Indie Fandomless OC RP blog. Please read Basics and Guidelines before you interact. If you have any questions, come to me and I'll answer them to the best of my abilities.
BASIC:
Hi there y'all. You can call me Alex or Scotch. I may talk tough or any kind of trash but I'm really just kinda a fragile little lightbulb. I use the pronouns he/him. I'm 20 so there will be NSFW content making appearances here. Whether it's sexual or violence/gore/etc., it might come up. But it will be properly tagged and occasionaly put under a read more. Living in the armpit of america, I must make it clear that I will not RP smut at all with any minors. It fades to black at that point if it even gets that far.
FOLLOWING:
I am a fairly selective person when it comes to who I want to follow. OC's and Canon characters from a number of fandoms are welcomed, but it is also my decision to who I choose to follow back. If I cannot see our characters connecting on any level - even hating each other - I will not follow. There are other reasons but [shrugs].
RPING:
Y'all have read the rules so far. Awesome! Have a cookie. I enjoy writing my character. I enjoy writing with other people's characters. This is not an exclusive blog in the slightest and I won't be secluding myself to a single version of a character. I enjoy interactions of all kinds and I like to see how different people would take on a situation with their character. If you have a problem with me playing with so many other versions of a character, I'm sorry I'm not sorry. I only RP with mutuals. I'm sorry about that, but it just helps keeps things organized to a certain point for me. If it's easier on me, I have a better time on here. I like to enjoy myself when I write. If you ever want to turn a meme into a thread, DO IT. Just please please please put it on a separate post. I don't like reblogging asks.
STARTERS/GREETERS:
So I have the habit of making greeters from time to time, and just about every night I try to post a starter call. Mutuals that like the starter call with usually get something within 24 hour prior to the post. If I ever post something and it's tagged [ ic.greeter ], then that means I made it without aking a starter call. It is just for when I want to call out to someone and all. I don't make them as often as I used to, however, so hop on a starter call if you ever want. Or, y'know, just pop into my askbox. If you can't think of anything but you want to RP, send me Praying Mantis in my ask box and I'll make you a starter. Only you guys that actually read my rules will get this chance.
ASKS/MEMES:
I love getting asks at random about or for Taylor here. If you've got a question for either of us, please send it and I'll be happy to answer. If you've got something you want to say to Taylor, do it. If you just want to hit him, I warn you that he will hit back. But we will answer. For those mutuals that want to send a meme but might not interact with me much/never have before, it doesn't matter. If I reblog a meme, it means I want you in my ask box. Even if it's a shippy thing, I can twist and turn it in just about any way to make it work. Just please do it, yes?
HATE:
I want all y'all haters to stop here right now. If you're going to send someone hate that isn't me, you better stop it. Don't bother them and send it all to me. Get it out in my ask box. But just know that I will neither respond to it nor acknowledge it. It is for you to vent your whiny asses and get over yourselves. Don't make other people feel bad, alright? Tumblr is supposed to be a place for us to escape into the fantasy world. Let it stay that way.
Alright, I think that just about does it so far? I will always be adding new stuff onto here if I can ever think of another rule I want to pop in.
Personal:
Name: Taylor Semuels Age: 31 Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual DOB: September 9th POB: New Jersey, USA [no known city] Hair color: Dark brown Eye color: Right eye blue, left eye green Height: 5’10” Body type: Lean, slightly muscled Piercings: None Tattoos: Whatever he chooses to have on his body at any given moment. Usually there is a playing card somewhere on his body. Usually, though, he has a flaming ace of spades on his left arm, an open bird cage in the realistic shape of a heart with silhouetted birds flying out, a tribal tattoo wrapping his right bicep, and charred and bloody wings on his shoulders and back. Scars: Left inner thigh from when he was jumping a fence, fell, and the top tore through his pants and into the flesh when he was eighteen, just above his right brow where he ran into a wall when he was seventeen, a rectangular patch under his left arm, usually covered by his flaming ace tattoo, a slice scar on his ribs where he was near stabbed, a small slice over his chest usually covered by a bird cage tattoo. Living situations: A small apartment, somewhat well furnished, but he doesn’t care for it much. City of residence: New York, not much of a big jump from Jersey Can usually be found: Doing some sort of trick or small show on the corner of a street or in a park or on a job he was hired for.
Personality:
Usually a kind soul, Taylor is an upbeat person to talk to and a joy to be around. He’s got a somewhat sunny disposition, even though he owns very little to his own name and had a shit life leading up. He is not quick to anger or annoyance, but can be frustrated very easily, either if it’s something he is trying to figure out or something that has happened to him that he doesn’t know the reason for. During his working moments or any time he has to drop the smiles and interest, he’s silent and serious. A great contrast from how he is usually. Whatever he does like that, he usually won’t regret it later. But he can drop it easily and pretend that nothing had happened.
Abilities:
● Ink manipulation: User can create, shape and manipulate ink, including moving ink, change the color, consistency/viscosity between solid and liquid, etc., even if the ink is printed/written/tattooed. They can write/scribe/tattoo without tools by manipulating ink.
● Ink Mimicry: Power to transform into or have a physical body made up of ink.
● Power Bestowal through Iconic Imagery: Self explanatory, really. If he were to tattoo someone and give them a certain image, such as wings on their back, they would be given the power of flight. He can manipulate the ink in his own skin to make it whatever he wants and use the power that comes with it. Anything that he were to make as an image with the manipulation would seem almost real or become a superhuman power for the person.
Bio:
Taylor knows neither his birthplace, his parents’ real names, or even the name that he was born with. He had been moving around ever since he was young, his parents carting him from town to the next when something seemed to go awry in his parent’s life. The child didn’t know what his parents did for a living either, nor did he know why they had to leave each time they did. It was something that he rarely asked them about, something he rarely even thought about as he figured it was normal. They moved, changed names, and forgot the life that they left behind. It was something that his family did and something that he didn’t much care to know any more of. This lifestyle continued for almost all of his life, up until his senior year in a town in New Jersey. He found his parents gone from the house they rented and everything moved out. They had abandoned him and left him behind yet he wanted to finish what had been started. Taylor was the last name that he had been given with the move before their disappearance, and it was the name that he graduated high school with.
He knew of his powers somewhere in the middle of his high school years, a wandering and bored mind leading to him drawing on himself with a pen. When he couldn’t wash off the mark or even smudge it later on in the day, he had started to worry if it was going to last. A wandering mind led to an active imagination, however, and when he was in class one day and letting his imagination loose, movement caught him from the corner of his eye and drew his gaze to his arm. The mark he had made on his arm with the pen started to swirl and twist around, forming a small image of one of the things he was picturing in his head. Taylor had been caught by surprise and started to test what he had seen, finding that he could control the image. He didn’t tell his parents of it, didn’t want to be a freak or cause them to move again, only for them to have to do so later. In his free time, he continued to practice, drawing on himself and letting the ink morph into any intricate designs he wanted.
After high school, he wandered the streets and used his ability to become a street magician, using the ink to make a number of different tricks and earn money like that. He took up odd jobs and traveled around when he could, making his money where he got the chance and traveling to bigger cities so that he could display his ‘magic tricks’ to a larger and better paying crowd. The big stage could never be for him, though, as all of his tricks had to be done up close. Street performances were working just fine for him, or the occasional awe in whatever bar he was spending an evening at. Of course, there are days or weeks that he has to do some things that he isn’t, and never will be proud of, but that’s what it takes to keep living in this world.
As he grew older, he was able to further tune his powers and realized his full capabilities. Allowing himself to be hired out by certain businesses, he had been offered jobs to secure information, steal certain objects, and occasionally kill. It took years for him to get used to the latter. Now it doesn’t bother him. A job’s a job and he’s sick of living on the streets.
sᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅs (Open): Main verse. Taylor in his early thirties, living in an apartment and spending his time either performing on the streets or running jobs for the people that hire him.
ɪɴᴋ ғᴏʀ ʜɪʀᴇ (Open): Marvel verse. Basically the same thing for him but just tagged differently and with the knowledge of the heroes not being from comics or movies.
ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴅᴇsɪɢɴᴇʀ (Open): His own little non-powered verse. Instead of being able to manipulate it, he's a tattoo artist. Works in a small place, lives in a smaller apartment, but still has fun with the slight of hand and doing performances on the streets in his free time.
ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴅᴇᴠᴇʟᴏᴘᴇᴅ (Open): Taylor in about his late teens. Just a younger verse for him, basically. Before he had learned the full extent of his powers.
ᴄʟɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʏ (Open): Dragon Age Verse. A former elven slave to a harsh master, Taylor's ears were clipped at a young age to seem more human. Later in his years he realized his powers and killed his master and their family, burning the manor to the ground as well. Doesn't live in a set place.
ᴛᴇᴄʜɴɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴀ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ (Open): Supernatural Verse. Basically his mainverse with Taylor being either on the streets or owning a small apartment from the money he makes. Just explaining his powers and how he became a witch after his parents abandoned him. Just to be able to fend for himself.
he has no idea what he’s doing in this place — i guess he just wanted to check up. he hadn’t seen mikey or his crew in what felt like months but had only been a week and he knew something was up. he was always around whether it be truly him or through one of his people. so here he was, simply meandering his way through the garage until he spotted an all too familiar mop of hair crouching in front of a bike. a sarcastic grin tugging at his lips as the smaller male seemed to jump from the sound of him clearing his throat.
’ —- where’s Mikey? ‘
he wasn’t gonna sugar coat anything, and he knew taylor would know where his fearless leader was — it was obvious to khaos that something was up between them, though he wouldn’t dare ruin anything for mikey — he was an asshole, but the guy was still his brother, and needless to say, would forever be his best friend. no matter how back this stupid feud was between the two of them.
’also, it could be your spark plugs. or you exhaust port, by the way. ‘
look before you speak. that was one of the few things that rang through his mind when he heard the other’s voice, bowing his head a bit and rubbing at the bridge of his nose before standing up. the bike would have to wait until later, it seemed, and that would probably give taylor enough time to wind down and not tear it apart just to find something that might not be broken. besides, his full attention was going to have to be put into this, if not just to keep himself composed to talk to the other leader.
’ michael? ’
to be honest, he wasn’t sure. the previous night, he was in bed with him, his leader having called out to him in the spur of a moment. but that morning, the bed was empty and he was left to himself. it had to be something important and immediate to be left out of the loop an hour into the morning, but even when he asked, this was all he got –
’ tending to some business. ’
he rubbed at the ridge of his blue eye with his thumb, cursing when he found it slick and pulling his hand back to see there was grease there. khaos mentioned the spark plugs and exhaust port and taylor looked to the exhaust, knowing that he’d yet to check there. that was the next checkpoint on the list now.
if it weren’t for the frustration that was bubbling up inside the man, he would have heard someone coming up behind him. there was something wrong with his bike, he could feel it in the seat when it was running, but for the life of him, he couldn’t find the issue. taylor wasn’t sure if it was a big problem or not, but the hitch had to be checked out in case something were to happen. kicking the damned thing was out of the question, though, no matter how close he was to. when a throat cleared from behind him, his shoulders jumped as he was crouched down next to the bike, having to place a hand on the ground beside him to keep from falling over.
“Well, I’ve been doing it for almost twenty years. I’d hope, by this point, my work is decent.” She chuckles, stepping away from the maps and papers, stretching out her back as she did. Demi was proud of what she did for the gang, and not afraid to show it. Within moments, a fresh pot of coffee was brewing, and her own mug was pulled from some hidden corner. “You alright, Taylor? I didn’t ask.”
As the second pot was brewing, Taylor had finished his own cup, and it was only until after Demi got hers that he refilled himself. The headache was ebbing away, slowly but surely leaving him more aware than before. "The ‘whatcha up to’ was another way of asking that to me, but I’m good. Think I fell on my head in some way last night, though.“ He gave a smile and a laugh at thinking of the ways he could have earned the bruise on the side of his head.a
‘——hey, down look so down, pretty boy. i was just making sure. i like hugging you, but, mm, we’re in public and i don’t think either of us want the boys to call us out. now do we?” a pale hand reaches out to touch taylor’s face, thumb grazing along the male’s lips. lips michael wanted to kiss.
'let’s leave before i get antsy, yeah?’
no, they didn’t want the boys to call them out, but with the minute touches that the other was giving him, taylor couldn’t help himself much. the thumb grazed along his lip and he let out a slow exhale through his nose, looking back up to michael before he nodded to them leaving. 'lead the way.’
“I can put on another pot, if you need.” She had every intention of doing so, but now she at least has someone who will appreciate the little touches she makes to make the gang more comfortable. “I got my system down pat. Been road captain for too long for this stuff to not come natural.” She takes a step back, hands on her hips, looking down at the work space, as if admiring it from afar will help. “Yeah…that’s it.”
Another pot was just what he needed, and looking down to the maps when she stepped back, he nodded slightly before back up to her. "You really do a great job. I remember looking over you shoulder a few times before I became official. Never understood how you did it.“ Then again, he was a bit of a scatterbrain when it came to focusing on something like the maps. He could never get it right no matter how much he could have focused.
michael pulled away with a low grumble, ‘whenever rose doesn’t stay with me, but.. mm, you remember my rules, taylor? or do we need to go over them?’ he smiled and leaned close once more, ‘because i don’t mind giving you a one over, babe.”
the first mistake of the night was forgetting the rules that were put in place – one being that he was to be touched, but touching back would be limited to only when michael said. worrying his lower lip the slightest, he looked up to the other and tried not to hold his breath as he leaned in close. ‘i remember them… sorry.’ and he meant it. taylor needed to make a habit of remembering whenever he was beckoned, clasping his hands behind his back the second michael pulled away.
She glances over to her papers, and back again at the man. He’s been around for a few years now, made his way up for all the right reasons. “Nah. I’m almost done. You just finish your coffee and get clear-headed. Got no use for a clouded rider.”
“I’m sure I’ll be clear in no time. Probably need another cup and a half after this one, though.” He chuckles a bit and raises the cup before looking back down to the road maps. "Doesn’t take so long when you’re used to doing it, huh?“
Demi is the resident den mother of the gang, whether they remember or not. They’re her family, and she takes care of them. “Road maps got all out of order on our last ride. If I’m gonna map out our next one, I need organized maps, right? It’s my method.” A small grin, her hand waving over the table, covered in papers.
His gaze drops as her hand gestures to the table, nodding his head a bit as he has a bit more of his coffee. At this point, he can tell that the headache might be from the bruise on his head and Taylor doesn’t even want to know how he got it. "Need any help organizing?“ Being used to being an errand boy of sorts for more years than he was a patchmember, he couldn’t help but offer. As if it was just reflex.
She glances up then, offering him a small grin. “Got some coffee in the pot. It’s almost fresh. Have at it.” She’s not much of a drinker anymore, but when you’re surrounded by big biker men, you get used to making hangover cures. “Doing alright. Just getting some organizing done.”
And she has been officially deemed his angel of the morning. The coffee is something he needs, and when he goes, pours himself some, and drinks it, he thinks he can already feel the magic working. Closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, he looks back to her and raises a brow. “Organizing?"
‘——don’t i always want you?’ not always, no, but tonight he wanted taylor, just like he had when he first met the younger male. a small smile and mikey wrapped his arms around taylor tightly, pulling him close. ‘come to my apartment tonight, yeah?’
it’s always random and unpredictable when michael would call out to him, but every time he does, the man can’t help but comply with his wishes. as the arms wrapped around him, taylor hummed softly and rested his hands on the other’s arms, squeezing gently before nodding to the request. 'of course. want be late or close to sundown?’
