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jennystahl · 2 years

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*oliver twist/charles dickens orphan boy voice* please dany i want some more…. in depth lore posts about your call of cthulhu hotties 🥺🙏🥣 background, career, personal relationships, fears, etc 🦑

MIDGE, born Marjorie, is a librarian at Miskatonic who also now owns her family's antique store. She's 34 as of 1926 and her main goal in life is to discover why her parents were murdered in that very antique store fourteen years prior. She was a fencer in her youth, still keeping up with the practice; she's quite adept. She studied medieval history at Miskatonic and got lucky to be employed in the library there once she graduated. She employs people to run the antique store (Tales Retold, or just the Templeton Antique Store) while she works or is off researching. As of right now in our timeline, she's in Berlin, following a lead on her parents' deaths and getting into all sorts of culty trouble with Wilhelmina Engel (belonging to @newbordeaux). She speaks fluent German and owns a lot of scary artifacts, the vast majority of which she knows nothing about.

DOVE is a gun moll through and through. She's 25 as of 1926 and lives a life of fun and vice, and she loves it. She met her gangster boyfriend, Elias, three years ago and whether it's a lifetime sorta thing is yet to be seen...but as of now, she loves him and she loves his money (yes, separately), especially since she came from poor stock in Providence. She has an older sister called Birdie that she still talks to, and she sends letters to her parents on occasion, but for the most part she can be found in her fancy apartment or in the numerous speakeasies she frequents, with or without Elias. She got brought into the horrors when she was called to New York to help with a distant relative's legal case...turns out she's heir-bound to a centuries-old blood curse that requires her to wear a special ring at all times lest she release a dimensional being hellbent on killing her and all of her relatives. All of that, and she didn't even get the curse's benefits.

GERRY, born Geraldine, is a sweet waitress who moonlights as a singer, but she's no flapper. She's a farm girl, young at 21 in 1926, who comes from a huge family in Missouri, and she escaped as soon as she could. She came to Arkham because it was as far as she could afford. Her singing name is Billie Dove, and that coincidence is how she befriended Dove, who frequents the bar that Gerry sings at every couple weeks. She lives in a boarding house, scraping by with tips from the diner and what she earns singing. Safiya (@newbordeaux) is her best friend, and they met when she came into Gerry's diner; that is, the diner Gerry works at, which is luckily owned by a kind man called Charles. She found a weird bag of marbles there once, and she'll probably learn one day that they're cursed as she continues down the path of horror and terror that Safiya started by mistake, visiting a house that proved to be both haunted and cursed. She's seen a previous crush and neighbor flay himself alive then turn into a monstrous creature, so she's a little unlucky in love.

STEVIE, born Stephanie, is Gerry's great-granddaughter with Arthur (another of @newbordeaux). Her hobbies are photography (her mother is a professional), cooking, and her rifle. She's 26 in 2019, the year of The Horrors with her best friend, Selena (again, @newbordeaux). They know that their great-grandmothers (Gerry and Safiya) knew each other, but they don't know about The Prior Horrors quite yet. She and Selena met as middle schoolers and became fast friends. In high school they started an early-years YouTube channel, full of cringey stuff... After graduating college they decided to revisit their YouTube channel, becoming urban explorers. She's a park ranger at Muskana Reservoir (former site of Dunwich, among other towns, as well as many horrors) so she has access to a lot of creepy places. They're quite successful with their channel, and it's one of these expeditions that leads to their experiencing of the nightmare. Cults of the color out of space and sunken Dunwich buildings and old cursed texts are what await her and Selena. She shouldn't have done so much research on cryptids during her college years.

#THANK YOU AND SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER LOL #i love them sm im gonna die . the horrors.#oc: midge #oc: dove #oc: gerry #oc: stevie #asks #roberthouses #i also uh. barely just made the dove and birdie connection. we'll say their parents did it on purpose #i mean birdie is def short for something but i never decided what lol

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clangenrising · 11 months

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Month 9 - Leaffall

Floodpaw stood up to his full height to peer over the grass. “I hope we see a rogue,” he said, straining his eyes to pick up any cats that might be encroaching on their borders. “I want to try out those new fighting tricks we learned.” Beside him, Barleypaw made an anxious noise in her throat and Sparrowpaw frowned.

“You shouldn’t want to get into a fight, Floodpaw. Good warriors hope for peace.”

“Who told you that?” Floodpaw snorted, looking at his brother.

“Russetfrond,” Sparrowpaw lifted his head in a way that made Floodpaw want to smack him. Since when had he been such a golden boy?

“We’re warriors,” he countered, “not Peace-iors.”

“War isn’t glamorous, Floodpaw,” Yarrowshade said, padding up from behind them. “We prepare for war because we have to but we should always try and avoid it when we can.”

“I guess,” Floodpaw grumbled. Having marked the border up ahead, Goldenstar raised her tail to beckon them to join her and Russetfrond.

“Come on,” said Yarrowshade, “we don’t want to get too far from the others.”

“Okay!” Sparrowpaw smiled, bounding after his mentor. Floodpaw rolled his eyes and followed at a more casual pace. Yarrowshade curled his tail over Barleypaw’s back as they went and she leaned against his leg, purring lightly.

She had told Floodpaw how much she liked having Yarrowshade as a mentor but Floodpaw didn’t get it. All they did was hunt all day and he was always being goofy and wrong and stuff. Floodpaw was glad she was happy but even more glad that Yarrowshade wasn’t his mentor. He’d hoped, on their ceremony day, that Russetfrond would be his mentor, and while he still looked up to the big ginger a lot, he had realized that Russetfrond was really strict. Sparrowpaw didn’t mind - he was always talking about how happy he was to check the elders for ticks or clean out the dens - but Floodpaw was again grateful that he didn’t have to put up with so many chores and exercises.

In his opinion, Goldenstar was the best mentor he could have been given. She was smart, funny, and knew a lot about fighting. When they would train together, she was always really good about showing him how to do things without making him feel stupid like Russetfrond sometimes did, and she was a lot more easy going when it came to his chores. Yeah, Floodpaw was pretty sure he was the luckiest cat in the Clan, maybe the world.

The only thing that would make him even luckier is if he got to have a battle with a real live rogue.

“Come on,” Goldenstar said when they approached, “We’ve got a lot of border to cover.”

“Goldenstar,” asked Floodpaw, “do you think we’ll see any rogues today?”

“Let’s hope not,” she laughed, ears pressing back a bit.

“But why though?” he frowned. “Shouldn’t we want to show them they can’t mess with our territory?”

“Sure,” she said, leading the way through the fields of dry, dull grass, “But I’d rather do that with a patrol of warriors than three brand new apprentices.” Floodpaw frowned harder.

“Do you not think I’m a good fighter?” he asked. “I thought you said I had a knack for it.”

“It’s not about knack,” Russetfrond said gruffly, “it’s about experience. No matter how talented you are, a cat with more experience will best you in a fight.”

“You don’t know that,” Floodpaw retorted.

“I do, actually,” Russetfrond growled.

“Trust us, kid,” Goldenstar smiled. “You’ve got a long way to go.” Floodpaw glowered, hunching his shoulders, and stomped along behind them.

“What would we do if we did run into rogues?” Sparrowpaw asked brightly.

“Good question,” said Goldenstar. “Russetfrond, Yarrowshade, and I would handle it while you went back to camp for help.”

“Really?” Floodpaw griped, “Wouldn’t it be better if only one of us went for help and the others stayed to fight?”

“Maybe,” Yarrowshade shrugged, “but it’s more important that all of you stay safe.”

“And even more important that you listen and do what you’re told,” Russetfrond growled, causing Yarrowshade to side eye him. “There’s no time to argue in a fight. You listen to your mentor and that’s that.”

“Ugh,” Floodpaw groaned.

“Watch your tone,” snapped Russetfrond.

Goldenstar flicked her tail and said, “Alright, ease up, Russetfrond.” The warrior grumbled to himself but said nothing else and Floodpaw smirked, raising his head triumphantly. He loved that his mentor could tell anyone to leave him alone and they had to listen.

The rest of the patrol was dull and monotonous. They stopped every few meters to mark the border with their scent and Goldenstar took the time to show them how to know what scents were theirs and which scents belonged to other Clans. At one point, Yarrowshade stopped to show them a ground squirrel burrow. Barleypaw was enthralled by it but Floodpaw just kept hoping a gang of rogues would spring out of the grass and surprise them.

Eventually, they neared the Thunderpath, and the group fell silent, intent on listening and watching for threats. The tension in the air was palpable. It was kind of frightening to Floodpaw to see the adults acting so seriously, but also exciting. Every time they paused to mark a border, one of the adults stood up tall to keep watch on rotation. Floodpaw tried to join them, perking his big ears towards the city, but he was still too small to comfortably see over the grass.

At one point, Russetfrond bent to check a scent marker and his lip curled in a snarl. “Goldie,” he said sharply, “Strangers.” Goldenstar, who had been on watch, glanced at Yarrowshade and he took her place so she could inspect the strange scent. Floodpaw leaned closer to catch a smell of it too. It was acrid and thick, stinging his nose and clinging to the roof of his mouth like an unwelcome guest.

“Eugh,” he muttered, pulling away. Goldenstar trailed the scent a bit, following it back and forth where it crossed the border, before standing up tall, jaw set grimly.

“A few cats,” she said, “They went deeper into the territory.” Lifting her head, she looked after the scent trail with a frown.

“Should we run back to camp?” Barleypaw asked, voice soft with fright. Goldenstar considered it with a thoughtful hum. Floodpaw followed her gaze, marking the angle the trespassers had been going and comparing that to the angle they would have to follow back to camp. If the path followed a straight line, they shouldn’t run into each other.

“Yeah, I think so,” Goldenstar said, glancing between Russetfrond and Yarrowshade. Both toms nodded, resolute in what needed to be done. Floodpaw’s heart sank.

“Go quickly but quietly,” she continued. “Find Nightfrost and follow her instructions.”

“I should go with you guys,” Floodpaw said, stepping forward. “Sparrowpaw and Barleypaw can handle delivering a message by themselves, I’ll help you guys find the-”

“No,” Goldenstar interrupted firmly and Floodpaw recoiled. This was the first time she had outright told him no like that. He didn’t like it.

“There’s no time for arguing,” Russetfrond said again. “Get going.”

“This is important,” added Yarrowshade. “It might not feel like it, but we need you to do this for us.”

Goldenstar nodded, putting on a smile that felt far too condescending. “We’re counting on you three.”

“Come on,” Sparrowpaw grinned determinedly. “Let’s go get Nightfrost!” Barleypaw nodded with a small affirmative grunt. Floodpaw, still staring at Goldenstar, realized there was nothing he could do, and lowered his head with a sigh.

“Fine.”

The three of them took off, slinking through the grass with Sparrowpaw in the lead, winding their way over the hills towards camp. The route was clear and easy and they made good time, but Floodpaw couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder every so often.

He sighed again, absolutely dejected. “I can’t believe they’re gonna fight rogues and we don’t get to be there.”

“I don’t want to be there!” Barleypaw squeaked. “If they think it’s too dangerous we should trust them!”

“You’re just a coward,” he huffed.

“A-am not!” she protested weakly.

“Are too!” he pushed back. “What good are your stupid ‘magic feathers’ if you get scared of everything anyway?”

“Hey!” she cried, clearly hurt, and Floodpaw knew he was going to feel bad later.

“Stop it,” Sparrowpaw glared at him. “A good warrior follows his leader. This is important training. Besides, you’re too mean to Barleypaw.”

“Am not!” Floodpaw hissed.

“You are!” insisted Sparrowpaw. “You shouldn’t be so hard on your Clanmates. We should be helping each other!”

“Exactly!” Floodpaw cried, “That’s why we should be helping Goldenstar instead of running back to camp with our tails between our legs!”

“We are helping!” groaned Sparrowpaw.

“Guys, we’re supposed to be quiet,” whined Barleypaw.

“You’re just scared they’ll find us,” Floodpaw growled. “But not me! I hope they find us! I can’t wait to tear their stupid ears off.”

“What do we have here?” a voice ahead of them and to the east caused all three apprentices to skid to a halt. Floodpaw felt his gut twist in shame. They’d been so busy arguing they hadn’t been paying attention to their surroundings.

Stepping out of the grass was a sable pelted tom with a perfectly notched ear, like Aldertail’s. He had a plethora of scars, especially over his muzzle, including one that ran over one of his dark blue eyes. Behind him, two more cats emerged. The first was a white she-cat with speckled ears and a gloomy look in her crusty green eyes and the second was a thin blue and white she-cat with copper eyes that darted here and there anxiously. Both of them had matching ear notches - city cats.

“I told you I heard something!” chattered the blue one reedily.

“Quiet, Midge!” the tom snapped at her, causing her to shrink back into a trembling ball. Floodpaw felt Barleypaw press tightly against him, shaking herself. He did his best to square his shoulders and look unintimidated.

“They’re kits,” the white one said dully.

“No we’re not!” Floodpaw said, and the tom’s eyes snapped to him in a way that made his stomach squirm like a pinned mouse. Despite that, he continued. “We’re warrior apprentices and we’re not afraid of you!”

“Oh, ho, ho,” the tom chuckled wryly, “they’re warrior apprentices.”

“Ohhh,” the blue one laughed nervously, eyes on the tom.

“Only apprentices?” the white one asked. “So not real warriors then.”

“Maybe,” Floodpaw puffed his chest up, “but we’re still stronger than you are!”

Sparrowpaw shifted worriedly and hissed, “Shut up!” under his breath.

“He’s got spunk!” the tom sneered, starting to circle the apprentices. Barleypaw flattened herself against the ground and Floodpaw stood as tall as he could, turning to face the tom as he went. Meanwhile, Sparrowpaw crouched lowly, watching the other cats while Floodpaw’s back was turned on them. The tom grinned at Floodpaw, tilting his head as he continued, “I wonder what the Folk would think of him?”

“Focus, Van Pelt,” growled the white cat, and his smile turned to a snarling glare in a split second as he turned his gaze on her.

“Watch it, bitch,” he hissed, pelt prickling. “Ghost put me in charge, remember?”

“Ghost?” Sparrowpaw breathed in shock.

The white cat rolled her eyes, unphased, and said, “We’re looking for a cat who came this way a few days ago, a brown spotted tabby with a notched ear.” She gestured to her own ear with a paw.

“Yeah,” the tom said, grinning again, “you kiddies wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”

“No,” Sparrowpaw said carefully, and Floodpaw nodded in agreement.

“We’ve never seen her in our lives,” he added.

“Really?” The tom circled closer and Floodpaw stumbled over Barleypaw in his attempt to keep turning with him. The tom took the opportunity to lunge forward, teeth snapping, and Barleypaw screamed, Floodpaw toppling over her as he tried to pull backwards. The tom laughed, a harsh and ugly laugh that Floodpaw had never heard before and hoped he never heard again. He hurried to his feet again, dread creeping through his pelt.

“Stop it!” Sparrowpaw cried, his fluffy coat bushing up.

“Stop it,” mocked the tom in a whiny voice. Looking back to his companions, he asked, “Aren’t they just the cutest?”

“They don’t know where she is,” fretted the blue one, “let’s just leave them and move on, ‘kay?”

“I’m inclined to agree,” the white one droned. “We’re wasting our time here.”

“I dunno…” drawled the tom with a shrug, “I think they know more than they’re letting on.” He stepped in to loom over them, back arching aggressively. “Maybe a good swipe or two might jog their memory.”

Floodpaw raised himself up on his tiptoes to be as big as he possibly could, spitting with what he hoped was enough ferocity to give the tom some pause. “Touch us and I’ll tear your ugly pelt off!” he hissed.

The tom shook his head with a sneer, then snapped, “You need to learn some manners, kid!” punctuating the word with a swipe that staggered Floodpaw and left him reeling. A hot droplet of blood started to well up from a small knick in Floodpaw’s cheek. Barleypaw screamed again and the tom rounded on her, snarling, “Quiet! You kits have to learn there are consequences to your actions.”

Fury welled up inside Floodpaw and he shoved himself to his feet. “Leave her alone!” he shouted and leapt at the tom like Goldenstar had taught him. His claws found purchase in the tom’s thick, grimy pelt and he cried out in pain, rearing away. Floodpaw pushed his advantage, lashing out at the rogue with quick, sharp strikes. His blood pounded in his ears as every part of him began to sing with the thrill of battle.

The tom swiped at him a few times, falling back under the torrent of swipes. Distantly, Floodpaw heard the white cat chuckle to herself. The tom snarled at the noise, dug in his heels, and lunged for Floodpaw with his teeth bared. Floodpaw knew he wasn’t fast enough to dodge. Instead, he bunched his muscles and flowed with the movement of the tom’s tackle, using his momentum to flip them both end over end. Twisting and clawing, he yowled, and Sparrowpaw’s eyes lit up.

“Help!” Sparrowpaw cried as loudly as he could. Barleypaw caught on and joined him. “Help! Help!” they wailed.

The white one frowned and stepped forward. “Enough of that,” she said, but neither of them stopped their shouting.

Floodpaw and the tom split apart, panting, and the tom hissed over, “Would you shut those kits up already?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” she snapped back at him. Floodpaw’s tail lashed and he sprang again, catching the tom off guard. Lunging for the throat, he eagerly sank his teeth into the tom, expecting to taste a gush of blood, but found himself holding a fold of loose skin instead. The tom wrapped his paws around Floodpaw and twisted, taking them both to the ground, and sank his own teeth into Floodpaw’s shoulder. Floodpaw yowled in pain and struggled to break free. The pain sobered him up and he felt sudden fear spike through him. Goldenstar had been right. He wasn’t ready.

“Pipe down right now!” growled the white one, “Or else!”

“Tad!” keened the blue one, “Company!” Floodpaw heard it too, the sound of paws pounding in their direction. With a furious yowl, Russetfrond burst from the grass and crashed into the tom pinning Floodpaw. His teeth found the brown cat’s unmarked ear and tore, spattering blood over Floodpaw’s face. The tom rolled away in lieu of holding onto Floodpaw, leaving him free to climb to his paws again. Russetfrond roared, bashing the tom over the head with his heavy paws, beating the slight brown tom back with every blow.

Goldenstar charged out of the grass as well and she and the white she-cat tussled for a moment before breaking apart to glare at each other. Goldenstar’s tail tip twitched threateningly as she bared her teeth at the two female rogues. Yarrowshade followed closely behind, stopping beside Floodpaw to look him over.

“Are you alright?” he asked, licking Floodpaw’s wounded shoulder.

“I’m great,” Floodpaw smiled, pupils blown wide in excitement.

“Yarrowshade!” whimpered Barleypaw, hurrying to hide under her mentor’s belly.

“It’s alright,” he said, “We’ve got you now.”

Russetfrond and the tom broke apart finally and stopped, glaring at each other. The group came to a temporary standstill, silence hanging heavily in the air.

“You are not welcome here!” Goldenstar boomed. “This is RisingClan territory and we will not tolerate an attack like this.”

“I knew there were savages out here,” the tom panted with a manic grin, “but I didn’t expect such a brute.” Russetfrond snarled and edged closer, an unspoken warning.

“Ignore him,” the white cat said, crouching low. “We’re just looking for one of our own who came this way, a spotted tabby named Scrap. If you tell us what you know about her, we’ll be on our way.”

“You’ll be on your way now,” Goldenstar snarled. “Consider yourself lucky I don’t take what’s left of your ears for harming our apprentices.”

“Thank you,” the blue one spoke up. “We’re undeserving of such mercy. We’ll leave right away.” She glanced at the other two, urging them to agree with her eyes. The white one nodded and backed away a bit.

“Yes, thank you for your kindness,” she said guardedly. The tom growled and lashed his tail, casting a spiteful glance at his companions, before he wordlessly stepped away and joined them.

“Don’t let me catch you in our territory again,” hissed Goldenstar.

“You won’t,” the white one promised. Something in the tom’s backward glance gave Floodpaw the feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

Once the group had slunk out of earshot, Goldenstar looked at Russetfrond and said, “Make sure they leave the territory. I’ll send someone to check in with you once we get back to camp.” Russetfrond nodded and headed after them, although not before he gave a sideways glance at Sparrowpaw. The apprentice shrank a bit, looking guilty.

“Come on,” Goldenstar said to the rest of them, “Let’s go back to camp.”

“Are we in trouble?” Barleypaw asked from under Yarrowshade, big ears pinned backwards.

“No,” Goldenstar sighed. “In fact, I owe you all an apology. I put you in danger and that’s my fault.”

“It’s okay,” Sparrowpaw said, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t have been arguing so loud in the first place.”

“Did you see how I fought him?” Floodpaw asked eagerly, moving to keep pace with Goldenstar.

She looked down at him and smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I did. That was very brave of you, Floodpaw.”

“I didn’t start it, y’know,” he said. “He hit me first.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said genuinely. “It’s good that you know not to start fights you can’t win.”

“But you guys won,” he grinned, still floating on adrenaline. “That was awesome! You and Russetfrond are so cool!”

“Thanks, kid,” she chuckled. “Now come on, let’s get your dad to look at your shoulder.

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