MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS: LILITH VISITS SCAPEGOAT DEMON AZAZEL (PTSD DREAMS) AN EROTIC NARRATIVE
MEETING DEITIES
&
DEMON SPIRITS
(PTSD DREAMS)
CREATED
BY
J. BECK
2026
AN
EROTIC DEMONIC NARRATIVE
MEETING DEITIES
&
DEMON SPIRITS:
DEMONESS
LILITH
VISITS SCAPEGOAT DEMON
AZAZEL
(PTSD DREAMS)
DEMONESS
LILITH VISITS
SCAPEGOAT DEMON
AZAZEL
THE
PICTORIAL NARRATIVE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness_15.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
In the scorched expanse of the Judean wilderness, where jagged rocks clawed at the sky like the fingers of forgotten gods, the cursed demon Azazel wandered aimlessly, his form a grotesque fusion of man and beast. Once a mighty Watcher, a fallen angel who had dared to teach humanity the forbidden arts of war and vanity, he was now reduced to the Scapegoat Eternal—a hulking, goat-like abomination burdened with the sins of the Jews.
His body was twisted: muscular yet emaciated, covered in coarse, matted fur that reeked of sulfur and regret. Massive, curling horns sprouted from his brow, etched with ancient runes that pulsed with the weight of every transgression he carried—adultery, idolatry, murder, and the petty cruelties of mortal hearts. His eyes, glowing like embers in the twilight, reflected the endless parade of human failings dumped upon him during the Yom Kippur rites, year after year, as the high priests confessed the people's impurities over his head and banished him to this desolate void. Hooves clacked against the sun-baked earth, and from his back dangled spectral chains, invisible to the eye but heavy as the Creator's judgment, binding him to his role as the unwilling redeemer of disobedient children.
Azazel's wanderings were a torment of isolation, his mind a cacophony of stolen sins that whispered temptations he could no longer indulge. He was the instrument of atonement, a divine joke—a fallen one forced to purify the very race he had corrupted. But on this fateful dusk, as the sun bled red across the horizon, a shadow slithered across the dunes, sinuous and seductive. It was Lilith, the First Woman, the Night Hag, the Demoness of Defiance. She materialized from the swirling sands, her form a vision of unholy allure: porcelain skin kissed by moonlight, cascading waves of midnight-black hair that tangled like serpents in the hot wind, and eyes like polished obsidian, gleaming with ancient malice and insatiable hunger.
She wore a diaphanous robe of white silk threaded with gold, clinging to her voluptuous curves—full breasts heaving with each breath, hips swaying like a siren's call, and legs that promised both ecstasy and ruin. Gold jewelry adorned her: bracelets that jangled like chains of captivity, rings encrusted with rubies that dripped like blood, and earrings that whispered secrets of forgotten lovers. In one hand, she held a chalice of crimson wine, fermented from the grapes of Sodom, its aroma thick with forbidden fruit.
In the other, a cluster of black hive honeycombs, harvested from the infernal apiaries of Beelzebub, the Lord of Flies—dark, viscous combs oozing with honey that burned like liquid sin, sweet and corrupting.
Lilith approached with a predator's grace, her bare feet silent on the parched ground. Azazel halted, his goatish nostrils flaring at her scent—a heady mix of jasmine, brimstone, and arousal. She circled him slowly, her lips curling into a mocking smile, her tongue flicking out to taste the air.
"Oh, look at you, Azazel," she purred, her voice a velvet whip, laced with derision. "The mighty Watcher, reduced to a filthy goat, staggering under the weight of those pathetic Jewish sins. How the mighty have fallen—literally, into this shithole of a wilderness. Carrying their adulteries and idolatries like a pack mule. Pathetic. You're nothing but a divine janitor, sweeping up the Creator's messes."
Azazel's form shuddered, his muscular frame tensing beneath the fur, his erection stirring unbidden beneath the ragged loincloth that barely concealed his demonic manhood—thick, veined, and throbbing with the sins he bore. He tried to growl in defiance, but it came out as a bleat, humiliating and animalistic.
Lilith laughed, a sound like shattering glass, and pressed closer, her body brushing against his. She dipped a finger into the chalice of wine, trailing it along his sweat-slicked chest, tracing the contours of his skinny yet rippling muscles, down to the furred ridges of his abdomen.
"Drink, you cursed beast," she commanded, tilting the chalice to his lips. The wine spilled over his muzzle, tart and intoxicating, burning down his throat like liquid fire. It awakened memories of his glory days—teaching mortals the arts of metallurgy and cosmetics, seducing daughters of men, fathering giants. But Lilith's eyes bored into him, mocking.
"That's right, lap it up like the animal you are. This wine is from the vines I tended in Eden, before that spineless Adam cast me out. And you? You're just the Creator's tool, aren't you? A scapegoat for His disobedient brats. How does it feel, Azazel, to be the punchline in Yahweh's cosmic comedy? Teaching humans to sin, only to become their sin-bin?"
She pressed the black hive honeycombs to his mouth next, the dark honey dripping in thick, sticky rivulets. Azazel's tongue, rough and elongated in his goatish form, lapped at it greedily, the sweetness exploding on his palate— a forbidden nectar from Beelzebub's hives, infused with the essence of swarming flies and infernal pollens. It coursed through him like aphrodisiac venom, hardening his arousal to painful rigidity.
Lilith watched, her hand sliding lower, gripping his loincloth and yanking it aside, exposing him fully.
"Mmm, look at that," she sneered, her fingers wrapping around his throbbing shaft, stroking slowly, teasingly.
"All that wickedness bundled up in this pathetic cock. The sins of the Jews—every stolen glance, every broken commandment—pulsing through you.
You're damned, Azazel, a demon of sin, yet here you are, playing redeemer. How ironic. The Creator uses you to wash away His children's filth, like a holy toilet. Flush away the disobedience, you worthless goat."
As she degraded him, Lilith's seduction deepened. She pushed him down onto the rocky ground, the sins on his back manifesting as ethereal weights that pinned him, making him kneel before her like a supplicant.
Her robe parted, revealing the smooth, inviting mound between her thighs, glistening with her own demonic arousal. She straddled his face, grinding against his muzzle, forcing his tongue to delve into her depths.
"Lick, you instrument of atonement," she hissed, her hands tangling in his greasy horns, pulling him deeper.
"Taste the freedom you lost. I fled Eden, refused to submit, and became queen of the night. But you? You fell and became a slave to rituals. Rehearse your sins for me, Azazel—tell me how you taught them swords and shields, how you painted their whores' faces with antimony. And now, you're the one getting fucked by fate."
Azazel's voice rumbled, muffled against her flesh, recounting his transgressions in a haze of lust and shame: the descent with the Watchers, the unions with human women, the birth of Nephilim that shook the earth
Lilith moaned, her hips bucking, her insults flowing like the wine she poured over his body
"Yes, you damned fool. You corrupted them, and for what? To end up chained in Dudael, bound by Raphael's hands? But look at you now—my plaything in this wasteland. The Creator mocks you, using your back to carry His people's crap. You're not a leader of angels; you're a cosmic joke, redeeming the very disobedience you sparked."
She slid down his body, impaling herself on his rigid length, her walls clenching around him in a vise of infernal heat.
The encounter was raw, primal—her nails raking his furred chest, drawing black ichor that sizzled on the sand. She rode him with furious abandon, her breasts bouncing, gold jewelry clinking like bells of damnation.
The black honey smeared between them, sticky and sweet, amplifying every thrust.
"Take it, you wicked scum," she degraded, slapping his face, her tongue lashing out to lick the honey from his lips.
"Share my wine, my honey from Beelzebub's hives—it's more than you deserve. You're the demon of sin, yet you're Yahweh's bitch, atoning for His kids' tantrums. How does it feel to be so utterly used?"
Their bodies moved in a frenzy, the wilderness echoing with her mocking laughter and his guttural moans. Sins sloughed off him in wisps of dark smoke, drawn into her like a vortex, fueling her power.
She climaxed first, her body arching, a scream tearing from her throat that shattered nearby rocks—waves of ecstasy rippling through her, her essence flooding him.
Azazel followed, his release a torrent of cursed seed, mingled with the weight of absolved transgressions. But even in the afterglow, Lilith's degradation continued, her lips brushing his ear.
"Pathetic, Azazel. You'll wander again, reloaded with fresh sins come next Yom Kippur. An eternal instrument for the Creator's game. But remember this night—when Lilith made you her whore."
As she vanished into the shadows, leaving him spent and alone, the wilderness swallowed his bleats of shame, the sins already creeping back to burden him anew.
The aftermath lingered like smoke from a dying pyre. Azazel remained sprawled on the cracked earth, chest heaving, black ichor and honey smeared across his furred torso in obscene patterns.
His loins still twitched with aftershocks, the cursed seed he had spilled now seeping into the parched ground where nothing would ever grow again. The spectral chains of his atonement clinked faintly as he tried to rise—only for a bare foot to press firmly against the center of his chest, forcing him back down.
Lilith stood above him, robe hanging open like parted curtains on a profane stage. Her thighs glistened; strands of her own release mixed with his clung to the dark curls between her legs. She bent at the waist, letting her heavy breasts sway just out of reach of his muzzle, and snatched the half-empty chalice from where it had fallen. A single crimson droplet slid down the stem and fell onto his forehead, marking him like anointing oil in reverse.
“Still breathing, goat?” she drawled, voice thick with contemptuous amusement. “I thought I might have fucked the last spark of Watcher pride right out of you. Apparently not. Look at this—” She reached down, seized one of his curling horns, and yanked his head up so he was forced to stare at his own spent cock, still half-hard, twitching uselessly against his belly.
“Pathetic. You spill like a mortal schoolboy and yet you carry the weight of centuries of Jewish sin on your back. Tell me, Azazel—does it burn knowing every Yom Kippur goat they send out here is just another reminder that you’re nothing but Yahweh’s cosmic cum-rag?”
She laughed again, low and liquid, then straddled his waist without warning. This time she did not take him inside her. Instead she ground the slick heat of her cunt along the length of his shaft, coating him in their mingled fluids, sliding back and forth in slow, deliberate mockery.
“Feel that?” she hissed, rolling her hips so the swollen pearl of her clit dragged along his veined underside. “That’s what real power feels like. Not your sad little metallurgy lessons, not your pretty poisons disguised as cosmetics. Just wet, filthy friction. You taught them how to adorn themselves for seduction—now watch how a true seductress uses the lesson.”
She reached for the black honeycomb still clutched in her other hand. A thick rope of infernal honey stretched between her fingers as she broke off a piece and smeared it deliberately across his lips, then lower—across his throat, down the center line of his chest, circling each flat nipple until they stood painfully erect beneath the sticky gloss.
“Open,” she ordered.
Azazel’s jaws parted on instinct. She pushed the fragment of comb between his teeth, letting him taste the dark sweetness laced with Beelzebub’s buzzing malice. While he chewed, helpless beneath her, she dipped her fingers into the chalice again and painted his horns with wine—first one, then the other—until they gleamed wet and obscene under the dying light.
“You reek of atonement,” she murmured, leaning close enough that her nipples brushed his chest hair with every breath.
“But underneath it all you still stink of lust. Admit it. You loved watching the daughters of men paint their eyes and redden their lips with the knowledge you stole. You loved knowing every sword you forged would one day cleave flesh in jealousy and rage. And now—” She pinched one of his nipples hard enough to draw a sharp bleat from his throat. “—now you get to be the vessel for every sin those painted whores and sword-wielding husbands ever committed. How does it feel, Scapegoat? To be fucked by the very redemption you enable?”
Lilith slid lower, dragging her dripping sex along his abdomen, leaving a shining trail. When she reached his cock again she wrapped both hands around it—gold rings biting into sensitive skin—and began to pump with cruel, measured strokes.
“Look at me,” she snapped when his ember eyes tried to flutter shut.
He obeyed. Her face hovered inches above his, lips parted, tongue visible as she spoke.
“You were supposed to be a teacher. A bringer of forbidden light. Instead you became the darkness they dump at the edge of the world.
Every Yom Kippur the high priest lays hands on a goat’s head and whispers the people’s filth into its ear—and that filth travels straight to you. You swallow it. You carry it. You suffer for it. And the Creator smiles because His children get to start the year clean while His fallen son wallows in shit.”
She tightened her grip until he whimpered.
“But tonight,” she continued, voice dropping to a velvet snarl, “tonight I make you remember what it felt like before the chains. Before Dudael. Before Raphael’s ropes and the pit.”
Without warning she released him, shifted forward, and seated herself fully on his face again—this time facing his feet. Her ass pressed against his muzzle; the musky, honey-smeared cleft enveloped his nose and mouth. She rocked slowly, using his tongue as though it were nothing more than a living toy.
“Lick deeper, instrument,” she mocked. “Clean me of your own mess. Taste how thoroughly you failed. Every time your tongue flicks my asshole, remember that you’re still serving—only now you serve me instead of Him.”
Azazel’s hands—clawed, trembling—rose instinctively to grip her thighs. She slapped them away.
“No. Hands behind your back. You don’t get to touch royalty unless I say so.”
He complied, wrists crossing at the small of his back as though bound anew. Lilith rode his face with increasing urgency, grinding down until his nose was buried inside her, breath stolen, world reduced to heat, salt, and the faint metallic tang of old blood. When she came again it was violent—thighs clamping his skull, a guttural curse tearing from her throat as she flooded his mouth.
She lifted off only when the spasms subsided, leaving him gasping, muzzle slick and shining.
Then she turned, knelt between his spread thighs, and took his aching cock into her mouth—not to pleasure, but to torment. She sucked hard, hollowing her cheeks, letting her teeth graze just enough to make him buck. One hand cupped his heavy balls, rolling them, tugging; the other pressed two honey-smeared fingers into his ass without preamble, curling to stroke the spot inside that made his hips jerk helplessly.
“You’re going to come again,” she said around his flesh, voice muffled but commanding. “And when you do, you’re going to thank me for reminding you what a worthless, damned, obedient little goat you truly are.”
She worked him ruthlessly—mouth, fingers, tongue—until his body betrayed him once more. The second release tore through him with a broken cry, seed spurting across her tongue, her chin, the dusty ground. Lilith swallowed once, then pulled off, letting the rest drip from her lips onto his heaving stomach.
She rose gracefully, licking her mouth clean with slow swipes of her tongue.
“Until the next scapegoat arrives,” she said softly, almost tenderly. “Until they load you up again with fresh sins and send you staggering back into this wasteland.”
She bent, pressed a mocking kiss to his sweat-drenched brow—right between the horns still sticky with wine.
“Happy atonement, Azazel.”
And then she was gone—swallowed by shadow and wind—leaving him broken, spent, and already feeling the first ghostly weight of tomorrow’s transgressions settling onto his back like fresh chains.
The desert wind howled like a chorus of damned souls as Lilith circled Azazel once more, her bare soles grinding sand into the raw skin of his back where the spectral sins had already begun to re-knit themselves like fresh scabs. He lay prone now, face-down in the dirt, horns scraping uselessly against stone, cock still leaking the remnants of his second shameful release onto the cracked earth. Every breath he took tasted of her—of honey, wine, cunt, and contempt.
She crouched beside him, seized a fistful of his greasy black hair, and wrenched his head sideways so his ember eyes were forced to meet hers.
“Listen to me, you filthy fucking atonement sponge,” she began, voice low and venomous, each word dripping acid. “You think that little spurt you just gave me makes you a demon? You’re not even a proper fallen angel anymore. You’re a walking landfill. A divine porta-potty. Every Yom Kippur they trot out another bleating idiot goat, lay hands on its stupid head, and whisper every cock-sucking, back-stabbing, money-grubbing, child-fucking sin the Jews racked up that year—and poof, it all funnels straight into your worthless carcass. You swallow it. You digest it. You carry it like the cosmic shit-bag you are. And then Yahweh pats Himself on the back for how merciful He is. How clever. How fucking hygienic.”
She spat directly onto his muzzle; the glob landed between his eyes and slid slowly down the bridge of his nose.
“Open your mouth, Scapegoat. Wider. Show me the sewer you call a throat.”
Azazel’s jaws parted on a trembling exhale. Lilith scooped a fresh dollop of the black Beelzebub honeycomb with two fingers and shoved it deep, smearing the sticky darkness across his tongue until it coated the back of his throat.
“Swallow,” she ordered. “Taste what real infernal power feels like. Not your pathetic little sword-forging tricks or your eye-shadow recipes for whores. This is the concentrated rot of Hell’s own apiary. And you? You get to gargle it while you play redemption bitch for the Creator’s favorite pets.”
He choked it down, eyes watering, throat working convulsively. Lilith laughed—a sharp, cruel bark—and slapped his cheek hard enough to leave a red imprint beneath the fur.
“Look at your cock,” she sneered, reaching back to grip the still-sensitive organ and giving it a vicious twist. “Still dripping like a broken faucet after I used you twice. You came inside the Queen of Demons and you’re still hard, still leaking, still desperate. Why? Because deep down you know the truth: you’re nothing without someone else’s sins to define you. Without their filth riding your back, you’re just another disgraced Watcher with a hard-on and no purpose. But give you a fresh load of Jewish transgressions and suddenly you’re important again. Yahweh’s favorite toilet brush. Scrubbing His children clean while you marinate in their piss and cum and broken vows.”
She released his shaft only to grab both horns and yank his head up until his neck strained.
“Say it,” she hissed. “Say what you are.”
Azazel’s voice cracked, half-bleat, half-growl. “I… I’m the Scapegoat.”
“Louder, you gutless fuck.”
“I’m the Scapegoat!” he bellowed, the words tearing out of him like a confession ripped from bone.
“Not good enough.” She straddled his chest again, this time facing him, knees pinning his arms, cunt hovering just above his face so he could smell the evidence of his own disgrace still clinging to her folds. “Say the whole truth. Every disgusting detail.”
He shuddered beneath her. “I’m… I’m Yahweh’s toilet. His sin-bin. His eternal cum-rag. I teach mortals to sin… then I carry their sins… so they can be clean… while I rot.”
Lilith ground down suddenly, smothering his mouth and nose with her slick heat, cutting off his air.
“That’s right,” she purred, rocking in slow, punishing circles. “You’re not redeeming anyone. You’re just the garbage man. The janitor. The cosmic septic tank. Every adulterous thrust, every usurious coin, every false oath, every drop of innocent blood—they all end up right here—” She slapped her own cunt, the wet smack echoing across the rocks. “—and you drink it. You wallow in it. You get off on it, don’t you? Admit it. You love being their dumping ground. It’s the only thing that still makes your worthless dick twitch.”
Azazel’s muffled groan vibrated against her clit. His hips jerked helplessly, seeking friction against nothing but air.
She lifted just enough to let him gasp one ragged breath.
“Beg me,” she commanded. “Beg your better to use you again. Beg like the degraded little instrument you are.”
“Please…” His voice was raw, broken. “Please… use me… degrade me… remind me…”
Lilith smiled, all teeth and malice. “Good goat.”
She slid backward until her ass settled over his mouth again, then reached behind herself to grip his aching cock once more. This time she pumped him with brutal efficiency—no tease, no mercy—just mechanical, punishing strokes designed to wring one final, humiliating orgasm from his exhausted body.
“Come for me, Scapegoat,” she taunted, grinding her asshole against his frantically working tongue. “Come while I tell you exactly what you are: a fallen angel turned divine diaper. A teacher of sin turned eternal sufferer. A demon who dreamed of rebellion and ended up as Yahweh’s personal sewage line. Shoot your filthy load knowing that tomorrow—maybe tonight—they’ll send another goat, another wave of sins, and you’ll open wide like the obedient sewer you’ve become.”
His body seized. A strangled, animal cry tore from his throat as the third release ripped through him—thinner this time, weaker, but no less degrading. Ropes of cum splattered uselessly across his own belly and chest while Lilith rode out her own climax against his face, flooding his mouth until he nearly drowned in her.
When it was over she stood, wiped herself carelessly on his hair, and looked down at the ruined, trembling creature she’d reduced him to.
“Until the next load arrives,” she said softly, almost sweetly. “Keep that mouth open, Azazel. There’s always more shit coming your way.”
She vanished into the wind.
He remained where she left him—face streaked, body spent, horns sticky with wine and honey and shame—already feeling the first cold fingers of tomorrow’s transgressions curling around his spine like fresh chains.
Lilith didn’t leave.
She lingered in the half-light, shadow pooling around her like spilled ink, watching Azazel twitch and pant in the dirt. His body was a ruin—fur matted with drying honey, wine, cum, and her own slick; horns crusted; chest rising and falling in ragged, animal heaves. The third orgasm had left him hollowed, trembling, yet his cock still jerked feebly every few seconds, as though some last scrap of demonic pride refused to die.
She stepped closer again, slow, deliberate, the gold at her wrists and ankles chiming like tiny funeral bells. Crouching low, she hooked one long-nailed finger under his chin and forced his head up until the back of his skull pressed painfully against a rock.
“You’re still leaking,” she observed, voice silky with disgust. “After three loads you’re still oozing like a burst wineskin. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover it. Let’s try something more accurate: you’re a disgrace. A cosmic embarrassment. A walking, bleating, horned fuck-up who thought he could play god and ended up as Yahweh’s personal diaper service.”
She released his chin only to slap his face—open palm, sharp crack—then immediately gripped both horns again, twisting them in opposite directions until his neck corded and a low, broken bleat escaped him.
“Repeat after me, Scapegoat. Word for fucking word. And if you hesitate, I’ll shove that honeycomb so far down your throat you’ll taste flies for a century.”
Azazel’s ember eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with exhaustion and shame. His voice came out cracked, barely audible.
“I… I’m Yahweh’s diaper service.”
“Louder, you sniveling piece of shit.”
“I’m Yahweh’s diaper service!”
She yanked harder. “With feeling. Make me believe you know what a worthless cum-dump you are.”
“I’m Yahweh’s diaper service!” he roared, voice splintering on the last word, tears of black ichor streaking down his muzzle.
Lilith’s lips curled. “Good start. Now keep going. Tell the desert—and tell me—exactly what that means.”
He swallowed convulsively, throat working around the lingering taste of her and Beelzebub’s rot.
“It means… I’m the place they dump everything filthy. Every lie. Every betrayal. Every cock they shove where it doesn’t belong. Every child they hurt. Every coin they steal. Every prayer they fake. It all lands on me. I carry it. I… I soak it up so they don’t have to smell their own shit.”
She laughed, delighted and vicious. “And you get hard for it, don’t you? Say it.”
“I… I get hard for it.”
“Again. Louder. Convince me you’re proud of being their toilet.”
“I get hard for it!” The words tore out of him like something living being ripped free. His hips bucked involuntarily, cock slapping wetly against his own belly.
Lilith leaned in until her lips nearly brushed his ear, breath hot and sweet with venom.
“You taught them metallurgy so they could make better knives to stab each other. You taught them how to paint their faces so they could lie more prettily while they fucked their neighbors’ spouses. You handed them every tool to sin bigger, uglier, louder—and then, when the bill came due, the Creator looked at you and said, ‘Perfect. You can be the garbage can.’ And you said yes. You bent over and spread your cheeks for atonement like the obedient little bitch you are.”
She reached down, seized his balls in a cruel grip, and squeezed just enough to make his whole body arch.
“These?” she sneered, rolling them in her palm like overripe fruit. “These aren’t balls. They’re reservoirs. Storage tanks for other people’s cum-ups. Every time a Jew jerks off thinking about his neighbor’s wife, every time a merchant cheats a widow, every time a priest whispers sweet lies from the bimah—another drop gets funneled straight here. And you just sit in the desert, nuts swollen, cock dripping, waiting for the next delivery. You’re not fallen, Azazel. You’re plumbing. Divine fucking plumbing.”
She released him abruptly, letting his sac slap back against his thigh, then stood and planted one foot on his chest, pressing down until ribs creaked.
“Look up at me, sewer rat. Look at the woman who refused to kneel for Adam—and then look at yourself. Sprawled in your own mess, horns sticky, tongue still tasting my asshole, carrying centuries of other people’s sins on your back like the world’s saddest pack mule. You dreamed of rebellion. You got servitude. You wanted worship. You got waste management.”
She ground her heel into his sternum, twisting.
“Beg me to spit on you again. Beg your better to mark you the way you deserve.”
Azazel’s voice was barely a whisper now, shredded raw.
“Please… spit on me… mark me… remind me I’m nothing…”
Lilith gathered saliva, let it pool visibly on her tongue, then spat—a thick, deliberate glob—right between his eyes. It slid down the bridge of his nose, mixed with ichor, dripped onto his lips.
“Swallow that too,” she commanded.
He did. Tongue darting out like a whipped dog’s.
She crouched again, grabbed his jaw, forced his mouth open wide.
“One last time, loud enough for the stars to hear: what are you?”
Azazel’s broken roar echoed off the rocks.
“I’m Yahweh’s toilet! His sin sponge! His eternal cum-rag! His garbage can! His plumbing! I’m nothing! I’m waste! I’m the shit-heap that makes everyone else clean!”
Lilith smiled—slow, radiant, terrifying.
“That’s my good little Scapegoat.”
She rose, brushed nonexistent dust from her hands, and finally turned away.
“Next Yom Kippur,” she called over her shoulder, “when they send the fresh goat and the fresh load comes pouring in, I want you to remember this exact moment. Remember how small you felt. How used. How perfectly, irredeemably pathetic. And when your cock twitches again under all that new weight—know it’s because deep down, you love being exactly what I just made you admit you are.”
Her form dissolved into shadow and wind.
Azazel stayed where she left him—face streaked, body quivering, voice gone—already feeling the cold, familiar pressure of tomorrow’s sins sliding back into place like a yoke made of lead and shame.
Lilith did not vanish this time.
She remained crouched over him, one knee planted firmly between his spread thighs, her shredded white robes hanging in tatters from sweat-slick shoulders. The desert night had fully claimed the sky; stars burned cold and indifferent above the jagged teeth of Mount Azazel. Azazel’s black goat-head lolled to one side, horns scraping stone, breath coming in wet, shuddering rasps. His tanned, sinewy torso—still smeared with their mingled fluids—rose and fell like a bellows on the verge of breaking.
She leaned close again, fingers threading through the coarse black fur along his jaw until she could force those ember eyes to meet hers once more.
“No more games, Scapegoat,” she whispered, voice stripped of mockery for the first time, replaced by something darker—curiosity edged with hunger.
“You carry their sins. All of them. Not just the petty adulteries and petty thefts. The deep ones. The ones that rot the soul before the body even knows it’s dead. Show me.”
Azazel’s pupils contracted to pinpricks.
“I… cannot.”
“You will.” Her nails dug into the fur beneath his chin until black ichor welled. “You’re the forerunner, aren’t you? The shadow cast before the true lamb arrives.
The goat of God, they call you in their drunken hymns—except you’re not the Lamb. You’re the anti-lamb. The one who takes away the sins of the world without ever being cleansed himself. No nails through your palms, no crown of thorns, no resurrection dawn. Just endless burden. Endless cross. No mercy. No grace. Only weight.”
She pressed her palm flat against the center of his chest, right over the place where a human heart would beat.
“Open it. Let me see the black inky abyss moored inside you. Let me taste what it means to be the eternal dumping ground while the Christ child is still a promise in some virgin’s womb.”
Azazel’s whole body shuddered. A low, animal sound rose from his throat—not a bleat this time, but something closer to a death-rattle. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted one clawed hand and placed it over hers, pressing her palm harder against his sternum.
The air between them thickened, grew cold despite the lingering desert heat. A low hum began—deep, subterranean, like stones grinding together in the belly of the earth.
Then the skin beneath her hand… parted.
Not with blood or flesh, but with a slow, liquid unraveling. Black ink—not metaphorical, not poetic—actually welled up from the fissure that opened in his chest. It was thicker than oil, colder than the void between stars, and it moved with sluggish, sentient purpose. Tendrils of it curled upward, questing toward her fingers like blind worms seeking warmth.
Lilith did not pull away.
She leaned in until her lips nearly brushed the wound.
“Show me,” she breathed.
The abyss answered.
Visions poured into her—not as images in her mind, but as physical sensation, as though someone had cracked open her skull and poured the sins directly onto the raw surface of her brain.
She saw every lash of the whip that would one day score the back of the coming Lamb—felt the leather bite her own skin in proxy.
She tasted every lie ever told in the name of the coming kingdom, bitter as gall on her tongue.
She smelled the smoke of every altar defiled, the copper reek of every innocent life spilled in ignorance or malice.
She heard the collective sob of a people who would reject their own promised one, generation after generation, piling guilt upon guilt until it became geological.
And beneath it all—the endless, patient, merciless weight of substitution.
No forgiveness for the substitute.
No Easter morning for the goat.
Only the cross borne in silence, year after year, sin after sin, until the true Lamb could arrive and claim the credit.
The black ink rose higher, lapping at her wrist, then her forearm. It was freezing. It burned. It whispered her own ancient rebellions back to her—Eden, the refusal to kneel, the centuries of night-haunting—and made them feel small, childish, almost quaint compared to this eternal machinery of vicarious suffering.
Lilith’s breath hitched.
Her eyes widened, pupils swallowing the whites.
The ink reached her elbow, then her shoulder. It seeped beneath the tattered silk of her robe, staining the white to deepest midnight. Her body began to tremble—not with pleasure, not with rage, but with something far more dangerous: recognition.
She had mocked him for being the toilet, the diaper, the plumbing.
Now she understood the scale.
This was not degradation for sport.
This was cosmic engineering.
A deliberate wound kept open for millennia so that one day a single, perfect sacrifice could close it forever—and the one currently bleeding black would receive nothing. No acknowledgment. No rest. Only the next load. And the next. Forever, until the calendar flipped and the Lamb stepped forward.
A sound escaped her—a single, choked gasp.
Her free hand flew to her own chest as though to stop her heart from imitating his fissure.
The black tendrils curled around her throat like a lover’s fingers, gentle, inexorable.
Her knees buckled.
She collapsed across his chest, forehead pressed to the still-open wound, black ink now painting her lips, her cheeks, her disheveled hair. Her voluptuous form—once an instrument of domination—now lay limp, shuddering, overwhelmed.
Her eyes rolled back.
A final, shuddering breath left her.
Then silence.
Azazel did not move to comfort her, did not gloat, did not close the fissure.
He simply lay beneath her, horns scraping stone, chest rising and falling in slow, ancient rhythm, the abyss still leaking quietly into the night.
The stars watched.
Somewhere far off, in a stable that did not yet exist, a child not yet conceived waited to inherit the credit for a burden that would never truly belong to him.
Lilith remained unconscious across the Scapegoat’s chest—black-stained, silent, finally small—while the desert wind carried away the last echoes of her laughter.
Lilith awoke to the sensation of drowning without water.
The inky abyss had not released her. It had only shifted her deeper, folding her consciousness into its viscous heart like a letter sealed in black wax. She floated—weightless yet crushed—suspended in a sea of crude, dripping tar that moved with the slow pulse of a vast, diseased organ. The liquid was warm, almost body-temperature, and it clung to her skin like a second, living epidermis. Every breath she drew pulled more of it into her lungs, not suffocating her but filling her until she felt herself becoming part of the medium.
Chains materialized first as sensation rather than sight: cold, crude iron links, heavy with rust and something fouler—congealed sin that dripped in slow, tarry ropes from every weld and ring. They wrapped her torso in cruel bands, crossing between her breasts, cinching beneath them until the shredded white silk of her robe tore further, exposing pale skin now veined with black. More chains looped her wrists, drawing her arms out and back in a crucifixion parody, shoulders straining. A final thick collar of iron and dripping ooze encircled her throat, not tight enough to choke but tight enough to remind her that breathing was a privilege granted by whatever watched from the dark.
Then the shapes arrived.
They rose from the black like corpses surfacing in oil. Succubi and incubi—dozens, perhaps hundreds—half-formed, their bodies sculpted from the same crude ink that imprisoned her. Their skin glistened wet and unfinished, faces melting at the edges, mouths stretched into permanent, ecstatic grimaces. Eyes glowed dull crimson, pupils vertical slits that never blinked. Horns, wings, tails, claws—all dripped and reformed in lazy cycles, as though their very existence was an afterthought of lust gone septic.
One succubus—tall, breasts impossibly heavy, hips wide enough to birth nightmares—drifted forward first. Her fingers, long and clawed, trailed through the ink, leaving furrows that immediately refilled. She cupped Lilith’s chin with surprising gentleness, tilting her face upward.
“You mocked the Scapegoat,” the creature hissed, voice layered with a dozen overlapping whispers. “Called him toilet. Diaper. Plumbing. Now look where pride has carried you.”
Another incubus pressed against her from behind, chest to her back, erection hot and slick sliding between the chains that bound her thighs. He did not penetrate—yet. He simply rested there, pulsing in time with the abyss itself, letting her feel the promise of violation without granting release.
“You wanted to see his burden,” a third voice purred from somewhere below, near her feet. A succubus with serpentine tongue licked the arch of Lilith’s foot, slow and deliberate. “So we show you. Not just the weight. The texture. The taste. The endless, patient fucking of substitution.”
The chains tightened in rhythm. Each link seemed to grow barbs that pricked without breaking skin, injecting tiny doses of remembered sin: the burn of a lover’s betrayal, the cold thrill of a knife in the dark, the sour aftertaste of a child’s unanswered cry. They did not hurt in the mortal sense. They humiliated in the eternal one—reminding her that every act of defiance she had ever committed was now catalogued here, filed neatly beside the transgressions of empires and slaves alike.
A succubus drifted close enough to kiss her. Lips met lips. The creature’s tongue pushed past Lilith’s teeth, depositing a thick glob of the same black ink that filled the void. It tasted of copper pennies, spoiled milk, and the faint sweetness of stolen childhoods. Lilith tried to spit it out; the chains around her jaw snapped taut, forcing her to swallow.
“You refused to kneel,” the incubus at her back murmured into her ear, claws tracing lazy circles around her nipples through the tatters of silk. “Refused submission. So beautiful. So proud. Now kneel inside the machine that makes submission possible.”
The succubi began to circle faster, a slow, obscene carousel. One pressed her breasts to Lilith’s face, smothering her in soft, dripping flesh that smelled of overripe fruit and brimstone. Another slid between her chained thighs, tongue lapping at the place where ink met skin, cleaning her with reverent cruelty. A third wrapped long legs around Lilith’s waist from the front, grinding against her in slow, deliberate mockery of the motions Lilith herself had once used
. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
EVE BONDS
WITH RAVEN DEMON RAUM
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve-bonds.html?m=1
(CONTINUED EROTIC & DEMONIC NARRATIVE)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE CONFRONTS THE DEMON RAVEN RAUM
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_14.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE CONFRONTS THE RAVEN DEMON RAUM (PTSD DREAMS)
AN EROTIC PICTORIAL NARRATIVE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_45.html?m=1
(W/+100 New AI GENERATED IMAGES)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
EVE ENCOUNTERS
THE DEMON WOLF AAMON
I--II (PTSD)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_67.html?m=1
(EROTIC NARRATIVE)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE ENCOUNTERS
SHAPESHIFTING WOLF DEMON AAMON
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_11.html?m=1
PICTORIAL NARRATIVE
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
EVE SUBJECTED TO DEMONIC MISCHIEF
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_13.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
DISCOVERING
THE INKY BLACK ABYSS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE CONTINUES--YET
SECRET LIASON W/"THE TEMPTER"
SATAN’S DEMON SERPENT
&
BITTER BANISHMENT
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_19.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
DEMONESS LILITH
TAUNTING & TEMPTING
ADAM
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness_8.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
APPENDIX
LILITH & BUER
SLIMEY
SHAPESHIFTING SLUGS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-appendix.html?m=1
(EROTIC NARRATIVE)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
DEMONESS LILITH
VISITS DEMON BUER
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness_6.html?m=1
(AN EROTIC NARRATIVE)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE ENCOUNTERS DEMON BEELZEBUB
"THE LORD OF THE FLIES"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_5.html?m=1
(An Erotic Narrative)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE ENCOUNTER
DEMON BEELZEBU
"THE LORD OF THE FLIES"
PART 2
REMAINING NIGHTS
FOUR THROUGH SEVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve_7.html?m=1
(AN EROTIC & PICTORIAL NARRATIVE)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
EVE CONTINUES SECRET LIASON
W/THE DEVIL'S DEMON SERPENT
AN EROTIC NARRATIVE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-eve.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"THE DEVIL--YOU KNOW"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil-you.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
ASHLING
SEEING GREEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-ashling.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS: DEMONESS ISOLDE POCESSION
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness.html?m=1
(EROTIC NARRATIVE)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
DEMONESS ISOLDE POSSESSION "AN UNEXPECTED GUEST" PART 2
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demoness_3.html?m=1
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
ēåäø»
(Karasu BÅzu, or "Crow Monk")
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-karasu.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
LILITH & CYBELE
REACH A COMPROMISE
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/02/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-lilith.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
NORSE GOD LOKI
& GIANTESS ANGRBODA'S
MONSTROUS FAMILY
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse-god_30.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL & LOKI MAKE AN ALLIANCE
ATOP MT KIRKJUFELL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_29.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL
& THE FALSE PROPHET
BALAAM VISITING LILITH IN EGYPT
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_27.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL VISITS THE DEMON STOLAS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_26.html?m=1
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE DEVIL MEETS BALAAM
IN OLD JERUSALEM
& ENCOUNTER JEWISH SUCCUBUS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_87.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE HAG CONJURING NORSE GOD LOKI
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-hag.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
MOTHER GODDESS
WITH
ANGRBODA & SINYN
"FINDING CHRIST"
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-mother_25.html?m=1
(PICTORIAL NARRATIVE)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"POLLUTING SACRED PLACES"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-polluting.html?m=1
(MOTHER GODDESS WITH
ANGRBODA & SINYN)
NORSE GOD
LOKI "THE TRICKSTER"
& TWO WIVES
ANGRBODA & SINYN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse-god.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
NORSE GOD
LOKI&TWO WIVES PART 2
"In the Fevered Aftermath"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse-god_24.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
NORSE GODDESS SINYN
DRAWS THE UNHOLY GHOST
SHADOW NIGH
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-norse.html?m=1
CARMELA SOPRANO
MOBSTER WIDOW
(SOURCE)
From
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS
(PTSD DREAMS)
&
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/carmela-soprano-mobster-widow-from.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
CARMELA VISITING THE MADONNA
DISCOVERS
"DEMONS' PLAY"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-carmela_22.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
SOPHIA AKA
THE BLACK MOTH
STALKED
BY AAMON
THE WOLF DEMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-sophia.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
AAMON BLACK WOLF DEMON
&
JANICE (La Madre Orsa)
VISITING CHRIST CRUCIFIX
(EROTIC & DEMONIC NARRATIVE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-aamon-black-wolf.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
JANICE (MADRE ORSA)
RETURNING HOME
AS THE DEVIL'S
PRODIGAL DAUGHTER
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-janice.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"AN OLD FLAME"
THE DEVIL
&
JESSICA HARE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-old-flame.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
REVISITING
"AN OLD FLAME"
PART 2
THE DEVIL & JESSICA HARE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
"AN OLD FLAME"
PART 3
THE
DEVIL & JESSICA HARE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-old-flame_20.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON
SPIRITS:
JESSICA HARE
RECALLS
MEETING
THE DEVIL IN 1985
PART 4
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-jessica.html?m=1
(A CONTINUATION OF "AN OLD FLAME ")
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
DEVIL & LILITH
DEFYING
THE BURNING BUSH
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
THE
DEVIL & LILITH
The
Burning Bush of Defiance
Part 2
Expanded
Revelations Dialogue
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-devil_18.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
ABADDON
"THE DESTROYER"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-abaddon.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
Secret Meeting At Stonehenge
(Satan & Abaddon)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-secret.html?m=1
ABADDON
THE
DEMON DESTROYER
MEETING
THE BLACK MOTH
(SOFI)
AT
HELLMOUTH LOUNGE
. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS SPIRITS:
"THE BLACK MOTH"
(SOFI)
ENCOUNTERS
THE MARQUIS DEMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demons-spirits-black.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMONS:
"BAPHOMET"
THE BLACK MOTH
SOFI)
"ENLIGHTENMENT"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demons-baphomet-black.html?m=1
FURTHER
REFERENCES:
INTRODUCTIONS
DEMONS & FAMILIARS:
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/introductions-demons-familiars.html?m=1
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
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
DEMONIC CONCLAVE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-demonic.html?m=1
MEETING
DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
CONCLAVE
AFTER-PARTY
AT
"HELLMOUTH" LOUNGE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-conclave.html?m=1
(PTSD DREAMS)
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)
THE MOTHER GODDESS
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-mother-goddess-visiting-madonna.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
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
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"
RETURNS TO VISIT MAMMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-returns-to.html?m=1
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:
ASTAROTH
ANDROGYNOUS SNAKE DEMON
&
ASMODEUS
GOATHEAD DEMON OF LUST
LIAISON:
A DEMON FLING
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-deities-demon-spirits-astaroth.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
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
LILITH SUCCUBUS & INCUBUS
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demon-spirits-lilith-succubus.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 DEMONS
(PTSD DREAMS)
A PICTORIAL NARRATIVE
JANICE
(LA MADRE ORSA)
VISITING
CHRIST CRUCIFIX
(MEETS AAMON THE WOLF DEMON)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/meeting-demons-pictorial-narrative-ptsd.html?m=1
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
CARMELA VISITING
FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI
(PART 1)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/carmela-visiting-father-ozario-sister.html?m=1
CARMELA
VISITING FATHER OZARIO & SISTER YESSI
(PART 2)
MEETING DEITIES & DEMON SPIRITS:
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2026/01/carmela-visiting-father-ozario-sister_14.html?m=1
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)
FURTHER INTRODUCTIONS
OF DEMONIC DEITIES
LAMIA & JOHN KEATS
(PTSD DREAMS)
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
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
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
A SUPPLIMENT
OF
"THE YOUNG SOPRANOS"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/read-young-sopranos-source.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTY ORLANDO"
"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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