#also definitely taxidermied

[pplatonic]

dollar store bag embroidery to put on my jacket . i like doing it on dollar store bags bc u get a nice snack with it plus u were gonna throw out that bag eventually anyway

if you cant tell i did taxidermy first thats why she looks bad lol

i wanna do the rest of the girls but at a later date. probs when the concept aalbum is done bc i have a lot more not tptm embroidery to do in the meantime lol

[angronsjewelbeetle]

I'd like you all to meet Kav! He/Him.

Kav is a pre-Heresy Emperor's Child Apothecary. He's generally pretty friendly, though he has a bit of a short fuse and isn't afraid to stand up for himself or his friends. He is sensitive to smell and loves to sing to his plants, which he adores. He also likes to preen his friends and brothers. He enjoys creating elaborate hairstyles and is known for always wearing lipstick and bright eyeshadow when out of his armour, even going as far to decorate the edges of his scar with it (just for funsies :))

No-one really knows how he lost his eye - he doesn't really like to talk about it, but it's speculated he lost it in battle.

Kav falls to Nurgle in the end, and ultimately becomes one with his beloved plants, wandering peacefully to spread his saplings and take care of dying plant life, collecting many rare and/or poisonous flora along the way. (Art under the cut)

He shaved part of his head because his littler branches kept getting caught in his hair and snapping off :/

(And it was a pain to untangle >:v)

[subparcarrion]

Wip

[starthelostboys]

i could see marko getting into making those taxidermy shadow box bugs, but he doesn’t realize that you can like, buy the bugs to use in the art so he kills bugs himself and uses those

[crabs-nonsense]

My mom once emailed the museum we were going to asking about how they made taxidermy because she's afraid of it and thought learning about it might make it less scary. The guy who did all the taxidermy stuff there gave the two of us a tour of a bunch of behind the scenes stuff while we were there of how he does the taxidermy and where storage stuff is.

Literally the worst that happens if you contact people is you get no answer or are told they can't help you. And sometimes you get a really cool behind the scenes tour that no one else gets and learn a bunch of new stuff and it's more memorable that the rest of the museum trip.

[aro-tarot]

Here’s some pictures of the framed bat that I got yesterday. I have him hanging with my decks in one of my corner cabinets. I keep my decks organized in categories, but this one is kind of overflowing, so I’ll probably move stuff around sometime soon. I have a lot of tarot and oracle decks lol

Since he’s a bat with the purple velvety background, I’ve named him Astarion 😊

Bonus is the first taxidermy piece that I’ve gotten which was earlier this year. That’s Lord Archibald, Archie for short.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Does Kruger ever have second thoughts about köing and his sister? Like a "hmmm hopefully he doesn't lock her in a bunker or taxidermy's her, maybe I should check in occasionally. Very occasionally."

Sometimes...he knows that Konig is a fucking weirdo who wants nothing more but to keep you locked up in his house and probably do some even weird shit like building a shrine out of your panties...but not like your brother cares enough. Sometimes Krueger kinda wants to check up on you - so he will send you a drunk message once in a blue moon, you would probably tell him to fuck off and die, and then he would forget about your existence for another month. Maybe even more because, no, he doesn't care about his dumb friend and his dumb sister who suddenly started dating him because she is stupid and definitely not because his best friend is keeping her hostage. It's not like Konig is that weird...well, he kinda doesn't allow you to leave without him, he is always trying to force himself in social situations between you and your friends. He is also still stealing your stuff and would literally jerk off with your underwear in front of you - if anything, he would ask you to give it to him, so he could use it...and yet, he is somewhat endearing. He is adorable, somewhat, and he is paying you enough money and gives you just enough gifts. He is providing you with everything and takes you out whenever he is not on deployment - you have to admit that Konig is nice, despite everything. You have to admit that being his wife allows you to do things you've never done before. You send your annoying ass manager to hell when they tried to harass you about the job again - and you can finally tell annoying men in pubs to fuck off before your husband would pull up and kill them. You can finally allow yourself to live a carefree life without anyone telling you that it's not right...and god, sometimes you thank Krueger for introducing the two of you. You'd never approach a guy like Konig on your own, and, knowing him, he'd rather kidnap you than try to get in your pants via normal means...so your asshole of a brother is finally useful.

[ohdeerfully]

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours 

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You loved antique shopping. 

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover. 

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle. 

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke. 

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant. 

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing,  the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

[glitchyvoice]

<33

i always like pointing out the i/me side of his pronoun usage cuz its something i almost NEVER see pointed out when ppl explain him and its literally such an interesting part of his character, webber and dst lore as a whole is so detailed and one of those ones that gets super fun to study when u start paying attention to little things like silly dialogue snippets, theres a lot of fun details and character traits you can pick up on!!

it honestly is such a fun game, its one of those ones i wish i could play more but. public lobbies scare me JDJSJD

i hope u enjoy the game!!

How would your narilamb shitten look like?

Also can we get Webber design? He always was a honorary shitten to me, love the freaky little guy and lamb would definitely adopt him

WELL AT LAST I FIND MYSELF FORCED TO ENTERTAIN THE IDEA OF A SHITTEN ASUDNAMSDLKD

Here chu go!

I doodled them for funsies a while while WHILE back for an ask but actually liked the design so now we have a more fleshed out version yall are very welcome USNSMAKDD

Anyways this is Azzy u cannot tell whether hes a menace or not until they do smtng Hes a sweetheart to their parents tho and they love him very much <3

AS FOR WEBBER I do agree he is an Honorary Shitten LMAO

Heres my version of him! :D

TRIED BASING HIM ON HIS DST'S Counterpart so heres a few headcanons under the cut!

- I like to think that he refers to himself as we/us cuz of the lil spider friends that follow him around at all times - He loves hanging around adults the most and tries to be as helpful as he can to them on their duties! - Despite willing to help others, Webber may sometimes cause troubles for stealing things to build strange machineries with or simply to try and- eat them. Hes quite the hungry lil fella - Speaks in an ancient language which only Shamura is fluent in, so not many are able to understand him (aside from Lamb, who has mind reading powers). He is being taught sign language for this reason - If it ever comes to this scenario and Webber finds himself in the woods, I like to think that he would befriend the spider monsters and play with them. So its Lambert frantically looking around for Webber and finding him hanging upside down at Silk Cradle while laughing with his new monster-spider friends xD - He hangs around the cemetery sometimes to go bone-hunting with his lil spiders and also to make some company to Hermer (my undertaker, the bear yall see in the doodles ILL FINISH HIS DESIGN EVENTUALLY-)

Hopefully one day Ill show how he came to be at the cult, I like to think it was a total accident LMAO

OH and he would definitely be friends with Azzy when older, I imagine them as siblings of sorts teehee <3

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (3)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

Did I already post today? Yes. Did I also post two chapters of Modern Steve in 80s Hawkins today? Yes. I am just incredibly productive today, who knows when it's gonna happen again lol

Anyway, finally! The next B-Side! This bitch has been stewing my guys, so I hope you enjoy it lol

There are two memes at the very end of this one, so definitely stick around

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't 😘

--------

For four weeks, Eddie feels himself losing his mind. He finds gifts in his locker every other day, and he's convinced they're from Steve Harrington. He now has a taxidermied bat, a fancy-looking vial with a skull and crossbones embossed in the glass and filled with mysterious liquid, an actual human skull that Eddie immediately incorporates into his next campaign, and a spider. An actual spider. A live spider that, after a little research, he learns is a fucking Black Widow that seems unnaturally friendly.

Eddie can't stress that part enough. Multiple people have mistaken the spider for an intricate vest patch because it just sits perfectly still over his chest pocket. It only moves to rub its head against Eddie's fingers whenever his hand passes over it, and even then it's careful to avoid hurting him with its pincers.

He names her Nox.

Those aren't the only gifts he's received, but they're the most notable, and Eddie is overwhelmed and flustered by the positive attention he's suddenly receiving.

The other thing driving him crazy is Pubert Addams, a guy Eddie had never paid much attention to before but now considers his mortal enemy. He's convinced Pubert is, at worst, potentially abusive or, at best, delusional and taking advantage of Steve's kindness and inability to brutally turn him down. Or maybe Eddie is the crazy one; he doesn't actually know. Whichever it is, Eddie is ready to take the very nice dagger he now has (gift number 15; yes, Eddie has been counting) and stab him with it.

Because he can't get more than two minutes alone with Steve before Pubert appears out of nowhere. Eddie runs into Steve in the hall while everyone else is in class? Pubert shows up with a hall pass two seconds later and literally waltzes Steve away from him. Eddie finds Steve camped out in the library during study hall? Pubert materializes in the chair next to Steve before Eddie can sit down, leaning far too close as he asks Steve to explain something from their shared Gothic Literature class. Eddie, by some miracle, is behind Steve in the lunch line (and he calls this a miracle because Steve always brings his lunch in a pink box with black skulls, which Eddie considers incredibly brave of him to carry around like it's nothing)? Before Eddie can do more than say hi and get a blinding smile in return, Pubert fucking Addams shows up and drags Steve away while promising to share his lunch.

Eddie is just about to lose the last shred of patience he's struggling to maintain when Steve finds him. Ironically, it's the same bathroom where they first talked, the one with mysterious mold growing in the corner that Eddie is convinced is some new species. It's the only bathroom with a busted smoke detector, and Eddie goes there to get high during his free period.

He's halfway through a joint, smoke curling around him as he sits on the sink counter and tries not to think about what else has been there, when the door swings open, Steve walks in, and Eddie chokes on his inhale.

"Don't die like this," Steve says, stepping closer and patting Eddie's back like they know each other, "It's no fun."

Eddie finally gets himself under control, taking a deep breath and wincing at the way his lungs burn. "No worries," he croaks out, regretting the departure of Steve's hand on his back. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you plan to use this bathroom."

"As curious as I am about the bacteria teeming on these toilet seats, no." Steve sounds genuine, like he really does want to swab the toilet seats and see what grows. Instead, he places his bag on the sink and pulls out a familiar vial with a familiar skull and crossbones. "I just came to drink."

"Oh?" Eddie says, leaning forward with a grin. He looks Steve up and down, taking in the pale blue sweater vest and immaculately pressed jeans. "You don't look the drinking type, Stevie."

Steve hums, popping the cork out of the vial and taking a swig from it. "This isn't exactly hard stuff," he says after he swallows, distracted enough that Eddie thinks he misses his eyes lingering on Steve's throat as it bobs.

"Just beer then?"

"What?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie like he's delusional. "No, it's cyanide and vinegar."

He says it with such conviction that Eddie believes him despite knowing cyanide is poison. "Metal," he says, looking away to take another drag of his joint as he struggles to break through his own awkwardness and hold a conversation that will somehow sweep Steve off his feet and make him forget all about Pubert Addams.

Before he can think of something clever and smooth and funny, Steve leans close and raises a hand to his chest. Eddie is about to warn him that Nox is, in fact, real when the spider scuttles onto Steve's fingers and settles in his palm. She does a little up-and-down motion, circles in his hand twice, and rubs her head against his wrist. "You've been taking good care of her," Steve says.

"Uh, yeah. How is she not biting you right now?" Eddie asks, remembering all the times Nox has warningly snapped at others who tried to touch her.

Steve snorts and allows Nox to return to her spot on Eddie's vest. "I raised her," he says, his tone casual like he isn't admitting to showering Eddie with inexplicable gifts for the past four weeks, "of course, she won't bite me."

"So, it has been you," Eddie replies, wanting to hear it from Steve himself.

With a soft hum, Steve takes another sip from his bottle. "Who else would it have been?"

Eddie licks his lips, takes another drag of his joint to brace himself, and hops off the counter. "So, uh, does that mean you li--"

Before the rest of the question can be asked, the bathroom door swings open again, and Eddie feels his eye twitch as Pubert Addams frowns at them. "So, this is where you were," he says, walking over to Steve and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I told you I was going to the bathroom," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he stuffs the vial back into his bag.

Pubert looks Eddie over, a derisive huff escaping him as he dismisses Eddie and looks at Steve. "On the other side of the school? Really?" he asks, and Eddie would be overthinking what that means if he weren't sure his veins were about to burst.

"We were talking, you know," Eddie says, gaining Pubert's attention again. Steve looks at him, too, his eyes a little brighter.

"I'm sure," Pubert replies, rolling his eyes as he takes Steve's bag. "And now we're leaving." With that, he leads Steve out of the bathroom, the door swinging shut before Steve can do more than smile apologetically and wave.

Anger surges through Eddie, and the shaky drag he takes to finish off his joint does absolutely nothing to soothe it.

He's going to kill Pubert Addams.

--------

Funnily enough, Steve's mother doesn't learn about his crush until he's five weeks into it. When Debbie finally does discover the crush, it's because she walks in on Fester and Steve decorating homemade cookies shaped like anatomically correct hearts. She pauses in the doorway, looking between the two covered in flour and raspberry jam, and asks, "What on earth is going on here?"

Steve looks up, sees this as his chance to finally tell Debbie, and smiles brightly at her. "I'm in love, Mother. He's allergic to raspberry, and Father agreed to help me make him cookies with raspberry filling, so he can feel the same breathlessness I do when I see him," he explains, using his thumb to wipe raspberry jam off his cheek.

Debbie stares at him for a few seconds before looking at Fester. "How long have you known?" she asks.

"Five weeks," Fester admits, looking apologetic. "I wanted to tell you, Pumpkin! But Steve asked me not to so he could tell you himself."

She sighs and walks over to the island, sitting on the edge of a stool and taking one of the cookies for herself. She bites off a pulmonary vein, looking thoughtful as she chews. "I must admit, these are damn good cookies," she finally says, taking one more bite before passing it to Fester to finish. "Tell me about him."

And Steve does. He gushes about Eddie for a solid hour without taking a single breath, spilling everything he's seen Eddie do and how he's reacted to all of Steve's gifts and how he gets so obviously jealous when Pubert butts into their conversations. He tells Debbie about Eddie not screaming when he saw Nox, about him selling drugs, and about his interest in music. Steve laments his hair but eagerly describes the treatment routine he already has in mind.

By the time he's done, the cookies are decorated and his mother's expression has grown a little pained. "Steve, darling, come with me," she says, getting up from the chair and leading him out of the kitchen while Fester starts to clean up.

Steve waits until Debbie has brought him to her spare room to ask, "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, did you remember my rules about crushes?"

"Yeah. I've talked to him a lot."

Debbie smiles and brings Steve over to the bed, sitting him down and straightening his hair before perching next to him. "Then, you're not in trouble, but you've been going about this all wrong, dear."

"Should I tell Pubert to stop making Eddie jealous?"

"Absolutely not," Debbie says, shaking her head firmly. "In fact, he could try harder. Nothing gets to a man like someone he can't have, especially if he thinks they're in distress."

Steve blinks, frowning slightly as he tries to figure out where, exactly, he's gone wrong. Eddie seems perfectly enamored with him, after all, and Pubert's goading is encouraging his affections, which is the only reason Steve has allowed it to continue. "Did I give him a live spider too soon?" Steve asks, figuring that's the problem here.

"No, that's not...," Debbie trails off, mutters something about Fester being an idiot, and clears her throat. "Steve, your father is the last person you should approach for love advice."

"But...you agreed to marry him, so he must have done something right," Steve says.

Debbie barks a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "I married your father for his money. I attempted to kill his entire family and only stopped when he promised to give me everything I asked for. I would hardly call him a casanova."

Steve nods along, smiling a little as she speaks. He's heard their great love affair many times, but he doesn't get tired of it. "But you actually love him anyway, right? Father says it's because he showered you with gifts. So, that's what I'm doing."

"I...do love your father," Debbie admits, sighing as though she doesn't know how that happened either. "But it's less because of his gifts and more because...he gave me the devotion I wanted. Anyway, if you learn anything from us, it should be that love comes second."

"What comes first?"

Debbie smiles, the expression positively devious, and Steve can't help returning it. "Obsession," she says, her shoulders rolling back some as pride fills her. "Occupy his every waking thought. Make yourself irresistible. Make him dream of you at night. Overwhelm him with desire until he simply must act on it."

"Oh," Steve says, thinking of how his father acts around Debbie and realizing that obsession never quite went away. But it's worked out well for them, and he knows his mother has experience with luring men into her arms. He nods once and asks, "So, what should I do?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Debbie says, her smile bright and her eyes filled with excitement. "You'll have Eddie falling to his knees before you in no time."

--------

Eddie didn't think it could get worse. He was already attracted to Steve, already distracted by every little movement.

He was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

Because here he is, his mouth dry and his palms sweaty and his cheeks warm because of Steve. He's not even doing anything. Well, that's not true. Steve is curling his tongue around a lollipop before sucking it into his mouth like he'll die without it. But it's more than that. It's the painted-on jeans that hug his legs; it's the pastel pink hoodie (with little bats on the cuffs) that rides up whenever Steve moves to show off a strip of skin just above his waistband; it's the way he finishes the lollipop and pulls out lipgloss, casually telling Pubert it's raspberry flavored as he puts it on.

Eddie swallows around the dryness in his mouth, gripping his locker door so tight that his knuckles turn white as he looks inside it. Sitting innocently on top of everything is a Tupperware container of cookies with raspberry filling (according to the label), and Eddie is ready to eat one just so he can die knowing what Steve's lips taste like.

That's not even the worst of it. The worst is that Steve transfers into Eddie's Music Theory class, smiling innocently while the teacher introduces him and then directs him to sit at the empty desk next to Eddie. When he's close, Eddie realizes Steve smells like cookies and cream ice cream, and he's tempted to ask if Steve smells like his favorite flavor on purpose.

The teacher saves him from the embarrassment of blurting out the question by announcing a project. The teacher then dooms him by telling everyone they're required to work with their desk neighbor. Eddie grips his pen tightly when the teacher tells them to spend the rest of their class time discussing the project.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention. When he looks over, Steve is leaning forward on his desk, chin propped in his hand as he looks at Eddie. "Want to come over to my place after school? To work on the project, I mean."

Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds, his tongue stuck in his throat. To his credit, Steve doesn't say anything or call Eddie out for staring at him. He just waits patiently with a little smile curling his lips. Eddie finally clears his throat, his voice coming out a little strained when he says, "Yeah, sure, sounds good. After school. Your place. Project."

Smooth. Real smooth.

When Steve just smiles wider and stretches his arms above his head, pulling his hoodie up, while suggesting they do the project on the evolution of heavy metal music, Eddie realizes he's probably going to die after school.

He can't wait.

-------

Tag List (I think there's still room for a few more people ^_^)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane, @steddieonbigboy, @ravenpainter, @read-write-thrive, @deadontheinside20, @yeahhhh-suga, @nectandra, @mogami13, @mx-jinxous, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @xoxoladyclara

@zaddipax, @dycte, @breealtair, @geekymagicalpotato, @janea-grill, @juliasthename-adhdismygame, @yikes-a-bee, @wayward-people, @st-fics, @disrespectedgoatman, @bipusssy, @cottagecorebutnaturescaresme, @nightowl14028018, @that-binchh, @your-confused-friend, @irethsune, @goosesister, @strawberryyyenthusiast, @irregular-child, @theverywest

And, finally, a two-for-one meme special because I couldn't decide which was funnier:

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Return to sender (dc x dp)

There was a box set right in front of his door. That was already pretty unusual, since Danny had just moved in, and and gotten done with boxes and he knew he hadn't had anything delivered here.

"Let's get you inside," Danny muttered as he got his key out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he picked it up and made his way in. He set the box down on the small kitchen table before grabbing a knife from the cabinet. He sat down and set to cutting the tape along the opening.

Peeling back the flaps, he took a peek at the contents only to be faced with a mound of yellow and black sparkly tissue paper, with a letter on top.

"What do we have here?" he muttered to himself, as he took the envelope out of the box.

Ripping it open, he got a small greeting card out. It had a yellow smiley face on it with the word "Smile!" printed above it. He flipped it open, and his eyes fixed on the printed text that said "Because today is your day!" Underneath it, written in chicken-scratch was written the following: "Looks like the bat has a new signal. At least mommy and daddy won't know how fast you replaced them!" it was signed with a simple J and yet another smiley face.

Danny frowned. "Weird."

Then, he peeled back the paper to find a taxidermied yellow-and-black bird Danny couldn't recognize, with its wings broken.

"This is definitely not mine," Danny said as he looked at the bird. Hopefully the real owner of this wasn't going to be too disappointed it had been this damaged in transit.

Danny took up the box to look at the delivery address, only to find that while this was for his apartment, the name of the receiver was marked as "Duke Marlon Thomas". It took one quick google search to find a phone number. Danny thanked whoever the sender was for including a middle name as it narrowed the search greatly. Dialling the number, Danny got up to get himself a glass of water. As he got the glass out, the line connected.

"Hello?" he heard a surprisingly young voice say. Well, assuming apparently made an ass of Danny. Maybe taxidermy really did appeal to all ages.

"Hi, my name's Danny. I think I got your package by accident."

"My package?" The guy on the other side asked, perplexdely.

"Yeah, a big box with a bird in it?" Danny answered. "Listen, man I'm sorry, I think the wings broke during transit, I swear it was already like that when I opened it-"

"What bird?" Now the guy sounded even more confused.

Well now, Danny was starting to get confused. "A taxidermied black-and-yellow bird?" Danny sounded out, then he grabbed the note and let his eyes go over it again. "There was a note too, I opened it, sorry about that." Danny winced, before trying for a joke to hopefully get the guy to soften up on him. "Whoever that J- friend is, he's got a weird sense of humour."

"J- friend?" the voice on the other side of the phone said. Guess, the joke hadn't gone over well, because his voice had gone tense.

"Yeah," Danny answered withholding a sigh, damn his curiosity. Opening other people' letters was not only a gross invasion of privacy but also a federal crime. Hopefully the guy wouldn't stay mad too long. "It was signed with the letter J and a smiley face."

"Whoever you are," said the guy, and the urgency in his voice had Danny straightening up. "You need to get out of here right now."

"What-?"

Just then, the door to Danny's apartment was blown open.

"I hope you're ready, birdie," a voice outside sounded, before a spindly man in a purple suit, green hair and sickly-looking skin walked in.

"Because you and me are going to have so much fun."

[pumpkinghostbunnyy]

Cod characters x gothic gf at creepmas

Merry Christmas! And for those that don't celebrate Christmas I hope you still have the best month, cookies for you all, ghost themed is the cookie id choose-🎃

Price🥃- now for this I'm thinking sugar daddy price with his spooky little bat (or brat🤭), I feel like he's a classic Christmas man but he'd absolutely buy her gothic baubles to dot about the tree among his classic ones, I also think he'd get a little smirk from the skull one and would send a picture to ghost. (He gets left of delivered but ghost secretly is smirking) He'd spoil the living shit out of you, I'm talking all the perfumes, gothic scents he could find on Etsy, he adores his princess, he's not the type of man who gives half arsed gifts she'd never use, no no he has it memorized, all the things you want.

Gaz🪽- like I've said previously he's most likely known his love a long time, but even if he's not I recon he's so just excepting that he's not bothered, his girls putting up a black Christmas tree? well let him help get the baubles from the attic princess. Once again he's not giving half arsed gifts no no he's giving the most beautiful taxidermy, hand crafted gothic jewellery box and if it has a ring in it well don't be surprised .

Soap🧼- (first of all I'm feral for this photo OMFG) soap will fight you for the decorations, no begon satan we're not having a black tree, fine the bat can go at the BACK of the tree, he'd get you silly gifts, a mothman tshirt(i love love love mothman i want the build a bear sooo bad) and would wrap it in some colourful wrapping paper to be funny.

Alejandro🌿- I recon he'd spend his Christmas happily cuddled up with you drinking bourbon, he'd get you a raven teddy bear and he'd get you jewellery, I think he likes a cosy chill kinda Christmas.

Ferah🌞- I recon she has a difficult relationship with her family so she spends Christmas with you alone, she'll roll her eyes as she sees them in the store but she buys you the matching hello kitty pjs you've seen couples wear all over Pinterest, she's also getting you a kuromi plushy (I believe her gf is absolutely a sunny bubbly hello kitty girly) .

Roach 🪳- (I'm adding roach to my list of characters because he's a cutie) bugs bugs bugs. You're getting taxidermy bugs and he's definitely a roach duh but he's also get you cozy stuff for your home, blankets and a roach teddy for when he's deployed.

Horangi🍻- (I'm also adding him to my characters) his gift is a date to the poison plant garden and yes his rose screams she's so excited, he's just smiling the entire time enamoured with you.

Keegan 🔥- he gets his girl roses, dark red roses and a ring and necklace set, I'm talking vampire looking living room, black matching stockings and candles, this is not only his vibe but his beautiful babys.

Ghost 💀- he'd get you a black kitten, after months of you yapping about it and begging and him giving a firm no he'd get you one, you call it grim after the grim reaper and you cry when you go downstairs on Christmas morning to a little kitten with a coffin pet bed, and let's be honest he's absolutely the reluctant at first cat dad who babies and is closest with the thing by the end.

Konig🦋- (the fan art omg so cute I need to pet him please!) he's obsessed with his little one, absolutely lives in the woods with her so he buys her the softest warmest blankets and he buys her warm knitted jumpers, custom made from an elderly woman who lives in the Village, with krampas on it (the woman definitely thinks he's the devil when he shows up with his hood on but he pays double sooo).

[the-californicationist]

Ursa Major: Ch. 01

In honor of WIP Wednesday, I thought I’d share Chapter One of my 100k+ word WIP on Tumblr! It’s your responsibility to check AO3 for tags. Thanks for taking a look ✌️🩷

You stood, transfixed, as you saw two bull elk, locked at their antlers, fighting for territory. The wide nares of their snouts were flared and desperate for air, gasping for a breath that they would never take. The taxidermied animals were perched, caught in a perpetual battle above the baggage claim carousel of Whitehorse International Airport. Their big, furry bodies were poorly reflected in the shining aluminum of the bag ramp, scuffed and scratched from years of loose luggage rattling over its gleaming slats. They looked as if they were poised over some frozen lake, their forms distorted in the gray ice, faces blurred so that the battle was even more gruesome than it seemed, every detail between them hidden by the frozen sheets. 

You peered down at your phone, checking through your emails once again. Your package of equipment had arrived at your client’s office, and he’d been nice enough to send a confirmation picture. He was standing in front of a mirrored window, and you finally got to put a face to a name. 

Mr. John Price, owner of The 141 Logging Company, had great taste in music. His Arctic Monkeys band tee looked well-worn and long-loved, its logo chipping and faded. He was bundled up in his Carhart coat, holding his phone in a gloved hand, and his pants were practically painted with saw dust. You closed the email. You weren’t sure why you kept pulling it up. It wasn’t like his face was going to get any clearer, and you weren’t really sure why you cared. 

Okay, let’s be truthful; you knew why you cared. He was absolutely killing your checklist.

Back in the eighth grade, you had lain on your floor with your best friend Martha. Her braided hair with its hot pink bobbles swayed back and forth as she insisted that you make The Checklist. Otherwise, she’d said, how will you know that you’ve found The One? So, with much convincing, you’d finally caved. 

He’d definitely have to love animals. You were going to be a vet one day, and that was a non-negotiable. He’d be sort of hairy. Martha had turned her nose up at that, but you’d seen that movie with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine before, and you refused to budge. He’d also love nature. Martha had protested that you double-dipped since you already had animals, but you insisted. You would never live in a city when you were a grown-up. Never.

And he’d need to have kind eyes. What color? Martha asked. But, you shrugged and said it didn’t matter. You knew, though, that in your heart of hearts, that you’d know them when you saw them. They’d be eyes that lit up the room when he smiled. When he wasn’t smiling, they’d be soft and patient. They’d look at you while you spoke, and the edges of them would fold together when he laughed. 

You turned back to the elk. Their eyes, distant and unseeing, shone like onyx marbles. The two animals stared at each other as they experienced their terrible, static afterlife, forced to face their mortality every morning when the sun came in through the windows of the small airport. You wondered how their skin had been stretched to fit over their hollow sculptures; you wondered how much of them was real and how much was just an illusion of reality. Perhaps there were more things like these two beasts in the space that surrounded you. Just how much of this world was truly a façade? 

He’d left you some voice messages, preferring to send memos instead of typing to text. It was nothing personal, just dates for meetings and practical matters. But, you found yourself replaying them, indulgently, listening to his unique, British vowels rumble around in a deep, dark register, reminding you of your neighbor who used to smoke. It was a raspy sort of tone, full of softness despite the gravelly texture. You listened to him speak his address in your headphones. Then, you played it again. The way he said Alaska Highway was particularly delightful. You tried to stop, a part of you policing yourself, finding it odd that you were enjoying the voice of a strange man. But, what was the harm?

If you listen to the voice of Master Logger John Price, but you don’t tell anyone, will anyone ever know? If a tree grows in a forest, and it dies there, and all of its pieces rot away, and no one was there to see it, was it truly real? 

These elk had been real, you were certain of that. Their hooves had crunched through dry grass and fresh snow. Their antlers had shed and grown back again. Perhaps they had even battled when they were alive, their blood pumping through their huge hearts, stirring their muscles and making them whistle their war cries into the frigid mornings. 

That was the thing you liked most about working with animals. They made you feel real. In fact, sometimes they made you feel primal, as if you were with them at the start of all of this. 

Before the airports and the electricity and the capitalism there had been quiet, uninterrupted mornings where the biggest news was that one elk had bested the other. You would pick winter berries and watch them posture against each other across the frozen field, unhurried in your work, knowing nothing of time or its passing. Nothing had been obscured then; no bodies were posed carefully for your enjoyment. There was only the animal need to eat and mate and sleep. You reminisced about a life you had never lived.

Just when you thought your backpack might never be delivered, and you too would be frozen here for all eternity, just like these elk, the baggage carousel came alive. All the metal clattered together like the opening tuning of an orchestra. The whining and whirring of the machine spinning awake jolted you back to reality where you waited a little impatiently for your colorful Cotopaxi to come tumbling down the slide. 

You checked your phone. The inn you had booked belonged to an old friend of yours, and she had promised to send you the address. You sent her a picture of the elk locked in their ritual.

You: made it to the great white north

She took a few minutes to respond. Your bag was still missing from the chute. You shuffled aside and helped an older gentleman with his insanely heavy case. Then, a soft pop notified you of her reply. 

Marie: looking forward to having you here!

She tacked on the address, and you pasted it into your map app. The airport, it seemed, was right next to downtown Whitehorse, but you’d need to take a cab all the way around it via the Alaska highway in order to make the loop. Ten minutes. Short and sweet. You hoped the bed would be serviceable. 

It wasn’t like you needed to get comfy. You were here to get in and get out. These logging companies never wanted an eco-specialist to stick around for too long. They could only keep up their angelic act for a short period of time before they went back to ravaging the landscape. People like you would just be in the way of their profits. You wondered if Mr. Price was like the rest of them, or if the kindness you thought you saw was genuine. 

You were looking forward to seeing Marie, though. She had been Marie LeBeau back in vet school when you enrolled together in the DMV program at Washington State, but she was married now. You hadn’t updated her contact card, yet. It didn’t really matter. You guessed you’d get to meet the husband on this trip. Apparently, it was his inn, and she just helped him run it. As a small animal vet in a tiny little town, you supposed Marie’s spay and neuter jobs weren’t enough to keep food on the table. 

A flash of color popped up in the carousel, and your bag emerged. You hoisted it up by the shoulder strap and marched to the car park. Your work boots made sticky little squeaks against the linoleum floor as you made your way outside. It was warm for the Yukon, even for June, and although there was a chill in the wind, the sun beamed down through the 70 degree weather. By all accounts, it was turning out to be a beautiful day. 

Hailing a cab wasn’t too hard when they were all parked there, waiting like fish by a dock, knowing they’d be fed. You picked the first one on the line and showed him the address. Of course, in a small town like this, there were only so many places travelers could go, so he wasn’t too surprised. 

The drive was short, and you admired the general splendor of the mountains and the quaint little town as you made your way in. Your driver pulled over, grabbed your bag from the trunk, and patiently waited for you to pull out your cash. He left you his card, 

“That way you’ll always have a ride, darlin’.”

“Thanks very much,” you smiled, leaving him a tip. 

He returned the smile and drove off, back the way he came. You turned around to face the old inn, feeling the afternoon sun kissing your cheeks and the wind rushing to make them pink. The tips of your hair stung them like needles, biting into your flesh relentlessly. You tugged it back with your scrunchie. 

The building looked like it used to be a factory of some kind, and its clay bricks told a story of many years worth of wear and tear. The giant buzzing neon sign out front said WHTHRS. All the vowels were out. You wondered about the odds of that before looking up further at a great stallion, bucking in his bright white neon piping, his hair billowing and yet static, captured in an eternal winnie. His rider was struggling to keep his seat, but his hat was held tightly in his hand, blinking sporadically in the dimming sun. 

The inn was situated on the corner of 2nd Avenue and Main Street, so there seemed to be plenty to keep you interested, at least for six or seven days. But, you were eager to get to work. Even in a tiny town like Whitehorse, the bustle of cars and people was a little much. You missed the woods, like a feral cat who had allowed herself to be domesticated, and a part of you still longed to be wild. 

“There she is!” You heard Marie’s distinct Southern drawl shout from the doorway to the inn.

You smiled, opening your arms wide for a tight hug, burying your face in her long hair,

“Marie! It’s so good to see you.”

It truly was a relief to be with your friend again. You studied her face. She hadn’t changed a bit even though vet school had been nearly a decade in the past. Her dark hair still had that signature white streak in the front. She’d always blamed it on a birthmark, but it wasn’t until you went on a two week trip down to Costa Rica on a field work assignment that you believed her. It was such an elegant shock of white, it looked like she’d dyed it on purpose. 

“How was your flight? Here,” she grabbed your bag, “Give me that. Come in, come in! Logan’s at the bar.”

She popped into the inn, and you followed close behind. Once inside, you took in the mesmerizing transformation of the run-down factory. They had done so much work on the inside, it felt like you had been transported to a different building altogether. The high walls stretched up so far that the golden glow from the lanterns and lamplight couldn’t reach the arched ceiling. The metal I-beams that spanned across the large, open space were imposing; it made you imagine how this place had looked when it had been filled with machines.

To the left of the entrance, Logan’s bar was generously stocked with gleaming glass bottles of liquors and wines as varied as you could imagine. The rich amber liquid of a whiskey bottle swirled around like boiling honey as the bartender poured it out into a waiting glass. The bar was wide and inviting, and the bartop itself was made from one long piece of live edge maple, shiny from sealant, showing off a gorgeous grain.  

The bartender, who you assumed was Logan, was scruffy to say the least. He had a bit of a mullet, and his sideburns were serious business. But, he was painfully attractive, and his eyes held within them an animal magnetism. His golden irises didn’t even seem real. When he smiled, your subconscious registered how sharp those bright white teeth of his were, but you smiled back, extending your hand.

“Hey, nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” that sharp smile was back, and his voice slid over you like warm honey, “I’ve heard more about you than I’ve ever heard about anyone, so we can skip this part, if you like.” He laughed good-naturedly, and you could see exactly what Marie liked about him.  

“I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Make yourself at home. Looks like we’ve got you all set up in the loft.”

You peered up the small wooden staircase toward the loft area, shrouded in darkness due to its height, and you noticed two doors. Logan pointed to them and explained,

“We’re on the left, and you’re on the right. Marie will take you up.”

“You live here?” You turned to Marie in surprise, not realizing their inn was also their home. 

“Yeah!” Marie shrugged her shoulders, “It’s easy enough. If we really need a break from the crowd, we’ll stay out in the cabin.”

“Mm,” you raised your eyebrows, teasing her, “Romantic.”

She gave Logan a look that stopped your giggling, surprising you with her candidness, 

“You have no idea.”

You followed her up the stairs and deposited your bags in your suite. It had a small bathroom and a kitchenette; everything you would need for your stay. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it would do its duty. 

You started to unpack, chatting with Marie and trying to fill in the gaps each other had missed. You’d been on this sort of job three dozen times in the past year, and you were a traveling pro. All your clothes were pretty much the same; wool layers and flannels, waterproof hiking pants and all of your various undergarments. Then, stuffed at the bottom of your pack where he always was: Mr. Claw. Your mom had given him to you, along with some flowers, when you graduated with your DVM, and you didn’t go anywhere without your mini DJUNGELSKOG stuffed bear. You supposed you should feel some sort of shame as an adult woman carrying around an IKEA children’s toy, but you didn’t care. It brought your mom back, just for a moment, and that was all you wanted, sometimes. 

After unpacking, you made your way back down to the bar with Marie. You peered over the railing from your high vantage point, admiring the bar’s bustling, homey energy. Then, you spotted him. Your client was talking to Logan. He was much bigger than the barkeep, which you hadn’t really expected from the photo. Aside from his size, he was handsomely made, and just in your taste, too. All of your suspicions about him checking things off of your list were coming true. 

He was built with heavy muscles and bone, his posture exuded slick, easy confidence, and his fashion screamed masculinity. His thick, dark hair was cropped short on the sides, and he’d shaved only the chin of his facial hair; it was a unique choice, but it suited him. Even through layers of warm clothes, you could see the outline of mountainous shoulders rolling around in his jacket sleeves. He was also holding a black, full-face helmet by his side, his huge hand tucked into the mask’s hole, clutching it by the plastic jaw. A motorcycle in the Yukon was a brave choice. 

Marie’s eyes followed your gaze, and when she realized your fixation, she raised her eyebrows at you, 

“Guess you’ll be having fun on this trip, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Your eyes were still watching him. He drank. He talked. You studied it all as if it was your new purpose. 

“Aren’t you working on an ecological report for 141 Logging?”

“Yeah,” you finally met her eyes, nodding. 

She pointed down the stairs from where you stood in the dark rafters, 

“That’s the owner; John Price. C’mon, let me introduce you.”

You wanted to tell her that you knew him already, but that wasn’t quite right. One blurry snapshot and a few replayed voice memos wasn’t truly knowing a person. So, you followed Marie down the stairs, trying to fix your face. You coached yourself to be professional, and as he spotted you, you realized just how hard that was going to be. Those bright blue irises of his hunted you like a hawk, tracking you without moving an inch from the bar, pinning you down handsfree. His eyes were alluringly kind but calculating. 

“John,” Marie motioned to you, “Meet your new ecologist… and doctor of veterinary medicine… and professional researcher… and –”

“Hey there, Doc,” he interrupted Marie’s generous introduction, “John.”

His voice was even more decadent in person. People usually wielded your title like a weapon, trying to hurt you with it, or sometimes themselves, but not him. He said it with respect and a hint of amusement. His smile was genuine, if not a little aggressively friendly. You tried to ignore the way his hand slid into yours to shake it, engulfing yours with its immense size, as if his palm could swallow it whole. He lingered on you more than normal. It was as if he was testing you, seeing if you would run from him. You held fast, letting the warmth of his fingers melt into yours, comforting you even though it was the hand of a stranger. 

“Nice to meet you in the flesh, John. Looking forward to seeing your land.”

“It’s a little late for a tour, I’m afraid. Thought I’d come down to get you around 0400 tomorrow. Take you to the site with plenty of morning to spare. You said you wanted to lay out your cameras? Got that big shipment up at the office with your name on it.” 

He finally released your hand, much to your dismay. How was it that you missed a random man’s touch already? You weren’t usually this easy to please, but (you admitted to yourself with a little shame) it had been quite a while since someone had caught your eye. It was always work. That was what you told yourself. The work won’t hurt you. Do it for the animals. People just cause problems. So, you leaned on your old mantra like a crutch,

“Yeah, they should’ve sent you about a dozen trail cams and the wildlife field kits. If it’s okay with you, I’d just like to check the traffic you’ve got in that area. The report that came in said something about a grizzly hybrid? We’re a little too far south for polars.”

He shrugged, being a little more dismissive than you thought he should have been,

“Just some spooked tourists. Sure it was just a normal grizzly.”

His body language shifted from confidence to a reserved protectiveness, and you could almost taste the tension in the air. You eyed him with suspicion now. You knew that a grolar bear would be a problem for him. They were a protected species, and their discovery on his land would shut down his operation in that sector for good. 

“Did they get any footage?” You asked, trying to pry a little further.

“No,” he shrugged and turned away from you a bit, going back to his drink and downing it in one go. Clearly, he was done here. You got the sense he was holding back some information from you, but you weren’t concerned. You had a plan.

“Well,” you tread carefully, “Best for you and your bottom dollar if we make damn sure.”

He smiled, but it didn’t spread wide or reach up into his eyes, and that same aggression was back. White, sharp teeth lay all in a row. You’d thought Logan’s grin was wolfish, but John’s was something even more savage. 

He was friendly enough, but you needed to remember that he was there to harvest trees and nothing more. These companies were always in it for the profit. Even a logging venture as highly rated on sustainability as his still needed to sell products. You just didn’t want that poor bear to be caught in the crossfire. If he was out there, you’d find him.

“Alright, Doc. See you in the morning, then. Logan,” John reached across the bar to shake Logan’s hand, took one more long look at you, slid on his helmet, and pushed his way through the double doors. 

Whatever John Price was hiding, you were looking forward to finding out.

Logan and Marie convinced you to stick around the bar for a couple of drinks, and you watched them dote on each other. There was no mistaking their love. It was as bright as their neon outside, and buzzing with their own unique joy. You weren’t jealous. Jealousy wasn’t the right word. But, just like having curly hair and seeing someone’s bone-straight locks, unstyled and naturally uniform, you knew there were things that other people had that weren’t for you. 

You dismissed yourself, slinking up the stairs to lay in their spare bed, and before you slept, you called your mom. 

It rang three times, each with its own infinite silence between their chimes, and then, when she picked up the phone, it clattered a bit, getting stuck as she balanced it between her cheek and her shoulder. You had this next part memorized, and your mom's voice came through, loud and clear. 

“Hey… uh, hey! It’s Claire. Couldn’t make it to the phone – I know, shocker! Leave me a message. Uh, okay, bye!”

A deafening beep stung your eardrum. You knew it was coming. It always came. But, you sort of liked it now. The pain was familiar, and at least it was something you could feel. 

You reached over to the wall, crossing the chilly expanse of your bed, and turned the radiator up a bit. Snuggling down into the sheets, you clutched Mr. Claw to your chest, wishing with all of your heart that he was real and that you could be buried in his fur, warm and very much not alone.

[outlawruben]

Modern AU headcannons

The Vandermatthews family edition

When John was a teenager he made slime and got it in Dutch’s expensive Persian rug he keeps in the office. (Dutch was LIVID.)

Hosea reads late into the night, which caused Dutch to buy one of those clip on reading lights so he can finally sleep peacefully.

Dutch and Hosea do embarrassing dances in the kitchen/living spaces when the kids are around. Arthur and John cringe hard at this.

John was introduced to Limp Bizkit and his life was forever changed.

Arthur: “GET OUT OF MY ROOM.”

John *In the doorway*: “IM NOT IN YOUR ROOM.”

Arthur: “dinner is ready.”

John: “OKAY.”

Arthur, louder: “OKAY!”

Arthur tans at the beach, John burns

Arthur has straight A’s, John has straight C’s

John will take a (monthly) shower and get the WHOLE floor wet

John’s favorite Christmas was when he got a bass guitar, and Arthur’s favorite was when he got his blue truck.

Arthur sits on Dutch/Hosea’s bed and just spills the tea to Hosea late into the evening (Dutch wants to get ready for bed soon)

Arthur is a PC player, and John is a console player

John has to go to the mall with Arthur when he wants to go alone because “John doesn’t socialize enough”

They both got to choose their bedroom colors, however, John wasn’t allowed to do THE DARKEST black in the store, so his room is a dark grey with a black accent wall. (Arthur’s room is blue)

Branching off of that, Arthur and John could decorate their rooms HOWEVER they wanted, there was no intervention from the dads

Hosea does the “Dad hand” during road trips when the boys have a snack he wants.

Hosea is the designated driver because Dutch has terrible road rage

They live on a pond, in fact Dutch and Hosea argued over it before buying the house, so much so that Hosea threatened a divorce because the ONLY thing he wants is a pond. Dutch folded, and Hosea fishes everyday.

Arthur loved Percy Jackson and John loved Warrior Cats.

Arthur is a cereal eater, and John is a pop-tart eater

The contrast between Arthur’s masterpieces vs John’s doodles are crazy. (They’re both proudly displayed on the front of the fridge no matter what) (yes this is based on their canonical journal entries, sue me)

John and Arthur took those embarrassing Macy’s photoshoots in the early 2000’s that are out on display for everyone to see in the future.

John has an INCREDIBLY embarrassing graduation photo from when he was in his emo phase in high school, and his dads refuse to remove it. (It’s placed next to Arthur’s gleaming grad photo)

Dutch has slippers he wears around the house, and Hosea just wears his socks.

John still doesn’t know how to swim in this AU, Hosea has tried to teach him, but John refuses to get in the water.

They have taxidermy in their house from when Hosea went hunting more often when he was younger.

Somehow Hosea and Dutch’s aesthetics work so well together.

Dutch is very much old money, and maximalist, and Hosea is definitely Vintage and Woodsy (It works together if you saw their house)

You would be convinced that John’s nails were naturally black and chipped from how much he painted them.

Hosea has a “Shop” in the garage like every dad has to have. (It’s full of fishing supplies, paint cans, and other tools ofc)

John’s room is very dark, messy, and covered in posters from every movie/Tv show/video game he’s ever seen/played. Also, making the bed? What’s that?

Arthur’s room is open and airy, with his own mountain murals painted on the walls, a full art desk, and he also doesn’t know what making the bed means.

[sewinrat]

What if the reader is Randal's twin sister that is always calm and quiet but yet more intimidating than the rest of the ivory household and is always abusing or scaring Sebastian?

It's just something I made up in my head! 😭

Only if you have the chance to do so, of course!

Hey I know I disappeared but I'm going to break my own rule to give you all content

*Reader implied to be female. Also this will not be a fic, just those headcanons thingy

Being Randal's More Intimidating Twin Sister;

Goodness, Randal would never have a boring day if he decides to watch your torture sessions daily

He definitely doesn't like how quiet you are but Nyen and Nyon are the same and he doesn't have a not-fun day watching them so he lets it be. But he's definitely forcing you everywhere with him. You are his twin after all and two is better than one as the humans say!

Clothing wise I'd say a Japanese school girl outfit with blazer and wearing gloves to match Randal's outfit. Honestly it doesn't matter what you want to wear as long as the colour is inverted of Randal's. White outfit and black gloves. You wear glasses but most often contact lenses. The feeling of them intrigued you but glasses are also usually a hindrance in your day to day activities.

The day when Luther gifted the both of you a human pet, you are ecstatic. Your face doesn't show but Randal knows and he's ecstatic as electric as well. Both of you have the dynamic of Maud and Pinkie that's why he can tell. The day after that is the day Sebastian the human pet learns true fear.

You are unnerving and rightfully so. Especially when you keep chasing after him with those garden shears. If Randal has scissors, you have bigger scissors. You like to snip snip Sebastian's body parts. Hair, legs, hand, you get the point. You won't necessarily kill him on purpose, only by accident but Luther will stop you when Sebastian's at the brink of death. Which he wished for more than escaping after weeks upon weeks of torture. Too bad Randal is enjoying this too much which encourages your behaviour.

More often than not, Luther had to tell you to clean up your mess after you finish your fun activity. He doesn't encourage it but he doesn't stop you as well because in his words, who is he to stop his little sister discovering her hobbies and enjoying them.

Two peas in a pod the both of you. It doesn't matter how different you both are, you're still twins. If anyone knows anything about twins, is that somehow they have a deeper bond than with anyone else around them. If you mess with one of them, you have to deal with the other or together if you wanna get messy.

Nyen won't say it out loud obviously but he much prefers you over Randal if we're talking about violence and perfect fit to be the next heir if it ever comes to that. I mean obviously because we're speaking the American cat here. If he's 'lucky', you might spar him one on one. Nyon on the other hand definitely avoids you like the plague. Not a fighter and definitely does not want to be your next experiment but too bad for him, you're still above him in ranks.

Satoru won't favour you more than Randal but he'll definitely ask for your help to make him 'real' to which you happily complied. Remember that spider girl in Vol.2 and Avalona Mercury? Yeah they're your besties. Don't ask how but they just naturally are. Unless you're someone who seeks to pursue a relationship with one of them which I guess go off. No one really cares.

Known as well as the ratmen's worst nightmare. They wish to never come across you ever or else they're better off as a taxidermy head on top of a fireplace. Even if there's a slight chance they'll be let off uninjured, there's a high chance they'll end up getting owned or dead.

Wednesday Addams kinnie I just realised but hey maybe that's what you wanted.

Randal would definitely dragged you into his own mess by making you dress up as him and take the blame. Sometimes you let him do whatever he wants, other times he ends up bloodied.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You(ooc);

Randal: "You've met my twin?! Oo! Oo! How are they?! Did you have fun with her?! She's really fun to play with especially with those shears of hers!" Excited to rant about his twin. Get comfortable or not because he can go on and on and on.

Luther: "Ah yes. She's quite a delight isn't she? I just wish she wouldn't leave such a bloody mess everywhere and anywhere she wants but oh well~ I can't stop her from enjoying what she loves doing." Dismissive yet acknowledged. Just don't get blood on the new carpet or curtains and you're good like you're avoiding angering your mother too much but brother instead.

Nyen: "Would love to fight against once. With her next in line, everything will definitely turn for the worst but it'll be very fun." Nothing else to say except he gives more respects to you than to Randal but won't admit it.

Nyon: Like I said, avoids you like the plague. It got to the point where he can't come up with an opinion on you because his mind goes automatically to 'avoid her alert'. That's not to say he hates you, he could never hate his master's family, he just rather not be under your torture sessions.

Sebastian: "Please don't tell me she's behind me." Shivering scared little thing. He likes his limbs to be intact 24/7 of course so even by the mention of you have his thoughts rapidly flashed the flight or fight instinct. But it's only flight no fight. He's not that bold.

Bonus! Tsukada Satoru: "Randal's twin is nice. She helps me when I needed her most especially when it comes to hurting. Glad to see her interacting well with those two." He's too much focused on Randal to care but since you're Randal's other half, his literal twin, he has to care enough about you.

[crescenthistory]

hey my love 💓💓 i just wanted to say that i am so infautuated with the way you write and the way you think, i can't seem to get enough. your characterizations hit for me 🤧 i don't know if this request is going to make any sense, but i was wondering if you could share some general headcanons you have for the slytherin gang? like, i want to see more of how your mind works and how you view them. it can be things about them you already actively include in your fics or things you think about but maybe haven't gotten to explore yet? idk, go crazy, we will eat it up regardless 💘

this. this is exactly the kind of ask writers want to get – you've basically just asked me to yap away about my favourite characters, don't mind if i do love<33 and i appreciate your sweet words so much, know that i deeply appreciate and love you mwah

characters: barty, evan, regulus, dorcas, pandora

cw: discussion of abuse (crouch sr., walburga black, students), foster care system, taxidermy/animal death, violence, mental illness, fire, mentions of canon-compliance (though not based around it)

the holy bible of crescenthistory canon for the slytherin skittles !

barty

this is something i haven't touched upon in any of my writings, but am eager to bring to fruition -> i view barty as eastern european

you give me a dark-haired, thick-browed, chaotic, loud, incredibly welcoming and loyal to those he loves, avid drinker and smoker, i will tell you he is eastern-european

i am not necessarily particular about which eastern-european country, but personally i am partial to romanian

this is partly because it's the nationality that fits best with the rest of my hcs (as it's a romantic language in eastern-europe, surrounded by slavic nations), because i think the stereotypes work well for barty's characterisation while also not putting him too much in a box (unlike for example russian) and i can just see it

romanian pet-names i think he'd use: Dragă (dear), Inimă (heart), Buburuză (ladybug), Frumoasă (beautiful), Soare (sun), Pisicuță (kitten), mami (lol)

i will also accept polish (known in europe for being high-energy and off the rockers), moldavian (alcohol is part of their blood) and bosnian (good-hearted, explosive temper)

specifically, i think his mother was eastern-european and his father was english; his mother tongue was romanian but they primarily lived in england because of his father, thus he went to hogwarts instead of durmstrang

because he is so fond of his mother, i believe barty feels a rather strong connection to his eastern-european culture and it's definitely something he brings up/jokes about a lot

this all ties into another important hc i have for barty, which is that he is The Polyglot TM -> and provides the reasoning for why (apart from the fact that he is freakishly intelligent)

growing up, his father was neglectful and rarely spoke to barty unless it was to scold him. romanian became barty's native language because he was only ever truly raised by his mother.

thus, i think he struggled with english quite a bit in the start, because he was not exposed to it to the same degree

when crouch senior used barty's lack of fluency in english against him, taunting him, barty experienced his first act of rebellion/spite by ensuring he became so fucking good at english

it was not enough for him to become fluent, he needed to be a master of it, even learning many different accents (which he often pull out for a joke or a party trick btw. suddenly he's just speaking with a heavy derry accent)

both to a) show off and 2) prove his father wrong

as he grew a bit older (all still pre-hogwarts), the thought of being so connected to his father's language kind of soured for him, and to counter act that, he decided to pick up as many eastern-european languages as he possibly could

barty is nothing if not petty, fuelled by spite for his father

thus, he learned russian (very common language in eastern-europe), moldovan (neighbouring country to romania), hungarian (neighbour) and serbian (neighbour)

most of the slavic languages are fairly similar, so once you learn one, it is "easier" to learn the others, especially at a young age

by the time barty started hogwarts, i think he was fluent in 6 languages already, toying with a few others

when he befriended regulus in his first year and found out he was french, his reaction was immediately "oh guess i've gotta learn french now too!"

both to know what regulus was saying and so that the two of them could talk shit together

as a romance language, it was fairly easy for barty as a romanian to adapt to it, which is also how he throughout his time at hogwarts also learned spanish and italian. maybe latin?

barty is intelligent, out-of-pocket, spiteful and loyal; thus he is the epitome of an eastern-european polyglot

i think it's also canon that barty received 12 owls? that is a piece of canon i am 100% compliant with. he is just wired like that, he is the type who does not need to study for it and loves to flaunt that in others' faces

lastly, while i often depict barty as aloof and careless, i view this as the persona/facade he is putting on for protection. i genuinely believe barty is so terribly vulnerable and has some grade A meltdowns during his time at hogwarts

i don't want to say outright that i hc him as someone with borderline, but i will say that my partner has borderline and kins him for that exact reason so. do with that what you will

the only people who truly get to see this is the skittles, you, his mother and james potter on one unfortunate evening (which led to him understanding and respecting barty like never before)

evan

first and most obvious: twins with pandora

he was born 12 minutes after her, though i don't view them as the type to argue about "oldest"

visually, i have always imagined them to be almost identical (sometimes one of them are hc-ed as trans and they are identical twins, but i think regardless that they have the same face, height and size)

absolutely angelic, ethereal creatures -> all sharp angles (in their faces, sharp teeth, almost fox-like) and large contrasts (dark skin, blonde dreadlocks & very white teeth, big noses and thin eyebrows)

the twins have hetereochromia -> one green eye and one brown and yellow (again with the contrasts)

evan is also a very contrasting figure between his looks and personality; i see him as an incredibly beautiful, almost feminine person who has a primal, stoic personality

the type of face that makes others' jaws go slack while his tightens painfully at their reactions

i have seen others hc that evan is called a "doll" by everyone because of his looks and i think that does something to him mentally over time

it sent him to a quiet, dark place before he found true comfort and belonging with the skittles -> by seventh year, i think they had made it into an inside joke

stoic in the sense that he does not speak before he has thought over his words extensively and his face is in a constant deadpan, not letting anything slip

incredibly observant, finds comfort and joy in watching others. it can be studying human behaviour and social cues, or watching others squirm under his watchful eye, relishing in their discomfort

i believe he was selectively mute for a period of his life and pandora spoke for him (twin telepathy is real with these two)

with the skittles, he was treated as a person of interest for the first time in his life, with particularly dorcas and barty prodding to find out who he is and what he thinks

this is how he grew comfortable with them; he tested the waters and when they liked him even more for all his weird, he let go with them

humour wise, i believe him to be the type that snickers and barks laughters when he is with his select circle

crude, direct, unapologetic, clinical, curiosity-driven, loyal, animalistic

he is not the type to snap, but rather to sit back with his emotions and let them simmer until he channels them into something dark

however, if one of His People TM snaps, he is loyal to a dangerous degree and will be right there with them, going for blood

(which is how he and barty always ends up in fist fights)

barty gave him his first piercings in third year (perhaps to offset the whole "doll" thing at the time) and ever since, evan has been getting more and more

if his body is an angelic vessel, he wants to decorate it as he fucking pleases

oh and i think he curses like a sailor. again with the contrasts between looks and personality

anything unorthodox or "unacceptable" catches his attention -> his mind almost gets hung up on certain concepts or thoughts like a scratched plate

it can vary vastly from things considered "immoral" to things people just look down upon -> e.g. taxidermy vs skating

fascination with creatures (human or animal or fantastical), their bodies (blood, bone, veins, etc.) and behaviour (social interactions, hierarchies, relationships, etc.)

the point is that evan himself has lived as an oddity his whole life, so he pursues oddities in all forms. a sense of belonging and understanding.

preferably does it all with pandora

in a muggle au, evan would either be a tattoo artist specialising in occultist imagery or a biologist within a super niche field of a species he became obsessed with -> same same but different

regulus

i apply the generally accepted headcanon that the black family has french roots and thus french was his mother tongue; he slips into it when deeply emotive (in either end of the spectrum) and he borrows his favourite words that he feels does not have a sufficient equivalent in english

for instance, he calls his love amour instead of just "love" because he feels like the word holds more meaning in his native language

personally, i don't necessarily view regulus as a polyglot -> i think he could learn spanish and italian if he felt like it, but he would rather pursue poetry and music

(though i do believe he has taught himself latin to be That Bitch)

i recently touched upon this, but i believe that regulus is the most exquisite violinist

all sacred 28 children are raised almost as royals with all the "traditional" upper class teachings of learning classical instruments, reciting sonnets, horseback riding (though perhaps a magical creature instead? thestrals?)

both regulus and sirius were taught the piano to begin with, but regulus excelled much quicker than sirius, and mastered the piano incredibly early on

(the boys were heavily pitted against each other and made to compete, and due to their age difference, this was one of the few areas regulus outdid him. i believe regulus always did better than sirius had at his age, he felt as if he was behind because sirius was better than him in the moment. so he absolutely cherished it, and thus made musical instruments a large part of his personality for the first half of his childhood.)

to continue im(proving) himself, regulus decided to try out the violin, and i believe this is the instrument he truly fell for

the violin is a more physically engaging instrument than piano (at least for regulus, pianists don't kill me) -> he has to move his whole body to make the sounds he chases after, he can hold his fingers down on the sharp strings until they bleed, he can clutch the violin in between his chin and shoulder until it bruises

it becomes a much-needed physical outlet for him as well as an artistic one

if we want to get very sad, i picture sirius unable to listen to any music with violins in them in the parts of his life he spends without regulus (for whatever reason)

generally, i view regulus as someone who appreciates the arts as an escape

i believe he also reads and writes poetry -> originally he mostly consumed and replicated the sonnets he had forced down his throat (shakespeare was probably a wizard, right?) but as he grew older and continued, he developed his own style

i think he primarily discusses different manifestations of pain and generational trauma in his works; these are the pieces he is proud of and considers publishing under a pseudonym

but when regulus falls in love, he falls hard and i think it would be impossible for him not to write sappy love poems; these are the pieces he stows away and vows to never share with the world, until he is old and married and healed and finds them once more and walks into the living room to show his partner as they laugh and cry together

i think his most emotive pieces are written in french, his most secretive ones are written in latin and the ones about healing and developing are written in english

i don't feel like i need to dive deep into it, but i obviously believe regulus is a cat animagus

(i think he either did it young simply because he could, or he found out that sirius was an animagus and refused to be upstaged once more, so he did it over the summer after he discovered it)

(because regulus black is what? petty as fuck)

(it's part of what bonded him and barty early on)

i also want to touch upon the fact that i often (though not always, and rarely explicitly) view regulus as transmasc

i might delve more into it one day, but for now i'll just say i think he would use he/they pronouns if given the opportunity

LAST thing i promise: crop tops. slutty waist. thank you!

dorcas

without a doubt, i view dorcas as the strongest of the group, maybe even the strongest of all marauders era characters.

this is referring primarily to her magic but also her will power.

her spells have an explosive force to the point where she prefers not to cast healing spells or casual spells, because her magic is too "rough" for it to be suitable. she's a strategist in that sense, often delegating such spells to others. she works on more permanent/solid spells, e.g. putting up wards, hexing objects, any and all battle spells, potions.

she is a proper scholar and a good student who gets top marks, but that is not where her talent or aspirations stem from. she knows her power and she wants to use it effectively and pragmatically.

that goes for her willpower as well. say it with me: dorcas "debate team champion" meadowes. she is blunt and direct and unapologetic about it. she believes there is such a thing as a "correct" opinion and she will tell you as much in a so devastating manner you cannot formulate a response.

(canon-compliant: this is why she was killed by voldemort himself. she went straight from the mckinnons' home to where she knew she would find as many death eaters as possible, and then she just unleashed everything she had. knowing it would kill her, a form of suicide mission. she could not live without marlene, could not take the grief, but she wanted her death to be worthwhile; thus, she let go and single-handedly caused the largest amount of casualties for the death eaters had had in one battle. it was voldemort himself because no one else could.)

most of this stems from a pathological need to prove herself.

unlike the other four skittles who all grew up in abusive homes (although in varying forms), i believe dorcas grew up in the foster care system. which in the uk 70s was not a pleasant experience.

i don't think she experienced many caretakers who were angry/violent, but i don't think they were involved or engaged with her at all. they were just there, she was just there, and that was that.

from her fellow children in the system, she learned both what love and hatred was. the first girl she kissed was a roommate at one of the houses she spent some weeks at. but in the orphanage she spent most time at, she was caught in a severely psychologically harmful environment among the children. there was bullying, there were fights, there was instability.

dorcas was a blurred face in a massive crowd, moving at full speed. she needed to stand out, she yearned to be someone.

so; she began proving herself and she never stopped. academically, socially, capability-wise. which is how she harnessed such massive power. she had to establish a strong sense of self and make it seem to others like she stood with her head held high at all times, even when she was feeling fragile or scared.

i don't think she had a temper like barty's though, nor was she so wrung-tight like regulus. she was not one to snap or shake. she fake-it-till-you-make-it-ed her self assuredness and honestly believes it herself until she is alone.

when she crumbles it is through exhaustion and maybe a few tears that lead to silent sobs. if you don't know to look for it, you would never be able to notice it when she's in bed.

"i'll keep everything bottled up right here thank you" and does so successfully until she is held gently and then she melts

from northern england in my mind. favourite curse word is "bloody" and she overuses it.

because she is confrontational and not afraid to ask the tough question, she is the ideal person to come to when you need to get some real advice. in that sense, she serves the same purpose in the skittles as lily does with the gryffindors. i think the two would bond a lot.

dorcas is really proud of her name. i think she feels a real connection with it and identifies with it – it's beautiful. despite this, she likes the nickname "cas" because it signals a closeness she has yearned for her whole life. as i already have written about a lot, she can and will kill you if you call her "dorc" (the skittles still do ("but it's with a c!").

i would not go as far as to call her a pyromaniac, but she has a fascination for flames. i think she identifies with them a lot, too. she would have many candles lit around her at all time, and plays with the wick and the wax when she's bored.

she likes to read kind of niche, disturbing literature. she likes tropes like "cannibalism as a metaphor for love", "transforming into a bug", "a relationship between a voodoo doll and its maker"

i always believed dorcas' features and voice to be rather soft. i think her voice especially was naturally quite airy and light, which she tried to fight against for years to make it louder and match the power she knows she harnesses and wants to exude. as she heals, she knows she does not need to. she can still command a room with her soft voice and can still lead an army with a soft face.

i feel like maybe one of the most disputed aspects of dorcas is her style? and i'll tell you right now, in my mind dorcas has a light academia meets princess mermaid style. and it is significant. she dresses like she is the president of the debate team and would be the best person to bring on a beach date at the same time. with potentially some witchy/whimsygoth undertones.

in a muggle au i picture dorcas as either being in the un or a professional volleyball player. i don't think i will elaborate.

pandora

nicknames "dora"

everything said for evan regarding looks of course also applies for pandora as his twin -> ethereal, angelic, "doll-like" looks, heavy contrasts in colours and features (including heterochromia and blonde dreads)

i occasionally view pandora as transfem (making her and evan identical twins) and i think their features are quite androgynous, though femme-leaning

when i view her as trans, i think it was evan who picked her name out with a reference to pandora's box

in general, "pandora's box" is a running joke within the friend group. there are no ends to how the term is used; it can refer to her mind, her room, her partner, her bag, etc.

she has had the same wide cloth shoulder bag throughout all her time at hogwarts, that she always patches up by hand using natural elements, and she has hexed it so many times (to have more storage, to not let anyone with ill intentions in, etc.) that it radiates this magical energy you can feel when your hand hovers above it.

pandora's oddities are just as severe as evan's, but partly because she's a girl they're more often brushed off as "whimsical" -> i argue this is a mistake on their part

she is not the flora to evans' fauna; they are both fauna, they are both primal and wild

the reason evan is more violent than pandora is largely because he does it out of loyalty to barty and because he has been shunned in a more aggressive manner due to gender roles. pandora instead can be mentally and magically violent, creating new jinxes that crush someone's psyche in ways previously unheard of, should need be.

she is also primal in the sense that she is a very tactile person -> she touches to understand and learn. she can randomly grab someone's chin mid-conversation or rub at their eyebrows. her friends are not fussed over this whatsoever anymore, carrying on their sentence without any disruption. others, not quite as much.

pandora collects bones and uses them with everything from her magic to jewelry or decor. she has a habit of giving the prettiest bone of whatever creature she is pilfering from to whoever she is happiest with at the moment, kind of like a crow.

she has a deep respect for all fauna and their way of life; she often finds it to be more logical than humans'

pandora thinks on a plane above most other people.

i believe her to be a seer, though not always in the traditional sense. she doesn't necessarily know everything that is going to happen (some of it, sure), but she sees thoughts and feelings that are about to form in the air around her. she sees auras and sounds too.

in fifth year, her and barty make a business out of her giving relationship advice based on the fact that she is a seer. unfortunately, she actually said it as it was, leading to some unhappy customers, leading to barty beating them up. not good for business (but hilarious stories at parties)

she enjoys crystals, tarots, sage and other things we usually associate with spirituality. she enjoys them both for the concept of occultism or otherness, and as actual tools for her more unorthodox approaches to magic. many of her friends don't quite believe it, but it always works when she uses it all on them, so they don't say anything. i think dorcas quite enjoys learning tarot from pandora, while barty makes up fake stories for the cards.

her seer-abilities leads to a lot of miscommunication and is in large part why she talks the way she does. on her own plane, she often misses certain social cues or sarcasms, while others aren't privy to what she bases her worldview on, because they cannot see it.

i have always thought her voice and way of speaking to be very similar to luna's (that's where she got it from). it's airy and light, like she is addressing more than just the people present in the room.

in my fics, i usually make her quidditch commentator for that reason -> people find it entertaining (some in good nature, some in taunting) and her insights in players' mindsets and actions is beneficial

incredibly kind and patient with her friends

i think she has a fascination with mirrors -> both the concept of reflecting back, the idea of distorted mirrors, using mirrors in her magic, etc. her house is full of them.

i often view her as on the aroace spectrum ("i have greater concerns"), but if she is not i think she either:

a) views relationships and situationships in an almost clinical sense; experimenting with quite a bit of detachment, maybe even taking notes of it, yet somehow in an innocent-ish way

b) mates for life. finds one person and goes oh yes this one'll do and stays with them forever. (which i suppose is what she did with lovegood?)

in muggle aus, i think she would work at a funeral home and be that soft, celestial presence that sticks with a grieving 8 year old for the rest of their lives like a loving ghost reminding you that death is natural and grief is loved persevering

on that note, given the option i fully believe she would have become a ghost. the only reason she isn't in canon is because she missed evan and regulus.

the whole gang

everyone has made out with each other at some point -> have you heard of the term queer platonic? yeah that's them

overprotective in every form of the word. supporting each other in their maniacalisms. a cohesive group to the core.

pandora and regulus are best friends who can talk about the real shit and understand each other on an almost cosmic level

regulus and barty are best friends who are back to back in any situation, ready to be with each other through the worst -> the type who have been close for almost too long and bicker like an old married couple because of it

barty and dorcas are best friends who "will do it if you do it" and end up in the most nidicolous situations together just for the laughs

if barty goes through a breakup, it's dorcas he calls. if regulus goes through a breakup, it's pandora he calls. if evan goes through a breakup, the group splits in half where regulus and pandora stay with him while dorcas and barty goes to kill the breakup-er

regulus is the mum friend of the group, the kind of exasperated mum who sprays her kids with a spray bottle and put them on leashes. when regulus is out of commission, big sister dorcas picks up the mantle in the most chaotic manner you have ever seen (swap the spray bottles for bug smackers and the tired sighs with screeching). pandora is constantly the aloof auntie. evan and barty are babies with no regard for safety (their own or others').

their interests loop together into funny weird little systems

for example: barty finds the dead animal (maybe kills it if we're being honest), evan experiments on its carcass and dissects it, pandora retrieves its bones afterwards and makes jewelry with it

another example: pandora likes creating paint from natural elements, evan likes using it for his skateboard, dorcas likes using it for her paintings and clothes, and barty likes huffing it

on graduation day, pandora handed them all little dolls of each of them that she made herself -> in reference to the "rosier dolls", showing that they were all dolls because they were all family. they looked like a combination of voodoo dolls and babushka dolls, painted, sown and bedazzled with button eyes. they treasured them.

when i write fics where the skittles never got involved with the death eaters at all (which is most of the time), i usually hc dorcas as half-blood and the discrimination she faced is a large part of the reason why they were turned away.

they will vocal stim at the same time together, particularly barty and pandora. it drives regulus mad, while dorcas and evan don't even notice it.

when barty got in fights, evan backed him up and eventually threw him over his shoulder when it was time to stop. if they were fighting someone who deserved it, regulus and dorcas would stand on either side and throw healing spells on the perpetrator/victim, so that the punishment could be prolonged without actually killing someone.

pandora is the only one with veto rights in the group. whether it is to stop an argument, decide who is right, decide what to do or any such thing, it is only her word that is final. it's not always it comes to that, but when pandora's soft voice says "stop" or "yes", that is the end all be all.

many of them were each other's first real hug.

i love them, your honour