#XUNREINX. Independent multimuse primarily offering muses from DC and Marvel Comics. Novella, multi-para, short replies. Canon with various fandoms, media runs and HEAVY HC influenced. Mutuals only!!! Triggering themes and mature content, follow at your own risk. MINORS DO NOT!
I HAVE BLED FOR DUTY, AND I WOULD BLEED FOR IT STILL
STUDY OF … envy, control, compassion, growth, pride, finding comfort in ones sins, legacy, unbearable rage, loyalty, recovery, narcissism, madness, curses, the balance of duality, devotion and yearning on the soul, and finding beauty in impurity.
@songsofdivinity sent a raven:
“Promise me one thing—don’t pretend this was nothing.” (Calypso for Odysseus)
He still couldn't believe he was going home, a twist low in his gut, an ache in his chest as he looked down to the hand on his arm. This had been meant to be his Meadow of Asphodel, a field of beauty that held it's own charms true. But not the ending one would hope for, unable to decide if he should smile or cry.
Home. Ithaca. The hills, the palace, the goats, faithful friends and family.
Which he'd made for himself here, on the isle, with a goddess that gave so much without asking for anything else in return but that he love her. And he had. Did? Gods, this was cruel for no purpose. He'd let the dream die, a sacrifice tossed into the growing pyre that was the love he'd carefully tended and stoked for Calypso. And now he was to leave, there was no option to stay. For all her craft, and his promises, he'd been unable to truly relinquish the hope that he'd one day make it home to see father, home, her…
"I could never.'
That at least was true, lifting her hand to kiss pinkie knuckle, passing across the other three and turning her hand to kiss the palm. The same soft, gentle hand that had wiped the cold sweat from his forehead when he'd woke throat hoarse from shouting. The names of his men, the kings that he'd stood beside in Troy, the gods who'd turned on him and left him here like so much flotsam. Like spoiled children discarding a toy they no longer cared to play with.
And was he not doing the very same? Heard Hermes talking with Calypso, as he was sure he was meant to, and moved as swiftly as the god himself to the beach without a thought. It had been immediate, the old drive roaring through him like a chimera, rattling frame and flesh into action. It was only at her gentle touch that he recalled her at all, and he was disgusted with himself. But that didn't stop his frantic work.
A part of his heart would be left here, the home that had always ever been a consolation.
full ( legal ) name : tabitha eloise aguillard
nicknames ; tea , tabi , tabby cat
date ( and place ) of birth : november 9th , parent's room , burgundy , france
current age ; forgotten
ethenicity : caucasian
bloodline ; human
gender identity : cis female
sexual orientation ; bisexual men leaning
family : biological mother is marguerite louise aguillard nee beaumont , biological father is toulouse henri aguillard
children ; tba
pets ; none
occupation : self employed ;; tea shoppe owner
location ; wherever a neutral meeting place is needed
appearance : physique ; stands at five foot six inches ( 5’6” / 167.7 cm ) tabitha's physique is curvaceous , a lush form wrapped in cozy attire . soft hands that smell lightly of cardamon and spice from the crafting of her own tea leaves.
hair and eyes ; tabithas's hair is a rich red . in her youth she preferred it braided , but as she matured enjoyed the feeling of loose locks . her eyes are a bright blue / green color with thick , short eyelashes .
other notable features ; none at this time .
face claim : bryce dallas howard
speaking : primary languages ; english , french , gaelic
languages known ; all , as the need arises
body modifications : tattoos && locations ; none at this time
piercings && locations ; ears ;; lobe , orbital , and helix on both sides , forward helix on left side only
injuries : location ; story∶ a puckered scar on her left shoulder from an arrow she took during a peace talk between werewolves and sorcerers in orleans .
relationships :
wyatt kain ; @rcliicta ; tabitha's primary ship . the two met in her shoppe and while she was originally oblivious of the vampire's intentions , that didn't last long . the two have been together for longer than tabitha can remember . the two live on wyatt's farm , where tabitha attempts to bring the vampire further into the present time despite not being from it herself .
synopsis : Tabitha Aguillard had been a sweet child born during a great turmoil that led to the overthrowing of a monarchy.
born in the middle of the french revolution , tabitha was surrounded by violnce and disquiet from the very start of her life . in spite of that , with heavy influence of her father , she learned how to keep a delicate peace much as he did with their staff . while her father was called in to council the lords and ladies who were attempting to navigate the turbulent waters , tabitha could be found in the kitchen adored by the staff as she attempted to assist them in their chores . her favourite place was in the herb room , with its hanging plants and multitude of scents , the mortal and pestle used to grind herbs heavy in her hands but smelt heavenly to her nose .
it was this preference that saved her life . when the villages lower class lashed out , invading the villa in order to murder the upper class and the servants who had not turned on them , tabitha was saved by a maid in the kitchen who'd taken her under her care . dressed in servant's clothes , the two escaped into the herb garden and to the woods that surrounded the property . while her father did survive physically , he was never mentally the same , turned bitter by the loss of his wife and the servants he'd considered family friends . they lived in a small cottage in the woods that surrounded another family's home for many years , tabitha cultivating her own herb garden to sell and make money to purchase food when her father's hunting failed .
after his death she lived alone , trading herbs and wine for more substantial sustenance with a nearby village before saving enough to purchase a small store from which to ply her trade . in 1809 her establishment was chosen , unbeknownst to her , as a neutral meeting place in order to negotiate a truce between a pack of werewolves , and the sorcerers responsible for the curse laid upon the bloodline . it started out civilly enough , but soon began to become heated with the threat of blood being spilled . interrupting was not necessarily the smartest of moves , but tabitha managed to encourage level heads and the two came to an agreement that neither truly cared for but that's the point of compromise .
the sorcerers decided her establishment was ideal , especially after her continued assistance in keeping peace in her place of business when they met there again . and again . over the course of five years they used her calm setting in order to discuss issues , and advised others of her talents mortal though she may be . until she wasn't , shot by a resentful third party to a renegotiation between the sorcerers and werewolves , and while the wound itself wasn't dangerous she was gifted magical protections by the eldest in the cabal working in tandem with the other supernatural creatures who had benefitted inside her establishment .
a slew of blessings were gifted to her , immortality to start . a long life that she is unaware of as her mind recreates memories in order to fit the times she lives in . as an example ; her family home and the loss of her mother is rewritten every few decades as she continues not to age . murdered by bloodthirsty villagers during the french revolution . slain by deserters during wwii . killed during by a mob during the civil rights movement while joining a peaceful protest . she is unaware that she is wandering through time , and as her memories are constantly changing she does on occasion come across as ditzy as her mind is preoccupied in doing so.
secondly , her shoppe is no longer stationary , the door can be opened in any place at times of need . not just peace talks or negotiations , but any supernatural creature seeking peace and quiet , a good cup or tea or glass of wine , and a small sweet or savory treat . she has the ability to cater to all appetites and takes pride in the fact that her coolers hold not only choice cuts for those who rely on meat but an assortment of blood types for those unable to consume flesh any longer . a room holds cages for insect life , poisonous creatures , rodentia . outside of human life itself she is capable of service .
thirdly , though not necessarily supernatural in nature per se , the community itself donates not only to her coffers but her inventory . portions of human soul captured in bottles , blood from immortals , herbs that are impossible to source due to the magical protection of the glades they grow . and while the occasional mortal follows on the heels of a supernatural creature entering , they are unbothered and guided subconsciously to sit away from the more dangerous patrons inside the establishment . it is rare that a normal human being can locate her establishment but it is most often due to some supernatural heritage , regardless of how far back , in their bloodline .
mornin / afternoon / evenin y'all. woke up with a migraine from hell but tabitha my lil neutral tea shoppe owner for the supernatural won the poll! so i'll be working on bios today starting with hers.
i want to get my oc bios done so y'all don't have to be like tibby i know you said random if i don't choose a muse but who the fk white baby is this???? got a credit score of 73o
that being said as i disappear into aesthetic hell i hope y'all are havin / had a great day! kiss kiss bish
@summerxmelodies sent a raven:
❛ why don’t you just kill me? ❜ (Niklaus Mikaelson)
"What fun would that be?'
A bloody finger skimmed her lower lip, a soft ahh sound coming from the hybrid's throat as his own mouth opened wider as if attempting to give medicine to a child. The wound would close soon, the blood trickling along the curve of his palm coming to a stop. And she was wasting time asking why he was curing her. Again. What was this, the fourth time? Honestly he'd forgotten the question he'd been asking her, the information he'd been seeking, distracted by her resilience.
He did so enjoy the breaking of things, and when they didn't fall apart immediately that was to be appreciated. In full. Until the inevitable loss of the plaything that so entertained him. Now, what was it he was meant to be asking ab- Ah, yes. Her pack. The local heathens were always looking for new blood, hoping to find the right bloodline that could finally dethrone him. Not possible, but the moxie was appreciated.
“Besides you haven't answered my question.' Honestly at least, she was hiding something, and until he'd managed to wring every drop of truth of her, she was going to be his guest. In the cavern. On the sarcophagus he'd repurposed. ”Now, let's try again, shall we? Where does your family come from?'
because i've mentioned many times his eyes are brown and that he has scars . the reference sheets from are under the cut but me fkin around are on display ta da!
gonna make this quick, i say knowing damned well y'all're bout to be on a roller coaster ride with no brakes but here we go!! under a readmore cuz it got long DD;
pertaining ;; scarecrow
J.Crane was born in Gotham, a cursed city that infects its inhabitants from the moment of conception to the moment of their death. But after the death of his father he moved to Georgia with his mother to live with his maternal grandmother. Mingling eldritch energies is iffy at the best of times, but in Jon's case the small cursed seed was fed by darker and older things. as he was bullied both in school, and in home, the dark seed from Gotham, its madness and violence was fed by the eldritch dark and dark intentions Jon could not act on being too small to be able to do so.
By the time he was in high school the voice in the back of his head was its own presence, a comfort while he applied first aid after a beating in school, or the incessant pecking of crows in the small chapel behind the Keeney house. while he sat up on his bed, scrawny arms wrapped around bent lanky legs glaring in the dark of his room. it wasn't until the third time being strung up as a scarecrow by the bullies who watched crows follow him from a distance, a happenstance from the nights spent draped in chemically, and bloodied, clothes in the chapel where he was meant to pray for his sins.
it wasn't until he moved back to gotham, after state hopping for while due to questions regarding his grandmother's death, that the madness fed on eldritch dark in the appalacians blossomed. It became something more back in its proper place. more than it had been meant to be if Jon had just stayed in Gotham. but here were all those pesky questions in regards to his father's murder that his mother just had not been able to handle.
the difference between jon and scarecrow ;; physical
it's easy to hear it in the voice, though the drawl is still there, the tone is still dry, there's an echo to the voice, a harsh resonance. think of a throat raw from screaming, the flesh clawed at, because when scarecrow talks it's forcing the throat to work where as Jon does so naturally, automatically. think independence day and brent spiner? but with claws xD
it's harder to see the difference unless you know what to look for. jon's eyes are light brown (yes i know cill.ian mur.phy's aren't we do what we can) and there are flecks of yellow from the fear toxin and small itty bitty tears of extreme pupil constriction / dilation from being his father's lab rat , the intense bullying , and years in the chapel caused by terror (i am aware this is not exactly how science works but it is how comic pseudo science works so i'm right) but the yellow in his eyes glow when scarecrow is front and center.
other noticeable tells is the slight tremor to his hands, and the arc of lightening across his fingernails, the veins standing in relief on his arms and the grit of his jaw. while Jon himself cannot feel fear, when scarecrow is possessing him his body is reacting as though he feels it. his pupils are also slowly but surely dilating and will eventually be fully blown leaving only a ring of bright honey brown. it's why the mask is necessary, as well as lenses to let him be able to see close up, they're tinted to limit the amount of light allowed in. the band of colour is from the fingers clenching into claws.
the longer this goes on the more things one will notice. jon tends to pull a superman, slouching, compressing his spine, as scarecrow keeps command jon will straight, stretching, until he goes from the normal 6'1 ish to 6'5" tall. his joints creak as the muscles stay tensed, but forced to move in a back and forth between fluid motion and sharp jerks as his body protests.
the difference between jon and scarecrow ;; emotional
scarecrow is NOT jon, that is very important to note. shipping with jon is not a guarantee that scarecrow will look kindly on your muse. much like gotham, a crazy possessive city, scarecrow considers jon its own. it doesn't enjoy physical affections, it doesn't crave connection, it has all it needs in Jon. whatever partner he has is an interloper, it doesn't want them around, it doesn't like the fact that someone else can make him happy, bring him peace.
it will however take great pleasure in tormenting whoever he's with when it's allowed out. touching familiar places in a similar way jon does to cause unease because it is very much not the same, there is a suppressed violence in the way it touches someone, because it would far prefer to watch the heart race face to face than the subtle signs after a while. it wants to open the rib cage and stroke the fluctuating meat but then jon would be ... displeased. which is unfortunate.
@songsofdivinity sent a raven:
“Stay a little longer? The night feels lighter with you in it.” (Ganymede for Hermes)
That was a terrible idea, though that didn't stop Hermes' fingers from tracing a vein along the inside of Ganymede's arm as he considered it. While Zeus wasn't loyal to his slew of lovers, he did expect them to be. Being his son wouldn't save him either, lifting the chalice that Ganymede had just refilled to his lips to take a long sip as he stalled. Surely he could outrun a thunderbolt, assuming it was natural and not cast from the Master Bolt crafted by cyclops.
….
Probably. He was just enough the god king's son that he believed it to be true, which would make it so. Tangling his fingers with Ganymede's he grinned as he pulled the man into the shadows, who would see them? Uncle Hades was in the Underworld, Hera's keen eye locked on her husband as he flirted with some nymph brought to serve. Another light tug as his back hit plaster with a soft thump, hydromel sloshing against his upper lip as the liquid in the chalice spilled upwards.
“Now look, I've gone and made a mess of myself.' A few droplets here or there, dripping from his jaw to his chest as he arched his back. ”Can't be seen like this, Gan… You should help clean me up.'
@summerxmelodies sent a raven:
❛ how long have i been asleep? ❜ (beloved Scarecrow <3)
"N͎o͎t͎ ͎l͎o͎n͎g͎ ͎e͎n͎o͎u͎g͎h͎.'
It wished that her sleep had been permanent, jaw shifting as teeth ground together. He'd thought she was dead, leaving the door opened a crack, just enough space for it to grip and force the door open in the back of his mind to get out. Grief, always useful, a tool keen edged and helpful. Quickly taken advantage of only to suffer a swell of disappointment when the meddlesome girl pulled through after all.
What did it take to rid them of this distraction? Fingers reached out to rest against the pulse that was unfortunately beating rather healthily. It could stop that, slowly encircling her neck though it didn't begin to squeeze. Too quickly and Jon would rouse himself, reassert himself, and it would be shoved to the back of his mind to sulk and grind its teeth impotently. What was the point of keeping her around? Physical pleasures were understandable, Jon required that enrichment on occasion, but that could be charmed with a bit of drawl and hint of teeth.
And still its fingers didn't tighten, simply held, body leaning closer into view as thumb pressed against jaw to turn her head. If it was love, that was simply an intoxicating cocktail of electrical surges and chemicals, they could find a way to reproduce it easily if they put their mind to the task. It didn't like sharing Jon, this canker of malice and violence formed by years of abuse. And yet here she was.
@xoline sent a raven:
❛ how much do you value your life? ❜ from punchy to baby doll
"Depends.'
The blonde's gaze flicked upward taking in the ensemble and face paint. It was cute, she supposed, and the girl did look sort of familiar. Of course anyone looking remotely like a clown looked familiar, tied to The Joker, which meant danger. That and the murderous glint in the woman's eye, that was a dead giveaway. Unfortunately for them both, Baby Doll had gotten used to that particular look years ago, returning her attention to buffing a harsh edge on her nail. Couldn't afford that, if she threaded her fingers through Roman's hair and it snagged there'd be hell to pay. She was risking life and limb just to play with the carefully oiled locks. Ugh, Italian men…
“We talkin' in money or gifts? Honestly I'm worth a 1970 Lamborghini Miura P400 S, at minimum, if we're talkin' cars.' A soft hum of pleasure escaped her, eyes closing to picture the car,. Gorgeous… ”In baby doll blue, of course, to match my eyes.'
There, all done, blowing the nail dust clear of her hand before tucking the file into its sheath, and back into the messy bun she'd lifted her hair into. Artful tendrils to frame the face, one over the forehead. Like she'd just gotten pulled from doing something. Or someone. Prettily glossed lips curled into a smile, skimming her thumb over the side of her nail to be absolutely sure. No reason to start a fight she couldn't win when she could avoid it.
“Or a crate of M4A1 Carbines, modified obviously, and possibly stolen from the Falcones.' Gaze lifts again, blinking once, twice, as the smile grows to expose teeth. ”Why're you askin'?'
