#and wyndell skins

[cerealischewy]

@wwwerra werra and wyndell doodles!!! and then wyndell in his merrymaker costume + dumb thing with wyndell and wilson

[nobilismare]

@galeforged ; ask answered

"You'll turn into a lobster yourself within the hour." (from Forwin to Ferdinand! also WELCOME BACK <3)

"Do not worry about me, Wyndell. I am used to staying out in the sun for long periods of time." As much as he tended to his armor or spent time on studying, he did train outside in the burning sun often or went for a ride to give his partner some much needed exercise.

"You on the other hand... Your cheeks are already looking a little red. Not to speak of your nose." While Ferdinand had a nice tanned skin, he wasn't immune to the strong rays of sunlight burning onto his skin. Perhaps he would regret seeking the shadows all too soon...

[macuilsung]

@armatization​​ said via Send A Number to Experience One of My Muse’s Memories (open!):

14. A memory of a relationship ;; doesn't have to be romantic but I Must Know

“He took it away from you again, huh?”

The answer she received only came in the form of an unintelligible grumble from the morose son of Gerth. Without holding his lute in his hands, keeping it strapped to his back, or even holding it in his arms for comfort, all he felt was emptiness – not that he felt much confidence in himself to begin with, even with his beloved instrument close by.

“He... said it’s distracted me from my studies too much lately.”

Books and tutors around the clock, until his mind hurt and failed to retain a single word from another page. Spellcraft until his blood boiled from calling on his unwanted Crest ad nauseum, now that going to the School of Sorcery in Faerghus was suddenly off the table. Always having to be mindful of his family name and father’s legacy, for some day it will be his burden to bear with all of Adrestia judging his every move – yet he cannot even go and speak with half the nobility in the Empire on his own terms without him approving of it. Punishments often followed when he dared protest or stray from anything of it, the only path intended for the rest of his living days, and he was told to feel thankful that taking away his lute was all Duke Gerth did this time.

Goddess knows Roland was capable of more, and Wyndell unfortunately knew better than the Goddess, from bruised skin where none could see to the occasional calls to his incompetence ringing in his ears.

“Your father isn’t here now, is he? You’re free! ...err, until he and Uncle Theo are done, anyway.”

At least sitting with present company gave him a moment’s rest. The boy was not confined to the walls of his estate, and running off to the beach until Roland came looking for him was just the balm he needed. Wyndell need only close his eyes to focus on the sound of the waves and breathe in the ocean air to imagine that he’s much further away, and allowing the sea breeze ruffle his once neatly combed hair however it desired to was all the more soothing to his frayed nerves. And his lifelong friend kept him anchored on the sandy shore here and now, with only her words and a soft hand to his back.

"You’re lucky...” he mumbled low lest he choked on his own grief, having to keep a palm pressed to his eye to wring out stray tears. Afterwards, it took little time for his arm to find itself joining its opposite in hugging his legs close, once again. “You don’t have to deal with... with all this pressure, these expectations. I-I never wanted any of this...”

“Perks of a cadet branch in a small barony, I guess. I know none of this is easy on you,” she sympathized as she sat close to the point of leaning on his shoulder, keeping her gaze on the horizon line just as he did, though it was not long until it too fell thanks to a pang in her chest. “And now he wants to marry you off to some floozy you never even heard of next. Right?”

“Y-yeah, I, uh... don’t know who Father wants for me either. He refuses to say.” Wyndell almost forgot his own misery from the odd turn in conversation. “I-it’s always for the good of Gerth, or the Empire, or... or something like he often says, but I d-don’t even get to have a say in that.” It was always to the benefit of the family name, these choices made for him.

“...then who?”

“Who what?”

“If you had a say in it? Who would you pick as your wife?”

“E-eh?” Only then did he realize he put himself in a corner while talking her ear off. Granted, Wyndell knew few noblewomen his age to begin with, but he did not speak such woes as if he already had a name in mind! The option to choose for himself was what he lamented, that was all!

But when he finally looked away from the sun preparing to disappear into the water and turned to find the expectant gaze of his companion... the pubescent nobleman suddenly became very aware of context. He also became very aware of how pretty she looked with the sunset making her hair glow, only for his face to turn as crimson as her eyes and tresses in realization.

“...s-sorry, it was... stupid of me to speak of something like that so lightly.” Saints above, this was mortifying! Quickly, he looked the other way along the shoreline of her family’s territory, lest he shame himself even further. Instead, all he heard next was a sigh escape her lips. Was she disappointed-?

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing... what again?”

“Apologizing when you don’t need to.”

“O-oh... Force of habit.” At least this sort of embarrassment was easier for him to swallow, but his expression sank back in turn to exhausted sorrow. Force of habit it was indeed, and he did not look to rush back to the man he often apologized to just yet. A few more minutes of this peace and quiet—albeit an awkward peace and quiet of his own making—with her is all he wants while he can still get it, before they get called back to the Ochs estate.

“Thank you for letting me talk anyway, Monica.”

“Of course, Wyndell. What are friends for?”

[alderheir]

@chokethelight​ sent:          ❛  that’s  low ,   even  for  you .  ❜ - Wyndel

          russet eyes blazed up at him as leia dug the emitter of her saber harder into his side, a low hiss escaping her.          ❝  i’m honored.  after all, whatever you think is low is probably the moral high ground.  ❞          how could her mission have gone so sideways in a path that actually seemed to hold more benefits than less?  she’d never expected to see him, let alone catch him unaware enough to have him at her mercy before he could retaliate.

          perhaps he knew, perhaps it was all simply a trap, but in the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care.  something had gone right.

          her lungs burned as she sucked in air, the thready thrum of her heart the only true indication at the panic running beneath her skin.  anger and ice were her shield now, and her grip on her presence of mind could provide the next step.

         ❝  i think you should come with me, Xylek.  ❞         it’s sour on her tongue, this victory, but however narrow, she’d use it.

deadly nightshade starters    -     accepting

[cerealischewy]

rahhhh @wwwerra !!! guys i love dont starve ocs

i was gonna make some skins for wyndell but i realized i didnt rlly have a clean ref of him (an updated one, at least) so i made one :D look at himmm and his baby deer legsss

[cerealischewy]

wyndell as a human ^_^ the constant took his man bun, so tragic

was talking with @wwwerra and ended up coming up with more lore for him! more below

wyndell was actually an author, who (ofc) made a deal with maxwell and was taken into the constant, which also turned into a shadow creature (unintentional, surprisingly). i was thinking of giving him a human-like appearance, as i was inspired by how charlie is visibly a human, yet she is still considered to be the darkness in the constant (and also made up of shadows). also bc i felt like his character was lacking! dw, he still has his shadow creature form, this is just some kind of skill im trying to implement (in my head). maybe it can be triggered by a full moon (how? don’t ask me. idk, it’s cool), or even insanity

another thing is that ever since wyndell turned into a shadow creature, he has trouble remembering what he looks like/who he is. this was kinda implied due to the lack of a face (in his shadow creature form). so, i think that having him revert back to his original self (…kinda), is an interesting idea! he’s finally able to look at himself and remember, but only for a moment, as he will soon turn back into a shadow, and forget. an endless cycle, if you will

note, if wyndell were in the game, his skins would definitely match his human form :3 also i will probably be digitalizing this, dw. he needs some color

another note, werra and wyndell might have some lore together 🤭

[macuilsung]

"I want the K!" for Dorothea c:

via Send me 'I want the K' and I'll generate a number (closed!):

Result: 7: Romantic kiss!

He couldn’t believe he went and finally said it. Despite the heart-to-heart with Byleth and the few rounds of liquid courage he indulged in before the professor cut him off, he still couldn’t believe he went and told them all the very next day. The Abyssian thought for certain that he would have chickened out of his decision come morning, but no, he followed through, much to his own surprise.

Whether it was the best call in the long run, he could not yet know, but after what happened with Monica and Jeralt? Blurring the lines between “Forwin Tyrell” and “Wyndell von Gerth” felt like the right thing to do in the present, and now there were no more secrets between himself and the others. For better or worse... now the Black Eagles and Ashen Wolves knew everything. His name, background, and Crest. Not one stone was left unturned where it could be helped.

With all of that madness out of the way, the bard simply opted to retire for today. Give his brain some much-needed rest after answering question after question. Ruminate on some of the reactions he received, bracing on how his relationships might change now that all the Eagles know he’s a fellow blue-blood. Nurse his sore cheek with some vulnerary after a robust slap from an upset Constance, which wasn’t unexpected, given their families’ shared history.

Have some needed peace and quiet to himself after sundown.

It was just him and his lute behind the greenhouse, the moon high above in a clear sky reflecting on the fishing pond, and the crickets singing their tune in the grass.

“...what the hell am I even doing?” Forwin groaned in self-admonishment, his hand stilling from strumming so that he may reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose hard. Did he only just wind up ruining everything for himself, and alienate everyone he’s befriended in Garreg Mach in the process? Much weighed on his mind yet.

For one... it concerned him that Dorothea didn’t say anything to him, standing there today in the classroom like a number of thoughts were crashing in on her all at once. No, that’s not quite it—it actually frightened him deep down, to the point he can’t commit to playing his instrument so that he can even relax at all. After all, she was many things to him now: his first real crush ever since he saw her perform onstage in Enbarr as the Mystical Songstress; a close friend among a house full of elites; someone with whom he could hold day-long conversations about their shared craft, let alone sing and play with; a woman he’s come to pine for all over again the closer they became with time.

Yet he kept mum while she tried to find a decent man to care for her in the future, as much as it pained him to see her continue her romantic pursuits. Besides, he knew it too well: what lifetime comforts can an Abyssian provide from an underground hovel for someone like her? Someone whom he felt is entitled to the world at her feet and the stars above, if he could will it?

No, it was far worse than that. He was an Abyssian whose real identity made for the very sort of person she despised most: a noble. Not that she begrudged her own housemates, save an unfortunate Ferdinand von Aegir, but she once confided in the bard some of her hatred towards the uppermost class and Forwin completely agreed with her at that, even validated it! Hell, who knows better the cruelties of nobility than a noble?

An honest one at least, but honest was the last thing he’s been with her all year round.

With enough regret to make his own chest feel heavier with sorrow than it healthily should, he set his lute aside so he could simply lean forward from his cobblestone seat, stare into the water, and be miserable. Hah, a miserable bard! Such a tale would be worth a good comedy production on its own.

“I’m... so sorry, Dorothea,” he murmured mournfully to none but his moonlit reflection in the pond, and hers. “There... There’s still so much I want to tell you I didn’t want to say in front of the others. Stories I want you to hear first, so you could understand why I’m...”

The pang in his chest only grew deeper, to the point he fell silent as he watched their images ripple in the water from the wind’s late night chill.

“...and not... just those. I also want you to know how painfully my heart burned for you all this time too, but... hey, not that I think I deserve your friendship at this point, anyway.” ‘It’s probably for the best.’ Those last words, he would keep to himself behind a sad smile and a long, tired sigh, as his eyes kept staring into those of her persisting like...ness... in... the water...?

...wait just a Sothis-damned second-

“DOROTHEA-?!”

With renewed vigour, the wide-eyed musician finally snapped to attention, scrambling up on his feet and turning to face the genuine article in question. Had he shouted any louder, he would’ve risked waking up the students in the dorms! What was with that look on the woman’s face right now? It’s almost like the one from this morning—wait, how long has she been there? She didn’t really hear all that just now, did she?!

...

...

...

OH GODDESS SHE HEARD IT ALL!!!

Mouth hung agape in belated realization, leaving an embarrassed Forwin to unravel at the seams! At this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be buried six feet under with growing panic. Tears weren’t welling up in his eyes now of all times, were they?! Saints above, this was mortifying-!!! How could this get any worse?!

“L...look, I, I know you have every possible reason to be upset with me, because I lied to you about everything, but please, j...just know that I-I never wanted to hurt y-”

“—MHFF?!”

So caught up he was in his own head that he failed to see her coming, as the former starlet practically threw herself onto the Ashen Wolf and pushed her lips against his own so that he may finally shut up. Suddenly, Forwin found himself acutely aware of sensations he never expected to have the privilege of feeling: the intoxicating beat of her breath against his skin with warmth; the full weight of her body onto his engraving itself into his mind; her fingers gripping tightly onto the aged white fabric of his facsimile Academy uniform...

All of it and more overwhelmed enough to melt into the kiss and almost forget the basic human instinct of breathing. Still, it took little time for him to gather his wits anew, and so did one arm wrap itself taut around Dorothea’s waistline while his other brought his cool palm up to her cheek.

Relief within him blossomed into sheer bliss and his worries waned as though they’ve already passed innumerable eons ago. Why, his heart felt so full to bursting that he could sing whole ballads of their first kiss alone, for never in his wildest dreams could he ever imagine she would...