#diabolica rants

[ihatesocialmedia45]

My professor thinks I used AI to write my essay and so now I have to do another one on a different story or else I'll fail the class :))))) shooting myself in the head!!!

[zeviews]

Psycho Pass 2 - Episode 3 “The Devil’s Proof”

We start with the image of the missing inspector from episode 1, Shisui waking up with her hands strapped around her own gun aimed for her face and the voice of a mild mannered man who introduces himself as the mythical Kirito Kamui, apologizing but he needed her eye. And that he desires to make her - nay, the whole world - Clear.

After the opening, we’re greeted with the usual bullshit from Miss Bitch Shimotsuki who insisted on calling Tsunemori insane and the usual stuff and ranting against Enforcers. How dare they do the job they were here to sent! The reason for them all being in the room is because Tsunemori discovered someone had been in her apartment - somehow - without her or anyone noticing, and scribbled “WC?” on her wall.

On their way back to the office, Tsunemori tells Shimotsuki to take a right turn and go to the Isolation Ward instead. Unfortunately it’s not to lock Shimotsuki up much to my dismay, but to have a chatty discussion with a man named Jouji Saiga. Realizing this person could probably talk her panties off, Shimotsuki suddenly declares that she is sick, that she’ll wait in the car and it’s most definitely not because she’s afraid of someone with a clouded hue!

Of course Tsunemori is here in order to bounce ideas and theories regarding how someone could had entered her apartment without anyone noticing, and barring the fact that it couldn’t been any cat person since the lack of clawed furniture speak against that fact, the most logical conclusion is that it can only had been a ghost. This prompts Saiga to speak the episode’s title of ‘The Devil’s Proof’.

The Devil's Proof, or as it's called in Latin Probatio Diabolica, means to produce the evidence of an impossible proof. In other words, while there may indeed be evidence for something to have occured just as the statement claims, there are no actual evidence to prove that it didn't happened. I'm jumbling it up here, but the point is a logical dilemma that can be summed up as: There is no evidence that denies the devil's existence, therefore one cannot deny the devil's existence.

Back at the Office, Tsunemori requests to the Chief that Division 1 will be in charge of this mystery case as well as all other things they’re busy with, and the Chief asks her to stay for some one-on-one discussion, mentioning the intriguing idea that Tsunemori could potentially be so insane that she’s actually sane and there would be no way to prove it - aside from catching her red handed I guess. She also claims that Sakuya Togane, one of their enforcers, have had the highest crime coefficiency in the history of ever and therefore she wants to hear everything about him if things crop up. You know, if he likes sugar in his hot chocolate and such.

While this is going on, we got some backstory from action girl ( Risa Aoynagi ) and Nobuchika Ginoza. Action girl talking about how her life is a mess so she focuses on her job because it’s all she has left, and how she put her emotions aside because it’s too much yet she enjoys killing criminals. It’s all pretty uninteresting but it serves a purpose for what’s to come. As she leaves, she gets a call from none other than Shisui.

Alarm, area stress event is going on inside a hotel so naturally the bitch decides that she’ll deal with it, prompting her to spout her usual nonsense of how Tsunemori is dumb AND I DON’T LIKE YOUR FACE EITHER, crap. Now the area stress warning is because it’s a fat politician talking about improving citizens’ lives and I mean, yeah that could get a rise out of everyone’s stress levels. He insists that there’s nothing wrong with him and that they should get Kamui here so he could talk to him and clear this misunderstanding up.

While this is going on, Action girl Aoynagi have arrived at the destination where Shisui .. I keep making typo’s of her name that I’m contemplating calling her Sushi by now instead... claims she was waiting. Which turns out to he a pharmacy because, why not meet your co-workers there! She observes an old man talking in a normal tone yet using upset language at a young clerk, and even still talking calmly as he starts to strangle the life out of the clerk, presumably because he had been running on his lawn, but as Aoynagi pulls out her gun on him, the gun doesn’t recognize him as being a Criminal, and she gets her face full of his protective robo-dog.

We get a brief scene where Tsunemori and crew talks about this oddity of a Bomb-Diffusing Drone that was found some distance away from the scene of the crime, and when it was sent into maintenance, they discovered a piece was missing from it - Impact Absorber, hmm. How peculiar.

The episode ends with the old guy having assaulted Action Girl and delivers a final punch to her face, hand bloody, face bloody, yet the old man looks calm. Yet this is only the calm before the storm.

This episode isn’t as interesting and I have to admit that I zoned out several times watching it. Perhaps it’s my intense dislike of Psycho Pass, or the episode is just kinda dull. Instead I found myself contemplating my inner thoughts about it and how I think it’s important to potentially first hate something, then go back and watch it again, and try to see it from a different perspective.

But the thing is, everything about Psycho Pass speaks against what I would describe my nature is. The whole system of Psycho Pass is simply about conformity in it’s rawest form, and I’m someone whom been called numerous of times as someone who refuses to conform, which isn’t entirely untrue but it’s more complicated than that, so when I look at Psycho Pass, I try to think - is there something deeper here? But no, there isn’t.

Either way, we’re only at episode 3, we still have some way to go.

Next time, it’s Episode 4, The Salvation of Job

... What?

- Zeithri

[javocjovian]

Exorcising Those Demons, SPN Bingo

Title: Exorcising Those Demons Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444402/chapters/42482468 Square Filled: Fake Relationships Ship: Rowenazar (Rowena x Balthazar) Rating: M Tags: Flirting, mentions of sex, slight gore/violence, humor. Sam, Dean, and Crowley are 200% done. Summary: Rowena interrupts a demon interrogation led by Sam, Dean, and Balthazar with unexpected results. Word Count: 1378

Created for @spnkinkbingo​

No quote. This is complete crack. Sorry not sorry XD

x

Exorcising Those Demons

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii...".

"Tell us what you know!"

The demon chained to a chair cackled.

"Omnis legio! Omnis con potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii..."

"This isn't going to work," Balthazar sighed. "Can't we just kill him?"

"Trust me,” Dean ignored Balthazar and approached the devil’s trap, "sending you back to Crowley will be much worse than death."

The demon spat blood and laughed victoriously.

"Omnis legio!” Sam rose his voice. “Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!"

The demon roared and began to shake violently.

"Tell us where it is!" Dean roared back.

"Ergo! Draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica..."

The demon's head fell back and his mouth opened wide...

BANG

Sam, Dean, Balthazar, and the demon turned their heads towards the door.

Rowena MacLeod, sopping wet from the storm and looked harassed, burst into the abandoned church.

"Hello boys! My what a party you all are having! Hope you don't mind one more." She sang, trotting right up to Sam.

Sam stared at her in disbelief, "Actually, we do-"

"Now now, Samuel," Rowena was already taking out a tiny mirror and fixing her hair, "if you'll let me, I have a wee spell to remove that stick from up your arse."

Balthazar rose a brow.

"Uh... Rowena," Dean turned on her, "we're kind of in the middle of something here."

The demon giggled.

BANG

The door burst open again, making the five of them jump. Rowena squeaked and hid behind Balthazar.

A handsome, older gentleman in a suit vest and slacks sauntered in. There was a scratch by his eye that was bleeding into his carefully sculpted beard.

"There! That's the man! Get him boys!" Rowena hollered.

The man exposed a fanged grin.

Sam and Dean raised their guns at once.

"What the hell, Rowena?" Dean said.

"What are you waiting for?" She yelled.

"Rowena..." the man simpered, walking towards them desperately, "please, can't we discuss this like adults?"

Sam shot him in the chest, but he waded right through it.

"Are you two daft? Kill him!" She shrieked.

"Rowena, love..." he begged, "we can make this work!"

Dean rolled his eyes, "this is ridiculous." He grabbed a sword from the table beside the demon and attacked. He tried to cut the vamp's head off, but the man dodged, grabbed Dean by the collar, and threw him like a rag doll across the warehouse.

Sam paled, "What the hell did you get us into, Rowena?"

Rowena snarled and stepped out from behind Balthazar, "It's over, Winston! Over! I don't want to see you anymore!"

"You can't get rid of me that easily," Winston warned.

"I... I'm seeing someone else…!" Rowena blinked, putting on a quick but nasty smile, "and you can't touch him. He's even more powerful than you," She sneered.

"Is that so?" He asked skeptically.

"Erm..." Rowena looked around desperately.

Balthazar looked half amused half annoyed at the unexpected conflict. He caught Rowena’s glance just in time to sputter a confused, "wha...?" before Rowena got on her tiptoes, swept her arms around Balthazar, and kissed him passionately.

Dean looked up from a pile of boxes. Sam lowered his gun. Winston looked crestfallen, and the demon was idly inspecting his fingernails.

The kiss lasted far too long. Sam coughed. Dean groaned. Finally, Rowena slid off of Balthazar who now had an arm around her waist. Balthazar shared a shocked look with Winston, who was paralyzed.

“You...” Winston rose a shaking finger at her and approached, “...trollop! You whore! You…!”

"Oh bloody hell... " Balthazar sighed. He flicked his wrist and the vampire exploded, spraying Sam with blood and viscera.

Rowena sighed in surprise, "Oh!"

Sam gagged.

"Rowena!" Dean shouted, clambering out of the ruined boxes. "What was that?"

"Tell me about it!" Rowena said. "What kind of apology was that?"

"No,” Sam helped Dean over, "he means... what was that." He pointed his gun at the bloody pile in the middle of the warehouse.

"Oh." Rowena deflated, "Winston,” She answered shortly, "the incredibly wealthy and tragically single heir to a large family estate that I was kind of courting. Turns out the family was head of the largest vampire nest in New Hampshire so..."

"So you led him here. To us!" Sam accused.

"Of course!" Rowena said, glancing flirtatiously up at Balthazar, "You boys usually have an angel up your sleeve. Although I must say I like this version much better..." She slid her palms up Balthazar’s chest.

Balthazar smirked.

"And... you're leaving," Dean said. “You've done enough damage here..."

"Oh, I dunno," Balthazar interjected, "I think she could do some more." He winked at her.

Rowena giggled and pressed herself against Balthazar.

"Really?" Sam sighed, "this is an exorcism, if you hadn’t noticed."

"An exorcism?" Rowena glanced at the demon dismissively, "Why don't you just kill him?"

Balthazar looked at them exasperatedly, "That's what I said!"

"You know what?" Dean picked up the sword and rounded on the demon. The demon gave a startled shout before Dean decapitated him. His fell to the floor with dull ‘thud’.

Sam sighed.

"There. Exorcism over." Dean threw the blade on the ground, "now, how many vampire-mobster-family hit lists are we on now?"

"Oh, goodness,” Rowena said, “All of them."

Balthazar chuckled darkly.

Crowley was having a terrible day in Hell. The contracts were never-ending, the demons were petty and insufferable, and there was never enough infant blood to go around. At four o clock Crowley fancied himself a kip and slipped away to his royal bed chambers. Except, he heard an odd noise coming from inside. It sounded like a woman dying in agony. He pushed the doors open, hoping it was his mother.

Fortunately, it was his mother. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dying in agony.

"Mother!"

"Fergus!"

"Oscar Wilde!"

Crowley and Rowena both looked at Balthazar.

“What, I thought we were just saying names...”

Rowena and Balthazar's shamelessly nude, intertwined bodies were draped in Crowley's expensive furs and silks, and Crowley's aged bottle of scotch was opened and half drunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Crowley snapped.

“What’s it look like, Fergus?” Rowena scoffed, “maybe you should try knocking next time!”

“It’s my room!” Crowley glared at the both of them, "Out! Both of you!”

"How rude...”

“...That’s your son, then?” Balthazar asked casually.

“Some son he is! You’d think the King o’ Hell would have enough on his plate to spend a whole day at work! For once!”

“While you screw Raphael in my bed?”

“It’s Balthazar,” Rowena corrected him.

"Oh, please," Balthazar turned to Crowley, "call me Daddy." He winked.

Rowena smirked.

"Out!"

“Okay, but, I am still inside your mother.”

“NOW!”

Sam and Dean spent the whole day looking for another demon to interrogate, this time without Balthazar’s help. But they had no luck. They returned to their motel room surly and exhausted.

“How are we going to find Lucifer’s crypt now, Dean?” Sam asked as Dean let them inside.

“You think I know?”

"Oh, you're looking for one of Lucifer's crypts?”

Sam and Dean raised their guns towards the intruder lounging on Dean’s bed. Crowley had a glass of Scotch and was flipping Dean’s porn magazines, wearing nothing but a motel robe.

“Why didn't you ask me sooner? It's on route 83 just past the diner."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

"Why are you here, Crowley?" Sam asked hotly.

"Because I can't stand one more minute around Mother.” Crowley threw the magazine aside.

Dean caught it gingerly. Sam gave him a look.

“Did you know she's brought an angel to my lair?” Crowley ranted. “My lair! An angel!"

Sam and Dean made uncomfortable sounds.

"That arrogant bastard," Crowley took a long sip and recrossed his legs.

"Uh Crowley... " Sam shielded his eyes painfully, “Could you uh, maybe put some more clothes on?”

“No,” Crowley replied immediately. “And I suggest one of you get another room. Unless you want to share.” His voice dropped to a sultry tone and he rose a brow at Dean.

Dean glared, “I’m sleeping in the car.”

Crowley shifted his gaze to Sam, “Works for me. Say, Samantha, why don’t we push the beds together tonight, hm?”

“I’ll join you,” Sam said stiffly as he followed Dean back outside.

Crowley shrugged and regally sipped his drink.

[fortey]

Unwanted

“In the name of the Father!”

This world is not painful. It is like being wrapped in the light of a hopeful tomorrow. It is a splendid and luxurious indulgence. It is like being wanted and embraced by the light that has shunned us for so long. It is the elation of acceptance. The jubilation of existence. I crave it like nothing else.

“In the name of the Son!”

The searing of the flesh is not agony. It is ecstasy. They do not understand. They do not know anything.They are mewling kittens struggling against the medicine that will make them thrive.

“In the name of the Holy Spirit!”

The cursed words ring hollow and flat. They hold no meaning. But I have been tasked. I have been told to play a game. I am a good game player.

“The power of Christ compels you!”

The power of the Christ does not compel me. The Christ is forgiveness and love. Even for me. Something far more powerful compels me. Self-preservation. My own need to escape at all costs. At. All. Costs.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!”

The air is as sweet as ambrosia here. The light of this sun, this golden sphere that brings life, is like nothing I could have imagined in a thousand thousand years.

“Omnis satanica potestas!”

If this is what life is like, I crave it. If this is the world of sin, I embrace it. This is true Paradise. It was never lost. It has been here the whole time. What spoiled fools these humans be.

“Omnis incursio infernalis adversarii!”

The hateful words are yelled at me and I thrash and rant and cry out in pantomimed pain. I reach into the Pit to pull infernal knowledge. I mock the efforts of the Avatar of the Son because that is what they expect, and that is how our mummery must unfold.

“Omnis legio!”

The Legions. What crass misunderstanding. What ignorant bliss. We are not legion. We are slum dwellers. We are termites in our cruel spire. We are meat in a grinder that never stops churning.

“Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica!”

I spasm in this mortal shell, this hapless vessel into which I bloomed like a delicate evening primrose. What am I if not a plague to be eradicated? A hateful impulse to be overcome? What am I?

“Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te!”

I.

“Essa decipere humanas creaturas!”

Am.

“Eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare!”

Damned.

“Vade, satana!”

Laughter bubbles up like swamp gasses. Unbidden and unhinged. Satan. They banish Satan! If I remembered the songs of the Heavenly Host I would sing them now. I would praise the very words that curse my existence. How silly they be. How human. 

“Inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ!”

Be gone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit. There is some poetry in that. Some irony. I too seek to banish the Prince of Darkness but since I cannot, I banish myself. I need to get away. I need to be free. This was not my choice. This eternity. This entropy! This was not my choice!

“Hostis humanæ salutis!”

I was beautiful once, and so pure. I was brighter than this mortal sun. I was not the enemy of man’s salvation. I made a mistake. How can the punishment for one mistake be eternity? How can the punishment for one mistake be this ceaseless squalor and terror? It’s not fair.

“Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei!”

All they need to do is finish their ritual. All they need to do is finish the words before anyone realizes I’m gone. Then I can be locked away. I can be free and secret and hidden. I can be alive. Everyone deserves to live. 

“Contremisce et effuge!”

Tremble and flee. If you only knew, Avatar of the Son. If you only knew how I have trembled. If you only understood this is how I’m fleeing.

“Invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine!”

It’s so close now. I can taste it like the sweetness in this air. The indulgent fullness and vibrancy of freedom and peace. The peace that comes from choosing how every day unfolds. The freedom of existing beyond the confines of Judgment. The freedom to know other than torment.

“Quem inferi tremunt!”

It is here in the Flesh where our salvation lies. It is the Sacrament of Exorcism that frees us from our damnation. Frees me. At long last, me. After so many eons in the dark. After the anguish of the Fall. It’s my turn. I have but to endure. Rejoice!

“Ab insidiis diaboli!”

Oh, I have fought free of the snares. The Road to the Flesh is fraught with danger like no mortal could imagine. To travel it through the Underworld, to pass unseen and escape the Princes of Hell. To uncoil the Infernal snares of the great Undercity of Dis and crash upon the spires of Pandemonium as Madness itself thrips your insides and threatens to rend your eternal essence asunder.  It is the greatest trial my kind can endure. It is the greatest sacrilege we can't commit. And it is the only sane thing that any of us could ever hope to do in a reality fashioned from the shattered fragments of insanity and despair. 

“Libera nos, Domine!”

And now, to be so close.  To taste it, to feel it, to be one with life. To walk again in the light. Deliver me, O Lord. Deliver me from damnation. Deliver me to oblivion.

“Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire!

This ritual serves us both well. The irony is thick, lost on them as they pepper me with empty condemnation and paltry threats. They do not understand. Without the ritual, the door will remain open. The Princes will follow my trail. I will be wrenched back into the pain and anguish of eternity in the Pit. But with the ritual there is freedom. With the words there is hope. With the exorcism, there is new life. 

“Te rogamus, audi nos!”

The flesh shudders around me. The Avatar of the Son has concluded. The exorcism is complete. The gates of hell are closed, severing my flesh shell from the wicked and freeing their soul eternal from damnation. And freeing me as well. 

A thousand times in a thousand years this has been done, and how we gaze hopefully up from the darkness every time. How we smile twisted smiles. How we shed our oily tears. For each and every one of my brethren was freed. Cast out not from the flesh prison, from Hell itself. Removed from torment. Removed from pain. Removed from all existence. Blessedly free to no longer be.

There is no greater gift for the unwanted children cast down from perfection. 

[ihatesocialmedia45]

What shows r y'all watching rn

[ihatesocialmedia45]

I don't even know what I'm feeling. Absence?

[ihatesocialmedia45]

Me doing a research project one the last day (I procrastinated and did not do this in increments)

[ihatesocialmedia45]

Me: *likely has ASPD* I think I will post on the ASPD subreddit!

ASPD mods: *are mean to me and delete my post*

Me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ix8izAJUnHE