#Code henry

[chloesimaginationthings]

William is the most divorced man in the FNAF universe

[calliiopes]

Dear Thisbe, I wish there weren't a wall. Love, Pyramus

[remake of this set]

[nedconte]

dundy + onion headlines

[aloeclown]

fucked up pathetic creature & more animals from the KCD 2 town maps

[phantom-dancing]

My Henry Jekyll art to entertain the masses . Do you guys like gim

[airyanagrande]

he is going through the unimaginable

[paradisesdoll]

“Little bird, bluebird. Fly away for both of us. For you have wings, and I’ve no means to fly. Little bird, bluebird. Find some strength inside my hand. Anything to let you sing goodbye” - Bluebird, Lana del Rey

[fairylando]

they look like the two romantic leads meeting at a party, specifically at the *looks at scribbles on her hand*... smooth operator lounge !

[scielson]

if you find hans capon in the morning hours at his poacher camp and talk to him, exhaust all his dialogue, but then still stalk him and his little camping routine, he’ll eventually say "good morning, henry" and it’s literally so cute. like hey, they don’t really talk anymore, but bro’s still polite and wishing henry a good morning.

[midnight-in-town]

The Holy Trinity : project "Apple", "Eden" academy and "Garden"

In Genesis, the apple from the Garden of Eden is most commonly known as the fruit of knowledge and, to this day, we know Project Apple created experiments such as Anya (mind reader) and Bond (future seer). I'd say reading minds and seeing the future count as being "very knowledgeable".

Meanwhile Eden Academy is an elite school, represented by an apple on the students' uniform, in which parents of specific elite children (Imperial Scholars) have secret meetings (which Donovan has access to, thanks to Demetrius).

Also, as we know, Donovan studied there (and at some point gained telepathic powers too) and Henderson's flashback also taught us that there was a lot of war propaganda in the school back then :

Lastly, there is Garden, a secret organization, more of a legend even to a spy like Twilight, but who has super strong (no mental inhibitors ?) and probably indoctrinated soldiers, like Yor, working for them.

Eden Academy used to be pro-war and is today one of Ostania's most elite schools, super secret Project Apple wants world peace (probably meaning for Ostania to be in charge of that "peace")...

and Garden, a seemingly Ostanian organization, desires "to keep this world beautiful".

The link between all 3 can probably be summed up as "knowledge is power", which also sums up Twilight's entire mission as a spy for Westalis, trying to know what war Ostania (via Desmond who is confirmed to be able to read minds) is planning.

Lastly, the fact Anya's powers may be related to the use of classical language, a dead language most likely only taught in elite schools like Eden nowadays, is one more argument linking Eden academy (knowledge) and Project Apple (intellectual power).

As for Garden, they seem to specialize in physical prowess but if Yor's strength was indeed enhanced, surely it required a good amount of specific knowledge to unlock her mental inhibitors (and then to indoctrinate her).

(I'd also like to point out that Garden describing the world as a "beautiful place to protect" makes even more sense considering they probably took in several war orphans like Yor and made them "useful".)

TL;DR we don't know entirely how yet, but surely there is a link between Garden, Eden Academy and Project Apple and, according to Project Apple who wants "world peace", surely that can only mean war.

[stariez-artz]

felt like dropping some PaperRings art

[reifblue]

Respite on the Spitalfields

[kingtylerproductions]

Angel: I hear he has two dicks

Cherri:

[ratmare]

Halfway to the apothecary, Hans' thigh begins to chafe around the sweatsoaked rags. At least, he hopes it's sweat. God help him if that bite is festering. There's no kindly herbwoman to supply him a bed or idiot bodyguards to force her tonics down his throat. Hans grimaces at the idea of Henry being there for that whole shit show.

Hans, how could you not check that the wolf was truly dead. and Hans! You should've washed that wound immediately Christ, he never would have heard the end of it. All that fussing and griping would have put him in the grave. No, no, he is perfectly equipped to deal with this on his own

He flips his hood over his damp hair as Troskowitz wobbles into view, and prays he can get through this without being recognized. From the sound of it most of the yokels have already found their way to the tavern. He keeps his eyes down as he shambles on and half collapses onto the counter when he finally makes it inside that German's shop (damn him for having it on the second floor).

"Guten Abend, mein Herr." "Bandages and some salve for my wounds. The best you have." The German's blank expression makes him think better of it and he tries to smooth things over with a gritted smile. "...please." "I was on the wrong side of some wolves this morning, and I would quite like to pay for your assistance instead of the sawbones." "Ja...you are in luck." The apothecary shuffles through his inventory, and Hans tries to follow his hands instead of the worrying throbbing heat traveling up towards his hip."My best supplier visited today. I think you will be quite satisfied with his decoction." "How much?" "One hundred groschem." "A hundred?! Are you yanking my pizzle?" He gapes.

"Ich meine es erst. You said you wanted my best and you will find no better in the region." " He shakes his head. "I, myself, can't figure out how he does it. " "At that price, it better be distilled from gold and Saint Luke's piss." The wound on his leg and the lightness of his purse has his tongue hot, and he thrusts out his chin before he can think better of it. "I'll give you 40." "Have a fine rest of your evening, goodsir." "Alright, alright, fifty five, and I'll throw in these absolutely lovely hare pelts. What do you say?" Hans whips out his least matted pelts from the depths of his pack, and smiles over them for the German. "You can have that Barto-fella fix up something nice for the Missus, hm?"

"Seventy five and then please leave."

"You've got a deal, goodman!" He offers up his hand to shake but is more than fine when the phial and some crumpled bandages are pushed into his palm instead. He measures out his payment and slips back through the door. The lock clunks behind him, but he's got what he came for. Seeking a little privacy to redress his wounds he limps over to the little shack crumpled in the corner of the garden. The phial's lip has been dipped in red wax, and a few letters have been scratched near the neck of the bottle. He rolls his eyes, some yokel's attempt at a maker's mark. He cracks through the wax shell with his teeth and knows deep down he's been fleeced when the scent hits him.

It's just marigold decoction. Peasant brew. Even he could probably brew this. "Bastard." He hisses as he unwinds the bandages. Next time he drops off a kill for that butcher he's going to dump the entrails in that Kraut fucker's garden. He contemplates tossing it, but something's better than nothing. Really what choice does he have? "Sweet mother Mary, I wish I was drunk for this." He winces as he tips the mixture over the gash. Good lord, it stings. He has to bite into the meat of his arm to keep the warbling scream from alerting the guards, but slowly as the syrup sinks into the divots in his flesh, the pain mellowing into something warm. The hot throbs that he took to be the footsteps of an approaching fever soften, and the relief is priceless. "Maybe you're gold and holy piss after all." He murmurs as he thumbs over the wound marveling at how his touch can linger without pain. Whoever made this is wasting their talents in this backwater. He runs his tongue over his teeth at the thought of having someone so skilled over in Rattay. Well, if he's that German's "best supplier" he's no doubt got enough standing to be invited to the wedding, so he can just pluck him from the rabble once all this is straightened out. That'd be a fine souvenir for all the trouble he's been through. He brings up the bottle to the candlelight and squints at the maker's mark once again A lopsided S sits atop the heavy horizontal stroke of an H, and Hans screams into his fist. God, must you follow me everywhere. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and feels the flash of outrage bubble into laughter, because of course even after everything Henry would be there to lick his wounds for him.

Finis

[disgustinglyonline]

i love you, HONEY

[airyanagrande]

this trend is so old oh my goodness