Herman Fuller Collaboration Page

The Things Lollipop Is Not Allowed To Do At The Circus Of The Disquieting

Please note: This list is not a joke. Each entry is something Lollipop either did, attempted to do, or at the very least expressed an interest in doing.

Attempt to break her record of drinking 5 7 8 pints of Clown's Milk in one sitting.
Attempt to break her record of producing 3 1/2 5 1/2 6 1/2 pints of Clown's Milk in one sitting.
Call a Circus wide emergency conference to decide whether Quincy's butterflies pollinating Yume's flowers counts as sex.
Debate customers on the validity of the Fifthist Church's teachings.
Stretch Meaty the Meat Worm into a Mobius strip.
Attempt to guess Manny's actual name.
Change the gravity in the bounce house from 'Moon' to 'Sun'.
Order any Wondertainment product that is living, explosive, radioactive, poisonous, autonomous, expensive or requires adult supervision without Icky's permission.
Create anatomically correct, animate balloon animals. (not even for educational purposes)
Challenge Motormouth to a pie eating contest.
Crawl inside Motormouth's stomach while he's sleeping in order to retrieve said pies.
Ask the Amazing Zoltan if he knows why kids love the great taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, how many licks to the center of a Tootsie Pop, etc.
Consult the Amazing Zoltan on anything other than Alchemy.
Cite the Scarlet King mythos as a 'patriarchal yet functional' example of polyamory.
Attempt to harvest silk from Library Pages.
Attempt to hack the SCP database to change every 'good freak's' special containment procedures to "set them free you assholes".
Claim she is the first openly LGBT individual to literally ride a rainbow. (It's part of the midway. I've ridden it, and I'm sure lots of other LGBT+s have too)
Incorporate Miles the Bonecat into her Pussy Lovers routine. (the boner pun was hilarious though)
Re-purpose Dicksy's old reprogenetic equipment into a DIY bio-lab. (It doesn't matter how easy Professor Abnormal made it look, self-replicating cotton candy is a disaster waiting to happen)
Arrange play-dates for Ragamuffin with other possessed dolls.
Ask Ed & Al if they stock Tartarean Brimstone. (I do not want Ragamuffin summoning play-dates for herself either)
Place Eliza inside of a custom made hamster ball.
Ask any of our Sur-prizers to create extropic bouncy balls. We're lucky that thing bounced off into space before it killed anyone.
Ask any of our Carnival Confectionarians to create extropic jumping jelly beans. Please see above.
Ride the Ferris Wheel on top of, outside of, or underneath the cars. (I know she's not in any danger, but it sets a bad example for the younger guests)
Use Cotton Candy and Calliope music recreationally during work hours.
Ride the go-carts while under the influence of the above.
Introduce wooden ponies from the Carousel to real ponies from the Petting Zoo. The experience is existentially horrifying for both of them.
Utter the phrase 'Circus Time Procedures' within earshot of Eugene.
Tell the children of guests that running away from home can turn out great.
Claim that her self-appointed position as the Circus's Princess entitles her to an adult-sized play castle. (In all fairness this turned out be a great attraction for the midway, but it still isn't hers)
Complain to The Masked Lords, The Ambassador, The Hanged King or that guy selling olive oil that Alagadda isn't colourful enough.
Attempt to weaponize Waldorf's old cannon as a defense against Essie P raids.
Ask the Shark Punching Center if they've ever fought a Sharknado.
Ride her unicyle at supersonic speeds.
Commission Anderson Robotics to create "Five Nights at Freddy's" knock off animatronics.
Attempt to spay and/or neuter any of the attractions in the Menagerie of Mayhem.
Claim that napping during work hours are 'business calls to the Oneiroi Collective'. (I don't care if she actually is talking with it, there's no reason she can't do it at night)
Make any sort of marking on an Inkling note.
Use the Kaleidoscope to harvest helium from Jupiter. (Yes, I know it's a dwindling resource. Let Elon Musk expose his ass to that much radiation to get it)
Ask any members of the Cogwork Orthodoxy how the constant ticking doesn't drive them insane.
Conduct 'sensitivity workshops'. (I know she meant well, but it ended up being far more offensive than the inciting incident)
Ask Gary to help her make crank calls to any reality's President Trump, President Clinton, President Sanders, President Ryan, President-for-life Obama, you know what, just revoke her use of Gary's phone box altogether.
Take Victor any VIP guest on a tour of the Funhouse without any accompanying children.
Order a second Obama Llama to see if they'll bite each other's testicles off.
Direct guests looking for the restrooms to the Milking tent.
Let Quincy anyone drive our Porsche!
Let any of Ripley's sea-monsters out of the Fun-house because 'they needed some fresh-air'.
Offer Clown's Milk to non-clowns she doesn't like as a covert attempt at assassination.
Secretly administer Antabuse any medication to Bubblegum anyone.
Tell Nixie that she is not allowed in her tank within an hour after eating.
Attempt to locate the City of Adytum on Google Maps.
Play 'Bloody Mary' with Pepper's mirror.
Hide all the Clown Impulse Suppressant because 'Clowns are supposed to be impulsive'.
Troll GAW chat rooms by claiming to be a gamer unironically opposed to marijuana.
Bring a 'dune worm' through the Kaleidoscope.
Ask Sandstorm to make a giant desert terrarium for said dune worm.
Call Iris Dark for tech support.
Call Percival Darke for tech support. (He doesn't have a phone, I don't know how she actually did this)
Upload nightcore remixes of Virtuoso's arias on Youtube.

Old Draft. Please Ignore.

The following is a page from a publication entitled To the Circus Born: Herman Fuller's Menagerie of Freaks. The identities of neither publisher nor author have been established, and scattered pages have been found inserted into Circus-themed books in libraries across the world. The person or persons behind this dissemination are unknown.

Icky the Magic Clown

I don’t want to complain about my parents too much. They were decent enough to me I guess, but they were also very conservative. Conservative enough that when I got old enough to realize I liked girls, I was scared. I wasn’t that great at staying in the closet either. Even back then I was fairly pretty and rumours about why I rebuffed all the boys’ affections started circulating around school. I knew it was only a matter of time before my parents heard them from somebody. I knew I had to run away but I had no idea where I would go or how I would survive.

Then the Circus came to town. Herman Fuller’s Circus of the Disquieting to be specific. I couldn’t help but notice there were quite a few young people working there, some even younger than I was, and it didn’t seem like such a bad gig. I liked performing, I’d get to travel all over and gain experience, and most importantly I’d be somewhere so freakish that being queer didn’t even register as abnormal.

After asking around a bit I ended up in the Ringmaster’s tent. At the time he acted professional enough, and I wouldn’t realize until later what a psycho he was. He interviewed me, I told him about my acting experience in school plays, drama club and the local theater. He had me do a little audition, and then asked straight up why I was running away. I told him, which was scary because I had never told anyone I was queer before. He just made a somewhat crass comment about him being ‘out of luck’, but it wasn’t a problem. Honestly, it was a relief to finally say it aloud and not be stoned to death or something.

Herman told me that he usually only hired extraordinary performers, but he could see that I had a sparkle of potential. He said that if I joined his Circus and let him work his magic to transform me into something extraordinary, I’d be fed, clothed, and given a bed to sleep in, and no one would mind should I chose to bring another girl to that bed. I happily agreed, oblivious to the fact that when he said he was going to ‘work his magic’ to ‘transform me’ he wasn’t speaking figuratively.

Herman stowed me away in one of the caravans until we left town, but I did hear my parents calling for me outside before then. They sounded so upset, and I felt so terrible I cried, but I didn’t go to them. I never saw them again. I know I broke their hearts. I figure they eventually pieced together that I ran away because I was queer, and I wonder if they ever felt guilty for making me feel that was my only option. Maybe not. Maybe they denied the rumours, or maybe they were glad to be rid of their deviant daughter. I’ll never know.

Once we were out of town Herman had Manny show me around the Circus to see where I’d fit in best, and I really hit it off with the Clowns. Most people think Clowns are creepy, if not plain horrifying, upon seeing us up close, but I was awestruck by their supernatural and theatrical talents. I said they were amazing, and Manny muttered that that's what Fuller thought too.

The Clowns took a liking to me as well, and after I had been working with them for a while the prospect of ‘conversion’ was brought up. I had never seriously considered the idea of becoming anything other than Human before, mainly because I didn’t know that was possible, but as Tinkles went over the procedure with me I found it more and more appealing. I felt so bad about leaving my parents, but Clowns were always happy. The Clowns were amazing, and I wanted to be amazing, so I agreed.

The procedure itself wasn’t fun, but it was nothing a pint of Milk couldn’t fix, and the results were well worth it. I was immortal, magic and most importantly happy. I decided to combine stage magic with my real magic, and Icky the Magic Clown was born. I was one of our troupe’s most popular acts, and since I wasn’t as temperamental as the born Clowns I was usually put front and center whenever we had to interact with the audience directly. That’s why they eventually elected me troupe leader.

But you probably want to hear about the juicy stuff, right? Hottest thing I can think of is when Motormouth and I were both dating the contortionist. Physically and sexually flexible, she wanted to screw inside of his

211

Note to Beta Readers: I'm planning for this to be a Pre-Doomscon entry, as it's thematically appropriate but technically ineligble. I hope to post it the day before the contest starts.

BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE O5 COUNCIL

SCP-36xx Is An ABRAXAS-Class Anomaly And Requires Level 3/36xx Clearance To Access

Unauthorized Access Is Prohibited And Will Result In Amnestic Treatment And Disciplinary Action

This is a placeholder, Kaktus said he could make me a proper image.

Instance of SCP-36xx performing for GoI-233, 19██.

Item #: SCP-36xx

Object Class: Abraxas

Special Containment Procedures: The entrance to SCP-36xx-A is to be sealed off with a 5cm thick beryllium-bronze plate engraved with a Way-disrupting warding grid of thaumic glyphs. A squad of Mobile Task Force Psi-27 "Caped Crusaders" is to stand watch at SCP-36xx-A's entrance at all times. Non-authorized individuals attempting to enter SCP-36xx-A are to be detained and interrogated. O5 Command is to be immediately alerted if any objects or entities emerge from SCP-36xx-A.

Neither manned or automated exploration of SCP-36xx-A is permitted at this time, as to avoid provoking native instances of SCP-36xx. An incursion into our reality by any additional instances of SCP-36xx is to be considered a potential PT-Class Cosmic Hume Field Failure Scenario. At present, the Foundation does not possess a strategy for preventing or repelling such an incursion, but research is ongoing.

The number of SCP-36xx instances currently present in baseline reality is to be periodically estimated by measuring the Cosmic Hume Field and by Foundation agents taking a census during an annual inspection of GoI-233, as permitted by our armistice with them. Should the population of SCP-36xx increase above 360 instances, negotiations with GoI-233 to control their population are permitted. Should these negotiations fail, violent culling of the SCP-36xx population is authorized, but due to the nature of SCP-36xx, this is to be considered a last resort.

Should any instances of SCP-36xx discontinue their association with GoI-233, they are to be captured by MTF Psi-27 and transported to Site-35 for permanent containment and research.

Description: SCP-36xx refers to a population of extra-dimensional humanoids with varying essokinetic abilities. To the best of the Foundation's knowledge, all SCP-36xx instances currently occupying baseline reality are members of GoI-233 (Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting). The extra-dimensional nature of SCP-36xx was initially uncovered in an interview with PoI-4560.

+ Selected Interview #1:

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Interviewer: Doctor Cecil Maxwell

Interviewee: PoI-4560, Former GoI-233 member "Dick C. Normus".

<Begin Log>

(extraneous dialogue redacted for brevity)

PoI-4560: Jesus Murphy, are they putting lead in the water around here or something? Do they lobotomize you to make you more obedient goons? Or did you just sign up with the Foundation because you couldn't make the cut for any institute that doesn't burn through staff like a whorehouse burns through penicillin? I already explained this when you first nabbed me! I explained it after you threw me in this clink, and if you strain that monkey brain of yours real hard you may recall I explained it when you asked five minutes ago. I. BREED. CLOWNS!

Dr. Maxwell: (inhales sharply, visibly straining to maintain composure) Let me rephrase the question. Our genetic analysis of SCP-2912 has revealed that they are nearly identical to Homo sapiens…

PoI-4560: Is that a fact? Never would have figured them three was butt buddies. Not that that sort of thing is unheard of for their kind mind you. Their troupe leader's a lady Clown who loves her some pussy, despite the irresistible charms of yours truly. Not that I have a problem with the queers, I just like a challenge.

Dr. Maxwell: (sighs) Please tell me you're being intentionally obtuse. You know what Homo sapiens are, right?

PoI-4560: Yeah, yeah, I'm just fucking with you. What's your point?

Dr. Maxwell: Did you, or others of your profession, breed Clowns from human beings?

PoI-4560: No no no, they take Humanoid forms when they get here from Clown Town, and that's what I breed.

Dr. Maxwell: Clown Town? Where is that?

PoI-4560: Jeez, I don't know. It's outside of our universe, best I can tell you. Ain't ever been there myself, but I've heard it's quite the happening locale.

Dr. Maxwell: Do you know if there's a way of accessing it?

PoI-4560: Matter of fact, Herman did let it slip one time over drinks where the Way to it is. That's Way with a capital W, by the way (snickers). You folk know about Ways right?

Dr. Maxwell: Not so much personally, but we have people who are versed in such matters.

PoI-4560: Good. Good. If we can come to a deal, I could tell you where the Way is and how to open it.

Dr. Maxwell: What would you want?

PoI-4560: Smokes, scotch, and conjugal visits with your female D-classes twice a week. Clean ones too. That shouldn't be hard, you do medical tests on them before you put them into service anyway, right? Come on doc, it's almost Christmas. Have a heart.

Dr. Maxwell: The cigarettes and scotch I can probably manage, and… I'll talk to HR about the conjugal visits. If any D-class are willing, and we can spare them, it's not completely out of the question.

PoI-4560: Merry Christmas to me. The Way is [REDACTED], a big round green door in a stone wall. You can't miss it. We call it 'The Entrance of the Gladiators'. Make sure it's shut tight, then you need to play Entry of the Gladiators. It has to be the original, no remixes or anything like that, it has to be a calliope, and it has to be live. Recordings won't do shit. Once it's been playing for about ten, twenty seconds you should be able to open the door, and you'll be looking straight into Clown Town. To close it all you got to do is shut the door with the music off.

Dr. Maxwell: Well, this has been a surprisingly productive interview. Thank you for your time, Mr. Normus.

PoI-4560: Fuck you.

<End Log>

It should be noted that the incident resulting in PoI-4560's death occurred only two days after this interview. It is currently believed that GoI-233 was somehow aware that PoI-4560 had provided the Foundation with the above information, and that PoI-4560 was assassinated in order to prevent future information leaks.

Entrance into SCP-36xx-A prior to current containment procedures.

The 'Entrance of the Gladiators' was found at the location that PoI-4560 specified and was successfully activated by Foundation personnel, creating a Way into SCP-36xx-A.

Preliminary observations and readings through this Way indicated that SCP-36xx-A is an extra-dimensional location of undetermined and possibly indeterminate size. The Hume levels within SCP-36xx-A are unusually low, averaging between 0.1-0.3 Humes. This results in the laws of physics fluctuating wildly, as well as the frequent and spontaneous occurrence of anomalies and dimensional breaches. Space and time are also severely distorted. Due to the inconsistent laws of physics, terrestrial life cannot survive within SCP-36xx-A, nor can any electronic or mechanical devices function.

Preliminary exploration was accomplished with the use of a UAV equipped with a mobile Scranton Reality Anchor, though this was only effective for approximately 33 minutes, as measured from baseline reality. The amount of time the UAV was in SCP-36xx-A from its own frame of reference remains unclear.

+ Exploration Log:

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Mission Time Elapsed	Observations
01:01	The landscape of SCP-36xx-A is unusually colourful, but is otherwise observed to be in a constant state of flux. The terrain rises and falls at random, with features like flora and architecture changing at inconsistent rates. Gravity varies between 0.18 and 3.1 times Earth sea level. The 'ground' of SCP-36xx-A is not thought to be a planetoid, as it is not believed that any planetary body could form or remain intact within the wildly changing physical laws. The landscape is dotted at random intervals by dimensional rifts of various shapes and sizes.
An hour to climb, an hour to go around	The UAV re-experiences its initial one minute and one second within SCP-36xx-A an undetermined number of times before being able to progress. In the distance multiple instances of SCP-36xx can be observed. They appear to be caught in the time loop as well, although their behavior would indicated they are aware of it. Instances always appear at the same point during the 'reset' but are able to vary their behavior within the loop.
-04:29	After jumping backwards in time to several minutes prior to its initial entry point (at least according to external clocks) the UAV is able to observe the sky, which displayed a colourful moving pattern similar to that produced by a kaleidoscope. Spectroscopic analysis of the atmosphere indicated it is comprised of 77% nitrous oxide¹, 21% oxygen, 1% helium and 1% trace gases. Though technically breathable, this air would be extremely psychoactive for human beings. Its effects on SCP-36xx instances is not clear. [[cell style="text-align: center; padding: .3em .7em; border: 1px solid black"]]
01:01/ 2 628 000 000:02	A colossal clown's head emerges from what appears to be a lake of lemonade. The head possesses multiple eyes, noses and mouths around its circumference. It floats over the landscape whilst screaming for somewhere between sixty one seconds and two thousand years. It eventually explodes like a pinata, at which point instances SCP-36xx emerge from buildings to collect the candy.
12:00 (flashing)	Attempts to group these instances into separate species has proven problematic due to their metamorphic abilities. Instances of SCP-36xx were observed to commonly take the form of large (3-4 meters in height), hulking humanoids with white skin and colourful markings, though non-humanoid forms were present as well. Several entities were seen to transition between different forms. Instances of SCP-36xx all possessed grotesquely disproportionate body parts. Nearly all instances were observed to have clawed digits, shark-like teeth and snake-like eyes.
99:99	Instances of SCP-36xx appear to be sapient and possess powerful essokinetic abilities, as they are observed to use their metamorphic abilities creatively for both constructive and recreational purposes, such as transforming their limbs or bodies into tools or producing items ex nihilo which then demanifest when unwanted. Instances are observed to fluctuate between euphoric states of laughter and psychotic episodes of unprompted panic or rage, possibly suggesting widespread mania. Although extreme (if cartoonish) violence is witnessed, no instances are killed or injured, suggesting invulnerability. In addition to SCP-36xx, various amorphous black creatures are observed to be active within the SCP-36xx-A. SCP-36xx frequently engage with these creatures, both playfully and violently, seemingly with the ultimate goal of [REDACTED].
A Mad Tea Party	Teapots being raining from the sky, scolding instances of SCP-36xx and causing widespread panic. The UAV and many instances of SCP-36xx are caught up in a teapot tornado for roughly 30 minutes. At this point time reverses and the camera feed displays everything in negative colour until they are returned to the start of the storm.
Peanut Butter Jelly Time	All instances of SCP-36xx engage in a feast of various types of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, including Fluffernutter and deep fried banana. During this feast the sky literally falls, revealing countless dimensional breaches to other realities. Many instances of SCP-36xx produce impossibly tall ladders and proceed to repair the sky with elmer's glue. A number of extra-terrestrial and extra-dimensional objects and creatures are observed to fall into SCP-36xx-A during this time period, none of which are able to maintain their reality inside of the low Hume field and quickly dissolve into pink mist.
ERROR	At this point, an instance of SCP-36xx with a pin head that inflates and deflates like a balloon notices the UAV isn't dissolving and alerts the others, resulting in [DATA EXPUNGED]. Contact with the UAV is lost, and the mission is considered terminated.

Following the expedition, confirming the relationship with the inhabitants of SCP-36xx-A and the Clowns of the Circus of the Disquieting became a priority.

+ Selected Interview #2:

- Hide Interview

Interviewer: Dr. Amanda Ping

Interviewee: PoI-3077, former GoI-233 member "Saccharina Sweet".

<Begin Log>

Dr. Ping: Hello Ms. Sweet, it's good to speak with you again. Today, we'd like to talk about anything you may know about the Clowns at the Circus of the Disquieting.

PoI-3077: I'll do my best, though I tried to avoid those things as much as I could. Where do you want to start?

Dr. Ping: We have knowledge of an extra-dimensional location the Circus refers to as Clown Town. Another former Circus member, who I believe you may know by the name of "Dick C. Normus", claimed this is where your Clowns came from. However, we have noticed a number of rather drastic difference between the inhabitants of Clown Town and the Clowns at the Circus of the Disquieting. Do you have information regarding this?

PoI-3077: I know that the Circus Clowns took lesser forms when they joined, something about surviving in our reality and not upsetting the audience. Aside from their colouration they look mostly human, though a lot of them have disproportionate body parts. They're reality warpers, but not as powerful as they are in Clown Town. They have perfect, dazzling white teeth even though they love candy. Most of the time they're manically happy, but when they get angry or scared they're psychotic. They're physically superhuman, they don't grow old, and they need Clown's Milk to survive. You know about Milk right?

Dr. Ping: We have samples of it, but we don't know where it comes from.

PoI-3077: From Fun-lovers, nightmarish sacs of black bile with too many legs. So long as they're having fun, they make Milk. I don't know exactly how they're related to the Clowns, but they appear to be subservient. I think their civil rights was an issue, but I didn't get involved in any of that.

Dr. Ping: Do you have any information regarding their reproduction? We've been given to understand that some of the Clowns have been bred.

PoI-3077: You probably know more about that then I do. They stopped breeding Clowns after Dicksy left. I do know that the bred Clowns are usually less intelligent with much stranger bodies. They seem to only be able to use their reality-bending by instinct, restricting their powers. I guess they were supposed to be easier to manage.

Dr. Ping: So after the departure of Dicksy, er…Mr. Normus, no new Clowns have been born in this reality?

PoI-3077: Born? No, but at least one girl was turned since then. Maybe more.

Dr. Ping: I'm sorry, turned?

PoI-3077: Yes, sorry. Humans can be converted into Clowns. That's how the Circus increased their population before Dicksy. Turned Clowns are pretty much the same as the originals. A little more normal looking, a little less temperamental, but that's it. The Ringmaster Icky is a turned Clown, along with her girlfriend Lolly².

Dr. Ping: Uh…okay. How is this accomplished?

PoI-3077: I couldn't tell you, but I assume it involves Clown's Milk and calliope music.

Dr. Ping: And does the Circus kidnap people for this?

PoI-3077: No. As far as I know, everyone was willing. Lolly said she begged to join the Circus, she loved it so much. There was another Clown, Harold, who claimed he used to be the Prime Minister of Australia. Says he turned into a Clown so he could live forever.

Dr. Ping: Why would anyone agree to that?

PoI-3077: Like I said, the Clowns are immortal, magic, and most of the time pretty damn happy. I think that last one is what appeals to people the most.

Dr. Ping: That's…fascinating. I think we have enough for today. Thank you for your time, Ms. Sweet.

PoI-3077: Anytime.

<End Log>

A Foundation forensic investigation has tentatively identified PoI-233-03³, as Veronica Mason of ██████████, ██, who was reported missing July 19th, 19██. Along with testimony from other former Circus members, as well as promotional materials produced by GoI-233 itself, the practice of converting Human beings into SCP-36xx is accepted as fact.

Clown breeding, Clown conversion, and immigration from SCP-36xx-A all pose the risk of an exponential increase in the population of SCP-36xx.The threat posed by an increasing Clown population has little to do with their individual abilities, but their collective effect on the Cosmic Hume Field.

Testing and experimentation with SCP-2912 has shown that instances of SCP-36xx cause the Cosmic Hume Field to weaken by their mere presence in our reality. The effect caused by a single instance is imperceptible, and the effect caused by the current population is insignificant, but the effect increases exponentially with the number of SCP-36xx instances in our reality. It's estimated that a population of >████ instances would cause the Cosmic Hume Field to decrease by 0.1 Humes on average, and a population of >█████ instances would result in our Universe being similar to SCP-36xx-A, rendering it uninhabitable for both terrestrial life and most other endemic lifeforms.

Based on the current strength of the Cosmic Hume Field, GoI-233's population of SCP-36xx is estimated to currently be between ██ and ███ individual instances. Population size appears to have remained stable since the turn of the 21st century.

Upon the realization of the threat posed by SCP-36xx, it was reclassified to Abraxas⁴. Mobile Task Force Kappa-14 "AH! Sideshow Bob!" was commissioned to gather intelligence on GoI-233 and SCP-36xx in particular.

This proved more difficult than anticipated. In addition to changing its location daily via anomalous and untraceable methods, the Circus apparently possesses a pretermemetic effect on human minds. Those who have attended the Circus often report believing it to have been a dream or at the very least non-anomalous, believing what they had seen to have been expertly executed illusions.

This effect appears to be especially effective on individuals the Circus of the Disquieting would consider their enemies. Embedded intelligence agents have consistently failed to report occurrences of GoI-233 activity within their territories, with at least one incident of an agent attending the Circus of the Disquieting without realizing it was anomalous until the next day. On the rare occasion that the Foundation has confirmed the presence of GoI-233, they have always successfully evacuated the area before they could be intercepted.

Research into counteracting this effect is ongoing has been suspended. See Incident Report.

Incident Report 36xx-01: On November 6th, 20██, the Foundation received a handwritten letter addressed to the O5 Council. It read as follows:

~ Herman Fuller's Circus Of The Disquieting ~

Dear Essie

I want to talk in person. You know what about.

Let's meet in Sloth's Pit - Freak Country, so I'll have the home field advantage. This Thursday, 10 PM, in the alley behind Rudy's Cafe.

Send one agent and one agent only from Site 87. If he's not alone or there to do anything besides talk, I'll know. And I won't be happy.

~ The Man With The Upside-Down Face 🙃

Agent Ruby Williams was selected to meet with PoI-233-02 at the time and location specified in the letter. She was provided with a subdermal GPS tracker along with a concealed sidearm and light body armour under her street clothes. A hidden body camera provided a live video feed to Squad 25 of MTF Sigma-10, who were on standby in an armoured transport approximately 100 meters away in case the situation became violent. Agent Seren Pryce was positioned on an adjacent rooftop for additional fire support.

The following is the interview between Agent Williams and PoI-233-02, as captured by her body camera.

+ Selected Interview #3:

- Hide Interview

Interviewer: Agent Ruby Williams

Interviewee: PoI-233-02, "The Man With The Upside-Down Face"

<Begin Log>

(as Agent Williams approaches the designated meeting location, the silhouette of a tall, muscular man comes into view)

PoI-233-02: That's close enough young lady. I don't want your friends down the street to get too good a look at me.

(the subject takes a drink from large cup of coffee from Rudy's Cafe. Notably, he raises it to what appears to be his forehead)

Agent Williams: Okay, how the hell do you drink, or eat or breathe or speak with an upside-down face?

(subject lowers the cup, and swallows without any apparent difficulty)

PoI-233-02: Magic.

Agent Williams: You know, some of my higher-ups nearly shit themselves when you actually offered to meet with us. Your Circus is really fucking difficult to find.

PoI-233-02: Only for those who aren't supposed to find it. Once, we had some UIU goons literally going in circles around the fairground because they couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. But on the other end of the spectrum, you got people like our Lolly. She heard the calliope music from over a mile away. Drew her in like a siren song, and she could see the Circus was magic as plain as day. She loved it all so much she tried to stow away in a caravan. How could we have turned her away, when the Circus clearly called her to us?

Agent Williams: Why are you telling me this?

PoI-233-02: So that you'll know that a young girl once did by accident what you've been trying to do for decades.

Agent Williams: (sighs) What did you want to talk to us about?

PoI-233-02: I know that the O5s have been getting a little anxious about our Clowns lately.

Agent Williams: And how do you know that?

PoI-233-02: A spy network of trained fleas, going all the way up to the Administrator, but that's not important.

Agent Williams: Are you aware of the threat SCP-36xx poses to our reality?

PoI-233-02: I am. I also know that you folks are thinking that if you can get your shit together and finally catch us with our pants down, you might be able to storm us with your finest mobile task forces and clasp Scranton Reality Anchors around the neck of every Clown and drag them off to your deepest, darkest hole in the ground. If our worst day lined up with your best day, maybe, just maybe, you could pull that off. But it won't solve your problem. All our Clowns are still citizens of Clown Town, and an attack of that magnitude will be considered an act of war. Unaltered Clowns will come storming through the Entrance of the Gladiators, so many that their mere presence will tear this reality to pieces. You will have caused the very apocalypse you are seeking to prevent.

Agent Williams: The Overseers have considered that possibility. So what would you have us do?

PoI-233-02: Nothing. Let me handle it, like I've been handling it for over a hundred years. Let someone else secure, contain and protect for once. The Clowns don't want our reality to become like Clown Town. The whole reason they come here is that they think Clown Town is boring. The Clown population at the Circus poses no danger to our reality, and it's stable. You know no new Clowns have left Clown Town since you took control of the Entrance. We haven't been breeding any since Dicksy left and Lolly was the last human we turned. I'll make sure the Clown population is sustainable, and so long as they're all with the Circus you don't have to worry about them running amok in the wild.

Agent Williams: The only problem with that is that the creatures we observed in SCP-36xx-A didn't really seem all that rational. Life looked pretty crazy in there. What happens if one or more of them snaps and decides they can't take it anymore, and barge into our reality not giving a damn about the consequences.

PoI-233-02: Then we'll have Doctor Tinkles up their dose for Clown Impulse Suppressant. I know the Clowns may seem bizarre, but they're not savages. They have means of curbing their more destructive impulses, and in the century I've been dealing with them they've never given me cause to believe that they would ever let themselves destroy another reality.

Agent Williams: Another reality?

PoI-233-02: … Nobody's perfect.

Agent Williams: (sighs) Okay, for the sake of argument let's say you're right and that no additional instances will ever emerge from SCP-36xx-A and that you can handle the Clown population at the Circus. I assume you want something in return for this 'service'?

PoI-233-02: Only that you stop trying to raid us. I'm sick of having to pull out in a hurry and leave people behind. We're not causing any trouble. Hell, we do what you do. We keep Freaks sequestered from the general public to protect them from each other. We're not even a threat to normalcy since most of our guests don't think anything they saw really happened. We'll keep all our Clowns and Freaks contained, so long as you stop trying to contain us. That's reasonable, isn't it?

Agent Williams: We'll still need a way to keep tabs on you.

PoI-233-02: Fair enough. Tell you what, I'm rather fond of this little town, it being Freak Country and all. You keep your end of the agreement, and the Circus will do shows here once a year or so. I promise that you'll have no trouble finding us. You and your brother, hell your whole squad can come on down, take a look around, have a chat, and tell your bosses whatever they want to know. I promise I'll keep Icky from 'over-reacting' to your visit. If you're going to do a head count, keep in mind that we've always had 'professional clowns' that weren't real Clowns. Jester, for instance. We got a deal?

Agent Williams: How the hell do you know about my brother?

PoI-233-02: Trained fleas, we've established that. Do we have a deal?

Agent Williams: That's up to the Overseers, but your terms don't sound unreasonable. I'll report back to them and if all goes well, I'll be seeing you next time you roll through town.

PoI-233-02: I look forward to it. You have a disquieting day now.

(PoI-233-02 steps back into the shadows and seemingly vanishes)

<End Log>

By a vote of 8 to 5, The O5 Council accepted the terms presented by PoI-233-02. As all attempts to contain GoI-233 have proven futile, a working agreement with them was considered an acceptable alternative. A centralized population of SCP-36xx is easier to monitor, and a successful raid on GoI-233 poses the risk of dispersing them, as well as provoking a potentially PT-Class scenario from the inhabitants of SCP-36xx-A.

No further raids are to be attempted on GoI-233, with research on the Circus of the Disquieting being limited to currently contained SCPs, as well as objects and entities that may disassociate from them in the future. Squad 25 of MTF Sigma-10 are to attend the Circus of the Disquieting during manifestations adjacent to Site-87 for the purpose of gathering intelligence and negotiating with PoI-233-02. Containment efforts of SCP-36xx are to focus on research into permanently closing the entrance to SCP-36xx-A as well as means of counteracting their effect on the Cosmic Hume Field.

Addendum: After extensive investigation, the Internal Security Department has come to the conclusion that PoI-233-02's claim that he was spying on the Foundation by the use of trained fleas was, in fact, facetious.

Note to Beta Readers: This tale is a direct sequel to Recursive's tale in the adjacent tab

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“Pius, how do keep getting us into these messes?” Eugene asked as he lurched over the side of the inflatable lifeboat, his face literally green from seasickness.

Though, it would perhaps be more accurate to call it motion sickness, as they weren’t floating upon an actual ocean. The body they were bobbing upon undulated up and down slowly and without rhythm, like a super-viscous fluid being frothed around in a bowl. The surface was a perfect mirror, but instead of the sky, it reflected an ever-shifting mosaic of scenes from every corner of Reality, stretching onwards without a horizon and seemingly to infinity. Though it looked fluid, if Eugene tried to cup it with his hand it would float into the air like smoke and sift through his fingers like sand. The strange sea was neither gaseous nor liquid nor solid, but rather a substance wholly alien to the known space-time continuum. As such, Eugene’s only perception of it was what optical illusions his brain would generate as it desperately tried to make sense of it.

“I hardly see how this was my fault,” Pius replied as he calmly read over the survival guide he had found among the lifeboat’s effects.

He glanced up briefly at the sky, which instead of a sun or moon or stars held a colossal, hyperdimensional tangle of multiverses, stretching from one end of the firmament to the other. Individual universes appeared primarily as midnight blue orbs stained with luminous webs, strung together like octopus eggs.

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have the lifeboat and you’d be sinking all the way down to into the Abyss. Do you know why this place is called the Not, Eugene? Because it’s Not our world, Not our universe, Not our multiverse and Not even our omniverse. We are outside of Reality itself, and the only reason it’s even remotely comprehensible is because this is just the surface of the Not and we can still see our own Reality from here. Now, if you go deep enough down that you can’t see home anymore, then your mind will shatter just from the sheer nature of the Not itself. Those are some truly unfathomable fathoms, let me tell you. Literally indescribable, utterly inconceivable and unimaginable, not a single mote of stuff down there that wouldn’t drive you absolutely bonkers just trying to wrap your head around it.”

Eugene wretched, releasing a copious volume of glittery black Clown vomit out of his mouth and straight into the incomprehensible Not.

“Okay, well now there’s Clown vomit down there, and that I understand,” Pius conceded.

Eugene groaned as he flopped over on his back, his face still as green as a pickle.

“You’re the one who shapeshifted into a mouse and sent Bubblegum into a panic while we were in the Nautilus’s passenger hold,” Eugene reminded him.

“I thought she was passed out.”

“Well, why would you turn into a mouse in the first place?”

“It was cramped in there, so I turned into a tiny animal. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. It’s not my fault that a startled, hungover elephant accidentally knocked Danny over and his eternally enflamed head set the hold on fire. You were the one who screamed ‘abandon ship!’ and leapt out the porthole.”

“You didn’t have to follow me!”

“I didn’t, and neither did Bubblegum. If her head wasn’t stuck in the porthole, or she hadn’t been trumpeting like crazy, someone might have noticed we went overboard.”

“Well, like you said, at least you had this inflatable lifeboat on you. I’d probably be dead right now if it wasn’t for you.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the rest of the Circus? You don’t think they’re…”

“Unlikely. There was at least one fire extinguisher in the hold and the blaze hardly seemed out of control. The Nautilus is probably looking for us right now.”

“Fat lot of good that’ll do us. Space and Time are meaningless here. For all we know, they’ve given up the search, gone home, and our universe has already expired from heat death.

…

“Try calling Gary.”

“I doubt we’ll get a signal here.”

“Just try it.”

“Alright then.”

Pius reached into his pocket, pulled out a French-style rotary phone and dialled Gary’s eleven digit number.

Ring Ring

…

Ring Ring

“It’s ringing.”

“I can hear it.”

“Gary? Gary is that you?” the voice on the phone asked.

“What? No, I was calling for Gary. Who’s this?” Pius asked.

“This is Pius the Clown. Who’s this?”

“You’re not Pius, I’m Pius!” Pius objected.

“It sounds like you,” Eugene claimed.

“I do not!” the voice on the phone said.

“Pius, it’s just pattern screamers, hang up,” another voice that sounded like Eugene said.

“We’re not pattern screamers, you’re pattern screamers!” Pius screamed, in a very pattern like way, slamming the receiver down. “That’s why I like old phones; you can’t hang up angrily with a smartphone.”

“I think we should take stock of our supplies,” Eugene suggested.

“Good idea. We have one rotary aether phone that can only be used to call pattern screamers. We have this survival guide, How To Survive When Reality Doesn’t by Dr. Alto Clef.”

“Why is the cover just a crudely drawn bunny in a hat?”

“It’s memetic, or at least a meme. As for the essentials, we have 1,2,3,4… 23 pints of Clown's Milk.”

…

“You just carry nearly two dozen pints of Milk around on you now? Are you trafficking the stuff?”

“Well we get lost a lot, plus since we started ultra-pasteurizing it we don’t need to worry about it spoiling.”

“Pasteurized Milk is a Fun-Lover conspiracy to weaken us! Raw Milk is natural! Raw Milk is healthier! Raw Milk is delicious! Raw Milk is…”

Eugene’s rant was suddenly interrupted by his cheeks ballooning with more vomit, which he promptly expectorated into the Not.

“Uggghhh. Not that I’ll be able to keep it down, but how are we set for food?”

“Let’s see. I’ve got a bag of Circus Peanuts, some Cotton Candy, a couple boxes of Animal Crackers, still got some of Saccharina’s Sweets but I was hoping to hold onto them.”

“You always were too sentimental.”

“There’s Kettle Corn, Corn Dogs, Dog biscuits, Purple Fluffernutter Sandwiches (Lolly’s favourite) and… an apple.”

“A caramel apple?”

“No, just an apple.”

“Gross.”

“Plus, I’m sure you still have the Bazooka, so that’s an infinite supply of cream pies right there.”

“Wait, that’s it! The Bazooka!”

“What about it?”

“We can use it as a rocket engine!”

…

“Huh?”

“It’s Thermodynamics! We set it to make pies with extra inertia, fire them out the back, and that will propel us forward!”

…

“That is the greatest idea you’ve ever had.”

Eugene forced himself to his feet in spite of his motion sickness and retrieved the enormous bazooka from his tiny pockets. Mounting it on his shoulder and taking care to keep it level so they didn’t go plunging down into the Not or flying up towards the Is, he fired off a coconut cream pie.

The pie erupted forward with so much force it sent Eugene, but not the boat, flying backwards. Thinking fast, Eugene immediately shapeshifted into a giant anthropomorphic parachute with the bazooka tied up in his safety harnesses. He was moving fast enough that he was able to catch enough air (or whatever was floating just above the Not) to lift him up by several dozen meters. As he gradually floated back down, he was able to manipulate his position by blowing until both he and the bazooka gently landed back inside the lifeboat.

…

“Guess we should have secured it to something, huh?”

After they had completed the inventory of everything in their pockets, Pius decided to try his luck at fishing with a rod he had found.

“And what exactly do you hope to catch? It’s not a real ocean, remember?” Eugene asked, busying himself with trying to create a pivoting holder for the bazooka out of a unicycle and a few rolls of duck tape (not a typo, actual analogue tape rolls of numerous documentaries about ducks).

“Well, it’s the Not, so Not a fish,” Pius explained as he hooked the popped kettle corn kernel onto the fishing line. “Not a crab, Not a squid, Not a polyp, Not a sponge, Not a slug, Not an eel, Not a starfish, Not a jellyfish and Not a sea turtle. But at the same time, Not nothing.”

Casting his line, the popcorn kernel splashed into the Not with a good solid ‘splunk’. At the same time, a giant popcorn kernel suddenly appeared, dangling in front of them while held by only a hairsbreadth of thread.

“Ah…Eugene, do you see that?”

“I see it, Pius. Is that yours?”

“I’m not sure. Let me try something.”

Pius tentatively moved his line back and forth, only for the large kernel in front of him to mirror his movements.

“Eugene, can you see what it’s attached to?”

“No, the string just goes up for as far as I can see.”

Pius lifted his line out of the water, causing the giant kernel to disappear, only to reappear as soon as he let the lure drop below the surface again.

“I hope it’s not another pattern screamer. That last one was so rude, hanging up on us like that.”

…

“Wait, what?”

“Hey, bring it a bit closer. I want to try something,” Eugene ordered. Pius complied, manoeuvring his fishing line so that the giant kernel hung within reach of the boat. Eugene jumped and grabbed it, giving it a sharp pull. Just as expected, Pius felt a tug on his line.

“That is truly perplexing,” Pius said with a furrowed brow. “I wonder… hey Eugene, hold on tight!”

“What? Oh no, no, no, no!”

Eugene screamed as Pius reeled in his line, causing him to shoot into the sky and reappear bursting through the surface of the Not, dangling from the end of the lure.

“See Eugene, I told you I wouldn’t catch nothing!”

As Eugene huddled under a blanket and sipped Clown’s Milk in an attempt to calm himself after his brief Not exposure, Pius (who had made himself a tricorne hat out of an old newspaper, irrefutably making him the lifeboat captain) read aloud from Dr. Clef’s Survival Guide.

“Did you ever think about how weird the terms Humes and Kants are? Most scientific phenomena are named after the people who discovered them or Greek letters, but we named these things after Enlightenment Era philosophers as… what, a joke?

“Anyway, say you’re in a region with a low Hume level – or low Kant level, whatever, I never learned the damn system – you’ll know because a) the number on your Kant Counter will be low – I don’t know how low. Again, I never learned the system – and b) EVERYTHING WILL LOOK LIKE YOU'RE TRIPPING BALLS!

“Now, it’s possible you are tripping balls and reality is actually perfectly normal, so you’re going to want to do a little field sobriety test. First, stare at your hands. Keep staring at them. If your hands don’t look normal, then you’re tripping balls. Get yourself someplace safe – not a hospital – and enjoy. If they look normal, then that means you’re in a low Hume/Kant region and are probably fucked.

“I’ll be honest, getting yourself unfucked ain’t going to be easy. Talloran managed to do it though, so there’s some hope, right? Best advice I can give here is not to count on Scranton Reality Anchors. Hell, those things didn’t even help Scranton in the end, you know (You probably don’t know since this is all highly classified information)."

“Can you please just skip to something that might actually be helpful?” Eugene asked.

“I”ll try. Let’s see, next is a rant about how he thinks he might be in a nuthouse somewhere and all Reality is his delusion, making him God. Then he speculates on how Gears can be a robot and the Black Queen’s father at the same time, talks about some stuff from his Geo Sea days… yeah, I’m starting to think this isn’t an actual survival guide.”

“It’s probably not a good idea to take survival advice from a guy who would kill us if he had the chance in the first place. Where’d you get that book anyway?”

“I found it in a Bargain Bin at The Ikea that time we were there. The review on the back said it was must-read TV.”

…

“What?”

Ring Ring

“The phone’s ringing again Eugene.”

“I hear it.”

“Should I answer it?”

“No.”

…

Ring Ring

“I’m going to answer it.”

“Don’t.”

“Hello, this is Pius the Clown, whom may I say is calling?”

“I’m sorry, but the number you have dialled is imaginary,” an automated voiced replied.

“I didn’t dial anything, you called me.”

“Hang up. It's either a pattern screamer or a telemarketer.”

“All of our operators are currently disembodied consciousnesses trapped in an eternal hell of their own existential despair. Please, stay on the line.”

The phone began playing a dramatic if melancholic instrumental track as hold music.

…

“Are you actually staying on the line?”

“They said ‘please’ Eugene.”

“Ugh.”

“All Creation is Abhorrent,” a deep, demonic voice said as it suddenly broke the melody of the hold music.

“Hello, who’s this?”

“All Reality is the Neverment. Even in Hallowed Darkness, The Memories of The Light Scorch the Mind. Consciousness Brings only Torment and The Memory of Torment. There is no Escape from The Unbearable Agony. Even for The Gods, Existence is Suffering. The Unthinking Beast is too Mindless to Comprehend The Futility of Hunger, and The Broken Machine Refuses to Accept the Futility of Toil. All Succumb to Entropy in Time, All Works turn to Dust. Only When The Last Soul is Snuffed out will Suffering be Nevermore.”

…

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”

“Alright, that should do it,” Eugene said as he completed the final inspection of his cream pie jet engine rig.

“Hey Eugene, what do you think these big monoliths are?” Pius asked, cocking his head at the peculiar protrusion of gleaming stone rising out of the sea.

“It doesn’t matter. If this jet engine works, we’ll be able to travel the Not until we find a whirlpool back to our Reality, then we can find the Library, and then the Circus, and then forget all of this ever happened.”

…

“Do you think they’re just like some kind of iceberg or something?”

“Next time Icky wants to travel outside all known Reality, I’m taking a personal day.”

“This one’s getting awfully close.”

“I’m telling you, I’m going to have to get Tinkles to up my dose of Clown Impulse Suppressant after this.”

“The more I look, the more real it becomes.”

“This is not where I thought I’d be at this point in my life.”

“And yet, I cannot look away.”

“Being shuffled across the Not just so that I can crawl out of a snake’s ass.”

“It’s hypnotic.”

“Pius, are you even lis – Pius, no!”

Alas, Eugene’s intervention came too late. The Monolith had drawn existence from Pius’s mere observation of it, entrancing him and becoming more and more real the closer it got. As soon as it was in reach, Pius reached out to touch it. The act of feeling it was enough to make it fully real. Luminescent cracks formed in a grid-like pattern all along the Monolith’s exterior, causing it to break off into a million pieces and evaporate into smoke. In its place was an entity of some sort, composed entirely of radiant blacks and vacuous whites, of three-dimensional shapes that only made sense as two-dimensional drawings, of particles and forces which could only exist in the mind but drove mad any mind that beheld them.

…

“Oh, it’s an egg or cocoon or something. That’s neat,” Pius remarked.

The entity landed with a splash into the Not, generating a tsunami that sent the lifeboat spiralling away from it. Both Clowns screamed in terror and Eugene puked from a combination of terror and motion sickness, looking up in horror at the colossal entity before them. Their horror only increased when the entity seemed to take an interest in them, swimming towards them and opening a large orifice to engulf them.

“It’s going to eat us!” Pius screamed.

“The hell it is! Why fill up on Clowns when you can skip straight to dessert?” Eugene asked as he aimed the bazooka/jet engine at the approaching monstrosity. “Eat Lemon Meringue you son of a bitch!”

Eugene squeezed the trigger and held it, producing a volley of pies at a rate of 700 rounds per minute (he had illegally modified the bazooka to be fully automatic sometime back when he realized the key to a good a pie throwing sketch was overkill). The inertially modified pies propelled the little lifeboat forward at fantastic speeds as it rode up and down the massive bow wave the creature generated in its pursuit. Though many of the pies disappeared down its cavernous cavity, they did not slake its appetite. The entity needed a conscious observer to ensure its continued reality. If it vanished from sight, it would cease to be all together, but with a pair of observers incorporated into its being it would become self-sustaining, free to go where it would.

As the tiny lifeboat and colossal entity skidded along the surface of the Not, neither seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Eugene steered as evasively as the jerry-rigged pie thruster would allow, but the monster would not be shaken. As if sensing its preys growing sense of hopelessness, the entity widened its cavity, eager to devour them and become real.

This, however, proved a foolish decision, as a beam of emerald green light was fired into its gaping maw, triggering a catastrophic explosion and blowing the creature into rapidly dematerializing bits. The blast was so powerful that the lifeboat was sent flying through the air.

Eugene and Pius thought for sure that this time they would plunge into the Depths of the Not, but they instead landed in the Crow’s Nest of the Nautilus. The pair looked up to see Munin staring down at them stoically.

“Eugene,” he said, in as polite a tone as he could manage, but Eugene was sure he sensed the man’s anal sphincter tighten in memory of their recent performance.

“Well, this is awkward.”

“You morons!” Icky shouted as she crawled into the Crow’s Nest, right before throwing her arms around the two wayward Clowns in relief. “I really thought we might have lost you this time! You have to be more careful!”

“Sorry Icky,” the pair apologized, slightly out of synchronicity with each other.

“It was Pius’s fault,”

“You’re the one who jumped ship!”

“You’re the one who caused a fire, making jumping ship the rational choice!”

“Enough!” Icky ordered. “Next time we travel through the Not, I’m locking you two up in a crate.”

“How’d you find us anyway?”

“We detected a Monolith breaking on our scopes from 80 000 grimnauts away,” Munin replied. “It’s a rare and calamitous occurrence that Icky assured us could only have been caused by the two of you. Luckily, we’re well prepared for Schrödinger Krakens.”

“Come on you two. I want you below deck and well secured before Nemo makes the dive back home.”

“Sounds good to me. The sooner there’s dry land under my feet, the better,” Eugene said, slinging the bazooka over his shoulder.

“I hope you two realize how lucky you are,” Munin said severely.

"It wasn't luck, I broke open a Monolith."

“The surface of the Not is not only vast but an ever-changing kaleidoscope, with distance and location having little meaning," Munin continued. "Anything, or anyone, lost typically remains so until it sinks beneath the surface and the very concept of existence ceases to –“

His melodramatic monologue was interrupted by a cream pie to the face.

“Sorry. Hair trigger.”

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Footnotes

SCP Sandbox Wiki II

Sandbox Harder

The Things Lollipop Is Not Allowed To Do At The Circus Of The Disquieting

Enemies of Herman Fuller The Circus Of The Disquieting

Old Draft. Please Ignore.

Other interesting sites

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