#stefan;

"For the love of... fuck, Luceus, shut up"

Merry Christmas. Or was it?

Stefan had been trying his best to be kind to everyone throughout the year; friends and family or complete strangers, it did not matter. It made him happy to make others happy, and he tried to make at least seven people happy every day.

But it was not easy to be nice when you were possessed...

So when he saw Krampus, he dropped his tea cup out of sheer shock.

“Oh man- h- hello there,” he could only stammer.

Then Satan chimed in, briefly taking over the young man’s body, making his skin turn grey and filling his eyes with a red glow.

Though he could have turned into a bird - one of the many side effects of the experiment that left him and his brothers turned into angels - Stefan chose not to. The darkness, ever his friend, would hide him out here, he thought.

And not just the dark. At night, the streets became all but empty. The chance that he would get noticed by the wrong people and threatened, hurt, or captured (a fear his whole family shared, really) was small. Who would be awake at this hour, after all?

Had he not chosen to fly, he would have still gone out. A midnight walk always helped, at the very least, clear his mind and make him tired enough to go to sleep without the chaos of a hundred thoughts in his head. No, he could use some freedom. No thoughts. Just flying. And the last thing he suspects is a witch. On a broomstick.

“Ah, what a pretty scenery. The people, the background, the colours, the shadows... but that would be strange, wouldn’t it, to just take a photo of them right here?” Stefan’s favourite part, or one of them, was editing the ready photos after the excitement of shooting them. Depending on what his article focused on, he’d take smaller or bigger journeys and, very often, meet new people in the process. He specialised on articles about nature and animals, but this time he had the task to snatch a few sights from around town.

He took a few steps back, trying to judge how close or far he should be to take a good photo... and then stopped short. “Oh snap. Are you okay? I didn’t walk into you, right?”

Phone on silent, TV off, headphones on. Writing was a mystical territory, and Stefan liked to explore it with all his senses open. It was almost like meditation. And that wasn’t surprising. He did, truly, earn his living with it. It needed to be perfect.

So when he got the idea for a story involving demons - and he knew one kind of them from a far too close distance thanks to being possessed - he started preparing for it. And not just by researching. He talked with Satan, or at least the incarnation currently possessing his body (to the point the demon got frustrated and left). He spent countless time online reading up on demons, in books of the occult, even touching upon witchcraft and checking out what different religions had to say on the matter of heavenly and hellish beings.

His research even included a pentagram. He decided to draw it by hand to get the feeling of what someone trying to summon a demon would do, what they’d think and behave like, why exactly they would want to call upon such a force.

...and it worked. Suddenly there was another silhouette in his living room.

"Ah, sorry- I didn't, uh... spray you with coffee, right?" Stefan both likes and hates being the last person in the cafe. Staying after work to work on his stories and novels often leads to him getting more and more tired, until packing his computer and phone away and pushing past the door are the only things he can manage without staggering with exhaustion.

His voice sounds calm, but you can't avoid the note of strain sneaking in, or the worry, or the anxiety.

And it seems he has just knocked down someone's cup.