#I Destroyed [I.D.] DEATH

[tainted-sweet-meats]

Another Vent Oc that I don't think I have shared here. This is actually a persona of mine. While I do have a main fursona I do have many personas that represent a lot of things in my life that I have outgrown in terms of toxic behaviors towards myself or things I have been through. Mainly jumping into toxic relationships as a form of self harm hence their character habits. N-1 Was created when I had I.Ded as NB at a time in my early 20's not realizing what I was in my transness and still figuring myself out..I had a ton of self-body hate as well. Keep in mind this character has been twisted into extremes I still use them as an Oc to vent with at times now as an oc you can read more about their info under the cut vvvvvvv

Full name: N-1 ( Negative-one) Gender/ sexuality: Nonbinary,??? Pronouns: They/Them Size: 9"1' Species: Demon of Coveting BirthPlace/Birthday: ???/ was never born Zodiac Sign: ???

Voiceclaim: N/A (bolded text is their demonic voice)

Speech quirk "I can never be what you want me to be..so I will love myself in self-injury!!" "Please show me your human love... conquer my heart..devour me entirely in unrestrained covet." "You're not very passionate..your love is clearly false..surely I should render your flesh from your body to show you my true affections." "I love breaking those who are mine... their submission to me is sweet. Oh, how they fluster me in such a way."

personality music

N/A

General info

N-1 is a creature that derives their life force from self pain, be it infliction to self or seeking out human lovers they know will never love them unconditionally. They are supernatural being that couldn't have come into existence without the help of humans. Human suffering through unrequited love created them. 

Do not be fooled by their pretty words, they love nothing more than to hunt humans to eventually grow bored of them and rip them apart. Their entire body is a walking weapon. They are entirely nude, even their faux heels are attached to their flesh. This is a part of themselves they severely hate. While they despise their femininity in every form be it body and more, they covet the femininity in humans. When they are in a state of mania their hair tends to attack itself, ripping away at their own skin to find relief from whatever is distressing them.

Their compacity for love is not human and is linked to extremes. Like most demons, their body and words are their absolute weaponry against mankind. A human should never try to love this creature because it will be their eventual demise.

Human interaction

N-1 is a highly coveting creature, with humans, they become entranced with the idea of a human versus the human themselves. They are enamored by a human's fragility and volatile emotional state of mind. There is something broken and yet complete about a human, that demons like N-1 enjoy. N-1 is entranced by their sense of choice, while they follow basic instincts, humans do not... humans are able to learn beyond it. An N-1 covets this nature of them.

With a human, they don't understand how a demon's body functions..... a human could easily succumb to their form of love. They give pretty words to their human lovers and reward them with bodily lacerations and even death. N-1 claims this is how they show their love for said human and they wish for said human to do the same to them. Though no human can truly conquer N-1, let alone cause a fatal blow to kill them. This angers N-1 to react violently to destroy and render said human, just to search for another who can fulfill their needs. N-1 claims if said human loved them enough said human would inflict the same pain they inflict on them. To show they truly love them unconditionally...

Likes: Human flesh, body worship, submission of others, self-lacerating, devouring lovers, women, coveting humans, collecting lovers Dislikes:  Their femininity, the dominance of a man

Summoning: Negativity in relationships, the sexual obsession with the flesh, coveting another, salt surrounding a bed or resting place Offerings: sexual rituals, gold, goat hearts, self inflictions at their alter

[narration-ator]

platonic!batsis masterlist

bats main masterlist

ONE-SHOTS

undoing fate inspired oneshot - none

inspired

i didn’t mean to do it, but i mean i had to do it - neal caffrey

white collar!crossover | you’ve never exactly fit in within your family. while they work to stop crime, you’ve, well… fallen for the bad boy, aka the person who just stole a painting from gotham museum of art. this goes about as well as you can imagine.

SERIES

it takes two (to make a thing go right) 'verse - conner kent

in the time after the deaths of the batfamily, you and your husband, conner kent, became the heads of the next-gen jl. after a two-year-long war for earth, you win, but at the cost of your and kon's lives. suddenly thrust two decades in the past, you have a chance to save your family... or destroy your world trying. multi-book universe

girl in calico 'verse - mcu!peter parker

mcu!crossover | when your brother's boyfriend asks for a favor, of course you come through. when that leads to you running away from gotham as a preventative measure before you can get kicked out and disowned, well... everyone's past comes back to bite them sooner or later. multi-book universe

one tangled web - tasm!peter parker

tasm!crossover | in the aftermath of your brother jason's death, you throw yourself into your work. somehow, this ends with you with spider powers, living in queens, new york with a fake i.d.--and a crush on your classmate, one peter parker. and suddenly, the tangled web you find yourself stuck in is no longer your own.

sisters by blood (sweat, and tears) ‘verse - graham humbert

There’s a few things the TV show got wrong, as all are wont to do, with the story of Emma Swan and the inhabitants of Storybrooke. One major plot point: Emma wasn’t alone upon her return with Henry. She brought with her her twin sister, Elizabeth. This is the Tale of the Forgotten Twin. story variant 3/3

[lucascecil]

Sixth Doctor - Project: Blue Box

TV Stories

◆ The Twin Dilemma

◆ Attack of the Cybermen

◆ Vengeance on Varos

◆ The Mark of the Rani

◆ The Two Doctors

◆ Timelash

◆ Revelation of the Daleks

◆ The Mysterious Planet

◆ Mindwarp

◆ Terror of the Vervoids

◆ The Ultimate Foe

Audio Stories

- 6th Doctor Adventures

◆ The Ratings War

◆ The Maltese Penguin

◆ Real Time

◆ Her Final Flight

◆ Cryptobiosis

◆ Return of the Krotons

◆ Voyage to Venus

◆ Voyage to the New World

◆ Trial of the Valeyard

◆ The End of the Line

◆ The Red House

◆ Stage Fright

◆ The Brink of Death

◆ The Headless Ones

◆ Like

◆ The Vanity Trap

◆ Conflict Theory

◆ One for All

◆ The Murder of Oliver Akkron

◆ Elevation

◆ The Rotting Deep

◆ The Tides of  the Moon

◆ Maelstrom

◆ The Mindless Ones

◆ Reverse Engineering

◆ Chronomancer

◆ Broadway Belongs to Mel

◆ Purification

◆ Time-Burst

◆ Girl in a Bubble

◆ The Corruptions

◆ The Wrong Side of History

- Main Range

◆ Davros

◆ Year of the Pig

◆ Whispers of Terror

◆ … ish

◆ The Reaping

◆ Memories of a Tyrant

◆ Emissary of the Daleks

◆ Harry Houdini’s War

◆ Plight of the Pimpernel

◆ Recorded Time and Other Stories

◆ 1963: The Space Race

◆ Breaking Bubbles and Other Stories

◆ Blood on Santa’s Claw and Other Stories

◆ The Wormery

◆ I.D./Urgent Calls

◆ Vampire of the Mind

◆ The Acheron Pulse

◆ The Lure of the Nomad

◆ Iron Bright

◆ Hour of the Cybermen

◆ The Hunting Ground

◆ The Marian Conspiracy - ★★★★★

If anyone is unsuse about how good pure historicals can be, check this out. This is a fun adventure but also charged with this sorrow and melancholy of knowing there is no changing the past; a concept a bit weird for a time travel series but still it’s in these situations that Doctor Who leaves me the most breathless. Add that to the impecable chemistry of the Sixth Doctor and Evelyn Smithe and you have one of the best companion introductions ever.

Complete review: here.

◆ The Spectre of Lanyon Moor - ★★☆☆☆

The first time I listened to this release, I left with a bitter taste in my mouth. It was not the worst thing ever, but extremely average. I had a lot more fun in Lanyon Moor this time around, but I am sad to say my opinion didn’t change all that much. There are good things here - the main characters have stellar chemistry, I love the setting and the premise. But it’s a story that don’t leave much of an impression and, even if not bad, is quite forgetful.

Complete review: here.

◆ The Apocalypse Element - ★★★☆☆

I can acknowledge the good things about The Apocalypse Element as a war epic in a huge scale (Daleks vs Time Lords) but it’s not the kind of story I like, specially because I started Doctor Who in 2020. I feel it would be dishonest to call this a tradicional Dalek story, but if we ignore this is the first time this specific conflict was done - it’s still a tale of a bunch of Daleks trying to invade a planet and destroy the whole universe. What gets to me the most is that I’m not necessarily a hater of traditional stories - I love how Lucie Miller/To the Death builds beautifully upon that with a huge character focus on part one and Masters of Earth is an action epic that is delightful to hear -, but this one I just don’t get. The best thing in my opinion is by far the regulars (the Doctor, Evelyn and Romana), which are great and very well characterized. I think average is too harsh, so consider this one of the good stories I like the least.

Complete review: here.

◆ Bloodtide - ★★★★★

An energetic adventure and full of powerful images. Bloodtide is one of the best Silurians stories and a triumph as a historical. Bringing Darwin and them together is a really clever choice that opens a lot of opportunities to work around biology concepts and ideas within the interspecies relationships. This is also a narrative full of wonder - for Galapagos, for its characters, for all this background it wants to tell. And I go head on in wonder with it, it’s a tale that fascinates me. All of that plus one of the best performances for Six and Evelyn and you have one of my favorite releases of the Sixth Doctor.

Complete review: here.

◆ Project: Twilight

◆ The Sandman

◆ Jubilee

◆ Doctor Who and the Pirates

◆ Medicinal Purposes

◆ Pier Pressure

◆ 100

◆ Assassin in the Limelight

◆ Project: Lazarus

◆ Arrangements for War

◆ The Nowhere Place

◆ The Crimes of Thomas Brewster

◆ The Feast of Axos

◆ Industrial Evolution

◆ Thicker Than Water

◆ The Wrong Doctors

◆ The Holy Terror

◆ Last of the Cybermen

◆ The Condemned

◆ The Doomwood Curse

◆ Brotherhood of the Daleks

◆ The Raincloud Man

◆ Patient Zero

◆ Paper Cuts

◆ Blue Forgotten Planet

◆ City of Spires

◆ The Wreck of the Titan

◆ Legend of the Cybermen

◆ The Curse of Davros

◆ The Fourth Wall

◆ Wirnn Isle

◆ Vortex Ice/Cortex Fire

◆ Antidote to Oblivion

◆ The Brood of Erys

◆ Scavenger

◆ The Widow’s Assassin

◆ Masters of Earth

◆ The Rani Elite

◆ Criss-Cross

◆ Planet of the Rani

◆ Shield of the Jotunn

◆ Order of the Daleks

◆ Colony of Fear

◆ Absolute Power

◆ Quicksilver

◆ The Behemoth

◆ The Middle

◆ Static

◆ Cry of the Vultriss

◆ Scorched Earth

◆ The Lovecraft Invasion

◆ The End of the Beginning

◆ The One Doctor

◆ The Juggernauts

◆ Catch-1782

◆ The Wishing Beast/The Vanity Box

◆ Spaceport Fear

◆ The Seeds of War

- Classic Doctors, New Monsters

◆ Judoon in Chains

◆ The Carrionite Curse

◆ Together in Electric Dreams

- The Companion Chronicles & Peladon & Stageplays

◆ Peri and the Piscon Paradox

◆ A Town Called Fortune - ★★★☆☆

◆ Night’s Black Agents

◆ The Ultimate Adventure

◆ Beyond the Ultimate Adventure

◆ The Death of Peladon

- The Lost Stories

◆ The Nightmare Fair

◆ Mission to Magnus

◆ Leviathan

◆ The Hollows of Time

◆ Paradise 5

◆ Point of Entry

◆ The Song of Megaptera

◆ The Macra

◆ The Guardians of Prophecy

◆ Power Play

◆ The First Sontarans

◆ The Ultimate Evil

◆ Mind of the Hodiac

- Short Trips

◆ Not Forgotten

◆ The Shadow of Serenity

◆ Primer Winner

◆ Murmurs of Earth

◆ The Authentic Experience

◆ Under ODIN’s Eye

◆ To Cut a Blade of Glass

◆ The Doctor’s Coat

◆ Mission Improbable

◆ These Stolen Hours

◆ The Darkened Earth

◆ The Wings of a Butterfly

◆ Intuition

◆ Mel-evolent

◆ Loud and Proud

Books

◆ State of Change

◆ Time of Your Life

◆ Millenial Rites

◆ Killing Groung

◆ Burning Heart

◆ Business Unusual

◆ Mission: Improbable

◆ Players

◆ Grave Matter

◆ The Quantum Archangel

◆ The Shadow in the Glass

◆ Instruments of Darkness

◆ Place of the Red Sun

◆ Blue Box

◆ Synthespians TM

◆ Spiral Scratch

[harrelltut]

卍 I Now [NWO] Magically INVOKE [MI = MICHAEL] My Biblically Black [Ancient] Egyptian [BAE = COSMIC] American [CA] Indian Birthright Magick on Earth [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] since I SOVEREIGNLY BEE AUTOCHTHONOUS II Biblically Black [Ancient] HITTITE America [HA = HATTUŠA] as iTUT® Trace My HIGHLY Classified Afterlife [CA] Birth Records from America’s [RA = RAMESES] Library of Congress as I Remain Under Secret [U.S.] Egyptian ATLANTEAN [SEA] Military PROTECTION in California [PC] 卍

[tempestdivine]

[image i.d. depicts prometheus bound by peter paul rubens (1611). a nude man with a chain around his wrist is being eaten by an eagle which is holding a claw against the man’s face. text is in the middle that says “obsidian’s descent” in cochin italics font.]

TITLE

obsidian’s descent

FANDOM

star trek (aos/kelvin timeline)

there will be a tos fanfic with obsidian later called obsidian solstice, but i don’t know when that will be published.

PAIRING

james kirk x male!oc x spock

QUICK SUMMARY

crorth is a peaceful class m planet renowned for it’s advancing technology, but it holds a haunting past of death and war. its people, the calderans, undergo a traditional period of rest where they hibernate for a decade. when obsidian comes out of his hibernation, him and his generation of calderans discover everyone else dead. obsidian and another calderan named volimar team up together to figure out the circumstances to their family’s death as the other calderans believe that they might have reverted back to their war-like behaviour and destroyed themselves. and along the way, kirk and his crew go out to assist the calderans, but things become complicated when obsidian want nothing to do with their help.

INCLUDES

main poly relationship with kirk, spock, and oc (and also, spirk) ; ace relationship ; unreliable narrator ; humanoid-alien main character ; negative character arc ; sloooooow burn ; different iteration of enemies to lovers (one-sided hatred; i.e. obsidian hates kirk and spock while they don’t) ; and lots of angst.

NOTE

this story is set a year after the events of star trek (2009) and will be going into au territory since it won’t be leading into into darkness.

PUBLISHED

ao3 link

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 26: Scraps

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences 

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content 

Chapter 26/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Twenty-Five+

Wherever she was, it was quiet and safe. It was also dark. She thought that her eyes were open, but she could not see anything at all. It was like the time her family had gone to that cave that Jesse James had hidden in, and the tour guide had turned off all the lights so they could see how dark it was. She and her brothers had waved their hands in front of each others’ faces, laughing themselves silly at the fact that they couldn’t see them. But she wasn’t worried; not now. The taste of elderflower tickled her tongue, she was bone-weary, and whatever she was lying on was deliciously soft. A sound like water lapping at the shore rocked her, and she felt no pain in this half-world.

It was her time; and she was ready to go.

Something cool touched her; something sharp and prickly that prodded her forehead, her cheek, her chest. She wheezed and tried to protest the invasion, but no words came out. It was like trying to talk underwater. A babble of sounds mixed with the rushing noise in her ears; and though she thought she heard voices, she could not make out their words. Her eyes were shut after all, and she had not the energy to pry them open. She wished they would stop, these things that tormented her. As the voices grew louder and came into sharper focus, she tried to flinch away and failed. Being touched hurt. The voices hurt. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything…

“….Miranda….”

Oh. That voice. She knew that voice. It washed over her like dark honey and she panted, desiring more of its soothing tones.

“Severus?” Her own voice was a pathetic plea, but she was past caring about trifling things like dignity and pride. She was thirsty for his voice, thirsty for his touch, thirsty for his very presence, and dying—of thirst or something else—but dying all the same.

“I’m here. Don’t talk. I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s.”

Her heart tripped; and though she had surfaced to intolerable pain, she was willing to bear it for a little longer, if only for the pleasure of hearing him speak. She was no longer content to lie still and wait, she had to move, had to touch him. But her limbs ignored her like rebellious children, and she could only whimper her disapproval as the thing underneath her jerked her body. White-hot streaks of agony stabbed her everywhere, and she heard him swear brokenly under his breath. That wouldn’t do. She would be brave for him. She quieted her complaints and willed her eyes to open. And, though it took every ounce of strength she had left, open they did, and she saw him.

His face was pale, like always, and his hair hung limply on either side of his angular cheeks. It was oily today, like it was when he’d spent too much time in the potions room, or when he’d forgotten to wash it for too long. When they had first met, he had been careless about that aspect of his appearance. But after she’d gone to Romania, every time she saw him, his hair had been scrupulously clean. She’d never mentioned it, but she had noticed. He must not have expected to see her today.

“Severus,” she whispered, “it’s been good.”

His tone was stern when he answered her. “Miranda, I absolutely forbid you to die. It is completely out of the question.”

A laugh bubbled up in her, and she tasted blood in her mouth. “I don’t think there’s anything that can stop that now.”

“You took the Stasis Potion, did you not?”

She struggled to remember, but her brain felt soft. “I…think the Spiridus…fed it to me.”

The ground jerked beneath her, and her stomach rolled as the world around her started to spin. A sickening heat flashed through her body, and she thought she might retch. She could not tell how long the torture continued, but just when she thought it might go on forever, it stopped abruptly. Now she was blessedly still, and a soft, wet rain was kissing her face. God she was thirsty.

“Kiss me, Severus.”

A shattered moan escaped his throat, and he brought his lips down on hers. She drank the life she knew he was willing into her, even though she could feel it pouring back out of the innumerable wounds that had destroyed her body. Everything she’d ever felt for him; desire, anger, friendship, compassion, blended together into a brilliant mass. She sank into it, and as it washed over her she felt a tenderness beating at its core. As the jackel-men had ripped open her body, this feeling wrenched open her soul, and she was undone.

His heart was in his eyes, and he was close enough that she could feel his breath. She would tell him now, before she lost the chance to do so.

“Severus, I want to tell you…”

He laid his finger over her lips, and she closed them against the weight. “I said you are not allowed to die.”

His hand rested gently on her cheek, and she turned her face towards it. Then there was darkness again, and an awful sensation; she was being sucked dry, pulled apart, suffocated.

Then there was nothing.

*****

Apparating in a state of agitation, particularly while bringing the body of an injured person along for the ride, was a feat that Severus did not desire to repeat any time in the near future. He glanced at Miranda’s inert form, finding that the experience had thrown her back into unconsciousness. As he choked on the malodorous stench of decay that hung in the air, he reflected that it was probably better that way. Whoever was responsible for the brilliant idea of placing the emergency entrance to St. Mungo’s between a line of Muggle dumpsters should be submerged in one and lit on fire.

He flicked his wand violently at the stretcher he’d transfigured from Miranda’s sofa, levitating it off the filthy street with a sickening jerk. Berating himself for his carelessness, he ran his fingers lightly over her battered face. Her breath was still coming in shallow, irregular pants, and the pulse at her throat was thready. A steadier wand swish set the stretcher moving, hovering through the air on invisible strings. He hurried up the delivery ramp with his patient close behind, to a large metal door painted with the warning “Do Not Block.” His slapped the ‘D’ with far more force than necessary, and an unpleasant pulling sensation drew both of them through the entrance into the brightly lit passage beyond. A witch with dark hair and enormous, rectangular glasses was perched at a desk, imperiously directing a queue of witches and wizards in various degrees of distress. He joined it begrudgingly, burning through the remainder of his patience with the speed of an inferno devouring tinder.

“Welcome to St. Mungo’s,” the witch said in a voice like a strangled goat when she finally deigned to notice him. “What is the nature of your emergency?”

“Severe injuries sustained in battle,” he replied tersely.

The welcome witch was unimpressed. “Name of the injured party?”

“Miranda Jane Rose.”

“Affiliation?”

“Order of the Phoenix.” He put his hand on Miranda’s wrist, reassuring himself that her heart was still beating as the inane interrogation continued.

“Magical I.D.?”

Would the witch never get on with it? “I don’t have it.”

She gave him a disapproving sniff and thrust a stack of parchment into his hand. “I see. In that case, you’ll have to fill out all of these.”

“I hardly think this is the time for such nonsense. Or is it the hospital’s practice to allow patients bleed to death while they attempt to satisfy the insatiable demands of pointless bureaucracy?”

“Hospital protocol exists for a reason, sir.”

“Apparently so. The more patients who perish in the anteroom, the fewer you actually have to bother with treating.”

“It’s not my fault you forgot the necessary parchments. Residence?”

“A cabin at Upper Diddling, near Brighton.” Two more questions and then he was going to cast a Confundus and take her to triage, protocol be damned.

“Place of birth?”

“Edgewater, Kansas.”

“Kansas?” The welcome witch peered over the rim of her oversized glasses. “Do you mean the Kansas in America?”

“No, I mean the Kansas in Northumberland,” he sneered. “Of course I bloody well mean the Kansas in America.”

“Is she a MACUSA citizen?”

“Yes.”

She clucked her tongue. “Why didn’t you say so at the beginning? Foreign citizens require a completely different set of parchment.”

“What this woman requires is a healer’s attention immediately,” Severus growled, sliding his wand out of his sleeve. “And if you possessed the brains of a flobberworm, she would already be receiving it.”

“One more word like that out of you, sir, and I’ll be calling security.”

“Professor Severus, I wasn’t expecting to see you again today.” Healer A’isha appeared from around the corner, and Severus quickly replaced his wand. “Has something happened? There is blood on your lips.”

His hand automatically went to his mouth and his fingers came away streaked with red. “It’s not mine. It’s…”

“What is going on here?” Healer A’isha had cleared the desk and now had an unobstructed view of Miranda’s mangled body. “Is she one of yours?”

“Yes.”

Healer A’isha began barking orders. “Miss Rhea, I am taking this woman and Professor Severus to triage.”

Miss Rhea put her hands on her hips and snarled another attack. “Healer A’isha, these people are not cleared to enter the hospital. I was just about to pull the files with their security questions. That is, assuming they’re even on the Order’s list at all.”

“I am overriding that protocol.”

“If they turn out to be Death Eaters, I want it noted that it was your rule-breaking that let them in.”

“I’ll put it in my report. This way, Professor Severus.”

“But the parchments,” the welcome witch whined as they maneuvered Miranda around the impediment of her desk.

“Send them up with Healer Augustus. He will be on the hourglass within the next ten minutes. And send up Healer Hippocrates, too.”

“Healer A’isha, you know he hates to work when he’s already flipped his hourglass for the day!”

“He’ll hate it more if he misses this, I promise you.”

Severus could have kissed her. As they moved swiftly through the candlelit corridors, he felt air moving through his lungs for the first time since he’d seen Catalina at the castle gates. Even as they walked, Healer A’isha was making her preliminary examination, her long brown fingers moving lightly over Miranda’s motionless form.

“Tell me what happened,” she said in a tone both firm and gentle.

“She was in Romania on a mission for the Order. There was a battle with an army of creatures. We thought she was lost, but a being called a Spiridus brought her here.”

“A Spiridus? I have only read about them. What potions has she taken?”

“At least three vials of Strengthening Solution.”

“Ah. That accounts for her pulse. She should not have taken so many.”

“I am aware of that. She also took a Stasis Potion.”

“I am not familiar with that potion. Is it one of yours?”

“Yes.” Unlike the welcome witch’s sniping, this volley of questions was somehow soothing to him.

“When Healer Augustus comes, I will need you to list the components of the completed potion to him.”

“I understand.”

“What were the creatures she fought?”

“I don’t know what they are called.  I lent her comrade my portkey to come here. She will be able to tell you more about the battle itself.”

At last they entered the winged doors of triage, and Severus brought the stretcher to a halt. Healer A’isha ran her wand slowly over Miranda’s body. As she traced each limb, an image of her patient’s bones and organs appeared in color-coded light. Green for health, yellow for mild injury, purple for severe injury, red for mortal injury…Merlin there was so much red…

“I should have brought her via portkey as well, it would have been faster,” he blurted. “All the members of the Order have been carrying portkeys since Arthur’s attack. But I remembered what you said this morning about moving injured persons and I thought…”

“Peace, Professor,” she said, halting his babbling. “It was better to bring her the slower way and avoid moving her as much as possible. You did the right thing.”

“Thank you,” he choked, his vision blurring for a moment. He shut his eyes, he was not going to cry again, not here, not now.

“Healer A’isha?” A disgustingly chipper nurse in blue robes swept into triage, with an irate Romanian witch close at hand. “I’m not sure, but I think this witch is looking for someone. She came in with the finger-print linked portkey, so I don’t think she’s a Death Eater; but the Rosetta Stone is acting up again; and she doesn’t speak any English; and we’ve just been going round and round for the last twenty minutes.”

“Thank you Nurse. That will be all,” Healer A’isha said, dismissing the woman briskly.

“{Professor Snape, this is the most disorganized hospital I have ever seen. Things are not like this in Romania,}” Catalina complained.

“{I don’t disagree, Doamnă Dragnea,}” Severus replied.

The next half hour was a blur of answering questions, translating between Healer A’isha and Catalina, and doing his best to avoid staring at the lighted map that revealed the extent of Miranda’s internal injuries. He could read the thing well enough to tell that his Stasis Potion had worked better than he’d ever hoped that it would. Unfortunately, he found that he was in no way gratified by that knowledge. Rather, he felt vaguely sick when he realized that his efforts at brewing an experimental potion were the only thing standing between his lover and her grave.

A rotund Healer with spectacles and a white handlebar mustache joined them presently. He barely bothered to introduce himself as Hippocrates Smethwyck before he and Healer A’isha whisked Miranda away for treatment. For a moment, the ground seemed to shift beneath Severus’s feet, as though he had been running for hours and had come to a sudden and unexpected stop.

He had no idea what to do next.

An athletic boy in lime green robes, surely too young to be a Healer stepped up to him, saving him the trouble of taking a decision.

“Hello, Professor Snape,” the boy said with the wide-eyed eagerness of a Hufflepuff. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Augustus Pye.”

Severus eyed the boy—young man—shrewdly. “Of course I remember you. Class of ’89. Decent N.E.W.T. work.”

“Thank you, sir. Coming from you, that’s a compliment. I’m a full Healer now.”

“Congratulations.” A headache was starting to pound behind his eyes, and he was beginning to see stars at the edge of his field of vision.

“Why don’t we go find somewhere quiet to sit,” Augustus suggested. “I’m afraid we’ve got a little more parchment work to fill out. Might as well be comfortable while we do.”

“As you say.”

Answering yet more questions sounded as appealing as taking tea with Dolores Umbridge, but Severus had not an ounce of fight left in him. He allowed the new Healer to lead him and Catalina into a deserted alcove, fitted up with a low-burning candelabra and three enormously comfortable armchairs. Catalina promptly curled herself into a ball and fell asleep, and Severus couldn’t say that he blamed her.

“Okay, Professor. Let’s take it from the top.”

*****

Severus’s throat was raw when he pried his stinging eyes open sometime later. He did not ever remember closing them, but when he had rubbed them with the backs of his chapped hands, and glanced out the arched window that graced the alcove, he saw the moon was high in the sky. When he’d arrived at the hospital on this second errand it had been barely sundown. It must be near midnight now. Catalina still slumbered in the chair next to him, and Healer Pye was nowhere in sight. He made an attempt to extract himself from the armchair, but his joints were so stiff that it was not worth the effort. His stomach rumbled, requesting his attention, but he ignored it, as though his discomfort might somehow aid Miranda in surviving the night.

Light footsteps drew his attention, and he saw Healer A’isha enter the alcove. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her expression was implacably serene. As she sank into the vacant chair, he braced himself for the blow that he knew he could no longer avoid.

“Miss Miranda is alive, Professor Severus.” Healer A’isha’s voice was as cool and calm as her bearing. “Healer Augustus and Nurse Grace are settling her in a room, and then you will be able to see her.”

“Thank Merlin.” It was as close to a prayer as he’d ever said in his adult life.

“Infidel,” Healer A’isha teased with the ghost of a smile. “We have done as much as we can tonight. We must wait until her body has cleared the Strengthening Solution before we attempt anything further.”

“It is dangerous to wait, I take it?”

“Yes, but it is more dangerous to add to the stress on her systems now.”

“I see.” He no longer felt hungry—he felt like his stomach was full of lead.

“It will be as Allah wills, but do not lose hope. She is strong, and we will do our best by her. I promise.”

He snorted. “You say that to everyone.”

“I do. And I mean it every time.”

“Healer A’isha, I am well aware that your promise is worth fifty of any other Healer’s. But don’t lie to me. If she is dying, simply say so.”

“We are all dying, Professor Severus. But if she has any family or friends who would want to see her alive, you may wish to give them the opportunity.”

She did not torture him by completing the thought, and he nodded numbly, grasping the mirror she held out to him with stiff fingers.

“Just return it to a Nurse when you are finished. I must go home now, but you are in good hands, and I will return in the morning.”

“Thank you, Healer A’isha.”

“It is my pleasure, Professor Severus.”

He forced his creaky legs to stand so that he could return her bow. Once he had gained his feet, he paced the alcove, loosening his limbs and avoiding the calls that he knew he had to make. He allowed himself five minutes of procrastination, then he turned the mirror over in his hands.

A wizard with bright eyes and a voice too cheerful for the witching hour appeared in the glass. “Good evening, sir. Where can I direct  your call?”

“Mr Aaron Lee, number 76, MACUSA Embassy, London.”

*****

“{I think she looks worse now than when we brought her here,}” Catalina said darkly.

“{I don’t recall asking for your opinion,}” Severus retorted, privately agreeing with the Romanian’s assessment.

The three of them were alone at last in a cramped, windowless, but mercifully private room in Jude the Unfortunate’s Ward for Hopeless Cases. In addition to the poisoning from the extra Strengthening Solution and the physical damage to Miranda’s body, the căpcăuns contained a venom in their claws that was spreading a slow, deadly infection throughout her system. Add to that the Stasis Potion which, while it was working for her, was also, in some ways, working against the Healers, it was anyone’s guess as to whether or not she would ultimately pull through.

Severus was pacing the paltry length of the sterile space, dodging chairs not nearly as comfortable as the ones in the alcove. His attention was divided between staring at the charmed etching on the wall that claimed Miranda was still breathing; and staring at the body on the narrow bed that was so still he hardly believed that the etching was correct. Miranda was laid out as for the undertaker, as pale and motionless as a marble gisant waiting to grace a tomb. She was clean though; someone had washed away the blood and sweat and dirt. The wounds were staunched and dressed where required. Her caretakers had even taken the trouble to comb her hair and plait it into a shining braid that snaked over her shoulder. She looked like the storied princess, patiently awaiting the live-giving kiss.

Unfortunately, he was not that kind of a prince, and this was not a fairy tale.

Around two in the morning, according to the miniature astronomical clock above the door, Rachel Lee joined the somber trio. She came bearing a pair of bento boxes and a thermos of hot tea, and she would not be satisfied until both Catalina and Severus were crammed into the chairs, balancing the offerings on their knees. Catalina dug in immediately, but Severus picked at the miso salmon and the rice, until Rachel cajoled him into trying the cucumber salad. The tanginess of the vinegar married with the depth of the sesame oil coaxed his dormant tastebuds to wakefulness, and he found he had more than enough room to demolish the whole of the dish and wish there were more.

“{I can’t stay long, Maggie is waking up constantly to nurse these days. Growth spurt, I think,} Rachel said in ponderous, but intelligible Romanian.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at the American witch. “{Rachel. You didn’t tell me you spoke Romanian.}”

She winked at him. “{You didn’t ask. I picked it up when I was procrastinating translating all those potion texts. Why don’t you both come back and sleep for a while? We have loads of room in our flat.}”

Catalina’s exhausted eyes brightened at the mention of a bed. “{But only if it will not be any trouble,}” she stipulated wearily.

“{No trouble at all,}” Rachel insisted. “Well, Severus? Won’t you come too?"

“No, I thank you. I want to be here when Aaron arrives with Miranda’s parents.” He did not, in point of fact, want to be there when Miranda’s parents arrived, but he felt that he owed them his presence, even though he doubted they would return the sentiment.

“I understand, and it’s a standing offer. Anytime you want to drop in, day or night, no warning necessary.”

She collected the dishes and left him with a MACUSA eagle that would gain him admittance to the Embassy. Catalina trailed after her, yawning. He shifted in the chair, but every position was equally uncomfortable. Eventually his legs fell asleep, and he sat, staring at Miranda over his steepled fingers, wandering in and out of a doze as the minutes ticked away.

Mercury was halfway across the painted sky on the clock, and Severus’s sleepy brain registered it was nearly dawn, when the door opened again. Aaron, almost unrecognizable without his carefree grin, led a pair of Muggles into the hushed room, and Severus rose stiffly to his feet with all the eagerness of a man facing the gibbet. Miranda’s father was a barrel-chested man, nearly as tall as Aaron, with piercing blue eyes and a neatly trimmed, hoary beard. Her mother was a willowy woman, her dark hair peppered with silver, her grey eyes the mirror of Miranda’s and brimming with tears.

“Conor, Monica, this is Severus Snape, the fella I told you about,” Aaron said, breaking the silence. “Severus, Conor and Monica Rose.”

Now that he was facing Miranda’s parents, pinned by Conor’s suspicious glare and Monica’s gaunt sorrow, Severus wished he had taken Rachel up on her offer of respite. What a damned, sentimental idiot he was to think he should be here at a time like this. What was he even supposed to say to these Muggles? So nice to meet you Mr Rose, I’m the one who’s been fornicating with your daughter for the last year or so. Mrs Rose, how enchanting to finally make your acquaintance. I am a great admirer of your embroidery work, especially the piece gracing the wall of your daughter’s bedroom, with which I am intimately familiar.

In the end, when Mr Rose crushed his hand in an iron grip, he simply muttered, “Good morning Mr Rose. I am sorry we did not meet under better circumstances.”

Conor pumped his hand once and released him. “So am I, son. So am I.”

Severus bristled at the epithet ‘son,' but bit his tongue. Conor had obviously not meant it as a compliment, and in any case, he had already moved past Severus and drawn up a chair to sit at his daughter’s shoulder.

Monica held out her hand to him in a polished, but distracted greeting.

“Professor Snape, we’re glad to meet you. From what Aaron was telling us, we have you to thank that Miranda is still among the living,” she said warmly, but her eyes kept darting between his face and her daughter’s body.

Her gratitude made him feel worse than Conor’s spite ever could have accomplished. “I’ve done nothing to deserve your thanks, madam.”

She neither confirmed nor denied his statement, and he let go of her hand in order to place a chair for her by Miranda’s side. She slipped into it, and brushed a stray lock back from her daughter’s bruised face. Aaron took the final chair, and Severus backed away as far as the room would allow, feeling as unwelcome as Actaeon in Diana’s wood. He wouldn’t put it past Conor to turn and rend him if the opportunity presented itself.

“I don’t know, Conor,” Monica said in a strained voice after she’d examined the state of her child. “She looks better than she did after that time with the Jersey Devils. Remember? It took the Healers a week to set her straight and we still had to get Father Donnelly to exorcise her.”

Conor glanced up at his wife, and a boyish smile broke across his face, making him appear years younger. “You might be right, Butterfly. Do you remember that, Aaron?”

Aaron let out a low whistle. “Sure do, Conor. The Tin-Hat Brigade was busy for a month, writing copy for the tabloids, trying to convince the No-Majs that the whole shebang was a result of fumes from a putrid cranberry bog.” He gave a jaw-splitting yawn. “She’ll pull through. She’s too tough to die.”

“Don’t I know it. Takes after her Ma.”

“You’ve got the eagle I gave you?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. The welcome witch’ll be able to call an escort for you when you’re ready for a break. Rachel’ll be around later this morning, and I’ll be back after work.”

“Thank you Aaron, for everything,” Monica said.

“No trouble at all. I’ll see you soon.”

The room seemed smaller after Aaron had taken his leave, rather than more spacious. Severus was painfully aware of the awkwardness of the situation and, much as he was loathe to leave Miranda’s side, he was becoming more certain by the second that his presence was not at all desired by her progenitors. With a sick heart, he slunk towards the door, Bellerophon repulsed for having dared to sully paradise.

He was in the hallway when Monica spoke his name; but he pulled the door shut after him, pretending not to hear.

He would rather wander the world blind and broken by his own decision than give the gods the pleasure of casting him out.

*****

On Tuesday the Healers decided to risk administering the first round of antidotes to the struggling patient. That night, Miranda was feverish, tossing and muttering nonsense; still unaware of her surroundings. In the small hours of the morning, she finally settled into a quieter sleep; although her face was still flushed and her breathing rapid and shallow. Monica dozed, feet tucked up on her chair and her chin resting on her knees; Conor sat, busily whittling with a large pocket knife, letting the scraps of wood fall heedlessly to the floor; and Severus paced, determined to wear a track in the tile beneath his feet. He had not bothered to enquire if the Roses desired his presence at their daughter’s sickbed, and he had come into the room, both this evening and the one previous, prepared to insist on his entitlement to be there. He had a list of reasons, carefully curated and impeccably logical; not one of them stooping to the baseness of feeble-minded emotion. Neither of his antagonists condescended to question him, and while Monica was unwaveringly polite, Conor's adroit blend of silence and pointed observation communicated his opinion of his daughter’s paramour with perfect clarity.

“Miranda never mentioned you,” Conor said matter-of-factly without looking up from his creation.

Although he had thought his armor impervious to slights, Severus was taken aback by how much that revelation stung him.

“That does not surprise me,” he replied evenly.

“Aaron mentioned you’re wrapped up in some dodgy shit over here.”

“That is not untrue.”

“Said you’re head-over-heels stupid for my girl, but that nobody’s supposed to know.”

Severus was going to hex that American blabbermouth at the first available opportunity. “Aaron talks too damned much.”

“He does, don’t he?”

Conor let that comment hang in the air for a while and continued his work; slowly transforming the smooth wood into a trim little sparrow. Severus resumed his pacing, dividing his attention between crafting an appropriately acrid diatribe with which to revenge himself on Aaron Lee, and berating himself for the mistake of giving the man that much information in the first place.

At last Conor spoke again, and his voice was soft, unmarred by the edge of hostility that had been present in it up to now.

“You know, I’ve always been proud of Miranda. Couldn’t ask for a tougher, smarter girl. And sweet too. Sweeter than she ought to be. But damn if she don’t scare the shit out of me something regular. I suppose every father comes to the understanding that he can’t protect his children, ‘specially once they’re grown. But most fathers don’t have to watch their girls get cut to pieces by things that ain’t supposed to exist except in nightmares or Hell. Humbles a man.”

“Most unfortunate.”

“Eh, a man has to be humbled now and then. It ain’t good to have too much pride, makes your head soft.” He looked up from his whittling finally, and his eyes had the twinkle in them that Severus had only witnessed when Conor was talking to those in his favor. “What I’m saying is, I’m glad that she’s got you at her back. Even if you are stuffed shirt Englishman.”

It was the most flattering insult Severus had ever received, and he was embarrassed at how much it soothed his troubled heart. “I take it you expect me to thank you for that.”

“Nah. I expect you to sit down and play a round of Rummy with me. That pacing’s driving me nuts.”

*****

By the end of the week, the Healers were cautiously hopeful that Miranda would recover. The balancing act continued between the spells and potions she required, and the amount of stress her damaged body could stand; but the scales seemed to have tipped decidedly in her favor. Severus found that he was firmly ensconced in the strange little coterie of her family and friends; and—stranger still—he found that he was pleased to have been accepted into it. His days had settled into a grueling, but satisfactory, routine which allowed him to spend most of his unscheduled time in Miranda’s hospital room. He did yield to Monica’s insistence that they take a walk in the early evenings, and he did consent to eat whatever food Rachel foisted on him. But he drew the line at actually retiring to the Lees’ flat to sleep, preferring to catch what rest he could at Miranda’s bedside, or in his office between classes.

On Saturday evening, the entire party conspired to drag him away to the Embassy for dinner. Rachel had prepared a feast of sushi, sukiyaki, pickles, and sliced mango. Intoxicated by the mutual good-will, and one glass too many of sake, he had relented to Rachel’s gentle commands that he lie down after dinner for a catnap. When he opened his eyes several hours later and stumbled into the darkened kitchen, he cursed to himself that he’d let so much time slip through his fingers. With clumsy hands he lit the lamps and put the kettle on for tea, flinching at every clang and clatter that he made. He did manage to wrestle both the tea leaves and the water into the pot without breaking anything or burning himself by the time Catalina slipped into the flat.

“{Good evening, Severus,}” she said, looking amused by his state. “{It is good that you finally slept. We were becoming worried for your sanity.}”

“{A concern I share every day, considering the company I keep,}” he quipped. But the nap had done him good—though he’d never admit to it. “{How is she?}”

“{The same. The Healers say it is only a matter of time before she wakes up, and that then they will have a better idea of how long it will take for her to recover.}”

He poured them both a cup of tea and they gathered companionably at the table to partake of it. “{Will you be returning home soon?}” he asked.

“{Yes. I want to stay until she wakes if I can. But I cannot put off going home for much longer. Gabi is waiting for me.}” Her brow furrowed at the mention of her brother, and she hastily turned the subject. “{Before I go, I would like to meet your son, if opportunity permits.}”

Severus choked on the tea he was attempting to drink. “{Pardon me? I do not have a son.}”

“{I…you don’t?}” Catalina eyed him dubiously. “{Are you certain of that?}”

The memory of the appalling conversation he’d had with Miranda in this very flat sprang to mind and he shook his hair forward to ensure that his ears were concealed. “{Quite.}”

“{Oh. Well. Never mind then.}” She took a prim sip. “{Is English weather always so dismal this time of year?}”

“{Catalina,}” he said in as stern a tone as he could manage in another language. “{Why were you under the impression that I had a son?}”

Her cheeks colored and she pursed her lips. “{I was making assumptions where I shouldn’t have. I knew that Miranda had a son and I thought that her child would naturally be yours as well. Pardon me for the mistake and for prying.}”

Had the lights in this room always been so blinding? And why had he suddenly forgotten  how to breathe? Quick, fool, pull yourself together and get whatever information you can out of her.

“{How do you know about Miranda’s son? It’s not something she talks about with most people.}” Like her lover, for instance.

Catalina gestured like an angry bird. “{We talked about it on the mountaintop when we were waiting for the Sânziene. I already knew she was a mother because Doamna Lupul made it a stipulation that she be one to participate in the competition. I was exempt from that requirement because my brother was one of the lost children, but Doamna Lupul said that a mother would have true sympathy for the families who had lost their sons and daughters, and so could be trusted with competing, even though she was a foreigner.}”

“{Naturally.}” It took every ounce of restraint to hold his tongue in the hopes that she would continue and reveal whatever else she knew.

The silence discomposed her and he was rewarded. “{She said his name is Isaac and he’s eleven this summer. I assume he is in America?}”

“{Where else would he be?}” Merlin, if he were that old he must be David Clearwater’s progeny. He would be at Ilvermorny by now. How could she never have mentioned him?

Catalina hastily finished her cup and excused herself to bed, but Severus hardly noticed her going. He let his tea go cold and left it sitting on the table as he wandered out into the night towards the hospital. But when he reached Purge and Dowse, Ltd, he kept walking, venting his frustration on an empty beer can that he hexed up the deserted street as he fumed.

A son. David Clearwater’s son. And she’d never told him—never even hinted—insisted she couldn’t have children at all. But then, he’d never thought to ask the devious woman if she already had children, had he? None of it made any sense to him. No, that wasn’t true. Some of it did make sense; and as the threads wove together, he did not like the picture they made in the least. But he was a logical man; a sensible man; and so he did what any man of his ilk would do, and made a list.

Item the first; Miranda had a life that he knew nothing about; moreover, it was a life with which she wanted him to have nothing to do.

Item the second; Miranda was pleased enough with his services as a companion and a lover that she had spoken favorably of her return to Britain following her Romanian misadventure. As far as he knew, she had no immediate plans to return to America.

Item the third; Miranda was a capricious witch, and he would not be at all surprised if one day she left him with no warning whatsoever.

Item the fourth; she had beguiled him to the point that, if he were not already in love with Lily Evans, he would think that he harbored the traitorous emotion for her instead.

Item the fifth; he had even started to hope that one day—in some far off nebulous time that would surely never come to pass because he would be dead before it could—they would make a home together with a stone cottage and a potions room and a dueling hall and a garden in the back (not that he’d imagined it in any sort of depth, thank you very much).

Item the sixth; She obviously was making no such plans. How could she wish to make a future with someone when she could not even be bothered to tell him such pertinent information as the fact that she had a bloody child back home that called her Mama?

Item the seventh; if he were wise, he would end this whole incautious affair immediately. It was an irresponsible whim and indulging it—especially since she obviously did not suffer the same doltish regard for him—was moronic at best.

Item the eighth; Hecate’s Withered Tit, he did love her. Thank Merlin he’d never been stupid enough to say so.

Item the ninth; he was a damned idiot.

He slashed the can with a savage hex and it skittered through a broken grate into the sewer. His breath came in pants and he raked his fingers through his hair, as though he might plough some sense into his brain. The moon was his only witness; and he thought that he could see the cold goddess’s face; heartlessly taunting him from her chariot on high.

*****

Something was resting on Miranda’s chest. Something warm and comfortable. She wanted to wrap her arms around it and keep it there, but she couldn’t seem to move them. She also wanted to scratch her nose; the itch there was driving her crazy. But  there was no sense in fretting about things she couldn’t manage, so she just floated along in this dreamy limbo; certain that at some point she would be directed what to do next. She knew she was dead. And since she wasn’t in torment, she assumed that she’d avoided Hell. Maybe this was Purgatory, and soon she’d be handed her load to carry up the mountain where she would sing the praises of God with her fellows on the climb to Heaven.

Gradually a chill seeped into her bones, and the pressure on her chest became crushingly burdensome. She struggled to breathe against it, and wondered why she bothered. If she was dead, what use was oxygen? But struggle she did, and with every pant, another part of her body joined the chorus of pain. Her head hurt. Her legs hurt. Her stomach hurt. Her chest hurt. Good Lord, even her fingernails and her hair hurt.

Maybe she was in Hell after all.

There was a scraping noise in the world outside her body, and for a sick moment she thought it was a demon preparing a blade to vivisect her like she’d seen in a picture once as a child. She thought she’d been shriven before she’d made that final quest, but maybe it hadn’t taken.

Deciding it was better to see the evil threatening her than imagine what might be there, she bravely pried her eyes open. At first everything was a confused blur of light and shadows, but as she ponderously blinked, her vision cleared.

“You look like hell, Pixie,” said a voice that was almost as comfortable as the weight she’d left behind.

She peeled open her dry, cracking lips and mustered a smile at the sight of her dear Papa. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’ll bet you handed those mongrels their asses.” He leaned down to kiss her, and his whiskers tickled her cheek. “It’s good to see you, girl.”

“Where’s Mama?”

“I’m here, darling.” Her mother came into view next, kissing her with cool, soothing lips. “You gave us a scare.”

She tried to lift her arms to embrace her parents, but they were too heavy. “Why can’t I move?”

“You’ve been mostly dead for a week now. The Healers are pretty sure you’ll be right as rain eventually, but it’s going to take time,” Conor reassured her.

She should have been happy. Hell—she’d cheated Death—she should have been ecstatic. But instead she felt like an abandoned shell; like a stranded traveler who’d missed the last train; like the lame boy who had hobbled along after the pied piper only to be shut out of paradise.

“Mira, are you alright?” Monica’s discerning eyes were searching her face with concern. It would frighten them to know that their daughter was lying there wishing she were dead. They mustn’t know. She wouldn’t let them know.

“I mean, all things considered, I’m peachy.” She tried to smile for them and doubted she managed. “How long have I been here?”

“Severus brought you here a week ago tomorrow,” Conor said with an ease that startled her.

“Severus? When did you meet him? And when did you get to be on a first name basis with him? He’s usually a stick in the mud.”

Her parents exchanged a knowing look over her head, the kind that usually made her want to roll her eyes in irritation. Unfortunately, her eyes hurt too much to roll at the moment.

“What can I say, Pixie, we bonded over our mutual terror that you were going to kick it.” Conor laughed. “I’m not denying that he’s a stuffed shirt, but the man’s crazy for you, that’s for sure.”

Miranda no longer felt the pressure on her chest—she felt like she was in free-fall. She hadn’t said anything stupid had she? She did remember being emotional when Severus had found her dying in her cabin, but she hadn’t thought she’d actually said anything about it. Hadn’t he stopped her before she’d passed the point of no return? God she hoped so.

“I don’t know about that,” she protested weakly, but the door opened, and her admirer swept into the room, commanding everyone’s attention.

He looked angry, but that was usual. Her parents greeted him like an old friend, which was strange to witness, but not unusual for them. Her parents had a way of befriending even the most standoffish persons. In a whirl of hand-shaking and congratulations, her parents tactfully excused themselves to the tea room, and before she could speak a word to defend herself, she was alone with him.

When he turned to her, he was a man at war with himself, and she could see the battle playing out in his eyes. The ever-present pique yielded to something softer, and while she told herself it was melancholy or fatigue that effected the change; she suspected it was something else that she did not wish to see.

“It is as I said,” he observed, “More lives than a cat.”

“I’m durable. It’s one of my more useful qualities.”

He smirked at her, burying his heart beneath his sardonic mask. But his lips trembled on hers when he kissed her, and she could taste the salt of his tears. She tilted her head back, taking what he offered, and refusing to think about the implications.

He did not linger there, but seated himself next to her bed and retrieved a book from the folds of his robe.

“As I recall, the only sure way to keep you in bed when you are convalescing is to read to you constantly.”

Her relief at the realization that she would not have to make conversation was palpable. She was far too exhausted to know what to say.

“You remember right. Although I don’t think I could move now even if the room were on fire.”

That softness flickered across his face again, and he reached out to grasp her hand with his.

“Soon, my Barbarian. Soon.”

*****

He was a genius, if he did say so himself.

When he’d first volunteered to superintend Miranda’s recovery, he hadn’t been certain he could manage the necessary alterations to his quarters that the situation required, but it had all come off without a hitch. The Extension Charm had worked perfectly, enlarging the interior of his rooms without requiring him to go about the drudgery of moving any of his books. There was space enough for Miranda’s turntable, for her pictures, for her books and sundries. He’d selected the best of her nieces’ and nephews’  drawings to arrange on the wall by her side of the bed, and he’d widened his armoire for her clothing. The pièces de résistance were the windows. Each room now sported windows running from floor to ceiling; charmed so magnificently that one could open them wide to let in a magical breeze and smell the air outside. It had taken a fair amount of trouble but, as he expected her sojourn in his rooms to be a lengthy one, he wanted her to be comfortable.

He set himself to the pleasant task of arranging her books on an empty bookcase, sorting them by subject and author as he did. If he were honest, he would admit that he harbored the foolish desire for her stay to be indefinite. But he was practical enough to realize that she would not wish for it to be so. Two weeks at St. Mungo’s and she was already chaffing; already longing to fly. He would keep her here for as long as he could, but in the end, he knew that she would leave him behind.

When he had been a child, he had learned to live on scraps. Scraps of food. Scraps of attention. Scraps of love. He had hoarded each paltry piece and squeezed as much good out of it as his tiny hands could muster, like a man squeezing blood from the proverbial stone. It hadn’t been enough, but he hadn’t had a choice. As a man, he had yet to come to a place where he truly had a choice. For fettered as he was by his vows to Lily, Albus, and the Dark Lord, how could he possibly be free?

Miranda was a better woman than he deserved, and even her trifling regard was preferable to being alone. He knew that, when she left, it would be worse than if he had never met her at all. But he also knew that, although the scraps of affection she let carelessly fall from her fingers would not satiate him, he would accept those scraps like priceless pearls and store them up against the black day when she finally left him for good.

It wasn’t what he wanted, but it would have to do.

*****

By the beginning of November, her parents and Catalina had returned to their respective homes, and Miranda had been released to Severus’s care. She had a daily routine of disgusting potions to take, and painful exercises, both physical and magical to perform; as well as a diet to follow that was designed with more strength-building than palate-pleasing in mind. Severus was a cruel task-master, and she was beginning to see the side of him that his students whispered about behind his back. But he also touched her with a tenderness that broke her heart, and fretted around her like a worried hen caring for its brood.

One Friday evening they sat in front of the fire while the rain pattered on the enchanted windows, echoing the mournful storm outside. He was at his desk, marking a pile of essays and muttering to himself about the idiocy of his students. She was curled up on the sofa, whittling away at a chessman for her nephew Brendan. Although she was going out of her mind from her confinement, she was trying to embrace the sedentary time as an opportunity to renew her acquaintance with the almost-forgotten hobby. If she were diligent, she might be able to make a present for each of her nieces and nephews by Christmas.

Severus threw down his quill and rubbed his temples. “Enough. If I read one more word of this rubbish tonight I shall go mad.”

“Encouraging words from their teacher.”

“It is not my fault that these dunderheads have had a string of incompetent teachers before me. Not only do I have the students’ natural stupidity to contend with, but I must repair all of the mistakes made by their previous so-called instructors as well.”

“I have every confidence that you will succeed, or die trying. You’re as tenacious as a pit bull when you get your teeth into something.”

“Your words of praise never fail to overwhelm me.”

He retrieved a stack of books from his shelf and deposited them in her lap.

“What’s this?” she asked, curiously examining the covers.

“Miss Lovegood gave them to me after class today. She said she used to read them when she was ill and she thought you would enjoy them.”

She opened the top book and smiled to see the opening of the first story. “ ‘To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name.’ Did you ever read these?”

“I?” he said, feigning indignation. “I, muddle my brain with such common twaddle? Surely you jest.”

“Well if you haven’t, you should. A little light reading is good for the soul. How did she know I was down here anyway?”

He sat down on the sofa and took her feet in his lap, rubbing his fingers over them in practiced circles until she sighed and sank back on the pillows; content.

“Ah, that. She claims that the thestrals told her.”

“The thestrals? Does she talk to them often?”

“Only once a week when they have tea.”

“Tea?” Miranda laughed merrily at the idea. “I can see her doing that. Have you been to this exclusive tea?”

He cleared his throat and she could see the pink tinging his ears. “Certainly not.”

“Don’t you lie to me, you have!”

“I will not dignify that with an answer.”

“Do you think she’d let me come along?”

“Of course she would, she delights in the ridiculous. And I’ll have you know…”

His words ended in a hiss and he dropped her foot like he’d been burned. His playful mood turned instantly serious, and he got up without a word to fetch his cloak and mask. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She hated to see him this way. Hated to watch him go into the lion’s den alone. But she tried to keep her anxiety to herself. He needed all his wits about him, not the burden of a silly woman worrying for him at home.

“Tell the Dark Lord I said hello.”

“I think that I shall not say that, if it is all the same to you.”

He kissed her heartfully and she gave him a careless smile. Then he traced her cheek with his finger and left without saying goodbye. Neither of them ever said goodbye. It was a good luck charm; as though by refusing to acknowledge the parting they could ensure the return of the one who had gone.

She stretched like a cat and braced herself on the back of the sofa to complete the arduous task of getting up. Although the silence in these rooms never bothered her during the day, at night it pressed in on her with bony fingers; like a boogie man that only crept out from under the bed when the parents were asleep. Her turntable was nestled between two of the bookshelves, and her records were lined up neatly close at hand. She pulled one out and set it spinning, letting the rich, mellow voice cover her fears.

At the dark end of the street, That’s where we always meet…

The renovations to Severus’s quarters were beautiful. They must have taken him days to complete. He’d brought all of her favorite things to keep her company while she healed. He showed her every day by his actions how much he cared for her. And though he still often adopted the role of the cold, callous Englishman, he was letting her glimpse the man underneath the facade with such casualness that she wondered if he was even aware that he was doing it.

She loved him, she couldn’t lie to herself about that. But she was never, ever going to tell him. There was simply too much standing in the way.

A pile of wood scraps from her whittling had accumulated on the floor by the sofa, glinting in the light of the fire. She knelt down to scoop them up, even though bending that far made her body scream in protest. She welcomed the pain, as though she could expiate her failures with it. When she had pushed herself up to her feet again, she swayed unsteadily, then limped across the stones to the fireplace, and cast the scraps into the flames.

They sparked, and danced, and crumbled to ash, like the dross of obliterated dreams.

*****

End Notes:

The Rosetta Stone is a charmed translation aid that works about as well as google translate.

Gisant: a recumbent effigy for a tomb, representing the deceased.

Jersey Devils are something like wyverns.

Miranda is quoting from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s story, A Scandal in Bohemia.

The song she is listening to is At the Dark End of the Street by James Carr.

This story is the first of a trilogy. I’ll post chapter 1 of book two, libera nos a malo, by the end of the week.

As always—thank you for reading!

*****

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Twenty-five+

libera nos a malo masterpost+

[ofvindictc]

( brett dalton, 32, he/him )  welcome to reprieve, DANIEL WARREN / LEVI STONE / FAMINE who is from THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, SEASON 3.  rumor has it they are a HYBRID / HORSEMAN, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine BLOODY KNUCKLES HITTING A PUNCHING BAG, RED SKIES IN THE MORNING, AND STARING AT YOUR REFLECTION THROUGH A SPLINTERED MIRROR.

he’s from a tiny ass town outside of portland. grew up with an abusive alcoholic dad. you can imagine how that went.  he was always in trouble as a kid and getting into fights.  i feel like the cops were always at his house bc if it wasn’t him getting into trouble, it was his dad.  whenever his dad got arrested, he’d ghost and stay with friends so he wouldn’t have to get thrown into the system. he was already taking care of himself anyway, it was nothing new to be left alone for weeks at a time.  he was an angry kid; partially bc of his life, partially bc of the werewolf curse in his bloodline.  it was from his dad’s  side  but  his  dad  was  adopted  (  therefor,  his  adopted  parents  weren’t  werewolves  and  had  no  clue  about  the  supernatural  )  and  had  never  triggered  his  curse  so he had no fucking clue what fresh hell was about to be unleashed on him.

he triggered his curse at 15. he was a youngin. he  was, maybe wasted, and he and his best friend were fucking around on the docks.  they started fighting about something stupid and things turned physical and his friend died;  busted his head open on the side of the dock when he went over it and into the water.  daniel was so shocked he just watched him drown and didn’t do anything. he was paralyzed.  all he remembered after was the pain, how everything was changing and he didn’t know what to do about any of it.  when he turned that first full moon, he destroyed their trailer and killed his own father.  the guy probably deserved it but that was a lot of blood on his hands.  he ended up running away and hitchhiking to portland.  as far as the world knew, he was a runaway.  he wasn’t a suspect in his dad’s death bc, well, it looked like an animal attack.  anyone the police questioned would confirm the truth;  daniel was always on the move, you never knew where he’d go.  with no relatives to push the envelope, he slipped between the cracks.

it was after his second full moon, after he mauled a couple hikers, that the alpha from the portland pack found him.  he took him in, set him up with a trailer of his own, and helped him figure out how to control that rage simmering under the surface.  which he did, for the most part.  he started boxing,  got a job at the gym, paid his fucking taxes.  all that normal person stuff.   he even had a girlfriend, another one of the werewolves in the pack.  she didn’t have anyone either;  her parents weren’t around, no siblings, nothing.  she was someone it was easy to be around, to be this new, calmer, version of himself.  now they still fought, that anger never went away, but he always tried to contain it.  he was happy.  he didn’t want to lose everything.  they got married, maed their trailer a home, and were happy - relatively speaking. 

enter klaus mikaelson.  he blows into town, promises them the world, and then delivers.  for the first time he can control his shift;  he doesn’t have to.  he can be normal, can be whoever the fuck he wants to be.  except there’s rules .. obligations that they can’t shake.  suddenly they’re moving to virginia, carting around the guy’s family in coffins and providing him with security.  but he’s happy to do it...  isn’t he?  he owes the guy a debt.  he believes it too,  right until elijah mikaelson yanks his heart straight out of his chest.   he dies,  has to watch from the other side as life goes on without him.  watches as the love of his life breaks her sire bond, is murdered by klaus in an expression massacre.  they’re not reunited;  he never sees her again.  the veil falls but he has nowhere to go.  he looks for klaus and elijah,  wants his revenge, but never finds them before the other side is reinstated.   when it implodes later on,  he faces oblivion.  there’s no peace for someone with rage in their heart, revenge on their mind.  except when the veil falls, he doesn’t see the white light, or flames licking at his heels.  he’s in reprieve. 

LANDING IN REPRIEVE

he wakes up in reprieve. he’s nowhere near mystic falls, he’s no longer trapped on the other side, but  he’s also hungry.   he kills the  police officer that finds him, takes his i.d and decides to assume his identity.  he changes his hair color, compels the major players in the guys life, and becomes levi stone.  as far as he’s concerned, daniel warren is dead.  not that anyone in this town — in this time, apparently — would know him.  it’s the closest thing to a fresh start as he’ll ever get. 

though he has revenge on his mind, as far as he knows... there are no mikaelsons to be seen.  he’s just masquerading as levi stone, assuming his role as a police officer.  he also opened up his own gym, has a boxing ring and everything bc it helps him unwind.  he has a lot of anger in him and he keeps it contained by channelling it into revenge fantasies and productivity.  once he finds out that the mikaelsons are here however... all bets are off.

ENTER FAMINE

while  impersonating  levi  stone,  out  on  patrol,  he  encountered  a  strange  fog.  there  was  a  figure  in  the  distance,  though  he  couldn’t  make  them  out,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew  there  was  a  ring  on  his  finger  and  a  voice  in  his  head.  FAMINE.   the  horseman  of  the  apocalypse  had  been  brought  to reprieve,  sensing  the  disturbance  in  the  city,  and  needed  a  powerful  body  to  host  him.  levi,  as  a  hybrid,  was  the  perfect  vessel.  they  became  symbiotic:   levi  would  feed,  drown  himself  in  crimson  rivers  to  keep  the  horseman  well  fed,  and  famine  would  help  him  with  his  revenge  plans  and  promise  him  that  the  time  would  come  soon  enough. 

[beesmygod]

this is what riverdale is about (part 4)

part 1

part 2

part 3

i’m back, to continue from where we left off. obnoxiously, i’m going to take a minute to plug my patreon, which is primarily for my webcomic but i also do movie reviews and talk about bad books i find so if you like these posts, you’ll probably like those as well. all i ask....is one dollar a month.

anyway fuck that let’s get back into this.

images are from the riverdale wiki

SEASON ONE (PART 2):

the last picture show: immediately this show reveals that our beloved jughead has been living in a nearly abandoned drive-in that he also works at. too bad for him, because it’s closing down. hilariously, literally nobody in his circle of friends cares and call his make-shift house a crack den. owned. its revealed an anonymous buyer purchased it from the town and the mayor decided to sell it to whoever.

archie brings flowers to his teacher-girlfriend’s recital and when he and grundy (and his dad) head to pop’s for a good ol malt or whatever, betty confronts him about his relationship. betty is hurt when he says grundy believed in him when no one else did and goes home with renewed purpose: take grundy down.

veronica’s mom is caught having a heated argument with a member of the southside serpents gang next to a dumpster by cheryl who, as she delights in misery and disaster, captures it all on camera. she shows veronica, who confronts her mother who brushes her off.

betty lures grundy into a fake interview for her school paper instead of going to the police. betty seems to be determining all of this based on the fact that she didnt have any social media until a year ago, which really makes me question betty’s journalistic bonefides. its framed like this means she didn’t exist before she got a twitter or whatever. its really weird. more relevant is that the only record of a geraldine grundy.....WAS AN OLD WOMAN WHO DIED 7 YEARS AGO!!!!! she takes this information to archie as well, who doesn’t care at all. he’s way too horny to care.

betty breaks into grundy’s vw bug and finds a gun and her real i.d. with her real name. archie is still too horny to care, even though betty (again, really overstepping her journalistic bounds) says that grundy might have killed jason (BASED ON THE EXISTENCE OF A GUN BETTY!!! COME ON). archie finally asks grundy straight up what the fuck is going on and she cops to trying to escape from an abusive husband, hence the gun and fake names.

jughead finds out that archie’s dad’s construction company won the bid to destroy the drive-in. its a bad time to be jughead. he tries to ask archie’s dad not to tear down the drive-in. through this convo we learn that jughead’s dad was fired from andrews construction several years ago for theft. a scene after this reveals that veronica’s mom is facilitating the purchase of the drive-in with the mayor pn behalf of her incarcerated husband.

i’m so glad the wiki reminded me of this line, word for word: everyone (and i mean literally everyone in town) goes to the drive-in for one last hurrah, where the southside serpents are guffawing up a storm. veronica somehow silences them by saying “You know what happens to a snake when a Louboutin heel steps on it? Shut the hell up or you’ll find out.“ it sucks so bad. veronica then witnesses her mother having an encounter with the same gang member who she is revealed to be paying to drive down the value of the drive-in property so hiram lodge can buy it for cheap.

archie and grundy are caught in a passionate embrace after betty’s mom reads her diary and goes on the warpath, rightfully telling her to get the fuck out of town or she’ll reveal her to be a child molester. grundy agrees to leave and archie is heartbroken. the last show of geraldine this season is her ogling two teen boys. horrible. leave, woman.

jughead leaves his shitty home and on his way out is accosted by the same gang member who was talking to hermoine lodge and is revealed to be....JUGHEADS DAD!!!!!!!!!! whatever.

heart of darkness: the town is abuzz with jason’s upcoming funeral and the teens of riverdale are fighting over who gets to take the dead kids spot as captain of the football team in a really normal and not at all super ghoulish way. archie is working his heart out now that his favorite teacher/pedophile has fled town. he has his time wasted by a member of the pussycats, valerie, who nets him a meeting with a music songwriter who tells archie he doesn’t have time for his shit. its a weird and totally pointless scene in the long run. it doesnt matter because archie’s music thing never comes to anything. the guy tells archie later, when he returns with sheet music, that his songs suck shit and he hates his music and to get out of his office.

jason and polly’s (betty’s sister) relationship seems to be at the center of whatever happened to jason, so betty starts asking around town about her sister, by using dates as a cover to ask probing questions to members of the football team. she also tries asking her father, who explains that polly and jason had a fight, polly tried to kill herself and so was shipped off to a mental institution. learning about jason’s death fucked her up again so they shan’t be exposing her to more sordid info about the events. the only information they get is that jason was selling drugs to raise money to leave town.

betty and jughead trace this thread to find out why jason would want to leave town but veronica is already finding out firsthand after she is invited to the blossom mansion for the world’s worst sleepover before the memorial (cool timing): the blossoms are all insane. they make their money on maple syrup, using the funds to build riverdale as we know it. veronica and cheryl bond over their awful parents and versonic encourages cheryl to act out at jason’s memorial FOR SOME REASON. KNOWING FULL WELL WHO CHERYL IS.

demonstrating extremely normal judgement, betty and jughead plan to raid jason’s room during the memorial to find clues. cheryl goes full hamlet, throwing herself on the coffin and weeping during her eulogy. they use this as cover to sneak away and go commit the worst social faux-pax you truly can do. however, they are interrupted by cherly’s senile grandmother, nana rose, who mistakes her for polly and reveals polly and jason were engaged. 

betty takes this information to her father who reveals he already knows but forbid the arrangement because the blossoms and the coopers have been trying to kill each other for decades over the whole maple syrup empire thing. betty and jughead later suspect her dad broke into the sheriff's office to steal his files related to uhhh everything i guess; a hunch which turns out to be correct.

meanwhile veronica’s mom is sent a live snake by the serpent gang, calls big strong fred andrews to come save her and then asks him for a job.

faster pussycats! kill! kill!: first of all fuck, the name of this ep.

archie, for some reason because i guess he doesn’t know what embarrassment is, decides he’s going to play an original song he wrote for the school talent show. he immediately gets stage fright at the try-outs and wusses out. veronica goes behind his back to sign him up anyway. thanks, asshole!

valerie, from the last ep, quits the pussycats because josie is slightly more stressed than usual about uhhh the talent show. also because she has a crush on archie for some reason.

hermoine, while acting as fred andrews’ new secretary, realizes he’s fucking BROKE. why’d he hire her? who knows. too late now. she suggests firing some people (for example............her, maybe, fred) but fred cant bear it...and is hoping to be saved by the newest construction job he doesn’t know that hermoine is manipulating under the table. much like his son, fred is now too horny to care and they make out while veronica watches awkwardly.

the remaining pussycats try to figure out what to do about their missing member problem. josie’s mom helpfully lays out that they need a strong woman of color, but not one prettier or more talented than josie. enter...VERONICA!!! who is miffed because archie replaced her with valerie in the talent show duet. veronica is now scientifically less pretty and talented than josie by show standards, which just rules because i love thinking that there are teen power rankings in riverdale.

betty and jughead make their way to visit polly at The Sisters Of Quiet Mercy which is literally the best name for a goth cover band in the world. surprise! polly is pregnant with jason’s baby. polly reveals she and jason planned to run away together, but she was caught by her parents and sent away. she then awkwardly asks how jason is and someone has to break the news to her.

josie’s dad makes a brief appearance, which i absolutely do not remember at all. i thought he only showed up in season 3 which makes mayor mccoys character arc way more awkward. anyway, the mccoy family, the andrews and the lodges all have dinner together to discuss business and its awkward as all hell. no one at the table likes the andrews.

betty straight up asks her dad if he killed jason and her mom laughs her ass off at the idea of betty’s soft white suburban ham shank looking dad being able to kill a weed much less a human. keep that in mind.

veronica’s mom forges veronica signature on a form allowing andrews construction to move ahead with the job.

jughead and betty kiss after talking about how they arent their parents. keep that in mind. anyway, betty takes jughead to a car polly mentioned that full of EVIDENCE. they take picture of it and leave the car to go tell the sheriff because i guess suddenly no one has cellphones.  jughead and betty return with the sheriff later to find the car has been light up by an unknown person. almost immediately after, bughead tries to rescue polly at the institution only to find she’s already bailed. welp.

josie and valerie make up and all four pussycats perform. josie’s dad walks out on her performance? harsh. cool dad moves.

archie sings and the crowd loves it. who gives a shit.

a kid died, guys. come on.

[satanseternalbenevolence-blog]

Memoirs of a Satan©

Hi, my name is Scott (You say, “Hi Scott”) and I am the new Satan. I have inherited the mantle and power of the Antichrist to do good in the World. Yes, you read that correctly, to do good in the World (more on this later). I don't know why I was chosen, maybe my core beliefs and understanding of humanity are the reasons why, or maybe I was just lucky. Either way, here I am, a 55-year-old raised Jewish (btw, the Jews don’t believe in Heaven and Hell) Atheistic Satanist from Los Angeles CA. I’ve often fantasized about having superpowers, but I never thought that I would actually have them, let alone become the most ultimate ‘villain’ ever!

Entry 1 I’ll never forget that day. The past few days the weather was beautiful, clear skies and temps around the mid-seventies. But by late Saturday night/early Sunday morning, a storm blew in from the coast. Pasadena, where my wife Beth and our two dogs Sophie and Sadie live, was expected to get up to 3 inches of rain, and after the 5+ years of drought we’ve had, 3 inches seemed like an ocean. I drove to work instead of riding my URB-E (Urban Electric motorized bike) to be safe. I work as a Security Officer at a Botanical Garden just south of Pasadena. I was at my post at the entrance of the gardens, under my huge orange Shademaker umbrella watching the rain pour down around me as I greeted the few visitors that come to the Garden on a day like today. A man walks up behind me and hands me a wallet and says that he found it in the desert garden and was told to give it to me. I thanked him and then went to examine the lost wallet. It was black leather, nothing special about it except for the fact that it was completely dry. As I opened it to see if there was any I.D. in it there was a number of credit cards in their appointed slots, and a card that read:

Hello Scott, you have been chosen to be the next Satan in this World. Do not throw away, give away, or turn this wallet into lost and found, it is yours now. You have every major credit card with unlimited credit to live on. More information will be revealed to you shortly. Your powers will go into effect in 24 hours. Hail Satan! Satan #30

You may be asking, how can you be Satan with all his powers and wisdom if you consider yourself an Atheist and don't believe in God or religion? The answer came to me that night. I slept like a rock (if rocks actually sleep), maybe it was the bowl of Dantes Fire I smoked before bed, but I was out when my head hit the pillow. In the dream I had, Satan #30 came to me as the devil character drawn by the artist Coop - red skin, pointy ears, horns, and goatee, and his signature cigar. He shared with me that yes, I was chosen because of my core beliefs and values and my understanding of humanity. He shared with me the history and understanding of this Being in the World. Man created religions and the Gods they associated with them. According to scriptures, God cast Satan out and gave him the power over this World. Since his power is in this negative realm, it is manifest as tangible and thus can make physical changes here. God is all speculative and invisible and does not have real power on Earth. Believers work themselves up into a frenzy because a preacher tells them that it’s the Holy Spirit working through them or they see the miracle of Jesus’ face on a piece of toast, but none of it is real. To quote the band Styx, “Welcome to the Grand Illusion.” The true paradox is that there has been more death, war, and destruction in the name of God, who is supposed to be the 'good guy' and Satan, the 'bad guy,' has been the one who brought positive changes.

The most important thing I was told to remember with this responsibility is to always be aware of how my choices and actions will affect future history. Yes, I can wipe out poverty and suffering instantly and make the ones who have been greedy and the cause of all the pain in the World pay for their crimes, but that wouldn't serve humanity in the long run. By manifesting such miracles I would be acting as a God and destroy the entity that is Satan. Giving the blessings of personal responsibility and cause & effect gradually will serve mankind in the long run. I'm what you might call a Spiritual, er I mean Satanic Lowrider.

I grew up in a very relaxed, reformed Jewish household. I went to Hebrew school after public school and studied for my Bar Mitzvah. In the Jewish religion, when a child turns 13 they are considered a man or woman after ceremonially reading from the Torah (holy scriptures) and collect lots of gelt (money) as gifts. Like most of my schooling, I squeaked by like the crackling voice of a young teenage boy. I was sent to the Rabbi’s office for disrupting the class so often you’d think we were having an affair. I would walk out of Temple singing the old McDonald’s commercial, “Scrambled eggs and sausage, yeaaaaa!” I was a bad Jew even then.

After my parents died at the end of my teens I became more spiritual and joined a non-denominational church called the Movement of Spiritual Awareness or M.S.I.A. I became a minister, chanted my tones, and did a lot of volunteering. I was really into it and thought that I had finally found my home and family, I was only in my mid-twenties. Everything was very ‘woo woo’ as I was sending the Light and ‘deflecting’ negativity. I was using all the lingo, “I ask for the Light of the Holy Spirit to surround, fill, and protect us for the highest good.”

As I grew into adulthood, worked a full-time job, got married, got divorced and lived on my own once again, the spiritual stuff faded from my life. I still wanted to believe that there was a God or Power greater than us but became disgusted by organized religion and their manipulative ways. Too many rules telling you how to eat, dress, and act (Fuck you, I like eating bacon!). I guess I was an Agnostic at this point. It took a couple of decades, but I finally accepted the fact that we are on our own, products of evolution, and proclaimed myself an Atheist.

When I met Beth at the end of 2003, I knew I had met my true Partner-In-Crime. As I was growing up in Culver City on the west side, Beth was going through much of the same family issues and cultural changes over the hill in North Hollywood. She also grew up in a reformed Jewish family and could relate to everything I went through as a youth. Although Beth does not like labels, she finally claimed the mantle of Atheist along with me. We call ourselves Deli Jews because these days we’re only in it for the food but still relate to our families as Jews culturally.

As I observed the changes in the World and started to learn the truth behind a lot of the things that society takes for granted - such as  thinking that our air is clean, our food is healthy, our legal system is fair, and our government is ‘For The People.’ I started to look at science as the truth and the way. Some people would call me a conspiracy theorist, but what is a conspiracy anyway? According to the dictionary, a con*spir*a*cy is a secret plan by a group of people to do something unlawful or harmful. Looking at the greed and manipulation of religions, governments, and corporations, I’d say there is a plethora of conspiring going on! So yes, I guess I am a good candidate to be the latest incarnation of Satan.

One of my first dilemmas was how to tell my wife that suddenly I am the embodiment of The Devil? "Hey Honey, by the way, you know that whole Satanist thing I'm into, yeah well, I'm Satan!" Actually, she was quite accepting of my new job title, especially the part about how our needs will always be met and we can live an easier life now. Part of the job description states that Satan's chosen family and loved ones will be taken care of as long as they respect the terms laid out by Satan. My siblings with receive the benefits of good health and enjoyment of life as long as they take care of themselves and don't rely on me to do it all for them. Here's an example - I may grant my brother good health and for every pound he loses, his family will also lose a pound until they all reach the healthiest weight for their size and body type. As long as they all continue to make an effort to live healthy through diet and physical activity the benefits will remain. If they choose to be lazy about it and expect Satan to just fix their lives for them, they will be on their own to deal with the consequences of the actions. That's pretty much how it works - take responsibility and step up to the plate and the blessings will be yours, choose to be lazy or arrogant, and karma kicks in.

Entry 2 Sure enough, 24 hours after I read that card from my new wallet, at exactly 12:00 noon, I have to vomit. So much for my half hour lunch. I spent the entire 30 minutes with my head in the toilet. At first, I thought it was my vertigo acting up again, but this was different. As I was puking I felt lighter, clearer, and freer than I have ever felt. I don’t know what was coming out of me, but I was glad to see it go. Once I stood up and washed my face, I felt like a million bucks! I thought to myself, that must have been my final initiation into Satanhood. So here I am, with the ability to affect people’s lives, and for lack of a better term change things in the physical world, but how do I do it? There was no instruction manual or advice from my chat with Satan #30 on how to do this. I kinda felt like Ralph Hinkley from the show The Greatest American Hero - here are your powers, you figure it out. I’m at work and now I am the latest Satan incarnate, let’s have some fun.

Part of my job is to make sure that people are wearing a paid admission sticker to enter the gardens. We close at 5:00 pm and stop selling tickets at 4:00 pm because it’s not fair to sell someone full price when they only have one hour to visit. Inevitably I get at least a few groups that come after 4:00 and want to come in. Here’s how the interaction always goes, I say, “Hi guys, do you have your stickers?” They reply, “What stickers?” I inform them that they have to have paid in order to pass this point, but we stop selling tickets at 4. “But we just spent X number of hours on the road to get here and we really want to see the Huntington gardens!” they exclaim. I explain to them that they should come back another day and plan to spend all day and that we are open from 10:00 am to 5:00 pm every day except Tuesday because we are closed. Before I can finish that sentence, they blurt out, “Oh we’re flying out of town tonight.” I always get frustrated because I hear this excuse over and over and over ad nauseam. Here they are with a smartphone in hand and they never thought to call or look up our website to find out what time we close?!? Today, I thought, let’s test out these new Satanic powers of mine <insert evil grin here>.

As I expected, at 4:15 pm a couple approaches, reads the sign on the front on my podium that reads ADMISSION REQUIRED BEYOND THIS POINT, and decides to confront me, “We just got here and reeeeeally want to see the gardens!” Me: “Sorry, but we’re closing in 45 minutes. I suggest you come back…” Them: “We’re flying back to Miami tonight. Can’t we just” At this point I thought, now would be a good time to test out my new satanic skills. I looked at them eyes wide, my mouth and left hand open, and then snapped them shut to simulate shutting their mouths with all the satanic power I could muster! Nothing happened. They kept talking but looking at me a little strange. Okay, my first attempt at summoning my new abilities didn’t quite work. “we promise we won’t tell if you let us in. We'll be quick, I promise. I just want to take a few pictures with my phone” “STOP!" I said firmly. Silence. “No, you cannot come in. Did it ever occur to you to pick up that smartphone you have in your hand and call here to see what time we were open until? Or look up our website? You show up 45 minutes before we close and it’s MY problem, what do you think, this is McDonald’s and you can have it your way?!?” This time they did stop talking, by the puzzled look on their faces and the impossible attempts at uttering a word, they couldn’t talk! So using my words of persuasion to command my power is one way of accessing it. Let’s find another!

I couldn’t get home fast enough. A gazillion ideas of what my powers were and how the hell I’m going to access them ran through my mind on my ride home. Usually, the 15 miles an hour of my URB-E didn’t bother me, but today I needed a rocket! Wait, I have super satanic powers, that  I - don’t - know - how - to - use. “Patience,” I told myself, I’ve got a lot to think about and fantasize about.

So this is the first time that Beth is seeing me with my new powers. She knew I was excited, but also warned me about going slow and keeping my satanic sorcery close to home and to not fuck with the neighbors (at least not yet). I stood there on our back patio ready to…I don’t know? Wave my magic wand? Point my finger with authority and intent? Use mind control? I started by thinking, WWSD - What Would Satan Do? Ah fuck it, how should I know? I’ve only had the job for a day, I don’t think I’m expected to know how to do it all by now. I decided to stop for now and go smoke a bowl of some fine Indica. 15 minutes later while laying on the bed with our dogs, I got it! Let go, detach, and relax your mind, then tell it what you want. Have two huge salads ready for Beth and I was what I thought on my way from the bedroom to the kitchen (all of about 30 ft.). By the time I stepped foot in the kitchen, Beth says uncontrollably, “WHERE THE FUCK DID THOSE COME FROM?” All I could do after looking at the beautiful salads on the table and turning my head to Beth was grin and wink ;-).

Over the munching and crunching of our scrumptious salads, we talked about how do I want to use these powers and do I want to go public with my new identity and keep in on the down-low. We both agreed that keeping it on the d-l would be the wisest and safest choice. I thought I’d start practicing locally, with my community - work, around town, and of course our neighbors. We love most of our neighbors, but there are some, let’s just say they could use a lesson or two about attitude and parking.

We live on a busy, main street that is our only place to park. The block is all apartments. Some of these neighbors own upwards of 4 or 5 cars and trucks! Not huge families, small families - parents and their two young kids, and couples. And, they don’t know how to park for shit - 3 feet from the curb, their back end sticking out, and parking in the middle of a spot that can fit 2 cars.

It’s a shame that there has been a rash of incidences of cars getting towed because they seemed to be parked in the middle of the street or on someone's lawn <insert evil grin here>.

Now, I know that part of the responsibility of being Satan is not just doing parlor tricks, so what else should I be doing with my newly acquired talents? The only one I can think of to ask is my predecessor, Satan #30. Before bed tonight, I took a long look at the tattoo I have on my left calf of Coop’s Satan that Beth and I got on our 10 year wedding anniversary. It was the first in a series of our tradition of getting a Halloween style tattoo each year to commemorate our years together. We were married on Halloween and love collecting tats, so this has become our anniversary gift to each other. Since #30 came to me like this version of Satan, I figured this would be a good way of focusing my energy on him before drifting off to sleep.

It worked. That floating, talking, cigar smoking little devil showed up ready to help. I found out later that part of your mitzvah (a good deed in Jewish belief) as a prior Satan is to assist the present torch bearer whenever they ask for it. My main question, aside from clarifying how to access these powers, was what is the best way to serve mankind (and not as a main course)? He reassured me that focus and a clear intent on what I want to create is the best way to access my powers, and to have fun with it (he forgot to mention that the first time we chatted). As far as how to be of service, his suggestion was to always think, how will this action benefit those involved? Even if my commandment is a form of tough love and is there to teach a lesson (as I did with the couple that wanted to enter the Huntington at 4:15 without paying), it must be for the highest good of all concerned. He also suggested I read the ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF HELL - An Invasion Manual For Demons Concerning the Planet Earth translated from the demonic by Martin Olson that was originally written by the O.S. (Original Satan). It gives some good insights into the truth behind Humankind.

I woke up refreshed and ready for my new job. After a nice cold shower, it was time to get to work. If my family is to be taken care of during my tenure, let’s start today. Our dogs, Sophie (a pit bull mix) and Sadie (a short-haired, low-riding Dachshund) are two knuckleheads that can be stubborn sometimes. I want them around as my Hellhounds for a long time, so they shall have perfect health, ticks and fleas can’t touch them, and they are perfectly obedient. All Beth and I have to do, is calmly tell them what to do, and it’s done - no fuss, no stress (for us or for them). I took them for a nice long walk. Even though I could now walk them without a leash knowing that nothing will happen without my consent, I didn’t want to break any laws. I put their collars and leashes on but had the leashes floating up as if I was holding them (kind of like the invisible dog trick with the wire in the leash). And I stopped picking up their poop piles. Now the canine logs of excrement instantly turn into the perfect fertilizer for the grass or plant it lands on. Happy dogs, happy daddy!

When Beth got home, we sat on the couch after dinner and discussed what she and I wanted in terms of our physical health and appearance. Obviously, we wanted perfect internal and mental health, but how do we want our bodies to improve. Beth wanted to slim up, clear skin and strength to do what she loves - hiking, skating, and exploring the World. I chose to only have a minute amount of body fat and more muscle definition along with the strength to keep up with Beth. To not attract too much attention, I’m having this transformation happen gradually yet quickly over a period of about 6 months, most people don’t notice anything odd about changes that take place over a slightly extended period of time, plus it will feel more natural that way. To not have to worry about vertigo, hearing loss, and erectile dysfunction, AWESOME!

There is one group that I’m involved with that I think might like to hear this news, the Los Angeles chapter of The Satanic Temple. I’ve been a member for about a year and a half and really love where their heart is. TST is doing a lot of work nationally for Freedom OF Religion and Free Speech, as well as the constant struggle to separate Church and State. The L.A. chapter has put on some fucking amazing Satanic Masses as fundraisers and as a way for people who feel like outsiders in society to come together and be accepted. I knew that they would understand the terms of the way I am to assist them, and that fact that we are going to have a hellaciously fun time doing it! To give you an example of what the Temple of Satan believes, here are the Seven Tenets we follow:

One should strive to act with compassion and empathy towards all creatures in accordance with reason.

The struggle for justice is an ongoing and necessary pursuit that should prevail over laws and institutions.

One’s body is inviolable, subject to one’s own will alone.

The freedoms of others should be respected, including the freedom to offend. To willfully and unjustly encroach upon the freedoms of another is to forgo one's own.

Beliefs should conform to our best scientific understanding of the world. We should take care never to distort scientific facts to fit our beliefs.

People are fallible. If we make a mistake, we should do our best to rectify it and remediate any harm that may have been caused.

Every tenet is a guiding principle designed to inspire nobility in action and thought. The spirit of compassion, wisdom, and justice should always prevail over the written or spoken word.

Quite a bunch of evil motherfuckers, huh? One of the things about TST that I love is the fact that they don’t worship the actual being known as Satan, they believe in what the literary character represents - freedom from oppression, knowledge, and fun, as opposed to the other literary character that so many sheeple blindly follow. Now they have the real deal, the definite article, the man-the myth-the legend - Me. How are they going to explain that? I’d suggest keeping this our little secret and have fun doing the good works that we do. They also use Satan and Satanism for shock value to demonstrate to not always judge a book by its cover - Satanist doing good in the World and believers in God doing horrible things in his name. Btw, Anton LaVey - poser.

I can’t help but fantasize even more about all the ways I can help people and right injustices without anyone knowing it was me. If I see someone being kind to another person, I might reward them by paying for his or her parking or picking up his or her tab at a restaurant anonymously. Maybe teachers who choose to teach the truth and not just the curriculum that they are told to teach and brainwash their students will be given the support that they deserve. I love to see children become curious and question why things are the way they are. Like training a dog with positive reinforcement, every time a kid helps another kid whom he or she doesn’t know well or stands up to a bully, they get an instant reward of some sort such as found money, a certificate of appreciation, or their favorite meal from their parents. If a driver steals a parking spot that someone else is waiting for, their car dies and has to be towed. My mind just goes on, and on, and on thinking of ways to be the best Satan I can be.

“Be all that you can be, become a Satanist!”

And just so no-one catches on, I’m going to do these type of things all over the World so it doesn’t look like wherever I am miracles happen. Am I starting to sound like a god or something? Maybe so, but I am Satan. Again, I love that fact that this demonstrates not to judge a book by its cover, that which we label as good or evil just might be the complete opposite. Positive chaos can be the perfect action to right wrongs and balance unsteady ground. What if people of different nationalities and economic levels came together and organized against tyranny and oppression? Hey, a Devil can dream can’t he?

There’s a trick I’ve always wanted to do. I saw it in the 1995 movie Powder about an Albino teenager with extrasensory perception and the ability to heal the sick. In one scene, the main character Powder is camping with a group of boys (I think it was the Boy Scouts or something like that) and their adult counselors when one of the boys shoots a deer with a hunting rifle. Deeply saddened by the event, Powder touches the dying animal with one hand and grabs the hand of one of the adults. What transpires is that Powder acted as a conduit so that the adult counselor could see and experience what the deer was going through as it takes its last breaths. It’s a true example of demonstrating empathy. I would love to experience someone acting like an asshole, insensitive, or being a racist dickhead and just shake their hand or touch their shoulder and have them feel what the person that they are picking on feels when they are treated that way (Seems like a very Jesus thing to do, maybe I’ll go easy on this one).

I’m not a sports fan, I believe that sports are another way for humans to stay divided, it’s that whole ‘us against them’ thing. But I do love wearing jersey’s, so I bought a hockey, football, baseball, and basketball jersey in my favorite colors - orange, black, and gray, with my name BERGER on the back and number 31 (get it?) on all of them. GO TEAM BERGER SATAN! Did I mention that I suck at playing sports? I grew up with asthma and couldn’t run, let alone play without wheezing and coughing my head off. I died inside during P.E. every time the coach would yell, “EVERYONE RUN A LAP!” Even now, I have no desire to jog, run, or chase a ball (I’ll leave that to my Hellhounds, Sophie and Sadie).

Entry 3 Date night with the Mrs., tonight we’re going to see DEADPOOL 2. We loved the first movie and have been looking forward to this sequel for a long time. As usual, we got there early enough to get some buttered popcorn and our seats before the 20 minutes of previews. We like to sit at the top of the theater in the back row if possible so we don’t have to listen to anyone talking or munching behind us during the movie. We found a couple of seats at the top on the left side, with no one sitting around us. The previews we’re okay, a few of them that I can never seem to remember when I leave the theater, I want to come back and see.

Just as the movie starts, these three Jugheads with enough candy and food to feed a small nation, sit down right in front of us. We look at each other with that knowing glance that a couple develops after being together for years. We silently decided to not say anything yet, to wait and see. Once they started feeding their faces they became a little bit quieter, since their mouths were full of junk food. But about halfway through the movie, the commentating and texting began. “Why the fuck didn’t he just kill the motherfucker?” “Dude, that's fucking stupid! He can’t be dead, and what’s with all this mushy love shit?” exclaimed two of them while the third kept texting with the clicking sound on his keyboard. That’s it, last straw, time to have some fun.

I had the scene in the movie stop, and Deadpool played by Ryan Reynolds breaks the fourth wall (in stage and film, that’s where the actor interacts directly with the audience), and addresses the three Jugheads. “HEY PEABRAINS, YEAH YOU, THE THREE STOOGES IN THE BACK WITH A SEVERE CASE OF THE MUNCHIES AND OPINIONS - SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I WILL COME OUT THERE AND TURN YOU INTO A SUB-HUMAN CENTIPEDE!” At first, everyone thought this was a joke and part of the movie, but this wasn’t a 3D movie and none of us were wearing 3D glasses either. When Deadpool reached out of the screen with both hands and his ‘avocado-had-sex-with-an-older-avocado’ face and came towards our noisy neighbors, at least two of them pissed their sagging pants and I think the third shit himself. They ran out of there embarrassed as hell holding their poop and pee stained pants hoping nobody sees or says anything to them. After clearing the air of stench and replacing it with a gentle floral fragrance, I allowed Mr. Deadpool to continue with his scene (only after Deadpool and all the theater attendees applauded the Jugheads departure). By the way, everyone at our screening of DEADPOOL 2 received a full refund and two free passes per person to come back to see another movie.

Entry 4 8:30 am. It's too early to listen to all the squawking going on in the trees around my post. From the sounds of it, you'd think I was in a rain forest and a predator was threatening the flocks. The only way I'm going to enjoy my coffee and start the day in a good mood is to quiet things down a bit. A little concentration and a mighty, "SHUSH!" and silence. Ahh, that's better.

I was reflecting today on people who rock the boat, specifically at their jobs. Maybe, the employees who challenge the system, question management, care about their jobs and speak up, are the smart ones and the ones to listen to. They see what’s really going on first hand (the boots in the trenches), and usually have very innovative solutions to these problems. The workers and management that play by all the rules, are calm and complacent all the time, and are just buying their time in hopes of a good pension to retire on, are the dangerous ones. The latter live in fear and would never rock the boat or go out on a limb, especially for their staff. The meek shall inherit the Earth if anyone would listen to them! Maybe now I can bend a few ears and make some changes.

I’ve got to stop listening to bands like Ministry on the way home, without trying I was hitting speeds upwards of 60 mph on my URB-E. Focus Scott and remember safety first.

Entry 5 I was thinking about the quote from the King James Bible, 1 Timothy 6:10, "For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.” There has been a meme going around that states IF MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL, THEN WHY DOES THE CHURCH ALWAYS ASK FOR IT?. I found this to be a very good question. It sounds rather hypocritical to me - they preach the evils of the love of money, at the same time they keep asking you to donate it to the Church. I’ll bet that the Church's answer would be that they [the Church] are there to take the burden of the evils of money off of their parishioners. How fucking Christ-like of them.

Thank God Satan doesn’t have to ask for donations! I can’t see myself going door-to-door begging for change, “Hi, would you like to donate whatever you can to support your favorite arch-nemesis and fall-guy?” I’ve never liked the whole sales pitch thing. Even when organizations that I’ve been involved with called it ‘sharing your experience’ instead of what you are really doing which is selling goods and services, I was still hocking their wares. Isn’t Greed one of the 7 ‘deadly’ ‘sins’? Way to teach by example you cross-loving-self-righteous-robber-barons!

The Church asks for donations and tithing (giving 10% of your income), Jewish temples require payment to become a member, and Muslims are obligated to participate in a form of tithing called zakah. You can’t tell me that religion isn’t big business, this is a global money-making machine of ancient and epic proportions. Fuck the poor, praise the rich, and pray for trickle-down economics.

Entry 6 I woke up, made some deliciously strong Armenian coffee with smoked tea in the mix for an added flavor and caffeine fix, and started perusing Facebook. I started to feel discouraged by all the hate and religious rhetoric that is being vomited all over the internet these days. I hadn’t realized just how many people actually and wholeheartedly believe their chosen religion above common sense and logic. So here I am, the embodiment of ‘Evil’ on this planet, surrounded by a HUGE majority that believes that their chosen invisible god is the only one. I’m here to use my powers for good in the midst of this turmoil of political and religious power struggle which is purely manmade (kinda sounds like a comic book. I’m sure I can get Stan Lee to appear as a cameo in this nightmare of a reality, maybe as God himself and we can arm wrestle).

According to Wikipedia, Satan is an entity in the Abrahamic religions that seduces humans into sin. In Christianity and Islam, he is usually seen as a fallen angel, or a jinni, who used to possess great piety and beauty but rebelled against God, who nevertheless allows him temporary power over the fallen world and a host of demons. The Seducer, I like it! My thoughts on sin are that it is not negative, but merely human attributes. Seducing people to be the best self they can be (No, I am NOT plagiarizing the U.S. Army) sounds like a cool part of the job. Fallen Angel - well I am kind of a klutz, and I LOVE the term Host of Demons! I also like the name Satan because it only has two syllables. The Devil {3}, Lucifer {3}, Beelzebub {4}, they don’t slide off the tongue as Satan does.

I’m guessing that what I’ve been going through the last couple of days has been a ‘reflective time.’ It feels like I’m re-learning about myself all over again. I love the fact that part of the responsibility of being Satan is to keep yourself on the down-low, I call it Satanic Lowriding. The real magician behind the curtain, the master illusionist with a heart, the manipulator of mirth…Satan!

Entry 7 Sometimes I let the dogs poop in the house just so I have something to do that reminds me of the good ol’ days. They’re so well trained these days that it’s almost boring. Last night while walking them we passed a rather aggressive Chihuahua and it’s owner (is 'owner' not politically correct?), er, I mean person, that was so distracted by her cell phone that she didn’t even know her precious little pooch was acting like a terror. As we tried to pass, I had Sadie our Dachshunds eyes glow bright red and growl a low guttural rumble that meant, “GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY!” The Chihuahua got the message loud and clear, it yelped and curled up in a ball like a pill bug. Its person was easy, I simply killed the power to her phone, and then telepathically called her an evil demon and said, “Pay attention, Satan is watching you!” Of course, she dropped her phone in horror and looked around frantically trying to figure out who did this. When she looked my way, and I turned to grin at her with glowing red eyes to see her reaction - priceless!

Entry 8 I find myself asking, “WWSD - What Would Satan Do?” The Satan, Numero Uno Satanas, the OS - Original Satan, and how did he come to be? Did he just *appear* after his mention in the bible, or was it more organic like he was struck by a meteor particle? That must have been scary the first time he found out he had supernatural powers, “GOD DAMN IT, WHO THREW THAT ROCK?” Did he get tripped by a vagrant and cursed him, “May your feet fall off at the ankle!” and they did. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall the first time Satan read the bible. I bet Satan himself started a lot of the rumors and stereotypes about ‘The Devil’ throughout the Centuries.

At work, I was sitting there watching people shuffling around trying to figure out how to navigate the map of the gardens and what they want to see first. As they passed by, depending on their reaction to my greeting, I might make them lose their voice for about an hour or make some small physical improvement such as clear up acne, or even cause their clothes to fit them perfectly as if tailored just for them. I had a tour group of Japanese people act very rude towards me so I made them all speak Swedish for the rest of the day (that made my day a lot brighter).  

I know I’m supposed to do good in the World, but I can’t help but think that Satan was the Original Prankster. Maybe it’s that image of the devil with that gleam in his eye and that wink that says, “I got your back kid, let’s have some fun!”  

Entry 9 Aside from just my dogs, I can communicate with the other species of the animal kingdom. Sitting outside on the back patio of our apartment I was watching a crow on a power line cawing to the other crows in the area. He was looking for his murder (a group of crows is called a murder) which he became separated from. He must have sensed that I was looking at him because he stopped, turned his head in my direction and cocked his head to one side as if to say, “You understand me.” I nodded my head in agreement and calmly said, “Come here, my friend.” He flew down and landed on the back of the patio chair caddy-corner to me. We just looked at each other for a few moments as if we were two old friends who haven’t seen each other in years. I broke the silence by asking him if he knew who I was, he nodded and bowed his head in what I guess was a show of respect.

So I am able to speak English to animals and they understand me, and I understand them telepathically. I’m a real Dr. Doolittle! My new feathered friend cawed that he will let his murder know that I am here and to be of assistance to me and my family in any way they can. I smiled and nodded in appreciation.

Entry 10 Independent’s Day here in the good ol’ U.S.A. One tradition that I never quite understood was the annual hot dog eating contests where participants try to eat as many hot dogs as possible in a limited amount of time. The most famous of these contests are sponsored by Natan’s Hot Dogs on Coney Island in New York. Of course, small towns and cities all over this Nation have their own local competitions to see who in their community is the most gluttonous. Being the prankster that I am, I thought it would be fun to attend one of these displays of face-stuffing fun and hedge my bets, so to speak. Monrovia CA was having theirs in the park of the local library in the center of town. There were 8 contestants ranging in age from 18 to 70, both men and women. I chose the 70-year-old man who looked like a cross between Mr. Rogers and Ebenezer Scrooge. When the whistle blew the competing eaters started ferociously chomping on the pile of meat sticks in front of them. They had 10 minutes to eat as many of the 50 hot dogs in their buns placed in front of them with only water to wash them down. Of course, the younger participants started off strong, but then, thanks to me, my man started sucking down dogs like an alcoholic in a beer drinking contest. It almost looked like he wasn’t even chewing them, effortlessly letting those wieners slide down his throat. He finished his plate of 50 in approximately 6 minutes and then started reaching over to the plate of the girl next to him and started eating hers! The crowd was on their feet and going berserk! Part of the thrill for me was watching to look on the old guy's face as he was devouring the dogs in this meat-fest. Being the kind-hearted Satan that I am I made sure that the winner and all of the contestants had no ill effects from their gorging. HAIL THE HOT DOG!

I imbibed a little too much and tried to impress Beth by shooting bottle rockets out of my ass and spelling I LOVE YOU in the night sky. Good night.

Entry 11 It dawned on me that if word was to get out that I indeed was Satan and had these powers, I would be hunted by every religious whack-job on the planet. The fact that they had a physical target to blame all of the Worlds problems on, as well as their own personal shortcomings, would make me Terrorist #1. (I would make Hitler, Pol Pot, and Trump look like amateurs!) I’m sure I would hear everything from, “Children are starving because of you!” to “You’re the one who keeps taking my job!” even “The weather sucks today ‘cause of you!" If I was to get caught by these whack-jobs would they string me up and hang me, making me the ultimate martyr like Jesus, or would the military want to use me for their own evil doings? Now I know why I should keep my ministry on the down-low.

Entry 12 It’s hot as Hell today - pun intended. Temps here in Southern California hit 122 degrees in some areas, wtf? When did we move to Death Valley? I have a confession to make, I may be Satan Incarnate, but I HATE hot weather! Unlike old people from the East Coast, I will not be retiring in Florida. I’d be quite content living out my final days in Alaska (sans Sarah Palin and her dysfunctional clan), Canada, or the Highlands of Scotland. But since I was home here in Pasadena and off work today, I set the temperature in our hotbox of an apartment to a comfortable 68 degrees, turned off the ac to conserve electricity, and stayed in with my demon-dogs. They love when Beth and/or I am home with them, especially when I conjure up a big bowl of shaved ice for each of them.

Since we live across the street from the only Jewish Temple in Pasadena, I like to have fun with those obnoxious ‘chosen people’ who think that they are holier than thou. Tonight is the Sabbath. According to Jewish religious law, from sundown on Friday night to sundown on Saturday night Jews are supposed to usher in the Sabbath, or Shabbat as they call it, by going to temple, lighting candles and praying. Every Friday night it is impossible to find a parking place in front of our apartment because the temple goers have parked their Mercedes and BMW's in every available spot on the street. So to test their faith and teach them a lesson, I sent the most savory smell of bacon, ham, and shrimps-on-the-barbie to permeate throughout the temple. I’ll bet that the Denny’s on Colorado Blvd. will be filled with Jewish families ordering Moons Over My Hammy with a side of bacon and fried shrimp. You’re welcome.

Entry 13 - 9:45pm I decided to have some fun tonight. On the east coast, it’s 3 hours ahead of us here in California which makes it about 12:45 am. I used my Satan Sense to hone in on VP Mike Pence and Attorney General Jeff Sessions to make sure these two faithful children of God are fast asleep. I then telepathically visited each of them in their bedrooms, waking them as I appear as their God Almighty complete with white hair and beard, white gown, and puffy white clouds surrounding me. “I AM ASHAMED AND DISAPPOINTED IN YOU MY SON!” I said in a deep, booming voice. “USING ME AS AN EXCUSE FOR YOUR FINANCIAL AND POLITICAL GAIN, DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT I DIDN’T EXIST AND COULDN’T HEAR ALL THE VILE LIES YOU TELL IN MY NAME?!? THERE IS A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR SINNERS LIKE YOU!” Both of their wives also woke up, saw, and heard me alongside their chicken-shit hubbies so there were witnesses. Jeff Sessions actually peed his pajamas, while Mike Pence started sobbing and apologizing like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Will it change their stance on policies? Maybe not, but it sure was fun!

Entry 14 A First Aid/CPR class might not be the kind of environment to play around with my powers, but this particular class needed a little levity. First of all the instructor was an egotistical stick-in-the-mud who has been teaching these training classes for way too long, it felt like he was phoning it in. I could tell that most of the other attendees were getting bored and frustrated, so I decided to lighten things up a bit. The instructor, I'll call him Joe, was going over how to approach a person (the CPR dummy) who is unresponsive. His dry example of how to get a response from the nonresponsive person was the perfect opportunity. Just as he was about to lean down and give the two breaths, I had eyes, that wasn't previously there, open and look right at him. The look on his face and the girlish squeal that uncontrollably blurted out of his mouth was priceless! And just as quick as the eyes appeared, they vanished with no trace of what he just saw. The whole class gasped in unison and then broke out in laughter. Needless to say, we were all sent on a break after that.

* I put the 'lo' in El Diablo (as in down-low).

Entry 15 All fun aside, there is a very real and present danger to society looming over the United States - Christianity. With Trump and his right-wing cronies in the Federal government, their push to bypass the Constitution and drive to make Christianity the official religion in the U.S., the need for the varied people of this country to come together and fight this fascism is critical if we want to halt another Holocaust of that scale and larger. Those in power (governments, religions, banks, etc.) have been using the Divide and Conquer method to keep us separated and fighting amongst ourselves for Centuries. They use everything from a Bipartisan System, to sports, and even how products and services are marketed. Almost everything is modern society is designed to divide us up into more factions. Even amongst the same groups such as race, gender and politics there is fighting and turmoil. They want to undo decades of legislation to protect 1st Amendment rights, freedom of religion, gay rights, as well as the right to assemble. As Satan #31, I feel a strong sense of duty to support this fight and protect as many people as possible. (Crap, this feels like the most daunting tasks I’ve ever had to do!) Secularism is threatened every day. There is a movement in the right-wing community called Project Blitz. Their goals are to inundate government on all levels with Christian ideals, promote Christianity in public schools, and flood society with Christian symbolism.

I think I’ll start by more actively supporting the efforts of The Satanic Temple financially to assist with their growing legal costs. Next, I think promoting the After School Satan program and Women’s Reproductive Rights campaign will be important causes to help spread locally and nationally. Free and critical thinking should be offered to every child regardless of economic class, culture, or gender. Women’s Rights are a given, women should be recognized, heard, and fairly compensated for their active roles in society. The more transparent this work, the more people will clearly see that these Satanists are kind, loving, and compassionate individuals.

Now it will be much easier to send mass mailings, emails, and text messages to politicians. THE PEOPLE WILL BE HEARD!

Entry 16 Today I donated a substantial amount of money anonymously and specifically to the Security Department where I work. I stated that I wanted all Security Officers to receive a 25% raise, permanent structures in the entrance pavilion to keep the officers that work there comfortable and protected from the elements, and free ice cream for all Security staff anytime they want. The only clue as to whom this contribution came from was a note attached that said, “From a concerned Member.” That ought to keep ’em guessing for a while <wink>.

While I’m still working there I perform little miracles when needed, such as making people with faux ‘Service Dogs’ feel guilty when they approach me trying enter or causing the make-up of a model to run horribly down her face when she tries to come in to do an unauthorized photo shoot. One day I heard a call on the radio that there was a photo shoot going on in the Chinese Garden so I sent a small murder of crows to dive-bomb them and disrupt their plans (now THOSE would be some awesome pictures!).

Entry 17 I just had an AH HA! moment. It’s time get back on the stand-up comedy stage and influence audiences to the truth about God, Satan, and religion (Oh yeah, among other things I’m a stand-up comedian). I can write comedy bits about God and Satan interacting with characterizations of God being mean and short-tempered and Satan being as polite as an English gentleman. This is going to be fun!

Entry 18 The 'doing good work in the World' is the easy part. The hard part is using restraint when the urge to be painfully vindictive creeps in. Sometimes people piss me off so much that I just want them to feel the wrath that their behavior creates. Oh, how fun and easy it would be to make somebody pay for his or her arrogance, aggression, and stupidity for the rest of his or her lives. I've been finding that doing good work doesn't mean laying down and letting the negativity of the World walk all over you but sometimes using uncomfortable acts to get people's attention and wake them up. For example, I would love to set those people on fire who say to me, "Oh, it's not that hot today!" while I'm sitting outside in the 100-degree heat under an umbrella that makes it feel like I’m in an oven. But I hold back, and simply kill the air-conditioning in their office (only for a day).

Entry 19 Today I found out what scares the Jeebus out of Jehovah’s Witnesses, Me. 10:00 am there’s a knock on the front door. After carefully peeking out the front window, I open the door looking like Tim Curry as The Devil in the movie LEGEND. Red face and body (ripped I might add), goat hooves, and huge black demon horns. As I spoke in a deep rumble, “Good morning ladies, how can I help you?” smoke drifted out of my nose and mouth. They hesitantly offered me a copy of The Watchtower, which burst into flames and ashes the moment it touched my hand. That was all these Jehovah-Loving-Witnesses could take! As they turned to run away, they tripped and started crawling over one another to get away. I guess their faith wasn’t very strong. At least they didn’t piss themselves as A.G. Jeff Sessions did.

Entry 20 I remember once when I was in my twenties, I was assisting in a personal growth seminar - Insight Transformational Seminars. I witnessed a woman go through what they called Crabbing. Crabbing is when a person is going through a great deal of emotional release and their hands contort and stiffen-up like a crabs claws.

I can only equate when parishioners of televangelists go into those spastic fits claiming that the Holy Spirit is working through them, to Crabbing. It’s all in their minds and emotions, there is nothing spiritual about it. When believers claim to be possessed by demons and one of these flamboyantly Christian preachers ‘exercise’ the evil out of them, well that’s just bad acting.

My dear reader, you have probably guessed that I would treat them to a real possession at this point. Yes, but not the way you might think. I was watching the popular faith healer and televangelist Benny Hinn on television and he was going through his usual paces of knocking down the congregation with the wave of his jacket, er, I mean the Holy Spirit, when this one man claimed to be inhabited by an evil spirit that made him growl and bark like a dog as he rabidly showed his fangs (teeth). Just as Benny Hinn was beginning to ‘exercise’ this poor lost soul, I possessed Mr. Hinn. “THIS IS ALL FAKE YOU IDIOTS!” I exclaimed. “THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE DEVIL. I JUST WANT YOUR MONEY, AND STOP BARKING AT ME!” The ‘possessed’ man in front of me/Hinn and everyone in the television studio/church froze in silence. When I exited Mr. Hinn’s body I felt slimy like a snail. Of course, when Hinn regained consciousness he didn’t remember what just happened. The uncomfortable silence seemed to last an eternity until one of Hinn’s assistants whispered in his ear what just took place. Immediately the faux healer spoke up and assured the audience that there truly is a Devil and that it is more important than ever to $upport the Church. Sometimes you just can’t fix stupid. As for me, I need a shower!

Entry 21 I am offended that some people are comparing Donald J. Trump, the 45th President of the United States, the WORST President of the United States EVER, to the Antichrist. That idea lowers the bar way too much and gives this pee-brain moron extremely too much credit. The Angel that man has created to fall from the grace of their God in Heaven, the true Ruler of this physical realm (Satan), is in no way related to this pompous asshat! Cheeto-head also gives puppets all over the World a bad name. If Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd, Lambchop, and Madame were here today, they’d be on the front lines protesting this ignorant poser. As Satan #31 in these troubled times, I’ve got my work cut out for me. With the internet, social media, and international spy’s mucking up information to the public, getting people to think for themselves and take better care of each other is going to be a quite a challenge, to say the least.

Entry 22 Just got my 6 6 6 morale patches in the mail! I’m a Beast, Baby!

Entry 23 So rock music is The Devil’s music, well DUH! Who has had the tastiest licks, best beats, and most heartfelt lyrics? A: The Devil’s music. Music began as a rhythmic form of communication. Drumming, dancing, and chanting were all primal ways of expressing emotions and stories; both joyous and tragic. This level of vibration came from the Earth, from humans, from Satan. God and his heavenly hymns are lofty and boring. I love all the controversy about rock musicians worshipping Satan, selling their souls, and making teenagers take drugs and kill people. I’m actually kind of flattered to be worshipped for my music, but the selling of souls is waaaaay out of left field. Maybe some poser of a record exec. was playing God by requiring bands to sell themselves out to his label, but I have yet to come across any ancient or recent purchased souls in my Satanic studies. Teenagers taking drugs and killing because of some richly theatrical rock band and their deeply poetic lyrics? Maybe a closer investigation into the kids home life and relationship with his/her parents and their beliefs would give more clues as to the behavior of their gothic little angel.

You see, none of it is real, NONE OF IT. It’s all illusion, a stage show, a prop. The ‘good’ - church/temple/mosque, morals, the saviors, the good-guy-in-white, and the ‘evil’ - Satanism, paganism, horror movies, rock concerts - all fake. Humans over the centuries have given these things power by labeling them as good or evil, usually to use extortion to control the masses. Often times if you look closer, you’ll see that it is evil and corruption in the good, and goodness and kindness in the evil (ie. Satan here to do good in the World). I know that this pisses off the religious-right to no end because they think that EVERYTHING has come from God. God doesn’t exist, man has created the doctrines that generation after generation has blindly followed. You’re welcome.

Entry 24 Looking at the triplex we live in, I decided we needed some upgrades. First I talked to Beth and our neighbors about me doing some upgrades to the property such as the landscaping and painting the place as well as little repairs here and there. They were all okay with it. The only one who knows how I’m really going to do it is Beth, the rest I’ll have to make it look like I’m doing the work (it’ll just get done a bit faster than usual). Second, I contacted the owner, Barbara. Barbara is an elderly wealthy widow who lives in Santa Barbara (how ironic). This property is basically a tax right off. She hates to put money into this property and only comes to see the place every few years to do a quick inspection and then raises our rent. I informed her that I will be happy to take excellent care of the building and grounds if she would cut all the units rent in half. She was aghast at first and wrote me off as a big joke. I told her to come to see her property in one month, and if she’s not impressed the deal is off. But, is she likes the improvements I’ve made we have a deal. She agreed, probably thinking that she just got some free work done on the apartment complex she owns.

The first thing I did was replace all the pipes with brand new, larger copper ones. Now none of us will have clogged and backed up sinks and toilets again, and we’ll have great water pressure. Next, I fixed all of the electrical panels with more wattage and fixed all of the outside safety and patio lights, and then added some solar panels on the roof to lighten our energy costs. For the outside, I had all the bushes and plants trimmed and healthy in our new drought-tolerant landscaping. The final touch was painting the building. I chose an earthy brown with a sage green trim, very California (faux) Craftsman. Just to make it look like I was working I’d put a few ladders, drop-cloths, and paint cans lying around and did the whole thing in about a week (so it didn’t look too magical).

The day of Barbara’s inspection. The look of shock and then odd approval was priceless. I simply explained to her that I had the time and experience to do this kind of work and since all of her tenants have been long-term renters, including us, and weren’t planning on moving any time soon, I wanted to make our apartments the most comfortable and pleasant as they can be. I had a document drawn up putting this agreement in writing which she signed without hesitation. Home is where the heart is.

Entry 25 Sometimes I like to badger Christians on Facebook that post things about thanking God for their good fortune or sending thoughts and prayers. I will pose the question, what if God had nothing to do with it and those things happened simply because they happened? Their righteous comments usually are full of, “God gave us free will” “It’s part of God’s plan” or “God has promised us our place with him in Heaven for believing and loving him.” The more I bring logic into the conversation, the more they sound like a broken record (for those of you who don’t remember vinyl records, when they got damaged or scratched the needle would get stuck on that part of the song and keep repeating), but God, but God, but God, but God, but God, but God… I figure if I keep mentioning logical things, maybe some of it will seep past their brainwashing into their subconscious and plant a seed of free thinking in that skull of theirs.

Time to get off the computer, go outside, and help a little old lady across the street.

Entry 26 Bad parenting lesson of the day - keep an eye on your children at all times. After witnessing countless parents stroll along casually as their little angels run far ahead of Mommy and Daddy, I thought a lesson in parenting was in order. Just to be clear - no parents were harmed during this eye-opening experience.

<In my best Rod Serling voice>Two young boys, about 5 year's old racing each other a good 40 feet ahead of their parents on a crowded walkway. As they approach me, I wave to them with a hello gesture and *POOF*, they're gone! Not really gone, just invisible. Physically they are there, you just can't see them. I can tell that the boys themselves were having fun with not being seen, playing tag and sneaking around people. Just to add to the mystique of their disappearance I made them silent. Not only could you not hear their voices, but you couldn't hear their movements either. Of course, I was able to see and hear them.

By the time the parents of these two little ghosts reached me, I can tell that they still have no clue where their boys are, moms eyes were glued to her cell phone playing Pokemon Go and dad was taking pictures. I motioned for the boys to come over to me. I instructed them to follow their parents for as long as they can until they stop and wonder where you are. At that point, I suggested that they give them a little scare, nothing too crazy, we don’t want to give them a heart attack.  Their screams will be my cue to make them visible again. I hope those parents learned their lesson!

Entry 27 Oh, thank Heaven, for entry twenty-seven. I’ve always wanted to have one of those Candid Camera types of shows where you do something or set up a scene to watch peoples reactions. Now I can do it anytime I like. I love being out in public, such as at a farmers market, a bar, or a restaurant. As I walk past people, I would say, “Hello, I am Satan” in their native tongue. It’s always more fun when my target is wearing a cross or some kind of religious pendant. I love doing this to cultures that are very religious - Spanish, Italian, and French are fun, but the best is saying it in Latin. I walked past a superfluity of nuns on the street the other day, I made eye contact with one of the nuns, grinned as wide as I can, and said, “Salve, Satanas sum,” then I winked and blew her a kiss. The look of horror on the other nuns was priceless, the beautifully embarrassed blush of the one I had my sights on floored me! HAIL SATAN!

Do you want to have some fun? Here are a few that you could try out yourself!

Hola, soy Satanás (Spanish)

Bonjour, Je Suis Satan (French)

Hallo, ich bin Satan (German)

Ciao, sono Satana (Italian)

Salve, Satanas sum (Latin)

Usually, once the person looks at me inquisitively and possibly asks me what I just said, I just look dumbfounded and say, “I didn’t say anything” in perfect English.

Entry 28 I've noticed a lot of pop-up churches around town lately. Signs for church gatherings and services at other established churches. For example, I saw signs for a Presbyterian Church service in front of a Korean Church. They must be renting the church for their own congregation. My question is this, how many god-damn churches do believers need? And there are new ones popping up all the time - The Calling Church, Cenacle of Faith, TLC Church, but my favorite church is the Jews for Jesus. To the J of J, I say, "Make up your fucking mind!" Is the United States government just handing out tax-exempt status like candy on Halloween to anyone who claims to be a Church?

For shits and giggles, I had bumper stickers made that say, "SATAN LOVES YOU MORE" and I take selfies with it in front of any house of worship that I come across. This was inspired by countering the JESUS LOVES YOU signs that religious fanatics carry around in public. I now have a HUGE gallery of these pics. Maybe I should make a coffee table book of them and sell them, then donate the money to organizations like the Planetary Society and the Freedom From Religion Foundation.

Entry 29 I’m a huge star on YouTube, and nobody knows it. All of those videos of cars speeding down a street and suddenly get into an accident with what appears to be nothing - that was me. Putting invisible barriers in front of speeding cars is easy. Any video with an animal painting or drawing, me. All the paranormal shows and ghost hunters that experience garbled voices, cold spots, and an electromagnetic entity, yours truly. I love video editing, the way I do it.

Entry 30 My favorite saying these days, “It’s hot as Hades!”

Entry 31 Just for fun, I posted a photoshopped picture of a King James Holy Bible in a barbecue on fire. My Atheist friends thought it was funny, but I had some folks take quite an offense to it. I get it, burning a bible is akin to burning the America flag, two extremely revered objects that people kill in the name of. Would those offended feel better if I burned a copy LeVey's THE SATANIC BIBLE? I did it to make a point - they are just objects, physical things and nothing more. The value of these items is given to them by humans. I could take a 2 X 4 of wood and say that it is the most precious hunk of a tree on the planet and if I get enough people to believe me, then I have a sacred item - The Holy Post of Satan! If you burn my Holy Post, well, then you'll have kindling. If Jesus' bloody body hanging nailed to a wooden cross could be considered sacred, then so can my 2 X 4.

Entry 32 I wonder how many other Satans there have been, and what did they do? I feel like a new regeneration of Dr. Who but as Satan. This would be a fun trivia game that I could play by myself - look at world events over the Centuries and see if I can spot the ones that were facilitated by Satan. The Roman Empire? World War 1 or 2? Did Satan #30 leave me to deal with Donald Trump?!? (Satan never gives you anything you can’t handle)

Entry 33 San Diego Comic-Con International is the largest multi-genre entertainment and comic convention in the World, and a [relatively] safe environment for someone with actual superhero/super-villain powers to strut his stuff. Since getting in shape via the Satanic method meant that I could wear any lycra costume and look awesome. I chose instead, to go with the open shirt look of, wait for it…HELLBOY! Too obvious? Actually, it’s the perfect cover. When I make lasers actually shoot from a Stormtroopers gun, or make a kid dressed as Superman fly, they’ll never suspect HELLBOY.

I did it up right, morphed myself to look just like the Ron Perlman make-up from the movie, complete with oversized stone right hand and cigar (I love smoking cigars). I even smelled like roasted peanuts (hardcore fans will understand this). Personally, I chose this character because it just felt right.

Of course, Beth joined me, her hero of choice - Carol The Bowler from MYSTERY MEN. She looked great! She wore Dr. Marten’s, black jeans, the exact same jacket with the same patches on it, nail polish, dark eyeliner, dyed green hair, and without missing a detail - the enchanted skull bowling ball. Yes, I hexed her bowling ball prop so that she had power over it.

This was our first time attending ComicCon. It’s true, this convention has gotten huge and is mostly the entertainment industry buying and selling their next (they hope) billion dollar franchise. Regardless, the costumes of the Con-goers and hardcore fans are amazing! From toddlers dressed as the ‘mini-me’ of their parents' characters to the elderly wearing skimpy costumes that they probably shouldn’t be wearing, everybody looks fantastic and has fun posing with each other for friends and the media. One of my favorite groups that were there were the folks from Magic Wheelchair. They custom design motorized wheelchairs for kids with mobility issues. They do everything from an X-Wing Fighter from Star Wars to a Unicorn Princess, to a dragon or even a pirate ship, and they are all built by volunteers. The look on the kids' faces in their matching costumes was priceless (I’m such a big softy of a nerd).

Beth had everyone amazed at how she was able to make her bowling ball fly and control it. She was having fun flying the ball directly behind someone’s head and making it hover there like a balloon. When the unsuspecting character turned around, usually after someone near them told them to look behind them, they’d find themselves face-to-face with Carmine The Bowlers grinning skull. There were more than a few macho superheroes squeal like a little girl when confronted by his boney grin.

I kind of stood out also because I made myself 6’ 6.6” tall (Corny, huh?). I had the accent and dialect down pat. Some people started to think that I was Ron Perlman making a surprise appearance, even some of the event coordinators were on their cell phones trying to figure out who I was. One of my favorite things I did was to make people act in different ways as if they were hypnotized. I might have a guy dressed as Aquaman hiss and meows like a cat, or a Catwoman bark like a dog. I freaked out a kid dressed as Shazam!, when he started acting like the character trying to figure out how to fly, I made him levitate and then fly over the heads of spectators before gracefully landing in the same spot. (Speaking of Aquaman, I think I’ve got a man-crush on Jason Momoa) When I came upon the three guys wearing the Kim Jong-un, Donald Trump, and Vladimir Putin masks I couldn’t resist. I walked up behind them as they were dancing in front of a crowd and loudly exclaimed, “Well well well, what have we got here? The 3 Stooges!” I scared the holy dictator-shit out of them! “Kimmie, go suck a nuke. Don, ‘YOUR FIRED!’ And Pooty-Poot, stay out of our business!” The crowd went fucking wild! I love comic book geeks.

Entry 34 As often as I can, I like to go into a mixed neighborhood and wander the streets. Whenever I come across people, I like to just say hi, maybe ask them a question, and then shake their hand or pat them on the shoulder. Then when I do that to another person, I give them the power to experience some of what that last person I touched thinks and feels. You might say I’m sowing the seeds of empathy and understanding. No expectations, just spreading awareness in a friendly, social way. Imagine what could happen if in some of the poorer neighborhoods around Los Angeles the Latins, Blacks, Asians, Armenians, etc. start getting along and agreeing on things - shit’s gonna change real fast!

Whenever I travel anywhere I do this. I hope this awakening goes viral!

"He say I know you, you know me One thing I can tell you is You got to be free Come together, right now Over me” ~The Beatles

Entry 35 Welcome to Hell. I have found it, and we are all living in it. Yes, it is right here, our lives on planet Earth. Religion has convinced people for centuries that there is a firey place of hellfire and damnation that you will be sent to after you die if you have sinned while you were alive. Of course in some religions such as Christianity, there's always that loophole, or as I call it your 'get out of Hell free card.' Confess your 'sins' to a priest or donate a buttload of money to the Church and *POOF* magically you are saved! It's the oldest plot line in history - good vs. evil. There is always a hero and a villain, with their minions of angels and demons to do their bidding. This story of good/bad has been used primarily to control the masses. If you behave yourself, follow the scriptures of the religion you were brought up to believe, and don't question those in power, you'll go to Heaven. But if you think for yourself, question authority and choose to sin without asking for forgiveness from their savior, you're on your way to an afterlife of eternal pain, torture, and the repetition of your sinful ways (actually that last one doesn't seem too bad).

This existence we call life is either going to be our own personal Heaven or Hell. If you feel good about how your life is going, you could say life is like Heaven and you feel blessed. If you experience stress, depression, or anxiety due to the present state of the World at large, you are in your own personal Hell on Earth. What we, even Satan myself, choose to focus on will be how we judge whether we are living in Heaven or Hell. Don't get me wrong, I love the theatrics of Death Metal and Satanic Masses, but that's all they are - theater, entertainment, with lots of smoke and mirrors. The evangelicals love the drama as well, miracles and faith healing are two of their favorite things they use to exploit believers. Most religions use the image of Dante's Divine Comedy to scare followers into believing their rhetoric, which I find very comedic. I do love how organized Hell is. There are 9 levels called Circles of Hell. Depending on what your sin was, you are sent to the appropriate Circle. Lesser violations are sent to the upper Circles, while the hardcore sinners are sent all the way down towards #9. And then there is also Purgatory, which is a kind of 51/50 (72-hour hold) of purification before being allowed to enter Heaven. It seems like a lot of politics to me.

Entry 36 Part of the work that I do as Shaitan (word for Satan from the Quran) is challenging the stereotype of being the ultimate scapegoat for everything judged as bad. This act of not taking responsibility for one's own actions has been around as long as the good vs. evil plot line. It’s easy for people to pass-the-buck onto The Devil when things don’t go right or tragedy strikes. Geraldine Jones what famous for saying, “The Devil made me do it!” If this was true, I would have quite an impressive resume to brag about.

I love changing signs and billboards that blame The Dark One into blaming God’s Wrath. I saw a sign that read

GO TO CHURCH Or the DEVIL Will Get You!

So I fixed it. Now it reads

GO TO CHURCH Or God’s Wrath Will Get You!

Here’s a billboard that I saw

SHARIA LAW THREATENS AMERICA by UnitedAmericaCommittee.org

So I changed it to

GOD’S WRATHTHREATENS AMERICA by God.com

Do they want to play the fear game? I can play the fear game!

It has always seemed to me that when God doesn’t get his way or his followers don’t abide by his rules he punishes them, ie. the story of Noah’s Ark and the big flood. Satan doesn’t demand humanity to be loyal to him, he wants people to learn, think for themselves, and enjoy life. The people who invented God use fear and power to control their flocks, while Satan sings, "Come on people now, Smile on your brother, Everybody get together, Try to love one another, Right now” by The Youngbloods. Yes, it’s true, Satan is just a big ol’ music lovin’ mush bug.

Entry 37 My favorite actor to play The Devil on television is Ray Wise from the show REAPER. His mature, suave, and sexy look and demeanor was what I would want to be like if I was The Devil. Well, here I am, not exactly the Satan I thought I’d be. But it’s okay, I’m happy with how I look and my unique style. Again, like Dr. Who, each Doctor had his own unique style. I guess that goes for Satan as well. For a favorite movie actor as Satan, I would have to say Al Pacino in DEVIL’S ADVOCATE.

John Milton: Who are you carrying all those bricks for anyway?

God? Is that it? God?

 Well, I tell ya, let me give you a little inside information about God. God likes to watch.  He’s a prankster.  Think about it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift and then what does He do? I swear, for his own amusement, his own private cosmic gag reel, he sets the rules in opposition.

It’s the goof of all time. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, don’t swallow.*laughter*

And while you’re jumping from one foot to the next, what is He doing? He’s laughing his sick, fucking ass off. He’s a tight-ass. He’s a sadist. He’s an absentee landlord. Worship that? Never! Kevin Lomax: Better reign in hell than to serve in heaven, is that it? John Milton: Why not? I’m here on the ground with my nose in it since the whole thing began! I’ve nurtured every sensation man has been inspired to have! I cared about what he wanted and I never judged him. Why? Because I never rejected him, in spite of all his imperfections! I’m a fan of man! I’m a humanist. Maybe the last humanist. Who, in their right mind, Kevin, could possibly deny the 20th century was entirely mine? All of it, Kevin! All of it!Mine! I’m peaking, Kevin. It’s my time now. It’s our time.

Entry 38 I’m finding that even in Satanism there is angst and fighting between sects. It’s sad when even groups that truly want to do good in the world are corrupted by greed and power. Too many rules and doctrines end up working against the organization that is implementing them (see The Catholic Church). Here is another example of how the trickle-down effect doesn’t work. The people who occupy the upper-echelon want to stay at the top. Giving it away may sound Saintly, but I guarantee they would rather continue their comfortable, lush lifestyle than live like the majority of society. To soothe their guilty conscious, they donate scraps of money to charities that they deduct on their taxes.

If I become aware of this kind of selfish behavior, I like to make their generous ‘contribution’ check bounce, or their wire transfer fail. Not that I want to keep support from these charities, I would just rather them come from a more honest source, such as me.

Entry 39 Amorphophallus Titanum, aka The Corpse Flower. n. Latin: amorphos (without form, misshapen), phallos (penis), and titanum (giant). The flower gets its nickname from the pungent odor similar to rotting meat or a decaying corpse.

Lil’ Stinky as we call it at the Garden is quite popular when it blooms, which seems to happen anytime within an approximate 4 to 20 year period depending on the environment and conditions. The gardens become a media circus, and people waiting with bated breath to see and smell this natural wonder.

Just last week ol’ Stinky started to open, so the folks in the Botanical Department put it out on display and alerted the media. The biggest question of the week has been, “Has it bloomed yet?” When it does, hordes stand in line for hours to get a picture and a nauseating whiff of this infamous smelly penis flower.

I decided to take this display of [morbid] botanical beauty to the next level. I waited until Saturday to begin the facilitating process, since there will be more visitors, and there also happens to be a Members Summer Concert that night as well. Not only did Lil’ Stinky open, but grew to a size of over 20 feet in a matter of hours. Along with the size increasing exponentially, the odor intensified tenfold! Breathing inside the conservatory where it is housed and displayed, was almost impossible. About 1 in every 3 people lost-their-lunch, which just added to the death-like stench. They actually had to close down the viewing in order to clean up the mess and get some fresh air in there.

And, it was I that called the good folks at The Guinness Book of World Records. You’re welcome.

Entry 40 Often throughout my life, I’ve felt that one of my roles as this character I call me has been to act as a catalyst for change. Not necessarily earth-shaking events, but a change in policy, thoughts, or relationships. Many times when I’ve been involved in an organization, whether as an employee or a volunteer, major shifts take place during my stint with them. Sometimes it has manifested as a physical move to a different location or a change in policies. Roles and relationships change. I’m not saying that (up until now) I have consciously been making these shifts happen, but in hindsight, there has definitely been a pattern.

With the influence I have as Satan, this trend will continue, but more intentionally. Lately, I’ve been going to jails and prisons as a volunteer to simply talk to inmates and give them a chance to interact with someone other than fellow inmates and guards. Many of them don’t have friends, family, or a spouse to visit them. By being a neutral sounding board for them who doesn’t judge them is a great gesture in and of itself. I assist them a bit further by clearing their consciousness a bit more about life and the choices that they have made and why they are there. Sometimes this extra assistance bleeds over to some of the others incarcerated as well as some of the guards (oops, my bad).

Personally, I would love to see all of these for-profit prisons to go out of business. The less innocent people and low-offense (such as marijuana and drug abuse) folks are locked up, the more people in society to make positive changes in the world. Crooked politicians who are invested in these human money machines will be financially pinched hard by the loss of their inhumane investment.

Entry 41 God of the Bible (Old and New Testament) judges and punishes man, Satan accepts and supports Man in his efforts to enjoy and thrive in life. Just the simple fact that God is nothing more than a concept of man’s construct mostly used to control the masses, and Satan has been a tangible force doing good in the world says a lot. We are actually living in, as best as I can describe it, a reality that is more like the Upside Down from the series Stranger Things than we think. Here, people believe that God is good, Devil is bad. Yet there has always been more harm done in the name of God than anything that the Satanic Panic has ever yielded. Crucifixion, the Crusades, and the Republican Party are good examples of this. Whereas Witches, Pagans, and Satanists have been blamed for everything from bad crops to Smallpox, to the weather. Pills are good for you, but a plant is a drug. Priests are not Pedophiles, but Heavy Metal music makes kids kill. Trump is smart, while the press is fake news. Actors make good politicians, while kids who survive school shootings are called Crisis Actors. White is the new Black, and Brown is the new bad guy.

Don’t blindly believe everything that you’ve been taught your whole life. Do some research. Allow yourself the opportunity to see things through someone else’s eyes. Ask yourself, “What if what I know about something is the complete opposite?” What if Hell was a spa, and Heaven was a desolate, frozen and dead landscape? Be careful of labels.

Entry 42 Lettuce Prey. A favorite meme of many a Satanist on social media. There is a growing movement of Atheists and other secular groups that are attacking the concept of prayer to fix things such as natural disasters and ill-health. I just watched a satirical video about praying the gay away.

pray: verb - address a solemn request or expression of thanks to a deity or other object of worship.

Expecting an invisible being to adhere to your requests because you believe in them is as naive and childish as thinking that the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny are real. I’ve heard God described as not being ‘the Great Bellhop in the sky.’ Humankind has always seemed to place its faith in events and changes outside of itself.

So my question is this, what about the myths of people selling their souls to the Devil in exchange for talent, wealth, and power? Blues guitarist Robert Johnson supposedly met the Devil at the crossroads and sold his soul in exchange for being a virtuoso on the guitar, and thus made him a blues legend. I’m beginning to think that it really was The Devil that granted Mr. Johnson his extraordinary talents, as far as the soul-selling thing, I don’t know. If it’s true that humans souls are only their emotional reaction to things such as music, and that there is no otherworldly destination called Hell, maybe the Satan at that time was playing along with the whole Heaven and Hell story to bestow those talents to Robert Johnson simply because Satan loves the Blues.

I personally think the theatrics of pleading your case to The Devil and signing a contract with too much fine print, in blood, is very entertaining. Does it mean anything? Hell no! Plus, it would put you, as Satan, directly in the spotlight and might undermine your work to do good in the world.

Entry 43 I heard from Satan #30 last night in my dreams. He came through in the middle of a pee-dream (a dream that has some urgency to it in hopes of waking you up to go to the bathroom) where I was frantically trying to get somewhere on my URB-E but could never quite make it. There he was, at every stop that I thought had a bathroom. He was just checking on me to see if I had any questions or needed any assistance. I actually said, “Where the fuck is a bathroom around here?!?” He replied, “Down the hall on the right.” After acknowledging his answer with gratitude, the only thing I wanted to know was, am I doing it right? Was I doing enough with these Satanic powers? Should I kick it up a notch? Do I look good in red? He reassured me that I was doing great and reminded me to continue to have fun with this ‘work,’ actions speak louder than words, and [almost] always use caution. He then vanished, leaving me with a full bladder and a comforted mind.

Fully awake, standing over the toilet relieving myself and smiling. Today is going to be a delicious day!

Entry 44 "Now his holiest books have been trampled upon No contract that he signed was worth that what it was written on He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health He's the neighborhood bully.

What's anybody indebted to him for? Nothing, they say. He just likes to cause war Pride and prejudice and superstition indeed  They wait for this bully like a dog waits for feed He's the neighborhood bully.

What has he done to wear so many scars? Does he change the course of rivers? Does he pollute the moon and stars? Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill  Running out the clock, time standing still Neighborhood bully."

I love the lyrics to many of Bob Dylan's songs, especially Neighborhood Bully on his INFIDELS album. These are the last three verses of the song. I can't help but wonder whom Dylan was thinking of as the neighborhood bully in this song, Satan? Is Satan really such a bad guy, or has he just been labeled as the Neighborhood Bully of the World?

~

Yesterday Beth expressed to me that I don't look like The Dark Lord and I agreed, I look more like Gimli from the Lord of the Rings with a farmers tan, the only things dark on me are my arms and face.

Entry 45 This entry I dedicate to the 45th President of the United States, no really, this is the best dedication. I know dedications, I've dedicated billions and billions of dedications for many many years. I got good dedications. I am the best dedicator ever.

Just kidding! That bloated-orange headed-fast food chomping-megalomaniac who is being referred to as the evilest man on the planet is giving Satan a bad name! Maybe another nickname such as Purgatory Pete, or Donald the Damned, or simply Scum of the Earth might fit him better.

I did give him food poisoning from one of his two Big Macs, and both of his Filet-o-Fish sandwiches (this is only one meal), 3 out of 4, I was feeling generous.

Entry 46 Thanks to centuries of religious doctrines, the vast majority of people on this planet are lemmings, blindly believing anything that their holy men, politicians, and advertisers tell them. They have been trained to obey, spend more money than they have (aka credit and loans), and feel overly righteous about their culture. How does one motivate folks to think for themselves and put their differences aside?

I could help promote Dan Barker’s book - GOD The Most Unpleasant Character In All Fiction. Mr. Barker basically uncovers and highlights the vast number of times GOD is jealous, petty, unjust; an unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously, and a malevolent bully in the Old Testament. This ought to open their eyes and get someone’s panties in a bunch.

After finding out in the news that Howard Lorber, the Executive Chairman of Nathan’t Famous Inc. (the makers of Nathan’s Famous Hot Dogs) was hosting a fundraiser in the Hamptons for President Trump, I thought that tainting the production of some all-America hot dogs would be a good place to start to add fuel to this fire. Choke on it, Mr. Lorber! (Hmmm, I seem to be feeling rather wrathful lately)

Entry 47 And on His 6th and 7th days, Satan rested, because those were His days off from his day job. Not that I didn’t do any good deeds, I just chill-out the most on those days; smoke pot, do a bit of cleaning around the house, fix potholes in the street we live on, smoke some more pot, nap with the dogs, cook dinner, and wipe the sweat off of my brow.

Just thought of an awesome slogan to fit-in with today's generation - SATAN IS MY SUPERHERO. Maybe we’ll start with bumper stickers, then t-shirts, hats, and capes!

Entry 48 This is going to sound odd, but as of late I have decided to not continue as a member of The Satanic Temple. Wait, Satan doesn’t want to be a member of The SATANIC Temple??? Yes, it’s true. I found out that there was a power struggle going on between the higher-up and the local chapters, so following many other Satanists, I quit. Like the rest of TST expats, I still believe in their mission and the 7 tenets, but being a part of this organization is not working for me if you get my drift (Now THERE’S a statement that shows my age!).

I’ve learned about myself that I don’t seem to last very long in an organization.  I’m kind of a lone wolf in a way. I also tend to become a catalyst for change wherever I am. Just recently I have accepted this fact as well as fully embrace it.

Entry 49 If I ever start my own metal band, I’ve got the perfect name: SEB - Satan’s Eternal Benevolence (How’s that for getting personal?!?). I’ll be the lead singer, maybe I can get Robert Trujillo (Metallica) to play bass, Kerry King (Slayer) and John 5 (Rob Zombie) on guitars, and my cousin Rod Morgenstein (Dixie Dregs, Winger) and Dave Grohl (Nirvana, Foo Fighters) on drums. Oh sweet the sound. Our first single - Satan Loves You More is a counter-attack to the signs, Jesus loves you, that believers like to carry around.

Entry 50 Captains Log - August 20, 2018: I’ve seen more SATAN LOVES YOU MORE stickers all around town from Pasadena to Downtown Los Angeles, the San Fernando Valley, and all the way down to Redondo Beach. Your boy gets around! Almost like a subliminal message planting a seed in their subconscious, I’m letting them know that I am there for them.

Mikey ‘The Good Christian’ Pence has been spouting off lately again. He’s still pushing for creationism to be taught in public schools, wants the government to pay for gay conversion therapy, and hinted that condoms are ‘too modern’ and ‘too liberal.’ I guess my last visit as his Almighty God didn’t get through to him, time for a more direct approach. From now on, every time Mikey mentions God, the Bible, or utters the word Christian his ass from his tight little butthole, to his cheeks, and around to his tiny little pee pee will burn like the fires of Hell that he is so damn afraid of. I guess you could say he’ll be a real Royal Flush. He’ll look like the poster boy for Red Devil Fireworks. Matadores will yell OLE! and bulls will want to gouge him with their horns. Latin Americans will call him El Diablo (Wait, I take offense to that!). This ought to be fun to watch - the VP is going to go viral!

Entry 51 On my playlist these days:

PIG - The Gospel, Risen

FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH - And Justice For None, Got Your Six, War Is The Answer, The Wrong Side Of Heaven And The Righteous Side Of Hell

PINK FLOYD - The Final Cut

Entry 52 ’Hackers’ <wink, wink> deleted the credit card debt of hundreds of thousands of credit card users, mostly VISA, MASTERCARD, and DISCOVER. A good majority of AMERICAN EXPRESS cardholders can afford their debt so they can keep it.

A homeboy was pulled over on the side of the street having car problems with his lowered, gold Chevy Impala, so as I rode by on my URB-E I nodded to him and fixed his ride instantaneously. Without even questioning what just happened, he simply gave me a nod of approval and thanks. Maybe it was my motorcycle helmet with the three devil horns mounted on it, but there was a sense of respect at that moment.

Entry 53 I had another visit from Satan #30 last night, he was just checking in on me (WOW, the Satanic support staff is AWESOME!). I shared with him that I’m getting the hang of doing the Devil’s work and I wish I could do more. He reassured me that patience is one of Satan’s best friends, but to be very aware of Vampires. I asked him if Vampires actually existed, and he was extremely assuring that they did. He said that they have been on this planet as long as man has, and as man evolved so did they. Over time they have learned techniques to blend in with mankind and improve their tactics on how to not only survive but thrive. They’ve learned how to suck the life out of someone, yet keep them alive and craving more from their vampire. This species of vampires is one of the worst. The Latin name for these vile creatures is Vampires de Emotus, or more commonly know as Emotional Vampires.

Emotional Vampires, along with their close cousins the Mental Vampires, will suck the will to live right out of you. At first, they seem like a friend or relative that is going through some frustrating issues, but the moment you step in to help, they trap you and slowly begin torturing you with their long and drawn out monologues of woe-is-me. You want to escape their grasp, but guilt overcomes you and feeds off of your decency as a human being. *Note to self: unfriend 80% of my friends list on Facebook.

Entry 54 There is a small group of homeless folks that make camp by the Gold Line Metro Station on Allen Ave. I ride past them daily on my way to work. They recognize me and wave in appreciation of my acknowledging them. They are never hostile or beg for money from me, it’s like we are neighbors seeing each other around the same time each day. The most social of the group is a guy that goes by the nickname Chuckhead (I didn’t ask.) He’s a tall - 6’5”, broad-shouldered and bald rock of a man, and also one of the kindest and most genuine I’ve ever met. Chuckhead told me that he was a steelworker from Pennsylvania, but when worked dried up because of Trump messing around with tariffs, he moved out west. With no money and no permanent address, it’s been hard to get a job and find a place to live. He hooked up with this bunch as a way to always have somebody to watch your back and what little stuff you might have.

I set up accounts with Dominos Pizza, Vons, and Jameson Brown Coffee Roaster and have them deliver to Chuckhead on a regular basis. I explained to Chuckhead that I’m doing this to assist them in taking care of themselves while living on the streets. I simply asked that they use their strength find something to do for money, that is legal, and that they feel good about themselves for doing something for themselves.

Funny thing, people in trucks and vans started coming around looking for laborers to do yard work or help someone move, hmm.

Entry 55 There is a kind of Universal Knowledge that Satan has the ability to access. It's like tapping into a vast database of history and current knowledge, sort of like how the human subconscious records everything that a person thinks, feels, and experiences, but on an infinite scale. I started to notice that when I wondered about something I would get an answer. After a little bit of investigation, I found out that this is true and started testing it. Often. This is like having the fastest internet connection you could imagine but in your head.

Entry 56 The other day I watched a DIY video demonstrating how to make a magic [looking] wand from a chopstick using a glue gun and some paint. I thought, how fun would it be to have a cheesy little wand that I can do actual magic with. No one will ever suspect that a homemade magic wand made out of the finest disposable pine chopsticks would actually be able to perform real magic. I can make up wizarding sounding words such as, "Shutus Trapus" (to silence a person), "Vanisimo" (to make someone or something vanish), and "Gigglitis" (uncontrollable laughter) to command my powers.

I bet I could make some serious change busking as a street corner magician. I'll wear a top hat and cape to give me that old-time magician look. "Hocus pocus, alacazam - turn this girl into a man!" And poof, this cute little 9-year-old eating frozen yogurt, with a flash of light and a billow of smoke, instantly becomes a full-grown bearded man wearing tight jean shorts and a t-shirt that says, 'BEAR' on it. The best part was when she hugged her dad out of fear of the light and smoke part of the show, and they both realized that she was now a big ol' he. Of course, I turned her back to her original self when I distracted the crowd with an impromptu light-show across the street.

Seeing the looks of surprise and amazement on people's faces, and the smiles and laughter is the real reason I do this kind of stuff (but the pay ain't so bad either).

Entry 57 57 Varieties of Pickles" by the H.J. Heinz Company. That’s the first thing I thought of when I realized that I was about to start Entry 57. Heinz Tomato Ketchup was my absolute favorite condiment to smother all over my french fries, onion rings and scrambled eggs.

Since California is my home turf, I healed the San Andrea's Fault. Sort of like fixing two pieces a giant ball from pulling apart by using Super Glue. No more shakers, rattlers, or fear of California falling into the ocean. No 'Big One,' just peace of mind. I don't think anyone will notice, except for the geology geeks at Cal Tech.

Entry 58 I’ve developed my own style of stove-top cooking that creates food that is to-die-for. I take a skillet with a high edge (approx. 2”) and let it pre-heat for a minute or so, then I add one drop of cannabis-infused oil to the center of the pan. As flames rise around the edge of the skillet, I place my food; vegetables, chicken, or fish, in the dead center. The flames then envelope the tasty morsels and cook them to the point where the inside is cooked perfectly and the outside is charred deliciously for the best look and feel. I call this method Satan Flambé.

Entry 59 Whenever I’ve asked a believer in God where Heaven was, they would inevitably point to the sky. Okay, I get it, Heaven is up and Hell is down, but what I want to know is why does Heaven always looks like it’s just above a bunch of fluffy white clouds, seen from the window of a plane, in our atmosphere? Believers will argue that it is beyond space, but again I ask, why does it look that way? And how the Hell do they know? The bible was written by men Centuries ago, long before air travel, they would have no way of knowing what it looked like beyond the clouds. While I’m at it, which one of those lily-white-ass holy men knew exactly what a sinner would expect when they arrived in Hell? I think some scholars with some hallucinogenic plants and a great imagination had a field day composing the greatest piece of fiction man has ever created.

Entry 60 I often hear overly empathetic believers say, “Thereby the grace of God go I” when they see someone who appears less fortunate than themselves. I figured if they can use God as their fictional character of caring, I can use any other fictional character that I choose; “Thereby the grace of Ironman go I,” “Thereby the grace of Captain Kirk go I,” and my favorite, “Thereby the grace of Satan go I.”Try it sometime, it’s fun!

Entry 61 Mankind is a tough nut to crack. From the beginning of the human race, from small tribal villages to modern urban cities, man has been in love with power. Power over another person or people, power over the environment, power over the weather. To control others and profit from this behavior has become the Universal Dream. The negative side of greed - void of morals and value for life. This is the side of greed that sees other human beings as merely a commodity, a vehicle to exploit and discard. The positive side of greed is the motivation to do more and to want better for yourself and others.

I find that individually people are incredible, more than a couple and you start to get that group mentality. Groups can be dangerous because 1) they’re larger and more powerful, and 2) they can be more easily led to believe untruths. Groups become a generality, a race or culture of people, whereas one or two people are simply that, people. Fellow human beings with histories, families, stories, triumphs, and failures.

There is an insane amount of division between folks these days. Party lines in governments, religions, economic class, ethnicity, age, sports - it always comes down to us against them. We have been divided up and fattened for slaughter. My big quandary is how in tarnation am I going to do enough good in the World to make a difference? I already knew the answer to my own question - the only one judging me on whether or not I’m doing enough good in the World is me.

“What, me worry?” - Alfred E. Newman

Entry 62 The people that totally crack me up, but are extremely dangerous to society and the environment are those that claim to be the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. From Kondratiy Selivanov and Ann Lee in the 18th Century to the nutcases Oscar Ramiro Ortega-Hernandez and Alan John Miller of today, these extremists actually think that they are the embodiment of Jesus Christ. According to Wikipedia, there are 30 of these folks from the 20th and 21st Centuries alone. This is cosplay on a whole different level. I mean yeah, you'll find guys dressed as Jesus at Comic-Con, usually riding a T-Rex and sporting an automatic weapon, but they know that they are just playing around. To spout gospel, start your own cult, and take innocent people's money, and sometimes their lives are downright criminally insane.

Here are a few quotes from Alan John (AJ) Miller, head of the Divine Truth cult in Australia, "There's probably a million people who say they're Jesus and most of them are in asylums. But one of us has to be. How do I know I am? Because I remember everything about my life."

"Just a little over 2000 years ago, we arrived on the Earth for the first time."

"My name is Jesus and I'm serious."

This guy is a classic cult leader who has done his homework. He has plucked peoples heartstrings by calling himself Jesus. He uses the 5 common methods of mind control;  1. People are put in physical or emotionally distressing situations, 2. Their problems are reduced to one simple explanation, which is repeatedly emphasized, 3. They receive unconditional love, acceptance, and attention from a charismatic leader or group, 4. They get a new identity based on the group, 5.  They are subject to entrapment (isolation from friends, relatives and the mainstream culture) and their access to information is severely controlled. Miller has mixed in scientific proof with biblical bullshit and called it Gods Truth. It sounds convincing, but come on, humans have only been around for 2000 years?!? (It's actually closer to 200,000)

*note to self: never be like that.

Entry 63 After a little research, I found out that only a handful of families own and operate the World Banks and are heavily invested in all of the Fortune 500 companies. Ah ha, so I’m not a conspiracy nut! This mafia of money has almost every major country in their very deep pockets. These money magnets figured out what makes the most money - destruction. If they create, allow, and promote any kind of disaster that will need fixing, they finance it and get fiscally fatter. War is easy, push some false propaganda about a country who doesn’t want to sell their resources to these world banks, send in a bully such as the United States to create a coup, and finance both sides of the war and the rebuilding of the country. The devastation of natural disasters is a major cash cow. Mankind has been messing around with controlling the weather [scientifically] since the 1940s. Cloud seeding is real. The larger and more powerful the storm, the more flooding and devastation, the sweeter the payout is for these robber barons. The mainstream media are puppets that they control to promote the fear-mongering and hatred that keeps people divided and fighting. To them, human beings are merely collateral cattle to do their bidding, over-populate, and die off in the slaughter.

And they say Satan is the evil one! If greed is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, these Bastards should be very dead (oh that’s right, the bible is just a book of fiction). I love to mess with their capitalistic system by hitting them where it hurts, in their wallets. I like to create boycotts of companies and products that are morally guilty and have safety issues and hazardous ingredients. Now you know why Walmart and Amazon stocks keep dropping like a lead balloon (Sorry guys, should be treating your employees better and paying them a decent wage to live on).

Entry 64 “Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64.” - The Beatles

Today I was challenged by some dimwit visitor at work. He thought he was being funny by wearing his admission sticker somewhere hidden. When I asked him if he had his admission sticker he quite confidently exclaimed, “Yes!” When I asked to see the sticker he declared, “Don’t worry, I AM wearing it.” At this point, I was ready to have some fun. I very politely said, “Game on. Let’s play. If you truly are wearing that sticker, it will begin to burn through your clothing and brandish itself onto your skin. If nothing burns, you don’t have a sticker and need to go buy one, AND one for another person waiting in line. The fire has been lit, and the burning will commence in 5, 4, 3, 2,1…

It was like watching a live action cartoon, his face went from a smartass cocky grin straight to a look of horror and confusion. I found out real quickly where he stuck that sticker. After letting him jump around smacking his own ass like he was riding in a rodeo, I stopped the burning. As a parting gift, I left the sticker inked onto his skin as a permanent reminder of our time together. What can I say, I’m a giver.

Entry 65 I love the names of some of the fundraisers that Satanic groups come up with; SOLES FOR SATAN, MASTERBATIN’ FOR SATAN, MENSTRATIN’ FOR SATAN, SATANIC BLACK MASS, SATANIC STORY TIME, EXERCISING DEMONS, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL. I think there should be something for senior citizen Satanists - CONSTIPATED FOR SATAN, GRAMP’N FOR SATAN, or for the Jewish Satanists - SHALOMING FOR SATAN. HEIL SATAN for those dedicated German Satanists, and for the White Supremacist Satanists(?) I’LL KILL MYSELF FOR SATAN.

Entry 66{6} Via one of my favorite information source, Wikipedia, some Number of the Beast history and trivia:

In Kabbalistic Judaism the number 666 does not play any significant role as such. However, the perfect number 6 and some of its multiples (e.g. 36, 72 and 216) represents the creation and perfection of the world. The world was created in 6 days, and there are 6 cardinal directions (North, South, East, West, Up, Down). 6 is also the numerical value of one of the letters of God's name, associated with the Sefirah of Tiferet, which represents harmony, beauty, and cosmic balance. Rabbi Eliezer Horovitz, quoting the Vilna Gaon, mentions in his book Mosad ha-Yesod that the number 666 contains hidden within it exalted and lofty messianic potential, but does not explain any details of this conjecture.

Jehovah's Witnesses believe that the beast identified by the number 666 represents the world's unified governments in opposition to God. The beast is said to have "a human number" in that the represented governments are of a human origin rather than spirit entities. The number 666 is said to identify "gross shortcoming and failure in the eyes of Jehovah," in contrast to the number 7, which is seen as symbolizing perfection.

Seventh-day Adventists taking this view believe that the Mark of the Beast (but not the number 666) refers to a future, universal, legally enforced Sunday-sacredness. "Those who reject God's memorial of creator-ship—the Bible Sabbath—choosing to worship and honor Sunday in the full knowledge that it is not God's appointed day of worship, will receive the 'mark of the beast.’"

"The Sunday Sabbath is purely a child of the Papacy. It is the mark of the beast.”

Idealism, also known as the allegorical or symbolic approach, is an interpretation of the book of Revelation that sees the imagery of the book as non-literal symbols. The idealist perspective on the number of the beast rejects gematria, envisioning the number not as a code to be broken, but a symbol to be understood. Idealists would contend that because there are so many names that can come to 666 and that most systems require converting names to other languages or adding titles when convenient, it has been impossible to come to a consensus. Given that numbers are used figuratively throughout the book of Revelation, idealists interpret this number figuratively as well. The common suggestion is that because seven represents completeness and is associated with the divine, that six is incomplete and the three sixes are "inherently incomplete". The number is therefore suggestive that the Dragon and his beasts are completely inadequate. Another suggestion is that this number represents an individual's incomplete or immature spiritual state.

In 1989, Nancy and Ronald Reagan, when moving to their home in the Bel-Air section of Los Angeles after the 1988 election, had its address—666 St. Cloud Road—changed to 668 St. Cloud Road. In 2003, U.S. Route 666 in New Mexico was changed to U.S. Route 491. A New Mexico spokesperson stated, "The devil's out of here, and we say goodbye and good riddance."The phobia has been a motif in various horror films such as The Omen and its 2006 remake. The number of the beast also appears in other films such as Pulp Fiction, The Doom Generation, End of Days, Bedazzled, and The Phantom of the Opera. Some women expressed concern about giving birth on June 6, 2006 (6/6/06).

I know that I should have waited until Entry 666 to lay all this Number of the Beast stuff on you, but I just couldn’t wait to share.

Entry 67 I have actually come to appreciate the creators of government, religion, and commerce. Their patience in their long-term goals of corruption and greed is unsurpassed. They knew even then, that control of the minds, hearts, and money of the masses would ensure them wealth and power. The Catholic Church has been molesting children for centuries, and followers to this day still believe that the Church is here to do good in the World. According to TIME magazine, the Catholic Church is worth somewhere between 10 and 15 billion dollars, and they don’t pay taxes on any of it! The naivety of a huge portion of the populous, for this long, is almost unfathomable. Countries have been spying on each other, keeping secrets, and starting wars not for the reasons the mainstream media tell us, but for private profit. And of course, major corporations know that enough money spent on lobbying and bribes buys you control of both governments and religion. The 'War on Drugs' is funded by the U.S. government. The U.S. military protects the poppy fields in Afghanistan, then supplies the drugs made from the poppy, and then uses the drugs as an excuse for police brutality and more drug-related arrests. Privately run prisons make a killing off of the minor drug convictions. None of this is new, they just keep getting better at pulling the wool over the sheeple's eyes. I guess you could say I am the fly in the ointment, the wrench in the system, the thorn in their side. I’m like the older brother sticking his finger an inch from his little brothers face while repeating, “I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you, I’m not touching you…”

Entry 68 It's officially Fall here in Southern California, which basically means it still feels like Summer. Daytime temps are in the 80's and 90's and humid in the evenings. It can be difficult to get into the Halloween spirit when the smell of suntan lotion fills the air and people are walking around in shorts and t-shirts. Here is Satan wishing for cooler weather <insert irony here>. I'm starting to think about what I want to be for All Hallows Eve. Since October 31 in Beth and my wedding anniversary, that night holds a special place in our hearts. Every year we do something fun and darkly-themed to celebrate our nuptials such as visit the Winchester Mystery House, take a trip to New Orleans or even go camping at a ghost town. But this year will be the first time I honor my love as Satan.

Entry 69 The yin and yang, the sex position, 96 to a dyslexic. The key is finding a balance. I'm finding out that I can't, and probably shouldn't try to save the world. A very wise supervisor once said to me, "Sometimes you've got to let it fail." This is a good reminder also to not draw too much attention to myself Satanic self. It's so easy to want to right every wrong, make every criminal pay for their crimes and be the hero, but I've got to remember - Satanic Lowriding (Satanic lowriding sounds like I'm riding around in a murdered out black Chevy Impala with red leather interior and hydraulics).

Entry 70 I have a confession, I like watching videos of people having huge pimples popped and blackheads squeezed. It's like a car crash, you don't want to look but you can't help it. Seeing the pus pulp of dead white blood cells and fresh red blood being pushed forth from the skin of their host makes me feel like I have the cleanest skin EVER! There is a woman on Facebook who goes by the name of Doctor POP that is a true artist at dermal cleansing. It's so beautifully sterile the way the patients are covered in surgical protectants leaving only the infected area exposed for Doctor POP to lacerate and squeeze like she's popping a champagne bottle with her latex covered fingers, true anatomic artistry.

Entry 71 Beth and I are not planning on having kids, but if we did, I'd like to use the names of the Devil to identify our little bundles of joy and also piss off the religious right. I just read an article about seven boys named Lucifer in England and Wales, how fun is that! Those towns are going think that it's an evil uprising coming to take over the World! I can just see our boy Lucifer burning up the streets on his skateboard, Satanas attending her first prom, and baby Beelzebub bouncin' 'round the room. My minion of misfit minors. I would teach our kids to be confident but not aggressive (unless it is necessary), to be proud of their names, and always keep their sense of humor. What will baby Bee's first word be, flies?

Entry 72 Last night I worked [security] for a wedding at the Garden. The usual big fancy set up with lots of staging, flowers, and rich people dressed to the 9's. The event was fine, until about 10:30 when a few of the neighbors in this wealthy suburb complained about the volume of the music coming from the dance floor. It was a beautiful celebration and everything was running smoothly until that visit by the police to turn things down, which did put a bit of a damper on the bride and grooms special day. As an anonymous wedding gift, I placed an invisible sound barrier around the property and told informed the DJ to turn it up. I asked my supervisor to step outside the gate of the garden near where the reception was being held to check the decibel reading. When she confirmed that it was quiet as a mouse across the street, we let the party rage on. The list of songs Mr. DJ was spinning from his laptop computer was an awesome mix of classic wedding tunes such as, "We Are Family" and "The Time of My Life, " to modern hip-hop. Mazel Tov you two crazy kids.

Entry 73 October 1st. Despite the fact that it is 95 degrees and sunny hasn't put a damper on my Halloween enthusiasm, as a matter of fact, it only motivates me more to find creative ways to celebrate All Hallows Eve. Since we are in Southern California and don't get the cool Fall weather with trees changing to a lovely Autumn orange and yellow, my image of this spooky time of year is that of an old western ghost town - dusty streets with tumbleweed blowing by, an old cemetery with wooden grave markers, and skeletons wearing cowboy hats and boots. Even though our apartment looks like we decorate for Halloween all year round, things get even more creepy during the last few months of the year. The 'Holiday Season' is a hauntingly beautiful time. Our neighbors have agreed to let me decorate the whole building, which means there will be a lot of traffic on our street due cars slowing down in amazement of our ghoulish display while expelling shrieks, ooo’s and ahhh’s. Time to start designing…

Entry 74 I had fun today at work doing nice, little, anonymous things for people. When I saw a co-worker with a handful of stuff approaching the reception door, I’d make the door gently swing open just as they arrived at the threshold. People would suddenly get great cell phone reception. Flowers would slowly fade from their original color to another hue, and then back. I even put a smile on a woman’s scowling face. Seeing the look of confusion convert to a pleasant surprise in her eyes was priceless.

Entry 75 Faux 'Service Dogs' used to really bother me when their obnoxious owners would get defensive when I would stop them to ask the two questions that, by law, I am allowed to ask, 1. Is it a Service Dog, and 2. What specific task is the dog trained to provide for their disability? The lying dog owner would always get agitated and blurt out something like, “Medical reasons” or “According to the ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) you can’t ask me that” which just proves their dishonesty and arrogance. Now, I simply ask the dogs.

Today a couple tried to get in with not one, but two dogs. The white Maltese pups were on extending leashes held by the tattooed-shaved head-muscle shirt-douche with an attitude. When I asked him the questions he gave me the standard answers, they were service dogs and that I was not allowed to ask him the second question. I immediately looked down at the canines and asked them, “Are YOU Service Dogs?” to which they replied by telling me, “Service? We just want to run around, pee and poop!” They then both peed on their lying owners' legs and turn around to run back the other way. I politely look at him and said, “Service dogs huh? Get out and stop abusing a law that is for protecting the rights of disabled people whom legitimately need a dog to assist them through life.” He shot me a look of pure hatred that I found extremely humorous as they turned and stomped away, all the while his girlfriend never said a word, only rolling her eyes in embarrassment.

Entry 76 Typical of the church, they find something that people celebrate and enjoy and steal it for their own propaganda. I love a good haunted house, the more realistic the better. Hell Houses are the Christian haunted houses that show vignettes of the horrors of sinning - Anti-abortion, anti-drug, anti-free thinking, etc… The earliest hell house appears to have been created by Rev. Jerry Falwell in the late 1970s. The concept was picked up in 1992 by Keenan Roberts. His first Hell House was in Roswell, NM. Since then, he has become a pastor of the Destiny Church in Arvada, CO and sells Hell House Outreach™ kits to other churches. Included is a 263-page manual which covers everything from casting to publicity to instructions on how to make hamburger meat look like a fetus and where to store vats of blood. Roberts was once quoted saying that Hell Houses, "show young people that they can go to hell for abortion, adultery, homosexuality, drinking and other things unless they repent and end the behavior.” Can you believe this shit?!? Taking something fun like being frightened by gore and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night (which are healthy things to be afraid of), and scarring kids for life with these barbaric recruitment tactics.

There is a Hell House in West Hollywood, CA. I thought to myself, “How much fun would it be to visit their little moral macabre show and scare the Hell out of THEM?!?” So I did. It wasn’t very crowded, mostly parishioners of that church and their delusional families. I acted humble and quiet, waiting to see the horrors of modern life they were about to show me. In all of the rooms I went into, I changed the attitude of the actors to the enjoyment of the sin they were demonstratively demonstrating as opposed to the negative scare tactics of which they intended to portray. I had couples thanking God for the ability to get an abortion because of rape, men and women/men and men/women and women passionately making love, and one scene where a family was sitting around the kitchen table smoking pot and drinking wine and beer. For fear that anyone would see this gross display of carnal pleasure, this Hell House closed almost immediately after I left the premises.

Entry 77 So the story goes that back in the heyday of Rock and Roll on the Sunset Strip in Hollywood there was a drinking club made up of musicians known as the Hollywood Vampires who hung out at the famous Rainbow Bar on Sunset Blvd. next door to the Roxy club. They acquired the name Hollywood Vampires because they were only seen at night and quite often were drinking red wine. Fast forward to 2015. Three friends - Alice Cooper, Joe Perry of Aerosmith, and actor/musician Johnny Depp get together and decide to form a band to honor their dead drunk friends from rock and roll's past, and aptly name the band the Hollywood Vampires. Along with some of the best session players in the biz, the Vampires totally shred on songs by their friends from bands such as The Who, Led Zeppelin, T-Rex, and many others. I have been listening to their debut album non-stop for a couple of weeks! Alice Cooper being the rock and roll patriarch of the group owns the stage with his commanding prowess, while Joe, Johnny and the rest of the band rock the hell out of the songs of their fallen compadres. Never stop rockin’!  

Entry 78 I’m sort of happy that the folklore character Krampus is becoming more popular, at the same time I’d hate to see such kind-hearted ally become the victim of over-marketing. Krampus, in European folklore, looks like a fur-covered half goat/half demon. He plays the bad-cop to Saint Nicholas’ good-cop. While ol’ St. Nick rewarded the good children with toys, Krampus punished the bad kids by beating them with a birch switch, gathering them up in his wicker basket he wears on his back and tosses them into a special place in Hell. I’m tired of seeing all the faux goodwill towards man bullshit around Christmas time, and then it’s back to displaying our prejudices and hate to each other.

Entry 79 Not surprising, I support the supposed ‘War on Christmas.’ Of course, there is no War on Christmas, it’s just the extreme right-wing Christians that feel threatened because there are other people who celebrate the Winter Solstice differently than they do. Everything has to be “Merry Christmas” instead of “Happy Holidays.” They get their Jesus loving panties in a bunch when Starbucks’ holiday cups don’t look Christmasy enough. They actually think that December 25th is the birthday of their fictional savior. Oy Vey.

Christmas lights on churches can’t seem to stay lit for some reason <wink wink>. People who display giant crosses as part of their Christmas decorations tend to find them inverted each night when they turn on their retina-burning light displays. Hypocrites who complain about Starbuck’s cups but continue to buy their coffee find that holding that not-Christmas-enough cup is impossible because it is hot as Hell in their sacred hands (making McDonald’s coffee seem like an ice bath).

Every time a choir sings, a demon gets their wings.

Entry 80 I think I’m going to take it easy for the rest of the year and wait for the overly sponsored Tournament of Roses Parade on New Years Day. Maybe I’ll hex the floats so that none of them stall or breakdown on the parade route. Happy New Year!©

[supernatural-dreamer]

The Missing Piece (Erik Killmonger x Sister!OC)

A/N: Hey guys! This is the fanfic i probably had so much fun writing. Do I want to turn this into a series? I’m not sure. But if it does well, I’ll be gladly doing so! Let me know what you guys think!

SPOILERS AHEAD!

~Lauren

Imagine if Erik had a sister that he left behind on his journey to Wakanda. How will she react to the news of his death? Will she return to Wakanda and meet the rest of her estranged family? Or will she let vengeance consume her and begin pick up where her brother left off?

Masterlist

"Bitch, if you ever touch me again, imma knock your ass to kingdom come! The hell is wrong with you?!" I shout at some white girl who tried to touch my hair.

I've never seen someone run so damn fast in my life.

"Girl, when will they ever learn?" My coworker, Vicki, shook her head. 

"I'm telling you. Where I'm from, you get your ass beat for going near a black woman's hair. The hell I look like, a petting zoo?" I scoffed, Vicki chuckled. 

 The door bell rang and I went over to take their order. The campus diner was kinda slow around midnight, and I needed something to get me through the next hour before I got off my shift.

"I got this one, Kim. You go ahead and go home."

Shit, you ain’t have to tell me twice. I headed out the diner in record time and into the night.

The heat of the California sun never seemed to end, even after it got dark. Then again, I should be used to it. 

I shuffle into my dorm and shut the door behind me, sprawling across my bed, exhausted.

It was damn near 2 o'clock in the morning. I hated my job, but you do what you got to do to keep your scholarship. Standford was out of my. . . element a little bit.

 Growing up in Oakland, you had to be tough, otherwise you ended up six feet under. That toughness got me through a lot of things. Hell, it got me here,

But I learned very quickly that it don't matter how tough you are,

Ain't no place like home.

You're surrounded by people who love and care about you at home, but what's even better is that you're surrounded by  people like you. 

Here, I was the black girl in mostly white world. The odd one out. The "representative" of all things black. But I do what anyone else would-

Focus on what the hell I came here for and beat anybody’s ass that tries to come between that.

I dragged myself off the couch and onto my bed ready to pass out. I'm so thankful my roommate decided to take her frequent one night stands to their place. Otherwise, her ass would be on the street, tonight.

 I finally began to fall asleep when I hear a loud banging on the door.

"I know the devil is a damn lie. It is two o'clock in the fucking morning. This better be good." I muttered, groggily getting out of bed. Another loud knock.

"I'm comin', hold on a damn minute! If y'all don't stop all the loud noise, I swear, Madea ain't gone have nothing on me!”

Swinging the door open, 3 men in suits were standing there. The two men stood behind the shorter white guy staring at me with blank expressions.The shorter man with salt and pepper hair began to speak. 

"Kimberly Stevens?"

I swallowed nervously, but stood my ground. "It depends, who's asking?" I cross my arms in front of my chest.

"I'm Special Agent Ross, CIA. Do you have a moment?"

"Well, whatever it is it's two o'clock in the damn morning so it must be important. What is this about?" He hesitates for a moment.

"It's about your brother, Erik. We're going to need you to come with us."

With those words, my world came crashing down.

About an hour later, I ended up in a conference room at the CIA headquarters downtown. I tried pressing them for answers, but they wouldn't tell me anything. I know how this is supposed to go, so I made sure to keep my hands visible and followed their instructions-while scoping out the nearest exit. 

The whole time, I thought about what could've happened to Erik, and I pray to god that he is at least is still alive. 

He's the only family I got left.

A door opening snaps me out of my thoughts. Agent Ross from earlier sits down in front of me.

"So, is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?" I break the silence, not caring at this point.

"Miss Stevens, what do you know about your brother's whereabouts?" He asks opening looking at a folder.

"I haven't seen my brother in almost 2 years, except for the occasional Christmas or birthday card. And  if you think I know where he is or that I'm going to give him up, think again. I ain't no traitor or snitch." I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. 

He closes the file and looks at me. "Has he told you anything that he's been doing since you last saw him?"

I huff in annoyance.  "What part of "I haven't seen my brother in 2 years," do you not understand, fool? Is he here?"

He sighs. "Your brother is dead. We have his body, and since you are next of kin," Ross pauses, and looks down then back at me. "You have to I.D the body."

I shook my head. "You lying. He is not dead! You're just telling me that so I'll give you some information. Well, it ain't. gonna. happen!" I slammed my hand down on the table, fist clenched. I stood up looking at the mirror I knew was a two way, then back at the table.

He slides the file in his hands over to my side of the table, open.

A picture of my brother lying on a table, eyes closed and eerily still sat in it. I slid the folder back to him, and sat down. A thousand emotions running in my head a mile a minute.

"If he really is dead," I raise my head up, fists still clenched.

"Show me."

On the other side of the mirror, Okoye and T'Challa stood watching the exchange. They wanted to see what they were dealing with, what they were potentially bringing into Wakanda.

Okoye was hesitant and truth be told, so was T'Challa to an extent. But he knew better than to judge her, 

Especially since he was no saint either.

"In all honesty, I'm not too comfortable about this." Okoye spoke in Xhosa, to keep their conversation private. She eyed the young girls movements wearily.

"My King, are you sure you don't want to leave her be-"

"Yes, I am sure." T'Challa cut her off.

 "I have considered all of our options, but this one is pretty clear. My father made the mistake of leaving Erik behind and he almost destroyed us. However, he was a monster of our own making that we could have prevented. Just like her brother, she is one of circumstance. She is not responsible for her brother's actions and it is wrong to judge her because of him." He turns to Okoye, who nodded in understanding.

"I refuse to make the same mistakes twice." T'Challa looks back at the girl.  

"Does the council know? Or even your mother?" Okoye looks at him, eyebrow raised.

"No. I knew they would not approve. They will, eventually, but time is of the essence."

"The way I see it," He continues. "We do what we didn't with Erik. We'll bring her to Wakanda. We tell her about her everything, in due time of course, and then we let her make her choice.  We owe that much to her." He sighs, uncrossing his arms.

“After all, she is family.”

[harrelltut]

卍 JEHOVAH Occult Witness Me [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] on Egyptian [JE = JESUS] HARRELLTV® since I Naturally cause So MUCH UPROAR [MU] on Earth [ME = U.S. Michael Harrell = TUT = JAH] as Nubian Archangel [NA = NĀGA] SATAN in Astronomical [SA = SATURN] HEAVEN like when iTUT® Type My HIGHLY Complex Cosmic Algorithmic [CA] Computation [Compton] Airwave [CA] COMMANDMENTS on My HIGHLY Sophisticated Urban Nubian [SUN] Compu_TAH [PTAH] of Intricate Binaural Memory [IBM] Data Codes [D.C.] 卍

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 8x11: “LARP and the Real Girl”

THEN: Charlie Bradbury. Things with Sam and Amelia officially end. Things between Dean and Benny officially end. The brothers choose each other.

The tree of pain thing.

RIP first victim. Drawn and quartered.

“China Grove” by the Doobie Brothers.

Ah, it’s been weeks.

“I know what you gave up wasn't easy.” What you gave up wasn’t easy either, Dean.

Garth! Sending them another case.

“Yeah, you’ve been Garthed.” hahaha

“Okay, we got to lose the GPS on our phones, because Garth has been tracking us, and other hunters, apparently, to assign cases.”

That’s what Bobby would do. Dean even said so.

Special Agents Taggart and Rosewood.

“FBI? You guys are quick. Haven't even got the body out yet.”

“Well, the FBI is all work…no play.”

Huh, is Dean going off of Sam’s recent attitude?

“Uh, neighbor downstairs said she got woke up in the middle of the night by the sound of horses stomping their feet and galloping. We didn't find any hoof prints. She probably heard a TV or was having a bad dream or she was high as balls.” I love this Sheriff.

haha

Lance Jacobsen.

“We want to know about the, uh – the texts you sent Ed last night.”

“I told them when they brought me in those texts weren't from me.”

“Well, your phone and Ed's phone say otherwise.”

“No, I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me.”

That cleared it up.

Greyfox the Mystic (Lance), Thargim the Mystical (Ed), and Moondoor.

“Oh, ye Gods! Thargrim the Difficult has fallen!” He is not taking Ed’s death well.

"Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game."

“And I thought we needed to get out more.”

Technically, they are getting out.

Dean’s right, Moondoor does look awesome.

There’s our Queen of Moons.

The tree.

OH JESUS WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HIM

RIP Lance Jacobsen. Greyfox the Mystic has fallen.

“God forbid he was contagious. I'm gonna go dip myself in hand sanitizer.” Not a bad idea at all.

Moondoor looks amazing.

“Excuse me. Hi. Uh, you are a LARPer, yeah?”

“I prefer the term ‘interactive literaturist’.”

“These aren’t fake badges.”

“Uh, yeah, they are, and they're...very good, but, um, well, the I.D. number shifted to 10 digits with, uh, two letters mixed in at the end of the year, and, uh, the seal's from last month. Really good work.”  

Ha, exposed. I’m sure they stopped by Kinko’s after this.

The shot of Charlie taking off her helmet always makes my heart flutter.

Charlie is pissed.

“No, I buried myself. Then Dick Roman went down, his company belly-up, and I figure, ‘Hey, it's all good,’ and I was fine. I got my life back. Now you're here, and if you guys are here, monsters are here. Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken... or dying.” 

“Greyfox and Thargrim – uh, Ed and Lance – they're not missing. They're dead.”

Charlie’s army has had a string of bad luck. “ A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there's any connection there?”

“You know, if you, uh... move your archers back and your broadswordsmen to the west...”

“Huh. Fight the warriors.”

“Yep.”

!!

“My point, which is usually yours, is that she should get somewhere safe and get back to a normal life.” Oof, never noticed Dean telling Sam that it’s usually Sam’s thing to want people to have a safe, normal life.

“Hey, I am right here, and I want to leave.”

“Thank you.”

“But the queen...she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying. That can't happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here. I'm gonna stay and fight for it.”

I love you, Charlie.

Dean and Charlie: “The pornstar?”

“...the poison.”

LMAO

DEAN’S SO EXCITED TO LARP!

“Beware: this is a gateway to the future.”

Maria...aka Gholandria the Wicked.

You look so good Dean!

“You sent Sam a phantom text from his ex? Dick move, sir.”

“Yeah, not my finest hour.”

“So he found some normalcy with this chick, and now it's gone... again. Thanks to you.”

Uh, Sam did choose to not stay with Amelia.

“Yeah, well, now he's more committed than ever, so there's that. But, trust me, this life – you can't afford attachments. You just got to... let go.”

“Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?”

Charlie kknneewww.

“Now, wait a second. If it wasn't for you, we would have never been able to take down Dick Roman. Out there in the real world, you are a hero.”

What a sweet interaction between Charlie and Dean.

“I'm noticing a lot of these maidens checking you out.”

“What? I can’t shut this down. It’s good to be queen.”

I mean it, Charlie is self esteem goals.

Sam’s got himself a research partner.

“I haven't seen anything like it in my travels throughout the realms, your highness.”

“All right. Well, if you think of anything, come see me in my tent. Anytime.”

OOHHH CHARLIE’S PICKING UP CHICKS. GET IT!!

The Tree of Pain.

Dean even threatens people with fake weapons. 

“First time for everything, right?”

“First time for a lot of things if you want to come find my tent later.”

OH, Sam got himself a date.

“Another time.” Awww no.

Your loss.” I’d say so too.

Charlie’s sent back to safety to find Sam.

“Lead the way to the Orcs, Bolty.”

“Speak when spoken to, handmaiden.”

Uh, r u d e.

Oh boy. Charlie’s been taken.

“Our, uh, pal Boltar the chatty is getting the, uh, Shadow Orc prisoner. We're gonna do a little prisoner exchange, try to draw the king out of hiding. It was my idea.” No it wasn’t, omg.

“I’m just an I.T girl...standing in front of a monster...asking it not to kill her.”

“I just want my old life back!”

“That is all I want, as well.”

Ooh, pretty fairy.

“Now, before we exchange, a few announcements. Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don't want to freak out the mundanes, so we got to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field.”  pfft.

“All right. I need real answers. This here is a real gun, see?” Dean, please.

Sam barely flinched, haha.

“Is the queen really in danger?”

“Okay, we got – there was something odd down by the creek. It's this weird tent. It's not one of ours. It's kind of creepy.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?”

“Look, I harbor an epic crush on the queen. Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her.”

Yeah, that ain’t gonna work out.

“My name is Gilda. I'm from the Hollow Forest of Arkhmoor. I'm a fairy.”

“Man, someone is taking this game way too seriously.” Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.

“Gilda, my name is Charlie Bradbury, and I am here to rescue you.” Hmm, swoon.

“Why don't you take off, Bolty? We got it from here.”

“A handmaiden and a time traveler rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady.”

Screw off, dude.

Get it!!!!

Boltar. You evil little bastard.

“Well, now what, Gerry?“

“My name is Boltar the Furious!”

Oh, he’s furious all right.

“My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the queen that I should be her king.” EW COME ON.

“But then you two idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from Orcs, become king, kill you both – that'll work, too.” Oh yeah, kill her friends. That’ll make her like you.

Charlie destroys the book, Horcrux style.

WHAT A MOVE.

“I'm free of the spell. You saved me. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.”

So he gets to go to Fairy jail?

“Call me...maybe?”

“Smell you later, bitches.” 

“So, what's, uh... what's next? 'Cause no fun, right? Look, before you say anything, I – I – I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up. You just, uh... you need time, right?” AWW Dean. 

“Yeah. Thanks. And you're right. Having fun won't help me. It'll help both of us. Shall we?” AWWW SAM.

WOW DEAN REALLY WENT ALL OUT

AND SAM AND HIS LITTLE PONY TAIL.

"This episode is dedicated to the men, women, elves, demigods, magi, druids and chamber pot servants who gave their lives fighting and winning for the Queen of Moons in the Battle of the Kingdoms. Go bravely into the next world, fallen soldiers."

I love this episode.

[wazafam]

Although American Dad! was initially conceived as a soft political satire about CIA agent Stan Smith’s staunchly conservative political views clashing with the liberal ideologies of his daughter Hayley, the show’s clear breakout character is Roger, the alien from Area 51 who hides out in the Smiths’ attic.

RELATED: American Dad!: 5 Reasons Roger Is The Show's Best Character (And His 5 Closest Contenders)

In the early seasons, Roger was just a sensitive soul who sat around the house, but he’s since devolved into a reprehensible sociopath who can leave the house and enter any social situation by seamlessly embodying one of his various disguises. Naturally, Roger is responsible for some of the most hilarious lines on the show.

9 “It’s 67 Degrees Outside And I Hate You.”

Klaus’ original role on American Dad! was pining after Francine, but after Family Guy’s Brian, the MacFarlane-verse didn’t need yet another family pet in love with the mother. So, the fish has since evolved into the show’s whipping post like Meg.

In one particularly brutal scene, Roger tells the fish, “You can’t participate, Klaus. I hate you. I say that, not out of anger, but simply as a fact. It’s 67 degrees outside and I hate you.”

8 “She Is Gonna Get The Best Bottle Of Wine Of Her Stupid B**** Life.”

When Francine gets a hold of a couple of steaks, she invites Roger to share them with her. He tells her to hold off on cooking the steaks until he can find the perfect bottle of wine to pair with them, which he ends up having to steal from Greg and Terry.

After being tasked with selecting a wine for the dinner, Roger says, “Oh, you b*tch, you didn’t. Stupid, stupid b*tch doesn’t even know. She is gonna get the best bottle of wine of her stupid b*tch life.” Francine ends up grabbing the wine in plain sight when Roger’s elaborate plan fails, then Roger eliminates Francine so he can eat both steaks, which was apparently his plan all along.

7 “Screw You, I’m Kevin Bacon!”

In one of Roger’s most memorable storylines, he’s insulted about his lack of a nose and orders a prosthetic Kevin Bacon nose from the internet. When he’s mistaken for Bacon himself, he immediately starts milking his newfound fame for free stuff.

RELATED: American Dad!: 10 Episodes That'll Never Get Old

When Steve calls him out at a restaurant, Roger drunkenly says, “Oh, excuse me, are you an ethicist? Are you? Is there an ethicist in the house?” Another restaurant patron says, “I’m an ethicist,” and Roger snaps, “Well, screw you, I’m Kevin Bacon!”

6 “Well, It Began Like That, And Then Middle, Middle, Middle, And Then I Sold Her To A Drug Dealer.”

When Stan wants to schmooze with a local Senator to get a cushier position at the CIA, he gets Roger to pose as one of the Senator’s daughter’s classmates and become friends with her. She and Roger turn out to have a shared interest: “cocaine and stuff.”

After a long bender, Roger ends up selling the girl to a drug dealer to pay off his debts. He tells the story to Stan way too casually: “Well, it began like that, and then middle, middle, middle, and then I sold her to a drug dealer. The end.”

5 “KEVIIIN RAMAAAGE!!!”

Steve and Hayley start up a successful fake I.D. business while Stan cluelessly pursues them in “Faking Bad.” Their closest rival in the fake I.D. game is Kevin Ramage, one of Roger’s personas.

When Stan’s investigation leads him straight to Steve and Roger, Roger jumps in Jeff’s van and crashes it through the wall. He yells out, “KEVIIIN RAMAAAGE!!!” This moment is so unexpected, and what seems to be Kevin’s first triumphant act of heroism turns out to be hilariously anticlimactic as he drives the van straight into the ocean.

4 “Are You Really Asking That To The Guy Who Just Last Week Killed Six People Over $19?”

One of Roger’s many dream jobs is limo driver. So, he buys a limo and picks up a bunch of frat boys to drive around town. After trashing the car, they leave without paying Roger’s $20 driver’s fee. He promptly speeds toward one of the frat kids and runs him over with the limo.

Klaus says, “Dude, you killed him!” Roger says, “One down, four to go.” Klaus asks, “You’re really gonna kill five people over $20?” to which Roger pricelessly replies, “Are you really asking that to the guy who just last week killed six people over $19?”

3 “I Don’t Remember Doing Ether. But Then Again, That’s Ether’s Signature Move.”

After a near-death experience in the episode “The Shrink,” Stan becomes so terrified by the unpredictability of real life that he creates his own miniature world and shrinks himself down to live there.

RELATED: American Dad!: The 10 Darkest Episodes, Ranked

When Roger finds the shrunken Stan, he says, “A bug-sized Stan? And yet I don’t remember doing ether. But then again, that’s ether’s signature move.” At the end of the episode, when Roger finally realizes the Smiths are all shrunken down in the miniature town, he eats them instead of saving them.

2 “So, Have You Heard Anything? Is Chaz Gonna Be Okay?”

After cowering away during a mugging, Roger joins the police academy in “Cops & Roger.” He passes with flying colors and becomes a cop. But within a couple of hours on the force, he’s already become crooked. He works with a dirty cop named Chaz, played by guest star Bobby Cannavale.

When Chaz threatens to kill Stan and Roger, Roger drops down on him from above, elbow-first, and destroys his entire head in gruesome fashion. Later, Roger asks Stan, “So, have you heard anything? Is Chaz gonna be okay?” An incredulous Stan simply says, “No.”

1 “Francine, I Haven’t Been Entirely Truthful With You.”

While Stan is fighting a hex in the A-plot of “Old Stan in the Mountain,” Roger and Francine’s unforgettable B-plot steals the show. They drive to a dance contest, which turns out to be a funeral, which turns out to be setting the stage for a grave-robbing.

Every time Roger reveals his true intentions (or so it seems) to his travel companion, he says, “Francine, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.” This line gets funnier every time he says it. Just when it seems like he’s finally told Francine everything, he reveals something else.

NEXT: American Dad: Roger's 10 Wildest Costumes, Ranked

American Dad: Roger's Funniest Quotes, Ranked | ScreenRant from https://ift.tt/3uaHW8P

[littlelovelymemes]

✰ * º ❛ more popular text posts starters. ❜

‘  plot twist: you let someone in and they don’t fuck you over  ’ ‘  you would not believe bill nye... if ten million Science Guys  ’ ‘  the lack of cuddling i am experiencing right now is upsetting  ’ ‘  why was shrek’s soundtrack so incredible like who sat down and decided that a movie about an ogre would have a beautiful rufus wainwright ballad followed by a smash mouth/eddie murphy cover of i’m a believer and how can i thank them  ’ ‘  i justify my impulses by the fact i’m going to be dead one day and none of it truly matters in the grant scheme of things it’s that “treat yo self” nihilism  ’ ‘  all i do is listen to music really loudly while i walk in circles and daydream :/  ’ ‘  but you are an entire universe and i am a bigger cooler universe where everyone skateboards  ’ ‘  my insecurities have destroyed so many opportunities   ’ ‘  maybe you and i exist together on a different wavelength than the rest of the world. perhaps, we are on a separate frequency.  ’ ‘  will u still love me when im no longer young and ok looking  ’ ‘  ʸᵉᵃʰᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘʰʰʰʰʰʰ some fuckin physical affection  ’ ‘  stop thinking about everything so much, you’re breaking your own heart.  ’ ‘  concept: me traveling the world alone, figuring myself out, taking tons of cute aesthetic pictures, befriending kind strangers, drinking a cup of tea on a cute cafeteria, and trying out things for the first time.  ’ ‘  holy shit thank god vine is gone like can you imagine all the vines about fidget spinners  ’ ‘  me: reads the bad reviews of a book i didn’t like to seek validation  ’ ‘  if you think you’ve hit rock bottom, just remember that my bank once froze my accounts because I bought a healthy ready meal at my local supermarket and they classed it an “uncharacteristic purchase”  ’ ‘  i’m a dumbass and that’s just how it is  ’ ‘  y'all actually seek validation from people that don’t give a fuck about ur feelings??? LMAO bitch me too why are we like this  ’ ‘  special thanks to all the 10 year olds out there for making all those music lyric videos on youtube  ’ ‘  i am so gentle and kind hearted... and stupid  ’ ‘  there she goes again being over dramatic and by she i mean me  ’ ‘  just letting everyone who’s ever told me a secret know that its safe with me (and my mom)  ’ ‘  me n my eyebrows…………we been thru a lot  ’ ‘  i wanna jump off a building and not die just relieve stress by slamming onto the sidewalk and then get up and go get a slurpee or something  ’ ‘  all I want is vintage lingerie and good skin  ’ ‘  nsfw: nobody’s safe from wonderwall  ’ ‘  do you ever wish you could unmeet someone…. like,, we had fun times,, but it’s time for me to wipe my memory Sorry Bud  ’ ‘  date a boy who reads. or better yet date a 37 year old recent divorcee with a highly diversified stock portfolio who’s looking to feel young again and can treat you to what you deserve  ’ ‘  if you knew me in 7th grade i’m sorry  ’ ‘  *cha cha’s real smooth away from academic responsibilities*  ’ ‘  anyone else feel like they’re inherently worth less than everyone else  ’ ‘  be open with your love and loud with your laughter. life is so much brighter when lived genuinely.  ’ ‘  i really wish i could get a refund for all the love i’ve wasted on people like! repay my emotional labour your bill is in the mail  ’ ‘  i’m such a tease. i’ll tell you how bad I want to fuck you and then probably fall asleep.  ’ ‘  i’m crying my best  ’ ‘  i want to be known as someone who’s full of love and radiates light  ’ ‘  i’m in philosophy and were talking about how you can doubt everything’s existence except for your own consciousness and the guy that sits in front of me just turns around tears streaming down his face and goes “i am on so many drugs”  ’ ‘  how fucked up would it be if an astronaut was coming back to earth and everybody hid for a bit  ’ ‘  some kid just skateboarded down my street crying  ’ ‘  do you ever get in an “i don’t know” phase in your life. where you literally don’t have a solid answer to anything. you. just. don’t. know.  ’ ‘  which of the three pillars of modern music is your favourite, burnin’ up by the jonas brothers, beautiful soul by jesse mccartney or lucky by britney spears  ’ ‘  i guess at this point i should just consider dating myself  ’ ‘  there is no doubt in my mind i’m really that bitch  ’ ‘  after you hit 21, you start forgetting your age cause ain’t nothing else to look forward to, besides sweet death.  ’ ‘  why am i not currently in the italian countryside with a fruit plate wearing a light linen dress? unacceptable  ’ ‘  hands are weird because one of them can do absolutely everything without a problem and the other one can’t even hold a spoon  ’ ‘  remember to drink a fucking shit ton of water every miserable day of ur life  ’ ‘  is he………you know…….*makes football throwing motion*….straight?  ’ ‘  mATH, deATH -- wake up america  ’ ‘  does anyone else have a resting bitch face™, but kinda enjoys looking intimidating  ’ ‘  time flies when u take a 2hr depression nap in the middle of the day  ’ ‘  roses are red, i’m going to bed  ’ ‘  u know when ur hairs greasy and it makes u feel so so so bad about urself. and ur entire life. everything is awful bc my hair is greasy  ’ ‘  i’m just so glad the word “ugh” was invented  ’ ‘  just another day of loving with all my heart and believing in the universe  ’ ‘  you know when dogs sit outside with their face turned towards the sun and their eyes closed and they look so relaxed and when you pet them they’re warm? that’s how I want to feel always  ’ ‘  come into bed and listen to the rain with me  ’ ‘  people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel,   ’ ‘  can someone please be proud of me like fuck i’m trying  ’ ‘  concept: a really nice Italian restaurant but it’s spelled “spagooter” on the menu and the waiters won’t take your order unless you pronounce it like that  ’ ‘  just found out neanderthal passed on the dna for depression and now we know why they stayed in caves and painted horses all fuckin day   ’ ‘  i want kids but i’m scared they’ll blame me if they’re ugly  ’ ‘  does anyone have any tips for not thinking about it  ’ ‘  “what’s a queen without her king?” well, historically, better  ’ ‘  i want something that doesn’t taste like alcohol but has a lot of alcohol in it  ’ ‘  my kink is getting some fuckin sleep  ’ ‘  i’m alive out of spite  ’ ‘  not to vent but: fuck  ’ ‘  i think i accidentally break my own heart a lot  ’ ‘  can’t wait to be balls deep in love  ’ ‘  why are there so many days?? i feel like we just had a whole day yesterday… they don’t stop  ’ ‘  i walked in on my 4 year old nephew sitting alone on his bed eating grapes in the dark and i didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he said “i don’t have answers”  ’ ‘  *adjusts my tinfoil hat* y’all are crazy  ’ ‘  do raccoons have people hands or do we have raccoon hands?  ’ ‘  mark your territory by crying on things  ’ ‘  any size titty is lit  ’ ‘  love lemon trees! i too am bitter but growing  ’ ‘  my only constant is the black hair tie around my wrist. no mans gonna be there for me like this hair tie has. no ones presence is gonna be as reassuring  ’ ‘  me???? tired???? sleepy??? yes constantly  ’ ‘  the box says “four servings” but my heart says one  ’ ‘  the lengths i would go to to both get attention and avoid it….astounding  ’ ‘  i hope everybody is doing their best even tho we’re all doomed  ’ ‘  young adult things: washing your colors with your whites because you don’t care you JUST don’t fucking care  ’ ‘  I just want to help out all the people with no money but i am people with no money  ’ ‘  bricks are just domesticated rocks  ’ ‘  being nice is so easy just do it  ’ ‘  lets start wearing cloaks and swords again. its time  ’ ‘  classes are like a high level dora the explorer episode. person up front asks a question, stares at you blankly for a few seconds, and then answers their own question.  ’ ‘  the average orgasm is 7 seconds. keeping a feral hog in your basement lasts for 5-16 years depending on your ability to care for it. the decision should be clear  ’ ‘  will i ever have my shit together  ’ ‘  i live in a time where a major selling point for food is that it uses “real” ingredients.  ’ ‘  “what the fuck” is an emotion now and its the only one i have  ’ ‘  it’s not a real party until you sneak away to the bathroom to question your existence as you stare at yourself in the mirror haha  ’ ‘  every hard day you make it through makes you one day closer to stranger things season 2  ’ ‘  assert your dominance by calling your friends by their student i.d. number  ’ ‘  i feel like each year has progressively gotten worse since the year of luigi ended  ’ ‘  um that’s u’re* not ur  ’ ‘  i wanna be a villain so I can just saunter everywhere. the heroes are always sprinting, always running. you ever seen darth vader run? hell no. and I ain’t about to either.  ’ ‘  i have nothing to say but will i shut up? No  ’ ‘  i cannot believe another week is like beginning we just finished one  ’

[ofvindictc]

( brett dalton, 30/49, he/him )  welcome to  san francisco, DANIEL WARREN / LEVI STONE / FAMINE.  rumor has it they are a HYBRID, but only they could tell you the truth! when i close my eyes, i think of them and imagine BLOODY KNUCKLES HITTING A PUNCHING BAG, RED SKIES IN THE MORNING, AND STARING AT YOUR REFLECTION THROUGH A SPLINTERED MIRROR.

he’s from a tiny ass town outside of portland. grew up with an abusive alcoholic dad. you can imagine how that went.  he was always in trouble as a kid and getting into fights.  i feel like the cops were always at his house bc if it wasn’t him getting into trouble, it was his dad.  whenever his dad got arrested, he’d ghost and stay with friends so he wouldn’t have to get thrown into the system. he was already taking care of himself anyway, it was nothing new to be left alone for weeks at a time.  he was an angry kid; partially bc of his life, partially bc of the werewolf curse in his bloodline.  it was from his dad’s  side  but  his  dad  was  adopted  (  therefor,  his  adopted  parents  weren’t  werewolves  and  had  no  clue  about  the  supernatural  )  and  had  never  triggered  his  curse  so he had no fucking clue what fresh hell was about to be unleashed on him. 

he triggered his curse at 15. he was a youngin.  i want to say he was high, maybe wasted, and they were fucking around on the docks.  he got into a fight with his best friend about something stupid and they got fighting and his friend died;  busted his head open on the side of the dock when he went over it and into the water.  daniel was so shocked he just watched him drown and didn’t do anything.   all he remembered after was the pain, how everything was changing and he didn’t know what to do about any of it.  when he turned that first full moon, he destroyed their trailer and killed his own father.  the guy probably deserved it but that was a lot of blood on his hands.  he ended up peacing out and hitchhiking to portland.  as far as the world knew, he was a runaway.  he wasn’t a suspect in his dad’s death bc, well, it looked like an animal attack.  anyone the police questioned would confirm the truth;  daniel was always on the move, you never knew where he’d go.  with no relatives to push the envelope, he slipped between the cracks. 

it was after his second full moon, after he mauled a couple hikers, that the alpha from the portland pack found him.  he took him in, set him up with a trailer of his own, helped him figure out how to control that rage simmering under the surface.  which he did, for the most part.  he started boxing,  got a job at the gym, paid his fucking taxes.  all that normal person stuff.   he even had a girlfriend, another one of the werewolves in the pack.  she didn’t have anyone either;  her parents weren’t around, no siblings, nothing.  she was someone it was easy to be around, to be this new, calmer, version of himself.  now they still fought, that anger never went away, but he always tried to contain it.  he was happy.  he didn’t want to lose everything. 

enter klaus mikaelson.  he blows into town, promises them the world, then delivers.  for the first time he can control his shift;  he doesn’t have to.  he can be normal, can be whoever the fuck he wants to be.  except there’s rules .. obligations that they can’t shake.  suddenly they’re moving to virginia, carting around the guy’s family in coffins and providing him with security.  but he’s happy to do it...  isn’t he?  he owes the guy a debt.  he believes it too,  right until elijah mikaelson yanks his heart straight out of his chest.   he dies,  has to watch from the other side as life goes on without him.  watches as the love of his life breaks her sire bond, is murdered by klaus in an expression massacre.  they’re not reunited;  he never sees her again.  the veil falls but he has nowhere to go.  he looks for klaus and elijah,  wants his revenge, but never finds them before the other side is reinstated.   when it implodes later on,  he faces oblivion.  there’s no peace for someone with rage in their heart, revenge on their mind. 

PRE SEASON ONE

he wakes up in san francisco, thousands of miles from where his body was buried.  he’s in one piece... and he’s pissed.  he’s also hungry.   he kills the  police officer that finds him, takes his i.d and decides to assume his identity.  he changes his hair color, compels the major players in the guys life, and becomes levi stone.  as far as he’s concerned, daniel warren is dead.  he died 20 years ago, bye bitch, 

he’s got revenge on the mind and he has his plans.  right now he’s masquerading as levi stone, assuming his role as a police officer.  he also opened up his own gym, has a boxing ring and everything bc that’s how he Unwinds.  he has a lot of anger in him and he keeps it contained by channelling it into revenge fantasies and productivity.  it’s a long con but he’s waited this long... what’s a few more months? a year? 

SEASON ONE

as  phase  one  of  his  plan  to  mess  with  the  mikaelsons,  he  inserted  himself  into  henrik  mikaelson’s  life.  his  plan  was  to  make  him  love  him,  make  him  devoted,  and  then  turn  him  into  a  vampire  —  SIRE  BONDED  to  him.   then  he  would  have  pitted  henrik  against  the  family,  used  that  love  as  a  weapon  to  keep  him  loyal.   it  worked  for  six  months.  he’d  gotten  close,  he’d  wormed  his  way  into  henrik’s  heart  with  a  combination  of  acting  and  compulsion,  and  the  man  loved  him.  he  slipped  up  once  or  twice,  a  lockbox  filled  with  mementos  revealing  his  real  name,  but  he  was  able  to  compel  away  the  memory.  he  was  back  on  track.

while  impersonating  levi  stone,  out  on  patrol,  he  encountered  a  strange  fog.  there  was  a  figure  in  the  distance,  though  he  couldn’t  make  them  out,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew  there  was  a  ring  on  his  finger  and  a  voice  in  his  head.  FAMINE.   the  horseman  of  the  apocalypse  had  been  brought  back,  sensing  the  disturbance  in  the  city,  and  needed  a  powerful  body  to  host  him.  levi,  as  a  hybrid,  was  the  perfect  vessel.  they  became  symbiotic:   levi  would  feed,  drown  himself  in  crimson  rivers  to  keep  the  horseman  well  fed,  and  famine  would  help  him  with  his  revenge  plans.   famine  infected  two  of  the  mikaelsons,  made  their  hunger  threaten  to  overwhelm  them,  which  resulted  in  one  ending  up  daggered  at  the  family  estate.   his  plan  was  working.  it  was  perfect.   until  it  wasn’t. 

the  more  he  became  levi,  and  indulged  famine,  the  less  stable  daniel  warren  became.  it  was  almost  disassociative  the  way  he  looked  at  his  own  psyche,  constantly  unsure  whose  eyes  he  saw  when  he  looked  in  the  mirror.  he  also  started  hallucinating,  thinking  he  was  seeing  his  wife  around  time.   he  first  saw  her  in  a  dream  world,  the  work  of  the  sandman,  and  from  there  it  spiralled  into  a  kind  of  madness.  the  hallucinations  broke  daniel  free,  splintered  levi’s  focus  and  drive  and  started  spinning  the  revenge  plot  off-course.  he  made  a  series  of  mistakes,  let  his  guard  down,  and  henrik  got  the  drop  on  him.   the  man  had  broken  free  of  his  compulsion  and  had  a  witch  hold  him  down  so  he  couldn’t  strike  out  against  them.   HE  LOST.   henrik  vowed  that  if  he  came  after  them  again,  he’d  tell  the  whole  family  what  he’d  done:   sealing  the  warrant  for  his  death. 

in  the  final  showdown  with  henrik,  famine’s  ring  was  wrenched  from  his  finger.  he  was  experiencing  severe  separation  anxiety  from  the  horseman  and  it  worsened  his  condition.   he  was   a  shell  of  a  person  when  FINN  MIKAELSON  showed  up  on  his  doorstep.   the  man  was  wearing  famine’s  ring,  inciting  a  fury  that  burned  through  him.   he  was  no  match  for  an  original  vampire  though  and  felt  fingers  tighten  around  his  heart  —  eyes  screwing  shut  as  he  prepared  for  his  heart  to  be  wrenched  from  his  chest  again.   that  didn’t  happen  though.   finn  simply  smirked,  explained  he  was  repaying  a  debt,  and  the  ring  was  slid  back  on  his  finger.   another  warning  was  issued,  to  stay  clear  of  the  mikaelsons,  and  then  finn  was  gone  as  quickly  as  he  appeared.   FAMINE,  though  he  had  manipulated  finn  for  his  own  ends,  was  still  livid  and  vowed  revenge.   he’s  back  to  where  he  started  except  now  the  stakes  are  higher  —   HE’LL  BURN  EVERY  LAST  ONE  OF  THEM   TO  THE  GROUND.   NO  HESITATIONS.

CONNECTION IDEAS - people who are against the mikaelsons / would be good to align with in case of retaliation. - maybe someone he’s training? he owns his own boxing gym and does special supernatural fight nights for anyone interested. (2/3  taken by dylan & jo) - someone who knew the real levi stone and knows he’s not him when they see him out and about. - half sibling. they share a mom, despite being 30 years apart in age. (taken by jaime)

[korra-the-red-lion]

I am.

Here’s a fic request written for @fluxy001! I hope you enjoy it!

The pod raced through the sky, the outer shell catching fire as it crashed landed onto the island. It skidded across the sand until it made a full stop. The lapped against it gently, and a curious rat scurried over to see what was inside. The pod opened, and out stumbled a young girl. She squinted and looked around, unsure of where she had landed.

She looked inside the pod and read the location on the map. Lian Yu, it read in Kryptonian. Feeling scared and very much alone, Kara Zor-el climbed back inside of her pod to calm her beating heart. Her mother and father sent her here to survive the death of her planet. The tears streamed down her face before she even realized they were. Everyone she had ever known was gone, and she was alone. She was supposed to be looking out for her cousin, but she had gotten trapped inside the Phantom Zone for so long. The endless dark, left to wonder if she was even going to survive this trip. At least she managed to make it to earth. Now it was a matter of survival on this strange island.

Slowly but surely, Kara made her way into the heart of the island. She knew that she needed to find food and fresh water in order to survive. As she walked by, she felt a slight aching pain throughout her whole body that she didn’t quite understand. Little did she know that beneath the soil of this cursed island was kryptonite, the kind that weakened her. Little did she know that she even had special abilities due to her alien nature. All Kara knew in this moment was that she needed to make it off this island alive.

---

It took her 5 long years, but Kara finally had done it. She got off Lian Yu by creating a bonfire large enough to be seen from miles away. Her skin was shallow, her hair unkempt and ratty. But there was a hardness in her eyes, a killer’s instinct. The men who pulled their boat ashore didn’t know who this mysterious woman was, but they knew that they were saving a life today. The gladly helped her on board, and away they went.

It blew up all over the news. A mysterious woman rescued from some Chinese island. She had no I.D., no documentations to show where she was from. Police in National City were confused. Who was this person? Where did she come from? How did she get on that island? There were no missing persons reports filed anywhere in America. She simply told them her name was Kara. That was it. Nothing else.

Baffled, the police and the hospital staff did their best to help her get accustomed to living in the city. After only a day in the hospital, Kara felt good enough to leave on her own power, and that she did. The sunlight beaming down on her face gave her such a rush, one that she hadn’t felt before. Skipping happily away, Kara soon realized she could hear everything. Confused and scared, Kara looked around wildly. Then it dawned on her.

I have abilities, she thought in awe. I’m not a human. I am something more. That island…something on it must have blocked my alien powers. I need to find Kal-el, he may know what is going on.

Determined to understand this new power, Kara went to find her missing cousin.

Kal-el, or Clark Kent as he was known as on Earth, was much older than her due to her time in the Phantom Zone. Although he was shocked to know another Kryptonian survived, he was more than happy to help out family. Once Kara learned and understood her abilities better, she got to work.

On the island, she got into trouble. A lot of trouble. She carried scars from her time on the cursed place and gained a name for herself from her enemies. The Arrow. She learned from an older man named Yao Fei. He taught her how to use a simple bow and arrow to survive. He taught her everything she needed to know before he was brutally murdered by Fyers. Kara saw to it quickly that Fyers suffered a much more painful death at her hands. She promised that when she got to civilization, she would purge the cities of evil and darkness. During the day, she was Kara Danvers, a woman who was just trying to get by after suffering through a horrendous ordeal. But at night, she became someone else, something else. She became the boogieman of the night. She became the Arrow.

---

After years of combating the worse this city had to offer, Kara was beginning to feel a sense of peace. She made friends, met wonderful people from all walks of life, and had a great job. It was starting to feel like she could finally relax and come to terms with what had happened to her.

Until the red light filled the sky.

Kara didn’t understand what was going on; but it seemed like no one did. She was sitting on the rooftop of her apartment building late at night, when Clark touched down beside her softly.

“Kara,” he said with tightness in his voice, “I need to talk with you.”

She looked away from the red sky to look at him. “What is it?”

Clark sat down next to her. “Something is coming, and I’m afraid I’m not going to make it.” He raised his hand to stop her from interjecting. “Kara, please listen. Lex Luthor is planning on killing me. Whatever is happening with the sky may be his fault, I don’t know. But I do know this. The world needs a superhero like you. One who isn’t afraid to make the tough choices when the need arises. I need you to go and find someone who can help us. Help us all.”

The words hung heavy in the air. Finally, Kara nodded. “Okay, what do you need me to do, Clark?”

He smiled sadly before reaching into his pocket. “Barry Allen built this. Please don’t ask me to explain it, because I don’t really get it. It should take you to Earth-1, where you should be able to find help.”

Kara nodded again as she took the strange device from her cousin. Looking back on it now, she wondered if she ever showed Kal how much he meant to her. She opened her mouth to say something to him, when they both noticed a strange looking cloud engulfing the city.

Realizing with utter horror what was happening, Clark stood up and spared Kara one last sad look. “I love you, Kara. Do what needs to be done.” And then he was gone, trying his hardest to stop the anti-matter wave from eradicating the city. Kara knew there was nothing he could do, nothing at all. Even Superman wasn’t strong enough to fight this enemy.

She pressed the button in the middle of the doo-hicky and jumped through the portal that appear. A second later, and her earth was gone.

---

Oliver watched the sky with overwhelming anxiety. This day was always going to come, according to Barry. But after the birth of his daughter and not knowing how his son was doing, Oliver couldn’t help but feel like this was completely unfair. He had saved this city multiple times, yet never truly asked for anything in return. Why did he have to die? Why now? When he was finally ready to settle down with Felicity? He punched the wall, the pain not even registering with him anymore.

“Oliver, are you okay, man?” Diggle asked him, looking up from the tablet.

“Yeah, sorry,” said Oliver. “I guess I’m just feeling a little tense about this whole situation. I hate not being in control.”

Diggle nodded thoughtfully. “This is definitely bigger than I ever thought I’d get myself into.”

Before Oliver could answer, his comms buzzed to life. Hey guys. I think you should come to the bunker. There’s someone here…from another Earth.

Looking at each other, Oliver responded that they were on the way as he and Diggle walked out the door.

After a short while, Oliver bounded down the stairs as he usually did. He stopped at the bottom step when he saw the woman wearing the green hood. It took a second for him to register that it wasn’t Mia from the future, but in fact Kara wearing the Green Arrow costume.

She looked over at him, putting down the arrow she was admiring. “This is a nice place you have here,” she commented mildly.

Oliver glanced over at Felicity and Laurel, whom both shrugged. Breathing heavily through his nose, he nodded. “Thank you. I take it you’re from another Earth. Is that correct?”

“Yes,” she said. Kara looked off into the distance, as if she was watching her Earth get destroyed all over again. “My cousin Clark told me to come and find help for our Earth…for all the Earth being destroyed by this.”

Laurel bowed her head, understanding the pain of losing everything. She wasn’t sure how to articulate that into meaningful words, so instead she placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of Kara and gave a stiff nod. Kara nodded back, seeing the pain all over the face of the other woman.

Kara looked to Oliver once again. “Are you able to help? No offense, but I can’t see how a regular human is going to do much.”

Younger Oliver may have been offended by that comment, but now he just let it brush off him. “I really hope so. We’re gathering a team of the best heroes this Earth has to offer,” he explained, “it’s our best shot at stopping this all and reversing the damage that has been inflicted on countless lives. I don’t know what else I can tell you, if I’m being honest. None of us as ever gone up against a threat like this before.”

“So, hope may be lost?” Kara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Clark, James, Winn, Cat, Lena, Alex, Nia…they could all be lost forever and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Please, don’t give up on us just yet,” said Felicity. She hugged herself tightly. “We’re trying our best to stop the unstoppable. I know right now everything seems hopeless, but I’ve seen Oliver get himself out of tight situation after tight situation. If anyone can see this through to the end, it’s him and the others.”

Oliver felt his heart swell at the words of his wife. The fact that she trusted him to see this through meant the world to him. Closing his eyes to keep the tears from appearing, he crossed his arms and looked at Kara. “I know I’m just a human. But I believe in the team to stop this, and to restore everything that was lost. I promise with my dying breath that I will fix everything. Your Earth will be restored.”

Kara looked into those deep blue eyes and knew that he was telling the truth. For whatever reason, she felt like she could believe in him. Believe in a team that she had never met before. Cocking her head to one side, she asked, “what is your name?”

“I’m Oliver Queen, and I am the Green Arrow.”

---

As she looked back on it now, Kara wondered if that man had died a painless death. His sacrifice brought back the worlds. She stood on top of the roof of Cat Co., watching the cars pass by, not realizing that they had all be erased not too long ago. She too had been erased, but her memories had been restored by the Green Martian.

Now, when people asked her what her name was, she simply answered as he once did.

“I am the Green Arrow.”