#Angel Faith after before surgery

[rainbow-neko-artblog]

I don't know if you've answered this question b4 but is Angel a toy or a human? it was shown that they were a toy in one of your comics but they bleed and lived outside the facility so presumably they look human enough.

Here's EVERYTHING you need to know about Angel.

Angel is only HALF Toy.

This was mentioned several times through the story and when I first posted them, basically the process of toyification to me is several convoluted surgerys and many experiments.

Basically, Angel was an orphan in Playcare, but they grew up smart enough to be recruited as an employee. Once they were an employee they found out the horrific trueth of what Playtime was really doing to the children and was terribly repulsed and frightened. In order to keep their reputation, Playtime Co. Typically turned employees that found out to much into toys- and they were planning on doing that to Angel.

Angel fled from the Playtime factory mid surgery- leaving half their body as unmodeled plastic and rearranged muscles, the other half (while scarred) is still relatively human. Most normal people think that Angel is just badly injured with plastic prosthetics, not that the plastic is actually part of them.

When they first fled, Playtime factory inexplicably shut down after everyone disappeared (hour of joy)...with no way to sue an abandoned company- Angel was homeless and unfortunatly most peoppe wouldnt hire them due to their general lack of....everything. theyre an orphan. They ended up taking residence in a kindly church and becoming a kind pacifist man of faith.

When they received their letter from Playtime about their missing coworkers, calling them back after 10 years? They thought it was a sign from God to save and redeem what they had done so long ago. The people they abandoned. The fact that they helped the factory before they found out about its darker side.

They've basically spent the last 10 years under the impression that they are partly responsible for what happened to the kids (they really werent...but they're guilt ridden.) And are using now, and their shared toyification with them, to redeem themself and the kids.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Are we ever told in the books if Armand actually regrets what he did to Claudia? Does he have genuine remorse?

.... I think it is implied.

It... does read as if he does? At least a bit. But... it's "only" implied:

Let me say here, she was herself again, hideously wounded, a botched reassemblage of the angelic child she'd been before my attempts, when she was locked out in the brutal morning to meet her death with a clear mind. The fire of Heaven destroyed the awful unhealed evidence of my Satanic surgery as it turned her to a monument in ash. No evidence remained of her last hours within the torture chamber of my makeshift laboratory. No one need ever have known what I say now. For many a year, she haunted me. I could not strike from my mind the faltering image of her girlish head and tumbling curls fixed awkwardly with gross black stitching to the flailing, faltering and falling body of a female vampire whose discarded head I'd thrown into the fire. Ah, what a grand disaster was that, the child-headed monster woman unable to speak, dancing in a frenetic circle, the blood gurgling from her shuddering mouth, her eyes rolling, arms flapping like the broken bones of invisible wings. It was a truth I vowed to conceal forever from Louis de Pointe du Lac and all whoever questioned me. Better let them think that I had condemned her without trying to effect her escape, both from the vampires of the theatre and from the wretched dilemma of her small, enticing, flat-chested and silken-skinned angelic form. She was not fit for deliverance after the failure of my butchery; she was as a prisoner subjected to the cruelty of the rack who can only smile bitterly and dreamily as she is led, torn and miserable, to the final horror of the stake. She was as a hopeless patient, in the reeking antiseptic death cubicle of a modern hospital, freed at last from the hands of youthful and overzealous doctors, to give up the ghost on a white pillow alone. Enough. I won't relive it. I will not. I never loved her. I didn't know how. I carried out my schemes in chilling detachment and with fiendish pragmatism. Being condemned and therefore being nothing and no one, she was a perfect specimen for my whim. That was the horror of it, the secret horror which eclipsed any faith I might have pleaded later in the high-blown courage of my experiments. And so the secret remained with me, with Armand, who had witnessed centuries of unspeakable and refined cruelties, a story unfit for the tender ears of a desperate Louis, who could never have borne such descriptions of her degradation or suffering, and who did not truly, in his soul, survive her death, cruel as it was.

... I think, in his own way, he does. He says she haunted him, as that "failed experiment".

But he says it there, in the end, he has "witnessed centuries of unspeakable and refined cruelties"... and I think it desensitized him.

And so I think he knows he regrets it, and probably feels it, deep within, but cannot quite articulate it, if that makes sense.

[headchamberlain]

The confession of Ivan Goncharov.

TW: TWISTED religious imagery, excusing abuse and even calling it a blessing, unhealthy obsession, overall disturbing things.

In this I'll be trying to flesh out Ivan's character, why he's the way he is and how the lobotomy affects him today. This is written from his perspective. Take the tags seriously, please.

...

"IT ALL STARTED SO LONG AGO.

HOW LONG AGO? I CANT REMEMBER. I DONT NEED TO REMEMBER. ANYTHING BEFORE MEETING YOU IS INSIGNIFICANT. MY FAMILY... MY FRIENDS- IF I HAD ANY- THEY'RE INSIGNIFICANT NOW. NOTHING BUT SOMETHING I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE, SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR. BUT THEY DONT UNDERSTAND ME. THEY DONT UNDERSTAND ME LIKE YOU DO, MASTER.

I WAS STRUGGLING. I COULDN'T CONTROL ANYTHING. NOT EVEN MY OWN LIFE. IT KEPT GOING DOWNHILL. I WAS HANGING ON- I HUNG ON BY A THREAD- BUT EVEN THEN I GAVE UP AND LET GO. I WAS SO LONELY. WHAT DID YOU SEE IN ME, MASTER? I WAS HOPELESS. I WAS WEAK. I'D LOST MY FAITH; IN FACT, I BELIEVED GOD HATED ME. I BELIEVED GOD JUST WANTED ME TO SUFFER FOR HIS ENTERTAINMENT. BUT THAT WAS UNTIL YOU CAME. YOU OFFERED ME A HAND. YOU SAID I HAD THE POTENTIAL TO BECOME MORE THAN WHAT I AM. I DIDN'T BELIEVE YOU. YOU TOLD ME YOU HAD A WAY TO FIX ME- TO MAKE SURE I NEVER FELT THOSE HIDEOUS, HORRIBLE EMOTIONS AGAIN. I WAS INTERESTED. I TOOK YOUR HAND. YOUR HAND WAS SO COLD, MASTER... BUT IT WAS SO WARM. YOUR FINGERS WERE BONY AND THIN. YOU WERE SO PALE. YOU WERE SO TIRED. I COULD TELL YOU WERE WEAK, TOO. BUY YOU WERE FAR FROM THAT.

A SURGERY, YOU SAID. A SURGERY THAT WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY AGAIN. FOREVER. I TOLD YOU THAT WAS INSANE. I TOLD YOU THAT WOULD BE HORRIBLE. BUT YOU TOLD ME TO THINK ABOUT IT. WOULD I GET THIS CHANCE AGAIN? WOULD MY LIFE EVER GET BETTER? YOU WERE A MESSENGER FROM GOD, I REALISED. YOU HAD ANGELS AT YOUR HAND, WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER. WHY ME, I ASKED? WHY AM I BEING CHOSEN TO BE BLESSED? WHY IS A PIECE OF FILTH LIKE ME CAPABLE OF HAVING THIS KINDNESS? BECAUSE, YOU TOLD ME, THAT YOU SPOKE WITH GOD. AND GOD SAID HE NEEDED ME TO LIVE.

YOU ARE A BLESSING, MASTER. YOU REALLY ARE. I COULD WORSHIP YOU. I COULD WORSHIP EVERYTHING YOU DO. IF I DIED I WOULD WANT TO DIE WORSHIPPING YOU. PEOPLE TOLD ME I WAS INSANE, THAT I WOULD GO TO HELL FOR WORSHIPPING YOU, BUT I KNEW THEY WERE WRONG. THEY HADN'T HAD A CHANCE TO MEET YOU. YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO ME. PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND YOUR ACTIONS LIKE I DO, MASTER. PEOPLE SAID WHAT YOU DID WAS EVIL; SUCH HENIOUS CRIMES, THEY WOULD SAY. BUT IS DESTRUCTION AND WAR REALLY A SIN? IS IT NOT CONSIDERED RIGHTEOUS? WHEN THE ANGELS CAME DOWN WITH TRUMPETS TO DESTROY THE EARTH, WAS IT NOT GOD'S WILL? WAS IT NOT HIS WILL TO TURN THE RIVERS AND LAKES TO BLOOD, TO UNLEASH DEMONS THAT SPOKE BLASPHEMOUS THINGS? YOU ARE RE-CONSTRUCTING THE EARTH. WHEN BUILDINGS FALL AND BURN, WHEN PEOPLE DIE, YOU ARE DOING IT TO FREE THE WORLD OF SIN. WHEN GOD FLOODED THE EARTH THAT IS WHAT HE DID. HE PROMISED HE WOULDN'T DO IT AGAIN, SO HE SENT YOU INSTEAD. EVEN GOD'S LOVE HAS LIMITS.

AFTER MY SURGERY, I WAS TERRIFIED, MASTER. I WAS TERRIFIED. I PICKED UP A PEN; BUT NOTHING CAME TO MIND. I COULDN'T WRITE. I COULDN'T READ. I SOBBED, MASTER, I SOBBED; BUT I SOBBED WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE. WASN'T MY VOICE SO BEAUTIFUL? WASN'T IT BEAUTIFUL THAT I CHOKED AND SOBBED IN THE PRESENCE OF THE LORD? WASN'T IT BEAUTIFUL HOW I COULDN'T GET A WORD OUT, HOW FAT TEARS ROLLED DOWN MY CHEEKS AND STAINED THE CARPET? YOU WEREN'T ANGRY AT ME. YOU BLESSED ME AGAIN, MASTER. YOU BLESSED ME WITH PURPOSE; I LEARNED EVERYTHING FOR YOU. I LEARNED HOW TO COOK, I LEARNED HOW TO CLEAN, I LEARNED YOUR TASTES. WHAT KIND OF TEA YOU LIKE, WHAT FABRICS YOU PREFER, HOW WARM YOU WANT YOUR BATH. I LEARNED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU AND I MEMORIZED IT. THAT IS MY ONLY PURPOSE, MASTER, TO SERVE YOU.

I WELCOMED EACH BLESSING YOU GAVE ME; I WELCOMED THE BRUISES YOU GAVE ME, I WELCOMED THEM ALL. I WANT YOU TO HIT ME ALL YOU WANT AND THEN KISS THE BRUISES AFTERWARDS. I WANT YOU TO TEAR ME APART AND SAY SORRY AFTERWARDS, EVEN IF I KNOW YOU DON'T MEAN IT, EVEN IF I KNOW YOU'LL DO IT AGAIN. OVER AND OVER.

IS IT SO WRONG FOR ME TO BE YOUR TOY? IS IT REALLY SO WRONG? IS IT SO WRONG FOR ME TO BE YOUR SOURCE OF ENTERTAINMENT? BEING GOD'S FAVOURITE COMES WITH RESPONSIBILITIES. GOD NEEDS SOMEONE TO HURT, SOMEONE TO TOY WITH, SOMEONE TO RUIN.

AREN'T I BEAUTIFUL, MASTER? PLEASE SAY I'M BEAUTIFUL. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME. TELL ME YOU LOVE ME AND ILL BE BEGGING FOR YOUR ATTENTION LIKE A DOG.

PLEASE LOOK AT ME MASTER. PLEASE LOVE ME. I LOVE YOU MASTER. PLEASE LOOK AT ME. PLEASE LOOK AT ME, I'M BEGGING YOU, MASTER, DONT STOP BEING MY SAVIOR. DON'T STOP BEING THE ONE PERSON I RELY ON. I CANT FUNCTION WITHOUT YOU. I KNOW YOU SO MUCH IVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING ABOUT MYSELF. I DON'T HAVE MY OWN ROUTINE, MY LIFE REVOLVES AROUND YOU. I CANT LEAVE YOU EVEN IF I WAS GIVEN A CHANCE TO, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.

IM YOUR PERFECT SACRIFICAL LAMB. MY WOOL IS SO PURE AND WHITE AND FLUFFY AND SOFT. WHEN THEY LEAD ME TO YOU THEY DONT HAVE TO TIE ME DOWN- I HOLD PERFECTLY STILL WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE. AS THE KNIFE DIGS INTO ME MY INTESTINES SPILL OUT SO BEAUTIFULLY AND CLEANLY AND IT STAINS MY PRETTY WOOL RED. WHEN I DIE YOU REVIVE ME AGAIN AND YOU TELL ME IM YOUR FAVOURITE. YOU DONT REVIVE THE OTHER LAMBS BECAUSE IM YOUR FAVOURITE. I TROT ALONG SO HAPPILY BECAUSE IM YOUR FAVOURITE. IM SO PURE LIKE A PORCELAIN DOLL LIKE A FLOWER LIKE AN ANGEL THAT LOST ITS WINGS.

PLEASE LOOK AT ME MASTER.

PLEASE."

... -Written by Kiji!!!

If you've actually read all of this; I'm proud!

[oldmen-enjoyer]

JOHN "???" WARD

THE GARDENER, THE HOST, THE TWO-FACE.

[FROM NOW-ON, THIS WILL TAG AS FAITH TEXAN AU FOR SORTING PURPOSES]

The reference picture is post-amy incident.

John Ward is current host to the Sickler (unseeable/jagged-jazz, ect) for more than 10 years. After the recent incident of (literal) botched exorcist with Amy Matins and Father Allred, John choose to banished the entity influenced on his decisions. Unfortunately they share more than a mind to be completely seperate.

Jokingly called John psyWard (not in-lore)

This John is late 30s (37~39)

John Ward is same-person name but due to the hosting, is now used as seperate. Ward is described as Sickler part.

Shaped like a hen.

Physically really fits even after falling off his daily routine (can bend Gary in half if given reasons)

Have extreme passion for cooking and extremely niche on how it should go. This is shared and encouraged trait by Sickler. Gardening go along this line.

Morally is, fucked up grey (to put it lightly)

Divorced Molly ages ago before meeting Gary and Amy incident

Used to date a Normal Human Being years ago before their relationship turn into bitter rivalry and seething hatred.

If injured, required blood to replaced the missing space (vampiric: manually)

And reason why guy's so pale.

Trans but cis passing so hard that he forgot that (thanks to wonder of literal body modifications offered by Sickler.)

"Who's Thomas."

189 cm tall

Sound AND inspired from Paul Hill from Midnight Mass (the autism in his eyes is strong.)

[SHIRTLESS REF]

Fortunately, still a cat person (figurative)

[FREE_SPACE_HERE.JPG]

GARY "???" MILLER

[THIS IS A SHARED HEADCANNONS, IF YOU WANT MORE INFORMATION PLEASE ASK @aless-was-here BECAUSE THAT'S GARY.]

Nicknamed Tarot-boy both affectionately and insultingly by other demons

Is equipvelent of "Popular Girl" in hell. Got quite a portion of people in court to kiss his shoes when he's away.

Trans and evil (keep top surgery scars even through reincarnation for the jig of it)

Gary Miller, not much is known in past life aside from being certain Duke of hell summoned to be reborn as baby boy, adopted by Miriam. And, by rumours, Father Gray. (Is debunked to be false, GRAY IS NOT YOUR FATHER.)

Abortion slays, Landlord evil

Have little brother named "Mike Miller" (Raum), not reincarnated together.

Is a dooting big brother.

Voice of smooth jazz singer with hint of rasp as a treat.

Charismaniac slug, oozing with charms and grins like bastard

Cat person (literal)

According to Aless, use old spice and not axe spray. According to my other friend, pats cow blood on the pits and call it a day.

197 cm tall

Body of athlete who haven't been working out for years

53 years old shroom slug

Trauma-bombed and pranked by Sickler

John's movable finely aged blood wine (where all biting come from)

Allergic to church and have to drink a herbal mixture to repressed the sickness (made out of Mandrake)

[CULTIST SIMULATOR + Conjured form]

[BEHOLD, AN ANGEL]

[TRUE-TRUE FORM OF GARY, IS FLOWERS]

[BACKGROUND CHARACTERS THAT MENTIONED: FATHER GRAY, FATHER JONAS, "???" KORNE, "???" KARLSON]

[>Father Gray: extremely dead, had very complicated and unwanted (neg) relationship with Miriam before being discarded as a dead husk. Currently is still a husk but is moved unwillingly. The spirit is long dead. There's no single trace of humanity behind those eyes.]

[>Father/Big Brother Jonas: (???) Story unfold soon but, is very much insane and devoted to Sickler. Have father/son relationship with Gray]

[Korne: a tool, a husk.]

[Karlson: mouth piece for Song.S, will be talked in future later. For now, is assistance to Jonas's plans.]

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Twenty Eight.

Huge thanks for your engagement on this, besties. I appreciate those of you who are still taking the time to read and offer feedback hugely :) Just one more chapter and an epilogue left after this one. Thanks for sticking with me to those of you who have! 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen  Sixteen  Seventeen  Eighteen  Nineteen  Twenty Twenty One  Twenty Two  Twenty Three  Twenty Four  Twenty Five  Twenty Six  Twenty Seven

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,948

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Angel just got here, I’m gonna go out and meet him, babe.”  

Meryl nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave her daughter for a second, lying there in the hospital bed, clinging to life, wires poking out from her arms and hands, a machine breathing for her. David placed a kiss on her head before departing, the weight of the situation heavy upon his broad shoulders. Nurses smiled kindly at him as he passed, him nodding in acknowledgement, his chest tight with the tension.  

She might not have been his by biology, but that was his kid in there. His little. She had to be okay, because losing her at just twenty-three wasn’t an option. No parent should ever have to bury their child, and no young woman deserved to have her life cut short so cruelly when she was only at the very beginning of going out there to live it.  

A gentle nudge from a woman he’d been standing next to waiting for the elevator roused him, David shaking himself, stepping in and pressing the button for the ground floor. When he arrived outside, Angel was pacing with a cigarette, pale, eyes wide. As he expected.  

“What happened? Is she alright?”

David steadied him with a hand to his shoulder, shaking his head. “She’s in a bad way, Angel. The Uber she was in got hit by a truck on the freeway, the driver was killed instantly, and it took the fire department a half hour to cut her from the wreckage, after which she’d lost a dangerous amount of blood.  

“Her injuries are severe, and she was taken for emergency surgery as soon as she arrived. I want you to brace yourself when you see her, because she don’t look like Keri right now. They had to shave half her hair to operate on her brain, relieve the pressure from the swelling, which they did, but her injuries are so extensive that the next twenty-four hours remain critical. We’ve been told to prepare ourselves for the worst.”

It was as if someone had injected ice into his veins, his entire body trembling in chill, the fear swelling within him as he nodded dumbly, David putting his arm around his shoulders and guiding him into the building. His whole body felt rigid, his feet shuffling him forward without conscious thought, disbelief hanging over him like a fog.

This couldn’t be happening.  

Not to her, not to them. Not his Keri.  

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered in the elevator, rubbing his face with his hand. “I just...”

David nodded, gripping his shoulder firmly. “I know. Don’t matter how bleak it all is, we gotta keep faith, hold hope that she’ll recover. She needs us to.”  

He nodded, a lump rising in his throat, one that he managed to hang onto, until he actually saw her.  

“Fuck,” he winced, having to turn away and take a deep breath, seeing here lying there like that, walking to her side and leaning to gently kiss her head. “I’m here, baby. I love you so fucking much. We’re all here, and we ain’t going anywhere, not until you wake up. Please wake up soon, Keri.” Reaching across the bed, he grasped Meryl’s hand, her tear-streaked face brightening into a smile for him.  

“I’m so glad you’re here, love.”

“Ain’t no other place I’d be.” He let go after a few seconds, his fingers finding Keri’s, her hand a mess of tubes and cuts, her beautiful face blackened by bruising. It didn’t feel real, how in the space of a few hours his entire world had been capsized. Why was this happening to her?

“I’m gonna go to the machine and get a coffee,” David stated, looking between them. “You guys want anything?”

They shook their heads, Meryl thanking him anyway, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

“How did it all happen? David didn’t go into detail.”  

She took a deep breath, tremored, the story she’d heard from Sunni still crashing against her insides like a tornado. She felt fortunate at least, that someone who loved Keri so much had been there to attend to her as soon as she’d arrived, although her heart went out to him, having to remain professional while he treated his niece, all the emotion he must have had to push deep down. “A truck had a tire blow out, hit the Uber side on, propelling it into the path of another truck and sending the vehicle into a roll.  

“The guy in the second truck managed to break sharply, more cars hit the back of him, too. It was a huge pile up. He got out and went straight to their aid, saw the driver was dead, but Keri was apparently still conscious. He called for the emergency services, crawled partly into the wreck of the car and pressed his shirt against her shoulder wound, where part of the windscreen had pierced through. He stayed with her, too, and gave his account of what happened to the paramedics.  

“She was taken to the OR, where they operated to repair her shoulder and the damage to her chest cavity, also to stop the swelling and bleeding on her brain. We’ll only know how bad it is once she's stable enough to be scanned, but at this point, they’re only giving her a twenty percent chance of surviving through the night, her injuries are so huge.”  

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, fingers tightening on hers as much as he dared, reaching to gently stroke her face. “She’s a fighter. She’ll get through it, and I ain’t leaving until she does.”

“She’d better,” Meryl choked, sobbing, “because I can’t fucking lose her, too. Not my little girl as well.” Angel moved to her side in an instant, crouching to wrap her in a hug, Meryl falling apart into floods of tears as she held onto him tightly. “Oh god, Angel. I just... I can’t. What if we lose her?”

He was soft, yet staunch in his reply. “We aren’t going to. She’s hurt badly, but she’s gonna be fine. She has to be. It ain’t her time yet.” Unravelling from her, he touched a hand to her cheek, raising his eyebrows. “All this is, is the biggest Calamity Joe stunt she’s ever pulled, and we’re gonna tell her that when she wakes up, ain’t we?”

He wondered for a second if his words were poorly timed, his effort to try and give Meryl a little lightness. When she laughed softly through her nose and kissed his forehead, he saw it was perhaps just what she needed. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is. And we will.”  

The hours that followed showed her stats stabilising, but by no means was she out of the woods. Her friends arrived one by one, Frankie and Jaime first, the former literally collapsing in tears, Angel having to pick her up off the floor after her legs had given way from under her. He sat her on his lap, holding her tight as she held Keri’s hand, talking to her, telling her how much she loved her.

“This kid has a damned tough skull. She’s made it through alive this far when in all honesty, she could have died right there in the wreckage. That’s what it is, her tough skull,” Meryl spoke, reaching to squeeze Frankie’s arm. “Remember when you guys were nine, and you decided to use a refuse bag to go sliding down the stairs, and Keri’s head smacking into the front door was your brakes?”

She laughed through her tears, drying her eyes on the back of her hand. “Or when you were having the wall built in the backyard, when she tried to climb up onto the pile of bricks waiting to be used, and one came straight down on her head? ‘I’m fine, I’m okay!’ and she had blood everywhere, looking like something out of a horror movie from a tiny half inch cut on her forehead?”  

“Or when she got so drunk, she didn’t get the pull out secured properly and ended up sandwiched in it, with her head wedged?” Jaime offered, Frankie collapsing into giggles as she remembered them having to rescue her.

“She tripped over at the clubhouse one night, ended up headbutting Gilly, and that guy has a skull like concrete,” Angel added, laughing at the memory of Gilly roaring whether her head was made of rocks, from how sharply her skull had pounded off his as he’d caught her. “Baby you better wake up and shush me, or imma start telling your friends and your mom some of your really embarrassing fuck ups.”

Sadly, their precious Calamity Joe remained unmoving, her chest rising and falling steadily as the machine breathed air into her lungs, all four of them trying to keep their spirits up in the face of such a bleak prognosis. Jaime and Frankie stayed as late as they could, before it was just Angel and Meryl, the staff allowing them both to stay with her overnight, given the circumstances, nurses coming in every hour or so to check on her. Every check yielded no change in her condition.  

“I booked the vacation,” he began to tell her, reaching to stroke her cheek. “Fourteen nights in Ocho Rios in December. I know you showed me that hotel, but the bungalow I found was way nicer, even though it cost a fucking shit tonne more, you’re worth every cent. I can’t wait to show you, you're gonna love it. You’ll scream when you see the coastline, everything you can photograph. If you’re still unsteady after all of this, we can push it back, but if not then it’ll be the perfect place to take you so you can chill out and rest. I’ll do everything, you don’t gotta worry about a thing.”

It hurt his heart, having to speak about a future he didn’t yet know he’d get to share with her, but he had to hold hope that he would. She’d survived the night, which was something, at least. There was hope she would continue to make slow progress, even if the hours that followed still offered no change.

Running on no sleep, Angel felt his eyes beginning to grow heavy at around half past five the following afternoon.

“You should try and get a little sleep,” Frankie advised, after arriving straight from visiting her grandparents, Angel shaking his head.

“I can’t. Not until she wakes up.”  

She nodded, stroking his hair lovingly. “Alright, big guy. I’m going to go grab a coffee, see you in a little while.” He watched her leave the room, resisting the urge for sleep that continued to tug at him all he could, putting his head down beside her hip on the bed, his hand still holding hers tightly.  

The sounds of the sea drifted into his ears, opening his eyes to familiar surroundings, everything so brilliant white and beautiful. Nothing was a beautiful as the face that greeted him, though.

“Ahh, he finally sleeps.”  

He felt a sob well his throat, pulling her into his arms, not able to voice the emotions stirred in him properly. “Baby, I... and you’re...”  

“Shhh, calm down,” she advised, stroking his hair. “You have to stay asleep, so I can actually spend some time with you. We need this moment.”  

Looking up at her, he stroked her face, loving kisses finding her lips, holding her to him tightly. “And you gotta fight it, what happened to you, come back to us, to me. I know that you can.”  

“Just lie here with me, listen to the ocean. It’s so beautiful here, so peaceful. This is our place, where we always found each other through the absolute madness of everything. Let’s just enjoy it. All is well here. I love you,” she spoke, her hands loving in their glide, laying kisses to his forehead. It all made sense to her now, the white room, how they always found themselves back there. Finally, she got it, what it meant, although she wished she didn’t.  

“I love you too, baby. More than you could ever know.”

Her nails scratched at his beard, her smile widening. “Trust me, my beautiful man. I know.” He sank into the peace of the moment, his heart hurting that it wasn’t real, the bittersweetness of it hitting him hard. It was how they’d begun. It felt so real, her skin against his, her smell, her, just her, there in his arms, in the safe sanctuary of the white room. “No man has ever meant more to me than you do, and I want you to know that, Angel. I want you to remember it. Never, ever forget it.”

Looking down at her, he felt sadness swell in his heart. “That obelisk, it was never about me, was it?”

She shook her head.  

“I ain’t ready, Keri. This can’t be the end. I can’t say goodbye to you yet.”  

Kissing his tears as they fell, she shed a few of her own, too, at the unfairness of it all, her heart throbbing with waves of sadness as she clung onto him. Her entire being wanted to keep fighting to be with him, but she knew. It was her time to depart. “Neither am I, but it doesn’t hurt here, baby.”

Those words broke him completely, Keri holding him tightly. “Shhhh, honey. It’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t. It won’t be okay, not without you.”  

“Yes, it will. I mean, not for a while, but eventually.” Pausing, she kissed him, her hands gliding over his chest, drinking him in, her love burning ever brighter with every precious moment that passed. “It isn’t fair, and I know this. But at least we have right now, this moment, so I can tell you how endlessly I love you.”  

“Please don’t go,” he begged softly, willing her to stay with him with everything he had. The devil could have offered up a contract for his soul in that moment, and he’d sign his name to it instantly if it would give him his love back, make it not so that he had to lose her, and she had to lose everything. “I need to make it up to you, still. I gotta show you that I’m capable of being better for you, please, Keri. Please don’t leave me.”

“Hey, you don’t have to make up for anything. I know, Angel, I know. I want you to know that I don’t want to go, either. I don’t. But I can’t hold on, no matter how much I want to. I’ll always be with you, though. I promise.” Kissing his head, she looked at him with a smile, her beauty burning into his retinas, the moment one he knew he’d remember forever. “You look after yourself, you hear me? I love you, Angel. I love you so much.”

He felt something tug as his insides, the dream beginning to slip, protesting, trying to hang onto her. “No, please don’t go, Keri. Please stay with me.”

“I love you, Angel.”

“No... no... I love you too, baby. Hold on, please. I love you.”

The sounds of the sea swelled in his ears, his consciousness coming back to him, the feel of someone grasping his shoulders and hauling him away from the bed as a long, droning noise sounded from one of the machines, the room suddenly full of medical personnel, someone pulling him to his feet, Meryl being asked to leave the room as well, her screams sharp in his ears as his eyes watched it all happen.  

They worked rapidly, but it played by slowly to him, every movement he knew was futile, his tears falling as he watched from the open door, knowing it was too late, Meryl hysterical in David’s arms. They tried and tried, but it was no good.  

As he watched her fade away, every moment of her replayed in his head, the dreams they’d found one another in, the reality that followed, everything that was their incredible story, now cut short entirely too soon.  

“Time of death, five fifty-one pm.”  

Meryl’s wail was of primal agony, collapsing, David lifting her into his arms, clutching her tightly as Angel felt the bottom of his world crash out from under him. She was gone. As he staggered back to fall down into a seat across from her room, he felt the sharp-toothed jaws of grief close in around him, goring at where he was soft, his head meeting his hands as he cried for her, his insides churned and ripped to shreds by the shards of his broken heart.  

He had no concept of time as he sat there, replaying those last moments with her in their dream, the last time he’d ever seen her alive and well in the airport, the first dream, the first everything, the future he’d never have with her, robbed so cruelly from them both. He’d found and lost her in dreams. They’d come full circle.

“I’m always coming back.”

Except now she wasn’t, and it was through no fault of her own that she would never again return to him. The cruel, biting irony of the situation was not lost on him as the grief of losing her swallowed him whole, drowning in the darkness of it, feeling someone crouch before him, two hands stroking his arms.  

Looking up into Frankie’s tear-filled eyes, he didn’t have a clue what to say to her, both resting their foreheads together before embracing tightly, crying on one another, their worlds absolutely shattered for no longer having their precious Keri within them.

A/N - I’m so sorry to do this to you all :( I think a few of you might’ve worked it out already though, that this was where we were always heading, picked up on the clues from the dreams. Well done if you did! But yes, this was always set to go in a very different direction to how I usually take my stories, and it was a challenge, but one I hope I managed to do justice to. 

[learningfromthepastgp]

Dr Gisella Perl ⁺ The Angel of Auschwitz

Introduction

Dr Gisella Perl (10th December 1907-16th December 1988) was a Hungarian-Jewish gynaecologist whose courage and compassion undoubtedly saved thousands of lives during her time in Auschwitz-Birkenau. Although Dr Perl’s life involves witnessing some of the most depraved events in European history, understanding her life and challenges offers not only an important reminder of the brutality that the Jewish and other persecuted groups faced under the Nazi regime but also an inspirational insight into human willpower.

Early Life

Growing up in Máramorossziget, Hungary, Dr Perl was not just the only woman and only Jew to graduate but also finished at the top of her class. Despite her father’s worries that her pursuit of medicine would lead her to abandon her faith, she promised him that she wouldn't and, eventually, he permitted her to go. With her first paycheck, Dr Perl bought her father a prayer book, engraved with his name and assures him that she will always remain a Jew. 

Time in Auschwitz

After being captured and torn away from her parents, husband, and young son in 1944, Dr Perl was deported to the Auschwitz concentration camp. In her memoir, I Was a Doctor in Auschwitz, Dr Perl recalls that ‘(little children) were taken away, crying and screaming, with wild terror in their eyes, to be undressed, thrown into the waiting graves, drenched with some inflammable material and burned alive.’ 

After being assigned to work under Dr Josef Mengele, the infamous ‘Angel of Death,’, Dr Perl, despite a complete lack of equipment or drugs, dedicated herself to alleviating the suffering of anyone she could. After seeing the depraved surgeries and experiments that Dr Mengele would perform on pregnant women and their newborns, such as intentionally starving babies, castrating them, exposing them to disease, and then executing them, Dr Perl made the decision to secretly perform abortions, often with her bare hands, to save countless women from near-certain death.

 ‘I remembered all the pregnant women in camp whose life depended on my skill, courage and readiness to help . . . and suddenly I knew why I had been spared. I was responsible for those women ... I had to remain alive so as to save them from death . . . I was their doctor’ 

Despite the huge personal risk, Dr. Perl performed an estimated 3,000 abortions in less than 8 months. This course of action was hard for Perl, and the ethical dilemma she had been faced with followed her throughout her life.

Shortly after being moved to Bergen-Belsen, she discovered the bodies of both her sister and brother. 2 months later the camp was liberated by the British and Dr Perl delivered the first free child in any of the camps.

Post-War

After the devastating news that her parents, siblings, and husband had all been slaughtered by the Nazis, Dr Perl attempted suicide. After being cared for in a covenant Dr. Perl moved to the United States of America where she continued her compassionate care and expertise in women’s health and published her memoir, ‘I Was a Doctor in Auschwitz’ (1948)

In 1979 both Dr Perl and her daughter, Gabriella Krauss, who she’d since reunited with after hiding her during the war, moved to Israel, where she stayed until her death on the 16th of December 1988, aged 81.

Reportedly, before every birth, she would say the same prayer,

‘God, you owe me a life - a living baby.’

Further resources:

#learningfromAuschwitz #GisellaPerl #LearningfromtheHolocaust #Holocaustremembrance #lestweforget

[latenightsleeper]

Hands held together

Before Tank was Tank, before Dalhia, before the Pack, before their..abilities, before everything. They were just a kid with a Mom and Dad, they went to school with human kids, talked about math problems, and went to bed before eleven. They ate too surgery cereal and ran to the bus stop every morning, they went home and had corn soup on rainy days. Listened to old music their grandma played and tried to block out the faint yelling as they lulled themselves to sleep.

Most of all, every Sunday their grandma pulled them along to church, the same old white building with stained glass windows that depicted illustrations from the old smelly bible that snuggly fit in its place in front of them when they sat on the dark, smooth polished bench. As a kid, Tank hated going to church. Who wouldn't? It was the last day of the weekend before school opened its doors again on Monday, the last thing most kids wanted to do was wake up early and sit in a stuffy building and hear an old man talk.

Every single time Tank went they almost fell asleep, head bopping as their grandma sat next to them, a white lace veil on her head and a simple black beaded rosary clasped in her hands. Whispering prayer and singing song as the choir sang.

When it was time to pray and they all knelt on the collapsible cushion, they didn't really think god was listening. They never said it out loud of course, especially in the church and very much less in front of their grandma. Tank prayed anyway, thought of lost family pets, and asking to pass math tests. Normal things and they didn't really think anyone was listening let alone someone as busy as God. Not when dozens of his other of his followers were doing the same thing and praying for much more important things.

The concept of God was always a concept that left Tank a bit unsure, even as a child raised in a religious household thanks to their grandma. Their own parents were lax in their beliefs, it wasn't like they screamed that God wasn't real but they also didn't care for the rigorous faith their grandma had and tried to instill in them. Telling them tales of guardian angels who watched over them, how they were never alone, and how they must pray before every meal lest their angel starve.

Of how God was always watching, Tank now would laugh at those words. Many things had changed since those times, of stuffy chalk-white buildings on hot Sundays and Chinese buffets afterward as a reward for their good behavior. How their eyes started to flash blood red and the way everything was suddenly loud loud loud. How they knew they were different, not like before not when that feeling was growing and it wouldn't stop growing. Like how the sting of a broken glass bottle was a feeling they'd never forget for as long as they drew breath. Tank was never a religious person, not really but they grew up with it. Always drew some sort of comfort from it despite the...issues that clashed with it as they grew. So, you'd probably ask how they'd gotten here. Trying to call out to a God they now knew wasn't even real. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- All it took was less of a twitch of my fingers and a silent breath when I really put my mind to it, just a simple movement from me and it was all over. That was all it took for a light to be snuffed out in the dark of the night. I stood there after it was done, breathing heavily, tasting a familiar metallic tang in the air as I panted. It wasn't like it was hard for me to physically do, it was easy-maybe even too easy. Maybe that's why I was breathing so hard because it was so easy when it was said and done I just stood there for a while, listening to the quiet rumbles of passing cares as I watched as the red red red blood seeped into every crevice and crack, how the fabric darkened and drank up their blood. How every second I stood there, the more I was aware of the deal I'd made. Of what I've done for said deal, for information, safe passage, and more. The cost was the thud of a body and the quiet aftermath as I watched. The feeling of cooling blood seeping into the wrinkles and curves of my hands and the knowledge that no matter how much I'd wash my hands after this, the smell would always linger on me. Oh god-oh god it just won't go away, hands clumsily switching between hot cold hot cold hot hot hot water and soap then something else Time didn't feel real to me for a while, it was somehow both not real and so slow. When I managed to pull myself back together enough, I realized I was in a familiar pose. Eyes stuck on the ceiling as I pressed my clasped hands to my lips staining them red as I wordlessly mouth a string of words I was made to memorize when I was a kid and before we had to go. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you; blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. On the next bead, pray a Glory Be. Hollow laughter left my lips softly, praying...I was praying. Praying in an empty shit house with a cooling corpse less than ten feet away from me. How funny, me praying after all these years-after everything. Praying like I really believed, praying like someone was even listening-like God was even real, to begin with the river, they called death the river and everyone walked into its water-no pearly gates and there's no fire and brimstone, just water-didn't they say the world would end in water? Praying for what? For a fucking sign that I'd be okay? A way out of this mess? Forgiveness? That I'd get out of this in one goddamn piece? No.. My hands fall and I get up slowly, a bone-deep tiredness pulling at me as stood on my feet. Eyes drawn right back to the deep red that I was responsible for, that I was the cause for. A numbness settles on my shoulders and I look still before I turn and just...walk out. It's cold, cold enough to make the numbness and exhaustion snap away for all of a second before it coats my being again. Nothing I'm not used to, always been cold to me. Because even if there was a God-even if there was someone listening and looking. Why would he ever set his eyes on a stain of a person like me? Why the fuck would he even want to see my fucking face after what I'd done, what I'd probably keep on doing. I was goddamn pathetic and I knew it, so it was probably for the best that my prayers were forgotten in the wind and left unanswered.

[selenacosmic]

Don’t flirt with your doctor.

This is for the reverse ask game from @the12thnightproject which I found really interesting. The prompt I got was “AU: medical”.

“Doctor… I don’t feel so good…” A pained, husky voice said.

His face contorted in agony as he reached out for me. I hurried to his side to check on his temperature and breathing. Hm? Strange, his temperature and breathing seem perfectly fine. As I came to that conclusion, I felt my hand being held by the patient, who smiled in the most infuriating way possible. “I will feel better if I get a kiss.”

I can’t with this man… in situations like this, it’s normal to get angry and annoyed. But the man laying down on the hospital bed, my patient, couldn’t make me truly angry at him. However, letting him think that he managed to fluster me wasn’t part of my plans. As punishment, I pinched his arm with my free hand lightly. “Ouch! Doctor.. have mercy on me.” Even when he felt a bit of pain, he still smiled at me, finally letting go of my hand.

“How many times have I told you to not flirt with your doctor? You should be focusing on getting better, not playing pranks.” And distasteful ones at that, my patient chuckled at my words and laid down on the bed properly.

This wasn’t just any patient, he had to be the oddest patient I have had so far. His name is Shingen Takeda, a man who should be on his early thirties who went through surgery recently. His case was serious, and a bit complicated. But luck was on his side, the operation was a success and he seem to be recovering well.

“How can I resist? I have an angel taking care of me, nursing me back to health.” And there was this. Not only is he a handsome man, he keeps saying sugary words to every women around. He always says praises to the nurses and doctors who assist him, and I have seen many of them blushing and feeling happy after hearing his praises. Though lately he has been focusing too much on me.

“Hush, if you want to recover properly, don’t talk much.” I should be concentrating on my work…

“I already told you, a kiss is all I need to feel better.” He lightly tapped his lips, teasing me with that infuriating smile.

Is he seriously expecting me to kiss him? Just how shameless can this man be? I crossed my arms as I sighed, looking away from him to think. What to do in this kind of situation…

“You know, I am truly glad that you are the doctor in charge of me.” His sudden words caught me off guard, making me look back at him. His smile seemed… different. It was distant and sad.

“There are plenty of capable doctors in this hospital, some who would be doing a better job.” I answered in a matter-of-fact tone, what I said was true. There were other nurses and doctors who helped him and took care of him.

“Let me tell you a secret, it will be just between us. Before I lost consciousness, before the surgery even started, I heard what the other doctors were talking about. My situation… it was pretty dire, wasn’t it?” To that, I stayed silent. Did he hear everything…? His situation was very difficult, his lungs needed immediate surgery that could go wrong at any time, we had no guarantee that he would survive. I paid attention as he continued:

“Most of the doctors didn’t have much hope of success because of how damaged my lungs were, I suppose that is my fault for letting it get that bad. But I remember your voice… you were certain that I would survive and said that you should do everything you could to make that true.” He looked at me with tenderness in his grey eyes, was that what made him prefer me as his doctor..?

“That’s what a doctor should do, have faith that the procedure will be a success and give their all to make it happen. I was only doing my job.”

“And that’s why I admire you, doctor.” Those words impacted me more than they should. My eyes grew wide, my cheeks blushing. “Now, how about that kiss?”

“In your dreams.” I walked away a bit flustered, trying to shake away that fuzzy feeling inside of me.

[cosmicjoke]

“... I tried to grant her fondest wish, that she should have the body of a woman, a fit shape for the tragic dimension of her soul.

Well, in my clumsy alchemy, slicing heads from bodies and stumbling to transplant one to another, I failed...

Let me say here, she was herself again, hideously wounded, a botched reassemblage of the angelic child she’d been before my attempts, when she was locked out in the brutal morning to meet her death with a clear mind.  The fire of Heaven destroyed the awful  unhealed evidence of my Satanic surgery as it turned her to a monument in ash.  No evidence remained of her last hours within the torture chamber of my makeshift laboratory.  No one need ever have known what I say now.

For many a year, she haunted me.  I could not strike from my mind the faltering image of her girlish head and tumbling curls fixed awkwardly with gross black stitching to the flailing, faltering and falling body of a female vampire whose discarded head I’d thrown into the fire.

Ah, what a grand disaster was that, the child-headed monster woman unable to speak, dancing in a frenetic circle, the blood gurgling from her shuddering mouth, her eyes rolling, arms flapping like the broken bones of invisible wings. 

It was a truth I vowed to conceal forever from Louis de Pointe du Lac and all whoever questioned me.  Better let them think that I had condemned her without trying to effect her escape, both from the vampires of the theater and from the wretched dilemma of her small, enticing, flat-chested and silken-skinned angelic form.

She was not fit for deliverance after the failure of my butchery; she was as a prisoner subjected to the cruelty of the rack who can only smile bitterly and dreamily as she is led, torn and miserable, to the final horror of the stake.  She was as a hopeless patient, in the reeking antiseptic death cubicle of a modern hospital, freed at last from the hands of youthful and overzealous doctors, to give up the ghost on a white pillow alone.

Enough.  I won’t relive it.

I will not.

I never loved her.  I didn’t know how.

I carried out my schemes in chilling detachment and with fiendish pragmatism.  Being condemned and therefore being nothing and no one, she was a perfect specimen for my whim.  That was the horror of it, the secret horror which eclipsed any faith I might have pleaded later in the high-blown courage of my experiments.  And so the secret remained with me, with Armand, who had witnessed centuries of unspeakable and refined cruelties, a story unfit for the tender ears of a desperate Louis, who could never have borne such descriptions of her degradation or suffering, and who did not truly, in his soul, survive her death, cruel as it was.”

God damn, Armand.  I know Lestat’s done some fucked up shit, but this takes the cake for worst thing, lol.  Holy shit.  If you ever needed evidence that Armand wasn’t in a good place mentally when Lestat came to see him, welllll...

Like, dude, you could’ve just given her a bunch of cash and told her to get outta’ dodge, lol.  I feel so much for Armand, I truly do.  He’s far and away had the most difficult life of any of the vampires in this series, but even he’s calling out his reasoning here for why he did this to Claudia, that he was trying to rescue her from her fate as a child vampire, admitting that no, truly, he just wanted to fuck her up, and the fact she was condemned to death was the perfect excuse for him to do it. 

Now you know why the other vampires are scared of this mofo, lol.  This makes it infinitely funnier with the people trying to claim Armand as some wilting innocent sweetheart who’s better for Louis than Lestat.  Like, no, lol, Armand is not well. 

God though, poor Claudia.  Louis should’ve listened to her man.  But nope, he didn’t, and this is the result. 

[shannendoherty-fans]

Shannen Doherty Wants to 'Embrace Life' as Cancer Has Spread to Her Bones: 'My Greatest Memory Is Yet to Come' (Exclusive)

The 'Beverly Hills, 90210' star opens up in PEOPLE's latest cover story about her Stage 4 cancer diagnosis and how she hopes to inspire others by focusing on her future

ByDanielle Bacher

Updated on November 29, 2023 09:29AM EST

Shannen Doherty doesn’t mince words.

“I don’t want to die,” she asserts as a sliver of Los Angeles sunshine falls across her face on the set of her PEOPLE cover shoot four days before Thanksgiving.

The actress — who is best known for her roles on the hit ’90s TV show Beverly Hills, 90210 and later, Charmed — is characteristically candid, upbeat and dry-witted as she opens up about her Stage 4 breast cancer that has spread to her bones.

As she continues to receive treatment, the 52-year-old is more determined than ever to keep moving forward. “I’m not done with living. I’m not done with loving. I’m not done with creating. I’m not done with hopefully changing things for the better,” she says, cracking a smile. "I’m just not — I’m not done.”

Doherty’s eight-year journey with cancer has led her to reflect on the big picture of her life, a theme she will explore on her memoir-style podcast, Let’s Be Clear with Shannen Doherty, premiering Dec. 6 on iHeartRadio, where she plans to discuss everything from career highlights and past relationships to the numerous stages of her illness and health regimens.

After her initial breast cancer diagnosis in 2015 that she first shared with PEOPLE, Doherty had a mastectomy and underwent chemotherapy and radiation.

In April 2017, she revealed on Instagram she went into remission. But by 2019, the cancer returned — and she announced her diagnosis of metastatic stage 4 cancer the following year.

“When you ask yourself, ‘Why me? Why did I get cancer?’ and then ‘Why did my cancer come back? Why am I stage 4?,’ that leads you to look for the bigger purpose in life,” she explains.

She hopes to raise awareness and funds for cancer research — while showing that people with terminal cancer still have plenty to contribute to the world. “It’s insane to me [that] we still don’t have a cure,” she says.

In June, Doherty shared on Instagram that the cancer had spread to her brain and that she had undergone surgery five months earlier to remove a brain tumor. With dark humor, she named it Bob.

“He had to get removed and dissected to see his pathology,” she explains. “It was definitely one of the scariest things I’ve ever been through in my entire life.”

Right now, Doherty hopes to get into clinical trials as new treatments are developed. (It is estimated 168,000 people are living with metastatic breast cancer, according to the Susan G. Komen organization.) But she is most driven by her desire to prove that she can work despite her cancer diagnosis. And it's that deep-seated sense of discipline that helps her carry on.

“People just assume that it means you can’t walk, you can’t eat, you can’t work. They put you out to pasture at a very early age —‘You’re done, you’re retired,’ and we’re not,” she says. “We’re vibrant, and we have such a different outlook on life. We are people who want to work and embrace life and keep moving forward.”

Never miss a story — sign up for PEOPLE's free daily newsletter to stay up-to-date on the best of what PEOPLE has to offer.

Each morning, the actress feels grateful for another day with her friends, her family and her German shepherd Bowie.

"My greatest memory is yet to come," she says. "I pray. I wake up and go to bed thanking God, praying for the things that matter to me without asking for too much. It connects me to a higher power and spirituality. My faith is my mantra.”

As she explains, when you have cancer, everything is more poignant, and the sky is bluer.

“I know it sounds cheesy and crazy, but you’re just more aware of everything, and you feel so blessed. We’re the people who want to work the most, because we’re just so grateful for every second, every hour, every day we get to be here.”

For more on Shannen Doherty's cancer journey and how she's finding moments of joy amid her diagnosis, pick up the latest issue of PEOPLE, on newsstands Friday.

[satanachia666]

Hi! I'm extremely curious to know more about your relationship with Satanachia and who is this deity(? I think it could be interesting if you want to tell us 👉👈

Hello! Thank you so much for sending in this ask. After all, Satanachia is this blog's namesake as well as my patron demon. I'm always happy when people want to talk about Satanachia, so thank you for giving me that opportunity!

As I said, Satanachia is my patron demon. I knew Satanachia was my patron demon when I first saw their name. Of course, I didn't run with calling them my patron demon until I learned more about them and connected with them. Nonetheless, I admit I started saying prayers and doing rituals/spells immediately.

I've written up a post on Satanachia's demonic correspondences for people who want a primer on this demon. Please know that the information presented in that post includes information gathered from research and UPG/Unverified Personal Gnosis.

In this post, I'll be writing about some of my personal experiences with Satanachia.

First thing first: I perceive Satanachia as a genderfluid spirit with masculine, feminine, and non-binary aspects. I use different pronouns to refer to Satanachia depending on how I perceive them, hence why I'm using they/them pronouns right now. They have appeared to me as masculine, feminine, and many shades of non-binary. For instance, Satanachia once appeared to me as a full moon with blue angel wings during a ritual. At that time, I was doing a Venus Empowerment Ritual similar to the one I posted a while back.

Speaking of Venus: Satanachia rules over love, lust, relationships, romance, sexuality, and creativity. They have the power to inspire artists, writers, and other creatives with ideas, insights, messages, and visions. I also consider Satanachia to be a protector of women, femmes, and AFAB people, hence why I wrote a prayer to defend abortion in honor of Satanachia. As such, I perceive them as having a strong Venusian aspect. Based on my experiences, one of Satanachia's favorite offerings is menstrual blood, and I try to give it to them when it's possible and desirable.

However, Satanachia is also connected to planetary magic in general, as they are wise in the ways and energies of planets. They also teach people about warfare, including psychic defense and astral weaponry. As such, they also provide protection to those of us who ask for it and anyone who connects with them in good faith. There have been times when I've called upon Satanachia for protection in my life as well as protection on the astral plane. Each time, their protection has helped me escape dangerous situations. One time, while I was astral projecting, a spirit who claimed to be from a past life of mine wanted to show me something traumatic that happened to me in that past life. I got scared, so I called on Satanachia for help. Satanachia gently lifted me away from the situation, just as they have done every time I've called upon them for protection in the astral realm. I can also charge my astral weapons with their energy, which is great!

In real life, Satanachia has protected me from dangerous situations. Once, in 2019, I got the urge to do a protection ritual, something that happens to me from time to time. I always act on this instinct when I feel it, though, because I feel it is my spirit sensing danger before I do. A week later, I was the passenger in a head-on car accident that could've easily killed me, but I survived with my health in relatively good shape — no broken bones, no bruises, and no need for surgery. I went home from the hospital that day. After that, I had to go to physical therapy to deal with the lower back pain I experienced afterward, but my body has finally healed from it. I'm back to only getting back pain during PMS or menstruation! I'm eternally grateful to Satanachia for granting me their protection on the day of the car accident and during the healing process afterward. Satanachia has blessed me with not only protection, but knowledge, and passion. Working with them has been the most rewarding thing I've done in my 20 years of practicing witchcraft.

If you feel drawn to connect with Satanachia, I encourage you to do it! If you don't know where to start, I'd suggest doing some research, then praying to Satanachia for guidance on how to proceed. Reading Satanachia's correspondence info and the Venus Empowerment Ritual I linked above could possibly give you some inspiration for a spell or ritual you have in mind. I published both of them because there seems to not be a lot of information on Satanachia. Next to Satan, Satanachia has been the most influential spirit in my path of Demonolatry and Theistic Satanism.

I hope my answer gives you insight into my relationship with Satanachia. Again, thank you for this ask! Hail Satanachia!🤘

🌕 Pearl Satanachia 🌕

[daughter-of-the-angel]

Susie "Sue" Angel: [16]

Susie "Sue" Angel: [16] Before the events of Bendy and the Ink Machine, Boris and the Dark Survival, and Bendy and the Dark Revival, Susie Campbell met and fell in love with a young lad named Sonar (@ocandpersona-information-by-jtd) who was one of the new animators in Joey Drew Studios, a man who had hopes and dreams of becoming a more successful artist than Joey Drew and Henry Stein. The couple grew closer and closer, became engaged and cherished each other. Sadly their love came to an abrupt end, after Susie was tricked and fed into the machine by Joey. After she became Alice Angel and started working on her goal to become perfect, the angel found herself going into labor, and gave birth to an angel like herself. Alice raised the child and showed her the ways of perfecting the art of surgery and science, and swore to herself that she would protect her daughter from death itself. Susie Angel, named after her mother's previous name, looks much like her mother if she was perfect. Short curly hair in a bob, yellowish tint skin that most old cartoon characters had, and elegant angel wings. She was a saint in many ways; generous, thoughtful, patient, loving, faithful, and compassionate. She never believed that violence was the answer to everything, and hoped that she could make the ink world a better place. She never feared the Ink Demon, believing that Bendy was mixed up and in pain that made him accidentally hurt others.

Susie, however, can transform into a demonic version of herself if someone or something manages to make her furious, either by hurting her love ones or herself.

[thedosianexplorer]

Hagging Out - Veneration

This is a prose-only entry this month (click here for the adorable prequel image) and it is late because, well, *gestures at this human existence in 2022 America*. I haven’t shared my writing in some time but it is one of the many ways I venerate privately. Content mentions for US current events re: the Club Q/Pulse shootings, Supreme Court rulings, the general experience of being a queer American and former Catholic. Other relevant content mentions are in the tags below!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Veneration used to mean a holy water font booked to the door, laminated prayer cards, statues of Mary that were given to the students who learned their catechism the fastest, the clack of rosary beads. Plastic, wood, metal, semiprecious stones. Clouds of incense wreathing our church calendar and our photo of Pope John Paul II. These things were in my childhood home to remind me that down the road was the church, and we had to show that we acted like we were in that church always. God, the Son, the Spirit, Mary, all the angels and saints, and the host of beloved dead. The Church Triumphant trumpeting loudly onto focus on every room. I made my first shrine this way, to Mary. Besides the obligatory Precious Moments crucifix nailed to my wall (yes, really, these exist), my shrines were to her, my prayers to her, and besides her, the saints, the Spirit, and the angels preoccupied me. I am proud to be an apostate of my old faith, but I was born on a Marian feast and she of any of them can find me still. Now she just has to share space.

My shrines are one of the first things you see walking into my home. They’re like comfortable seats for surprise visits from friends or older relatives. Veneration is still an act, but it no longer feels like a graded performance. This is my home and my temple. My gods know where to find me.

It is the first day of November and my partner is in the worst pain I have ever seen him in, which is saying something about a man for whom subluxations are a frequent enemy. Frigg finds me in the medicine cabinet pulling together the medications that can stand in for the stronger stuff in a pinch. Her light is a thrum across my shoulders as I call dentists, wrangle insurance, make sure there is enough food in the fridge. I often ask Her to help me find abundance and work with it. Patience yields a lead, an open appointment later in the week when every other clinic won't be open until March. The clinic opens doors with a referral, a consultation just five weeks away. The medications start to work. At Frigg’s altar (my kitchen) I mash up leftovers of beef stew and stir in dried basil I grew for Her.

Freyja has another cat for me and this one looks like he’s here to stay. I take care of the outdoor cats as a devotional act because She has kept mine safe. I’ve rehomed many strays over the years and gotten young ferals used to human company. Cryptid came to me just before Samhain two years ago, and this year the Sunday after Samhain my partner found a little black kitten curled against our porch. Within minutes, my partner decided. “His name is Zagreus.” It was the afternoon before the temperatures would drop below freezing at night, and he was barely weaned. His eyes were still blue and he clung to us immediately. I brought him up to Her shrine to say hello, and to ask for help getting him to the vet. As it happened, there was an opening at the same time I had to drop Cryptid off for surgery (this is an exceptionally rare occurrence at my vet). He is healthy, and the other cats have accepted him and taught him their catlore with a readiness that surprised us both veteran cat owners. He’s sleeping next to me now, and his eyes are turning a brilliant amber.

Cryptid’s surgery comes on a Wednesday, Odin’s day. I offer strong coffee for safe travels and our Lyft drivers are swift- they even wore masks! I am wrung-out with anxiety but of all my gods he understands that. Even though I ache through with stress and the toll of new kitten energy I feel cajoled to a Wednesday night walk, my usual ritual with him. I go, and go, and walk farther than I expected, and the old man smiles with a gift: a pristinely kept, solid wood and wrought iron coffee table the perfect height for my reading chair just… placed under a streetlight by the dumpster. He has left other gifts this way- a natural quartz point smoothed with years of rain, a solid copper candle-holder, and now this ideal replacement for the table that just broke. I whisper, “Odin give me strength” and somehow I can heft this heavy thing all the way home.

Macha is who I turn to when I am tired of running or being beholden to the whims of unjust rulers. She knows the burdens of both well. Until February (or longer), all of my student loans are forgiven now but a single Trump-appointed judge in Texas just decided to derail the already delayed day that forgiveness comes to pass. Now it’s up to the Supreme Court who have already decided to curtail my rights in other ways to decide. I didn’t have much to talk about with Her besides that coming right after the midterms, but I was glad to have Her shrine to stop at and catch my breath. 

The Transgender Day of Remembrance falls on a Sunday, Hel’s day in my home. Each year I write the names, light the candles, sing the death songs, and this year it comes early. The news from Colorado Springs finds me in 2022, about to sleep, and in 2016, in the memory of too-bright hotel sunlight. The way of the gods is not linear and neither is grief. In my bedroom my partner and I check on friends and pray. I remember the Sunday morning when the joyful frenzy of AnimeNext fell silent with 49 names from Pulse. Hel is there as I walk the convention floor and listen to a mother’s worry that she wants her teens to be safe wearing those flags with their costumes. I do not tell her that my family doesn’t know I’m queer, that this is the first time I have heard a mother want her children to be out and proud. I tell her something but the words are lost with the sight of her daughter watches the doors behind her friends’ backs and fidgeting with the flag draped over her shoulders. Hel guides me home, bone-white and corpse-blue, cloaked in late autumn fog. She is with me, cemetery silent, in the late hours of grief. For hours I weep for people I will never know. She is much larger than I, and shoulders the weight of what I cannot. I make crockpot applesauce spiked with red wine and honey to warm us both. 

Badb is never far. She found me first, before I knew Her by name. I can find Her in rage, in fear, in triumph. This month has brought it all in plenty. I offer pomegranate wine and angrily wrest my peace back from all that subdues it. She is with the part of me that is left when I think there are no more logs to toss on the fire, the choice in every ember to catch or snuff out entirely. She guides the discernment to see which is needed. 

Mórrígan shares war wisdom and cold comfort as I wait on hold with insurance to remind them that, yes, I do still need the medication I’ve been prescribed since birth and yes, that medication I have taken every day for the past twelve years too. I pour out the acid in the pit of my stomach and imagine it full of the chilly cave water that runs through Her fit abode. I drink my ice water and the panic attack passes. A crow flies overhead as I walk the several miles to the pharmacy. I spoke up and my medication is the cheapest it’s been in years. I honor Her with the victory.

Loki popped in the last Tuesday of November to tell us that if we didn’t take a fucking break we’d keel over. By which I mean, we found ourselves with a massive Postmates coupon, a rainy drizzle, toasty pajamas, our massive beanbag chair and five cats that want nothing more to hibernate with us. I usually bake with them but as tired as I am, I know he enjoyed the heaping portion of tiramisu and cannolis. Even though we only had a few free hours that night it felt like a whole day of rest. 

[zerogate]

West Point graduate Bill Haneke’s crisis was certainly urgent. He was serving in Vietnam as an adviser in Binh Thuan Province, based in a compound centered around an old French hospital. The Viet Cong were active in the area, and Haneke and other American advisers, along with South Vietnamese troops, did their best to make their position safe. Even so, at one point the compound was overrun. Scores of people were killed, but Bill and a dozen others hid in a bunker and survived. Further attacks seemed inevitable.

On November 13, 1968, Bill’s commander ordered him to leave the compound to move two fifty-five-gallon fuel drums. His superior followed him, and the two went outside the gate briefly, with disastrous consequences. A Viet Cong soldier was lying in wait, and at a critical moment he detonated a mine that blasted a crater and propelled Haneke eighty feet through the air, leaving him dangling limply on a barbed-wire fence.

The twenty-six-year-old’s injuries were grotesque. One eye was gone, and he had shrapnel in the other; his jaw was shattered, and bone and loose teeth obstructed his breathing. He suffered a head wound that exposed part of his brain. One leg had also been severed, as was part of the foot on his other leg. The carotid artery and jugular had been slashed, and with each heartbeat, blood would spurt out of his neck. He was aware that there had been an attack and that he was seriously hurt, but he couldn’t see, could barely breathe and was clearly dying. He tried to move, but he felt paralyzed. It was as though he were beyond help. Believing that he was dying, Haneke prayed, “Oh, God, help me.” Suddenly a soothing voice instructed him: “Turn your head to the left and relax. Have faith. I will help you through this.” He did as the voice said: he turned his head to the left, and this action partially staunched the flow of blood.

The explosion had alerted the entire compound, and several people ran to his aid, cutting him off the barbed wire. After about fifteen minutes a helicopter arrived with a medic. He received a tracheotomy to allow him to breathe more easily and was given plasma. What followed was a desperate forty-eight-hour fight for survival. Five times he was pronounced dead, and five times he defied seemingly impossible odds. At one point last rites were performed. Again he heard the voice urging him to remain calm. “I am with you,” it said.

Bill was transferred to a series of field triages, finally arriving at an evacuation hospital in Long Binh. But the medical team could detect no breathing or pulse. He was beyond help. He was covered with a blanket, wheeled into a room, and left for dead. That might have been it, but once again he heard the same insistent voice, telling him that he would survive and that it would see him through it. “Give them a sign you are alive,” the voice said. “It’s very important you do this. Do it now!” it urged.

He tried to cry out but could make no discernible sound. Incredible pain washed over him. He summoned every little bit of strength left in him and jerked himself, causing an intravenous line to pull over the IV stand. “Hey, this guy’s alive!” yelled a nurse. “Hey, doc, this guy’s still kicking.” They rushed him into surgery. He spent fifteen hours on the operating table and two weeks in critical care before he was airlifted first to Japan and then to the Walter Reed Army Hospital in Bethesda, Maryland.

It took four years and some two hundred procedures, but eventually he recovered sufficiently to have some semblance of a normal life, eventually writing a book, Trust Not, about his military experiences and his astonishing story of survival. It is a deeply spiritual account of a profoundly spiritual experience. Asked what the source of the voice was, Bill says it came from God: “It was a divine voice, and although I thought I was dying, it did settle me down and I wasn’t panicking quite as much.”

-- John Geiger, The Angel Effect

[mtnkat3]

4.44pm unfortunately that's true my loves .. not the kind I wanna have. Ever. Having fun & being boisterous is one thing. But if it needs to be only us..... then I'm fine with that.

& yeah I grew up with the boisterous but also, not that kinda mischief. I'd rather be good, than have been popped by my tiny spitfire grandma[paternal].

Grin. As much as my family loved 'Home Alone'.. it was one movie that my dad just had huge belly laughs!

she didn't because she was in pain from broken vertebrae [2] for a decade. Laughter hurt. my grandma was very frail by then. Doing cpr on et the day after Thanksgiving.. sad.

Just makes me think.. now.. my mom has had 2 successful such surgeries because the time of medical technology.

For me, holidays are knowing that my loved ones are alive, healthy & happy.

I'd rather have Gifts from the heart of God..... than any from the craziness of modern secular holidays. It makes me sick. I'm not grinch. But I have lived with scrooge all this time.

I'd rather wake on such a special day.. looking into your eyes.....& whisper Merry Christmas.. or whatever one it is. I love the holidays.. but doing things, not getting things.

Heck I can remember when my parents were heavily involved with the church deacons & Angel Tree. I didn't know it back then.. but my parents adopted families & did all that kind of stuff at Christmas. So me getting clothes then wasn't such a bad thing. I was sheltered, had food & clothing. I knew my dad's love. And well as much as she could. I spent time with both sides of the family, fell asleep between visitors & knew my Blessings.

For most of the past 2 decades I've spent Christmas cooking, working, or being alone.

Now.. I wanna spend it with you . . . . . However we decide to do so is fine with me.

I'd rather see trees standing.. but I know too that it's the most basic form of heat, fuel, home making.. I just pray they be replenished & shove the humans outta the way.. grin. The encroachment into the forests makes me growl. & around here now I wanna roar all the dang time! In a damn 1970s style inflation & headed toward another bubble burst& the world imploding...& building?! Wtfh! Ggrrr! Just..🤫🙊

Anyways.

I miss you . . . . .

No matter that I am outta the loop... No matter what the shuffling is all about. No matter anything else.....

I love you . . . . .

And I pray to be in an apartment before Christmas. But if that's not God's Plan & I'm required to what the entire time because of the monster. Well.. then I have to.

But I long for the moment I open that door..... that you..... be on the other side..... and life becomes beautiful & blessed beyond measure.

Oh how I want you . . . . .now.

But. Evidently God has other Plans... I am his warrior queen daughter after all. I live almost like a.. warrior nun. Grin. Yep. Inspires.

But also made me think. But. Faith vs religion. I'm all about faith, faithfulness & being a good woman, mate, daughter.

He has Plans for me.

So. I work. I await. Because I believe.

And my love for you . . . . .keeps building & storing up... soft smile. I love you . Kisses.

I wanna kiss you now.....

Oh my loves .....

It is well with my soul.

& keep hearing songs but names jumbled right now.

I love you . . . . . I hope you know & feel this. That your souls have felt my angst & uncertainty because I have missed you.....so badly!

Ok. Better close. I know I know rambling much .. blushing beet red bowing my head. I just.. I love you.....& wanna be with you & not be separated anymore! I need all my puzzle pieces! All!!!!! Kinda sorta pout. Gr. Ok t. Close. Sigh. slump.

I am here.....until I'm in your arms.

Believe. Work. Wait. Then I'll jump you!!!!!

~True love never dies & true love always waits!.~

Your grumbling confused frustrated kat but listening closely carefully quietly daughter.

Your complex quirky warrior queen daughter!

~Tijgeress kat Phoenix. ✝️🌺🐾🐯

🤓🤔😔😏👩⚓🙏🙇‍♀️

🌂🔗⛓🧰📋🗓⚙⚒🛠🔐🏗🧱🏰⚔⚖🗽🦅🕊🥧🧣🥾🏔🍋🥤🥨🥓🍳🥮🍯🍼☕🍫🍎🍑🍒 🐯🐾🐐🦉🐢🐛🦋🌱🌺🌹🌻🌷🌳🌲🧶🧵

⌚💡⚡🌠🚀🗝🔱⚜💝🐻🦌🧩♠️♾🎯🧭🕯💋

Su.12.4.2022 5.56pm est.

[lifetimeshipper]

Angel From A Dream

Chapter 18

~~~~~~~~~~

"Were you talking to Smokescreen?" Ratchet asked as he and Knock Out continued to work on Sideswipe.

"Yeah, he wanted to know how it was going."

Ratchet was about to say something when they suddenly heard beeping, "Scrap, he's offlining!" Knock Out shouts as he does everything he can to get Sideswipe's spark going again. They send electrical shock waves into him again and again, Knock Out was beginning to panic. He can't lose his son, his son will not die on his watch.

~~~~~~~~~~

Smokescreen stopped driving and transformed as he placed a servo over his spark. The others stop and transform as well after they see him, "Smokescreen, what's wrong?" Bumblebee asked as they all walked over to him.

"Sideswipe... I feel him slipping away. I can't lose him, not my son," Smokescreen says as lubricant starts filling his optics.

"Have faith in Knock Out and Ratchet. Knock Out will not let him offline, I know he won't," Arcee says as she places a servo on his shoulder.

"I can feel Knock Out panicking, he doesn't believe in himself but he's trying. You guys should go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone, Bulkhead will stay with you," Bumblebee tells him. Bulkhead nods, as much as he wants to find Strongarm he knows Smokescreen can't be left alone right now, he needs to stay and comfort his old friend.

"You two just catch up when you can. If we find Steeljaw I'll leave a little bit of him intact for you, Bulk," Wheeljack says before he transforms.

"We'll try not to beat him up too much without you," Arcee says before she transforms as well. Bulkhead just chuckles as the rest of them transform and they all drive off towards the base.

~~~~~~~~~~

Knock Out continues to work tirelessly to save his son. They were eventually able to get him stable again but they needed to hurry and finish the surgery before he went again, next time might be for good. Knock Out's spark was pulsing much faster as he mended wires and wielded metal back into place, he'll never forgive himself if his own son offlines under his care. He would never be able to look his mate in the optics again, nothing would be the same between them.

Is he stable? Smokescreen asks through their bond.

For now, but we'll need to hurry. Hopefully, he won't crash again.

Hopefully. That scared me, I really thought we were going to lose him.

So did I, but I'm determined not to let him offline. We just have a bit more to go and we'll be done with the surgery.

Thank Primus.

"We're almost done, Knock Out," Ratchet says reassuringly. He's seen medics fall apart while working on their own sparkling, it's not easy. That's why he was more than willing to come with Knock Out and Smokescreen to help with the surgery because he knew it was gonna be difficult for Knock Out. "Do you want me to finish up while you take a break?"

"No, I want to see this through."

"Just let me know if you need to step out."

"Thanks, Ratchet. I really appreciate it."

~~~~~~~~~~

"He's stable again," Smokescreen tells Bulkhead.

"Thank Primus. Let's go catch up with the others."

Smokescreen nods as he transforms with Bulkhead following him and the two drive off, "Hey, Smokescreen, I've been wondering. What traits did Sideswipe get from you? I know he took on Knock Out's red paint job."

Smokescreen laughed, "He took on his red paint job and his obsessiveness over his looks. Sides does not like having his paint job scratched or messed up in any way just like Knock Out. He got my blue optics and cockiness."

"Would have thought the cockiness came from both of you."

Smokescreen laughed again, "True, but he mostly got it from me as well as his thing about just running into situations without thinking."

"Now that is so you."  The two just laugh as they continue driving.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Steeljaw and Strongarm walked through the forest, Strongarm felt very sluggish. Between Steeljaw cutting back her Energon rations, him biting her to mark her, her heat, and them fragging twice, it all is paying a really heavy toll on her body. Steeljaw can see it and he grows concerned, "Are you alright, Strongarm? Would you like for me to carry you?"

Strongarm sent him a sideways glare as she growled, "No I'm not alright and no I don't want you to carry me! In fact, I would really appreciate it if you never touched me again!"

"Your heat is making you cranky."

Strongarm fully turns to him with a hardened glare, "You're gonna blame my heat!? Steeljaw, you put me on very low Energon rations for four days, it's not just my heat!"

Steeljaw glared back at her, "You tried to escape! Did you think that would go unpunished!? You're lucky I didn't do worse than that!"

Strongarm gets in front of him and brings them both to a halt, "Be honest with me, Steeljaw. What is it you really want from me? Why are you so bent on making me your mate?"

"All I want from you is your love. I've been dreaming of you for the past couple of years, I don't know how or why but I have. You plagued my dreams every time I slept and then it got to where you started plaguing my processor. I couldn't stop seeing your beautiful face and your beautiful blue optics, and eventually, I started falling in love with you and I was determined to find you and find out who you were. Then I finally found you, the moment I turned around and saw you I knew I found my mate. I couldn't let you go."

Strongarm looked up at him as her cheeks tinted blue. What kind of response is she supposed to make to that? She narrows her optics, "That's the biggest load of bull I ever heard! Why don't you try telling the truth for a change and stop making up stories!" She says as she starts walking off.

Steeljaw grabs her arm and turns her back around to look at him, "I'm not lying to you, Strongarm." He places a servo on her face as he makes her look him in the optics, "I'm telling the truth. I don't know what it is but something is making me have dreams about you which have made me fall in love with you."

Strongarm looks to the side as she recalls reading stories about that kind of thing happening to other bots, "I've read about that happening to others. I just can't believe it's happening to me."

"Did you read about what causes it?"

Strongarm nods as she looks at him again, "I did. It happens to those who are going down the wrong path, they start dreaming about the one that is supposed to help guide them the right way. The dreams are supposed to help them fall in love with the mech or femme so when they actually meet it can go easier, especially when the one that was chosen for them is on the opposite side. It's usually set in motion by one that was very close to them, like a parent or a close friend, that doesn't like seeing them going down the wrong path." She pulls away from him as she moves back, "Some bot that was close to you and is now in the well of all-spark has set this up and for some reason has chosen me."

Steeljaw remains silent as he processes everything she just told him. Some bot he was close to and is now with Primus has set this up. He can think of only one that would try to get him on the right path, his carrier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

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