There's a stain on the wall about four inches to the left of the television set. The stain has been there for a long time. If Daryl were to look at it closely enough, which he never does, he'd still be able to see the spindly remains of an unlucky fly's legs. The fly’s left wing had fallen off from the wall about two weeks after its death, and now rests at the wall’s edge where it meets the floor, paper-thin and invisible, caked in a thin layer of dust.

A poorly-performed burial service.

Sometimes Daryl looks at the stain, but then whatever TV program he’s watching snatches his attention back, and he forgets about it again. Today, HGTV is on. Daryl thinks of changing it, but his hands are covered in barbeque sauce, so he leaves the remote where it is and continues eating. Onscreen, a kitchen is being gutted. Someone is taking a hammer to the cabinets, and Daryl wonders if the man’s safety goggles will leave funny marks around his eyes. He takes another bite of his chicken wing and then sets the plate aside, mostly untouched. He hasn’t had much of an appetite lately. Can’t even bring himself to lick the sticky sauce from his fingers, so he just rests his hands palms up on his lap, fingers curling inward.

There is a sink down the short hallway and into the kitchen, and he thinks of going to it. He’d take the plate of wings with him, maybe, so he could put the leftovers in the fridge for tomorrow. To Daryl, it doesn’t look like the countertops in the kitchen on his television screen are all that outdated, but a woman named Casey insists it’s necessary for the eventual cohesion of the space, and Daryl figures she probably knows better than him. It looks satisfying, breaking up the pieces and starting all over again.

Outside the window on the left side of the couch, the sun is making its slow descent. Orange bleeds into the room, folding itself into the single, beige pillow and disappearing. Daryl doesn’t notice. They’ve started in on the master bedroom now.

In the daylight, Daryl tells himself that there are things worth doing.

Sometimes he goes to the grocery store and stands in the aisle underneath the blinking fluorescents and tries to remember which kind of ice cream is his favorite. In the end, he just gets chocolate. He’s glad for the automatic checkout lines, the robotic voice of a woman he doesn’t know that asks how many bags he’d like and tells him he can insert his credit card now. There are people here. He can see them even beneath the ugly lights. Terse glances at calorie counts, the playful gaze of a girl holding up a sushi roll for her boyfriend to see. (This one, babe?), a mother reaching for a dropped pacifier, eternal patience etched into her smile lines. Daryl knows he belonged here, once, but the world passed him by a long time ago, and God knows it won’t be slowing down anytime soon. Certainly not for him.

In front of the TV again, Daryl dips into the ice cream container. He’s sure there’s a bowl somewhere in the kitchen, but the cabinets always seem to glare at him, wondering why they’re not being updated. Today, it’s a crime show of some kind. Flashing red lights, caution tape surrounding the outside of somebody’s shattered, suburban life. The camera follows a sandy-haired man and his giant of a partner into the house, bloodstains smudged sporadically along the carpet as they make their way into the foyer. A melted bit of ice cream drips onto Daryl’s socked foot. He ignores it.

“Could be a ghost,” the sandy-haired man says only to his partner, voice dipped too low for the other investigators to hear.

Huh, Daryl thinks. Not just a regular crime show then.

Outside his window, the sun has been down for hours. The dead fly on the wall beside the television screen loses another leg, weightless and tiny and impossible to notice. A packet of barbeque sauce from Daryl’s chicken wings has tipped over, seeping sluggishly into the beige pillow closest to the window. Tomorrow, Daryl will see the unfixable stain, and he will be filled with an overwhelming sadness that cannot be explained.

The day after that, he will sit back down on the couch and finish off the rest of his ice cream. The pillow will be flipped over, barbeque sauce side down.

A poorly-performed burial service.

Name: Marion Jesper

Sex: Female

Age: 23-24

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual (though she responds as "I don't care.")

Race/Ethnicity: White, Danish

Family: Agnes Jesper (Younger sister, desceased)

Religion: Pagan

Profession: Linguist

Apperance: Petite (just barely average height for a woman her age) with long, blonde hair, green eyes that change shades in the light. Freckles on face, neck, shoulders, arms, back. Somewhat large chest for a woman her size. James and Angela both comment that she looks like "a little kid," much to her dismay.

Personality: Marion is a serious woman who hates being treated like a child and looked down on. She has a bit of a superiority complex. She doesn't bother with materital things because there's more to life than that. She prides herself on being a "worldly" and "well-versed" individual because she believes that people will take her seriously. On the low, she is very insecure of her abilities, though she talks big. She is still grieving her little sister's death.

Abilities: Witches can possess and learn multiple forms of magic, so they are not limited to one practice if talented enough. Marion, in "Turning Tables," introduces herself as a "powerful witch." I'm assuming that, given how she deals in demonas and can break/augment curses, she's a Kurse witch with Pyro, Time, Summoning, Potions and light healing abilities.

-Kurse: Marion an both break and elevate curses, such as how she augments Angela's Mark. Doing so, however, drains her greatly.

-Pyro: Wrath demons are especially flammable and, from what Marion thinks, Carlos is Wrath so...

-Time: Marion can see the future in quick visions or through careful meditation in which she can watch several different timelines (Good and Bad Ends) and judge the causes of each one.

-Healing: Not Marion's best form of magic, as she is still learning it. She can heal herself through incatations and bring basic organisms (plants, basically) back to life/have them grow healthier, but she does not know how to heal others without draining or harming herself.

Relationships:

-w/ Angela: Angela and Marion do not get along at first because Angela didn't trust her. Witches are discriminated against in the spn community because they were humans that chose to turn to the dark arts, something that Angela holds against Marion. As time goes by, however, Angela learns to trust Marion and the two of them become good friends.

-w/ James: James and Marion do not see eye-to-eye, despite their common goal. James’s bias towards witches and Marions’s against demons strengthens their disdain for each other. There are times, however, where they can get along quite well and relate to each other. (Possible romance?)

-w/ Carlos: Marion hates Carlos with everything in her because he murdered his sister... for fun. She wants nothing but to see him dead, but on her terms (which sparks much of the tension between her and James because they want to kill Carlos on their own)

-w/ Lola: Marion cares deeply for Lola because she reminds her so much of Agnes. She would be absolutely devastated if something happened to Lola's innocence or safety.

Special Notes:

-Marion panics at the sight of blood because of PTSD from her sister's death

-Marion is very powerful and can effortlessly draw raw power into her spells, but because she is still on the younger side and is mostly self-taught, she is not the best with quickly channeling her magic

-Marion is not the best at thinking under pressue

-Marion holds incredible bias against demons because of Carlos

-Marion can actually take a demon Familiar because she deals so closely with demonic magic, but she doesn't know how to on the spot (hint hint hint)

It was a long fall.

A cold sweat was carried off Tizzle's face by a gentle, cruel breeze. At his back, behind the sword, was a mineral-bedazzled stone wall. A few inches from his feet was a tremendous precipice. Tizzle watched the many elitist manors sprinkled along the volcano's vast slope. They looked like distant, sharpened imp hats, threatening in every aspect.

A smirk of mischief played on his face, as if he were trying to smile away the fear. Internally, this was not working. He was terrified, but he continued anyway, creeping on a ledge, outside a castle's uppermost tower, near the volcano's crater.

The things people did to save a princess. He thought, as he hugged his way around another useless pillar. Thankfully, his last useless pillar, his entrance came in sight. It wouldn't be long now, just a few- more- shuffles- aaaand-

*pop*

Tizzle flicked off the cork to a vial hanging off his waist, then aimed the opening towards the glass pane. A star shot from the vial and splashed over the window’s surface. A foundry of crackles and twinkles rung before the glass shattered all at once. Though, instead of descending, each broken shard hung in place, twirling in slow motion. Tizzle stepped through the frame while window shards peeled away from his body like a theatre curtain. He leaped down to stable, glossy flooring, boots clacking at contact, taking a stylish, single knee bow, and smirking with self-pleasure.

Tizzle rose his head, "Hello prince-" he couldn't finish that sentence, or rather- he should have ended the greeting right then and there, for the young man sitting casually on a throne, facing this window, was no princess. Though he was wearing a lopsided crown, so maybe...

"Are you..."

"The prince?" the man finished. "Hell no. I'm more of a messenger in cosplay playing dress up. They call me Skyss." Skyss nodded the crown off his head and spun the rim around his fingers.

Tizzle rose an eyebrow, but was now on edge, looking closer through the luxurious room, it was in shambled; silks and bedsheets littered here and there, wardrobe stuffing hanging out of their folders, lamps toppled over, chairs cut in half; this place was a disaster.

Tizzle took a step back and moved his hand closer to the sword over his shoulder. Skyss stood abruptly in response. "My master saw you climbing this way on her way out. She felt bad and sent me to inform you… that you're too late to save anyone." Skyss caught the poof of the crown in his palm the same moment Tizzle's hand wrapped around his hilt "And when I asked her what I should do with you afterward, she told me . . . . .

'Do what you want'"

In an instant, Skyss's crown morphed into a grimoire that floated and fluttered its pages violently. Tizzle swore under his breath, not expecting Skyss to be a mage. Colour, wind, and runes whirled in spirals all around the room, grimoire pages blocked Tizzle's view before a blast of wind knocked him off his feet, his back colliding heavily against the window sill.

The wind stopped just as soon as it started and when Tizzle managed to open his eyes again there was a girl standing behind a collapsing Skyss. She wore slim-fitted torso and waist armor under a cloak, with black arm and shin guards. All over her outfit were various daggers and knives of all shapes and sizes, and held in her right hand was a bloodied, polearm naginata dripping inches from the ground, beside the body.

The girl strolled over to Tizzle and helped him up. He coughed. "Thanks... but... who are you?" She stared at him for a moment then peeled off the mask from her nose and mouth, as well as the hood from her head, revealing a circlet and bristled, golden earrings streaming through her hazel hair.

"The princess, obviously." She answered.

Not a moment later, she leaped to the edge of the window. The glass shards had been shockwaved far outside the window's frame to float and twirl in the open air, decorating the background view he had of her.

Half-stunned, Tizzle blurted, "wh-where are you going?"

"Wherever the Prince is! I gotta save him!" And with that, she leapt out of the picture, leaving Tizzle to gawk at nothing, in a room of nothing.

“Well,” I asked, “what was it like?”

The old woman took her time, her opaque white eyes staring into the distance. I looked at the woman’s eye sockets, hanging low and making her almost zombie-like.

“Hm!” I prompted.

“It’s like...” she spoke in slow motion, the words scrapping her throat, “well, I went outside one morning, and I saw them, laughing and pounding at the windows. I told them, I told them, to go away, but they didn’t. So, I opened the door...”

“And?”

“And they turned into birds, every one of them. They were crows, except they were still laughing, ugly human laughs. And when I looked up, the sky, it was... purple. The kind of evil purple a tyrant king wears or the one before a tornado.”

I cleared my throat. “Oh... that sounds, um, it must’ve been awful. But it wasn’t real, you know, you were only dreaming.”

The woman slowly drummed her skeletal fingers on the table. “No,” she said, drawing the word out, “I’m quite sure it was real...”

At her words, the old woman suddenly disappeared, like she’d evaporated. I froze for a moment, but I was somehow unsurprised.

“Oh.” I said, my voice a rasp.

I looked down. Gone were the manicured hands of youth, replaced by the twisted and speckled skin of the old woman. I’m her, I thought, and then, of course you are, Ruth. You only made the girl up for some company. Dementia, the doctor said. Remember?

But I’d been her! I had been the girl! I shook my head, my white locks shaking. I pushed myself up from the table and walked towards the window, hobbling on my knobbed feet.

I just had to know... but it couldn’t be...

I pulled open the door and turned my face heaven-bound...

And the sky was purple.

I wake up to the sound of your footsteps. No matter how soft each step, I can still hear them. My heart beats quicker. My attention rises. I'm like a child, eager for your attention.

Last night I noticed your worry. You had a far off stare, and hardly said a word to me. But things have changed. Afterall, this is a new day, the sun is up, the morning is filled with possiblities.

I look up from my place, my eyes wide with curoisity, and patiently wait while you pour some coffee into your mug. I call to you, but you only yawn. My spirit takes a tumble. Do you even see me? Am I an object, or a ghost, or a mere painting on the wall?

You turn away in a moody silence; I hear the drumming of water from the shower. When you come back, you're dressed and ready to leave. I put my best face on, throw out a whimper of excitment...

I get a pat on the head, a bowl full of food, and you walk out the door without me. This is my life, and you complain about yours! What does a dog have to do to get some affection around here?

(This is both the canon and changed information about Angela, who you all have written so gloriously about over the last week. I will be posting character info and tagging the writers of the challenge who I've spoken to already so that they know what's up with the coming story)

Name: Angela Delgado

Sex: Female

Age: 23-24 years old

Race/Ethnicity: Latina, Puerto Rican

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Family: Lola Delgado (sister, not by blood), Luis Delgado (father, not by blood), Unnamed father (human, by blood), Sarah Madera (mother, former Possessor), James Burns (half-brother)

Religion: Agnostic

Profession: Prostitute (formerly), Bartender (currently; bar is for wealthy, spn creatures of all backgrounds, but mostly demons, who are at the top of the food chain), Soon: Nurse (working on license)

Mate: Carlos Elizondo (or is he?)

Apperance: Angela is fairly tall, Puerto Rican. She is very attractive with a "big sister" appearance. Curvy figure; leggy. Deep, chocloate-colored eyes (with dark circles around them that she hides with makeup), chocolate-brown, wavy hair (shoulder length) - "stress-prone." Mark: looks like the crown of Lust, on the back of her hand that she says is a "birthmark." Scars on hips from both injections and self-harm from previous depression. Angela is Gemini, so she has a two-face tattoo on the back of her left shoulder.

Abilities: Pre!Marion: No noteworthy abilities, aside from being able to see Supernatural creatures for what they really are (baseline Possessor ability); bound to demon counterpart. Post!Marion: Can temporarily (cannot stress that enough) gain the abilities of the demon she is bound to, draining them in the process (shadow manip, minor elemental manip, telepathy, clairvoyance, summoning, blood manip, soul manip, augmented speed, strength, senses, satanic fire manip, etc).

Personality: Angela is an unusually cold and aloof person, which she demonstrates to everyone - including James after they find out they're related. She doesn't have the patience for games and likes straight-forward solutions. She is still a recovering opiod-addict and refrains from even prescriptions out of fear of relapse.

Relationships:

-w/ Lola: Ultimate older sister. Loves Lola unconditionall and would do anything to see her happy. She uses what little money from whatever odd jobs she works to pay for Lola's boarding school, not wanting her to be involved in any of the mess Angela is.

-w/ James: At first, Angela doesn't trust James nor does she even like him (she thinks he's a "whiny bitch"). But, as the two of them work together, they become closer (some could say romantic). When they find out that they are siblings, however, angela pulls back and reverts back to being cold and shelterd around him, although there are moments where she will openly express concern for his well-being, much like how she would with Lola.

-w/ Carlos: Angela hates Carlos with everything she has and would love to see him die (which amuses him greatly, because he knows how she feels about him. She's very vocal.) However, Carlos knows the most about Angela and all her baggage, so he knows how to manipulater her into doing something stupid and/or illegal or even into his bed. To an extent, Angela knows how to manipulate Carlos, too, to push his buttons or even set him off or get him to leave her alone or do something for her. Their dynamic is very unhealthy.

-w/ Marion: Angela barely trusts Marion and, until she finds out why the witch wants Carlos dead, openly berates her for practicing witchcraft (which is highly looked down on). They eventually grow to be good friends considering how alike they are and Marion becomes the only person other than Lola and Raul that Angela is kind to.

-w/ Raul: Angela has known raul for several years, so she has no problem with him dating Lola. She trusts him with her sister's life and is opnely knid to him (this is change dun dun DUNNNN)

Special Notes:

-Angela has no initial abilites pre!Marion except for being able to peep the spn

-Angela finds out that she is mated with a demon at 21, when she becomes addicted to drugs and really immerses herself in the spn world around her reality

-Carlos is in and out of angela's life, taking several different forms to manipulate her (pimp, dealer, psychiatrist, etc), but officially introduces himself to her when she starts working at the bar

-Angela is not half/quarter demon anymore (that was just too confusing, so I'm scrapping it). Angela's biological mother, Sarah, though marked, bad Angela with a human man that she loved. Later, Sarah and Carlos have James, where she dies. Before getting with Carlos, though, Sarah leaves Angela with her old friend, Luis Delgado, to take care of her - Angela believes that he is her biological father.

-Angela is highkey LATINA along with many of the other characters (except for Marion)

-Scrapping the bit about the hair that Angela keeps because it's confusing and Sarah wouldn't have blonde hair if she's Latina so...

The music was still playing. Still, she could hear something rotating, incessantly spinning somewhere close to her head. It was something metal on pavement. It was slowing and getting annoying now. She opened her eyes in a haze, to find it and stop it. She found a hand instead, it took hers.

“You’ve been in an accident ma’am,” an urgent but calm voice recited to her. It was coming from above, or was it below?

“My children…” She said, barely.

“They’re alive. Please we need to get you out, your car is flipped, you’re upside down, can you undo your seatbelt?”

“I can try.” She said, feeling stronger.

“Not yet, let me get ahold of you first, I’m going to do my best to get the door open.” It was then she realized he was lying on the pavement talking through her broken driver side window. She looked up at the road through her moon roof, she saw the broken glass, glass everywhere, even in her hair, and thought of her children…my god, her children.

“Please hurry,” she begged and began praying. He pried the door open and smiled.

“I think He’s watching you, ma’am. I was washing the ambulance across the street and saw the accident. I rushed over in seconds and got the kids out…”

“Where are they? Get me out of here!” She yelled, then took a breath.

“I’m sorry. Please it’s hell down here, get me out.” She said, he took hold of her.

“You’re right, I was just so glad you were alive. I’ll lift you up first, then you should be able to undo the seat belt, and I’ll bring you down. Ready?” He asked.

“Yes.” She answered, and released the belt, he carried her to the stretcher. She smiled at seeing her two children, occupied with lollipops, and noticed a man standing to the side stretching in pain. It was the other driver, in the black car that had appeared out of nowhere and hit her.

“Does anything hurt?” The ambulance driver asked.

“Nothing, honestly I’m fine. What will happen to him?” She gestured to the other driver, who promptly bolted out from the side, obviously waiting for the invitation.

“What will happen?” The other driver exclaimed and continued.

“What will happen, is your insurance company will buy me a new car. Are you blind? Jesus!” He said, and she raised her hand to stop him.

“What I can see, is an insurance judge handing a fat check to the single mom and her two crying kids.” She said, noticing that her face was warm. The ambulance driver came from the front to stop the fight, he had been on the phone.

“You two save it all for your statements. Kids, your mother needs medical attention. Could you both hop into the ambulance and sit in the front? Ma’am, I’ll help you into the back.”

“Yes do, I’m sure she’ll show up to court in a wheel chair.” The other driver snarled.

“Sir, there’s no need to be snide, have a seat inside the back, I'll look at you too.”

“I want him put away!” She yelled.

“Please ma’am, calm down.” The ambulance driver said, bringing her into the back, possessing her hand.

“Sit tight,” he said to the children in front, and then looked back to her.

“Your name, ma’am?” He asked.

“Lilith Burns.”

“Your maiden name?” He insisted.

“That’s my maiden name.” She said, noticing her face getting warmer now. He smiled and turned around to the other driver.

“Your name, sir?” He asked.

“Carlos,” the other driver answered grinning, and as quickly as his car had appeared, the man disappeared, vanishing in front of her. The ambulance driver chuckled standing before the vanished driver’s now empty seat.

“My name is Carlos too.” He said to no one, and as he turned moving to shut the back doors, her face started searing. In an instant, she was yelling in pain, almost paralyzed. She could hear her children crying up front. Soon, he started the engine and music began playing. She heard him answer his phone.

“Good Girl…” she heard him say.

Or, at least I think this is what’s going on so far. Please fact check me in the comments if you’re following the challenge. I’ll also update this as the plot thickens (cuz smack someone just posted another part of the challenge and I’m like, “Damn, son”)

1) Angela (the “protagonist” so far) is chilling with her younger sister, Lola, and Lola’s boyfriend, Raul (can’type the accent, my goood he is my OC get it together); Lola and Raul are students at an expensive boarding school that is away from Lola’s home. Angela is in her twenties and works a “mysterious job” that Lola knows jack shit about. Lola and Raul are total geeks, reading a fanfic by @poeticpages (“blindfolded truth.” - check it out, y’all. It’s the real OG) Angela gets a call from Carlos and, begrudingly, has to leave Lola and Raul and head to work (the plot of “reality check.”)

(It’s kinda funny how the story is going so far, because Angela was actually supposed to be an ex-escort and Carlos is her pimp... BUT I LIKE THIS PLOTLINE BETTER LIKE HELL YEAH)

2) Okay, so the plotline diverges here because both @Writingthewords and @TaiSensei wrote deadass amazing entries, both of which you should check out. I think they come back together at one point when James Burns is introduced. In “The Encounter,” Carlos basically drags Angela into an alley and it stops there after Angela leaves the school. In “The Mark,” it explains the dynamic Angela has with Carlos and her family; basically, the women in Angela’s family are to eternally be born by male demons, or Incubbi (I think) then, when of age, they are seduced and impregnated by different males, continuing a long ass line of half-blooded women. The next in line is signified by a “mark” on their arm (is it the Mark of Cain? It kinda seems like the Mark of Cain.) Carlos is Angela’s “mate” and he mistreats her. It doesn’t say if Lola is apart of the line, so I’m assuming its only the first-born daughters who inherit the mark.

3) So I’m tired af atm so idk if I get the premise down right, but @Jfrogg75′s “Angel of Darkness” is saying that Angela is actually this super OP deity (I think Santa Muerte) and she’s like a minion to Carlos, who is still a demon in this; she constantly does his favors (some innappropriate). This changes, however, because it’s later said that Angela is something called a “Possessor” (details about what a Possessor is hasn’t totally been fleshed out yet, but I’m excited to see what people come up with!)

4) After “Angel of Darkness” though, it goes back to Angela getting jumped or whatever tf by Carlos (who can shapeshift into random ass, pasty-looking men lol) and he takes a lock of golden hair from this vial she carries around, which I think he uses to gain leverage over her (“Revelation,” by @Teesha). The hair that he’s taking from her, however, is shown to be fake and a very peculiar and eccentric demon hunter with a troubled past, named James Burns, leaves this card in Angela’s pocket during the drama (“Decisions,” by @doublejoywilson). This dude is highkey magical in a lot of ways (no particular practice is mentioned, so I’m assuming that he’s a jack of all trades or just born magical) and, after Angela trashes the card he leaves her, he just goes and outright follows her home, another card appearing in her pocket (I think so he can track her location). Apparently, James Burns wants revenge against Carlos for something unsaid. This is explained in an untitled entry by @InvisibleWriter.

(There’s another version of this, where the plot diverges again, called “The Curse” by @carissa7127. Nobody picked up after that, but if someone does, hit me up because I really like what she did there)

5) James Burn’s backstory is explained in “James Burns” by @Vik_Blot. He’s half-human, half-demon, much like Angela, and he still wants revenge against Carlos for making him the way he is. James also killed his mother at birth (because human women can’t handle giving birth to demons. It makes perfect sense). When reevaluating what he saw in the alley, James then hypothesises that Angela is a “Possessor”

6) Finally, in “A Meeting” by @kelli_rie, James and Angela meet each other because James kinda broke into her house (did he watch her change clothes? That’s some Twilight kind shit omg) and Angela, freaking out, puts all her personal business out there and James is like, “Uh-huh, okay, yeaaaaa” while he’s analyzing her. He admits to her that he wants revenge against Carlos, knowing that she wants him out of her own life. And, shockingly, they pull some Luke and Leia shit because the two of them are siblings (I guess Angela is the older sister?). Crazy, right?

7) Angela, in @EmberJoy’s “Turning Tables,” reflects on the conversation she had with Burns a few hours before. She seems to have denied his offer because she was convinced that associating herself with another demon would result in James later claiming her after Carlos dies. Angela then meets a witch named Marion who gives her the ability to kill Carlos in exchange for her mother’s hair. At first, Angela refuses, but later relents and allows Marion to cast a spell on her and sews the hair in with the mark on her hand/forearm, intensifying Angela’s Possessor abilities. The entry ends open endedly with Carlos coming for Angela and Angela ready to kill him.

8) Okay, so this is gotta be one of my favorite entries so far because @SG took the pimp-mentality I was going for and the sadistic bastard y’all made and turned it into something absolutely sinister. In “Carlos,” the ‘Carlos’ Angela was about to kill was an apperation made by the actual Carlos, who is watching everything unfold with her, James and Marion from the distance. Carlos is actually manipulating the three of them into coming together so he can do whatever tf evil schemes he has cooked up. This man is sick, like jfc, and the indirect incest is killing me holy shit. The only thing I’m confused about, and someone fact check me if you can, is if Angela is lowkey Carlos’s daughter, or if she’s the daughter of Sarah, Angela’s mother, and another man/demon. It’s still canon that James and Angela are siblings, though, both bore from Sarah.

This is all I have so far. I’m really enjoying the way the plotline is going, especially with everyone’s different writing styles coming together (it’s actually building up smoother than I thought it would). My plan is that, when this challenge is done, I’ll go back and fully flesh out Angela, Lola, Carlos and Raul. Highkey don’t know who exactly made James, but message me his info. I wanna go back and write out the story again, with everything together, so it makes slightly more sense and so it’s one, whole thing.

Edit: So the challenge is almost over, meaning that I'm going to flesh out the characters I've already made using a lot of the concepts people have added already. My only thing about the entries so far is I am hella confused about the dynamic with James-Angela-Carlos and whether they're all related through Carlos. If so, where would Lola (Angela's little sister) come in, who is essential to the plot because she is Angela's TLC. When I go to write the story, I want to add Lola adn Raul (or maybe kill Raul), but I've gotta flesh out whether she's related to Angela by blood or another relation. If anyone has suggestions, please hit me up.

#ProseChallengeLXXVII #WhoIsAngela #WhoIsJamesBurns #WHOTFISCARLOS

He couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to have stumbled upon the Possessor, right?

Angela snuck back into her home and crept silently down the hall and into her room. She really didn’t need a questioning from Lola after the events she had already endured that evening. As she slipped from her clothes and into her pajamas she felt a strange niggling from her pants pocket. A familiar fear surged through her body. A demon was summoning her. But it didn’t feel exactly the same. This felt… more human than demon; there was warmth mixed in with the coldness. She tentatively reached into the pants and pulled out that very same dog-eared business card she had previously destroyed. Carlos wasn’t usually so persistent in his testing. This must be someone else. It didn’t feel the same.

“Alright James Burns. Let’s meet. I’m ready.” This was all the summons he needed before appearing in front of her. He took on a new form before appearing. Old Noir detective seemed to make the most sense, what with the business card and all. He was dashing in his sharp trench coat and fedora. This wasn’t what Angela was expecting.

“I see you have yourself a demon problem. James Burns at your service.” He smiled and took her hand to shake it. She pulled her hand away like she had been bitten by a snake.

“Do you have any idea what you’re involving yourself in Mr. Burns? Carlos is the worst type of demon. He has hold of my whole life. He might be listening to us right now. How do I know you aren’t involved with him? I can trust no one.” She blurted all of this out while he smiled at her. She continued rambling at him; she was explaining her life story. She couldn’t believe how much she felt like spilling her guts to this man she just met. Why did she feel a close connection to a complete stranger?

“Oh I am definitely involved with Carlos.” He said casually. Angela started backing away, but realized there was nowhere to go in her small room. Why did she tell him all of that? James saw he was terrifying her and added, “but not like that! I want him destroyed same as you! I don’t know what you’ve offered him in payment, but he’s pretty focused on you. That didn’t happen to be a lock of hair in that vial did it?” He casually added that last question, trying not to look too concerned over the answer.

“Yes, it was a lock of hair, but not the lock he actually wanted. I didn’t complete the job correctly. He doesn’t have what he thinks he does. I do. I possess my mother’s lock of hair.”

“Strange choice of words.” He grinned, “To use the word, ‘possess’ very strange. Angela just looked at him, not understanding his amusement. She felt bare, stripped, drained. Why had she told this man/demon so much? Was this his demonic power?

James began to reflect. So she is the Possessor. How convenient. She possesses the golden lock of hair that Carlos has been seeking. Her mother’s hair. Turns out Carlos has also been seeking a lock of his mother’s hair. The same lock of hair. So, Angela is my sister. So sorry I killed our mother. Sorry Angela. Damn you Carlos!

“I will destroy Carlos for you. Let’s talk payment.”

Much worse, he thought to himself, flicking ash off his cigarette and stepping out of the shadows to follow Angela. But he could live with doing a little worse if it meant getting revenge on Carlos.

James Burns was never supposed to be born. As unnatural as a frigid inferno or a planet orbiting around a black hole, he belonged neither in the human world nor in the demonic underbelly. A hybrid who shared compassion and cruelty, a lust for creation and a lust for destruction; he had to hide his true origin for as long as he remembered. His existence alone was a defiance to the laws governing earth and his mother was the one who paid the price. He never met her, for he was condemned to kill her as soon as he took his first breath, but her voice still echoed in his mind, singing lullabies while still in the womb. He remembered the warmth of her love when she’d rub her belly and read fairytales to her unborn—it was the blessing and curse of his duality and the nourishment of his hatred. Yes, James Burns was prepared to do anything to get revenge on Carlos; the creature who sowed him, the demon who bestowed a taste for murder on him, the father who gifted him the thirst for blood, and soon the half-breed would return the favor...

James would watch the earth burn and be reborn again if it meant fulfilling his life’s purpose. He had waited an eon for the perfect candidate, the missing piece, the correct pawn to set his plan into motion, and, of all the minions his father leashed, Angela was far the most promising. She nurtured the right amount of aversion for James to exploit in convincing her to switch sides and the rebellious personality to encourage her to fight back. He had to find a way to summon her. Tiptoeing between the world of the living and the kingdom of monsters came with limitations. No mortal could come within arm’s reach without feeling the chill of corruption in their hearts. As for a mortal who carried the Mark, he was as bare to their gaze as the shadow of an atom under a microscope. Should he ever approached her without permission, should she ever saw his true form, Angela’s sanity without a doubt would be ripped to shreds and then she’d be useless to him.

He trailed her back to her house and lingered outside, contemplating on his next move—if she kept rejecting his card, he’d have to try a different way—when, through the walls, his eyes caught a glimpse that seemed imperceptible to everyone but the marked human. It crackled with energy that tingled his skin. It called to him but at the same time stung like a porcupine wiggling inside his brain. His mind circled back to the exchange he witnessed in the dark alley, the mysterious box and the golden lock, and a gear snapped into place, forcing a gasp out of him. It couldn’t be... He couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to have stumbled upon the Possessor, right?