#though i did start this morning and for a comic this size i'd call that impressive

[lunarflare64]

Can someone track my behaviour via post over the past, idk, three days or so and make sure that if I'm ever acting like that again someone gets on my ass to make sure I'm not drawing a comic

[mocha-gladiator]

Release the info dump doc of Typhon and Rhoda pleaaaaaaase

ok but you have been warned this is literally just a jumble of Notes and Ideas this is not a story and it is not polished At All this was intended for my eyes only but here u go

(Continuation of comic, starting where the last one left off)

"Have you tried eating?"

"Yes, for fomal events. I purge it afterwards, though. It...feels strange to me. I can't use the goods the way you do."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of someone being sent here and living. Save for short missions."

"Well what did you do to upset your god? Maybe you can ask forgiveness."

"I...don't think that they will accept. I refused to attack during a guard assignment and one of my own was killed because of it. I'm a shield guy, not a warrior. I'd gotten by with it until then, but...I'm a pacifist. I'm useless to them."

--

Typhon gets weak after the third day and, thinking he's going to die, rhoda lays down beside him and holds him like a teddy bear, comforting him. The next morning he is nowhere to be seen and she assumes his kind will dissipate when dead, but he later wakes her with quite a fright, as he is now his full height and very excitable. This summons her bodyguard from outside her room.

Typhon's arms are on either side of the bed, on the floor, and yet he still hovers over her in an awkward position as the door opens.

The guard points his spear at typhon before rhoda can call him off. Typhon is more confused than anything at the threat. After things calm down, he takes the human's helmet off and pets his head.

"Lady Rhoda??"

"Typhon, stop. He doesn't like it."

"Oh."

Once he stops, he offers the helmet back, tiny in his massive palm.

Typhon sits on the bed and it creaks under the weight. The mattress flips up at either end, causing Rhoda to slide against his side making a wide-eyed expression. After a moment she notices how soft his feathers are. She explains who the guard is and gives his name. He is an attractive man without the helmet, which he has stowed under his arm for the moment. Typhon introduces himself.

"So we're in the same line of work," he says, much to everyone's confusion. He gives a strange salute. "Nice to meet you, [x]."

at this point, Rhoda can no longer stand it and reaches up to run her fingers through the soft down, causing typon to still and close his eyes. After a moment, he starts to emit a soft rumbling sound.

"YOU FUCKING PURR?"

Typhon's expression flashes surprise before responding. "I suppose so. Do you like it?"

"I...uhm...s-sure."

"Should I continue?"

"No."

--

"No matter where you are, I'll hear your call for me."

--

When there seems no other way out, rhoda asks typhon to attack, which he refuses at first. He finds a second way, to burn her binds. This looks like he is burning her too. It melts the binds and her clothes. his eyes and face are a frightening mask

after escape, he sits hunched on the grass, facing away from her. "My fire cannot hurt you," he says quietly, ashamed.

rhoda does not respond, instead asking for his cloak to clothe herself. Her words are emotionless after she puts it on, then commands him "Take me home." He does not show emotion save for a slightly crinkled brow as wetness streaks from his eyes and down his face as they fly.

later the next morning he is nowhere to be found. she goes outside and calls for him, knowing he can hear her. He arrives, but much smaller. A short human size.

--

is there a way to make typhon use his fire ? he would be mad if rhoda used it against his will, especially to attack.

--

After awhile, typhon will get stronger, horns grow, and potentially have blackish hands ? "I've been in this world too long." Worried about devilish appearance

--

would create a lot of tension if they had a big disagreement and were against each other for awhile. I don't know how Typhon would stay alive though. It would have to only be for a few days I guess.

Typhon could eventually break the need for care by becoming a god himself. Don't need to ask a god for care and forgiveness if you are one

--

his laurels grow from his head. they can be cut like hair.

[thecheckeredchaser]

Ch 3

Insured Gains

Chapter 4- Plenty to Hide

Alexis woke up the next morning, eager to get to work. She loved to be in Jake's presence. He was intoxicatingly hot, a true commander, and she loved to make him all mushy and embarrassed, the exact opposite of how he presented regularly.

She was applying light makeup when she got a text. She lit right up when she saw it was from Jake Andrews.

"Good morning Lexi,

Can I call you about something? It's important."

She was surprised he didn't sign the text, but called right away.

"Hey," he said, sounding flustered.

"Hey what's going on?"

"I'm gonna skip the part where I'm super mortified, because we have to be in the office in an hour. None of my suits fit. I need you to go to Coleman's and purchase me some, probably 4. Dark gray, black, blue, maybe a pattern. They know all my information in the system. Just one size up," he said, with an audible grimace.

"Of course I can do that. The store is right around the corner from me."

"Yea I know," he said, absentmindedly. Alexis paused.

"You know my address?"

Jake stuttered, "Oh! I just happened to notice your street when I got your file. I just know that area well. Nothing creepy, I promise." Alexis laughed.

"Ok, no worries. Should I bring them to your house?" she asked. She was disappointed when he said to meet him in the parking garage. He was very concerned with being late, which she understood because he was never late. He was typically 30 minutes early, and if he was late for being early, he was still on time by 5 minutes. She wondered how many things in those close mornings he prioritized work over. How many pots if coffee got left unpoured? Did he ever make the bed? He seemed the type to never forget either.

She hurried to Coleman's and walked briskly up to the counter, taking a moment to notice how fancy the men's formal store was. The benches to try on your shoes were practically full lounge couches. There were a few very important looking men browsing around.

"Good morning, I'd like to purchase some suits for Jake Andrews." The gentleman behind the counter smiled and started clacking on the computer. She gave him the colors he wanted.

"Same size on file?" the man asked.

"One size up," she said as evenly as she could. She didn't want to come off as celebratory, though she felt it. The man, Charles, she noticed his tag, lowered his eyes skeptically.

"Who are you?" He asked inoffensively.

"His personal assistant," she said. His look eased up.

"Listen, I work closely with Jake as well. This is not his first upgrade. I would recommend getting at least 2 more the next-next size. What do you think?" She could hear the genuine concern for Jake and any foreseen inconvenience that may be on its way.

"That is probably not a bad idea."

"Everyone loves Jake. But he needs to be honest with himself. He isn't guaranteed to stabilize just yet." She offered a small agreeing nod. She did think it was a bit wishful to buy 4 new suits only one size up, when he clearly had outgrown all his others, seemingly overnight. How long would he wear them?

"Let's get another gray and blue." They surprisingly had all available, and Alexis was on her way. She got to the garage with 20 minutes to spare. She parked next to Jake's SUV. And got out of her car, laying the suits on her arm. Jake came out to the passenger side of his car and accepted the garments. Alexis inspected his outfit, and giggled. He wore black jogger sweatpants, which were more trendy than she would expect, and a white t-shirt, that seemed to highlight his thickness without being tight at all. On his feet he was already wearing his brown dress shoes which seemed to stick out comically long from the tapered ankles of his sweats.

"Cute outfit," she giggled. He gave a playful look.

"You're teasing me. I feel like my clothes have been doing that all morning." He opened the spacious back seat up and put the suits on the seat, pulling the black shirt that was hanging from the interior hook. He started putting it on and she passed on the changes made to his order. "Charles suggested that?" He asked, a touch of concern in his voice. Alexis didn't want to get him in trouble.

"I think he was just looking out for you. So you weren't pulling the morning suit alarm again."

"No, it makes sense. I appreciate you making that decision." He looked at the items. "And you got the two extra in my favorite colors," Jake beamed.

"You look killer in them," she said, watching him put on his blue tie. Hot.

"Thanks Lexi," he said, smiling adorably. "Well I'm gonna put the rest on in the car. I'll see you up there in a few." She wanted to kiss him, but decided now was not the time. She turned to walk, and he caught her hand. "Thank you for your help Alexis." He held her gaze a moment and let her hand go.

"Anytime," she said warmly.

She got her computer warmed up and started gathering the materials for that day's meeting. Jake came in shortly after, walking, but giving the energy of someone twirling around. He stopped in front of her and actually spun around. "What do you think?"

"You are fishing for compliments you know you deserve. It looks great." The gray suit with the black, blue, and brown was working too well.

"It certainly feels great. I appreciate you not laughing at me on the phone. I spent 10 minutes debating if I had to ask you. Which only made me lose more time." He put his hands in his pockets.

"I'm here for you Jake. No matter what." He nodded and looked at his watch.

"I'm going to get ready before we go, in about an hour. You are going to take the minutes, correct?"

"Yes Mr. Andrews," she said, smirking.

"Excellent. We'll go in a bit." He went to his office and started his business.

Jake and Alexis made their way to the conference room to meet with the lawyers and representatives for Cedar Pines, an apartment complex. They had recently had a fire and the building needed major repairs. When they walked in, some people were already seated, chatting amongst themselves. The room got significantly quieter, which Jake had to be used to, since people didn't tend to speak freely in front of a CEO. Alexis sat next to him and took out her laptop.

A lawyer walked in and clapped Jake on the back before sitting near him. "I'm exhausted this morning, forgive any yawning from me."

"It's quite alright Brian. I hadn't had my coffee this morning either." Jake leaned toward Alexis his cologne entrancing her senses. "Are you up for a coffee run?" He asked her discreetly. She nodded. Jake asked the group for their orders and Alexis scribbled them down. "Get some kind of baked goods too."

She returned with the coffees and a platter of breakfast danishes and donuts for the group. Whatever they had been discussing in her absence, seemed to be put on hold.

"Jake, I had hoped that we'd get something special. Your company always pulls through," one meeting member said.

"Well Alexis is a super assistant. All thanks goes to her," he said looking at her with a subtle grin. Alexis beamed back and offered a welcoming smile to the rest who offered genuine thanks.

The meeting resumed and Alexis took very detailed notes. She felt like a stenographer in a courtroom, and with all the lawyers she figured it was pretty appropriate to feel that way. Brian really argued well for his company and was able to get them a mostly perfect deal. He and Jake had gotten slightly heated during a part of the negotiation relating to vandalism faced after the incident, requiring an additional claim. Jake remained firm and forced them to agree to the extra fees for the extra claim. Alexis was enamored by how he commanded the room, soaking up the power pouring out of him. He closed the meeting up and offered everyone to take more of the baked goods. Brian gathered his belongings and reached out to Jake for a shake.

"Softer edges does not mean softer in the meeting room, eh Jake. Still the "no bull' bull". Nice working with you, always."

"Been getting called soft more than the bull stuff lately. Don't know who started that nickname, but it was fun for a while. But it's also a pleasure to see you again Brian." When they cleared the room, he shot an annoyed look at Alexis, who he knew had been listening. "Little comments like that are starting to really annoy me,” he confided to her, flustered. He noticed the platter on the table with the desserts and sighed. "How are we gonna get rid of these?"

"Maybe I got too much," she said, worried she'd bothered him further.

"No, they were just being modest. People tear food up here. You can only fail without enough when it comes to corporate junkies. Coffee, donuts, bagels. It's the language they speak." Alexis transferred the remaining 7 treats onto a plate she found in one of the cupboards of the meeting room. They went back to their floor and she followed him into his office and placed the plate on his desk. "Is that a smart place?" he questioned.

"I know so," she said, taking a lemon filled danish and returning to her desk coyly. Alexis wanted to make sure that she was getting her job done, despite how thrilling it was to flirt all day at work. She had responsibilities that had pretty big consequences if she neglected them, mostly impacting Jake directly. After getting a few things done. She glanced over at the window into Jake's office and unfortunately could not see more than the length of his back. He was leaning over toward his second monitor. She wondered if he had taken any of the desserts. He wasn't the type to hold back, especially when he was alone. Alexis knew Jake consumed way more at home. He had to. She saw him eat plenty at work, but he was constantly thinking about the politics of eating food at work. She imagined at home, his consciousness was the only limit. She had really wanted to see his house that morning, just the outside would be enough. She liked messing around at work, but would kill to stretch out on a couch together, watch tv, and lazily make their way to bed. Her biggest fear was that the normal stuff was the biggest fantasy she had. Feed her boss and call him a pig, easily done. Get into a romantic relationship and be his genuine girlfriend, fully on pause. He had asked her before, and she put it fully on the table, but didn't want to open herself to rejection. She'd have to disappear if that happened.

She eventually convinced herself she had reason enough to go and see him, to confirm a date she was already sure of. She pushed open the door just as Jake picked up a treat. "What? Do you have a sixth sense?" Alexis giggled.

"I just wanted you to confirm," she trailed off, as he took a bite into the Boston cream donut. "I just wanted to see you," she said. honestly. Jake smiled, clearly flattered.

“I’m still getting used to that,” he thought a second and added, “Go get your laptop, or notebook, something.”

“What for?” she asked, ready to take the orders.

“So it looks like we are working in here,” he said confidently. Alexis hopped up and grabbed her laptop, notebook, colored pens, and pad of sticky notes. She scrambled back in and sat across from him. She surveyed the desk and could see there were two desserts left on the plate. She looked up at him and saw he had been watching her, his brows lowering. “Are you calculating? Desserts?” She smiled guiltily.

“I don’t even know how many I had,” he said, looking a touch concerned.

“Genuinely?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“I think I just had two….three,” he said, indicating the donut he just started. Alexis smiled at him, completely eating up the moment. She was thinking he must block out some of the things he eats. Maybe it was due to the pace he took.

“There were seven. I took one,” she said, holding up a finger. “Making six.” She looked down at the plate, his donut on the napkin, and shot a mockingly quizzical look at his belly. Jake could be seen running the numbers.

“This is my fourth?” he said, looking surprised. His arm brought the donut to his mouth and he took a bite, seemingly to help him think on it. Alexis giggled at this. “I know,” Jake said, laughing a little himself. “The worst part is, I was just starting to think about lunch.” Alexis felt herself getting hot. He really was indulgent.

“Worst part,” she said, fake confused. “Maybe you should finish what you are already eating before you decide that you are ready for lunch.” Jake looked at her in disbelief.

“I think I know. I’m not proud, per se, but I have been thinking about getting a grinder since this morning. And I know exactly where from,” he said, dreamily, taking another big bite.

"The Cut, on Wetmore street. If I had to take a guess." He raised his eyebrows. "I know you better than you think, Jake Andrews."

“I’m impressed. But I think you had ulterior motives encouraging your remembering,” he said with a pointed stare, finishing the donut.

“Sort of like my address?” Alexis said, smiling smugly.

“Fair.” He shrugged and looked at her. She stared back, blankly. Jake cleared his throat and clasped his hands. “I don’t wanna kick you to the road, but the sandwich situation needs to be prioritized. Emergency levels.”

“Are you actually that hungry?” she said getting up to leave. She was a little doubtful that he could truly be so famished.

“I thought you were supposed to be judgment free.”

“I am not judging you. I’m gone. Steak and cheese?” she asked, hanging on the frame. He gave her an affirming look, and she hurried out.

Alexis returned with the food. A whole grinder for Jake, and a salad for herself. She also got a bottle of coke and tea. Jake accepted the sandwich very gratefully. “Thank you for getting this. Sorry if I was a little hangry. I have just been waiting for this moment,” he said, rewrapping the paper around the first half of his sandwich.

“I find your enthusiasm very endearing.” He gave her a playful wink and started on the sandwich.

“Wow. It is better than I had been imagining.” Alexis was absolutely taken with the ravenousness her boss had been exhibiting. She noted that she had seen such behaviors within days of transferring to his office. His patterns became apparent pretty quickly. She just got a much more up close and exclusive view of him now. He was eating the grinder half so greedily that Alexis was starting to squirm in her chair. He reached for the Coke, and took a drink. He took another hungry bite, and was interrupted mid chew by a big burp. He put his hand on his belly and looked up at Alexis, cheeks slightly reddened. She couldn’t get over how hot he was.

“I am literally so turned on by you, Jake.”

“I know, I’m a huge pig,” he said, running his hands over his belly. “I am still a little surprised you find this so sexy,” he said, tearing another big bite out of the grinder, catching a drip of juice before it hit his shirt. “What’s the appealing part?” he asked curiously. Alexis was intrigued by the question.

Ch 5

[asquishyfish-blog]

I’ll Never Forget My Lego Project

Legos have always been a staple in my life since before I could even form long-term memories; everyone in my family, from my mom, Evangeline Dennison (who was born shortly after the introduction of the Lego brick in the USA in 1958), and her five brothers: Kenny, David, Jerry, Tommy, and Joseph on down the line played with them when they were kids and in turn afforded themselves the luxury of playing Legos with their own children. Those tiny little colored bricks provide such a simple, yet rewarding experience spending hours meticulously crafting an infinite amount of sculptures, contraptions and attractions. My uncle Joseph, the youngest, always tells me about how when I was around two and three years old, he'd always build these cities and giant buildings out of Legos and then pull me out of my crib and unleash "Baby Godzilla" on the innocent Lego men and women in the white and the red-blue buildings he'd built just to watch me destroy them, only for him to joyfully rebuild those skyscrapers for the creature from the deep to strike at over andover, every time he babysat me. From those days back in the early 1990's on Legos have remained a mostly cheerful constant, always holding some varying degree of importance in my daily life, and at times has also served to be a painfully nostalgic reminder of the nature of the world. It was a cold, damp Tuesday; right at the end of a short New York summer, and I was two and a half weeks into my first year at Port Jervis Middle School. It had been getting colder for about a week and a half so all the kids had started wearing pants, long sleeves, and sweaters, and they had just come out with these comic book character inspired hoodies you could zip up over your face like a mask (imagine Venom from Spider-Man), although I had never owned one. Strange, but true, the only homework assignment I'd been given so far was in my sixth period art class; we had to use a less traditional medium to portray any scene related to art history. Immediately, I'd decided to use Lego bricks and paint Lego man heads in a Warholesque manner depicting the Marilyn Diptych paintings--which were really just a bunch of Marilyn Monroe faces that were painted in mostly bright, contrasting colors-- on a Lego frame. I was more than happy to do it; I'd grown up with Legos and I was one hundred percent positive I'd come with at least a decent concept. I could visualize what my project would look like completed--a Lego frame about the size of a wide view photo with that famous"multiple colors of the same face" look decorated on the visages implanted in my creation--and that thought blew my excitement up for an opportunity to display a bit of creativity with the help of that years birthday presents. I'd arrived to school that morning enthusiastically looking forward to my sixth period art class in the basement of the building, hoping the morning flew by so I could show off my award winning project and maybe get it displayed in the hallway for everyone to marvel at. First period english with Mr. Lenardo was always a riot; we would laugh and joke and get off topic and talk about sports and what everyone did over the summer often, as opposed to reading, because what we were really there to learn in English class, at least according to Mr. Lenardo, was life. It was a profound concept to me but it was interrupted by the announcement speaker, and several people were being called to the front office from multiple classes all over the school in droves, and I couldn’t help but hope I wasn't one of those people because Mr. Andre, our Vice Principal, had already become notorious for being the guy "you don't want to piss off," so I usually did my best to avoid him. Twenty-five minutes into class and six students had left the room. The bell rang, and everyone shuffled out of their desks in a hurry to file into the hallway to meet up with their friends. That time in between classes was one of the most rewarding parts of being in middle school for me; it was the first opportunity I'd had as a child to go to school with children who weren't exclusively from inner Port Jervis. Now that I'd gotten to seventh grade, there were a larger pool of kids to befriend because they were coming from all over the area; people were coming from Greenville, Sparrow Bush, Hugenot, Cuddebackville, even Montague, New Jersey and over the Hudson River bridge into Matamoras, Pennsylvania. In between classes I run into my friends Ben and Justin, cousins who had recently moved to Port Jervis from Brooklyn, New York and the three of us walk to our lockers to exchange one heavy textbook for one or two other heavier ones. When I opened my locker, they both couldn't help but notice the golden glow of my eccentric modern art masterpiece emanating through the clutter which was the top shelf of my locker, and were exponentially more powerless to stop themselves from commenting on "how dope that shit is bro." We walk to math class together and sit down, but before we had a chance to finish our discussion and pull out our books, there was another announcement over the loudspeaker. Five more kids, including Ben and Justin, were sent to the office and it wasn't until that point that I'd realized none of the original six kids from my first class had ever returned. They had to have gotten in trouble and I was excited to figure out what they'd all done once school was out later on. I joked with Ben and Justin that we'd never see each other again as they walked out of class to the main office but reminded them to keep me in the loop when we ran back into each other on the bus later. "I bet it's some kind of a prank or something," I remember saying to my two best friends (and also my neighbors), Marcus and Anthony, in study hall. We were supposed to be quiet in that class but not knowing where all of these students were going each class, including this one, was plaguing us. The only other thing we were able to come up with was Kevin saying they must have caught head lice and were being sent home, "so that the rest of us wouldn't get infected." "That's not so bad," we joked, because there were so many good video games out that needed to be beaten (The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask had recently come out, along with Resident Evil: Code Veronica, and Final Fantasy X being hot commodities). It had gone and turned into such a big joke throughout the course of class ending that I'd even forgotten about my Lego project momentarily. We laughed until we were envious, saying it was a lucky day for so many people to get head lice. As soon as I made it to my next class, science with Mr. Cunningham, we got right to it and started trying to figure out who was going to win the jackpot and get sent to the office to go home and play video games (or for the girls, go home and sleep). Three more students gone and science was over in a flash. I was in the hallway headed to lunch when another announcement was made over the loudspeaker: "Students of Port Jervis Middle School, this is an emergency muster. If you are on the first floor, go to the gym. If you are on the second floor, head to the assembly room. If you are on the third floor, go to the cafeteria.""There goes lunch," I thought, as I was eating and watched the cafeteria quickly turn into standing room only. Once everyone from the third floor had shown up, Mr. Cunningham had quieted everyone down so that he could finally share whatever the big secret of what was going on with the collective. Once he had achieved silence though, rather than say anything he and the rest of the other adults in the room had begun turning on all the T.V.'s 

                                                           and I was immediately horrified;

the Twin Towers in New York City had been hit by two hijacked airplanes and were crumbling before my eyes on television. The blonde female reporter was in the streets of New York City where everything, including the people, were covered in a thick brown-black cloud of dust, soot, and ashes, and she was trying to force the story through a violent, inaudible sob, but the facts were already written there for everyone to read: "HIJACKED PLANES DESTROY TWIN TOWERS AND HIT PENTAGON IN DAY OF TERROR." After about a half hour or so had passed, the teachers and monitors had lowered the volume and instructed us that we would remain in the school until either our parents had come to get us, or the President had given a message that we were safe. I worried about my mother, a teacher in Middletown High School, and if I would ever see her again. We would come to find out more details about that other plane that hit the Pentagon, that they were hijacked by terrorists from the Al Qaida terrorist sect from the middle east, and another plane had been hijacked and flown in the direction of either Camp David, the Presidential retreat, or quite possibly the White House itself but had crashed in western Pennsylvania. There were also reports of a bombing in the Lincoln Tunnel, somewhere I had been just weeks ago to see the Empire State Building. One of the most truly terrifying parts of it all was watching people jumping from the windows of the upper stories of the Towers because they had to make the difficult decision to be burned alive in a building that had already started to collapse, or to test the grim possibility that they would survive the fall to the ground somehow. Everyone, including the teachers and monitors, was crying there together in the cafeteria and one girl, Ashley Gaid, had a panic attack early on and couldn't breathe so she ended up leaving in an ambulance. Perhaps the most petrifying reality of it all was this: if two skyscrapers in the center of the most populous city in the United States of America wasn't safe, along with the Pentagon and four passenger airplanes, how could we (or anyone else, for that matter) be safe from harm? Faculty members had us performing air raid drills underneath the tables in the cafeteria like they might have done when they were children, and I couldn't stop worrying about my friends, family, and all of the people in New York City and anywhere else who were either directly or indirectly affected by this tragedy. In the end, most of us weren't released from school until around 6:30 that night. Seeing parents pick up their kids was bittersweet; I was happy to see them together, but I still hadn't spoken to anyone in my family so I wasn't able to rest assured they were okay.My mother had come to get me right as the last group of students were leaving and when we saw each other we instantly embraced and cried together in the front office of Port Jervis Middle School like so many other families had probably done that morning as they picked up their children from school in the midst on a national emergency. I threw my Lego project away after about a week of it sitting on a desk in my room, unable to bear the constant reminder of the fragility of life that it came to symbolize to me.