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A home for all my weirdness. Sometimes I'll post stories, sometimes I'll post art. Come be a weird gobbo with me.

[aweirdtallgoblin]

This is Steve. He's a prick.

[thehangedfrog]

Harken to the twinkling of the bells- the Moon Twins cometh. These mysterious customers never speak to others, only whisper amongst themselves, sharing secrets that only the watchers of the night could know.

Madame Hotelier seems to always know their orders, and a table of cheese, crackers and tea pots marks their arrival. They wordlessly sit, moving in perfect synchronisation, tipping Hotelier with a single Moon Crystal before commencing their private gossip.

Beware you don't meet the gaze of the Moon Twins for you will soon become the centre of their tittering. You hear soft laughter from no particular direction, but in your heart it's them. You glance across to their softly lit table- they look at you, before they look at eachother, a single side eye glance, and all your secrets are known to them. 

Harken to the twinkling of the bells...

[aweirdtallgoblin]

If you like weird medieval art then hit up my other Tumblr, The Hanged Frog 🐸

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Who else dropped everything to watch the new series of Dandadan?

[thehangedfrog]

Welp.

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Progress update, I had JUST enough mid tone orange left to do the mausoleum with lol not bad going considering I'm free-balling the design.

[aweirdtallgoblin]

I've pledged to spend the other half of the year finishing the many many MANY projects (mainly my embroidery projects lol let's not get too carried away) so if someone on this site could hold me accountable for that, that'd be great.

Anyway, here's a cross stitch I started like last year (maybe even the year before oh LAWD) that I've picked back up, hoping to finish it by the end of this week.

[iceghosto]

Thinking about a bio-horror Metroid Fusion comic again…

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Rot (finale)

"What? No answer?" He heard a wet slithering, and he realised, with utter horror, that the creature was able to *lean* towards him, the child's face resting but an inch away from his. "You know I speak the truth, boy." It whispered, then giggled, quite pleased with itself. He tried to move his other arm, but it had been bound tight to his torso. He could *feel* his frag grenades on his belt, tantalisingly close, but what use were they if he couldn't even grab one. He desperately tried to kick his legs free, and even attempted to free the broken hand but that just caused a world of pain, as the roots squeezed the shattered bone tighter. "I...fight...for...mankind." The soldier answered through gritted teeth, tasting blood in his mouth as the roots wrapped around him tighter, crushing his ribs. "Well, Astartes" the child said the word like it had eaten something rotten. "This boy was part of mankind, yet your kind shot him down, for what you call heresy. Just a child, no wiser to the ways of the world than a fly. He didn't know any better, and yet he died anyway, for YOUR hubris."  He tried to respond again but a root had found its way around his neck and started to choke him, so all he could do was gargle. Stars started to appear behind his eyes and he felt himself growing limp, though the astartes desperately tried to cling onto the stubbornness that kept him moving through that grim corridor. That felt like a lifetime ago now. But in his moment of weakness, a new, unfamiliar emotion reared its ugly face, uglier than anything this monster could produce- shame. Shame that someone truly innocent died at his hands, shame that he had felt righteous in their slaughter and shame that he didn't even remember the child. He hadn't even acknowledged his existence, just another target eliminated. After the death of his squad, and the descent into madness that brought him to this moment, this final reality broke the astartes. Tears streamed down his bloody cheeks aa he whimpered a single, strangled word "....please...." "You see it now don't you? The hopelessness in your cause. The crimes you've committed, atrocities you've allowed." The child whispered now, lovingly, like a parent lecturing their scolded offspring. "The rest of your comrades died in their ignorance but you, you will die in enlightenment.... the only one to see you for the true monsters you are. And that's....that's beautiful, my astartes." From deep below them, the laughter started again, small giggles at first, but rising up the creature's mass, until it became a great cacophony that could be heard out into space. Somewhere, deep in the dark heart of the Imperial Palace, a rotting corpse sits upon an impossibly large throne, guiding mankind through the horror of the Immaterium. Faint, hollow, laughter echoes off the walls, as a single tear rolls down the corpses cheek.

Fin.

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Rot (part 5)

Suddenly one of the roots shot down from the ceiling, intent on become acquainted with the Astartes. He leapt back before it made contact, it's tip penetrating the bone floor and squishing into the meat underneath. Before the creature could pull its appendage back, he was at it with his combat knife, slicing clean through. The monster screamed, but whether it was in pain or in pleasure, he couldn't be too sure. He shuddered. It lashed out again, dozens of roots now, wrapping themselves around his arms and legs. Before he could turn his knife over to cut himself free, a root had wrapped itself around that hand, squeezing and squeezing until he heard the bone break with a loud POP. Now it was his turn to scream. The knife slipped from his mangled hand, and he was wrenched into the air, dangling above where the beady eyed face used to be. He squirmed in his bindings, but they only tightened and he felt his armour buckle under the stress. "Stupid little boy, you're just a toy soldier. Obliterating worlds at the whim of a rotting corpse. What makes you any worse than us?" A child spoke to him now, it's face hidden high above the others. Its eyes were utterly black, the mouth twisted into a hateful smile. The other faces could be heard below him, muttering and giggling. This is it, he thought. I'm going to die a horrendous death and I couldn't even finish the job. I've failed. End of Part 5

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Rot (part 4)

He could not say for certain that the creature had a single, "main" face, because as far as he could see, all it was, WAS faces. A gallery wall of eyes, noses, mouths, some with teeth, some without, and the occasional ear, loomed above him, the summit squished painfully against the ceiling, threatening to break through. Giant, fleshy, roots protruded from the mass, binding itself to the ship. After spending a moment trying to figure out which face was the main one to address, the Astartes settled on a small face located towards the centre of the creature. It had small beady eyes, that shined like those of a cat. Two fleshy holes masquerading as a nose, and a wide mouth permanently fixed in a vacant smile finished the ensemble. "I am not afraid. Your reign of horror ends here, demon." He sounded more confident than he felt. He thought the creature started coughing, but he soon realised it was laughing again, this time with a bit more venom in its tone. "Oh but you are. They think they bred the fear out, but you, you reek of it, just like the rest of your kin." "You know nothing about me!" He cried in defiance. What is wrong with you, he scolded himself, stop conversing with this monster and shoot it already! He fired once, the shotgun shell flying straight into the smile of the beady eyed face. The mouth blew apart, chunks of jagged teeth splintering off, the tongue a meaty mess hanging out of the hole left behind. He fired again, this time aiming for another face, hitting an eyeball that burst like a grape, splattering black blood. He was close enough to receive some splash back from his work, and the blood fizzed and sizzled when it hit his armour. Another shot, another face, another eyeball burst, more blood, another shot, teeth shatter, another shot and another, and another....all the while the creature was laughing hysterically, unfazed by the brutal damage he was doing. He stopped shooting, horrified by the laughter emitting from the monster, the choir of voices rising to an unbearable level. Layers of giggling, howling, crying, sighing, gasping, wheezing, tittering and snickering filling the space, overwhelming him. He lowered his gun, defeated, and demanded over the din, "What sorcery keeps you alive beast?!" The laughter died down eventually, but every now and then he could see one of the many twisted faces start giggling, setting off one or two others, before calming down again. "What you call sorcery, we call our life's blood. What you call the warp, we call home. Your...chaos...is our order." End of Part 4

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Rot (part 3)

The engine room was much wider than the corridor, and the Astartes took a moment to take in his surroundings. This part of the ship was more skin than metal, cables had become dripping veins, the floor tiles were bone. There was a sickly sweet smell , layered with the stench of rotting corpses. It made his eyes water. The metallic grinding sounds of the engine, desperately trying to work under all this stress, sounded...off, as if the Astartes was hearing it underwater. If this indeed was the engine room, then there wasn't much left. It had been almost completely high-jacked by maleficarum and he knew he would find the source of the ship's torment here. He marched forward, slowly, aware that with each step the floor buckled slightly under the huge weight of his armour. "This...floor will collapse before I can even make it to my target." He thought to himself, gingerly pushing himself along, following the direction of the flesh stretched along the walls. The mutation had a centre point, he felt it pulling him towards it, like an asteroid caught in the gravitational pull of a black hole. Pulling closer to oblivion. The laughter started again, but this time it wasn't over his com. This time the laughter was warm, almost human, as if the one laughing had been told a joke by a lover. And it was close. He tightened the grip on his gun, a pool of blood and a pile of limbs, coming into view, and a pile of all too familiar helms did not go unnoticed. The laughter died off, with the odd chuckle erupting from the darkness, as if the speaker suddenly remembered the joke again. "I can't wait to hear the punchline." He mumbled to himself and cocked his shotgun, ready to fire at the monster that mocked him. "Be not afraid, child." Multiple voices sang out, perfectly synchronised. The voice of a child, the grizzled voice of an elderly man, a young woman, the familiar accent of the Eldar, the machine tone of a Mechanicum servitor, the priestess that blessed his armour before he left, a commissar who tried to give him lip on a previous mission, the ork that mocked him before he punched its jaw off...his sergeant. All the voices sang together in some horrifying choir, a disgusting harmony bouncing off the walls, making the skin grafted panels ripple and vibrate. He took a few steps back, primal fear overriding his combat training, and he felt like a child facing the dark for the first time. For just a moment, his aim flattered. But he forced such foolish notions down, deep, and moved forward again. And then he saw it. A nightmare made real by bone, metal and flesh. It was like a weed left to grow wild, utterly consuming the flora and fauna around it, combining it into its own mass. It resembled a tumor, only on a much larger scale and no discernible body parts, . He could not see the back through the gloom, so was unsure if this mass even had an end. Whatever was left of the warp drive was completely enveloped in this creature, and he wondered how on Terra the ship was still floating at all, let alone crying out into space, for release.

End of part 3

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Rot (part 2)

The Astartes continued down the corridor, grimacing behind his helm at the fleshy masses writhing around beams and pulsing from within cracks and holes in the scorched walls. The red lense of his visor distorted his view, scarlet tinted horrors hiding in the deep, and strange creatures darting between beams, only revealing themselves occasionally, with flashes of tentacles and eyeballs. And all eyes were fixed on *him*.  There was a constant sound of flesh dragging along metal, bones cracking over beams and a sickly, wet laughter crackled quietly over the com every now and then. He kept his shotgun trained on each mass he saw, pondering why they did not attack him, and why, in fact, they seemed to be parting to let him pass. He was slightly unnerved by the idea that they are letting him pass so that something far worse can dispose of him. The corridor seemed to go on forever, with either end completely veiled in an impenetrable cloak of black. He could no longer see the door that led back to his dead brothers and he wasn't even sure how far away that door was anymore. There was no sign of a bend in the corridor or other avenues to turn down. As far as he knew, the soldier would be marching forward forever, trapped in this nightmare walkway of metal and flesh. The only hint of progress was the fact that the laughter he heard earlier, which started off faint, barely a whisper over the static, was slowly growing into a cacophony of howling and cackling, punctuated by child-like giggles and phlegmy coughing, the sharp sound of someone hacking their guts up making the marine flinch. It was becoming unbearable to listen to, but he couldn't seem to turn off his com, realising if he did, he would be truly lost. If it got any louder, he was certain it would burst his ear drums, but it was his only source of direction, the only thing pushing him to move forward. "I have to end this. Have to make that laughing stop." He kept whispering to himself, like a small prayer, an anchor for his sanity.  After an eternity...and no time at all...the Astartes suddenly found himself at an inconsequential looking door, weirdly unmarked by the same damage and flesh that now held the ship together. A single light illuminated the top of the door, highlighting two words that he didn't expect were the standard for Imperial class ships. "Turn back." The Astartes blinked, and the words had changed. "Engine room" He gently pressed his hand to a switch on the wall, and the door slid open, slowly and painfully. The groaning of the metal grinding along the door frame echoing off the walls, another deep rumble bounced back from behind, as if the ship cried out in response, the act of opening this door causing her great pain. "I must end her suffering. No ship deserves this fate." He whispered into the new space, taking a moment to prepare for the fresh hell that await him. He stooped low so that he could fit through the painfully small door, and he was so large he had to shimmy through it sideways. Renewing the grip on his gun he took a moment to check over the rest of his arsenal. One shotgun, with ten rounds left, three frag grenades and his combat knife. "Good odds." He said to himself and snorted at his own joke, before taking three deep breaths and pressing on. The howling laughter that had plagued his com was now eerily silent, even the scratching sounds of movement had stopped. Once again, the Astartes' helm couldn't penetrate the deep darkness, but he got the sense that someone, or something was waiting for him at the end of the dark, watching with eager, hungry eyes. End of Part 2

[aweirdtallgoblin]

Rot (part 1)

(a Warhammer 40k short story)

It smelt like a long abandoned slaughterhouse, where the carcasses have been left to rot and seep into the very bones of the building, never to wash out. He knew the smell would linger in his helmet for months after this. If he even left alive. They had killed the rest of his squad, strange horrors made only of decaying flesh and teeth, ripping and tearing into his brothers before they even had time to take cover. He had survived, only for the fact his sergeant shoved him into another corridor, and sealed the door behind him. "Go....Ro...end...thi......" The garbled message came through on his com, and even though he could barely make it out over the unearthly moaning and screaming penetrating the communications, he got the idea. The ship needed to be destroyed. The brothers in arms stared at each other for a moment, through the dusty glass, before the soldier saluted his lieutenant and watched as he joined the slaughter. He died just as horribly as the others. With the door at his back, the Astartes stepped forward in the darkness. With only his visor granting him vision in the deep black, he saw the true extent of the horror unleashed upon the Retribution Battleship. They had heard the ships screams of agony even in the warp and immediately diverted from their course to intercept. What they found in the endless void could barely be called a ship. It had the hallmarks of its class, but much of its hull had been blown away, with only the bare bones holding the hull together, it's guts slowly pouring out into space. This had the tell tales of a Tyranid hive attack, and a kill team of Deathwatch was sent in to investigate. It should have been an easy job, clean up and clean out. But whatever followed the Tyranids, and whatever had killed his brothers, was much older, much darker, and much more dangerous. End of part 1.