*I both love and hate him to an ungodly amount. He was this entity from a dimension that devours your creativity. I love it so much.*
*Make an OC based on him. Scratch Scott. Something made by Khemet to urge him on.*
*I actually did. When I was first making Scott and Khemet, whom both are based around the Alan Wake verse, when Scott finds the book, Khemet posseses him and takes him elsewhere. When Scott gives into his delusional paranoia and his hallucinations, Khemet takes over. His body becomes paper-like, pages of his own story becoming his skin and falling off whenever he walks. His eyes become black pools of ink and his limbs becomes longer. Butterflies sometimes crawl out of paper like he is a giant cocoon for them. I call him 'The Writer' but that was just a page holder.*
"Yeah, sorry about biting. Though I was right about you being a candy"
"That's okay, I just didnt expect it." She rubs Mary's thigh gently, nuzzling into her.
Mary hums, ordering another ale and offering to get one for reese
Reese accepts, needing the buzz to kill something else.
*murder is fun, Mary would know/js*
She hands Reese the tankard, happily sipping her own
Reese downs it in a few desperate gulps.
Mary hums, watching her drink, amused
It takes an instant effect, and she almost misses the table when she sets down her mug. "mmmm, hey, c'mere sexy." She says while grabbing Mary's face, giving them a long kiss.
*oop,, remember, keep it pg 13*
Mary grabs reeses wrists for a moment, almost pulling back before she hums curiously
*Make an OC based on him. Scratch Scott. Something made by Khemet to urge him on.*
*I actually did. When I was first making Scott and Khemet, whom both are based around the Alan Wake verse, when Scott finds the book, Khemet posseses him and takes him elsewhere. When Scott gives into his delusional paranoia and his hallucinations, Khemet takes over. His body becomes paper-like, pages of his own story becoming his skin and falling off whenever he walks. His eyes become black pools of ink and his limbs becomes longer. Butterflies sometimes crawl out of paper like he is a giant cocoon for them. I call him 'The Writer' but that was just a page holder.*
*Make an OC based on him. Scratch Scott. Something made by Khemet to urge him on.*
*I actually did. When I was first making Scott and Khemet, whom both are based around the Alan Wake verse, when Scott finds the book, Khemet posseses him and takes him elsewhere. When Scott gives into his delusional paranoia and his hallucinations, Khemet takes over. His body becomes paper-like, pages of his own story becoming his skin and falling off whenever he walks. His eyes become black pools of ink and his limbs becomes longer. Butterflies sometimes crawl out of paper like he is a giant cocoon for them. I call him 'The Writer' but that was just a page holder.*
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
*that's awesome :0*
Tycho is on the edge of town, reading a book
Butterflies fly near him, landing on his arm. He feels one bite out a chunk of his flesh, like a horsefly.
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
A dark-skinned, middle-aged woman walks over, tapping her white cane on the ground as her seeing-eye dog tucks its tail between its legs. She's dressed like a fast food waitress, but has a leather jacket over her shoulders covered in monstrous little charms.
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
*that's awesome :0*
Tycho is on the edge of town, reading a book
Butterflies fly near him, landing on his arm. He feels one bite out a chunk of his flesh, like a horsefly.
He hisses in pain, swiftly slicing it in two with a blade the size of a letter opener
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
A dark-skinned, middle-aged woman walks over, tapping her white cane on the ground as her seeing-eye dog tucks its tail between its legs. She's dressed like a fast food waitress, but has a leather jacket over her shoulders covered in monstrous little charms.
"What's up?" She asks, not too concerned by this.
It watches her, little butterflies landing in her bare skin. They bite into her flesh, ripping chunks off and flying away like horseflys. "Hm.. I have not seen you before." The voice says, a light scratching noise emitting from somewhere as it speaks
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
*that's awesome :0*
Tycho is on the edge of town, reading a book
Butterflies fly near him, landing on his arm. He feels one bite out a chunk of his flesh, like a horsefly.
He hisses in pain, swiftly slicing it in two with a blade the size of a letter opener
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
*that's awesome :0*
Tycho is on the edge of town, reading a book
Butterflies fly near him, landing on his arm. He feels one bite out a chunk of his flesh, like a horsefly.
He hisses in pain, swiftly slicing it in two with a blade the size of a letter opener
They run off with their food into the forest.
He growls and follows, dropping the book in his seat
A dark-skinned, middle-aged woman walks over, tapping her white cane on the ground as her seeing-eye dog tucks its tail between its legs. She's dressed like a fast food waitress, but has a leather jacket over her shoulders covered in monstrous little charms.
"What's up?" She asks, not too concerned by this.
It watches her, little butterflies landing in her bare skin. They bite into her flesh, ripping chunks off and flying away like horseflys. "Hm.. I have not seen you before." The voice says, a light scratching noise emitting from somewhere as it speaks
As they touch her skin, they melt away into darkness and merge with her form, completely subsumed. "Nice trick. Maybe don't try using my own domain against me. Just a thought." She hold south a hand, and her dog turns into another talisman and flies to her palm. She hangs it on her coat.
She sits down and pulls out a bento box from her coat. It smells like beef Wellington, Brussels sprouts, garlic, bacon, and potatoes. "You hungry for something that won't eat you back?"
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
*that's awesome :0*
Tycho is on the edge of town, reading a book
Butterflies fly near him, landing on his arm. He feels one bite out a chunk of his flesh, like a horsefly.
He hisses in pain, swiftly slicing it in two with a blade the size of a letter opener
They run off with their food into the forest.
He growls and follows, dropping the book in his seat
The butterflies crawl into Scott's paper skin. He looks up, eyes narrowed.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
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*I agree. It's this fool: https://alanwake.fandom.com/wiki/Mr._Scratch*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Creativity eating evil entity?*
*Cool.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
Mary hums, watching her drink, amused
*I both love and hate him to an ungodly amount. He was this entity from a dimension that devours your creativity. I love it so much.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Make an OC based on him. Scratch Scott. Something made by Khemet to urge him on.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I actually did. When I was first making Scott and Khemet, whom both are based around the Alan Wake verse, when Scott finds the book, Khemet posseses him and takes him elsewhere. When Scott gives into his delusional paranoia and his hallucinations, Khemet takes over. His body becomes paper-like, pages of his own story becoming his skin and falling off whenever he walks. His eyes become black pools of ink and his limbs becomes longer. Butterflies sometimes crawl out of paper like he is a giant cocoon for them. I call him 'The Writer' but that was just a page holder.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*oop,, remember, keep it pg 13*
Mary grabs reeses wrists for a moment, almost pulling back before she hums curiously
*Noice. Use him.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*do itttt, that sounds cool as hell*
Suffering once again from hallucinations, Scott has somehow made it out into the forest. He is dressed in only his suit that he originally showed up in, dirt covering the pants legs, his feet caked in soil. Tears stream from his eyes as he thinks he is holding his dead wife in his hands. Butterflies flit around him, landing on his shoulder. Khemet whispers things into his ear quietly, telling him things that will happen if he doesn't continue writing.
He stands up, his crying turns into mad laughter. His skin becomes paper-like, pieces peeling off as if glued on with a glue stick. His limbs grow longer, creaking as they grow. His eyes become pitch black, rivets of ink running down his cheeks. Butterflies and their larva crawl out from between the pages, fluttering about.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*that's awesome :0*
Tycho is on the edge of town, reading a book
Butterflies fly near him, landing on his arm. He feels one bite out a chunk of his flesh, like a horsefly.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
A dark-skinned, middle-aged woman walks over, tapping her white cane on the ground as her seeing-eye dog tucks its tail between its legs. She's dressed like a fast food waitress, but has a leather jacket over her shoulders covered in monstrous little charms.
"What's up?" She asks, not too concerned by this.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He hisses in pain, swiftly slicing it in two with a blade the size of a letter opener
It watches her, little butterflies landing in her bare skin. They bite into her flesh, ripping chunks off and flying away like horseflys. "Hm.. I have not seen you before." The voice says, a light scratching noise emitting from somewhere as it speaks
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
They run off with their food into the forest.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
He growls and follows, dropping the book in his seat
As they touch her skin, they melt away into darkness and merge with her form, completely subsumed. "Nice trick. Maybe don't try using my own domain against me. Just a thought." She hold south a hand, and her dog turns into another talisman and flies to her palm. She hangs it on her coat.
She sits down and pulls out a bento box from her coat. It smells like beef Wellington, Brussels sprouts, garlic, bacon, and potatoes. "You hungry for something that won't eat you back?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
The butterflies crawl into Scott's paper skin. He looks up, eyes narrowed.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘