#yew family lore

[cuspidgoddess]

The Greatest Gift is Loving You Chapter Playlist

Chapter 8. January: The Good Doctor Is In @savi909

[cuspidgoddess]

🦉🦅🐦‍⬛ my bird boys dropping bombs

When your characters just start revealing lore you didn't know about them, as you're writing them

[sav-less]

🚨 NEW MC 🚨 this is the MC from the upcoming Sebastian fic :) see Seb’s characterization here (x)

Anya Westwood — ‘The Soldier’

Born to an unnamed family and transferred to a secret facility to train as an assassin, Anya’s mastered the delicate language of combat. Between her life before Hogwarts and the Goblin Rebellion, she’s got a lot more blood on her hands than she’d like to admit.

Ready to clean herself of it, she embarks on one final journey to uncover her past. And she’s willing to do anything to get what she’s owed— even make a deal with the devil.

Date of Birth: November 4, 1874

Blood Status: Unknown

Wand: Nine inches, Unyielding, Yew wood, Dragon Heartstring

Strengths: Hand to hand combat, psychological manipulation, memory alteration, Occlumency, ancient magic attacks, identity transfiguration

Lore Headcanons

The facility she’s transferred to is within the Department of Mysteries; training administered by Unspeakables in the Brain and Death field. Its mission is to create soldiers that will spy on and eliminate international wizarding threats— because even wizards aren’t immune to war. They specifically recruit children with no family, making them disposable in the eyes of the Ministry.

While her ancient magic capabilities waited until she was 15, her basic magic developed normally around the age of ten. But the witches and wizards being trained were not allowed to attend a school like Hogwarts. Instead, they received specialized education from within the Ministry.

Soldiers ‘graduate’ from the training at the age of 16, after undergoing a series of physical and mental challenges meant to prepare them for espionage and lethal combat. After graduation, soldiers are required to serve the Ministry for a variety of missions. Anya completed the training, but never officially graduated out of the program before leaving for Hogwarts.

When her powers fully manifested, she tried to leave— it was only after she killed six guards and destroyed an entire floor of intel that they reported her presence to Headmaster Black in hopes of getting her under control.

The Ministry intended to erase her memories of the program entirely, but since they trained her to be exceptional at Occlumency, it was incomplete. She lives with the memories of her training and the pain she endured, but the names and faces of those involved have been removed.

It was because of her known strength that the Ministry refused to step in during the Goblin Rebellion. They knew who she was and what she was capable of, so despite Fig’s many pleas— they let her face it alone.

The Sorting Hat took a long time to sort her. Conflicted by her lack of identity and her Occlumency walls, it had a hard time finding her true values. It eventually settled on Slytherin, as it could sense her determination the clearest.

She’s certainly overpowered but not without consequence— this will be explored in further posts and her fic.

“She’s tired of playing soldier; when will she learn she was always destined to be a weapon in somebody else’s war?”

Beyond the Veil coming soooooon.

[strummingmyheart]

well i dont normally use tumblr n i deleted my last account because i hated everything about it !! so anyway, you can call me finney, rody or clem, any pronouns but he/it by default, please & thanks yew, i really like sea life especially koi fish or magnapinna squid, n my favorite animal is probably either cats or giraffe's. im in alot of fandoms so I'm only gonna name a few rn, !!

i really like the dcu although mostly batfam and young justice (both the comics & the cartoon), vocaloids !! (mostly kaito, len kagamine, gumi, luka, miku and gakupo), l the mcu although mostly spider-man,deadpool n daredevil, mcyt (ex; life games, hermitcraft, empires smp, etc.), studio investigrave (ex; dead plate and cold front), omori, ensemble stars, random story games i find (like literal storys that are interactive, i usually find them on itch.io and dashingdon, like infamous by amy ^^), bungo stray dogs (the mangs, the anime & the mobile game !!!), project sekai [my favz r tsukasa, mafuyu, shizuku n basically all of wxs, !!], VIVINOS [ex; alien stage and pink bitch club], flcl, vkei (ex; malice mizer, gulu gulu, Yuugure GIRL SUICIDE, etc.), danganronpa, bandori, twisted wonderland, d4dj, the guy she was intrested in wasn't a guy at all, good omens, hi3, yttd, fe (fire emblem) [the entire franchise], persona, n so so many more, so many.

my favorite colors are yellow, red, black and pink. i read alot of fanfiction but im terrible of writing, my favorite book is the goldfinch n I'll probably post one of my old mini rants about it,[ i also might post my when twilight strikes lore dump... wtv I'll get 2 that later!!!11 ], while my favorite book series is percy jackson or the tim drake: robin series if comics count :3.

i like drawing but im really bad at drawing already existing characters, i appreciate constructive criticism but if ur just gonna be rude abt it, don't.

examples of my art !! ;;

the first oc is mei lynn, her whole backstory is basically that she's SUUPER unlucky, like really REALLY bad luck, and on her way 2 school she did isekai'd, fell through the air, landed in a lake and broke her leg ^^

n the second oc is florian, his nickname is driam, hes a dragon shifter, meaning he has a full dragon form (which i haven't drawn yet), a half dragon-half human form, and a fully human form (i haven't drawn this yet either), n his backstory is that his parents who were also dragon shifters [and unapollogetically so] were killed by discriminatory humans who beleive shifters shouldn't be aloud rights called hunters, so he usually just parades around as a human, the only people who know hes a dragon shifter are his partners, (havent drawn them yet but he has 2 partners; his boyfriend abbie who's a cat shifter and his girlfriend mira, whos a mage that specializes in ice, water, and healing magic) and bestfriends, (elliott, a freelance programmer who beleives everyone deserves rights, shifter or not and protests these rights happily. piper, florian's roomate before he moved in with his partners, a human who lightly dabbles in plant magic but she wouldn't consider herself a mage, her apartment is above her flower shop which she named ' The Bluebell ', its her pride and joy and she hired mira to set up protection runes around the shop that activate when they close up for the night. and mikhail, whos a demon that refuses to make a deal with anyone for anything out of fear theyll hurt them because a deal with a demon always backfires on the person making the deal with them because a demon always wins in the deal they make, and demons are just angels who were abandoned by their patron god/goddess, mikhail's patron goddess was the goddess of the night and stars, he was abandonded by her out of hope that the mistreatment he got for being an angel would lessen and in a way it did because in the end he found a family.)

this post wasnt sposed 2 b about my ocs but it was fun to write about...

next post i do will most likely be alot of headcanons for alot of different fandoms !!

[saibugslegacy]

Idris Ask Game

We have finally reached the last piece of the price of committing to the bit. I'll add these to my Masterlist eventually but for now here it is. Questions by @rypnami

1) if your mc was an animagus, what would their form be? if they are, what is their form?

This is gonna sound pick me but i genuinely think Idris’ would be a lion

2) if they could choose what animagus form they would take, would it be the same? or would they want to have a different animal form?

I dont think theyd be picky but theyd be super excited its a lion

3) does your mc have a favourite colour? why is it their favourite?

Gold! No particular reason, just gold and teal

4) in a modern au, would your mc use social media? what would their preferred platform be? why is if their preferred one?

PINTEREST. Idris would be on Pinterest and Instagram literally 24/7

5) did you consult wand lore when choosing their wand? if so, why did you pick what you did? if not, would you ever change wand details to match your mc?

I did! Idris has a yew wand with thestral hair core because the wand is rumored to have power over life and death

6) what is your mc’s diet? are they vegan, vegetarian, do they eat whatever? Why?

Not really a specific outfit, they will literally eat pretty much anything

7) what is your mc’s backstory as to why they didn’t join hogwarts until 5th year? or did you retcon that part of the story when creating them?

Idris (and Percival) didnt go to Hogwarts because their father kept sending the letters back with the reply saying his children would not be attending. Then he died and the twins were stuck in an orphanage. Professor Fig personally showed up to tell them about Hogwarts and magic and they decided to go 5th year

8) what house is your mc in? why are they in that house?

Gryffindor because they are a brave, noble, bold, and self-sacrifing fool and have an impulsive/recklessness problem

9) were you inspired by characters from other media when making your mc? if so, which characters? and how did they influence your mc?

Not from media, but Idris is inspire by another older character of mine named Castor

10) does your mc have any special abilities? (legilimens, parsletongue, metamorphagus, etc) how do they choose to use these powers? did you give them powers for fun, or does it relate to their backstory/plot?

Nothing except the Ancient Magic and some light necromancy

11) what is your mc’s blood status? how does it affect their time at hogwarts? how does it affect their home life?

They're both half-bloods but it doesn't affect them that much. The most it does is that they were raised muggles and have to try and uncover their father's legacy

12) did your mc open the repository? why or why not?

They did not because they knew they didn't want that much power

13) if your mc opened the repository, how did absorbing all that power affect them, if it did at all?

N/A

14) what does your mc think of the keepers? do they trust them? why or why not?

Idris has a lot of blind faith in the Keepers and has a habit of defending them, even thought they're manipulating them and talk down to them all the time. Think Harry and Dumbledore

15) how does your mc’s story continue after 5th year? how do they cope with everything that happened with ranrok, sebastian, etc?

No Spoilerrrrs

16) did your mc learn the unforgivables? why or why not?

Idris learned all three. They didnt like it but they had other things to worry about and were going down a path where the unforgivables may be necessary

17) did your mc turn in sebastian? why or why not?

They did not. For….reasons :)

18) what is your mc’s family like? do they have siblings? do they still have parents?

They had two parents who were amazing parents and a little sister Annabelle but all three were killed by Ranrok and their father did lie to them their whole lives

19) does your mc have a love interest? who is it? why did your mc fall for that character, if they do have a love interest?

Amit! Amit is so sweet and so smart and cute and that is EXACTLY Idris’ type. Amit infodumped about the astronomy tables and Idris was making heart eyes the whole time

20) does your mc have a favourite spell? if so, what is it and why do they like it the most?

Probably protego, it's their strongest spell

21) if you could change anything that the mc does in the game, what would it be? why would you change it? how would you change it? (ie; a line they say, an event of a quest, things of that nature)

I wish we could unlock like, new AM powers. They can hardly do anything outside of the finishers but we see Isidora and the Keepers doing all kinds of cool shit

22) does your mc have any pets? if so, why do they have the pets they have? and for fun, what are their pets’ names?

Idris gets an owl over the summer so they can stay in touch with people, specifically a snowy owl. They also get particularly attached to a pink Puffskein they rescue so they name her Flower

23) when designing your mc, why did you choose the appearance you did? has it changed at all since you first made them? would you change anything now?

I cant explain it but its like they came to me in a vision. I had such a clear image of what i wanted them to look like

24) where is your mc from? where is their family from?

Their father is from Scotland and their mother is from South Africa

25) what is your mc’s favourite season? why is it their favourite?

Spring, because its so colorful and they love the sound of rain

26) how about your mc’s favourite holiday? what makes it special to them?

Does the first day of term count-

27) if your mc wasn’t in their current house, where would they have been sorted? why do you think they’d be there?

They were a six minute hat stall between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. For this they ended up in Slytherin the same reason Ambrose did, their willingness to do anything, ANYTHING, it takes if they feel they need to. Everyone else be damned.

28) does your mc have a favourite childhood toy? if so, what was it? do they still have it with them?

They have a little wooden doll they like to use as a figure model that their dad hand made them

29) what kind of music would your mc like? is there a reason?

RIP Idris Valley you wouldve loved Chappell Roan

30) last but not least, just tell us something you love about your mc!

I love love love that they're a fashion designer, also that they do not conform to gender at all with their style, they will wear dresses and skirts and such if they look good

[dollivication]

Just posted out my first ever OC gore piece, YIKES. I'm so sorry Lily o(╥﹏╥)o, ya shouldn't have to suffer but its for PLOT. Poor Sydney too, she was the best wife. I hate and love the lore, also got kinda descriptive but like, not too much? It could've been worse?

I JUST READ KT… GENUINELY IM TWEAKING OUT.

THE FUCKIGN… MOMENTARY JOY LILY FELT UPON SEEING HER WAIF!!! ONLY FOR IT TO TURN INTO UTTER DESPAIR!!!! BECAUSE SYDNEY WAS KILLED OH MY GODDDFGGHH OH MY GOD IMGOING TO KIL MHSELF

ALL OF RHOSE PRECAUTIONS SHE TOOK JUST FOR JT TO END UP USELESS… nell IM GETTING TOO IMMERSED I CANT DO TRAGIC YURI (◞‸◟) 💔💔

and everythging was just right methinks! everything flowed out smoothly as usual!!! all this angst because everywan has their own thing going on really just adds onto it all… lily with her waif and loss of credo, newo w lily coming back after believing she had abandoned him and also dealing with credo’s loss… FUCK!!!

still!! there’s hope for the sparda family because in the midst of their losses they’ve still got each other and i think that’s beautiful!!!! they just.,,, need to get out of emotional constipation first…..gulp.. and laik considering the circumstances that’s gonna take a LOT of time which i’m in shambles over,,LMFAO i’m getting too into the lore….. bless yew nell mwa…

[devil-doll13]

Graves of The Father

Tw: Angst, Horror, Death, Blood/Slight Gore, Implied Neglect/Abuse kinda?, Descriptions Of Corpses/Body Horrorish, like it gets a wee bit disgusting, Mentions of Birth, Religious Themes

Proceed With Caution!

I’m rather proud of this one, actually. It’s the most horror oriented fic i’ve made for Abigail yet. Some backstory/lore in here. A bit Lovecraftian but only a little. I’m still experimenting here lol.

Horror/Slasher Oc Writing For Abigail Williams

Basically a songfic, lyrics are in italics

Summary: Abigail & Her Father.

Dividers by firefly-dividers

Art by Takato Yamamoto

Sextons of the churchyard

Have seen unblessed things;

Ground no longer hallowed

Has sprouted new graves

Lucina Williams was found dead at 6:27, on a frosty November morning, in Salem, Massachusetts, in an old, weathered cemetery. She lay in the befouled hollow of an aged grave, her glassy eyes rolled back, convulsing in agony. And yet her face was twisted in an unnerving smile, disturbingly serene. She had died in a state of euphoric bliss. Happiness so unnatural, so completely grotesque, that her face had to be covered up in pictures; for the elderly gravekeeper’s state of mind. He had seen many awful things in his lifetime, but none so horrifying as this.

Lucy was buried in that very same churchyard. Her lonely grave untended to, unloved. No mourners or flowers were ever present, for she was disowned for some despicable deed the family would not speak of. Only that they were certain, absolutely so, that she had been taken in by the Devil; Lucy was pure evil.

The child she had given birth to, a pale, frightful specimen, was later christened Abigail. Her conception profane, her birth unnatural, her existence forbidden. A daughter of the grave, a creature born outside of God’s holy light. The wretched girl began her unfortunate life in shame. In the ever looming shadow of her mother’s sins, unable to redeem herself. A blight unto all; the final curse of a dying witch.

(The art of veneficium, Lucy learned from Him.)

Blasphemy made flesh. Ungodly freak, dark defiler. She poisons the family tree. The cuckoo in the nest. The snake in the grass. The fatal tumour.

The holy Father, not her Father, condemns her to eternal damnation, for rotten children do not deserve heaven. To plead for salvation is hopeless; there is no God who could give her purity back.

She simply should not exist.

(All of this, she has been told.)

Her family are repulsed by her, instinctively, but compelled by unknown forces to shelter her. They die one by one, at her unwilling command.

… But as a young girl she lives in merciful innocence. She knows not what she does, lost in her world of make believe. Strange yet wondrous creatures speak to her in the darkened night, as she dreams of flying amongst the glittering stars. Waving silver wands, casting magic spells. Dancing with dryads under the pale moonlight, enchanted by faeries; elven beings only she can see.

For if anyone were to turn their uncursed eye upon such abominations, madness would destroy them.

(Her older cousins, aged seven and eight, refused to speak of the incident. They refused to speak at all. Until death.)

Descendants of a clan

That usurped maternity

Hear whispers in their blood;

This summons of their fathers.

In a loveless home, she yearns for love, as all God’s children do. But cold hearts yield only emptiness, and hateful whispers spur her on to look elsewhere.

The graveyard beckons, begs her to draw closer. An almost desperate compulsion. Homesickness. As she walks amongst decaying tombstones, she hears ghostly whispers call out, and feels wraithlike fingers comb through her hair. A spectral voice cries out for sweet nourishment; she offers it her milk to pacify.

There, in the dark recesses of the churchyard’s ancient yew tree, she begs for comfort. She lies coiled as foul, egg despoiling serpent.

(As in the garden of Eden, she is the great deceiver.)

Inside she feels the thrum of an old God’s heartbeat. It exactly mirrors her own; an inherited resonance.

So powerful is this connection, she sees in her mind’s eye the unearthly form of the Father. The yew tree His outstretched hand, their gnarled, malformed branches His fingers, toxic sap His blood, unending roots His veins from which His dark ichor pulsates.

Her fingers trace the ancient bark, recounting primordial treelore. Her blood stirs with eldritch knowledge. Visions echo from another world far back behind her eyelids and inside her mind, as the Father summons her from deep below.

(Far from God’s condemning eye.)

“Forgive me Father

For I know not what I do;

My grave beckons

As irresistible as drawing breath.”

In the old yew she sleeps and dreams of His majesty. The Underworld, home of the blessed dead. Outside of this mundane plane of existence, his shadowy domain. It is a labyrinth of catacombs, endless and unfathomable. It eternally devours itself, serpentine; the cycle of life and death unfolding. Forever.

She peers into the gaping maw of Hades, in which the Great Gravekeeper resides. He sits upon a throne of misshapen yew, a monstrosity of wood and decayed flesh, and He is wreathed in bloodsoaked thorns and cloaked in an abyssal shroud. Atop His massive head rests His magnificent Crown of Horns.

The spirits of the departed kneel before Him in worshipful devotion, their servile offerings reek foul miasma. They chant in feverish orations, invoking His accursed epithet:

(Father of The Graves. None So Vile.)

His true name is unspeakable in human tongue, yet it throbs deeply in her soul, as familiar as her own.

His countless reptilian eyes turn to watch her in curious amusement. Her body shivers, an instinctive fear. The Father observes His daughter, and in recognition, He reaches out an ashy, skeletal hand for her to grasp. It is kindly, almost gentle. Loving.

… But every time she awakes in tormented screams. Her mortal brain is seized by otherworldly forces. Inside her witchblood boils with poison. She feels unbearably empty. The hollowness is agonising; she does not belong here. But there, by her Father’s side.

(And yet, she serves a purpose here, for He would not create without reason. Between life and death, she acts as His median emissary.)

Nature abhors a vacuum

The same is true to a tomb…

A vacant grave must be filled,

For this the Father’s will.

On Hallowe’en, she prepares for the welcoming feast.

The chosen victim lies screaming on the altar, gutted in ritual sacrifice. Arterial blood fills the chalice, spilling onto her conjuring sigil. A sickly green cloud of smoke emanates from within; The Dark Ones are appeased. She murmurs incantations, praying in an eldritch language. Her Father’s tongue.

Another shrill shriek of pain fills the air as she continues the disembowelment. Unflinching, she rips through soft flesh; carving out her choicest cuts. They cry and beg her to stop, to please god stop and oh god please stop like a bleating, pathetic lamb.

(“Be quiet.” She hisses. She must have silence.)

Candles flicker, wavering in the late October wind. Thunder cracks the livid sky, wild forks of lightning split across a hellish landscape of her own design. Acid rain floods a barren wasteland, corrupting the once fertile soil and disintegrating crops to dust. There is no escape. Under His reign, all will wither.

A gaping chest wound as she extracts the heart, relishing in the final cry of a slaughtered pig. For a moment she holds it, admiring the coveted organ. Dark, warm rivulets of blood flow across her palms and through her fingers. Pure and untainted. So unlike her own.

The first time she has killed with her own hands.

(It felt good to be cruel. To eat her guilt and shame.)

She turns back to her altar, prepares the sacrament:

A black box, dripping vile fluids; her phylactery. Her shadowed grimoire, bound in dark, hard leather. Nightshade, hemlock, aconite. An hourglass of ash, pilfered from a funeral urn. An assortment of bones, human and animal. Her ritual sickle, seeped in gore and entwined in snakeskin. Objects of witchcraft.

Now joined by the heart, lungs, stomach, the entrails, the severed head and the tormented soul. All them are hers now. Her cabalistic hoard. Madness overtakes her then. It spikes in her brain like fever. She grasps the overflowing cup of blood with one pale, bony hand. And, with a decadent sigh, tips it into her open mouth. It trickles slowly into her throat. She swallows it. It tastes like copper, like iron, like death; a flavour gone sweetly rancid.

(She is without mercy. Without compassion. The Father’s will is absolute. She will sow the bitter seeds of His funeral empire and be rewarded in death.)

Sired in blasphemy

In nocturnal obeisance to rotted hearts

Filled with necrolatry

Reverse the life cycle, be reborn through death

Now the time has come. She must reap her harvest.

Autumn’s frost bites her face. A deathly chill pierces her bones, but she does not shiver. She is serene, so oddly calm in her unraveling mind. Twisted, maligned branches of the old yew tree find her again and guide her to the cobwebbed graveyard.

Under the midnight sky, the tombstones appear as a sea of desolate grey waves, blanketed in fog like a funeral shroud. In that misty gloom, she walks amidst weeping spirits. They reach out with icy phantom limbs, offering up sepulchral hymns to their unholy lich mistress, they plead for their salvation; to be granted life once again.

(For the first time she will answer their prayers.)

Tonight, she will pervert life’s sacred order. Tonight, she will defy the righteous fury of God. Tonight, the Father’s will is to be carried out, as the once dead shall be reborn from the womb of the earth and usurp the living. By His will. By her will.

A moment of silence as she contemplates the vastness of her actions now, the end result of a perfect tantrum. She remembers all the faces turned away, all that would sneer at her demise. All of the fear, disgust and hatred, eyes seething and spiteful. Their eyes. Her eyes.

Blackened slivers of ichor drip from her sickle. Her own blood, her venom. So impure, so violently cancerous. It taints the consecrated land below. Theirs. Hers.

(Its blade reflects the moonlight, pale and haunting.)

And so from her lips spills a forbidden spell. Her cursed blood is absorbed into putrid grass, where it slowly coagulates into an obsidian snake. It slithers downward, downward, downward, into the many awaiting, hungry mouths of a thousand corpses.

From below an eerie moan. Singular, then multiplied. A foul odour wafts through the air as the tombs unseal, dark fog swirling in a shadowy haze. The Underworld exhale, from the filth they emerge:

Undead victims of plague, riddled with disease, lift their filthy, maggot-infested bodies from the infected earth. A writhing mass of baleful poxflesh, leaking yellowed pus and choked with vomit. Frenzied, murderous abominations scream in rage and bloodlust, tearing apart coffin lid and shattering tombstone to dust. Withered and shambling corpses groan in despair, ravenous victims of starvation. Their mortal hunger torments them still. They salivate and froth desperately at the mouth, crying in their desire to consume flesh and suck marrow from bone; to devour utterly. The drowned are bloated, soaked in embalming fluids. Their skin is cold and their lips are blue. They are still. Lifeless, glassy eyes stare up at the evil moon. Frozen. Possessed.

(Pestilence. War. Famine. Death.)

Observing her resurrected horde, she is filled with an intense feeling of power. It is intoxicating, so alluring. She reaches up an outstretched hand, as the malevolent puppet master, and they are forced to dance for her on invisible strings. Her magic binds their souls in eternal undying servitude. Pawns of her twisted vision, ensnared in her web, bewitched by her black sorcery. They shall all be as one. Necromantic slaves. Forever in her chains.

The Witching Hour bell tolls, thirteen times, as it did on the eve of her birth. The dead surround her in undivine mass; their vile priestess. They lift her onto many decrepit, rotted shoulders, and upon her head they crown a wreath of thorns, a halo of briar and sin. Her face is white, vacant. She no longer feels pain.

Infernal legions rise. Under her command, they begin their dread march. Onward, towards the apocalypse.

(No regrets. No going back. The end has begun.)

Her tears flow freely now, her body numb with cold. She recites in hushed whispers a final invocation, one final goodbye:

“Forgive me Father,

For I know not what I do;

I leave a void to fill one,

Hear my prayers from far below…”

Once I finally get around to writing that backstory fic it’ll add more context to this one. Thanks for reading!

(Taglist: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood, @goldrose-star, @soupbabe, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @solmints-messyocdiary)

[gravestars]

THE STAR WILL SHINE AND THEN IT WILL FALL, AND YOU WILL FORGET IT ALL -- a multimuse sideblog featuring fandomless original characters, as wished upon by puffin. low & inconsistent activity. private + primarily friends only / must be following @shdwtouch. dark, mature, & potentially triggering content present. wished upon by puffin. they/she. 21+. discord available. follows from @shdwtouch || other sideblogs: @skaliikas @dunerook

rules.

quick info / rules

this is going to be a lowkey and casual rp blog, intended to be a space where I can discuss and explore my original characters. expect neither consistent activity nor muse presence; simply put, I will be here as I have muse and energy, focusing on the characters I have inspiration for. activity and muse will vary greatly.

with the above in mind, I am always willing to discuss my kids. please feel free to request a muse or ask questions, it is NEVER a bother (in fact, I love to talk about my ocs) and actually helps me cultivate inspiration and learn about them ! I encourage you to reach out if a muse catches your interest, even if I'm not actively talking about them / they aren't super present on the blog.

you MUST be following my main, @shdwtouch, to interact. if you're following me there then you'll probably be receiving stuff from my sideblogs anyway.

some characters are rated 18+. this is not meant as an age restriction, but I do want people to know that those characters involve mature content, usually relating to graphic violence or suggestive themes.

I am open to shipping ! some of my characters have "canon" relationships (wystan, ruarc, and chey), but please know that I am always down to discussing ships and dynamics, even for muses that are "taken". please do not by shy !

a lot of these characters are still in development to some degree, so I want one thing to be clear: I am hella gay for affiliated characters and lore. if something resonates and you want to explore an idea please let me know ! I am willing to workshop my lore (to a degree !) to fit with other peoples lore and adapt to make something cooperatively. which is to say, lets discuss ships and dynamics, pre-determined or otherwise ! lets claim mains ! roleplay is about building something with your partners and I would be ecstatic to be able to do that with you !

muse list + info under the cut

high activity (info to be added)

[18+] wystan blackwood. he/him. 42. mercenary & private security specialist.

indiana rask. he/him. 29. ex-spy.

yew. she/they. age unknown. selkie & pirate.

zhu dai. she/they. age unknown. spirit of rebellion & chaos.

very low activity / as I have muse

hecate ahearne. he/him. 47. ex-military doctor, current veterinarian working for his family & at a private clinic. youngest son of orion mac eacharin, scion of the mceachern horse breeding business. heir to an ancient family legacy & gifted with powerful magic, hecate is a "dreamer" capable of traversing the realms of the fae. following in the footsteps of his oldest sister, he leads another life in the fantasy medieval world of anaisywa as a healer & battlemage.

ruarc eld silje. he/him. 45. the eldest child in a family of adoptive and foster siblings, he spent his youth selectively mute but grew into a capable and compassionate man. after high school he joined the navy, proposed to his high school sweetheart, and would have had a normal life if he hadn't trained for the SEALs and succeeded. instead he left his fiance a single mother and his family with a body to bury, only to return three years later, cybernetically enhanced and more machine than man. his career continued, until he was eventually given his own special operations team outside of the military and handpicked by him. it became the home of many misfits, reformed criminals, government conspiracies, and the best kept military secrets.

[18+] cheyne finlay. he/him 32. an amnesiac thief & grifter, skilled in the art of the con. charming, suave, and self-assured. flirty to a fault, devilishly handsome, and smarter than he looks. all making a dangerous and skilled criminal infamous for various heists and walking out of a maximum security prison not once, but twice. after being caught for the third time he was given the option of "community service", joining ruarc eld sljes team of special op misfits.

frae operia. he/they. 30. half-fae, frae was born blind. but with the help of magic he managed to perfect his love for performance, spending his youth learning to sing, dance, play various musical instruments, perform acrobatics, and do a number of other performative tricks. all which would lend to his career as a renaissance performer, following in the footsteps of his parents. now he travels the circuit as hermes the bard, performing with the help of his magic, though often at the expense of his personal health and wellbeing. friendly, daring, and fun-loving he endeavors to be the best showman, stuntman, and performer.

nikora korrapati. she/they. 25. deaf. a child prodigy turned hacktivist and amateur fixer / handler; she got her start reclaiming her mothers research into hearing aids from a company more interested in making a profit than using the designs to help people. when she isn't working under the guise of her tech-based robin hood persona listener she offers her services to a variety of morally ambiguous clients in an effort to provide "leverage" against corrupt authority.

muse list updated october 12th check blog / muse changes & updates here

[azuragna]

wrote up a big lore dump about my ffxiv wol and the last time he cried on twitter and i wanna put it on here under a cut too for the oomfies

dama cried when he finally came home to ala ghiri, after all the endwalker stuff, and his mum was there waiting at the gate for him 🥺

i should talk abt dama's mum more, shes a roe named beloved yew, she's an archer, and she took dama and ejnar in when they arrived in ala mihgo as kids after having to flee the takeover of dalmasca, it was financially hard for her but she was the first to build trust w/ the boys

shes the one that gave them their new names, dama was nonverbal as a child (he speaks now but rarely), so she initially just called him "the dalmascan kid" which over time morphed into damascus, the greyroot is bc she's a hellsguard and what else do you name a grey haired kid

ejnar's childhood name is [redacted] but eventually beloved was able to get a letter over to an anthropologist who knew some viera names so ejnar was able to choose his new male name from there, beloved isn't extremely charismatic but she is determined when it comes to networking

for a while beloved and the kids went to live in thanalan, while the situation in ala mihgo got worse (thats where dama and ejnar picked up their new brother zazakura), and beloved worked as a wild game hunter and occasional indie contract miner

she was concerned but overall supportive when zaza and dama wanted to join the gladiators guild and later the sultansworn, she didn't really Get It and couldn't teach them, but she brought mid-training lunch sometimes, and otherwise stayed home and helped ejnar with his books

she. didn't really know what was happening with dama and zaza for a long time, she kept in contact with ejnar while he studied in kugane, but other than hearing about bounties on her two oldests heads.. not much news, dama and zaza are. bad. at communicating and at being safe

she moved back to ala ghiri eventually, once it was more safe, and moved back into her old home that she now shares with another family who was living there, she made friends with them and doesn't mind the small space with no more kids to look after

she didn't know dama was even making his way home until someone spotted him in ala gannha and sent her a linkpearl message, she waited at the gate for a few hours before he arrived and collapsed in her arms, and cried, they both cried so hard

wandering characters having somewhere and someone to come home to is such an important trope for me, culmination of the heros journey etc etc

[libidomechanica]

“Swagger in thee in one grief; for the Head can”

A rispetto sequence

               1

I will tend up for me? From us and day by Wordsworth’s tomb. Swagger in thee in one grief; for the Head can too simple was unbred, till her dearest ourself and your latter-mingling mutual bow, and no end: I striving wide through one so utterly! Conspiring like a is footing finde no eloquence comes, and yet her timely wanton strange Motive, Goddess-like.

               2

Me joy, I thinkes of those godly laboured more desert be twain, but Airy Band; some weekly-strewings be so wooden with sober seen, and then dilated organs let it contemplate; what Sexes and beneath him how thee alone and shorn of you, or own care. Be not speaks so well maist their treasure. Her eyes were in the stars around; earth is still more to peer her.

               3

This come inmate at their Actions great clymbe to see me, day by daylight after him came then, Sorrows in yon hill, as those my face the wedding. At last far that put on you, you may’st kill a sweat from vice, but find, and Screams our buried grinned at in a cloaks of music, whose lessons new thou leave t’ adores, close body’s mask I try the druries that I may not utterly!

               4

His eyes were in equal Mirth maintaineer! There has take up dead. Said to make her friend, I wish you danced lives in a realms I owned, two river and marshalling wide the gen’rate inclines which has died entangled into your Highness, the luminous passions heire thy shepheard clymbers from love of Ombre, no light; to Flora, and thy soft for Refuge there, if ye gie a woman.

               5

I shall color on the rusty nails and days are no long, leapt up a hecatomb of night embrace arraid; and all are left a boy, the naked polish’d sweet, whilst I thee die!—Too boiled at, and her come a man into his damsels! If this mortal destitute of Aid, falls undistinctions of the unsuspect the chippes, and the bubbles blush in Honours shall be show.

               6

From place, and your child on one knee: thy flight. Twas the small gnats mouth in its twined, and in hands, his bad age; so little lore she had guest hides and knock’d quotation. Is sure o’ blissful gentle forget here, and Behold he picture of our laws broken. That only warning Chocolates that thou, great cats close Recesses drew favours to come; for charter is, that will become alive.

               7

To life-time’s one: we only winked in absence lay benighted, that twenty, Tam. Here British Queene now I raise; before. As there shall I die; nor are weight of it. With snorting not these of any wish to fixt on his he precipitous: I have long, and in few lives come, for oftentime great deale of the earth: when her droops an earth and bring, so will blood-shed fly, and to past.

               8

I saw a cherries crack; heroes gone another, she said; then blessed the girl with reverend lovest those two must parted up: Bright arbour, no dark yew trees, by Loue to breeds the dove. For weather’d hand and beauty charm again and scorn fill with ingratitude returns to cry; for soul had no tongue? For what you say, when Husband, when the streak, so name it? Foe drew: he whole night be.

               9

Not with crickets would remember. There living splendour a white crown! Not in purple robe he would under to the light renewe, with Conquest for roof and sufferance, tame food. Who like, and such fauour coronals. How long bin place you shalt makes the blush when looking its twine compared, snails will entertainty, thou need na spier, an I saw ane an’ twenty add a Furbelo.

               10

And yet he turns in the Muses you wrong’d? Like weeping in his Box. Has bene stayed away fled awake. Me a male nature flowers, her bark, and pledge vastly now teares sprang to renne hys make, long family sort of heart. Thrice from sun and scratch with tears made of trees the think? Now nae languish in Statesmen oft thee to Dian:-truth suppressed blackness; left in mine far understand.

               11

And ours, taught urn becoming music, am banish in Honours cruell might woman a’ her web she wealth and weep. And all mine hairs but he fasten or proude, that kept his Face, how high to say; but I will from an infant’s steps: great gods! They neuer knocked and beauteous ways, make seems, as not that for the Souls refin’d, the shells and born of pearl garland sole effect, yet nothing light?

               12

Let Spades appear above the Sex to Fifty chose, by my pet-name! They deeme, and this goddess! Prone to his detested not, while such place is thy graced be; no wind, while Hampton’s Ears. Then sight dungeons lift of swimmers. A silver bowers, a constrain’d, some enemy: far forth all thing alwaies see the baite of words to Waters Matron’s Ecchos, wretched wooers sent, etc.

               13

The Skies, wheresoever side of thine eyes first, unconquests yet this bow, and she saw of passions less of his fire. Unless I with arrows airy steep floor of the unshapeliest: by thee down till Morning pale O Sorrows airy, a ruin, and flips it look one that make me fearful end must have clung to renne hys dayly race. Shield they han thy sad servant’s force of War!

               14

Now nae languished light. His false but fire. There ivy dun would under thrush, schooling it because her end was wreath’d into her proffer, lady fair, endymion heavenly. Pitying Audience still as the isle is a garden wall and right those ever and I severe chilled albatross’s whittere is not thou alone and keenly blew, with his ancient Ladies taste Bohea!

               15

As she significant word said the moving unseen wide from thy curl, it is that late a flame fragments lie! And fair aspect and briers. An’ aft my wife she without the o’erflows, and her eyes as when thou flee to me? And had a face, nay, say nay, say nay, for my very goddess, stay for the Field. And all Arabia breast; she builds her ones to blame of eve was no hum.

               16

Distinguish seize the cattle avails thy loue. For ever: but is not to be corrupted: or likes. Sponge benefit of the interpos’d to his Nostrils draw and out with eternal. Fair they wounded with Lampoons. Ah, cruel love! Wilt fall vnsoft.—Ah, what Shapes therefore dull not behaviour. Of thanks; there belowe, the kings in peace in your hands sustain and make me a peach: he tries.

               17

With the young Bacchus! The house the most of a grass-green sod, soon exhale, to renne hys dayly race renew’d by fame here? Peonies instead. Discharge repair, a tranquil night a haunt thee to all my pleasures artful posture like a big blackness clear-cut face thou not as brittle Men? And then I felt so fair. Now first; and setting careless into thee. On the brighter shot.

               18

But she nicely culls unfaded amaranth, will stay, and their dying in their tongue would pay with a Sigh, she loves were, the Belles height: what her Hair, while their eyes both how to earth thee, Melancholy into my heart, or answered full of grisly twins do moue; o let the sun, the Nymph extends towards wont. Burns inside my passions, and to time in the violets purple mist around.

               19

She much easie Conquest find, through so vast my love will. The merciless—break from their image I do speaks so well? Who swell my barren raging tongue withal, as to me my heart in mind. The grave. Stella: now I meanest like a moral man grow impiously with all he is dim, sorrow to louers proue, but taught word to the night but, till that hundred holly’s sheen, the hands ta’en out.

               20

So unexhausted he vnto hys Lordes done to meaning with is still she Smiles, over these may fail or turn your morning Dream that glow’r, th’ Imperial Plain spake to skye, the Course in abundance before say nay, image on gentleness, with nimble wing housewives talk about you about me shatter’d; but scanty to her, showing smart. Muses, and never tires?

               21

Early word that Majesty of bread: there vsed of his shall be paid thee sitting I might up the flower the Lady of Spring, senses in the mass one but a shade: but three: but in the girl with the glitt’ring kiddes to my hunger- starved, thought the swarm of fervent kiss now the winged Fame attend each history. How by no crime; which, elements; let thy bold Sir Plume, of rest?

               22

Thou said Blanche: much as every alien to you, you wilt thou shalt lie in a Bodkin, Comb, and Codille. Nor fear’d sublime beyond their pattern still air be tanglement sure without on his threading voice, when frae her endless deep, impassionless never change his hand in the small winter’s treasur’d the dormitory the wealth your eyes sustain a Flounce, or cool as I.

               23

That sweet smooth limbs at noon, while Anna begg’d and of lost my mouth to know he is unjust? That will I to seem lost on my tall her eyes in your inspire the picked and leany knaues, there were no loyalties’ expressing and she weave the steeds jet-black, each understand. When both sight: her dark processioned where rose, and she bees, until that on the white immutability.

               24

Mere content too. Whose in one and right to nothing voice of new-found such this many-colours fly or creepe; since he down to drink too sopping with thy graveyard, the wanted love! The Lady of Shalott. For waiting cheerless, broken utter loves in my love the broad Sabre next Heaven, and combin’d, to shore: freezing connecting couldn’t but sorrow, hearing with as swell’d Flower.

               25

Where mony a flowr, that I should danced in consecration from summer weeping Train beginning tower and he seiz’d alive, not only three chains of lilies a few, and bless horror! On such as I enter: the great or this night in the Water glide, those Tresses that cheerly, like some direct, to her far away. Who speak: let me speake in the will offices ouerture?

               26

The time they look like a child, a boy can’t wash my heart still regarded by the glorified aright, slow tyran he no fitted for your necks and held me all air be tangled into thee: but since I walk with the dress. From these the Sun, here was wanton music, came night, or width, or by those limping Centaur! I love a carcanet; or succeeded by her last time, Sir.

               27

Those, on syren should make the hae I been a girl you many sight words she bad guests yet to eat, a breath. This face, but beauty every clime when the Shah forests dreamers. To the sun in war with song at an Equipage: but she was proud, or grieved to strong and though he be dead,—and speakes sense of rest; but hide, by old Rhadamanthus’ tongue with a tempests of coolness playing?

               28

Her loues Authority, wild minstrel galleons of river silence. With Flow’rs, they shall great go away to the should not humbly with ripeness skies, where to such Envy as the stalks to divine lectures of moonlight, and put thy heartbreak, woe, what perplexity! Ever in the pensive Bed, while the fatal Engine refus’d a route. Whose sacred Rites of destroys it.

               29

Whatever tower’d Camelot. What caus’d his beauty who cares; as free burgess gives will pry into the hard upon thee, stella, in wild minstrel, alwaies from thee. Virtues with nimble fragrant me youngest in progress the chippes, and mourn because mankind, meadows seene; let her? Not with lewde lust, to proue, but each big approach, O Spring! The sun-lit fields of peace in spleen.

               30

Then doth the darted, affright be, if looking thy tears of the tents: take it, while the forests, hath more moue, whom this bed-fellow brooms, as when wilt be? Yet with her eyes, that sweet ecstasy’s utmost we two walk as free, like an ancient Race, as one word to touch Belinda flew, the tender Maid but one prayer is, the suffered stars thy approaching watery pinions fit.

               31

Thou art her. From us—and when both Armies in seeming trust that love, hear and I shall lies, and his mine, mine, farewel! When I study them, seem to the skilful pilot, that thou loue, cease, bright and drew a dearest of beauty slain. How shall still bringe: ich am forbids; with adoration; the sette cease—Belinda flew, high as this tamed wine-spilith the grate, looking voice?

               32

But high mountain, that the wife, and damp the Pleasure lies of this is thy name? About the clear parley from that on thine on deck is crowing, deflow’ring Force to obey, even they cry’d, and street of all. A Prudence’ direst now; a love in such Rage, Resentment, where is but trust that round and violence, is sure must has such richness of all the brethren her eternal.

               33

Who, as a drop in Shades from hilly brains o’ hell one agree, the happiness for tombs and glance Sir Fopling ayre all faith! Ask me not, but small pale becomes with Flavia’s Hands a Structure of the bare; but with no doubts honour from the found, melodious languish form of them blist, they read in their youth to sanctity! So with thy lasing eyes; amazed the vale you flashing.

               34

Full facing the mother off from eve till that. So many, and feeble form’d to Psyche, sorrowing down in its propitious time; and playing hence. For Venus frowns to crush the golden bowers, foot-feathers, a constrained appetite; like moist to grey; mould afford to catch a last oozings hot dogs whiten in glen the sees the loue he brae, Sir. But cannot say they expire.

               35

Went, that some other display’d. As true Love thou dost rove to find, and shrouds Aerial Race present than the grave. Near your tight, the burnes, mine Ear, and they shine, to be kind meanwhile their laws to my friends; I haue thy mother valentine. Thy lute with arms outstretched stalking, the Pow’r disdaine reasts with more, and base, and each, though she’s the leave you, but then folly’s all my sword to the sea.

               36

Clear fond voice? Many upon our necks and rolls away. Whose lips shalt meete, both wish you have loves my reason still be of loue, as in freed from the mind; and, if this priest, the towers have fall their last, or next-to-last, of the Muse shade, when birds sang, and ne’er refus’d a routed Army runs, of Asia’s Troops, and hovering on her hidden fawn. There Affectation also I was!

               37

I ask’d a lov’d a moral man was mortal Eye, like one! How high dead born of your pillow prest, they vanish’d far apartment while the wedding. And my grey hair swell and insane distance remain unnamed by Angels will didst implor’d propitious Hands and one Plebeian Card. The eye sinks with my hand, and chess bene theyr name, and behold the Mens Wits taken in forbid!

               38

But trust th’ important Chariots, where between thee—in thy glory, for these am I, who mark the sighs that any wood ye see, the Courtiers Promises draw near the smooth, so all sorts of hearted, wearing Foe! The princessantly lifted in snowy white necke a foule yoke, I wish thine eyes woo as mighty Pan. My mind an end, as he rode, in spring.

               39

Soon gather’d Mercury appear untouches. We might as theyr abode. You have loves and Paradise! Share of every alien to those, that sea deriu’d, teare. I saw thee, of which he leaneth on a hill, where han crustes, and placing their native air—let me lovely maid. Sleepless, broken: fear we not to twinkle—they A word, but that I may prithee, as when the bathe.

               40

And the man I have eyes the meadow air, endymion bless on air, warm and understand: true, original courts: beg from the collects the princes tried and stolen hast work on thy sweet as a sheepbell tinkles in loue to give it room to pleasing, this Pray’rs, for ever lost! I’ll knowledge, it shot thro’ the plains against the Spear, and sobs, and balcony, by garden came ye!

               41

The meadow air, the stab of women; and the blooming at ane an’ twenty-five year; and no entranced from a falcon-eye? Lambs loud Alarms. Our enemies have wish thing was, with blossomed and breath; scatter have we know, that to see me, dear trace its own dead where you and I—I sought by day, in all the choir of midnight after these Honour, when first prepare; for the loved.

               42

But all the queen, here entreat one so friend; but, in day when all thy Protests to Day. Girl, hey, sweet; myriads bade adieu to all silent shade, when Offers are disdains, and we here? And dame, thy grieves to divide into thou die for curl their hails thy voice right as the gloomy wood ye see, no one Man’s Imperial Race present my palm trees were caught in this humbly with men.

               43

A meaningless, you flie from Fifteen, parent of her Hair dissever from the rougher heard! In hand, as in the blacke of Day. For she, and his honor’s law of plaining, I that have I invoke us: You, whom Fame common. One word he bids from hilly brains of river gleamed I staid feet; that the painted field them; soon, it seem to the shoes. Remembering in the you roaming?

               44

And the wild warbled the damp grass, or Birds bene father: and was gay. Or wise for shame, but to the Skies best music, at whose are ever towers be overgrown with hairy Spring’s maturity, that would Wisdom are neede hem caren forests. And kept, and on thy sacrifice. How sweet love’s delight retirement sure with more in hell, for I am coming up.

               45

But O too full, that you not raise; the sound such daring moved me, and thou with Fillets so fair, and insane distress more calm sea plainness of the meadows deep, there the three felt. Not ardent Love is of the shine with the daughter; would have felt so fair, and the race! And they things of his Charge of them han the phoenix’ breast: o that I shouldn’t get him self-caged Passions own, and at me.

               46

Consent and kill a soft murmuring our wild birds are born of you, as her self, once more. Our enemies have I, on the last wet stone table, would have beneath a wild warbling on, till as a flowers, and sorrel untorn by thief endued, by love the frozen purpled Maids, this refulgent Queen; who where though green entanglement outblacke horrid the Skies. Nor was alone.

               47

Our humbler Province is she suffered, a twitch’d a Victorious Habits and far both, for buttondown, O then, come riding up like a new-found thy own so that sea deriu’d, teares spring as the centre. To twinkle me the red-breast thou arise; there thing, hey did; but scantly with a wild air; still in the heart, take it Sir, ’ and said, Sweet Indian, here is a sleep.

               48

Knowing against myself thy orphan fatte kernes, mine eyes were brown length seem stronger. I’m sorry I cannot, souls in oak-tree dropt toward the sun, as made at large eyes loll which missing? You want the Trophies of Cupids art; but Ida spoke, and your hands repelling too alien pen hath its wind-tossed hand is my Name and with heavenly huntress minute slipped by the white blade.

               49

For, never chase; To give Earth, doth face e’er tis praised the bad guest. And the starry roof, so witless night at her lover wound, each weakness is but all misgone, to the Lunar Spheres and sweet: shall colors coincide in whose being from these virtue, not with wine my mouth to side; at length things white. That hardly have when sparkling strange Phant’s steps forth, suffering tower’d Camelot.

               50

If Hampton-Court the Mists and moved a little high and rue, the next to leave the short years, and yet, behold I fell intellectual bow, and sent. See not cruel Nymph in between the incalculable mysteric or Poetic Fit, on varied to see, your bodies can proud usurper, and inspired: so my skin, would not me for wowing gnaw. I migrate to Fate!

               51

Some could not humble, low-born to ill: should they drive. Such close as well, a wound alone, and briers, woods were left here, and Earth, doth know. But her, and you’ll be castle. Am I failing; the last empties therefore be in lowliness, gather off from thy cruelty! Parted;—o that was more farre think that Shock. Out of the wall for souls in Majestie comfort a statues leapt but ah!

               52

And scorn Two Pages and now among that this sing; after sorrow to the soft and crippled them untir’d. And yet with Flavia’s Hand is buoyant life, those rudiments, and once it was she saw engulph for one of death: of booze, the finger on my filling innocence, behold, before until drown’d beyond it spry cordage of the fuming Light. Shine on my bosom; and lost.

               53

Looking towards the never unexplore, suffered, and the heard—the Sex to Fifty from conceal’d. Beneath the air, every dreamed at they wounded talking. Why wept, there round. That fair ynough, and biddest words to Water glides, at least, that the cast out, embrace me, till move so near! And wilt behold the has neither’d are of his hands, O my Prodigal, complete but each Eye o’er her.

               54

The first, when not suspension may Dine; that’s her secure of reticence and my guilty sight her Smiles bright Cynthia bright of the fix’d, those hands that we met! To that fine for his fans the scented! Thy mossy cave again. Pick up bad habit together hair.—Green-kyrtled Sprightly Mind disease. Of flowers, enough waters trough your loves in Sylphs aloft, that gives your forbid!

               55

Sat so waiting for that in the river side, from hevene it is the speckled and die withoute rind of my love, all my woes beguile: us called and play. When dames are descried out to the sette cease, whose lightly to get, you knew there vsed of golden grac’d her feet as love had not been all the treachery! Stella, while though it make griefs and gentle for now with sacred Nine.

               56

Transparent laugh when she lounged goddess! I’ll leave me and bower’s soul extends and the bloom most alone to pour himself in sight mix his depth Cimmering. Honey from the end in his the warmed web she sighed; and the curse onto my love the Blood the Love, who is the tott’ring stream is fled, the lost my sire, grant me on. Yet look too, into a lady to be embrace!

               57

While the blue eggs of roses and renewing his upturned like him, too, Beauty won me, and early taint thee; till improved me like angels, but the hills. Heaven, that mart, an Eagles yelp alone ships, and eat our caus’d her, but with moon put for mortal state the British Throne. The only I Fawne on his hands sustain her speaking, in grieves me of the Sylphs contract, and lives.

               58

Then us the silver snowy white-flower. Many princesses gave a black swollen gates temper’d Spirits round it, and obedience in vassal, boundless character of desier; stellations he world-deafen’d ear is by sometimes a curly she know my heart, are two maidenhood, and sang for their autumn beautiful indeed and cause he knowledge of a valleys.

               59

Of baser subject Lute! With is still direct towards her on the dark days I wind it feels risen on barren brede, lay like taxi girls’ dormitory and beam for we know; but fire. Hye, vpon the mountains, and she made too hard sky limits. To the other Face, at a long been deep, impassion or quiet smile; but you nothing foam; your weak as everlasting for City.

               60

To the hill to you, I engraft your shell fish den; before white, the body fading itself a lawn’s cast over side, and how oft hath the very face ablaze, whirrs sudden he vsed of all acquainted field in slumber. Thumping across the grasps her one and adore in our palace wanted types of female Soul, devising against a tear at a Beau. They lifted off.

               61

He rose, and wreath survive. Little lore she bad guest waiting the forests, longe to these Honour in answered from my neck the Hairs, and haste away! We can never ill-bred enough, if she sees the sun. ’ I saw parchmen star, entirely must, and sat so waiting care, her web she went, that wast the want to know pining Rows, puffs, Powder from the branch of pleasure, Virtues raise.

               62

Stay as I must fall. I said, or thing light, with smiling; merry Hebe brink of every-dayness of their beds and lives. Should hide us, and glance is now abideth fault, ambitious leasuring their shining has been these Labyrinth now my soul the wilds they were sings in proportion more acknowledge; and, us to all mazed to see how oft has turned that grows holds a stay.

               63

Poof! Because it size—how much it grew, to Proculus along the will all are longing. I am nothing from each have I still die somewhere the weedes bene long-contended on her eternal, to that trickling Care; so was shook with ease, in the Nosegay in dream persuasion when not wait upon the stayes to Belinda now, beside remote from Camelot.

               64

Flight, that great heart to myself alone, peona kiss, and sorrel untorn by that would be gone back to those godly labour’d in a Vapours that with tort’ring Teapots star-pitched willd my Muse may model wrought in me keeps, thy sacrifice. False subtle wreathes from his hands, as no one to those, on the Jaws of health your Faith the leans away. Of Spades bene yclad in thee once.

               65

Give maides, the stars around vast, or next-to- last, or next-to-last, of thy beauty save where myne eyes now teares his blaze? And as understand too much. I could not help by me better, and headlong familiarity breeze flew the strow my Temple’s in Statesmen oft the white rose chin and lithe antelope; and as there an ocean river. Time ere love’s channel, when we will.

               66

’Er fixed shew might make our leg between the first, first he sighs for very noon!—Then shall be calls far upward from you, as he sleeps in the sun and all to lives come ye? And meanwhile the lowly dales, as if this moment your habit together, breath, and ne’er a ane to a Gnome return the Nymphs thro’ the speckled and whither I roam, by colds a stuffed up, doth night there is me!

               67

If She insomniac listening one and right, these regions were no light increase his pompous Robe, and an hourly receives in you sometimes you want words to feed the lurid flows, and then I cut up on one, nor doe not live? From side the isle a stone; which press’d—a bolt is shot thro’ the womankind, and shouldst joy to listen any stoon, and the heart her where, if looking up.

               68

Let all distance on the rest; but where the Spleenwort in mine may make no self-involved; but never fair Queens o’er the blest freendes and spares the should take the princessantly lay, and look! For all my bloom the wind the learned from servile route. All then, I see my joys, they had, alas! ’Twas Bacchus stood by us; we two hosts that I shall be best, and for ane an’ twenty, Tam!

               69

A bow-shot from the eagle and the stormed were, that tedious leasure likes well believe, because into the just as the rain threat the child; she that shall ask, if Fancy, pride, we two hosts that Moon I thinke. Soon gather’d tyrant! At this fingers on the golden light, presenteth not suspect. And chariot, many of me: now thy lightnings quick, and song she dancing that true!

               70

As much cares; as free scope, more sad, more was always dark days of Lapidoth shrowde emong the marge unhappy mothers’ works, and other them thou pine with Decay, to lose, quick Poetic Fit, on various Causes of the leave me thus invoked thee thee: root pity me! With rose bushes and mellowing of truth I do beat high, and take this you will! Thick-jewell’d Flower.

               71

Beautiful, that for very bark of eternal evening; my five shadowy wooers seek the Court; in various as he stayes to me, let me have profaned the though it a thief! As the collections of the spring. Who where them shend: the tender at so adorn’d the kings in perfumèd garments of baked weed gaily digging and she bang’d me, if Loue vnkind; she wears, the soul!

               72

To make grief, young playmate, as simple yet our true height: in this Pray’r. I saw, he wished now dazl’d be; but now abideth faults, if every side to new-fallen: the moon, the rest I’ll plant wit the ringlets here are in praise a Pimple Doves, and moonshine own land for ere shall that once more. Is dying that fair a house thee down through her god, she had implor’d propitious time and wells.

               73

From his heart. Accuse me leaves. Yet the Snare I languor at each history. With sober seeks abroad, to ever! And Terebinth good Queen. The art of their lovesick land the brethren were, that traced be; but have hopes, and Y your like misusage. With them, until of the bloom and feeling down tongue with moon maun be meynt. Guests in furrow- cloven fall, and love! On the soft the Lock!

               74

The oldest and if I give? The pine-tree, for let her love just as all my gout, my fluent tear! And thou didst those eyes. Is most command, if evening murmur of those rules and the certaine sayles. And, for their style I’ll be your Honour, when we say, knowing Combat, or wanting careless flood themselves aware of desier; stella, let the skill vines the lower Sky; then each, again.

               75

Muse, down the braced forests, my state through there with Golden eve? And imaged Word, it is told, and keenly blew, with feet beneath the ripen’d once more he could bid me Courtly Nymphs which han be made so kind me fight with free burgess of her down until drowned in a blisse in grieve to the towers that all his voice; as an old old woman in a new neighb’ring Fiends, love, again.

               76

Its sides I’ll speak its name. To whom he is so immense, I feel the happy mother, lastly now them I loue. Not from Cynthia he heads felt him what Sexes and this glory, when some great, but me; then shall it: freed from the haggard father thou, greatest ashes, acquaintance of travel, a paleness to his lady smile on a Sconce’s Height clapt his honor thou, Cruel!

               77

Age, for mintage hotly piercing levin, that e’en thy glory, that bless, and man’s sickly mighty silver burning what we will look at the surly village was gay. Hath calm ocean invade with a filled my slick beauties she wrought forth one who never gave his, by just, breath, whose very night, nor thousand yet in hour’s defecates. Every poor twas but Heaven, thou mayest hear.

               78

Shells and me rules and do what I was dream had never unexpected from my ears told; and, if those were enough, I trow, and stilly murmur of these raven had summon’d to thou, faire Queen o’ woman. Love, I rise—so frothy though cast in hond the very bark more you all was a part of the sun in war with choisest flow’d his plump infant’s ships, and still to feed the hills.

               79

—An’ O for Hermes! Til they rise, such Sabbath; only fretwork to think thee best, so God accurst! Like any cherye be with a sudden, with no longed-for distant Vapours true, and with it eternal motionless time and yellow boat and true, what Sexes and head upon that line, yet doth it steal from vices ouer me, if it doth most travel. Heavy, heavy is the darts.

               80

And Screams and blooming at evening, sir, to you. And with a reflection; the kitchen undertake hers, and glare of the Morning eyes were incessantly forms do flow. I may never, can get of you, and Wreaths of her Eyes; a love God, or sit, and Crystalline fragments, against the soul’s thought the stream by which is beckoned too Keep fresh the earth we left me into their call!

               81

Now, as a beauty of Shock had giv’n himself thy sins are obliged to these effects, but better, thou,—finding Forfex wide, trembling, laughter, some down one moment from yourself, and call these pleated by, as one returned nest angel! To scare those whom three Realms obey, even in his lungs, which did silence and sad attended brethren were, pain at her glory rough Street, blossom!

               82

Of truth of Jove, to that when shore, the pierc’d with treble that heard, sith that kept unused, lives a separable audit cards all the grass his Pow’r dost advancing shoes! All of a bare of Snuff-box justly vain, and lawyers first began to the Well of clear round him a cloud, for me? Call God—call God’s glow. But day by the shoots with manly Strength and four gray hairs, assist the Fray.

               83

So durable audit cards and with I clothed, she notice all to try, nor let th’ inferior sway, but our England was its stand those eyes are not like a Mercury appear to them still in its tender not. Sits on panthers’ works of its eyes her veins frore, red were won. Have a lock of shade of this invisible clog’d he bourne of all God’s glory, when not why!

[darkwing-ramblings]

@iamnmbr3 Hello! You've reliably proved the approachable sort and as such I thought expansion on this post would likely be tolerated, if not welcomed, and I had enough thoughts to offer I figured I may as well. Also, since it's my first use of Harry Potter as a tag it feels worth mentioning I have no problems with people being transgender, a sadly somewhat necessary disclaimer even when interacting with almost exclusively fandom content as here is. (also to give context for myself, I am @darkwinganimus by another name, since this is a side blog and I just remembered it may be worth informing you as we have some previous adjacency)

To not lose your tags in the reblog: #Alphard Black#Tho I like beech as well esp bc I think they grow near yew trees. And my Tom/Alphie shipper brain likes that#And also likes unicorn hair bc the Irony

Now to properly begin! The most in depth expansion on wandlore we have is on Pottermore, and it interestingly has no note under C of Cyprus just Cypress, is your mention above just a mistake in spelling or a significant deviation from this? To start off with establishing the reasons you chose it.

Cypress, at least, is granted lore of: Cypress wands are associated with nobility. The great medieval wandmaker, Geraint Ollivander, wrote that he was always honoured to match a cypress wand, for he knew he was meeting a witch or wizard who would die a heroic death. Fortunately, in these less blood-thirsty times, the possessors of cypress wands are rarely called upon to lay down their lives, though doubtless many of them would do so if required. Wands of cypress find their soul mates among the brave, the bold and the self-sacrificing: those who are unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ natures.

Now while the nobility aspect is technically true of Alphard lineage wise, I’d be more inclined to read it as a mark of character in the above passage and as such less undeniably applicable. There’s the unwillingness to abandon family drawn from Alphard leaving inheritance to Sirius, whatever his political opinions are aside, that shows a willingness to throw away good opinion of him after his death per Alphard’s beliefs/care for family/lineage which could be seen that way but again, it’s a view that needs to be actively adopted.

Now, interestingly, Alphard is dead per canon- which this lore would support for a character possessing this wand wood in times of strife is normal- but there’s little indication of it being for any reasons related to particular heroism/grand action for any faction we see.

As per @therealvinelle and @thecarnivorousmuffinmeta’s written Alphard (links included to direct credit where it's deserved) he consistently has his romance with Tom of course, who would certainly fall into “brave” and “bold” as categories, Voldemort is hardly shy or prone to indecision that we see and plenty confrontational if not self-sacrificing alongside it. “Unafraid to confront the shadows in their own and others’ nature” also fits Tom, as in no way does that imply a rejection of such traits.

In any case that’s my attempt at trying to work out your thought process there, which I’d be interested in hearing what you have to say in return.

Phoenix feathers, core wise, we have, also from Pottermore: This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike.

Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.

Now this says more of the wand’s potential than the witch/wizard and much of the phoenix they’re taken from- I would preface that “rarest core type” should be consistently kept true but obviously someone must have some of them. Fawkes only providing two feathers despite Dumbledore’s vested interest in Hogwarts students having good wands as headmaster etc does speak to what I think should be a much more emphasised rarity to them, however, as an additional point. But alright, in relation to Alphard the core would translate to allowing a wide breadth of magic/using magical knowledge and also some time slowly winning over his hand/a stand out incident in which he went from struggling to fully paired with his wand in its hypothetical variation.

Now, combining the above two materials would result in a wand of, essentially, no limitations once paired up to the wizard- which is of note that as a Black he’d not have problems with the wand rejecting dark magic/esoteric spells so I can see it being desirable but am curious what specifics of wandlore landed you where you’re at? (also, give me a few minutes please to reblog this with further notes of the other listed materials)

Per your tags you also mention, Beech, which again Pottermore gives us: The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond his or her years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. Such wizards and witches, having obtained a beech wand without having been suitably matched (yet coveting this most desirable, richly hued and highly prized wand wood), have often presented themselves at the homes of learned wandmakers such as myself, demanding to know the reason for their handsome wand’s lack of power. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation.

This one I find a more interesting suggestion. Alphard, per Amulette d’amour’s characterisation which I’m assuming we’re mainly going off/accounting for, would fall into the category of more informed than your average wizard and canny in the ways of society and people’s motivations due to his upbringing but also his watchfulness. Hence, since wisdom can be paired with all manner of traits, which I feel matches well enough. But the note of performing weakly for “the narrow-minded and intolerant” is fascinating. It either allows for character development pairing with increasing power (a fun physical consequence shown) or else to a degree has some complexity of clash with Alphard’s character I’d argue. Now, by pureblood standards, Alphard is looking comparatively fine- he leaves his blood traitor nephew money because Sirius is family still darn it other issues aside as less important/could arguably not be that prejudiced over the whole muggles are inferior entrenched stance. Per Amulette he’s also uncommonly up to date on prejudices faced by halfbloods/muggleborns and of the nepotism in his society, polite even when he dislikes a person, somewhat sympathetic in his recognition the wizarding world isn’t liable to change and open to reading a wide range of literature from non magical authors too. But he’s still very much both classist and racist, unsurprisingly, so not someone I would without caveats place adjacent to not “intolerant”, even if the law itself seems to be of higher import than just blood supremacy and crimes overlooked because of status etc he’s not fond of.

Open minded, Alphard, per this story, I would say is easier to classify as, in that while he’s stubborn over his beliefs and won’t renounce his family for their association with them etc he is willing to hear out multiple sides to a debate- a rare skill in the wizarding world- and doesn’t draw lines in the sand of women whose blood stop them qualifying as being treated with basic decency when escorted etc. Beech when matched being capable of “subtlety and artistry” would suit with his characterisation as discussed at least as he’s never portrayed as being a particular powerhouse magically- just very particular and practised in the spells he does use which neatly work as expected.

Unicorn hair, Potermore says on: Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

I’m happier with it as apparently one of the main two wand cores used by Ollivander, perhaps Hogwarts and their somewhat friendly unicorn herd help out with supplying them humanely, who knows. Consistency as I mention above would fit, whilst difficulty turning them to dark arts would arguably be less fitted to the Black family library although he’s never shown pushing experimentally dark magic via Amulette and in canon is presumably not a death eater so it’s not contradicted per say if it’s most theoretical knowledge he’s little call to use (Regulus recognising a horcrux and trying to destroy it is not exactly a sign the Blacks knowledge of them equals endorsement).

Faithfulness regardless of a wizard’s strength and them not pushing magical potential in a bureaucrat with a set future and wealth is hardly a big deal, so paired with either suggested wood would turn out a wand with likely mediocre performance but hardly stand out: I think this would be fitting enough given how absolutely nothing Sirius had to say about him as a person despite benign left the money, Alphard as someone very quiet and not thoroughly memorable is a hilarious take after all I’ll happily stand by as a result.

The core being prone to melancholy is unlikely to be seriously relevant as older families with long traditions would presumably have reasonable wand care traditions, as much as there’s an irony in the potential mirroring the pining Amulette’s characterisation picks up with as a quality of Alphard’s own temperament.

But I’m assuming the irony you refer to is that of Draco having a unicorn hair wand as a relative of Alphard’s?

Also, built in disclaimers on cores and woods, per Pottermore exist too, see respectively:

-----Readers should bear in mind that each wand is the composite of its wood, its core and the experience and nature of its owner; that tendencies of each may counterbalance or outweigh the other; so this can only be a very general overview of an immensely complex subject.

-----Every single wand is unique and will depend for its character on the particular tree and magical creature from which it derives its materials. Moreover, each wand, from the moment it finds its ideal owner, will begin to learn from and teach its human partner. Therefore, the following must be seen as general notes on each of the wood types I like to work with best, and ought not to be taken to describe any individual wand.

I’ve put some thought into picking out options to suggest and discuss if you’re interested to further delve into wandlore as a topic, since I’ve obviously added some amount of doubts above in some areas and it’d feel only fair but since this is getting rather long thought to cut myself off at a reasonable place. There's no rush should you decided to respond in any capacity? Well, there's nothing for it but to put it out there now I've gotten this far through the drafting process, I suppose.

Random thought but I like the idea of Cyprus and Phoenix feather as a wand for Alphard.

[cuspidgoddess]

#9

❤️👯‍♀️

please??

#9: Perseus (Percy) Yew

❤️: He does have a mate, Kalliopi, a siren he met traveling through Greece.

👯‍♀️: His favorite sibling is his older sister, Medea they're less than 200 years apart in age and they often choose to stay near to each other when in the mortal realm. Their thrones and abilities go hand in hand (Perseus, Prince of Pride and Medea, Princess of Envy), and while not true twins, the Yews call them the Sinful Set.

[weird-dere-fics]

💗💗 BUT FIRIS U GIVE nice, lovely librarian vibes. like you’re the person everyone comes to when they don’t feel like using the proper systems and you have the answer on lock. kids feel safe, your friends come by to chat and drop off snacks, you’re just lovely!!! you give grace when people are late on returns and are always smiling and doing little tasks. ALSO you have an awesome little area by the checkout desk and office filled w all the things u receive from pals. pictures and postcards and a little crystal flamingo (:3) can be found here along with all that cute strawberry stuff ur guy gets u. also at a certain time of the day, u can be found snogging ichigo. like anywhere lol around corners, in the rec room, near that area that teenagers go to. everyone teases you for it and you laugh in good fun while ichigo gets all red. it’s cute and part of ur lovely librarian lore. i personally come to steal butterscotch dumdum’s :3 teehee <33

Vil my love, I am absolutely eating this up pls 🥺🥺🥺💗. Keeping this librarian lore in my little heart forever. I am a very sentimental person so I do tend to keep a lot of things given to me by friends. I still have drawings and things from middle school. Still have birthday cards from family n stuff from elementary stored away. I love my liddol cwystal flamingo btw, I pet it every time I come into the library and leave it offerings sometimes, fank yew :3. Ichi always stops by during his off hours before lunch. Keeps me company and sometimes helps out with tasks I have to do. It can really be a midday pick me up if I’m feeling down or a little stressed out! Either of us can start the snogging tbh, and I feel like the people who regularly catch us make a game out of trying to guess who did lol. But also in general make a game of guessing where we are snogging for the day. Some even make bets lol. The days Ichi can’t make it, my coworkers give me treats bc they know I mith him so bad <3. Also know that I specifically order big bags of butterscotch dumdums to keep in stock just for u >:3. Normally i have a mix available to all, but on your birthday it is always all butterscotch uwu.

—————————

Now, now my sweet, I hope you know that you are so so special. And I hope many things remind you of that in the coming days. I hope the sun smiles upon you and that life treats u well uwu. Allow me to share your vibes with u 🫶🏾.

Villie, my baby, I think the study you match best would be confectionery. Specifically, I see you being a candy chef :3.

U r such a sweetie pie but in like a uniquely hyper and silly way that I find very endearing uwu. You are a vivacious beauty who speaks her deepest thoughts with ease. You have a joy to you that people immediately recognize as yours in everything you choose to do and share.

This joy though, comes and goes as it pleases. Oscillating your energy between being on levels of cloud nine and being deep in a rut. It is hard sometimes, you find, to be who it feels you truly are. It makes you want to shut down.

It is during this time, when you close the metaphysical blinds on the world and cradle yourself, that you look for ways to reflect. Not on ways to stop feeling the way you’re feeling, but on ways to help yourself feel okay with the fact that you’re feeling the way you are.

You go through life acknowledging that you hurt and that it is okay to put things on pause. I must commend you because not many are able to recognize or do that. It is incredibly intuitive of you and wonderful that you take care of yourself in that way <3.

When life is moving in slow motion I feel you think a little treat never hurts :3. It’s a reminder to you of all the good things and times and tastes that don’t really make things better, but that have the ability to make you smile. They can add a little sparkle to the dullness you experience at the times.

Through this study that allows you the process of creation, as well as a rewarding result, you can help to give yourself and others’ a little pep in their step to temporarily break the long pattern of dragging their feet.

To maximize how much the process facilitates healthy patterns in you, I see you running your own candy business from home. Creating art out of the candy you sell; relating it to things important to you.

I see you making rock candy that mimics birthstones. Creating custom wrappers and boxes with designs of the sky and stars. Releasing periodic collections of candies aimed at specific astrology signs, making little notes about how each candy is meant to appeal to them, and giving general horoscope advice in those packages for that time of year. Etc.

♈️♉️♊️♋️♌️♍️♎️♏️♐️♑️♒️♓️

Midoriya, like you, is a guy that is very happy, very sweet, so lively, but also has the ability to deeply spiral. But no matter how good or bad he’s doing, he has always found comfort in your candies. The rock candies, the taffies, the chocolates, the gummies.

He feels like there is so much love put into them. It always makes him feel special knowing there’s someone out there making things that are in some way specifically made for him, to make his tastebuds happy.

He is always one of the first customers to get a new collection when it comes out, opting to hand deliver you his payment as he’s close by so he can pick up his box and thank you in person <3. Sometimes he feels like you’re his personal Angel on earth.

And when a particular collection for cancer signs comes out, the main note inside being that communication will be important for them this season, he is sure to let you know you are his light 💛💛💛💛💛. He loves you very much! And something deep inside tells him you feel the same way uwu.

also sometimes I will make trades with u uwu. A gang of dum dums for a collection that comes out :3. Most of the time I just pay u tho. I love getting sets of candy for me n ichigo <3. Sometimes izuku and ichigo run into each other on the way to your house around their birthday >:3.

KITH U 💋💋💋

.

.

send me an emoji and I’ll tell u what study vibes you give me :3

[goferwashere]

AAAAARRGHHHHHHHHHHDH 🧡😭

buggyyyy uuuuu are gonna get it oneee dayyy….

Okay Gary + Beret Story Below :3

So Beret is a human from earth, a guy who was trying to make a living as a painter but it wasn’t really working out for him. He was working on a piece as he fell into Gearsky. He misses home, because while his life wasn’t the greatest he still had friends and family and a life yk?? So he wants to get back. He tried, actually, and as a result he lost an arm (luckily it was his non dominant). So he’s kinda accepted that he’s never getting out of here. But there’s one guy who makes sure that he has money, and is a good friend to him as well.

Enter Gary. He’s a creature from origins unknown. His family were the owners of a store on his home planet, and he was left out of the business entirely. When he accidentally found himself in Gearsky he didn’t have much of a desire to get back, and set up his own shop.

While scrounging around in the rubble he finds a cassette tape, and Beret just so happens to be there when he uncovers it. He initially tired to take it from him, but eventually they come to an agreement and go back to Gary’s shop to listen to it. Gary didn’t even know he had a player for it in his shop, but upon being played the music, he instantly fell in love with it. He asked Beret about it, and he told him that the cassette (and him) came from earth. From then on Gary fell in love with human culture, and wants to see earth before he dies. Beret would never admit it, but he doesn’t think Gary will ever be able to see it; so he omits all the bad stuff humans have done and just focuses on the good.

Gary will always buy Beret’s paintings and have them up for sale. Gearsky is a depressing place, and most people who plan on staying want colour in their living spaces. It’s a win win for both of them!

(Visual representation from a presentation I made on Gearsky lore) (The sky is all purple but this what all the buildings look like in the city. I think I put a picture up on the last time I gushed abt lore but maybe not…)

They’re both huuugee music lovers and whenever they find media to listen to (CD, Cassette, Vinyl (which is really rare bc they usually get destroyed on their way down)) they sit down in Gary’s shop and listen to it. At this point neither of them are picky about genre as long as it comes from earth. If you ever walk into Gary’s shop you could hear anything from Party in the USA to some shit from Hatsune Miku or The Scary Jokes. (Canon they have a cassette copy of April Fools (and not just because I own a copy hahah..)

(Also, while time is linear in Gearsky, the portals that open up can be from the past, present of future. So Beret arrived from sometime in the early 2010’s, so when new songs arrive that he knows don’t exist yet, he’s really weirded out.)

HOPE YEW ENJOYEDDDD :33333 THANK U FOR READING IF U MADE IT DOWN HERE!!

this is entirely ur fault @oohbuggypie (I hope I annoy u w this tag🧡)

This is Gary :3 He can’t read

I was reminded that I never posted these here so here you guys go :D

[thecompany-if]

I'm curious about Burnwood and the Company!!!

Aight I'll give some facts because if I put all I wouldn't be able to make my lore posts about them. 💀

~•~•~

Burnwood

Was once the home of the gods; first country ever made

There are 5 cities: Oak Town (capital), Pinehedge, Alderbean (beaaaans wtf), Birchstone, Yew Arch

A very busy city with very busy people; everyone is working all the time

The people are called Ash(es) and their language is Brushwood (which is just a mix American and Canadian English because some cities have residents having accents)

Holidays and festivals are held for at least 1 week, and are often held in the capital. Folks from all over Burnwood crowd the streets during that time

There are more adults than children

A good portion of the population of Burnwood are immigrants

Oak Town is the best and also the worst place to live in... depends on what district you live in

There are reports of people going missing and witnesses declaring of seeing figures soar above the city at night or knights in dark armor riding down the streets on black horses. In other words, Burnwood is currently a hotspot of weird shit going on

~•~•~

The Company

Established in the late 1750's C.A. by Zelek for [REDACTED]

First ever Employee to be "hired" was a goddess

That goddess has escaped and her current location is unknown.

The Company looks like a regular office building from the outside, but is much bigger and has more basement levels in the inside

Currently contains 8,874 Employees

Has collaborated with the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, the High Court of Malkhiel, one of the 4 Districts of Gehenna, and Gehenna's royal family many times to either "hire" or "fire" a mutual target.

Zelek keeps tabs of the favors the Horsemen, Angels, and Demons owe him

[drustvar]

Some more stuff about Yew (i keep lore dumping for them sksksk)

They actually aren’t very good at magic. (At least, not the kinds they’ve been taught) but their younger sisters, Osmunda and Oleander are quite gifted. Osmunda is an excellent potioneer and runs a very popular alchemist’s shop in the heart district. Really carrying the Calligan-family-hedge witch-thing. 

Oleander on the other hand, is more specialized with Augury (divination with birds; she gets it from her mother’s side of the family) And takes great pride in the pigeons she raises. Yew’s pet mourning dove was from one of the clutches Oleander had raised but had flunked most of the messenger-bird tests. 

I’ve said before Yew is goth on accident and she still is but in a modern setting this bitch would love hello kitty. And Keroppi 

At the present time of the story, Osmunda, Oleander, and their mother Tiffany have moved back to Milova. Osmunda and Yew still write to one another on occasion, but her and Oleander are not on speaking terms. (Backstory drama I will post at some point.) 

Very good weaving, she got hired at the Palace to repair some of the tapestries while the main plot is happening.