; got a mean streak.

landon hightower. twenty nine. cheyenne country club. hunter.

[fightingbruises]

mclancholias :

The booming laugh almost made her flinch – loud noises were inevitably unsettling and this man evoked a complete aura of danger.  He reminded her of Halloween. No, not because he was scary, but because his attitude felt like all the little children, dressed as ghosts, daring each other to ring the doorbell of the spookiest house on the block. Olivia was the house, of course. “You expect me to give away all my signature moves to someone whose head looks like a deformed, useless dildo?” Oh, she was an easy one to get riled up. Easy one to make angry. Her sharp tongue was always filed to a point and ready to stab. “Fucking blow me, dick head.”

He was quick to make sense of her prominent reaction just like he usually did -- Landon didn’t particularly sense any fright but that was the closest and easiest explanation. People felt an air of panic when they were around him. Except when she opened her mouth; the entire scenario of what he had been expecting turned completely on its head. The male’s grin widened and he wasn’t making any sudden moves to bite back, only intently watching the scene unfold before him. “I’m doubtful you have much room for signature moves, but if that’s what you believe...” Landon clicked his tongue. “However, that mouth of yours is quite impressive.”

[fightingbruises]

ncthalies :

   ( @fightingbruises )  

                                     SEND 🌈 FOR A RANDOM ENCOUNTER ! 

                        PRISTINE, that’s what the place was —– a neat as a pin, pristine thing, with sentiments lining the walls & shelves. A GHOST HOME filled with nothing but the memories of it’s previous owners. This? was considered first class compared to the automobile that was her camp, even with her taintment shadowing the scenery with a click! of heeled boots and a cigarette between perfectly manicured fingertips. LOOKS ARE DECEIVING, even the girl with a smile like honey spills words like venom ; and Nathalie Duvàl especially is a BRUISE against tender flesh, but when you had a family like her own, you learn to embrace the blood under your fingernails and the CRIMSON FLESH in your wake by the time your twelve ; you embrace the feeling of life kicking you in the teeth, and by the time your fifteen you’ve learnt the joy of folding your palms into fists & fighting back. She was raised with a cutthroat intellect confined within an aura of elegance ; even with the dirt layering against her physique ( she’s unimpressed by the fashionable standards cheyenne has, by the way. ) she still walks this dead world – this ghost home – like she was born to do so.

Nathalie had the coldness of metal pushed into her palm, turning her into a fighter long before the undead rose from their graves & ruffing it had always felt at home than these suburban homes would have felt to any family ; but the couch is better than the boot of that beat up lemon two blocks back, even she knows that, especially when the chill of spring nights crawls up her spine. She figures it’s a night of simple solitude until someone’s presence is made known.  ❝  I’m staying.  ❞ she breaths, and there’s an opaque puff of SMOKE that fills her vision before eyes focus on the approacher.  ❝ This place? is it yours? ❞ a knee crosses over the other, sealing her position ; sealing her defense, & she doesn’t pause for an answer.  ❝ Well, It’s cold and I am staying. If you don’t approve you can be the one that leaves. ❞ foot? down.  

There wasn’t one day that could slip by without Landon Hightower feeling lost in some way or another. Back before this apocalyptic shit became a reality, it had been far easier to block it out. Only now, there was too much silence -- and that silence was all consuming. It teased and taunted him; beat him into submission until nothing even slightly stable about the male remained. A blunt between his fingers and a knockabout with some supposed pals wasn’t going to do anything. The individuals at the Country Club hated him, and even if they didn’t, he seemed determined to make it happen sooner or later anyway.

No. At this point, his distraction could only come in the form of that which was getting harder and harder to come across as the days passed. White powder sniffing up his nostrils and the tracks of needle-marks all over his arms. His gait wasn’t entirely straight or even focused. He needed to sit down, preferrably somewhere where he wouldn’t have the possibility of being attacked in his moment of quiet vulnerability. A bad trip? Maybe. The man stumbled into the porch of the first house that caught his gaze; the first thing he saw being happy faces smiling back at him from the pictures that lined the living room walls. Of course it wasn’t at all surprising that he had been noticed, gracefulness wasn’t exactly his strong suit. “Huh?” He called back out to the random voice, spinning around until he saw the waft of blonde hair falling over the back of the couch. Fuck, it was probably an angel coming to mock him for his sins. Landon fell into the armchair at the other side of the room before even thinking of responding; hands passing over his face as though trying to pull himself together. Then he glanced around properly, a dazed expression lining his features. “My house is an actual shit-tip now compared to this, so no. I don’t approve... nor disapprove.” Honestly, he felt faded and was waiting for the fake energy to kick in.

[fightingbruises]

sungrcwn :

           if he was being entirely honest with himself, topher found landon to be a little — well, intimidating, quite frankly. ( something told him that was the way the older man preferred it, sadly enough, and if that was the case, he imagined he must be pretty pleased with himself. ) it was just something in the way landon interacted with him — he could hear the judgment in his tone whenever he criticized him, could feel the condescension glistening in his gaze, and as laid back as the gardener could be, sometimes it was hard to let it roll off of his back. although topher knew that the only difference between them was where their skill sets lay, he couldn’t shake the feeling that landon believed himself better. ( and sometimes — sometimes, he wondered if maybe there wasn’t any truth to that, but ever the optimist, he genuinely tried not to. ) the hand that held the bow he’d been aiming fell to his side and he gave a slow nod, letting his gaze drift over to the darker haired man. ❝  i s’pose so, yeah,  ❞   toph admitted with a shrug, glancing down the clearing at the arrow that had gone astray.  ❝  for now, anyway. can’t say i’ve ever tried t’shoot one of these before an’ i mean, i feel like it’s definitely a learnin’ curve type situation. i’m still pretty optimistic. ❞ 

Was he being unnecessary? Most likely. His life could be described as a series of unnecessary cruelities; whether that be in action or whatever toxicity decided to spill from his mouth. He had never had control of it, not really. Even when the deepest parts of his mind knew he was doing wrong, the more prominent parts never could seem to help themselves. Would it be better if he lied and pretended to be a good person? At least he was honest ninety percent of the time, and he wasn’t about to dim himself down for some guy who was too nice. Landon had learned how to hunt a long time ago and only found it in his duty to tell the other the truth of his skills ( however it sounded coming out of his mouth. ) “Well, you could probably start off with holding it correctly,” He advised, motioning for the other male to pass the bow so he could demonstrate.

[conflictinghands]

💋 ( landon )

EVER WONDER WHAT MY MUSE SAYS ABOUT YOURS?

@fightingbruises

💋  for what my muse would say to the person trying to woo your muse.

       It was not all that uncommon nowadays for Jac to run into the ever-charming Landon while out on the road. But she never failed to spend at least a little while with him, a way of catching up on each other’s respective lives, though it was all namely surface-level. That was okay, some people didn’t want to open up, and Jac understood that. She wasn’t necessarily the same way, but she knew when to keep her mouth shut and not pry at another to hear a secret they wished to keep to themselves. However, it was still nice to have someone to look forward to seeing out and about.

        Would explain why Landon felt comfortable enough with her now to attempt a romantic advance. Really, how attractive a situation could it be; sitting on the edge of a low rise building, snacking on some travel mix he found while throwing pebbles at a single walker staggering below their feet. It was interesting enough to see that when she hit it in the eye, there was still a reflex that told the body to close it against the intrusion, though no display of pain was evident. And then she heard him sigh, reclining back on his hands, and when she glanced, she was momentarily caught up by the fact there was one perfect Superman curl falling onto his face. There was a look on his features, a devilish smirk. He knew he was handsome, had to, and while she couldn’t quite disagree, she wasn’t sure what his intentions were. But the gaze he gave was enough to bring a light blush to her cheeks.

           ❝   I can see how this could be romantic: the sun setting, the chocolate in the travel mix, and yes of course, the rotter wanting to eat us. And maybe in another life, I would totally fall for that bad boy stereotype you’ve got going on, especially with that hair … but I’m not sure that NOW is the appropriate time for that. Also, I’m afraid to say that I don’t know you all that well, and before I even dream … okay, before I ever consciously think about kissing you, I’d want to know more. Maybe I’m the hopeless romantic and I’m totally reading the situation wrong, but I thought I would just say something. Because when you look at me with that face, I don’t know what you’re thinking and it makes me all flustered. So … did you understand any of that?   ❞

[goodgirlsdontsurvive]

📖 (landon)

what ingrid would write about landon in her diary ! — ( @fightingbruises )

     UGH!!! I dreamt… dreamed? Is it dreamt or dreamed? Either way, I had a dream about him again last night. I see his eyes in my sleep, nothing else about him but his eyes. I see them out of sleep too, like when I look in the mirror or walk down the street, peering at me from behind a brick wall, electric and neon so I can’t miss them until I look directly at them and then they suddenly disappear. It’s sort of scary. I don’t know what any of it means. Sometimes I think it means I miss him, which is like… insane. He’s… well, him. So obviously that’s a huge NO!! I just dream about Theo sometimes too, which usually happens when I miss him… even though that hasn’t happened in months, we’re so over. For good this time, really, I promise!      Does it mean I’m afraid of him? We knew that, Diary, we knew that. I can’t help but wonder about him though, sometimes I lay in my bed and think about where he is. Does he have a bed? Does he have a room in a house? He’s from here too, did he get to stay at his house like me? When he’s laying in bed, does he think of me? …ew, right? Gross. That’s a gross thought, let’s pretend I never said that, Diary. Not that it’s not nice to be thought of, I just don’t want HIM to be the one thinking of me in bed at night.      Well… I guess, like, appearance wise, he’s not the worst person to think of thinking of me. I mean, like, his eyes are nice. I already told you about that. His hair is black like Theo’s but I don’t know… more… nice? Not nice like good nice, but like… neat. And he’s got a really strong jaw and nose and eyebrows. Okay, wait, I’m just establishing that he has a face. Yes, Diary, he’s got a face. But I suppose it’s a nice face, like a movie star from the ‘50s or something. Whatever, it doesn’t matter what his face looks like, because he’s still… him.      I forget what I was even talking about in the first place. Oh, right, dreaming. Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming. Does he dream about me too? Does he see my eyes in the mirror, walking down the street, doing whatever it is that he does every day? Does he lay in bed, thinking about me when he wants to… get off? Not that I think about him like that or even DO that, but still. Oh, that’s probably kinda weird, thinking about someone thinking about me during… that. That’s not normal, is it? I don’t like the way he makes me feel. I don’t like waking up, thinking about him before I’ve even thought about myself.

                               …I don’t like thinking about Landon Hightower at all.                                                                                                                  ♥ Ingrid

[fightingbruises]

The man let out a howling laugh ( more for dramatics rather than any amusement he actually felt ), shaking his head at the other whose aim was quite ridiculous. How they had survived this far was beyond him. “Is that it?” Landon asked, tone honeyed and biting all at the same time. He gave a condescending pat to the other’s shoulder; intending to rile them up. Doing so would be a sure-fire distraction from his messy head, and that was always his ultimate goal.

[rej1x1-deactivated20171202]

aesthetic ♡ the cataclysmic.

[fightingbruises]

conflictinghands :

       It wasn’t very often that Jac found herself greeting another stranger with some semblance of humor or nonchalance. Not when there were so many reasons to be tense, cautious, skeptical. God, it grows tiring, and she could always feel the weight of a hard day pulling taut on the muscles of her shoulders. If she could make it a little easier on herself, she wouldn’t be so goddamn serious all the time. As it were, there were no walkers in sight, it was a pleasant day, and she was just enjoying a stroll with a snack before she had to return to crouching in rubbish along alleys and strategizing the best way to get from Point A to Point B.

       “I think there’s plenty of other threats about, no need for another,” she said with a small smile. “Any reason in particular why YOU’RE the one out here warning everyone about the status of things?” There weren’t many left who weren’t aware of the hospital falling, and the ensuing hordes. Guess he was just being nice and making sure people knew what they were getting themselves into. Which only led to more troubles for herself, underestimating the severity of the whole situation. Squinting a bit as she glanced at the sky, a bite of jerky, “Do you need help getting anywhere? I’m sure it’s safer to travel in pairs rather than alone.”

He was no longer the little boy sitting at the back of the class and cracking crude jokes about the teacher. Though there were hints of it when he smiled, and in some of what he said. Landon despised being serious because then it reminded him of how dire everything really was. An oblivious facade and a head in the clouds was much preferred if he could keep it up for long enough. “If you think those dead things are more dangerous than humans, you’re doing something very wrong, sweets.”

So naive, then? It wouldn’t be the first time he had come across someone with idealistic opinions about the world they now lived in. “Who says I was warning everyone?” He grinned. Truth was, he just thought he had found a good target for the moment -- something to take his mind off everything else. “I didn’t really have any concrete plans.” That was kind of a lie; he just wanted to find out what she was up to. “What about you?”

[fightingbruises]

Do you mind? :)))

SEND “THAT’S MINE” FOR YOUR MUSE TO DISCOVER MINE WEARING SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO YOURS.

Alternatively, send “Do you mind?” for the other way around. (My muse discovers yours wearing something that belongs to mine)

The fact that they had somehow ended up sharing a building together was puzzling enough ( especially without having her run out the door screaming at one time or another. ) They weren’t sharing a room, and he hadn’t even bothered suggesting for he knew Ingrid would only think of that whatever she liked. Landon had soon learned how terribly stubborn the young woman could be and it never failed to drive him crazy. The sun was shining in from the windows, illuminating the empty bottles strewn around the room – which he also hadn’t offered to her the night prior, though that was mostly through greed. He hoisted himself up against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck as he heard a few clatters and bangs coming from next door. Then it was the caramel-colored hair that entered first, trailing down and resting atop a sweater that was all too familiar. Green eyes blinked a few times; not entirely sure whether he was seeing correctly or if he was having some kind of fantasy. How dare she look better in that shirt than he did, and it didn’t even fit her! Shrugging away his dazed expression, Landon asked, “Did you come in here last night to get that?”

[finnwittrocknews]

[fightingbruises]

goodgirlsdontsurvive :

     Inhaling deeply ( how useful that was to suppress an oncoming tantrum, she wondered if Circe could grant her lungs when her father eventually lifted his curse ), Ignatia gave a weak smile of gratitude to Lander. Though her temper still felt heavy in her chest, she could feel it soften at the sight of his face, at his help — Lander was her FAVORITE brother, after all. Why wouldn’t, shouldn’t he be? He treated her with more respect than the rest of their siblings did and quickly an attachment grew. When Lander was near, she felt a SPINE grow in her back and her chin would tilt upwards until she could do her chores without complaint, sometimes even with a smile.  ❝  I–I suppose I could… for a moment.  ❞  Ignatia took her hands out of the water and stepped away from the basin, wiping her hands on the front of her gown.  ❝  Thank you, brother, you are most kind.  ❞

Although he surely had many sides, Dionysus knew when respect was due. Their siblings were often rather quick to let their precious sister do their work for them when there was rarely any real call for it. They were all capable of doing things for themselves, were they not? So he always made sure to treat her with equality as he honestly believed she deserved nothing less. He gave a nod as she accepted his suggestion. “Good. You should always remember to make time for yourself, Ignatia. Always.” Though often his own take on those words could lean close to narcissism, he did mean well. “How are you fairing in this new form?”

[fightingbruises]

sungrcwn :

          it was, admittedly, the sound of mirth that had so quickly drawn him in; melodious laughter intermingled with more conversations than the curious tree nymph could make out, echoes of voices carried through the air alongside a lilting tune plucked out on a lyre. he’d noticed the convivial symphony in his absent wandering ( the hamadryade had no true destination, having never before strayed from the familiarity of his oak ) and it did not take long for bare feet to lead balanos to the source of the sound. inquisitive eyes drifted across the courtyard — he had never seen quite so many people gathered in one place before, not even close — before a sudden greeting had his verdant gaze drifting to a familiar ( and vaguely u n f a m i l i a r ) visage that appeared nearby. dionysus. he’d seen the god of wine and merry-making many a time in the woods, drunken and laughing amidst a crowd of willing women and raucous satyrs as they carried on from dusk ‘til dawn.  ❝ i — i suppose i have, ❞  balanos conceded after a few seconds of sheepish silence, rocking back until heels sank into the soft grass.  ❝ —and what is it i’ve come to again, exactly? ❞

He failed to think of anything more delightful than the crisp, sweet taste of wine on his tongue and the sound of enjoyment in his ears. Even more so when he was the one allowing people to experience it, Dionysus felt a sort of power in relation. Not completely unlike the influence of the many cults he was known for. As much as the humans of the earth were entertaining him on nights such as these, he decided it would be rude not to let his fellow Gods and Godesses know of his celebrations. He had also been around long enough to be aware of their mixed opnions on him, but absolutely nothing would stop him from doing what he did best. Eyeing Balanos and his human form softly ( they all seemed to fit each and every one of their souls rather well ), he threw an arm around the other’s shoulders to show friendliness and solidarity. “I am very glad, you must know.” He smiled; turning them and making a direction for the house, sending confident nods to anyone who looked their way. “Oh, just a gathering. A celebration of mortality, if you will. Let’s get you a drink.”

[greekichor]

² /∞  gods

↳ dionysus (character poster), god of ecstasy,  madness & wine. 

[fightingbruises]

The sounds of a party were beyond pleasing to his ears. Even though the gatherings mortals had seemed to be worlds apart from their own, they weren’t all so different from his. The intentions were the same; preferring to leave themselves for a night or maybe even longer. To go somewhere sweeter -- a personal heaven, of sorts. It was practically all he had been doing since arriving back on earth. Everyone knew there would be some fun wherever Dionysus presented himself, and so he wasn’t in the slightest bit surprised to see an oncoming figure in the courtyard where he stood -- in front of the house that was already crowded with guests. Wine-stained lips opened to welcome them. “You came! How glorious.”

[fightingbruises]

goodgirlsdontsurvive :

     How shameful for a GODDESS to whine like a child, her father would whisper to calm a pouted lip and furrowed brow — well, not calm, but shame. Strip the Goddess title, even the servant one, and all you’re left with is a CHILD. Ignatia wasn’t a stranger to a tantrum, and while she was able to keep them controlled just to her chambers, the loss of her HOLY TITLE left her emotions bursting beyond the dam and into the village. Chalice in her hands gracelessly tumbling into the basin, Ignatia couldn’t hold back the TEARS brimming as her teeth gritted and jaw clenched,  ❝  Do you not have two legs? I do not understand why I must retrieve it for you.  ❞

Dionysus Lander was no stranger to being served; in a family like his, was that so surprising? Yet his eyes were witnesses to someone of his own family ( a sister, nonetheless ), treating everyone around her as higher and leaving herself to pick up the messes. Even if it was one of her jobs, a duty just like they all had -- it didn’t make it any more right. “Then do not, dear sister,” He allowed, moving over to help. Had it been anyone else, he would have scoffed and reminded them who they were talking to. “Can’t you have a break for just a moment?”

[fightingbruises]

THE PANTHEON / because we are mortal.

“ The tragedy of Dionysus: Wear a black robe at night, and white you’ll wear by morning; but wear a purple robe to the midnight feast, and when you wake you’ll dress in black to mourn your soul deceased. “

BASICS.

Deity: Dionysus ( Διόνυσος ) - god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, of ritual madness, fertility, theater and religious ecstasy.

Mortal Identity: Lander - ‘ meaning - lion. ‘

Faceclaim: Harry Lloyd.

BIOGRAPHY.

Dionysus had a strange birth that evokes the difficulty in fitting him into the Olympian pantheon. His mother was a mortal woman, Semele, the daughter of king Cadmus of Thebes, and his father was Zeus, the king of the gods. Zeus' wife, Hera, discovered the affair while Semele was pregnant. Appearing as an old crone, Hera befriended Semele, who confided in her that Zeus was the actual father of the baby in her womb. Hera pretended not to believe her, and planted seeds of doubt in Semele's mind. Curious, Semele demanded of Zeus that he reveal himself in all his glory as proof of his godhood.

Though Zeus begged her not to ask this, she persisted and he agreed. Therefore, he came to her wreathed in bolts of lightning; mortals, however, could not look upon an undisguised god without dying, and she perished in the ensuing blaze. Zeus rescued the unborn Dionysus by sewing him into his thigh.

When Dionysus grew up, he discovered the culture of the vine and the mode of extracting its precious juice, being the first to do so; but Hera struck him with madness, and drove him forth a wanderer through various parts of the earth. In Phrygia the goddess Cybele, better known to the Greeks as Rhea, cured him and taught him her religious rites, and he set out on a progress through Asia teaching the people the cultivation of the vine.

Though he doesn’t understand the extent of his father’s decision, Dionysus is trying to make the most out of mortality -- which isn’t looking too hard considering he was familiar with earth at this point. Most of his days were spent with glasses of wine by his side, sweet temptation in the air and good company.

CONNECTIONS.

Parents: Zeus and Semele.

Siblings: Aeacus, Angelos, Aphrodite, Apollo, Ares, Artemis, Athena, Eileithyia, Enyo, Eris, Ersa, Hebe, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Heracles, Hermes, Minos, Pandia, Persephone, Perseus, Rhadamanthus, the Graces, the Horae, the Litae, the Muses, the Moirai.

[twinkletces]

❝ it’s the TERRIFYING feeling when you realize you don’t much mind CLAWS against your skin. ❞

{ @fightingbruises​ }