FINALLY REMADE THE GAY GHOSTS BYE
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Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
almost home
Peter Solarz

★
Xuebing Du
RMH
YOU ARE THE REASON
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Sade Olutola

ellievsbear
Not today Justin

Andulka
🪼

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@bxllroom
FINALLY REMADE THE GAY GHOSTS BYE
FINALLY REMADE THE GAY GHOSTS BYE
@ ALL THE PORTRAIT GHOST BLOGS PPL ARE GONNA MAKE
Peeks in. "Do not hurt mama."
❝I ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇs, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ. But, perhaps if he were to come to a realization that we mean no harm in the first place and furthermore decides to leave us alone, then we can make amends with Greenie.❞
「 ɢʀᴇᴇɴᴅʀᴇᴀᴍʙʀᴏ 」
“D-do you ever think about gh-ghost bugs? They could be all around us and w-we just don’t-a know…”
❝OH, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɢʀᴇᴇɴɪᴇ? They're everywhere! Crawling throughout your overalls; slithering around in your socks--❞
❝--and they nest inside of your hat. How horrid, hmm?❞
ceolnasoul
Dukas - The Sorcerer’s Apprentice
「 ? ? ? 」
-✾-✿-❀-❁- dahlia crown »
Given her closed eyes, the rabbit had to wonder if she had mistakingly opened a window instead of the ballroom door as the whispers coursed like a rushing wind. Her large ears bore a hypersensitivty to the noise, causing her all to but receed further into herself, her lips trembling. She let go of the door frame to clutch at her ears, a nervous habit she had developed and one she had tried to stop – it would be dreadfully useless if she needed to fly, after all. She was small enough and the mansion was grand enough that she could traverse in the air if she wanted to, however it was the paralyzing fear that kept her grounded.
Eventually she had to come to terms that she would never find her lifelong friend blind, and slowly opened her eyes, blinking a few times to readjust to the darker than usual setting than she was accoustumed to. Honey-coloured hues swept the length of the ballroom, taking in what would’ve been a grandoise area of dance had it been full of life.
Cream took a moment of respite to think on it – she was not much of a dancer herself, but the young girl liked twirls and swirls as much as the next child, especially if any storybook Prince Charming were involved. Truthfully, she was not much for frivilous thoughts, but it brought a surreal comfort to help with the reality she was in a haunted mansion and Cheese was very much missing.
– A squeak of terror came from her as the sound of the male’s voice cut through the windy draft, ceasing all noise but his tenor. Her gaze rapidly shifted until they fell on the source; a portrait of two humans.
When it became apparent that yes, it – nay, – he had spoken, and that she was now in the presence of two, a royal red flush spread across her cheeks as she caught herself staring like a deer in headlights. Her hands immediately busied themself away from her ears, to the corners of her dress to allow her to fumble a curtsey, which while botched, was still a valiant effort under such duress. “A-Ah! I .. I er.. I’m.. – !!”
Stammering was just as bad in her books, and she had never felt so embarassed infront of the portrait ghosts, nevermind the fact that, for all she knew, they could be behind her friend’s disappearance. With no evidence nor proof, she could only do what she knew best; being cordial. Cream entered fully, gaze to the ground. “I.. I’m sorry, Mister and Misses. I was just trying to find my friend, I didn’t mean to disturb you or anyone.”
Cream, truthfully didn’t mind the fact they were ghosts, or portraits. Most of the ghosts she had come across were not benevolent, but she hoped the couple proved otherwise. It’d be wrong of her to paint them in the same light as past experiences.
SUCH ғᴏʀᴍᴀʟɪᴛɪᴇs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ᴇsᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴄɪʀᴄᴜᴍsᴛᴀɴᴄᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀʙʙɪᴛ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀsᴇʟғ ɪɴ. Regardless, it had pleased the elders after the initial wave of shock had washed over them and crashed along the shores elsewhere, and led them to believe that this girl was much more than what she had bargained to be--than what her trembling, sniveling outward appearance hung around her neck and paraded around like some sort of pathetic show highlighting the cliché fear of ghosts--oh, how terrifying!
Granted, the Whirlindas had been dead for 39 years--14 years, of which, they had been haunting this particular mansion as ghosts.
Mrs. Whirlinda's portrait had been the one to react first; its pupils and irises fused into one as they fleshed out across their respective eyeballs, coating them in bright beams of green light; a vivacious smile crossed its grim visage as the lips drained themselves of their dusty brown hue, only to burst into a vibrant crimson that heightened the smile tenfold; the cheeks were dotted with delicate carnation strokes; and blonde curls piled themselves atop its cranium. Finally, as its skin grew [translucent] blue, the ghastly wife presented what was the dead shell that she had wormed herself into upon resurrection (hers was a peculiar case--a deal with the devil, so to speak) as she now inspected the girl further, choosing to remain concealed behind her frame for the time being. The Missus giggled, mouthed something indecipherable to her husband, and then bid the rabbit adieu in the form of a wave--the retracting of her fingers and back, rather--before she dissipated from the wall, leaving behind a stoic depiction of her former self.
Her spouse would follow suit, but his living countenance still scrutinized the mortal from beyond his mount. A gloved hand, not previously presented by the artist, rested upon his cheek as brows narrowed overhead; he almost appeared annoyed, though his tone suggested otherwise. ❝Ah--there we are. See now, sweet child, we know what you want--what you desire--why you are here. And we can help you.❞ His expression softened as it had begun to gain color in a similar fashion to the show that his wife had put on moments ago.
A trickle of wind cascaded over the rabbit’s bare shoulders--cold, slender digits of tingling chill that danced over her skin, surely causing any fine hairs to rise. Immediately, a large gust barreled past the girl, leaving an air of a feminine scent--perfume--in its skittish wake. As the faint smell of lavender and rosemary shrouded itself about Cream in a blanket of oddities--comforting to some, perhaps, though she had just been touched by an invisible ghost--a small gathering of twinkling specks appeared just in front of her for a short moment before bursting in grand entrance, sending wayward sparks of imagination flying in every direction. As the clearing was now void of any flashy decoration, Mrs. Whirlinda, in full, hovered before the girl, shifting her tail underneath herself as if to sit as dainty hands settled themselves in the lap of her dress.
A catlike playfulness danced across her visage. ❝But, oh,❞ she continued for her husband, voice low and sultry, ❝do many wary travelers find themselves lost within these decaying walls with even the utmost caution by their side.❞ A pause; her smirk widens but only for a moment. ❝I'm sure your friend must have been spooked, however, yes?❞ Above, something scraped along the floorboards of the second floor--presumably Cream's partner in crime--but Mrs. Whirlinda paid it no attention and kept talking, deeming it as being a mere mouse and nothing more. ❝Regardless, we would need to know more about your friend if you seek our assistance in finding him or her.❞ She meant no harm, and they could tell; not a flashlight nor vacuum cleaner was to be seen anywhere on her person.
「 ? ? ? 」
-✾-✿-❀-❁- dahlia crown »
There were not many things that frightened the rabbit; and often she was comended for her bravery to look danger in the eye and stand her ground. Almost always, she was with friends, and the need to appear strong overweigh the actual coursing fear that freezed her blood or shivered up her spine. Cream did not have the luxury of being surrounded with friends this time, and so it came to no surprise that wandering the derelict mansion, she was afraid.
Cheese was a major part of helping her feel less alone, but he was the reason she was here in the first place. Some mean ghosts had spooked her and next thing she knew, her chao was gone. She didn’t need to think twice before barreling towards wispy trails after the ghosts, even if she wasn’t one-hundred percent sure they took him in the first place. It made sense in her child mind, as that was the last thing she saw.
But over time and lost wandering, the shrouded hallways and dimly lit rooms was playing tricks on her mind, and all but reduced her from the brave young rabbit to a nervous little one. Her voice cracked as she called her chao’s name, fearful of raising it any volume in case any ghosts pop out and give her a scare again.
Eventually she found herself at what she could presume was the east wing on the first floor, opening one of the doors that thankfully wasn’t locked, and peeked in.
“H-Hello..? Cheese? I’m.. I’m looking for my friend..” Her eyes were closed, she didn’t dare open them.
TO sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪʀʟɪɴᴅᴀs ᴡᴇʀᴇ sʜᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴍᴍᴇᴅɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ--ᴛʜᴇ ғʟᴇᴇɪɴɢ, ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ--ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀᴛᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. As the small dollop of blue scrambled into the sea of the undead, the graceful twirling of the lesser ghouls was horribly thrown off-balance, causing an uproar amongst all parties in the balloom. The Shy Guys shrieked and squealed in panic, bouncing off of one another as if they were plastic balls rolling about in a child's playpen and furthermore rousing the two elder ghosts from the melodious tranquility that they found themselves in while watching their prodigies in practice. The Missus took to hushing the masked specters while her husband demanded to know of this interloper's presence, calling out to no one in particular; ultimately, the commotion would be deemed to be caused by a mere common mook--neither portrait ghost had taken notice to the childlike entity that had scrambled through one of the aging cracks in the wall--that fed off of practical jokes such as these--jokes that the Whirlindas deemed idiotic and inconvenient. The actions of their kin were justified in their eyes, however (and would be scolded upon if they hadn't calmed down as quickly as they had) for being chained up and metaphorically bound during a time of warfare could certainly reduce even the most stone-faced individual to the product of fear and tension--an odd nerve-wrecking tingle that spasmed throughout the entire body in a continuous loop, all in apprehension as to what was going to happen to them next. That was why the throng of spirits had been so quick in fleeing the scene when the door began to creak open, leaving an abandoned ballroom in their wake.
Enter the rabbit; a young frightened creature that shook with each tentative step that she took, brushing her shoes against the tiled floor. Her traipsing did not take her far, however, for she still lingered within the door frame, gripping its body so tightly that it would writhe in pain if given some morbid yet comical life. As the Shy Guys hid themselves away within the same walls that Cheese had escaped through, the Whirlindas onlooked the girl quite blatantly through paintings that had depicted what they looked like in life moving as naturally and fluidly as they once had--as they still were. Cream's eyes were closed--and that they noted, hence their hushed whispers as they called to one another, sounding like a thick draft that had begun to waft about the room.
❝Oh, my dearest❞--the winds wavered, increasing in speed--❝it's simply a little girl. A young . . . rabbit.❞
❝A bunny, you mean?❞ To which Mr. Whirlinda would agree with a quiet hum. They would be hypocritical to judge--alas, they were merely observing--for outside of their hiding places, they were ghosts, cliché depictions of haunting translucent bodies and ghastly tails. However, they lived in a time period where humans walked alongside Toads in the Mushroom Kingdom--much more humans than what foolish travelers had described to them in regards to their old place of residence in present time--and were already quite used to the strange oddities among most intruders even before their time was up. They would only remain ignorant to the fact that the girl was not native to these parts--in speculation.
Thankfully for her, admit the previous tumult that they were now in suspicion that she had something to do with, the Whirlindas were rather fond of children, perhaps in the tragic realization that they would never be able to bear their own. Mr. Whirlinda was more fickle on the subject matter than his wife and spoke up first, now loud enough for his voice to cause the winds to cease and to capture the attention of the young rabbit, despite her obvious reluctance to accepting the situation at hand.
Stern yet gentle, he bid her to face her fears. ❝Speak up, dear girl,❞ his portrait commanded, shifting about in its frame, ❝for if you wish to be heard, you must gain confidence.❞
noah15thblog
I drew my favorited portrait ghost, who is Slim Bankshot after slowly playing Luigi’s Mansion on my laptop :)
「 ɢʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇɴ 」
Gretchen entered the door, and found herself flocked by the Shy Ghosts, their noises cracking a smile as she patted them. They were really like children to her, and their squeaking was just adorable to hear. As she did, she kept her attention on the two, noticing how the Mrs. began to steadily show a sort of motherly look to the toy’s presence, as if the doll’s owner was of good memory to her. When she approached and the Shy Ghosts departed, she kept her attention on the pair to listen well to the good news.
The news that King Boo laying off did make her somewhat relieved, but she knew that it probably wouldn’t be for long, and that it wasn’t a point to get terribly overconfident. “That’s good to hear! I thought that it was just a coincidence that the Boos’ energies were a tad empty today! I kinda worry what they be plannin, considerin’ the ring leader, but for th’ time bein’ its just good to not have someone breathin’ down our necks all th’ time. Mortal police men give me that enough as it is. I wonder if it has somethin’ t’a do with Grass Man being gone from Evershade f’er so long and Gadd being unable to contact him, and if he did somethin’ relatin’ t’a dat, which wouldn’t surprise me a bit. I know this is kinda of a sharp subject switch, but I’m jus’ gonna get this out there now an’ just say that if you pull a Boo’s tail, they just get so salty and offended about it that they end up just leave from pure fluster and it always cracks me up! Really, they just try to do something about it, but they just get so red in the face that they just leave to recollect themselves!”
❝GRASS ᴍᴀɴ?--Ah, Luigi do you mean?--he hasn't been around?❞ Normally, such knowledge would be a joyous occasion, but considering their predicament, Luigi was their only savior, for he had captured King Boo once, and the Whirlindas--among other slavery-stricken ghosts--could only hope that he could and would do it again. No matter; Mr. Whirlinda wasn't going to allow this new information slaughter their new-founded peace, even if said peace would only last for a moment's notice. He mused for a moment longer before continuing. ❝Hm. I do hope that he is alright, but he isn't a thing to worry about now. . . . Although my curiosity cannot help but to remain piqued; please, do tell if you receive any word upon his whereabouts, for his demise would surely lead to ours.
❝--But, alas, alas, I shouldn't allow such grim spirits to cross my own!❞ As quickly as it had left, his flamboyant aura had sprung back into action, bringing about a sudden liveliness that cascaded through the ballroom and caused a few candelabras to flicker to life as the chandelier burst into vibrant light overhead, filling the room with a contagious energy that drew excited shrieks of joy from the Shy Guys that flittered about the room. Although he was happy, anyone could see, from a psychological standpoint, there was a wavering in his voice, as if this was all just a bipolar façade and he was, in fact, a madman, traipsing through the stages of insanity, hoping that there was something they could do differently to finally please the king. In the end, however, his show had managed to prove successful, in which he even tricked himself into happiness as a genuine smile crossed his face. Zipping past his wife, twirling her as he went, his translucent body slunk about Gretchen, inspecting the toys that she still held. ❝Let me see. . . . What can I take to work on?❞
The Missus was much more collective than her husband. She partook in his joy, but managed to remain sane all the while, knowing that if they were to make a single mistake in enjoying their freedom, it would all go away much faster than what they would have expected--what they would have hoped. She hushed her husband before speaking; the lights dimmed slightly.
❝Oh❞--a large breath of air escaped her; a low chuckle, if you will--❝we wouldn't want to even try that. We're still under his rule, unfortunately, no matter how much it feels as though we aren't. If we were to even touch a Boo, the finger that dare proceed with said action would be promptly severed, I would imagine.❞ A pause; she moves closer to the girl (as if what she had said only moments before had no meaning--morbid themes were common among ghouls), glancing upon the toys in her arms as her husband once did. ❝Now, I can probably take some of the dolls to clean them. It certainly wouldn't be that difficult.❞
「 sʟɪᴍ ʙᴀɴᴋsʜᴏᴛ 」
“Huh? Oh, right…! Sorry, I-I wasn’t thinking…” He responded quietly as he watched the two float nearby his pool table. Honestly, he hadn’t forgotten about the offer, though he felt like that wasn’t the only reason they were here for. There was something with the way they spoke and their actions to. The poolshark was a little frightened of why they may be acting in such a way, though at least him being nervous about anything wouldn’t be new to anyone watching.
Slim perked up as he asked the question, not thinking of it more in depth until his eyes had wandered to Mrs. Whirlinda, watching her movements as she hit the ball. Initially he watched to see how she was faring with the game, though catching sight of the images, he grew oh so worried, almost wishing to look away from the game she had started but his eyes remained set on the table.
He had meant to congratulate her on her shot, but had been distracted by her husband. Oh dear, these two could really multitask with such ease, compared to him. “Ah, yes…w-well as you know…I’d be more than happy to assistant you with the more…complex aspects of this game.” And anything else they may have wanted assistance on.
“Yes, thank you…” Slim floated a little closer to the table, reaching out to take his precious stick as he readied himself against the pool table, looking a little more focused as he was aiming were to shoot the Boo ball. It was almost frightening to even think about hitting it, yet he couldn’t let something like that stop him. “I don’t know what I can do, I-I mean I can do all I can to help, but…” A pause was taken as he pulled back the stick to hit the ball, having it bump into the purple one and sending it off to a middle pocket. “You know…I’ll…just do whatever I can do.” He said through a nervous smile.
SIDE-BY-SIDE, ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪʀʟɪɴᴅᴀs ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇᴅ ʜɪs ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴜʀɪᴏsɪᴛɪᴇs, ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴡ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏғ ᴘᴏᴏʟ ʜᴀᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ--ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʟ ᴄᴜᴇ ɢʟɪᴅᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs ᴅɪɢɪᴛs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴄᴇғᴜʟ ɢʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ ᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴏᴏ sᴀɪʟɪɴɢ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴠɪsᴀɢᴇ--ᴀs ᴅᴀɴᴄɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʀᴍᴇʀs. It was a shame he had no one to play against, looking at their current situation in a very literal sense. He was a gifted young player from what the Whirlindas could tell--their ignorance towards the tabletop sport of billiards was rather obvious--and although the bets placed by these unnamed, unknown audience members that the Whirlindas had just mentally conjured to make a point would be very one-sided, the financial odds in favor of the slender ghoul, the Whirlindas were in full accordance with one another in believing that he should have some sort of company; perhaps they could slink in another time--if there ever was to be another time, given their off-track thinking. Immediately, they pieced themselves back into the conversation with such a smooth transition that it truly appeared as though the three spirits were merely playing a game of pool (although that was a punishable offence, for the Whirlindas were being distracted yet again).
The Missus spoke. ❝Oh! What a wonderful shot.❞ Her words had minuscule importance, however--of course, aside from the fact that she had truly meant what she said in the literal blanket that had long since draped itself across the shoulders of the three ghosts, concealing their true intentions.
Her attention lingered off to her husband for a moment. He was looking across the green felt to two pool balls that lie at the opposite end of the table, indigo and red, respectively. The twins seemed indifferent, both ghouls floating with their backs against one another all the while glancing about the room in unison. One would fixate his attention upon nothing in particular, come to a sudden realization of horror, and quickly retreat back to that aloof state, as if they were trying to make the point that they were clearly cool and collective during this time of mock war. But of course they weren't--they were children; no matter how much they could protest and cry about being able to take care of themselves, there would always need to be a higher power to govern over them, to protect them--and the Whirlindas (Slim included, they assumed) could only hope that Neville and Lydia were doing such, for Chauncey was a given.
With those ideals in mind, Mr. Whirlinda couldn't even look at the pink ball that lie nearby the formers. He bit down on his lip, a rarity of guilt and anxiety beginning to set in, though only for a moment.
Mrs. Whirlinda returned her attention to Slim. The visages of the twins had completely slipped from her peripheral vision, allowing both Henry and Orville to cower in fear while not in anyone's line of sight. Immediately--simultaneously--they tensed up and cringed upon hearing the king's ghastly guffaw; Orville had raised clenched fists to his face, sniveling in pitiful pain as tears streamed down his rounded cheeks, attempting to seek solstice in shielding himself from Boo's haunting countenance--his small, beady eyes overshadowed by grim feeling stared him down like a hunter watching the small rabbit down the barrel of his gun, and his fangs glimmered in the light--fangs begot from a bloodlust for power that was so strong that he could easily rip through the flesh of anyone who dare stood in his way. It would appear as though Henry took more of an offensive stance, his cheeks red and hot as he began shouting from behind his plastic--no, marble, children were far too precious--confinement--all of his words full of malice and hate, all the vile, bile-colored words from his limited vocabulary at the age of five--and the worst part was that that King Boo had wanted exactly this, to take the hateful, negative energy that these children could muster and use it to his own advantage in completely annihilating all mortals from the planet, leaving only Boos and lesser ghosts in his wake. Both spirits seceded from their fits of immense emotion, however, when they both took notice of Slim positioning himself behind the cue ball, ready to send it sailing into them; they were drained of color, thrown into states of shock as they turned into vegetables.
It wasn't Slim's fault--everything had to progress. But he could help them [the Whirlindas among other portrait ghosts], if willing.
The Missus wasn't entirely sure if the pool shark understood. His response was vague--still a positive one that they had hoped to receive--but perhaps that was because he did latch onto their metaphors--one would have to be very oblivious not to take notice to the balls upon the table and whom they contained within them. Either way, there would need to be a bit of dancing around the subject before they could come to terms with a secret code that they could talk in without having to blatantly scribble cryptic codes on a piece of paper as if they were children trying to hide something from their parents.
She now looked upon the cue ball--King Boo, rather. ❝Now, Slim, I'm somewhat confused--it would be a bad thing if you were to hit the cue ball in one of the pockets, yes?❞ Of course she knew it was bad--anyone with a limited knowledge of pool did--but they weren't playing pool. She needed to explain herself correctly and hope that, in return, Slim understood. ❝What do you❞--her pause was much longer than it should have been--❝well--what would happen?--if that were the case.❞
「 ɢʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇɴ 」
Gretchen puffed out her cheeks at the mention of getting soft. “Oi, I can still suck da souls outta da livin no problem! I ain’t gettin’ soft!” She paused for a moment, letting out a small chuckle. “But ah, children are my weakness. I can’t ‘elp but wanna make ‘em smile. Is dat wrong?”
Gretchen could tell something hit him with the mention of the amazing upside-down sleeping child, but she felt like it would be rude to prod about it. At the mention of the suggestion, she perked up. Good news? That’s a good change! “Oh sure sure! I’ll be all for hearin’ some good news from you two!”
THEIR ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟs ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏɴɢ; ᴘᴇʀ ᴍʀ. ᴡʜɪʀʟɪɴᴅᴀ's ʙʀɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ, ʜɪs ᴜsᴜᴀʟ ғʟᴀᴍʙᴏʏᴀɴᴛ ᴀᴛᴛɪᴛᴜᴅᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ʜɪɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴇxʜᴀᴜsᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪʀʟɪɴᴅᴀs ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ ᴘʀᴏxɪᴍɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ, ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀᴍᴏʀᴇ sɪɢɴᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴡᴀs ᴄʟᴏsᴇ (ɪɴ ʟᴀʏᴍᴀɴ's ᴛᴇʀᴍs, ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴇɴ ғᴇᴇᴛ--ᴏʀ sᴏ--ᴀᴡᴀʏ, ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴsɪᴏɴ's ʟᴀʏᴏᴜᴛ). The door unlocked itself on its own for Gretchen--Mr. Whirinda simply phased through the wall--to reveal Mrs. Whirlinda partaking in habitual actions; as she perked up upon seeing her husband once more, the Shy Guy ghosts littered about her did the same but instead rushed past the gentleman and immediately flocked about Gretchen's billowing dress, squeaking in glee. The Whirlindas had put time aside to further educate their prodigies about the peculiar girl and how she would be the one to save them if any means of evacuation needed to take place--in fact, that was in relation to the good news that the Whirlindas had been wanting to share (hoping that their assumptions were correct).
The couple would only watch this reunion with amused expressions for a moment's notice until the Mister took to explaining their situation to his wife. Mr. Whirlinda juggled the toy cars in his hands as the doll was shifted into the Missus's palms; although her visage was concealed by his positioning, there was still a slight chance that Gretchen could perhaps catch a glance at her softened countenance as she inspected the wilting clown with a motherly fondness. Her thumb brushed against its cheek, wiping away some of the dirt to reveal a stunning white below just as her husband murmured something else, causing her to suddenly glance up from the toy and maneuver herself to a position where she could see Gretchen in full, the girl whom had left her thoughts for a moment as they were consumed with a longing desire to cradle the young, sleeping child upstairs and whisper soothing words of comfort, telling her that everything would be okay--another thing of their good news that they had hoped was correct.
❝Gretchen!❞ Mrs. Whirlinda instantly perks up once more as she floats over to come into closer contact with the girl; the Shy Guys part about the the billowing fabric of the specter's dress like the Red Sea before dispersing about the ballroom in pairs, twirling as they go. ❝It's so nice to see you again, dear--especially under such pleasant circumstances.❞ A hint at their good news, though she is mindful to remain quiet. ❝And thank you for inviting me to help you two in fixing these toys--it was very thoughtful of you❞--she throws a quick glance in her husband's direction--❝both of you. I'm sure the children would love this, especially with it growing closer to the holidays.❞
As if on cue--his wife's pause--Mr. Whirlinda appears alongside the former, snaking his free arm around her waist as he balances the broken cars in the other, all the while his attention focused on the puppet. ❝And as for our good news--we're going to have to keep quiet about it--but we believe that--ah--King Boo has . . . retracted in his plans, somewhat. Our presumptions, unfortunately, are not that good, and we understand that this lack of activity may be some sort of ploy, but we don't feel as . . . restricted as of late. Whenever he's around--or any Boo, for that matter--there's a rather . . . bonding force weighed upon us that we cannot feel anymore. Needless to say, we're taking this new-founded freedom with vigilance; we cannot trust him, and yet, we refuse to allow him to weigh us down to skittish prairie dogs in which even the slightest lenience would make us tremble in suspicious fear . . . but I digress.
❝We're free again, for the time being.❞
「 ɢʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇɴ 」
Gretchen normally wasn’t one to snoop around houses, but curiosity of the other areas of the house got her curious. Sure enough, she had found the dwelling of a child. Upside down and sleeping, as odd as it is. In fact the whole room was upside down, and it seemed like the toys failed to realize this fact and fell on the floor…er, ceiling, and got her attention when they fell. When she had inspected the dolls, she had noticed they were rather worn out, age not being the better on them. Perhaps she should have mentioned something to the sleeping one, but she didn’t get that far deciding to do a little fixing of the ghost children’s toys, and began going around collecting numerous toys to fix up.
Though, that’s to be said she didn’t seem to anticipate Mr. Whirlinda interrupting her crusade of toy repair, and when he made himself noticed, she visibly seemed to have been startled, her body hacking up some toys from the brim, scattering on the floor. “…Man that hasn’t happened in a while. Man Whirlinda, you should be proud to startle me like that. I never get startled like that.”
Gretchen began to collect the toys scattered on the floor, irritated how some broke. Man, more work to fix these things. “Well, I was curious on other areas of the mansion, and when I saw some upside down sleeping child’s toys being in poor condition, I kinda began going around the place for more kiddy toys to fix up. I figured that they might appreciate their toys being repaired a little. I mean, why wouldn’t- aw man, this car’s wheel is snapped off, geeze…”
MR. ᴡʜɪʀʟɪɴᴅᴀ sᴛɪʟʟ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴄᴜʟɪᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ᴅᴇᴇᴍᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴀs ᴀɴ ᴀᴄᴛ ᴏғ ʀɪɢʜᴛᴇᴏᴜsɴᴇss, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ, ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ, ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ ɢʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇɴ ᴘʀᴇғᴏʀᴍɪɴɢ ᴏғᴛᴇɴ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ sᴜɪᴛ ʜᴇʀ. Not that he would ever deem her as a bad child!--oh no, just the idea that she had taken it upon herself to fix toys for children whom didn't need nor desire said repairs in the first place (though that didn't mean that they wouldn't be grateful for the act in the long run)--in other words, an act of pure kindness on Gretchen's own accord--didn't seem like something she would do. Henceforth, there was an air of surprise in the Mister's tone, though it quickly developed into a catlike mischievousness, playful and taunting.
❝Ah. I see. You've gotten soft, haven't you, Gretchen?❞ He chuckles quietly, shifting the doll to wedge it underneath his arm while he takes the damaged car into his hands, continuing small talk whilst inspecting the three other wheels that the car still bore to compare it to the broken axle. ❝The children will appreciate these acts, regardless; it has been quite some time since they've received anything new, I assume--and I'm sure you can as well.❞
He falters at the mentioning of Sue Pea, falling silent. His gaze travels back to the clown, observing one particular grayish-brown splotch across its visage that would look much better restored to its original shine--a pristine white. The Whirlindas had always kept their deeper thoughts about and feelings in regards to Sue Pea a secret, even from Gretchen; Mr. Whirlinda was rather fickle about their particular situation while his wife was much more inviting with open arms. So inviting that she'd probably want to assist them in their tinkering for any of the children, despite her ignorance towards the craft.
It brings Mr. Whirlinda back from his trance. ❝You know, we can take these back to the ballroom--I'm sure the Missus would be delighted to help. We can talk, too,❞ he adds quickly, ❝I believe we have some rather good news to share with you.❞
❝OH, ɢʀᴇᴛᴄʜᴇɴ! . . . What's that you have there?--let me see it.❞
He takes the doll into his gloved hands, turning it all about to inspect it throughouly. Spindly digits run across the small clown's red nose as his attention flickers upwards, finally taking notice to the various toys strewn about in the girl's wake. Mr. Whirlinda cannot piece together whose toys belong to whom--though he knows that the clown doll he cradles in his arms, separated from its twin, is Sue Pea's--but it seems as though Gretchen's busied herself in going through the children's toys--or perhaps she's simply found the aftermath of someone else whom had.
A sliver of pink darts out from between his lips. ❝What have you been doing?❞
Bold everything your muse has done. (caution: contains multiple common triggers)
Broken a bone | Gotten stitches | Had a near-death experience | Killed someone | Tried and failed to kill someone | Invented something | Been hungover | Kissed someone | Slow danced | Been in a long-term relationship | Had sex | Had sex and regretted it | Had a one-night stand | Had a threesome | Experimented with their sexuality | Had a kid | Gotten married | Self-harmed | Traveled to another country | Been in a play | Received an inheritance | Been in a car wreck | Lost a loved one | Been dumped | Dumped someone | Smoked | Gotten high | Been slipped something in their food/drink | Won a contest | Won an election | Joined a sports team | Gone skydiving | Gone hunting | Been in a band | Had a job | Been fired | Been in a wedding party | Owned a pet | Seen a ghost | Skipped class/work | Learned an instrument | Gotten a noticeable scar | Sued someone | Been robbed | Been mugged | Been kidnapped | Been sexually assaulted | Been brainwashed/hypnotized | Gone more than one day without eating | Had a recurring nightmare | Been bullied | Bullied someone | Seen someone die | Attempted suicide | Been tied/chained up | Shot someone | Stabbed someone | Saved someone’s life | Cheated on someone | Been cheated on | Had a stalker | Been betrayed | Been in a fight | Been arrested | Been to a funeral | Had surgery | Broken someone’s trust | Gotten a piercing | Gotten a tattoo | Used a fake name | Been tortured | Been abused | Been blackmailed | Had an attempt on their life | Gotten away with a crime | Gone on a road trip | Been in love