#note: ginger is genderfluid and uses all pronouns | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

remuscore · 3 years

Note

please post them my goodness

Okay hang on

Patton

Full Name: Patton Leslie Picani.

Date of Birth: January 15th.

Age: 28.

Gender: Genderfluid.

Presentation: Masculine or feminine; switches.

Pronouns: He/him and she/her.

Sexual Orientation: Aromantic Pansexual.

Status: Single.

Height: 5’8.”

Body Type: Heavyweight; strong.

Hair Color: Black and blonde; uses temporary dyes sometimes.

Hair Type: Corse; fade haircut.

Eye Color: Dark brown/black.

Race(s): African decent.

Piercing(s): None.

Tattoo(s): None.

Physical: None.

Mental: Severe clinical depression and Bipolar 1.

Family:

Parent(s): Emile Jacob Picani and Leah Flowers Picani (dead).

Sibling(s): Jeremy “Remy” Micah Picani.

Pet(s): None.

Occupation(s): HR worker.

Skill(s): Comedy, gardening, cooking, baking, and caretaking.

Goal(s): To work with children, have a little cottage with tons of plants and animals, and tons of friends.

Logan

Full Name: Logan Mackenzie La Ray.

Date of Birth: November 3rd.

Age: 20.

Gender: Agender.

Presentation: Masculine.

Pronouns: They/them.

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual.

Status: Taken (w Roman and Virgil).

Height: 5’10.”

Body Type: Underweight.

Hair Color: Dirty blonde; shoulder length.

Hair Type: Wavy.

Eye Color: Brown and light blue; Heterochromia.

Race(s): White.

Piercing(s): Both lobes and two flats on left ear.

Tattoo(s): Stick and poke Gemini constellation on right wrist, E=Mc^2 written on the crook of elbow.

Physical: Disordered eating.

Mental: Autism and disordered eating.

Family:

Parent(s): Vivian Ann La Ray.

Sibling(s): Thomas Foley Sanders (half-brother).

Pet(s): None.

Occupation(s): Lab Assistance for a medical researcher; college student.

Skill(s): Math, writing, problem solving, teaching, drawing, and cooking.

Goal(s): To get a general teaching degree, a good paying job at a high standing school, pay off student loans by 40s, and maybe have a long healthy relationship with Roman and Virgil or whatever.

Roman

Full Name: Roman Henry Maurice Romeo.

Date of Birth: June 25th.

Age: 19.

Gender: Male.

Presentation: Masculine with lots of feminine aspects; sometimes completely feminine.

Pronouns: He/him.

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual.

Status: Taken (w Logan and Virgil).

Height: 6’1.”

Body Type: Fit; a little soft in the belly and upper arms.

Hair Color: Brown and white (dyed brown).

Hair Type: Curly; just beyond the ears.

Eye Color: Hazel.

Race(s): Afro-Latino.

Piercing(s): Both lobes, both upper lobes, and a nose stud on right side.

Tattoo(s): A couple branches with red flowers on left arm, stems aimed at the wrists and the flowers aimed at the crook of the elbow, but spread out with the leaves and two hearts on the outside of wrist on left arm, colored red.

Physical: Piebaldism and chronic joint pain.

Mental: ADHD, PTSD, clinical anxiety, and clinical depression.

Family:

Parent(s): Luis Javier Teo Romeo and Marianne Evelyn Romeo.

Sibling(s): Remus Luis Edward Romeo and Elijah David Charles Romeo (half-brother).

Pet(s): None.

Occupation(s): Baker for a small bakery; college student.

Skill(s): Drawing, singing, acting, music, writing, and dancing.

Goal(s): To become a famous Broadway actor and rich as all hell with the most handsome, successful husband in the world (maybe two handsome successful husbands at this point).

Remus

Full Name: Remus Luis Edward Romeo.

Date of Birth: June 25th.

Age: 19.

Gender: Non-binary.

Presentation: Masculine/androgynous.

Pronouns: Any, but most use He/They.

Sexual Orientation: Queer/unlabeled.

Status: Taken (w Janus).

Height: 6’1.”

Body Type: Thin.

Hair Color: Brown and white.

Hair Type: Curly; shaggy with Mohawk shaved sides.

Eye Color: Hazel.

Race(s): Afro-Latino.

Piercing(s): Both lobes, both upper lobes, orbital, industrial one left, both tangus, both nostrils, tongue, right eyebrow, vertical labret, and belly button.

Tattoo(s): Stick and poke devil smiley face under right ribs, decapitated rat head on right breast, teeth wrapped around left nipple, barbed wire under breasts, matching skulls on stomach tongues reaching to bellybutton, stick and poke “Notes” on right arm, spiderweb on right elbow, knife on left forearm pointing at elbow, stick and poke guy on skateboard with “Eat Ass” on right thigh, black and red crosses on right thigh, “Carl Marx” written above both knees, “Fuck Me” written above hips on lower back, big stitched up scar on the left side of head, and stick and pokes of his rats on each arm with their names.

Physical: Piebaldism, bad vision in left eye, and chronic joint pain.

Mental: ADHD, PTSD, and clinical depression.

Family:

Parent(s): Luis Javier Teo Romeo and Marianne Evelyn Romeo.

Sibling(s): Roman Henry Maurice Romeo and Elijah David Charles Romeo (half-brother).

Pet(s): Jonathan and Butt Plug (domestic rats).

Occupation(s): Janitor for an office (name forgotten).

Skill(s): Drawing, singing, music, and writing.

Goal(s): To not get killed and maybe live to be a weird old guy.

Janus

Full Name: Janus Rain Greyson.

Date of Birth: February 3rd.

Age: 21.

Gender: Female.

Presentation: Feminine or androgynous.

Pronouns: She/her.

Sexual Orientation: Queer.

Status: Taken (w Remus).

Height: 5’3.”

Body Type: Triangular; flat.

Hair Color: Ginger (dyed).

Hair Type: Wavy; long with shaved sides.

Eye Color: Green.

Race(s): Asian and White.

Piercing(s): Lobes, upper lobes, two helixes on left and one on right, right nostril, philtrum, and snake bites.

Tattoo(s): Thin vines wrapped around left wrist leading down to elbow, one thin vine wrapped around right wrist, a moth and two cover up lines above on right bicep, coffin with a skull in it on right thigh spread out almost all the way down to the knee stabbed with a cross, eyeball on the back of neck, and snake with two heads leading down sternum.

Physical: Port-wine stain birthmark, anisocoria, seizures, and Tourettes.

Mental: Clinical depression.

Family:

Parent(s): Dean Jackson Warren, Ruth Rose Greyson, and Monica Greyson.

Sibling(s): Virgil Storm Greyson.

Pet(s): Jekyll and Hyde (two headed corn snake).

Occupation(s): Bartender; college student.

Skill(s): Dancing, fashion, poetry, and self care.

Goal(s): To live long enough to be a successful, lawyer and just in general a rich as fuck woman. Also a hot wife would be delightful.

Virgil

Full Name: Virgil Storm Greyson.

Date of Birth: December 19th.

Age: 19.

Gender: Demiboy.

Presentation: Masculine.

Pronouns: He/They.

Sexual Orientation: Questioning and Asexual.

Status: Taken (w Logan and Roman).

Height: 6’3.”

Body Type: Chubby; fluctuating weight.

Hair Color: Black (dyed purple fringe).

Hair Type: Wavy and thick; very shaggy haircut.

Eye Color: Dark brown/black.

Race(s): Asian and White.

Piercing(s): Both lobes, both upper lobes, septum, dimples, and two labrets (spider bites).

Tattoo(s): None.

Physical: None.

Mental: Severe clinical anxiety.

Family:

Parent(s): Ruth Rose Greyson and Monica Greyson.

Sibling(s): Janus Rain Greyson.

Pet(s): Charlotte (tarantula) and Phantom (black cat).

Occupation(s): None.

Skill(s): Baking and poetry.

Goal(s): None.

#it speaks #taco bell au

135 notes · View notes

atypicalacademic · 4 years

Text

Enchantment

(A/N: As indicated, another long-conversation fic..I love Balam, and I hope you do, too! Balam’s genderfluid, so that’s why the pronouns will change over fics!)

Words: 3410

Relationships: Portia Devorak x Balam Maitreya, (Also Asra and Balam’s friendship play a role here so-)

Warnings: None, I think- a little bit of angst, I guess.

Balam and Portia talk about what they know of magic and trust, find common ground, and get inevitably sidetracked, multiple times.

Smoke rose in bright golden spirals over Mazelinka's stove, the tinted brew glittering in the ladle as Portia scooped it up to take a closer look.

Placing one hand on Portia's soft shoulder, Balam took a step closer to peer into it, sensing the steady magic of the ingredients and the richness of Mazelinka's steady, strong aura.

"See that? That's from a Hexamel." She gestured to the sparkling powder emitting tiny crackling sounds as the soup boiled over. "A cave dwelling creature that eats crystals."

"Ooh," Portia's eyes went wide, sky blue and glittering with curiosity. Balam cleared her throat, trying to wrangle her own voice back into its didactic confidence.

Squinting at the ladle, Portia scooped up a tender pink berry, cooked through enough that it did not squish in her grip. “And these?” She sidled a little closer, her thick red curls nearly catching on Balam’s beaded magenta bracelet. Gently, unconsciously, Balam’s palm brushed the nape of her neck as she swept her hair out of the way.

The berry slipped from Portia’s grip, and landed back in the soup. “Whoops!”

“Oh-“ Balam drew her hand back, flushing. “That’s uh-“ She blinked away the steam rising to her eyes. “Prancing thimbleberry.” She frowned, reciting what Asra had taught her on long, warm afternoons in the woods, quizzing her at odd intervals and smiling mischievously whenever she was caught off guard. “It soothes the nerves, eases anxiety, and grants good sleep.”

Balam watched Portia pick it back up to examine it. “Not to be confused with pickled tingleberry. That one induces dreams.” She smiled at the memory. “Asra once brought a load of those from his travels. It was a lot of fun.”

“That’s..wow..” Portia gave the pot another stir, watching the sparkling bubbles with fascination. The soup’s heavenly scent suffused the bright, tidy kitchen. In the hot steam, her face was bright, pink sheen staining her ginger freckles.

Watching sparkling bubbles form and pop in the pot, Portia frowned. “So if all of this is magic,” she said slowly, looking up over her shoulder to meet Balam’s eyes, “this soup must be some sort of magic too, right?”

Taking note of the easily discernible ingredients, Balam nodded. “It is, definitely. A soup like this keeps the drinker satiated, lifts their mood, eases stress..” She ticked off the properties one by one. “It’s potent magic,” Tossing one end of her brocaded white shawl over her shoulder, she made her way out from behind Portia to perch up on the kitchen counter, beside the stove. “If anything’s good enough to get the Procurator talking,” she raised a dark eyebrow, pointedly, “you’ve brought us to the right place.”

“I knew it.” Stepping away from the pot, and placing her hands on her hips, Portia beamed triumphantly. “To the right person.” She corrected, and then, dropping her hands with a wink, she added, “With the right person, too.”

“With the- me?” Balam laughed, startled but pleased. Self consciously, she drew out her fern-shaped hair pin, shaking away the frizzy black curls that came tumbling into her eyes. Watching her movements as Balam pushed the pin, and her hair back in a half hearted attempt at keeping the wilder locks out the way, Portia nodded eagerly. “Yes, you.”

She stepped aside from the stove to get closer to Balam, her face shining with interest. “I mean, look at you, you really know your stuff.” She said. “I bet I could ask you just about anything from over here, and you’d know it.” Leaning against the counter, hand on her cheek, she looked around. “Like- like that!”

Balam looked at the clumps of white bulbs strung up on the low ceiling, and then back at Portia, blinking slowly. “Portia,” she tried. “That’s garlic.”

Undeterred, Portia rolled her eyes playfully. “Well, yeah, I know that, but what does it do?”

“Uh-“ Balam scratched the back of her neck, feeling rather helpless. “I don’t think it has any magical properties. Well-“ she shrugged. “At least, not in my hands, for sure.” Curling her lip in distaste, she rolled her eyes. “I can’t cook to save my life.”

Caught off guard, Portia laughed, the sunny sound of it ringing through the small hut. “More my wheelhouse than yours, I guess, huh?” She teased. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“You could,” Balam replied, smirking. “Asra’s tried and given up. About the only thing he couldn’t teach me.”

“Asra’s your Master, isn’t he?” Portia tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’ve heard tell of him around the market. He must be really powerful.”

Balam unwound her shawl from around her shoulders, unclasping the lion’s head brooch and laying the fabric on her lap, fanning herself with one end in sweeping strokes. Straightening out the bright red silk of her nicest blouse, she smiled fondly. “Oh, he is. He introduced me to nearly every kind of magic there seemed to be.“ She recalled some of her earliest memories, of Asra and her amid a sea of books and scrolls, of his confident, patient voice, guiding her through the principles of alchemy, of conjuration, of-

“There are different kinds?” Portia’s voice cut in through her reverie. Balam nodded. “Oh, so much more than one magician could learn. Most of us present an affinity to one, or a few. This, for instance-“ She gestured to the soup bubbling peacefully on Mazelinka’s stove- “Green Magic.”

“Green?” Portia asked. “So, plants?”

“Plants, kitchen magic, poultices-“ Balam gave the soup an absent stir. “The kind of magic you use to care- for your family, for your community. It’s noble work.” She admired the brew for a moment before turning back to Portia. “And it should be, for any self-respecting practitioner.”

Portia looked around the tiny kitchen with renewed wonder in her eyes, as though seeing the drying herbs, the potted plants lining the wide windowsill, the pots and pans laid out neatly over rickety wooden shelves, all for the first time.

Balam felt a flicker of pride in her chest, her heart swooping in some tender, delighted way. Then, suddenly, Portia frowned, the corners of her lips turning down.

“Mazelinka’s always made this soup when we were over. She’s not once told me that any of this stuff was magic, you know.” There was an undercurrent of barely concealed hurt in her tone, one that Balam thought she’d picked up on so quickly only because of its sheer familiarity.

You won’t tell me where you’re going, will you?

Balam-

Or when you’re coming back.

She reached out to Portia, about to take her hand when the discomfort fell away from her face, brightening into a rather deliberate smile. “Guess I wouldn’t have let her be, y’know. If she’d told me.” She shrugged. “And it’s not like I ever asked.”

Balam watched her carefully, torn between gauging if she was still upset, and admiring the soft contours of her body as she moved, the pretty freckles dotting her cheeks and shoulders- Catching herself, she shook her head to clear it. “You could still ask her.” She suggested, hesitantly. “You’d know her better than I do, of course, but she seems pretty forthright to me.”

Portia’s expression cleared, and she let out a breath, wiping sweat off her brow. “You could say that again.” Her smiled widened into something more genuine. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Portia nodded, ginger curls flouncing with the movement. “You said that all magicians have a kind that they’re good at. What’s yours?” Bouncing on her heels, Portia took a step back, as though waiting for Balam to demonstrate something spectacular.

Balam reached into the pocket sewn into her creamy white wrap-around, and retrieved her deck of cards, holding it out for Portia to take a look. “Divination.”

Portia ran a finger over the deck, mouthing the word after her. Then, she looked up, astonished. “Ooh, you can tell the future?”

“Well-“ Balam pocketed the deck again, making a face. “In principle, though it’s not as simple as that. The future’s a nebulous thing, changing, adapting..” She trailed away, pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts. “We can scry or read or consult the decks as much as we want, but we’ll only ever be offered a template, an outcome, guidance, even, if we’re lucky- for what the future as it stands in that very moment.”

Portia was only half-listening to her explanation, suddenly distracted by Balam’s gleaming, dark brown skin, the way she played with her hands as she spoke, wooden bangles shifting as she did, by the clever spark in her wide, black eyes. Coal-black hair sprung back stubbornly from where it was wrangled with her hairpin, haloing around her face like a short, curly mane.

Her voice carried, as it always did, over the soup’s bubbling and the vague South-End noises of the street beyond, tinged by an accent more fluid than Vesuvian and smooth, impassioned. With a finger, short nails painted burgundy, she wiped a smear of lipstick from the corner of her mouth.

Her skin prickled, annoyingly, and, suddenly at a loss for what the hell to do with her hands, Portia undid her hair tie, bushy red curls falling down her back as she gathered it back up, twisting it the wrong way, letting it fall again, and then the right way.

Totally normal.

Nothing to see, here.

“…what we get, in the end, are impressions that we apply to our lives as best as we can. Not to mention, the Arcana don’t function on our human terms, and-“ Balam cut herself short. “Are you okay?”

“Um-“ Portia hastily tightened her hair tie, ducking her head on the pretext of adjusting her tunic. “Uh-huh”, she tried. “I’m- fascinating. Wait!” Her eyes widened, and she smacked herself internally for the mix-up. “I mean, you’re fascinating.” She regained her composure, and offered Balam a winsome smile.

“Oh-“ Balam touched her fingers to her lips, basking in the praise. “I’m flattered. But don’t bother correcting yourself.” She crossed her legs, leaning back on her hands, black eyes searching Portia’s face, sweeping over her with shameless interest. “You are fascinating.”

“Hmm..” Portia tapped her cheek playfully. “Guess it takes one to know one.” She closed the distance between them, lingering in front of Balam for a moment before she climbed on the counter beside her. “Tell me more.” She demanded. “What’s it like, learning magic? Is it really hard?”

“Well, as hard as learning anything is from scratch, I guess.” Balam replied, sidling a little closer so that their shoulders brushed. “Honestly, still easier than learning to cook.” She snorted.

Portia giggled, swatting her lightly on the shoulder.

“Do you want to know what’s the hardest part?” Balam asked, giving her a meaningful look.

Clasping her hands in her lap, Portia straightened. “Tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, Balam held up her hands, palms up, and hooded her eyes in a show of serenity. Summoning the airiest, vaguest impression of Asra that she could muster, she said, “To clear the mind.”

Portia burst out laughing, bumping against Balam’s shoulder, her cheek inches from Balam’s face. “Well, magician or not, I feel you on that one.” She assured her. “I’d die if someone asked me to just- stop thinking.”

A wave of fondness turning her cheeks and palms warm, Balam threw an arm around Portia’s shoulders. Reciprocating the gesture by wrapping a strong arm around Balam’s waist, she grinned. “And what’s the best part? I bet you go out on a lot of magical adventures. I’ve heard that Asra-“

Balam’s smile faded. “He doesn’t take me along.”

“Oh.” Portia caught herself, and fell silent. She didn’t want to push, and the downward slant of Balam’s shoulders, and her crestfallen gaze, told her nearly everything that she needed to know.

He doesn’t take me along.

There wasn’t a lot that she didn't know about that particular, stinging sentiment.

She laid her hand over Balam’s on her lap, and waited.

Balam shook her head, the tension in her shoulders easing as she wilted. “Guess I don’t blame him.” She said, finally. “I don’t grudge him the break. I’m told I’m not the easiest to live with.”

Okay, no.

Portia jumped down from the counter, walking over to put both her hands firmly on Balam’s shoulders. The rest of Balam’s words died in her throat, caught unawares by the hard, stubborn intensity in Portia’s sky-blue eyes. “Balam.” Her jaw was set, her face pinched in a mixture of shock and indignant anger. “Who told you that?”

“Um-“ Balam swallowed hard, and looked away.

Who told you that?

Once again, Balam carded even further back through her memories, taking care not to knock against the painful darkness that lay beyond what she could recall.

The first one- Asra’s warm hands, tearful lavender eyes, his voice, kind and desperate, gathering her up just as gently as his arms did. “It’s me, Balam. It’s me.”

And the rest- of Asra blowing bubbles on the shop’s roof, of him steadying her as she stumbled through the market, her feet unused to cobblestones, of the late afternoon sunshine streaming in through the shop’s windows, of Faust’s cool weight coiled around her stomach, of Asra pouring her steaming chai in the morning, smooth rum at night.

Who did tell her that?

As far back as she could remember, it had been there, she realized, as if it had belonged somewhere within her bones, in the pit of her stomach, an aching emptiness in the middle of her chest, as though it were a voice in itself, disembodied, speaking in a language that sounded as ephemeral as the whispers of her cards.

I’m difficult.

And then, another memory.

A young girl, hopping into the shop, with warm brown skin and jet black hair. Balam had seen her before, the Bartender’s daughter. As she’d handed over her purchase from across the counter, she’d felt a phantom grip seize her heart until she felt it shatter, a clawing, gnawing void rip her apart, out of nowhere, and she’d barely held herself together until she’d burst into tears as soon as the girl had left.

Wiping tearstained cheeks on Asra’s beaded, tasseled scarf, she’d clung to him, confused. “I felt like I’ve lost someone.” She’d told him. “Like there was someone I was missing so much I could die.”

She’d felt Asra freeze, his arms around her tense, his heart stutter against her chest. “Asra?”

His eyes had been shards of shattered amethysts. His voice had trembled the rest of the day, his smile odd and shaky on his face.

And the next morning, he’d been gone.

I’m difficult.

A single tear clung to Balam’s long lashes, and she wiped it away before it could fall.

Her dark eyes were elsewhere, their sharpness having faded into something lost and tired. She looked forlorn, fragile without the confident set of her shoulders and her voice stripped of its usual certainty. Portia’s heart clenched, painfully.

This won’t do.

After a long, long pause, Balam spoke. “I..don’t know.”

Portia did not reply, only squeezed her hand once.

“I just- feel like I’ve always known it, from somewhere.” Balam sighed, shaking herself and straightening. “Maybe noone did or maybe-“ she squeezed Portia’s hand back, offering a shaky smile “maybe it’s from the time that I don’t remember, you know?”

Letting out a breath, Portia returned her smile, hard and determined, her eyes flashing with promise. “Lemme know if you do, and there’s someone who’s told you that.” She narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists against Balam’s palms. “I’ll give ‘em a piece of my mind.” She took another deep breath. “Because they’re wrong.” She insisted. “You’ve got to know that they are.”

Instead of replying, Balam brought Portia’s hands to her lips, pressing two insistent kisses against the back of her freckled palms, black eyes brilliant and piercing.

Portia felt goosebumps break out all the way to her neck, her hair standing on end, her stomach flip-flopping in heady anticipation.

“Thank you.” Balam said, her voice thick. Then, to Portia’s disappointment, she dropped her hands, and leaned back against the windowsill. “I might be being silly, you know, but-“

“No, you’re not.” Portia assured her, her conviction propelling her before the words were even out of Balam’s mouth. “Even if Asra has his reasons,” she said, tightening the bunch of keys strung around her waist before meeting Balam’s eyes again. “It feels like shit to be left behind like that.”

Balam sighed, softening. “Portia-“

“Though half the time, the reasons are stupid. Like Pasha, I need to keep you safe-” Portia went on, rolling her eyes in fond, familiar exasperation. “And half the time, it only gets him into more trouble, and then he writes stupid letters saying he’s sorry for being sorry, and- ack.” She shook her head, grimacing. “Even if Asra’s not as hopeless as my brother, you’re not being silly by wanting to call him out on it. And you should, really.” She advised. “Just as you told me to.”

“You’re right.” Balam conceded, after a long moment. “You’re right. I guess I should.” The momentary weight in her heart lifted as though it was never there, the shadows clearing from her face.

“Point is-“ Portia brightened, beaming. “I’m sure you’re a lot of fun to live with.” She winked. “You’re a clever, cute magician who can kick ass, read fortunes, shoot fireballs, maybe-“

“Fireballs?” As Portia’s voice washed over her, Balam felt like she could, perhaps, summon a fireball the size of a planet. But she erred on the side of reason, affecting incredulity.

“Can you?” Portia asked, breathlessly.

“Well, maybe not a fireball,” Balam admitted, looking nervously around at Mazelinka’s kitchen. “At least not here, but- hm,” she bit her lip thoughtfully. “I can summon a smaller flame, if you want.”

Portia gasped. “Show me.” She demanded.

Balam could hear Asra fondly teasing her for her showmanship, as she drew her palms together, letting her eyes focus on the space between them, recalling heat and warmth and the light in Portia’s smile.

A small, steady flame, first flickered, then shivered, and then blazed to life in her hands.

“Oh, Balam-“ Portia’s voice was hushed with wonder.

The fire danced in her eyes, brightening her red freckles, her parted lips, the single drop of sweat forming in the crest of her upper lip, the ginger curls sticking to her face.

Portia was brighter than the tiny flame cupped in Balam’s palms, brighter even than the fierce mid-noon sun.

Balam realized, without fanfare, and without a shadow of doubt, how utterly smitten she was.

She closed her palms, putting out the fire.

Portia’s smile seared through her. Firm hands skated up Balam’s arms, calloused fingers tracing over the jewel tones of the king cobra tattooed on to her forearm. “I can live with that,” she whispered, and Balam swallowed, dropping her hands to Portia’s waist.

Auburn lashes fluttered, and they were close enough now that Balam could feel the catch in Portia’s breath. “I could get used to that.”

Balam shivered, drawing her closer. “I’m glad.” She murmured, cupping Portia’s cheek in one hand, thumbing over her freckles. “Because I-“ she tightened the arm around Portia’s waist, “-could get used to this.”

The scent of Balam's perfume wrapped around her like a sandalwood cloud, sharpened with a hint of spice, and Portia pick out the fuchsia flush rising beneath her dark brown skin. “I-“

With a rude splash, the soup bubbled over alarmingly.

Blushing furiously, they broke apart, Balam clearing her throat and Portia patting nervously at her face. “Soup.” She said simply, stirring it frantically.

“Soup.” Balam agreed, her eyes still finding Portia’s over the pot, one hand still laced with one of Portia’s.

Loudly, from behind them, Mazelinka cleared her throat.

“Um-“

“It’s done, Pasha. No need to keep stirring it like that.” She said briskly, striding over. Portia dropped the ladle with a clang. Mazelinka stared at her, and then her eyes landed on their intertwined hands.

She raised a steel grey eyebrow. “Wasn’t interrupting, was I?”

“Mazelinka!”

Bravado forgotten, Balam squirmed and sputtered something unintelligible as Mazelinka poured out the soup into a large wooden bowl.

“Get going.” She ordered, thrusting the warm bowl into Portia’s hands. Her keen, weathered eyes met Balam's with barely concealed amusement. “Got to pick up where you’ve left off, don’t you?”

15 notes · View notes

gone-dw-abt-it · 5 years

Photo

Hi yes, these are my skelebros and they’re related to several Scotts and therefore act like Scotts. Even though I’m not a Scott I love them and their freckles.

First, these two are very much genderfluid, these two will switch pronouns as Papyrus normally goes by male or nonbinary while Sans can be female, nonbinary, or male. Normally going by male and nonbinary in his skele-form and nonbinary and/or female in his human form(really him just being too tired of correcting people while out in more “civilized” places.)

Alright, so the topic at hand “Why are they more human in form?”

It’s caused by a malfunction in genetics that started when the skeletons started gaining space/time powers, let’s just say a certain beast who lives there doesn’t appreciate anyone but the flower maiden. That includes her skele-dad who is a monster(later ground type). In other words, their “echoflesh” albeit excess magic, is becoming solid bone as a result of their traits. That and the fact that several magical tattoos on them allow them to channel a type of magic to have a human appearance... well as human as pastel pink hair, teal eyes, cyan hair, and magenta eyes can be.

Now for the fact of those markings and wings.

These guys have two layers of magical tattoos, first being their fleshy human forms, second being their bones. The flowers are their nicknames given by their cousin (more on her later), floral names in the village is a specialty of those close or deemed authority. Due to this many either are called by their names or traits.

Papyrus is called Sunflower(Raven/Hawk/any bird of prey), not only for his dedication but the fact he’s more pure and nicer than everyone else including all the other Vikings/clansmen of their lil’ clearing that’s isolated from everyone. He’s also named that because there is more blooms than what most know, many layers and things at work, he might hate his sibling for having bagpipes in his tattoo storage that allows him to whip them out at any point and play something like megalovania or running in the 90′s on them. Those wings are also a magic tattoo- something to allow free transportation while also being very minimal compared to a boat. He has a few tattoos he hides, they hold his weapons, a bow and a clutch of arrows. Another thing to note is the colors of the magic tattoos/markings, different colors are beginners while others are expertly handled, a diagram will be made of this later.

There are also several factors you might not see, Iris’ tattoos are more provocative, that mark along his nasal to his browbones is meant to boost his defense so he can take more hits, those fangs?- if he moves it right he has sharp k9′s that he uses to show he’s a threat without magic or physical weapons, that and he likes hunting with his fur babs. Iris also has a tail that has a blade tip, again- it’s normally used as a sign of “don’t mess with me or you’ll regret it” with lil’ circlets of sorts that make an odd sound as a warning.

They have a more stocky human from because of “beast/void dad”. They live in this older looking “village” close to the middle of a forest in which is “haunted”- You’ll be lucky if you get caught by Hawk as Cougar’s first response is to threaten the second you take a step deeper into the trees. They take their job as making sure all these “mutant” monsters and all the souls in the flowers are safe very seriously, even more so knowing that they have been used to kidnap their cousin repeatedly.

Hopefully, this was enjoyable for those who wanted to read about my (slight?) au involving the skele-bros and their cousin- you can see the 6th generation ginger and their older cousin here and tell me if you’re interested in seeing more of these bois! (soon you’ll see them being human n’ how between the genders they look)

#No clue their au name #mostly because they have their nich and don't need to chat with any of the other non-scottish monsters #Plus they know more nonsense than the other skelebros #undertale aus #skelebros #sans #papyrus #Sunflower #Iris #oc ish?#Scottish Skellies

2 notes · View notes

dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt · 6 years

Note

So, I see you write in tags about your OCs. Could you tell us more about them?

YES!!!!!! OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR ASKING I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER AND EVER AND-

I’m going to answer for my “main seven”/my favourites atm, AND for Var, Jose, Eva, and Claudia (these 4 are from a different original universe of mine than the “main seven”) bc I’ve been thinking about them a lot, BUT I have 25 OCs in total… it’s just overwhelming to answer for all of them at once. I hope this is okay!! A main masterpost for all my OCs is coming soon in the new year if Tumblr survives that long!!

Joseph is a 25 year old man. He’s got blondish brown hair and blue eyes. He has anger management issues that are a sure fire way to get him into trouble. He is all too loyal and protective of the people he loves and can love very deeply, which can also get him into trouble. He’s reckless, impulsive, but his heart is always in the right place where his loved ones are concerned. He has a daughter, Claudia, by his late wife who he loves more than anything in the whole world. He was raising her alongside his best friend, Var, before the apocalypse hit. He later becomes a part of a poly relationship with Var and Eva.

Varisse is also 25 year old. He’s got close-cropped black hair (and a few grey hairs to show the years he’s spent putting up with Jose’s shit), dark brown eyes and dark skin. He is patient, intelligent, and caring, the ying to Joseph’s yang. He tries to try to see both sides of an issue, almost too much so. He worked as a DJ before the apocalypse and he has a lifelong passion for music… though he can’t sing a straight note to save his life, he’d be the first to tell you that, with a rueful smile. He’s known and been in love with Joseph since kindergarten, and was happy to raise Claudie alongside his best friend.

Eva is a 26 years old woman. She has fair hair, green eyes, and pale skin that burns very easily. She tries her best to be brave and level-headed but is far out of her depth, since she’s used to being a teacher and dealing with a bunch of 6 year olds, not hordes of ravening undead. She can still show spine when pushed to it, though, and is capable of ripping apart arguments and ego with no effort at all. She was Claudia’s teacher before and after the apocalypse and over that time developed a crush on both Varisse and Joseph. After they meet up again amid zombie-filled hardship, that crush developed even more and was quickly requited. She’s out of depth as Claudia’s mother but is learning more each day, and is always a pillar of faith for her boys.

Claudia is Joseph’s 6 year old daughter. She may have her father’s sandy-brown hair but otherwise she’s a spitting image of her mother, with her olive skin and hazel eyes (she’s cranky she didn’t get her dad’s eyes). She’s made up of pure precocious intelligence and sass. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, least of all her dad; Varisse is the only person that can order her around and she’ll listen to no matter what. She has no problem with doing what she’s told… so long as that person asks her respectfully, she thinks it’s a good/fun idea, and they don’t try to boss her around. She has her Dad’s recklessness and will and her mom’s wit and cute face, not a great combination if you’re an authority figure, she’s a master manipulator. She’s very proud of her dads and mom and will loudly support them.

June is a demon. They’re agender, have black hair cut down to their chin, olive skin, black eyes, and an oval-shaped face with a sharper jawline. They’re covered in tiny crucifix-shaped scars all over, one in particular above their left eyebrow. They’re tiny (4′9) but armed with a mouth full of razor-sharp shark teeth, hands tipped in claw-like nails, and a ready willingness to use them. They dislike the features of the modern world and are generally a Grinch about everything. They only like about 2 people in the whole world. They believe complaining to be an art form and practice it - regularly. In a nutshell they’re a bitter, cynical, PTSD-filled, cantankerous ball of apathy and hate. They’re the leader of Hell’s pack of hellhounds. They were in a very abusive relationship with Mars but after a particularly horrific event, they left with Dante’s help. They keep a lessor hellhound with them at all times as a companion; on earth, it takes the shape of a small black pug named Taco. They somehow mix not caring about anything and being very Extra. They sleep in expensive silk pajamas. They’re fond of red wine. They also love fast food - they particularly enjoy it when it runs. :) yes June’s my favourite how can you tell

August is a drama queen angel. They’re genderfluid (they go mostly by gendered pronouns but since their gender isn’t clear or pointed out in most posts I make on Tumblr, I use ‘they/them’ as a catch-all kind of thing.) They’re Asian in appearance but since angels are not natural humans, they have silvery-blonde hair down to their shoulder-blades and their eyes are a bright crystal blue (they hate looking so unusual though so most of the time they use dark contacts and hair dye to blend in with the humans.) They’re tall at 5′11 and they love elegant dresses. They excel at dancing (they’ve mastered all kinds but their favourite is ballet) and swordsmanship. They have AD(H)D but rather than sort it out like a normal person, they deny it and disguise it as them just not caring. They also have anxiety and struggle with overthinking. They’re somewhat (understatement) of an alcoholic due to the constant deaths of their mortal lovers from old age, while they themself remain unchanged. They’re aloof and think of themself as superior, though they’re easily flustered if you try and can actually be quite clingy. They’re very emotional despite their shows of coldness in public.

Myriad is a demon. They’re also genderfluid and they’re indifferent to pronouns. They’re very tall at 6′5, they have very dark skin, and wear their black hair in dreadlocks down to their shoulders. Their eyes change colours like a kaleidoscope, shifting eerily between shades of yellow, grey, blue, and green depending on the lighting and their mood. How they treat you depends entirely on how you treat them and others: if you’re kind, they’ll be fine with you, but if you’re a bad person… well, they are the demon of punishment after all. They do have a soft spot for the small, the sweet, and the helpless and can be quite protective, but mostly they’re entirely self-centred and act on their own whims. They’re quite sexually prolific. They enjoy pranks with malicious glee. They’re very physically intimidating. They have 2 sets of fangs, both potent, one full of a paralytic venom and the other an excruciatingly painful and lethal venom. They also have a harmless pet ball python named Albert and their favourite item of clothing is a soft knitted sweater with kittens on it. :D

Ben is a fallen angel/demon. He identifies as male. He’s medium to smallish height at 5′8. His facial features are quite plain, with a slightly crooked nose and a squarer chin. His eyes are calf-brown and his hair, the most noticeable thing about him, is wavy/loosely curly down past his ears and a bright, dark, unnatural red colour (though it is quite natural for him.) He fell in love with a demon and fell from heaven for her, but it turned out that she was tricking him and left him soon after. His angel grace is out-of-control since he is now technically a demon, and randomly bursts out of him every few months, obliterating everything around him with black fire. Despite how volatile he is, he’s a very quiet person who keeps to himself. He has trust issues and is wary of people, and can be quite timid and easily embarrassed. He works on earth as a primary school teacher, since he loves kids and the demons in hell scorn him and he can’t return to heaven. His fashion sense is absolutely abyssal and he dresses like he’s a 90 year old (technically he’s older even than that but, come on, man, get with the times!) He is very, very depressed.

Ginger is a demon. She identifies as a girl and, unlike the others, who are all pansexual, she is mostly only attracted to girls. She is chubby and has carrot-orange hair (thus, the nickname-that-stuck-and-became-her-name-while-on-earth) and pale turquoise eyes. She doesn’t have a filter and loves very loudly, openly, and strongly. She has a big heart but that can be hard to see since she mostly only thinks of/about herself. She has a great need for speed and her version of heaven is being behind the wheel of a fast car. She has a hard time settling down and is constantly itching for her next adventure and/or challenge. She thinks of Ben as a big brother and constantly annoys him like a little sister; she’s the only demon who accepts him as one of them. For somebody who is so loud, she has a hard time really and truly expressing her feelings when she cares deeply about someone. If she has a crush, she is the stereotypical ‘teenager in love’, stuttering and blushing bright red. She swears a lot, is pretty brash, and - you guessed it - has a strong Australian accent.

Mars is a stink man, evil horrible person, most hated OC an angel. He identifies mostly as male with some exceptions. He has white skin, cherubic blond curls, bright golden eyes, a kind, handsome face, and a charming smile. He’s also an abusive piece of shit . He often dallies with the mortals, luring in lovers with charm and sweetness, and then abusing them in every way possible before eventually killing them. If somebody refuses him, he hunts them down, murders their loved ones in front of them, before raping them and murdering them, too. He’s very possessive and volatile and will throw very dangerous tantrums when denied what he wants. He’s spoiled rotten and has never had consequences for his actions. He wears a ring adorned with a crucifix. He’s got an excellent sense of fashion and is very rich. He’s owned a great number of mansions throughout the years and still does, though he currently lives in a very expensive penthouse.

Dante is a demon - a hellhound, to be exact. He identifies as male, and is the only of the seven to have been born a human before being inducted to hell. He’s not very tall but is bulky due to pure muscle, Vietnamese in appearance, with brown skin and a large scar across his collar bone and shoulder like he’d been savaged by a massive dog at some point (spoiler alert: that’s exactly what happened.) His black hair is cut short military-style. He’s second in command of the pack of hellhounds, under only June, who he sort of took under his wing after they left Mars, built them back up from the years of servitude and abuse. He cares about them more than anyone… That being said, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t call them out if he thinks they’re making a dumb decision. They banter like siblings and he finds great delight in taking his life in his hands and messing up their hair. He’s fiercely loyal but strong willed and will only take orders that he thinks are good ones. A solider born and raised, from human life to demon existence. He loves adrenaline rushes and thinks all fun has to involve danger of some kind. He’s absolutely deadly in a fight, whether it be in his ‘normal’ form with its proficiency with all kinds of weaponry, or his hound form - a mountain of sheer muscle and terrifyingly large jaws. He shows affection in rough ways, such as headlocks and friendly punches, but make no mistake, he really cares. also his ears stick out a bit and he sleeps with his mouth open and hes actually kind of adorable

If you made it this far… thank you so much. Getting questions/messages about my babies honestly keeps me going, so… thank you!!!

5 notes · View notes

withwitandhope · 7 years

Text

15 headcanons

Tagged by: @simplicity-of-control (forever ago, but the app ate my original reply)

Repost don’t reblog. Tag 15 people

Tag: @icanfeelyouchangingshape (for whichever muses you want), @americanparamedic, @followthedrums13, @flxbber, @misstheroses, @compassionate-captain, @enduringcaptain, @i-stand-with-the-doctor, @aurora-gallifreytimelady, @cxnstantcompaniion, @defenderrosetyler, @cptharkness, @intelligentxhalfwit, @brillicnt

Eight is genderfluid. They will typically use they/them pronouns, but don’t often correct people using he/him pronouns. On very rare occasions they will use she/her. They may also dress differently depending upon how they feel that day.

They suffer from depression. While they do have a bouncy, excitable personality, they often get stuck in their own head, over analyzing their own actions and the reactions of those around them. This can be a problem day to day, but it’s especially notable in the wake of any sort of major problem and can drive them to suicidal thoughts and actions.

They don’t do well when left alone. Unlike Ten, who became a bit of a megalomaniac when left to his own devices, Eight tends to go the opposite direction. Loneliness will drive them to self-isolation and it gets to be a bit of a downhill spiral.

Physical contact is very important for them. Contrary to the norm for most Time Lords, Eight is very cuddly. They thrive on contact and will tend to seek that out if they feel whoever they are with may be receptive to it. Anything from quick hugs to curling up together somewhere and just staying there for hours.

Along the same lines, they do have abandonment issues. Probably this stems from the loss of all of their companions over their lives. They fear being left alone. Their companions tend to either leave them, or they get them killed somehow. (And they do always blame themself when a companion dies.) This can make them reluctant to form close bonds with people, which is something they need in order to be happy.

Their favorite room in the TARDIS is the butterfly garden. They love seeing all the colors and all the delicate little creatures. It’s a good reminder of how vibrant and beautiful life can be.

They’re practically allergic to cleaning and they almost never get rid of anything. Charley has called them a hoarder on more than one occasion and she isn’t really wrong. They also have a tendency to leave books and half finished projects everywhere. The clutter doesn’t really bother them.

Yes, they really are that oblivious. Eight is ace as can be and does not tend to notice their effect on other people. Even when it’s pointed out, they have a hard time understanding it. They are, however, sex-neutral. It’s a little different to them than other forms of physical contact, largely in that as a Time Lord they’ve been conditioned against it. Additionally, they don’t tend to experience arousal, so that’s a bit strange to them. If they don’t fight it, they will react physically to being touched, but because of the unfamiliarity and the conditioning, it can be an unnerving and uncomfortable experience. It’s mostly down to how their partner mitigates that.

Despite being ace, they are panromantic, although they are also demiromantic. But it’s kind of funny, just how terrible they are at picking up on flirting. As mentioned in the previous point, yes, they really are that oblivious.

They are altruistic unto the point of being self-destructive. They tend to out everyone else’s needs ahead of their own. If something is bothering one of their companions, they’ll do everything in their power to fix it. But if they’re having an issue - like if they’re having trouble managing their depression symptoms - they’ll keep quiet about it and not ask for help because they don’t want to be a burden to those around them. This can be problematic, especially when they reach a point where things are driving them to intentionally put themself in danger.

On that note, though, they have the worst poker face. They are the worst liar ever. The worst. They are terrible at it.

They love animals. In fact, they have pets. Sort of. It would be more accurate to say they keep a menagerie. The butterfly room could be considered a part of this. Since the TARDIS is infinite, it allows space to house each animal or group of animals with plenty of room and can simulate their natural environments.

They can knit. They actually find that to be fun and relaxing. Most of their hobbies include making things with their hands. This one, though, is the source of a certain past regeneration’s frankly ridiculous scarf.

They adore music. In fact, they play a frankly ridiculous number of instruments, including violin. Hitchimus has been one of their favorite planets to visit thus far because of their love of music and musicians.

Food is one part of traveling that really excites them. They love trying local foods, although as a general rule they typically don’t eat meat or anything with ginger in it.

#about eight #tag games #((I tried to pick mostly mutuals whose muses I know little to nothing about beyond their about pages to tag.))#((I also see I did not proofread this before posting it...)

5 notes · View notes