#northwest mansion nightmare

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Things I Can't Stop Thinking About Since the Gravity Falls Renaissance; An Overly Long Compilation

• It's mostly a joke-y cartoon thing but holy shit Dipper wakes up screaming kind of a lot??? How long has he been doing that for?? How long will he *be* doing it for??

• Stan had to basically teach himself advanced physics and complex multidimensional theories. He had the advantage of the portal mostly being built and having a bunch of the notes post-Bill, but still!! He had to learn how to operate the damn thing! I highly doubt Ford wrote about the portal in the same accessible manner he wrote about cryptids, especially as he spiraled into paranoia. The machinations of the portal weren't meant to be shared with the layperson, it just wouldn't be practical information for most people to have.

(also notable that he went through the whole process of learning how to operate the portal not only through pages and pages of dense code, but with the background of a 1970s highschool education and literally nothing else that would be relevant. Ford works really hard, but this is also stuff that comes to him very naturally. Designing a functioning portal wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting the idea for the portal in the first place and knowing what to do with it. This shit is so ridiculously advanced and Stan is not an academic mind by any means. No wonder it took 30 years, he had to keep up a fake life and fund his project while grinding away at advanced quantum physics interdimensional whatever science wizard nonsense. I think about those 30 years a lot.)

• It doesn't really get addressed, but I think about Wendy being "super stressed out, like, all the time!" A lot. God, can you imagine living in the same house as Manly Dan? Let alone being the only girl there? Especially depending on when their mom left/died, she probably felt incredibly alone for a lot of her teen years. And given the Apocalypse Training it doesn't seem like Manly Dan is the most stable parent either.

• Stan, Ford, and Wendy could probably bond over having shitty holidays (and subsequently being forced into having awesome holidays when Mabel found out.) Filbrick took Stan and Ford to get free cinder block samples for Hanukkah, and the Corduroys did apocalypse training every year instead of Christmas.

• Pacifica still hears the voice of the Lumberjack ghost in her nightmares, but it's implied on the website that the Lumberfolk spirits have actually declared her under their protection since the events of Northwest Mansion Mystery. That means one of two things: that the ghost in her dreams is just her own guilt-ridden brain, or that the ghost has been appearing in her dreams to try and help her. I think about both options frequently.

• Stan struggles a lot of the time with physical activity, but that's mostly to do with age. He's actually really goddamn strong (beating down the zombies, punching a pterodactyl in the face, grabbing Ford and hoisting him up off the ground no problem, scaling scaffolding and holding the twins up by a rope one-handed). This makes the fact that Wendy beat him in an arm wrestling contest three times in a row way funnier.

• The way the Stans were almost definitely completely willing to beat a random guys ass so that Waddles could get on that bus. Stanford "Your math is no match for my gun you idiot!" Pines implicitly threatened to shoot a stranger with a Weird Sci-Fi Firearm for his great-niece. Stanley is even more direct. There is no confusing what brass knuckles will to to you. I also absolutely believe that they were not bluffing. One of them would've stolen the bus if the guy had mysteriously fallen unconscious due to unforseen circumstances.

• According to Soos, Tad Strange is crushing hard on Woodpecker Guy. Is this general town knowledge? Does everybody know that the Woodpecker marriage is on the rocks? How does one divorce a woodpecker? Alternatively, how does one get divorced *by* a woodpecker? Does Tad have a chance? Is this a small town scandal? Mr. Hirsch inquiring minds want to know. Has Toby Determined written a gossip column on this drama yet. Get your head in the game, Toby

[chronicangel]

Pacifica Northwest's Sweet Sixteen

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 4169 Date posted: October 17, 2024

Summary:

You are invited to the greatest party of the century!

When Pacifica wakes up, it’s still dark out.

She reaches over instinctively to turn off her alarm before she realizes that her alarm isn’t going off, and then she just stares up at the silk canopy over her bed. She must have had a nightmare, but she can’t remember it. That’s good, she thinks. It’s always harder to get back to sleep when she remembers them.

She picks up her phone to squint at the time. 5:03 AM. Happy birthday to me, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She’d check her social media, but it’s too early for any of the other people who actually care about her birthday to have said anything to her, and she doesn’t want to scroll through all of the pictures of happy families and families pretending to be happy for the holiday. She’s going to get plenty of that at home today, she thinks.

As much as she’d begged and pleaded for Susan to let her work today, her boss had rightfully pointed out that even if the diner wasn’t closed for the day to give all of the other employees time off with their families, they wouldn’t have any customers. No escaping her parents, then. They probably wouldn’t have reacted well if she tried to skip their party, anyway.

You are invited to the greatest party of the century! Celebrate Gravity Falls’ own winter miracle with us once again at the annual Northwest Winter Gala, Christmas and a birthday all wrapped into one. This year’s theme: Sweet 16. Colors are champagne, lavender, and the Canadian dollar. Gifts are mandatory.

She wanted to puke when her mother handed her the invites along with the guest list and told her the envelopes had to be in her handwriting as if she’d had any choice in who was coming.

She gives up on getting back to sleep. It was stupid to think she’d be able to in the first place. She almost never can, and her birthday is an especially miserable occasion. She still remembers when Mom used to wake her up at midnight with a slice of chocolate cake that she was absolutely not allowed to eat in bed, back when her parents still pretended to like her.

Despite the drafts of snow she can see through her bedroom window, her room is nice and toasty when she throws the blankets off. She used to have her own fireplace. It was probably a safety hazard, but she liked sitting in front of it to read on late winter nights.

She glares at her closet. The dress her mother has picked for her this evening looks like the middle step between a wedding dress and the sort of dress you stuff a toddler into for Easter pictures. She hates it, but she knows not wearing it will be a bigger issue than it’s worth.

For now, she skips right past it to put on winter clothes instead. Fleece-lined leggings, fluffy socks made from alpaca wool imported from Peru, a turtleneck that had been knitted for her by the Austrian prince’s grandmother, and a coat she bought with her own money during their last ski trip to the Alps make up the basics of her outfit, and by the time she gets downstairs and to the front door, they’re joined by a scarf that feels like running water in her hands and luxury brand hiking boots made from shell cordovan.

There’s something so refreshing about the gust of cold air that hits her face when she steps outside, immediately whipping her bangs into her eyes. It is not a still or quiet morning in Gravity Falls. After they had lost the mansion, they moved into a new one in the closest thing Gravity Falls has to “the suburbs,” and there is no big hill or private patch of forest to block the wind from biting at her nose and fingertips. She sucks in a deep breath of it and watches it fog up in front of her as she exhales.

Maybe it’s because she’s a winter baby, but she’s always found the cold weather so grounding. When her boots sink into the snow and it threatens to pour over the top against her socks, that’s when the world feels the most real.

The woods are never far in Gravity Falls even if your family doesn’t own their own private portion of the forest, and when every other scent has been crowded out by pine and the snow is in a thinner layer on the ground because it has too many tree branches to get through to pile up, that’s when she really relaxes. She thinks she can’t have been walking for more than twenty or thirty minutes, and a quick glance at her phone confirms it. Her hair isn’t being thrown around by the wind anymore, safe within the barrier of the trees, but the damage has already been done. She can practically hear her mom’s temper tantrum about what a tangled mess it is, but that’s a problem for later. This moment, right now? This is just for her.

She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. There’s a richer smell to the forest with her eyes closed. Snow doesn’t smell exactly like rain, but there’s a hint of that earthy smell, wet trees and wet grass and wet dirt all drinking up whatever they can before they freeze solid. She walks until she finds a place to sit down, a knocked-over log that’s frozen over with just a little bit of snow, and she figures it’s not a big deal if her pants get wet because she has to change before the party anyway. Mom and Dad aren’t going to like it, she thinks, but rather than the anxiety that would have gnawed at her only a few years ago at that idea, it only brings a smile to her lips. The only thing that would make this moment better is a cup of coffee.

She doesn’t know how long she just sits there like that, soaking in the peace of a winter morning. She thinks the snow must have stopped, because there aren’t even stray flurries rushing between branches anymore. Her fingers are bright red, and she can barely feel them. She should have put gloves on before she left.

Eventually, she sees the sun starting to peek over the tops of the trees, casting a golden glow on the whole forest. More than that—the snow on the ground reflects the light in a gleaming rainbow that shimmers over the entire ground. She picks her phone up to take a picture, and once she’s snapped a few that she likes, her eyes catch on a few notifications.

Mabel Pines 🌟: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! 🩷💜💙💖💖💫🌠🦙🌲🎄Mabel Pines 🌟: omg i still cannot beLIEVE that your birthday is CHRISTMASWendy Corduroy : happy birthday, dude! hope your family is less terrible this year.Dipper 💙: Happy Birthday, Paz. I’ll call you later, ok?

She snorts. Dipper texts like such a middle-aged dad. Still, as she goes through replying to them, she tells him that she’s looking forward to it.

And she is. Even though the twins haven’t visited Gravity Falls in-person since that summer when they were 12, they’ve been a near-constant presence in her life since then. She calls Dipper in the middle of the night when she has nightmares and can’t get back to sleep (and he never seems to be able to get to sleep in the first place), she and Mabel send each other at least fifty selfies with a million filters each per day, and she jokes about running away to see them in Piedmont at least twice a week most weeks.

She hadn’t even realized that she was smiling until it drops when her mother’s caller ID pops up on the screen, and she answers before it even has the opportunity to ring and disrupt the serenity of the forest. “Where are you?” Her mother practically shrieks on the other end of the line. “We told you that we were doing birthday breakfast promptly at eight o’clock.”

Pacifica pulls the phone away from her ear to check the time and winces. It’s almost 7:45. There’s no way she’ll be able to get back to the house by eight. “Sorry, Mom,” she says when she presses the phone back to her ear, not feeling very sorry at all. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“Doing what?” Priscilla demands. Before Pacifica has the opportunity to answer, though, she continues, “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Just get your ass back here, young lady.”

It’s always bad when Mom swears. Priscilla Northwest insists that swearing is improper and unattractive, and that if you can’t get your point across without harsh language, you’re too dim-witted for high society. Pacifica thinks that most people think she and her mother are too dim-witted for high society anyway, and that if she cares so much about seeming intelligent, she probably should have spent the years curating a different image.

“Okay,” she says simply. She doesn’t apologize again before hanging up, just presses the button and hops to her feet. The cold has sunk into her bones by now, even through all of that expensive winter clothing, and it takes closer to an hour to get back to the house. It’s hard for her to feel very apologetic, though, when her mother immediately starts fussing about how dirty her clothes are and how tangled her hair is and not the almost blue color of her fingertips.

It takes hours to get ready for the party, and she doesn’t know where all of the time even goes. Hair, makeup, clothes, decorations, food, all of these things were settled so far in advance, so how can it still take until almost noon to get it all in order? By the time of the party, Pacifica is so tired she can barely muster up the energy to smile at the right people and make the right kinds of small talk. She’s sure it hardly helps that she doesn’t even like most of these people, and the few she does like don’t really like her back.

By the time dinner is being served (each attendee gets their own roasted quail and a side of rice pilaf), the only thing she wants to do is run away and hide in her room. She does the next best thing: lounging on a chaise in the parlor her parents keep their still-lightly-mud-stained white rug in when they have guests over, where people are strictly forbidden to enter, scrolling through Tittat videos on her phone. When she hears the door creak open, she knows it must be one of her parents, and she’s not sure which one she wants to see less.

“I have something for you,” her mother’s voice says, and Pacifca doesn’t really have to fight not to cringe because she’s been suppressing it her whole life, but she still feels something curl up unpleasantly inside her. Great, so I have to pretend to be grateful now.

“Mom, I thought that we were doing presents after dessert,” she says, as though it’s actually possible Priscilla forgot her overstuffed itinerary for the night.

“Well, I can’t give you this one in front of everyone else,” Priscilla huffs, and that only makes Pacifica’s dread grow. When her mother sits at the foot of the chaise, she holds out a wine glass, and Pacifica stares. “I want you to meet my friend Chardonnay.”

“Mom, I’m turning sixteen. I’m still not old enough to drink.”

Priscilla rolls her eyes. “Oh hush. I’m doing something nice for you.”

Pacifica doesn’t exactly know how giving her a glass of wine is doing something nice for her, but she knows better than to argue at this point. She takes the glass and takes a tentative sip. She doesn’t have any of the fancy adjectives to describe a very expensive glass of wine. She doesn’t know anything about tannins or acidity or barrel aging or whatever.

It’s bitter. She can’t completely stop herself from cringing, and Priscilla laughs at her. “Yep, I remember that. It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Pacifica stares again. Her mother gave her bad wine on purpose? “You get used to it, eventually. You’re going to have to, being a member of this family. It’s the only way to get through these awful parties.”

“You don’t like the parties?”

Her mother laughs again, and there’s a bitter note there that she hardly recognizes. “Goodness no. Does anyone?” Pacifica’s brows pinch together. Then why do we keep having them? She wants to ask. “Sweetheart, I know being a Northwest isn’t easy. When I first married your father, I was petrified by all of the… rules and systems. I was sure I’d never be able to learn all of it.”

Priscilla stares down into her own glass of wine, and Pacifica watches her face. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks and nose that Pacifica is familiar with after a lifetime of exposure. She must be drunk already, which is impressive, because her father strictly forbids cracking the wine open before dinner at parties. Day-drinking is a private pastime, something Pacifica supposes isn’t classy enough to be associated with the Northwests.

“But it’s for our own good, right? These are the things that we have to do to maintain our lifestyle. And isn’t that worth it?” This is not a light Pacifica has ever seen her mother in before. Never before in her life has she ever been given any reason to think that Priscilla might resent all of the conventions they’ve been forced into as much as Pacifica does. You just don’t get it, she’d told Dipper once, and maybe she doesn’t get it either.

“The day you were born, your father and I still hadn’t chosen a name for you,” her mother says, and if there was some segue into the topic, Pacifica missed it in her introspection. It seems more likely that there wasn’t any. “We knew that we wanted it to start with a ‘P’ because both of our names did. That’s the sort of opportunity that doesn’t come up very often, you know. We figured early on that you would be our only child, so we might as well make you stand out, right? But it was almost impossible to find a name suitably dramatic. And then you were born on Christmas and everything was so hectic, and we worried you were going to end up with no name at all.”

Pacifica settles back against the chaise and takes another sip from her wine, and she manages to ignore the taste for how interested she is in her mother’s story. “They put you in my arms and you immediately started crying, and I thought, ‘Great, she already hates me.’” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it, something that jabs painfully at Pacifica’s chest. “But after a minute you calmed down, and then you looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and I thought they looked just like the ocean. ‘The Pacific ocean,’ I thought, and then I grinned at your father. Pacifica Northwest. It sounded like an actress’ name. It was perfect.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent minute, and Pacifica’s brows furrow. What was the point of telling her this? Was there any point, or is it just some of Mom’s drunken rambling? Priscilla reaches out to grab a strand of her hair and opens her mouth to talk some more, but she’s cut off by Pacifica’s phone ringing, and Pacifica startles to angle the phone so the screen isn’t visible because she knows exactly who’s calling and her mother does not need to see. “I’ll let you get that. Cake in 30 minutes, okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” she agrees, and her heart pounds with anxiety that she’s going to miss the call while she waits for Mom to leave the room before she answers. She almost drops the phone in her rush to finally hit the green button.

“Hey!” Dipper’s voice comes through a little tinny, which is a quality that Pacifica is used to when talking on the phone to anyone outside of Gravity Falls. She doesn’t know if there’s a scientific explanation, but it always feels like the rest of the world is just… dulled.

“Hey,” she says back, and whatever clawing sense of anxiety or discomfort had been lingering in her chest since Mom came into the room finally dissipates. “You’re early, I’m gonna have to go for cake and presents soon.”

“Your parents are giving you cake and presents?”

She snorts, bringing her hand up like she can catch the noise before it reaches him. “There’s still a whole party of people here to convince that we’re a happy family.”

“Ah, that explains it then,” he says, and she can hear the grin on his voice. He needs to get with the times and get a uPhone so she can see his face without going all the way upstairs to get on her computer. “So you don’t know which kind of sports car they got you yet?”

She laughs again as she hops up to her feet and starts the trek back to her room. “Oh please. They’re not going to get me a car. That’d be too much freedom. They couldn’t threaten not to let the chauffeur drive me to work anymore.” She rolls her eyes.

“They have to get you a car. It’s the whole sweet 16 package: Big fancy party with your big fancy dress, a bunch of bratty rich girls you can’t stand, and some luxury vehicle that costs more than my house. If they don’t get you a car, they don’t sell it.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughs, bedroom door swinging shut behind her. She glances at her bed for a second, but if she lays down, she’s not going to get up again, and as nice as the idea of falling asleep talking to Dipper sounds, there’s still the rest of the party to get through. As she sinks into her desk chair, she sighs and says, “Did you do anything for the holiday?”

“Oh, you mean Just Some Friday Day? Yeah, we got Chinese food and watched cheesy romcoms. I guess it’s sort of a stereotype, but I think that’s kind of why we do it in the first place? It’s hard to explain.”

“Just Some Friday Day, huh? Wow, so I mean nothing to you.” He practically cackles on the other end, and she grins.

“Right, how could I forget the most important holiday, Pacifica Northwest’s Birthday? That’s why all the banks were closed.”

“Damn straight. What would they even need to be open for? All of the people with money are in my living room.” Another laugh. She sinks back in the chair, pressing the power button on her desktop with her toes as she asks, “Can I call you on DistantChat?”

“Is that such a good idea with your parents still prowling around downstairs?” He asks, with a legitimate tinge of worry to his voice. “I mean, you know I always like seeing you, but I don’t wanna get you in trouble or anything.”

“Oh come on. It’s my birthday, they can’t yell at me for calling a friend. Plus, there’s too many people still here for them to yell at me.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then, “...Okay. Let me get my laptop.”

It takes a minute for him to get everything set up, and they stay on the phone while he does even though it’s mostly Dipper mumbling to himself and the rustling of pieces of paper on his desk. When he calls her, he’s in bed, and he’s not wearing that stupid hat for once, so she can see peeks of his birthmark through his fringe.

“You need a haircut,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, without any input from her on the matter, and he laughs.

“You sound like Grunkle Stan. That was the first thing he said when we picked him and Great Uncle Ford up at the docks for Channukah. Kid, you need a haircut.” His impression of his uncle is terrible, and it makes her laugh, throwing her head back and her hand over her mouth.

When she’s done, his cheeks are a little flushed, but she can’t really call him out on it because her cheeks are a little flushed, too, so they sit in silence for a minute. “I like the dress,” he says eventually.

The camera quality of the call isn’t great. In the video, the delicate white lace that makes it look as though there are flowers painted directly onto her chest and shoulders just look like blurry polka dots (where they’re even visible), and the lace stops being visible completely at the sweetheart neckline of the bodice portion of the dress. Not only that, but from the angle of the camera, the silky lavender band around her waist isn’t even visible, nor is the princess-style skirt that fluffs out down her body in an A-line that could give Princess Diana’s wedding dress a run for its money if it wasn’t only tea length. But, more importantly…

“Ugh, this? My mom picked it.”

“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, your mom was right. It looks really good on you,” he says, and she sees his cheeks flush a little darker. Again, not that she can say anything.

“...Thanks.” She still doesn’t love the dress, still wishes Mom had let her buy the hot pink one that was half the price, but it’s nice that Dipper likes it. She wants him to like her clothes.

They return to silence, and she thinks of all the things she’d like to say. She wants to joke that he should see how much better it’d look off of her. She wants to ask him what he got her for her birthday just to see his little panicked reaction. She wants to ask him if she can run away to his house in Piedmont and never come back.

Instead, she just watches his face. He always looks so tired these days, and she wonders if he ever sleeps at all if she’s not on the phone with him. She knows that sometimes he doesn’t get to sleep even when she is on the phone with him. Sometimes she wakes up and the time is still ticking on the call and he seems startled when she mumbles good morning.

“Pacifica!” Mom’s voice calls up the stairs, and she almost jumps out of her skin. “It’s time for the cake and the presents, dear,” she says, and the pet name makes her wrinkle her nose.

“I have to go,” she says. She’d rather do anything in the world than hang up, and she thinks it shows, because Dipper looks more than a little guilty.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just sit here staring at you,” he says, and if she didn’t have to go she’d probably tease him for it. “Let me know what kind of car you get. I bet it’ll be an Edison. Your dad is just like that guy.”

She laughs. “Can I call you again later? Like, for bed or… something?” She asks, speaking quickly so he can’t hear the desperation in her voice.

“Of course,” he says without even a second of hesitation, and it makes her chest squeeze with fondness.

She ends the call without saying goodbye. She usually does. She hates saying goodbye, and it’s not like she won’t talk to him later, anyway. Still, she lingers at her desk for an extra second after the call is over like she’s waiting for him to call her back and scold her for it or something. She knows that he won’t. Even though they joke a lot about how terrible she used to be, Dipper rarely takes it upon himself to correct her for her social missteps, not unless she directly hurts him or Mabel by it.

Her eyes slide down to her desk drawer, and with a paranoid glance at her door, she pulls it open.

Emancipation papers.

Printing them out had marked her very first use of the Gravity Falls Library, a service her parents believed was for poor people. Once they’re filed, she guesses that’ll be her. It’d be nice if they bought me a car before I was out of here.

“Pacifica! What are you doing up there? You’re keeping everyone waiting.”

She shoves the drawer closed and trudges back downstairs.

They don’t get her a car. Giving her that much control over her own life would be against the rules, wouldn’t it? But when she calls Dipper later that night, he assures her that she’s welcome to use his car whenever she wants once she gets out of there, and she knows that he means it.

[mmgwritings]

I'M GONNA TAKE MINE OF YOU WITH ME

Character: Kaz Brekker / Wife! Reader

Prompts: There is a word for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose a child.

Warnings: Canon divergence; Angst; Character death; Grief; Kaz suffering; i'm sorry :(

Never trust the Saints; they give and take away.

Initially, a curfew was imposed. Without prior warning, patrol officers closed all clubs, brothels and merchant mansions, causing a commotion among the population that was soon violently suppressed. Later, when the disease spread from the interior of Kesh to the suburbs of Ketterdam, the healers' homes became crowded, and before long even the healers needed the assistance of the Grisha in the merchants' hospital.

Thus, Ketterdam remembered how to act. They had faced an epidemic before and would face this one with the same practicality. The funeral bells echoed incessantly throughout the day, while the bay south of the city was used to transport the bodies, piled on fishing vessels confiscated by the Council of the Tides. The former party town, Ketterdam, has transformed into a highly efficient funeral operation.

Burials were strictly prohibited. Thus, when the boats failed to remove bodies from the city quickly enough, in less favored neighborhoods, residents were forced to dispose of their loved ones on improvised pyres in the middle of the street.

This was the first scene we saw upon arriving in Ketterdam through the northwest gate, when the carriage had to make an abrupt stop in front of a pile of twisted ashes, which at first glance appeared to be the remains of slaughtered animals. However, horror soon hit us when the coachman, in a state of shock, vomited and exclaimed: “They are people, Saints, they are people!”

From the windows of the houses along the street, I could briefly see thin faces peering through the cracks in the windows. They were, without a doubt, the relatives of those poor burned creatures. Their looks were blank, as if they had already resigned themselves to the idea that the remains of their loved ones would end up on the street. I hastily closed the windows to hide the cruelty, but it remained etched in my eyes even when I closed them.

The trip was quick and extremely stressful, from Lij to the capital it was just two days of march that lasted the longest a lifetime. The exhausted horses showed visible signs of fatigue when the coachman left us at the hospital doors. However, as quick as it was, it apparently wasn't enough. The little girl was remarkably pale, her lips were dyed purple and her eyes were trembling under the weight of nightmares caused by the fever. My dear girl, a gift bestowed by the saints, the reward for any act of benevolence I have done in this world.

My mother used to say that the saints' mercy was unfair to mortals, because, as divine beings, they no longer understood the pain of any sacrifice, they no longer understood what it was like to lose someone. They were above everything and everyone. But I was a stupid young woman, I ignored my poor mother's advice because I thought it was the condescending words of a woman with pagan customs.

“Mommy,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with exhaustion, her eyes barely opening.

"I'm here my love. It’s going to be okay,” I whispered as I took her small, feverish body into my arms. At the beginning of the year, I could barely hold her on my lap for long, she was growing fast and turning into a beautiful, healthy five year old. Now, feeling how light her body was in my arms, my heart squeezed with pain.

Despite it being the early hours of the morning, a small crowd was sitting on the steps. They were probably sick people, but not sick enough to get a bed inside the hospital. I was trying to carefully pass between them, when, at the door, Nina appeared.

She was dressed in the black clothes of the doctors, with the distinctive blue apron of the merchants' wing, stained with small drops of blood.

“Y/N, come this way, sweetheart. I’ve already prepared everything for her,” said Nina, her kind face and caring voice leading me down a corridor to the east of the main hall. She was different since the last time I saw her, during the holidays. She looked sterner than ever.

“Any news from him? Did Kaz send any letters? Do you think he will arrive today?” I asked as I followed Nina through a corridor packed with doctors, heartrenders, healers and all sorts of people. I must admit that, little by little, the composure I had managed to maintain during the last two days of the journey from Lij to Ketterdam was starting to crumble. Felt like I was on the edge of an abyss, spiraling into darkness.

Nina looked at me with sadness as she led me into a small, but well-lit room with a comfortable bed, where I rested my daughter. She was in a restless sleep and quietly muttering nonsense words, the fever must be getting worse.

“Kaz didn't send any letters, none of them. Y/N, they must be on the way,” Nina reassured me. “Now, I need you to stay calm for her, please. We will examine her immediately, but you also need to undergo tests. You could be as sick as she is.”

“No, you don’t need to. I'm not going to leave her alone here” I said, freeing myself from Nina's hands the moment when a tall, tired-looking man entered the room, he seemed to be middle-aged, even though he was visibly a Grisha.

Nina walked over to him and they started talking in whispers, probably discussing the situation. It was not uncommon for merchants and their families to seek privileges in cases of calamity, but being Kaz Brekker's family, these privileges often extended to any kind of perk. Obviously, by now, the entire hospital knows that the wife and daughter of Ketterdam's biggest criminal are looking for help.

I sat next to my daughter, holding her soft hand and massaging her temple with my fingertips. Just like she is my joy, she is Kaz’s world. The gravity, the humanity, the warmth that keeps him alive. She looks much more like him: her light eyes, her dark hair and even her pert nose. At times, they seemed to share the same thoughts, to the point where I felt like I was somehow invading their space. She was his world.

Kaz would be able to destroy cities to protect her from her enemies, but that would not be enough to protect her from death.

Death came. It invaded my life so abruptly that I didn't even have time to cry for mercy. One moment, my daughter was in a restless sleep, and the next, she was convulsing, with blood pouring from her eyes and nose... The harrowing sounds were the most terrifying, they seemed to echo endlessly in my mind; it was the sound of her choking as she tried to breathe through vomit.

When it was all over, as my daughter lay on the bed with her head at an awkward angle, a horrible sound filled the room, resembling a wounded animal. I couldn't take my eyes off her to find the source of that sound. Only then did I realize that I was the one issuing it.

Once, when I was a child and still enjoying my hunting adventures with my brothers, we witnessed a fox with its cub in a trap set by my father. The cub was trapped, one of its paws shattered between the iron teeth of the trap, it was still too small to understand human antics, and its mother, whether out of compassion or instinct, killed it before we could get closer.

In those minutes when I was afflicted with acute pain, I reflected on that fox mother facing the suffering of her cub. I thought about how I didn't have the same courage as her, about how I would rather rip my own legs off with my teeth and offer myself to the hunters in exchange for freeing my cub from his torment.

Later, when Nina released me from her embrace with a pale, tearful face, speaking words I could barely understand, I considered how naive both I and the hypothetical fox were being in placing our faith in the benevolence of a superior, divine being. Tearing out my legs, my heart, begging, crawling – would that make any difference? Probably not. Yet even so, I would be willing to sacrifice myself for centuries on end in exchange for my daughter's life.

When I got up from the ground, with shaky legs and still immersed in a painful lethargy, I walked over to my daughter. The heartrender had cleaned her face, but there were still bloodstains on the collar of her blue dress, the same one she had received as a birthday present from her father and which she loved because it made her feel like a fairy.

When I held her little face between my hands she was still warm, it seemed like at any moment she would wake up and smile and tell me it was just a trick. But it wasn't, I spent a long time holding her face waiting for this trick to end and it didn't happen.

When I placed a kiss on her forehead, my tears fell on her face. It was an eternal kiss, I didn't want it to end, I didn't want it to be the last. However, when I pulled away, Nina wrapped me in a comforting hug. Finally, she retreated to a corner of the room, leaving me alone to watch over my pain.

I held my daughter in my arms, I ran my fingers through her hair, her face, memorizing every little detail of her. Finally, when she was starting to feel cold and heavy, I moved closer to give her another kiss, and this time, it was Kaz's goodbye kiss.

It was outside the hospital that Kaz found me. Nina took me outside when a team of healers told us they needed the room. In Ketterdam, the city of death, they are very practical about sorting things out. I was sitting on one of the steps, trying to catch my breath and looking at nothing, when Kaz, Inej, Wylan and Jesper arrived in a grain truck.

I didn't understand what emptiness was, nor how distressing it could be. I had no idea that it could be deafening, that the blood would rush through my veins and that everything around me would feel cold to the touch. Emptiness was the absence of all emotions, and at the same time, it contained them all. And the pain of emptiness made it extraordinarily difficult to notice anything around me other than the image of Kaz.

He was disheveled, his black coat was dirty with dust, and his hair was messy, as if he had spent the last few hours pulling out the strands. His usually restrained blue eyes were showing all of his emotions. A shadow hovered over them, something I had never seen before: fear. And I didn't know how to act other than getting up, walking a few steps, and finally succumbing at Kaz's feet in the hope that the ground would swallow me.

My breathing is heavy and shallow, sobs tear from my throat. There were no more tears, it seems that I was no longer able to produce them, however, a rain began to fall on us, as if it could cry what I was unable to. Above me, Kaz was standing still. He was like a wall that refused to fall under a storm, under the weight of reality. He refuses to vocalize whatever he's thinking, I think he's also feeling empty. It's as if any trace of humanity has been drained from him.

Would he become Dirtyhands, being all practical while he waits for the poor creature I've become at his feet to pull herself together? Or would he become the fox cub caught in the trap, hoping I could rip his throat out when he, for the first time in his life, didn't have a plan to get around the situation?

“Y/N, darling,” whispered Inej, as if calling my name could tie me to the ropes of the earth again. Besides, what else could she say?

Is this the moment when I would hear the lamentations, the pity, that would follow me for the rest of my life when they found out about the daughter I lost?

“She's gone,” I said, lifting my head and looking at Kaz. “We were waiting for you... but she got worse, so I came to Ketterdam. I really thought she would get better, but she's gone, Kaz” my voice broke completely.

I think whatever strength had kept Kaz up until that moment was gone. He turned his back on us, walking toward the side of the building, his steps swaying as if he were drunk, until finally he collapsed. A scream tore through his chest, a scream of rage, of frustration and sadness. But above all pain.

There is a definition for children who lose their parents, but there is none for parents who lose their children.

What are we now? A mother without a child? What would I do now? Just go home and put all her things together in a box like party decorations?

I got up and walked over to Kaz, hugging him from behind. We lay huddled in the rain, me holding Kaz's body as he thrashed about in a horrible cry. I offered whatever comfort I had: I kissed his head, whispered empty words, held him close to me. If I wasn't a mom, then Kaz wasn't a dad.

He would never hold her in his arms again, he wouldn't smile when she played with his gloves, which were too big, and he wouldn't stand by her bed on sleepless nights, watching her sleep.

“Kaz, she loves you more than anything” I said. Loved, whispered my treacherous brain. Then, fighting the lump in my throat, I said, “They've already put her with the dead people.”

Kaz shuddered, the crying became silent. The vision no parent, least of all Kaz, wants to imagine. Like any other death in Ketterdem, whether of the poor or the rich, our daughter's would be treated with little ceremony. No mourning, no funeral.

She, who was always warm, was now alone in the cold of the Harbor.

On the days when Kaz couldn't bear any touch, she was the one who defied him by clasping her little hands around his neck. Or on the worst days, when he came from the Barrel with someone's blood on his sleeve, she covered him with kisses and smiles. Kaz loved her the moment he saw her, covered in blood, wet, crying... and warm. When she was a baby he treated her like porcelain, if he could he wouldn't even let me touch her.

My hands met Kaz's, he was clutching his chest as if he wanted to rip out his own heart. I held him, afraid that he would somehow disappear under the weight of his own grief. If he leaves too...

“On the trip, when she was awake, I told her that you love her. That you love her so, so much,” I whispered in his ear. Then, the worst. “I gave her your kiss goodbye”

How can we survive this?

“No, Y/N,” Kaz said in a pleading tone, “I’m sorry, please. I'm so sorry"

When we lack words, guilt appears. It's our fault? Were we really that horrible?

The Saints. They give and they take.

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You - Part 10 (Penelope x Colin)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

A03 link if that’s more your jam

Colin awoke with a start. His body was covered in sweat, his heart drumming in his chest. Complete darkness surrounded his bedchamber, exacerbating his jittery nerves. After taking a minute to settle his mind, he lit the candle next to his bed, slid off the bed and put on a shirt and trousers over his naked form. Desperate for some air, he walked out of the chamber, silently making his way along the extended hallway and down the staircase before grabbing his coat to head out to the gardens. The air outside was cool and crisp, exactly what he needed to soothe his frayed mind from the cursed nightmares that had been torturing him.

Since his last conversation with Penelope a week ago, he’d been haunted by dreams of her with other men. The first couple of nights his subconscious mind had conjured up the most horrific images of faceless men fucking Penelope. His Penelope. However, the nightmares from the past three nights had been far worse. Because it was no longer just visions of Penelope being seduced. No. The night before last he had dreamt of her marrying a faceless prick in the church. Last night Benedict painted her nude form while she fed his brother cake in return. And tonight was the fucking worst. Fife – Fife! – had his arm around Penelope, hugging her, holding her, while the two danced and laughed together. Just the thought of it made him want to stab Fife repeatedly, his hand instinctively forming a fist.

Images of her with all these other men elicited such a visceral reaction in him that he spent most of the week in bed, feeling sick to his stomach. But enough was enough.

He came to a stop at the farthest edge of the Bridgerton garden, bringing him in close proximity of the Featherington property. Leaning against a tree, he watched the building in front of him. The mansion was dark, it appeared everyone was asleep.  Penelope’s bedroom wrapped around the northwest corner of the property, allowing him viewing access to the front window. The one and only time he had snuck into her room he had used the window on the west corner, so he wouldn’t be visible to others on the street. Right away his mind rushed to that night, the memories ingrained into his brain. The feel of her sweet, luscious body, the way she moaned his name as she touched herself, his cock sliding along her magnificent tits – fuck! Colin shook his head. Stop. He had to stop. Because he couldn’t fucking think when he was caught up in those sensations.

Anger surged through him as his eyes trailed back up to Penelope’s bedroom. The windows were closed, the room dark. She was probably sleeping without a care in the world while he hadn’t experienced a single moment of peace in weeks. The nightmares may have started recently but Pen had been weighing heavily in his mind ever since the Danbury ball. That was the night she had lambasted him about his unfortunate words from last season, and consequently his world had shifted on its axis. Of course he didn’t fault Pen; she had every right to be furious with him. After playing the hero for the Featherington ladies he had been full of himself and celebrated with one too many drinks. Foxed out of his mind, he grew increasingly irritated by Fife’s taunts and decided to shut him down. Unfortunately his ego stroke came at the expense of Penelope.  There were no excuse for his behaviour. He was an ass and deserved the tongue lashing, but what took him by surprise was how seductive Penelope’s rage had been. Dressed like a siren, the Penelope in front of him had been a fiery, intoxicating goddess and not the shy, sweet girl he grew up with. It was the first time she had revealed herself to him truly, and from that day on he was completely transfixed.

He inhaled a cold, deep breath as Penelope’s secret engagement flashed through his mind. She was engaged. Engaged. To another man. A man who was allowed to touch her and fuck her, hold her, comfort her, sleep beside her. She would marry this man and bear his children. She would take his name and build a life with him. Smile with him. Laugh with him. Love him.

Nausea hit him like a tidal wave. He bent over to retch, his body trying to expel all thoughts of Penelope with another man out of his physical form – but nothing came out. He dry heaved instead. Ironic. Even when she was making him sick, his body didn’t want to give her up. After a few more attempts, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before walking forward and crossing over to Featherington property. No doubt if someone were to see him now they would think him crazy but Colin didn’t care. He couldn’t go back to sleep, he needed to be close to her.

She had confessed to being in love with him. Not her secret lover, but him. Yet she’d turned down his proposal anyway. Colin wasn’t a fool, he knew exactly why. She wouldn’t marry him because he didn’t love her. A heavy weight lodged in his chest remembering the pained expression on her face when he confessed the truth. If he knew how excruciating it would be to have Penelope sever their relationship he would have happily lied. Unfortunately he chose truth and now had to pay the price for that honesty.

It's not like he didn’t want to be in love with Penelope. Things would be so much easier if he was, but what he felt for her wasn’t love. Because love was good, it was pure and kind, it brought out the best in people and made them want to be better for each other. His parents were deeply in love, and their relationship was forged from kinship and selflessness. Anthony, so cantankerous and domineering in the past few years, was a different man after falling in love with Kate. She brought out the joyous side of him, reminding Colin of the brother he grew up with before their father died. Even his own feelings for Marina were closer to love than what he felt for Pen. With Marina he was noble, not even tempted to kiss her because he was determined to be a true gentleman. But Penelope. A harsh breath escaped him. She was in his blood, running through his veins, calling out to him every minute of every day. Being good and kind, making a name for himself – all of his earlier pursuits no longer mattered. The only thing that did was being with her.

The depth of his feelings for her terrified him but not as much as the thought of not being with her. He would do anything for her. Whatever it took, no matter the consequences. If he had to risk her reputation to make her his, so be it. If he had to burn the whole world down, he would. What he felt for Penelope was caustic and dangerous. It made him selfish and desperate and volatile. It was all-consuming, leaving space for nothing else in his soul but her. 

There was no comfort in what he felt for Penelope. Around her he was aroused, excited, elated. Frightened, because every moment he was with her he was also paranoid about losing her. Fear and ecstasy coursed through him when she was near, her eyes on him, her body close to his. He couldn’t breathe around her, his heart constantly pounding. And he didn’t even want to think about how painful it was to be away from Penelope. The ache in his chest was palpable, it physically hurt, wounding him deeper and deeper. It was only her touch that stopped the pain from searing through him. None of it made sense, nothing did anymore.

It didn’t used to be like this. In the past their friendship had been earnest and meaningful; they shared their hopes, their dreams.  Looking back, however, he realized their relationship had been superficial in nature because Pen always held herself back. Like she purposely only showed him the good parts of herself, never the flaws - no fear, no sadness, nothing remotely real. The only time he remembered any discontent was when she had tried to warn him about Marina but even then he had been able to sway her easily. But things were different now, she was different. She no longer attempted to hide behind a mask of happy emotions to appease him. There was an assuredness in her which meant she wasn’t guarded around him anymore. He liked seeing her heightened emotions, liked watching her unravel in front of him. Because it meant he wasn’t the only one out of control.  They were both spiraling, because of each other.   

Under no circumstances would Penelope marry anyone else, not as long as he was alive. He would never allow it. She belonged to him; they were connected forever. She owned his mind, his heart, his very soul and he owned hers. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t a virgin. The past was the past, and he was her future.

Resolved in his decision, he started walking forward. One week was enough without Penelope, he wasn’t going to waste any more time away from her. Intending to climb up, he made his way towards where her chamber was located when the sight of a hooded figure exiting the far corner entrance caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks. For weeks now he had watched Penelope, studied her intently, her face, her hair, her curves, the way she moved through a crowd, how she danced – and he had catalogued every inch of her, including her gait. That’s how he knew with full certainty it was Penelope sneaking away from her home despite the oversized cape and hidden features.

Immediately red-hot anger coursed through him. Where was she going so late at night? To meet her lover? Jealousy burned inside him. His nausea returned with a vengeance but he ignored it through sheer willpower. No. Absolutely not. He was willing to accept a past lover but that’s where he drew the line. She was his. His. And he would kill anyone who tried to take her from him.

He trailed behind her while she crossed several streets, keeping his distance so she wouldn’t notice him. After she jumped into a hired hack, he did the same, following behind her until she came to a stop in front of a rundown tavern in Bloomsbury. 

This was no place for a lady yet his fucking Penelope waltzed inside the establishment like she owned the place. His temper rose exponentially, it took everything in him not to grab her and drag her home. But he knew that would be a mistake; he needed to know who she was meeting and surveilling her was the only way.

The tavern was loud and busy, filled with rowdy drunks and lascivious women. What the fuck was Penelope doing here? Colin scanned the crowd until he finally spotted her sitting in a far corner. Her face may have been hidden but he recognized her anyway. Like finding her here wasn’t troubling enough, he felt even more disgusted when he saw the man conversing with her. Because Colin knew who it was, had seen him conduct business with both Anthony and various other men amongst the ton.

He was a solicitor and old enough to be Penelope’s grandfather.

To be continued...

A/N:I hope Colin's POV was a bit illuminating on where his thoughts landed on Penelope. Also hope it wasn't disappointing :)

Your feedback is truly loved and cherished. If you're so inclined, I would love to read your thoughts! And so excited for the show to come back this week!

[thisisnotawebsitedotcom-com]

Computer Code: PLATINUM PAZ

A story of a nightmare of Pacifica will be shown.

The text says:

Pacifica stormed into her palatial bedroom and slammed the door so hard her chandeliers shook. (There were at least 3 chandeliers in Pacifica’s room, including a teensy chandelier over her nightlight.) She buried her head in a velvet pillow and screamed for an inhumanly long time, then flopped over and stewed at the painted cherubs on her ceiling. It wasn’t FAIR. After everything she did for her parents- get up at 5 for fencing lessons, beauty pageants, fox-hunting, butler-hunting, cleaning up the black feathers after dads weird “grown up masquerade parties”- THIS is how they repay her? HER! PACIFICA ELISA NORTHWEST?!

It had been a rough summer for Pacifica- first she came alarmingly close to losing a Party Crown, then her golf skills were called into question, and now her parents grounded her for literally saving the entire family from a Category 10 ghost and shut off the spigot on her caviar tap for rest of the year. What was she supposed to eat now? Dog Food? She angrily opened her mini-fridge and pulled out an UpperCrustablesTM brand snack pack and angrily spread the caviar on the tiny baguette. “Ugh, why does it come with this dumb little stick? The caviar always gets stuck in the CORNERS!”

She looked at a napkin where Dipper had written the shack’s phone number in case killing the ghost might have created a “double ghost.” Ha! As if she would put HIS number in HER phone.

Everything in her life used to make so much more sense before those PINES twins came along and screwed everything up. That stupid Mabel and her baffling, undeserved confidence. That know-it-all sweat stain Dipper who’s giant head was always butting against hers. Something about Dipper’s words had knocked over a domino in her mind that started a chain reaction that was causing her whole identity to come crashing down. He told her she had potential to change into…a better person? How do you become a better person when you’re already the best person? It didn’t make sense!

Thinking about it exhausted her, and soon, her eyelids began to droop.

Soon she was...

Zzzz...

In Pacifica’s dream, she was freshening up at a party washing her hands when she noticed something... red swirling in the drain.

In horror, she discovered her hands were covered in blood, and no matter how hard she scrubbed them, they wouldn’t come clean. On the mirror, words slowly started two write themselves on their own, as if by an invisible hand…

BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS

“NO, NO, IT’S NOT MY FAULT!”

An overpowering sense of guilt swelled inside as she fled to the ballroom for help, where she spotted her friends gossiping by a tapestry. She tried to flip them around, but when she grabbed their shoulders, they fell over, flat, They were... cardboard? She turned to her parents, and they fell over flat too. The entire party was filled with flat, 2D people, everyone was fake. Blood began to fill the ballroom, pouring from the clock, from the paintings, from the ceiling. Why was this happening?! She raced through her manor in a blind panic, when she discovered she was no longer in the mansion, but outside in Gravity Falls. When she looked down, she realized she was now 100 feet tall, and every step she made was wrecking the town. She knocked over the mudflap factory, polluting the river. She knocked over the orphanage, sending coughing soot-covered children out into the cold.

She kept apologizing, but she was too big, too public, every step hurting more and more people. Everyone could see that the town’s problems were her fault. She was a monster. She always had been. She always would be.

Pacifica started sobbing and suddenly, she was a little girl again, hiding behind the vine-covered tombstones in the graveyard behind the Manor after another one of her parents fights. The graves of her ancestors loomed above her like gargoyles, great Northwests in history. What would they say if they could see her like this?

One of the statues slowly turned to face Pacifica. It was Nathaniel Northwest.

“Get a hold of yourself. You’re a Northwest, people can’t know you leak shame-water.”

“You’re right,” Pacifica apologized, and hastily took out her compact to clean her smeared makeup. She cursed as she saw how dishevelled she was.

The statue watched her like a cat hungrily watching a mouse.

“You have a lot of anger, don’t you.”

“Anyone whose not angry is an idiot. There’s so much to be mad about.”

“Yes. Anger is good. Anger is useful. Who are you angry at, Pacifica?”

“Everything was better before the PINES came to town...”

“You know, I might be able to help with that... there’s something I want. The Mystery Shack is going to be getting some new merchandise very soon. A small snow globe, nothing anyone would miss. If you could shoplift it for me, I could guarantee things would change. You’d never deal with the Pines again...”

Pacifica closed her compact. Would that fix everything?

“It would be so easy... all you have to do to get your old life back is shake...my...hand”

The statue extended its stony hand. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Slowly she reached out to shake- then abruptly stopped. Something was off.

“My old life... wasn’t really mine, was it? All I ever did was follow my mom and dad. Maybe... it would be better to...make a new one.”

The STATUE BELLOWED with RAGE.

“MAKE? HA! YOU INHERIT. YOUR FAMILY LEGACY IS ALL YOU’RE WORTH. YOU MAKE NOTHING. YOU CAN’T EVEN MAKE FRIENDS.”

This had always been true... in the past.

His hand extended toward her. Looming. Trembling. She remembered a time when a hand extended toward her, offering a free snack in the back seat of a car.

“MAKE THE DEAL YOU LITTLE FAKE BLONDE IMPENDING PATERNITY TEST”

Pacifica’s face relaxed. She knew it was cliché, but she knew she had to do it. She slowly extended her hand. Just as the giant lichen-covered hand was about to close around hers like a cage of stone fingers, she swung her arm up and behind her head.

“Sike.”

“WHAT?!”

“Too slow!”

“YOU WORM!!!! YOU WORTHLESS WASTE OF STOLEN INCOME!!!! YOU’LL NEVER AMOUNT TO ANYTHING. I SEE A FUTURE WHERE YOU’RE PENNILESS, WORKING AT THE DINER, YOU’LL HAVE NOTHING, YOU-”

The statue shook with rage, sending cracks from its hand all the way up to its shrieking head. It crumbled apart in front of her, screaming in pain.

GONG!

Pacifica awoke with a start, panting. The clock in the hallway had struck 3 AM. She was covered in sweat. What had she been dreaming about? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to remember.

She wasn’t quite sure why, but she removed a tapestry that she’d always had on her wall. Something her family had no doubt looted ages ago- of a glowing triangle over the mountains. She rolled it up and put it in the closet and locked the padlock. Maybe she should hold onto Dipper’s number just in case. She entered it into her phone and felt an odd sense of calm suddenly wash over her. It was quiet once again in Northwest Manor.

Pacifica slept better than she had in years.

There is a hidden cipher below all the text:

VWDB DZDB IURP KHU FLSKHU. VKH KDV WKH SURWHFWLRQ RI WKH OXPEHUIRONV VSLULWV.

[jesse-pinko]

More OC art and lore nobody asked for! Matilda, Dipper and Mabel all growed up :’)

More unsolicited Matilda lore:

- Will magically grow her hair long sometimes so that Mabel can braid it

- Absolutely not above tormenting her siblings by telepathically projecting annoying songs into their heads (Blanchin’) when she’s mad at them

- Has been doing ballet since she was itty bitty; I’m thinking as an adult she joins a (much less antagonistic) Susperia-esque dancing company/coven

- Episode of “Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained” where her siblings attempt to confirm/disprove stereotypes about witches using Matilda as a test subject, she is an enthusiastic participant (ex: sister does not melt when you throw water balloons at her)

- Bill cannot possess her or even appear in her dreams (unbeknownst to both of them this is because she technically already possesses a Euclydian soul and is equivalent to him in power)

- She can enter other people’s dreams and often intervenes with Ford’s nightmares about Bill

- Ford initially interprets her distrust of him as her thinking he’s “uncool” and tries to win her over by using painfully dated slang words to seem more “with it”, which becomes a running joke between them when they become closer, with both of them throwing eighties slang terms into their everyday conversations, to everyone’s annoyance

- Was totally nonverbal as a little kid, though Dipper and Mabel could always understand her (they didn’t think too much of it at the time, but she was basically just communicating with them telepathically). This was in part because it was difficult for her soul to adjust to being human, but a few months after she started talking she went back to being nonverbal because nobody seemed to want to hear what she had to say (she knew things she shouldn’t and could predict the future). She finally started speaking for good at around age 7

- She starts smoking cigarettes after the discovery of her previous incarnation when she’s in high school, developing a persistent nicotine addiction

- Uses her powers to help both McGucket and Stan recover their memories. McGucket teaches her the banjo and hillbilly knee-slapping curse words

- In “Carpet Diem” Matilda discovers that she still has her powers while in another person’s body. Her siblings do not think this is fair, but do ask her to do cool magic stuff as them so they can film themselves doing cool magic stuff

- Apologies to fellow Dipcifica enjoyers but when I first forehead-spawned Matilda as a kid I very unoriginally paired her off with Pacifica and now I’m pretty attached to their relationship. So! Dipper is just as much of a presence in “Northwest Mansion Mystery” because it helps resolve both her and Matilda’s feelings of hostility toward Pacifica after the way she treated their sister, with Pacifica and Mabel already having put aside their rivalry in “The Golf War” but since I don’t particularly care for Mabel’s side story in this ep I’m thinking that Matilda has let Mabel kind of run roughshod over her for something or another, not maliciously of course, but putting their family’s wants before their own is something I think Matilda and Pacifica could bond over, and I can see Matilda being especially sympathetic because of how much harder Pacifica has it with her family. Pacifica is also surprised at Matilda’s admittance to being kind of a pushover, as she’s always seemed confident around Pacifica, genuinely confident in a way she admits to envying. She also admits, through gritted teeth, that she likes Matilda’s dress. And her hair. And her makeup. And not to tell anyone she said that.

- Tries to invent a potion or spell to extend a pig’s lifespan as a birthday gift for Mabel

- Letter to Bill in TBOB simply reads; “Dear Bill, if you are still alive, kys. Thanks, Matilda Pines”

- I think I want her to have a familiar that is one of Stan’s unholy taxidermy creations brought to life, but I’m not sure ab the design yet, or the design of her grimoire

- She’s pretty sure throughout the first season that Stan is lying to them about not believing in the supernatural, but thinks he’s just doing it to mess with Dipper

- If you’ve ever had a parent that you know has had a hard life and you want to fix it for them and protect them but feel helpless to do so as the child, you’ll have an idea of her relationship with Stan

[t-errifier]

𝛭𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝛢𝑒𝑠𝘵ℎ𝑒𝘵𝑖𝑐𝑠: 𝛨𝘰𝑟𝑟𝘰𝑟 𝛦𝑑𝑖𝘵𝑖𝘰𝑛

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

Tagged by: @madnessdescend

Tagging: @evilstalks , @tiffintine , @r1pleys , @obedientmade , @lotuskissed , @nosp1n

CLASSIC.

BLACK AND WHITE. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. CANNIBALISM. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. CLOWNS. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. MILK-WHITE SKIN. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. GLOVES. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. AXES. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

BLOODBATHS. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. GUNFIRE. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance

[vikasgarden]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: 𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔢𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. alcohol in glass decanters. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. dark alleys. empty streets. driving at night . horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. paranoia. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the american south. the american northeast. england. analog cameras.

𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. spiders. books.

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒. bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. suburbia. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. outdated television sets. nightmares psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. household objects turned into improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. character masks scrunchies. queerness. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. mausoleums. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at something you can’t see. black ooze. old photographs. faces you can swear you’ve seen before but can’t for the life of you figure out where. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 & 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw-marks. bite-marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. abandoned houses. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking / backpacking.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒. daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. asylums. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms with no one inside them. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. suspicion. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.

tagged by: @acedecoeur tagging: @vasted , @verflcht , @fireburial , @bvtchcr

[lexpape]

𝛭𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝛢𝑒𝑠𝘵ℎ𝑒𝘵𝑖𝑐𝑠: 𝛨𝘰𝑟𝑟𝘰𝑟 𝛦𝑑𝑖𝘵𝑖𝘰𝑛

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

Tagged by: @serpentsexile <3

Tagging: @burntpa1ace, @limel1ghts hand those freaks over-

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance.

[za-baransu]

MUSE AESTHETICS: HORROR EDITION.

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

TAGGED BY: my own stash TAGGING: mhm!

@quirofiliac ; @pwophet | @thusspoke | @nekurooma | @adenial | @baishouqijia | @kuraikyu | @determinazione | @zajevre | @owabisuru ; @gyakusama | @cinghialefedele | @keikakudori | @imagend | @yasuhtora ; @inouehs | @despairforme | @huntiburon | @deathleads | @jinjahime | @bornhollow | @hxbiris | @kamitakes | @lured-into-wonderland | @liecoris | @amaranthineoni | @deityforged [ and whoever wants to! just say i tagged you ]

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance

[r3loaded]

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 !

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white.  powder puffs.  red lipstick.  winged eyeliner.  white kitten heels.  black lace lingerie.  icy blue eyes.  rain.  abandoned cars.  skeletons.  acid.  poison.  voyeurism.  switchblades.  strangling.  overcoats.  looking over your shoulder.  trans-atlantic accents.  private detectives.  dinner parties.  haunted mansions.  cobwebs.  perfect blonde curls.  kitchen knives.  shock.  cellars.  dust.  ghosts.  dark alleys.  empty streets.  horn-rimmed glasses.  radiation.  zombies.  serial murder.  suspicion.  the city.  witches.  the devil.  cannibalism.  conspiracies.  amulets.  abject terror.  the American South.  the American Northeast.  England.  analog cameras.

CRYPTID  &  URBAN LEGEND.

aliens.  blinding light.  dark woods.  driving at night.  claw marks.  bite marks.  men in black.  memory loss.  dismembered bodies.  sewers.  flashlights.  cell phones.  video cameras.  cars with tinted windows.  unlabeled cassette tapes.  bugs.  big cities.  urban crimes.  clowns.  something rustling outside your window.  glowing light.  unsolved mysteries.  suburbia.  mirrors.  the american pacific northwest.  the american midwest.  hiking.  backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights.  corsets.  ballrooms.  candlelight.  mist.  starless nights.  full moons.  cobbled streets.  horse-drawn carriages.  mysterious strangers.  bogs.  moors.  forests.  mountains.  castles.  velvet.  silver.  brass.  gold.  jewels.  domino masks.  the opera.  dangerous romances.  tragic romances.  violins.  roses.  lilies.  empty graves.  crosses.  cemeteries.  snow.  ice.  the gallows.  crows.  milk-white skin.  ambiguous illness.  fangs.  pointed nails.  something howling in the night.  capes.  globes.  top hats.  straight razors.  lightning.  pipe organs.  underground caverns.  bats.  mice.  rats.  ravens.  cats.  pearls.  attics.  talismans.  axes.  wood.  isolation in a room full of people.  vampires.  werewolves.  ghosts.  coffins.  western europe.  eastern europe.  bones.  churches.  catacombs.  mausoleums.  books.  stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits.  seances.  spells.  missing bodies.  hidden graves.  white noise.  static.  flickering lights.  rings of salt.  demons.  poltergeists.  dark histories.  old buildings.  cold air.  wells.  urban exploration.  a dog barking at unseen things.  iconoclasm.  black ooze.  old photographs.  dark bodies of water.  crucifixes.  priests.  possession.  exorcisms.  dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths.  massacres.  wanton nudity.  newspapers.  leather jackets.  letterman jackets.  converse sneakers.  obscured faces.  social unrest.  bonfires.  lakes.  babysitters.  high school.  lockers.  dead leaves in the fall.  jack-o’-lanterns.  passing shadows.  outdated television sets.  nightmares.  psychiatrists.  hospitals.  unstoppable forces.  gunfire.  police.  landline telephones.  improvised weapons.  halloween.  secrets.  revelations.  cut wires.  character masks.  scrunchies.  wild curls.  jeering children.  parties.  fire.  swearing.  revulsion.  california.  the american midwest.  ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight.  fluorescent lighting.  morgues.  unwavering eye contact.  tension.  lit rooms.  empty rooms.  killer in plain sight.  a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed.  steely gazes.  paperwork.  anagrams.  codes.  convicted killers.  missing persons.  law enforcement.  federal agents.  small towns.  paranoia.  subdued terror.  dimly-lit parking lots.  a noise in the distance.

[recre8ed]

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 !

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white.  powder puffs.  red lipstick.  winged eyeliner.  white kitten heels.  black lace lingerie.  icy blue eyes.  rain.  abandoned cars.  skeletons.  acid.  poison.  voyeurism.  switchblades.  strangling.  overcoats.  looking over your shoulder.  trans-atlantic accents.  private detectives.  dinner parties.  haunted mansions.  cobwebs.  perfect blonde curls.  kitchen knives.  shock.  cellars.  dust.  ghosts.  dark alleys.  empty streets.  horn-rimmed glasses.  radiation.  zombies.  serial murder.  suspicion.  the city.  witches.  the devil.  cannibalism.  conspiracies.  amulets.  abject terror.  the American South.  the American Northeast.  England.  analog cameras.

CRYPTID  &  URBAN LEGEND.

aliens.  blinding light.  dark woods.  driving at night.  claw marks.  bite marks.  men in black.  memory loss.  dismembered bodies.  sewers.  flashlights.  cell phones.  video cameras.  cars with tinted windows.  unlabeled cassette tapes.  bugs.  big cities.  urban crimes.  clowns.  something rustling outside your window.  glowing light.  unsolved mysteries.  suburbia.  mirrors.  the american pacific northwest.  the american midwest.  hiking.  backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights.  corsets.  ballrooms.  candlelight.  mist.  starless nights.  full moons.  cobbled streets.  horse-drawn carriages.  mysterious strangers.  bogs.  moors.  forests.  mountains.  castles.  velvet.  silver.  brass.  gold.  jewels.  domino masks.  the opera.  dangerous romances.  tragic romances.  violins.  roses.  lilies.  empty graves.  crosses.  cemeteries.  snow.  ice.  the gallows.  crows.  milk-white skin.  ambiguous illness.  fangs.  pointed nails.  something howling in the night.  capes.  globes.  top hats.  straight razors.  lightning.  pipe organs.  underground caverns.  bats.  mice.  rats.  ravens.  cats.  pearls.  attics.  talismans.  axes.  wood.  isolation in a room full of people.  vampires.  werewolves.  ghosts.  coffins.  western europe.  eastern europe.  bones.  churches.  catacombs.  mausoleums.  books.  stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits.  seances.  spells.  missing bodies.  hidden graves.  white noise.  static.  flickering lights.  rings of salt.  demons.  poltergeists.  dark histories.  old buildings.  cold air.  wells.  urban exploration.  a dog barking at unseen things.  iconoclasm.  black ooze.  old photographs.  dark bodies of water.  crucifixes.  priests.  possession.  exorcisms.  dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths.  massacres.  wanton nudity.  newspapers.  leather jackets.  letterman jackets.  converse sneakers.  obscured faces.  social unrest.  bonfires.  lakes.  babysitters.  high school.  lockers.  dead leaves in the fall.  jack-o’-lanterns.  passing shadows.  outdated television sets.  nightmares.  psychiatrists.  hospitals.  unstoppable forces.  gunfire.  police.  landline telephones.  improvised weapons.  halloween.  secrets.  revelations.  cut wires.  character masks.  scrunchies.  wild curls.  jeering children.  parties.  fire.  swearing.  revulsion.  california.  the american midwest.  ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight.  fluorescent lighting.  morgues.  unwavering eye contact.  tension.  lit rooms.  empty rooms.  killer in plain sight.  a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed.  steely gazes.  paperwork.  anagrams.  codes.  convicted killers.  missing persons.  law enforcement.  federal agents.  small towns.  paranoia.  subdued terror.  dimly-lit parking lots.  a noise in the distance.

[lichthey]

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 : 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 !

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. globes. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance.

[madnessdescend]

𝛭𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝛢𝑒𝑠𝘵ℎ𝑒𝘵𝑖𝑐𝑠: 𝛨𝘰𝑟𝑟𝘰𝑟 𝛦𝑑𝑖𝘵𝑖𝘰𝑛

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

Tagged by: x (found) Tagging: @t-errifier @4rttm @taliaromanova @manufactoredxbyxdesign and anyone else who wants to do it!

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance

[darckcarnival]

MUSE AESTHETICS: HORROR EDITION.

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities.urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches.catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons.poltergeists.dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity.newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.a noise in the distance.

Tagged by: @fantomevoleur

Tagging: Again steal it from me and tag me~

[fantomevoleur]

MUSE AESTHETICS: HORROR EDITION.

bold whatever applies | italics what sometimes applies [ both if it's perfect for your muse ] | strikethrough what doesn't apply & tag people. repost; don’t reblog!

CLASSIC.

black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. ghosts. dark alleys. empty streets. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. suspicion. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the American South. the American Northeast. England. analog cameras.

CRYPTID & URBAN LEGEND.

aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw marks. bite marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking. backpacking.

GOTHIC.

gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. milk-white skin. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. books. stitches.

PARANORMAL.

malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at unseen things. iconoclasm. black ooze. old photographs. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

SLASHER.

bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. passing shadows. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. cut wires. character masks. scrunchies. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

THRILLER.

daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms. empty rooms. killer in plain sight. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots. a noise in the distance.

TAGGED BY: @quillheel

TAGGING: @everlastiingiimmortals (Jing Yuan or Ratio), @lunafool, @gentlemanthiief, @chibitantei, @fatexbound (P3 Makoto or Yu), @darckcarnival, @justiceburst (Akechi), @etherealguard, and anyone wearing slippers!