angsty chaos magic user @angstychaos - Tumblr Blog

housecfm‌:

From his vantage point at the edge of a cliff, Erik’s eyes track the activity buzzing below him. The (re)construction of Genosha is progressing in earnest. As much as the sight fills him with pride and a sense of joy at seeing mutantkind restored, he dreads the implications of this - there is no growth without challenge, no restoration without a counter attack; he expects nothing to be different this time. Humankind has shown itself to be remarkably stuck in its ways.

A footstep and a voice drag him from his contemplative thoughts, and he glances around, somewhat surprised to see someone joining him. The boy is unfamiliar, though Erik senses a flicker of uncertainty and perhaps awkwardness from him. Still, he can sense no weapon (at least, none made of metal) on his person, and carefully concludes that this is no assassination attempt. Not yet, at least.

“Billy,” he says, inclining his head. The name doesn’t ring a bell, even if he looks somehow familiar. “I don’t believe we’ve met. And you clearly know who I am, so I expect that I can dispense with the introductions.”

Still, he relents and smiles fractionally. “How can I help you? Were you one of those who perished in the Decimation?”

The familiarity continues to tickle at the edges of his brain, frustrating in its ambiguity. Strange.

Oh, how unkind fate can be. Emotional paralysis stills his body for a quick moment, in which multitudes of thoughts swell the already contemplative state of his mind. Perhaps he ought to have addressed him as Magneto, or perhaps nothing at all. Perhaps the setting was all wrong, too tainted with the destruction of the island, and he would find his sort-of grandfather in the midst of frustrations. Billy frantically even considers the idea of teleporting away with his magic, though it is, as usual, the uncanny sense of bravery derived from whatever pit in his body deemed fit to hold its emotion that stays him here. Here, amongst ashes and dust, with heat so harrowing that the back of his shirt remains lightly drenched.

He has never been so thankful for Erik’s mutation not to be one of telepathy.

“We haven’t,” Billy confirms, a bit dazed and seemingly out of breath. It is the mercy of a subtle smile that quells his rapidly beating heart to not jump from his ribcage. Billy contemplates extending a hand for a shake but thinks better of it. Too formal, too odd.

The decimation? His brain stutters and recalls the summary of the events wrecking across this universe. Shaking his head, he finds more resolve to pave his first impression upon the other.

“I’m not from here.” Though he appears just as ordinary as every other person here. “But I’m… here to help. I’m…” When his mouth dries suddenly, he is pushing a hand into his pocket to find his wallet and phone, where an array of photographs can better explain the relation between Magneto and himself. Billy abruptly hesitates and leaves his fist, curled around the items, suspended at his side. His voice is remarkably concise in the air. “I’m from a different universe, but from one that is still similar.” At the response, his eyes gaze around Genosha’s ruins for emphasis. This cannot be preventable even here.

#housecfm #♢* ( erik / 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 )

themischiefisms‌:

hardly able to detect powers on average, loki still could feel the pull of magic in others, especially as sparse as it was around here. many had great powers, but hardly from something he was familiar with called a mutation by humans that lacked it. evolution perhaps was the appropriate answer, one he’d learned quite a few prescribed to, yet humans, as with many others in the universe, liked to fear and make monsters of what they lacked understanding in. loki hadn’t been any different, though he liked to think he was working towards better with it. after all, it did interest him that midgardians were simply born with powers to varying degrees.

but magic drew him. the sorcerers around that worked with strange certainly had found him approaching once or twice, though he also had other motives of wishing to seek out strange on his own, magic, sorcery, or otherwise be damned. his curiosity of things he couldn’t obtain answers to was driving him mad, almost mad enough to act beyond the limited scope of what was decided his right and wrong.

someone he’d yet to see, though perhaps he’d felt his magic before, was who drew loki in this time, approaching as the man looked through the window, eyebrows coming together as he spoke his words. narrowing his eyes, he ended up deciding to shrug away the apology, approaching slowly at first then at a normal pace.

“it appears i’ve interrupted something,” he muses out loud to him.

If there is a faint quake in his heartbeat, negligible at the most, Billy does not let it show by the shift in his demeanor. Loki of Asgard is familiar company—no, not this one, he is too towering, too stoic—and it is this same unnerving familiarity that encourages the dark thickness of his brow to quirk in a strong furrow. The cant of his left shoulder leans against the glass plane holstered to the window, supporting his weight that dramatically becomes burdened by Loki’s verbal communication.

Impartial as Billy tries (and fails) to be, he visibly emanates some form of skepticism that derives from past wrongdoings. His mouth twists with some obvious foreboding quip, but nothing comes out but a defeated sigh. A loosely clenched hand reaches up to rub at his forehead.

“Loki…” What did he interrupt? A melancholic soliloquy at the most, constructed by Billy’s bemoaning of this universe so torn apart that even his volatile magic could be of assistance. What a laugh! Mouth twisting further, his cheeks are bunched together roundly. “There’s a saying that you could learn from: curiosity killed the cat.”

#themischiefisms #♢* ( loki / 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 )

witchavenger‌:

it was a funny thing, looking back on it – wanda’s love for the vision. it had befitted her not for genuine, tender desire but for the dehydration of love and need to be understood. her team, the family that found her after pietro died – all of them had feared or hated her, and some of them never stopped. it was a truth she accepted with quiet strength, one she knew she’d have to hold onto with clenched fists after she and stephen had done the impossible and brought what was supposed to be gone forever back. she tried to imagine how things would change if they knew what it cost, but they wouldn’t. she and stephen understood that much.

still, her power grew in ways wanda didn’t understand. it had grown in the five years she’d spent dead – or something other than dead, something less permanent, less impossible. she found a new awareness of a cosmic existence – of hundreds and hundreds of existences, realities that she had only to reach out to be able to touch. she knew of things she would never dare to speak of – the power of her words more powerful than she ever knew – the destruction of the world, the day of m –

and all of it was in her mind, in a swirl of magic that made her wonder how she got here, why she was still alive. it made her wonder what lead her to be the woman she is now, rather than the woman she was then –– still tearing at the seams but unalone.

she thought maybe it was because her mind had wandered to that reality, to no more muta – no. that was other. that was elsewhere. what she was feeling then – who she was feeling then – they were present. they were real. they were here.

and he was hers.

she didn’t know how she knew it, but she did. it didn’t make sense, not entirely – it was like remembering something from when she was two, maybe three years old. vague, wrong, incomplete, but there, somewhere in the unexplored forest of her memory, hiding behind what was left of her memory of their parents’ faces. wanda found the boy – he must have been a man –, his eyes looked wearier than the eyes of any boy – and she felt simultaneously warm and nervous, like he would know something she didn’t.

wanda observed him for a moment in silence before saying anything, as if the longer she looked the more clear everything would become. it didn’t, so she listened to him. to what he was feeling. to what he was putting out into the universe – into reality. it was so familiar her breath nearly caught in her throat. but he saw her, and she could no longer be silent and curious.

“it’s so very human to be sad,” she said quietly, “homesick. to not want to be alone. there’s no shame in that, and nothing to apologize for.”

Few as their exchanges have been from his own world, Billy knows the lilt of her voice marking the pronunciation of each syllable. He would know it even throughout a storm or across realities—the way she inhaled between speaking, the sigh of her words. His gaze flutters down to the ground, listening in a sentiment that is too knowing to be shock, yet strikes him as suddenly all the same. There is a small, black ant crawling near the bottom of the window. If he concentrates enough, he can create two of them.

Or hundreds. Thousands. Billy peers at the red hue of her hair from the corner of his stare, skittish at first as though Wanda could soon dissipate to broken recollections. He sees her hair and at once, his mind jumps to the crimson magic that so often spawns from her hands, akin to his own though a contrasting shade of color. Their lurid identities, connected as they are, feel…

Well, he feels oddness to be here but warm nevertheless to be within the presence of the very woman who created him. Billy turns slowly to face her, his angled head partially obscuring his face with the dark fringe of his hair. It’s a purposeful posture, one still hesitant of what to gauge from this approach.

Human to be sad— He knows his fair share of the melancholy. Homesickness? Could she sympathize with the sensation? Who else would be better to share in it?

Billy realizes belatedly that he’s spoken nothing of his own homesickness and that his emotions must be practically feeding her his thoughts and ideas. An apologetic smile turns his mouth, the sharpness in his eyes softening. He’s overwhelmed to see her but grateful that it didn’t take long.

“I’m not alone here,” he murmurs, forcing himself to remember the truth of it. Loneliness would not find him here in the midst of family. Even so, he nearly catches himself apologizing for his previous apology. Come on, Kaplan, think! “But… I still feel… Never mind. You already know, don’t you?”

#♢* ( wanda / 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 )#witchavenger

ofnorsemyths‌:

thor hardly slept and when he did, it seemed like days. today however was not any different than his normal sleepless days and thus he found himself in the communal kitchen, racketing around until he found some coffee. he used the french press that stark had taught them how to use so long ago, or at least a different, he was quite sure the original one was long gone - but it didn’t matter, the coffee came out bitter and yet… he still drank it.

sighing, he dumped the remaining grounds down the sink and left the press to the side to be washed by someone else when he started to make his way back to his room - only to pause when he saw someone looking out one of the windows. raising a brow, the asgardian walked up towards him, about to speak - only to be cut off at the last minute. “oh…” he started, glancing down at his coffee mug and then stepping back.

“perhaps i should give you that moment and space to do so then,“ he stated, giving the lad a broad smile. “i’d offer some coffee to you but this is quite bitter, not any of the good stuff that stark used to have.“ he sighed fondly, gazing past the man and out the window. “are you well though? should i fetch our in-house doctor? i’ve heard she is quite good, recommended by strange himself.” he paused again and fixed his gaze curiously on the man, “you’re of magic, are you not?“

The deep rumble of a voice forces Billy from his reverie, slow at first like thickened honey, until hazel eyes discern the stature of Thor reflecting within the window’s shine. A startling shock coils in his gut; he feels a wave of admiration and sheepishness, though it is mostly the latter that grows upon his face the moment he spins around.

“Holy…” The front of his teeth clamp down on his tongue before he can curse. With a pathetic wince, Billy shifts his weight on the balls of his feet and looks from Thor and the coffee cup. “I always weaken my coffee with milk and sugar so I probably couldn’t tell the difference. Um— No, no! I’m fine, don’t worry.” Oh my god, am I starting to look sick? “Thanks, I’m… Yeah. Of magic.” The end of his mouth curls upwards, instinctively forming into a slanted smile once an idea enters his mind. Billy murmurs a spell beneath his breath and, as his right hand grows blue, changes the bitterness of Thor’s coffee to become more pleasant. “Go ahead and try it now.”

#♢* ( thor / 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 )#ofnorsemyths

His nerves stubbornly refuse to fade. The Avengers Compound strikes a melancholic nostalgia that doesn’t belong in his chest; how can he lament for the past when everything here is so new? So fragile? A world untouched by him, but damaged nevertheless so heartlessly that he’d agreed to come to this universe, wakening from his slumber of retirement, and help. Yet, even still...

Billy Kaplan could hold soap better than he could hold an interaction with these people.

Sunlight filters in through wide windows. He squints mildly, head soon turning to cast a forlorn look to where hallways broke off. The idleness of domesticity has worked diligently to spoil him; he misses his apartment, with the faint scent of the candles he last picked up at a garage sale, and the warmth of his bed that knew the mold of his body. Homesickness has never quite plagued him in this magnitude for a number of years. He chokes the embittered sentiment beneath his ribcage, where it can beat erratically alongside his heart.

Movement stirs behind him. Trying to peer at the faded reflection that the window holds, his neck cranes to the side and a curl of hair falls over his ear. “Sorry,” he murmurs statically, clearing misinterpreting who it was. “I needed a moment to breathe.”

open

#u: open #♢* ( open starter / 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 )

There is a fever that burns beneath his skin. Fire spreads down the spine of his back; the ridges bulging beneath skin help pool droplets of sweat that stick to the back of his shirt. Genosha’s climate continues to reign a ferocity that he recalls from the last time he’d been here—in his own universe, in the wake of strikingly similar destruction, while in pursuit for his sort-of mother.

The sullen line of his mouth curves into a wry smile. Billy sways with each subsequent step, following a path of dirt where he can see the crumbs of society taunt what once was. A towering capital, home to millions… With dust kicked up around his feet, even Billy, whose dour optimism would inevitably form permanent lines of stress around his eyes, has to admire the poetic irony of now being in pursuit of Magneto.

Different universe. Same intimidating presence of a man. His grandfather: wise, sharp-tongued, formidable. Would he feel remorseful here? Would he look upon Billy—their same strong chin, dark eyes, heavy brows—and applaud their similarities? (No, Billy urges himself, he probably doesn’t even know—)

There is the crunch of debris beneath his footsteps. Sweltering heat steals his breath and forms additional beads of sweat over a creasing brow. Genosha’s ashes are never pleasant to witness; he recalls photographs of how proud the island stood, amid a world of uncertainty for mutantkind, and feels a swelling in his chest push against his ribcage.

Never again. Never again. Neveragainneveragainneveragain.

“Erik Lehnsherr?” The sturdiness of his voice surprises even Billy once the sound unfurls from his tongue. Hazel eyes flick upwards, recognizing the stature that that forms his grandfather’s shoulders. What do I say? WhatdoIsay?! “My name’s Billy.”

Idiot.

ERIK LEHNSHERR | @housecfm

#housecfm #♢* ( erik / 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 )

MOONLIGHT DROWNS OUT ALL BUT THE BRIGHTEST STARS

& the basics

names: william “billy” kaplan

alias: wiccan | demiurge

age: 21

preferred pronouns: he/him

team: young avengers

faceclaim: ezra miller

& the details

family: tommy shepherd (twin brother), teddy altman (boyfriend), wanda maximoff (mother), vision (father), erik lehnsherr (grandfather) jeff kaplan (human father), rebecca kaplan (human mother), two unnamed younger brothers, & ... a lot more

three favorite things: tv shows, books, & his friends

education: finished some university

skills: great at making bad decisions :)

weapons: none

abilities: magic over reality warping