PSYCHIC.

2.6.16 people are illogical, unreasonable, and self-centered. love them anyway. ( superhero oc. )

[vayusi-blog]

when ur already thinking of nasty shit abt ur character.

[vayusi-blog]

still probably an angel.

      “SHOCKINGLY enough, I’m not, but I        appreciate the compliment.”

It was enough to get Raja to smile, even if it didn’t  quite seem to reach his eyes. It was usually a good sign when the patient could crack jokes like that- though then again, the guy could’ve been hit SO  hard that he ACTUALLY thought Raja was an angel. Which, while it’d be flattering, would be REALLY bad. 

Gently, he lifted the injured mans head, and laid it on his lap. Once he was situated, he began calling up his magic, pulling it from where it rested in the core of his body. Moments later, it covered his hands, coating them with a thick shroud of magic. ONCE, he would’ve felt it burning; now, after years of magic, his hands BARELY felt the pain. 

      “What happened? Are you able to sit up?        Where exactly does it hurt the most?        Did you see the guys that did this, or did        they spring you outta no where?”

        powerful energy pours off of this man ( angel? ) in waves. yes, he’s slightly delirious, but he knows the other’s mortal. mostly. maybe. a hand lifts weakly, index and middle fingers tapping his temple. “head,” and he laughs awkwardly, wincing. arms brace against the ground, pushing himself up carefully. the world around him seems to spin. get a hold of yourself.

        “i was... fighting them,” stephen replies, eyes flickering around them and mind probing as far as it can. he can’t sense the men anywhere nearby. just this stranger. for now, they’re safe. his quarterstaff continues to crackle a few feet away, sparks of blue electricity jumping off the exposed rod. without thinking, he raises a hand, the weapon slides shut and flies into his palm. he grimaces. yep, definitely a broken rib.

[vayusi-blog]

stranger.

     with tea in hand, she takes a seat before casually glancing over to the next table. upon seeing a man reading one of her favorite novels, she couldn’t help but strike conversation.  

                  ❛     that’s a really great book you’re reading. i read it and fell in love with just about everything. you don’t come across guys who like reading romance novels much. i was beginning to worry i was the only one who read romance anymore.     ❜

                                                            @vayusi  ▒ █ ▌

        the last thing stephen had been expecting anyone to pay him much mind. just a guy sitting in his corner of the café, nose stuck in a book and phone off to the side just in case he got any alerts from the students or the professor. of course he’s flustered at first, but relaxes. she isn’t judging him. that’s a relief.

        “i... well, i didn’t always read romance. i was running out of other stuff and thought i’d broaden my horizons,” he slips his makeshift book mark between the pages, closing it carefully.

[vayusi-blog]

an angel, probably.

@vayusi

It’d been a LONG day at the school. The students wouldn’t pay attention, his coworkers had been LESS than friendly, and the principle had pretty much PROMISED that the tutorship program Raja had been working so hard to start wasn’t going to happen. And then of course he missed the bus to his apartment. All in all he was feeling… less than happy. BUT- life was life, he supposed. SHIT HAPPENED; and today was just one of those days where a LOT of shit happened at once. 

Since he’d missed the ONE bus that left the high school to his block, he was stuck walking home. Not a real problem, it was a nice night, pretty warm too for being February- it wasn’t until he was a block away from his apartment that it became a problem. MAINLY in the form of a loud groan from an alleyway.

Shit.

       “HEY- hey man are you alright? Can you open         your eyes for me?”

       usually, he’s much better at taking on more than one opponent. the problem this time is he didn’t know there’d be more than one. he had been so entirely focused on the one man as their fight reached a back alley of the neighborhood, reading his thoughts so he knew what to avoid and when, aiming to incapacitate his opponent with an electrical shock from his quarterstaff.

       he didn’t expect one of the guy’s pals to come up behind him and knock him out. stephen doesn’t even realize they beat him while he was down until he wakes up, sore all over, with a black eye, split lip, bloody nose. bruises all over his body beneath his clothes, a broken rib.

       and he groans. pained. he prays someone hears him, helps him. he keeps his cheek pressed to the filthy ground. then he hears a voice, a voice that causes relief to crash over him. eyes peek open, the one swelled so badly it barely cracks beyond a thin slit.

       “man... you must be an angel,” he laughs hoarsely, then groans again.

[vayusi-blog]

sigh.

      perhaps this guy could beat him him down.    leave him       broken like plenty of other people have before. perhaps       he could escape and recover from the injuries  —-  but       he would do it all alone.    thing is, gates has no friends.       in this city filled with people,        all he has is enemies.       one   more   enemy   on   his   plate   doesn’t   matter …

      with that,    the grin leaves his face as he glances away.

           ❛ is tha’ ALL ya saw, mate? ❜

        outside of physical altercation, stephen does not like to pry, he does not like fishing about through the minds of others, even if its for the sake of pulling out the truth beneath a filthy lie. sometimes it’s necessary, but others...

        “i saw a lot,” he replies quietly, “you know i can’t let you off scot-free, right? but i can lessen the punishment.”

        eyes soften. fingers brush over the side of his neck, rubbing slowly, and he allows himself to smile.

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[vayusi-blog]

jeez.

       the bloke’s in the hospital.

       oh, that brings toothy grin on his face. a chuckle even        slips through his lips at that fact.     sure, he didn’t kill        the bastard    —-   but hearing that he’s unconscious?        now he wonders if the guy is in a coma, or something.        that’d sure be the highlight of his day, knowing he has        caused                                                                   such.

            ❛ what do ya wan’ me t’a do,      mate?             send ‘im a GET WELL SOON card? ❜

        “well, i can’t really make you do anything.”

        he doesn’t have his quarterstaff, his face is completely revealed. good job, stephen. if he beats the tar out of this guy with his bare hands, even if it’s for the best, he knows the risk of him getting away and telling all his pals. the likelihood of stephen successfully being jumped is low, however, when he can sense the auras of those around him, occasionally picking up on fleeting thoughts.

        “i mean, you could stop beating the crap out of anyone you have a disagreement with.”

[vayusi-blog]

ixchel.

@vayusi

Ixchel stood nervously with her side pressed against the door frame of one of her professors offices, extension form clenched gently in her hands as she fought the urge to get overly nervous. Generally Ixchel tried her best to be on top of all her school work and the fact that she wouldn’t be able to get the essay done in time stressed her out almost as much as asking for the extension did. 

“Professor Crowley?” The young woman spoke up after the previous student had left. To say the energies swirling around the teacher were confusing would be an understatement, though the young shaman pushed the thought aside quickly to focus on the matter at hand. 

“I need to request an extension on the essay– I’ve got the form here and everything…” 

        the professor’s out for the week, his wife having given birth, and stephen’s had to take his place for the time being. it’s nothing he’s not used to, but it is definitely keeping him much busier than he had been prior. he leans back in the chair of his office, peering beneath the desk at fine black oxford shoes. yet another student finally inches into the room, her voice making him look up.

        ah, yes. this one’s caught his attention from the start. there’s something about her, a familiar aura that dances around her. it reminds him of himself. fingertips ghost over the mahogany desk and a smile tugs at his lips.

        “sure, let me see,” and he takes the form, looking it over thoroughly. he clicks his pen, signs his name on the proper line, before handing the form back to the girl. he leans forward curiously, elbows on his knees and forearms hanging lazily between his legs. he squints at her, smiles again. “thanks for letting me know. don’t stress too much about it. i can tell you have other things to worry about.”

[vayusi-blog]

@gatcs | from here

        “just because you didn’t kill him doesn’t negate the fact he’s unconscious in the hospital.”

        mouth quirks downwards, displeasure evident upon his face. there is the temptation, of course, to probe through the other’s mind for answers. yet he knows to treat men like this as what they are: men. human beings. there’s always a chance to redeem themselves, to become someone different. that’s what stephen believes, and he’s always brushed off as being ‘crazy’ for it... but the rehabilitation of criminals which he involves himself so heavily in rarely ever fails, from his experience.

[kylor]

[vayusi-blog]

★ █ ▌NOTICE!

        this is something i need to establish right off the bat. most of the characters i play are dark, sad, usually villains. if you’re coming to my blog from one of those blogs, i need to make it clear: stephen is kind, gentle, well-meaning, he had a happy life. he’s very heavily involved in the rehabilitation/recovery of the villains he fights, because he wants to help. he knows when someone has the potential to be good. he’s always a bit sad when one of them aren’t able to get better, to become good, but he did his best.

        anyways, i was going to say: of course i’m going to do dark threads, angst threads, whatever. stephen is a human being with a lot of emotions, he’s very sensitive! and in his line of work, a lot of bad things are going to happen! but this blog is also meant to help me cope with my depression by just playing someone who’s content with life in general. over the course of this blog, things might change with him. he will develop. but i want him to remain a good-hearted person who always finds something to smile about. i’m not really here for the “break the cutie” trope.

        thanks!

[vayusi-blog]

@toughcup

        he always comes to this little coffee shop to keep his mind off things. work, the cute employee at the verizon wireless store whom he knows he has no chance with, whatever criminal he had to wipe the floor with the night before. it’s just nice to drown his worries in a cup of coffee, sweetened beyond belief with vanilla creamer and copious amounts of sugar.

        something in the air changes, however. invisible sparks go off in the café. no one else seems to notice. there’s a prickle in his spine, lashes fluttering, and he hears it. a voice, feminine but curt, yet clear as day. he sits in the far corner of the café. he couldn’t hear anyone that well over the chatter of everyone else.

        fuck every single one of these rich bastards with free time. i just want a muffin.

        eyes settle on the woman then, the one that had just entered. head cants to the side curiously, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. stephen shifts in his seat, bringing his near-empty coffee cup to his lips and sipping... before he catches himself staring. embarrassment floods his mind, and he looks away fast. he just prays she didn’t notice as he hides himself in whatever’s on the screen of his phone.

[vayusi-blog]

... once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man. || ( superhero original character, written by zacharie. )

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