Weâve Moved!
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@crossroadcaesar-blog
Weâve Moved!
Hey yâall, this blog is now an archive. You can now find the demon over on his freshly rebooted blog, HERE. Â
Hiatus Notice
((Hey everyone. Â Sorry for vanishing without a trace. Â If it hasnât become apparent yet, this blog is on a hiatus until further notice. Â I need to figure out what I want to do here going forward, which is probably going to mean some massive, sweeping changes and possibly a full reboot when I do decide to return. Â
Iâve been logging in every now and then to check messages, so if you need to get ahold of me thatâs one option. Â Those of you who do have my Skype are welcome to contact me on it. Â I hope youâre all well and thank you for your patience and understanding.)) Â Â
spenceraes:
   WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW?!
demonic possession.
we all have our demons, yes, but what if thatâs all there is to me?
ii. questions of great tragedies (o.q)
Humans see what they want to see.
Rick Riordan
,
The Lightning Thief
 (via
eisoptrxphobiic
)
i donât feel very human anymore.
7:59 pm 4/28/15; l.m. (via apoeticmythos)
The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller
huntresscaraquinn :
Cara slowly nodded as he explained the gist of how the tattoo worked, and she instantly decided that she would be keeping her hair down from here on out. At least the tattoo would stay hidden that way, and she could be sure that it was able to do its job. Because the last thing she wanted was a repeat of what had happened in the past. Regardless of being able to remember it or not⊠It sickened her. She could imagine it â the slaughter of innocent people. Of her family. She would give anything not to go through that again. When Lee asked her about remembering her Latin, she questioned, ââŠDo I speak Latin?â She paused before continuing, âDo you? I mean, maybe if you can give me a head start, I can see if I remember any of it.â
He watches the gears turn almost as though her head were transparent; heâs never been particularly empathetic but when she goes quiet for a moment it isnât too hard to guess what sheâs thinking about. Â âDemons ainât no fun for no one, Darlinâ,â Lee offers gently, as if the observation is intended to be comforting...heâs never been much good at that, either. Â â--Do I?â The hunter scoffs. Â She may as well have just called him dickless. Â âCara, are yaâ kiddinâ me? Â Iâm a fuckinâ hunter, my Latinâs betterân my English.â Â Heâs not lying about that, either. Â âAâlright, howâs this, weâll start with just a basic exorcism, yeah?â Â Slowly and deliberately, Lee begins to recite the incantation, âExorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica...Any of this jogginâ your memory?â Â Â Â
The one I used to love the most is now the one I am most afraid of.
starvingwriterblog (via wordsnquotes)
misshoodoolady:
âI donât really know,â she says, leaning forward. âI can set up a bath to cleanse the negativity from you, to uncross any jinx you may have, but whether or not itâll relieve you of all traces of the demon, I canât guarantee. I donât know much about demonic possession besides the basics; what I know outside of that, I learned from the demon.â
Albeit, the demon had given her a large glimpse of the way the demon world workedâthe intricacy of its bureaucratic system, the whys and hows of demonic possessionâbut thereâs still so much she doesnât know. What she does know is that itâs rare for a demon to leave its human host alive after vacating the premisesâshe hadnât been aware that it was possible until the demon had told her itâd kept its host was still aroundâso this was an even bigger unknown territory.
âI think the least we can do is try. The worst that can happen is that nothinâ happens.â She stands up, hesitating before taking a step towards Malcolm and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. âLemme get my book and Iâll see what ingredients I need. I have a feeling Iâll need to do some shopping, but I can have it setup by tonight.â
Malcolm fidgets as he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment wash over him, chewing on his lower lip to hide it as much as possible as he nods. Â Perhaps it had been foolish to pin hope upon such a fickle craft as magic in the first place, but Pasha is right--itâs still worth a shot.
âAs yaâ say, maâam,â the hunter agrees, glancing over at the warm hand upon his shoulder before meeting the witchâs eyes once more. Â âIf there ainât no harm in tryinâ, Iâd be much obliged. Â Can I do somethinâ tâ help yaâ get things ready? Â Been a long time since I dabbled in spellwork, but I still know my way around an apothecary shop. Â If yaâ gimmeâ a list I can fetch whatever components yaâ need.â
As soon as the words leave his mouth he realizes how it might be misinterpreted. Â â--I never practiced, I mean,â Mal quickly assures her, âNever this sortaâ thing. Â But I know a sage leaf from a chicken bone.â Â
psychoanalyticmystic :
If he doesnât have the right answer then neither of them do. She thought that maybe it was to give up, to try and find a different way to live than the one theyâd chosen together that was killing them both. But now sheâs not sure of anything anymore. It takes more strength of will than she thought she had to stay apart from him as he looks at her, even as every part of her screams to fill the empty space.
âItâs funny,â she says quietly, even though sheâs not laughing. âYouâre who Iâd talk to about all of this. To try and sort my head out.â Her voice cracks a little on the last word and she clears her throat to try and conceal it, looking down at the carpet. âI already moved my stuff into the other room. I donât have a problem co-existing if you donât. Weâve known each other long enough, right?â
He can hear his fatherâs voice echoing in the back of his mind--âWhat the Hellâd yaâ do tâ fuck it up, boy?â--and for the life of him Malcolm wishes he knew. Â He wishes he knew why he couldnât hack it at marriage, or why heâs a terrible teacher, or why the minute he opens his mouth he feels like a stranger in California...Maybe his father is right. Â Maybe mucking pigshit in Texas is all he was ever meant to do with his life.
âBelle, you can still talk tâ me, yaâ know that.â Â And yet, talking about their problems has never been a strong suit for either of them. Â He takes a step toward her, and then another, closing the space between them before stopping himself just out of reach. Â âDo yaâ want me tâ stay?â Malcolm asks, barely more than a whisper and half afraid of what her answer will be. Â Â Â
shaggydemon :
Chuck smiled, âThanks, but Iâm sure Iâll be fine.â He frowned at the questions and shook his head, âNo⊠no oneâs cared about me for a long, long time.â He glanced at the other, âOriginally or⊠in America? Cause I have a place in New York. Nothing much, but itâs home.âÂ
Heâs a little bit taken aback at the bluntness of the statement, though in truth he understands it better than most. Â âIâm sorry, I didnât mean tâ throw salt in old wounds. Â I donât really have any family, either, but--donât yaâ have anybody who might be lookinâ for yaâ? Â I donât have a phone, but thereâs a bodega downstairs thatâll let yaâ use theirs if yaâ need tâ make a call.â Â Malcolm taps a fingertip on the neck of his beer bottle before taking another sip. Â âYouâre a long way from New York, Chuck...â Â Â Â
â comforting after a nightmare
meme | accepting | @crossroadcaesarâ
Itâs the pacing that wakes her up.
Well, not exactly. Itâs the way her house seems to whine and groan and sigh at every footfall. Sheâs lived in this house long enough to recognize the music it makes; sheâs paced that hall enough times herself to know what it sounds like when someoneâs trying to calm themselves down.
Laying in bed, Pasha stares up at the ceiling, wondering if she should leave Malcolm to his own devices, let him tire himself out. Then she remembers all the times sheâs been in his shoes, alone with her thoughts and wishing that there was someone she could, at least, lean on. Those creaks hadnât always been there; sheâd worn them into the floor.
The second she opens the door, everything seems to freeze, silence drifting heavily between them. She hesitates, hands cinching her robe closed; then she jerks her head down the hall. âCome with me.â
Itâs a command, not a request, and she moves without checking to see if heâs following. If heâs not, sheâll go to him. But by the time sheâs pulling the steaming mug of water from the microwave, an infuser full of chamomile and valerian tea floating on the surface, heâs seating himself at the kitchen table.Â
âDrink. Itâll help.â Again, not a request. She sets the mug in front of him before sinking into the seat next to him with a heavy sigh. âI get âem, too, yâknow.â
rileyhallow :
                                 âââââââToo late?          Sheâs CONFUSED and looks it, without a doubt; brows knit together, level gaze flicking across the features of a face both familiar and UNfamiliar and now that sheâs looking at himââREALLY looking at himââshe notices it: the strange feeling sheâd thought was just due to being gone for so long, but is now so clearly ANOTHER case altogether.    â What happenedâ? â    She doesnât bother to keep the surprise from her voice or off her face, taking a step back, before she THINKS about what heâd said. Theyâre gone.    â WHOâS gone? â
For over forty years, trapped in his own consciousness while the demon defiled his body, Malcolm Brockway had prayed for the day he would get to say the words that fall from his lips next. Â âThat bitch is back in Hell where she belongs.â Â Somehow itâs not as satisfying as heâd imagined. Â The hunter shakes his head, pushing a hand back through the mess of tousled hair that falls across his forehead. Â âDemons came. Â A lot of âem. Â It was messy.â Â Heâs not sure why he finds himself compelled to spare her the truly gory details...or to offer what little condolence he does. Â âShe didnât let them take him. Â Itâs just you now.â