i'm not crazy i'm just a little unwell

pottermore wand information.

unspeakingly — Sun, 25 Sep 2011 02:20:50 GMT

THIS IS FOR DDD, EVERYONE MOVE ALONG although if you want to use it, go ahead????? haha, this is the official Pottermore information for wands - woods, cores and length/flexibility. there is a shitload of information about wood here, sob.

WOOD TYPE
Acacia

A very unusual wand wood, which I have found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and I keep only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as 'bangs-and-smells' magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Alder

Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards.

Apple

Applewood wands are not made in great numbers. They are powerful and best suited to an owner of high aims and ideals, as this wood mixes poorly with Dark magic. It is said that the possessor of an apple wand will be well-loved and long-lived, and I have often noticed that customers of great personal charm find their perfect match in an applewood wand. An unusual ability to converse with other magical beings in their native tongues is often found among apple wand owners, who include the celebrated author of Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs, Dylan Marwood.

Ash

The ash wand cleaves to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, because it will lose power and skill. This tendency is extreme if the core is of unicorn. Old superstitions regarding wands rarely bear close examination, but I find that the old rhyme regarding rowan, chestnut, ash and hazel wands (rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans) contains a small nugget of truth. Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands are not, in my experience, lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. However, the brash or over-confident witch or wizard, who often insists on trying wands of this prestigious wood, will be disappointed by its effects. The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant.

Aspen

Wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries.

Beech

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.

Blackthorn

Blackthorn, which is a very unusual wand wood, has the reputation, in my view well-merited, of being best suited to a warrior. This does not necessarily mean that its owner practises the Dark Arts (although it is undeniable that those who do so will enjoy the blackthorn wand’s prodigious power); one finds blackthorn wands among the Aurors as well as among the denizens of Azkaban. It is a curious feature of the blackthorn bush, which sports wicked thorns, that it produces its sweetest berries after the hardest frosts, and the wands made from this wood appear to need to pass through danger or hardship with their owners to become truly bonded. Given this condition, the blackthorn wand will become as loyal and faithful a servant as one could wish.

Black Walnut

Less common than the standard walnut wand, that of black walnut seeks a master of good instincts and powerful insight. Black walnut is a very handsome wood, but not the easiest to master. It has one pronounced quirk, which is that it is abnormally attuned to inner conflict, and loses power dramatically if its possessor practises any form of self-deception. If the witch or wizard is unable or unwilling to be honest with themselves or others, the wand often fails to perform adequately and must be matched with a new owner if it is to regain its former prowess. Paired with a sincere, self-aware owner, however, it becomes one of the most loyal and impressive wands of all, with a particular flair in all kinds of charmwork.

Cedar

Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them.

Cherry

This very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.

Chestnut

This is a most curious, multi-faceted wood, which varies greatly in its character depending on the wand core, and takes a great deal of colour from the personality that possesses it. The wand of chestnut is attracted to witches and wizards who are skilled tamers of magical beasts, those who possess great gifts in Herbology, and those who are natural fliers. However, when paired with dragon heartstring, it may find its best match among those who are overfond of luxury and material things, and less scrupulous than they should be about how they are obtained. Conversely, three successive heads of the Wizengamot have possessed chestnut and unicorn wands, for this combination shows a predilection for those concerned with all manner of justice.

Cypress

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.

Dogwood

Dogwood is one of my own personal favourites, and I have found that matching a dogwood wand with its ideal owner is always entertaining. Dogwood wands are quirky and mischievous; they have playful natures and insist upon partners who can provide them with scope for excitement and fun. It would be quite wrong, however, to deduce from this that dogwood wands are not capable of serious magic when called upon to do so; they have been known to perform outstanding spells under difficult conditions, and when paired with a suitably clever and ingenious witch or wizard, can produce dazzling enchantments. An interesting foible of many dogwood wands is that they refuse to perform non-verbal spells and they are often rather noisy.

Ebony

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Elder

The rarest wand wood of all, and reputed to be deeply unlucky, the elder wand is trickier to master than any other. It contains powerful magic, but scorns to remain with any owner who is not the superior of his or her company; it takes a remarkable wizard to keep the elder wand for any length of time. The old superstition, ‘wand of elder, never prosper,’ has its basis in this fear of the wand, but in fact, the superstition is baseless, and those foolish wandmakers who refuse to work with elder do so more because they doubt they will be able to sell their products than from fear of working with this wood. The truth is that only a highly unusual person will find their perfect match in elder, and on the rare occasion when such a pairing occurs, I take it as certain that the witch or wizard in question is marked out for a special destiny. An additional fact that I have unearthed during my long years of study is that the owners of elder wands almost always feel a powerful affinity with those chosen by rowan.

Elm

The unfounded belief that only pure-bloods can produce magic from elm wands was undoubtedly started by some elm wand owner seeking to prove his own blood credentials, for I have known perfect matches of elm wands who are Muggle-borns. The truth is that elm wands prefer owners with presence, magical dexterity and a certain native dignity. Of all wand woods, elm, in my experience, produces the fewest accidents, the least foolish errors, and the most elegant charms and spells; these are sophisticated wands, capable of highly advanced magic in the right hands (which, again, makes it highly desirable to those who espouse the pure-blood philosophy).

English Oak

A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure. The oak tree is called King of the Forest from the winter solstice up until the summer solstice, and its wood should only be collected during that time (holly becomes King as the days begin to shorten again, and so holly should only be gathered as the year wanes. This divide is believed to be the origin of the old superstition, “when his wand’s oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly,” a superstition that I have found baseless). It is said that Merlin’s wand was of English oak (though his grave has never been found, so this cannot be proven).

Fir

My august grandfather, Gerbold Octavius Ollivander, always called wands of this wood ‘the survivor’s wand,’ because he had sold it to three wizards who subsequently passed through mortal peril unscathed. There is no doubt that this wood, coming as it does from the most resilient of trees, produces wands that demand staying power and strength of purpose in their true owners, and that they are poor tools in the hands of the changeable and indecisive. Fir wands are particularly suited to Transfiguration, and favour owners of focused, strong-minded and, occasionally, intimidating demeanour.

Hawthorn

The wandmaker Gregorovitch wrote that hawthorn ‘makes a strange, contradictory wand, as full of paradoxes as the tree that gave it birth, whose leaves and blossoms heal, and yet whose cut branches smell of death.’ While I disagree with many of Gregorovitch’s conclusions, we concur about hawthorn wands, which are complex and intriguing in their natures, just like the owners who best suit them. Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but they are also adept at curses, and I have generally observed that the hawthorn wand seems most at home with a conflicted nature, or with a witch or wizard passing through a period of turmoil. Hawthorn is not easy to master, however, and I would only ever consider placing a hawthorn wand in the hands of a witch or wizard of proven talent, or the consequences might be dangerous. Hawthorn wands have a notable peculiarity: their spells can, when badly handled, backfire.

Hazel

A sensitive wand, hazel often reflects its owner’s emotional state, and works best for a master who understands and can manage their own feelings. Others should be very careful handling a hazel wand if its owner has recently lost their temper, or suffered a serious disappointment, because the wand will absorb such energy and discharge it unpredictably. The positive aspect of a hazel wand more than makes up for such minor discomforts, however, for it is capable of outstanding magic in the hands of the skillful, and is so devoted to its owner that it often ‘wilts’ (which is to say, it expels all its magic and refuses to perform, often necessitating the extraction of the core and its insertion into another casing, if the wand is still required) at the end of its master’s life (if the core is unicorn hair, however, there is no hope; the wand will almost certainly have ‘died’). Hazel wands also have the unique ability to detect water underground, and will emit silvery, tear-shaped puffs of smoke if passing over concealed springs and wells.

Holly

Holly is one of the rarer kinds of wand woods; traditionally considered protective, it works most happily for those who may need help overcoming a tendency to anger and impetuosity. At the same time, holly wands often choose owners who are engaged in some dangerous and often spiritual quest. Holly is one of those woods that varies most dramatically in performance depending on the wand core, and it is a notoriously difficult wood to team with phoenix feather, as the wood's volatility conflicts strangely with the phoenix's detachment. In the unusual event of such a pairing finding its ideal match, however, nothing and nobody should stand in their way.

Hornbeam

My own wand is made of hornbeam, and so it is with all due modesty that I state that hornbeam selects for its life mate the talented witch or wizard with a single, pure passion, which some might call obsession (though I prefer the term ‘vision’), which will almost always be realised. Hornbeam wands adapt more quickly than almost any other to their owner’s style of magic, and will become so personalised, so quickly, that other people will find them extremely difficult to use even for the most simple of spells. Hornbeam wands likewise absorb their owner’s code of honour, whatever that might be, and will refuse to perform acts - whether for good or ill - that do not tally with their master’s principles. A particularly fine-tuned and sentient wand.

Larch

Strong, durable and warm in colour, larch has long been valued as an attractive and powerful wand wood. Its reputation for instilling courage and confidence in the user has ensured that demand has always outstripped supply. This much sought-after wand is, however, hard to please in the matter of ideal owners, and trickier to handle than many imagine. I find that it always creates wands of hidden talents and unexpected effects, which likewise describes the master who deserves it. It is often the case that the witch or wizard who belongs to the larch wand may never realise the full extent of their considerable talents until paired with it, but that they will then make an exceptional match.

Laurel

It is said that a laurel wand cannot perform a dishonourable act, although in the quest for glory (a not uncommon goal for those best suited to these wands), I have known laurel wands perform powerful and sometimes lethal magic. Laurel wands are sometimes called fickle, but this is unfair. The laurel wand seems unable to tolerate laziness in a possessor, and it is in such conditions that it is most easily and willingly won away. Otherwise, it will cleave happily to its first match forever, and indeed has the unusual and engaging attribute of issuing a spontaneous lightning strike if another witch or wizard attempts to steal it.

Maple

I have often found that those chosen by maple wands are by nature travellers and explorers; they are not stay-at-home wands, and prefer ambition in their witch or wizard, otherwise their magic grows heavy and lacklustre. Fresh challenges and regular changes of scene cause this wand to literally shine, burnishing itself as it grows, with its partner, in ability and status. This is a beautiful and desirable wood, and wand quality maple has been among the most costly for centuries. Possession of a maple wand has long been a mark of status, because of its reputation as the wand of high achievers.

Pear

This golden-toned wood produces wands of splendid magical powers, which give of their best in the hands of the warm-hearted, the generous and the wise. Possessors of pear wands are, in my experience, usually popular and well-respected. I do not know of a single instance where a pear wand has been discovered in the possession of a Dark witch or wizard. Pear wands are among the most resilient, and I have often observed that they may still present a remarkable appearance of newness, even after many years of hard use.

Pine

The straight-grained pine wand always chooses an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives, and I can confirm this in as much as I have never personally known the master of a pine wand to die young. The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic.

Poplar

“If you seek integrity, search first among the poplars,” was a great maxim of my grandfather, Gerbold Ollivander, and my own experience of poplar wands and their owners tallies exactly with his. Here is a wand to rely upon, of consistency, strength and uniform power, always happiest when working with a witch or wizard of clear moral vision. There is a tired old joke among lesser wandmakers that no poplar wand has ever chosen a politician, but here they show their lamentable ignorance: two of the Ministry’s most accomplished Ministers for Magic, Eldritch Diggory and Evangeline Orpington, were the possessors of fine, Ollivander-made poplar wands.

Red Oak

You will often hear the ignorant say that red oak is an infallible sign of its owner’s hot temper. In fact, the true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect duelling wand. Less common than English oak, I have found that its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive, trademark spells, and a good man or woman to have beside one in a fight. Red oak wands are, in my opinion, among the most handsome.

Redwood

Wand-quality redwood is in short supply, yet constant demand, due to its reputation for bringing good fortune to its owner. As is usually the case with wandlore, the general populace have the truth back to front: redwood wands are not themselves lucky, but are strongly attracted to witches and wizards who already possess the admirable ability to fall on their feet, to make the right choice, to snatch advantage from catastrophe. The combination of such a witch or wizard with a redwood wand is always intriguing, and I generally expect to hear of exciting exploits when I send this special pairing out from my workshop.

Rowan

Rowan wood has always been much-favoured for wands, because it is reputed to be more protective than any other, and in my experience renders all manner of defensive charms especially strong and difficult to break. It is commonly stated that no Dark witch or wizard ever owned a rowan wand, and I cannot recall a single instance where one of my own rowan wands has gone on to do evil in the world. Rowan is most happily placed with the clear-headed and the pure-hearted, but this reputation for virtue ought not to fool anyone - these wands are the equal of any, often the better, and frequently out-perform others in duels.

Silver lime

This unusual and highly attractive wand wood was greatly in vogue in the nineteenth century. Demand outstripped supply, and unscrupulous wandmakers dyed substandard woods in an effort to fool purchasers into believing that they had purchased silver lime. The reasons for these wands’ desirability lay not only in their unusually handsome appearance, but also because they had a reputation for performing best for Seers and those skilled in Legilimency, mysterious arts both, which consequently gave the possessor of a silver lime wand considerable status. When demand was at its height, wandmaker Arturo Cephalopos claimed that the association between silver lime and clairvoyance was ‘a falsehood circulated by merchants like Gerbold Ollivander (my own grandfather), who have overstocked their workshops with silver lime and hope to shift their surplus.’ But Cephalopos was a slipshod wandmaker and an ignoramus, and nobody, Seer or not, was surprised when he went out of business.

Spruce

Unskilled wandmakers call spruce a difficult wood, but in doing so they reveal their own ineptitude. It is quite true that it requires particular deftness to work with spruce, which produces wands that are ill-matched with cautious or nervous natures, and become positively dangerous in fumbling fingers. The spruce wand requires a firm hand, because it often appears to have its own ideas about what magic it ought to be called upon to produce. However, when a spruce wand meets its match - which, in my experience, is a bold spell-caster with a good sense of humour - it becomes a superb helper, intensely loyal to their owners and capable of producing particularly flamboyant and dramatic effects.

Sycamore

The sycamore makes a questing wand, eager for new experience and losing brilliance if engaged in mundane activities. It is a quirk of these handsome wands that they may combust if allowed to become ‘bored,’ and many witches and wizards, settling down into middle age, are disconcerted to find their trusty wand bursting into flame in their hand as they ask it, one more time, to fetch their slippers. As may be deduced, the sycamore’s ideal owner is curious, vital and adventurous, and when paired with such an owner, it demonstrates a capacity to learn and adapt that earns it a rightful place among the world's most highly-prized wand woods.

Vine

The druids considered anything with a woody stem as a tree, and vine makes wands of such a special nature that I have been happy to continue their ancient tradition. Vine wands are among the less common types, and I have been intrigued to notice that their owners are nearly always those witches or wizards who seek a greater purpose, who have a vision beyond the ordinary and who frequently astound those who think they know them best. Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths, and I have found them more sensitive than any other when it comes to instantly detecting a prospective match. Reliable sources claim that these wands can emit magical effects upon the mere entrance into their room of a suitable owner, and I have twice observed the phenomenon in my own shop.

Walnut

Highly intelligent witches and wizards ought to be offered a walnut wand for trial first, because in nine cases out of ten, the two will find in each other their ideal mate. Walnut wands are often found in the hands of magical innovators and inventors; this is a handsome wood possessed of unusual versatility and adaptability. A note of caution, however: while some woods are difficult to dominate, and may resist the performance of spells that are foreign to their natures, the walnut wand will, once subjugated, perform any task its owner desires, provided that the user is of sufficient brilliance. This makes for a truly lethal weapon in the hands of a witch or wizard of no conscience, for the wand and the wizard may feed from each other in a particularly unhealthy manner.

Willow

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Yew

Yew wands are among the rarer kinds, and their ideal matches are likewise unusual, and occasionally notorious. The wand of yew is reputed to endow its possessor with the power of life and death, which might, of course, be said of all wands; and yet yew retains a particularly dark and fearsome reputation in the spheres of duelling and all curses. However, it is untrue to say (as those unlearned in wandlore often do) that those who use yew wands are more likely to be attracted to the Dark Arts than another. The witch or wizard best suited to a yew wand might equally prove a fierce protector of others. Wands hewn from these most long-lived trees have been found in the possession of heroes quite as often as of villains. Where wizards have been buried with wands of yew, the wand generally sprouts into a tree guarding the dead owner’s grave. What is certain, in my experience, is that the yew wand never chooses either a mediocre or a timid owner.

CORE TYPE
Unicorn

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.

Dragon

As a rule, dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. Dragon wands tend to learn more quickly than other types. While they can change allegiance if won from their original master, they always bond strongly with the current owner.

The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental.

Phoenix

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.

LENGTH & FLEXIBILITY

Many wandmakers simply match the wand length to the size of the witch or wizard who will use it, but this is a crude measure, and fails to take into account many other, important considerations. In my experience, longer wands might suit taller wizards, but they tend to be drawn to bigger personalities, and those of a more spacious and dramatic style of magic. Neater wands favour more elegant and refined spell-casting. However, no single aspect of wand composition should be considered in isolation of all the others, and the type of wood, the core and the flexibility may either counterbalance or enhance the attributes of the wand’s length.

Most wands will be in the range of between nine and fourteen inches. While I have sold extremely short wands (eight inches and under) and very long wands (over fifteen inches), these are exceptionally rare. In the latter case, a physical peculiarity demanded the excessive wand length. However, abnormally short wands usually select those in whose character something is lacking, rather than because they are physically undersized (many small witches and wizards are chosen by longer wands).

Wand flexibility or rigidity denotes the degree of adaptability and willingness to change possessed by the wand-and-owner pair - although, again, this factor ought not to be considered separately from the wand wood, core and length, nor of the owner’s life experience and style of magic, all of which will combine to make the wand in question unique.

unspeakingly — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 00:18:14 GMT

HAVE A MEME, GUYS

do it. o-only, you don't have to, I'm just bored. ♥

I have been neglecting everyone so much, I'm sorry ;3; but school's been easy so far, so I should be back on top of everything pretty soon. ... /also, gets on Laney, Franzy and Lii's requests from that prompt request entry orzzzz

thirty-nine ★ 'cause I've lavished my loved ones

unspeakingly — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 02:47:46 GMT

Okay, I am still stuck in the most ridiculous writing mood ever and I cannot brain for myself, so I am stealing this from Shugo. ♥

Give me characters/pairing and a prompt and I'll write you something.

I'M SERIOUS GUYS, GIVE ME STUFF. You can give me more than one, if you like. I can't promise that I'll get to everything but hnnn I need to write. Lots. If you're not sure if I know a fandom, ask me! A-also sob, s-sorry if I fail at some characters. SPREAD THE WORD, TELL YOUR FRIENDS but make sure you mention that I am not that amazing of a writer lmfao.

GO GO GO

eta: Also, because Fedora just reminded me, LMFAO GUYS PLEASE DON'T ASK ME TO WRITE PORN, I WOULD DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT.

thirty-nine ★ and the spam continues; n-no more today, I promise

unspeakingly — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 05:10:46 GMT

Title: the depressing fic of many more to come
Pairings/Characters: England + Australia.
Summary: She's not ready to let go, yet.
Rating: PG
Notes: Depression of the 1930's. ;~; 1932, specifically, which is when it was still at its worst. P.S. this killed me. >: And I cannot stop writing.

---

It's been a while since England has visited Australia; lately, he's found himself with so little time that he can barely pull himself away from a desk of paperwork and crowds of people complaining about the lack of jobs, of income, of supplies and food - it's quite painful to watch his entire nation suffer, and there's just no opportunity for him to break away from it for anything else. So he sends who he needs over there, without so much as a word from himself - men to investigate the state of the economy over there, to demand adjustments where they are needed. His country needs the money, and she just needs to pay back her loans.

Because of the time it's been since he last walked the streets of the country, he's shocked and faintly horrified when he arrives in Sydney to see men lying on the streets, brawls outside of pubs, and people leaving the city on horseback with little more than a pack of food scraps. He knows that the Depression is bound to have an impact, but he hasn't seen the place laid to waste this badly in decades, and it makes him worry for the state of the country herself.

He finds himself hurrying to her house, and he can't help but notice along the way, the way in which people recoil from him, the doors slamming and locking; people are retreating as he walks through the street, but he doesn't have the time to care or wonder about such a thing, and he lets himself into Australia's house quickly, ignoring the eyes on his back.

He calls out for her as soon as he locks the door behind him, but there's no reply, and he can't find her anywhere downstairs. For a moment, he can't think of why she would be upstairs unless she's sleeping, but then he recalls that she has a study up there, and makes his way up the stairs to find her.

He's never seen her use her study before, and the idea of his lively colony bent over a desk and surrounded by papers is something that doesn't sit well with him; his stomach twists and knots unpleasantly, and he goes up the steps two at a time.

The door to the study is closed, but there's light slipping out through under the crack, and he opens it, a little hesitantly - he's not entirely sure what he's supposed to anticipate, but he's sure that he won't like it, whatever it may be.

He turns out to be entirely correct.

As soon as the knob is turned, he hears another click, and a scraping sound from inside the room; once the door is opened, he is met with the barrel of a handgun aimed perfectly between his eyes, and a shaking Australia holding it with both of her hands. He freezes, and she reacts similarly.

"... Australia?" he says, quietly, and the gun clatters to the floor.

"England," she whispers, wide-eyed, and it's dreadful that he can't tell whether it's voluntary, or whether she's lost her voice. "I-I didn't know it was--" And then, to his increasing horror, her shoulders tense, rise, and she recoils, stumbling away from him with an almost fearful expression, catching herself on the desk behind her. "Why're you here?"

He takes a moment to look her over, and it pains him just to see what the Depression is doing to his little girl; she's deathly pale from head to toe, but her face is utterly ghastly, and the huge black rings under her eyes just make it stand out all the more. He's not sure whether it's from his visit or from fatigue, but she's trembling violently, barely able to hold herself on her feet. There are bruises on her arms, and a particularly nasty one on her neck, and he recalls the brawling he saw on the streets with a surge of fury.

But it's gone in flash, because he remembers why he has finally come to visit her.

"You look dreadful," he says sadly, staying on the other side of the room for the moment. Her eyes are wild, and he's not sure how she'll respond if he tries to move any closer.

"Why are you here?" she repeats, louder, and he's marginally relieved to hear that her voice is still intact, if a little hoarse. He can't bring himself to tell her yet, and suddenly, her fear is mixed with anger, and her shaking increases as she's forced to come up with her own answers that he won't provide. "More debts t' collect? Going to change my economy to suit your needs again? You bloody bastard, I haven't seen you in years, and this is what you visit me for--"

"We're cutting ties," he mumbles, and her words die in her throat, coming up with a choking sound.

She stares.

"... What?" Even her voice has a tremor to it, now, but England forces himself to meet her eyes, expression carefully blank and steely.

"I regret to inform you," he says, struggling to keep his voice at a constant volume, "that Britain has reached the decision it believes is best for both economies, and will bring about an end to the Depression all the more quickly. The United Kingdom will be cutting all colonial and dominion ties with Australia within no more than a month; at that time, you will be required to pay back all loans, and you will be expected to attend a meeting in which the action will be formally confirmed."

The anger has dissipated, and all that's left is that heart-breaking mix of shock and fear. "You're..." Her hands creep up to cover her mouth, eyes wide and face gaunt. "You're... cuttin' ties with me...?" He nods, avoiding her eye again, and she barely fights back the sudden urge to retch. "Why...?"

"I just told you," he sighs, tired, and turns to leave, hand resting on the doorknob. "I'm sorry that that's all I came to visit for. I do hope you get better soon."

He should have been expecting it, but he's surprised when she latches onto his arm, and he turns, startled to see her eyes brimming with tears - and although, at first, she looks furious, it passes quickly and instead she's only desperate, scared and panicked.

"You can't!" she cries, and he opens his mouth to snap back that he most certainly can, she's his colony, but she rapidly continues, "You're lying, that's not bloody fair! You-- you stupid git, it won't be better for anyone this way - have you seen them?! They're dying, England, and I can't do anything!"

Australia's grip is strong, but he wrenches his arm free and pins her with a glare that makes her recoil. "I'm sorry that your country is in such a bad state, and I understand the difficult times you are going through, but--"

"No, you don't!" she shrieks, and he's startled, because he hasn't seen her lose her temper like this for a long time, and he's not sure what has suddenly set it off. "Apparently, y'don't understand, because if you did, you wouldn't be abandoning me! They're not just dropping dead for no reason, you twat, look at me!" She sweeps a hand down her arm, indicating the dark bruises there. "They're killing each other!! And - and Communism, and - and -" She's breaking down into hysterics, and her hands recoil; she rubs the tears from her face with heels of her palms, breath hitching and coming in shaking gasps. "And nobody knows what t' do! You can't just fucking abandon me!!"

That strikes him, finally. "Abandon you...?"

"Yes," she chokes, still scrubbing at her eyes frantically, shoulders shaking with her heaving sobs. "Y'think it's just for your money, and your Empire? I'm your colony, for fuck's sake, you're my dad, you can't just leave me like this out of th' fucking blue!"

She's on the verge of collapse, and despite that he's still shell-shocked, England turns away again and tugs the door open sharply. All he has to do is take a step into the hallway and she suddenly moves, too fast, but he can't catch what it is until it's too late; he hears the click of the pistol being cocked once again, and freezes.

"You can't," she says, voice reaching a high, whispery whine. He glances back at her, but while she's trying her best to look intimidating, all he can see is his scared little girl - the one that hid from the Englishmen invading her land, that glued herself to his side against the will of her native people, that fought him in a blind panic during the Gold Rush. Realisation comes around and hits him full force when finally, pleading, she says, "I won't allow it."

"Australia--" It's difficult to swallow past the lump building in his throat, the uncomfortable tightness of his chest, but he manages, and calmly, catches her eye and tells her, "For God's sake, Australia, put the gun down."

It's an instant reaction. Australia's fingers unwrap and her hands snap apart, and the gun hits the floor with a heavy thud. She doesn't even think about it, just obeys silently, and a thought creeps up on him that he hasn't had since the American Revolution.

He doesn't want to lose her.

The situation is oddly reversed to how it was back then, and it just makes him feel all the more nauseous. How could I do this to her?

"Please, England," she begs quietly, voice cracking with desperation. "Please, you can't - bloody hell, 'm just a kid, I'm a teenager, I don't know what I'm doing."

She's not ready for independence, and he's not even sure that he wants her to be.

It turns out that she's wasted all the strength she had left, and she keels forward all of a sudden. England whips around and manages to catch her around the middle before she can hit the floor, but she's long past the point of exhaustion, and she's not going to be getting up any time soon, so he lifts her into his arms and carries her down the hall, into her room. He lays her out on the bed, tucks the covers in and tugs them up to her chin, and then he lies beside her, and even if it won't be any time soon, he stays by her side and he waits for her to wake up, the same way he would when she was still a child, and they never had these problems between them.

He won't leave her.

Because maybe then, she'll never leave him.

Notes:
- In the late 1920's, unable to solve Britain's enormous financial problems of the time, the country put large pressure on Australia for the repayment of loans, and stories began to travel in the British capital about the lack of effective management of the Australian economy.
- There was a clash when the Bank of England sent out their own money-man to investigate the rumours, and the Labor Party leaders saw him as the 'British debt collector'. This led to a battle between the financial conservatives and the Labor Party that whipped up hysteria that was as much fiction as fact.
- 1930's marked the beginning of a quite severe depression in Australia (which had been building up since 1927), lasting until 1932; while the higher classes suffered almost no change, the average worker worked himself to the bone to scrounge up food for his family, and lived in constant fear of a retrenchment notice.
- The problem was only furthered by the fact that no lead power or intellectual seemed to be able to agree on a solution, and instead, the issue was met with many different answers.
- In 1932, Britain actually attempted to cut colonial and dominion ties with Australia -- Australia, however, was reluctant to let go, and clung desperately to a lost ideal of Empire solidarity and a new Britain in the antipodes.
- The law was quite often at war with its citizens, especially over property evictions; neighbours would fight police until their barricades were broken down and they were left bruised. In June 1931, there was a particularly bad incident that ended up involving gunfire and an hour long hand-to-hand fight, and became known as 'Bloody Friday'.
- Naturally, for every fight against evictions, and for everything else that went wrong in Australia during the 1930's, the media and the conservative politicians blamed the Communists.
- Throughout all of the 1930's, immigration to Australia decreased drastically, and racism became frighteningly more common and violent in towns, specifically, after one certain incident where an Italian killed an Australian in a bar, against Italian and Yugoslav migrants.

(~ from Australia in the 1930's by Matthew Williams)

thirty-eight ★ i am so sorry there is something wrong with me

unspeakingly — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 02:30:53 GMT

Title: the oddly serious fic of many more to come
Pairings/Characters: England + Australia.
Summary: She's just a bundle of troubles.
Rating: PG
Notes: Set in their first year of colonisation, so hello, ~unstable relations~. ... This thing is so short and my end-notes are getting longer, what is this.

---

She'd run away again.

It was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth, keeping her.

Not that England didn't understand why she kept running - the abuse of those they had found living on the land always sent her into a fit of anger - but he couldn't help it if the natives wouldn't work as they were told, wouldn't give up their nonsensical beliefs in favour of accepting the Lord, and wouldn't relinquish their useless artefacts.They could learn, he'd seen that much, but they just weren't willing; they were too stubborn just to give up their language, even though the order had been issued time and time again.

To be honest, though, it was her and her empty land that he was more interested in for the time being.

He knew where to find her, at least; she fled to the same place every time she saw the savages she claimed to be "her people" being treated with force or with disrespect. He wasn't sure that it could really be called 'hiding' if she always chose the same spot to run to, but he wasn't about to complain.

It was just a royal pain in the ass to get there.

Some high caves a way away from where they'd decided to settle that he saw no significance in, and he didn't care much to think about - the only important thing he could see about them was that his colony was hiding away inside, and he had to drag her out. Again.

He sighed and trudged on in.

It only took a minute of wandering and searching through the dark caves to find her, sitting by one of the bizarre rock formations with her knees drawn up to her chest and her eyes on the ground. England frowned down at her.

"Let's go," he said shortly. She didn't look up at him, muttered something in the natives' language that he couldn't understand, and he grabbed her arm and yanked her roughly to her feet. "English."

"... Why do you hurt them?" she asked, and for a moment, he revelled in the sound; her British accent was proper and clear, and despite that she frowned as though the words were foreign on her tongue, she spoke it so fluently and flawlessly that she may as well have been a high-class London-born lady.

Unfortunately, then what she had actually said had to sink in.

"They wouldn't have to be hurt if they did as they were told," he said sadly, despite his attempts to sound entirely detached.

"What they are told to do hurts them," she snapped, suddenly fierce, and pulled her arm from his slackened grasp. "Give up the Dreamtime? Stop our ceremonies to the gods and the lands and the animals?" She tried to scoff and turn her nose up, to imitate him, but it ended up as a huff and a pout. "The Rainbow Snake will eat you," she muttered, petulant.

England scowled. "Mind your tone--"

"Fuck you," she spat, and sat back down, hunched over and avoiding his eye.

"Young lady, you watch your mouth! Where have you been learning language that bloody foul?! I certainly don't use it around you!"

"Your Englishmen," she said, venom suddenly gone and instead replaced by a sort of subdued quietness; almost a peace, or something similarly passive. "The other children are picking up on it too. Parents are not happy, to hear such strange, harsh words from another language that doesn't belong to this land."

He sighed heavily and, after an awkward moment of silence between them, took a seat on the ground beside her. "Do you know what it means?"

"No."

"Good. Don't use crude language like that."

"Alright." She shifted, frowning at the uncomfortable material of her tunic, and looked up at him, head resting on her knees once again. "... This place is Binoomea," she told him, speaking slowly and a little hesitantly. "It's sacred - the spirits of the land carved it out, and we use it to heal the ill and the wounded." He met her eye, confused, and she explained, "The water, down in the lower caves."

He hummed. If it was sacred, then no wonder the natives had been so outraged at him following the child in, after the first time she had tried to run from him. "What does the word mean?"

"Dark places."

He had to stifle a laugh at that, because they certainly were literal with their naming; most of the time, something was titled for its discoverer, or in the name of a Kingdom, and it tended to sound much better - but, then again, he supposed that they didn't think of people as particularly important in comparison to the land itself, which was an oddity if he had ever known one.

She didn't seem to notice his muffled chuckle, and gave a tiny sigh. "My people are upset."

England looked over to her. "... You know," he said thoughtfully, leaning back on his hands, "those Englishmen are your people too."

She turned to him, startled. "They are?"

He nodded. "Well, of course. Look at yourself; you look an awful lot more like us than one of those 'natives' of yours, don't you?" Australia frowned and hugged her knees tighter, cutting her gaze away again. "They live here, too; the crew of the ship, the convicts, the farmers, the wives. And aren't you a British colony?"

Her eyebrows drew together, and she was clearly conflicted. "But, then - I belong to the land, but whose country am I?"

"No-one's," he answered her without hesitation, not meeting the offended look she shot at him. "You are the land of Terra Australis, and you are my colony. That's enough." He placed his hand on her head and left it for a moment, comforting, before tousling her hair with mock-nonchalance.

And just as England had been hoping, the gesture was enough to make her grin widely, lively again, to bat at his hands with frantic, playful shrieking every time he dodged her grabs for him, and he hardly even realised he was laughing as she tried in vain to clambour up and ruffle his hair in retaliation for his attack.

And she may have been a bundle of trouble, but he kept her anyway.

Notes:
- When England first found her (which I will... write later, too), Australia would have been quite peaceful - the native tribes were a generally peaceful people, and she spent her time before colonisation as a Dreamtime spirit of the land. Her aggression and immaturity is actually inherited from the English colonisers and the convicts shipped over.
- This is the incident that set off her identity crisis. After this, she was constantly torn between whether the English were her people, or whether the Aborigines were, and it took an awful long time for her to come to the conclusion that her people didn't have to all be the same race.
- Her identity crisis would have been dreadful up until the time that the country was given its name, because she wouldn't have even had a race to go by; she was called the "land belonging to no-one", and her natives didn't even have an all-over name, so you can kind of imagine how confused the poor girl would have been.
- Binoomea is now known as the Jenolan Caves, and is a popular tourist site because of its incredible rock formations and various different caves.
- The Europeans didn't actually become involved in the Jenolan Caves until 1838 when its discovery was first recorded, but ex-convict and possible outlaw James McKeown was said to have been using the caves as a hideout sometime before then.
- There are still an unknown number of caves; many remain undiscovered to date.
- The natives to the area could find their way down to subterranean water in the caves, and believed it to heal the ill.
- The Dreamtime creation story of the Gundungurra people explains the creation of the whole countryside; it tells of how two ancestral spirits - a great eel-like creature, Gurangatch (an incarnation of the Rainbow Snake), and a large native cat, or quoll, Mirrangan - had an almighty struggle that led to the gouging out of the land, forming the Jenolan Caves, as well as river systems and the Wombeyan Caves.

thirty-seven ★ tra la la this is fel and michael's fault

unspeakingly — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 00:41:03 GMT

Title: the obligatory adorable fic of many more to come
Pairings/Characters: England + Australia and. George III lmfao.
Summary: Taking her anywhere is usually dreadful. Taking her to meet royalty is an honest-to-God nightmare.
Rating: G, unless you are offended by British words like "bloody". :>
Notes: lmfao this is kind of short and choppy and only the beginning of much spam to come.

This would be in roughly 1790, two years after the British began to colonise Australia; thus, Australia is still kind of reluctant to like or trust England what with the abuse of her native people, and England is still kind of "ffffff why did I take her she's so annoying". But they'd be starting to like each other. ♥ Also, she hasn't developed her own slang quite yet, she still mimics England as far as most things go.

---

"Englaaaand!"

England slaps Australia's hands away from where they're trying to uncurl the ringlets her hair has been put into, catches them and forces them back down by her sides, kneeling in front of her. "I mean it, Terra Australis. You're going somewhere important today, so no pouting, no whining, no yelling, no running around in my clothes, no running around at all, no jumping, no climbing, no fidgeting, no fussing and no," he grabs her straying hands again, "messing up your clothes, or your hair. Do you understand?"

"But I don't like dresses," she whines, stamping her foot. She pouts and looks him in the eye. "And you still haven't told me where we're going."

"Good Lord, girl, don't you understand the meaning of a surprise?" He goes to ruffle her hair, and recalls the many hours that have been put into taming it to lie flat and curl properly; instead, he stands, picks her up, tugs her collar down straight and heads for the door. "You'll see when we get there, you just have to be patient."

"I don't wanna be bloody patient, that's what you tell me when you haven't gotten me things yet."

With amazing effort, England manages not to flush with embarrassment - Australia has gotten everything he means to give her late in the past two years since her discovery - and rolls his eyes at the girl. "I mean it, young lady. You're going to have to wait." She huffs, scowls and refuses to look at him. He frowns. "And would it honestly kill you to speak like a proper lady?"

"Might do," she mutters, crossing her arms.

He raises an eyebrow at her, not sure whether he should be amused or irritated. "Well, either you speak properly or you don't speak at all."

She claps her hands over her mouth and glares at him.

He really can't help but laugh at her. "I hope you know," he chuckles, teasing, "that you look absolutely bloody ridiculous like that."

She sinks lower in his arms, curled in on herself, and refuses to move her hands from her face for the entire carriage trip, seething. Eventually, though, they pull up, and she lets her hands fall in favour of scrambling over England's lap to peer out the window, curious to see where he has taken her that is so very important to them - or just him, maybe.

England picks her up, opens the door and sets her on the ground before she has had much of a chance to gape at the impressive scenery through the window, and he quickly takes her by the hand to tug her along the cobblestone path that leads into the huge castle looming over them. Australia, too awed to pay attention to anything but her surroundings, trips and stumbles along behind him, her eyes glued to the high walls and turrets. England sighs irritably and drags her faster, tugging sharply at her arm.

"Come on, act proper now," he murmurs to her. To his relief, she straightens, hoists up her skirts and catches up with him, holding his hand tightly in hers and trying not to let herself be distracted again.

It turns out all to be in vain as soon as they enter the castle gates, and England practically has to tether Australia to his side; she's gasping and giggling and trying to pull free of his grip, to run off and look at all of the statues, the shields and weapons, the paintings, the tapestries - everything is unbelievably extravagant to her. The residents of the castle watch them pass with curious expressions, and England avoids their eyes, but he doesn't want to ruin the child's moment of fun.

"Hey, England," she whispers to him excitedly. "Did America come here too? Is that how important it is?"

To his credit, he doesn't even cringe; Australia's idolisation of America, just from what she's heard of him, is something he's becoming used to quickly. It's a little endearing, really. "Yes, he did. I brought him here shortly after we'd found him, for this."

Her hand curls around his a little tighter, and when he looks down at her, she has a strange, blank sort of frown on her face. "... For what?" she asks quietly.

He realises suddenly that his surprise is going downhill in her eyes; she's trying to join up what she has in common with the old colony of America, and the first thing she's pulling up is the presence of native people on the land. She's worried that it will mean something bad for them.

But he's determined not to ruin the surprise, so he forces himself to look away and tells her, "Something special."

She doesn't speak again, after that - not even when they reach the huge oak doors, or when the guards step forward to heave them open, but he's immensely relieved when he hears her gasp as they enter the room; it's just too exquisitely decorated for her not to be amazed, and he thinks she might finally be catching on to what the point of their trip is.

"Behave," he hisses to her, and she nods quickly. When they come to a halt, she lets go of his hand and leaves her own politely by her sides.

King George III looks down at them from upon his throne and nods. "What do you bring to me today, Lord Arthur?" He turns his gaze on the small girl, who looks absolutely shell-shocked by his booming voice, and she stares right back at him.

England drops to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. "Terra Australis, my King. The land claimed for the British penal colonisation - the land belonging to no-one." She looks to him then, shocked and hurt, but he shoots a sharp glare back at her and mouths, Bow.

She doesn't.

The King hums thoughtfully. "I see." He looks her over again, and she still seems to be in awe. "What is the matter, my child?"

"... Woo~ow," she finally says, and England almost loses his balance, sending her a frantic, scolding look - but she's still staring up at the King, eyes wide and jaw slack. "Who are you? Even England doesn't wear stuff that fancy!"

The man looks taken-aback, but he answers her, regardless. "I am King George III, child; the ruler of England."

"Like a tribe leader?" she shoots back quickly, excited, and then pauses. "But why would you be the leader of England? I don't have a leader." And ignoring the way England scowls and looks as if he's going to snap something at her, she continues, "That's disrespectful to the land!"

He's not sure where she's been learning such long words, or why he hasn't taught her politics yet, but he's suddenly regretting the combination of the two, because she's standing her and rounding on his King, and if she doesn't get thrown out soon, he decides, he's going to drag her out himself just to save himself some embarrassment.

To his shock, horror and overwhelming relief, the King laughs at her scolding. "A land must have a ruler, my child," he tells her. She frowns, confused, and England can see her mouthing to herself, It does? "And tell me, where do you come from?"

Suddenly, her expression is startled and nervous, and she looks to England for help, fidgeting and mumbling, "Er... My people... The Dreamtime, and we're not really - we don't - there's no--"

"Those we found there don't have a word for the land, my King," he interrupts, easing Australia's panic a little, "and she claims to have always been there, but the people discovered on the coast where we first landed have told us that they are from 'Eora'--"

"No!" she cuts in, turning to him, tone incredulous. "No! Not eora! We've never been to this place before!"

England is perplexed, but the King chuckles again before their argument can continue, and they both turn to him, surprised and a little embarrassed about their fighting in front of such an important figure - Australia may not know his politics, but she knows enough to recognise that the man before her is of higher status than the rest of the people here, and she's well-aware that what they just did would be considered extremely disrespectful by any leader.

"That is enough," he says to them. "I have seen the land claimed in my Kingdom's name, and it looks as if you two have a few things you would like to sort out." They both cringe, but England gets to his feet and takes Australia's hand again, tugging her down in a bow before they turn and leave; England walks as fast as he can without running, and Australia runs along behind him with her skirts gathered up in one hand.

As soon as they're outside, they pause for a moment, and she looks up at him, wide-eyed. "Cripes. We didn't get punished?"

Well, he has been a bit loopy lately, he thinks to himself, but out loud, he just ushers her along again hurriedly and mutters, "Well, that could have gone a whole lot worse."

He just hopes she never wants to meet his royalty again, because the chance that they'll all be that crazy is very slim indeed.

Notes:
- The name "Australia" wasn't coined for the country until 1810, but it was too annoying to type out every time, so it's just that nobody... calls her that.
- Random trivia! The captain of the First Fleet in 1788 was actually named Arthur Philip :'D
- George III did actually develop mental issues during his reign, especially towards the later end of his life. People were very confused by it at the time, but it was likely a blood disease.
- The word "Aboriginal" wasn't used to describe the natives until 1789.
- The Eora people were those living along the coast of Sydney, and therefore, likely would have been the tribe that the British first encountered. The word "Eora" literally means "here" or "from this place", which is how the tribe described to the British were they were from.

two ★ i'm standing on the rooftops shouting out

unspeakingly — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 11:21:27 GMT

Just some RPing junk. This is mainly to help me keep track of all the old journals I have floating around. I know, I have way too many. Shush. I playercest in f-locked entries with them. Also, they hang around in my musebox, musinglyboxed .

dramadramaduck

aliceinouran
Name: Haruhi Fujioka.
Series: Ouran High School Host Club.
AU/OU: Original.

nonoise
Name: Nill.
Series: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage.
AU/OU: Original.

iyaaan
Name: Mikuru Asahina.
Series: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.
AU/OU: Original.

crucible_rpg

notherfavourite
Name: Lily.
Series: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage.
AU/OU: Original.

bubblevoid

byhisside
Name: Light Yagami.
Series: Death Note.
AU/OU: Alternate.

withoutright
Name: Roxas.
Series: Kingdom Hearts II.
AU/OU: Original.

</div></lj>
HOMELESS

oopscockroach
Name: Belphegor.
Series: Katekyo Hitman REBORN!.
AU/OU: Original.

notclumsy
Name: Dino Cavallone.
Series: Katekyo Hitman REBORN!.
AU/OU: Original.

10thsrighthand
Name: Hayato Gokudera.
Series: Katekyo Hitman REBORN!
AU/OU: Alternate.

onlywithout
Name: Nill.
Series: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage.
AU/OU: Alternate. [Mobile Suit Gundam 00 crossover]

maidenofblade
Name: Naoto Fuyumine.
Series: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage.
AU/OU: Original.

herrenlos
Name: Haine Rammsteiner.
Series: DOGS: Bullets & Carnage.
AU/OU: Original.

mistressofwar
Name: "Carmine Zuigiber" / War.
Series: Good Omens.
AU/OU: Original.

petitwhitebird
Name: Naminé.
Series: Kingdom Hearts II.
AU/OU: Original.

zaaap
Name: Larxene.
Series: Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories.
AU/OU: Original.

atrumhora
Name: Minato "Minako" Arisato.
Series: Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3.
AU/OU: Alternate.

bymidnight
Name: Ryoji Mochizuki.
Series: Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3.
AU/OU: Original.

death_arcana
Name: Pharos.
Series: Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3.
AU/OU: Original.

gundamb00bs
Name: Setsuna F. Seiei.
Series: Mobile Suit Gundam 00.
AU/OU: Alternate.

godlessworld
Name: Soran Ibrahim.
Series: Mobile Suit Gundam 00.
AU/OU: Original.

iyaansounfit
Name: Tieria "Moeria" Erde.
Series: Mobile Suit Gundam 00.
AU/OU: Alternate.

doesnotbelieve
Name: Ilatieria-Erde Swan.
Series: Mobile Suit Gundam 00.
AU/OU: Alternate. [Twilight parody]

dualler
Name: Ryou Bakura / Yami no Bakura.
Series: Yuugiou.
AU/OU: Original.

childofneurons
Name: Nougami Neuro.
Series: Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro.
AU/OU: Original.

notanarthropod
Name: Yako Katsuragi.
Series: Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro.
AU/OU: Original.

puzzlecaptor
Name: Yako Katsuragi.
Series: Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro.
AU/OU: Alternate. [Card Captor Sakura-verse]

promissum
Name: Miharu Rokujo.
Series: Nabari no Ou.
AU/OU: Original.

downawell
Name: Miharu Rokujo.
Series: Nabari no Ou.
AU/OU: Alternate. [KHR! crossover, Inuyasha-verse]

inexisting
Name: Yoite.
Series: Nabari no Ou.
AU/OU: Original.

makeyouaking
Name: Yoite.
Series: Nabari no Ou.
AU/OU: Original.

raikousaaan
Name: Gau Meguro.
Series: Nabari no Ou.
AU/OU: Original.

thisisanorder
Name: Ciel Phantomhive.
Series: Kuroshitsuji.
AU/OU: Original.

hellishbutler
Name: Sebastian Michaels.
Series: Kuroshitsuji.
AU/OU: Original.

neverhadcontrol
Name: Terra.
Series: Teen Titans.
AU/OU: Original.

sisterguardian
Name: Latias.
Series: Pokemon Heroes.
AU/OU: Original.

marred_xguard
Name: Alviss.
Series: MÄR: Marchen Awakens Romance.
AU/OU: Original.

flammemontagne
Name: Enzan Ijuin.
Series: Rockman.EXE.
AU/OU: Original.

startswithlaw
Name: L Lawliet.
Series: Death Note.
AU/OU: Original.

a_lternate
Name: A.
Series: Death Note.
AU/OU: "Original". [99% headcanon]

hasapuppy
Name: Fai D. Fluorite.
Series: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles.
AU/OU: Original.

shotatastic
Name: Mitsuru Asahina.
Series: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.
AU/OU: Alternate.

hopeisdespair
Name: Nozomu Itoshiki.
Series: Sayonara, Zetsubou-sensei.
AU/OU: Original.

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