twitchy witchy girl

coraline - not caroline -hermosa's resident psychic. twenty years old. let me read your tea leaves.

[witchycoraline]

catsmistris:

Coraline was much too easy to find for someone who was apparently fond of running away. Even worse, for someone who was living with what he considered a venomous viper at best, he thought highly that she should get better at hiding. Of course, to him, being able to hide was one of the better skills to have considering Hermosa’s underbelly and the thing Coraline had currently attached herself too, but to each their own. She was curious and he couldn’t fault her too much for being obvious. Besides, maybe one day, if Other Mother showed her true colors, it would come in handy.

Tonight, though, he’d tracked her down to an animal shelter. Tracked down wasn’t the best thing to use in relation with, well, anyone really, but with the circumstances the way they were, he couldn’t help but care for her safety. Who knew what kind of traps Other Mother had become smart to since he last saw her? It was only fair if he watched out for her, and thankfully, she seemed to be having a rousing night with the local strays. The irony didn’t elude him, and for that reason, he decided to make his presence known. Perhaps she had something interesting to share tonight.

Watching the black feline scurry away as he entered, the edge of Cat’s lips curled upwards slightly. Eyes not looking quite towards Coraline yet as she scolded him, he began ticking his tongue on the roof of his mouth and reaching a hand down to slightly flick his index and middle fingers towards the cat. Watching as it took a hesitant moment to consider his offer, he was pleased when it then lightly bounced over to slide it’s head underneath his hand for a rub. “Just wanted to come be among my own.” He finally said, looking to her. Standing straight, he let the cat zigzag slowly between his legs. “You know, if you wanted to play with a cat all night, all you had to do was give a ring.”

Coraline looked up at Cat, and couldn’t help the eye-roll that followed. Funny how she seemed to run into him anywhere but the Pink Palace, where they lived in adjacent apartments. There was always some secret in his eyes that he seemed intent on her knowing, but he seemed to be waiting for her to figure it out herself instead of just telling her plainly. Hermosa was in no short supply of secrets, but most hollow eyed folks she’d run into seemed so desperate to spill their secrets that they ceased to be secrets. She could appreciate - and barely tolerate - someone who seemed to know a thing or two about keeping secrets. In short, he was infuriating and endlessly intriguing.

“Is this where you hang out all the time?” she said. “Playing papa to these poor, unsuspecting cats?” Somehow, she was less than surprised. She picked the smokey colored cat back up in her arms, and ran her fingers through the knots in his fur. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “These guys are a thousand times the fun you are.”

Coraline didn’t like the way Cat seemed to know - or at least, think he knew - what Coraline was all about. Sure, everyone had their assumptions, but there was always something lurking around Cat’s words that told her he knew more than she’d care to admit.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” she said, not liking the way he always seemed to slink around the shadows, appearing like an apparition wherever she went.

[witchycoraline]

status: open location: hermosa county animal shelter

“C’mere, slug,” she said, pulling the smokey colored cat back to her lap. “You gotta look pretty if you want some old crow to take you home one of these days.” Coraline sat crisscross in the middle of the small room, brushing this conniving cat’s long, somewhat matted fur. “Of course, I’d take you home just like this,” she mused, running her fingers along the slowly smoothing coat. “But, you know Mrs. B hates cats.” Something in her said red flag, something louder said IGNORE IT. Coraline was half-cat herself, she figured. She seemed to occupy the same wavelength as these sneaky, slinky little guys: their eyes and tails alert, their little legs always poised to run. Coraline knew about running.

The cat relaxed in her lap, succumbing to the kneading motions supplied by Coraline’s brush and fingers. “Maybe you can be my psychic’s assistant,” she whispered. “What kind of witch doesn’t have a cat?” The handful of other cats in this small room continued on ignoring them. They slept like the dead on cat towers in the corner, they investigated their food bowls like they were considering the threat of poison.

Something opened the glass door then, and her psychic’s assistant went bounding for the exit. She couldn’t blame him, but there was someone she could blame. “What are you, some kind of vigilante whose idea of justice is letting cats loose in an overcrowded and understaffed animal shelter?” Of course, the rest of the cats had only ignored the door and the gray blob running toward it. Still, Coraline had spent the better part of the hour trying to brush this cat’s hair, and as soon as she’d managed to keep him still - voilà. “You better have a good reason,” she said, standing from her spot in the center of the room, and stepping forward in attempt to grab the cat back.

[witchycoraline]

ofkingsandshadows:

The deafening cacophony of screams and glass was suddenly sucked into nothingness. The silence rang in Ram’s ears, even louder than the panic that had clouded over the carnival like a thunderous, murderous storm. Noises still fumbled around in the background, fighting to be hears, but the red-hot screech of pain clawing at his skin was all Ramón could focus on. When he looked down at his arm, it didn’t feel like his own. He knew that the scalding sensation was pain; he knew that it was burning his veins as they pumped streams of glinting crimson onto the dirt, but still he couldn’t recognise his mangled skin. Shock, as cold as ice, froze him to the spot. Rooted, he remained silent, managing but a whisper, like that of the wind fluttering through the leafless branches of an age-old tree. “We’re okay.”

It was a lie, and he knew it, but at least they were still breathing. Reality was a cold, hard smack, and it hit Ramón hard as his eyes finally came into focus. The world pumped up the volume, and the glass wall that had separated him from what had just transpired came crashing down. Relief undid the lump in his throat, thrusting it up into his eyes until fat droplets of salty tears began rolling down his rounded cheeks. 

Through violent sniffling, Ramón began to inspect his friend. “A-are you okay?” he asked, ignoring the searing pain that sliced through him as he reached for Coraline, his skin stretching, widening the cuts that bubbled with fresh pools of blood. He wanted to ask what the damage was. He wanted to get her someplace safe. He wanted to look for the rest of his friends. 

Once tears had started rolling, though, they refused to abate, and Ramón felt the yank of terrified sobs tear themselves from his throat. He lunged forwards, wrapping his arms around Coraline, pulling her into a messy, watery, bloody embrace, and buried his face in her colorful hair. Maybe he’d regret this later. Maybe, one day, when the events of this day were but a faint shudder that taunted them with dying nightmares, they’d be able to joke about it. About how Ramón was clinging to her, and how Coraline, despite herself, had proven that she really did feel affection for him. 

They sat in an exhausted lump for what felt like hours. When Ramón finally pulled back, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and still glistened with stubborn moisture that threatened to trickle down his lashes. He wiped at the unshed tears almost angrily, his frustration akin to that of a child. One who understood the weight of tragedy, but couldn’t fully accept it. One who still clung to a naïve belief in magic. In the good of the world.

“We… W-we need to get you some help,” Ramón finally said, voice thick with exhaustion. 

Coraline held onto Ram like a lifeline. Annoying as he could be, his was the only face in this town she could stand to laugh around, the only voice she could bear to smile upon hearing (so long as he didn’t see). She couldn’t imagine being trapped in such a shattering situation with anyone else.

She felt his tears before she heard them, and she heard them before she understood them. Sure, maybe it was shock, adrenaline, the quick spike and fall of fear, but it would be fine. They would be fine. The earth was quieting, and picking up again every few minutes. But, Coraline felt that the worst of it had passed. She opened her mouth to say something, to ask, but she closed it before she could. She knew the names of those ghosts in his head, but she didn’t know their faces. She didn’t know what it was they told him in those times where he would retreat back to them.

“Me?” Coraline said, finally. No doubt she was bleeding in a spot or seven, but those were nothing - shallow enough that she hadn’t even noticed their arrival. “Look at your arm,” she said, looking anywhere but. All around them lay the tatters of this godforsaken carnival. She supposed it was some sort of cosmic irony that this whole twisted attempt to honor a more than likely dead man should go to such shit for the rest of them. Though, the more she looked around, the whole thing seemed not too different from the aftermath of any carnival after all its patrons had made their way back up the hill to home.

“Get up,” she said when the rumbling hushed down to a bearable level once more. She slung his arm over her shoulders, and felt his weight lean against hers. She pulled the two of them up to their feet, and scanned the scene for a damn exit.

“Shouldn’t there be an ambulance here by now?” she said. “Or, you know, twelve?” She pulled her jacket’s sleeve tighter around Ram’s arm, and hobbled them toward the tent where a small crowd was gathered. Surely, they could do something.

[witchycoraline]

morozovich:

Her words circled in on themselves like spells from nursery rhymes. Dima was dizzy with it; The altered reality all around him didn’t help. When nothing had shape, everything looked like shadow, and the dark corners of his vision writhed with nightmares.

The glass of the walls was cool to the touch, and Dima took a tentative step sideways. His skin squeaked against the mirror, smearing fingerprints in their wake.

It was as good a plan as any.

Dima continued his journey that way, always walking parallel to a wall, his fingers dragging against the reflection. When the wall turned, so did he. "Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t still be here, would I?” Dima said, as he stepped further into the maze. The lights above blinked as one of them flickered out, falling to its own exhaustion.

He bumped into a wall softly, breath sending condensation across the surface as he cursed. He reached out with his right hand this time, and met wall again–

A dead end.

“Shit.”

But when he turned, there she was, like something his fear had conjured up. He didn’t know her, but her eyes stared out at him with an intensity he could feel even in the soft light. Dima shivered.

“Uh, hello.” He peeked at her bag. “Nice fish.”

Coraline rolled her eyes at the voice as it trailed on. Whoever it was sounded like someone who wasn’t too accustomed to admitting defeat - Coraline would know. “How should I know you’re not here for the fun and amazement of it all?” she said. “I’m sure there’s a freak out there who thinks of this as a good time.”

She walked on further into the maze, feeling as if she were sinking deeper and deeper into the earth. Her reflections walked on beside her, and Coraline was beginning to ignore them. Still, they floated on like ghosts that just couldn’t believe their haunting garnered them no attention from the girl. That is, until she saw a new one.

“Oh,” she said. “Mr. Voice has a Mr. Body.”

It was a little unnerving, but not completely surprising to run into an unfamiliar face in Hermosa. Even after these past few years in the town, Coraline knew there remained a good number of people she didn’t know. She tried not to make a habit of getting too chummy with just anyone.

“They’re going right back in the nearest pond, not staying in these plastic prisons,” she said. “As soon as I find my way out of this hole.”

Coraline studied him a moment more. “So, how long you been wandering this little hell?” she said, scrutinizing. “Six hundred years? A millennium? You look pretty dead in the eyes, lark.”

[witchycoraline]

ofkingsandshadows:

Her voice thrust Ramón into action. He nodded, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to swallow the panic down, to keep it at arm’s length until they were out of there, somewhere safe enough for him to just… Break. Now was not the time for that.  “Okay. Y-yeah. Yeah, we gotta–” He stood. The twisted hand of Fate came slapping down against his cheek as, just as he straightened up, Ramón fell victim to another showering of glass. His arm rose on instinct, but a few tiny shards managed to fly over the barrier, cutting the bridge of his nose and above his eyebrow, tiny slices that made his eyes water. A curse hissed from between his gritted teeth; ignoring the discomfort, the panic, the sheer terror of it all, Ramón ducked down and seized Coraline by the arms, hauling her up and curling his lanky torso around her, trying as best as he could to act as a shield. 

The pair dashed, muscles beginning to ache and lock up as they dodged the shaking ground and gravity’s vicious tug, which pulled down mirror after mirror. At one point, Ramón’s ankle caught against the corner of a particularly large one, his distorted reflection mirroring the alarm widening his eyes as he fell into a pool of glass. He broke the fall with his left arm, the jagged, twinkling shapes embedding themselves into his bloody flesh. A cry tore itself from his throat, raw and pained. Out of the corner of his eye, Ramón caught sight of another mirror hauling itself to the ground, and he shuffled forwards, bracing himself against the pain as dirt and even more glass clung to his mangled skin.

“Coraline!?” He called out amidst the ruckus, his vision growing blurry with the accumulating tears. “Fuck, are you–” He saw her. A few feet ahead. “Go, go! Just keep going!” 

His heartbeat, a rapid, deep thunking of his heart, beating violently against his ribcage, muted everything around him. He could hear the surrounding chaos as though through a wooden door. The white-hot flashes of pain, along with the overwhelming static of panic, inundated his ears. Adrenaline bled through and out of him. Ramón shoved himself to his feet, hugging his injured arm to his chest, blinking against the blood gushing down over his eye, as the skin just below his hairline split open. He couldn’t even tell when that had happened. 

Finally, he managed to catch up to his friend. With a clammy, trembling hand, Ramón reached out, grabbing hers in a vice-like grip. He couldn’t tell if it was more to comfort himself or her; all he knew was the immense relief that, just for a moment, soothed everything else. She was alright. Surely, she was alright.

If it weren’t for the roaring of the room, Coraline would have smacked him. Some things could be saved for later. She gripped his shaking hand in hers, and barely resisted the urge to hiss a chorus line of curses at him. She heard that terrible, desperate voice that called to her just a moment ago - “Go, go! Just keep going!” Who does this guy think he is? Batman?

Coraline clutched to the moment, knowing she couldn’t let her mind wander - not here, not now. She fails, moments later, recalling the tarot card she’d dropped this morning while shuffling, how it landed in the middle of the floor, staring her in the face from its reverse position. The Wheel of Fortune.

She remembers how Mrs. B had walked in as Coraline stared down at it, suspicious. Mrs. B just picked the card up with a smile, and took the pile from Coraline’s hands. “Silly girl,” she’d said brightly, shuffling the cards easily before setting them back down on the mantle. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the carnival?”

Mrs. B, Mrs. B. Coraline pushed the misplaced anxiety from her head. The earth was fucking shaking, and she was worried about Mrs. B and her vaguely worrying, misplaced smiles, her words that came out sweet as candy even in desperate times.

Coraline forced herself back into the goddamn mirror maze, and thrust her denim jacket over both their heads like an umbrella. She felt bruises spreading on her skin like stains, and cuts she didn’t remember receiving.

Ahead of them, she watched a mirror splinter down its middle, fracturing out to the sides, reaching upwards and outwards like the branches from a tree. But, as Coraline watched, it refused to shatter like its twins around it. “Ram,” she said, stomping toward it on shaky feet and broken glass. She kicked at the lone mirror with her boot. She kicked it again, and again, and again. She was beginning to see some small light coming from behind the splinters. She heard muffled sounds, finally separate from this goddamn hall.

Finally, she wound her arm back, and punched the damn thing. Her fist went flying through the glass, and collided with something far more solid on the other side. Suddenly, light filled her vision, and she pulled Ram to stand beside her on the outside. Someone stood before you, holding his nose and looking at her in horror. She couldn’t place him in the moment - Cedric Something, total dick. She ignored his exclamations, and turned to Ram, world still shaking beneath them. Her eyes darted down to his arm. “Ram,” she said, helpless. “Ram, Ram, stupid, stupid boy,” she said. The carnival raged on around them, and the hanging lights returned to her eyes, swinging through the sky. People shouted, but she couldn’t hear them. Cedric walked away.

She lowered Ram down to a sitting position on the ground, and sat beside him, stretching his injured arm out in front of him, elevating it for him. She thought of the fish across the park. She tied her jacket’s denim sleeve around his arm as tight as she could manage, anything to stop the bleeding. The ground was not going to stop for them. An earthquake? Coraline had only taken two years of science, but somehow called bullshit on an earthquake in Maine of all places. Fucking Hermosa. “Ram,” she said for what felt like the twentieth time. “Can you hear me?” she said, looking helplessly on the litany of shallow cuts that had landed on his face. “Can you hear me, crow?”

[witchycoraline]

curiovser:

Alice, who considered people her craft, knew the exact moment when Coraline pivoted, shifting from irritation to apprehension. That was when Alice knew there was a fish to catch, a mystery to hook - and a curiosity worth pursuing. The problem was, she couldn’t put a finger on the scope of it - whether it was malicious by nature, scandalous or simply personal. Those, the kind that revealed themselves as they went along, had always been her favourite. Padding along the garden path softly, Alice’s motions were deliberate, not wanting to frighten Coraline away - or push her into an infernal rage from which they would never recover. All in all, she had to admire Coraline’s snark. It was well placed. “Nah, I like my cockroaches.” She quipped, only half-joking. “She is a mysterious one though, isn’t she? Is she here tonight?”

“Of course you would,” she said. “They go everywhere they’re not supposed to, and are impossible to get rid of. You’re practically their mother.” Coraline couldn’t say why, but she bristled at Alice’s thinly veiled suspicion of Ms. Lovat. The woman was one of the good ones, even if her grandson was more annoying than a kick in the head. “Ms. Lovat’s good people,” she said, slipping into her father’s familiar phrase. She could see the eye roll she’d surely earn from her mother for repeating it.

“If you’re looking for mysterious, ask Mr. Bobinski about Chernobyl,” she said, recalling the forty minute answer she’d gotten in response to an innocent quip asking what the eighties were like.

[witchycoraline]

tofbloodyknvckles:

All buttercup did at first was to look at coraline from head to toe, arms crossed in front of her chest in order to muffle the obnoxiously wild throbbing of her heart. she wasn’t the least bit surprised to find coraline here. she’d spotted traces of it before – coraline’s liking for the odd, that is. such an strange fascination to own, she figured the other would drop by the location at some point in the night. her cheeks ever so tinted by a soft crimson hue, buttercup looked away as she lifted an eyebrow. classic coraline, getting herself in rabbit holes hard to crawl out from.   

    their tinder adventure had been an unusual event in the pattern of buttercup’s routine. she’d always been the first one to rip dating applications to shreds – “ they’re nothing stupid algorithms, con jobs designed to make people think they’re compatible with someone and that they won’t die alone. nothing good can come up of relationships sparked by tinder, ” she’d said. sure that the attempt would end up in nothing other than failure, buttercup still found herself downloading the godforsaken app. she’d filled out her profile and browsed through the suitors, all in between groans and eyerolls. she’d witnessed it in person, how the setting up two people was likely to go down in flames ( just ask blossom and the professor. ) still, the moment her screen happily claimed that the two had ‘matched’, she hadn’t hesitated to engage in the conversation with coraline. that is, until the infamous tea leaves reading offer came about. 

    what was it about fortune tellers and psychics that threw her off so much? she was quick to label any and all of them as charlatans, but always made sure never to disclose her reasoning. buttercup found it in her never to trust anyone who claimed to know a person based on the the remains of tea herbs or whichever crooked line they could find in their palm. however, it was that, having always been a secretive person when it came to her past, she was not willing to give money to anyone offering to reverberate it to her. that fraction of her had been long locked away, only for her ( not some kooky dooks ) to bring up.  why was it, then, that she’d ended up at mrs. b’s parlor that time? she had no idea.

    “ clever and charming as always, jones, ” she smirked. the other’s nickname ( ‘slug’ ) still felt bizarre, the similitude it painted between her and animals / insects having never settled down in her. “ really ? ” she tainted. “ guess it stood out to me as you having difficulties finding the exit. that, or you choosing a fucking strange place to hang around while waiting for your food to get soggy. ” now buttercup let out a soft chuckle, perhaps a bit too amused at her own wit. still, she didn’t mean to take coraline down. she was no villain, no thug, after all. buttercup, needing of a navigator? over her dead body. still, she played a bit – the young woman dug her hands in her jacket pockets, shrugging gently. “ might be. if you know your way around so well, you wouldn’t mind showing me the way out, would you? ”

You could say Coraline had a habit for digging her own grave till the dirt gave out beneath her feet, but you couldn’t say she didn’t embrace it. If Coraline was going down, Buttercup was going down with her. She quickly shook the blush that double meaning gave her, and popped a bite of deep-fried-she-forgets-what into her mouth. “My pleasure,” she said, stepping around the corner without checking to see if Buttercup was following. “Maybe I’ll finally earn my badge for assisting your local juvenile delinquent.”

The mirrors gave way to - you guessed it - more mirrors. Coraline trailed them from hall to hall to twisting, turning hall. She watched Buttercup without watching her - stealing glances at the girl’s reflection where she walked just a step behind Coraline. She watched their shifting reflections follow alongside them, those girls with their colors stirring together and hands swirling where they walked. The mirrors painted a picture too close to that of the pair holding hands, or falling into each other. Coraline walked quicker to put a subtle distance between those lying girls.

She peeked back at Buttercup’s reflection as they walked farther in, or farther out. Who knew? "So where’s Siamese-Twins-One-and-Two?” she said, finally, surprised to run into Buttercup without at least one of those sisters close behind. She peeked around the next corner, half expecting to see them playing poker on the floor, or braiding each other’s hair - whatever sisters did. “Getting over their separation anxiety?”

[witchycoraline]

ofkingsandshadows:

Ramón was in the midst of a silent mimicry of Coraline’s teasing when the rumbling began. He froze, eyes wide and staring at the ground; tongue hanging out of his mouth, the contorted expression he’d been pulling as he made fun of his friend slowly melting away to reveal a thinly-veiled layer of terror. Closing his mouth, Ramón looked up. The rumbling felt like distant thunder, growling as it slowly, steadily, crept towards them. It was like a stampede; a violent avalanche, beastly and tremendous, unstoppable in the face of two small, perishable people. 

The lightning in this storm, the surrounding mirrors rattled and trembled as though in fear. To their left, Ramón saw one of them crack; his eyes widened as an invisible knife slashed through the glass, sending shards splattering everywhere in bloody, reflective pools. Further down, in places neither could see, mirrors collapsed like tumbling bodies. Ramón couldn’t help but match the sounds to images of his friends, loved ones, collapsing under the catastrophic whims of nature. His mind was reeling, and he barely noticed when Coraline snapped him forwards. Instinct overtook paralysis, and Ramón wrapped his arms around her, ducking his head to keep both of them protected. While perhaps to some it mightn’t be so tremendous, Ramón’s panic exaggerated everything around them. Over and over, in his head, echoes of car tyres screeching, of glass shattering, of metal bodies groaning as they were crushed into unnatural shapes snarled like ravenous beasts over the earth’s lashing quakes. He could see his parents, trapped and broken, under the weight of their crumpled car. 

Ramón squeezed his eyes shut, the pinprick of pain that sliced across his left cheekbone forgotten as soon as it was felt. All he could feel was the warmth of Coraline’s body in his arms. He clung to it. Held on like a lifeline. He couldn’t let anything happen to her- happen to anybody. 

Ramón’s eyes snapped open. Where was Marley? Kingsley? Meg? Were they safe? Was Dimitri okay? Last he’d seen him, he’d been drinking from his flask. Taking advantage of his generosity. How could he use somebody like that? Ramón felt his heart lodge itself in his throat, making his breathing tear inside him. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, hard, pinching the skin white as a wave of nausea flooded him, making him feel dizzy. 

As the mirrors shattered around them, Ram held on tighter.

Coraline remembered every shove she’d given Ram over the years, every instance in which she’d pushed him from her with a roll of her eyes at the prospect of a friendly hug, of a comforting arm around the shoulder. She felt his arms locked around her now, and kicked herself for it all. Who would have thought there’d come a day where Ram was the only still thing, the one thing refusing to wobble? She held onto her friend, thankful for the unexpected sturdiness of him.

She felt the falling glass crash against her back, heard it drop to the floor all around them. She focused on Ram’s breath, counting the exhales pressing against her cheek like a pulse - the proof of one. It hadn’t occurred to her that Ram was the only one here she could imagine being stuck with. Had it been any of those other ducks, Coraline couldn’t imagine holding onto them like this, couldn’t imagine not risking a run for the inscrutable exit.

She felt a drop of blood run down her cheek, warm and trembling against her skin, and realized it hadn’t come from her, but from a small cut on Ram’s own face. “Ram,” she said over the shaking of the hall, and the striking of the glass around them. “Ram,” she said, breathing it out with all she had in her lungs, thankful to have him here, despite the shit she’d give him should they make it out of here. “Can you hear me?” She clutched tighter at his back. “We need to get out of here, Ram.”

[witchycoraline]

buttercup:

Things were changing in the quaint, cozy town of hermosa. the energy in the picture perfect settlement of pastel houses and artificial green lawns located right in the outskirts of maine felt somewhat unfamiliar. ‘ even the air feels different, ’ buttercup had been quick to note —- an obvious truth, with the scents of cinnamon and candy floss now hanging heavy in the air. the bundle of bright lights, food stands and variety of rides had popped up like an exotic daisy in the patch of grass that was hermosa. call her a pessimist all you want, but the joke just wouldn’t settle in her. sure, she loved all things amusement park-related, but the insistence with which the carnival had been allowed to stand in spite of the man’s mysterious disappearance had rubbed her the wrong way. 

      choosing to keep her thoughts to herself, buttercup had spent a large chunk of the night wandering around on her own. for now, she would allow others to indulge in the generous variety of deep-friend gastronomy and bask in the glow of the rides’ neon bulbs. at an unfortunate point of the night, she found herself being persuaded ( much to her dismay ) by the gaudy-dressed herald standing at the mouth of the hall of mirrors. 

“ THINK YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO FIND THE WAY OUT ?”  he beamed. “ COME ONE, COME ALL, AND STEP INTO THE MIRROR MAZE ! DELVE INTO THE MOST PUZZLING CORNERS OF THE HUMAN MIND ! BUT BE CAREFUL, AS  APPEARANCES CAN BE DECEIVING, AND NOT EVERYTHING IS WHAT IT SEEMS !  NOTHING BUT THE CARNIVAL’S MOST EXCITING ATTRACTION ! ” 

   it couldn’t get more attractive than that. hands deep in her jacket’s pockets, buttercup would be somewhat proud of the progress she’d made once in the attraction itself. her collision rate had remained at 0%, with her pace as constant as it’d started out. however, she was forced to slow down and turn her head at whoever was apparently reaching out for her. she hadn’t managed to accurately locate the other until, after taking a couple steps forward, buttercup almost ran into the other’s arm ( thankfully, she hadn’t managed to make the other drop her carton of what seemed to be mac n’ cheese. ) 

    “ a human who’s standing right in front of you. be careful with that, or else you’re going to make someone real mad if it ends up spilling all over them, ” the young woman motioned at the carton of deep fried food, somewhat sure that not many would appreciate their outfits becoming the canvas for a deep fried food extravaganza. “ lost ? ”

Coraline jumped back from the impact the girl had provided with her coming around the corner. She looked up in exasperation to see Buttercup - the bug herself - standing there, judging Coraline’s deep fried food with a face far from forgiving. Coraline remembered a similar look the first time they’d met. Buttercup had been dragged along to Mrs. B’s parlor - functioning as Coraline’s psychic studio - by one of her sisters. Coraline couldn’t remember which it was, she tended to steer clear of those girls if she could help it. She never was one to appreciate the nosy ones, nosy as she was.

Buttercup had seemed less than impressed with Coraline’s tarot reading, to say the least. Her crystal ball earned her nothing but a short laugh. It was when Coraline pulled out the tea leaves that some spark of recognition cut through the sneering, and after a painful minute and a half of staring one another down across a coffee table, both of them seemed to realize at once where they recognized the other from. Tinder.

Coraline would run on back to Pontiac before she’d admit to another breathing being that she was on Tinder. “I wouldn’t be caught dead on Tinder! Do I look like some desperate, horny teenager looking for nudes and a dead end conversation with every other loser sad enough to buy into capitalism’s latest attempt at commandeering romance?” But there, across the coffee table, sat a living witness. They’d matched a few months back by that point, and though they both showed their own sharp edges, the girls had clicked for a few days worth of messages sent in secret. That is, until Coraline offered to read Buttercup’s tea leaves sometime. The conversation halted then and there.

“Human might be an overstatement, slug,” she said, maybe puffing up her chest a bit, maybe trying to look taller. The girl frustrated her in more ways than one, and goddamn whoever it is they call the Creator if he got Coraline stuck for eternity with this walking bug bite. “Lost?” she said, digging a hole for herself. “I’ll have you know that I am here on my own accord, and will walk right out whenever I feel like it,” she said, feigning interest in her own strained and strenuous reflection in the mirror behind Buttercup. “Is that your way of saying you need a navigator to get you out of a carnival attraction?”

[witchycoraline]

alice:

“Really?” Alice asked, features redrawn as a frown, lined with skepticism. “Aren’t you Psychic? Shouldn’t the future…reveal itself?” Alice had never allowed herself to be tugged down that garden path. Perhaps it was a matter of time - there were so many other directions in the maze and so few days. Or maybe it was a skepticism, bred into her. She could almost hear her mother’s voice in the back of her mind - fortune tellers? Oh, that’s not very classy. More likely, it was jealousy. If Coraline could know the future - and therefore the answers - she saw something Alice did not, something her eyes would never glimpse. Still, she had never asked for a reading. With Coraline’s question, Pandora opened her own box. Unforgivably, perhaps, Alice had no hesitation in pouncing, like Artemis on a hunt, bow struck. Itching, Alice begun to scratch at the surface. “We can start with that Pink Palace of yours, if you’d like.” 

Coraline rolled her eyes to the sky. Those who seemed to believe her tarot cards, or her crystal ball were television sets, and she held the remote - that she could change the channel to any particular picture at will had always been more annoying than those who called it all a hoax. Their sneering, self important words rang in her head. If you’re psychic, why didn’t you predict this? If you’re psychic, why can’t you tell me how the world ends?

Quickly enough, that annoyance turned back to nerves. Her skin prickled with it. That Pink Palace of yours. Coraline couldn’t keep the sweat from her brow. Alice Liddell under her skin, what a surprise. Her head swam with the words. Something told her Mrs. B wouldn’t appreciate Coraline spreading rumors about the woman, much less to a blogger who gets off on exposing imagined mysteries to the internet.

“What?” she said. “Looking for a room, Alice? Just stop by Ms. Lovat’s place, I’m sure we can find you something.” 

[witchycoraline]

ramon:

First, Ramón beamed at her. Then, his smile fell. Into a grumpy frown. “Hey!” he whined, accepting the carton without even looking at it; poking at Coraline’s shoulder with the other hand. “I’m always useful! You just don’t get to enjoy some of my use, is all.” He wiggled his brows suggestively. In his state, though, it felt clumsy, and slow. Not as attractive as Ram could usually pull off such a gesture. 

As Coraline turned to the myriad of mirages wobbling around them, Ramón dug into the food and rested his head on her shoulder. He chewed contentedly, wide, chocolate brown eyes falling closed in glutinous joy. His cheeks were filled to the brim with greasy food. In Ram’s chest, a satisfied rumble followed the happy gurgling in his belly. 

The carton was emptied by the time Coraline began to speak again, and Ramón swallowed down the last of his mouthful, barking out a laugh when she conjured up the memory in his head. He could feel his eyes beginning to sting with fresh tears, which he quickly wiped with his index knuckle. “That… was… so funny!” Ramón wheezed through his laughter. “You have to admit it! C’mon, it was. Right?”

Coraline, incapable of keeping herself from rolling her eyes at Ram in the best of times, rolled her eyes skyward, swallowing down the laughter that threatened to bubble up. “You disgust me, Ramón,” she bumped him in the shoulder with her own. His eyebrow gestures were bad enough when he was sober - but this, this was a new low.

“And, I don’t have to admit anything,” she teased. “Especially not a lie like that.”

The hall was twisting, twirling, and never ending, and then it was rumbling, shaking, and struggling. Coraline heard glass shatter behind their heads, and turned to see the shards smash to the ground. She watched the glass splinters zoom to the black floor, reflecting back on itself all the way till floor collided with floor.

It should have been a red flag that her initial reaction was that of fear - not for the earthquake tumbling under her feet - but for Mrs. B’s rare, but searing shows of anger when the woman believed she’d been disobeyed. Coraline stuffed the red flag in a drawer and locked it away. Mrs. B couldn’t blame her for this. How could she be anything other than worried to death, and thankful to find Coraline alive? So long as she made it out of here, that is.

Coraline remembered Ramón beside her, and snatched his nearest hand in hers as she crouched to the floor, shielding her face from the falling, flying glass. “Get down!” she shouted over the roaring of the room.

[witchycoraline]

MARLEY:

Coraline inspired in Marley the same trepidation she felt towards Alice—not because she was afraid of Coraline manipulating the truth out of her, but because Coraline was magic. Real magic. If she could see the future, what if she could read the past? Worse of all, what if her future was the same as her past? Her father cornering her, her sisters babying her, the sea staying the same forever.

Marley hadn’t realized any of this until she found herself lost with Coraline as her only company. That was the problem with the Hall of Mirrors; it was hard to escape, and even harder to escape yourself. After all, your reflection was everywhere.

“Is it that obvious?” Marley said with a sheepish smile. At least Coraline might know her way around. But her relief faded to surprise at how frankly she spoke of Maurice. “But there was no body,” she reasoned, almost with herself more than with Caroline, “Don’t you think there’s still hope?”

Coraline watched Marley’s eyes flicker like changing channels, jumping from word to word before taking it all in. Maurice, she thought. A familiar enough name for a less familiar man. She knew a thing or two about disappearing - of running from family - but, from what she’s heard of the man in these past few days, he doesn’t seem the type. Of course, if these people took off their rose colored glasses for more than a minute, maybe they’d paint a clearer picture. Maybe the man was more than a bumbling father, maybe he had something else to run to, or something to run away from.

Coraline couldn’t be sure what the people of Pontiac said of her upon her running away - if they made her sound like a poor victim, someone who would never abandon her family! Or, if they were a little more truthful. Or, maybe they just forgot all about her soon as she was out of sight.

Her skin itched all over. Marley was a nice girl, an interesting girl. But, the combined anxieties of being trapped in this goddamn maze, and being trapped with one of the only people she couldn’t seem to be her normal self around was daunting to say the least. “Maybe you’re right,” she said, simply. “Maybe there’s hope.” Hope that he’s abandoned his daughter? she didn’t say. And of his own free will? she didn’t say.

Coraline turned to the mirrors opposite them, and watched their reflections swirl and mix into one shapeless, colorful entity trapped forever in the glass. “What do you think happened to him?” she said, not knowing why. She’d meant to ask where Marley had come in, if she knew where the exit was to this place, but somehow, the wrong words had come out.

“Maurice, I mean,” she clarified, as if it weren’t clear. If she dug herself into a hole, may as well keep digging. Coraline always did like the dirt.

[witchycoraline]

“I wouldn’t be caught dead on Tinder! Do I look like some desperate, horny teenager looking for nudes and a dead end conversation with every other loser sad enough to buy into capitalism’s latest attempt at commandeering romance?”

[lassi]

person: how are you me: *checks my mood ring* im normal & nervous

[witchycoraline]

ofkingsandshadows:

“Caroline,” he retorted, mimicking her tone. It was the kind of response one would expect from a sulky younger brother, who’d just been teased. The irony here being that Ramón was a fair few years older than Coraline. Physically speaking, of course. Lungs deflating and cheeks puffing out in a heavy sigh, Ramón let his body slump into a nearby mirror, shoulder digging painfully into the wobbly-shaped glass as he closed his eyes. His surroundings were starting to make him feel a little dizzy. 

Still, he appreciated Coraline’s laugh, and, as he wiped the drying tears from the corners of his eyes, he offered her a little chortle in return. You’re adorable, he wanted to say in return, but, lest she either break his balls and/or never let him live the moment down, Ramón kept quiet, instead stretching his tiny smirk into a wide grin. It crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

It dropped fairly quickly. 

“Hey!” Ramón complained, pushing himself off the mirror and stumbling towards her. His index floated up to prod clumsily at her shoulder. “I am perfectly useful, just… Not right now. Right now…” He paused, looking down at the spot he was standing in. He nodded to himself, “right now, I want to take a nap. Right here.”

Something told Coraline this night was going to be a long one. She paced before Ramón, peeking around the corners to their left and right, only to find more dizzying reflections of her own face. Even as she retreated, slumping down on the ground beside Ramón, her head spun with worry. Mrs. B would never hurt her, of course. But, Coraline would do anything to keep the woman’s anger at bay. She shook her head of the thoughts, the fears. Mrs. B was a dream come true. Her palms itched.

“Sure,” she said, tiredly. “You can be useful.” Coraline extended the half-eaten carton of deep fried whatever it was toward him in offering. “Sometimes,” she added quickly.

She watched their shrunken, eroded reflections, and smiled despite her anxious thoughts. Ramón slowed her down when she needed it, and could bring her right back up to speed should she need a jolt. “Like the time you sweet talked that guy into letting us use a ouija board in his obviously haunted basement,” she said, smiling with the memory. They’d spoken with a spirit for twenty minutes. Tragic death, left behind two kids, here since 1942. When the spirit said her name was Caroline, Coraline looked Ramón right in the eye, and threw the planchette at his chest.

“Useful to a point,” she said.

[knowthyselfrp]

      AGE RANGE: 20  //  OCCUPATION: SELF EMPLOYED PSYCHIC //  PRONOUNS: she/her

Ah, you’re one of the curious ones – the one in frequent need of something to explore. Your parents never understood you, and everyone else in Hermosa is just like them. Except for your Other Mother. Oh no, she’s different. She gives you what you want without hesitation – she understands what you want – yet you hold back. You keep your guard up. Could it be your distrust of the people around you, or is it something more? Is this not what you wish for? Running away from your real parents and finding refuge in Hermosa, and eventually meeting a maternal figure who would give you what you wanted – is that not what you wished for? Well, maybe it’s time you take this to heart: be careful what you wish for.

Wybie Lovatt – What an annoying boy he is. You consider him “one of them” – the adults who just don’t understand what you believe in. You’re just much too mature for people like him, despite the fact that you’re basically the same age. From the moment you met him, you found this boy strange – but not the good kind. Just the kind that gets on your nerves. Still, maybe it isn’t such a sin to consider him your friend.

Cat – He seems to know something you do not, and you stay around him for that very reason. He’s such a cryptic character, yet you know fully well that mystery is something you cannot resist. Despite your original dislike for him, he might just be the person who saves you from falling prey to your curiosity. It might be most prudent to actually listen to him.

Curiosity is something that ticks the Creator off quite greatly. However, he doesn’t seem to be that bothered about your curiosity. In truth, he knows you’re still too preoccupied with your Other Mother to actually care about the history of Hermosa. In fact, he believes that the town’s secret disinterests you. You aren’t a threat to the Creator – that Cat, however, the Creator’s definitely afraid of him.

Ariela Barer

Keep reading

[witchycoraline]

marleyyoung:

She had no good reason for entering the Hall of Mirrors besides curiosity. Besides wanting to prove to herself that she COULD navigate through her endless reflections and find her way out. Marella had been adventurous and fearless, and Marley was all those things as well with one major difference: she had the freedom to act on her every whim, chase every butterfly, entertain every fancy and reckless idea that came to mind. She knew what her sisters would say about wandering through the Hall of Mirrors alone; aren’t you afraid of getting lost, or scared?

Of course she wasn’t. She was going to be just fine. Marley beamed at the attendant at the entrance and strolled through with her head held high. She ran her fingers across the glass as she walked by, occasionally made faces at her reflection and burst into giggles at the result. It was easy to feel like she was completely alone here. She took her time through the halls, walking and not running towards the exit.

But of course, such wandering got girls lost. Such wandering made it easy to forget where she had come from and where she was going. When Marley realized she had gotten lost in her thoughts for too long, she stopped. And when a voice called out in the middle of contemplating her next step, Marley smiled with relief. “It’s Marley,” she called out, turning around in a wide circle as she searched for the speaker, “and I might be lost.”

Marley. It could be worse. See, Marley was interesting. Coraline just couldn’t tell what made her so, yet. She had secrets, Coraline was sure. Maybe they were nothing - the trivial secrets held close by those with nothing of higher value to hold. But, something told Coraline these secrets were of the heavier sort. Until she decoded them, Marley would be a mystery. And mysteries were fine by her.

Coraline, prepared for a long and tiresome search to locate Marley in this goddamn maze, turned the next corner and came face to face with her. Oh, okay. “Hey, Marley,” she said, simply. She didn’t have it in her to be crass or mocking toward the girl. She gave Coraline no reason to be, and if Coraline were honest, that made her anxious. She didn’t know how to keep someone at a distance if not for calling them names and scaring them off with threatening predictions and a bad attitude.

“This your first time?” she asked. “You know, being lost in a never ending maze of mirrors at a carnival dedicated to a more than likely dead man?”