#i need help and to be studied cuz naw.

[stary-darlin]

Why did I just notice that I'm always inlove or like fictional characters with either bright blue eyes that you could use as a lamp or other eye colors that are so gorgeous scrumlicous yummylicious... hm...idk either. BUT YOLO IG ITS MY TYPE OR SUM

[incarnateirony]

God it's 2024 an I think only just now did Shealyn realize, I was never doing Fucking Magic. I wasn't doing Witch Shit. Hence her inability to understand it. Because it wasn't made up horse shit off of whatever she believed on the day. It was like, an actual process and science and a whole bucket of quarter-century study on everything from psychology to piezoelectrism.

It's why you can't copy me, bitch. Your weird fuckin body pillow of my roleplay avatar you groomed your cult into humping like a psychopath is Mister Magic Octopus Man. You got that bitch confused with Psychotherapy somehow. Fix it.

You can't have a motherfucking universe where everything I or anyone else ever knew about him or his philosophy is wrong EXCEPT for my roleplay avatar's face, that shit's right, but naw, you can throw the rest in the trash, make up your own shit (well you don't, you literally stole anime jibberish cuz you can't even make up your own shit), wave your hands and delulu through with "ANYONE CAN PRACTICE HOW THEY WANT" bitch you are literally losing your mind, that's not magic and that's not practice, that's fucking dementia.

Get on some fucking antipsychotics. The anime octopus voices aren't gods, you're not possessed, you're not channeling, you didn't receive divine fucking rumpocky revelation, lemons are not powerful curses, you're just an early stage disassociative identity disorder that's floated under the radar. Schizophrenia, Shealyn. It's Schizophrenia.

Don't argue with me, fucking stop, and Mark, stop enabling this delusional shit. Let her argue about Jung to her fucking psychiatrist, even if you have to knock her out and drag her in involuntarily at this point.

You're all holding on to this absolutely batshit delusion because 1. she's basically been violating all of us and you don't want to deal with that but 2. you believed her fucking commands of the anime octopus god completely justifying the horse shit you all did to me 3. this would make you morally responsible for so much shit you will never let yourself face, top to bottom, but definitely starting at contributing to her coming apart at the seams this bad.

Like go grab a chunk of her ripped out hair and look at it. You did that. She didn't used to be like that. When you walked in for my sloppy seconds, she wasn't fucking like that, and you fucking know that. She had beautiful horse mane shit going on. You did some absolutely vile garbage to me because you didn't understand her, so I don't expect you to have any empathy for me since you proved you lack that already, but if you claim to love this woman, fucking HELP HER, and that's not enabling this shit. But no. No, then, you have to look at it. She's ripping out her motherfucking hair because she's a ball of fucking psychosis and anxiety that keeps trying to play a game to fill a void she can't replace and you keep letting her separate herself from her accountability or grieving processes with this horse shit so she's literally losing her fucking cracker and it's your fault.

So you're just... you're just gonna let her keep being like this.

You're all monsters, huh?

A pack of emotional vultures following around a schizoid spewing 2001 anime wisdom and becoming her attack dogs and somehow NOT recognizing you're acting like a cult, by literal and I do mean the literal definition of a cult.

Where she can make up whatever she wants and you guys guzzle it and laugh off the idea of actually reading another book, or even one core to what she's claiming. It's a cult, mark, and she has you on my dick, and she needs involuntary.

I don't care what lie you have to fucking tell yourself to cope with the fact that she's still after my dick this hard and using you as a proxy for me, okay, I fucking don't, but get this insane fat bitch medicated, this is definitionally nuts dude. Stop roleplaying with her or "channeling" for a few months. Just be like, you two, living together in real life, as you, and nobody else. See what motherfuckin happens.

Now ask yourself why I know about this shit, dude. How is it I know what she does with her Channeling, how is it I know she's humping you as/with/for me basically. Well because motherfucking Aaron Eema who she visualizes is me, my fucking roleplay character. It's either Me or Not Real At All, take your pick depending on perspective. And because she tried that shit with me and got confused why it just made me stop "practicing" around her. Any time she wasn't getting enough digital attention in RP it'd become channeling rp attention, but she didn't understand how clearly she was fucking it up, much like here in octopus language fetish land y'all are stuck sitting in rn. You're not special, the gods haven't taken an interest in you specifically, you're not screwing deities, you're just the next sucker in line that she glued my face on and is calling it magic. If you've been groomed into thinking you "sense" anything she's talking about, that's probably my astral cock she's had you tugging on.

[mysteriouslee]

Sister bonding time

Owl House time baby

Prompt 25 26 27 and 28

also sister au Lucia- Beta Luz she/her bisexual Luka- Pilot Luz She/They Bisexual

me and my friend @mysteriousblogger though that since the sisters are in the same universe they can't all like the Blights cuz if Luz marries Amity then the others will become family so

the sisters, they are all switches

Eda is a Ler

Let us commence

Luz was grumpy today, she failed her test in potions and Boscha tripped her down the stairs, Luz just plopped onto her bed in a sad pout

Luka: hey sis what's going on here

Luz only mumbled

Lucia: what's gotcha down Luz

Luz: It's just I hate Boscha

Lucia: Woah strong words there, where did this Luz come from and why didn't they come out sooner

Luka: this isn't funny Lucia, Luz are you ok

Luz: I also failed my potions test

Luka: aww man Luz we studied it for hours

Luz started to cry and wave of sympathy hit her sisters

Lucia: woah woah kiddo, no need to cry

Luka: sorry for yelling at ya Luz, please don't cry

Luz: I just feel so stupid

Lucia: you aren't stupid Luz

Luka: have more faith in yourself, in fact i don't like that you are talking about yourself that way, I think she needs to be taught a lesson

Luz attempted to squirm away because she knew what was about o happen but Luka had her in a tight

Lucia: Hey hooty can ya lend me a feather

Hooty: sure hoot hoot

after hooty left Luka and Lucia had Luz pinned between them on the floor

Luz: guys wait lets talk about this

Luka: we alright then Luz we are gonna tickle you til you feel better got it

Lucia: yup now let's begin

Luz: wait let's

Luka: talk about it, but we already did

Lucia took the feather and tickled Luz's neck and ears and the hispanic otter with a dark side let out giggles

Luka then started to squeeze her sides and ribs

Luz: nohoho guys stahahap

Luka: never muahaha

Lucia: we don't approve of your strong words

Luka: but you use strong words all the time though

Lucia: I'm trying to prove something to Luz no shut up dumbass

Luka: gasp you wound my soul

Lucia: I'll wound more than your soul, better yet

Luka was pushed to the ground a pinned to floor then Luz's foot was trapped between Lucia's thighs

Lucia caressed the feather on Luz's foot while Lucia clawed on Luka's tummy

Luka: Lucihahaha Fahahahwk nohoho

Lucia: such language, you hearin this Luz

Luz: stohohop Luciahaha

Lucia: stop what

Luz: im nohot fallin fohohor thahahat

Lucia pinned Luka's arms over head and moved the feather in her hollows and then Lucia began scribbling on the back of Luz's knee

Luka: stahahap stahahap

Lucia: Luz do ya feel better

Luz: yehehes now plehehease merceehehe

Lucia: hmm you don't convince me Amity simp

Luz: >:0

Lucia: Luka I'll stop if you tell me I'm a higher being than you and you are a skater flower simp

Luka: >:0

Luka: nohoho

Lucia: all right then tickle tickle tickle

Lucia let out bunches of teases and switched her tickling techniques around their body, she eventually let Luz go out of pity but still had Luka to her mercy

Luka: lehehet go

Lucia: then say what I want you to say

Luka: n-no

Lucia: all right

Lucia: I wonder if should call Winona (pilot willow) over and let your little girlfriend see you like this

Luka: no!! all right I'm a skater flower simp

Lucia: and?

Luka: and you are a shitty being beneath me

Luka only stuck out her tongue

Lucia: tsk tsk- what! Luz what are you

Luz: revenge!!

Luka jumped up quickly and joined Luz in trapping the older

Luz: now its your turn

Luka: just admit that you called Eda mom last week

Luz: she said that

Luka: yeah, you were too busy on a date with Amity to know

Luka: just admit and we'll let ya go

Lucia: screw off

Eda: thats not very nice, it looks like you can barely contain her so let me help

Eda turned into a harpy and got right to work on Lucia

Lucia squeaked and let out giggles due to Eda's fast fingers and her feathers attacking her

Lucia: Edahaha get offa mehehe

Eda: naw

Lucia: leahehehve me alone

Eda: you didn't your siblings so why should I

Lucia: im sohohorry im begheheging ya to stohop

Luka: damn you even got her saying sorry, mind if we join in

Eda: the more the merrier

Lucia: nooooooooooo

Luka attacked Lucia's hips as did to her knees

Lucia: ya kihihling mehehe

Eda: just call me mom and I'll let ya go

Luz and Luka: ooohhhhhhhhh

Eda: you two as well

Eda had now double crossed the younger two and began tickling them too

Luz: betryahahal

Eda: now bow before and except your fates

Luka: stop stop staahahap

Eda: you know to do

the three siblings in unison: NEVER

Eda: well then-

Raine: hey guys, bye guys

Eda: where do you think you're going Rainstorm

Raine only looked back with a look that says you kids owe me now run

The girls took Raine's advice and escaped through the window

[bebepac]

WIP 06.17.2020

Another WIP Wednesday is upon us, and I’m back to work.   I work the next 4 days (Wed-Sat)  so i’ll try my best to work on these stories and get them out, as always I will try, but can’t make any promises. I usually don’t have to work Saturdays, but unfortunately this one I do, so that eats into my writing time, which when I’m working, I do a lot of my writing time on the weekend.   

I am working on my last chapter of Scar Tissue before the Epilogue!  Whaaaaat?!?!??!??!!?!?  Thank you to everyone that’s liked, commented and shared this one.  As It’s the first series I have completed.   I’m sure if you messaged me about this story line, you guys know, my intent for Scar Tissue in the beginning was it to be a once shot, then I kept feeling like it had more potential, and then it evolved on me.  

What are my fellow writers up to?!?!!? 

Tagging: @queenjilian @burnsoslow @loveellamae  @dcbbw @bbrandy2002 @nomadics-stuff @kimmiedoo5 @cordonianroyalty @cordonia-gothqueen @lodberg @glaimtruelovealways @custaroonie @texaskitten30 @janezillow @atha68 @my0123456789universe @kaitycole @indiacater @losingbraincellseveryday @furiousherringoperatortoad @marietrinmimi @hopefulmoonobject @annekebbphotography @sevenfuckslefttogive @ac27dj @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @ritachacha @mrsdrakewalkerblog @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @islandcrow @axwalker @sanchita012 @queenwalton @flutistbyday2020  @the-soot-sprite @gabesmommie1130 @mom2000aggie @jared2612 @gibbles82  @thanialis @ramseysno1rookie @lovablegranny @hopelessromanticmonie @datynasuha @storylineofnothing @coolpsychicempathhumanoid @cordoniaqueensworld  @iaminlovewithtrr@thatdoctorownsme @seriallover99 @drake-colt-lover-99 @amandablink @kaishamarley @choiceswhodunnit @marshmallowsandfire @yukinagato2012 @princessemberphoenix @random-blog-of-random-stuff-etc @princess-of-fuckup​ @batgirlassociationofgothamcity​

First up we have:

This is Who I Am

My Country is Burning Chapter 3

Bebe was completely exasperated.  “Ellie! What is that in your hair?!?!?!?!?"

“I’m sorry Mommy."

"Is it chewing gum?"

"Yes, I fell asleep."

“With chewing gum in your mouth?”

Liam chuckled.   Both of them had agreed Ellie was more like him, with her mannerisms and her seriousness. Maybe Ellie was a little bit like Bebe too.  Bebe could fall asleep anywhere.  When Bebe was pregnant with Christopher, she fell asleep mid sentence, talking to him, while eating an ice cream cone. It was only when the ice cream started melting down her hand, Liam woke her up.  He thought it was hilarious,  pregnant Bebe did not, and cried because it was a waste of good mint chocolate chip ice cream.

“Yes.” Ellie nodded.

“Where did you even get chewing gum from?”

“Uncle Maxwell.”

"He hasn't been here in two weeks?"

"He gave me the whole pack."

She noticed Liam walk out of the room.

"Go get it and bring it here."

"But Mommy…."

"Right now Eleanor Alexandria Rys."

Little Ellie stormed off, just as Liam walked in the room.

"Where's she going?"

"To get the gum your friend gave her."

"Don’t look at me like that Bebe. Technically, that's your brother you know, since  House Beaumont sponsored you."

"I don't want to cut her hair Liam, she has such beautiful hair."

"You're not. Besides it's just hair. It will grow back."

Liam set the jar of peanut butter next to the comb.

"I mean it's different with Black hair. My hair doesn't grow nearly as fast as her's.  Just the thought of us cutting her hair upsets me. Because in the Black World, our children have good hair."

"Is there such a thing as evil hair?"  Liam played with Bebe's own curls, making scary, monster sounds. Bebe swatted Liam’s hand away from her hair.

"Yes there is, well bad hair.  There has always been a negative connotation that darker skinned people’s hair is more coarse and thick, and harder to manage."

"Your hair isn't like that."

"I'm lucky. Without chemicals in my hair, when I wet it, it curls, or coils, just like our children's hair does. Not every Black person’s hair does that."

"Mine curls like that too, well it gets wavy."

"Yes, but we have different textures, Liam.  My hair is more coarse than their hair, and the kid's hair is softer, than mine, but not as soft as your hair."

Ellie came back to the room in a huff. She handed Bebe the gum. Bebe raised her eyebrow giving her the Mad Mommy look.

"Miss Crown Princess, Queen Mommy is not liking that little attitude right now. It had better change fast."

"Mommy means business Ellie." Liam said as backup. 

Liam looked at their daughter, who her face was still pink, with her arms crossed over her chest, with a sour, pouty look on her face.  Even with her little mad face, he thought she was the most beautiful little girl in the world.  No wonder he was the pushover, when it came to disciplining the children.  Every time he looked at their children, he always thought that they made such beautiful children together.  

"What are we going to do about her hair?"

"I already got it. Peanut butter. As many times as I got gum in my hair as a kid thanks to Leo.  Ellie come here, Daddy will fix it."

Ellie looked back at Bebe. "Daddy, Mommy always does my hair. Do you know how?"

Liam's face registered shock, looking at Bebe for help.

"Daddy knows how to do this part to get the gum out, and Mommy will show him how to do the rest."

Liam pulled Ellie onto his lap, and worked the peanut butter around the gummed parts in Ellie's hair. Waiting for a few minutes then gently using the comb to get the gum out.

"Now we just have to wash it, so Daddy won't get hungry and add apple jelly to it too, and eat you up!"

He made munching sounds at Ellie as he kissed her cheek, causing her to giggle. He picked her up in his strong arms. Bebe followed them to  Ellie's bathroom.

  ^*^*^*^*^* next story *^*^*^*^*^*

A Couple of Firsts 

Pop’s Place Chapter 3

“So since your plan is for us to catch our dinner, I packed us lunch, Drake. Cuz there is no way in hell my F.A. is going to be on a boat all day starving to death. “

Drake laughed. “Don’t call yourself that Mia.”  

She slapped her thighs.  “What do you call that?”

“Sexy as hell.”  He kissed Mia’s lips.  

“Smart Man.”  Mia giggled.

“I packed roast beef and cheese sandwiches,  turkey and cheese, and because i’m a kid at heart, some PB & J  as well. Some chips, some fruit, and sodas and water.”  

“Damn girl, we are not trying to live on this lake for a week, and what kind of J?”

“My favorite, apple jelly.”

“Mine too Mia.”    

“I just wanted you to have some choices. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I packed a little bit of everything.”  

Drake smiled.  He’d never had someone care so much about what he thought before.  

“I’m low maintenance that way, I’ll eat anything.  Turkey and cheese is fine, so is roast beef, even PB & J.  Hell I’d eat one of each, if there was extra.”

“She smiled, you’re going out with a cook’s daughter, there’s always extra. That’s how we roll.”  

She put the cooler on the table.  Drake laughed.

“Where the hell did you find a hot pink igloo cooler at?”

“The  Gentral, where else?” 

( author’s note:  The Gentral = Dollar General, a store that seems to be on every corner in the south, and you that was Walgreens, naw bro. It’s a Southern Thing, does a hilarious video where they are Dollar General execs, and they find out that they are not building new DG stores, that they are building themselves. HILARIOUS )

Drake smiled.  “You 'bout ready?”  

Mia grabbed her hot pink sunglasses.  “I’m ready now!”

 *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^* next story *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The Recovery

Scar Tissue Chapter 13 

Riley and Liam had been going to therapy for almost 9 weeks.  They had therapy sessions separately as they were dealing with separate things, and marriage counselling sessions together.

They walked in the office holding hands.  They never walked into the therapy room holding hands.  They were usually so tense, and nervous.  The therapist noted this as a positive step in the right direction as they had taken baby steps.  

Dr. Murdoch looked at the two of them.  

“How have things been since last week?  Queen Riley would you like to start?”

“Things went okay.  We moved back into our chambers from my old room this past week.  I’m sleeping through the night completely there, so is Liam.  I’m not having those panicky feelings in the room anymore like I'm being watched.”

“That’s good to hear  Queen Riley.  Did you do two complete the date nights I assigned?

“Yes and no.”

“The dinner date went great, I really had a nice time with Liam. It was just so nice just being the two of us, and we danced, and it was beautiful.”  

“So then the massage date didn’t go well then?”

“I have no problems when I touch him, but I clammed up when he touched me.”

“Because of Drake?”  Dr. Murdoch asked.

“Yes.”

Riley is it okay for me to go to Liam for a little bit to talk to him about things?”

Riley nodded.

She could tell by Liam’s body language he was angry and frustrated after what she had said.  

“I don't know what else I can do Dr. Murdock.  He studied what I did so he could use it against my wife, to make her think he was me,  and now he’s turned her against me.  It’s like he has tainted everything I’ve done, because he copied me so perfectly with her.  And I love my wife, and I just want to be able to make love to her again.  Laying next to her and not being able to touch her intimately is killing me.  The last time we tried to make love,  She screamed.  My wife screamed because I was touching her!!!!!!  Our guards burst into the room thinking she was being attacked.”  We haven’t been intimate in over 4 months now.  I miss her.” 

“You think I don’t miss you Liam?  Of course I miss you. I still want you.”

“THEN YOU SHOULD TRY HARDER!!!!”

“I AM TRYING LIAM!!!  WHEN YOU TOUCH ME, I SEE HIS FACE!!!!”

“We’re going to take a break.  King Liam,  I need you to step out a few minutes, so I can have a few minutes alone with Queen Riley okay?”

Liam got up and walked out slamming the door behind him.

“I don’t know if we’re going to make it through this. Dr. Murdock because I can't let him touch me. He needs a level of intimacy, I can’t give him.  I’ve even thought about asking him if there is anyone he wants to go into a Cordonian Agreement with, until I am able to give him what he needs again.”

“No, Queen Riley, that's not the answer.  I’m afraid if you go that route, it will permanently drive a wedge between the two of you.  You have to work through this together.  Can I ask you a question?”

*^*^*^*^*^*^* end of chapter teasers *^*^*^*^*^*

[anxiousauthor89]

The Clue

As a student only trying to stay outta mamas house, having a baby just didn't fit in the picture. Not just for her. That shit aint work for him either. A real deal Floridian with a smart ass mouth and a super quick brain, long thick hair wit a funky ass walk. Trinity was known for the slick words that unmercifully bounced off her lips. Sometimes saying too much even when other people told her not to. But he liked it. He eyeballed her as she stood next to her friend that she came with. She looked around in slight disgust while he counted up a few racks while throwing bags on the scale. This wasn't her idea of fun. She just came with a friend. But she couldn't help but watch him as he was watching her. And she stopped all motion by saying "He cant count. That aint right." The entire room got quiet. "What she said?" Shawn sat up fast, and everyone looked nervous. This man was nothing to be played with...or so the streets said. But she didn't care. While her friend tried to shut her up she blurted out "You cant count. What you just said is wrong." He looked her up and down while silently wondering who the fuck she think she is....but went ahead and recounted anyway. To his surprise she was damn right. Her friend attempted to apologize for the outburst, but he held up his hand and said "Naw. She good." Then he looked over and said "come sit here" patting the other chair. She sat quietly, looking, and listening. Not knowing he was waiting for everyone to leave because he had plans. He saw a business partner in her. And he knew all the hoes felt like he had the best dick in the city so he had no worries about getting rejected in the bedroom. But what he didn't know is that he had a real master mind on his hands. She knew what he wanted. However, she wanted to appear a wholesome woman. A lady. If you will. So she held out. But he was still heavy on her trail. The morning dates became an everyday thing and when night fell the trap was closing down. Candles got lit, Anita Baker blasted thru the speaker and nobody saw them til the next breakfast date. The two had become close. He knew all about her over religious family and why she left home and she knew all about his dark past that followed him all the way to her. Aint no breaking up. Especially for him. He had plans. Big ones. A few months roll by, and she tells him she's feeling sick. She searches the kitchen for a clue on what made her so damn sick. He gave her this look and told her "drink some water". Her feelings instantly got hurt, but she kept quiet for a moment before asking "You love me right?' He rolled his eyes and replied "mhm why? Don't start no shit just cuz yo stomach hurt I feel fine do not start with me." She got in his face and said "Cuz all I need to see is that you don't and Im gone." Trinity had no idea why she said that. She kept a poker face while studying her intuition. Something was off. Instantly he was annoyed and rushed to leave. He ran out so fast he dropped the burner phone. The one she was never supposed to answer. And just like the devil would have it, the phone rung. She tried not to answer but curiosity said "fuck that you his lady pick it up!” "Hello?" An angry voice of a younger woman was on the other end.  "I did it ok?! I got rid of it! Tell dat punk ass nigga I did it! & he will never touch this pussy again!" Trinity smirked and said "welp, glad I aint you bitch" as she hung up on the scorned woman. But there was no way she could deny reality. In that moment everything made sense. Why she sees a black car ride by every night. Why she cant answer that phone. Why she found panties that he said were purchased for her, only they were the wrong size & clearly had been worn before. It all made so much sense. She knew he had a strict rule about not having babies. He didn't want any. Ever. But damn you really let this girl kill your baby....a part of her was in shock. She immediately lost all respect for him and wanted out right away. But she was so deep in....and she loves him. She sat there plotting to escape or set him up. She knew to be careful. Shawn could and would find her wherever she ran. Then she thought "is this why im sick? Cuz this nigga aint right? My body tryna warn me?"  She laid down, hoping to ease the pounding headache she had developed. She started praying saying "God help me I don't know what to think I don't have a clue how im gone get away im so deep in. All I need is one clue ill figure the rest out just give me a clue. I gotta find a way to end this" Stress sweeping over her she finally fell asleep. 4 hours later she felt a kick. Then two more kicks. She just smiled and said "That's the clue."

[pertinax--loculos]

Character Study: Jay (2.1)

[Breaking the second part into two parts of its own, cuz I kinda wanna rework what I wrote for the last two. Additonally, small tweak to the Plan: I’m thinking I’ll probably drop one of the nine prompts I had for each character, to make it an even 4/4 split over the two parts (plus as I’ve been mulling it over it’s basically happened that way naturally anyway lol). CW for swearing, as ever.]

4. Rivals Jay’s position within the Association meant that he was indispensable enough to be able to freelance, at least to an extent. Of course there were jobs he’d never be able to accept – mostly those involving direct competitors – but it was a good enough side hustle, especially because the jobs rarely required more than his equivalent of a mean look. Easy money.

Of course, he was far from the only freelancer in town.

Which resulted in situations like these.

He’d slipped silently into the living room of the guy he was supposed to shake down – some argument, or maybe a debt, Jay was long past asking too many questions – and found a figure poised by the side of the front window. He was well enough concealed that Jay might not have noticed him if it wasn’t for the serendipitous passing of a car, headlights sweeping across the room and throwing the silhouette into sharp relief.

Jay stopped, arranged his face into an easy smirk. “Becker.”

The figure spun around and cursed, colourfully and at length. “Fucking hell,” he finished in a mutter. “How the hell do you always manage to get inside without using a fucking door?”

Jay shrugged as he slinked forward a step. “Trade secret.”

“Right.” Becker had mirrored his forward movement, sliding back a step to maintain the distance between them. He stopped in the slanting light from the street outside; it illuminated him well enough that Jay could see that while his body language remained relaxed, his pale eyes were alert. “So you wanna toss for it?”

Jay’s smirk widened.

He lost the coin toss, which wasn’t great for his reputation, but at least meant that his night was freed up. Plus he got to exit, loudly, through the front door, which was novel in and of itself.

Becker knew as well as he did that it wasn’t the end of it – Becker’s employer would run out of either money or caution sooner rather than later – but neither of them were invested in the tasks beyond the payout. And both of them knew Jay wasn’t one to leave a job unfinished.

But for tonight he’d just revel in the unexpected free time. He ducked into an alley a couple of blocks away, walking around halfway down before he leaned against the wall and fished out his cigarettes. This was territory disputed enough for it to be practically neutral; he wasn’t going to be disturbed by some random dealers.

He was on his third cigarette when he heard footsteps approach. Jay slitted his eyes open just far enough to confirm his suspicion before he tipped his head back against the wall.

Becker drew up a good ten feet away, propping his hip against the skeleton of a long burned-out car. “Got a spare?”

Jay tossed the cigarettes towards him without opening his eyes. “Lemme guess. Appropriately lauded, you truly do live up to your reputation, thank you so much for protecting me, I’m gonna pass your name around to all my friends?”

Becker chuckled around his cigarette. “Usual song and dance.” He made a slight clucking sound, and Jay glanced over to catch the packet as he threw it back. “How pissed d’you reckon they’d be if they found out their safety was predicated on a coin toss?”

“Probably not as pissed as the ones whose delivery of a message is predicated on the same,” Jay said, grinning at him.

Becker ashed his cigarette off to the side, his gaze turning shrewd. “How the hell do you explain to them that you couldn’t do what they asked?”

“What do you mean?”

“Johns.” Becker’s voice was dry. “You gotta know the kinda reputation you have. With a rep like that, I’d imagine all your prospective employers expect you to get the job done.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, letting his smile sharpen into more of a smirk. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Oh, shut up.” Becker rolled his eyes. “You’re a fucking ghost, Johns. No signs of entry or exit, nothing broken, not so much as a hair out of place unless you want it that way. How do you do all that and then sell a failure to someone who’s paying you?”

“Ah, you gotta factor in failures,” Jay said, glancing down as he tapped the end of his cigarette. “It’s the only way to stop them from asking you to do the impossible. Plus,” – he looked back up to smirk at Becker again – “I gotta leave some work for the rest of you guys.”

Becker’s mouth quirked as he took a drag. “Naw, c’mon. I can get work on my own merits.”

“Only because I’m modulating my reputation,” Jay said gravely.

Becker snorted. “Maybe we should test your theory then. I could totally take you.”

“You fucking wish,” Jay retorted. “Apparently your recollection of our initial encounter has been altered by time. Do we need to refresh your memory?” He flicked his cigarette away and straightened; he didn’t miss the corresponding tension that lanced through Becker’s frame.

“Yeah, no,” he said, eyeing Jay carefully. “Two weeks in the hospital is not something I wanna repeat.”

“See? Not just a pretty face.” Jay flashed his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’d better get going. Got some stupid fucking rendezvous I gotta chaperone.”

Becker raised his eyebrows. “Off of Murphy’s? Two am?”

Jay huffed some air out his nose in a half-laugh as he started to turn away. “Guess I’ll see you there.”

“Better me than Wyatt.”

Jay glanced over his shoulder as he walked, his smile more genuine than he normally allowed. “Better you than anybody, really.”

“Don’t forget you still owe me a drink,” Becker called after him.

Jay laughed, loud and deliberate and a little too sincere. “Don’t forget you still owe me your life.”

Becker’s answering laugh trailed him out of the alley.

5. Skills Grant very nearly startled when Johns sauntered through the door less than an hour after he'd left. He just managed to conceal the reaction, spoke without looking up. "That was fast."

Johns's reply was haughty. "I told you it was a simple job."

Grant didn't bother hiding his response to that; he leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen between his fingers, and gave Johns an incredulous stare.

Johns met his gaze as he sauntered another couple of steps into the room, and Grant had to fight not to wince. The man carried himself with an arrogance that bordered on sickening, made worse by the fact it was entirely justified.

"The other... contractors I approached didn't seem to think it was so simple," Grant said, when Johns showed no signs of elaborating.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, the beginning of that signature smirk. "Should've approached me first."

"You're fucking expensive, Johns. I'm not gonna pay your rates if I can avoid it." Grant tried not acknowledge the fact he was lying; if half the stuff he'd heard about Jay Johns was true, he'd notice any deception. The only thing Grant really had going for him was that there was no reason for Johns to think he was anything but another client.

And that seemed to be working in his favour; Johns raised one shoulder, let it drop. "You get what you pay for."

"I can assume then that you have the item?"

Johns's eyes rolled upwards momentarily, before he stalked far enough forward to place a small box at the end of the table. Grant couldn't help himself tensing, and judging from the shape of Johns's smile, he didn't miss it.

"As promised," he drawled, entirely at ease. He twisted one hand almost idly, and a phone shimmered into being between his fingers. "Payment?"

"Will be wired when I confirm the authenticity," Grant said, pulling off a passably indifferent air.

The phone was replaced by a knife with incredible swiftness. Grant shifted just enough that he could stand without being impeded by the table.

"What." Johns's gaze was as flat as his voice.

"This is not some drug dealer spat," Grant said as evenly as he could. "An item like this requires verification. Surely you know that."

Somehow Johns managed to give the impression he was abruptly closer than he had been, even though Grant was certain he hadn't seen him move. He tried not to acknowledge the sudden thrum of his pulse in his ears.

"You'd better not try to screw me," Johns said, his voice dangerously pleasant.

"Please." Grant realised his pen had stilled; he resumed twirling it as he continued. "We're both professionals. You'll get your payment."

"Good." Johns stared at him for a long moment, and then turned and started for the door. He hesitated in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. "Cuz I know where you live."

Grant had relaxed enough that he was able to snort dismissively. "I don't live here, Johns."

"Oh, I know." That damned smirk was back, wide enough to show a flash of teeth. "You live over on Monaro Drive. Lovely little bungalow. Your roses are doing real well this year."

Well that was fucking unnerving. Grant didn't have the presence of mind to hide his shock; there was no way -- no way -- Johns could possibly know that.

The fucker's smirk was broad enough to nearly be called a grin. "Hope I don't see you again, Grant." He winked, and then he was gone.

An embarrassingly long few minutes passed before Grant recovered enough to pull out his phone. The woman answered on the second ring.

"So?"

"Forty-three minutes," Grant said, leaning over to pull the box towards him. He cracked it open to peer at the contents, unnecessarily. "And Deidre? He fucking knows where I live."

There was a pause. Grant was vaguely gratified that that seemed to have thrown her as well.

"It's okay," she said finally. "It's not gonna be a problem for much longer."

"You'd better fucking hope so." Grant glanced towards the front door, and then down at the box again. "Regardless, let me know when they've got him in custody."

"You wanna make contact?"

"Fuck no." Three different security systems, seven guards, lead-lined vault. It'll take a savant to do this in less than ninety minutes. Unless he can walk through walls. "But I think I'm gonna stay in a hotel until then."

[thegodthief]

My hubris caught up with me and I took a nap this afternoon. I dreamt of an oil well rig being set up in the middle of Fuck You County (some back-ass part of Texas) in an area that the First Nations peoples had warned was No Good™.

The first week of drilling was one broken thing after another. If it was a hose, is burst or got clogged. If it was a pipe or a shaft, it broke. If it was electrical, it fried. Every day some poor soul passed out from heat stroke despite all the legitimately best efforts by the foreman to keep his men safe. The second week was double the first week’s costs.

The Suit (read: upper management) didn’t care about the increasing costs of drilling. He bragged that not only was the rig replaceable, but so were the men, and he didn’t care if it cost them their souls to get the well dug, that well better be dug on time because the projected profits would greatly overcompensate for the financial cost of digging it.

“You willing to bet your soul on that, Sir?”

“What?”

“You said you didn’t care if it cost us our souls, Sir. Do you care if it cost yours?”

“If I could get this well dug and pumping on time, I’ll gladly give up my soul, if anyone could actually find the damn thing first! Ha!”

“We’ll get it done, Sir. We’ll get it done.”

“You better, or your blood is gonna lube the next rig!”

The Suit left with orders to resume drilling but the foreman told everyone to go into town for the night. He paid everyone several hundred dollars cash and said he wasn’t going to ask how it was spent as long as everyone was back on site before 6am. Those who knew him well immediately grabbed the youngbloods and raced away from the site in fearful silence.

The foreman went in the operations trailer and came out with his thermos of coffee. He moved to stand alone on the platform and looked up to the hanging shaft above him, then down into the connected drilling shafts standing still under him. He took off the plain gold chain and crucifix he wore in defiance of the safety rules about jewelry and began fingering the delicate links. He sipped his cold coffee and watched the still dry scenery alone.

The sun set, and he remained standing on the platform. His lips barely moved as he muttered well practiced words to himself and no one in particular.

The night embraced the land and the rig. He had a flashlight clipped to his belt but he had not activated it. The only sources of light were the red safety lights on the console reflecting off his dry unfocused eyes.

A stillness rose off the ground shortly after midnight. As if all of physical existence was trying to lie low and not be noticed. Something was near. Something was listening. Something was reaching for the immobile standing man on the drilling platform. The man held out a glinting thing in his hand and took a breath to speak.

“With Christ as my witness, you heard his offer. His soul for the successful completion of the well. If this is not suitable for you, I give you my treasure for the safekeeping of my men. Let the equipment fail, but touch not those who hold faith in me.”

The glinting thing turned. The red safety lights gave the gold crucifix the appearance of being smothered in blood. The foreman opened his hand, and the crucifix and chain fell into the exposed drilling shaft. Even if it had been caught by the lubrication mud and was recoverable, the moment the drilling resumed, it would be torn into pieces and made part of the lubrication driving the invasive steel deeper into the virgin earth.

The old hands returned to the rig at five in the morning. Each one bore an offering of a full thermos of coffee for the unusually drowsy and pale foreman. A youngblood spied a newly healing scar on the foreman’s exposed arm and pointed in preparation for making an inquiry. He was quickly slapped by the veterans and told to stop making up stories before he earned scars of his own to tell.

The drilling began without harm to men or equipment, but the ground under them fought back. For all the crew’s best efforts, the drilling proceeded slower than anticipated. They were not going to make the deadline at this pace.

A few mornings later, the foreman was studying the readings from the previous day’s work. He wondered if what he gave wasn’t going to be enough this time. He had been warned when he learned the skill that eventually he was going to have to start offering pieces of himself instead of just trapping fools with their own words. His nearly faded scar on his arm itched as he reflected on the piece of himself he already gave, but it looked like he would have to give more.

Instead of the usual offering of coffee from his crew, he heard terrible shouts and a few screams. He grabbed his shotgun and shouldered open the door ready to retaliate against the perceived attack.

“You the foreman? Sorry I’m late, man. I was supposed to be here two days ago, but the ground is really fucking hard to get through. No wonder you’re having problems.”

A large, thick, and muscular… man… dressed only in trousers made of sackcloth stood barefeet at the feet of the stairs leading to the operations trailer. The foreman thought this was the most severe case of sunburn he has ever seen in his life, because the barely dressed man was as red as a cooked lobster from the curled stubby horns on his head to the spaded tail idly sweeping behind him.

The foreman blinked.

Horns.

Tail.

Around the red creature’s neck was a very familiar gold chain and crucifix.

“Yea, I’m the foreman. Call me ‘Fuck’, cuz if I hear anyone yelling that, it better because something is really fucked up or I’ll fuck him up. You the Devil?”

“Nice to meet you, Mister Fuck. Naw, I ain’t the Devil. Just a demon. Assigned to your crew for the duration of the drill. I ain’t got a name like you folk have names, so whatever you wanna call me is good with me.”

“Demons start shit. And I ain’t having that. That weren’t the deal.”

“Unbonded demons start shit, Mister Fuck.” The demon fingered the necklace collaring him. “See this? It’s the mark of a covenant. I ain’t here to start any shit with you, or with the men under you. I’m here to help you dig this well and to dig it on time. I take it you’re a couple days behind already, so I’m here to push you back on time and finish the job. And when the rig is done, I leave, and you and those who hold faith in you remain untouched by me and mine. Someone else’s soul is liened for payment.”

The foreman lowered his shotgun and uncocked it in a show of peace. “Well, ain’t that precious. Yea…. that’s your name. LISTEN UP GUYS! THIS HERE IS PRECIOUS, AND HE’S GONNA GIVE US A HAND. YOU ALL HAVE TWO HOURS TO FIGURE OUT WHERE PRECIOUS IS GOING TO BE BEST AT WORKING AND THEN IF YOU ALL DON’T GIVE ME SOME PROGRESS TO TRACK I’M GONNA THROW ALL OF YOU DOWN THE FUCKING WELL! I figure two hours is gonna be enough time for me to figure out if you’re gonna be first or last down the well if I don’t get some payback on my investment, Precious.”

The eight foot tall demon shifted as he absentmindedly flexed in glee. “You’ll get your payback, Mister Fuck! You’ll see!”

“That’s BOSS FUCK to you! And I don’t see you doing anything other than NOT FUCKING WORKING ON MY RIG!”

“Yea, Boss! On it, Boss!” The demon turned around in preparation for crossing over to the platform but the foreman yelled at him to wait a bit.

“CHRIS! DON’T YOU BE FUCKING HIDING FROM ME NOW CHRIS, I NEED YOUR HEAD OUT YOUR ASS YOU CHICKEN SHIT MOTHERFUCKER! IF I AIN’T SCARED YOU AIN’T GOT NO RIGHT TO BE SCARED EITHER! CHRISTOPHER! DON’T MAKE ME SAY YOUR FULL NAME, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I WILL FEED YOU TO THE WELL!”

The veterans of the crew were a superstitious lot, but they were more afraid of the foreman than of any supernatural force, divine or infernal. Chris pulled his head out of his ass himself from his hiding spot and ran to stand beside Precious. “Yes, Boss!”

“Get Precious some boots and gloves that fit.”

“Eh, Boss, I don’t need….”

“Shut up, Precious. You’re on my fucking crew now, may whatever god or devil you fuck with have mercy on you. And ain’t no damn soul, or any saintly ones either, stepping on my rig without non-slip boots and all-grip gloves. Everything else is on you.”

That command was all the crew needed to be able to accept the demon as an equal among them. (Though the youngbloods had to wash the piss out of their overalls before the veterans let them back on the rig.) Though the foreman gave them two hours to see where the demon Precious would fit best, the crew found their new formation in twenty minutes.

Though Precious handles the pipes like any other roughneck, there was something about the demon personally escorting the pipes into the ground that made the entire procedure flow exceedingly well. By noon, they had already made as much progress as the twenty-four hours prior to Precious’ appearance.

In the days that followed, Precious was a surprising cheery presence on the rig. He told stories about the First Nations peoples that were there before and hinted to why they considered the area to be a cursed place to be avoided. “Some things were buried for a reason, and not just to decay, as if it could decay at all.” He learned new expletives that delighted him, and his laughter at a successful prank shook bones and steel frame alike.

The foreman liked him because he could reheat coffee with just a glance, regardless of the container obscuring direct line of sight.

When the Suit came to inspect progress in person, Precious could not be found. So the Suit saw the men struggling to make any headway against the recalcitrant bedrock just as they had struggled before the demon’s appearance. The arrogant manager felt that hard work made for good servants, and nodded his approval at the excessive toil on men and equipment in his presence.

Precious would reappear after the Suit left, scowling and muttering words that decomposed the gloves and boots he was wearing requiring replacements of both. The moment he laid a hand on the pipe, the process would become smooth and easy again. However, Precious’ mood would not return to its regular gay levity until the next day.

Three days before the deadline, the drilling rig struck the target depth. Veteran, youngblood, and demon all exchanged high fives, chest bumps, and ass slaps. The foreman would not report the success until the test pumping rig was installed. If the flow met a certain level of measurement, then and only then, would the rig be considered complete.

Precious assured the foreman that the flow would be constant after the demon left. There was more than enough pressure under the ground to support demand, the demon said calmly before warning the foreman to expect to use reinforced pumps after his departure. “My presence is tempering more than just resistance.”

The well passed the test, and the results were sent back to corporate headquarters for confirmation. Precious removed his gloves and boots in preparation to leave.

“Well, Fuck. Got a question for ya.”

“What, Precious.”

The demon fingered the gold necklace collaring him. “Want it back?”

The witnessing crew held their breath. This was more than just about the necklace, they understood. The foreman swished cold coffee between his teeth than spat it on the ground. “No.”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?”

“It was. I gave it up, free and clear. On the first day we met, Precious, you said that an unbonded demon starts shit, and that necklace is the mark of a covenant that I’m assuming is keeping you bonded and at peace with us. I didn’t remove it then, and I ain’t removing it now. Your assignment with me is completed. Report to your overseer for the next.”

Precious smiled and showed sharp triangular serrated teeth. “You know, Boss Fuck, you ain’t a stupid man. And that’s why we like you. You know how to make, and keep, a deal. I’m off, then. As commanded. Pleasure working with you and your men, Sir.”

The foreman stuck his hand out towards the demon. “Pleasure having you work with us. If you ever get bored of being a demon, you have a spot with us.” 

Precious looked at the outstretched hand and slowly took it. He did not answer but shook the mortal man’s hand with an honest grip. He released the foreman, pulling the last hues of the scar off the foreman’s arm as he moved away, and walked away from the rig towards the uninhabited depths of the desolate land.

The next day the Suit appeared with several acolytes sycophants subordinates in tow. The Suit took credit for the success of the rig after revealing the corporation had already written off the rig as a loss and had ordered the crew to be reassigned elsewhere. “But my persistence and dedication to the company inspired these men to complete my vision and achieve the impossible! This is the achievement that has me now in consideration for the board!”

The foreman’s stern glare kept the youngbloods from adding their observations to the Suit’s speech. The veterans just smiled kindly and nodded their last respects to the man who was going to pay for Precious’ assistance. It was said that within the hour after the Suit returned to his air-conditioned office in a downtown tower of some major city, he fell and was dead before he even hit the ground. The only clue to what ailment had struck him was a strange, deeply infected wound on the inside of his forearm. Yet no one could place when or where the wound was incurred.

The crew broke down their drilling rig and moved on to the next assignment. When the foreman went to clean out his coffee thermos, he poured the dregs of a muddy fluid into the sink, followed by a sudden clunk and the sound of a small chain slipping over the metal lip of the thermos.

His gold necklace and crucifix had been returned to him again.

-fin-

[imawebsitedotcom-blog]

Interviews - !!!

(the questions) 1. How do you come across ideas? 2. Do you ever need to come up with different strategies to execute something? 3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? 4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes? 5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do?

Nataly Evroni:

1. How do you come across ideas? I ask my friend Gavi 2. Do you ever need to come up with different strategies to execute something? Yea, social media job - sending things out in different ways can’t post same thing every day 3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? I always think what’s the best way to do something - so no I don’t always do things one way 4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes?when? Yea, whenever I have projects for class or for my job I don’t feel like I can come up with ideas on my own 5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do? Why? And what about with friends? No, I always have stuff I need to do so I don’t like to procrastinate. Depends which friends: some people you could do nothing and you’re doing something with them and some people you have to put in more effort

Yoni Rosen:

1. How do you come across ideas?  I think about things and compound more ideas until I solidify one in mind - follow thought process 2. Can you think of a time you needed to come up with different strategies to execute something/ problem solve?    Yea, almost every situation. even just deciding the best way to get to class. To deal with unforeseen issues. (Do you feel like you do that successfully?) I think I do. 3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? No, maybe but for most things there are new ways to do all these things 4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes? I understand creatives and never have a shortage of creative thought but I like to always learn more so I can expand the ideas that I create 5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do? There’s always something you can do but sometimes I just don’t wanna do anything. And sometimes you just don’t know what you wanna do but there is always something you can do. 6. Do you ever struggle with what you wanna do? Absolutely. I always switch back and forth in my mind because I don’t know.

Brian Berko

 1. How do you come across ideas? they kinda pop into my head randomly, (what if you need to think on the spot) I think of what other people did and the best part of what they did and try to come up with that on my own 2. Do you ever need to come up with different strategies to execute something or problem solve? A lot of my studies are problem solving but not everyday life. Actually maybe I do - with a friend of mine I have to solve a lot of problems. (How to help them?) ya they’re going through a lot so they’re problems become my problems and they’re very often urgent and are new every time. 3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? There’s always one best way. One way that does it the best with the least effort 4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes? Sure, some creative types baffle me. Most of them are insane I’m not supposed to understand them but it’s fine. Probably but I don’t care so much about it so if I ever have to be creative whatever I come up with is fine. 5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do? Yea, well.., no - sometimes in regard to studying and waiting rooms (summary) (like on break or st?) I have a lot of hobbies thank God (what about to do with someone else?) yea, some activities are for one person and if they’re not down to do crazy other activities then yea. (Do you feel like that happens a lot?) Yea.

Tamar Brodsky

1. How do you come across ideas? Idk I guess I was just born to be a creative thinker and I see things differently. I constantly like to improve things and create stuff 2. Do you ever need to come up with different strategies to execute something or problem solve? Yea of course (when) when like I’m in a group setting and people have ideas and they’re not working out and I’m like I could do this better type. 3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? No. Naw. 4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes? No. I very much understand people who are creative and go the creative path of life. 5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do? I say that a lot but I also know that I could easily find something to do. Like there’s never not something to do it’s just a matter of am I too lazy to find st to do

Adam J Kurtz : Creative Expert

1. How do you come across ideas? Most of my ideas come from real life situations or feelings – old me would probably tweet something immediately just to vent, and maybe dig through afterwards. Now I'm much more likely to hold onto a thought and consider if it might somehow be useful in the creative process, or if it might be emotionally more healthy to process it internally even if it isn't fodder for art.

2. Do you ever need to come up with different strategies to execute something or problem solve? Sometimes, despite planning, you're forced to course-correct as you go. This is totally normal and part of the process of executing anything, I think. Planning ahead to have multiple options is a great idea. I often think I know what I'm doing and then reality tells me otherwise!

3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? I might think there's only one way, but there is almost never only one way. That's why collaboration is such a special and important part of the creative process.

4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes? What I do understand is that everyone is wildly different and so things that come easy to me might be hard for others, and vice versa. Some people are so good at things I am  terrible at. It's not a contest! It's just life. Working with people who fill in the gaps is how to get things done.

5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do? There's always something to do… you just might not want to be doing it. :)

Ruth Boldor: Creative Expert

1. How do you come across ideas? I don’t come across them they just come across me (kay but let’s say you have to think of something) if I try to think about it too much sometimes it doesn’t work it kinda just comes at random and it doesn’t make sense but it makes sense. It’s kinda like when you try and force art ya know? 2. Do you ever need to come up with different strategies to execute something or problem solve? I feel like that a lot, any artist would feel like that sometimes - like artist block - (what do you do when you have artist block) put myself in a really random sitch, step outside the box and do something different. Put yourself in a totally different physician situation cuz you’re going through the same places and kinda recycling thoughts but the minute you step into a new place it kinda clears your mind and reboots. 3. Do you ever feel like there is only one way to do something? I do feel that sometimes, yes I feel that way but it doesn’t mean that it’s necessarily true. 4. Do you ever feel like you don’t understand creatives or how to gain creativity sometimes? Part 1: sometimes I don’t exactly understand the context but they’re into it so that’s all that matters I guess. part 2: no. I feel like it comes back to writers block ya know. 5. Do you ever feel like there’s nothing to do? No there’s more, sometimes I’m lazy but there always more.