#circle tower looks actually quite nice without all the blood and gore

[alwayscryingoverdannyb]

back on my DA:O bullshit ✌🏻😎

[thebestestboyo]

How Remus Started Working For Patton: Part 5

Masterpost

Tw: Remus being Remus/Swearing/Drug Mention/Drinking Coffee

While it took some getting used to, Remus was immensely pleased at his newfound membership to the Anacondas.

Not ONLY did he have another person to annoy the shit out of daily (this position was held by Dee and Virgil exclusively, as well as his brother), but he also was able to pop by and bring Pat on his adventures so he could feel that fuzzy sensation in his chest.

Ree still couldn't determine why he felt that way, but he supposed it was because Pat would listen to him ramble without telling him that it was stupid.

Or maybe it was because he was pretty? He was remarkably attractive, whether in a skirt or in a pair of jeans, and his hair seemed softer than even that dead rabbit Virgil dared him to touch once. Whether that was because the rabbit was dead or because Patton was Patton, it didn't matter. But even then, Remus had met plenty of attractive people! And he didn't usually have this reaction, at least, not one this soft.

Maybe it was the danger? Pat was part of a crime organization. Remus always did like the danger of doing things most people saw as dangerous or scandalous, but it didn't feel particularly high stakes yet. The most risky encounter they had was that damned seagull chasing after them. (Remus was going to kill that bird one of these days...)

He supposed he'd have to ask his brother. Grosssssss. Remus hated asking his brother for advice, it always was some fairytale crap or something similar. But, as Virgil wasn't home, and he was NOT going to ask Patton (that would be embarrassing), Dee (they're brothers) or Logan (he's not too good at emotions), he had no other choice.

So that's why he was standing on the balcony of Roman's apartment, hair full of leaves, sighing for what seemed like the twentieth time as Roman continued to not notice him.

"Oh brother dorkest!~ It is me, your evil twin! Get your gay ass out here!"

That seemed to do the trick, well, to some degree. It at least made Roman jump, turning his head to look through the window at him.

Not too long after, it also caused him to finally open the window! Spectacular.

"Remus you know I have a front door."

"Oh but it's just so much more fun to see your reaction when I use unconventional means! Remember when I used your vent system?"

"Yeah, and you nearly fell through it. To what do I owe the displeasure of a meeting with you?" Despite his words, Roman was clearly biting back a smile.

Hopping through the open frame, Remus began to pace around the apartment, leaving a trail of leaves in his wake. It had been windy outside, he couldn't help it!

"I am facing an emotional dilemma!"

"Dilemma? Who taught you these fancy words? Where is my real brother???" Roman crossed his arms where he stood, leaning up against the wall in amusement.

"Oh shut your butt. Seriously though, I am facing problems and all my other friends are unable to help at this time."

"That's a first."

Remus ran a hand through his hair, wishing he had put a braid in it or something. Normally he'd be fine with it full of leaves, he'd had worse, but right now he was on edge and he'd prefer if there wasn't the crinkly sound every time he moved. "Its with this guy dipshit! This guy that for whatever reason I cannot understand why he enjoys my presence."

With that statement, Roman's demeanor changed drastically. Making his way over to his brother, he sat him down on the couch. "This seems like a problem in which we'll need some coffee. You still like yours the same?"

Ree simply nodded, still stewing over his emotions.

His brother came back holding two mugs, one that was coffee only in name, and the other that was some amalgamation of cream cheese, sriracha sauce, and hot fudge.

He handed the abomination to Remus, sipping his own. "Ok spill."

"So a few weeks back, I met this guy. And I thought it would be like all my other flings ya know? Chill, not much expectations, and ending after about a week. But this guy is just, pure sunshine. He and I flirt a bit, and he's pretty cuddly but as far as I can tell he sees me as a friend. But I don't know how I see him, because whenever I'm around him I get this dizzy feeling and it's like being drunk and taking hallucinogenics at the same time??"

"Ah so you're in love with him!!!"

Remus nearly spit out his drink at how sudden it was. "Excuse me??"

"You're in love!!!"

"That's ridiculous! I don't do that! The most I have is a one night stand! A fling if I'm particularly bored! I don't do 'in love' my dearest bother." Making air quotes with his free hand, he continued sipping his drink, if you could call it that.

Seriously. What was even in it??? It looked disgusting! But for some reason Remus kept drinking it??? What a madman.

"Well, tell me about this guy then."

"What???"

"For curiosity's sake! It's been so long since I've had a relationship so I'm projecting to yours."

"Haven't gotten laid recently?" Remus wiggled his eyebrows, knocking elbows with him to see if he'd spill his drink.

"Ugh!! Vulgar, he'd at least have to buy me dinner first." Ro swiped his mug away before the mountain of whipped cream was disturbed, frowning. "But seriously! What's this guy like?"

"If you want the basic description, he's cute as fuck. If you want the less basic description, he's quite possibly the only guy who I would want to slow dance with since...collage at least."

"Wow, slow dancing??"

"I KNOW right??? He's got these pretty-ass eyes and whenever I look into them I just melt and he's so soft that when he hugs me I'm just a puddle of blood and guts on the floor and I'd let him tear the heart from my chest if he asked."

"Wow. That's...that is a crush. That my dear brother, is a crush!"

"Ugh shut up. So what's up with your life right now? Make any new musicals?"

Roman's face lit up, and then dimmed almost immediately after. He didn't meet Ree's eyes as he spoke, slowly stirring his drink. "Well..."

"Well what?"

"I did, but it was rejected again."

"That's bullshit! Your scripts are amazing! Even if they lack the blood and gore, they're some of the best pieces I've ever read! That cock of a publishing company should be begging for your works!"

"It's really not that big of a deal...they were unpolished anyways."

"I'm going to commit arson soon enough."

"Remus no! I'll just try some of the other publishers. I'll have to work twice as hard, but maybe one of them will like it..."

As Remus looked at his brother, he noticed the dark circles under his eyes and how his body curled into itself, as if it was barely staying together.

"Dipshit...you haven't been sleeping well huh?"

A shake of his head was all Remus needed to set both of their mugs down on the coffee table, lifting up his brother. "You need a break. I don't trust you not to work yourself to death."

"Remus no, I have to get working on the next-"

"Nope! I'm taking you to my pal's place. He'll watch after you. I'm going to work soon, so I'd do it myself, but he's second best."

"Please tell me you aren't leaving me at a bar."

"Nope! Logan doesn't drink. Says it messes with his brain's 'structural integrity' or something."

Roman, used to his antics, simply wrapped his arms around Remus, leaning into him as he grumbled something he couldn't hear.

"Don't worry, I'll grab your keys so you can get back in. He's nice I swear!"

"If I end up dead in an alley I'm haunting you."

"Virgil would hate that. He already thinks we have ghosts in our apartment, you'd be the final straw before he buys an ouija board."

They talked quietly as Remus grabbed some of Roman's important stuff, then heading out. Thankfully, no one bothered them on the walk over, and Remus didn't have much problem knocking on the stained door of Logan's place, which, in his words, 'serves as my workplace as well as my domicile so Remus kindly stop bothering my cat.'

"Hey Locoooooooooo!"

There was banging from inside as his only answer unfortunately, so Remus assumed that he was in his lab.

Time to let himself in! Roman had fallen asleep on his shoulder by now, so he couldn't set him down to crawl through a window. Crap. Might as well use the keys then.

Maneuvering his grip, he managed to grab them from his pocket, stepping in. Entropy, who was sitting on her cat tower, merely blinked at him before hopping off, most likely to go find Logan.

"Lo-comotive!"

"Remus I swear if your roommate threw you out again because you messed with a skunk-"

Ah! There he was. He must have been working with one of his machines again, when he came out to greet him, he was wearing his metal-working mask. "Hi Logie!~"

"Hello Remus. Why does it appear as if you're carrying a dead body?"

"This is my brother! I told you about him before. He needs someone to watch after him so he actually rests for once in his goddamned life."

Roman, who had awoken by now from all the noise, struggled to get out of Remus's arms. "I'm not a child-"

"I can't watch him right now since I have to go work at Hell Incorporated-" He made a face, disgusted at even the mention of his office job, "-so I thought you could?"

Logan turned up his mask, looking closer at Roman, his face...red? Wait what? It was probably because the machine tended to get hot. Or...

"Remus, you want me to nanny your twin brother?"

"Yep! He's an incorrigible little menace that won't sleep unless you force him to or he passes out from exhaustion."

"This is a grown man we are discussing?"

Piping up from his struggle to get down, Roman turned to look at Logan. "Exactl-"

His intended speech cut off as he locked eyes, exhaling a little bit at the sight. "oh."

Glancing between the two of them, Remus noticed the redness on both of their cheeks, and wanting to see none of whatever stirred up his brother, simply pushed him into Logan's twig arms. "I'll be back soon!"

Both turned to look at him, startled looks on both their faces.

"Remus!"

He was already out the door, snickering.

[slightlycrunchy]

Whumptober

Day 17: “Stay with me”

Y’all this is my first fic LITERALLY EVER. BE NICE. Second draft?? Who is she?? Editing? Never heard of her. I struggled. Enjoy.

LinkedUniverse AU

Words: 1435

Warnings: slight gore, emotional trauma

He was climbing.

He was awfully good at it after all, let alone it was something he enjoyed immensely. It made him feel alive. To feel his muscles move, stretch and tighten, almost exclusively from memory. One of the few memories he had seemed to have kept.

Akkala. His Hyrule.

He had just needed a moment. Just a little time to himself. They hadn’t been to Wild’s Hyrule in ages it seemed, and he had wanted to visit one of his favorite solitary haunts. Alone, he told them. “I won’t go far”, he had said. But he hadn’t told them where.

Too much of a chance they would follow.

The Citadel. He had a feeling he had had many memories here. He had been a knight after all, following his fathers footsteps. Or so a particular memory had told him. He chose to believe her.

These were his thoughts as he climbed, fingers stretching to the next hold, feet following closely behind in a sort of dance. His muscles burned, his scars stretching slightly uncomfortably as he extended the full length of his body over and over, sweat rushing like rivers down his shirtless frame.

The exertion felt incredible. The Links all shared a need for action when their emotions were especially tumultuous.

And Wilds were especially that. Tumultuous. But something more...they hurt him. Something mental, but affecting him physically all the same.

Coming back to his Hyrule put his head in a place it hadn’t been in months. Ever since he had met them, Wild didn’t think of himself. His friends, they were what mattered. This showed by how he cared for them. He fed them, knowing a hot meal could do wonders for an exhausted body and mind. He listened as they told their tales, offering a shoulder to lean on when needed....or even only wanted.

And when they needed more, much to Twilights dismay....he would die for them. He would come back after all, they wouldn’t.

And so the months had passed, his mind quite occupied in tending to his brothers.

He didn’t leave much time to think of himself.

That was, until they stumbled upon his Hyrule.

It always happened so smoothly, without so much as a sign until someone, usually the one to whom the world belonged, would speak the obvious change.

This time, that charge fell to Wild. But he didn’t get a chance to speak.

It was like lightning had struck him. But there was certainly no storm. Pain erupted from his head, blinding him, jerking his head back towards the heavens, his hands following to cradle his own shattering skull.

From the vibrations he felt rumbling from his chest and throat he was sure he was screaming. And loud at that. But he was lost somewhere else. Every memory he had gathered during his journey was flashing through his mind, with no space between. He wanted to shut his eyes, he didn’t want to see-

But you cannot hide from yourself.

Zelda, Mipha, Revali, Daruk, Urbosa...and then something else. People he didn’t recognize, places he hadn’t seen.

He saw himself, smiling, and the smile actually reaching his eyes this time...

“...ild...”

“...wild...”

“WILD!”

His eyes jerked open. He didn’t remember closing them.

His hands were still wrapped tightly around his own head, his face was wet with tears. His throat was raw and throbbing.

Twi looked down on him from somewhere above him, and he realized there was an arm behind his shoulders, supporting him, while his lower half was clearly on the rocky path they had been traveling. He didn’t remember falling either.

Twi slowly placed his remaining hand on Wild’s wrist, making slow circles on the inside of it, telling him without words to relax his arm. Wild complied, letting Twi gently remove it from his aching head.

“Breathe, cub.”

He took shallow, shaky breaths. In, out. In, out. This took more attention than he would have thought, because next he knew he felt another arm from his other side slide underneath his legs, while an exchange happened beneath his shoulders simultaneously.

Time then stood, effectively scooping Wild up in his arms as if he weighed little, his head lolling to rest on his chest beneath Times chin.

Wild groaned with the quick movement, not much sound escaping his aching throat, before he was lost to the blackness again.

He next awoke in a bed. The familiar sheets over and around parts of the bed revealed it to be a stable, which one he did not know. His head ached, but it was nothing compared to what it had been. And while his throat felt tight, the vague memory of what it had felt like helped him to see that obviously some time had passed; the pain was all but gone.

There was daylight streaming in from outside, which made him hope he hadn’t been out too long. He hated to be a burden. He was already feeling the guilt crawl into his bones.

He turned his head slowly to see Twi sitting in a chair, eyes absolutely transfixed on his own.

And as if Twi knew exactly what he was thinking about... “Two days.”

“Shit.”

While technically the word came out, it was nothing but a raspy whisper. And the quietness did NOT betray how it had felt, his throat screaming at him.

“Wild what was that?” Twi’s face twisted into a state of worry, something Wild sadly saw all too often when Twi looked at him.

He didn’t dare speak. He rose his hands to sign. My memories. I saw everything....and then some. I didn’t recognize all of it...

“You scared us to death cub...” As he trailed off he lowered his gaze to his own hands, grasped together with fumbling fingers. With which he then went to grab Wild’s closest appendage, enveloping his hand with his warm embrace. He returned his gaze to Wild’s icy blue eyes, and with it brought a hand up to cradle his slightly pale face.

“Don’t do it again.”

I won’t.

Knowing fully well that wasn’t really a promise he could keep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

And so, that brought him to now, 2 days after what could be called a confusing experience. The others had fussed over him for another day after he woke, even though he insisted he felt totally fine.

As fine as he could. ‘What was that’ was truly a loaded question, one which Wild was desperately trying to figure out himself. He knew he had neglected himself in the months leading up to now. He had pushed down any thoughts concerning himself, past or present.

He also hadn’t been in a physical place that required him to remember those things. There were different dangers in the others’ worlds. Ones that required all of his attention and mental space. And so he had reason to forget himself....right?

He had reached the top of the tower, lungs heaving from exertion. Palms red and all but bleeding. But this is what he needed. And he thought to himself it was serving it’s purpose, the pieces were falling together.

Their foray into his world brought everything he had been suppressing back. He should have known better. You cannot hide from yourself. But boy was he good at trying.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the sun was certainly going down. Having rested, he decided it was time to return.

He ran, full speed, air filling his lungs, blood pumping through his veins as his leg muscles pushed against the ground with all they had, until he reached the edge and jumped; free falling to the red dirt below.

In a practiced movement he pulled his paraglider from its place on his hip and soared through the sky. Goddess he loved this. He was pretty sure he always would. His thoughts turned inward as he sailed away from the tower toward the stable. The act of flying didn’t need much of his attention after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knew his cub didn’t want him following, but with a scare like he had given them 2 days prior, there’s no way he’d be left behind. Twi had animal instincts, you couldn’t tell him something wasn’t going on inside Wild. He knew.

And so when the boy told them what he was going to do, Twi gave him some distance and in his wolf state, followed.

It had been hours. Sitting in the Citadels shadow, watching his cub commit near death drops every fourth hold he found on the wall, all the while having the time of his life. Twi found a sort of contentment in it. Perhaps he would be alright after all.

The sun was going down. From far up the cliff he sees a small body launch itself, caution be damned, off the tower walls; paraglider following shortly afterward. He snickered as much as a wolf can to himself, and then began the trot back to the stables.

He had forgotten how much it rained here. Storm clouds were moving in, small flashes of light intertwined with swirling clouds. The grass beneath his feet suddenly whipped and waved with the wind, where minutes before it was still. He picked up the pace.

Seconds later, a crash such as he had never heard cracked through the air, pounding in his ears and shoving him to the ground. But he didn’t see a ribbon of light hit anywhere near him he thought to himself. Until instead, he raised his eyes, and a small body, his cub, was plummeting to the earth, smoke and fire accompanying him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Wild came out of his internal battle with his own mind only to realize what had happened in the atmosphere around him. He knows what his storms bring. He assesses himself. He has a small dagger on his hip, but other than that nothing else. Climbing with full gear on is treacherous and foolish. He looks around him again, sees the grass below him weave and whip as the storm winds blow in. He looks to the right and slightly behind as he scans the area.

“A dog?”, he says out loud to himself. “No...that’s Twi.” And as those words leave his tongue, he hears a crack louder than anything he thinks he’s ever heard. Simultaneously a pain like fire, forcing its way through his body, consumes him. Like a barbed liquid, poured through him, filling his lungs, his veins, his mind...

He knows he’s falling. The slits that are his eyes see the ground coming closer, and just barely discernible, a dark figure with it.

~~~~~~~~~~

He sees his body hit the ground. Hears a sickening crunch, and then silence.

Twilight transforms instantly, running to Wild’s side....what’s left of it.

Burned flesh, oozing skin, bodily fluids seeping from the cleft starting at his hip. The hilt of a dagger being what was left of the reason for the strike.

“Gods cub why didn’t you take it off?!”, he hissed under his breath. He lifted Wild’s head gently, closer to himself. Wild’s eyes were closed, his breathing ragged and shallow, his entire body still spasming. Twilight lifted a finger to the hollow of Wild’s neck, feeling for a pulse. It remained, but was entirely irregular.

Then the shaking started. He was trembling continuously before, but this was intense. It was shock, Twilight knew. He was not going to survive this. They were still far out from the stable, and moving him would do nothing but worsen his condition.

This was it.

The hand that wasn’t supporting his back made its way to Wild’s face, caressing his cheek as he stuttered for breath.

“Cub...? Cub...”, he trailed off, tears freely falling down his face, bringing his head to rest against Wild’s.

Wild’s eyes opened only just enough to consider them open, and when his eyes roamed and settled on Twilights, although not really seeing him due to his condition, Twi said the only thing that his mind would string together.

“Stay with me cub”.

And with a giant stuttering sigh, the life left his form.

[jbbuckybarnes]

Distant Connection - 7/11

Pairing: Bucky x Harmonia (OC) Warnings: mentions of wicca/witchcraft, mention of parents death, gossiping about main character Summary: After an unknown group of goons took her mom’s life and tried to get her for the dark magic powers she possesses, this untaught witch is saved by the Avengers and brought to the compound where her new life unfolds.

MASTERLIST || Distant Connection Masterlist

After waking up pretty early again Harmony decided to go to the stone circle outside of the compound again. Something about this area in the early morning hours was deeply relaxing. She climbed up one of the rocks and sat on it with her face away from the building. She had a nightmare that night about seeing people dying and it still didn’t fully leave her system. Gore wasn’t something she usually dreamt about. She didn’t even watch horror movies. She had her little journal with her and wrote the rest of her erie feeling out of her system. Steve was watching her from afar after he finished his morning run. Something about her today was different. He could feel it and see it in the way she acted. After a while, she jumped down from the giant rock to put her journal back into her backpack and started training a bit. Seeing her pick up those gigantic rocks with her powers made Steve drop his jaw and as soon as she kicked it the opposite direction of him he got the chills. Training alone gave her some kind of balance that made it possible for her to cry. If the anger could leave her body, the sadness could go too. After watching her for a while he saw her picking up her things again and left for his room to not make her feel uncomfortable.

After a shower she picked up her sketchbook and some art supplies and left the compound to go to the tower again. She didn’t even think about the plans she made with James for the morning, she just needed a different environment to get her mind off things. She walked in to a few college students learning for their exams and two high schoolers hurrying to leave because their next lesson would start soon. After grabbing a snack she sat down in front of one of the laptops in the computer room and opened her book of shadows on a new page to write down the symbolism of her dream. There was something very soul-cleansing about spending the evening before and this morning alone with herself and her thoughts.

Someone sat down next to her while she was deep into reading an article on coping through dreaming. “Is everything okay, Harmony?” Steve’s voice asked beside her.

She looked away from the screen and at him, “Yeah, just need some alone time. Why are you asking?” “You are so different today. I saw you train and you were...not like you usually are,” he answered softly. “I had a nightmare but I’m fine. Promise.” she gave him a weak smile but she meant it. He put a hand on her shoulder, “I’m always here if you wanna talk about it, okay?” She nodded, “I know. Sometimes I just need a bit of time to understand things myself.” “You wanna be alone now?” He asked empathetic. “If you wanna stay you can. I don’t mind. Just don’t interrupt me too much.” She smiled before she got a nod and looked back onto the screen. The morning hours in the tower were actually quite nice, not a lot of people and still a lot of inspiration from Midtown Manhattan outside. Steve was drawing again, this time with markers, and she went on with reading about PTSD and other mental health things. The only sound interrupting the silence was her regularly eating a date from the snack package she grabbed or the closing and opening of a pen. “You know...he’s the old him around you,” Steve said out of nowhere after closing a marker. “I know. He just...he’s home,” she described it back to him. “And the only times you have a generally positive look on your face is when he’s around.” He went on. “You can be lonely in a room full of people until the right person comes around.” She smiled softly at the thought of the evening before. “You love him,” he said with a soft and knowing smile back. “Yes. Yes, I do.” A dumb little smile formed on her lips after saying that out loud. “He loves you too.” He opened the next marker. “I know.” Her heart made a little extra jump. “Why that?” He asked with a grin knowing that she was either about to list all the ways he made her happy or tell a great story of him admitting his feelings somehow. She opened her sketchbook on the page he had drawn. “That’s why you weren’t mad at him when you came out of the elevator.” He realized. She giggled and nodded at his little realization. “He can be really charming if he wants to, huh?” He joked about his friend. “Truly, with a little pinch of being afraid of me throwing him across the room with my magic...which I won’t say that it happened but I don’t wanna lie either.” She was back at her normal self again finally. Both of them started chuckling before they heard footsteps in the door, “It was her learning self-defense may I add.” James said with a smile. Her whole face lit up even more when she saw him there “What are you doing here?” she asked while pointing at the chair left to her. He walked over with a, “My two main idiots aren’t at the compound. Of course I look for you here after you told me about your art sessions. Turns out they are also gossiping about me sessions.” He winked with a smile on his face. Before sitting down he leaned forward and softly pressed a kiss onto her lips. This was the most perfect situation. His best friend deserved to know first and he was the most comfortable doing this in front of him. With one of his typical Steve smiles he asked, “How long have you been doing this right in front of my face without me knowing?” “Since the elevator incident,” James answered. “Great. Makes me feel really good about myself that me scaring you, kissing you where Steve can’t eavesdrop and you telling me my art is better than Steve’s is ‘The Elevator Incident’,” She chuckled. Both men started laughing loudly at her little sassy moment. “With a witch and an assassin, everything has a code name or is an incident...or both,” James said shrugging and smiling. He was sitting with his body towards her and his hand on the table in front of her where she grabbed it. He didn’t stop his breathing this time. Something about her warm hand on his cold one was calming him. “Actually...I made a painting of that incident.” She flipped open the page with her free hand. “That’s pretty.” James smiled at it and leaned forward to kiss her head. “Of course you like a painting of yourself dude.” Steve laughed. “It’s called being grateful and in love Steve!” He said giving him a slight punch on his arm with his free hand. “You sure you both aren’t blood-related?” She looked at both of them with a soft smile. “Nah, I would be way more of a dumbass if I was related to him.” James started. “But also a little more artistic.” Came back from the other side. “Damn, that hurt.” He said fake offended. Harmony just shook her head giggling, “I went here to learn but that’s impossible with two idiots left and right from me.” Their little chatting session was interrupted by a lot of school kids coming in. School was over for most of them and she realized how long she had been sitting there with Steve before James came.

The girl from last time sat down across from them with a little smile at Harmony. “Hey Lydia.” Steve beside her said with a smile. “Oh, she really came to you for help, huh? Told her you were a complete dork.” Harmony nudged her elbow into his side. “He is.” Came back with a bright smile. “Can we help you somehow?” She asked her. “Not unless you wanna write an essay about pop culture and its influence on spirituality in the last 10 years.” Came back a little bit exhausted. “I know a lot about it but really wouldn’t know where to start with it. Let me know if you need my help when it comes to nature religions and witchcraft.” Harmony answered. Her eyes got a little bigger when she heard witchcraft. “Wait. Tell me a little bit about witchcraft cause that’s something we didn’t talk about and that could get me a straight A.” She was excited all of a sudden. “Sure.” Harmony grabbed her book and came over to her to talk about her experiences with witchcraft. The two men just sat across from them staring for the longest time until Steve continued drawing and James stole her sketchbook and drew something into it too.

“Can I ask you something?” Lydia almost whispered. “Sure.” Harmony smiled knowing some weird question was about to come. “Are you...an Avenger?” Not what she expected. She shrugged her shoulders “Ask Tony. I can throw this one across a room,” She pointed at her boyfriend, “so I’ll assume yes.” “I didn’t defend myself. Just for the record,” he answered from the other side of the table. “No, you were distracted and called me a dork, remember?” She chuckled. “Yes, that shit hurt.” He almost mumbled it. “Too old for the job, huh?” She poked fun at him. “Don’t get too confident over there, little witch.” He smiled a heartwarming smile. “I’m always confident...soldier boy.” Her eyes narrowed with a smirk. “Get a room!” Steve now commented with a big smile on what happened in front of him. “Remember that both my room and his room are super close to yours? I think you would still hear us...talking.” That was a saved sentence there, the girl didn’t need to know about this. The little smirk that instantly vanished again from James’ face was only noticeable for her. “So...you are an Avenger? Cool.” Lydia smiled at her a little bit in awe.

[wrath-and-regret-blog]

VERY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY.

RULES. repost; do not reblog! tag 10! good luck!

TAGGED BY: tagged by @luck-crowned who requested Velkyn and/or Kaladin, and my dumb ass went for both XD

TAGGING: I haven’t got anyone to tag yet RIP

(( 1. Velkyn ))

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Velkyn Kilana

NICKNAME/S: ‘Vel’ (previously only used by his foster father, but then the nickname was adopted and used by the leader of the Assassin’s Guild, causing the rest of the guild to quickly follow suit. Now it can be used by just about anyone who decides that those extra three letters are just too much.)

AGE: 45 (In human years, but looks closer to mid-20s physically. Pretty young, by elven standards.)

BIRTHDAY: Sometime in Winter (Earth month equivalent: Mid-January)

ETHNIC GROUP: Drow Elf

NATIONALITY: Underdark (in D&D verse), Rivaini (in Dragon Age verse)

LANGUAGE/S: Common, Undercommon, Thieves’ Cant, Elvish (In both D&D and DA verses)

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual AF, buddy pal, and a total disaster.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Same as above, but with like twice as big of a disaster on the horizon. He doesn’t know how to express his emotions in any healthy fashion and would most likely struggle forever with just admitting he cared about someone.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Currently single in all verses

CLASS: Basically lower than dirt in most circles. Pretty high up in the assassin’s guild though, so there’s that.

HOMETOWN / AREA: The city inside Mount Wryoz in the Underdark.

CURRENT HOME: He no longer has anywhere that he thinks of as home, spending his current life wandering and taking contracts where he can find them. At the moment though, he is attempting to bring down a cult and rescue his foster father, despite the rift he’s wedged between them.

PROFESSION: He is a skilled assassin, in both ability and mindset, showing no mercy towards his targets or enemies and making sure that the killing strike does it’s job without any room for doubt. There are times when it actually gives him a sense of enjoyment to have such control over life and death, since he has such little control of his own.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: A bright halo of soft white curls, worn long and tied back into a tail with bangs that commonly fall into his face. Though often matted with blood and gore, it can be washed and brushed to near perfection with the right amount of care.

EYES: Pale pink in color with a blood red burst in the center. Giving off a bright glow in the dark, his eyes are sharp and focused and burn like fire when turned towards the source of his anger. His eyes are large and expressive, almond shaped and angled, bordered by long pale eyelashes.

NOSE: Slender, with a sharp, slightly upturned tip, A large scar stretches horizontally across the bridge, from one cheek to the other. He has a habit of scrunching it when he thinks.

FACE: An oval-shaped face with delicated elven features. Or, at least, they would be delicate, if he didn’t make such vicious expressions. 

LIPS: Full, slightly marked by splits and bite marks, as he tends to chew at his bottom lip when he’s stressed. Often curled in a snarl or twisted in a deep frown. Perhaps his smile might be beautiful, but he doesn’t give a damn.

COMPLEXION: A deep dark brown, nearly true black, creating a striking contrast between his skin and his icy locks of hair. 

BLEMISHES: Scarred from head to toe, thanks to his years or struggling and painful lessons. Most notably, the scar across his nose, a slice taken out of his right ear, near it’s pointed tip, and a scar on his left shoulder from where he was stabbed just below his collarbone. That particular wound was recieved on his first assassination contract, but his recklessness doesnt seem to have lessened.

TATTOOS: No tattoos, but there is the brand of his guild on the heel of his left foot.

HEIGHT: 5′1″. He is...so small.

WEIGHT: 105 lbs. Just about anyone could lift him, so long as he wasn’t resisting.

BUILD: Slender, acrobatic, with wiry whipchord muscle throughout his body. His arms and shoulders are especially strong, despite his small frame. Though he is athletic, he isn’t especially bulky. He could even be seen as graceful at times, though it is a brutal, powerful grace. 

ALLERGIES: None

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long and usually tied back in a tail with a blue chord. it is only down while he sleeps or occassionally weaved into a braid if he has the time.

USUAL EXPRESSION: More often than not, Vel’s expression is grim, only shifting when he’s feeling particularly sarcastic or when he’s hit by some intensely strong emotion. Lips set in a firm line, eyes narrowed and focused, brows furrowed, staring down a brick wall would be easier.

USUAL CLOTHING: Dark colors, loose fits, things that are easy to move in, easy to fight in and don’t draw too much attention. He wears a few pieces of leather armor alongside his clothing and his gauntlets are a constant piece of equipment. Wickedly spiked at the knuckles and often bloodstained, his gauntlets are his weapons of choice, lending his punches a deadly touch.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR/S: Helplessness, weakness, the trust of others (and failing them), having his heart broken, getting close to people, heights

ASPIRATION/S: For the most part, Velkyn has always aspired to be strong. Unbreakable, even. He wants to carve a place for himself in the world than no one and nothing can touch. A place that no one can take from him. Though he’d never admit, he just wants somewhere or something to call home.

POSITIVE TRAITS: Dedicated, determined, strong-willed, protective (though he won’t admit it.), clever, justice-oriented.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: A liar, especially to himself and especially about feelings. Violent, quick-tempered, hostile, extreme aversion to unwarrented touching, sarcastic, cynical, emotionally unstable, merciless

MBTI: ISTP

ENNEAGRAM: Type 5 - The Investigator (With some tones of Type 8 in there but mostly Type 5)

ZODIAC: Capricorn

TAROT: 10 of Swords, The Tower (some pretty negative cards tbh)

TEMPERAMENT: Melancholic

SOUL TYPE/S: Hunter and Leader are nearly tied.

ANIMAL: Tested as a Badger, which was pretty accurate by the description, but I’ve always assosciated him with a wolf or an especially cranky house cat.

VICE/S: Wrath, above all else, he is wrath. He’s brimming with rage and pain and vengeance. His temper could burn a hole through any adversary. As for physical vices, he’s a bit of a gambler, but not really to excess.

FAITH: Atheistic. He never really developed an interest in any form of faith or religion. I anything matters the least to him, it’s that.

GHOSTS?: Yes. Very much so.

AFTERLIFE?: Not particularly. He finds the idea that people expect there to be a place for them to live after they’re done living a bit...entitled?

REINCARNATION?: He’s considered it, but it’s not really a strong belief of his.

ALIENS?: None of that concerns him much. He’s not in the habit of believing in anything intangible. It just doesn’t matter to him, since it doesn’t effect him.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: complete lawlessness and disregard for authority. Anarchy is best, as far he’s concerned. The only reason he’d pay attention to politics is if he was hired to kill a political figure.

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: He has been dirt poor for the majority of his life until he started taking on contracts. Money is nice to have, but he knows how to survive without it. Budgeting is something his foster father taught him to do well, but, if left without money, he has other ways to get what he needs.

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: Despite his cutthroat ruthlessness, he despises descrimination and opression, fully believing that no person should own another. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would use them. In his lower class position, he has faced things like abuse, distrust and the threat of slavery all his life. He isn’t able to just stand by and watch those things happen to others.

EDUCATION LEVEL: Very low in terms of academics. Has only a basic understanding of math and cannot read very well at all. His foster father only taught him as much as he could. His practical education has been quite extensive, however, as has his criminal education.

FAMILY.

FATHER: (Biological) Evard’rian, a Drow blacksmith, cruel, domineering, controlling. (Adoptive) Kilan, a Drow assassin, intelligent, witty, a master of stern-but-affectionate parenting. Never thought he would have children, but couldn’t bring himself to leave Vel to die as a child.

MOTHER: Maevaria, a Drow midwife, killed in a murder-suicide by Velkyn’s biological father. volitile emotions, but extremely loyal and protective of her son. To the extent where she steps in between Velkyn and the killing blow delivered by his father.

EXTENDED FAMILY: To his knowledge, no blood relations that he’s ever met, though I suppose the whole of the Assassin’s Guild qualifies.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER(S): Currently none.

NAME MEANING/S: Unknown. ‘Vel’ is apparently a Hindu name, meaning the divine javelin spear associated with War God Karthikeya. “Kyn’ is a Vietnamese name, meaning ‘the golden one’.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION: There really isn’t much. His gauntlets have a short but bloody history and he himself has quite the reputation in...certain circles.

FAVORITES.

BOOK: He doesn’t really have any. He’s never read a full book on his own and no one has ever read him one.

MOVIE: He’s the sort to like horror movies and psychological thrillers, though, outside those genre confines, his favorites would be things like V for Vendetta, Sin City, Seven, Blade Runner, etc.

DEITY: He got Hades on the test. Accurate

MONTH: No specific preference, just not anywhere from June through August, the weather is way too hot for him.

SEASON: Winter, as his body retains heat too easily. Summer heat is too much for him and he’s miserable all throughout it.

PLACE: He hasn’t really got one.

WEATHER: Storms. Rain, wind, thunder, lightning, all of it is thrilling for him and the feeling of rain on his skin is one of his favorites.

SOUND: His favorite sound is likely the wind throught the trees or the crackling of fire or the distant roll of thunder. Natural sounds that aren’t grating or too distracting.

SCENT/S: Even though he can’t read, he’s always liked the smell of ink on parchment. Also the smell of the ocean.

TASTE/S: He enjoys strong spices and salty foods. He likes some alcohols, particularly ale and rum. Tastes that hit hard and have a bit of kick to them are his preference. He doesn’t like most sweets but he does enjoy chocolate at times. He also enjoys the taste of rare meat.

FEEL/S: coarse fabrics as well as soft fabrics. cold glass or smooth-cut gems. The edge of a blade, good quality leather, gthe feeling of fingers or a brush through his hair. The feeling of raindrops on his skin.

ANIMAL/S: He likes most animals, particularly felines. He’s most definitely a cat-person, but horses are also some of his favorite creatures. Both animals are very intelligent and good company for him.

NUMBER: He doesn’t like numbers. Math is his least favorite thing.

COLOR: Dark colors, such as wine reds, black, deep blues, etc. as well as earthy colors like reddish-browns and greens and burnt oranges. He also likes seafoam green, though he is unsure why it appeals to him.

EXTRA.

TALENTS: He’s excellent at hand-to-hand combat, and ‘interrogation’. He’s delightfully efficient at killing people, if that counts? And making poisons. And singing, strangely enough. He has a very good voice.

BAD AT: Reading, math, keeping in control of his emotions, using ranged weapons of any kind (very nearsighted and doesn’t have/know he needs glasses), FEELING THINGS????? ADMITING FEELING????, Expressing any tenderness at all.

TURN-ONS: Trust, competence, a certain degree of cynicism, understanding, the willingness to see him as a person and not a weapon, honesty, experience, a healthy disregard for the law.

TURN-OFFS: Being looked down upon, being treated like he’s less than someone else, blind idealism, ‘white-knight syndrome’, disrespect of his abilities/being percieved as weak, sugar coating things.

HOBBIES: Taking walks, exploring, occassional gambling, BEING COMPLETELY RECKLESS, DESTROYING THE ESTABLISHMENT, getting into street/bar fights, stargazing

TROPES: Professional Killer, Combat Parkour, Close-Range Combatant, Hair-Trigger Temper, Insult of Endearment, Anti-hero, Hitman With A Heart, Street Smart, Rebellious Spirit

AESTHETIC TAGS: ;Aesthetic ( VELKYN ) Real simple tbh 

I will be making a seperate post for Kaladin’s since this is hella long!

[sku1lrose-blog]

I have the most boring job in the world. I am a homicide detective in a small town. But, I still like what I do for a living. I bring closure to poor people that have lost someone close by the hands of someone other. And I like that I don't have much work, since everyone knows each other, and it is a small town.

But that all changed one day.

Two couples moved in, in about a week time period. They got me curious, since I lived in a cop neighbourhood. And none of them were cops. Of course, as a good neighbour, I went over, and introduced myself. One couple, the Millers, they were amazed by the fact they have a neghbour that is a homicide detective. I think they were more amazed that there is a homicide detective in town, rather than me beng one. They had a child. A very young and nice little girl, around five or six years old. Her mommy always did her hair, and it managed to hold on throughout the day without falling apart. The afternoon I met them, the girl had a perfectly made little gold colored curls. She was very joyful, and always had a lot of things to ask, a lot of things difficult to explain to a five or six years old child.

Mr. Miller was a sales representative at a local market. He was just appointed there. He looked like, and sounded like he was a valedictorian student of menagement. His wife was a sales agent. She could sell any house for any price. And she finished suma cum laude from law school. Quite impressing, I say.

They were like the image of a perfect little family of three. Always smiling, never late. No criminal records to their names. Not interesting to me.

The other family, on the other hand, they got my attention as soon as I walked through their front door. They seemed to be in the middle of a fight when I knocked on their door. Name: Coopers. They stopped shouting as soon as they heard the first knock on the door. Mrs. Cooper opened the door like she was hiding a dead body behind her. Cautious, she has my full interest.

"Who are you?", she asked, "Are you a policeman?"

"Yes", I sad, "But I'm not here because of a report. I came to introduce myself."

She wanted to say something, but I interrupted her, "I am your neighbour, I live just a couple of houses down the road. Is this a good time for you, madam?"

"Oh yes, please come in", she said opening the door completely.

"Sorry for the mess", she added.

I had no problems with messes, I'v seen my fair share of those.

I met her husband, and their two kids.

They seemed like nice people, but they just, hopefully, had a misunderstanding about where to put a lamp. They seemed uncomfortable when I told them I was a homicide investigator. Both their son, and daughter, seemed fascinated, and they started asking me questions any teenager would. Like "Did you kill anyone?" or "Do you often see dead bodies?" or "Is it like in the movies?"

Of course it wasnt. Or at least I thought it wasnt.

It was a warm winter day. Actually weird for a town in the mountains. But it felt good.

I was at my desk, doing my paperwork for a fight I had to process, because of to drung truck drivers fighting in a bar over a parking space, or something. I was amazed how they could still talk, and stand, for that matter.

Then I got a phone call. It was the forest ranger. He was terrified, and all he could muster was "You need to see this, ASAP!" I went to the scene, and what I discovered, well, I can just say, that's not something you learn, and even see in the movies. But I wasn't horrified, not one bit. I felt something much more vile, and something I didn't know exixsted inside me for so long.

The sight was just pure gore. Intestines all over the place. It was in a small cottage on the outskirts of the forest. The ranger went there just to check the campers that were there over the night. Alas, he didn't find them. Instead, he found this "artistic" display of human intestine, blood, and body parts. The door was busted open, like they were knocked down by a bear. Only one problem, there are no bears in those forests, and in those mountains, for that matter.

I found what I was looking for, all those years. And I felt great. The thrill of the hunt. thirst for blood. Amazing. Exstatic. Beautiful. There were two campers last night, so I either have a suspect, or a witness. The only thing was, the other camper was missing. Then I get a call from the Millers.

Their little girl disappeared. They don't know how, since she was in her room, and everything was locked. That's a huge problem. For Christs' sake, they were in the safest part of the town. No bueno, amor.

"Maybe there's a connection there.", I thought to myself. "Worth checking, and doing some snooping around."

I asked the Millers did they hear any weird noise during the night, did they spot anything unusal that day, anyone suspicious.. They said no.

Funny how people when scared can remember the tiniest detalis. I'm now intrigued. So I start pulling some records from other towns they lived in, to see if I can maybe find anyone that would try to harm them in any way.

Nothing.

"That's weird", I thought, "No family, friends or enemies. Somethng smells there."

I started digging deeper. What I found horrified me. Mr. Miller had a twenty year old charge of raping, and murder of four girls. I arrested him and processed him, just as I would anyone. He was against it, and even threatened to sue me for diminishing his rights. All of that went away with just one sentence,

"If you are not who I think you are, then this will clear your name for good, since I think this will happen again. Just stay here for a few days, and if it happens again, I will make everything dissapear."

And I was right. It did happen again. Coopers daughter disappeared just two days later. Same report, same tone, same details.

What is going on? We all live in the most boring part of the most boring town in the World.

And, since I was the only one doing this case as an investigator, the rope around my neck was getting tighter by the minute.

It was dark. I was so tired, since I spent three days investigating, and searching for evidence, possible suspects, and even a lead to point me in any direction. I just knew I had to solve this mess.

And there, on the crossroads, I spotted something unusual. A swing on the outskirt of the forest, and a child swinging. It was really late, and dark, so I took my flashlight, and I went there to see why is a child still out so late.

As I approached the child, who didn't response to my question, all I could do was watch in both terror, and fascination the body of a five or six year old gold colored curls go near and far as the swing was swinging. Her entire abdomen was taken out, looked like it was ripped from her body, her throat slit wide open, and her eyes gouged out. I had a serial killer on my hands.

I heard a sound from the forest. That was the fastest I have ever drawn my pistol from my hip. I called it in, as I requested back up, and went into the forest. I saw a silhouette moving out and about. Circling around me. Measuring me. My life in danger, and I wasn't afraid. I was happy.

Pure art. It moved around like an animal, even though I knew it wasn't one.

"Show yourself, or I will shoot you!", I shouted, as I felt his gaze on me. No response. A cold grip on my shoulder. I turned around, and the sheriff was looking at me with horror on his face.

"You okay?", he asked.

"Take that crazy smile of your face, the parents are here."

I enjoyed that, he wasn't wrong. I am a predator, and now I am hunting a predator. I felt so alive I wanted to scream.

But that meant two things. I knew who the killer was, and I knew soon I will have the Coopers' daughter served to me in some wonderful display of intestines, blood and organs. Wait, organs? He's evolving. He wasn't satisfied with hs previous work. A true artist. Artist I had to catch as soon as possible. There was a young girl tied up, probably tortured and killed as I speak.

Abandoned buildings and houses. I need to check them all. That won't be easy, seeing how a lot of people moved out when the industry here went out of business.

Old industry bildings, all squeaky clean. Abandoned houses, most of them torn down by the city management. The only place left was abandoned hospital. There was a terrible fire there, I barely lived after that, since I was a patient there. A gunshot wount through my chest. Heist went wrong. It was either me, or an innocent woman. A sacrifice I was willing to make.

As I went through the abandoned building, and it's many rooms, I thought I heard a chain sound bellow me. I had to check, even though it was probably just a draft. But it wasn't. I found the Coopers little girl all tied up on a table that seems to have been used for lobotomising mentally ill people. I tried to call it in, but there was no signal.

Strange, it's near a radio tower.

I was all alone, with this terrified and tortured girl, I had to get out of there, ASAP.

Someone was watching me. I felt him again.

A loud bang. Splat!

That was the body of my second camper, torn to pieces, in a black garbage bag. He didn't like that one, but he still managed to make my shoes, pants, and shirt dirty ith blood. He was aiming to hit me.

"Everything is gonna be all right!", I said to the girl, "I'll be right back."

As I was searching for him, I just felt his chilling breath on the back of my neck, and the last thing I heard was "Hello brother, remember me?"

Darkness, pain. Then, a bright light. I woke up. In my bed. I ran straight to the Coopers, just to see their daughter open the door. She was uninjured. What a relief.

I raced down to the station, and started digging through my past. For some reason, I never could remember my parents, as well as my relatives, if I had them.

"Fire in hospital kills a family of three, only one child suruved."

I stared at the screen in awe. "Could this be? Is this true?"

It was summer. We were hunting. A piercing pain in my chest. After two weeks in a coma, I awake, only to see a nurse pushing me through the halls, trying to get me out.

I went back there. "I just want to talk!", a shout in the empty space, a shot in the dark. But it was my best shot.

I saw the silhouette approaching me. It was my own brother this entire time.

Scarred beyond recognition. But I knew him. We spent nine months inside our mothers womb.

"Why? Why did you kill those people? you could've just reached out to me."

"The thrill of the hunt, remember. What dad taught us. The day I almost succeeded. I shot you on purpose, little brother. The gun didn't go of by accident. We're the same."

"No! We aren't. I'm nothing like you!"

"Really? So, if I were to jump on you this second, you would let me kill you?"

"No. I would wound you, and then arrest you. I am nothing like you. You probably set this building on fire as well, just to kill me."

"You've got brains little brother. You always did. But you're a psychopath, just as me."

"This doesn't have to end this way. Just come with me calmly, and we will solve this."

"Farewell little brother."

A shot. Another one. The same piercing pain in my chest and stomach.

"Not this time!"

I shoot, as I'm falling to the groung. A loud bang, another, and another. A splat couple of seconds later.

Darkness. Light again. There's a nurse by my side. Sheriff behind her.

"You got him. He won't kill again. He's dead."

"God damn it!", I thought.

"That's great.", I said.

A couple of weeks later, I went to his grave.

"How does it feel? Torturing someone?", was the only question in my head.

I still don't know, but I am considering trying it some time.

That would sound very interesting. Trying to catch myself. Looking at my crime scenes, and my art.

Sounds like fun!