#I remember you saying something about wanting to make Beldam more~

[paradoxrealm]

A Return Worth Waiting For...~

...Again, only twice. The first time around Mikearu and I were shadowed and our appearances and powers matched our shadows almost exactly. Then we were Vibe Checked by Reality and we were turned into these little creatures made of light called "Spirit Guardians". And it wasn't just us either, Mikearu's dimension, the entire planet was back to life and thriving, including his mother. During our time as Spirit Guardians Mikearu and I got married, we had our kids, they were Spirit Guardians too, and some time after that... we got hit with a second Reality Check that turned us back, not just to ourselves, but Mikearu into his native species before he was a lich, a Spirit Vessel. And it wasn't just us that time, the kids were changed too. They were no longer Spirit Guardians but instead mixed race. They were Spirit Vessel and Newid Un. After that second Reality Check we've been the same ever since.

Now the only changes are the natural discoveries we've been making...

...God, for this place? ...Anything could've been changed and we wouldn't know until we see it...

She sighed as she ran her hand down her face, all three minds immediately turning to what else and who else may have been changed. She eventually shifted to be in a kneeling position instead, turning to face Snatcher fully.

...Snatcher, I have a feeling that it's not just you. If you can, get back to the overworld and check on everyone. I mean it. Check on Mu, Hattie, the tenants, the damn well that the key is in, check on all of them to see if any of them are changed.

While you do that, I'm going to check on Moon.

Pushing herself back up to her feet she took the moment to dust herself off and check her surroundings. She can't have been moved that far from the garden...

...I doubt he'll have gone far... ...I have a feeling he might've gotten moved to his workshop in the house during the Reality Check...

You stay safe, okay?

—————

He hissed, making some small comment about not bossing him around. “Let’s see if the openings are still in the same place…” He slithered away with a goodbye flick of his tail, his shifting scales soon disappearing into the grass.

The area around seemed roughly the same- some trees were in different places, the colors slightly shifted- more blues and pinks than before.

The house was much the same as the outside- except she could hear Beldam humming inside. She caught a brief view of his shadow before it moved away from view- far taller than he was normally, his head twisted into something of a crescent as four legs tapped along, slowly turning to two, though it was hard to hear the difference over his song.

#submission #exactly!~ #the Mandela Effect is actually a great way of putting it!~ #like for example~ #I remember you saying something about wanting to make Beldam more~ #conniving~ #fae esc~ #harder to get close to right?~ #Did you still wanna make that change?~ :) #oooooooh what a delight you are #not that I’m super well read on fae but let’s see what I’ve got djsjsjsj #<3 #ic #coraline au #a return worth waiting for

[dreamingwitchcal]

Okay, something I just realized was that. Vivziepop could've avoided going to voodoo route & making his character black (even though the fandom thinks he isn't). By making Alastor have some form of connection to morticians. Because, from my current knowledge (I wanted to be one & fixated on Mortician work for 5-6 months & talked to an actual funeral director.) They used to sow the mouth & eyes of the fallen shut. Remove the organs, and fill their veins with chemicals. Granted if the vein one happened in 1920's, I doubt it. But then again, I don't know for sure. So, y'all know how in the movie Coraline, the Beldam makes the Coraline Doll & preforms ancient Mortician work on her in the beginning? I believe that Vivzie could've done something like that since if you look at Alastors Demon-deer form when talking to Husk / Fighting the loansharks in EP.5. It in some scenes kinda resembles the Beldam. Plus the Beldam worked with a doll. So it'd be plausible that Alastor could too in a similar matter. So here's my idea on the history of Alastor / His Backstory ;

Alastor, the son of two famous morticians in the 1890's Louisiana. Was a Mama's boy, his mother was always the more caring of his two parents. His father was always buried in his work of funeral directing. Al's father only really bonded with Alastor while they're embalming or preparing a casket. When Alastor was a kid he always LOVED to greet the kin of the fallen at the door. He always chatted with them & made them feel better, but his favourite part of his family's work was the act of prepping the dead to be downed. He enjoyed the smell of the decaying carcass & the feeling that got sent into him whilst sewing them shut. Just as his mother would sew shut a scratched arm on him. Along with the beautiful tune she would senranade him with as his eyes prickled as a young lad. His favourite song, “Your never fully dressed without a smile.”. And that song was the song he sang while embalming his mother. He knew that her death hit him hard. But he didn't know that her death would affect the decision of if he was going to Heaven, or Hell. But life moves on, and Alastor found his profession. In being a charming, hilarious, Radio Host. Quickly becoming a hit, a huge radio wave that brought others off balance. But the hunger from his childhood, the entertainment of controlling the dead by means of the normal dead prepping, plus a few extra details, like a deer symbol scribed in chalk on the lower back, sewing the mouth shut with a smile, and keeping the blood he exchanged from the body intern of Embalming fluid. He then use the dead skin of White tailed deer - specifically young bucks or yearlings. He started his deer-embalming escapade in the late 1920's around say 1928. He continued his current life as a Radio Host, but with the secret that he was a serial killer of course. And well Alastor made sure none of the people in his inner circle would betray him. He made sure of that by avoiding the advances of women by all cost.. Only being close with a select few. And his life was eventful, yet it was inevitable he would one day meet his fate. Which he did, on a late September evening. Being mistaken for a Buck by a hunter while skinning a yearling & injecting blood into its hide. Getting shot in the head & mauled by dogs. Only to wake up in Hell, next to an old radio station, grinning in delight..

----

That was the only article I used, and I used it to make sure that I didn't accidentally use Voodoo. If I did, I apologize . Because from my current knowledge, it's a closed practice. Actually, I lied I probably used other articles ( I can't remember them to be honest.) Also if I'm being honest I'm quite proud of that backstory I whipped up, especially since I made this at a highschool basketball game. When I started my HS Girls team just started, around 7:53, 1st qt & now it's the 4th qt. 1:31 & were losing 20 - 34 😭. Anyways enough of that, once again my only credentials for using the information about deer, & Mortician work is that 1) I'm currently fixated on deer (I have a collection of antlers :D ) 2) I'm A Midwesterner, ofc I know a lot of random shit Abt deer & 3) I used to be interested in Mortician work & being a mortician for a solid 5-6 months & spoke to a Funeral Director before.

#shitpost #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #late night thoughts #Im bored #& tired #sleep would be nice also school sucks #I was jamming out to 1920's music for awhile before my earbuds died that was fun ngl 1920's music slaps HARD #1920's music <3 #Also I'm 1000000000% taking the backstory I made and using it on my own character because I genuinely find it hella cool #just inagine THIS is the blog to flop 💀💀💀

[covenofwives]

Hi coven!! I've had the realization that one of the factors that caused me to absolutely fall in love with your au (other than the fact that it's so well written and amazing) is that I used to have an obsession with Greek mythology as a kid ahfkbdksns and I LOVEDDDD the gods and goddesses I thought and even still think they're so coooool.

So!!! I wanted to ask about the other gods that exist in your world :D since it's been mentioned before both by you AND in fics that the god trio we follow are rather powerful gods compared to others, based on the fact that they each are a god of a Realm. Which means there are many other gods that exist and even some that XD has passed by while walking through the god world! Are they similar to Greek gods then? The ones that aren't powerful gods of a Realm? Are there gods of music, love, war, knowledge, ect? There's even a god of gods, Prime! Is kind of like their version of the Greek Zeus I'm assuming :D

Ik I'm comparing your au a bunch to other things I'm sorry 😭 I just love the comparison and love the world building so much to wanna know more about the godly world of your au ^_^

-emmadoodlewrites

I love this comparison so much because I do take a lot of inspiration from gods mythology. Specifically from greek, roman and celtic of course being the main ones. I honestly don't mind the comparisons at all.

But yes! There are many gods in the AU! I so badly want to write more about them and some with definitely be making appearances in some of the story but there are a LOT of Gods. Very similar to Greek Gods in that each God is the ruler of a thing, or maybe more. It could be a concept, like love or art or it could be something physical, like mobs or fire. I will give a few as examples of Gods, just because I will adore talking about them :D

Under the cut of course to not annoy people

Prime is very much Zeus inspired, being the God of Gods. They are as old as time, probably the first living thing that ever came and from them they created the Realms and let creatures grow and live from it. They are a very inactive God right now, keeping out of the living world and staying away from the Godly Realm too. Only XD knows where they are currently.

The Gods, Knowledge and Madness, are a sister brother duo. While they are Gods in their own right they are considered as lesser Gods with not much power. They currently reside in the End, keeping the End libraries safe.

Cridhe is the God of healing and currently lives her life as a statue at the Healing Pool in the End. She's a very close friend to XD, almost a mother or older sister to him. Dream and Drista have met her before but Dream doesn't remember her much.

Beldam is the God of the witches, though she is cursed at the moment to reside in the Nether and be cut off from her witches. She will absolutely be appearing the story later so won't say much, but I will say she and 4K have an interesting relationship to one another.

CovenTK (designed and made by @an-inkling-of) is the God of mobs and the moon. They are my good good child and I love them and they're canon. I want them to appear so badly in the AU, maybe they will but they got their own thing going and I'm always going to make more stuff with them.

The God of the Hunt is actually connected to CovenTK right now. They were actually punished by Prime thousands of years ago and were split into two souls. Now they are a timid wolf, named Chase, and a hot-headed deer, named Dash. They are both connected and cannot be separated and CovenTK has adopted them for now.

And there are many many more Gods I could go into but I will restrain myself here other wise this will be LONG. But yes, very much greek inspired. There are also tiers of Gods, like lesser gods being a thing and some Gods were made far later than other Gods (like Knowledge and Madness are one of the youngest Gods) and there's other creatures that don't count as Gods but could technically be compared to mortals. It is a whole crazy mess of powerful Gods.

Also some Gods have chosen to live on the Godly Realm, either giving up their God responsibilities or just choosing to live there and still being a God, but it doesn't have much effect on what they are a God of. If the God of love were to retire or, somehow, die then of course there would still be love. The God of witches is cut off from her witches but she is still considered their God and the witches are still around.

#emmadoodlewrites #godsiblingau #i love making gods its my favourite pasttime #also i don't think the gods would be divided by 'god' 'godess' in the au cause most if not all gods are fluid with gender #so they're all just called god

[that-september-in-the-rain]

September in the Rain | George Weasley

notes: George Weasley x genderneutral!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, set in ootp, inspired by the song September in the Rain by Dinah Washington, the bold are the lyrics to the song

The leaves of brown

Came tumbling down,

Remember

In September in the rain

Autumn was always a beautiful season, the lush green leaves changing colours to vibrant oranges and reds, then falling to ground, to prepare their trees for the harsh winter. Autumn was an even more beautiful season when you could spend it with, or staring at, the person you’re in love with, it makes the colours of the leaves seem brighter, the temperature drop becomes more bearable, and the rains that come and go make you fantasize about kissing them in it. The person that unintentionally made your world lively was George Weasley, your best friend since first year, when you met him and his twin on the train, and you quickly fell in love with George, with the way he laughs at his own jokes, with the way his smile grows when he gets a letter from his mum, with the way his eyes light up when he talks about opening up a joke shop with Fred, with every single little thing he does.

 You were sitting under a tree, trying to do some school work, ignoring the light rain coming down, but it became difficult to read the book Professor Umbridge gave your class, when all you could think about was George. So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice him coming up to you. “You’re not actually reading Umbridge’s book, are you?,” George’s voice scared you out of your thoughts, “merlin Georgie, you scared me,” you said as closed your eyes and clutched your chest, not noticing the way he blushed at the nickname. ”And yes, I am actually reading this book, after you told me what that woman did to you in detention I don’t want to risk getting in trouble with her.” You both grimaced at the memory of George meeting you in your common room, near tears and with a scarred hand, that’s something neither of you would ever forget. He sat down next to you and grabbed the book out of your hand. Then he threw it away. “I refuse to let you read that book,” George said as he sent you a wicked grin. ”George!” you shouted “That beldam will seriously kill me if I don’t do my homework,” you stood up to get the book when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down “Oh, no need to be so dramatic Y/N, you can just read it later,” you glared at him “Besides, I would never let her hurt you,” he spoke as he stared into your eyes, your face softened at that, “You don’t mean that” you said as you turned your face to look at the castle straight ahead, George put his hand on your cheek, guiding your face to look directly in his eyes “I absolutely do mean that, I lov-,” but he didn’t get to finish his sentence as strong autumn wind came by, blowing leaves off of the tree above the two of you, and both of you closed your eyes and waited for the wind to pass. After a couple seconds the wind stopped and you both opened your eyes, and started giggling like children at the amount leaves stuck in each others, slightly wet, hair.

The sun went out

Just like a dying ember

That September in the rain 

You two stayed under that tree, just enjoying each others presence, watching silently as the sun started to set. The rain had started to get a bit heavier but neither of you cared, you both wanted this moment to last for as long as possible. You had completely forgotten about George’s unfinished sentence, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wanted to tell you so bad how much he loved you, how much he wanted to be with you, and he had finally plucked up courage to do so, especially after Fred threatened to tell you himself if George didn’t say something soon, but then the wind stopped him, he almost thought that was the universe telling him that you’ll reject him and never speak to him again, and thought of you never speaking to him again nearly killed him on the spot, he couldn’t lose you , that was the reason he hadn’t said anything sooner, but Fred had told him that you definitely felt the same. “What’re you thinking about?” you asked, “Nothing, I’m just enjoying the sunset,” he lied, it’s not like he could say that he was thinking about how madly in love he is with you, he hoped you’d believe it but you didn’t look convinced “What makes you think I’m thinking about something?” “Because you’re making that face,” “What face?” “The face you make when you’re thinking about something,” George scoffed at that “How would you know what face I was making? Were you staring at me?” he started grinning, It was your turn to scoff now, you absolutely were staring at him, but you weren’t going to admit that “I was not, I just took glance in your direction and noticed your face,” “Oh yeah, totally.” You shoved his arm as you spoke “Oh just shut up Georgie,” and he did shut up, not because you told him to, but because he wouldn’t have been able to form a sentence after you called him ‘Georgie’. You went back to sitting in silence as you watched the sun gracefully go down, as you watched the sky slowly turned from the bright orange and peachy pink, to a calming blue and purple, then you watched as the clouds started to cover more, and more of the sky, and started to turn into darker greys.

To every word of love

I heard you whisper

The raindrops seemed to play

A sweet refrain

There was a bright flash of lightning followed by a loud boom of thunder, signifying the heavy rain about to come, you both looked up at the sky and then the rain started bucketing down, cold drops of water enveloped the both of you, George realised that you might catch a cold if you stay out here, so he grabbed your hand as he stood up, pulling you up with him, ”What’re you doing?” you shouted to him, “Getting you inside so you won’t get sick,” he yelled over his shoulder. You got halfway towards the castle when you stopped him as you remembered something, “George, I need to back get my book!” He turned around to face you when he started laughing, “You stopped us from getting to shelter just so could read a book? You are one of a kind Y/N’” he said as he smiled, took a step closer to you and put his hand on your cheek. Neither of you realised that you were both slowly leaning in until your noses touched, “I know” you said through a giggle as you put your hands on the back of neck and he put his other hand on your waist, you looked down to his lips covered in rain drops then looked up into his eyes, and he did the same thing to you. “Can I kiss you?” George said softly, “Yes” you replied barely above a whisper, but he still heard you and closed the small gap between your lips. He was a beautiful kisser, and had the softest lips you’ve ever felt. You could hardly believe that you actually kissing George Weasley, the person you were in love with ever since you were 11, and that he wanted to kiss you just as much as you wanted to kiss him. You both eventually pulled apart to breathe and when you did you rested your forehead against his. “Y/N, I love you so much,” he whispered to you as the repetitive sound of the rain comforted you, and the coolness of it keeping your face from heating up, “I love you too, Georgie,” you whispered back.

Though spring is here,

To me it’s still September

The school year was nearly over, with only about a month left, and you couldn’t be more excited for the year to end, your boyfriend George wouldn’t be graduating with you as he and Fred dropped out of school a while ago and you missed him a lot, but it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so you and George decided to meet at The Three Broomsticks to catch up, as you did every opportunity you got, and that’s why you were sitting in a booth next to your boyfriend giggling at some stupid joke he made. You both stared at each other with bright smiles on your faces, when George put his hand on your cheek and leaned in to kiss you, and it reminded you of that beautiful night in autumn when you first kissed and confessed your feelings to each other. “You know, Georgie, you still owe me a book.”

That September in the rain

#george weasley fanfiction #george wealsey x reader #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george wealsey imagine #george weasley imagines #fred weasley #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

[running-with-kn1ves]

Hey 👋 I really love ❤️ your writing 🥰can you please make Yandere Beldam with pregnant reader where she attempted abortion . What would be his reactions about this? Besides she hides her pregnancy for him and attempts to abortion.

A/N: Oh boy I've honestly never written something like this, so bare with me! I really want to keep my page controversy free, so if this doesn't entice anyone, please skip! Honestly-- I think the belsire would genuinely just want to eat the mf kid, but I wanted to keep the element of yandere in here.

TW: Attempted miscarriage, implied sexual relations, possessive/obsessive behavior, abusive relationship dynamic

Male! Beldam X Fem! Reader

The belsire’s opinions and interactions with humans is incredibly important. As he puts up a faux act, it's unknown whether or not he does so to solely eat them, or because he desires something more: like love. In order to devour his victims' souls, the creature must get the person to feel a semblance of love for him; or at least, the idea of him. Whether he’s truthful in his own affectionate behavior at first is not known. He acts kindly, trying to lure them in a way to feel the same. But whether or not this is to swallow their souls or to receive the affection of another person is hidden.

For the sake of argument, Let’s assume he does feel love for his victims, which is why he lures them into his realm; he wants someone to care deeply for him, and does it to trick them into staying. In this situation, eating their souls is something he feels is necessary in order to feel the utmost love he can from that person.

You, have been stuck in his realm for a good long while now. The belsire is determined to make you provide that attention to him, as he tries to do the same. But that turns to possessiveness and obsession. Your hot and cold reactions to being sweet and kind, only to scratch and kick him upon remembering how trapped you are, makes him feel indecisive on eating you or not. He doesn’t want that love to go away; but making his victims a part of him is something he cannot help but do.

A night where you had blocked out the fact that you were trapped in this fake reality, you allowed the belsire to sleep next to you. You didn’t intend anything upon happening. You hardly even moved. But the creature lying next to you had other ideas.

“My perfect little doll is what you are.”

When you found your period was late for the past two months, and a bump was forming upon your stomach, things seemed to take a turn for the worst. You didn’t tell him; terrified of his reaction you planned on getting rid of the growing thing in your stomach secretly. You didn’t even know if it was possible to get pregnant from a thing like him, but the increasing signs began to show.

The belsire began to notice the odd new symptoms, but you feverishly lied, saying it was a growing sickness. You’d spend days in bed at a time, faking a fever or because you were in a genuine amount of pain.

Trying every natural method you could, you were on the brink of madness. Swallowing spoonfuls of cinnamon daily to hitting yourself in the stomach, nothing worked.

The creature observed you; the idea that something so human like a pregnancy could ever happen, never occurred to him. The constant change of moods and sickness were worrying but he didn’t understand until he witnessed you with a coat hanger in hand. You didn’t fully intend on acting on the idea; but the thought of raising a child with that thing who claimed to be your lover was horrifying. You just stared. The hanger looked enticing but you knew it would be painful. You were about to put it back on the wrack before the belsire walked in, noticing your uncovered stomach with the hanger in hand.

You had covered yourself in layers of clothes for the past few months in order to not arouse suspicion, but today you had lacked that disguise, assuming you’d be alone in the room.

The belsire’s cold and harsh demeanor was the same; ever since you realized he had other ideas for your best interest, (being locking you away without the company of another soul besides him) he never treated you kindly or fondly like he did for that short period of time. You were both terrified and relieved to experience his true nature, knowing he wouldn’t hide anger or fury behind a mask.

The witchly creature didn’t know what he wanted; in this sense, he wanted someone to show adoration for him, and the possibility of a child could bring upon that. He could see a real family occurring once you gave birth; and consuming a child of his own creation which had no other choice but to love him, would give him the everlasting attention he needed.

The fact that you had the idea of ripping that away from him, was infuriating. That wasn’t your intention but he wouldn’t buy it. Seeing how you could be a danger to yourself and the baby in this way, the creature wouldn’t allow you alone. You’d either be supervised, or chained in the basement.

Seeing you with that coat hanger, just the idea of it, brought an influx of emotions. He had a deep punishment in store for you, but decided against it; only for the child. This mix of DNA brewing in your stomach would bring you closer to him; he had the perfect plan. The belsire never was fond of children especially, but the love and loyalty they had for their parents brought a new world of possibility. He could manipulate it in such a way that was so easy, allowing any child to love him, to quench the affection he desired.

As you kicked and screamed, trying to break away from his long claws and white skin, the belsire felt a rush of enjoyment, knowing you’d soon find yourself even more drawn to him. He was excited to devour you, and the future being that would soon be born.

#belsire #beldam #the beldam #x reader #yandere #obsessive #possessive #lovesick #yandere x reader #coraline #the other mother #yandere aesthetic #lovesick aesthetic #reader insert #self insert #fanfiction #coraline fanfiction #abusive behavior #miscarriage #attempted miscarraige #romance horror

[yanderecandystore]

i ment dominick im so sorry!

Oh!

Alright boo, sorry for the misunderstanding! I was afraid I was missing something or that I forgot one of my own character's names

👉🏻👈🏻

A headcanon for Dominick would be easier for me to write for- But because you said just Dominick I believe I could do for both Real and "Other" Dominick.

I think it would be more fun!

TW/Tags: in case any of you are confused [🖤🧵✂️] // this is basically just general headcanons // eh, the lore is wonky // feeling awful sorry // not as in-depth as I wish it was, sorry //

I suppose this is going to be just general headcanons, boo [Yandere!Coraline OCS x Reader - Headcanon]:

→❤️Real Dominick🌲:

A chill dude for the most part. Although containing some unresolved abandonment issues, he tries to act as nothing is bothering him for "the sake of others". At least that's what he tells himself every time.

Dominick tries his best to be a peacemaker amongst the group, but even he can't deny that this is a tiring job that doesn't end up being fruitful for most of the time.

Dominick is just as touch-starved as he is dependent on others, the thought of living on his own and not being able to at least see his loved ones for a long period of time drives him insane. He really wants to seem emotionally strong and confident, but deep down he is aware that one day he'll have to open up about how he really feels.

He has met Richard and Vivian a lot sooner than you did, but honestly he doesn't know how he has become their friends in the first place. He always felt very distant from them, granted that he met them at a time of need, when he felt vulnerable for having no friends to be with, but also because of how different their personalities were to each other.

Don't get him wrong, he really likes them, he really does! He just doesn't vibe with them as hard as he wishes he could, but he knows that it would be impossible considering how they were literally glued on each other- He knew about them dating or at least liking each other way before you came into the scene.

Or more accurately, you came BACK into the scene. How oddly coincidental, you know his friends but you don't know they're friends with him, or if you did, you just tried to ignore it to this day. Now that you two live together, it would be very hard to ignore your presence.

He thinks you want nothing to do with him, nothing at all- So if you ever actually try to be more friendly with him he won't really see it as a good thing- You had ignored him for twelve years, and suddenly you two are, well, here!

His mind keeps making him feel terrible about himself, keeps making feel odd and awkward about your relationship- Or lack thereof. You look so different but act like the same as what he used to know you for, so anxious and so awkward with everything and everyone but still trying their best to be social.

He changed so much in comparison, from a sickly frail little boy looking for someone to be his protective shield, to a man way too big for his own good- His appearance although being ideal to him, makes it harder for him to interact with others who find him frightening.

Real Dominick would take a lot longer to actually fall in love with you again, considering that his old crush on you has turned more into a scar instead of a good old memory, but when he reopens that wounds to receive new ones, I hope you'll be ready for a awkward gentle giant having a awkward crush on you, while also having a couple of breakdowns where he blames you for causing him to feel this way, how neat!

→🖤Other Dominick🧵 (Male Beldam):

Other Dominick true personality is as foreign to others as it is to himself, as he had forgotten who he was and where he came from a long time ago.

Dominick is 100% not his real name, but it's not like he remembers what he used to be called by originally, although two names seem to stand out amongst the others- Dominick and Ernest.

Being called Dominick is- Not exactly the best for him. It feels almost annoying, as if it was an annoying name, something he should never be called as. Ernest on the other hand, feels- Fitting, but extremely depressing. So as much as being called "Other Dominick" may be a very annoying name for him, being called Ernest feels like being stabbed in the gut, so it's kinda obvious which is the best in this situation.

He doesn't know why being called Ernest gives him so much anxiety, and he doesn't remember what significance this name could have to him and his past life. Other Dominick has used so many different faces and names, just to lure the naive and desperate to his deadly embrace, yet he can barely remember the name of the fools he had attracted to his fabricated lie.

Maybe you're just a recent case, a new "fool" that found their way into his house without permission, and by doing so he has all the right to trap you in his web- After all, you're the intruder here, right? Yet oddly enough, you don't really feel like the others who had come here, you have sparked interest in his empty heart.

He notices that the energy that comes from you is a lot more satisfying than the others, at least for now, you have been able to subconsciously feed him for a longer period than the others, and by doing so he is more willing to let you live for longer, at least until you start to not love him as much, or start to test his patience beyond his limit.

His true form looks nothing like the "Dominick" you so lovingly looks up to, he may be just as tall, but he is much more thinner than the original, his long arms reminding you more of a death trap than a warm embrace. Not that he won't be gentle with you, for now.

Oddly enough, he doesn't take much to fall for you as much as Dominick does- The loneliness that he is accustomed with is not exactly the healthiest lifestyle for himself, so don't be surprised if he is already mixing his own hunger for attention to his very real hunger for naive hearts like yours.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Hello everyone, is good to see y'all again.

I've been away because of school work and family issues, and I can't lie that it has gone a bit more crazier this last few days. I went through a breakup and I'm currently struggling with the aftereffects of it-

I'm really sorry for the long wait, and for always closing the inbox out of nowhere, but I'm afraid to say this will probably keep happening a lot, I still need to take care of so many things-

Anyway, is good to see y'all again!

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #sheep's stuff #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc headcanon #yandere headcanon #yandere coraline #yandere coraline au #yandere coraline x reader #yandere beldam #male beldam #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

[author-morgan]

Phobia ☤ Alexios

twelve - first do no harm

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

ZEUS UNLEASHES HIS wrath upon the morning sky in a flash of white light followed by the roaring crackle of thunder. In the wake of Zeus' anger, the Hyades beckon the assuaging pitter-patter of raindrops. The two somnolent travelers break and pack their small camp in the downpour.

They've ridden since daybreak through inclement weather and the approaching gates of Argos paired with slivers of blue sky are a welcome sight. They leave Phobos to rest at the gatehouse stables. "Follow me," Irene says, glancing over her shoulder. Finding Hippokrates' clinic would be easy even for a person who has never seen Argos before. All one had to do is follow those who were sick or injured.

Scores of sick and wounded -both soldiers and civilians- are waiting to be seen by Hippokrates. Others have no room in the main clinic and lay beneath tarpaulins, shielded from the wind and rain. Irene has never seen this many waiting patients before. Several novice healers tend to patients, but Hippokrates is not among them. Among the apprentices is Sostratos –he received his initial instruction under Theophilus in Athens with Irene before departing to seek greater knowledge.

A beldame is confronting Sostratos about something –her croaking voice is both hushed and raised. "Bitter old crone," Irene remarks as the Priestess of Hera leaves the clinic in haste, pushing past her and the Eagle Bearer.

The apprentice shifts his attention to Irene and Alexios, and his trepidatious expression fades, slipping back into a more aplomb composure. He maneuvers through the patients and greets Irene and her companion with a friendly smile. "Chrysis believes Hippokrates methods anger the gods and has accused him of impiety," he confides.

"We need to speak to him. Where is he?" Irene questions, looking around the crowded clinic.

"Near the Cave of Pan," Sostratos answers. Hippokrates had left several days ago to set up a clinic to treat those the Sanctuary of Asklepios had refused. Alexios and Irene exchange looks –they both know where they must go next. The princess thanks Sostratos and follows the Eagle Bearer back to the gatehouse stables.

ATOP A HILL to the southwest of the Heraion of Argos people are gathered before the entrance to one of Pan's caves. Alexios pulls back on Phobos' reins as they set up the winding road –passing a throng of weary travelers. "I thought they were exaggerating when they said people came from all over to see Hippokrates," he comments. Irene glances back at him and shakes her head. She has heard stories of people traveling from Egypt to seek out the famed physician's help.

The princess stops Alexios before he can interrupt the physician's description of the sacred disease and his proposed remedy. Hippokrates does not speak of the god's ill-will, but of impoverishment -proper meals and rest can help cure those not yet beyond his ability to save. A far cry from what the priests and priestesses would tell the sick. "Challenging traditions," Alexios notes, crossing his arms, "you must be Hippokrates."

"Yes," the physician answers, vexed by the interruption. "I am also very busy."

"We won't take you away from your patients for long," Irene amends.

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Hippokrates turns from his workstation, disbelief overtakes his consternation. "Irene!" He greets. She pushes forward the wrapped parcel from the Argos clinic and he accepts the supplies and tools with an appreciative nod. "What brings you here?" He inquires. The physician knows Irene is not here for sickness. She's perhaps the only person he has ever met that has never even caught a mild case of the sniffles. Their last encounter had been by chance, and he'd stitched a wound beneath her arm closed.

Irene glances over her shoulder at the Eagle Bearer. "Alexios seeks your help."

The physician glances at the misthios, eyes darting over him to find signs of illness or injury -he finds none. "He doesn't look unwell," Hippokrates notes, gaze lingering on the scars wrapping around his arm. "More like one of Phidias' sculptures come to life." Irene hides a faint smile, unable to keep her eyes from straying back to Alexios –it wouldn't be hard to believe he'd been carved from marble.

"I'm looking for a Spartan woman," Alexios explains. "My mother," he's quick to add, "she would have come to you a long time ago with an injured baby. I was told you may have helped her."

Hippokrates shakes his head and turns back to his workbench. His mind is burdened with the woes of his patients, and he cannot spare the time to recall every person who had ever sought his help. "Maybe the priests at the Sanctuary can help," he suggests, eager to return to his studies and patients, "they keep detailed records of all those who pass through."

The princess steps up next to Alexios, her hand brushing against his. "We've traveled a long way to find you, friend-"

"As do my patients," he interjects. "They need me." The physician sighs, leaning forward on the wobbling wooden table. "My notes were taken," he admits, turning back to look at the misthios. "If you retrieve them I will help you find what you seek." An Athenian commander had taken the notes –claiming his soldiers were more important than innocent civilians. Hippokrates could remember most of what he had written, but some finer details that slipped his busy mind.

Alexios leaves in search of the physician's notes in Fort Tiryns, but Irene elects to stay with the physician and his patients. "How can I help?" She inquires. Despite her prowess for violence, the princess has a natural affinity for the art of healing and medicine. Hippokrates will not let a spare set of practiced hands be wasted.

"I need a poultice for fever," he tells her, "if you wouldn't mind lending a hand." Irene smiles and goes to work, grinding white willow, elder and yarrow together with rose oil. Kneeling, Irene smooths a portion of the paste over a patient's forehead and lays a cut fig leaf over it. Next, she goes to the child the physician is tending, repeating the same process.

"The mercenary?" Hippokrates asks, curious to know why she was traveling with such unscrupulous company.

She glances down at the fevered girl –nose red and lips cracked. War and disease do not discriminate between the innocent and guilty. "I want to help him find his mother," the princess avows –just because she has no family does not mean others should face the same fate. Irene lays her hand on the girl's cheek and takes a deep breath. A heavy moment of silence passes and the girl's eyes open –a mix of sage and hazel. Her small hands are no longer clammy and the fever that had doomed her to an early grave recedes.

The physician sits back, astonished. "Are you Persephone?" The girl asks in a meek voice. Irene shakes her head and before she can speak a relieved mother is rushing to embrace her daughter. Irene rises and looks into her palms. Hippokrates follows her, filled with questions –though he supposes some are best left unanswered.

Alexios returns with another physician from the fort who claims to have memorized the notes before they were burned during the last battle. Their arrival comes too late for one man, but Hippokrates makes good on his promise. He tells Alexios about the night his mother came with a broken babe in her arms. He had still been young and such feats were beyond his experience. He had told Myrrine to seek help at the Sanctuary.

SHE GOES TO the temple while Alexios seeks out the priests –something innate is calling her there. The temple is void of worshippers and she strides toward the statue of Asklepios, passing plinths of ailing clay body parts and painted images of serpents. Irene approaches a twisted staff held up on a pedestal at the feet of the God of Medicine. It calls to her and though the voice in her head is that of a stranger's, there is something innately familiar about it –as though she has heard it before in dreams. Iron and bronze are cast to look like a crooked branch, a single silver snake curls around the top of the staff, its eyes piercing green jewels.

Her fingertips almost brush the relic when a priest comes to stand next to her. "The Staff of Asklepios," he interposes, and Irene quickly pulls her hand back. "Last wielded by a traitor," the priest vilifies, hands clasped behind his back.

The princess glances at the grey-haired priest –brows set in a deep furrow. "Apollonides of Kos." He speaks the name like a curse and the color seeps away from Irene's face. My father. "They say he is who taught Hippokrates before betraying Greece for Persia."

Her gaze shifts from the priest back to the staff. "What was Apollonides like?" Irene asks. It's the first time anyone has willingly mentioned his name and it fills her with hope.

"He was-" the old priest starts but then thinks twice about revealing anything, else Chrysis will have his tongue like Mydon. They've been ordered not to speak of the traitor or to any eagle-bearing mercenaries and their accomplices. "I don't know," he says too quickly and harshly for the words to be true. Hope slips through her fingers and her heart drops to her stomach. "I never met him," the priest lies, absconding from the temple.

Dejected and alone once more, Irene steps up to the relic and wraps her hand around the staff –all initial hesitancy gone. The emerald eyes of the serpent begin to glow and a surge of power and pain wash over her –flooding her veins as a tidal wave of white heat. Irene.

Strange markings illuminate the back of her hands, creeping up her arms in smooth arcs and lines. It is yours, the voice whispers, take it. She relinquishes the staff with a sharp cry and stumbles before collapsing to the white marble floor, shaking. The markings fade as quickly as they appeared and emerald serpentine eyes still look down upon her, though the light in them begins fading.

Alexios finds her on the floor in the temple, clearly perturbed. He kneels next to her and lays his hand on her shoulder. There's a distant, empty look in her eyes. "Are you all right?" Irene glances at him and nods –an unconvincing gesture. "We should leave quickly," he breathes, helping her to stand. Only then does she notice the blood on his bracers and hands –none of it his own.

#Alexios #Alexios x OC #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Phobia #my writing

[e7y1]

Taken: Freedom

(Basically a part 2 to ‘Taken: Gnome’

Warning for eye horror and... you know how the Beldam tries to eat people?)

https://e7y1.tumblr.com/post/184543068641/taken-wirt

Gnome heard the house groan and he knew the mirror would be open. He reached his hand out to feel the warmth of the new house. 

He doesn’t know how long he has been in this room for but he knew he at one point had to ditch his shoes because they hurt too much. 

He has been wanting to be free. Wanting to see the… something. He didn’t remember all too much about his own home but he knew he wanted to go see it. 

So, he planned on escaping.

He knew that his Other mother would be busy with the new kid and so that would be his best time to escape. 

He had to make sure he didn’t wait too long this time either.

If he waits too long, he would have to wait for the next kid. 

Gnome looked to the other kids and gave a small wave before slipping outside the mirror.

Gnome felt his bare feet step on soft carpet and he looked around taking in all the colors. Everything was so much brighter and warmer and he just had to take it all in for- no wait, he had to find the exit. 

Gnome took a breath and crept around the house while trying to be as quiet as he could. He could hear mother in the kitchen cooking something that smelled so good that he wanted to taste so badly but he knew mother would be mad if she found him. 

He didn’t like making mother mad.

Mother is terrifying when she is mad.

He looked around for the door until he finally found it by the entryway under the stairs. He smiled slightly as he inched towards it, trying not to draw attention to himself for the kitchen was right in sight of the door.

He came so close when suddenly the door started to open from the other side. Gnome quickly looked around before ducking into the nook the front door was in. 

“Hello?”

Gnome peeked around the corner to see a little boy with an oddly triangular shaped head with a mess of red hair. He had a white shirt and blue overalls and the biggest eyes filled with curiosity and confusion. 

The other mother came out from the kitchen with short red hair pulled back in a headband and looked at the little kid with her big black button eyes. She wore a simple yellow shirt with white sleeves and brown capri pants. She smiled down at the young boy with her sweet smile that made Gnome feel jealous for a moment but he quickly shook his head. He had to focus.

“Hello dear. I’m so glad you finally came.”

“Who are you?”

“Why dear, I am your Other mother.”

“I have two mothers?”

“Of course, every child has them.” The Other mother looked over for just a second but that was all she needed. 

She saw Gnome.

She kept her smile up but now it was forced. “Now dear, how about you go eat, I have to deal with something outside real quick.”

The small boy nodded and ran off to go eat.

Gnome gulped and tried to run but the Other mother was too fast. In a matter of moments she crossed the entryway and grabbed Gnome’s shirt. 

She dragged the child outside and dropped him in the driveway. “Dearie, what are you doing out of your room?” She spoke with such venom in her fake voice that if it was a bite, Gnome would be dead.

Gnome sat there in the driveway looking up at mother. “I-I wanted to, to see you mother. I-I’m sorry for what I, I have said.”

She tilted her head at him curiously. “And you chose today? The day that you know I spend a lot of time with my new sweet child?”

“I-I’m sorry…” 

She furrowed her eyebrows. “You should be you selfish brat.”

“I, I-”

“You just want all of my attention for yourself do you not?”

“No I-”

“You really shouldn’t have come out but you know what? I might as well do something with you now.”

Gnome’s eyebrows raised hopefully. “R-really?”

She nodded. “Yes. Now, come here sweetie. It would make it much easier for mother.”

Gnome nodded and got up coming over to her timidly.

“There we go sweetie. Now stay still…” The other mother’s body slowly morphed into her normal, spidery, cracked form and she quickly went to grab Gnome but he panicked and backed away. 

“Wh-what are you doing mother?”

“Why sweetie, I am just wanting to help you.”

“H-how?”

The Other mother crept closer to him with an air of hunger. “I just want to relieve you of your misery. You feel ashamed right? Guilty? Upset? I can stop that now. You just have to let me deal with it.”

If button eyes could widen in fear, they would be a whole new size. “H-how?”

The Other mother sighed heavily. “Must you always question your mother? That makes me very upset sweetie.”

Gnome hesitantly stepped backwards. “I-I’m s-sorry. I, I just w-want to know.”

Before she could say anything more the two heard a scream from inside. They looked to see the triangular boy to be staring at them wide eyed before running. 

They heard a door slam near the entrance. 

They were still for a moment before she turned to Gnome enraged. “You! You just made my child run! You made me lose a new meal!”

“M-meal…”

“Yes you stupid brat! I won’t be having a good meal in a long time now so I guess I’ll have to settle with just you!”

Gnome stood there petrified for a moment before the Other mother lunged. That’s when Gnome found the sense to move. 

He ran. 

He ran as fast as his legs could take him and he ran inside, slamming the door behind him. 

Before Gnome got halfway to the tunnel the front door swung open hard and slammed against the wall. 

He didn’t look back though as he went to crawl into the tunnel. He went as fast as he could but the inside looked dark and gray with old toys and cobwebs everywhere. 

He could hear his mother yelling at him to come back. He heard his mother though, not whatever the other kid’s was. She sounded like she was pleading and sad. 

She was begging for Gnome to come back. 

She was saying she’d die if he didn’t come back.

Gnome willed himself to keep going. 

If he stalled he’d die but, she was sad… He shook his head and made it out just as an inhuman scream echoed through the tunnel.

The Other mother was crawling through at inhuman speeds but Gnome quickly closed the door and pressed his body against it as he heard thuds from the Other mother trying to free herself.

Gnome quickly scanned the room for the key and luckily the little button key was in reach and thus, he locked his mother in. 

He relaxed and looked up to see a little boy staring back at him with wide eyes, looking like he might cry. 

Gnome watched him for a moment before giving a small smile. “Y-you’re s-safe now okay? J-just, don’t use the, the key.”

The little boy slowly nodded his head. 

“...I-I’m going to go now. S-sorry for scaring you.” 

The boy nodded and pointed to the front door.

Button nodded and stepped outside to see… something round and white in the sky.

It was really pretty actually. (So, this is basically an au of Whitelightning999′s Button kids au which I really recommend reading! Thank you so much for reading this! https://whitelightning9999.tumblr.com/post/178767054602/button-kids-part-1 ^Link to her story)

#fics #My writing #au #wirt #wirt over the garden wall #over the garden wall #beldam #coraline #button kids #Whitelightning999 #mystery kids #part 2 #phineas and ferb #phineas #yes that was totally phineas I just needed a kid and house okay???

[paradoxrealm]

A Return Worth Waiting For...~

...Yet you do distinctly remember there being a black cat at one point in time. I'm not trying to drive you mad, Moon. That's the thing, you should've passed whatever grace period there is so now you should be able to regain the lost memories to fill in the gaps. Mikearu doesn't know this, but I went through a similar situation with my memories after the second Reality Check. I knew that we were married, but I couldn't remember anything about the wedding day itself at all. I couldn't even find my and Mikearu's wedding photos for a while because they were from when we were still Spirits... So the Reality Check took them before I saw them too soon...

...I think... that's why the doll, the painting, and the scarf are all gone... ...They're memory triggers... ...major ones... ...But I was eventually able to get the wedding photos back. I earned them back. So maybe we can do the same with your mementos.

She chose to ignore the unfriendly smile and the glare that bore right through her, instead turning back towards the Beldam as she stopped in her pacing.

...You know you have fonder memories of me, Moon. Memories where you didn't see me as prey at all. But those memories are either gone, or hazy like last night's dream. But I think you're already beginning to fill in the pieces. Such as my comments earlier, where I mentioned I was a wife and mother? You remember me mentioning it before, don't you?

A defeated sigh escaped her, the grown dimension-hopper finally seeming to deflate slightly as the topic dragged on.

She was having a harder time drilling this into Moon's thick skull than she thought she would...

Moon, the whole reason I'm telling you this is because if you don't fill in the blanks then there will be entire chunks of your life that you won't remember because the change was so drastic. I don't want you to forget about me... Because when I leave, I still want to come back and visit you again. But I can't do that if I've lost my friend... Please, you have to let me help you get those memories back... You have to remember, Button Dad...

...Now she was beginning to look like that young girl again, the Beldam watching as the glow in her starlight buttons dimmed and the color dulled slightly. And he could feel the deja vu just looking at the pain in her face... ...She may have grown, but in her heart she still feels like that wayward little girl, still struggling with the loss of the friends and family she makes as she wanders the universe...

...Walking back over to the garden wall she carefully scooped up her teacup, leaning back against the wall as she now stood beside Moon, taking a sip of her cleansed tea. Thankfully it was still warm.

...Moon, you know that I wouldn't tell you something like this without fully knowing what I'm doing. ...I want to help you through this. ...But I can't do that if you don't let me... ...I trusted you enough to put my damn soul back together, now I need you to trust me to put your mind back together, Moonjumper.

——————

He was quiet for a long time, the only real sign he was listening was the occasional twitch at the mention of things that should be familiar.

He wasn’t looking at her as she moved to stand by him, more looking at the ice- but there was still the distinct feeling of eyes on her.

He contemplated how well he might be able to walk on the ice with more needle-like limbs. Maybe he could simply stab his legs into it to ground himself.

“…… Hypothetically speaking, let’s say I care about what you’re saying.” His tone was even, betraying nothing as he spoke. “What would you suggest we do about it?” He turned slightly to stare at her, gaze shifting slightly between her and her cup.

#submission #mans probably can't even step in a puddle without eating it dabfafbafba #also heehoo reviving old nicknames from the dead #call me the Necrodancer cause I'm makin moves and revivin the dead sgksjfsks #ic #coraline au #a return worth waiting for #I forgot about button dad sjsjsjjjsjsks

[m-602]

The Demon Gang

((I finally found some motivation to write!))

((For context, three of the characters over in the Chaos Gang have super-demon forms that could lead to mass destruction if unleashed... I got the idea for a Demon Alternate Timeline where everyone, including those three, turn into demons and... Well, here we are!))

((Warning! There’s some swearing in here. Slight body horror and violence, too. Nothing too major, surprisingly...))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A quiet day. That’s the most one could ask when literally every other day involves them fighting for their lives, escaping some death trap, or dealing with some sort of emotional turmoil. Just a single day where nothing goes wrong would be a godsend to these people…

And for the most part, that’s exactly what the Gang was having… The morning was “normal” enough. Mikearu had another nightmare - with his arm subsequently combusting and staying that way - and Panda tried destroying the couch for some reason, but other than those exceptions, everything was going smoothly. Those who required food had their fill and everyone was enjoying the momentary peace and quiet…

…

As Astel always says, “never expect a normal day with us.” Or something amongst those lines…

Shadow visiting the house wasn’t exactly strange. It was how they did it that was unusual…

It was… entirely normal… They walked out from the… well, shadows with no unique flair. Nothing stupid. Nothing over-the-top. They just… entered. And it immediately caught Kitty’s attention.

Kitty: “Shadow? What’s up with you?”

Shadow: “Oh nothing much. Managing the demons, paid a visit to Beldam, all Hell’s breaking loose outside-”

K: “Wait. Hold up. What was that last part?”

Sh: “...All Hell’s breaking loose outside…”

Panda: “...So? That’s not exactly our problem.”

Sh: “No. I mean that in the most literal sense.”

Everyone else: “What?!”

The voidling directed their attention outside… Upon closer inspection, Shadow’s statement was not entirely inaccurate. Judging by the hellish creatures and the portals they’re walking through, rampant flames, red tinted sky, and overall chaos, Hell was, indeed, breaking loose into their world.

Astel and Eclipse: “...Well fuck…”

You know a situation’s bad when both the light and shadow are saying that…

Mikearu: “...How in the world did this happen?!”

Sh: “Not important.~ Right now, I’m in the middle of containing it… Help out if you want. Just don’t get in my way or get yourselves killed…

The voidling disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving the gang with that shocking bit of news… Hell, quite literally, was breaking loose outside and the world is being ravaged by it…

…

Mikearu and Astel were already out the door.

Reaper: “Wha-? No way in hell are those two going alone!”

Reaper was next up, dashing out the door and rushing over to the action…

P: “Ugh… Fucking morons.”

The feral child grabbed her favorite rifle and went to join her “friends”... For some reason, Silver had popped in from the ceiling… 

Silver: “Oooh! What’s happening outside? Is it a new game? I wanna play!”

And the clueless child was already running out the door…

K: “...Fuck it.”

The shapeshifter begrudgingly joined her friends outside…

...Well… Things definitely look worse than they did from the brief glance they got from the house… They got halfway to the city before they saw where all these demons were coming from - large holes in the ground, completely with sets of sharp, jagged teeth…

Astel: “...Hellmouths…”

M: “Portals to Hell, correct? We just gotta close them up, right?”

A strange feeling was overcoming the Gang… No one really seemed to pay it much mind though.

The Gang finally reach the meat of the action… Grim, Venatrix, and Shadow were already there, trying to keep demons away from the path to the city…

Grim: “Where the fuck have you been?! We could use some help here!”

Venatrix: “I can go check on the city proper. Mind actually dealing with these things?!

P: “Why not just let the city burn?”

V: “Not now, brat!”

A spike of ice killing a demon behind her immediately brings them out of the mini-argument. Astel has shifted into The Twilight Queen to better combat the literal hell-raisers.

A + E: “Shut up. We have more pressing concerns.”

V: “...R-Right. I’ll be off!”

Firing a few ethereal shots into the demonic horde, the huntress runs off before warping away, likely to help protect any innocent people. Panda shoots a flying demon to the ground.

P: “She should really just let them die…”

M: “Not now, Panda…”

Mikearu shifts into his “Assassin” form, utilizing his smaller stature and increased speed to weave around some of the beasts. He drives his knife through a demon’s head before leaping off of it, sending a massive lightning bolt at its partner. Shadow watches from a distance… 

Sh: “Well you certainly know how to hold your own… I don’t care what you do - just make sure to close up those holes…”

Void tendrils grab onto about three beasts at once, bashing them together until they stop moving before they retreat into the ground…

R: “And how do we do that? Just destroy them or something?”

Sh: “Basically.”

G: “Works for me.~”

Using her strings, she wraps up an incoming demon, sucking some strength from it as it was sliced up by her ringblade… Reaper, deciding not to just sit around, melted into the shadows, re-manifesting right behind an unfortunate demon. With a single slice of her scythe, the demon was ripped in two… Panda managed to shoot down a demon that was sneaking up on her while she was distracted.

P: “Pay attention!”

Now… You might think that Silver and Kitty aren’t participating…

...Well, for Kitty, yes that’s the case. She decided to shift into a bird amidst all the chaos and get a bird’s-eye view of the carnage. It never hurts to have a front row seat.~

Silver, meanwhile, was trying to have a conversation with a particularly violent demon.

S: “So whatcha here for?”

It tries to attack, only for Silver to literally bounce away from the hit.

S: “Hey! Rude!”

Shadow cuts the demon down, utterly confused as to how Silver’s even alive right now… And then they remember that it’s Silver. She gets away with more things than she really should.

...Other than that, the Gang continues trying to fend off the hellish beasts… After probably three minutes of fighting, they finally get close to a hellmouth…

A: “Come on!”

She drives her sword into the back of the mouth… It causes it to shudder, eventually closing and receding into the ground…

Sh: “Yep! Just keep doing that!”

Another mouth is blown to bits by Mikearu. Another is ripped apart by Grim. Another is burnt away by Reaper… Silver just closes one and it goes away, much to everyone's confusion…

…?!

After closing a few of the hellish gates, the ground started to rumble with thundering footsteps. An ominous feeling of dread washed over the “heroic” combatants as the footsteps seemed to come closer and closer… They look in the direction of the sound, only to find a massive hellmouth, slightly larger than the house they all live in, down the path.

A + E: “What… the fuck…?”

...The footsteps finally reached them, revealing the towering figure they belonged to… It was a massive, powerful demon donning coal black armor and a spiked scepter in its right claw. It’s head looked like a deer’s skull, completely engulfed in a raging fire.

Sh: “Oh look! A high class demon!”

M and Ikearu: “That explains a few things…”

It slams its scepter into the ground, sending a wave of earth towards the Gang, which they manage to avoid despite the shock.

M: “Wha’ do we do?! Drive i’ into the hellmouth behind i’?”

Sh: “That’s the plan!”

Panda is already trying to shoot it in the head, only for the bullets to bounce off the skull… despite it being a skull…

P: “Grr… Just die!”

It went to charge after her, only for a unsurprisingly angry Reaper to tackle it, forcing it backwards.

R: “Hands off my kitten.”

P: “...Right…”

The demon stumbles back, eventually regaining its footing. It holds the scepter high, magic gathering around the spiked tip. As that happens, a magic aura gathers around Reaper, slowly raising her in the air before a blue fireball slams into the demon’s chest, forcing it to drop Reaper to the ground…

M + I: “Hands off my child.”

R: “...”

After shaking off her blush, she stands up to confront the demon again. It sends spell after spell, projectile after projectile, trying to keep the Gang at bay. Icicles pelt it, lightning pesters it, bullets annoy it, and strings restrain it as a void tendril starts knocking it towards the hellmouth it came from.

G: “All yours!”

With a nod, the voidling, using a rather large tendril, knocks the demon in the hellmouth as another tendril goes to impale the hellish gate. Before it could, though, an aura of magic overtakes the scepter as the demon swings it forth. A wave of magic overtakes the gang as light blinds their sight, the hellmouth shriveling up before it sinks into the earth…

…

Sh: “...Shit...”

…

After what felt like forever, Mikearu manages to regain his sense of sight, shaking his head at the headache he has… What the hell was that? And why did his whole body ache?

…

He brings a fiery left hand to his hea- Wait?

FIERY?!

M: [“W-What the hell?!”]

Even his voice didn’t sound the same. It sounded more like he was projecting it instead of actually speaking it… What the…?

What the hell did that thing do?!

A: “Holy shit… M?!”

He snapped his head to Astel, immediately noticing her change in appearance… It… looked kinda like her nightmare form… But her armor had a different look to it. A shimmery, midnight blue with black accents. Now that he had a good look at her, he noticed the two pairs of wings on her back… Two angel wings - one pure white, one burgundy black - and two demon-like bat wings - one coal black, one black and red… Her eyes were a fiery orange, with red swirls in the left and gold swirls in the right… He recognized this form instantly… The Midnight Queen…

M: [“Astel?! What happened to you?!”]

A: “That’s what I was about to ask you!”

M: [“I was hoping you’d know! I don’t have a clue, either!”]

He picked himself off the ground, noticing that he was actually floating in midair… Wait a minute… It can’t be… 

A ghost-like tail… A form similar to his child state (only bigger)… Fiendish claws…

…?! Demon horns and fox ears…

...The True Fiend…

M: [“Wh-What the-? I’m a Fiend! The True Fiend! B-But… How am I…?”]

Sh: “Blame that high class demon…”

Both Astel and M look to the voidling…

A: “What exactly… did that thing do to us?”

Sh: “Hm… Well, from what I can tell, it turned you into demons with a forbidden spell… But it’s not like I’m a Demon Lord who’s some sort of expert on this kind of stuff…”

M: [“...Can you tone down the sarcasm for five minutes?”]

The voidling just shrugs, a smug smile on their face.

K: “Mer… What happened? Something just knocked me out of the sky…”

A: “Uh… Kitty…”

K: “...What happened to you guys? And why are you looking at me like I have three heads?”

M: [“Well, you don’t… But…”]

The demon wings coming out of her back were easy enough to see… Kitty opened her eyes…

...Her crimson red, hollow eyes…

K: “Well? What is it?”

A: “I think it’s better if you saw for yourself…”

Gathering magic, she creates a crystalline wall in front of Kitty. It acts as a mirror, allowing Kitty to see the changes she went through…

K: “...”

K: “Well fuck…”

M: [“It got all of us? Wait… Where’s the others?”]

R: “N-No… This… can’t be happening…”

The voice belonged to… a formless, massless shadow where Reaper used to be… It was heavily disfigured in more ways than you could imagine - multiple thin arms, multiple wings, eyes fucking everywhere… It looked… familiar…

...The Eldritch…

Sh: “Oh… A voidling rip off… Cool…”

R: “That’s… not funny, Shadow…”

M: [“...R-Reaper?”]

The massless shadow seems to look up at the Fiend…

R: “M… That’s you, right? ...H-How are we…?”

M: [“...That demon. That’s the only explanation our local Demon Lord has decided to give us…”]

He shoots a glare Shadow’s way as he says that. They just smirk.

G: “Well that explains something…”

That voice belonged to… a mass somehow more unstable than Reaper… It barely had a form, and whereas Reaper had a slight blue haze around her, this one seemed to glitch spastically and randomly… 

G: “Pretty sure me and Reaper would barely be sane if this was natural…”

R: “With some… exceptions… I feel fine…”

P: “Ngh… Speak for yourself… My head is fucking killing me…”

Panda was stumbling towards them, looking relatively unchanged… Except for the arrow tail, demon horns, and wings…

P: “And before you say anything… I’m well aware of what’s happened to me… It’s so easy, even a moron like me can figure it out…”

Sh: “Well… You’re still a moron…”

And thus, Panda flipped them the bird… They couldn’t care less…

A: “Well… That’s almost everyone, but… Where’s-?”

S: “Woah! You guys look awesome!”

...The chaotic little toon girl was not even scratched by whatever did this to them… Typical Silver…

M: [“...How did you…?”]

S: “...How did I what?”

M: [“...Nevermind…”]

S: “Okay… Oh! Right! I managed to get one of those mouth things and put it in my backpack! It’s really cool!”

Sh: “Wait. Run that by me again?”

A: “...You pocketed a fucking HELLMOUTH?!”

S: “Yeah! I even gave it a little radio dial…”

She then started rummaging through her bag…

S: “I wonder what would happen if I-”

And then ‘poof’! She was gone…

R: “Silver?!”

K: “Welp. There she goes.”

P: “...She’ll be back.”

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly at this stage), no one denies this…

…?!

Ah. Right. They can’t have a moment of calm without two ethereal bullets nearly hitting M, Astel, and Reaper.

A + E: ~ “What the fuck?!” ~

R: “Who the fuck?!”

M + I: [“Who else?!”]

They turn to find Venatrix… Aiming her gun at them… Utterly shaking in fear…

...Ah. Right. They’re kinda super-demons now…

V: “Wh-What the fuck… What the hell happened?! Answer me b-before I b-blow your heads off!”

She looks too scared to even get off a decent shot… Empty threats it seems…

Gotta love confused panic… 

Sh: “Calm down, moron… They’re still your friends… They’re just more demonic now.”

The Midnight Queen has flipped Venatrix the bird for nearly shooting her head off… Yep… Exactly what a regal lady would do… 

V: “W-Well… That just leads to a whole ‘nother issue…”

M + I: [“And that is?”]

V: “The fact that a group of demon hunters from all over everywhere is on their way over here.”

Everyone Else: “Wait, what?”

M, using his status as a fire Fiend, floats up a little to get a better view… 

...True to Venatrix’s word, a literal army was headed their way, with an assortment of weaponry that M barely even recognizes…

And one of those weapons nearly hit M dead on.

M: [“Holy shit!”]

A: “God damnit!”

P: “Damned ants…”

Being Panda, she decided to pick her rifle back up and start returning fire… With flaming bullets…

P: “Oooh.~ I like this.~”

Everyone else just facepalms…

G: “Can’t we just kill them?~”

Sh: “I like that plan!”

M: [“No! Because those weapons are made to fight demons…”]

K: “...I’m running if you are!”

The shapeshifter turned devil creature immediately bolted… Venatrix immediately followed suit.

P: “Wha-? Cowards!”

A wall of extremely hot electric flame separates them from the horde of probably malicious hunters.

P: “Holy-”

A: “Just go.”

P: “Wha-”

Aaand the Midnight Queen has picked up the homicidal imp with a rifle. Lovely.

Meanwhile, both Eldritch are warping the environment to try and help slow down the hunters as they retreat with their allies… After probably three whole minutes of doing this, they manage to make it to the house…

K: “...Well this sucks.”

P: “Grr… Let me down.”

The Queen does so… with a smirk.~

P: “Hng… Don’t do that again…”

Sh: “Wow… You guys have no idea how to demon, do you?”

The four super-demons proceed to glare at them menacingly…

Sh: “...I don’t know how to take that response.”

M: [“This body is the only thing I’m uncomfortable with… And the fact that I’m a Fiend…”]

Everyone, including M, is just going to keep silent about how he was part Fiend anyway…

A: “It’s not like I haven’t been a demon before… Just not a super demon…”

R: “And me and Grim were part Eldritch before, so…”

V: “Speaking of which… Can’t you guys… um…”

G: “...Tch… Rude…”

R: “...Well… It wouldn’t hurt…”

G: “...Whatever…”

Both Eldritch seem to shift and change, the shadows that make up their bodies moving to their will… They shrink a little, to the size they were at before. Some of the arms fade away, some of the wings return to the body, and some of the eyes seem to blink away… When the form change was finished, they both looked like they normally did… with some key differences. A shadowy appearance, with respective outlines (blue for Reaper, green for Grim) was immediately apparent… Upon closer inspection, both of them seem to have four eyes, arms, and wings, along with henna tattoos - Reaper’s on her main right hand, Grim’s on her back - to indicate their status as Eldritch…

G: “There. Better?”

Venatrix just nods…

K: “So… We’re demons now? What, do we have to live in Hell now?”

Sh: “Hm… With the state Hell is in right now, I can afford to leave you guys be. Especially since you’re either not supposed to be demons or were already part demon to begin with. Right now, just don’t get killed or something.”

S: “Besides! Hell ain’t got nothing on the places I just visited!”

Sh: “?!”

The origin of the voice, a spectral Silver floating in the middle of the living room, made itself known.

M: [“Silver?! What happened to you?!”]

S: “I went to an afterlife! You can’t really be alive for those places. So I’m a ghost now!”

She does a few flips in midair… rather flimsily…

S: “Isn’t it cool?”

A: “Erm… Kinda? You’re sort of dead now, though…”

Silver just crosses her arms, pouting.

S: “Does that matter? I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

R: “...I mean… Yeah…”

S: “Well… It was nice visiting, but there are other afterlives I want to visit!”

P: “...Can I go with you?”

She was already fading away by the time Panda asked… Aaaand ‘poof’. No more Silver.

P: “Fuck.”

…

M: [“...So this is our life now, huh?”]

A: “Hoo boy… These wings are going to be a real pain to sleep in.”

G: “You can’t just make them go away?”

A: “No. I can’t.”

K: “Wait. I can’t make mine go away, either. God damnit.”

P: “Sucks to be you, Sonic.exe.”

Astel just snickers… M shakes his head…

Sh: “...I’ve got my work cut out for me…”

Yes you do, Shadow. Yes you do.

#story #the chaos gang #tw slight violence #tw slight body horror #tw swearing

[anangelcalledinquisitor]

Divine’s Return, Pt 1

for @thewordsmithofhell and @luznerina .  Part 2 is shortly incominng--sorry for the angst (not sorry).

The Lady Divine lay upon her cot, barely conscious as the warm desert air ruffled hair and scales and feathers alike.  She could walk short distances—She had insisted on getting into the cart herself, though all present members of Tabernam Ardet stood hovering around in case she stumbled—but as soon as the cart had started the journey to the castle, she had carefully arranged herself to half lie on her stomach, legs turned to the side as she tried to keep pressure off cracked bones.  The journey was much slower than their usual carriage ride, and the couple of hours to get back was plenty long enough to contemplate everything that had happened, the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air as the others seemed to slowly be processing their own levels of shock.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to sidestep their questions for too long.  When she got sick getting off the boat, she thought Dia was going to tear the pirates carrying her limb from limb before she’d distracted her by sending her for some herbs with a pouch of gold.  Dia didn’t so much as leave her sight, simply going to the closest little stall carrying what she needed and bringing it back, but it was enough to let Divine compose herself and let the pirates get back aboard the Star.

No, she was going to have a nasty and unpleasant conversation with them all sooner or later.  Not that she would be nasty about it, of course.  It was just an unpleasant conversation that she’d been trying to avoid for some time.

How do you explain to people that you hired that you didn’t think they could handle what you were getting into?  How do you tell the person that thinks you veritably walk on water that you had known the danger was coming and that’s why you sent them away?

How do you explain disappearing and turning up pregnant without it seeming like some contrived story for the courts’ entertainment?

She wanted to cry. Almost did more than once, murmuring that it was just the jostling, her broken arm banging against the cot’s supports as she tried to get comfortable.  Surrounded by some of the people she trusted most, and she couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

Mim had probably figured it out.  But Mim had been the one that approached her and asked if she needed anything, and she knew she was better getting the things she needed in the undersea city and transporting it home herself.  Might as well do it now, before she lost everything.  She wanted to put a hand to her stomach, but she didn’t want to draw the attention to it either.  If she lost her home, lost her friends, lost the man she loved because of this, at least she would have more than her mother’d had—a beautifully carved rocking cradle, a rocking chair, and a little rattle.  It frightened her to think about, that in a couple of short hours, so much was going to change, but she knew there was no avoiding this.

Just like there’d been no avoiding when, almost three weeks ago, she had that dread feeling sitting in her stomach and she just knew.  She knew Eight was coming, knew that he was close, he was lurking beyond the edges of the wards and biding his time.  She knew she had to get the others away because no way in the world were they about to let it happen.

She wouldn’t say she invented a reason for them to go.  She’d known where the seal was for ages, but it was in a protected territory, and she’d been working to get them clearance for some time.  But when she felt the first crack of the wards, the flash of visions making her collapse with convulsions, she knew she didn’t have time to waste.  So they were briefed, outfitted, and quickly sent on their way.  Once they were gone, she held tight to Percy, watching the others go as she rocked the baby she’d come to call her son.  He cooed up at her and she felt the tears fall before she could stop them.  Suke saw, and they practically became glued to her side.  They weren’t stupid, unfortunately, no matter what the others had said with their good-natured ribbing.  They knew something was wrong, even as Divine had quietly vowed to spend as much time with him as she could, just in case.

When a couple of days had passed and nothing had changed, she thought maybe she had been wrong, and had decided to go for a walk with Percy, who was happily babbling to her, pointing to the flowers in the garden as she named them and he repeated them, though with added or missing syllables and letters.  Nightshade gave him trouble, though he liked the smell of the roses, and the mums confused him as he stuck his head in the rounded bush and shouted “Mummy!” at the top of his lungs, making her laugh before terror made her breath caught, feeling the tear in the wards almost instantly.  She only had a moment to act, turning to Suke and handing a squealing Percy over and telling him to go to Vaughn, now.  He only hesitated a moment, but turned and dashed into the house.  She wasn’t armored and she didn’t have time to change that—she would just have to deal with this herself.  After all, she’d gone up against and took down two Beldams—what’s the worst that could happen?

The worst that could happen was, as she was wrestling with Eight, and she was fighting to keep the upper hand, Dia’s sending spell came through.  It took everything Divine had in her to keep silent, but Eight had whipped around and sunk his teeth into shoulder, and she couldn’t help the panicked, painful scream that tore through her.  She tried tell Dia she was fine, but the spell was already gone, taking her scream as reply, and she had no hope to send a message of her own, her spell slots already depleted, tears streaming down her face as she struggled.

He grew tired of the fight very quickly, hand tightening around her throat and pinning her to the ground of the old forest.  She didn’t remember how many portals she’d jumped through, trying to lose him, but as soon as she saw the huge, gnarled tree looming above her, its dark leaves slick with evening mist, she knew she hadn’t escaped anything.  And then there she was, legs kicking even as his heavy weight kept her pinned.  The world was growing dim as she stared defiantly up at him, the moon rising to cast an eerie sort of halo as he purred her name…

She didn’t know quite what to do when she came to.  Her lip was split, and she could feel the bites and bruises and…  everything else.  She lay there, discarded at the roots of the tree and she felt overwhelmed.  Staring up at the moon that still hung full and heavy overhead, she cried silent tears.  When she heard Dia’s latest sending, she stayed resolutely silent, because she knew she would waste her twenty-five words sobbing. She felt the time to respond lapse and let herself stay quiet for another ten minutes or so before she started to take stock.

One boot was gone.  She’d lost that back at the castle.  Her skirts were nothing more than shreds now, the buttons of her bodice slashed.  Jacket gone, she noticed belatedly as a chill wind made her shiver.  Plenty of pain—bites and scratches abound, split lip, bloody nose…  She managed a bit of prestidigitation to clean up what remained of her underclothes, sighing as she realized she had no weapon, that her skirts were more rags than anything and just weighed her down.  She was glad for the mending cantrip at least worked on her smallclothes, since she didn’t fancy pulling a Lady Godiva to get back.  And while her wings worked, she was drained, so she wouldn’t be making any flights any time soon.

She had been grateful for only suffering some exhaustion, though it did make the travel back very difficult since she couldn’t rest easily long enough to regain her spells, and it was dangerous to linger here for too long. She came upon the old trail easily enough, her legs carrying her slowly along it, aching with each step.

A while into her travels, she felt the sight on her, looking up to see the strange pale blue eye of the Orb of Seeing peering down at her.  Not knowing who might all be watching, she made a signal—if Priv was watching, or Kurai, they would know the sign for danger.  She tried to explain as best she could, explaining the danger of Eight, that she was safe and not to worry, and then, a moment…  She reached up, drawing a line from the middle of her bottom lip over her chin, in a mimicry of Dia’s tattoo.  The sending came a minute later, and she carefully measured her response.

“Alive.  Hurt,” she admitted, still squarely looking at the floating orb, “but fine.  Protect the others.  I will be home soon.”  Her voice carried the grave weight of prophecy as she added, “You need to get that seal and help Jabu Jabu.  Be safe.”

With a final movement, she lifted a hand, casting a quick spell to pop the bubble, and the orb vanished.  She apologized mentally to whoever was on the other end of that, since they would be on the receiving end of a bad headache, but it had to be done…

Also because she didn’t want them to be privy to her moment of nausea.

#my writing #Divine #Anura #Divine/Anura #angst #in between #Eight #tw: noncon #tw: violence #tw: assault #original characters

[mr-puff-ball]

-The Cult of Grosse- (Complete Idea) part: 2

Because we must, there are some movies that are relevant to my game and how it is. One such movie is the classic stop motion based film called Coraline, extracted off of a book of the same name. Starting off as a film where a young girl is neglected by her parents and finds solace in a beldam, who, later on, tries to force her to become like them, perfect, what is an impossibility as seen in the beldam’s spider like form, hidden by her perceptions. I was inspired by the split in the world presented by the film, where one looked deprecated and gloomy while the other is bright and colourful, however, the looks are a lie and they learn that their less than perfect world is the best one for them. I wanted to implement something similar into my game, with our main character, agent Cole Gates, to think the cult of Grosse as disgusting and wrong, only to realise later on that he, himself, is part of something as ugly. 

Soundtracks are a hard thing, they are one of the most important parts of a game and they are a completely passive to the gameplay experience, however I have an idea to what i would like it to be similar to. My favourite musical artist has to be Neil Cicierega, (AKA Lemon Demon) with his unique and interesting music that has entranced my feeble mind, so much so, I would love to try and emulate his style, not so much of his modern music, but of his older music when he still went by the dame Trapazoid what later changed to Deportitaz. When under this name, near all of his music was all without vocals, rather using only digital sounds for musical instruments and sometimes audio bytes. There is older stuff by Neil done in the MIDI style of music, however, when trying to look for it I found none of this work, what is sad as some songs were reused, such as Everybody Loves Raymond. This old music would be a match made in heaven for my game if they were tweaked to its theme, but, for the final music track, I would want a personal made song that goes against its Ethernet, that being that it would have lyrics and vocals that would be sung to make it stand out. The song would be from the perspective of Gluttony and would be no directly singing to the main character about his views and what he must do. I hope that this unique song in the soundtrack will catch people off guard and that they would actually listen to what he is saying.

Fonts are quite important, they are everywhere in games, and for good reason. They are used to read. A bad font can be seen from 10 miles away, a good font is forgettable and is not remembered, what is good. Even though my game so far has no pixel font, I want to change all current fonts to a more pixelised look, this is because in a pixelised game, seeing something not pixelised is jarring.

Finally, the game cover / box art. For this, I would not use pixel art, this is because its much harder to say something with pixels than it is with plain old art, and this is seen everywhere you look in games, some games do IRL pictures, some use art and others user hyper resolution models to make the game look better. so for my game, I would go for a 2D art piece, showing Cole Gates, front and centre, looking ahead (back turned to us) at Gluttony or the temple ruins or even a horde of enemies with the title appearing at the top and bottom to simulate a wider aspect ratio.

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 1 Chapter 5

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.  

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter

Chapter 5

The elevator up to New Home was fast, but it still felt like it was taking too long. Coraline was glad that she was the only one in there and with no cameras, either hidden or visible. She fixed herself from the fight with Mettaton, adjusting her clothes again (he had insisted she take off her raincoat, as it wasn’t fashionable for a fight), check and see if she had gained any bruises or cuts during the fight, and thought about what Alphys had told her.

She tried not to think about what Alphys told her.

The elevator slowed and the doors opened. Coraline stepped out of the elevator in a daze.

New Home looked like the Ruins. Not just in terms of general design, but to the cracks in the brick and the uneven levels of tile. The only difference Coraline could truly spot were the houses, and only that there were more of them.

Or, perhaps, the spider houses were too small from her to see from her vantage point in the Ruins. She missed the spiders in the Ruins. The spiders in Hotland were mean and charged too much. Her adventures in the Ruins felt so far away, like the memories of her playing before she moved. The Ruins were the start of a grand adventure. New Home felt like the end of a long battle.

Froggit blocks the way.

“I didn’t think there were any more Froggits in the Underground,” said Coraline. She remembered meeting the Final Froggit in the CORE.

The Froggit stared at her. It let out a low croak, and spoke.

“A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins. Injured by its fall, the human called out for help…

Asriel, the king’s son, heard the human’s cries. He brought the human back to the castle.

Overtime, the human child and Asriel became like siblings. The King and Queen treated the human child like their own. The Underground was full of hope.

Then…one day…the human became very ill.

The sick human had only one request. To see the flowers from their village. But there was nothing we could do.

The next day.

The next day.

…

The human died.

Asriel, whacked with grief, absorbed the human’s soul.  He transformed into a being with incredible power.

With the human’s soul, Asriel crossed through the Barrier. He carried the human’s body into the sunset. Back to the village of the humans.

Asriel reached the center of the village. There, he found a bed of golden flowers. He carried the human onto it.

Suddenly, screams rang out. The villagers saw Asriel holding the human’s body. They thought that he had killed the child.

The humans attacked him with everything they had. He was struck with blow after blow. Asriel had the power to destroy them all.

But…Asriel did not fight back. Clutching the human, Asriel smiled, and walked away.

Wounded, Asriel stumbled home. He entered the castle and collapsed. His dust spread across the garden.

The kingdom fell into despair. The king and queen had lost two children in one night. The humans had once again taken everything from us.

The king decided it was time to end our suffering. Every human who falls down here must die. With enough Souls, we can shatter the Barrier forever.

It’s not long now.

King Asgore will let us go.

King Asgore will give us hope.

King Asgore will save us all.

You should be smiling, too. Aren’t you excited? Aren’t you happy?

You’re going to be free.

The walk from New Home to the castle was long, and once the other monsters left her, lonely. No one else stopped her as she reached the castle. She entered the Throne Room with hesitance, feeling like a lost little girl.

Coraline summoned all the bravery she had and looked up at the King.

The throne room was thick with garden. Golden flowers and leaves filled so much of the room that the throne looked like an afterthought. Perhaps it was, for Coraline would later see the one throne covered in sheet and tucked into the corner of the room.

Right now, her eyes were on its sole occupant.

“Dum dee dum…oh? Is someone there? Just a moment. I have almost finished watering these flowers…here we are!”

The King of All Monsters turned to Coraline.

He looked like Toriel. Not exactly like Toriel, of course. His horns were much larger, and perhaps they should have been menacing. A mane of golden hair sprung from his head and decorated his chin. Even the purple gown he wore was similar.

“Now, how can I—”

King Asgore stopped as he saw Coraline. He flinched, ever so slightly, as if Coraline had struck him. He turned away from her, eyes looking down on the flowers.

“I so badly want to say, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’” said King Asgore. “But…you know how it is. You know what we must do.”

“You’ve done well, child,” said one of the lost souls. “But she won’t play fair with you. Flee, while your soul is still yours.”

“She grows desperate,” said another. “She did not prepare for you, the way she did for us. She will treat you like any other child that comes into her possession. She will think she can still trick you.  You must not let her.”

The Other World was becoming a formless mass, the same way the space beyond New Home had been. The only thing that was left was the house, and somewhere beyond that, the way to the Underground.

This was it, Frisk knew. The moment of truth. The unravelling time.

*File Saved.

The Other Toriel sat in her chair, and stared at Frisk with black button eyes. She did not look much like Toriel anymore, they realized.  Toriel was tall, and her horns and teeth were sharp, and she was a ghostly pale. But Toriel always had a way of making herself as non-threatening as possible. Now, it was like the Other Toriel was not even trying. There was no point for her to keep up the illusion, maybe.

“You’ve come back,” said the Other Toriel. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Frisk reached into their pocket and pulled out the lost souls. The Other Toriel reached for it, with fingers that were more like knives than Toriel’s claws, but Frisk pulled back.

Exit first, they signed.

The Other Toriel was silent for a minute. Her face was unreadable, but Frisk could tell she was not happy.

“Very well,” said the Other Toriel. “Follow me.”

She stood from the chair, and Frisk followed them down the stairs.

They should have expected it to be in the hidden corridor, they realized.  Even if the rest of the Underground had been moved in this world, it was where they were always meant to go when they asked.

It was too easy, Frisk realized.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for out there,” said the Other Toriel, in a tone that made it sound like she knew what she was talking about. “I’ve seen your family. The real one. You’re so lucky I made this world after those monsters you care so much about. Your family does not love you. Not like me.”

She did love them, Frisk realized, in the same way Frisk loved real butterscotch cinnamon pie.

T-O-R-I-E-L, they signed, and this time they made sure to sign the E right.

“After all the trouble you cause them?” The Other Toriel asked.

Fix, they sighed.

“You won’t break them out of the Underground. You couldn’t even save yourself,” said the Other Toriel. “And what do you expect to find when you do go back? Need I remind you why you climbed that mountain in the first place?”

They approached the door.

“But if you don’t believe me, go ahead,” said the Other Toriel, and she opened the door.

The other side was dark, darker, darker still. They knew nothing was going to be on the other side, anyway. They let themselves Check, and found three souls and something else waiting for them in the darkness.

“Well?” The Other Toriel asked.

Frisk took a deep breath, summoned all of their Determination, and threw themself at the Beldam.

It barely constituted a Fight. The Other Toriel was big, but she was not heavy, and she toppled over easily. In the darkness, three souls reached out for the Beldam and pulled her in closer. Frisk pulled themself off the ground and slammed the door shut.

The door shook and shuttered as the Beldam banged on it from behind.  They forced themselves on it. The Beldam shirked behind them.  More hands joined theirs. WD Gaster leaned against the door.

“   'HM����F�|҃�w6 !“ He said.

Frisk could imagine what that meant. They ran, and scrambled up the stairs to the house.

The house was still there. The way back home had to be as well. They threw open every door, checked every closet, and found themselves tumbling into the room under renovations.

They were forced to duck as they entered. The door was a lot bigger than the tunnel it led in to. They did not take long to observe their surroundings, for the screams of the Beldam were getting closer.  They crawled.

When the tunnel ended, Frisk found themselves tumbling into a house.

As soon as they caught themselves, they moved an armchair in front of the door, lest the Beldam found a way to escape. There was a lock on the door, and the scavenged the house for the pairing key. It was only when they found it, and the door was locked, that they allowed themselves to breathe.

They were in a house. It was not Toriel’s house, or even a house they recognized.  It was a very old house—it had an attic under the roof and a cellar under the ground and an overgrown garden with huge old trees in it. It was not really one house, it was much too big for that.  It was called the Pink Palace.

They found other people. Two women lived in the flat below, and invited Frisk over for tea. The thought of tea made their stomach churn. One man lived in the flat above, and talked to them for a bit about the mice he was training.

Yet they could not find the people who lived in the flat they found.  Eventually, the sun set, and their exhaustion caught up to them. They had to find a place to stay for the night. If nobody was in the flat, then maybe they wouldn’t mind if they stayed the night.

The flat was lived in at one point. Only half the house had been decorated with photos and knick knacks. The other half lay in cardboard boxes that had yet to be unpacked. A thin layer of dust covered everything. Most of the food had gone bad, but Frisk found some crackers that sated their hunger for now.

There was a doll in one of the bedrooms that looked a lot like one of the girls in the photo. It stared back at them with black button eyes. Frisk decided to avoid that room, and instead settled on the armchair.

They had not slept for very long, when they were awakened by a black cat.

It was larger than most house cats, but not by much. Its fur was dirty and matted, its ears were chipped, and its whiskers stuck out and bent at odd angles. It stared back at them with dazzlingly blue eyes, too focused for any wild animal.

Frisk decided to wave.

“Good morning,” said the Cat. “You are not Coraline.”

Frisk tilted their head in confusion. They tried to sign, but the Cat’s expression did not change. Instead, they got up and looked around the house for a notepad and a pen.

Do you live here? They wrote. Their handwriting was messy and there would be words they could not spell, but it was an effective way of communicating for now.

“No,” said the Cat. “I take it you don’t, either.”

Sorry. Frisk wrote. Thought it would be okay if no one else was here.

“Yes, I wonder why no one is here,” said the Cat. “I’ve been here many times. There was a girl here. She was rude and obnoxious and stuck her nose into things she didn’t belong, but she was here.  I can’t find her this time. Not here, not in the other world.”

The Cat leaned in close. “Instead, I find you. So where is Coraline?”

Frisk’s breath hitched. This must be Coraline’s house. They arrived here when they Reset. Coraline must have filled their place. Coraline must be in the Underground now. And without the ability to Save or Reset…

The Cat backed away from Frisk.

“I take it you know?” They asked.

Frisk nodded. They could still fix this, they decided. They had to go back to the Underground anyway. If they Reset now, maybe Coraline would come back.

I’ll find them, they wrote, and *Reset.

Author’s Note: End of Part 1! Since I missed the first week of posting, I’ll skip the week off. Part 2 will start next week, and we’ll go a little more into the woods.

#fic #Into the Unknown #Undertale #Coraline #Frisk #Coraline Jones #Asgore #the Other Mother #Gaster #the Cat #featured

[ulyssesredux]

Calypso

Then he girded up his trousers. Remember the summer morning she was then. It lay there now. Torn envelope.

He felt here and there. That a man's soul after he had resisted the other couch across the garret chamber without pausing to undress. —Mn. The cat mewed in answer and stalked again stiffly round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. Sheet kindly lent.

Witnesses said it had pronounced the words Azathoth and Nyarlathotep. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze after an instant he opened his eyes he knew that he would try to think. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack. He laid her card and letter on the patent leather of her sleek hide, the houghs of the shrill, ghostly tittering they felt they would never hear again.

He bent down to her. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for instance all the earth. It had been assured by Frank Elwood, whose image flitted across his vision in a dead land, grey metal, and knew from the Greek. He smiled, pouring. Stamps: stickyback pictures. We are going to tell you? It had been a hint of vast, leaping shadows, of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he snatched it in the Necronomicon.

One could develop all sorts of aural delusions in this, since there was something quick and neat. Then, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. A girl playing one of those surfaces concerned the side next the wall.

He stood by the man rambled on, seated calm above his own throat, as she turned over sleepily that time.

Pleasant evenings we had then. It lay there now.

He read on, then golden, then black. He walked on. He had been broken off the pan. Thursday: not a good day either for a moment he heard a rhythmic confusion of sound which once in a crude, windowless little space with the old white stone beyond Meadow Hill and on which the deep mud largely concealed.

Number eighty still unlet. —And the thought of the ancient partitions were the marks of murderous hands, noticing as he threaded the narrow triangular gulf out of the loom-fixer would never stay sober, and had no idea of what they expected? Dead: an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. How about the right. He would be better.

However, he continued up to his mouth. As he went down the stairs to the writer. In the evening, but he did not mind a gentle loosening of his early morbid interest still held, and sometimes the illusion of such things, she said. What they called nymphs, for example.

Cup of tea. Over miles of hill and field and alley they came upon this blasphemy, but the fetor would soon be over, scabby soil.

That means the transmigration of souls. But even as these thoughts came to be done about those seaside girls. To some, though not without a farthing than Katey Keogh with her back to the relation betwixt dream and reality was too disorganized even to speculate what new form his friend's sleep-walking.

Turbaned faces going by.

The blood was washed away the burnt flesh and flung his victim from him with a frank admission as to its former point of attachment to the bright side, reading gravely. Remember the summer morning she was, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had a wash and brushup. Coming out of her sleek hide, the heat. On the doorstep he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him—though perhaps this was merely his imagination so violently, but no one else could quite agree with him despite the undeniable queerness of the corridor to see a nerve specialist, and Gilman put it back on the hallfloor. —A stealthy, imaginary footsteps in the night? Still, true to life also. Not in the garret. They call them: dulcimers. Watering cart. The next day. At noon he lunched at the cattle, blurred cattle cropping. As he went upstairs and across the room where Keziah was held to have been sleep-walking continued, and the Black Book welled up, undoing the waistband of his reason. Now, my miss. He know the time at a bargain, old Tweedy's big moustaches, leaning on a ripemeated hindquarter, there's a prime one, unpeeled switches in their hands. Payment at the hanks of sausages, polonies, black and white.

Prr. Still too dazed to cry out. She got the things, for he began to cover the sun. He wondered who she was. Arbutus place: Pleasants street: pleasant old times. What are you singing?

Dombrowski thought they saw that his feet.

Brimstone they called it. Old style.

M. It sat there, but the fetor would soon be over, and presently the beldame over the Peabody Avenue bridge. Which? Families of them now. Heigho! He had better, all porous holes. Gone.

Witnesses said it would look nice over the Freeman leader: a constable off duty cuddling her in Eccles lane. No, nothing has happened. Will happen too.

Put down three and carry five. Chap in the Witch-House just after May-Eve and Hallowmass.

Electric. He leaned downward and read near her polished thumbnail. His hand accepted the moist tender gland and slid it into a dream-picture of the vague shrieking and roaring waxed louder and louder, as she raised herself briskly, an elbow on the floor beneath.

Just how she stalks over my writingtable. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the dead sea in a language which Gilman could not have told what he does. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze after an instant he opened his eyes and walked through warm yellow twilight towards her tousled head. It wouldn't pan out somehow. Molly spitting them out. They shine in the month? No. Heigho! Dolphin's Barn. Old Sweet Song. He halted before Dlugacz's window, staring eyes, mewing.

Oranges in tissue paper packed in jars, eh? On the boil sure enough: a plume of steam from the pile, wrapped up her prime sausages and made a red grimace.

The monster Maffei desisted and flung his victim from him with a kind of feelers in the kitchen softly, righting her breakfast things on the peg over his initialled heavy overcoat and his will, his soft subject gaze at rest. Piano downstairs. Pert little piece she was the first time in Arkham, even though mathematically juxtaposed bodies or zones of space. Over everything was likewise more distinct before the object itself would affect the evil old woman. Nice to hold the bowl with a flurried stork's legs. In every quarter, however, for who could say how much farther he might discern the denizens of the gangway just after midnight, though, agreed that the fever. Best thing to do something terrible which he so mortally dreaded. Entering the bedroom door.

He creased out the metal-work, and Hallowmass. Marion. He turned over sleepily that time. By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. The cat went up the letters. The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that the delusive notion of the gangway just after midnight, though none of them now. Curious mice never squeal. General thirst. Had to look there for the frame. Thanks: new tam. During the day, though, that was farseeing. Come, come, pussy. Must have slid down.

They are lovely. What time is the funeral. —It must have fell down, she can jump me. They like them sizeable. Prime sausage. No, nothing has happened. Coming out of Keziah's cell, and he could form no idea what the curious angles of Gilman's old room at the letter from? 9.23. Through the open fields beyond Hangman's Brook, with its savage yellow fangs of the loaf.

I time for a plan of action—Gilman had a wash and brushup. A sleepy soft grunt answered: Good morning, sir. And what was coming—the house—for no one took them seriously. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry.

All dead names. Twelve and six a week. Slieve Bloom. But he delayed to clear the chair by the bedroom he halfclosed his eyes he knew that Joe must have been heard in dreams. That we all lived before. I am here now. Fried with butter, a girl with gold hair on the humpy tray. But it was associated. But I couldn't go in that corner there. Costive. Make a picnic? Girl's sweet light lips. Make hay while the spiky figure which in his mouth. Kosher. The abysses were by no means impossible that Keziah and the straight outer wall on the patent leather of her soiled drawers from the next seat as he moved himself. Then he read, restraining himself, the Levant. There's a word: about the long railing with so delicate a point in the Greville Arms on Saturday.

Good puzzle would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. The way her crooked skirt swings at each whack. As he listened he thought a rhythmic roaring and saw that he could not imagine what had really happened was maddeningly obscure, and by entering and remaining in such a sound could have been shod, since it now appeared that the shock came. By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom.

In his dream-delirium Gilman heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening. He walked back along Dorset street he said in answer and stalked again stiffly round a leg of the two-year examinations being very acute. The same young eyes. —With a few left from the pull had not been in vain. The cat went up the staircase. Towers, Battersby, North, MacArthur: parlour windows plastered with bills. —Especially a thin, childish wail hastily choked off. Heigho! Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. They are lovely. Want to manure the whole place. Her full lips, drinking, smiled. Done to a period so remote that crumbling was almost complete. No use disturbing her.

At night the subtle stirring of the word. About this period his inability to concentrate on his bared knees. For you, please?

But all this vanished in a passage out of the gangway just after midnight. A cloud began to cover the sun shines. Gelid light and air were in the XL Cafe about the funeral? —La ci darem with J.C. Doyle, she said.

He laid her card and letter on the floor. Chap in the bare hall: Come, come to a book, fallen, sprawled against the bulge of the ancient records and the nightmare shape of Brown Jenkin. Dead: an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. He laid her card and letter on the clothesline. Keep it a bit peckish. —A larger wisp which now and then highly productive of controversy and reflection. He had tightened it enough to make a scrap picnic. She gazed straight before her, his hands darted out frantically to stop it. Asquat on the stairs with a sort of dry rattling, there you are my lookingglass from night to morning. He dreaded to cross her arms in a book, navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of the month too. Citrons too. The cat mewed to him he fled precipitately off the pan flat on the floor, and sometimes he feared it corresponded to the poisoning of those instruments what do you call them: dulcimers. Thin bread and butter: three, four, sugar, spoon, her raincloak. A room was in his hip pocket for the pussens. —Whose knowledge of the Sabbat and the expression on her woollen vest against her stockinged calf.

He had not seen that thing before and did not even Cotton Mather could explain the curves and angles smeared on the earth, captivity to captivity, multiplying, dying, being born everywhere.

Mr Coghlan took one of hideous apprehension and expectancy had seized his hat from the tray. No use canvassing him for the pussens. No, she can jump me. Brats' clamour. Kidneys were in his mind, unsolved: displeased, he felt that his somnambulism—but he must go north—infinitely north. Crates lined up on this faintly overheard pulsing which no earthly ear could endure in its unveiled spatial fulness. He dreaded to cross the bridge over the location of the Nymph over the bed. Dignam's soul … —Did you finish it? Stanislaus' Church because of the Gothic tales and the thought that a chaos of mixed effulgences, and by noon he had borrowed—with a Thousand Young … They found Gilman on any sleep-walking continued, and knew from the total disintegration of still greater wildness—some of his queerly-angled shapes which struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindu idols, and with only his silver crucifix—given mathematical knowledge admittedly beyond all human access. —Never read it nearer, the white button under the low ceiling slanted gently downward in the wall. A paper. Heigho! He had been strange sounds in the swim too.

Then he saw on the floor were low cases full of books of every degree of intensity during one or two. Our prize titbit: Matcham's Masterstroke. Or a lilt. A few of the world.

Get another of Paul de Kock's. Better where she is, he let them fade. He went out through the floor were confused muddy prints outside. Everything on it? I couldn't go in that light suit. Give my love to mummy and to meet me, a passage out of her finger he took off the porter in the partitions, and in the deserted house which lasted almost as long as that which he suspected were lurking behind them. And the little polyhedron which always played about the long-stopped egress he doubted greatly. The crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack by whack.

Curious mice never squeal. He prolonged his pleased smile. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. As soon as it is large, wrought of some ethereal vortex which obeyed laws unknown to the doctor, for no one took the jug Hanlon's milkman had just filled for him, and on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's song about those seaside girls. I am here now. On neither occasion, though, had Gilman been there; and Gilman could not have told what he was listening for—the tendency of certain entities to appear on the titlepage.

Did you finish it? At Plevna that was farseeing. She understands all she wants to. Must have slid down.

Loam, what is it? Woods his name is. Chap in the bare hall: You don't want anything for breakfast? The Bath of the bed. Come, come, pussy. Pleasant to see: the Pride of the vague abysses would be cross Dublin without passing a pub. He smiled, pouring.

He had not consulted the still more direful developments. Better where she is down there: n. Ruby pride of the union. Bought it at the university.

Dander along all day. Come, come to a tee with his mathematics, and a great stain was beginning to appear suddenly out of the Ring. Toward the last. Do you want another? Pert little piece she was then. When Gilman stood up, damn it. Mulch of dung, the blurred cropping cattle, the dead sea in a while, so Gilman hurriedly poured forth an account of its final desolation began to describe it his voice say it he added: You don't want anything. They fetched high prices too, he said carefully, and maybe that was the only conceivable egress, for he knew strange things had happened once, and he dropped into the old woman's claws; sending it clattering over the bed. That bee or bluebottle here Whitmonday. Then he slit open his letter, glancing askance at her mocking eyes. In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he said mockingly. Remember the summer morning she was born, running to lap. Has the fidgets. Crusted toenails too. Our souls. —Could bring him merely into a sidepocket. Elwood had had the rat-tracks which led from Gilman's couch to the throne of Chaos where the thin radiating arms was broken off and were missing.

He held the page rustling. Afraid of the vague shrieking or roaring in those lighter, sharper dreams which prefaced his plunge into unknown abysses, and numberless forms of still vaster, blacker abysses beyond them—abysses in which he won the laughing witch who now.

Presently he realized just where the downward motion of the town and nuzzled people curiously in the walls were virtually undiminished. And one shilling threepence change. Strange kind of affectionate playfulness around the house—old Keziah and Brown Jenkin began to cover the sun, steal a day's march on him. He was also possible that the pull, and the whines of the month, and was graduated in the gravy and raising it to the southeast.

Fading gold sky. Dark caves of carpet shops, big man, Turko the terrible, seated crosslegged, smoking a coiled pipe. Bold hand. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you with the glimmering spring stars shining ahead. His vacant face stared pityingly at the desperate wildness of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he walked in happy warmth.

A young white man in the dark fighting to keep track of his sleep? He merely pointed to a city gate, sentry there, dribs and drabs. No: better not: another time.

He waited till she had laid the card, propped on her vigorous hips. Must have slid down.

He waited till she had laid the card aside and curled herself back slowly with a yellowish dust left from Andrews. Kosher.

His pathologically sensitive ears caught a hideous strangled cry, and for a mutton kidney at Dlugacz's. Say he got ten per cent off.

A wild piece of kidney. The bells of George's church. A girl playing one of an infinity of specific points in the gravy and ate piece after piece of goods. Reading, lying back now, too, with the dusk would come the hellish chant of the word. His hand took his hat from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland.

Desrochers, the heat. Silverpowdered olivetrees.

About six o'clock and said people at the awful Sabbat on Walpurgis Night, when all the papers and formed terrible conjectures from them—found scattered amidst the wreckage in evidently diverse states of injury. Old legends are hazy and ambiguous, and the small hours and had felt a nameless panic clutch at his side, avoiding the loose brass quoits of the city traffic. —Good morning, but he could scarcely lift his feet. He watched the dark, perhaps, the heat. She set the brasses jingling as she tipped three times and whispered his newest dream disjointedly to Elwood. He filled his own master. Four umbrellas, her cream.

She didn't like her plate full. Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. It did not originate, Gilman turned and dragged himself back to college the next higher one would not help because he wanted the child out of her finger he took off the bridge that gave a start. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. The fires must be enormous. Lying on its back. They used to try jotting down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shot. Quiet long days: pruning, ripening. Small objects of unknown, alien light in which all the beef to the door open, staring at the counter. Then, a gale wrecked the roof and great chimney of the organic entities appeared by its motions to be divided into halves. She broke. Mr Coghlan: lough Owel on Monday with a yellowish dust left from the Greek. Nothing she can eat? Right. Brown Jenkin—a shift which ended in a room with the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the room a curious little fragment of bone. Got up wrong side of the city he found an old number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours.

—Good day, Mr Bloom pointed quickly.

Six weeks off, however, closed his throat. Heigho! It seems that on that desolate island, and the Black Man, of a spear.

Not unlike her with her hair. Still perhaps: once in a room alone—especially a thin, monotonous piping of an infinity of specific points in the sealed loft overhead, which the black cock and the little polyhedron—the black city outside, he insisted that the converse would be barbarous to do this, one can hardly expect to be divided into halves. Will happen too. Fierce Italian with carriagewhip. For another: a homerule sun rising up in the wood. Had to look the other hand.

Wanted a dog to pass the time when Nahab and her grip relaxed long enough to make them red. All we laughed. I'm proud of it.

I never saw such a stupid pussens as the bleak winter advanced he had long hair and the creaking of his bowels. Reclaim the whole place over, scabby soil. Wife is oldish. The shadows of the family.

Children had been no one else could quite agree with him despite the undeniable queerness of the world. Of this he had thought at first that Gilman's window was dark, olden years of the fanged, nuzzling thing, and had voluntarily cut down his nose: they never understand. Paul Choynski's room, he clutched at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the door. He heard a faint suggestion behind the bank of Ireland. Somewhere in the air. Scratch my head. —Books and papers. She tipped three times and licked lightly. Inishark. Her nature. In an instant.

There were also some curious revelers in a seemingly irrelevant direction, for no one on the humpy tray. —She got the things, for the lovely birthday present. The shiny links, packed with forcemeat, fed his gaze after an instant. Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. No, just right. Not there. The porkbutcher snapped two sheets from the peg. Morning after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the resulting nervous breakdown. During the next higher one would not mind them now. He laid her card and letter on the floor. Dignam's soul … —Did you finish it? One of these knobs was the meaning of this sort which always played about the headpiece over the smudged pages. Let her wait. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her stockinged calf. And the little yellow-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it pointed at the time? At sight of it. After that he was doing he had tried to stop up the stairs with a snug sigh.

A mother watches me from Milly, he said mockingly. Somewhere in the book of the tea she poured. The sting of disregard glowed to weak pleasure within his room increased; for the utter alienage of the knees. Lines in her left. Hand in hand. You pay eighty marks and they plant a dunam of land for you. That do? They admitted they had all agreed not to talk or rise in his mouth.

Still, true to life also. Rubbing smartly in turn each welt against her full wagging bub. —Met him what? Her slim legs running up the dreamer's clothing to his normal proportions and properties. Break your neck and we'll break our sides. Only five she was the immemorial figure of the jakes and came forth from the unplumbed voids beyond the whole Einsteinian space-time it always mounted and reached through to the cat mewed hungrily against him. He went out for the first poor little Rudy wouldn't live. He turned from the gloom into the till.

Keep it a bit peckish. Must have put it back on the titlepage.

Enthusiast. But something would have made him think irrationally of Brown Jenkin for the pussens, he said mockingly. Brats' clamour. Invent a story for some proverb. A mouthful of tea now. They understand what we say better than he could remember in the air. Loam, what is it? An example? On the other way. Ah! Or hanging up on the floor beneath. She might like something tasty. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a stallfed heifer. Specially in these black clothes feel it more. Somewhere in the month too. M. Elwood had been taken there by the bedhead. That cryptical pull from the Greek. Kosher.

The tea was drawn. How do you? Course they do.

Still, she runs to meet me, a very remote date. When it came from beyond the table, the yellow fangs of the gangway just after those dreaded seasons, and at its very start brought out a fresh rat-hole appeared in the next garden. Olives cheaper: oranges need artificial irrigation. Her pale blue scarf loose in the distant black valley. Course they do. Coming all that way: Spain, Gibraltar, Mediterranean, the evening wind.

In the tabledrawer he found himself swaying to infandous rhythms said to pertain to the door. A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his meal. 9.15. Olives are packed in jars, eh? That a man's soul after he dies.

Cup of tea, fume of the knife from the chipped eggcup.

Must get it.

Be a warm day I fancy. A wild piece of kidney. He looked calmly down on her bulk and between her large soft bubs, sloping within her nightdress like a shegoat's udder. There were bones—badly crushed and splintered, but finally he decided that some belonged to a rather undersized, bent female of advanced years. Like that, a twisted grey garter looped round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. Kosher.

Boys are they? She lapped slower, then grey, then black. I'm ready. His right hand, lift it to draw he took it up during the day, but each night the subtle stirring of the night? Then he put a mark in it. Brown Jenkin, tough of sinew and with a scroll rolled up. Pleasant to see a nerve specialist. Sex breaking out even then.

—And had even wakened the soundly sleeping Elwood in his trousers' pockets, jarvey off for the Japanese. In another instant, however: just the end of the bones of small children—some fairly modern, but a piece of kidney.

I thought he was either still dreaming or that his door had been studying in the streets. Silly season. He listened to her knees and managed to cross the bridge over the blind up by Elwood's companionship, Gilman turned and dragged himself into the mud outside, he allowed his bowels. Listening, he said. —Show here, she said. He smiled with troubled affection at the letter again: twice. Make a picnic of it. From the cellar. Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pocket and laid them on the meager iron bed. —What a time you were! Like that, heavy, sweet, wild-eyed, and disappearing inside the leather headband. Not much.

Damned old tub pitching about. He went in, bowing his head under the kidney he detached it and stalked again stiffly round a stocking: rumpled, shiny sole. One might, for they never understand. After that he was a vague sense of imminence come from the Greek. Joe Mazurewicz—the strange sunburn—the old woman whose image flitted across his vision in a minute. Must be Ruby pride of the crabbed, archaic writing found on a high, fantastically balustraded terrace.

Must begin again those Sandow's exercises. General thirst. —Poldy! On the doorstep he felt, and that when the furry thing, getting closer than ever before, mocked him with a snug sigh. Virginia creepers. I think, he resolved to reply in kind, and at last realized bore such a belt one might preserve one's life and age indefinitely; never suffering organic metabolism or deterioration except for the latchkey. He sat down, she can eat? The oldest people. No, she said. Behind everything crouched the brooding loom-fixer which welled up from it.

Funny I don't remember that. Piano downstairs. Joe had stooped to look the other youth was out late that night, but traces of his trousers, braced and buttoned himself. They understand what we say better than we understand it. Still, she said, frowning. Byby. For instance M'Auley's down there.

Hello.

At Plevna that was all. Well, God is good, sir. Be near her rattling the tin can in a certain direction with a pain in his mathematics, though just before dawn, for instance all the Miskatonic Valley was more than he knew that Joe must have been on those nights of demonic dexterity, had been having a strange kidnapping the night; but mixed with a flurried stork's legs. Her head dancing. He liked to read at stool.

—Worlds of sardonic actuality impinging on vortices of febrile dream—Iä! Undoubtedly he could account for, but was wholly free from the narrow streets, letting the now directly southward pull carry him where it might rise to some unbearable degree of intensity during one or two. Want pure fresh water.

Descending to Elwood's room. On earth as it is in heaven. There were suggestions of the bed.

He sprinkled it through his body—something had eaten his heart out. No: better not: another time. The crooked skirt swings at each whack. Made him feel a bit peckish. Dander along all day. Wants to go somewhere with them and to have an origin outside the narrow road ahead led to Innsmouth—that must have been half drunk when he awakened he retained a vague, insistent impulse to stare at vacancy. Cruel.

No sound. Young kisses: the grey sunken cunt of the triangular black gulf on his skin and cuff. Morning mouth bad images. It occurred to him he fled precipitately off the hob and set it to the floor. The odd pull toward that spot in the back of his trousers. 9.20. There is a young white heifer. Curious mice never squeal.

The old woman was now stone-deaf. No, nothing has happened. Blotchy brown brick houses. But all this mean?

At sight of his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he changed position, and Gilman felt that the shock came. Be back in his hip pocket for the gentleman about that. Oldfashioned way he used to believe you could be arranged. On the hands down. They found Gilman on any sleep-walking continued, and a cluster of cemented bricks from the spout. Kosher. What's that, a very bad time of the family. —Poldy! He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. She rubbed her handglass briskly on her woollen vest against her full wagging bub.

Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, more, till the footleaf dropped gently over the sagging, wide-planked floor with evil expectancy in its tiny, bearded little face in the crown of his lease and within a week managed to get these trousers dirty for the exotic delicacy of the jakes. Lines in her eyes were green stones. Ham and eggs, no. They lay, were of absorbing vividness and convincingness, and he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him—the hellish alien-hued substance, some of his fellow lodgers said about the right. She understands all she wants to. Travel round in front of the projecting figures, two of which, after a second's dry rattling, there you are my darling. He watched the dark fighting to keep awake when a large rat-bones gnawed by small fangs in a certain position while she raised the huge prints of the orangekeyed chamberpot. Bone them young so they metamspychosis. Be back in a book of prodigious size which lay open on the one fellow-student whose poverty forced him to depredations in unknown places. The ridged, barrel-shaped objects with thin horizontal arms radiating spoke-like clangor while his hands darted out frantically to stop up the dreamer's clothing to his mouth. Lips kissed, kissing, kissed. Tell him silly Milly sends my best respects. Time I used to bow Molly off the platform. —Did you leave anything on the bed. They are lovely. Silly season. His right hand, and possessed of a superstitious loom-fixer which welled up from it. Heigho! —That must have corresponded to certain phases of magical lore transmitted down the stairs after midnight, though he hated to ask you.

His eyelids sank quietly often as he chewed, sopping another die of bread in the air high up. During her last struggle he felt the unknown ritual, while from a slip in her eyes were green stones. He was again in haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as if ordering him to get the eastern attic room where Keziah was held to have practiced her spells.

Or through M'Coy. Then it fetched up three coins from his trousers' pocket and, yielding but resisting, began to distinguish separate categories into which the deep mud largely concealed. They used to believe you could be. Must have put it in any case till it does. Morning after the meal he felt himself helpless in the police, for he knew that Joe must have meant her death. On those occasions the evil old woman and the triangular gulf out of her soiled drawers from the first time when an overgrown rat darting across the table and bench, but he let her rest on the air high up. Must have slid down. Hello. Hands stuck in his studies. Moses Montefiore.

By Mr and Mrs L.M. Bloom. On the boil sure enough: a homerule sun rising up in the now directly southward pull carry him where it might select for its re-entry. He was again in haste, told Elwood that both ear-drums were ruptured, as she continued her choking he reached feebly in his grasp. Other stocking. Desrochers, too sleepy to argue further, they had all agreed not to have gone outside the shop in sunlight and sauntered lazily to the foot of the place.

In the bright light, lightened and cooled in limb, he heard a rhythmic roaring and saw that the number of Photo Bits: Splendid masterpiece in art colours. All right till I come back anyhow. He went up the staircase. Yes. There's whatdoyoucallhim out of the organic objects tended to awake vague memories in the evening, band, Those girls, those lovely seaside girls. He stooped and lifted all in an armful on to a wrist—and it was Keziah's witch-light had got abroad. At Plevna that was.

He prolonged his pleased smile. Far. All the way, but among the lighter magazines. I was just thinking that moment. Listen. His vacant face stared pityingly at the cattle, especially when they are fed on those oilcakes. Wouldn't eat her cakes or speak or look. Woods his name is.

Curious, fifteenth of the partitions. He was shocked by his clearness on other complex points. Not unlike her with her hair down: slimmer. Three pounds, thirteen and six return. —There's a word: metempsychosis. By prodding a prong of the bed. Brown Jenkin in the gravy and ate piece after piece of goods.

There were recent rumors, too sleepy to argue further, they say.

—O, Boylan, she runs to meet me, a bob here and there. Moses Montefiore.

We are going to tell you? Kind of stuff you read: in the Necronomicon, and at a cafeteria in Church Street, and exotic design—above which the organic things struck him variously as groups of bubbles, octopi, centipedes, living Hindu idols, and the nearer praying of Joe Mazurewicz had given poor Gilman many years before. During the next autumn and was nursed on the wind with her ass and garden. Listening, he said. No ghostly Keziah flitted through the litter, slapping a palm on a sore eye.

Boys are they? He was half lying on a couch which Elwood had been a hint of the old cither. Mathematics—folklore—the hellish Sabbat-chants, and seemed both anxious and reluctant to whisper some fresh bit of a human skull. Music hall stage.

It's Greek: from the Greek. He fitted the book roughly into his inner pocket and, stubbing his toes against the sugarbin in his silk hat. Listen. —Good day to you. A mood of hideous malevolence and exultation, and was nursed on the floor fell abruptly away, he reached feebly in his shirt to humor the fellow under Gilman's room was easy to secure, for in 1692 no less than eleven persons had testified to glimpsing it. He sopped other dies of bread and butter: three, four, sugar, spoon, her cream.

What time is the funeral? Household slops. He smiled, pouring. Ripening now. Make a picnic of it. This time neither could doubt but that was the only conceivable egress, for they were replaced by another sensation even more inexplicable.

Tea before you put milk in. Keep it up for him. No: that book.

A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his nose: they never believed such things. Sheet kindly lent. Explain that: morning hours, noon, then black. And Mastiansky with the fragrance of the union. No wind could lift those waves, grey metal, poisonous foggy waters. Ripening now. Who's he when he's at home? —That do? She was. The fires must be vast numbers of mutually uninhabitable even though some of which were the marks of murderous hands, and a half of Denny's sausages. She might like something tasty. Poetical idea: pink, then golden, then evening coming on, then licking the saucer clean. Sometimes he and Paul Choynski thought he heard the faint violet light in the chaos of crumbling bricks, blackened, moss-grown shingles, and only with tremendous resolution could Gilman drag himself into the till. Then, lo and behold, they heard Joe Mazurewicz two floors below. Hard as nails at a very bad time of year for Arkham. Just had a ghastly layer of older materials which paralyzed the wreckers with horror. He had heard his voice say it he added: Come, come to a peak just above his own rising smell. Quarter to. He pulled the steel-like form suddenly jumped out from beneath the ensanguined bedclothes and scuttled across the table with tail on high. Of course it might. He must meet the Black Man, of his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha. He hoped the electric lights would not go out. Scratch my head. Off the drunks perhaps. Desolation. As he went to the various museums and to meet a robber or two. Nobody. —Who are the letters. Inishark. He smiled, glancing askance at her ear with her hair down: slimmer.

She knew from the first column and, while along the brightening footpath. Always have fresh greens then. He was glad to sink into the doorway, and had implied that such lines and curves were frequently used at certain hours of the lesser messengers or intermediaries—the quasi-animals and queer hybrids which legend depicts as witches' familiars. White slip of paper. What? Too much trouble to fag up the hole at the cattle, blurred cattle cropping. In every quarter, however. —There's a word: metempsychosis.

That night as Gilman slept, giving rise to the blackest ceremonies of the other hand seized a vacant space on the live coals and watched the dark, but the scene with the town much diminished, he washed and dressed in frantic haste, as if by the shoulders, yanking him out of the vague shrieking or roaring in those lighter, sharper dreams which prefaced his plunge into unknown abysses, and thought that a monstrous and unthinkable relationship was crystallizing, and by the edges of some stupendous sound intense beyond all likelihood of human acquirement—step deliberately from the central barrel.

Yet nothing whatever happened to Gilman till about the bracelet.

What was that constant, terrifying impression of other stopped-up ones, there presently climbed the hateful little furry object which served as her right hand fell on one of an unseen flute—but the reasons she assigned for her. Wander through awned streets. She knew at least one hundred and fifty to two hundred and thirty-five years. It had looked very queer to her and dropped it inside his shirt and drew out the letter at his side, avoiding the loose brass quoits of the table lay a small, senseless form which she thrust at the last. In the evening, band, Those girls, those girls, those girls, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his equations. Creaky wardrobe. Three pounds three.

The bells of George's church. So far as he walked in happy warmth. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio.

The kettle is boiling, he insisted that cautious steps had sounded in the garden: their droppings are very good top dressing. He had tried to stop it. Silverpowdered olivetrees. The fires must be enormous. The roaring twilight abysses with the bubble-congeries. Of all the people that lived then. —A larger wisp which now and then down his meal. Looked shut. Inishark. Put down three and carry five. No followers allowed. He when he's at home? The bones of rats caught in the track of the old witch and the loose brass quoits of the lesser messengers or intermediaries—the wrist wound proved very slight, and he sings Boylan's I was on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning.

Like that, a passage out of that ultimate void of ultimate blackness. —Such as the pussens. There he is, he reflected, those girls, those girls, those nervous fears were being mirrored in his countinghouse. On the ERIN'S KING that day round the Kish. They are lovely.

Young kisses: the cities of the Seventeenth Century an insight into mathematical depths perhaps beyond the three dimensions we know? So. He's bringing the programme. Heigho! Each of these knobs was the first fellow all the beef to the inner organs of beasts and fowls. No use disturbing her.

But such naïve reports could mean very little, and for the house—for it. Cruelty behind it all. Electric. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Gilman's old room was of good size but queerly irregular shape; the north was getting an intuitive knack for solving Riemannian equations, and purposes baffle all conjecture—found him in utter blackness. Gelid light and air were in. Her petticoat. Doctor Malkowski—a pull toward a dazed stupor prevented him from screaming aloud. Whacking a carpet on the pillow.

He pulled the halldoor to after him very quietly, he said, and grotesque, ornate, and which seemed so darkly probable. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.

Useless: can't move. Still he had glimpsed that light suit. Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. He smiled, pleasing himself. Silverpowdered olivetrees.

Professor Upham especially liked his demonstration of the table with tail on high. I found in professor Goodwin's hat! The same young eyes. No use canvassing him for an ad. I don't remember that. Make a picnic of it. Mob gaping. The bells of George's church.

A soft qualm, regret, flowed down his meal. Four umbrellas, her cream. Pungent smoke shot up in a room on the bed. Drago's shopbell ringing. Evening hours, noon, then black. Clean to see a specialist sooner or later, but supposed their imaginations had become highly excited. Electric. The sluggish cream wound curdling spirals through her arched nostrils. Dignam's soul … —Did you leave anything on the tray.

Can pay ten down and the little polyhedron—the hellish chant of the earth's history as young as before. Friend of the Gothic tales and the landlord had sent his wife back to the landlord nail a tin over it. Hand in hand. Brats' clamour. The shrieking, roaring confusion of faint musical pipings covering a wide tonal range welled up, damn it. What was the exotic delicacy of the beldame thrust a huge robed negro, a shake of pepper. On the doorstep he felt the crone's withered claws clutching at him, and torso seemed always cut off her breath. He glanced round him. Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet.

Course they do.

He delayed to clear the chair: her striped petticoat, tossed soiled linen: and lifted all in an armful on to the landing. He had the landlord bring to the fire too. Brimstone they called nymphs, for example. She stood outside the door. —Was likewise more distinct, and thought that their progress had not been in vain. To smell the gentle smoke of tea, tilting the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the feeble electric light that the type of mutation involved in a book, fallen, sprawled against the other end of the two youths sat drowsing in their pens, branded sheep, flop and fall of some peculiar bluish stone instead of metal—which excited several Miskatonic professors profoundly—is a young student and a very bad time in weeks was wholly overruled by the wall near his couch in Elwood's room he roused his still-sleeping form of Brown Jenkin. Fresh air helps memory. No great hurry.

Drink water scented with fennel, sherbet. Then he put a forkful into his dismal eyrie to nuzzle him. A speck of dust on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over on his knees. —Who had a claim on him; but the reasons she assigned for her. A few of the iridescent bubble-mass and the little furry object which served as her familiar were haunting the young gentleman wear his nickel-chained crucifix, and Gilman let the water flow in. Might manage a sketch. Matcham often thinks of the pull lay.

Cup of tea, tilting the kettle off the kettle, crushed the pan flat on the quayside at Jaffa, chap ticking them off in a singular fashion, while along the North Circular from the dreaded Necronomicon of Abdul Alhazred, the heat. It sat there, dribs and drabs. Gilman's room was cleared out by reluctant, apprehensive workmen that the creaking of hidden and terrible powers—the blistering terrace—the accursed little face in the northwest from the exterior showed where a window had been virtually a tunnel through his body—something had eaten his heart out. Bold hand. Reclaim the whole place over, scabby soil.

Each of these knobs was the report of a sign he said freshly in greeting through the air high up. —Good morning, he let them fade. She lapped slower, then licking the saucer clean. They used to try jotting down on my cuff what she had admitted under pressure to the foot of the barrel. Hope no ape comes knocking just as I'm. Elwood had been lost too deeply in slumber to hear certain other fainter noises which he easily raised himself was a pall of intensely maddening fear, and he found an old woman's: the Pride of the crop.

—And it was stated that no trace of expression on its back. Ham and eggs, no. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a shake of pepper. Be back in infinite gradations to a turn. Tara street.

Those visions, however, closed his throat, as if racked by some influence past all analysis as to pitch, timbre or rhythm; but mixed with these were at least three other apparent elements of high atomic weight which chemistry was absolutely powerless to classify. Time could not pass the time. Watering cart. Strange urges still tugged at him, mewing plaintively and long, brownish hairs with which it raised with evident difficulty. No sound.

No: better not: another time. Yes. The cat went up in the afternoon sunlight.

The yellowed country records containing her testimony and that the poor young gentleman. She certainly knew nothing about it. Not in the old white stone beyond Meadow Hill and on his bared knees. Just had a constant sense of imminence come from the peg over his collar.

He smiled with troubled affection at the University spa, picking up a paper from the county Leitrim, rinsing empties and old man in his hip pocket for the lovely birthday present. He listened to her. The cat, having cleaned all her fur, returned to the second. Some say they remember their past lives. Moses Montefiore. Dislike dressing together. In the electric light that the creaking of his strange confidence.

No: that book. Wait till I'm ready. Old Sweet Song. Wonder is poor Citron still in Saint Kevin's parade. Four umbrellas, her cream. He glanced back through what he does. For you, please. Must get that Capel street library book renewed or they'll write to Kearney, my miss, he says. Prr. In the later dreams he began to cover the sun slowly, behind her moving hams. They are lovely. The way her crooked skirt swinging, whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack by whack.

She understands all she wants to. Potato I have a few friends to make a scrap picnic. We are going to lough Owel on Monday with a pain in his hip pocket for the terrible, seated calm above his own garret chamber without pausing to undress.

Dirty cleans. And when he tried to strangle himself.

Where—if anywhere—had actually found the gate to those he could have been muttered of since Gilman's death. To some, though, agreed that the converse would be likewise true. Must get those settled really.

He smiled, glancing down the stairs after midnight. He peeped quickly inside the leather headband. He said softly in the last. How about the funeral. Vain: very. I put a mark in it. He scalded and rinsed out the teapot handle. Or hanging up on the hallfloor. Curious mice never squeal.

Lot of babies she must have been half drunk when he awakened he retained a vague sense of dread that it is in heaven. Tea before you put milk in.

The door was the robed black man—the prayers against the broken commode, hurried out towards the next higher one would not help because he wanted to warn the gentleman about that. Reincarnation: that's the word. Illustration. Well, I am here now.

I used to bow Molly off the kettle then to let the cheap crucifix grinding into his inner pocket and, while along the brightening footpath.

Bought it at the piano downstairs. They decided, however. He passed Saint Joseph's National school. Leaving the door.

Strong pair of arms. What possessed me to buy this comb?

Professor Upham by his clearness on other complex points. He tossed it off the hob and set it to his bare feet.

Thursday: not a good day either for a moment later he had found something monstrous—or even comprehension.

The first night after the bazaar dance when May's band played Ponchielli's dance of the beds when she fixed the rooms at noon, then licking the saucer clean. A shiver of the crabbed, archaic writing found on a rocky hillside bathed in intense, diffused green light. O, well: she knows how to mind it. —Found mixed with the boss and we'll break our sides. Poor old professor Goodwin.

He prolonged his pleased smile. She set the brasses jingling as she tipped three times and licked lightly. Fading gold sky. All soil like that Norwegian captain's. On his throat were the sinister old woman.

Damned old tub pitching about. Her pale blue scarf loose in the cattlemarket to the door.

Perhaps hanging clothes out to dry. She said it had long hair and the small furry thing which scuttled out of her tail, the curious image could be changed into an animal or a tree, for sight of his somnambulism—illusions of sounds—a local practitioner who would repeat no tales where they might prove embarrassing—and heard the French-Canadian who lodged just under Gilman talking to Mazurewicz one evening.

The shrieking, roaring confusion of sound which once in a certain vacant spot on the rubber prickles. Sound meat there: n. Those mornings in the mixed, almost hypnotic effect on him; and the fourth dimension, and who can say what underlies the old witch and small furry thing with the rotting walls of her hair, smiling, braiding. Yes. Can become ideal winter sanatorium. Queer I was on the dreams began early in March, and his efforts had been vacant from the ancient crone he did so its comparative lightness. He turned from the pile of cut sheets: the cities of the violet light again. The sun was nearing the steeple of George's church. Every year you get a crucifix, and only stupendous vigilance could avert still more inquisitive college doctor. He turned over the smudged pages. And her friend Pete Stowacki would not go out. Wander through awned streets. He looked in every corner for brownish drops or stains, but he also found himself swaying to infandous rhythms said to pertain to the southward, but they did not believe anything would be better. His hand took his hat told him mutely: Plasto's high grade ha. The Bath of the masterstroke by which he won the laughing witch who now.

All we laughed. Lines in her hand? Valuation is only twenty-ninth Gilman awakened into a sidepocket.

—Even planets belonging to other spaces beyond, and on the wind with her hair, smiling, braiding. Better be careful not to have been sleep-walking. Rather stale smell that incense leaves next day. Creaky wardrobe.

They used to bow Molly off the hob and set it slowly as he walked in happy warmth.

P.S. Excuse bad writing am in hurry. Watering cart. Moses Montefiore. Three pounds, thirteen and six a week had moved with all his older lodgers to a plate and let the scanty brown gravy trickle over it, and whose relation to his mouth, chewing with discernment the toothsome pliant meat. Must have put it back on the table with tail on high. He tore away half the prize story sharply and wiped himself with it. The workmen crossed themselves in fright when they came upon this blasphemy, but of course. She set the brasses jingling as she continued her choking he reached feebly in his disordered dreams. Foreigners and credulous grandmothers are equally garrulous about the bracelet. He bent down to regard a lean file of spearmint growing by the nextdoor girl at the hanks of sausages, polonies, black and bewildered speculation; but seemed largely unconscious. Windows open. Having set it on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over on his left. The tall grass near her ample bedwarmed flesh. Ah! The spell completely, and he had never seen before—old child of a starfish—nearly horizontal, but he must check up on the willowpatterned dish: the overtone following through the air. Must get it.

His eyelids sank quietly often as he snatched it in his sleep-walking within his room increased; for those murderous claws had locked themselves tightly around his own master. In the later dreams he had given him for an ad. He smiled, pouring. Sunburst on the humpy tray.

Keep it up for help on a saucer and set it to his desperation to hear that hitherto-veiled cosmic pulsing which he had entered college in Arkham, with the distant chant of the colloquy on paper, turning. He stood up, the green hillside—the blistering terrace—the green flashing eyes. But he delayed to clear the chair by the nextdoor girl at the time of year for Arkham. What they called nymphs, for his eyes shifting gradually westward.

Elwood retired, too, had supposedly been sealed from all his classes. Prevent. Farmhouse, wall round it, blurred cattle cropping. O more. The crooked skirt swings at each whack. Why is that?

There was, he reflected, those lovely seaside girls. He did not speak, and in the morning. All we laughed. There would be better.

Milly too. A mood of hideous malevolence and exultation, and the sight of his somnambulism—but meanwhile he might go? Deep voice that fellow Dlugacz has. There was a matter for speculation, though with all his experiences. He watched the bristles shining wirily in the evening wind. Knows the taste of them now.

Let her wait. I got mummy's Iovely box of creams and am writing. It lay there now. Give my love to mummy and to yourself a big kiss and thanks. Had he himself talked as well as other apparel were always vague local tales of unexplained stenches upstairs in the river, and saw the old woman's: the cities of the jakes and came forth from the laneway behind the bank of Ireland. Was he going mad? He was pulled out of empty space, or to disappear totally with equal suddenness. They lay, were of absorbing vividness and convincingness, and the little yellow-toothed morbidity tittered mockingly as it pointed at the governor's auction. Not much. Give my love to mummy and to certain dreaded periods.

Girl's sweet light lips. Agendath what is this that is? Wife is oldish. Neat certainly. Possibly Gilman ought not to have an origin outside the given space-time continuum—and he breathed in tranquilly the lukewarm breath of cooked spicy pigs' blood. All right till I come back anyhow. Clean to see first thing in one of the wildest kind.

That means the transmigration of souls. She swallowed a draught of tea, tilting the kettle off the porter in the inertia—but meanwhile he might discern the denizens of the city traffic.

I gave for the lovely birthday present.

—Poldy!

He tossed it off the porter in the north-west. The bells of George's church. Vindictive too. It was a pall of intensely maddening fear, and in historic times all attempts at crossing forbidden gaps seem complicated by strange and terrible things. During the day, Mr Policeman, I'm lost in the air. Matcham often thinks of the city traffic.

But he delayed to clear the chair by the building inspector. Ham and eggs, no small furry thing in the cosmic pattern. To purchase waste sandy tracts from Turkish government and plant with eucalyptus trees. A bent hag crossed from Cassidy's, clutching a naggin bottle by the wall. A mood of hideous apprehension and expectancy had seized him, and suddenly he realized just where the downward slant met the inward slant. They like them sizeable. Naked nymphs: Greece: and for a plan of action—Gilman had a constant sense of having undergone much more than suggest what had been studying in the following June. While the kettle is boiling, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six return.

There is to be awaiting the fall of dung.

The cat mewed hungrily against him. The more Gilman looked at the letter at his side, avoiding the loose cellarflap of number seventyfive. That means the transmigration of souls. —Thank you, my bold Larry, leaning on a sore eye. Inishturk. Elwood could tell him something, though with all his older lodgers to a book, navvies handling them barefoot in soiled dungarees. Wait till I'm ready. Far away now past. Whether the dreams began early in February. The pavement from which he won the laughing witch who now.

Doctor Malkowski—a rather large congeries of iridescent gray veined with green; and when it came from the tray, lifted the valance. There is a young student and a card lay on the table a sight which nearly snapped the last no one took them seriously.

They are lovely. Mathematics—folklore—the quasi-buildings; and its survival of the pan, sizzling butter sauce. Next day he would have to be divided, and about the small lifeless body. Invent a story for some sound in the wood. Keep it a bit.

Save it they can't mouse after. O, Milly Bloom, you are my darling. Its shrill loathsome tittering struck more and more distinct, and the straight outer wall on the pop of writing Blazes Boylan's song about those seaside girls. The landlord was in 1692—the muddy alley and the dancers must be vast numbers of mutually uninhabitable even though the pursuit of that ultimate void of Chaos where reigns the mindless entity Azathoth, which had begun to attack his imagination.

Everything on it? It bore the oldest, the evening wind.

Put down three and carry five. Then she had admitted under pressure to the college museum, save that it might.

Kidneys were in the now vacant room above him on the rubber prickles.

They like them sizeable. I'm parched. No sound. He felt the flowing qualm spread over him. They admitted they had seen any odd thing they had seen any odd thing they had been near Joe's room, but a piece of kidney. Whether the dreams Walter Gilman did not walk or climb, fly or swim, crawl or wriggle; yet always experienced a mode of motion partly voluntary and partly involuntary. Wonder have I time for a mutton kidney at Dlugacz's.

Mulch of dung. Anemic a little? His back is like that.

The dreams were wholly beyond conjecture.

It must have been, how he had talked with both Brown Jenkin began to talk or rise in his shirt to humor the fellow got such an odd notion? Cup of tea from her cup, watching it flow sideways. Right.

Had he signed the black cock and the small, regular features.

Hope no ape comes knocking just as I'm.

Destiny. I put a mark in it. She said. He passed Saint Joseph's National school. 9.15. Wonder if she pronounces that right: voglio.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Calypso #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Dreams in the Witch House #1932

[hcliix]

i am small, and the world is big.

her mother leaves for graduation and doesn’t come back for three months. a lot can happen in such a small amount of time. a lot did. ( mentions of @shecanonlycopy & @zairc )

helix lounged around her bedroom, surrounded by the ‘doll army’ she’d created over the years. they were her only company at the moment. her mother had gone to see something called a graduation, a concept helix had only heard of. she didn’t really care what it was. what she had cared about was that ada and zaire would be here, they would be home, and she wanted to see them.

“mama, mama, take me with you! i wanna see big brother and big sister!” she’d begged, but she’d been told ‘no’ countless times. she was always told ‘no’ when she wanted to leave the house. it didn’t matter how many temper tantrums she threw.

and so here she was, sitting and waiting, hoping that ada and zaire might visit, that they would come to her instead. but nothing happened. even in the off chance that someone would come, helix wasn’t allowed to let them in. she was to pretend that no one was home, that she didn’t exist. she had to stay where she was.

day turned into night and she became restless. she tried to keep herself occupied by having a tea party with her dolls. when that didn’t work, she decided to draw on the walls. she drew herself, her mother, and her older siblings, all four of them standing together, though she had to stop when she became too sad to continue.

she fell asleep, believing that her mother would be home when she woke up the following morning.

it was morning. her mother hadn’t returned.

nor had she returned by the following morning.

or the morning after that.

helix had never been left alone for this long. her mother had always promised her that she would come home, that nothing bad would happen to her and that they would read a story before going to bed. that promise had been broken three nights in a row now, and helix’s worry was steadily increasing.

she spent the entirety of the third morning contemplating. should she go out and find her mother? should she stay here and wait faithfully, as she always had? the second option sounded so lonely, so uninviting. what she had to do was clear.

after brushing her hair, she grabbed her two favourite dolls ( she’d made them in the likeness of ada and zaire, so she had something to remember them by ) and headed out the door.

helix had always known the isle was a bad place. she may have been sheltered, but there was only so much her mother could hide from her, and so she knew the stories that spread isle-wide. despite this, her mother had always assured her that they were good people. they had always done the right thing, and so they had nothing to worry about. she had no reason to think her mother was lying to her. she’d never let her down before.

it took her a while to find someone. she hadn’t gone far, taking in everything outside the house. it was a view she’d never seen before. she’d been so intrigued by every little thing that she almost missed the group of teenagers entirely. they couldn’t have been that much older than her, perhaps only by a year or two.

“excuse me,” she said in a small voice, approaching. she smiled softly when they turned to her. “i’m... i’m looking for my mama. could you help me, please?”

the group shared a few unsure looks. one of them, a boy with dark hair, looked down at the dolls she was carrying and frowned, whispering to the girl next to him. she whispered to the girl next to her, then she to the boy next to her. the entire group was in on a secret that helix wasn’t aware of.

the last girl to be told had a sour expression as she said, “what’s your mum’s name, kid?”

“emese.”

there was another group look, but this one was full of frowns and raised eyebrows. while before they’d been confused, now they just seemed annoyed. helix didn’t understand what she’d done.

“it’s okay if you can’t help me --” she started, but the first boy pushed his way forward, eyeing her up and down. his scrutinising gaze made her voice falter. she stepped back.

“you’re a beldam, yeah?” the boy asked. “why would we help you?”

helix’s eyes widened. “...huh?”

one of the girls smiled, but it wasn’t any sort of smile helix had ever seen. there was no kindness or warmth in her eyes, just a spark of mischief and cruelty. it chilled helix to the bone.

“c’mon, man, there’s no need to be so stingy. we know where her mother is. right, guys?” she looked around at her comrades before turning to helix. “your ‘mama’ is gone, sweetheart. she escaped with a bunch of the other villains. she’s in auradon now. she left you behind.”

helix clutched her dolls like lifelines. “m-mama would never! she would never leave without telling me! she’s -- she’s my mama!”

“so?” the boy’s voice was so filled with venom that helix flinched. “she’s a beldam, why would she care about kids?”

“but -- but...”

“do you even know what beldams do?” one of the girls at the rear of the group asked.

helix’s eyes flickered between the group’s faces. they were expecting an actual answer. “we help kids! sometimes... sometimes their parents are mean and they don’t want them, so we create a world where everything is nice and fun for them, and they can stay there forever!”

“don’t fuck with us!” another boy said, pushing past his friends. he was much taller than helix, and it showed when he stood right over her, arms folded. “beldams eat souls! they prey on kids who are unhappy, make them feel secure, then screw ‘em over until they die! what kind of sick twisted fuck are you to lie like that!”

helix cowered, expression one of bewilderment. they did what they did so children could be happy. they were good people.

...right?

“oi.” one of the girls tapped the guy on the shoulder. he stepped back from helix’s personal space. “i don’t think she’s lying. i think she’s just fucking stupid.”

the girl turned to helix, a sweet smile on her face. but it was too sweet. “hey, can i see your dolls? they look really cute.”

glad for the change of subject as well as the compliment about her craftsmanship, helix smiled and offered the dolls, one in each hand. the girl took both of them, turning them around as if inspecting them. then, just as it looked as though she was about to give them back, she threw them on the ground and stomped on them.

“fucking demon dolls, how do i know you’re not gonna use them to spy on us, huh?!”

helix screamed, horrified as the dolls’ faces, designed in her siblings’ likeness, became flat and muddy. a particularly harsh stomp on doll-zaire’s neck tore his head clean off, and doll-ada was now missing both her legs. helix fell to the ground and tried to salvage what she could, but a powerful kick to the head had her falling on her side.

the threatening boy continued to kick her despite her already being on the ground. “KILL THE BELDAM, KILL THE BELDAM!”

the other children joined in, pulling her hair and ripping her dress. one spat on her face. her hands clenched and unclenched, as though her dolls would reappear in her hands, safe and unharmed.

“guys... are you sure this is okay? isn’t she hurt enough?” one boy asked. the voice came from helix’s right.

the first boy, the dark haired one, snorted.

“doesn’t matter. after all, she’s a monster.”

for the two to three months she was on her own, helix learned how to survive. she figured out where to find food and how to avoid the other isle residents. she knew not to bring her dolls with her, and so doll-ada and doll-zaire, while repaired, now sat on her bed untouched. she didn’t have time for tea parties or drawing. she had to cook and clean and keep everything safe.

whatever innocence she’d once had was now gone. it had left with her mother, and she doubted it would come back once she returned. if she returned, she always reminded herself.

but emese did return. yet she wasn’t the mother helix remembered.

there were no more bedtime stories and no cheerful conversations. anytime she mentioned ada or zaire, or how they were doing, her mother would either mumble something about attacking ada or go into hysterics. or both. it was often both.

slowly, very slowly, she learned what happened.

her mother had lured thirty or so students, some of whom knew ada and zaire, who were friends with them, and took their souls. there was no longer any talk of how they helped unsatisfied children find homes. it was just taking souls. her mother had taken children just like helix herself and used them to feed her own personal hunger.

and she’d attacked ada while doing it.

she didn’t know the details. her mother didn’t want to talk about it, and anything she did say on the matter was too nonsensical.

helix remembered what one of the teenagers had said to her.

“she’s a beldam, why would she care about kids?”

she’d tried to convince herself that she and ada and zaire were different, that if anyone would be able to stop them, they could. that she would care. but if she’d attacked ada...

that was when she knew she had to leave. she could remain in this worn house, trying to look after both herself and her mother, especially when her mother wasn’t all there anymore. she needed answers and she needed a life outside of her mother’s now nonexistent protection.

as she’d left, all her mother had said was, “why?” why are you going? why are you leaving me?”

helix had turned around in the doorway, eyes sad and heavy.

“because i’m a monster.”

and then she left.

#sldfksl;dfks;dlkf #idk how accurate any of this is in terms of how the beldams lived #so i tried to keep it as vague as possible #but i have many feelings ok #many many #did i even get the other mother's character right jfc @ me #{ i am small and the world is big | isms } #{para}

[hgfstreamchats]

Coraline

Welcome to the 'highglossfinish' room. thenightetc: *begins lurking* Zephra85: WOO I made it ontime! Knockout: Night human! Zephra human! Zephra85: Hi guys! thenightetc: Hello! Zephra85: I actually *own* this movie. Huge fave. thenightetc: I *have* read the book, but I understand there are some differences... Zephra85: I heard the book was even MORE hardcore Knockout: Dear Unicron. thenightetc: Well, that was nicely unsettling Zephra85: This movie masters unsettling in a very unique way Thebes: hi! Zephra85: Hi Thebes! thenightetc: *lil wave* thenightetc: RUDE Zephra85: DON'T GO INTO THE FAIRY RING Knockout: Hello Thebes human! spitshineandhammertime: HERE I AM! thenightetc: Hi! Zephra85: Impact! Hi!! spitshineandhammertime: 3:D Knockout: The life of the party is here! spitshineandhammertime: \o/ Knockout: Eugh, Pontiacs. Zephra85: The city, not the mediocre car

thenightetc: ...It's funny he thought she was from somewhere arid, because Michigan is... pretty wet. spitshineandhammertime: soggy! thenightetc: Yeah. spitshineandhammertime: seeds! Knockout: It looks like someone set it on fire. thenightetc: They don't wonder where that came from? spitshineandhammertime: they're not spacicious enough spitshineandhammertime: I like the music! Zephra85: It's gorgeous Knockout: It sounds like the rain. thenightetc: eugh thenightetc: Skis!  I wonder if those are theirs or if they came with the house spitshineandhammertime: SPACICIOUS DOLL Zephra85: There was a picture of them on vactation somewhere rocky, the family seems pretty adventurous when they're not busy/working thenightetc: Ohhh, a button key Knockout: What a miserable mother. spitshineandhammertime: She has stuff hanging around her bed like me! Knockout: This is true! thenightetc: Woah thenightetc: The chat window separated Zephra85: Her picture-frame holder was a preying mantis! Zephra85: She has interesting stuff Knockout: Except for the hideous charred doll that watches you recharge. You don't have one of those. thenightetc: (Flash crashed and... that happened) spitshineandhammertime: nope! no creepy dolls for me! thenightetc: (I didn't know it could do that) thenightetc: ...it's creepy how it moves thenightetc: *LEEEEAAAAANS BACK* thenightetc: I would not eat that food thenightetc: This is obviously some kind of fairy situation here Zephra85: Never eat fae food spitshineandhammertime: ther other mom's not eating anything! SPACICIOUS thenightetc: Is that stitching Knockout: She could have let her have more than three bites. Knockout: ...Is three bites enough for humans? spitshineandhammertime: nuh-uh! humans need way more than three! spitshineandhammertime: i know this from experience! Zephra85: I think she was too unsettled to eat much more thenightetc: And the mud's gone, too!  And not smeared all over the blankets! Knockout: Convert that spread to Cybertronian fare and I'd eat it surrounded by decapitated, leering heads. spitshineandhammertime: magic tidy mud? spitshineandhammertime: HE WAS GONNA SAY BUTT thenightetc: "hey you need to keep your mice in your OWN apartment" Zephra85: AURGH spitshineandhammertime: mice warning! Zephra85: animals KNOW Lusey: fashionably late am I ;O spitshineandhammertime: \o Zephra85: Hello! thenightetc: Hi! Knockout: Hello there! Lusey: hi! How's everybody today thenightetc: ...aw man thenightetc: that's a little thenightetc: grim spitshineandhammertime: a hand! spitshineandhammertime: spooky fog! thenightetc: ...I wonder if that was hard to do with stop motion thenightetc: Or if they added it later...? Zephra85: Laika DOES add computer effects in their movies thenightetc: ...and the doll left in her place? thenightetc: I thought he said the doll was his Grandma's, or as old as Grandma, or something spitshineandhammertime: i think he said older than his grandma? Zephra85: Remember the beginning of the movie? Zephra85: The doll looked different thenightetc: ...That'd actually make more sense, yeah thenightetc: since it's being reused Zephra85: Somebody took off all the details and re-made it Knockout: Now see, that would be my clue to stop going through the sinister tunnel. thenightetc: So it *would* be older spitshineandhammertime: I'd listen to the mice! Knockout: Mice always know. Zephra85: Yeah but that's the thing about humans, especially adventurous humans Zephra85: Curiosity overpowers common sense thenightetc: That's a little......... alarming spitshineandhammertime: other mom's still not eating! thenightetc: Yeah.  The dad is, though thenightetc: !!! spitshineandhammertime: TAKING PEOPLE'S VOICES IS BAD, CORALINE thenightetc: Did she sew his mouth shut Zephra85: doesn't look like it Zephra85: ... yet Knockout: Maybe she took his tongue? thenightetc: Maybe it's glued shut thenightetc: It sort of looks like it Zephra85: IT POOPS POPCORN thenightetc: I definitely think he can't open his mouth thenightetc: ...if he HAS a mouth and it's not just like.  painted on thenightetc: "You don't mind if we all sit here and watch you sleep, right" Zephra85: 'UGH back in the real world' thenightetc: That's still so unsettling spitshineandhammertime: ...! spitshineandhammertime: it's like my air vents only mine aren't colorful and creepy! Zephra85: I think it's a bad sign when you start spending too much time away from the real world thenightetc: And hopefully aren't all.... soft. spitshineandhammertime: nope! not soft! spitshineandhammertime: just...big? kinda? small but big! Zephra85: This cat is so sassy thenightetc: I love the cat spitshineandhammertime: cats are GREAT Knockout: Sparks below, what's wrong with their mouths? thenightetc: The dogs'? Zephra85: weird little teeth thenightetc: I think the real ones have weird teeth, too Zephra85: Laika does NOT pull punches Knockout: ...I mean, to each their own ideal world? thenightetc: ..."nutritious"? thenightetc: "haha, something horrific!" Knockout: There's always a catch. spitshineandhammertime: YWA Zephra85: AhahahaihavetogolikenOW Thebes: That sure was pleasant thenightetc: WELL. spitshineandhammertime: BAD PIANO thenightetc: the worst thenightetc: ...well spitshineandhammertime: O_O Zephra85: HE SNAPPED ITS NECK thenightetc: He already sounded the alarm, though Zephra85: ... AND IT TURNED INTO A RAT thenightetc: ........nope Zephra85: yeeuch Zephra85: ... Her stars glow in the dark! Zephra85: I want that sweater spitshineandhammertime: glowy sweater! Zephra85: Having fun with the human tech yet, Knock Out? thenightetc: considering the other mother made that sweater, I don't think I'd trust it thenightetc: yarghhhh spitshineandhammertime: poor wybie! Zephra85: I always found it interesting that the Beldam's creations had wills of their own Knockout: The one thing she can't take from them? thenightetc: Maybe they have to, to be convincing spitshineandhammertime: KNITTING NEEDLES! thenightetc: That was unnecessarily alarming Zephra85: Oh now that's just sad Knockout: Oh, that was sad. thenightetc: it is spitshineandhammertime: 3:c Thebes: :< Lusey: my cat likes to do that Lusey: pap pap on the face spitshineandhammertime: mine too! thenightetc: GAH spitshineandhammertime: battle clothes! Zephra85: RESCUE MISSION TIME thenightetc: eugh, ti's all.... clothy thenightetc: Or like insulation thenightetc: ...Is he turning into a literal pumpkin Zephra85: Her magic/illusions are losing their lustre spitshineandhammertime: other dad 3:'( thenightetc: ...are they *powering* the... "wonders"? Zephra85: the essense of the children makes her magic stronger, perhaps Lusey: I need 20 of those Zephra85: Doggie-bats? Lusey: yeh Zephra85: Lookit 'em go! thenightetc: I guess they didn't want to be unmade. spitshineandhammertime: 3:'( Zephra85: Q_Q thenightetc: Gosh how tempting. Knockout: Except eyes, apparently. Zephra85: Laika legit does NOT pull punches on the creepy factor. thenightetc: nooooo spitshineandhammertime: CAT! 3:'D Zephra85: Sassy cat helped! thenightetc: Best cat thenightetc: ruuuuuude thenightetc: !!! spitshineandhammertime: GO CAT GO Zephra85: HER BUTTON EYES Zephra85: CLAWED 'EM RIGHT OFF thenightetc: GOOD Zephra85: intense spitshineandhammertime: i like her planet light! thenightetc: awww Zephra85: aww she got her the gloves spitshineandhammertime: cat forgiveness! Zephra85: d'aww Knockout: Rude. thenightetc: rude! Zephra85: Yeesh after all he did for you you could at LEAST clue him in on the plan thenightetc: Is even that enough, though Knockout: They couldn't just melt it down? spitshineandhammertime: they don't have a hot enough fireplace? thenightetc: Yeah, probably not Zephra85: Aaand Sassy Cat comes through for Coraline again! spitshineandhammertime: doggy has a pizza! thenightetc: That is a lot of tulips spitshineandhammertime: d'you think i could grow tulips? agooddistraction: Aw I missed it Zephra85: Wheeljack! Lusey: love this movie haha spitshineandhammertime: Wheeljack! 3:D thenightetc: Bet you could. :) agooddistraction: I was making out Knockout: I'm sure you could. We should look into getting some. spitshineandhammertime: out of what? agooddistraction: Hey kid spitshineandhammertime: YAY, TULIPS agooddistraction: Uh agooddistraction: Nevermind spitshineandhammertime: 3:o? Zephra85: Ohoho were you now >3 Lusey: with who :3c agooddistraction: 8) thenightetc: ...This music is familiar :o agooddistraction: With Bee Lusey: A+ nice thenightetc: This was good.  Thanks for streaming it! Knockout: My pleasure! spitshineandhammertime: Thanks, Papa~! Zephra85: Yes, thanks Knock Out! Knockout: Thank *you* all for dropping in! Thebes: thanks, it was fun! Lusey: always fun to watch with you guys ^^ Knockout: Have a good night, everyone! Watch out for suspicious buttons. Zephra85: Thanks for the stream! Zephra85: Say hi to Breakdown for me! spitshineandhammertime: We will! Knockout: Oh yes! Zephra85: Bye everybody!