#ANSWERS FROM THE GARBAGE PAIL

[11cupids-tarot11]

What can help your dreams ★Manifest☆ ?

1 -> 3

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Tarot Deck used: Garbage Pail Kids

Oracle Deck used : The Roast Iconic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 1- The Devil, Six of Coins in Reverse, The Hanged Man

Oracle cards- "Billionaire: Are you hoarding wealth to fuel your King or Queen Baby dreams? Do not pass Go, do not collect a million dollars, don't even go to jail or pay taxes- think about doing some good and using your hoard to end WORLD HUNGER ALREADY!"

"Black Square: Apparently, you are only down for doing the bare minimum during an incredibly significant time to stand up and advocate for human rights. Drawing this card reminds you that your actions need to not be just performative, they must be based in real knowledge and include follow-through, both online and IRL (in real life). You don't have to be on the front lines, but at this point in history, you can't be silent either."

Hi my pile 1's 😭 I feel like it's been forever I hate being away from my blog for too long cause I start to miss y'all literally lol.

So anyways for your reading today I feel like Spirit is wanting to draw attention to maybe some addictions, self sabotage is what I heard while shuffling the cards. I feel this heavy energy of someone purposely messing up their own blessings in a way I feel like maybe someone's stuck in this very heavy energy but also not really doing anything about it? Like maybe you know something's not good for you, maybe it's a connection or even a job that's tiring you out, it's something along those lines but you just can't stop it, you know? I heard someone needs to do an energy cleanse! I heard take some time off. Maybe someone's drowning themselves in something like studying too much, there's something about over doing something. Someone could have very curly hair here.

So I'm hearing here someone should take the time off and do something fun, relax a little. I think there's a message here also of feeling like you haven't done enough of something and you're obsessing about it mentally a lot and spirit is saying just take a little break from it and endulg in something else, something that makes you happy and makes you feel like you, you know? Even if it's just taking a walk while listening to your favorite music or maybe reading your favorite book and watching your favorite movie, you know? So with the six of coins here I'm also getting a message of like you've worked really hard already and you've done a great job honestly it's okay to rest and not be perfect already already, Rome wasn't built in a day I'm hearing!

The hanged man is just confirmation you've definitely been making yourself sick and stuck by obsessing over this thing. I also feel like maybe you're stuck because spirit is wanting you to see things from a different perspective, like in my garbage pail kid tarot card Wacky Jacky is hanging and all stuck in a tree but while she's stuck she realizes she sees the world in a whole different perspective and it's then new ideas come to her. Approach your goal from a new angle!

I feel like someone here is also someone very important with a very hard position and that might be why you work so hard, you have a lot of pressure on you maybe. Take what resonates!

Hope you enjoyed this reading! Let me know, I love you and take care ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 2- Queen of Wands Reversed, Seven of Wands Reversed and Three of Cups.

Oracle cards- "Troll: Are you a Necessary Evil? Do you feel you must play Devil's Advocate? Or are you someone who hates themselves so much they feel they have to try to get others to feel the same way? If you answered "yes" to one or more of these questions, please seek help or therapy, or get a hobby."

"Bitch: Are you being a Bitch, or just making sure they can't take advantage of you? Stand up for yourself, but make sure you don't steamroll anyone in the process. Do no harm, but take no shit."

Hi pile 2's, hope you're doing amazing 🤩

So right off the bat I'm picking up shy energy lol, someone who's maybe more reserved or introverted. I don't want to say basically Spirit thinks you should be loud or more outgoing but I definitely think you'll go through a time period of weird energy and out of the ordinary situations happening that are forcing you out of your comfort zone. You might not get any more extroverted but I definitely do see branching out might help, sitting with your close friends and just letting yourself let loose or just enjoy the company. You might be someone who people look at and not get the big picture right away, like they have lots of accusations about you but you're kind of closed off so these accusations aren't 100% true because there's more to you than people know, you're just not the type to go and give yourself away that easily. You might be someone who prefers to keep a very close knit group of friends, I heard something about trust issues.

You could be petite, someone who doesn't look like they're very strong and that's what surprises everyone when you finally do show them you are indeed strong. You can be loud and extroverted too I think it's a choice to really be in this shell of yours, maybe it's what's comfortable and that's exactly the problem, when we're too comfortable we don't see the point in changing. Like why fix it if it isn't broken? But you hold great significance, you're just a significant person to the universe and I'm not even sure if you're aware but you are lol.

It's crazy because I'm picking up mixed messages lol, with the Queen of Wands in reverse it makes me feel like someone here is very down and unsure about themselves, needs to take some me time and get away from socializing but with the Three of Cups someone here needs to "stop being alone so much" is how I channeled it, advising you to go out more with the people you love and celebrate, have a good time and just have fun so take what resonates as you know yourself best and what applies to your situation.

With the seven of Wands I'm getting a message of someone who's stressed, you maybe have felt very tired, over worked maybe, even dealing with certain responsibilities or relationship makes us feel tired and all worn out so take this how it resonates. You're on the brink of giving up, maybe you felt like it's not worth it or simply just can't find results you've been wanting to see, maybe this thing is literally killing you because Spirit is stressing you drop it enough to take the stress off you. I wouldn't advise anyone to just give up, but Spirit used such words as "drop it" like maybe the thing you're supposed to drop isn't serving you and that's why it's making you feel so bad. I'm just hearing Spirit even ask if you think all of this is worth it? This is something tough that's been bothering you, it could even be as simple as negative thoughts with all of the wands energy here, I think this is a group in their head a lot always trying to hold themselves accountable and very motivated to just do right. I heard a message that it's hard coming up for new creative endeavors because of all of the negativity in your thoughts holding you back, this energy is blocking your ideas. It's like you vs you almost, I think you have the power to help your dreams manifest all on their own just with your thoughts alone so keep a check for your energy, watch who you share your energy with because it's important and powerful. You're powerful I heard!

I hope you find this helpful! Take care angelz love you! ♡

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Pile 3- Seven of Cups, The Chariot and King of Wands.

Oracle Cards- "Black Square: Apparently, you are only down for doing the bare minimum during an incredibly significant time to stand up and advocate for human rights. Drawing this card reminds you that your actions need to not be just performative, they must be based in real knowledge and include follow-through, both online and IRL (in real life). You don't have to be on the front lines, but at this point in history, you can't be silent either."

"Red Flag: No matter how often you try to bleach the red flags white, they only turn back to red. You have been warned- now PULL ANOTHER CARD!"

"Cult Leader: You are not a guru, a Timelord, or a demigod. You are an egomaniac who needs minions so you can feel like an authority to compensate for your own feelings of inferiority. Grow up!"

Hi pile 3! Hope you're having a fantastic day where you are!

So right away I'm picking up a message of not seeing the bigger picture, this pile feels more like a "How to Manifest more quicker" lol. I'm hearing this very slow moving energy, someone refusing to move on to the next chapter though you might be aware it's time to even but I'm getting a sense of fear. Even if you are unaware of these changes there's still so much anxiety and fear surrounding you at these times because the universe is basically forcing you to move lol! Move or be moved I'm hearing.

So overall I feel like someone in this pile might have lots of distractions, someone might have adhd and a hard time concentrating on tasks. Spirits drawing your attention these times and reminding you to stay focus.

With the Chariot card I feel like there's some movement here that needs to happen, you need to take action. I think that's the best way to help your manifestations right now, maybe someone here even forget exactly what they were manifesting and Spirit is like "Uhh HELLO? DO YOU REMEBER THAT THING??" lol. I heard someone's just been away from the job a little too long, I even get from the Seven of Cups it might've been you were distracted with something else that just sparked your attention better, but all that glitters isn't gold!

So I think you're working on being in this King of Wands energy, someone who is very productive, knows what they want, speaks up about anything, rather it's an idea they have or just wanting authority. I feel like a few of you even might know exactly what this is, I feel like a few of you might not even have a specific dream you want to manifest just clicking on the reading for fun lol but there's still a secretive message here I think you'll understand as you apply it to your situation.

Spirit is asking you to maybe think about the roots you want to plant and start from there, stay true to your craft and perspective and be committed.

I hope you enjoyed this reading! I love you, see you soon ❤️ ★

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 9 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Words: 3500

Warnings: fluff, smut, angst, age gap

You poked at the well done chicken cutlet on your plate as you sat in front of the television with a tray. As much as you thought you were keeping your emotions in check, your mother picked up on your body language from across the room.

“Is something wrong?” She asked out of the blue.

“Me?” Your oblivious father asked with a mouthful of baked potato.

“No,” she shook her head and your eyebrows raised as she motioned toward you with her fork.

“Oh, I'm.. no I'm fine.” You stuttered on your words.

“You're not. What's the matter?”

“It's nothing, Mom.”

She squinted her eyes a bit and you knew she didn't believe you, but she backed off and began sawing away at her chicken. As much as you wanted to sit and enjoy some downtime with the two of them, you just couldn't help the feeling that weighted down your core.

I should be making Joel dinner right now.

You were pouting and you knew it. Reeling it in felt impossible. Despite more looks from your mother, she backed off on the questions for the time being and took it upon herself to clear your plate when you finished eating.

“Do you mind taking the trash cans to the curb?” She asked, prompting you to give a nod.

“No problem.” You wandered through the house and into the garage to retrieve them before clicking the button to open the bay door.

As you dragged the two black pails behind you, your eyes couldn't help but land on the pair of cars in Joel's driveway, one of them being the BMW that was parked beside his truck.

You glanced up at the darkening sky and the thought of her spending the night made you want to cry. Just when you were beginning to feel content, Joel’s wife is back in the picture.

You set the garbage cans down at the top of the driveway and then began walking back for the recycling bin. When you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket you pulled it out.

Joel.

Your heart fluttered and you hurried to answer, keeping your voice quiet despite being alone outside.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” his voice was low and you could barely make him out.

“Hi.” You took a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” Joel said. “I was looking forward to tonight.”

A shot of relief entered your body but the dread and disappointment still outweighed it. Still, it was something.

“Me too,” you confessed.

After a short pause, Joel continued. “I just wanted to assure you over the phone that I am not with Cecille. We aren't getting back together.”

“Okay.” You breathed again and a little more life entered your body. “I, um…” you didn't know what to say. There was a nagging question that you managed to squeak out. “Is she spending the night with you?”

Fuck. You hated asking. Even more, you didn't want to know the answer.

“With me?” He spoke a little louder. “No. I'm trying to get her to go to a hotel.”

“Okay.”

“I'm going to figure this out.”

“It's fine. We can maybe.. get together and talk about it sometime soon. Tomorrow?”

“I got the recycle,” your dad suddenly called from the garage.

Your eyes widened and you nodded, calling out. “Okay, thanks Dad.”

“Let's go to texts,” Joel suggested.

“Okay. Bye.” You hung up and smiled at your father. “I'll get it, Dad.” You took the bin from his hands despite his mild protest and walked it up to the curb.

“You sure you're okay, kiddo?” He called after you.

“Yeah I'm fine.” You rejoined him in the driveway and accepted a hug. “Just a weird, in between time I guess.”

“I get it. Being fresh out of college and back with your folks can be a.. bummer.” The last word made you both chuckle. “Or whatever you kids say.”

“Yeah I don't know. I’ll be alright. I have an interview coming up.”

“Great, close by?”

“Next town over.” You smiled. “I couldn't go very far.”

“Well, good luck. I'm sure you'll do great.” He patted you on the back now and trailed in you through the garage and back inside. “You've got your whole life ahead of you. Save some money living with your mother, and I and then don't go too far once you're a big time detective.”

You laughed and nodded. “Deal.” At the same time your phone went off again.

Can you meet me at the parking lot at Wolf’s Ledge State Park?

It was instant butterflies and an instant ‘Yes!’ on the text message back. You picked up your step once back inside and retrieved your keys and bag with your wallet in it.

“Are you going somewhere?” Your mother asked while your father retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.

“Yeah.” You gave a nod.

“Where to?”

“Hiking.”

“(Y/N), it's going to be dark soon.” Her eyes read the ticking clock.

“I'm fine,” you assured her, “Going with a small group and I have my pepper spray.”

You weren't fooling your mother, and you knew it.

“Do you have some secret romance going on that we don't know about?” She was half-kidding, but you nearly shuddered.

“I'm going hiking, Mom.” You gave a little grin and practically skipped toward the door.

“Let her be,” your father urged, prompting a look from your mother.

“Check in, please,” she said adamantly.

“I will.” You gave a nod and then hurried outside to get into your car.

Joel's truck was still parked in the driveway as you pulled out, passing his house in the process. You took a deep breath and cruised your way toward Wolf’s Ledge.

You closed your eyes and sat back in the driver’s seat for a moment, allowing yourself thirty seconds to breathe. As you were mentally ordering yourself to relax again, the opposite happened when Joel’s truck rolled to a halt beside you. A ball cap was pulled down low toward his eyes, topping his shaggy hair and he gave a glance in your direction.

He looks good. You loved how he looked in a baseball hat.

When he opened the door and rounded the truck, your stomach grew tighter and any words you had planned to try putting into coherent sentences had all but abandoned your brain. The feeling deepened when he approached the car. You rolled your window down. Joel placed both of his hands on the top of the door and leaned in through the open window. Without hesitation his lips found yours and everything felt alright.

"I'm sorry about tonight and… everything, honey.” His gravelly voice and term of endearment sent the same shivers down your spine as always. The feeling he gave you had not yet subsided. In fact, you felt like it escalated every time you were together.

"It's okay." You barely smiled. It was genuine but troubled. You couldn't help but feel a little elated when Joel kissed you, but the background noise was deafening.

"I, uh, had a million fuckin' things to say," Joel began, "But I can't think of any of 'em now." He glanced over his shoulder around the wooded, gravel lot. "Feel like taking a short drive?"

You were more than eager to go with Joel anywhere he wanted to take you. "Sure." You killed the engine to your car, grabbed your purse and then locked up the vehicle before following Joel to his truck in the next space over.

You hurried toward the passenger side and hoisted yourself up into the truck as he did the same on the opposite side. The truck's interior lingered with Joel’s scent, and it was intoxicating. Everything about him heightened the urges that you already thought about far too often.

Had it been anyone else, you would have asked where you were going. With Joel it didn't matter. He could have hightailed the truck to Mexico and wouldn't have questioned it as long as you were together.

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" he asked as if he could read your thoughts. Joel glanced over once when you didn't respond as he cruised the truck toward the exit of the parking lot.

You shrugged. "Wherever it is, is fine." You turned to him, intrigued now that he had brought it up, "Where are we going?"

"Fishing spot I go to around the corner," Joel informed you without hesitation, "Been going since I was a kid." He turned to you again, "It's quiet."

You nodded in agreement and moved your arm abruptly when Joel hit the button on his side to open your window.

"Sorry," he said simply, though you immediately let your arm dangle partway out, tapping your fingers against the side of the truck as he drove.

"It's fine." You swallowed, thinking for the first time that the air felt thick between you. Your conversations were typically easy and loose. The ride to the fishing spot felt tense and neither of you spoke much. Joel never turned the radio on. You didn't know if it was on purpose or if his thoughts were too loud for him to even think about putting on some music as a distraction.

He stared out the windshield and you stared out the open passenger window. Each of you took turns, like a song in rounds, taking heavy breaths or sighs. You suspected Joel wasn't the best at indulging in his feelings, and neither was you. Both of you would have been comfortable carrying on as you had been - carefree with big smiles for one another and blissfully content in each other's arms. Still, that wouldn't have been possible forever with all of the underlying issues and uncertainties swirling silently around you.

When the truck finally cruised past a sign showing a second entrance to the park, Joel pointed up the way.

"You’ve been coming here since you were little?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” he gave a single nod and took the dirt road in.

You let out a deep breath you were unable to hold in and then swallowed hard. When Joel's truck finally rolled to a halt in another dirt lot overlooking a small lake with scattered cottages across the way you weren't sure what to think or feel.

Joel killed the engine and then turned to you immediately, extending an arm partway across the back of your seat and leaning the other against the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry,” he said again.

“You didn't do anything wrong.”

Joel's eyes squinted and he glanced down and then immediately back up. "I want this. I want you and us. Nothing has changed.. not for me.”

“It hasn't changed for me either.” You shook your head.

Us... Your heart fluttered from the way he joined the two of you together. .You let out a breath through your nose.

"Your wife," you began.

"Ex..." Joel swallowed hard.

"What does that mean with regard to... us?"

"Well, that all depends."

"On what?"

"On you."

Your eyes widened a bit. "On me?"

Joel scratched his beard and let out a deep breath. "Look, I'm in the process of ending my marriage legally. You're young and free and able to do whatever the hell you want. I should be fuckin' telling you to forget about all this but honestly,” he sighed, "I don't want you to forget about it. I love knowing you want me just as bad as I want you. Since the night I saw you sitting out on that step in your parents' back yard I have been in the best damn fuckin' mood."

You knew your face was filled with shock. Hearing him say those words reassured your contentment in the relationship. A part of you was scared he might have wanted to break things off.

Your heart and your hormones easily drowned out any negativity and you suddenly wore a big smile. A flush of red rushed into your cheeks and you looked down as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Your turn." Joel waited for your to look back up at him, and when your eyes met his you couldn't help yourself. Rather than respond you leaned across the truck to leave a long, needy kiss on his lips.

"I just needed to know that," you told him, separating your lips from his before going back in to kiss him again with more urgency, "I've never felt like this before and I'm not willing to let you go."

"Does it bother you?" Joel asked, pulling you back to him by the back of your head so your lips connected again. You kissed him hard and almost didn't stop.

"I was nervous before I talked to you tonight,” you admitted, “But I feel better now.”

He cleared his throat and twisted his hat around backwards, looking you directly in the eye as he spoke. Joel looked your up and down a moment, "I'm fuckin' addicted to you honey. I look forward to this in a way that I haven't looked forward to anything in awhile.” He leaned his head all the way back, putting his hands behind his head with a deep sigh. His eyes never left yours.

You swallowed hard. Everything he said aloud were feelings you could openly relate to, and the boyish image of him with the backwards hat that accompanied his otherwise manly features, left you aching to act on all of your hormonal urges.

The two of you just stared at each other for a moment before you finally took control and slid across the into the driver's seat, straddling him there so you were face to face.

Joel's hands immediately dropped to your waist, one snaking up the back of your shirt as your lips connected again. "I fucking love," he kissed your again, "...how you take charge."

"Is this going to work?"you asked quietly as he began to kiss your neck before peeling off your shirt.

"Yes." Joel breathed the word against your lips and kissed you again, peeling down the front of your bra as he did.

You closed your eyes as his mouth latched onto your breast. "Mmm..” you moaned. “Okay."

"If you're okay, I'm okay."

You decided to speak his language and chuckled into his ear, "Fuck yeah I am."

Joel chuckled back and pulled away to look directly at you again. "That's my girl."

His girl. You would never get sick of that phrase.

“I want to be your girl.”

“That's what you are.”

“Mmm..” you gave him a long closed-mouth kiss and pulled back.

Joel reached around your body and turned off the truck. He then glanced around the immediate area out the window, seemingly pleased by the desolate nature of the darkening surroundings and nodded his head toward the lake.

“Come on.” He popped open the door and began to help you off his lap.

You followed his lead, but couldn't help but ask. "Where are we going?"

"If I tell you I'll have to kill you."

"Then I'll die happy." When he turned, you grinned and Joel smiled back as he already began to peel off his shirt as he hopped out of the truck.

You only walked a short distance further before hitting a small clearing by the side of the lake. "This is where I usually come to fish." Joel turned his head and smirked again, "I rarely cross paths with anyone."

"Hmm..." You let a smile spread across your face and then giggled when he tossed his shirt to the ground and began to undo his pants.

"What's, uh... what's the plan?" You asked

"Take off your clothes."

Your eyes scanned the immediate area and you let out a loud, unexpected laugh when Joel pulled you to him, clad in nothing but his boxer-briefs with his pants around his ankles. When he almost fell from the lack of balance he snickered and pulled your face to his so your lips playfully collided.

"No one comes here," he reiterated in a whisper, still grinning before kissing you a little harder.

You couldn't deny him when he kissed you that way, or when he showed his playfully aggressive side. In fact it almost made you worship him further and without another thought you attempted to pull off your bra.

"This is nice," Joel toyed with the strap. Before you could respond he had the back of it unclipped and easily let it slide off your arm.

He scooped you off the ground by the backs of your legs and your arms and legs immediately wrapped around him as you kissed some more.

“Fuck, I want you,” you choked out. Your censorship around him diminished the more comfortable you got around him.

"Mmm…” Joel moaned into your mouth and allowed you back down onto your feet. He stepped out of his pants, stripped down to nothing and didn't say another word as he towed you with him toward the lake. Without hesitation he sloshed into the body of water and dove under, head first.

You stood grinning on the side, biting down on your bottom lip for several seconds before braving the water as he had upon sliding off your pants.

Joel immediately pulled your body back against his and connected your lips with his again. "I thought you were going to chicken out."

"Sometimes I just need a little push," you told him, reaching down below his waist. "Or a... big push." You smiled when his eyes closed as you touched him.

"Mmm..." He moaned and allowed your to continue.

"What are we going to do when it gets cold outside?" You smiled, continuing to stroke him beneath the water.

Joel kept his eyes closed, subconsciously running his tongue across his bottom lip as he did though gave a coherent response. "My truck has heat honey." He smiled briefly but immediately got back in the moment. “Ughhh..” he groaned.

You brought your lips back to his, pleased by his response and only stopped what you werr doing when Joel grabbed your face hard with both hands as he kissed you more aggressively.

"Don't stop," he mumbled into your mouth.

You moaned now, attempting to grab a hold of him again though when he picked you up easily again by the backs of your knees you clung to him in the water.

"Might be hard to fuck like this." Joel choked out the words but easily slipped inside of you with the aid of the water. You moaned simultaneously. "Maybe not."

You wrapped your arms around the back of his shoulders and sighed his name aloud, holding you with ease.

"Ohh... you have no fucking idea," he whispered, digging his fingers into your hips as he moved you up and down on his dick.

You muffled a moan into the nook of his neck and grasped him tighter. "No idea what?"

Joel let out a louder moan this time. "You're fuckin' amazing, honey." His eyes remained closed, "Fuck."

You smiled, but immediately got pulled back into the pleasure of the moment, eagerly giving Joel all the appreciation you could through a series of moans that you found more difficult to contain as you carried on.

The more you were together, the less you care about the consequences. Could you get caught out in public together? Yes. Could there be potential repercussions because of it? Yes. Were there 'safer' places to screw around? Yes. Could his wife find out? Yes. Your parents? Yes.

None of it mattered. It was almost as if the high of the moment would make up for it, even if the worst possible scenario happened to occur. It being Joel's idea to hit his so-called discreet fishing spot made you all the more confident in your security. You developed a trust in Joel and embraced that whole heartedly. Logic had fizzled out and the feeling and emotion had completely taken over.

You were beginning to feel like the initial infatuation had blossomed into something more; something you warned yourself about many times over. You had no feeling close to compare it to, but you couldn't help but acknowledge that had fully and completely fallen for your older, married neighbor. You were in love with Joel Miller.

CLICK HERE FOR PART 10

@pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421

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[lookninjas]

Oh, wait, part II:

'Cause I felt like doing a metal one too.

So none of this is Pure Moods! Most of it is pretty metal, though.

Pick a song from a bad description! You do not need to recognize the song from the description. Go by vibes. Listen to your gut. At the end of a week, I will make a playlist out of all the songs from the song with the least votes to the song with the most votes. If you would like to listen to the playlist when it's done, leave a comment or put it in the tags when you reblog, and I will tag you! If you really want to know what a song is, shoot me an ask and I will answer.

And please reblog the poll! Reblogs make it fun.

[albinodeer]

Deadly Heart: A Helluva Boss Fanfic

This is my latest commission for @kiddoryder, who came up with (most of) the plot as well as the title! If you enjoy this, please consider reaching out to me for a commission! Details can be found on my blog.

            Blitzo stared at the walls of his home where he had pictures of his friends and his daughter pinned up, all with his own face deliberately scratched out or covered. His thoughts spiraled down the dark hole that they liked to explore any time Blitzo had a bad night.

            It had been about a week since the incident at Ozzie’s and his fight with Stolas. Loona was gone more often than she was home, so he was left alone with his thoughts and a bottle, which was never a good combination. Blitzo didn’t drink that often, but when he did, it went one of two ways: he felt fantastic and ended the night in bed with someone, or he felt awful and ended the night alone, clinging to his phone for reminders that he had something to live for.

            Tonight seemed to be the second type.

            Why had he even bothered going? What did he think he would gain? Why was he stupid enough to invite Stolas, of all people?

            As if on cue, Blitzo’s phone rang in his hand. He nearly dropped it on the floor as he scrambled to hit the green “answer” button when he saw the name on the screen.

            “Stolas!” he said into the phone. He mentally dialed back his excitement and anxiousness before repeating his name. “Stolas. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

            The voice that came from Blitzo’s phone sounded so nice to his drunk ears. “I want to talk,” he said. He sounded sad, too.

            “Oh, okay. Yeah. I mean, I figured, since you called.”

            Wow, Blitzo thought, what a stupid fucking thing to say.

            Stolas replied with a half-hearted chuckle. “Would you like to come here? Via is with her mother, so we could be alone and talk.”

            Blitzo thought about it for a second. He was a little intoxicated, so he might say something stupid. No, he would definitely say something stupid. But, at the same time, if he didn’t go, he wouldn’t have the chance to say something smart.

            “Yeah,” Blitzo said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “Yeah, I’ll be right over.”

            He pulled himself up off the couch, which took far more effort than it should have, and set the bottle of liquor aside. Stolas would probably have better quality stuff, anyway. He grabbed his jacket off of the hook and pulled it on, covering the spots along his arms. It wasn’t like Stolas hadn’t seen them, but Blitzo always felt just a little more secure with the jacket on anyway.

            He took a few steps toward the door. Was he sober enough to drive there without killing himself? He guessed that part really didn’t matter as much as making sure that the company van made it out in one piece. He gave himself a makeshift sobriety test, putting one foot in front of the other and walking along an imaginary tightrope on the floor.

            Good enough.

            He opened the door and stepped outside into the thick, humid air of the night. He fumbled for his keys in his jacket pocket, then accidentally dropped them on the ground. Shit. Blitzo sighed as he bent to grab them. Maybe that was a sign from the universe that he was just supposed to stay home and stop wasting Stolas’ time.

            Too bad he didn’t believe in signs.

            The van was parked around the corner, and he climbed in. As soon as he turned the key in the ignition, music started blaring from all four speakers. He jumped and reached for the dial, turning the volume down until the music was almost imperceptible. Obviously, he had been in a better mood the last time he had been in the van.

            He pressed the gas without bothering with his seatbelt. The van lurched forward, faster than Blitzo had intended, and almost slammed into a garbage pail on the other side of the street.

            Fuck, Blitzo thought, get it together.  

            He lifted his foot off the gas just a little and eased around the corner. He watched as the world seemed to pass by him, instead of him passing by the world. A few imps wandered the streets. Some were obviously looking for their next fix; some were providing it. One imp looked lost, their eyes scanning the streets as they turned from one side to the other. If Blitzo were a better imp, he might have stopped to help. Instead, he pressed onward.

            The sights changed as he got closer to Stolas’ mansion. There was less trash, both literal and in the form of wandering imps and demons, and more streetlights. It was harder to sneak up on someone and assassinate them when there was more light. There was also more greenery. Blitzo sometimes wondered if Stolas ever had anything to do with that. He did love plants, after all.

            Finally, Blitzo arrived in Stolas’ driveway. The cameras at the end trained on him for a second, but he and his van were common visitors at this point. Though always armed, Blitzo posed no threat to Stolas.

            He stopped the van outside the door and put it in park before turning the key. Blitzo was somewhat rattled by how silent everything became all of a sudden. He stared at the handle on his car door for a second, contemplating turning around and heading home to drink himself unconscious. But, he was already there. He opened the door and stepped out.

            Blitzo shut the car door behind him and looked up at the mansion. Stolas was waiting there for him, a smile spread across his face.

“Blitz!” he greeted, the “y” on the end noticeably missing.

“Hey, Stolas,” Blitzo said, shoving his hands in his pockets before heading up the steps to the front door.

Stolas’ smile faded slightly as Blitzo approached him. “Blitz, have you been drinking? Did you drive all the way here in this condition?”

            Blitzo shrugged. “I’m fine, Stolas,” he replied, purposefully leaving the question unanswered. He stepped inside without being invited.

            Stolas didn’t argue. He followed Blitzo inside, shutting the door behind them.

            Blitzo started to head toward the bedroom with his hands still in his pockets, but Stolas gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I was thinking that we could actually just talk,” he told Blitzo.

            Blitzo turned to him with a suspicious glare. “Why?”

            He watched as a slight blush covered Stolas’ cheeks. “Well, the way we left things the other night was… less than ideal.”

            Blitzo softened a little. Less than ideal. Yeah, that was one way to put it. He had brought Stolas into the line of fire, figuratively of course, and Stolas had, figuratively, let Blitzo take the bullet.

            “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Blitzo sighed.

            “I was going to offer to pour us some wine, but…”

            “Red’s fine,” Blitzo cut him off, knowing that it was going to be “but you’re already drunk.”

            Stolas complied, grabbing the bottle and two glasses before leading Blitzo into the living room. Blitzo plopped down on the couch and looked around. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the mansion outside of the bedroom. Had this been one of the rooms he and Stolas had spent time in together the first time they met as kids? He couldn’t be sure. So much had changed since then.

            Stolas poured the wine for them. He had told his servants to be somewhere else for the night, and they were eager to comply. Blitzo noticed the lack of other imps around, but he didn’t comment.

            “So,” Stolas started, handing Blitzo a glass, “I just want to… I mean, I know you know that… I can’t let…” The owl sighed.

            Blitzo studied Stolas’ face, trying to figure out what was going on behind the prince’s eyes. Blitzo’s brain, of course, jumped to the worst. “You’re ditching me and keeping the book,” he said as more of a statement of fact than a question.

            Stolas’ four eyes widened. “What? No! No, not that at all!”

            Blitzo was taken aback by this. Really? Blitzo had gotten Stolas’ entire personal life broadcasted to the entirety of Ozzie’s, and Stolas wasn’t leaving him for it? “Then, what’s this about?”

            Stolas sighed again. “Blitzo, I⸻”

            Stolas’ speech was cut off by a loud bang in the foyer area of the mansion. Blitzo stood first, his hand going for his gun which he… had left at home. Damn it.

Stolas blocked Blitzo with his arm, rising as well. “Stay here.”

            Blitzo started to argue, but Stolas held up a hand for silence. He stepped forward and walked toward the foyer. Blitzo followed but hung back just a little. He jumped when he heard a scream from the other room. It wasn’t Stolas, though. It was much more feminine.

            “Where is he?” the voice came, loud and shrill.

            Stella.

            “You broke the fucking door,” Stolas’ voice came next, incredulous. Blitzo fell back. Stolas could handle his wife on his own.

            “I saw that imp’s van outside,” Stella snapped. The way that she said “imp” made it sound like the vilest of curse words. Blitzo tried not to take it personally. Stella continued, “I know he’s in here.”

            “So?” Stolas shot back. “I may entertain whomever I chose. You don’t live here anymore.”

            “And now he gets to?”

            Stolas laughed wryly. “You do not get to choose who lives here. This is my home.”

            Blitzo wanted to clarify that he did not live there, but he didn’t know if that would hurt or help Stolas’ point.

            “Where the fuck is he, Stolas?” Stella hissed. “Tell. Me.”

            “Stella…”

            Blitzo heard the click of the safety coming off of a gun. Shit shit shit.

            He grabbed the closest thing to him that could be used as a weapon: the base of the lamp. For Blitzo, it was almost the size of a baseball bat, and just as heavy as one. He stealthily made his way toward the voices.

            “Put that down,” Stolas demanded. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

            Stella laughed. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Stolas.” The way she said “Stolas” made it sound more like a curse than a name.

            Blitzo gritted his teeth as he rounded the corner and swung the lamp as hard as he could toward the source of Stella’s voice. The lamp made contact, but it only served to knock Stella back a few feet. Blitzo was getting ready to swing again when he registered the sight of Stella smirking and the barrel of a gun eclipsing his vision.

            “No!”

            The voice came from behind him. Stolas. Then, before Blitzo could even think to move, Stolas was squarely between himself and the gun.

            A shot rang out.

            Blitzo’s senses seemed to dull for a second. His panicked scream didn’t reach his own ears. The sight of the gun dropping to the floor seemed to be in slow motion, and it made only the smallest noise as it landed on the marble. His muscles felt slow and weak as he looked up at Stella’s face, registering a mixture of fear and surprise and… satisfaction, for only a split second before dropping to his knees.

            His wits returned to him as his knees hit the cool floor. He grabbed the gun before Stella could reach it. It didn’t matter, though. She was already running.

            Blitzo’s attention turned sharply to Stolas, who had crumpled to the ground beside him in a pool of his own blood.

            No…

            “Stay with me,” Blitzo muttered as he turned Stolas over to assess the damage. “Come on, stay with me.”

            The bullet had ripped through the prince’s shirt and skin, staining his beautiful white feathers a deep crimson. Blitzo felt around as Stolas groaned in pain, the only sign that he was still alive. No exit wound. The bullet was lodged somewhere inside of him.

            Blitzo put pressure on the wound as he tried to think. He knew how to take care of bullet wounds, but that was on imps, not Goetia princes. Surely royalty had to have some kind of private medical service, right? Though, how often would Stolas actually have to deal with a medical emergency? His powers were so strong that he probably never got hurt.

            Blitzo took a deep breath. Focus. He needed to focus. The only way out of this was to keep his wits about him and act. Who would know what to do?

            Oh, fuck, Blitzo thought. Octavia.

            Octavia would know exactly what to do. She was a part of the family. She would know the protocol. Blitzo grabbed his phone and found the number while keeping pressure on the wound with his other hand.

            The voice that came from the phone sounded skeptical and tired. “Hello?”

            “Don’t hang up,” Blitzo said quickly. “It’s about your father.”

            Octavia scoffed. “I don’t want to speak to you.”

            Of course she didn’t. Why would she want to talk to the imp who was fucking her father and ended her parents’ marriage? He didn’t blame her, but he did need her.

            “I know, but he’s been shot,” Blitzo told her urgently, cutting off her startled gasp as he continued. “What do I do? Where do I bring him?”

            “I’ll send you the address now. Get him there. They’ll know what to do.”

            Blitzo was impressed by Octavia’s steady tone. The way that she was able to put her feelings aside and work to solve the problem at hand showed maturity far beyond her years. Blitzo wondered if he had caused some of that with the turmoil he had brought into their family.

            “Got it,” Blitzo said before hanging up. He didn’t wait for the address. He placed Stolas’ hands over the wound, instructing him to keep pressure on it and praying that Stolas could follow the direction, before running outside.

            He pulled the van up as close to the door as possible and threw open the back door before heading back inside. This was going to be difficult as fuck.

            “Come on,” Blitzo grunted as he did his best to lift Stolas to his feet. “I need a little help here.”

            Stolas made a small movement but was unable to get up.

            “God fucking damn it,” Blitzo mumbled, jumping up once again. He heard his phone go off in his pocket. Hopefully that was Octavia sending the address. It wouldn’t matter, though, if Blitzo couldn’t get Stolas in the goddamn van.

            He almost fell this time as he raced down the front steps to the van, leaving the door wide open behind him. “Sorry about this, baby,” he mumbled to the vehicle before throwing it into reverse and swerving backward. He turned the van so the front was facing the main entrance, then floored it.

            The van roared as it lurched up the stairs. The driver’s side mirror caught on the entrance to the mansion and was torn off, but Blitzo was able to skid the van to a halt before it did any more damage.

            Blitzo jumped out of the driver’s seat and ran around to Stolas. He used all of his strength to pull Stolas into the back of the van, doing his best not to hurt him even more. Stolas was already weakening. Blitzo could tell by his lack of reaction to the jostling.

            Blitzo slammed the door shut once he was in. “Sorry about this,” he said, climbing into the front seat. He flinched a little as he put the van in reverse once more and hurtled back down the stairs.

            He obliterated some shrubs on the way out, but he figured that Stolas wouldn’t care about that in a time like this. That was, if Stolas even made it…

            No. He couldn’t think like that. He pulled up the address on his phone and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, tearing out onto the road with little regards for anyone else. Luckily, there weren’t many other cars on the road.

            In the back seat, Stolas made a small, pained wheeze.

            “Just hang in there two more minutes,” Blitzo told him. “We’re almost there. We’re gonna get you some help.”

            He blew through a red light, nearly hitting a pedestrian as he did. Blitzo didn’t care. He could see the building up ahead. It looked like a smaller version of the hospitals imps could go to if they deemed themselves worthy of professional medical care. Blitzo never had.

            He didn’t bother taking the curved road into the hospital parking lot, choosing instead just to cut across the grass. The car screeched to a halt in front of the front doors where several doctors and nurses were already waiting for them. Octavia must have called.

            They had the back door open and Stolas on a gurney before Blitzo could even open his door. Blitzo ran around to the other side of the car and reached for Stolas’ hand as he as wheeled inside. A strong hand pressed against Blitzo’s chest.

            “Thank you for bringing him. We will take it from here,” the nurse said, stopping him from moving any further.

            “No, you don’t understand, I’m his…”

            “Sorry. Servants aren’t allowed in. You will have to wait outside.”

            Blitzo felt a pang in his chest. Servant. That’s what they thought he was. He started to argue, but before he could get another word out, the door was shut in his face. Blitzo pulled at the door, but it was locked. He could only watch through the glass as Stolas was pushed through the hall, still bleeding and weak, and disappeared.

            Suddenly, Blitzo realized how cold and uncomfortable he was. He looked down to find that he was drenched in Stolas’ blood, which was starting to dry against his skin and his clothes. He tore off his outer coat and tossed it aside.

            He was so stupid. Who the hell did he think he was to deserve to be with Stolas, even just for sex? If he had never gone after that stupid book, none of this would have happened. Stolas wouldn’t be laying on a hospital gurney on his way to get a bullet removed from his side. He would be with his kid, talking about the stars or taxidermy or whatever the hell it was the two of them talked about.

            Blitzo rubbed his hands frantically against his pants, trying to get the blood off of them. It wasn’t working. His pants were soaked, too. All he was doing was spreading it around. He dropped to the ground next to the door and bit back a sob. This was all his fault. All his fucking fault.

            He was pulled out of his thoughts by a quiet voice.

            “Blitzo?”

            Blitzo looked up and saw Octavia standing in front of him. He could tell that she had been crying, and her entire body was shaking. He forced himself back to his feet.

            “Octavia,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

            Octavia looked past him, through the glass doors. “Where is he?”

            “They just took him inside. I wasn’t allowed in,” Blitzo explained.

            Octavia made eye contact with the receptionist inside and waved her down. “Is he going to be okay?”            

            Blitzo swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know.”

            The receptionist opened the door. “Right this way,” she said to Octavia. “But he has to…”

            “He’s coming with me,” Octavia cut the receptionist off. Her voice was even and demanding of respect. The receptionist didn’t argue.

            They both stepped inside and were led to an elevator by one of the nurses. Blitzo couldn’t help but notice the disapproving glares of the few demons in halls. They climbed into the elevator and rode to the second floor, then were led to a clean, empty hospital room.

            “We will bring him here as soon as he is finished with surgery. We will keep you updated on his progress,” the nurse told them, motioning to the two chairs in the room for them to sit in.

            Octavia stopped the nurse before she could leave. “He will be needing a change of clothes,” she reported, pointing at Blitzo and his blood-soaked attire.

            The nurse looked at him, the disdain evident in her face. “I’ll see what I can do.” She left the room and shut the door behind her.

            An awkward silence followed.

            Octavia sat down in one of the chairs and stared at Blitzo. Blitzo stared at the ground, trying to figure out what to say. An apology didn’t feel good enough. He couldn’t just say, “Sorry I was fucking your dad which made your parents split up and your mom go crazy and try to kill your dad.” No. An apology wouldn’t really do. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

            “I’m sorry.”

            The sound didn’t come from him. Blitzo looked up at Octavia in earnest surprise. “What?”

            “Don’t make me say it again, old man,” Octavia grumbled.

            Blitzo shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

            “I’m sorry that I was so mean to you, and to my dad about you,” Octavia clarified begrudgingly. “You make him happy. I hadn’t seen him that happy in years.”

            She started to tear up. Blitzo didn’t know what to say.

            “And now,” Octavia continued, “I might never see him again…” She finally broke down in tears, holding her face in her hands as she sobbed.

            “No,” Blitzo said. “Don’t say that. He’s gonna be fine.”

            Octavia sniffed and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “It was my mom, wasn’t it?” she asked.

            Blitzo was silent.

            Octavia took a deep, shuddering breath. “I saw her grab a gun before she left. I didn’t know what she was doing. I didn’t think that she would actually…”

            Blitzo had to be honest with her, even if she would just hate him again because of it. “She wasn’t trying to kill him.”

            Octavia’s face scrunched in confusion. “What?”

            “She wasn’t trying to kill your father. She was trying to kill me.”

            Maybe he should have let her succeed.

            Octavia’s mouth opened, but then shut. She didn’t have a response. Blitzo didn’t blame her. The bullet was supposed to be in his head, not in Stolas’ side.

            The tension was broken as the door was opened and the nurse stepped back inside with a change of clothes for Blitzo. “This was the best I could do,” she said, setting the clothes on the end of the hospital bed.

            “How is he?” Octavia asked quickly.

            The nurse turned to look at Octavia. “He lost a lot of blood. They are removing the bullet and they are going to give him a blood transfusion. I will let you know when we know more.”

            The nurse left the two of them alone. Blitzo held up the clothes. They were obviously meant for children, but they were almost his size. He hated the size difference between himself and the royals. Still, the clothes were better than his blood-soaked ones.

            “Can ya turn around?” he asked Octavia, who silently complied. He got undressed as quickly as he could and pulled on the fresh clothes. He felt stupid in the brightly colored shirt and pants. It reminded him a little too much of his past.

            “You can turn back around,” he told Octavia. She did, and she stared at him for a second. Blitzo thought that she was still angry with him and thinking of an eloquent way to say, “Fuck you,” but instead, she started laughing.

            Blitzo’s expression remained serious for a moment, but then he couldn’t help himself. He laughed, too. The tension slowly melted away.

            “I look ridiculous,” he said.

            “You really do.” Octavia wiped tears from her eyes. Blitzo couldn’t tell if they were from laughing or crying.

            Blitzo finally sat down. “I wish that I would have stopped this from happening,” Blitzo told her softly.

            Octavia nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. But we didn’t…”

            “Octavia, I…”

            Octavia cut him off. “Don’t. Let’s just… Let’s just wait for him. Okay?”

            Blitzo shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “Yeah. Okay.”

            The moments passed in silence until the door opened once again. Both Octavia and Blitzo stood as the doctor entered. Neither were able to speak.

            The doctor cleared his throat. “We were able to remove the bullet. After the blood transfusion, his vitals are stable. He is expected to make a full recovery.”

            Octavia gasped joyfully and Blitzo sunk back into his chair. Stolas was alive. Stolas was going to be okay.

            “He’s in post-op now. We will bring him here as soon as he wakes up,” the doctor said. He nodded his acknowledgement to Octavia before leaving.

            “He’s okay,” Octavia breathed. “He’s okay.”

            Blitzo just nodded. He was filled with feelings that he couldn’t explain, even to himself. Slowly, he realized something… 

            He loved Stolas.

            Fuck.

            That wasn’t good. That screwed up a lot. That put Stolas at risk. That put them both at risk. But still…

            The door opened once again and both Octavia and Blitzo jumped out of their chairs as Stolas was rolled in. The nurses transferred him to the bed and set him up with an IV and an oxygen mask as the pair stood close by.

            After a moment, the nurses left, and the three were left alone. Octavia reached out and took Stolas’ hand. Tears filled her eyes but didn’t spill over onto her cheeks.

            Stolas’ head turned slightly, but Blitzo could tell that he wasn’t fully conscious.

            “I’m sorry, Dad,” Octavia said softly. “I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry. I ignored how happy he made you. I was just so upset. I should’ve been there…”

            “No,” Blitzo assured her. “No. I’m glad you weren’t there. He wouldn’t have wanted you there.”

            Octavia nodded. “I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you… Don’t give that up just because my mother’s a bitch.”

            Blitzo felt himself choke up a little. “I won’t.”

            Octavia let go of Stolas’ hand and grabbed Blitzo’s. She placed his hand on her father’s, patted it, then stepped back. “I’m going to find the vending machine. Stay here with him.” She stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

            Blitzo let his fingers curl around Stolas’. Stolas’ tightened in return. Blitzo couldn’t help himself any longer. He started sobbing.

            “Stolas, I’m sorry. I didn’t think… I didn’t think that you actually…” He needed to pull himself together. He took a deep, shaky breath. “I didn’t think you actually cared about me. I thought it was just sex…”

            Stolas’ fingers wrapped even tighter around Blitzo’s. He was in there somewhere, just not able to speak.

            “Stolas,” Blitzo said, almost inaudibly, “I love you. I’m sorry.”

            Stolas didn’t have to say anything. His grip loosened and tightened three times in a row.

            It was the clearest “I love you” that Blitzo had ever heard.

***

            It took a while for Stolas to fully wake up, but Blitzo and Octavia were waiting there for him when he did. He opened all of his eyes and blinked at the two of them.

            “Via… Blitzy…” he breathed.

            Octavia and Blitzo stood and rushed to his bedside. Octavia grabbed his hand. “Dad!”

            Stolas smiled weakly. “My two loves…”

            Octavia leaned down and wrapped her arms around her father. “Dad, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried.”

            “I’m okay,” he assured her, squeezing her as hard as he could. He looked over Octavia’s shoulder at Blitzo and smiled. “We’re all going to be okay.”

            Blitzo smiled back. He didn’t say anything, but he knew that he didn’t have to.

            Octavia stood back up and wiped tears from her eyes. “I love you, Dad.”

            “I love you, too, Via.” Stolas looked back over at Blitzo and ran his eyes over the imp’s body. “Did you dress up just for me, Blitzy? You look rather… playful.”

            Blitzo couldn’t help but smile as he rolled his eyes.

            “Well, I hope you’ll forgive me,” Stolas said, “but I think this little… role play will have to wait.”

            Octavia groaned. “Dad.”

            Stolas chuckled at his own joke and settled back into his bed. Blitzo rolled his eyes again and walked toward the door. “I’ll go pack some clothes and things for Octavia and I. I’ll be back soon.”

            He opened the door but stopped when he heard Stolas’ voice behind him.

            “Blitzo?”

            Blitzo turned to look at Stolas, who smiled softly at him.

            “Do be careful, my love.”

            Blitzo felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. Stupid feelings.

            “Yeah,” he said, “I will be.”

[halfcrackedguru]

A Message from the Universe ~ An Important Reminder

A Message from the Universe ~ An Important Reminder, 8 Bit Tarot Cards Today's Message from the Universe is reminding you that all your hard work isn't in vain. You may be anxious and facing some sleepless nights worrying about your current and future financial status or the status of a project that sometimes feels out of reach. I'm sure the holiday season isn't necessarily helping to calm your worry either. Try not to doubt yourself and answer any inner doubt with a little logic and a lot of reasons to believe that your hard work will pay off. Your determination alone has pushed this thing into existence, it's just a slow process. Try to gain a little perspective by really looking at where you started so you can see all the progress you've made. Just because you're not yet where you want to be doesn't mean it's not working. I've said it a million times before and I'll say it a million more...stable and sustainable foundations take time. Don't let your uncertainty turn into a panic that causes you to make moves out of desperation. While there may be a lot of trial and error involved here, you still want to give any changes you make enough time to take root before you decide to change them again. Stay consistent, stay positive, and remember, you would not have put so much of yourself into this if it was some impossible fantasy. You're doing this so keep doing it :) TODAY'S CRYSTALS: Jade Pink Banded Agate Unakite Fluorite Amethyst TODAY'S DECK: 8 Bit Fantasy Tarot CHECK OUT THIS DECK: Garbage Pail Kids: The Official Tarot Deck and Guidebook (Officially Licensed) TODAY'S MUSIC: "Foo Fighters, Everlong" "Pearl Jam, Even Flow" Thank you! Your tips and donations help to pay for the website and other costs that help me to bring these messages to you :) Read the full article

[rayshippouuchiha]

Toni and Shuri get on like a house on fire. T'Challa desperately clung to Rhodey's shoulder. They literally set a house on fire.

YEeessssssss.

Toni and Shuri are standing innocent faced in front of the smoldering ruins of some house.

T’Challa and Rhodey are staring at the both of them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

The Dora are suspiciously silent behind them.

“In my, our, defense,” Toni finally breaks down after long intense eye contact with both of them.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“You were saying something about a defense, my love, “ T’Challa prompts her a few seconds later.  “I’m eager to hear your case.”

Toni and Shuri exchange a slightly panicked look before they both grin and turn back towards them.

“I’m leaving you for your sister,” both Toni and Shuri blurt out at the same time and T’Challa and Rhodey promptly choke.

“Yes,” Shuri’s face is grave but laughter is sparkling in her eyes, “I’ve stolen your love from you brother.  The spark between us is undeniable.  Fight me.”

“I took your boo Rhodey,” Toni smirks at Rhodey, brow arched high, “I’d say sorry but I’m not.  We met and it was just ... too hot to ignore.  I’m willing to duel you for her too.”

“Oh Toni, my darling,” Shur drawls over-dramatically as they clasp hands, “such a battle would be glorious and explosive.”

“I’d do it for you Nala,” Toni grins at her, wide and bright.  “You’re worth it since you could say we get on ...”

“Don’t do it Toni,” Rhodey groans.

“ .... like a house on fire.” Toni finishes with appropriate aplomb.

There’s a long, charged moment of silence.

Behind T’Challa Okoye snorts.

Toni and Shuri break seconds later, collapsing in on each other, faces bright with laughter and soot streaked.

Beside him Rhodey is little better, hands covering his face and shoulders shaking and mumbling something that sounds like, “world domination, we’re all doomed.”

T’Challa has a migraine at even the thought of what the two of them will get into in the future.

Also the house is still burning.

But, details.

[kindly-whisper-norbury]

Little 80s Things

Avon

Betamax

The Noid

Underoos

Old Spice

CB Radios

T-shirt clips

Paper maps

Jams shorts

Guest towels

Skating Rinks

Slap bracelets

Jelly bracelets

Sticker albums

Max Headroom

Who Shot J.R.?

Slide Projectors

Love's Baby Soft

Candy cigarettes

Fiber optic lamps

Metal lunchboxes

Garbage Pail Kids

AquaNet hairspray

Denim & lace skirts

Tupperware parties

Wacky WallWalkers

Sweet Pickles books

Fighting over the Atari

Rose scented everything

Gum in trading card packs

Learning to swim at the YMCA

ET finger toys that were… umm…

The "zip-zop-zip" of corduroy pants

Trying to breakdance and Moonwalk

Plastic Halloween costumes & masks

Star Wars & He-Man action figure envy

Actual prizes in the Cracker Jack boxes

Making ash trays in school for your parents

Warm bologna sandwiches for school lunch

"Hurry up! The commercials are almost over!"

Getting to sit in the back of the station wagon

Built-in cigarette lighters and ash trays in cars

Those shell shaped soaps that you weren't allowed to use

Scotch taping your Valentines and Christmas cards to the wall

Having customer service page someone because you lost them in the store

Trying to record a song you heard on the radio without missing too much of the beginning

Cheating while playing with the Rubik's Cube by taking the stickers off and rearranging them

Having to make sure you were fast enough leaving your message on the answering machine before you ran out of time

Yelling out the car window "What station are you listening to?" when you heard a good song coming from another car

TV dinners you had to heat up in the oven because they were in metal trays and they always made everything taste like aluminum (also, the greasiest fried chicken ever)

Velcro shoes that annoyed teachers because we wouldn't stop ripping them in class (one of my teachers gave us one minute at the start of class to rip them as many times as we wanted so we wouldn't be tempted by them for the rest of the day)

Trying to make sure you could always see the other cars you are traveling with long-distance on the highway, because only the driver in the first car knew where to go; then that first car having to stop by the side of the road and wait for the others when they inevitably got separated anyway

[apricusdays]

“Woah woah woah woah! Waaah! AAAAH!” Kimberley shouted as she flipped and swung around in the air. The instruments on the visor were something she was used to now but it was far from coherent even after all this time. She didn’t expect to be “practicing” with the controls all screwed up. One dive and a crash later, she picks herself up and stares daggers at the PWSB officer standing there with his arms crossed.

“Just gonna remind you again, Montague, we pailed that thing for a reason. If the calibration is hit too hard everything inverts. Best you learn how to fly like that.” Lieutenant Morado Amun was watching the whole time. The practice had been part of the deal to let the girl keep the failed prototype- under heavy watch. No small amount of strings pulled by the Cheshires and a promise to fund more projects in the future were also a contributing factor but that wasn’t for him to decide. “At least it’s in one piece.”

He lifts his head and nods to a bright light getting closer, the telltale glow of headlights. “Looks like your ride’s here.”

Charlotte Montague marched out of the car in way sterner than most of the officers her sister had been around. The look she gave Morado was, as always, vicious. “Get in. I’ve got an executive meeting in two hours and we have the entire city to cross.” Charlotte refused to take the public transit and wasn’t too keen on Kimberley doing so either. This made their trips from one end of the city to the other much slower due to the traffic, but it also meant they didn’t have to rely on anyone else- least of all the city government.

“I’m guessing that means no tacos on the way home, huh?”

“Keep your jokes to yourself, flyboy,” Charlotte tossed back, “Besides we don’t eat that garbage. Come on.”

Kimberley stood up as the flight suit collapsed around her. She did as she was asked and headed to her sister’s car. When the door closed, the military pilot had simply turned and left with a wave. Once they were on the road, the first question came.

“Why do you keep doing this? There’s no point to it; you’re only building up a debt to the Bureau.” It was asked every single time they left from this training with almost no variation.

“Everyone else is... I keep losing them. Onyx, Ivory, Jaime... they’re all... fighting now. I don’t know why but... What if I don’t and they leave me behind?” It was her usual answer. The details were always a little different- mostly because she was hoping maybe she’d finally come up with a satisfying answer. 

“So what? You don’t need them either. We don’t need anyone, Kimmy. It’s just us. It’s always been just us. Let the rest of it burn down.” 

And then what? It was a question she never had the courage to ask Charlotte. Instead she just nodded and remained silent, letting the lights of the city flash by her while they sped through the freeway and occasionally drifted around slower vehicles. Staring out the window she saw a few streaks soar through the sky.

“Yeah... I guess you’re right.” She said noncommittally.

Kimberley gently stroked the feathers behind her ear. The bird cosmetics were one she enjoyed mostly because she liked the look of them. They made her stand out since almost no one else had something like this- and not just because they were expensive. Lately, though, she had been feeling more and more like her cosmetic namesake with the flying.

And she was starting to finally see the bars of her cage.

[docholligay]

I liked the second book most! It added the "lovable" prefix to the asshole Lestat was on the first book. Plus, his mother Gabrielle was excellent for saying, in essence, "Son, I love you, and thanks for the everlasting life. But this is my time now, and I'm going to do what I want. Go find yourself a nice girl, cya."

I hated the second book for the same reason!!!! I LOVED Lestat as this fucking piece of garbage, monster, completely unhinged spoilt brat. I did not want any kind of redemption of him! I did not want "Lestat felt sad :( for the people he left behind and gave them lots of secret money :D" I wanted "Lestat was a little rich garbage pail who craved power and immortality"

ANd I could have liked it cast a lot of different ways! Dying Lestat seeks out an answer and finds vampirism, then kills his creator? love it. Or even, to take from some of canon, Lestat runs off with his lover, but he's killed by vampires and Lestat goes full MIchiru, becoming one of them to avenge him but ultimately emptying himself of humanity in the process. But for human beings named Doc, who are me, I didn't want him to be decent! I didn't want him to be understandable! I loved him as the villain of the piece and wanted The Vampire Lestat to be, "Lestat continues to be an absolute monster but in France tho" although, I mean, upon reflection it was pretty naïve of me to expect that.

It's hilarious how truly sometimes being an author is a no-win situation. A book that absolutely annoys the shit out of one person delights another.

[adamgnade]

“OVER HEADS, OVER GRAVE, OVER DEATH” BY ADAM GNADE

Whenever I’m set to board a flight, I feel like writing my will and calling those I love to say goodbye.

Two days ago, I watched the news on my phone while I ate dinner alone in the farmhouse. It was Russian invasion coverage, war crimes, NATO talks, then analysis on the confirmation hearing of Ketanji Brown Jackson.

I should’ve turned it off when the story of the Chinese plane crash began, but I didn’t and now I can’t stop seeing the plane drop out of the sky.

Flying to California, I think of Ritchie Valens and the premonition he had of his death. I know it from the movie. Lou Diamond Phillips as Ritchie. His death at 17, thrown from the plane’s cabin as it cartwheeled across a frozen field in Clear Lake, Iowa.

Turbulence now—the plane I’m in rocks side to side like a car skidding out on a wet road as we climb into the clouds.

“So, this is normal?” asks a woman sitting somewhere behind me.

No one answers.

It is. Normal, I mean.

We shake through the air then the plane levels out and flies straight and now we’re rising smooth through the sunny clouds.

I breathe out.

Exhale.

Hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

Now—the dull murmur of voices in the cabin and the ocean sound of the engines; the air blowing through the vents as the overhead bins rattle just slightly.

A girl in the row across from me sleeps, bowed forward, head resting on the seat-back of the next row, her arms folded in her lap. The man to the right of me has fallen asleep and the woman next to him sleeps with her balled-up sweater as a pillow propped against the window. (I realize at that moment adults in planes are like toddlers in cars.)

Today is the fourth time I’ve flown since the pandemic began to slow this fall.

Four flights after nearly two years of staying put.

You can grow accustomed to anything.

And I did.

In my will I would divide up future earnings from books and make a clause about keeping certain ones in print (as well as publishing the ones I’d rather not see released during my lifetime).

My extensive collection of childhood toys—Star Wars, Voltron, M.U.S.C.L.E. wrestlers, He-Man, GI Joe, Battle Beasts, Transformers, comics, Garbage Pail Kids, marbles—would go to my godsons Willy and Johnsy. Books from my personal library divided between Alison, Frankie, Ethan, and Kenny. All important things—letters, photos, yearbooks—to Alison as well as all the things I’ve loved and collected during my short life—Roman coins, fossils, gems, dinosaur teeth, knives. My car to Frankie’s sister Rebecca if she still needs one. My Civil War saber to Ben Frank. My cowboy boots, Docs, sneakers, clothes, hats, belts, scarves, and sunglasses to Willy and Johnsy because everything comes back in style eventually (while others never fall out of fashion).

A boy behind me is playing a shooting game on the plane—the gunshots sound like someone knocking on the metal frame of a screen-door which is maybe a summer sound, but I think of Ukraine not summer days—Russian forces firing into a crowd at a protest I watched online. Thinking of the protest, I imagine which friends of mine would attend such a thing had it been Stateside, and I imagine them running from the shots.

How many of those arrested will never return to their loved ones? I’ve read enough about Stalin’s gulags and mass graves, and with that in mind, the points of comparison are glaringly obvious.

Gulag is an acronym of “Glavnoye Upravleniye Ispravitelno-Trudovykh Lagerey.” Translated, “Chief Administration of Corrective Labor Camps.” Concentration camps. (A few days ago, the Economist reported 15,000 Russians have been arrested in anti-war protests.)

The Jewish poet Osip Mandelstam was sent to a Russian forced labor camp during “the Great Purge” in 1938.

He never returned.

In one of his final poems, Mandelstam writes:

“When my journey is finally over, Bonds of love will not fade right away, And the heavens’ response still will hover Over heads, over grave, over death.”

Mandelstam’s last letter was sent both to his brother and his wife:

“Dear Shura!

I'm in Vladivostok, SVITL, barracks 11. I got 5 years for K.R.D. [counterrevolutionary activity] by the decision of the OSO [Special Committee of the NKVD]. From Moscow, left from Butyrok on September 9, arrived on October 12. Health is very poor. Exhausted to the extreme. Have lost weight, we're almost unrecognizable. But I don't know if there is any sense in sending clothes, food and money. Try it, all the same. I'm freezing without proper things. Nadinka, I don't know if you're alive, my dove. You, Shura, write to me about Nadia right away. There's a transit point here. They didn't take me to Kolyma. Wintering is possible.

My relatives, kiss you.

Aaxe.

Shurochka, I'm writing more. I've been going to work in recent days, and it's uplifting.

From our camp, a transit camp, they send one to the permanent camp. I obviously got caught in the ‘dropout’ and we have to prepare for the winter. And I'm asking: send me a radiogram and money by telegraph.”

That was it from Mandelstam, one of the finest minds of the 20th century.

Up next for him, the mass grave.

When I fly, I’m obsessed with how people might read the texts from my phone as my final thoughts.

The last texts I sent before boarding the flight were to Alison. A practical exchange:

Me: I’m having breakfast in the restaurant here at the airport and it’s very loud

Her: Okay

Her: My mom offered to pick you up from the airport so you don’t have to Uper

Her: Uber

Me: Where are you going to be?

Her: With them

Her: In the car picking you up

Me: I was thinking maybe we just meet down there, head across town to Pokez,

and meet up with Jeremy and Christine

Me: Was talking with Jeremy about meeting them at Pokez at 7

Her: You want to meet at your parents’ house first?

Me: Let’s meet at the airport or downtown somewhere then Uber to Pokez

Me: I get in at 5:30 something

Me: Then we Uber back to P.B. to sleep.

Me: I’m out of the restaurant now. Gonna call you

Her: I’m about to go into a restaurant

Me: Okay, I’ll call you from Las Vegas

Her: Don’t gamble too much

Me: You can’t stop me

Me: Okay, boarding now. I love you. I’ll call you in shitty Las Vegas.

Her: Don’t gamble too much

Me: You can’t stop me

Me: Okay, boarding now. I love you. I’ll call you in shitty Las Vegas.

Note: originally published at the Three One G site a couple days ago.

[blakelysco-pilot]

Birds of A Feather -- Community Affairs

Clint Barton x Original Female Character

Part one of the Birds of A Feather series. Follow Clint and Blair as they attempt to navigate falling in love, working with the Avengers and being a family. Special appearances by Lucky the Pizza Dog in later installments. Also posted over on AO3. Since no one asked for this, and I am a garbage pail kid for Clint Barton, if you'd like to be tagged, shoot me an ask and I'll be sure to add you. Comments are always appreciated, all I ask is you play nice. Happy reading!

The kitchen on the Avengers level of the tower was bustling as the team began their day. It was a normal Monday; Steve and Natasha were getting ready to spar, while Thor remained enamored with his breakfast. Bruce Banner sat reading the morning paper while sipping his coffee quietly. His lab partner and teammate, Tony, remained sequestered to his lab; no amount of coaxing could get him to leave his current project. Not even the most expensive bottle of scotch. Clint Barton sat perched on the kitchen counter, a steaming mug of coffee clutched in his hands as he watched his teammates.

“Clint, are you sure you don’t want to join?” Natasha stood, arms folded under her bust as she watched him.

“And have you bruise my ass and my ego? I’m good, Tasha.”

“Suit yourself, I would have gone easy on you.”

Beside her, Steve snorted in disbelief.

“I’ll just have to bruise your ego, Rogers.”

Clint chuckled from his perch, the Archer giving the Captain a two fingered mock salute as he exited the kitchen.

“Have fun, Cap!”

“Shut up, Barton.” He laughed, shaking his head, the sound echoing the farther he got from him.

Chugging the last of his coffee, Clint hopped down from the counter, putting the dirty mug in the sink, before spinning on his heel to leave. Giving Bruce and Thor a quick goodbye, the latter booming back that he have a good day around a mouth of food, Clint moved towards the doorway, only stopping after almost colliding with Pepper Potts.

“Clint, good, someone’s up here!”

“Uh, yea... Bruce and Thor are inside,” He nodded. “I was just heading off to target practice.”

“Taxi’s are not target practice, Clint. Try and remember that, please.” She stressed.

“They’re excellent moving targets, Pepper...” He argued back with a grin.

“The Mayor thinks otherwise,” She fixed him with a look, and before he could hit her back with a

Barton-esq retort, he heard a giggle come from behind her.

“Can your bow and arrow survive a few minutes longer without you?”

She didn’t bother waiting for his answer, instead moved into the kitchen he had just exited, and Clint caught sight of a brunette following her, the source of the giggle, and as she passed him by with a kind smile, he immediately followed her into the kitchen like a lost puppy.

“Does anyone know if Tony’s come out of hiding yet?”

“Lady Pepper!”

“Good morning, Thor,” She bit back a laugh, knowing it was near impossible to ever be mad at him, despite his loud nature. The man was like a giant golden retriever, chock full of energy and affection.

“No, Pepper, he’s still locked away in the lab,” Bruce shook his head, turning his attention to the woman he was addressing. Pepper shook her head, and turned to the woman who was standing beside her.

“You’ll meet him eventually, though he’ll probably ask you who you are a few times before it sticks,” Pepper shook her head. “Sorry in advance for anything that may come out of his mouth.”

“All good, Miss Potts...”

“I told you,” She sighed. “Pepper. Or I’m firing you on day one.”

“Fine,” the woman laughed. “How can I argue with that?”

“Oh, I wouldn't try,” Clint spoke with a smile, eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked at the brunette. “Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think you do,” She chuckled. “Blair Thomas.”

“Clint Barton...” Clint shook Blair’s outstretched hand, the Archer’s grin growing wider at the feeling of her hand in his.

“Blair’s our new head of community affairs.” Pepper offered by way of explanation.

“Wasn’t aware we had a community affairs department...” Clint was still focused on Blair as he spoke.

“We don’t, but, SHIELD kept suggesting we get in touch with New York City. After the incident in DC they damn near forced it on us.”

“My apologies on behalf of my ADOPTED brother,” Thor cut in.

Blair outright laughed, and Clint was mesmerized by the sound, rooted to the spot as he watched her.

“I was hoping I’d have caught a few more of you before you started your days,” Pepper sighed.

“Nat and Cap are sparring,” Bruce supplied. “I’d stay clear of the training room for a bit.”

“Noted,” Pepper nodded, then turned to face Blair. “Come on, I’ll show you your new office and let you get settled in.”

“It was nice meeting you all...” Blair smiled, offered a wave, and was out the door with Pepper in a flash.

Clint, still glued to his spot, didn’t notice Bruce getting up to leave, until the scientist had clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Barton...”

“Huh? What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce chuckled, choosing not to tease him, even though he desperately wanted to.

“Have a good day.”

By the time Steve and Natasha had returned from their training session, it was bordering on early afternoon. Clint had shot a few arrows, but found no fun in it after Pepper had suggested he steer clear of the yellow cabs. Tucking his gear away in the armory, he changed back into his jeans and hoodie before heading back towards the kitchen for more coffee and a snack. That’s where he found Natasha and Steve, post workout and filling up their water bottles.

“How’s your ego, Cap?”

Steve rolled his eyes, and the usually stoic Natasha was grinning like the cat that got the cream.

“Bruised.” Steve grumbled and Clint laughed, offering Nat a high five as consolation.

The trio didn’t notice as Blair slipped into the kitchen, a coffee mug in one hand, cell phone in the other. The sound of the fridge opening caused Steve to glance in her direction, the soldier immediately going on the defensive at the unfamiliar woman.

“Shit, sorry,” Blair shook her head, depositing the mug and the milk carton on the counter. “Blair Thomas, head of community affairs.”

Steve took her outstretched hand, shaking it politely before turning to look at Natasha questioningly and Clint, who looked like someone had shot him with a cupid's arrow.

“We weren’t aware of anyone new joining the team,” Natasha spoke coolly.

“First day and all that,” Blair nodded. “Doctor Banner mentioned you guys were sparring earlier when Pepper and I made the rounds.”

Natasha backed down, but only Clint was able to notice his best friend's subtle movement. To anyone else, Natasha still looked completely wary of the strange woman standing opposite.

“So, community affairs does what, exactly?” The redhead continued to prod.

“Keep the peace?” Blair offered, shrugging as she continued the civil standoff she and Natasha were engaged in. “Keep what's left of SHIELD at bay? Sooth the Mayor when someone shoots arrows at a moving taxi?”

Clint shrugged noncommittally, before looking around the room as if searching for the culprit. It was all he could muster at the moment, because he couldn’t form a single word as he continued to watch Blair.

“Well, the Mayor’s a bit uptight for my taste,” Natasha grinned, offering her hand to Blair, who accepted with a smile.

“Not exactly how I’d describe him,” She rolled her eyes, but winked. “But, I’ll try and watch my language.”

“Steve doesn’t like that kind of talk,” Natasha sighed in mock annoyance.

“Steer clear of my office, Cap,” Blair turned back to the coffee pot, and proceeded to fix her brew to her liking before facing the group again.

Steve laughed, relieved to see what appeared to be Natasha warming up to Blair.

“Got a mouth on you, then?”

Without missing a beat, Blair winked at Clint and spoke swiftly; “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

She exited the kitchen the same way she entered, leaving Steve speechless, Natasha impressed, and Clint absolutely dumbstruck in love.

“Fuck...”Clint scrubbed a hand over his face, watching after where she had disappeared. He was a total goner.

“Oh for crying out loud,” Natasha broke him from what was his umpteenth daydream of the day. “Come on, puppy love, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Clint replied, but followed dutifully.

“Find out if she’s single so you can ask her out.”

Steve turned, watching the pair before shaking his head and following them.

“Wait! Natasha you can’t just...”

“You coming or not, Rogers?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

[spaceintruderdetector]

Various Artists - GARBAGEWEEN (Full Album, Noise / Industrial / Avant Garde / Ambient, 2014)

00:00:00 Psychopathia Sexualis  - David 00:04:21 Dearth & Vixin Pixie -  The Final Chapter Of Infinite Length 00:08:29  Infinity Of 6 - Thunder Blade... Laurie Is As Follows 00:11:02 KissMeYou'reBeautifulTheseAreTrulyTheLastDays -  Song of Beuern 00:15:56 Industrial Steve - Blank Ghost 00:20:55 Malek Metlas - Requiem For A Hoe 00:21:56 Si.rak-sa - Noisedesekrator Destuctozoneamok​ 00:24:36 The Answer To All Your Questions -  The Strangler 00:27:23 Seiei Jack And Ayato -  Evildead_Rmix 00:30:43 Justified Hypochondriac - Nostalgia Birds 00:34:29 To-Bo  -  Kürbisfresse 00:36:30 GraZe -  A Year In Suffering 00:40:03 Soulmate From Space -  You Give Me The Creeps! 00:43:53 Hollowtown - I Have A Special Plan For This World 00:49:14 The Garbage Pail Kids -  Untitled Demo 00:50:37 Poivre Guatémaltèque - Stop The Tape 00:51:14 SRVTR -  Gbox39e 00:55:34 Koobaatoo Asparagus - Zoloft Experience 01:00:23 Josef Nadek - Where Their Worm Dieth Not, And The Fire Is Not Quenched 01:05:10 Mutilated Toypoodle  -Smiling Emoticon / Poodle Song 01:08:02 Scott Bazar - Bract L.S.D. Zone 01:12:47 IAIN - Trifon 01:15:56 - The Power Of Hot Iron Rodss -  Silence Hill 01:16:33 - The O'Brien Project - Spact! (Con Artist Reupholstering)

[thefreakydeaky]

Call Out My Name

Part Eight Title: The Town

Characters: Negan, Reader, A stupid little prick named Rick Grimes, Garbage pail kid Daryl Dixon, Tanya and Frankie.

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Canon Typical Violence, A bit of gore, Angst.

Word Count: 3000

With each step you took your stomach knotted tighter in dread of the big scary u.Dealing with the unknown had always been a problem for you. When something was unknown, you were stuck waiting around to find out and in that time you could not plan for it.Upon reaching the ground floor, you saw that all of the dock doors had been pulled down. Every exit locked and blocked.The hungry rasps of the dead filled you with dread.It sounded like you were surrounded. Your eyes darted nervously about the place, from the worn and teary faces of the scared inhabitants to the hard expressions worn by the invaders.

The pounding of heavy boot steps had you swiveling your head about to find the source.

“Don’t you think of tryin’ anything.” Darryl grated.

“Get down on your knees.” He ordered gruffly.

You and the other two girls knelt on the concrete floor, waiting.

You could hear someone approaching behind you.Your breathing quickened in horrible anticipation.

“Are these his...wives?” A deep voice, asked calmly. “Carl said there were five.”

“I looked all over. Found one dead and these three."

You closed your eyes, wondering briefly who it had been.Your stomach churned.You knew what would happen next.He would hit you.He would hit you and demand to know where Sherri and Amber were.You wouldn’t have an answer, except to say you hadn’t seen them in a couple of hours.

“We’re not here to hurt you.” The man’s gentle tone was reassuring. “We’re here to free you.”

“Where is number five?” He inquired.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the man, you couldn’t bare it.

Darryl put a hand on your shoulder and shoved you forward.

“Ask her.This one was leadin’ ‘em.”

A pair of worn leather work boots stopped in front of you.The man inhaled deeply as if to calm himself.

“Are you alright?”He seemed to actually mean it.

You clenched your jaw.

He reached out and brushed his knuckles along your cheek.

You stiffened, hardening your heart for what was to come.

He tipped your face up, his index finger just under your chin.

Your eyes met his clear blue gaze.

The gasp you emitted made Tanya and Frankie turn to look at you.

“Y/n?” He sounded as astonished as you felt, almost hoarse with the shock of this revelation.

His arms were around you and squeezing you in a warm embrace before you could fully process it.

“Oh,” He kissed the top of your head.“You’re alive!”A sigh of relief escaped his throat.

Your lower lip trembled, emotion overtaking you.

Home hadn’t come to mind in a long time.Hugging him, you were transported to a different stage of your life, a different society.

“She doesn’t understand.Much as I wanna be there,I have got to put work first.We talked about this when I joined the force.Lori agreed that she should stay home and take care of Carl, that I would provide for our family. These days, I cover a late shift for another officer, get home and she starts ripping me a new one. Says everytime I’m out late I been drinkin’ with Shane.She accuses me of any wrong thing a husband can do.You name it, according to Her, I’ve done it.”

You frowned a bit at that. Lori wasn’t the best person, but she certainly wasn’t the worst. Neither of you was really in a position to judge her. Not when you were sleeping with her husband.

“Well, I’m sorry that ya’ll are goin’ through a rough patch.”Your voice sounded dejected even to you.

He closed his eyes briefly, his expression contrite.

“I’m...I’m sorry.You shouldn’t have to hear all this.I don’t know what I was thinkin’.” He kissed the top of your head in apology.

You snuggled closer, your head on his bare chest and sighed.

“It’s okay with me for you to talk about your problems.Everybody needs to vent sometime.The thing is, I feel...bad.I feel like I’m part of the problem.”

“You’re not.” He said vehemently. “Lori started accusing me of havin’ an affair long before you and I ever...”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it, his guilt wouldn’t allow it. That sat well with you. It was the least either of you could do.Admit that this temptation you’d both given into wasn’t right.

“How much do we owe you for watchin’ Carl?” He inquired with a softness in his tone that made you melt inside.

“I can’t charge you not when we’re sleeping together.It would feel like-like-“

“I get it.” He ran his hand along your side tenderly. “But I’m gonna have to pay you anyway.”

You winced.Of course he did. She would notice if suddenly there was an extra $80 bucks in their account every week. He could hide the money, save it and use it for something. but that would be one more lie he had to tell Lori. So you accepted the money and put it all in your savings account. Guilt kept you from spending it and as it turned out,you had needed that money to get yourself out of Kentucky.It had gotten you as far as Richmond,Virginia when all hell broke loose. It was there you met Charlie and the gang...

“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” He murmured into your hair.

Darryl cleared his throat. “Are you forgetting somethin’?”

Rick looked to him questioningly.

“She’s married to a sociopath!”

“She’s...a friend” He hedged. “I know her. She would never willingly have married a man like Negan."

“I don’t care if she’s your damn aunt fanny! Her husband murdered Glenn and Abraham!” He growled and spit at your feet.

You jerked back at the insult.

“You’re not the only one that’s lost people to The Saviors.” Your voice shook as you spoke.You couldn’t bring yourself to say that it was Negan who killed Charlie.Negan had done terrible things, but he also made you feel wonderful things, now was not the time to reconcile the two.

“He killed my best friend. My co-leader,Charlie.” You told them.”He forced me to become a wife. You gestured toward Tanya.

“Her mom was terminally sick.She was suffering. He offered to get her some morphine if Tanya would become his wife.”

Rick was listening with wrapped attention, compassion in his gaze.

“Frankie,” You nodded toward the redhead. Her green eyes begged you not to tell.

You took a breath.

“She was attacked by a group of cruel and violent men. Negan and The Saviors, rescued her.The price for his help was marriage.” You hoped Amber had gotten far far away from the Sanctuary.

If your words were revealed to be untrue, you might all be killed. You had no doubt this, Darryl guy would have you strung up in a heartbeat. Quiet followed the sad tale.

“I believe you.” Rick said calmly. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

Your eyes filled with tears.Not because you agreed with his insinuation that your marriage to Negan was a form of torture you had undergone, but for all else you had endured since leaving Kentucky.

Darryl huffed loudly.

“What are we gonna do with Negan?” He ground out.

“Now’s not the time or place to discuss this.” Rick inclined his head, peering at Darryl over your shoulder.

“We’ll talk about it once we get them to Alexandria.”

“Fine.” The man responded.Though it didn’t sound as if he were fine with Rick’s decision at all.

Once we get them to Alexandria. He’d said.

Your heart leapt at the possibility that Rick’s them included Negan.

During the three month deliberation of Negan’s sentence, Hilltop’s Doctor Carson had informed you that your dizzy spells and drowsiness were actually pregnancy.You were elated at first, then heartbroken when you realized there was a huge chance your child would never meet it’s father.

It took pride shriveling amounts of begging and sweet talking your ex-boyfriend to get him on your side to save Negan’s life.Rick turned the majority of the council in your favor.Their final decision was that Negan would live.Your relief at hearing this was immense until you were told the terms on which his execution had been stayed.You would be delivering his sentence.

The rustling sound of soft soles walking across the dirty concrete floor reached Negan long before your tear stained face came into focus in the dim light.

“Negan.”

He kept his face blank.

“Y/n.” His voice sounded raspier to you than usual.

Your eyes scanned over him in the dark and caught on the white bandage set across his throat.

“I’m here to-“

“Do I look like I give a shit?” He glared over your shoulder at Darryl.”You people are ridiculous.Five women to choose from and you send the one I regret ever setting eyes on.Nice.”

You glanced over at Darryl.He looked supremely unimpressed.

“That isn’t true and you know it.” You wet your lips with your tongue.

“You get the fuck away from me right fucking now.”

You took a shaking breath and tried to hold back the tears.A sobbing emotional mess was the last thing either of you needed at the moment.

You held your wrists up where he could see the restraints the council demanded you wear at all times.

You felt sorry for him.This was going to hurt both of you immensely, but if you didn’t do as you’d been asked, he would be getting a hell of a lot worse than a life sentence.

He turned away from you, unable to bear the sight.

“You’re wasting your fucking time.I am not fucking talking to you.”

“You don’t have to say anything, just listen.” You inhaled slowly and held it, to steady yourself for the pain to come.

“I’m not married to you.I wasn’t ever married to you.You manipulated, scared, and threatened me into submitting to you.”

He stiffened.

“You are a power hungry, sociopath who took advantage of my weakness and the weaknesses of many others-“

“Weakness? You?” He scoffed.

“-you brain washed us like some kinda deranged cult leader.I don’t love you.I never loved you and neither did any of the other wives.”You spat the word at him.

He laughed bitterly.

“I did what had to be done to keep all of you alive, if that makes me the fucking bad guy then fuck it.”

“Don’t you dare laugh!”You cried glaring at his back. "Do you have any idea how many people had to die because of you?Do you have any remorse for the pain you’ve caused? The lives you’ve taken?”

He turned to look at you then. From Negan’s surprised expression, the tears streaming down your face must really be selling it.

“You know I don’t.”He frowned, uncertainty in his tone.

“I hate you!”

“Hate me? For what?” He huffed.

“For everything you took from me! For everything you did to me!”

“You sure seemed to like what I did to you. Used to beg me to keep doing those things to you...But don’t you worry, Baby. I’m sure you’ll be getting your retribution soon enough.”

He crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

You sniffed, choked down a sob and prepared for the grand finally.You stepped right up to the bars.Eyeing you wearily, he moved slowly towards you.

“Kiss me.” Your voice was a low whisper.

The reluctance in his gold flecked eyes unsettled you, made what was to come that much harder.

He leaned in and through the bars pressed his dry lips to yours. He closed his eyes, reveling in your proximity, the familiar intoxicating taste of you.You fought to keep still, to appear unaffected. It took him longer to realize that you weren’t participating, than you thought it would.

He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you, Y/n.” He declared, breathing harshly. “Don’t you forget it.”

You raised one eyebrow attempting to seem aloof.

“You have been sentenced to life imprisonment.You’ll have all the time in the world to reflect on the atrocities you committed.It’s a fitting punishment for what you’ve done. Wouldn’t you say?"

He smiled sadly.

“I would much rather die, but they know that, don’t they?”

“Mhmm..”

He held you as best he could.

“They don’t have any mercy to spare where I’m concerned...Why’d they send you to tell me?”He wondered out loud.

You pulled away, taking a few steps backwards, so he could see you fully.You placed your hands on your stomach in that soft maternal way, the sick fucks had told you to do.

His face fell.

“I’m expecting.”

“No, no no no no.”

“Oh yes...but don’t worry.My baby will have a father.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Do you remember those little chats we used to have?”

He nodded, hanging on your every word.

“I told you about the man I was seeing, the cop with the bright blue eyes...”

Negan shook his head in denial.

“Fate has brought him back into my life. Can you believe that? I mean what were the chances, that the man to take you down, would be the only man that I have ever loved, Rick Grimes?”

Negan dropped to his knees. His eyes were wide pools of vulnerability.

“Have a nice life. I know I will.” You turned away.

Darryl gave you a begrudging nod of approval on your way out.

You’d never hated yourself as much as you did in that moment.

[carnival-core]

Ok there are more important things NFT related to talk abt but I’m gonna talk abt the art style for the current ones instead bc I’m thinking abt them

I’m a staunch admirer of ugly art . Too many lines and more grotesque looks or whatever, I was the type who preferred garbage pail kids to squinkies or whatever so that’s like, what you’re dealing with from me

But even I think these are like . Hideous in a Bad way

But what makes me think it’s Bad ? Like even beyond the harm it does even just physically it’s bad . Like, I know the answer is “it’s soulless” but like

*What* about them makes me look at them and go “this lacks heart” . What makes me look at it and find it hard to imagine someone really did draw an insurmountable amount of assets to throw together even tho logistically someone had to draw it

What makes a piece of artwork feel . Empty ?

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.8 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Turns out that Stretch has a lunch date coming his way, who would've thought? He only had to be a hero and a victim, all in two minutes.

~~*~~

Read CH 8:‘ 3.14159 Day’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

When Stretch left the theater it was with a new collection of question to add to his mental drop box. He told Doris he’d see her tomorrow, promising her updates to the mystery if he managed to Velma his way to any clues. On his way out, he tossed their popcorn cups into the trash, his empty and hers full, and gave Igor a little wave as he went through the outer door.

Igor didn’t smile, but he did wave back and hey, there was another positive mark to his list, looked like Igor was advancing to the rank of ‘acquaintance’. That was good, he could use a few more friends in his shiny new collection.

The bright sunlight beaming down from overhead made him squint and Stretch headed back towards the store, his mind on starting the book Edge gave him. He was already mentally groaning at digging through some kind of dry history book, but if that’s where the answers were, welp, he better start shoveling.

Loud shouts and a clanking sound jarred him from his thoughts. Coming up the sidewalk was a small dog running flat out and Stretch could only stare in disbelief at what looked like a bunch of tin cans tied to the poor thing’s tail, like it just ran out of one of the old timey movies he’d been watching lately.

Behind it two boys were running after and jeering, clearly terrifying the animal more. Its tongue was lolling out, its mouth foamy with saliva, and its eyes showing whites around dark brown centers.

Yeah, this was getting handled, right fucking now.

A touch of blue magic would’ve made this easier to deal with and it was a damn shame Stretch couldn’t use it. Didn’t mean he couldn’t make do with what he had, and he didn’t even think. He flattened himself against the window of the ‘Secret Seconds Thrift Shop’ to let the dog run past and before the boys could follow, he stuck out his foot. One boy ran right into it and it sent his forward dash into a Nascar spinout right into his friend, sending both of them headfirst into the trash cans set at the corner with a loud crash and spilling out the remnants of a dozen or so greasy lunches from ‘Mama’s’.

Both of them struggled to their feet, slipping in mounds of garbage and their clothes stained in old coffee grounds and a revolting mixture of rotten food gone almost liquid in the summer heat. Even from a distance the stench made Stretch’s nonexistence stomach roll over with an unpleasant lurch.

The taller one swung around towards Stretch, his face twisting in fury, and his shorter friend didn’t look much happier. He didn’t recognize either of them from the store and that was when Stretch realized these guys were a helluva lot bigger and older than he’d previously thought; no kiddos here, they were either adults or close to it, and here they were, out tormenting little dogs on a hot summer day like this was a damned serial killer training day.

Stretch met that furious gaze head on and asked flatly, “what the fuck is wrong with you two?”

That glare only hardened and the guy sneered, showing teeth that were already graying with rot, yeesh, he’d gone out for a old timey movie and a mystery and instead he’d found a walking cliché from an 80’s high school flick, proof positive when he snarled, “You’re dead, city boy.”

“seriously? that’s a little over dramatic don’t you think?” Stretch took a healthy step back, hands held out defensively. Both of these guys looked like they meant it, coming towards him like a couple trash zombies with fists at the ready.

A quick glance around didn’t bring any allies into view. Even this early it was hot enough out that the sidewalks were empty, the actual town kiddos nowhere in sight. He could dodge into the thrift shop, but the proprietor, Magdalen May, was old enough that she probably used to babysit for Granny Collemore on the weekends. No way in hell he was dragging her into it, even if the old lady was pretty swift with a broom when the squirrels came out to investigate her sidewalk displays.

Nah, he was on his own for this, but even if it wasn’t two on one, if these guys were ready to throw down, Stretch wasn’t in any condition to pick it up. Not without his magic.

Stretch was still pretty light on his feet, though, and he took another step back, tensed in preparation to run his ass back down to the store, yowling like a fire engine all the way. Pride wasn’t much good when you were getting swept into a dustpan.

Turned out, he didn’t have to. The garbage pail twins weren’t even close when a voice came from behind.

“That’s enough.” Softly said and Stretch knew that voice, all roughly chopped dark chocolate and never had it sounded so delicious. He spared a second to look away from the approaching menaces to see Edge standing in the doorway to the library. He was leaning against the jamb, both arms crossed over his chest and a dark frown marring his handsome face.

Tall Trash Boy came to a halt, his scowl deepening. “Didn’t know you were in town, Edge.”

“And now you do.” Cold words that even the heat of the day couldn’t melt. Edge hooked a thumb down the sidewalk. “Both of you, get lost. Preferably downwind.”

The expected argument or threats didn’t come. They did as they were told and didn’t that bring up a few more question about Edge, hell yes, it did, the town troublemakers wary of the local library skeleton? The taller guy glared at Stretch as he walked past in a wall of stench, his fingers flexing as if they were itching to test a hypothesis on whether choking a skeleton was possible.

Great, now he had a nemesis, just the gift he’d never wanted. He’d have to add another section to his mental relationship spreadsheet.

It was probably a good thing it was Edge playing the shining knight to Stretch’s impromptu fairy tale act, his reputation had already taken a hit yesterday with the locals, what with the corny rescue. He didn’t know if he could take being saved by anyone else; at least Edge was already unimpressed by him.

Edge watched them go, never looking away until they were around the corner. Only then did he turn back to Stretch, “Are you all right?”

Stretch didn’t bother to answer, not yet. He was already giving those assholes a pass, heading over to where the little dog was cowering in the alley by the thrift shop. Big brown eyes looked up at him fearfully. “hey, boy,” he said softly. He held out a hand and waited patiently for the pup to hesitantly sniff his boney fingers, hopefully without sampling the merchandise. A whip-thin tail started to wag, stirring up dust and sending a jangle through the cans tied to it as a warm, wet tongue laved ticklishly over his hand. Stretch let out a soft laugh, gently scratching behind the floppy ears. “yeah, you’re okay. c’mere, let me help.”

The dog lay patiently while Stretch worked on the rope around its tail, only whining occasionally as Stretch struggled with the knots. They were painfully tight and it took a minute for Stretch to pick them loose, freeing the pup from its tin-can torment.

“There you go, buddy.” The second it was free, the dog scrambled to his feet, shaking vigorously and that furious tail wagging trebled. The pup licked Stretch’s face with sloppy appreciation, but he didn’t hang around. With a last messy lick, he turned and trotted off in the opposite direction as the trash boys, disappearing around a corner and out of Stretch’s life.

“that’s gratitude for you,” Stretch said aloud. He stood up and dusted off his shorts, then carried the string of cans over to the remaining trash cans that were still upright and tossed them in with a rattling clang. Edge watched him the whole time, sockets narrowed, and his expression was one that was coming up blanks in Stretch’s mental filter.

He winced internally. Getting into fights with the locals probably wasn’t gonna endear him to anyone in town.

“sorry about all that, didn’t mean to stir up trouble,” Stretch let out an unsteady laugh, shoes scuffing uncomfortably on the sidewalk. “they’re probably okay guys, right, boys will be boys, all that shit.”

But Edge shook his head. “No,” Edge said curtly, “Joey is a bully and he needs discipline. I’ll be speaking with his father. I’ve seen your HP, that was hardly an idle threat.”

Um, okay, there was a revealing tidbit that Stretch wasn’t the only one with his snooping shoes on. Someone was doing Checks from the sidelines. “then i guess my thank you for the save is canceled out by you being a nosy nancy.”

“I prefer snooping Sarah,” Edge said. He wandered over to toe at the trash cans with an expression of exquisite distaste and left them where they were. Seemed like his heroic tendencies didn’t extend to the municipal sanitation workers. Not that Stretch was volunteering to help with the cleanup either, no thanks, he was much more interested in watching the shift of Edge’s hips as he walked. Here they were with the temperatures climbing high into the red and this guy was walking around in a pair of nut hugger jeans that showcased the sleek line of his bones, a flash of his iliac crests peeking out slyly from under the hem of his black t-shirt.

Stretch didn’t do small talk so much as long, rambling soliloquies of random nonsense, but he could try when the need arose and right now, that need was climbing mountains because the fact of the matter was, he didn’t want Edge to leave yet. He wanted Edge to stay, wanted to hear him talking a little longer about anything, everything, so with all the eloquence Stretch could muster, he fumbled out, “so, uh, what are you doing in town today?”

Aw, yeah, he was Mister Swingle, all right. Next he’d be asking Edge to come over this weekend to play D & D in his mom’s basement.

Good thing that Edge didn’t seem too bothered by the lead up. He only shoved his hands into his pockets, and seriously, finding room for them in those jeans had to defy several laws of physics. “My roommate had a sudden urge for pie and insisted that only Mama’s would do,” Edge said sourly.

Interesting, another mention of the elusive roommate/local scarecrow animator. “okay,” Stretch said slowly, “if they wanted the pie, why didn’t they come with?” Would’ve saved Stretch from trying to narrow down their location for a visit.

“They can only come out at night.” Said without even a trace of irony.

Um, what? Stretch tried not to gape at him, with minimum success. “are you serious?”

“No,” Edge smirked, “But my brother mentioned your predilection for vampires.”

Oh, hil-arious, looked like both bothers had jokes. “woah, i’m not licking anything, prada or otherwise. can’t blame me for hedging my bets around here in the land of the cannibal corn.”

“I can assure you, there are no vampires in town.” He couldn’t help but notice Edge didn’t throw up any kind of defense for the corn’s innocence.

“in town,” Stretch repeated, doubtfully, “yeah, that’s real comforting, thanks.”

Edge only held out a hand. “Come on, you look like you’re about to melt in the heat and it’s Wednesday, Mama’s has a lunch special today.”

His surprise at what was very obviously a lunch invitation was tempered by pure shock that it was Edge offering it.

"really?” Stretch said, warily. He still took Edge’s hand, he wasn’t completely stupid, thanks. Edge was wearing gloves but there wasn’t time to mourn the lack of bone on bone action as his fingers curled around Stretch’s. “you eat at mama’s? red said you don't stay for the dinners you make because of your special diet."

Edge had started towards the diner and he paused, one brow bone arched, "Did he."

"i mean, not judging here,” Stretch added hastily, damn, what was with the self-sabotage, here, sure it was his MO, but at some point, you’d think he’d learn. If Blue were here, he’d be trying for a new world record in eye rolling. “the stuff you bring over is great. you vegan or something?”

"Or something. I’m sure what my brother is charmingly referring to is my preference not to layer cheese and mustard over every meal.” Edge tugged on his hand again and Stretch stumbled after, following him to the diner’s front door. “I find simpler recipes more satisfying so I can actually taste the food, but I believe a piece of pie is within my range. Particularly a slice of mama’s apple.”

Fair enough and Stretch was all about taking chances. May as well take this one.

Wednesdays at Mama’s was always special menu, something to help get a fella over the hump day according to the handwritten whiteboard at the entrance. Today was pie day and there were all sorts on order, from delectably savory to sugary sweet and a few in-between.

This was the first time Stretch actually sat down in the diner to eat. Usually he got takeout and pointedly ignored the fact that the short order cook was smoking a cigarette right at the grill, hey, the ash was dropping away from the fryer, it was fine. He’d get his burger and fries handed over in a grease-spotted paper bag, take it back to eat at the wobbly table in his room. That meal combo was great, crisp lettuce and tomatoes layered over a thick beef patty and the fries were greasy, salty perfection.

Turned out the pie was pretty damned good, too, brought over to their booth by Mama herself and someday he was gonna ask about the colorful mermaid tattoos that scrolled up both her burly forearms. Not today, he’d already gotten his fill of risk-my-life jollies, for now Stretch was sticking with pie.

But next time he got into trouble he was running in here to hide. Mama could probably kick both those guy’s asses without batting an eyelash while she was lighting the Marlboro clenched between her teeth.

Stretch got a piece of chicken biscuit pie, slathered in country gravy and Edge the aforementioned apple, a slice of crumbly cheddar cheese melting over the flaky crust.

Delicious as it was, he was having a hard time giving his pie a fair slice of his attention. They both had long legs and Stretch’s gangly knees kept bumping into Edge’s as they struggled to find a place to be. He tried a few times to move out of the way but even if his magic had been in top form, his ability to bend space/time had been limited to shortcuts, not leg room.

Another painful bump and Stretch squeaked aloud when Edge caught one of his feet firmly between both his own, the leather of his boots smooth and cool against his trapped ankle.

“Hold still,” he commanded and Stretch damn near snapped him a salute. Hold still, yessir, and Edge’s foothold eased…but it didn’t move. He sat there with Stretch’s foot held in gentle captivity between his own and all the holy little angels, if this was a reward from above for the dog rescue, Stretch would take it.

It was also a helluva distraction, making it hard for him to come up with some vaguely entertaining lunchtime chatter. Stretch’s normal attempts at flirtation were about as smooth as a cheese grater. Frankly, it was a wonder he’d ever persuaded anyone to go out with him, but he had a feeling his previous knock knock technique wasn’t gonna work here.

Edge didn’t wait for him to come up with a gambit. He only swallowed his latest bite of pie and said, “That was very brave of you.”

Stretch paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “what was?”

His thoughts on what might be wrong with the pie, (which certainly tasted delicious, ugh, please don’t let it be a soylent green kind of situation) vaporized when Edge said, “Helping that dog.”

Oh, that. Stretch only shrugged and dug back into the tasty, not-human pie. “anyone who isn’t a sociopath would’ve helped that dog.”

“I’m not so sure. Plenty of locals are wary of Joey and his sidekick. They might have gone to the Sheriff, but that wouldn’t have helped the dog in time.”

“locals, right. so lemme ask you something,” Stretch licked the tines of his fork, savoring the rich, buttery flavor, good thing he didn’t have any veins to clog. “you and red both talk like you’ve been here forever, but we’ve only been in the surface a few years. how long have you been in backwater, anyway?”

Edge took a sip of his coffee, because of course he ordered a hot beverage, geez, if this guy took a vacation to hell, he’d ask Satan to borrow a sweater. “We came almost the moment we arrived on the surface.”

Okay, yeah, he’d figured that out on his own, but it didn’t really clear much up. Stretch had questions, okay, he had a list, and he was looking for some answers. May as well try while Edge was being chatty. “where did you live in the underground? ‘cause my bro and i lived in snowdin, but i got around and i don’t remember even hearing about you two, much less added you to my gyftmas card list.”

He waited as Edge finished up his slice of pie. He ate with disturbing neatness, cutting precise little forkfuls of pie and eating each one, and took the time to wipe his mouth with a napkin before he said, “I’m afraid that’s complicated.”

“complicated,” Stretch repeated, slowly, disbelieving. Everything just had to be an ordeal, didn’t it. “complicated how? locations are not complicated, not like there was a lot of places to hide under the mountain. what, were you living in caves behind the waterfalls? down in the lava pits in hotland?”

“Something like that,” Edge said evasively. “We came to the surface with the Human who fell.”

And that tidbit made literally no sense at all. “wait, what? with chara?” Stretch didn’t really want to get thinking about the kid. He’d been something of a fun uncle for quite a while now and he missed getting to play that part. But there was no way that Edge was there when everything went down with the barrier breaking, that was purely impossible. “look, that was a real confusing time, i’ll admit, but i was there when we popped out of the mountain, with the Queen and everything. pretty sure i’d’ve remembered you hanging out in the backstage crew.” At the very least, he’d remember those hips.

To be fair, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard a Monster claiming to be there when it happened; everyone wanted their split-second of fame, hell, Napstaton did an hour special on it, complete with a dance number, he really did rock those heels. But Edge didn’t seem the type to go after a little fake glory.

“I’m sure you would have,” Edge agreed, and that was it, infuriatingly vague, and that made even less sense. If he was glory-hunting, he would’ve at least tried to come up with a backstory. Instead, he pushed his empty plate aside. “It doesn’t matter. The point is we decided not to stay in Ebott. I believe our journey resembles yours in that regard, only in our version, I was driving when we came to Backwater.”

“can’t you give a straight answer about anything?” Stretch asked, exasperated. Seriously, was it asking too much for something to not need pie charts and graphs and ghostly intervention to figure it out? Mama briefly interrupted by plunking a fresh plate down in front of Stretch, this time loaded with a little dessert in the form of blueberry pie, a melting scoop of vanilla ice cream oozing atop. She tore off the bill from her notepad and slapped it down, vanishing before Stretch could even thank her.

“It seems unlikely,” Edge admitted. “As to why we ended up here…” He trailed off, fingers drumming on the tabletop as Stretch took a syrup-soaked bite of pie. “Backwater is…” he hesitated again, so much weight resting on those words, “I believe that towns have a soul.”

Okay, not quite what Stretch was expecting; pie and heresy made for an interesting meal. “souls are for living things.”

“And towns are alive,” Edge countered. “They have a life given to them by the people who live there. Towns have their own dreams to fulfill, they change, they grow. And this town, on top of everything else, it seems to attract broken things.” He lowered his voice, so softly, “And you are broken, aren’t you.”

Stretch went still, his fingers clenching around his fork. Yeah, okay, getting a little personal there, and anyway, he wasn’t the mystery at hand, thanks, he’d like to keep it that way.

“broken? nah,” Stretch made a careless little scoff, “little bent, maybe—”

“Bent and battered,” Edge agreed, “but unbowed.”

“whatever,” Stretch grumbled. He took a large bite of pie, mumbling out through a mouthful of crust and berries, “i’ve been dedicating the past few weeks to repressing those memories, so can we not discuss?”

Only to nearly choke as Edge asked, “How long has your soul been damaged?”

His throat tried to clench around the mash of pie between his teeth, his magic grudgingly incorporating it as Stretch struggled to swallow it down. It was still fizzling at the back of his mouth as he rasped out, “what?”

Edge leaned in closer and sniffed deliberately, drawing in a hard breath through his nasal cavity. “You have soul damage. I can smell it and I know my brother could.” His sockets sank half-closed, hooding the crimson of his eye lights as he sniffed again, “It’s unmistakable, like scorched sugar layered over ammonia.”

What in the name of fuck…? How…? He’d never even heard of such a thing, so how…?

“i…i don’t…” The words clung to his tongue, refusing to be spoken. Stretch looked down, away from that intense gaze and focused on his pie. He squished a blueberry under the tines of his fork and watched dark juice bleed across the white plate, waiting for the panicked static in his mind to clear. A long, shaky breath of his own helped a little, inhaling the lingering heaviness of grease from the grill. Around them, other people were eating their pie, laughing and talking, and not paying a damn bit of attention to the way Stretch was trying not to break down, not here, not here, damn it. “awhile,” Stretch managed to mutter out, “that what you want to hear? anything else you want to know or maybe you can just kick me in the shins? or stab me in the eye socket, see, that’d work for me.”

Edge tilted his head and maybe he didn’t like what he saw, because he reached out and took Stretch’s hand in his own. That singular touch was stabilizing and Stretch latched onto it gratefully, let it steady him. “I know it’s painful,” Edge said, low, his thumb moving over Stretch’s knuckles in a gentle circle, “but I’m not trying to hurt you by discussing this. This place can be good for the soul. My brother knows that better than anyone. When we first arrived here, he was the one hurting and not just physically, his pains ran soul deep, the same as yours.”

Stretch managed a harsh chuckle. It came out raw, like a wound. “like recognizes like, i guess.” In his chest, his soul gave a pained little throb, like it knew they were discussing it. He resisted the urge to rub at his sternum; he already knew it wouldn’t help, the ache wasn’t in the bone, it was deeper, untouchable, and that was just the way he wanted his soul to be. Anyway, it wasn’t as bad as it’d been before, it was healing, just like the doc said it would. He only needed time and due to certain events, he had plenty of that now, in hearts and spades.

“That's why you're here, Stretch,” Edge told him, “It isn't about a breakup, that's incidental. It's about needing to heal. This place can be good for the soul, if you let it,” He offered a faint smile. “I still recommend leaving when you’re sufficiently healed.” Then abruptly, “Have you started on the book yet?”

Stretch latched onto the new topic gratefully, more than ready to stuff the soul crap into the back of his mind for about the next ten years, please and thank you. Better to wallow in a little sheepish guilt as he admitted, “uh, not yet, was kinda tired yesterday.”

He expected a dressing down, and not in the sexy way, but Edge only nodded. “I’m not surprised. Don’t put it off too long.” He let go of Stretch’s hand, barely giving him time to mourn as he stood and plucked the check from the table. “I need to get going, lunch is on me.” He nodded at Stretch’s plate. “Finish your pie.”

“thanks,” Stretch grumbled, but he took a bite. Even half-mangled it was delicious, tartly sweet, and he focused on finishing his pie and nothing else. Even watching Edge leave wasn’t doing it for him right now and maybe he’d regret not taking in the view later, but for right now, he didn’t want to think about anything at all.

He was scraping up the last berry-stained crumbs when a sudden shout made the entire diner jerk, everyone turning towards the door.

“You there!” Stretch blinked at the tall, stocky Human tromping towards him, pointing an accusing finger his way. He was in a uniform, his eyes concealed behind mirrored sunglasses, and there was a star pinned to his chest, shiny gold and emblazoned with the word, ‘Sheriff’. Not to mention the gun belt strapped around his broad middle. He came to a stop right next to Stretch’s table, fists propped up on his hips as he demanded, “You causin’ trouble here in my town?”

Stretch could only look up at him wide-socketed, with the taste of berries still sharp on his suddenly dry tongue.

Well, shit. Where was the rescue when he really needed one?

~~*~~

tbc

[bestassinthegalaxy]

All of the Even Numbers for the Uncommon HC Memes :3

Does your muse have any plants? If so, what kind?

Does Groot count? No? Okay.. then there's no plants. Mantis suggested they try to brighten the place up with some plants one time. The plant then proceed to try to eat them and almost took over the ship. Since that day, the only thing green and dangerous allowed on the ship has been Gamora.

Does your character like a bath or shower after a long day?

Shower. And yes, there has to be music.

How often does your character take time for themself?

As often as he can. Which probably isn't as often as he would like. Some days there's literally no getting away from anyone.

Are there any special self care rituals your muse has?

Already answered

Does your muse have any activities or hobbies they use to relax?

Already answered

If your muse had a video game console, what console would it be and what games would be on it?

Air Fortress on the NES. Full on retro The Last Starfighter kind of vibes.

What kind of posters or pictures are in your muses’ bedroom?

Pete doesn't have a bedroom, he has a bunk in what is now the very cramped sleeping quarters. There's a couple of Garbage Pail Kids cards stuck to the wall (he had them in his backpack when he was taken) and a few retro style decals he found when he first acquired the ship. Anything which remind him of home he's collected and used to decorate the space around his bunk.

What kind of books does your muse like to read?

As a kid Pete was obsessed with space and sci-fi, he read everything he could get his hands on. However books aren't much of a thing away from Terra, physical media is long since dead. Occasionally he can pick up old school comic books from specific planets, but they're getting increasingly difficult to find.

Does your muse put things in their water? If so, what do they put in there (fruits, ice, etc.)?

Anything to make it sweet as fuck.

What kind of pins/keychains do they have on their backpack, lanyard, jacket, etc.?

His old backpack has a selection of NASA pins and a Millennium Falcon keychain.

What was your muse’s second job?

Technically Pete's one and only "job" was being part of Yondu's Ravager crew. Being a Guardian of the Galaxy isn't a recognised job title (although neither is Ravager).

What kinds of videos on youtube or twitch would your muse watch?

He'd get pulled into the rabbit hole of nerdy shit and not escape for days. Some times it's fun to watch alien conspiracy theorist videos, because those dudes COULD NOT BE MORE WRONG!

Does your muse have any collections? What are they of?

He collected so many things when he was a kid. Bubblegum cards, comics, anything related to NASA, or Star Wars. Some of that stuff would be worth a freaking fortune now..

If you had to make a Dungeons and Dragons version of your muse, what would their stats and class be?

Aw don't make me roll stats at 2 am.. I'll come back to this later, I swear.

What were your muse’s childhood friends like?

Pete only had a couple of friends at school. They liked the same stuff, which was kind of nerdy. It wasn't the kind of stuff which made kids popular. This, added to Peter's habit of standing up to bullies who were much bigger than him, meant he got beat up a lot.

Does your muse journal, have a diary, bullet journal, etc.?

Nope. Not even as a kid.