In a lake of fire stands a half-finished god, a colossus that towers over you in soul-wrenching splendor. This is your god, the true god, and you approach him with an offering of fresh, blue, dripping meat. In his gaping chest sits a beating heart, blue and breathtakingly radiant in its divinity, kintsugi craftsmanship filling the cracks that spderweb across its surface and down into its heart with pure, shining gold. The organ has a halo unto itself, almost blinding. Like a flock of celestial attendants, dozens of hands reach around it, beckoning you.
He might be poifect, but he still needs you. He needs you to complete him. You want that more than anything, right? To complete him?
The offering you've brought him is pure, stripped of anything unnecessary. You always put the utmost care, the utmost devotion into your work, for Inspekta doesn't deserve anything less. He deserves only the finest offerings, and you know he'll use it to make things right.
But it's not enough. It's never enough. You've never been enough.
As you step forward, the hands reach past the offering, grasping at you, grappling at you, pulling you in as you find yourself being drawn into his chest along with his magnificent heart. It's warm, it's hot, it's burning as you find yourself pressing against his full glory. There's a deafening sizzle, like meat on the grill; it's you.
It's early afternoon when the front door of Capochin and Hector's home, the newest iteration of the Bizzyboy's headquarters, jingles as Basira returns from her job. It was an easy enough affair, helping an older dwarvish woman lift flower bins, and it's right around lunch. The bosses made it clear that Bizzyboys can linger around and have their lunch at headquarters if they so chose, and she thought to bring it with her for once, so what harm is there in taking a break and resting her shoulders after a few hours of heavy lifting?
Hector seems to be out, likely for work, so as she passes by Capochin's office after grabbing her personal bag, she gives a short wave, casual as ever. "Ms. Bayldona's job is done. She sent some food to share, I left some in the fridge for you and anyone else who wants it. I'm taking lunch before the next one, if there's nothing else that needs anything right away."
[Moving to a different place had always been an idea that terrified Basil- he had plenty of plants and gardening supplies at home, moving them would be a logistic nightmare. He knew his parents loved traveling, it was the main reason Basil barely had any memory of them since he was a child and barely remembered their voice, but moving from Faraway wasn't for him.
That being said... he had no choice but to adjust to a new, different enviorment now that he was... dead.
Afterlife was not as he imagined it would be, not as the local preacher told everyone it would look like- no fire and brimstone, merely houses, a rather weird place and technology that felt right out of an old book. And, speaking of the current level of technology- it was the main reason he left his current place, He couldn't understand how to use the washing machine. At all. And if he was to find work as a farmer, he couldn't just wear the same dirty clothes everywhere, right?]
Come on, Basil...
[He hesitated in front of the door, one hand raised to knock. This was a place of people who could 'help with anything', right? Even... basic lessons on how to use stuff around his house? Basil bit his lips before hesitantly hitting the wooden surface. He only had 100 brass to his name and, considering he still had to adjust himself to the new currency, he had no clue if that was enough or not.]
A Dream (Late Februrary) [cw: burning, body horror, self-mutilation]
Date: 2025-02-24 04:35 am (UTC)meat. In his gaping chest sits a beating heart, blue and breathtakingly radiant in its divinity, kintsugi craftsmanship filling the cracks that spderweb across its surface and down into its heart with pure, shining gold. The organ has a halo unto itself, almost blinding. Like a flock of celestial attendants, dozens of hands reach around it, beckoning you.He might be poifect, but he still needs you. He needs you to complete him. You want that more than anything, right? To complete him?
The offering you've brought him is pure, stripped of anything unnecessary. You always put the utmost care, the utmost devotion into your work, for
Inspektadoesn't deserve anything less. He deserves only the finest offerings, and you know he'll use it to make things right.But it's not enough. It's never enough.
You've never been enough.As you step forward, the hands reach past the offering, grasping at you, grappling at you, pulling you in as you find yourself being drawn into his chest along with his magnificent heart. It's warm, it's hot, it's burning as you find yourself pressing against his full glory. There's a deafening sizzle, like meat on the grill; it's you.
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From:cw: body horror continues, burning alive
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From:Any Old Day, Bizzness As Usual (Workplace Bonding!)
Date: 2025-03-30 03:26 am (UTC)Hector seems to be out, likely for work, so as she passes by Capochin's office after grabbing her personal bag, she gives a short wave, casual as ever. "Ms. Bayldona's job is done. She sent some food to share, I left some in the fridge for you and anyone else who wants it. I'm taking lunch before the next one, if there's nothing else that needs anything right away."
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From:Settling in - Late May
Date: 2025-05-28 04:24 pm (UTC)That being said... he had no choice but to adjust to a new, different enviorment now that he was... dead.
Afterlife was not as he imagined it would be, not as the local preacher told everyone it would look like- no fire and brimstone, merely houses, a rather weird place and technology that felt right out of an old book. And, speaking of the current level of technology- it was the main reason he left his current place, He couldn't understand how to use the washing machine. At all. And if he was to find work as a farmer, he couldn't just wear the same dirty clothes everywhere, right?]
Come on, Basil...
[He hesitated in front of the door, one hand raised to knock. This was a place of people who could 'help with anything', right? Even... basic lessons on how to use stuff around his house? Basil bit his lips before hesitantly hitting the wooden surface. He only had 100 brass to his name and, considering he still had to adjust himself to the new currency, he had no clue if that was enough or not.]
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