Just A Spoonful of Poison_End Times_Doomscrolling_Delicious Temptations
Catalog Guide:
Just A Spoonful of Poison
The year is 1496、 The place is Rome, Italy. The snow-capped mountains in the distance are beautiful. The air is crisp with the promise of snowfall. Lucretia Borgia is sitting at a large table in the kitchen of the Vatican thinking about how to get rid of the rats.Her father, Pope Alexander VI, wants her to take a job as a cook at a nearby Inn. Lucretia, with her blonde hair and kind heart, is a cinch for getting the kitchen job.Meanwhile, the snow is falling softly at the Mountainside Inn near Rome. The kitchen is full of black smoke."What kind of cook are you? I put an ad for a cook and all I...
End Times
Let’s see.Kid in a ridiculous shirt is looking. The man with a man bun is looking. Woman in red is looking. Even her baby is looking at me. Seriously, I got chills. That is hell of an ugly baby. I remember thinking, is this a nightmare? Am I naked?I looked at my clothes, nope, fully clothed. Then why on earth all of the city is staring at mwww.onedoor.cce? I was just walking for a job interview in the 5th avenue, completely lost in my headspace and trying to suppress my social anxiety when I bumped the guy in front of me. I screamed…. Ok made a weird mice noise for he was staring right through my eyes. Look...
Doomscrolling
I.Eyes crusty, Cyrus Ghasemi rolls over in bed and stretches his body like a Persian cat, copious black body hair standing on end with the static of the shifting sheets. Muscle memory sends a paw swiping at the bedside table. By no intention of Cyrus' own, he grasps his smart phone and enters the connect-the-dots unlock pattern, which resembles a cross or a pentagram, depending on how he looks at it. He rarely does--look at it, that is. By now, tapping into the world wide web is as natural to him as wiggling his toes.No messages.A heavy feeling in Cyrus' gut tells him he has to piss pretty bad...
Delicious Temptations
Delicious Temptations.That’s the sign that hangs over the door. Our little chocolate shop used to be called Chocolate Chuckles, but the owner finally realized the quickest way to amp up sales was to bring innuendo to the party. Just imagine it for a moment.You’re sitting in the cafe, having lunch, staring down a gorgeous brunette at the next table. She doesn’t break eye contact as she takes a sip from her straw, sliding her fingers along the collar of her rather plunging neckline. The come hither is palpable. You open the box of chocolates you purchased earlier, and extend it towards her.“Wou...
