a hummingbird knight! i wanted to do a stained glass+silver kind of theme, and while i find teals and greens difficult i think it turned out nicely here
It is increasingly obvious that most people have no idea how to indicate an illness is slowly killing someone without making them cough up blood. Doesn’t matter what it is or if it has anything to do with your respiratory system, if you’re dying, you’re coughing up blood.
Writers found out about tuberculosis and were like “damn this slaps” and we’ve been stuck with it ever since
First attack on art fight i kinda went a little ham lkdkfk
@vio1315 aka @thedailyvio's ocs starring Vadim
So Strong as Gentleness; Or, Powers and Prejudice
Chapter 2: Immovable Object
For generations, the Bingleys had been the staunchest allies of the city’s superhumans, and the current generation had lived up to the family legacy. It was commonly conjectured that Charles Bingley himself numbered among
the city’s masked superheroes–that he was the alter ego of the Storm
King or the Nighthawk or the Blur–but it was just as commonly argued
that this would unite too many blessings in a single man. Charles Bingley was good-looking and gentleman-like; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. He united personal fortune with personal charm, and he had no need of superhuman talents to make him one of the city’s most extraordinary citizens.
It was with great astonishment that Jane noted his presence at Bingley Enterprise’s headquarters when she and Lizzie arrived at the recruitment event. The crowd was vast, but Mr. Bingley darted through with astonishing speed, shaking hands with everyone, delighted by the day and pleased by all in attendance. Though the strictures of the event required Jane to spend most of her time filling out forms and conducting interviews with middle management, she received a moment’s attention from the man himself. He approached her just as she was departing from an informational table, offered a handshake, and desired to know her opinion of the event, her occupational and educational history, her opinion of Netherfield, her favorite popular musicians, and if she had noticed the heavily laden refreshment table in the main lobby. Jane provided all the information desired and was surprised to find Charles Bingley genuinely interested in the answers. A few moments of conversation left her convinced that Charles Bingley was all that a young man ought to be–sensible, good-humored, lively. She had never seen such happy manners–so much ease, with such perfect good breeding.
It was not until she caught sight of Lizzie–reapproaching her after they’d been separated by the crowd–that Jane remembered their mother’s purpose in sending them to the event. But by this point, Mr. Bingley was already being pulled away from the conference.
In the course of the day, Mr. Bingley had gained a shadow–a tall, dark-haired young man who was as aloof and elegant as one expected the heir to a corporation to be. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was head of a Pemberley corporation, with fortune and fame for such that eclipsed the Bingley reputation. He rarely left the city of Pemberley, and Jane could not fathom why a Bingley event had drawn him away from his own business concerns.
It seemed that Mr. Darcy had similar questions for Bingley, because after Darcy had pulled him a few steps away, Jane overheard him scolding his friend. “You shouldn’t waste your time with this nonsense.”
“Nonsense? Darcy, you know as well as I do that vetting future hires is a prime security concern.”
“You are socializing when you’re needed elsewhere.”
“Caroline has it well in hand. If my help is needed, I can rush to the rescue, but until then, my time is as well spent here as anywhere. Bingley Enterprises is a powerful force for good in this city.”
“Not as powerful as some.”
“Don’t force me to modesty, Darcy. I know our organization is primitive compared to what you have in Pemberley, but our strategies are effective for Netherfield, and if you could just trust…”
It was at this point that the two men moved too far away from Jane for her to hear any more of their conversation. Turning to her sister, she asked, “What do you make of that, Lizzie?” Her sister had undoubtedly overheard the same conversation–perhaps was hearing it still, as her senses retained some of their animal acuteness even in human form.
“Is it not obvious?” Lizzie said with a laugh. “It appears our company is not exalted enough for the grand Mr. Darcy. In the heights of his villainy, he has deprived you of a charming conversational partner and destroyed your chances of personal happiness.”
Jane sighed. “Mother will be disappointed. I made no mention of–”
“This has nothing to do with our mother. I was speaking of your obvious infatuation with a certain philanthropist.”