#// with what i know of the ars goetia and trying to wrap my mind around the ages for adam lilith and eve

[edenpoise]

the fact that eve would be canonically older than most if - not all of the goetia family is wild.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS X Male Imp Pt.3

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

You continued your rhythm, hands roaming his body. Stolas was getting close.

His breathing became shallow, moans became more lewd.

The way you held him so close, the warmth you gave him just intensified the pleasure you were giving him.

Stolas was in a daze, pleasure numbed his brain. Pleasure gripped his mind, stopping him from thinking about anything but the pleasure you were bringing him.

Stolas was getting close, trying to speak only came out as drunken moans.

You were both close and you both knew it.

Squeezing him close you began intensifying your thrusts, hands grabbing him rougher.

You were getting so close, you bit your tongue focusing on the pain to last as long as possible.

But no matter how hard you tried to hold back, you reached your peak, exploding in the owls sopping cavern. Feeling this sent Stolas over the edge.

Stolas released a high pitch squeal.

Not wanting uninvited listeners to hear your bedmate, you reach forward and pull the prince into a deep kiss, muffling the squeal.

The two of your remain in that state for several moments. Breaking the kiss, you fall limp against the princes chest.

Stolas rested his arms around your back, pulling you close as you both basked in the afterglow.

While you were very content with the idea of just laying with this very warm, feathery pillow for the next few hours.

The sudden slamming of a door and Blitzø screaming 'Fuck!' snapped you both out of our pleasant haze.

Looking up at Stolas, you found him looking just as panicked as you felt. You both scrambled off each other, desperately trying get your clothes on.

Stolas scrambled in kind, desperately trying to get his clothes on. Though unfortunately for him he'd earlier scattered his clothes across the room.

Finally getting your clothes on properly, you found Stolas still in a state of undress.

He'd gotten his upper layer on but still lacked his pants and cloak.

Looking around, I found the cloak besides the door. Rushing over i grab the fur collared cloak.

Bringing it back to the prince, he quickly put it on, giving me a quick thanks before dashing around, looking for his pants.

Looking around, you found Stolas' pants under the conference table.

Grabbing them you quickly handed them to the avian prince. Stolas snatched them from your hands before beginning the awkward process of pulling them up his long legs

He'd gotten them up about half way when the distinct sound of Blitzø trudging towards the door drew both of our attention.

We both stared at the door, listening as Blitzø stamped his way towards us. Stolas was in the early stages of a panick attack, as stolas leaned back against the conference table, watching the door with frozen dread.

Blitzø's heavy steps stopped before the door, the silence hung in the air like a scythe drawn back and ready to cut us both down.

You both began to panick before a booming sneeze rang out, Blitzø mumbled profanity before continuing past the door.

Stopping by the office's entrance he called back '(Y/N) lock the place up will ya, I need a fuckin drink.'

Without waiting for a response Blitzø slammed the front door and like that, we were alone.

You looked up at the prince, he looked back at you. You stared at each other for a few moments before you cracked a smile.

You began a hearty chuckle, laughing at how tense you'd both gotten only to be completely alone again.

Stolas pulls his pants up, before joining you in your little laugh. Walking over you sat up next to the prince. The two of you falling into a pleasant silence.

Stolas slipped his hand into yours, before bringing your hand onto his lap.

Stolas was in a strange state of mind, he had been emotionally shattered, and now he felt... happy.

For the first time in years he wasnt filled with anxiety.

Sitting there he slid his arm around you waist, before pulling you into his lap.

You nestled into his lap, enjoying his embrace as he ran his hand over your body.

I leaned into the touch, enjoying his scent as as you sat in his lap.

Stolas looked down at you, he just didnt understand you.

His entire life people had always wanted something from him, Octavia was the only person who ever just wanted him to who he was... and he still managed to screw thet up.

Even his beloved Blitzø only wanted him for his grimoire, no one wanted him for him.

Except you.

And stolas didn't understand it.

So he decided ask you.

'What do you want?' Stolas asked you, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked up at him, unsure of what he said, 'what?' You asked.

'What do you want from me?' He asked, anger swelling in his chest. He needed to know, you were the only good thing he had right now and he needed to know why you were being so Damned Good to him!

You looked up at him, frustration and anger clear on his face.

A sad little smile adorned your face before you raised both your arms and cup his cheeks.

Stolas froze, getting to your feet you looked him dead in the eyes you told him. 'I just want you to be happy.'

Stolas was taken aback, confusion laid clear across his feature.

You chuckled at his clearly dumbfounded expression.

With a sigh you told him 'I can truthfully say when I first heard of you my opinion of you wasn't very high. And when I heard of your deal with Blitzø... well it didn't help.

'But' I cut in before he could say anything. 'I quickly came to learn you were unlike any of your fellow royalty.'

You took his hand into your own, gently playing with his fingers.

'Like most Imps growing up i dreamed of growing up to own a palace.' You chuckled to yourself. 'But when I grew up I realised. When you have such power, you bound to it as much as its bound to you'

'And when I learned of your arrangement with Blitzø, I though it was just a way to indulge in your more, carnal desires.' you sighed, reliving the last 20 minutes or so. 'But it wasnt until i overheard you talking to Blitzø on the phone. I could hear just how genuinely eager you were to see him, and I could tell how much you wished he'd return such enthusiasm.

Running a hand down his chest you told him. 'You coming here to see Blitzø, it was so obvious i was actually annoyed with myself for seeing it earlier. You were genuinely eager to see him. But it wasn't until you, prince stolas of the Ars Goetia, ask if your out fit was good enough did realise what was going on.'

You took a moment to have a giggle at the memory, Stolas didn't find it as funny but listened regardless.

'Watching you fuss over an outfit that you knew was perfect, it was in that moment your anxiety shown through. I saw your mask crack and I could see just how fragile you were.'

Stolas got a little huffy 'I'm not fragile' he grumbled to himself.

You giggled at his immature behaviour.

Turning his head towards you, you met his crimson gaze. 'Stolas. In that moment. I saw you.' You placed your hand against his chest.

'I saw a gentle soul. A damaged, scared, And absolutely terrified to be alone.' You brought his hand up to your cheek. 'And when I heard Blitzø screaming at you, without even giving you a chance. I knew it would devastate you.'

'And you there, in front of Blitzø's office, clawing at the ground, desperately trying to keep it together, I made a decision.' Stolas' gaze was so intense if not for your current situation youd likely fear for your life. 'I made the decision to make. you. smile. No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifice. I wouldn't let you leave without a smile on your face.'

Stolas stared for several moments, eyes scanning your face for even the slightest hint of deceat. His throat dried and eyes watered when he realised there wasn't any to find.

'You really did all that for me, just... to see me smile?' Stolas asked, his voice staring to break up through his drying throat.

You looked him dead in the eyes and without a moment's hesitation you whispered back 'yes.'

Stolas pulled you close, tears welling in his eyes.

Stolas held you tight, fearing that if he let you go, something would snatch you away from him.

You leaned into the embrace, returning the hug and just enjoying his arms wrapped around you.

It wasn't until you felt his body quivering that you pulled from the embrace. Finding the owl on the brink of tears you reached up and wiped a tear from his eyes.

Stolas felt... light. As though all the things that were holding him down were gone.

He felt freer then he had in centuries, like nothing could keep him down.

And looking down, he found the source of this freedom.

And seeing you looking up at him, he couldn't help the smile spread across his features.

You were what he'd always wanted.

Someone who loved him unconditionally.

Seeing the Prince smiling made you release a giggle 'You look good with a smile' you whispered to him.

Stolas' hand cupped your cheek and brought you close. Placing a single kiss on your lips before placing head against your own.

Pulling back he said 'I think I'm in love with you.'

Stolas froze, fearing for your reply, fearing you wouldn't reply, fear you'd leave him and he'd fall into the pit of despair that you'd pulled him out of.

You took a moment to respond, a moment which for stolas felt like an eternity.

Getting up you cupped both his cheeks and told him 'I care deeply for you as well, Stolas.'

The reply sent a slight wave of sadness through him before he calmed himself. 'Its alright' he thought 'he doesn't need to love me yet. I'll show him how much I deserve his love.'

Stolas planted another kiss before asking you 'can I see you again, spend some time with you.'

'Do you have a phone?' You asked, Stolas patted himself down hefore pulling out his Hellphone you quickly snatched out of his hands.

Opening the phone you chuckled to yourself, 'Don't even have a password.'

You typed away for a few moment, Stolas leaned down trying to take a look at what you were doing.

Pulling back you pressed the phone against your chest before you wagged your finger at him 'na-ah'.

It took another minute before you held the phone up, pulled a little pose and he heard the distinct click of you taking a picture.

After another few second you handed the phone back before getting up of his lap.

Though instantly missed your presence you attention was still on the phone. Opening it he found a new contact.

(Y/N), the icon being the image you just took.

The fact you so willingly not only gave him your number, but you willingly took a picture of yourself sent warmth through his chest.

His attention brought back to the real world when he heard the door open.

Looking up, he found you standing by the door before walking back over to him.

Holding a hand out, you pulled him to his feet before saying 'Stolas. This has been perhaps the single greatest moment in my life, and I can't describe how happy I am that I got to share it with you.'

Walking to the door, you turned to him. 'But, and I can't describe how much it pains me to say, but I have to bring this rendezvous to an end.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

Stols took in a breath, 'I understand. This was all rather sudden.' He told you, running his hand over yours.

'Thank you for understanding.' You said earnestly.

Stolas leaned down and you shared a brief but passionate kiss.

'I look forward to seeing you again, My leage' you steered him towards the door, say the last part in your best snooty accent.

Stolas giggled at your antics before ducking under the door.

You exchanged one final touch before he left to home.

[bleachanimefan1]

Oblitus Part 38

I Can't Help Falling In Love With You

25 Days Until Extermination...

Four hours ago...

A giant fish monster roared as everyone stared with shocked and surprised looks on their faces as they stood at the shore from the beach, watching. The monster tossed someone high into the air as they tried to fight it. It was Lucifer. It wrapped it's tentacles around him and shocked the fallen angel, knocking him unconscious for a moment. His eyes began to feel heavy as he tried to fight off the sleep.

His gaze drifted over to the hotel guests, seeing his daughter, Vaggie, Alastor, he was wearing one of those old 1920's swim suits except it was red and black stripes and a large sunhat, Anna, who was wearing a black two piece, Angel, Husk and the rest, watching. Helsa and her brother Seviathan were lying on the sand, unconscious and beaten up. Then Lucifer's gaze stopped at Lilith who had a horrified look on her face. He smiled with a dazed look, drifting in and out of consciousness. She was still beautiful, as the day he first saw her, especially now in that sexy swimsuit of hers.

The monster tossed Lucifer high to the air and opened it's mouth as he began to fall, ready to eat him. Lucifer felt time began to slow down around him as he stared at everyone on the beach.

"I guess, you're wondering how I got into this situation. It is all because I fell in love. Let me rewind it a couple of hours back, leading to this moment."

Loud noises were heard as a couple of demons jumped, startled, as they passed by Lucifer and Lilith's mansion. Lucifer dodged an ancient looking vase as it was thrown at him. He quickly used his magic to stop it before it shattered on the floor, setting the fragile vase down, gently.

"Lilith, you know that this is an ancient relic from the past and a favorite of mine-" His eyes widened as he saw his wife picked up his angel sword and tossed it, nearly hitting him when she did. It stabbed the wall beside him, inches from his cheek.

"Lily, I don't know what else there is to say. I'm sorry!"

"I won't forgive you until you apologize to our daughter!" Lilith screamed. "I want you to take your stuff and get out!" She picked up some of Lucifer's clothes and a suitcase and tossed them at him and shoved him right out the door.

"Lily-" Lucifer was cut off as Lilith slammed the door in his face. "Please..."

In the city, two owl demons with dark black feathers walked out of a taxidermy shop. They had a majestic and graceful appearance to them, like royalty, in fact, they were. They were the Ars Goetia. It was Stolas and his daughter, Octavia. The prince stopped when he noticed someone lying on the ground, realizing that it was Lucifer. Octavia saw him as well. He looked so sad and pitiful that it was pathetic.

"Dad?" she asked. Stolas handed his daughter some money and she took it from him, confused.

"Via, why don't you go buy yourself something nice? Maybe, one of those songs that you like so much. I'll be right with you after I have a talk with him." he told her. Octavia shrugged and walked off heading towards a music shop while Stolas turned back to the king and walked over to him. As he got closer, Stolas saw that the king was in the process of digging a hole in the ground.

"Lucifer, what are you doing?" the prince questioned, concerned. Lucifer stopped and turned to the owl prince, now noticing him, but then he went back to what he was doing.

"What does it look like? I'm digging my grave," he replied. "Want me to dig you one, too?"

The Ars Goetia prince stared at the king with a shocked look. The poor guy. He's absolutely lost his marbles...Stolas sat down on the ground, after brushing the dirt and a few pebbles out of the way, next to the king who was literally digging his own grave. Lucifer was lying face first on the ground, as he was shoveling dirt on top of his head. Stolas sighed.

"Let me guess, your little wifey kicked you out?" he asked, softly. Lucifer made a muffled whining noise.

"I guess by that noise, I'm right," Stolas confirmed. Lucifer growled and pulled his head up, now glaring at the prince, sneering.

"Don't act all so high and mighty, considering your own situation. Your wife hates you! All because you slept with an imp, an imp of all people! A lower class rank citizen!" Stolas' eyes began to glow red. Lucifer's eyes widen as he saw his feet slowly began to turn to stone, now slowly going up to his knees, stopping.

"I know! And I don't regret it, not a single bit. My marriage was miserable but the only good thing that came out of it was my daughter. Should I say the same for yours?" Lucifer said nothing.

"I don't care what other people think of me, they can say all the shit about me that they want. But, I'm not going to let you talk about my Blitzy like that, not after what's he's been through. So I'd advise you to shut up." Then he release his power that he had on Lucifer, his legs turning back to normal.

"Why are you even here?" Lucifer asked. Then he noticed Stolas staring at him, his eyes widen in realization. "You fucking knew this entire time that this would happen!" he shouted.

"Well, yes! And who do you think is to blame? Certainly, not that little human at your daughter's hotel," Stolas answered. Lucifer silently looked down as Stolas continued. "You've gotten no one else but yourself to blame. All because you can't let go of what happened to you in the past."

"Shut the fuck up, Stolas!" Lucifer growled.

"I know what's going to happen because I've seen it," the prince explained. "You're daughter's hotel is going to succeed. But, I also see something very troubling as well. A great battle is going to happen. An army is coming. Mass destruction and chaos is happening in the city, followed by time being destroyed. Someone's life, who's going to be in danger...yours." Lucifer's eyes widen.

"What?" he asked, shocked. Time being destroyed? How is that possible?

"I see you fighting one of your brothers, a crazy one but also very paranoid at that, but losing very badly, trying to defend your wife and daughter. However, someone intervenes...the human woman from the living world."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me..." Lucifer replied in disbelief. "That meddlesome pet?" Stolas smirked and chuckled.

"That "meddlesome pet" is the only thing to stop you from getting killed." he explained. "Oh, and by the way I will need my grimoire eventually given back, once you've used it to return the human back to the living world."

"What do you mean "your grimoire?" Lucifer asked. "It was mine, before you stolen it!"

"Stolen is such a strong word, I'd prefer "borrowed without permission." Stolas replied. "And speaking about the human, her life's in danger at this very moment right now, as well as your daughter's." Lucifer's eyes widen.

"They're at a beach...-" Stolas tried to explain but Lucifer quickly got up. Two large white wings sprouted from his back and he quickly flew off. "I know which one that you're talking about. Thank you for the talk!"

Stolas coughed as dirt scattered around him when Lucifer took off and waved it away with his hand. He sighed.

"Angels always in such a rush." he murmured under his breath. Then he frowned when he saw something as a vision flashed in his eyes. It was a disturbing vision of Angel Dust.

"That poor soul doesn't have much time left..."

Four hours later...

Time sped back up as Lucifer began to fall, landing right into the sea monster's mouth and it's jaws slammed shut. Charlie's eyes widened in horror as well as Lilith's.

"Mom?" the princess asked worried.

"He'll be fine," Lilith answered her. "He will be." Nothing happened and they saw the monster starting to swim away.

"I'm going over there if he doesn't come out." she muttered under her breath.

The monster was getting further away as nothing happened. Lilith's eyes turned red and she quickly ran, heading towards the beast. She jumped high into the air until she reached the creature, hitting it right in it's eye. It let out a loud bellowing shriek and open it's mouth. Lilith leaned over, looking inside of the creature's mouth. Her eyes widen as her mouth dropped slightly in disbelief when she saw Lucifer sprawled out on it's tongue as he rested his head with his head, with a smug grin on his face.

"Took you long enough, beautiful." he said. Lilith frowned and reached out to him.

"You asshole!" she screamed. Lucifer laughed and reached out grabbing her hand and she pulled him out of the monster's mouth. She slapped him across the cheek with her hand. Lucifer grabbed it before she could hit him again.

"I know," he told her. "And I'm really sorry. Now, let's go back over to our daughter so I can tell her that, as well as apologize to that human pet of hers."

Lilith's eyes widen shock before she smiled.

"What changed your mind?" she asked.

"I had a talk with an old friend," he told her.

[sending-the-message]

Furfur by Ilunibi

Going to college was hard on both me and Dead Coyote. Of course he was proud of me--he’d watched me juggle exorcisms and calculus the entire time I was in high school--but we’d grown comfortable with one another’s presence. Dependent, I guess is a less nice way to put it in my case. He could take care of himself a bit more than I could take care of me, and I didn’t realize it until I was standing in my dorm with my scant few belongings that I honestly had no idea what the hell I was going to do with myself.

Eighteen. Free. Lucky enough to get a room to myself. Yet, there I was, standing dead in the center of a bare-bones room staring at the full-length mirror on the back of the door, confused and scared and honestly wishing that I could just throw my acceptance letter in the face of the dean and go back home. Home, of course, being Dead Coyote’s couch. I know it smelled like skunk and Camel cigarettes, but it was also warm and cozy and familiar.

And welcoming. I didn’t exactly feel wanted in college.

Most people who practice my particular craft don’t advertise it because it’s a pretty isolating way of living, even with other believers. I found out after trying to join the pagan alliance on campus that the little Wiccan do-gooders who preached about white magic and crystals didn’t fancy the idea of including a newcomer whose entire magical history revolved around the Ars Goetia and necromancy. They heard “left-hand path” and assumed that I was some misguided, edgy freshman or some poor, lost soul who was destined to live a dark and miserable life brought upon me by vengeful demons and restless raccoon ghosts. I told myself they were just intimidated by the fact that I had nearly a decade of experience and actually got results, that they were all fad-witches who’d give it up once it stopped making them feel like manic pixie dream girls, though I knew honestly that I was just bitter and lonely.

I talked pretty frequently to Dead Coyote, though, and that was my respite. Where most college kids would call their mom to ask how to do their laundry or cook a meal that wasn’t ramen and Kraft dinner, I’d call and ask about whether candle color mattered for casual non-Goetic invocations, how to get wax out of carpeting, and how to keep a smoke alarm from going off. The latter he had a few different answers to for several different reasons, and I appreciated his expertise. It probably saved me a fine or two.

One week became two weeks became a month, and I really hadn’t made any friends or done anything beyond my basic, nightly rituals and piles upon piles of homework. Fortunately, by the time August ended and September began, I found that I was perfectly capable of operating like an adult and even found a couple of casual acquaintances who’d wave at me in public. It still wasn’t the same, though. Going back to an empty dorm was a blessing and a curse because, while I didn’t have to worry about somebody asking me why I had satchels of grass drying in my window and candles stockpiled in my closet like I was preparing for Armageddon, I also didn’t have anyone to sit around and shoot the shit with. And honestly, years of being part of a team made magic on my own feel painfully lonely and much less powerful.

“Princess, you are just forty-five minutes away,” Dead Coyote groaned into the phone when I called him, crying.

“I don’t have a car, DC.”

“Yeah, but you know who does? Me. Do you wanna hang this weekend or what?”

I told him that it would be a waste of gas to drive me back and forth. He told me it would be worth the trip. While he’d enjoyed the calm in my absence for the first few days, the quiet was starting to grate on his nerves. And, if I felt so strongly about him spending his cash on gas, he’d just stop by and visit me to cut down on fuel. If I wanted him to stay the whole weekend, hell, he’d just sleep in his car. He’d slept in worse places, he said, though I told him I’d rather him not elaborate. I didn’t want to know what was more disgusting than the backseat of his Grand Prix.

When he arrived, my RA--who just so happened to be one of the leaders of the pagan alliance--eyeballed him suspiciously in the lobby as she tapped her pen against the clipboard with the visitor registry. I can still remember the look of disbelief on her face, tucking her chin down and glaring up at me over her glasses. All she would have needed was a wad of gum smacking in her mouth and she’d look like an extra in an ‘80s movie.

“So, is he your--?”

I told her that he was my older brother which, in retrospect, was a dumb idea. I’m pretty sure that if somebody was asked to draw the polar opposite of me in every way, they would have had a quick sketch of Dead Coyote. She shifted her gaze between us and offered us the tightest, most unconvincing smile I’ve ever seen a person manage.

“I’ll just put down he’s your… uh, boyfriend.”

Dead Coyote laughed a little harder than he should have.

If he felt awkward stomping around a crowded building full of awkward college girls, he didn’t show it. They definitely felt that he was out of place, though, gawking and whispering as I just kept chirping at the side of his head about local gossip while he listed off my neighbors and classmates who’d gotten knocked up, arrested, and knocked up then arrested. It was satisfying to hear that, after I was off to college to make something of myself, Jessica Schneider had found her final form as a white-trash party girl who had been locked up after being found with cocaine in her possession. I shouldn’t have laughed, but I was petty enough to still hate her.

While we chatted, I noticed Dead Coyote growing more and more distracted the further we went down the hall. My room was situated at the very end next to a dead light but his eyes kept drifting around like he was looking for something--or someone--in particular. By the time we were at the middle of the corridor, he was casting worried glances over his shoulder, and at the end, he was walking completely backwards. The girl who lived across from me cursed at him when he nearly mowed her down, but he didn’t seem to notice she existed. His brows were furrowed, his lip raised in a mix of disgust and bewilderment, but try as I might I could not figure out what he was looking at.

Residents? A chip in the wall? A bug? Somebody’s gaudy door decoration? Given who it was, he honestly could have been distracted by anything. Even after getting clean-ish, his attention span was as bad as his memory.

When I opened the door, he gently bumped me inside with his hip and ducked in after me like getting to my room was a stealth operation. It shut with a bang that echoed like a gunshot and I realized that I hadn’t even had a chance to get my key out of the lock. I stared at him, he stared at me. After a moment of me drawling like an idiot while I tried to decide whether to ask him what his problem was or if I could get my key, he plopped down on my bed and nodded his head toward the door.

“Who’s in room 14B?”

I didn’t know. When I told him, his confusion turned to concern and he immediately began to ransack my desk. Ignoring anything scandalous he found, he dragged out a pad of yellow legal paper and the fattest marker he could find, scribbling a magic triangle dead in the center with a single word of wisdom bolded and underlined directly beneath it.

STOP.

And with that, he was out the door. I followed him through a smattering of freshman girls as he explained, a bit too loudly, that something was very, very wrong in room 14B. I flinched as a few of them tittered when he started into the metaphysics, preaching darkness and bad vibes and demonology. Yet, more than the embarrassment of being exposed to a few nonbelievers, I was intrigued because I couldn’t really wrap my mind around not being the only practitioner on campus who dabbled in anything heavier than aromatherapy and meditating under trees. Hell, I was almost hopeful.

The stuff he told me was admittedly pretty grim, though. There was power coming from that room, like electricity, and he had no idea how I hadn’t noticed before. He thought he’d taught me better than that. Whatever it was, he said he could feel that the air was so charged that it was nearly painful. The kind of static that makes your hair stand on end and your arms break out in goose skin and makes your head pulse and your teeth hurt.

“They’re up to something and they suck at it, and it’s gonna backfire like a sonuvabitch,,” he explained in front of me and a curious blonde clutching a bowl of Captain Crunch. He stopped in front of 14B, glowered at the tacky cork board hanging on the door, and unceremoniously unpinned a happy little note written in glittery purple pen. It was quickly replaced with his warning, a warning he then had to explain to Cereal Girl after she asked with a full mouth what the fancy triangle was for.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly, thankfully. Dead Coyote taught me a few new invocations, he helped me with some spells I’d been tinkering with, we threw rocks at cars, and I got to eat actual food that wasn’t the prison-slop the dining hall shelled out. It’s hard to imagine that there was ever a day where an A&W burger would make anyone feel like they were sitting at a banquet in the halls of Valhalla, but you do not understand how special it felt to be eating food that wasn’t university pizza.

After he returned me to my humble abode and picked a parking lot to camp in, I found the RA office empty and the lobby strangely quiet. I tromped up to my floor and started down the hall, taking a quick glance at 14B to see if the message had been received. I half expected it to still be there, but it was gone, ripped off so violently that I could see a shred of lined paper still clinging to the cork board. It was concerning, but I decided I wasn’t the person to fight Dead Coyote’s battles for him.

“Miranda wasn’t happy.”

A voice stopped me and I turned, curious, to see the girl with the bowl of cereal from earlier. This time she had a Hot Pocket, munching as nonchalantly as she had been before. If Dead Coyote ever had a spirit animal, I’m pretty sure it would be Cereal Girl.

I asked who Miranda was and Cereal Girl looked back at room 14B and pursed her sauce-stained lips.

“Miranda? The RA? You really don’t know who she is?”

The RA? That was a shock. I remembered back to my very brief attempt at interacting with the pagan alliance and how she had been so fucking bitter when I told her what it was I did in my spare time. Her, with her pretty auburn curls and her button nose and bohemian earrings and weird, sepia-tinted Instagram selfies. She was the kind of person to shop at Whole Foods and refuse to wear a bra because they were against the will of Mother Gaia. She was not exactly the type of girl I pegged as being capable of setting off all of Dead Coyote’s alarms.

But, I didn’t tell Cereal Girl this. I just told her that, aside from some brief interactions here and there, I wasn’t really familiar with her. I didn’t even know that was her room. I hadn’t even known her name.

“Huh. Weird. ‘Cause she knew exactly who left her that note. I didn’t even have to tell her.”

She gestured at my room at the end of the hall and told me she’d returned the favor. A cold fear filled my stomach and it dropped like a rock straight through the rest of me. While I doubted that somebody on the fast road to fucking up basic ceremonial magic could do much to threaten me, she was still somebody who was on the fast road to fucking up basic ceremonial magic and that was dangerous in and of itself. And if she had it out for me? Hoo, boy, she may not hit me, but with how tedious and detail-oriented it all is, I could imagine what she could do to herself or somebody else.

When I reached my door, though, all that was taped to it was a flowery piece of stationery with a single crest on it: Glasyalabolas. No pentacles, no Sigillum Dei, nothing. Just the crest of Glasylabolas, drawn incorrectly in that same purple gel pen as the note Dead Coyote unpinned from her door. Honestly, it was kind of amusing, but I knew enough to take it as a threat. Even if she was horribly inept, she still had the audacity to try to summon the patron demon of manslaughter in my dorm room. I briefly wondered what she would think if she knew I’d danced with that dog before.

“Okay, what does that mean?” Cereal Girl asked. I untaped the paper, took a pencil out of my bag, and wrote Miss Miranda a note on the back. My new friend trailed me as I walked back to 14B but I never said a word. I just left my new nemesis a friendly little bit of advice for her to find the next morning.

That’s not how this works. Stop it.

As soon as I woke up the following day, I was out at Dead Coyote’s camping spot and climbing in the passenger’s seat of his car. I resolved that I would just spend a lazy Sunday outside of my dorm so I wouldn’t have to think too hard about Miranda and her hypocrisy. We wound up near some nature trail just outside of town and the entire day was spent talking about life and our ambitions and getting back to the basics of him teaching me Spanish profanity and me telling him about my days at school.

We only decided to head back to civilization when the sun started hanging low in the sky, Dead Coyote pitching his last cigarette and sighing, “Well, princess, let’s get you home.”

We only made it partway.

There’s a stretch of road just down the hill from my old dorm that was typically lit up like Vegas at night. I guess enough pedestrians complained that drivers nearly killed them and enough drivers complained about the people-shaped deer that the city council decided it was a good idea to make sure daytime never ended in that one spot. I didn’t immediately get worried when, for the first time in ever, we cruised up the street in pitch-black nothingness, but the closer we got to my final destination for the night I began to feel a prickling across my skin, like static. Side-eying Dead Coyote proved he wasn’t really reacting to it, but the tingle became a burn and that burn became a sharp prick of pain. I flinched in my seat, then smashed into the dashboard as Dead Coyote slammed the brakes.

I would have cussed, but when I looked up, Dead Coyote was staring dead ahead like an alien spacecraft had landed in front of his car. Nose bleeding, I peeked over the edge of the dashboard and struggled to focus my eyes. For a second, all I saw was color and movement: swaying and pale gray. It hurt to look at and the sharp prick of pain grew into a throbbing, stabbing warmth that roiled in my belly and tried to tear its way out of my skin.

“Oh. Shit.”

Dead Coyote’s voice was low, level, but his eyes were pure panic. I saw why when my double vision finally melded together and there, standing in the middle of the road, was a pallid deer with bright, blazing eyes. They were the same color as lightning, hot and white but, for whatever reason, my brain interpreted it as blue.

“Oh… shit,” I echoed, watching as the deer--with strangely human confidence--raised its antlered head high and sauntered across the road. Dead Coyote watched quietly, poked his head out of the car window, and mumbled under his breath as it vanished into the trees. Even outside of the glare of his headlights, it still seemed to give off its own ghastly glow.

He pulled over immediately, dug through the trash in his floorboard for his emergency cigarettes, then jumped across me to grab a flashlight from his glove box. And some chalk. And every leftover salt packet he had collected from every fast food restaurant he’d been to in the past twelve months, which he ripped open and dumped into the chest pocket on his flannel jacket.

“Get out of the car, princess. You know what that was.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. We both knew what and who had just traipsed past us and the fact that he was just wandering around freely like a stray dog did not bode well for anyone or anything in his path.

Furfur.

You can go ahead and giggle at the name--it’s kind of stupid--but if you ignore the name and look to the meat of the matter, Furfur is not the kind of demon you’d want to square off with. Grimoire entries about him are vague and make him seem non-threatening--a mischievous deer who compulsively lies and likes shiny rocks and playing Cupid--but the problem with those entries is that they’re so vague because controlling him is an absolute bitch that nobody wants to bother with. Only under very specific circumstances will he work with a conjurer and, even then, you have to have every failsafe in check to keep him honest. If he’s dishonest, he will waste no time in trying to talk you down the most self-destructive path he can manage.

Dead Coyote, in his younger days, found that out the hard way.

More concerning though was that he was physically there, skin, bones, antlers, and all. Now, even though a lot of these stories I’ve told you would make you think that ceremonial magic is flash, pizazz, and physical interaction, you have to remember that the stories I pick out are ones that are unique and interesting. Most people into ceremonial magic never see anything overtly odd in their entire lives, and even those of us who have experience intense feelings more than we actually get a gander at the big guys. Even if you do see them up-close and personal, they’re normally bound. They can’t really leave where they were summoned, at least if you’re doing it right.

But somebody wasn’t doing it right.

I don’t even think we checked to see if anyone was coming before we bolted across the road--Dead Coyote scrambling over the hood of the car in his panic--and we ran a pretty fair distance before either of us thought to turn on the flashlight. Stumbling, hissing, spitting, we tore through the underbrush even as it threatened to tear through us, blackberry briars and switch-worthy shrubs grabbing at our clothes and lashing across our faces. I felt blood dripping down my forehead and my arms and saw Dead Coyote with briar-covered vines wrapped around his jeans and twigs stuck in his hair. The entire time, he was grumbling and groaning like a teenager bitching about doing his chores.

“Stupid goddamn 14B bitch thinks she knows what she’s doin’ but she don’t know, princess, she has no goddamned idea what she’s doin’ and she’s lucky as fuck that I’m here because I actually read more than one goddamned motherfucking piece of shit book on the subject unlike her dumbass and I fucking swear, princess, she better hope I don’t find her ‘cause--”

This went on for a while. One continuous sentence without so much as a pause that lasted all the way to a clearing among the trees that eventually faded into what looked like a local farm. Overgrown wild grass was separated from trimmed grazing ground by a rickety wooden fence, the entire expanse illuminated by the moon. And there, standing proudly like he was waiting for us, was the deer.

Dead Coyote reached for the salt in his pocket. Through some chance miracle, our stomping around in the underbrush between the street and the clearing hadn’t ripped a hole in it. I expressed concern pretty much immediately about how effective salt would be against a bona fide Goetic power, but he just glowered at me and huffed a tangled strand of hair out of his face.

“Princess, the only thing better than salt is holy water, and I ain’t packin’ that today. I do have, like, what? Half a cup of Burger King salt? We make do, a’ight?”

Slowly, we crept toward the deer. Looking back, I’m not quite sure why, as Furfur was watching us the whole time, painfully aware of what we were doing, rigid and strong and unwavering. He didn’t really believe we would do anything to him, or that we could even if we tried. Part of me wants to believe it was out of habit--deer are normally so easily spooked--but I know that I was absolutely petrified. I had never encountered anything so strong that was unbound, and I could still remember that feeling of electricity and pain in my stomach when we nearly hit it with the car. I didn’t want to be near Furfur but I knew in the bottom of my heart that the only person qualified to get rid of him in the area was Dead Coyote, and armed only with salt packets? Well, he sure as shit couldn’t do it alone.

We were almost within salt-throwing distance when Furfur turned to me and smiled. Human teeth in a deer mouth, stretched as wide as it could, grinning at me with a glint of curiosity and maliciousness in its eyes. That tearing feeling in my abdomen came back and every nerve in my skin flared to life like a thousand white-hot pins were being jammed into me. Dead Coyote opened his mouth to speak, but his voice trailed off when I keeled over.

“Lonely. Empty.”

Furfur’s voice was an echoing, monotone whisper. His mouth moved in a way far too human to be anything but horrifying.

“Come to harm me. I can help you.”

I still don’t know why I remember everything he said. Maybe it’s because of the fact he was so powerful and supernatural that he just willed his little speech to burn itself into my mind. Maybe I did it myself, seeing as trauma can be a bitch. But, while I was rolling on the ground, clutching my stomach, vision blurry and nerve endings screaming, he spoke to me. Slow, rhythmic, almost taunting, and every word made my heart squeeze like it would burst.

He told me how disgusting I was. He told me how I made my mother miserable, how much she wished that she had aborted me. He told me that my father had forgotten I existed and was glad to be in prison, away from me. He harped about how I would one day die alone, forgotten and unloved, in the same shithole apartments I grew up in and that it would be just like Cheryl. I’d choke on my own vomit and nobody would find me for days, the victim of a low and savage upbringing. And about Cheryl? Oh, he talked on and on about Cheryl, smiling and speaking in a melodious, almost sing-song pattern that was somehow still as flat as its words before.

“You hated her, did you not?”

I choked that I didn’t.

“No. You did. You were jealous. She was stealing him, yes? You are glad she is dead.”

Dead Coyote’s lips were a tight line, his muscles taut. It was as though he was frozen in time, though I know it was just the mention of Cheryl that choked him up. There was something furious in him, a fire I could almost feel. I was afraid, so fucking afraid, that he hated me because of everything that fucking deer was spewing out of its mouth. Tears welled up in my eyes and I sobbed, loudly, that I didn’t want Cheryl dead.

“No. No. You wish for something else. Tell me what it is… princess.”

He snapped. It had been a long time since I had seen Dead Coyote lose his absolute shit, but he exploded toward Furfur like he was launched out of a cannon, salt balled up in his fist like he was planning on punching a deer in the face. Furfur only tilted his head and chuckled, perfectly still even as Dead Coyote began to bark dispelling incantations at him and shovel handfuls of salt in his face.

When the salt-well ran dry, he pulled a folding knife out of his pants pocket and took it to his arm. I didn’t see what he carved. I found out much later on that he now has a nice, jagged, but rather impressive scar in the shape of a magic triangle hiding amongst his tattoos. It’s the one seal that can control Furfur, the one that can make him play nice and go home.

But I missed the excitement afterward, being curled into a ball on the grass and heaving sobs into my knees until I heard Dead Coyote stop screaming. I hardly even noticed the pain receding over Furfur’s voice still ringing in my head, only snapping out of my trance when I felt something thud to the ground next to me.

A deer skull, with half-finished carvings riddling the bone that were redone with smudged paint marker. Furfur’s crest was right smack in the middle of its forehead, in metallic silver. A smaller, almost insignificant Seal of Solomon was beneath it, perfectly centered and meticulously drawn. I sniffled as I cursed Miranda the RA for being too stupid to realize that placement and sizing in sigils were more important than aesthetics. You don’t make the demon more powerful than the controller, and you better use the right damn pentacle. No wonder her pet was running wild.

I think the most pain I ever suffered was still aching from Furfur’s aura and trekking back to the car, and I almost begged Dead Coyote to let me just sleep it off in the clearing. It was worth it to go back to campus--me hobbling in and clutching my everything while he strolled in behind me holding his trophy by the antlers--to watch as he walked straight to the RA’s office, found little Miranda sitting at the desk watching Youtube videos, and slammed the skull so hard into the ground that the bone splintered and shattered in a dozen different directions. Miranda screamed and jumped out of her seat.

Dead Coyote snarled.

“If you don’t know how to walk the left-hand path, stay on your own goddamn road. And if I ever hear you have tried to summon some bullshit again, or if you think about hexing my girl, I will throw out every single goddamn reservation I have about doing harm unto others. Do you understand?”

She didn’t call campus police, for whatever reason. Maybe because she knew she fucked up. Either way, when aspirin and Tylenol did nothing to make me stop jittering and groaning, I decided to skip my dorm for the night and head down to Dead Coyote’s camp site at the parking lot down the road. We sat up for hours upon hours, blazing through a secret stash of dashboard weed despite his insistence that I not touch the stuff. It was the only thing that made me stop hurting, though, and that was all he cared about in the end.

I apologized, again and again, bawling in a cloud of smoke about all of the things Furfur said, everything about Cheryl. He watched me, eyebrow raised, before handing me a napkin from the center console.

“Ah, princess. C’mon. It’s Furfur. He lies about everything if he ain’t sealed properly. I know you didn’t hate Cher. You cried as much as I did when she died.”

He took a drag off his joint.

“You were jealous, though.”

When the weed was gone and he’d given me one of his patented, stoned-out-of-his-mind, how-are-you-this-goddamn-wise-when-you-can’t-even-remember-your-phone-number pep talks, he dropped me back off at my dorm. Miranda was gone, the RA’s office empty, and the lobby deserted. When I got to the hall, only Cereal Girl remained, staring at my door with half a Twix sticking out of her mouth like a cigar. Our eyes met, but she didn’t have to say a word. She just smirked and laughed, crumbs splattering across the ground and, probably because I was high as fuck, I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

Taped to my door was another crest of Glasyalabolas.

Yet again, Miranda had drawn it wrong.