#stories of strange happenings

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Rita Golden Gelman - ESP: Stories of Strange Happenings - Scholastic Book Services - 1981

[mammalsofaction]

Something incredibly annoying when dealing with non-pnf stans when discussing with PnF is discussion of Candace being accidentally gaslit by her mother. In that they assume everyone is in on the fact to make Candace feel like she's crazy. NOBODY ELSE is doing that. In fact, nobody BUT Candace seems to understand the whole brunt of the situation.

The backyard gang are not "bullying" Candace or keeping her from telling her mom. In fact, they tell Linda about it themselves MULTIPLE TIMES. They talk about it off handedly a bunch of times too. Theyre just also 10, and Linda thinks it's part of the "games". She thinks theyre being imaginative. Theyre NOT. The backyard gang is NOT lying to her, and they are NOT perpetuating the assumption that Candace is crazy. Linda just doesnt believe them. The backyard gang doesn't KNOW this. THEY ALL THINK LINDA KNOWS.

LAWRENCE is not perpetuating the idea that Candace is crazy. He ALSO thinks Linda knows. HE HAS SEEN the backyard projects a bunch of times, and HE TELLS Linda about them TOO. However, and this is important, he only ever sees the cute, relaxed and sweet projects, and never the potentially dangerous or fatal ones, so he thinks Candace is being anxious and overprotective. Which she is, but that's a separate issue. LAWRENCE is not lying. HE thinks Linda knows.

JEREMY has seen the projects and parties. He talks about them at length, and how cool Phineas and Ferb are! He's never lied. He thinks Linda knows.

STACY has seen the projects and parties. She FREQUENTLY vouches for Candace. But shes Candace's best friend, so of course Linda doesnt believe her.

EVERYBODY EITHER THINKS LINDA ALREADY KNOWS, OR HAVE CLOSE ATTACHMENTS TO CANDACE SO LINDA DOESNT BELIEVE THEM ANYWAY.

Linda isnt doing it on purpose. NOBODY is lying.

DO i think Linda should believe her daughter now and then? And should Lawrence stick up for her more? Of course I do. But it's not malicious. Just....a bit neglectful. But Candace's assumption that everyone is against her is largely perpetuated in her own head and anxieties and miseries. She ISN'T alone. People ARE on her side, and she has more allies than she thinks. There are MULTIPLE episodes where Phineas and Ferb try to bust THEMSELVES (AKA attempt to show Linda their project with her own eyes) when she simply asks them to. A lot of people think she's really cool, and caring, and her brothers think shes unironically, absolutely AWESOME. Which has been the point of many episodes, AS WELL AS Candace against the Universe.

[tennessoui]

prompt list but it’s just sentences I’ve gotten wrong in duolingo

[patheticlogic]

yan wushi's betrayal is necessary, his cruelty is the point!!! much like the audience, shen qiao believes that there's kindness in yan wushi, and with time spent together, it will eventually show, no matter how small. that although they walk different paths, shen qiao's is the ultimate truth.

shen qiao's character flaw is not his kindness. it's his ignorance. and he doesn't truly accept (we, the audience, don't truly understand) this until yan wushi betrays him.

[thealexchen]

So we sacrificed an entire town only to be called "high school sweethearts" in the past tense

Also what do you MEAN "high school sweethearts" Deck Nine?? They were childhood best friends, there's a DIFFERENCE

[front-facing-pokemon]

[griem]

ijbol idk man releasing screenshots of very polarizing things said in a private discord server between friends in a public "callout" post is #the most #tumblrific thing ive ever seen LOL.

#opinion 😱 in tags

[purple--queen]

sooo if Billy hadn't the signil Wanda could have found him with the darkhold

[xxxdestieltrutherxxx]

YOU GUYS WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TO ME

something INSANE just happened. ok, so, I was on the bus watching @strange-aeons video on the croaker when a girl with long dark ebony hair with purple streaks and red tips sat beside me. she was SO CUTE AND GOTH!!!!! so, she glances at my phone and says "omg. is that father strange??" I WAS SCREAMING. SHE KNEW A STRANGE AEONS AND SHE WAS LIKE SO PERFECT IN EVERY WAY. So naturally I said yes, this is strange's video on the croaker and complimented her goth outfit. We literally spent like 17 minutes talking ab the croaker when a group of em*s got in the bus. The perfect girl that sat beside me (lets call her S) was like ughhhh I hate em*s. which SAME they're literally posers that don't even dress well but ok. anyway, so the em*s got in front of us and started talking among themselves like the squirmy little rats they are, and then the leader (let's call him dumble door) said "you goths are posers. get out of the way" and S said "Ummm we're literally just minding our business. please be respectful." by now most of the bus was watching us, but they were watching more at us than the em*s. they said "this is a em*s zone, you can't be here. goths are posers because they don't live the em* lifestyle, you're just a phase and nothing more" I was furious. so, I said "well actually the bus is public transport, and public means that any person of the populous can use it. so clearly you don't know what public means and are just using your harmful em* rhetoric to harm goths. also, we goths have a very extensive culture and historical background, which you clearly dont know. if your so keen on ignorance then you should get out on the next stop (the next stop was next to a school)" the bus WENT WILD, even the old lady (there was an old lady) was cheering us on. Then one of the emos started crying and got out of the bus while it was moving. I guess we made our point VERY clear. The other emos just moved away to some seats far from us. anyway, a few minutes later me and S got out of the bus and decided to head towards my home to marathon strange's vids. but when we arrived at my house, S said "so... there's something I haven't told you...." then she TOOK OF HER WIG. turns out S, wasn't S at all. She was actually. Strange Aeons. Her hair was also more ebony than the wig. It was also her birthday so I made a cake with blood (we're goth) and celebrated the rest of the day by watching destiel edits (I'm a heller). Yeah, I guess I can say I had a crazy day.

[ganondoodle]

and here i was, thinking that the majority of people following me are here for the zelda/comic stuff O.o

[ruvviks]

// wip day.

i'm working on a new project that is (for once) not connected to any of my bigger original universes, so i thought i'd share some of the writing i have for it! taglist down below, feel free to take this opportunity to share your own wips (in a separate post of course) if you have any!! the first part is a sort of introduction to the story, from the perspective of main character marshall! the second part is a snippet from a scene much further into the story, to kind of paint a picture (for both you and myself lol) of what the setting and the tone of the story is gonna be like. it's a bit different writing than what you're used to from me so please take a moment to read the warnings first!! warnings >> blood, cult, death, implied cannibalism, gore, religion, violence

God won't speak to me.

He spoke to my sister when we were eleven, her howls echoing through the backyard of our childhood home as the venom of a wasp spread quickly through her veins.

He spoke to my mother the day we buried her oldest son, the hem of her alcohol-stained dress torn where it had caught on the thorns of a blackberry bush she had blankly passed through.

He spoke to my father the day he put the barrel of a .44 in his mouth, reenacting what he had classified a sin for all the wrong reasons, his trembling finger on the trigger strong enough to rip apart the last tendon holding our family together yet not to finish the job.

I was eighteen, when I was found on the river bank near Overture, Louisiana, the sharp end of a jagged knife plunged deep within my side and my bloodied hands clutching the cross necklace of my brother, my breathing akin to the ice cold shallow water grazing at my ankles as I stared up at the star-spotted sky with glazed over eyes, blue chapped lips shaped in the final hum of a prayer.

A black abyss stared back, a strained vacuum without comfort, leaving me with a plea unheard and the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

And God did not answer.

'Gotta dig… Just gotta dig. Gotta get 'em out of there… Gotta take 'em home…'

The physical distance between Marshall and the grave did not muffle the continuous mumbling, the shaky voice of the young priest clear as day like a whisper directly in his ear as the eerie silence looming over the church's cemetery left him with not much else to focus on. He knew he should turn around and leave, at that hour of the night— get back in his car and return to Posey in the motel, get some sleep while he still could— yet curiosity held him tight within its grasp, and each step he took pushed him closer into the wrong direction.

'Just the bones… Just the bones…'

The man was hunched over, back turned towards Marshall and partially obscured by the few last rows of gravestones stood between the two of them. His neck twitched— a sudden and unexpected movement at an angle Marshall did not hold for possible, yet it had happened entirely too fast for him to clearly see.

'Hey, is everything alright?' he called out; well against his better judgment, hairs on his forearms standing up straight as his feet carried him another few inches closer to the priest.

And the closer he got, the more he wished he had listened to himself.

If he had just turned away, he wouldn't have had to notice the unusual and unplaceable noises bubbling up from the priest's direction. He wouldn't have had to realize the priest was sat next to a coffin, yet to be lowered into an undug grave. (A curious practice, but Marshall was not one to judge— Overture'd had to endure a rather tiresome series of curiosities as of late, and an unburied corpse in the middle of bumfuck Louisiana in the midst of a yet to be explained power cut would be the least of its problems.)

'Just the bones…. Gotta dig… Gotta bring 'em home.'

'Do you need help?' Marshall persistently asked, his voice muffled by the thrumming of his own heart in his eardrums while his eyes trailed over the coffin— splintered and shattered at the lid, the glimmer of the distant church lights barely enough to reveal the outline of an axe resting on the dirt at the priest's ankles.

'Have to do it, there's no other way. Gotta dig, gotta dig, gotta dig—'

'Hey!'

Marshall should have never stayed in town.

He realized that now, as the priest's obsessive muttering came to a sudden stop forcing Marshall to hold still too— yet he had already approached too closely, and realized that no dirt had been dug in at all, and realized that the priest's hands were instead stuck inside the coffin repeatedly plunging deeper and deeper into the rotting remains of the corpse inside, once white vestment covered in blood and gore and he stared up at Marshall with a faint glow in two milky white eyes and with a wide grin exposing bloodied and shattered teeth, much akin to a predator looking at its next prey.

'Just the bones,' he repeated, the nodding of his head nearly belittling— as if to convince Marshall this was how it was supposed to be, as if to convince him the Word of God was not to be neglected and his fate as a sinner was a gift to the Divine Light and as if to convince him as long as he would not struggle it would all be over soon.

'Gotta dig.'

Marshall could not move, lamb to the slaughter as the priest rose to his feet with the axe in his hand.

'Just the bones! Gotta take 'em home.'

taglist (opt in/out)

@velocitic, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @gurathins;

@mojaves, @shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption;

@ncytiri, @calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm;

@strafethesesinners, @fashionablyfyrdraaca, @aemondtargeryen, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian;

@estevnys, @elgaravel

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Last Hour Between Worlds

fantasy locked room murder mystery

set in a world with alternate universes that bleed into it that get increasingly more eldritch as they go down, following a woman able to step between them

she’s on leave to take care of her newborn, but decides to attend a new years’ party to give herself a short break to socialise

but when everyone is murdered - only to suddenly be alive again, but with the whole building shifted one echo down, she realises she’s caught in a dangerous looping game and will have to find a way to stop them from dying permanently…. with the help of her rival slash almost-ex

very lightly demi-coded bi MC, f/f

[waywardstation]

WIP FRIDAY

I apologize for getting this out two days late, I’ve been busy with lots of packing and events! But I have a little reprieve, so I wanted to post another WIP; this one is from Heart Full, Bowl Empty.

BE AWARE THAT THIS SEGMENT INVOLVES A CONVERSATION REVOLVING AROUND UNWILLING BUT INTENTIONAL STARVATION. I know there are people who say they can’t read this fic because of themes like this, so be aware of this before reading this WIP!!

I included this snippet in today’s WIP because I have like three versions of the entire segment this snippet is from. I feel like it’s a really important segment with a really important conversation, and I’ve had a hard time balancing all the emotions the way I want to between Ingo and Akari, with frustration, sadness, anger, and empathy, to realistically get them to the resolution I want at the end of it.

The final version will probably only include a few parts from this particular segment.

Enjoy!!

—————

“I knew it! You’re doing it again!” Akari’s eyebrows scrunched, trying to understand through the frustration. “You said you wouldn’t!”

“Circumstances will improve soon.” Clearly done with the conversation, that was all Ingo said, but it was confession enough that he had fallen back on his word. Shame contaminated his voice, but if there was any regret, he hid it well.

“No, it won’t!” They were not even half-way through winter yet. “And you know it won’t!”

Ingo said nothing as the kits carefully moved around his slumped form, finding comfortable places to settle around him. She didn’t know if he intended to snuff the conversation out with angered silence, or if he was just too exhausted to care about arguing with her anymore. If it wasn’t for his small occasional signs of movement or acknowledgement, she’d think he was actually sleeping.

Akari carefully stepped into the nesting layers, moving to sit down next to Ingo. She settled with her back against the cavern wall, pulling her knees close as a few kits shuffled around to accommodate her. “You know I’m right.”

Huffing out an irritated sigh and nothing more, it didn’t seem like Ingo had any intentions to engage with her argument anymore.

“You couldn’t even pull yourself up over the ridge,” She prodded at him again, trying to motivate more conversation out of him. “I had to help you!”

“There are many, many factors that go into that.” A reluctant answer, perhaps a reflexive attempt to quell her worry; Ingo feebly rubbed his wrapped hand, almost as a display for his excuse.

“I’ve seen you do more when you’ve been hurt worse.” Akari retorted, a little softer now but still cold.

Ingo’s eyes remained closed, though his hardened expression implied that it came across as more accusatory than she’d intended. But perhaps it was precisely the time to be accusatory.

“Ingo, you’re so tired all the time now – you stopped coming to the training grounds because you just can’t make the trips all the time anymore! And you’re sleeping so much more than you used to, and it’s like you’re always hungry all the time, even though all I see you doing anymore is gathering food!” Akari’s voice grew more jagged as she continued to jab at him, entirely uninterrupted.

It was getting difficult. With Ingo’s tunic still sopping by the bucket, still somewhat red from the exhausted effort of washing out the blood, it could not hide the ribs that pressed out just a little bit more, or help fill out what the waistline had lost under the loosening belt. The abject dread of directly acknowledging that was too much.

“And- and look! You aren’t even willing to hold a conversation with me anymore, and I don’t know if it’s because you just won’t, or because you can’t!” The kits shifted uncomfortably as Akari retreated back into her own frustration instead. “People think you’re sick, Ingo! They’re asking me about you! What are you doing?”

The exhausted man remained where he laid in the nesting material, only moving his hands to rub at his face and sigh — a deep, forced sigh that swelled his side before releasing. Akari almost didn’t think he’d answer her, but with some effort, he propped himself up first onto his elbows, then slumped forward. The teen watched him run shaky fingers through his hair as he sat next to her.

“…I don’t know what I should do.��� The guilt. The weary guilt cracked his voice and tore Akari’s anger down to heartache.

[licorishh]

*FONTAINE SPOILERS*

Y'all laugh at the fact that Tartaglia randomly falling into the Abyss one day as a kid ended up being the catalyst for Fontaine's eventual predicted destruction but all this means is that from the start Tartaglia was intended to fall into the Abyss and become a Harbinger and thus has always been doomed by the narrative

[essektheylyss]

I have a book that I preordered (A Natural History of Empty Lots) ready for pickup at the bookstore and I am NOT gonna pick it up until I've finished writing this chapter, dammit.

[front-facing-pokemon]