he was always smart and active. he was always the top student. he didn't graduate from stanford law school as the top student, but he got good grades. on top of that, god has made him perfect and charismatic. 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘭 ? [ INDEPENDENT JANG HAN - SEOK FROM NETFLIX’S VINCENZO. ] 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐦𝐞.
send in a 🎞 and i'll write a response in which i tell u what i imagine would be a fantastic, iconic debut scene for your muse to be introduced in their respective franchise. (ACCEPTING!) / @bhavidya
listen u think i won't do one for this man too??? i'm gonna have to watch the series but i'LL FECKIN DO IT --
but first of all i wanna just. i love u. i love vidya. and she deserves much much better than this, but also i wrote it down in purple ink so i either thought this was a terrific idea twelve hours ago, or i lost my pen. and i definitely lost my pen, so HERE WE GO--
i like to think that this might have been set during NWH, but also like. not during NWH, more like a spicy little marvel clip that might have been released BEFORE the tv series and the movies to excite the audiences during 2021 to get us all hyped up for the forthcoming phase 4. kinda like what they did with team thor, but also, this is more serious and like a little sample of what was to come, okay?
so the scene opens up in an art gallery. idk any fancy art galleries in new york, but insert the fanciest art gallery u can think of. the queens version of the louvre. the camera focuses on three students' legs, so we can't see the painting, but we know who these three students are as they start to talk. mj is debating the painting's authenticity with ned while peter's scrolling anxiously through twit.ter, where the camera remains focused for the conversation, so we're more focused on peter's crisis, but mj is growing more and more frustrated with ned. "ned, ned, dude, just stop it. this painting is like, a hundred years old. right? or it's SUPPOSED to be. so why did this lady paint a massive shield on the ground in front of the statue of liberty, when we all know that's only been in the news since last year?"
"nobody knows anything ABOUT her, though! she could be a witch! or an alien! or a sorcerer--"
"and she knew about captain america's shield before captain america was born? nice try. it's a fake." suddenly mj's hand blocks our view of the phone, and the camera lifts to focus on their faces, away from the painting. peter apologetically puts his phone away, and mj smiles a little, just as ned's potential retaliation, marked by a deep inhale from him, is interrupted by a smooth, serene, melodic voice from off-camera.
"perhaps it isn't a shield at all." the camera turns. a beautiful woman (vidya) is seen sitting on a bench, observing the discussion with a pleasant, comforting smile. "this painting was completed mere years after the statue's construction was completed, after all. this circle might be a former workers' camp."
"maybe. except for the star in the middle. and the circles. and there's literally nobody on the ground."
"ah." the woman nods, unfazed by mj's immediate wariness. "good point. they must be very good, though, to convince the artistic world that this is an authentic painting."
"maybe." mj's hostility seems to be heightened by the woman's focus on peter, a strange sorrow in her gaze, combined with gratitude and a touch of confusion, as though she might be trying to remember why she feels such things towards him at all. ned inadvertently diverts the conversation, and the trio, away to another section of the art gallery, insisting that he won't be getting mj a slushee, because "you didn't win that argument, you just pushed it on to that nice woman on the bench."
meanwhile, as they leave, and mj's shrinking voice insists that the woman was "just being a dick", the camera returns to vidya, who is identified once she stands up, a bangle designed by phastos gleaming on her wrist, and she traces the hasty signature of her name on the bottom corner of the painting with an almost fond remembrance. but as her attention lifts to the painting, her smile fades to a frightened anticipation. her phone buzzes, and she answers it, while the camera turns to show us a terrifying glimpse of the painting; a perfect portrayal of the final fight in NWH, purple gashes of portals opening in the darkened sky, a sandy hurricane, green monster, and massive lightning storm visible beneath, and a man in a cloak powerless to stop any of it.
the camera pans back to vidya, who's hurrying out the door, the eternals music beginning to swell up as she pushes through the doors, and her voice lifts clearly over the music. "sersi? it's me. i found it. it's far worse than i recalled." the screen goes black. the only thing left, is vidya's last sentence, and a terrifyingly exciting promise of what phase 4 promises to bring:
on this silly little sunday, i am here to drop soft instead of spice. vidya is very physical with her affection, be it platonic or romantic. things that would otherwise be intimate are simply just comfortable to her. she’s very big on small, intimate gestures like hair combing, taking care of her companion with face masks, massages, holding hands just out of closeness, feeding someone with her hands, etc.
The Handmaiden (2016)
Dickinson (2019)
Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga (2019)
Dickinson (2021)
Rafiki (2018)
Imagine Me & You (2005)
The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020)
𝐝𝐜 / 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 : vidya sharma was a name that travelled on the lips of the wealthy and the well studied. a painter, renowned for her grand artwork internationally. vidya was a socialite who had cropped up in gotham with little explanation or fanfare. ever since anyone had known of the woman, she had lived a quiet but luxurious life. her riches were chalked up to the masterpieces she sold at infrequent auctions, and the galleries that popped up in her name. everyone who was anyone in gotham had a custom painting made and hung in their living space and each art piece came with a story as vibrant as the piece itself. although not a recluse, vidya slinked through crowds without willingly drawing too much attention. when asked where she had moved from, there were inconsistencies within her stories. it was hard to call the woman who greeted everyone with such warmth and hospitality a liar, even when the facts stared them right in their face. but she caused little trouble and spread light in a dark room, so they paid her little mind.
a few years before vidya had made herself known to the public and begun selling her pieces, talk spread of a discreet seer who had made their home in the depths of gotham city. word spread like wildfire in a city of secrets, and many began searching for the one known to conjure visions of the future. any who had gotten in touch with her spoke highly of the fortune teller. the poor found wealth, those struck with misfortune found their stroke of luck, even rumours of law enforcement recruiting her help to find convicted criminals had begun to spread. they knew her as nazar, and there seemed to be only one way to get in touch with her. nazar was a lover of the arts, and at every other gallery there seemed to be a single painting that haunted its observer. a dark canvas and a striking pair of eyes, so lifelike it felt as though one was being watched from the shadows. for those who wanted to contact the seer, they would leave a note tucked behind the frame of the painting requesting her service with a simple code phrase : open my eyes. twelve hours later, the requester would receive a plain brown envelope and in it would be an address. never the same, the sender impossible to track.
when meeting nazar, the requester would find themselves walking through a maze of dark rooms in usually spacious flats. near pitch black, they would be guided to a room in the back where she sat waiting for them. a heavily embroidered veil draped around her head, leaving nothing visible but her dark eyes. her fingers adorned with gold jewelry that glinted in the sparsely spread candles in the room. nazar’s readings were always short, upwards of an hour at most. the questions asked had to be specific, and she would only answer to her own psychic limits and to address the inquiry laid out before her. nothing more, nothing less. like a shadow lurking in the city, she watched over its people with neutrality. never pulled into the atrocities and crime unless her services were asked for. irregardless of who asked for them.
notable differences between vidya’s main verse and this : in vidya’s main verse, her paintings are all anonymous. anyone who knows vidya knows that she paints, but the general public does not know that the revered pieces that depict tellings of the future are made by vidya. she’s an anonymous painter. however, in this verse, she is known for her art and what pieces she creates. still as grand, but this time around, they are never related to her visions. in vidya’s main verse, her visions are random. she doesn’t know when her biggest ones will occur, nor can she control when and what she sees. in this verse, she has full control of when she wants to see the future and what exactly she wants to see. in contrast to her main verse, her visions do not span across large amounts of time. they are specific to the near future, within a few years.
since i’m obv not gonna be doing any writing today, it’s ooc time bae bees. tell me what muse(s) you’ve written that will forever have a special part in your heart.
@bhavidya asked : this isn't your fight. you protected me, it's my turn to protect you.
🌿 “ 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐝. ” the word sounds wrong in the drawl of her accent, too human and not at all divine, too mundane for the daughter of a god. ( she thinks back to a time before the other, when she might’ve been ashamed or embarrassed of such a human trait in the presence of someone as otherworldly as she should be. but her world is not other, but rather the one they stand on. she can feel its every quiver ; andromeda knows she is not otherworldly in the slightest – she is more this earth than anyone on it and her mother made it so. )
vidya’s existential tendencies made her problems feel small as they left andromeda’s mouth. to anyone else, they might’ve sounded dire, life - threatening — empousas attacking the town, ancient automatons setting fire to the woods dangerously close to the farm, skewering rogue harpies from the clock - tower’s roof — but from one demigod to a celestial, from one late teenager to an immortal, andromeda supposes such complaints must sound silly. ( she supposes the danger must seem miniscule as well. these are the tales she spins when vidya is absent, unable to narrate her view otherwise. ) by comparison, that must mean this problem’s size was drastically worse than anything andromeda had seen in her short life. the earnesty in the other’s voice makes her start again with protest.
“ no, no. i don’t go lookin’ for fights, so when my friends bring ‘em to my door, i know they’re ones worth it. can’t i help ? i can help ! ” a sincere, distraught pout settles on her face. disappointment, fear, an itch to do something useful. “ i promise i can help. ”
meme.
there’s the faint throbbing of a headache forming in the back of her skull, and it hammers until her entire head rings like the inside of a church bell. the last thing she had expected, for years to come, was the return of deviants. five hundred years ago, she thought she had seen the last of them. her visions had settled, and she no longer saw images of the creatures lurking around corners or terrorizing innocent cities. the world had moved on, and other disasters lay in its path, but none like the alien species that once had kept her small family together. it had become a game of waiting for the last few centuries. until they would be brought back to olympia where they could celebrate their victory and ease themselves into a life they so desperately yearned to go back to. not all of them had hope that they would go back, vidya being one of them. while a small part of her dreamt of a day they would take off on the domo, back outside of earth’s atmosphere, the logical side of her knew the unlikeliness of the event. they were as much human as they were celestial at that point. had roamed the earth for so long that it had become their new home. now, with the reason for their mission rearing its ugly head, there was no end in sight.
it tired her to know that their work had come undone with such ease. it tired her even more to know that she would, once again, have to worry about the safety of loved ones. there’s a hint of pity in the look she spared andromeda. the girl of a god was meant for bigger things, and vidya knew that she could feel it in her bones. wrangling with a deviant was no easy task, and vidya had heard rumours about what the young demigod could do. she had chalked it up to talk between superheroes, whispers among s.h.i.e.ld and other organizations that could never really grasp the severity of their situation. it had taken her witnessing the girl taming the monster to understand where the rumours had stemmed from. nonetheless, she didn’t want to put andromeda in harm’s way. ❝ i know you can, ❞ her voice was soft in contrast to the strained tone of the younger. vidya’s hands reached out to gently smooth her hair down, resting her hands on her shoulders with a small smile. ❝ and you have, you’ve helped so much already. without you telling me, i might have never known they were back. ❞
she took a deep breath, weighing her words carefully to avoid sounding patronizing. ❝ i wish i could explain it better, but this is so much bigger than both of us. ❞ her grin fell and she took a step back, turning to look out the window and into the dark night, illuminated briefly by flashes of blue and red sirens. ❝ i need you to promise me that you’ll stay out of it. ❞ her tone dropped to one of desperation and eyes locked on andromeda’s reflection in the windowpane. ❝ please, annie. ❞
starter call but with a catch. you have to tell me one niche headcanon about your muse in the reply to this post and i will incorporate that into the starter in some way, shape or form. if you can’t tell with my activity lately, these will be insanely slow.
titsay
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
jbbartram-illu
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
