i mourn what could have been.

multimuse blog est. 2025

[givres]

#givres — selective, independent multimuse. primarily portrayals of animanga characters + some miscellaneous. 18+. low activity. i just like to make stuff up (headcanon - based). orchestrated by fox (25, they / he, gmt).

a study in : male anger, what comes to those who wait, lab rats & wire mothers, unwavering devotion, begging for scraps and freedom.

carrd.

[givres]

starting to think i should have just started an olruggio blog instead of finishing my multi. but i'll lock in on my other muses regardless. im not a quitter >:3

[flovverworks]

@givres cont.

They flinch. Closed fist moving toward their chest, and for a brief moment they consider retreating. Give up on finding something worthwhile along the sea so many of them loved (it wasn't right, nor did it resemble any place they had visited prior, they knew that — and yet the ocean called), aimlessly walk the opposite way and hope a village would come into sight, with someone kind and gentle to lend them a hand.

Instead, it seems they had upset someone. Far from as intimidating as an angered Oz nor as anxiety-inducing as the day they choose to deny Vincent the truth, but it was unpleasant and it was scary when all alone. However, that didn't mean he should be feared. Unknowing of his reason and undoubtedly the person who caused a surprise, he must have expected to remain alone. A solitary place like this could hold a rare herb not meant for anyone else's eyes, or, perhaps, preparations for a shady crime. …Right, it wouldn't be the first time they had been shown hidden entrances where no one would suspect them to be, he could simply be protecting a secret. In which case…a moment's hesitation turns into newfound conviction and they walk toward him with (somewhat shaky) steps.

Except it does turn into an interrogation, and whatever consideration Akira had held that the prior movements wasn't suspicious is thrown out the window. More importantly… It reminds me of Murr… Differing designs but a cloak nonetheless, and just like that none of it matters. It's probably important to him, whatever it is that he's protecting, but their shoulders slump and the short speech they had practiced in their head becomes obsolete. Who are you? The Sage. Once upon a time or now, the white jacket they had been wearing during that time their only current comfort, unsure if they were even supposed to still be in hold of it. The seagulls' cries, the waves crashing into stone and the violent wind catching hold of their hood felt all the more lonely.

Ah, no, they had to collect themself. Unsure as they may be, they still had their name. Don't forget it.

"…I'm Akira," the smile is brief but diplomatic, unable to be genuine when they were yearning for someone else to stand in front of them. He probably wished for a 'nothing' next. Unfortunately their gaze had already been drawn to the side, somewhere behind him where the cliff towered the sea, unable to be seen due to how he had positioned himself. Perhaps they should've considering lying, but they had faced people wishing them harm before. None of them had the kind of gaze that was currently looking over them. "I don't know what you are doing, but I won't tell anyone that you were here... So, please don't worry about that," likely insufficient and undesired and all they could manage before their heart took charge, leaving no time for a response. "Do you...do you know if the Sage's wizards are nearby? I'm looking for them...or any directions, really..."

[givres]

so they're lost - and by the sounds of it, unknowing. the thought does little to still the hammering in olruggio's chest. where'd they come from? the spell he'd come to restore lies somewhere between the great hall and kahln, on the west coast of the zozah peninsula, where the cliff edge plunges and the continent comes to a swift end. there isn't an unknowing village for miles - no settlements at all, actually. this wasn't a place people just stumbled across.

what makes him uneasier still, is the way the stranger - akira, they said their name was - peers behind him, eyes straining to see what he is desperately trying to conceal. olruggio finds himself following their gaze, his body weaving almost of its own accord, desperate to hide the spell. the futility of the situation is not lost on him - the more evasive he became, the more obvious it would be that he was hiding something. the more curious they'd probably become.

and what is that accent? that name? in all his years, in all the places his work has taken him. . . he's never heard anything like it. olruggio's only a betting man when he drinks - but here, stone cold sober, he'd gamble everything on akira not being from zozah.

his own anxiety aside, something else gnaws at him. if this stranger is lost, how long have they been wandering? are they tired? cold? thirsty? there was only salt - water for miles. this was only supposed to be a short journey; in, draw, out - still, he can't help but kick himself for not bringing a vapour bubble.

he almost laughs, despite himself. if qifrey were here, this is the point where he'd chastise him. you're too kind, olly, he'd say, a hint of something fond - but otherwise unreadable - in his eye. you worry too much. you always put everyone's needs before your own. as if it's a defect. as if compassion is a crime.

" directions. . . " he parrots, thoughtlessly, scratching at the back of his neck - another nervous habit. that wasn't much to go off of. directions to where? his work has taken olruggio all over zozah, but if his hunch is correct, he'lll be about as much help as a fire sigil underwater. he's never left the land of the pact. " wizards? sorry, i'm not sure i'm followin'. "

" i can point ya in the direction of witches - don't have to look very far, " he gestures to his cap, the universal sign of a witch. for a second, he wonders if he should disclose that information, considering their predicament - but surely they should already know that. " but there's no such thing as wizards. " well. " not really, anyway. there are some folk who call themselves that, but they're real nasty pieces of work. men who just want to separate themselves from women. i don't associate with them. don't know anythin' about a sage, either. "

" where did you come from, anyway? never heard a name like akira before. " he clears his throat, taking another step towards them, hand extended. the other grips searneedle tightly, the warmth emanating from its core keeping him grounded. they've given him their name. it's only polite to do the same, he supposes. " name's olruggio. be honest with me: are you absolutely certain you didn't see me cast? "

[givres]

@martyrdove said : a 24 - hour laundromat, fluorescent lights humming above rows of idle machines. - caia & abel

dry clean only. doesn't read like much of a suggestion, but desperate times and all that. a thrill runs through him as he slams the dryer door shut. these orders may only be printed fabric, but ignoring them feels deliciously dangerous nonetheless. lately, abel's been finding relief in small rebellions - the previous night, he'd found himself frenziedly tearing the tag from his mattress. he can't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the memory. still, it had soothed his aching soul, even momentarily.

feeling exposed and declawed without his uniform, abel watches it dancing, black - over - white, inside the machine. the glass is warm under his lingering hands, . he should be more embarrassed, he thinks, by his current predicament. soaked through and dripping onto the laundromat floor. clad only in his vest, boxers and socks - still held up by their garters - he somehow felt little shame. by virtue of the late hour, the twins were alone - but if anyone were to enter. . . well, suitless and unarmed ( his blade stashed away in caia's pocket for safekeeping ), abel would look just like any other civilian.

maybe, if he was really lucky, the soap in the air might wash away the stench of blood that followed him, too.

the stakeout had gone tits up. there's a dull ache in his calves that refuses to let him forget - seven pointless hours spent crouching in the dark, un - moving, un - speaking, barely even breathing. they'd held vigil even as the heavens opened up and bitter winds whipped and howled around them. the target never showed - word came, eventually, from the director, dismissing them from their post. their intelligence had been wrong.

drenched and chilled to the bone, abel had flat - out refused to take the train home in his current state. he just didn't want them to catch a chill - it was an added bonus how good it felt to not come when shinra called. the report could wait until his fingers had feeling in them, pointless as it was to submit one. it was sure to be a real nail - biter. just wait until they got to the part where they saw a rat.

out of the corner of his eye, he catches caia shivering, still - dressed and wet through. a small weakness - probably the most she's shown around him in years. in all honesty, he'd been surprised she'd even tagged along. abel had half - expected her to jump on the train without him. she'd scoffed at his plan, and kept a sizeable distance from her brother, as if refusing to be associated with him. but she was here.

abel knows he needs to seize this moment, hold it like water in his hands. maybe, this time, she won't slip through his fingers.

" it's kinda fun, isn't it? being here? " gently, he breaks the silence between them, soft enough that the rumbling machines all but drown him out. his gaze stays fixed on the tumbling clothes. black, white. white, black. she can pretend not to hear him, if she likes. years of reaching out, of trying to close this distance she's created, have taught abel that caia likes to have an out. when she gets backed into a corner, she somehow phases through the wall. when abel tries to follow, he finds it cold, solid, impenetrable. " almost like we're real people again. "

their shared vulnerability makes him bolder.

" i mean, we haven't done anything like this since we were kids. i only ever see you on missions. . . "

his knife is within her reach. if she wants to shut him up, she's more than capable. trembling, suddenly feeling more exposed than the elements had left him, he continues.

" don't you ever miss us? "

[givres]

i'm aiming to get at least one (hopefully two) things written out tonight, but in the meantime. . . i found a sketch of my sweet abel. art utc if anyone's curious! ( vaguely suggestive but it's entirely metaphorical. )

[givres]

a windswept cliff overlooking a turbulent gray ocean, gulls crying overhead. @ olruggio

all casting seals degrade with enough time and exposure to the elements. it's a witch's civic duty to restore them, and one olruggio takes seriously. a hairline fracture in the seal of a beast - warding glyph and. . . well, best not to entertain the thought. still, it's a tedious job. especially this one.

spells by the coast are a pain in the neck. the ebb and flow of the tide, the constant crashing of waves and the spray of the sea erodes the ink much faster than on dry land, as well as the surface it's etched into. they need to be redrawn at least twice as often.

olruggio rests on his haunches, searneedle in hand, staring down at the vast and sprawling glyph beneath him. a simple spell, despite its size. hardly more than a light sigil engraved into the rock at his feet - when complete, it would cast a large beacon of light up into the sky, visible from miles away. a lighthouse, unmanned. chewing the end of his wand - a bad habit, one his parents, master and qifrey did their best to bully out of him over the years - olly does his best to ignore the improvements brewing in his mind. it's been a perfectly serviceable spell this far. if it ain't broke. . .

he sighs, and brings searneedle down again. one more stroke in the seal should do the trick.

then he feels it. olruggio isn't alone here.

over the past few years, he's developed a sort of sixth sense; an ability to sense the prying eyes of the children in his home. someone is here. and that means someone's been watching him cast.

please be a witch. he prays, to no god in particular, that one of the girls had slipped in the windowway after him. that someone else had come to do the same job he had. that it was qifrey, alaira, hiehart - stars above, he'd even take that nuisance beldaruit, though what the wise in teachings would be doing here stumped even him. the sea air is supposed to have health benefits. any witch worked fine. just please don't make me do it.

" oi! " he calls out, voice as gruff and intimidating as he can make it. his hands retreat under his cloak, away from the glyph, fumbling through the pages of his palm quire with trembling fingers. he doesn't even have the memory erasure spell prepared, has never drawn it before, but his wand seems to move of its own accord beneath its velvet curtain. " show yourself. "

then he spots them. a stranger in the distance, blue - black hair notably uncapped. a witch's cap is their calling card. personally, olly only goes without his when he wants to fly under the radar. some optimistic part of him hopes this is the case.

" who are you? " he demands, stepping away from the glyph at his feet and further back from the cliff - edge, towards the stranger. they're almost the same height, he notes, as they come face - to - face. " what did'ya see? "

nothing. just say nothing. please.

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓, 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄.    (  a collection of various  location prompts categorized by certain environments.  feel free to adjust phrasing as desired. this prompt is likely to be updated in the future.  )

[ 1. ] — URBAN :

the graffiti - scarred underpass of an old railway bridge, echoing with distant trains. the fire escape of a towering high - rise, overlooking a vast grid of sleeping lights. a forgotten alleyway behind a row of storefronts, bathed in the glow of a neon sign. the window booth of a greasy diner, blurred city lights reflected in the glass. a sheltered bus stop tagged with old stickers & graffiti, drenched in midnight rain. a food cart on a busy street corner, steam rising into the cool night air. a 24 - hour laundromat, fluorescent lights humming above rows of idle machines. amidst the initial trickle of commuters through a sprawling subway station. a park at the city's center, made up of grassy knolls & playground equipment. the shadowed corridor of a parking garage, footsteps echoing in concrete silence. the elevated walkway over a busy intersection, offering a bird's - eye view. a vibrant street art mural on the side of a decaying brick building, alive with color.

[ 2. ] — RURAL :

a cramped stall within an empty stable, moonlight shining through the rafters. a neglected orchard where wind - blown fruit rots beneath gnarled trees. a winding gravel path leading all the way to a secluded farmhouse. a field of wildflowers buzzing with bees, bordered by split - rail fencing. a street temporarily shut down on behalf of a bustling farmer's market. the sleepy main street of an eerie town, a single streetlight casting a warm glow. a dry creek bed winding through brittle grass & sun-bleached stones. a rickety wooden bridge arching over a narrow stream, frogs croaking all around. a quiet paddock under bright starlight, farm animals peacefully grazing. the middle of a deep, vast corn field under a brilliantly shining moon. a dusty, unpaved road stretching endlessly through a landscape of rolling hills. a yard sale with patrons trickling through beneath the hot sun.

[ 3. ] — NATURE :

a moss - covered trail leading deeper into a dense, mist-shrouded forest. a windswept cliff overlooking a turbulent gray ocean, gulls crying overhead. a secret lagoon with crystal blue waters & flourishing flora on all sides. the shifting golden dunes of a vast beach, meeting the endless blue of the sea. the banks of a swift, rocky river cutting through a vibrant forest. a lodge / cabin in the middle of the woods, seemingly unoccupied for years. a cluttered camping site deep in the middle of a national forest. the edge of a marsh, thick with reeds & the distant calls of unseen birds. the tranquil, glassy surface of a mountain lake reflecting a clear blue sky. a hidden clearing bathed in dappled light, exuding the scent of damp earth. a fork in the hiking trail, each path offering different adventures. a foggy moor where the land rolls endlessly beneath a grey, heavy sky. the deck of a cozy cottage bathed in sunlight & blooming flowers. a grove of ancient trees, their roots exposed & twisted like veins in the earth.

[ 4. ] — SHOPS & ENTERTAINMENT :

a warm, dimly lit antique shop overflowing with forgotten treasures. the too - cheery gift shop near the front entrance of a hospital. a comic book store sporting bright posters & dozens of tradable goods. amid long aisles lined with thrifted goods at the local consignment store. a cluttered, cozy bookstore smelling of old paper & freshly brewed tea. the incense-heavy interior of a well maintained smoke shop. the warmth of a small-town bakery, pastries piled high in the display case. backstage, the space cluttered with costumes, props, & nervous energy. a shop in an unfamiliar country, every label written in a foreign language. the chilled interior of an ice cream parlor offering refuge on a hot day. under the harsh yellow lights of the only liquor store that was open at 2am. a tourist - trap shop full of cheesy knick-knacks catered to travelers. an unassuming corner shop concealing the entrance to an exclusive club. a vibrant flower market overflowing with fragrant blooms & vendors' chatter. under the flashing lights of a dance club, bass thrumming through the floor. the hushed, reverent interior of a grand theater just before the curtain rises. a pop - up carnival at night, rides whirling & distant screams mixing with music. a karaoke lounge drenched in LED's, lyrics scrolling across a bright screen. the rewards counter of an arcade, stacked wall-to-wall with countless prizes. a classy high - rise rooftop bar with countless city lights sprawling beneath. a brightly lit arcade alive with the sounds of chimes, explosions & laughter. the neon - drenched interior of a retro - themed diner with a jukebox playing old hits. a casino floor buzzing with noise; slot machines chiming, cards shuffling. the open air of a summer music festival, crowd gathered under the twilight. a classic, dimly lit bowling alley- the crash of pins echoing down the lanes. the back row of a mostly - empty movie theatre right as the lights go dark.

[givres]

what do they value more, loyalty or truth? && do they believe in forgiveness? for themselves? in others? for abel & olruggio !

what do they value more, loyalty or truth?

absurd, isn't it, for a turk to choose the truth. peddling shinra's lies is what keeps the lights on, after all. he's a professional. maybe lying is the wrong word. the turks don't tell lies - except sometimes as a form of torture - they just. . . omit certain truths. in a suit as black as the reports he submitted became, abel learned to speak in riddles. they all did, sometimes even amongst themselves. they shared half - truths over drinks and censored themselves with drags of a cigarette. things were the same with his sister. turks operate on a need - to - know - basis, and sometimes what abel needed to know, caia didn't. and vice versa. in the beginning, he'd made a point of sharing with her anyway, the one and only place he let his tongue loose. this died quickly. caia said nothing of her own work. it was clear she'd chosen the path of loyalty. escort missions were excruciating. having to hide his own agenda from young, over - eager SOLDIERs, who hadn't yet had a healthy fear of the suits instilled in them. bile rising in his throat as he croaked out "that's classified," repeating it like a mantra as the armoured children started to pry. the readiness with which they accepted such non - answers made him sicker still. the blind faith in the SOLDIER programme, in shinra, never failed to disturb him. not when he knew what they were really fighting for. after all, what did his loyalty ever do for him except slick his hands with blood? what did he have to show for it except a gag around his mouth? where would it lead him but an unmarked grave? sometimes, abel told himself that if he could go back, he would change things. leave his sister in the hands of the turks, where she wanted needed to be - but he would not accept their offer. hah. offer. he knew better now. shinra did not make suggestions, only demands. had he refused, he'd most likely be treated to a bullet between his eyes. worth it. he'd shed his loyalty any day, if it meant he could go out with his fingerprints intact and his tongue in his mouth.

do they believe in forgiveness? for themselves? in others?

forgiveness comes to olruggio like breathing. an unfortunate side effect of his tendency to look for the good in others, this alone should disqualify him from his duties as watchful eye. he is simply unable to remain objective. perhaps his forgiveness of qifrey is an extreme example. dozens of sins absolved over the years without a second thought - some big, some small. many without explanation. a cold shoulder. a stolen map. conjuring ink on his favourite shirt. their cap ornaments, switched while he slept by the tower of tomes. a sudden disappearance. an unceremonious return. a meal made too spicy for olly. the unanticipated arrival of a new apprentice. a million spurned advances. and those are just the moments olruggio gets to keep. caught in this never - ending cycle of his own design, the outcome never changes. discovery, confrontation, forgiveness. no matter what. of course, this grace doesn't just extend to his closest friend. olruggio holds no grudges. not towards the village chief, for trading him in at the great hall for adult bodies to replace those lost in nauz. not towards his parents. not towards whatever genius signed off on him tagging along on that work trip. not towards those who copy his work, nor his most difficult clients. it simply isn't in his nature. it takes the better part of two decades to understand that he, too, can be forgiven. looking down at the girls, barely even chest - height on him and scarcely older than he was at the time, it becomes clear to him. he would never put a life in their hands, no matter how capable they were. ( there are no sins to be forgiven, of course - but progress is progress. )

[givres]

name: olruggio of the torch.

aka: olly, master olly, "the star of ghodrey", predis olruggio.

age: 30ish.

birthday: september 20th.

gender: trans man. he / him.

orientation: bisexual, but with a strong preference for men. he lives not unlike a monk anyhow. it's not really relevant. not interested, he says, i've no time. too many deadlines. (like a liar)

occupation: contraptionist by trade. watchful eye of qifrey's atelier.

location: naakiwan downs, zozah.

appearance. standing at around 5'7", olruggio is on the shorter end of average – though you'd be forgiven for thinking him even smaller. the witch's posture is appalling, the weight of his thick, velvet cloak causing a hunch which is only deepened by the near - permanent crick in his neck, and the knots in his back. aside from this, he's fairly broad, though softening in the middle with age and neglect (and the master of the atelier's cooking). his hair is black, soft and straight but quite unruly – falling in front of his eyes without his cap to keep it contained. when visible, olruggio's eyes are a deep indigo, and tired. years upon years of over - working, under - sleeping have left them punctuated by deep, dark bags. his eyelashes are dark and full, his nose straight and pointed, and his thin lips are framed by a short, yet unkempt beard ( a necessary evil to be taken seriously by clients and apprentices alike – a clean shave takes years off of him ). olruggio's work leaves him near - permanently ink - stained, with blackened fingertips and the occasional smudge on his brow and cheeks. beneath the ink hides a smattering of scars - small, almost cigarette - like burns on his fingers, little cuts on his palms, scalds and scratches that snake below his sleeves. a craftman's injuries. deeper still, a patch on his chest where hair no longer grows, singed off years ago, skin impossibly pink against the otherwise swirling black.

background: some people are born gifted, and some are moulded that way. perhaps, if olruggio came up beneath the waves of the great hall, safeguarded by the sea, or in the bustling, civilized streets of kahln, the fates would not have smiled his way, and he would have remained unremarkable forever. sometimes, he thinks, that would be preferable. but then, wouldn't the same excellence come to every child born of ghodrey?

ghodrey, a witch city nestled in the mountainous north of the zozah peninsula, wasn't exactly unlivable - in fact, it was far more hospitable than the unknowing settlements that surrounded it ( and they still prospered with magical assistance ) - but the bitter cold and never - ending white ( and the beasts that prowled within it ) certainly made things more challenging. in the great hall, a child's first spell was usually something rudimentary: a droplet of water, maybe a wobbly pyreball that sputtered out in seconds. in ghodrey, children learned first to walk, and then to snow - walk. a levitation spell with more signs than recommended for a beginner, but one wholly necessary to traverse ghodrey's icy landscape. efficiently, at least.

even if olruggio hadn't arrived on this earth with a natural curiosity and a steady hand. if his idea of play wasn't prying his parents' contraptions apart. if olruggio didn't bleed conjuring ink and speak fluently in signs and seals - the sigils of fire and light and levitation would have been seared into his brain from birth either way. for survival. perhaps, had olruggio branched out, allowed his passion and inquisitive nature to carry him toward less practical spells, his star would have waned. it was his need to be useful, to help, to fulfill his duties as a witch of the north that kept his fire burning hotter, longer, brighter.

witches talk. word spread fast of ghodrey's wunderkind, not yet an apprentice, but capable of wielding infernos with ease. visitors came from across the continent just to see him. they studied his spellwork in awe - nothing they themselves were incapable of, but such competence from a masterless boy under ten was unheard of. many offered to take him on as an apprentice, to take him to the great hall or even further out, but his community wouldn't hear of it. olruggio would stay in ghodrey, where he was needed.

he hadn't even earned the sincerity of the shield when the adults asked him to accompany them to nauz. if those outside of their world saw him cast, his beautiful mind would be wiped completely, too immersed in magic from day one to avoid a trip to adanlee. olruggio must have been something really special, he thought, to be worth the risk.

such outings were the duty of every witch, required by law to assist in the nearby settlements annually, to use their secrets and gifts for the good of humanity. the harsh conditions of the north meant the witches of ghodrey took on this responsibility tenfold. it was a routine trip, an opportunity to practice mundane, yet practical spells, such as beast - warding.

the weather had other ideas. snow - blind and stranded in the blistering cold, olly and the adult witches already struggled to keep themselves and the civilians warm and safe amidst the freak blizzard that was suddenly upon them.

then the beast came. stiff with the cold, exhausted from their journey, and without a beast - ward tower in sight, they were sitting ducks. not nearly enough ink between them, palm quires half empty, wasted on comfort, pages still burning pyreballs in the snow. olruggio remembers the incident in the flashes he sees in his dreams. red - and - white all around. a flash of white teeth. hot, stinking breath. the scrape of mostly dry wands on parchment. the near - religious faith in the townsfolk's eyes. the witches will save us. the acrid smell of burning hair. flames bursting from the seal and licking his fingers. the first witch to fall; a friend of his father's. a child's screams filling the air. his own throat raw.

it was only a month after he and the surviving witches returned to ghodrey that its "star" was unceremoniously snuffed out. it's for your own good, son. nothing can hurt you under the sea. they framed it as an opportunity, and olruggio supposed there was some truth to that. being transferred to the great hall, the witches' stronghold, was nothing to sniff at. but young as he was, he wasn't stupid. he overheard the negotiations. the community that fought so hard to keep him, who held him in such high regard, were trading him away for more manpower. no doubt the way he blubbered and wailed as he stumbled back home and how the chill of snow at his feet sometimes rendered him near - catatonic had something to do with it. ghodrey's star had fallen, and they didn't want him anymore.

it was there, in the great hall, as his elders traded him like cattle, that something caught his eye. snow underwater? no, a boy. white as snow from the tip of his hair to the hem of his cloak. olly watched as the boy rounded a corner, slipped through a doorway, and plunged himself straight into the ocean.

he couldn't handle any more blood on his conscience.

after a brief stint as a lifeguard ( and a human hairdryer ), and several weeks of bickering and cold shoulders from the snow - boy - qifrey - the two eventually became close friends. best friends. olruggio would come to devote himself to qifrey and his whims, often sneaking out of the great hall together. later, after the pair earned permission to explore together, he would take qifrey to the naakiwan downs, where he'd discovered a set of ruins during practical training. years later, the pair would build an atelier in that very spot.

at present, olruggio has built quite the name for himself as a contraptionist and spellmaker, finally living up to the reputation he'd gained as a child. with a slew of regular clients ( the vast majority being nobles ), the witch is never short of work - but is often short on time. to make up for his struggles with deadlines, olruggio often pulls all - nighters, refusing to eat, sleep or wash until a project is complete. as if his workload doesn't keep him busy enough, he's taken on a second responsibility: to be the watchful eye of qifrey's atelier. between commissions and personal projects, olly drafts and submits the occasional report on the relationships between qifrey and his apprentices, and the - day - to - day goings on at the atelier. should he have been allowed to take on this position? probably not. olruggio would do anything qifrey asked, write anything qifrey told him to.

then again, as far as olruggio recalls, nothing has ever been worth reporting on.

personality: a rough - spoken, blunt man, who on first impression comes across rather harsh. however, this couldn't be further from the truth. olruggio is as warm as his magic - a talent he uses only for kindness, his creations designed to provide comfort and joy. he is especially kind towards qifrey and his apprentices, creating magical items just for them, and giving into their every whim. when working with clients on location, he often sneaks away from the nobles to assist the common people with practical magic. despite all this, he gets embarrassed easily - getting flustered when others point out his efforts ( though he does like the praise deep down ).

though he was a young child during the incident in nauz, he still carries a lot of guilt over his inability to save everyone, and feels very much responsible for the lives of the people around him. in some cases, this causes him to question the rules surrounding what is and isn't forbidden.

his bleeding heart doesn't just extend to living creatures. given the right set of circumstances, olruggio can feel pity even for inanimate objects. he is selfless - described as a child as "too nice for his own good" - and unwaveringly devoted to his loved ones (qifrey specifically). he truly is the sky's kindest, most radiant star.

pinterest.

[givres]

i'm going to be posting some character bios over the next couple of days so . sorry if that clogs up anyone's feed a bit! i just have a hell of a lot more to say and a lot more context to give than i could in my carrd

[gloomglimmer]

›        FIRST   LINE   PROMPTS       

"You’re   not   on   the   list."

"Need   a   light?"

"You   dropped   this."

"Is   that   your   drink   or   mine?"

"You're   late."

"I   thought   you'd   be   taller."

"You   always   stare   like   that?"

"They   told   me   not   to   trust   you."

"I   wasn’t   expecting   you."

"You   clean   up   well."

"You   look   lost."

"Haven’t   we   met?"

"Not   what   I   imagined."

"Are   you   following   me?"

"You’re   not   from   around   here."

"You’ve   got   something   on   your   cheek."

"Mind   if   I   cut   in?"

"You're   sitting   in   my   seat."

"I   was   warned   about   you."

"That’s   a   dangerous   smile."

"This   seat   taken?"

"You're   the   distraction."

"Why   are   you   looking   at   me   like   that?"

"You're   early."

"You're   late   on   purpose."

"First   time   here?"

"Try   the   champagne."

"That   color   suits   you."

"You're   exactly   how   I   pictured   you."

"We’re   not   supposed   to   talk."

"We   shouldn’t   be   seen   together."

"Do   I   know   you?"

"That   watch   doesn’t   match   your   suit."

"You’re   not   very   good   at   hiding."

"Someone’s   been   asking   about   you."

"Thought   you’d   never   show."

"You   have   good   taste   in   music."

"Don't   turn   around."

"Guess   we’re   partners   now."

"You   shouldn’t   be   here."

"Do   you   believe   in   fate?"

"You’re   late.   I   almost   left."

"That’s   my   drink."

"I   think   you’re   in   the   wrong   place."

"Your   cover’s   slipping."

"Tell   me   that   wasn’t   on   purpose."

"Are   you   going   to   apologize?"

"Care   to   dance?"

"That’s   quite   an   entrance."

"You   always   this   bold?"

"I’ve   heard   of   you."

"You’re   not   easy   to   find."

"You   look   nervous."

"Sit.   Please."

"You   read   the   file?"

"You   shouldn’t   trust   me."

"Nice   aim."

"We   weren’t   supposed   to   meet   yet."

"You   took   your   time."

"So,   you’re   the   infamous   one."

"Someone's   been   watching   me."

"Your   timing’s   suspicious."

"You   look   like   trouble."

"That’s   a   nice   trick."

"I’ve   been   looking   for   you."

"Are   you   hurt?"

"They   didn’t   say   you’d   be   charming."

"You   always   arrive   like   this?"

"That’s   classified."

"Don’t   trust   the   bartender."

"You're   bleeding."

"You   have   five   minutes."

"Where’s   your   partner?"

"I   wasn’t   briefed   on   you."

"You   have   terrible   timing."

"I   wasn’t   expecting   company."

"I   thought   you   were   a   myth."

"You   look   bored."

"I   saw   you   watching   me."

"You're   not   like   the   others."

"So,   you're   the   backup?"

"Try   not   to   get   killed."

"That's   a   dangerous   dress."

"You   don't   belong   here."

"We   meet   at   last."

"That’s   not   your   real   name."

"You   weren’t   followed,   right?"

"We’ve   never   met.   Officially."

"Don’t   say   my   name."

"Is   this   seat   cursed   too?"

"No   sudden   moves."

"We’re   alone   now."

"Take   off   the   mask."

"I   know   what   you   did."

"Who   let   you   in?"

"You’re   prettier   in   person."

"You’re   not   what   I   expected."

"You   shouldn’t   smile   like   that."

"Don’t   flatter   yourself."

"What   took   you   so   long?"

[5anctified]

» HOUNDS OF LOVE. sentence prompts using lyrics from kate bush's 1985 album, hounds of love. change as you see fit.

it doesn’t hurt me.

do you wanna feel how it feels?

do you wanna know that it doesn't hurt me?

do you wanna hear about the deal i’m making?

it’s you and me.

i’d make a deal with god and i’d get him to swap our places.

if only i could...

you don't want to hurt me.

see how deep the bullet lies.

i’m tearing you asunder.

we both matter, don’t we?

you won't be unhappy.

let me steal this moment from you now.

it's in the trees! it's coming!

i’ve always been a coward.

i don’t know what’s good for me.

it’s coming for me through the trees.

help me, someone, help me, please!

i found a fox caught by dogs.

i’m ashamed of running away from nothing real.

don't let me go, hold me down.

do you know what i really need?

you never understood me. you never really tried.

what was the question?

i bury it and forget.

every time it rains, you’re here in my head.

i just know that something good is gonna happen.

i can't hide you from the government

i can’t keep my eyes open.

wish i had my radio. i’d tune into some friendly voices talking about stupid things.

let me be weak, let me sleep.

take me deeper and deeper.

there's something moving under the ice.

stop that lying and sleeping in bed; get up!

don't you know you've kept him waiting?

i question your innocence.

i should have been home hours ago.

you don't hear what i'm saying to you.

there’s a ghost in our home just watching you without me.

don't ignore me.

let me in and don’t be long.

i know your face well.

this moment in time, it doesn't belong to you.

never say goodbye.

never let me go.

there's something bright, traveling fast.

i'd love to hold you now.

do you know what? i love you better now.

[zachrp]

ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ SYMBOL HEADCANON QUESTIONS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.

EVERYDAY LIFE / DOMESTIC

📋 : how organized is your muse?

✅ : what do they pretend to have together that they don't?

🕰️ : what time do they naturally wake up when no one needs them?

☕ : what's their morning ritual, and what happens when it's disrupted?

🧺 : how often do they do laundry?

🪞 : do they look at themselves in mirrors, or avoid them? why?

🍽️ : do they eat to survive, for pleasure, or as comfort?

🏠 : what part of their living space reflects them the most?

🌱 : do they keep plants, and are those plants alive?

🧼 : what's something they're weirdly particular about being clean?

📺 : what do they put on when they don't want to think?

SOCIALIZATION / CONNECTION

🗣️ : are they better one-on-one, or in groups?

📱 : do they text back immediately, or let messages rot?

🫥 : how often do they pretend to be fine to keep the peace?

🎭 : how different are they with strangers versus people they trust?

🤝 : do they make friends easily, or accidentally?

🧠 : what do they assume people think about them?

🌘 : how hard is it to really know them?

🎉 : do they enjoy social events, or endure them?

🪑 : are they the type to leave early without saying goodbye?

INTROSPECT / INTERNAL LANDSCAPE

🕵️‍♀️ : how often does your muse think about death?

🧩 : what part of themselves do they not understand yet?

🫀 : what emotion scares them the most?

👣 : do they believe they deserve good things?

🧱 : what walls are they aware of building? which ones are they not aware of?

🕳️ : what do they spiral about at night?

📉 : what's their most common self-criticism?

💀 : do they trust their own memories?

🌊 : what emotion do they drown in when they're alone?

PERSONAL / DEEP / TRAUMA-ADJACENT

🩸 : what wound shaped them the most, even if they won't admit it?

🔥 : what moment do they replay when they're ashamed?

🧷 : who failed them first?

🕯️ : what do they grieve that no one else sees as a loss?

🪤 : what pattern do they keep falling back into?

🧨 : what pushes them past the point of restraint?

🧬 : what did they inherit emotionally from their caregivers?

🕶 : what lie do they tell themselves to survive?

🩹 : what actually helps them heal, even if it's unhealthy?

HABITS / VICES / COPING

🚬 : what vice do they justify the most?

🍺 : do they drink to socialize, numb, or celebrate?

💊 : what's their relationship with substances, past or present?

🏃 : do they move their body to feel alive or to punish it?

🛏️ : how do they sleep when things are bad?

🎧 : what kind of music gets them through the worst days?

🖊️ : do they write things down or let thoughts rot in their head?

☔️ : do they intellectualize pain instead of feeling it?

🕳️ : what habit would unravel them if taken away?

SEXUALITY / INTIMACY

🫠 : is it easy for them to get turned on, or do they need emotional safety first?

💞 : do they separate sex and feelings, or blur them dangerously?

🛑 : what's an immediate turn-off for them?

🔥 : do they crave intensity or stability?

🤲 : do they like being in control, or giving it up?

🪶 : are they gentle with people they desire?

🍒 : how do they feel about their own body during intimacy?

🎱 : what do they need to feel wanted?

🔒 : do they guard intimacy, or give it too freely?

💔 : have they ever used sex to avoid something?

MORALITY / CHOICES

⚖️ : what line will they never cross?

🩶 : what line have they already crossed and justified? or regret?

🧭 : do they believe they're a good person?

🔪 : what would they do if survival demanded cruelty?

🪙 : what do they value more, loyalty or truth?

🚪 : who would they abandon if forced to choose?

🕊️ : do they believe in forgiveness? for themselves? in others?

🧨 : what would make them snap permanently?

📜 : what promise do they regret making?

🪦 : what hill would they die on?