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nevess · 7 months

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[ I crave a love that drowns oceans ] -K. Azizian

🌱… description: You and Anakin have had a rough time lately. The secret of being together has created some tension, but theres more to the burdens on Anakins heart. it appears to be that even the tiniest things can make you both want to explote at eachother, yet somehow it only happened until today.

🍵 … warnings: none? Just a bit of fighting with eachother, maybe intense feelings.

🧳 … character/s: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

☕️ … word count: around 1k ; | date: October 8th, 2023

🗞️ back to the main menu

a/n: more of this beautiful anakin x reader dinamic i have going on in my head. Disclaimer: i didn’t read it after finishing, so i apologize for any typos :p In other news, im looking for beta readerssss here's the post!

You and Anakin had been at it for what felt like an eternity, your voices rising in anger and frustration. The argument had strayed so far from its initial topic that it was almost comical, but neither of you found any humor in the situation. Your secret relationship as Jedi was a constant source of tension, and lately, it seemed like every conversation had the potential to turn into a battle.

Anakin paced back and forth across the small confines of your room, his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. "I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this," he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

You sat on the edge of your bed, your hands clenched into fists. "Because, Anakin," you retorted, your voice shaking with frustration, "I wish you would just talk to me.” You looked at him in disbelief, you were being tormented by an amount of uncomfortable emotions getting out of control. “It's like you're shutting me out."

He stopped pacing and turned to face you, his blue eyes ablaze with anger. "I'm not shutting you out," he said sharply. You were dismayed by the tone of his voice, yet you decided to just take a deep breath and let him talk. "I'm protecting us, protecting our secret."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood, your voice trembling. You were not going to allow him to make up excuses for the way he was acting towards you. "It doesn't feel like protection, It feels like you don't trust me" You confessed as the words blasted out of your mouth. Your heart ached, you were outraged. Anakin and you haven't been able to truly connect with each other in a long time since the war had a toll on the time you could spend in each other's company. And it seemed that frustrations were reaching you both, as any small inconvenience seemed to make you both want to explode, except that somehow you had never fought until today.

Anakin's expression softened for a moment, but then his defenses went up again. "It's not about trust," he argued. "It's about following the Jedi Code. We can't afford to let our emotions get in the way."

You took a step closer to him, your voice demonstrating your new demeanor, now calmed and passive. You knew that adding more fire to fire would only make it worse, someone had to be the adult in the situation. "Since when do you care about that, Anakin?” You make a quick silence as you look him in the eye. “We're not just Jedi. We're people too. We have feelings, and we can't keep pretending like they don't exist."

He looked torn, caught between his duty as a Jedi and his love for you. There was something else bothering him, he wasn't telling you the whole story. But letting him open up slowly would be the best course of action for now. "I know," he said quietly. "But we have to be careful. We can't let anyone find out about us." That wasn't it, he was still not telling you what was truly happening to him.

The frustration was not boiling inside you anymore, yet it decided to hide away. A small sigh left between your lips, loudly enough for him to hear. The tears you were holding back seemed to be gone, just like the anger you felt moments ago. "I understand you are worried about others finding out," You were careful with your words. Your tone was warm and sincere. "I just want you to be honest with me, to let me in."

Anakin's eyes softened, and he took a step towards you, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared, Y/N," he admitted, his walls finally starting to crack. Now this is what you should have been talking about from the start. You noticed he wasn't looking you in the eyes. "I'm scared of losing you."

Anakin was the living proof someone could live in constant internal dissonance. Right now, was one of those moments where he was chasing clarity but was left with a puzzle without all the pieces. That's where you come in. You help him find those pieces so he can put them together on his own.

You reached out and took his hand, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I'm scared too," you whispered, burying your face in his chest. "But we'll figure this out together. We can't keep fighting like this."

One of your hands slowly moved towards the back of his neck, caressing gently, as your eyes met his once again. “Look, I can't make promises I may not be able to keep.” You whispered while trying to find the words to comfort his worries. “But I can promise you I'll always be here for you, for as long as I can.” His arms were keeping you close to him, scared, almost desperate, as if once he lets you go you'll be gone forever.

The tension slowly melted away as you both clung to each other. You were now playing with his hair, trying to sooth him. Anakin's grip was firm, as if he could draw strength from your presence alone. Yet, you didn't need to use the force to feel the turmoil in him, his conflicted emotions like a storm raging beneath the surface. He didn't need to say it again; his fear of losing you was palpable. Instead, you felt his heart pounding against yours, his breath coming in uneven intervals.

His voice, when he spoke, was raw with emotion. "I just don't know how to navigate this, Y/N. It all seems so suffocating sometimes… I can't imagine a life without you in it." The blue eyed man was truly being tormented by something you don't yet understand. A fear that ran so deep… The only connection you could make with his past was the loss of his mother; a loss you knew scared his heart.

You moved one of your hands to his cheek, understanding the weight of his words. Anakin was a Jedi through and through —even when he was impulsive and impatient by nature—, bound by duty and honor, and yet he was also deeply in love with you. The conflict within him tore at his soul.

"I know, Anakin," you whispered softly, "We're treading a treacherous path, but we're in this together. We'll find a way to make it work." You hoped that your words represented what he needed to hear, you hoped they could give him the reassurance he needed.

The brunette nodded against your shoulder, his grip loosening just slightly. "I can't lose you, Y/N. I won't." The last two words that came out of his mouth worried you, very much. You were afraid of what he was able to do in order to prevent that from happening. You knew every inch of Anakin Skywalker, like the palm of your hand. Even so, you didn't know where to stand, something in you was screaming. This was the opening you needed to help him navigate through his feelings.

You smiled gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "And you won't. But you dont have to carry this burden alone. Come.”

As Anakin and you moved to the bed, you found yourselves in a simple yet inviting quarters within the Jedi Temple. The room was a reflection of your life as a Jedi, with a hint of individuality amidst the serene surroundings.

The walls were adorned with soft, muted colors, chosen to promote tranquility and mindfulness. A large window stretched across one side of the room, allowing the soft, golden light of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow over the space. The view outside offered a glimpse of the Temple gardens, a reminder of the beauty and serenity that existed within these hallowed walls.

The room was sparsely furnished, with just the essentials—a neatly made bed with simple linens, a small meditation cushion in one corner, and a low wooden table that served as a makeshift desk. A few personal items from missions adorned the tabletop, including small trinkets and mementos collected from different planets.

On a nearby shelf, there was a collection of well-worn books, each with a story and knowledge from the worlds you had explored during your Jedi missions. These volumes were a source of both solace and wisdom, their pages filled with experiences from other Jedi’s that had shaped your understanding of the galaxy.

Beside the books, a stack of notebooks lay neatly arranged. These journals held your thoughts, reflections, and observations about your life as a Jedi. They chronicled the struggles and triumphs, the doubts and resolutions, offering a glimpse into the inner world of a dedicated Jedi.

As you and Anakin settled onto the bed, the room seemed to envelop you both in a sense of calm and contemplation. It was a place where the burdens of being a Jedi could momentarily be set aside, a sanctuary where love could bloom amidst the memories of the past and the uncertainties of the future.

You proceed to cuddle in the middle of the bed. Anakin hugging your body, while you played with his hair. Your voice was a soothing melody that wrapped around Anakin's heart like a warm embrace. It carried a serenity that seemed to flow effortlessly, a tranquil river of understanding and empathy. Your words were spoken with a gentle cadence, each syllable carrying a weight of genuine affection and love.

As you uttered, "Let me help you carry this," your voice resonated with a sincerity that went beyond mere words. It held a profound tranquility, a calm assurance that you were there for him, ready to share the burden of his emotional turmoil. Your voice was a balm to his troubled soul, a reminder that in your presence, he could find solace and acceptance.

In that moment, your voice acted as a beacon of unwavering support, a testament to the depth of your feelings for Anakin. It was a voice that whispered promises of understanding and devotion, assuring him that together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead. He finally opened up.

© Nevess 2023. My original posts are not allowed to be edited, translated and/or re-uploaded on another account or platform without my permission, nevertheless, re-blogs are accepted and very appreciated.

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detailtilted · 4 months

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Index of Enhanced Edition Con Videos

I'll maintain this index in a pinned post for easy reference. Click the links to go to the YouTube videos, or click here for a more readable Google Docs table which includes these links plus a tab noting which events I skipped, temporarily or permanently, and why.

2007-11-11, Chicago - J2 Breakfast (00:23:42)

2007-11-11, Chicago - Jensen Solo (00:21:55)

2007-11-11, Chicago - Jared Solo (00:29:44)

2007-11-11, Chicago - J2 Main (00:38:24)

2008-07-27, San Diego Comic Con - SPN Panel (00:50:52)

2008-11-16, Chicago - J2 Breakfast (00:26:16)

2008-11-16, Chicago - Jared Solo (00:26:20)

2008-11-16, Chicago - J2 Panel (00:35:04)

The last panel from CHICON 2008, Jensen's solo panel, is up next.

Thank you to everyone who has shown an interest in these videos. The reblogs and likes all made me very happy, and I especially appreciated the kind comments some of you left in your reblog text and tags. I'm unsure of the proper Tumblr way to respond directly to that in a way that won't annoy people, but I've definitely noticed and appreciated it!

An explanation of this project and my tentative plans for it are listed below the break. A lot of it will be familiar if you've read my earlier posts, but it's more detailed -- and excessively long! There's also some info on how you can help, especially if you have any old videos or audio files that you'd be willing to contribute.

Why Do You Call These "Enhanced Editions"?

The videos I'm using are not my own, but I've spent many hours adding enhancements to them. Credit and links to the original videos are in the video descriptions. These are the typical enhancements you'll see:

I'm upscaling the videos as best I can. It isn't remotely perfect, but it's a little more watchable than the originals. I'm not experienced with this and the videos I'm working with are very low quality by today's standards. They were also recorded under difficult circumstances. Video taking wasn't permitted at most of the earlier cons, so the people who took them did so at the risk of getting kicked out. They couldn't exactly come waltzing in with a tripod, so the videos are shaky, they don't always have a clear view of the stage, and sometimes they cut off at unfortunate moments. They can be frustrating to watch, but we owe these people a debt of gratitude for capturing this footage because otherwise it would have been lost altogether.

The original videos are usually in multiple parts, but I'm editing them together into a single video as cohesively as possible. I may use videos from multiple sources to provide the most complete video possible, and I'll select the ones with the highest video quality available. Sometimes there just aren't a lot out there, though.

I'm adding extra content to help clarify references people make during the panels. The videos I've worked with so far don't take up the full width of a modern video frame, so I've taken advantage of that extra space to display the extra content to the side where it's less obtrusive. There are explanations for obscure references that are way funnier when you understand what they mean, plus episode references to help jog the memory for those of us who haven't rewatched the show a million times. In rare cases where I think it will enhance understanding, I'll insert brief episode clips that highlight what they're talking about.

I'm putting a LOT of time into adding good, color-coded English subtitles that can be turned on and off with YouTube's CC button. These videos can be frustrating to understand because the audience often drowns them out and Jared and Jensen tend to talk at the same time when they're together. I can't always figure everything out, but it's far better than the crazy, auto-generated nonsense that many videos have. The color-coding helps with telling who's saying what: red for Jared, blue for Jensen, green for the general audience, yellow for the current fan at the microphone, and white for other people such as staff.

If there's missing footage that I can't find anywhere, then if I can find a source that seems to have reliable details about what was discussed, I'll add still images with a brief summary and a link to my source in the video description.

What Conventions Do You Plan to Enhance?

I don't want to make grand promises that I'll enhance videos for every old convention, although I definitely love the idea of doing so. How far I go with this will depend on how much sustained interest there is from other people and how much spare time I have myself. My output speed will probably be erratic depending on what's going on in my life at the time.

My general plan was to start with the oldest conventions and work my way forward. For now, I only plan to enhance the panels with Jared and/or Jensen since they're my main interest. I may temporarily skip over conventions that they didn't both attend, but with the intent to go back and fill those in later.

One big constraint will be whether I can find enough videos to work with for a convention, and just how bad the quality is. I've found that some videos are too poor of a quality to upscale, at least with my limited skill. Since these videos are painful to watch in their raw form, I suspect people will be less interested in watching "enhanced" videos that don't include at least some noticeable improvement in visual quality, but please do let me know if I'm wrong. For that reason, I'll probably skip past cons if I can't upscale the videos, at least for now.

As I work through the old conventions, I'll make a good attempt to upscale the available videos. If I don't have much success, then I'll skip over that convention with the hope that someday either the technology or my skills will improve, or maybe a more skilled fan will be able to accomplish more with it. If I make it through all the low-hanging fruit, I might come back to those problematic conventions and just create a cohesive edit with special content and subtitles even if I can't substantially improve the video quality.

These are just my general thoughts right now but the project is young, so my strategy may change.

Can I Help?

If you have any old convention videos or audio files that you're willing to contribute, please message me! For now, let's limit it to content from 2010 or older. Maybe I can use them, maybe I can't, but the more I have to work with, the better chance I have of creating something more complete. If I do use your material, I'll credit you in whatever manner you prefer.

Even if your videos are on YouTube, I've found that the original files may upscale much better than videos pulled off YouTube. I think the videos were degraded when they were uploaded to YouTube, at least back then. If you send me videos that I'm able to upscale, I'll happily send the upscaled versions back to you for your collection regardless of whether or not I use them. (If you have any videos you don't want me to use for this project, let me know and I'll respect your wishes.)

Even if your video looks terrible, you might just have a missing piece of footage that I couldn't find anywhere else, or your video might upscale more easily than another. If nothing else, I might be able to hear something in the audio that will help me fill in a subtitle I couldn't figure out.

Likewise, audio files can be helpful even without video. If nothing else, they may help me fill in some subtitles. If the audio file is consistently easier to understand than the audio on the videos I'm using, I can also substitute the audio from your file in place of the video's audio. If you have audio of sections of the panels for which no known videos exist, that could also help me fill in those gaps.

If you're watching my enhanced videos with the subtitles turned on, please do let me know if you catch any errors or if you can clearly understand something I marked as [inaudible]. I can't change the videos themselves on YouTube, not without breaking the links and causing confusion, but it's pretty easy to update the subtitles because they're a separate file. It's important to me to try not to put words in their mouths that they might not have said, so I'm trying not to guess based on context. However, there were times when I felt like I should have been able to understand what they said but I just couldn't manage it, and I'm sure someone with different ears may be able to figure out some of the parts I couldn't.

#enhanced edition con video #j2 #jared padalecki #jensen ackles #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural #index

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hbxplain · 1 year

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✌️Masterpost✌️

add yourself to my taglist here, or dm me to be removed 😁

📝 Prompt Fills (#prompt fills)

The Right Time

1,181 words - Fantasy/Romance

Content Warnings: Drowning

“We can’t die like this. We can’t! We have so much to- and my ma- and your cats, god, they won’t understand why you’re not there-”

“And I’ll never get to kiss you.”

“And you’ll never get to- wait, what?!”

If I Cannot Bend Heaven, Then I Will Raise Hell

173 words - Fantasy

An angel defects.

Viva La Magic's Tavern

2,352 words - Low Fantasy

Content Warnings: ableism

A disabled human named Magic runs a restaurant for magical creatures. One day, a strong wizard challenges that.

☼☼☼-

😈 Seven Lovely Sins (#sls)

WIP Intro: Comic Sans Powerpoint

70k+ words so far, unfinished! - Drama/Fantasy/Romance

Seven demons, each a representative of a different deadly sin, are sent down to Urth to Tempt a human into forfeiting their soul. Along the way, however, some of these demons find themselves feeling a little too strongly about their assigned mortals to let go of them that easily--love, hate, and trust draw the demons' attention. Maybe these assignments will take a little longer than expected…

Seven Lovely Sins is an anthology (sort of) of 7 short stories wherein a demon is tasked with Tempting a mortal, but slowly builds a relationship of some sort with them instead. Each demon and mortal pair is made up of characters from my various TTRPGs, but knowledge of those isn't needed to understand the story!

Full Chapters/Scenes

Part 1: Pride

1.0 - 1k words - Tu, Miss Lane, Demons

The first demon meeting, where Miss Lane gives Tu her mission: to Tempt a mortal named Tigh into engaging in the deadly sin of Pride.

1.1 - 3k words - Tu, Tigh, Sienne, Aeryn

Tu meets Tigh (and his obnoxious coworker, Sienne) and follows them to a coffee shop called CC Brews, where she meets Aeryn. Also, she has a tiny crush.

1.2 - 3.5k words - Tu, Tigh, Miss Lane briefly

Tu asks Tigh on a date in an attempt to feed his ego. It goes maybe a little too well.

Tag Games

Heads Up 7 Up

Part 3: Greed / Vatana, Vatesh

Find the Words

Part 3: Greed / Vatana, Tigh, Vice, Tu; and Part 1: Pride / Tu

Incorrect Quotes

Heads Up 7 Up

Part 4: Lust / Taylor, Izzy, Miss Lane

Find the Word

Part 1: Pride / Tu, Tigh

☼☼☼-

😇 False Pretenses (#fp)

50k words, unfinished - Romance/Low Fantasy

In short: polyamorous fake dating soulmate AU about a human, an angel, and a demon. Description below:

Levi is a human. Ey expected the two people who answered eir craigslist ad for fake dates to also be human… but instead ey got Valor, an angel, and Triz, a demon. Now Levi has to cover up Triz’s demonic nature to pretend to be soulmates with Valor in front of god, only to turn right around and cover up Valor’s angelic nature to be lovey-dovey in front of the devil, too. And then it’s time for the worst judge of all… Levi’s own, human, parents. The whole thing sounds like more trouble than it’s worth, but under threat of eir parents ruining eir life when ey eventually bring home actual girlfriends, ey’re willing to pretend… until ey realize ey’re unfortunately falling for the angel and demon by eir side.

Snippets

Lying Excerpt

Fake Soulmate Prep

Levi, Val, and Triz get to know each other in the angels' domain, preparing to fake a soulmate bond.

Tag Games

Find the Word

☼☼☼-

✍🏼 Miscellaneous Works

Villainous Thing (#villainous thing)

50k words - High Fantasy/Romance

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Guardian Angel, Villain AU

Content Warnings: Drowning, Death Mention, Brief Torture Scene

Ileao, a guardian angel, receives an unusual assignment: watch over and report on a mortal villain named Alexander. As that mortal villain slowly but surely drags em into his life of crime, ey start to think he may not be as ‘evil’ as eir angelic superiors made him out to be, and that eir angelic ‘morals’ might not be so moral after all.

#masterpost #mine #prompt fills #sls #haven speaks #villainous thing #fp #masterlist #writeblr #writers of tumblr

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aladdin · 2 years

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MOMA, MO' PROBLEMS: ROY LICHTENSTEIN, AND THE ERASURE OF THE ARTIST FROM COMIC BOOK ART

Yesterday, on a large social media platform, I saw that Bill Sienkiewicz had shared a post by Neil Gaiman criticizing the Museum of Modern Art for their online description of the iconic 1963 pop-art painting "Drowning Girl," by Roy Lichtenstein.

Neil had this to say:

I'm hugely disappointed in The Museum of Modern Art. Their online description of Roy Lichtenstein's Drowning Girl doesn't actually credit Tony Abruzzo, the artist who drew the picture Lichtenstein traced for his art, only crediting the comic it was from -- and, even then, getting the comic's title wrong, as if they couldn't really be bothered.

Bill added to Neil's critique:

I stand firmly with Neil Gaiman on this.

Museums need to better inform themselves - and the public - as to the important artistic contributions of Comic strip and Comic book creators. These talents shouldn't be merely trivia answers or footnotes related to other artists' often ham-fisted appropriations.

In the comics industry, the "Lichtenstein debate" has been a pretty one-sided conversation for some time now; I first saw Lichtenstein's work in a Smithsonian gallery more than a decade ago, where I was first introduced to the controversy.

Lichenstein appropriated comic book art by cropping panels, altering them slightly, and painting blown-up versions that incorporated the texture of the mechanical dot-matrix printing process - the appropriation is a feature of the artwork itself, not hidden from the audience, but imposed upon them.

So is that... Art?

Well, sure. Of course it is.

Re-contextualizing images changes their meaning, and evokes new perspectives and themes. Appropriation is a crucial element of post-modernism, which is not only an authentic means of expression, it's also a popular vogue in mainstream culture - like sampling one song to make another, for example.

There is a bleak contrast, however, between the etiquette of appropriating music, and the etiquette of appropriating comic book art. You cannot sample a song without paying a fee, which likely includes royalties, and the original artist must be credited on the track.

That kind of etiquette was not yet established when Lichtenstein was painting in the 1960's, and, in his defense, he was very much part of a contemporary avant-guard movement. Andy Warhol famously appropriated soup in cans the year before, in 1962. It took two artists, Stanley Miller and Alton Kelly, to appropriate an Edmund Sullivan illustration for the Grateful Dead in 1966.

Lichtenstein turned his own gaze upon the comic book page, and I think that's totally valid. That being said, should the man have credited the artists from whom he appropriated the work?

Ethically: yes, absolutely, he should have credited everyone.

Thematically: no, not really, crediting the artists actually kind of hurts the work, as I understand it.

Lichtenstein's pop art suggests a sense of alienation and detachment from the artifice of modern commercialism and consumerism. Although I reject his thesis, as I understand it, Lichtenstein expects his audience to see comic books as a vapid offering of consumer culture. The cartoon melodrama and violence, upon which he chooses to focus, has been homogenized, processed, and industrialized... not at all unlike soup in a can.

To credit the comic book artists would result in a humanization of the artwork itself, and suggest a solidarity between Lichtenstein and the subjects of his hostile gaze. Not to mention, in some of the issues that Lichtenstein "deconstructed," like "All-American Men of War #89," DC Comics wasn't providing any creator credits in the first place.

So, in the world of infinite nuance, I don't begrudge Lichtenstein, the artist, for his creations, or re-creations, or however we might classify the paintings. His work, as he designed it, resonated with the intended audience, and vaulted the artist into an iconic status in the world of Fine Art... and that's where my own sense of indignation is ignited.

I said Lichtenstein's Pop Art was valid, but it's not good. He's a hack of a pony with one shitty trick.

As the context of an image changes from newsprint to canvas, so too does it change when the piece goes from an idea in a studio to a commercialized object in a gallery. The art does not exist in a vacuum. It's a reflection of our cultural values, which change overtime.

Comics, for example, are no longer considered disposable trash. They are collectors items, and cultural touchstones. They are woven into the tapestry of American art and literature.

Every institution that displays or critiques Lichtenstein's appropriative artwork, in the year 2021, should include the credits that Lichtenstein eschewed. It should be standard form for all appropriative art. When we quote an author, we credit the source; when we "quote" an artist, the same consideration is due.

Here's what that looks like in action: "Drowning Girl," Roy Lichtenstein (after Tony Abruzzo), 1963. Oil and Synthetic Polymer paint on Canvas.

It's that easy.

And yet - when a Lichtenstein painting, Masterpiece, sold for 165 million dollars in 2018, none of the journalists that covered the story bothered to credit the art on which Masterpiece was based. You won't find the credits in the painting's wikipedia entry, and googling variations on "Lichtenstein Masterpiece original source" doesn't yield any helpful results in the top hits. As of the writing of this essay, I still don't know who drew the panel from which Masterpiece was derived.

The painting sold for165 million dollars. Adjusting for inflation, that's would be 182 million dollars today, and that's terrible.

Through this lens, Lichtenstein's artwork becomes even more crass, mutated into a bloated parody of itself, a wretched monument to capitalist excess. Why is this artist, unabashed in his plagiarism, still commanding so much respect among the moneyed elite?

Returning to the social media post that kicked off this essay, I think it's worth pointing out, for the sake of devil's advocacy, that Bill Sienkiewicz and Neil Gaiman have profited immensely from their work in comic books; they are titans of the industry, and can frequently be found hobnobbing with celebrities at red carpet events, enjoying the luxuries of mainstream recognition.

At a glance, they are unsympathetic characters in the grand scheme of capitalism and exploitation of labor. Their money is in the bag, so to speak. Is this conversation, then, really about anything other than academic nuance in the discourse of fine art?

When these men criticize MOMA over the erasure of the comic book artist from comic book art, there is an obvious conflict of interest. Of course the comic book guys think that comic books are really important, but does MOMA really have any responsibility to humor these old men yelling at clouds?

Well, if I haven't convinced you yet, let's talk more about the exploitation of labor in the comic book industry.

The comic books that Lichtenstein mined for content were all produced under Work-for-Hire contracts, which nullify the creator's rights.

Marvel and DC claimed all of the copyrights and profits; to their creative teams, they offered one-time page-rates, not salaries, with no retirement plans, and no royalties. A common fate of the comic book creator was to languish in poverty and obscurity after their career came to a close. Yes, Sienkiewicz and Gaiman might have done very well, but they are among the few.

While creator compensation has improved in some areas, Work-for-Hire contracts are still standard at many publishing houses, including Marvel and DC.

In response to these poor labor conditions, in 2000, the Heroes Initiative was founded as an aid organization, by comic book creators for other comic book creators. Their goal is to provide a safety net for basic costs of life such as helping cover medical costs, utilities, and groceries.

One of their beneficiaries was Silver Age illustrator Russ Heath, the original artist behind some of Lichtenstein's war-themed appropriations. In a one-page comic from 2012, Heath humbly captures the indignation of living in poverty under the shadow of Lichtenstein's success.

Heath passed away in 2018, which was the same year that Masterpiece sold for 165 million dollars.

Ironically, despite how distasteful the Pop Art career of Roy Lichtenstein seems in retrospect, the erasure of comic book artists from comic book art has never been more culturally relevant.

The appropriation of comic books is now a multi-gazillion dollar industry; Hollywood carved up the Marvel and DC universes between Disney, Warner Brothers, Fox, and Sony, and for the last twenty years, they've been producing generic, repetitive Superhero films that frequently do not credit the original artists and writers whose stories and characters are being adapted.

A very contemporary example is the marketing campaign for the new Hawkeye TV show on Disney Plus; the poster designs are based on David Aja's iconic artwork from the Hawkeye comic book. It's instantly recognizable if you've seen his work, and yet, Aja was not credited, not consulted, and not compensated.

While Marvel legally "owns" the intellectual property they are appropriating, it is appropriation nonetheless. If a musician for Atlantic records samples another song owned by Atlantic records - they're still going to credit the song being sampled (in the liner notes, at the very least).

Lichtenstein mined the cultural expectations of his time, when comics were considered disposable, lowbrow, and vapid. He was wrong then, and he's wrong now. It took decades to chip away at this perspective, with creators like Will Eisner, Art Spiegelman, and Alan Moore, bringing widespread critical acclaim to the medium; their work opened the doors for more experimental approaches in mainstream comics, which can be found in the work in some of my favorites, like our old pals Bill Sienkiewicz and Neil Gaiman.

Comic books have demonstrated their own integrity, over and over again, and yet the medium remains forever at odds with a consumerist culture that resists the message.

It seems to me that some of these producers in Hollywood still hold similar views as Lichtenstein, when it comes to comics; while the comic book can be mined for its intellectual property, in order to turn a profit, the intellects behind that property are not worthy of consideration. They are treated as cogs in a machine that produces content.

And while the art of the comic book has taken tremendous strides to evolve and advance over the last century, I am not the first to point out that the Hollywood Superhero films they've inspired tend to capitalize on predictable themes and formulaic plots; from one movie to the next, they can feel homogenous, processed, and industrialized... not at all unlike a can of soup.

The legacy of Lichtenstein remains a stain not just on the careers of the artists from whom he plagiarized, but in the latent ideology espoused by his actual body of work; an ideology that is celebrated and maintained by the capitalists who see no value in comic book art except for the dollars they can extract. From MOMA to the MCU, the erasure of the comic book artist, from the comic book art, persists.

#moma #roy lichtenstein #pop art #comics #MCU #Bill Sienkiewicz #neil gaiman #heath russ #breadtube #marvel comcs #DC comics

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falcqns · 3 years

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Hey, hey it's me ❤ I'm in the mood for some angst, hmmm, the girl is having a huge crush on Henry since they met and they are friends for years but on her thirtieth birthday he made a huge party and when she wanted to confess her feelings for him she found him with her best friend in her bed. Thanks in advance ❤

Amnesia

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: way too descriptive explanation of eating a piece of schnitzel off a fork (i got carried away), bratty!henry, slightly toxic!henry, violence towards women (slight), swearing, angst, alcohol consumption.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I wasn’t sure if you wanted a happy ending or a sad ending, so I wrote both! Hope you enjoy ❤️ I also listened to Amnesia by 5 Seconds of Summer while writing this, so it may be slightly based on that song haha.

You had met Henry at Comic Con in 2013, when you had gone to see his panel for Man of Steel, and got the opportunity to ask him a question. Your question intrigued him, and shortly after the panel, you were approached by Henry himself, who was also going to the Game of Thrones panel. He remembered you from his panel, and the two of you sat together. You spent the rest of the day together, and you ended up joining him and the cast of Man of Steel for drinks that night.

After Comic Con, you two stayed in touch through Instagram, and eventually you gave him your number. A few months later, your job relocated you to London, and he offered for you to stay with him, to which you accepted. You two were great roommates, and even better friends. But, this didn’t stop your feelings from blossoming.

Everything about him was attractive to you. From the way he always had a slight scowl on his face in the morning, giving you and Kal only grunts as responses until he had a cup of coffee, to the way he would get sucked into his video games and not realize over half the day passed by without him. You loved the way you could make him snort if he laughed hard enough, and that his sides were ridiculously ticklish. You adored how much he loved to cook, often calling you into the kitchen to taste his new recipe of the week. But, your favourite thing about him was how he treated you.

Even though you were not an actress, he never treated you as anything but an equal. He was always so interested in your work, and would always be the first person to congratulate you when you reached a goal you had been striving for. He was the one who brought you soup in bed and took care of you when you were sick without a second thought, and held you whenever you needed a good cry. Your friends often referred to him as your husband because of how much he cared and looked out for you. You never put much thought to it however, until your mom asked you if you two were dating when he joined you at a family gathering.

He had stood up to go and get himself a beer, and brought you back your favourite drink and some of your favourite foods on a plate without you even asking. He then sat next to you, and engaged in a conversation about NASCAR with your dad, uncles, and grandfather.

Your mom leaned over ad whispered in your ear, “Are you two together?”

You gave her an alarmed look, and shook your head vigorously. “No, mom, we’re not. Why?”

Your mom’s eyes drifted over to Henry. “You two sure seem like you are. Might want to talk to him about it, because the way you look at him as if he hung the stars and the moon specifically for you suggest different.”

You had shaken it off, and thought nothing of it until you were back at home the next night, and really thought about what your mom said. Did he like you, or were you just reading into things too much? You shook it out of your head, and rolled over to fall asleep.

But, when he called you into the kitchen to ask you to taste his attempt at making schnitzel for the first time, you thought about it again. You watched as he offered you a piece of the cooked meat on a fork, and you opened your mouth to accept it. You noticed how his eyes were glued to your lips as they wrapped around the fork, and how he slightly bit his lip as you pulled the meat off the utensil to chew it. You instantly smiled at the taste of the food, and Henry let out a breath both he and you didn’t know he was holding.

You told him it was delicious, and you watched how is eyes lit up in joy. He did a little happy dance, and instantly blushed when you giggled your way out of the kitchen.

The next time you thought about it was when you two were sitting on the couch, watching The Sound of Music, and you drifted off just as the Von Trapps were performing at the festival and escaping. Your head had called onto his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around you like he always did. But then he did something unexpected. You woke with a start when he lifted you up, shifted his body so it was lying down on the couch, and laid you back down right onto his chest, you head coming to rest under his chin. “Thought this might be more comfy,” he had said, and you smiled and thanked him, before your eyes refocused on the movie, no longer tired.

You noticed all of these things, but you failed to notice how much of an interest your best friend had taken in him. He was never interested, he only had eyes for you, but he did notice.

He noticed how when he wasn’t in the room, and you were on call with her, she would laugh normally, but when he entered the room, she would laugh differently, as if trying to entice him with small, annoying and EXTREMELY squeaky giggles that made him want to claw at his ears. He had never taken a second look at her. He was head over heels in love with you, why would he look at your best friend when he could stare at the goddess of beauty that was you? He’d never thought he’d have a chance with you, so he settled to love you from afar until you found your person, at which time he would resolve to look for his. It wasn’t the healthiest mindset, but it worked for him.

When your 30th birthday had rolled around, Henry decided to be the loyal best friend and roommate he was, and throw you a birthday party. He and Kal decorated the house (more like Henry decorated the house and re hung the decorations that Kal pulled down while “helping”), bought a bunch of booze, and food, and invited all your friends (and your’s and his mutual friends), and your family, along with his (minus the children. Children and drunk parents usually dont mix well.).

He noticed throughout the night that you had become slightly more distant from him. Usually at parties, you would be glued to him like the sea urchin you had gotten stuck in your foot at age 10, but you gradually stopped seeking him out. Then, his eyes landed on you, talking to another guy.

A cold, sick feeling chill ran through his bones, and he instantly recognized it as jealousy. his first thought was how dare you speak to another man? But, then he remembered, that you and him were not together, and the guy had every right to talk to you. So, he headed over to the kitchen island which was serving as the bar, and decided to drown his jealousy in alcohol. His body would pay for that in the morning, but at that exact moment he couldn’t care less.

When you had stepped outside with aforementioned guy, he picked up the vodka and chugged as much of it as he could, desperate to get wasted. After a few more drinks, he felt sufficiently drunk. Then, your best friend sauntered up to him, and Henry was surprised to find that he could tolerate her for more than 30 seconds. The two of them struck up a conversation, and what surprised Henry even more was he didn’t push her away when she touched him, kissed him, or even invited him upstairs to “fool around.” Maybe alcohol wasn’t so bad after all.

You however, were having a great time. You and your friend Cody had stepped outside to continue your conversation, as Cody was pretty quiet, and the party was rather loud. You two had just stepped into the kitchen when you looked around for Henry to introduce him to Cody, who was a huge fan of his. You didn’t see him, but when you brought it up to Cody he just said, “Oh, I lose my boyfriend at parties all the time. He’ll be here somewhere.”

You two ventured around the house, but didn’t find a sign of Henry. So when you asked your mom where he went, you were shocked when she told you that him and your best friend had gone upstairs. You immediately raced upstairs thinking that you were going to break up a fight. He had never liked her, and often had to leave the room when you were FaceTiming with her, because she just “annoyed him to the point of wanting to pull an August Walker” he said. You’d always ignored it, because your boyfriends had never gotten along with her, and you just always assumed it was because she was protective over you.

But, when you walked upstairs and found his bedroom and bathroom, the spare bedroom and bathroom, and your office empty, you opened the door to your bedroom, and your heart instantly broke into a million pieces. He was butt ass naked on your bed, balls deep in your best friend, who was also completely naked.

You gasped, and Henry immediately stopped his movements and his eyes snapped to you. The widened, and he immediately sobered up before swearing. “Shit, Y/N.” He said, before pulling out of your best friend, and covering himself. He watched in horror as your eyes welled up with tears and you ran across the hall to his bedroom to lock yourself in. It was only in that moment that he realized he was in your room, not his. He immediately redressed, and ran across the hall to his room, and began banging on the door.

Your best friend scoffed at your reaction, redressed as well, and then joined Henry across the hall. “She’s just being dramatic.”

Henry looked at her confused. “Dramatic? She just caught us, her two best friends, fucking in her bed. She has every reason to be upset. She is not being dramatic.” Your best friend rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms. “Then can you get her whiny ass out of there so we can finish what we started?”

Henry turned around quicker than Pietro trying to save Clint. “No. What happened shouldn’t have happened.”

She rolled her eyes and stomped her foot like a child. “So you used me?” Henry scoffed.

“I’d say you used me.”

“How?”

He stared at her in amazement at her sheer stupidity.

“You CLEARLY used the fact that I was heartbroken and drunk. You’re always seeking me out when I’m around, and you change from this person who seems barely tolerable to a complete and utter insufferable bitch.” He didn’t allow her to speak, instead pounded on the door.

“Y/N! Let me explain!” He begged, and tried to ignore the way he could practically hear your best friend roll her eyes beside him.

“No! There’s nothing for you to explain. You made your feelings perfectly clear. I’m just sorry that I wasted 7 years being friends and being in love with you just for you to fall for my ex best friend.” You heard both Henry and your ex best friend exclaim, but you didn’t listen to a word they said, instead grabbing Henry’s AirPods, shoving them in your ear, and turning your music on full blast before laying in Henry’s bed.

Outside the door, Henry and your ex best friend were in a straight up crazy bitch fight.

“SHE’S BEEN MY FRIEND FOR LONGER!” She screamed.

Henry got right in her face, and screamed right back at her. “I’VE CARED FOR HER AND LOVED HER FOR LONGER THAN YOU HAVE! YOU USED AN AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL, LOVING, CARING, WONDERFUL WOMAN TO GET TO ME! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“SHE WOULD HAVE NEVER WENT AFTER YOU, OR EVEN ADMITTED HER FEELINGS! SHE’S PLAYING WITH YOUR FUCKING MIND! I SAW A FUCKING OPPORTUNITY TO GET LAID BY HENRY MOTHERFUCKING CAVILL AND I FUCKING TOOK IT! SUE ME!”

Henry grabbed her arm, and shoved her towards the stairs. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT CONTACTING HER AGAIN, BECAUSE SO HELP ME GOD YOU EVEN TALK TO HER, I WILL RUIN YOUR FUCKING LIFE! I’VE DONE IT BEFORE, I CAN DO IT AGAIN!”

She ripped her arm out of Henry’s grasp and slapped him across the face before storming down the stairs and out of the house. When he watched as no one even gave her a second look as she passed, he knew that everyone hated her just as much as he did.

He tried pounding on the door again, but you didn’t answer, so he resolved to just rejoin the party. It was painfully obvious that you needed some alone time, and he was more than willing to give it to you at the moment, he needed to cool down as well.

(happy ending starts here. If you want a SAD ending, click HERE.)

The party cleared out less than an hour later, and Henry took it upon himself to clean up. The mess wasn’t too bad, but the living room could do with a sweep and the garbage needed to be taken out. He had a feeling he’d be out the majority of the next day, and he didn’t want you doing anything. He planned on spending the rest of the day making it up to you once he woke up.

He finished cleaning, and set the garbage next to the front door. He might be a 6’1 burly ass man, but he wasn’t crazy enough to go out after dark, who knows what’s lurking in the shadows out there.

He searched around the house for Kal, and became slightly panicked when he couldn’t find him, but then remembered he had put him in his bedroom before the party started, because he gets too excited around big groups of people, and Henry didn’t need stains from spilt alcohol all over the house.

He grabbed the set of keys that he had for the doors in the house that locked. Your room, his room, the basement, and your office all locked, so he had made sure to keep them on the same key ring. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door once more, but as he suspected, you didn’t answer. He unlocked the door, and was immediately jumped by Kal. He gave Kal some pets, and let him run down the stairs and out the doggy door in the kitchen to go pee. Henry walked in the room, and his heart clenched in his chest at what he saw.

You were curled up in a ball on his bed, with his AirPods in your ears blasting music. Your eyes were puffier than hell, with tears stains all over your cheeks. Originally, he was going to move you to your bed, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleeping there until you burned the sheets and got new ones, so he pulled the comforter over you. He pulled his AirPods out of your ears and put them back in the charging case. He took your phone and plugged it in, before turning on his TV and putting on Family Guy for background noise while you slept. Kal came bounding up the stairs seconds later, and growled when he saw Henry standing close to you.

“Oh, you’re taking her side now?” Henry asked the pup. Kal barked softly in agreement before glaring at his dad until he moved away from you, and then hopped up on the bed gently.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you. I was an asshole, wasn’t I?” He said, glancing down at you once more. Kal laid his head on your hip, and growled at Henry again.

Henry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah I know. Your dad’s an idiot. I’m going. Protect her, ‘kay?” He said as he walked out of the room, and Kal huffed while snuggling closer to you and closing his eyes.

Henry closed the door, and felt his exhaustion and extreme drunkenness hit him. He looked at the stairs to his right, and decided against trying to walk down them. He then walked right into your open bedroom, and looked around. He had never really gotten a good look at your bedroom before, but he absolutely adored the way it was decorated.

You had done everything in your power to make it look comfy. You had faerie lights all over, as well as LED’s on the ceiling trim. You had a small sofa with various throw pillows and multiple comfortable blankets on it. You had a huge fluffy rug on the floor, and your bed had a insanely comfortable comforter, and a good 7 or 8 pillows on it, mostly throw pillows.

Henry pulled the throw pillows off the bed, and tossed them onto the couch, before climbing in. He was instantly overwhelmed by your scent. It was in your pillows, your comforter, even your stuffed elephant named Bubbles that you slept with every night. He hopped out of your bed once more, and brought Bubbles over to you, placing her under your arm and against your face. He went back to your room, and climbed in your bed, and fell asleep wishing you were in his arms.

The next morning, Henry’s body jerked awake at 5 am, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. He limbed out of your bed, before remaking it, and walking over to check on you. Kal jumped off the bed at the sight of Henry, and allowed him to come closer. He stopped at Henry’s feet and pressed himself against his legs, which signified he wanted some love.

Henry squatted own, and gave his fluffy boy some pets, and hugged him back when kal crawled in between his legs and rested his head on his shoulder. Henry chuckled.

“It’s gonna be fine buddy. Daddy’s gonna make it up to her, and maybe she’ll even agree to being your Mommy.” He said, and Kal licked his face before walking out of the room. Henry walked over, and climbed in beside you. He pulled you, into his arms, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You stirred, and tried to pull away from him when your eyes focused on his face, but he was too strong.

“I am so fucking sorry.” He whispered, and you said nothing as you buried your face in his neck, tears coming to your eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just, I was drunk, and in love with you, but I thought I couldn’t have you. I saw you with that other guy, and I just got so jealous. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I didn’t stop her. But, I should have.” He whispered, tears present in his voice as well. “Actually,” He said, pulling you closer and running a hand through your hair when he felt tears land on his neck. “I should have told you how I felt years ago. I should have told you how much I was drawn to you, and how much of my mind you occupy when I asked you to move in. I should have been honest the whole time, and I wasn’t. I am so fucking sorry, and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you just give me a chance to show you how much I love you. Please,” He begged, and you slowly nodded.

Henry’s heart exploded into fireworks. He pulled you close against his chest, and ran his hand up and down your back. Henry continued to talk to you, but you drowned it out as you were lulled to sleep by his scent, voice, warmth, and love.

You didn’t forgive him yet, and he didn’t expect you to. But, he loved you, you loved him, and most importantly he was sorry, and you’d knew he’d spend the rest of his life proving that to you.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill angst #Henry Cavill imagine #angst #fluff

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elephart-hi · 3 years

Text

The Mortal Maiden: Witch!Jude

Chapter 2: A Secret Sealed with a Kiss

set during The Cruel Prince.

(another sneek peek at my wip for this fic)

summary: Oh, he was making a show of himself for her she realized noting the way the light caught on the definition of his stomach. He wanted her to look at him. His lidded eyes seemed to say ‘aren’t I lovely’ and damn it if he wasn’t.

Rating: Mature but not explicitly till later chapters!

AN: I contemplated having this chapter be Cardan reading harry potter and Jude just spoiling the whole series and telling him everyone who dies just to spite him.... sighhhhh i had to make the hard decision and actually write the plot

also no beta for this chapter tee hee

Ao3 Chapter 1 you are at chapter 2 chapter 3

Cardan blinked at the vision before him. Once, twice. Then glanced at the goblet in his hand with a perplexed look on his face. He wasn't sure if he had accidentally poured himself the bottle he had mixed with his hallucinogenic powders. There was no way Jude Duerte would be standing in his room mid-day. She would be asleep in her chambers at the general’s stronghold.

He looked back at the vision in front of him and rubbed his eyes. Then he heard a scoff and saw her sneer at him with fathomless hate burning in her amber eyes. Now that seemed very real. He glanced at her hands and saw that the ring finger of her left hand was missing a digit. He started.

“You’re being rude.”

Cardan wiped his head in the direction of the door as he heard Darnal, the knocker laugh at her from the other side. Her nose crinkled and her brows pinched at the sound. She was cute when she was angry. And she was also definitely in his bedroom. Cardan tried to not let his mind wander to the many inappropriate fantasies he has had of this very scene but he was on his fourth bottle of wine and he was having a hard time reeling it in. He looked her up and down slowly, hoping it would make her mad enough to distract her while he grabbed his damned tail. He needed to get it under control before it made a fool of him.

“Aren’t you going to say something”

“I supposed I should, shouldn’t I?” he didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what she was doing here. He felt a smirk tug at his lips as his nerves continued to spiral out of control. His hand reached behind his back and grappled for his tail “Why are you in my room?”

“Why does your door know my name?” she gritted back, her lips curled into a snarl. She was clearly very annoyed, for what reason Cardan didn’t know. She was the one in his room after all… in the middle of the day no less. Shouldn’t he be the annoyed one? There she was barging in on him when he could have been sleeping for all she knew.

“Care for a glass of wine Jude?” he asked ignoring her question. He stood from his bed and poured more into his goblet; his tail secured within his pants. He had a feeling that he didn’t want to be sober for this conversation, although he had already become a distant stranger to sobriety since classes let out hours before, “You seem wound up, perhaps a drink will help you pull the stick out of your ass. Or, if this isn’t a friendly visit, I could call the guards for you. Though I’m afraid you will find them far less hospitable.”

He has a glass filled for her by the time he finishes talking. She looks more pissed than before, her amber eyes seemed to crackle like embers. She doesn't move to grab the glass from him so he tries a different approach.

“You’re the one who came to my room, Jude, claiming you didn’t want to interrupt me and that you could come back another time. Well let me assure you, you haven’t interrupted anything important, the book will still be there tomorrow to intrigue me, but you are only here right this moment. And I wouldn't want to inconvenience you with having to sneak back in again. So… what can I do for you?”

They seem to be having a staring contest because Jude’s gaze continues to bore into his own. She grinds her teeth refusing to reply, neither one of them willing to break first. She was impossibly cute with her face scrunched up in anger like that. His arm begins to tire from holding a glass out to her for so long. He heaves a sigh and starts lowering his arm when she speaks at last.

“Tell me why your door knows my name. That’s what I’ve come calling about.”

Cardan sighed heavily, his head falling back, annoyance prickling but altogether muddled by the wine. Muddled along with every other emotion he liked to drown in the drink. He takes another long swig from his own goblet, which escalates to him guzzling it down to the dregs. He sighs when he finishes and sets the empty cup on his tray of food. Then he finally goes to address her once more, the alcohol giving him the patience he needs,

“Oh my nightmare nemesis,” his words slurred a bit. He swayed briefly, then collected himself before continuing. “For you to have heard my door use your name, you would’ve had to already be at Hollow Hall, since he is bound to this manor. Yes? So tell me again, without any lies from your mortal tongue, what you brought you to my residence--”

He is interrupted by the ruckus made by the guards outside.

“Any sign of the thief?”

“No! She couldn’t have gotten far!”

Cardan snapped his gaze back to Jude, her face suspiciously neutral. Cardan called out to his door, tilting his head in its direction but keeping his eyes locked on her.

“Darnallll,” the knocker appeared on his door, silently waiting for a command, “find out what the appearance of the thief was from the guards, will you.”

“No need sire, I can tell you right away. The thief was a fairy of short stature, with horns, and yellow eyes. The woman had hair, not unlike your guest here, and was wearing a gown of the same color,” the knocker’s eyes glanced toward Jude, who kept her face decidedly cool. Cardan knows Jude is crafty, she may not be a fairy but she matched the description minus the horns, eyes, and ears. There was a possibility.

Jude pushed her hair behind her ears showing off the round curve of them while opening her eyes comically wide.

“All clear here, though I do envy their horns. It seems like I’m not the only one who snuck into the Manor today,” she nodded towards the door, “some guard he is.”

Darnal laughed at that, mischief glinting on his brass features, and said, “I found her lurking in a stairwell listening against the door trying to see if there was anyone on the other side. She said she was looking for trouble---”

“You asked if I was looking for trouble,” Jude interrupted, her brows pinched together, “I decided to amuse you, Darnallll, so said I was. I wanted to see where it would lead me.”

She had drawled the door’s name out and turned up her chin. That pride of her unwavering. She turned back to Cardan to finish telling him how it happened, “So he led me to your room telling me I could find trouble here… So there, now you know how I met your door and why I’m in your room.”

She came over to him and at last, grabbed the wine from his hand and raised it to him, “To trouble and friendly, although unexpected, visits,” she finished her small toast and took a deep drink.

“But it doesn't explain why you were already in the manor nor how you already knew that this was Cardan’s chamber,” the doorknocker added.

“I seem to recall you saying this would be the fun, kind of trouble, I would hardly call an interrogation fun,” Jude bit back at the door.

“And yet when you announced yourself you immediately began interrogating my prince.”

Cardan watched the two bicker as he poured himself yet another glass. He brought his free hand up and rubbed his temple feeling a headache coming on.

“Enough!” the glamour rippled in waves from his throat, amplified by the amount of fairy wine in his system. It hadn’t taken long for him to discover that fairy wine (and fruit) amplified the strength of his glamour, not with the copious amounts that he consumed each day.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jude and the door stopped bickering at the sound of his glamour. His voice was low and rumbly, it radiated with power. Jude’s heart was racing in her chest. She knew she was doomed. She didn’t see any way to get out of this. Her knees felt weak. Cardan was going to turn her in. Then, he and Balekin would have a field day torturing her together as they tried to carve secrets from her flesh that they would never get. They would keep on carving her up, waiting for her to cave but the geas would render her unable to, even when the pain would make her desperate. Jude drank deeply from the wine he gave her, finishing the glass. If she was to be tortured then she would at least have the wine to dull the pain. She hummed as she felt her head start to swim and laughed to herself; at least she would appear to be able to withstand torture. Oh, trouble indeed.

She held her glass out to him for more wine. His eyebrow quirked at her but he complied instructing her to say when. She had him fill it to the brim.

“Well Jude, how did you know that these were my chambers?” Cardan asked her as she took another drink, his own words still slurring.

Jude laughed the wine making her lightheaded. She turned to look at the annoying door that doomed her and answered truthfully.

“Alice in Wonderland,” she said with her most annoying smile. If she was going to die anyway she might as well piss Cardan off one last time. Her last joy before she went to join her parents.

“I borrowed it from you, hope you don’t mind. It was one of the books my mother read to my sisters and me before we were whisked away to a wonderland of our own. However, Elfhame brings more terror than wonder truthfully,” the alcohol gave her loose lips but her head was light and she didn’t care. Perhaps this is why Cardan drank so much, she did feel quite relaxed. She spared him a glance and laughed.

Cardan had the most peculiar look on his face his mouth hung open and he had one finger poised in the air as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say. Jude decided she wouldn't give him a chance to.

“Darnal, you quite remind me of the talking door from the book. Although I find you more infuriating, perhaps it’s because you are trying to get me killed. I would like it if you were to stop that, I would very much hate to die.”

The door laughed at her words then spoke to Cardan, “looks like the wine did pull the stick out of her ass after all.”

“Oh hush you, don’t make me come over there,” to that the door magicked its face to another door in Cardan’s chambers and waggled his eyes at her as if to say come get me. Jude laughed again, it was such a nice thing to do. She turned to Cardan who still looked bewildered.

“Are you alright you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are ghosts even real?” she rambled to him, a smile on her face. She would enjoy confusing him before he killed her. Her head was spinning from the wine, she took another sip as she waited for his response.

“I was wondering where that went,” his words came out quiet.

Jude scrunched her brows wondering what he meant and then realized he was talking about the book.

“Oh yes! Oak rather likes it,” she takes another sip, “So now you know why I knew it was your room... now you must tell me why your door knows my name. Also, there was a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it over and over again stuffed in the book. I don’t like you much either but my word! I’ve never furiously written out your name till I ripped the paper. That’s a bit much don’t ya think,” she hiccuped out the last word as Cardan’s face turned pink with rage.

“I think you’ve found more than enough trouble tonight, mortal, perhaps you shoul--”

Darnel starts laughing up a storm interrupting Cardan. Cardan turns and grabs the bottle of wine, drinking from the spout.

“Oh I don’t think she found nearly enough trouble,” Darnel said as Cardan guzzled the contents down, “Lady Jude, my prince sighs out your name day after day and scribbles it on parchment in an attempt to rid you of his mind--” Cardan spits the drink out choking on it, the wine ruining his shirt even more.

“Why you!” Cardan snarls out, anger showing on his face; Darnel pays him no mind and plows on.

“It’s why I referred to you as his maiden as well!” the door is laughing as he talks, “I wonder if he fanci----”

“I command you to leave at once!” Cardan’s glamour radiates the room. Immediately Darnel the door knocker vanishes from the room leaving them in silence. All Jude can do is stare as she watches his chest heave up and down.

Then she starts to laugh. Really truly laugh. A bellyaching, body-shaking laugh. She can't help herself. The idea is absolutely ridiculous and the wine makes it that much more fun. Jude bends over holding her stomach as she lets loose a snort. A SNORT! She forgot she even did that when she laughed hard. She hasn’t laughed like this since she was in the mortal world. It was when her dad had snorted up cheese at a Mexican restaurant; a comedian told a particularly funny joke. It had all been so funny that Jude laughed herself silly, till her abs were sore---

The memory sobered her up quickly as her laughs turned to little sobs and then… nothing. Armor locking around her heart once more. She coldly patted away the tears on her face and looked to Cardan who seem miserable and mildly concerned. He was leaning against his bed shifting on his feet, looking anywhere in the room but her. Perhaps his face went pink from embarrassment earlier rather than anger. Perhaps he does fancy her after all. A scheme took form in Jude’s mind.

“I suppose it makes sense… You had your goons strip me to my underwear and ask me who I wanted to kiss the most. Then you ordered me to tell you how much I admired you while I kissed your feet,” Jude referenced the incident with the fairy fruit. His head snapped to her at once.

“I did not tell Valerian to drug you, nor did I tell Niccassia to strip you! They did that of their own volition,” he urged her, eyes flashing with anger at her accusation.

“But you did ask me to kiss your feet and tell you how much I admired you.”

He averted his eyes again, ears drooping and cheeks flushed as he refused to meet her gaze. At least he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I have a deal for you Cardan,” he looked up at her, “I’ll give you a kiss if you promise to never tell anyone that you saw me tonight.”

“Only if you swear to tell no one of the note with your name on it or of anything you heard or saw in this room,” his response had a bite to it, he was angry. Jude supposed it was easier to be angry than embarrassed.

“Then we can both swear to secrecy instead. Forego the kiss altogether,” Jude countered, she put a bite into her own words. She saw something flash across his face that was gone an instant later. Disappointment?

“Aww unless you still want a kiss poor princeling,” she mocked him, the fading alcohol making her bold. He deserved it. ‘Boys are mean to girls they like’ was a stupid saying from the mortal world, if he liked her he should have been kind to her. She would mock him for this until they struck their bargain of secrecy. She would hold this over him. She would shame him for it.

“I didn’t say anything Jude, you’re the one who sounds like you want a kiss now, offering me not once but twice,” his infuriating smirk returned to his lips. She couldn’t stand him.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You are the one who fancies me, Cardan,” she seethed.

“Did you ever consider that I want to revenge Locke?” Cardan sneered, “the door was the one who implied I fancied you. I said no such thing.”

That did make more sense to Jude. Locke had stolen Cardan’s lover and now he wants to do the same to Locke.

“Then what good would swearing to secrecy do. He will never know that you revenged him.”

“I will. I would know of the revenge and you would know of it, and that’s fine by me. He isn’t worth the effort of rubbing it in his face. He can go about thinking he has bested me. I will know that he hasn’t and that he is the one who looks a fool.”

Cardan moved from his spot as he spoke and pulled his wine ruined sleep shirt from his body. He moved to a basin in the corner of the room and dipped a rag into the water, wiping the wine that still stuck to his body. His scars were in clear view of her from where she stood. She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips.

“Once we strike our bargain it won’t matter that you’ve seen them,” he said in reference to his scars, “don’t bother asking.”

Jude didn’t know what to say, the memories of her last mission haunting her. She wondered what he would do if he knew she already knows how he got them. She went to sip her wine but her glass was already empty. She moved to the bed and placed her glass on his tray. When she turned around, she found Cardan an arm’s length away from her, using a new cloth to pat dry his chest. He didn’t look at her as he sat on the bed. He wasn't muscular persay, fairies don’t put on muscles the way mortals do. Even Madoc looked small next to a mortal bodybuilder. Cardan was skinny like all fairies were, but he had muscle Jude thought, eyeing the v-shape that trailed beneath his pants.

“You’re staring.”

Jude felt her face warm and she took a few steps back from the bed, putting space between them. She leered at him.

“Balekin makes me run drills with his guard since I’m so pitiful with a sword. Says I need to at least stay in shape. I hated it at first but then I started gaining even more attention from lovers, so I tolerate it now,” there was a grin pulling at his lips. Oh, he thought she was admiring him, that wouldn’t do.

“I was actually thinking of how you would look like a twig next to a mortal man, even I have more muscle than you do,” Jude said with a smirk.

His face fell into a scowl and she huffed a laugh at it. He probably hated that she just implied a mortal could be more attractive than him. Sure a mortal could be more muscular easily, but Cardan truly was handsome beyond reason, he made her head spin when she looked at him. Maybe it was the wine--- ughh she wished she could say it was the wine.

“Why would I want help you revenge Locke?” she said returning them to their previous conversation. Cardan huffs a laugh at her. His grin lighting up his beautiful face. How he was so perfect she didn’t know. He stretched his arms above his head, Jude tried not to notice the lean muscles there either, and then he leaned his back flat on the bed, his knees bent, feet still on the floor.

“Because he still lies with Niccasia, and he is to be wed to yet another lover. Locke is stringing you along Jude. So why not revenge him? Kiss the person you hate more than any other over him. Do it just because he is so foul and because he will never know that you did it to spite him. Just like you would have never known about either of his lovers till he broke your heart.”

His words stung. Jude didn’t love Locke but it still hurt. He was to be married. And he was still with Niccasia. She felt anger bubble up within her. Easier to feel anger than it was to feel hurt. Jude stood and she walked toward Cardan until she stood between his legs. He leaned up partway on the bed, resting on his forearms. Oh, he was making a show of himself for her she realized noting the way the light caught on the definition of his stomach. He wanted her to look at him. His lidded eyes seemed to say ‘aren’t I lovely’ and damn it if he wasn’t.

“Cardan,” she starts, his midnight eyes gleamed in the fairy light, “I swear to tell no one of your note with my name on it nor of anything I heard or saw in this room tonight if you swear to tell no one you saw or spoke to me,” her voice an arctic whisper as she held her hand out to him. He leaned forward to grasp her hand in his larger one.

“I swear it, Jude,” she could smell the magic as surged bounding him to his vow. She had magic to ensure he was faithful to his promise, but he had to trust her on good faith alone. Her head was spinning but she knew it wasn't because of the wine; it was from what she was about to do. Jude took a deep breath before the magic took its final hold and spoke.

“Then seal it with a kiss”

Next Chapter

#jurdan #jurdan fanfic #tfota fanfic #tfota #jude cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the mortal maiden #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #my writing

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novas-creepypasta-shame-pit · 3 years

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Introduction, Warnings, and Credits So I Don't Get Sued or Some Shit

Hey, if you ended up here I'm so sorry. My name is Nova (they/them), and I'm a major slut for Creepypasta and Slenderverse shit. Been a fan since I was in 3rd grade which is a little less fucked up than it sounds I swear. I'm making this blog to put my CPverse shit in it's own special place so I can keep track of details, characters, arcs, and other things. There isn't a hard set story but there are stories to tell here, and I'm here to tell em!

There's gonna be ocs, Marble Hornets is a part of this, I will be using Toby Rogers, I'm gonna be rewriting and redesigning several characters, ages with be fudged with, if you gotta problem that's your baggage and I'm not obligated to accommodate it. I'll have personal tags to keep my bullshit outta the main tags. Ex: True Crime Narrator | Nova

With that, all the boring shit in the down there part

Warnings include basically anything you can think of tbh, but there's some I feel necessary to note right out of the gate. All tags will start with tw.

Tagged

Murder, Gore, and Death are to be expected due to the general nature of the characters and fandom. I won't tag for murder itself but visual and detailed descriptions of gore will.

Child Abuse and Sexual Assault are here as several characters are mistreated as children and the main oc Sky is a CSA survivor. I will tag for explicit child abuse but not vague references. I will definitely tag for sexual assault.

Suicide and Suicidal Behavior are mostly a trait of the proxies and will be tagged.

No Tag Unless Asked

Cannibalism and Medical Horror kinda just goes along with Eyeless Jack

Sexual References because ya gorl's a whole adult and alot of these characters are older teens or whole adults it's not gonna be full detailed smut but the implications are there.

Drug Use of Various Types including underaged usage. I'm counting alcohol in here.

Fire is rather prevalent, mostly warning outta habit.

Can't Tag For

Gratuitous Projection because I find alot of comfort in these characters. Not a really a warning tbh just don't wanna leave anyone to wonder what my deal is lmao. You'll probably know it when you see it.

Possible Misrepresentation of Mental Health Issues as I am a young adult who still learning and researching all the time. I am doing my best but sometimes your best isn't enough. I felt the need to mention it for those who are wary. I do wish to rewrite some characters with large glaring issues.

With all that out of the way, If there's anything somebody needs tagged outside of the can't tag section, don't be afraid to ask, just bc this blog is for my self indulgence doesn't mean I wanna hurt anyone.

---

Oh this is going to be so long, ok credits. I make absolutely no statements about any creators in my use of their characters or my crediting I'm just trying to not get a lawsuit. Thanks Wade. Credits to be added as I figure things out and remember stuff. All characters :

CHARACTER CREDITS

Slenderman was created by Eric Knudsen aka Victor Surge

The Marble Hornets Cast was created by the THAC crew

"Ticci" Toby Rogers was created by Kastoway

Kate "the Chaser" Milens and Charlie Matheson Jr. were created by Blue Isle Studios

Jeff the Killer was created by Sessuer

Homicidal Liu was created by Vampirenote13

Jane the Killer was created by FearOfTheBlackWolf

Nina the Killer was created by AleGotic-Twevel

Zalgo was created by Dave Kelly aka Shmorky

Eyeless Jack was created by Azelf5000

BEN Drowned was created by Jadusable

Natalie "Clockwork" Outlette was created by Luciiid

Korbyn Jumping Eagle was created by Madame Macabre

CONCEPT CREDITS

I take a lot of inspiration from Jack Rammyz and his cosplay series Monsters of The Web, especially bloodlines and various bits of how proxies work.

Seer concept was created by Madame Macabre in her seemingly abandoned comic The Seer.

#introduction #True Crime Narrator | Nova #let's goooooo #creepypasta

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years

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The OTHER Members of Eve’s Coven

Me and @lilmissrantsypants couldn’t fit all the coven in as cameos in chapter 3, so here’s a rundown on the members who didn’t make an appearance. I added some of the stuff that inspired us into making the characters, My wife just went crazy with descriptions for her characters.

Aleister & Tantomile Deering: A pair of twins who were orphaned during WWII. They had to scrape by to survive, with Tantomile whoring herself out for drug money. They were turned when Aleister begged for help as his sister was overdosing. They were plagued by psychic visions as mortals, their powers awakening fully when they were turned. They are practically inseperable nowadays.

Power: Aleister and Tantomile have innate psychic abilities, activated by touching someone. Tantomile can see into a person’s past, while Aleister can see multiple outcomes the future could hold and then latch on to the most likely scenario. Their vampiric power is a twin link that allows them to experience the emotions the other one does, as well as keep them connected.

Inspiration: The psychic cat twins Tantomile and Coripocat from Cats

My wife came up with the basic concept and we workshopped them together from there; it’s a joint effort. She does Tantomile, I do Aleister.

Bartholomew Comstock: An overly aggressive puritan who was despised by his fellow townsfolk, he was banished from his New England home and forced to start a farm on his own. He nearly perished in the winter before Eve turned him. His hatred at being a disgusting, demonic creature such as a vampire is only ameliorated by his knowledge that Eve, having once been the angel Samael, ‘confirms’ his beliefs and allows him to eternally punish those he views as sinners.

Power: He believes his power gives him great strength against sinners, allowing him to inflict pain upon those who have done foul deeds. In truth, it is actually his own sins that give him strength, though his power does weaken as he exerts himself or runs low on blood (he cannot become unstoppably powerful).

Inspiration: The dad from The VVitch

Beatrix Cullen: Beatrix Cullen was a happy woman once, a skilled seamstress in the 1950s who simply loved the act of creation. She had an adoring boyfriend, and the two were set to be married, with Beatrix making a gorgeous wedding dress for her special day. But on that day, her groom never arrived, as he had been killed in a car accident on the way. Stricken by grief, Beatrix was easily convinced by Eve to join her coven, with the promise that perhaps her power could help her bring her husband back some day...

Power: Beatrix can imbue any object such as a sculpture or statue with life, essentially making golems without a magic scroll. Her most trusted golem is her mannequin, Manny, who often tries to steal her wedding dress. Her ultimate goal is to use her natural skills and her power to bring her husband back to life, stitching a Frankenstein monster of him and pieces of sleazy men who hit on her into a perfect flesh golem.

Inspirations: The bride from the Haunted Mansion, Kill Bill, Frankenstein, that one Tumblr post about 50s housewives fighting zombies with chainsaws, La Pascualita, Pegasus from Yu-Gi-Oh

Blanche Atterton: Daughter of Lady Drusilla Atterton, she grew up wanting nothing more than her mother’s love, though her mother was often far too preoccupied with “other things” (which she later learned was all of her plotting and planning to ensure her riches).When given the choice for vampirism, she excitedly vowed her loyalty to her mother and Eve. As she was only 15 at the time and children would not survive the turning, her mother waited until she turned 21 before turning her.Blanche does everything for her mother’s attention and love. She doesn’t hesitate to do her bidding in hopes of her mother praising her for it. She’s misguided, not evil, though her mother’s praise has given her a superiority complex and she’s a bit of a narcissist.

Power: Blanche’s power gives her a powerful, painful scream. Those within 5 feet of her screaming will suffer from temporary deafness for 5 minutes. Whether they fall deaf or not, bleeding from the ears is very common, especially among mortals.

Inspiration: Drizella from Cinerella

Dee Comporre: Giorgio Nero’s faithful, somewhat obsessed bodyguard. She quite obviously has a crush on him due to her hatred of any woman who so much as interacts with Giorgio, though Giorgio just sees her as being a bit overprotective. She has a shaved head, and paints her face to look like a skull.

Power: She can secrete and spit a powerful corrosive acid that can melt through even metal.

Inspirations: D’Compose from InHumanoids

Dorian Ferris: A serial killer known as “The Ferryman,” who always leaves coins over his victim’s eyes. As a mortal, he had far too many close calls, and was nearly caught several times, particularly during a bout in a town back in 1999. He tends to target wicked people such as domestic abusers, rapists, crooked cops, and so on, sending them down the River Styx ahead of time to make the world a better place. He willingly joined the coven to escape punishment. More than anything, he just wishes to live a quiet, peaceful life.

Power: Has luck manipulation, which can allow him to do everything from dodge attacks by near misses or turn his surroundings into a Final Destination movie for opponents. He tends to activate a particular mode based on the whims of a coin toss.

Inspirations: Jinx from Teen Titans, Final Destinatiin, Two-Face, Yoshikage Kira

Elizabeth Bathory: The Blood Countess herself. After evading death in the 1600s thanks to Eve, she became a loyal follower of the demon, and was recruited into the Order of the 1800s. Dracula and Rasputin managed to defeat her and supposedly kill her, but Bathory is notoriously hard to slay. True to her infamous reputation, she tends to “Feed” by bathing in the blood of her victims.

Power:Bathing in blood gives her an insane power boost; the longer she soaks, the stronger she gets. She can also absorb blood through her skin, though she can’t absorb the blood of supernatural beings this way.

Elvis Rey: Growing up near the border, Elvis always wanted to be like his hero, Elvis PResley. He obsessively watched the man’s performances and learned his every move. When the man died, he vowed he was going to become the greatest Elvis impersonator that ever lived. The 80s weren’t too kind to him, and drinking, gambling, and overeating left him looking like chubby later-years Elvis. With debt collectors crawling down his neck, he turned to Eve, and became a powerful vampire.

Power: He is capable of replicating any non-supernatural ability he sees. For example, if he watched a martial arts movie, he would be able to pull off those moves. Think the comic book character Taskmaster.

Inspirations: Elvis (Presley), Elvis (God Hand)

Giorgio Nero: Giorgio Nero was a member of Cosa Nostra who attempted to retire from this life due to his wife and child. However, his past would eventually catch up with him, and his child was nearly killed, which lead to Giorgio accepting an offer he had once rejected, but now couldn’t refuse: vampirism and joining with Eve’s coven. Despite everything, he is an honorable man who dearly loved his wife and adores and accepts his child.

Power: You know Magneto? Like from X-Men? Imagine that but instead of a Holocaust survivor it’s an Italian guy. Boom.

Inspirations: Magneto, Risotto Nero from Vento Aureo, Metlar from InHumanoids

James Wilson: James was born in 1812 as a slave. When he was 8, he was gifted to the man one of his master’s daughters married, along with 13 other slaves. As his former master’s name was Wilson, he took that as his surname. He worked as a stablehand until he became a farmer at age 12. After a rather brutal beating when he accidentally dropped a bag of freshly picked potatoes at age 25, James encountered Eve. She promised to help free him. She turned him into a vampire (1837). He lived on the run until the Emancipation Proclamation was issued and went into full effect in 1863. James used to speak in thick, Gullah speech, but over time, it has lessened as he acquired modern language.

Power: James’s power gives him the ability to summon and play with water. He can use it however he wishes: to drown someone, to create a small unnatural pool to swim in, or to cool someone off with a quick sprinkle. This comes from his silent love for water, though he wasn’t ever allowed to swim or play in it.

Inspiration: Splash Mountain

Juno Nero: The child of Giorgio Nero. They tend to wear long black coats, masks, and facial bandages to hide their face and body due to extreme anxiety. They are mute as well, and communicate via sign language. They are nonbinary.

Power: They can stretch their body like rubber (think Elastigirl, Rubber Band Man, Plastic Man, you get the idea).

Inspiration: Tendril from InHumanoids

Lady Drusilla Atterton: Born in 1852 in England as Drusilla Graham to a middle-class family. She grew up idolizing the wealthy and decided she would do whatever it took to become wealthy herself.Met Josiah Kipling, a 28 year old man, when she was 22. He fell madly in love with her. She was overjoyed as he was quite wealthy. They married in 1874 and had two daughters together (Katharine [1875] and Blanche [1877]). However, after 8 years of marriage (1882), Drusilla (now age 30) fell out of love with him and secretly laced his food with rat poison, ultimately killing him. As they had personal chefs, it was deemed to be the fault of the chef, who was arrested and charged with the crime. As his widow, she inherited a share of his wealth.Over the next 10 years (1882-1892), Drusilla married 8 other wealthy men from all over the country, all who mysteriously died less than a year later in what were deemed to be unfortunate accidents.

Donald Thompson, married in 1883, died in a carriage accident.

Maurice Parker, married in 1884, died of a laudanum overdose.

Timothy Edwards, married in 1886, died by drowning

Christopher Watson, married in 1887, died by falling out of a second story window

Nathaniel Harris, married in 1888, died of apparent suicide

Bernard Carter, married in 1890, died of a hunting accident

Percy Clarke, married in 1891, died after being attacked by a burglar

Timothy Atterton, married in 1892, died in bed (cause unknown)

She met Eve in 1892 shortly after marrying Timothy Atterton. Eve had heard of her reputation as the Cursed Widow (but knew full well her husbands’ deaths were her doing). As Eve was extremely weakened, Amon turned her. With Eve’s assistance, she killed her final husband by scaring him to death by introducing him to Eve. Drusilla vowed her loyalty.With the knowledge of how to turn another from Eve (as Amon refused to tell her how), Drusilla offered the gift of vampirism to each of her daughters. Katharine ( refused and cut herself off from her mother, instead choosing to live a full and honest life. Blanche, on the other hand, being so keen to be accepted and loved by her mother vowed her own loyalty to both her mother and Eve. When she turned 21, Drusilla turned her as well (as she was informed that youth would not survive the turning).

Power: Her power allows her to paralyze her target with a simple cold stare for a full 5 minutes.

Inspiration: Lady Tremaine from Cinderella

Lord Gordon Ruthven: A rich, aristocratic vampire who enjoyed luring in and preying on young women. He was part of the Order of the 19th century. He is currently a severed head, as his body was destroyed by the Silverwings.

Power: Can exude a charm aura that makes women more susceptible to his commands and desires, though it only works on women capable of being attracted to him (it would not work on lesbains, for instance).

Mabel Lockhart: A sickly young girl whose father made a deal with Eve to keep her from dying. Her dad is currently missing, and she is unsure if he’s even alive.

Power: She has the ability to absorb energy, such as steam energy, electrical energy, etc and gain boosts and power depending on what type she absorbs. For example, absorbing electrical energy would allow her to to shoot lightning. She can also absorb a person’s energy, but at most she can make them very lethargic and gets little else from absorbing that sort of energy.

Inspiration: Loosely based on the Pokemon Magearna

Maddox Hinton: Maddox was born in 1863 in a small town in England. He doesn’t talk much about his past, but he does boast about how he and his father were valued hypnotists in their small town. He was his father’s apprentice, learning how the art of hypnotism worked, though he wasn’t quite as successful as his father. This was what Eve used to convince him to turn to vampirism. It occurred when he was 25 and preparing to take over the family business.His power helped him convince his customers that they were actually under the effects of hypnotism. His father simply believed that taking over the business helped him tap into his true potential.

He continued this way until Eve demanded his help. He lied to his dad, telling him he was going to travel abroad and spread their business, causing his father to take over the business once again.Maddox served Eve for a few years before she told him she didn’t need his help anymore. It was likely this that irritated him so much that he eventually became loyal to Amon while under the very convincing facade he’s loyal to Eve.

The rest of his past is unknown. All he will often tell people is he traveled all over the world, performing great feats under fake names as “world-renown hypnotists”. Maddox is a wild card. He does things for the fun of it or for his own pleasure, often without any sympathy towards others.

Power: Maddox’s power allows him to take control of another (similarly to Gabby’s). However, he can take control of up to two people at once. Instead of physically puppeteering them, he simply suggests they do something and they do it.

Inspiration: Vex from Lost Girl

Margaret Derwin: Margaret was born in New York City in 1902. She grew up with a love for music, particularly singing. She had dreams of becoming a famous singer.When she was 18, she pursued these dreams. She got a job as a dancer at a speakeasy with hopes of, eventually, being able to become one of their singers in time. It was there that she met Elizabeth, one of the other dancers. They secretly fell in love (which answered Margaret’s confusion about why she wasn’t interested in men). Eventually, they decided to run away to California together. They made plans and prepared for this, but on the day it was to happen, Elizabeth never showed up. Margaret later discovered she had changed her mind and, instead, was going to marry a man she’d met at the speakeasy.Eve found Margaret heartbroken and wandering the streets looking for a new job after quitting at the speakeasy (as it was too difficult to continue working there when Elizabeth was still there). Eve easily wooed her to her side. Though, as Margaret had good intentions, Amon had eventually been able to convince her to assist him instead as he wanted to ensure Eve would stop preying on innocent people like herself.

Power: Margaret’s power involves her voice. Through singing, she can influence one’s emotions depending on her intentions (anger them, seduce them, calm them down, soothe them to sleep).

Nora: Nora’s memories are very faded. She knows she was born to a very poor family in Ireland. She knows she was sold as an indentured servant at age 13 in exchange for her tickets to America, board, and food. She knows she worked for that American family for 7 years. She knows she caught influenza and was promptly fired by the family for fear she’d infect them all. She knows she was near death, wandering the streets alone, when a massive black snake promised to save her. At the time, Nora believed it was just an illusion. She found out the next day, however, that it was not. She’d been saved by the gift of vampirism.Nora lived a long, long time as a homeless woman. She watched as America grew into a country of its own. She preyed on any she could find in order to survive. Eventually, she took residence in an abandoned house on a street. Over time, rumors spread that a ghost lived in the house on Blackwell Street. Her appearance and her power did much to add to this as well, as did the occasional mysterious deaths of those who wandered into the house hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost.

Power: Nora’s power allows her to become visible or invisible on command. She can only switch from one to the other every 10 minutes. She often uses this to frighten mortals and uphold her identity as the Ghost of Blackwell Street.

Tony Sugar: Tony Sugar is the owner, spokesman, and iconic figure of the Lost Paradise Candy Company. With the help of Amon, he became one of the first successful Black candy makers in America. He’s very flamboyant, campy, and charismatic—essentially a black Willy Wonka. He is pansexual because, in his own words, “everyone deserves a little Sugar.” He is also an avid beekeeper.

Power: He has the power to “mellify” corpses, filling them with a honey-like substance and turning them into zombies.

Inspirations: Tony Todd’s Candyman, Ruby Rhod, the song “Sweet Bod,” the myth of the mellified man

Walter Sherman: Formerly a college professor and devoted family man from the dawn of the 20th century, Walter was a good man known for always thinking forward and being able to accept new changes in the world. However, when a freak accident claimed the life of his wife and child, he couldn’t handle it and attempted suicide before being saved by Amon. He’s mostly in the coven out of loyalty to Amon.

Power: He has the power of adaptability, allowing him to easily adapt to any situation. For example, using lightning against him would make him adapt lightning resistance.

Inspirations: The Carousel of Progress

Wayne Nicol: A formerly friendly clown who was forced to witness unspeakable horrors during WWII. He survived the horrors, but was left fundamentally disturbed by the nightmare he had lived through. He joined the coven hoping to find some sort of safety, but as it turned out, Eve had other plans.

Power: Has the power to control and manipulate a person’s fears to weaponize against them.

Inspirations: Scarecrow (Batman), Pennywise, Freddy Krueger, The Day the Clown Cried

#The vampirino story

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rufousnmacska · 4 years

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Secrets and Confessions - Part 6

A Crescent City Ruhn-Hypaxia story

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

*****

Heavy beats of music and peals of laughter escaped from the open windows of the townhouse, carried down the sidewalk on the warm night breeze. When she reached the door and raised her hand to knock, Hypaxia hesitated. Days ago, Bryce had given her the address, and the encouragement to come here. But now ... now she wasn’t sure if she could do this. As much as she wanted to see Ruhn, wanted to repair this break between them, she still had no idea how she was going to tell him about the prophecy.

Jesiba hadn’t cared if she told Ruhn everything, yet the witch had forbade her from telling Bryce. Hypaxia couldn’t see a scenario where Ruhn kept this from his sister.

Then again, the more she’d considered, the more she thought he would. He’d do anything to protect Bryce. And if that meant offering himself up as a sacrifice to ensure a safe future for her, for them all … Well. That was definitely his style.

A smile crossed her face. He tried so hard to make himself look imposing and uncaring, hoping no one would see the goodness concealed behind that dark and dangerous first impression. Hoping no one would hear the self-deprecation hidden beneath his snarky humor. Doing whatever it took to distance himself from his father.

Fuck it, she thought. Not one to swear often, she’d heard enough from Ruhn and taken up the habit when the moment called for it. And right now was a fuck it moment.

It took several knocks for the music to be turned down and for someone to come and open the door. The fae who’d mastered the vidscreen feeds at the summit stood in front of her. He stared for a second, clearly trying to place her face. His eyes widened comically when he did.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, half bowing, half beckoning her to come inside.

She bit back a laugh. “You don’t have to do that. Really.”

“You’re the witch queen,” he said, as if that was that. No more discussion. But then he added, “Uh, Ruhn’s upstairs. Was he expecting you?”

Hypaxia had been hurt to learn Bryce knew nothing of her relationship with Ruhn. It seemed his sister had been right in her assessment that it had more to do with them being siblings than anything else. His friends knew. And even though the three were practically joined at the hip, making it almost impossible for them not to know, the thought centered her, giving her a boost of confidence.

“No,” she admitted, glancing behind him into the living room. Several sets of eyes looked back, some drugged, some clear, none with any recognition of who she was. Except for the other fae male that made up the trio. He was on his phone, staring at her, a slow, crooked grin taking shape on his face. He was more conventionally handsome than the techie, but less so than Ruhn.

It was funny how quickly she’d taken to using Ruhn as some sort of baseline. The balanced lines of his face, the sound of his laugh, the polite way he always held the door for her. The fire in his blue eyes and passion in his voice when he spoke about a case he was working on for the Aux.

By Cthona, it had all snuck up on her. He had snuck up on her, in so many ways.

She pointed to the staircase and started towards it, asking the tech guy, “Which is his room?” But before she reached the first step, Ruhn appeared at the top, sliding into the banister from a full run.

It had been so long – too long – since they’d last been face to face. The sight of him, in loose hanging pants and a t-shirt that looked as if it had just been thrown on, his hair pulled back, his eyes fixed on her … Hypaxia froze. Froze and waited for his reaction. Examining his eyes, she found none of the hurt that had clouded them before.

Taking the steps a few at a time, he descended, took her hand and silently led her back up, ignoring his friends the entire time. She squeezed his hand, and hope sparked to life when she felt his grip tighten in return.

*****

Ruhn had been staring at his phone for half an hour, his finger hovering over her name, growing more and more pissed off that he was taking Ketos’s advice. He wanted to call Hypaxia. He just didn’t want it to be at the behest of the mer. Though, he had to admit that Tharion was a decent male, coming here and giving Ruhn the kick in the ass he needed… Even if he’d basically threatened to go after Pax if Ruhn didn’t. Then again, he couldn’t be sure that Tharion hadn’t implied him in the threat, and not Pax.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled, realizing he was stalling. But just as he was about to make the call, his phone buzzed.

Flynn’s smirk practically poured out of the earpiece. “Your witch queen just showed up.”

Ruhn was out the door and sprinting down the hallway before another word was said. He’d managed to grab a shirt – was it clean? He didn’t fucking know – and got it on just as he reached the top of the stairs, almost killing himself trying to stop.

Hypaxia had a foot on the lowest step but didn’t move when she saw him.

The sight of her was like opening your eyes to color after seeing nothing but gray for years. Like the first gasp of air after being pulled from drowning. Like … like … He couldn’t think of another dumb metaphor. She was happiness. Serenity. She was all he wanted.

And he’d spent the last few weeks being an asshole. Gods he hoped she could forgive him.

Skipping down the stairs, he reached for her hand and brought her back up. The strength with which she held on to him sent a jolt through his chest, as if he’d been struck by lightning. The starlight inside started to bubble to life but he put a lid on it. It was at that moment that he realized his magic had been dormant. The last time he’d called on it had been with her. Since he’d left her in that park, he hadn’t summoned it, hadn’t felt it. And now, in her presence, by her touch, it was aching to burst out of him.

*****

When they were alone in his room, Ruhn let go. Immediately, the lack of his touch, brief though it had been, left her cold. He paced around, not saying anything, not looking at her. The spark of hope from seconds ago flickered, threatening to go out.

As she watched him walk in circles, she took note of the space. Large enough for a huge bed, a couple of sofas arranged around a vidscreen and elaborate music system, a work table half filled with gadgets and weapons in the process of being fixed or cleaned, a desk holding files and papers, a wall of stuffed bookshelves.

Bryce’s description of the place as a pig sty came back, and without thinking, she said, “You cleaned.”

Ruhn stopped and spun around, staring at her suspiciously, trying to figure out how she could know he’d done anything since she’d never stepped foot inside his house before.

“Uhh,” she muttered, “I can smell the cleaner.” She sniffed the air, finding nothing but his scent there. The scent she’d missed when it had faded from her sheets and apartment.

His eyebrow quirked upwards as he smiled at her, having figured out what had happened. “Bryce spoke to you.”

Hypaxia nodded, trying not to let herself be carried away by his smile. More than anything, she’d missed that. Making him laugh with a silly joke, making him smirk with desire, making him grin from the sound of her singing.

“Listen, Pax.” He ran his hand through his hair, only to get it caught up in the tie holding it back. With a harsh curse, he yanked it out, letting his black hair fall like a silk sheet.

Ogling him like a lovesick witchling, she was glad his eyes were downcast. At least until she could shake herself back to reality. And back to what she needed to do.

“Wait. I need to explain something first,” she said, regaining his full attention. His bright blue gaze was going to be distracting. After a deep breath, she went on. “Yes, I am a member of the rebellion. And yes, I wanted to recruit you. I think you understand why I couldn’t tell you about it. I may be a queen, but I’m young and newly crowned. My opinions aren’t given much weight among the leaders.”

Ruhn made a quiet huff of disapproval and crossed his arms. Hypaxia eased towards him, moving slowly as if he might disappear if she got too close.

“I did not pretend or exaggerate my feelings for you. This wasn’t a ploy to get you to help. In fact, I should never have become involved with you at all. I knew it could complicate things. But … you saw me. The real me. Before I was officially recognized as queen. Before the full weight of this new life started to pull me under. The way you looked at me made me feel ... real. Alive in a way that if I messed up or said the wrong thing, it would all be okay. I love you.”

Carefully, she brushed her fingertips across the back of his hand. At his intake of breath, at the pebbling of his skin, her hope from earlier returned. Perhaps he could see through the fog of self-doubt and insecurity that his father had poisoned him with. A poison that could not be removed by her magic. She could not fix him, and he was no cure for her troubles. The doubt that she’d never be the queen her mother was. The fear of leading her people in the war to come. These plagued her as much as Ruhn’s demons afflicted him.

Either he’d believe her or not. Believe in himself, or not. Fight his demons, or not.

She loved him. And she knew with certainty that though they could not cure each other, they could help each other. He’d already done that by being a safe haven from her daily responsibilities. A source of laughter and love, offering an ear to listen and a font of supportive words. He was what she needed. She wanted to be that for him.

Hypaxia realized that Ruhn was staring deep into her eyes, as if he knew what she’d been thinking. The smile that tugged at his lips at that moment reminded her of his magical abilities. Flames licked at her cheeks as she blushed, her eyes closing in mortification.

Shit.

“You heard all that?” She opened her eyes to find him grinning. He nodded. Scrunching her eyes up again, she said, “Please, say something.”

“Something.”

“Oh my god,” she said, shaking her head in annoyance and trying hard not to laugh. She failed.

But before she could say or do anything else, his hands were cradling her face and he was kissing her. She pressed herself into his body, relishing the feel of him, his warmth and solidity. One of his hands dropped to her lower back, eliciting a moan from both of them. The twin sounds were like fuel poured onto a fire, and with a single swift motion, Ruhn lifted her up. With her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, they deepened their kiss.

She was utterly lost in him. That scent of warm spices that called to her. The quick nip of his teeth on her lower lip that had her sighing his name. The way he groaned in reply, loving even the faintest sound of her voice. The pressure of his strong hands, holding her hips firmly against him.

And of course, his starlight.

Hypaxia opened her eyes as they kissed, intoxicated by the glow of his magic.

And just as he was about to lay her down on his bed, that starlight broke through the haze of desire, reminding her of the other reason why she was here.

*****

Ruhn had never experienced a natural high like this. No amount of alcohol, mirthroot, or any other drug could compare to it. To her.

Every sense was on overload and he was damn close to blowing a fuse. How had he lasted so long without her? How had he been so fucking stupid to stay away? Hypaxia had no reason to forgive him, and yet she had. She had no reason to be with him. And yet, here she was.

Somehow, she loved him.

Somehow. The disbelief threatened to undo him as much as the sensation of kissing her. He stood on a precipice that overlooked two possible outcomes. A leap off one side meant descending into hate and misery, an all too familiar landscape where his father would always be in control. A leap off the other meant love. Love and trust. In himself and Hypaxia.

Either he’d believe her or not. Believe in himself, or not.

She hadn’t intended for him to hear that. And he hadn’t lurked inside her mind to listen. It was as if she’d been yelling it into his brain. As if her magic sang to him. A song almost as sweet as her true voice.

“Gods, Pax,” he groaned into her neck as he laid her back onto his bed. “I’ve missed you.” He propped himself above her, watching her stare in awe as his light slowly faded. “I am so sorry for everything I said. For letting all my shit get in the way. I was an idiot and I’m sorry.”

“We all have shit that gets in the way of things,” she said, tucking his hair behind an ear.

“Even when you swear it’s like a symphony,” he said, getting her to laugh. And promptly melting at the sound.

“I meant what I said.” Red bloomed on her cheeks. “Or, didn’t say. We both have demons. I want to help you with yours.”

“And I’ll help you too. I’m sorry for being such an ass and overreacting.”

“Well, I need to apologize too.”

“No, you don’t,” he said.

She scooted out from under him to sit in the middle of the bed. “I handled it poorly. For that, I’m sorry.”

In the space of a few seconds, she’d grown serious, and Ruhn suddenly became worried. Had the rebel leaders punished her for being with him? Or for him finding out about them? Tharion hadn’t mentioned anything was wrong the night before when he’d stopped by.

“What is it?” he asked, sliding over to sit next to her. She crossed her legs and looked around the room, gathering her thoughts. “Does this have something to do with the prophecy?”

“What?” She practically jumped out of her skin.

He shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. In reality, he was starting to freak the fuck out.

“When I overheard you that night. With Tharion. He said something about a prophecy.”

Hypaxia’s throat bobbed and it seemed like she had to force herself to look him in the eyes.

“That bad, huh?” he said, trying for lightness. When she didn’t reply, he added, “It’s okay if you can’t tell me. I don’t want to get you in trouble for sharing secret intel or anything.”

For a moment, she looked like she might take the out he was offering. Might claim that it was top secret and that until he joined the rebels and was allowed to know, he’d have to stay in the dark. Ruhn had no idea what this prophecy might entail, but he had enough experience with them to know they were bullshit and ruined lives, even if they never came true. He was about to say as much when she finally spoke.

“It involves the endgame of this rebellion,” Pax said, taking one of his hands in hers. “You know about Theia and her daughters.” He nodded, trying not to get distracted by the warmth of her skin on his. “About how Pelias used the starsword to close the rift and seal off the demons from Hel to end the war?”

“I know the basics. Just what’s been passed down in bedtime stories. The books I’ve read don’t go into detail.”

“The legend is widespread, but it’s not accurate. The true history is murky. Even so, many prophecies sprang from that story, and that time. Some told by the fae, some by the witches, even the shifters, and sprites. The angels may even have some. But there’s one prophecy in particular that is shared by your kind and mine. We refer to it as the blade and the sword.”

Ruhn laughed, relief filling him. “Yeah. I’ve heard that one. Except it’s a knife and blade.” He waved off the different words, then, sitting up straight like a school boy, he recited, “When knife and blade are reunited, so shall our people be.”

Hypaxia didn’t smile. “Terminology aside, the fae version is only about your people. Mine applies to all the people of Midgard. All except the asteri.”

Ruhn thought about that for a moment. It was no wonder the rebels would fixate on that prophecy if they saw it as a means for liberation from the asteri. Glancing to where the starsword hung on the wall, he asked, “How long-”

“I’ve known about it for all my life,” she interrupted, guessing his question. “It was part of my schooling. But it was only yesterday that I was told specifics. About the greater implications.”

She was squeezing the hel out of his hand, and when he looked at it, she dropped it like it had burned her skin. He kept staring, trying to make sense of the fragmented thoughts running through his head. He believed her that she wasn’t using him to fulfill a prophecy. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t gambling away the hopes of the rebels on him.

The Chosen One. Chosen for nothing but the end of the Valbaran royal bloodline.

It was like the ocean. This darkness in his head. Endless and eternal. The doubts and loathing might go away for a short time. But like waves, they always came back. Sometimes big as swells during a storm.

“I’m not really sure what to tell you. If you think because I have that sword that I’m some kind of savior for the rebellion ... I may have pulled it out of the stone, but it’s powerless without the knife. And more importantly, it calls to my sister.” He looked up to meet her gaze. “Not me.”

He’d never said it out loud before. That the starsword, the fabled weapon of the Chosen One, didn’t really belong to him. He’d seen how it reacted to Bryce, the way it vibrated, the starlight glinting on its surface, inching towards her, wanting to be in her hand, not his. He’d seen how she tried to ignore it. At the time, he had no fucking idea that she possessed true starlight magic, let alone how much. But once she’d revealed it by going supernova, it had all made sense.

He stood and began to pace again. “I can’t do fuck all for your rebellion. But here’s something you can add to your list of prophecies,” he said, a bitterness in his voice that rarely played anywhere outside of his own head. “The Oracle told me that I’d be the end of the royal line. That’s what I’ve been chosen for. Not to be a good king. Not to save the fae. I’ve tried finding a silver lining. Some meaning that doesn’t involve death. But ending my father’s reign can’t be done peacefully. My only destiny is destruction.”

Hypaxia said nothing, just watched him with big brown eyes that seemed to see right through him. This was the part where she’d make some excuse. Realize how beneath her he really was. Realize no royal line would want to be tainted by his presence.

*****

She felt him fading. Falling into some dark place where all his fears resided. Closing the space between them she lifted his head so he was forced to look at her. She concentrated on how much she loved him, hoping his magic would hear and drive away the defeat in his eyes.

Caressing his cheek, she said, “I know about the starsword.” At his surprise, she hurried to explain. “Jesiba told me. Where she gets her information, I have no idea.” More somber, she went on. “As for the Oracle, I might have an explanation for that.”

Hypaxia continued, telling him about the intricacies of the blade and sword prophecy. That the two things must be joined in order to seal the rift. Pelias had wielded the starsword and possessed starlight magic, just as the stories told. But the blade that was not a blade, that had been Helena’s sister, an unnamed daughter of Theia who possessed barely a trickle of starlight. Just enough, that when combined with Pelias’s gift, it would ensure success. He killed her with the sword, allowing the power to transfer to him and ensure the door into Hel would never be opened.

She explained that with the horn a physical part of her, and as the true wielder of the starsword, Bryce would need to pull double duty if the prophecy were to come true. His sister would create a new rift through which the asteri would be banished. Then, she would need to close it.

At some point in her telling, Ruhn had turned away to sit on the sofa, staring into the middle distance at nothing. Each piece of knowledge seeming to hit him like a punch to the gut. “She wields the sword,” he said in a monotone. “And I am the knife.”

“Blade.” Hypaxia corrected, without thinking.

He faced her, his eyes shining. “You mean sacrifice,” he said. “By Bryce’s hand.”

Tears slipped free from her own eyes and ran down her cheeks. “Yes.” Furiously wiping her face, Hypaxia forced lightness into her voice and said, “But … but I don’t want you to worry. Jesiba wants me to find a loophole. She’s given me full access to her libraries, contacts, anything and everything. And I already have some ideas. Old magic that isn’t well known outside of the witches. And new technologies that might help.”

She began naming some of the possibilities, but he only looked at her, appearing to glaze over more and more with every word. Softly, she asked, “Ruhn? Are you okay?”

*****

Well fuck, he thought, sitting down hard on a couch as his legs finally gave out from under him.

No wonder he was a drama queen. Something in his subconscious must have been preparing him for the day he’d have to … what was it? Let his little sister kill him and steal his power to send a bunch of megalomaniacs into another dimension.

As Hypaxia rattled off potential solutions, Ruhn just stared at her, getting swept away by the notes and chords of her voice.

Gods, he loved her. Loved that she was already fighting to get him out of this. Loved that she was brilliant and brave and beautiful.

“Ruhn?” she asked, the change in tone drawing his attention. “Are you okay?”

“Does Bryce know anything about this?” Jesiba Roga was many things, her cruelty well known. But he knew in his gut that she cared for his sister. Even if she never showed it.

Pax shook her head, watching him carefully. “She and Hunt are under too much surveillance. Even so, Jesiba told me not to tell her. That order doesn’t extend to you. So if you want-”

“No!” he almost shouted. Then, more quietly, “No. She’s not to know. Not until it’s necessary.”

Eyes glossy, she tried to blink back the moisture that was building. “It won’t be. Not if I have any say about it.”

Ruhn leaned in and kissed her. Hard at first, turning more gentle as they drew it out and he brushed away the new tears that began to fall. “I love you. More than anything in this world. And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If that means dying to give Bryce my starlight, I’ll do it.”

As if she’d been waiting for him to say that, she opened her mouth to argue but he stopped her with another kiss.

“If there is a loophole, we’ll find it. You’re the smartest person I know. And I’m not half bad either.” Finally, she smiled. “If we combine our forces-”

“And Jesiba’s,” she added.

“And Jesiba’s, we’ll find a way around it.”

“How can you be so sure? How can you be so … happy?”

He kissed her again, pulling away to rest his forehead on hers. “Because you love me. And I love you. And right now, that’s all that matters.”

*****

The next morning, Hypaxia woke curled up along Ruhn’s side. She wasn’t sure if he was awake until he started playing with her hair.

“Mmmm, I like your bed,” she said, stretching her arms and legs as she rolled onto her back.

“I like any bed you’re in, majesty” he replied, rolling too so he came to rest against her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her on top of him, tickling her until she was breathless with laughter.

When she could breathe again, she said, “There’s a prophecy I didn’t tell you about last night.”

Ruhn closed his eyes, gently running his fingers up and down her back. “No. No more prophecies. No more oracles. No more fate and destiny and all of that other shit.”

“It was more of a vision actually,” she said, laughing as he sighed in exaggerated surrender. Pushing herself up on an elbow to stare into his jewel like eyes, she said, “Shortly before she died, my mother had a vision that involved me. It was after she was gone, after the coming war. And it’s got me thinking. She said I would not be alone. She saw me with someone.”

“Who?”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “One who is chosen.”

Ruhn huffed a quiet laugh. Pulling her back down and returning to stroking her back, he said, “If you’re trying to get me to accept that ridiculous title by saying I’ve been chosen by the Queen of the Valbaran Witches…” He paused for effect and then sighed again. “That just might work.”

Resting her cheek on his warm, bare chest, right over his heart, Hypaxia began to hum. It was an ancient song that Ruhn loved, telling a tale of young love that is lost and then rekindled. Her voice was soft at first, building up slowly until the humming turned to singing. She felt more than heard his deep moan of appreciation. And as his delicate fingers tapped out the familiar rhythm on her back, she smiled.

The end.

*****

Thanks for reading! And sorry for the quickish ending. I’ve got a lot going on right now and couldn’t devote the time to extending this into a full blown, super long fic.I may pick this story up again in the future though, and I have other ruhnpax headcanons I’ll eventually post.

tagging - @itach-i (thanks for all the beta reading!), @queen-of-glass @julemmaes

Fanfic masterlist

#crescent city #ruhn danaan #hypaxia enador #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar #tristan flynn #declan emmet #tharion ketos #jesiba roga #sarah j maas #house of earth and blood #secrets and confessions #my writing

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ageofevermore · 4 years

Text

Loved You Too Late

Summery: in which Daisy and Charlotte Johnson love their mother after it’s too late.

Pairings: Charlotte Johnson x Daisy Johnson (platonic!)

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: canon violence from 7x10, definite spoilers if you haven’t seen the newest episode, death, blood, violence, brief mention of gun violence, brief mention of suicidal actions

masterlist

As a child, she would live vicariously through the animated stories she preached on the doorstep of a rundown New York orphanage. Her sisters hand was always tightly pinched between her fingers, and alone in a projected fantasy, she would paint the scene. The story always began with a reunion, the description of a women that could walk on water with eyes of pure chocolate.

She ran with her delusions until she was sixteen years old, and the rundown streets of New York reared it's ugly head in her direction. She was a lonely kid, having nobody but her pessimistic chocolate eyed sister to confide in, and even then Daisy wasn't the best listener. She would rather be off with her head in a computer, creating algorithms that could surely incriminate them both, then paying attention to Charlotte as she pictured a day when they weren't orphans.

When the twins were twenty-two, a burning building collapsed and within the madness their eyes locked on the fragile frame of a desperate single father. Neither one of them had expected to be found out by two men in suits just hours afterwards and brought to a plane where their chosen family unknowingly awaited for their arrival.

Being twins did nothing for their similarities, or lack thereof, despite the preconceived notion surrounding same gender multiples. Charlotte was light eyed, Daisy was dark. Charlotte loved the prospect of a screen free life; Daisy spent her days trying to advance technology. What truly set the two apart was their draw to authoritative figures, and lovers.

Grant Ward was not Charlotte's cup of tea, neither was Phil Coulson. She had found quickly that she would much rather be sat in the cockpit beside a stone faced Melinda, than wandering in circles around the jet with an overexcited Coulson and brooding Agent Ward. Growing up, Daisy was the only damage control Charlotte had ever known. It wasn't often the light eyed twin got her hopes and dreams smothered beneath bad news and storm clouds, but she was easily mislead by the world and it's true intents.

When the twins were eighteen, they had been broken apart by boys and loneliness. Daisy vowed to never let her sister fall so far again, but everything had piled up quickly once they joined forces with shield. Grant Ward tried to kill Charlotte. He sent Fitz and Simmons plunging to the depths of the endless ocean. He broke Daisy's heart into a million pieces and months later had the persistence to try and win it back through pity and childhood trauma.

As if that wasn't enough to dampen the happiness Charlotte was finding with Agent May and the Shield team, her sister fell in love again and made friends with a man named Trip who only lived to see the inside of a stone cocoon before crumbling at Daisy's feet. Weeks later, with new combined powers of a hurricane, Daisy and Charlotte faced the monster of a women who had once been an angel with guarded hearts and past trauma locked away. Lincoln was a man who had lived to see the break of day above the earths surface, but like every man the twins had loved before he met an untimely death and left them with more scars to bare daily.

For a while, after the death of Jiaying at the hands of Calvin, the twins returned to their bubble of self protection. Charlotte clung to Daisy, and Daisy turned her attention to computer programing. Nothing got better for them from their, they just lived with the pain they were bound to encounter. Maybe they weren't meant to find stability or content. The life of an orphan was never one filled with sunshine, rather wilting bushes of thorns.

Never did Charlotte think her mother would be circulating the current conversation as a lively variable, but she hadn't expected to be living in 1980 either.

"--Leaving this Mallick unleashed on the world could have irreparable consequences. He's taken control of afterlife, we have to get it back." Daisy and Charlotte walked into the endings of a rant delivered by Coulson, his expression blank as he stared down at the flashing computer console.

Mack nodded in agreement to Coulson's game plan, his shoulders square and frame stood tall as he subconsciously clenched his fists. It was a sight that would have made Charlotte months ago, but that was before they were sent spiraling through space and time and forced to go through groundhogs day which only ended with the death of another friend. "Starting with his hostages."

"And protecting Jiaying at all costs." Coulson nodded to Mack's addition, neither one of them noticing how Charlotte's face fell and she desperately clutched onto the hem of her soft pink shirt. Daisy noticed her sisters apprehension though, shuffling over so their limbs were side by side and Charlotte wasn't left standing on her own feeling less then seen.

"Simmons, can you send our coordinates to her watch?" Mack asked the loyal agent, his dark chocolate gaze fixed and pointedly avoiding Charlotte's devastated features, "On it." The British agent replied with a curt glance at her best friends faces.

"I don't think it's a good idea to bring her here." Daisy stuttered, speaking up for herself and Charlotte after realizing her younger twin was shocked speechless by the rapidly declining turn of events. Charlotte was sweet, sensitive to the purest of indifference. The world was crumbling beneath her feet for the third time, but now neither Fitz or Enoch was their to ground her.

Coulson sighed, but didn't have to think about his response as he looked the twins over with paternal pain in his robotic blue eyes. "I hear you," He began, "but we can't lose anymore parents."

"This is about protecting your existence." Mack fed into Coulson's bullshit excuse, his shoulders still squared and only tensing the sadder Charlotte's light eyes got. She was the glue that held the entire operation together, and seeing her so distraught by the return of her mother who had once been a daydream and a nightmare, nobody wanted to go through with a plan that could potentially cause her harm. Especially not Coulson and May who looked at the twins as their own kids.

"Aside from May and Yo-Yo, Jiaying doesn't know us. We could minimize what we tell her. Nothing about her future, her power, or you, her--"

"Daughters?" Charlotte asked, her gaze twitching between May and Coulson who were breaking beneath the weight of her heavy sadness. Charlotte wasn't a good Agent. Not when the mission was personal, and she tended to always make things personal. She loved hard, and she felt deeply. She could turn her words to lightning, but nothing could stop the shatter of her heart every time the world worked against her.

May's sigh was audible as she looked between Charlotte and Daisy. Her lips were curled downwards, only adding to the black pit that was gnawing at not only Charlotte's nerve but her patience. "Um, Lottie, there's one other thing. At Afterlife, there was a women--"

Whatever May planned to tell the twins was drowned out by the sound of crackling electricity and a strobe of circular blue light. Charlotte gripped onto Daisy's hand, the both of them fearfully turning towards the source of intrusion. Daisy's face was completely blank whereas Charlotte's told a story of a hundred heartbreaks.

"That was fast." Jemma mumbled, coming to stand by Charlotte's side. She noticed the twins interlocked fingers, and how tightly they clung to each other, but now wasn't the time to vocalize how they weren't alone. Jemma knew all to well that in the face of trauma Charlotte and Daisy couldn't help but feel like it was them against the world.

"He's hunting us."

"My people need protection." Jiaying stepped forward, angling her body in a manor that protectively shielded Gordon. Charlotte flinched at the sight, not knowing her mother to be a women of such thoughtless heroism. The women she spent sixteen years animatedly dreaming about had turned into a nightmare with a murderous past. She wasn't usually one for grudges, but Jiaying didn't sit easy on her memory.

"Leave that to us." May stepped forward as well, her body not before both Daisy and Charlotte as she squared up to Jiaying. May was short, and it was comical to Charlotte how most people found her intimidating, but she didn't have the heart to smile at the sight of May being protective. She felt sick, to leave it simply.

"I don't know who you people are, and somehow you knew how to find me." Jiaying argued peacefully, her voice level and irritatingly calm. She was nowhere near the same violent women Charlotte remembered, but she still had thirty years of heartbreak and misfortune to become cold and murderous.

"We needed your help." Elena tried to reason from the staircase, her gaze pleading for cooperation on Jiaying and Gordon's behalf. "And then you led that man right to our front door!" Jiaying argued without fault, tone clenched and rightfully angered from her own unknowing perspective.

Charlotte flinched when Daisy squeezed her fingers tightly, bracing herself with the courage to speak up and converse with their mother before she becomes a monster after blood. "We're not your enemies." She tried to reason, "We save Inhumans. He wants to take their gifts. That's how he got his."

"Is that even possible?" Jiaying asked, eyes fluttered beneath the weight of Daisy's words. Charlotte, who was still shaken up and healing from their adventurous excursion shifted between her feet uneasily.

"It is." Charlotte weakly responded, looking towards the floor to avoid Jiaying's shocked expression turned in her general direction. She could feel the strings of a panic attack tightening in her stomach, and she knew the telltale signs were visible on her tense features, but now was not the time to run away and mutter breathing exercises beneath her breath. She's an agent of shield for fucks sake, she can't always run and hide.

"That could kill them." Jiaying turned to whisper to Gordon within the same beat that Yo-Yo advanced towards Coulson and Mack, "If I can get in, I can get them out without being seen. I got my power back - thanks to you."

"And if you get taken, you could lose it again, and then you give it to --" May's argument was dismantled by Coulson's thoughtless proposal, "I'll go. Scout a point of attack. You said 'be me.' This me is disposable, if I get caught --"

"You are not disposable!" Charlotte argued in the same breath as Mack, the two sharing a distraught glance when their eyes met and the weight of Coulson's words brushed against their hearts.

"Recyclable then, minimal risk." Coulson correction, and Gordon stepped forward, accepting the suggestion, "I can take him in."

"I can't allow that." Jiaying counter claimed, her eyes kind and caring as she turned towards Gordon with a look neither Daisy or Charlotte had ever personally received. The twins shuddered visible, their sadness understandable. "It's the easiest way. I know the layout. I'll drop him somewhere secret and then go." Gordon insisted.

Jiaying didn't pose another argument, though her posture quivered as she backed down from Gordon reluctantly. Mack didn't waste another moment though, shoulders squaring slightly, "Alright. We'll fly close in the Quinjet. You and Gordon drop in, do recon, and find the prisoners. Then Yo-Yo and I will go in."

"I'm going with you." Jiaying offered, stepping forward again and closer towards Mack. She was desperate at this point, clearly feeling like the world was falling apart beneath her fingertips. Charlotte wished she could sympathize, but she was overrun with petty emotions and tribulations.

"We need you alive." Coulson argued with a straight face and entangled hands. Daisy and Charlotte had still yet to let go of each others embrace, instead inching impossibly closer as the seconds ticked by and they were still stunned by their mothers soft presence. "Your people need you to lead."

"I have to get her back." Jiaying pleaded. "Kora wont listen to you. Maybe I can talk some sense into her!" Jiaying pleaded, and it was then Charlotte and Daisy noticed the glances being thrown their way. May was tense, breath hitching when Jiaying went off on her protective tangent. Elena was just looking between the women in red and the girl in pink with friendly worry.

"But if she sees you, it can provoke her. A-And then everyone's at risk." May spoke softly. It was a tone usually reserved for Charlotte, the women having a hard time turning off her emotions when in the presence of the younger Johnson twin.

"They're right. We can't risk it." Gordon blindly shook his head, tilting his chin down in the direction of Jiaying.

"I'll stay," Jiaying defeatedly surrendered, "but you have to bring back my daughter."

As a child, she had imagined what it would be like to reunite with her parents. She had spoken to Daisy for years about the wonder that is their mysterious history. She was sure they had family somewhere in the world, not wanting to think that they were entirely alone in the world, but she wasn't sure to what extent their bloodline ran. Never had she expected to have both a lively, and murderous, mother and father, or an older sister lost amongst time and unfortunate meetings.

"What the hell, Mel!" Charlotte cried as she followed Melinda May through the maze of computer circuits and paneling. Her eyes were brimmed with hot pools that dared to spill at a moments notice as the gears in her head continued to turn. The women she had just witnessed was in no way the same as the mother she had mourned. "Did it just slip your mind that we have a sister?"

There was a broken edge to Charlotte's question that had May faltering and spinning around on her heels. Charlotte had never been the type to demand answers, but it was clear this particular secret had struck her the wrong way. It was a side of her that nobody at Shield had ever witnessed, and May never wanted to hear that broken edge again. "We were trying not to be swallowed by a time storm."

"Were you purposefully trying to keep us in the dark?" Daisy took over, seeing the dangerous gleam of tears in Charlotte's eyes, "Is this some weird way of trying to protect us?"

"No." May breathed deeply, grabbing at Charlotte's arm and pulling the girl farther down the hallway with Daisy close behind. "No, but Kora is volatile. She already tried to kill your mother."

Daisy sighed, looking defeatedly between Charlotte and the empty space behind the lot of them, "She just never said about a sister, another kid."

"It's possible that Kora wasn't alive." May revealed, watching as Charlotte's face sunk and the tears that had gathered slipped down her cheeks like a river leading to the soft gates of heaven. "When we were at Afterlife, she stole a gun from a guard, and I think she intended to use it on herself. But Nathaniel got to her. I think in the original timeline she --"

"She went through with it." Daisy shuddered, her mind racing back to the moments in New York when Charlotte had been close to the same fate. "Which is why my mom would have left Afterlife to go do charity work and meet our dad --"

"We can't go down that hole right now, Daisy." Mack startled Charlotte as he came up behind the two of them, his eyes softening when he watched Charlie desperately shake the tears from her eyes.

"Let me go with you." Daisy projected the offer, eyes wide and hopeful at the thought of meeting said older sister.

"No." Mack shook his head before walking closer to the twins, "We need you and your mother to survive. You're staying put."

"Don't tell me it's because I'm not 100% because I feel fine." Daisy argued, looking between Mack and May with bleeding desperation, the complete opposite of what Charlotte felt. Then again to reiterate the minuscule similarities, one was dressed in soft pink and the other was clad in black leather.

"You're not going." Mack didn't back down, "This isn't time for that family reunion. We promised your mom we'd save Kora."

"If she can be saved."

Charlotte had been less then thrilled to be pulled away from her room by an overly anxious Daisy. She had been laying in bed paralyzed with guilt and sorrow for a few hours, feeling less then alone with the continual chimes of her wrist watch. Her team members were looking for her, and yet she didn't have the energy to face them and plaster a fake smile onto her lips as to not worry them in the moment.

Daisy hadn't told her where they were going, but her stomach was churning with common knowledge. Charlotte should have been over the moon, always having been the one to idolize a day with their mother, but knowing the course of Jiaying's life and having just barely healed from the trauma, she wasn't sure she could do it all again willingly.

"Tell me there's news." Jiaying begged the minute her unhardened chocolate eyes met the approaching frame of her twins. Charlotte was sure her face was blotchy from tears, but she had no standards for how she approached her murderous dead mother who was instead alive and kind.

"I'm sorry, nothing yet." Sousa sadly shook his head, the apology only worrying Jiaying more.

Daisy and Charlotte were frozen, childhood dreams and adult traumas collected in their vivid memory. They weren't ready for this, and yet they had no choice but to take what was given to them by the 1980's.

"I knew this was a mistake." Jiaying sighed, ringing her hands together nervously as her mind bounced between the status of Kora and Gordon. "I never should have agreed to this."

"You can trust us." Daisy promised, cutting off her nervous babble and beginning steps of a familiar pace. Charlotte did the same when she was nervous, and her chest tightened at the thought of what other traits she could share with this version of her unharmed mother.

"Trust you?" She gasped, "I don't know anything about you! And no one will tell me anything." Her voice got softer as she went, chocolate eyes growing sad at the turn of events.

"We just want to help." Charlotte softly broke to Jiaying, "Afterlife is important to us, too."

"You don't know that first thing about it." Jiaying mumbled, truly believing her words because she was equipped with no further proof or memory.

There was a beat of silence before Sousa spoke up abruptly, "They've been there." Charlotte and Daisy looked at him with wide eyes, not expecting him to openly blurt such compromising intel.

"Before your friends showed up we'd never had an outsider find us!" Jiaying argued. Sousa shook his head fondly, eyeing the twins with a smirk that held all of their worth, "They're no outsiders. Go on. Show her."

Daisy and Charlotte breathed in sharply, shaking a glance before raising their respective arms. Charlotte had always favored her left when channeling their powers, while Daisy had taken instantly to her right. With a breath Daisy rattled the glass of water sitting on the computer table, and Charlotte summoned a bolt of lightning from the electrical outlet just beyond. With another calculated exhale she shot the harvested bolt back towards the water, listening to to the sizzling crack as the water warmed and boiled, and a ring of black settled on the rim of the glass.

"The perfect storm." Jiaying mumbled, looking over the twins with astonishment. "Where did you learn that?" She asked, looking back and forth between Charlotte and Daisy with amazement.

"From you." The older of the twins broke softly, "In Afterlife. In thirty years. We're from the future, and I know how that sounds, but its...it's the truth." Charlotte wasn't sure what she would do if Jiaying didn't believe them. It wasn't easy to go along the word of somebody who cries time traveler.

"I, um..." Jiaying looked down, closing her eyes tightly before reopening them and glancing up at Charlotte, "I had a feeling I...I knew you. There's something...so familiar. Your gift, it's a lot like...Nathaniel took that from you."

Daisy and Charlotte both nodded, "It almost killed us."

"It's knowledge of the future that lead him to us, that he used to warp Kora's mind and turn her against me." Jiaying looked down at the console of outdated computers, her kind chocolate eyes conflicted.

Charlotte stepped closer to her mother, fueling Daisy's confidence as she followed. The two had done everything together since they were babies, they'd damned if that stopped now in the presence of their mother. A mother who hadn't even birthed them yet. "Where you close with her?" Charlotte asked softly.

"Inseparable." Jiaying recalled fondly, "She clung to my leg the first three years. Shy, sweet girl."

"What changed?" Charlotte asked softly. Jiaying frowned for a moment, looking over the girl clad in pink. She was so similar to her Kora. Soft spoken, sensitive. It only amplified her feeling of familiarity.

"Terrigenesis. I thought she was ready, but, Kora lost control. There were accidents. The more I tried to help, the more she pulled away.

"That must be hard." Daisy nodded thoughtfully. Charlotte was speechless beside her sister. This was the women she had dreamed about for sixteen years. A women made of fairytales and soft chocolate eyes ready to sweep them away from the clutches of abuse and neglect. This women didn't exist anymore, tarnished by the harsh hand of murder. "Being so close to someone and not being able to reach them."

Charlotte and Daisy had unconsciously grabbed onto each other, standing before Jiaying and Sousa with entangled hands and trembling strength. "That others - they wanted her gone, but they don't see what I do. Kora has a good heart. She's worth saving."

"Well, she's lucky to have you." Daisy smiled softly, wishing that it had been her and Charlotte to experience such a tender and kind Jiaying. She envied the sister who had thrown it all away to feel powerful. "My power has allowed me to live a long life. I used to think it was my greatest gift, but I was wrong. It was her." Charlotte swore her heart stopped beating. Her face fell, the grip on Daisy's hand growing slack when she was overcome with petulant anger and jealousy for Kora. "Um, sorry. Did I say something?"

Charlotte shook her head sadly, "Growing up, we never knew our mom. And when we finally found her, she wasn't who I hoped she would be." Her eyes were glassy as Jiaying stepped forward. Charlotte fought against every natural instinct in her body, not wanting to flinch away from an embrace that had once tried to kill her but was now so sweet.

"She hurt you." Jiaying concluded, laying her palm softly against Charlotte's cheek. There was no forceful pull from deep inside of her. Her powers were still her own and the life wasn't being extracted through the soft contact. Everything about this women was different. "I can't speak to your mothers reasons, but for me, sometimes trying to do the right thing comes out all wrong."

In that moment Charlotte forgot about all the pain knowing her mother had caused. She loved this version of Jiaying, who hadn't been broken down by mass tragedy. It was a side she never thought a monster could wear, forgetting the monsters aren't born, they're made.

"Daisy, do you copy? Charlotte come in!"

Charlotte and Daisy scrambled for the walkie-talkie sitting on the computer console, eyes still glassy but hearts not as heavy with thick emotions of trauma. "Mel?" Charlotte answered.

"John Garrett's here with Nathaniel, and they have Gordon's powers. Get Jiaying someplace safe." May instructed, fighting off her own maternal instincts when she heard how thick and scratchy Charlotte's voice was. The poor girl thought she was good at masking how she felt, but she was still a painted cavass uncovered to the public.

"We have to go." Daisy seethed. Charlotte led Jiaying out of the room and down the hall with Daisy at her side, knowing it was better if Sousa didn't follow along. They were already a tight cluster, easily identified because of their numbers, they didn't need to put another agent in danger.

They walked briskly down the hall, trying to get their mother to safety, but that failed when Nathaniel stood in the break of a hallway dressed in his eerie black leather coat. His were tucked into his pocket, feigning innocence, but Charlotte and Daisy took no chances. The twins stepped before Jiaying, arms raised and powers at the ready to strike.

"Don't shoot." Came his monotone voice, hands raised in the air pathetically. Charlotte's eyes crackled with electricity, the soft broke of her eyes overtaken by bolts of white lightning. Charges of manifested energy crack at her fingertips, sending a warmth up her arms and down her legs. "The three of us in here, you want to bring the whole of rivers end down on our heads?"

"Give me a reason." Daisy challenged, while Charlotte just scoffed at Nathaniel. She hadn't the patience to deal with a man as entitled as himself.

"Where's Kora?" Jiaying worried for the safety of her daughter, not knowing that beside her were two of her own creations, "What have you done with her?"

"Sorry, Kora couldn't make it. But she sends her best." Nathaniel played cheekily, stepping closer to the trio who was easily on edge awaiting the next shoe to drop. "And don't you look at me like that. You still have Charlotte and Daisy. Isn't two daughters enough?"

Charlotte's strength faltered for a moment in the face of the reveal, looking over at Jiaying with worry before forcing her eyes back towards Nathaniel to avoid unnecessary heartbreak.

"Oh, you didn't know." Nathaniel laughed menacingly, watching as Jiaying stopped to fully glance at the twins. They were undeniably sisters, but the faint traces of her in their nose and lips was subtle and breathtaking, "Wow, it's like a season finale of Dallas around here."

"I'm sorry." Charlotte whispered, she wasn't even sure if Jiaying could heart her over the tremble of heartbreak in her whispered words. She was shaking her head, trying to rid the tears from around her eyes. Bolts of lightning flashed through her irises, reminding Jiaying fondly of a younger Kora. "What you said about your mother, you were talking about me." Jiaying pieced together, looking horrified by the thought.

"It's okay." Daisy nodded her head, having forgiven Jiaying hours ago. The women she had become was horrible, but it was a result of endless pain and torment. This was the mother she wanted to remember for years in advance. The mother she wanted to be for her own kids.

"I hurt you? But I would never--"Jiaying had tried to find a reason in her mind as to what could have led her down a path of such horrible actions, but Nathaniel beat her to it, "It's actually a riveting story. See, Hydra just cuts you all to bits. You're left for dead, your power stolen. That part, you all have in common now, "Nathaniel laughed menacingly, hardly caring for the violent shudder his words provoked from Charlotte of the single bolt of lightning that zapped past his head and struck the wall. "Daisy grows up alone. Sad. Charlotte tries to kill herself at fourteen. Kind of like Kora. They find you eventually, you're all militant and they're with shield."

"Stop it." Charlotte's voice trembles, her eyes pinched together tightly to prevent bolts of strategized lightning from striking Daisy and Jiaying at her sides. She usually had impeccable control, but nothing was as it should be it seems.

"You're on opposite sides." Nathaniel doesn't stop, not like Charlotte thought he would in the first place, "So you start to drain the life out of them. You almost succeeded with Charlotte too, she just had to save her big sister." He taunted Charlotte, his eyes watching as she overheated, close to combustion from how harshly she was trying to block out the memories. "It's working, you're about to kill her, but guess who steps in to crush your spine. Dear old --"

"Enough!" Charlotte and Daisy plead together. The lights flicker overhead, a bolt of lightning and crack of vibrations shooting out towards Nathaniel and knocking him on his ass. Charlotte was heaving heavily, overcome with a burning desire to set Nathaniel Mallick ablaze.

"Nice Quake! I give it a B." Nathaniel shrugged as he stood from the ground, eyes burning darkly as he stared the twins down. "Definitely room for improvement." He threw his arm out, a concentrated vibration sweeping both girls off of their feet and sending them towards the wall made of metal pipes. Charlotte squeaked as she made contact with the floor, a rim of red soaking through the soft pink of her shirt. "If you haven't done the math, I've had these powers a lot longer then you both have."

Daisy and Charlotte watched from the floor, breathing heavily as their already injured bodies tried to compensate for another harsh force. Jiaying's face hardened at the sight of blood falling from Charlotte's nose. Tightly she wrapped her hand around Nathaniel's neck when he walked past her, draining the life from his body without second thought, "Leave my daughters alone."

"Stay back. I won't say it again." Nathaniel seethed after he rammed his elbow into Jiaying's side and sent her stumbling back into the concrete of the wall. Jiaying didn't listen though, it was never her specialty, and protectively she reared forward in motherly defiance.

"Mom, no!" Charlotte gasped, but it was too late, a stream of angered vibrations was sent towards Jiaying, paralyzing her for a moment before Nathaniel smirked wickedly. Feeling the energy of the room at his fingertips, he summoned a bolt of electricity towards Jiaying. Her neck snapped to the side beneath the vibrations, and to ensure she was dead before the eyes of her daughter he struck her heart with the syphoned electricity.

Charlotte cried out painfully, writhing on the ground beside Daisy in a fit of absolute hysterics. Her fists pounded on the concrete, creating pools of blood that only smeared against her cheeks when she fervently wiped at the rivers of tears falling from her eyes. Echoing shrieks shattered Daisy's eardrums as she watched their mother fall silently. She didn't know what to say whereas Charlotte didn't know how to stop screaming.

"No!" She sobbed over and over again, startling Nathaniel who hadn't seen the girl so broken apart even with his knowledge of the future. For a minute he faltered, listening to her high pitched wails, but all it caused was a wide smirk to play on his lips when he collected his bearings. "Well, I guess she won't live forever. And you won't live at all." He smirked wickedly.

Charlotte and Daisy were overcome with grief, rising from the ground with flickering lights and rumbling floors as their entourage. Charlotte's eyes were encased with a fiery white glow, purple bolts zapping from her fingers and shocking Nathaniel. Daisy was no better, face contorted into pained concentration. Electricity cracked around them, but before they could make a calculated attack Melinda May came to their defense.

A gunshot echoed around the hall, having struck Nathaniel in the shoulder. Charlotte fell the to ground, gasping and crying out for air and for life to return to her mother. May froze for a moment, eyes watching as Charlotte Johnson broke completely, having learned to love her mother too late.

For hours they sat on the floor of the lighthouse, hands entertained as their mothers lifeless body laid in their embrace. Her eyes were a light chocolate color, void of any emotion. She never lived a life of murder and manipulation. Never was ripped apart and used by Hydra. She was an innocent claimed as collateral. She was an Inhuman, an ally, a mother.

She had once been a mother whose daughters had loved her too late.

#agents of shield #Daisy Johnson #melinda may #jaiying #phil coulson #alphonso mackenzie #jemma simmons #leo fitz #elena rodriguez #deke shaw #quake #avengers #marvel #fuck season 7 #give me 10 more #i dont want this shit to end

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riseatlantisss · 5 years

Note

Can I request an angsty/fluffy King Orm x female Surface dweller (how original i know haha) : he saves her from a dangerous situation (like a physical assault or something) and he goes all Ocean Master on the people who tried to hurt her ? I love me some badass overprotective King Orm ! Thank you !!

Sorryyyy about the late response, hun ! This was a very interesting plot, I don’t know if that’s what you meant by “assault’ but I hope you like it ! 1,2k words.

Warning : mentions and light description of a physical assault .. but mainly it's just King Orm being adorable and badass :) Also, not everything about Orm's powers in the fic is movie canon but it sure is comics canon ! enjoy !

English isn’t my first language, please excuse the mistakes.

King Orm hated parties. He was always more of a solitary type, even back in Atlantis. But now he was living on the Surface with you, and he wanted nothing more than to make you happy. You wanted to go to a club near the beach, and he made an effort for you: That’s how much he loved you.

The club was crowded. Usually you didn’t much enjoy this kind of event, but you wanted to introduce Orm to some of your friends and show him how fun the Surface could be. He promised to give the evening the benefit of the doubt but even so, you had been able to feel the tension coming off of him since you walked into the club.

“I do not like these Surface dwellers looking at you that way” he said after a while, jutting his chin towards a group of drunk guys gathered in a corner.

You shook your head. “Baby, come on, lighten up! Think about how much Arthur would love this place!” you laughed.

“I bet he would…” Orm scoffed. “Please stay close to me,” he added as he put his arm around your shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, I just need to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” you kissed him on the cheek.

“Wait,” he yelled as you started to walk away. “I’ll come with you.”

God he could be annoying. “Orm, please. I am a big girl, I can pee on my own,” you laughed. “I’ll survive, okay? See you in two minutes.”

Orm let go of your hand, but did not take his eyes off you until you disappeared into the crowd.

Just as you reached the restroom door, you felt a hand grab your shoulder. He is unbelievable...You thought. “Orm, I told you not to…” but as you turned around you realized that Orm was not the one who grabbed you. It was one of the drunk guys you saw when you entered the club.

Your eyes widened and you immediately tried to free yourself from his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Instead his hand moved from your shoulder to your hip and he pulled you closer to him.

“C’mon. I just wanna talk to you, beautiful.” His voice was hoarse and he reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

You tried to scream for help, but he quickly put his hand over your mouth to shut you up. Even if you had screamed nobody would have heard you over the music blasting through the speakers. Your eyes filled up with tears and you closed them. You could feel his grip tightened around your waist. You couldn’t move an inch – you were frozen...

... That’s why it took you a minute to realize that your aggressor had suddenly let go of you. You opened your eyes and watched him get thrusted with an unbelievable violence right into the wall of the restroom. You were completely in shock, trying to catch your breath, your vision was blurry. Finally, you realized what was happening: Orm.

Only, it wasn’t really Orm. The Ocean Master had replaced him. He lifted the creep as if he weighed nothing and smashed him on the floor. You looked away, but your attention was brought back to the two men when you heard the wet smacking of Orm breaking the dude’s nose. Looking at his face, you could see Orm’s beautiful blue eyes turning into a bright, sparkly orange.

When he came to live on the Surface with you he promised to leave the Ocean Master behind. He wasn’t abandoning his responsibilities towards Atlantis, but he wanted you two to have a normal life, as much as possible. If he revealed his true nature now, then that would be ruined and his efforts would have been for nothing. The last thing you wanted was for him to get into trouble because he defended you.

“Orm please, he’s had enough!” you cried, not only fearing that he used his powers, but also that he might kill him.

Orm looked at you and saw how frightened you were. He slowly lowered his hand and bent down to whisper to the pig’s ear: “You don’t know what I am capable of. If you come near her again, I swear, you will suffer the rage of the Seven Seas. I will not stop next time.”

He turned away without a backwards glance and took your hand to lead you outside the club. He clearly did not give a shit about the people staring at him in fear. His eyes were literally glowing with rage, and that murderous look made people step out of the way. Honestly, if you didn’t know him, you’d be just as scared as all these people.

Once outside the club, he didn’t slow down the pace. He led you straight to the beach. You rarely saw the ocean that agitated. It was like your boyfriend’s anger was reflected on the water. Black waves were crashing on the shore, their roar echoed across the sea, all the way along the beach. The wind lashed in a torrent of its own design and dark clouds began to fill the sky, smothering the moon and stars. The waves grew more and more impressive as Orm struggled to compose himself.

“Orm, my love,” you implored, “please, calm down!” At moments like these he was completely unpredictable. You didn’t even know he had such powers without his trident.

You pulled on his hand, turning him around to face you, and cupped his face with your hands. “Look at me. I’m fine. Please, I am begging you, calm down.”

In his eyes, you could see the exact moment he came back. He wrapped his arms around your waist as his breathing started to stabilise. The ocean slowly regained its peacefulness, as he did.

“I’m... I’m sorry, my love,” he finally breathed, as he came to his senses. “Are you ok?”

You were still in shock, but you bursted into tears in his arms. His arms. It was the only place in the world where you felt entirely safe. Orm gently wiped the tears away from your face. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him. His face was still hard, his eyes brimmed with sorrow and heartbreak from seeing you cry.

“...What will your brother, and your kingdom, think when they learn about what happened?” you manage to say between sobs.

Orm shook his head, his eyes narrowed with anger. “My sole purpose on the Surface is to keep you safe. And I will, even if I have to drown every single Surface dweller that tries to harm you. Trust me, I will not hesitate – and I do not care about what Atlantis, or my brother, have to say about it.”

“One thing is for sure,” he added, as he pulled you back to his chest, “I am never leaving you alone again.”

#king orm marius #ocean master #ocean master x reader #king orm x reader #the one true king of atlantis #aquaman #aquaman fanfiction #DC #fanfiction #king orm imagine #request #patrick wilson #angst #fluff #king orm x you #orm x reader #arthur curry #jason momoa

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strangershield · 5 years

Text

A Midnight Call

Pairing: Daisy Johnson x Reader

Warnings: description of injuries/ blood

A/N: I added a cute lil Fitzsimmons moment in this so enjoy. Also, requests are open!

“Bloody mortality.”

“Daisy!” You screamed as the now blonde staggered through your door, face clenched as she drew quick and short breaths. The door slammed behind her, rebounding off the wall with a solid thud. You were positive that it would leave a dent, but your wall’s plaster was the least of your concerns. All of your worry was now focused on Daisy. She swayed with uneven footing until she collided with an armchair. Meanwhile, you had leaped from your previous position on the couch and raced towards her, hitting your toe on the coffee table in the process. You swore but ignored the pain, high on adrenaline and fear. The newfound energy pulsed through your veins as you reached her collapsing form. She saw you approaching, but could only grunt due to the pain that consumed her body. You arrived by her side just in time. Your arms wrapped around her middle as she fell, the chair providing little support. Her head lolled onto your chest, feverish and sprinkled with perspiration. Your heart rate continued to soar as her breathing intensified, still coming in short bursts. Her dark eyes rolled back into her head, exposing a milky blankness that made your mouth go dry. Her body became slack in your hands, crumbling against your weak grip. Your hands fumbled to hold her better, to try to prevent further injury. That’s when you felt it, a sticky warm substance that flowed onto your hands by her side. It didn’t take you long to figure out what it was, you didn’t even have to look. You knew the coppery scent of blood all too well.

The next few hours faded in and out like flashes of a camera. After Daisy collapsed you moved her onto your couch, unfazed by the stains which her blood would inevitability leave on the grey fabric. However, the blood itself did concern you. Normally you weren’t one to scream or faint by the presence of blood. But there was something about Daisy’s that made your stomach churn. Maybe it was because it was hers, your Daisy’s. Or maybe it was because her face had grown dangerously pale and slick with sweat, her eyebrows twitching together as she remained in a dreamlike state, never quite reaching unconsciousness. You found the courage to leave her to tear apart your kitchen to find bandages, water, scissors...any supplies that might be needed. Upon returning to her injured body you found the source of the gushing blood at her side. Carefully, you cut away the fabric to inspect the wound, the sharp snapping of the blades filling the room. You gagged as you made your first assessment. You were no doctor, but the blood alone told you that it wasn’t good. There was too much blood. You couldn’t tell what was an open wound and what wasn’t. Blood had covered her skin, coating her in a second scarlet skin. With the mixture of wet and dry blood, of fresh and old, you couldn’t tell how bad her wound was. Hesitantly, you grabbed a wet washcloth and placed on her skin with a shaking hand. You wiped the blood away, trying to scrub as gently as possible on the tougher areas where it had already began to dry and flake away. Daisy remained still, occasionally moaning when you touched her more sensitive, tender skin. While the blood left streaks you worked away until it had mostly been cleaned, the scarlet dulled down to a few auburn swirls. You were oblivious to the new mess you had created, not noticing how her blood stained your skin and clothes. Perhaps it was for the best. Seeing her blood on you would’ve sent you into a panic. Setting the used cloth aside you reassessed the wound with nimble fingers. It was bad. Two circular opens granted passageway for her blood, two openings into the world. One was bleeding less profusely, a trickle of coppery substance running down her side. When you looked closer something gleamed in the light. Confused, you grabbed you phone for a light and froze, your gag reflex kicking in. The bullet was still encased in her skin, glinting silver amongst red. A part of you let out a sigh of relief. This was good. This meant less blood, less damage. Simultaneously, it meant that there was a freaking bullet in Daisy. Who knows if it was laced with poison or something worse. The other wound scared you more. It was similar except for the excessive amounts of blood. In fact, you couldn’t see the extent of the damage because of it. Your own blood froze when you realized why; the bullet was gone. It must’ve fallen out, or worse, gone straight through her. Hot tears spilled from your eyes as you wiped them away with shaking hands, fuelled by frustration and fear. You couldn’t do this. So, you called your emergency contact, no matter how much it would annoy Daisy or potentially get her in trouble. You loved her and she was dying. It was simple really. You needed help. You needed Jemma.

Fitzsimmons came in a neatly tied package, so you weren’t the least surprised when you opened the door to find Jemma and Fitz at your doorstep. In normal circumstances you would’ve smiled and greeted your two friends warmly, leading them inside with a hug and the promise of tea. This was not normal. Jemma tried to keep appearances, but her smile almost comically fell when she saw you. Fitz swallowed hard by her side, his eyes flickering everywhere and anywhere. You must’ve looked a sight. Despite not having seen your reflection, you knew that you were almost covered in blood from head to toe, none of it your own. The wind attacked your wet cheeks, making you shiver as you ran a hand through your hair. Dishevelled, just as you had expected. No words were passed as you opened the door wide, the pair quickly entering your home. There was no need to lead them to Daisy, she was in plain sight. You closed the door with a soft click and rested your forehead against its wooden frame for a moment, stalling. The moment didn’t last long as you peeled yourself away, back into reality. Jemma was already kneeling by Daisy’s side, Fitz looking as helpless as you felt. Fitzsimmons mumbled words inaudible to you as you watched from afar. The world seemed to move as you stood in a trance, your mind unable to comprehend anything. It was as if you were submerged in water, making movements languid as you stood frightfully still, drowning. Unbeknownst to you, Fitz’s attention had turned to you. He took one glance and felt his heart sink. You were almost as pale as Daisy before he made eye contact with Jemma, an entire conversation had with a single look. Carefully he crossed the room, walking slowly towards you. You didn’t even see him approach, so you jumped when a hand was placed on your shoulder. Your eyes bore into his, and suddenly the trance started to break. Fitz noticed your glassy eyes and shaking frame as he smiled kindly. What if he was in your position? What if Jemma was bleeding out on his couch as he watched helplessly? He’d be a wreck, and that wasn’t even scratching the surface. He couldn’t imagine your pain, so he offered the one thing that always comforted him.

“Tea?”

The strong, soothing aroma of chai tea filled your small kitchen as Fitz carefully placed a steaming mug in front of you, the soft clink echoing as cheap china collided with wood. The sweet yet spicy tea did wonders for your mental state, the smell alone making your shoulders relax. Fitz watched you tentatively from across the table, his mind working overtime. He wanted to say something. The right something. Yet words failed him. Nothing seemed, well, right. Meanwhile, you were lost in your own world, except your mind was terrifyingly blank. You slowly ran a delicate finger around the perimeter of your mug, your lethargic state hypnotized by the continuous circle. Shock had hit you hard, completely freezing your mental capacity. You no longer felt worried or stressed or scared, only eerily calm. Your mind was blank, although it conveniently steered clear of any thoughts of Daisy. You couldn’t think about her, even if you wanted to. She was bleeding out on your couch, only a wall separating you two, and you were helpless. Maybe the shock was a good thing.

“How’s work?” Fitz asked suddenly.

You looked at him through your lashes and watched as he picked up his tea and took a hasty sip. Immediately he regretted the action, recoiling from the tea as he winced and put the tea down at arm’s length. The hot liquid burnt his throat and made tears brew in his eyes, yet he tried to remain composed. You smiled with something like pity, eyes flickering back to your tea.

“You don’t have to do this Fitz.”

His eyebrows knitted in confusion. “This?”

You sighed, heart and mind heavy. “This,” You gestured to yourselves and the tea. “Being nice, trying to have a normal conversation. I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s-“

“Wrong, I know,” he said quickly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I just...don’t know what to do or say.”

You longed to reach across and take his hand, to reassure him that he was doing his best, but you were too exhausted to attempt such an action.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, willing for him to look up. He did, your eyes locking. “You’re okay.”

Ever since his injury, you had found that Fitz sometimes needed some extra reassurance. He was terrified that his mind would take over and cause delusions again. He was also terrified of losing his friends or messing up horribly. Fitz let out a sigh as he stared at you, teeth just visible as he worried at his lip. Slowly he learnt across the table and found your hand, the action you didn’t have the strength to do. His warm hand encased yours, squeezing ever so lightly.

“She’ll be okay.” He whispered. You swallowed thickly and moved your eyes towards your connected hands, praying that he didn’t see your glistening eyes. In truth, the shock was beginning to wear off. You felt exhausted, every muscle and bone in your body aching. It was hard to keep your eyes open, let alone focus. Exhaustion also made you more sensitive, and thoughts of Daisy were beginning to resurface.

She was next door, dying, and you were drinking tea.

You felt sick, disgusted with yourself. However, the disgust was hopeless. You couldn’t help even if you wanted to. You let out a frustrated sigh as you buried your forehead into your shoulder. Fitz ran a thumb over the back of your hand, feeling just as helpless and stuck as you. He hated seeing you in so much anguish and pain, his heart beating sickly. You were his friend and you were in so much pain, and he could only watch. It seemed unfair, this torture. Unfair, unjust and plain cruel. Two soft taps against the doorframe made Fitz tear his eyes away from you. Slowly, you forcefully lifted your head and searched for the cause of the noise. The sound of a chair scrapping against tiles filled everyone’s ears as soon as you locked eyes with Jemma. Both you and Fitz watched her, carefully avoiding the blood that stained her clothes and latex gloves (that girl was always prepared). She offered you a tired yet kind smile as she leaned against the archway.

“She’s stable,” Jemma said softly, and you felt air enter your lungs for the first time in hours. “She will need further treatment, but she’ll need to move to SHIELD for that. For now, she can rest.”

You and Fitz clung to her every word as if it were liquid gold. Knowing that Daisy was okay allowed you to breathe again, and an invisible weight lifted from your shoulders. But knowledge wasn’t enough.

“Can I-“ You stuttered, unable to finish. With a nod, you raced out of the room, carefully avoiding crashing into Jemma. The scientist sighed as soon as you were gone, giving her husband a small smile. Fitz stood instantly and engulfed his wife into his arms. The embrace was warm and comforting, allowing Jemma permission to relax. He rubbed his thumb across her shoulder in slow, soothing circles as she buried her head into the crook of his neck.

“You did good.” He mumbled against her forehead, his voice muffled as he placed tentative kisses there. Jemma sighed again, her body collapsing into his. No tears were shed, for they were too tired for that. Instead, Fitz held Jemma’s weak form as she clung onto him, desperate for comfort and support. The late night house call had heavily impacted their consciousness, even if they didn’t admit to it. You and Daisy were as close as they were, inseparable and the best of friends as well as soulmates. What if the roles were reversed? What if Jemma had been injured, or Fitz? It was the noisy and ever present what if’s that made their hearts bleed. Jemma and Fitz stood together as one as time froze around them, two silhouettes illuminated by the kitchen light.

Despite the rooms being next to each other, the air in the living room seemed thicker somehow. Denser, making it hard to breath. Yet it wasn’t warm, your skin peppered with goosebumps. However, maybe the temperature wasn’t to blame. Your heart thumped painfully in your chest as you stopped with a jolt, eyes landing on her.

Daisy.

She was alive...hurt but alive. Her cracked lips were parted, drained of any colour other than ashy. Her skin seemed to convey the same greyness, all white with barely any life. Yet there was still blood. It had now dried, but it clung mercilessly onto her skin, her clothes, her hair. You drank in her unconscious form that was carefully situated across your couch. She looked like a warrior version of Snow White. You approached her slowly with timid footsteps, not wanting to disturb her rest. Up close you could see the horrid array of bruises that had already begun to blossom, covering her skin in various shades of purple and yellow. It made you convulsively choke. Of course she had been injured before (you couldn’t count the number of times that you had helped her bandage her bruised arms), but it was never to this extent. It was never so sudden either, so desperate that coming to you instead of SHIELD was the best option. You didn’t want to know who did this to her, or why such brutal force was necessary. Slowly you lowered yourself until you sunk to your knees, crouching beside Daisy. Immediately your legs began to ache, not used to having to support your body weight in such an awkward position. Yet you didn’t care. In fact, you only sank lower onto the floor, crushing your ankles beneath you. Carefully, you let your head rest on her shoulder, sighing deeply. You closed your eyes, somehow breathing in her perfume amongst the blood and sweat. It almost made you smile, the perfume. It was a reminder that this was Daisy, your Daisy, and she was okay. You sat their momentarily, lost in your own thoughts. You were so far gone that you didn’t notice Daisy’s sudden intake of breath, nor her groggy groan.

“(Y/N)?” Came a rough, husky whisper.

You jolted upright, something suddenly stuck in your throat. With a frenzy your eyes searched her face, but you couldn’t see anything but a blurry haze. Hastily you wiped your face with the back of your hand, desperate to see her. She was smiling at you, softly and delicately as if the small action costed her a large amount of strength. You smiled back but your eyebrows creased together, making it more like a grimace. You found her hand and gripped onto it tightly, her fingers dancing against the back of your skin. Her wheezing frame longed for you, and was more than happy when you shuffled closer. Softly, you placed your head atop of hers, inhaling the leftovers of a floral scented conditioner intertwined with a deeper, coppery scent. Your hands remained together as you closed your eyes. Daisy was already asleep, exhausted from her injuries. Her soft snores and sighs lulled you to sleep, the warmth of her body providing comfort and relief. If you listened closely, you could faintly here a dull thump amongst her wheezing and groans. Perhaps you were imagining it, but you didn’t mind if the thump was a figment of your delusions. Audible or not, a heartbeat meant that she was alive.

#agents of shield #Daisy Johnson #daisy x reader #marvel #aos #fanfic #fitzsimmons #daisy johnson x reader #writing #my writing #agents of shield fanfiction #marvel's agents of shield #skye x reader

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writingiswilde · 5 years

Text

OC Introduction

Name: Ofelia Marcel Díaz

Age: 24

Birthday: July 25 (she chose it)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Gender: Female

Personality: Very adventurous and street-smart, but also optimistic and hopeful to a fault. She’s honestly got a heart of gold.

Physical Description: She’s 5’7” with dark brown, wavy hair and tar-black eyes. Athletic build. She had ichthyosis vulgaris, which basically means she has extremely dry, scaly skin that can cause her to overheat easily. Her teeth are also kinda sharp. She usually always has bandaids or scratches on her knees and elbows from falling.

Background: Ofelia was born in (presumably) Lima, Peru; she never knew her family because she was dropped off at an orphanage shortly after her birth. As a child she spent most of her time reading whatever she could get her hands on, becoming proficient in Spanish, English, and Swahili. Moreover, she got into freerunning and parkour around the city, which got her into some trouble with the orphanage. Despite this, she went to America on a full scholarship (BS in Biology, double minor in psychology and philosophy) then becoming a Rhodes Scholar, and while at Oxford she got a doctorate in taxonomy, and all of this was on an advanced course. She’s been working her way up to become a professor.

Excerpt from story: The humans thought they were the only ones. The only ones on Earth, at least. That was what they believed until they discovered radio waves coming from deep inside the Amazon rainforest. A group of explorers and scientists was sent in to investigate.

Only one survived.

Charles led the group through the Amazon, his heavy, snake-proof boots crushing branches as the sound of his machete slashing through vines was drowned out by the shrill shriek of cicadas. Sweat trickled from his temple, collecting at the ends of his mid-length chestnut hair. He held himself at all times with an unwavering determination, canyons carved into his face by the omnipresent furrow of his brow and frown etched on his face. Piercing blue eyes flowed into a large hooked nose that took up a comically large portion of his face.

The summer passion flower was in the midst of blooming, its indigo tendrils reaching out amidst a bed of lavender petals, the fruity nuances wafting through the air. The world was tinted green by the towering leaves of the Brazil Nut tree, briefly punctuated by the rainbow fluttering of a macaw.

Ofelia had been brought into the group as the resident biologist, specializing in taxonomy, though she has dabbled in most other environmentally based fields. She had just finished teaching one of her lessons when she looked on the bulletin board of the college. Big, bold Help Wanted lettering popped out against the weathered paper covered up by various ads and flyers. It piqued her curiosity, so she pulled on the corner, bringing more of it into her line of sight. Gingerly she pulled it from the board as she read what it said, her heart beginning to beat faster and faster as she read what it said. In need of a biologist. Danger, little pay, and an expedition into the Amazon all popped off the page, but she only saw adventure, discovery, and fulfillment. She wanted to make her mark on the world. As soon as she got back to her small, sparsely furnished apartment, she called the number on the paper, getting passed from line to line until she set up a meeting with Charles.

Charles reared back to chop through the thick foliage when a golden blur a little less than two feet long shot out in front of him, darting back and forth in between the four other members of the group.

(credit for the picrew to @sangled)

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #oc introduction #My writing #wip #sci-fy #amazon #poc #lgbt #ofelia #bisexual #i love her #she's baby #but also she'd kill you #tell me if you want to be added to the tag list

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rosecorcoranwrites · 5 years

Text

Video Games as Textual, Audiovisual, Spatial Storytelling

Video games are worth your while and are a unique form of storytelling. Games combine the best aspects of books, movies, and comics, while offering one other element, which we’ll get to later. First, let’s talk about games’ use of textual, audiovisual, and spatial storytelling.

Text and Subtext

Like a book, many games use text to tell their story. Older games rarely had voice acting, instead having each character’s words written or typed out on the screen. Games that now have voice acting still usually reserve it for cutscenes and use text for the majority of encounters in the game. This is somewhat equivalent to a comic’s use of speech balloons.

Some games, however, use text in a way unique from comics or books, and that is by using it in the descriptions of creatures and items. Okami is but one example of this; each time you fight an enemy, a description of it is added to your bestiary. These descriptions reveal new information that the player wouldn’t know simply from fighting each creature: that’s not just a flying fish, but the soul of a drowned woman; that electric mirror was struck by lightning, became a tsukumogami, and holds some of the theatrical feelings of it’s former owner; that scarecrow monster is the physical embodiment of loneliness felt in wintery lands. Although these descriptions don’t affect the main storyline, they add to the player's understanding of the world of the game. Similar encyclopedic items are found in other games, such as Pokemon’s Pokédex or Breath of the Wild's Sheikah Slate camera.

Certain games rely more heavily, if not entirely, on such descriptions to tell their story. Dark Souls is a hands-off game that gives players only the barest minimum information: in order to light the First Flame and stop everyone from going undead, ring two bells, fight four guys, get their souls and dump them into the Flame. That’s it. Not a lot to go on, and if that were it, I can’t see Darks Souls ever having become as popular as it is (especially considering how punishingly difficult it is). But beneath the surface lies a trail of breadcrumbs to follow; in the descriptions of each article of clothing, piece of armor, or weapon lie an intricate story and world building. If the player takes the time to pay attention to what is said, what items look like, and how they are described and then connects the dots, they are rewarded with a totally fleshed out story. Before I watched my brother play Dark Souls (It’s way too hard for me to play myself), I thought I hated dark fantasy, but Dark Souls sold me on it, and it did that with its subtle yet complex storytelling technique.

Art Style and Sound Effects

Games utilize visuals and sound in a way similar to movies, in that they present their story with specific camera angles and blocking (in cutscenes, at least) and use recurring theme music and sound effects. Games do, however, tend to be more stylized than movies. In terms of visuals, this was originally due to technological limitations; that is, graphics had to be simple because arcade machines and game cartridges didn’t have the capacity to handle more complicated data. Nowadays, the visual style of a game is a deliberate choice on the part of the developers.

As an aside, more realistic or better graphics do not necessarily equate to a better art style, in that “real” is not actually a style. There’s nothing wrong with games that choose realism, but I personally prefer those that present something more intentional: the painted scroll look of Okami, whose story is based on folklore; the lanky griminess of Dark Souls, which has themes of death and a world passing away; or the neon, middle-school-skater aesthetic of Splatoon, a paint-ball/skatepark simulator. Choosing a particular style and color scheme for a game can affect the way the player feels about it. Should they be scared, or amped up? Should it seem serious, or goofy and silly? Should the game feel artificial or realistic? Maybe it should be even more real than real, as in the detailed sci-fi sets of Halo and Destiny? These are things that good game developers ask and answer in the form of visual storytelling.

As far as the use of sound, the most stylized aspect of it is non-diegetic sound effects and the use of theme music. For non-diegetic sounds, I mean sounds that are meant to alert the player to something, but that are not part of the world of the game: the sound in the Metal Gear games that happens when someone notices Snake sneaking around, the beeping in Zelda games, and so on. Though such sounds function as alerts to the players, but I wouldn’t necessarily call them part of storytelling.

Music, on the other hand, absolutely serves the story. Games use recurring musical themes for specific characters and situations. Ace Attorney, for example, uses the “Turnabout Sisters” theme for Mia and Maya, while other themes specify which phase of a trial you're in: cross-examination, a dangerous situation or new revelation, or the final confrontation with the guilty party. Many game series have music that span all games such as the Halo Theme, The Legend of Zelda Theme, and Zelda’s Lullaby. When these play, not only does the player get a sense of the import of whatever’s happening in that particular scene, but also feels connected to something larger, something that spans decades (in the real world) or even centuries (in the story setting). Music like this creates cohesion and immersion, and is a huge part of the emotional impact of games.

Two- and Three-Dimensional Space

While comics use two-dimensional space, in the form of panels and pages, games can use two- or use three-dimensional space. Side-scrollers (those games that feature the characters in profile, moving more or less left and right), top-down games (where the players views all action as if they were seeing it from above) and other such games generally use space either to simply let the character more from one location to another (whether that is from one event to another, to different random encounters or battle scenes, or even just the beginning of the level to its end), or as a way to introduce puzzles.

While oftentimes games include puzzles to make the games more challenging, certain games incorporate them into the story. Ghost Trick’s gameplay consists of building Rube Goldberg machines in order to save people from being killed, but that's because the main character is a ghost who can only possess and manipulate objects. A three-dimensional version of this is Portal, where the premise of the game is that you find yourself in a rather shady laboratory that is running tests using a gun that can shoot portals, allowing you to teleport around the test chambers. The gameplay involves strategy and puzzle-solving skills, and the in-game setting literally involves the same thing (incidentally, while Portal would be a fun puzzle game on it’s own, the audio from GlaDos, the AI who runs the test, is what makes that game an unforgettable classic!). While comics require that the artist use space to tell their story, games like Ghost Trick and Portal require the player to utilize and interact with the space in order to become a part of the world and advance the plot.

Since we’re talking about three-dimensional games, which obviously include puzzles and getting from point A to B, I’ll mention that games have the addition of a sense of distance. That is, you might be able to see a volcano on the horizon, or know on your map where the next town lies, but you actually have to take the time to journey there. Thus, many a game includes a quest element. You, the player, take a journey and spend time in the space—the world—of the game. Not only do many games require you to complete a quest, many allow you to go off the beaten path, in the form of side quests, exploration, and choices.

But this post is getting long, and I have a lot to say regarding how that exploration and choice factors into what makes games truly unique. For now, I think I have shown that video games are worthwhile. Next time, dear readers—and gamers—I’ll share more thoughts on video games and why they are a totally unique form of storytelling.

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