#anyway turns out she also lied about [redacted] so if she doesn’t just quit she’s probably going to get dismissed for academic misconduct

[recombinatrix]

Went to a workshop on how to write the literature rescue for my thesis and now my stress levels are through the roof. I already feel so behind.

We had a useless year phd student who has done, as far as I can tell, absolutely nothing for the last two years while also constantly increasing my workload by skipping out on her own admin commitments and dealing group meetings. As a result I’ve had to spend the last two months (where I should have been at home recording from covid) at work doing including and training for four new masters students and one new PhD student because it turns out she literally does not know anything about our field. She could not show an undergrad first year how to use our software to do an entry level task. She cannot answer questions like “what are you studying and how are you studying it?”

I’m very tired and I feel extremely behind because I’ve been doing this shit instead of my PhD, and I’m only just now starting to figure out exactly how much I should have already been doing.

I hate her and I’m so fucking glad she quit. Enjoy failing your second year milestone because you decided to spend two years fucking around and ignoring every single piece of actionable feedback we gave you.

[another-cancer]

Chapter Eight: What's a period?

First Previous Next

Masterlist ao3 

Summary:

Trouble is brewing back at the order as Marinette learns some awkward information in Gotham.

Notes:

Back from hiatus!

Welcome back friends, with a revised outline I can finally confirm the story to be sixteen chapters! This story has grown a lot from the original Maribat march outline that started it all. Thanks for joining me as we continue this journey.

Updates will be back to the regularly scheduled Tuesdays.

This can also be found on AO3 @another_cancer and Wattpad @another_cAnCeR

Enjoy!

///

Stealing was almost second nature to Marinette. After leaving the order, burglary became her way to survive. With her skill set, it was easy. After all, all, once you kill people to survive there isn’t much that is considered challenging within the realm of crime. It was an outlet for the violent side she developed with the order. One that didn’t cause any real harm. She stole from the rich. They weren’t missing any of it anyway, and half the time that didn’t even notice.

She typically pawned the items off to the strangest people and never to the same one. While she may be dead as Ladybug, Marinette has contacts all over the world. Under false names of course. She was extremely paranoid. The girl could rival Batman in paranoia.

On one particular heist, she had a run-in with another thief. However, she wasn’t quite concerned about her surprise partner when Catwoman was standing in front of her.

“Hello,” Catwoman said with curiosity.

Marinette just stared.

“Quiet, huh, well either way that bag looks pretty full, hope you won’t mind if I take from this place too.”

Catwomen took jewels, that was a lot more noticeable than the stuff Marinette took. It would leave a trail. A trail Marinette didn’t need to be connected to her.

“Please don’t take anything noticeable,” Marinette mumbled.

“What was that kitten?”

She repeated slightly louder, “Please don’t take anything noticeable.”

“But what would be the point of stealing unless to piss off the rich people who live here?” Catwoman asked with a grin, “Unless you’re taking for your own personal gain.”

Mental note: Catwoman didn’t like people stealing for their own gain. Marinette wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I have kids relying on me, I can’t let this shit trace back to me,” Marinette carefully explained.

Catwoman examined Marinette. Truly taking the girl in by slowly scanning her body. She noticed the slightly raggy clothing she wore. Marinette didn’t wear a mask which made her look like a bit of an amateur to Catwoman. However, when the woman arrived at the house earlier no alarms had been triggered suggesting the girl did a good job sneaking into the house. It was risky, the girl clearly wasn’t new to this.

“You live on the streets,” Catwoman said.

It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement.

She continued, “You’ve stolen before. And you aren’t native to Gotham.”

All statements.

“Correct,” Marinette simply offered in return.

“Fine, let's get out of here and you can explain more to me,” Catwoman said as she headed the way she entered.

Marinette followed. She wasn’t quite sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. On the other hand, Marinette was confused by the fact the notorious thief ended up taking nothing, had the woman really been so easily convinced by her.

///

B a c k i n T i b e t

“Masters,” a teenager greeted as they were welcomed into the elders' chamber.

“[REDACTED] you have been called upon by the gods, we hope you will accept the honor and visit them. They will give you a mission that you shall complete.”

Once again the unspoken words being: if you don’t do it you die.

“Thank you, I will visit them immediately.”

No one was ever called upon by the gods. At least no one is normal. In [REDACTED]’s lifetime, they could only remember one person who ever got the chance to meet them. Ladybug. And now Ladybug is dead. [REDACTED] assumed they were becoming the new golden child. Oh, how wrong could they ever be.

///

B a c k to G o t h a m

They were in a warehouse, mostly abandoned. It would be a good place to kill someone. But Catwoman wasn’t going to kill her and Marinette gave up that lifestyle a long time ago. In conclusion, no one was going to be killed, but Marinette’s paranoid brain kept reminding her this would be a good place to kill someone.

“How long have you been stealing?” Catwoman asked seemingly out of nowhere.

Against her better judgment, Marinette replied, “When I was nine.”

“You’re a runaway.”

“Technically an orphan, but runaway also works.”

“You're not even from around here, god the whole system is broken if kids not from Gotham are running away to Gotham,” Catwoman muttered.

“I’m not a kid,” Marinette corrected.

“You look ten, you’re a kid, who is looking after other kids, god that makes it so much worse.”

“I’m sixteen,” Marinette lied, she wasn’t going to give the woman her actual age.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, you’ve barely hit puberty, kid have you even gotten your period yet?”

“My what?”

Shit. She did not mean to ask that out loud.

Catwoman didn’t expect that. Fuck how was she supposed to explain puberty and periods to this girl?

She decided bluntly, “It’s when you bleed from your vagina.”

“That’s natural? I thought-”

It had never been explained to Marinette in the past. She thought something was wrong with her, but then it stopped. It had only happened twice so far, and the bleeding was always fairly light.

“Kid I think it’s time you had a talk.”

Catwoman gave a basic rundown on periods and puberty, she even pulled out some pads and tampons she had stored in the warehouse. By the end, Marinette had a bag filled with period products and a new talk to give some of the street kids.

“I never caught your name,” Catwoman said.

What the hell she had already told the vigilantes mine as well tell the rogues too. It’s not like they would be able to find anything on someone who doesn’t exist.

“Marinette.”

“You’re a good thief Marinette,” she complimented.

“Thank you.”

“I’ve been considering taking in an apprentice lately, you know, try and imitate the bat a bit. And you're the girl who keeps picking fights with Scarecrow right?”

How the hell did she know that. Never mind, it didn’t matter, Marinette had to turn down the offer anyway. She worked alone and wasn’t interested in being a sidekick.

“I won’t be your sidekick, I have things of my own to worry about.”

“Aw too bad, I was really hoping you’d say yes, show that Bat he’s not the only one who can have a bunch of kids following him around, but I get it you gotta keep yourself safe and those kids you said you look after. Good luck!”

And with that, she was sent on her way. What a strange day.

///

B a c k i n T i b e t a g a i n

“Tikki, are you sure about this?” Trixx asked.

“I am sure,” they replied, hushing the other god, “Lila Rossi please approach.”

The teenager kneeled.

“Lila Rossi, you have been called in front of the god due to your mastering of illusions. My chosen Ladybug has managed to gain balance in her soul. Ladybug now holds destruction that rivals creation. You will retrieve her from Gotham City and return with her alive. Do what it takes as long as she lives.”

Lila was stunned.

“But Ladybug is dead.”

“You humans are fools, she never died, I allowed her to roam without informing anyone to see if any of you incompetent fools would notice. However, she has gotten too powerful recently,” Tikki explained.

“I understand,” she stuttered.

Trixx moved to the front of the room, “From this day on you will leave behind the name Lila, and you will become Volpina.”

There was a bright light and then darkness. Volpina was outside the chamber.

“Lila,” an elder started.

“Volpina.”

There was an understanding, the elders bowed down to her, and Volpina’s mission started.

///

“I really don’t like this sugar cube.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my chosen, Plagg,” Tikki sniped back.

///

Notes:

Next week: Marinette has a couple of stalkers and a backstory that goes further back than she remembers.

[ask-sakky-bear]

Journal Entry #2: Ghosts

The second installment for my podcast idea - this is a much longer read!

Also, I don’t recall if I mentioned this in my first post about it, but this is set in a Naruto Alternate Universe - modern setting, no ninjas, but supernatural things exist. That sort of things.

[Sooo, I lied, it’s 4:39 in the morning and I can’t sleep, so might as well do something useful. Without further ado:

Date: July 15th..er, 16th, 2015

Time: now 4:40 am

Subject: Ghosts.

I figured the best way to approach this was to start with the subject I know most about. Or, have had the most experience with, at least. I guess we should start with what a ghost actually is.

According to a quick internet search, a ghost, as it is commonly thought of has...surprisingly many definitions. That definition seems to include the concept of a disembodied spirit. Merriam-Webster, the world’s leading authority on all things needing to be defined, lists seven definitions for the noun “ghost” - only four of them I believe are actually relevant to this discussion:

 The seat of life or intelligence - the soul;

Spirit or demon;

A disembodied soul: especially, the soul of a dead person believed to be an inhabitant of the “unseen world”, who appears to the living in bodily likeness; and

A faint, shadowy trace

Now, I also looked at a few other online and physical definitions, so no one can accuse me of not being thorough here, and they all say much the same thing. The soul of a dead person, a disembodied spirit, a “vague, shadowy, or evanescent form”, a spirit that haunts the living, etc, etc. So, everyone seems to agree with what they think a ghost is. They’re mostly right. Let’s unpack good ol’ MW’s definitions, first, to get a better picture of what a ghost is.

A soul.

...

Okay, to be completely honest with you, I really don’t want to unpack that one. There’s a lot of religious implications, philosophical debates, and shaky science wrapped up in that one word to include in this one entry. I might make a different entry in regards to that later, but for the sake of expediency and to stave off the migraine it’ll give me, I’ll just state this: One could consider the soul to be our consciousness, that...something, which makes us who we are individually. I think this is the simplest way to describe what I’ve encountered with ghosts. Anyway, I'm going to leave this bit for now and come back to it, as I believe it is important for our definition.

Second definition: I’m going to go ahead and explicitly state this on record that ghosts, spirits, and demons are not the same thing. Some might try to argue that a ghost is a type of spirit, but let me tell you, in my experience, they are very different entities and will get offended if you insist otherwise. 

You do not want to offend a spirit. 

Trust me. 

I’ll make further entries to explain myself later, but for now, that’s all I have to say. Back to the subject.

I believe the third definition is important to look at in defining ghosts, because it is the closest to the truth. Particularly in the aspects of “disembodied” and “unseen”.

Typically, a ghost does not have a physical body. This may confuse some people, if you take into account how many ghosts are able to interact with the physical world. I guess what I mean to say is that the body and ghost are generally two separate things, as a ghost can exist in cases where a body does not, be it cremated, or in various stages of decay. (Note: attention should be drawn to some instances where this is not the case; see for instance the entry on ju-on. End note). I am not quite sure what mechanism allows ghosts to physically affect the world around them, but perhaps future entries and study will shed some light.

I particularly believe that the lack of a physical body is what makes ghosts “unseen”. The limits of human physicality make it so that anything nonphysical is almost impossible to perceive. I say almost, because there have been several individuals I have met who exhibit the unnatural ability to see ghosts - myself included. So, to summarize here two aspects of ghosts that are important in its definition: a ghost is typically some disembodied entity that is unseen by most, but has the ability to affect the physical world.

Definition number four, and honestly, the most accurate depiction of a ghost: “A shadowy trace”. At the heart of it, a ghost is really just that. A trace. Or, to give a better word for it, an imprint. 

This is where I want to bring back in the early definition of a soul. Throughout our lives, we exist and experience the world. Our experiences shape who we are, how we think, and how we experience our experiences. I can’t say what exactly a “soul” as a single entity is or what happens to it after we kick the bucket, but I do know that occasionally a soul doesn’t disappear from this world. Like I said earlier: it makes an imprint.

How is an imprint made, you might wonder? Well, that’s where the whole thing with experiences comes into play. If you’ve lived a decently normal life and die without complaint, you don’t typically make a substantial imprint. Sure, I’ve come across the odd imprint of love for a place or person, but it’s usually not something pleasant that causes a ghost to form. Think murders, rights left unperformed, hating one's circumstances in life, that sort of thing.

As you can imagine, this tends to cause a lot of problems for the living. Oh sure, you usually come across the haunted house or temple, where you may get a whiff of cigar smoke or hear disembodied laughter in the room over. Those hauntings are pretty easy to get rid of - either you learn to ignore them or just have your local priest come round and say a few blessings. But sometimes, people die violently and suddenly and the emotions they feel at death are enough to make a stronger imprint. 

Those are your more..cookie cutter hauntings. And usually where I, or you know, an actual exorcist comes in. 

Like I mentioned before, I have no idea what allows these stronger imprints to actually interact with the living, but they can, and usually it’s not very pleasant.

I guess I should talk about how ghosts typically interact with the living, while I’m thinking about it. That’s a little tough to explain, from my experience. Actually, that’s a good way to explain it - an experience.

 Most people think that ghosts talk to people like how I’m talking right now. You know, straight, linear conversations. But that’s not the case. See, a ghost is just a memory the person leaves behind, hence an imprint, yadda yadda. Our only way to interact with them is to experience them. This usually takes the form of memories cropping up in dreams, unexplained scents/sounds, or a physical manifestation of the life or death of that individual. Above all, there’s the emotions that caused the ghost to manifest. Those are typically the worst, since they tend to cause personality shifts, paranoia, and the like.

Umm, maybe if I explain it like this, it’ll make a little more sense:

About 3 or 4 months ago, (Redacted) and I - sorry, my partner and I, came across a haunting. It was your typical set up - a family of four moves into a new house for surprisingly cheap and everything seems to be going okay. The neighbors are nice enough but a bit dodgy and uncomfortable with the house, like they know something unpleasant about it, but you write it off cuz this is a new leaf for you guys. 

Anyway, things are going fine for the first few weeks, when the weird things start happening. Footsteps from the second floor when no one’s there, feeling like something is in the room with you, an odd whiff of cologne that doesn’t belong to the husband, that sort of thing. They do the normal thing, find out that there had been a death in the house years prior and get a monk to come say a few blessings. Life goes on. Only, things start to get worse.

The most notable change was with the family’s youngest, a boy around 12. He was described to us as your typical introverted boy, shy but sweet and considerate. It’s usually like this, for some reason. Perhaps it’s the tendency to be on your own that draws ghosts to you like flies. Or maybe it’s something in your makeup that allows you to see ghosts and that in itself makes you introverted. I dunno. In any case, there’s a big enough shift in the kid’s personality to warrant alarm. The part that alarmed the mother the most, however, was the sudden...marks that showed up on the boy. Bruises that had no explanation and, the worst part, circular burns popping up in places under sleeves and pant legs. 

At first, the husband was suspected. Pretty logical conclusion, really, given all the signs. A husband in a stressful job, the boy suddenly becoming withdrawn, flinching from sudden contact, drawing images of a “monster” that supposedly came in at night to hurt him. Most of the child psychologists came to the same conclusion. A case would have been made, I think, if it wasn’t for two unexplained facts: first, the boy mentioned that there was an older figure who tried to protect him, though his older sister claimed she had no knowledge of anything bad happening, and second, the boy kept insisting that it wasn’t his father hurting him.

Most officers kept trying to explain these things away, but thankfully, the mother was introduced to me before any real litigation could happen and I was able to help. I do, however, want to take a moment to make something clear. I do not want to undermine the importance of social workers and the severity of child abuse. Not every instance of child abuse turns out to be a haunting, and I find these usually tend to be isolated incidents. The conclusions of the officers and social workers would have been correct in any other circumstance. The only reason litigation was withheld in this instance was because of the testimony of the young boy and my ability to sense the ghost in question.

Ah, crap, this is starting to get away from me. Um, alright. Long story short, there was in fact a ghost haunting the house, but only one, and that particular ghost was not the one harming the small boy, not intentionally at least. What had happened, apparently, was that the death in question had happened roughly ten years prior - a 15 year old boy was found hanging in his upstairs room. Ruled a suicide. The autopsy revealed what looked to be signs of abuse, but because the boy's father was some high ranking public figure, it was ruled as self harm in court. There was a lot of back and forth, but eventually, the father managed to get off on some minor charge. He paid a fine, got put on some watch list, was supposed to serve community service but got out of that, too. The suicide ruling stayed in place, however, and for the neighbors, that was the case.

Plot twist: that was absolutely not the case. Unsurprisingly, if I’m honest.

The real story, I was able to find out, was that the father had strangled his son in a drunken rage and then set the body to avoid guilt. While he was still incarcerated, he got away with murder, basically. From what I could tell, the teenager had been subjected to heavy abuse for most of his life, never really speaking up but also not being noticed, even though it was relatively obvious from the outside. His last moments...the boy really just wanted someone to notice what was happening, really. To notice and to hold his father accountable. I know this because I got to relive his last moments.

That’s what I’m trying to get at when I say you “experience” a ghost. I didn’t sit down and have a conversation with the ghost, asking for his backstory. I literally experienced it. I felt his memories as if they were my own, the pain and suffering that stood out to him the most, and of course, his final moments. That’s probably the scariest part about ghosts, if I’m honest. When you experience them, you often find yourself subjected to their final moments. Most people don’t survive them, actually. It’s hard to explain, actually, but sometimes when a ghost is formed, they pull in a manifestation of whatever killed them or caused their deaths. That’s what happened in this case - the boy’s father was such a huge part of the abuse and neglect in his life that the imprint included that terrible memory of his father, even though his father wasn’t actually dead. 

Well, it’s not like I have any other evidence to support what I’m saying. All I have is my word. That’s unfortunately the case with a lot of supernatural entities, sadly. You can’t really prove they exist unless you experience or meet them, so a lot of my work is carried out in secret. Or just because someone knows me and nothing else was working and...well, you get the idea.

Anyway, this is starting to get away from me again. And it’s really late. Early. Whatever, I’m tired in any case. This is probably not making any sense at this point. Then again, these are really just for me, so I guess it’s okay that they don’t make that much sense to anyone else. So let’s wrap this up; to summarize:

A “ghost” can be constituted as simply the imprint of a soul; the ghost is usually the imprint of a deceased individual, a memory so to speak that is formed by some fiercely felt emotion that occurred at death. They lack a physical body, which makes them generally “unseen” by most individuals, however, there are some that are able to see/interact more effectively with ghosts. 

How physical interaction is achieved and why some individuals are more susceptible to ghost encounters are questions I hope to answer in the future. My current theory is that in the “experiencing” of a ghost, the trauma is somehow transferred to the living individual - it is perhaps the strength of the negative emotion that has some affect on the living world. In any case, experiencing a ghost can range from something small and innocuous, such as disembodied sounds, smells, or emotions, to...fatal encounters...

Hopefully, recounting my previous missions that have involved ghosts will be more enlightening.

That’s really all I have on the subject at the moment, between my scattered notes, personal anecdotes, and...admittedly sparse book research. In the future, I’ll try to find better ways to actually test my theories and collect physical evidence of the things I come across. Definitely categorize the types of ghosts. I would also like to be able to incorporate anatomical drawings of some of the things I deal with, though many of the spirits tend to be...secretive. Well, that can wait for future entries. In the meantime, I’ll try to dig up actual physical books on these subjects. That is, if I can dig them up at all...]

[lollipopskates]

CALLOUT POST FOR FAUST MURDOCHUB/ALIEN69BOI

Faust/Murdoc/Captcha murdochub/alien69boi is a manipulative abuser and rapist. He has harassed and stalked people in the past, particularly children, and assaulted his ex boyfriend.

Faust, Murdoc, Captcha, Egg/Edgar, Oreo/Orion, and Noose are names he's went by. Murdochub and alien69boi are urls he's used.

TWS: sexual assault, anorexia, proana, harassment, self harm, manipulation, drugs, overdose, death threats (mentions), abuse, grooming, pedophilia, rape, stalking, suicide threats, forced abortion / abortion, racism (mentions).

Murdochub and alien69boi are locked urls, though nobody is for sure if he has a new blog. If you have any information you'd like to share about Faust you can message @murdochubhateblog

ASSAULT, RAPE, STALKING

this section will cover what happened with an ex boyfriend of Faust, 2D. First, here is a screenshot where he talks about the assault and manipulation he received from Faust

(https://murdochubhateblog.tumblr.com/post/179773299703)

(https://murdochubhateblog.tumblr.com/post/181876119118)

In this, 2D says that Faust held him down against his will, yelled at him and poured hydrogen peroxide on a burn wound he had, making it so bad that there were holes in his skin that went all the way down to his fucking bone.

(url redacted for safety). This is proof that Faust is a slimy stalker. The blog this was originally on was deleted to get away from Faust.

STALKING, HARASSMENT, ANOREXIA, PROANA

This is my personal experience with Faust. In November 2017, Faust had gotten into drama with me and my girlfriend, Randy. At that time I had just turned 13 the month before and Randy was 11, soon to be 12 in December. Faust was 24 and should be around 25-26 years old now.

A friend of me and Faust, Okami, had anorexia, and he coped with this by following proana blogs and reblogging their posts. I talked to him about this, and I had told Randy what was happening afterwards, since he did not initially know neither this person or Faust. Me and Randy got accused of spreading lies eventually, and Faust messaged me and immediately bombarded me with threats.

(This was on my old, now deleted blog from 2017, and the "bomlings" mentioned is Randy's old blog, so please excuse the urls)

Faust stopped replying to me after this exchange, and my friend informed me about how Faust was making posts about me and twisting the story to something about how me and Randy were sending people to attack Okami and that we hated people with anorexia.

I messaged him again to ask about this:

I am not going to pretend that the way I approached Okami about his disorder was good, I wanted to help him but I was not experienced in what was going on and I made mistakes. But I didn't guilt him and I most certainly didn't have people attack him. I was friends with him prior to this and would often have private conversations with him, so it doesn't make sense for me to do any of that. Please don't be hateful towards Okami, we worked things out and he played no role in this.

So anyway, back to Faust. We blocked each other after that and he posted about me and Randy constantly... Called is manipulative and two-faced, and posted some asks he'd get about us (a lot of them being creepy messages about super old posts of ours).

Okami deleted his blog because he had gotten some hateful anons, I don't know who sent them though. Faust says we did this and had people send him messages though me and Randy publicly told people not to, and I don't even know where "death threats" came from. Faust acts like Okami committed suicide though he didn't.

(Message that Randy had gotten)

Faust has never spoken to Randy before and he acts like he apologized or something, though he didn't. He called him ableist slurs and reblogged a post from him trying to "debunk" something but that's as far as their interaction goes. Shout out

RAPE, ABUSE, FORCED ABORTION, SUICIDE THREATS, MANIPULATION, SELF HARM

A testimonial from someone who knew Faust around 2012-2014. So, long story short, Faust had a partner and they would both equally abuse each other, would guilt trip with suicide and self harm + guilted them into nsfw situations, obsessively stalked them on a vent blog he had, and sent someone a huge sob story in hopes to get them to date him. This is around when he went by Egg/Edgar, Oreo/Orion, and briefly, Noose.

(https://murdochubhateblog.tumblr.com/post/181855012853)

STALKING, DEATH THREATS

(Left to bottom left, bottom left to top right, top right to bottom right.)

July, 2017, Faust made a callout for a 16 year old and accused her of transfaking, scamming people, abuse, and how her girlfriend was in her 20s and grooming her... which according to Faust, even if that was true, is apparently her fault.

He had sent anonymous death threats to her, created fake blogs to harass and threaten her by saying he'd post her IP address online. She deleted blogs because he scared her so much.

OTHER: RACISM, PEDOPHILIA

Kin drama is dumb but you know. Faust is kin with Murdoc Niccals, from Gorillaz. Murdoc is abusive, he beats his bandmate, 2-D.

While apparently Murdoc isn't a pedophile, this is still canon. Murdoc is like, 60 something. I don't have anything of this but Murdoc also called his Japanese bandmate a "wasabi bitch".  According to 2D, Faust is extremely white and Murdoc is apparently a racist Mexican stereotype.

Faust also has a history of reblogging Detroit: Become Human and kinning an Asian character from BNHA, and it's interesting that Faust likes BNHA in the first place since I hear it's quite popular for pedophilia.

2D also says that Faust has told him that "trump isn't as bad as you think".

This ends the callout, thank you for reading if you did. Please reblog this so people know to avoid this person. Please message @murdochubhateblog if you have any testimonials ! 

[agentargus]

//Ages back, @spookylilmoonpie asked for more information about Dante and Murmur. Started on some lore but I’ll post a small part of it here now:

Audio transcribed and translated from the Italian (with exceptions where necessary) by [REDACTED]. Timestamp states place the recording took place at 3:33 PM on the 10th of January [DATE REDACTED]

“This is Father Dominic Lawrence, acting chaplain of the St. Olympius Residential School , documenting on behalf of Repubblica Dei Lupi. The day is the tenth of January, Feast of St. Peter Orseolo. Optional Christmas vacation ended one week prior to this day. As the students of St. Olympius have returned to school for spring sememster, they have begun reporting strange happenings—well, stranger than usual—concerning two students enrolled on the fourth of December, Feast of St. Giovanni Calabria. The following interview is to be conducted with the older brother. Mother Superior currently records her questioning of the younger sister in the parish hall...”

Transcriber’s note: Father Lawrence now opens the door, the creaking of which can be heard on the original recording.

Good afternoon, son.”

“Good afternoon, Father Lawrence.”

“Please sit down and help yourself to the cookies.”

“Thank you.”

“What is your name, son?”

“Dante Feliciano Argenti.”

“And how old are you.”

“I don’t know. Mother says I’m roughly three years older than Giu-Giu—my sister, but Mother doesn’t like talking about it.”

“How old do you think you are.”

“Most of the people in my class are fourteen or fifteen—except Estella. She just turned 3049 years old yesterday. I told her she didn’t look a day over 2000, but I don’t think she understood that I was joking...”

“Sister Madalberta claims you’ve been sleepwalking.”

“If I have, I don’t remember.”

“Then you don’t remember the things you said to little Francesco?”

“That he could have my marbles because I’d already lost them in the figurative sense?”

“No, though that was very kind of you and he’s very thankful. I mean when he found you sleepwalking out of the dormitory and tried to wake you up...Dante, you told him that a thousand centipedes waited for him in hell, that they would crawl beneath his eyelids while he slept and...”

“I didn’t say that! I promise, I didn’t say that. Centipedes wouldn’t even go to hell anyway, they’re perfectly nice creatures...”

“Yes, the boy was quite sure that it wasn’t you, even if the words came out of your mouth. Didn’t have your energy, he said. You know he’s an empath, yes?”

“Is that like a psychic?”

“Sort of...”

“I really should apologize to him, if only for the bad things he’s probably seen in my head.”

“Tell me about the bad things in your head...”

“I don’t think you really want to hear them, Father. Mother says I think exactly the way she expects from a teenage boy...”

“You’re probably right, let me rephrase: tell me about the bad thing in your head that isn’t you. Tell me about the thing that hurt your mother.”

“Why would you want to know about him? I’d call him a turd, but I don’t hate toilets so much that I would force him upon them.”

“Have another cookie, Dante.”

“Thank you. Mother never let me have seconds.”

“Why do you hate him?”

“Because hurt my mother, obviously. He would have hurt my sister if he’d had the chance...”

“Did he ever speak to you?”

“Only in my nightmares...can I go now? Please?”

“Did he pretend to be your friend.”

“No, he pretended to be me...”

“What do you mean?”

“I grew up in a haunted mental institution, Father. I would like to think I’m well-versed in the difference between the voices that exist within one’s own mind and those that belong to outside forces, between madness and malus, if you will...”

“...but...”

“...There were no voices in my head at all, at least, none I could distinguish from my own thoughts. Do I have to talk about this?”

“Just explain a little more...”

“I had bad thoughts. I still do. Everyone does, I think. I want to think it’s normal. Sometimes, I’d have very vivid night terrors where I...where acted on those bad thoughts. I wanted to be good, I couldn’t be good all the time, but I tried. Every bad thought would be locked away somewhere, and my nightmares would feed on them, the way eating soy beans or chicken can feed a growing tumor with the hormones but are harmless if you don’t have a tumor. I think I was fighting myself too hard to realize that I was also fighting something else.”

“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”

“Yes, exactly. I thought it was just my guilty conscience and nothing more, which made me feel all the more helpless to fight back. Guilt isn’t productive, Signore Pantalone told me when he rescued Giu-Giu and me. It traps you so that you become convinced you can’t do better, and if you think you can’t do better, you don’t. I think the bad thing that lives inside me was waiting until I stopped trying to do better, until I couldn’t tell the difference between my nightmares and reality...and now, I guess he can’t tell the difference either if he wakes up when I’m asleep.”

“How would you feel if I put you to sleep so that I could talk to him?”

“I thought you were maybe trying to put me to sleep right now, but sedatives don’t work on me. Why else do you think I’ve been eating the cookies even though I’m pretty sure you drugged them?”

“You’re a smart boy.”

“Thank you. You didn’t have to lie to me, you know. Bearing false witness is a sin, father.”

“I never lied to you, son...”

“A sin of omission is still a sin. You think I’m stupid. Everyone thinks I’m stupid. I was trying to be polite, but trying just made me look like an idiot...”

“I didn’t drug the cookies, Dante. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t want to put you to sleep, I wanted to make you angry, because being angry makes you feel guilty, and when you feel guilty, you want to disappear...”

“And nothing can stop me...”

*muffled static*

Transcriber’s note: at this moment, the radio in Father Dominic’s office appears to have been switched on. The song “Duke of Earl” by Gene Chandler plays in the background of the following conversation:

“˙˙˙lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnD lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnD”

“Dante?”

“Dante’s inferno...”

“Who are you?”

“Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht? Den Erlenkönig mit Kron' und Schweif?"

“Excuse me?”

“I’m the Duke of Erl, I sing, come and I’ll show you the Erl King.”

“What is your purpose?”

“I’m gonna love you ¿sɹǝʌoɔ ɹnoʎ ɹǝpun ɹǝɥ ɟo ʞuᴉɥʇ noʎ ʍouʞ poƃ ɹnoʎ sǝoD ¿ɹǝɥʇɐɟ 'ɹǝɥ ǝʌol noʎ ʍouʞ ǝɥs sǝoD ‘cause I’m the Duke of Erl.”

“Why are you here?”

“It’s nighttime. Time to sing a lullaby.”

“Why didn’t you manifest sooner?”

“I’m always there when good little boys are sleeping. Are you thinking of Sister Claire while you’re sleeping? Mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt. Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch' ich Gewalt. Come on, let me hold you, darlin’...”

Transcriber’s note: According to Father Lawrence, this lull in the conversation occurs when he unplugs the radio, though the song keeps playing.

“Why did you manifest when he was awake?”

“ʞɐǝʍllᴉʇssǝɥsǝlᴉɥʍǝʇuɐpʎqɐqǝɥʇllᴉʞ ˙ǝʇuɐp 'ʎqɐq ǝɥʇ ǝʇɐɥ ʇ’uop 'ǝʇuɐp 'ʎqɐq ǝɥʇ ǝʞɐʍ ʇ’uop ˙ʎqɐq ǝɥʇ ǝʞɐʍ ʇ’uop sʎɐs ɹǝɥʇoW. Dante says don’t wake the baby, mother, don’t hurt the baby mother, don’t hurt the baby. In seinen Armen das Kind war tot...”

“Tell me your name.”

“I’m the lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnD lɹƎ ɟo ǝʞnD ǝʞnD ǝʞnDoh yeah yeah yeah yeah...”

“I-in the name of the Father, I command you, tell me your name...”

“Aaaaaaa-I’m the lord of the night, master those spirits who cannot rest, Duke and earl and duke and earl and...”

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy S-Spirit, I command you, tell me your name.”

“...Murmurmurmurmurmurder you in your sleep, while you’ve got your pants down and you’re thinking of Sister Claire...”

“Shut up!”

“That wasn’t very nice, Father. Have you been a bad boy? Good little boys must go to bed. Bad little boys must stay there. Never waking up again. In his arms, the child lay dead...”

“In Jesus’s name, once more, your name.”

“No.”

“Your name...”

“No.”

[several seconds of unintelligible static]

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven...”[more static] “The power of Christ compels you, tell me your name!”

“...Murmur.”

“Murmur, go back to hell.”

“Already there. Nothing can stop me...”

“I command you, in Jesus’s name, go back!”

“Dante’s inferno. Dante’s hell. Don’t hurt the baby, mother! Over and over again...”

“Go back!”

“Hell is home. Dante is home. Dante is hell. Can’t kill the baby, it’s okay to hurt the baby, Dante, she won’t die.”

“Go back!”

“People who cannot die cannot go to hell. People who cannot die are already in hell. Hell is where the the good little boys go to bed.”

“Murmur, I command you, go back to hell!”

“Daylight is fire. Fire is hell. It’s nighttime. Dante is daylight. Daylight is hell. I am in hell. We’ll walk through my dukedom and a paradise we’ll share...”

“The sun is rising, Murmur, go back to sleep...”

“Duke Duke Duke Duke of Erl Duke Duke Duke of Erl Duke...is everything alright, Father? You look like you’ve seen a ghost...literally.”

Transcriber’s note: the recording ends here.