#I'm too Wealthy to be poor since I Live Forever

[awesomehoggirl]

EXT. BUSTLING FLORENCE -- DAY -- YEAR 1436

The Italian Renaissance has just started to kick. TRIXIE MATTEL!AZIRAPHALE is looking up at the newly completed duoma atop the Florence Cathedral -- half smiling, half smirking. Unbeknownst to her, KATYA!CROWLEY is sidling over, cast in darkness by the great building's shadow.

KATYA: It kind of looks like a titty.

Trixie jumps dramatically with a yelp she twists into a comedic gasp, bringing her hands up to press against her chest.

TRIXIE: Fuckin' bitch! I thought you were busy whoring around in Russia with -- with -- Scary Face. Scary Eyes.

KATYA: Dmitriy the Terrible Eyes? Oh, girl, Yury of Moscow died forever ago. That was the fourteenth century, and this --

She steps back grandly, gestures to the cathedral with an indelicate flourish --

Is the fifteenth.

TRIXIE: Four million bricks and the invention of linear perspective. Not bad for a few decades' work, huh?

KATYA: Not bad for Filippo Brunelleschi?

TRIXIE: Well, if he had any divine inspiration -- (stretched out, on a smile) -- I wouldn't say it went amiss.

KATYA: So you're dipping into cathedrals now, that's really interesting. And STEM!

Standing still appears too much of a challenge. She begins to hop around TRIXIE in a circle.

TRIXIE: I'm a Renaissance woman.

KATYA: You seem smug. You're smug as a pastor, Mary.

TRIXIE: Cathedrals are such a good investment. Every time someone walks inside it's like, ding! One point. Ding! Two points. (In an airy, showy voice) I'm business savvy like that, you know? I'm like a Venetian merchant.

KATYA: Venice! I was just in Venice. Big fat fuckin' port. And boats in the streets. In the streets, mama!

She pauses, like she's registering something.

You were in Venice recently?

TRIXIE: It's kinda been a pet project of mine. The Republic of Venice. Isn't it great?

KATYA: No, it isn't great. I mean, I think it's great. You shouldn't think it's great.

TRIXIE, smile gone wooden, like she doesn't get it: Why? Because they're warring with Rome? I can't stop them warring with Rome.

KATYA: Because you're -- (she gestures wildly, ducks her head, like it's embarrassingly blatant) -- you're an angel. And it's like, a freaking hotbed of exploitation and malodorous sin.

TRIXIE, now laughing, giggly and nervous: What the actual fuck?

KATYA: Hell commended me for their financial system, that's why I was -- it's like, apparently I invented capitalism. But they do that shit on their own all the time. So I checked it out myself, and sure enough, they have an elite mercantile class exploiting the poor, and I was like cool, yeah, they've only fuckin' brought us one step closer to The Really Really Big One--

TRIXIE: Oh. That's why you're in Italy. (She sucks on her lower lip). Well, that's not actually possible, because I engineered their financial system. Venice is all wealthy and happy and shit.

KATYA: Yeah! Yeah, a couple are wealthy and happy! (Her face quick-changes from passion to incredulity, to gutwrenching dejection. Her voice goes soft and worried). You engineered all that?

TRIXIE: They commended me on it.

The moment, the realisation, hangs like icicles in the air. They look up at the cathedral -- the sun has moved so they both are cleaved in its shadow.

TRIXIE: We've got years. Centuries. This won't -- it won't change shit, Katya.

KATYA: But Venice is fucked. It's fucked, the merchants are fucked, they're so greedy--

TRIXIE: Heaven commended me on it. (It's shrill. She clears her throat subtly). Girl, humans are always -- being fucked. Doing fucking. (She shrugs). You're, like, being all bleeding heart about this when you personally oversaw the spread of syphilis, so...

KATYA, upset: They're all gonna die anyway, so it's whatever, right? If they're suffering while they live?

TRIXIE: Mary, don't get weird with this. Rome will probably stamp them out anyway. Or the Medici.

KATYA: The Medici. (Like she's thinking). You know, I've been sleeping since Yury of Moscow. I fucking hate all of this bullshit.

TRIXIE: Careful. (Beat). Well -- I mean -- I heard the Mongols invading everyone was you. Everyone thinks you're ruling this -- like, totally killing it. They even respect you up my end.

KATYA, miserably: So I'm Heaven's favourite demon. (Another beat). Honestly, the way they're squeezing out slimy baby-viscera all over this place, you could probably sleep for a couple centuries too. Play hooky.

TRIXIE, half as a joke: Are you tempting me?

KATYA: No. Hell, sock it to sloth, you should do my job for me. (A shrug). You can really do whatever.

The cathedral looms. She's gloomy and TRIXIE is antsy. She wants to make her laugh, wants her to be pleased. She wants their easy banter back, but she can't see where she went wrong just yet.

TRIXIE: It doesn't look like a fucking tit.

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 30 - Amity

I decided to wrap things up for FFXIVWrite with a little reflective piece for Akku. The nicest little guy for the friendliest prompt.

While not related to the prompt I'd also like to celebrate here that I did it! I did every single prompt for this challenge! This is something I've actually wanted to accomplish for a few years now, so I'm really proud of myself. I hope anyone following my page enjoyed it too and wasn't driven too mad by my blog suddenly becoming 99% fics when I rarely posted my writing usually lol.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

As far back as he could remember, Akku simply wanted to be a good person. To be kind to everyone he met. Even before his echo power had manifested and shown him just how much suffering everyone carried, he wanted to make their lives better.

In his youth, his kindness was not repaid. In retrospect, he had simply been a pushover. Letting others walk all over him trying to make them happy. In the mind of a child, letting others act in the way that made them happy seemed like kindness.

He had still not entirely grown out of that when fate first dropped him in with Solar as a Warrior of Light. He had been the youngest one there, a boy of nineteen summers tagging along with proper adults. A bright eyed child hopeful about their role in the world. Heroes were always kind after all. Heroes made everyone happy in the end.

But he quickly came to see that simply wasn’t reality. Sometimes the greatest kindness was a harsh truth, sometimes people suffered and died no matter how hard you tried.

Sometimes in the end Altais, with her direct and blunt responses, had been kinder than his attempts to comfort people. Sometimes, even when the war was over and the people were saved, some still suffered endlessly. And many people didn’t even live to see the end.

In a strange way, Akku had learned to be kinder. He understood when he had to be direct and harsh for the greater good of someone’s well being. He had learned to respect himself and not just be tread upon, for his agency was needed to do good in the world. 

And in face of his failures, he continued to try.

Akku reflected on all of this as he relaxed by the docks in Sharlayan, a light snow starting to dust the ground. He had come to like this city a lot, there was something peaceful about it. And since being sort of adopted into a study group despite not actually being a student, he enjoyed spending time here with some new friends. With the Scions officially disbanded, and his friends in Solar spread out working on their own things Akku had been sort of drifting lately.

Should he be doing more than this? Maybe. Maybe he should enroll in the classes himself instead of just studying with some of the students. Maybe he should be going home and seeing if Zelda needed any help on the administrative side of things. Or maybe he should still be traveling, doing what he can to help anyone he meets.

But this was comforting. And he didn’t need to do anything just yet. Being a Scion and Warrior of Light had actually left him quite wealthy, even with his poor money skills. Not Ul’dah Syndicate level of wealthy, but wealthy enough where he probably would not want for anything for the rest of his life if he kept living as he did. And if he had the means to keep doing nothing for a little while, then why not? There was one person he had rarely ever been kind to: himself. And that person deserved this period of rest. Purpose would find him again eventually. Until then he’d continue to enjoy this. He’d keep trying to spend time with his friends, both new and old, simply because it made him happy. And he knew it made them happy too. What better way to spend his days than that?

He wasn’t dumb enough to think it’d last forever. Eventually his friends would need his help again, and he would answer because that’s who he is. But somehow he’d gotten that happy ending everyone wrote the hero having. It wasn’t as perfect as the stories, but it was his and he was happy.

[northwest-cryptid]

Okay sure I get what this is trying to say but here's the thing, you're not offering an alternative. This line of logic is damned if you do, damned if you don't type shit.

You're not depressed? Well then you must be complicit in the deeply unjust, and cruel society we find ourselves living in.

You're depressed? Good, hold dear to those horrible thoughts and very possibly awful actions of self loathing and self harm because remember, that's how you SHOULD be acting/feeling in this sort of situation!

Grow up. No one SHOULD be depressed, no one deserves that. If you're depressed, remember this; there's people out there who can help you. You're not alone, and while you may be unable to change the world at large you can absolutely make changes in your own life and the lives of those around you. Take small steps towards larger goals, break it all down into achievable small term goals you can manage. Try to remind yourself that if you have depression, you really need to "put on your own mask before assisting others" so to speak; focus on you for a bit. Life can be hard, it can be unjust, it can be cruel; but that doesn't mean it will always be. No it's not something to be proud of to be complicit in a world of hate and cruelty, but it's also nothing to be proud of to hold your depression as some kind of virtue signal of standing in opposition.

Your depression is not a medal you wear to show you don't agree.

Your depression is a parasite that wants you dead, it's the weapon of that same cruel world; do not harbor it with pride; fight against it for as long as you can. Free yourself from the chains of your mind, lest you fall victim to not being able to stand against the world that shackled you.

If you are depressed I need you to try as hard as you can to pull yourself out of that pit. I'm not saying you can fix it all with a positive mental attitude or some shit. I'm saying there are very real steps you can take to fix things, there's people who can help you, yes even if you're poor.

Depression is the tool of the enemy, used to keep you from caring. Not about the world, not about yourself; you're too depressed to care anymore, you oppose the unjust nature of the world but how? With what? With depression? By hating yourself and everything around you? By harming yourself? By possibly taking your own life?

No.

Fuck that.

That's what they want, they don't want you to feel like you have the power to bring real change. They want you too depressed to care, too depressed to try; too depressed to keep going.

Get the help you need, reach out; seek therapy, research meds, look into whatever is causing the issue and see what you can do.

Remember that we all have a part to play in things, and your part doesn't need to be a lone hero who comes in and makes everything better. That's not realistic.

I understand if you look around and see a world that just doesn't care, a cruel fucked up place where good people die every day while the corrupt and wealthy can do whatever the fuck they want without consequence; and I understand if that gets you down, if you feel like you can't do anything. Trust me I've been fighting against the government's mistreatment of Natives since I knew how to talk.

But the truth is, whether your depression stems from your living situation, your social situation, the world around you at large, doesn't matter. There's people out there who can help you.

It's not easy but you need to take the first step and seek to better your situation whatever it may be. If it's looking up places you can volunteer, donate, or somehow aid; do that! If it's looking up places to live, people looking for roommates, maybe even just finding a job; start looking! If it's a matter of being trans or queer and living with people who don't allow you to be yourself; I need you to realize you won't be stuck with them forever, see the previously mentioned "look for people that need roommates, find a job or source of income!"

It's not easy, there's no one size fits all answer; and I'm not going to claim there is.

What I'm saying is that we have spent far too long wearing depression like a medal to show how sad we are that the world is bad; people treat it like some quirky personality trait.

No.

Fuck that.

Depression is a virus, it's a parasite that wants you dead; it's a disability, it is not a personality trait and it has FUCK ALL to do with your moral values. Do not let posts like this cause you to wear your depression like a medal of opposition to a world of cruelty.

Whatever the issue is, whatever is causing your depression; it could literally be a medical issue I don't care. I need you to locate those issues, and I need you to find solutions, even if they're lofty ambitious goals; I need you to break those goals down over and over until you get to the now; what can you do RIGHT NOW. I don't care how small of a step it is. I don't care if it feels hopeless; start taking those steps. The alternative is to roll over and let the world kick you while you're down, and if you're willing to do that you're already as good as dead; and I don't want to see anyone giving up on themselves like that.

[phnxpcky]

So I recently watched Stephanie Soo's (Missmangobutt) "Baking a Crime" video about the movie "In time" (I know the video is a year old but anyhow) and I watched this movie forever ago when it first came out but at the time I was too young to have any thoughts about it other than "huh that was an interesting and exciting movie". I've basically forgotten about the movie since then but then I watched Stephanie's video and she of course commented on how the movie is, in a way, an interesting portrayal and critique of our current society.

If you haven't watched the movie before, it's basically about a futuristic version of society where everyone stops aging at the age of 25 but also at the age of 25 the rest of the time in your life basically becomes currency. So you will never grow physically another day older after the age of 25 but starting at 25, you start paying for and get paid in the amount of time you have left to life (e.g. You might pay a convenience store 5 minutes of your life for a bottle of water or 500 hours of your life for each month of rent, someone might pay you 6 hours of their life to fix their roof, and you might put down 10 hours of your life for a round of poker in hopes you'll win 20 hours back). Your bank account is literally the amount of time you have left to live and it's constantly going down (talk about your no/low interest bank account actually losing value with each passing moment....) until the moment it hits 0 when you'll just drop dead. This means the poor are literally struggling to stay alive from day to day while the rich basically life forever.

That's the general context of the movie, there is obviously a statement being made about income inequality and the 1% vs 99% when you have the super poor literally struggling to stay alive juxtaposed against the super rich basically living forever but I won't go into details because as a Zillenial in 2023, I've a few other interesting thoughts about the movie now.

Basically, I don't think that kind of society would have lasted very long. I'm basing this on several things including the lie flat and let rot movements by the Millenials and Gen Z in China, the quiet quitting trend in at least the US, North Korea literally making suicide illegal because they started having a suicide problem, and just the overall terrible state of mental health across the world. It's all just not a great recipe for a society where if you're not crazy wealthy and you don't work like a slave you'll simply drop dead. To be quite frank, there are currently many significantly worse ways to go than to just drop dead. I don't know the details on how people die in the movie but if it's a split second thing like it's shown to be, it can't be more painful than the current way most poor people die (slowly from starvation/illness/physical injuries). I can see Millenials and Gen Z getting dropped in the world of "In Time" and everyone basically goes "soooo lifetime of miserably slaving away or nonstop partying for about a month before just dropping dead? Guess it'll be the craziest party of the century". The society basically built in an easy and possibly painless if not as least minimally painful way out. The movie literally starts with a man who is over 100 years old giving away the 100 years he still has because he's tired of living. What's to say the people that're grinding everyday for an extra 12 hours won't get tired and just be like "you know what just going in my sleep sounds not bad actually". Once all the poor start dying out the rich will realize that suddenly there aren't anybody left to help them uphold their lavish lifestyles. Sure they may have an eternity to live but there won't be very many people, if anybody, around to build their mansions and farm the food for their 3 star Michelin meals. It'd all fall apart pretty quickly. What do you think?

[harrelltut]

卍 I BEE MACHINE [IBM] WRITING on My Noiseless Typewriter from My Noiseless Typewriter Company, Inc. in NYC... II MAXIMIZE MY LEAN GOD MIND @ My QUANTUM HARRELL TECH® LLC Offices in California [CA] as I Cryptically Communicate HIGHLY Complex Cosmic Algorithmic [CA] Computation [Compton] Messages II the U.S. Pentagon since they PAY Me [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] A HIGHLY Classified Black Budget II Accurately Document My Historically NEW [FUTURISTIC] Ancient Life in NEW ATLANTIS 2020 卍

[rokachan]

🍷 – Describe an ideal date for your muse. 🔮 – Does your muse believe in soulmates? How do you feel about writing Soulmate AU’s?

🍷 – Describe an ideal date for your muse.

An ideal date for W'khusai? Absolute chaos. Splurge on a fancy dinner and dash (please go actually pay later, the poor servers don't deserve that hassle even if Khu is a shit). Find a dive bar after, someplace with sticky floors and a band on stage screaming their hearts out and drawing pained screeches from their instruments because they're not that great, but Twelve if they aren't passionate, get smashed on cheap booze. Go start a fight. Start a riot! Bonus points if you manage to drunkenly stumble across some wealthy politic or noble you can try to pickpocket. Poorly. You're both too drunk for it and it ends up with the both of you laughing like idiots and stumbling away.

Khu doesn't have high expectations of people, and she doesn't really want romance. She wants a thrill, she wants excitement, she wants someone to see how great she is when the whole world is burning down and people are running in circles like headless chickens.

🔮 – Does your muse believe in soulmates? How do you feel about writing Soulmate AU’s?

Roka has complicated feelings on soulmates. Does she think there's people who you're pre-ordained to be connected to? No. It's ridiculous to think that if there is a higher power, said power is so invested in the individual lives of each and every persont hat they sit there and tie people together. That they would do so and then leave the possibilty for those connected people to never meet, and forever be missing something they can't quite put their finger on.

She does, however, believe that you can grow into it. There are people you know so deeply and so well that you recognize them in your bones, in your heartbeat. People who are so ingrained in you that you cannot fathom any sort of existence without knowing them. It doesn't have to be a romantic thing, either. There are people who are simply a piece of you, who are as intergal to your life as air and water, and are entirely platonic. Roka has a couple of those, people who she deeply connects herself to without any pursuit of romance or sexual relationship.

I'm not opposed to the idea of writing AUs of most natures, Soulmate AU included! It could definitely be fun to do, but I'm also lacking sorely in experience with writing AUs. In theory, I love it since anything and everythign can happen without it impacting your OCs' canon though. Someone breaking past Roka's belief that she's cursed and being connected to another person on that level? Yeah I could def see it. Someone just getting Khu and all her cocky bullshit? Mmmmyeah.

[svnrise-rp]

"What in the hell is an infinity pool? pools can't go on forever" she shook her head "Well I think living in the same building could be fun, but you would probably regret it when I show up at your door drunk and lonely. Or I make too much food and need you to eat the rest" she laughs then looked around "That's fancy but I think it's a bit much. I don't need a place with a gym and cafe..." she didn't go to regular gyms, she did boxing and skateboarding and a community pool was not ideal since she would have to interact with strangers and that wasn't ideal. "Maybe I'm better off just living in the building you live in...this place...is a lot" she was overwhelmed by how much it had. She was very much a simple person, as much as she liked nice things she was rather humble and avoided over spending and lived small, she didn't grow up poor but she for sure wasn't living wealthy. Her family never went without but they struggled at times. With this she learned to be smart with her money, when sober at least.

Not really sure *CLOSED RP*

Starter for @cine-svr -Hayden

➽───────────────❥

Hayden had just returned to Korea, she was dealing with a lot of drama and needed to clear her head. She was sitting in her favorite bar having a drink and reading a book. She looked tired like she hadn't slept in over a week. She was trying to appear calm and collected but in reality, she had been stuck in her head, rereading the same paragraph over and over while sipping her drink. She placed the bookmark and closed her book before sitting back and downing the last of her drink, she sighed heavily and scanned the room for something interesting to focus her mind on, she found nothing of interest then pulled her phone out and proceeded to send some random texts to occupy her mind, she figured she wouldn't get any answers back but it was something to do at least.

[yandere-wishes]

Eight Tries //Obey  Me Yandere! Asmodeus x reader //

Thank you so so much for this wonderful prompt @feedmestraycats​. Icon made by the lovly @bbelphie​!

TW: attempted suicide, mention of rape/noncon, gore, murder, cheating

This was getting old, he still wasn't home and there was no point in pretending that he was just running late. No, you knew that your husband was not coming back home tonight, maybe if you were lucky you would find him passed out on the couch sometime in the late afternoon once you returned from the marketplace. 

There was no reason to spend the dreary and dull night alone. If that spoiled hero you called a husband could be spending such a gorgeous night, out with some prostitute from the slums then you could also be having some naughty fun~

--To call your current like a nightmare was an understatement. People awake from nightmares, they could open their eyes and be back in the safety of their warm beds, next to the person they loved. But the second your eyes opened you entered a hell on earth, there wasn't any escape, no freedom...and the worst part was that there was not a single soul to comfort you--

Five red candles set in a circle each one a blase with a tiny passionate flame. Two twigs inserted parallel to one another, caging in the dried corpse of a scorpion. Next is the demon's sacred seal written in the summoner's blood, elegantly and delicately. Sprinkle it with salt and state the ungodly words. "Oh, great Asmodeus lord of love, aviator of lust, I become thee come forth to me, I offer you my body and soul"

--You had been born to a noble family in a small and rather poor town. Despite the town economical standpoint, the natives were tremendously kind and neighborly. Everyone shared whatever little of anything they may have had. Your family, in particular, was the most charitable. Giving and giving as much as humanly possible. When it came time for you to chose a husband, your father requested you marry someone from the town, someone you truly loved disregarding how poor or wealthy they may be. Marry for love he insisted but keep it in the family. Regardless to say that's what you did. You found a man and fell in love, married a month later in a joyous celebration in which the whole town had been invited to....but then HE came along--

The circle in front of you puffed with a cloud of thick pink smoke. It invaded your sense, plunging into your mind and sending waves of ecstasy. It was a rush pure lust was infected into your entire body...

but then it stopped, neglecting your corpse and leaving you you confused and sweaty. It was in that eerie moment that the demon decided to manifest himself. He stood tall in all his glory, petite bat wings spread out. If it weren't for the dark shadow and uncharacteristic bitter frown spread thinly across his face, he would have looked as beautiful and perfect as the first miserable night you played eyes on him.

--In the dead of night Asmodeus had murdered your husband in clod blood. He had made you watch as he shredded your lover's corps leaving only a messy pile of blood and organs on the bed. But that had not been enough for the lord of lust. On that same blood-soaked bed he had defiled you,  raped you and stolen what was meant for the man who's blood you now laid in, a weeping mess reeking of that demon's stench. Your parents had found you the following day. They were sent into an accentuated frenzy. How could such a horrifying thing happen? By the following year, you'd been wed again, only for Asmodeus to return on the night of your marriage and decimate your new husband. By the fourth accurations, the townsfolk had deemed you cursed, at first they tried all that they could to save you from this dreadful beast. But all too soon it had turned into a competition. "Who could marry the nobleman's daughter and survive the next day." Desperate to wed you off your parents accepted any challenger who arrived....and each was dead by the morning of your marriage. By the sixth time, the townsfolk had already tried to kill you on multiple occasions. The sweet and caring town you knew had been annihilated replaced by this bitter, angry village of unkind and untrusting residents. And Asmodeus? Well, he'd made a game out of this, each time he'd find a new grisly way to slaughter your new husband and a new repugnant way to rape you. By the seventh husband, you'd already attempted four suicides. All resulting in fallierur, by some black miracle that dreadful demon was always able to save you and keep you alive. All hope was lost or so it seemed.--

"He's out again..." Was there any need to explain why you'd summons him. Over the last two years since your wedding to the "hero", these summonings had been almost routine. 

"Of course he is darling~ did you really think you were enough to satisfy him? hm?"

The words stabbed your heart like a million needles at once, the reality was all too fragile and could come crumbling down at any given time. You had never been enough, this was a well-known fact at this point. You had never been enough for your lovers, parents or town's people and now you weren't even enough for your own husband, the man that had saved you from all your miseries. 

"Love, he's a hero. Hero's don't settle down and live domestic lives with their loved ones and children. They need the torture of missions and anguish of journeys to feel alive. When they leave it all behind they wind up as hollow husks filling out the rest of their existence with alcohol and street women."

--After having prayed to God for too many days and nights to count, he's finally sent you a hero. Tobias was sent to vanquish the demon Asmodeus and merry you as a reward. At the time you'd all thought he had succeeded, that the avatar of lust was really dead. The thought had brought you joyous days and depressing nights. A part of you was beyond thankful that he was finally gone. The other half missed and longed for his lips on yours, for his hands brushing against your skin, the feel of his honey-colored lock tangled in between your fingers. You missed your tormentor...

At first, you and Tobias had been like any young couple so in love to notice the conflict of the world around you, so in love to disregard each other's sharp edges. So in love, until you were no longer. The first year had been sweet and peacful, every day was a harmonious dream...but then Tobias started coming home late, neglecting your presence. Some nights he wouldn't return at all and you'd run into town finding him in some pub drunk and with some random woman clinging to him. You spent those nights crying yourself into fitful revolting dreams of happiness and death. The old pre-suicidal habits had returned. One night the blade slipped and slashed a vain to deep, mentally exhausted you simply laid there waiting for the blood to run out. That's when you saw him again. Over the years he hadn't changed one bit, flirty smile and reddish-yellow eyes still playful and dark. He'd brought you back again and stayed with you until morning. The occurrence repeated it's self like clockwork until one night it was no longer dying and talking but summoning and...more. It felt right to feel him all over you again. His toxic presence made you feel complete, filling up holes in your soul.--

Asmodeus stalked closer, arms slinging in that all too causal way. You didn't dare take a step back, having played this game enough times to know every result before it even sprouted. 

"(Y/N) why won't you listen to me! How dense do you have to be to repeat the same mistake eight times! Eight freaking times before it dawns on you that you are wrong! You will always be wrong! No worthless human or "holy hero" can ever love you as I do. I'm the only one. I'll always be the only one!" 

Your brain screamed that he was wrong, that you could have had a prouspoures, dazzling life had he not killed your first husband or second or even third. Ir was his fault that your beloved town had been plagued with riots and corruption. He taught your people to sin, to ignore the words of God and his angels! Yet your cracked heart knew that he was right, no man would ever love you again... hey all married you for some selfish obligation or another. And Tobias....Tobias was the worst of all. He was forced to marry you by the holy on. Thrust into a loveless marriage with the suicidal "beauty" he was forced to save. Why couldn't God have just killed you all those years ago? Given the poor "Miss wanna die" her sole wish. He was right, this MONSTER was had always been right! No one loved you. You were less than the rubble under people's feet. Even noble god had turned his back on you...but he, this evil demon...Asmodeus had always come back for you. Hw stole your innocence, your purity, your life! your destiny was forever ruled by him. Maybe that's what you were so constantly in pain and isolation. You were trying to outrun your furutre. Why? What was the point of escaping your inevitable faith? Let it go, submit,  your miserable life would finally become less of a burden. Give up, hand over the crumpled misery you called life to Asmodeus, let him take over. It would all finally be over. No more pain, loneliness, the misery would come to a sweet end!

In a daring, insanity driven moment you lunged yourself forward gripping Asmodeus' toned shoulders with all your strenghth. Fingernails digging deeper and deeper into his creamy skin. Crashing your lips onto his, trying to let the kiss speak for you. Begging he would comprehend your actions, praying he would accept your submission. In no time he took over, dominating the kiss, slipping his wet muscle into your mouth. Running his larger hands to your lower back. Dipping lower and lower, squeezing anything he could get his hand on. He was the one to (shockinly) break the kiss. He slowly pulled away leaving behind a thin string of saliva. His lush lips were pulled into a smug smirk, his eyes were lightening up with the most joy you'd ever seen. Forcefully he pulled you closer to his chest. Holding your head where his heart would have been. 

[themousefromfantasyland]

The Yule Man (1/7)

As told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

"It's he who brings the Yule ice and snow to Arnsberg." The little girl said.

Everything seemed somehow brighter and warmer on that peaceful afternoon.

The lines of holly hanged above the walls and windows gave an otherworld feel to the street. The jingle of the bells of the market down the avenue helped to remind how happiness sounded like. Silver bells adorned the rooftops. The traditional statues of silver stood on the churches’ terrains.

They promised that the Silver God would once again bless his holy season. The store windows promised an affable and cozy night. That was not what that beggar boy received.

The confectionery attendant shoved him away with all scorn and disdain possible in a man. Why did he should show him kindness? The boy couldn't pay, and he was so filthy dressed he would drive customers away. And as he said beneath his breath while coming back to the store:

"Magic only brings trouble."

Mia Hayek and her baby sister were stepping in their carriage when they saw the scene. The poor young man looked at the sweets in the windows of the confectionery with so much craving. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in a long time.

She took out her long wide hat and her cotton scarf and asked her sister if she knew that boy. The little girl, with all sincerity that a child is capable off, responded.

He had a slender and thin body, but the enormous, hooded fur coat worn swallowed it completely. He carried a huge bag of shabby cloth against his back. The fur hood and the cloth around his lower face made it hard to give him an age. Mia was sure he couldn't be older than twenty.

Everyone in Arnsberg knew the boy. Always seen wandering without destination in the Solstice Eve carrying that stained bag. He arrives in town no sooner than the first snow. He stays for the twelve days of the Yule Festival, then he disappears. And no one can find him before the next one.

Mia saw him in the last year. He lived near the park in front of the bakery. The baker shoved him away as if he was a stray dog. He has not changed a thing from then.

"He never changes." Sophia mindlessly added. "Even mother remembers him from her time. He never changes."

Mia stared at the boy. Ragged and disheveled. Time had devoured those clothes, tattered and grimy as they looked.

"Is he magical?" Mia asked.

"Yeah!" Her little sister nodded. "But he can only bring the snow, he can't control it. He's harmless."

"Stay here!" She told her.

Mia stepped out of the carriage and walked in the direction of the boy as fast as her boots allowed. Noticing being followed, he turned. She stopped in the spot.

The hood obscured his face. He maintained his back bended, and he avoided looking into her eyes. By the way he stayed quiet, she knew he was nervous. People dressed like her usually didn't had nice things to say to people dressed like him.

"You're beautiful!" He whispered to himself, hoping only he listened.

She smiled back.

"Thank you!"

She heard and he could only blush in response.

"Sorry, but I always see you around here during this time." She began saying while messing with her curly hair. "The town can get pretty cold. Do you have where to pass the night."

The boy chuckled, and she could see a vague spark in his eyes.

"The cold never bothered me anyway, madam."

"What do you carry with you?" She came forward and touched his long bag. It felt so freezing that she immediately withdrew as by sheer impulse.

He lowered the cloth that covered his face and looked up to her, allowing Mia to take a deep look.

"I... I should already release this thing, but... I got distracted. I wanted to find something to eat first, so..." He sounded so nervous, trying so hard to justify himself, as if fearing punishment.

His face was pale and soft, still with signs of boyhood. His eyes were big and innocent, in bright green. His beard was as red as a fox, and it was shaggy and full of pieces of ice.

"...and now I don't know where to release this stuff."

"Do you have where to spend the holidays?" She interrupted him.

"No." He answered embarrassed.

The question really pierced through him. She saw how it affected him in the wrong way. A second question slipped through her mouth before she could have time to re-evaluate it.

"Do you found somewhere to eat?"

He didn't respond.

She drew his hands, letting his bag land on the ground. It surprised her how soft and warm they were.

"Stay the Yule with us."

Mia could just have brought him food and then forget anything about him in the next day. Any normal person would do that. Maybe she felt a genuine urge to help him. Maybe her pity for him spoke louder. Perhaps she found him too adorable to let go. Whatever the real reason may be, something drew her to him.

"My father is wealthy, but generous. I'm sure he'll allowed it."

He smiled to her by a second, as if he loved the idea, but then he frowned, as if he remembered something.

"I'm sorry. You have been very kind, but I can't."

"Please!" She insisted, her voice cracking a little. "You can't spend the Yule in the streets and in the cold."

""I already used to it."

He forced a sly grin, as if trying to tranquilize her. He continued. "I'm sure you mean well, but it's better that I stay here."

"Our mansion is always open to those who need it, and you'll be well treated there."

"A mansion?" He frowned.

"My father is Mr. Hayek. My name is Mia Angela Hayek. Ravi de vous rencontrer." She greeted him with the dress.

"Never heard of him." He joked.

"Please, stay with us. We...

"Is it comfy..."

"What?" She asked surprised.

He spoke in a tone that made her think of a timid small boy.

"Your mansion. Is it comfy and cozy? That's how I always picture these places to be." He didn't want her to see he smiled.

"Of course." She nodded.

"Does it have a fireplace?"

"Yes. You can drink hot cocoa by it and eat some gingerbread cookies if you want."

"I never eat a gingerbread cookie."

"You can eat all sweets you wish. The kitchen has smelled wonderful since morning. My father is giving a big ball tonight. It will be so full of cakes and sweets. It will make even the most illustrious confectioneries envious."

Mia saw how much the idea pleased him, how much it tempted him to say yes. Yet, something held him back.

Against his better judgment, he said:

"Okay."

The air grew colder on that moment. The winter breeze brought chills down her spine. Whatever it was, the boy felt it too.

"But just for one night." He soon added.

"What's your name?"

"I don't have one." He said while pulling back his bag.

She tilted her head.

"How come you have no name?"

"Never needed one."

James Hayek had all the reasons to be jolly during the holidays. This son of immigrants became the most important merchant in all the North Kingdom. The Hayeks were the wealthiest mixed family in Arnsberg. This filled him with pride, but also a deep sentiment of duty. As a child of Arnsberg by heart he felt as his duty to retribute all his good luck back to the community.

The Hayek Mansion was a charming building located near the road down to Arnsberg, far close to the forest. Mr. Hayek certified himself that its doors would be forever open to the town that welcomed him.

It was the Solstice Eve. Tomorrow the Yule Festival would begin, twelve days of tradition and merriment. A gigantic fir-tree of nine meters was brought to the mansion's courtyard. The servants of the Hayek family surrounded its needles with all sorts of ornaments. They garnished the Yule Tree with silver, gold, and all kinds of jewelry. On its top, the Solstice Sun ornament promised to shine brighter than the real one. Not even Queen Ava's tree in the Royal Palace was as beautiful as the one who stood now in the Hayek Mansion.

Dozens of statues of goats surrounded the tree, all carefully made of pure straw. A somewhat forgotten tradition that Mr. Hayek couldn't let go in any capacity.

Two full tables had been already set. Roast turkeys and ducks, steamed hams and caramelized cods covered the first table.

The second table looked like a small child's fever dream. Colorful palaces of gelatin and chocolate sprinkled with sugar. Snowy towns and castles of gingerbread covered with white marzipan. Fountains and rivers flowing with chocolate. Towers of cakes and pies. Mountain chains of pudding with nuts and chestnuts boulders. It had enough to maddening the youth.

When Mia and Sophia arrived at the Hayek residence, the Yule Log had been already tossed into the fire. Both her and her sister helped the fur-cladded boy stepped out of the carriage. No sooner they crossed the golden gates, the servants already whispered between themselves. They couldn't help but gaze at the peculiar young man with awe and curiosity.

As soon as the girls walked upon the carpet in the living room, their parents rushed to speak to them. When Mr. Hayek first heard the news, he had to come to see it by himself.

"You brought the Yule Man?" He gave a strong laughter that came straight from the bottom of his belly.

The boy didn't know how to react, so he stepped behind the sisters and gave him an awkward smile.

Mr. Hayek was a cheerful and youthful old man. Mrs. Hayek could be the proudest woman the world has ever seen. She fitted the role of the women who dressed to show the world her social status. Her blue eyes had troubles showing affection. Her corn-like hair was stylized in the same way as the fashion magazines. Meticulously armed.

She approached Mia to talk in particular.

"You should be getting dressed." She spoke with veiled bitterness.

Mia tried her best to argue back.

"Sorry mother, I was doing shopping when..."

Her mother definitely didn't want to know. She twisted her eyebrows and said:

"Why are you so irresponsible. I'm tired of sorries. And what are you wearing for the gods' sake" She started yelling.

Mia swallowed her mother's sermons with her best poker face. Since she was a child, she knew how harsh Mrs. Hayek's criticism could be. Nothing different from the woman that searched for defects in everything.

"You know how this night is important. It's your first ball. My daughter shouldn't look like a hag." She took a pause to breath. "Go get dressed!"

Sophia came forward.

"Can the Yule Man spend the Yule with us?" She asked with manipulative eyes.

"You can't bring him here." She whispered while offering a false smile to greet the newcomer boy.

Fritz and Thomas, Sophia's elder brothers, looked at him with intense curiosity.

"Magic always leads to trouble." She put.

"Mother, he needs us." Mia shot back. "Besides not aging, there's not that much he can do. He is harmless."

"Mia, can you stop arguing..." Her mother tried to shut her down as she always did.

Mia had other plans.

"Father..." She turned to Mr. Hayek. "This is the true Yule Man. You can show him to the town's children tonight.

"I like children." His tiny voiced ricocheted off the living room walls. They turned to face him.

"They are nice to me." He said in a small tone behind them.

They almost had forgot he was still there.

"My dear, I don't know..." Mr. Hayek gazed at his unhappy wife.

"Remember when you were young and poor, and they chased you off that department store." She pointed to the boy. “They shoved him out of the confectionery as if he were nothing. He doesn't have where to spend the Yule days. He never had."

Mr. Hayek grew quiet. Not everyone had been nice to him. The way he looked had closed a lot of doors before. He promised to never take part in any judgment by appearances.

"You win." He winked at her. "Okay. Welcome to our Yule party Mr. Yule Man.

The boy looked at Mrs. Hayek. He saw her eyes steaming.

The guest started appearing around the evening. The parties in the Hayek Mansion always yielded weeks of conversation and gossip. They were more accessible than official public events. Open to everyone who wanted to participate. Thanks to that Mr. Hayek received the charming nickname of the "Father of the Poor." from his enemies. He liked it.

In her bedchamber, Mia wore a ballgown that had the color of the winter night sky. A low busted and short sleeved gown that drew attention to her silhouette. It was richly embroidered with snowflake patterns that surrounded her skirt. A delicate bow tied her curly brown hair back, drawing attention to her delicate face. Her strong red lipstick contrasted quite well with her light-brown skin tone.

When she went down the staircase. She gasped at how beautiful her house looked. Decks of holly, ivy and winter roses scattered everywhere. When the Yule Man saw her, he gasped at how beautiful she looked. He raced to her, still with his bag.

"Why are you still wearing this thing?" She pressed her lips together. She sounded just as her mother.

"Sorry If I was too rude. Do you like it?"

"No. No. I don't like this thing at all." He chuckled while eating a huge piece of marzipan with his free hand.

"So, why do you wear it?"

"As if I had a choice." He smirked.

He had finished his attack on the table of sweets. His mouth still was stained with sugar and chocolate. She noticed he had pockets in his suit, because they were full of gingerbread cookies and pieces of cake. The corners of her mouth lifted a smile as soon as she realized it.

When they arrived at the courtyard, the guests already crowded the place. The music had begun. The youthful couples already waltzed together amid the chatter of their families. That scene never failed to fill Mia's eyes, and now she could be officially a part of it. Her first ball as a woman.

She saw her mother approaching.

"What are you wearing." She yelled in her lowest tone.

Mia stood in her defensive position.

"Mother, you promised I could pick my own dress."

Mrs. Hayek exhaled.

"Yeah, I did. You look beautiful."

Mia smiled in relief.

"You too mother."

"You look perfect, and it's Yule, but don't exaggerate on the food." She laughed. "You know how the woman in our family have problems with weight."

Mia forced a yellow smile as a good daughter. As soon as her mother departed, the boy tried to cheer her.

"That was close. You survived the attack of the amazing shrew. Good job."

Mia laughed out loud. He felt proud with himself.

The children on the place couldn't stop looking at him with amazement. She turned to him.

"You don't really have a name?"

His smile disappeared.

"No."

He tried to physically walk out of that social interaction. She followed him.

"Do you at least have parents or relatives?"

He spent a couple seconds thinking.

"I don't know. I believe that I don't."

"Where you go when you aren't in Arnsberg? Do you visit other cities?"

"I prefer not to think about that." He said as politely as he could.

"Can I ask about the bag?" She joked.

He handled the bag over to the other hand.

"Nope!"

He really didn't like the direction of that conversation.

"Can I least ask you about the beard? Do you like it?"

He stopped. He looked at her.

"Not even a little." He laughed. "It's shaggy, it scratches, and it annoys me so much."

"Why you don't shave it?"

"As if I had a choice."

That was getting on her nerves.

"Why wouldn't you have a choice?"

He looked deep into her eyes.

"Because only real people have a choice."

On that same moment, a man wearing a red fur cloak and carrying a sack full of toys and stepped out of the servant’s door. The children gasped and cheered his presence and rushed in his direction. The adults were left amazed. Santa Claus had arrived. By his side, a very tall man came closer, wearing a wooden goat mask and wearing a very thick coat. On his hand he carried birch branches. The children surrounded them in seconds. The Goat-masked man asked in his spookiest voice if they had been nice or naughty that year. Santa had already start delivering the presents to all the children.

Mia nudged him.

"It's my father. He lives by the Yule Festival." She boasted. "He loves to dress like Santa. He's the only black St. Nick in the town."

"I find funny how you always seem to agree that he's an old fat man in red."

He left her confused.

"Excuse me."

"St. Nicholas is way younger than that. And he drinks." He chuckled. "A lot."

She tilted her head and frowned.

"How can you tell? No one can see him."

He stayed quiet.

"Do you know the real Santa?"

He broke the silence.

"He's a good man. He's nice to me. The Yule Goat is bad. He's very bad. He beats children."

He nodded to the goat masked man. Mia saw that it unsettled him a bit.

"Calm down. It's just Edgar, our butler. He likes to scare kids, so every year he dresses like the Yule Goat."

All the kids after receiving their presents ran to his side. Mr. Hayek as the jolly saint came closer to Mia at said in direction of the young man:

"This man..." He certified himself to be heard by everyone. "...is the Yule Man. Today he will show us the magic of the Yuletide season."

The crowd turned and stared at him in intensity. The typical hypocrisy of mortals: They fear magic but can't lose a chance to see it close. The boy himself stayed quiet as a mouse in his spot.

Mia asked in his ear:

"Crowds make you nervous"

"Yep" He almost couldn't be heard.

"I realized."

He walked to the center of the courtyard without saying no more words. Near the fir-tree he tossed his bag on the ground. Mia attended all that closely.

He pulled the knot that tighten the bag closed and opened it. A single snowflake came out first. It flew like a white butterfly in the direction of the wind. Calm, gentle, beautiful. It shimmered like nothing else. Some of the children ran after it and tried to catch. A second came out, and third, and a fourth. The snowflakes then burst out of the bag, billions of them. Small bright crystals that looked more like pixie dust.

He opened his arms and allowed the endless wave of light blast off and fill the skies. The crowd clapped and cheered in a mad frenzy. Mr. Hayek couldn't believe his eyes.

Mia stood there, speechless. The sight took all her ability to think properly.

The Yule Man closed his eyes. He shook both hands together as quick as he could. The bright outburst ceased. The bag dissolved in icicles. As if the world's largest swarm, they dashed up, up into the sky, while the snow started to fall.

He turned back to them.

"And this...This is how the Yule snow comes to Arnsberg."

The crowd clapped in pure ecstasy. He exhaled relieved.

The kids chased him. The adults had troubles understanding what happened. Mia stayed quiet in her thoughts processing everything.

The north wind blew over them all. The boy felt the message sent to him down to his bones. A dark figure appeared in the corner. He knew there were consequences to be dealt with.

Mia searched for him when he appeared and shook her hand.

"I'm grateful for everything..." He started. "... but St. Nicholas saw me. I already violated too many rules."

And he ran away.

"What!"

She stayed behind, left speechless again.

Mia marched to her parents close to the mansion's entrance.

"Father, what did you said to him?"

She took Mr. Hayek by surprise.

"Nothing, I..."

Sophia stopped playing with the other girls and their new toys and walked to them.

"It was not him. It was the real Santa.

"Hey!" His heart broke. He said visibly offended. "How long do you know I am not..."

Mia interrupted him.

"Sophia, why are you talking about?"

"St. Nicholas came here to talk to him."

"How I didn't see him?"

She responded with such innocence that terrified Mia.

"He's invisible to you."

Mia rushed back inside and searched for him everywhere. She found him when he was getting nearer the front gate.

"Why did you leave?" She approached him behind pulled him by the arm. You said you would spend the night here."

"I can't. I simply can't. St. Nicholas talked to me...

"Santa? Santa threatened you?"

"No. St. Nicholas is nice to me." He argued. "Only a few like him are. The North Wind brought him here. He told him how I was breaking the rules. Different from him, I can be seen by mortals. He thinks it's not wise for me to get too close to them, to you."

He paused as soon as he realized how that sentence could be interpreted.

"To you guys, the mortals, your family." The awkwardness possessed his body.

Her forehead furrowed while pressing her lips together.

"What are the rules?"

He scratched his head and lowered it down.

"I arrive to Arnsberg by the first light of the Solstice Eve. I must leave before the first light after the Yule days are over."

Her expression lightened.

"So, you can spend the festival with us."

"Do you even listen to me?" He cried out loud.

She placed her hands over his shoulder.

"Listen, you will not violate any rules. As long as you left..." She gesticulated for him to continue it.

"Before the first light after the Yule days are over." He added.

"I know you liked here. So, what do you say.”?

"Mia, I can't."

She raised her voice.

"So, they want you to spend the holidays in the street?"

"I don't have a choice." His jaw clenched and he shut his eyes.

She drew him closer.

"Yeah, you do."

That simple phrase teared down his walls. He no longer felt the ground under his feet. His eyes teared up.

"Do you really believe that." He said in a cry voice.

She struggled to look him in the eyes now.

"I do." She smiled to him.

He closed his eyes.

"Okay, I will spend the Yule Festival with you."

He heard the wind blowing outside. A very bad omen indeed. For some Mia sensed butterflies on her stomach. She felt a sweet taste in her mouth. Something sweet and warm inside her chest.

"Okay, I will ask Edgar to lead you to the Guest room."

He shook his head.

"It isn't necessary. I hate giving people trouble. I can sleep anywhere."

She raised her eyebrows.

"But you need a name. Can I call you Christopher? I always found a beautiful name."

"Yeah, you can." His eyes twinkled while the corners of his mouth quickly turned up.

She stepped closer.

"Happy Yuletide, Chris!"

[bladesurgence]

"Doesn't it kill you? The not knowing?" His Ionian is odd—not what one would expect from a Piltovan, but oddly accented, as if he'd taken bits and pieces from each dialect he'd come across and created his own. "I mean, the scrolls all say that there's the remains of a fallen goddess in there, but how do you know? And what does it look like? I'm not saying you should go in and take it apart, but—" His eyes are a little wild, but there's charm in his passion. "—wouldn't it be neat to know?"

     “No.” Irelia snatches a statuette from Ezreal’s hand, placing it back in a little stone alcove. “Even if there is, it would be sacrilege to disturb one.”

     The walls of the temple are lined with ancient Ionian calligraphy, describing a prayer that invokes the gods to grant the fields a bountiful harvest and rain to water the crops. It asks for fortitude to weather times of strife and moderation in times of surplus, so that they do not waste excess in times of famine. It’s a common motif to ask for the wisdom in seeking balance.

     Irelia points to a mural higher on the wall, where the likeness of a woman who wore the clouds as her crown and lived among the Bahrl mountains. Her face is sharp, with a hawkish nose and narrow eyes - much different than her portrait in the HIrana monastery, or the painting hanging in the foyer of the Placidium.

     “What she looks like, or who she might even be, isn’t important. What is important is what she means to our culture. All kinds of Ionians call upon her to intercede, from the young to the old, the poor and the wealthy, the soldier and the carpenter. Not knowing makes it easier for any walk of life to feel a connection to her.”

     Ezreal’s off again, checking another part of the temple. Irelia sighs and hurries in pursuit, ready to restrain him if he oversteps, but he’s kept in his boundaries so far. He’s asking interesting questions, and they get Irelia’s mind turning. She hasn’t met an outsider this invested in their tradition since, well, forever.

     She stands in front of him as he’s reading an inscription on one of the temple’s stone pillars and leans against it. “I know my answers can’t be satisfying, but… it’s all I can give you. We don’t thirst for knowledge the way you keep looking for answers. The ones we’ve found have satisfied us. But I suppose,” Irelia adds with a smirk, “satisfaction’s too tame of a feeling for you.”

[awesomehoggirl]

EXT. BUSTLING FLORENCE -- DAY -- 1436

The Italian Renaissance has just started to kick. TRIXIE MATTEL!AZIRAPHALE is looking up at the newly completed duoma atop the Florence Cathedral -- half smiling, half smirking. Unbeknownst to her, KATYA!CROWLEY is sidling over, cast in darkness by the great building's shadow.

KATYA: It kind of looks like a titty.

Trixie jumps dramatically with a yelp she twists into a comedic gasp, bringing her hands up to press against her chest.

TRIXIE: Fuckin' bitch! I thought you were busy whoring around in Russia with -- with -- Scary Face. Scary Eyes.

KATYA: Dmitriy the Terrible Eyes? Oh, girl, Yury of Moscow died forever ago. That was the fourteenth century, and this --

She steps back grandly, gestures to the cathedral with an indelicate flourish --

Is the fifteenth.

TRIXIE: Four million bricks and the invention of linear perspective. Not bad for a few decades' work, huh?

KATYA: Not bad for Filippo Brunelleschi?

TRIXIE: Well, if he had any divine inspiration -- (stretched out, on a smile) -- I wouldn't say it went amiss.

KATYA: So you're dipping into cathedrals now, that's really interesting. And STEM!

Standing still appears too much of a challenge. She begins to hop around TRIXIE in a circle.

TRIXIE: I'm a Renaissance woman.

KATYA: You seem smug. You're smug as a pastor, Mary.

TRIXIE: Cathedrals are such a good investment. Every time someone walks inside it's like, ding! One point. Ding! Two points. (In an airy, showy voice) I'm business savvy like that, you know? I'm like a Venetian merchant.

KATYA: Venice! I was just in Venice. Big fat fuckin' port. And boats in the streets. In the streets, mama!

She pauses, like she's registering something.

You were in Venice recently?

TRIXIE: It's kinda been a pet project of mine. The Republic of Venice. Isn't it great?

KATYA: No, it isn't great. I mean, I think it's great. You shouldn't think it's great.

TRIXIE, smile gone wooden, like she doesn't get it: Why? Because they're warring with Rome? I can't stop them warring with Rome.

KATYA: Because you're -- (she gestures wildly, ducks her head, like it's embarrassingly blatant) -- you're an angel. And it's like, a freaking hotbed of exploitation and malodorous sin.

TRIXIE, now laughing, giggly and nervous: What the actual fuck?

KATYA: Hell commended me for their financial system, that's why I was -- it's like, apparently I invented capitalism. But they do that shit on their own all the time. So I checked it out myself, and sure enough, they have an elite mercantile class exploiting the poor, and I was like cool, yeah, they've only fuckin' brought us one step closer to The Really Really Big One--

TRIXIE: Oh. That's why you're in Italy. (She sucks on her lower lip). Well, that's not actually possible, because I engineered their financial system. Venice is all wealthy and happy and shit.

KATYA: Yeah! Yeah, a couple are wealthy and happy! (Her face quick-changes from passion to incredulity, to gutwrenching dejection. Her voice goes soft and worried). You engineered all that?

TRIXIE: They commended me on it.

The moment, the realisation, hangs like icicles in the air. They look up at the cathedral -- the sun has moved so they both are cleaved in its shadow.

TRIXIE: We've got years. Centuries. This won't -- it won't change shit, Katya.

KATYA: But Venice is fucked. It's fucked, the merchants are fucked, they're so greedy--

TRIXIE: Heaven commended me on it. (It's shrill. She clears her throat subtly). Girl, humans are always -- being fucked. Doing fucking. (She shrugs). You're, like, being all bleeding heart about this when you personally oversaw the spread of syphilis, so...

KATYA, upset: They're all gonna die anyway, so it's whatever, right? If they're suffering while they live?

TRIXIE: Mary, don't get weird with this. Rome will probably stamp them out anyway. Or the Medici.

KATYA: The Medici. (Like she's thinking). You know, I've been sleeping since Yury of Moscow. I fucking hate all of this bullshit.

TRIXIE: Careful. (Beat). Well -- I mean -- I heard the Mongols invading everyone was you. Everyone thinks you're ruling this -- like, totally killing it. They even respect you up my end.

KATYA, miserably: So I'm Heaven's favourite demon. (Another beat). Honestly, the way they're squeezing out slimy baby-viscera all over this place, you could probably sleep for a couple centuries too. Play hooky.

TRIXIE, half as a joke: Are you tempting me?

KATYA: No. Hell, sock it to sloth, you should do my job for me. (A shrug). You can really do whatever.

The cathedral looms. She's gloomy and TRIXIE is antsy. She wants to make her laugh, wants her to be pleased. She wants their easy banter back, but she can't see where she went wrong just yet.

TRIXIE: It doesn't look like a fucking tit.

i dont think the world talks about this enoguh. crowley and aziraphale