#rotten poppet

[cupophrogs]

i want to grab ur ocs under their arms and make them dance like cat owners do with their cats

Ah! Thank you so much! Speaking of arms-

Poppet has none! They don't have any lips either...

You know how a tiger will gnaw off it's own leg to escape a trap? Well, the Minis certainly got a feast out of it! After taking a small vat of acid to the face and resisting the Prototype, Poppet was strung up with the rest of the Smiling Critters and left to the mercy of the Minis. So, despite the agony and the blood loss, Poppet chewed through sleeves and sinew until they were free. They've mostly been hiding in their box ever since.

Close ups!

Fun Fact: Poppet's box is hooked up to the Gas Production Zone, so it functions like a stasis chamber. Whenever Poppet is inside, the lid locks, and Poppet basically goes into hibernation. It's the only reason they haven't starved, and why the box must be wound to open! Turning the crank shuts off the gas so it doesn't leak when the box is opened. There is an internal mechanism so Poppet can get out without help, but it takes a break in the gas for them to be awake enough to pull it.

#Poppet got messed up man #my beloved rotten rabbit #and yes they absolutely left the rest of the Critters to die #not deliberately! don't get me wrong! #but they were afraid and already bleeding like hell #and how does one undo belts without arms? #All they could think about was getting away #Poppet was pretty friendly with everyone (except Catnap) #Poppet basically saw Catnap as “the problem child” lmao #They were besties with Hoppy though (Fellow bunnies y'know?) #Poppet did help a few of the critters later on! Hoppy survived the longest. #Catnap tore her apart personally #i adore them sm #poppet spring #rotten poppet #poppy playtime oc #poppy playtime #jester oc #oml y'all have NO IDEA how long the back image took #holy shit/pos #phrart #art #character design #the three d’s #armless #tw gore #cw gore #cw body horror #cw injury

[sakuravulpes]

✎ ( sponsor ღ Hallow Manor ) ՞₊˚๑ · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ Badwolf - Sophia Earrings FATPACK

ღ Silly Llama Productions presents Hallow Manor 2023 You can also check all the important links listed below. The event runs from October 13th - November 1st!

I'm wearing Sophia Earrings by Badwolf, they're stunning! The fatpack includes 3 designs, cross, pentagram and skull and a hud to change the color of the metals. They're unrigged so you can make them fit any head. You can see a closer look in the comments and blog.

✤ sɪʟʟʏ ʟʟᴀᴍᴀ sᴏ̨ᴜᴀᴅ ᴅɪsᴄᴏʀᴅ ✤ ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ's ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ ✤ sʜᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ɢᴀʟʟᴇʀʏ ✤ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅᴇsɪɢɴᴇʀs

✤ ʟᴀɴᴅᴍᴀʀᴋ ✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

✎ ( sponsor ღ Okinawa Panic of Pumpkin ) ՞₊˚๑ · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ :uzu: nia headdress - fatpack ★⸝⸝ [KRR] Rosetta set (FATPACK) ★⸝⸝ {-Maru Kado-} Cut well scissors ★⸝⸝ [Netherborn] - Alice HD Lips // LEL EVO X ★⸝⸝ [Netherborn] - Haedus Eyeshadow (10) // BOM EvoX

ღ Okinawa Panic of Pumpkin event brings us a ton of amazing and spooky items made by talented creators.

Nia headdress by Uzu is a beautiful piece of art, with a delicate lace and bat wings design, it's perfect for Halloween season, it's unrigged and color hud is included. I'm also wearing the gorgeous Rosetta dress by Kururu, it looks so nice! Fitted for Ebody Reborn, Teacups, Legacy, Perky, Maitreya and Petite, sleeves and dress sold separately and fatpack comes with a hud to mix and match with a ton of colors.

By Maru Kado, Cut Well Scissors is such an awesome accessory, I love the design. It's unisex and comes with 2 animations, 2 poses and texture change hud with 4 colors. By Netherborn, Alice lipstick looks stunning! 24 colors for Lelutka EvoX included, also BOM base to make them look perfect. I'm also wearing the Haedus eyeshadow, you will find 12 gorgeous colors in the pack and also eyeliners. You can see a closer look in the comments and blog.

✤ ʟᴀɴᴅᴍᴀʀᴋ ✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

✎ ( sponsor ღ DollHolic ) ՞₊˚๑ · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ LIVIA // Gemma Rings & Nail Rings ★⸝⸝ S H I M M / Lelutka Eyes Applier / CCXXV SET II

ღ I'm wearing CCXXV eyes by Shimm, they're nice, vibrant and look amazing. 4 sets available and 1 bonus for Lelutka EvoX and also BOM. You can see a closer look in the comments and blog. I'm also wearing the new Gemma Rings by Livia, such a beautiful accessory for your hands! They come with a hud to mix and match the metals and the gems.

✤ ʟᴀɴᴅᴍᴀʀᴋ ✤ ғʟɪᴄᴋʀ

Ahri ღ

✎ ( outfit & hair ) ՞₊˚๑ · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ torment. vidorra ★⸝⸝ [^.^Ayashi^.^] Shiina hair-Fatpack

✎ ( extras ) ՞₊˚๑ · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ rotten {carnal construct} inferno ★⸝⸝ polar<3bunny. ahegao blush. LeL Evox BoM Only! ★⸝⸝ polar<3bunny. blush fingers. style one ★⸝⸝ [REVERIE] Essentials Eyeliner Set [BOM\EvoX] ★⸝⸝ Poppet. (Love) Blush. Brows and Browless [VELOUR] ★⸝⸝ LeLUTKA Prim Head 3.1 ★⸝⸝ [LEGACY] Meshbody (f) Perky Edition [+] Petite (1.6)

✎ ( backdrop ) ՞₊˚๑ · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

★⸝⸝ K&S - Arcane Library. Skybox. at @Sunny Photo Studio

#Second Life #Hallow Manor #Badwolf #Okinawa #Panic of Pumpkin #Uzu #Kururu #Maru Kado #Netherborn #DollHolic #Livia #Shimm #Torment #Ayashi #Rotten #Polar Bunny #Reverie #Poppet

[lxvvie]

Maybe Simon going to a like a mandated knitting circle and just meets you.... as he is getting flirted with my grandmas (My what a strong boi)

Just imagine Simon meeting the reader through the knitting group and then it becomes a group-wide effort to push the two together because they'd be so cute as a couple. This is so sugary-sweet that I should write about it.

But anywho!

Simon was forced to go because the guys said he was "too on edge" and that he "needed a good stress reliever".

He's an anomaly in a sea of adorably gossipy meemaws who think it's absolutely delightful that some of the youth are still interested in knitting. And hey, at least he can learn to patch his shit up when it gets torn.

Because of this, he also experiences the following:

Being called everything from 'poppet', 'dearie', 'sweetheart', 'honey', and... Silas (he lets it slide because what the hell). Flusters him more than he cares to admit.

Getting the latest gossip. If Simon thought shit on base was scandalous, the stuff he hears in his knitting group of ALL places took the fucking cake.

Finding camaraderie in their life stories; some of the women he met had close family members who served and/or they served themselves.

Said adorable meemaws playing matchmaker. Oh yeah, they have plenty of grandkids and grandniblings who would love a strapping young man such as him. Oh, fucking hell...

Simon finds out that some of the women have taken to jokingly calling him their "knitting husband". He may or may not have considered giving them Price's number in revenge lmao.

Never going without baked goods. Ever. Fuck, they're spoiling him rotten with all the sweets they send him home with.

Becoming more attached to the group than he expected; Ghost continues to go long after he's required to. Imagine the look on everyone else's faces when Simon leaves for their meeting saying that he has to go see about his girls. Or something like that. The fuck's so funny, Johnny?

#knitting simon au #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x you #x black reader #call of duty x black reader #cod x black reader

[ckret2]

Masterpost for Bill "Goldilocks" Cipher fic

If you're new here, this is one of those fics where Bill comes back in a human body and is imprisoned in the Mystery Shack until the Pines & friends can figure out how to kill him (which they won't, because this is also a "Bill's redeemed through the power of improbable friendship" fic). The "Goldilocks" is because the Pines need a code name other than "Bill Cipher" to call their prisoner, and Bill liked Mabel's suggestion best.

For all my fic, art, doodles, upcoming scene excerpts, and posts about characterization & plot plans, see my #bill goldilocks cipher tag.

New chapter every Friday!

For just the fic itself, here are all the current chapters:

⛓️ 1. Bill returns, in a bedsheet toga.

⛓️ 2. Bill tries to murder the Stans and Soos (with time travel).

⛓️ 3. Dipper and Mabel save the day (with time travel).

⛓️ 4. A tense evening as the Pines prepare to get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 5. Plot twist: the Pines physically can't get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 6. The gang goes to a diner at 3 a.m. for hostage negotiations.

⛓️ 7. "How'd Bill get here" flashback; plus, entering his new prison.

💇‍♀️ 8. Bill gives himself a haircut and depression.

💇‍♀️ 9. Bill & Ford grudgingly have a sincere conversation; regret it.

💇‍♀️ 10. The kids decide Bill won't ruin their summer. Also: Pacifica!

🧚 11. Mabel gives Bill the most beautiful makeover ever. (It's not.)

🧚 12. Pacifica advertises Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula. Bill wants it.

🧚 13. Pacifica refuses to share; the twins discover its side effects.

🧚 14. Mabel wins Bill's eternal friendship with arts & crafts.

💭 15. Bill, Ford, and Dipper have nightmares that are Bill's fault.

💎 16. Ford has a fun day with Mabel but everything goes wrong.

💎 17. The day goes right again thanks to healthy communication.

🐿️ 18. Mabel's Guide To Local Animals, co-starring Bill Cipher.

🧊 19. Wendy snoops into the weird things happening in the shack.

🧊 20. Wendy meets the weird thing (it's Bill).

🎂 21. Stan & Ford's birthday party! Bill gives evil gifts.

💭 22. Bill "helps" Dipper's nightmares; no one knows his motive.

👁️ 23. Bill's ex is back in town and nobody's happy about it.

👁️ 24. Everyone's even less happy to learn Bill has a sex life.

🧿 25. Mabel and Bill make friendship bracelets! :)

🧿 26. The Pines take Bill to the mall. He wears terrible things.

🧿 27. Bill breaks Mabel's heart (and panics to fix it).

🏳️‍🌈 28. Bill talks his way into going with Wendy to Rainbow Club.

🎃 29. Bill contacts the Henchmaniacs on Summerween morning.

🎃 30. Costume making. Mabel pries into Bill's past, with crayons.

🎃 31. The Trickster's pals trick-or-treat; and Bill terrifies Dipper.

🪮 32. Dipper & Mabel make a poppet to control Bill.

🦷 33. Stan takes Bill to the dentist. In handcuffs.

🦷 34. Dentist & tooth fairy attack. Stan & Bill are still handcuffed.

🦷 35. Bill & Stan reach a painful understanding and stop the fairy.

🛁 36. Anime night; and Mabel makes Bill do community service.

🛁 37. Bill plots escape and runs into Wendy. Dipper panics.

🛁 38. Bill has the worst and stupidest day of his afterlife.

🌅 39. A cultist finds Bill; Bill tries to re-recruit Ford.

🚙 40. Gideon broadcasts car commercials; invokes Bill's wrath.

🚙 41. Bill apologizes for bullying Gideon. lol no he blackmails him.

🌕 42. Bill tells Dipper secrets of the universe; predicts an eclipse.

🌖 43. Gravity is disappearing; Ford and Fiddleford investigate.

🌗 44. Ford & Dipper drag Bill hiking; Bill faces his death.

🌘 45. Ford demands answers Bill can't give as totality looms.

🌑 46. Totality. Bill decides whether Ford lives or dies.

🌒 47. Bill feels rotten but finally explains the eclipse.

🌓 48. Bill has a complete mental breakdown.

🌔 49. The gang limps home. (Plus: a second dimensional eclipse.)

COMING SOON:

50. Bill finally processes that mental breakdown.

This fic will start crossposting to Ao3 after The Book Of Bill comes out, because I have my fingers crossed that I'll be able to make it TBOB-compatible with light edits but won't know til then. Until then, read it here!

This post was last updated April 27, 2024! If you're seeing this post as a reblog and it's been a while since then, check back on the original post to see if more's been added!

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #about my writing #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #reference

[eldritch-spouse]

In lieu of the new icon that Pinnie-up has decided to put up--

Vinnel walks in on his poppet humping a Vinnel plushie that is torn, battered and bruised. Like, stitches and buttons and stab wounds are visible on it, stuffing is falling out of it and it is stained with their cum. Lmao.

["Pinnie-up" ahdhaebepffff-]

His first thought is to panic inwardly immediately.

Some of those things are rigged by him on purpose. The whole merch thing really is more of a game. Buy one, hope it's not rigged with lethal projectile explosives or use it to kill someone! Fun all around.

That being said, only a minority of them are safe to be handled for long periods of time, so Vinnel is horrified that you could have killed yourself by now with that stunt. Then his brain catches up, and he realizes he doesn't actually put any of the rigged models in his own room, so the one you're ruining is probably safe.

If you didn't already guess it, Vinnel is absolutely fucking laughing his rotten lungs off. You're going to get mocked so viciously it's going to have your cheeks aflame and tears most definitely running down your face. The jester isn't particularly bothered by the state of the plush, what you do to it doesn't matter to him, but boy is he going to use this to keep getting you at the brink of tears.

Sometimes Vinnel will just flop on the bed and starfish. " Go ahead, you little pervert, hump! " He'll say.

Thing is, he hasn't exactly planned for the off-chance scenario where you do just start grinding on him.

#Vinnel oc

[pacifymebby]

I’ve had the WORST day and I just know that a big snuggly bear hug from Alfie would fix me!

I hope u are okay bestie love u xxx

🐻 Alfie anon

Aww bestie no what's happened come rant to me!!!

Also, u didn't ask but...

🐻 Alfie is so in tune with your emotions that at around 11 o'clock that morning he just had a sense that something was wrong, that you were having a bad day. He would have been scowling about it all morning knowing there was nothing he could do until he saw you that evening...

🐻 and as the day progressed and your day got worse his day got worse too so that by the time he could finally go home to you he was certain you must be truly miserable.

🐻 so on his way home he swipes a bottle of Solomons best rum and stops at several stalls down Camden market before he returning to you. It means it takes him slightly longer to get home and that does irritate him because he's anxious to get home to make sure you're alright...

🐻 and when he does get home he finds you in the kitchen, you look so tired out it breaks his heart, he can see it in your eyes that you're upset, so frustrated you're on the verge of tears and before you can say anything he's set the flowers he brought for you down on the table with the rum and your favourite sweet treat from the bakery which he waited an extra ten minutes for so that it would be fresh and warm.

🐻 When he approaches you he's gentle, let's out a sigh and opens up his long coat to welcome you into a cosy embrace. He closed it around you and hugs you snug and tight letting you bury your face in his shirt.

🐻 it doesn't take very long for you to start crying and when you try to stop yourself and say sorry he just shushes you.

🐻 "now now ziskeit, we'll have none of that, this is what am here for ain't it poppet so you just carry on an let it all out alright my little ziskeit," he hushes you talking gently as he keeps you snug and wrapped up in his coat, your head held against his chest as he bows his and kisses your forehead.

🐻 he'll hold you for as long as it takes for you to get your frustration and tears out of your system shushing you and kissing your head until you've stopped crying. When you're just sniffling and wiping your eyes he'll catch your hands in his and brush the last of your tears away with his thumbs before letting you go from his coat. You don't really want to let go and he doesn't really want to let you go but he's got plans, knows exactly how to relax you after a difficult day...

🐻 "Don't you look at me like that ziskeit," he told you waggling his finger at you with a teasing little smile, "cause see I reckon I know exactly how to cheer you up yeah, after your long an 'orrible day right and my plans do unfortunately involve you letting go of me for a minute or two yeah? I know poppet I know, pains me too really and truly it's agony yeah, right here I feel it right here.." he says prodding himself in the chest to emphasise his point before catching your cheek in his hand and brushing his thumb over your skin, making you look up at him when he finishes his orders, "but I promise you it'll be worth it so... Go and get the blankets yeah, and Cyril get Cyril... Can't let our old boy miss out on this alright..."

🐻 so you do as your told, fetching the blankets from your bed, bringing Cyril down following your footsteps to the little living room where Alfie's set the fire going and closed the curtains. It's dimly lit and the heat of the fire flushes your cheeks. He' plated up your baked goods and poured two glasses of rum, brought the bottle in too.

🐻 "Ahh, there she is," he sighs dramatically when he sees you, "light of my life, my sun my stars my darling angel from on high," he says layering it on thick trying to make you squirm and blush just so he can see you smile. "Come here ziskeit, come sit in your old man's lap poppet, come tell papa all about that 'orrible rotten day of yours" he says patting his lap, waiting for you to come sit in his lap.

🐻 He feels so much better once he has you cradled to his chest, he's certain he won't be letting you up for the rest of the evening. Just wants to keep you snuggled up in his lap wrapped up in your blankets getting drunk on good rum.

🐻 "See now this is better ain't it poppet, what did I tell you eh ziskeit, you come to papa and he'll make it all better right..."

🐻 cyril would be snuggled up by your feet and he'd like nudge you with his head and let out s big huff of a sigh as if to agree that everything sucks but he's here for you too. A real ally.

🐻 He'll let you rant all about how bad your day was, encouraging you to say the bitchiest things about all the people who upset you, then teasing you for saying such bad things when you're supposed to be the sweet one. Really though he's just trying to make you smile, trying to light you up the way he likes to see you.

🐻 will pay special attention to the names of those who wronged you throughout the day, will jokingly offer to murder them for you but honestly... If something bad happens to any one of these people in the next week you will be wondering whether your Alfie had anything to do with it.

For reals bestie I hope you're feeling s little bit better after this and just know u can rant to me about Ur bad day whenever u like xxx

[eggy-computer]

"Begone, Transphobe!"

Curse a terf! in minecraft! (actually!)

You'll need:

a working copy of minecraft

in game:

redstone dust

white candles

campfire

black shulker box

a book and quill with your intent written inside (i wrote "May any terfs, transphobes, or any one else intending to cause harm against the lgbt community be harmed threefold")

a "poppet" (a totem of undying or mob head labeled "transphobe")

spider's eye

rotten flesh

wither rose

moon water (made by leaving a cauldron of water in the moonlight overnight)

a black candle

cast a "circle" by laying redstone down in a square around your desired area, place and light white candles in the corners of the square

to smoke cleanse, place a campfire

dig down a few blocks and place the shulker box

fill box with "poppet", book, spider's eye, rotten flesh, and wither rose. focus on your intent

place grass box on top of shulker box, effectively burying it

place a black candle on top of the burial site to "seal" it, and close your circle. opt: place redstone around the candle for extra potency

also!! dont do a curse if you dont feel prepared enough to do so/dont feel safe doing so!!

alternatively, you can do a protection spell to help protect trans people!!

real witches know that trans rights are human rights!

#pit chatters #spell #trans rights #transgender #trans rights are human rights #grimoire #tech spell #minecraft magick #minecraft #tumblr witches #chaos witch #chaos magick #eclectic witch #tech witch #technology witch #techno witchcraft #techno witch #witchblr

[arcane-abomination]

DISCLAIMER: I don’t follow the rule of 3 nor any real system of divine judgment.

This is Hex I’ve done that I typically use for exacting revenge on a particular person for various reasons. This method gives the caster control over how long and how bad the Hex effects the intended person. When this individual has proven they’ve learned from their wicked ways or the user feels they’ve had enough punishment they can easily break the hex.

Keep in mind that this is a spell that does allow for some level of customization but it is also a spell that requires your attention for multiple days. It’s not something to just be left alone completely or the energy could get stagnant. So only do this if you can spend at least a few minutes a day catering to this Hex.

The Supplies

A doll (I propose making a simple one out of felt)

A picture or petition of the person with their full name and/or birthday

Broken glass, nails, and other sharp objects

A pin or needle

Red marker (if the doll is too dark in color you can substitute with red thread)

Devils Powder (this is generally made up of salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper, chili flakes, lemon peel, anything that’s hot or burns really)

The Process

First things first. I recommend cleansing your space, and tools. You don’t want residual energy sticking to them and affecting your work. Next, I like to tell my tools what they will be doing but that’s up to the individual.

Now get the doll ready. Cut open the doll down the middle and remove it’s stuffing. If you are making your doll from scratch simply stitch it together like normal but leave out any stuffing. Then simply cut open the chest cavity. (Some people like to fill at least the arms and the legs. If you must do this don’t use cotton or anything soft. Use gravel or sand. This can make the individual feel weighted down by their own actions)

The next step is to read the picture and/or petition. Remember to write out on the back of the picture the persons full name and birthday if you can. If you don’t know their birthday that’s alright but having at least their full name is highly advised. You’ll then fold the paper. Since you’re bringing energy into them fold out inwards. When you’re finished place it in the doll s chest cavity. Note you can awaken the tag lock by joining the energy of that person to the doll. Here is the method that I use:

“This doll is now __________.”

“This body is their body.”

<Touch the dolls body>

“This is their breath”

<Breath on the doll >

“What this doll feels they will feel. What is cast onto this doll is hereby cast onto them.”

At this time you will start placing in your sharp objects. Please be careful. If you cut yourself on one DON’T use it in this ritual. Don’t mix your blood with this poppet or you can effect yourself with this course as well. Now, as you’re adding it in you may wish to use an affirmation. A good example would be something like:

“Pain plagues your body for the hurt you have caused.”

Of course you can change this up as you see fit.

Next add in the Devils powder. Again it’s a good time to say some sort of affirmation.

“A burning pain manifests in your bones, your muscles, and your organs. It keeps you in anguish to reflect that which you’ve brought into others.”

At this time you can further add anything else that you like. Put in rotten food to symbolize weakness or their deteriorating health. Or add in any insect exoskeletons for illness or further pain. Also say any further affirmations that you feel you need to. Then when finished stitch up the chest cavity and Mark an X over where the heart would be. This can be done with the red marker or additional red thread.

Say this final affirmation with force and conviction while plunging the needle into the center of the X

“With this, the sharp pain of regret overcomes your heart.”

Set the doll somewhere dark, dank, and alone. A place that not many people will go. Perhaps a shoebox in the hall closet, or in the garage? Just be sure it is a place that you can easily find it again. Like I said at the beginning, you will be going back to this doll for a few minutes everyday. You’re going to be repeating the final action again each time. Either wiggling around the pin or pulling it out a little just to stab it in again. You will also say the last affirmation each time. This ensures that the regret plagues them everyday so that they can barely focus or function on anything else and are forced to reflect.

When you feel that they have had enough you will take the doll and pull out the pin (don’t put it back in), and say this affirmation:

“The pain is gone from in your heart, and your body. My vengeance is quelled.”

Lastly you need to break the bonded attachment. Open the doll and pull out the picture/petition. And declare:

“What once was one, is now again two. You are no longer tired to this doll.”

I burn the picture and the doll afterwards to finalize the end. Then I scatter the ashes to the wind to take the energy to them.

#paganism #pagans of tumblr #witchcraft #chaos magick #sigil magic #chaos magician #poppet #hex #baneful witch #banefull #baneful magic #eldritch witch #witches of tumblr

[sasster]

to cylion: Your soul is rotten to the core and therefor I shall not be showing you my penis good night to you

"Poppet needs to shore up our security."

#cylion #anonymous #askter

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

It Can't Happen Here, Sinclair Lewis

Chapter 21-22

CHAPTER XXI

IT was not only the November sleet, setting up a forbidding curtain before the mountains, turning the roadways into slipperiness on which a car would swing around and crash into poles, that kept Doremus stubbornly at home that morning, sitting on his shoulder blades before the fireplace. It was the feeling that there was no point in going to the office; no chance even of a picturesque fight. But he was not contented before the fire. He could find no authentic news even in the papers from Boston or New York, in both of which the morning papers had been combined by the government into one sheet, rich in comic strips, in syndicated gossip from Hollywood, and, indeed, lacking only any news.

He cursed, threw down the New York Daily Corporate, and tried to read a new novel about a lady whose husband was indelicate in bed and who was too absorbed by the novels he wrote about lady novelists whose husbands were too absorbed by the novels they wrote about lady novelists to appreciate the fine sensibilities of lady novelists who wrote about gentleman novelists—Anyway, he chucked the book after the newspaper. The lady's woes didn't seem very important now, in a burning world.

He could hear Emma in the kitchen discussing with Mrs. Candy the best way of making a chicken pie. They talked without relief; really, they were not so much talking as thinking aloud. Doremus admitted that the nice making of a chicken pie was a thing of consequence, but the blur of voices irritated him. Then Sissy slammed into the room, and Sissy should an hour ago have been at high school, where she was a senior—to graduate next year and possibly go to some new and horrible provincial university.

"What ho! What are you doing home? Why aren't you in school?"

"Oh. That." She squatted on the padded fender seat, chin in hands, looking up at him, not seeing him. "I don't know 's I'll ever go there any more. You have to repeat a new oath every morning: 'I pledge myself to serve the Corporate State, the Chief, all Commissioners, the Mystic Wheel, and the troops of the Republic in every thought and deed.' Now I ask you! Is that tripe!"

"How you going to get into the university?"

"Huh! Smile at Prof Staubmeyer—if it doesn't gag me!"

"Oh, well—Well—" He could not think of anything meatier to say.

The doorbell, a shuffling in the hall as of snowy feet, and Julian Falck came sheepishly in.

Sissy snapped, "Well, I'll be—What are you doing home? Why aren't you in Amherst?"

"Oh. that." He squatted beside her. He absently held her hand, and she did not seem to notice it, either. "Amherst's got hers. Corpos closing it today. I got tipped off last Saturday and beat it. (They have a cute way of rounding up the students when they close a college and arresting a few of 'em, just to cheer up the profs.)" To Doremus: "Well, sir, I think you'll have to find a place for me on the Informer, wiping presses. Could you?"

"Afraid not, boy. Give anything if I could. But I'm a prisoner there. God! Just having to say that makes me appreciate what a rotten position I have!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I understand, of course. Well, I don't just know what I am going to do. Remember back in '33 and '34 and '35 how many good eggs there were—and some of them medics and law graduates and trained engineers and so on—that simply couldn't get a job? Well, it's worse now. I looked over Amherst, and had a try at Springfield, and I've been here in town two days—I'd hoped to have something before I saw you, Sis—why, I even asked Mrs. Pike if she didn't need somebody to wash dishes at the Tavern, but so far there isn't a thing. 'Young gentleman, two years in college, ninety-nine-point-three pure and thorough knowledge Thirty-nine Articles, able drive car, teach tennis and contract, amiable disposition, desires position—digging ditches.'"

"You will get something! I'll see you do, my poppet!" insisted Sissy. She was less modernistic and cold with Julian now than Doremus had thought her.

"Thanks, Sis, but honest to God—I hope I'm not whining, but looks like I'd either have to enlist in the lousy M.M.'s, or go to a labor camp. I can't stay home and sponge on Granddad. The poor old Reverend hasn't got enough to keep a pussycat in face powder."

"Lookit! Lookit!" Sissy clinched with Julian and bussed him, unabashed. "I've got an idea—a new stunt. You know, one of these 'New Careers for Youth' things. Listen! Last summer there was a friend of Lindy Pike's staying with her and she was an interior decorator from Buffalo, and she said they have a hell of a—"

("Siss-sy!")

"—time getting real, genuine, old hand-hewn beams that everybody wants so much now in these phony-Old-English suburban living rooms. Well, look! Round here there's ten million old barns with hand-adzed beams just falling down—farmers probably be glad to have you haul 'em off. I kind of thought about it for myself—being an architect, you know—and John Pollikop said he'd sell me a swell, dirty-looking old five-ton truck for four hundred bucks—in pre-inflation real money, I mean—and on time. Let's you and me try a load of assorted fancy beams."

"Swell!" said Julian.

"Well—" said Doremus.

"Come on!" Sissy leaped up. "Let's go ask Lindy what she thinks. She's the only one in this family that's got any business sense."

"I don't seem to hanker much after going out there in this weather— nasty roads," Doremus puffed.

"Nonsense, Doremus! With Julian driving? He's a poor speller and his back-hand is fierce, but as a driver, he's better than I am! Why, it's a pleasure to skid with him! Come on! Hey, Mother! We'll be back in nour or two."

If Emma ever got beyond her distant, "Why, I thought you were in school, already," none of the three musketeers heard it. They were bundling up and crawling out into the sleet.

Lorinda Pike was in the Tavern kitchen, in a calico print with rolled sleeves, dipping doughnuts into deep fat—a picture right out of the romantic days (which Buzz Windrip was trying to restore) when a female who had brought up eleven children and been midwife to dozens of cows was regarded as too fragile to vote. She was ruddy-faced from the stove, but she cocked a lively eye at them, and her greeting was "Have a doughnut? Good!" She led them from the kitchen with its attendant and eavesdropping horde of a Canuck kitchenmaid and two cats, and they sat in the beautiful butler's- pantry, with its shelved rows of Italian majolica plates and cups and saucers—entirely unsuitable to Vermont, attesting a certain artiness in Lorinda, yet by their cleanness and order revealing her as a sound worker. Sissy sketched her plan—behind the statistics there was an agreeable picture of herself and Julian, gipsies in khaki, on the seat of a gipsy truck, peddling silvery old pine rafters.

"Nope. Not a chance," said Lorinda regretfully. "The expensive suburban-villa business—oh, it isn't gone: there's a surprising number of middlemen and professional men who are doing quite well out of having their wealth taken away and distributed to the masses. But all the building is in the hands of contractors who are in politics—good old Windrip is so consistently American that he's kept up all our traditional graft, even if he has thrown out all our traditional independence. They wouldn't leave you one cent profit."

"She's probably right," said Doremus.

"Be the first time I ever was, then!" sniffed Lorinda. "Why, I was so simple that I thought women voters knew men too well to fall for noble words on the radio!"

They sat in the sedan, outside the Tavern; Julian and Sissy in front, Doremus in the back seat, dignified and miserable in mummy swathings.

"That's that," said Sissy. "Swell period for young dreamers the Dictator's brought in. You can march to military bands—or you can sit home—or you can go to prison. Primavera di Bellezza!"

"Yes.... Well, I'll find something to do.... Sissy, are you going to marry me—soon as I get a job?"

(It was incredible, thought Doremus, how these latter-day unsentimental sentimentalists could ignore him.... Like animals.)

"Before, if you want to. Though marriage seems to me absolute rot now, Julian. They can't go and let us see that every doggone one of our old institutions is a rotten fake, the way Church and State and everything has laid down to the Corpos, and still expect us to think they're so hot! But for unformed minds like your grandfather and Doremus, I suppose we'll have to pretend to believe that the preachers who stand for Big Chief Windrip are still so sanctified that they can sell God's license to love!"

("Sis-sy!")

"(Oh. I forgot you were there, Dad!) But anyway, we're not going to have any kids. Oh, I like children! I'd like to have a dozen of the little devils around. But if people have gone so soft and turned the world over to stuffed shirts and dictators, they needn't expect any decent woman to bring children into such an insane asylum! Why, the more you really do love children, the more you'll want 'em not to be born, now!"

Julian boasted, in a manner quite as lover-like and naïve as that of any suitor a hundred years ago, "Yes. But just the same, we'll be having children."

"Hell! I suppose so!" said the golden girl.

It was the unconsidered Doremus who found a job for Julian.

Old Dr. Marcus Olmsted was trying to steel himself to carry on the work of his sometime partner, Fowler Greenhill. He was not strong enough for much winter driving, and so hotly now did he hate the murderers of his friend that he would not take on any youngster who was in the M.M.'s or who had half acknowledged their authority by going to a labor camp. So Julian was chosen to drive him, night and day, and presently to help him by giving anesthetic, bandaging hurt legs; and the Julian who had within one week "decided that he wanted to be" an aviator, a music critic, an air-conditioning engineer, an archæologist excavating in Yucatan, was dead-set on medicine and replaced for Doremus his dead doctor son-in-law. And Doremus heard Julian and Sissy boasting and squabbling and squeaking in the half-lighted parlor and from them—from them and from David and Lorinda and Buck Titus—got resolution enough to go on in the Informer office without choking Staubmeyer to death.

CHAPTER XXII

DECEMBER 10th was the birthday of Berzelius Windrip, though in his earlier days as a politician, before he fruitfully realized that lies sometimes get printed and unjustly remembered against you, he had been wont to tell the world that his birthday was on December twenty-fifth, like one whom he admitted to be an even greater leader, and to shout, with real tears in his eyes, that his complete name was Berzelius Noel Weinacht Windrip.

His birthday in 1937 he commemorated by the historical "Order of Regulation," which stated that though the Corporate government had proved both its stability and its good-will, there were still certain stupid or vicious "elements" who, in their foul envy of Corpo success, wanted to destroy everything that was good. The kind-hearted government was fed-up, and the country was informed that, from this day on, any person who by word or act sought to harm or discredit the State, would be executed or interned. Inasmuch as the prisons were already too full, both for these slanderous criminals and for the persons whom the kind-hearted State had to guard by "protective arrest," there were immediately to be opened, all over the country, concentration camps.

Doremus guessed that the reason for the concentration camps was not only the provision of extra room for victims but, even more, the provision of places where the livelier young M.M.'s could amuse themselves without interference from old-time professional policemen and prison-keepers, most of whom regarded their charges not as enemies, to be tortured, but just as cattle, to be kept safely.

On the eleventh, a concentration camp was enthusiastically opened, with band music, paper flowers, and speeches by District Commissioner Reek and Shad Ledue, at Trianon, nine miles north of Fort Beulah, in what had been a modern experimental school for girls. (The girls and their teachers, no sound material for Corpoism anyway, were simply sent about their business.)

And on that day and every day afterward, Doremus got from journalist friends all over the country secret news of Corpo terrorism and of the first bloody rebellions against the Corpos.

In Arkansas, a group of ninety-six former sharecroppers, who had always bellyached about their misfortunes yet seemed not a bit happier in well-run, hygienic labor camps with free weekly band concerts, attacked the superintendent's office at one camp and killed the superintendent and five assistants. They were rounded up by an M.M. regiment from Little Rock, stood up in a winter-ragged cornfield, told to run, and shot in the back with machine guns as they comically staggered away.

In San Francisco, dock-workers tried to start an absolutely illegal strike, and their leaders, known to be Communists, were so treasonable in their speeches against the government that an M.M. commander had three of them tied up to a bale of rattan, which was soaked with oil and set afire. The Commander gave warning to all such malcontents by shooting off the criminals' fingers and ears while they were burning, and so skilled a marksman was he, so much credit to the efficient M.M. training, that he did not kill one single man while thus trimming them up. He afterward went in search of Tom Mooney (released by the Supreme Court of the United States, early in 1936), but that notorious anti-Corpo agitator had had the fear of God put into him properly, and had escaped on a schooner for Tahiti.

In Pawtucket, a man who ought to have been free from the rotten seditious notions of such so-called labor-leaders, in fact a man who was a fashionable dentist and director in a bank, absurdly resented the attentions which half-a-dozen uniformed M.M.'s—they were all on leave, and merely full of youthful spirits, anyway— bestowed upon his wife at a café and, in the confusion, shot and killed three of them. Ordinarily, since it was none of the public's business anyway, the M.M.'s did not give out details of their disciplining of rebels, but in this case, where the fool of a dentist had shown himself to be a homicidal maniac, the local M.M. commander permitted the papers to print the fact that the dentist had been given sixty-nine lashes with a flexible steel rod, then, when he came to, left to think over his murderous idiocy in a cell in which there was two feet of water in the bottom—but, rather ironically, none to drink. Unfortunately, the fellow died before having the opportunity to seek religious consolation.

In Scranton, the Catholic pastor of a working-class church was kidnaped and beaten.

In central Kansas, a man named George W. Smith pointlessly gathered a couple of hundred farmers armed with shotguns and sporting rifles and an absurdly few automatic-pistols, and led them in burning an M.M. barracks. M.M. tanks were called out, and the hick would-be rebels were not, this time, used as warnings, but were overcome with mustard gas, then disposed of with hand grenades, which was an altogether intelligent move, since there was nothing of the scoundrels left for sentimental relatives to bury and make propaganda over.

But in New York City the case was the opposite—instead of being thus surprised, the M.M.'s rounded up all suspected Communists in the former boroughs of Manhattan and the Bronx, and all persons who were reported to have been seen consorting with such Communists, and interned the lot of them in the nineteen concentration camps on Long Island.... Most of them wailed that they were not Communists at all.

For the first time in America, except during the Civil War and the World War, people were afraid to say whatever came to their tongues. On the streets, on trains, at theaters, men looked about to see who might be listening before they dared so much as say there was a drought in the West, for someone might suppose they were blaming the drought on the Chief! They were particularly skittish about waiters, who were supposed to listen from the ambush which every waiter carries about with him anyway, and to report to the M.M.'s. People who could not resist talking politics spoke of Windrip as "Colonel Robinson" or "Dr. Brown" and of Sarason as "Judge Jones" or "my cousin Kaspar," and you would hear gossips hissing "Shhh!" at the seemingly innocent statement, "My cousin doesn't seem to be as keen on playing bridge with the Doctor as he used to—I'll bet sometime they'll quit playing."

Every moment everyone felt fear, nameless and omnipresent. They were as jumpy as men in a plague district. Any sudden sound, any unexplained footstep, any unfamiliar script on an envelope, made them startle; and for months they never felt secure enough to let themselves go, in complete sleep. And with the coming of fear went out their pride.

Daily—common now as weather reports—were the rumors of people who had suddenly been carried off "under protective arrest," and daily more of them were celebrities. At first the M.M.'s had, outside of the one stroke against Congress, dared to arrest only the unknown and defenseless. Now, incredulously—for these leaders had seemed invulnerable, above the ordinary law—you heard of judges, army officers, ex-state governors, bankers who had not played in with the Corpos, Jewish lawyers who had been ambassadors, being carted off to the common stink and mud of the cells.

To the journalist Doremus and his family it was not least interesting that among these imprisoned celebrities were so many journalists: Raymond Moley, Frank Simonds, Frank Kent, Heywood Broun, Mark Sullivan, Earl Browder, Franklin P. Adams, George Seldes, Frazier Hunt, Garet Garrett, Granville Hicks, Edwin James, Robert Morss Lovett—men who differed grotesquely except in their common dislike of being little disciples of Sarason and Macgoblin.

Few writers for Hearst were arrested, however.

The plague came nearer to Doremus when unrenowned editors in Lowell and Providence and Albany, who had done nothing more than fail to be enthusiastic about the Corpos, were taken away for "questioning," and not released for weeks—months.

It came much nearer at the time of the book-burning.

All over the country, books that might threaten the Pax Romana of the Corporate State were gleefully being burned by the more scholarly Minute Men. This form of safeguarding the State—so modern that it had scarce been known prior to A.D. 1300—was instituted by Secretary of Culture Macgoblin, but in each province the crusaders were allowed to have the fun of picking out their own paper-and-ink traitors. In the Northeastern Province, Judge Effingham Swan and Dr. Owen J. Peaseley were appointed censors by Commissioner Dewey Haik, and their index was lyrically praised all through the country.

For Swan saw that it was not such obvious anarchists and soreheads as Darrow, Steffens, Norman Thomas, who were the real danger; like rattlesnakes, their noisiness betrayed their venom. The real enemies were men whose sanctification by death had appallingly permitted them to sneak even into respectable school libraries—men so perverse that they had been traitors to the Corpo State years and years before there had been any Corpo State; and Swan (with Peaseley chirping agreement) barred from all sale or possession the books of Thoreau, Emerson, Whittier, Whitman, Mark Twain, Howells, and The New Freedom, by Woodrow Wilson, for though in later life Wilson became a sound manipulative politician, he had earlier been troubled with itching ideals.

It goes without saying that Swan denounced all such atheistic foreigners, dead or alive, as Wells, Marx, Shaw, the Mann brothers, Tolstoy, and P. G. Wodehouse with his unscrupulous propaganda against the aristocratic tradition. (Who could tell? Perhaps, some day, in a corporate empire, he might be Sir Effingham Swan, Bart.)

And in one item Swan showed blinding genius—he had the foresight to see the peril of that cynical volume, The Collected Sayings of Will Rogers.

Of the book-burnings in Syracuse and Schenectady and Hartford, Doremus had heard, but they seemed improbable as ghost stories.

The Jessup family were at dinner, just after seven, when on the porch they heard the tramping they had half expected, altogether dreaded. Mrs. Candy—even the icicle, Mrs. Candy, held her breast in agitation before she stalked out to open the door. Even David sat at table, spoon suspended in air.

Shad's voice, "In the name of the Chief!" Harsh feet in the hall, and Shad waddling into the dining room, cap on, hand on pistol, but grinning, and with leering geniality bawling, "H' are yuh, folks! Search for bad books. Orders of the District Commissioner. Come on, Jessup!" He looked at the fireplace to which he had once brought so many armfuls of wood, and snickered.

"If you'll just sit down in the other room—"

"I will like hell 'just sit down in the other room'! We're burning the books tonight! Snap to it, Jessup!" Shad looked at the exasperated Emma; he looked at Sissy; he winked with heavy deliberation and chuckled, "H' are you, Mis' Jessup. Hello, Sis. How's the kid?"

But at Mary Greenhill he did not look, nor she at him.

In the hall, Doremus found Shad's entourage, four sheepish M.M.'s and a more sheepish Emil Staubmeyer, who whimpered, "Just orders— you know—just orders."

Doremus safely said nothing; led them up to his study.

Now a week before he had removed every publication that any sane Corpo could consider radical: his Das Kapital and Veblen and all the Russian novels and even Sumner's Folkways and Freud's Civilization and Its Discontents; Thoreau and the other hoary scoundrels banned by Swan; old files of the Nation and New Republic and such copies as he had been able to get of Walt Trowbridge's Lance for Democracy; had removed them and hidden them inside an old horsehair sofa in the upper hall.

"I told you there was nothing," said Staubmeyer, after the search. "Let's go."

Said Shad, "Huh! I know this house, Ensign. I used to work here— had the privilege of putting up those storm windows you can see there, and of getting bawled out right here in this room. You won't remember those times, Doc—when I used to mow your lawn, too, and you used to be so snotty!" Staubmeyer blushed. "You bet. I know my way around, and there's a lot of fool books downstairs in the sittin' room."

Indeed in that apartment variously called the drawing room, the living room, the sittin' room, the Parlor and once, even, by a spinster who thought editors were romantic, the studio, there were two or three hundred volumes, mostly in "standard sets." Shad glumly stared at them, the while he rubbed the faded Brussels carpet with his spurs. He was worried. He had to find something seditious!

He pointed at Doremus's dearest treasure, the thirty-four-volume extra-illustrated edition of Dickens which had been his father's, and his father's only insane extravagance. Shad demanded of Staubmeyer, "That guy Dickens—didn't he do a lot of complaining about conditions—about schools and the police and everything?"

Staubmeyer protested, "Yes, but Shad—but, Captain Ledue, that was a hundred years ago—"

"Makes no difference. Dead skunk stinks worse 'n a live one."

Doremus cried, "Yes, but not for a hundred years! Besides—"

The M.M.'s, obeying Shad's gesture, were already yanking the volumes of Dickens from the shelves, dropping them on the floor, covers cracking. Doremus seized an M.M.'s arm; from the door Sissy shrieked. Shad lumbered up to him, enormous red fist at Doremus's nose, growling, "Want to get the daylights beaten out of you now... instead of later?"

Doremus and Sissy, side by side on a couch, watched the books thrown in a heap. He grasped her hand, muttering to her, "Hush— hush!" Oh, Sissy was a pretty girl, and young, but a pretty girl schoolteacher had been attacked, her clothes stripped off, and been left in the snow just south of town, two nights ago.

Doremus could not have stayed away from the book-burning. It was like seeing for the last time the face of a dead friend.

Kindling, excelsior, and spruce logs had been heaped on the thin snow on the Green. (Tomorrow there would be a fine patch burned in the hundred-year-old sward.) Round the pyre danced M.M.'s schoolboys, students from the rather ratty business college on Elm Street, and unknown farm lads, seizing books from the pile guarded by the broadly cheerful Shad and skimming them into the flames. Doremus saw his Martin Chuzzlewit fly into air and land on the burning lid of an ancient commode. It lay there open to a Phiz drawing of Sairey Gamp, which withered instantly. As a small boy he had always laughed over that drawing.

He saw the old rector, Mr. Falck, squeezing his hands together. When Doremus touched his shoulder, Mr. Falck mourned, "They took away my Urn Burial, my Imitatio Christi. I don't know why, I don't know why! And they're burning them there!"

Who owned them, Doremus did not know, nor why they had been seized, but he saw Alice in Wonderland and Omar Khayyám and Shelley and The Man Who Was Thursday and A Farewell to Arms all burning together, to the greater glory of the Dictator and the greater enlightenment of his people.

The fire was almost over when Karl Pascal pushed up to Shad Ledue and shouted, "I hear you stinkers—I've been out driving a guy, and I hear you raided my room and took off my books while I was away!"

"You bet we did, Comrade!"

"And you're burning them—burning my—"

"Oh no, Comrade! Not burning 'em. Worth too blame much, Comrade." Shad laughed very much. "They're at the police station. We've just been waiting for you. It was awful nice to find all your little Communist books. Here! Take him along!"

So Karl Pascal was the first prisoner to go from Fort Beulah to the Trianon Concentration Camp—no; that's wrong; the second. The first, so inconspicuous that one almost forgets him, was an ordinary fellow, an electrician who had never so much as spoken of politics. Brayden, his name was. A Minute Man who stood well with Shad and Staubmeyer wanted Brayden's job. Brayden went to concentration camp. Brayden was flogged when he declared, under Shad's questioning, that he knew nothing about any plots against the Chief. Brayden died, alone in a dark cell, before January.

An English globe-trotter who gave up two weeks of December to a thorough study of "conditions" in America, wrote to his London paper, and later said on the wireless for the B.B.C.: "After a thorough glance at America I find that, far from there being any discontent with the Corpo administration among the people, they have never been so happy and so resolutely set on making a Brave New World. I asked a very prominent Hebrew banker about the assertions that his people were being oppressed, and he assured me, 'When we hear about such silly rumors, we are highly amused.'"

#hellsitesonlybookclub #bookblr #sinclair lewis

[twsted-princess]

"This world is....so strange. It's something out of a storybook. I'm curious to see what it has in store."

(All artwork done by @rosemariebush)

Bio

Name: Melanie Charmant

Nicknames: Mel, Lackey, (Grim) Perfect, (The first year gang) Melly-Elly, (Mori) Cub, (Petva) Dumb bitch, (Omari) Shrimpy, (Floyd) Daughter of Man, (Malleus) Mademoiselle Trickster, (Rook) Herbivore, (Leona) Baby bird, (Crowley) Little Devil (Sam)

Little Pinky, (Ellen @multydoodles) Little Fawn, (Kierron) Rockstar, (Dixie @rookvonhunt) Lady Pink, (Reina) Batty (Octavius) Princess of Fate, (Flynn @fumikomiyasaki) Coral, (Bora @terrovaniadorm) Poppet (Esme @wispy-selfship-eden) Field Mouse (Basil @squidwen) Lady Melanie (Tomoyuuki @just-an-otakus-blog)

Voice Actor: Manaka Iwami

Age: 16

Height: 5′6

Homeland: Earth UK, The Kingdom of Genovia

Birthday: 2/16

Starsign: Aquarius

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Demiromantic, Bisexual (Is ok with polygamy)

Family: Father, Mother, Younger triplet brothers (Older Sister)

Occupation: Student, Dorm Leader of the Ramshackle Dorm, Part-time singer at the Monstro Lounge, Part-time working at Mr. S Mystery Shop, Stand-In Queen of Genovia

Based off: Disney princesses/shoujo protagonists, These character broads, and a little bit of me

Professional Status

Dorm: Ramshackle Dorm

School Year: First

Class: 1-A

Best Subject: History of Magic

Club: Newspaper, (Assists the other clubs) Leader of the Cheer Leading Team

Dominant Hand: Left

Favorite Food: Fluffy cake (Angel food cake, Japanese cheesecake, Sponge cake)

Hated Food: None (Rotten food)

Likes: Louise, Grim, Her new friends, Her family, The ramshackle dorm, Books, Working with her hands, Clothes, Flowers, Animals, Cute things like stuffed toys and stationary, New places, Making people happy

Dislikes: Her sister, Bullies, Being mocked, Large bugs, (she won't kill them just be freaked out) Violence

Hobbies: Helping other students, Sewing, Cooking/Baking, Gardening, Cleaning, Knitting, Reading, Going into town for things/to mingle

Talents: Says she doesn't have any (Makes most of her wardrobe herself), Able to balance six books on her head perfectly, Singing, Is friends with Malleus)

Unique Magic: Has none

Backstory

The newest student of Night Raven College, leader of the Ramshackle dorm and the young Queen of a kingdom in a strange world. (aka Earth) Somehow she was spirited away to Twisted Wonderland, now under the care of Dire Crowley she studies at the illustrious school with absolutely no magic of her own to search for a way back home. You'd think her being a queen of an entire kingdom she'd act like one but, you'd be wrong. Instead of someone who's collected and a little snooty she's humble and sweet. Caring to anyone no matter how rude they are to her, she's always willing to lend a hand no matter the task. She tries to look on the bright side and put a smile on everyone even if it's just one person. A hard worker and a caretaker. Her heart is empathetic, soft and bleeding for all living things. Of course she has flaws, overworking herself to the brink of exhaustion trying to get work done, her positivity towards others fading when faced with herself, being stupidly stubborn, and trying to be selfless to the point it turns selfish. There are others too but they lie deep...........

Who she was before coming to Wonderland is a mystery to all except for her dearest friend Louise. She was a princess, with a seemingly loving family who ruled with goodness in their hearts. But on the day of coronation her elder sister Elia vanished.....left without a trance. Melanie then took the throne out of a want to make people happy while they find her sister at the young age of 14. She worked hard, made improvements and the people loved her but....there was something that was being hidden. Locked behind a dark door that she doesn't want to open. It was a lot, but everyone was happy...and that's what mattered. Then one night Louise saw her rise from her bed and slowly walked to her mirror, he of course went after her and then...she went through the mirror. The next moment she was awake with the mouse in a coffin. Then the adventure of a lifetime began.......

#my work #twisted wonderland #twst oc's

[illwilledomen]

The Wormwood Family

The Wormwoods are an immensely wealthy illager family in my world. A few of my illager OCs belong to the bloodline, including Percy. They own a sprawling estate and what is essentially a personal militia, and are the closest thing to royalty you can get with the way illager society works.

Illager factions are usually run by, to put it simply, extremely wealthy and extremely powerful gangs, typically lead by the head of a family and named after the family’s surname. The lord or lady who is the head of the gang will live in the woodland mansion and as will their next of kin (children, grandchildren, nephews, nieces, etc).

The Wormwood manor is owned by Giovanni Wormwood, an old and powerful Evoker who is 109 years old. His old age does not show - physically he is in his mid sixties.

He is kept alive by magic and while he is sharp witted and cruel as ever, his health is slowly deteriorating from the effects of his dark magic.

He runs the house with an iron fist, and is a sour and arrogant man - the house is also run by his second in command, Lady Andrea. She is his wife, and is around 103 (once again, kept younger by her magic) and often runs the place when he is unable to. She is even colder than her husband, and is not afraid to eliminate anyone who stands in her way, including her own family. She had her first born son murdered (attempted murder, he may or may not have survived and got into the art of …..illusion..) because he could not succeed in his magic studies, and often dangles this looming threat over her other children. Rumour in the mansion has it that she might be behind Gio’s health failures, some whispering in hushed tones that she has put some kind of curse on him to ensure her side of the family takes over, but for now, that’s all it is - just rumours.

Next in the line are Gio, Andrea and their siblings (all of which are dead) children. They are part of the highest league of Evokers. The council, as they call themselves, consist of the lord and lady, the high mages, and also a top vindicator general, Hemlock, who often joins meetings, being close friends with the lord and lady and is highly respected in the mansion despite not being of the bloodline.

Gio and Andrea’s eldest son is Mervyn, an exuberant socialite with a loud and pompous personality. He loves expensive gifts and booze, is extremely gullible and is a bit of a fool. He often boasts about his magical prowess and charm (none of which are anything special, he often relies on magical party tricks to get people to tolerate him) and has a habit of getting extremely drunk and running his mouth about things he shouldn’t. He gets scammed a lot. He has two body guard vindicators, who are silent, imposing and are also twins.

Ursula is the second eldest child, she is not of the bloodline but is the wife of Mervyn and so that makes her a step-child. She gossips a lot and loves to spread rumours. She spoils her eldest daughter Yolanda and her youngest son Charleston rotten, and also spoils her vex, despite being advised not to waste her magic by summoning the, when she shouldn’t. If you dare criticize her sweetie-poppet-darling-angel-Charlie-bear Charleston you will probably get thrown into the ocean with weights attached to your ankles.

Then we have Eugene, the middle child. He’s a complete loser and gets 0 bitches. He is constantly complaining and grumbling about something, and due to this, Ursula takes great pleasure in making him be the target of her passive aggressive warfare. He works as a scrollkeeper and has an extensive knowledge on many things - if you can get past his complete lack of charisma, permanent expression of disgust and nasally drone of a voice, he contains an ocean of knowledge.

The second youngest son, Marrow. Marrow is a Casanova, always trying to woo any illager who catches sight of his award winning smile and chiseled jawline. He plays into peoples egos, praising them and watching them intently, making them feel important to put them under his spell to do his bidding, like a siren. Behind his facade of romance and charm hides a cunning and sadistic character, who takes pleasure in watching things suffer. He shows this in his Vex, who often take the form of the illager’s inner personality. His vex are absolutely vile and go out of their way to upset, hurt or frighten people physically, emotionally or verbally whenever he summons them. Due to this, he only takes them out on the battlefield or when he wants to torment his employees, nieces or nephews. He is an immensely cruel man and is not to be toyed with.

Marrow had a wife, however she’s out of the picture. No one really knows what happened to her.

The youngest son is a recluse. His name is Ferguson and he stays away from his siblings. Like Marrow, he is a twisted individual, however he is more obviously so than his brother. He has a disturbing fascination with anatomy and mutation, and dreams of making a biologically ‘perfect’ creature. His studies and experiments have helped refine the… ‘model’… for the Ravager, and when he is around people he is often can seen staring them down in an immensely creepy and violating way, particularly if they’re a human or a villager, or taking notes frantically with his notebook that he carries. He is a pasty little beast with gaunt features, even for illager standards, and he giggles like a complete maniac. No one really knows what he does in the dank, dark corners of the mansion laboratories, but it can’t be good. Stay on your guard around this peculiar character.

Luckily, he’s a coward, so if you look tough enough you probably won’t get mysteriously knocked out cold with a slowness potion at night and wake up on a dissection table.

Finally we have the youngest of the bloodline, all ranging from teens to their late twenties.

The eldest child of Marrow is Persis, of whom prefers the name Percy. She’s 28 and she’s a vindicator. She is tall and broad, and her personality alone could fill up a room. She’s loud, raucous and both extremely unlikeable and charismatic in her own kind of way. She has a short temper, and also flirts a lot but never actually bothers to be courteous or respectful to her love interests - she’s the kind of person who will leave without so much as a good morning after sleeping with someone. She is an adept warrior, and is extremely strong. Given she has pure direct Wormwood blood she would have become an Evoker, but she was extremely burly and violent from the start so it was decided she’d get dibs on a higher up position in vindicator training. She likes to bully anyone who’s smaller than her in size, with the exception of her cousin Charleston, who’s her boss.

The second child, and youngest of Marrow’s children, sister of Percy, we have Ivy, a female evoker who is exceptionally gifted. She is stoic and cold, and Percy cannot recall ever seeing the girl smile, cry or even so much as express more than the occasional scowl or grimace in disgust. She is very powerful for her age (being 18) and due to this she is often seen as the favorite child. However she is constantly pressured by her elders and is put through the painful and abusive training that comes with learning the dark arts, hence her numbness. She speaks very little, and when she does, she usually puts that effort into bruising someone’s ego. Her vex are aggressive and unstable in nature, often wailing and shrieking. Due to this she uses fangs the majority of the time.

Percy and Ivy don’t get along. Percy thinks she’s a ‘prissy little cow’ and Ivy thinks Percy is a ‘lumbering moron’.

Then, we have the children of Ursula and Mervyn.

Yolanda is the oldest daughter of the two, being 24. She loves jewelry and expensive things, is spoiled rotten by her mother and father, and like her mother, she’s always in on the gossip. Out of all the illagers here, however, she’s probably the nicest. She isn’t as mean spirited as the rest of her family, is quite emotional and while she isn’t the brightest she usually means well. Because of her softness and naivety, she’s subject to cruelty from her peers and often looked down upon in a condescending way, even by her own parents. It doesn’t help that she’s not a very good mage, either.

Youngest, we have Charleston, whos 21. Charlie is your classic spoiled rich pretty boy. He’s entitled and boasts a lot, and has a Napoleon complex (he’s quite small - not Arch-illager levels of manlet, but enough to make him a target for cruel jokes). Percy works for him as his body guard, and it’s a good thing he’s a cousin and pays well because Percy can’t stand him and would love nothing more than to punt the little bastard. Charles is terrified of his uncle Marrow and Fergie. He also hates ravagers. Probably because they remind him of Fergie’s ‘projects’. It’s very clear that Charlie is Ursula’s favourite child, and due to this, Yolanda gets jealous and often picks on the boy.

Okay, that’s all I have for now. Thanks for reading!

#minecraft #mineblr #minecraft lore #illager #minecraft ocs #minecraft OC #illager OC #evoker #vindicator #long post

[thecitywitchuk]

Let’s talk about pins in magick

Pins are commonly associated with poppets & voodoo dolls, however they have been used by other cultures all over the world for witchcraft, they are not limited to voodoo, hoodoo or sanitaria practises. Pins can be used is all sports of ways, with the obvious being to cause harm. But don’t let that put you off using them. They can also be used for positive purposes as well such as to pin a disease to stop it spreading, to insert healing energy into a specific area of the body, to pin in place a desire or thought, to help you recall a lost memory or to help reduce pain. They can also be used to bless & protect. One of my personal favourite ways to use pins in magick is to work on the mind & a persons mentality. To reduce fears, anxiety & to unlock a their potential.

Of course pins are more commonly used for baneful workings, which includes curses, hexes, to cause pain, to insight anxiety, fear & obedience. They can also be used to inject toxic energy into the target & one common way to do this is to coat the pins in the mush from a rotten piece of fruit or from a poisonous plant etc. you can also use pins to attack a persons mental state, health & well being, to pin their energy so they become powerless & to also attack their natural defences to other workings you want to do later.

Pins can also be added into jar workings & to candle spells. Many examples of pins being used in magick are shown on my social media pages, please take a look for more ideas on how to use pins.

#thecitywitchuk #witchcraftspells #witchcraft #wiccanspells #candlemagick #spellcasting #hoodoopractitioner #conjurer #spellcaster #hoodoospells #voodoo doll #poppet

[achronichome]

12 Week Year 2.3

I got to enjoy the solar eclipse. The people of my apartment complex wandered in and out of their homes, looking up, sharing eclipse glasses, talking and laughing. It didn't get very dark here and some expressed disappointment but we did get a good view of it.

I was going to dedicate an antique doll to use as a poppet/fetch/whatever, but as I was cleaning it I saw that the fabric and even the insides are rotten. Bugger! I can't use a rotting doll for witchcraft. But I can use her for a template to make a new one and honor her that way.

I didn't have any nonfunctional days; four low functioning, three medium functioning, and no high functioning. We had one or the other -- and once both -- grandgoblins four times. I didn't feel the oppressive need for sleep. I didn't get much practical work done but it was still nice to feel better.

Mercury Retrograde bit me in the ass. I could have sworn up-and-down I had a mammogram appointment on Thursday. It was on my Google calendar and on my planning page. So I got my things together, put going-out clothes on, and presented myself on the porch for my ride. Well, the ride didn't come... which is okay because I didn't have an appointment. To add irritation to annoyance, I know I have a colonoscopy consult in a couple of weeks and I need to arrange a ride to get there and back, but I don't know where the hell it is and neither does my GP evidently.

Fuck it. I'll sort it out when Mercury goes direct.

#april 2024 #12 week year #ftwtf #just witchy #mercury retrograde #chronic illness

[fourfuckinghorsemen]

It chokes.

Mud,

Mud,

Rotten,

And a faint smell of blueberry hides under the rot.

It coughs and sputters, before the gurgling fades out.

It's quiet, and a mix of rotten blackberries linger, along with the faint blueberry.

And honey.

He remains still. Sleeping? Or simply too drained to move? Either way, the poppet continues to be ignored. Perhaps if it had caught him earlier, while his mood was still high, he'd have been more receptive.

#*Alas. This is the heaviest he's felt in a while.* #*Happiness had been there. It'd been burning bright all day.* #*And then it was cruelly snuffed out.* #*Hope is cruel.* #Ask #Tua rp #Tua rp blog #(sorry poppet i need to sleep myself oopsie)

[eldritch-spouse]

More jestussy!!! Even more manipulative!!! Vinnel, better watch your poppet(s)! ;b

Good, someone caught it. He's not a literal jester though.

Livius was made intentionally somewhat similar to Vinnel, to drive home a point about our dear jester.

If there's one thing Vinnel is filled with, it's jealousy. Envy. He's livid that he can never have the normalcy others take for granted because of an illness he did nothing to deserve. He's broken and forced to live surrounded by people who can function, who can enjoy everything, who are healthy and happy and loved. While he sits, stewing in his own misery, wishing harm and sickness upon others, taking perverse enjoyment in disabling the healthy and crushing those who find happiness. Stuck in a vicious cycle of cruelty and self-sabottage, Vinnel never heals, physically or emotionally.

Imagine him, living a large portion of his life in this miserable state, then coincidentally meeting the Icon of Envy, who is visiting The Clergy- And looks oh so similar to Vinnel.

It's a joke. It's a particularly harsh joke. It's as if Vinnel is seeing a caricature of himself. His whole life has been a rotten agglomeration of spite and envy- Maybe that's what other people see when they look at him! A sniveling loser unable to move on and ever childishly irate at others who have done nothing to deserve his wrath.

The cherry on top of it all is that Livius hones in on Vinnel immediately. Vinnel seeps jealousy from every pore, the demon literally drills holes onto him with his knowing stare. Vinnel feels something within him sink as the demon lord approaches and introduces himself with way too much familiarity, as if visiting an old friend.

#Vinnel oc #Livius oc