#why is porcelain spelt like that

[shortcakelils]

What would lily look like as a cup?

something like this

I did one where she had wine throughout her whole body, kinda like Chai but it looked disturbing-ish to me since it was red so I just removed it

but yeah, she'd be a wine glass, seductive ig but very delicate

callback to her old cup re-imagine thingy, slightly redesigned

the redesign repulses me

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Jason getting stuffed animals as gifts from his s/o?

Jason remembers the first time you began this little tradition of yours. It had long since became his favourite memory for multiple reasons but mainly because of how sweet of a gesture it was for you to do for him, unprovoked as well.

It all started when you came home, hands in your pockets and with a twinkle in your eyes that usual spelt trouble for Jason. He sighs playfully and puts down his book to look at you. ‘What have you got in your pockets baby bird.’ He says and you giggle.

‘Who says I got anything? Maybe I just like having my hands in my pockets hmm?’ You replied cheekily.

Jason raised his brow at you. ‘I would believe you had you not got the face of someone who is obviously hiding something from me, so I’ll ask a second time sweetheart, what have you got in your pocket?’

You pulled one of your hand from your pocket to reveal nothing, but then did the same with the other hand to reveal a small, palm sized plushie of a red robin with button eyes and tufts of messy fluff on the top of its head. It was cute but that didn’t change Jason’s confusion as to why you bought it.

‘A red robin?’ He says aloud as you smiled wider at him.

‘For you.’ You told him, pushing the hand with the plushie on it further towards him. ‘I saw this little guy and thought of you.’

Jason felt a warmth alight in his chest when you tell him this and immediately reaches for the plushie, holding it gently within his larger hands as though it’s made out of porcelain as he help it up to his face. ‘Why?’ He asks. You shrugged. ‘Do I need a reason to get you things? I just thought that you would like a plushie or two of your own, to keep as company or maybe a cuddle buddy. The point is the plushie can be whatever you want it to be.’ You add as you watched Jason just stare at the plush, worried that you might’ve done something wrong, before putting it aside on the couch and standing up to close the distance between the two of you.

Jason’s eyes were as soft as was the rest of his face as he held your face with tenderness, stroking your cheeks. ‘I love it baby bird, this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me in a long while.’ Jason trailed off and you couldn’t help but hold onto his biceps and rubbed soothing patterns into his skin.

‘Oh jaybirdie.’ You cooed as you began peppering kisses to his face and feeling ten times better upon hearing him chuckle from all of your affection. ‘I’d buy you a million more plushies to make you feel loved.’ You whispered against his lips as though it was a secret meant just shared between the two of you.

And you kept to your promise and Jason wasn’t one to complain when you looked so happy and adorable doing so.

Then again he could never find himself capable to no to you in any capacity. That’s how much of a fool in love with you he was and he couldn’t help it but wouldn’t want it to ever change. So soon enough Jason bore witness as his room was slowly being taken over by the small palm sized plushies you’ve bought for him. He had the red robin at the head of his bed alongside a blue jay, a robin and a baby bat, each one signifying his siblings one way or another; where as other random plushies you’ve given him were scattered about the rest of the room like cute, plush, silent spectres.

His room had grown into something he could be happy to be within as it was filled with your warmth and love for him, which was much more welcoming than its bare minimalistic first appearance, it didn’t bore any personality of who slept within that very bed at all. Though then again Jason didn’t feel the need to add anything else to it then he already did which was a bedside desk, bookshelf for all his literature and a simple wardrobe to house all of his clothes.

Jason didn’t feel the need to add more because he didn’t think that he deserves to have more than when he was already given or had in his current possession. However when he glances at your plushies whenever he felt this type of way, he was reminded that he did deserve more then what he was given and you were more then happy to do so, for you believed he deserved to be happy and Jason couldn’t help but fall for you even more for that.

‘I don’t deserve you.’ He’d say to the little red robin plushie, the first plushie you got him, as he sat on the edge of the bed to hold within his hands, just as gently as the day you got him it. ‘Yet you always made it your task to prove that I did deserve you.’ He adds as he brushed his thumb across the tufts of soft fluff atop its head.

‘Because you do and always will.’ You tell him from the bedroom door, smiling as you watched Jason gingerly put the red robin down between the blue jay and the other robin plush on the bed, petting them on their heads subconsciously before standing up from his end to greet you warmly with a kiss on the lips, making you hum softly as you reciprocated.

‘Got another plush for me?’ He asks against your lips cheekily as you chuckled. ‘Am I that predictable now mr Todd?’ You replied, pressing another kiss to his lips because they were too tempting and close enough to taste. You loved coming home to Jason and getting this sweet moment with him that took away all of your daily stresses, rendering them unimportant when you were in the arms of your teddy bear of a lover.

‘It’s less of a predictability on your behalf and more of a tradition that you’ve upheld for as long as we’ve been together.’ Jason tells you as he took a step back to watch as you pull yet another palm sized plush from your pocket, presenting it before him in your outstretched hand, revealing the small but chubby raccoon with a little bow tie. ‘Tada. As tradition.’ You said playfully as Jason chuckled and took the cute raccoon plush into his own hands, using his thumbs to cutely move its stumpy paws. ‘What’re you going to call them?’ You then asked.

Jason hummed as he looked down at the plush where the name came to his mind almost immediately. ‘Bandit.’ He said without hesitation.

‘Bandit?’ You tested the name before moving to his side and look at the plushie with a hum of acknowledgment as you looked into the raccoons cute button eyes. ‘Sounds perfect.’ You add as you press a kiss to Jason’s cheek before leaning into his side, content with seeing him so happy it was enough to melt your heart. ‘But there’s only one problem.’ Jason looks at you with a raised brow.

‘Where are you going to put him?’

[thirdhandidiot]

Trans obey me hours bitches

(Main Post) If you were fortunate enough to avoid the first one, I recommend reading it first, but you don’t need to dw! guys keep hitting me up with obey me stuff in my inbox– I just wanted to finish this before I started anything else, but I love seeing your sexuality HC‘s amd can’t wait to talk Abt it!

I recon that it’s difficult for certain characters to go ‘unnoticed’ as trans for whatever reason, so here’s my thought, ask box is always open for obey me thoughts, especially if you think I’m representing anyone incorrectly or get anything wrong xx

•Lucifer would be one of the only brothers to go completely under the radar. Very few would ever imagine that he isn’t infact a cis male, and none would dare mention it to him. It’s a known fact that it’s practically impossible to catch lucifer in any state of undress, and whilst he’s unhappy with the attention thats brought towards it, he’s glad that no one has succeeded. Lucifer has scars on his chest, and whilst he’s taken good care of them to ensure optimal healing, they never completely left, the discoloured strip lighting up his already porcelain skin. Most days he’s able to completely forget about them, but occasionally he’ll see himself in the mirror and it’s stings, the reminder that hell never truly be what he considers perfect. On particularly bad days he will shut himself into his study only leaving for meal times (setting a good example to the others of course) and for classes, which isn’t too different from usually, but he shouts less, and the others can’t help but feel bad for taking advantage of Lucifers bad days, instead opting to maybe just, leave the fight for tomorrow yea?

•Mammon probably suffers pretty badly from dysphoria. His demon form requires him to expose the scars across his chest and as a result, quite a lot of people have a hunch. Anytime anyone asks he laughs it of with another story ‚attacked by huge bears!‘ ‚human witch tried ta kill me!‘ ,I battled diavolo and won!‘ but no one really believes his stories and he knows it. He appreciates that no one bothers him about it too much, but he doesn’t really like people knowing, it feels like they have something over him, like black mail, and we know how often mammon is blackmailed. Despite that he’s a successful model, having done plenty of shirtless shoots, and he’s noticed that the scars are never in the final picture, edited out in favour of flawlessly smooth skin, amd whilst he wishes he looked that way, it still feels wrong to see himself without them, especially when no ones brought it up to him.

•Levi absolutly has the worst dysphoria– due to his lungs being unlike any other demons (his demon form seems to have gills?) it’s dangerous for him to get surgery (not to mention he’s probably terrified of the prospect). As a result he just accepted a long time ago that he’d always have to bind. Considering how he’s almost always in his room, it’s not like many people know, but sometimes he’ll be in a raid and his voice will crack just one too many times when he’s mad, or he’ll get too defensive over someone else being attacked for being LGBT that there’s a few rumours online that he might be trans. He ignores them solidly in hope they go away but on bad days he can’t help but read them all– see complete strangers pick him apart and it hurts. Unable to bind for too long (for the fear of his brothers wrath) Levi often opts to wear huge clothes when in his room, which is part of the reason he makes people wait before entering, quickly changing into a binder, regardless of who’s at the door.

•Being neither Male nor female, it’s obviously impossible for Satan to go under the radar. Using they/them pronouns means that they’re often made to come out to people pretty soon after meeting them, given that they didn’t already know. Sometimes they just don’t have the energy to go through the gruelling task of listening to people stumble whilst trying to talk to them and will just leave, but being the avatar of wrath apparently has some advantages as very rarely does anyone try stop them. No one deliberately misgenders Satan twice, often meeting their timely end as they won’t hesitate to tear into anyone who has the disrespect to purposefully try hurt someone that way. Satan probably keeps an updated ‚LGBTQ+‘ book directory for any younger students, and has become something of a rolemodel completely unbeknownst to them, just for being an openly queer student (probably has a few admirers too).

•Asmo has a complicated, yet perfectly simple relationship with gender, whatever’s right is right. Usually using any pronouns, but occasionally making a request usually in the form of ‚I’m a princess tonight‘ or ‚i think I’m Daddy, don’t you?‘ and whilst the Brothers find it somewhat strange, theyre supportive and accustomed to the avatar of lusts mannerisms. Usually unbothered by strangers critiques, asmo is no stranger to being the centre of attention, be it a party, shoot or gossip blog. However this doesn’t mean that sometimes their body just feels wrong, like they can’t quite be comfortable whilst everyone’s talking to or about them, however sometimes fearing speaking up, feeling that they might be cut down for being over dramatic or fragile, which usually wouldn’t bother them, but in a more personal matter, it doesn’t always work out that way. Asmo is treated very much like any other human world celebrity that comes out as gender queer, often ignored by the press unless it’s relevant to the story

•Beel Is one of the brothers who passed stealth almost immediatly, having always been more muscular, much taller, and with a more subdued personality that no one questioned. Despite that, at first there was a fear that eating so much would cause him to gain weight on his hips or thighs, but he quickly found a love for working out that he hasn’t shaken since. Members of Beels gym are mostly aware that he’s trans, he doesn’t have a problem with people knowing, as long as they continue to show the same respect for him. He probably continues to post shirtless pics, not caring about what people think of him, and a lot of young queer people look up to him. He’s always happy to talk to anyone who comes up to him and asks for help, always willing to help others feel more comfortable, to give them that little boost.

•Belphie always struggled next to Beel. Of course they never told him that, and to this day belphie feels bad about keeping it a secret, but it’s better than upsetting Beel, right? Belphie didn’t really feel like anything. Definitely not a woman, but not a man? Non binary and gender queer never felt right, more like wearying a sticky name tag with your name spelt backwards where everyone pretends to understand it, when you know it’s wrong. Belphie took hormone replacements for a few years, wanting to remove the association with their birth assigned gender, but after a while, that started to feel wrong too, it was too much. A lot of people ask Beel ‚what Belphie is?‘ and when he told Belphie, they just told him to shrug. If Belphie doesn’t know, why would they? But a lot of people think they know, telling them ‚oh you must be agender!‘ ‚oh so youre Demi gendered?‘ but why would they know? Why do they feel entitled to their indentity? It’s draining.

[thecomposerofstories]

The Story of a Toy: The full story (So far, anyway, I still have a lot left to write, and any ideas are fully welcome! 💖)

~ The Story of a Toy~

UNDERSTANDINGS.

Amy didn’t understand it at first, why did play-time have to end? Why couldn’t they just play together, like they always did? But now she knew why.

Children grow up, and they leave. And her owner may forget the days they spent playing, and may not miss her the way she did, but Amy would remember, and as long as she did, she would be fine.

She hoped.

Her owner placed her carefully in a box, smiling sadly, as if she knew the small ragdoll she held was sentient, which was, of course, impossible.

Amy never understood the rule toys had to abide by, but always listened to them, because she had seen enough horror movies featuring dolls coming to life to know that humans frowned upon that sort of thing, and Amy, not wanting her owner to fear her or call an exorcist, stayed still.

But she had looked at her as if she were real. All those days spent running around in the park, lazing in the sun, her owner reading to her stories. Her owner’s favourite stories were always The Wizard of Oz, Peter Pan, and Alice in Wonderland. (Whom Amy’s owner had been named after)

Amy noticed that Dorothy, Alice and Wendy all wore blue, and travelled to fantasy worlds which by either flying, tornado, or Rabbit hole, respectively. And all were an allegory to leaving childhood. Which was an interesting coincidence. And much like those characters, Alice had to leave her childhood –and Amy- behind.

Shutting the box deftly, closing Amy in an only temporary darkness, Alice climbed up the steps of the attic.

Placing down the box beside the others, she left unceremoniously.

Amy moved her limbs dully, coming to life. She peered out from the box to get a closer look at her surroundings.

“Hello?” She called out tentatively. Using other objects placed within the box, -some books, old records, and a jewellery box- she clambered out, tumbling over. She coughed at the dust, adjusting her dark hair so it didn’t blind her. “H-Hello? Is anybody there?” She called out again, a little louder.

Nothing. She was the only toy there. Other toys had been sold, lost, and some had even lost hope in Alice and left. All but Amy.

Amy, feeling aloof and uncertain, just stood there.

I’ll wait, she thought. Someone, at some point, will open my box and play with me, or hand me off to a place where I could be played with… or something, hopefully.

And so the poor, steadfast ragdoll stood, waiting to be played with.

CHAPTERS

Reading was always a favourite pastime of Amy’s, a habit she had picked up from Alice. And it seemed to be reading that was keeping her sane. She read any books she could find:

Horror. (for days that she was bored and needed a scare, to give her an extra kick of adrenaline to keep her going,)

Picture books, (Her favourite was one about Dinosaurs, her favourite being the Tyrannosaurus Rex. In the book –Which to Amy didn’t seem that factually accurate- the T- Rex was described as ‘Fearsome and scary’, but she didn’t really think so, especially since she had read a famous quote: 'Green is the prime colour of the universe, and that from which it's loveliness arises', she reckoned anyone who was green would know that.)

Comedies. (Which made Amy laugh even if she didn’t get it.)

Even a huge dictionary titled: Strange Words and Their Meanings. (She adored going through the pages, memorising each word carefully.)

Over the years, Amy had read all of these books, more times than she could count.

Rest of the time spent in the attic she looked out of the window, while perched on a tower of boxes where she could look out but and no-one could see her. Like she didn’t exist. Either with a book or gazing dully out at the passing world outside, in her own little reverie.

Today was just like any other day. Or, it started out like one. Amy knew Alice’s parents had moved out of their house, a few months ago, and was wondering when someone else would come along.

Today was the day! A blue mini-van-like car parked itself in front of the garage, Amy guessed, a moving-van in tow. ‘Egg-Man-Movers’ was spelt along the truck, with funny looking literal egg-like man moving a bunch of boxes with the letters that spelt the name on the truck.

As the car stopped, a little boy, around six or seven, jumped out the car, holding two small figures Amy couldn’t quite see, though she was certain one was wearing a hat. The boy wore a hat, too, a red one. A woman also stepped out of the car, presumably the boy’s mother, and they both got a small creature, probably a baby, out of the car too.

Amy jumped down from the window sill, enthusiastically spinning and laughing. “It’s today! It’s today! A new owner! Yes!” She squealed, she did a fist pump in the air and danced around like some madwomen, spinning, until she tripped over her feet. Laughing, of course.

This was what she was waiting for! Amy loved reading, but do you know what she loved about it the most?

Starting new chapters.

NOTHING

Nothing.

Non-one.

Amy expected for someone to bring some boxes into the attic, notice her and take her out, but no. Why bring stuff with you if you’re just going to put it away and never see it was the only explanation.

Sometimes, she could hear the boy, and the mother, and the baby.

Sometimes, she could hear other voices coming from downstairs, too. The child’s toys, she figured.

They’re having so much more fun than me, I bet. Amy thought. She was never really a bitter person, but she couldn’t help but be a little jealous. OK, a lot jealous. But what could she do?

Wait.

That was it, all she could do. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She mantra’d in her head.

She was sick of it. She wanted to play! To have conversations! Where was the Adventure? While the toys in the little boy’s room were having much more fun than her. Amy elbowed a box in frustration.

A pile of old records and magazines fell on her head.

Yearsshe had been waiting. Decades, even. Amy used some spare chalk to keep track of the days she’d spent in the attic. Today was day number sixteen thousand, six hundred and eighty-six, to be exact.

Today was just another number, it was late afternoon. Amy stepped down from the boxes, covering the window with a curtain. She walked into the middle of the dusty room, thinking. Amy knew she could climb out the window, what if someone sawher? What if she slipped? What if, if she successfully got to a near window ledge, and the window was locked? What if the toys threw her back out for intruding? She couldn’t just stay here forever… but what if she did?

All these thoughts coursed through her cotton-stuffed head, her thoughts so loud she nearly didn’t hear the attic stairs being used, creaking with each step.

She was so shocked she ran and hid behind a vase, narrowly escaping being seen. Through a small hole in the box she peeked at the mother of the little boy and baby as she dumped some boxes and left.

TOYS IN THE ATTIC

“W-where are we?” a voice whispered nervously, other voices replied, “How am I supposed to know?!” “S-sorry…” “Let’s have a look!”

Amy stayed behind the shelf, peeking from behind a vase. She’d had been longing to speak to other toys for so long, so why was mind screaming for her to hide?

Four toys stepped out from the box. First, a rather foreign, futuristic-looking action hero who was a bit taller than Amy, with all sorts of fancy buttons and gadgets attached to them. “Which planet is this?” he asked his friend, a much taller, lanky ragdoll who wore boots with spurs and a cow-print vest over his checked shirt. he straightened his brown hat, taking in the surroundings. “It’s not another planet, Buzz, it’s just the attic.” He said calmly, or dryly, depending on how you read it. The third toy literally sprung out of the box, as he had a spring for a body with a dog’s head and backside at opposite ends. His springy body rattled and made a satisfying noise.

The last figure surprised Amy. A strange creature at first, well, all the toys looked strange and new to her, but this was by far the strangest.

He was a little bit shorter than the one in the hat, but only because he was hunched low, fumbling with his little arms. He was green, his scales made of plastic. Amy tried to place where she had seen a creature like that before, before it hit her: It was a dinosaur! A Tyrannosaurus Rex, to be exact.

She was so enamoured with the creature she leaned against the floral vase to get a closer look, as he observed the room with his friends.

But she leaned to hard, and the vase tipped and smashed. Amy ducked behind some plates before the strangers saw her.

The four toys turned to the sound of the noise, terrified. ‘Buzz’, as his friend had called him, pointed a shining red light attached to his arm at the broken pieces of porcelain.

“What was that?!” the Dinosaur whisper-screamed, hiding behind his friend. The Springy Dog turned to his friends, equally stricken, stating, “We gotta find a way outta here!”

The one in the hat nodded “You’re right, Slink.” he turned to the trap door at his feet, which got them there in the first place. He pulled at the latch, but it wouldn’t open. “It’s locked!” “And the dormer is sealed… it seems we’re trapped.” Buzz fathomed, after analysing the door on the floor.

The dinosaur started to freak out. “We can’t stay in here forever!” Buzz cut him off, “Come on, Rex, calm down!” This only made the poor thing ramble on more. “But what if Andy forgets we were in that box? We’ll be stuck here forever!” “Stop it!” the other three shouted at him, annoyed.

Amy felt the overwhelming need to go and comfort the poor thing, or, Rex, as they called him. She understood how he felt. It was dark and gloomy, (or Mirk, as Strange Words and Their Meanings would say.) She couldn’t blame him for being scared.

Amy wanted to help the other toys, but was confused as to how to introduce herself. She couldn’t just step out of nowhere, as Rex might just die of fright, and she didn’t want that.

Instead, she just kept listening to the other toys’ conversations.

“Maybe we can find another way out of here?” The one in the hat thought to himself. “Great idea, Woody!” Buzz praised, before striking a pose and exclaiming, “I’m ready for a new mission! Buzz Lightyear will have you out of this attic in a flash!”

The other toys just stared, deadpan, at him.

Slink spoke up, “It won’t be easy, we need to find something to light this place up first” Woody agreed, “Yeah, It’s getting dark, soon we won’t be able to see anything” “Oh, I don’t like this at all! I’m afraid of the dark!” Rex sputtered, Buzz shushed him “Quiet, I’m trying to analyse the problem” he thought for a moment, before declaiming, “We can use my laser for light!” he shined his laser into Slink’s eyes as an example. “I don’t think it’s enough to light the whole place up, Buzz.” Woody pressed gently, Slink scoffed, rubbing his eyes with his paws “Yeah, but it’s enough to blind me!” Amy giggled at their banter, as quietly as she could. “Maybe there’s some Christmas lights in here or something”

Woody though aloud, Rex nodded. “Yeah, there’s loads of old stuff here, we’re sure to find something!” Woody placed a hand on Buzz’s shoulder, “And you can always use your laser to see what’s inside the boxes” Buzz grinned.

“I’ll look in the closet!” Slink said over his shoulder, while Woody looked behind boxes with Buzz.

Rex gulped, standing in the middle of the room. He went to inspect the broken vase by the shelves. He was now so close Amy could see all the detailing in his plastic skin.

His eyes locked with hers, eyes wide, and he yelped in surprise. So did Amy.

“Rex! What happened?” Buzz called, his friends following him and rushing to the panicking dinosaur. Amy fell out from her hiding spot, finally exposed. What could she say? “H-h-hello…?” she said, awkwardly, to the other toys who stared at her.

FRIEND FOR LIFE

“Hello” Slink said first, going up to the frightened ragdoll and speaking softly. “It’s okay, we won’t hurt you, do ya have a name?” Amy got up from the floor, dusting off her denim dress nervously. “I-I’m Amy…” the ragdoll stuttered. Woody tipped his hat and shook her hand. “Well, nice to meet you, Amy, I’m Woody.” “Nice to meet you too.” Amy responded nervously. Buzz shook her hand next, firmer than Woody. “I am Buzz Lightyear, Space Ranger. I mean, well not really…well, it’s a long story.” Amy smiled. Slink was next. “I’m Slinky Dog, but you can call me Slinky or Slink if you want.”

Rex was last, he approached her more cautiously, shaking her hand nervously. “I’m Rex, nice to meet you, Amy.” he said warmly, before asking quickly afterwards, “Did I scare you? I’m supposed to be scary, ya’see, so please, tell me honestly.” Amy stuttered a response “N-nice to meet you, too, R-Rex, and I was terrified... But I’ve always wanted to meet a dinosaur.” Rex grinned bashfully, fiddling with his hands. “Really?” “Y-yes.” Rex giggled “I like you, Amy!”

Woody laughed and rolled his eyes. “You’ve made a friend for life, now, Amy. Do you know if there’s any way to get us out of here?” the cowboy asked, (not that Amy would know he was one at this point), but she answered, nodding, “There’s a window above those boxes there, behind that curtain.” she gestured at the tower of boxes in front of them, laid out in just a way that they looked like stairs.

Woody, Buzz and Slinky descended up the boxes. Rex looked at Amy, grinning. “Aren’t you gonna join us?” “Really? C-can I?” “Of course! We can’t just leave you in here! It’s scary! Besides, it’d be nice to have a you around!” Amy smiled, climbing the boxes to reach the others.

Once they reached the top, Buzz pushed back the curtain and while the other toys climbed out. Amy was last. She took one last look at the attic, before straightening her back and walking out on the window ledge.

ANDY’S ROOM.

A breeze hit Amy in the face as she stood on the window ledge outside. Her dark hair flew in front of her face in annoying tendrils. The sky had darkened considerably, which made it even more thrilling. Rex shivered, “Oh, it’s so high!” Amy nodded, looking down at the ground. Amy watched as the three other toys grabbed the drainpipe and slid down to the window just below. Woody waved from below “Come on! Someone could see us!” Amy stuttered “B-but what if I fall?” “You’ll be fine, I swear!” Amy smiled wearily. She gripped the drainpipe, took a deep breath, jumped and slid down to the side of the window.

She screamed internally, holding on for dear life. Her legs and arms wrapped around the pole, eyes looking down at the pavement where she would surely end up. She had only been still for about a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. Could she do this? Would she do this?

She jumped.

Landing in a heap, nearly knocking Woody and Buzz over.

Rex leapt next. He couldn’t properly jump, so Amy and Woody had to pull him into the window. “I’m alive!” Rex breathed, Woody rolled his eyes for what must have been the second or third time today.

Woody turned to Amy. “Welp, welcome to Andy’s room.” Amy turned to face the room.

It used to be Alice’s.

Now, everything was different. It was a strange feeling, nostalgia mixed with the feeling of being in a new place.

The shelf was always there, yes, still there, same colour, too, only with new bits and bobs and toys and books placed on it. Everything else was foreign and strange. Even the wallpaper.

Amy stepped on a desk that wasn’t there before, well, there was a desk there before, but it wasn’t this one.

Amy watched as the four other toys jumped down from the desk to a chair to the floor and copied their example, sort of. She fell in a tangle on the floor.

A group of toys surrounded the five, the first to speak was a funny looking creature with a mustache and a bowler hat with a Brooklyn accent, akin to the shape of a potato “Who’s the newbie?” he asked, Rex replied quickly “This is Amy, we rescued her from the attic!” Amy spoke up gently “Well, rescued is not a word I would choose, really, I’d say they more encouraged me to leave, I say they, but really-” a female voice cut her off “Well, whoever you are, welcome”

The speaker of these words was a porcelain doll, much taller than Amy, who smiled warmly yet dryly, with a skirt that flared out so wide it reminded Amy of a parachute. She carried a long blue cane, holding it professionally.

A small cluster of sheep made bleating noises at her feet. Amy guessed she must be a Shepard.

“I’m Bo Peep.” She stated, extending a hand. Amy shook it nervously. This woman radiated beauty, with her shiny porcelain skin and her golden curls. Amy felt slightly intimidated and uncomfortable under her blue gaze. “Hello, B-Bo, heh, that rhymes, doesn’t it? Nice to m-meet you, and I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you that same Bo Peep from that nursery rhyme?”

Bo smiled, amused at the ragdoll’s nervousness and tendency to drabble, letting down her guard a little bit. “Yes, I’m the same Bo from the nursery rhyme.” The ragdoll grinned uneasily. She remembered when Alice was little, she would read nursey rhymes.

“Andy’s comin’!” a toy yelled, a piggy bank whom Amy hadn’t been introduced too yet.

The other toys zipped in different directions at lightning speed, Amy didn’t know what to do.

So she fell to the ground, inanimate.

~A Dinosaur's Distress~

REPLACEMENT.

“These toys are so much better than my old ones, Mom!” Andy called as he rushed into his room.

He placed the big paper bag with the words ‘Dinosaur Museum’ he was carrying on his desk. “I never knew how many cooler dinosaurs there were!”

Rex cowered, his vision felt like he was watching the whole scene through a fish-eye lenses. He lay frozen, watching Andy tear away the plastic wrapping and boxes the toys were in.

“Andy! Dinner!” Andy’s mother called. Andy trudged downstairs reluctantly down stairs. “Coming!”

Rex felt like he was being choked, his mind clogged with rambling thoughts.

He’d always dreaded this.

Shakily, he moved his limbs, walking towards the desktop. He twiddled with his hands nervously and winced, so wrapped up with what could be up there that he didn’t notice his friends were missing.

He called out tentatively, “H-h-hello…?” he squeaked. The room felt both big and small, a nauseous, nightmarish feeling. But the most horrifying thing was how Rex was alone. No-one could stop him from panicking this time.

The new toys arose and jumped, slithered, crawled, and trudged down from the desk, towering over Rex and cornering him so quickly it was as if they were always there.

“Andy don’t need you no more…” one toy –if he, or maybe it, could be called one- slurred, grey saliva clung to his teeth in thick, sticky ropes. His scales rough and uneven, grotesque muscles rippling in a sickly shade of orange.

“You’re weak. Pathetic. Andy needs a toy that deserves him.” A purple one said, sickly yellow eyes narrowing. This one had many horns adorned to its face and body like piercings. Rex had never seen dinosaurs’ like them before.

The toys seemed to strangely multiply, each one different. Each one better them him. Scarier than him. And much stronger than him. They all taunted him. His anxiety, his arms, his cowardice.

One grabbed his arm with sharp taloned fingers, snickering. “Look at this! What kinda toy factory allowed this thing on sale?” He snickered. Others did the same. Jabbing and poking him till he could take it no more. Rex screamed.

“Stop! please,” he sobbed, pulling away and backing up against Andy’s starry wallpaper. The grotesque creatures just laughed bitterly, prodding him and pushing him and even hitting him.

“Oh, does that hurt?” (Saying it hurt was an understatement.)

“Look at those stupid arms! So flimsy!”

“Look at you! who would want you?”

“Pathetic!”

“Idiot!”

Rex tried screamed for his friends “S-STOP! PLEASE! H-HELP!”

The toys sneered. “They can’t hear you!” the tallest, largest one slurred with his sickly tongue. He was the worst-looking of the lot. His eyes bloodshot and his arms long and rippling with muscle. His bumpy scales the colour of green toxic waste, so ugly looking it glowed. His voice sounded like an earth-quake, loud and booming, yet scratchy, like nails against glass. “But if they did, why would they care? You’re their punching bag. Even they make fun of you!”

They began to taunt him again. Rex tried to cancel them out, squeezing his eyelids shut.

They laughed. Rex screamed again, though it did nothing.

He began to lose consciousness.

BREATHE.

“Rex?” Amy whispered, nudging him a little. Rex had been placed on the bed by Andy, -Who was getting ready for school- and had fallen asleep. Amy had been reading underneath the bed up until he had started muttering in his sleep.

Rex bolted awake, breathing heavily and shallowly, hyperventilating. All the other toys in the room turned and stared at him. Amy looked at him with a concerned expression. He’d been getting more and more jumpy lately since it was declared that Andy was going to the Museum.

Rex jolted awake, shaking like he’d seen a ghost.

Woody, who was also on the bed, went to the dino to see what was wrong. Rex pinned his small hands on the cowboy’s shoulders. “Where’s Andy?!” He said urgently, shaking the confused cowpoke. Woody looked at Rex, bewildered. “Getting ready to leave for school? Is everything alright?” “NO! Everything is NOT alright!” Rex screamed hysterically “Andy’s going to the Dinosaur Museum, and I’m gonna get replaced!” “No he’s not! If Andy was gonna get a new toy, he would have made some withdrawals. And Hamm would know about it.” Woody argued. Then he turned to Hamm, who was on the desk. “Hamm, has Andy made any withdrawals?” the cowboy asked. Hamm looked solemn. “Nope, only deposits.”

“See?” Woody said, trying to calm the dinosaur down. He did. A little.

The toys heard Andy talking to his Mother from inside the room. “Mom, can I have some money to bring to the Museum?” “Sure! I’ll give you five dollars.” “Thanks Mom!”

Hamm watched them leaves outside from the window, with Molly, of course, driving away in the car.

Rex froze. “So it’s true… I am going to be replaced…” he said sadly, quietly, his stress building up from there. “What should I do… what should I do… WHAT SHOULD I DO WOODY WHAT SHOULD I DO!?” Rex screamed, his claws dug in Woody’s shoulders again, shaking him.

The some of the toys –Buzz, Mr. Potato Head, Bo and Hamm- swarmed around the bed. “Rex! Calm down! Please!” Rex couldn’t hear them. he kept fretting. “I’m gonna be replaced! I can’t deal with this! Woody, I CAN’T! “REX!” Woody yelled, shrugging him away.

Amy watched on from behind, unsure what to do. Rex was stressing out, hyperventilating and fretting, all the toys swarming around him, cocooning him in loud noise and emotions, yelling at him to quieten down or he’ll wake the neighbours. Amy moved in front of Rex quickly, to give him some space and probably calm him and everyone else down, when a hand smacked her in the face and she fell to the duvet cover.

Everyone in the room stopped. Amy lay motionless, next to Rex, who stood in silent horror. Her dark hair covered her like a curtain, she wasn’t moving.

Rex stood still, shocked. “A-Amy?” He stuttered. The other toys backed away. Buzz looked shook. He didn’t mean for that to happen…

Amy stirred. “R-Rex...? what happened…?” She murmured. Then it came back to her. “Are-are you okay?” she asked Rex, he looked taken aback. “A-Are you kidding? Y-y-you just got slapped! I-I should be asking you!” he said, still shaking after his outburst, his breathing still shallow, but his voice quieter, making sure his friend was alright. “No, you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.” She answered, while getting up, with deep concern for her friend. “Amy, you- you’re hurt!” Rex exclaimed. Amy touched her cheek were Buzz had hit her.

She could feel soft stuffing coming out of a small cut on her cheek, she gasped.

She turned to Buzz. “Why did you do that?” she asked softly, in shock. Buzz stammered. “I-I’m so sorry, Amy, I didn’t mean to hurt you…” he started. Amy then looked at him with a soft expression. “What about Rex?” the ragdoll replied. She spoke quietly, still dazed. Buzz gulped. “I thought it would…” “Would what?” “…I don’t know.”

Buzz moved closer to Rex. The dinosaur jerked back, still freaking out. Buzz put his hands up in peace. “Rex, I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. It was a foolish mistake.” Rex nodded slowly, understanding “I-I understand.” He still looked shaky. He whimpered. He felt terrible. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He mantra’d in his head. How could he have been so stupid? How could he… all thoughts and sounds pressed against him, squeezing his chest.

Amy turned to Rex. “Rex,” she whispered softly, “What’s wrong?” Rex stayed silent for a beat before speaking. Despite not really having a throat, his voice came out hoarse. “I’m g-going to be r-replaced, Amy, and Andy’s going to get a-a dinosaur w-w-who’s much better than me…” he rambled. He shook, fidgeting with his hands.

The other toys weren’t sure what to do. Rex always was a neurotic, but seeing him freak out like this saddened them.

Amy locked eyes with Rex, backing away from him far enough to give him space to breathe.

“Breathe,” Amy told him gently, “Deep breaths, and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

He took one shaky breath. Then he took another. And another. And another. He could feel air coming in and out of him a bit more normally now.

That was a start.

“Do you want me to talk to you alone? You’ll feel better if you talk it out.” Amy assured. Rex nodded.

ASSURANCE

Amy was walking around the room with Rex, trying to calm his nerves. The other toys had gone back to their own business, a tad confused, and more than a bit worried for their friend.

“W-what about your cut?” Rex asked, Amy dismissed it with a wave of her mitten-like hand, like having her face carved up with stuffing peeking out was the most normal thing. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with it later, I need to help you first.” She said calmly, absently brushing her cheek. It felt weird, kind of numb, but she would fix it later. Then she added, “And you shouldn’t worry about being replaced, either.” She thought for a moment, calculating what to say next. Could she dare to ask why?

They walked in silence for a while before Amy broke it. “Rex, why are you so worried?” she asked softly, hoping she wasn’t going to upset him. Surprisingly, Rex replied better than she expected.

“Andy g-got me from the Museum…” he started shakily. “The toy company that I was owned by and the Museum had an agreement to sell toys there…” his gaze drifted away from the ragdoll, into the past.

“…I remember the children pointing at me, saying “Hey, look how small it’s arms are!” and ‘and “Heh, look at his dopey face” … They were always more interested in the scarierlooking toys… not me.” Rex trailed off.

“I learnt that the Tyrannosaurus Rex is supposed to be the most fearsome dinosaur –no, creature- to rule the earth.

There were posters in the gift shop where I lived, before Andy. Scary, big pictures of dinosaurs, roaring and growling, scaring everyone… They were respected. And children thought they were cool.

I wanted that. I wanted to be respected. But whenever I try, I become an idiot. I can barely roar. I know everyone in this room thinks I’m annoying, and I don’t blame them. And I don’t hate them for it.

I just know, one day, maybe even today, Andy’s going to get a newer, respectful dinosaur, and I’m going to be abandoned. Discarded. Because I can’t even do what I was made to do. to be scary.

I want to be scary, because I know that’s the only way people will like me. I was alone in that gift shop; no one would talk to me… they hated me for being myself. For not being what they expected me to be.” he paused, before laughing ruefully, sadly. Trying to keep it together, trying to keep from crying. He’d been needing to tell someone that for a long time. “I must be acting really pathetic, huh? And your p-probably bored… forget what I said…” Amy shook her head as if that was the silliest thing she’d ever heard. “No, you’re just talking to me because you’ve had no one to talk to. You shouldn’t pretend to be someone you’re not just to be loved or feared. That’s crazy. We all like you for being you.

You’re special to Andy. And even if he does get a new dinosaur, Andy will play with the both of you. It’s like Woody and Buzz, remember when you told me how much they hated each other at the start?” He nodded. After Amy had arrived to Andy’s room, Rex had felt responsible to tell her everything that had happened to him and his friends. “Well, you’re sure to have a friend in that new dinosaur, if Andy gets one.”

Rex wasn’t so sure. “But what if the new dinosaur is bad? Like… evil?” “Well then, we’ll just do what Woody did and throw him out of the window the window.” She said, smirking. Rex laughed.

PATCHED-UP.

The rest of the day had gone without error, for a room as chaotic as Andy’s. Amy now sat down on top of Andy’s desk as Rex tried to sew Amy back up. She had politely declined at first, but Rex had insisted. He wanted to help, but also, unknown to Amy, because he had nothing to do but worry otherwise otherwise. Also, he felt safer when he was with his friend.

Amy noted the small hollows beneath Rex’s eyes; from all the worrying, she presumed sadly. The poor thing…

She watched as he sewed her cheek up with a needle and a small piece of thread while Amy was seated on top of some building blocks so Rex could reach her. Rex was, surprisingly, really good at sewing. Probably because his fingers were small and nimble. Checking the stitches weren’t loose, he tied the thread off. you’d never know the cut had been there.

Rex remembered, with guilt, how Amy had got the cut in her cheek in the first place. “I’m sorry about your cut…” Rex apologized.

Amy sighed softly. “Well what could I have done? I couldn’t just let you get hit.” “But it’s my fault he tried to hit me in the first place! If I hadn’t’ve freaked out the way I did, if I hadn’t been so dramatic, you wouldn’t have gotten hit! It’s all my fault…” he looked like he’d let her down.

But he hadn’t. “You couldn’t have acted any other way. You were scared, you couldn’t control yourself. and I understand that. And I promise that if you ever feel like that again, I’ll help you. I don’t care how hurt I get; I’ll be able to sew myself back up afterwards.” She smirked.

Rex sighed. “But I was being dramatic! And needy… while I’m whining about my own life… you were cooped up in that attic…” “You were anxious; everyone is dramatic when they’re anxious.” “You’re not…” Rex trailed off. “You’re much braver than me.” He admitted. Amy sighed. But not out of annoyance. “Yes, you are.” Amy countered. “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here. And it was brave of you to tell me why you were scared in the first place, it shows good character.” “… it shows good character to be a fraidy cat?” “Yep. When you’re scared, you become stronger by facing what scares. And I know you can face them, Rex.” Amy smiled at him. “What if I can’t?” “You can. And I’ll be right beside you if you need me, no matter what.” “T-thank you, Amy.” Rex stuttered, but grinning.

Well, if Amy thinks he could, he thought, maybe he can.

GLOWING.

Rex fiddled with his hands nervously in the remaining hour till Andy got home. Amy, Hamm, Woody, and Slinky tried to distract the dino with a game of cards.

“He’s coming!” Mr. Potato Head yelled, and the other toys ran back to their places. Amy helped Rex back onto the bed. The dinosaur in question had a pained expression on his face. And he whimpered, staring into space. Amy smiled sympathetically “You’re going to be fine, Rex, I promise.” She whispered reassuringly, before going limp as Andy burst into the room.

To Rex’s dismay, he was carrying a paper bag. Just like the one in his nightmare. Just like the one he’d came in years’ prior today. He felt sick. So this is it…Andy grinned and took the object out of the box, ripping it’s packaging. I’m doomed… Rex thought, he tried to focus on what Amy had said, but he couldn’t…

Rex wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or laugh as Andy pulled out what he had bought.

It was a lamp. He had worked himself up. For a lamp. Its lampshade had a Jurassic landscape on it, with T-Rexes and Triceratopses and other dinosaurs on it.

Andy spotted Rex on the bed. His face lit up. “Look! It’s the most fearsome creature on the planet!” He grabbed Rex and a few other toys, and started playing.

This playtime, Rex was a ferocious, toy-eating carnivore, stomping across the saloon, eating all in sight. (Even cacti!) He had taken Amy hostage, and she screamed in his grasp, trying to swat him away with her soft cotton hands to no avail. “Help me! Help me please!” she screamed. Luckily, Woody and Buzz, (Ever the dynamic duo,) defeated Rex. Buzz had distracted him with his laser, and Rex followed it like a cat, entangling him in Woody’s lasso, (Slinky). Andy’s Mother then called him downstairs for dinner/tea.

As the toys sprung to life, happy about tonight’s playtime, Rex was undoubtedly the happiest. He grinned at Amy, who was beside him. “You were right.” He said, Amy beamed, “See? What did I tell you? Andy would never replace you.” Rex blanched. “Yeah, but why…?” “... Because who would?” Amy muttered to herself. She wasn’t sure if Rex heard, and she wasn’t quite sure why she had said it.

It was true that she was fond of Rex, but of course, not that fond. After all, he was a dinosaur, and she was a ragdoll, it would just be far too strange. And what if Andy gets another dinosaur... one with pretty scales…? Amy thought with worriment, before snapping out of it. Oh now I’m doing it! She mentally scolded herself, as she and Rex continued to converse.

That night, when Andy was getting ready for bed, the lamp was the only source of light. Silhouettes of dinosaurs patterned the walls with a warm yellowy glow. Rex watched the dinosaur shadows with amusement. Amy had been right. But say, if Andy ever did get a dinosaur, he or she, or they, for that matter, no matter how cool or scary they were, could never replace him. Also, he decided, if Andy did, it might not be so bad.

Especially if the other dinosaur was just as kind as Amy.

[zeldaparker]

“Ella don’t go too far into the woods sweetheart!” my wife Margot called from the porch as our daughter skipped towards the woods.

“I won’t!” Ella called back as she disappeared into the woods. It wasn’t abnormal that Ella went off into the woods alone, she loved nature and exploring, what better place for both than the woods just off of our back yard, it was safe and she never went deep into them.

“I hope she doesn’t bring back more caterpillars for pets, I don’t think we have enough mason jars for more.” Margot sighed before sipping her lemonade.

“Well if she does I’ll text David to pick some up on his way over tonight.” I replied.

“What time was he coming over again?”

“I told him we’d start up the BBQ at 4:45, and you know my brother, he’ll be here by 4:00”

Margot laughed, “your parents must have had some time, a son who’s chronically early, and a daughter who’s chronically late!”

I playfully swatted her shoulder, “I haven’t been late since I met you!” I retorted. We kept up our loving bickering while watching the birds and small animals go in and out of the woods.

“Helen…” Margot said tentatively after what must have been over 2 hours, “Ella should be back from exploring by now.”

“Yeah, she should be.” I said getting off our porch swing. I walked to the edge of the porch. “Ella!” I shouted.

No response.

Margot got up and joined me at the banister. “Think we should go looking for her?”

“Yeah, she’s usually back after a couple hours,” I said. I grabbed my phone, “let's just start down the path she usually takes then go from there.”

“Alright,” she said, and we started down the path towards the woods. We searched the entrance of the woods for a while, calling out Ella’s name with no luck.

“I think we should report her missing to the police.” I said, turning to Margot. We had been searching for so long that we lost track of time.

“I agree,” Margot sighed as she pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

Ding

I took my phone out of my pocket, it was David texting saying that he was at the front door.

‘Come to the woods, Ella’s missing,’ I replied. I put my phone back in my pocket and scanned the area. We were standing in the woods’ entrance, it was full of trees but there were enough of them to denote the start of the forest. This was as far as Ella would dare to go, deeper into the woods you couldn’t navigate without extreme difficulty. Where I stood, where Ella should have been, your line of vision of course had trees but you could see between and around them. There was no reason a 7 year old would go deeper into the woods.

I waited impatiently as Margot spoke with the 911 operator. I didn’t know where my daughter was and I was scared. I hugged my arms close to my body as I looked around again, searching for any sign of Ella. I spotted movement and got excited, hoping to see my daughter but instead my brother emerged from the trees. He must have seen the joy leave my face as the first thing he said was “I can start looking deeper if you guys want.”

Margot shook her head, “no, the police are on the way, they want us to wait by the house, they don’t want us lost as well”

“Alright,” David replied, he wrapped his arms around our shoulders and walked us back to the house.

The police came and searched, there was no sign that Ella had been in the forest. Margot and I were heart broken. The next day they brought more people, and the next even more. By the end of the month they had completely grid searched the woods, and searched them with cadaver dogs, but no signs of our Ella. Life was not the same without Ella, but we never gave up hope. We searched the woods every day for almost three years, hoping, praying for a sign outside of our house that our daughter existed. David moved into our spare bedroom to help out as most of mine and Margot’s focus and care was on searching for our daughter.

As I walked hand in hand with Margot deep within the woods on the third anniversary of Ella’s disappearance, I spotted something we never had spotted before in the forest, a porcelain doll. I pulled Margot to a halt, “That's new,” I said walking over and picking up the doll. It wasn't a pretty doll, her lacy dress was tattered, dirty, and stained; her eyes were overly glossy, and she was missing a third of her dirty blonde hair. But something about the doll screamed at me to bring it home, to take care of it, I gently brushed the doll's matted hair with my fingers.

“We should head back before David gets worried,” Margot said, gently taking the doll out of my hands, she paused and looked as mesmerized by it as I felt. There was something about this hideous doll and neither of us knew why but we needed it.

“Yeah,” I said before we walked back through the woods and to the house. I opened the door for Margot and followed her into the living room. She placed the doll on the mantle of the fireplace and smiled sadly at me. I softly kissed her cheek. “We’ll find Ella one day, Hun.” I said and took her hand in mine.

“Hey sis,” David said as he walked into the living room, he looked at me and Margot then at the doll. “Where did you guys find that...” he paused, trying to find a word, “interesting doll?” He settled on.

“Helen found it while we were searching the woods. Something just told me we needed to bring her home.” Margot replied.

“Are you two sure you want to keep it? it’s kind of decrepit.”

“I mean we keep you around,” I teased, ruffling David’s messy hair.

“Ok, ok, fair point,” he laughed, before changing his tone back to serious, “if the creepy doll gives you two some sort of happiness or hope we can keep it.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“But if it tries to kill me, I'm throwing it away.” David smirked. I punched his shoulder.

The rest of the day went by relatively normal. Margot and I caught up on some reading, did some chores (which David was elated about), and then went to bed. Margot got up before me like usual, however I was woken up by screaming. “Where is the doll!” Margot shouted from elsewhere in the house.

“I don’t know! I didn’t touch it!” David shouted back. The arguing continued as I groggily got out of bed, I wasn't a morning person and I hated being woken up. Rubbing my eyes I made my way out of mine and Margot’s bedroom, I walked down the hall to see what the fuss was about but something made me pause at Ella’s room. I hesitantly placed my hand on the handle, fearing that it might burn me. I gently turned the knob and opened the door. Nothing aside from a thick layer of dust had changed in Ella’s rooms since the last time she was in it 3 years ago, nothing except for the dust, and the porcelain doll. I froze when I saw the doll, sitting on the edge bed, exactly how Ella sat on her bed.

My blood went cold, and my voice froze in my throat. “Margot, David?!” I managed to stutter out eventually. My eyes locked with the dolls' overly glossy eyes. “Margot, David?!” I said louder, not daring to move a muscle. I heard their footsteps coming up the steps.

“What?” Margot asked, from her voice I could tell she was still angry with David. I just pointed at the doll. All sound stopped, it was so quiet I could hear my own heart beat. “What kind of cruel trick is this?” Margot spat at David.

“I swear I didn’t touch it. I don’t even go into Ella’s room!” David replied.

They said more but I tuned them out, focused in on the tiny doll like footprints in the dust on the floor. “I think David is telling the truth, look at the floor.” I said. There was no way anyone could get into the room without leaving footprints in the dust, and the only footprints I could see could never belong to a human. I felt Margot take a shaky breath beside me.

“What the hell?” David said.

I took a steadying breath and stepped into the room. I took another step, and another, making my way across the room to Ella’s bed. I picked up the doll and just stated in shock.

“I'm sorry I thought it was you David.” Margot said, her breath shaky. I walked back out of the room in disbelief the doll was warm to the touch.

“I have an Idea, a stupid idea but an idea none the less.” I said, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Margot and David followed closely. I placed the doll on the table, “David can you grab a paper and pen, Margot can you grab a shot glass, or just a clear glass of some sort?”

David’s eyes went wide, “you think it’s smart to make a Ouija board?”

“No, but the only footsteps in the room were tiny, and the doll was warm when I picked her up. Porcelain isn't just warm for no reason… I don’t like the idea either but what other idea do you have? Dolls just don't move on their own.” I said as Margot placed a glass cup onto the table.

“I say do it, nothing can be worse than losing your daughter.” Margot said, looking David dead in the eye. David nodded in understanding, he may be a dork but you couldn't ask for a better brother. He left the room for a couple minutes and came back in with a pen and paper, he placed them on the table, and we each took a seat. I pulled the paper and pen towards me and started writing out the alphabet, the numbers 0 to 9, hello, and goodbye.

“Here goes nothing.” I said as I placed the glass on the paper. We all placed a couple fingers on the makeshift planchette. “Who are you?” I asked. The glass moved swiftly.

“E-L-L-A” David read out. Ella. My heart stopped, I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I knew Margot could as well.

“Are-Are you the doll?” I asked. The glass moved again, I looked up at Margot and David and just by the looks on their faces I knew none of us were moving it.

“M-O-M-M-I-E-S-I-M-S-C-A-R-D” David read out again. Mommies I'm scared. My breath caught in my throat, it felt like I couldn't breath. The glass moved again on its own without prompt. “I-T-T-O-O-K-M-Y-B-O-D-Y” David spelt in a shaky voice. It took my body.

“What took your body sweet heart?” Margot asked, her voice filled with fear.

“T-H-E-T-H-I-N-G-T-H-A-T-W-A-S-I-N-T-H-E-D-O-L-L” David looked horrified. The thing that was in the doll. I couldn’t breath, my daughter was in a doll, and she thinks something is in her body. “How do we know it’s you Ella?” David asked skeptically. “M-A-A-L-W-A-Y-S-G-A-V-E-M-E-C-A-N-D-Y-E-V-E-N-W-H-E-N-M-O-M-M-Y-S-A-I-D-N-O” ma always gave me candy even when mommy said no. Ella only ever called me ma, and well I was wrapped around her little finger, if she wanted candy I rarely said no. Ella always called Margot mommy and she was more strict with treats.

I nodded at Margot, “sorry Hun.” I could feel tears streaming down my face at this point.

“N-O-E-N-E-R-G-Y” the glass then slide over to ‘goodbye’. The three of us sat frozen, fingers still on the glass, no one knew what to think, Margot was sobbing but other than that the house was deathly silent. The silence was broken by a knock on the door, mechanically I got up and answered the door. There was a police officer with a 3 year older looking Ella.

“Ma’am, we’ve found your daughter.”

[mysymmetry]

Two poems

Something odd in that house, a feeling that I must flourish down the stairs in an elegant robe, sip coffee from bone thin porcelain and deepen the wrinkles on my concerned brow. Why do we live like this? With ceilings so high and a pass-through opening onto a mandarin backsplash, jars requiring two hands of oats, spelt, sesame seeds, olive oil. Each window is rimmed in perfect silver, square-framed on every calculated view, the field of purple cone flowers, the driveway, the trellised peonies crawling with fat black ants whose three perfect sections - head, body and bum - seal together like stained glass. They are so large you can see their eyes, and hear their bodies drop on the tile and scuttle. The night we went to Trust, downtown was so lit up by every string of Costco lights, and the yellow blur from the indoor fixtures bled onto the street through condensation on rarefied glass. The din of pop music from Fids, bolete empty again, THE MERCHANT ALE HOUSE still standing proud, belly out, wooden fixtures swollen. Kirstin, Sophie and I swerved into the street, & triangulated a plan, urging me to find my power, to step inwards for just a moment to ask. It felt a lot like being drunk, just being there. Back under a dark, faraway sky, yellow-lit streets, bass thumping from an unseen dance joint. "Ask me if I want to go to Trust" said Sophie and her body jolted when she said yes. "Okay, but we'll do a driveby to see if anybody is there before we decide. For safety." "You'll be completely safe. You're with us." They cruised in ahead of me, as my thoughts concentrated between my eyebrows, sensing the electric fuzz of the city like a satelite tuned to your whereabouts. They came back around the corner light a cavacade of motorcycles,and looked me dead in the eye: He's not there. Neither of them are there. Unexpected. Where were they? Who cares. You're safe. We circled a high-top on the edge of the seating area, and every time a friend came around the corner I reached my arm out and grazed them, hugged over the barrier, tensed my body into theirs. He didn't show. He didn't show. He didn't show.

[bolazuli-blog]

Gophie 1 + Thoughts

Goph*e

There might be a way of describing her - but it’s hard to find it. She might be of the palest porcelain, or as black as ebony. Either way, her skin is most definitely smooth. Goph*e Strange spelling, eh? Peculiar. That’s because she doesn’t write her ‘i’s’ with ‘i’s’. Instead she uses *’s. Stars. She believes that stars ask her questions - and that it is her duty to answer. That if she doesn’t - she’ll turn into a ball of nothing. Goph*e Pronounced ‘Gophie’ like ‘Sophie’ but ‘Gophie’ And spelt with a star.

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“Why did you do it?” “I didn’t.” “That’s what you say. But the groundskeeper saw you.” “He didn’t see nothing.” “CALLING ME BLIND?” “I didn’t call you anything.” “So why did he say he saw you?” “Maybe he thought he saw me because maybe he had a drink.” “Apologise.” “I’m sorry…” … .. “Where was histor?” “Excuse me?” “Where was histor?” “What’s that?” “Histor.” “Oh, Histomie?” “We found something. It said, ‘Where was histor?’ Does that mean anything to you?” “I don’t know what histor is. I know a Histomie?” “Who’s that?” “A girl/boy. I think she was a girl but now she’s a boy, but she doesn’t call herself a boy.” “What does she call herself?” “Human.” “Was she also involved in the raid?” “What raid?” “Was - she - involved?” … .. “I don’t know what raid you’re talking about.” “You don’t know which raid I’m talking about.” “I don’t know which raid you’re talking about.” “So there were more raids?” “I’ve heard of raids, I’ve never been part of them.” “LIAR, I SAW YOU!” “Groundskeeper, I’ll be speaking from this point.” “Yes Ma’am.” … “What’s your name?” … “Sophie.” “Sophie?” “Yes.” “Like…Sophia?” “Yes, that’s my full name. Sophiandria.” “Why are you lying?” “Because you know my name.” “Don’t lie to me again, please.” … “Don’t lie to me again, please…” “Yes Madame.” “And don’t call me that.” “Yes Miss.” “Yes Ma’am.” “Yes Ma’am."

“What’s your name?” “Goph*e.” “Gophie?” “Yes.” “Yes?” “Ma’am.” “Ma’am?” … ... “Yes Ma’am.” “Yes, Gophie.” … “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Gophie?” “No, Ma’am.”

“Where does Histomie live?” “In blue house.” “Blue house?” “Oh sorry. Before the new rules, Cobalt was Blue.” “House Cobalt.” “Yes Ma’am.” “And where do you live?” “House Cobalt.” “The closest house to the Common Ground.” “Yes Ma’am” “And you …know nothing of the raid?” “I don’t know if there was a raid, Ma’am.” “What do you mean?” “I mean…I heard screams and people laughing, and I saw the fires outside - but I thought a raid was when a place was invaded and interrogated.” “You’re a smart girl, Gophie.” “Yes, Ma’am” “Stop.” … “Groundskeeper…” “MA’AM?” “Stop shouting.” “yes ma’am.” “Groundskeeper…” “ma’am?” “They wore masks.” “YES MA’AM. CLOWN MASKS.” “Groundskeeper…” “MA’AM?” “Stop shouting.” “yes, ma’am.” “Clown masks?” “Yes, Ma’am. Blue Faces, Ma’am. Red lips and white eyes, Ma’am. “Clowns?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Is this one of the clown masks?” … “I think so, Ma’am.” “You think so?” “It weren’t so burnt up when I seen it, Ma’am” “But this was the mask that they were wearing?” “Yes Ma’am.” “Was Gophie wearing one?” “No, Ma’am.” … “Gophie?” “Yes, Ma’am?” “Were you wearing one of these masks?” “No, Ma’am.” “Have you seen these masks before?” “This particular mask, Ma’am?” “Stop being smart.” “What do you mean?” “Have you seen one of these masks before?” “Yes I have.” “Where?” “Here.” “YOU LITTLE SHITE.” “Groundskeeper…” “BUT SHE’S A SHITE. A LYING SHITE.” “Groundskeeper…” “YES MA’AM?” “Keep it down.” “YES MA’AM.” “Groundskeeper.” “Ma’am?” “Keep it down.” … “Can I go now?” “Is there somewhere you need to be?” “I told my friends that we’d be playing Night Scotch.” “What time did you tell them that you’d be playing Night Scotch?” “7.” “7 O’Clock?” “Yes…Ma’am.” “It’s not 7 O’Clock yet.” “But I want to be there on time.” “You’d still be on time if you left in thirteen minutes.” “But I want to get ready first.” “You are ready.” “I want to change first.” “Can’t you play in uniform?” “I’m better without.” … ... “Your friends can wait.” … “Where else have you seen this mask?” “In the Common Ground.” “Have you seen this mask on someone’s face before, Gophie?” “No, I haven’t.” “Just on the Common Ground?” “Yes, Ma’am.” … “What were you doing on the Common Ground?” “I wanted to know what happened.” “Did you find out?” “Just that people had…raided it. Burned it.” “What people?” “I don’t know.” “But you heard people talk.” “I did?” “Did you hear people talk, Gophie?” “Yes.” “Yes?” “Ma’am” “Yes, Ma—“ “—Yes, Ma’am.” … … “Yes, Ma’am.” … … ... “Yes, Ma’am, Gophie.” … ... “Yes…Ma’am.” “Gophie, you’d be better off cooperating.” “Yes, Ma’am.” “And you’d be better of doing so without attitude.” “Yes, Ma’am.” “And you’d be better off doing so without being smart with me. Do you understand? Gophie, do you understand what I’m saying to you?” “Yes Ma’am.” “Would you like to be a Ma’am one day, Gophie?” “I would not.” “And why not?” “I want to be a pilot.” “Females shouldn’t be pilots.” … “I said females shouldn’t be pilots.” … “okay.” “Do you know why they should not be pilots?” “I don’t.” “Would you like to know why, Gophie?” “I would not, Ma’am.” “Then I won’t tell you. But do me a favour - return to me once you’ve tired of that dream, Gophie - and I’ll give you some damn advice.”

��

I have a lot of energy I don’t want - that I need to spend. It feels like my entire body is a prison for whatever is inside. And right now it feels like there’s nothing inside me but something that’s a little like sadness but not as comforting. Thankfully, I think I know what to do. I won’t find the answer in hoping. What I need to feel better is available right now…this very moment. I don’t need to send wishes to tomorrow - I need to make it happen right the fuck now. I’ve been bedraggled with bad company for the last week…It’s my fault - I let them in. I had everything in place for a successful solitude… but, for some reason, unbeknownst to I, people have found their way into my house and they won’t be leaving soon. Well, they won’t be leaving now. Maybe a couple of days or three. But that doesn’t solve my current predicament… which, by the way, is to get these people out of my space, out of my space so that I can spend the entirety of my time thinking about myself and how lonely I am, and how quiet my life is. That’s what it is - quiet. Why? Well, because it’s not loud. I’m used to activity….or, rather, I’ve warmed to it. I like the feeling of feeling rushed, or like I have too many things to do WHILE doing them… Now, I feel like I have things to do…I’m just letting them pile up into a slushy castle of mud, until it all just slushes right back down again. Just imagine it…trying to build a castle out of really slushy mud….you never get anywhere. I’ve tried. Or at least I think I probably have, otherwise where would I have gotten that ridiculous analogy from? I’m afraid of a few things. Death is not one of them… at least not my own Death. The Death of others, maybe… but that’s not what carries my mind these days. Actually, I think that if I thought more about death, I’d be doing more. I’d do more to keep it at bay. But right now it’s like I’m saying, “meh, come get me if you want. meh, go get them if you’d like.” Death isn’t on my mind. I am on my mind. Constantly. Constantly thinking of how particular my life is. How constrained I feel, how lucky I am to be able to laze around, each day, doing little to nothing, just wasting away because I can, and using the excuse of ‘But why?’ to keep my ass from working. But WHY THOUGH? Why work? Why is work necessary? I’m right… it isn’t. I’m just a lucky fuck who doesn’t NEED to work because his mother’s got the bills, and his older brothers and sisters will give him a hand if he desperately needed it….which he absolutely does not. I think one of the problems is… I’ve made myself out to be something more than I am. People lauded me with all sorts of attributes… they’ve called me handsome, wise, talented, intelligent, witty, caring, happy…all sorts of stuff….and now I’ve trapped myself within myself and with all these things that I’m trying to hold on to, lest people be disappointed with their idea of me. But that’s just it, isn’t it? It’s an idea of me…people have fallen in love with an idea. These things are not WHO I AM. Sure I might crack a joke one day, or offer advice, or ask questions, or whatever… Sure I may be a beautiful singer. But I was more than that before they summed me up. And now I’ve taken their titles and I’m there trying to balance a baseless crown on my head, like a fucking joke. I should be ashamed at how far I’ve come with this farce of a life. I should be downright and upright ashamed with a capital A. Ashamed. You know I spend most of my time thinking about my sexuality… because I, in the last 5 months, have made it a priority. It was a slow progression at first…now the thing has consumed my life. THESE WERE NOT MY THOUGHTS A YEAR AGO. Maybe a little bit… but I wasn’t fucking concerned with what Yusuf Ali, a completely irrelevant person in my life, thought about me….let alone what he thought about my sexuality. Well…because, a year ago he didn’t know. He still doesn’t know. But judging by the post I put up a week or so back….yeah, he probably thinks I’m gay. Which isn’t far from the truth. I am attracted to men. I just haven’t done anything about it. Ever. It’s just a thing that’s there floating like that tiny bit of shit that just didn’t flush down with the rest. Just bobbing there, staring at me, with the same wistful expression. What a shame. What a shambles. And what a pile of self-righteous nonsense I’ve been spewing.

It’s like I actually LOVE myself. I must. I must be so totally in love with myself to believe that this is what life is. Just me. In my head. With people around to endure….until the day that I don’t need to be around them anymore. This is life? With an entire Universe circling around me always? Things have occurred before me and will occur after me….why am I so concerned with myself? Is this the human condition? Is this why we’ve been given ‘intelligence’? So we can intellectualise ourselves into graves? I feel like a walking dead person… Kinda. Like a dead person, who’s alive every so often…but, most of the time, is very dead. Walking and talking… but dead. I don’t quite know why or when I started feeling this way. It’s like it just began, like that was that….it just began and that was that. I just started being all philosophical and ponderous, with my fist on my fucking chin and my pipe in my fucking hand. Weed. Marijuana. I blame you. I’m sure you’re the reason a bunch of us can’t get a grip. Because it puts us…Weed puts us on another plane… One some may refer to as ‘higher’ … but I’ve come to see it as….just another fucking plane, where, if you also smoke, then we can relate…. but if you don’t… then, I’ll just be in my head, relating to myself. Maybe that’s it. I spent a LOT of time alone, smoking. I got VERY used to being by myself and smoking. Before smoke it was edibles. I’d cook the weed into eggs, noodles, tea, sauces. And it’d hit me harder. But that was before I dared to smoke. And now I dare. And now tobacco too. Things I thought I’d never do. I now do. But I suppose I could say that about a lot of things… There was a time I thought I’d never kiss anyone… ….then I got my lips slobbered on by a dog. By dog I mean a man. In a fucking club… literally sucking on my face and I just stood there thinking…. ‘why?’. Just stood there thinking, “eww” and “cease” and “desist”. It was so awkward for me. Not for him. He looked like he was high out of his face. Came to me with tobacco in his breath and decided to lick my fucking face. Am I a popsicle? But am I? Why you licking my face? Am I bone marrow? Only Africans would know about that. Or I presume that only Africans SUCK THAT MARROW RIGHT OUT OF THAT BONE. That it’s only Africans that TRULY relish the animal. I can’t stand to see them white people leave those chicken bones on the plate… They literally take three bites out of the chicken and leave the fucking rest on the plate, skin and meat and everything. Mate. Nope. Not I. I will gnaw on that bone until it’s white. Damn fucking straight. Leave meat on a bone…what a load of rubbish. Who teaches that nonsense? Ooh, you know what I was thinking of the other day? White superiority stuff.. Now…I don’t walk around thinking “oooh, white people have a superiority complex thingy….” or that they generally think that they're better than everyone else. I just think…that from an early age…a lot of white people literally get what they want by either asking for it or crying for it. A LOT of white babies put their parents THROUGH THE WORKS…because their parents just won't say no. Well, they might…but if that kid keeps crying…the parent WILL give in. You should see the way some white kids tell their parents to shut up.. See the way they order these parents around. The people that brought you into the world, yeah? Just tooooooootally bamboozle them. Nuts. I’m there watching like ? LIKE ? So what I’m saying is… these white kids get their way with GOD….GOD being their parents….as in…THE reason for your life, the very first system of order, the pillars of all that’s powerful and knowledgable. These white kids can literally say “fuck you” to GOD….and GOD will either cry about it or shrug it off….but GOD ain’t about to discipline the child. SO….a lot of these white babies grow up….with the belief that they are entitled to whatever the fuck they want…why? Because GOD said so. Because GOD said… do whatever the fuck you want…I’ll be here for you always. Is this good? Is this bad? That’s not my business. It’s just a thing I’ve noticed and grown bored of talking about.

However…as a final note. I don’t want to, nor do I actually, see ALL white people as silver-spooned Mr and Mrs Uppity. AHHH, remember Mr Men books? Mr Men and Little Miss. They were bomb. As in…THE bomb. (not adding ‘the’ before ‘bomb’ is the in thing now… so instead of saying ‘that cake was the bomb’…you’d say ‘that cake was bomb’) … I don’t know.

[gorgeoussuperhero-blog]

Obscurity

Goodbye (chapter 5)

My eyes fluttered open to a padded wall room. There was a single light shining down into the room, showing that the only furniture there was the metal cot I was sitting on.

I looked down at my body. My knife and tablet were gone, replaced by a skin implant like the one Mason had on the back of his neck. My bracelet and staff were also missing being replaced by implants as well.

I swung my legs off the bed and laid my hands in my lap fiddling with my fingers. There was only one explanation for where I was. I was in a holding cell of the G.R. base. Soon they'd be coming and I didn't want to imagine what they would do, what forms of torture they would use.

The door swung open and in fell Mason, crumbling to his knees. I held my breath, remembering the simulator, and just as in the simulator he was wearing the black leather jumper which was ripped open in different places to reveal lash marks. Tears slowly started to form in my eyes as I looked at him. This wasn't possible, it couldn't be. I shook my head but stopped when I caught him staring at me. His eyes were full of pain. I couldn't hold back the tears anymore and they started to spill down my face as I knelt down next to him. I wrapped his head in my arms and held it to my shoulder. I buried my face into his dirty hair letting the tears drip into it.

"Are you okay?" I asked skipping all the other questions that ran through my head. I looked over his head and down at his hands that were cuffed and red covered with spots of blood. He didn't say anything, just nestled his head into my shoulder blade.

"I had to come for you," he whispered after a while, pulling away from me. He stared into my eyes, holding my gaze. "I got you into this situation; I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you." For the first time in the period that I've known him his eyes started to water.

"Aw, Cute," someone mocked from the doorway, the tone of her voice sending shivers down my spine. I looked to the doorway to find a tall, lean woman standing there. She had straight midnight hair that came to her shoulders. Her thin lips were painted a blood red, popping out from her porcelain white skin. Her eyes were decorated with dark sparkly eye shadow with cherry red eye liner. She was dressed in black skinny jeans and a maroon leather jacket over her deep blue tank top. The outfit flattered her figure, showing every curve in her body, even the extra weight on her waist.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice cracking as the tears still spilled down my face. I was tempted to get up and stand in front of Mason to protect him, but I knew that wouldn't do anything if they wanted to hurt him.

"Sarah Gipsy Rajani." She proclaimed as if it was some great achievement, even a status worthy of kudos. Gipsy Rajani. Her last two names spelt G.R. What if we had been wrong the whole time? G.R. isn't Gang Retreat, it's Gipsy Rajani. Two guards came in at the gesture of her hand, grabbing Mason by the arms and pulling him to the door out of my reach.

I reached out to her, trying to put different emotions in her head but it wouldn't work. Her hard heart just stayed the same. Suddenly a shock went through my body, originating from the implants. I lunged over planting my hands on the ground feeling as if I if my stomach would come up through my throat. I could hear Mason struggle in the guard's hand as he attempted to get to me.

"Don't try to do that again or you'll regret it," she ordered, gesturing for me to follow her. When I didn't move she pulled out a pistol and held it up to Mason's head. "Are you coming?" she ordered, pushing the weapon against his scalp. I slowly rose to my feet and followed after her, we left the cell and headed down a lonely hallway. Mason was pulled behind the two of us by the guards.

We entered a room with a table in the middle. The table had multiple machines attached to it, one of them being a mind enhancer. I shivered, realizing that they didn't want to torture me; they wanted to use me for their own evil purposes.

The guards took Mason over to a chair on the side of the room. Forcing him down, they strapped him to the chair. He looked miserable, his whole body covered in his own blood. He slowly lifted his head to look at me; his eyes were full of worry not fear. He was concerned more for me then he was for himself.

I looked over at Sarah. She was standing next to the table holding a remote in her hand. The one I assumed controlled the implants. Her thumb lightly rubbed the buttons on it. I slowly made my way over to her, dragging my heals. She patted the table beside her and I slithered onto it, staying up right.

"What are you going to have me do?" I asked, refusing to look over at Mason. I could feel him trying to get inside my head but I pushed him out. This was my choice, not his, and I knew he wouldn't understand. I had lost people already, I wouldn't lose him.

"We'll put this enhancer on you and you will put it into everyone's head that we are the government to them, that we rule the world," she smirked, pushing me down against the table strapping the head gear to me. She left and went over to the controls to start up the machine.

I turned my head to look at Mason. His eyes were sorrowful as he stared at me, he didn't understand why I was doing this. Even if I let him know he would still tell me I shouldn't do it and let him be tortured and killed.

"Sorry," I mouthed, facing away from him. I couldn't take it. He broke into my head, rushing in words  that just went straight through.

"You can't do this. You'll destroy the world and yourself. The wide range is too much for you. Your brain will stop your heart from the extreme stress. Don't do this," he pleaded, attempting to take me over but I wouldn't let him. "Please, Emera! Please!" he screamed engulfing all my thoughts.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, preparing myself for the inevitable. "I have to do this."

Then it him hit what I was going to do.

"Emera, please!" He screamed even louder than before.

"This is the only way," I replied, keeping my own words soft in my mind.

"No, it's not. We can figure this out." That was the last thing I heard before the machine started up. I could feel the power surge through my head, everyone's thoughts running through my mind. I pulled the power in, absorbing every bit of it; then I shot it out attacking every G.R. agent across the globe. I traveled through the world at an accelerating speed, sending a shiver through my bones. I went from Florida to Washington D.C. to London and the rest of the world driving all the G.R. people insane. My body started to shake as Sarah electrocuted me, attempting to stop me, but she couldn't now; I was already too far into it. My guts churned inside me, but then it stopped; I could feel Sarah's sanity slipping away.

I could feel my own life slipping away, but I pushed on just to say one more word.

"Goodbye Mason." I whispered, seeing his face lingering over me. He was screaming but I couldn't hear it. He was holding me but I couldn't feel it. He was near me and I couldn't smell him.

The world started to become dim and I let go of the power and let the dark wrap me in his great wings and carry me away into the unknown. I had done the right thing. Even In the dark I smiled, feeling over joyed for the world and everyone in it.

"I am going to join the ones I have lost; I'm not losing anything by letting go. I have done the right thing," I thought. The dark let me go, sending me drifting into the unknown on my way to where ever I was going.

My eyes eased their way open, looking into a bright light. My body felt weak, almost limp.

"Emera." Mason's voice broke the silence as he appeared above me. I could feel his hand on the side of my face as he rubbed my checks with an blissful smile on his face. "You're awake."