demcnsinmymind - Tumblr blog

[demcnsinmymind]

"Shhhh. It won't be here for much longer. And it will be dead" Lance tries to hush her as he gives her car a quick, somewhat panicked once over. All the doors are locked, of course they are, and no amount of thinking about it or being angry about it changes anything about that. A steadily increasing amount of pressure just behind his left eye is reminding him of the why, a fact that's already starting to be incredibly hard for him to make sense of.

No power. No force. Bubbling underneath. Keeping everything glued together on the inside while wrecking havoc on the outside. This is just him now. Them. And he needs to get her out of here. Because somewhere in the distance, he can hear them already. Sirens. Ambulances. Cops. For a moment, the crescendo of noises all around them is starting to lock him up already, and it's only the feeling of her trembling hand caught between them, fishing for the keys in her pocket that manages to get him to focus again.

On her. They need to get out of here. They're going to get out of here. Out of these goddamn tunnels. Angling one leg up to keep her weight supported, Lance frees one hand from his grip on her and manages to take the keys out of her pocket. Apologizing, over and over again for each abrupt movement, every time he sees and hears her wince. Especially when he puts her in the passenger seat. As gently as he possibly can, fully aware of all the bits and pieces still stuck in her skin. The second she's in the car he's running around it already, stumbles once, which just keeps him going faster. Then he's in the driver's seat, killing the engine once, twice, thrice because it's been fucking years since he last drove a car. Cursing, killing it once more, twice more, until at last, he manages to start her car right up, gets them speeding away from the scene as fast as he can.

For as long as he can, knowing that it's not going to be that much. Because there are so many things working against them right now, against him. The way his hands, no entire body's shaking. With fear. Realization, horror, as it's only just now dawning on him. In a moment of somewhat quiet. Minus the car's roaring motor and the noises Tyler's still making.

How much chaos he left in his wake back there. How many people might've died. That she might die. Hell, that even he might die. Because now that he's got a minute, the gravity of everything else is also starting to crash down on him. It. Being gone right now, too.

Last time it left him to prove a point to her, his downward spiral had been instantaneous. So severe that he cannot even remember any of it to this day. Just the before. And the after. Feels a lot like the before now too. The way it's getting harder and harder for him to focus. The way he's starting to zone out more and more, the way this fucking headache's starting to fucking kill him.

They're nowhere near far enough from the diner, that he knows, too, but he takes the first little side road he can keep his eyes focused on, barely managing the corner on the turning, wheels skipping and drifting around on the dirt and gravel. Driving deeper and deeper into the woods until he almost crashes her car head on into a tree, knows that there's no way he can keep driving like this much longer. Instead, he yanks the door wide open the second the car comes to a stop, engine dying from a fucked up clutch, rolling a bit still. But he's running for the trunk already, slipping in the mud, managing still, to find a first aid kit, anything to help her in there.

Doesn't know anymore if it's right, is starting to have much trouble with telling things apart, no, identifying them already, but still. In no time, he's on the other side of the car, opening her door up. Gentler now, careful not to yank it away from underneath her head. Showing her everything he's managed to take out of her trunk. Whatever it is he's got in his hands.

"I don't have much time. You need to tell me what to use, what to do. So I can help you. I want to help you. I am going to. You'll be alright. We'll all be alright. You just have to stay right here with me, okay? We need to do this together. How bad is it? Where did they get you?"

Shifting all of the things in his hand to one hand only, he moves his other one forward so he can take her hand and squeeze it in a gentle and reassuring way, his shaking just as much as hers. Hazel eyes seeking hers, terrified and worried, yet determined. Trying so very hard to keep things focused and steady for them both. Unaware of the blood that's starting to seep out of the corner of one of them already. Trick trickling down his left cheek like the steady ticking of a clock. One that's counting down down down.

"I won't let them take you, too. Okay? It's just you and me now. It's gone. He's getting what he's got coming for him. It promised me."

The first sign of her coming round is a quiet groan between gasping and wheezing breaths, her lungs desperately pulling in the air that the demon had denied her. Her body is very much not on board with being awake, it’s only through sheer stubbornness that Tyler is able to open her eyes a little, brow creased with effort. Getting them to actually focus on anything is even harder.

When time starts to move normally again the sound feels deafening. The screaming, the voices, the fear, the crunch of footsteps on the debris, and the crashing of furniture. She recoils from it and tries to cover her head with her arms, a croaking sound escaping her that’s as close to a shout as her bruised throat will let her make.

Too much. It’s too much.

What has it done?

Being lifted is far from pleasant, no matter how carefully Lance goes about it. The movement causes bits of debris to be dislodged from her skin, shards of glass falling to join the rest of the mess on the floor. Injuries are jostled and some of the remaining pieces shift in her flesh, pulling another attempted yell from her as she grabs onto him, needing something to hold onto. She’s most definitely hurt, but thankfully the vast majority of the blood isn’t Tyler’s. The distinctive scent of cambion blood is easy to detect, however most of what she’s covered in is a mess of thick and foul smelling gore that has spilled from the demon’s wounds and onto her, so much of it that her shirt is practically drenched in the stuff.

“Wha… Wha’ did it do?” She croaks out, better able to see the state of the room once she’s no longer on the floor. And oh, how she wishes she couldn’t see it. Wide eyes take it all in with absolute horror as her whole body begins to be shiver. It doesn’t even occur to Tyler that her friend could have been the one to cause so much carnage, the immediate assumption being that the demon had done this. A demon that shouldn’t even have been here in the first place.

“It died. It was dead. This can’t— I can’t— It can’t be here, it died, it can’t—" She isn’t able to get her words out properly. But she needs Lance to understand. This isn’t real. This can’t be happening. None of this can be happening. It doesn’t make sense. It’s dead, it’s supposed to be over. This can’t be real. Tyler is still repeatedly mumbling the same denials by the time they reach the car. Clumsy attempts are made to retrieve the keys, one shaking hand reaching for her pocket but missing a few times before she successfully manages to get into it.

Whether her reaction is down to the shock of what’s happened, a concussion from the impact, or a breakdown is unclear. What is clear is that she’s completely dazed, and still so fucking scared.

[demcnsinmymind]

[demcnsinmymind]

who needs starters and replies when you can word vomit in overly lengthy drabbles instead

[demcnsinmymind]

@dyslexic-fool sent 39. Heartache - One Word Writing Prompts - Accepting!

who needs a short drabble when you can make this thing a freaking novel?????? All the Lasha feels.

Unlike all the others, Sasha's vanishing is a slow one.

Little by little. Bit by bit.

Like an infection. Spreading ever so slowly, digging deeper and deeper into her. Scratches, letters no longer just etched into her back, but seeping into her very essence. Mind. Lungs. Muscles. Bones. Her whole body. Taken over. Failing. Breaking apart.

It starts when she has trouble breathing. Probably just from all the moisture and mold down here, it's gonna be alright.

The blood she's coughing up begging to differ.

Then she has trouble walking. He does too. His feet are fucking killing him after god knows how many hours or even days of walking down corridors and stairs that don't make any sense. It's gonna be alright. Just a little bit further. You can do this. Keep walking.

Her weak knees and continued stumbling and tripping making it obvious that this is happening. That this is unstoppable.

For a while, he's doing the best he can with it. Walking slower at first. So it's easier for her to keep up with him. Then helping her walk. Supporting her. Keeping her battered and exhausted body upright. Tries to carry her next, when she keeps falling down. And he hates to admit it, but he's too weak to carry her. Can barely walk himself.

They need to stop and rest, he knows that, too. But still. He keeps them walking. Just a little while longer. The exit's gonna be there any minute now. You'll see.

Soon enough though, it's not just her back that's hurting anymore. Or their feet. His feet. Or his head from the lack of water. Or his eyes from the lack of sleep. It's his heart that's starting to ache too.

Because hers is a slow vanishing.

And he's getting to watch it live and in color. Slow motion. Getting slower still.

Crawling.

And he knows that keeping her going like this is just....cruel at this point. Every gasp that escapes her. Every sob and every whimper...drives that point home. Like a knife diving right into his chest. Every single time. Stab. Stab stab. More pain. Aching right along with her. Because even he has to admit that keeping her walking at this point is bordering on torturing her. A selfish thing to do. Just for his own sanity. Because - that he knows too- stopping...that will make her vanishing a definite fact.

A certainty.

But one he has to submit to eventually. For her sake.

Getting them stranded somewhere in the middle of this never ending tunnel. Stuck. Even more hours that make no sense. Is it even hours, still? Does something like that even exist in here anymore? Maybe it's been days. Or just a few minutes. Whatever the measure, he can feel her getting weaker and weaker...and weaker with each passing of it. Not just that, but she's getting colder, too. Like a corpse at this point. Even with his jacket wrapped up tightly around her small figure.

He tries to keep her in good spirits next. Be there. Comfort her. Because what else can he do now? Keeps talking and talking, not just to the camera, but to her. About the most random shit. Laughing, chuckling, smiling and whatever he can do to try and keep their spirits high.

Hey, remember that time Matt went skinny dipping in that filthy motel pool and the receptionist dragged him out and threatened to sue his skinny ass. Hey, remember Houston's terrible Hamlet reenactment. You know, I never told you but I really liked when you stayed over and forced me to just watch a movie with you. Remember that stupid twist in there? You got so mad at me for 'not getting it'. And he keeps talking and talking and talking even when he knows, no, feels that she's out of it by now, doesn't respond anymore, doesn't seem to even hear.

He keeps it right up anyway, because slowly but surely, it seems like the state of his sanity's directly tied to just that one single fact now. Her. Still being with him. Right by his side. Listening or not. Just living and breathing. Against his neck at first. Then his shoulder. Then his chest. Then his lap. As she crumbles in on herself more and more. Falling asleep at last. After days of not being able to at all. That's a good thing. It's not her dying. Just falling asleep. A deep sleep by the feel of it.

Breath shallow, but steady against him. Not stirring in his arms which he's keeping around her like an iron cage, falling silent. Just watching her. Pale face still speckled with blood. Looking so tired. The sight of her has him on the verge of breaking, breaking, breaking all over again, but not quite yet. Not yet. Never. Because he still has her to look out for. To keep encouraging. To keep going. To cling to. So that's what he does.

I need you to do this with me. I can't do this alone.

He told her, not too long ago. Somewhere over there. No...there. A shaky sigh. Eyes traveling up at the ceiling instead. Red from crying and lack of sleep, but narrowing. A mixture of desperation and determination.

You're not taking her from me, too. Not her.

He's telling the building now. All around him. Making noises. Ominous, but distant. Almost subdued by now, down here. Like it's just watching them. Waiting. After having taken so much already.

Matt.

Somewhere back there in complete darkness.

On the ground like that. Covered in blood. Head and limbs at a weird angle. Eyes wide open and unblinking. That had almost been enough to crack him the first time. But not quite yet. No, not yet. Not after T.C. either. In that bathtub. In a rush of blood. Or Houston. One second he's behind them, then he's just....gone. All of them. Gone. So suddenly. So abruptly. So...violently.

But everything has been slowing down to a crawl now. Ever since Matt fell. And she's still here now. In his arms. Hasn't been taken so abruptly. Not letting her go. And even though he's starved, thirsty, exhausted and at the absolute bottom, Lance is still an optimist at heart. And he's starting to think that maybe, this is just it.

Her vanishing is a slow one.

Crawling.

One that he can still halt. Hold on to. Suspend.

Just enough for them to be found. Or for him to find the exit. Soon. It has to be down here after all. Kenny said the tunnels connected all the buildings together. So soon enough...they'll pass a threshold. The threshold. Where this fucked up building ends and the others start. Normal ones. And they'll get out of here. And he'll get help for her. She'll be helped. By people who are physically strong enough to bring her to safety down that last mile. Carry her right out of here.

No. Fuck it. He'll carry her himself. Tomorrow. They're getting out of here. She's getting out of here. And he most definitely is.

All he has to do is rest. So fucking tired. Get his strength back. For her. For them. They can do this. Anything happens? He'll be woken up anyway. By more screaming. And running. That's the way they've all been taken, right? And who knows.

Maybe it doesn't want to take her. Maybe it is done playing with them now. Maybe it got what it wanted with Matt. And T.C. and Houston. A thought in itself that almost fucking breaks him, too. His mind. His soul. His fucking heart. Making him cry all over again, cling to her harder.

But hey, at this stage...he'll take anything. If them having been chewed up means that at least she gets to make it out of this alive....let it be this way. A horrifying, but necessary sacrifice to one fucked up fucking monster. He can take it. He will take it.

They will get out of here. Away from it. Take their chance.

This time, it's exhaustion.

Sleep. Taking him abruptly. Without warning.

Arms still wrapped around her small figure in his lap. Going limp. For just a second. Or a minute. Or an hour or however long. Just a second. He'll keep telling himself for years to come. Just a second and she's gone. In a cloud of smoke and nothingness.

Taking the last remnants of his sanity right with him.

It's the first time he experiences true and unfiltered, utter heartache. Heartbreak. Waking up. Not finding her. Needing her. Suffering. Instantly despairing. Screaming her name over and over again only to find himself.... alone.

I need you to do this with me. I can't do this alone.

That's what he'd told her and in a fucked up way...he, or they or it, whatever this fucking monster is...it seems to have heard the message. Acted on it. Twisting it just like everything else it does in here. Time. Corridors. Tunnels. Halls, his mind and even.....people.

Her vanishing, a slow one.

But never quite a full one.

Its twisted form of mercy on him. The only survivor now.

Because even now, in this room, at night, she's still there. Keeps coming right back to him. In the corner sometimes. Words upon words upon words framing her like a halo on yellow walls. A true testament to his state of a failing, shattered mind. Staring at him with bloodshot red eyes, past tear stained cheeks. Front of her white robe stained red from the blood coming out of her mouth in a steady flow.

Ice cold hands and fingers digging into his chest and stomach next. When she's right behind him in the excuse of a bed, making it creak from the weight of two people who shouldn't even be here. She most definitely shouldn't be and he knows she's not, but still.

It sounds real. The way she's making the bed creak with each shiver and shake from her body. Her sobbing. Coughing. Crying. Begging for her mom. Shouting into his ear, asking him all these questions he keeps asking himself over and over again, too. Why'd you lock the door, Lance? Why did you keep shooting your stupid show even when we started dying? Why did you tell me we'd get out of here when we're still here, will always be here because of you? Why did you let them take me? Why did you fall asleep. Why...

Icecold fingers digging deeper and deeper into the skin covering his stomach, oh the beauty of the pain of starvation, and his chest, oh the beauty of true and gutwrenching grief and heartache.

Just like in those tunnels, her hands on him, her body against his, her dying breath in his ear is gone each time that he wakes up, turns around to look at her.

Alone and in a bed, room, building, time he does not belong in.

But right now? In this very moment? Despite the pain, the terror, the guilt?

It's an act of punishment, of mercy from it that he'll gladly take. That pain the only true reminder of what once was, could've been. Should've been. That she was there. That she was real. That they all were real. In 2003. Despite what everyone, what Friedkin wants him to believe.

[demcnsinmymind]

@messiahrisen sent 02. — kiss (because why not) - One Word Writing Prompts - Accepting!

This always does seem to happen, doesn't it? Even now. In a world gone to shit. With his mind gone to shit. People. Friends. Taking an interest. Trying to spin this into something more. Though it does surprise him that this time, it's coming from this guy.

Don't get him wrong. Murphy's been giving off the vibes just fine. Pretty much the second they crossed paths. The way he carries himself. The way he looks at not just the women in his compound, but the men as well. With Wesson pretty high on that list and beyond eager to stay there.

But still, it does come out of nowhere and at first, it's the surprise mostly, which makes him back off, deny it. What follows quickly after is the skepticism. Distrust. Most certainly all that paranoia still. Keeping him even further away.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" he asks, outright. Eyes narrowing.

[demcnsinmymind]

Tried to write but the writing just ain't writing 😩

[demcnsinmymind]

[demcnsinmymind]

getting ready to post replies to threads with @badassxbirdy and @shellcrack @shctsfired and @greatwrath:

it's the demon/Matt/outbreak/cemetery threads:

[demcnsinmymind]

One Word Writing Prompts

Send me a number 1 thru 50 for a word that I’ll use to write either a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🌀 for a random number instead.

01. — first 02. — kiss 03. — final 04. — numb 05. — broken 06. — wings 07. — melody 08. — rules 09. — chocolate 10. — nostalgia 11. — heartbeat 12. — stranger 13. — confusion 14. — bitter 15. — afterlife 16. — daybreak 17. — audience 18. — endless 19. — fireworks 20. — wishing 21. — birthday 22. — tomorrow 23. — oppression 24. — agony 25. — return 26. — protection 27. — boxes 28. — hope 29. — preparation 30. — beautiful 31. — lies 32. — underneath 33. — hide 34. — diary 35. — unforeseen 36. — conditional 37. — gone 38. — clear 39. — heartache 40. — wired 41. — insanity 42. — foolish 43. — words 44. — study 45. — love 46. — skies 47. — stars 48. — lucky 49. — shake 50. — punctual

[demcnsinmymind]

A few meetings. Knowing this guy, that absolutely comes as no surprise but still, reading this makes Lance smirk and snort a bit. Busy busy busy man. Still cannot decide if he envies the guy or not. Sometimes he misses the old times of being just as much of a workaholic. Other times? Not really. With a sigh (and yet another curse because jfc why can't phones still have physical buttons), he shoots a reply back.

[txt];; Any chance I can talk to her directly and not through you? Or do you want to keep middle-manning? Fine with either. Just curious abt her.

Flung himself at them. Now that gets a chuckle out of him as he looks back up, lets his eyes roam all over the empty house.

[txt];; about that....

[txt];; might still be in WA. Playing bait. Bait no one's taken so far :( where u at? Getting bored.

Clark was a multitasker. He thrived on the chaos of having so much to do, thrived on somehow managing it all. He liked to stay busy and that meant he was up to other things besides just helping Lance take down a whole ass cult.

[txt];; I was going to forward you details this evening once I'm back from a few meetings. She found a handful of off-shore accounts but it doesn't account for all their funds. She's got a suspicion they have some well-hidden shell companies. It'll take her another week to put names and faces to those but I'd say we're otherwise good to proceed.

[txt];; Glad to see you're still alive. I'd figured a full week of no in person meeting and you'd have flung yourself at them.

[demcnsinmymind]

In a different world, maybe all of this would almost be funny. The way he always manages to outrun hunters without any actual running needed. Just...getting himself out of the situation, be that through zigzagging, or outsmarting, or what fucking ever. It really is a surprise how often it has worked so far.

But of course. He knows that it's bound to fail some day, that one day one of them is going to outsmart him in return. So he stays extra careful. Keeps an eye out literally all the time as he gets out of their reach. Continuously looking over his shoulder just to make sure. And all around himself. It's during one of those head turns that he runs straight into someone and the collision takes him by so much surprise that he cannot possibly keep a little yelp inside. Half expecting to find a knife sticking out of his chest or something, though the lack of a reaction from his hitchhiker lets him know that there doesn't seem to be any serious threat. For now.

And it's now that the smell of alcohol hits him, too.

Just a patron, stumbling out of a bar. Very drunk by the looks of it. Wobbly indeed. So many things he could say and do. Right now though? Shit, he'll take a drunk person over a hunter any day.

"It's fine. No harm done" he says, pretty eager to keep going in the other direction anyway....though it doesn't take him long to notice that she's headed straight for the street he's come from. The one he knows they are. Gun totting trigger happy douchebags. Shouldn't be his problem either, should be a pretty good distraction anyway, which keeps him walking. Walking still until at last....damn it, conscience speaking up. Reminding him once again that he's not the monster they think he is. Slowing down. Stopping. Turning back around again. Looking at her. It's obvious that he's in a hurry. Conflicted. But he says it still.

"Word of advice? Don't go in that direction."

@demcnsinmymind gets a starter

It had been a while since she had a case so bad she felt the need to drown herself in booze. Of course, she always told herself not to let it get to her and, yet, here she was again.

She pushed out the door, wincing slightly at the darkness and cold that met her as she did. She'd driven in worst condition, so she wasn't worried about that. It was more the fact that she didn't have anymore booze at the motel, and there was no way anyone was going to sell her any in her current state. Hindsight, 20/20, right?

The parking lot was behind the bar, and she didn't trust the alley no matter how good with a gun she was, so she took the route around the building instead. Which would be when her drunk ass stumbled into someone else.

"Shit," she barely kept her footing, looking up at the guy. "Sorry, man. S'little wobbly out tonight."

[demcnsinmymind]

@shellcrack asked :❤️‍🔥what’s their most erogenous zone? | 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | Accepting!

Definitely his neck, but also scalp and inner things. Also extra points for hands! So much about touching and being touched. But yeah, the neck's pretty high up there. Quite literally haha.

[demcnsinmymind]

@little-miss-buffy asked : 🏬would they have sex in public? if so, how public is too public? | 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 | Accepting!

Given the whole actor/director/tv host thing, I absolutely do HC him as a mild form of an exhibitionist. Having said that, there absolutely are some limits like crowded open spaces and places where one can expect people who do not want to see that and he would never make it about that. But a sneaky thing behind a bar or in a room that's technically accessible by other people certainly isn't off the table, quite the opposite, there's a thrill to it that he definitely digs. But it's more about the thrill of the possibility of getting caught or seen, but not at all about actually being caught or seen and putting on a show for people. In that regard, he's a bit more on the vanilla side. So if we're talking 'public' we're talking rooms/spaces that aren't a bedroom/motel room and could just be somewhere secluded outside or a car or whatever, but definitely not out in the general public.

[demcnsinmymind]

He opened a gateway, you know? Friedkin did. He took the real world, and the spirit world, and he smashed them together.

[demcnsinmymind]

@perzysprumia sent : “I want to know why you care.” -hope

That really is the question, isn't it? Why the fuck does he care about someone else's freaking kid? Especially since said someone else also just happens to be the dude who killed him once, though that feels like it happened forever ago now.

He just looks at her in silence as he thinks it through. Really does. And there really are so many possible answers. Because you're incredibly powerful and that thing inside my brain cares all about that. More power. And that's probably just seeping into my brain, too. Then again, deep down, he knows that this isn't just it. Not even by a long shot. Because you come from fucked up circumstances and one fucked up family and maybe, by caring and wanting you on a good path, I get to think that there really is a way out of this mess. That's probably not entirely it either. After all, he already knows that there are ways out of it. Multiple ways.

In the end, he says something else entirely. Something that's true in a way, too. Even though he honestly doesn't know the detailed percentage of.

"You know, I've spent the majority of my life not giving a shit about anyone but myself. And that worked out fine for a while. But the trouble starts when that self falls apart and you don't even know who you are anymore. And when you're the only person you're counting on and that only person gets fucked up...you don't really have anyone, do you" he's rambling a bit, but it's getting the point across, he supposes.

"I'm tired of not having or not caring about anyone but myself. And it's not even just that...I just do. Now. Honestly? I'm still trying to figure that one out myself. I know it doesn't make any sense whatsoever."

He falls silent for a moment longer, still trying to figure it out. But it's not exactly frustrating anymore. Actually pretty intriguing.

"Hell, I don't know. I just know that you're someone worth caring about. So I do."

[demcnsinmymind]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

🧑‍🤝‍🧑🧑‍🤝‍🧑how do they feel about having multiple partners at once? have they ever done it? 🪢do they have a kink? if so, what is it? 💸have they ever or would they ever accept money or gifts in exchange for sex? 🍆how do they feel about toys? do they have any? what’s their favorite? do they use them with partners? 🌙do they need an emotional connection or are one-night-stands an option? 🫂how do they feel about friends with benefits? 🍒how old were they when they lost their virginity? to whom? was it significant? 🏳️‍🌈what’s their sexual orientation? have they ever experimented outside of that [for more binary orientations such as heterosexual/homosexual]? 👄do they prefer oral or penetrative sex more? ↕️are they a sub, dom, or switch? top, bottom, or switch? 🛏️what’s their favorite position? 🔢what’s their body count? 🕒what’s the longest time they went without engaging in sexual activity with a partner? [masturbation doesn’t count] 👀how do they feel about voyeurism? exhibitionism? 🏬would they have sex in public? if so, how public is too public? 🤪what’s the wildest place they’ve ever done something sexual? ❤️‍🔥what’s their most erogenous zone? 💋do they like to kiss while having sex? do they cuddle afterward? 💦what’s their immediate post-orgasm reaction? 🫶what does after care look like for them?

[demcnsinmymind]

another thing that never fails to amuse me is how offended Lance gets when anyone hits him with the typical demonic possession lore like I'm sorry you're going through this and that this thing took so many things from u and is possessing u and is taking ur choice awa... And he's just immediately like

Excuse u, that was my choice, I quite literally asked it to squat and protect my ass and ackschually it chose me, m'kay. We chose each other, m'kay??????

Nevermind the fact that he had to make that choice while starving, completely isolated after being kidnapped, and while like a second away from quite literally getting stabbed to death. But sure buddy, you definitely made that choice for shits and giggles and it totally chose you because it just wants to be your friend, no one's exploiting you at all or anything, no sir. You're just besties and this one's totally different just because it lets you steer the boat 80 per cent of the time. Never mind the 20 per cent where it doesn't let you steer the boat. Nah, that's just for your protection and to keep saving your life, sure sure.