#vee greenwood

[ijustkindalikebooks]

I don't know if I can say February was disappointing reading, cos I did read alot, I completed 32 books and most were pretty good, half of them all being either 4 or 5 star, but I also read books I was highly hoping to be good and then they were not.

I also think classic titles can be truly hit right sometimes and even some that you feel are similar just don't (take for example how I feel about Deerbrook and Under The Greenwood Tree, similar themes and settings, one I loved, one I had to prop my eyes open to finish).

One thing I will say that though some of these books I do suffer (and that is my choice) don't do that to yourself, if you are reading, do not suffer the book, I read these books cos I bought these books and want to read my shelves, but I'd definitely recommending going with the vibe and selecting something that will bring you hoy, this is not the year for choosing to suffer.

These are my favourite books of February!

Where The Drowned Girls Go by Seanan McGuire - If I really need to read a book that I know will be five stars, I go to a Wayward Children series novella. These books are tiny worlds full of incredible settings and brilliant characters delivered in under 200 pages. This book sees one of the girls from the school go to Whitethorn an alternative and stricter school that gets the kids to forget their doors and move on and become 'normal' again. Brilliantly finished and not over the top in melodrama, I liked how these characters got their stories.

British Landmarks And Legends by Jo Woolf - An ARC I asked for after going to an art course that revolved around local folklore and legends, this book has been a handy book when it comes to finding something a little unusual. Covering a range of places from mythologised castles to bleeding rocks in creepy forests, this book covers an incredible of different places, be that known like Stonehenge or The Bleeding Stone of Lynn. Highly recommend this and the 'Fantasy: Realms Of Imagination' exhibit at the British Library which I believe has events around the UK currently.

Other books I enjoyed this Month:

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green - In my post-project for awesome haze, I knew I finally had to read this book and I really now need to read the second. A fantastic book on the power of social media and how we as humans can be heroic and flawed and messy, this book certainly delivers fantastic characters and funny moments that give you a glimmer of insight into the world today. I think April May is my favourite least-likeable character ever made.

Ask A Historian by Greg Jenner - Jenner was one of the authors who worked on Horrible Histories (the TV show, you know the one that gave you a thing on Dick Turpin, right? *leaves quietly*) and this book makes clear why. Informative, witty and smart, this book is a learning circle, never mind a curve. A range of fantastic questions, that does take in international figures (I find history books tend to be quite western focused) this book is a fun read.

What have you been reading in February? I'd love your recommendation and reviews!

Thanks again for reading!

Vee xo

[goose-books]

and darkling (sorry ignore my other ask)

[darkling and i sniffing each other hesitantly through the bathroom door like cats to see if i can touch it]

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): i mean. it's jasper. it's always jasper. he was the root of this project and he's number one in my heart

scrunkly (my "baby," character that gives me cuteness aggression): RORY FLOWERS LET ME SWING YOU IN A CIRCLE LET ME WARM YOU IN THE DRYER LIKE A PLUSHIE. also vee is shaped like the word scrunkly

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): can i say. rory also? oh rory "should have been a comedic relief character but i fucked you up" flowers

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and i won't shut up about it for a week): does ara greenwood count. god i think about her

poor little meow meow ("problematic"/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): objectively the correct answer here is vee. however. 48-year-old depressed catman pushing his empty whiskey glass forlornly off the counter and putting his sunglasses back on

horse plinko (character i would torment for fun, for whatever reason): see above.

eeby deeby (character i would send to superhell): LEOVALD STAYER? STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING LEOVALD STAYER GOD DAMN FOOL RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD PRESIDENT OF THE WHORE

[lexxwithbooks]

📖: 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝑰 𝑯𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 (𝐸𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ #1) 💌 🏀📱

✍🏽: 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐡 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝

[onebluebookworm]

Marrying Harriet by Marion Chesney: In the heartwarming and hilarious conclusion to the School for Manners series, Amy and Effie Tribble take on the case of Harriet Brown, the recently orphaned daughter of a minister, sent by her indifferent aunt in hopes of being rid of her. Harriet is the embodiment of Christian propriety, and while she’s far from fashionable, Amy and Effie are certain they can work their magic once more. Unfortunately, notorious gambler and rake Lord Charles Marsham seems intent on wooing Harriet, and worse yet, Harriet seems intent on encouraging his advances. The Tribbles work hard to try and break the couple up, without realizing that Harriet’s plans with Lord Marsham are not for herself, but rather the Tribble sisters themselves!

That’s Not What Happened by Kody Keplinger: It’s been three years since Lee lost her best friend Sarah to a school shooter. Sarah was hailed as a martyr, said to have died proclaiming her faith. But Lee knows the truth. She knows because she was with Sarah when she died. And now that Sarah’s parents are publishing a book about her death, Lee knows it might be her last chance to tell the truth. But Sarah’s story means a lot to a lot of people, and the more Lee learns, the less she knows what’s worse - the guilt of staying quiet or the consequence of speaking up.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath: Esther Greenwood has everything going for her - she’s beautiful, talented, and enjoying a fun-filled summer internship in New York full of catered luncheons and lavish parties. But Esther finds she can’t enjoy any of it. She feels stifled, trapped. She can feel herself going under, fast, and when her return home only makes things worse, Esther worries that she may be going under for the last time.

The Low, Low Woods by Carmen Maria Machado: This story begins with The End - best friends El and Vee wake up in the movie theater of their hometown of Shudder-to-Think, Pennsylvania, with the credits rolling and no idea how they got there. It’s clear that there is something going on in Shudder-to-Think - women around town are forgetting things, strange monsters have been seen crawling out of the woods, and mysterious mushrooms have been popping up all over. When Vee makes a horrifying discovery at her girlfriend’s house, she and El are more determined than ever to find out the truth, and save the women of the Shudder-to-Think from whatever malevolent force has set its sights on them.

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix: The final girl is the last one standing, the one who faced a murderous monster, took him down, and avenged her fallen friends. But what happens to those final girls when the movie is over and the credits roll? Lynette is one such final girl, part of a secret therapy group with five other women and their therapist, working together to put their lives back together, deal with the creepy super fans, and maybe ease their financial woes with a new movie adaptation. But when one of their own is killed, Lynette’s worst fear is realized - someone knows about the group, and is hunting them down.

[noldorin-poet]

My Middle-Earth Roleplay OC **NEEDS REVISING**

People need to know about Maerwen, especially those who roleplay with her, so here you go.

* ~ Some dates and numbers are estimates. Some are accurate.

Not a fully complete biography, but close enough. I’ve gotta leave some mystery into it right?

Maerwen Elunis Lithviel - meaning: good, (first) beautiful maiden, (middle) light blue, (last) daughter of Lithvidel

Pronunciation: Mehr when or Mahr when, El oo nees, Leeth vee el

Born - 87th year of the Third Age

Race: Noldor elf - (or Golodhrim/Godellim as named by the Sindar)

Personality Type - ISFJ

Descendants - Noldor, Teleri, Sindar

Relatives - Lithvidel (father), Illenwen (mother), Calithil Lithvironiel (cousin)

Languages - Quenya (native), Sindarin, Telerin, Noldorin

Home(s) - Lindon (born), Rivendell (raised), Mirkwood (current home)

Later named Maerwen Legoves (or Legolasves) when she married the Woodland prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Thranduilion.

Distantly related to the High king of the Noldor elves, Fingolfin.

Her parents lived in Lindon, and Maerwen was born there. She and her parents stayed in Lindon until Maerwen was about the age of *26. That’s when they decided to leave the native home of their kin, and move further inland. Although, they did question whether or not it would be safer in Lindon, or in Rivendell: the elvish realm they planned on leaving to. In the end, they thought it wise to move to Rivendell, where Elrond ruled.

While they were traveling the wide space between the two elvish realms, they crossed near the quaint land known as The Shire. There, they came across some small creatures with curly, bushy hair, pointy ears, and big hairy feet. These creatures are more commonly known as hobbits. The hobbits they met while passing through the country were quite kind, yet a bit suspicious and skeptical as to what the elves could or might do. Of course, it was not the first time they’d encountered elves, nor would it be the last. Nevertheless, the hobbits were still cautious, because they knew of the elves’ greatness and high authority amongst the many creatures of Middle-earth.

Maerwen’s parents tried to stay in the forests as much as they could. For they knew the forest paths better. They also wanted to prevent from drawing too much attention to themselves. Even though, at the time, the world was at peace, there was always danger and evil lurking about.

The family soon made their way to Bree, where they spent two nights to resupply and relax. Past Bree, there was about 300 more miles to go until they reached Rivendell. Before leaving, however, Maerwen’s father sent out his messenger bird to inform Elrond of their coming and requested the safety of escorts once they reached the Last Bridge. They then set back out on their journey.

On one cloudy afternoon, Lithvidel’s bird returned with another message, stating that Elrond and his house were more than happy to have the Noldor elves live within his dominion, and would gladly send out escorts to meet them at the bridge.

So off they went for a few days. Soon, they reached none other than Elrond’s sons, Elladan and Elrohir, and a few of their guards, waiting for them at the Last Bridge.

Once they reached the entrance of beautiful Rivendell, Elrond was right there ready to greet them. He saw to it that everything they needed was provided for Maerwen and her parents, and that they were well situated and comfortable in their new home.

Relieved that they made it without any trouble, the three of them found Rivendell quite soothing and easy to adjust to. Especially for Maerwen, who soon made great friends with Elrond’s young daughter, Arwen, and also with his older sons; who often played with Maerwen and Arwen as well with other elflings.

Even though Maerwen lived most her life in Rivendell, she did sometimes miss Lindon. Having very fond memories of the harbor town she had lived in and the mountain cabin they would occasionally travel to. But she did enjoy Rivendell. There, she learned many things, including how to read write, paint, play the flute, as well as how to defend herself and ride a horse.

As she and Arwen got older, they began learning how to fight with knives and later, swords. Which Maerwen found to be naturally easy, being a Noldor elf and all. Maerwen and Arwen became fierce friends and fighters. They would often practice spar with Elladan and Elrohir.

Even though Maerwen wasn’t an actual princess, many of the elves liked to say she was because she was quite princess-like, perhaps from spending so much time with Arwen, the Eldarin princess.

(I haven’t exactly established this yet, but I might write about it in a fanfiction or something: Maerwen does, at one point when she is young, meet Glorfindel. Later on in life, she goes to Lothlorien to meet Galadriel and Celeborn and also spend time with her cousin, Calithil)

(Okay, here’s the part I think a lot of people will enjoy ^^)

Maerwen and Legolas -

Maerwen and Legolas first met on a pleasant midsummer’s day. When Legolas’ father, the Elvenking of Mirkwood(Greenwood?), Thranduil, had planned a meeting with Elrond and his council about certain issue with a disagreement with dwarves. Thranduil had brought his young son to spend time with a willing Elladan and Elrohir.

To the surprise of many, Maerwen and Legolas were discovered to have been born on the same day, under the same star. The twins often teased that they were destined for each other, which of course made the two elflings make faces at the thought.

Maerwen and Legolas were quite shy the day they met, but they soon grew quite friendly and playful.

Legolas would come often with his father on travel’s to Rivendell to play with his new found friend, or just come for casual visits. Legolas was also quite fond of Elrond’s sons, who he would rough around with, while he would play more gently with Maerwen; often being quite mischievous together.

It wasn’t until Legolas had come to the age of adolescence that he began to spend more time with the twins than with Maerwen, eventually forgetting about their childhood friendship. This made Maerwen quite upset, but at least she still had her good trustworthy friend, Arwen. They made a promise together that they would stay friends until the end of time,or as long as they both remained in Middle-earth.

There came a time when Legolas stopped making regular visits to Rivendell. Mainly only coming with his father on special occasions. That was all Maerwen would ever see of him for a while.

Even though it seemed that Legolas had completely forgotten Maerwen and their friendship as elflings, that was not the case. Which he proved the 2nd day of the Enderi festival(is this a real thing or?). He walked right up to her, glad to see his old friend. They reminisced of the things they did and the fun they had when they were younger. Throughout the rest of the entire festival, never once did they part from each other, until the day was over. Before he left, however, he offered to give Maerwen archery lessons and invited her to visit his realm. She agreed immediately.

To be continued!

[fxmobilemechanicservicesoma-blog]

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[indiecomicsofnj]

(via THE GOOD FIGHT: A Peaceful Stand Against Bigotry and Racism by Adam Ferris — Kickstarter)

Originally a reaction to the events in Charlottesville, Virginia, where white nationalists protested the removal of Confederate statues, and to the ensuing attacks, which resulted in several injuries and the death of Heather Heyer, THE GOOD FIGHT has since evolved into a more timeless commentary on the ongoing struggle against hate. Because hate itself will adapt to survive.The all-star roster of writers, artists, colorists, letterers and editors involved in THE GOOD FIGHT have graciously donated their time and creative energy to the project, resulting in more than 40 full color stories across a broad spectrum of genres. 

The complete list of contributors includes:  

Serg Acuna * Natasha Alterici * Dylan B. Caleho * Mirko Colak * Adam Ferris * Leo Finocchi * Rachel Freil * Ronnie Garcia * Nate Gooden * Justin Greenwood * Ryan Guitierrez * Matt Harding * Michael Lee Harris * Ray-Anthony Height * Phil Hester * Liana Kangas * Eric Kim * Steve Lieber * Eoin Marron * Drew Moss * Tony Parker * Skylar Patridge * Gavin Smith * Jason Strutz * Keyla Valerio * Gabby Vee * Chris Visions * Kelly Williams * Stevie Wilson * Chris Wisnia * Valentine Barker * Ariela Kristantina * Christian Ward * Logan Riley * Lydia Roberts * JH Williams III * Victor Santos * Lesley Atlansky * Bill "Moose" Baumann * Drew Browne * Dee Cunniffe * Triona Farrell * Kelly Fitzpatrick * Barry Hall * Lovern Kindzierski * Caroline Layne * Marissa Louise * Michelle Madsen * Pippa Mather * Manny Mederos * Chris O'Halloran * Alex Petretich * Stelladia * Fred C. Stresing * Matt Wilson * Deron Bennett * Aditya Bidikar * Simon Bowland * Bernardo Brice * Joe Caramagna * Christopher Crank * Cristian Docolomansky * Taylor Esposito * Scott Ewen * Jared Fletcher * Matt Krotzer * Chas! Pangburn * Troy Peteri * Nick Philpott * JG Roshell (at Comicraft) * Zakk Saam * Chris Antzoulis * Pablo Arriaga * Jennifer Battisti * Haden Blackman * Ryan Burton * Mario Candelaria * Kevin Cuffe * Tres Dean * Lucia Fasano * Bob Frantz * Lela Gwenn * Talia Hershewe * Van Jensen * Scott David Johnson * Jarret Keene * Danny Lore * Matt Miner * Ian Mondrick * Sammya Morris * Greg Pak * Eric Palicki * Paul Penna * Mark Rahner * Greg Rucka * Chris Ryall * Erica Schultz * Nadia Shammas * Pat Shand * Matt Sorvillo * Paul Tobin * Mark Waid * Jeremy Whitley * Scott Bryan Wilson * Nik Virella * Shaun Steven Struble * Jay Fosgitt * Sarah Macklin * Shawn Martinbrough * Bruno Oliveira * Henry Barajas * Chris Johnson, and more...

@lianakangas

Erica Schultz

Taylor Esposito

[the-record-obituaries]

Nov. 1, 2017: Obituaries

Hubert A Hankins,  85

Hubert A Hankins, age 85, left us on October 29.  He was a gentle and compassionate man who loved God, his family, laughter and good music.  He enjoyed electronics and his ham radio (W4UOD).  He had to opportunity to travel most of the United States and photograph the many sights.

               Hubert served active duty in the Korean War.  He moved to Wilkes in 1960 and spent his early career in auto body repair. He then began doing wedding photography with the goal of providing quality pictures at an affordable price. He did hundreds of weddings.  He served as a deacon and provided help and support to many people.  For several years he taped church services to provide cassettes for those unable to attend.

               He was the loving husband to his wife Charlotte for 61 years and proud papa to his daughter Lois and granddaughters, Brittany and Caitlin.

               A celebration of life service will be held 2:00 p.m. Saturday, November 4, 2017 at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Jim Gore officiating.                                      Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

 Mae Hawkins, 92

"Ruby" Mae Hawkins, age 92, of North Wilkesboro, died Saturday, October 28, 2017 at Wilkes Regional Medical Center. She was born May 27, 1925 in Wilkes County to Hillary and Minerva Baldwin Harrold. She was a member of Central Baptist Church. Mrs. Hawkins was preceded in death by her parents; her husband, Charles Lemon Hawkins; and grandson, Russell Hawkins.

               Surviving are her sons, Bobby Jerry Hawkins and wife Gloria, David Joe Hawkins all of North Wilkesboro, Steve Russell Hawkins and wife Janice of Hays; daughters, Shirlene Hawkins and husband Jacky of Millers Creek, Brenda Kay Hawkins Miller and husband Tim of Kernersville; grandchildren, Kimberly Hawkins, April Haney Olsen and husband Derek, Josh Severt; great grandchildren, Tyler Hawkins and Brooke Bauguess; and one great great grandchild, Glorianne Bauguess.

               Funeral service will be held 2:00 p.m. Thursday, November 2,  at Miller Funeral Chapel with Rev. Ronnie Millsaps and Pastor Donnie Shumate officiating. Burial will follow in Mountlawn Memorial Park. The family will receive friends at Miller Funeral Service from 6:00 until 8:00 Wednesday night. Flowers are accepted.

               Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

Hadley Church, 86

Mr. Hadley Sherman Church, age 86 of Millers Creek, passed away Thursday, October 26, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist-Wilkes Medical in North Wilkesboro.

               Graveside services will be held 11:00 AM Saturday at Scenic Memorial Gardens with Rev. Sherrill Wellborn officiating.

               Mr. Church was born November 11, 1930 in Wilkes County to V M and Celeste Greene Church. He was Co-Owner of Bruce Church Paneling and a member of Millers Creek Baptist Church.

               He was preceded in death by his parents, a sister; Vetra Church and six brothers; Hayes, Homer, Duane, Clay, Bruce and Hayden Church.

               Mr. Church is survived by his wife; Nelda Gentry Church of the home, a brother; Bryant Church and wife Bobbie of Wilkesboro and several nieces and nephews.

               In lieu of flowers memorials may be made to Lewis Fork Baptist Church, 395 Lewis Fork Baptist Church Road, Purlear, NC 28665.

 Roger Baldwin, 74

Mr. Roger Lee Baldwin, age 74 of Wilkesboro passed away Tuesday, October 24, 2017 at his home.

               A Memorial service will be held at a later date.

               Roger was born August 14, 1943 in Wilkes County to William Paul Baldwin and Ruby Billings Call.  He was a member of Yadkin Valley Baptist Church.

               Roger was preceded in death by his parents.

               He is survived by two daughters; Janice Baldwin Shepherd and husband Gene of North Wilkesboro, and Jennifer Baldwin Holding and husband John of Raleigh, and one son; Jeffery Baldwin of North Wilkesboro, six grandchildren, and one great grandchild, three sisters; Pauline Baldwin Alexander of Roaring River, Juanita Baldwin Johnson of Ronda, Glenda Baldwin Mintz and husband Bill of Mooresville, Jan Baldwin Boyd and husband Al of Thurmond, two brothers; Rick Call and wife Robin and Ronnie Call and wife Lorry all of North Wilkesboro.

 Ruby Lefevers, 80

Mrs. Ruby Burchette Lefevers, age 80 of Hays passed away Tuesday, October 24, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Wilkes Medical Center.

               Funeral services were held October 28,  at Haymeadow Baptist church with Rev. Matthew Foster and Rev. Lloyd Payne officiating.    Burial was in the church cemetery.  

               Ruby was born August 7, 1937 in Wilkes County to Robert Captain and Bertha Mae Clore Burchette.  She was a member of Haymeadow Baptist Church.  

               In addition to her parents she was preceded in death by a son; Thomas Beaman, a step-daughter; Lesley Ann Lefevers, a granddaughter; Lisa Pierce, a sister; Purnie Anderson and three brothers; James Burchette, Glenn Burchette and Robert (Bobby) Burchette.

               She is survived by one daughter; Margaret Sue Rhodes and husband Tommy of North Wilkesboro, three sons; Donald Beaman of North Wilkesboro, Jimmy Beaman and wife Tammy of Roaring River, Robert (Bobby) Beaman and wife Natalie of North Wilkesboro and step-son; James Daniel Lefevers and wife Julie of Crumpler, nine grandchildren; Jacob Beaman, Martin Beaman, Chris Beaman, Tonya Dimmette, Tommy Lee Rhodes, Robby Rhodes, Star Johnson, Josh Beaman, Kristy Jansen, twenty great grandchildren and five great great grandchildren.

               Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Pruitt Health Hospice, 924 Main Street, Suite 100, North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.

 Vee  Emrie, 84

Mrs. Vee Baker Kiser Emrie, age 84 of Rock Hill, passed away Tuesday, October 24, 2017 at Park Point Village in Rock Hill, SC.

               Funeral services were held  October 30, at Reins-Sturdivant Chapel with Pastor Joey Moore officiating.  Burial was in Yellow Hill Baptist Church Cemetery.  

               Mrs. Emrie was born January 5, 1933 in Wilkes County to Milton Greenwood and Zelma Mae Whittington Baker.  

               In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by her first husband; Charles Kiser and her second husband; Norton Emrie, three sisters; Lou Huffman, Irene Eller, Natella Blakeley, five brothers; Alfred Baker, Pervis Baker, Burl Baker, Gwen and Billy Baker.

               She is survived by one daughter; Sherrie DeLane Kiser of Rock Hill, one son; Charles Douglas Kiser and wife Trina of Rock Hill, step-daughters; Jody Jones, Rebecca Foster, Jenny Funderburk and husband Eugene and step-son; Christopher Emrie all of Charlotte, three grandchildren and five step-grandchildren, and one sister; Ennis Sponaugle of Boonsboro, Md.

               Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to the American Alzheimer's Association, 4600 Park Road, Suite 250, Charlotte, NC 28209.

 John Eller, Jr.  64

John Clate Eller, Jr. age 64, of Ferguson, died Sunday, October 22, 2017 at Forsyth Medical Center. He was born June 8, 1953 in Akron, Ohio to John Clate Eller, Sr. and Wavogene "Jean" Springston Eller. Mr. Eller was preceded in death by his father; grandson, Johnathan Cole Eller; and brother, Jack Eller.

               Surviving are his mother, Wavogene Eller of Ferguson; daughters, Kristy Eller Minton and husband Chris of Wilkesboro, Amy Eller Anderson and husband Chester of Moravian Falls; his son, John Clate Eller III of Laurel Springs; brother, Tom Eller and wife Yvonne; grandchildren, Jeffrey Dale George, Jamie George, Kayla Minton, Clate Eller, Jaedyn Eller, Katie Anderson, Daniel Anderson and Kaleb Viers; girlfriend, Carol Scott of Ferguson.

                Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital, 501 St. Jude Place, Memphis, Tennessee 38105-9956.                                      Miller Funeral Service is in charge of the arrangements.

 Janet  Bumgarner, 69

Ms. Janet Kay Bumgarner, age 69, of North Wilkesboro passed away Monday, October 23, 2017 at Westwood Hills Nursing Home.

               Funeral services were October 29,   at Hinshaw Street Baptist Church with Rev. Jim Gore and Rev. Jeff Collins officiating. Burial was in  North Wilkesboro City Cemetery.

               Ms. Bumgarner was born October 15 1948 in Wilkes County to John Paul and Blanche Lankford Bumgarner.  She was a member of Hinshaw Street Baptist Church. Ms. Bumgarner was one of the first clients of Wilkes Adult Daily Activity Program (ADAP), where she worked in the community.  She earned employee of the month several times during her 25 years of service.  

               In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by a brother; Kenneth Paul Bumgarner and a sister; Barbara Gail Bumgarner.

               She is survived by: two sisters; Sheila Bumgarner Shealy and husband, Fouche` of Columbia, SC; Paula Bumgarner Rhoades, widow of Doug Rhoades of North Wilkesboro; one niece, Alicia Gaddy Spicer of Elkin; three nephews, Scott Ashley and Jonathan Ashley both of North Wilkesboro, and William Gaddy of Elkin.

               Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Wilkes ADAP PO Box 968 North Wilkesboro, NC 28659.

               The family would like to give a  special to Thank You to the staff of Westwood Hills Nursing and Rehab Facility.

 June  Harris, 55

Mrs. June Elizabeth Gwyn Harris, age 55 of North Wilkesboro, passed away Monday, October 23, 2017 at her home.

               Funeral services was held  October 28th, at Reins Sturdivant Chapel with Rev. Michael Greene officiating. Graveside services   followed in Dow/ Ward Cemetery in Watauga County  

               Mrs. Harris was born November 7, 1961 in Avery County to Esquire May and Hazel Carver Gwyn. She was a CNA.

               She was preceded in death by her husband; Vincent Scott Harris and her parents.

               Mrs. Harris is survived by two sons; Bruce Watkins and Billy Felts of North Wilkesboro, three grandchildren, a sister; Rachel Hall of North Wilkesboro, three brothers; Esquire Gwyn, Jr., Earl Gwyn  and Ray Gwyn of McGrady.

 Geretha Handy, 70

Mrs. Geretha Handy, age 70 of Hays, passed away Sunday, October 22nd, 2017 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center.

               Funeral services were  held October 26th,  at Piney Grove Baptist Church with Rev. Larry Teague and Rev. Larry Wingler officiating. Burial was  in Piney Grove Baptist Church Cemetery.             Mrs. Handy was born September 22, 1947 in Wilkes County to Verna Mayberry.  She was a member of Piney Grove Baptist Church.

               In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by her husband; Albert McKinley Handy and a brother; Ronald Mayberry.

               Mrs. Handy is survived by two daughters; Tina Handy of Hays and Shauna Handy Riggans and husband, Barry of Hays, two grandchildren; Morgan Shumate and husband, Nathan and Beau Riggans, one great grandchild; Maverick Shumate and several special nieces and nephews and a special pet Buddy Lee.

               Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Piney Grove Baptist Church Cemetery Fund, PO Box 434, Hays, NC 28635.

 Toni  Boles,   43

Mrs. Toni Nanette Walker Boles, age 43 of Roaring River, passed away Saturday, October 21, 2017 in Wilkesboro.

               Funeral services were held  October 27th,   at Union Grove Baptist Church with Rev. Casey Walker, Rev. Karl Payne, Rev. Albert Saunders and Rev. Keith Knox officiating. Burial will be in Union Grove Baptist Church Cemetery. The family will receive friends from 12:00 until 1:15 at Reins Sturdivant Funeral Home prior to the service at the church.

               Toni was born February 15, 1974  in Wilkes County to Rayford and Kay Gentry Walker. She was a Sales Representative with AT&T and a member of Union Grove Baptist Church.

               Mrs. Boles is survived by her husband; Zemar LaFredrick Boles of the home, her parents; Rayford and Kay Gentry Walker of Roaring River, a daughter; Destiny Shakay Walker of the home, a son; Christian Ray Boles of the home, a grandchild; Quintion De'avier, three sisters; Tabitha Walker Dick and husband, Daniel of Roaring River, Tandy Walker of Roaring River and Carmen L. Harris of Wilkesboro and one brother; Casey Rayford Walker of Roaring River.

               Flowers will be accepted or memorials may be made to Union Grove Baptist Church 6768 Old 60, Roaring River, NC 28669.

Carl Triplett,  84

Carl Max "Buster" Triplett, age 84, of North Wilkesboro, died Sunday, October 22, 2017 at Wilkes Regional Medical Center. He was born April 15, 1933 in Wilkes County to Mathie and Vera Hamby Triplett. He was preceded in death by his parents; two daughters; and a son.

               Surviving are his son, Jeffrey Triplett and wife Misty of New York; and two brothers, Roy Clay Triplette and wife Reba of Millers Creek, Boyd Triplett and wife Renee of Lenoir.

[goose-books]

gracen my beloved + 🎶 OR vee + 🎶

(give me a character name + 🎶 and I'll put their playlist on shuffle and tell you the most fitting lyric of the first song I get)

gracen & vee both hail from darkling, my speculative fiction king lear retelling!

shuffling the gracenlist gave me simmer by hayley williams which is... one of Thee essential gracensongs. literally top two or three gracensongs. it's about the constant slow-burning wrath that underlines everything she does

Rage is a quiet thing You think that you’ve tamed it But it’s just lying in wait

AND, of course, the older sister role that's basically a parental role at this point because she's the only person attempting to protect her younger sisters at all

If my child needed protection From a fucker like that man I’d sooner gut him ‘Cause nothing cuts like a mother

god she is so fucking mad all the time because she's been pushing all the trauma and emotion down for most of her life. she makes me insane. we move on,

shuffling the veelist brings us... monsters by the boy least likely to!

This town is full of monsters Holding hands with other monsters And attempting to be human beings / And I don't know why It is they scare me But they do And the thing that really frightens me Is that all my friends from school Are turning into monsters

songs doubly accurate for vee because not only does he have serious paranoia (it's the undiagnosed psychotic disorder), he ALSO lives in dovermorry, where everyone is jacked up on their own overpowered magic & obscene wealth and everyone is ready to stab each other in the back at any given time! cool city. normal place

[goose-books]

iron: a darkling short [image credit] word count: 1k aka: gracen stayer gender thoughts. trigger warnings: depictions of child abuse; references to sex (not graphic); mentions of self harm

gracen has a gender! how about that!

Politically speaking, she supposes, she could say that an ugly woman is barely a woman at all. If man and woman are categories drawn in opposition to each other, if womanhood is linked to male desire, at what level of unfuckability is she excluded from either category — or whatever. That’s about as far as Gracen can take those kinds of thoughts. She isn’t made for theoretics. She’s made for pragmatism and pantsuits and whatever she can touch and whatever gets her through the day. She is a woman insofar as men feel threatened by her, by the amount of space she takes up and the amount of magic in her body and the way her smiles are never convincingly kind.

She was fourteen when Cressida came out. Which is to say, when Cressida grew her hair out overnight, a magical display impressive enough to almost overshadow the point about her gender. Gracen watched the subsequent whirl — the new wardrobe, name, pronouns; puberty blockers and a legal gender marker change — with a detached sort of recognition. It was around the time she started to take note of the way she looked at girls. There was some sort of mirroring inherent in it, she thought: Gracen, longing after the female frame; Cressida, climbing inside of it.

Still, she got the sense, just as creeping and uneasy as her gradually dawning lesbianism, that if it had been her who did it, who shed her old self like a skin, burned phoenixlike with reinvention — if it had been her their father might have felt differently. Might have been a little less militantly prepared to cut bureaucratic corners, to bull his way through the legal red tape. The trajectory of Cressida’s transition was arranged within weeks. The golden boy became the golden girl, and Leovald brooked no argument from anyone in the city. And he would not do this, both of them know, for his other two daughters, were they really his sons.

They aren’t. If Gracen were a man she’d have said so by now. Nor is she anything else. It’s not like she’s not aware there are options; Jasper Greenwood’s both, after all, and thus neither, in a way. But then again. She’s never had any interest in being anything like Jasper Greenwood. That battle she’ll leave to him, along with all his others — not battles he picked, but battles he chooses to keep fighting, about which she will not condemn or envy him.

In the end, with herself, it comes back to pragmatism. If she has no desire to be anything but a woman, if her experience of gender is limited to clashing against displeased men (and clashing in a different way against certain women), then she’s a woman. A cisgender woman, because that label’s never bothered her, either; it fits as comfortably on her shoulders as she thinks “woman” ever fits on anyone’s. If she has ever wanted to be a man, it wasn’t about being a man. It was about wanting them to take her seriously. It was about thinking Leovald might love a son.

Of course she is not the same type of woman as her sisters, but then, she is not her sisters. Cressida is soft, angelic, golden-haired, a self-made girl in old-fashioned lace; Ruby is a blade, hiding acrylic claws and a bloody-lipsticked mouth behind a shield of low-necked dresses and short-sharp skirts. Gracen respects that. Both of them. In fact she admires them for being what they are.

(She does love them. She does not say so. In some ways it’s easier if they don’t think so, because then they don’t have to read it in the constellations of bruises clouding her arms beneath her shirt.

She has no self-harm scars. However cruel it sounds, she finds the thought almost silly. The night she saw Vergil Greenwood’s sleeve ride up, saw him scratching surreptitiously at the secret he can hide from his family but not from her sharp gaze — that night she stood in a corner and chewed on the thought, and chewed on the absurdity of her surprise that that was something people actually did. Gracen has a scar on her upper arm. From being pushed stumbling backward into the edge of a desk. Another flecks her cheek just below her left eye. That one, which feels like a study in irony, is from Leovald’s wedding ring. She has no need to make her own scars. Another gift from Daddy dear.)

Gracen admires both of her sisters for being what they are. She is not them. She can’t be. To try to be Cressida would be dressing herself in sheep’s clothing. To try to be Ruby would be dressing in drag. Gracen barely looks presentable in the dark dresses Leovald requires she wear to functions. She only feels right in men’s clothes, in pants that obscure her hips and jackets that smooth her chest. She’s never wanted to cut her hair, which falls past her waist; she does not want to look like a man. She wants to look like a force to reckon with. Ugly she can wear as a shield, which makes the suits her armor.

When she fucks women she is in control. Always. In being in control she can make it breathtaking. She can twist her fingers gentle-precise-masterful as her partner’s roaming hands find her hips her breasts her silky swaths of hair — always pressing kisses to her partner’s neck chest collarbones, always strong and guiding and leading and serving and lost in it. There’s never reciprocation; she’s never on her back. Stone butch, is what they call it, and both of those words fit like her suits, fit like the bedsheets around her when afterward she sprawls out across her partner’s bed, disheveled and naked and ugly and scarred and free.

Stone butch. Iron butch, is how she thinks of herself. Iron-fisted she wields her power. Iron-fisted she’ll rule this city when Leovald is gone. Cressida is Dovermorry’s princess. Ruby would kill to be queen. She’s welcome to that. Gracen is, and always has been, her own king.

[goose-books]

stars: an excerpt from act 2 of darkling [image credit] word count: 1.3k aka: the most holiday-appropriate excerpt darkling has. by which i mean it takes place sort of near christmas & doesn’t make me feel like a crying cat image

context: this takes place about three years before canon (in the text it’s a flashback!); jasper goes to boarding school & only really comes home for the summers and for winter break. cw for misgendering a few times

Vee’s - fifteen when he gets his license; no, sixteen, seventeen maybe - no. It has to be sixteen; fifteen’s too young and Jasper isn’t Jasper yet; seventeen is when it starts to hurt, really hurt, every day. Sixteen is chess and the cane as a friend, not an enemy. And the car keys. Sixteen is the car keys.

He plans it out two weeks ahead of time, in December when his school break overlaps with Jasper coming home - pulls out his little school assignment book, notes down when Dad’s driving to work, when Dad’s working from home, when they’ll be expected to show up at some public Christmas event, what the weather forecast says. “You really think she wants to go sit in the cold and look at stars with you?” Dad says. Not like it’s an attack; more like it’s never occurred to him. Vee should correct him on the pronouns (Vee’s been practicing, even if Dad hasn’t), but he doesn’t, just tilts his head and says, “But I can have the car, right?,” gets a nod and a skeptical eye-roll in response.

He picks three days before Christmas. They leave around eight, when it’s already dark. It’s also cold. Really cold. “This is your plan?” Jasper grumbles as he flips the seat-warmer on. “To go outside? Right now?”

Vee is - Vee is feeling some regret already. He is having some second thoughts. He is shaking like a battery-powered children’s toy, even inside the car. But goddamnit, he made a plan. “Trust me,” he says, trying to tug his gloves on with his teeth so he can keep one hand on the wheel. “It’s gonna be good. Just trust me.”

Jasper arches his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. Just pulls his slush-glazed shoes up onto Dad’s nice leather upholstery.

It’s a fifteen-minute drive - out of Dovermorry proper, up the winding mountain roads at the very edges of the city. Vee spends most of it trying not to think about, and thus thinking about, how weird it is that he only sees his sibling every few months. It’s not like Jasper goes off to school and comes back a different person. No dye jobs; no piercings. He looks the same as he did when he left at the end of the summer, right down to the loose unruly curls he brushes out of his eyes. That’s what makes it so weird. Behind those bright eyes are four months spent somewhere Vee will never be, with people Vee will never meet, and sure, Vee still texts him, still reads his emails, but he barely gets any information out of that. It’s like there’s another layer of Jasper’s world, one Vee doesn’t have. Jasper told them about his new name over the summer, but Vee’s seen the comments on his Instagram posts. No one from his school has called him Circe since April.

“You have your license,” Jasper says, looking straight ahead.

“Yeah,” Vee says, swerving sharply around a branch that looms out of the road’s darkness.

Jasper looks at him sideways. “I don’t know if you should.”

“Dad says I’ll get better.” Vee ducks his head to hide his sheepish smile, but he doesn’t miss Jasper’s snicker.

The wheels whir over the road. Driving in the snow makes him nervous; up here the roads aren’t paved half as well. Still. They’re almost there.

“He’s gonna put Circe on my Christmas presents,” Jasper says, very flatly.

It’s too dark in the car to make out his face, even if Vee felt comfortable taking his eyes off the road, which he doesn’t. He feathers the brake, edges around a snowdrift encroaching on the sheer black pavement. He knows what he’s supposed to say. I’ll talk to him. (He won’t. He’s tried; he gets tongue-tied.) He just needs some time to get used to it. (He knows very well how stupid Jasper will find that.) It’s not like he’s going to lie, either. Dad is going to put Circe on Jasper’s Christmas presents.

“Well,” Vee says, biting his lip, “I won’t.”

They drive the last half mile in silence.

When they stop, they can just barely see the lights of Dovermorry glittering over the ridge. Up here, up higher in the mountains, it’s dark-dark. Real dark, not city dark. Vee unlocks the car, takes his cane with him when he steps out, comes around to the passenger side and opens Jasper’s door. Not out of gentlemanliness so much as a fear that Jasper won’t move.

He does move - albeit with a hiss of, “God, it’s cold as shit out here.” Still, when Vee’s cane slips on a patch of ice under the snow, Jasper catches his arm with ease, unpanicked, unrushed, and Vee steadies himself and smiles at him and gets a quick-flashed smile in return.

They leave the car and walk up the road, footsteps crunching crisply in the fresh snow, until they round the bend and the hills block out the last bit of city-light. Jasper’s a step behind, blowing on his hands, and Vee catches the moment when his face changes - when he looks up and sees the sky bursting with stars above them.

If there’s one advantage to living in the mountains, to standing above the rest of the world, a city closed off with its nose turned up - it’s this. The clear sky, dark and rich as paint, pinpricked with white light. The thousands on thousands on thousands of stars, like sugar spilled across dark cloth.

Up here above the city it’s like there’s nothing else. It’s like the heavens could swallow the world.

Vee stays silent as long as he can. Then, finally: “It’s crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” Jasper breathes, head tilted back, lips parted. “Oh my God.”

Vee could say more - about how he was just driving around, just trying to practice with the car, just trying to get out of the house for a little because when Dad isn’t there it’s far too large. How he found the place by accident. How he sat on the hood of the car until he lost track of time, sat back and stared at the swirling stars until his teeth chattered. How he doesn’t want to show anyone else except the two of them. How places get less lovely when everyone knows about them.

But he doesn’t need to. He thinks Jasper knows that already. Anyway, it’s enough standing here, surrounded by stars, glowing with them, reflecting them, watching Jasper stare up at the sky.

“Perseus, there,” he says after a few moments, pointing. Jasper side-steps closer, interlocks their arms. “And Aries. That line there.”

“Where?”

“Those ones.” Vee traces a line in the sky with one fingertip.

“How the hell is it a deer?”

Vee isn’t very good at judging when Jasper is joking. He ventures a sideways look. He doesn't think it’s a joke. “Come on.”

Mimicked back: “Come on.”

“It’s a ram.”

“Whatever,” Jasper says, rolling his eyes heavenward. “Sure as shit doesn’t look like a ram, either, Vee.”

“But people saw one,” Vee says, and he draws out the path with his finger, imagines connections sparking between each star. “To the point where - where we’re still seeing it. However many years after. You know?”

Jasper doesn’t say anything. But he sets his head, very lightly, on Vee’s shoulder.

They both have thick coats on; the touch doesn’t itch like it usually does. Besides, Vee’s so cold he doubts he’d feel it anyway, layers or not. So he steps a little closer, so Jasper can lean on him, and they tip their heads back and gaze up at the sky and Vee feels like he could drink the whole night, like they’re both glittering with constellations.

They stand there for five, ten, fifteen minutes - Vee doesn’t know. Just until he can’t take it anymore, until he says through chattering teeth, “You wanna go back and turn the car heater on?” and Jasper says, “Oh, my God, yes.”

He doesn’t run ahead, though. He keeps their arms linked - Jasper on one side, Vee’s cane on the other - and they scramble back as fast as Vee can, and then they turn the car on and sit in it parked and hold their hands over the heater and shiver and laugh.

[goose-books]

find the word tag game

thank you for tagging me, @yvesdot :-) all of these are coming from darkling... because what else. side note: all of these words appeared almost a hundred times so i think we have darkling as an aesthetic right here.

quiet (from act three): [alcohol tw]

“Dad had… a drinking problem,” Vee said, twisting his fingers together. “I mean - he’s fine now. But he used to drink… a lot. Too much.” Dancing around it. Like Jasper’s a child. Like Jasper hasn’t seen how Dad drinks at Guild events, anyway.

Apparently it was bad-bad after Vee’s mom died, though. Bad enough that people outside the family noticed. Whispers in the Guild say it wasn’t the first time, either. Jasper has a quiet suspicion that it first got bad around seventeen years ago, when the scandal dropped.

little (from act four):

Ruby’s scowl borders on a pout, the kind she used to give Leovald when they were cute little kids. Or, rather, when Ruby and Cressida were cute little kids, and when Gracen was just little.

soft (from the interlude):

“Cain and Abel,” they mumble, very softly, “Abel and Cain. Cain kills Abel; Cain buries Abel; Cain’s left running. If Abel crawls out of the ground and hunts him down who’s who.”

& dark (from act five)

In medieval times they thought fate was a wheel. Fortune’s wheel - turning and turning and turning. Always cycling. Always bringing you from a peak to a valley, from a loss to a win, up and down and up and down. Nauseating. Endless.

That’s the thing about circles. The endlessness. When Vee held their halo in their hands, drowning in those dark nights in the storm, when they felt the glowing edges cut into their bloody hands - they were thinking about circles. Circles and coins and ouroboroi and halos, always halos, because once you put these things in motion they just roll on and on and on -

Whatever is happening right here, right now, at the center of a storm, at the center of Dovermorry, it started rolling a long time ago.

i’m going to tag @avi-burton-writing @haldimilks @harehearts and @themillionthdraft if any of you would like! (no pressure, of course.) your words are pretty, blue, twitch, + light!

[goose-books]

florida man WIP tag game

thank you so much @alicewestwater​​ for tagging me in this KHDFKSDFSDKBFSDBSD god this was. a ride and a half. (characters from darkling!)

RULES: tag your characters as florida man news headers.

leovald

jasper

cressida

rory

vee

gracen

ruby

dany

vee, cressida, and rory

the whole book

(gonna tag @avi-burton-writing​ @guulabjamuns​ @smashwritebook​ @junedottxt​ and @maria-is-writing​ if any of you want to do this DKFHDKFBSD... no pressure!!)

[goose-books]

dump post of all my recent silly darkling doodles. + one drawing of vague quality

in order:

1. jasper and vee (though regrettably if gun to my head i had to pick a character who’s read homestuck... sorry rory)

2. constantly infuriated that this two-second doodle of small child cressida has more vibes to it than some of my purposeful drawings / doodles i made during a stressful conversation ft. the two mcs and also jasper-as-reddit-atheist (/s)

3. vee and gracen and this............. is an “edmund” joke

4. vee and leovald make friends. good for them

5. show me the difference between this and any “damn bro you got the whole squad laughing” image. i challenge you. you can’t (leovald / cressida / rory / vee / jasper, kind of.)

6. medea ex machina. might line + color this one solely to make it clear that her defining physical trait isn’t “big hair,” it’s “big hair that is also pure-white for magic reasons”

[goose-books]

darklingverse & magic

as promised! a look at the magical system in my speculative fiction loose-retelling-of-king-lear WIP, which you can find out more about here and here! this is a terribly, terribly long post, so i’m sticking most of it under a cut, but i can guarantee there are at least a few fun diagrams in there. (all character images used are from this picrew by cinnasmores!)

shoutout to waya @harehearts​ for helping me work out some of the kinks in this by asking incredibly helpful questions... waya i will untag you if you want i just wanted to appreciate your contribution. also going to tag @suits-of-woe​ because you mentioned wanting to see this!

Jasper’s dad talks about it like oil. Petroleum has to be refined before you can put it in your car. Unrefined, it’ll just as soon kill you as anything else. The natural clock ticks. A mage hits twelve, or thirteen, or fourteen. And then it’s roaring under their skin, like an electric volt, like a fever, burning in them, fighting tooth and nail to get out.

It always gets out. You pick the route. Or you don’t.

The first thing Vee ever learned was duplication. Small objects only. Jasper was crawling through stacks of post-it notes for weeks. It was like an illness: Vee would get too itchy, his magic nipping at his neck, and he’d clench his fists and then they’d have another goddamn stack of stickies. “He has to get it out somehow,” Dad had admonished Jasper, when he’d complained. “Otherwise it’ll hurt him. I do it, too. The difference is I’m useful.” And he had demonstrated by snapping his fingers and cleaning all the house’s dishes at once.

Jasper is loath to give his father props for anything. But he was, on that particular occasion, right. Within a year Vee could flick his hands and shut windows, heat leftovers, unlock doors, send laundry skittering across the floor into the hamper.

It makes sense; Vee’s an infuriatingly quick study, magically and academically. And he inherited their dad’s style of magic. Easygoing. Quiet. Unobtrusive. Less explosive, more creative. Nowadays the worst that happens when he gets hot under the collar is that he spawns another houseplant and Jasper has to brush the leaves off the kitchen table.

Because Vee followed Dad’s instructions. He annotated all of his textbooks. He mastered it early, by seventeen, because of-fucking-course he did, but he was already in control by fifteen. Everyone learns to control their magic eventually.

Most people do eventually.

— darkling, segment iv: control

okay so let’s get into this!!!

isn’t darkling a modern king lear retelling? what do you mean, “the magic system?”

great question! darkling is, in fact, a modern king lear retelling (well, very loosely; it’s my city now and i reserve the right to do what i want). it takes place entirely in and around a city called dovermorry, an extremely isolated place secluded in the mountains, surrounded by wilderness for hundreds of miles, and only reachable via a single train through the mountains. dovermorry is loosely in the american northwest, sort of, i guess. by which i mean that’s kind of where i’m picturing it, but also it’s incredibly vague and honestly i don’t really know. dovermorry is, like, you know… [gesturing] it’s around. [kicking any kind of definable map under the rug]

the plot is set in the modern day with modern technology. the magic that exists is woven into daily life alongside said modern technology, which is the primary reason i’m calling darkling speculative fiction. most people in darklingverse aren’t actually heavily affected by magic (for reasons i’ll get into but which basically boil down to “they don’t have much”); however, dovermorry as a city is mostly known for being The Place Where Mages Go. most of the families in the city have been there for a long time; they’re old money families with powerful magic who use their inheritances to study increasingly esoteric forms of magic that aren’t very helpful in praxis. this is because dovermorry is home to the large and powerful Mage’s Guild, which is in charge of setting the laws around what kind of magic can be practiced in the city and by who. if you want to study magic at a scholarly level, you’d better pay your dues to the guild, otherwise you’re gonna get the boot.

every large city has a guild, but dovermorry’s in specific is Really Big and, unusually, has more political power than the actual mayor / government of the city. partially because leovald stayer, the guild’s president, is just… ughghhebwfbefbdsbfbdsfsd. That Way. in dovermorry if you’re not getting the boot you’re licking it

“wait, slow down. what is a mage anyway?”

well, technically, anyone! everyone in darklingverse has at least a little bit of natural magic (though it might be very little) that develops during puberty/adolescence! so by its literal definition, A Person Who Does Magic, everyone is a mage. that said, in colloquial terms, the word mage has taken on a connotation that basically means… exactly the kind of people who live in dovermorry. like i just said: scholarly, probably rich, probably a little elitist. so your average working-class person is TECHNICALLY a mage, but if you asked they’d say something like, “oh, mages are those hoity-toity folks who join guilds and stuff, WE’RE just regular folks over here.”

“you keep saying magic. what are you talking about. magic is a word that means so many things”

don’t worry, in darkling it just means [gestures vaguely]. re: everyone has magic, it develops in puberty, and there aren’t really specifications - it isn’t like some folks get fire magic and others get shapeshifting magic or etc. it’s more like everyone has a certain amount of raw energy inside them that can be drawn out and funneled into different tasks/spells. some ground rules:

1. you can’t change the amount of magic you have. your magic develops naturally, and maybe you get a lot of raw energy, or maybe you only get a little, but that’s what you’re stuck with and no amount of practicing is gonna give you more.

2. that said, magic is hard to control when it first develops - and practicing WILL help you get better at controlling it. so while you’ll always have the same base amount, you’ll get faster and more efficient about concentrating it into tasks.

3. re: amount of raw energy: that shit isn’t limitless. whether you have a lot or a little, it will eventually run out and you’ll have to wait for your juice to recharge. like a battery. you are a battery. how long this recharge period takes depends on how much magic you have, how fast you used it all up (if you push your limits to do something Really Big, you’re gonna be wiped), and also just how you’re doing physically in general? if you use up all of your magic in one go and you haven’t slept in a while, you might want to, like, sit down. drink a juice box. take a nap

4. while magic isn’t limitless, you can’t just NOT use it, either. when you aren’t using your magic, that raw magical energy builds up in you. and builds up. and builds up. and it does not particularly want to be in you. it wants to be out in the world, actually, and by god your fragile human meatsack is not going to stop it. so if you don’t choose a task to funnel your magical energy into (eg, i use my built-up energy to send my socks scuttling across the floor of their own accord to get into the laundry basket), that energy will eventually decide to just come out on its own. more on this later.

5. like i said, the mage’s guild of any particular city sets the rules, but there’s generally one core rule and that’s “don’t do necromancy.” like, obviously you’re not allowed to kill someone magically, but you’re also not allowed to kill someone NONMAGICALLY, so that’s kind of a given? but necromancy is something only a few very powerful mages can do and it is a BIG no-no. don’t fuck around with death, man. people don’t come back right, but also, just, like, let them rest, all right? let the dead rest.

[image description: the “society if X” meme, showing a futuristic “ideal” society full of green landscapes, smooth silver buildings, and flying cars. the text on the top reads “society if no one did necromancy.” the text on the bottom reads “this post made by the official mage’s guild don’t do necromancy you freaks bottom text.” in the corner you can see the imgflip.com watermark that i could have erased were i less lazy.]

“so what CAN you do with magic?”

the average joe? not much. again, there aren’t specific categories of magic; there aren’t any ATLA-style bending divisions. if you and i have the same raw amount of energy, there’s no reason we can’t both learn the same spells.

that said, the average person doesn’t have a lot of magic! it is much less dramatic than i’ve made it sound. there are not big magical firefights happening marvel-movie-style on every city street. if you want to talk to your friend, you use your iphone, not some kind of distance-speaking spell (which would be hard to maintain anyway and oh my god the phone lines are right there). the average person, on a daily basis, will use their small amounts of magic to heat their coffee up, or to wipe up a mess or spill, or to clean their floor re: the socks i mentioned earlier. (while writing this post, i had to begrudgingly admit that the socks were not going to scuttle anywhere, and i was forced to pick them up with my hands, manually. tragic, i know.)

again. dovermorry is the exception to this rule. most of the people in dovermorry have a little too much money and a little too much magic and not nearly enough chill. but dovermorry has also been festering like a petri dish alone up in the mountains for decades so what can you do.

“hold on, are you telling me that people in darklingverse didn’t immediately start wielding innate magic quantities as a tool of classism? sounds fake”

regretfully i cannot retcon classism out of darklingverse as it is relevant to the plot. this is because the plot is “Incredible: This Rich White Guy Has Never Been Told No And Doesn’t Know How To Handle It Without Crytyping!”

[image description: a picrew of leovald stayer, a pale-skinned man with short blond hair and an angry-looking frown, plus tears that i drew onto him with the paint tool in paint.net. beside his head is red crytyping text reading “ii’mm sso; so..rryy i didn’t[ mme  a nit wwhy . are yu,,o suiiicdee .bai,,it,ing MMe gr;;acen im yuour da[d,,,”]

the general implicit belief across the country, but especially in highly stratified cities like dovermorry, is that upper-class people from distinguished noble families are just naturally born with more magic, and lower-class people are born with progressively less as we trip down the social ladder. is this kind of true, demographically? yeah but everyone’s got their cause-and-effect turned around. class doesn’t dictate natural magic so much as natural magic dictates class. the people on top like to be on top. and having jacked-up magic is a nice way to stay on top. so rip to the rich kids born with piddly little amounts of raw magic, because your family probably is not going to help you get places. and rip to everyone else born with piddly little amounts of magic, too, because unless you’re REALLY good at something nonmagical, you probably are not going to Strike It Big because those in power are gonna keep you down. and if you DO make it to the top you’ll be viewed as an exception that proves the rule.

there is some magic that is genuinely naturally harder to work with. the upper classes are personally really invested in making sure that kind of magic is painted as rough and lower-class. this is because it is threatening to them! and they do not want to be threatened. unless, of course, it’s them with the hard-to-handle magic. and then they’re fine with it.

“but didn’t you say everyone’s magic is basically the same?”

everyone’s magic can be wielded to do basically the same things. you can’t control how much flows through you. you CAN control where/how it gets out. and everyone’s pathways for how to let it out are basically the same (see the examples i mentioned above!). but some magic is a lot easier to control than other magic.

you can’t just not use magic, because if you don’t use it, it will use itself. it will Do Shit On Its Own. and that’s where this gets sticky.

so let’s get into that.

active vs. passive magic

now with fun diagrams!

[image description: a rainbow spectrum stretching from blue to red. the leftmost end (blue) is labeled “’passive’ magic” and “way down here you can mostly do fun party tricks.” the rightmost end (red) is labeled “’active’ magic” and “way down here you’re officially a ‘witch’ lol.”]

when i say active vs. passive magic, i should specify that this is not a strict binary! i’m about to use the terms in a sort of binary way to simplify this post down, but magic exists on a spectrum.* generally the less raw magic energy you have, the more “passive” your magic will be, but that’s not a hard and fast rule! characters vee and rory, for example, both have comparatively passive magic; however, rory’s is smaller and generally good for party tricks, illusions, and sleight of hand, while vee has more magic that he finds is really good for things like Growing Plants Really Fast and Making The Plants Do What You Want.

*i know this looks like some kind of metaphor for gender but i swear it’s not. you can trans your gender no matter WHAT your magic looks like i promise <3

i mentioned that if it builds up for too long unused, magic will Do Shit On Its Own. with passive magic, the Shit It Does is, like, accidentally growing a plant where plants shouldn’t grow, or changing your hair color when you aren’t looking. slow seeping magic that just kind of oozes out of you until you notice, “wait, shit, my hair didn’t used to be blue.” with active magic, if you don’t control it, it will Break Shit and it will not be nice about it.

active magic is - if we simplify both the magic binary and human genetics until they’re really really blurry - the dominant trait. if you made a middle school biology punnet square, active magic would be the dominant allele and passive the recessive allele. (i haven’t taken a bio class in two years no one get my ass for this analogy.) the child’s magic will take after whichever parent has more active magic. so, to illustrate that, let’s look at a normal family with a normal non-scandalous family tree. by which of course i mean the greenwoods. [canned laugh track playing in the studio]

here are ara, griffin, and medea (parents) charted by how active their magic is:

[image description: the same spectrum, now featuring three picrews of characters. ara, a dark-skinned woman with wavy black hair, freckles, and glasses, is placed leftmost, closest to the blue/passive end. griffin, a dark-skinned man with short black hair and glasses, is placed near the middle of the spectrum, slightly to the left. medea, a pale-skinned woman with spiky white hair, freckles, and gold hoop earrings, is placed rightmost, at the very edge of the red/active end.]

...and here’s how that went for them, progeny-wise:

[image description: a little family tree. ara and griffin’s child, vee, a dark-skinned person with wavy black hair, a worried look, and band-aids on his face, is labeled “quiet unobtrusive plant-based magic” in green text. medea and griffin’s child, jasper, a lighter-skinned person with spiky brown hair and freckles, is labeled “once accidentally shattered 50 champagne glasses at his dad’s birthday party” in red text.]

(yes, i know i said there aren’t any ATLA-esque magical divisions; that’s still true; vee just happens to get on really, really well with plants. much like jasper gets on really really well with entropy and causing problems on purpose.)

so the thing about “active” magic is that it’s usually more powerful, but if it’s too powerful it gets incredibly destructive. like i said earlier - if you’re part of the upper class, it shakes out fine; otherwise not so much. your choices with this kind of dangerous magic are to either fight it and keep it tamped down, or to lean completely into it and embrace your massive amounts of dangerous power. if you are rich, you can do that second thing! that’s what leovald stayer does, and he’s the president of the mage’s guild! good for him! [i say, through gritted teeth.] but if you aren’t rich, you had better try to keep that shit on lockdown, unless you want to be branded a reckless uncultured social deviant and - in most cases - a witch.

mages vs. witches

everyone with magic is a mage. only a few mages are witches. it’s like squares and rectangles, you know? you can hear gracen talk about that here in nice prose (plus baby cressida!), but the bottom line is that “witch” is shorthand for “woman* who has magic so powerful it’s unsafe, who uses it to break shit and be reckless,” and anyone with the “wrong” type of magic who doesn’t have a trust fund to back them up is getting tarred with that brush. they’re nothing like those elegant learned mages casting down benevolent laws from their ivory towers, you see.

*this isn’t a gender specific thing but usually women are the ones who get called witches because Women Should Know How To Control Themselves But Men Are Just Like That. god we love misogyny <3

tl;dr: misogyny and classism real. if you have hard-to-control magic that breaks shit then you’re destined to be a pariah UNLESS of course you’re rich and powerful and then it’s COOL that if you got too out-of-control you could collapse a building or cause a monumental storm or something. you know. cool.

[image description: the same magic spectrum. medea is still there, placed exactly where she was before. leovald’s face is also there, right above hers; in terms of magic, they are equally placed on the spectrum. leovald is labeled “runs the whole city” and medea is labeled “lives in a cave in the woods,” both in white text. there are three thinking emojis at the very top of the image.]

funny how these things work out.

in conclusion

in conclusion, if you’ve read all of this, you’re braver than the marines and have my undying love. if you’re down here for a tl;dr: magic is a natural force everyone is born with; some magic is comparatively harder to control; classism & other social structures affect the way a person’s magic is viewed (there are a lot of double standards); i really enjoy making little oc diagrams.

if you have questions, comments, etc, about this post or darkling in general, my ask box is always open! thank you for reading! [blowing you a kiss]

[goose-books]

darkling characters as posts/images i enjoy

darkling, AKA, society if dads went to therapy. (picrews of the stayer sisters from the cinnasmores picrew!)

leovald stayer:

griffin greenwood:

medea:

lorelai “rory” flowers:

danielle “dany” caldwell:

gracen stayer:

ruby stayer:

cressida stayer:

vee greenwood:

jasper greenwood:

literally every single character: