#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.

[yourdoorisunlocked]

ᴠᴀʟᴇɴᴛɪɴᴇ'ꜱ ᴅᴀʏ ᴠᴇxᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ - ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

𝐀/𝐍: Whew! Ok, I'm taking a small break right now- I have one more request to do, and ofc as soon as I can I'll finish it, but I don't want to burn myself out or anything.

I'm just taking a quick writing rehab right now. Nonetheless, the banter was so fun to do, and I hope you all like it!

If I do write another chapter for the week, it'll probably be for What A Dish, What A Doll!

➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,903 ➺ Song Recommendation: 𝓔𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓬 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 | 𝓑𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓼

. . .

The chill of February’s frosted breath graced the glass panes of the largest building in the Vee’s district, an imposing force that not-so-subtly hinted at how far their influence and power expanded across the Sinner’s Circle of Hell, as it stood right in the heart of the Pride Ring for all to flock to. No matter how depraved, sadistic, or perverted you were, the territory of the Vees surely had something in store for your insatiable appetite to feast upon. 

And since the first twenty-four hours of the infamously romantic month, chaos had erupted within the offices of the Vees. Other than Halloween, it was the greatest vice of Vox’s hellish existence, filling his calendar to the brim with meetings, product improvement, managing holiday events and sales, and not to mention Velvet’s stupid “Love Potion” gimmick- 

For Christ’s sake, the goddamn holiday started with a ‘V’! Their brand of perfection practically relied on that lovey-dovey nonsense. 

For the past week, the only thing filling up Vox’s schedule and keeping him from you was showcasing shitty rom coms with horribly conceived plots, Velvet rushing around like a mini-hurricane and destroying everything in her wake for her latest fashion show, and Valentino? 

Oh, don’t even get Vox fucking started. 

And now, after all of that overwhelming bullshit that kept him from warming your bed for the past few days, Vox desperately wanted – no, needed to escape and spend quality time with his darling. With you.  

He had the usual Valentine’s Day blueprint in mind: eat ice cream and binge-watch your favorite TV-shows, while you flustered the hell out of him with your affections and make hot chocolate, and then fall asleep in each other’s arms by the fire.

Mundane, cheesy shit like that was the highlight of his days after another exhausting workday keeping it all roped together and navigating Velvet and Valentino's nonsense. 

Their facade was of modern sophistication, perfection at its very finest that was produced for only those who could afford it, and it was all piled into Vox’s lap to regulate the chaotic, unpredictable behavior of his fellow Overlords, and keep their volatile nature in check. 

But the continuous hardship that came with his stressful job would fade with the wintry wind as soon as he stepped off the elevator and into your shared penthouse, and like a patch of sunlight to snow, you’d melt away all his worries with a smile and a rub of his head as you took care of him for the night. 

Almost there... 

The television demon groaned as he crossed the threshold over to your apartments, seeing no need to keep up his perfectly aligned posture. 

And, like a mercy served by Gods, Vox was met with the heavenly sight of you standing in your fluffy, midnight blue bathrobe that you’d received on your birthday, courtesy of Val. Vox would’ve personally burned it to high hell, but you adored the design, and he couldn’t resist you when you pleaded with him. 

“Vox...” crossing your arms at the doorway, his light, his spark, his reason to maintain everything about his own reputation stood with a stern furrow in your brow as you strode over to him. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been overworking yourself again, love,” you grumbled as you took off his bowtie and removed his coat, and you smoothed out the front of his striped vest as Vox stumbled for an answer. 

“I-” *sigh* “I’m not pushing myself that much. You know how the job is, especially around this time,” seeing your face fall and your lips tighten into a straight line, Vox took your hand, squeezing it within his gloved palms as his sharp teeth pulled into a small half-smile. 

“But coming home to you makes it all worth it,” a tender hand dancing with waves of tingling sparks cupped your cheek, and with a heavy sigh, you looked to him with concern and affection swirling within your tender gaze. 

“Yeah, yeah. All I’m saying is those two bumbling excuses of Overlords should at least give you a couple of days off,” you scowled softly, but your frown melted into a flustered pout as Vox kissed it away, and a soft buzz of electricity lingered against your lips. 

“Now, now, enough of that, my dear. We still have the whole night to ourselves, don’t we?” You giggled, a long-awaited melody to his ears as Vox spun you around to press your back against his chest. How beautifully the sound replaced Velvet's usual grating, shrill voice that penetrated his ears. How agreeable you were, that you didn't fight him like Valentino, that you truly cared about him and his well-being.

Sometimes, you'd even force his workaholic ass to return to your apartment and get him ready for bed, practically hauling your grumbling, overworked hubby into bed, and forcing him to sleep in the next morning.

And it was the sappy, lovesick moments like these always reminded Vox that he'd never find anyone else like you.

All the more reason to keep you tightly within his grasp...

“Yeah, I guess, so. You dork,” you flicked the very center of your husband’s face, and he blinked a few times in surprise before chuckling and shaking his head. 

“Oh, yeah? And what does that make you for loving me~?” Vox swayed against you gently, his inner fans suddenly warming himself up more than usual as he poorly attempted to conceal his light blush at having you so close.

Your laughter chimed through the air like the first sunbeams breaking through stormy gray clouds upon the aftermath of a thunderstorm. 

“Well, I suppose that makes me your lover,” you simpered right back at him, turning your head slightly so you could stand on your tiptoes and kiss him.

It felt almost like a dream when you were in Vox’s arms like this. Simply existing with each other, standing above the Pride Ring as if you ruled the entire Sinner’s Circle. Untouchable, ambitious, and madly in love. 

As if on cue, the sound of a gentle, reflective saxophone poured from the speakers installed within the penthouse as the lights dimmed, and you felt yourself drifting away as you swayed with your husband.  

The soft buzz of electricity bounced against your figure as Vox stared down at you, his dead, automated heart pounding erratically as his hands slid from yours down to your waist, digging into the fabric of your robe with sharpened claws. 

“Vox...?” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

With a deep breath, you lilted your voice as you spoke to him, in hopes that seeming more placating and docile could shake Vox’s stance upon his insistence to work himself to the bone. No more would you allow yourself to stand hopelessly to the side while you watched your husband work himself into such a distressed, sleep-deprived state. 

“I’m putting my foot down. You’re not going back to that horrible place for the next week, at least.” Vox stiffened at your tone of finality. 

“Excuse me?” He chuckled as if you were joking with him, but your resolute glare told him otherwise. “Check your phone.” 

With a hesitant glance towards his pocket, Vox slowly pulled out his phone, only to find that, in fact, every work-related app had been temporarily blocked from the device. 

Raising an eyebrow, he looked back at you and tapped your nose with a haughty smirk. “Nice try, but it’s going to take more than that for me to fall for your wiles, my dear,”  

When you only grinned up at him with no hint of malice nor any trace of exasperation tugging at your usual, beautiful smile, his triumphant grin fell. “Why are you looking at me like that? What...” 

 A slow realization turned in Vox's mind as he recollected the last few days, when you were poking and prodding at him and his programming for “no apparent reason,” and he wrote it off as curiosity born from your boredom while being locked up at the penthouse apartment. 

But by fuck, he was really regretting indulging you right now, for once. 

With a surge of panic, Vox immediately blue-screened, as he mentally checked for any of his work-related tabs and files, only to find them completely, and suspiciously empty. 

No notes. No texts. No documents. 

Nothing. 

You... You fucking hacked into his mainframe!? 

His interface returned to normal to find you slumped against him, only perking up when you saw your husband had returned from his frenzied search of the crime that had been committed; the heinous act of keeping Vox from working.

And here the culprit was standing, swooning and relaxing in his hold, nuzzling against him as if she wasn’t to blame for his entire workspace vanishing off the face of the Earth for the next seven days.

“Well...?” 

“...How long have you been planning this?” Vox was absolutely aghast. He knew you could be impulsive, perhaps even irrational, compared to your cool, collected husband, but this was... 

You grinned triumphantly as you tapped his nose right back. 

“I just thought you could use a few days off, spending some time in your wife's company for Valentine's Day~..."

“But when did you- No, how the hell-?” 

“It seems that you’ve fallen victim to my wiles yet again,” 

“Oho, you sneaky little-!” Vox practically tackled you into a hug as he discharged a small bout of electricity, tickling you with an electrifying warmth, just by holding you against him. 

“C’mon, I’ve got another surprise for you,” with a soft giggle and a gentle tug of his antenna, you pulled Vox from the floor as his free hand shot up to his hat with a small, bashful frown. 

“I told you to stop that!” He outwardly groaned, but you could hear the flustered electrical buzz that Vox emitted whenever you did something to him that he really liked.  

“You know I don’t like it,” he muttered, but as always, you saw right through him. 

“And we both know that’s one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told me,” you grinned back at him cheekily as you pulled him into the living area, where you had spent most of your afternoon setting up when Vox was occupied with his work. 

In the living room, you had set up a small, cozy gaming area. It then hit Vox just how long you had been setting this up, waiting for him to drop his guard and into your scheming hands.

That little criminal...

Two controllers, one for you, and one for Vox, sat upon a pile of fluffy blankets. A few pillows draped in silk cloth surrounded the area on the couch, and before it upon the coffee table, there sat a freshly made bowl of popcorn, and various other chocolate candies and snacks.

“Hm... Seems like someone’s been itching for a rematch.” A challenge glinted in his sensors, and you leaned into him with an equally blazing ire.

"You wanna bet...?"

. . .

“GODDAMN FUCKING BLUE SHELL! I’LL DESTROY YOU, YOU SPIKED SON OF A BITCH!”  

“HA-HA! GUESS WHO’S IN THE LEAD, NOW!?”  

Your fingers pressed the controller furiously as the TV blared in front of you, and as you crossed the finish line, you let out a whoop of victory, nearly falling out of Vox’s lap in your bout of triumph. 

“Yes!” “No!! Fuck!”  

You and Vox shouted simultaneously, making you burst into a fit of triumphant laughter as he groaned and slumped defeatedly behind you. 

“Are you serious!? That’s the fifth time in a row!” Vox nearly crushed his controller in his vice grip as he threw a slew of curses at the TV.  

The two of you had been playing Mario Kart for the past hour, blissfully unaware of how your gaming match had whisked the both of you into a heated competition of bumper cars and tallying points for each round someone won, and the winner would be picking the movie you watched.

You stuck your tongue out at him with a victorious beam. “It seems the Nintendo wants us to watch the Kissing Booth tonight,” you giggled madly when Vox’s face scrunched up in disgust.  

“Yeah, babe, there is no way I’m watching that.” 

“Aw, come on, I won fair and square!" you leaned into your husband, who sighed with exasperation but softened at the sight of your pout. 

“Please...? I promise we’ll watch whatever you want tomorrow!” 

“It’s my first day off the job, and you want to watch the goddamn Kissing Booth!?” 

"Pretty please, Sparks?" Vox’s aura buzzed softly at the nickname, and he narrowed his eyes down at you as you begged him with your puppy eyes.

“Playing dirty, huh? Fine. Let’s watch your dumbass movie,” Vox pouted with crossed arms as he slumped into the couch in defeat and his antenna buzzed softly in annoyance. It sparked abruptly when you clapped excitedly and pulled him by his collar to lay a tender kiss on his cheek.  

“Thank you! I promise, you’ll love it,” you grinned mischievously and grabbed the remote. 

Vox, in fact, did not love it. In fact, it was so bad that you both started watching it ironically and threw jabs at it occasionally.   

“So, who do you think she should pick? Her psycho-controlling best friend, or the pretty boy with anger issues~,” You leaned your head against his shoulder as you shoveled a handful of popcorn into your mouth, your eyes glued to the screen. 

Vox sighed and rubbed his forehead, equally as invested as you were despite your shared frustration with the film.  

“Honestly? She should dump both of them and run for the goddamn hills.”  

You snorted. “Yeah? Well, I would’ve chosen her boyfriend. He gets better over the next couple of movies.” Vox raised an eyebrow at you. “Seriously?”  

Popping a few M&Ms into your mouth, you nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m serious! He gets some serious character development,” you mutter sarcastically, before licking your lips with a shit-eating grin. “He seems really cold and angry on the outside, but he’s not so bad once you get to know him.” 

Nudging his shoulder, you glance not-so-subtly up at him, and Vox took the hint, tickling your sides softly with a smirk. 

“And I’m a dork?” 

“Yeah, and you’re a contagious one, too!” Your hands grabbed at his arms as he crushed you into a hug, pulling you even closer as he rested his head upon yours. 

“Well, then I guess that makes two of us, doesn’t it my dear~?”  

“No! Stop! Please, I can't breathe!” You attempted to flail around dramatically, but within Vox's vice grip, that was next to impossible. 

“Ah-ah-ah! I’m afraid you’re trapped within my wiles, darling!” 

“Curse you! How dare you use my own spells against me!” You giggled as he continued his bombardment of tickles and small, feathered kissing against your nape and the small back of your neck. 

Soon, your laughter died down and you both fell silent as you finished the rest of the movie.

While you slowly began to drift off into sleep in Vox's arms, spent from the day of preparing your apartment for your husband's arrival, he looked down at you with a tender half-smile.

I can't believe someone like you would even look at someone like me...

"Hey, babe-?" He whispered out into the dark, before huffing out a chuckle when he realized you were still asleep.

With a soft smile, and a tender patter of his heart, Vox scooped you up and whisked you away to your bedroom, where he silently dresses you up in a pair of pajamas, and tucked you into bed.

Ever so gently, Vox laid a few of the blankets over your form, dragging them and the silk pillows back from the couch to make his little sleeping beauty ever the more comfortable.

He looked upon you as you dozed the minutes away, blissfully oblivious to the war that raged inside of him. 

While Vox was impressed that you had managed to somehow hack into his mainframe and alter his actual mental programming, it really would take more than basic understanding – plus, you pulled it off unguarded. Now, of course, this spawned a new problem for him, but he’d deal with it in due time. Besides, it’d give him a proper excuse to slack off a little bit, with you. 

God, what was he thinking? The old Vox would’ve seen such a desire to goof around with some girl while the other two Vees went around wreaking havoc and partaking in whatever idiocy without Vox to keep them in check. 

But you weren’t just ‘some girl’ to him. 

And frankly, those two clowns could go fuck themselves. 

A part of Vox wanted to remain in your bed, for your sake, but there was work to be done, and Velvet no doubt was positively livid at the fact that he wasn’t answering any of her calls. 

So, with a newfound confidence in his advances, your husband bent over you, softly pinching your chin within his finely sharpened claws, and laying a few tender kisses trailing from your lips down to your nape. 

I wish I could do this to you when you’re awake... But that smile, fuck, I can’t even form sentences without fumbling when you look at me like all you want is to give me the world. 

You groaned and turned over within the sheets, scooching towards him with a soft furrow in your brow.

Vox kissed it away, before reluctantly pulling away from your side, standing at the door with a small, yearning smile.

“Til morning, my dear.” 

. . . 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Happy Valentine's Day from our favorite crazy-ass TV demon!

I'm sorry I didn't get to post this yesterday, but I was feeling so unmotivated by the end of it, and I decided to rewrite most of this fluff fic, just to give you all a quality post.

I don't half-ass things, especially when it comes to writing, that's just why my fics take a while to post.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and comments are always appreciated!

. . . 

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @matrixbearer2024

[haunted-headset]

💜 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.

[delicatenightfury]

Hard Truths

2022 Month of Writing: Day 18

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader, platonic!John Winchester x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 1,180

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

“So, you’re Dean’s fiance.”

y/n glanced over her shoulder. John Winchester was standing at the entrance of the room, observing her as she looked through case files and research. It was so weird having him around. He had been dead for nearly thirteen years. She had known him briefly before he had died, having been one or two hunts with the Winchester boys when they interacted with their dad.

Now, the brothers were out on a grocery run to get ingredients for Mary’s casserole. That left y/n alone in the bunker with their parents. Both of them. Alive and well. To say it was a little awkward was probably an understatement.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I, uh, noticed the ring earlier. When did he propose?”

“He asked about two years ago. Being a hunter doesn’t really allow a lot of room for financial stability, so he didn’t officially get the ring until recently.”

John smiled a little.

“Nice to know he’s finally settling down.”

y/n couldn’t help but nod.

“I never thought it would happen. We’ve both seen what hunting does to people, especially married couples. But I’m glad he finally asked.”

“So when did you start hunting with them?”

“About ten, eleven years ago. It started as an occasional thing, maybe the same hunt every couple of weeks or months, before it started becoming more frequent. Sam was the one that invited me to stay.” She paused and sat back in her chair, casting a glance toward John. “I actually went on two hunts with you and the boys.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“First one I was hunting a demon in Chicago before Dean and Sam showed up. Turned out to be a demon controlling a group of Daeva. Next hunt was weeks later. We had just wrapped up one when they heard from a friend of yours. You were on the same job, which ended up also being a vampire hunt.”

John took a moment to observe her posture, and replayed her words in his mind.

“I take it that things didn’t go smoothly?”

“I mean, we got thrown around a lot.”

“I meant between the two of us.”

y/n shook her head, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

“No, smooth is probably the last word I’d use to describe it. We were civilized, but I definitely had my opinions.” She glanced at him, surprised to see that he seemed to be expecting more. “What?”

“What were your thoughts?”

“On you? You want me to tell you what my first thoughts about you were?”

He shrugged.

“Only if you’re willing.”

She looked at him for several moments, debating whether or not to actually tell him her thoughts.

“Well,” she started. She paused to give John room to back out, but he only looked at her expectantly. “To put it simply, I thought you were a dick.”

John ducked his head with a small smile. It made y/n relax a little.

“That right?”

“Oh yeah. You were so determined to kill the thing that got Mary, I could see it in your eyes when you talked about it. And I knew that that drive was what made you a good hunter. But I also saw the effect it had on your sons. The minute they saw you, their posture and personality changed. They looked more like soldiers. And after you left the first time, I could see how desperately they wanted to help you.

“Then when you came around the second time, you were still so sure to keep them in the dark. You claimed to be protecting them, yet you let them travel all across the country hunting monsters and saving people. God, I almost snapped at you during that hunt.”

y/n bowed her head and rubbed her forehead. She could picture the arguments she heard between Sam and John. She remembered how much she wanted to butt in and snap back, maybe even punch him. But it hadn’t been her place. She had stayed as far removed as she could during those moments.

“You turned your war into theirs,” she eventually continued. “So much so that they never really knew anything other than hunting. They had to grow up too quickly. Dean at least tried to make sure that Sam had a decent childhood. But Dean had to grow up too fast because you told him that it was his responsibility to watch over Sam and to keep him safe. He had to play mother and father to his little brother because you were too busy hunting. And I get that that’s the hunter’s life, but you dropped the ball on your responsibilities as a father.

“Believe me, I understand what it means to be a hunter and to have that drive to take out the darkness in the world. But there were two little beacons of light just waiting to shine, and they never did except for each other. You had a hand in making them the hunters they are, John, but not a lot in making them the men they’ve become. You let other people do that for you.”

She finally cast a glance at John. She expected him to be angry, annoyed, questioning who she was to judge his parenting. What she hadn’t been expecting was John staring right at her, nodding his head slightly with tears in his eyes.

“You’re not wrong,” he said. “I know I messed up and dropped the ball when it came to the two of them.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t love them, John,” y/n said. “I know you did. That’s clear as day to me with you being here. And you kept them safe when it mattered. You probably did the best you could, raising two boys on your own. But I’ve seen how tired the two of them get sometimes.”

John sighed and ran his hand over his head, sinking into a nearby chair.

“I never wanted for them to continue to live this life. Sam almost got out, going to college and everything. I heard Dean almost did too.”

“They’ve both tried. Almost succeeded too. But life just kind of dragged them back in.”

John nodded. He lifted his head to smile slightly at her.

“Seems like Dean’s trying to settle down again though.” The two glanced down at her ring and smiled. “Have you talked about what you’ll do?”

“We’re eventually going to try and step away. Maybe find a place close to the Bunker, find normal jobs. We might pick up a hunt every now and then, depending on what it is and the distance. But any choice that relates to hunting, we’ve agreed to talk about. We plan on talking Sam into taking a step back too.”

John smiled again, reaching over to pat his hand on her shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze

“Dean’s a lucky guy,” he said. You’re gonna make a hell of a Winchester.”

y/n blushed. She hadn’t expected that response. She smiled at him.

“I’m certainly gonna try my best.”

A/N: I was expecting there to be more Dean in this. Oops!

[stardustbarbarians]

Cirice

Chapter 2 (ch. 1)

A Daniel Wagner / fem!reader series

Summary: You wanna deal with The Devil? You gotta live with it when he sets you on fire.

Tags: Demon!Daniel, angst

A/N: No trigger warnings this time around! This is probably going to be one of the softer chapters I publish for this fic. Just a head's up, it gets darker from here on out. Title taken from Cirice by Ghost. Dedicated to the lovely @samkooszka <3. Please enjoy reading!

Words: 3.6 k

+++

It only occurred to you the next morning that you failed to ask the demon when Jake’s hand would be repaired. You had been sipping your coffee and looking out the kitchen window above your sink when it struck you, slamming your mug down on the counter in frustration. Your annoyance only increased when you realized that you had spilled coffee everywhere and you would be the one having to clean it up. With a huff, you flick the liquid off your hands and rinse them off, grabbing a paper towel and wiping up the spilled drink. 

Checking the time, you realized that you were late in picking up Jake for his physical therapy. While he technically could drive himself, he hadn’t wanted to since his accident. None of you or the boys had wanted to push him into driving, so all four of you took turns driving him. And while your turn had been yesterday, you were doing Sammy a favor by taking in Jake. Rosie had a vet appointment so you offered to take his turn. 

Rushing with throwing on some clothes and shoes, you grab your keys and a coat and jog out to your car. As the engine roared to life, you startled as the radio jumped alive with the sound of Mick Jagger’s singing. 

Just as every cop is a criminal

And all the sinners saints

As heads is tails

Just call me Lucifer

'Cause I'm in need of some restraint

You shook your head and punched the off button on the radio. Of course the song was Sympathy For The Devil because why wouldn’t it be after what you had done last night? Even though the song had ceased filtering through your car speakers, it caused you to think about what you’d done. There was someone out there - whom you may or may not know - that just had half of their soul removed from their body. If removing a soul all at once was enough to instantly kill, what would happen to someone who had half of it taken away? Would they get sick? Would they go into a coma? Oh god, was there now someone hospitalized because of you?? 

That was all that consumed your mind as you made the drive over to Jake’s. It seemed as though your anxiety was on a loop of itself, repeating the same concerns over and over again. It would’ve convinced yourself that you were a bad person if you hadn’t already believed yourself to be. But, recently you have been trying to better yourself. There was a reason you had been willing to sacrifice your soul to the devil for Jake’s dreams. 

When you pulled into Jake’s driveway, you didn’t even need to call him to let you know you arrived. He came bounding out of his house and right up to your car. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t startle you slightly see him so excited. It had been months since he had been anything close to genuinely happy, so your surprise was a pleasant one.

When he reached your car, he pulled on the handle and then knocked on the window when he couldn’t get in. Snapping back into yourself, you press the button and he immediately yanked it open. A blast of cold air sent chills over your body as Jake slid into the front seat, slamming it closed behind him. His eyes were bright as he beamed excitedly at you; reminiscent of a child on Christmas morning. 

“Good morning, Jakey. You look chipper,” you greet, pulling your jacket tighter around you after you shivered. 

“Y/N, you’ll never fucking believe it. Last night - just out of the goddamn blue - my hand started to feel better. I haven’t felt like this in months and I just decided to throw caution to the wind and pick up my guitar; I played Highway Tune and I felt no pain. Then I just said ‘fuck it’ and went for The Weight of Dreams… I played it perfectly! I-I don’t know what’s going on… but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the fucking mouth. It’s some kind of… of miracle.” Jake exposited, his left hand stretching and flexing as he spoke on its own volition. There was disbelief lacing his words, amazement in his eyes and smile. When he concluded, he looked down at his once broken hand and watched himself flex it. 

You could feel yourself deflate with relief, your posture becoming less rigid as he shared with you the good news. It was only until he smiled up at you that you realized you failed to react to him. Schooling your face, you tried your best to look surprised. “Jake, that’s incredible!” 

You saw his smile dim at your words. You had never been a great actress. 

“Y/N… did you-?” 

Your heart pounded as he gazed at you so deeply with those soft brown eyes of his. The last time he had gazed at you like that, there were a lot less clothes on either of you and both of you were sweating-

“Y’know what? I don’t want to know what you did. Just… thank you. Thank you so fucking much,” he gently grabbed your hand with his newly fixed one, “you gave me my dream back.” 

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a tear roll down your cheek. Smiling, you kissed his hand in yours, wiping away your tear with your free hand. “Anything for you, Jakey.” 

You weren’t expecting him to pull you into a hug, but you also weren’t gonna complain. It was a tight one, but it was his way of showing his appreciation. The longer you embraced, the more you wanted to cry. You had to pull away after a moment, the tears stinging your eyes. 

“Alright, we’re gonna be late for your physical therapy,” you remind him, a watery laugh escaping your lips. 

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed before running back into the house. He emerged a moment later with his guitar case in hand and a huge smile on his face as he hoisted it up for you to see. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, fond of actions. 

You popped the trunk of the car for him, shivering once again as the mid-winter air filtered into your car. 

“I kinda need this,” he commented with a smile before closing the trunk. 

“Have you told the boys yet?” you asked, putting the car in reverse after he buckled into the seat. 

“Not yet. I wanted to surprise them tonight over dinner.” 

You nodded as you kept your eyes on the road, turning the radio back on. 

“You’re coming too, babe. Just try and keep it a secret until then, alright?” 

That brought a smile to your face. You had thought that you were going to be included, but you also weren’t going to just invite yourself. You were so glad that you would be there to see all of Jake’s brothers have not only their careers back but Jake himself. It was clear that - even from your minimal interaction today - that he was back to his normal self. For the rest of the day, you forgot about that soul you squandered away. With Jake back to his normal self, it seemed entirely worth it. You’d suffer any and all torment hell would bring to you just to keep him smiling like that. 

+++

You had spent the day with Jake after his physical therapy. Due to his “miraculous” recovery, that was his last appointment he ever had to go to. After that finished, you two went to the grocery store in order to get supplies for the meal you would serve later that night. It was while you were browsing the produce aisle that you sent out the details for tonight out in the groupchat. Each of the boys responded by the time you checked out, surprisingly. It would often take them hours to respond if you were lucky and a few days at the latest. It was quite infuriating, but you had gotten used to it over time. 

“They all said they’re coming,” you informed Jake, looking over to him as he looked back and forth between different cloves of garlic. 

“What about Mackenzi? Is she coming too?” You didn’t miss the hesitance in his voice as he asked after Danny’s girlfriend. While you hadn’t been friend’s with Danny for nearly as long as the Kiszkas had, you did know that he was at his happiest when he had spent a long period of time away from her. She wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around; she always acted like she was better than everyone around her and wasn’t friendly towards you in particular. 

You looked back at the groupchat to double check Daniel’s message. “He just said ‘cool, I’ll be there’. So, probably not.” 

Jake nodded, placing one of the garlic cloves in the cart before pushing it towards another section. You were sure you weren’t meant to hear it, but under his breath you swear you heard him say “thank god”. It seemed you weren’t the only one who wasn’t a fan of Mackenzi. 

+++

Despite not being the best in the kitchen, you tried to help Jake where you could. He was thankfully patient with you as you fumbled your way around, asking for help when you needed it. 

“Jake! What do I do after chopping up this… what was it called again?” you ask, embarrassed at how whiny you sounded. But, you were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of what you didn’t know that it made you nearly want to burst into tears at times. 

“That’s green onion,” Jake gently informed, chuckling as he wiped his hands off on some paper towel. You felt your stress slightly fall as he smiled at you, making his way towards where you stood at the counter. 

“Of course it’s called green onion. It’s green and smells like onions,” you lamented, setting your knife down and holding your head in your hands. They smelled like onions. 

With another fond laugh, Jake gently pulled you into his arms. You didn’t move your hands as he wrapped you in an embrace, but you did rest your head against his shoulder. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead; you could feel the smile on his lips. “You’re doing great, love.” 

You tried to ignore the way the close proximity and the pet name made your heart jump. With a sigh, you pulled away and took a deep breath in order to calm your stress. You opened your eyes to see him smiling at you. He tucked a hair behind your ear, the look in his eye changing to something more… lustful. 

“You look lovely,” he purred, his hand lingering on your jaw. 

“Jacob?” 

“Yes?” 

“Your garlic is burning,” you inform him, tipping your head to point at the skillet on the burner. 

Turning his head and sniffing the air, he ran towards the stove. “SHIT!”

Laughing fondly, you go back to your green onions to chop up a few of the pieces that were on the bigger side. However, you were interrupted by a knock on the door. Looking over at Jake struggling with his garlic, you set your knife down and went to answer the door. 

“Hey, y/n! I wasn’t expecting to find you here yet,” Sam exclaimed as you opened the door. He pulled you into a hug after taking his jacket off, the smell of cigarette smoke filling your nose as he did. 

“Is that Sam?” you heard Jake call out from the kitchen. 

“Yeah-”

“Sammy boy! Get in here! I need your help!” Jake cut you off, his voice loud as he shouted. 

You and Sam shared a long-suffering look before he slipped his shoes off and grabbed the wine he had set down on the floor to bring into the kitchen. “He seems better.” 

“You have no idea.” You absently run your thumb over the bandage you wrapped around the hand you cut open for the ritual. 

You two walked into the kitchen, the smell of food cooking making your mouth water. Noticing your presence, Jake looks over his shoulder and smiles at you. He silently motions for his brother to join him by the stove with a tip of his head. Sighing, Sam passes the wine he had in his hand off to you, asking if you would put it in the fridge. 

Just as you had put the wine away, another knock on the door resounded through the house. Not even bothering to wait for Jake to ask, you walked back towards the front door. This time, you opened it to see the last Kizska brother at the door. 

“It’s cold as balls out there!” Josh exclaimed, pushing past you and into the house. “Hi, y/n!” 

His smile was huge as it usually was, shaking his head to get the snow out of his curls. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack before pulling you into a tight hug. “Hello, Joshie.” 

“So… how’s Jake doing?” he asked as the two of you walked towards the kitchen. There was concern filling his eyes that he attempted to hide with a smile. He didn’t do a good job, however. You could tell how nervous he was. 

“Well, I’m not the one who should tell you. But there’s a surprise at the end of the night that Jake wants to share with you guys,” you answer as you round into the kitchen. 

Josh’s smile got brighter after you spoke, the worry draining out of it. Josh didn’t even bother walking over to greet his brothers, just jumping up to sit on one of the far counters. He reminded you of a bird, the way he perched and observed the world around him. 

“Hey,” Jake and Sam both absently greet their oldest brother, consumed with preparing the meal. Josh didn’t seem bothered by his luke-warm welcome. He was used to his brothers getting lost in their cuisine. 

The minutes passed as Sam and Jake cooked, the four of you all having a good time in the kitchen. While you enjoyed yourself, there was something in the back of your mind that told you something was off. Glancing at your phone, you realized that Danny was almost half an hour late. Your brow knit at the realization, concern flooding your veins. 

“Hey, Sam, do you know if Danny said he was gonna be late?” you ask, walking up closer so he could hear you over the music playing over the speakers. 

“Why do you guys always ask me about Danny, huh? It’s not like we’re attached at the hip,” he griped, chopping another bit of green onion. Loud and sharp chops! cut through the air as his irritation took over. 

All three of you gazed at the youngest Kiszka, all of you having the same look of disbelief and doubt on your faces. Sam turned around to see everyone shooting that look at him, his face turning slightly pink at the attention. He haughtily returned to chopping, refusing to look at you all. 

“He mentioned that he would be a little late.” Sam finally relented, knowing that he was, in fact, the first to be informed about Daniel’s whereabouts and any new information from Daniel. None of you pressed for more despite knowing there was more to that story than Sam was telling. So, you all let it go and continued on. 

Right as you and Josh finished setting the table, you heard a knock. Sharing a look with Josh, you made for the front door. When you became the goddamn doorman, you had no idea. 

“Danny! You made it! How-” you stopped yourself short as you saw how red and puffy Daniel’s eyes were. He gave you a weak smile, his eyes glittering as he stepped into the light of the vestibule. 

“Hey, y/n,” he greeted, his tone watery and breakable. Your chest ached immediately at the sight, fighting the urge to pull him into a tight embrace and never let him go. 

“Are you ok? What happened?” you asked, tucking a loose curl behind his ear. Danny flinched away from the touch, his hand coming up to push yours away. 

“I’m… I’m fine. I’d rather not talk about it right now.” And with that, he quickly walked over to the bathroom. You heard the door slam behind him, your brow becoming creased as your concern for him doubled. 

Quickly making your way into the kitchen, you grab Sam by the shoulder and drag him away from Jake, the bassist whining the entire time. 

“Sam, shut up for fuck’s sake! I need you to do me a favor-”

“Oh, you want me to do something nice for you after you manhandle me-” 

“Daniel is crying in the bathroom right now,” you gritted out, pulling Sam’s ear close to you to keep your tone quiet. 

Instantly, Sam’s expression changed. All of the color drained from his face as he looked at you with wide eyes. “He what?” 

“I need you to go check on him for me,” you requested, knowing that if Danny was willing to talk to anyone, it was Sammy. 

“Of course. I’ve got this,” he rushed, all but sprinting down the hall to the door that sequestered Daniel behind it. 

While Sam handled Danny, you kept the twins distracted so that they wouldn’t ask any questions. While you knew that this was a matter that you should’ve included them in, you didn’t want to worry them too much. You just hoped that Sammy would be able to comfort Danny in the way he needed to be. 

+++

Dinner had been served, but Daniel and Sam didn’t emerge from the bathroom until most of the contents of your plate were eaten. You and the twins had made normal conversation, but the entire time it had been weighed down by the obvious fact that there was something going on with Daniel that none of you could assist him with. When the pair finally came to join the dinner table, the air changed immediately. 

As Sam guided Danny to his chair, a reassuring arm wrapped around his shoulders, there was an unadulterated rage burning fiercely behind his eyes that was barely contained. Danny avoided all eye contact, his head hanging in order to hide his sorrow stained eyes. Right when the bassist sat down, you caught his eye, silently asking him if Danny was alright. Clenching his jaw, Sammy subtly shook his head no. 

Josh cleared his throat, taking a sip of wine before offering rhythm section to serve them their dinner. Sam glanced at Daniel briefly before accepting. You and Jake shared a look, worry written all over both of your faces. 

“Do you think now is a good time?” he whispered, leaning in towards your ear. 

You glanced between the other three boys. There was such an air of fragile sadness between all of them that it broke your heart. “They need the pick-me-up.”

Jake looked you deep in the eyes before nodding. He agreed, they needed a win that night for sure. He brushed his fingers over your shoulder gently and shot you a small smile before he got up from his chair. He went unnoticed by the other three as he traveled down the hall to grab one of his guitars. He returned a minute or two later with his case in one hand and an amp and chord in the other. Only when he set them all down onto the floor did he get noticed by the other three. 

All conversation (whatever small and tense talk there was that was going on) ceased as all eyes turned to the guitarist. It continued to remain quiet as you all watched him set up his equipment. Josh eventually caught your eye, sending a questioning look your way. All you did was smile and point back at Jake. 

“So, I know that this is not the ideal time,” Jake glanced quickly over at Daniel, “but I wanted to show you guys… Well, it’s better if I just let my guitar do all the talking.” 

Glancing at you momentarily, you give Jake a reassuring nod and a smile. With a shaky breath, Jacob closed his eyes and began strumming his guitar. At first he started slow, playing basic riffs and chords. However, when it became clear that he became lost in the music he was playing, he got braver and started to play like he had back before the accident. Even though you already knew that Jake was back to previous skill level, you still felt the surprise and disbelief fill your veins as he played so elaborately that it took your breath away. When he concluded playing that’s when you realized you were crying. 

Finally opening his eyes, Jake smiled nervously. He cleared his throat and set aside the guitar. “So… yeah… that’s what I wanted to show you.” 

“Jake…” Sam spoke, completely stunned as the reality of the situation hit him. 

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor and then falling on the floor preceded Josh pulling his twin into a bone crushing embrace. From the way his shoulders were shaking it seemed that he was crying. Jake, albeit stunned, wrapped his arms around Josh, his eyes closing as he accepted the hug. 

Sam was quick to follow, wrapping his arms around his brothers and resting his head atop Jake’s. There was a huge, beaming smile on his face as you noticed a tear slip out of one of his eyes. Danny was close behind, a watery but proud smile on his lips as he rested a hand on Jake’s shoulder. You remained in your seat, watching the moment unfold before you. 

It was worth it. Whatever terrible, horrible consequences that you certainly would have to face would be worth that moment. 

At least, that’s what you believed for the first few months. 

+++

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[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.

[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!

[cumulohimbus]

A Transcript of M’s Transphobic Letter to Me (from mid-Sept. 2018)

I am transcribing this for posterity, and so I can remove the images of it from my phone.  This was a four page long, handwritten letter I received in the mail 6 months after coming out publicly as trans & queer, from a former Catholic Confirmation teacher.

Four years ago I thought it was silly, but it still hurt.  Today it just reads as ridiculous and deeply unhinged; I feel bad for the person who wrote this.  I later burned the letter in my fire pit, surrounded by friends.

     [Dead Name] - (I know you use a different name now so I’ll explain later on in this letter why I use the name given to you at birth) -

...[this section just talks about my starting college and moving out on my own]...

     Now - onto other - for me quite hard to accept - subjects.      I’m having an extremely hard time accepting this whole transgender trend.  And yes, I do believe it’s a trend.  Being confused as a child and a teenager in reference to a person’s sexuality is quite normal.  Experimentation with homosexuality is also quite normal and has been going on since time began.      I have no problem accepting the confusion or experimentation.  However, I do have a hard time with the concept of so many people recently stating they are “trans”.      You were born with a vagina - as far as I know you still have one - hence -  you are a female!      I know you’ve struggled with your mental health for many years.  I’m so sorry you were given that cross to bear.  I know it’s not easy.  However, I do feel, especially in your case, that this wanting to be “male” is, unfortunately, another aspect of a mental demon.      I remember in Confirmation Class you telling me you thought you might be bi-sexual.  Ok - fine - that I can live with.  But have you given very serious consideration to how injections of a hormone may affect you long term?  As in, twenty or more years from now?  That can’t be good for you - or anyone else.      You may not feel like a “woman” because you prefer short hair, or you don’t like wearing dresses or make-up.  Fine!  Don’t do those things!  Because society dictates what “feminine” is does not make you less of a female.  It simply makes you a person outside of society’s norm.  Please do not let what is concerned “normal” make you do something crazy!  Short hair does not make you less feminine, nor does going without high heels.  Mutilating the the body God gave you -  is not the answer.  God created you in His image!      Don’t get me wrong - you are loved - beyond [illegible, crossed out text] understanding - by God.  And I love you too, no matter what.  But I am worried about you!      As for the name thing. - Your Mother gave you a beautiful name.  A name she chose specifically for you!  Again, do not let society dictate what is or is not a “feminine” or “masculine” name.  I do not understand why a certain name has to be gender specific.  Hence, to me you are [Dead Name] and you always will be.      I’m certain by now you’re upset with me.  I’m sorry.  I figured if I was honest about my feelings you would get angry, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take (I tend to be a bit on the brutal side of brutally honest.)      You know I’m always here for you and no matter what choice you make that will stand.  But please do not let this all be an attention grabber.  Keep praying and discerning.  Keep your spirits up and keep smiling.

Love & hugs, -M

[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