#shuck cornelius

[worldssillyestanimal]

siblings and parents plus some other ones

[ramthesillyram]

Hello? Hi? Hello fella?

[residentevillover]

The new art of farmer with Cornelius reminds me of RPG games, the hidden boss about to wreck shit.

If someone tries to hurt angie Farmer will go full John wick

Shucks really?

Idk about hidden boss.. Maybe that one tired npc

[gaunt-and-hungry]

Tissue Pink

A preview of the chapter "Tissue Pink" which introduces Heinrich Cornelius Reiss as an old friend and colleague of Erebus' and how he came along for such a voyage. Current Word Count: 1,159 Content Warnings: Lewd Connotations. Allegories. Heinrich is a bit sexual. Flirtatious.

He must have had the doors replaced, for they were now a rich and ruddy shade of brick that looked far too much like drying blood than paint. The windows upon those doors felt more modern than what he was accustomed to seeing, but nonetheless, Erebus knocked upon them four times, giving a pause and then knowing another four times. His hands, clutching his bag, kneaded tightly into the leather of the strap as he stood upon the frost-kissed stones.

He waited. And then he waited some more. He waited a bit further before attempting to peak through the waves of the glass panes.

Erebus waited a little while longer.

Perhaps the man wasn’t home. He considered turning around and leaving, trying again later that afternoon but instead he waited. The chill of the air had not been enough for him to pull anything more over his shoulders save for a thin woollen overcoat. The autumn was bearing down cruelly. The scuttling of leaves across cobbled steps behind him caught him off guard. And when he glanced behind him he half expected to see someone standing there with how they resembled frantic footsteps. Or perhaps that was his own mind playing upon his worries for when he turned back towards the door it had already swung open, somehow silently and without his noticing, the imposing figure of one Heinrich Cornelius Reiss waiting with expectancy. “Well… Are you going to come in or need I fetch a cup of coffee to lure you into my home?”

“Heinrich,” Erebus gasped, “You damnable man,” his face split into a wide smile at such things and entered quickly, shuddering at the blanket of warmth that enveloped him like a hot bath. 

“I am much, much worse than damndable,” the door was shut and locked behind him. Heinrich was tall. He was elegant and tall and lithe and well formed but like a spirit with how he moved. “I see the cold has not gotten into your bones yet. I think we’ve another month before snow truly comes in full force then, wouldn’t you say?”

“Why do you ask of me?” Erebus inquired, shucking his coat and placing his bag by the door, “It is not as if I know the patterns of weather better than the birds.” He was hanging his coat when the other gripped one of his hands tightly. 

“Ah. But the blood in your fingers tell me otherwise,” He pulled Erebus’ fingers apart in a way that would have made a woman swoon; he manner that he dipped two of his own fingers between Erebus’ middle and ring and then spread them was more than salacious. The gesture was certainly an allegory to the wrong or, perhaps, correct eyes. “Ah. Warm as far as flesh comes,” he nodded curiously, examining the lines and the veins that ran the length of his hand. “I’d say you’re as reliable as birds as far as weather goes. But let’s not use your body for meteorology quite right now. You’ve certainly come for a purpose. You would not have packed a bag as such and judging by the looks of it you’ve packed smallthings.” 

Erebus followed him as he lead the way into the manor. It was a beautiful building in London. From a first impression you would not think a man lived here at all but that this place was a museum and library, an archive. Immediately a stunning display of a skeleton bore down in the centre of the grand foyer, a circular room with marbled and stoned paving that wove in intricate and delicate star-like patterns. The skeleton was that of a Megaloceros, an incredible and sturdy thing with one foot raised as if pointing forwards, prepared to command an army. “He’s new…” Erebus gestured, pausing before him. 

Heinrich, elegant and lengthy in his body leaned like a willow tree, back bend a little as he canted. At this angle he looked like a plank of curved wood, thin and sturdy. His hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, “Yes! I recently returned from Ireland on behalf of a dying friend. He left me a great deal of his belongings and collections. He wished me to ensure that his family got none of his estate and instead it be donated to the London Institute of Magnal Research and distributed to our shared friends. I killed him, of course,” He flashed a wide grin of fondness at this, “Would be cruel of me to leave a friend in need after all. You like him? I’d say he’d make a wonderful figurehead but, alas, those bones would never hold up against the batterings of a life at sea.” 

Erebus took a final look at him before carrying on, following the other into an incredibly unnecessary room that should be a parlour but was more of a place where you would expect the wealthy to corral the guests that they wished to be rid of sooner rather than later. It felt much like a holding room made for the elite. Close to the door and yet the door out of sight so they did not realise they were held as close to the exit as possible. Or, perhaps, this was where Heinrich kept his favoured guests… A place where they could flee if they needed. It was difficult to know with this man. It was just as likely for Heinrich Cornelius Reiss to keep disliked guests near the exits and entrances to be able to sweep them out of his home like filth from his floor as it would be for him to keep them trapped and unable to escape the horrors of his home somewhere in what was surely a labyrinth tomb below. A slaughterhouse that neither man would speak of.

“Have you eaten yet?” He asked, “You look pale. Wine, perhaps?” He offered, situating things as if he lived in a less than perfect home. 

“I could eat,” Erebus stood there, awkwardly in the liminal space between the foyer and the grand hall. What point would there to be for two fireplaces? One on either wall as if they were feeding troughs. He knew deep down in his gut that Heinrich did not spend much time here despite this being the ground floor and so near the kitchen and dining room; which, with the cant of the broad and open arches of stone, he could see straight through like someone had thrust a massive spear through the home, cleaving out a ventricle inside the body of an animal. The walls were healthy tissue-pink with a weave of red like little veins. It was paint. Not wallpaper.

“Sit then. I’ll bring you something,” He did so, picking a corner of the room that felt too much like having been swallowed by something alive. The fireplaces were empty. Hollow. Not even the remains of old logs that would have indicated their recent use occupied them. 

[hes-a-rat-whisperer]

I’m gonna say it here, Cornelius is a dilf

Cornelia went and threw her arms around her husband "you bet he is~!!" she said chipperly, nuzzling her cheek against his'.

"erm- I-" the flushed, mustachioed leprechaun began, but before he could continue that sentence, Guinness threw his arm around him from the other side, chuckling as he gave a wink.

"ah, don't ye even dare object te that! Cornelia knows what she's talkin' about!" he said.

Cornelia's cheeks turned a bright pink and she reached up to cup her hubby's heated cheeks. "that I do~! you may be an excellent baker, dearest- but I know a full course meal when I see one~!" she said cheekily, before going in for a kiss.

"a-aw shucks.." Cornelius said once that heartwarming embrace ended. "you two are too sweet~!" he said, shyly covering his face with his hands. "you're making me blush~!"

"well then, mission accomplished!" Cornelia said. "cheers te that!" Guinness replied.

"uhm..but uh.." Cornelius scratched his head as he spoke up again. "yes dear?" Cornelia replied.

"so..what does 'dilf' mean?"

the two forest elves were left staring at the other..

"well..ah leave ye to it!" Guinness said, before running off to leave the red faced woman to deal with that explanation on her own.

[slashonmydash]

Bobblehead of a notorious rat head wobbler

[sleepy-stories]

A redhead walked towards the school's entrance before stopping in place. She felt as if she was in a dream. This is the place, isn't it? ” She said to herself, her eyes glowing with stars. Her face brought a big smile.

Roger stared at the building even longer; it felt like a dream. Colorful walls, and clean, shiny windows and ground. There are many beautiful flowers on the ground. Some even seem silly to exist. The plants grew close to the wall, as if they were claiming it. As if a small breeze was blowing against you while walking. The atmosphere was pleasant.

‘Oh, wait, it must be the actual wind.’ The rabbit thought.

“I better get moving before I get late. Or worse, get in trouble on the first day.” Roger told herself, once again.

She brought out her left leg to take a step before landing it on an item. It was round, of course. Like a ball. ‘Where did this ball come from?’ She thought.

The ball moved her leg to go back, causing her to trip. Falling face first into the ground. A few people stopped and watched the girl pull herself off the ground. 

Roger groans. 

“A-a-ar how were you?” A voice stutters, changing what they originally are going to say. 

Roger shook her face. “Oh I'm fine, my foot meets a ball tho.” She giggled at herself.

She turned to face the stuttering girl. She had light strawberry-colored hair that curled above her shoulders. It traced over her face that was chubby like her form. 

“Y-y-you should be more careful on whe-ee-are you step,'' the stuttering girl said. 

“I will do but what’s your name?” Roger asked. 

“It’s P-porky Cornelius Washington Otis Lincoln Abner Aloysius Casper Jefferson Philbert Horatius Narcissus P-p-pig. But you can call me Porky o-or Pork-ky pig.” she stuttered through. 

“I’m Roger Rabbit.” The redhead smiled proudly. 

Suddenly, a loud ring could be heard from outside. 

Roger quickly got up and looked surprised, and slightly nervous. present,

“Oh shucks I'm late.” Roger said.

“D-d-don’t worry, it’s j-just the breakfast bell.” Porky stutter. 

Roger walked through the doors of the building while porky followed behind. “Breakfast bell?” Roger questions. They swam through the sea of students and made it to a clear area of the hall. 

“Y-yeah, to mention the very fi-first bell rings for the symbol of the building opening and this is the se-second.” 

“Oh wow.” She looked left and right on a path to her locker. “A-are you new?” Porky asked. 

“Uh… yeah,” Roger answers. 

How did she know, was it obvious? Before she could ask for something to stop her from finding her voice to speak.

“Porky, what are you doing?” A new voice came out of nowhere. This voice seems tough and mean.

“Daffy, come on, she is just being herself and helping out the new student.” The second spoke to defend Porky.

Two girls in their uniforms, like everyone else, came up to them. One was the darkest than everyone in the group, while the other was closely similar to her own. 

“She better not be one of those Fairytale weirdos.” Daffy lisp. “Like your ex.” Bugs butt in.

The darker girl turns to the lighter one giving her a glare. 

“D-don’t mind them, they like to te-tease each other.” Porky stutters.

Roger nodded, not knowing how to respond. 

“I’m just gonna go find my locker on my own, porky.” Roger told her. 

“O-oh okay, but I hope I can see you in my drama class.” Porky said sadly at first, but was understanding of the situation. 

The redhead turned away from the girls and went on her way. 

[swynlake-spill]

Favorite Swynlake cryptid?

Honestly, it’s a tie. On one hand, I’m obsessed with Uncle Waldo. Where did he come from? Where does he go when we’re all not looking? How does he even have enough money for the amount of booze he drinks, and also, where is he getting the booze, because the Moon Market literally no longer sells it to him (I watched Mr. Moon deny Uncle Waldo himself). 

I honestly think he rises from the lake at dawn, it’s the only explanation. 

But you’re right, I said this was a tie. My other favourite cryptid: Cornelius Robinson! I have literally only ever seen Cornelius Robinson in pictures on the Internet and so I can only assume he is a 2D rendering of a person. Like the best cryptids, the most interesting thing about him are the stories that people tell about him. Personally I’m a big fan of reading Franny’s Instagram captions for Cornelius lore alone. Over the past year, they’ve been getting increasingly creative and unhinged from reality to the point where I believe she’s trolling us all-- there’s no way even she can believe her husband, who has not been seen in person since 2016, is that perfect.

Honorable mentions go out to: Dipper Pines’ dye job, Shuck in Chapter Three, and whatever the hell Arawn is

[onabarcells]

Drop // Cornelius // Keigo Oyamada // Japan

------------------------------------------------------------------ Igai shikai hiroi  //  Unexpected, sight, wide Katai kotai hiroi //  Hard, solid, pick-up Nageru haneru //  Throw, skip Oshii kitai chigai // Shucks, expectations, difference Gokai gurai furai // About five times fly Nageru haneru // Throw, skip Sekai hiroi mitai // World, wide, seems like Yurui kaze wo hoho wo // Loose, breeze, brushes, cheek Naderu nageru //  Throw, skip Haneru nageru //  Skip, throw

[gaunt-and-hungry]

The Grace of Wedlock

Heinrich Cornelius Reiss makes a horrible mistake.

Heinrich Cornelius Reiss is a corrupt man that has fallen horribly for a man he should not have. Heinrich is as bad as they come, in fact, worse. Morally corrupt does not even touch the cosmological horrors that he has committed. He is the precursor to nightmares that leak through the fabric of reality in a way that has shaped him into an expert of eldritch anomalies. Attachments? They do not exist. Not in the cosmic expanse of things... Only if someone can keep up. He laughs. Scoffs. Mocks organised religion being a man so far removed from humanity he may as well not even be considered human anymore. So wrought with horrors of eldritch nature and tormented by crimes that weigh like feathers on his blackened hair, he accompanies Captain Erebus Wilbur Flamel on a trailing company to explore the unnatural experiences of the Franklin Expedition. If the expedition is doomed anyway then there is nothing preventing them from picking the corpses of the unusual eldritch nature of things that lay beneath the ice; their aim: to study the horrors that lay in furthest Northern reaches. He finds Flamel's desire to keep as many of the Expedition alive as possible as a futile thing that could compromise their own research. In his hubris, Heinrich finds himself unusually attracted to the least likely of men: Leftenant John Irving. Spoiler Preface: He woos the Leftenant and through incredibly long slow burn opens up his closeted mind and brings an acceptance to John Irving's life that the Leftenant desperately needs. The formidable and indominable Heinrich experiences a crisis. He falls madly in love. `-

And yet Heinrich had not faltered once in his batting of eyelashes and his unusually feminine posture. Once they were off of the theatrics and away from prying eyes it was as if Heinrich simply took a coat off his shoulders and hung it up out of the way. His body posture returned to normal, his tone and gaze returned to that deep and drowning allure that captivated John so very much. It unnerved him a little with how excellent Heinrich was as an actor. And yet, he felt that this part of him he presented was truly himself. That he had shucked himself of all falsehoods and lies and laid himself bare before him, adoring and sweetly, so very much in love with him. With time he had learned how to recognise the subtle gestures that meant Heinrich was lying or painting a fabrication; like he was drawing a curtain around something that was only meant for certain eyes. 

With time out on the ice, John had learned to recognise that unfaltering hand when his, then, fiancée had conducted a mirage to shroud the things that the two of them were doing out there in the frozen North Atlantic ocean. The frozen Arctic was brutal in ways that shook and crippled many of their men. And yet whatever it was that Heinrich bore with him alongside Erebus was something shrouded and secretive until there was no more hiding it and no more need to keep it from the Erebites and Terrors. When they had deemed it safe, they had opened that veil up and allowed them to gaze upon it. 

It was then that Leftenant Irving could truly marvel at the artistry that Heinrich offered in shrouding the truth from others. He may as well have bent reality to suit his needs. He saw how he pulled the curtains to and fro just as easily as slipping into a new set of clothes. But something was different about what had grown between the two of them. There was no shroud. In fact, there was no clothes that Heinrich could wear. It was as if the man felt as if he himself were ill-fitting. He could not offer the same respite and veiling of secrets to Irving that he did to everyone else. Heinrich was, as it were, stripped bare against his own control and volition. There were times that John could see it in his eyes. There was fear there. There was a shame that seemed to itch in Heinrich, like a child that stole a candied apple from a market stall and now lived with the guilt. It came and it went. The explanation came to John as if Erebus could read his mind. He had been watching Heinrich fiddle with an instrument of copper and silver, a structured-like pole that seemed to behave like a lightning rod. Whether it was for the arctic storms that blew over every so often or for some other unknown strange means he did not know.

All the same yet, Erebus had somehow appeared beside him like a shadow or a sliver of darkness. He truly did sometimes live up to that name, disappearing and reappearing places that others did not clearly see him go to and from like a spirit of darkness. “He thinks you are too good for him.” He offered it plainly as if he were commenting on the overcast sky. It was still black as pitch with few stars shuddering between the clouds. The frozen air made them dance in odd patterns that made charting them clearly a challenge at times.

John had looked to Erebus with bewilderment and confusion. “I’m too good for him?” He made a cold-choked breath that should have been a laugh but was more forced than he would have liked. It fell flatly in the air with frozen lips parted and exhaling more frost than he would like. It betrayed his quickened heart.

“We’ve done things, Leftenant, sir,” Erebus never failed to assure he was polite and cordial, respectful. At first Irving had taken it as mockery. No such thing lingered in Erebus’ mouth ever when he addressed people of rank. There was a cold honesty here that chilled Irving more than the fifty below. “He and I often fail to see ourselves as good people,” he continued as if it were a casual conversation, “I’m not a good man. I know this. Really, neither is Heinrich. Morality is sometimes grey. Sometimes," he shifted in the cold, stomping his feet. His eyes struck something sharp inside of Irving that had him quivering. There was a pause and a deep breath as he exhaled, "In order to do good you must do bad. This world is not painted in black and whites but a spectrum of colours that might startle you when you see that you’ve drenched yourself in reds.” He sighed something fierce then, his eyes looking down as if in shameful thought, “He thinks you are too good for him. He thinks he does not deserve you. He does not feel he deserves anything as good as you and that he does poorly by you as if sullying. He would give up so much,” Erebus was beaming at him at those last words. Something sinister almost was at play, something that Erebus knew that Irving did not.

It was just a month ago that Erebus had told Irving about the unusually intimate and close bond he shared with Heinrich - one that the two of them now shared rather deeply. It, however, seemed that it did not phase either man. There was no jealousy or concern. In its wake a burning fire was left that ushered the two of them together closer than kindling. Erebus nodded firmly, a smile on his lips as he watched Irvings understanding, “So much,” he spoke again but so quietly. “So so very much. Why shouldn’t he? It’d be good for him, I think,” his voice carried as if he were speaking to himself then, Heinrich measuring something on the rod stuck into the ice. “He wants this. He fears he is unworthy of you. It’s a self measurement." He continued almost whimsically, "When nothing in the world can keep you in check you learn to keep yourself in check less you become consumed by your own ego. You both deserve this happiness, I think.” Erebus patted a hand on Irving’s shoulder and he realised then that his knees were weak, his body buckling. Erebus was a good head shorter than him and yet he almost crumbled to the ice when he did so.

He left him like that, standing and awkward as he watched Heinrich curse and fuss with collapsing metal rods, “Your watch is up, by the way,” he had walked off but turned, taking his steps backwards with confidence, “Leftenant Hodgson is on his way to replace you. Goodnight, Leftenant Irving,” he waved. He could only offer a limply raised wrist that did not make it all the way to a salute. His knees felt the same at this time.

He felt weak in the knees and far too warm in this chapel, his body burning with a heat and not the cold of the Arctic as before; a heat that he prayed did not reach his face and flush his cheeks too deeply. Especially not when Heinriette walked down that aisle all veiled and stunning. Irving had to remind himself of his lines. He had to remind himself when to kneel. He had to remind himself what to say and when to stand. He had to remind himself to breathe for the love of God. `

[hes-a-rat-whisperer]

my ocs reaction to being told “I love you”

Alistair: “...you´re kidding..right?”

Guinness: *chokes on his drink in a “this is very unexpected but I am so very pleased to hear that” kind of way*

Cornelius and Cornelia: “AAAAW!! we love you too!!” *hugs you a bit too tight*

Gosgo: “really?? oh wow!! I love you too!! so so so so much!!” *starts jumping around like the lovely kangaroo dog he is*

Elijah: “aw shucks..you´re a real prize yourself~” *suddenly blushes and panics* “wait! no! I´m not saying you´re a ´prize´ as in- a trophy or anything- I just- uh...can we start over?”

Lilith: *hides behind her hair, giggling* “oh my! that´s a bit sudden~ but thank you~ I love you too, dear~”