HMU IF YOU WANT TO THREAD WITH THE KING OF JERK
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HMU IF YOU WANT TO THREAD WITH THE KING OF JERK
I've only got three threads going on right now I think so heyyy send me an ask and we can plot something up.

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even the lawless can value good hygiene [ᴏᴘᴇɴ]
Peter stared at the man for a few seconds with a Really? look on his face. He knew the guy had seen him and his embarrassing trial with the machine. Was he really gonna hold out on him?
"My clothes are kind of stuck and—you know what, I’ll even give you back the quarter." If he was going to deal with a stickler he’d play like one. "Pinky swear and all that." He walked over to one of the machines closer to the back wall and picked up a long thread. If these machines were as old as Peter suspected them to be… the oldest trick in the book would work on them. He just needed a careful hand.
He walked back over and checked his laundry. His poor clothes… stewing in a damp pile. “So? Do you have one?”
Ohhh, Alvin knew that trick. Yeah, this kid was okay.
"Well, alright. I can't say no to that."
He stood up and placed his soda on the bench so he could rummage around his pockets for that stray coin. After pulling it from his back pocket, he tested its weight, placed it on his thumb then flicked it towards the kid. The strength was enough to reach him, but Alvin wasn't sure if he would actually be able to catch it from that distance. Either end would be entertaining.
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
Making the other want to piss himself was not exactly Daylen’s intention, but when you possessed such dangerous magic that thing tended to happen. Walking Bomb was possibly the most violent spell he had with his messy results, and some just ended up being shocked by it. Others wondered how someone who was apparently a heroic figure could use it. While Daylen did ant to protect people, he didn’t call himself a hero because he felt he was especially heroic. He called himself that only because it was the title Alistair gave him.
The mage firmly believed in both showing kindness and helping others. Despite being in a position where questionable things needed to be done, he had his own principles.
Alvin had leaned back, getting out of Daylen’s space for the moment.
“Let me take an educated guess. I won’t be the last either?”
Well, sarcasm was an Amell family tradition. That and being badass apparently.
There was an exaggerated motion of Alvin placing his hand on chest, followed by inflected words, "Aw, I'm hurt. Have a little faith, Daylen!"
It was already long ago that he decided he held no fear of death. The suicidal tendencies had only come up very recently before he jumped to Hive City, but if he was going to be honest, right now he felt he didn't want to kick the bucket anyway. No fear, but no desire. Just pointless forward movement.
worthwhile waste of money [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: sʜᴇᴘᴀʀᴅ]
Well, at least he was smart enough to catch on to her sarcasm - that was something she would give him at least. (It wasn’t much, but it was something nonetheless.) At the same time, however, that meant she had to be even more careful around him. He wasn’t just some idiot that was trying to chat her up at the bar. No, he was clever, and being clever meant being unpredictable.
She would just have to keep her eye on him, even if that meant forcing herself to take part of the meaningless conversation that seemed to only be the calm before the storm.
Though Shepard wasn’t sure why she cared, she chose to repeat his name silently to herself a few times. Even if it wouldn’t matter later on, she had a habit of remembering names of everyone she came across. People that were long gone due to death, or other circumstances. People that she may never see again. All of them were remembered, even if their faces had been forgotten long ago.
“Relaxing, same as anyone else that comes here, I s’pose.” She replied bluntly, turning her head to finally fully look at him. If he wasn’t going away, she might as well have played along.
“I’m assuming the same for you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement.
How fantastic, through his amazing charm, he managed to get the scary soldier woman to open up! Conversations were much more interesting when both participants spoke more than a few words per sentence. Glory be, maybe poor, misunderstood Alfred was finally going to make a friend in this wonderful town--
Oh, who was he kidding?
Still, this was progress. Maybe enough so that he could hint towards the next step. Alvin wasn't sure how much liquor this woman could handle. He was expecting it to be less than him, considering their difference in height and weight, but assuming something as crucial as that could lead to a major blunder. Baby steps.
"Hard to relax with just one beer, though." Along with a small pout, his eyebrows perked when he looked again at Shepard, somewhat expectantly but also challenging.
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
Well, this had turned out unusual for the both of the. Not every day someone tries to pickpocket you and about ten minutes later you’re working as a team. Crisis tends to bring people together sometimes. Although this fight against the thugs was one-sided considering who they were facing.
The other man had leaned in, and mumbled to the mage. Honestly Daylen wasn’t sure if they were still being silly with pickpocket terms or whatever they were doing now.
"I am sure you’ll find the rigorous practice needed with the right target. Just make sure to be sharp and fast whenever you do it.”
The Hero of Ferelden honestly had no plans of using this as some kind of advantage over the other. It was merely an act of kindness the mage was used to giving out.
“Just try not to be too risky. Getting in too deep without knowing what you’re facing or even things about this city can get you killed. Even if that is less of a permanent solution, you will still feel the after effects.”
If Alvin didn't want to outright piss himself, he was sure he could say he liked this man. He was still playing it safe this time around though, assuming that Daylen would spring him with something sometime down the road. No harm in a little caution, right, and if it ever ended up that it wasn't the case, and he could turn it around... Well. No complaints.
Unfortunately for Daylen, there was no such thing as an act of kindness to this man. He doesn't expect to recieve them, and he doesn't give them.
He leaned back, getting out of the mage's personal space, and chuckled, "You know, you're not the first to tell me that."

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even the lawless can value good hygiene [ᴏᴘᴇɴ]
Peter was finally reminded why, back at home, he had made himself several Spidey costumes.
"C’mon, no, don’t eat my quarter, are you kidding me?"
Laundry was awful. Not having a washing machine was even worse. Still he refused to let his suit—or the rest of his clothes—get rank. Smell stuck to spandex and stayed. He jiggled the machine lightly, trying to get his quarter to go in just a little freaking more. Nothing. And the freaking machine was locked too, so his clothes and costume were stuck in soapy hell. He resorted to kicking the machine once, and, forgetting that his strength was not what it used to be, hopped away with pain pulsating in his foot.
He froze when he heard another machine in the laundromat start a cycle. Peter picked this time of the day to come because no one was ever there at this time. He turned slowly to look to see who the newcomer was.
"You… wouldn’t happen to have a quarter, would you?"
Watching some kid kick a washing machine was pretty good entertainment. Looked the do-gooder type, aside from the spontaneous burst of anger, so Alvin wasn't entirely sure why he'd be here now of all times, instead of in the day when there was less risk in getting a quarter eaten.
Not his place to ask.
He took a slow, deliberate drink of his soda, contemplating his next words. Sure, he may have had a golden heart and all that, but that didn't mean he was going to cough up a quarter that easily. Mostly for shits and giggles, really. He had one in his pocket right now and wouldn't miss it if he decided to give it out.
"Maybe. What's it to you?"
even the lawless can value good hygiene [ᴏᴘᴇɴ]
Washing his face after the previous night's fight was one thing, but now Alvin's coat and scarf and, well every part of his favourite outfit was mucked up and that wouldn't do. He slept well enough, but he wouldn't be able to go through the day without his clothes in order. Call him vain, but that's how he was. First thing he did at the break of dawn was grab a duffel bag and take his bloodied clothes to the dry cleaner's.
Sipping a soda, he sat on a bench near the washing machines, listening to their tumbling. He wasn't going to move until his load was finished. Didn't want to risk someone stealing his coat.
He really liked that coat.
dioleft started following you
matters of taste [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: sᴀɴᴛᴀ]
He snorted, not at all convinced by the man’s constant display of bravado. It was Alvin’s funeral, then, one he had no reason to attend. Not that he wanted a guy with good taste in coffee to kick the bucket quite so soon. That’d be a waste of a drinking buddy.
"Here’s hoping business ain’t that good," he quipped, running a hand through his gelled locks. His lips pinched together into a smug crooked line. "A little world peace never hurt anyone." He made it a point not to give out his address in return.
An amused huff. Business was always good, it was just a matter of finding it.
As far as Alvin knew, whatever peace was, it was held up by the people willing to do the dirty work behind it. Not that he was going to get into some big philosophical discussion in a coffee shop. Definitely not drunk enough for that. "Whatever you say, kid."
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
The mage had charm in his own way, but it was the inexplicable ability to get people to believe in a cause. There was this charisma which made people believe they could defeat the Blight; that it could be accomplished. In the end, his words had turned out to be true despite points when he didn’t believe what he was saying.
"Well, if you do not have such a gentle touch perhaps it is best to avoid it then? Unless you get better at being up close and personal with targets.”
Although Daylen had only stole from the rich, and it was in the name of defiance against Howe rather than just theft.
The mage had dug into his robes, pulling out some money. He didn’t have much with him, but it was something.
“Here take this. You could use this more than I do, and for the moment it should hopefully at least pay for food. I would however recommend ot trying this again. Not everyone will be as understanding.”
"Now that's an idea." While Alvin's expression was more amused than anything, his voice became gravelly, and he leaned in, mumbling. "But for that, I'd need some rigorous practice, wouldn't you say?"
His eyes dropped to the cash in Daylen's hand. He stared at it blankly for a few moments before accepting it with a rough sigh and silent debt. "We all take risks," though gambling was never his strong suit. If his luck fell short, he was in some deep shit accepting this aid. He hoped this Daylen wouldn't use it as leverage for whatever his sick mind (exploding people) desired, but if Alvin was frank, he was expecting it. What he needed was money, and his pride was expendable, swallowed down when coin met his palm.
What a fantastic night.

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matters of taste [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: sᴀɴᴛᴀ]
His brow cocked at Alvin’s word of gratitude. Any man who went looking for cash under the table was worth the extra dose of scrutiny, never mind Alvin’s friendly disposition. It was clear that the other man was hiding something behind his jolly good nature and amicable behavior.
"Yeah? Don’t sweat it." The day Santa started policing people was the day he ended up on at least a dozen shit lists. Beyond his psychic abilities, he was as average as human got. It wasn’t like he could survive getting flung off a building or slamming into a wall the way anime characters could, and he’d seen those fights break out in this very city; he never bothered to stick around to see how those got resolved. It was just too damn dangerous for a guy like him.
He peered into his coffee cup. Empty. Santa tucked his fingers under the base of it and tossed it into the air as if shooting for a basketball hoop. It arched right into the trashbin. “Word of advice, though… Try not to make any enemies. There’s no telling what the people in this place are capable of.”
Alvin was used to coming off that way already. In fact, he really didn't care how people reacted to his 'jolly good nature'. Suckers that fell for it deserved what was coming, snobs who looked down upon it were fun to pull down, and folks who showed caution kept him on his toes. It was a social dance the he was happy to oblige. Anything to keep life interesting.
Santa's advice brought a quiet laugh out of Alvin. He was touched by the idealism in the statement. Enemies though, well, he couldn't imagine a life without them. Vanishing was an art he had honed from childhood, and he was certain he'd have to practice it again here. "All part of the business, I'm afraid."
Maybe he was too stubborn for his own good. Maybe he was absolutely despicable. This is the path he had chosen, though, and he wasn't inclined on turning back now of all times. "How about this: you ever get caught up in some mess you can't handle, feel free to come my way. I'll give you a special discount. Apartment Q-4."
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
At least being odd made the bot of them interesting. This city seemed to be filled with as many interesting people as the scientists could gather.
“I understand. I could not count how many of the friends I have in my country I met while they were trying to kill me. It seems to have become a habit of mine. Either someone’s trying to kill me or someone is trying to pickpocket me.”
He was being completely serious. Zevran, Nathaniel, Velanna technically counts. The mage had met the assassin Daud in this city when the older man tried to pickpocket him.
The mage wanted to wash his robes as well. Thankfully his house was not that far from here.
“A pleasure to meet you. I only wish it was under different circumstances. If you are looking for work, I believe there are bounties around the city. But to ask you a question. How long have you been in this city exactly?”
His old charm seemed to be coming back a bit. He smirked, "Must be interesting company, at least." He was the shadiest of his old group of companions. Actually, considering that he betrayed them so often, it was a surprise they treated him as one of them at all. "And ah... I've been here for a bit over a week?"
Alvin flicked some hair away from his eyes. "I don't really do the whole pickpocket thing often. Neither got the gentle touch nor unassuming aura for it."
But, there was no easier way to eventually stumble upon rich, powerful individuals with a need for dirty business than to dive right into the whole shtick. No easier way to get killed, too, but from what he understood of this setting, that was less of an issue than it would've been at home.
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
In Thedas, you were considered cursed if you had magic. So Daylen had been forced to become the Hero of Ferelden, but still hated by some for how he became a hero. Magic. Not by being a warrior or even a rogue. The Amell family had fell to ruins because they kept birthing mage children. So really in his world Daylen was the odd one.
The mage knew nearly nothing about guns apart from what he’d seen in this city, and while his hand had been tried at swordplay it did not really suit him. Using Winter’s Breath was still the way to go. While he considered this normal, the only type of magic Daylen was against happened to be blood magic. The experience in the Circle with Uldred may have taken him off that path for life.
To him, it was just a spell. Like the projectile the other man had used was just an attack.
“Sparing you? But I had no intention of attacking you in the first place. The only reason I reacted this way is because I can recognize killing intent when I see it. Those men did not just want our belongings, but planned to do away with us as well. We were defending ourselves.
The spells might have given you a false impression of me. I’m actually rather nice despite the grizzly effect my magic might have created. Daylen Amell, Hero of Ferelden at your service. Even if you had attacked me, I knew you would be doing it for a reason and so at worst I would attempt to knock you out. I would not kill you.”
Both oddballs in opposite ways. How wonderful.
"Yes, well, you can't be too cautious. I don't have to list every time someone's told me to trust them, only for them to have some ulterior motive." Was that a description of himself? Whoops. And what weird hero this was, exploding people. From now on, he was dubbing Daylen Explodey. "My name's Alvin, sword for hire. Excellent cost-performance, if you're ever looking. Not that you'd need it."
He wiped his sticky hand onto his pant leg, but to no avail, as his pants weren't any cleaner. Yeah, a cold shower and change of clothes would do nicely right about now.
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
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Spirit artes in Rieze Maxia were less some sort of supernatural phenomenon and more a regular part of life. In fact, basically everyone could channel, and Alvin himself was actually the odd one out, being one of the few who couldn't.
He had become accustomed to combat from early childhood, but the clean cut of a sword or shot of a gun was nothing compared to this... insane destruction. Wherever he was dropped, there was some fucked up shit going on. At least today he learned what man exactly he wasn't going to screw with. Especially if he could call exploding people 'just a spell'.
Just a spell. Right. No comment.
There was a wallet in the man's coat pocket, which Alvin took for himself. He let out an unamused snort. "Well, if you're saying I don't have to split it, then suit yourself." He stood, agreeing on the whole handshake business. "Thanks for the advice, anyway. And for sparing me. I'll try to stay out of your way from now on."
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
The thing with spells like Blizzard is that they required a closer proximity to work. It also didn’t help that the spell took a few seconds to cast compared to others, but the man had been injured enough that Daylen could pull it off just fine. What happened next was something he’d done during the Blight many times. It just made sense when you considered what the spell could do and that you’d have other warriors with you.
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He listened to Daylen's speech and watched the result in stunned silence.
As the final wave of human remains rained down on the scene, he finally became aware of the smell. Blood and piss dampening the air and sticking to his skin. The pickpocketing trouble seemed very distant compared to what just happened.
He hoped the channeler put that behind him, too, because of all the ways Alvin could imagine himself dying, exploding was not on the list. He didn't try to cover up his disgust with a usual grin.
"Just fine. I think I need to take a long, cold shower though."
As he said that, he walked over to the intact body, beginning to pat it down in search of some sort of pouch, or anything that could hold money or other valuables.

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petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
It wasn’t uncommon for some worlds, but mages from some places would look at you like it was the strangest things. Some didn’t even call themselves mages in this city, using alternative names for themselves. Wizards for example. While Daylen had practiced some swordplay himself, he was certainly much better using his staff in battle. Keeping distance away from the enemy then striking with a spell was a wise tactic, and usually one that paid off.
But now it was time to continue on. This time, the mage had something slightly different in mind.
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At first he was somewhat confused at why Daylen would approach a man despite earlier keeping his distance, but everything clicked when the ice-element spell was cast. If Alvin didn't know better, he'd say this channeler was blessed by Maxwell himself.
The command he was given made a twisted sort of sense.
petty crime [ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ: ᴅᴀʏʟᴇɴ]
Really, it would have made a lot more sense for them to run. But this thing seemed to happen to the mage often. Bandits in Ferelden had heard of his reputation and what he was capable of but still decided to try their luck. The end result was usually a quick death for them if they were lucky. At one point in Denerim, Daylen had been asked why people still attacked him. Were they really that stupid? The Warden could only say they were. Either that or the promise of a bounty blinded them to the real danger he possessed.
What made Thedas mages different from mages in other worlds is that some mages only seemed to have control of one element. If you saw Daylen you would think ice, but for example he’d just used an Earth type of projectile.
At first there were just the five left, but then Alvin had made his next move.
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A fire-element attack had come next. It wasn't uncommon in his world for people to learn more than one type, though specializing was certainly a thing. Alvin himself had no access to magic, though some of his martial artes did manage to seemingly channel fire as well, through the heat of his gun or otherwise.
One of the thugs on the ground had started to scoot backwards, frantically searching for the weapon he had dropped earlier. That wasn't who Alvin was focused on, instead being the other man who had fallen during his previous attack.
He almost admired the chum's perseverance. The force had broken the thug's nose, and his face was swollen, yet he had quickly managed to stand up and charge, gripping a large kitchen knife in both hands. Not quickly enough, though. Alvin sidestepped and tripped the man, who tumbled forward, face landing next to the body of his former companion.
Not checking to relish any sort of horrified expressions, Alvin raised his blade and thrust the tip downward, letting gravity propel it even further. Though not truly cutting, the sword had effectively destroyed the man's spine, and after several haphazard twitches, the body went limp.
Two.