#yeah that's relatively goth

[agave]

americans tag where you live

[roots-of-asphodel]

every few months i go down a my immortal rabbit hole and regret it sincerely bc it means i pull an all nighters due to sheer autism

[sanguineterrain]

for the dc prompts you reblogged:

can i request jason todd x reader "someone likes being pinned down" + A flirting with B while sparring to throw them off their tracks

where reader is also a vigilante??

thank you so much 🩷

very sexy prompts thank u 😌

jason todd x gn!reader. r and robin!jay were friends, r doesn't know jason is alive/red hood but jason knows r is a vigilante. r's alias is 'nocturne' (if that's already in use oh well lmao). fighting/sparring, jason is mega in love with you as usual!!

all fics at @sanguinelibrary

****

"Still blindly following the Bat, huh?"

You land in a crouch on the rooftop, just like how Nightwing taught you. The Red Hood doesn't look at you, digging through two duffel bags. He doesn't even draw his gun, like you've seen him do with virtually every other vigilante in Gotham.

You wait, ready to spring into action. But Hood doesn't stop what he's doing. Slowly, you rise.

"What... do you mean?" you ask.

"I mean, why are you traipsing around Gotham as a bat-adjacent? Who are you s'posed to be anyway? Goth Bat? Alternative Scene Bat?"

"I'm Nocturne," you say, shoulders rising to your ears. Rude. You thought the chunky boots and star over your suit's eye mask were inspired.

Red Hood lifts a hand. "Don't get me wrong, I dig the threads. I'm just surprised B didn't have an aneurysm over the sequins. Then again, Discowing did do it first..."

Your first two meetings with the infamous Red Hood have been similar in that he's never very concerned about you stopping him (ouch), but he also isn't callous or cruel with you like he is with the other vigilantes.

Case in point: the last person who cornered Hood on a roof was Red Robin. Hood shot him in the shoulder before he could land.

In short, he's perplexing as hell.

Batman's forbidden the rest of the team to confront Hood without backup. And you're technically not supposed to be on patrol tonight. But if you can intercept Hood, that'll be a huge win.

Hood keeps on packing the duffels. You hesitate, then step forward.

"Get away from the bags," you say. "I won't ask twice."

Hood looks at you. "Nocturne's a pretty cool name, I'll admit. And I like the boots. But I still think you oughta call it quits."

He zips up the bags, stands, and kicks them to the corner of the roof.

"Because you're just that unstoppable?" you ask, hands curling into fists.

"Yeah. But mostly 'cause I know you're made for so much more than this, sweetheart."

And that is the third and perhaps most bewildering thing about your encounters with Red Hood: you've gotten the creeping feeling that he... likes you.

Which is ridiculous, and if you ever breathed a word of that to anybody, Batman would probably check you into Arkham.

You take another careful step forward. Hood leans against the railing and folds his arms.

"This the part where you apprehend and hogtie me for innocently packing a duffel bag?" he asks.

You glare. "Innocent? I know you're making a weapons delivery because I know you've been waiting for Batman to be off-planet to make it."

"Clever. Told ya you're too good for this," Hood says. "Should be in college with those smarts, not playing maid for Batman."

"Are you lecturing me?"

"I'm advising you as your friendly neighborhood drug lord. Lecturing makes me sound like a guy who's got too much money and too big of a savior complex to understand that the way he fights injustice is fundamentally flawed."

"Sounds personal."

Hood laughs. "Honey, you have no idea."

You strike.

Hood parries your first attack easily, which you expect. The truth is that whoever trained Hood cut no corners and you're still relatively new at vigilantism. It's only by the grace of God that Hood hasn't left you to bleed out on a roof.

You kick his shin, but Hood turns on the instep and blocks. You go for his shoulder, where his armor separates to give him more movement. But Hood's ready for that too, and he catches your arm.

"Gotta keep that right arm up," he says. "Surprised no one's trained that outta you yet."

You elbow Hood in the throat. He coughs and lets go.

"Like that?" you ask, muscles tense with adrenaline.

Hood makes a sound that might be a laugh, still choked from your hit. "Just like that, honeylove. Good job."

"I don't need feedback," you snap, immediately going back in for another hit.

"Sorry. I'll make this quick then. I do have a delivery."

On the next strike, you advance, using a technique Nightwing drilled into your head for bigger opponents. Hood goes down and you land atop him.

"Oh, that's a Nightwing takedown if I've ever seen one," Hood says beneath you.

You're close enough that you can hear his breathing through the decoder. Pride swells in you at taking him down. Not even Batman has managed such a thing.

Hood is warm and big. His shoulder span alone dwarfs you. When you'd seen him from afar, fighting Batman or Nightwing, you'd been terrified.

But now, perhaps stupidly, you feel comfortable. Annoyed, but safe. Something about him reminds you of home. Makes your stomach flip in a good way.

Which is terrifying.

"You're coming with me," you say, reaching for your cuffs.

"If only. Unfortunately, you've forgotten a teensy weensy detail, dearest."

Hood bucks you off, legs first. Your feet fly into the air, which allows him to flip your positions. You wince, preparing for a concussion upon impact as you go down. But Hood cushions your fall and neatly rolls you over. Your back is pressed into the concrete, hands locked over your head. Hood's weight holds down your hips and legs.

He looms over you, easily holding you down. Your face grows hot.

"How did—" You squirm in his grip. "I had you!"

"Weight distribution, sweets. Tell Al—one of the Bats to add weight to your boots. They keep you light on your feet, but you were depending on them too much to hold me down, and we ain't evenly matched there."

You thrash in his grip. "Hood, I swear to fucking—"

"Easy. Don't sweat it, sweetheart. You haven't been doing this for very long. That was a good takedown, regardless. I'm impressed."

"Screw you."

He hums. You can tell he's smiling under the helmet. "Sorry, I forgot. You don't like feedback."

Hood strokes the inside of your wrist. You aren't sure he's aware he's doing it. His grip is firm but light. He's not trying to hurt you. Your pulse is in your throat.

For a moment, you're both still. Hood seems caught in a trance, like even Superman couldn't tear him away from this moment. From you. And it's not that you're afraid, you're just... you're...

"How do you know so much about me?" you blurt, because it's puzzled the whole team. "You been spying on me?"

"'Course not. Unlike your boss, I respect privacy. No, I did research. I recognized you from when you'd hang around that second Robin. Shrimpy little guy. What'd ya even see in him?"

The grief overtakes you before you can control your mouth.

"You don't know anything about me or him," you spit. "Don't fucking talk about him. He had more skill and goodness in his pinkie than you'll have in a lifetime. And you could learn a thing from him about changing a city. He'd tell you that fear alone never works."

Hood is quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks.

"Where's your distress signal?"

"Why would I tell—"

Hood shifts over you, cutting off your reply. He pulls a ziptie around your wrists. They're not even a little tight. You could probably slip out of them if you had five minutes.

"I know you're not s'posed to be out tonight," he whispers in your ear. "'S not your patrol night. Good thing you're my favorite."

You nearly swallow your tongue. "How do you—I don't—"

"Uh-huh. So you be good from now on, yeah? Wouldn't wanna have to keep tying you up like this."

You lift your chin. "We'll switch positions soon enough."

Hood snorts. "Okay, I know you heard how that soun—"

"I heard it," you say grumpily. "Just get on with it. Jerk."

"As you wish. Distress signal?"

"Collar."

Hood presses the button under your collar. Your breath hitches as his gloved fingers graze your neck.

"Oh? Does somebody like getting pinned down?"

"In your dreams."

Hood laughs. He zipties your ankles last, then sits you upright against the railing.

"Not too tight, are they?" he asks. "I know you've got a circulation problem."

You squint. "You seem to know a lot about me. Not fair that I don't know much about you, Hood."

"'S just business, honeylove," he says, scooping up his duffel. "Now I don't wanna see you in a suit anymore, comprende?"

"Or you'll what? Shoot me?"

Hood pauses, eerily still. He turns those glowing white eyes upon you. Your heart picks up.

"No," he says, so serious it startles you. "But someone else might. And I don't want you to face the same fate as your good friend Robin."

He vaults over the railing before you can respond. Your head thunks lightly as you lean back and wonder if you're really just business to the Red Hood.

(pt 2)

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 2 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 3

You stared at yourself in the mirror. Your suit was still immaculate thanks to your incessant fiddling, adjusting, and pruning. If not for the gel wearing out in your hair and the sweat beading your brow, the illusion was almost believable. Your rings clinked against the sink's enamel, your silver accents glinting in the fluorescent lighting, while a person did their business in the stall behind you. You sighed and washed your hands.

Damn, the soap was nice. They'd really gone all out for the reception, the fall theme extending even to the cinnamon spice soap bars.

Who were you even trying to fool? You were hiding in the bathroom. You'd arrived on the scene of the reception party in relatively high spirits, convinced all was fine and dandy, that Gretchen was looking to make amends in this small way. But you'd been wrong.

The invitation hadn't been a fluke. There hadn't been some mistake, because on the little plaque where your name was scrawled in neat cursive sat another right next to it. On the round table where you'd be sitting, there would be Regina George directly to your left. On your other side would be Shane Oman. Across from you, Damian and Janis.

You stepped out of the bathroom, a lump still firmly lodged in your throat but resolve found. You'd brave it, be an adult about it. The breakup had been perfectly amicable, for the most part anyway, so there was no reason for you to be so wound up.

"The maid of honour is a major bitch." Amanda sidled up to you as you walked towards your table. She directed you to the bar by the arm.

"She won't let us switch?" You asked, dismayed but not surprised.

"She won't even let you move to the spare table," Amanda said indignantly. "The whole time, I swear, she was lookin' me up and down all judgy."

"Ugh," You groaned. "Can she get your strongest drink?" You motioned for the bartender. The man nodded with a smile, seeming relieved to be rescued from the old lady chatting him up. He was a good-looking fella, tattoo sleeves and a military haircut.

"Anything for you?" He asked you, eyes lingering on Amanda shyly. Amanda leered at him unabashedly, batting her eyelashes while he made her drink.

"Just a coke." You'd been sober for a good couple of years now, free of all substances. You'd had a nasty relapse in college, a disgraceful return to party drugs and obscene amounts of alcohol, but you'd been able to find your footing since. Largely due to Amanda's intervention.

"You gonna be alright?" Amanda asked, for now deciding not to make a move on the bartender. You knew she was biding her time, establishing tension before she struck. She picked up men like a shark.

"Sure, yeah. It's gonna be okay. It's just, y'know, my ex. And her ex. And her nemesis and that nemesis' best friend. All good."

Amanda eyed you warily. You sipped at your coke through a straw. She, too, took a large gulp.

By the time the bride and the groom made their entrance, you were sitting in your spot, desperately trying not to make eye contact with the other occupants of the table. Shane was squirming on your right, fiddling with what seemed to be an engagement ring. Janis and Damian, sitting across from you, didn't seem to have changed much, except obviously grown up.

Janis was still unapologetically goth, though seemingly turned more toward clean, angular lines rather than messy, smudged blacks. She had on a dress and a shawl, beaded bangles and silver jewellery covering her wrists. She'd gotten more piercings since you last saw her. Angel bites on her upper lip, a bridge between her eyes, and stretched ear lobes. There were some bold tattoos as well, such as a rose crawling up her neck and the head of a snake on the back of her hand, extending up her arm.

Damian was in a cute, velvety green suit. His shirt, white with light green fleur de lis patterns, had ruffles going down the buttons. The length of its sleeves also surpassed that of the suit's, which made the whole look seem kind of piratey. His natural hair, a poofy afro, the bulky red-tinted glasses, and the pointy boots he had on gave off a bohemian seventies disco star vibe. He had a very specific aesthetic and you couldn't help but be impressed.

The seat on your left was pointedly lacking a person. Only the plaque was there along with its elegant scrawl. You crossed your legs and threaded your fingers together, bracing for the moment somebody said something to you. Or you were forced to do it yourself.

"So..." There it comes. Surprisingly it was Shane, of all people. "You and Regina."

"Huh?" You made a sound.

"I mean, you're here together, right? That's what I heard." He scratched at his neck, seeming nervous. All the confidence and obnoxious self-assurance seemed to have melted off of him.

"No, you- what? Where'd you hear that?"

"Just some nasty gossip. Don't worry about it. Aaron and I know what it's like." He smiled supportively but somewhere in the crevices of his cheeks, it seemed sad. "Have you been out for long?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. Shane and Aaron? Was he saying what you thought he was saying?

"Um, pretty much since high school. To be fair, I didn't tell a lot of people back then. You know how Northshore was." He nodded along solemnly. "But in college I sort of bit the bullet."

"That's really brave. Aaron and I haven't been out for long, only since the new law passed." He still seemed cautious and shy, but talking about Aaron clearly made him happy.

"When did you two get together?"

As Shane began to tell the tale, you slowly began to relax. Maybe Regina wouldn't even show up. If you and Gretchen were estranged, Regina and she were even more so. Regina had never given you details, but you did know Gretchen had been heavily involved in your shitty junior year. They'd had an explosive, very public falling-out that'd led to a whole lot of drama.

By that point, you'd sort of checked out of high school as well as your relationship with Regina, so you'd paid very little attention.

"Oh, here she comes," Shane pointed behind you, cutting off his own story. You whirled around, back crackling as you twisted your spine.

Regina George, in the flesh. Your mouth watered, pupils dilated, and there was no way you could've suppressed your reaction. Her eyes were locked on yours, a predatory glint in her eye as she strutted towards your table.

You almost didn't hear Damian's whistle or Janis' stunned laugh, but as Regina shifted the white fur stole she had to reveal her shoulders and chest, you went wholly deaf to all but the clack of her heels.

She had on a baby pink bodycon dress with a slit sinfully high up on her thigh, satin hugging her hips sensually. She had on white high heels with thin straps at the ankle and fur at the tops of her toes.

Her makeup was natural, with subtle browns and blacks, except for the prominent blush she'd picked. Her hair was a warmer blonde than before, complimenting her tanned skin. She had on golden jewellery, a familiar golden necklace resting on the dip of her clavicles like a taunt.

She kept on advancing towards the table. You could do little else but stare, slack-jawed at the visage of her. Other people were staring too, you could tell. You could only imagine what Gretchen was doing with her face at the moment, perhaps scowling like a pug or maybe looking like she was about to cry. Regina was but a guest and yet...

Regina was never just Regina. You knew that better than anyone. No matter how she dressed, behaved, or what her priorities were, she was an innate presence that influenced those around her. Gretchen inviting her to this wedding was essentially like shooting herself in the foot.

Regina didn't have to try to snatch the attention of the room, but when she did, there was no competition. And Regina had gone all out. You could tell by the movements of her hands, the way her lashes fluttered, and how her mouth parted just a little. It was obvious, at least to you, that Regina was doing what she did best: Revenge.

"Hi, baby," She cooed down at you. You took a moment to react, surprised by how she was suddenly there, right in front of you.

Her hands reached for you, long acrylics brushing against your collar, then your neck, then the back of your neck and in your hair. Her thumbs directed your head to tilt up. She pulled you close as she leaned down and then—peach lipgloss, glittery eyeshadow, saccharine perfume—your skin tingled where she touched you, sparks going off behind your eyelids as they fell closed, bliss pouring out of your pores as you became filled with it.

You kissed her back, took hold of her hips and pulled her to stand between your legs. Fuck, this was bad. But, fuck, it felt good to kiss her again.

Distantly, like someone shouting into the water in which you were submerged, you realized that this was perhaps the worst way, place, and time you could've reunited with Regina.

Even so, you kissed deeper, licking into her mouth until she made a sound you'd so missed all these years. Just as you began debating the pros and cons of laying her down on the table right there in the open, Shane tugged hard on your shoulder.

"What?" You grumbled, turning to him with a glare already in place.

He was red-faced, and frazzled, but had on a wide grin. "Get it, girl, but calm down. The mother of the bride looks like she's about to implode." He inclined his head towards the long table where all the important people sat. The mother of the bride did indeed look to be on the precipice of a furious blow-out.

"Okay," You swallowed, sense slowly coming back to you.

"Ugh, you're such a party pooper, Shane." Regina pulled away, leaving your palms achingly empty. She didn't go far though. She sat down on her chair before reaching into her white Valentino bag and pulling out some napkins. Then, she leaned in again.

Your eyes fluttered closed and lips puckered. Regina laughed.

"Silly, you have gloss all over your face."

"Oh," Your eyes opened. Gosh, that was embarrassing.

Regina wiped your mouth. Then, she pulled out a compact mirror and fixed her own lips. You watched her do all this. She and Shane started chatting. Apparently, they'd been in somewhat regular contact.

You'd just kissed Regina George. After, what, eight or nine years? In front of the whole goddamn venue. In front of Gretchen, in front of Gretchen's family, in front of basically your entire year from high school.

You got up. "Oh, where are you going?" Shane asked, all innocent. You hoped you didn't look as panicked as you felt. He didn't seem to think anything was wrong. You glanced at Regina.

Fuck. She totally knew. Obviously, she knew you. She could read you like a book.

"Smoke. Be back in a few." You fled.

"I'm coming too," Janis said.

Notes: Sorry for the long break everybody! I graduated and had a party for that! Went on a little trip to the countryside with friends! And now, at last, I'm back at my desk and ready to churn out some long overdue chapters.

Taglist posted separately! Comment on that post to get on it if you want!

[five-rivers]

archetypical changes

@echoghost1 @ghostfox_fuyu

It started out small.  Small enough that, in retrospect, Danny was surprised he noticed at all.  But he did.  At least, he noticed enough to dismiss it as nothing important. 

It was just hair, after all.  Just hair, growing a bit too fast.  He knew that people did have different rates of hair growth naturally.  Like, beards especially could grow fast.  That’s why five o’clock shadow was a thing.  

Just hair.  

He wound a curl around finger, where it peeked out from under his left ear.  This fast…  He could probably brush it off.  Maybe it was an extension of his healing powers.  He’d just need to cut it more often, so he didn’t go to the barber too often.  Would that even be something people would notice?  

He’d noticed.  It was his body.  His hair.  

Would anyone else?

He ran a hand through it, sweeping it back, and went on with his life.  

“Hey, Jazz,” he said, a week later.  “Will you give me a haircut?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jazz.  She turned from her desk and looked him over.  “It is getting long, but didn’t you just get a haircut?”

Danny shrugged.  “Does it matter?”

Jazz walked over to him and looked up and down the hallway.  “Is it a ghost thing?” she whispered.  

“No idea,” Danny said.  

Jazz sighed, as if it was his fault he was a freak of nature.  

Well.  It kind of was.  Still.  She didn't need to act like it.

“Come on, we'll do it in the bathroom. I'll get the broom, you find the scissors.”

They regrouped in the bathroom a few minutes later.  Jazz had picked up a chair as well. 

“Go ahead and sit down,” she said as she pulled a comb from a drawer.  She ran the comb through his hair.  

“I did brush my hair before,” said Danny, leaning back slightly and closing his eyes.  

“Sure,” said Jazz.  “Just checking.  How do you want this?”

“However it was before.  Just shorter than it is now.”

“Well… I’ll do my best.  But you know I’ve not done this before, right?”

“Yeah, but I can’t ask Mom or Dad, and I’m broke, so.  This is about it.  Unless I want to ask Sam, and I’m not ready to go goth.”

“Going ghost is enough for you, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Okay,” said Jazz with a sigh.  “Let’s do this.”

The scissors snipped cleanly through his hair, over and over, ticklish strands falling around his ears and shoulders.  Jazz didn’t get fancy.  She kept things relatively even and didn’t attempt fades or different lengths or anything like that.  The result was somewhat strange, but it was workable.  No one would think he had some kind of weird hair-growing… thing.  

Yeah.  He was totally killing this secret identity thing.  

Jazz ran a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few more cut strands.  “Your hair is really fluffy, you know that?”

“Thanks, Jazz,” said Danny.  

“Thank me by helping clean up.  Your hair got everywhere.”

“Guess that’s why barber shops use those weird little capes.”

“Yeah,” said Jazz.  

They cleaned up relatively quickly, and Danny spent the rest of the afternoon working on homework, secure in the knowledge that he had, once again, protected himself from discovery via stupid means, like supernaturally fast-growing hair.  He didn’t have the time for it to distract him from what was really important.  In this case, transformations of functions.  

Math.  What would he do without it?

Then, of course, he went to bed and fell asleep.  No one disturbed him that night, ghost or human, which only happened about half the time, even if it felt like he was being woken up every night, sometimes.  

He woke up and ran his hands through his hair.  It felt longer than it had yesterday when he went to bed, but not by a huge amount.  He might have to get Jazz to cut his hair once a week or more.  Maybe he’d just have to learn how to do it himself.  Ugh…

He went about his usual morning routine in his normal somnambulant state.  Clothing, shoes, on to the bathroom…  

His reflection blinked sleepily at him.  Yeah, his hair was a bit longer, but only by a few millimeters.  It wasn’t growing fast enough that anyone would notice over the course of a few days.

Dismissing the problem as one that wouldn’t truly become problematic for a few more days, he picked up his toothbrush and made a face at himself in the mirror.  

Then he froze.  

He leaned forward, over the sink, baring his teeth.  He poked at his canines with one finger.  Yep.  Yep, that was real.  That wasn’t a hallucination, even if it seemed like it should be.  

His upper canines had grown long and sharp overnight.  Their points descended until they almost touched his bottom gums.  He opened his mouth and discovered that it wasn’t just his upper canines, but his lower canines, too.  

His fingers roved over the rest of his teeth, searching for other changes.  He couldn’t find any.  That didn’t mean they weren’t there.  

He pulled off his shirt, then his pants.  He hadn’t noticed anything else while he was getting dressed, but he was so out of it in the mornings that his lack of noticing also didn’t mean anything.  

His skin… still pasty white, still lightly freckled.  His muscles seemed to move normally, but he wasn’t exactly an expert.  However…  He raised his hand to his side and slotted his fingers into the gaps between his ribs.  It hadn’t been like this before, had it?  He slid his fingers back and forth, thinking.  It felt… oddly satisfying, but also very wrong.  His hips also seemed slimmer, bonier.  

He’d never had all that much fat, he took after his mother in that way, but he was pretty sure this was over and above that.  Something strange was happening to him.  

He put his shirt and pants back on and walked through the wall into Jazz’s room.  

“Holy– Knock first,” said Jazz, throwing the first thing she could grab at him.  Which was her pajama pants.  Ew.  “What’s wrong?”

“I have fangs now,” said Danny.  

“What?”

Danny opened his mouth as wide as he could to show her. 

 “What are you doing, I don’t want to see your uvula, that’s– Oh.”

Danny let his mouth close with a click.  “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m–”  Jazz looked lost.  “I don’t know.  You can probably hide, um, teeth for school.  It’s not as if people are going to be looking in your mouth…  Are there any other changes?  Other than that and your hair?”

“Um,” said Danny.  “I– Maybe?”

“If it’s important enough that you broke into my room–”

“I didn’t break anything.”

“--then you’d better tell me.”

Danny felt himself blushing. “It’s– I think that I’ve lost a lot of weight.  Like, overnight.  I can see my ribs now.”

Jazz hissed through her teeth.  “That’s serious, Danny.  That’s a serious health thing.”

“More than the fangs?”

“Way more than the fangs.  I’ll call us out sick, and we can go visit your doctor friend.  What was his name?  Frostfight?”

“Frostbite,” corrected Danny.  “You’re really going to help me skip school?”

“For a health thing?” asked Jazz.  “Yeah.  You basically are sick.  Or, at least, there’s something strange going on with your body that we need to figure out sooner rather than later.  Now get out of here so I can get dressed.  Is it cold where Frostbite lives?”

“Freezing,” said Danny.  “Wear long underwear and layers.  Lots of layers.”

“Ugh.  I might as well wear my hazmat.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said Danny.  “We are going into the Ghost Zone.”

Jazz sighed.  “Great, now, seriously, get out and get ready to go.  I’ll get you when I’m ready.”

Danny fled back through the walls and dropped himself onto his bed.  He waited, thoughts whirling.  What could possibly be making his hair grow faster, his weight drop, and his teeth turn into fangs?  Was this some kind of ghost disease?  Ghost puberty?  Some kind of weird curse?

Jazz knocked on his door not long after, and Danny leaped up, eager to get answers.  

“I called us out,” she said, then did a double take.  “Danny, your hair.”

He reached up and ran his hand over his head.  “It’s longer,” he said.  

“A lot longer,” said Jazz.  “Visibly longer.  I was only gone a few minutes.  It’s getting faster.  A lot faster.”

Danny forced a smile.  “Well, good thing we were already going to see Frostbite.”

Jazz hesitated, then nodded.  “I got Mom and Dad to run off to Elmerton.  Told them there was a ghost sighting over there.”

“So they won’t notice us being gone.  Smart.”

“I know I am,” said Jazz.  She smirked down at Danny, then winked.  “Come on, let’s go.”

Danny went ghost and floated next to her as she made her way down the stairs.  “How are you on piloting the Specter Speeder?”

“I’m, well,” she made a face.  “I haven’t gotten much of a chance.  I’ve gotten up to level three on the simulator.”

“You should be fine to fly it, then,” said Danny.  “It’s not like there’s a lot of stuff to run into– you’ll just go through it.  And there’s no time to learn like the present.”

“Don’t use my words against me,” said Jazz, scowling slightly.  Danny stuck his tongue out at her.  

They went down into the lab, and started going through the flight checks for the Specter Speeder.  

“I’ll fly ahead,” said Danny, clipping on a Fenton Fone.  “Check for danger and all.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“Yeah, I feel fine,” said Danny.  “Just… weird.”  He licked his teeth.  “Really weird.”

“Okay, go ahead.  I’ll finish up here in just a couple of minutes.”

Danny flew through the portal and did a few laps of the portal.  “Everything looks clear for you over here.”

“Okay,” said Jazz through the Fone.  “Check your Fenton Fone.  It’s skipping a lot of what you say.”

Danny grumbled but checked it.  It seemed fine.  He popped it back in.  “I think we’ll just have to deal with it,” said Danny.  

“Great,” said Jazz.  “Stand clear.”

The Specter Speeder slowly slid through the portal.  Once it was all the way through, Danny tapped his Fone again and waved at Jazz.  “Follow me,” he said.  “It’s a long way there.”

.

The Far Frozen was as cold as ever.  Danny landed in the snow, his hair falling down to the curve of his jaw, and sighed at the pleasant sensation.  Flying wasn’t difficult, per se.  It wasn’t like walking or running, it didn’t really use muscles, but it was tiring, and the Far Frozen was far.  

However… was he more tired than he normally would have been?  Or was this another symptom?

“Great One!” greeted Frostbite, jarring Danny from his spiraling introspection.  “What brings you here today?”

“Well,” said Danny, trying to get his thoughts together.  

“Health things,” said Jazz, climbing out of the Speeder.  “Oh, gosh, it really is cold out here.”

“I see,” said Frostbite, leaning closer to Danny.  “You do not appear injured.”

“It’s more like… body… changes,” explained Danny awkwardly.  He glanced sideways at the other yetis walking through the public space.  “Can we go in?”

“Of course,” said Frostbite.  He gestured Danny and Jazz onward and towards a well-lit cave.  “Medical is this way, as you might remember.”

“I… guess I don’t, really,” said Danny, following Frostbite.  “It’s sort of a blur.”

“Understandable.  You were quite unwell.”

Danny could feel Jazz glaring at the back of his head.  He decided to ignore that.  Problem for later, if she remembered.  The hair and teeth and weight loss were the problems now.

They reached the medical wing in short order, and Frostbite ushered him and Jazz into a smaller private room.  There was a counter and an examination bench and a few cabinets.  “So, what seems to be the problem?” he asked.  

Danny, with Jazz’s ‘help,’ explained.  

“Hm,” said Frostbite.  “There are a few things that could cause that, but I need to make some measurements before I could say which one is happening here.  Could you sit up here and take off your shirt?”

Danny flew up - it was a bit too high to just jump up - and pulled off his shirt.  Frostbite produced a stethoscope, and asked Danny to cough and hum.  He listened intently.  Danny listened, too.  Humming felt… odd, as if his chest were more hollow, as if the sound was brushing the very edge of his ghostly wail.

“And all this happened recently?” asked Frostbite, after a few minutes.

“Yeah.  I noticed the hair thing about a week ago?  Everything else seemed to just show up today.”

“I think I may know what is happening.”

“Is it a ghost puberty thing?” asked Danny, unsure if he should hope for that or not.  

“I suppose it could be considered analogous to puberty,” said Frostbite, bemused, “although puberty isn't something that typically happens to ghosts.  We don't age.  It's more along the lines of adapting to a role after a period of malleability.”

Jazz let out a little sigh.  “It's not something that will hurt Danny, then?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot say that for certain.  There are a great deal of potential complications, which may be made greater by your half-human status, and the archetype you seem to be settling into…”  

“What is it?” asked Danny.  

“The role you have taken upon yourself is that of a tutelary, a protective spirit.  You are developing a very thin, almost gaunt appearance, and your hair is growing rapidly.  Fangs tend to be nonspecific, common to many types of ghost, the same with minor changes to your nails and skin tone.  Your wail on the other hand…”

“I sort of felt it when I was humming, earlier,” volunteered Danny.  “That hasn't happened before.”

“There is only one group I know of that matches all those traits,” said Frostbite gravely.  “Here, in the Realms, they are called the Keeners, or the Mourners, or, on occasion, Those Who Mourn Before, for their predictive abilities.  In the human world, I believe the more famous of them became known as banshees.”

“I thought banshees were all women,” said Danny, feeling a little blank. 

“The famous ones are,” said Frostbite.

Danny wanted to know more about that, but shook his head and returned to the question at hand.  “What's dangerous about that, though?”  he certainly thought it sounded unpleasant and inconvenient to the whole ‘secret identity’ thing, but he could admit there was a difference between that and actively dangerous. 

“A banshee’s wail is supposed to kill people, isn't it?” interjected Jazz.  

“They do, on occasion,” said Frostbite.  “Especially when they are younger and have less control.”

“I've had my wail under control for ages, though,” protested Danny, shooting a glare at Jazz.  She gave him an apologetic shrug.  

“When I asked you to hum, earlier, didn’t you feel something different?  Something unusual?” asked Frostbite, kindly.  

Danny shrugged.  “Maybe.”

“This is a change,” said Frostbite.  “One that affects more than your physical appearance.  The powers associated with your archetype will change as well, including your wail, and those changes generally come with a loss of control, however temporary.  The typical precaution in these cases is to, ah, use a gag, until a community of banshees willing to train the new one can be contacted.”

“I, um.  I don’t suppose that’s something that I can do, like, overnight?”

“Not generally,” said Frostbite.  “There’s some overlap between banshees and ice-cored ghosts, more than there is for fire-cored ghosts, but it isn’t a great enough number for us to have regular contact.”

“That’s… I can’t… Great.  That’s.  What am I supposed to do with that?  I’ve got my whole town–  The ghosts– I can’t just up and leave.”

“Danny, you can’t go back if your wail could just randomly go off and, you know, ki–”

“I know that,” interrupted Danny, dropping his head into his hands.  He rubbed his face vigorously. 

“You may not have that particular addition to your wail,” said Frostbite.  “In fact, I would be rather surprised if you did.  You are, like I said, primarily a tutelary.  A protector.  Banshees from such backgrounds more typically have predictive or clairvoyant abilities.  They do not cause the deaths that follow their cry, they only are aware of them.”

“Well, I guess that’d just suck for me rather than everyone else.”  He could already feel his mental health taking a hit.  “But I’ll be good, I’ll stay here and do whatever precautions you want.  Play the silent game, sit in the middle of nowhere in the Zone, the gag thing, whatever.  You’d better come up with a good excuse for me, though.  I think Mom and Dad’ll get suspicious if they don’t see me for days or whatever.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Jazz.

“Is there anything else I should know about?” asked Danny.  “Like, am I going to spontaneously combust or grow a tail or what?”

Frostbite chuckled.  “Probably not.  But we should take some fittings for the sound-dampening gag…”

Danny sighed.  “I really don’t want to wear a gag.”

“It will be temporary,” said Frostbite, “to prevent accidents before you can have proper training.”

Danny wrinkled his nose.  “That sounds wrong.”

“How so?” asked Frostbite.  

“Don’t want to talk about it.”  He fell back to lay down on the examination table.  

Frostbite patted his shoulder.  “It will be fine, Great One,” he said.  “Almost everyone goes through this eventually.  And while you’re here, I can give you more details about what other kinds of changes you can expect going forward.  I have simplified a good deal, after all.”

“Oh my gosh, it is just like puberty,” said Danny.  

“Are you sure you’ll be okay without me?” asked Jazz.  

“I’m more worried about you flying back.”

“We can give your sister an escort,” said Frostbite.  “If Miss Jasmine is alright with that.”

Danny removed his hands from his face to stare Jazz into taking the escort. 

“Alright,” said Jazz.  “If it won’t put you out.”  She walked over to Danny.  “And if you are sure you don’t need me.”

“I’m sure.  We can’t both be gone for who knows how long.”

She sighed and patted his shoulder.  “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” said Danny.  “I’m just going to complain about it the whole time.”

“As is your right.  I know I wasn’t too happy when it started happening to me.  I wasn’t always as handsome as I am now, you know.”Danny sat up.  “Okay, now, I’ve got to hear that story.”

[pr3ttyf4wn]

Roman's No Nut November! aka a collection of prompts everyday of November that include angst and fluff from my various different au's and maybe some new ones! i dont know how consistent ill be but i will try! (a lot of these are Chris i fear..sorry matt girlies...) (and alot of these are fratboy!chris..im on a high)

Pink for fluff, blue for angst, and red for anything that i feel has a relatively big TW (body image issues, abuse, sh.)

"Do you think im spooky?" {goth!reader x fratboy!Chris}

2. "Am I weird?".."Yeah but so what? everybody's weird." {Whimsy!Reader x fratboy!Chris}

3. "Im a pretty impossible lady to be with." {Misunderstood!reader x fratboy!chris}

4. "Im not as think as you drunk i am" {sororitygirl!reader x nerd!matt }

5. "And i have a thing for brothers." {bfb!matt x reader}

6. "Youre supposed to be my lab partner." {nerd!reader x fratboy!matt}

7. "I look better in the dark.." {insecure!reader x reassuring!chris.}

8. "I'll do whatever it takes to be an Alpha Chi" {Superhero!au}

9. "I wait for you (verse 2)" {Stuck in a music box}

10." Bones and All." {matt x reader}

11. "I'll find a new place to be from." {homesick!reader x actor!matt }

12. "You gonna break my heart?" {sororitygirl!reader x fratboy!chris}

13. "I wanna love you till we're food for the worms to eat." {lovesick!chris x lovesick!reader}

14. "piss off your parents." {badboy!matt x goodgirl!reader}

15 "Hey, Jane" {Dad!matt x mom!reader}

16 "Do I look like..him?" {daddyissues!reader x reassuring!matt}

17 "I dont like the cameras but i love it when you ogle." {popular!reader x nerd!matt}

18 "People say shes bad but they dont see the way she is with me." {misunderstood!reader x fratboy!chris}

19 "Love me anyway." {Carrington x reader}

20 "I hope you take off your mask." {misunderstood!reader x fratboy!chris}

21 "Fight for me" {Badboy!chris x 'popular'!nerd!reader}

22 "Kiss me like we'll never have sex." {Stuck in a music box}

23. "Sarah runs to feel the burning in her lungs." {trackstar!reader x chris}

24 "A diva is a female version of a hustler." {superhero!au}

25 "You turn me inside out, and then you want the outside in?" {Fwb!chris x reader}

26 "If I Were a Man" {Princess!reader x Peasant!Chris.}

27 "I get mean when im nervous like a bad dog." {misunderstood!reader x fratboy!chris}

28 "Im not a violent dog. I dont know why i bite." {misunderstood!reader x fratboy!chris}

29 "I dont understand i thought you liked me!" {popular!matt x scene!reader}

30 "Part of me will know deep down that i am pretty cool." {whimsy!reader x fratboy!chris}

BONUS!

december 1st. "I cant have a conversation if its not all about you." {head-over-heels!reader x fratboy!carrington}

[zinnie-zoloft]

I’m gonna draw some AUs based on my favourite childhood movies so here’s a list of what I’m planning

Monster House AU

This is what started it all, I had a dream about it and now I can’t stop putting these characters into kids movies

Cryland Coraline AU

Crystal and Charles as Coraline and Wybie… same friendship different fonts honestly

Paranorman AU

Edwin can see ghosts, he lives with Crystal, their families are related with a long mysterious history and a concerning number of relatives no one is allowed to talk about

Niko is an exchange student staying with Charles, she decides to befriend Edwin

Tragic Mick has spent his life keeping the witches spirit asleep, but now he’s dying and must convince Edwin to take over his work

Simon is the school bully, Jenny is a goth who knows all the history of the town, and so on

Catwin Labyrinth AU

The Cat King has a lot of Jareth vibes

Cats are essentially just furry little goblins aren’t they?

We’re Back (A Dinosaurs Story) AU

This is really about the eccentric circus part, the dinosaur part doesn’t really come into play at all

Things Esther Finch and Professor Screweye have in common: kidnap children, build child torture machines, betrayed by their own crows, serve exactly what you are: cunt

There’s also the extreme child neglect from the main duos parents��� yeah when you look past the funny dinosaurs this movie is dark as fuck

Corpse Bride AU

Charles as Victor, Edwin as Victoria, and Crystal as Emily

A doomed relationship between two friends, one living one dead, where one is desperately trying to force it to work despite them only being together in an attempt to avoid dealing with their tragic circumstances? I could be talking about either Charles/Crystal or Victor/Emily here

Also featuring Niko the spider and David the maggot

[dfastback68]

Tried and failed to write yesterday but was successful today!! Finally started the goth fam sequel (yeah, not the prequel... oops) and also a short fic that's 99% finished at around 4k. It needs editing and polishing and then I'll try to post it in the next few days.

I just want my blorbos interact and was possessed by the sudden need for Perona and King to not only meet, but also braid each other's hair. I mean come on. It's the perfect activity for them. Plus, their captains have history!! I wanted to write something relatively light hearted anyways. So, here's a snippet:

__

“Moria complained all the time about your captain, you know,” she says, which gets his attention. He’s not keen on talking about Kaido much these days, but he supposes it can’t always be avoided. “That if not for him, he would have stayed in the New World. It was one stupid fight and he never shut up about it! Ugh, it was so annoying.”

“I was there,” Alber says without thinking. He does remember that fight, too, because Moria’s zombies had been a pain in the ass to put down. They were as susceptible to his fire as anything else, though. Kaido handled Moria himself.

“What?!” Perona drops his hair and braces her hands on his shoulder, leaning over to see his face. “Really? Moria was in his prime back then, I wish I could have seen it!”

“I was Kaido’s second from the very beginning,” he says, frowning. Back then. Had it really been that long ago, or is she just that young? “It was a fairly short fight. Moria didn’t belong in the New World, and we made sure he knew th - ach.”

Alber winces as Perona yanks a fistful of his hair.  “Don’t speak ill of Moria! How could you? After I’ve been so kind to you!”

As if she hasn’t complained about Moria several times already, and now she’s trying to exact some sort of transactional cost out of this activity again? He offers no apology, nor does she seem to expect one.

“Well,” she says with a sniff. She smooths her hands through his hair again, and picks up where she left off braiding. “If you hadn’t chased him out, he would have never found me, so. It’s alright, I guess.”

“Hm,” is all Alber says in response. It’s the closest he’ll get to an olive branch, but he’s never been above being petty. Perona is much nicer company than Queen, though, and if Mihawk allows her here, he needs to respect that, too.

“Hawkeyes told me to be nice to you if I ever ran into you,” she says, immediately undoing whatever goodwill had been extended just a moment ago.

[itslouisan]

C!Ranboo headcannons!!:

(art by @C0RPSING on twitter)

• So, Ranboo is an anxious person, probably he owns some toys to deal with anxiety that he keeps on his suit or in a messanger bag he carries

• Sometimes when it's Christmas or any events or it's dark and he is without his torches, he places little jolly lights on his horns creating a tall walking lamp

• He doesn't own just a memor book. He has SEVERAL, some have photos, doodles, notes, objects glued, but he eventually just abandons them and starts new ones because he thinks the memory books aren't "up to date" anymore to his current moment

• He likes to dress fancy and presentable because he finds this way he can create impressions of being more in control and less scared than he actually is, probably also a fan of ouji lolita, vintage, victorian, goth and grunge fashion

• I like to imagine C!Ranboo loved to map all the places he was so he'd never forget them, so he creates little maps of things like L'Manberg or the syndicate room or just designs in general of how these places are because he wants to keep a forever fresh memory.

• Isn't THE artist, but can draw, loves to draw landscapes and animals but barely draws people, also I always imagined C!Ranboo played violin or piano or both, having an old and rusty out of tune piano on the syndicate room together with the syndicates other instruments and vinyl player and records and discs

• An all nighter type of person, sleeping all morning and part of the noon and only waking up when it's night, probably due to his enderman side since enderman tend to appear more on the night and The End was always quite dark like the night

• Grossed out by enderpearls and hates to use them thinking if maybe it ain't an eye of a relative of his or something, also hates when people kill enderman in front of him, WOULD CONSIDER ENDER FARMS AS GENOCIDE.

• Obviously non-binary and gay so yeah.

• I imagine he'd love cats but be scared of them at the same time, loves bats though

• Loves to collect random bs and keep in a corner of his house, probably a collector of a lot of different stuff like discs, books, quills, anything really due to his enderman instincts of just picking random bs

• Always has a pair of headphones with him

• Probably the time he was the most unhappy and unstable memory, anxiety and depression wise was L'Manberg, all the wars, the feeling of dread of maybe losing your home and friends, being constantly manipulated and used, not knowing who to trust, keep remembering stuff you don't want to, make things you didn't want to, the fear of dying, I can say this was the time he just isolated himself and followed others more than ever

• He DEFINITELY can't do stuff under pressure and will break easily, can't deal with expectations and hates when people observe him doing things even the simplest

[scarlet--wiccan]

We're still undoing the damage done by Teen Titans 2003, I think. Jinx is another Indian sorceress from that franchise and they've really only *just* stopped whitewashing her. Starfire with afro-textured hair is still a hit or miss but with black women recently being used as a base for her visually (Zendaya, Rihanna, Anna Diop) it seems to be getting better.

Raven definitely got the worst of it though- she used to wear lehengas and saris all the time with pastel colors and actually looked Indian (Persis Khambatta, the actress she was based on, was relatively light skinned), now she's been claimed by the goth/witchy aesthetic with the purple hair and grey skin. She wears upside down pentagrams. And pants, even though I distinctly remember her hating pants and preferring skirts and dresses. She's unrecognizable- Marvel's taking measures now to fix Wanda, but DC isn't doing the same for Raven. She recently got her classic look back but I have no idea if it's sticking around.

The Jinx character in Teen Titans is so weird. This is on me, because I'm just not as much of a DC reader, but I legit believed that she was a random OC that was intended to be a Scarlet Witch knockoff. Because they give her, like, a reductive version of Wanda's hex power, and she's designed in the same 2000s goth vein as TT Raven and Evo Wanda.

But anyway, yeah, for all its merits, Teen Titans really did a number on a lot of Black and brown characters, and Raven's had it pretty rough for a long time. I was so surprised that the gender-bent version from Teen Justice was actually designed as a South Asian character with darker skin, but I was also completely unsurprised that he immediately started getting lightened and whitewashed.

I'm not totally sure how I feel about Raven's fashion choices. Her traditional clothing is important, but in the current continuity, she's a young adult who, to the extent that she's lived on Earth, mostly grew up in America. So I understand the impulse to make her feel a bit more youthful and contemporary, and I think it's possible for a character to explore different styles, especially alternative fashion, without compromising their culture and ethnicity. Obviously, the first step would be to stop drawing her like a white girl. Or a Monster High doll, for that matter. But I'm not an expert on the character-- sound off if you think I'm wrong, I guess.

[sofiadragon]

I love your hp fashion post! I have a question: what do you think is popular for teenager girls/young women to wear in the 90s? How does it differ from muggles? Would they have incorporate muggle fashion trends into their outfits? And is that a thing you would usually see younger wizards doing?

Thank you!

Ok, this requires me to sit at my PC to type. Got me out of bed and off my phone to make tea and type while I'm sick.

Obligatory link to the post in question.

Fashion is Political

Fashion in the 70's, 80's, and 90's was hugely political both in the UK and USA. Goths, punks, preps... It was an entire identity. I didn't paint my nails black, dye my brown hair with translucent red or purple highligts, and wear mesh layers just for the aesthetic, it was an entire philosophy that had political, moral, and social ideas baked into the culture those clothes represented. When I wore a yellow sundress, a hat that hid the highlights, and stripped the color from my nails to visit certain relatives it was because that was a Sundown Town and the ideas represented by the counter-culture I belonged to very well could get me hurt when walking around alone. Yes, I look entirely white (got some Japanese but so far back it doesn't show, and I'm basically French and Bulgarian) but that kind of conservatism didn't (and still doesn't) take kindly to those who support the queers, freaks, and weirdos.

And it's still true, if not quite as much as it used to be. Social cliques still dress alike, but it isn't as quietly political the same way it was then. People don't seem to associate fashion with a political statement using style as much as they use modesty and cleanliness, but it could be that I've just become Officially Old now that I've got a stripe of white in my hair. It seems a bit more on the nose these days, or more accurately on the head. I have a lovely bright red knit newsboy hat I had to stop wearing around 2016-17.

Yeah, but so what?

Fashion changes over time, so let's start with some 1970's makeovers and work our way to the 90's!

The Marauders Prequel: Kinktomato, and all the similar disclaimers, but I respectfully disagree entirely with giving Sirius, James, or any of the other marauders a Punk aesthetic. Sorry JKR, but what you have James and Sirius wear in your prequel needs a tweak. Sure, they wanted to fight against 'traditionalists' which sounds like it's punk... until you realize that the Light was the status quo before Tom came to power. The Order of the Phoenix is a vigilante group working to protect the Establishment and prevent change. Yes, realizing that while reading the 7th book hurt me in my heart too.

I have to throw JKR a bone about her recent nonsense, but she's right in the manner of a broken clock that the rebellious counter-culture going on in the Wizarding World was being backed by the Traditional Family Values set. The politics in the Wizarding World do not match up well with the real world, mostly because if you think too much about it the political aims of the Death Eaters implode. For blood purity, leader is a half-blood who hates the rich and treats the high society types with deep contempt; were not in power and had to have a guerrilla movement, members included half the House of Lords. You can't square those circles, so we get the Light Preppy types like the Marauders and the Dark Preppy types like Draco Malfoy, and then we have the punks and the goths who are the outcasts and queers that get indoctrinated into one or the other set. Don't blame me, I didn't write the books.

The Marauders should look a bit like The Monkees.

James and Sirius were not in with the queers and freaks, they did not read dark poetry in black clothing with sharp lines and heavy makeup that obscured bruises, they were Preppy Jocks and bullies picking on the outsiders. Remus Lupin might be 'one of the good people' who got wizard AIDS, but he's at best masking to fit in with a powerful social group for protection. The black leather with the rocker band t-shirts look? No, no. Put that boy in a polo shirt and chinos. Give him a cable-knit sweater or a blazer over a robe. (And many people do give these things to Professor Lupin, but I mean from the jump.) They'd all be clean-cut, perfectly groomed, and wearing light colors because their political movement is literally called The Light. Black T-shirts with a phoenix on them? No ma'am. White or yellow shirt, embroidered (or screen print to look like embroidery) phoenix. Yellow blazer jacket on top with creamy muggle trousers in a high-water boot cut to show off expensive white or tan boots. (The high-water boot cut on the trousers are muggle 1960's, but wizards lag behind on muggle trends.)

Moving on to the Dark Side

Snape's our punk, or maybe a broody goth gremlin reading poetry books. All via thrift-shop [charity shop] finds, of course. The set of upper-class future Death Eaters he eventually starts to hang out with would have started out in clean-cut expensive dark-colored robes, but might have embraced a morbid aesthetic, as we see Bellatrix wear in the movies. This would be a case of convergent evolution in a sense.

Snape dressed like that due to the poverty and muggle influences in his life, and I headcanon that he liked to visit a record shop and stim his autistic brain with niche experimental music just like I used to at that age, but the morbid and shocking aspects of Goth or Punk aesthetics parallel with Voledmort's completely unrelated skull and snake symbol inspiring trends among his more loyal followers, who are rich enough to be trend setters and social influencers.

Snape very well might have made friends with those awful boys because they liked the casual clothes he started to wear on weekends once his mum started tossing some money at him and telling him to get his own shopping done so she could get back to her crossword puzzle (or maybe he got a summer job at a bakery.) Snape chose that look because if he's styled punk (violent) or goth (morbid) the rips his father puts in his clothes when he gets tossed around are there on purpose and it's just a nice coincidence that the stains in the second-hand clothes he gets on clearance at the charity shop get hidden by the cheap black dye he uses to get that grey and black look. This way, it is not just because he can't afford better and washes both himself and his clothing in the same portable tin washtub.

This convergence was accidental, but the artfully tattered cloaks and general look of the Death Eaters in the movies is something I can get behind - minus the Victorian trousers on the men, of course. The movies make the clothes way too muggle especially for the pure-blood set! Regulus Black spent nearly a hundred galleons getting a robe made of the finest linen and fur, snipped and cut so artfully to look like it was moth-eaten and torn even though every edge is properly hemmed and trimmed with a bit of lace that merely looks like a frayed edge.

Then Voldemort got Blown up

Look, the actress has red hair and a preppy lavender top - it's too perfect a reference image for Lily Potter nee Evans in a fashion post.

The morbid aesthetic that was so popular in the late 70's doesn't just go out of fashion, it is jettisoned like the toothbrush mustache. Yeeted from a seaside cliff. Dropped in a ditch full of burning petrol. Abandoned at the side of the road in a bag. Morbid? Don't know her.

Draco Malfoy, as I earlier teased, wears the fashion of the Dark upper class. Flowing perfectly tailored robes with a rope belt. Crisp and clean lines, no jagged edges or anything to even suggest aggression. 90's pure-blood fashion is soft. For the girls, more color, but we are going to backpedal so hard nobody will ever think we were associated with that guy we don't name. Draco Malfoy's non-uniform robes are like spun clouds, opulent and decadent in beautiful pristine velvet, shining satin, and resplendent metallic embroidery. While Snape and the generation of men older than him now wear waistcoats over their robes to look proper and all buttoned up, Draco's set is all about looking sleek, clean, and comfortably ready for a dramatic breeze. I don't think there is a large difference between what boys and girls wear, the gendering is all in the accessories and embellishments. Lace for girls, metallic piping for boys.

I'm talking flowy, I'm feeling swishy, I'm saying that 'looks like a dress' was a completely fair take from Harry's perspective. Yes the above characters are female and Frieren herself wears a lot of white, but you get the idea. The Dark Lord is dead, we need a rebrand yesterday. More lighter colors even for Dark-aligned [read:Tory, Conservative] families. No evil here! Nope, nope nope.

Harry is a Self-fulfilling Prophesy in More Ways than One

Harry accidentally has a hand in this trend in his earlier years, since he is wearing Dudley's castoffs and he's incredibly famous. Baggy is in! Just relax, chill, be comfortable. Dress like you just don't care what you look like. (You know, pandemic style.) He wears jeans, and probably most of his bottoms are jeans. They are one of the most durable things any boy Dudley's age would wear, and so wouldn't be as destroyed as the rest of his wardrobe by the time Harry got his hands on it no matter how hard Duds is on the trendy fast fashion clothing Petunia buys him. Petunia, a social climber, is set on making sure her family looks like the next rung up on the social ladder after all.

Later, when we can assume Harry has bought at least one wizard outfit that isn't his school uniform if he's got enough money on hand to buy Omnoculars, he's probably taken his fashion cues from himself indirectly. He likely gets his advice from Hermione and Ron, who get their fashion sense from looking at their peers, who get their fashion sense from... the trend of super casual heavily muggle-influenced baggy clothing in mismatched colors that Harry started as a first year.

Bit harder to find male examples than female ones, but that's fashion gifs on Tumblr.

Shorter robes with jeans underneath - or knee-high socks or dhoti style trousers in blue heather fabric that look like jeans provided you have never seen jeans before in your life. Open, short robes over closed-front ones, aping an overlarge muggle jacket over a robe. Floppy shapeless clothes held on with an overlarge leather belt. Squashy hand-knit jumpers. Girls in the Lighter political side also take cues from muggle women's fashion, which is more form-fitting than traditional wixan wear and shows off the legs. In the muggle world, this is the time of the babydoll dress, slim-cut trousers/jeans, and tightly tailored suit skirts for women.

Imagine way, way, way more gold embroidery on the above dresses.

And, because I can, because it's headcanon time, 90's Indian/ Bollywood fashion influence on the Light side after James Potter is martyred because #Indian Harry Potter is real and I love him. Music, clothing, art, it is in style among those who honor James and Lily's sacrifice. Harry's green eyes looks so bright next to chestnut brown skin. He can speak to snakes because his ancestry includes a bit of naga blood, not because of the Horcrux. Petunia certainly never taught him about it, and he's confused when an especially devoted fan sends him blessings addressed to Hindu gods instead of the Christian or pagan ones he hears about more often at Hogwarts. One of the Patil twins asks him what's wrong with him expecting, from his attitude and excitement about Christmas, that he's a devout Christian who hates his dark skin. Then they monopolize some of the time he's not teaching the D.A. or in detention to Educate That Boy.

[dragonfirerogue-writes]

I freaking love you and your fics so I couldn't wait to send this!

Parasite!Reader x Wednesday where Reader and Wednesday go to Nevermore together, the part where Enid shows her claws and Reader just shows their big ass claws and grins menacingly.

Then you can go off on where this story will go! Angst, Fluff, Gore etc etc. Reader already unlocked every ability and is just using them to protect Wednesday. Other than that reader is just laid back and nonchalant.

A/N:... I might end up making a series outta this? I have ideas for another series rewrite.

Wednesday x Parasite!Reader

A school for outcasts. An interesting setting for her new prison. It didn't matter. Wednesday wasn't going to stay longer than necessary. If her parents thought that this would help mold her into an image of themselves, they were wrong. Dead wrong. For now though, she'll play along. Reconnaissance makes for better plans.

Her new roommate, this Enid, was showing her around. The quad held the majority of the students around and she hammered on about social cliques that Wednesday cares nothing for. There was one person who caught her eye though. Someone oddly familiar. Another student nudges the person and points to her. When your eyes meet, surprise hits the goth at the grin she sees.

"Wednesday?" You bound up to the girl, getting closer to verify who you were seeing. "Wednesday Addams? Who'd think you'd end up here." The girl scans your face, trying to place where she's seen you. You stand a moment to let her figure it out before letting a black mass pulse from your body.

"Y/N L/N... I see. Acting as a spy for my parents?" You just scoff at that.

"We haven't seen each other in years and that's the first conclusion you come to? Please..." You shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. "I started here at the beginning of the semester. I'm as surprised as you are to see you here."

Dark eyes look you up and down, gauging how genuine you are. It was always hard for her to determine because of how laid back you were as a person. But there's always a tell and she couldn't see one on you.

"Very well." She glances at Enid before looking back at you. "There is something I may need your help with later. Will you be available?"

You think for a moment before nodding. "Yeah. I should be good. I'll find you later."

-----+++++-----

Wednesday ended up needing assistance taking the color off of the large window in her new room. Your powers made it easy, letting you reach the top of the window with ease. Idle chatter lasted about ten minutes, mostly catching up on each other's lives before silence filled the room. Sound only returns when Enid returns to the room.

"What the hell did you do to my room!?"

You turn your head, shaking your hand to unstick the vinyl from your fingers. Wednesday responds without turning around.

"Dividing our room equally."

Not wanting to get between the two, you just move to sit on Wednesday's bed. Leaning back, you watch the back and forth between the roommates. Nothing really caught your interest until Enid's claws come out.

"This kitty's got claws and I'm not afraid to use them."

Suddenly, you're behind Wednesday. Your arm pulses and enlarges, talons growing along your fingers. A large, clawed hand goes between Enid and Wednesday, shielding the goth from the wolf.

"We comparing claws? Cuz I think I got you beat." Your passive face is pulled into a wicked grin, the sudden shift in your demeanor surprising the wolf as she stumbles back with a gasp. Wednesday has a tiny smirk on her face before the sound of the door opening draws everyone's attention.

Ms. Thornhill arrives to welcome Wednesday, effectively smothering the tension into embers. Knowing now that your friend(?) is relatively safe, your parasitic power reverts back into your body. You stand back, letting the dorm mother relay the rules. It takes only a moment, but you're forced to leave soon after being reminded of curfew.

-----+++++-----

The next time you get to see Wednesday was at the carnival. She's tossing darts at a booth when you walk up.

"So, you're leaving."

"I don't know where you heard that."

You sigh. "The fact is, I had to hear it outside of you. What the hell? I thought we were friends?"

The goth whirls around to face you. "Just because we knew each other in the past doesn't mean we're friends." Her glare keeps you still, as if binding you. "I'm leaving and you will never see me again."

Tyler shows up then, ready to take Wednesday away from here. You eye him with a scoff.

"And you trust this normie with helping you?" With a sigh, you back away. "Fine. Whatever. I know where I stand now. Less than a stranger." You finally turn around and leave, determined to leave the goth in the past.

That resolve lasted all of thirty minutes.

There was something bothering you. A constant nagging just kept you from enjoying your time. Eventually, it frustrated you enough to go and find out what the issue was. Your parasite led you to the forest and what greeted you was gruesome.

A large beast was clawing at someone you couldn't see, but as soon as it spun to eye Wednesday, you jumped into action. Your arm shot forward, summoning a large stream of black mass to collide into the creature. The monster goes flying while you make your way between it and Wednesday. You form a shield to block the goth. When the beast recovers and looks at you, you can see the thought process in its head before dashing off into the forest. You don't chase after it, opting to stay with Wednesday who was racing toward the body on the ground. You follow along, finally recognizing the bloodied mound.

"Rowan?" You kneel next to the body. "What's going on here?" Wednesday just looks at you.

"Something sinister... And I will find out exactly what. Come. We need to inform the authorities."

While you wanted to stick with the body to ensure nothing would happen to it, you couldn't leave Wednesday alone in case the monster returns. With a sigh, you follow Wednesday back to the carnival. No matter what happens, you'll protect Wednesday. Whether she likes it or not.

[raccoonfallsharder]

not an ask more paying respect lol, i did the ask abt showing rocket more terran references/ goth music and you did it amazingly thank you so much. i like how it made me think differently too! i bet rocket wouldn’t like too much horror thinking abt it now but stuff like supernatural/ creepy sound better than gore for him. i bet stuff like the toxic avenger is right up his alley lmao. i love how you included reality tv and video games and just showing rocket other genres. i loved what you did with it! i feel like rocket would like rupaul too for the drama and art. i feel like like they could make their own drive in/ outdoor theater on knowhere and can watch anything in the galaxy lmao😭. and i loved how you wrote rocket w music he is the definition of listens to everything <3. i completely loved this thank you <3

you are SO fucken kind (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) holy shit i will cry now. like, just how sugarsweet are you? thank you bby ♡♡ also i am going to just take a moment to cosign your drive-in/outdoor theatre idea! this was absolutely EXACTLY what i was imagining in the second bulletpoint on this #marvel critique post. i want a whole stupid disney+ show of this, mst3k style

also, you are so right about rocket loving drag and you should fucken say it.

that furry bastard is such a dramatic little punk in his own way. you just know he likes shiny gems and glittery shit far more than he says (i have a ton of headcanons about this but it comes down to — rocket craves lovely, luxurious things and also doesn't believe he deserves them. and also believes most people who have them don't deserve them, and thus, he has few qualms about stealing them. but also never trusts he'll be able to keep them. look, our lil guy is so conflicted.)

the first time you take him to a drag show, i hope you keep it a surprise. let him gripe and complain the whole way there until the uber driver looks like he wants to scream. look, it's not rocket's fault. he frickin told you he'd had a shitty three cycles since he'd seen you last, and now he just wants to crash on your couch with you and order in sushi and rewatch edward scissorhands (you're not sure how that last part's supposed to help — he always ends up silently crying into his fur two-thirds of the way through). he gets even grumpier when you have to wait outside in the relative cold. once you're finally seated at a small table house-left, he's still sulking and snarking, to the point that you almost wanna wring his furry neck yourself.

but then the music starts. maybe a little aretha franklin. gloria gaynor, or some classic cher. yeah, i'm guessing the show stars with cher. slow, silky, low notes pouring out over the stage. strong enough, maybe. when the first queen steps out, rocket's jaw actually drops. by the time the bright pop of disco-synth hits the song, you'd swear the mirrorball is reflecting little stars and hearts into his candied-apple eyes. he's drinking it all in: the drama, the sly and exaggerated winks that put his own oversized winking habits to shame — the gowns, the sequins, the feathers, the heels. the long lashes and sultry stagecraft, the pageantry, the snark, the fun. the music, the theatre of it all, the spotlights and the perfections and the imperfections — and the brightness, like staring into the spiritual equivalent of an anulax battery explosion.

you leave him at some point, just for a moment —making your way to the bar, bringing back the sugary tequila cocktails he's lately taken to liking so much — and he doesn't even touch it. maybe takes a sip, but forgets it's there. it's probably the first time you've seen rocket ignore an opportunity to get at least slightly buzzed (hey, he's made progress in recent years). but this time, the temptation isn't even present. he's staring at the stage, swaying and bopping to the lip-synced lyrics — completely glitterdrunk. he's fixated on the satin corsets and the braying laughter and the ribald jokes, the irreverence that somehow feels like coming home, and all the while he’s wondering what his own long claws would look like if they were painted that color.

it's not like rocket hasn't seen theatrical gender performance before. it's a common-enough phenomenon in deep space, where there are as many expressions of identity as there are stars in the sky. a lot of cultures are far more chill about crossing gender lines or leaning into extreme caricatures, for a kaleidoscope of reasons. some planets don't even have lines to cross, either because gender is a nonconstruct or because it's so extremely flux that it might as well be superfluid helium.

but there's something about this kind of performance that just hits different for rocket. he probably doesn't know enough terran history to understand what he's picking up on. sure, in the far-reaches of the galaxy, diverse gender expression may be the norm — but here on terra, there are conservatives and bioessentialists and police raids and worse. what rocket sees — folded in between the blade-sharp eyeliner and the spun-sugar wigs and the gunmetal-glint of sequins — is rebellion. it's the core blazing fire of demanding the right to be exactly who you are or who you want to be, even if only for a moment. it’s throwing fists when you have to and protecting your people when you can. it's the freedom to give an acrylic-tipped middle-finger to anyone who ever thought they had the right to reinvent you according to their idea of perfection.

it's a fuck-you to every high evolutionary out there, herbert e wyndham or otherwise.

and — maybe more importantly — it’s not just the struggle. in the face of every hostile neighbor and violent lawmaker, it’s taking back some fucking joy.

rocket can taste it.

which is probably why he doesn't want to leave, even after the show draws to a close and someone's yelling about last call. by the time you finally convince him to go out to the sidewalk and wait for your uber back home, a small number of the queens are departing as well — clustered on the sidewalk like gems snatched from taneleer tivan's jewelry box. you don't think you've ever seen this damn raccoon treat an adult-humie-stranger with anything softer than semi-polite suspicion — yourself included — but suddenly, he's turning up the charm, sidling up to the ladies to thank them for their performance.

the queens, of course, are immediately smitten. who's this handsome fucking dreamboat, and how’d he get those biceps, and does he want a selfie? rocket lets them coo over him with exaggerated, syrupy delight — not even snapping when one of them scritches his ears. he shrugs and juts his thumb at you and gives one of them your goddamn phone number, and they squish in for the aforementioned snapshot. he's got big ol' lipstick-prints in his fur already and when someone raises a paint-arched brow and comments suggestively on the many possible uses of his tail, rocket finally sinks into that familiar shit-eating smirk.

you breathe a sigh of relief when you see it. for a couple seconds there, you’d barely even recognized him.

the uber pulls up and the queens pout — how did the surly jackass who steals your pillow and eats all your lucky charms manage to dazzle them all in less than five minutes? — and when rocket gets in the vehicle, he immediately goes quiet in that way he does — suddenly pensive. thoughtful.

your phone buzzes. it's the selfie of him and the goddamn queens. you lean over and show it to him, and he nods, the corner of his mouth curving faintly. His tail flicks on the seat between you, and his ears twitch as he turns to look out the window.

thanks.

you startle when he speaks, despite the fact that you usually can't get him to shut up. but the quiet gratitude sits between you on the bench like a third passenger in the backseat of the car, studded with distant stars and the receding lights of the city.

no problem, you say slowly. i knew you'd like it — i just didn't know how much. you tilt your head. maybe trust me the next time i tell you i wanna take you somewhere.

he scoffs quietly, but the sound is only made of soft camaraderie and old habit. and then — slowly, like the words are hard to find between stoplights and midnight shadows — he adds, this was... special.

you can hear him swallow. his head is still turned to peer out his window, but you can see the ghost of his reflection in the glass: eyes red as lollipops and sour candy, sometimes turning flat-gold with the passing light. His eyelids flicker shut, then reopen.

some asshole once told me— he starts. stops. swallows again. clears his throat. some asshole once told me we all had this — this sacred fuckin' mission to — to take a cacophony of sounds and turn it into a song.

you can hear the words he's quoting, and his voice drips thick with disdain — and also maybe some uncertainty. some vulnerability. whoever it was who'd said this thing to him — it had cut deep, and put down venomous roots. but you don't respond. not yet. you've learned to wait in moments like this — to let the silence curl around you both, low and comforting as old quilts.

but this, he says finally, four blocks later. this was like... taking songs and turning them into a cacophony. but of — of good things. his brows crease in his reflection, and you an see his eyes flick back and forth, searching the darkness.

a cacophony of liberation, you suggest quietly. and of — joy, and reclamation, and — togetherness, i guess.

he lets out a breath so heavy that his shoulders drop when they're free of it. you stretch across the bench-seat, and you know he's watching your hand reach for him in the window's reflection — but he doesn't draw away from you, not even when you card your fingers through the soft fur at the base of his ears, tousling a soft cloud of pixie-dust sparkle into the air.

and of glitter, you add lightly. you hear the uber driver muffle a grunt of dismay.

but rocket just smirks out the window.

yeah, he says, and it takes a second for you to realize that even though he's agreeing with you, he's also confirming something he's been turning over in the privacy of his own head — all night, maybe. when he repeats himself under his breath, it sounds — it sounds like a soft new bandage, almost. like he’d gone to check on a wound he’d thought had turned to rot, only to learn the the scar’s looking clean and smooth and healthy, and healing up just right.

yeah. that fucker was frickin' wrong.

as per frickin' usual.

headcanons & imagines masterlist | navigation | fanfiction masterlist

raccoon & star dividers by @/thecutestgrotto support banners by @/saradika-graphics

gotg rocket

[shit-talk-turner]

do you guys think ‘you’re so dark’ is about anyone? and if so, who?//

I've had my suspicions about one specific person for a while now. She's a relatively normal person, not really a public figure, and has a modest-ish instagram following so I feel a bit weird "doxxing" her, but here are a couple of things about this woman that made me think she's who the song might be about:

- she's goth, Italian, and a visual artist

- she's really into horror movies & spooky things in general

- she doesn't wear a ton of makeup, but she does tend to wear somewhat dramatic mascara/fake lashes (though I personally wouldn't call them catty)

- she's a friend of a friend of Alex's who ran around with Miles, Cam Avery, Daniele Cavalli, and that general circle quite a bit from 2011-2015ish. She and those folks mostly still follow each other on socials

- she moved to east London somewhere around that time after spending a couple of weeks in LA. Before that she was living in Italy

- there are pictures of her at some events that Alex was either at or likely at

- she has lots of videos/pics backstage at smaller gigs of bands who we know that circle either associates with or likes

- she seems to at least passively listen to the Arctic Monkeys

- she's been a long time fan of a few musicians that Alex later went on to mention in interviews as being a fan of or having recently gotten more into, after the time when their paths would have likely crossed more often

- all of her art (which is actually pretty cool imo), seems to center around sex - usually with heavy BDSM themes - , gender, and death. This is actually how I came across her.Daniele Cavalli posted about some of her work on his story a while back and I actually liked it so I followed her and ended up doing some digging after noticing a few folks in that circle were following her.

Now... there are also some things that make me think it's likely NOT her:

- she definitely was involved with one of Alex's friends at one point, though they seem to have ended things amicably since they still interact a lot on socials

- she doesn't seem to have ever lived in a very car-friendly city which might not mean a lot but the line about the Prius always struck me as oddly specific and nothing about her suggests she drives a car

- her whole vibe is so arsty/pretentious/"cool" and her interests seem so niche that I get the impression she'd find Lovecraft & Poe kind of mainstream... so either Alex got her vibe not quite right or its not her... either way, I think she's way too "cool" for him lol

- she and Louise follow each other and like each other's stuff with some regularity, which seems odd if she's an ex-fling (but then again, Agathe...)

So yeah. Basically inconclusive, since really there's no way of anyone knowing, but I have this one guess... looking at all this now I also feel kind of weird having creeped this one random girl this hard. I had too much time on my hands during the pandemic and too many weird theories 😅

🤔

[bobbybutterfly]

I have a post lined up about my latest finished SaH doll. But it’s taking just far too long to finish. So I thought I would make a different post in the meantime. Getting ya’ll up to speed with some of my SaH digital art. Starting with a piece I finished just now VISUAL KEI MULORI for @32girassoisdevangogh !

Hope she looks alright. I should have done more research before jumping straight into it. Ever since I discovered pen stabilisation inking became way more enjoyable. I just have to have a sketch I made on paper underneath because unless it’s something simple like the things in the panels and the petals then it’s not going to end well. Let’s just say that.

I first learned (maybe somewhere else before that but this is what I remember) of Visual Kei I would say was in a Rainbow High Review of sorts by Negative Legend on Youtube. She mentioned it would be neat if more dolls would represent this subculture. I looked it up and personally didn’t like it.

Well. Things are different now. I heard the calling of the darkness. I’m a fan of the trad goth style and Visual Kei looks awesome. Thanks for reminding me of this subculture with this art trade.

Now for something more cheerful. It’s the return of my OC Shiho Tenshi. I don’t know why I started thinking about them again. But here we go.

They’re wearing an outfit inspired by Princess Knight, a revolutionary shoujo manga. I started watching the anime when I was in England and it’s so fun! Also the main character is what we would call now nonbinary. Although you could make an argument that Prince Sapphire is trans masc. It’s thought to say.

Yeah. I don’t have much to add to this. Just happy to draw them again.

What’s this? A new OC alert?!

It’s a white rabbit everyone! We always need more of those. Inspired by 1920’s I Shanghai Art Nouveau posters it’s Ai Yuen. She’s a silent film actress and a spy. Originally I wanted her to be a spy for the Weasel Empire but now I think she should be a spy for Flower Hill. She seduces the animals she spies on. Tricking them into thinking that she’s just some bimbo you can spill all your secrets to.

She’s a mean girl only out for herself. She knows she’s talented and looks good. She knows her worth. Not going to lie, major lesbian vibes. I don’t know why. She grew up relatively poor and climbed that ladder. Getting rid of everyone who stood in her way. Deep down she’s really lonely. But she hates the idea of being vulnerable and needing others so she pushes it down with opium and other drugs.

Then she meets Shiho Tenshi. Someone with a similar background to her. But instead of being all alone they have their big acting troupe that’s like a found family. Ai slowly starts to open up. Thinking to herself that she’s only getting closer to Shiho because of her mission. A mission that would lead to her getting killed by Flower Hill if her true feelings were to get out.

She’s one of the OCs I made just because why not. I don’t have any ideas what to do with her. Well. Maybe I could make a doll of her later down the line? Let me know what you think.

[chubby-kiyo]

I’m a bit bored, so how’s about some non kink appearance headcanons

I’ll start with THH

Leon Kuwata - (He/Him bi, female pref)He’s an athlete, so I figure he’s kinda lean-muscle-ish, but with thicker thighs bc baseball players are just built different. Has smallish stretched ears (like 0g)

Sayaka Maizono - (She/Her, bi male pref) Built like a standard jpop idol, what else do you expect? She definitely puts blush and highlighter on her nose like a 2020 egirl.

Chihiro Fujisaki - (She/They, trans-femme (questioning), pan) All around petite, even their feet are tiny. Has chubby cheeks and a slight gap in her front teeth.

Mondo Oowada - (He/Him, gay) Muscular and a bit stocky, has naturally curly hair when he lets it down. Has scars on his hands from busting his knuckles. Pierced eyebrow, septum, and ears.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru - (He/Him, demisexual gay) Has a gym regimen that he sticks to religiously and is well muscled. He has fuller lips and a round face that don’t quite suit his body.

Celestia Ludenberg - (She/They, bi fem pref) She is plus sized and has an slight hourglass figure that is accentuated by her corset. Draws their eyebrows on in thin triangles and has a trad goth makeup look. Snakebites and stretched ears.

Hifumi Yamada - (He/They, aroace) We all know the man is fat, but the game really did him dirty. His body in my headcanon is evenly portioned and he has more of a hanging stomach that is tucked in his pants. Always wears comfy clothes because of sensory issues and has somewhat curly hair.

Sakura Ogami - (She/Her, pan) She’s already perfect in game. I do see her having softer facial features and thick curly hair though. She also loves to wear nude tinted lipgloss when she isn’t actively training.

Aoi Asahina - (She/Her, Lesbian) Midsized with thick thighs and muscular arms. Has a really cute button nose and a dusting of freckles. Has a small gold hoop nose ring.

Junko Enoshima - (She/Her, pan) She’s a supermodel, so yeah. She wears hair extensions, and her natural hair is pin straight. Has a small, upturned nose. (She also wears push up bras)

Mukuro Ikusaba - (She/They, Lesbian) All around muscular from combat training. Has freckles on her shoulders as well and scars on her hands/arms from knife fights.

Kyoko Kirigiri - (She/Her, bi, female pref) Slim and relatively flat chested, but doesn’t mind at all. Has very light colored eyelashes that match her hair.

Yasuhiro Hagakure - (He/Him, pan) Just kind of an average guy. He doesn’t work out or anything, so he’s a little bit soft. Scraggly facial hair. Likes to wear his locs in a ponytail with a bandanna, and he has some wood and glass beads in them. Pierced nostril and ears.

Toko Fukawa - (She/Her, Lesbian with one exception) Kind of scrawny and awkward. Hates wearing form-fitting clothes. Has knobby knees and doesn’t like wearing skirts that show them. Thick hair and eyebrows. She has freckles on her shoulders and a few other dark moles on her arms and back, like the one on her face. Is actually quite pretty, but doesn’t put any time into her appearance.

Byakuya Togami - (He/Him, Somewhere on the ace spectrum) Tall and thin, but not in an unhealthy way. Has long elegant fingers and big feet. Softer, androgynous looking facial features and double eyelashes.

Makoto Naegi - (He/Him FtM, pan) Is just kind of naturally chubby, and has a round baby face. Hasn’t had top surgery, but his body shape kind of evens him out. Thick, wavy hair. Has a gap in his front teeth and kind of a wide flat-ish nose with full lips.