#it takes god months to remove a demon from a person?

[lycorid]

“THIS BODY IS MINE”

“NO IT’S NOT”

Exorcisms are both the funniest and most pathetic things, I swear.

[writing-mlm]

Hi, may I request a Tim Drake x male!reader story ? The reader is androgynous, has a rock/punk style, is a Japanese exorcist who dislikes heroes, and has an impulsive, shameless, and slightly paranoid personality. A fluff piece, please. Sorry for asking a lot, take care of yourself !

Stay for dinner-breakfast

Summary: Tim’s in a situationship with someone who hates heroes, this is just great. Pairing: Tim Drake x Male!Reader Wc: 3.8k tags/warnings: Japanese reader, way too many Blue Exorcist references, small demon fight

When most people familiar enough with demons or even the Justice League mention needing an exorcist, minds immediately go to the infamous John Constantine. The guy who managed to trick God and Satan, making himself nearly immortal. The guy who, admittedly, could probably control most demons with the flick of his cigarette.

Tim’s mind, however, wanders to a guy he met during his time abroad. When he had to do some Red Robin stuff that took him to Japan. He reminisces about it as if it was decades ago, in reality, it was two years ago. Hardly even two years, if he’s being honest. But he rarely is. 

While Bruce and Dick argue about whether or not they should call up John (the last time they did, Constantine ended up summoning more demons to deal with the initial demons and then blew up a building to get rid of the extra demons) (it cost Wayne Enterprises too much to justify asking that man for help again) Tim fishes out his phone. It doesn’t take him long to find the contact; it’s been what… a week since you’ve last spoken. He’s texted exactly three people within that week; Kon, Bart, and Jason. Jason because he wanted to know if he could join a drug bust he knew Jason had coming up. 

The answer was no. 

The phone rings as he spins in the chair, waiting until he hears that it’s connecting. Seriously, it’s already been three whole rings, what’s the hold-up?

“Whaddya want, hero boy?” You ask without looking down at the phone. Probably because you’re jumping from the ledge of a roof to a lamppost and then to the top of a vending machine. 

“You busy?” He asks, looking at the mole underneath your jaw. He hadn’t known that. Your head tilts from side to side as you make a noise. 

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Glancing down at the phone, you wink and then pocket the phone. 

“There’s a demon in Gotham, could use the help.” He says, barely able to see as you’re fighting a demon. His eyes glance up at the contact name Okumura, unassuming to most because it is someone’s last name but to Tim, it’s so much more. 

He thought it was absolutely hilarious that you were an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother, and had the same hobbies as the anime where the main character is an exorcist from Japan, raised by a priest, with a twin brother. You didn’t think it was nearly as funny. The first time he mentioned it you kicked him from a rooftop— it was three stories, he was fine. 

“Like now?” You ask, picking your sword— just like the anime character, he’d gladly remind you— and cutting the demon in half with a mumbled but strong prayer. 

“Yes,” He nods, looking at the live feed of a demon messing up the finance district of Gotham. 

“Fine,” You grumble. “You’re lucky I finished my work for the day. See you in a minute.” 

“Kay, bye!” He hangs up and removes an earbud, calling for Bruce and Dick who haven’t stopped arguing. He wonders how they’d get anything done without him. They stop and look towards him as he waves his phone. “I have someone coming in for the demons.” He announces and Dick just hopes it’s not one of his friends from his YJ time. He cannot deal with those kids after finding out they watched Santa Claus get killed by a sentient meteor and then spent the next five months delivering gifts. 

“It isn’t Constantine, right?” Bruce asks, arms crossed and a disapproving glare ready to be plastered on his face. 

“That white man has nothing on me,” You chuckle, entering the Batcave through the door, spinning a set of skeleton keys on your index finger before putting them back into your pocket. Pointedly, Tim looks off to the wall with a see, anime guy look before turning back to the task at hand. 

“Who…?” Dick slowly asks while Bruce is having second thoughts about letting Tim back into the cave ever again.

“That’s Okumura,” He responds, standing up from the chair to greet you.

You’re wearing a pair of jorts— but the good kind, not the weird-looking ones— with hand-bleach-painted crosses on the leg, chunky beige leg warmers over a pair of shiny black loafers and an extremely large sweater that falls off your shoulder as you run down the stairs overtop a black turtleneck. 

There’s a pair of red shades on the top of your head, they curve at the top in a way that makes it look as though you have horns. Tim decides to not comment on the obvious joke he could make. But you can tell he wants to make it because of the glint in his eyes.

“Hello!” You nod without looking at them, too focused on not tripping over the steps, and give the group a small two-finger wave. “Tim calls me Okumura, it is not my name, though.” The hand that was doing the wave meets his hand and you do a funky little handshake before you look over at them for the first time. You frown, looking at their suits. It’s not even a frown, it’s damn near a scowl. You look at Tim who just shrugs; he would’ve thought you knew he was with his hero family.

“I’ll head out the demon; tell them not to follow me,” You tell Tim and he nods, sending you the location of the fight. While he does that, you look around for a different exit when you see his motorcycle parked, ready to go. “I’m stealing your motorbike again!” You call as you’re rushing over to it. 

“Kay!” He replies, head still buried in his phone. The motorcycle reeves to life as you jump on it; Bruce nearly stops you but the door to the cave is opening and you’re off faster than he can move. Slowly, he turns towards Tim with his arms crossed and a lecture waiting to happen.

“You better have a good explanation for that,” Bruce says once the door closes again. 

“That’s my exorcist friend,” He explains with a shrug. 

“You have friends outside of Kon?” Jason asks, a teasing tone to his voice but Tim can tell it genuinely surprised Dick. He doesn’t know if he should be hurt by that. 

“Yeah,” He shrugs. 

“And he’s an exorcist?” Bruce asks, looking at where the motorcycle once sat. He really hopes you don’t break it.

“Yup.”

“How did he get here so fast?” Dick asks, a little worried Tim was hiding a person in the manor.

“Funny story,” Tim smiles, looking up at them before looking down again, leaving them hanging. Jason grumbles, air strangling him while Bruce just sighs and looks back to the live feed. Thankfully you’d already arrived at the scene and to Tim and your credit, you’re dealing with the demons fairly easily. It’s surprising that your face is hidden from the public’s view, he hadn’t seen a mask but he also hadn’t seen the giant sword so. Probably some magic he won’t care about but probably should learn.

“Let’s go, fifteen Joker goons spotted around the site.” In a fluid motion, Tim puts his mask on and follows Bruce into the Batmobile. 

When Tim gets out of the car, he immediately finds you. You’re on top of a demon, riding it in the air while laughing and stabbing a nearby demon. He stops for a moment, wondering how you managed to wrangle a demon enough to sit on its back as if it were a horse. He then sees the knife in its head and he understands. He’s nearly jealous of the sight. 

Tim finally joins the others in the fight, narrowly avoiding the demons spawning from someplace he hasn’t found out yet. But you have, because you kill the flying horse demon and land softly behind Tim, cutting a demon away before it can sneak up on him. He shouts a thank you, pushing two goons back with his staff.

“I said no heroes!” You shout as you’re running past, heading towards a glowing manhole. How he hadn’t noticed it before; he won’t ever know. 

“Did he say no heroes?” Dick grunts, pushing back two goons that tried to jump him. 

“Yeah, he got issues with them.” Tim laughed before he was punched in the stomach by the goon he’d been fighting. He grumbles, holding the spot for a second before he knocks the goon out. “How many more are left?” He asks.

“Four,” Bruce says as he knocks out one of them. “Three.”

He goes to reply when there’s a loud explosion from the manhole and he looks over. Blue smoke rises out from the holes and he abandons trying to help the others fight the remaining goons in favor of finding you in the chaos. He doesn’t know what the smoke is but he assumes it’s some type of Joker Gas and he knows you’re not used to that. 

Putting a respirator on his face, he moves the manhole cover and jumps down. He squints into the blue fog, listening for noises but there’s a lot. There are hundreds of insect demons scurrying around him, hissing from the pipes, and he stops to really listen. He hears a string of coughs and follows it, the smoke getting thicker but he sees the faint outline of you lying on your back. 

“You don’ need a mask,” You huff, waving your hand in an attempt to move the smoke. “It is not poison.” 

“What is it?” He asks, removing the respirator as the smoke starts to clear, escaping up to the manhole. Your figure gets clearer, he can see your shirt and your hands resting on your stomach. 

“Spell,” You respond. “A… boobtrap for the talisman.”

“Boobytrap.” He corrects, putting the small device back into his pocket.

“That is what I said.” You blink, sitting up. He doesn’t fight you on that and helps you to your feet before he stops, hand still in yours. Now that you’re up close, he can really see you and when his eyes trail down, he inhales sharply and looks away.

“You’re not gonna believe this,” He says, covering his mouth with his free hand. 

“What? Did I get ugly? Do I look like you?” You ask, genuinely concerned as you pat your face but calm down when you feel your features. 

“Worse,” He grins and reaches around to grab your newly formed tail. “You really are Okumura now!” You shout, tugging at the tail only to wince because it’s connected to you. It only makes him laugh harder and you shout again, shaking him.

“This is not funny!” You tell him and then pause. “Thhhis,” You repeat and then cover your mouth. His eyebrows raise and, to his credit, he stops laughing. At least until you remove your hand and open your mouth, showing off the newly formed sharp canines. He barks a laugh and then pushes your hair away from your ear and you watch in horror as he spins on his heel to hide his expression. 

“You two okay down there?” Dick shouts from the top of the manhole.

“Fine!” Tim replies through his laugh. 

“That was one voice!”

“Fine!” You reply, even though you’re freaking out as your fingers trace over the suddenly sharp ears on your head. 

“I'm cursed!” You cry, dropping your head onto Tim’s shoulder, your ear nearly poking him in the eye. “This is your fault.” Pushing him away, you pick up your sword from the floor and resheath it with ease. “Never trust a hero,” You grunt, rushing over to the manhole.

“My fault?” He echos, following you out of the manhole. 

“You called me into your freaky city!” Climbing to the top of the manhole, you sit and kick his face. Not too hard, though. He shouts, holding his nose with one hand and the railing with the other. Standing up, you redo your hair over your ears and try to stuff the tail into your pants but it swings wildly and then wraps around something that’s behind you. 

When you look at what it was holding, you find it’s wrapped around Tim’s hand, helping him out of the manhole. 

“I think it likes you,” You grin despite yourself. 

“So, you like the tail?” He asks, checking his nose through the reflective metal of his staff. Thankfully his nose wasn’t broken, but it was throbbing in pain. Red on the end and he’s rubbing it with his free hand. You shrug, crossing your arms. 

“If it holds you like that,” Winking, he rolls his eyes under the mask and looks over at his family. Your eyes follow and you check your phone; there are no texts from anyone but you pretend that there are. 

“Wow, glad we settled that then.” He hums, smiling at you. 

“Mhmm, well, bye!” 

“Wait—“ He grabs the tail as you’re walking away and you grunt, eyes wide as you turn to look at him. Your eyes dart to and from the tail, watching as his fingers absentmindedly play with the soft furs on the end. “Stay for dinner, you did say I owed you.” When you first met, you’d gotten a glorious dinner and he ran into you, spilling it right into a sewer drain. You still think about that day and get upset. 

“Is it…” You cringe as you can’t find the right word. “American food?” He chuckles, remembering the countless videos you’ve sent him with angry and crying emojis. Hotdogs in jello, white bread soaked in water, mashed potatoes made out of potato chips, and boiled plain, unseasoned chicken with unwashed white rice.

“It’s not the American food you sent me.” He promises. “It’s good, I like it.” Your face scrunches as that’s not much to go off of; the man drinks Monster Energy’s like it's water. You’re sure it’s melted off his taste buds at this point.

“But you also like the vending machine cakes.” 

“It was good.” He defends. “But this is really good, trust me?”

“I wasn’t invited by B,” You glance over at the scowling Batman and glare back. Tim grabs your face, turning you to look back at him. You smile at him in a way that makes his stomach flutter and he clears his throat, dropping his hand. 

“Ugh! B, can he stay for dinner?” He asks, pressing his finger against his earpiece. 

“No.”

“He said yes,” He smiles and you struggle to still say no to him.

“I have to speak to the council about this—“ You gesture to your newly formed tail and ears. “Raincheck.”

Tim sighs but relents. 

“We’ll make your favorite next time; as a thank you.” He promises and you nod, waving before jogging up to a random door. The team watches as you pull out the keys and open the door, showing the headquarters of the council you work for. You wave again, your tail waving along before the door closes. 

“Better than Constantine,” Jason says as he looks at the ash on the ground. 

—

“That skirt does not go with that shirt,” Damian stops at Tim’s door, blinking at the oak door as Tim laughs. “I regret buying you VIP and custom makeup,” Now, Damian’s no idiot. He has friends and Jon, much to his chagrin, has gotten him into Roblox. So he knows very well that Tim is talking about Dress to Impress. 

“What? It looks cute!” Another voice defends, a voice that isn’t one he’s familiar with. He’d assumed Tim was talking to Kon, maybe Bart, or even himself. “You’re the one wearing a neon green fur hat when the theme is Victorian!” Carefully, he grabs onto the brass doorknob, pressing his other hand to the door and slowly turns it. 

“It’s camp,” Tim replies. He’s sitting on his bed with his legs crossed and laptop perched between them. Regrettably, he’s in an old band t-shirt and sweats; not company attire Damian would later remark. Across from him, sitting with their back to the door, Damian stares at the dangling sword earrings and then the tattered Eastern Youth shirt overtop a pair of leather pants. But his focus is on the tail swishing back and forth. 

“It’s ugly, just like your face,” You remark. Tim smiles, still looking down at his laptop, and moves his leg to kick you. You grab his ankle before he can and extend his leg, tossing your own over it. He shifts so both his legs are out and you naturally sit with your legs intertwined. 

Damian turns his nose up and leaves the room, the door softly locking behind him. 

“Pretty sure you weren’t saying that earlier,” Tim chides after the door had closed, watching as Damian’s footsteps leave from his door. 

“I did,” You hum, showing how you’d gotten first place and he’d gotten dead last. He rolls his eyes, leaves the game, and turns off your iPad. Next time he’ll just rig the game, clearly, the lobby didn’t understand his vision. 

“You should stay for dinner,” Your face contorts at the idea and you scoot closer to him until your ankles reach his back and his knees are at your ribs. “They’re not bad, not right now, at least.” He adds, messing with your studded belt. 

“I don’t like heroes, Tim,” You remind him. He frowns, eyes meeting your own. “And Bruce definitely will not welcome me after the curse,” Right, the whole demon curse. His eyes move to your tail that’s now wrapping around his left leg, the soft hairs brushing against his calf. While you’re not wrong, Bruce would have a heart attack if Tim was caught letting a demon (it's temporary, the council assured you) inside his house. 

“Fuck what Bruce has to say; I have my place! I run the company now, too,” He shrugs. 

“So why are we at the manor?” You tilt your head and he shrugs again. 

“Alfred offered to make my favorite for dinner because I haven’t visited since the whole demon thing.” You tut, leaning forward so your head rests on his chest. He looks at your awkwardly folded pose and pushes your legs. Getting the hint, you lift yourself and fold your legs underneath you. He lays his head on top of yours, using his phone behind your back. 

The two of you sit in silence until your legs go numb and you turn around, now watching as he scrolls through his socials. He shifts so one arm holds you close and locks his legs over yours while you hold his hand. 

Now, despite how it may look, you and Tim were not in a relationship. Nearly, you’ll both admit that much. But nothing that ever surpassed longing glances and touching that lasted far too long for the two of you to simply be friends. 

And that was for one simple reason.

Tim was a hero. 

You don’t hate heroes, simply a strong dislike towards them. For a multitude of reasons, enough for a twenty-page paper. Tim would know, he had you make one when you first rejected him. You don’t really trust them, all of them except for Tim. And maybe his strange friend Kon, but that’s about it. All of the rest can leave you the hell alone. 

Your phone buzzes and you spare it a glance; a call from your superior. 

“I gotta go,” You tell him but make no move to leave. He just hums, still scrolling on his phone. “There’s probably an attack and I’m needed.”

“That’s crazy,” He mutters, showing you a video of a cat lying down in an empty fishbowl. 

“And Alfred will probably come up soon,” The time is around when dinner is usually ready.

“Probably,” He agrees. Your phone starts ringing again and you stare at it. 

“I really should be going,” 

“You really shouldn’t.” He drops his phone to hold you with both arms.

“I’ll get in trouble,” You look up at him and he just blinks. “They’ll take my keys away.” He relents and lets you stand but you don’t move. He raises an eyebrow and you smile before flicking him with your tail and getting up. 

He spluttered at the hairs, wiping his mouth as you shoved your feet into your boots. 

“See you,” You wave before opening his bedroom door to your boss's room. He sees the woman sitting on the edge of her desk, dangling her phone. She sees him and you quickly shut the door. 

Flopping onto his back, Tim runs his hands down his face and stares at the ceiling. He rolls over and looks down at your iPad, deciding he’ll just keep it until you notice it’s gone.

—

“Still have an issue with me being a hero?” Tim asks as you’re cooking in his apartment. You’re making breakfast for dinner, considering he’d come back at three in the morning and you’d skipped breakfast in favor of dealing with some demons terrorizing school.

“Yes, Tim.” You reply, setting a third pancake onto the plate. He leans against your back, staring at the side of your face while making sure to be careful of your sharp ear. Your tail pulls him closer and he snickers. “The tail has nothing to do with me,” You grumble, side-glancing at him. 

“Even if I say pretty please?” He bats his long eyelashes, making sure that they tickle your face. 

“You’re making a very convincing argument,” You laugh, pushing his face away. With a small snicker, he pulls his face and adjusts his grip on you. Tim sighs into your shoulder and then steals a piece of bacon, narrowly avoiding the slap from the spatula.

“Can I just be the one hero you like?” He hops onto the counter, watching as you continue to cook. 

“You already are,” You watch from the corner of your eye as he flicks his hair out of his face, studying you. He watches you for another minute or two, offering up forks when it’s time to plate the food. He’s clearly thinking as he pours the cups of juice, smiling while he jumps back on the counter before he eventually speaks up. 

“Can I take you on a date, then?” He asks, eyes flickering from the last pancake to your face. Pausing mid-flip, you shrug. Taking a moment to think about it, Tim watches as your tail slowly moves side to side before it settles on the back of the couch.

“It would be faster if you just kissed me, if I’m being honest.” You chuckle and his eyebrows raise. 

“You’re telling me all of this could’ve been avoided with… a kiss?” He slowly asks and you nod, turning the fire off and then moving to be in front of him. He reaches for you, his fingers curling under your jaw as you stare up at him. Opening his legs, you sit between them and mess with the hair around his face. 

“I just wanted to see some initiative,” You hum and he rolls his eyes before crashing his lips into yours.

[dewdr0pz]

💜 Oh, Distant You. 💜

Summary: Tommy asked what happened between you two.

a/n: hello! i was in the mood to make a short angsty fic, so i present this to all of you! this was (obviously) based on "Oh Distant You"

contains: angst, a break-up with you & Wilbur, crying, flashbacks, cursing, a cliffhanger ending, mentions of presumed death, the reader is said to have had mental health issues in the past, & mentions of suicide.

words: 651

tags:@zuuriell @somebody-v @vibestillaxxx @ax-y10 @joviepog@themonsterunderurmom @ogelizasoot @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza@artistphantom @lexx-the-gay-rubber-ducky @finleyforevermore @poraphia @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @mysticalsoot @21-cats-in-a-trenchcoat @strangleetomz (let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged)

[Wilbur's {3rd person} POV]

Tommy had invited Wilbur to his house for an "intervention". He'd been locking himself in his apartment for days without messaging or calling anybody, streaming, or going to the studio. The Lovejoy members called him & messaged him uncountable times, but he never responded. Some of his friends thought he had killed himself. Nobody had heard from Y/N, either; they were an active streamer, usually streaming twice or thrice a week, but they hadn't streamed for two weeks. Y/N wasn't on tour with their band, either, & hadn't announced a break, so it worried Y/N's followers & fans.

"What's going on with you?" Tommy asked him. "Nobody's heard from you or Y/N in a few weeks. Did you two have a secret wedding & a honeymoon without telling anybody?" While the light-hearted joke was obviously intended to make Wilbur feel better, it just made him feel worse.

"We broke up, Tommy," he murmured, covering his eyes with his hand.

"You what?" Tommy raised his brow, not hearing Wilbur correctly.

"We broke up, Tommy," Wilbur repeated, louder this time.

Tommy was shocked. "I thought everything was good between you two! Why did they dump you?"

"I dumped them, Tommy," Wilbur said shakily, holding back tears.

"Why the fuck did you do that?" Tommy asked.

"Because I'm an idiot, Tommy, that's why!" Wilbur shouted, removing his hand away from his now red & glossy eyes. "Because I'm an idiot who thought prioritizing my music & my career over them was the better option! & they could be dead right now, for all I know! Their mental state was terrible when I broke up with them, so for all I know, they could be hanging from a noose right now, dead as a motherfucking doorknob."

"Woah, woah, woah, Wil, take a breath," Tommy said, his eyes wide from how Wilbur reacted. "Tell me what happened."

"I just--I got in over my head & started panicking & being an anxious idiot like how I was when I was a kid & I thought that my career & my band needed to be prioritized over them," Wilbur explained shakily.

"Why did you think that?" Tommy asked.

"Because I thought my career was better than them," he said softly.

"Is your career better than being with them?" Tommy asked, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"God, no, Tommy," Wilbur said with a catch in his throat. "I hate the way I talk when I'm trying to compliment or praise them because it'll never give off the praised esteem they have. They're two stars from grace & I'm convinced that this world turns for them & nobody else." He paused. "No offense, Tommy."

"Were you looking for somebody better or--" Tommy started.

"If the Lord or the universe or whoever fucking controls everything were to whip up a clone of them," said Wilbur, "I wouldn't even glance at it, so, no, Tommy. & if I did date that clone, I'd have to take a month off work & everything to sit down in the kitchen, & explain all our in-jokes, & cry with them to Wall-E, & still, I'd fuckin' miss Y/N."

"So you regret it all?" Tommy asked.

"Of course I do!" he exclaimed. "I thought I was creating the solution to their problems, that I was being the fix-all, but I was just the villain. & every single modicum of energy that I gave to all the little things compounded all my placidity, & I drove out all the good things & made life so fuckin' heavy, & now I can't wake up & talk to them." He was crying at this point, having to pause a few times to calm himself down.

Tommy held his phone up & pointed at the screen. He was on a call. He was on call with Y/N. He had been this whole time.

"Hi, Wilbur."

reblogs > likes

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite: Millie

Okay, i dropped my phone in water and was so scared i'd ruined it, but thank the gods it was fine. Though it's fucked so i'm going to post all the IMP redesigns in short order before it dies and i lose them forever. Onto Millie!

I wanted Millie to read as a country girl. I remember being like ‘oh, that’s her voice?’ when I watched the first episode, because for some reason it just didn’t match her design for me. I considered giving her back the white splotch in her hair, but decided to change imps and give fem imps white horns. I’ve got two guesses for why it was removed: 1) she was originally trans and it was changed 2) the dimorphism of imps was thought of after the pilot. Either way, I like it. I suppose the explanation for this version since her horns are fem is she might have been born intersex?

I wanted her and Moxxie to contrast in their designs, as such she’s wearing less while he’s fully covered, she’s tall he’s short, etc... Now, as a Wrath imp, she has a darker skin tone and has spikes on her body.

Now, as a character, i'll build off of what the show has given us.

Supposedly Millie is secretly very insecure? From leaks she’s like willing to die because she thinks she’s holding Moxxie back and in Unhappy Campers she had that whole breakdown. Now, I think this actually could’ve been built up a bit.  

In the rewrite, Millie is the youngest of her five siblings and the second girl. Now, from the bat lets make her a bit of a drain on the family. They hadn’t planned for her birth, and it was another child her parents had to take care of with limited money. She picked up on this when she was little, realizing that her parents often cut corners and struggle, and she perceives this as her fault. This ties into how she mentions her family going to Loo Loo Land, except in this it was once and was specifically for her birthday. She knows her parents had saved up for months to afford the trip and feels innate guilt for it. Boom insecurity explained. 

Now, in this Millie meets Blitzo first. They bump into one another once Millie moves away from the Wrath Ring to Pride to try and alleviate her parents’ stress. During this time Millie has been working as an assassin for a couple months and ends up bumping into Blitzo who was hired by a different person to kill the same target. This would be during Blitzo’s attempt to start his business in hell killing demons. They fight for a bit, then realize ‘oh wait... let’s work together!’ so Millie was the first to join IMP. 

Millie trains endlessly. When she isn’t doing her job, she’s at the gym. She is constantly striving to be the best because her parents pitted her and her siblings against one another (unknowingly, with things like the harvest festival). As a person she is very observant and emotionally intelligent. She is very kind and loves conversation. She also is very tight with money, and very appreciative of any gifts she receives because she grew up with little. She treasures things genuinely and is just all around a very genuine girl. 

Now, other than fighting, she is fairly mediocre at anything else, due to the culture of Wrath mainly being kill or be killed and you have to be tough. One hobby and talent she does have and is working on is singing, something she shares with Moxxie and works as something they can do together. Millie loves to play guitar and sing and is constantly striving to improve. On the topic of Moxxie, Millie loves him deeply and wants only the best for him and some part of her feels like she isn’t enough. 

All around I want this Millie to come off as a very confident and genuine person, trying her best to push down the deep feeling within her that she is a drain on everyone around her. So when people start showing her with praise rather than screaming in agony she is enthralled. She loves the cheers of crowds, as it was often Sallie Mae getting cheered on during the Harvest Moon Festival while Millie was always second best. She wants that kind of adoration and acknowledgement. 

That’s it. Gotta work on finishing Blitzo and Moxxie rn

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Bronze

@wolfstarmicrofic August 8, word count 662

Previous part First Jegulus part

Sirius sunk into their new sofa and seriously contemplated packing in the café altogether just so he could spend all day cocooned on this little bit of luxury. That was until James came barrelling in the front door with a glitter-covered gift bag. 

“No, no, no, no!” Sirius screeched when James plonked it down on the cushion and rainbow glitter showered from the bag and imbedded itself in the ridiculously soft fabric. “Remus!” He pleaded as he started to hyperventilate. Remus carefully picked up the bag and deposited it on top of one of their bills on the coffee table before grabbing the handheld hoover from the coat cupboard. Sirius didn’t think he breathed properly until every spot of glitter was diligently removed by Remus. “James Fleamont Potter, are you actively trying to kill me or have you been drinking again?” James looked at him confusedly. 

“Erm, what?”

“Brand new sofa!” Sirius pointed at the sofa. “Fairy dust from the pits of hell!” He pointed at the gift bag twinkling innocently on the coffee table. 

“What, it’s only glitter. I thought you liked sparkly things,” James held out his hands, not understanding where Sirius's rage was coming from. 

“Sweetheart, I think you’re forgetting that not everyone hates glitter the way you do and that the bag does in fact hold a gift,” Remus said gently as he stroked the back of Sirius’s neck, attempting to calm him down. 

“Shit, sorry James, it’s just a pet peeve of mine. That shit gets everywhere, and it just keeps popping up even when you haven’t had glitter in your home for months. Thank you for the kind thought though,” He said a bit sheepishly. 

“No worries,” James brushed it off. Sirius loved how easy his best friend was, he never held grudges and could generally be won back with a slice of honeycomb cheesecake and a good cup of tea. 

Sirius carefully opened the top of the gift bag, trying hard not to wince when a cascade of glitter fell off the bag when the tape snapped. He took out the rectangular item wrapped in tissue paper and stepped away from the bag, lest he get any of the shiny demon microplastic disks on his clothing. 

He tugged at the small strip of tape and unwrapped the gift. It was a wooden plaque. He flipped it over and etched onto a bronze plate were the words ‘Howlin’ at the Moon, owned by Sirius O Black & Remus J Lupin.’ With the outline of a wolf howling up at the moon. “James,” He said in awe. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” He brushed his fingers across the lettering, tracing each letter. He spotted some odd dots beside the moon and when he looked closer he realised it was his constellation. “Canis Major,” He gasped, looking up at James. 

“I wanted it to be something really personal for you guys to put on the wall of the café as an opening gift. The wall was looking a little bare.” James beamed broadly at them. Sirius and Remus wrapped their friend in the tightest hug the two of them could give.

“You giant goofball, we love you. Can we go put it up now?” Sirius looked at Remus hoping he'd say yes. 

“That’s why I bought my drill with me,” James patted the end of the power drill poking out of his pocket. 

They walked over to the café, using the side entrance so no one would think they were open, and watched James expertly put up the plaque. They stood together and admired the shiny plaque for a while until it got too dark to see without the lights on and went home for a cheeky takeaway, kept well away from the new sofa. Sirius volunteered to take the rubbish out to the wheelie bin after they'd finished and were tidying up. He snatched that god's forsaken glitter monstrosity off the coffee table and threw it out as well. 

Next part

[shockinglysubmissive]

Confront Your Demons

For @nymphoheretic Confess your sins Collab.

Father!Touya x Father!Keigo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: blasphemy, sacrilege, non-con/abuse of power, use of 'Master', corruption, god complex, face smacking, body inspection, face fucking, unprotected sex, degradation, threesome,

Word count: 3.1k

You enter the small confession booth, signing the cross and taking a deep breath. "Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been 2 months since my last confession." Your voice shakes slightly, hearing the breathing of the man next to you.

"What are you here to confess?" He asks, and from the voice alone, you are able to tell it belongs to one of the people causing you to sin. Father Keigo.

"I haven't been to mass in the last month. I have been skipping it willingly to avoid impure thoughts from coming back." You confess, hands fidgeting and picking at hang nails.

"Impure thoughts? Are you able to elaborate on that so we can get to the root of them?" He asks, voice soft and full of compassion.

"Since the new priests have started, I have not been able to keep my mind from wandering to dark places involving the two of them. I have been imagining them in ways that are shameful." You admit, cheeks burning hot as you admit it to one of the men you have been having these thoughts about.

"Say 10 Hail Mary's, and I would also advise you to come back to mass. God is the only one who will be able to show you the light to guide you away from the demons." Father Keigo advises, his voice soothing your anxiety.

-

''The pretty girl who used to sit in the front row confessed to wanting us both, and you didn't jump at the chance?" Father Touya questions later that night.

"That behavior is the exact reason why we had to be relocated. I actually like it here, and would like to stay. I am just glad I am the one who handled confessions this week, and not you. Who knows what kind of mess we would be in if you had been the one sitting on the other side of the wall from her." Father Keigo scolds, crossing his arms and looking up at the slightly taller man.

"Get off that high horse. You know you secretly want the same things I do. I am just not afraid to face my demons head on, while you like to run from them. Hail Mary's aren't going to fix her horny thoughts. If God didn't want people to get horny, he would have removed that desire from us humans. I think we should stop suppressing these feelings we were gifted, and embrace them. God made us all perfectly, right? And he made us all with this ability to get turned on. So it can't be a bad thing." Father Touya laughs, watching the way his companion squirms uncomfortably.

"The devil is the one creating those thoughts. They aren't right." He shakes his head, frowning as the cognitive dissonance starts creeping its way into his mind.

"Whatever you say Father Keigo. But that isn't what you were saying last time when I had you cumming on my cock." He shrugs, already concocting a trap for his week running the confession booth.

-

Only a week had passed, and you were heading back to confessions for the same sin. During mass, you couldn't keep your eyes off the veins in Father Kegio's hands, wondering how they would look roaming your body. Or how holy and pure Father Touya looked, with his snow white hair, and piercing blue eyes, how he was the most beautiful person you had seen. You couldn't focus on what scriptures were being read as your mind wandered to all the places the three of you could sneak off to for alone time.

Finally, it was your turn in the confession booth, and as you sign the cross, your senses are flooded with an intoxicating scent. The way Father Touya smells. "B-bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been... um... one week since my last confession." You stammer out, unsure if you can confess to him how you have been fantasizing about him.

“What sins have you committed?” Father Touya asks, far less formal than his counterpart.

“I have been having impure thoughts. And I am unsure of how to get rid of them. I tried praying, and distancing myself from the people I have been having these thoughts about. I tried confessing last week. But the thoughts only seem to be getting more… intense.” You confess, chewing the inside of your cheek as you wait for him to ask if there is more.

“Ah… seems like this demon has a strong hold on you. We might need to try some… unorthodox methods to help you. Private sessions to really confront what is making you have these thoughts. How does that sound?” He asks.

All logic is screaming no, but the lust clouds your logic quickly. He is the Father here. He only has your best interest at heart, right? He only wants to lead you back into the light, and away from temptation, right?

“You would be willing to do that, for me?” You ask, not caring if this breaks the rules of confession.

“Of course, I chose this life to bring the light to all those in need. Let me help you. Father Keigo and I will ensure that you face this demon, and return to the light with us. We will not let you stray into the darkness alone.” He assures you.

From the otherside of the wall, you are unable to see the twisted and wicked grin on the face of the white haired man.

“I accept. When will we have the first private session?” You ask, legs squeezing together at the thought of being alone with the two.

“How does tonight, after confessions, sound? We want to get started right away to help you.” He says, voice dripping with false compassion, only wanting to help himself. Since the first time his eyes met yours, he dreamed about the way you would look crying for him, pupils blown out with lust as he fucks you on every pew. The thought of your cum soaking the seats that all the pretentious stick-in-the-mud’s sit in every week makes his cock throb.

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you Father.” Your voice sounds like a choir of angels to him.

-

You pace around the empty lot across the street from your church, watching the final members leave. Impatience builds as the older members linger and chat for what feels like hours. When the last car leaves, you make your way to the old building, skipping in without being seen.

"Discard your clothes. Shed them like you want to shed the thoughts your God deems shameful." Father Touya instructs, leaning against the pew closest to you. "Make it fast, I don't like repeating myself, little lamb." His piercing blue eyes make your hands clam up, and you fumble with the buttons on your blouse.

"Keigo. Help her. It's a bit pathetic how nervous she is already." He rolls his eyes in mild annoyance at your nerves.

"I don't know if she's ready to confront her demons. Seems pretty scared. Maybe we should stop." Keigo defends you, setting a hand gently on your shoulder.

The pew creaks as Father Touya straightens up, striding over to the other man and grabbing his robes. He leans in close, ensuring the words he will speak stays between the two of them.

"We talked about this. You're either gonna help me fuck my little lamb, or I'm going to make you my dumb bitch, again." Father Touya growls in his ear, the hand not grabbing the robes reaching down to grab his slowly hardening cock. Smirking feeling the way his body reacts to him so easily, he steps back.

"Strip. It's time you be brave and face this." Father Keigo says simply, tearing your blouse and sending buttons flying.

He wastes no more time in removing your clothes, tearing whatever wouldn't remove easily. You are helpless to do anything beyond shrugging off the tattered fabric and leaving yourself exposed to the intense stare of Father Touya.

Father Touya revels in the power, watching his soon to be loyal servants obey him. How despite your fear and anxiety, you aren't leaving. You want this just as bad as he does.

You feel a mixture of shame and relief as Father Touya turns his back to you. Your arms wrap around yourself in an attempt to hide your body, fearing he didn't like what he was seeing. A loud thud causes you to jump, all previous thoughts leaving your mind. Father Touya dropping the kneeling pad on one of the pews has you interested in what he's planning.

"Come here little lamb." Father Touya's voice is firm, leaving you no room to argue or refuse. Your legs are moving towards the pew before your brain has time to figure out what he has in store for you.

You are pushed to kneel on the pad, your upper body draped over the back of the pew in front of you, and your hands resting on the seat to relieve the discomfort of the position. Any dignity you had held on to was gone as Father Touya lifts your hips higher, your knees barely on the kneeling pads. Almost all of your weight was balanced on the back of the pew, which was digging into your abdomen. Ass lifted high in the air, you can feel the soft breaths on your skin as he kneels behind you.

"Interesting. You shaved this pussy just for me." Father Touya presses a warm palm to your bare core. The tone in his voice made it seem as if he was talking to himself, and not to you. "Real pretty. Sensitive too." He speaks in a low voice as Father Keigo steps next to him. Your body reacts to the subtle sensation of his palm against you, a slight pulsing starting within you.

A faint whine leaves your lips as he removes his hand, a thin string of your slick connecting you both for a moment. You aren't even given the chance to speak, a tutting sound stopping any words from leaving your lips.

"What are you whining for? I haven't done anything yet. This is just checking to see how ready you are. And fuck. Looks like you're more than ready to hold my cock. Might even be ready to be my cumslut." Father Touya smirks, tapping your clit lightly and watching the way you squirm for him. Your head falls forward, trying to hide the way your face heats up at his words. "Keigo. Get in front of her. Don't let her hide." He says simply.

Keigo tangles his hand in your hair, lifting your head up to meet his gaze. "Can't face your demons hiding like that, don't worry. I'm right here." He says simply, giving you a soft smile.

"'m sorry Father..." You say in a small voice, trying to hold his eye contact as Father Touya shuffles behind you, removing his robes and unzipping his pants. You can't see him, but based on how heavy his cock feels while resting against your ass, you can tell he is big.

Father Touya presses his tip against you, groaning at the way you tighten around him the moment he enters you. You fight with yourself, wanting to both run away and save your purity, and to finally live the dreams you've been having.

"This what you wanted little lamb? All those fantasies your God told you to feel guilty for, is this one of them?" Father Touya asks, leaving no time for you to respond before pushing deeper into you. "Can't really be that wrong if it feels so good, now can it? Maybe your God is the one who is wrong. This pussy feels too good. This has to be heaven."

The stretch of his cock burns. You don't have the ability to answer. It hurts. But you don't want him to stop. You want to hear him praise you even more.

"Tell me. What is it that you dreamed about?" Father Touya lifts you up to press your back against his chest, burying himself fully into you, his tip kissing your cervix.

"It's embarrassing... God wouldn't approve of it..." Your voice cracks slightly as he settles deep inside you and not moving.

"You can't overcome your demons if you keep denying them." Father Keigo says simply, stepping forward to press his newly exposed chest against yours.

Father Touya gives no warning before pulling back and snapping quickly back into you, a loud moan falling from your lips and echoing through the empty room.

"Can't be more embarrassing than moaning like a whore in the middle of a church." He growls in your ear, hips shifting trying to find the spot inside you that makes your toes curl. His lips twist into a smile when your whole body shudders when he hits the spongy spot he was looking for.

"I want your cum. Both of you. In me. On me. I don't care. I just want it however I can have it." You beg, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before guilt over comes you. "God will never forgive me. This is wrong. I'm going to hell." Your voice shakes, both with guilt and from the way Father Touya targets your sweet spot.

His cock pumps in and out of you with no remorse, the burning sensation fading quickly as your body begins to adjust to him. Maybe he was right, though. The way he was making you feel, how could any God make this a sin? This was the closest to God you have ever felt.

"Forget your old God. I'm your new God. Worship me. Praise the ground I walk on and I'll give your life meaning. Could your old God fill you with this much pleasure?" Father Touya grips your throat, slamming his hips harder against yours, pushing your body against Father Keigo.

"N-no father- ow!" Your eyes fly open as Father Keigo lands a solid slap to your face, bottom lip trembling from the stinging sensation spreading across your cheek. You were more shocked than anything, not expecting Father Keigo to strike you in such a way.

"You will address him correctly. He is your God. You will respect him as such." His long fingers grip your cheek and shove your head to turn and face the man currently fucking your cunt as if he really had made it just for himself. "Apologize to your God. Beg your master for forgiveness, bitch." He leans closer to your ear, nipping lightly at the shell of it.

"I'm sorry master, please forgive me." You try to see his face, your eyes and lips both pleading to be forgiven by the man... no... the god, your god, behind you.

"Mm... Master... I like the sound of that. Good job thinking of the Keigo. I say we give this little lamb here exactly what she was asking for moments ago." Touya slows his assault on your insides to pushes you forward. Leaning over the pew again, your face falls inches away from Keigo's groin.

Holding yourself up on your hands, you wiggle in frustration from the loss of stimulation.

"I don't know what I'm doing..." You admit, looking up at Keigo. His gentle smile falters slightly into a smirk.

"Well of course you don't. How about I show you just how I like it?" He asks, not waiting for you to answer before pulling himself from his pants and tapping his leaking tip against your lips.

Opening your mouth, you allow him to push into your mouth until he causes you to gag. Your head jerks back on reflex, but Touya's hand presses you further into Keigo's crotch, forcing him down your throat until your nose meet the curly blonde hair.

"Don't try to run from him. This is what you wanted after all. You won't get our cum unless you put in a bit of work." Touya says simply, dragging his cock agonizingly slow inside you. His slow movements easing you right to the edge of orgasm, but not enough to send you over.

Your gagging and choking continues before Keigo's hands replace Touya's. He allows you to pull back just enough to swallow a few gulps of air before fucking your throat.

You tighten hard around Touya, trying to convince him to speed up, but instead he buries himself in you, his balls settling against your swollen clit. Without the friction keeping you on the edge, you feel your orgasm fading away. A broken sob works its way around Keigo's shaft, sending vibrations all through his body.

"Whatever you are doing, don't stop. She feels amazing whining around me." Keigo groans out, sloppy thrusts causing a mixture of his precum and your drool to spill down onto the pew below you.

"Yeah? I think I can keep her whining." Touya smirks, pulling all but his tip from your messy hole.

Feeling empty was awful. Your body quickly becomes addicted to feeling full of your Master. Desperate sobs fall from your lips, but the sound is covered by the moans of Keigo as he fucks your throat with no remorse.

Behind you, you can feel Touya's hand brushing your lips as he strokes his shaft, not wanting his own orgasm to fade.

"Don't think I can last much longer. I need to fill my pussy with cum." Touya grunts out, hips bucking back into you as his cock twitches. Your body pushes back against him, silently begging for him to coat your insides.

A few more snaps of his hips, and Touya is cumming inside you, his tip nuzzled right against your cervix as he does. It is a strange, but pleasant feeling of being so full, your mind going blank. A rough finger presses against your clit, rubbing tight circles as your hips jerk in response.

"Think I am going to paints your pretty face." Keigo grunts out, pulling away just as ropes of cum shoot from his tip, covering your lips. Coming down from his high, he leans back against one of the pews.

Touya adjusts the pressure on your clit, and over the edge you fall, body giving out and collapsing against the pew. He doesn't stop until your legs are twitching, finally content. He stands up, moving to take his place next to Keigo in front of you.

"She really looks good like this. I think she should pray to her god just like this all the time. With one of our cum on her face, her brain spilling out between her thighs." Keigo says softly, watching in amusement as you struggle to regain thoughts.

Touya lifts your chin and gives you his first real smile. "We will take such good care of you, little lamb." He says softly.

Looking up at the two men, it becomes painfully clear. The bible had to be wrong about Satan being the most beautiful angel. You were staring at two who were far more beautiful.

[lol-jackles]

tumblr.com/lol-jackles/741426596160946176/

this is the post:

incarnateirony.tumblr.com/post/741037569962377216/im-a-complete-outsider-in-whatever-hell-is-going

If you're blocked this is the content:

Anonymous asked: I’m a complete outsider in whatever hell is going on here but I feel like you should let go of this person. Obsessing over them like this can’t be healthy

Goob: As a complete outsider, jump off a cliff. I’ve been getting harassed by her for three solid years, your tactic doesn’t work. This isn’t “obsession”. This is her getting the attention she’s been screaming for for three years while mind-raping me and using pictures of me for her sexual fetishes. Absolutely not. I stop when she dies.

If you don’t like it, fuck off, I will literally drag this bitch into the dirt after the three years of harassment she’s caused me in real life, online, multiple servers, fandoms and websites. Absolute rotten festering cunt. She was literally goddamn warned to stay off my dick, once every three months, for three fucking years, and she was still riding it and starting shit, so now I’m ending it. And the opinions of motherfucking people who care about me fucking up their fictional angel feed really do not fucking matter. She relies on weak ass opinions like this so she can keep on keeping on with her horse shit, and no, it’s over. You will literally have to ban me from the entire internet to make me stop before she dies or surrenders. It’s that simple. I am DONE.

I need you to comprehend I left this bitch three years ago, after she cheated, malignantly plotted to evict me to replace me with a new bf once she got her first check but let me pay the bills, and has since still absolutely stalked me everywhere anyway, invaded my servers, ripped off my face, my religious practices (badly), has been doing outright goddamn blasphemy, is grooming her friends into fetish roleplays using my fucking face, and she just invested SEVEN. GODDAMN. MONTHS. trying to invade YET ANOTHER FRIEND GROUP OF MINE to cause shit, and she got busted, and now her ass is on fire.

IT’S DONE. WE’RE DONE. THE MERCY IS GONE. SHE LETS US GO OR SHE DIES, IT’S THAT SIMPLE.

She wants me to be a demon, I’ll be a demon. She even signed to me. Moron.

Truly this woman was so obsessed she sat in a goddamn furry porn server for half a year trying to sniff out my friends and investors elsewhere. Like she was literally wailing trying to find the contact for one of my main business investors. To start more shit with, of course. Sis, that man let me do 13 billion dollars in damages to WB by proxy. He doesn’t care about your pissmoaning.

This isn’t “obsession”. This is me being tired of hers, and taking any means necessary to end the harassment I’ve been enduring on every possible front for literal years. Even if it means helping her remove herself from the planet and realizing what a service to humanity that is. I’m fuckin DONE. Like, literally, nothing of value would be lost. It’d actually be a net benefit because she’d stop scamming people with her octopus jibberish, plagiarized lines, and outright blasphemy of the god she claims but refuses to read the doctrine of and teaches contrary to.

She truly feels special cuz she can bullshit up some vague horse shit about someone’s grandma to make them feel better then writes retroactive dreams, like the one that only prophecized to her that she was about to get her cheeks clapped, after she got clapped, but she swears she had a vision dream that morning. ok. the other seven months?

Like the whore is even posing right now writing her fanfiction like it’s proof of something compared to my statistics. Yeah I too can shit out narrative horse shit, Shealyn. That doesn’t make you a mystic. She’s basically charging people for her obsession with me, her roleplay fetish, her schizophrenia and a big fat bucket of blasphemy she’ll rot in the void for. And drag some nice little practicing christians with her.

Am I christian? No. But I respect the texts enough to know what she’s doing is deeply fucking these people up. Like, they’re neither following Hermes nor Yahweh’s doctrine, they’re just following whatever octopus jibberish horse shit she hallucinates. It’s literally a cult. A cult she groomed into humping a copy of my face. Like a psychopath.

And no, that’s not the hyperbolic internet use of cult. It is the literal definition of a cult, wherein no classic doctrine is used, but rather the singular teachings of someone that generally revises other practices, and grooms them out of actually reading anything outside of it and, in this case, into humping pictures of me.

You, too, would be flipping shit if your cheating ex wife was convincing people to basically mindrape you while lying about whatever god or doctrine you follow just to try to copy you. And that’s BEFORE the trying to fuck with every friend group I have and my business. For three. Years. And that says nothing about her refusing to look in the face that she channeled motherfucking anime octopus jibberish trying to copy an inside joke. I use “channel” here loosely, obviously. Truly the most horrific skank I’ve had the displeasure of dealing with. Makes Vinnie and Kelios look like saints. And models. At least they’re under the 300 lb threshold and are open about their delusions being about fictional horse shit. They don’t even CHARGE for us to hear them spread their shit.

Trump deserves life more than this creature. At least I believe he’s genuinely retarded. She only acts this dumb, but it’s a conscious way she makes up for her own insecurities, and it’s by lying her way through to try to look divine. She doesn’t doesn’t care what it does to everyone around her. So yeah. Trump is more human than this creature. And, somehow, in better shape.

So yeah, fuck off. She has till September for part one, until 2027 for part two, until 2033 for part three, and the void beyond that for the rest of her penalties, but for right now, you can sit and spin on part one.

But you know, I think that’s fine by her. She’s too coward to end it herself but already experienced soul death and knows it, hence her refusal to build any actual identity. She’s just a sweaty meatsuit over there now going through the motions, I’m pretty sure she wants the void. Don’t worry bertha, they just have to widen the gate a little bit

well that and he realized you actually do want to die, I think, which is why he specifically opted for the “troll you until you do it yourself” route starting yesterday. Sorry Shea, he refuses to let you warp forcing him to reap you into something you can try to spin as a romantic gesture in hell. Like, he’s pretty sure you’re just waiting to grope him then too. Get away from us, you lying schizo slut.

THE OCTOPUS WAS NEVER FUCKING DIVINE, SHEA. YOU DID NOT CHANNEL THE FUCKING OCTOPESE.

Whoa, Goob is admitting that he will actively assist-suicide his ex-wife her by "helping her remove herself from the planet and realizing what a service to humanity that is." I hope the ex is screenshotting all of this gold.

I'll write a lengthier reaction in the next post to save space. Meanwhile in reference to Goob's Trump mention...

Even Newsweek agreed.

[papirouge]

Are hamas demonic for provoking and maintaining a conflict that could end tomorrow if they resigned from power releasing all hostages or how about neighbouring arab states are they also demonic for not accepting fleeing palestinians? responsibility for palestine's wellbeing is placed on hamas and hamas alone this is the result

Thank you for proving exactly what I said abt you being the Hamas biggest fans by how you basically need them to remove from yourself any responsibility. Hamas being demonic doesn't remove Israel own demonic evilness the slightest. At least, the Hamas doesn't claim being "god chosen people" while committing heinous crimes, which is an insult to the God that I personally serve.

And no, it's not Hamas responsibility that Israel is willingly starving and bombing civilians while we're talking. Israel could literally stop this massacre right now regardless of whatever Hamas does. It takes 2 to tango and you can't blame the Hamas "maintaining this war" when Israel actively participated in the escalation of this conflict for months, now.

To keep up my previous metaphor, SWAT teams don't bomb entire building where hostages are held along their kidnappers, and then shift the blame onto them saying "they only had to resign and release all hostages 🤪". There's no point to pull out this defense because EVERYONE IS DEAD and this wouldn't make them look any less guilty and vile.

Those Arabs states don't have to deal with Palestinians that Israel forcefully deported. Why would they? Because they're Arabs? are you a racial tribalist bio essentialist who thinks belonging to the same race and/or sharing the same faith means unconditional support and solidarity? Have you seen Europe History? all White and Christians murdering and deporting each others for CENTURIES.

You guys have to stop feeling entitled to have foreign countries deal with a problem that YOU caused. Palestinians have their land and YOU decided to displace them over a degenerate fanatical agenda - YOU have to find a way to deal with it within your own borders. Stop trying to make it everyone's problem. Last time I checked, Israel didn't ask for those Arab countries when they decided to deport Palestinians ; now Israel has to deal with the consequences of this decision the same way - alone.

Also it's funny how you have the same talking points as antisemites who also LOVE reminding everyone how nobody wanted Jews in their countries to prove that Jewish were undesirable anywhere in the world and that there had to be something wrong with them. Never beat the Nazi accusations.

And btw if Israel really wanted to bring back hostages maybe they didn't carpet bombed entire cities. Rumors are starting circulating that Israel is guilty of murdering their own hostages by its own blind brutality, and hides it from the population so that it doesn't turn against the government. Truth will always come out. And you won't be able to blame the Hamas this time.

[amaiguri]

The First Demon—Zalathiel Paralogue

I guess I'm on a writing-sharing kick so here is literally the best thing I've ever written, in my opinion. It perfectly encapsulates my taste right now. I like it so much, I keep trying to write everything else like it -- the problem is, it doesn't WORK with everything else. And also, it's a middle chapter of like a 150k word story. But who knows? Maybe you'll pick it up from context...

What follows is a first-person retrospective piece on the childhood of the current Inquisitor-General, Zalathiel Kalespari.

(Zalathiel, Acting-Inquisitor General) My half-sister, Tsinavi, never suffered the first Demon of children’s cruelty: ostracism. She was largely beloved yet she still was the strange type of girl to appear in your closet one day unannounced. The little moth hung by her knees from the coat rack in my new office — reading my less-classified reports with her golden locks hanging like wings and a red apron covering her face. God only knows how she got into all these places but I’d have Saravanya check my office later.

Za: Tsinavi, what are you doing here?

Tsi: Bored.

A perfectly average response from her.

Za: Tsi—

Tsi: No.

She knew I was going to tell her to get on a train and go home. But with both Chetiel and I in Telethens, there was little chance of even bribing her to spend the fortnight returning to Zavlakya.

Za: Tsi, please — father is going to chew me out for this.

Tsi: Pfttt, sounds like your problem!

I sighed. She was at the age where she was no longer required to attend school nor stay in her home city — but instead of taking the time to apprentice herself somewhere, she had doggedly followed Chetiel and I everywhere. On occasion, we found her in disciplinary centers for trespassing. The trespassing had declined in recent months — or rather, the arrests had.

Za: Don’t you have training programs to apply to?

Tsi: I told you, I can’t! I don’t know what I’m supposed to be the best at yet.

Za: You’re fourteen. You’re not gonna know unless you try things.

Tsi: I am trying things.

Za: Reading my confidential files isn’t “trying things”, Tsi.

Tsi: Okay.

Za: …You’re not listening.

Tsi: Nope!

I trusted her implicitly but I did not trust her ability to stave off the mental effects of demons. I removed her unceremoniously from my coat rack, retrieved my classified documents, and returned her to the floor. She tried to bite my ankle but I stepped over her.

When I was her age, I still suffered a military school education. Father, the fool that he was, insisted that both my brother, Chetiel, and I go to “uphold the family legacy” or some such nonsense. And Mother (not Tsi’s mother) was a double agent for the North — and when she found out I knew, she heard no arguments against it. Chetiel hated it. He snuck out to the Theatre every week to lounge backstage at punk operas and endear himself to the skinny-legged producer. And I was much stupider back then — I hadn’t cultivated the kind of demeanor people trusted. You see, I made the mistake of thinking the Aftokratoria was truly a meritocracy — that my peers, literal children, would hear my astute observations and witty repartee and swoon. My brother — perhaps by virtue of being minutes older than I — entertained no such illusions. I suppose he’d learned to hide our unusual Thuillean accents sooner, and he made all our friends on my behalf. I, unfortunately, made monsters of them.

Tsi groaned and rolled across the floor, before she crawled into a chair at last. Once in it, she sat properly — like a goblin who pretended to know how to portray a “girl.”

Ts: Fine. Give me better advice. How did you know what you were best at?

Za: You know this is a flawed approach to making life decisions, yes?

Tsi: Answer the question!

Za: There was a pretty girl and I decided I wanted to follow her.

I first met Nesa after an alleged-Demon murdered one of the students on campus. She and her mentor came and spoke to our class about the signs of Demons — mismatched eye-colors, inhumanly smooth voices, striking beauty, and staring for too long without blinking. Nesa was stunning and she displayed all of them.

Tsinavi disapproved of this answer.

Ts: Why did you make a life decision about a girl you weren’t dating?

Za: I don’t recommend it, but I’m sure you’ll have more empathy for it when you’re older.

She pouted and kicked my chair leg.

Ts: Why can’t I follow you?

Za: Most Inquisitors get recruited very young, Tsi. Most have killed their first Demon by your age.

Ts: You were older!

Za: I was not — they just didn’t know about my first Demon. I killed one of the children the Bloodsmith turned.

Ts: Oh. Well, then I’ll go kill a Demon!

Za: If I let you go Demon hunting, Father will kill me.

Ts: Pfft, but he couldn’t though…

I permitted myself to snicker. I shared our disdain for father but he actually liked her. I hoped she would continue to leverage his generosity and position as the former Lead Intelligence Officer for the Northern Campaign to get herself into a field which would sufficiently challenge her.

Za: Fine. I will give you a task to see if you even like Inquisiting. Consider it your tryout.

Ts: Really?

Za: Apprentice yourself to Senator Diacaius Praefori and hide your connection to me as much as possible. If you can do it, I’ll let you in.

He didn’t take apprentices — he only took those with formal political philosophy training as assistants whom he would later promote. Never apprentices. But if anyone could convince him otherwise, it was Tsi.

Ts: If he’s actually as smart as they say, then he’ll know I’m the best possible candidate he could have as an apprentice.

I smiled. This was exactly the sort of arrogance I had as a child — and exactly the sort of excessive honesty that ruined my classmates’ opinions of me. A week on the Zavlakihk Docks fixed me right up — enough to charm even Nesa — but as I child, I had held honesty and wit equivalent to charisma.

I once told an upperclassman — Svyet, I think he was named — that he was the sort of person who could name every type of armbar, but could not name one time his mother was proud of him. I wasn’t wrong. He laughed it off, of course — to exude enmity would be to expose vulnerability afore his mindless… posse. He made some comment to the effect of, “You wouldn’t be saying that if Chetiel wasn’t here” which was markedly untrue, but he didn’t know that. And lack of information was always the most dangerous place to be for a Demon-hunter.

Za: Tsi, if you’re going to do this, take it seriously. Observe your target to draw out their weaknesses — do not assume your current strategy will work because you are strong.

Ts: Senator Diacaius is a big softie for little girls. Look how many daughters he has. And he’s never claimed his sons! He’ll love me.

She wasn’t wrong.

Za: On second thought, maybe I’ll pay him a visit too…

Ts: Pfft, he won’t like you!

Za: …No. But his daughter might.

Ts: What, the Burned Maiden of Thuille? She’ll take one look at you and hate you! I don’t buy any of that “symbol of the peace” horse doodoo!

I shook my head. There was a lot of intelligence on her — a concerning amount, in fact, one might call it “obsession.” From what I could tell, she was a scared little girl — good with a knife, and useless without. She would take to any genuine kindness like a Demon to blood.

Za: Of course, because she isn’t a symbol at all. She’s a person — and people are easy, if you know how to use them. You are not ready for that, Tsi.

My brother stole out to the Theatre one night and I had to provide an alibi. He knew how to use people. We weren’t allowed to leave the school at the time, so I attended a dorm party masquerading as him — but I also left early to “help my brother study.” Those sorts of meaningless social functions exhausted me and the weather was horrid. I just wanted to be home with a cup of tea and a good physics codex.

When I emerged from the throng of the crowd, a gang followed me. I led them somewhere nice and secluded — just for Svyet and his corteges. They craved the blood of the frail, awkward little brother who scored one point above his more popular brother on everything. Who was I to deny them?

They could have easily killed me with overwhelming numbers and physical superiority. They did push me over. One gashed my forearm with a nail. Then, Svyet did some grandstanding and told me to apologize — the rain haloing his form like some seabeast rising through the storm.

But I knew a thing or two about theatre from my brother’s secret ravings; I smashed a rock through the nearest window for the glass and I pointed to the longest shard in the bottom rail. I told him to apologize first — stick his neck on the shard and I’d forgive him.

They balked.

“Svyet, it seems it won’t just be your mother who thinks you’re pathetic… Can’t even beat up one underclassman on your own? You need a whole centurion to do it for you?”

People are simple. They all don masks and classifications, but the minute the curtain’s down, the masks come off. Svyet was not a secure person who laughed off insults and bantered back — he was a narcissist and a bully and a disappointment to his parents. No one would miss him.

And no one did.

When he’d finished spilling his blood over the window, I turned to the other stunned, older boys. I told them this: “I have two simple commands:

“The first: You will not lay a hand on me or my brother again.

“The second: You will not tell anyone happened here. If you tell someone and I’m arrested, you will be not safe. I already have one of your heads; do not give me the others.”

My brother was furious. He demanded to know where I’d been and why my hands were in rags all night. I never admitted to anything, but I think Chetiel knew when the Inquisitors came looking for a Demon, they were looking for me.

[adventures-written]

;; @indevendent​​ || Continued from here.

It started with a letter. 

Normally he would receive letters from his parents, asks to come home, money, the works. It was always his mother sending these items to him. She was just as guilty as his father was when it came to the abuse, but she wanted her son back.

He always ignored those requests, generally burning the letters and giving the Dollars to some random person. He didn’t want their charity. He never needed it. There was a reason he left December and moved far away from his parents and he did not forgive them in the slightest.

But when he received a handwritten letter from his father claiming his mother was on her deathbed. Well, that wrenched him just a little bit. His father had always told him he no longer had a son after everything that he had been through. Especially when they found out his sexuality was far from what they wanted.

So when this detailed letter came from his father about his mother being deathly ill, maybe having months left to live, it left Bastian feeling conflicted. A part of him wanted to laugh and thank whatever God was out there for karma finally coming full circle. He would have burned the letter if he was heartless. But some part of him wanted to go and see her dying. Tell her to her face all the things he never could when he was younger. After all, he did run away without so much as a goodbye. He could finally tell her how he really felt before she croaked.

He had been open with Knives when he got the letter, explaining a little bit about the situation. He didn’t go into the full details, still cautious himself about revealing too much. He didn’t want Knives to think ill of him or put him in the same camp as he did most other humans.

Of course, he was against it from day one. He didn’t want him to go, but Bastian reassured him that it would be fine. He’d be back in no time and there was no need to worry.

Saying goodbye to his boyfriend was probably one of the hardest things he had done in a while. As much as he wanted Knives to come, it would only complicate things and it risked his demons being dug up to the man he loved. To someone who was already weary of humans. So he left Knives behind, and set off to December on his own.

He should have listened to Knives. 

When he arrived at his parents house, he was greeted with their bodyguard who removed any item from him that could be used as a weapon. Of course, this included his pistol. That was red flag number one, but at first he thought that his father might be paranoid his son would snap again and shoot him. The second red flag was the fact that his mother, alive and very much well, came running from the living room to hug him.

“Oh my dear Bastian!” she hummed, pulling him into a hug he did not want. His nose wrinkled at her perfume and he just stood there, not hugging back. “M..Mom..? I thought you were sick?” he asked, confused. “Oh let me have a look at you!” she stepped back to inspect him, looking him up and down, “Mm...You’ll need a haircut...and some new clothes, but you look well! It’s good to have you home!” She took him by the hand, completely ignoring his question as he was pulled to sit down.

The first day he let it slide. He gave them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his mother was trying to be strong and put on a show. That wasn’t unusual for her. She was always good at putting on a mask. It’s where Bastian learned it from.

The third day was when he knew something was wrong. He wasn’t allowed to leave the house without the family bodyguard. He couldn’t take his bag with him if he was leaving and he had a curfew. His parents were treating him like a teenager once again. He was in their house, under their rules. He couldn’t stand it.

It was that night that he learned their true intentions. No, his mother was not sick. In fact, their family was quite well off all things considered. The circumstances of this planet weren’t exactly lavishing. But they made their money in secrets and information, trading items of value for other precious items of value. They were very good at manipulating people. And manipulate they did. They brought him back to train him up. They felt he had enough acting out and that it was finally time to come home.

“Home?! This was never my home,” he growls at them, rising from his seat, “You can find someone else to manipulate and weave into your little family of lies because it won’t be me.” He tossed down his napkin and turned to leave. That was when the bodyguard blocked the way. “There was no choice here, Bastian...” his mother said calmly, taking a sip of her wine, “You do remember your incident? The one your father and I covered up..?”

Bastian’s hands clenched into tight fists, staring past the body guard. “What about it?” he asked, trying to stay calm. “Well, it would be a shame if your little radio show went downhill after the full story leaked, wouldn’t it? What was her name again....Oh! Yes, Emily Smith. She was...five? Yes, I think that your fans would get a kick out of a story like that. To find their host is a genuine monster...” He could hear the smug look on his mothers face as she stared into his soul.

“What do you even want from me?” he asked, turning towards her, “I don’t do the work that you and Richard do. So what would be the point of this manipulation?” “Richard?” she laughed, “Honey, that’s your father...And I’m not manipulating you. I’m merely helping you to realize that you need your parents. We’re your family, and family sticks together. Especially in this world we live in. We’d like to utilize your radio show. For our own information, of course. You’d have to do away with your horror themes...Perhaps the conspiracies could stay, but they would be items we want reported.” “And why would I do any of this for you, Isabella?” Bastian asked, making another point to use her name, “What if I’ve already come to terms with my past? It’s been so long, it won’t effect me.” “It won’t?” Isabella asked, quirking a brow and looking towards her husband, “Did you hear that? He will be just fine if the story gets out. Then I think we should contact Joseph at the December Daily --” “You wouldn’t,” he was trying to call her bluff. “And we should volunteer for an interview. After all, it was our poor, confused, and sick son who murdered a child in cold blood...” she was already putting on the water works. The fake crocodile tears Bastian would never forget.

Bastian let out a growl, his hands balled into tight fists. “Enough!”

What was he supposed to do? He was scared. He was a coward. He agreed.

In the coming weeks he attempted to send communication to Knives. He must have written over a dozen letters trying to explain everything to him, but they never came out quite right. When he finally did have a letter he was satisfied with, it was snatched from him and burned in the fire place. He was told if he tried to reach out to anyone then it would break their deal.

So Bastian struggled, trying to find his own way out of this mess while simultaneously playing a dangerous game with his other parents. True to form, they got him his own bodyguard. A young man named Daniel. He was nice enough at least, but he was still his babysitter.

He was out in the city with Daniel, finalizing what would become his broadcasting room at, wouldn’t you guess it? December Daily. Of course his parents had the popular news outlet under their thumb.

He couldn’t even focus on everything he was told. His mind just kept wandering, longing for Knives and wishing he had listened to him. He could only imagine what he was thinking with him not returning. A part of him was hoping he’d come to find him, but another part of him was scared to see him again with everything.

He was going to call him an idiot.

“Do you want some ice cream?” he looked back at Daniel. “I am on the clock, sir. I can’t have any of that...But please enjoy it for me,” he stated. “Aww, come on Danny! It’ll be fine. It’s not like Richard and Isabella will really care...” Bastian said, stepping up to the vendor for ice cream. Honestly, it was a distraction and stopped him from going back to what was, effectively, his prison.

[pysoch]

hey chat do y'all ever feel like posting angst that didn't make the cut into your book?

Here's a chapter I had to yank from Scarlet Fever because I realized it revealed too much about the character, but I'm proud of how it turned out. It's short because it didn't take me too long in a re-read to realize I couldn't really let this go out without the precursor, and it's far too much to ingest in one chapter. While not a spoiler (removed names, places, events, etc), you might understand metaphors or phrases in future chapters a lot quicker/easier! Person who guesses which character this is gets a gold star I think!

Quick head of warning, this was written on a particularly rough day. Some of this had heavy topics which I censored due to both Tumblr's lack of warning and censorship, and instead is replaced by terms one might think is immature. Please respect the writing decision as I don't feel comfortable letting terms I used in vulgarity out on a public platform.

Enjoy, huge TW for angst and pain

============

I hate how humans always desire what they can't have because it's starting to drive me insane. I'm in a constant climb to reach something that at the last moment is pummeled to ash and leaving me a dark husk who steps down from the rocky wall I scaled, shifting to the next.

My feet bleed, my hands have fresh calluses, I'm congested in one nostril, and sand keeps falling into my eyes. I have no harness so I fall and hit my spine against the cold earth as the wind is knocked out of me. Instead of resting against a stone, or giving up entirely, I force myself to my feet and grasp the jutting slab to force myself upwards and shakily plant my heel on the one below me. It slips, and I face a moment where my cheek is grazed by the cliff's nails and gifts me a ruby-colored gash.

After the sun beats on my skin another two hours, three days, four weeks, five months, or six years, I hoist my leg to the edge and see the chalice holding water I've been beating myself to drink for however long my spirit can hold it. That length is forever. I am incapable of giving in or letting the scurrying memories of the only people important to me bear on my back. It's been nearly four years since I've smiled at something without having to make my muscles tense up and provide the correct response to social charades.

When I reach my dirty hands out to the silver cup embezzled with welcoming designs and handles to make it easy I hold it to my lips and, in the definition of insanity, expect a different outcome from the previous hundred attempts to hydrate the ever-longing thirst. When it touches my lips, I can hear the small ripples of the sweet liquid inside it splash against the sides as it shifts position before placing itself inside my mouth. Like a magical transformation, or metamorphosis going backwards, its angelic taste and promises catches a glimpse of what disgusting demon is chaining it to a slaved task of providing comfort, and shifts into coarse miniscule stones that crunch to settle between the cracks of my teeth and open wounds from my dry tongue.

I place the cup down and let the mix fall out of my mouth and sift through my fingers into a small pile below my knees and above my courage. Jumping down would kill me and provide what I've been striving for, but it's a fool who throws his life to his God's feet and begs a reason. So I tug myself up and forward, brushing off soot to act like I'm alive once again.

This next wall provides a change. The portion of my life where for even a half second, I had a harness holding me. Five minutes given to me where I was secure and wouldn't have another welt on my skin from toppling. When I inevitably failed and hastily accepted anger flooding into my fall, I wouldn't hit the rocks and instead would feel air flow through my thighs in a tight squeeze of leather as I started back again from where I had made a mistake. Belaying me is a hazel-eyed girl with dark hair that matched. Nothing else on her face was made out of hazy shapes, but I could clearly see the fingers that shook a vibrant purple trying to carry my weight. The only time in nearly twenty years I truly had a sense of security who I knew would be there, holding the rope. She was beside my routine for several lapsed moments.

It was the seven-hundredth and eighty-first wall (the sixty-second I had done with her) when I felt a sudden slack in my rope. I had a wavered sense and looked back. Instead of the snaking coil beneath her ankle as she fed the thick cord through her thumb and index, beside her was her own arm; outstretched and holding it loosely. I tilted my head to see a sheen across her cheeks in small lines as her other hand outstretched towards me. I grasped it and tugged her closer towards me to be met with a halting squeeze. She returned my favor, and I hit the wall again, hardly feeling my fingertips as they caught any edge they could. I released her. She gave me a long look that nearly put me to the bottom, before my mind filled with the silver chalice and instinct for survival. I turned back, another palm to stone and heel to sleet. When checking my rope, it was instead drooping beside my waist instead of hanging up and through the iron hold. The snug feeling of fabric against my waist slowly lightened, the rope I felt for dropping down. The thuds of mass hitting the ground never rang through my ears. A harsh tingle shook me as the tight woven threads against my hands were replaced with a small hold of sand. It fell to join it's family. To my side, in a direction backwards from me, the silhouette of a woman who knew every humiliation in my past, each blotch hiding from my persona, and inch of my skin sunk to a trembling air. As I recall the blurred visions we shared, I see flashes of purple against her pale complexion and black sagging beneath her eyes. The more she hoisted me, the harder it was for her body that strained and gave in to keep up. After watching me fall, get back up, and fail only to pursue the next for those several hours together, it only occured to me recently that perhaps she wasn't trying to join me, but allow me the option to join her. My pursuit of an empty dream was hurting her just the same as me, and repeating the cycle would've lead us both to our deaths. Her wisdom hid from me at the time, until she was a faint memory. Only then could I put the pieces together that I dropped to the ground and stared off where she had gone to for quite some time. I never saw her again.

Each climb was harder due to the obvious lack of my support from below, but even as another gash formed on my frail flesh, I couldn't even see the goal of the chalice. It had struck me that perhaps at the top I begged a different prize. I longed for the safety she gave me even if what I did caused the bridge in our relationship to burn and spin the ashes into mourning piles. It had invaded my thoughts so harshly that when I reached the top once more, I sat and stared off to ponder. Perhaps I forgot my life before I started this never-ending crescendo upwards. It seemed from birth I'd been placed in front of towers and expected to climb. What other thing in life could there be? Yet there was always her. Not another "option", but as the one that holds you even if it kills them. I missed love. I miss loving. I longed for looking back at her narrow eyes and perfect hair cascading in sweet strands over her shoulder. I desire to give the same safety to someone that I have received, despite the inevitable fact I'd given it away merely days prior. I wish to give that gift. Love. It consumed me so much that my tongue could hardly process the chalice reaching my jaw and distributing sweet nectar that stayed liquid down my throat, until the never-ending drought in my insides vanished in quenched ice.

I tossed it and swiped at the now non-existent sand like usually residing below the cup, greeted with air and a slight swoosh noise. When I leaped down and headed to the next, I looked at my hands that seemed to be tougher. The fresh wounds into white calluses, and cuts scabbed over in a pale sheet of new skin. They were rejuvenated, and I was made half again. When I put my toes onto the rock and reached my sore muscles towards a higher grip, I pushed off in a leap to the next solid area for my feet. The heat backed over me, and I glanced upwards at the glorious sun challenging my perseverance and heart for another day. Its glorious entrance was interrupted by a pitch shadow, standing in front of it almost as a mockery. I looked into its face, seeing what had shown its appearance over the edge from the very top. Hazel eyes stared me back."

:P

[chidoroki]

I have had another idea. I had had it some time ago but i rethought about it.

So everything starts when the first promise is forged. The Demon God, after have asked the reward to both the demon king and the Ratri guy, says:

"but now i will ask another reward to both of you togheter. It's for all the children who will be eaten from now. Every 50 years, at Tifari, i will choose one person. This person will be freed from the system. If it's a kid and that his mother is still alive, she'll be spared too. If this kid has siblings, they'll be spared too. if it's a mother, her children will come with her."

The demon king accepts, mostly because he knows that he can't say "no" to his god and maybe he thinks that it's fair that some kids escape this fate. At worst it would be three or four persons. Not a big deal, right? The Ratri guys may be relieved that some escape + the guilt again. The demon god then says "but don't try to fool me, both of you because if you try to eat the ones i choose to be freed, i will not be pleased. And you'll PAY the consequences. Nobody has the right to eat the ones who are choosen by me, understood?"

So the things go. The King's daugther kills her father but doesn't dare to defy the orders of the god. Because of the threat, mostly. But she tries to fool him by not giving him always all the three best, like only two of the best cattles on the three and one less smart. "Him" is like "ha gonna be even mort stern then"

So with the years the ways to raise the kids change. At a point the Ratri clan tries to outsmart the god by trying to make him choose the one of the kids who are not in the premium farms but "him" isn't fooled. And the list vanish, replaced by the good one with the number is a different color. The Ratri clan doesn't dare to defy him after that.

And now out story really starts: one day, after Norman's shippement, Isabella is called at the gate by Grandmother. Her number has been choosen by the demon god. It means that she'll be free. And her son will be freed too. Sarah enjoys to tell her that Ray is her son but Isabella is "ho my, he was going to be shipped in two months, lucky him"

When the kids learns that Isabella is promoted and must go…the youngest are in tears, the others thinks that the escape plan can work even better now. The day where she must go, she enters in Ray's room. "You came to say goodbye mama?

No. Because you come with me!

W…What?

I guess they want a set, Ray"

A part of Isabella isn't sure if this story of being spared is true (Sarah already gave her her own son to raise to death after all). Will Ray share a tragic fate with her? or her son will live with her? She doesn't know but she hopes. Ray thinks that the demons are enough crazy to eat them together. He panicks but he's forced to obey. What can he do? Nothing. It could make the escape of the others fail. "Don't do anything stupid Ray, it could ruin the plan that you make to escape. The others will have a chance if the headquarters don't get suspicious." Ray is panicked. But laughs "I have to bring some stuff? To make a nice cover?"

"Likely." He obeys, he doesn't show it but he's terrified. But what he can do?

Emma and all the others are horrified. Emma thinks that Isabella is punished and that she took Ray with her by pure spite. Or that "they" got suspicious about Ray after have asked Norman. She can't do anything. The plan would be ruined. She can't make the new mama suspicious or…. At the gate, there no demons, just humans. They are took to the headquarters. Ray is locked in a room with books and toys. While Isabella has the chip in her heart removed. They have their tattoos removed too.

But the great escape happens. Then Peter Ratri thinks "the demon god asked to not eat the one who are chosen by him. But he has not said that we are forced to take them in the human world immediatly" and he thinks to use them. Isabella as grandma and Ray as hostage to force her to obey. Ray can read and study as much he wants. At a point he even helps at the nursery. His tracker in his ear is still here to be sure that he doesn't escape. Peter Ratri knows that Emma will come back to the kids. And then he can use Ray as blackmail.

During those two years, Ray and Isabella forge a new relationship, more strong and honest than before. They have to be allies.

For Emma things are the same, except Ray isn't here. She is devasted because she thinks he's dead like Norman. When She sees Norman again, he's devasted too.

And when they attacks the headquarters? Ray is here, after have created a device to deactivate the chips in the heart of the sisters.

Isabella doesn't die, of course

Ah, even more story ideas, hello 👀

Oh boy, that’s a.. very specific request by the demon god. Very convenient for Isabella & Ray in this case, but despite that, I can’t see why the demon god would just free them from the system. He’s a tricky dude so I’m certain there’s gotta be a hidden motive behind it, even if it’s just so he can eat them himself.

Doesn’t seem like the current king or Ratri head have much to lose from this deal either since it doesn’t affect them personally. Not surprised that if both sides tried to fool Him, though their plans ended up in failure.

Sarah straight up telling Isabella that Ray is her son must’ve been quite the scene. I’m sure she was looking forward to seeing Isabella fall apart and breakdown at the reveal, but I’d find it so funny if Isabella just waved it all off like “Yeah okay I knew that already” if only to piss Sarah off. Or again, Isabella could totally put on a great performance and act surprised if she’s actually still fearing for her life at this point. I dunno, she might not be. If it’s an order from demon god that she’s free then yeah, I like my first idea better in this case.

No doubt she would be suspicious of any possible ulterior motive the demon god might have from freeing her & Ray though. Ray would think the idea is insane too which is why I love that despite their new “freedom,” that Isabella still warns him to behave and to not take it for granted.

That little moment of them working together to put on a decent facade as they both leave is wonderful.

But oh nooo, without Ray (& Norman who was already shipped out at this point), Emma would have to handle the whole escape by herself! Aahhh, my poor girl. I’m certain she could handle it because, well, it’s Emma, but also she needs her best friend to support her, espcially someone like Ray! Dude has helped her so darn much after the escape, no one can deny that. She already lost one, she can't lose both of her boys! The trio must stay together at all times, we can’t separate them please thanks hahaa.

Oh Peter, you always gotta be a bastard no matter what kind of story you’re in huh? Typical.. but I guess that can be true. Demon god didn’t really specify when the freed humans had to cross over to the human world, just that they had to be taken out of the system, so (thought I don’t wanna admit it) well played on his part, I guess.

“Ray can read and study as much as he wants,” Pffft, so not at all basically. He never enjoyed all that reading back at GF, he only did so to raise his score so he could survive longer. Granted, all that knowledge helped post-escape in the canon storyline and he even went ahead to read the entire shelter library too, but that was also to learn more about the demon world and clues related to The Seven Walls. He’ll read simply because he has to. But aww, him helping out the babies in the nursery is an adorable idea. Imagine him humming the lullaby to them.

Ray and Isabella being allies is the best darn scenario to come outta this whole thing! I was excited enough when Isabella betrayed Peter in ch169/170 to side with Emma, but seeing her team up with Ray? Her son that has suffered from this system just as she has? YES. Give me all that! I will ascend!

Having Ray work to create a device to deactivate the moms & sisters heart chips is perfect. His tech savviness came in clutch before to create that taser to disable the kid’s transmitters, so surely he could come up with something similar.

“Isabella doesn’t die, of course.” GOOD. And she shouldn’t! Ever!

Thank you once again for sharing!

[freethebook]

It is very telling when a person who has no knowledge of beekeeping tries to demonize beekeeping. And this is demonization, not criticism, because the latter would require some effort. So let's break this down bit by bit.

Source here is ME because I am an amateur beekeeper and even with my limited experience I can debunk all of this easily.

"Actually, beekeepers take many precautions to keep their bees from leaving."

Of course they do, because ONE, bees are a livestock animal and no farmer wants their livestock animals to flee, and TWO, that is just responsible oh my god. Many hives that swarm end up dying from starvation if they don't swiftly locate a new home, and even if they DO locate a new home, if it's in proximity to humans they'll be relocated to an adoptive beekeper ANYWAY at best, and bug sprayed at worst.

"many clip the wings of the queen" This, this just does not happen. It does not happen.

If a queen becomes damaged in any way, the hive will KNOW and it will REPLACE her. They will kill the queen THEMSELVES, and you've now crippled your hive's worker production for a month or more. You do this three times in a row, the hive is just dead.

"destroy new queen cells" Completely unnecessary and honestly a waste. You could instead cut out the queen cells and rehome them into new hives. The nurse bees will take care of the queen cell, rear it to hatching, and bingo brand new queen no effort.

"cull queens they don't like" Actually does happen! But then, if your queen stops laying eggs, or has poor egg production, the hive will eventually die if the queen ISN'T culled. And again, if she is missing a leg or a wing, the HIVE WILL CULL HER ANYWAY. This is just basic animal husbandry.

"and use bee pheromones to prevent a hive from naturally swarming or absconding" If you are taking care of your hive right you literally don't need to do this. Swarming is a stress measure in response to the bees running out of space.

"They also try and prevent mating with the African honey bee, which makes them less docile among other things." HOOO BOY THAT IS A CAN OF WORMS.

So, the African honey bee was introduced way back when in an attempt to make honey bees that were more efficient and cleanly in higher temperatures. They were released by a very dumb European scientist who thought "huh, this cage on the queen super really isn't necessary, i wonder why it's there" and removed it, allowing what WAS a controlled experiment in hybridization to become an invasive species nightmare.

The Africanized honey bee, which is a hybrid of various European honey bees and the African honey bee, IS very efficient and cleanly! It also produces far less honey, is highly aggressive, and will chase designated targets for LITERAL. MILES. AND STING THEM TO DEATH. If they even approach the hive the wrong way. Preventing mating with the African honey bee outside of its natural range is PUBLIC SAFETY.

God.

Incidentally, I don't blame African honey bees for being this way, because they had to evolve alongside the HONEY BADGER.

"during artificial insemination of queens, drones are crushed and ,,spare'' queens are killed."

Queens engage in ritual blood combat for the throne. No actually. If there is a new virgin queen active in the hive, SHE WILL SEEK OUT ALL OTHER RIVALS AND BITE THEM TO DEATH. SHE WILL TEAR THEM APART WITH HER MANDIBLES. IT IS VISCERAL. I don't even know what this user means by "spare queen," they don't explain it and it's not a term that's used in modern beekeeping.

As for drones being crushed during artificial insemination, DRONES DIE WHEN THEY MATE. THEIR PENIS LITERALLY EXPLODES OUT OF THEIR BODY AND BECOMES A MATING PLUG. I, personally, would not enjoy crushing a drone to death, but I would in fact consider it a mercy compared to a slow, natural death by shock.

"and commercial beekeepers even cull their hives during winter, or when they are not producing well."

BUDDY.

Most beekeepers I know struggle to KEEP their hives through the winter. Hive death during overwintering is a very real problem, and that's WITHOUT considering colony collapse disorder, widespread pesticide use, colony collapse disorder, or a range of other ailments that can cause a hive to abscond, die, or swarm.

Adding on that... do you think that beekeeping is a highly profitable business? Or that beekeepers just have unlimited money to continue to buy bees and resources, like some cartoon villain that spends their vast wealth to harm and kill something for their jollies?

The ONLY. And I must stress, ONLY TIME, it is necessary to cull an entire hive instead of rehabilitate it, is when it's infected with American Foulbrood, because you DO NOT FUCK WITH THAT SHIT. It is GOVERNMENT POLICY across North America that if you have a hive with American Foulbrood, you kill the hive, and BURN THE EQUIPMENT. It can survive over FIVE DECADES as an inert spore, and if you can't clean the equipment with literal BOILING STEAM TREATMENT, you are just throwing all that out.

Are honeybees an invasive species in NA? Yes. Do they crowd out native pollinators and spread disease? Yes. But for all you harp on about cruelty to the bee, removing this invasive species would require a COMPLETE CULL NATIONWIDE, and would only end in more problems due to the reduced natural pollinator population and the continuing incidence of said disease.

As an aside, I am so fucking tired of the invasive species argument because like. Chicken is invasive. Beef is invasive. Pork is invasive. 90% of what you buy in a grocery store is invasive. If you want to fix that, you can start a garden of native plants and connect with farmers in your area. Talk with conservation experts.

A lot of the problems with modern beekeeping come from harmful practices that were brought over from Europe. Monocropping requires vast amounts of pollination, but all the natural habitats of natural pollinators don't exist in these sterilized biomes. So the bees are shipped in, varroa or no, to pollinate the area.

This spreads the varroa to the area if it wasn't already, brings varroa BACK to the home turf if the BEES didn't have it already, gives the bees the equivalent of junk food because they have a single uniform food source for several weeks, and exposes the bees to toxic chemicals because monocropping also requires vast amounts of pesticides that harm the bees.

Conservation IS possible. Rehabilitation IS possible. A lot of young beekeepers want to embrace this as a hobby and as a business RESPONSIBLY, and snide armchair disinformation does NOTHING to actually fix the problem.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

Wild that folks keep saying beekeepers abuse bees as if bees are not both venomous flying animals and fully unionized

[h34vybottom]

I truly never want to go back to the well of talking about modern Persona ever again. I apologise now, but seeing as my blog entry on Persona 3 was about a fandom discussion from the yester-years, I never got the chance to reflect on a fairly obnoxious bit of ludonarrative dissonance in Persona 3. I know talking about how awful the writing is in modern Persona is overdone (For me, anyway), but it's kind of interesting, so apologies again. Firstly, ludonarrative dissonance, a term coined by Clint Hocking, exists to describe the friction between two systems, oft intertwined, and the dissonance this friction creates (These two systems are in the name; ludic, of play, and narrative, of storytelling). Secondly, the dissonance can only come from play and narrative, not narrative and narrative. Scenes like the opening, where Takeba is trying to use the Evoker outside of the Dark Hour for no reason (Including trying to use it as a regular gun), is disqualified from this discussion. Although, that scene is a great example of the writing problems Persona 3 and all of modern Persona have had from the jump. Finally, defining what play is and isn't when it comes to ADV, sound novels, visual novels, bishoujo, etc. is a slippery slope of needless definition and refusals; Play for the purposes of this post is exclusively in the dungeon crawler RPG segments, nothing more and nothing less.

At the end of Persona 3, before the final segment of Tartarus and the final boss, the player is tasked w/ deciding the fate of the world; Live or die. These are the two options presented by Death. At this point in the narrative, the main cast have all faced some form of death, largely parental death. Faced w/ the decision to live previously, these characters all chose to live according to their own principles and values. While this is another example of dissonance between writing, apologies, during the choice segment (An entire month!), the principle cast all doubt whether they should continue existing, including Aegis saying that the cast should choose to die instead of live, that death is inevitable, and that there's no proper way to escape the ever present presence of death (Not Death, who is a person, a demon, and the moon). This sequence is badly written, makes little sense, and comes directly into conflict w/ play and the theming of play.

The principle cast, including the dog, all have a simulacrum of a gun, called an Evoker, which when fired, summons a demon. Evokers are plot devices, seen mostly in combat when used, and not particularly worth noting. As for theming, Persona 3 is badly written and badly made. There's really not much theming, but there's one clear idea. One must kill themselves to resist death. Shooting oneself in the head is the method for every character, except the dog. Suicide is not necessarily literal, as much as it is the removal of one's outer personality. To kill yourself is to kill Ego.

Regularly, the principle cast will metaphorically kill themselves, while facing actual life ending danger. At every point in the narrative, every character is deeply familiar to, suffering from, and facing death. The protagonists all gain immense power from confronting the deaths in their lives and marching onward, not letting themselves fall into grief. This is odd, right? When given the choice of death by Death, the cast all start to wallow in grief. They take an entire month to tell Death that they've no interest in dying or seeing other people die, willing to go so far as to fight a literal god in order to stop their imminent destruction. Yet, play tells us that these characters have long since made that decision. In fact, Takeba already faced these decisions twice in the opening of the game. Trembling, cowering, and trying to shoot herself despite not being the Dark Hour (Again, really bad writing). Takeba then fails to fight off the Shadow on the roof, getting attacked while hesitating, forcing Death to kill the Shadow. Not long after these events, Takeba is perfectly fine using an Evoker and fighting in Tartarus. Takeba, at the beginning of the game, fails and then in play, rectifies that failure. Why then would she or anyone else be paralysed by fear in the face of Death's ultimatum at the end of the game?

I think it'd be remiss of me to not mention how this bit of ludonarrative dissonance came about. It's quite simple and very obvious, but trend chasing. In the 2000s, the trend of video games were focused almost solely on appealing to teenage male sensibilities; Edgy, horny, misogynistic, and violent. Franchises like Pokemon, Ratchet and Clank, Jak and Daxter, God of War, and Gears of War, just to name a few, were all part of this trend. This trend did not necessarily start in the 2000s, w/ early examples being late 90s classic Final Fantasy VIII. VIII ditched the colourful menus, replacing them w/ a solid grey background. While not the first Final Fantasy to have war in it, VIII's featuring of child soldiers, war, violence, and bloodshed made it stand out as more "Mature" as compared to its ancestors. One of the first things seen in VIII is the unskippable opening scene, where Squall and Seifer stab each other, leaving blood splattered on the ground, which the camera focuses on quite heavily. Persona 3, a reboot, was being developed amid this trend cycle, and released in 2006, the same year as Gears of War. Persona 3 is edgy, horny, misogynistic, homophobic (the lesser acknowledged favourite of the 2000s), transphobic (The other lesser acknowledged favourite of the 2000s), and violent. We can see here how the game came to have children committing suicide in play. That sort of element was incredibly popular at the time; Persona has been, since inception, designed to appeal to the main stream. For game likers in 06, the edgier elements of Persona 3 were the expected and the draw. What's edgier must have more meaning, right? Wrong. Elements like the Evoker are pretentious; They don't have much or any value, what they say is meaningless, and their reason for existence is the market (This is true of the entire game, which is exclusively designed to chase trends). This is how products like Persona 3 end up w/ some form of dissonance, be it ludonarrative or otherwise. The inorganic does not allow for creativity nor does it inspire such.

[lumierecharity]

LENT; HAVE YOUR HEART READY TO MEET GOD AT ALL TIMES

LENT

HAVE YOUR HEART READY TO MEET 

GOD AT ALL TIMES

We are a fearful people. And we engender fear.

There is not one of us who has not experienced trauma at the hands of another. The effects of the original Fall from grace have been far-flung and devastating. Each often knows the sting of an insult such as "idiot", "stupid", "why can't you be like (anyone else but your God-given self)"?

Have you ever been told by another, "I hate you"? Such a declaration can be most destructive. Years ago I asked someone who appeared to dislike me, "What annoys you about me so much?" With hostility the individual replied, "You're still breathing."

Many of us experience fear such as fear of the dark or of the unknown. We fear rejection by others. Some lie in bed at night with hearts racing. Sleeplessness is invaded by questions such as "Will I lose my job?" "How will I ever manage to pay everything this month?" "Will this illness end in cancer?" "Will my loved one die?"

LENT IS THE ANSWER TO FEAR

Left to ourselves, we may go around in mental circles. We may feel doomed to lack of courage, fear of who we are and what can happen. Many of us have experienced abuse, physical, verbal and spiritual. Financial abuse is another form of hurt many of us experience. Jesus Christ faced all our fears, and magnificently overcame them. Not by being above fear, but by refusing to allow His steadfast love to be overcome by fear and its oft-accompanying spirit, hatred. 

The Savior sweated blood in the garden as He faced torture and death. That night He was at the mercy of soldiers, tortured before death. Human sadism driven on by the influence of demonic loathing visited cruelty upon Him. Prior to His execution, Jesus was hammered with whips. His nose was possibly broken by the mailed glove of a guard. Thorns were forced into His Head. For His execution, Jesus' clothing was removed so that He hung naked upon the cross.  

Every pain the human race can suffer was forced upon Him as He sweated blood to save all of us from our sins. The saddest of all Christ's sufferings was that those whom He loves laughed at His pain. Why do we enjoy the suffering of another when we hurt so desperately ourselves?

Spring-clean our inner selves

Jesus went out to the desert for forty days and nights in order to wrestle with the temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil. His example ushered in the Lenten season where we take a long, sober look at ourselves and clean out the inner house of our soul. Things lurk there: a spirit of pride, or a spirit of rejection. A jealousy which is engaged in destroying the happiness of another innocent soul who cannot understand why he or she is the target of our rage when all they do is work and love and pray.

Covetousness of another who has a bigger car, and stronger house, has better health or a larger bank balance. All of these things do not bring peace. We need to clear out our soul, and Lent is the perfect time to do it.

Personal judgement

Remember, dear one, that we are going to meet God in our personal judgement. When we die (yes, let us not run away from the reality by trying to stay ever-youthful and pretend to ourselves by our thoughts of everything except the inevitable truth) we will stand before Almighty God to answer for our deeds and misdeeds.

No-one will hold our hand. No-one who was complicit with us in sinning in mob violence, jeering at another, watching online matter the making of which entailed trafficking of innocents will stand with us at our last judgement when we face the Almighty. No, we will stand alone.

Let us make this reckoning of how we have spent our lives a joyous one, knowing that despite our many mistakes (and all of us make mistakes!) we have really tried our best. Our merciful Lord does not ask much more than that. However, He really does not like it when we deliberately turn our face away from all that is good.

Ask forgiveness

Lent is the time to ask God for forgiveness. Lent is the time to take a long look at our inner selves and change what is bad there. Yes, bad. I have said it. We all have the ability for bad within ourselves. 

However, habit is a wonderful thing. If we practise something often enough, it becomes part of us. So, if I get up each morning and practice meditation, my inner self will become calmer and my mind automatically will turn to God as soon as I wake up. I become that which I practise. 

Model yourself on Christ

Let us take the model of Our Lord Jesus Christ and practise His virtues; humility, kindness, patience, peace, goodness, trust in God, lack of revenge and inclusive love for all. Practice these things all the time in your own individual way. Eventually you will become these wonderful things.

That is not to say that you don't already have these virtues within yourselves; each of us have been given spiritual gifts by God. However, not all of us develop them to the fullest of their potential. Throw away your fear, leave behind your trauma and develop inner serenity and calm by asking Christ to change your soul and spirit.

Hurt

We hurt others as they hurt others. Often we hurt others through our fear: you will get the position at work I want, so I must destroy your professional reputation by lies. No. This is not from God.

I am afraid that you will hurt me, so I will hurt you first. No: again, this is not from God. Throw away fear, cleanse your heart of anxiety. Build your spiritual house upon the solid rock of God and not upon the shifting sands of the mores of the world, the flesh and the devil. 

Then, when temptation strikes, when the winds and the floods of difficulties arise around us, we will be able to stand firm and strong, true heirs to the Kingdom of God. Within ourselves the root of anger and hostility against others will fade, and the flower of love and care will flourish.

Chalice of Life

Each of us must drink from the chalice of life, whether we want to or not. Each of us must carry our own individual cross as disciple of God; whether we want to or not. However, if we courageously take up our cross and carry it, instead of waiting for daily life in this imperfect world to force it upon our shoulders, we have already thrown away a little fear and built a little courage.

Follow Jesus, Pattern of all that is good and holy

God testified to His Son at Christ's transfiguration with the words, "This is My Son, Whom I have chosen. Listen to Him!" (Luke 9:35)  It behoves us to be obedient to the Almighty. Jesus is the pattern of all that is good and holy. The four gospels explain the wonders of His human character allied to His divine dignity. Read them and immerse yourself in Who Jesus Christ really is - the One Who could forgive those who had just hammered nails into His wrists and feet.

Follow Jesus. Be strong. When your heart beats faster, and your palms sweat, and you feel inadequate, realize that the entire treasury of the Grace of God has been put at your disposal.

You are an heir of God, you will win heaven. But faint heart never won great victory. The greatest victory each of us can win is over ourselves. So be strong this Lent, turn to Jesus, go to confession to a reputable priest who is a person of authentic spirituality and change your life forever.

Mercy

Each of us will stand before Almighty God and answer for our deeds, misdeeds, and our no deeds when we should have acted. Mindful of this, let us show mercy for others, compassion for their weakness, understanding for their pain. Be strong in following Christ. Don't eat too much, don't fast too much. Balance is all. Don't use the beautiful sounds God made to fill our mouths in order to spew out invective. 

Be careful what you watch and read

Don't watch or read things that are not godly. Don't walk past the suffering of the innocent. Be strong. You are a beloved of Christ.

Lent: a wonderful time

Lent is a wonderful time. It is a second chance once again - every year! A second change to re-set our compass towards the due north of our heavenly destination. Yet again we are given a chance to decide to become the greatest saint that we can be. Once more we can turn to the sacraments to wash away our sin and become a new person in Christ.

One day will be your last

Throw away fear. Do not cause fear in others. Embrace each day.  One day will be your last before your eyes open to the wonderful vision of God in heaven. Make sure you have prepared for your eternal home by a good life. This is done by repenting your falls, receiving communion if possible and loving all in a godly manner.

Blessings as your fast, pray and give alms this Lent

May God's blessings be with you during this time of purification, turn towards holiness. The three ways you can celebrate the wonder of Lent are by means of fasting (prudently!), prayer (turn your hearts towards God and talk to Him - He gets lonely for your company) and almsgiving (give of your blessings to others who have none).

Become a saint!

If you wish to make your confession to God,  visit the prayer chapel of repentance

If you wish to give your heart to Jesus Christ the Son of God, visit the following prayer chapel

If you wish to attend Lenten church service, visit the following chapel

[luckybeardfox]

🦋Social welfare work done by Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj🦋

Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Ji tells us in satsangs that till the time we are alive, serve others and do charity and even after death try to serve people with this body by donating body. Deciding to do body donation after death is a very good work which is being done by the followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj.

Unless there is spiritual knowledge, the soul forgets its purpose in the intoxication of maya, just as a drunkard says in the heat of the month of Jyeshtha that he is having fun and lies down at any place even if it is sunny. Is.

By consuming the medicine in the form of spiritual knowledge, all kinds of intoxication of the living being is removed. Then he moves on the path of devotion because he has to reach the Supreme Soul who is his own father and that Satlok is the own home of the soul.

Taking inspiration from the knowledge given by Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj, Munindra Charitable Trust, run under the aegis of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj, in difficult times like Corona, when the lower class of the country was struggling with dire conditions like starvation, when people had no source of income. There was no means and people were waiting for the bread of June 2. Then the followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Ji went door-to-door and provided free food items to the people.

The work of providing food and other relief materials to the people trapped in trouble due to natural calamity is done by the followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj with great promptness. In July 2023, 12 districts of Haryana were hit by floods. People faced the problem of food and drink and due to waterlogging, the danger of diseases also started hovering in these areas. In such an adverse situation, the followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj were seen risking their lives and doing this humanitarian service in different districts, blocks, etc., to provide food and other relief materials to the flood victims.

Many blood donation camps have been organized by the followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Ji inspired by the unique knowledge given by their Guru Ji through the satsangs of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Ji, because Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj explains that Sadhak means devotee or saintly person. One should always be altruistic. Service and compassion are the signs of humanity. It is better for the seeker to always be ready to help others.

Sometimes the tree does not eat fruit, the river does not collect water.

Because of Paramarath, the body of a saint.

Inspired by the dowry-free marriage campaign being run by Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj, followers of Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj conduct wonderful, unique marriages without any dowry, which not only got rid of the demon called dowry, but also There is a punctuation mark on extravagance and show off, because Saint Rampal Ji Maharaj explains that when marriage is just a coincidence, then why wasteful expenditure, instead of misusing this money, it should be used for charity and religion at the right place, so that it Money will definitely be fruitful and it will get manifold benefits. On this line, Saint Rampal Ji Maharaj got marriages started through wonderful Ramani. In which Ramaini is completed in just 17 minutes by invoking all the Gods and Goddesses of the world and praying to the Supreme God. Lakhs of couples have tied the knot through Ramani and are living a happy life.

Saint Rampal ji has taken many big steps for the benefit of the society along with giving proven devotional practice. Compassionate saints want that no living being in the society should lead a miserable life for any reason whatsoever. There should be a solution to the problems of every living being. May no calamity befall humans and the earth becomes like heaven. Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj Ji has only one dream to create a world free from evils like dowry, hypocrisy, death feast, feticide, caste discrimination and untouchability, evils like drugs and to build a corruption free society.

For More Information Download "Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj" App From Play Store & Watch Videos & Subscribe On "Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj" YouTube Channel.

To get free Naam Updesh from Sant Rampal Ji Maharaj, visit the link given below.

https://online.jagatgururampalji.org/naam-diksha-enquiry