#I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: put this in the Sistine Chapel NOW

[ofwraithsandwords]

Giver of the Fruit

Art by @ydteus

[creepweirdo]

i started tgcf again, still struggling tbh but im pushing on! xue yang yi city angst is too much for my weak heart but i’d be down for some happy xue yang recs if you’ve read any! omg i love that you thought so many iconic scenes were made up by fic writers haha that’s amazing. as for cap i always say he has a lot of love to give. you can ship him with anyone tbh, i prefer him with sam but peggy and bucky are all valid! make them poly, idc. i think my proudest moment in the shadowhunters fandom

was when the author blocked me on tumblr lmao she’s such trash the show wasn’t amazing all the time but i love me some bi rep. i love your change to wwx’s parents. imagine that fam is they actually had some self worth. jyl shoving zixun into the bushes. jc and wwx more badass than the twin jades. i mean wwx’s mum went to cloud recesses so she could’ve sent baby wwx to learn still, but i like repressed lwj exploding when he met adult wwx too haha. i think for my change i’d have madam jin kill

jin guangshan as soon as he started womanizing. stop him being power hungry for the stygian tiger seal, removing jiggy (and mxy sorry baby) and a lot of the mess that follows. the jin being against the wen might stop their advance and save gusu/lotus pier as well. house cat is smart! sleeping and eating sounds like me during quarantine. well and pretending to work while watching kpop mvs. as for animals i’d be a mantis shrimp if you don’t know them google mantis shrimp oatmeal and

prepare for their punchy rainbow glory. i aspire to that level of badass! ok q's! which character would you want for your (platonic/romantic) cultivation partner! what place would you want to visit once the world gets back to normal and why? (if you had infinite money/travel options) /your talkative cc! 💜

HAHA hi my talkative classified cultivator!!

omg yes push through! you can do this ahah ❤️

yi city didn’t have to be as heart breaking as it is 💀 i read on the wiki that the yi city plot was a story that mxtx came up with when she was in high school?? and ahhhh imagine that as a fleshed out 400k heartbreaking story 💔 omg happy?? xue yang fics 😳 i’ll see what i can do LMAO i’ll put them at the end

OH MY GOD THAT IS AMAZING! that’s such an achievement!! put that on your resume: blocked on tumblr by cassandra clare (that’s her name right? she doesn’t deserve a google search ❤️)

jc and wwx had so much potential 🥺 they so would have been more badass than the twin jades ahaha!

oooo i like your changes! very smart and gets rid out our bestie’s existence 😼 nice

lmao pretending to work 💀 so true. omg the mantis shrimp!!! i’ve seen that comic 😭 they terrify me! they way that they could kill me instantly 😭😭😭 ahhh very badass and scary 😳

oooo hahaha so for my platonic cultivation partner - even though i said i would like to be from the lan sect, i think i’d want my platonic cultivation partner to be nie huaisang HAHAHA. for the reasons you said a couple of asks ago!! it would be just vibes. chilling all day and gossiping ❤️ life goals. and my romantic cultivation partner 😼 wen qing - i just think she’s neat. she would treat me right LMAO.

omg if i could travel anywhere in the world!!!! and with unlimited money! i would LOVE to do a like 12 month long art/history tour throughout europe 😭 it would be so amazing to see all the iconic classical artworks - especially artworks from the renaissance. i’ve actually been to italy before on a school exchange for like three weeks back in 2017 😁 (i went to a catholic school so the only language offered to learn was italian hahaha). we spent about a week and a half in rome/florence/venice and then spent time with our host families. and omg i would LOVE to go back to florence and see all the galleries 😭 i would love to go back to the sistine chapel bc i feel like i didn’t appreciate al the artwork and historical significance. last year i did a renaissance history unit and i learnt all this cool stuff about the things i saw in italy, but didn’t appreciate it at the same level as i would now 💔

ahaha so yeah i would love to travel all across europe and do detailed tours of all the historical sites and galleries and ahhh it would make me so happy 😭

(next year i’m doing two chinese studies unit and a japanese history unit at uni so i bet my answer to that question next year will be me being like “i want to visit china/japan and see all the historical sites” LMAO)

but a place i wanna go to which i think is possible for me in the near future is tasmania, australia! there’s this really quirky art gallery called the museum and old and new art and i’m pretty sure they have this huge wall of painted vaginas  💀 so yeah i would like to see it ❤️

wow i didn’t mean to talk to much about travel ,,, such a covid mood ahahaha.

lmao who would you want to be your platonic/romantic cultivation partner(s)? and what about travel for you? i’m still not 100% sure WHERE your from ahaha. your asks always come through when i’m asleep so you’re definitely in the northern hemisphere hahaha 🤨🤔🤔 also just did an analysis of some of your previous asks and you spelt favourite as “favourite” (like a normal person) so you’re definitely not from the usa 💀💀

ahaha yeah, that was a lot 😳 thank you for your questions! it’s friday for me rn so i hope you have a good friday when you get there lmaoooo!

here are the “nice” xue yang fics i have ,,, just a warning like all of them are horny 💀😭

okay so fine line is really good! it’s a modern au and they all come to love each other ahahha

and samsara is really good as well - it’s a character study groundhog-day time loop fic. i guess it can be described as happy ... catharsis and character development can be happy

this one was kind of sweet (and horny whoops), the beauty of your repair

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ REVOLTING PEOPLE / 3.03 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

‘he made his fortune selling false identities to deserting soldiers.’

‘notice the nymphs clustered around his solid gold false leg.’

‘he had sixty-two mistresses.’

‘he died at one hundred and twelve from sexual exhaustion.’

‘how very exciting for you. now, moving on.’

‘you can talk to these two large men about it while they throw you violently down the front steps.’

‘oh, i was having this lovely dream.’

‘what did you go and wake me up for?’

‘most people snore.’

‘it sounds like a dying bullock being sawn in half by a whistling madman.’

‘you mean you’ve witnessed a dying bullock being sawn in half by a whistling madman?’

‘please don’t start any of your lurid anecdotes.’

‘if you disrupt us again i shall come out and personally set fire to your leg.’

‘she’s a spitfire, isn’t she?’

‘with her sparkling eyes, and radiant breasts...’

‘i think they’re now man and wife in name only, if you know what i mean.’

‘he’s had to put his wedding tackle back in its box.’

‘when you find a metaphor, you really like to run with it, don’t you?’

‘there was always going to be a problem of compatibility.’

‘i don’t think her having a bunch of children by other men helped.’

‘that sort of thing doesn’t help a marriage.’

‘almost 1% of marriages now end in divorce.’

‘oh alright, but make it quick. and try not to create any more laundry.’

‘what is it you are writing?’

‘let me see what you’re writing.’

‘novella’s are the devil’s sweetmeats!’

‘throbbing?!’

‘no, wait! i haven’t finished yet.’

‘i’m so disgusted i can barely read on! what does that say?’

‘those two paragraphs there, they are profane! and that one is obscene, and that one... it’s physically impossible!’

‘he must know that she has accepted this commission from beelzebub!’

‘it’s probably best if i hang onto these.’

‘every time my kids have trouble with their relationships, somehow i feel like it’s my fault.’

‘i feel like i’m a failure. a total failure.’

‘just feel free to jump in at any point here and reassure me, tell me i’m not being too hard on myself.’

‘but you’re not. you’re a failure.’

‘i’ve known failure, but it doesn’t bother me.’

‘as i always say: failure is just the foreplay that leads to the orgasm of success.’

‘when do you say that? i’ve never heard you say that.’

‘it’s not an easy thing to drop into conversation.’

‘why’ve you got that crooked smile?’

‘oh, i see. you want to fix it.’

‘i got a bad feeling.’

‘it’s foolproof!’

‘hallu-hallay!’

‘i’m gonna win the log-chopping contest.’

‘his hamster has just died.’

‘he hasn’t got over it. i’m not sure he ever will.’

‘he’s grief-stricken.’

‘i just can’t think of anything that would cheer him up.’

‘i’ve thought of something!’

‘a dead hamster is more important than a log-chopping contest.’

‘i think that’s the most profound thing i’ve ever heard.’

‘golly, i never said profound stuff before.’

‘don’t mention the hamster; it’ll probably just set him off.’

‘you have a lovely nature that people can rely on.’

‘when you can rely on that, that’s because it’s reliable.’

‘it doesn’t seem right, exploiting his good nature like this.’

‘i suppose god wouldn’t have given him such a lovely nature if he didn’t want it to be taken advantage of.’

‘oooh, i just went all goosey.’

‘we’re just laughing at the thought of a man with a broom sticking out of his arse.’

‘it was all about.. intelligence.’

‘that sounds alarming.’

‘you can go in if you want.’

‘i tried to join in and they started discussing philosophy, and i felt out of my depth.’

‘oh, don’t be embarrassed by your ignorance; i never have been.’

‘at least you’ve attended the university of life.’

‘once you’ve seen one wonder, you’ve seen em all.’

‘the sistine chapel is too arty?’

‘i’m no intellectual.’

‘i don’t want to interrupt them.’

‘here is the big question: do we kill them in their sleep or ambush them in the woods?’

‘that has the makings of a great slogan! write that down.’

‘power comes from the barrel of a gun.’

‘read my lips: no more taxes.’

‘you are on fire tonight!’

‘it’s what must be done.’

‘excuse me! would anyone like tea and biscuits?’

‘it’s the economy, stupid.’

‘you’re new, aren’t you?’

‘i have a cold.’

‘so the mona lisa’s a disappointment as well?’

‘there’s nothing enigmatic about that smile. if you ask me, it’s just wind.’

‘i bring you grim tidings.’

‘sorry, i stopped listening once i realised who was talking.’

‘i wish i could read.’

‘it’s depraved, isn’t it?’

‘it’ll bring shame on this family.’

‘strumpet. one of my favourite words.’

‘the very idea is absurd.’

‘why would my wife’s head be full of naked, writhing bodies?’

‘think it’ll snow later?’

‘i’ll deal with my errant daughter in my own way, thank you.’

‘now if you’ll excuse me, i’m afraid i have to slam the door in your face.’

‘and then i’m going to bet the house on a log-chopping contest.’

‘don’t talk. i haven’t walked all these miles to listen to your windbaggery.’

‘if a monkey learns to dance, does it stop being a monkey?’

‘i don’t understand that. did you understand that?’

‘i understood ‘ta-ta’.’

‘dry you damned laundry, dry!’

‘he seemed to really enjoy them. he kept making these little squealing noises.’

‘are you alright for money?’

‘you can’t tar people and then not do the feathers. that way anarchy lies.’

‘anarchy is the banana in the fruit salad of failure.’

‘give me liberty of give me chocolates!’

‘man is, by nature, a political animal.’

‘well, what do you know. someone taught the monkey to dance.’

‘i’m being intellectual so that i’ll be less of an embarrassment to you.’

‘you’re doing this to be /less/ of an embarrassment?’

‘i like you just the way you are.’

‘i like my men basic.’

‘they don’t come more basic than you.’

‘i’ll just get the tea and biscuits then, shall i?’

‘will you stop looking at me like that? it’s not my fault!’

‘he tried to saw his own head off.’

‘he’s just big-hearted.’

‘that was a bit reckless.’

‘you said it couldn’t fail!’

‘you seem very relaxed about it.’

‘i wouldn’t do that if i was you.’

‘that’s a shiny bayonette.’

‘the blade’s a little cold against my throat like that.’

‘no no, let me. i’ll slam it in my own face as i leave.’

‘i can’t allow that.’

‘we’re sucking on a huge money-tit here!’

‘i guess the lord wouldn’t have blessed her with a talent for writing pornography if he didn’t want it to be used.’

[cassidy-malta]

February 13- Ciao, Roma!

"When in Rome" -a very dangerous attitude I had this weekend. 

(total shock and awe that this thing actually exists and that I’m standing in front of it)

I just arrived back at the flat after three absolutely life changing days in Rome, or as the Italians say, "Roma" (insert fancy Italian flourish here). We arrived to our hotel and dropped off our bags before venturing out for a bite to eat before our first tour. This is the moment I realised my tastebuds would ever be the same. I scarfed down an incredibly "meh" four-cheese pizza (the waitress corrected me and said cuatro formaggi pizza- an American mistake I wouldn't make again) and stopped at a cafe on the walk back to the hotel where I split a Nutella cannoli with my classmate, Anna. There's something inherently magical about walking the streets of Rome in 60° weather with a pop-can sized traditional treat. I turned to my friends and told them it was the best thing I had ever tasted. 

We met an eccentric tour guide next, Nino, and caravanned to the Vatican. Security was tight but with Nino's guidance, we entered the Vatican museum and learned a little bit about everything. I got to see the world famous sculpture of Apollo, Emperor Constantine's mother's tomb, marble floors, ornate carvings, and a mile-long hallway filled with busts of wealthy residents of Ancient Rome. Nino was incredibly knowledgeable with a sprinkle of goofiness. He spoke into a lapel-mic and we all had wireless headsets so anything and everything he said was projected into our ears. His coughs, gums, & American/Italian jokes ("Americans gave us three things: Wrigley's chewing gum, whiskey, and jazz"). When we were lost in a crowd, he would fill our ears with a comforting "Nino is here!" After a long monologue about a given subject, he would briskly say, "now that you know everything about about that, you follow Nino." And finally, my personal favorite moments were when he would direct our attention to some ancient ruin or famous painting and then take off in a different direction, leaving us jogging to keep up with him. He was remarkably speedy for a 60 year old Italian. 

(very famous sculpture of Apollo. I loved seeing the detail they put in!)

After the Vatican museum, we went into the Sistine Chapel. Guards were dispersed every few feet to monitor if anyone was taking any illegal photographs of the famous Michaelangelo paintings, and to keep everybody quiet as it was a holy space. Nino, of course, secretly spoke into his lapel mic and explained all the intricacies of the paintings, pausing for an occasional "shh, a guard!" or "you will not get in trouble, you are with Nino." The Chapel was infinitely larger than I had imagined, the colors vibrant and the beauty absolutely breathtaking. I've seen the images from the chapel my entire life in my textbooks and online but I finally got to see them in person and I could've sat in that room for hours. Next we got to tour St. Peter's Basilica where I once again saw famous art I've only seen images of. As I walked the Basilica and reminisced the news broadcasts from the 2008 election of Pope Francis, I finally accepted that this was all real and a dream all at once. We then said goodbye to Nino for the day and a small group of us went to the Pantheon. I honestly couldn't tell you what the Pantheon is but it hosts the largest concrete dome in the world and was build a very long time ago so that was cool I guess. I ended my first day in Rome at a small restaurant where I had "cuatro formaggi gnocchi" and quite literally licked my plate clean. I turned to my friends and told them it was the best thing I had ever tasted. 

(We couldn’t take any pictures inside the Sistine Chapel so we took one in the bathroom instead- feat. my professor)

(Top left: very famous statue from inside St. Peters Basilica. Top right: the dome of the pantheon. Bottom left: me in front of the mysterious pantheon. Bottom right: the worlds best food probably)

Day two in Rome was a long walk to the Colosseum with Nino. On the way he pointed out what looked like a normal Italian square, but informed us that in one building, Mussolini made speeches to the public and signed the document that gave Vatican City it's independence, and the other building is where Michaelangelo lived and died. Meanwhile, directly behind us was the worlds largest monument. I totally had a "toto, we're not in Kansas anymore" type of moment. Nino told us anything and everything about the Colosseum, the theatre where Julius Caesar was assassinated (which is now a cat sanctuary), the Roman forum, and various ancient temples and arches. It was an overload of information and world history and I was pretty grateful when we split for lunch. Of course on the way to lunch we came across the iconic Trevi Fountain. We ate a quick lunch (more cuatro formaggi gnocchi for meeeee), then had some fresh gelato. I turned to my friends and told them it was the best thing I had ever tasted. My little group of pals found the Spanish steps (none of us knew what they were- still don’t) and spent the rest of the afternoon dodging pushy street vendors, hitting up the shopping district, and racking up a ridiculous number of steps on our fitbits. 

(Top: Nino the great, Bottom: the Colosseum in all of its glory)

Our third and final day was a blessing. Literally. Like a blessing from THE Pope Francis. It was our free day so with a "when in Rome" attitude, a group of us went and saw the pope. It was probably the coolest thing I've ever done despite not being remotely catholic nor speaking a word of Italian. He seems like a pretty cool dude, and people from all around the world waved their national flags as he acknowledge their home countries and regions. A definite once in a lifetime experience. We shopped more and ended the day at an upscale restaurant where I got the lasagna and found myself licking my plate clean and I turned to my friends and told them it was the best thing I had ever tasted. We went out for some drinks after dinner where I got a sparkling white wine that was so sweet and delicious it was dangerous. Once again, I turned to my friends and told them it was the best thing I had ever tasted. 

(Top left: the entire scene at the Vatican. Bottom left: Francis on the Megatron. Right: the best picture I could get of the man himself)

(I’ll be honest, I had a one track mind for most of the trip. Also add me on snapchat if you’re hip @cassidylaughs)

I write this on the flight back to my little island. While I'm sad to be saying goodbye to a place that was so magical for me (and my tastebuds), I'm kinda excited by the fact that I feel like I'm going home. Malta has quickly become a home base for me- a safe place, a comfortable place. I'll be home in Malta for four days before boarding another flight for an extra long weekend in Athens. As usual, thank you all for reading, your prayers, responses, notes. If anyone wants my Malta address let me know and I'd be happy to provide. Additionally, if you have any Athens recommendations, PLEASE send them my direction! 

[randoreviews]

ON SET

     A man sat in the corner of a little room by himself. He had one hand near his mouth and the other extended on the arm of the chair he was sitting on, his fingers somehow very expressive. He wore a silk robe, red, almost pink, in color, and on the robe it said, “Ted,” in cursive. Anyone who saw him, if there was a fly on the wall, the fly would have said that Ted look troubled.      A knock on the door and in the mood he was in, Ted didn’t bother responding but the door opened anyway. The person made sure to shut the door behind them, even facing the door to do it, to maintain privacy. Now two men in the room, and the one who had just entered was older, well seasoned, wore a pinky ring and a plaid shirt and slicked back silver hair. Ted had tousled, impossibly healthy, curly brown hair, and some would say Greek facial features.       Pinky ring, without saying a word, walked over and knelt before Ted and put his hands on his knees. Looking up at him he then said, “What’s a matter, champ?” in a softish voice.       Ted made a series of frustrated noises and moved his fingers by his mouth around in different directions and moved his knees, while Pinky ring’s hands stayed right there.       “Babe... Ted babe... What is it, you need a pill? You need fluffing? What do you need, Jerry will get it for you.”      More grumbling. Pinky ring Jerry rubbed Ted’s thighs for moral support and said again, “What is it, you need a pill?”      This time Ted spoke words, while still looking at the wall, seeing and not seeing the wall. “It’s all shit, Jer.”      “What is, babe?”      “Ah, forget it.”      “No, no, tell me. What’s all shit, babe?”      “What are we even doing, Jerry?”      “What do you mean, kid? We’re makin movies.”      And when he said the next doing, Ted finally looked at his director/producer. “But I mean, what are we DOING?”      “What do you mean what are we doing? We’re makin this movie so people can jerk off to it and feel great, and you got this scene with Gwendelyn that we gotta shoot, but Pete just comes to me and says, uh, ‘Hey boss, Ted’s in his dressing room and he looks like his hamster just died.’”       “I don’t have a hamster.”      “That’s not the point.”      “I’ve never had a hamster.”      “Babe, that’s not what I’m saying.”      “I had a turtle once named Rusty but they somehow escaped. Fucking incredible.”       “Babe, Ted... I’d love to hear more about your turtle...”      “Rusty.”      “I’d love to hear more about Rusty, maybe tonight, but right now we got people on the clock. I’m losing money here.”      “I know, I know.”      “So what is it? I know it can’t be Gwendelyn, she’s got tits like the Sistine Chapel and her vagina makes men cry.”       “No, Gwendelyn’s great. She’s great to work with.” Looking back at the wall now.      “So what is it? You need a pill? You need a little mister zappo?”      “No, I don’t know. I don’t really know what’s wrong.”      “That’s all right, babe, that’s all right, that’s perfectly fine. But do you think you could not know what’s wrong while at the same time you’re fucking Gwendelyn? Cuz we got people on the clock here.”      “You know Rog.”      “Yeah babe, I know Rog.”      “The key grip.”      “Yeah babe, I know Rog, our key grip.”      “You know he just had a kid... well his wife had a kid.”      “Yeah, fantastic, great. What’s that got to do with the price of tea in Sherman Oaks?”      “Well it’s like, what the fuck am I doing? But then it’s like, okay, great, he had a kid. What then?”      “Babe, look at me... look at me...”      Ted with his Greek features and curly brown hair at the top of the shiny red robe looked down at Pinky ring Jerry.      “Babe... you won the lottery. You got a dick like a fuckin third leg. Most of these people, they gotta go to work every day, work these reeeeally shiiitty jobs, while you, you get to fuck girls like Gwendelyn.”       “I know. Gwendelyn’s great. She’s really great. I like her a lot.”      “So what’s a matter? You looking to fall in love?”      “Ha, god no,” Ted was quick to say, as if this brought him back to his senses.      “So just think, when you’re out there, when you’re in front of the camera, you’re not just fucking her for you, or for me because we want to make some money. You’re fucking her for all those guys out there, and some girls too, who are looonely, who are stuck in shitty relationships, who got stood up, who could never in a million years fuck a girl like Gwendelyn, who just want to escape for a few minutes. It’s like when you come, that’s their escape.”      “Thanks, Jer. That makes me feel better.”      Still kneeling, Jerry took the hand with the pinky ring and patted his star’s face a couple times.       “You’re a real stallion, kid, and I love ya. Now you sure you don’t want some coke?”      “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Jer. I’m just gonna do some deep breathing for a couple minutes and then I’ll be ready. Promise.”      There was another quick knock on the door and it opened and a woman stuck her head and upper body in, a woman who was wearing the same reddish-pink robe as Ted and she had a face like a fully grownup Ariana Grande and the most inviting and ample natural cleavage, next to which was a name sewn on that said, “Gwendelyn.”      “I’m sorry, Gwendelyn,” Ted immediately said. “This is really unprofessional of me.”       “You’re fine, hun. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay with you two. Do you want like a Gatorade or something?”      “Oh, no, I’m just gonna do some breathing for a minute and then I’ll be out.”       “He’ll be right out,” reconfirmed Pinky ring Jerry.      “Okay, sounds good, no rush,” said Gwendelyn, starting to close the door.       “Gwendelyn?” Ted said.      She stuck her head back in. “Yeah, hun.”      “You look beautiful, and your tits look amazing. Like really,” said Ted.      “Aww, thanks, hun.”      She shut the door.      Pinky ring Jerry gave one more shake of his star’s thighs and then got up and left the room, knowing he needn’t say any more.      Eyes closed, Ted began to breathe and to wash away the thoughts with his breath, although he knew it was impossible. 

[trendingnewsb]

Can You Keep An Eye On The Pope For Just 5 Minutes?

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Two months ago, you came to Europe looking for adventure. The plan was to backpack across the continent, drinking and carousing your way through country after country with no agenda but to live life to its fullest. You wanted to eat, sleep, and breathe all of the different amazing cultures, but, disappointingly, you’ve hardly done any of that. All you’ve done is visit a bunch of old buildings, usually among crowds of other tourists. And today—the last day of your trip—is no different.

You’re here at the Vatican, looking at old buildings with a tour group. Your window for a grand European adventure is quickly closing, and if you don’t do something soon, your trip will have been a waste.

Break from the tour group and go exploring on your own.

Do calisthenics.

What? No! Doing calf raises in public does not count as adventure. Try something else.

Break from the tour group and go exploring on your own.

Spit on the lady next to you.

Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? That lady did absolutely nothing to you. What kind of psychopath spits on a stranger in a church?

Well, the good news is that you’re finally going to have that big European adventure you wanted: You got arrested and are now being taken to a weird foreign jail. Have fun, ya fuckin’ lunatic.

Start Over

You sneak away from the tour group and begin wandering around the Sistine Chapel. Against better judgment, you duck beneath a couple velvet ropes and tiptoe through some unauthorized areas before finding yourself at the mouth of a mysterious, dimly lit corridor.

Proceed with caution.

Noisily barrel down the hallway like a scared gorilla.

At the end of the corridor, you find a new corridor that’s even more dim and mysterious than the last one.

Proceed with caution.

Turn around and go back like a big-time coward.

Ahh! There’s a huge spider behind you now! You’ve got no choice but to go down the scary hallway.

Kick the spider in the testicles and run down the scary hallway.

At the end of the dark corridor is a strange, bright doorway.

Walk through the doorway.

Turn around and go back like a big-time coward.

Ahh! There’s a dangerous pumpkin man behind you now! You’ve got no choice but to go through the strange doorway.

Turn back around and go through the strange doorway.

“Halt! Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Through the doorway, you are met by a menacing guard with a sword.

Stammer nervously.

“You’re not a murderer or anything, are you?”

Insist that you are not a murderer.

“Okay, good. Mind keeping an eye on His Holiness for, like, five minutes? Just gotta run out real quick.”

His Holiness? As in the Pope?

“Yeah. You just gotta stand there and make sure he doesn’t leave the room—we don’t want him getting into any mischief.”

Uh, okay.

Nah, I’m good.

“Great, thanks. Come with me, I’ll introduce you to him.”

Go meet the Pope.

“Pope, I’ve got a new friend for you to meet,” the guard says to the infallible leader of the world’s 1.2 billion Roman Catholics, who is currently standing four feet in front of you. “He’s gonna be in charge for a little while, so don’t give him any trouble, okay?”

Timidly say hello to the Pope.

“The Pope isn’t much of a talker,” the guard says. “But it looks like he wants to shake your hand.”

Shake the Pope’s hand.

“Great, looks like you’ve got a handle on things. I’ll be back in a bit, but just remember: Don’t let the Pope leave this room.”

You nod reassuringly. The guard leaves, and suddenly it’s just you and His Holiness alone in the room.

Begin watching the Pope.

Sitting across from you, the Pope stares silently. Looks like it’s up to you to steer the conversation.

So…you’re the Pope.

You are the Pope?

If I am understanding this correctly, you are Pope Francis, who is basically God’s vice president.

The Pope says nothing.

Pretty neat.

Wow, wow, wow. Wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow. Holy shit! Wow.

The Pope remains silent.

I saw you on the news once.

“…”

Nervously lick your lips.

Audibly scratch your dry ankle skin with your fingernails.

The Pope raises his hand. Looks like he has a question.

…Yes, Pope? You have a question?

You don’t need to raise your hand to talk. You are literally the terrestrial mouthpiece of the Lord Our God.

“I need to make toilet, please,” the Pope says.

Hmm. The Pope needs to go to the bathroom, but the guard said that he needed to stay put.

Sorry, Pope, but I’m not supposed to let you leave this room.

Okay, you can go to the bathroom, but come right back.

“I must make toilet. I am the Pope.”

You make a good point. Okay, you can go.

I’m really sorry, Pope, but I’m afraid you’ve got to stay right here.

“Very well,” the Pope says.

Again, real sorry about that.

The guard will be back soon, and then you can go urinate. Or defecate. Whichever one you desire, Your Holiness.

“…”

Perspire.

Clear your throat a few times.

“…”

You notice a little twinkle in the Pope’s eye. He grins ever so slightly. Then it hits you: the unmistakable aroma of urine. You look down and notice a sizable wet spot spreading across the front of the Pope’s vestments.

Oh, shit.

Pope! No!

“I told you I had to make toilet, did I not?” says the Pope, smiling slightly.

Take off your shirt and use it to dab up the urine.

Place a fern on the Pope’s lap to cover up the mess.

“Oh, come on!” says the guard, returning to the room just as you’re frantically attending to the Pope’s piss-soaked vestments. “What the hell happened? I was gone for literally four minutes.”

The Pope needed to use the toilet, but you said he couldn’t leave the room, so I made him stay put, and he peed himself. I didn’t do anything wrong!

“Okay, but he’s not a fucking 5-year-old. He’s the successor to Saint fucking Peter, and you wouldn’t let him go to the bathroom? Goddammit! Sorry, but I gotta send you to jail for this one.”

The guard charges toward you with a pair of handcuffs.

Resist arrest.

Do not resist arrest.

You throw elbows left and right, but you’re swiftly dispatched by the team of elite sword-wielding guards who have filed into the room to subdue you. The Pope continues staring at you wordlessly, and just before you’re hauled out of the room, he gazes directly into your eyes and gives you a little wink.

That fucking rascal.

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

You do not resist arrest, but the team of elite sword-wielding guards who have arrived to subdue you beat the shit out of you anyway. The Pope continues staring at you wordlessly, and just before you’re hauled out of the room, he gazes directly into your eyes and gives you a little wink.

That fucking rascal.

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

While the Pope is using the bathroom, you gaze around the papal residence. Everything looks very nice, but also weirdly shitty.

Keep looking around the papal residence.

Most of the furniture is the typical kind of furniture that old, rich people buy—the kind that you can tell costs a ton of money but is always uncomfortable no matter how you sit on it.

Keep looking around the papal residence.

Like, see, this chair probably cost ten thousand bucks, but it’s terrible. Why’s there so much brass and wood in places that are supposed to be soft? No one wants to sit in that.

Hmm. The Pope’s been gone for a while now. Going to the bathroom shouldn’t take this long.

Go check on the Pope.

That’s weird. There’s no audible toilet use happening in there. Better make sure everything’s okay.

Knock loudly and shout, “Is everything okay in there?”

Knock loudly and shout, “Pope! Are you having trouble with your ass?”

Huh. No response. What if he died? That’d be awful. You’d be remembered forever as the guy who couldn’t watch the Pope for five minutes without him dying. They’d probably assume that you killed him, too, and then you would go to jail.

You should go in there and make sure he isn’t dead.

Kick the door down and go in.

Open the door the normal way.

Oh, shit! The old man flew the coop! You shouldn’t have let him leave the room.

Better go find him fast, otherwise you’ll be in serious trouble.

Go find the Pope.

Take a minute to mull your options.

Okay, don’t panic. The Pope ran away, but it wasn’t entirely your fault. You can’t be blamed for not suspecting that a 78-year-old might do that.

Now think. How can you fix this?

Simply wait for the guard to come back and explain what happened.

Pretend that you are the Pope and hope that no one notices.

Say “fuck it” and go do something else.

You decide to leave the Vatican and go play Skee-Ball instead. You’re on vacation; you shouldn’t have to worry about keeping the Pope alive.

Hopefully he doesn’t get run over by a car or anything, though.

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

You run out to St. Peter’s Square hoping to find the Pope, but you can’t see him anywhere. You check the ground for fresh scat, but you find nothing. This isn’t going to be easy. To find the Pope, you’re going to need to think like the Pope.

Where would the Pope want to be?

Go to a place with lots of Bibles.

Go to Heaven.

Yes, of course! The Pope probably just wanted to go look at some Bibles! And seeing that the Bible is a book, there’s really only one logical place he could’ve gone: the library.

Go inside the library.

You enter the library and make a beeline for the librarian’s desk.

“Hi, where is the Pope?” you ask her, mimicking the loud, vulgar lilt prevalent among the Italian people.

“Silenzio!” she replies in the loud, vulgar lilt prevalent among the Italian people.

You don’t know enough of the language to decipher what she said, but you have a good feeling that it was, “He is over there, to the left.”

Kiss her on the lips to say thank you, as the Europeans do.

Tuck some cheese curds in her blouse to say thank you, as the Americans do.

Now that’s a spicy meatball!

Go see if the Pope is where the librarian said he was.

Sure enough, you spot the Pope exactly where the librarian said he would be. Excellenzio! Unfortunately, the Pope spots you too, and as soon as you start walking toward him, he throws a chair through the window and escapes out into the street.

Chase after him.

Say “fuck it” and go do something else.

You chase the Pope down to the banks of the Tiber river, but just as you’re about to catch him he hops into an idling motor-gondola and speeds off into the sunset, perhaps never to be seen again.

“I am the fast Pope!” you hear him shout from far off in the distance. “You are the slow Pope!”

Take a long walk to clear your mind.

Go hang yourself out of frustration.

You wander up and down the dark streets for hours trying to piece together how things went so wrong.

Eventually, you walk past a small café with a television facing out toward the street, and something catches your eye. It’s you. Your face is being shown on a news broadcast as the man who kidnapped the Pope, which isn’t what actually happened, but, given the evidence, you can understand how that conclusion was reached.

Before you even have time to worry, you suddenly see bright blue lights glaring at the end of the block, and two police cruisers start barreling toward you angrily meep-meeping their little horns. Shit.

Book it down an alley.

Rip your shirt and flex so that they’ll think you’re Hulk Hogan.

“Hulkster, sorry to bother you, but the man who kidnapped the Pope was recently seen wandering around this general area,” one of the cops says. “Have you seen him by any chance?”

No, I have not seen him. But if I do, I will be sure to body-slam him.

Yes. I am the guy you are looking for. I was just pretending to be Hulk Hogan so you wouldn’t catch me.

“But if you’re not Hulk Hogan, why did you just rip your shirt and flex?” the other cop asks, eyeing you suspiciously. “Only Hulk Hogan does that.”

You’re dangerously close to blowing your cover. Better play this one smart.

That thing I just said about me not being Hulk Hogan was a funny joke. I actually am Hulk Hogan.

I don’t know how or why I did it, but let me assure you that I am not Hulk Hogan.

“Ah, now I understand,” he says. “In light of this new information, I believe we should take you to jail.”

Okay.

Wait! I didn’t actually kidnap the Pope—he tricked me and ran away. But just give me five minutes, and I swear I’ll have him back at the papal residence.

“Hmm, sounds suspicious,” he says. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you were my favorite wrestler growing up. Meet us back at the papal residence in five minutes—with the Pope. You’re walking on thin ice, buster.”

Go find the Pope.

Capitalize on this opportunity to flee the country.

You make a dash toward the border but are immediately halted by the police, who were closely monitoring you because they’re not idiots. They don’t savagely beat you like American cops would, but they make some condescending remarks that really hurt you on the inside. It’s no fun.

The good news is that you’re finally going to have that big European adventure you wanted: You will now spend the rest of your life in a weird foreign jail. Have fun!

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

You return to Vatican City, where thousands of tourists are swarming the main public square. Considering the size of the crowd, you realize that your odds of finding the Pope are slim.

Wade into the crowd and start searching anyway.

Just grab someone who looks pretty close.

You are immediately placed under arrest. The cops don’t brutally beat you like American cops would, but they make some condescending remarks that really hurt you on the inside. It’s no fun.

The good news is that you’re finally going to have that big European adventure you wanted: You will now spend the rest of your life in a weird foreign jail. Have fun!

Return to Checkpoint.

Start Over

Yikes, where do you even start? With a crowd this size, finding the Pope seems just about hopeless.

Look to the left.

Look to the right.

Look 500 paces northeast.

Capitalize on this opportunity to flee the country.

Oh. There he is.

Hurriedly grab the Pope and rush him back to the papal residence.

You grab the Pope and hustle back to the papal residence, where you find the cops waiting for you.

“So, did you find the Pope or what?” one of the cops asks. “If you didn’t, we will take you to jail, and you will have to stay there for soooo long.”

“Yes, actually, I did find him,” you report. “He is standing right over there.”

Proudly gesture to the Pope, whom you have successfully retrieved.

“That’s not the Pope,” the cop says.

“What?” you reply, the alarm audible in your voice. “Of course that’s the Pope!”

“No, it’s not,” he says. “I don’t even think that’s a real guy. Looks like some sort of latex ape robot or something.”

“Of course he’s real!” you insist. “Watch.”

Huck an apple at his head to make him move.

Huck a can of Coke instead.

Your projectile nails the Pope-like being squarely in the forehead, but it reacts in no visible way. It just stands there. Slowly, it begins to dawn on you that whatever this thing is that you’ve brought back to the papal residence, it is almost certainly not the Pope.

“Okay, you’re going to go to jail now,” the cop announces.

Resist arrest.

Do not resist arrest.

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