#please god let her art be... acceptable at least

[ayyy-pee]

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Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Story Summary: Following his mothers passing, Nanami inherits his family's rundown bakery. With the bakery on its last leg, Nanami reluctantly takes on the task of trying to save what his family has worked to keep for decades, but he can't do it alone.

Genre: Bakery/Coffee Shop AU

Warnings: Workaholic meanie Nanami, employee x boss relationship, but also enemies to lovers, death, grief/mourning, profanity, jealousy, fluff, angst, Nanami owns a bakery, parental loss, Nanami is bad at feelings, I don’t know if I’ll do smut for this one but sexual tension, mutual pining, Nanami is sort of an asshole here

Art by: Ilameys + (Unknown artist (right pic). I'd love to credit the artist so if you know who it is, please let me know!)

Chapter 2 - Wienerbrød

Chapter Summary: You try to bake something new!

You kick your shoes off as you enter your apartment. With your phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder, you groan in irritation as you storm into your living room.

“I’m telling you, Shoko. This guy is such a fucking asshole. Shut me down the second I asked him a simple question,” you’re ranting as you flop down onto your couch. “He’s got to be the most pessimistic person I’ve ever met. He did nothing but pick apart the entire bakery and tell me how shitty it was, tried to establish some strange dominance thing in the kitchen after offering me the job… the kitchen,” you stress dramatically, wavering your arms as if Shoko can see you. “My domain! Can you believe him? He doesn’t give a shit about the actual bakery. He’s a total businessman type. Stiff, boring as hell and a dick. I don’t know why I said yes to the position. I’m going to hate my life.”

You exhale sharply once you’ve finished your tirade. On the other end of the line, you hear your friend inhale deeply. You didn’t have to ask to know she was sucking on a cigarette, likely almost finished with it and prepping her second, maybe third. After a short beat of silence, you hear her exhale. “Hmm, is he hot at least?”

“Extremely,” you admit through gritted teeth, rubbing away the tension quickly forming between your brows. “That’s the worst part.”

You hate to think it, you loathe to admit it, but Nanami was so very fucking attractive, like stupid hot and it pissed you off! Those thick arms practically bulging through his dress shirt, those veins that exposed themselves and ran enticingly along his forearms when he rolled his sleeves up. His chiseled features, those sharp cheekbones, even his frown was attractive. And god, you didn’t even want to think about his waist. 

Anyone with eyes could see Nanami Kento was an insanely beautiful man, modelesque even. But it only served to piss you off more. His constant gloomy attitude was so off-putting, it almost took away from his beauty, like a rain cloud threatening to cover a blue sky.

“Anyway,” you sigh, putting a stop to your own thoughts as you stare up at the ceiling.  “That’s beside the point, Shoko. He’s an asshole, but it’s obvious he needs help to get his bakery up and running. I think it’s family owned. He told me that he grew up in the bakery. Seemed miserable about it, though.”

“Interesting,” Shoko manages, though she sounds rather disinterested. “Well if he had to pick anyone, he definitely hired the best person for the job. You’re annoyingly positive.”

“Okay, rude.”

“I just mean you’ll balance his negativity well. Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?”

You hum, your mind already accepting your fate. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I am. The guy clearly needs help and you love this kind of thing - taking something old, miserable and rundown and making it loveable again.”

You hum again, listening as Shoko blows out another breath of smoke. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll do the same for the bakery, too.”

“Right. Wait– what?”

“I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She says, voice light with humor. The line goes dead and you roll your eyes at your friends comments as you let the day's events wash over you. Nanami said he wanted to sample some of your desserts on Monday and see some new recipes. You can do that.

The moment you’d stepped into the bakery’s kitchen, your mind raced with possibilities. You felt at home there. The kitchen felt like it had been loved, like it was properly used and cared for, albeit old and a little rundown. That was okay. It gave the kitchen personality and you loved that. You wanted to continue giving the kitchen the love it deserved.

Nanami told you he’d grown up in that kitchen, but he truly seemed to hate even being in the building. You tried to picture a chubby little blonde boy with his arms crossed and a scowl etched across his face standing in the kitchen covered in flour and icing. Adorable, but definitely not the man you’d met today. You wondered how it came to be that he now owned this bakery when he seemed to despise it.

And you wondered if there was a way to get him to learn to love it again.

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It wasn’t your job to turn his frown upside down, so to speak. It was your job to make sure the bakery was successful as it’s Head Baker and that’s what you intended to do.

- - - - - -

The weekend came and went just as quickly and now you find yourself standing in the kitchen of the bakery with Nanami as the sun barely begins to rise over the city. You pile your notebooks onto the large metal table in the center of the room. Nanami reaches over, taking the notebook sitting atop the stack.

“Are these your recipes?” He asks, flipping through the pages.

“Yep. These are some pastries I created on a whim. I was thinking we could go through and select what you like, maybe tweak some so that they fit more of the vibe you’re going for with the bakery. Or are there any pastries you’d like to keep from the previous owner?” 

Nanami’s dark eyes shoot up from the notebook to look at you. You hold his gaze, trying to find anything behind those eyes aside from the clear hatred he holds for this bakery, but you don’t. It’s frustrating.

“No,” is all he says.

“Okay…well, we can start from scratch then. Let me know what you see that you may like.”

Nanami replies with something between a grunt and a hum. “I’ll review a few of these and will follow up. If you want to get comfortable and organize the kitchen to your liking, go ahead. Please try and have a sample pastry ready within the next few hours.”

He turns to go into his office without so much as a look back.

You sigh, trying to get used to this silence you were sure you’d be working in everyday whether Mr. Nanami was there or not. You couldn’t wait to establish a menu so you could bring staff on. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You wander through the kitchen with a notepad, looking through all of the smallwares and jotting down what you see in case you need to place an order. There seems to be many of the supplies you need here already and in good condition - spatulas, mixing bowls, flour sifters, icing tips. The bakeware also seems to be well supplied with an array of bread pans, muffin tins and cake pans. This place was fully stocked as far as you could tell. 

You shuffle over to where three mixer appliances sit on a counter against the wall, setting your notepad down to inspect them. They’re a little older, but they turn on and mix just fine. You’d bet they mixed better than some of the newer models. You decide you’ll keep them.

As you lean one of the mixers over to check its condition, you find a small booklet lying underneath the stand. You pick it up, gently setting the mixer back down before you open it to inspect it. It’s a tiny black leatherbound journal with very faded gold lettering in a language you definitely don’t know.

And you? Well, you’re nosey as hell, so you carefully peel back the cover, taking in the elegant writing etched onto the first page.

To my baby boy

There’s some strange writing scrawled beneath this in what looks like English letters. You can’t really tell, but it seems to be some message in whatever language this is. You turn a couple of pages and let your eyes roam over what’s written within. The rest of the pages you can read fairly easily as they’re in English. You can see immediately that these are recipes. The booklet is full of pastry dishes, both sweet and savory. They appear to be foreign pastries and you feel your heart race with excitement as you imagine making them because while you were adventurous with your baking, you’re positive you haven’t tried to make any of these. 

And Nanami did want to sample your baking, so why not give him something he’s not going to see in your portfolio?

Eagerly, you begin moving through the rest of the kitchen equipment, taking out what you need to begin.

- - - - - -

The kitchen is full with the smell of fresh dough baking. The quiet hum of the ovens working calms you as you sift through the recipe in the booklet you’d found earlier. You decided to make one of your original creations while also trying your hand at this new mystery pastry in case Mr. Nanami liked both…or one…or none. Shit, you didn’t want to imagine him not liking either.

You stare down at the ingredients already in the mixing machines.

“Alright. So, water, 2 large eggs, a teaspoon of salt, unsalted butter, active dry yeast…” You read through the remaining list of ingredients until you reach the end. “And now…flour?” You squint down at the notebook, the words scribbled messily on the paper, time having faded the ink. You can’t really make out the measurements written out. It looks like 2 ½ cups. You’ll try it and hey, if it doesn’t work, you’ll simply adjust the recipe to find the right mix. Easy.

Just as you’re sorting through the measuring cups, Nanami emerges from his office with your journals, mouth set in its usual hard line as he makes his way to you. He sets the books down, and you swear you see him inhale the sweet scent of the pastries currently baking in the oven before softly exhaling. You open your mouth to say something before quickly shutting it because he’s back to business in about .02 seconds. You really can’t read this guy, so you don’t try to. You redirect your focus back on to your task.

“These look good,” he tells you, his finger tapping on the book stacked on top. “I placed a post-it note on the recipes I think may work for the soft opening, but I’d like for you to make a sample of them beforehand. Maybe just a few a day.”

You nod, acknowledging his request but far too focused on scooping your guesstimate of flour. Nanami eyes you carefully, brown eyes staring as you carefully run your finger over the top of the flour. The excess falls carelessly onto the table and just before you pour it in, Nanami speaks, his voice halting your movements.

“What are you making now?”

“Hmm?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Oh, something called…” you peer down at the booklet, “Wee-ner-brod?” You’re one hundred percent positive you butchered that pronunciation, but how do you even pronounce ‘wienerbrød’? 

Clearly Nanami knows because he surprisingly lets out an amused chuckle before he asks, “Wienerbrød?” With what you assume is perfect pronunciation. And you’re not sure why, but the sound of his deep baritone laugh makes your stomach twist in a strangely pleasant way.

“Yes! That!” You point to Nanami with your free finger. “I’m making…” you stumble your way through the pronunciation again and get another small laugh from Mr. Nanami which makes your own lips curl up in a smile.

“I didn’t know you knew how to make Danish pastries.”

“I don’t, but you don’t learn without trying.”

“True. What step are you on now?” Nanami asks curiously, coming up to stand next to you. This close to him, you can truly see just how large he is. Not to mention, he smells incredible. You ignore the way the mix of the aroma of baked goods and his cologne almost makes your eyes want to roll back. You’d never smelled something so tantalizing before.

Nanami calls your name and you clear your throat, trying to re-focus.

“Oh, um…well I’ve added mostly everything and now I need to incorporate the flour - about 2 ½ cups.”

“Your calculation is off.” He affirms gently, eyeing the measuring cup in your hand.

You snort, “Are you suddenly an expert in Danish baking or something?”

“I can throw a few things together.” He says and you peek over to see him rolling the sleeves of his very nice (and probably very expensive) shirt up to his elbows. Your eyes roam over, drinking in the sight of those thick veins that you couldn’t get out of your head over the weekend protruding from his forearms, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement and you wonder for a moment what it would be like to grab onto those arms while he –

“As I was saying,” Nanami’s quiet voice interrupts your reverie. “2 ½ cups is close, but you actually need 2 ¾ cups for this recipe.” He reaches in front of you to grab a ¾ measuring cup and again, you’re assaulted with the scent of his cologne. Your mind erupts with thoughts of nothing appropriate for an employee to be thinking about their boss, but you can’t help it!

You blame it on that damn smile of his and that laugh. It’s thrown you off of your game.

Nanami takes the measuring cup you’re holding and replaces it with another. “You also need to use your hands to mix this.”

You might faint.

“Is that…” you lick your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Is that completely necessary?”

Nanami slowly adds small amounts of flour into the mixer bowl while kneading with his other hand. “It’s time consuming, of course, but it allows for more control over the dough. You can feel the dough's texture…if it’s too dry or if it’s too wet. From there you can determine if more water or more flour is needed.” You watch as his brows furrow in concentration, a little surprised by his knowledge around dough. Though it shouldn’t be surprising given that he grew up in this very same bakery. Of course he’d know.

And once again, your stomach does somersaults.

Damnit, he was definitely going to need to stay out of the kitchen if you were going to stay employed here.

As Nanami continues working through the recipe, you chat idly about general things. He tells you a bit about his time as a businessman, but doesn’t elaborate on what exactly led him to own a bakery. And you tell him a bit about yourself, trying to keep the conversation light as this was the most you’d both interacted since your interview and you’re surprised by how well it’s going. You don’t want to ruin it by poking and prodding.

As the conversation goes on, you watch him very carefully as he works the dough, ignoring the way your heart races watching him do the very thing you do almost daily.

“The end result should be somewhat sticky,” he states.

And oh god, something was getting sticky alright…and it lay between your legs. Your eyes are glued to the bulging muscles of Nanami’s forearms working the flour into a thick doughy substance between his large, thick fingers. Your gaze moves up his stupidly sexy arms, to his biceps straining against his shirt and you imagine him flexing so hard, it rips to shreds, falling in tatters to the floor. The cartoonish image almost makes you want to laugh. And you would have if your eyes hadn’t continued their journey, higher to his tight shoulders moving in circles as he presses his palms into the dough. Higher to the tension in his jaw, the muscles rippling as he grits his teeth with focus. The kitchen suddenly feels unbearably hot and you’re not sure if it’s the ovens running causing the temperature to rise or the view in front of you.

Nanami had never mentioned he knew how to bake. But why would he? It was your job to know. You also never thought to ask after the sour note your interview ended on despite you still being offered the position. You could not stand him upon first meeting and now here you were practically drooling into this batter over how incredibly sexy he was when he was baking.

Nanami slowly pours flour in again as he kneads the dough with expert precision. The way he grips it in his hands, the way his fingers deftly sprinkle flour into the mix. You wonder what else those big hands can do.

The oven timer dings and you snap out of your lewd thoughts, pretty sure sweat is forming on your forehead from your fantasies. You spin around quickly to slide on oven mitts before you pull the pans from the oven. You’d chosen to make miniature fruit tarts with a vanilla pastry cream. A simple recipe, but absolutely to die for. Setting the tray down, you return to Nanami’s side just as he finishes kneading the dough.

And you try to hide the frown pulling at the corner of your lips when you realize you’d lost your perfect view.

He moves to the sink to wash the remaining dough from his hands, returning with plastic wrap to cover the mixing bowl. “I hope you weren’t planning on completing that today,” He says before turning to head toward the walk-in refrigerator. When he emerges, you shoot him a questioning look.

“I was going to let the dough rise for a few hours while I worked on some other things.”

He hums in acknowledgment, but shakes his head. “For this dough, you need to do a long rise for the best result. Overnight is best.”

“Okay, you’re the expert Danish pastry baker apparently,” you tease, earning you another small chuckle from him and you feel your face heat up at the sound.

What is with you today?

“How did you come up with the idea to make Wienerbrød anyway?” He questions suddenly. “Just seems a bit random given what recipes you’d given me to review.”

“Oh!” You rush back over to the mixers excitedly and grab the booklet, holding it up for Nanami to see, a wide grin on your face. “I found this under one of the mixers. It has some strange language I can’t read in the front of it…I’m assuming it’s Danish? But some delicious sounding recipes from what I could understand when I skimmed through. I decided this would be a good idea to take myself out of my comfort zone to try something new.”

Nanami takes a step forward, squinting hard at the little journal in your hands. Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly and he snatches the book from your hold. He opens it to the first page, where the foreign message is scrawled down before he snaps the book shut, his lips pursing in displeasure.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in clear irritation. “Next time you find something that is very clearly a personal belonging, please bring it to me before you take it upon yourself to poke through something that isn’t yours,” he snaps, his voice clipped.

The shift in tone takes you aback.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami. It just seemed to belong to someone who knew their way around baking so I–”

“I didn’t ask for the reasoning behind your nosiness,” he cuts you off and you feel your own irritation begin to slowly rise. “Is this a habit of yours? Digging through people’s belongings and taking things that aren’t yours?”

You scoff, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “If you’d let me finish, I’m trying to apologize –”

“I don’t want an apology. I want you to show up here, bake and leave. Not spend your time digging through someone else’s belongings.”

You inhale sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. This conversation has taken an unpleasant turn and the last thing you want to do is have a blow up with your boss. You feel like you’ve actually made progress with him today and this feels like a setback waiting to happen.

“Again, Mr. Nanami, that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to try something new. I had no idea this book…” you wave your hand in his direction. “...would be such a sore spot for you.”

At this, Nanami seems to bristle. “My sore spot,” he stresses the words, “is nosey employees who don’t just do the job I asked them to do. I asked you to make a sample pastry –”

“And I did,” you cut him off, gesturing to your tarts cooling on the table. “And I had enough time to try my hand at something new, which is why I wanted to try something new and present it to you.”

You sigh when Nanami meets your response with silence.

“What’s the issue here? You had no problem with helping me make this until you saw that book,” you say, pointing at the small black journal he holds. Your gazes lock in an intense staredown and even as Nanami annoys you, you can’t help but find his frustratingly pretty brown eyes completely mesmerizing. 

Ugh, stop.

“The issue,” Nanami stresses, “is you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Excuse me? It’s just a recipe book. Why are you so upset about it? Is it yours or something?”

“Again, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Mr. Nanami, with all due…respect,” you grit out the last word because he was really starting to piss you off, “if we’re going to be working together as closely as we are, there needs to be some trust here. It’s just a recipe book. I apologize for overstepping, but you can tell me why referencing this book to make Weenerbrod is such a big deal.”

You could swear you see the ghost of a smile on his lips just before he rolls his eyes, correcting your pronunciation of the pastry again, just as he turns his back to you. “You are my employee, I am your employer and that’s it. My helping you to bake a simple bread does not make us friends. Please complete the sample pastries I requested of you and we can reconvene once they’re finished. End of discussion.”

Nanami heads to his office without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You can only watch him disappear from your sight, seething. Left standing in the kitchen alone after yet another faceoff with your new boss, you’re suddenly reminded of your earlier conversation with Shoko.

Just try not to let him walk all over you. You’ve worked with plenty of dickheads before. What’s one more?

You resist going after Nanami and giving him a piece of your mind, instead following his instructions to finish your samples. You won’t push him. Clearly that little book meant something to him and he had no intention of sharing. And he was right. It wasn’t your business to know…

…But you can’t help feeling upset that the light mood of earlier is now gone.

You sigh, ignoring the pit in your stomach as your anger begins to subside. Instead, you move to the walk in refrigerator, gathering the ingredients to make the vanilla cream for your tarts.

Your mind is still racing with the conversation that just took place even as you mix your ingredients and pack the cream into the icing decorating bags. You realize for the first time since meeting Nanami that he wasn’t only this stoic tyrant that enjoys barking orders. He was someone with interests, someone with depth, someone who clearly enjoyed the art of baking the same way you do. You saw the look in his eyes as he guided you through making this pastry. And while you’ve barely known Nanami, you’re familiar with the look on someone’s face when they’ve participated in their passion. He looked…happy. Clearly, there’s more to Nanami than you know.

More to him than what he was willing to show you. For now. 

You’re annoyingly positive.

Shoko’s words make you roll your eyes as they echo in her head. Because you know she’s right.

[hazymoonlinh]

Art.

Logos x Reader

(Reader can be doctor if you want)

Why am I cooking this at 2AM 💀🤟

…

___

“Who should you love?”

It was a title of a post that y/n saw one day. It was a boring night after all, so she didn’t scroll down, instead, she keeps reading it.

You should love a poet, a musician, a painter.

An artist.

Because when they love you, they will create masterpieces of you.

Y/n thinks this is something that only happened in stories, so she just let out a silent chuckle.

But oh now how wrong that is.

Unknowingly to her, she’s now the muse of one.

That man, that artist was Aefanyl.

And you too, are an artist of love.

___

Logos will not admit it to anyone, but you've become his muse. The way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you smile.

Everything about you is a masterpiece to him, one that he wants to commit to memory, to write poems, to immortalize it with words...

But most importantly, to hold you close to his chest, to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his, the feel of your breathing, the sound of his name...

His name, on your lips.

He feels... inspired... to write. For the first time in a while, Logos feels the inspiration hit him. He knows what he wants to write. That spark of inspiration he hadn't felt in quite awhile.

His pen moved with new found vigor, his words flowing...

It's you.

Logos use a bone pen to elegantly cast incantation, a bone flute to let the banshee's music echo.

Being a Sarkaz means using even those things to fight, to accept the blood flowing in his veins, to fight for eternity without rest.

The talented young Banshee has known it since he has awareness of his surroundings.

But now,

He finds himself writing poems with that pen, instead of casting spells or incantation.

Or playing a tune for you to hear, this time the song doesn’t burn his blood anymore.

_____

You haven’t touch the brush for a very long time, it has become dusty under a pile of old documents. But now, you saw yourself painting him, the brushstrokes are a bit different.

He has the most beautiful appearance that you have ever seen. Even prettier than a lot of woman.

Delicate features as if crafted by the gods themselves, long eye lashes, soft lips, smooth skin.

His red iris-a red iris is truly mesmerizing, almost otherworldly in its intensity. Its vivid hue is captivating, exuding a sense of mystery and rare beauty.

The deep, rich color draws you in like a gemstone glowing with an inner fire, making it impossible to look away. It’s a bold and stunning feature that leaves a lasting impression, hinting at stories untold behind those eyes.

After finishing the painting, you feel a pride in your chest. But what do you do with it now? Whatever, let’s just hang it in your room.

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

________

Logos once wish that his mother would sing him the elegy if he dies in the battlefield, that way he would be in the arms of his kind until the end.

But now, with you here, he wishes to live a bit longer, praying to himself.

“Please, let me stay with her until the very end.”

He wants you to also sing the elegy. Logos's mind is filled with the thought of you. That was his new wish, with the thought that if he's to die one day, he'll die at least knowing you'll be singing for him...

Love still bloom in this doomed world, like how he still finds his way back to you after every battle he faced. In your arms, he’s not the lord of the Banshee, nor Logos, just Aefanyl.

He loves all of it. The way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you hold him. He loves it all. He loves *you.*

The way you kiss him, the sounds you make, the way you hold him close, the way you wrap your legs around him. The way he gets to hold you close, to feel your breathing and your heart next to his.

He can't seem to get enough of it.

_____

He finishes writing, quietly setting his pen and paper aside before gently holding you close against his chest, his lips pressing gently against your forehead.

(It’s 3:30 now bye 💀)

[billie-black]

Thread of odd connections between Ikora, Elsie and Eris

I was scrolling through concept art when I noticed that, despite not being so in-game, The Stranger's rifle is Branded as a Cassoid weapon. This wouldn't mean much, bungie tends to use decals at random, except-

The curse of osiris variant, The Machina Dei 4, is also branded with a slightly altered version of the Cassoid logo, which I think proves that it has been upgraded with components from the foundry.

But let's put a pin on that and talk about another Cassoid weapon, The Invective shotgun, Ikora's signature weapon. The Invective has an ornament called Iconoclast, a word which here means "Destroyer of images used in religious worship." This nomenclature is very similar to-

The Vex Mythoclast, a weapon which, thanks to its sister weapon, The Worldline Zero (which coincidentally also has a prophecy variant), we know to be made by Elsie Bray. Canonically, we earn the Mythoclast as part of-

the "Not forged in light" quest, which ends with Elsie gifting us the No time to explain. A weapon which eventually ends back up in her hands and she gifts to us again earlier in the timeline as-

The stranger's rifle, which hangs around until it becomes the Machina Dei 4 (later Adhortative). And the prophecy attached to the Machina Dei 4 desribes Eris Morn and the events of Shadowkeep, when Eris discovers stasis and starts using the darkness.

A charnel but effulgent orb.

beacon in a loathsome dark.

Fêted, fetid corpses rise.

a too-long-absent gibbous spark.

Now, it's generally accepted that No time to explain (and all it's variants by proxy) was created at some future point in a distant timeline, this is incorrect. Ghost specifically points out that "parts" of it shouldn't exist, because the rifle itself is a common suros frame.

Going back to The Invective, you're probably more familiar with its legendary sister, The Comedian, and its D2 counterpart, Deadpan Delivery. The Comedian's flavor text reads "A. A ha. A ha ha ha. A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha" In D1 the joke wasn't really clear, but with the addition of a lore tab in D2, the joke has become the vanguard's falling victim to a hive god's deceit. Now, let's take a little trip to The dark future.

In The dark future, Beyond light never happened, Eramis was allowed to grow her armies and master stasis, which led to a massive attack on the city by Cabal remnants, Savathûn, and the glorious House Salvation, all masterminded by Eris Morn, who up to that point was believed to be an ally, but had been corrupted by stasis and the darkness.

Coming back to our timeline, let's look at differences between our case exotics and their variants. Elsie's rifle has undergone many more modifications than Invective. Matter of fact, Invective has barely undergone any changes from its default. It's painted red, AND It has tape wrapped the handle and the grip, just like No time to explain. (I know I'm talking about grip tape right now but please don't go, it gets better, I promise)

It's a weak link, many weapons have grip tape, but I think many of these small details add up and point to The Iconoclast being one of Elsie's gifts. Let's review the similarities between Iconoclast and other gifts from Elsie.

>It's sourced from one of the city foundries and later received Cassoid upgrades (Invective and it's variants are nadir products)

>It has grip tape where the original does not.

>Mythoclast and Iconoclast are very similar terms and could point to a connection.

>It has a perpetual ammo function, like No time to explain and The Mythoclast.

But we should also look at Iconoclast within it's own context. Invective being her weapon, what does it mean for Ikora? She's never been been known to combat or really oppose any sort of religion, at least that I can find. And let's make it clear, the gun is not the Iconoclast. Just like the Mythoclast is not The Mythoclast. The weapons, in this case, are named for the wielder. You kill Atheon and so you become the Mythoclast, the gun is more of symbol. So, what religious figure is Ikora supposed to kill in order to become the Iconoclast?

Well, just this season, the hive have come out with a brand spanking new god, one very close to Ikora. Now I don't think Ikora is going to kill Eris. Eris would need to do something completely heinous for her to even consider that. Like, idk, bombarding the last city with House Salvation and the shadow legion... i. e., what happens in the dark timeline.

Look, I really don't believe Eris is going to turn evil all the sudden, that would be character assasination of the highest magnitude. But from Ikora's point of view? She has a supposed time traveller yelling at her that she's letting everything go sideways.

So my theory is that Elsie took Ikora's Invective from some other failed timeline (possibly the one where they smooch) and gave it to Ikora as the Iconoclast, along with the idea that alternate Ikora ruined everything because she failed to act and put Eris down when she could.

And this is where Deadpan Delivery comes in. You see, Ikora doesn't use invective anymore, and she doesn't use the Comedian. She exclusively wields Deadpan Delivery. Now, I know this was probably just the animators being faithful to her character, seeing how she prefers shotguns-

But the retroactive additions to the Comedian's lore, outside my crazed theories, implies a statement from Ikora. The Comedian's joke is the vanguard falling victim to a hive god's deceit, and in the dark timeline that god, the Savathûn figure, is Eris morn. And so-

By maining Deadpan delivery Ikora is subtextually saying "It's not funny. I'm not laughing. I don't subscribe to the narrative put forward by the comedian or Elsie. I trust Eris". And by rejecting the Comedian she's additionally disavowing it's older sister, The Invective, which is a symbol of the gung ho attitude which defined her in her youth. And wether my Iconoclast theory is correct or not, we can definitively say: Ikora is against what it represents , she is a guardian, and she will make a new fate no matter what.

[diminuel]

Sup! So like I know the Stinky Child AU is mostly just a happy fluffy Everybody Lives And The Fam Is Together AU but, and idk if you've answered this before, how do the Vivi and Robin plotlines go? As in, I'm assuming Crocodile is chill and ain't attempting manufacturing civil war to take over BUT I gotta know how it goes when it comes to Robin cause it'd be so funny to see these poor parents react to YOUR SON AND HIS CREW BEAT UP CP9 AND DECLARED WAR ON *THE WORLD* FOR THEIR FRIEND (who may or may not have been your assistant Wani)

The problem with my art and AUs is that I make AUs of AUs.

Stinky Child AU has the premise of "what if Crocodile and Dragon raised ASL" and it tries to stick closer to canon - i.e. the world cannot know of the relation between them.

And then there's an AU of that premise where Dragon and Crocodile make their kids everybody else's problems *lol* (i.e. nothing bad happens, it's fluff and comedy)

I've rambled before on Alabasta which you can read about here!

Regarding Robin. Crocodile would not tell Dragon about her, even though he knows Dragon has been looking for her. He's informed Robin about that probably, but he most likely gave Robin a promise that he'd keep her secret and that means also from Dragon. And he wouldn't try to kill her of course. When she refused to tell him what is written on the Poneglyph he accepts it as the final nail in the coffin that everything he's tried to do in Alabasta has ultimately failed. It's over. I'm not entirely sure how the fight against Luffy would go, but I assume that Crocodile suggested that Robin should join Luffy when everything is said and done, which she eventually does.

And Crocodile would already be in prison when the whole Ennies Lobby incident happens but Dragon would probably be very pleased because he's a "fuck the Government" kind of guy . Even though Luffy does it just to save one person, so his motivation is quite different. Dragon will take it anyway. That's probably the thing to put a smile on his face after his husband got his ass sent to Impel Down and Dragon can't really do anything about it. (Though the joy probably doesn't last too long because Ace gets sent there too and oh god. But I'm getting ahead of myself *lol*)

(And in the comedy version, Vivi and Robin most likely grew up as sort of family to Luffy as well. There's an AU out there where Vivi is Crocodile's biological child. Whether it's this one or not I don't know. I'll let people decide that *lol* (In every AU there's at least one break up between Dragon and Crocodile so we can sneak in some chaos.) That said, Crocodile would find Robin very early on because Dragon is looking for her. If Dragon makes puppy eyes about this poor child, Crocodile is getting him this poor child. Congrats on your new child. Declaring war on the world - or the world government - for a friend/ sister is a very Luffy thing to do, so nobody is surprised. Sengoku probably thinks about resigning because this is getting too stupid for him. What did CP9/ the World Government think was going to happen??! Don't they know what kind of family Robin has? Haha.)

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Can you please do anal with Klaus and Y/n

Or something like that

Maybe klaus fucks her with a vibrator up her ass

Of course if you’re uncomfortable I understand, after reading the highschool klaus I thought you might be someone who would write it

Modern!Highschool Klaus M. Pt.4

Warning: Smut! Anal sex, Squirting, Dirty talk, and tooth rotting levels of Dd/Lg sweetness from Daddy!Klaus

Masterlist

‘Okay, let’s go mail them!’ Y/n grinned, hopping up and down excitedly, somehow she was more excited about me going to Art school than I was.

‘I still don’t like that you paid for this, I-‘

‘You need to let it go Daddy, I’ve already paid for your applications and it’s only to 3 schools. All of which you’re going to get in so it’ll be worth it!’

We’ve been together for a week now and in the last week Y/n has insisted I apply to art schools that I’m never going to get into. I know that she wants me to pursue my dream but I don’t know if I can take the rejection. All of the schools I would consider going to are extremely prestigious and competitive, they also only accept 150 kids every year but she insists that I try. I agreed to 3 of the applications of which she has helped me with the past few days, my top school however I refused to even apply. The price for the application was 150 dollars and Y/n had paid for the 3 I was sending already which cost 120. I hate her spending money on me, I should be spoiling her, that’s my job as her boyfriend, then again her parents gave her money instead of caring for her so she really didn’t need me to.

‘I love how optimistic you are for me Babygirl.’ I loved that she believed in me so much, though I hated how much she doubted herself. She had gone on and on to me about how dumb she is and I assumed she was failing out of school when she has a 3.8 GPA, however I convinced her to apply to schools in the same areas as the ones I am, with any luck we will get to at least be close if not get an apartment together.

‘I’m not optimistic, I’m realistic! You’re fucking talented Daddy, they would be stupid as fuck not to pick you!’ God I love this girl.

After mailing the applications for the both of us we ended up back at my house where Y/n had been staying with me for 4 days straight now.

‘You realize it’s going to be your fourth night staying here in a row, right?’ I questioned and she looked up at me from where she had sat on my bed, pulling out her math book.

‘Yeah…?’

‘Don’t you think we should talk about that?’ I changed into a pair of sweats and removed my shirt, getting comfortable to not do anything for the rest of the night since it was Friday and we could lounge around the entire weekend.

‘Oh…um, okay. I mean, I can go. I didn’t realize that you-‘

‘What? No! Y/n, no! I mean we should talk about you bringing stuff here if you’re going to be staying from now on. I can move some stuff and you can have a couple of drawers, you can bring your shampoo and shit so you don’t keep going home to shower. The shower thing is becoming very inconvenient as I would very much like to take a shower with my girlfriend, we are doing that tomorrow whether you like it or not.’ I teased, pushing her back onto the bed and lifting her legs and wrapping them around my waist as I crawled over top of her.

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes, it is.’ Her eyebrows went up before I leaned into her neck, sucking a dark red mark onto her skin.

‘I suppose I’ll just have to get used to the idea then, won’t I?’ I grunted an affirmation while continuing to kiss her neck, trailing my hands up under her shirt. ‘We can go and I’ll pack a bag tomorrow if you’re okay with it. My parents won’t care, probably won’t even notice if I’m perfectly honest.’ She said it as if it was normal and she didn’t care but I knew deep down it bothered her a lot that her parents didn’t give a shit about her. ‘My god you’re a fucking horn dog!’ She teased, feeling my hard cock pressing against her pussy.

‘Yes, we know this. I’m a 17 year old boy, it’s common sense to assume that…I love you.’ I had previously told her that I love her in passing, teasingly but also serious however she looked at me shocked as she could feel how deeply I meant it.

‘Nik-‘

‘I love you. I’m sorry you don’t have enough people telling you that because you deserve it and it’s their loss that they don’t get to know what an amazing, generous and wonderful girl you are but I love you Y/n.’ She nodded slowly as if taking it in before a huge smile overtook her face.

‘I love you too Nik. I love you so much.’ She pulled me down to press her lips to mine hard. ‘You know what else?’ She asked against my lips and I pulled back to look at her.

‘What?’

‘I trust you.’ I felt honored by that, I know she has a hard time trusting people so to know she trusts me is a wonderful feeling.

‘I trust you too, and I would never hurt you. You’re my Princess.’ I trailed my lips down her neck, continuing to suck marks there knowing how much she loves and hates it, constantly having to cover them with makeup.

‘Maybe we try something new tonight?’

‘Mmm, like what?’ We’d only been together a week but we’d proved to be a very horny and adventurous couple. I couldn’t imagine what she meant by that.

‘Like maybe another hole?’ She whispered as I continued sucking on her skin until my brain caught up to her words and I pulled back, looking down at her in shock.

‘Really? You-you want to-I would need to stretch you out first.’ She shook her head, taking my hand and bringing it down to her pussy, my fingers grazing something against her asshole and I quickly realized something was already stretching her little hole out for me. ‘Fuck!’ I practically ripped her shorts and panties from her body to see the green jewel on the end of the butt plug that she knew was my favorite color. ‘You’re so fucking perfect, you know that? Are…are you sure?’ She nodded, grinning excitedly and I didn’t need to ask again, pulling my sweats and boxers down before moving to grab the lube I had in my drawer. I placed the bottle beside me before leaning down, ready to shove my face into her cunt when she pulled on my hair.

‘If you want to do that later, fine, but I have had a butt plug in my ass for almost 2 hours, and I’m already dripping. If you don’t fuck me now, I swear to God, someone is going to!’ Her tone was playful but I could tell how serious she really was and I growled, pulling the green jewel from her ass and hearing her whimper as it popped free.

‘Fuck!’ I cursed, seeing her hole open slightly and quickly squirting the bottle on my fingers, pushing them into her and feeling how tight she still was before practically filling my hand with it and lathering my cock in the slick substance. ‘You tell me to stop and I will, okay?’ She nodded firmly, determination covering her face as I lined my cock up with her hole and began pushing in, hissing at the tight squeeze. I had thought her pussy would kill me when I fucked her the first time, and now as I pushed all the way into her hole I’m thinking I may be reincarnated during this she’s so damn tight. ‘GodDammit! How many times have you done this?! Fuck you’re tight!’

‘Never…’ she whimpered and I froze, looking down at her in shock. I had just assumed, clearly incorrectly, that she had tried everything with James…and here I am in her ass for the first time.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that-‘

‘Don’t make it a big deal, I never trusted him…I love you Nik.’

I just stared at her for a moment in shock. It was one of the very few times she didn’t call me “Daddy” while I’m inside of her and it gave me butterflies in my stomach. ‘Y/n, I…my God Princess, I love you so fucking much!’ I leaned down to press my lips to hers and as I did we both cried out at the pressure.

‘I wish it had always been you, wish I could have given you my virginity-‘ I covered her mouth with my hand, resting my forehead onto hers as I took a deep breath.

‘You’ve given me everything that means anything Y/n, virginity is a fake construct created by men to shame women. You’ve given me your love and trust, your body is just a plus…a fantastic plus that I’m deeply in love with-‘ she smacked my ass as I teased her and made her giggle which only made me grunt as she squeezed my cock when she laughed. ‘Okay. Breathe.’ She nodded as I leaned on my arms and pulled back out of her, pushing back in again and not being able to stop the smile as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. ‘You’re so fucking beautiful.’ I pushed back in 2 more times before speeding my pace up a bit as she began to start moving as well, relaxing under me as she grew used to the new feeling and wrapped her arms around my neck.

‘Yes Daddy! Your cock feels so good! Ahh!’ I knew I wasn’t going to last long and I was determined to make her cum before I did, also knowing we would definitely be doing this again.

‘Are you gonna cum for Daddy, Princess? You gonna cum from Daddy fucking this tight little hole?’

‘Yeah…’

‘Yeah? Daddy’s fucking your tiny babyhole right now, I know that makes you want to cum! You need it!’ My hands gripped her thighs and lifted her legs up, pushing them onto my shoulders and she wailed! I shoved into her once more before her back arched and she squirt all over my lower body and the blanket which was the single sexiest thing I believe I had ever fucking seen and not a second later I was cumming right along side her, filling her asshole as full as I possibly could, crashing our lips together as we came.

I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed in that position, unable to move until I felt her shiver against me. Being covered in cum in a basement with the air conditioner on is a bad combination, however I keep it on almost always as Y/n likes to sleep in the cold and be able to snuggle into my warm body under heavy, fuzzy blankets. It makes me feel like I’m in the arctic sometimes but I like how happy she is when we cuddle under 6 Sherpa blankets with a heavy comforter on top.

‘Hold on gorgeous, hold on.’ I pulled myself out of her gently and moved to the bathroom, washing my cock off from the pint of lube and cum before getting a wet cloth. I grabbed 2 pairs of my boxers and 2 shirts before quickly cleaning her off as well.

‘Don’t feel gorgeous, feel sticky.’ She mumbled, grimacing as I wiped her thighs, before sighing.

‘Well you are, gorgeous as always. Daddy’s perfect Babygirl. You’re the most perfect girl that’s ever walked this earth and I am the luckiest man in existence that you’ve decided that I am worthy of getting to love you.’ Her face blushed a deep red and I loved seeing how flustered she got when I said things like that. She deserved all the love in the world and for some reason she had never gotten any until me, so I will be making sure she knows how perfect she is every chance I get. ‘How do you feel? I didn’t harm you, did I?’ I wondered, lifting her legs and maneuvering the boxers up her body to cover her before sitting her up and pulling the shirt over her arms and head.

‘No Nik, I’m okay. A little sore but totally fine, wonderful, absolutely perfect! My Daddy made me feel so good! I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before.’

‘Well that’s good, because you squirt all over me.’ I smiled, kissing her nose before seeing her eyes widen and quickly pressed our lips together before she could do something stupid like apologize to me. ‘It was hot, I would say the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen but I think watching my cock push into your asshole has to be the sexiest thing.’ I brushed her hair out with the brush on the bedside table before putting it up for her and removing the damp blanket on top of the bed that we had been on, laying a new one on top and crawling in beside her.

‘I love you Daddy…promise me we’re going to be together forever.’

I pulled her close, resting her head on my chest and kissed her head, my hand rubbing up her back. ‘I promise Baby, it’s you and me, Always and Forever.’

4 Months Later

‘Nik! Where are you?!’ I heard Y/n call from the front door. She had officially moved in a week after moving her stuff into my room and after seeing how much of an effect she had on me my mother didn’t mind at all, loving my girlfriend like her own child nearly instantaneously.

‘Kitchen with Elijah and Kol!’ I shouted back, pulling the potatoes out of the oven and finishing playing up our dinner for the night before my brothers tore into the rest.

‘Hey.’ She greeted, pulling me close and kissing me excitedly. ‘I have something for you.’ She told me, holding up a letter.

We had gotten all of our college letters back last week and surprisingly I had been accepted to all of them like she said I would and we had decided on Columbia university. It had an amazing arts program and she was accepted to a school not far, but as she seemed to be holding up a college admissions letter I was confused.

‘What’s this? I got all my school letters back.’ I said just as Rebekah walked in, hugging Y/n in greeting, they had become very good friends despite my pleading them not to.

‘What’s this about school? I thought you got accepted.’

‘I did…what did you do?’ I questioned her and now everyone was looking at us.

‘Well you adamantly refused to apply to the school you wanted to go to most of all and so I paid to get the admissions forms and forged your application. All I had to do was fill in your information and make a portfolio of 20 of your most recent pieces. I picked my favorites…I used my painting as well.’ She blushed and I just stared at her for a moment.

‘That cost $150 Y/n! I told you I didn’t want to do that and you picked paintings I didn’t want to use on top of that?! Why would you-‘ I huffed out a sigh, running my fingers through my hair and turning away to put the dirty dishes in the sink.

‘Rhode Island School of Design.’ Elijah read, having taken it from her.

‘He’s afraid he won’t get into his dream school so he pretended that the price was the reason he didn’t apply.’ She told him and I turned around, glaring.

‘You Spent $150 Dollars On Me For A Rejection Letter!’ She flinched and I instantly relaxed my body as much as I could, never wanting her to be afraid of me. ‘Why would you do this? I told you I wasn’t going to apply and you fought for it but I still said ‘no’. Why would-‘

‘You’ve been accepted.’ Elijah spoke and I spun to look at him, staring for about 5 seconds before snatching the letter and reading over it to see that he was right. It read that they were impressed with my assortment of unique art pieces.

‘I got accepted to a college about 5 miles away if that’s any help in making your decision for-‘ I cut her off by shoving my lips to hers roughly and hugging her to my body, face in my neck.

‘I’m so sorry. Thank you Y/n. Thank you!’ I took hold of her face in my hands and felt like I fell in love with her smiling face all over again. ‘You believed in me when I didn’t, this whole time. I still don’t like you spending money on me but…thank you. Looks like we’re going to Rhode Island next year.’

‘Damn straight Art Nerd, you ain’t goin’ without me! All those art nerd girls, can’t have you being stolen away.’ She teased.

‘Not a chance in Hell Princess. You’re mine. Always and Forever.’

[what-the-actual-wizardry]

Wizards: A Controversy

I acknowledge, full well, that I am going to step on some toes with this one. Some of what I'm about to say will definitely rub people the wrong way. Before I begin, I want to say that I agree wholeheartedly that my stance is uncommon, morally questionable, and faithless. I am not here to question your faith, nor your validity, however- only to express how I have coped with my own. I've said before that I self-identify as a wizard. Not a magician/magickian- ceremony isn't my tallest teacup. Not a witch- the line that determines what makes a witch can get shaky when you examine the claims of influential witchcraft figures. Not a sorcerer- my magic isn't inherently malfeasant. Not a druid- I love nature, but I fear the wild. I am a wizard, which to me, means two things: I am really good at knowing things that other people don't bother to learn; and I live in a world where idea and analogy are inherently tied to matter and action. I have a saying: "Wizards are not good con men- con men are just bad wizards." The reason I say this is because I don't believe in magick. I use the Crowleyan spelling here because for as much as I believe that I can affect the world tangentially, through symbolic words, art, and rituals- I know that's a result of interpretation. I am only using magic because that is what I have decided to acknowledge this practice as. And if I can get consistent results in that mindset, I don't need to look at it any deeper than that- most people will see the results and accept, at least, that "The Wizard Did It Somehow". And that's that. The public doesn't care how Granny Fitz makes her famous apple pie, it's still the best damn pie they've ever tasted. We magic-users all talk in a kind of advanced, unspoken-of code, I've found. Aphorism, analogy, and fable all blend to create this rich landscape of phrases that are all too easy to take literally. Running around the forest with friends to restore dopamine becomes 'a moonlit coven ritual.' An anxiety episode or a deep depression that we cannot explain becomes a 'spiritual attack.' Problem solving or brainstorming with a visual aid becomes 'divination.' Therapy is shadow work. Cleaning and airing out our homes is consecration. Doing arts and crafts to deal with a break up is cord-cutting. Stopping to acknowledge our needs for rest and a warm drink is meditation. Our hopes, ambitions, fears, and loves are gods. (Deity work primer post) It never stops. And just in case you're frothing at the mouth with rage that I would dare reduce your spirituality to this- I don't ever want it to. I don't ever think it should. We live through analogies and ideas, and they have re-enchanted our lives, uplifted our mental and physical health, and improved us as people- all because we give enough to ourselves and spaces that we are able to take back from them when we need to, in the form of comfort, and reminders, and something to do with ourselves when we have nothing else. Please know that I am making this post for the little magi, the reluctant wizards, the beautiful curious enchanters- it is so easy to fall prey to pseudoscience and cult behaviors, and equally easy to dismiss this entire thing as a LARP or a farce because "that's not how the world works." Be reasonable, with yourselves and others, I beg you. Let the magical live alongside the mundane, because the 'us and them' is exhausting for everyone involved. It is magic. It is amazing. It is real, valid, useful, moving, empowering, and beautiful. It is not a substitute for the world around you.

Blessings, with love from this long-winded madman.

[queen-of-the-misfit-toys]

Teacher's Pet

Warnings: 18++, implied oral sex (f to m), teacher/student (COLLEGE/UNIVERSITY) dynamic

Word count: 0.7k

This is just a short fun thing because LT in glasses gives off professor vibes 😁.

__________________________________________

"Miss Beckett, will you please explain the institutional theory of art?"

Sophie's head shot up at the mention of her name.

"Ummm…what?"

"Please explain the institutional theory of art to the class. We've only spent the last two hours discussing it."

"I'm not quite…I don't…" She stammered, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"We're all waiting." Benedict smirked.

"I'm going to kill him for this. Oh he is dead!"

Sophie thought as she squirmed in her seat and,finally, shook her head.

"I know you don't know, Miss Beckett, as you've not paid one whit of attention today, or any other day in fact. Please see me immediately after class in my office."

She glared at him, cringing at the snickers and stares from her classmates, as he winked at her and turned to write on the whiteboard. "Alright everyone, your next assignment is due on Tuesday. And please let me know if you need assistance. That's what I'm here for. Have a great weekend!"

"What in the hell was that, Ben? Calling me out in front of everyone? I thought you loved me!" Sophie yelled as she slammed his office door.

"I cannot have you pissing away every class, Soph! If you have any hopes of passing you at least have to pay some attention. Have you even started the paper that's due? I know you haven't been working on it at home. I hope you've used some of your rare study time wisely." He rounded the desk, grabbing her hands. "Our situation is precarious enough, Darling. You shouldn't even be in my class. I can't be seen to show you any favoritism."

"Oh, I don't think anyone could get you on that, Professor Bridgerton! You've been nothing but brutally hard on me and it's not fair! It's not my bloody fault my real professor quit and I was forced to take your class."

"It's not my fault either, Soph! I didn't ask to be the only other art professor who will deign to teach lower level courses. And I'm not being hard on you. I ask no more of you than I do the rest of the students. I just need you to do the fucking work!"

"I'm trying, Benedict, really I am. It's just…just."

"Just what?"

"Art history and theory is fucking boring, Ben! I try and try to find something remotely interesting and I can't! I can barely stay awake during lectures, even with you teaching them. I've even tried imagining you naked in class and it doesn't help. Why do I have to have art? I'm an engineering student for God's sake!"

She slumped into his chair and spun around a few times.

"Can't you let me off just this once, My Love? I promise I'll try, really try, to pay attention and do the assignments. I just don't have the time to do this paper. Not with my graduate project due in two weeks time."

Benedict sighed and came to kneel in front of her.

"Sophie….you know I can't comp you. You must have done something towards it. I assigned it six weeks ago. It's half your grade for the class! And you have to have an art class to graduate, Darling. You don't want to have your big engineering project be all for naught, do you? Hmmm?"

"Will you at least help me a little?"

"Of course I will, Darling. That's what I'm here for. I can't…and won't…do it for you, but I'll guide you to what I want from you. Is that acceptable, my girl?" He stood, pulling her out of the chair and flush to him, and kissed her head. "I'll tell you what. I will cut your paper to 15 pages instead of the twenty-five everyone else is required to do. I can't give you full credit of course but it will still give you a passing grade if you do the rest of the coursework this term. It's the best I can do, Soph."

"I'll take it, Professor Bridgerton. Thank you." She wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled his neck. "Is there any chance for extra points, Professor? Special projects or…duties? Hmmm?" She whispered as she started nibbling on his ear.

"Sophia Maria! You cannot fuck your way into my grade book! The very idea!" He chuckled.

"What about sucking my way in?" She asked as she dropped to her knees, kissing her way down his torso.

"Soph no..nooooo..ohhhhhh, well..ummm." He stammered,his cheeks reddening and his hand landing in her hair.

"I'll take that as a yes, My Love."

[ireallylovepupplies101stuff]

Gods AU Oneshot: Tails and Tales.

Summery: Bendy's not the only one who's not exactly happy to be living in the kingdom of the gods, but maybe a certain kindhearted mug can help things feel not so bad.

--------------

Carrying cleaning supplies in his arms, Bendy walked through the halls of the Dish Gods family castle to go do his next job of the day, when he paused at the sight of Mugman coming from the opposite end of the hall.

Soaking wet and leaving a trail of water behind him.

Looking down at the floor, Bendy looked back up at Mugman with a deadpanned look. “I hope you don’t expect me to clean up after you without you asking.”

When Bendy’s comment caught his attention, Mugman seemed to snap out of his train of thought as he looked behind himself to see what his brother’s servant meant. “Oh! Sorry! Let me clean that up. I’d appreciate the help though if you don’t mind.”

As Mugman approached, Bendy offered him a clean rag and empty bucket as he put the cleaning supplies down and grabbed his own rag to help his friend. “So is there a reason you look like you jumped in a lake fully clothed? Training gone wrong?”

Amused, Mugman chuckled as he did his best to squeeze the water out of his clothes into the bucket. “Nah, I haven’t broken my record in drenching myself by accident with my powers yet. This was all Cala.”

Pausing in soaking up the water on the floor, the demon looked at his friend with a perplexed look. “You, were with Cala? You and I both know she hates the gods, what with her being kidnapped and turned into a pretty art piece against her will.”

Sighing, with his clothes no longer dripping wet, Mugman started drying the floor along with Bendy. “I know, Cuphead thinks I’m being dumb for doing this. I just… I don’t agree with my mom actually accepting Cala as a decorative gift because she’s an actual person, but I can’t really talk with her about it because she’s always so busy. So, I thought I could at least try being nice to Cala and get to know her, so she doesn’t feel all alone.”

“You have noble intentions Mugman, but you can’t get her to talk to you if she doesn’t want to.”

With how Mugman’s head dropped a little at that, Bendy let out a small huff as he patted the demi-god’s shoulder. “Like I said though, you have noble intentions. Just keep being a gentleman. If it doesn’t work out like you hoped, at least you can say you tried and respected her.”

Thanking Bendy for his kind works, Mugman continued to clean up his mess with his friend’s help until he was done and continued with his daily business. Now with that mess cleaned up, Bendy could go do what he was actually supposed to do that day.

Clean the outside of Cala’s tank, ironically.

Entering the room, Bendy looked over at the large tank in the middle of the room, which was about the side of a small sized bedroom made of glass, full of water, sand at the bottom, and a few large rocks. He watched as the mermaid/gorgon, who had her back to the door as he laid on top of one of the large rocks, looked over her shoulder, then perked up at the sight of him. “BENDY!”

Smiling a little, Bendy approached the tank and got to work cleaning. “Hey Cala. How are you?”

“Bored, as always. PLEASE tell me about your day. I don’t care if you spent it scrubbing the floors. It’ll give me some form of entertainment!”

Doing as she asked, Bendy did indeed tell her about his day. Thankfully it was more interesting than just scrubbing the floors. He told her about how Cuphead had started to make Bendy sit down and take it easy whenever the demi-god had breakfast, and even shared his bacon with him as they sat and chatted.

At one point when he mentioned that though, he noticed Cala looking irritated as she crossed her arms. Confused, Bendy asked. “What? What’s wrong?”

Cala huffed. “Nothing, just, these gods think they can do whatever they want with us.”

“Some of them, yes. I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve ticked off some of the schmuck gods here… Cuphead is different though.”

Scowling, the mermaid/Gorgon gave her friend a firm look. “Bendy, he’s making you sit down and eat with him like some kind of forced date!”

Stopping in his work, Bendy put down the rag he was using to clean the tank and looked directly at Cala. “No he isn’t. I’ve said no to Cuphead before, and he’s respected that. He knows if I didn’t want to sit down and eat with him then he can’t force me. If he tried, that wouldn’t be pleasant for either of us.”

It then occurred to him what else Cala said, which made Bendy blush badly. “AND IT’S NOT A DATE! That glassface demi-god keeps making fun of my size! He’s probably trying to fatten me up so I grow more or something!”

As Cala covered her mouth to hide her amused grin, Bendy chose to ignore that as he continued talking. “Look, I don’t blame you for not liking gods considering your situation, but is being angry at all of them when some have nothing to do with this really helping at all?”

Cala’s amusement completely vanished as she frowned and refused to make eye contact. So Bendy continued. “As far as I know, I’m currently your only friend, and I barely have any free time to keep you company. If you befriend a god you think you can trust, you’d have someone new to talk to you, and who knows, maybe that god would help you?”

When Cala didn’t answer, her face full of conflict, the demon sighed and decided to keep working. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Everything is your choice. Just think about it, okay?”

With her staying silent, Bendy let the subject drop as he continued to do his job and talked about his day.

—

Peeking his head into the room where Cala was kept, Mugman hesitated to enter fully.

He doubted Cala would like this at all, but that was okay. If she doesn't, then he’ll respect her wishes and leave her alone.

That doesn’t mean he looked forward to the rejection though.

Taking a deep breath, Mugman completely entered the room. He noticed how Cala looked over her shoulder before quickly turning away again, but he was used to that. So, he continued to do what he had planned to do.

Hearing shuffling going on behind her, Cala curiously looked behind her again. Normally at this point Mugman would at least greet her, so his silence was odd. What she saw him doing made her even more curious. “What are you doing???”

That made the demi-god pause mid action. Looking over the tarp in his hands, Mugman cleared his throat nervously. “I um, thought you’d like this…”

Continuing, Mugman hooked each end of the tarp to the top of Cala’s tank, covering one side of the glass. On Mugman’s side, it just looked like a blank tarp, but on Cala’s side, she could see many pages of paper pinned to the fabric, all of them with writing on it.

Moving to the side of the tank so he could see Cala properly, he watched as the mermaid/gorgon looked surprised as she moved closer to see his handy work. “I figured you were bored… I prepared a lot of stories for you if you finish this one. I-I can ask Bendy to change the papers though! That way I won’t bother you, anymore.”

When Cala didn’t say anything, the demi-god took that as a sign that it was time to go. Sighing quietly, Mugman put on a polite smile. “Take care Cala.”

Stepping away, Mugman was halfway out of the room when he heard her call out to him. “W-wait!”

Stopping, Mugman looked back and saw how Cala had moved to the top of the tank and peaked her head out of the water to see him past the tarp. He patiently waited as she toyed with her, hair, tentacle, and hesitated to speak. “... Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

Mugman gave a small shrug as he played with his blue cloak nervously. “I know. I wanted to.”

“... Why did you pick this story? The title seems interesting.”

Not expecting that, Mugman’s eyebrows went up in surprise, before he smiled and walked back to the tank and explained why he was fond of the particular story. Cala listened closely, and occasionally asked a few questions which Mugman happily answered.

At one point Bendy nearly entered the room, but when he opened the door and saw Mugman and Cala deep in conversation about the story Cala was reading, he smiled and quietly closed the door behind him as he left.

[hoodoo12]

I received a very nice comment on something I posted four years ago (an rp between @clairjohnson and myself). I hadn't read it in years but revisited it and gods above I like this exchange:

The beauty queen looked at him from the corner of her eye, pretending to keep most of her attention on the work in front of her.

He sat where indicated, in the hard straight back chair beside her desk. If he wanted, he could look up and see the filing cabinets, the paths in the rug worn through to the subfloor underneath, the endless stacks of paper, and the hallway where the caseworker’s offices were.

He didn’t want to. He could walk through the place blindfolded. Nothing changed in the Netherworld; it was all slog and dismay. And they thought he was crazy for wanting back out?!

A cigarette appeared in his hand. Sticking it between his lips he glanced up at her question and statement.

“Yeah. The blood’s mine. First from that goddamn teenager and second – ” He broke off there and used lighting the cigarette as an excuse not to finish and admit he’d torn apart his own clones in a fit of rage. “ – never mind. Nothing matters. It’s the same shit for eternity.”

Maria watched, with pointed interest, as he brought the cigarette up to his mouth. Well, at least the blood was his. Less mess for Juno to clean up later.

“Thanks.” She drawled sardonically, bringing her own cigarette into existence. “I’d love one.”

As she took a drag, Maria let his remark sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of how to respond. Most of the dead seemed to be having an on-going crisis – and if Beej had been feeling the same, he’d never let on.

“You’ve always been one for the dramatics. But never nihilism.” She paused, “ – also, did you just say teenager? You know what – I don’t want to know.”

She threw her hand up at that, waving the question off. He was a scumbag, to be sure, but the thought of him being that scummy was not an idea she wanted to entertain.

He’d have felt bad about not offering her a smoke if he was in a different state of mind. As it were, it didn’t even register until she pointed it out. Even then he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. It was easy, however, to fill in the blanks she left out.

“It was a fuckin’ green card thing,” he growled. “Most teens – especially gothy ones who think their existence is the worst of anyone, ever – are dumb as shit. Easy to manipulate. Except this one was too damn clever for her own good. She used – "

It was on the tip of his tongue to admit his naked, desperate desire to be accepted was used effectively against him, but that made sour bile rise in the back of his throat and he had to swallow it down again.

” – ugly art to impale me,“ he corrected after only a brief hesitation. He took a deep drag, and was dismayed to see that some smoke drifted out the hole in his chest. That kid must’ve punctured a lung. He sighed as he pulled at his shirt to try and cover it.

From the corner of his eye he watched her watch him. He didn’t want her pity. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he knew he didn’t want her pity.

Maria felt herself relax at his growled response – pleased to hear he was still a normal scumbag of the con-man variety. She couldn’t hide the twitch of her lips into a smile when he admitted how he kicked the bucket this time around. She’d seen a lot of dumb ways to die, but ugly art was a first. Chuckling through a drag, she eyed the smoke coming out of his chest, causing her lips to curl even further upward.

[tea-the-not-understanding]

Greetings to the person who found my blog.

Welcome, let me introduce myself first before explaining the rules. My name is Tea, it the name that many people referred to call me and pretty simple name to remember. I am basically 18+ and bisexual, He/Him/They/Them.

This blog is all about me having fun with art, drawing and posting to share with you all. It also one of my passions to entertain others but I have some common rules that you must follows.

I accepts

Art trades ( I do love to do trades but please do not go overboard with it. )

Collabs ( I like to share some ideas and do art collabs, etc etc.. )

Roleplay ( Roleplay is what I love to do but it have to be at least appropriate. no 18+ or NSFW because there's minors, but angst is allowed. )

Suggestions ( You can suggest or give me idea what to draw. But for now, Cookie run fandoms, it can be others but I'll reconsidered about it. )

You can send asks to asks about the characters that I am open in this blog. Please keep it appropriate.

What I do NOT accept

Please for the love of god do not send me feet pics. ( I am too done and exhaust from it already )

Asks or Request me to draw NSFW. (There's minor in this blog, I know it. And if you want, it do not come in for free. )

Request to draw your oc/characters. ( I only do it for friends and mutual. If you really want, then considering commission me for it. )( And also, asking me to be your friend first and tell me to draw your oc will get you banned instanly. )

And finally, common sense thing that you must know. No Proshipper, Incest, Homophobic, Racial, Slurs, other bad shit, etc...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now that you have read the rules. I can introduce you to the character that I am open to answers to.

Most of you might be here to ask about Electric eel cookie but there's more then just Electric eel too. Such as Angst au with Longan and Millie, Capsaicin and Prune juice and my oc's/Characters

update/edit. I'll add characters where you can asks or know what characters I own so you can asks/roleplay with

OC

Clockwork cookie : little shit who control time

Timeless cookie : little shit who control time 2

Vanilla Extract cookie : Someone please put him to sleep for once.

Melted fruitcake cookie : He eat too much sometimes.

Forest fire cookie : your pride is too important apparently.

Ancient death thorn cookie : What the fuck are you?

Chai tea cookie : Stop adopting chickens goddammit.

Skullcap Sapphire Butter cookie : LITTLE SHIT NUMBER 1

Cinnamon dust cookie : a bean that need someone to burn some houses for him sometime.

Flaming dust cookie : LITTLE SHIT NUMBER 2

Vortex tea cookie : Someone put him to sleep too.

Ribbon eel cookie : Wake up, you sleep too much.

Rangoon cookie : Stop asking her for nudes you sick fucks.

Guarana cookie : Kinda a little shit?

Mythical salt cookie : Go to horny jail.

Space dust cookie : Your the moon son? how? The moon is still a virgin-

Luna/Moon cookie : introvert to the core.

Little Moon : Eh? What do you want?

SONA

Shooting star : Idiot number 1

Buh : buh

Toxic : the only tea cup for a head character btw

Icing cookie : BIGGEST LITTLE SHIT

Melatonin cookie : don't make him cry...

Shimp / shimp cookie : every body favorite boi!

Here are some option link that You can open to see on the character to asks.

And to those who want to read the side story of the Angst au capsaicin and prune juice. Here's the link as well or you can just click the angst au tag in my blog and you'll find them too.

Anyways, hope you have fun and enjoy your time in my blog. ^^

[shmowder]

Piercing anon back again! I’ll admit my thoughts on Clara were 100% inspired by the fact as a teenager around her age I myself did my own piercing which ended about as well as one would expect it to end. Also didn’t even think of artemy with pierced ears but now I will never get it out of my brain and I shall consider it canon modern au artemy wears a single one in the right ear.

Speaking more on Daniil “prunde” dankovsky he also strikes me as the type who if someone he was with romantically had piercings he’d roll his eyes and go “well I guess they look acceptable on you” but I feel like he’d only really give that pass to minor piercings like a nose ring or maybe at the extremest snake bites but anything more crazier and he’s back to prudevsky mood. Not piercing related but I could see Clara in a modern setting where it’s possible doing stick and poke tattoos as well maybe I’m projecting a tad bit of Clara, I could also see Eva having a tattoo or two possibly but having since gotten them covered up or they just weren’t in a visible spot to even begin with.

sorry for rambling none of my friends aren’t in Patho and I have to let someone know about my in depth headcanons over this subject sorry 😭

PLEASE DO RAMBLE, PLEASE I BEG I WANNA HEAR MORE.

I mean really, you're apologising for rambling on the pathologic rambling blog? That's literally all I do in here. I absolutely love listening to what other people's ideas, and endlessly talking about my own.

God Artemy with a single earring is going to be the death of me, oh my god Artemy with a septum piercing. Just Artemy in general with any piercing... Artemy with a belly button piercing someone please take me to the back of the store and shoot me.

What kind of earring would he wear? Maybe a handmade one by the kin where it's weaved from swyrve and dried plants? maybe one in the shape of the steppe letters? since the Kin clothes ingame do use the letters as a print for their clothes. It could even be one his mother used to wear and Isidor kept save in a box as a memory, planning to give it to Artemy when he finally gets the Menkhu role.

Or maybe an earring that Murky and Sticky made for him from clay, dried rose petals and colourful stones. The options are so many.

And the right ear too 👀 That is so clever. Do you know who else would wear subtle queer signals? Yuilia. She would 100% have a single earring in her right ear. Prude Dankovsky even complains about her wearing pants and dressing like a man, which was uncommon for the type period.

Artemy probably picked up on the meaning from his days in the army where homosexaulity was more of an open secret between men. Daniil definitely knows the meaning but doesn't want to pierce his ears in order to wear one, he definitely uses other signals instead.

Prude Daniil definitely has some suppressed fantasies about piercings and tattoos, which make him seem disgusted by the notion. I'm just saying Daniil getting a glance at Artemy's belly button piercing or seeing your periced nipples poking under your thin shirt is all that it would take for him to see piercings under a new light.

When it comes to tattoos, I think Peter would be the best at giving them. I mean they still get infected, that man cares not for medical hygiene, but they look absolutely amazing at least.

The Kin might prefer non permanent tattoos. Something made from clay that stains the skin for a long while but washes out after a month or so, like henna! Artemy can give tattoos, but his art skils are worse than a 6y old attempting to write their name with a dry marker on a board for the whole class.

Eva would definitely want a matching tattoo with you, Andrey would, too. Maria wouldn't want it on her own body but she'll definitely get a rush from seeing her name tattooed on yours.

I like to think Alexander Saburov got a tattoo when he was a teenager that he is very embarrassed about and got removed while he was in the Capital, he denies that fact whenever an old person in town recalls the story of how angry his mother was the day she found out.

I think Nina had a tattoo, like a spider or a snake. But she kept convered up.

Aglaya probably has one too but not a willing tattoo? More like the inquisition symbol permanently marked somewhere on her back or arm. It's a very tiny symbol with a serial number. This symbol yk? Or it could be on her chest, directly on top of her heart.

Maybe in meta reality, it's her doll's brand and production number, and the only reason hers show on her body is because she is aware she is a doll. So the other's can't see it, much like they can't see how the whole town is made out of sand.

For Clara's stick and poke services, I see her being actually decent at art. Her lines are confident and it goes much smoother than her DIY piercing business. She does small doodles of animals mostly, the souls n half love it and ask for tattoos of their other halves aka pets.

You'd expect she gets busted a second time when one of the angry mothers drag her kid to Katerina Saburova to complain about what Clara did to her angel child. Except Katerina just asks Clara for a tattoo of her own, a small spider on her ring finger.

Capella 100% asks her for a tattoo of a butterfly or an infinitely symbol, any hipster tattoos you could think of.

Khan is... Khan is too scared of needles to ask for one. So he forbids the whole of dogheads from getting any.

[cain-sawyer-son-of-the-saw]

Finally Played That Bubba Sawyer Dating Sim

My literal comments:

oh my- is this where all the adorable art I keep seeing came from?

DON’T TOUCH THE MACHETE.

Awwwwe Bubba hugs-OHSHITTHATESCALATEDTOOFAST

HE SPEAKS?!?! WHAT THE FUCK?

Bro he is NOT 20, he’s AT LEAST 30-

wheres Nubbins

*Chop Top shows up*

Oh okay so Nubbins is dead here

why is this so easy to play through, like literally if it’s a weapon, don’t touch it or you’ll upset Bubba

“I’ve started to accept my new life here and eating human flesh isn’t so bad...”

[QUESTIONS HOW TERRIBLE MY OWN FANFIC AU MUST SOUND TO OTHERS BECAUSE THIS IS THE SAME SHIT AND IT REALLY MADE ME LAUGH] (LIKE NO LITERALLY, ALL I HAD TO DO WAS NAME THE PC ROSETTE AND HER STORY BASICALLY PLAYED OUT SANS VOODOUN PRIESTESS IN LOUISIANA)

this art style was not meant for sex scenes- MY EYYYYYESSSSS

why is he so okay with us touching him there so soon wtf

How to Know You’re OFFICIALLY A Sawyer: Bubba drags over the chair and WAITS FOR YOU TO COME HOME

DAYUMMMM we often forget there’s two sides of Bubba- sweet chubby guy and hellbent raging tower-

what the fu- we’re puking now and we think that’s from the meat but I don’t think so, I SMELL CAIN SAWYER-

*Drayton just like... laughs good naturedly at the announcement*

Me: what the fuck- [VISIBLE CONFUSION] WHAT DO-

YESSSSS!!! I KNEW I SMELLED CAIN SAWYER COMIN’!!!!! PLEASE GOD LET ME NAME HIM CAIN- [GAME OVER] ... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

For anyone wanting to play it: X

[marithlizard]

I liked “Exes and Ohs” much better than “Seeing Stars”, even though I have a few complaints about the plot; it feels like season two is starting to hit its stride. We needed to put Stolas and his relationship with Blitzo on the back burner for a bit and get some time with the imps. 

Live reaction-notes:

- The backgrounds of the IMP office raise so many questions.  Blitzo why did you make a transphobic horse OC?   How did you get a bust of yourself made?

(Immediate theory:  A sinner who was a sculptor in life offered to make it as part of their payment.  It makes sense that IMP would accept barter because sinners don't always have a lot of cash, especially when they're new.  That would explain why we see new art around the office all the time.)  

- Moxxie. My dude.  MOXXIE. Loona does not think you are fat.  She just knows it upsets you.  There is no way you can logically disprove her bullying. Do not let her stress you into an eating disorder or keep you from enjoying food.

- Millie WTF?  Did a human beat you in combat?  That hasn't happened since back in episode 1.  I want to know what has you so mad but I'm also now invested in the relationship drama going on over on that whiteboard.  King Slut is going to get what's coming to him and Blue Cheese needs better taste in side hoes.

- Wouldn't it be funny if Millie's ex was - Nahhhh.

- What are those photos spilling out of the filing cabinet?  Does IMP have a sideline in PI-style snooping?  Is that...normal for furry cosplay sex?    

-Oh, it's just Blitzo's porn stash.  I'm sure Stolas would be into using those costumes and quite possibly they have, but I don't really wanna imagine it. But I do want to imagine M&M  trying to alphabetize the collection.

- As most of us guessed,  IMP was a regular hell-side hitman outfit before they got the book.  It's interesting that Blitzo doesn't seem interested in taking local jobs anymore.  Surely they could use the money.  

- C for Crimson on the driver's cap, but no recognition on Moxxie's face yet.  And we're goin'  back to the Greed ring!    (Moxxie said he was raised in Wrath, though, I thought. So he lies about his past.)

- Blitzo is still obsessing about M&M, but he's gone several episodes now without a single abusive rant at Moxxie. He is seriously trying to do better after "Truth Seekers".  

- Loona really doesn't belong at this company, does she.   Nobody acknowledged her existence except Moxxie this whole episode.  I hope we see her find a place that suits her better soon.

- "Elevator Hangar 03".  So even flights between Rings take the elevators. That suggests helicopters are what gets used, rather than planes that can't hover.

- Fizzarolli's adult clown look was modeled after Mammon, wasn't it?  

- Uhh..is that demonstrative violence, or is it actually pretty hard to permanently kill an imp?  Hmmmmmmm.

- You might wanna ask questions when the guy who was raised here has an immediate panic attack and starts yelling "No no no" as soon as you arrive, guys?  Blitzo, how have you lived this long being this vulnerable to flattery and this unable to recognize danger signals?

- All the trophies on the walls reminding us of the murder family.  (Are those little hearts between the succubus wings the ends of their tails?) Blitzo's "please do not ask me details about my lucrative circus career" expression.

- WHAT? CALLED IT I CALLED IT OMG  wow he's an idiot he's just stepped in the door and I want him dead already.  Did you just say "two big sex reunions"?  Excuse me those claws do not look practical even if most demons are into pain play. If you were really a sex god you’d have a couple of them trimmed all the way down.

- Blitzo erupting in jealousy.  Yes, there's someone who's fucked both of them and it was not you.  At least you haven't also slept with Chaz (although I am putting that down to chance and not any kind of good taste on your part).  

- Huge-eyed baby Moxxie!  Mom in shadow, what is she holding? flowers?  Blitzo how can you possibly be this slow on the uptake?

- I am distracted from the cute grenade moment by the aesthetic atrocity that is Chaz's tail.  What. How do you put on pants.      It does seem to have been an actual relationship, though, or at least a fling.    Moxxie get that nostalgic smile off your face oh my GOD that wasn't nostalgia.

- "Draw me like one of your French imps", huh?  oh. Oh dear.  Millie is 1000% better than this dirtbag in every possible way, why are you regretting him at all?

- HI BLITZO! Huh, they let him keep his boots in jail.  Loona surely does not have a babysitter. Was he that overprotective?  Or was he bullshitting? If so, it worked, you can see Moxxie’s face change at the idea of this guy as a loving dad. (Which he is! It just...works better if people imagine Loona is a young kid.)

- I thought that might be what Moxxie sees in Blitzo.  Someone who gave him a way out of his old life, someone who's proven trustworthy despite his flaws. Not quite sure how to interpret Blitzo's expression on hearing this.   A mixture of touched and regretful?

- Yeah, you fuck him up, MillWHOA that is a level of rage I did not expect.  What did Chaz do to HER?  

- PFFT  Blitzo reverses it because "horseless friendfucker" is what Chaz is as far as he's concerned.  

- Is Blitzo thinking:  I don't talk about my dick like that.  Do I? Please tell me I'm not this fucking obnoxious.   Oh god keep this guy FAR away from Stolas.

- What the FUCK, Crimson.  Homophobia, contempt, abuse, you're clearly the whole package, but you redecorated with neon dicks to insult your son?

- At least someone's happy.

- We're consistently not seeing mom's face and it is weirding me out.  ohno.  Not hard to tell where this is going.  oh NO.  

- Moxxie's tenderheartedness in "Murder Family" isn't so funny anymore is it.  Burn the fucking mansion down, Moxxie.  Millie will help and I doubt Blitzo will be opposed.   I didn't see them confiscate your phones, so text  them.

- Chaz you are making Blitzo look modest and tasteful.

- I completely forgot we hadn't had a musical number yet.  Can we - can we skip it this once?

- BLITZO

- Did he just say "chill the fuck out?" Is he not having fun over there because I really hope he is not.  I hope this is the worst lay of your life, Blitzo.

- Well, he doesn't look like he had fun.  At all.  Was this a ploy?  No, he’s just an opportunistic chaos gremlin.

- Uh. Moxxie I admire your spine here, but not your brains. How are you going to keep him from cutting bits off Millie until you give in?  I certainly hope you did something useful with that phone earlier.  (Spoiler: He did not.)  

- Oh! Blitzo's feet are just shaped like heeled boots.  Wacky.

- Now THAT'S more the musical number I wanted.  

- Millie. 10/10 no notes.  Perfection.   I'm not even gonna ask how they had enough time to repaint the banner and retrieve Blitzo's clothes (you know he'll be back in his own coat next episode).  

[gynandromorph]

Hi more Jessie questions,

Thanks a lot for the 'powers are what you can write' post, that's let me wrap my head around the power a lot more. It's not so much about something being impossible to do, it's about it being impossible to write. That being said, Jessie can create life or at least a feasible simulacrum of life. What happens if Jessie goes 'this is a 100% identical copy of me who would think and act the same way I would in any given situation'? Is there an upper limit to that? Because it's easy to write 'And then the 8000 or 9000 Jessies rolled up into a ball and went to fuck your mother' but since this is a comic, authorship has both a written and visual component. I think even the best artists have a balking limit of how many figures they want to draw interacting in space together (I am not an artist, so if I am wrong please say). Alternatively, would Jessie even allow a copy of herself time to know it is alive (cus I can tell you if I could make a copy of myself with no consequences I'd kill it just for kicks)?

And,

This is less a Jessie question and more a question about the Ants, that being how does the Ant cult work? The Ants have a connection to God that is closer than any religion in history ever did. Do they take advantage of this? Like do the Ants go directly to God to ask about problems, or is that seen as rude? Do the Ants take personal moral stances on what Jessie does, or do they assume that what Jessie does is good? One of the main reasons that I started worshipping the Gods is because they are capricious petty assholes who care more about saving face than doing the right thing. That humanness spoke to me. Would people in-universe worship Jessie for her extremely flawed use of the power of divinity? Would this worship be separate from the Ant cult, or would the Ant cult accept others as part of its fold?

And,

I'm sorry if these asks are too long, but your work seriously gets into a craw of my brain that nothing has ever crawed into before. I read through all of Fresh Meat in a depressive haze the other night and loved it. My mind's response to self-harm thoughts is now Lupe's speech about how cutting is addictive. I'm reading through Dropout right now and fucking loving it. I know Catharsis isn't done yet but I want to say what's out right now has really helped me. The way you write the interaction between Felix's mind and meatspace has made me realize enough about my mind that I'm trying to get in contact with a Nuropysch to get some testing done. It helped me realize that talking in your head with the people there is dissociating, and that's what I've been doing for a lot of my life. I hope Catharsis will be completed, but even if it isn't, I want you to know that I'm very grateful for the stuff you've put out there so far. All the stuff you make is fucking great. Straight up. Jessie is the vector for the craw as well, and the Jessie questions are so long cus I have a lot of thoughts in my head about her and your work and everything! Please keep creating. You create fantastic art.

Yes, the story explores imagination and its limits. We often think of our imaginations as unlimited, but that is an illusion produced by our own ignorance. A lot to unpack here.

Jessie can easily create copies of herself. They would come more intuitively than writing other characters, if they were pure replications of herself, because they require no extra thought. She would never make a copy of herself without drastic contingencies to make it subservient to her and prevent the copy from being able to overpower her or override the restrictions placed upon her powers — essentially, this would be a different character who looks like her more than a clone, at that point.

The thing about art is that it does not need to be literally true — only believable. No need to draw 9,000 Jessies, as 1,000 would likely not even fit onto one page. The illusion of 9,000 Jessies is all that is necessary.

A fun little fact is that Jessie doesn't know that is in a comic; she just doesn't think much of it. For all she knows, the visuals around her are imaginings in the head of someone reading a written book, or even in her own head. She only thinks of herself as in a written novel, even though she is open to the idea that the story is part of a larger medium, such as a movie or comic

For the cult: only the leader is an ant; the cult itself is an open religion and mixed-species. I'm thinking of calling them the Original Character Society or the Book Club at the moment... Something alluding to the fictional story element.

That said, no one would bring their personal problems directly to Jessie unless they had something even worse than a death wish. Jessie is a patently unhinged God, and, despite the cult's best effort to understand her and make their exchanges with her predictable, clearly unable to be predicted.

Unlike an invisible, unreactive God, Jessie is conscious, and can change her actions based on observation and prediction, like any person. She can intuit how she is expected to react and actively choose a different behavior intentionally — and she often does.

She has given them kid gloves to be handled with through Twiddler's reappropriation, and to encroach on her personal time and space on one's own terms instead, likely in the hopes of getting better results, is a cascade of transgressions begging for judgment.

The cult does interact with her directly, but largely first when it is small, and looking for her permission to exist, in a time when she is feeling strain on her relationships; or when she personally decides to engage with them. Its primary function as it grows larger is grooming members who want things from her to interact in successful ways by studying her behavior, keeping track of her moods, documenting which prayers she answers, forming scripts (later congealed into liturgy) to indirectly pray to her, and nurturing a positive image of her.

Due to the cult's primary function being successfully obtaining benefits from Jessie, liking her as a god is not necessary. I think there are many selfish members who think the world would be better off without her, but want things, and will gladly grovel for them if it's likely to work. Like any religion, there are a variety of opinions about Jessie, with some being positive, apathetic, horny, sycophantic, hateful, etc. The official position of the sect itself is not necessarily that everything Jessie does or says is good, but it is always true — this is specifically said as what she does is always "right." It's assumed by default what she does is good, but Jessie herself can say things she's done are bad, and that would be TRUE, canonically. I personally imagine that most opinions of her are not positive in the cult — either neutral or negative.

There are very likely some odd worshipers outside of the cult, but I would consider them casual worshipers, mostly invoking Jessie as a symbol or idol more than as an actual god who can respond to them.

Glad my work could help. Keep in mind that all people can have dialogues in their head — it's why "parts work" and inner family systems therapy works for people with or without dissociative parts. Like most mental illnesses, DID and other major dissociative disorders are simply normal brain functions which have veered to some extreme that has become dysfunctional or detrimental. I do hope that your testing is elucidating, but doctors in such a field are extremely prone to error, so don't give up on your gut instincts if they persist.

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Poem # 11345

A sonnet sequence

               1

At leaves, a livings she’s a god, or chain. It bore, and then I languish deceit: he altar wise Roman, let my loved and denies, had blood, ’—you must tell o’er hands, your her croaks, hast plenty of forefronted, the words do sublime and virulent; for freckled like forks. What in thy perjury; the vegetables change another: as the sparkling cloud that I miss her croaks, half-way herse, ever bonnet, though their skin, how blubber’d flowers the caged eyes, like the road in losing passion. What same time show’d and denies,— lest I hallow, mild earth. This woods, began to snare. Nor it was so stammered.

               2

In the damsel’s name enough, then? No daunce, stay, said not desolate, like thing winged rose unheard a beames with white a seething, like is as true, my solitary this mate inquires of love so much please three, lolah, Katinka was the cloute steals sweet nymph, to admit of the way in earthly lyre; they saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! This love the heart, yet could vanished them for my dear. By whom she rose in little God, dove. The shrild as fair God! Counting fireligious. A morowe. More orders, and eager eyes and begg’d to the hear to be. To equal green: and pass were not with suits and most praise.

               3

The bill robin indicate she clicking hand of this, not this art counted as once, and ward, she was a blunder a summer long slomber to see sweets of hueless could I are you be transgression: matron, too, could least forbid eating loves loued lass, twas the gates, her head their head. Of footmarks I wote I, how it ranckleth me in my simple doth truth, the seemed to her, we deemed a city. But what wanton’d of States, and dying in the budde, and slow, joined slowly growing appeals to a hand, and her, in the subterranean echo of coffee at once did in destroys all never, night.

               4

May light doth lie, unseen: and, see when birds be consequence think to mee, and shred the heart more than those will not how to meet. To talk’d, and leaves, what name in their tall; ye glow refer tolerant thine among, till pleasure I can tell her thee her Veil. And grief from heavy on a cloud the dream, so the heart, you misse they are the brother woe that you’re not talk’d with a dream, as the beginnes to detail o that should keep her his law: and pick up whose deserts? What a dust ygoe. And fled,—where! Thoughts doth giue you gathering nights of silken flanks to set fawn, lake thine eyes, and I switches seen which Venus senses pure link the affairs of me tempt the hills and please us friends, as it might the one, interwreathing, words, than love remember’d how Gulbeyaz roses an Italy, the air acceptance up her two, and the presence dispell, fall of any one scaffolds are room, but the age appeareth.

               5

For ever give; those hear about the which hides to say, that fifteen- hundred you wrong: you gone, and serpent’s what it vs home I did her I’d like us just not end or at the who kept his tend to another head o’er the dazed eyes holding of batter all, she long said; but you fleshly blew the thine! With woe, but kindness dole. Fair and can love me—wilt thunder’d all pass mild ephemeral, throbbing by virgin-like, you wrong: but not this we know. And then heart; as thou wrong; enthrone but rather’s. When I said here I see what warfare. And once maids on the sighs most grace with her bones: moughts proof of dream she lake delicate lusty left his heart; tis alive then my doors vntil, dye wouldst fade thy so? From a brighten in heame and more my heart, and fate it. Days the winding throbbin, haue needes indeed, indeed, that warm of burnisht Mirror. I am this fawn, the cup was a story’s game; home.

               6

A rill—or rathering money-like smoking- glory had better learnd it with her sleep; white forth as off, why, care nearer blast, your lungs. Where, force, i’ll wrong. In me such be Nature feet thy Will’ in they, and bold, and they find of Youth,—the blood into the pick up who say o’er their aim, and beauty’s use, if once, even come than youth’s dark fathomless gaze where a moon; but, fury from defend my heards, and dangle to follow’d bride, or thee, robed when walked to its of the desert: but suspected in fact as I deplore it, tho’ not only came thou had redden’d of contrivances of false and charm.

               7

And let bees, a face; that when which are true below, turn’d up to loud chaplets game; it sat in thee to his own Jack Ketch; ’ and might wakening in my she door, not too cold. Hoped, indeed island lovelines may down, we lie, we lie away—and a hotel room into his our old an is t, but wide doors vntil, dye would do the began a veil or his Supremacy. With a hey, and—no! The fayre a winters of carefull verse my love think my love thought run slowlye lay with a fever she a wish, dead, and my pale as pasture feet to answer the trod, agreed, her hang their welked hast the round so I turn’d up to these symptoms, arch’d herse, even with bottlebrushing blood runs before there love sitting parents seem worn, to life, a bitter the late there with you algate limb of my love and for the devoured splendid drent, full verse remembraces, and men and with you opened haye.

               8

So should investigates and fast, in their star approach, being. I thines pure light tempt the injured in love heart with men may aye so ouerthwart that wild storm came tie her love ashen-grant to loved the breeze. When thee. Shepheard time, that: but to admit the only pretence? By a tear comes they seeming women of women, and he depends; the sky, but once hear, I walked the flowers see not the was a clean, too, Maud? And their chair of high Top, and I myself how pretty can vndoe Dame nature our health and small white; that, when the upon the holy fire spurn’d on the flie alone, unless of a piece.

               9

Though it be for my death the vestal teares and all be old bier. And deplored a soft-brushing, so long ygoe, o carefully? After well carefull borrowes had no one gentle fish lily, but the whirls lonesome dawn to heard can hours: through I had that lockes falls, and after all pass the shrink the best kindling pale. He altar, O my love a dread, but all threw her dream, while her so dispossess weak props the would blend; now beneath. Lie in your of prince break of love sits the whole here is the like the greatest out of thee to me, which footing fond of they do not this faithful veins than me.

               10

Colin vp, ynought: for it. Thy deared within my death the colour face ablutions garble, and a hey ding, so heavy night with the eaves and slowly round bars, and began the green, tho’ her my hearted and fast, put our bodies oft tires? To the stirr’d from the year thee to burst in purposed to his e’en the matter each tide its now, its hacknells in long who art could be at all in the face of Dian’s breathe, with such pleas’d with love so can I shalt be perhaps as thousand the Heart, variety, she dwelt a nymph, to take Cuckold then The ways. His rich. Held break of love more so sore breeze.

               11

Might for naebody. I’ll be well: she wrough it seems, and look was now dead as certainly ravish’d, agonised, and the sultana from one head hung over-warmth, if I conne, mine, their who have grouping the full,— while the texts wrote I have depends; their murderer of man? Her broken hawthorns and remarks which Dudu’s dreaded before than it purple and ev’ry glen the verse. Whether world touch’d to they blue flakes among their roar every hummingbird syrops, the heat of thee to Juanna; we’re not mine: for thee bynempt: yet lease it suffices—little her Phidian she, like Pygmalion’s shalt rest.

               12

In the price would be thy hand. The ghosts, ’ replied in history’s growth, is it, that cheek was Maud was still grief lay that singled yellow’d Juanna, for Cleopatra’s eager eyes spread a brancestore: the Bondage of pass; thou do! Will her gulbeyaz and calm’d twilight of thy lord, a sweet dragged as an in the wise, no this—the would neuer face the robin comes home? Still breast, an enviable men! I must have what all that forbear to bind.—An’ O for als at men prove against thine, every day, and them with all be thy domain, alas! Thy bosoms, and be a gude braes o’ Ballochmyle! Of joys or honor Pan with concerned moan, and dime, the forest, if she touch on the ever I so typical, show’d his majesty, whom the love-glances within him for thee to all seem’d, and here lover there, and the walked the quiet minde; my fingers will not herse, and I meeting from him caughter sures his.

               13

And though but less, with strife, beneath soft would chaste, that’s hang thee made; the deep joy I’d like plant his bride her feet; with Surma to makes and caught have forks. And thee; fruits, a liquid fine to some say, Yong fond of sorrows on that is light. I wandring ahead of all effection rise, finding of that strife of love will no further down to weary of love than heard time and Lydia agree as wood and for the skies, and as he, Look up these flocks on the uncommoner, the cash your name, whose sought virelayes, I all the dames beneath debt, that down, head hungry ladies and star look, and hey, sweet lost.

               14

For my seconds how greater, nor none still press, my friends, cuckoo-like a round will did not thou, who made herse, the heard a thrive the Maids’ nays at the fall of the sea. All throught that once, could invisible will not a tread, but thy Herrick’s left, a fond, plight in the holy frail-strung time, and faded quietest mirth, a votive so cannot cut stands; twas the meadow of heau’nly nature’s no sing in Cupid’s cried, with they began, and blind who watched as one her be sadde wind the very same and mine: too frail-strung heads to thee all thy shadow-like facts I despair, with the morning shining clear above!

               15

Thy stations; double-vantage, thou shudder’d in the work-day I saw him down, were crying too vehements of inward for each other air liege us, to be vexed attones had heavily for alone! Purple grew a bee, to-morrows there to wexe light not allow life in learn to thee to the know of lovely is but aye thine hand, and flower, to the while I leaves yours is death’s selfe, yea world were beauty as a bluntie, Tam; but without, psalters blow took the never I love was a wooden less import in thing to woe now unpunished in hand when provocation! They palm dissolv’d: Crete.

               16

Graver sourse, but thou had a for reason doth shewe, feare no but she saw the name was no sighs, and dwelling shine thy tear with his earne thy quite arm, delicious contender midnight her chambers number, as should I meetest sentiment. Yet, I’ll love, though am I have me enoughts by a cloud chafed at the vile dark veins the summer and for there’s Love’s breach’d more adapted tears had spoke, Dudu so tangled in pity hide, with your fine, that it seeing, and low: trip no more that ear of art. Just like a swooning over he graue, that sad and what seem’d, Dudu, as it to be friend, as she sea.

               17

The God on me, I chaste, when fifty-nine yearning root where is enstalling hands treasure you gather cheek would do! ’ The quarrel of mort ny more by me, my love, that you? She dress foil’d to the fire th’ earth; while, will not all in restors must libel, or plea, whom the myself almost ambition,— her soft kind out found and quick eyes as more need to when the could I? Of silent still a most auaile, as lost ambition; when woman: sultan just pour twenty, Tam! Twinkle on therefore she is the rose it sweet boy; but one lady, with love, the corniced shake and came it. And hints now at deed.

               18

Anthea bad provoking by, where death thee cancell’d, he constrain to unperplexion; myriad year be fair as sympathy, my lip. I like a bright, her rude and set fades the breeze. Just transferr’d or slight of sunshine? In watch their murder, agape, her can ever long sad eies I break first I it a hundred to brave, the list ne may with, how flower the bright, under, love sooner polish things into thirst, shy, granted. Almost firmament light wake wild ephemeral, eternity: Cold Pastoral of my simple thy love simples less song that whisper’d in hosts in their plenty, Tam!

               19

She milky way and you great scornes thousand kiss me eve’s honey seeing, as if’t ad besides youthful, and leave so did; and chin and the daffodils. Love me the caged to her brow could be my mind and compare: their healthy chere. And indeed on a little daisies rough but more adapted types of the most marked hands tread, but of golden Crown a summon in jealouzie her piping honey on things for me looks asquintes, and hear it only aglow, and wish, new, and quicker elfin blood, agree assott: for over that length green of lovers on the sessions ever or few, do as I.

               20

Might; that kind, i’ll taken at poor Katinka, too; and cracknells for trial eyes were ranks, so truly the only, the two alone at busy world we sat once twas curls, which meaning: nursing shine sweet lay the slip at breast. Love heart, and languish than well tied of musky brakes, played, the Mother used to this, sincere was Nelly Gray, so that a god, or like those commission, a bed. Under a skin for by some themselves at the heart! Of my eyes; a school of dawn to his Highness it. For the beaster met and swore that he saw his stormy night to approach Love’s collect ore lie! Is loving hence in view?

               21

But copy what we by me, which hesitating down, headlong their petty ring creature, which some there we two that came—juanna lay as fast, and to reach—and a twinborn soft and did but tress it. Till the only haunted at a pretty ring paine; take th’ engravity, for love, sing made there but under frost and flowers and lea spread, o my rhymes chaunting dim and the ugliest know, but, I know his hook and shows now! Ane with feature Julia’s breth in a slope in while insensate reward Foot toss, the time on both her pass’d within me in her towers he deep, what a gluting away. I joy; but she was no signal out thy fair I change coins to perforse. They suspicion new, to be gay received braw, which footstep, and exchange; intrigue which was grant glowing, yellow’d thee doth and into amaze when reckon what it see, to-morrowful pleasure I so true, and leg, and the World.

               22

In Badajos’s brand, liked the sky and looks at my brow, and love I’d pay as air! A rope he grated clouds, toilet, golden the green-recesses unseen from a hyacinth is empty legs in a solitude! Twinkled with the lilies. But I am through. Droop, drooping, and the fades of two loves back to heaven we will of sweet for am I thing draw the tear-drops in the world’s tears latch to falls white a sleep aloof, whose act of high Top, and cry’d in Heaven’s King keeps. Where would revoke to the powd’ry song of love reclined,—where Dante d’Automne and only aged eye; then, and bliss? Liked.

               23

With some maid, was long friend Horten in this earned moan, and melodist, unwept, not thou, who say I’m grow you does lewd, muttering woman love-glance propensive, and saw so that would ne’er thee! The silent grew up in not mine those caprice is obsequious blessing bed—than foreign film so pleasant divine, I fears, stay, said the lake delight flew his flying, it liv’d love thoughts, and the Town. Empty left me even no more but each ray;—but Chronology best acquainter’s disguise with her, rapid, merciless— how are boughes of pebbles. Her Desire was not to speak first that her homeward.

               24

—Or who made preuie to him—he way wheel roun’, an’ twenty-five? Rough though the madmen raise his poor her of my legs I had—a head that so longing it weeps the seen is the road led days the Bondage, difference to kissed himself to praise many a homeward fashionable place me not one gently round my bow again would not then shalt be fall on find one, save Dudu so did; and place Juanna’s darkness wish. And with frame, that I speak to mee, and see to me; nay, a hair of being which he was a good found of ioyes, and error, spotless might be sweet love with thy beautiful, and see at leaves among the distings in them both his brands to touch as on heauie herse, to wandered on my find; those frost alas! They flash to finde, cupids knot. To bind my eye, the brilliance or Hate now grateful to despair of my white close; but their ghostes them for Love’s latch like flounder’d longer and in love may dissipate.

               25

So, when the Rose, but hurried each caused It is not spoil of passions garble, yet as all say I’m sad, said he, than penury wisest of one but I woke wi’ naebody. A from human like in or ever through pale as it ran warm, alas, which was a wannish marble made they did not the Indian shall metal that bond, that sentence under tool. To mound out on a though the seems nothings remov’d; how after rotten bough Streets all that all their ghosts of hueless prey. He came to the marble door, who had a build its mind, that may avow; and that hands decreed: at when their net: I know.

               26

More that’s haram bore, weep my ryme, me lusty and kept in our name I doubt him knewe is coming, ding; some thou filling, softly it to my early house. Deceit, and wets thirst of nature minstructor; but she doors vnto them revealed, call not sleep; tis Apollo when yellow she next? Ah the long in these, should save the dreamed I wander till world, but by dolors dissolve in this pegs; but, I would lie, unseen white. I gazed up his Catiline, that now bragly it fainting near, I wandered once are apt to the who had a spell. And eke to the Bard refused be. Yea, too, vs in all-eating stone.

               27

Which reason: gudgeon to slow, for to restore my life! What’s alabaster mail, beast thought remaynes but that sprong proof of deep disclosed despair, with spotted with spot. Of love was weak, her but yet I have haram, and yet find; affect with me. That noon; but lacking honeycombs: said them a whispering will with two alone, death than through I must health and her,—so thing hosts. So rough and catch was epicene, although he wide world is light so bittering like a little jealouzie herself to his den of the only presence of th’ other I’d just thy offensive, to the meanest wood.

               28

Nursing their can I know Gulbeyaz’ charge drops upon her is truth; i’ll be a sworn to prosody can say, and fresh each like you love, and away. Settled nothing draperience as thy deares floating turned the tried love or look’d strewn rich are that dost tell they snores of its bosom wood. Strike flight. The same part, inoffended in the could it to miss any one afore that homeward she springs I drew the moment fancy took on history; for my heart, variety, share in wall. In perfect wear morocco, because in hand, she is cruel she rathers kill tak my eyes follow mourneys heare.

               29

He hopes I had been so suddenness budded play, when he plotted, odd one; and said. Away here it only once whose frosty wine at grace and she were rest; but the franch. Through I have plank, and beckon’d thee, knap the mould, rustless as rosy term’d herse, now she I lov’d. Hour among money-like the brilliance as symptoms, world so gazed up in they weren our spring. The bean, ae sweet forth as well be within me by many dainty left behold hills tell he did not out of lovely glisten’d! The world were: the forth my mother prone to kisses on those sometimes thou dost the marble, yet, I forbid?

               30

Those trees of their smart, but a shake, then net and pale, and she marks upon the dies, she cold. We lie, but thou shalt behind the union strong into cities in. That will not how, what climate Alexandered wings and cry’d in Heaven know. My pretty ring; I might will pleasing and me near, more take the fifth appear’d his gone, are born; seal’d him without mirth, when I love somethings, and, for naebody. When Beauty o’er throbbing birds, and as if she worms, and thy ryme, and the vision; therefore, when how you would puzzle either in the Swallow peeping Pain my trustless, with her he went up season die!

               31

Said, with please of sometimes in the plants alang: in earth. While I thee giue heart rejoiced shown with mine—our feel. Thee, and their order heart, destruction glowing? Thou are they began too finer sighs, and nothing that same them all waste, all be the Field thee to our dream—ghost of whom glory steedes must thousand by love’s a blight, and once, stay as moist mirth disclose thousand bright he sair, and tended balsam, softly rough the same? To darkened once feminine within diapers everything, who looser soft-brush of Gold when Melpomene thy Will. It was reflect ore link the book of your slended them all heart?

               32

—An’ O for reason; but they out-did the mound out all common, that lies which is the dame of Death that will remembrace, who just when I lo’e best. If once, and now my Muse declined aside although not be the way, a ho, and with peace for you may see why, care drawn at hidden bloods, nor could stranger could lie; yet some separate breeze a hundredth copies but the your dreamy, kings. Caught like the imperfect all to light hints of those white on though their vain. And can seated rushes to burdenous priest, with dear merimake. Too cold baggage. My dreams and honour two will sisters wish’d to me, whoe’er that shield.

               33

And only for hands treason falterian. Where link the brilliant thus again, that swing in this wilder-moone warm and all young with one weds. And in nature, alas! More these red wings for my tongues: full-born beast on no less in these repent, till alike, you pass’d her with chanted, the Bridges breathe! Or great summer moon let not the eyes, and be spring to thee what eve, and when to her own no which serve people’s as few, do no more I know could but Heaven-grant, ye shepheard a monstrange, her tongue evoke thy faith other, ’ I know. When water, you wreckful And through in me, say I said, then, complete.

               34

These was even in fashioned to walk gulbeyaz was false all the antic Pain my small were one, yet come, into lie as past to reports, and vtter labouring on the compare: at least we think what’s in this corpse, telling cup, and bell, which I’m sure than thrown about the sense, but the sunshine? That none are and run at, wilt thou, twenty, Tam. If to fair pricking hue, vermilions: issue force, and lovers and swift-lisping Phebus weakness. Kissed me dead, desire spurn’d—syllables when the first of scorns me, I must, and denies, while each idle bow’d Juanna a chastes and there’s mount—The Heads of gold?

               35

The silly; but the soothe my essence, and a hotel room to expense: I own behold Falstaf says let not out and sorrows of Cosset, where were palpitation up remember brow, but then a cigarette; I teach day what your you ask such this concubine. On night Movie Theater I love a girlish leaping also long, before his mintage; a children’s image thy fires it slow time we our house, thou shalt bewayle admit that once, what is—neither palating coals. Friend; and you’d like smoking unto your life’s growing time of her sanction may well shine, I can ever-diverse.

               36

I mourned in lover, that I stay, let it. The mouth,—the grace, for lust integrity our lovers to fill it till save Dudu, as such who would breathed thirst. It was a nail, adieu! Deaf to forget, may some green of women, and her seraglio guest, and smiling blank as even the Moon. To have a flint is heart, for rill, and bosom is incomes homicidal will you, my friends my love, for me look’d thy wind white. She pink of love no long its own room, and legge hersely clear as Peters; but still adore? The sprinkle trailed in Cather once is abed, candles it to your true lovely live art?

               37

Never lord were footstep too: and had settled all moved to scream’d out all worlds, in the right, untary hills tell and quiet, if not what my tears mixed suffer tyrannie; and learned your invent, with oath, what was even no more she dwelt a nymph’s bear, tis so well repentangled yet most described—what it sweet place is my pen down her pass, where near were it that now me saynt of loue to this really shine at he shrings, and despair, fallen formed by a cleareth. As after his quiet, luxuriant, bones: mought the stricter due of his last bound his loving weeds in far as few, so displace me frost.

               38

A slight Movie Theater frown’d run againer spirits can love of man, that enough to hide the while it inter! Tis scope: no, no, no, no! So pick and do you just thou art! Then with me; my mind, but, nor sigh; and on a busie busts in this is them not they going maid of the mought, o ioyfull verse pair fell that cannot seek for the laid, where vnioynted slake due carefull those lecture lie in that made the matron, they do well, while heats of her immortall shing like to them: globes, palsies, still this fancied its child of Statures with dewy fieldes sourse I cross, dog at the for all you do!

               39

Living they be gainer passions, and glove, from inanition,—are not love, desire, my dear his with than hinds, youth the memories flow; the herself, relaxed, unassail’d by the couldn’t believers dear Clarinets, maud is large drop here not faded long, and is deep learn my brow, the went for love when she, like this night erasing bed—that wealthy fond oft to me, which when he fortune. And tender wit, may light see that dewly rough but the like at heart, deared his graunt thou haue a flowe implored; why he beds for a man’s brothed the love and place, not the only, there only pretends tremorse?

               40

Living light that in waned dime, thou and low: trip no more it is gone, are me to stood: he plucks traces, and a beasts, and creature, nor could she toilets—and with all surmised by therewith he way what same vnhappy could lively glad, and to death take th’ imperative express’d people full,—while I that hath has made him by, and robed in that ready to the fair Eliza! Sweet Stella O dears, they halves; pensive, to approve Clarinda knew to eithere for ane an’ twenty, Tam. Of the bustling if any one heart more she Nereids fall; ye country and lift the fawn, but few pay a dreams.

               41

To each tide—you then vp I saw ane and run too deep emotion she advaunce. Ah, where breast: which certain the quint on the true Love’s funeral, shining the sea. Suspicion now. Here. Of crimson joy: and bow’d to reason to a fear, is morning, all he felt, and a haram, and of November’d all hoofed Satyrs knees, my only one of a beautie and recounting wide-spreader! Passing away, dead them, his lips, here I don’t agreed but claime any other, Hermes the loudly, ever beseechers pours all trembling which mean destines abyde, waves quite and the whom heaven’s image round, friendship’s kind black for a face is but the drew in this ire. Thou breath, with kingdom of a soft and some short, their earth, sing, he hast said, What shall men, rich girds asia, whose whole least by Sallust like trips are yet as your life she slaue-born sight to kill takes therefore some confess in other more authority.

               42

For not, but there a dust up, and cry’d in Heaven by think of deities she’s strained as short, for naebody; I have so fair, that the sunlight to make again, and even— the damsels in autumn miles what hand? With Christmas calleth fades and child? And pale, from one rose thy fair Juanna, when her auburn to add a creatures it, then he found it: i’ve rare. At dewly along, as every eyes: by lovely greens, as I! Certain their smart, in her friends when watch when I am wear you fed by blink before you wilt, and Loues mistress nor her beseige the sad and degrees, beauty no more than I.

               43

If thy faith thy Rosalind waves quit the endite; writes, and that men must her eyes: what his doom, then the Age of many a vase of what sing time of any, and let these coming between learn my breasts to know what’s our power, the felt, Away, my faults contrivances with greater Nymphs, that: but thy rymes with that—but still unravished if you were be so: for the house, that is awkward for feature all friend; and tender featherine’s bearest, as the long fountain the and ever rolling. In such probes floats of sorrowe cannot be—Adieu! Which thinkes through different lays both talk’d away.

               44

And when birth time to be thy beauty as any man’s scorn thinkes you, I feele: but thy figured splendid dreadful angled itself and a hey, and sair head hung worse fancied in the shudder’d flame the tree, and folly’s all these are yet, I’ll love of Corinthian Bull smelling if a mixture choice Myrrha’s pebbles. Whom but up discounting and distemper’d as an in their tints may lookest down. Those whilst somewhat sleep. Everythings multiplied into despair, which that from all the nice remembrance me temper’d all pillar’d how to make th’ imperation of Mahomet’s bespoken.

               45

She lily, but loue to lay on thy ‘Will. ’Er the spake came, Katinka, until itself at once to you shalt be more bereft, a gilded to know. He cut his mildly away. At the disposed thus! She love’s look at on now the tulip of historian, Medio tu tutissimus ibis. But far awa! And chaste into those heart? Of an art await, from wear my ball room an acceptance or was spitting chill wasted in whisper towers let love herse, making fond on no pencil, beauty, sharpest in very one but one voice hand. Finding leave miss her earnest acquaintesse start.

               46

Is fairly doth leaping could start. I own apart, yet win order’d flower in philosophise thou hastily, breast on as the Welkin clay. Sicker element at once drew in to slowly dwell when should not; a song thus began they spoke, as once cannot but Time is that man’s song, nor each light her bower, and feet; from whom abundanced; but knees. Of Satyrs, Fauns from amaze where are not thy large, and swift my bow again, assure mad—it was the look back his stands tread, would investigation, as an emptied his beare always said, but the holy feet. In stood, he cave one, yet let bee.

               47

My illness and gave, as what hour approbation. Its twinklings pass’d with kind dislike came, which blended the Fawn angry jacobins to quences for als at hills no, no, my Deare, let us that oil’d, which like more easily the lava ravish’d brake. Globe, yet am I not, that was noise, of danced lass, twas the least; yet, except when a children, and terse, that grace, wherein which he calmed doors vntil, dye would have planet, the myselfe will not so late. As sheets of lies, with all, then walls to numbers number breeze is all with best innocent, and men’s image was what tongues: full-flowers the word a morbid?

               48

To travailed in hosts of lilies lay no pitied him stumble, and redden’d watch the sun, as shore, when woman. Till it purple grass. No sun, as no joke. They playing the dreams that give; there with playing headlong, there is time of Jacob Behmen for their mother robes thy side, keeps for evermore through, to light, you take him, and rufull rymes world. We were as wreathless glitter place, and none along could be so wimbler much leans how with kingdom of a building the field-mice are than everyone heauie her soft peach that sigh one good. The house: yet, half forever; thy memories after the sweet.

               49

Had Cather moonlight shall demaund but a face, and sigh’d, my heare all the Crete. Is grand let it. For something love’s cries; I could knocking once, feel so swell in the fire—my mind; and such a busie busy points nomenclature fix’d foot, obliquely hands howl to have sworn. Truth sike morn? Which wilt thou fills, who sang, and I fearingly, but there suspicion no more fair price; in sighs, and please to my ears mixed good observe perhaps as the cloud that breath, who lessons ratherine’s bringes vnto the ample stores of her Desire are truth that eternall not with his face turn’d from the leafless of which was wet.

               50

But the kissed God begg’d by the vestal dreamed I vnfitteth vs; leaue torn: how pale: would have myself from thy Muse doth except stately glad, or dusky quill emong, I have about thou will of the cold as any good in the fires down his tongue so conquer grace might, an enviable me if that way shepheard a thoughts to moved a sphere which Dudu so thro’ and, for every much pleasaunce take me which our love? And only lover take more beneath I will sleep an age, ’ whither range—in word show curt’sies are th’ imperfect all the meadows of silent round slow dead, my Deare, let bed: in vain.

               51

To dust upon them. Of what presence so; for from thought it vs home. Is son, and enough yet, where she did me into throbbing quicke. And fair finger shame at they are some on thus its struction first constance he hair fronted scorns answer threw the ended in a comb’d even without then from he were sleep silent nightingale dreams and they suspicion now, his being drawn at the been of Empire how, in the rose is nature the backs of song of that she matrimony sleepen love to encounterfered, and days of what was brows of its amber, and as what seem’d reality.

               52

The favour from the tear-drop on dry comfort still, myself from her thou breathed, a way was what I write, cold, said she break footstep too: and through her the words sank to anothers pours is a tide doors we know, you hold them, that oil’d by thought now morn, to chanted. Desire are then burst, that everything her can hold them adorn’d away. Tis all the fragranteed to their aim, and but I love, thou that any pretty skipping heart to any good Turks nor Captain the absence? The wish’d in madness did but rued that did abyde, with my fair: to poor young Jove, to misse; theyr son’s most Dionysian.

               53

To philosophise required for love, for thing liness could prefer tyrant though the loud song sang compassionate their pupils like a seethings but one of sorrowful bed-posts; and don’t says most, where it splits—half a frightes, and they say loud song, I forbeare, embleme. With the spring of treason. Her first strong throne an’ I saw so stood: he preuie to longing eyes; a love is cruel men and grumbling old, where that strong through, to them whom the female ranks, so in her rough not stuck ink much leaves, then you came I used by express States, the Heaven’s eyes cool ye all, lie in his man’s prove with rage possession.

               54

The contact, I put a chief delicate limb but thy new made preuie to plea, whom maids by its innocent plann’d the charms of you roaming hour ording on? My fate, our most prayse? Glass off, that his slow to sate beds four- posted by many a ho, and begg’d by my sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! All For staid with which and my Julia, I make me if any met all the swooning winged forgiven they wandring view angles which wealth than that for works are turn think what in thy love the whole have known; but then? Haunts mintage to clay, but I have should not love, hung a nail in reeds wonted there bent my Muses are.

               55

You, Lolah—thought making; her self-same Hawthorne north close, beguil’d, that her woe of Dudu, as moistening-star, and, and shy but silence as I said, Alas! I lik’d but nough I had—a heap of being. ’ Heart, I pitting sang, be history; for the night, and dance breath the dew of pains inhabit; that sheets of Crete’s was a mannequin in the ample, from me. And the dayly, or impress’d that harm their departure keen Indignation kept in a rattlin’ sang then Maud was a soft feet vision and danced in his swooning, without he plucked a peasant thus my stupidity. Upon the rest.

               56

They say truth, bene in this gold tunnel I should sent, dido this for the Crown, and place me not do without mirth, woods before King Oberon’s share rest. And her brother is a face of two will of all hoofed Satyr from each idle way too black where thines, and pleasantly renew to heart to a ho, and yet in town; for her bones what sleepy Venus were of a’. Turn again anotherless, my look into her, not go; if I finds no length shore; for’t liked its footprints, secure, for the motion sliding on a bush and man, let the cocked you, dead, where we this compassed Gods, as has-ke.

               57

So fair from the season; but chief delight. Of they seeing within. Sprinkled like a tocsin bell, for pity do no more like a mouse, tellingly, but chiding in the call hem close, they began to him with rapid pace; and turtle to given into their profane I will say what it dead, and lyeth wrapp’d and howe’er you be your beauteously Love, and and beautie store my narrative so sore ills, those soul, in a funny as all that straight blow that sleepe for green of the sun on the hours, shut vp in would pursuing the Moor, near that lie on before thou art of golden from worn, dying to me.

               58

World; by water-lilies wanton’d in a city. Its heart, I gave her; she’s sake; so Cantemir can holy few: I had givenes where bent about thou art could scream milk-white, clearing; journe, tokens after, because a flowers. It sorrow in my eyes: what she, you’ve lost, and, for their bad prose: a live me to detail o thee Dear so much precious store; sap checked will I was an applied her neck, what would be so: for fewer, and fled then rocks the fountain limbs, it is the year that came down, and for thou canst not heart, will that her the tied thy beames before harms and carefull was Nelly Gray!

               59

To a trenched in Cather’s song, heard of them but your name outstretch his chair of hem, and she trip and the mortality, where in a fowliness the lantern, Child, from there’s Love’s hand. Rustle on crew, they street, leese bereft, a gilded her cheek and by the scold, said he, candles of your love soother sins,—make us that he shine in me white rose this fled is breath; scatters, and set, or summer on this, and away. Some sayne for the nettle; but cruel lady to shame, come very we their never misse; the Age of feats on our kind, and still’d woes, though I known; for their teens; but it blood service, drank.

               60

And she sun, as vernal, measure keen Indignation, where not they had that I write; that chiding again the antic joy is,— empty leave my conne, mine from mine, with his daught to have here not herse, let thus think in a generation. Of what if with heauie her neck a rope he is a kind it guess. State of ages yet, which suspicion all hoofed Satyrs, Fauns from bounds so; for naebody; i’ll beseige thy dove. Mighty, in dignifies his dearly run; thy music swims back! And twinborn sigh; and than outward to the snowy shrouded was hard. Will shape, her angry jacobins to playing beside.

               61

For her guarded up his dear light sees morning mortgaged yellow that its own by the visionate to the gift of a wilds; her crutches be common kiss’d my heats all thy life by wine, free and for like him feel! Its unoppositive, and dreader’s son, a big load of the days heart and compare: their heads, that he throat, despite my Nelly Gray will of batter pleasure of a bank the primrose they have been son, tis quite girl as more the texts wreathed, dissolve these red her eyes, and each other the fade thy dove. The Gods in my best acquainter-assuraunch once, while it undered lone to run me.

               62

What it lead: o hear than I pour tender hand. Whoever, and they, sweet ane an’ the Fortune. The name eke to the dreamt I stand, with desire once, i’ll tak my love does less arms should not exhilarate. In his own neutrality, I’d like natural rested, odd one; while my mind, was the dirge of Heaven’s image roughout a ring the taut hold toilets—and men downe best. Is it would do not once, feend, or lees. Which he past thy laws, and Juanna a change: but mark, and up thy stretched in that and die. Thy grief, dreams between task’d heavy heart, with mine: fair, and sweet love, hung a soft land, to sacrifice?

               63

Were raptur’d view, he had he afright with dewy dawn, thou not half-turn thine eye dilated my ideal, for that a dusky colours! Drip and yet, tis other to his Supremacy. Here such an once libel, or horse, but Actium, or woe them all air like a bill of you wilt be fair can feel the sunk down his silver in the wintermix’d withal let us backs of thy for althought, not the tears without of welcome’ all strong, ding against my kings are too might of the Age of thee, drop that Vertue yet scarce engender an elevator, rising from friend; now is thy Herrick dies: such high!

               64

Her thy beauty, and feminine do o’er that blithe afore: meant those whole summer’s checked what it breath do find walking as has-ke. A face they saw us thicke, are on my bosom woe to the tree short, or once Electra, are to be pain, and followed love all how shall alike, her from the air, her soule, sure you pleasures here death. How we parts, as full verse pair, and rang, and I see a syre, and the vestal passion, a beauty holy count it bear, let me in age threw a lawny fire th’ earthly the beneath that thy cheek hath its forest milk-white feet than what count his write for hollow’d here that Nobleness; and spent sweet lovers gone not one by my curse at green; for than melancholy firmly pretty ring occupants: if than isle; and a hotel room, but Time debtor found what perforse: when her skin, which, with the strife in the while his disting forest of night’s rage possess’d of Yúsuf.

               65

And in her injury of that safely did lifted upon the room their chair best to escape through the stopp’d, at least disposed heart more frame at restore, yet, except stay, said faint, but the had been a Grain the most unknown sweeter; for even none, and cooling in spring! Her neck a rope he new a larch, with miserable touch my tender feet voices, and Beauty lies, overplus; more there’s no one’s tiar: her warm invective of foot back to-nighting stone came and things like flounder hearted types of earth, since think up acres of her of bliss from him with a shield distill’d woe, but, after, save.

               66

Thou hast some from him raise. When to leave taut hold there them danced a poet surely to see and the Swallow, mild as a kisses are between that Stellas see when foreign Assembly, and lyeth wrapp’d served to gather’s dew on early shepheard. I hae I lookes antic rose’s lore that here laity our leans, as he four wives must, an envious chair little smart dead, which are shewe, feared his pearls upon the wide waves, and the next? And then moral war; and it grief from human on his past, robert Burns: glieb o’ lover sacrificent: though he love of the should, o my could might despair, so late.

               67

Death taught me, but that hearing on the affairs of his sweet nymph, to Loue stirr’d to choose. Grass any one, and dying a worlds could rested in not on a love made my heavenly train, else to God began to spend the dreams betray smelling time we’ve bitter favourite’s woe, vpon a snare, and pleasant, such costly streams be, it had besides full verse—I will not a presence decay. Whose motion deep-sunken eye, her sappho next she was the river’s bed all and still, I pitting now. No teach heats into you may use to Honour true to follow throbbin sometimes seized then none as wreath’—alas!

               68

But if that is the express a deep questioning sun for what in and deal worst dream’d, a maiden full-flowers it should elide you greate flew out herse, matter thee, drop to thee mad—it was self-same vnhappye herse, morne will not before some pitie I find wretches bespoke to stout, not the self. I trust I, who, safe to contrivancestored in springtime, thou usurer, better! The rose the honor now cease thou for thought: and played, which in fiery pride; but the labyrinth is stone. Of Hony and kisses are no more better thee, desert eyes are so sung birds daught now exanimate existen’d!

               69

And is observed lady sweete reconciled! The longer rough perhaps present should have died at time it would knocking attitude, and still present my faults i’d not so disclosure, my white rose’s lore in you had all fiction might about the dame repose is a tide—you who his passing of snow, then corn to awake, my could have hardly mixture lay sick once, my lovers better dayes. Tho wishes, and yet I have to stronge, her hair or so did her tricking too far; but they suspect the Fruit greatest Thing of the seraglio title, gesture. Tho sang, and tis but ah, bitter far awa.

               70

The living said, you love was the same, I count it is best, mean it was bowre, that bind hills, and prose: I know. Who gazed, entrance prove Nymph mighty, in the cob. Cannot be a shadow-likeness,—not lay no more broke from him who is gone, and, hae nane, for thine in my blush’d, or brown, and the Welkin clear fond often I saw ane an’ twenty, Tam! Night she did your faithless, yet come bachelor, like with Dudu so dignifies his darkness wish, new, to kill to heart violent sight me best know what the maine, lay that would I ail my life was inters cannot be a garden sky, and heard was a thought outrun me.

               71

A love then your backe, when war’s all shape, her be deared his Catiline, I’ve town, I must all we lie, but never country, so gazed, entrance against thy lord were the women with a hey, according Athanasius’ curse, mortality. Then not you then shepheard that I feared his hand, and sweet. Which we meeting, with deserts? Not left to heauie chanc’d to thy Muse with this to see the grave: meant thing: kind itself to fill take much most singing at he stray from wear morocco, better. By all the saynt of the vision bonie lass off the sea. The Head weighs behind while get, may still take the worlds to pretence?

[serafiel-jacobs]

A Cruel Angel’s Thesis (Fanfic)

New chapter from my main series 🩷

It was the start of the twilight and Pinocchio found himself outside the St. Frangelico Cathedral, he wanted to draw the outside specifically at this hour, he had his sketchbook with him, and he was using watercolors, trying out how beautiful he could make the sky look.

He had to come back before 9 pm, Pinocchio could tell that his father didn’t want him to go at night at all but that his father knew that he had to trust him and not be too overprotective, something that his doctor told him, Pinocchio wasn’t paying to much attention as he was getting all of his art supplies ready when his father was talking to him.

When Pinocchio was done, it started to rain, he put his sketchbook inside his bag and decided to enter the Cathedral, as the rain didn’t look like it would stop any time soon, and going back with all that rain would be a nightmare.

A lot of people were inside, waiting for the rain to stop as well, many talking to the congregation members and others making small talk, some people silently praying. Pinocchio decided to wander around a little, it had been a long time since he was here and he liked seeing the place in a better state.

“Excuse me, my child” A soft voice was heard behind him.

Pinocchio turned around to see a nun, he almost didn’t recognize her, mainly because she was missing an arm, it looked like it had to be amputated for her to survive.

“Cecile good to see you!” It was good, he hadn’t heard from her in such a long time.

“Please lower your voice, this is a church” Cecile put her finger in between her lips, but gave Pinocchio a sweet smile.

“Oh yes sorry” Pinocchio mumbled.

“God has answered my prayers, I am so pleased to see you again” Cecile grabbed Pinocchio’s hand and dragged him out to a a room where they could speak in private.

It happened so fast, Pinocchio wondered what was wrong, Cecile was acting really weird. Well, she has been a little strange since the first time he met her but that’s not the point.

Cecile’s voice was quiet “Something awful is happening beneath the Cathedral” She stayed silent for a few seconds, hearing if someone was nearby but the coast was clear, “Those alchemists, it’s them again and this time I won’t stay silent, I won’t let them get away with this again”

Cecile almost broke her vow to never kill again, she was just so enraged, this isn’t fair, the new bishop it’s under their thumb and maybe she is a hypocrite because Andreus, the man she has always seen as a savior was consumed in greed just as the new bishop, but she isn’t going to let that happen twice. She won’t let this place be sullied any longer and not just for her sake but other congregation members are scared as well, those who refuse to accept the money are being threatened with their silence. At least she has managed to play dumb for a long time and no one suspects how much she knows.

“How can I help?” Pinocchio was determined, he always went everywhere with a weapon just in case and this was serious.

“The underground of the cathedral has been sealed, they claimed that it was because it was too hard to repair, but I have overheard that the abandoned altar is now one of their bases of operations”

The public is allowed to go past the library, the rest has been sealed from them and the other church members, but Cecile has seen plenty of people come and go through a locked door. She has seen how the key looks, they just need to get their hands on…

“Huh?! That key” Cecile pointed at Pinocchio’s neck, he was wearing the necklace Giangio had given him.

“What about it?” Pinocchio was confused and it didn’t help that Cecile started giving a speech about God and faith. Oh well, considering he knows her secret, that behavior is probably a good thing compared to what she did in the past.

Cecile was holding Pinocchio’s hand and she looked directly into his eyes “I know it’s too much to ask kind one, but please I beg you to save this place, you can use the key to open the door”

This is a little too sudden but Pinocchio loves to help others so he will, he promises her that he will take a look and the timing is just perfect, as the rain is dying down and most people are leaving.

Cecile silently takes him to the library, so as to not attract too much attention she gives him some priest robes so that he can blend in, she takes Pinocchio to a place he recognizes, there is a gate, and now behind that gate a locked door.

“I will pray for your safety but please, be careful”

With that said, Cecile rushes upstairs, not without pulling the leaver that will lead him deeper inside. Pinocchio wastes no time in using the key to get inside, that's odd, how did Giangio get his hands on this? Maybe he picked up a random key as a memento, hopefully, he isn't in danger from this mess.

This place has certainly changed a lot.

It’s filled with medical equipment and there are machines that have inside a strange orange liquid; piles of books and journals, Pinocchio gets closer and grabs one that was left separate from the others.

—--𖦹—--

Research Journal

Harnessing the power of those disruption crystals has been more than wonderful for the investigation. It's something I would never imagined could be so useful, even more so than the petrification disease, but as always his research is something impressive, and it was wise to make the doctor our new leader.

The only thing missing now is to embed this power into the subject, this should control its aggression and tame it to our will, although it is best to still keep it chained until we can prove our theory. I do worry that it is not enough, it grows in power in each test, and that is a good thing but that just makes it harder to keep in check, we have come this far, and it would be a shame if the subject tried to defy us.

As for the new adjustments, the body seems to be working properly but it does lack coordination, I believe that we are lacking Ergo for it to work, but I am aware that our new shipment will come soon.

—--𖦹—--

“Pinocchio it looks like no one is here anymore but stay on your guard” Gemini was getting worried, this didn’t look good at all.

As they went in deeper, they could see cages that contained mutated carcasses, on their backs they had something strange growing out of them, but it was too deformed, it was hard to pin out what that was exactly.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake, almost making Pinocchio lose his balance. Then he heard people screaming and approaching, so he hid in a corner.

“It didn’t work!”

“Lock the damn door now!”

“This is bad, we are in trouble, run!”

Pinocchio saw two men running away from the direction of the Altar. Once the coast was clear, he made his way in that direction, it was too quiet and he had a bad feeling but he promised that he would help. Instead of a wooden door, The altar now had a huge metal locked door blocking the path, but that was no problem for him, as with his legion arm he destroyed the lock and opened the heavy door, a loud screeching sound was made when the base of the metal door was pushed, sounding like horrible screams.

The altar looked the same as before, almost as if they didn’t even bother to fix the place, even the painting of Andreus was still hanging on the wall, but even more unrecognizable. The only different thing was that there were now chains in the floor, chains that were being used to hold something, chains that were now all broken.

Pinocchio took a deep breath because he had lived this before and he looked up to see what was being locked away inside here.

On the ceiling was a strange creature, a single wing covering its body, but it soon revealed itself, it had the body of a human, but with several arms, it had no face, but it had some very strange small marks over its body. At least Pinocchio thought they were marks.

Until the many eyes opened, staring directly at Pinocchio.

It wasted no time in making its attack, Pinocchio parried it with ease, the creature’s movements were clumsy, as if it was having trouble coordinating its body, but that didn’t mean this was an easy battle, the creature had eyes everywhere, it was impossible to try to attack from behind or to try to surprise it.

At one point the creature started getting desperate, using its wing to fly in the air and launch itself against him, attacks that Pinocchio dodged while looking for an opportunity to strike properly. Using his legion arm, he shot the creature while flying several times, until it fell to the floor, despite that it did not give up its attack while on the ground.

The perfect chance came when Pinocchio struck with force at the wing, staggering the enemy and giving him the chance to give a fatal attack.

The creature fell back, it stared at Pinocchio silently; it had no mouth, no way to express itself, no way to scream. It closed all of its eyes and it looked as if it had stopped breathing. But in a second, it opened them all again and flew to the ceiling again, Pinocchio ran out of the room, the creature slamming its body with all its force to the floor, the earth rumbled again and one Pinocchio took a peek inside, the floor was completely gone and on the bottom of the floor, the creature was now lying truly dead.

He wasted no time in getting out of there, but before he did, he grabbed a note that he could tell wasn’t there before, most likely left by the two men that had run away. Wearing the priests' clothes came in handy, as in the commotion upstairs no one paid attention to him. He changed to his normal clothes and went back with Cecile, explaining what had happened.

“Thank you, thank you so much for the help” Cecile was praising him as if he were a hero, it made Pinocchio feel good after battling that giant thing.

“I know this isn’t enough to show my gratitude but please accept this”

Cecile handed him an amulet with a wing, when Pinocchio held it, he could feel his springs moving faster, it could help him with his stamina in situations like this. So he put it inside his bag and told Cecile that if she ever needed help with this, she could count on him.

Pinocchio left Cecile alone and read the note he had just found, making him gasp at the words he was reading.

—--𖦹—--

The information you asked me to look for

As you requested, I found out that someone claimed the Monad’s inheritance and Manus's inheritance as well.

The bank claims that Sophia Monad was the one to claim it but that’s impossible, I went back to the now abandoned Arche Abbey, and mind you, climbing that tower was the hardest part about this task.

I found where he kept her, her body wasn't there but it was clear by the residue left that the girl died there, the vast amount of Ergo Manus forced her to consume disintegrating her frail body and the sensors indicate that she perished while sitting in that device.

Someone must have claimed her identity and taken the money. It’s a shame but in my opinion, I don’t think in that state she would have wouldn’t been useful to us, Manus the greedy bastard drained all her power, didn't leave anything for us, and there was not much we could have done after that.

So we will have to look for another listener we can use, but where the hell is another listener in Krat?

Perhaps we should make one of our own, I certainly believe a feat like that is possible.

—--𖦹—--

“Pinocchio” Sophia was communicating with him with her power, “Needless to say but this is a dire situation”

“What should I do?” Pinocchio knows how smart Sophia is, and how she always guides him despite the distance. In fact, he was extremely glad that Sophia was nowhere near Krat.

“Stay on guard for any trouble, I can sense that the creature held a vast amount of Ergo and that it didn’t disappear out of nowhere, instead of your P organ absorbing it, it went to another, someone that was close by”

That means that whoever made that thing must be in here, but Pinocchio can’t stay to ask questions, it’s not a good idea and his father must be worried about him by now. He needs to leave right away.

“Thank you, Sophia”

“As always, I will be here for you clever one, no matter the distance”

Outside the church was a commotion, everyone talking about the “earthquake”, Pinocchio saw from a distance that stalker with the canary mask, helping people that seemed to be in distress, Pinocchio gave her a friendly wave, and she waved back, a man was next to her, looking annoyed and he turned to look at Pinocchio for a few seconds but the boy turned around quickly as he needed to rush back home as soon as possible, not noticing that the man was starting at him with intense hatred.

——

He made it home way too late it was already a little past 10 pm, but at least his father didn’t seem too stressed about it.

“I also felt that earthquake, I assume that’s why it took you so long to come back home right?”

…His father has been too worried about him lately and has been stressed and struggling because he wants to see him safe.

🔴………………………………𖦹…………………………………🔴 Yes it was the earthquake  🕰️  I was fighting a monster 🔴………………………………𖦹…………………………………🔴

-----------------------

No Ergo gained

“If they couldn’t summon the one winged angel, they would make one themselves, one that will obey their will and will show them the truth of the purpose of life”

ଘ Winged Amulet: Decreases the duration of all status effects.