and if i can't hate myself
into some fantastical version i can love
if i can't mould myself into a shape
that satisfies my grand, artistic vision
and if i can't trust myself
into a person i can truly, deeply believe in
i will love you instead
(and maybe, someday, somehow,
i'll catch up to you,
and stand beside you.)
- visibility46
posted last week, edited last week
It's late, and I can't sleep.
You all know who this is about. Probably.
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How Not to Summon a Demon“I’m sorry for summoning you but please just go back to Hell! I’m too damn tired to deal with this.” Verity sobbed, bracing herself against the wall and sliding down to sit on the cold hard tile. The kitchen was splattered with bits of red tomato innards as it dripped down the ceiling and from the walls to the once pristine alabaster floor. Smoke curled up from an abandoned pan as it drifted towards the mysterious stranger sitting atop Verity’s countertop island who simply had their arms crossed, tapping a claw impatiently. “Look here little mortal.” He sighed in a husky otherworldly voice, “I am Amnevar, a vassal to the Vice Invidia and you, by some fatuus method, have summoned me. So tell me what it is you desire.” Verity ran a hand through her coppery hair, which had long since fallen out of the makeshift bun she tied it into, and wheezed out several rushed breaths.“I was just trying to make pasta and study Spanish, not summon a demon.” She mumbled, possibly to herself, wiping away the tears that flooded down her cheeks and onto her messy, pastel blue overalls… Amnevar raised an eyebrow and with an ashy black hand brushed the pages of the two open books resting beside the smoking pot of evaporated pasta water; the smell of burnt starch lingering in the air. He glared at the cookbook Verity used for reference in dissatisfaction, wrinkling his nose at the splatters of tomato that stained the pages and pushed the book aside. Then he turned to the Spanish notes Verity was studying which could hardly be called a book as it was several pages crudely stung together with a mish-mash of yarn and plastic ties. His claws ran through the pages of scribed writing and paused before turning back to Verity, his ashy face twisted in annoyance as he bared his fangs into a twitching smile. “This ‘book’ is on ancient Demonica.” He explained, slowly at first as a claw pierced the page he pointed to, “You didn’t summon me through maledictum coctione modi ! You read a passage in Latin about demon summoning you stulta puella !” “How was I supposed to know?!” Verity snapped back, “I haven’t slept in days because of midterms! I’m here on scholarships and I can’t afford to fail another class! The blood was from when I accidently cut myself, and those notes were from Quinn— Oh… Oh no…” Verity face-palmed herself as realization hit her letting her hands slide down to cover her face burning red in embarrassment, “Those weren’t Spanish notes… That was Quinn’s Theology thesis… on Demonica.'' Amnevar moved closer towards Verity, stretching out a hand to her when suddenly the blushing hue on her weary face shifted to a burning anger.“Quinn, that bloody bastard!” She spat, pushing past the demon and grabbing the punctured and crumpled notes, “They were supposed to give me their Spanish notes not their stupid Theology thesis on demons! I said I would edit it this weekend since the test was tomorrow! Now what am I supposed to do!?” Amnevar watched this odd human girl tear the notes apart from their crude bindings, throw her hands in the air, and slide down the counter until she landed on the floor, covering her eyes and completely forgetting about his presence much to his shock and annoyance. Sighing, the demon strided forward until he stood right in front of Verity, crouched, and then grabbed the mortal girl by the cheeks to examine her. Tears dripped down her hazel eyes, which held dark shadows beneath them, down past her tawny beige cheeks smeared in hints of smoke and tomato bits. All around her was this heavy layer of floral perfume which eventually caused Amenvar to step back in disgust. “What the–?” Verity gasped, struggling at first to escape the demon’s grip but giving up soon after as more tears streamed down. “Do they torture you mortal? You’re nothing but skin and bones, you reek horribly, and you seem close to death by exhaustion.” Amnevar hissed in dissatisfaction. “Shut up.” Verity hiccuped, trying to swat the demon spawn away, “Just go back to Hell and leave me alone to clean up this mess.” Amnevar scowled before asking, “What is it you desire most mortal?” Verity looked up, finally meeting the golden slitted eyes of Amnevar and felt compelled to answer. “I want to sleep. I want to pass my exams. I want to make my parents proud and prove to them that I’m not the leftovers of my twin. I want to do something I love rather than what everyone expects from me.” She whispers, her heart feeling heavy in a veil of untouched pain. Green wisps of smoke snaked around the two with every word spoken, coming forth from every tear and every breath Verity gave before lingering near Amnevar. “What if I could give you all those things and more? I am the vassal of Invidia and you are drenched in envy. It drips from you like honey from a hive.” He smiled sweetly, his voice deep and filled with promises. Verity stumbled upward, bracing herself for just a second onto Amnevar's firm muscular body and feeling the sharp edge of his tail as it swayed side to side like a cat’s. Pushing off from him she fumbled towards the other room in search of something. Amnevar followed after her expectly, smirking mischievously until Verity finally reached a bookshelf staring at the contents. The tendrils of smoke slithered around various items which Verity herself stared at. A picture frame holding the only picture of her family with her in it, several books on writing and poetry and finally several old cast off journals sitting sadly in the corner, each with worn out labels and words Verity could never say out loud. “So what will it be mortal?” Amnevar cooed seductively. “Let me guess… the price of what you offer is my soul, right?” Verity sighed, her eyes barely keeping themselves open as she leaned on the bookshelf. Amnevar smiled, showcasing his sharpened canines. The ash-skinned demon with an arrow tipped tail, pointed black horns, and short ebony curls just smiled at Verity as exhaustion began to win her over. “Why don’t we try a different form of payment, Little Verity?” He offered as sleep took over the mortal. xxxxxXxxxxx Verity woke up the next morning feeling oddly refreshed. The heaviness clouding her head and chest was gone, her shoulders felt lighter and her mind clearer. She also no longer smelled the bitterness of smoke but rather the air was filled with the crisp scent of bacon and toast. Wait– Something was missing or should she say wrong… Leaping out of bed, from which Verity couldn’t remember getting into, she dashed to the kitchen and found the cause of that delicious breakfast smell. The kitchen was clean of tomato sauce and smoke and instead the sound of sizzling meat and potatoes took its place. Flipping pancakes onto a plate was the demon from yesterday, the one Verity thought was from some fever dream, wearing a pink heart apron Verity thought she threw out long ago. “Y–You! You’re real!” She exclaimed, rubbing her eyes and slowly walking closer. “Of course I’m real, we made a deal yesterday.” He nonchalantly replied, cracking an egg onto a separate skillet. “And, you’re making breakfast?” “You really don’t remember anything, do you Verity?” Amnevar asked, surprising Verity with the use of her name. “No, why don’t you remind me?” She cautiously asked, feeling like someone with a hangover but knowing she never touched a single glass of alcohol. Amnevar sighed, twitching his tail in annoyance as he prepared a plate of pancakes, bacon, egg, and potatoes and set it across the kitchen island, “Eat first and I’ll give you an abridged version.” Verity slowly approached the plate of food, its delicious smell tempting her closer and closer as her stomach screamed for food. Sitting on one of the stools she picked up a fork and stuffed a piece of fluffy pancake drizzled with sweet syrup and melted butter into her mouth, almost crying in joy. “Long story short,” Amnevar began, watching Verity eat with an odd level of satisfaction, “You summoned me by some fatuus method and we made a deal. That deal being I help you with all your problems, the ones that make you envious of others. In exchange, I feed off of those feelings of envy you have. I don’t want your soul.” And then under his breath the demon mumbled, “You’re far too… intriguing for me to simply take your soul…” “WaitIhaveaquestion!” Verity interrupted, mumbling through a mouthful of bacon and potatoes before swallowing it down, “How do you feed? I vaguely remember you hovering over me while I slept and I’m getting concerned–” The demon grit his teeth and gave a twitching smile, showing hints of fangs and restrained anger, “I’m nothing like those Concubi of Luxuria so I won’t lay a hand on you. Think if it like, what’s the human word for it? Therapy.” “Therapy?” Verity echoed skeptically, wiping away syrup from her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, you tell me of the things that make you envious and I absorb those feelings.” Amnevar explained, grabbing the now empty breakfast plate and placing it in the sink, before conjuring a crystalline green apple. “It’s my version of energy, food, and it’s what allows me to stay on the Mortal Plane of Existence.” He smiled toothily before taking a bite of the odd apple, “This is what I gathered from our little session last night.” Verity twiddled with her thumbs, deep in thought as she processed this information. In the meantime, Amnevar simply snapped his fingers, conjuring the dirty dishes clean and making the pink apron disappear. Then proceeding to stare at Verity with golden eyes as if waiting for her next move, fiddling with the jade apple that oozed black ichor from his first bite. “Alright…” She breathed in a slow exhale, “ I’m still not sure of this whole bargain but, let’s try it out.” Amnevar smiled, almost happily, at Verity’s response as ethereal magic filled the room. And officially sealed the promise between girl and demon.(Not) LonesomeWho cares about a crawlerhiding in darknessand choking onhis own pitiful words? "No words, no worth."That's what the rules state. Loneliness keeps hitting meexcept when he,the one who holds the knife,assures me it's better this way. After all I will alwayshave some company (like him)insidemyhead.homefallen out of the midnight skya deep-end drop into starlit seascoming down to dusted earthin a tragic, yet brilliant blaze of glorypast millions of strings of lightyears of luminescence awayhe finds home