(CW: Assault, Discussion Of Blood, Discussion Of Harm Of A Minor)

(CW: Assault, discussion of blood, discussion of harm of a minor)

I give the standard introductory speech, ending it with the number of people who made it out. I nearly fumble on the second line - I haven't been on this job for long - but push through it.

The human wages a silent war in their head before jumping directly in the first test, their first worst sin (they're in chronological order). An astonishing percentage of people have gotten stuck on this one and not gotten out.

They were fifteen. They had figured out they were non-binary, and told their parents. Their parents didn't like it, using incorrect pronouns, belittling them, and refusing to use the gender neutral name (Kel) they decided on. It all came to a head when their father used a slur.

They snapped.

They ran straight at their father and kicked him in the balls. He doubled over. Their mother tried to restrain them, but they were not having it and punched her in the face. A fight ensued. Stuff was thrown. Kel broke the TV and tipped over a bookshelf, nearly taking their father with it. They pushed over the sofa onto their mother's leg, which surprisingly didn't break. Kel was thrown out of the house and told to never come back, but they snuck back inside.

Kel didn't help clean up the mess, instead grabbing everything they could and staying at a friend's house. They didn't go back there for years.

But now they're here, and they just stepped into the test. The official designation of it is THE TEST OF WRATH.

Kel opens the door and leap inside, but their face falls the moment their feet land.

Their parents are in there, surrounded by a mansion of broken cabinets, shattered glass, and tumbled furniture. Kel stares at them.

"Clean this up," their father barks. "Clean it up, or you'll never set foot in this house again."

They turn to the door, but it has vanished. They cannot leave.

"Clean it up," their father repeats.

They start crying, reaching for a tissue on the floor.

"Clean it up, why don't you," shouts their mother this time. She talks towards them and starts shouting, slurs and insults and threats, and all the while they sit there, crying.

Then their father joins in.

The house that was once as still as a lake before dawn was now filled with all the shouts and screams of the three warring family members.

Their parents are here, but they're in a different test. They are currently dealing with an apparition the shape of an arsonist, if I recall correctly. The people whom Kel's dealing with are only apparitions.

Kel picks themselves up and starts running away. They are still sobbing, but in an effort to disrupt their parents, they grab one of the fallen curtains and throw it over their father.

"What is this? What have you put on me?" their father shouts. He stumbles towards the sound of Kel's quiet gasps and footsteps.

Kel darts back and forth, wincing at every step they make. The floor is covered in glass, after all. And Kel was given no shoes.

Their father walks towards Kel, dragging the curtain with him. The curtain collects the glass and debris as he walks, sweeping a path clear of any sharp objects.

Kel gets an idea, I can see their head perk up.

But before they can put it into action, their mother comes up behind them and kicks them in the knees, causing Kel to fall to the floor. They scream as their body falls hard onto the sharp, sharp debris.

And then their mother starts kicking them. She attacks everywhere she can get to without moving the foot she's standing on. Their father starts wriggling out of the curtain.

"Clean it up," their mother screams. "Look at what you did! Look at the mess you made! Look!"

Kel cries, half unintelligible words tumbling out of their mouth. "Mommy, I'm sorry. I'll clean- I'll clean!" They start screaming as their father gets the curtain off and starts kicking them as well.

The cycle repeats. Kel screams, their parents repeat the instructions, they kick them. And yet there's no blood.

It's a quirk of the test, we can manipulate body parts and functions as we wish. Kel's blood will show on their body, the cuts will be red and they will scab over, and it'll smear if they rub a cut against something. But it won't pour out. It won't form a puddle. It won't stick their clothes to their body.

Finally, Kel gains the strength to move. They roll away from their parents, their back and legs covered in shards, and shakily get to their knees. They start running, looking frantically for something.

There are no brooms in the house. I made sure of that. There's straw, there's handles, there's a pit to the void disguised as a garbage can, but no full brooms. Kel will have to make their own.

I watch them find the handles and attach straw to them. I watch them start sweeping, and when no dustpan is found, they make one. They're a lot more resourceful than I thought, when they were alive they didn't like crafting.

They become better, overtime. As their parents destroy the items they make, Kel remakes them. They try to tie their parents up, but it's no use - the apparitions are as strong as they need to be to continue hounding Kel.

The parents, however, won't make any of the mess worse than it is. Oh, they can knock the dustpan out of their hands, and scatter anything in it to the floor, but they can't make more mess than there already is. There's simply nothing to break.

The rooms get swept clean. One grand ballroom here, one bedroom there. One bathroom here, one kitchen there. One stairwell here, one hallway there.

It takes years for Kel to clean it all. Six of them, to be precise. Six years where they don't sleep or eat or drink or get a rest from the people trying to harm them. Six years of constant sweeping and looking for the next room to clean.

But when it's done, the exit door doesn't appear. I know why, of course. Kel hasn't completed all of the test yet. But they don't know that, so they spend the next week looking in every room, every nook and cranny. And then they get lost in half of the hallways, so they have to spend some more time finding their way back. All of this takes two weeks.

Finally, they accept that the house is clean. It really is. There's no dust in any corner or shards of glass in any room.

But the test isn't over.

They still have to finish it. Their parents are saying more ominous things now, forcing them to contemplate their options.

"Repent," their parents chant. "Repent to those you have hurt."

They don't make a move against Kel now, only walking towards them and telling them to repent.

It takes three months before Kel finally satisfies this request.

"Dad, I'm sorry," they say one day, and based off the chemical reactions coming off of their body right now, they mean it.

"For what?" He mumbles gruffly.

"For... for destroying your house. All that time ago," Kel answers. They turn to their mother. "And I'm sorry to you, too. For the same thing."

The opposite of wrath is patience, and it seems Kel has finally found it.

They all hug. They wander around the house, saying nice things that don't mean much. Kel accidently walks into the exit door, and seems sad when their parents evaporate as they step over the threshold.

"Human, age 78 at time of death, favourite scent lemon verbena, favourite music genre classical turned electronica, mortal designation Kel?" I ask.

"Yes," they answer.

"You have passed the first test," I inform them. "Time for round two."

(Let me know if I should continue this!)

“Welcome to Hell. To leave, all you must do is finish seven impossible tasks decided by your seven greatest sins. Four people have made it out so far. Will you be the fifth?”

my advice to you is to never waste your time trying to fit into a club or hobby or any community who makes you beg for acceptance and approval just to participate when you could do the alternative—get involved in a niche and endangered hobby run primarily by old people.

i wanted to learn how to hunt ruffed grouse and train bird dogs so i sent an email to my local chapter of the ruffed grouse society explaining that getting into wildlife groups is intimidating to me because I’m trans

and all they saw was that someone under 60 wanted to learn to hunt grouse & several months into my mentorship I was told that like 7 old guys argued over me until they had to pick a number between 1 and 100 to decide who got to personally mentor me.

imagine vying for the acceptance of some gatekeeping weirdos when your mere interest could be inciting verbal combat among retirees

y'all ever reach the end of google

Remember: Suicide is cowardice. Outlive your enemies.

Satan, probably

Also. Murder is against the law. Don't murder yourself or you'll get arrested.

@sir-ramic @energylessartist @theultimatefloorskittle @twoarrsandonesea @stargazer-luna @stonerwizardsandwitch @queermarzipan @crownamedblue

sigh. i cant believe im doing this.

if this gets 8k notes by the first week of october ill promise to stay alive one more year.

Swords according to my friend

So me, my friend, and I were talking over dinner with a few other friends around. Sometime during the meal we entered the topic of how every country has their own murder stick (yes I am taking that from that other tumblr post)

This was where I learned my friend has an alarming amount of knowledge on this topic. We started naming countries and he gave an example of their region's murder stick. Enclosed are a few excerpts from the conversation, with all words after the country as exact a quote as I remember.

The US: The country known for having loads of guns and you think they don't have a murder stick?

Argentina: Long ones. That's all I remember.

France: (general shout around the table) Rapier!

Saudi Arabia: Oh god. We're talking about the country that likes to go around conquering other countries. With scimitars. (Laughter abounds) No, no, people! Just imagine, a group of these people running across the sands with scary curved swords would be enough to make you fall down!

The UK: Do you remember the British Empire? You know, the thing that literally conquered half the world? Now do you remember?! They had murder sticks!

Mongolia: That was a place you couldn't turn your head without encountering a pointy object.

Italy: Okay. So, the Roman Empire. Familiar with it? They conquered a fairly huge chunk of Europe! And Africa! Oh, and they loved their short swords. They really loved their short swords.

Egypt: They had- (Massive giggle, someone yells "Khopesh!") I was going to say sickles but that works too.

Estonia: Oh. God. Okay, so I'm pretty proud of my ancestry, so I was looking up stuff about Estonia. And guess what they have? They're known for being very, very distructive. They actually have a plan in place so if anywhere invades, they bomb themselves and the place that invaded. You can get it but you certainly won't get out. And they'll take you with them. They were also very, very fond of two-handed weapons. So we've got these incredibly big people in full plate armor, absolutely covered in metal, and they're wielding giant sticks of steel. And guess what? The steel can cut. Nobody's invading Estonia anytime soon.