#birch spinner

[lovelyllamasblog]

Erin Wintermoor ❄️

Parent’s Story: Old Man Winter

Powerful Qualities: Powerful, Inquisitive, Creative

Roommate: Sweetie Plumfairy

Secret Heart’s Desire: As much as I love winter, I would love to go somewhere warm and bask in the sunlight.

My “Magic” Touch: I can create snowflakes, frost, and other things related to winter just by thinking of them.

Storybook Romance Status: I don’t really plan on seeing anyone for a while now. I just want to focus on my future and what I want to do.

“Oh Curses!” Moment: Sometimes, my powers get away from me and I create miniature snow storms. My roommate, Sweetie, loves it, but others do not.

Favorite Subject: Arts and Crafts. Since my family helps with the creation of winter every year, I love to create different designs for snowflakes, frost, and winter wind swirls.

Least Favorite Subject: Advanced Elfonomics. It all just sounds like gibberish to me.

Best Friends Forever After: Briar Beauty, Birch Spinner, and Petra Pan. Crystal Winter and I go way back too. We’re practically sisters.

[aglionbyacademia]

(some of) the trojans doing the hear me out cake challenge and who/what I think they’d put on there

Jeremy: Jack Frost (Rise of the Guardians), Santa (Rise of the Guardians), the Easter bunny (Rise of the Guardians)(Jeremy just really likes this movie okay), the moon, cherry flavor vape, djungelskog, Mothman, Diego (Ice Age), Lightning McQueen (Cars), Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls), a crisp canned Diet Pepsi, Scar (the Lion King), salted butter popcorn, Appa (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Abracadabra by Lady Gaga, a yo-yo, Kevin Day

Cat: Sally (A Nightmare before Christmas), some high quality Espresso machine, Royal Enfield Classic 350, barkbark (she only puts him on to mess with Jeremy), Sudoku, McFlurry, Satisfyer Pro+ G-Spot (enthusiastic nodding from all the girls present), sour patch kids (Jeremy says “jeez those are children, cat”), Aloe Vera plant, Kevin Day (yes she’s a lesbian yes she would make an exception for him)

Laila: boba, the Billy bookshelf from IKEA, Philomena Cunk, a yankee candle, the tooth fairy (Rise of the Guardians), Sally (Cars), the dragon (Shrek), fuzzy socks, sour apple flavored lollipops, human skeleton prop, a clear quartz crystal, Wanda (Fairly Oddparents), Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan, the moon, Kevin Day (same as Cat, they’d do him together)

Cody: the dude on the pringles can, Gerard Way, Timmy Turner’s dad (Fairly Oddparents), a $100 bill, blåhaj, Pennywise, Bigfoot, any Banshee or ghoul, the number 3 (Jean gives him a side eye), Helena Bonham Carter as Red Queen specifically, Trixie Mattel, Vanessa Doofenschmirtz (Phineas & Ferb), Azula (Avatar: The Last Airbender), any Curry dish, 1973 Chevrolet Camaro, this:

and Kevin Day

Ananya: Mr Crocker (Fairly Oddparents), Cosmo (Fairly Oddparents), Scar (The Lion King), Espresso Martini, Pumpkin Spice scented candles, Fenty Gloss Bomb in the shade Fenty Glow, Monstera plant, Cody Winter (Pat high-fives her, Cody blushes), Tendō Satori (Haikyuu), Phineas and Ferb’s mom, Coach Wymack, Katya Zamolodchikova, the stardust period tracker app, Ghostface, succulents, Kevin Day

Patrick: Matty Healy, Sevika (Arcane)(yelling ensues because she’s just hot and doesn’t qualify as a hear me out), Heimerdinger (Arcane), Cody Winter (now Cody asks why he qualifies as a hear me out, Pat and Anyana just giggle), Matt Boyd, Spirit the horse, Gill (Finding Nemo), an Octopus, tea with milk,Thea Muldani, Colonel Sanders, sunscreen, coffee flavored chocolate, strawberry milk, Ghostface, Kevin Day

Xavier: one of those frog hats, Instax mini polaroid camera, iced hazelnut latte with oat milk from Dunkin’ Donuts, a fidget spinner, birch trees, Spirit the horse, Jafar (Aladdin), Ursula (The little Mermaid), Allison Reynolds, the first fall of snow, Berry B. Benson (Bee Movie), Squidward, Lin Manuel Miranda as Alexander Hamilton, Nicholas Cage, Kevin Day

Jean: a salted caramel flavored Protein Bar, Jeremy Knox, a Stanley cup, the sun, Neil Josten, Cappuccino, heart shaped sunglasses, Bambi by Clairo (I just feel like Jean would love Clairo ok), pastel colors, ivy plants, oat milk, watermelons, brownies made out of sweet potato, the smell of freshly mowed grass, Renee Walker, the feeling of direct sunlight on his skin, oversized sweaters, this emoji 🙂‍↕️, Kayleigh Day, a green smoothie, Kevin Day

(I want to add that I think the Trojans would have had to explain this game to Jean multiple times and that Jean was struggling big time to find things, especially things he’d share with the group. I feel like he doesn’t know many pop culture references or childhood shows and movies that the others mentioned so he went a more abstract way. He had lots of help from Cat while compiling his list)

[saintsenara]

scylla and charybdis - a snippet

severus snape/lord voldemort explicit graphic depictions of violence | major character death read here

i'm hoping to finish this chapter this week, so in the meantime have a snippet.

in which lily encounters hubris.

Above his head, a tapestry unfurled.

Leaves - wavy oak and sharp ash and fat field maple - were the threads, woven together by invisible hands into an undulating canopy. The sort of heavy, silky thing - shot through with skeins of gold - which you’d expect to see Charlton Heston or Peter O’Toole standing under while dressed as a Roman emperor, in the shit historical epics which always seemed to be on the telly at Christmas and which his dad was the only man alive who enjoyed.

Every different shade of green - the bronze of birch, like time’s tarnish on an ancient statue; the woozy chartreuse of aspen; the Lily-like emerald of alder - shifted and glittered like the image in a kaleidoscope.

It was like being in the common room on spring mornings, when the lake-light through the windows was a thousand-faceted peridot - pierced occasionally by thin slivers of champagne-colour from the world above - which bathed everything in its glow, and the thing which rattled a mile-a-minute in his chest was calm for a bit.

He’d try to wax poetic about it and Lily would tell him he sounded like a knob.

It was like that. And yet it wasn’t.

[It was like dying.]

[It was like trying desperately to breathe and not being able to, the flesh which connected his mouth to his lungs severed by Nagini’s fangs.]

[And he was choking - gagging - rasping - trying - trying to breathe and - ]

[‘I regret it.’]

[And then green.]

Severus knew full fucking well that he should have found the way the trees blocked out the sun refreshing. He was fucking baking. His hair was sodden and curling at the nape of his neck, making him look even more like a drowned rat than usual. The underarms of his t-shirt were stained with sweat, making him look even more like a poor cunt from Spinner’s End whose mother bought him his clothes third-hand from Oxfam than usual. He was forced to hold his arms rigid against his sides so nobody would see. He’d been moaning at Lily for the past fifteen minutes about how she’d better catch herself on and find him some bloody shade immediately or he was going to hex her face to her arse.

She’d just cackled, called him a wanker, and kept doing exactly what she wanted.

[But that was her fatal flaw, he supposed. She was young and fierce and full of hope.]

He’d had to develop the most smacked-arse face in history - he deployed it at exactly the moment they passed Woolies, because he knew she fancied one of the lads who worked there - just to get her to stop.

[She’d never seriously believed he could hurt her.]

[He’d realised that when a split-second bullet of pain flashed across her eyes - quickly blinked away; quickly replaced by something cool and hard and unfamiliar - when he called her a Mudblood.]

[He’d seen it and it had surprised him. After all, she took shit from pretty much everyone about hanging around with him - about what an ugly little prick he was, about how it would sap her golden beauty if she spent too long in his presence. Why should it have come as a shock that he was indeed capable of destroying her?]

[It wasn’t until later - years later, as her son charged after him and everything was in ashes and Dumbledore was dead - that he’d understood.]

[For all his sniping and muttering about loyalty to the Dark Lord and causing havoc in the classroom, Potter had never actually thought he was capable of killing a man. For all her lecturing about Mulciber and Avery and dark magic and the Death Eaters, Lily had never actually thought he was capable of becoming a threat.]

‘God, fine,’ she’d said, rolling her eyes at his whinging. Her nose was starting to burn. ‘This way.’

[How fucking ironic that Potter-the-Elder and his attack dog would be the people who changed her mind.]

She’d bunched her fingers in the sodden fabric of his shoulder (Severus turned his elbows even closer into his sides) and shepherded him through a set of wrought iron gates.

‘This the shade you were after, Sev?’

[You can’t thrice-defy the Dark Lord unless you’re enough of a sadist that he’s prepared to ask after you more than once, now, can you?]

‘This is a cemetery.’

‘Fuck me, is it? I hadn’t realised.’ She surveyed the expanse of graves which bobbed before them, like buoys in the sea, and sucked sardonically on the Zoom lolly she’d bought from an ice cream van while he’d seethed with jealousy and thought about murdering his jobless father and insisted he didn’t want anything. ‘How can you tell?’

Severus frowned at her through his curtains of hair.

(He’d been trying to tell Lily since the day they’d first met that there was a time and a place for her taking the piss, and she didn’t have to default to it in every bloody conversation they had. Not, of course, that she’d ever listened. But he’d expected that even she’d make some effort to recognise that a tent of green shade chilled by the ominous presence of the dead was neither.)

Lily was looking at him - through a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses she thought made her look like Brigitte Bardot and Petunia said made her look like Elton John - with the sort of condescending concern middle aged nurses might use on young men they think are about to top themselves. ‘Bloody hell, Sev, cheer up a bit. It might never happen.’

The sunlight - wriggling its way through the leaves - dappled her freckled cheeks and darted across her red nose.

The skin would peel later. And she would beg him to whip up a batch of Sunburn Soother in his cauldron and run it along to her. And he would, hurrying through the back lanes with it stoppered up in one the cheap glass vials his mum had to save for and which she always forgot to give back to him.

[He had made her the potion and she had kept the vial and when the Ministry had made an inventory of the house in Godric’s Hollow they’d recorded that dozens of them - dozens of fragile, breakable memories from the time Severus had been a person who’d tried to be good - had been sitting in a cardboard box in the cupboard under the stairs.]

The lolly’s viscous residue was clinging to her chin. It had rubbed off most of the shimmery lipstick she’d applied - with a solemnity he didn’t really understand - as they sat on the swings in the park.

[She was halfway between a girl and a woman.]

[She had coltish limbs and knobbly knees and she still held herself like a scarecrow. But something was beginning to bloom in her. Something intangible and immeasurable, something forever out of reach of his male grasp.]

[And she was drawing away from him.]

‘I’m not -’ Severus spluttered. ‘I’m not being miserable, Lils. I’m being solemn.’

[But he didn’t realise it at the time.]

She let out a screech of laughter. ‘Solemn? Why the fuck are you being solemn?’

‘We’re in a cemetery.’

(A listless breeze disturbed the leaves above them and a shiver ran up his spine. It took more work than he might have anticipated to repress the impulse to make the Sign of the Cross.)

‘No-o,’ she giggled, kicking a pine cone with the battered toe of a pair of jelly sandals he knew had once been Petunia’s, ‘we’re walking through a cemetery to get to the canal. It’s different.’

‘How?’

Lily sighed in a put-upon way, like they were middle-aged and married and he’d told her he’d forgotten to buy milk on his way home from work. ‘It just is, Sev. Everyone knows that. Come on’ - she grabbed his hand with sticky fingers - ‘we can cut across here -’

She stepped with great purpose - the sort of purpose only a girl of thirteen can possess - onto the mossy turf which covered some ancient grave. Severus yelped - and then flushed and folded in on himself at the stinging humiliation of screaming like a girl - as she tried to pull him after her.

Her mouth and eyebrows were curls of confusion. ‘Sev, what the fuck -’

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘I just told you? If we cut across -’

‘You’re standing on a grave.’

‘So?’ She looked, with dramatic exaggeration, up and down the path. ‘There’s nobody around, Sev. We’re not going to get in trouble.’

She grinned at him, wicked and cajoling, like she was a rebel without a cause and he was the cowardliest fucking custard in history.

(Something else mingled with his earlier embarrassment. The hot, angry feeling which always came over him when she acted like he was the sort of limp-wristed cunt who’s scared of his own shadow.)

‘That’s not what I - You mustn’t stand on graves.’

‘Oh, come off it! What’s’ - she examined the headstone - ‘Dorinda Millicent Clifton going to do about it? She died in 1891. She’s bones by now.’ She cleaned the lenses of her sunglasses on her t-shirt. ‘And she was probably a fucking bitch anyway, with a name like that… She sounds like someone who’d be friends with Tuney.’

‘I -’

‘I asked Nearly-Headless Nick about this,’ she said wisely. ‘Ghosts don’t have any connection to their former bodies. They could dig him up and behead him all over again, he wouldn’t feel a thing. And anyone who decides not to become a ghost is on the other side and doesn’t care, do they?’ She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, clearly rather proud of the point she’d made. ‘So stop being a fucking ponce and follow me.’

‘But it’s -’

‘Fucking hell, what is your problem?’

She stood, goggling at him, with her hands on her hips and the grave casting its shadow over her feet.

And Severus felt tiny under her emerald gaze, all the brighter in the green of the leaf-canopy. He wanted desperately to obey her - to not be a neek or a stick-in-the-mud or a nancy boy - and to just stride out across the bones of the dead. He wanted her to understand that he physically couldn’t. It wasn’t cowardice, it wasn’t because she was a fool to be his friend. It was because his legs literally couldn’t move.

But he couldn’t find the words to explain to her why.

[He didn’t yet understand the power of portents and prophecies.]

‘It’s bad luck,’ he croaked, looking at the ground. ‘It’ll bring you bad luck.’

‘Oh, God, really.’ She sounded terrified. Although it turned out she’d only been putting that on until he raised his head to try to reassure her, to try to chase the panic from her voice. ‘Fuck me, Sev. You’re so superstitious. Just look -’

She walked - exaggerating each step like Mr fucking Teabag - across a row of graves, until she reached the gap in the hedge she wanted them to slither through so they could walk along the canal. ‘See. ‘I am absolutely’ - she did an elaborate twirl, arms raised above her head like a ballet dancer - ‘fine.’ She cocked her head at him as he continued to stand - awkward and sweaty - on the path, separated from her by a river of subterranean decay. ‘What the fuck did you think was going to happen, you daft apeth? That I’d drop dead?’

[trash-eater-tiger]

Part 3 of my double life mob au! (Click for better quality, more information under the cut)

Meet sheep wolf Pearl and moobloom Scott!

Scott spawned in an oak forest, and wandered around before finding other people, however with little luck for his soulmate who he was ready to bond with and provide for.

Song: When You Danced With Me, by ABBA

Pearl spawned in a birch forest, where she met Tilly and got to work. After Tilly lost her first life, the two became “soulbonded” and Pearl decided she wasn’t going to be a sheep this season.

Song: She Does The Woods, by The Last Shadow Puppets

If anyone wants a specific pairing next, send me an ask! Otherwise I’ll hit the random spinner wheel, lol

Pose reference: https://pin.it/7gbfXp9so

[llama-aesthetics]

Alanna Dale 🪈

Daughter of Alan-A-Dale

Parent's Story: Adventure's of Robin Hood and His Merry Men

Powerful Qualities: Creative, Optimistic, Empathetic

Roommate: Meena River

Secret Heart's Desire: Music is my passion! I would love to be a songwriter someday! Luckily Sparrow lets me write some songs for his band, The Merry Men

My “Magic” Touch: Like my father, I’m a prodigy on the lute. I also play the flute too and I’ve written a few original songs too. Professor Piper and Melody are teaching me how to play the piano.

Storybook Romance Status: Daring Charming is just the most handsome prince at EAH isn’t he? sigh I would love for him to be my knight in shining armor.

“Oh Curses!” Moment: I tend to get lost in the music. When I start playing, I just can’t stop. It usually takes someone shaking me or a loud noise to make me stop.

Favorite Subject: Muse-ic Class of course! It’s a great time to practice and make new songs!

Least Favorite Subject: Swamp Swimming. I love being outdoors as much as the next forester, but a swamp is no place for me.

Best Friends Forever After: I’m childhood friends with all the Merry Men’s children, including Sparrow Hood and Wilma Scarlet. Melody Piper, Hopper Croakington, Sandra Castle, Yeh Jia Li, Mildred Goldstraw, Meena River, Wang Yan Mei, Linda Vorm, and Birch and Maple Spinner are some of my closest friends.

Pet: My pet rooster, Chanticleer, can really carry a note.

(🎀)

[ourrobotculture]

Game Night in the Mouse Family

Once upon a time, in the heart of a lush, green forest, the Mouse family gathered for a game night under the stars. The youngest mouse, Mimi, was especially excited, for she had just learned to read the dice and cards, and was eager to join her family in their woodland fun.

As twilight fell, Papa Mouse laid out their beloved board game, “Cheese Quest,” on a flat stone. The game was a family treasure, where each mouse had to navigate through a forest maze, collect cheese tokens, and avoid the crafty owl pawns. Mimi, with her tiny paws, rolled the dice and moved her mouse pawn with delight, her eyes alight with the thrill of adventure.

Mama Mouse then proposed “Whisker Twister,” a game that demanded clever strategy and dexterity. Each mouse took turns spinning the spinner and placing their paws on colored leaves without tumbling over. The forest echoed with their laughter as they contorted and balanced, creating a whimsical pile of mouse tails and whiskers.

Next, Grandpa Mouse, with his spectacles gleaming in the moonlight, set up “Mouseopoly,” a game of luck and property. They bartered pine needles for properties like “Conifer Corner” and “Birch Boulevard,” and Mimi showed a natural talent for negotiation, trading with her siblings for the most coveted spots.

As the night deepened, they played “Scrabble Scramble,” spelling out words with tiny letter tiles on a mossy log. Mimi’s word ‘forest’ earned her a hearty round of applause, as it used all her letters and scored her a bounty of points.

To conclude the evening, they played “Pictionary,” drawing and guessing with chuckles and cheers on a canvas of smooth bark. Mimi’s rendition of a ‘squirrel’ was so charmingly disproportionate that it sent the whole family into fits of mirth.

The Mouse family game night in the woods was a resounding success, brimming with joy, bonding, and the enchantment of nature. And little Mimi, with her newfound passion for board games, drifted off to sleep under the canopy of trees, dreaming of her next grand victory.

And they all lived happily ever after, eagerly anticipating many more game nights amidst the whispers of the forest. 🐭🌲🧀

[mkgtweety]

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VID MADE ON: 07/02/2022!!!! IN THIS VID PART 2, I {mkgtweety} UR "ROADIE CORRESPONDENT" TAKES U BEHIND THE SCENES AT HEMPFIELD TOWNSHIP'S {WHICH IS NEAR WHERE I LIVE AT IN THE PITTSBURGH, PA AREA!!!!} "CONCERTS IN THE PARK"!!!! FILMED DURING "SOUNDCHECK" U'LL GET 2 C MY, DAD "USING" HIS "SUPERPOWER": PLAYING DRUMS IN THE BAND CALLED: "THE VOGUES"!!!! {U CAN LOOK THEM UP ONLINE!!!!} 4 ALL THE MUSIC/DRUM NERDS OUT THERE, MY DAD PLAYS BIRCH CUSTOM YAMAHA DRUMS {WHICH THEY DON'T MAKE NE MORE!!!!}, HE HAS 3 RACK TOMS, 2 FLOOR TOMS, & THE BASE DRUM!!!! HIS SET UP IS LIKE UR BASIC "R'n'B DRUM KIT"!!!!, ZILDJIAN & SABIAN CYMBALS, ZILDJIAN LAMINATED BIRCH DRUMSTICKS, DW DOUBLE PEDALS, & AUDIX DRUM MICS!!!! I'M MY DAD'S ROADIE!!!! I HELP HIM SET UP AND TEAR DOWN HIS DRUMS!!!! "BIG" SORRY DIGITAL PEEPS IF U CAN "BARELY" HEAR ME!!!! W/ THE BAND PLAYING/WARMING UP, IT CAN B SUMTIMES HARD 2 HEAR ME!!!! THE SONG THAT THE BAND IS DOING/WARMING UP W/ IS A COVER OF THE SPINNERS SONG CALLED: "WORKIN' MY WAY"!!!! {THE SONG WAZ ORG. DONE BY: FRANKIE VALLY!!!!} THE VOGUES PLAY AT HEMPFIELD TOWNSHIP'S "CONCERTS IN THE PARK" EVERY YEAR DURING THE SUMMER IN JUNE OR JULY ON A SATURDAY OR SUNDAY!!!! I HOPE U DIGITAL PEEPS LIKE IT!!!! P.S. DIGITAL PEEPS: "HAPPY THANKSGIVING"!!!!

[onesmallbagel]

Hollykit from The New Prophecy. Hollykit is from ThunderClan. She is the daughter of Dustpelt and Ferncloud and born at the same time of her sister Larchkit and her brother Birchfall. She is a lively, curious kit and is found getting herself in trouble for her short time in the limelight. She passes soon after her sister, Larchkit, dies from starvation and her cause of death is Hypothermia. Shrewpaw later dies the same day. It’s said Shrewpaw looks over them from StarClan (Info gained from the wiki)

It’s been so long,,,,, because my chronic illnesses have loved kicking me in the ARSE. But I’m back! Probably not consistently and I doubt a lot of people are that bothered but I enjoy posting so it’s not that big of a deal!

Anyways, like every warrior cat fan ever I’m finally doing the required design posts. Except I put every single warrior cat character (1347, minus a few two-legs who I couldn’t be bothered to remove) into a random spinner and I’m gunna draw whoever comes up! And first up is Hollykit from The New Prophecy!! Imagine being Fern and Dust or even Birch. Your sister dies then very soon after your other sister passes away and then that same day your brother gets hit by a car trying to feed the clan. Then your mother cries that she wishes she died instead.

Need more Birch lovers, he’s got such a great story! Wish they wrote him interacting more lovingly to his daughters because I’d image he’d be protective of them after what he went through.

If I had to explain my design I obviously made her very spiky and just scruffy because of the Holly prefix and I gave her a lighter brown than what the wiki suggests because of Holly flowers! You can kinda see it but there’s a flower marking on her back. I was gunna show that to the side but I completely forgot lol.

I’m gunna be derailing from cannon a bit as well with the designs. It’s just more fun than drawing the same genetically accurate dark brown tabby with amber eyes 70 times over. Anyways, hope you like this! Bye bye!!!

Commissions are open! Dm me for more info!

-🌺🌸Bagel🌸🌺

[lovelyllamasblog]

Irene of Augen 👁️

Parent’s Story: One Eye, Two Eyes, Three Eyes

Powerful Qualities: Honest, courageous, compassionate

Roommate: Linda Vorm

Secret Heart’s Desire: Working in the Tower Hair Salon has really inspired me to bring out the beauty in everyone.

My “Magic” Touch: I can see people’s emotions. It’s really convenient at times.

Storybook Romance Status: No one’s really caught my eye, but Daring Charming *sigh*

“Oh Curses!” Moment: I sometimes can overstep my boundaries in wanting to help others. When I see a darker aura, it makes me want to help them and make their day brighter.

Favorite Subject: Princess Design. I enjoy designing for others and helping find their own beauty from within.

Least Favorite Subject: Mythmatics. I would rather keep it a myth and never solve it.

Best Friends Forever After: Alanna Dale and Birch Spinner

[lectern-fullcauldron]

A-Z hermit index

hermit summaries: looking for a hermit? here's some (all 26)

bdubs: perfect redstoner. artist. he'll build the most beautiful house you've ever seen as a backdrop for a joke he's doing. he'll see a rake lying on the floor and ask 'is anyone going to step on that so it hits them in the face?' and not wait for an answer. he'll shout at horses and hermits alike (don't tell etho). he's painting with blocks for fun rn

cubfan: he's insane. he takes on massive projects and completes them. he'll build a wall out of ancient debris if the aesthetic calls for it. he knows the game like a master, he'll use it to bemuse you. he's invented biomes, he's invented machines, he looked at parkour and decided it looked like fun. he'll drop anything to help a friend out

docm77: cower before this croc wearing dad. he really wants to be scary. pranking people makes him laugh so hard he snorts. he has the technical world in his ear and mojang's dev team on his heels. he doesn't know how to make a video shorter than an hour. he loves to roleplay to the sound of heavy metal. he'll rap at you. dork

etho: minecraft god. menace. interiors only. does what he wants. speaking of llamas... he won't turn up if it's work. he will if it's hanging out. his block palettes make a regular minecrafter cower in fear. he made a google-searchable storage system for fun. he avoids minecraft tax like the plague. has his own minecraft update

false: queen of heads, hearts, and body parts. the server's designated pvp-er. master builder. will dig down to bedrock. it calls to her, she can't help it. a little quiet, a little shy. dry sarcasm. mayor of falsewell, sheriff. always down for an unsuccessful shop if there's a pun

gem: gem is great! do you want a birch tree with that? people look at her and find themselves doing redstone for her and bringing her things. she's very sweet. she'll kill you. she's building a birch tree in someone's base right now, i can feel it. she's a landscaper, a builder, an artist

grian: this man is Trouble. half builder, half mischief machine. if he sees something he's not supposed to touch, he's got his fingers in it. he's stealing diamonds. he's starting wars. he plays the long game with his lore. he's desperate to resist authority. he will not build the back of anything. he'll break redstone. if he thinks something will be funny, he's convinced to do it

hypno: cryptid. menace. he's a little quiet because he's off figuring out how to get the others to sell him their souls. he's in charge of the website. he'll build a nice little home. he's great at hiding things

impulse: this man is in charge of villagers and sorting systems. he is rich with emeralds. he'll redo a build if he doesn't like it. he joined the server to build them a witch farm. buy his totems of undying. he is kind and generous. he's always willing to play along with whatever nonsense is happening. he loves to laugh

iskall: iskall has a whole catalogue of noises. he likes to montage them. he wants to build a big farm. he wants to say hallo to a block of gravel. he wants to laugh at mumbo. his shops are not about the profits, but about the redstone experience. he likes to domesticate biomes. he built a villager cannon. one day he'll finish a pvp arena. IskallMAN is hermitcraft's superhero. his hobby is making stress laugh

jevin: he covered a megabase with buttons once. jevin goes hard. he has a habit of building fidget spinners. he wants chaos. he will antagonise cleo. he has the energy of a small yappy dog whilst also being determined to help his friends and have fun

joe hills: poet. the guy who conquered death. it's fine. joe's channel is like watching a comedy of endless disasters. next problem. he's building block for block replicas of buildings. he's the original new guy. he's in charge of Hermits Helping Hermits. he'll label nether hubs and give out boats. he'll fight a war with poetry and prank with de-escalation. howdy y'all. keep adventuring

keralis: he's got those big eyes. he's building things too realistic to be in minecraft. he'll pull out his miette voice and make the joke about the German coast guard. need money? papa k's got you. want money? no he's got no diamonds. he's broke. so sorry. he wants to win everything. xb always beats him. he refuses to call anyone by their screen names. shashwammy and bubbles and brian and princess and bumbo

mumbo: it's quite simple, really. he wants to build redstone doors and industrial districts but people keep dragging him into trouble. he's got grian and iskall to drag him into mischief. he loves massive storage systems and control panels. he keeps ending up in charge of things. he will not come to meetings. nothing makes him happier than looking at redstone circuitry on coloured lines

pearl: running on not enough sleep, always. here to cause trouble. she'll turn things upside down. she's a master landscaper. she'll build something massive like it's nothing. she'll commit to the bit. what if the base was bigger? what if she turned it around? she likes doing interiors. she'll build a mountain for fun. unhinged

rendog: head of the drama club. he loves cinematic effects. he loves lore and using his brother's music. he's got a whole dressing up box of characters to play. he can sniff out a story happening and will dive over to throw himself into it. he'll build wonders off camera and pretend it was someone else. he's in charge of the log business, always

scar: landscaper. trouble maker. he doesn't know how to do things in moderation. every build has a story. his cat is in the game. he builds beautiful things and flies into them. he doesn't light things up. he dies again and again and again and again. he loves to put on the costumes and play a part. he's a conman. he'll buy your attic. he's ready to cause trouble. he's shooting people with his bow

stress: she's a builder. she makes things gorgeous. her favourite colour is magenta and her favourite volume is loud. she's shouting at her villager geezers. she's laughing at iskall. she's afraid of the nether. everything she does has an edge of unhinged-ness. she's bright and loud and happy

tango: he's a technical player. i'd call him a minigame maker, but they're bigger than minigames at this point. the tangler, boom box, decked out, among us. he looks at minecraft's mechanics and makes them fun. he launches anvils and builds piglin ferris wheels. he's in charge of iron farms. the rule is that they have to be funny. he wants to help his friends. he wants to make them laugh

tfc: he's deep in the mines. he's the server's hermit. he has a rumbling laugh. he's left in shock by the overworld when he rises. he plays slow. he indulges the others. he died laughing at cleo's ingenuity during demise when he could have easily saved himself. the hermits sent him a new computer. he's got prox mod now

beef: he likes to make maps!! he's very cheerful. nobody bought eternal sunshine. he's a NHO member: etho, beef, bdoubleo, doc. he's a determined builder. he'll make a story. he'll run from the mobs spawning in the city he's left dark for the aesthetic. he sells wool. he collects records

wels: he's a builder. he's a knight. he bites off more than he can chew. he takes his time and builds beautiful things. you think he's in hiding, he's just biding his time. he'll build medieval houses and rant about tennessee's driving conditions. he's cheerful and kind

xb: he's building shapes again. he's beating keralis at minigames. he's kind and helpful. there's gore in his bunker. he's moved so far away he's living on a whole other server. the world is ending but he's built a post-apocalypse anyway

xisuma: he has opinions. he's the admin. he's a little strange. he wants to design his own farms and buildings. he wants to have fun. cleo is going to bully him so bad at HHH. evil x turns up sometimes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. he wants to unravel the game and make new things and learn things. he watches over the others with fond confusion. cleo hasn't forgiven him for the fish

zedaph: mad scientist. he looked at minecraft and then decided to do his own thing. minecraft is the tool for his madness. he wants to fling objects. he wants to build gunk tanks. he wants to stare into the eyes of sheep. he'll build redstone machines that are effectively ineffective. he'll build a working clock. he'll study his friends like bugs. he'll build a golf course if the mechanics demand it

cleo: queen of puppets. the armour stand book is hers. she demands heads. she'll break joe's legs. her dioramas are in high demand. betray her and she'll burn the world down. she's soft really. she's always helping. she wants to build gore and monsters and laugh. joe is living in her base again. she'll kill him (she joined the server hiding behind him)

[moodyvoid]

The League of Villains houses in Minecraft.

Toga: Immediately takes everyone on a tour of her cute little birch wood home. First she shows off her pretty flower garden, then her murder dungeon.

Twice: They go to his quaint little oak wood house and see that it’s overflowing with piggies, because he keeps breeding them, but doesn’t want to kill them— and yes, they all have names.

Mr. Compress: The first thing he said when they started playing was “How do I make a crafting table?” This man does not have a house of his own so he goes in between everyone else’s houses and mostly focuses on farming and providing food for everyone.

Spinner: A builder. Building huge monuments, railways, and mob grinders. Has the nicest house. Actively tries to make the server livable and safe. (Also: eventually built Mr. Compress a house, to which he was rewarded with many baked potatoes.)

Shigaraki: Strip mining for diamonds all day until he has full diamond armor/weapons with the best enchantments, but probably lives in a dirt house.

Dabi: No one knows where he lives and every once in a while he comes out of nowhere to grief their homes and steal their stuff and/or leave vaguely threatening messages in their houses.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Facebook thrives on criticism of "disinformation"

The mainstream critique of Facebook is surprisingly compatible with Facebook’s own narrative about its products. FB critics say that the company’s machine learning and data-gathering slides disinformation past users’ critical faculties, poisoning their minds.

Meanwhile, Facebook itself tells advertisers that it can use data and machine learning to slide past users’ critical faculties, convincing them to buy stuff.

In other words, the mainline of Facebook critics start from the presumption that FB is a really good product and that advertisers are definitely getting their money’s worth when they shower billions on the company.

Which is weird, because these same critics (rightfully) point out that Facebook lies all the time, about everything. It would be bizarre if the only time FB was telling the truth was when it was boasting about how valuable its ad-tech is.

Facebook has a conflicted relationship with this critique. I’m sure they’d rather not be characterized as a brainwashing system that turns good people into monsters, but not when the choice is between “brainwashers” and “con-artists selling garbage to credulous ad execs.”

As FB investor and board member Peter Thiel puts it: “I’d rather be seen as evil than incompetent.” In other words, the important word in “evil genius” is “genius,” not “evil.”

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1440312271511568393

The accord of tech critics and techbros gives rise to a curious hybrid, aptly named by Maria Farrell: the Prodigal Techbro.

A prodigal techbro is a self-styled wizard of machine-learning/surveillance mind control who has see the error of his ways.

https://crookedtimber.org/2020/09/23/story-ate-the-world-im-biting-back/

This high-tech sorcerer doesn’t disclaim his magical powers — rather, he pledges to use them for good, to fight the evil sorcerers who invented a mind-control ray to sell your nephew a fidget-spinner, then let Robert Mercer hijack it to turn your uncle into a Qanon racist.

There’s a great name for this critique, criticism that takes its subjects’ claims to genius at face value: criti-hype, coined by Lee Vinsel, describing a discourse that turns critics into “the professional concern trolls of technoculture.”

https://sts-news.medium.com/youre-doing-it-wrong-notes-on-criticism-and-technology-hype-18b08b4307e5

The thing is, Facebook really is terrible — but not because it uses machine learning to brainwash boomers into iodine-guzzling Qnuts. And likewise, there really is a problem with conspiratorial, racist, science-denying, epistemologically chaotic conspiratorialism.

Addressing that problem requires that we understand the direction of the causal arrow — that we understand whether Facebook is the cause or the effect of the crisis, and what role it plays.

“Facebook wizards turned boomers into orcs” is a comforting tale, in that it implies that we need merely to fix Facebook and the orcs will turn back into our cuddly grandparents and get their shots. The reality is a lot gnarlier and, sadly, less comforting.

There’s been a lot written about Facebook’s sell-job to advertisers, but less about the concern over “disinformation.” In a new, excellent longread for Harpers, Joe Bernstein makes the connection between the two:

https://harpers.org/archive/2021/09/bad-news-selling-the-story-of-disinformation/

Fundamentally: if we question whether Facebook ads work, we should also question whether the disinformation campaigns that run amok on the platform are any more effective.

Bernstein starts by reminding us of the ad industry’s one indisputable claim to persuasive powers: ad salespeople are really good at convincing ad buyers that ads work.

Think of department store magnate John Wanamaker’s lament that “Half the money I spend on advertising is wasted; the trouble is I don’t know which half.” Whoever convinced him that he was only wasting half his ad spend was a true virtuoso of the con.

As Tim Hwang documents brilliantly in his 2020 pamphlet “Subprime Attention Crisis,” ad-tech is even griftier than the traditional ad industry. Ad-tech companies charge advertisers for ads that are never served, or never rendered, or never seen.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/05/florida-man/#wannamakers-ghost

They rig ad auctions, fake their reach numbers, fake their conversions (they also lie to publishers about how much they’ve taken in for serving ads on their pages and short change them by millions).

Bernstein cites Hwang’s work, and says, essentially, shouldn’t this apply to “disinformation?”

If ads don’t work well, then maybe political ads don’t work well. And if regular ads are a swamp of fraudulently inflated reach numbers, wouldn’t that be true of political ads?

Bernstein talks about the history of ads as a political tool, starting with Eisenhower’s 1952 “Answers America” campaign, designed and executed at great expense by Madison Ave giants Ted Bates.

Hannah Arendt, whom no one can accuse of being soft on the consequences of propaganda, was skeptical of this kind of enterprise: “The psychological premise of human manipulability has become one of the chief wares that are sold on the market of common and learned opinion.”

The ad industry ran an ambitious campaign to give scientific credibility to its products. As Jacques Ellul wrote in 1962, propagandists were engaged in “the increasing attempt to control its use, measure its results, define its effects.”

Appropriating the jargon of behavioral scientists let ad execs “assert audiences, like workers in a Taylorized workplace, need not be persuaded through reason, but could be trained through repetition to adopt the new consumption habits desired by the sellers.” -Zoe Sherman

These “scientific ads” had their own criti-hype attackers, like Vance “Hidden Persuaders” Packard, who admitted that “researchers were sometimes prone to oversell themselves — or in a sense to exploit the exploiters.”

Packard cites Yale’s John Dollard, a scientific ad consultant, who accused his colleagues of promising advertisers “a mild form of omnipotence,” which was “well received.”

Today’s scientific persuaders aren’t in a much better place than Dollard or Packard. Despite all the talk of political disinformation’s reach, a 2017 study found “sharing articles from fake news domains was a rare activity” affecting <10% of users.

https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/sciadv.aau4586

So, how harmful is this? One study estimates “if one fake news article were about as persuasive as one TV campaign ad, the fake news in our database would have changed vote shares by an amount on the order of hundredths of a percentage point.”

https://www.aeaweb.org/articles?id=10.1257/jep.31.2.211

Now, all that said, American politics certainly feel and act differently today than in years previous. The key question: “is social media creating new types of people, or simply revealing long-obscured types of people to a segment of the public unaccustomed to seeing them?”

After all, American politics has always had its “paranoid style,” and the American right has always had a sizable tendency towards unhinged conspiratorialism, from the John Birch Society to Goldwater Republicans.

Social media may not be making more of these yahoos, but rather, making them visible to the wider world, and to each other, allowing them to make common cause and mobilize their adherents (say, to carry tiki torches through Charlottesville in Nazi cosplay).

If that’s true, then elite calls to “fight disinformation” are unlikely to do much, except possibly inflaming things. If “disinformation” is really people finding each other (not infecting each other) labelling their posts as “disinformation” won’t change their minds.

Worse, plans like the Biden admin’s National Strategy for Countering Domestic Terrorism lump 1/6 insurrectionists in with anti-pipeline activists, racial justice campaigners, and animal rights groups.

Whatever new powers we hand over to fight disinformation will be felt most by people without deep-pocketed backers who’ll foot the bill for crack lawyers.

Here’s the key to Bernstein’s argument: “One reason to grant Silicon Valley’s assumptions about our mechanistic persuadability is that it prevents us from thinking too hard about the role we play in taking up and believing the things we want to believe. It turns a huge question about the nature of democracy in the digital age — what if the people believe crazy things, and now everyone knows it? — into a technocratic negotiation between tech companies, media companies, think tanks, and universities.”

I want to “Yes, and” that.

My 2020 book How To Destroy Surveillance Capitalism doesn’t dismiss the idea that conspiratorialism is on the rise, nor that tech companies are playing a key role in that rise — but without engaging in criti-hype.

https://onezero.medium.com/how-to-destroy-surveillance-capitalism-8135e6744d59

In my book, I propose that conspiratorialism isn’t a crisis of what people believe so much as how they arrive at their beliefs — it’s an “epistemological crisis.”

We live in a complex society plagued by high-stakes questions none of us can answer on our own.

Do vaccines work? Is oxycontin addictive? Should I wear a mask? Can we fight covid by sanitizing surfaces? Will distance ed make my kind an ignoramus? Should I fly in a 737 Max?

Even if you have the background to answer one of these questions, no one can answer all of them.

Instead, we have a process: neutral expert agencies use truth-seeking procedures to sort of competing claims, showing their work and recusing themselves when they have conflicts, and revising their conclusions in light of new evidence.

It’s pretty clear that this process is breaking down. As companies (led by the tech industry) merge with one another to form monopolies, they hijack their regulators and turn truth-seeking into an auction, where shareholder preferences trump evidence.

This perversion of truth has consequences — take the FDA’s willingness to accept the expensively manufactured evidence of Oxycontin’s safety, a corrupt act that kickstarted the opioid epidemic, which has killed 800,000 Americans to date.

If the best argument for vaccine safety and efficacy is “We used the same process and experts as pronounced judgement on Oxy” then it’s not unreasonable to be skeptical — especially if you’re still coping with the trauma of lost loved ones.

As Anna Merlan writes in her excellent Republic of Lies, conspiratorialism feeds on distrust and trauma, and we’ve got plenty of legitimate reasons to experience both.

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/09/21/republic-of-lies-the-rise-of-conspiratorial-thinking-and-the-actual-conspiracies-that-fuel-it/

Tech was an early adopter of monopolistic tactics — the Apple ][+ went on sale the same year Ronald Reagan hit the campaign trail, and the industry’s growth tracked perfectly with the dismantling of antitrust enforcement over the past 40 years.

What’s more, while tech may not persuade people, it is indisputably good at finding them. If you’re an advertiser looking for people who recently looked at fridge reviews, tech finds them for you. If you’re a boomer looking for your old high school chums, it’ll do that too.

Seen in that light, “online radicalization” stops looking like the result of mind control, instead showing itself to be a kind of homecoming — finding the people who share your interests, a common online experience we can all relate to.

I found out about Bernstein’s article from the Techdirt podcast, where he had a fascinating discussion with host Mike Masnick.

https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20210928/12593747652/techdirt-podcast-episode-299-misinformation-about-disinformation.shtml

Towards the end of that discussion, they talked about FB’s Project Amplify, in which the company tweaked its news algorithm to uprank positive stories about Facebook, including stories its own PR department wrote.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/22/kropotkin-graeber/#zuckerveganism

Project Amplify is part of a larger, aggressive image-control effort by the company, which has included shuttering internal transparency portals, providing bad data to researchers, and suing independent auditors who tracked its promises.

I’d always assumed that this truth-suppression and wanton fraud was about hiding how bad the platform’s disinformation problem was.

But listening to Masnick and Bernstein, I suddenly realized there was another explanation.

Maybe Facebook’s aggressive suppression of accurate assessments of disinformation on its platform are driven by a desire to hide how expensive (and profitable) political advertising it depends on is pretty useless.

Image: Anthony Quintano (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mark_Zuckerberg_F8_2018_Keynote_(41793470192).jpg

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[forbidden-sorcery]

Rusalka (north-western Slavic spirits) are female spirits of the forest or waterways. Their faces are pale like the Moon, and they wear robes of mist or green leaves, or perhaps a white robe without a belt. Their hair is green or brown, decorated with flowers. In the middle of the night, they would walk out to the bank and comb their long hair or dance in meadows. If they saw handsome men, they would fascinate them with songs and try to take them away. Or they would simply come out of the water to comb their hair or climb trees. Their underwater home is a place of vast marbled chambers hung with crystal chandeliers, its walls and floors set with gold and precious stones. When summer approaches and the waters are warmed by the rays of the life-giving light, they have to return to the trees, the so called “houses of the dead.”        Like the Vila, which they are sometimes conflated with, they are also known for being great spinners. They hang the results of their labors from the trees and lay it on the banks, where anyone passing should be wary of stepping lest they be caught in it like a net. The Rusalki are also explicitly known for being spinners of fate, who possess a powerful ability to affect the lives of local inhabitants. The Rusalki “decided who died and who would be reborn, who prospered and who perished, who married and who would be barren.”        For those who pay their respects to the Rusalki, there can be great rewards. Young women wishing to have a child demonstrate their devotion by decorating the branches of the Rusalki's sacred tree, the birch, with ribbons and specially woven pieces of cloth.

Lee Morgan - Sounds of Infinity

[hclfblccdprince]

THE HCLF BLCCD PRINCE. penned by v.

THE MUN — name: v pronouns: she/her/hers timezone: EST (GMT-5) fc: keegan allen

SEVERUS SNAPE — character: severus snape gender/pronouns: cis-male, he/him/his age: 18 birthday: january 9 occupation: assistant at diagon alley’s Apothecary pin board: HERE spotify: HERE

FACTS — Young Severus Snape had grown up amongst towering industrial chimneys and constant grime on his windows, the type making it difficult to see details out on the streets below. Spinner’s End was just that – the end of the road, the end of opportunity, the end of dreamers. Strange things had always happened to Sev as he grew older and through each passing day, he found those strange things easier to control. Sparks of joy at the ability to control his magic, at the wonder he experienced, are no longer felt now, and how naïve he had been, how those rose-colored glasses had fit so well. But they never grew, nor could he find a pair to fit him as a teenager. That is how Severus Snape looks back on his childhood, as though it were captured on an old film reel, clouded in sepia tones and weathered by age. He had grown up with a best friend who taught him kindness and patience. She gave him sunshine when he lived amongst the grime, never doubting him yet encouraging the hope that lived inside him. Potential, perhaps, is what Lily Evans saw in him.

That is how he remembered his version of the story as he grew into his Hogwarts years, telling himself potential came in all sorts of shapes and sizes. His was to find loyalty amongst his Slytherin fellows. They were the ones who knew him best, after all, those like-minded ( or perhaps ignorantly, he had not realized the insidious moulding they’d done on an impressionable, desperate young man ). Hogwarts had been integral in his teenage life. These were the years where Severus changed the most, trying on cloaks of different personalities to find the one that worked best – that made him fit in, feel welcome, feel wanted. All the while he had cast aside the young, fragile friendship he had with Lily Evans for the out-stretched hands of his Slytherin friends. He played into their wills and desires, and the more he grew his Purist beliefs, the further into the shadows he crept. It was safe here – safe where no one could see his cracks and tarnishes under the light, where he could cultivate his love for potions without showing weakness. He had learned that love, trust and friendship could lead one down a very dangerous path. Little did he know he traded these precious life skills for contracts, debts and loneliness.

Severus Snape looks back on his newly learned skill with a sense of bitterness that accompanies pride, pride that demands he never apologize for the hearts he broke throughout his years. He had grown into the man he wanted to become, hadn’t he? Yet in the quiet hours of the night as he picks the rarest of plants beneath the moonlight, he knows he became the man he was told to be. He followed instructions not of his own handwriting in the desperate act for belonging, but all the while realizing he had drawn himself further from those who could have helped him find it.

He works now in the quiet of the Apothecary away from the curious eye, trying to fight the duality that lives in his heart. Severus had given up so much in his quest and yet here he found himself alone, the way he liked it, knowing all the steps he’d taken to find that belonging had not been worth it. Purist, he thought to himself bitterly. Had the ascent meant anything at all? Was he desperately looking for any excuse to have made it all worth it ?

ANALYZING SEVERUS — What are your character’s political views ? Have they always felt this way or was there a specific event that played a role in the side they’ve chosen ?

Severus Snape is a Purist. He believes that magic must be protected, that it is a vulnerability that can outcast even the strongest wizard should word be spread throughout the Muggle community. He has been learned in the history of persecution from Muggles throughout the centuries and their desperation to stomp magic out. It terrifies him. He does not want to lose the one thing that makes him unique – strong. He has found a sense of community among those who have pushed their propaganda towards him and who better, than a lonely, angry outcast boy to win over? In some ways he knows he has been influenced by the jealousy that made his father so angry, to watch how the desire to have magic twisted up like an ugly creature in the man. He has been told time and again how dangerous Muggle-blood is and what the “insidious mixed breeding” ( Sev never agreed with this terminology ) could mean for wizard-kind. He seeks out those more well-informed of Purist beliefs to throw his counter-arguments their way, always to find himself speechless and in agreement with their viewpoints. Little does Severus realize that the propaganda being fed to him is tailored to fit their very beliefs, such a point he will come to learn much later on in life.

What is your character’s best and worst memories ? How did these event shape who they are today ?

Severus’ best and worst memory are one in the same, and not the variety that stems from miss Lily Evans, but instead his first day at Hogwarts. The loud eruption of cheers as he was sorted into Slytherin house left Severus with a sense of responsibility. He must live up to the expectations put on him by the roars of his fellow Housemen, and those who made Slytherin so proud before him. He felt, as a young boy making his way over to his house table, that he must, at all costs, ensure he lives up to the ideologies of the Slytherin house. What he didn’t realize at the time, that he looks back on with pity and regret, is he strayed into the hands of Purists without making that decision for himself. He wanted to fit in, to be welcomed, and to do so he listened in on conversations from upper years, asked for their help, and allowed them to shape his belief system. That roar of the Slytherin table sent his life in a direction he is not sure he would have anyone else. The impact of the silent responsibility was heavy on the shoulders of a boy who grew up isolated, confused and alone. Had he only clung to the self-worth he’d had with his childhood friend, had he realized the love he had for her weren’t a weakness…

Who is the most important and/or impactful person in your character’s life ? How does your character know them ? What is their relationship like ? 

It will be said over and over again, but Lily Evans had a powerful impact on Severus’ life. He found himself a hopeful young boy, one who could imagine being better, finding patience, and most importantly, true acceptance. Severus was not a dreamer but he certainly wished he had the power to stop time, and it was with Lily he wanted to spend that forever with. He is not so delusional now, no, despite the unrhythmic beats his heart takes up when he sees her. In the early days she reminded him that he is more than the life he’s made for himself, that he is better than he thinks he is – and yet in his later years, he finds himself bitterly wishing time with her never existed. Then he’d never have the push and pull of right and wrong within him. Morals needn’t hinge on the Order or the Death Eaters, nor the choices he makes every day, and yet Lily’s memory tells him it does. It tells him he cannot be complacent, nor neutral in this fight, and so he has concocted a version of her that may or may not have ever existed. All that matters is that his version forced him to choose and choose he did – whether he made the right choice is yet to be seen.

When your character was a child, what did they want to be when they grew up ? Are they on track to achieve those goals ? If not, how come ?

There was nothing Severus imagined himself to be, sad to say, from a boy who lived day to day as opposed to the wishful thinking of young people. He was trying to find a way of fitting in and only felt comfortable in the large meadow he shared with Lily Evans. She was a monumental part of his childhood as he had no one else – and so a future goal was not something he held. He instead wanted to pause time, to live in the present forever, for he knew well that things would change. Perhaps that was an unexpected goal – the need to live in every moment, to take life as it is in the present without any hopeful longing for a different future. It wouldn’t be until Hogwarts that Severus found his true passion in potions, but little did young Severus know he would ever find something like it. The art of potion making itself is time consuming and present-demanding. Perhaps his skill had been honed as a young boy who dreamt of nothing, who knew nothing else than this moment.

THE EXTRAS — wand: This wand is 10 ½” in length, with no obvious reasons why, however Severus likes to think that because his wand in particular is long, there is more expectation placed on his shoulders. It gives him a sense of purpose – that he must achieve something in his life, or the fated wand was never meant for his magic. The wand is made of hazel wood (this tree is an ancestor of the Birch, which resides over the birth date of Severus, 9 January, within the Celtic calendar). Hazel wood is suited for wizards who have strong control over their emotions, as it is a very sensitive wood that is able to detect the shifts in its user. It’s core, unicorn hair, is meant for wizards producing consistent magic and is, of all the cores, the most difficult to turn over to the Dark Arts. It is perhaps this knowable truth that reflects Severus’ heart, despite the miles of dirt of which it is buried under, still beating, a tell-tale. Sev’s wand is unyielding.

amortentia: Severus Snape would never know his amortentia, at least not sealed within the potion-making divination he loves so much. He is certain he would smell the flowers in the meadow where he spent hours as a child with Lily Evans, to the musty scent of potions ingredients gone unwanted for the ignorance of people keeping them from recognizing the valuable properties – but having to truly accept the things he loves in the form he loves so much is a burden he cannot carry. It is the one potion he has never made.

boggart: Lord Voldemort. An odd reality given Severus’ desire to rise within the Dark Lord’s ranks. However, given his constant turmoil, he finds the part of himself fearful of Voldemort also the part that pulls him into the Dark Lord’s ranks even more. There’s a sense of danger that Sev cannot ignore – he enjoys the comradery and power he gets from feeling as though he were accomplishing a great task. At the same time, he fears the life he’s given himself, nor can he ignore it no matter the hours he spends in the Apothecary or his home on Spinner’s End. Severus can lie to himself – tell himself that his boggart shows Voldemort because what Sev fears is loneliness and what life would be like should he lose his status in the ranking. That ignorance, however, leads him right into the monster’s clutches, one that will take tragic death to pull him out of.

patronus: Blackbird ( it is important to note that Severus’ patronus changes after Lily’s death, to that of a Doe ). The blackbird is often associated with witchcraft and the mystic world, however they are more aptly known as a messenger of death. The blackbird is able to move between different realms, carrying messages of warning, or caution, and with it hold powerful knowledge. Blackbirds are also isolated and often come with warnings to stay away. They also possess a very interesting ability – to mimic the calls of other birds, to blend in and give the illusion they are something they are not. In regards to color symbolism, male blackbirds are not entirely black, as they have a bright yellow beak. This symbolism is not lost of Severus – he knows the life he lives is shrouded in secrecy, cloaked, if you will, as the feathers of the bird are black. The beak, however, sits in his mind as a reminder that there is hope, there is light, and it exists within him. Finally, the blackbird represents the earth element, which fits our Capricorn Severus quite well.

WRITING SAMPLE — The quiet of the shop gave him a sense of safety. It was a bubble, easily broken by the ding of the bell signaling a customer, or an owl delivering an order form, but for now it was something Severus clung to. The shop reminded him of his dormitory at Hogwarts where he could hide behind the curtains surrounding his bed, nose buried in a book, no matter the subject; a cocoon in where no expectations are required of him. He can let the walls down, let his face fall into whatever emotion he is feeling. No longer is he restrained by the persona he must live with. ( His own fault, of course, for he is the one who painted himself into this lonely landscape ).

Severus glanced out the window of the shop as passersby did not enter, perhaps longing for an ice cream at Fortescue’s, or window shopping for the latest broomstick. It was with the comfort no one would be entering for anytime soon that Sev disappeared into the back room with every intention of marking down supplies for re-fills. Jar after jar, box after box of ingredients were sifted through, his quick-quill scurrying along the parchment that hung in the air beside him, listing the necessary restock items. Dust began to flurry in particles where the sun streamed in through the window and Sev required a step-stool to reach behind the tallest shelf as he’d left his wand beside the till.

Even if he had his most trusted tool with him, Severus enjoyed the labour required in potion making. He could not simply flick his wand and voila ! A potion at the ready, no, he knew the ingredients sparkled with respect when the maker showed true effort. This fact, quite Muggle-like in nature, reminded him of his father, who argued that cooking was an art form in which time and hands made the difference. Those had been the good days – the days when Severus was a young child, ignorant to the violence happening between mother and father, and the jealousy that overtook Tobias. It was not until he was much older that he recognized what bitterness could do to a man – and it was a trait Severus fought hard to deny in himself, a trait that he sometimes recognized in the middle of the night when he is tired, too weak to continue lying to himself.

One person had done him a great task in helping protect him from himself – one Lily Evans, their hours spent together as children not lost on Severus. It had made him kinder, softer, patient. It was with thoughts of her that he found himself pushing aside jars of forgotten ingredients so he could find the one treasure he kept hidden, a pile of dried, lily petals. Strong hands took the jar off the shelf and he stepped down onto solid ground, staring at the reminder of what he had lost, of what he had so harshly thrown away. Lily Evans was still locked away in his heart as the petals were here before him and it made his body ache in ways he’d never felt before. He knew he had hurt her, he’d known it as he spit angry words from his mouth, and yet he was the pathetic owner of regret, resentment and rage. His own doing. He had smashed her as he imagined smashing this jar, all the pieces breaking into chunks, into dust, into fragments irreparable even with a wand. They would hide in all crevasses and corners, a constant reminder of what he had done, haunting him, no matter where he ran to.

Severus slid the jar back onto the shelf and out of view once more. He needn’t any further reminder of what he had done.

As he stepped from the back room, list of ingredients in hand, he could have sworn he saw a shimmer of a glass shard from the corner of his eye.

[phandomphightclub]

Phinal Round Results: Prelude 

The Denny’s was absolutely packed.   The last time Danny had seen so many ghosts in one place was when Pariah Dark invaded, which automatically gave him an uneasy feeling despite the fact that he was in the ghost zone.  He couldn’t complain about them congrating in their own home.

“Geez, you think they’ll run out of pancakes?”  Tucker asked, staying close by Danny’s side.

“Tucker, I think pancakes are the least of our worries right now,” Sam said while pointing through the crowd to a familiar cape-wearing, pointy-haired, Packers-obsessed ghost.

“Vlad?”  Danny hissed under his breath, ducking under a fidget-spinner-shaped table.  The ghost sitting there peeked down, her blue hair flickering as a group of tiny blob ghosts swam in and out of it.  Danny was afraid she would call them out, or ask them to move or something, but she just smiled awkwardly before going back to eating her cheesecake.

“Okay, I get all the other ghosts, but what’s Vlad doing here?”  Tucker asked.

“My money’s on him bribing the Denny’s workers into capturing you for him,” Sam whispered conspiratorially.

“That can’t be right.”  Danny frowned.  “Tali said they don’t usually get paid here.”

“Which makes them even more likely to accept bribes, right?”  Tucker said.

“This whole place has been fishy from the start, Danny,” Sam added.

“Okay, but come on.  Do you really think Vlad would sponsor a meme tournament?  He’s, like, fifty.  I bet he doesn’t even know what a meme is.”  

Tucker shrugged.  “Maybe he thought it would connect him to the hip youth of today, who knows.”

“Look, we still don’t have any evidence other than that he’s here right now.  For all we know, he could be about to get kicked out.”

Sam peeked out from behind the table to where Vlad was ordering food at the counter.  He slapped down a stack of money that made Ectolight’s eyes widen to the size of plates.

“Yeah, somehow that doesn’t seem likely,” Sam replied.

As they were in the middle of deciding what to do about Vlad, a ghost hovered down under the table with them.  They had their red hair pulled up and held a cup of coffee with the Ghostbucks logo on the side, despite the fact that they were in a Denny’s.  

“Hey, sorry I’m late, I just got hired here.  Can I get you guys some food? Artsy’s really insisting people try his cheesecake.”

Danny blinked at the ghost, while Sam gave the ghost her best go-away-you-don’t-belong-here glare.

“Sorry, we’re not really here to eat right now.”

“Yes we are!”  Tucker corrected.  “I’ll take some of that cheesecake.”

The ghost – whose cup said Going-Dead, which might have been their name – scribbled down the order before flying off.

“Guess they’re so packed they’re treating people sitting on the floor as legit customers,” Danny said.  “But anyway, about Vlad–”

“Ah yes, what about me, little badger?”

“GAH!”  Tucker shouted in surprise when Vlad appeared, having to crouch to fit under the table with them.  It was such an unusual sight to see Vlad literally stoop to his level that Danny had to laugh.

“I was just saying I thought Denny’s didn’t serve frootloops,” he snarked.

“Ha ha, yes, back at it with the quips again.  I’m sure your petty humor has impressed the fools that frequent here.”  Vlad seemed to roll his eyes, but it was difficult to tell when they were flooded with red.  “Now tell me child, have you heard of the ghost they call Birch Tree?”

Danny froze at that.  “What about him?”

Sam discreetly elbowed him in the ribs, as if he shouldn’t have said that.

“Ah, so you do know.  Tell me, is it true that he was vanquished here a few days ago?”

Danny didn’t know what Vlad had to do with Birch Tree Fartman, but his guess was nothing good.  If that was why he was hanging around the Denny’s… Danny needed to get security on this, fast.  They seemed to like him; surely they would listen to him that Vlad was bad news.

“We don’t have to tell you anything,” Sam said coldly.

“And you can’t fight me here,” Danny remembered with a smirk.  “All fights have to be taken out back.  In the ring.  So good luck getting answers out of me that way.”

Vlad chuckled.  “We’ll see about that.”  He tried to stand, but knocked his head on the table on his way up.  “Butter biscuits!”  he cursed before flying off.

“That… was weird,” Tucker said.  “You don’t think he’s after the Reality Gauntlet, do you?”

Danny smacked his forehead.  He hadn’t thought of that, but it was the next logical conclusion.  Even if Vlad didn’t know about it yet, he was sure to learn if he kept poking around.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta let security know before–”

“Before what?” Tali asked.  Tucker shouted again.  Sheesh, Danny knew he was in the ghost zone, but not having his ghost sense to warn him when they snuck up on him was a pain.

“Vlad’s here,” he said as Tali settled cross-legged an inch above the floor.  Probably a good idea, considering he wasn’t sure he trusted the janitorial staff here.

“Vlad?  Oh yeah, we know.  Got a hundred bucks out of him.  Do you know how many pancakes we can buy with that?”  She grinned.

“Look, forget about pancakes!”  Sam grabbed the crossed straps over her coat.  “He’s going to want the Reality Gauntlet!”

Tali just laughed.  “It’s great that you’re so concerned, but don’t worry about it.  Our weapons manager Phantasmapurple9 has it locked up tight.  We’re not as stupid as we look here, y’know.”

Sam still scowled like she wanted to protest, but Danny knew better.  When Tali didn’t want to discuss something, it was over.  Almost like she was writing the script and wanted him to shut up so she could get onto the actual Phight or something.

Speaking of which, a loud guitar riff began playing from the stadium out back.

“Now come on, cheer up!  You don’t want to miss the pre-phight show!  Ember agreed to play for us, and we’ve got some other sweet surprises coming up!”

Vlad, and now Ember again?  Danny might seriously come to regret his curiosity about the end of the Phight.

Still, he let Tali lead him, Sam, and Tucker out from under the table and into the stadium.

None of them heard one of Vlad’s duplicates chuckle from his hiding spot on the ceiling.

“A weapons manager?  Well, I’ll just have to pay them a little visit.”

[kinmoods]

＂I asked the question about the gift sets/self care, and I gotcha! In that case, could I please get a self care/gift set (whichever is easier , or u can combine em ! :o) and positivity for Peter Quill from the MCU? ⚡⚡⚡＂

Fuck Anxiety Spinner Pin

Floating Bath Candles

Peter Quill Cosplay Necklace

Oh My Gold Bath Shimmer

Awesome Mix Vol. 1 Patch

Groovy Kind of Love Bath Bomb

Here you go, Starlord!! I had fun with this one, hehe ✨ I hope you like everything, just let me know if there’s anything you’d like changed! Positivity coming up too!!

— Mod Birch 🌿💫