anonymous asked:

i didn't believe you before but now i get it, they're literally using sanvers for all the ratings and i am so angry

the cw found out the power of the gays last march and now instead of repenting of their transgressions they’ve made a deal w the devil and have come back to use us

best isaac run ive ever had. got 99 coins in one room on caves 1, game literally kept shitting out good items and good luck at me. didnt take a single devil or angel deal, went through the chest 2 times because of forget-me-now. finger + 3 dollar bill is broken, as is the combo of holy mantle + stop watch + celtic cross

this game is fucking fun

Copy of a written Pact with the Devil by Christoph Haizmann from 1669.

Pact with the Devil is a cultural motif, best exemplified by the legend of Faust and the figure of Mephistopheles, but elemental to many Christian folktales. According to traditional Christian belief in witchcraft, the pact is between a person and Satan or a lesser demon. The person offers his or her soul in exchange for diabolical favours. Those favours vary by the tale, but tend to include youth, knowledge, wealth, fame or power.
Written pact consists in the same forms of attracting the demon, but includes a written act, usually signed with the conjurer’s blood.
It was usually thought that the person who had made a pact also promised the demon to kill children or consecrate them to the Devil at the moment of birth (many midwives were accused of this, due to the number of children who died at birth in the Middle Ages and Renaissance), take part in Sabbaths, have sexual relations with demons, and sometimes engender children from a succubus, or an incubus in the case of women.


Robert Johnson and His Deal with the Devil

Robert Johnson, or at least the mythical version of him, is pervasive in American pop culture. He is considered a “Faustian” character, which essentially means the story surrounding him involves making a deal with Mephistopheles (a demon) or Satan himself. Deals like these typically were said to take place at crossroads, often seen as a metaphorical or actual liminal space, a place where change happens.

The legend goes that Johnson fell distraught after his first wife died in childbirth and he turned to his love of music to cope but he was horrible at the guitar with an unpleasant voice. Johnson was said to have disappeared for a length of time and then returned with great musical skill and a wonderful, mournful singing voice. At a crossroads, marked with the three guitar statue (above), Johnson supposedly met a man who gave him these abilities–in return for his soul. People point to some of his songs like “Cross Road Blues” and “Hell Hound on My Trail” as evidence that he had made the deal with the devil and the hellhounds were there to collect.

Johnson only recorded three records and died at the age of 27 in 1938 due to “mysterious” stomach pains. Of course, the legend would have us believe that the Devil had come to collect his dues. Most people, however, believe that he was poisoned (one way or another) due to flirting with or having an affair with a married woman. Either way, he died very young after putting out only a little bit of music and had only a couple of photos ever taken of him. He’s a figure shrouded in mystery due to how little is known about him but he lives on in our collective imagination, still recognized as the King of the Delta Blues.


A Deal With the Devil

On her way home from work, my wife was hit and killed by a drunk driver.

Night after night I prayed, no, I begged God to bring her back. Every night I dreamt of her returning to me, and every morning I woke alone.

One night the dream had changed. I was approached by a man in a pristine suit. “I can bring her back to you, but it will cost you.” he said.

“Please! I’ll do anything!” I pleaded

“What would you say you’re most afraid of?” he asked with a smirk. I thought hard about it briefly before responding “Burning to death”.

“Here’s my offer: I will return your wife to you, but only if you live out your greatest fear.”

“Yes! I’ll do it! I’ll burn!”, and with that I awoke in my bed, next to my beautiful bride.

I couldn’t believe it, but there she was, fast asleep, and breathing deep. I woke her with a passionate kiss and after several minutes she asked what had gotten into me. I could only respond by telling her how much I loved her.

I knew I still had a price to pay, but I didn’t care.

That evening there was a knock at my door. As soon as I saw the officer, I knew the mistake I had made. I never promised to burn, I promised to live out my worst fear.

“Sir, I’m afraid your wife’s been in an accident.”


                                           no one ever ‘sells’ the Devil their soul.

                      the moment you consider it;
                      the moment that tempting thought
                      courses through your m i n d——

                                                      he already owns you.

Copy of a written deal Christoph Haizmann made with the Devil (1699)

Christoph Haizmann, a poor painter, claimed to have sold his soul to the devil. He claimed to have made two pacts with the devil, one in ink and one in blood. He was to be his bounden son for nine years; after that time, Haizmann’s body and soul were to belong to the devil.

Haizmann claimed to have also suffered from demonical neurosis. His case was studied by Sigmund Freud and Gaston Vandendriessche. 

Caffeine Challenge #6

Whoo, good job everyone! That was a fun challenge :) You can read all past challenges and today’s HERE on this doc! It also has other’s who participated.

Here’s also mine below!

[END TIME lol I actually finished a contained short story for once!]

You sign the contract in crayon and pray that you haven’t already made a mess of things. The demon in front of you doesn’t see anything amiss, doesn’t question your choice of writing implements, doesn’t do anything but what she’s been doing for the past hour; smiling.

“There we go,” she coos and pets your hair like a mother would. “Easy, easy and so much time life, darling. You made a good deal.”

“…Thanks,” you say, trying not to lean into her touch. It’s been weeks since anyone but a nurse has touched you, even longer since anyone has touched you with something approaching the amount of affection this demon is showing you.

It’s a lie, you think, staring down at your hands. They’re thin and brushed with purple and blue, your skin nearly translucent under the weight of your medications. Your fingers knot in your flimsy hospital gown.

“Take care, kid,” the demon says and brings the contract to her lips. She kisses the crackling paper and smiles wickedly at you. “I’ll be seeing you soon enough.”

She disappears in smoke and fire, a vortex of light and sound in the sterile hospital room that sends all the machines hooked up to you shrieking. She takes with her the sense of peace she’d brought, probably something artificial too.

You sigh and begin to pull the IVs and patches from your body.

“Stop!” Nurse Blanchett rushes into your room, eyes wide. She’s wearing pastel pink scrubs today, the brightest color in the hospital. She grabs your wrist as you go for the heart monitor, pinning it to your side. “Lavina, you can’t pull the–”

She breaks off as, slowly, you lift your arms, forcing hers up. You’re strong, so much stronger than her, and she loses the concern in her eyes to fear.

“I’m checking out,” you say and she lets go, stepping back from you. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, your bare feet still thin, still sickly, but filled with so much strength that your knees don’t buckle when you stand. “Goodbye, Nurse Blanchett.”

You don’t have any normal clothes at the hospital, but that’s fine. You need to go shopping before your final destination anyway.

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