CARMELA VISITING FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI (PART 2) MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS: (PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES
&
DEMON SPIRITS
(PTSD DREAMS)
CREATED
BY
J. BECK
2026
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
PART 2
CARMELA VISITING
FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI
(PTSD DREAMS)
"For We Wrestle Not
Against Flesh & Blood
But
Against Principalities
Against Powers
Against
The Rulers of the Darkness
Of this World
&
Against
Spiritual Wickedness
In High Places"
(EPHESIANS 6:12)
ENDING OF
PART 1:
Asmodeus manifested—only briefly, yet long enough to sear himself into their mortal senses.
He appeared suspended above the altar, a towering figure of obsidian skin and molten gold eyes, vast leathery wings half-unfurled like living darkness.
Curved horns swept back from a face of aristocratic cruelty, lips curled in a knowing, amused smile that revealed sharp ivory fangs.
His body was sculpted perfection—broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, every muscle defined as though carved by a master who delighted in temptation itself.
A faint shimmer of heat rippled around him, carrying the scent of smoldering myrrh and something far more primal.
He was naked save for chains of black gold that looped loosely around his hips and thighs, links glowing faintly as though forged in hellfire.
Between his legs hung the unmistakable evidence of his dominion over lust—heavy, proud, and unashamed.
Father Ozario froze mid-motion, still kneeling, chest heaving, cum cooling on his spent cock.
Sister Yessi and Carmela paused in their writhing on the stone floor, faces glazed and glistening, lips still connected by a thin strand of shared saliva and seed.
All three looked up, transfixed, as the demon’s gaze swept over them like a lover’s caress and a predator’s claim.
Carmela’s breath hitched, her sharp nails digging into Yessi’s thigh. A slow, wicked smile spread across her smeared lips.
“THERE YOU ARE!”
She whispered, voice husky with reverence and hunger.
“My Beautiful Prince.”
CARMELA VISITING
FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI
PART
2
Asmodeus’s golden eyes fixed on her, amusement deepening. His voice rolled through the chapel like velvet thunder, felt as much as heard, bypassing ears to stroke directly against soul and flesh.
“Little Sinner,” he purred, the words laced with dark honey. “You have done well. This holy place reeks of devotion turned deliciously inside out.”
His gaze shifted to Father Ozario, who trembled violently, crucifix clutched in white-knuckled fingers.
“And you, Shepherd… How sweet your fall tastes. Your vows are ash on my tongue.”
Finally, he regarded Sister Yessi—sweet, corrupted Yessi—whose habit hung in tatters around her waist, breasts heaving, thighs slick.
The demon’s smile widened, tender and cruel. “My newest bride. You wear surrender so prettily.”
He raised one clawed hand, and the air shimmered. Invisible force brushed over their bodies like phantom fingers—teasing nipples, tracing throats, sliding between slick folds. All three gasped in unison, hips jerking involuntarily as fresh arousal flared despite their exhaustion.
Then Asmodeus leaned forward, wings spreading wider, casting the entire chapel in deeper shadow. For a moment his face was inches from Carmela’s, close enough that she could feel the impossible heat radiating from him.
“This is only the beginning,”
He whispered, breath scented with spice and damnation.
“I will return to claim what is mine… when you are ripe with need once more.”
With that, he dissolved—shadows unraveling, heat dissipating, presence withdrawing as swiftly as it had come. The candles flared back to normal height.
The scent of myrrh lingered, along with a faint echo of dark laughter that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Carmela collapsed back against Yessi with a shuddering laugh, pulling the nun into another deep, possessive kiss.
Father Ozario remained on his knees, staring at the empty space above the altar, crucifix dangling forgotten from his hand.
The chapel was silent once more—save for the soft, wet sounds of two women tasting the lingering blessing of their demonic patron, and the ragged breathing of a priest who now knew exactly which master he truly served.
Sister Yessi slipped out of St. Stephen’s Chapel just before dawn, her torn habit clutched tightly around her trembling body.
The cold night air of the convent cloister bit at her exposed skin, but it did nothing to cool the fever Asmodeus had kindled in her blood.
Her thighs were still slick, her face faintly sticky with the remnants of the night’s blasphemy. She moved quickly through the shadowed corridors of the convent, bare feet silent on the stone, desperate to reach the safety of her small chamber before any of the other sisters stirred.
She closed the heavy oak door behind her with a soft click, leaning against it as though it could hold back what now pursued her.
The cell was austere: a narrow cot, a wooden prie-dieu, a single crucifix on the whitewashed wall, and a tiny window high above that let in the first pale hint of morning. A faint scent of beeswax and old incense lingered, soon to be overpowered.
The candles on her small prayer table guttered without wind.
Then the temperature rose—slowly, sensuously—like stepping into a bath drawn too hot. The crucifix on the wall seemed to dim, as though light itself recoiled.
Asmodeus manifested again, this time fully in the confines of her private chamber, the space bending subtly to accommodate his towering form.
His obsidian skin drank in the weak dawn light, wings folded tight against his back so that the tips brushed the low ceiling.
Golden eyes fixed on her with predatory tenderness, lips curved in that same amused, devastating smile.
Sister Yessi’s breath caught. She pressed harder against the door, habit slipping from one shoulder to reveal the marks Carmela’s nails and the priest’s mouth had left on her pale skin.
“My Sweet Bride”
Asmodeus murmured, voice a low thrum that vibrated through the stone floor and into her bones. He did not approach yet—only stood at the foot of her cot, letting the heat of his presence stroke her like invisible hands.
“You fled so quickly. Did you truly think distance would protect you from what you invited into your soul?”
Yessi’s knees weakened. She slid down the door until she sat on the cold floor, habit pooling around her hips, exposing the lace tops of the stockings she had not yet removed. Her voice came out small, trembling.
“This… this was a mistake. A moment of weakness. I will confess—do penance—”
Asmodeus laughed softly, the sound rich and dark, like wine poured over velvet. He took one slow step forward, chains at his hips chiming faintly.
“Penance?” He crouched before her, bringing his face level with hers, close enough that she could feel the impossible warmth radiating from his skin and smell the intoxicating spice of his breath.
“Your confession has already been heard, little one. And accepted.”
A clawed finger—gentle, precise—traced the line of her jaw, tilting her chin up. Her lips parted on a helpless gasp as that same claw trailed down her throat, over the frantic beat of her pulse, to the edge of her torn habit.
With a flick, the remaining ties gave way. The black-and-white fabric fell open completely, baring her breasts, the curve of her waist, the trembling softness of her belly.
“You are mine now,” he whispered, golden eyes glowing brighter as they roamed over her.
“And I am a generous prince. I will not take what is not freely given… though we both know how freely you will give it.”
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Stand, sweet Yessi. Go to your little bed. Show me how a bride of Christ prepares to receive her true lord.”
Her body obeyed before her mind could protest. She rose on shaky legs, habit slipping from her arms entirely, leaving her in only the remnants of stockings and the faint sheen of dried sin on her skin.
She backed toward the cot until her knees hit the edge and she sank down onto the thin mattress.
Asmodeus followed, moving with liquid grace. He knelt between her thighs, wings spreading just enough to cast the chamber in deeper shadow.
Large hands—hot, impossibly strong yet careful—parted her knees wider. His tongue, long and forked at the tip, traced a slow path up the inside of one trembling thigh, tasting the mingled evidence of the night’s earlier debauchery.
Yessi’s head fell back against the wall with a soft cry, fingers clutching the coarse blanket. Every touch ignited fresh fire; every exhale of his breath against her skin drew whimpers from her throat.
When his mouth finally settled over her most sensitive flesh, she arched off the cot, a broken prayer on her lips that was no longer addressed to heaven.
Above them, unnoticed, the crucifix on the wall turned slowly face-down, as though unable to bear witness.
In the quiet of the convent, while the other sisters began to stir for Matins, Sister Yessi surrendered completely to the seduction of her demonic prince—moans muffled against her own fist, body writhing under the expert, relentless pleasure of Asmodeus’s tongue, fingers, and whispered promises of eternal, exquisite ruin.
By the time the first bell rang for morning prayer, Yessi lay spent and trembling in his arms, marked inside and out, her soul deliciously, irrevocably claimed. Asmodeus pressed one last burning kiss to her swollen lips, wings enfolding her like a lover’s embrace.
“Sleep now, my Bride,”
He murmured against her mouth.
“Dream of me. For I will return every night…
Until you beg me never to leave.”
Then he was gone—vanished like smoke—leaving only the lingering scent of myrrh and the faint glow of golden eyes burned behind her closed lids.
Sister Yessi curled into the wrecked sheets, a secret smile curving her lips, already aching for nightfall.
Sister Yessi lay sprawled across her narrow cot, chest heaving, thighs trembling from the aftershocks of Asmodeus’s merciless tongue.
The faint dawn light filtering through the high window painted her sweat-slicked skin in pale gold, but the demon’s heat still radiated from her core, keeping her open, aching, ready.
Asmodeus loomed over her, wings half-spread, casting the tiny chamber in eclipse. His clawed hand stroked lazily up her inner thigh, smearing the glistening evidence of her surrender. Golden eyes burned into hers, ancient and ravenous.
“Say it again, Little Bride”
He commanded, voice a low growl that vibrated straight through her clit.
“Tell me who owns this dripping cunt now.”
Yessi whimpered, hips lifting helplessly toward his touch.
"Y-you… my lord Asmodeus… you own me.”
A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. He dragged one sharp claw along her swollen folds—never breaking skin, just enough pressure to make her cry out—before circling her clit with deliberate cruelty.
“Louder. Let the heavens hear how eagerly their virgin bride betrays them.”
“You!” she gasped, voice cracking. “Asmodeus owns my cunt—my body—my soul—please—”
“Please what, sweet whore?” He leaned down, forked tongue flicking out to taste the tears of overwhelmed pleasure on her cheek.
“Please stop? Or please ruin me more?”
“Ruin me,” she sobbed, fingers clawing at the sheets. “Please, my prince, ruin me until I forget His name.”
His smile was slow, viciously tender. He pressed two thick fingers into her without warning, curling them hard against that spot that made her vision white out.
“Good girl. But I want more than forgetting. I want you to curse Him while you come on my fingers.”
He pumped slowly, deliberately, thumb grinding against her clit in tight circles.
“Say it. Tell your former God exactly where He can go while my hand fucks the sanctity out of you.”
Yessi’s back arched off the cot, a broken wail tearing from her throat. “G-go to Hell—oh fuck—go to Hell, Jesus—Asmodeus is my god now—my master—my everything—!”
The demon’s wings flared wide in triumph, shadows swallowing the crucifix on the wall entirely. He added a third finger, stretching her ruthlessly, pace turning brutal.
“That’s it. Scream my Name when you shatter, little nun. Let every sister in this convent hear who their purest flower truly worships.”
He twisted his fingers, pressed his thumb harder, and leaned close enough that his next words branded themselves into her soul.
“When I finally sheath my cock inside you, bride, you will beg me to breed you. You will beg me to flood your holy womb with demon seed until you swell with my heir. And you will thank me—on your knees, mouth full of my spend—for dragging you into eternal, exquisite damnation.”
Yessi came with a scream that rattled the tiny window—“Asmodeus! My lord—my only god—yes—!”—her body convulsing around his fingers, gushing slick heat over his palm as waves of blasphemous ecstasy tore through her.
He did not stop. He kept fucking her through it, drawing out every spasm, milking every drop of devotion from her trembling form until she was a sobbing, boneless mess beneath him.
Only then did he withdraw his hand, bringing his soaked fingers to her lips. She sucked them clean without hesitation, eyes locked on his, moaning at the taste of her own surrender.
“Perfect,” he purred, stroking her hair with surprising gentleness. “Sleep now, my sweet corrupted thing. Dream of the night I claim you fully—cock, seed, and soul. Dream of how loudly you’ll renounce Heaven when I’m buried to the hilt inside you.”
He pressed a burning kiss to her forehead, marking her with heat that would linger all day beneath her fresh habit.
“And when the bell rings for Vespers,” he whispered against her skin, “you will touch yourself in the choir stall thinking of me. You will come silently, biting your lip until it bleeds, while singing hymns to a god who no longer listens.”
Then he was gone—vanished into sulfur-scented smoke—leaving Sister Yessi curled around the phantom ache of his touch, lips still moving in silent, fervent prayer to her new and only master.
Carmela bolted upright in her bed, sheets tangled around her sweat-drenched body, heart hammering so violently she thought it might crack a rib.
The knife was still clenched in her fist—an antique silver letter opener she’d grabbed from the nightstand in her sleep. Moonlight sliced through the half-open blinds of her bedroom window, painting sharp silver bars across the floor.
In the dream, she had burst through the convent chamber door like a fury, short dark blue dress torn at the hem, black nylons laddered from the frantic run through the cloister.
Sister Yessi lay naked and writhing on the cot, legs spread wide, pale skin flushed and marked by claw and mouth. Asmodeus towered over her, obsidian wings enfolding the nun like a lover, his thick cock buried deep as Yessi sobbed his name in broken, worshipful litanies.
Carmela had heard it all through the thin oak door—every wet sound, every blasphemous moan, every velvet-rough command from the demon’s tongue. Jealousy had detonated inside her like holy fire turned profane.
How dare that little novice whore steal what was hers? How dare Asmodeus choose fresh meat when Carmela had been the one to summon him, to feed him, to damn herself first?
She had charged in screaming, letter opener raised high over her head, eyes fixed on Yessi’s exposed throat.
Asmodeus had turned his head slowly, golden eyes now burning blood-red, lips split in a wide, fanged grin. His voice had slithered into her mind like smoke and silk.
“Do it, my sweet jealous queenShoHe had crooned, hips still rolling lazily into the whimpering nun.
“DO IT—DO IT—spill her blood on these sacred sheets. Paint my altar red with her. Show me how fiercely you love me. Show me you’ll kill for me.”
Yessi had looked up then, eyes glazed with helpless ecstasy, lips parted in a moan—and for a split second Carmela had seen her own face reflected in the nun’s gaze. The same hunger. The same surrender.
She had raised the blade higher, muscles coiled—
And met Asmodeus’s red stare directly.
He winked.
The world shattered.
Now, awake, Carmela dropped the letter opener with a clatter. It spun across the hardwood floor and came to rest against her discarded blue heel from the night before.
She pressed both hands to her face, nails digging into her cheeks as she fought to steady her breathing.
Tomorrow—today, actually, in less than eight hours—she had her first appointment at St. Lucy’s rectory.
Father Ozario himself would conduct the preliminary screening to determine whether Carmela Soprano was a legitimate candidate for exorcism.
The diocese required protocol: a full physical examination by the church-approved physician to rule out medical or psychiatric causes; a psychoanalysis session with the staff psychologist; then three consecutive private interviews with Father Ozario over the next three days.
Only after that would he decide if the demons of lust that tormented her—day and night, waking and sleeping—were real infernal oppression… or something the Church could not touch.
Carmela laughed once, a sharp, bitter sound in the dark room. She could still feel phantom heat between her thighs, still taste wine and wax and sin on her tongue. She could still hear Asmodeus’s velvet taunt echoing in her skull.
"Do it. Do it."
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting cold floor. The clock on the nightstand glowed 4:47 AM.
In a few hours she would shower, dress modestly (long skirt, high neckline, no lace), and present herself as a penitent woman seeking deliverance.
But deep in her chest, jealousy coiled like a living thing, hissing at the thought of Father Ozario’s hands—clinical, priestly—examining her body for signs of possession.
Wondering if he would notice the faint bruises on her inner thighs. Wondering if his voice would crack when she described, in calm and careful detail, exactly what the demon made her feel.
Wondering if Asmodeus would be watching.
Carmela stood, walked to the window, and stared out at the quiet suburban street. Somewhere in the distance, early morning birds began to sing.
She touched her lips, still swollen from dreams she could never confess fully.
“Let him try to cast you out,” she whispered to the darkness, unsure whether she was speaking to the demon or to herself.
A soft, amused breath—not her own—stirred the hair at the nape of her neck.
Carmela smiled, slow and dangerous, into the glass.
Tomorrow, the real ritual would begin.
Carmela’s nightmare deepened, the convent corridors stretching endlessly before her, cold stone under her bare feet, the air thick with incense and the unmistakable musk of sex.
Each torch along the wall flickered with unnatural crimson flame, painting her skin in bloodlight as she ran, heart pounding, the antique silver letter opener clenched so tightly in her fist that its ornate handle bit into her palm.
She could hear them through every closed door she passed—Yessi’s broken, keening moans rising in pitch, Asmodeus’s low, velvet growls answering her like a dark liturgy. The sounds grew louder, wetter, more desperate the closer Carmela came to the novice’s chamber.
Her thighs brushed together with every stride, the soaked black thong from the chapel still clinging to her, slick with her own unrelenting arousal and the evidence of earlier sins.
The short dark blue dress rode up higher and higher as she ran, until cool air kissed the bare curves of her ass.
When she finally flung open the chamber door, the scene inside punched the breath from her lungs.
Sister Yessi was on all fours atop the narrow cot, habit shredded and hanging in useless ribbons around her waist, pale back arched in perfect submission.
Her small breasts swayed beneath her with every deep, claiming thrust from behind. Asmodeus loomed over her, wings fully spread now, casting the entire room in writhing shadow.
His obsidian skin gleamed with sweat, every muscle flexing as he drove into her with slow, punishing strokes—thick, ridged demonic cock stretching the nun’s pink, glistening folds obscenely wide.
Each withdrawal revealed how thoroughly she was being ruined, how eagerly her body gripped him, reluctant to let him go even for a second.
Yessi’s face was turned toward the door, eyes rolled back, mouth open in a constant stream of shattered pleas. “My lord—my prince—deeper—please—breed me—ruin me for Him forever—” Saliva dripped from her swollen lips onto the sheets, mixing with tears of overwhelming ecstasy.
Asmodeus’s clawed hands gripped the nun’s hips hard enough to leave livid marks, pulling her back onto him with every forward surge.
His head was thrown back in pleasure, horns catching the candlelight, but the moment Carmela burst in he lowered his gaze—those molten gold eyes shifting instantly to burning, predatory red—and fixed them on her.
A slow, fanged smile spread across his beautiful, terrible face.
Carmela’s rage flared white-hot, jealousy a living blade in her chest. She raised the letter opener high over her head, lungs burning with a scream that never quite left her throat.
Asmodeus never stopped fucking Yessi. If anything, his pace grew deliberately cruel—long, dragging withdrawals followed by sudden, brutal thrusts that forced high, keening cries from the nun’s throat and made her small body jolt forward on the cot.
“Do it, my jealous queen,” he purred, voice rolling through the chamber like thunder wrapped in silk. His gaze bored into Carmela’s, red eyes glowing brighter with every word:
“DO IT. Plunge that pretty silver into her faithless little heart while I’m still buried inside her. Let her last breath be my name on her tongue and her blood hot on your hands.”
He leaned forward over Yessi’s back, one clawed hand sliding up to wrap possessively around the nun’s throat, tilting her head back so Carmela could see the blissful surrender written across her tear-streaked face.
The other hand snaked beneath Yessi’s body, fingers finding her clit and rubbing in tight, merciless circles.
Yessi sobbed his name louder, body shaking violently as another orgasm began to build under his expert torment. “Asmodeus—master—yes—!”
Carmela took one step forward, then another, blade trembling in her grip. The scent of their coupling—musky, dark, divine—filled her lungs until she felt drunk on it.
Her nipples strained painfully against the thin fabric of her dress, her clit throbbing in time with every wet slap of the demon’s hips against Yessi’s ass.
Asmodeus’s voice dropped to an intimate, coaxing whisper meant only for her, even as he drove harder into the writhing nun.
“Show me how much you want me all to yourself, Carmela. Kill her while she comes on my cock. Paint me with her. Prove you’re worthy to be my only queen.”
Carmela raised the knife higher, muscles coiled, tears of furious desire burning tracks down her cheeks.
She met his red gaze fully.
He winked, tongue flicking out to taste the air as if savoring her rage.
And the world snapped.
Carmela jerked awake with a strangled gasp, the letter opener clattering to the floor. Her body was bowed off the mattress, thighs clenched tight, panties soaked through.
The dream-orgasm still rippled through her in cruel aftershocks, leaving her trembling and empty and aching.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes until sparks bloomed, trying to erase the image of Asmodeus’s red eyes smiling at her, promising that jealousy itself was just another leash he held.
In a few hours she would sit across from Father Ozario in the rectory, legs modestly crossed, voice steady as she described her
“Torments.”
But the dream lingered like smoke in her lungs, and deep in the dark behind her eyes, Asmodeus’s velvet command echoed:
"Do it. Do it."
Carmela smiled into the shadows, slow and dangerous, wondering just how far she would go to keep her prince’s attention focused only on her.
. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS
(PTSD DREAMS)
FURTHER
REFERENCES:
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
CARMELA ENCOUNTERS
WOLF DEMON AAMON
VISITING CHRIST CRUCIFIX
(PICTORIAL NARRATIVE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-carmela.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"PAN"
GREEK GOAT GOD
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-pan-greek.html?m=1
"The Great God Pan is not Dead."
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTYO"
MATTY ORLANDO
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
MORE PAN
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/matilda-aka-mattyo-matty-orlando.html?m=1
(OUT IN THE WOODS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
SATAN & ANTICHRIST
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-satan.html?m=1
(Discussing Revelation
& The End of Time)
MATILDA
AKA
MATTY ORLANDO
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
DEVIL & BLACK PULLET
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-meeting.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS:
ASTAROTH & ASMODEUS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demons-astaroth-asmodeus-ptsd.html?m=1
WITH
EXTRAORDINARY
ALL NEW AI GENERATED IMAGES
USING WORD PROMPTS
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
LILITH & ASTAROTH
ENCOUNTER
"SEVEN IS DIVINE"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-lilith.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
LOKI
&
THE MOTHER GODDESS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-loki.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
MOTHER GODDESS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-mother.html?m=1
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
URSALUPUS
ENCOUNTERS DEMON RAUM
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-ursalupus-ptsd.html?m=1
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
LILITH SUCCUBUS & INCUBUS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-lilith-succubus.html?m=1
FURTHER INTRODUCTIONS
OF DEMONIC DEITIES
LAMIA & JOHN KEATS
(PTSD DREAMS)
AN
INTRODUCTION
PART 2
FEMME DEITIES & DEMONESS’:
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/an-introduction-part-2-femme-deities.html?m=1
INTRODUCTIONS
DEMONS & FAMILIARS:
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/introductions-demons-familiars.html?m=1
THE MOTHER GODDESS
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-mother-goddess-visiting-madonna.html?m=1
ELECTRA
AKA: "ELLIE"
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
BALAAM THE FALSE PROPHET
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/electra-aka-ellie-meeting-demon-spirits.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
RETURNS TO VISIT MAMMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-returns-to.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO "
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS: MAMMON
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-meeting-demon.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO"
VISITING THE MADONNA
(& MEETING WOLF-DEMON AAMON)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-visiting.html?m=1
DEMONS
"LILITH & AAMON"
(MEADOW & JACKIE JR)
A SUPPLIMENT FOR
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/demons-lilith-aamon-meadow-jackie-jr.html?m=1
AN
ANALYSIS
OF
"THE UNHINGING CRUX"
(Meadow's Virgin Islands Confessions)
FROM
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS(TYS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/analysis-of-unhinging-crux-from-young.html?m=1
AN ANALYSIS &
PHOTO ALBUM OF MEADOW'S MANY FACES
W/CARMELA COMPARISON
FROM
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
APPENDIX II:
"Conspiracy of Crows"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/the-young-sopranos-appendix-ii.html?m=1
(The Ghost of Tony Soprano
Appears to Carmela)
A SUPPLIMENT
OF
"THE YOUNG SOPRANOS"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/read-young-sopranos-source.html?m=1
"MATILDA"
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL (1994)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-from-leon-professional-1994.html?m=1
MATILDA II
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-ii-from-leon-professional.html?m=1
"MATILDA" III
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-iii-from-leon-professional-1994.html?m=1
"MATILDA" IV
RESCUING BEETHOVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-iv-rescuing-beethoven.html?m=1
"MATILDA" V
MATTY ORLANDO
DATING "JOHNNY B. GOODE"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-v-dating-johnny-b-goode.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO"
VI
MAKE-UP PRACTICE SESSION
W/ JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vi-make-up.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
VII
MEMENTO MORI
(DRUNKEN DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vii-memento.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTY ORLANDO"
SUBWAY RAT DREAMS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-subway-rat.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
VII
MATTY ORLANDO'S
(Narrative)
"SECRET LIFE"
(W/ OUT JOHNNY B. GOODE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vii-matty.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
RESCUES BEETHOVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime.html?m=1
MORE
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
DATING
JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-dating-johnny-b.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
MEMENTO MORI
(ROMANCING THE DEAD)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-memento-mori.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
MAKE-UP PRACTICE SESSION
W/ JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-make-up-practice.html?m=1
"Johnny B. Goode"
(Live at the Fillmore East, NYC, NY - 1970) · Johnny Winter
https://youtu.be/gEayVWiJtLg?si=iePgaGvJVwQXTAmp
"MATTY ORLANDO"
INSPIRED
BY:
LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
(1994)
https://youtu.be/Pf0JW-cAFTs?si=-BMWviJ-Dham07HD
RAYMOND CURTO JR
DIMEO CRIME FAMILY
(FICTITIOUS CHARACTER WITH MS)
"Our Vision: A World Free of MS"
Delivering Breakthroughs to a Cure
Invested $1.1 billion into research since 1946
Please Consider
Donating to MS SOCIETY:
https://donate.nationalmssociety.org/pages/8528
CAITLYN (MOLTISANTI) SOPRANO
(FICTITIOUS CANCER SURVIVOR)
Please
Consider Donating:
ST JUDES
CHILDREN HOSPITAL
ALL
AI GENERATED IMAGES
CREATED BY USING
WORD PROMPTS
2026
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