#dying for the sins of will graham

[mismatchsocks]

we gotta kill hannibal lecter

[aug3nd]

⸺ ⟳ # 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝟑𝐍𝐃 ⋯ a   study  in  a  hymn  sung  in  screams,  a  requiem  carved  into  the  marrow  of  your  bones.  Survival  where  survival  was  never  meant  to  be,  where  every  breath  is  a  borrowed  thing  and  every  scar  tells  a  story  you  never  wanted  to  remember.  Birth into  ruin,  baptized  in  blood,  shaped  by  hands  that  should  have  held  you  close  but  instead  led  you  to  the  altar.  Faith  twisted  into  a  noose,  devotion  turned  to  decay.  The  ones  who  gave  you  life  offering  you  up  to  the  abyss,  whispering  promises  of  eternity  as  the  poison  took  their  breath,  as  their  bodies  folded  like  dying  stars.  And  you,  the  one  meant  to  follow,  left  among  the  corpses  —  a  girl  unchosen,  abandoned  even  by  death.

Learning  that  hope  is  a  fragile  thing,  a  sandcastle  crumbling  before  the  tide.  That  love,  once  given,  is  a  blade  pressed  to  the  throat.  That  sometimes,  the  ones  who  should  save  you  are  the  ones  who  let  you  drown,   pouring  your  rage  into  guitars  strung  too  tight,  microphones  kissed  by  the  tremble  of  a  voice  that  refused  to  die.  Dressed  in  defiance,  stitching  your  pain  into  rebellion,  let  the  world  mistake  your  recklessness  for  strength.  The  quiet  despair,  that  endless  gray,  a  specter  trailing  steps.

Presently stationed at @helltownfms. Kindly refrain from further interaction unless aligned with the aforementioned group. Created and overseen by rei.

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬, 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗘𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡.

⸻lily-rose depp, twenty-five, cis-female, she / her ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of MORRIGAN "MORGUE" SILVER. they are TWENTY-SIX, and have been missing for ONE MONTH IN ARCADIA. when the sun rises, they work as UNDECIDED / FORMER ROCK STAR. rumors in town say they can be ADDICTIVE and MAGNETIC. they chose to live in THE SETTLEMENT, and have an uncanny resemblance to Mia Wallace ( Pulp Fiction ), Nancy Downs ( The Craft ), Jesse Custer ( Preacher ), Emily "Junkie" Kaye ( The Heroin Diaries ), Selena Kyle ( Batman ), Peter Graham ( Hereditary ). can they survive another night ?…⸻ a specter of sound and sin, stitched together from cigarette smoke, stage lights, and the echoes of a scream that never quite left her throat; Smudged kohl eyes that hold the weight of forgotten prayers, lips split between a sneer and a plea, the rasp of her voice dragging like a blade against soft skin; Chaos draping itself over her like a second skin — fishnets torn at the knee, a crucifix swinging loose over bruised ribs, the scent of whiskey and regret lingering in the fabric of her existence.

INQUIRIES ;

How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?

You were supposed to be dead long before that night.

Maybe the first time should have been in that house of corpses, staring into the glazed-over eyes of the people who called themselves your family, their mouths frozen mid-prayer, their hands clasped in reverence as death claimed them. Or maybe in that motel bathroom, needle still lodged in your arm, staring at your own reflection like a specter waiting to fade. You’d lost count of the times you should have slipped through the cracks, how many nights you’d tempted the abyss just to see if it would bite back. And yet, there you were again. Somewhere between the world of the living and the dead.

The last thing you remembered was the rush of fluorescent lights overhead, the ambulance doors rattling in their hinges, voices too far away to belong to you. Hands pressing against your ribs, forcing breath back into your lungs, dragging you — kicking, screaming — out of the void. You hadn’t wanted to come back. Not really. But something always pulled you back from the edge, something cruel, something stubborn, something that refused to let you rest. The confusion came next. A blur of movement, voices pitched in panic, the sound of metal groaning, tires skidding against gravel. And then — nothing.

Blackness.

You thought you were dreaming. Thought maybe the overdose had finally done its job, that this was just another fevered hallucination, another unraveling of a mind too far gone. When the howls came — deep, guttural, hungry — you thought they were echoes from your past, the ghosts you never quite managed to outrun. You told yourself this isn’t real, told yourself it was just the drugs still playing tricks on your system. But when you woke, the nightmare hadn’t ended. Morning bled through the blinds of the clinic, carving sharp angles across the room, white walls too clean, too sterile, too still. A voice drifted in and out, saying things you weren’t ready to hear — you can’t leave, you’re stuck, this is your new reality. You sat there, silent, limbs draped over the too-thin mattress, the weight of it pressing against your chest like a curse. You didn’t belong here. Not in a town that wasn’t on any map, not in some purgatory where the rules bent and monsters howled in the dark. But the way they looked at you, the way they explained the rules with tired eyes and voices dulled by too many repetitions, made it clear — this wasn’t a joke, this wasn’t a nightmare you could sweat out.

And yet, shock didn’t break you. Because nothing ever did.

Or maybe it was the pills dissolving in your bloodstream, the ones you swiped from the cabinet when no one was looking, their bitter taste a familiar comfort against the ache creeping in. You weren’t ready to feel — not yet. So you let the drugs wrap their arms around you, let them dull the edges, keep you floating just above the surface of it all. You didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Didn’t beg for answers like the others probably did when they first arrived. You just sat there, tapping your fingers against the mattress like you were keeping time to a song only you could hear. Outside, the wind howled, and for the first time since waking up, you let yourself wonder if it was calling for you.

Because if there was one thing you knew for sure — the dark always came back for what belonged to it.

Why did your muse choose to live where they do?

You chose the Settlement, though you wouldn’t call it home. There was something about it — the way the people moved, the way they spoke in murmurs thick with reverence, the way their hands curled in prayer beneath the shadow of that tree. It should have unsettled you. Maybe, at first, it did. The whispers, the blind devotion, the eerie hush that settled over the town when night fell.

But it wasn’t unfamiliar. Not to someone like you.

You had been raised under the weight of rituals, your childhood steeped in bloodstained doctrine and candlelit invocations, the air thick with incense and whispered oaths to something unseen. Your parents had worshiped, bowed, offered themselves up as sacrifices — and when their time came, when their bodies collapsed to the floor like puppets with cut strings, they had expected you to follow. You didn’t. Maybe that’s why you were still here. And maybe that’s why the Settlement felt like the only place that made sense. You understood these people. They believed in something bigger than themselves, something that held power over life and death, something that could give and take with the tilt of its unseen hand. They feared it, loved it, bled for it in equal measure.

You understood what it meant to exist under the thumb of something greater, something unknowable. And so, you stayed. Not because you believed. Not because you wanted to be one of them. But because — for the first time in a long time, something was calling you back. And this time, you were listening.

What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?

You were dying in the back of the ambulance you came in on. The world had collapsed into a tunnel of flashing red lights, the siren a distant wail swallowed by the fog. Someone had been pressing against your chest, calling your name like it belonged to you, like it was something you should fight for. You remembered the sting of the needle, the rush of cold spreading through your veins as they tried to keep you tethered. But you had already been slipping. Slipping into something deeper. Something darker. The world outside the window was wrong — twisting, unraveling, the road curving where it shouldn’t. You thought it was the drugs. Thought maybe you had finally done it, finally tipped over the edge you’d been dancing on your whole damn life.

And then — impact.

The metal screamed. The world spun. A final breath punched from your lungs, and then — stillness. You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious. Minutes? Hours? Maybe you had never woken up at all. The back doors of the ambulance had been torn open, the stretcher tipped, IV lines still hanging like veins cut loose from a body that had been left behind. The paramedics were gone. The road? Gone. Nothing but trees. Nothing but mist curling through the branches, swallowing the last fragments of the world you used to know. And in the center of it all — the Tree.

It stood before you, ancient and gnarled, roots splitting the earth like veins, its branches stretching impossibly wide, dark, endless. The air around it pulsed, thick with something you couldn’t name, something that sank into your skin and pressed cold fingers against the inside of your skull. You should have run. Should have turned back, screamed, clawed your way away from whatever the hell this was. But you didn’t. You stumbled forward, bare feet dragging across the dirt, a weight in your chest that wasn’t entirely your own. It was calling to you. Not with words, not with sound, but with something deeper — something stitched into the marrow of your bones, something that had been waiting for you long before you ever set foot on this cursed ground. The Tree had seen you. And it knew you. You reached out, fingers brushing the rough bark —

And in that moment, you saw everything. Not in flashes, not in glimpses, but all at once. Blood in the dirt, soaking deep, feeding the roots. Faces carved from shadow, watching, waiting. The screams of those who came before you, the ones who tried to leave, the ones who never did. The cycle, the suffering, the way the town bent and twisted itself around this one, single point.

And at the very center of it all, yourself. Not as you were. Not as you had been. But as something else entirely. The past, the present, the nightmares clawing at the edges of your consciousness — it was all there. And for a single, terrible moment, you understood. Then the Tree let you go.

Your body collapsed to the dirt, the world spinning back into place, and when you gasped awake, the town was waiting. Your life before this? It had been borrowed time. And now, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?

You left behind ashes and echoes, but nothing that would mourn you. No lovers tangled in the sheets of your absence. No family waiting by a phone that would never ring. No home beyond the motels and green rooms where you spent your nights, the places where you drowned in music, in vices, in the kind of oblivion that tasted like freedom but felt like chains. What was there to return to? A band that had already started to forget you, their lives moving forward while yours remained caught in the wreckage. A name scrawled in neon, flickering and dim, in venues where your voice once shook the walls. Unfinished songs, half-written lyrics smeared across hotel napkins and drugstore receipts — verses that bled with confessions you weren’t sober enough to say out loud.

You were always running. Running from the cold grip of the past, from the ghosts that sat heavy on your chest when the high wore off, from the memory of your mother’s vacant eyes staring back at you across a circle of corpses. Running from the fact that you were supposed to be one of them. You never asked to be saved.

Not when the paramedics pulled you from the brink, not when your body seized and your veins burned from overdose, not when you woke up in the back of that ambulance with another shot at a life you weren’t sure you wanted. And now, here you were. Not dead, but not alive. Stuck. Yet even in this godforsaken place, with its haunted streets and whispering trees, the past had its claws in you. You could still hear it calling, like the distant hum of an old song bleeding through static, a melody that only you could recognize. Maybe that’s why you kept a pack of matches in your pocket, half-used, the scent of sulfur still clinging to the tips of your fingers. Maybe that’s why you ran your fingers over the scars on your arms like a blind woman tracing a map to somewhere she was never meant to go. Maybe that’s why, sometimes before nightfall, you stood at the edge of the forest and listened — just listened — to the way the dark seemed to breathe, to the way it felt like something familiar watching you back. Because no matter how far you ran, there was something left unfinished. And whatever it was, whatever still tethered you to the life you tried to burn away — it wasn’t done with you yet.

[eljackinton]

Elegy for a Dying Industry

By the time I'd hit my third year of university I was certain I wanted to be a comic book writer.

It's hard to put into words just how vibrant that land of opportunity looked back then, in 2007. Marvel and DC had bounced back from their near death in the 1990s, with DC's spin off Vertigo leading the way with a tidal wave of adult focussed titles, while Image comics was quickly rising to become an ascendant third party in the previous binary landscape.

Walk into any comic book shop at that time and you'd see shelves filled with literary mainstays. Preacher and Sandman were always in stock. Recent series like Fables and Y: The Last Man would be seeing new volumes every six months. Older titles and obscure series that hadn't been seen in years were getting new print runs. Image itself was willing to take a punt at putting out any number of odd and offbeat titles. Girls. Savage Dragon. Army @ Love. Works like Jack Staff and Strangehaven that had struggled in obscurity for years were finally finding an audience.

Outside the printed page, others were thriving too. Webcomics had become big business, growing fandoms such that they could rival their printed competitors, and it wouldn't be long until Penny Arcade and Gunnerkrigg Court would find themselves sharing shelf space with Superman and Dick Tracy. On the big screen, Sin City had captivated audiences and brought the comic that inspired it a whole new readership, while a big screen adaption of Watchmen was purported to be right around the corner.

The way I saw it, I'd spend my twenties working the small press, making connections before breaking in some time in my thirties, giving me the rest of my life to put together my magnum opus.

What actually happened was I spent a decade dealing with depression, unemployment, a pandemic and an environment of constantly unstable social media sites that scuppered my ability to build a following. Even with that aside though, I discovered that I had severely underestimated how much work it would actually take to get my foot in the door. Now, on the eve of my first time exhibiting at the prestigious Though Bubble convention, I look at the comic book industry and see what looks like an unscaleable wall.

In the run up to Thought Bubble, I messaged Joe Glass, writer and creator of The Pride, to find out if he'd be exhibiting at his usual table there this year. What he told me was that he was basically ready to throw in the towel. Sales were down. Interest was down. He figured he'd have a better chance in the world of literature, and who can blame him to come to that conclusion?

To me, Joe Glass was a known guy. Someone who had been around in comics for a long time. The Pride was constantly praised, as well as considered a landmark in the history of LGBTQ comics. Damn, I thought, if he's struggling to make it, what chance on Earth do I have?

Another anecdote. I was at New York Comic Con in 2011. I sat in on the Image Comics panel where they announced a rebooted run of comics starring characters from Rob Liefeld's Extreme Comics line. (Rob actually got boos from the audience when he came out, which, however you feel about the man, was pretty disrespectful, and now looks like a grim foreshadowing to the state that online comics discourse was heading towards.)

One of the titles announced was Prophet, written by Brandon Graham and illustrated by Simon Roy. The series was met with great acclaim, and praised as one of the best comics coming out at the time. It was Roy's art in particular that was singled out as one of the comic's greatest strengths. There was a sense that Roy had really made a name for himself with Prophet, and that he would ride the wave to mainstream success.

After several years of his work showing up in places as varied as 2000ad and the Halo comics, Roy would go on to create Habitat in 2016 and First Knife in 2020, which should have gotten a bigger readership than they did. The comics were very clearly passion projects, yet didn't really get the promotion, coverage, or widespread release they deserved. It was very clear that there was more to these fictional worlds that Roy wanted to explore, but in the end, it took self publishing to do it. He started a follow up, Griz Grobus, as a webcomic, crowdfunding the physical release, before it was eventually picked up by Image again for a retail market.

It's not that I think Roy feels he got the short end of the stick. He's gone on record about how satisfied he is with the stories he gets to tell, but I look at what the world was like back in 2007 and I think about how by all rights his "Grobusverse," should be a household name, with an animated series and several video games by now.

Just like Joe Glass, whose recent The Miracles I believe could have been this generation's Invincible, I can't help but feel like modern comics, far from cultivating new and exciting talent, is doing nothing but stifling it.

How did it come to this?

It happened in multiple fronts, but the most critical blow came from corporate consolidation of the internet. At the turn of the decade, comic book journalism was bright eyed, popular and vibrant. Comic Book Resources and Comics Alliance both were constantly shining a light on new talent, new stories, as well as branching out towards exploration and analysis of the medium as a whole. I remember Comics Alliance once doing a special "Sex Week" where they released seven days worth of articles exploring the subgenre of erotic comic books.

Such an idea seems unthinkable now, in an age where sites are forbidden from straying from safe, corporate sanitisation. Indeed, both CBR and CA would find themselves stripped of identity and ground to the bone as they were bought out, sold, and bought out again by larger and larger conglomerates. Now CBR is little more than a platform for big industry press releases, while CA has been repurposed as a news aggregate site, the cruellest of fates. Just visiting the site feels like you're looking at a killer wearing the skin of it's victim.

The second blow to comics came from, and I hate to say it, Hollywood. With the booming, relentless success of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, many assumed that the comic book industry's ascent to becoming a dominant cultural force was assured. However, in this instance, the rising tide did not lift all boats. As surprising as it is to hear, sales of Marvel comics have not significantly increased since the MCU came onto the scene in 2008. Despite becoming one of the most profitable franchises in history, audiences have not been particularly motivated when it comes to exploring the source material that their favourite films originated from.

And yet, even though the comic book industry has gotten little from Hollywood's success, more and more of their territory and space has been ceded to it. While comic book conventions have always involved partial coverage of film and TV, they have, at their heart, always been COMIC BOOK conventions. You'd get a ticket, head down, meet some writers, watch some announcements of what the next big events comics were going to be, check out some shoe boxes of back issues, sit in the Batmobile and maybe go get Lou Ferrigno's signature.

Now, so much of the floor space at the big conventions have been given over to Hollywood, and only Hollywood. News coverage out of SDCC or NYCC is almost always "Here's what film is coming next. Here's there cast of xyz. Here's some stuff about video games." The heart of the cons, what made them what they are in the first place, is getting pushed further and further aside. Now visitors get their ticket and shove their way though to Hall H to find out that RTD is back to play Doctor Doom, before they put on VR goggles to play the next Call of Duty game and then spend the rest of the money they have on Funkos or ten foot tall Pokémon plushies. If the mood arises, they might consider taking a glance at a self published comic book while they queue for an hour for Lou Ferrigno's signature.

Finally, the coup de grace was delivered by the deadening of online spaces. As we spent a decade migrating from our enthusiast forums over to the shared spaces of Twitter and Instagram we were forced to tailor our output to the broadest audience possible. We were forced to become our own marketers. Our own brand managers. The work could no longer speak for itself, because how on Earth was it possible for people to even find the work?

Yet despite all that, the algorithm crushed us anyway. Flighty and unknowable, as though some kind of special combination of words and images will chart the path to success, writers and artists were left like passengers on a sinking ship, drowning and desperate, stepping on top of each other in just the hopes of staying above water for one more moment.

When I was in a newly opened comic book shop in Chester I picked up a copy of Local Man by Tony Fleecs and Tim Seeley, on a whim. I had frankly never heard of it. I was astounded at how good it was when I had read it, but what stood out to me more was how it needn't have been this way. This is the kind of comic where once upon a time talk of it would have been everywhere. It's the kind of thing Comics Alliance would have been writing think pieces on for like a month. Now, however, it passed completely under the radar.

Where do we even start to solve a problem like this? Corporate media is now more powerful than ever, and social media dominates. If we are to start anywhere, it's got to be with each other. Writers, artists, colourists and letterers are going to have to come together and rebuild things wholesale. Personally, I honestly think we need to see a comics media landscape that's run by creators for creators. An independent, co-owned media that isn't going to sell out to conglomerates or Hollywood. We need a resurgence in sites like Comics Alliance, we need podcasts that garner a strong audience, we need video sites like Nebula that can stand in contrast to YouTube's dominance.

In the end though I'm just some guy, who has yet to even get his foot in the door. Best I can do is speak it, and try and will it into being. Casting out a message in a bottle in the hopes that somebody will find it. There are people like me all over the world with art to create and stories to tell. The next Hellboy, Invincible or Gunnerkrigg Court is out there right now and it's drowning on that sinking ship. If all I can do is shout the alarm in people's face, like Diogenes screaming from his barrel, then hell, that's what I'll keep doing.

Though if you are at Thought Bubble next weekend please consider buying some of my comics, books or artworks. That would be appreciated.

Addendum

Some comics you should check out:

The Miracles by Joe Glass and Vince Underwood

Habitat by Simon Roy (and then read the rest of his Grobusverse comics)

Local Man by Tony Fleecs and Tim Seeley

Strangehaven by Gary Spencer Millidge

O Sarilho by Shizamura

Prism Stalker by Sloane Leong

----------------------------------------------------------

Jack Harvey 2024

[ouatsnark]

I'm just gonna be in your message box 24/7 here's more content. another post saying all hook does it commit atrocities against the charmings (i.e. killing david's father, though that plot was kinda stupid and created unecessary drama) never apologizes, and does the bare minimum to make up for it and shouldn't deserve the forgiveness they give him but then that user turns around and stans zelena and regina....2 people who have committed WORSE against the charmings, make it make sense????

I can't make it make sense because this is just another example of fandom hypocrisy and double standards. Regina is allowed to get away with everything because that is what the show taught her fans and they gobble it down without question. They've turned Regina into this ultimate victim so they can wash away her sins when in reality she was the ultimate villain and Killian Jones had a worse childhood than she did.

The only thing KILLIAN JONES did to the Charmings was kill David's father and he didn't even know until years after meeting the Charmings that it was David's father. So this act wasn't targeted against the Charmings. And what did he do? He felt remorse, shame, guilt and he apologized. Hell, Killian sacrificed himself and let himself be tortured because he was guilty over what he'd done while CURSED WITH DARKNESS. So this lie that Killian has committed atrocities against the Charmings and done the bare minimum is bull shit. Torture is not the bare minimum. Dying is not the bare minimum. HE DIED. Hello. That's the greatest sacrifice you can make.

Regina purposefully murdered Snow's father and she doesn't care. Regina doesn't even care that she ruined Emma's childhood, ruined the Charmings chances of being parents to Emma, tortured Snow's people, took everything from her and she doesn't care that she tried to murder them several times in Storybook and took Graham from Emma. This was targeted against the Charmings. And she was never cursed with darkness. In fact, Regina admits she doesn't regret anything of what she did because it got her what she wanted! It is actually REGINA who did the bare minimum and was allowed to pal around with her victims while they catered to her every need and she continued to be a snarky bully. Regina didn't die for them. Regina didn't let herself be tortured to protect them. In fact, she let the Charmings sacrifice for her AGAIN in Season 6!

The Charmings forgave Regina right after attempting to murder them and right after Regina admits she doesn't regret what she did to them. Make THAT make sense, please. It blows my mind, honestly. Because it is quite clear that the only reasons she's doing what she's doing is to get what she wants and not because she cares about them. And because the show wanted a redeemed evil queen without losing the evil queen... it was stupid to those of us that have brains.

It took the Charmings 3 seasons to trust Killian which was absolutely idiotic once they saw him die and be tortured for them. And again, he did not commit worse atrocities than Regina. So this idea that Killian was easily forgiven is hogwash. Regina was easily forgiven.

I actually have no beef with Zelena because at least the show didn't parade her around as a hero while simply telling the audience that she was redeemed like they did with Regina. They literally just said "ok Regina is good now because she wants to be Henry's mother but we're not going to mention all of the child abuse he just really trusts her now and so does everyone else k?"

But it is ridiculous to hold things against Killian when your faves have done so much worse. At least Killian has showed remorse, apologized and actually sacrificed for them. Regina did squat. Hell, Zelena did more than Regina when Zelena gave up her magic!

[ripgray-moved]

hazbin headcanons fuck it idc lmao

peter's very existence in hell is an impossibility— both because he was never 'destined' to wind up there ( his worst sin is smoking weed when he was a teen, dude, idk what to tell you ) and because he's a human soul. without paimon's connection sustaining him, he would absolutely perish. this domain isn't meant to house him at all. it's his keeper's status and power that keeps him alive, something that paimon routinely holds over his head when peter threatens to leave or hurt himself.

peter's entire character arc is that he's the """pathetic""" human surrounded by powerful demons, and it's kinda haahaa heehee. however, peter does wind up dying in this verse because he tries to protect one of his friends from the hotel OR muse b ( i've left it open for the sake of roleplaying, if my partner would like to be the one he gives his life for; if not, i'd just choose an npc that makes sense ), and because he was a human soul so hasn't even died once yet, he returns to hell as an honest-to-satan demon. his connection to paimon ultimately keeps him hellbound, despite his heroic actions ( and the fact that he should never have gone to hell in the first place ). paimon also influences his transformation when he becomes a demon; he gains some bird features, including wings and a tail that sprouts feathers. his hair also becomes fluffier, mimicking feathers and a crest that he can emote with, as well as some plumage around his neck/chest. taloned fingers and toes.

he also becomes uber powerful because of his connection to paimon, though this power is not immediately accessible. he has to 'train it', given that before this, he was a human with NO knowledge on 'magic' or the supernatural. like...... he's kinda overlord potential, but i don't know if he'd go that far? i don't see what he has to gain from being so ruthless, though maybe his rage can come into play...

bonds with rosie! he deserves a 'mother' figure, and he finds some solace in cannibal town because of their appreciation for music. this really allows peter to get back into performing; up until now he's been too scared to because an annoyed crowd is one thing to a demon, but to a human? yeahhhhhhh, no thanks— i also KNOW it becomes a running gag that he's. a human. with human flesh. in cannibal town. so in a show context? there're just screenshots/clips of him slowly stepping away from cannibals just standing really close and sniffing him. he pulls his shirt out of one's mouth at one point, i know this for a fact. never gets munched on, though! and when he returns as a bird-freak, cannibal town is preeeeeeeetty excited about it.

in terms of the hotel, because he's placed there for 'safekeeping' by paimon ( he's essentially hoarding the body that he'll use to disguise himself on earth, saving it for when it's relevant to obscure himself ), he does a lot of misc. tasks, helping out with whatever's relevant to do in the moment. he often cooks for the residents! that's one thing he can carry over from earth!

tl;dr: peter graham is TRYING HIS FUCKING BEST, bro—

[carolap53]

The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.

-- 1 John 3:8

How would it impact your life to know that Satan is a defeated foe? Well, he is defeated! But you can be sure that the devil doesn’t want you to know it. And he’s not just defeated in the future; he’s defeated right now! You and I know this because of what Jesus did on the cross.

Now listen closely. There’s something important you need to understand about Jesus’ death on the cross. Jesus wasn’t a victim of Satan; he went to the cross willingly. And Satan was not just running around doing whatever he wanted. God allowed Satan to put crucifixion in the hearts and minds of men in order to fulfill the plan of salvation.

And so, as Jesus was dying and cried out, "It is finished!" Satan thought, "Ha! He’s the one who’s finished.” And hell and its minions had a holiday. But three days later, the earth rumbled, the stone rolled away, and Jesus was raised from the dead!

The gap between a Holy God and sinful man was forever bridged through the blood of Jesus. Satan is defeated and victory is yours!

Now, Satan wants you to believe, "You're a sinner and you deserve hell!"

But God says, "You are mine. You are saved by the blood of the Lamb. You deserve heaven!"

SATAN IS DEFEATED AND VICTORY IS YOURS!

Jack Graham

[shammah8]

Learning from Death

There is a time for everything… a time to be born and a time to die.

ECCLESIASTES 3:1–2

Have you ever watched a loved one struggle with pain, growing disability, and even approaching death? Perhaps you asked yourself: “Why doesn’t God just let her die?”

I don’t have a complete answer for you. We live in a fallen, sin-scarred world, and much of what happens falls far short of God’s original plan.

But I do know this. Even when we can’t understand why God allows things like this to happen, He still can be trusted to do what is right. God is sovereign, and He knows what is best—for you, for the person who is suffering, and for all those affected by their suffering. In God’s time, He will take the suffering saint to be with Him.

When someone is suffering or dying, we should ask God to teach us whatever lessons He has for us in this experience. Sometimes, I believe, God allows a loved one to linger because family members need to come together and be reconciled to one another. God also may use situations like this to teach us how to love others who are in need, and to remind us of the brevity of life.☕️B GRAHAM

[imspardagus]

Brimstone

Image courtesy of The Guardian

As Alan, Ron and I approached the door

Two Brimstone butterflies were brightly dancing.

So out of place. I thought was this a chance thing?

A common sight in meadow or on moor

But here in Basingstoke, at All Saints church?

A sight that made my tired and sad heart lurch

I tried to shed the possibility.

All that occurs has reason if you press

But superstition wants for something less.

I’d pitched my camp on rationality

Yet here’s my heart insisting it’s a sign,

These flitting yellow messengers divine

We’re taught to think of brimstone as God’s wrath,

His anger at the sin of unbelief,

But these two circling angels stemmed my grief

As they paid courtship on the old stone path

And, lifting off the sadness of the day,

They pricked my pompous gloom, blew it away. 

Oh, Graham, you and I had walked so far

We’d strode the hills and glens, the moors and sands

I’d found redemption in your gentle hands

Then watched you dwindle like a dying star

I came today to say a last goodbye

And met instead the Brimstone butterfly.

Now in my mind you’re here again, not lost

On this March morning dancing in the sun

Insisting life’s not over, it’s begun

Just open up your heart and let it trust

I feel it now and hopefulness returns

My heart was stone but now a stone that burns.

RIP Graham Osborne, a Good Man.

Iain M Spardagus, 26 March 2024

[infraredmag]

OUR DYING WORLD Put A Cinematic Spin On Melodic Death Metal With “The Egregious Sins Of Humanity”

NEWS RELEASE Montreal, QC – June 12, 2023 ​   OUR DYING WORLD Put A Cinematic Spin On Melodic Death Metal With “The Egregious Sins Of Humanity” L to R – Nick Laux – Bass, Graham Southern – Keyboards and Orchestration, Austin Mitrofanis – Guitar, Tom Tierney – Drums, David Ainsworth – Vocals, Ray Sanchez – Guitar Credit – Jamie Kaufman Photography ​ Los Angeles’ Our Dying World is…

[jdgo51]

Where Is Jesus? The Foot of the Empty Cross

Today's inspiration comes from

The Reason for My Hope

by Billy Graham

"Nor is there salvation in any other, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved." — Acts 4:12

"'What is the ultimate victory of the cross? That it could not hold the Savior of the world, who triumphed over sin and death, winning salvation for mankind. The resurrection story of Jesus Christ is what gives meaning and power to the cross. What a failure Christianity would be if it could not carry our hopes beyond the coldness and depths of the grave. You see, the resurrection means the salvation of our souls.

What does the resurrection mean to you? Many have never thought about it. Some believe that Jesus died leaving a legacy of “Do good to your neighbor,” never believing that He was raised from the dead. Others think the resurrection was a hoax. There are those who question whether Jesus even existed.

True believers in Jesus Christ have no doubt that He lived among us, died for our sins, and after three days was resurrected to life, conquering the sting of death, offering the human race the greatest gift — His sacrificial love.

Several years ago an entertainment network carried a story on the Billy Graham Library, highlighting it as a point of interest in the city of Charlotte, North Carolina. The show’s cohost, Kristy Villa, arrived on the property along with her crew and was met by a colleague who explained what visitors might experience while there. She drew the journalist’s attention to the many crosses displayed, including the forty-foot glass cross through which visitors enter the building.

Halfway through the presentation Villa said with a sense of awe, “I see all the crosses, but where is Jesus?” The colleague smiled and said, “He’s in Heaven, and He is also present in the lives of those who believe in Him and follow Him as their personal Lord and Savior.”

The journalist threw her hands around her face and exclaimed, “Oh, that’s right! Some worship a crucifix, but Christians worship a risen Christ.” After a moment Villa said, “I have been in church my whole life, but I have never heard the emphasis put on an empty cross.”

She may not have realized it, but she had just proclaimed the heart of the Gospel, as I have done for more than seventy years, and later told her viewers, “This destination [the Library] is a place you must come and see!�� When I heard this marvelous report, it made my heart leap, and I thought about the words of the psalmist:

Come and see what God has done... for mankind! — Psalm 66:5 NIV

The question we must all answer is, “What does Jesus’ work on the cross and His resurrection mean to us, and what does it mean to be saved?”

Many people, including some who claim to be Christians, do not fully grasp the impact that the crucified and risen Christ makes upon the human heart. How do I know this? Because there is no change in them. Have you asked yourself, “What do I believe about the empty cross and the empty tomb?”

The foot of the empty cross is the ultimate destination in life. Your acceptance of Jesus’ sacrifice, or your rejection of it, determines your future life. If you do not believe that Jesus died for you, then you will remain the same, being gripped by sin and dying by its penalty, with certainty of eternal judgment in Hell and banishment from God. But if you believe that Jesus rose from the grave, achieving victory over the cross of death, and you accept that He paid your penalty, you will never be the same.

What does it mean to be saved?

The Empty Cross Is Full of Hope

The cross represents doom for sin and hope for sinners. It condemns sin and cleanses souls. The cross is where Jesus was crucified in our place and where Christ brings resurrection life to mankind. The bloodstained cross is gruesome to some, but the empty cross is full of hope.

Satan, overly eager to thwart God’s purposes, overstepped his bounds, and God turned what seemed to be life’s greatest tragedy into history’s greatest triumph. The death of Christ, perpetrated by evil men, was thought by them to be the end, but His grave became but a doorway to a larger victory.

The resurrection empowers faith in Jesus Christ. If I did not believe that Christ overcame death on the cross and bodily rose from the grave, I would have quit preaching years ago. I am absolutely convinced that Jesus is living at this moment at the right hand of God the Father and reigns in my heart. I believe it by faith, and I believe it by evidence found in the Scriptures.

Luke, a physician and disciple of Jesus, was one of the most brilliant men of his day; he made this startling statement about the resurrection in the book of Acts:

He... presented Himself alive after His suffering by many infallible proofs, being seen by them during forty days and speaking of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God. — Acts 1:3

These “infallible proofs” have been debated for two thousand years. Many people have come to know the truth while they tried to prove Jesus’ resurrection a lie and failed. Others ignore the facts recorded in the best-selling book of all time, the Bible."'

Excerpted with permission from The Reason for My Hope by Billy Graham, copyright Billy Graham.

[a-life-in-film-by-wc]

The Sixth Sense (2000)

This was the first cinema date with my first girlfriend and for some reason I thought it would be funny to pretend that my mate Graham, who I’d just been hanging out with in the skateshop, was going to be joining us. I don’t know why I took such a risk at such a precarious time but we did go out for a number of years after this so perhaps it didn’t matter all that much. Anyway, I enjoyed the movie and the twist ‘got’ me (is that what twists do?), although, looking back, it does seem that the whole movie is simply geared towards that twist and most of it doesn’t hold up to even the lightest scrutiny.

Is the sixth sense nonsense? It certainly isn’t a sense of humour. It’s often said that when someone loses a sense, their others become more acute but in this case Haley Joel Osment’s Cole having an extra sense appears to have dulled Bruce Willis’s Crowe’s. If a sense is defined as any channel through which our body can perceive itself, he apparently hasn’t noticed that hardly any of his seem to be functioning at all. I’m guessing M. Knight Shyamalan didn’t spend too much time considering proprioception - the sense of where your body parts are in space. 

Considering Bruce Willis was in Die Hard, he did seem to be dying quite easily in the rest of his films. In fact he was dead by the end of every film I’d see him in (this one, Armageddon, Sin City, Planet Terror) until being mercifully spared by Wes Anderson in 2012’s Moonrise Kingdom, although admittedly I didn’t stay to see if there was a post credits scene.

[thewordfortheday]

As for me, God forbid that I should boast about anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.

—Galatians 6:14 (TLB)

What glory is there in the cross? It was an instrument of torture and shame. Why did Paul glory in it? He gloried in it because the most selfless act ever performed by men or angels took place upon it. He saw-emanating from that rough, unartistic beam upon which the Son of God had been crucified-the radiant hope of the world, the end of the believer’s bondage to sin, and the love of God shed abroad in the hearts of men. A lone man dying on a cross did more to restore man’s lost harmony with God, his fellowman, and himself, than the combined genius and power of earth’s mighty. With my finite limitations, I cannot fully comprehend the mystery of Christ’s atonement. I only know that all who come to the cross in simple, trusting faith lose all their guilty stains and find peace with God.

Prayer for the day

Like the Apostle Paul, Father, help me to glory in the cross of Jesus and more fully understand the tremendous meaning it has for me as a believer and for all who would come to its foot and kneel.

Billy Graham

[lockoutkey]

New fic after months sorry guys

Etho was going to die.

The phone was ringing and he could see the caller ID. Death. His phone said fucking Death. He had heard stories about how people felt when they saw Death calling them. He read the threads people posted of their final day on twitter. He read the submissions to tumblr blogs where people could anonymously confess on their death day like they were in a church. All the “Oh yeah I actually cheated on my wife by fucking her sister.” got old after a while. If you're gonna admit all your wrongdoings before you’re about to die, make it good.

That’s what he always thought. He always criticized them. Now he was the one thinking back on his sins. He never cheated on anyone of course. He could admit to burning down that abandoned factory, but it had been an accident, and he was also 16 at the time. Teenagers are stupid, lay off. He’d already gotten arrested for stealing all those plants, so no reason to admit to that.

The phone kept ringing. It was 12:02am and it would ring until he died unless he answered. Death stared him down through the iPhone. What a horrible way to find out. He should answer. What if it woke up Beef? God, he would have to explain this to his roommate. Should he? He wouldn’t be able to pay half the rent anymore. God, how do you even tell your best friend you have less than a day to live.

He picked up the phone with shaking hands and somehow managed to slide the arrow to talk. “Hello?”

“Hello! Am I speaking to Etho?”

Etho wanted to cry. Who the hell gave Death a phone. He hated Alexander Graham Cracker “Yes.”

“Perfect! I would like to inform you of your death. In the next 24 hours, you will die. Unfortunately, I am unable to provide information such as time and place due to past attempts of death cheaters. However, we are able to provide any resources you need on your final day.”

Fuck.

Etho was silent. He always had a morbid curiosity of what Death said on the final call. Why were they so chipper? He was being told he was going to die. Were they so jaded by their job that they just didn’t care anymore?

“I see you’ve already set up funeral arrangements, which makes this even easier for us. If you would like to make any changes you’ll be able to call us at any point before your death. Now, would you like to be in the death duo program or not?”

None of that made sense to Etho. “What’s a death duo?”

“Ah, my mistake. For those who may be alone or wish to spend it with someone besides their loved ones for some reason, they can be assigned someone else who will be dying the same day. Your death duo would be a man named Bdubs. Would you like to opt into the program?”

Etho laughed humorously. “Why the hell not. Add me in.”

“Lovely! We will send the contact information within five minutes. If you do not receive it, please call or email us. Are you in need of anything else?”

Time. “No.”

“Wonderful. We hope you’ve had a great life. Have a great last day!”

The call ended abruptly. Would he die like that? Suddenly and with no warning? Was he going to die slowly, maybe he would drown or be stabbed. He never feared death, most people didn’t anymore. Now that they knew someone out there was aware of their last day, someone would tell them, they lived life much freer. They could live life dangerously. Why be scared of skydiving if you wouldn’t die that day?

He could hear Beef snoring through their thin apartment walls. He was an early to bed early to rise kinda guy. Etho wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. How could he? He was going to die. He had just peacefully been playing terraria when he got the call. Now he was going through moral dilemmas.

Does he wake up Beef and tell him? He put on his green slippers and stood in front of Beef’s door. He was hesitant to knock. He couldn’t. The last thing they did was make homemade pizzas. The kitchen was still a mess from last night. He lowered his hand. He should clean up. For Beef. Maybe it was cruel to spend his last day away from his friend, but Etho wanted the last memory to be a happy one. He didn’t want Beef to spend the last hours together sad. Plus, he had that Bdubs guy to deal with.

He grabbed a wad of paper towels and sprayed down the counter. There was pizza sauce on the spruce cabinets. How did that even get there? Cheese was stuck on the tiles, and bits of dough were embedded into the counter. His speaker was still turned on. The two really were chaos incarnate. Etho leaned on the counter and ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t cry. The counter was wet from the all-purpose cleaner. So was his face and hands. Who was he kidding? He slid against the wall and stared at the ceiling, feeling like a main character in a movie after they find out bad news. Not too far off from the truth.

His phone buzzed on the half cleaned counter. He wiped the tears across his face and stood up, he still had to put the dishes in the dishwasher. There was a text from an unknown number. He saw Death had texted him a number that matched with the unknown text. This must be his death duo. Bdubs.

Bdubs: Is this Etho?

Etho: Yeah, Bdubs huh?

Bdubs: Yep.

Etho: So…

Bdubs: We’re gonna die, huh?

Etho: I guess.

Bdubs: What are we gonna do about it?

Etho: Wdym?

Bdubs: I mean, I’m not saying go jump off a bridge or travel the world, what are we gonna do? We have a day to live, we might as well make it worth something.

Etho thought about it while putting the rest of the dishes into the washer. He was right. Etho could just sit inside and wait. He could let Beef walk in his room and find his body. He would probably scar his roommate for life, but at least Etho could relax on his last day. Where was the happiness in that though. There wasn’t much to do in January, but they could find some fun.

Etho: Do you know the fountain on Swing Road? Meet me there in an hour.

Bdubs: That’s almost 1:30am

Etho: Like you said, might as well make today worth it

Etho turned off his phone. Bdubs seemed like an interesting guy, but he had only talked for a few sentences. Etho walked into the living room, picking up his and Beef’s cat Chester along the way. He stood next to the coffee table, looking around. He probably wouldn’t see his apartment again after he left. He spent so many nights drinking and watching movies on that old smelly couch. Their Wall of Shame was filled with polaroid photos of him and his friends, mostly of them leaning over a bucket or toilet about to puke their guts out after a night of bar hopping. His favorite was Tango with sharpie dicks on his face. He had been pissed seeing the photo on the wall the next morning. He had soon gotten revenge on the others during their yearly camping trip. Beef, Impulse, Zedaph, and Etho floating on a lake would forever be ingrained in their memories, as well as plastered on the wall for any visitors to see.

Chester stretched in his arms. “Aww, come on buddy, you don’t wanna spend time with me? I thought cats were supposed to tell when people were going to die. Do you hate me that much?” Chester ignored him and hopped down. Stupid cat. He had to get dressed anyway.

What do you wear when you know you’re going to die? Should he be comfortable? Fancy? Casual?

Etho: What are you wearing?

Bdubs: Take me on a date first.

Etho: That’s…nvm

Why did he try? Was he making a mistake? Weren't you supposed to spend your last day surrounded by loved ones? He was supposed to spend it with friends and family, crying his eyes out wishing for more time. Should he back out? What were they even going to do? Fuck it, where was his flannel? He threw it over his white pajama shirt and called it a day. It wasn’t like he slept in it. Jeans, he needed those. He wouldn’t die in ketchup stained sweatpants. He would go out looking like a Calvin Klein model reject.

He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. This was it. He was going to walk out that door and not come back. He should write a letter to Beef, right? He already wrote his will out, it was updated and ready for today. Beef deserved something more though. He shuffled through his desk for a clean sheet of paper and a pen, sliding into his chair for a hastily written death note.

So if you’re reading this letter, I’m dead. Sorry. Well, I don’t know if I should be sorry, cause it’s not like it’s MY fault I got the call. Better me before you though. Can you imagine if they told other people about someone else’s death instead? Like, what if you knew instead. How fucked yo would that be? Sorry, I’m rambling. I bet you read sorry in my accent, huh?

Anyways, since I’m dead you’re gonna be the one doing everything, right? With my will and funeral since my mom and dad are dead too. That’s for doing all that buddy, you mean the world to me, seriously. You don’t have to do all this but you said you would when the day came. We thought it would be in like 50 years, but well, can’t control death.

Take care of our little monster, okay? Chester deserves all the treats. Tell Impulse to finish his PhD and if he doesn’t I'm haunting him. Tell Tango I know he stole my cookies that one time in the fourth grade and I forgive him. Tell Zed not to join me too soon, I know his experiments get dangerous, stay safe.

I love you.

His roof must have a leak because there were splotches of water on the paper. He folded it and wrote his roommate's name on the back. There was no reason for Beef to go in here until he got the call Etho was dead.

He looked at the clock and swore. He had half an hour to get to the fountain. He would have to run rather than walk. Should he throw caution to the wind? It wasn’t like he was going to die tomorrow.

He slipped on his shoes and unlocked the door. The click seemed to echo through the house. He winced and turned the doorknob, keeping a close eye on Chester. The evil little demon liked to bolt.

The lock clicked into place and he made a run for it. God, he needed more exercise. Technical support workers only got so much exercise. He hoped his clients wouldn’t be too mad their computers weren’t fully fixed. Beef could recommend them to someone else. Hell, he could probably fix their computers for them.

The stress he dashed by still wasn't empty. Every few minutes a car would zoom past on their way to who knows where. Maybe they had gotten the call as well. He lived on the outskirts of the city and didn’t miss the chaos at all. The small apartment was nice, he could walk everywhere he needed to go, and if he needed to go somewhere further he could grab a train or bus. Life was nice.

Damnit.

He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce. He slowed down as he came up on the center fountain. It wasn’t hard to find Bdubs, seeing as he was the only person standing by the unused sculpture this late at night. His hands were in his sweatshirt pockets. The man was doing a strange dance where he would jump on the fountain edge, lean forward, back, and jump down as gravity and momentum took over. He slammed the label goofball on Bdubs before even speaking with him.

“Hey!” He shouted across the square. Bdubs, in the middle of a jump, turned violently and fell back into the fountain. Thank god it was the middle of winter and turned off, that could have spelled disaster.

Now, Etho was described as many things. He had an aura that strangers often found mysterious and intimidating. Friends knew he was just Some Guy. He refers to himself as a nerd who likes to fix computers and collect pokémon cards. He wanted to make a good first impression on Bdubs though. Etho ran up to the fallen Bdubs, who looked like a freshly kicked raccoon. What he wanted to say was an apology. Etho also wanted to ask about the status of Bdubs’s health. These thoughts ended with Etho saying the following.

“Are you fucking sorry?”

If it weren’t the last day of his life, the look on Bdubs’ face would haunt him for the rest of it. “Excuse me?!”

Etho ran his hands down his face. So much for good first impressions. “No, wait. I was trying to say ‘Are you okay’ and ‘I’m so fucking sorry’ at the same time and I messed up. My bad.”

Bdubs shook his head. “Man, this is the guy they set me up with. Well, I won’t complain. I would have stayed with my roommates, but…”

“You want them to remember you without the whole inevitable end thing?” Etho finished.

Bdubs nodded. Maybe that’s why people agreed to this dumb setup. Yeah, it was nice to spend your final hours with people you love, but why spend it sad and wishing for more time. Let them remember you for the person you were, right?

“So, what first?” Etho asked. He had a few ideas, but had no clue what to do at 1:30am. Nothing was open.

“You ever heard of insomnia cookies? It’s like 10 minutes away from the city. Closes at 3am?”

Etho nodded his head. He’d never been there himself but heard good things about the store. “There first?”

“Yup.” Bdubs twirled his keys and walked towards a lone blue car. It barely looked held together and Etho was sure this metal tube was his sentence. “I’ve always wanted to try it but I always put it off. Thought I had time, ya know?”

Etho rubbed his hands together. “Trust me, I know.”

Etho stepped into the passenger side and immediately made sure there was a handle to grab onto. Better safe than sorry. Then again, he had no reason to be safe today. Might as well live on the edge. He still put his seatbelt on though. Safety first.

Bdubs driving was, if he was to make a comparison, akin to a squirrel on ketamine. Etho was going to throw up. That would be how he died, in a car with a man he just met while puking and it would be all Bdubs fault. Where did he find this guy again?

“Let me the hell out.” Etho wheezed.

“Why? Is there something wrong with my driving?” Bdubs asked, flying over a speed bump and smashing into a traffic cone.

“Oh my god.”

Thankfully, he slowed down once they got closer to the city. There were few days and pedestrians, but just because it was their last day on earth didn’t mean they had to be the cause someone else met their end.

The city lights flashed off the glass skyscrapers. He had never really been a city boy, he liked plants more than sewer rats. However, when it was silent, when no one was out, it was almost peaceful. The scaffolding flew past and he imagined construction workers and their fear of falling.

“Where is this place?” He asked.

Bdubs gestured up ahead. “A couple blocks, trust me, you’ll like it.”

Etho raised an eyebrow. “How would you know what I like? You just met me. Maybe I like bitter things.”

“Do you like bitter food?”

“No.”

Bdubs smirked. “There you go. Okay, how ‘bout this, 20 questions, you and me. Easy way to get to know each other!”

Etho scoffed. “Really? 20 questions? Isn’t that a game teenagers play to ask each other on a date?”

Bdubs opened his mouth to retaliate and disagree, but accepted Etho was right. “Fine, it's not 20 questions. It’s two guys dying at any moment and they wanna get to know each other. That sound good?”

Etho tapped his chin. “Hmm, I can accept that.”

The cookie place wasn’t that impressive. It seemed like a bad start to the day, but Etho would stay positive. He hasn’t even tried the cookies yet. The door chimed open and the two stepped into the warm shop. It was nicer on the inside, chairs set up around the place. Paintings of cookies dotted the walls under posters advertising different types of cookies they sold.  He didn’t know there could be cookies so big.

“Welcome to Insomnia Cookies, how can I help you?” The cashier asked with as much energy someone could have at almost two am. They were here close to closing, so they were rightfully annoyed at them. They could suck it up, today was the day for Etho to do whatever the hell he wanted.

Bdubs looked through the cookies on display. “Hmmm, I’ll have the deluxe monster’wich! Etho, what do you want?”

Etho looked at Bdubs in disbelief. “Why would you order that? It’s in the negatives outside.”

Bdubs shrugged. “Go big or go home.”

Etho laughed. “You know what? Okay. I’ll just have a snickerdoodle cookie.”

The cashier sighed and rang them up. “$10.87.”

Enthusiastic. Listen, Etho was an insomniac, he wouldn’t even get the chance to fall asleep until at least 3am on a good night, this was hardly the first time he would be awake for a whole day.

The cookies were already made so they sat down quickly. Bdub’s ice cream dripped onto his napkin and Etho couldn’t help but be the slightest bit jealous and wishing he had gotten it. However, he would rather have his cookie than freeze. His jacket was barely keeping out the cold.

“What next?” Bdubs asked, mouth full of ice cream and cookie bits.

That was a good question. There wasn’t much to do at 2am. Most of the population was asleep or at their homes. Only Walmarts and this Insomnia Cookie were open. “Wanna graffiti a building?”

Bdubs’s eyes widened. “That’s illegal!”

Etho took a bite of cookies. “I mean, only if you get caught. It’s not as bad as the arson.”

“You know what,” Bdubs smirked. “You’re not wrong. Alright, Mr. ACAB, where we doin’ this? Do you just have spray paint or whatever you use on hand?”

Etho tossed his wrapper in the trash can. “I know a guy. He’ll still be awake right now, he’s just like that.”

Bdubs followed Etho out, making sure to wipe off his ice cream covered hands before leaving. It was still freezing out and Etho was glad he hadn’t had ice cream. Watching Bdubs shiver, he wondered if the other man regretted it. Probably not.

Etho gave the directions to Bdubs and they headed off. Now that they were in the city, his driving was much better, however, Etho still feared for his life. He couldn’t even drive but he could probably stay between the lines better than Bdubs. “Why are you such a bad driver?”

“Is that one of the questions?”

Etho shook his head, turning green. “It’s a concern for our safety.”

Bdubs nodded to the wheel. “You wanna drive?”

“I can’t drive.” Etho admitted. “But I could probably do a hell of a lot better than whatever you’re doing.”

Bdubs grinned, Etho didn’t like it. “Is that a challenge?”

Oh no. “Yes.”

Bdubs cackled. “Fine then, we’ll see who the better driver is.”

Etho bit his lip. He might’ve just made a mistake. Oh well, something to pass the time.

“So, what’s this guys name? This mysterious stranger.” Bdubs swerved around the corner.

“Iskall.” Etho gritted out. “We were college roommates but he went off with some friends. Came back a few years ago and I helped him get set up around here. He owns a pawn shop.”

“Cool! So he has money, right?” Bdubs asked. Etho shrugged. He never asked how much Iskall made, but it was probably more than his measly salary.

The pawn shop was tucked between a thrift store and a chinese restaurant. The bright green ‘VAULT HUNTERS’ sign pushed away the darkness. Iskall should already be down. He’d texted his friend they were coming but gave no details. Hopefully the Swedish man could forgive him.

Etho rapped on the door. A shout came from within the door and brought a smile to Etho’s face. He hadn’t seen Iskall in a while, and although he wouldn’t let the man know why they were there so early in the morning, he would enjoy seeing his old friend one last time.

“What the hell are you doing here? Do you know what time it is? Who are you?” The Swedish man raged in the doorway.

Etho smiled. “It’s nice to see you too, Iskall! Can we come in?”

Iskall grumbled but opened the door for them. The two walked into the pawn shop, ignoring the burning glare of Iskall. The shop was filled to the brim with who knows what, probably organized in a way only Iskall knew. In one corner was a grand piano and in another was a ceramic clown. Paintings that had to be worth thousands hung on the wall. How has this place not been robbed yet? Though he wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Iskall’s rage, they were friends, and the man wouldn’t actually hurt him. Probably.

“I need the stuff.” Etho requested.

Iskall raised an eyebrow. “The helpful stuff or the bad stuff.”

“The fun stuff.”

“Damnit Etho.”

Iskall beckoned them further into the mess. Bdubs looked as if he was resisting the urge to touch everything in sight and he was relieved the man kept his hands to himself. He led them to a counter that Iskall walked behind and disappeared into a back room.

Bdubs glanced nervously at Etho. “He’s not gonna kill us, right?”

Etho looked thoughtful. “Probably not.”

“Great.”

Iskall came back out and threw a duffle bag on the table. Metal clinked together inside the ripped bag. “I don’t know what you two are planning, but this isn’t mine.”

Etho nodded. “This isn’t yours, got it. Thanks, Iskall.”

Iskall waved him off. “You’re lucky you’re one of my best friends, Etho. Let me know if you need anything else, preferable at a different time, though.”

Etho shot finger guns at him. “You got it. We’re heading out. Bye, Iskall!”

Iskall waved and headed up a set of stairs. Etho turned to Bdubs and grinned, holding up the bag. “So, where first?”

Bdubs walked towards the door. “Luckily for you, there’s one place that has been annoying me for way too long. You know Boatem?”

Etho ran through his memory. “That new shopping center with the train?”

Bdubs nodded. “My favorite cafe used to be there. I live close to there and that train goes off at all points of the day. It’s time for revenge.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Etho cheered, throwing the bag into the back seat. Good thing cops rarely showed up late at night. Plus, Etho knew how to evade them. He had practice.

The cans rattled in the backseat as Bdubs sped through the streets. On second thought, maybe it would be nice for some cops to show up. They could actually pull the man over and explain what a speed limit was. “Slow down…”

“Hell no!” Bdubs cheered.

They got to Boatem in record time. Etho himself had never been as he was more of a thrifting man than hundred dollar shopping outlets. Sometimes capitalism needs to be sent a message in the form of toxic pain.

“Where do you wanna do this?” Etho asked. “You know the place better than me.”

Bdubs motioned towards a large platform. “The train, it annoys me the most. What should we draw on it though?”

“Your mom.” Etho blurted without thinking. Silence fell between the two as they processed exactly what Etho said. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean YOUR mom, I mean the words. I’m sure you have a lovely mother.”

Bdubs doubled over laughing. “Seriously? The best you can come up with is that? How old are you?”

Etho crossed his arms. “It’s a classic joke…”

“Fine. You write your dumb jokes. I’m writing the communist manifesto.” Bdubs stomped off to apparently spread propaganda. To each their own.

Etho hopped next to the train. It was smaller than a real train and didn’t actually move. But from the wiring he could see, it probably made the same noisess as one. That would line up with Bdubs’s annoyance. He pushed a box over so he was level with the side and grabbed a red can. He didn’t care what Bdubs said, your mom jokes were hilarious. He didn’t just write jokes, he also drew various animals on the train. He wasn’t what you would call an artist, but a couple of circles definitely made a cat. Cats were cute. He couldn’t be arrested for cute things. That’s why he was never arrested, when he most likely should be.

“You done?” He heard after a while. Etho looked over his zoo work. Beautiful.

“Yeah!” He shouted back.

Bdubs wandered over and glanced over his art. “I’m sure Boatem will be thoroughly pissed off. Good job, E!”

“Thank you! What did you do?” Etho followed Bdubs over to his side where he did indeed see the first lines of the communist manifesto. He thought he was joking, but no, his new friend really knew it by heart. It was surrounded by some of the most beautiful graffiti he had ever seen. Was he an artist? He had to take a picture with his phone. “Bdubs, you’re amazing.”

“I know!” Bdubs flipped non-existent hair. “What next? It’s almost 5am.”

Etho bit his nail. “Are you hungry? I know a good cafe that’s open around this time. Since yours closed down, you can try this one out.”

“Sure, where is it? I can’t believe they open at 5am. Who does that?” Bdubs asked.

“Well, they don’t actually, they get there to get ready. I just know people.” Etho admitted.

Bdubs laughed. “Ok, Mr. Popular and Mysterious. Do you know anyone who could talk death into sparing us?”

The fun mood deflated from Etho. “No.”

Bdubs realized his mistake and tried to apologize. Etho waved him off but still felt the dark cloud fall over him once again. He felt bad for making Bdubs feel guilty, but he was still processing his impending death. The car ride to the cafe was as silent as it was dangerous, but Etho could even bring himself to lighten the mood despite Bdubs’s many tries. They only spoke once they pulled up to the cafe Etho had mentioned. “Well, we’re here.”

Etho snorted. “Let’s go in.”

The cafe was tiny but cute. It had a yellow and green exterior that emitted a vibe of joy. Despite it being winter, there were chairs and tables for outside seating. They were covered in a thin layer of frost from the low temperature. The glass front had the words “Stressless Cafe” in decals. He knocked on the door and a brunette woman in an apron opened the door. “Etho! What are you doing here? It’s not even opening.”

Etho rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I know, but I was out this early and this was the only place I could think to take us. Oh, this is Bdubs. Bdubs, this is Stress.”

Stress looked carefully at Bdubs before holding out her hand. “I haven’t seen you before. New friend of Etho’s?”

Bdubs shook her hand and glanced at Etho. “Um, something like that.”

Stress paused and a grin slowly spread across her face. “Oh! Well, good for you, Etho. It’s about time you brought someone around.”

Etho’s eyes widened in panic. “No, Stress, it’s not- that’s not- you’re misunderstanding.”

Stress winked at Bdubs. “He’s a shy one.”

Bdubs’s face heated up, catching on to Stress’s implication. “Oh, that’s not- We’re not- you’ve got it wrong!”

Stress laughed. “Whatever you two say. Come on in. You want the usual, Etho?”

Etho tried to hide more of his face in his mask. “Yes, that’s fine.”

Stress brought them to a table and pointed at the still red Bdubs. “What about you? Anything in particular?”

“Um, a hot chocolate please?” He squeaked out.

Stress nodded. “Strawberry cake okay?” She walked away to prepare their order before getting a confirmation. Who was this woman?

“Stress is nosy, I’m so sorry for her.” Etho said. He stared at the table. Well, the previous awkwardness was now replaced with a different kind.

Bdubs coughed. “It’s fine. Friends are like that, yeah?”

An awkward silence fell over the table. Great, how was this going to be fixed. “So, how long have you known Stress.”

Etho looked relieved to talk about something easy and familiar. “She was originally a friend of Iskall. They were in the same classes and she would come over all the time. She opened the cafe when she graduated and I’ve been coming here ever since.”

Bdubs nodded. “That’s cool she could open it right away. It’s hard to do that as a college kid.”

“Her parents have good money and helped her out, plus we spread fliers all over town for like a month before the opening.” Etho explained.

“What are you two doing here so early?”

Etho’s mouth dropped. “Iskall?!”

Iskall stood in front of them decked out in an apron and green shirt. He looked positively annoyed to see the two of them. “Yes, that’s my name.”

“Don’t you work at your own shop?” Bdubs asked. He was new to this friend group, so perhaps he was wrong. Judging by Etho’s reaction though the man wasn’t usually there.

Iskall placed their food and drinks down. “Eh, I help Stress out sometimes. Today is your lucky day.”

Etho nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay, I guess that makes sense?”

“Well…bye.” Iskall walked off presumably to help stress.

“Does he just work everywhere?” Bdubs asked. Etho threw up his hands. How was he supposed to know? He just dug into his muffin and tried to ignore his impending doom. Bdubs did the same with his cake.

It was nice to sit in silence after the crazy few hours they had so far. Etho would admit, it had been the most fun he had in quite a while. He never would have been able to do something like this without being under these circumstances.

The two were able to get over their awkwardness and just talk for a few hours in the cozy warmth of the cafe table. There really wasn’t much they could do at this time, but at least they could get to know each other.

Etho had barely touched his phone since he left the house. Beef must’ve noticed he wasn’t there because his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Sure enough, a text from his roommate. Beef usually wakes up around 7.

Beef: Yo, Etho, where are you?

Did he lie? He should. He couldn’t tell the truth. Beef would want him home immediately and Etho just couldn’t face him.

Etho: Got a text from a client. Said they would pay more if I could check out their computer right now. I won’t say no to money. I couldn’t sleep anyways.

A pang of guilt ran through him. It was for Beef though. It would only hurt him to know what was happening to his friend.

Beef: Sweet, thanks for doing the dishes btw. It was a nice surprise.

Etho smiled and told him it wasn’t any problem. Bdubs looked at him suspiciously. “What’s that smile for?”

“Texting my roommate.” Etho put his phone back down and stretched. “So, you have any more plans?”

Bdubs grinned. “While you were busy texting, I made a few reservations for us.”

That worried Etho. “Reservations?”

Bdubs nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! First thing first, to the mall. We have a fitting to get to.”

Etho should be more worried. His last day on earth and he wasn’t being told where they were going. It could be Bdubs that kills him. What if Bdubs made him drink too much soda? What if Bdubs suffocated him in his car?

The voice of Beef haunted his mind. Stop catastrophizing Etho.

Right. Why would Bdubs kill him when they’re meant to be friends.

Etho pushed away his long finished drink and food. “Alright, tell me about this mysterious fitting.”

“Don’t worry, just follow me.” Bdubs said cryptically.

Etho felt a pant in his heart when Stress cheerfully called out. “See you later Etho! Nice meeting you Bdubs!” No, she wouldn’t be seeing them later, but that’s okay. He got to see his friend one last time. He made sure to leave a bigger tip than usual when she wasn’t looking. $100 should be good.

There were more people out and about now that the sun was up. Some were headed to work while others were simply starting their day with a morning walk. The now crowded land gave him an even bigger fear of Bdubs’s driving and his own death. At any moment they could reach their end.

“So, where are we going?” Etho gritted out. His heart lurched as Bdubs swerved across the lane. He heard a honk from behind him and looked in the mirror to see a woman throw her hands up in her car. He silently apologized on behalf of Bdubs.

“The mall! We have a fitting to get to.” Bdubs said with no explanation. What fitting? Huh?

He found out exactly what he meant when he and Bdubs walked up to a place called Suit and Shoot. He had never touched a place like this before.

“You ever been to a suit store before?” Bdubs asked.

Etho shook his head. “The last time I wore a suit was when I went to my brother's weddings.”

“What’s their names?” Bdubs asked innocently. Etho closed his eyes. Damnit. Oh well, it was bound to happen.

“Patho and Logo.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“We’re triplets.”

“Fuck off.”

Etho sighed. He loved his mother, but sometimes he wished she didn’t smoke so much weed back in the 80s. Oh well, maybe this was just his punishment. He should stop saying things about himself. Actually, maybe he should stop speaking. Then again, he doubted Bdubs would let him.

“Welcome to Suit and Shoot! How can I- Etho? Bdubs?”

As if this situation couldn’t get any stranger. “Iskall?!” Etho gasped.

Iskall fiddled with measuring tape. “What are you two doing here?”

“What are YOU doing here?” Bdubs accused. “You were just at the cafe. How did you get here so quickly? Do you work everywhere?”

It was more of a rhetorical question, but honestly, Etho wanted to know as well. He only knew his old friend was working at that thrift shop, but a cafe and suit fitting store as well? How many hours a week did this man work? When did he sleep?

Iskall sighed. “Etho, follow me. Bdubs, you go with Wels.”

Wels gestured for Bdubs to walk ahead of him into a side room. Bdubs threw a peace sign at Etho before disappearing through the door. Etho sighed and followed Iskall towards his own fitting room. Did he really need this? What was the point?

Etho let his mind wander while Iskall measured him. What was this even for? Why was he at a fitting at 8am? What was the meaning of life? Wait, this was getting a bit too deep for him. He shouldn’t think that deep. He hasn’t known Bdubs for long, but from what he knows is he did everything with a purpose. What was that purpose? Etho didn’t know. He just knew there was a purpose behind it.

“Alright, done. Give me an hour. What’s this for anyway?”

Etho was taken back. He didn’t know much about being a tailor but didn’t it take days? Today was already strange, though. Might as well make it weirder. “No clue, Bdubs’ idea.”

Iskall looked suspicious. “You two are up to quite a lot today, aren’t you? What’s going on? Big tip for Stress and a suit. You finally take Cleo’s advice?”

Etho’s face heated up. “No! Nothing like that! God, no. Why would you- no. Anyway, it’s just…a thing. I’d rather not talk about it.”

Iskall raised an eyebrow. “Now I’m even more suspicious. Alright, I’ll leave you to it. His shoes do kinda look expensive though, if you’re not gonna, I might-.”

“ISKALL!”

Etho was instructed to wait in the front while Iskall finished up their suits. Etho stopped asking questions long ago. Bdubs joined hom not long after, chatting away. Etho closed his eyes, hoping to get a bit of sleep before the two tailors were finished. Was Iskall even qualified to work here? Was he qualified to work anywhere?

“Etho, wake up.”

He was shaken back into reality seconds later. He glanced down at his phone and saw he had indeed fallen asleep. Iskall was standing in front of him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Welcome back sleeping beauty.”

Etho yawned. “Take me back.”

Iskall pulled his arms. “Nope, I didn’t fix this damn suit for you to sleep in my waiting room. Get up.”

“Your waiting room?” Etho asked, not quite believing the implication Iskall owned the place. How rich was his friend?

Despite Iskall’s many occupations, Etho had to admit, he made a damn good suit. Etho turned in the mirror, admiring the blue and red outfit. He’s never owned something so fancy. He also didn’t have money to pay for it.

Iskall seemed to read his mind. “Your friend paid for it, I know this is out of your pay range. Which brings me to my previous question.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Etho walked out finally knowing what it was like to be rich. Well, he was still pretty poor, but at least now he looked like he was big money. Bdubs was in a matching green and red suit looking like a walking christmas tree. Etho kept it to himself but silently made it his goal to get someone else to bring it up. He didn’t have a death wish, considering he was already set to die, but someone else could take the bullet and make the comment.

Bdubs grinned, holding his arms out. “Fancy, right?”

Etho stifled a laugh. “Yep, dapper. So, not that this isn’t fun, but what was the point?”

“You’ll see, let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Mcdonald’s.”

Walking into a McDonalds in a three piece suit was definitely not something he thought he would do today. It wasn’t something he thought he would ever do, actually. They got some weird looks but the euphoria he felt about having no cares as to what others thought pushed the looks away. Who gave a shit what some middle aged mom thought when he was going to order chicken nuggets in a fancy outfit.

Bdubs marched up to the cashier with his head held high. The name tag said ‘Grian’ and the guy looked halfway between wanting to die and wanting to kill. They barely phased him. Poor dude probably saw more shit in a day than they did their whole lives. Their shenanigans were nothing.

“What?”

Etho glanced through the menu. “I’ll have a ten piece chicken nugget with a large fry. Oh, and a chocolate milkshake. What do you want?”

“I’ll have the same, but a twenty piece.” Bdubs added, holding out his card.

Grian sighed and took the card. He was going to hand it back but instantly froze. His eyes narrowed and for a minute Etho thought they were in trouble. “Tommy.”

Etho turned around and noticed a teenager standing behind him. He was grinning ear to ear looking right at Grian. “Groin! I didn’t expect you here!”

“Groin?” Bdubs whispered. Etho shrugged, just wanting his chicken nuggets.

“Iskall!” Grian called behind him. “I’ll be back, I have to eat Tommy’s walls again!”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” A voice yelled from the back.

“Iskall? You work here?” They had just seen him make their suits, why was he at a McDonalds? Why was he at any of these places besides the store he owned? Did he own this McDonalds too?

Iskall grabbed Grian’s shirt. “Leave and I’ll burn your house.”

“Don’t eat my house again!” The child, Tommy, cried in despair. Etho glanced at Bdubs and silently moved out of line. Whatever this soap opera was, he didn’t want any part of it. They had paid and that was all that mattered.

“So, Iskall works at a lot of places, huh?” Bdubs asked.

Etho shrugged. “I honestly don’t know if he actually works there.” A loud crash distracted the two and they saw a man storm out from an office. His nametag claimed him as Xisuma, the manager. Oh boy, this was about to get interesting.

“What is all this mess about?” The manager asked.

Iskall pointed at his coworker. “Don’t look at me, Grian is threatening to eat that kid's house again. I’m pretty sure this is against store code or something.”

“It is.” Xisuma turned to Tommy. “You want a job?”

“WHAT?” Screeched Grian.

Everyone ignored him. “Fuck yeah! Sign me up boss man!”

Xisuma waved them off and left for the office again. “Great, start now.”

Iskall sighed and reached for a bag of food. “Great, now I have to train a newbee. Take your damn food, Etho.”

Etho smiled in sympathy. “Good luck buddy.”

Etho was very careful with the sauce. He refused to ruin his new fancy suit. Sure, he would only have his suit for today, seeing as he was gonna die, but that didn’t matter. It was the principle. The world had other plans, however.

“Fuck!” Etho yelled, dropping ketchup onto his jacket. He grabbed a napkin and dabbed at it, hoping it wouldn’t stain.

“He’s goated with the sauce.”

Etho turned back towards the counter. The new trainee, Tommy, stared him down. Etho felt his skin crawl. “What?”

Tommy pointed. “Quirked up white boy bustin it down sexual style. Is he goated with the sauce?”

Etho looked at Bdubs, who shrugged his shoulders. “Are you?”

Etho was gonna pass out.

“Can we go?” Etho asked, pushing away the rest of his meal. He didn’t wait for Bdubs and instead hurried out of the McDonalds. Bdubs rushed after, throwing a quick thank you to Grian. Tommy shouted back instead, vastly misinterpreting it.

“I want to go hiking. We can drive to the mountain, but I want to get to the top.” Bdubs led the way to his car. Etho still couldn’t shake his anxiety of getting in that car. After the first close call he wanted nothing to do with that death trap. He did not want to die in a car. He had avoided cars for so long it would piss him off to die in one.

“I don’t think I’ve been hiking in years, I’m down. Converse aren’t the best but I’ll deal with it. It’s not like my feet are gonna hurt tomorrow.” Etho jokes. Bdubs punched him in the arm at the sick comedy.

Etho didn’t know if Bdubs drove like a maniac because he was going to die, or if that was his usual style. But he weaved through traffic like a tetris player in the middle of a prize winning competition. He either ignored the honking or straight up didn’t hear them. He was so focused on getting to whatever mountain they were heading to he nearly hit an elderly woman. He missed though. It wasn’t her day to die, then.

Bdubs slowed as they left the city. Etho had never really left, he’d grown up surrounded by metal and concrete. Maybe it was nice to die away from it all? Somewhere strange and new. Beautiful and wild. The mountains loomed large and dark, so similar yet different from his home, and in a way so like his enclosing fate. The paved roads changed to dirt and open landscapes changed to tall spruce and oak trees.

Etho threw himself out of the car as soon as they hit the forest. Bdubs ignored him and stretched. He grabbed a stick on the ground and tested its weight. “Look at that! Free walking stick!”

Etho groaned and pushed himself up. The one good thing about dying today; he would never have to deal with Bdubs’ god-awful driving ever again. After all, this was probably the last place they would end up. They somehow hadn’t died on the road. Etho had no clue how they could die on the mountain, though. Would they be killed by some bear?

Bdubs poked Etho with his stick. “Come on, we’re not dead yet.”

Etho pushed himself up and sighed. “No, but we’re pretty damn close. Let’s go, maybe this mountain is a volcano and is gonna explode soon.”

“Now that would be a way  to go!”

Etho had to admit the long trek was relaxing on his mind. It was painful and he had to stop way too often, but he was disappointed he hadn’t done this more. He didn’t really believe in an afterlife or some god he’s supposed to see, but if he were to be reincarnated, he hoped he were smart enough to think about coming here. Maybe he would even be a tree. A nice dark oak tree.

Neither of them talked much during those next few hours. They didn’t have much to talk about. They were just waiting at this point. Who would be first? Etho or Bdubs? Etho didn’t know if he hoped it was him or not. It was a stupid and horrible system, the whole phone call business.

The top of the mountain was even more amazing, especially at that time of the day. The city was far, but Etho could still see the lights sparkling. The forest around them was dark with the waning light, only the last rays of sun dipped over the horizon and lit up clouds of pink and purple. Etho couldn’t help but stand and watch as the light disappeared and plunged them into darkness. Pink clouds were quickly replaced by gray whisps, the moon taking the place of the sun.

“Damn, it’s beautiful up here at night.” Bdubs breathed out.

Etho had to agree. The day had been long and tumultuous, but looking at the billions of stars was worth the climb. The day was ending and they had little time left. He had never been in the woods at night, but now that he was, he was glad he had come.

“I didn’t even say bye to my roommate.” Etho admitted.

Bdubs turned to him curiously. “Why not?”

Etho shrugged. “I couldn’t. I don’t want his last thoughts about me to be me dying.”

Bdubs sighed. “I told my roommate and he kinda understood. I told him that I’d rather not spend it sitting in my room just waiting for it. I can’t do that. You didn’t tell your family?”

Another shrug. “Same reason. Maybe it’s bad, but I want them to remember the happy stuff, ya know?”

“That kinda makes sense.” Bdubs admitted. “I think mine would try to stop it. I mean, you can’t, but they would try. They wouldn’t just let me wait around for it. That’s why I went out today.”

Etho nodded. He could understand that. Waiting for death seemed like a personal hell. He’s heard stories of people trying to get out of death by staying in one place the whole day only for someone to break in or die of a heart attack. Some people choose how they go out and a suicide death is slapped on. He always wondered what those people thought right before they did it. What if that truly was how they were to die? If they just had someone come at the right time, could death be cheated? Or were they destined to simply die one day, death be damned how it happens.

There were only a few hours left in the day. He was getting tired as well. All the adventures had taken so much out of him. It wasn’t just the running around and non-stop trips, though he had to admit multiple of those were his idea. He was hungry, they had missed dinner after all. He hadn’t expected to end up on top of a mountain, but he also hadn’t expected to die today. Hungry, tired, and ready to die, Etho was feeling content with how things had turned out. He could stop stressing knowing there was nothing he could do, there was no stopping the inevitable.

“What would you do if today didn’t happen?”

Etho glanced over at Bdubs lying on the ground. “Good question. Probably be working on a computer. I wouldn’t have done the dishes. I don’t really do much, I usually end up causing trouble when I do.”

Bdubs grinned. “So graphic design is your passion?”

Etho threw a branch at Bdubs. “Shut up. What about you?”

Bdubs shrugged. “Dunno. I’m kinda the opposite. I really like to explore the city. I get inspiration from random stuff I see so I’d probably just take a walk somewhere. I’ve been into photography lately. I wouldn’t have spent it running around with you.

“I wouldn’t have spent it in a car with your bad driving.” Etho grinned.

“Hey!” Bdubs yelled. “My driving is impeccable. You can’t even drive."

“I don’t need to drive to know you’re the worst driver in the world.”

“Why I outta-”

Bdubs complaining was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing. Etho’s phone. He looked at the caller ID and nearly dropped it. He was only supposed to hear from Death once in his life. Bdubs caught a look at it the same moment Etho did and paled. Why were they calling again? They never called twice. At least, not that he’s heard of.

“Answer it.” Bdubs forced out. Etho didn’t want to. Can someone die twice? Is that even possible?

Etho slid to accept the call anyway and heard the preppy voice of Death. “Hello! Is this Etho Slab?”

“Yes.” Etho answered shakily.

“Thank goodness I caught you! There appears to have been a mixup in our system. Your name was replaced with someone else. This is a 1 in 7 trillion chance of this happening.”

Etho fell to his knees. All day, all damn day he had feared every step he took, every breath, and it turned out it was a lie? He was going to pass out. “Oh.”

“Yes, congratulations! You live another day. Funeral plans will be canceled immediately and optional therapy sessions will be available to you. Have a wonderful day!”

They hung up. They dropped that bomb and just hung up. Etho stared at Bdubs, looking equally as shocked. “I’m not gonna die.”

Seconds after, Bdubs phone buzzed in his pocket. The two stared, not giving into the thought of it being the same call. There was no way. It was impossible. “H- Hello?”

Etho stared at Bdubs. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but could only assume the same conversation was happening on the other end.

Bdubs nodded but remembered they couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

There was a beat of silence and Bdubs hung up. He’d heard everything he needed to. This wasn’t happening but it was. He sat on the ground trying to process this new information.

“We’re not gonna die.” He whispered, smiling at Etho. “Etho, we’re not gonna die!”

Etho fell onto his back and gazed at the sky. Bdubs’s shouts of excitement were background noise to the racing thoughts. How does he even move on from this? He has trauma now. Bdubs sat next to Etho. He was grinning like a madman. How was he so happy when the world had just been flipped. An hour. They would’ve had an hour left.

What had happened to the other two? There were two people out there who didn’t realize they were dying today. Had they already died? Were they dying? How did it happen? They weren’t even warned, they didn’t spend their last days how they wished. Etho felt guilt gnaw at him. It wasn’t his fault, though. He didn’t tell people about their death. This wasn’t on him. He tried to rationalize with himself but the thought that he was selfishly spending the day carelessly while others lived in ignorant demise ate at him.

“What do we even do now?” Etho asked.

Bdubs shrugged. “Go back to life. Just, ya know, be normal guys. Bros being dudes.”

Etho had fun with Bdubs today. Sure, they never would have met were it not for the mixup, or maybe they would. Maybe this was fate's weird way of bringing them together. Either way, he didn’t want to leave his new friend. He had more fun than he had in months all in one day. He didn’t want to go back to normal life. He couldn’t.

“You’ll have to give me your address and stuff, though. I wanna meet that cat of yours you mentioned.” It was like his mind was read.

Etho laughed. “Yeah, lemme take a week to recover from this, then we’ll talk.” God, he couldn’t wait to tell Beef about this.

[bronzewool]

Charl’s Top 10 Problematic ships:

Aoba x Mink - Noncon of the highest order. Not even the English censorship could make this game any less problematic. But its OK because Mink actually cares about Aoba. So that makes everything he did to him OK…not really?

Will Graham x Hannibal Lector - Dracula & Vampire Chronicles combined but dial everything up to 11. Now with even more murder, even more gaslighting, even more baby trapping, and cannibalism. :3

Count Dracula x Jonathan Harker - Held his own solictor hostage in his castle for several months, threw out his only shaving mirror, stole his clothes and framed him for babynapping, gas lighted him and casually mocked his helplessness to do anything about it, didn’t even have the courtesy to eat Jonathan himself and left him for his brides. Dick.

Lestat de Lioncourt x Louis de Pointe du Lac - Stalking your crush from a distance because he looks like your dead ex-lover and calling it “fatefully falling in love at first sight”, gaslighting said crush into eternal damnation marriage, baby trapping said crush so he won’t leave you (spoilers it did not fix their marriage), withholding vital information about vampirism because you don’t know jackshit about vampire culture and won’t admit it because you know he will dump your fine ass.

Satoru x Yashiro (Yashisato) - Murdered his student’s classmates and then his mum just to cover his own tracks. Underaged shotacon due to time travel shenangigans (Yashiro never learns Satoru is an adult trapped in a 10yo’s body), obsesses over said comatosed kid for 15 years and then tries to commit a lovers suicide in the manga after he wakes up.

Jinx x Silco (Jilco) - Unhealthy coping mechanisms from an emotionally stunted adult who had been betrayed by his brother and encourages his ward into following said unhealthy coping mechanism in order to deal with her own past trauma. Spoilers, it does not work and just encourages her self destructive tendencies.

Madoka x Homura (Homumado) - Unhealthy attachment for your senpai who keeps sacrifcing herself in every timeline no matter how many times you try and stop her. Steals your senpai’s powers and traps her inside your demon form because you would rather have her all to yourself then actually try and save the world.

Akira Fudo x Ryo Asuka - One is technically a devilman, the other is lucifer himself. They are forever doomed to be best friends who will bring about a war between heaven and earth that will end with both of them losing and all of humanity dying as a result of their relationship.

Sarah Williams x Jareth the Goblin King - She’s a 15yo larper and he’s an ageless fey creature probably centuries old. Kidnapped her baby brother and threatened to turn him in a goblin. Actually said the line “Fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.” Honestly, she should have just accepted the offer. Dumb brat

Joker x Harley Quinn - The OG problematic ship. Stop pretending you didn’t ship it too. I know you did. Being woke will not erase your sins.

[fvrxdrm]

Last Night (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: Infinite Darkness!Leon x GN!Reader

Warning(s): Implied sex

This is about a dream I had a few nights ago. I added a few things at the end bc the ending in my dream didn’t make sense but I’ll explain it later at the end notes.

*****

“Ugh! She’s a fucking headache!”

The coolness of the air conditioning in the briefing room dried up the remaining sweat on your back and forehead and your hands went disgustingly sticky with the clamminess clinging into your palm. Fatigued and dozy you were, you were sure you were going to pass out right there in your seat.

You, along with your partner, Leon, were tasked to save Ashley Graham again, this time in a more urban part of Italy. When the president told you about her getting kidnapped again, you legit rolled your eyes and Leon nudged your side when he saw the subtle gesture you displayed. Had Leon had the audacity to disrespect people who had higher power than him in his line of work, he would’ve flipped the president off and took the both of you to a nearby bar. He wasn’t like that though, much to your dismay. He still had that “mama’s boy” attitude in him even when he left some of it during his “rookie day” or night or something.

You were close to rioting that time. They were going to send you to that fucking mission again with only the two of you and hand you both shitty-ass pistols with ten fucking bullets. Who the fuck does that? Wouldn’t you send the whole team if you, the president of the United fucking States, had a daughter that’s been kidnapped? Also, why the fuck didn’t they enhance the fucking security level? Hello? Parenting 101?

Leon crashed onto the couch beside you, making you bounce a bit, before shaking his hair from the grease and dampness his locks held. “Agreed. I might’ve lost my ears right there…again,” he grunted as he stretched his arms above his head and managed to pop a few joints in the process. “Wanna grab a few drinks after this?”

With your head leaned against the back of the couch, you turned to look at your friend with jaded eyes and a lazy smile. You nodded in response and slapped a hand on his thigh. “Sure.”

*****

You may or may not have had one too many drinks and danced around like a fucking worm on crack. Leon had one of his arms wrapped around your waist and a glass of whiskey in his free hand as he ground against your skirt-clad ass while you responded back with the same enthusiasm as him. Both of you were drunk, that’s for sure. Not only with pure intoxication, but also with a sinful desire; something you two unknowingly shared on nights where fingers worked their magic to bring you both to a blissful high. You knew they weren’t enough to satisfy your wants, but they were enough to calm your racing thoughts temporarily instead of committing to a one-time thing and bringing awkwardness in the atmosphere, at least you thought it would’ve been a one-time thing.

Leon whispered naughty things into your ear, things he wouldn’t have said had he been conscious enough to stop himself from making a move, and boldly dipped a finger in your skirt and rubbed your pussy through your underwear. He was going to make love to you, he said, and he would make sure that you would be his. You bit your lip as you moaned at his words. He was hot and you would gladly let him fuck you anytime, anywhere. And so, you agreed.

*****

Ring. Ring. Ring.

The provoking sound of your phone pulled you away from your dream. Your fantasy was so close to getting to the good part. Leon was about to fucking kiss you and then somebody decided to fucking wake you up! You sighed. If somebody woke you up this early then you guessed it was really important. So, despite being piqued and groggy from the sudden sound, you picked your phone up from the night stand beside your bed, not even thinking about how different your room looked, and checked the time before answering the call. “Hello?” You spoke, your voice raspy and your throat feeling like a thousand knives were stabbed into it. You also took note of how your head felt like you were banging it against the wall with so much speed and vigor and attempted to ease it down with a simple massage but to no avail.

“Morning, Y/N!”, the voice from the other line boomed, causing your agonizing condition to aggravate even more.

Ashley

You groaned at the contrasting enthusiasm the girl had and you had to slam the phone on the mattress to ground yourself and keep you from dying. “Can you keep your voice down? I have a headache right now and it would be much appreciated if you could calm down,” you said after bringing your device back to your ear.

“Oh, sorry. I was just going to ask if you could meet me in the church later? I wanted to talk to you about something while we get everything set for my wedding tomorrow. I tried calling Leon, but he wouldn’t answer. Can you do me a favor of telling him about it too?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call him.”

“Thanks, Y/N! I’ll see you later,” she said. The call ended with a series of beeps and you slammed your phone on the bed again with your eyes shut tight in irritation.

I cannot deal with that girl again. Especially now that I’m hungover… But who am I to deny the president’s fucking daughter…?

You sighed.

Welp, time to call Leon.

You raised your phone up parallel to your face and was about to press Leon’s saved contact name when you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your torso. Your heart pounded. With eyes opened wide and brain waking up from its slumber in an instant, you slowly turned your head towards your left and almost screamed at what you saw…or rather who you saw.

Leon.

His chest was exposed to the warmth of the morning air, hair strands clamped together by oil and sweat that was starting to form on his skin. He was still deep in his slumber and you noticed how the round bulge tucked in his eyelids moved around as if he was exploring something in his dream.

Never had you and Leon shared a bed together. Those times where he would come over to your place for a drink? He would always insist that he could just crash into your couch in order to avoid invading your privacy.

You panicked at the situation you were in. You grabbed the hem of your blanket and yanked it up to check if anything did happen, and surprise, surprise; something did. You were both naked and you felt something drying up down there. You also started taking notice of how your vagina felt sore from probably getting pounded and fucked silly last night-

Oh, right! Last night.

You vaguely remembered how Leon touched your body while you two were getting drunk. You two were getting a bit too flirty and began groping each other here and there, getting more and more suggestive as minutes passed, pie-eyed and unconscious with how you were treating each other as more than friends.

Every corner and every wall your eyes passed was becoming a void of something dark, something you became anxious of. What happened would forever change your friendship and your relationship with him for sure. Hell, you weren’t even sure if he was going to stay by your side starting from when he wakes up in a few minutes. And as much as you wanted to go back and prevent that from happening, you couldn’t, and you had to face the music whether you liked or not.

*****

Sure enough, when you woke Leon up, everything was awkward. No words were exchange from when you prepared for the day, breakfast, and until Leon drove you both to the location Ashley had told you to go to. The silence rose hysteria in both of your minds. You were going fucking crazy. You were fidgety when you sat beside Leon in the passenger seat and the man would bounce his leg up and down when you hit a red light. You both were trying to avoid taking a glance at each other, but those inevitable moments that you did, you would forcefully smile at each other and then gaze back out the window again. That was the cycle you lived on for a few hours and you decided to let it stay like that until one of you broke the atmosphere.

You waited inside the church as you were told. It was only the two of you inside but you acted like a handful of people were sitting beside you with the amount of space that was left unfilled between you. You were biting your lip and focusing on the pillars and stones that made up the building until you couldn’t process anything that was happening anymore and stood up, studying the interior as you roamed. “Hey,” you heard somebody whisper behind you. You looked down to your wrist when you felt something warm and saw a fairly large hand loosely gripping onto it before looking up to see Leon’s eyes gazing into yours. You nearly got lost in them but thankfully, he spoke before you got stuck into your own stupor. “I just wanna say… I’m sorry. I-it’s not gonna change everything that happened but I don’t want to break what we have. I value you and our friendship too much for me to let it go. I don’t think we can forget about last night but if it makes you feel better…I-I-“

“Can we talk about this outside? I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to talk about it here,” you chuckled. Leon nodded in agreement before leading you out to where a garden caught your attention. “Listen Leon, I know we can’t just pretend nothing happened but… I don’t wanna let go of this either. I value this as much as you do and it would be crazy stupid for me just to just hate you for something we weren’t even conscious about or something,” you said. You both laughed in relief as the weight on your shoulders dissipated into thin air before you placed a gentle palm on his cheek. Again, no words were shared but this time, no anxiety was present. Instead, you felt like this was an intimate moment only the two of you shared. Something was being written in the stars and you saw every word the gods wrote in the eyes of the person in front of you both.

As cheesy as it sounded, you two felt like magnets were pulling you towards each other, physically and mentally, and in a matter of seconds, you found your lips being pressed against Leon’s.

It was like you were recreating what happened last night without even knowing the details, except this was slower, more sensual, and certainly more emotional, and you couldn’t help the tears that flowed freely against your cheeks.

“Come on, let’s ditch Ashley. Maybe we could relive what happened last night?”

*****

Okay, so in my dream, Ashley’s not getting married and she didn’t call me. Instead, what happened was after the bar scene, Leon and I got teleported in front of the altar and just fucking talked. And then we walked outside and what happened in the end of this fic happened in my dream. Lol.

I rushed this bc I’m tired.

[carolap53]

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

--John 1:1

What does “the Word was God” in today’s verse mean? It means “face to face with God.” It describes the most intimate kind of communion and union.

Christ left the intimacy and “face-to-faceness” with God… He left the glory of heaven and the majesty of God’s presence… and came to earth.

Think about that for a moment. Jesus left heaven to be born in a stable… to walk among men on the dirty streets of Galilee. He lived and died and rose again as a human being.

Isn’t it amazing that God would walk among us? But why would He do this?

He did it because He loves you and me… and He wants you and me to come into a personal relationship with Him. But because we are separated from God by our sin, we can't know God or experience God or get near to God in His absolute holiness. So God came near. He came down in the person of Jesus Christ and paid the price for our sin by dying on the cross.

So let me ask you, how have you responded to Jesus Christ in your life?

If you’ve accepted Him your personal Lord and Savior, I praise God that you’ve made the best decision you will ever make. But if you haven’t made this decision, what’s stopping you from accepting God’s free gift of eternal life right now?

QUITE SIMPLY: GOD PAID THE PRICE FOR OUR SIN BY DYING ON THE CROSS.

Jack Graham