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Magic is real. Hogwarts Exists.


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That would be their entire alliance.

 

When W the Mighty has stood in front of the gate of heaven he begins to denounce it. He cries, 'heaven is for those too scared of nothingness, I will go no further then my mortal flesh will carry. This mirror is the sick bed of heaven Parti, the eternity of snekky lies.' W will have nothing to do with the mirror, he is only concerned with the flesh and blood of the now. This destroys Parti. W leaves him to contemplate his stupid mirror, and the design of the cosmos versus the terminal beauty of being a wizard.

Slaughter the shits of the world. They poison the air you breathe.

 

~ William S. Burroughs

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When W the Mighty has stood in front of the gate of heaven he begins to denounce it. He cries, 'heaven is for those too scared of nothingness, I will go no further then my mortal flesh will carry. This mirror is the sick bed of heaven Parti, the eternity of snekky lies.' W will have nothing to do with the mirror, he is only concerned with the flesh and blood of the now. This destroys Parti. W leaves him to contemplate his stupid mirror, and the design of the cosmos versus the terminal beauty of being a wizard.

 

For 43 days straight, Parti sits in front of the gate of Heaven. Waiting for either God to appear or for W to come back and apologize. But to Parti's surprise, neither show up. Only Neary-Dead Cynic stumbles upon the vigil. Parti is considerably weakened, and actually taken surprised by Cynic's presence. Cynic starts in "don't you want some soup or cocoa, Parti? Come away from the light of heaven's easy life. We need such a valiant, squarehead warrior as yourself, here, to live and to hack the serpents of evil in two. Hell, into two's, into three's and four's! Your life will be the very envy of heaven and its slobbery inhabitants."

 

"No Parti, you were meant to stride with us, the living. To course with us and our blood. You were meant to end when your share of that blood turns brown on the Rocks of Glory. You and I shall drink tonight Parti. We shall drink to life's confines, to life's pearly end which is the nothingness of death. Not the perpetual pansiness of Heaven!"

Slaughter the shits of the world. They poison the air you breathe.

 

~ William S. Burroughs

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For 43 days straight, Parti sits in front of the gate of Heaven. Waiting for either God to appear or for W to come back and apologize. But to Parti's surprise, neither show up. Only Neary-Dead Cynic stumbles upon the vigil. Parti is considerably weakened, and actually taken surprised by Cynic's presence. Cynic starts in "don't you want some soup or cocoa, Parti? Come away from the light of heaven's easy life. We need such a valiant, squarehead warrior as yourself, here, to live and to hack the serpents of evil in two. Hell, into two's, into three's and four's! Your life will be the very envy of heaven and its slobbery inhabitants."

 

"No Parti, you were meant to stride with us, the living. To course with us and our blood. You were meant to end when your share of that blood turns brown on the Rocks of Glory. You and I shall drink tonight Parti. We shall drink to life's confines, to life's pearly end which is the nothingness of death. Not the perpetual pansiness of Heaven!"

 

Cynic is shaking with passion. He is beckoning Parti to enter into the sphere of manhood. Parti is all but wrapped in a buffalo skin, dancing and shaking a bow and arrow, around a ceremonial fire. His rite of passage is here, now. He's like a young Native American, preparing to answer the question of life. Cynic's all a quiver, awaiting Parti's answer, and Parti answers "no".

 

"Snekky lies? Hack the serpents of evil? Cynic... I am the sneks. I wish you luck in your nothingness: there can be only one lord in the kingdom of pixels."

 

Cynic, at first taken aback, then nods, and at the point of Parti's wand shows a quiet resolve. As his face is lit by the flamboyant dazzle of Parti's signature anti-triumvius charm, he speaks his last words: "I wish you luck in not hating your parents for mixing up such an unthinkable person".

Slaughter the shits of the world. They poison the air you breathe.

 

~ William S. Burroughs

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  • 3 weeks later...

I'm in love  :wub:

 

 

Welp.  Manthrax, take me.  I'm all yours.

 

Man was born to love

Though often he has sought

Like Icarus, to fly too high

And far too lonely than he ought

To kiss the sum of east and west

And hold the world at his behest

To hold the terrible power

To whom only gods are blessed -

 

But me? I am just a man(thrax)

Slaughter the shits of the world. They poison the air you breathe.

 

~ William S. Burroughs

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