#( ocm : brisbane bagley the kind old grandpa roo )

[vendettavalor]

⚔️ STARDEW VALLEY CHARACTER CREATOR ⚔️

BRISBANE BAGLEY // PIPER BAGLEY

NIMONA // MEILIN LEE

Source: MALE VER. // FEMALE VER.

Tagged by: @tacticalvalor

Tagging: YOU!

[vendettavalor]

@tacticalvalor said: [ bloody ] sender arrives at receiver's doorstep bleeding and injured -> toni and brisbane

⚔️ "You're The Only Person I Can Turn To" Prompts // CLOSED ⚔️

"Rainbow's Bridge, love! What've ya done to ya self?" The curse is breathlessly whispered as Bris takes hold of Toni's arm and practically drags her in to sit down. Despite the quick pace with which he darts about gathering his needed materials, he seems remarkably calm. As though a severe patch-job like this is normal for him. And it is.

If his stories are to be believed, Brisbane has seen people at his door just barely warmed over from Death himself. Her injuries are severe, but not nearly the worst he has seen in his long lifetime of fighting.

From the kitchen, he pulls a large suitcase filled with various medical supplies. So much as a twitch or shuddering breath out of line draws a quiet scolding from him as he moves to clean her up. The blood is swept from her face with such softness and care, a ginger smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he swipes the drying gore away to reveal her facial scars and her heavy eyes. She is a mess, her hair knotted and matted, her eyes tired and bloodshot, and a layer of grime and sweat coating her features. Yet even still -

"There's my beautiful gal, eh? Much betta." He coos, before moving on to the actual injury. It's a deep gash in her shoulder. Judging by the cauterization of the wound and the prominent smell of burning flesh, it was likely inflicted by something Sith. Bris clicks his tongue, half tempted to take off with his charged whip into the night and hunt down whoever did this so he can choke them with his bare hands. Somehow, though, he resists and settles for smearing a cool, numbing bacta gel on the wound before bandaging it.

"I'll have to give ya stitches, but you're in no condition for me to do that now. Rest, love. And I'll take care of everythin'."

[vendettavalor]

@tacticalvalor said: say, you know, you were great back there. -> toni and brisbane

⚔️ Roman Holiday Prompts // CLOSED ⚔️

"Ya think so? That's high praise comin' from you, love."

The smile he gave Antonia was toothy and lopsided. Lighthearted, kind, and nonchalant, just like he was. Incredible, given the fight they'd just managed to narrowly claw their way out of. Even more so considering that this was by no means a first or a last for him.

Much like her, Brisbane was a soldier. He'd spent most of his life at war, though not entirely enlisted in any service. Life under the Empire was a battle - a never-ending struggle that required utmost vigilance and a seemingly endless supply of endurance to fuel one's survival. How he'd managed to keep going despite losing everything was a mystery. The man had guts. But more than that, he had heart.

"Come on then. They scratched ya up somethin' nasty. I wanna take care of that before it has a chance to get infected." Same old Bris. Always so caring, so concerned about everyone else before himself. He offered her his arm and his shoulder to hold onto and lean on while they slowly made their way back. The way he cared for her was something to admire. His devotion after such ferocity was something to admire - and fear.

And anyone who thought of hurting Toni while he was around had best be afraid of Brisbane Bagley.

[vendettavalor]

⚔️ MUSE INTERVIEW ⚔️

BRISBANE BAGLEY

NICKNAME:

“Name’s Brisbane. People usually call me Bris ‘less I’m workin’ with ‘em, related to ‘em, or huntin’ them. Then it’s Bris, Pa, or Bagley respectively.”

GENDER:

“I believe the kids these days call it transgender? It’s hard work keepin’ up with the terms when they keep changin’, and I’m an old man so forgive me, yeah? Me n’ my wife swapped bits a bit later n’ life than most. She wanted to be a Sheila, I wanted to be a bloke, so that’s what we did. In any case, I can’t be arsed to put a real label to it anymore. I’ve gone by he, I’ve gone by she, I’ve gone by they, I’ve gone by it. Can’t say I care too much anymore at my age. Just call me Cerelum- or Captain, if nothin’ else. I don’t mind.”

ORIENTATION:

“The term bisexual still exists, dunnit? That’s what I’ve always identified as. Can’t pick, ya see. Too many bloody gorgeous people across the spectrum for me to settle on just one.”

NATIONALITY/ETHNICITY:

“I’m Aboriginal Australian on my father’s side and plain ol’ colonizer Australian on my mother’s. Long way of saying- I’m full Australian, mate. Just in case the roo ears and tail didn’ give it away.”

HEIGHT:

“Last I checked, I was 198 centimeters. So that’s… what, around 6’6” in Eagle units? ‘Course that was when I enlisted and like I said, I’m old. Mighta shrunk since I got me first star patch but it’s around there I reckon.”

STAR SIGN:

“Myths don’t subscribe to that astrology stuff, sorry. Not sure what it means. I think we have our own version of it but I’m gonna be honest- it’s all rubbish to me. Never paid attention so I can’t give ya a real answer.”

FAVE FRUIT:

“Watermelon. Bonnie’s was always a stick in the mud about it- said it just tasted like water. She preferred mangoes or passionfruit, hard as they were to get her hands on. Me personally, I loved it. Nothin’ betta to have on a hot day sittin’ on ya porch. It’s cool, it’s refreshing, and if ya know how to pick ‘em, they’re real sweet.”

FAVE SEASON:

“I always preferred the fall. Harvest season always brought about the best of summer’s end and autumn’s beginning. Cool but not cold, sunny but not hot. Ideal time for huntin’ and outdoor activities like that. Bonnie and I used to take picnics every weekend we could out in the park near home. Watch the leaves fall and the animals fatten up on the stores they’d built up. Nice time, I’d say.”

FAVE FLOWER:

“Protea. Pink and orange ones especially. It was somethin’ Bonnie n’ I used to bond over actually - we had the same favorite flower. Every anniversary and holiday we’d build a bouquet of them together. Used to have a garden full of em’. Good times those were. Our house never lacked for color, I’ll tell ya that for free.”

FAVE SCENT:

“Almonds. Reminds me of my wife. The lass was obsessed with them. Her favorite treat they were. She’d eat them till she made herself sick, swear em’ off, then go right back to ‘em. Like clockwork. My sweet gal- she was a right mess at times she was.”

COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

“‘M Australian, mate. It’s tea morning, noon, and night. Personally prefer something with a stronger fruit flavor than your usual earl grey or green. Morning tea’s usually something with caffeine to wake up, noon might be green tea with honey and lemon for health, but it’s always chamomile with milk and lavender at night. And I don’t think I need to mention that I prefer my drinks hot.”

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

“I try to get my eight to nine hours. Truthfully though, I don’t think I’ve slept more than four or five at time since I enlisted. It would take a real Act of God or miracle for that to happen at this point.”

DOG PERSON OR CAT PERSON:

“Dogs, actually. Maybe I’m just not afraid enough of dingoes. But I’ve seen what cats have done to some of the native populations in other places. I’ll take dogs over that any day. ‘Sides, I’ve had better luck working with dogs on farms and ranches than I ever have with cats.”

DREAM TRIP:

“If ‘m bein’ honest, I love travel. Part of the reason Bonnie n’ I enjoyed our time in the service, aside from knowin’ the difference we were makin’, was being able to hop from place to place. We saw Europe, we saw the Americas, we even went as far down South as Cape Town. Those were the days.

We always dreamed of taking a long trip once the war was over. No place in particular. Just our pile of savings, couple’a backpacks and passports, and off we’d go. By plane or by cruise or by rental, we just wanted to wander the world. See all the hidden gems hiding behind the tourist traps. Taste all the delicacies we could never stick around for at our own leisure, make camp in woodlands and parks sleeping under the stars. Maybe work occasional odd jobs. We didn’t want a formal plan. We just wanted to live wild and free for a bit before we finally laid roots back home. ‘N even though Bonnie’s gone, some part of me would still like to make good on that dream.”

NUMBER OF BLANKETS THEY SLEEP WITH:

“Bit of an odd one, innit? I try to rotate blankets but I have three main ones. A weighted one scented like lavender to help with the nighttime anxiety, a home made stuffed duvet that my own grandparents gave me on my wedding day, and a thick crocheted piece made with love and left to me by my wife. I take good care of all three. Got a lotta sentiment to them, you know? The memories they carry are bittersweet they are - but I wouldn’t change a thing about them.”

RANDOM FACT:

“I’m seventy years young and I’ve got… twenty three? No- twenty five grandkits. I love each and every one of them to pieces. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen much of them since my daughter up an’ ran off with the man she married. He always did give me a bad feelin’… I know the oldest three are a clever bunch and would take good care of their younger ones. Still, I hope to the goddess they alright, and I won’t rest until I find them and know for certain that everythin’s okay. Especially with the second oldest. Piper always was the kit closest to me. I’d do anythin’ to make sure my little lightning bolt’s still kickin’ somewhere out there.”

TAGGED BY: @tacticalvalor (From main- thanks boo! ❤️)

TAGGING: Y O U!

[vendettavalor]

@tacticalvalor said: [HAIR]: in the process of pushing the receiver's hair back from their face, the sender lets their hand rest against the receiver's cheek a moment longer. -> bris and toni

⚔️ Reasons to Cup a Face Prompts // CLOSED ⚔️

He's no stranger to the gesture. He doesn't even draw his gaze away from the sight of the scope he's looking down, but she can still catch the way his lashes flutter. Her calloused fingers brush the long dark strands back from where they've fallen against his brow, following the gentle curve of them down and tucking them back behind one large ear. As she brings her hand back down, it skims along the apple of his cheek and comes to rest against the soft, warm skin there. The backs of her fingers linger along tanned flesh textured with scars and the stubbly edges of his well-maintained beard.

Finally, his eyes move to look at her. Split colors drink her in and threaten to melt her between warm, honey gold and cool, ocean blue. Her breath momentarily hitches as she feels him leans into her touch. His eyes momentarily flutter shut as he nuzzles into her palm, soothed by skin that is just as calloused and just as scarred as his own. Then he turns and presses his coarse lips to her palm in a delicate kiss and she can't help but smile. It is a fleeting moment of intimacy, so rare and so impermanent in a situation such as this. The cruel reality of war is that it offers so little time for the beauty of the mundane such as this. Yet even still, they will drink in this moment while they can. Savor the flutter it brings to their hearts.

Before he must turn away from her again and look back down the scope. Before the dawn's early light breaks on the horizon and the speakers around them are alive with bugles. Before the smell of blood and dust stings their nostrils as they are sent rushing into battle once more as the dogs of war. Before they will have to forsake the tenderness they hold so close to themselves in order to be good weapons of war, cruel and unfeeling and practical and effective.

But for now, they can just be people together.