#one dream about poodle moths

[gamebunny-advance]

158...

That's how many posts I have in my drafts.

[micyclemorton]

this is a loooong one, boys

yes this is going to be a masterpost for my main 12 trolls so you can get to know them! they’re not all in the same world, but I don’t have any class/aspect clashes. biographies posted under the cut! suirev - burgundy / lumina - bronze / dietas - gold / phobis - mutant / lamiac - olive / immera - jade / ruilin - teal / tracor - cerulean / itoria - indigo / jezakk - purple / astril - violet / cirlun - fuchsia suirev - sylph of light / lumina - page of space / dietas - thief of doom phobis - mage of life / lamiac - seer of mind /  immera - bard of heart ruilin - rogue of hope / tracor - prince of blood / itoria - knight of breath jezakk - heir of time / astril - witch of rage / cirlun - maid of void 

suirev, lumina, immera, ruilin and jezakk are alternian, but only immera and ruilin are connected in terms of their lore. dietas, itoria and tracor are beforan, and all connected. suirev, lamiac, astril and cirlun hail from exonera (the first planet in the universe of my fansession) and are all connected to each other.

suirev - praying mantis lusus lumina - star-nosed mole lusus dietas - chameleon lusus phobis - serpent lusus lamiac - fennec fox lusus immera - venezualan poodle moth lusus ruilin - raccoon lusus tracor - scorpion lusus itoria - ant lusus jezakk - harp seal lusus astril - angler fish lusus cirlun - axolotl lusus

~~

YOUR NAME IS SUIREV HELIOS.

Nobody believes you, not even your MANTIS LUSUS, but you know a lot more about the fate of the world than you let on. They dismiss your PROPHECIES as bogus, no matter how many tomes you write, and you’ve lost count of how many that is. You consider yourself PRETTY ENLIGHTENED, but not in the spiritual sense… yet. The spirits that pester your caste a lot of the time even seem to avoid you, which would have confused you a time ago, but now you know why.

You’ve developed a nasty habit of checking everything you want to say in your head, and they’re sick of being your mental proofreaders. They’ve made it very clear they dislike you, so you have some HEALING to do. People find you preachy, but that confuses you a lot. You’re mostly silent so that you can concentrate on the cacophony (spirits or no spirits) ringing through your pan, as you get some REALLY GOOD STORY IDEAS from them. Besides, you were named after an OLD GOD for a reason. You should have the right to preach.

One might even say that you’re COMPLETELY RAVING MAD, but at least you try to keep your appearance in check. It’s a shame your blood colour makes your EYE BAGS so obvious.

Your handle is LiteraryLunatic, and y★u end y★ur sentences with exclamati★n marks! S★ n★b★dy notices h★w tired y★u are! Besides, y��u’ve been staying up all night with pr★phecies racing thr★ugh your pan! 

~~

YOUR NAME IS LUMINA SERVIN.

You’re a maniacally busy troll, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, because your pan is always buzzing with NEW IDEAS. You have to keep yourself busy to fend off the ENCROACHING EXISTENTIAL DREAD that fills lowbloods like you. Your mole guardian helps you expand your desert-bound hive-workshop, because you’re often too busy - catering to all of the stupid VIOLET TOURISTS AND LANDDWELLERS in the nearby hive-clusters in order to make money and survive - to pay any attention to trivial household chores. 

You’re not very good at what you do yet - though some would suggest otherwise - and you’re just striving to be better. You can recognise that you have the POTENTIAL to be GREATER, and it’s all just barely out of reach. You made yourself some KICK-ASS GOGGLES, inspired by the human subculture of STEAMPUNK, which you adore. They’re probably your best work to date, and you wear them so constantly that you’re afraid they’ll meld onto your face sometimes. The metal they’re made of, BRONZE, is the same colour as your blood, and one of the most pleasing aesthetically, in your opinion. No-one’s figured that out yet, luckily enough.

You’re an avid blacksmith, inventor, tinkerer and the rest of it. You’re making quite sure that you possess any title that involves HANDS-ON CREATION, really. Sometimes, you COMPLETELY SPACE OUT when you should be working, thinking of how best to go about things that really don’t require that much thought. It’s just how you roll.

Your handle is MechanicalMiner, and SOoMETIMES YOoU CAN COoME OoFF AS A LITTLE TOoOo LOoUD BECAUSE OoF WHAT’S PROoBABLY INDUSTRIAL DEAFNESS, EVEN AT THIS AGE.

~~

YOUR NAME IS DIETAS LAMBDA.

Misfortune has pretty much DEFINED YOUR LIFE up until now, but that’s not important. What really matters is your job, and it’s a relief to have distraction. You know that you’ve been through a WHOLE LOT OF HELL, and would never wish that on anyone else. Ever since you crashed a training ship, blacked out for a bit and met your moirail, your dear ITORIA, things changed. Your HELMSTROLL DREAMS might have shattered, but she made sure you’re not too miserable.

YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING. Well, almost. After losing your biological eye in the crash, Itoria built you a brand-new one, and now you can see in INFRARED LIGHT as well. You’ve recovered thanks to her, and you want to repay her by TAKING AWAY THE SUFFERING OF OTHERS, doing what she did for you. You travel around selling CHARGED-UP PROSTHETICS to trolls in need, while simultaneously keeping off the trail of the OVERSEERS, a pack of Ceruleans who you’re pretty sure want to kill you and your moirail for saving people.

YOU’RE NEVER GOING BACK TO THAT PLACE. The training centres are a source of shame and hurt for you, because you abandoned your guardian to get a purpose that ended up not working at all. How dumb that was.

Your handle is PsionicProsthesis. Yx0xu speak with a flare that reminds yx0xu of the symbx0xl that was given tx0x yx0xu at the training centres, as it’s a hx0xpe yx0xu’ll never fx0xrget despite the negative memx0xries, and tx0x represent yx0xur lx0xst eye. 

~~

YOUR NAME IS PHOBIS SACCHE.

If your lusus could talk, they’d probably say you were a NERVOUS WRECK. You’re not going to tell anyone otherwise, because your shaking hands prevent you from pulling up the blinds in your constantly darkened hive. Not that you’d want to, of course, since you live in a GHOST TOWN. Populated by literal ghosts. They don’t interact with you much, which you’re extremely grateful for. If the drones thought you were alive, you’d be dead in two seconds flat, with your BRIGHT RED BLOOD on public display.

It’s MAGICAL that you’ve survived this long, but you think it’s because of the menacing SERPENT that you’re fortunate enough to have as your guardian. You like to use their scales to fortify the SCYTHES AND OTHER WEAPONRY you build for yourself. They tend to do most of the hunting, as you can’t risk going out of your hive much, but you do enjoy training. Your LIFE itself is a gamble, and it makes you paranoid as hell, but at least you’re a decent fighter. Not that anyone would know or care. You also like TELESCOPES and looking at the STARS, but have no idea that your symbol means anything to do with that.

Your handle is SerpentineStargazer, and youre a phucking,,,, phucking brasssh little,,,,, ssshit whossse dumb… dumb phorked tongue makesss you…. hisss when youre nervoussss. ~~

YOUR NAME IS LAMIAC FENRIS.

You’re small in stature, but that doesn’t undermine how HARD-WORKING AND DRIVEN you can be. After all, when you work for THE EMPRESS, things need to be perfect. You’re also RESIDENT TELEMARAUDER of SKAIANET SYSTEMS, being tasked with worming your way into people’s minds to sell DIFFERENT NEFARIOUSLY-LABELLED PRODUCTS.  You’ve never seen them made, but that’s not your job. It’s most likely for the best, anyway, seeing as how easily frightened you can be when FENFOXMOM isn’t around. Working for such an awful corporation and even more awful people - looking at you, Mr LaCroix - makes you sick to your stomach, but you need the security.

You’re a pleasant enough troll to be around, but can always change your expression and demeanour, your words cutting as sharp as the weapons you use to defend yourself. You do hate getting your claws dirty unless people really get on your nerve, in which case you’ll tear them to shreds verbally and physically. Somehow, the renovated ballroom you use as your office has been clean of client’s blood for a whole week! Something tells you you shouldn’t be excited about that, but what can you say? You’re territorial. Even though you can’t remember the last time you properly hunted, you can SEE WHAT’S GOING ON INSIDE PEOPLES’ HEADS and defend yourself. 

Your best friend at the palace is the HEIRESS, which can be a bit strange due to the remarkable caste-gap between you, but she barely seems to care about that sort of a thing, which is nice. She’s the reason you have the job at the palace, because you consider THE EMPRESS HERSELF to be a very disagreeable person, even though you can’t exactly state that out loud unless you’re gossiping with Cirlun. 

Your handle is FluctuatingFoxfire, and yo)u speak in a manner that perfec)tly c)o)nveys yo)ur need to) pro)tec)t yo)urself fro)m harsh judgement, while also) ho)no)uring the sign emblazo)ned ac)ro)ss yo)ur w)ork c)lo)thes at all times. ~~ YOUR NAME IS IMMERA METREN.  

You’ve always been down in the BROODING CAVERNS, doing what all Jades should do and tending to the Mother Grub as she churns out her little grubs for everyone to see. You’d rather not be around to see them, if you’re being honest. You think it’s all just tiresome, thankless work, and aren’t really sure why exactly YOU HAVEN’T RUN AWAY YET. The chattering of your colleagues makes your head hurt, and their happy-go-lucky demeanours just make you REALLY WANT TO SCREAM. At this point, you’d take being a lowblood fighting for their life over whatever job you have here. One occupationless troll among thousands won’t hurt the economy too much, right? You sure hope not.

The fuzzy, pathetic, colourless MOTH you have as your lusus is just waiting to be crushed in the busy environment, and she refuses to leave you alone. Most Jades’ lusii abandon them if they work in a cramped space and fulfil the DESTINY SET OUT FOR THEM, but yours won’t. It’s not like you have the HEART to tell them to leave, and they barely listen to you as it is. No one seems to, troll or otherwise, even though your ninth wriggling day has come and gone and you feel your WINGS growing in. Generally speaking, that’s more of a rare Bronzeblood thing, but you’re sure that’s why your back is itching. You suppose it’s one of the - only - perks of being grub-like. 

You just want to do one of two things: Have your colleagues SING YOUR PRAISES for your hard work, as they should acknowledge you, or ESCAPE INTO THE ALTERNIAN WILDERNESS so deeply that not even your lusus will be bothered to traverse your dangerous path. But you have to put up with the noise and the heat and the MURDEROUS INTENT blooming inside you where it shouldn’t really be in the first place.

Your handle is VindictiveVenusian, and YOUR’3 NOT <3RY TOL3RANT OF ANY HOOF33ASTSHIT YOUR COLL3AGU3S TRY TO SPOUT AROUND YOU, SO YOU TRY TO <<ARN THEM OF A POTENTIAL KISM3SITUD3 AT ANY GI<3N MOM3NT. ~~ YOUR NAME IS RUILIN CAPITA.

Some would call you a thief, but you have more dignity than that. Even though people continue to call you dirty and look down upon you for the nefarious way you act, it’s JUST WHAT YOU’VE BEEN TAUGHT by your RACCOON LUSUS. You love them more than you love getting your MONEY-GRUBBING CLAWS all over your newest riches, and that’s certainly a testament to just how highly you think of them. They’ve always been around for you, and you WISH SINCERELY that they’ll never leave, because they’re the only support you have. 

You weren’t exactly raised well, being stuck in the BROODING CAVERNS for far longer than you should’ve been while the lusii took charge of all the grubs around you. YOU’RE THE ODD-ONE-OUT. It’s filled you with WHITE-HOT RESENTMENT, and you’re on a mission to gain back what you lost. You’d once wanted to become a legislacerator or something like that, as with all the other trolls in your caste. But that doesn’t quite suit the reputation you have on the streets, nor the way you’ve been treated. Why get justice for a system you don’t believe in? Besides, you know that someone would rat you out so that you’d be culled, not be the one doing the culling.

You want to take back what was stolen from you, and you’ll get your TRUSTY GAUNTLETS dirty any number of times to do so. Mostly, though, you steal money just because you have the skills to. Being a mid-lowblood isn’t the best, so you’ve picked up tips and tricks from THE VERY THUGS YOU’D NOT WANT TO STEAL FROM YOU.

Your handle is RaucousRebellion, and ¥ou t¥p€ using th€ many $trang€ $ymbol$ ¥ou find on ¥our ¢oin$ and not€$ - that w€r€n’t €xa¢tl¥ *¥our$.* until a mom€nt ago.

~~

YOUR NAME IS TRACOR BOLDEL. 

Everyone agrees with what you have to say, and that’s exactly how you like it. That’s how it’s always been, from the moment you were chosen in the brooding caverns by your MAGNIFICENT SCORPION LUSUS. They left you long ago, because you didn’t think you needed them, and you don’t really care where they might be right now. They’ve taught you to be commanding, and now your words STING SHARPER than the knives you’re so fond of using at any opportunity you may get. It’s not necessary, really, but it makes you seem fittingly intimidating and means that NO-ONE WILL STEP OUT OF LINE. 

So you thought. Contending with idiots in the PRISMATIC TRAINING CENTRE FOR YOUNG PSIONS ((LOCATION B2)) is a much harder task than you first realised, due to the fact that there aren’t enough OVERSEERS and too many indigoblooded instructors that know that they can break your control with a little bit more effort than you can prevent. Why they couldn’t spare two ceruleans per centre is beyond you, but it hardly matters enough. You’ll kill with your knives if your empath abilities don’t work, or they don’t COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DOMINATE THE COMPETITION YOU’RE CONVINCED IS REAL.

Even though you’re so busy sending goldbloods to their deaths, and you don’t really have time for quadrants, ITORIA APREIN IS OUT FOR YOUR BLOOD. She’s the main reason why you think there’s an uprising stirring within the centre, and the trolls who you let loose from your control at the end of the day DON’T WORSHIP YOU LIKE THEY SHOULD. You’ll fix that over time, of course, but you are just waiting for the right moment to strike. Your handle is BloodthistyBenevolence, and yovr tone of voice is aluuays nnvch gentler than anyone uuovld expect it to be.

~~

YOUR NAME IS ITORIA APREIN.

Since you rebelled against the TRAINING CENTRES, there has ben a resolute sense of MORAL IMPORTANCE instilled inside you. You don’t think there’s anything else you can do to fulfil your need to help people than providing refuge for the goldbloods entranced by the idealistic, worrisome occupation of helmstroll. It doesn’t bore you if there are a few trolls that come and knock on your door every so often, because ANTMOM has always been around to support you, and she’s even harder a worker tham you. You’ve always wanted to redeem yourself, and realised that preventing the CERULEAN OVERSEERS from culling any more innocent lowbloods is the way to go. There’s nothing more that feels properly fulfilling than DEFENDING OTHERS WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT.

BREAKING YOUR APATHETIC SHELL has been a hard task and still is, but you’re working as hard as you can to prevent shutting away from the world. Emotional expression has always seemed like something forbidden, especially to INDIGOBLOODS like you. YOU DON’T LIKE FEELING VULNERABLE, but there’s nothing much you can do about it unless everyone just leaves you alone and without any chance to heal. DIETAS makes you feel better about expressing yourself, and you’ve developed pale affections for the little goldblood ever since you found them SCARED AND HALF-DEAD IN THE FOLIAGE. It frightened you, but now not much can. You’re a strong team, and you know they’ll be a backup when things go awry with your DEARLY DETESTED KISMESIS, TRACOR.

You use your knack and love of WIRING AND CIRCUITRY to keep everything safe, creating cameras to track the trolls in your care. You also enjoy SHOOTING DOWN SURVEILLANCE DRONES, because you’ll never truly be FREE of the Overseers and your haunting past if you don’t do something to prevent their poor, uncoordinated attempts at monitoring you. You’re glad for that bit of your unfortunate occupation, at least.

Your handle is EsotericEngineer, and yOu c△n’t seem tO seper△te yOurself frOm △ symbOl Of the life yOu left behind.

~~

YOUR NAME IS JEZAKK IMETAT.

YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT. There’s not much you can do about it, though, because your circus troupe’s on the rise, and the RINGMASTER is starting to get some very bad ideas of what they might do to get you to actually comply for once. There’s nothing you can say that’ll make the people around you actually stop and listen. You feel small, so you try to wear BRIGHT, FLASHY COLOURS and STRIPY TIGHTS to mimic the figures so prominent in the jack-in-the-boxes you’ve always been fond of making and tinkering around with. You have no idea when that particular fascination set in, but it keeps you distracted from worse things that might happen to you. Despite the fact that you’re a highblood, you’re younger than the other performers in the troupe and feel more vulnerable than you should be.

You’re not really meant to be in the troupe, anyway. There was a time where you assume some SEADWELLERS were hunting for food or the fun of it - none of which they need to do, you’re guessing, because of how rich they are -  and that was when you’d realised there was a harpoon broken off in SEALDAD’S side. So you saw the distant big top and ran to it, hoping that someone could help your lusus. He *was* healed, which you’re grateful beyond gratefulness for, but then… you don’t really remember. Blaring carnival lights, yellow-tinged and blinding, and then… EVERYTHING CHANGED. You never quite made it back to the sea, because the other purples started to teach you their ways, and you have an eerie feeling that they were trying to lure you into working for the ringmaster, who most of them (except for your ‘friend’ Othamo, who’s pretty fearless in a callous way) worship like a god.

Then you did, but you’re working for yourself most of the time. Wilfully disobedient. You just want to get out of the troupe, and you’ll do anything you can, but it’s been a few sweeps already. Performing with Sealdad makes you happy, and your contraptions do. So maybe it’s not so bad to stay for a little while longer. The time will come when you can make a break for it, you’re sure, just as long as you can secure an escape plan that means your lusus won’t be out of the water for too long at once.

Your handle is ClockworkCarnevale. _/[[ yOU’rE EAsIly scArEd, yOUr vOIcE gEttIng ErrAtIcAlly lOUdEr At wEIrd tImEs. bUt yOU bEt thE jAcks In yOUr bOxEs ArE fInE, sO yOU EnclOsE yOUr tExt In OnE tOO, tryIng nOt tO pAnIc. ]] ~~ YOUR NAME IS ASTRIL HURICA.

Though you suppose you go by ASTRIL ZEPHYR now. Nothing’s really worked out for you in your life, but the dastardly clairvoyant you’ve seen loitering around your ADOPTIVE DAUGHTER swears that EVERYTHING’S YOUR FAULT. She’s all wrong, of course, and you have the authority to - and half a mind to - completely banish her from the palace if she says one more thing to damage your opinion of her, which was always bad in the first place. You’re now the ‘mother’ of Cirlun, a disobedient and woefully immature fuchsiablood who was entrusted to you by virtue of your position as head of the VENERATED COUNCIL OF VIOLETS. It was disbanded many a sweep ago, with the heiress’ arrival on your sad little planet. THE COUNCIL was a committee of seadwellers with the purest blood, closest to that of a natural Aquarian, who banded together to keep the citizens of DUIIARIA (Now colloquially ‘Earth X’) from descending into anarchy. 

You don’t have the best relationship sense, being that you CULLED YOUR MOTHER at the tender age of six sweeps. You could argue that you were only small, and naive, but you were seething with unbridled resentment and RAGE, even knowing that anglerfish don’t talk and thus don’t communicate well. You’ve kept that QUIETLY MURDEROUS DISPOSITION ever since the deed was carried out, and never intend to drop it. Tyranny is the only way you know how to keep your citizens in check, and you don’t intend to learn any other way. It’s ruthlessly effective, and that’s the only standard you’ll accept. It’s probably one of the reason’s why everyone thinks you’re WICKED AND UNCOMPROMISING, even your own daughter. You’d like nothing more than to leave Cirlun to her own devices and show her just how foolish she is to want pacifism.

But now, you wait eagerly in the shadows until she reaches the appropriate age to ascend to the throne. Then you’ll truly teach her what it’s like to fight for her life, even though you never really had to in your own right. You’ve spent a long, long time trying to prepare Duiiaria for survival when up against MILITARY AND INTERGALACTIC OPPOSITION, as you want to conquer as much as you can. You’re not about to relinquish your autocratic mindset for a brat like her, even though she has the right by blood. It won’t matter so much any more if you spill it first.

Your handle is GalacticGalvaniser, and you speak As Cr1sply And D1rec7ly As You Expect Your Orders 7o Carry 7hrough 7o Your L177le C171zens. 7OUR 7EMPERAMENT CHANGES S11GH717 WHEN YOU’RE ANGR7, 7HOUGH.

~~ YOUR NAME IS CIRLUN ZEPHYR.

You’re the heiress to an empire that you want none of. You were adopted by a troll (despite having a rather pathetic and sickly lusus) after emerging from the CHOKING DARKNESS, and she won’t give you the time of day (unless it’s to mock you for your poor fighting times) so you’ve realised there’s no point in asking how. That’s the only thing you’re glad for, you suppose. The fact that she stays out of your hair is certainly good, because you’re not good in social situations or with diplomacy at all, and you have plenty of time to escape up to the palace’s extensive library. The library is the only time you get any relief from any pressure being an heiress brings.

Reading, of course, is your main form of escapism since it’s so easy to access. Nobody much minds that you while away your time in the library, save for when ASTRIL sends guards to pull you away from your latest fascination to train. Training, that is, for your imminent death at the Empress’ own hand - or trident, as it were. You don’t really know why she does train you directly, since you think that’s something you need to do for yourself, but you guess she *is* PRETTY DAMN BLOODTHIRSTY. The fact that you put up a fight makes everything that much more enjoyable, and you’d say you’re a MORE THAN SERVICEABLE fighter. So much so that you swear you’d be at the forefront of your mother’s GALACTIC ARMY had she not decided she wanted to cull you from the moment she first laid eyes on you. 

You’re pretty sheltered, being the only fuchsiablood in your timeline, but you do have a moirail (who you’re pretty sure your mother wouldn’t like at all by virtue of his being a MUTANT) that you sneak out and see under the guise of MYSTER WAEVEL, just another violetblood. Technology has made it easier for you to hide your own blood, and you’re hoping that Etoile could one day mask his as well. Inside the palace walls, LAMIAC FENRIS is your best and only friend, and you often sit with each other and talk when she’s not working. The stories she tells are mainly client complaints, but you’re lucky that the gory recounts she tells with such zeal don’t turn your stomach much. The bloodstains on her office walls don’t help. 

A lot about you is a total mystery, but that’s just the way you like it. 

Your handle is AlchemicAxolotl, named for your love of the lusus you’re NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE. ))((oping you )(onour your biggest rolemodel - w)(o's long gone, only around in t)(e b∞ks you pour over - you've since added a little flair to your typing, and t)(ink it l∞ks a lot more personal. ~

[7r0773r]

Valentino and Sagittarius by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Avril Bardoni

My mother had bought a house in the suburbs of the city. It was a modest house on two floors, surrounded by a soggy, unkempt garden. Beyond the garden there was a cabbage-patch, and beyond the cabbage-patch a railway line. It was October when she moved, and the garden lay beneath a carpet of wet leaves. 

The house had narrow wrought-iron balconies and a short flight of steps down to the garden. There were four rooms downstairs and six upstairs, and my mother had furnished them with the few belongings that she had brought with her from Dronero: the high iron bedsteads, shaky and rattly, with coverlets of heavy flowered silk; the little stuffed chairs with muslin frills; the piano; the tiger-skin; a marble hand resting on a cushion. 

My mother brought my sister Giulia and her husband to the house with her, and the eleven-year-old daughter of our cousin Teresa who was to attend the grammar school, a white poodle puppy and our maid Carmela, a sullen girl with untidy hair and bandy legs who was consumed with homesickness and spent every afternoon leaning on the kitchen window-sill, gazing at the misty horizon and the distant hills beyond which, she thought, lay Dronero, her home and her old father sitting on the doorstep with his chin in his hand, cursing and mutter-ing to himself. 

My mother had raised the money to buy this house in town by selling off some plots of land that lay between Dronero and San Felice; and she had quarrelled with all her relations, who had been opposed to the sale and the division of family property. But my mother had cherished a dream of leaving Dronero for many years, and immediately after the death of my father she began to think about it, discussing the idea with everyone she chanced to meet and writing letter after letter to her sisters in town asking them to help her find somewhere to live. My mother’s sisters, who had lived in town for many years and ran a little china shop, were none too happy about her project and harboured a vague premonition that they might have to lend her some money. Miserly and timid as they were, this thought caused them much bitter anguish, but they knew that they would never find the strength to refuse her. My mother found the house for herself; it took her half an hour one afternoon when she came into town. And immediately after agreeing to buy she charged round to the shop to ask her sisters for a loan because the sale of the land could not possibly realize sufficient for her needs. My mother adopted an air of prickly innocence whenever she had a favour to ask; her sisters had no choice and parted with a sum of money which they had no hope of ever seeing again. 

Then my mother’s sisters were tormented by another anxiety, that my mother, having moved to town, would take it into her head to help them in the shop. And this premonition, like the first, was duly realized. The day after she alighted in town with the cases, the beds and the piano, my mother had abandoned a dazed and bewildered Carmela in the new house, surrounded by sawdust and straw, and, fur-coated with beret jammed askew over wiry grey hair and cigarette clutched in gloved hand, was pacing about the shop giving orders to the delivery man and dealing with customers. Her sisters dejectedly sought refuge in the stock-room, sighing as they listened to the imperious clatter of her high heels. Long familiarity had made words almost superfluous: a sigh told all. The two of them had been living together for more than twenty years in the dark, old shop frequented by a handful of regular customers, elderly ladies whom they regarded almost as friends and whom they would engage from time to time in little whispered conversations between the glove trays and the tea services. They were genteel and timid and dared not tell my mother that her presence disturbed and irritated them and that they were even a little ashamed of her, of her brusque manner and vulgar, moth-eaten fur coat. 

When she got home, sighing wearily and moaning over the lack of system at the shop, my mother threw off her shoes and stuck her feet in the air to massage her calves and ankles because she had been standing around all day, and she moaned about those sisters of hers who still had no idea how to run a shop after twenty years, and here she was having to help them out without seeing a penny for her pains, and she moaned about her own stupid generosity which always made her work herself to a shadow for others with never a thought for herself. (Sagittarius, pp. 53-55)

[rampant-dot]

Me and @spoopydrawsstuffs was turning some of our ocs and fursonas into lil Hollowknight characters/sonas

Golden, as usual, kinda became her own character when I started thinking about the ramifications of growing up in the fallen Hollownest and being a moth, specifically

that and we agreed she'd be a poodle Moth so I went under the theme of "eerily looks like The Radiance"

Also dream catchers

And I like to imagine her staff works similar to the dreamblade? Like a charm that turns into a small dream like weapon/object. Only this one lasts longer then a lil swipe

[bardicknowledgeblogger]

Halloween Character Brew - Mothman

Hey Guys - I know it’s a bit early to be Halloween, BUT! I am going to try and do a “spooky” themed D&D 5E character design every week from now until Halloween to get into the spooky spirit. 

Some of these characters might play a little fast and loose with the rules, so make sure to check with your DM if you decide you want to take one of these guys out for a drive.

I’ll provide a backstory, flavor for items/abilities, and the actual character sheet for these characters on each post.

AND if you like these, and have a specific “Halloween Spooky Creature” them you want to see me do, reblog this (or any future Halloween Character Brew posts) with what you would like to see! Feel free to make them vague if you want (Jack-o-Lantern themed, Skeleton themed, etc...) or as specific as you want (Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde character) so long as it is recognizable and at least a little bit in the spooky mood.

If I have time. I might do more than one a week, but we’ll see. Now! Without further ado! I give you... 

The Mothman

Poodle Moth by Sandra Duchiewicz

Where did I come from? I no longer know. I’m not sure I ever knew. My earliest memories are of darkness - all consuming darkness holding me captive for so long... but then there was a light. That beautiful, glorious light. And it spoke to me, it told me of how lucky I was to be safe in the darkness. That the world would never understand me, never except me. But I yearned to be free of the darkness, to bathe in the light. One day I finally got my wish... oh, how foolish I was.

The world is not light. The world is darker than anything I had ever experienced. My dreams shattered around me as I saw the darkness within the soul of every person, every being on this mortal plane. “Now you see” whispered the light “Now you know what must be done” And like that, I was consumed. By light, by darkness, it no longer matters. I will use that which has claimed my soul to cleanse this world, and consume it in the darkness I now know as home. And in its wake, in its absence, there will be light. Beautiful. Perfect. Light.

The mothman is a character bent on bringing destruction to the world. Seeing the mothman is an omen that some great tragedy is about to befall you, and there is little to nothing to be done to stop it. 

He has no companions, at least not by choice, and will not rest until the world is consumed by darkness. His only companion is the light he always speaks of, though no one else can see this light. Perhaps it is some divine being, or simply a manifestation of his own mental instability. None can say.

To run the mothman, play a Fallen Aasimar (from Volo’s Guide to Everything).  Choose to be a Sorcerer with the Shadow Magic Origin (from Xanathar’s Guide to Everything).  Eyes should be blood red with white/gray skin and white, frizzy hair, and spellcasting should cause a foggy gloom to bleed into the area, adding a sense of dark dread to his appearance.

All of the Mothman’s spells manifest in the form of moths (Infestation = a swarm of small moths, Dancing Lights = Glowing moths fliting about), Give himself a more moth-like appearance (Alter Self = A sharp proboscis that functions like fangs, Levitate = Ethereal moth wings seem to unfold from his back to hold him aloft, Necrotic Shroud = Moth Wings rather than Angel Wings, Gust = A fast flap of ethereal moth wings) or of pure darkness. All spells involving light illuminate red.

His clothes and items reflect this as well. He wears a mask that is carved and painted to resemble a moth, with arcane antennae that serve as a focus for spellcasting. His clothes and robes have a tasseled, feathered quality, and his backpack resembles the thorax of a moth when worn.

That’s all! If you liked it and want more, let me know things you’d like to see. If you have your own suggestions on how this could have better been flavored, or your own spell/item suggestions, please share!

[foreversrain]

I just got tagged by: @b00gerface thank you so much! <3

Rules: Tag 10 people you wanna get to know

Nickname: Togameme is probably the only current one I guess atm but I’ve also recently had Salad, Satan, The Babadook, The Holy Spirit and theres probably more I cant remember atm

Gender:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Height: I’m not completely sure but about 165cm / 5′4

Sexuality:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hogwarts house: Probably Hufflepuff lets be real here

Favourite animal(s): I love all animals so this is difficult. Probably bats, koalas, poodle moths, capybaras and so many more this could go on forever.

Average hours slept: Before summer break it was probably around 5 or 6, now probably more around 8 or 9.

Dogs or cats: Bothhhh 

Number of blankets: Currently only 1 

Dream trip: Travelling the world tbh

Dream job: I don’t really have one tbh, I’ve always said I’m not too bothered what I do as long as I’m happy and enjoy doing it

When I made this account: According to my archive my first post was 5th September 2014 so I guess it was the same day

Why I made this account: I wanted to make an emo multi band blog since everyone was pissed at me for posting emo shit on my other blog and I thought there wasn’t enough emo band blogs, especially for the less popular stuff I liked so I made my own. Something obviously went wrong with that some where since this is mostly a kpop blog now but oh well

Followers: 888, I’ve lost over 100 in the last month I’m doing great

Tagging: @lovergirl-bandgirl @katlanacross @c0nstantdaydreamer @spookytwiggy @noscopeacrosstheretirementhome @hannibal6311 @cabaretvampire @annika-of-the-lost @leland-chapman-the-bounty-hunter 

[bluebewwymilkshake]

pls read this before interacting !!!

hello!!! i’m taco!!

uhhh i kind of, made this account for comfort n’ is a petre and agere safespace for me!! you’re free to interact tho esp if ur also a pet regressor or age regressor [to clarifyyy you’re okay to interact if you don’t lineup with anything in the dni, so,, please read that. it’ll be later in tha post i promise!!]

about me !!

my name is again, taco. but i also go by lance, berry, boo, and cinnamo! and others but those are the mai nones. i also wiiill talk about myself in the third person so pls pls keep that in mind.

to add on, i am a pet regressor n’ age regressor.;; i mainly use regression [and, sometimes dreaming] as well as a way to cope with trauma, stress, nnn all that. 

i am 14, big age wise. immm, not, really sure whaat the little age is to be, honest. sorry.

i go by it/he/plant/ber/pup pronouns for the most part too! altho i have more, feel free to ask :D.

I really do like making friends and talking with,, but imm, generally a little anxious n’ shy so apologies if i take a bit to respond!!

I really like collecting stuffies n’, i guess im only saying thsi so i can point out m favorite one which is this poodle moth stuffie that i have!!

I’m a cow n’ puppy regressor !! i think its just thos two!

i think thats all for the about me !!

do not interact if;

general dni criteria [homophobic, racist, transphobic, etc.]

ddlg, cgl, ddlb, mdlg, mdlb, etc.

abdl, ageplay

porn/kink/nsfw related blogs

map/nomap

anti agere/petre and anti age dreaming and pet dreaming

anti cglre

gore blog

terf/swerf/radfem

proship/anti-anti

mlm/nblm and/or wlw/nblw fetishizer

if u reblog/post stuff relating to problematic media, esp ybc, killing stalking, alfred’s playhouse !!

extras!!!

interests !!

object shows [bfdi, ii, etc!!]

baking, cooking n’ all that!!

pokemon

gardening, foraging, plants, herbs, etc.

coloring, drawing, jsuuut the arts in general.!!

likes !! colors;,, i rlly like all of them buuut uhh!! i rlly like red, green, n’ blue the most!! foods; i have a pref for sweet and/or spicy things!!! i rlly like stuff like chocolate and ramen specifically. i also rlly like fruits n’ cucumbers, n salads. milk n hot cocoa is rlly nice too but am okay with just water :D. activities; same as interestings, coloring, drawinggg,, collecting,, baking, gardening, all that!! --- i hope this is okay as an intro!!!

[sh-00-k]

About Me Tag

Rules: Tag 10 followers you’d like to get to know

Tagged by @nerd-girl-on-fire Thank you! 

Name: Sadie

Nicknames: Salad, Sadist, Satan, The Holy Spirit, (probably more idk)

Gender: Non-binary (I’m currently deciding not to specifically label it)

Star Sign: Aquarius 

Height: Somewhere between 5′2 and 5′5 ??? 

Sexuality: Androsexual

Hogwarts House: Hufflepuff (according to the sorting hat quiz I just took)

Favorite Animal(s): Bats, Poodle Moths (wow edgy), Cats (of all kind), (I love all animals I could list this forever lmao)

Average Hours spent sleeping: Who knows anymore, anywhere between 6 -12

Number of Blankets: 1 sometimes 2

Dream Trip: Literally everywhere lmao

Dream job: I don’t really have one anymore, tattoo artist maybe?

When I made this account: When I was 13 I think??

Why I made this account: I dont remember and I’m not going through my archive and reliving my tragic phases to find out.

Reason for url: I’ve used this for literally everything since I was like 14 but I actually have no idea where it came from anymore probably some joke about me being trash

I tag: (Idk who to tag heck this will mostly be from notes) @peachyjjongs @dreads-for-days @hannibal6311 @diuudiddy @c0nstantdaydreamer @katlanacross @b00gerface @athroatfullofglass @noscopeacrosstheretirementhome @annika-of-the-lost and anyone else who wants to I guess

[gamebunny-advance]

You've seen the banal things that I do post here.

Imagine what I don't share.

[foreversrain]

Rules: Answer 20 questions & then tag 20 people to get to know them. I was tagged by @mm-hey-cruel-world-2 Thank you! -Name: Sadie -Nicknames: Satan, Salad, The Holy Spirit, Babadook -Zodiac sign: Aquarius -Height: About 5′4 idk -Orientation: Androsexual -Ethnicity: White -Favourite fruit: Pineapple -Favourite season: Autumn -Favourite book: I haven't actually finished a book in a long time so idk -Favourite flower: Turkish halfeti rose and pennie blacks -Favourite scent: Coconut or vanilla -Favourite Colour: Changes everyday omg currently blue -Favourite animal: Bats and poodle moths -Coffee, tea, or hot cocoa: Tea -Sleep hours: About 9 atm -Cat or dog: Cats -Favourite fictional character: I don't really have one tbh -Dream trip: Road trip across America or Europe -When did I make this blog: Some point in 2014 -Number of followers: Currently 918

20 fuck okay I tag: @hannibal6311 @alex-is-band-trash @noscopeacrosstheretirementhome @xmiwxxhorrorx @c0nstantdaydreamer @lovergirl-bandgirl @piercethehorizion12 @5horrorprinces @annika-of-the-lost @motionless00 @headbanger98tv @ivyrose2 @massiveheartpainter @deziderium @princess-of-purgatory-and-bass @motionlessfan-base @unicorn-of-satan @tekni @yourinfernalmajesty1 @neurotransferral