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bookishlilcorner · 2 years

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Agents of Night and Starlight - Chapter 2

A Nessian, Gwynriel and Elucien centric fanfic (with Emorie on the side).

Modern Fantasy!AU, Fantasy action, Fluff, Angst, Comedy.

TW(s): mentions of stalking, dating violence, sexual violence and abuse. Violence, blood and swearing.

Word Count: 6.2k

Tag list: @airam101 @faeriebambula @acloudyskyy @strawberry-lemondade (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the tag list.)

I planned to get this out last week, but I failed hahaha. Anyways, here is chapter two. I hope you enjoy it :)

Sypnosis: In another universe where ACOTAR is set in a modern fantasy world, the Valkyries are an independent group of secret agents composed of Agent Silver, Agent Ghost, Agent Nymph and Agent Ivy walking the streets of Velaris with one goal in mind: to take down the biggest criminals corrupting the City of Starlight. One night, a particularly dark mission causes them to encounter four members of a unit called the IC working under the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court. Despite being at each other’s throats, the rulers of Night decide to make them work together in order to stop a death lord from raising an army of the undead and launching what could become the bloodiest war in Prythian history. With trainings, missions, secrets revealed, friendships and love at the rendez-vous, they will have to work hard to bring down the death lord threatening the fragile peace in Prythian, that is if they don’t tear each other apart first.

SERIES: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

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A sigh left Lucien’s lips as he crossed one leg on the other, snapping his fingers. At each snap, a small flame flickered less than an inch above his thumb for a brief second before disappearing and reappearing at the next snap. He gazed at his friendly coworkers sitting around the round table discussing the previous night’s meeting with a grim expression displayed onto their faces. On his right, Mor was toying with a parchment paper with a dark burgundy seal clinging at the end. It was the same one she found in the house on the hill’s basement, minutes before it ended up in flames and embers.

Memories of that night cloaked his mind. The mission ended up a dead end with Azriel injured. He glanced at the Illyrian sitting next to Cassian, at the white bandage wrapped around his shoulder under his black tank top loosely. Fortunately, the burn was not too severe and paired with the Fae’s fast healing, it should be okay and completely gone by the end of the week.

Deep in his thoughts, he recalled yesterday’s meeting with their bosses.

“Lucien, why do you think it was a false report? It could’ve possibly be that our enemy got his hands on the object first.” The tall black haired man asked, his deep hypnotic voice echoed in the room, his violet eyes shrouded with curiosity.

Sitting beside Cassian, Lucien merely stood up and marched in front of the table of monitors, keyboards and other technologically advanced equipment. His hacking workplace. He typed on his keyboard in a quick, fast pace before swiftly tracing an invisible line between the monitor and the center of the round table. Lights turned off in the headquarters instantly, quickly followed by flashes of green, blue and pink lights as a holographic image emerged from thin air.

Lucien spread out his thumb and index fingers in an attempt to expand the hologram, which portrayed the house on the hill in both normal and infrared imaging. Swiping his finger in the void like he would on a cellphone screen, more images of different parts of the house showed up one by one.

“Magical objects have different components than usual ones. They are created from natural tangible magic such as pixies’ enchanted woods, unicorns’ silky hairs and many other forms that I don’t think is necessary to name. They usually have heightened luminosity, and in our case, have a stronger, longer lasting heat radiation that can affect its surrounding area days after it’s gone.”

“Your point?” Cassian retorted.

Lucien rolled his eyes. “As you can see in these pictures, there is no magically induced heat radiation remaining anywhere. Not under the floors, in the walls, in the drawers, nowhere. It’s as if it has never been there to begin with.”

“It doesn’t mean anything. The enemies could have found it a long time ago, long enough for the radiation to have subdued.” An enchanting, soft spoken feminine voice said.

He turned to his second boss sitting beside the tall man with violet eyes. Her golden brown hair was held up in an effortless messy ponytail, her curtain bangs cascading softly on her temples as her piercing blue gray eyes stared at him.

Azriel’s voice echoed in the room. “I have been watching the place since we got word of it. No one got in or out. And considering that our enemy got word of its supposed location around the same time, I doubt he got his hands on it.”

However, the doubt was still latched on his face. On everyone’s faces.

“We might not be a hundred percent certain, but it is highly unlikely that they got it.” Lucien added.

“Stop that. It’s getting annoying.” Mor’s captivating voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

She stared at his hand, a flame dancing above as if it was mocking her. Her long blonde hair was put in a high ponytail, the ends resting on top of her emerald turtleneck top, her arms bare.

She wore an irritated look on her face. Lucien’s lips tilted into a smirk, bringing out his handsome features. As if to prove a point, he snapped his long fingers once more, annoying her further. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand with more gentleness than expected, putting it on the table while muttering about what a gigantic asshole he was. He bit his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.

“So, anything new?” Cassian’s voice echoed in the empty room.

He was no longer at Azriel’s side. Instead, he was pacing back and forth in front of them.

“Still an empty piece of paper.” Mor answered, shaking the parchment before placing it on the pristine table in a rough thud. “Maybe I should’ve left it there. I don’t know why I kept it.”

“You said the seal was familiar to you. You might’ve seen it somewhere. Maybe it could be something linked to your family?”

“Probably.” She said tightly.

The bright light in her eyes dimmed, and Cassian cursed himself a fool.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve-”

She shook her head. “No. It’s alright. You brought up a fair point. Azriel, what about that picture?”

The shadowsinger looked at the painting in the parchment paper, staring at the uncanny woman in gold and blue for a few seconds before turning away. He couldn’t stand it. The picture. The woman. Every time he glanced at it, at her, an unmistakable panic surged inside him and he didn’t know why, except that she radiated one of the most corrupted energy he had ever felt.

He turned the paper around, gazing at the words written.

In death reigns no stillness, only torment remains.

“I’m as clueless as you are.” He said, frustrated. “Outside of that dark energy I’m sensing, there’s nothing much. It gives me a headache.”

Lucien tossed a mug to him. “Here. That will help.”

He took a sip of the yellow and white stripped mug, his lips turning up and his eyebrows scrunching down as he swallowed difficultly. “What in the hell is this shit?”

Cassian snickered while the redhead tried to contain himself. “Lavender and lion lilies tea. Oh, and I added ginger and silver tongued snake skin. A delicacy in the Autumn Court.”

“No shit you left.”

A bubble of laugh escaped their lips.

“I’m joking. Cassian put salt in it while I was brewing it. Here is the actual one.” He gave him another mug, pure white. “Lemon and lavender tea. No tricks, except a sprinkle of pixie dust to speed up the relief.”

Tentatively, the shadowsinger took another sip, then another one, and yet another one. When he was finally satisfied with his drink, he put it down and looked at the picture again. Lucien rolled his eyes at him and went back to his snapping fingers and fire.

“Maybe it has to do with demons and hell? The whole death and torment seem to lead to that. It would also explain the dark energy you’re feeling.” Mor tentatively said.

The Illyrian shook his head. “It’s not just dark energy. It’s corrupted, but not in an inherently evil way. It’s as if it was changed.”

A pause resonated before he continued, “All the rage and anger I felt that night had a substantial amount of sadness, grief and guilt behind it. An array of emotions with no beginning and no ending. Just a bottomless sea of complexity.”

“What else did you feel?” Lucien asked.

“Not feel – heard. I heard screaming and roaring, cracking flames. They sounded like they were dying.”

Silence once again reigned in the room. Heavy and somber.

Cassian was the first to break it. “This medium spiritual shit you’ve got has to be one of the weirdest things I’ve ever encountered. Remind me why we’re friends again?”

“You love weird shit.”

The taller Illyrian scoffed. “And that alone granted me access to the scariest stuffs I’ve ever seen.”

“Scarier than Bryaxis?” Mor teased.

He gave her an incredulous look. “Now, don’t be ridiculous.”

She laughed in response. Lucien’s lips tilted upside positively at their exchange.

“Maybe the words have to do with dying. You did hear sounds of people dying. Perhaps these souls are condemned to that house in torment, unable to rest in peace.” Cassian said, staring down at the paper Azriel was holding.

“You’re right. It does make sense.” Azriel added.

Lucien shook his head. “No, hold on. You heard screaming and fire blasting, but it doesn’t explain how those ancient paintings survived the fire.”

They hummed at his words, nodding their heads as silence yet again echoed painfully. Bored from the lack of conversation, Cassian stepped out into the vast opposite side of the room behind the monitors and lowered himself into a plank position, starting a round of push ups.

Mor gazed into the blank parchment paper in her hand, growing significantly frustrated the longer she tried to figure it out. To no avail. Sighing loudly, she pushed it angrily to Lucien’s way, rubbing her temples. “This paper is getting on my fucking nerves. There’s nothing on it, and yet I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it. My powers are useless for this.”

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“You’ve got some spell breaking magic. Maybe there’s an enchantment that is hiding something on it. If that is the case, only you could break it.”

He pushed it back to her. “I checked it yesterday. There’s no trace of an enchantment. No scent, no pull, nothing.”

“And your eye didn’t catch anything?”

He felt self-conscious under the curious eyes of the woman in front of him watching his other eye. The brutal scars around the socket seemingly itched under the sudden attention. Brown to metal gold. A slight gleam of light ignited from within the gold. Memories threatened to rise from the depths of his mind, therefore he closed his eyes, mentally pushing them back down.

“No.” He said nonchalantly as if nothing happened.

She groaned, hitting her forehead on the wood as she laid down on the clean beige table. Lucien resumed his usual fire trick. Each snapping sound and fire cracking in the void increased the frustration inside the blonde High Fae like the incessant sound of a bee passing by.

Turning her head to face Lucien, paper in hand, she exclaimed, “Cauldron, for fuck’s sake, Lucien! Stop- Oh what the...”

The timber of her voice increased, catching the attention of the half-sleeping short haired Illyrian and Cassian, who stopped his workout to march back to the round table. Lucien’s eyes widened, his golden metal eye lighting up in a faint, golden white hue as he took in the phenomenon happening before his eyes.

A slow, but consistent emergence of ink appeared, forming dots, lines and drawings on the paper. Roads appeared, followed by buildings, street names, and lanterns. Black ink spread out in the once blank parchment under the glowing amber hue of Lucien’s fire, revealing a map.

“It’s your flame.” Azriel’s deep voice echoed. He sounded closer, and indeed he was. The shadowsinger was standing right next to the redhead. “It looks like it’s written from heat activated ink.”

Mor made a sound of realization. “That’s why our powers didn’t work. We couldn’t smell any magic or enchantment because it was never enchanted in the first place. It’s invisible ink from the human lands. Why didn’t we think of that?”

They inspected the paper, Lucien’s flame dancing above them. The map showed a certain area of Velaris. A neighborhood they were all accustomed to. An X mark emerged on top of a particular building..

A well known building.

“That’s the Heavenly.” Mor said. “That’s the club I own.”

Above the X, an inscription appeared, displaying the following words.

La luciole de l’au delà.

Cassian repeated the words, voice thick from attempting to pronounce the foreign words. “It sounds like a language from the continent. It means the firefly of beyond.”

Three shocked faces swiftly turned at him.

“What? I actually do the work for my job. You should do the same, you lazy asses.”

“Luciole de l’au delà. That’s the word I came across when I was researching about the magical orb. It seems to be its name. I shouldn’t have ignored it. The meaning’s not quite firefly of beyond, more like firefly of the afterlife.” Lucien observed.

Cassian shrugged. “Both means the same thing. Beyond is just a poetic way of saying afterlife.”

“That’s where the orb is located.” Mor exclaimed. “It was never supposed to be in the house on the hill, just the paper for its location.”

Her mood grew better as the realization sunk in. They didn’t get false reports, not really. It just wasn’t what they thought it was. Relief dawned upon them as they sighed, content that their mission was not a failure. The enemy didn’t get their hands on the object. Not yet at least.

More words revealed themselves on the paper.

May 14th, 11:15 PM.

“Fuck.” Azriel swore, rubbing his hand on his well kept, trimmed beard in thoughts. “It’s his. He surely sent someone to leave it in the house for his allies in town to retrieve it. Look, it’s the seal of the never-ending lake. His seal. It’s an old one. One he stopped using years ago, but it’s his nevertheless.”

He pointed at the burgundy wax at the end of the paper. And realization hit them in full force.

“That’s probably why it felt familiar yet couldn’t remember.” Mor said. “But why didn’t they just take it?”

“We probably got to it first.”

They turned their heads back to the map, staring into the ink in thought. Lucien’s flame soon dimmed out, and the black ink began fading slowly until the parchment was once again blank.

“They probably got tipped off that we were going there. That would explain the bomb.”

Lucien added to the shadowsinger’s words, “Since he suspected we’d get there and find the map, he probably used another way to get the message across. They are planning to infiltrate your club on that specific date. They’re most likely gathering their forces as we speak.”

Cassian smirked, crossing his muscular arms on his chest. “So we stop them.”

The gleam in his eyes was a telltale sign that he had a great idea.

“What’s the plan?” Mor asked.

They all looked at Cassian. The strategist. The one who knew the art of war like an old friend. He began sharing what was on his mind, and they discussed the best strategy for the upcoming night.

They had no intentions of letting the magical relic fall into his evil hands.

May 14th was in three days, and they strived for nothing less than triumph.

The orb was theirs.

“So what have I missed?”

Gwyn, Emerie and Elain turned around to see Nesta closing the glass door behind her as she made her entry in the Twilight Zone.

The place was grandiose, yet still kept a touch of coziness. A vast bookshelf covered the entirety of the windowless right wall, its shelves filled with books of various sizes and genres. The warm brown chairs had soft cushions for comfort and surrounded rectangular tables of the same color. Small bouquets of white gardenias and pink carnations hanged from the walls and a delicious aroma of coffee and sweets filled the whole space. The left wall, on the other hand, had glass windows peering into the streets of Velaris with diverse flowers displayed on the window boxes outside. The back was undeniably the register and work area as evidenced by the coffee machines, golden sink and the display refrigerator containing sandwiches, bottled drinks and desserts. A grand chandelier stood in the middle of the café under the never ending ceiling. An enchantment was casted to make it look like the night sky, as if staring up to the massive universe. Faerie lights gleamed in cerulean, emerald, violet and pink like stars. The rays of the sun setting passed through the glass windows, transforming the whole café into the perfect crossroad of day and night.

It was all owned by Emerie and Gwyn. They came up with the idea to open an enchanted library café a few years back and since then, received a wonderful success.

They were sitting on a table near the register. Elain was on her rose gold laptop, her eyebrows scrunched in concentration with messy, curled hairs framing her beautiful face. Her long brown hair styled in a loose side braid rested on her silk muted yellow blouse. Gwyn and Emerie had their hair in ponytails and a navy blue apron with the words Twilight Zone café in gold.

A wide smile brightened the redhead’s face as she said warmly, “Oh, hey Nesta. We’ve just discovered something in Silas’s files. Come take a sit.” She patted the empty seat next to her.

Nesta crossed the room to the golden brown chair, sitting down gracefully and crossing her jeans cladded long legs. She had her hair in her usual bun, strands of hair framing her face. She casted a quick glance at Elain and Emerie seated in front of her before asking, “Why did you enchant the ceiling so early? Night has not yet fallen.”

Emerie shrugged her shoulders, turning her attention away from the screen, “It’s about to anyways. Plus, we wanted a nice atmosphere while we were discussing.”

“No clients?”

“We had some ten minutes ago. It’s not the rush hour anyways.” Gwyn retorted, stretching her long arms, “Anyways, look what Elain found.”

She nodded at Elain, who turned her laptop towards her sister. The screen showed a digital map of a neighborhood in Velaris. Names were written on top of buildings, national parks and open air spaces. Nesta opened her mouth in an attempt to say something when she noticed one particular block depicted differently than others. It was glowing slightly. A big red X marked the Heavenly night club. It was quite reputed for being the best one in town. The words May 14th, 11:15 PM and La luciole de l’au delà were written as well.

“What does that mean?” Nesta asked.

Her sister shrugged her shoulders, turning her device back to her and typing quickly on her keyboard, “It translates to firefly of beyond in a foreign language I can’t pronounce. I’m unsure of what it could be.”

Gwyn played with her bracelet, “It’s certainly not just a firefly. It wouldn’t make sense. It probably has a deeper, figurative meaning.”

“I’m searching through the data bases. Something should come up.”

“It’s the Heavenly. It’s the best night club in the city for various reasons, including being lesser faeries’ favorite. What do you think it means?” Emerie said, arching her perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Gwyn scrunched her eyebrows, wide eyed, and exclaimed, “You mean there’s another machine? Elain and I searched through Silas’ company mainframe three times to make sure there wasn’t another one. The one at the charity event was supposed to be a unique prototype.”

“It is a unique prototype.” Elain says, shaking her head, “But I don’t think it has anything to do with this. Or even Silas. It doesn’t feel right.”

They shared a look, an air of understanding hovering over them in a loud stillness.

“Is it the same feeling as the other night during game night?” Gwyn asked, a faint concern shining in those teal eyes. “Is your power...?”

The brown haired High Fae sighed, “Not... exactly. It does feel like my power, but it’s not like the last time. It just feels like it’s crucial. Deadly important.”

Nesta watched Elain with concern and curiosity, knowing better than to take her sister’s words with a grain of salt, especially when she had this haunting expression in her dark brown eyes. They all did, aware of her uncanny ability. Elain possessed a strange, rare power, one as ancient as the old legends. She had the ability to see events that have not yet happened. Events that will unfold in the future. Humans called it clairvoyance, Faes called it seer. One of the few magical capabilities that delve into the realm of the unseen. No one knew how or why it chooses certain individuals to bear it, but Elain was one of them.

That other night after the mission ended with Elain lying on the floor, game cards falling from her hand. Her eyes clouded in white gray that seemed to move around, churning and twisting and covering her irises. Her power usually comes to her in the form of visions, and if not, then in the form gut feelings that often made her feel nauseous. And that night, her vision showed a house burning down and people burning alive. Therefore, Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie winnowed to the location to save them from that fate, far enough to not be caught.

The visions came without warning and were uncontrollable, but she had learned that she could master some of it through her gut feelings and that she had to learn how to trigger the visions herself if they didn’t come naturally. Elain remembered the first time she had one in front of her friends. She opened up about her power, and she was relieved to find out she was not the only one with strange abilities.

“So,” Emerie cut the reigning silence, “Let’s check through the data bases.”

Elain looked at the beautiful Illyrian smiling at her and nodded.

Suddenly, the bell chimed, alerting them of the entrance of new customers.

Gwyn stood up, raising her hand in the universal stop signal to Emerie, who began to move. “No need. I’ll take care of them this time. You worked the whole day. Stay with Nesta and Elain.”

Her friend and coworker smiled and rested her back on the chair. Gwyn fixed her apron properly and walked behind the counter to greet the arriving clients, “Good evening! Welcome to the Twilight Zone. How can I help you?”

She looked at the two clients, a man and a woman. The woman looked High Fae and was strikingly beautiful. She wore a dark red long sleeved shirt that had a cut above her chest, revealing a slight cleavage and leather pants. Her blonde hair was up in a neat ponytail and her eyes were glancing up at the menu above. She looked like royalty. Noticing Gwyn, a beautiful smile stretched her red lips as she greeted her back before talking to the man beside her. She smiled before turning her attention to the other customer, and she almost lost the ability the breathe.

To say he was handsome was underwhelming. It didn’t do him justice. His beauty was almost painful. He was gorgeous beyond reason. His short black hair fell in silky waves on his head, his hazel eyes like ambers as he stared at the menu in thoughtfulness. He had sharp, angular features. Sharp nose, sharp jawline under his neatly trimmed beard and cold, unflinching eyes. Dressed in all black, he stood tall in the café. He scratched his neck, his skin a beautiful golden brown before reaching in the pockets of his pants to retrieve what seemed to be a wallet. She noticed he had wings, wide and black bat like wings just like Emerie’s. It didn’t take her a second to realize he was an Illyrian.

He looked like he was made of ice and lightning, carved from the earth itself.

“I’ll pay this time.” His voice was deep, almost cold, before looking at Gwyn. He almost stopped moving, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment before walking toward the counter.

Gwyn shook her head, willing her senses to calm down. So what if he was beyond handsome? It’s not like she never saw handsome men before.

However, she knew no man has ever had that big of an impact on her. No man ever made her feel so breathless before, and it almost irritated her.

She could feel her friends’ gazes on them as they approached her. Keeping a smile on her face, she asked, “So what would you like to order?”

“One iced Americano...” He began.

She nodded, tapping his order on her screen. “And what would your lover have?”

Their speechless, distraught expression on their faces almost made her laugh. The woman shook her head, making a swift motion with her hand at his direction, resulting in her friend rolling his eyes half heartedly.

“Oh no, we are not together. Definitely not. And besides, I don’t particularly swing that… way.” Her brown eyes went up and down at her with a smile, a certain expression in her eyes that Gwyn quickly caught onto.

“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend-”

They shook their heads.

“It’s okay,” the Illyrian man said, “You did not offend us.”

Gwyn nodded before looking back down on her tablet, “One Iced Americano and…”

“A strawberry and peach refresher with three pumps of moon lily syrup and lemonade.” He added, “To go.”

She quickly tapped that in and revealed the total amount. He quickly paid with his card before thanking her. She felt a faint blush rising and quickly turned around to prepare their drinks.

Emerie watched the entire exchange with a smirk on her face. She briefly locked eyes with Nesta and Elain, immediately understanding that they all noticed their friend’s blushing at the sight of the Illyrian man. Turning back towards the customers, she stared at the blonde High Fae and sighed.

She was indeed very beautiful. She looked like the dawn rising after dark, and Emerie felt a warm feeling moving inside her like a wave. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip. The High Fae’s warm brown eyes gleamed under the light of the chandelier and her full mouth started moving, her voice captivating and as clear as crystal

“I’ll wait for you by the motorbike.” She said to her friend before turning around.

As she was walking back towards the exit, her eyes caught Emerie staring at her. The Illyrian woman felt a blush creeping up as the blonde haired woman made eye contact with her. Noticing how much she affected her, the customer smirked and winked at her before pushing the glass door open, walking toward a large, matte black motorbike.

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh at her. “Look who‘s blushing now. She tickled your fancy?”

The Illyrian looked at her unamused, “Shut up.”

“And she is into women, according to her obvious statement earlier.” Elain added on, crossing her arms on her chest.

They both gloated at the sight of Emerie looking so flustered and at loss for words. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her thick hair. It was embarrassing enough that they caught her admiring the blonde woman, but it was another, much worse thing to be teased about it.

But then again, she would do it to them in a heartbeat given the chance.

She turned toward the register in time to see Gwyn giving the drinks to the Illyrian, and his fingers lightly brushed against hers. Startled by the sudden contact, she swiftly moved her hands away. The customer apologized, to which she shook her head and said something along the lines of no worries before wishing him a good evening.

The redhead walked back toward the table they were seated and sat down next to Nesta, looking at the two customers discussing in front of their motorbike.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Nesta asked, a teasing smirk on her face. “You can’t seem to take your eyes off him.”

Gwyn swiftly tapped her shoulder, “So what? He’s handsome, that’s all.”

“That’s all? If I were you, I’d give him my number so that we could meet and have some fun time. You know what I mean. He’s almost regal. Tall, dark, almost lethal.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes, cursing the faint blush making her cheeks warm as a deliciously wild image appeared in her mind.

“Shut up.”

“To be fair, Emerie was just as affected as you were by the woman with him.” Elain added on with a smile and knowing glance at the dark beauty beside her.

Emerie sighed, shaking her head. She pointedly ignored her and asked the redhead, “What did they order?”

“An iced Americano and a strawberry peach refresher.”

“He has such basic taste.” Elain rolled her eyes dramatically.

They looked at the customers as they climbed on the motorbike, the man at the front. He paused on putting his helmet, taking a sip of-

“Oh, nevermind what I said.”

“The strawberry and peach refresher was for him?” Nesta exclaimed before laughing. “Okay, I know I shouldn’t laugh, but come on! It’s still funny. The dark beefy bike guy likes his drink pink and fruity.”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip to contain herself from laughing as well. She watched as they drove away before a sound from the laptop resonated.

“Oh, found something.” Elain says, her focus back on the task at hand. “I found an image. It seems like the luciol — firefly whatever — is an ancient pixie relic.” She squinted her eyes at the small paragraph below the spherical orb before adding on, “It is an ancient object made to enhance spiritual rituals, particularly efficient to make a contact with the dead.”

“And Silas, or whoever sent that to him at least, wants that object.” Nesta said with serious expression on her beautiful face, “That can’t be any good.”

“We should go get it.” Elain started before voices interrupted her.

They echoed from the laptop, and Elain opened another page of what seemed like the media. News of Silas’ arrest were spreading on every news outlets.

“— formed a corporation with the intentions of wiping off the lesser faeries’ population in Velaris. An anonymous group found his plan and managed to single handedly stop him. Now, a word from our High Lord and High Lady.”

The rulers of Night appeared, standing next to each other as camera flashes flickered. The High Lord was handsome, no doubts in that, with his short blue black hair neatly styled. His violet eyes expressed anger and disappointment as he spoke. He wore a deep black and navy blue suit that complimented his brown skin. On his side stood the High Lady. She was younger than him and wore a light blue dress with golden brown hair cascading down her waist. She had freckles splattered on her pale cheeks and gorgeous blue gray eyes. Her expression mirrored her husband’s.

She added to her husband’s words, “As well intentioned as they were, vigilante activities are not tolerated legally. However, considering that no major breaches of the law happened, they were heroes that night, saving a third of the population —“

“The High Lady is such a beautiful, respectful leader. Twenty-three years old and yet she successfully adapted to her role as ruler. I’m twenty-seven and yet still live with roommates.” Gwyn exclaimed, crossing her arms on her chest.

Emerie kicked her leg under the table, resulting in Gwyn yelping halfheartedly. As they started a fake argument, they missed the pointed look Nesta and Elain shared, who suddenly went very quiet.

Another news outlet started speaking about the new upcoming Sellyn Drake romance novel. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn discussed passionately about it and how they must pre-order a few copies for their library. Elain, however, didn’t pay any attention to them. She was staring at the window, or more specifically, at the window box full of flowers. A certain one caught her attention, its petals a soft peachy pink and its shape like bells going downwards. A sign underneath read Poisonous to humans. Do not touch.

“Do you like it?” Gwyn asked, “We got it from your shop. Cerridwen came to help us plant it. I forgot its name, it was quite intriguing. It was… uhm… fla — no, it was named f-”

“Foxglove.” The brunette’s voice was calm.

“Ah yes, foxglove. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Elain stayed silent.

Desperate to change the conversation, she said, “We should find that object. I keep having the sensation that terrible things will happen if we don’t intervene.”

“What things?” Her sister asked, stopping her previous argument about romance novels.

An idea came in her mind. It was risky, but could be totally worth it.

“Maybe I can trigger a vision? If I concentrate hard enough.”

They all shared a glance.

“I’m not sure…” Gwyn started.

“Not that we don’t believe in you and your abilities.” Emerie added quickly when she saw her friend furrowing her eyebrows, “We’re just worried you’ll end up like the other night. Or that more damage happens to you.”

Nesta nodded, “Last time, you bit your lip pretty badly and hit your head on the floor.”

“I know,” she started, “but I want to make sure that my gut feeling’s right. It’s nauseating. You can hold me if I start shaking.”

Closing her eyes, she made a mental review of all the things she had learned about triggering visions. The resources were scarce, but she fortunately managed to find some. She took a deep breathe, willing her mind to stay still and void, before focusing solely on the growing sensation in her stomach. She felt hands holding her arms, grounding her in case her body would start convulsing.

Ten minutes passed by and nothing happened. The women all looked at each other. Maybe it didn’t work. Gwyn was about to call it quit when Elain opened her eyes.

They were fully white.

The cloudy white fumes covered her entire irises, twisting and moving around. She stared at the emptiness and her head suddenly tilted up to the ceiling. Fortunately, her body was still, no shaking in sight. They didn’t want to risk calling her name, not in that state, fearing some damage could happen to her brain. Gwyn swiftly enchanted the windows, tinting them deep enough that outsiders can’t see inside the café.

Elain was deep in her vision, but couldn’t see anything else other than darkness. All she could feel was scorching heat. Then, the pure darkness seemed to move, revealing burned trees followed by buildings collapsing. A bright orange moon lighted up the dark reddish sky as buildings crashed down. Confused, she tried to see further, but the vision stayed unchanged, as uncontrollable as tempests. Deep throaty voices sounding like they came from the depths of the earth chanted some hymn in a foreign language. The once burning air soon transformed into a scent so putrid and rotten that she gagged. Horrified, she saw corpses everywhere. Some cut and burned so badly they were indecipherable, others half eaten and horribly dismembered. And in between those rotting corpse, the orb was there, glowing a faint purple hue. All of a sudden, a male face appeared inside. He looked demonic, unreal, and his obsidian eyes stared directly at her.

That was at this moment that she started shaking. Nesta and Emerie, noticing the quick change, immediately held her down, trying to stabilize her as much as they could. Gwyn held her hands, eyes full of worry and concern. She noticed blood coming out of her mouth and started to panic.

“We should get her out of her mind.”

“Are you insane? It could damage her.” Nesta exclaimed.

“What else do you proposed? She’s getting hurt regardless.”

Tears started to fall down her white eyes. Nesta panicked, wrapping her arms around her sister in an attempt to stabilize and comfort her. Emerie held her tighter as well. They had no idea what she could be seeing.They knew there was nothing they could do to help, and this knowledge left them shudder in worry. The next few minutes that passed by felt like hours when she stopped moving all at once.

The white in her eyes had disappeared, revealing her beautiful dark brown eyes again. She raised her hand at her temple, her face twisting in pain before saying, “I have a massive headache. And did I bite my tongue?”

Her voice sounded rough.

Gwyn left to the counter to get her a glass of water. Nesta stayed by her side, moving strands of hair stuck on her sweaty forehead. “Are you alright, Elain? Are you hurt?”

“Outside of a headache and swelling tongue? Yeah, I’m fine.”

She quickly downed the water the nymph gave her, thanking her friend.

“What did you see?” Emerie asked tentatively.

Elain shivered as the memory of the vision flashed in her mind, but willed herself to stay steady. “A burning city. Dismembered rotting corpses. And the orb was there on the ground, through it stared — I don’t know what he was —but his obsidian eyes stared at me. Then, a trail of images moved quickly, and I saw masked men take the orb and give it to him, until all of a sudden I saw…”

The girls waited patiently for her to finish. Their eyes, full of concern and curiosity, were focused on her.

She swallowed, wiping her tears. “An army of the undead. The orb can bring back to life a whole army from the other world, and if it falls under his hands, an apocalypse will follow. No one will survive.”

She added, “We have to stop this. We have to get the orb before they do. Whoever they are, they are with him. They’re planning to give it to him.“

“And Silas certainly worked for him. That would explain why he has the map.” Emerie said.

Elain nodded, taking deep breaths.

Nesta stood up. “Then we know what to do. Let’s get the orb before them.”

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ghostgirl19posts · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump alternate prompt: Gunpoint

This was meant to be done yesterday. But as usual, I’m late again xD Hope you enjoy anyway!

Universe: Breath of the Wild, Modern AU

Pairing: Zelink

Rating: T, warnings for drinking, guns, and implied attempted r*pe.

.....

There are worse jobs to be had than being a bartender for the ritzy Shadow Hamlet club. Sure, the patrons can get a bit unruly into the late hours, high on alcohol and the thumping beat of the music, but it wasn’t all bad. Getting to experiment making drinks, tips galore, and the promise of never having a dull night makes it all worth it, in Zelda’s humble opinion.

Two weeks in and she’s already come to recognize the regulars. There’s Bozai, a shameless but harmless flirt that orders the noble pursuit and tips her extremely well.

She has a sneaking suspicion that he harbors a foot fetish, based on his not-so-subtle leering of her feet while her back is turned to make his drinks. But as long as he doesn’t start begging for feet pictures, she’ll gladly pocket his rupees.

Then there’s Cado, who comes to the club mainly to drink his sorrows away brought on by his divorce, but once he gets enough liquor in him, he’ll talk her ear off (or any patron unlucky to be his victim for the night) about his hoard of cuccos.

Zelda isn’t sure if it’s legal to keep cuccos in the city, but figures that if his care reflects on his outspoken love for them, it’d do more harm than good to have the cuccos taken away from him.

There’s also Bolson, the flamboyant and fabulous construction worker that always requests her to make a new, fancy concoction he found online that week. Thankfully, he keeps a picture of the recipe on his phone and lets her check it repeatedly to make sure she gets the drink right. It’s fun to see a new surprise each Friday night, and the silver rupee he gives her for her trouble isn’t so bad either.

And of course, she can’t forget about the hot guy with blue eyes like a nightshade flower staring at her—

Wait.

Zelda does a double-take, cleaning rag frozen on the counter.

She doesn’t know this one. This man isn’t a regular, nor anyone she’s seen before. She knows she wouldn’t be able to forget him if she had. No man that good-looking is forgettable.

He’s standing a few feet away from the bar counter, body swiveled towards the stairs, yet his head is turned to lock eyes with her. Two loose tendrils of burnished gold hair frame his impressive jawline, while tufts of it spill onto his forehead, though not long enough to hinder his vision.

Unbidden, her gaze travels lower, over the crisp folds of his black suit jacket to the fitted edges of the paired vest beneath. His tie is the only source of color on him: a lovely sky blue that matches the luminosity of his eyes.

Speaking of, she snaps her eyes back up to his, and subsequently feels her face flush with a rush of heat as she notices the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

And then he’s turning, not paying any mind to the latest hit blaring out of the speakers, nor does he stop for a drink. He walks up the stairs, to the forbidden VIP section. Zelda hasn’t been granted permission to serve up there yet; perhaps in a month or two when she gains more experience.

Or, evidently, about 15 minutes later.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man!”

Zelda pauses in pouring a cocktail upon hearing the dulcet tones of her boss’s anxiety surfacing again. She quickly hands off the glass to the customer and puts the owed rupees in the register before giving her attention to a nervously sweaty, finger-wringing, Yunobo.

“What’s wrong, boss?” she quips, hoping that teasing him will relieve some of the tension obviously plaguing him. But in the face of her cheerful attitude, he grows more distressed, if anything.

“Everything, everything’s wrong!” he wails, causing some of the customers to questioningly furrow their eyebrows.

Zelda ushers him to the empty side of the bar and prompts him to speak lower with a whisper of her own.

“What’s wrong, Mr. Goro? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“It is bad!” he protests loudly, completely disregarding her cue to whisper. The poor man looks like he’s about to cry. “I must’ve something wrong, because he wants you to wait on him!”

Zelda blinks, not understanding the turn this conversation took.

“Who’s he? Why does he want me to wait on him? And why is that bad?”

“He is the owner, Link Wild!” he hisses, finally bringing his voice down if only to say that name. “And I don’t know why! I went up there as usual to serve him, but he ordered that you serve him for the night instead. And when I tried to tell him that you don’t have enough experience since you’ve only been here two weeks, he insisted you be sent up.”

And warned me not to make him repeat himself a third time, he recalls with a violent shudder.

Zelda is lost for words. Is Link Wild the same man she just got done ogling for a solid minute before he went up to the VIP section? Did she just eye-fuck her boss’s boss?

She swallows. No wonder he wants to see her so badly; he undoubtedly feels insulted by the brazen way she looked at him and wants to berate her for it. Likely fire her as well.

Damn. That’s the last time she looks at a hot stranger for longer than two seconds.

Still, she musters a wobbly smile and places her hands on his trembling shoulders for comfort.

“It’s alright. I’ll go up there and just do my job. What’s the worst that could happen?” Besides being fired?

Her words do little to satisfy him.

“A lot can happen,” he bemoans. “You could mess up his drink, or spill it on him, or trip, or-!”

“Mr. Goro!” she interrupts, and says with an exhale, “Relax. I’m sure I’ll be just fine. I’ll be more careful serving him. Besides, he already knows I haven’t been here long, so he shouldn’t be expecting perfection. Everything will be fine.”

And, as it turned out, it was fine. Perfectly fine, even. She didn’t mess up his drink, spill it on him, or even trip. Best of all, he didn’t fire her! He didn’t even give her a ‘stern warning’ for her lack of professionalism in her staring.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t talk to her at all save for his requests for a simple scotch on the rocks. Always scotch on the rocks. He never drinks anything else, which is honestly kind of a letdown. She was expecting that an intimidating owner of his caliber would have a complicated drink that would’ve scared her almost as much as Yunobo is scared of him.

He’ll look up at her occasionally from some paperwork when she sets his drink down on the table, though he never offers a smile or a hint of what emotion she sees burning in his eyes.

During the nights in which he visits the club—which has become every weekend now—to save herself from dying of boredom, she keeps herself occupied by reorganizing the bottles from the private bar and cleaning the already spotless counter, in between making discreet glances in his direction.

Not longer than two seconds, though. Never longer than that. She doesn’t want to risk getting caught again.

But overall, it’s not a bad change in station. For the most part, he’s like any other customer. Except he always dresses in a suit, and sits in the VIP section, and has money to spare if the gold rupee he always tips her with at the end of a night says something, not to mention he’s handsome as sin…

She really needs to just keep her head down and do her job.

One night, there’s a change in atmosphere she notices right away. For one, by the time she arrives in the VIP section, he’s not alone. At one end of the table sits her boss’s boss, though he’s flanked on both sides by tall, muscular men she wouldn’t want to meet in a back alley at night.

They seem to be locked in a stare down with the trio of strangers facing them. The one that stands out to Zelda the most is a noticeably heavyset man sitting directly opposite to Mr. Wild. He’s older, maybe 40 or so. His long, black hair is tied off at the top of his head in a bun and catches a ray of the dim lighting.

Whereas Mr. Wild’s suit is neatly pressed and tailored to perfection, the older man’s has a few wrinkles and fits looser, almost as if he picked it up off the floor and wore it because he couldn’t be bothered with expending energy on appearances for this supposed meeting.

She wonders if her boss’s boss perceives it as an insult.

None of the six men pay attention to her as she ties on her apron, nor do they spare her a glance when she walks over, notepad in hand, to get drink orders.

Their low murmurs die off once she arrives, bright smile in place despite her nerves.

Because she knows this isn’t a regular table. Something weird is going on, but she has to grin and bear it even if her gut is telling her to run.

“Mr. Wild?” she prompts, pen poised to paper. She already knows what his order will be at this point and is confident she can make it while sleepwalking. Still, it’d be rude not to ask.

“Scotch on the rocks,” he replies without fail, though this time he doesn’t look at her. His flinty stare is unrelenting on the older man in front of him.

She bites her lip and pretends it doesn’t hurt as she writes it down.

Luckily, his friend is in better spirits and beams at her.

“Hey there! Get me a gin and tonic, with a lot of rocks if you don’t mind.”

His jovial attitude releases some of the tension plaguing her shoulders, and her smile is more genuine as she takes his order. It carries on to the man on the other side of Mr. Wild, and though he’s not as cheerful as the first, he’s still polite to her.

Her smile frays at the edges, but stays in place as the two burly men on either side of Older Man place their orders.

It ultimately drops completely when Older Man, who she will now refer to as Old and Creepy, leers at her for the longest time, bringing about a silence that borders on awkward, before finally placing his order.

She may have set his glass down a little harder compared to the others. And may have also taken a little victory in seeing Mr. Wild’s eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare. Of course, she isn’t naïve enough to believe that his displeasure stems from another man unabashedly giving her suggestive looks, but the thought prompts a flutter or two in her belly.

While Zelda wipes down the counter, she can’t help but look at Mr. Wild in between scrubbing. In her defense, it’s not her fault. She’s been doing it for so long that her eyes just automatically seek him out. Not that she blames her eyes for developing a mind of their own; as she said, sinfully handsome.

Unfortunately, it’s one time too many that she ends up locking gazes with Old and Creepy. A corner of his lip turns up in a slimy grin that turns her stomach. The urge to run grows stronger than ever as each stare shifts into something dirtier than the last, but the desire is tempered when she sees that Mr. Wild has noticed Old and Creepy’s drifting attention.

He looks at her, then at Old and Creepy. His menacing glare abruptly turns murderous and his hand clenches around his glass.

Fearing a scene unintentionally caused be her, she races over with bright smile intact and, nearly breathless from the rush to the table, asks if anyone would like refills or something new.

Out of the corner of her eye, she senses a slight movement, and she instinctively zones in on it.

And that’s when her smile and something else drops in her stomach.

There. Poking out of Old and Creepy’s exposed jacket. His hand is reaching for a carton of cigarettes, but it’s not the smokes that frighten her.

It’s the handle of a gun.

Even when his jacket closes, she can’t stop gawking at that spot. A gun, this man has a gun! A real gun, likely loaded with real bullets! Why would he bring a gun in here? Is he planning to shoot her? Mr. Wild? Everyone? He can stand up and end her life in a second if he’s so inclined.

What kind of business meeting is this?!

Someone clears their throat, and without knowing who made the sound, for some reason she whips her head around to Mr. Wild. Something has softened in his eyes, melting the ice into a watery blue like Lake Hylia. If she doesn’t know better, she would say that he looks concerned for her.

But evidently not, as he clears his throat again and roughly orders another round be brought.

Still, lack of concern aside, she has to warn him about the gun. She doesn’t know Old and Creepy’s intentions. Maybe he just carries it around for protection. However, as Mr. Wild is sitting directly across from him, which makes him an easy target, Zelda deems it necessary.

The man in the middle has a gun. Be careful.

She folds and slips her note around the glass, covered by her hand. However, instead of simply setting down his drink, her hand lingers. She locks eyes with Mr. Wild, who’s undoubtedly wondering about her strange behavior. In turn, she silently pleads with him to somehow understand her purpose, using her eyes to speak to him rather than words.

Those intense blues peer down to her very soul. They’re as blank as ever, and as always, Zelda can never guess the thoughts and secrets swirling behind them. For a moment, she fears that her meaning will be lost. She’ll be forced to unhand the drink and therefore the note. It’ll fall to the table, and what if Old and Creepy steals it and finds its contents insulting to his character and he-

But then she feels it. Warm, calloused fingers curling around her own.

His eyebrows slightly furrow as he stares unblinkingly at her. For a moment she wonders if he got her cue, but is reassured when his fingers slightly tighten around hers as an undeniable sort of signal.

Relieved, she slowly releases the glass, and Mr. Wild’s hand glides over her own to cover the note. Without a beat she serves the other drinks, all while pointedly ignoring Old and Creepy’s suspicious look on her. To continue the act that nothing is amiss, she sweetly smiles at him even though she wants to pour his drink over his head.

Afterward, as Zelda washes the used glasses, she surreptitiously glances over to see Mr. Wild’s reaction to her note.

But instead of reading it as she had been inclined to believe he’d do, she’s appalled and nearly drops the glass in her shock when he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigarette and lighter, apparently not bothering with her note of warning at all in favor of fulfilling his nicotine fix.

He smokes. Welp, not only does her attraction for him plummet, but a part of her that respected him dies with it.

Meanwhile, oblivious to her disgust, he puts the cigarette between his teeth. He then sets the lighter up in front of it, then uses his other hand—the one that took the glass from her—to cup it around the expected flame.

However, after a few, quick flicks in rapid succession, she doesn’t see the subsequent smoke pouring from his mouth. Curious, she leans over to see what the problem is. Because it’s a little odd that a wealthy smoker would ever allow himself to have an empty lighter.

Old and Creepy offers a light from his own, but Mr. Wild lifts a hand to refuse and ends up forgoing the effort altogether, putting away the cigarette and lighter back in his jacket pocket.

But, she muses with a secretive grin, not before she caught a glimpse of the white slip of paper held in the cusp of his hand.

Putting on a ruse of lighting a cigarette just to read her note…how clever.

Needless to say, her disgust with him ultimately doesn’t last long.

…

Two hours later and with 600 rupees in hand (he left her two gold ones this time), Zelda bids a good night to Yunobo who is closing up the main bar. The club is silent, a stark contrast to its usual noise of people laughing and dancing to the pounding music.

Purse in hand, she leaves the club while looking forward to a peaceful night in her apartment, eating a delicious and nutritious meal of instant noodles and falling asleep on the couch in her apartment.

Alas, it isn’t meant to be. For she doesn’t predict she’ll be leaving this alley she’s trapped in anytime soon. Well, not without a bullet in her, courtesy of Old and Creepy grabbing her and holding her at gunpoint.

What is he even doing here, she asks herself angrily as the barrel prods her cheek, indicating her to move her head up and to the side, exposing the vulnerable part of her neck to his sickeningly greedy gaze.

“You must be really special to be Link’s personal waitress,” he whispers suggestively, acrid breath washing over her and nearly making her gag.

Smoke and alcohol. A gross combination, in her humble opinion.

“Heh,” he chuckles, “You should’ve seen how pissed he was when all I doing was looking at you. Looked like he wanted to tear my head off, just for admiring you. Must be a reason he’s so possessive…”

She recalls Mr. Wild’s mentioned glare and tries her best to replicate it, despite her panicked heartbeat roaring in her ears.

Just one little flick of his finger, and she’s dead…

To her dismay, he merely chuckles some more at her pathetic imitation of Mr. Wild. The gun presses harder into the soft, yielding flesh of her cheek, and she drops the act in the face of her miserable failure to intimidate him.

“It’s not fair that he expects to keep you for himself. A girl as pretty as you should be shared. And I can think of no one better than me to borrow you, as his business partner.”

Everything happens at once.

His hand grabs at her blouse.

Zelda opens her mouth to scream and makes to rip herself free, even after her many repeated (and failed) attempts.

The bang of gunfire.

The realization that she’s alive.

A masculine, anguished scream.

And a gun clattering uselessly to the pavement.

Then the clack, clack from a slow, drawn out series of ominous footsteps echoing down the alley. A figure shrouded in shadow appears, hand holding their gun still raised threateningly, ready and able to shoot again.

As Zelda’s widened eyes adjust, her mouth drops open.

There, in all his suited glory, is her boss’s boss.

Of course, since he’s not ordering a scotch on the rocks, he isn’t looking at her. Instead, in a rare show of emotion, his eyes are crackling with pure, unadulterated fury as he scowls at Old and Creepy, who is currently on the ground trying to nurse a bloody hand through his whimpers and tears.

Mr. Wild doesn’t give him a chance to explain himself before he’s aiming the gun directly at his forehead.

“Sorry, Mr. Kohga. I’m afraid we won’t be able to make that deal, after all.”

#febuwhump #zelink #zelink fanfiction #ghostgirl19 writing

63 notes · View notes

the-gunslock · 4 years

Text

Amanda 1 - Forge

Alright, you all ain’t getting rid of me just yet... I still got some stories in store I want the world to see. This one is not about an anxious Warlock who likes Clint Eastwood... but rather, her partner in crime, our beloved, rough and tough Shipwright.

Amanda and Hiver went sightseeing after speaking to Petra in the Dreaming City. Even if she had another life to uncover, the human woman did her best efforts to reassure the Warlock that she is a wonderful person, and that it changed nothing of who she was now, and what she had done for the City and for her. After making sure her spirits were lifted, they part ways.

The shipwright sits at one of the safer rocks, away from the amount of enemies that plagued the lands around, whipping out her notebook. An idea rushed into her mind-- she couldn’t let it escape. Her lover’s words echoed in her ears.

“If someday I don’t come back, I want you two to take care of each other.”

The first piece was a reminder for Hiver that she belonged in the City. That she was a Stormcaller, that she was human first and foremost. That...

That she was unique. That she was Amanda’s safe space.

While she blushed and got entranced in thought, Hiver’s croquis and the information of the piece Amanda idealized were done. A duster, just like those in the pre-Golden Age western movies, they loved so much. But it had some add-ons that she thought Hiver was going to like.

Baby just designed her first Exotic!

She started sketching another one. A dirty little secret, she thought, grinning, as her pencil gave shape to the second humanoid figure on the paper.

Giving the finishing touches on the rough shape, making a mental note to finish it later, she puts her notebook away, looking at the horizon and sighing. Then she pulls her tablet, transmats into her jumpship, and starts typing a text message for when she arrived.

FROM: A. Holliday, Chief Shipwright

TO: Victor Crux; Feizel Lomar;

SUBJECT: Armor price estimation request.

The Titan’s fist wheezed near her face, so close that some of her burnt blonde hair strands were blown to the side from the gust of air it created. She manages to crouch under a second blow and launch a fist straight into the mighty man’s face, hitting him straight on the cheek.

“Well done, Holliday.” He complements. “You are learning fast.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She replies, wiping sweat off her face. “Can we take a break?”

He nods and they both sit in one of the gym’s benches, away from the mat they previously sparred on.

Commander Zavala was surprised, but pleased when his Ghost relayed Amanda’s message to him. It wasn’t one of her usual messages talking about parts for jumpships, budgeting or days off to spend with her girlfriend.

Rather, she asked for ‘sparring lessons’.

While he didn’t understand the meaning of such a sudden idea, he gladly agreed to help her. So, they set a schedule and place in one of the many training halls used to get Guardians to shape, or just when they want to show off.

Still didn’t explain why she decided to trade punches with one of the most notorious Titans in the history of the City. So, like his fighting style, he decided to be upfront about it. He looked at his protégé as she wiped her collarbone and neck with a towel.

“Holliday?”

“Sir?”

“Why did you ask for my assistance, so suddenly?” His stone-set expression betrayed some genuine curiosity. “Can you not count on Hiver to protect you?”

“That’s exactly why.”

“Hm.”

He took a swig from a water bottle, waiting for her to elaborate.

“Sure, she’s powerful, bein’ a Guardian and all, bein’ all ‘bout gunplay and Arc Light,” She makes exaggerated motions with her hands as she talks, specially finger guns. “But… we’re intelligent. And in that, I realized there may come a time where I can’t afford to be ‘protected’, or ‘saved’.”

Zavala listened intently, his memory calling back to those Lightless Guardians who died their final deaths during the Red War. Those he couldn’t save, even if he wanted to. And thus, he did not enjoy what was coming.

“If it does come, I want to be able to fight with her. Whether that means using mom’s shotty again, or killing stuff with one punch like you do. Or, even better… shielding my friends so no one would have to die.”

“Amanda.”

She knew exactly what came next. Amanda has had one lifetime. Zavala has had dozens, and in these dozens he had both found good things — and had a lot taken away from him. The prospect of losing his quasi-daughter to the Darkness’ brutal crusade weighed heavily on his mind, but he did his best to not let it show.

Didn’t work.

“I know, Zavala.”

She remembers, clear as sunrise, the day that the Red Legion laid siege to the City, and she had to fly through the biggest war she had ever witnessed, abandoning her home and its citizens to take Zavala to Titan.

Amanda’s tablet flickers its screen on. Crux/Lomar had just responded to her mail about her project. She had to remember to pay them later.

Her pride never recovered from abandoning everything she loved to save his and her own skin. So, next time that happens — if there ever is one — she wants to go out with a bang. In her own terms, beside the woman she loved, wielding the gun that saved her childhood, making her fellow Citizens and Guardians proud that someone else had joined the fight.

She wonders where Hiver was during that time.

Zavala snaps out of his own memories and notices her starting to get lost in thought, but they have a silent understanding. He smiles, rubbing a comforting, trusting hand on her back, and speaks his mind.

“Perhaps you’d make an excellent Guardian, Amanda.”

She smiles back.

“Let’s go another?” The shipwright proposes, cracking her hand bones and fantasizing about the next things she would do.

It is a dangerous path, but she treads it gladly.

Clearing her mind, they get into position as she raises her fists once more.

"PUT YOUR SOUL INTO IT, GUARDIAN!"

She was no Guardian, and was pretty unsure of how much soul she had left to put into it.

Not like that was going to stop the Titan's motivational booming anyway. Unlike Zavala, Shaxx personally made sure that training always got rougher, to the point one could barely discern it from real action.

Today, he had Amanda do rope climbing and swinging.

With weights on her torso, hands and feet.

She was doing well for the first routines, but made a slip on the seventh set, causing her to fall spectacularly on the soft foamy pads below. While recovering from the effort, the Shipwright did not expect to see Shaxx's hand hovering above her, offering help to rise up again.

"Thought you were all for bein' rough." She says as she grunts, making the heinous effort to get up, with his help.

"I am." He nods behind his helmet. "When needed. Being rough on the recruits does not mean I can't be generous to those in need." He starts taking the weights off the girl. "Part of being a Guardian, Amanda."

She makes a mental note of this. She had never thought of what makes a Guardian 'a Guardian'. From the stories she heard, the Traveler chose all kinds of people, from all backgrounds and all natures.

“How am I doing, Shaxx?” She asked, panting. He looked at her figure, her arms and trapezoids toned by years of mechanic work and her recent throwdowns with him and Zavala. But her most intriguing characteristics were her eyes, young but fierce, lit up a jeweled green with a newfound spark.

“You’d look much better with a sword.” He says, chuckling at his own joke. Amanda was bemused, but smiled to humor him anyway.

“Honestly? Let me just say that the Crucible would be a lot more interesting if those new Lights had half the force of will that you do.” He switches his tone to be gentler. It’s the way he has of conveying his honesty behind his helmet and many years of discipline. “We could have used someone like you in the City’s old battles, Amanda.”

“Thank ya.”

“However,” he shifts his once-positive speech into a firmer one. “I am sure Zavala has told you that, but remember. You have ONE life. Pick your battles. And when you do...” He pats her on the back. “Make sure you win, will you?”

She chuckles. “Of course.”

“Good.” He says, shifting to his usual ‘fists-in-waist’ posture. “That will be all for today. Those Crucible matches won’t oversee themselves.”

Amanda nods at him and picks up her bag with the training gear she’s been hoarding over the last weeks, ready to walk out and back home. Suddenly, an idea hits her. “Shaxx.”

“What is it?”

“Mind if I take you up on that sword offer?”

He lets out a booming laughter, proud to possibly have a disciple to pass his craftsmanship and tactics to. “Absolutely! Come by whenever!”

She gives him a thumbs-up and leaves the arena. On the way home, she checks her tablet and transfers the Glimmer to Crux/Lomar, eager for Hiver’s gift to be completed. She still needs to work on her “secret-project-she-doesn’t-have-a-name-for-yet” as well. While she enters Luminosity Heights, she ponders for a while, and opens up a new window on her tablet, patching through to “NS:L723”.

“I yearn for the day she’ll notice no one uses these numbers.”

Soon a streak of green appears on her screen, and her human companion turns to face her after talking to her Ghost. Apparently she is piloting her jumpship at the moment.

“Amanda? Wassup, what can I do ya for?”

“Hey Luna. Gotta little job for ya, if you’re interested. Just don’t tell Hiver yet.”

The Hunter looks to Frost, concerned but clearly interested in what Amanda had to say.

“I’m listening.”

#destiny 2 #destiny fic #destiny oc #oc x canon #amanda holliday #hiver the gunslock #zavala #commander zavala #lord shaxx

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chiseler · 5 years

Text

“A Slot Machine for the Solitaries”: On Joseph Cornell’s Films

In 1936, the artist and romantic urban scavenger Joseph Cornell discovered a warehouse in New Jersey that was selling off old film reels as scrap. Most buyers presumably intended to melt them down to recover the silver nitrate, but Cornell instead recovered and recycled the images. For a pittance he bought a complete print of a 1931 B movie called East of Borneo, starring Rose Hobart, cut it up and reassembled it as what may be the first collage film, Rose Hobart (1936).

In this modest, 19-minute experiment Cornell managed to say more than any number of critics and theorists about the essence of the cinematic experience; about how even bad actors can transfix, and why even tired, shoddy Hollywood programmers contain flickering spells of cinematic power. With a pair of scissors he neatly filleted the movie of its plot, leaving only a hallucinatory sequence of fragments. Rose Hobart sleeps, she wakes, she parts curtains, she enters rooms. Mostly, she gazes off screen—at what, we never know. In a dramatic film, her unchanging, hypnotized expression would surely result in a boring, unconvincing performance. But here, stripped of context, she is enigmatic and mesmerizing. She keeps appearing in different costumes, a masculine tailored safari suit one moment, the next a flimsy white evening gown through which you can see her ribs. Her thin frame, bony face and cropped hair give her an androgynous look; in the blurred and battered print, her luminosity bleeds into the air around her. She is isolated, constantly framed at the center of the screen, like a pinned moth with its translucent wings spread open. She seems to withhold some unknowable secret. Thus, a forgotten actress of mediocre looks and talents becomes a celluloid goddess, embodying that hieratic power of the gazed-upon and gazing woman over the camera and the audience.

Cornell interspersed the close-ups of Hobart with jungle scenes from East of Borneo and also unrelated footage of a solar eclipse. The astronomical event, with its visual echo of a camera lens opening and closing—a slow-motion enactment of the process that creates the illusion of moving pictures—becomes the mysterious heart of the movie, the subject of Hobart’s reveries and silent conversations.

When Cornell screened Rose Hobart at the Museum of Modern Art, projecting the film at a slow speed through a piece of blue glass and accompanying it with repetitive, rhythmic Brazilian music, it was chiefly met with perplexity. One audience member had a violent reaction, however—Salvador Dali erupted in jealous fury, knocking over the projector and hurling insults at Cornell. He announced despairingly that he had dreamed of making just such a film, and though he had never spoken of it, he felt as though Cornell had stolen his idea.

The shy and reserved Cornell was mortified by the incident, and avoided publicly screening his films again, though he put together private soirees for his friends, at which he showed favorite movies and his own experiments. He made other collage films, though none with the sophistication and coherence of Rose Hobart, crudely splicing together old footage of vaudeville performers, children’s parties, ethnographic and travel movies, science films. In his iconic boxes, Cornell assembled astronomical drawings, engravings of ballerinas, scraps of French books, Dutch clay pipes, marbles, painted wooden birds. But here the pieces follow one another in time, rather than forming a single image perceived at once. The sequences are connected in the mind, not in the eye. Time passes and the abraded images slip away, not preserved in the bright eternity of the shadowbox.

A man grips a chair in his teeth, with a girl sitting in it, and climbs a flight of stairs. A seal balances a ball on its nose while perched on a rolling barrel. The ghosts of tightrope dancers, trapeze artists and knife throwers perform their feats. Children waltz in party dresses, clown and bob for apples. Dutch women in clogs hang laundry on lines; young men in felt hats browse the bookstalls along the Seine. Amoebas ooze through the dark, glistening like galaxies; a caterpillar chews through a leaf. These images salvaged from the junk-heap, murky and silent, randomly strung together, whisper of penny arcades and nickelodeons, peepshows and lectures in dingy classrooms. These are the attics of cinema, the bargain basements, and Cornell the committed surrealist revealed rather than disguised the oddness and illegibility of lost and found images.

He kept the same dedication to chance and spontaneity in his original films, collaborations with cameramen (Rudy Burckhardt, Stan Brakhage) who did the actual shooting. Filmed in the streets and parks of New York, the films often follow solitary women as they wander through urban spaces, watching pigeons, studying the stone carvings on fountains, moving through the crowds in a melancholy, enchanted reverie. The women (Cornell cast young actresses and dancers of his acquaintance) are both stand-ins for the artist as urban observer, and embodiments of the kind of unattainable feminine beauty and grace that inspired so much of his art. The films are sentimental about stone angels and autumn leaves, but they also take in city life—shuffling bums, the neon sign of a Horn and Hardart automat, a male dwarf in an overcoat crossing Union Square, a cigarette between his fingers. The camera follows pigeons in their swooping flight, a scrum of little boys roughhousing, dead leaves scudding in circles on the pavement.

Cornell wanted the films to just happen—he disapproved when Rudy Burckhardt edited footage they had shot into a finished film, What Mozart Saw on Mulberry Street, because he thought Burckhardt had made it too tidy, polished and controlled. The Mulberry Street footage, which uses as a touchstone a bust of Mozart in a shop window, is beguiling in any form: a symphony of rain, umbrellas, black and white cats, dark-haired girls chewing gum and holding hands, little boys in plaid coats and caps with earflaps shooting at storefronts with bows and arrows, dolls and mannequins in shop windows, graffiti on scuffed grimy walls. “The city is a vast image machine,” Charles Simic wrote in his book about Cornell, “a slot machine for the solitaries.” Pictures spin and freeze, and the prizes come unexpectedly in silver floods.

by Imogen Sara Smith

#Imogen Sara Smith #The Chiseler #Joseph Cornell #Rose Hobart #Rudy Burkhardt #Stan Brakhage

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garden-ghoul · 5 years

Text

Alone Among the Stars

I am a solitary adventurer, hopping from planet to planet with only myself and my AI pilot and ship's log, DECK, which is recording this for me. Thank you DECK.

Date: 00941 Finally landed on the new planet I picked out. Landed in the middle of a plain and walked around for a while. It's kind of like prairie, except that suddenly I was surprised to find an enormous black pit open up in front of me. Grass grew on the rough igneous rock lining it, but inside it was cool and humid. I didn't stay long. The jagged rock tore up my boots something awful. Good thing I have a second pair.

Date: 00943 Spent all of today and yesterday hiking toward a tower far away on the horizon, nearly obscured by the air between us. I really should have brought more water. But it's incredible, what seems to be a kind of tree or fungus. Around its base a riot of plant life has sprung up. Like it's protecting them. I'll camp out here and then start back tomorrow.

Date: 00982 I was going to check out the planet but I got sidetracked by one of its moons. Clearly someone was once here. Not sure yet if anyone still is, but if there are still people here now why would they leave a place like this to go to ruin? It's obvious it was once a garden city, because the flowers spilling out of the flat places and climbing the buildings are so vivid and beautiful. Everything is rectangular and I think once polished stone. A few of them are even structurally sound; I'm camped out in one right now.

Date: 00983 Wandering around the city again for most of the day. In the afternoon there was a shower, and the most amazing thing happened. I was in what I think was a park at the time, and all the flowers at once sent up these massive puffs of pollen, golden and sparkling into the air like towering clouds. Good thing I never leave my mask home.

Date: 00984 I set my sights on the tallest structure in the city, since I wanted to get a good view of the landscape. It took me a while to notice, but all the buildings are integrated into it in a really interesting way. Most of them really aren't that tall, but one of the bridges over the river is this enormous arching structure. It was a difficult climb. But at the top I found these puffball things, gently tethered to the top and floating around in the wind. I wonder if they seeded here from the sky. I haven't seen anything like them on the ground.

Date: 00987 Decided to leave the city, finally, and flew over to another part of the moon. I landed by a massive lake and had to wait for DECK to process the chemical assays so I could make sure it was safe to go in with a normal dive suit. It was, though, and when I finally made it to the bottom it was a forest of gorgeous waving water plants in brilliant colors. Didn't see any animal life, but maybe I scared them all off with my clumsy swimming.

Date: 01001 This world has heavy clouds, so I couldn't get a read on anything that was on the surface. I was so excited to see what it would be, and it really didn't disappoint! Suddenly I broke through the cloud layer and I could see the whole surface of the planet winking at me in the dim light. Haven't seen any plants yet, but everything is a mosaic of pink and turquoise crystal. I almost felt bad for landing on it, but at least it's tough enough to walk on without breaking.

Date: 01002 I'd been walking around for a while in a wide loop around the ship, and I was resting on top of one of the larger jutting crystals. Nothing was really changed from the last couple of hours I'd spent looking at the crystals, but it finally clicked into place: the geometric nature of the valley I was in, the careful placement of the crystals to amplify each other's light. This place was constructed.

Date: 01003 Found a shaft down into the planet. I don't have the gear to get down it, and even if I did rappelling without a spotter would be really stupid. I sent one of DECK's drones down there, though, and I think it's some kind of... display passageway? The veins of gold haven't been mined out, they've been smoothed and polished so they run like rivers along the shaft. Didn't see the end of it before the drone reached the end of its range and had to come back.

Date: 01024 I hadn't even started the descent to the planet's surface yet--I was waiting for DECK to finish scanning to see where would be interesting to land--when I met my first people in quite a while! They'd sent a satellite up to orbit the planet, so I maneuvered into the same orbit to take a look at it. And there were people inside! Wolfy-looking, with long necks and dextrous many-fingered hands. With a little work I managed to help DECK figure out their image encoding technology and we had a little picture chat. They seemed really excited to see me!

Date: 01026 Learning a little bit of their sign language, although I don't have quite enough fingers to pull it off. It turns out they're up here looking for a ghost ship, which DECK managed to pick out pretty quickly. I accompanied them into synchronous orbit with it and we all went in to explore. I think it was the first manned space mission from this world. No sign of what happened to the cosmonauts. They seemed sad or afraid about that, but it cheered them up to take a lot of pictures with me. I wish I could have taken off my suit, but I don't want to risk exposing them to any germs. I couldn't explain that to them. Not good enough with the language or with pictures.

Date: 01027 Second day of hanging around the ghost ship discussing what to do about it--I think they were trying to figure out what they had fuel to take back with them? But we found something scuttling around in the air recycling system. The wolfy people are great trappers, and they managed to catch it within just a couple hours with improvised nets and such. It was a kind of spore creature, I think? It looked infected somehow, although maybe that's how these things are supposed to look. I'm worried that it might have infected my new friends.

Date: 01029 I stayed with them until the end. They should have kept their damn suits on, but they were so excited... I took plenty of pictures and posted them in the airlock so whoever comes here next will know not to mess with it. I'm... tired. It shouldn't have ended this way. Helping the next cosmonauts just doesn't seem like enough. I couldn't do anything for them except sing to them as they lay dying with those strange sprouts coming up out of their skin. They always liked my singing, especially Wide Rocking Circle. I don't want to land on the planet. I don't want to face whoever sent them up here.

Date: 01045 Hadn't even started looking around yet, really. Was hanging around in the shade of the ship--hot here--watching DECK's drone humming around like a crazy bee. DECK reports that all of the plants here are identical on the cell level. DECK is trying to decode whatever genetics they have. It's weird, because they all look pretty different. All sorts of different forms and colors and smells.

Date: 01046 The people here aren't very friendly. They look kind of planty as well, or at least like they photosynthesize: lots of broad translucent frills in dark blue, and DECK reports that they absorb in the maximum luminosity region of their star. That's interesting, but mostly I had to sprint back to my ship because they were all drifting toward me with a sense of purpose and pointy objects. Maybe they were friendly, but I'd rather not take the chance.

Date: 01047 Today on a different part of the planet. Purposefully picked a part that seems uninhabited, now that we know the kinds of emissions that come from settlements. I've just been taking in this enormous rock formation with what seems like an endless cascade of sparkling water. And I mean it's carbonated: DECK reports high concentration carbonic acid.

Date: 01049 Okay, not all settlements have the same kinds of emissions. Accidentally landed near another one. The people here are more wary than hostile, though. They were more interested in hiding than attacking me. I like to give gifts to show that not all strangers are bad, so I decontaminated one of the small crystals I picked up from that crystal planet a while back and left it for them where it could catch the light. I guess I should pack up and get off this planet before I disturb anyone else.

Date: 01077 Landed on new planet, kind of dull and rocky. No life that I can see. But the dust storm came on so suddenly there wasn't time to take off and avoid it. I'm really worried about the solar panels. And hull integrity. The wind is so fierce that the ship is actually rocking. I'm going to power DECK down to wait it out so when it's over there's still enough power to do repairs. Air and food recycling still take energy, though, so if it takes too long... Well, fingers crossed.

#I saw Jesse tweeting about this and had to play it immediately #consider this a rec!#fiction #game ref #ttrpg

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themeowsticvigilante · 6 years

Text

Episode 2 : Hired Help

We walked along the streets of the city where the streetlights still emitted luminosity at this peak of night.

I decided to have a little talk with this woman about her dilemma and think of a plan to solve it along the way.

“So Miss, what seems to be the problem? You were generally concerned earlier.”

“Oh i-its actually a sort of s-security problem.” She replied nervously.

“Security problem ? That sounds urgent. Can you elaborate the details ?”

“I’ve been sensing some unknown presence at my house every night. It looked like what seemed to be a shadow of a rather large silhouette”

“Large silhouette? Now that sounds really serious” I thought to myself as she narrated.

“I tried to block it off using the curtains but somehow I can still sense the ‘thing’ from inside my house.” She then huffed a sigh of defeat.

“It's been a disruption to my sleep schedule ever since I bought it a month ago.”

“I’ll see what I can do about it. Besides, perhaps it just someone just roaming around and taking shelter.” I said in an attempt to lighten her mood.

“I really hope so.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The house was surprisingly just a 30 minute walk from the facility. I was really positive that this mission will be finished in a short time.

“Is this the place?”

“Yes it is. It's not much of a house to begin with but a home is a home afterall.”

“I have to agree with you on that one. So, where is this 'thing’ that you were talking about?”

“I will show you where.”

Ms. Gallius then led me to the grove of berry trees located just at the east side of the house.

“I always see it in this area every night.” She said, pointing to an empty area located at the middle of the grove.

“When the shadowy figure perched itself, the trees that were once there were completely desecrated by morning.”

“So this particular thing was at the same area every night and never once moved to another location?”

“Yes.” She said firmly. “I had countless sleepless nights ever since.”

I observed the patch of trees and scanned for anything unusual hiding in its shadows. However, I didn’t catch a glimpse nor sensed an unusual presence.

“There seems to be nothing here miss, not even a slight sign.”

“B-but that’s impossible, I could have sworn there is really something right there at this hour.”

“Perhaps it just appears when you are inside. I don’t know for certain, just a theory.”

“That reminds me, I should go inside. Would you like a cup of tea while you sort this out?”

“Sure.” I politely agreed even though I am not much of a tea drinking pokemon.

Ms. Gallius then proceeded to go and open her front door. I then followed her inside.

Just as I was nearing the house entrance, I heard some rustling leaves near the bushes. I brushed it off as it may have been the wind.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The interior of the house is something I could describe as fully furnished and resembled more like a manor than a large house. Its walls were adorned with what seemed to be nuggets shaped into intricate designs.

“Feel yourself at home, even for a little while.” She said as she handed me a cup of tea.

I took a quick sip of tea, which was surprisingly good.

“Wow, this tea is great. What’s it made of?”

“It's actually Cornn berries , not a common ingredient but its still very efficient.”

“So about that problem of yours, have you tried anything else other than closing the curtains?”

“Well, I tried wearing earmuffs to at least negate the sounds it was making but its always that presence that’s been a huge bother.”

“That was most likely a ghost type. Ghost types give off that much energy that enables them to be sensed both physically and mentally.”

“And the fact that the only time you sense them is at night which is also a characteristic of a ghost type.” I continued.

“What course of action could you possibly do against it if that’s the case?” “I have never interacted with a ghost Pokemon before.” She said as she looked more concerned than before she told me about her problem.

“Well, ghost Pokemon are still Pokemon just like us. I could talk to it or fend it off depending on its mood.”

“If it means making me sleep peacefully then su-”

A loud rustle was heard from outside and it seems as Ms. Gallius was visibly shaken as she was speaking mid-sentence.

I too heard that loud rustle and was also startled but I then sensed a rather strong energy coming from outside. It seemed like the one I sensed was of high level.

I then glanced at the grandfather clock that was sitting in the far corner behind where Ms. Gallius was sitting. It was 2 hours past midnight.

“Are you alright?” I then looked to Ms. Gallius who hasn’t recovered from being startled.

“Y-yes, I-I think I am.” She then let out a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm her down.

“There, better.” She continued. “That was quite the sound it made.”

“I think I should go check outside to see what it is.” I said as I stood up. “And I could perhaps see what I can do about it.”

“W-wait, are you saying you are going to face it?” Said the Liligant with a look of concern. “Are you sure with what you will be doing?”

“Yes I am sure. Don’t worry about me, I have been through similar problems such as this.”

I then walked forward to the door, let out a breath and then proceeded to turn the doorknob.

“B-be careful” I overheard Ms. Gallius said from where she was sitting.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

I then walked outside into the darkness , where it was lit a single lamp post a few meters away.

I went to the direction of the grove of berry trees where the supposed thing was standing. I have to admit, I was quite nervous about this whole situation.

As I got near the grove of berry trees, which was previously undisturbed, I can sense the presence becoming stronger and stronger.

Immediately as I stepped right in front of the foliage, I heard a rustle louder than the one that startled both me and Ms. Gallius which implied that the source was indeed in this patch of trees.

The patch continued to rustle wildly then it suddenly stopped. As soon as the silence ensued, a mysterious shape appeared from the darkness.

One single red light illuminated from the grove. It seemed to be elevated a few meters above it.

The red light was accompanied by a tall shadowy silhouette towering above me. I started to feel a bit more nervous as it inched closer to my face.

There I stood face to face with the “creature”.

#pokemon #story #episode 2 #cipher meowstic #ms. gallius liligant #arc 1

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infoburger · 3 years

Text

Name: Rosin Jeannot L.( Lao Song ) Lavienge

Age: 16

Hair Color: Sable Brown

Eye Color: Chartreuse

Origin: Nearby Laverre City, Kalos

Hometown / Raised: Couriway Town, Kalos ( spent years in Almia )

Current Residence: Nearby Laverre City, Kalos

Starter: Chespin ( named Ajan )

Family:

Parents ? Neville Lavienge ( father, 38 ) Ruo Lan Lavienge ( mother, 36 )

Siblings ? Andrianina Lavienge ( younger sister, 14 ) Tiavina Lavienge ( younger brother, 13 )

Grandparents ? Gen Andrianantoandro ( maternal grandfather, 65 ) Tovaiji-Elodie Andrianantoandro ( maternal grandmother, 61 )

Aunts and/or Uncles ? Lusa Sao Andrianantoandro ( uncle, 40 ) Yu Sheng Hui ( uncle, 27 ) Fleurette Hui ( aunt, 24 ) Fenesoa Andrianantoandro ( aunt, 24 )

Cousins ? Niririna Andrianantoandro ( older cousin, 19 ) Vololona Andrianantoandro ( older cousin, 19 ) Latetia Andrianantoandro ( younger cousin, 5 ) Tantely Andrianantoandro ( younger cousin, 5 ) Madeleina Hui ( younger cousin, 5 )

In Laws ? N/A

Others ? The Chen Clan, The ( rest of ) of the Andrianantoandro Clan, Daphné Faniry ( fiance, 16 )

Height: 5'10 / 177.5 cm

Birthday: June 15th

Usual Place(s) to Find at: Voankazo et Hanitra ( an essence and flowershop ) Dr.Andrianantoandro’s greenhouse and study, roaming Laverre City or nearby routes ( usually on patrol )

Important Notes:

Speaks primarily French, Malagasy, andCantonese regularly at home. His speech ( default English ) is very rough [ not as bad as the rest of his family ] .

Usually have Ajan, his Chesnaught along with him.

Have an extrembly large family ( on his mother’s side ) and it’s quite common to see him with any of them while off duty; the way he refer to and talks about his family is very strange which tends to confuse others. Calls his uncle his “ father ” and his cousins ( and aunts ) his “ siblings ” but it’s only an title and still only his extended family.

Have calming fragrances and medicine always on hand.

Like most members of the Andrianantoandro family can sense supernatural activity to some degree.

Personality Sum:

He’s an lively and energetic free-spirited young man. Gets bored easily and prone to make impulsive decisions when left to his own devices.

Can look like a big scatterbrain, but he’s actually very insightful of his surroundings, also his emotions or attitude about something can be incredibly intense.

Certainly an “people person” though not incredibly talkative, he’s still a very affectionate and supportive person to be around. An approachable and sensitive young man, though have an unexpectedly puerile attitude.

He can be overly sensitive, but still tries to brush things off as if nothing is wrong. His optimism and carefree demeanor can be skewed as unrealistic at times.

Backstory: Originally from a small village nearby Laverre City with his surrounded by his large clan, mostly everyone he knew was family or close associates of the Andrianantoandro’s. His mother’s family are known mostly for herbalism, especially aromatherapy and homemade medicine. His familywere rumored to dabble in the occult and spiritual interests along with their naturopathy. His father is a biochemist that previously served as an ranger for Couriway City’s local wild routes.

After gaining an trainer license and receiving an starter when he was ten, Rosin enrolled himself in a ranger school overseas. After years away from Kalos, Rosin moved back with his family in Couriway Town to act as an auxiliary and worked along with the local rangers around the routes until he was officially assigned to routes nearby Laverre and Dendemille until further noticed.

Now since he works nearby his mother clan’s village, Rosin decided live with his relatives for the time being. His uncle, Dr.Lusa Sao Andrianantoandro is an horticulturist with his own study including an greenhouse inside Laverre City and his aunt ( but refer as an sister ) Fenesoa owns an essence and flower shop also residing in Laverre too; so the ranger regularly go back and forth from the city to the outskirts.

Faceclaim: Aijima Cecil from Uta no☆prince-sama♪

Specializes in what type(s): Grass and Ghost

Favorite Type(s): Grass, Fairy, Ghost, and Poison

Hobbies: Boxing, diamanga, painting, and crafts

Favorite Food(s): Most noodle dishes, most rice dishes; and anything with lemon, mango, and sakay pepppers ( or any hot spice or pepper ).

Interest(s) with Pokemon: He personally wanted to be an ranger for the protection of natural environment and that includes the Pokemon too of course. His mother’s family are known to have breed many Grass, Fairy, and Ghost types for centuries as well as being eccentric yet incredibly old fashion; so no one around him are too surprised that he’s such an Ghost type enthusiast.

Know any other muse(s): N/A

——————————————————————————————————

Anja ( Relaxed, Nods offa lot )

Rosin’s starter and his “number one trooper”, though not exactly the best Pokemon to with patrolling at first due his nonchalant and carefree attitude. Though he take himself more seriously as an ranger’s Pokemon than before, but once duties end Anja is back to himself and probably ready for a nap too.

( Jolly, Impetuous and silly )

Caught during one of his first missions in Kalos ( though mainly just occupying an senior ranger ) with inside a cave nearby Couriway. Honestly he was of terrified the tiny Noibat at first, but overtime he began to feel more comfortable with her. She's energetic and playful, also very affectionate toward her anybody especially her own trainer; known to do things without thinking.

( Quiet, Highly curious )

He was caught was small Litwick during Rosin’s mission to help an scared couple in an abandoned hotel. Originally befriend with his styler to help him by brightening the dim, dreary place. When the Litwick was free to go, he just kept following ( not to mention draining ) Rosin around even outside the area. Eventually the ranger simply caught him and let him stay around as an trusted companion.

——————————————————————&md ash;———————————

Felanea ( Sassy, Somewhat vain )

She was caught as an Flabebe when he was an unassigned auxiliary ranger on an mission nearby Luminose City. His family use to travel afar to certain areas for to befriend and raise the wild Fairy types for centuries and he might as well keep up the tradition himself. She’s spunky, though temperamental and can be too self-concerned. Instead of assisting in Rosin’s party, the Floette stays at his aunt’s shop and seems more content in a pet’s life, but will assist her trainer when needed.

Blotin - ( Impish, Mischievous )

Caught during mission for an apparently haunted abandoned hotel near the outskirts of Laverre. They was pulling pranks on an scared couple that went inside as some sort of dare date. Blotin is childish and eager little scamp; instead of assisting the ranger Rosin on regular bases Blotin stays his aunt’s shop .

( Lonely, Somewhat stubborn )

Caught along the same time with his Gourgeist as an Phantump while on his way toward an mission to an abandoned hotel. He’s incredibly attached Rosin and his Gourgeist at that being with each other for an longtime ( the whole reason he was captured was to keep them together ) . The large tree like Pokemon usually stays in the greenhouse owned by the ranger’s uncle unless needed.

( Gentle, Strong willed )

Caught as an young Pumpkaboo when Rosin was on his way toward an mission to an abandoned hotel. A little girl stop him and told the ranger about a “ really scary ” Pokemon that spooked her. Turns out it was just an little Pumpkaboo that was trying to protect her younger Phantump friend and her small patch of territory. She usually stays in at the greenhouse owned by Rosin’s uncle.

——————————————————————————————————-

Initial Relationships

Family

[ Doctor ] Neville and Ruo Lan Lavienge / Père and Reny / Father and Mother

Rosin’s parents that live in Couriway Town. His relationship with his dad is much closer than with his mother, though he still love and respect her dearly as well. Rosin acts slightly more serious around his mother and seems worried about her approval.

[ Doctor ] Lusa Sao Andrianantoandro / Papa / Uncle

Many people assume that Rosin is Dr.Andrianantoandro’s son until explanation. Rosin merely call him a father due to his upbringing ( his family prefer not using terms for extended family ), when he’s not on duty or helping at his aunt’s flower shop then he’s helping Papa Lusa in his study as an aid.

Niririna “Niri” and Vololona “ Lona” / Cousins

Despite calling the older pair his big brother and sister they are his cousins. Rosin always admired Niri as an role model and wishes to be more professional like him. He respects Lona as well, but thinks more casually about her not really as a role model.

——————————————————————————————————

Friends

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exesideblog · 9 months

Text

An animatic involving a lot of video game easter eggs

based on some au i have

#majin sonic #mazin sonic #majin #fun is infinite #gameboy camera man #hellvalleyskytree #sonic cd batman easter egg #mystery man undertale #gaster #animal crossing gyroid face glitch #batman sonic #luminose city ghost #feat the weird mario from mario maker

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kumulonimbus · 7 years

Text

The trade

(Overwatch Halloween one-shot - A troubled ninja, a cursed woman and an eerie pact that seems too good to be true... )

“She herself is a haunted house. She does not possess herself; her ancestors sometimes come and peer out of the windows of her eyes and that is very frightening.”

Angela Carter ― The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories

Once upon a time, a young and troubled man forsook the woman he loved.

He said he needed time – perhaps, also, a little space.

He was a man at war with himself.

His own brother had struck him down but even so and even then, death remained elusive. He had seen the blood tainting his vision red back then; had felt the wrath of such violence taking over him and diminishing his body to a mess of sweat and broken limbs. But even when his heart stopped beating, even when his muscles produced the final spasm, death would not care to visit him.

When he opened his eyes again he couldn’t recognize himself anymore.

They tried to explain to him that they had done everything in their power to keep him alive. They told him about the countless procedures that were necessary, the many hydraulics and artificial mechanisms that were now fully functioning, replacing what used to be organic… but even though their voices were loud and clear he could only see their mouths moving as their words kept on flowing unceasingly.

He could have told them that none of that mattered, that their efforts were pointless; death was simply not interested in such a man like him – yet every time he would try to say those words out loud, her clear blue eyes would surprise him with renewed candor, as if she was able to see beyond the many layers of metal covering the one he was no more.

She, the object of his affection, had been there for him ever since he had opened his eyes.

Angela…

She was a doctor, but she had done so much more for him than just healing his broken body.

She had rescued him, then she had brought him back to life. Then she had stayed by his side, waiting for him to open his eyes to a body that was not his body and a rage that felt immensely foreign yet impossible to extinguish. The metal binding him now felt more like a prison than a solution. Each mechanism keeping him alive seemed to push him further towards a hatred he could not define with simple words.

Angela had done everything for him, she had given him everything: life, shape, love… yet the only thing she had never been able to give him was peace of mind.

So he set out, his determination intact, and sought out those who had turned him into a monster. He took them down, one by one, like a beggar in the night, sheltered by the blackest sky, trying to reclaim what had once been his.

He spared his brother – the one who had ultimately struck him down, the one who had really killed him. In the end, he knew, Hanzo would have to answer to the endless echoes of his own torturing ghosts. But when all was said and done, he was left with no choice but to acknowledge the fact that his revenge had led him nowhere. He still resented all that metal; he still hated the body that was keeping him alive even when she had done everything in her power to keep him by her side.

His many travels and journeys across the world started to breathe some life into the story. Rumor had it that, somewhere in France, far from curious eyes, there was a witch that would often offer interesting trades to wanderers seeking solace.

At first he thought it was just hearsay.

It seemed unlikely for such a creature to even exist.

But as cities begun to pile up upon his tired shoulders, he started to think about those trades – what would she demand in exchange? What could he offer?

It was unlike him to resort to such things. Occultism and witchcraft seemed dubious subjects, to say the least. He was not a man of faith nor did he have a defined personal credo – not anymore. Even when the blood of his ancestors had been spiced up by the mysticism of magic and fantastic creatures, he had never longed for such dark arts to come play with his mind; the occultism was simply too far-fetched for his incipient notions, it was just too contrived, too twisted to be trusted.

And still he went looking for her all the same.

Chateau Gillard was the place – an eerie mansion that had definitely seen better days. Now, sinking slowly into the tenebrous depths of oblivion and abandonment, the place looked as cold as a death specter that comes to pry on others’ lively present in the middle of the night.

The house seemed deprived of all color. The front door and many windows had been bricked up – perhaps they didn’t want any trespassers to come inside. Or maybe, just maybe, they didn’t want a given something, a given someone, to reach the outside.

Taking a deep breath, the silent ninja climbed each vine and each fence until he reached the only window they had chosen not to seclude from the world outside. With just a few steps his vision adjusted to the complete lack of luminosity and color reigning inside the chateau – still the sight of a broken past constricted his throat as he moved inside the mansion: the symptoms of a fractured aristocracy, a type of aristocracy he knew too well to ignore, came to greet him as he stepped further into the misty corridors.

He heard her voice as soon as he reached the top floor.

“What do you have to offer?” The thick French accent was not enough to conceal the obvious: that mouth hadn’t spoken in years.

Still dubious of his surroundings, the ninja decided to follow the voice and so, he stepped inside the great room to his left. The first thing that caught his eye was the fact that the room, a giant chamber that seemed to stretch itself further away from him as he ventured the space, was completely empty. No windows to connect it to the world outside, no bed, no lamps.

Just an old armchair, completely covered in spider webs, crowded by spiders.

They came in all sizes and shapes – from tiny arachnids he could barely see in the darkness of the room to dangerous tarantulas crawling above the smaller ones. He motioned his body towards the darkness trying to pay no mind to the disgusting sound of countless tiny little legs moving all around the armchair but tried as he might to find the woman’s body waiting patiently for him somewhere inside that godforsaken room, his eyes only found the complete vacancy of her absence.

Our lady of spiders, just like the neighbors called her, was nowhere to be found.

Retracing his own steps, the disturbed ninja left the room and went back to the corridor. He had heard her voice, he was sure of it, so perhaps he had checked the wrong chamber. Or maybe he had imagined it, the echo of his own desperate need taking the most ethereal form but only for a fleeting instant, like an incomplete figment of his imagination he couldn’t quite trust. At least, not yet.

Crawling slowly on his silver forearm, the green of his visor flickered when he saw the little red spider. He froze in place almost immediately but before he could even consider the spider’s particularly odd crimson tone the arachnid descended to the ground and stood before him.

When it finally moved, he could have sworn it was trying to guide him back to the room he had just walked out of. So he followed the petite red spider until he lost it in the sea of countless legs walking all over the armchair. Tilting his head to the side, he felt the air leaving his lungs at the sight of all those spiders coming together and emulating a human form. The red spider that had guided him before appeared again only this time, the ninja saw yet another spider, exactly like the one that had caught his attention only seconds ago, walking past the humanoid shape’s mid-section.

He took a step back, instinctively, unable to look away.

Still moving all around the humanoid shape, the countless tiny legs were busy; giving life to a macabre structure that tried and failed to resemble the beauty of the female anatomy. But then all movement stopped all of a sudden, the shape was fully formed: the spiders had successfully conveyed the shape of a tall, lean woman, and the two little red spiders that had caught his attention were her eyes.

The lady of spiders moved closer to the ninja with a pace that was not human but not entirely animalistic either. Her arms, hanging loosely at the sides of her body, seemed to harbor the lazier arachnids but her hips, intrinsically more complex in their design, showed the relentless work of the most authoritarian tarantulas. The man flinched but didn’t walk away, a part of his brain briefly remembering that he had never actually feared spiders, even when the sight in front of him was more than simply difficult to take in.

“I asked you a simple question, stranger.” The creature’s lips moved as the spiders composing its mouth crawled minutely, mimicking the way human lips move to the sounds of words – “What do you have to offer?”

It was clear that the spiders didn’t care about his physical appearance. Robotic or human, the conglomerate of arachnids seemed unable to discern the ninja’s true nature – or perhaps, he pondered, they could sense his humanity hidden underneath all those layers of metal biding him to the body he hated so much.

The ninja put his hands up in a defensive stance and moved cautiously backwards. The more he thought about it, the less convinced he was with the idea of trading something of his with the spiders, for he had nothing more to offer than a part of himself. As his feet kept moving almost soundlessly, already headed for the door, the ninja debated briefly whether to attack the creature or not – it was true that, so far, it had been completely harmless but such an evil design could not be trusted either, but just as his artificial fingers began to toy with the handle of his sword he heard the spiders moving again, their legs louder than ever.

When he turned around he saw the arachnids breaking formation, the humanoid shape becoming undone as a tidal wave of tarantulas rushed its way towards him, pinning his feet to the ground and covering all the way up to his knees. Holding on to the weapon, the ninja realized his mistake but before he had any time to think about his next move, he finally saw her.

Her hand, stretched out and landing on his cold shoulder.

Those golden eyes of hers, like lifeless, bottomless pits he could not bring himself to fully explore.

Her skin was blue.

She was a curse, he thought, a godless anima inhabiting a world that was not hers. A witch, like they all said – or perhaps a demon. Maybe something even worse than a demon: maybe she was the mother of all nightmares.

It was intrinsically hard for the man not to look away as she opened her mouth and small spiders began to crawl their way out of it, hanging from her lips, clinging to her teeth as if holding on for dear life. Their legs like needles, pinching and piercing thought her frigid skin but still, one by one they fell to the ground and quickly pooled around her ankles, joining the countless spiders still covering her up from her shoulders to her feet.

The green light of his visor flickered once again, more violently than before, as he truly sensed the danger in the shape of those tarantulas keeping him captive in their collective type of strength.

“Please, don’t struggle.” The woman said peacefully, “They won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt them.”

If she could have seen his face she might have been surprised by his look of complete bewilderment. He was covered in metal; there was no way those spiders could cut through his armored body… but then, the distinctive sound of metallic plates being separated froze the blood running through his veins – the tarantulas were tearing him apart, slowly disassembling the plates that were now his ankles.

Drunker in stupor, the ninja watched soundlessly as the many spiders that were still covering her body began to abandon the woman, revealing the beautiful garment she was wearing – a long, sleeveless dress completely made of silky spider-web. Marveled at the sight of such eerie beauty, the man didn’t notice the spiders were now quickly moving towards him until it was much too late. As they climbed atop him, the ninja realized that their communion truly had a weight of its own – the conglomerate of spiders was crushing his body, keeping him in place, as if trapped inside the layers of metal that were meant to protect him.

“You are running out of time, stranger.” The mysterious woman said as she moved near him. “What do you have to offer?”

The ninja tried to break free but it was pointless – the spiders had successfully restricted his every move. So he just stood before the woman, resolute:

“I thought you said they wouldn’t hurt me.”

She contemplated him for a brief instant, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head to the side. She was no stranger to such sharp tongues, still she laughed quietly at herself before saying:

“They won’t – but they’re not fond of trespassers either.” A half-smile was adorning her face yet her eyes, distant and melancholic, seemed to be too busy remembering the events of another life. “If you’re here to trade, we’re all ears. If not…”

“I have nothing to give you!” The ninja yelled, fear and trepidation getting the best of him.

“Then why did you come?” The blue woman asked in all simplicity.

The ninja shook his head trying to figure out what was bothering him the most: the constant satire of her simple logics, or his own helplessness.

“They say you take away the dark feelings…” He stuttered, ashamed.

Rubbing her hands together in delightful anticipation, the woman stood before him and let her cold hands land on his silver shoulders – “What sort of dark feeling do you want to get rid of? Is it fear? Or hate? Perhaps jealousy…”

He could have named any of those feelings – the fear of a lifetime seeking revenge, the jealousy he would always feel towards any man who could offer Angela a better life than the life he had to offer, all the nightmares plaguing his dreams, the ambivalent nature of what he felt for his brother…

Still he chose hate.

He hated his body – the cage they had built to keep him alive.

“I hate what I’ve become.” He said. “I can’t find peace between this walls – all these metallic layers feel like a prison, keeping my here but forcing me out at the same time. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror anymore. This thing I am now, it’s not what I really am.”

“I can make the feeling go away,” she offered, “You just have to surrender to me the source of such a dark feeling.”

He looked at his own body then back at her,

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” The ninja said, almost at the verge of giving up. “This armor you see is not for protection. This is me.”

She moved her hands around his torso, taking in the view. If she had to be completely honest with herself, she had never seen someone so torn, so broken in his whole integrity. With a soft touch from the tip of her fingers, she began to trace a simple, spiraling pattern for the spiders to follow – in a matter of seconds he watched them in awe as the arachnids began to walk around in circles, right in the middle of his chest.

“What if I told you I can offer you life beyond this armor?” Her fingers were relentless, summoning all spiders and making them follow her frantic designs. “What if I told you that you don’t have to live like this?”

For the first time in ages, he felt the warmth of his own tears heating up his damage visage. It just seemed too good to be true, but still…

“And you are willing to accept this metallic body in return?” He asked shyly, knowing too well that the end of his bargain was nothing when compared to everything she was willing to wager: his armor for a second chance, for the body his own brother had mutilated – the chance to resume his life, the endless possibilities for the future that he had already discarded.

Angela… her oceanic eyes in the distance, calling him home.

The blue woman nodded her head, “I’ll take your armor – and your dark feeling.”

“Why would you want that?” He asked, a bit perplexed but still lost in the seducing images flashing right before his eyes.

“It’s not for me.” She said, looking at the spiders dancing across his artificial anatomy, “It’s for them. They feed on such dark emotions… Do we have ourselves a deal, then?”

She offered him one of her hands and he took it, ready to give up the man that he was in order to become the man he wanted to be. The spiders covered him completely as the spider-webs began to cocoon the metal that would no longer bind him. The last thing he saw was the hairy legs of a tarantula walking slowly across his visor.

“One last thing,” he heard her said, her voice becoming a distant echo, “You are giving up your hatred, in the shape of your armor – everything related to it will be gone from your mind, your heart and your soul as well.”

He took one last breath as he thought about the chance of forgetting Hanzo. Even if it was bittersweet, he was positive it was better that way – for the both of them.

He closed his eyes as his mind drifted away – the whole world went black, and he felt his own body fall down to the ground, as if deprived of all gravity.

It could have been hours, or maybe days. Perhaps, even weeks… When the light began to swirl its way through the complex designs in his cocoon the ninja opened his eyes to the image of his own flesh, the skin he had lost, the body he had missed so much – now returned to him.

He broke the cocoon with renewed excitement and searched for the woman but, to his surprise, she was nowhere to be found so he walked around the house, naked as he was, until he found an old red blanket on the floor, in what used to be the living room. He wrapped it up around his shoulders and motioned towards the door, stopping in his way out to take a look in the mirror: the spark in his eyes was back and sure, he was in need of a haircut but there would be time for that…

There would be time for such frivolous concerns, the playboy considered as he laughed quietly at himself.

He stopped once again by the threshold and looked over his shoulder – though he did remember the trade, he couldn’t remember what he had offered in return for such joy nor what had caused him to make a deal with such frightening creature in the first place.

He had it all and, after all, he didn’t need anything… except clothes, of course, but that wasn’t that bad either he thought, as he made his way back towards the city, causing every lady in his path to turn around, look at him and smile tenderly in his direction.

And he smiled back at them, at every single one of them… their naivety and their love had always represented the simplest of sins for him and, deep down, he was sure: the woman for him, the one who could chase him down and capture his heart, hadn’t been born yet.

#overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #halloween #widowmaker #amelie lacroix #genji shimada #mercy (mentioned)

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stephicness · 7 years

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Some Useful Tips on Making Gifs (With Sony Vegas)

@sxlvxrfxngxr

Well hi there! :D Thanks for your nice comment~ And for taking the type to ask me something!

For me, making gifs is a bit different than the photoshop loading up and editing type thing, because I actually use Sony Vegas plus a third party website to convert my video files into gifs. c: It’s tedious to go from one thing to another, but I can describe my process of gif-making to you, if you like! It might give you an idea of how ideas form, and what things I do when editing it! If you’re not familar with Vegas, then it might seem like a bunch of mumbo jumbo, but it’ll get you a start on how to do it!

Keep reading below since this is gonna get long, and be wary! Imma be using Chapter 13, Verse 2 as my example!

So like everything I make, I gotta start off with an idea, right? In this case, I’m starting with the idea that ‘Man, I really like Ravus. Imma make a self-indulgent gifs with, I dunno, the new cutscenes and stuff.’ So with an idea that simple, I fire up Vegas and drop the video file I want to take from, so I can cut it down!

When I make my gif sets, I'm very exact when it comes to the timing on them. So they all are 2 seconds long. Rarely are they longer than that. So I trim down the clips that I want to make gifs of, and I have them in my timeline for editing and trimming! (In this case, I’m trimming the subtitles until I can get the cutscenes in HD without the subs). So after that’s all trimmed down, I’m able to have individual clips to trim down if needed, pan to what angle I want them in, and have stuff I can add and eliminate accordingly! Good stuff! Be sure to disable the resampling by selecting the clips and going to switches. It’ll prevent ghost-framing and make your clips look so clean and smooth when in motion!

Now I can add my video effects to the clips, which basically act as my filter and coloring. Me personally, I like darker blacks and lighter lights, so I end up adding an effect known as ‘Levels’ to my clips, as well as the ‘HSL Adjust’ effect. Both of those will allow me to brighten my colors highlights while darkening the darks that I want. It’s a play with it, but I typically like the Preset ‘Studio to Computer RGB’ for levels and an HSL adjust with 1.21 points on saturation, and 1.05 on luminosity. I just drag and drop what I want onto the entire video track to apply it, and that gives me my base color. (I use these base settings on the ‘This Is...’ series. Basic color enhancement!) You can also use Levels and HSL adjust in Photoshop too in your adjustments panel as well!

So now, I play around with some coloring, usually with nothing in particular for a set color, but for this case, Imma go with something violet. This is where I usually play with ‘Color Curves’ and ‘Color Corrector’ to get the tones that I want. Color curves is nice because you can play with the specific RGB spectrums you want, making some colors more apparent or others less. Kinda like the color sliders, only with a graph instead. You can anchor certain points and shift the color and lighting to your favor, making it a fun tool to experiment with! You can first edit all three at once to play with lights and shadows, and then you can go to each one individually to play with how much reds, blues, and greens appear.

Some examples of playing with it...

It’s all about playing with the color curves, but you can make some pretty cool combinations! After you apply color curves, you can also try using the Color Corrector tool. (There’s secondary color corrector too, but that one’s more good for a sin-city effect.) This tool allows play on the colors too, but it’s not as manipulative as the Curves tool, and it’s a Vegas feature. But with Color Corrector, you can apply midtones and highlights of certain colors to your edit, while also playing with the lighting, saturation, and contrast of it. This one’s customizable by its low-lights, mid-tones, and high-lights, so it can be used to make things softer or apply almost a color wash over your edit. It’s really nice when wanting to try muting your clip, but not have it straight-up black and white. Like many of Vegas’s effects, this one’s all about play too! If it’s too bright too, you can desaturate it from the color corrector, or even apply the Black and White effect in Vegas to desaturate it even more.

Once that’s done, you can add text with the Text Generator in Vegas! I use 10, so the text generator was pretty much the same since Vegas 7, but in versions like Vegas 13, you’d have to find the Legacy Text Generator for a more simple interface. Basically just type it in, add outlines, shadows, and the like there. It doesn’t have fancy text effects, but you can just add transitions and stuff with Vegas effects to do cool things with text in general! I’m simple with my text, so I enjoy using the ‘Times Sans Serif’ font with ‘Times New Roman’ to make more pretty looking edits. Don’t need fancy fonts, in my opinion, but they can look cool in some instances. Again, it’s experimentation in what you think looks cool! For quotes too, I usually come up with them from the top of my head. But in this case, I had a Dragon Age quote I wanted to use. c: So playing with some Graphic Design things, you can apply the text accordingly!

And that’s pretty much all I wanted to do with my gifset! I’ll then render out what I have and then I can run over to my gif converter site to convert everything into a GIF format for Tumblr. When rendering though, I render in an HD 30p format, with a project template of 60 frames per second, so my things are a little bit clear. Depending on the converter sight, you can keep all of the frames, but Tumblr HATES large files. So, I keep it in an MP4 30p render file and call it good. c:

From there, I can trim down and optimize my gifs for a proper Tumblr format. The website I use only has a cap of 25 FPS, but it lets me optimize, crop, resize, and more after I upload my video file. It’s easy to use once you get the hang of it too!

And that’s how I make my gifs. c: It’s really fun and simple once you get the hang of it! Photoshop is a different process for making gifs, but here’s how to do it with video editing software! I hope this helps you out a bit, despite my rambling and stuff, but it might help you if you figure out Photoshop gifing too, dear friend!

#stephic edits #tutorial #gifs #sony vegas #stephic writings #das a whole lot of ravus as an example #i ain't complaining though~#sxlvxrfxngxr

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moriibund-blog · 7 years

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the sun retracts its reach lethargically, luminosity dimming as it prepares for slumber. they loiter in an expansive field amidst high-rising mauve lisianthus, chilled air gently brushing past. ❛ try this one. ❜ deft fingers hand headphones back to her, smooth jazz ( or Jazz Lite, as he’ll say ) playing through them. he heard it this morning whilst within the city. he hardly enjoys jazz himself, but it was something more refined, different from the usual stuff, and thoughts had immediately shifted to her knowing she might like it. brown hues flit across pallid features, gentle curve ghosting his lips in anticipation. / @nightworn.

#nightworn #verse tbt

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the-gunslock · 4 years

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Hiver 4 - North, part 2

This is the second of a 3-part story about Amanda and I. This one is about how one dinner changed my life.

The shipwright waits patiently for her friend, observing the multicolored dusk sky passing by. Her work for the day is done, her back and shoulders are sore, and she would like nothing more than to take a shower and spent a whole day off, being lazy. Which, well, she managed to schedule for the next one. The Hangar won’t implode because of her taking a day to herself.

She hopes.

As she massages her thigh where her prosthetic leg connects, she hears steps frantically tapping the metal staircase above. She guesses it’s Hiver and beams at the excitement she always carries herself with. It’s kind of adorable, if she had to admit it.

It’s...

“‘S she like this with everyone?” Amanda thought to herself, realizing how busy she has always been to meet Hiver’s clan and friends.

Her question is left unanswered at the Warlock launches herself down into the metallic beam, barely bothering to hover down. She hits it with a CLANG, waving delightedly and jogging to Amanda’s position. She’s practically bouncing as she greets her crush.

“Ay Hiver. What crazy contraption d’you have for me to see?”

“None!”

“Oh, you found a good hand cannon you want to talk about? That’s fine too.”

“Wrong.”

“...Want me to hug you while you vent about horrible Crucible matches?”

“Three strikes, you’re out! No, I want you to come with me, Amanda.”

Amanda is out of ideas for answers. “Alright then”, she says, putting her palms up in ‘defeat’.

She gets up and holds on to the Warlock, who floats them out of the isolated metal beam. She is curious but at least Hiver’s body language shows it’s not something threatening. As they take the elevator from the Tower down to the city, she ponders over her friend.

It’s funny -- how genuine she was, specially for a Warlock. Most were methodical, or cynical. Rahool, Ikora, Asher Mir, all of them acted in such a way that it made her feel so small in comparison.

Sure, it caused conflicts between themselves too, but people who carried the task of guarding and acquiring knowledge had a way to make civilians (and sometimes even other Guardians) feel so belittled, even if they didn’t mean to. It kind of made them hard to hold a conversation, and the feeling of having to shut up and listen is incredibly frustrating.

Hiver, though... She was intelligent, yes. But also… approachable? Charming? Humane?

The human looked sideways at Hiver standing next to her in the Tower elevator. She had an innocent smile on her face and was bobbing her head side-to-side to some song she probably got stuck in her head.

Tender. Yes. Tender was the word Amanda looked for. A quality that made her a friend first and a Warlock second, in her heart. It was less about teacher and disciple, or Guardian and shipwright, and more about Hiver caring for her, and her helping Hiver. It wasn’t totally like helping other Guardians, though -- Hiver appeared to be going the extra mile to make sure she was doing okay, in between missions to save humanity from obliteration.

“Amanda? Let’s go.” Hiver says as the elevator doors open, summoning her sparrow and climbing on. Amanda holds on to her waist and they blaze into the illuminated streets of the City.

“Hiver, you never really told me where we’re going.”

“It’s a surprise. Hold on a little while longer.”

The ride is calm as Hiver takes care not to go too fast or crash into anything. Amanda takes this rare moment where she is on the backseat to appreciate the view of the people around living their lives, the many now-lively buildings that were rebuilt after the Red War, and the street lights passing them by. After a while, she just closes her eyes and buries her face on Hiver’s back, waiting for them to arrive at their destination.

They stop in front of a grassy plaza with artificial lakes, and Hiver pulls up to the opposite sidewalk.

“Amanda? We’re here.”

“Well, anytime ya want to tell me where “here” is and what we’re doing, feel free.” She says, both of them getting off of the Sparrow, leaving it to transmat away. Hiver motions for her to follow. They enter a building with a large, marble-stone lobby. Warm lights bring life to the place, the walls’ corners are lined with lively plants inside long wooden planters.

To the right are a bunch of couches and tables where people are going about their business, talking to each other, reading, eating a meal or working on their holo-tablets. To the left, a balcony with two frames, elegant black shells with white details and trimming. Behind them, intricate, gold and silver metal letters spelling “Luminosity Heights” in a cursive, fancy font.

“Greetings, Ms. Hiver! Welcome back!” One of them says from behind the reception desk.

“Hello, Siegfried, Roy! Authorize a guest, please.”

They quickly update some data on their workstations, and give both of them clearance. Hiver goes up to one of many turnstile doors containing an energy barrier and removes her gauntlets to place her hand on some sort of biometric panel. Once she is confirmed, she motions towards it in a “ladies first” manner and lets Amanda through.

Amanda starts to understand where they are. After the door they reach the vacant elevators and Hiver types the floor number. As they ascend, Amanda leans back against the opposite wall and takes in all of the luxurious, yet somewhat rustic scenery they just went through. The Warlock is straining to contain her excitement, but she just eyes her crush and smiles at her.

The elevator stops, its doors opening. They are now in a smaller room, with an intricate white vase containing a beautiful bouquet of white and blue flowers, sitting atop a black table with silver details.

Hiver goes left and places her hand at another biometric scanner. “Ms. Holliday?” Hiver says, anxious for her reaction.

“It’s… Amanda, Hiver. What is it? What is this place anyway?” She says, a bit impatient from her tiredness.

The door to the apartment opens, letting the moonlight in from the windows at the end of the living room. The white lights turn on soon after the door is open.

“Welcome home.”

Amanda steps in, and takes off her boots. She is in awe of the cleanliness and the decoration Hiver picked for her place. It felt cozy, and peaceful. A nice place to come back to.

“Ahaha! This’s a fine place. It’s -- it’s awesome!”

“Trinity, play Pale Rider, please.” The Ghost obeys, counting “one, two” and starting to play old guitar chords. “Amanda, you can make yourself at home. I’ll take a bath, and then grab you a towel so you can shower.” Hiver says, before entering her bedroom and closing the door.

“Got it, girl.” Amanda answers, giving her a thumbs-up. She rests her body on the couch, spreading her tired legs and enjoying the western-like music Trinity is playing.

She is sitting on a brown, suede-ish couch with three seats with a tree-like floor lamp beside it. In the middle of this room is another black end table in the same style of the one in the lobby. Below the tabletop, many books about various subjects -- fictional stories, archives, journals -- are arranged, some of them untouched, others in a deplorable state; she imagines Hiver didn’t dare damage them further.

The walls are a clean white, adorned with some pictures neatly lined together; mostly simple paintings of plants, and some delicately made drawings of exotic revolvers framed behind anti reflective glass, including the currently lost Hawkmoon and First Curse.

As the song ends, Trinity goes to rest in a little red pillow Hiver got her.

On the wooden television stand, was a wide TV and what seemed to be a game console. Above it, she put up a shelf that displays miscellaneous sculptures of Guardians and enemy units -- particularly the Vex. Amanda remembers Hiver saying she was very afraid of Vex, even though she likes their aesthetics. Levitating on display were coin-like artifacts said to honor the Iron Lords, and two porcelain vases with devil’s ivy creeping down their sides.

Looking at the window on the left side, she sees a small reading nook by the three windows. It was a raised wooden section full of and moss green and beige cushions, easily accessible drawers under it. The walls above have some macrame vases hanging from them. It was big enough to fit two people, or three if they were sitting. Thin, linen curtains separated it from the rest of the living room, and the windows -- as Amanda went to inspect -- gave them a good view of the Last Safe City.

The apartment was not too high, but not too low either. Walking back to the couch, she spotted a marble-top island with chairs, and behind it was the kitchen part of the place. Amanda considers asking Hiver to make dinner. The last time she ate was over four hours ago.

After a while of hearing a hair dryer sound, she sits back on the couch and Hiver announces her presence again. “Back I am!” She says, carrying a towel for the shipwright, who took a moment to appreciate her outfit.

The Guardian had changed out of her robes and was now wearing a thin, white blouse with a black peter pan collar that exposed her slender shoulders with a little bow knot neatly tied under it. On her lower half was a deep blue, ankle-length skirt that shaped well to her hips and waved elegantly as she walked. She had traded her Annealed Shaper boots for much more comfortable black tights.

“Hey, looking good! You warlocks sure know how to be fashionable.” Amanda commented playfully, taking the towel in her hands. Hiver chuckles nervously and blushes.

“I-it’s nothing special. See, my bedroom is at the end of the hallway. There’s a shower there, right next to the door. If you want to borrow some clothes from my closet, you can do it too. They should fit and... I can wash your coveralls as well.”

Amanda throws the towel over her shoulder. “Alright, thanks! Listen, don’t wanna be a prick, but… can I eat something after I’m done? ‘S been some hours since I last ate.”

“Of course! I was planning on making us dinner anyway. No need to rush and, if you need anything else, all you have to do is ask.” Hiver answers happily before disappearing into the kitchen to look for ingredients. Amanda rolls her eyes and smiled at to the Awoken’s housewife-like behavior and wanders to the bathroom.

Everything there was also clean, but made from a grey granite to contrast with the whiteness of the other rooms. The mirror was relatively large and plain, and on the corner of the bathroom was a bluish stained glass shower box with a tub if she so chose to use it.

Amanda stripped herself off her clothes and tools, leaving them on top of the toilet seat to collect later. Locating Hiver’s care products to use, she also spots a small sliding window with three very small vases on them, waiting to be occupied. One of them housed a small sapling; Amanda turned on the shower and smiled, reminding herself to ask Hiver to show what grows from it.

After a much-needed cleansing of her pale, greased skin (Made much more satisfactory by the ludicrous amount of skincare products Hiver has) and some massaging to help her soreness, the human stepped out of the shower and, while she dried off, she had to pick something to wear.

Not wanting to think too much about it, she picked out a random black set from Hiver’s underwear drawer and put it on quickly. Surprisingly, they don’t differ much in bra size. She considers it lucky.

Now, for clothes, she examined every piece carefully, time and again taking them for a closer look. The guardian appeared to prefer comfortable and clean-looking clothes, probably a byproduct of her wearing armored robes and trench coats all the time.

As the shipwright tries on a red sweater that falls off her shoulders, she feels a smell coming from the kitchen. ‘Tomato?’ she guesses, which caused her stomach to express its anger even more. She chose a pair of white cottony pants to go with the sweater and grabbed her things from the bathroom, bringing them to Hiver.

Getting to the island, she sees a plate with steaming hot… toast? Covered with layers of tomato, then melted cheese, and… some herb? Probably a spice… Amanda has never seen something like this.

“Hey Amanda.” Hiver says, not taking her eyes off the kitchen counter. “Help yourself. I’m almost done.”

“Wait, done with what?”

“Dinner.” The warlock responds, shrugging and smiling smugly at her confusion.

“Isn’t this dinner?”

“That’s an appetizer. Or… an entrée, as Ada would say.” She sprinkles grated parmesan cheese over the meal she’s making. Amanda sits down, setting her clothes aside and taking one of the toasts, biting into it and closing her eyes to analyze the taste better. It’s…

“Delicious...” She blurts out without thinking, eyes shining. The Awoken girl smiles in pride while putting the main course in the pre-heated oven, then walking over, juice jar in hand, to take a seat next to her crush. It’s been forever since she’s had a meal with someone.

She picks up a Bruschetta. She doesn’t know the name of it, just the recipe, but she was determined to find out. “We Warlocks don’t just search for Golden Age relics, you know?” She takes a bite out of it, enjoying its salty flavor. She could tell she had done it just right and was happy about it.

“So…” Amanda starts, in the middle of her second Bruschetta. “When did you get this place?” Hiver pours them both a cup of juice.

“This morning, after some days of dealing with bureaucracy and killing stuff to get Glimmer. I got it with most of the furniture, so the price got a little… saltier.” She looks at her kitchen, happy to have a place to call hers. “Still, beats living out of my ship or in Old Earth’s cold, dead debris.”

Amanda nods, mid-chewing a half of the bread, and then swallows. “I’m happy you got it, Hiver. It’s pretty cozy, and… very you, if that makes sense. It’s not bland, but it’s not super fancy-pantsy either. It has a nice feeling to it.” She continues eating the other half as she recalls the sense of style of other Warlocks she met.

Particularly Brother Vance.

“I did my best in making this place presentable to you… but this is not all I have to show, though.”

“My, my, aren’t we full o’ surprises today?”

They hear a ding coming from the counter, conveniently, as the bruschettas are almost over. Hiver’s kitchen counter, shaped like a chicken that she painted a little spades symbol on, has gone off indicating the meal is ready.

“Just be patient.” Hiver says while putting on oven mitts and pulling it out of the oven. Amanda notes that it looks like a… tomato sauce mess. Putting it on their plates, they get to eating.

“Boy, do you like tomato. Not that I’m complaining.” The freckled girl pushes the sauce away from her food, revealing pasta and fried steak.

“Villages around found a way to grow them… really fast. And they’re healthy. You say to-may-to, I say make sauce with it. And everyone’s happy.” Hiver replies with a smile, garnering a laugh from her human friend. They eat the rest of it in silence.

After the main course, Amanda is still curious to see what Hiver has to show her, hurrying her up in an almost coquettish way. Hiver goes to her storage and pulls out one of the Dragon Fruits she was given in the Old Texas frontier.

“Amanda… is this here familiar to you?” She says, bringing it back to Amanda. She gasps, her expression changing completely; Her face is one of shock, her eyes widening immediately. She presses her lips together and takes the pink, prickly fruit in her hands with utmost care, examining it thoroughly, as if it were some sort of jewel. Hiver could sense some change, but not identify if it was good or bad.

The Awoken silently motions to have it back, grabbing a knife from her utensil drawer and opening the fruit to expose its white flesh. She proceeds to cut and push cubes out of the flesh so that she may serve it and give them to Amanda, who is visibly trying to hold herself together, hands with fingers intertwined pressing against her forehead and her thumbs supporting her brow ridge.

“Amanda?” Hiver says, pushing a plate of pitaya towards her. She picks a cube of the fruit and, as soon as she slowly finishes eating it, tears start rolling down her face uncontrollably. She then downs another. And another, and another, each of them bringing a stronger wave of emotion than the last.

Hiver watches silently, holding back her impulse to hold the woman and never let go. She had made it. It was the fruit. And more than that, a part of Amanda’s childhood.

She finishes the fruit, pushing away the plate, and lowering her head to continue sobbing. Hiver starts rubbing her back in an attempt to give her some comfort.

“Do you want a hug?” She offers.

Amanda silently gets up and quickly holds her friend, crying as quietly as she can -- which isn’t much -- on her shoulder. Hiver hugs her back, rubbing the back of her head, and they stay like this for some full minutes, before Amanda regains some of her composure and manages to stumble towards the couch, wiping her tears away.

“How…” She hiccups.

“Eva’s book.”

She turns to look at Hiver. “And… and where did you…”

“Let me grab you some water, this is gonna take a while.”

Hiver then proceeds to wipe Amanda’s tears off and explain her expedition to Old Texas.

“I see…” Amanda says, starting to feel better. Hiver reaches over and softly wipes away her tear trails. “Thank you.”

“I figured it would make you happy.” Hiver says, smiling shyly.

“It did. More than ya know.” The blonde is finally back to smiling, and leans her head on Hiver’s shoulder, sending her into a flustered panic. She can’t let it show. “Sorry Hiver… it’s… it’s late. All that cryin’s made me pretty tired.”

“Want to sleep here?”

“Been too much of a pain already. I should go.”

Hiver sighs. “Amanda, it’s more than a pleasure to be around you. Don’t think you’re bothering me, especially because I was the one who brought you here and did everything I could to make you feel welcome. D’you like this place? Do you want to stay?”

Amanda is a bit taken aback by her friend’s seriousness. “Yeah… it’s good to have someone other than me at home, if I’m being honest.”

“Then please,” Hiver wraps an arm around Amanda’s shoulder, holding her close. “Stay.”

The shipwright revels in the warmth of her friend’s embrace, slowly letting go of the half-painful nostalgia the felt earlier, and smiling softly as she started to doze off. She feels relieved. Before wandering off, the human girl manages to mutter one last sentence, giving Hiver just as much happiness as she caresses her crush’s shoulder with her fingertips.

“‘Kay. I’m stayin’.”

She feels at home.

#destiny 2 #destiny fic #destiny warlock #destiny oc #amanda holliday #hiver the gunslock #oc x canon

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