#volatile’s metal leather blood and sweat

[volatile95]

Very old sketch huh

Thank you my dear @marshalllir for all your support

[rinwellisathing]

You're Awful, I Love You: Part 5? 6?

Yeah, I'm losing count lol. I applied to join Ao3 as well though so this will also go there, but I will keep posting it here too. Thank you to everyone reading. It's been very cathartic writing Sentry since I put a lot of myself into him.

As always, trauma and violence content warning!

Enver Gortash/Trans male Tiefling Durge

As he walked down the stairs, he expected chanting, the reverent noises of a temple, but instead he heard clicking, whirring, the occasional hiss of steam releasing from a valve somewhere and as the torch light illuminated the path before him, he noticed that the walls and floor were smudged in places with oil rather than blood and he caught the scent of electricity heavy in the air. Strange. When the room finally loomed before him, he found himself in a strange sort of forge or maybe a workshop. It was impressive, wall to wall with machinery and parts. Strange contraptions whirred and buzzed around him and he smiled despite himself. It reminded him of the copper dreadfuls he was so fond of, the type of short novel you could buy on a street corner where a madman resurrects a corpse without magic or creates a clockwork army. He paused only briefly to admire the wonder of creation before his eyes fell on the seat at the work bench where the subject of his inspiration sat, dressed in a simple linen shirt and breeches, magnificent gauntlet replaced with thick leather gloves, those eyes that haunted his visions covered by a pair of thick artificer's goggles. Sentry slowly walked over to Gortash, the urge to grab him by the throat and see what his tools could do when set to flesh rather than iron was only slightly less than the urge to lean in and peek at what he was doing. The tiefling stepped back slightly when Gortash put up a hand, shooing him backwards. “I'm afraid I can't allow you any closer without the proper protection, my dear Executioner.” The Tyrant chastised him. “ As you can see, my work is quite volatile and an errant splash of chemicals or too great a spark could damage those eyes and I would hate to feel responsible for robbing an artist of his sight.”

“You're awfully calm for a man with an assassin in his seemingly secret workshop.” Sentry folded his arms somewhat petulantly across his chest, but he did step back regardless. The burn on his face aching as he thought of sparks and fire. “Perhaps if you were here to kill me, perhaps if we weren't among some of my best creations. But here and now? Why shouldn't I be calm? You've come to make good on that offer to paint my portrait.” Enver didn't even look up from his project, his tone smooth, pleasant, matter of fact. Sentry was silent a moment. This man was the only person short of his own family who didn't fear him. It was all at once frustrating, exciting, and perhaps a little arousing. “Fine, you're right. I need to paint you and I can't do it from memory, no matter how hard I try. It's vexing.”

Gortash smirked and set down his tools, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and then standing and raising his goggles. The grease and soot of his materials stained skin and cloth alike and sweat mingled with metal and electricity in the air as he closed the distance between Sentry and himself. “Emerald, not black.” Sentry commented. “Of course. All the writings on Bane said so.” “What?” “Your eyes.” The Tiefling explained, fighting the warmth he felt spreading across his cheeks and nose. Their bodies were so close, he could feel the warmth of someone who had worked hard enough to build up a sweat, laboring in a boiling workshop for hours. The scent was intoxicating. He shook his head and righted himself. “At any rate, do you want to be painted covered in filth or are you going to change?” The teasing glint in Gortash's eyes was not lost on Sentry as Bane's chosen took one step back. “Ah, of course not. Ever the professional, I see. Well, in that case come along, it's not an easy thing to find your way around here without a guide.” And with that, he started towards the stairs. Sentry hesitated a moment, taking a deep breath and nodding before gripping the strap of the rucksack on his back and following after his most gracious host. They ascended the stairs in silence until they were back in the empty room. Sentry watched as Gortash muttered a word and made a quick gesture at the wall that should have led into the house and a simple wooden door appeared. “After you, my dear Executioner.” He gestured through the door and Sentry stepped through, finding himself in a well appointed hall way. A deep red carpet ran through it and mahogany tables set with various busts or vases of flowers lined the walls. Portraits hung as well, ones he recognized as important figures in the city's history, interspersed here and there with famous Banites. Gortash followed him through the door and took the lead again, bringing him to a heavy oak door, but unlike the other doors, a golden demon head stood prominently on it. There was no knob or handle, simple that head set at the center. Sentry regarded it curiously as Gortash spoke to it in infernal, a word Sentry recognized, a simple one most tiefling's would, it meant 'open'. The room inside was magnificent, draped heavily in reds and golds, the materials the finest and most fashionable in the city. However, Sentry did notice that none of it particularly seemed personal. It was all what one would expect from nobility, set to the predilections and tastes of Baldur's Gate's high born without a hint to the dweller's own self. It was set dressing, he realized. He had seen Gortash's true inner sanctum, the workshop. Hell fire and metal, electricity and the spark of creation. This was for the patriars, for business associates. The heat returned to Sentry's cheeks as he wondered why he'd been allowed to see more.

“Rest here a while. I'll need to wash up, as you said, so my portrait will be perfect. After all, you're painting history, my friend!” Gortash's smile in this room was so different, like a politician. It fascinated the tiefling to see the room reflected in everything about him.

“Sure...You won't get all pissed if I sketch while I wait and some charcoal gets on your nice bedspread?” Sentry quirked a brow. “Of course not, dear Executioner, my home is your home.” The Tyrant smirked, gesturing a bit too widely to beg sincerity. “You can call me Sentry.”

“Alright, my dear Sentry, then.” And with that, Gortash left the room, the door shutting behind him with a click. Sentry tensed slightly at the click. Locked in. Locked in. Locked in. His charcoal scratched an ugly line down the sketchbook page and the image that began to form was of a small, dark, locked room and the small frightened child inside. Nausea began to sweep over him and he fought the urge to vomit. Locked in again.

[bluestmoons]

1. alias/name: Serena!

2. birthday: February 3rd!

3. zodiac sign: Aquarius! 

4. height: 5′8"? I literally don’t know I have no idea, but I’m tall-ish 

5. hobbies: RP!!! Umm,,, I don’t know what counts as hobbies, but! Playing Sims! Making up stories/characters! Learning German! Transcribing! Making friends!  

6. favorite colors: PINK, orange/gold, green, and purple! 

7. favorite books: I always say “my own” and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke so let’s go with that!! I haven’t read a real book in a bit though. 😭

8. last song listened to: “why do you feel so down?” by Declan McKenna ( JKLFDJAKLFDA ONE IN THE SAME... )

9. last film or show watched: Kimi no Suizou wo Tabetai! 

10. inspiration for muse: I think most people would just pick one muse but let me just go down the list and pick things that remind me of/inspire me about my muses and/or why I picked them up!  ELSA: Purples and blues, cold weather and forests, dizzying castles, tinkling bells, snow and ice ( duh?? ), icicles, Norwegian patterns, deep purple velvets, isolation, the scratch of a quill, and the taste of tears. She reminded me a lot of my childhood. ERK: Purple silk and burlap, old books, exhaustion, disgust, burning hands. He reminds me a lot of one of my husband’s characters.  ERIC: Bright white sand and green-blue seas, cream castles, the taste of salt and the feel of rope, wet dog smell, the deck of a ship at sea, sunlight, parenthood. I love his goofy light-heartedness.  FINIS: Feathers, sheer clothing, long hair, tears caught in eyelashes, sad arias, inky quills against parchment, repetitive motions, purple flowers, a broken body that never shatters, fire, bloody throats, overwhelming sorrow, the concept of immortality, the feel of grass between toes, small boxes, cages, deep breaths, immeasurably empty/lonely, the depths of the ocean, moons!!, comets, blue-white, gray. I’m literally in love with her, so.  ICHIGO: Serious focus, the scrape of metal, uncontainable emotion, logic, hair clips and short hair, dark blue and green, obsessive thought, quick footsteps, position and pain of leadership, strawberries and the number 15, sweet tastes, ache of desperation, regrettable words yelled in the heat of the moment, small stature. I mostly picked her up in step with Kristopher picking up Goro but I love my little kiddo so much... so short, so powerful...  ITSUKI: Nice cologne, athleticism, nice big watches, subterfuge, smells, loss of personal space, pretty boys, lightning/static, unrequited longing, eyes closed, green and hazel, basil, silent admiration, Othello. I genuinely picked him up the moment I realized he was an empath because I have a type. :,)   IZETTA: Nomadic existence, bare and dirty feet, the smell of sweat and hard work, loud compassion, hope, unevenly cut hair, red and gold, cheap clothing, white costumes, early rising, warm metal, inferiority complex, total devotion and dedication. I knew I needed to write her so I could steal some of her positivity...  IZUMI: High fashion, business casual, stockings and high heels, earrings and nose rings, frost, dual-bladed naginata, the shine of metal in the dark, sold souls, sibling love, obsession with perfection, fish tanks, a home without any distinct smell, self-imposed isolation, fluorescent lighting, purples and blues. I don’t know, Izumi is one of my favorite characters from Kyoukai no Kanata, I always knew I had to pick her up.  LEONIE: Sun shining on dry ground, the feel and breath of the earth, refined chaos, green tea, large vocabularies, strange speech patterns, dry wit, sons, secrets, old books with a flower bookmark, the muddy bottom of a lake, frogs, red fingers and cheeks, old swords, dirty gold embellishments, empty and untouched rooms, freckles!!!!, spinning sword moves, honor, old armor, repeating words said just earlier, unflattering and unfashionable garments, blonde braids, running away running away running away. She’s an OC, so!! I fell in love with her on my own!! I decided to pick her up after Kristopher and I were discussing the Reed mom and I realized oh God, I have a whole idea... MIRAI: Pinks and golds, blues and blacks, vintage chic ( “grandma style”, as I lovingly call it ), red frames, serious expressions, overt politeness, depression, bandaged wrists and palms, gold rings, bloody hands, the taste of iron, burning hot blood, monster/demons, unpleasantness, distaste and disgust, starvation, empty shitty apartments, bonsai, gardening, social media and anon hate, sacrifice, orphan, self-loathing. God I just... I’d die for her okay... I... wow... I gathered the courage to pick her up after I loved her for years.  SAKURA: Toddler clothing style on a high schooler, cooking, food, sleep, oversized flannels, tired eyes and cheeks, aromantic, succinct speech, big scarves, wide stripes, lime green and red, crumbs, bandaids, bag like a mom’s purse ( full of napkins and tissues and food and keys and totally unorganized ), memories, forgiveness, sarcasm, bells, kicking, sisterhood. MMMMM I LOVE MY QUIET SLEEPY DAUGHTER!!! I picked her up because I just... vibe with her energy, I love her.  SERRA: PINKS and whites, cleanly pressed clothing, loud echoing voice, devoted and steadfast religion, bright white magic, attention-seeking, loneliness, nunneries, rosaries, The Sound of Music tbh, glitter, make-up, pigtails, tears over a chipped nail, devotion to valuing oneself, dedication to becoming the best, volatile emotions, absolute joy or unbridled anger, cherry blossom perfume, rosy red joints, stringy hair, memorization of etiquette, adventure-lust, friend-seeking. I love her so much -- she reminds me of Willow, and when I saw her on my replay of the game, I burst into tears.  URSULA: Blacks and deep purples and blues, fine wine, tight fabric, velvet skin, sharp and entrancing gaze, crows, black feathers, leather gloves, mocking simper, blood red lipstick, neutral colored fashion, lies, sharp perfume, manipulation, gold chains, the click of high heels, short dark hair, shadowy silence. I made this blog for Ursula! I knew I could play her and Kristopher wanted to write opposite of her so I threw her out here! 

11. story behind url: The original thought was that I’d be here way less frequently than my other blogs. Once every blue moon I’d check in on here. Hence, bluestmoons! 

tagged by: @myloyalty​ ( thank you my love!!! ) 

tagging: okay I know this is a copout but I spent so long doing 10,,, please,,, just steal it, I can’t look at this anymore, JKFLAJK 

[vuulpecula]

      Nights like these, when the moisture and heat of the day filled the night with thick humidity, always brought them inside to the salvation of a cold beer and airconditioning. The early evening had gone over well enough. Mostly regulars dotted the bar stools, but as eight o’clock pooled into nine the sound of engines down the roadway cut over even the most. The dogs started howling. 

      One by one they entered, shedding their leather jackets with boisterous grunts while calling for the first round. It was an eerie sight, seeing all those canines hanging off the backs of the worn chairs. Fox remained behind the bar while the others who worked there, those deemed tougher, began ferrying out the pitchers. Cleaning the inside of one of the glasses, she watched their pretty, relaxed faces with envy. Vipers ready to bite at the heels of hounds at the first sign of a threat. They received compliments with sneers, never blushed, never found their mouths lacking the right words to say to get them to stop. Unlike Fox who would bashfully nod her head and offer up a weak thank you in a voice too quiet for anyone to pick up the Slavic accent that dripped over the words. The others, her friends and fellow waitresses, nicknamed her Candy for she was too damn sweet and knew how to make everyone smile, but that wasn’t all. Fox knew how to clean a wound with vodka, extract bullets from bone, and stitch up just about every type of scratch, slash, and gash that made it into the backroom of the bar. Returning her attention to the glass, she hoped she would not have to this night. 

      The night continued on with little to no issues, only one patron seemed to be giving them a problem and the women already had a tradition to deal with his sort. ‘Go get sticky, Candy,’ they grinned at her and Fox, feeling rather devilish, aimed to delight. Assholes who didn’t tip would be forced to whether they knew it or not. Pickpocketing, another of her laundry list of skills she could not put on her resume. What she found in the pocket of the man however was not a wallet, nor a wad of cash or the thin edge of a card. No, inside his pocket she extracted a thin column of cold metal. All her blood sank into her feet, though she fixed the man with a pretty smile as she took away his empty glass to hide her real reason for getting close. Without stopping she dropped off the empty glass and grabbed up another pitcher. The others watched with worried curiosity as Fox made her way between tables, ignoring touches and jeers until she was taking a seat before the leader himself. A gruff, fearsome-looking man his men called The Hound. Firearms were prohibited within the establishment, ( too many volatile personalities all packed together ), so the silencer could only mean one thing. It was not hard to put the pieces together -- who else within the four walls was notorious enough to deserve an assassination attempt? 

      Scared fingers shaking as she set down the pitcher, sloshing beer across the table. Fox kept her eyes low, her back to the rude stranger with the gun to hide the item she placed atop the wasted beer. “Look at me, do not look at him.” She knew her straight shot across the room had not gone unnoticed and if he was any degree of paranoid, the stranger would be sweating. “I think that man is here to kill you and I do not know if he is alone.” 

@scarredhound​ ❤’d for a starter.

[thethespacecoyote]

Some brief injury fic just to get back in the groove of that sort of thing. Read on ao3 here too!

As they walked through the open hangar of the reclaimed Imperial base, heading back towards the transport waiting to carry them to the Finalizer, Kylo couldn’t help but observe the strict, measured strides of his co-commander as he led the way a couple paces ahead of him and the rest of the troopers.

The general always exuded this aura of invulnerability, but different than the kind Kylo imagined he possessed according to the average rank and file. Whereas they must’ve perceived him as too powerful, too volatile to ever be touched, injured, or killed, the reaction to Hux was always more akin to a guarded respect of some kind of inaccessible object. Immaculate to the point of inhuman, but less like a droid and more like a doll—a sneering, supercilious doll, with pale skin and hair sculpted so rigidly one could still see the teeth of the comb. It was an image Kylo had imprinted in his mind from the very moment he first met Hux, one he’d never seen waver in all the time he’d known him.

That image had shattered into pieces the moment the explosion that consumed their transport shot a wicked lance of shrapnel through the air and straight through the general’s gut.

Now Hux lies on the ground, half-braced up against a wall, shuddering with the distant impacts of blasters and bodies as the remaining contingent of troopers fan out before them to fend off the ensuing attack and cover their two commanders. Kylo knows he should probably join them, as his powers and battle expertise would surely bring the skirmish to a quick close, but instead he finds himself kneeling at the general’s side with one had braced against his shoulder and the other hovering nervously over his wound.

The shrapnel’s still stuck through Hux’s body, sunk and half melted into the wall behind him. Dark, glistening red steadily spreads through the black material of his uniform and splatters up against the shaft of the mangled metal. Hux trembles all over, his face beet red with exertion and pain, eyes manically wide and teeth gritted so tightly it’s a marvel they don’t shatter. The usual, slick-backed style of his hair has fallen completely apart from the impact and injury, ginger strands plastered against his sweaty, tense temples.

“Hold still,” Kylo says without thinking, as he carefully touches just above where the shrapnel pierces Hux’s middle. The general snorts angrily through his bloody teeth, eyes narrowing at him.

“A-Are you stupid? W-Where am I going to go, I’m pfaasking impaled to the wall!” Hux spits a bit of red down his lips, but somehow continues speaking, as if that doesn’t phase him. “On...second thought...perhaps I’ll take a jog …”

“General, don’t speak. Don’t waste your strength,” Kylo tries, though he really just wants Hux to be quiet . He’s trying to figure out how best to tend to the general’s wound, should they have to flee or otherwise travel quickly to a new rendezvous point. But Hux won’t let up. Maybe speaking, berating Kylo, helps him deal with the pain and shock of the injury.

“I’m going to try to take this out.” He taps lightly against the shrapnel. Hux’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head.

“Are you mad...? You take it out, I’ll bleed to death in this miserable p-place!” He moans, stomach heaving pointedly around the wound. Kylo sighs through his mask.

“That’s not going to happen. I’ll use the Force.”

Hux laughs hoarsely and rolls his eyes.

“Of course...the Force ...surely the Force can heal wounds and resurrect the dead, yes? And perhaps rain c-confections down upon the earth—”

“I can at least hold back the bleeding once I remove it.”

Hux blinks, looking genuinely surprised.

“You...you can?”

“Theoretically, yes.”

“T-Theoretically?” Hux’s eyes bulge as he weakly shakes his head. “No, get me a damned medic, I won’t let you experiment on me like this!”

Kylo has never run into a man who could continue to run his mouth with such vehemence while he was— uh , run through. Perhaps if the shrapnel had pierced Hux a little bit higher he’d be too busy dealing with the blood filling his lungs to berate Kylo as he tries to save his life.

“There’s no telling when a medic will arrive. Trust me, General.” Kylo knows that’s a bit of a tall order, considering their relatively hostile history. Hux seems to realize this and scowls, but his expression overall looks a little more somber. He twitches painfully, fist clenching on his thigh.

“Stars, if the last thing I see in this life is your ghastly f-face, Ren, I’m going to haunt you to the end of your miserable days…”

Kylo thinks it best to bite his tongue on the fact that Force-Nulls like Hux aren’t particularly likely to return as a ghost. That will probably only enrage him further, and he needs to focus if he’s going to withdraw the shrapnel enough for a medic to properly repair later, once it’s safe. The sounds of blasters and further explosions still sound around them, making him wonder if he’ll even have to carry Hux, on top of all of this.

“You’ll keep still then?” Kylo whispers, summoning the Force to his fingertips and watching Hux’s face. The general presses his bloodied lips tightly together, tilting his head back until his skull rests against the unsteady wall. After a moment of harsh breathing through his noses, he gives one, terse nod. As if reclaiming a bit of his lost stoicism, restoring Kylo’s belief that maybe they’d get out of this intact, that everything could go back to how it was before.

Summoning all of his focus and strength, Kylo takes the shrapnel in his invisible grasp and carefully starts to draw it out. He stops with Hux hisses through his teeth, a little thread of blood dripping over his lips, but after a moment the general nods sharply to continue. A sharp screech of metal cuts through the din around them as Kylo pulls the other end out of the wall, carefully sliding it through the meat of Hux’s body.

The general’s fist trembles on his thigh, clenched so tightly Kylo thinks the leather might rip at the seams. Somehow, Hux’s cheeks have reddened even darker than before, tendons in his neck straining above the collar of his uniform as the slick sounds of metal on ragged flesh reach both of their ears. Kylo, who has heard the dying gurgles of hundreds of slain men, enemies and allies alike, finds it unsettling, especially as he starts to pull the other end back through Hux’s body.

Sweat trickles down his forehead as he feels Hux’s blood rush in to fill the wound, inhaling sharply as he halts it with more precision in the Force than he’s ever had to muster before. It’s more strenuous than he imagined—especially considering Kylo has dragged fleeing speeders out of the air with relative ease before. His fingers tremble, those of his other hand carefully manipulating through the air as the warm, bloodstained shaft of the shrapnel starts to rise up out of the general’s body with surgical slowness. Hux keeps his eyes tightly closed, refusing to look downwards, his face erratically twitching with pain.

Kylo finds himself leaning in, the mouthpiece of his mask very nearly brushing up against Hux’s flushed cheek. It’s the closest they’ve ever been to one another, close enough that Kylo can examine the finer details in Hux’s face, even as he concentrates on keeping the general’s spilled blood at bay. His eyelids are almost translucent, threaded with little purple veins and tipped in fine, metallic eyelashes that somehow have kept their luster despite the trauma of the whole ordeal. Kylo wants to keep better track of little things like this, after he gets Hux somewhere safe.

As the shrapnel shifts through Hux’s insides it grows more difficult, the extent of the injury finally becoming morbidly clear to Kylo, but he’s determined not to let the general’s life slip through his fingers. Hux has put a shred of trust in him. He needs to do this.

Finally, the jagged end of the metal pulls out of Hux’s stomach, and as soon as it’s free Kylo forces invisible pressure upon the yawning hole, as well as throughout the wound to hold the general’s innards in place. More sweat trickles down his quivering face as he concentrates, and soon enough something warm and painful bursts in his nose to join it, trailing down over his trembling lips.

Hux whimpers at the loss of the shrapnel inside him, undoubtedly in pain from the injury, and if Kylo had the spare strength he might try to delve into the general’s mind and ease his discomfort himself, but all his focus is consumed with staving off Hux’s bleeding. More blood streams from his nose as his head pulses, unused to such delicate applications of the Force, but he endures it to keep his general living.

Gradually the conflict, both within and outside of the base, starts to ebb away, and for a moment Kylo wonders if he’s merely fading out of consciousness before fresh reinforcements, led by the implacable Captain Phasma herself, sweep through and happen upon the their blood-streaked commanders. Even with a proper medic now on hand to tend to Hux’s wounds and prepare him for transport, Kylo keeps his focus even as he trembles on his feet and blackness eats at the corners of his vision. He manages to make it on the rescue vessel, keeping to Hux’s side until they reach the small medical quarters, at which point he finally lets go and—with the sudden release of pressure—loses consciousness, nearly slamming his helmet against the edge of Hux’s gurney as he collapses to the ground.

The hum of engines briefly wakes Kylo from his daze.

His head throbs, and the white lights above hurt his eyes and forces him to turn to the side. He realizes distantly that someone has taken off his helmet, and feels a twitch of anger and shame at that fact, but he’s far too weary to exact retribution at the moment.

When Kylo flutters his eyes open again, away from the intruding light, they fall upon a second bed right beside his, upon which the body of General Hux rests. His heart leaps briefly into his throat, before falling in relief as soon as he notices the steady movement of Hux’s chest. His middle is swathed in heavy medical dressing, leaving Kylo to wonder how long he’d been out, and if they’d had to immerse Hux in any bacta before lying them beside one another.

But exhaustion creeps around him, chasing away his brief wisp of conscious thought. For now, Kylo lets it retake him, and falls back asleep.

He’ll have to preserve his strength for when Hux wakes, after all. The general will certainly have some very choice words for him then.

[the-iron-hound]

The new weapons of the world.

The heat of the forge was sweltering in that stone enclosed hut. How Dwarves saw fit to keep closed roof forges baffled the Gilnean smith. Hot or not, he worked through the discomfort. The opening that had been set was ground down to be flush with the rest of the blade-to-be he had big plans for this weapon, provided that it would work that is.

He pulled himself away from the hammer and anvil for a moment, the tang end of the blade was in the hot coals. Opening a small wooden cabinet, there was a small golden, blue, and white glowing sliver of metal. At least he thought it was metal, this sliver seemed to react similarly to metal. Returning to the forge Dylan put the piece down in with the sword as well.

It was small so Dylan thought he could pull the shard and weapon out at the same time, but unfortunately, the shard hadn’t reacted even a little to his attempts to heat it to malleability. He had decided to let the blade return to its forged black appearance, and now he went behind to some of the air controls, and turned them up higher, the fires in the forge starting to roar and heat even more.

The forge house felt like an oven as the flames rose in the forge. Carefully held in the tongs, Dylan eased the shard into the flame, waiting about a moment before he put the steel into it, he made sure to be extra careful, as the extra heat could burn the steel, or outright melt it if he wasn’t careful. Using his tongs Dylan removed the shard and the blade at the same time.

The extra heat had done it, the shard had looked to be ready to be hammered, its color and glow had stayed, but the patterns that shifted had become much more active, and the glow was much more substantial. Dylan placed the heated portion of the sword on the anvil, and the shard in the forged opening.

Nervous, sweating a little more profusely, unsure that if he hammered it, would it explode? This was the blood of a titan, could it be volatile? Toxic? Would it just not budge regardless of force? It was something he needed to try for himself.

Bringing the hammer down on the shard, the anvil rang out with a loud ping, no boom, no hiss of toxic gas, it seemed there was nothing too dangerous at all from this process. Lucky him that he didn’t accidentally destroy the forge house, and himself for that matter, in this little test. He continued to hammer it down until the shard was formed to be snug with the opening made in the blade.

Perhaps forge welding the parts to one another? Would that work? Could these two metals even successfully bond? Dylan applied the flux to the exterior of the guard area of the blade, and returned it to the flames. Dylan removed it, and hammered them into one another on the forge rather forcefully this time, and then allowed it to cool slightly.

“Two more runs. That should do it.” He said, working through the processes two more times. He’d done it, the once rough shard had been bonded to the steel part, the forge weld almost looked like there were veins of this metal coursing power through the steel. Only a few more steps and it should be ready for tempering.

After normalizing the blade he heated the weapon one last time to a soft orange glow, and dunked the blade in warm oil. The moment of truth was soon upon him. He tested the steel for the flex and retention, it seems he’d tempered the weapon correctly. He gave it a rather severe flex, and it returned to its straight intention. 

Back to the grindstone, literally, he was using the fine grained wheel to grind away all of the coal and oil residue, the sword being brought up to a shining steel, with those gold, blue, and white glowing veins coursing from the shard, the heart of the weapon, so to speak, anyone could see that this weapon was powerful magically, what its true effects were would be unknown until it’s used.

The final touches were done, the crossguard was hammered on tight, the handle was burnt on to be snug, and the peened pommel was added. Finally a clean and fresh black leather grip was added around the grip, and was wrapped tightly so that the adhesive could set properly. Once the string was removed and the blade sharpened, the blade could be declared complete. A matching black scabbard was added to the weapon, and one final touch came on. A small leather lanyard with the brooch that Misery had made was attached to the end of the scabbard. He had figured that was as good as any place as any to place it, as on his apron, it would dirty too easily, on his clothes or armor was too flashy for him, but on such a beautiful work of art that this weapon had become, that was a perfect spot for him to put such an equal work of art.

Looking at the blade, Dylan almost finally understood why some people name their weapons. Never having made such a masterpiece in his career, he decided that just as a painting would, the weapon must have a title. “The Wolf’s Heart.” He uttered, putting the weapon into the scabbard. Dylan worked to close up and extinguish the forge, his work being done for the night.

(@iron-blood for the quick mention)

[stxrkillcr-blog]

RULES !!  Post a song that reminds you of your muse and then tag 6 people whose songs you want to see!

tagged by: @stillsolo

i come with knives - iamx

I always feel like this song was playing when he first became General, this is just such a fitting song for his rise to power. Every time I hear it I picture him making the speech before using Starkiller Base for the first time.

It was kinda hard to pick between this, Don’t Mess With Me by Temposhark or Volatile Times also by IAMX.

Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele

The paradox or our minds Too much to believe, too much to deny You fool me again to quiet my pride But I’m a human, I come with knives

I never promised you an open heart or charity I never wanted to abuse your imagination

I come with knives I come with knives And agony To love you

Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele In der mitternacht.

The monotony And the rising tide Is under my skin, is crawling inside Adrenaline to rewire my mind I'm only human, I come with knives

I never promised you an open heart or charity I never wanted to abuse your imagination

I come with knives I come with knives And agony I come with knives I come with knives To love you And agony To love you With agony

I come with knives With agony To love you

Kinder und sterne küssen und verlieren sich Greifen leise meine hand und führen mich Die traumgötter brachten mich in eine landschaft Schmetterlinge flatterten durch meine seele In der mitternacht [x2]

In der mitternacht [x2]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

[ COLORS ]  red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. grey green.

[ ELEMENTS ]   fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canine. scars (mental; physical). scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing.tattoos.

[ WEAPONS ]    fists. sword. dagger. spear. arrow. hammer. shield. whips. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pistol. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. words. bat.

[ MATERIALS ]   gold. silver. platinum. brass. copper. lead. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ]    grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. river. meadow. lake. forest. desert. tundra .savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ]   lions. wolves. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. mice. lizards. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. rats.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ]  sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. bread. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. condensed milk. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. rice. ambrosia. soup. stew. whiskey.

[ HOBBIES ]    music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. meditation. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. cassettes. piano. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. bells. percussion. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. mahjong. motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ]    lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet.rings. pendant. hat. ballcap. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. robes. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ]    balloons. bubbles. cityscape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. grief. happiness. optimism. realism. pessimism. legacy. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

TAGGED BY : @stillsolo

you can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to. put your mp3 player, itunes,spotify, etc. on shuffle & list the first 10 songs & then tag 10 people, no skipping !

REPOST & DON’T REBLOG !

1. Let’s Dance - David Bowie 2. Old Money - Lana Del Rey 3. Goner - Twentyone Pilots 4. Whatsername - Green Day 5. Six Shooter - Queens of the Stone Age 6. Flaws - Bastille 7. Goodnite, Dr. Death - My Chemical Romance 8. Chicken On A Stick - Justin Hurwitz 9. Private Fears In Public Places - Front Porch Step 10. Buddy Holly - Weezer

TAGGED BY: @stillsolo

CHARACTER STRENGTHS.

RULES:    bold  the  characteristics  that  apply  to  your  muse !    Tag  your  friends !

Tagged by: @stillsolo

adaptable |  adventurous  |  affectionate |  ambitious  |  artistic  |  athletic  |  assertive  |  beautiful  | brave |  charming  |  clever  | compassionate |  confident  | considerate |  cooperative  |  courteous  |  creative  | curious  |  decisive  |  dependable  |  determined  |  diplomatic |  easy - going  | enthusiastic |  fair  |  fashionable  | forgiving  |  friendly  |  fun - loving  |  funny |  generous  |  gentle  | hard - working |  heroic |  honest  |  hopeful  |  humble  |  imaginative  |  incorruptible |  intelligent  |  intuitive  |  inventive  |  jocular  |  leader  | lively  |  loving  |  loyal  |  merciful  |  musical  |  observant  |  open - minded |  optimistic  |  organized  | outgoing  | passionate  |  patient  |  playful  |  polite  | popular  |  practical  |  resourceful  |  self - assured | selfless  |  sensible  |  sincere  |  strong  |  studious  |  thoughtful  |  tough  | versatile |  warm - hearted  | well - intentioned |  wise  |  witty

CHARACTER FLAWS. RULES:    bold  the  characteristics  that  apply  to  your  muse !   Tag  your  friends ! 

Tagged by: @stillsolo

absent-minded  |  abusive  |  addict  |  aggressive  |  aimless  |  alcoholic  |  anxious  |  arrogant  | audacious  |  bad liar |  bigmouth  |  bigot  | blindly obedient  |  blunt  |  callous  |  childish  | chronic heroism |  clingy |  clumsy  |  cocky  |  competitive  |  corrupt  |  cowardly  |  cruel  | cynical  |  delinquent  |  delusional  |  dependent  |  depressed  |  deranged  |  disloyal  |  ditzy  | egotistical | envious  |  erratic  |  fickle  | finicky |  flaky  |  frail  | fraudulent  |  guilt complex | gloomy  |  gluttonous  |  gossiper  |  gruff  |  gullible  |  hedonistic  |  humorless  |  hypochondriac | hypocritical |  idealist  |  idiotic  |  ignorant  |  immature  | impatient |  incompetent  |indecisive | insecure | insensitive  |  lazy  |  lewd  |  liar  |  lustful  |  manipulative  |  masochistic | meddlesome  |  melodramatic  |  money-loving |  moody |  naive  |  nervous |  nosy  |  ornery  | overprotective  |  overly sensitive  | paranoid  | passive-aggressive | perfectionist  | pessimist |  petty  |  power-hungry  |  proud  |  pushover  | reckless  |  reclusive  | remorseless  | rigorous  | sadistic  |  sarcastic  |  senile  |selfish  | self-martyr |  shallow  |  sociopathic |  sore loser  | spineless  |  spiteful  |  spoiled  | stubborn |  tactless  |  temperamental |  timid  |  tone-deaf  | traitorous  |  unathletic  |  ungracious  |  unlucky  |  unsophisticated  |  untrustworthy  | vain | withdrawn | workaholic

Repost! Don’t Reblog! Last Movie I Watched: – Moana Last Song I Listened To: Breezeblocks - alt-J Last book I read: – In Fury Born - David Weber Last Thing I Ate: French Fries If You Could Be Anywhere Right Now:  Right where I am, relaxed in bed. Fictional Character You Would Hang Out With For A Day:  Only one? Wade Wilson, he’s a riot I’d have so much fun even if I’d probably get dragged into a shit ton of trouble. Tagged by: @stillsolo

Pick any of them and tag me! I love reading about your muses. tagging: @legatumiism @whatyoustartcd @kyloren-sithlord @serratedlight @smugglingscavanger @theslavewhoranaway @thedestrcyer @night-vale-jace @nightvalecoroner @iblamethatguy and anyone who wants to do it