Bluejay
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azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Bluejay
@azure-clockwork.bsky.social
45 followers 33 following 670 posts
she/her | my theme is random fucking bullshit | they say I’m an adult, apparently

I am being dead serious when I say I made an account because I saw some hannemanuela yuri
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azure-clockwork.bsky.social
RHEA’S MOM HAS GOT IT GOIN’ ON
SHE’S ALL I WANT AND I‘VE WAITED SO LONG
A screenshot of the Nintendo Direct trailer for FEFW showing Sothis on her throne
September 12, 2025 at 6:05 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
We climbed a mountain together. I am so happy to be alive. I am so happy to love people and to be loved in return. Yesterday I was busy Being On The Trip. Tomorrow I will go back to work. But tonight I’m just happy.
A photo of Black Elk Peak (elevation 7242 ft) in the Black Hills in South Dakota. The photo is taken facing roughly west. You can probably see into Wyoming
September 9, 2025 at 1:31 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Alternate answer:
That guy standing in the corner meme. He’s saying “They don’t know that i [sic] want to fuck that ~~old man~~ Hot pope”. The dancing couples are saying “YES WE FUCKING DO” and “YOU NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT IT”
August 28, 2025 at 11:09 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Without downloading anything new where are you mentally?
A pencil sketch of a woman lying flat on her stomach, arm outstretched, covered in scraps of paper. The papers say things like “late” and “past due”. Text around her says “until it’s all too much”
August 28, 2025 at 10:51 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
I’m impatient and don’t wanna wait for tmr, so I’ll give you a second WIP as well this week. Shout out to SIGNALIS and the sad space lesbians
An elevator shaft from a video game (specifically, it’s from SIGNALIS, on the first floor of the Sierpinski Mining Facility on Leng, taken with a 1st person camera mod). The text on the doors reads ‘电梯B’ or ‘elevator B’, though it’s partially out of frame. The doors to the shaft are partially open, revealing a sheer drop. The elevator is decidedly out of order. An elevator shaft from a video game (specifically, it’s from SIGNALIS, on the second floor of the Sierpinski Mining Facility on Leng, taken with a 1st person camera mod). The text on the doors reads ‘电梯B’ or ‘elevator B’, though it’s partially hidden by the doorframe. The doors to the shaft are partially open, revealing a sheer drop. The elevator is decidedly out of order. An elevator shaft from a video game (specifically, it’s from SIGNALIS, on the third floor of the Sierpinski Mining Facility on Leng, taken with a 1st person camera mod). The doors to the shaft are mostly open, revealing a sheer drop. The elevator is decidedly out of order. An elevator shaft from a video game (specifically, it’s from SIGNALIS, on the fourth floor of the Sierpinski Mining Facility on Leng, taken with a 1st person camera mod). The doors to the shaft are open, revealing a sheer drop, though someone has put up orange and black caution tape. The elevator is decidedly out of order.
July 15, 2025 at 9:10 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Ok ok, you can also have actual text for #WIPwednesday. It’s more doomed yuri tho, and a warning for blood
All in italics: Faster than you can comprehend, Mer’s arms turn themselves inside out, revealing naked, sinewy muscle clinging to malformed, sharpened bones. Her hands twist and pull apart, every finger separating to become the start of a new limb, her brachioradialis splitting itself with a wet sound and wrapping around the pieces of her splintered ulna. Her phillangies soften and reform, bone wriggling its way through flesh to replace each fingertip with with a wicked, hooked blade. Without wrists to bind, her manacles fall away. Mer smiles. Before you can move, before anyone can react, she throws herself to her feet and whirls to sink her new claws deep into Din’s stomach. Blood sprays everywhere, covering Mer’s arms, the ivory bones now red, splashing across her face, staining the cobblestones red. Even from a distance, you smell the ferric tang. Din staggers, hand moving to clutch at the hole in her side. Her eyes are wide, full of pain and shock as she stares down at the wreckage. The world hangs still for a moment, two, as the Sephirah of Justice stands and watches herself bleed out. And then Din snaps back to herself, face black with rage.
June 25, 2025 at 8:28 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Happy #WIPwednesday! To celebrate, this week I’m giving y’all actual background to understand what I’m cooking! Happy reading!
The World: Fifty-nine years ago, the God-King Keter committed the Heresy: he lured three of his fellow sephirot into a trap, killed them, and poisoned the world tree Malkuth. And then he disappeared. Malkuth now lies dying, with just months to live, calling down holy angels on its people as divine retribution. The poison has seeped into the lands—crops fail, plagues run rampant, rivers go dry and then flood whole cities in the space of an afternoon. The Holy City of Ophir has shuttered its doors in a last bid to protect its faithful, clerics and deacons working tirelessly to delay the inevitable. The Canaan Laboratories have remained underground, their secret projects accelerated, their doomsday clocks ticking down to midnight. In the forests of the northwest, the Nephilim Cults have fractured into hopeless infighting, still endlessly waiting on some sign of their long awaited salvation. In the east lies the city-state of Aziah, its Queen liquidating her treasury to make her citizens comfortable while the world burns down around them. It didn’t have to end like this: ten years ago, there were four adventurers who found the Truth. And ten years ago, they vanished, never to be heard from again. The Living: Junia I, Queen of Aziah and surrounding territories: Aziah's terminally overworked head of state, and Keter's only child. Known for her steel spine and her unhealthy relationship to stimulants. High Priestess Binah, Sephirah of Knowledge: The head of the Church of Malkuth. It's rare that she leaves the Holy City these days, but she makes an exception to meddle in Aziah's affairs of state. Gebura the Arbiter, Sephirah of Justice: Din's replacement, now without Din's instability. The Church's last word in every argument, the strongest force on the continent, the holy sword in Binah's hands. Judah of Aziah: Engineer at Canaan Labs. He knows a secret even Junia has forgotten… The Dead: Keter XVI, God-King of Aziah and surrounding territories, Sephirah of the Crown, Father of Heresy: Man, myth, and demon. Aziah's faithful sovereign for two centuries, and its mad Heretic thereafter. The guiding light of the nephilim cults, and the boogeyman under Aziah's beds. Neither his body nor his Chord have ever been found. Tiana Alderman, Queen Consort: A woman from Capernaum, once. Little more than ash and dust these days. Din the Arbiter, previous Sephirah of Justice: Messy, disloyal, and unwell—not the sort of person you'd want to hold the raw power of the Chord of Justice. Binah stripped her for parts to build Gebura. Mer: An angel blood-enhanced Church soldier now turned traitor to both Church and Crown, and ex-lover of the woman who became Din. The Forgotten: Kali: An ex-nephilim cultist now on the run from her past, searching for a new cause to believe in. Or she was, before. Aella: An engineer and gunslinger, looking for information about her grandfather's mysterious work. Or she was, before. Vikranth: A lieutenant in Aziah's military police force, investigating his missing memories. Or he was, before. Belle: A Keter-era war machine turned mysteriously sentient, discovering its purpose in life. Or it was, before.
June 25, 2025 at 6:13 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Happy WIP Wednesday! Perhaps. Perhaps I will finish this thing. Until then, have the piece of it that my friends are currently laughing at me for because uh. Well. So.
This is the wrong answer. Binah flicks her wrist and the chains slide off her arms to coil around you. They clink softly as they snake around your biceps, your forearms, your legs. You can’t move, can’t break them; you’ve tried before to no avail. You’re pinned in place, trapped. You feel Binah’s presence press into place behind your eyes, warm and heavy. It’s gentle, caressing you like you might soothe a spooked horse, as it slips farther in and curls around your spinal cord, and cuddles up to your brain stem. *It would be so easy to submit*, you think, so easy to let that tender, liquid warmth flow into your brain itself, to give yourself over fully. *So very easy…* “Yes,” Binah says, low and sweet. “You don’t have to make this difficult.” You fight the urge to go limp and pliant, to sigh and let yourself fall into her embrace, and instead square your shoulders and push back on the delicate pressure starting to fill your head. You can’t let her in deeper. Don’t think, keep your thoughts blank, give her nothing. You repeat it like a mantra.
June 18, 2025 at 10:42 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Me vs. the last song I listened to
A picrew of a smiling girl on a green background. She has shaggy blue hair, glasses, piercings and a dark grey shirt. Shes holding a lesbian flag heart with gold trim. She has many speech bubbles “Fake Your Death” by MCR
June 15, 2025 at 12:10 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Too bad I didn’t get to bust out the horrible terrible 64(?) word sentence that’s later in this thing lmfao
You hadn’t packed your jacket—it was already spring in Aziah, and Keter hadn’t thought to check your bag until you both stepped off the train in Narraganset, 12 hours into the journey—so you’re wearing his coat, with the too-long sleeves falling over your hands no matter how much you roll them, while Keter shivers beside you in just his dress shirt.
June 13, 2025 at 6:27 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Maybe I have made more words happen. Infinite angst AU, here we go lmao
A screenshot of the following, in italics: You’re ten, nearly eleven, when somebody decides you need an education on your changing body. “Your parents should have handled this,” they tell you, gently, like you might shatter from the reminder. “My mother has been dead for years,” you snap. “And Keter certainly isn’t here.” Already it was ’Keter’ instead of ‘father’; you had learned that your tutors preferred to forget that you were the daughter of the mad Heretic.
June 5, 2025 at 2:11 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Happy WIP Wednesday; I got this far during my lunch break
A screenshot that reads “you’re tr” and nothing more
June 4, 2025 at 5:04 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
NOT A DRILL
The webtoon UI showing Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arwakawa
May 31, 2025 at 8:18 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
6g baybee!!
A photo of a white person’s ear, cropped in pretty tightly. It has a 6g plug through the lobe. The plug is black with a rainbow sheen to it. The skin around the plug is slightly reddened, because the piercing was just stretched. The ear also has a conch piercing, with a small flower stud, and a second lobe piercing, with a small standard stud. There are scars along the helix and forward helix matching an old industrial piercing. In the background, you can see blonde hair and the arm of a pair of green glasses.
May 25, 2025 at 3:53 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Happy WIP Wednesday (actually on a Wednesday!!)

I hope you all wanted more Vikranth!
It was a strange feeling to be on the other end of this kind of examination. Junia looked at him with the same intensity she had poured into trying to solve the issue of the cultists. “Are you planning on staying in field work long term?” There was a correct answer here, Vikranth was sure of it. Did she want him to prove his loyalty? Or was she trying to recruit him elsewhere? He went with equivocation. “I’m not sure, sir. I like to keep my options open.” Junia nodded. “And have you ever considered going into investigations? Marta— Colonel Anderson to you, I suppose— she’s always looking for people with your eye for detail.” “I’m not trained in investigation, or anything. I just try to stay aware of the people around me, and I tend to notice things.” “What have you noticed about me?” Junia asked. There was a new curiosity in her eyes, enough that Vikranth wondered if all her previous questions had been preamble to this. What was he supposed to tell her? He ran through his observations throughout the course of the meeting. Your nose is too big for your face. You remind me of a bird of prey. Your seat never lets you forget you cannot take Keter’s. No, he couldn’t say any of that to the Interim Commander. Vikranth picked the safe option. “You drink too much coffee.” “That’s all? Any member of the council could tell you that.” “No, sir. You also—let’s see, you’re a gifted mage, you think the Head Inquisitor is pompous, and I’m pretty sure you’re ambidextrous.” Junia’s eyebrows shot up. “Ambidextrous? You haven’t seen me use my left hand for anything.” “Ah, you did, actually, to unstick the chalkboard. But that was just confirmation; I guessed earlier. Some of your notes are smudged like my roommate’s are, but not all of them. I’m guessing you switch hands whenever one gets tired—it’s what I would do, if I could.” She looked down at her notepad, then back at Vikranth. “Impressive. Anything else?” “You don’t actually have many tells, sir. But—“ He hesitated. “I said that you could speak freely, Sergeant.” Well, if she wanted his observations— “The blank face is an act. It’s a good one, please don’t misunderstand; I doubt most people can pick up on it. But you tighten up your mouth and jaw to keep yourself from frowning, or you hide behind the mug. Once I knew what to look for, you weren’t so hard to read, sir.” She was still watching him, those sharp eyes considering something. Maybe a joke would help? “For what it’s worth, I think openly scowling at Netzach would have improved the meeting.” Junia softened at that, the corners of her mouth curling up into a small smile. It was a jarringly pleasant look on her face. “Between you and me, it might have.” She gave him a final appraisal and appeared to come to a decision. “I meant what I said about becoming an investigations agent. You are… insightful.”
May 21, 2025 at 10:34 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
I am once again giving into the urge to post incomprehensible bullshit for WIP Wednesday
A screenshot with text that reads as follows: “I don’t see how any of this is my problem,” drawled a voice to Vikranth’s right. The whole room turned to face the head of the table. Netzach had his feet up and was picking at his nails. “Why should the Church help you clean up your own mess?” he said. “Netzach, sir, we proposed—“ “Ah bup bup, that would be ‘Head Inquisitor Netzach’ to you.” Across the table, Junia’s mouth twisted down in the same tiny way it had before. Vikranth watched her set her jaw as if to keep herself from commenting. Dominick went slightly pale under his beard. “Apologies, Head Inquisitor, sir—” Screenshot of text reading as follows: “It used to be,” Netzach began, “that back in the day, that even the greenest officers knew to respect their betters.” He inspected his nails and, seemingly satisfied, switched hands. “It would be unthinkable to get to—what are you, a major? Get to major, then, without learning how to address a superior.” Junia took a sip of her coffee to hide her obvious grimace. It probably would have worked, had Vikranth been paying attention to Netzach instead of studying her, but as it was, he could see the way her lips pursed and nose wrinkled behind the edge of the cup. Netzach was still going. “It’s tragic how far training standards have fallen post-Heresy. If I didn’t know better, I would have said they’ve shortened the stints in officer training school—“ Text that reads as follows: “You have made your point,” Junia cut in. “Head Inquisitor Netzach, Sephirah of Eternity, third in command—“ there was a touch too much emphasis on ‘third’ to be accidental “—of High Priestess Binah, would you please allow Major Dominick to speak?” Netzach sneered at her. “My apologies, _Interim_ Commander.” He did not sound particularly apologetic, not with how he spat out the syllables of ‘interim’. Junia, to her credit, merely nodded at Dominick.
May 14, 2025 at 5:16 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Rookie numbers
320 discord notifs
May 7, 2025 at 1:05 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
EVERYONE GET HYPED!!!
A grinning man wearing a shirt that says “sickos” looks through a window and says “yes…ha ha ha… YES!”
May 4, 2025 at 5:22 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
It’s not WIP Wednesday anymore, but I was editing someone else’s poetry and it made me think of this draft I’ve had kicking around for a while

I suppose it would have been more topical if I had thought of it during Holy Week lmao
A screenshot of poetry. Its title is Gethsemane. It reads as follows: I gave You my body, broken for You. I poured out my blood and writ with it Your will. I gave You my hopes and my fears— I knelt and begged in the garden at Your feet. I gave and gave and gave— The only thing left to give You is my anger. So l come now not as a lamb, Nor a prince, Nor a savior, But as Isaiah's sword that slays even the very sea. The only thing left to give You is my spirit's scorching flame So take it and eat In remembrance of me.
April 24, 2025 at 1:46 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Can’t fit it all in 4 alt texts so here’s something with the last two paragraphs. Sorry, I hope this is possible to follow for y’all!
Well, shit. She had missed her eight thirty brief with Lieutenant Fawkes and the nine am review of agricultural storage facilities. And Judah was right: she smelled like she’d bathed in rice wine instead of drinking it. It’ll take fifteen minutes to get back to my quarters, at least ten to make myself presentable, another 8 to get to the council room— Junia offered Judah a few muttered words of thanks and herself a couple of choice curses and hurtled out towards the palace. Even without a lingering hangover, it had been the start of a long, long week.
April 3, 2025 at 10:55 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
WIP Wednesday? More like WIP wThursday, amiright?
Alt text misaligned for character count reasons You stumble down Judah’s hidden stairwell and into the lab, half blind with pain and still with no clue why. The door, the goddamn [replace] door— You can still see the afterimage of the blueprints against the back of your eyelids, bright, searingly bright. The voice still rings in your ears—your own, or maybe your father’s—insisting that you come here. You try to steady yourself against a table and try to breathe through the pain. It’s all you can do to stay upright. Judah looks up from his work—something spread out across the lab tables and soldering bench—as you stagger in, but he doesn’t put down the soldering iron. “Junia, what did you do,” he says, not really a question. He sounds more exasperated than concerned. “I don’t know—the one with the gun showed me something—” You watch your knuckles go white as you clutch at the edge of the table, trying to find stable ground. “Judah, please, I—why does it hurt?” Judah shoves a stool rolling in your direction before crossing the lab to dig through a drawer. “Take a seat,” he tells you. “You’ll be fine in a second.” He pulls something out—a round, flat thing, small enough to fit in your hand. “Here,” he says, and tosses it to you. “Press the button and put this on the back of your neck.” “What—“ you try to ask, but the minute you touch the puck, it’s suddenly too familiar. Your vision goes black around the edges, and another wave of horrible deja vu rolls over you. The door—the seal—your father—lacuna— You wind up on your knees before you realize your legs had given out. Your head screams with pain, enough that the table leg in front of you spins with it. “I told you to sit down,” Judah says, too calm. “Button, back of your neck.” You can feel tears welling at the corners of your eyes, can feel your stomach flip with every wave of agony. The last bits of your stubborn pride scream that you mustn’t cry or vomit, not here, not in front of Judah, but they’re buried in the shifting morass of your thoughts. The door, the door—Hokma—your father’s last words—the fucking door— “I—“ you manage, and nothing more. Judah’s voice cuts through the maelstrom of your thoughts. “Junia, just do it.” When did he move to sit beside you? Puck, button, back of your neck. Your hands shake so badly he has to guide the puck to rest against your spine. You think you are crying now, the pressure in your skull just too much to bear—and then there’s a flash of light and it all goes still. The memories flood back into you, all at once: the sealed door in the temple and your attempts to open it, Keter at the market, the new Chord of Hokma in the new Canaan Labs, everything. You remember Aella showing you the blueprints yesterday, and you telling the party they had leave to investigate. You remember the preparations for seven memory wipes and the bright flash of recollection of six other retrievals. The lacuna flashes green as you pull it from your neck, and then goes dark. “Well, fuck,” you say. ——— You write out the list, same as ever, on a sheet of scrap stolen from Judah’s bench. The door, and its seals, and my attempts to break them. The beginning sections are easy, rote recitation after seven times, and seemingly only hours old after being bottled up in the lacuna. Keter, his final orders, the color of his eyes, and the softest memory I have of him. The truth of Canaan labs, and the new holder of the Chord of Hokma. You continue on through every memory you wish to keep safe from Binah, until you’ve recreated your seventh list. Then the new entries: The eight ball, and how it works. The knowledge that Keter is absent from the Tehom. The knowledge that Keter was not coerced. And at last you add the final item, the same every time. The existence of lacunae, my repeated use of them, and the creation and contents of this list. Satisfied, you set about memorizing it. When you’re confident you could recite the whole thing forward and back, Judah passes you a fresh lacuna. “How are you going to justify this one? I don’t really want you back down here again in another few hours,” he says. “Same way I as planned with seven: I was drinking last night. My memory of the past twelve hours is bound to be patchy.” You wish you didn’t have to leave so many of details of your drunken indiscretions intact, but you do need to give your future self a reason not to questions the holes you’re about to leave. “And what should I tell you when you ask what you’re doing here?” You wave him off. “Just make something up about how I passed out on your lab bench. I will likely buy that.” He shrugs and turns to resume his project. You look down at your clothes, and realize that you’re still in the stained cloak you wore to disguise yourself. “Oh, and Judah? Please remind me I have strategic council meeting at ten; I really mustn’t blow that off, and I need to leave enough time to change.” He huffs a laugh. “I see you’re the same as ever, Junia.” At that, you snap your fingers and watch the list burst into flames, then crumple into a pile of ash. The lacuna pressed against the base of your neck, you click the button, close your eyes, and begin to recite. Junia had been able to recall the rest of the aftermath even before retrieving her memories. She had awoken to find herself still in the lab, body propped mostly upright on a stool, and face smushed up against something cold and sharp and smelling of grease. Peeling her cheek up and off of it revealed she had been leaning on half of some large device, the presumed other half of which was in pieces strewn across the work surface. Judah sat in the corner, hunched over a soldering bench, holding cables that looked to match the ones spilling out of her makeshift pillow. “Judah,” she had said. “Why am I in your laboratory?” Judah didn’t bother to turn around. “The Canaan Labs’ secret hangover cure.” Junia wracked her brain for any further clues. Her last memories had seemed to involve a glass of rice wine and someone chanting “chug! Chug! Chug! Chug,” and it was unclear how long ago that had been. “How did I get here?” she asked. “I don’t recall anything after leaving the bar.” Judah shrugged. “That sounds right. You were very drunk.” His soldering iron hissed as he wiped it clean. Exceptionally embarrassing for him to have witnessed. The shame still stung a little, even after six months, though she supposed that now she knew that she hadn’t really been drunk. Still, something hadn’t quite added up, even then. “I feel fine, nothing like I expect after waking up from that level of intoxication.” “Sounds effective, then. I’ll pass along your good review to Dr. Havilliard the next time I see her.” He’d gestured blindly in the direction of the staircase. “It’s nine twenty-two already, and I think you’ll want new clothes before the ten o’clock strategic council meeting.”
April 3, 2025 at 10:54 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
For the record, I got here because I was trying to Google the big fight between Binah and Gebura, and google said “oh don’t you mean ‘Binah and Gebura kissing’? Yeah you did, here’s AO3” which. Hell of a callout from Google there
Google search with “binah gebura” typed in. Google is suggesting results like “binah x gebura” and “gebura and binah kissing”
April 3, 2025 at 2:12 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
I could find and replace my way thru this and make smut. And it would roughly match my other smut. I’m not sorry and it will happen again
You can feel tears welling at the corners of your eyes, can feel your stomach flip with every wave of agony. The last bits of your stubborn pride scream that you mustn’t cry or vomit, not here, not in front of Judah, but they’re buried in the shifting morass of your thoughts. *The door, the door—Hokma—your father’s last words—the *fucking* door—* “I—“ you manage, and nothing more. Judah’s voice cuts through the maelstrom of your thoughts. “Junia, just do it.” When did he move to sit beside you? *Puck, button, back of your neck.* Your hands shake so badly he has to guide the puck to rest against your spine. You think you are crying now, the pressure in your skull just too much to bear—and then there’s a flash of light and it all goes still.
March 30, 2025 at 9:49 PM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
And this is the sonnet, which I wrote and turned in for a college course. My classmates immediately dubbed it “the sword lesbian poem” and my roommate shot me a Look at the mention of bergamot tea…
March 22, 2025 at 12:06 AM
azure-clockwork.bsky.social
Coworkers want me to make a March Madness bracket, so I have made choices exclusively based on a mix of how much I know about the school and how cute I think their mascot is.

Anyways, say hi to my predicted 2025 champs: Jonathan XIV and his baby brother, Jonathan XV!
Jonathan XV and Jonathan XIV playing in the Werth Family UConn Basketball Champions Center. (Sydney Herdle/UConn Photo)
March 17, 2025 at 2:39 PM