xcursedwithawesome - Tumblr blog

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    ★❚ “Ohoho, hell yeah! Speed of light, baby! And video? Man, these monsters won’t know what hit ‘em. All right, who’s joining Team Dynamite With A Laserbeam? ... Or maybe just Team Smoketastic.”

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Thanks for all of the interest in event threads! I’ll get back to plotting and responses as soon as possible, hopefully this evening and tomorrow. Then I’ll be out of town this weekend for a convention. 

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First thing that popped into my head when Delsin said he’d take him for a sightseeing tour…

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     ★❚ This doesn’t feel much different from Seattle with all of its the D.U.P and media labeling conduits as terrorists. Since being thrown into Hive City, he’s seen nothing but uproars about people feeling ‘unsafe’ and attacked by the ‘powered people’. At first, it sounded like just another way to make conduits look bad. Now it’s starting to sound more like a bigger issue than his kind. 

            Sure enough, the protesting mob is quick to cast a stone at him when they see smoke and embers rolling off of his arms. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.

        “Outsider?” He snorts derisively, beginning to chuckle. Seattle or not, when has he ever taken this criticism seriously? “What is this, junior high and I’m the awkward geek kid--”

        The voices turn violent before the wisecrack can even leave his tongue. One man throws a sign down to fire an icy pike from his hand that surges past him when he throws himself out of the way, plunging into the brick building behind his head.  

      “Holy sh-! Talk about seriously agro’d!” Staggering to his feet, he scrambles for cover behind the nearest car. “Whoa, when I get my power back, I want what you have!” Antagonizing them isn’t going to help the situation. But one thing is for certain; he can’t let these powered bullies just outright kill people. Now, if I was a makeshift weapon, where would I be...?

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This is going to be Delsin’s first event, and he wants to be a hero. Please like this post if you’re interested in working with him to keep people safe, you want your character to be saved by him, or you want to beat his ass because he’s an annoying good guy. He can’t do much right now but damn if he doesn’t try.

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        “Whoa, I’ve seen like so many hero costumes. Eugene is going to be so jealous I made it to Comic Con without him.”

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        “Chain letters? First of all, that’s unbelievably lame. You can take away my powers and chain, but you can’t just count on me not to find a substitute in a city as big as this.”

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apocalypse party

    ❚ ☣  For the past week, headlines and news feeds have kept up with the new destruction rampaging through Seattle. It started with three escapees and the Department of Unified Protection locking down the entire area. They raised blockades, concrete spires and did nothing but terrify the public with their relentless surveillance and imprisonment of suspected “Bio-terrorists”, while hunting down the real ones. 

    Delsin is figuring out how enthralling it is to flirt with danger, fighting the oppressors with his own abilities. What a rush, feeling their heads being crushed and incinerated between his hands. Not even their concrete could stop him from reducing their bodies to ash. It isn’t enough, despite all of Reggie’s warnings and protests. Leave it to big brother to worry too much, but he wouldn’t be suffocated by it. I want more! Of course, he had another reason to want the other conduits’ powers, but mostly because it gave him new tricks to throw at the D.U.P. 

    Lucky for him, there’s an abundance of rooftop satellites and television screens for him to drain. Conveniently close to most of their command centers. Advertisements flash across the animated screen connected to a satellite, until it flickers under his touch. Electricity cracks from the dish as he drains pixelated blue data into his arm, transforming it into his own form of video power. Thanks, Teen Angel. He managed to coax Eugene out of his shell so they could put some serious hurt on the Akurans and their D.U.P allies, but he is still hesitant when Delsin hits him up for another invitation to kick the dupes out of the Lantern District.

    “What, you busy with your D&D group? Whatever, you’re missin’ out, bro. If you’re not up for playing more Angels and Demons with the DUPs, I’ll just take back the districts by myself.” 

  Not to mention scoring some blast cores. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he aims a sardonic smirk towards the enormous spire stabbing out of the ground. Surrounded by more concrete structures and guarded by a group of armed agents. As well as two helicopters. 

  "Time to whip out the party favors--”

  Swinging his palm forward, five enormous, pixelated swords erupt from his arm. Flashy red lights leap and buzz around him and the weapons as they lock onto the first helicopter, exploding on impact before it can even have lift off. Smoke and fire leap from the destroyed aircraft as the second one starts up the engine. With a thrilled bark of laughter, the delinquent conduit boldly leaps off the edge of the building, plummeting towards the men on the ground. Gunshots fire off while stronger agents manifest their own form of power, sending chunks of concrete his way. 

  The fight rages on with concrete shrapnel flying around, civilians abandoning their cars and fleeing the area. Winged demons descend on his command, tearing into armor with their hooked talons and ripping into their opponents. Only then, would he see their true colors. Even the D.U.P, with as much harsh training and combat they’ve been through, can be scared into submission. When nothing but corpses litter the area, two remaining agents throw their guns down and put his arms up, begging to be spared. Begging not to be ruined and reduced to nothing, after coming into this city and fucking up everything.  

  His lip curls into a nasty sneer as he saunters on over. 

“Should’ve said please.”

  A demonic red arm, much like the ones attached to his flying friends, manifests around his own when he swings forward to fling one man screaming off of the spire and into the street below. Wihout missing a beat, and still grinning, he turns to thrust the arm through the next man’s chest. Then, nonchalantly flicking his arms and rolling his shoulders, he proceeds to take out the glowing, electrified pads on each pillar until the blast core in the center is forced to pop out. 

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You have fleas.

How fast can you run when I’m firing lasers at your feet?

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Give me the K, angel lady.

Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number

      He’s not a demon, but he pretends– no, not so much pretends as obfuscates, tries to hide what he really is behind neon-bright embers and scarlet-winged summons who carry out his whims at a snap of his fingers. Did it not all make her viciously, teeth-grindingly angry, it might frighten her. That kind of misdirection in the (obviously) wrong hands could do a lot of harm. Could cause a lot of panic, incite a lot of things that she’d rather not think about.       He laughs at her when she snaps at him about it, waving off her concerns with a sneer, even as she grabs him by the lapels of that stupid jacket and slams him against the nearest solid surface.       Again that mocking sneer, teeth stark against tan skin and she growls, fingers tightening in the fabric–       –the next thing he knows, his hand is in her hair, her mouth against his, her lip bleeding from a harsh nip of his teeth and with a snarl she shoves him up against the side of the water tower harder and shoves her tongue into his mouth, reminding him that he can’t just overpower her. Especially not that easily. 

21. And then there’s tongue. 

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      STRIKE A MATCH & I’LL BURN YOU TO THE GROUND                  you gotta fire up, you gotta let go, you never know the top till you get too low    

                ❝ Well, you seem to be getting the hang of your ... new symptoms. ❞                 ❝ Right? Of course, the only downside being that, uh ... nope,                          can’t think of anything. This is pretty freakin’ awesome. ❞ 

                [ multi verse ☣  multi-fandom ☣ 10+ yrs writing ☣ mature ]

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I JUST, REALLY WANTED TO SEE AND APPRECIATE THIS SIDE BY SIDE. 

The drastic changes between Hero!Delsin and Infamous!Delsin. Just from the dark shadows done on Delsin’s face, he look extremely menacing, and more sinister. I just really, really love this. (I also brightened the Infamous one a bit to see it better. ;o; )

{ Hero Delsin Credit } -- { Infamous Delsin Credit }

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Au: Fetch and Delsin communicate through graffiti around the city, originally it was so the DUPS didn’t figure out they were friends and try and hurt one to get to the other. It then turned into teasing and a game to see who could have the most graffiti around the city.

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balancingpcint:

          “Shh shh, what about you stop fucking sobbing and tell me what I want to know, huh? Come on, you fucking baby. I have only pulled off ONE fingernail. You can’t even take that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

       ★❚ He spat pugnacious comments and protests all the way up to being dragged into a closed off room and shoved into a chair. He made note of the ominous fields of tropical trees. How far away is he? His mind raced before he was made to face the supposed boss. Delsin peered up at the man with a nasty scar climbing around the side of his shaven head. He almost looked like any drug-dealing street punk he might catch crawling around the Lantern District. Except he had a wild look in his eyes and dark splotches on his shirt.

      There is no fighting back without some kind of power, and that’s the awful truth. The best he can do is use his fists, find a weapon, and make a run for it. The sickening, screaming pain tells him what he already knows: he’s just human. A conduit, but what about when he’s trapped on an island, hardly any resources for him to drain? Reality hurts like a bitch, and Delsin can’t suppress the trembling bark of pain. His whole face winces, white teeth bared, but he still kicks at the son of a bitch. He had been shot at, stabbed by cement daggers and beaten around, but this is entirely different. And he isn’t healing.

      “--AAAauuGH! Can’t you even ask nicely?!”

       Reggie, I really need you right now!  He silently pleads, biting hard around the blood pouring from his quivering, clenched fist; bad enough to distract him from the pounding in his head. It’s a useless, pathetic thought and he knows it. Anytime he was bailed out of a tight situation, later he would pretend he didn’t ever run to big brother. At the thought, an awful, miserable feeling stabs into his stomach. Reggie is still in Seattle, possibly trying to find a way to break him out of Curdun Cay.

      That’s not where they took me! What the hell?! Okay, think, Delsin! Resources, gotta look for a resource-!

     “Okayokay! They were taking me to their facility!” 

        He regrets the brief a sense of triumph he felt after a bunch of sweaty guys in similar fatigues and filthy red shirts, gunned down the helicopter. They stopped his oppressors, but it was still life or death. Before he could think about the frantic voices and the roaring gun blasts, he was thrown from his seat, fists still bound together by heavy containment restraints. He caught a last glimpse of the assailants before the floor slammed up against his face and his head was knocked around a dozen times. If he’d been watching a movie of this taking place, he’d be laughing at the sight of armored DUP agents being dragged out of the destroyed aircraft, disarmed and getting their asses beat. God knows they had it coming.

       Then, the moment would crash when he watched them either be executed or taken elsewhere. Nevermind his disdain for the dupes, they didn’t deserve to be killed in cold blood without a way to fight back. The screwed up thing is, he quickly realized they were no longer the danger here. Those agents were practically a branch of the military, and they were taken down by a handful of men armed with machine guns and filthy cargo pants. 

      “That’s all I know!”

      And then he tries to discreetly look for anything. Anything emitting smoke.

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REBLOG IF YOU DON'T MIND BLOODY ROLEPLAYS OR VIOLENT ROLEPLAYS

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/yoinks the beanie --

       ✭❚ “–Whoa, hands off the beanie, alright? No matter how much you dig my great sense of style. You can look, snap a picture. I gotta draw the line somewhere, don’t give the paparazzi any crazy ideas, dude.”