#my grandma said he’s the anti Christ

[flimflambimbambleh]

Someone needs to kill that orange muppet mf

[homoose]

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’  for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

[phoenixyfriend]

The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU

As requested by @spazzbot​. This AU was initially brainstormed on the GG fanworks server almost a year ago. Specifically, on the first day of 2020.

[ID: a truncated discord message by “Miss Nixy, Gay for RoboLadies” posted 01/01/2020. The message reads “I need to sleep but please for the moment consider:” and ends there.]

So. Let’s get to it.

Satan took a human form because why not see what's going on topside, live like a human, and “Oh shit is this pregnancy? This is pregnancy. Fuck, that's a tiny human. Which is now half demon. Am I supposed to take care it? Wonder if retconing this form into that Valois family was a bad idea. They do have SO much money though, I get to live like a queen. I suppose another child shouldn't hurt, it wasn't that bad. Oh, he's cute, this is actually making sense, why humans do all the sinning. Not counting dear Aaronev's murders, of course, those are just evil, but I did search out the worst of the humans to pair myself to...”

This is literally just "Tarvek and Anevka's mom was low-key Satan on a bored “let's be human for a decade or two to see what happens” jaunt, consequences happen because these kids are LITERALLY half-demon and arguably anti-Christs."

Also it's just Very Funny for Tarvek, ineffectual sexy lamp fashion twunk extraordinaire, to be an antichrist

Jeff thinks he’s pretty. Jeff keeps describing features that don’t entirely make sense. (Jeff’s canon name is Karl Thotep but they spent so long unnamed that the server collectively named them Jeff.)

This is not a crossover with anything, btw. Ambiguously Pop Culture Satan just got bored and went to have babies with a serial killer.

They’re just kids! That are vaguely demonic. So. Moreso than the rest of the Valois.

Sometimes "mom" comes back from the dead and visits Anevka and Tarvek to impart Wisdom and possibly magic lessons The rooms always smell faintly of sulfur after that...

They try to put Anevka in the machine but SHE isn't hurt and the MACHINE just melts

So that's the end of that.

It's very awkward for everyone, but the paperwork isn't too bad. It's very easy to write "incidental fire began during late-fugue experimentation, resulted in fire spreading through six rooms and several casualties, including Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus."

As per @atagotiak​, “I feel like if we’re going in any way dimensional weirdness with thing, Tarvek got so good at exploring bc he could just clip through walls.”

With image provided by @thisarenotarealblog​:

Tarvek in Paris: My dead mother keeps showing up in my dreams to tell me I need to seduce my way out of my problems and also she looks like Satan. Tarvek's Voltaire-Appointed Therapist: I still don't know what that means. Just like the last five times. Tarvek: I keep telling her that I can’t seduce Colette, if seduction is that important she should get Anevka to do it.

Like he probably wouldn’t say most of that in front of any Voltaire-approved individual, but still.

Tarvek is still very good at self control but there's a Special Edge to his rants.

(Derailed in the moment to me thinking about Anevka in a sfw-but-concerningly-deadly succubus getup, because... yeah.)

Aaronev dies and goes to hell and his dead wife is just there like "hi! Time to be tortured for eternity!" He wasn't a good husband so. He can't exactly sentimentalize his way out.

“In the sexy way?” “... not for you, no.”

Mostly I just want the BULLSHIT that is "Storm Mom was actually just Satan getting bored and going on vacation as a retconned Valois girl, the kids are half-demons and sometimes it Shows."

To clarify: the Satan bit isn't the retcon. Grandma used to have one daughter. Now there are two. (Seffie and Martellus's mother doesn't remember being an only child, but sometimes...)

Satan retconned a new daughter in, which included a Valid Valois Venusian Vestment, so the blood tests play out.

The subtle signs of wrongness would be fun too. Anevka tends to smile a bit too wide and sharp for a human face. Inexplicable uneasiness, here you can’t point at any specific thing that’s wrong but it’s uncomfortable. Uncanny valley prettiness, almost like the porcelain she became in other timelines. Skin isn’t supposed to be that smooth.

My brain's pre-nap contribution at that point was "Satan's pronouns when not pretending to Human are sin/sinself" which is! Certainly a thing.

Tarvek, at some nebulous future point: I mean, your ancestors were monsters, but my dad was a serial killer and my mom was literally Satan, instead of just figuratively like Lucrezia, so. I mean. I kind of get what you're going through.

Per @firebirdeternal: Tarvek and Anevka growing up with "you're allergic to holy water" and not questioning it until a little later because What.

And then they test it and it's like "yeah, no, there's a rash now. That stung. What the fuck."

It INFURIATES Gil in Paris when Tarvek tells him that's a thing, because there's nothing chemically different about Holy water and regular water. But no, this is somehow happening.

It gets logged in medical journals as a Valois genetic thing because, well, Mom was like that too, right?

One time they both go into a church for an Adventure and Gil is very annoyed to find that Tarvek is like. Faintly smoking. It smells like burnt hair in here.

Gil: What smells like burnt hairgel? Tarvek: [glares]

Gil decides that it must be something particular to the church, like a fungus or something in the stone, contaminating the air and water so it only LOOKS like the holiness is what's setting off reactions.

It is not.

Tarvek once got into an argument with someone and ate a slab of raw, completely uncooked meat as a power move.

SVV seems to work perfectly. Everyone is fine. We get the ‘you fight like ducks’ moment.

And then Tarvek bursts into flames, and everyone panics because no they fixed this what the fuck is he still infected with Hogfarb’s oh my god... and then everything settles down and he's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him, no longer turning funny colors. Completely unharmed. He's in a nicely tailored suit and looks faintly stunned

"I just met my dead mom, who's apparently Satan. She told me that after I died the first time just now, I should be harder to kill later, especially with fire, because now there's more demon and less mortal and guys I think I'm going crazy." "Is that a martini?" Tarvek looks down. "Apparently."

Tarvek starts just. Randomly setting things on fire by glaring too hard and has to tone it down. Meanwhile, Agatha and Gil are having crises about how he's somehow getting PRETTIER.

Is he faintly glowing? Maybe!

Gil handles it by angrily sniping at Tarvek about how of COURSE he's an evil little rat with a background like that.

Tarvek just wants a nap and to forget this ever happened. Many people are sworn to secrecy. It's very awkward.

Still, SVV did something, for handwave-y reasons, and so they're linked now. Gil and Agatha both getting tiny flashes of the same shenanigans.

They get none of the powers. They just keep getting Weird Shit.

Other characters with divine influence are like "Did you.... did you make a pact with a demon?" "What no that's our boyfriend."

Tho tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if a Heterodyne did sign a contract with a demon at some point in exchange for like. Materials. A hundred souls sacrificed in exchange for some succubus blood. Thanks!

Tarvek and Othar: Falling out of CW as in canon. Tarvek: WHAT THE HELL SINCE WHEN DO I HAVE WINGS HIDE THIS BEFORE I GET BOOTED FROM THE LINE FOR THE THRONE

IDK where Anevka is during all this. I think she might have decided to go sleep her way through the courts of the Ice Tsars. Vacation, y'know?

Othar after he's decided to make Tarvek his new Heroic Apprentice: AH, my poor afflicted young friend, it's noble of you to go against the dark nature of your tragic heritage like this. Tarvek: I hate you. I wish I could hate you to death. But you have a point. I shouldn't let my father's blood limit what I strive for in life. Othar: I... I thought your mother was... Tarvek: I know what I said.

Tarvek: Also you can't tell ANYONE about that, I can't have them thinking I'm not actually in line for the Storm King's throne.

He does admittedly have to like. Explain things to Grandma.

Terabithia is Tarvek’s maternal grandmother so this is supremely awkward. That said...

Grandma fondly remembers her pregnancy cravings; bone marrow and sulfur.

"Yeah so, my mother, your daughter, was... maybe actually Satan? But retconned into your life?" "Tarvek, darling, please. I figured that out half a century ago."

TARVEK ACCIDENTALLY FINDS HIM HIMSELF WEIRDLY INTENSE AT CONTRACTS

I mean that honestly just Tracks about Tarvek anyways? But like moreso.

He just. Writes something up and there's things getting signed or shook on and then the person tries to break the contract and either suddenly catch fire or are deeply unlucky for a set amount of time.

And Tarvek's just standing there like "how in the FUCK did I do that?"

Severity of infernal punishment depends on the severity of the breach of contract.

Tarvek finds out that Anevka's been convincing rich people to sign their souls over to her. It's a fun challenge. She keeps them in jars.

They can still remotely pilot their bodies but like. They can't TELL anyone what happened.

Satan: I'm going to go make babies and now everyone else has to deal with the consequences.

Anevka's living up to that whole "princess of hell" vibe. Tarvek's just like "nope nope nope I want the storm throne, not the hell throne, BYE MOM."

Satan's just feeling sinself down in hell like "awwww look at my babies go, aren't they adorable?"

Tarvek: Anevka, what... first off, how did you figure it out? Anevka: Well, I temporarily died when father put me in the machine, and... I can't say that hell kicked me out because they were afraid I'd take over, but mother DID say she'd rather I play about with human governments instead of Hell's. Tarvek: Okay, cool cool cool. What after you planning to DO with all these souls? Anevka: They make for some lovely reading lamps, don't they?

(Anevka absolutely sets herself the goal of acquiring new titles that rival her old ones, or even surpass them. She just black widows her way through Europa.)

I just want someone (probably Snackleford) to ascend, take one look at Tarvek, and run SCREAMING.

Tarvek still needed to be anchored to Higgs, because Tarvek is Baby.

Gil is eventually in a relationship with an Eternal God Queen and the Literal Son of Satan.

Family dinners can include ALL the in-laws if you duck down to hell! - You borrow Bill from... probably heaven, maybe purgatory. - You have Lu and Aaronev and Satan already there, though the first two... well. Aaronev and Lu get invited to dinner but they have to eat by themselves at the kiddy table and nobody talks to them or acknowledges their presence. After all, this is hell, and what better punishment for Lu than to be completely ignored, and for Aaronev to see Lu at her worst and be reminded that he gave everything for this horrible, horrible person who isn't even pretending to care about him anymore. - Zanta and Klaus get invited via portal. - Anevka saunters in with a blood-soaked dress and a complaint about militant demon-hunters refusing to let her go shopping for a new pair of shoes. - Zeetha tagged along with the OT3. (She can't wait to see this situation explode.)

Oh God, Satan is actually second place as far as good parenting goes.

Well, actually, fourth. Because Adam and Lilith. But second as far as bio parents go. 1. Zanta 2. Satan 3. Klaus 4/5. Lu and Aaronev N/A. Bill

Someone (Anevka) decides to stir the pot and invites Von Pinn, Terabithia, Bang.

Bang is basically Gil’s older sister, right? Right.

This is Zanta meeting Bang for the first time! Zanta is just: "It's so nice to meet my husband's adopted daughter." Klaus freezes. Bang freezes. Gil is the only one who is just. "Yeah." Meanwhile Zeetha is crying with laughter off to the side because both of them deserve this. (Zanta would legit love Bang though.)

Agatha: Tarvek, I think DuPree is-- Tarvek: Hitting on my sister? I know. Agatha: On your mom, actually. Tarvek: NO!

Also I do love the idea of like. Nobody tells Bang they're inviting her. She just wakes up in Hell like. "Ah. Yes. Fair enough."

Satan: Oh no no no my dear, you're here as a guest. Besides as well as you'd fit you're not one of mine, you've got other things waiting for you. Bang: Okay, but I love the decor. And is that Cheesecake?

Bang’s family has their own evil god in the novels, but! Bang DID pick on Tarvek a lot in Paris. Satan cares more than Anevka does. Bang might get the sexy punishment.

I feel like the fact that no permanent damage was done and it taught Tarvek a lot of things means Satan isn't gonna be all that upset about it.

And let's be real, if there's a character in GG who could look the literal Christian devil in the eye and be like "Yeah I tortured your kid, what're you going to do about it?" it's Bang.

Even Satan doesn't know what to do or think about Othar.

He sure is here! As Anevka’s arm candy! Nobody knows what to do except Anevka herself, who just wants to be Smug.

(What's that scene from Phineas and Ferb that's the mad scientist trapping the platypus within the rules of polite dining at a fine restaurant? Like he can't make a scene because that would be rude?) (That. Othar would dearly love to start a fight, but it's a Family Dinner. You're only allowed to fight verbally at those.)

(Othar isn't even fighting Satan, he just wants to argue with Klaus.) (And maybe fanboy in Bill's direction a bit).

[anangelwhodidntfall]

Blood In The Water: Angel

Lola knew that there was something different about Micheal and that maybe he wasn't entirely all that evil as everyone made him out to be but she needed to be at the murder house without him knowing so she could see what really happens when she's not around and maybe get some answers.

I slowly made way outside and out of sight to where no one would see me transform into my other form which was a giant snake and uncommon for an angel to be able to do this. Once I was in my snake form, I slowly made my over to the murder house where I was met with a rotten smell coming from the garden. I made my way over to the garden where I saw that Constance has clearly been doing a lot of gardening since Iast night.  As I moved throughout the garden the rotten smell got stronger until I came face to face seeing a pile of dead rats which made almost made me sick.

"Maybe he's just displaying signs of a serial killer instead of being the antichrist." I thought as I dug through each of the planted flowers trying to figure out if that what all these plants were hiding.

I was so focused on my investigating that I didn't even hear micahel leave the house until I felt a firey hand placed around my thoart nearly killing me. I started coughing and instantly transformed myself back to my human form which caused Michael to instantly drop me and look at me confused.

"What the hell?" He asked looking at me slightly confused and scared.

"Me what the hell? How about you, you almost killed me!" I said after regained my breathing.

"I didn't know it was you! I was worried that this thing was coming to kill grandma but you've got some explaining to do." He says clearly upset by the matter.

"Michael please there are things that you won't understand." I said hoping that he would just drop the situation, I wasn't ready to explain the whole angel to him.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked again backing away from me as I tried to take a step closer to him.

"Lola, you know this Mikey." I said truly scared that I ruined this relationship by hiding my true identity.

"I know that, I mean what are you?" He asked looking up at me curiously.

"I'm Angel of the Lord." I said opening my wings to show him who I really was.

I watched as he slowly approached me, obviously still confused about everything that was happening right now. He carefully reached a hand out and brushed them against my wings, and carefully pulled a feather between his fingers.

"They're so beautiful." He says finally looking at me.

"Thank you, one of my gifts is beng able to transform into a snake as you've just seen." I said.

"So why are here if you're an angel?" He asked.

"I was sent here because of you, everyone seems to have this notion that you are the Anti-christ." I said feeling worried about his reaction.

"And do you believe that?" He asked still playing with the feather in his hands.

"I don't know what to believe but honestly if you were, I wouldn't blame you for wanting to start the world over. This planet has been hurting for far too long." I said quietly as I feel him wrap his arms around me.

"Then that's what we will do. Together. We will remake this world it was meant to be." He said placing a kiss on my lips as I began to think about what this would mean for me and my fate.

[americanhorrorbatch]

"Rebirth of Light & Dark" 1/?

•March, 2012•

"Push Leah, you're almost there." The mid wife says as Leah's mother dabs her head. Leah lets out screams and cries as she pushes. A baby's cry filled the room. "Let me see my boy." She says. "Ma'am, it appears your boy is actually a healthy baby girl." The mid wife smiles. "A girl?" She breathes. The mid wife nods wrapping the new born up in a blanket and handing her to Leah. She lets out a happy laugh with her mother, tears in her eyes. "What is her name?" Her mother asks.

"Y/N, Y/N M/N L/N" she says happily.

The new Christ.

•Same Day March, 2012•

Vivien Harmon goes in to labor and gives birth to one still born and one healthy one. That healthy child will be known as Michael Langdon, The anti christ.

•2015•

You were playing with your dolls and overheard your Mother on the phone. "Oh my God- I yeah- I'll be there soon." She speaks anxiously hanging up the phone and picking you up. "Come on Y/N, we have to go and see Grandma." she says and you rush over to your Grandma's. Your Grandmother was diagnosed with Leukemia a year before you born. It has been getting worse and worse as days went by. You were sitting by your Grandmother's bed when your moms phone rang. "Mom, I will be right back. Y/N Behave." she says as she leaves the room. You walk up to your Grandmother's bed. You were 3 years old but physically looked 5 or 6. "Hey Grandma, are you gonna be with my Daddy?" You ask. Your Grandmother looked at you. She couldn't respond. "Daddy, says that he wants me to heal you. That it's not you're time just yet." you say placing your hand on your Grandmother's heart and a light glowed. Your Grandmother's eyes widened and she felt so much better. "Leah!" Your Grandmother shouted as she got out of bed. Leah runs in. "Mom?! How is this possible?!" She says rushing over to her. "Your daughter has the gift. We must introduce her to the supreme! We never had a witch in our family discover their powers this early in life!" she says happily.

•At Miss Robichaux's Academy•

"So, this is the child then?" The blonde haired woman asks. Next to her was a bushy red headed woman in glasses. "Yes, it is. Y/N say hello to our Supreme." Your mother says nudging you to get closer. The blonde haired woman bowed down in front of you. "Hello Y/N, my name is Cordelia and this is Myrtle. We heard so much about you." She smiles and you giggled. "Would you mind doing something for me?" Cordelia asks and you nod. "Can you turn this flower blue?" She asks pulling out a white flower. You place your hand on it and it turns red. "I mean it's not blue but with practice-" she starts then it turns orange to yellow then blue, indigo, violet, and back to white. The flower petals fell and turned into mini butterflies which flew around the room, and back on to the stem. She smiled looking down impressively at you taking the flower back. "My, My." The red head breaths impressed, her hand rested on her chest. "Would you like to stay here and learn your true potential? That is, if it's okay with your mother?" Cordelia asks looking up at your mother who nods. "Perfect, Queenie will show you to your room." Cordelia says and a woman walks in and holds out her hand for you to take. You grab it and began walking out. "My name is Queenie, what's your name?" she asks. "My name is Y/N!" You squealed happily making her laugh.

•With Michael•

Michael sat in his rocking chair smiling looking down at what he done to his nanny. He liked playing his games with his nannies. Rare quit as they meet him. Most die at his hands. Constance walked in the room and saw what Michael had done. She placed her hand on top of her stomach and she walked over to him trying not to step on the deceased nanny. She bows down in front of the giggling child who is rocking in his chair. She places her hand on his chin. "Now, what am I gonna do with you?" She asks.

•2016•

"Y/N girl, why aren't you up yet you still haven't ate- what the fuck?!" Queenie asks opening up the door to see a girl who went from looking 6 or 7 to 15. "Cordelia!" she shouts and Cordelia rushes over. "What's going on, Did something happen to Y/N?!" she asks. "You might wanna check this out." Queenie says opening the door. "Cordelia, what's wrong?!" You ask shaking scared at how everyone is reacting. "Y/N?" she asks. "Yes?" You respond. "How is it you grew nearly a decade within a year?" she asks you.

"Wait...That's not normal?"

•2017•

"Cordelia, may I please come with you?" You beg. "Y/N, I don't know." She mumbles. "Cordelia darling, this could be a wonderful learning experience for her." Myrtle says. "Yes, what Myrtle said!" You say happily. "Oh, fine." she smiles and you get excited getting ready to go. "We're just seeing a bunch of warlocks for a meeting, nothing exciting about that darling." Myrtle laughs.

•At Hawthorne•

The Witches walk into the Academy. "I hate this dreadful place." Myrtle says.

@langdonsgun

[isabelle-c-r]

Inescapable

Author’s Note: Okay, I’m a tiny (extremely) bit obesessed with Cody Fern (and by proxy Michael Langdon) right now, so I need to get this story out of my head so I can be less obsessed.

Michael x Original Character

This is a bit of a prequel, and introduction to the new character. Not smutty (yet), but a bit of fluff, just wanted to do some building.

“You okay kid?” a voice asked as Michael slouched down in the back pew. He looked, surprised to see a woman not much older than his “current” age looking back. Long, messy dark blonde curls hanging around her face.

“Um, I guess,” he said, feeling the pit in his stomach growing, the one he thought would never go away.

“Ah, so it’s that kind of day. Looks like life took a giant shit on you.”

“I’m fine,” Michael spit crossing his arms over his chest, wanting to disappear.

“You’re not a very good liar either,” she said sliding closer, he could hear the smirk on her face.

He glared to the side quickly, “Why do you care?”

“I’m a Satanist, not an asshole. Plus, look at you,” she said brushing a matted curl off his temple without thought. The motion scared Michael, but he didn’t stop her. 

“It’s been a rough few days...” Michael started to brush away a tear as he shifted in his seat, thinking of his Ms. Mead.

“No shit,” the girl said reflexively, immediately regretting it as she saw the solemn look dragging down his beautiful features. She leaned down in the pew, trying to meet Michael’s blue gaze. “Hey, I don’t normally do this, but my house is near by. If you want you could come over, shower, eat, rest. I could clean you’re clothes for you.”

“Really?” he said blinking through teary eyes. “Thanks, that’s actually really nice.”

“Well you look like you could use a break.”

After the service, the woman and Michael got into her car, and she was right about her house being close, just five minutes away from the church. Neither of them spoke the whole way, only listened to the radio. The woman thought it was best to leave the boy alone, as he looked so defeated. Michael was too weak and weary to make idle conversation, but knew that he’d have to eventually, though he wondered how long he could keep it together before it all poured out.

“My name’s Michael by the way,” he finally said as they got to the steps of her house.

“Adrasteia,” she said as she theatrically swung open the door and gestured for Michael to get inside. “Come on.”

“Adrasteia? What is that?” he asked, stepping in cautiously, grazing past her body, face to face, his heart beating a bit faster at her proximity.

“It’s Greek actually, but you can just call me Ada. I don’t really have a preference.”

Ada led Michael into her kitchen and placed him at the island counter before immediately heating up a big bowl of leftover pasta.

Looking around the room Michael began to wonder how someone as young as her had a house this nice. “So how did you... how did-” he began.

“How did I get into Satanism?” she said looking back at him with lively ocean eyes before dealing with the microwaved pasta. “Lucifer’s an old friend of mine.”

“Is he how you got this house? Sign your name on a contract in blood, that sort of deal?” he smiled weakly, a light chuckle on his lips, responding to what he thought was a joke.

“There’s always blood involved where the devil’s involved, but this house was all me. I worship, but my soul’s still very much mine, and I plan to keep it that way,” Ada said as she slid the bowl of pasta infront of Michael. 

Michael smiled weakly again as he picked up the fork. “I wish I was as certain about things as you. I had some sort of direction once, but now...”

Ada sighed not wanting to see the beautiful boys face be so sad. “Kid, what happened to you?” she asked leaning up against the island directly across from him. 

“Why do you keep calling me kid? We’re pretty much the same age.” Michael was frustrated, not wanting to be a child anymore, needing to be a man.

Reiterating, she said, “What happened?”

For a moment Michael considered not saying, that he might sound crazy, but before the thought could run through his brain fully his mouth was moving.

“Well, my father abandoned me, my mother tried to kill me, the woman who raised me committed suicide, and my Ms. Mead was murdered, that was four days ago,” he said taking a bite and pausing to appreciate that he could actually taste food, grateful to not be numb anymore.

“What the fuck. Is that true? How are you- well on second thought, look at you,” Ada said as she looked at his dust coated, sweat soaked clothes. “What have you been doing since... four days ago?”

“Mostly just sitting in a circle and threatening to die if my father didn’t give me some sort of sign.”

Ada tapped her nails on the counter, trying to understand. “Okay... who’s your father?”

“The one you worship.”

“Excuse me?”

Michael took a deep breath. “This anti-christ gig is not all you guys hype it up to be,” he said pointing his fork at her.

“Can’t be that bad,” Ada said with crossed arms, not as warm as she was moments before, her ocean eyes turning stormy.

“Look at me,” he said with no hint of amusement as he met her unwaivering gaze. He saw the realization rise in Ada’s eyes as the doubt and skepticism began to fade away.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she said looking him dead in the eye.

Michael didn’t say anything, he just lifted up his hair to reveal the mark. Ada rushed to his side, her cold hands making Michael vibrate as she lightly touched his devil’s mark.

He could hear her trying to form words or think of something clever to say, the shock coursing through her. All he could think of was the trace of her touch on his skin. He wanted to look at her, see the surprise. Ada backed away, taking him in, seeing the beauty underneath all that grime.

“I thought you’d be-”

“Taller,” Michael finished with a closed lip smile, making her chuckle ever so briefly. 

“If I’d known... I would’ve made you something... I made you microwaved pasta,” she said with slight panic.

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal. I’ve gotten over it, my father seems to have forgotten about it. And the food’s delicious, but what I could really use is a shower.” Michael attempted to run an elegantly fingered hand through his dark golden locks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course, you can finish this later, follow me,” Ada grabbed his upper arm before letting go, realizing whose arm it was, though Michael wished she had left it there. She lead him upstairs to the main bathroom.

Ada grabbed a t-shirt and sweat pants from the dresser in the master bedroom, leaving Michael to his business. 

Michael had been grateful for the food and the warm shower as he scrubbed the four days of dirt and sweat off his body. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to do anything. He felt helpless and alone, and no matter how powerful he was, he couldn’t change that feeling. He went through all the shit he had been through in his short life. Everytime he lost faith in humanity, everytime something confirmed his beliefs, someone came along to contradict them. Someone like Grandma Constance. Someone like Ms.Mead. Someone like Ada.

When he got out, Michael looked at himself in the mirror. He had been a child not long ago, but now, he was something else. He looked like a man, but he wasn’t sure what he was.

“Hello? Michael? I have some clothes for you to change into...” Ada said as she stepped in with a pile of neatly folded clothes in her hands.

She paused when she came in, taking in his lean, golden body, towel wrapped around his hips.

Walking over, Michael took the clothes from her, lingering on her cool hands. He watched her eyes flicker between his own eyes and his lips. Tentatively he leaned down, eye focused on one thing.

Their lips barely touched when she put a hand up to lightly push him away. A ripple of goosebumps rising in her wake.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought...”

“It’s okay, no need to apologize. I just... you’re... you’re too young for me,” she said bending down and picking up his dirty clothes. “Come finish eating when you’re dressed.”

Michael looked down at the clothes in his hands. ‘How can I be too young?’ he thought. They were practically the same age, in a manner of speaking of course.

When he arrived back in the kitchen feeling warm and clean, he was surprised to find that Ada wasn’t there. Michael still ate his food diligently, trying to fill the pit, always starving in some way. He ate in silence and he didn’t enjoy it. He wanted her watching him, marvelling at him.

When he was done he went looking for her.

“Hello? Adrasteia?” he called out as he wandered up the stairs, looking for any signs of life.

“In here!” she called out. 

As he stepped in Ada finished up what he assumed was a letter. “Hey, sorry about that.”

“No problem,” he said, and re-adjusting his posture, straightening his back feeling more himself. “Is this where I’ll be sleeping.”

Ada looked at him with some surprise. “Uh, sure, just let me go get a fresh change of sheets,” she said rushing out of the room.

Michael walked up to the bed. Sitting down he forgot how good a bed could feel and without thinking he laid down. His eyes got extremely heavy as if with every bat of his lashes a layer of clue was adding to the resistance. He wasn’t fully aware of Ada coming back into the room, but he felt her.

She laid down beside him, chest to back, and wrapped her arm around Michael. He turned over instinctually, nuzzling into her chest.

“Do you think I can do it?” he whispered in a light  child-like voice.

She craddled him to her as you would a child, petting his hair. 

“Do what?”

“Whatever it is I’m supposed to do. What everyone thinks I should do,” he said with a fading voice.

Ada breathed deeply, taking in his scent as she hugged him closer. “You can do whatever you want, as long as it’s what you want, not what anyone else wants. The worse life is the one lived for other people. Be yourself, beautiful boy,” she said and lightly kissed him on the forehead as his breathing slipped into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Looking down at his golden head, Ada smiled. She thought of all the things she’d done to get him -every choice and deal made, all the little details that led to his creation- and how easily he had almost thrown it all away. But she would always forgive him. He was hers more than anyone elses.

“My beautiful boy,” she whispered to herself.

***

Adrasteia was at the black mass,watching Michael as he made the sacrifice. He’d woken up after that night feeling rejuvinated, more sure of himself though he knew he still needed direction. When he slit the throats of the man and woman he looked to Ada who stared back with a slight smile. He decided instantly that he wanted her with him, in anyway he could get. She had brought him comfort when he thought he would never feel again. He was grateful.

The others landed on him like vultures, hoping he’d give them some piece of the world’s carcass.

“Everybody fuck off,” she said when the group kept asking questions. She could see the annoyance on his face. “I’m sure Mr. Anti-christ will answer all your questions when he’s done eating.”

They all backed away as her gaze cut through them.

“Can I ask you something?” Michael said between slow mouthfuls.

“Sure,” she said brushing away a stray strand of gold from his face, Michael’s eyes following each movement with intense concentration.

“Would you... would you be able to stay with me?”

“Stay with you?”

“I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do, it’s a bit terrifiying, but I feel comfortable with you. No matter what I do, I think I want you to be there with me.” Michael lower his face as he could feel himself blush at the thought of her arms around him and his head on her chest.

“Michael...”

“You don’t have to answer now.”

“Is there anyone else that you felt comfortable around? Someone that loves you?” she asked with nervous eyes.

Michael looked at her, a bit hurt that she was asking, that she was trying to pawn him off. 

“Someone that will always be there,” She said with a sigh before looking up at him with smile. “Someone you haven’t known for a day.”

“There was... My Ms.Mead, but she’s gone now,” he said with a sombre tone.

“Oh, the one that was murdered?” 

He nodded slowly.

“Hmmm, in that case, I have an idea. Let science succeed where magic has failed.”

Michael had no idea what to expect when Ada shuffled him in the car the next morning. He knew that he was disappointed. He’d dreamt of her that night. He dreamt of just being with her, feeling her next to him, knowing she was a warm constant that made him feel not alone anymore. He’d woken up with tears in his eyes.

“Where are we going?” Michael asked as they drove down the coast in her red convertible. 

“To someone that can help you figure out what to do next, and who might be able to bring back your Ms.Mead,” Ada said, her wild hair blowing like a rabid animal in the wind. 

“Are you gonna come with?” he asked looking over at her. He wished he could see those ocean eyes through the sunglasses. He couldn’t figure out what she was thinking, and it frustrated him beyond belief that he couldn’t even see through a crack into her thoughts. 

Ada reached over and took Michael’s hand, thumb lightly carressing the back of his hand. “I think it’s best if I stay behind for this part, the fewer disctractions the better.”

“But you wouldn’t be a distraction,” he almost pleaded.

Ada looked over at him, noting his inability to hide anything he was feeling. She didn’t let go of his hand, just squeezed it tighter.

“You care so much don’t you? You want to feel love just like the rest of us, but you need to save that for later. As you’ve already seen it can be a terrible weapon that your enemies will use against you. If I’m not a distraction, then I’ll be a weakness.”

Michael didn’t say anything else. He just thought over her words. She would be a weakness. The witches had so easily taken away his Ms. Mead, they would do the same to her if they learned of her existence, if they found out he had any connection to her. He didn’t want another charred corpse in the place of someone he cared for. The only way he could have her was to complete his mission. He needed to end the world. He needed to kill the witches. He needed to win.

He held her hand till the end.

“Will I ever see you again?” he asked kneeling down on the drivers side of her car.

The building they were infront of looked like a spaceship, one made entirely of glass. But it was silicon valley and it seemed to almost be a competition between companies to see who could make the most “futuristic” building.

“I hope so,” she said taking his hands in hers, kissing them ever so lightly. 

Michael went to stand up, but Ada hadn’t let go of his hands. She wouldn’t let go. 

“Ada?”

Ada reached for his upper arm and pulled him down to her, taking his face in her hands and kissing him without though. Michael breathed into it, his own long fingers lacing into her soft hair. Ada moved her lips slowly against his, guiding him through his first kiss, his first rush. His body flooded with heat and energy. There was something incredibly perfect about the feeling of being with her. Michael felt Ada’s thumb ever so delicately brush over his mark, as if it were some precious thing, as if he were. 

They didn’t want it to end, but Ada knew any longer and he might never leave. He might forget his purpose and take her away, seal her away from anyone else so that it could just be the two of them, alone forever.

“Be what you are, not what they make you. Goodbye, beautiful boy,” she whispered in his ear before pushing him away and driving off. 

Ada didn’t look back. 

Michael did.

[writings-of-a-british-fangirl]

Who Is He? (Young!Michael Langdon x Reader)

Title: Who Is He? Summary: Michael gets jealous after seeing the fact that a boy has messaged you. He's been in love with you for a while, but what will he do about it? Warnings: Almost smutty (making out, hinted more) Request: N/A

A/N: Yes, I have fallen for the anti christ... I haven’t watched all the episodes yet (only up to episode 7 or something), but omg young Michael makes me so soft! Enjoy!

Want to read more of my stuff? >>Here<< OR >>Here [Mobile]<< [Got any feed back? I’d love to hear it!] Want to see the upcoming requests? >>Here<<

Michael Langdon~Who Is He?

Your friendship with Michael was something of a mystery. You weren’t really sure how you became friends, or how you’d become so close in such a short amount of time, but at some point it stopped mattering to you. Michael was all that mattered.

         At first, you found it quite odd that you’d never met any of his other friends, but you soon discovered that wasn’t because he was embarrassed by you: it was because he didn’t have any others. The fact made you sad; Michael was kind and gentle to you. He deserved much more than life he given him. Soon after meeting him and becoming close, he’d told you about his grandma dying and about how his mum was actually his adoptive mum. You’d held him for some time after that: you couldn’t bear to see him sad, let alone cry.

         Michael had never felt such warmth. In truth, when he first met you, he didn’t think he’d fall for you like he had. He was a monster, the son of Satan, and yet here he was falling in love with the purest of angels that heaven had to offer. So, he kept you close. Michael trusted you and wanted to love you like you deserved. Of course, he’d never said out loud to you how he felt. Despite who he was, what he was, he still feared rejection just like everyone else. And especially from you. He couldn’t lose you. Michael craved your presence and your love. To risk that was all too much for Michael.

         But then something else was threatening your love to him: someone else.

         Your friends were nice enough. You talked about them a lot but mostly Michael paid no mind to them: he was your best friend, not them. However, there was someone who wasn’t quite your friend… A boy. In your psychology class, apparently. He was appearing more and more in your notifications. What? Michael didn’t mean to invade your privacy… Well sort of. He wasn’t doing it maliciously! He… He was just curious. And your phone was sitting right there on his bed- the temptation was too much.

         He was quite dissatisfied with what he found. Initially, it was the usual. Messages from various group chats, Instagram likes, the occasional reminder you’d set yourself and then a snapchat.

         From Blake.

         ‘What a dumb name,’ Michael thought.

         And then he noticed a text from Blake too, and a Twitter DM. Who needed this many forms of communication?! Michael grumbled to himself, but had no more time to snoop as he heard your footsteps approaching his room.

         “Who’s Blake?”

         Michael hadn’t meant to ask so abruptly, and regretted it almost immediately. Apparently, subtlety wasn’t Michael’s strong suit.

         “A boy in my psych class,” you said nonchalantly, throwing yourself on the bed next to Michael, “Have you been going through my phone, Michael?”

         You noted that your phone was in a different place from where you had left it.

         Michael blushed slightly.

         “I-“

         “Naughty boy,” you say, straddling Michael.

         “Y/N…” Michael's mouth goes dry.

         Your hands run up and down his chest and eventually settle on his shoulders. The sensation of you on his lap is almost too much for Michael to take. It’s the most safe and simultaneously nervous he has ever felt. Nevertheless, he didn’t want it to end.

         “Were you jealous?” you murmur into his ear.

         “… Maybe. Who is he-“

         “-No one important, I promise.”

         “But your phone…” Michael argues lamely.

         “Who’s lap am I on?”

         “Mine.”

         Michael stifles a moan.

         “Exactly,” you murmur, “You’re important. Not him. He’s no one, I promise. Do you believe me?”

         “Yes,” Michael whispers after a moment of silence.

         “Good.”

         You go to get off of his lap, but Michael resists. His hands settle on your thighs. You raise your eyebrow and smile; Michael mimics your smile.

         “Don’t move,” Michael all but begs.

         “I won’t,” you tell him, cupping his face.

         You lean in and kiss him, passionately and forcefully. Michael has never been kissed before, let alone like this. His whole body feels electric. Without realising, his fingers dig into your thighs in the most delightful way. One of your hand falls from his face and you use it to gently move one of his hands to the small of your back. Michael barely notices, but once he recognises where it is, he uses it to bring you closer to him.

         “I love you,” you confess to him, breathless from the kiss, “Only you Michael.”

         “Good,” he replies, “I love you too.”

         You’re about to kiss him again… And more when Miss Mead walks in. You pull away from Michael slightly in embarrassment, but Michael doesn’t let go of you. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, not wanting to make eye contact with his mum.

         “I was just checking up on the two of you,” she laughs, “But it seems you two are fine.”

         “Yes we are,” Michael relies, “Please leave-“

         “-I’m glad something has finally happened. Michael's been moping over you for ages.”

         “Leave!” Michael protests, flustered.

         You lift your head, and look to Miss Mead. She smiles.

         “Really?” you ask, before looking to Michael, “Is that true, Mikey?”

         “Yes…”

         You smile and gently touch his cheek.

         “Please get out,” he mumbles to Miss Mead, and she obliges.

         He doesn’t speak for a moment, upset that he’d mother had freely shared such information. What did you think of him? He wasn’t just some teenage boy with an obsession for a pretty girl- it was more than that. Michael didn’t dare to meet your eyes.

         “Don’t be embarrassed, Michael,” you say sweetly.

         “I didn’t mope over you,” he says under his breath.

         “I know,” you smile, gently brushing his hair out of his face, making him look at you, “I know, love.”

         He just looks at you for a moment.

         “Now do you want to continue what we started?”

         “Yes.”

         All the embarrassment and frustration he felt a moment ago fades and he is filled with a desire for you, for his love, for his Queen.

         “Then make me scream.”

[whatthehelltimespell]

Only Time Will Tell Chapter Three

Title: Only Time Will Tell Chapter 3/? Rated Teen-ish By they way I actually did research into different traits for development of a four year old and Cody was spot on!!!  So I tried to stick with that with the emotions and things like that.  I did research into older kids as well, because I plan on helping the character mature mentally and emotionally over the course of a few months.  Not sure about romance yet, but I’m already against anything really sexual considering his mental age.  (I found Michael to either be asexual or definitely demi-sexual, one or the other.  Like he could use sexuality to bend others to his will, but he himself didn’t feel it, if that makes any sense.)  Plus, isn’t his ending mental age - before the episode from hell - like between 7 and 9 or something, so at the most he may be curious in my story, but . . . yeah, no.

The night Michael spent at Elizabeth's was uneventful. They played a card game and then they both went to bed. She had a guest room and that was where she put him. She waited until he was good and asleep before going to sleep herself. She'd locked her door, just in case, but nothing happened. Michael was still in bed when she woke up the next morning.

It gave her plenty of time to get breakfast started. Since she had a guest, she made bacon, eggs, and biscuits instead of just enjoying a bowl of cereal. A sleepy-eyed Michael with bedhead came into the kitchen as the smell of frying bacon filled the house. He stood in the doorway for a few seconds before deciding he was too tired to stand and ended up plopping down on one of the chairs at the table.

She held back a grin. The only thing he was missing was a blanket trailing behind him to complete the picture of a rumpled kid rejecting the idea of being awake and out of bed. Some anti-Christ, she thought as she rolled her eyes. Mallory and Constance really had it wrong.

"Good morning."

"Mm," he harrumphed.

"I feel ya. I hate mornings too."

That got a smile from him at least.

"I actually usually like mornings," he admitted. "I still don't feel great."

He was probably still drained. She'd never met anyone as highly sensitive as he was – then again . . . four-year olds did get their feelings hurt very easily. She still couldn't believe she was even considering the idea that he'd grown up overnight, but she could see it, she really could. It was impossible, but . . . Michael did have childlike ways about him.

She guessed she would learn more later when they had their meeting with Constance. ---------- Once Elizabeth was done cooking, she piled everything into containers and set it on the table. She got out two plates and all the silverware needed and then sat down across from Michael. She gave one plate to Michael before putting the utensils where they needed to be.

"Help yourself," she said.

She learned that Michael loved food and loved eating, but she didn't know if it was because he actually liked it or if his body was trying to keep up with itself. Even if he was stuck with four-year old traits, his body very much was not. He would need as much nutrition as an actual teenage boy did. He seemed to really like the biscuits, which were just the ones that came in a can that you popped in the oven for about twenty minutes.

"So . . . when do you want to go see your grandma?"

Michael paused as he was beginning to scoop up some egg and then put his fork on his plate. He shrugged. He shut himself off almost immediately and Elizabeth realized again how much it had hurt him to be kicked out of his house. The woman he'd spent his life with had abandoned him.

"I'll be there with you, Michael. Maybe we can figure something out. Okay?"

He nodded, but she could tell he wasn't certain there was anything to figure out.

"Anyway, eat your food. We don't have to worry about your grandma until we go see her." ---------- Elizabeth and Michael went to see Constance right after breakfast. Mallory was there also and Elizabeth had a few things she wanted to say to both of the women before allowing Michael into the conversation. They left Michael in the living room while they went into the kitchen to talk, much like they had the day before.

"Is the . . . body gone?"

"Yes," Constance said.

"Okay, good. I have two requests for our conversation today."

Both women seemed a little suspicious of what Elizabeth would say. She didn't know why. If anything, she should be suspicious of them.

"I didn't tell Michael about what you guys planned to do to him, so don't mention it. Right now, he only thinks I saved him from getting run over and nothing else. Not who did it and not that you meant to."

Mallory didn't seem to even have to think before agreeing to that. Elizabeth was just happy she wouldn't have to argue her point.

"Second thing is . . . don't mention the anti-Christ thing. Okay? You tell him that and he might not let us help him. He might not even care if he does bad things anymore because . . . well . . . anti-Christ. In fact, I don't want to hear anything negative about him because there are only so many times you can hear how much of a monster you are before you just become one. From all I know of what you told me . . . he needs positive reinforcement in his life."

Constance and Mallory both seemed to be thinking it over and then Constance asked, "Miss Garnet, how old are you?"

"Twenty."

"How is it you can afford to live on your own here? It's not cheap. Where is your money coming from?"

She shrugged. Her home life was nothing to brag about but she wasn't against talking about it either.

"My father is a lawyer and my mother is a doctor. I found the house and they helped me with a down payment; I've had a job since I was seventeen, which helped. I'm just getting settled now. I make money delivering groceries. I plan on finding something else in the near future and then starting school next year. Psychology will be my major."

"Is that why you think you can help him?" Mallory asked, skepticism very apparent in her voice.

"I don't know if I can help him at all," Elizabeth said, "But I will at least try to lead him the right way." ---------- Michael stayed in the living room for what had to be a good fifteen minutes until he was invited into the kitchen. He stood in the doorway until Gramma gestured to a chair at the table. Elizabeth and his Gramma sat down, but the other girl, Mallory, remained standing. He noticed she kept her eyes on him and he didn't like it, really. It was like she expected him to snap and do something horrible.

"Michael, it's okay," Elizabeth said.

The way she spoke made him think that it really was, that she wouldn't let anything hurt him, especially not the other girl in the room. He chose to sit beside her. Gramma might not want him to sit by her, and he didn't really know Mallory. He'd only met her that day when they'd arrived; he didn't even know why she was there.

"Michael," his gramma said, gaining his attention. She wasn't as upset as she had been yesterday, which had to be a good sign. "You know why I made you leave yesterday."

He did and he didn't, but he wasn't going to argue.

"You said you knew you were doing bad things and that you didn't know why you kept doing them."

"I don't know why."

"I think I do," Elizabeth said. "Your grandma told me about how you grew up overnight. That you are basically a four-year old in a sixteen-year old body."

Michael was hesitant to let her know that was true. How much weirdness could she take before she would want him gone like Gramma?

"As a four-year old, you will lash out when you're angry or scared. Like I said last night . . . you were defending yourself against that priest. You could have done it a different way, but . . . you were defending yourself."

"Yes!" Michael agreed. "That's what I said yesterday before –"

"She shouldn't have kicked you out," Elizabeth said, looking at Gramma. "I told you yesterday that Michael needs guidance. At that level of development – I'm speaking mentally, here – he has to have an adult lead him when he gets out of control. From what you said, you never did. Children need rules and boundaries. Some doctors even think they like them; it can make them feel safe because they know their parents, or whoever, care enough to set them."

Had Gramma ever given him rules or boundaries? He couldn't think of a time when she had. He didn't know if he wanted them.

"Mallory and your grandmother came up with a plan to help you, Michael."

Elizabeth gave him an encouraging smile and then gestured for Gramma to speak.

"It was Elizabeth who suggested it, actually," Gramma said. "She thinks she can help you if you stay with her for a while."

"Because you don't want me anymore."

"You'll still be able to see Constance," Elizabeth assured him. "Remember I live right down the street. You'll be able to come and go as you please."

"But your home will be my home?"

"Well, yes. That's why we're here, really. So you can bring some of your stuff with you."

"I – okay."

He really didn't mind. He couldn't. Elizabeth's house was the only one available to him at the moment, since Gramma didn't seem willing to let him come back permanently.

"Okay, so here are the rules."

Michael's shoulders tensed. He didn't like rules, not so much because they were rules but because he was sure he would end up breaking them. He always messed up, so it was sort of inevitable really.

"Relax, I only have two right now. That may change later, but right now I just want you to focus on not hurting or killing anyone or anything. Those are the most important things for me right now."

Oh. Michael was able to relax as Elizabeth had asked him to. Those weren't horrible rules at all and they were things he could remember because he never wanted to hurt anyone, it just sort of happened that way.

"I don't mean to."

"I think I believe you," Elizabeth said. "Still, it's something we're going to figure out, okay?"

"Okay. And . . . that's it?"

"For now."

"That doesn't seem too hard," Michael said and couldn't help but feel the warmth when Elizabeth smiled at him.

"I don't have anything a young boy would like at my house aside from a TV, so you need to pack up some of your stuff to take with us. Clothes, toys, games, whatever you might want."

He nodded but sat there until Elizabeth gave him leave to go. She wanted to talk to Gramma and Mallory again. ---------- Elizabeth watched Michael go up the stairs toward his room before turning to the other two women.

"How is he the anti-Christ? He's been nothing but nice and polite to me."

"You have yet to make him angry," Constance said.

"No. Mostly he's just been scared of being abandoned by me, which is understandable considering what happened yesterday."

"What happened once you took him home with you?" Mallory asked.

"There was a lot of crying. We ate pizza and watched TV. He fell asleep on the couch, and then I came over here. He was very upset when I got back because he woke up alone. He'd looked all over the house for me and when he couldn't find me, he went down into the basement and just . . . cried. That's where I found him."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't know who that man was in that thing you showed me, but it's not him. Or at least not yet. He hopefully won't ever be if I have anything to do with it. Psychologically, I think we can help him in as much as he'll allow us to."

"And if he doesn't allow us to?" Mallory asked.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean, what if he gets to a point where he no longer wants to be good? Or no longer questions why he isn't?"

She didn't know what to say. She couldn't imagine Michael any other way than he was right then.

"You've already grown attached, haven't you? It's not just because he's a boy; it's because he's Michael."

"Who is a child," Elizabeth claimed. "He's . . . there's something about him. I've always sensed it, the youngness of him, even before finding out his true age. And I feel he deserves a chance. He knows my rules. If he breaks them, then it will have been his choice and . . . I will let him go." ---------- It didn't take long for Michael to pack the things he wanted – mostly his video games and everything that went with it, and clothes because Miss Elizabeth had mentioned them – and he went back downstairs to find the three women in the living room instead of the kitchen.

Was Miss Elizabeth ready to go? He stood there, taking his cues from her. She didn't sit down, so he didn't either.

"We can leave whenever you're ready, Michael."

"Well, I'm – I was just waiting for you."

She gestured to the front door then and he went ahead of her. He stopped at the door and turned back to face his gramma.

"Goodbye, Gramma," he said. "I hope I can become what you want, so I can come back one day."

She didn't say anything, but Michael noticed that her eyes filled with water. That had to be a good sign.

He didn't know Mallory so he didn't speak to her, and he began to move again once Miss Elizabeth put a hand on his jacket-covered arm. It was her cue to let him know she was ready to go.

Once outside Michael didn't look back, not as he had the day before. He had somewhere to go now and he could visit with Gramma when he wanted. This wasn't a permanent thing; he would get control of himself. Gramma would let him back in.

"We're going to drop your stuff off at the house and then I have to go to the store. I wasn't expecting a house guest," Miss Elizabeth said. Her tone didn't lead him to believe that he was a burden in anyway. In fact, she sounded almost playful.

"Can I go with you? I've never really been to a store before."

He still wasn't too keen on being alone, being without an adult. And he really hadn't been a lot of places most people had. He'd been a baby when Gramma had first taken him from his parents – his mother had died and his father had never claimed him, so it wasn't like she'd kidnapped him or anything, really – and she'd kept him for the years it had taken him to get to the point he was now. He'd been kept in the house mostly, and he hadn't been able to go out much at all since he'd gotten bigger. How would he or Gramma explain who he was and how fast he'd grown?

"All the time you were with Constance, she never let you go to the store with her?"

Michael shrugged before swinging the bag he was holding up over his shoulder.

"Gramma never really went to the store either. There were others before you. Men mostly."

"Hm. Okay, then. And . . . how do you feel about going with me? Around people you don't know."

Michael stopped walking as he thought about it. He wasn't feeling great about it, really, but he wasn't staying by himself in that house that wasn't really his.

"I'll be with you, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I should be fine. Just don't leave me." ---------- Elizabeth owned a small Ford Focus that Michael's head almost reached the ceiling of when he was seated in it. She laughed when she realized. She should have known; he was almost a whole head taller than she was.

"Think about some stuff you like to eat on the way."

She assumed he did because he wasn't talkative at all on the way to the store. She had the music on low but she didn't think either one of them was actually listening. It was mostly just background noise for her, anyway.

She couldn't believe what she'd agreed to do. The whole anti-Christ thing aside – if that was even true; she still wasn't sure about it – she was taking in someone who was basically a child. She was agreeing to help teach him wrong from right. She had impulsively made that decision because she felt sorry for the boy sitting across from her in the passenger seat. She still kind of felt sorry for him – his grandmother had given him up easily and willingly, so of course she felt sorry for him. Everyone deserved someone that would stand by their side and fight for them. So that was what she would strive to be as long as he didn't resort to murder again.

Once at the store Elizabeth noticed just how anxious it made Michael feel to be in place where he didn't know everyone. He stuck to her side much like an actual child would its mother when around strangers. She was surprised he didn't just grab onto her arm and hide behind her. She didn't know if it was from being shy or afraid, but it was one of the two. He had social anxiety, though, that was for sure.

"Are you sure you're okay to be here?"

"I'm fine," he answered quickly.

"Mm-hm."

She grabbed a cart then began making her way further into the store. She was planning on getting only a few things, things that Michael wanted, because she had enough stuff for her already at her house.

"Do you like cereal?"

"The sweet kind," Michael answered.

"So the unhealthy kind then," she teased.

He looked down as if she had berated him and she realized just how unused to casual affection and positive reinforcement he must be if he didn't understand that she was just messing with him.

"Hey, it's okay. I don't really like cereal that isn't sweet either." She touched his arm briefly. "I'm even letting you pick it out."

He basically beamed a smile at her and she could practically feel the enthusiasm bouncing off of him at the prospect of him getting to pick out the cereal. If that was indicative to how easily it would be to make him happy and keep him that way, then she figured having him as a housemate wouldn't be hard at all.

As they walked up and down the aisles, she had Michael point out things that he liked. They couldn't get everything that day, but at least she would know in the future. She noticed that he was really into things that had a lot of sugar in it. She didn't know if that was because he was four years old or if that was just him, but she got a few things to snack on – Oreos, chocolate chip cookies, and ice cream – that was specifically for him.

She went through the check out line with more things than she had originally planned, and she was surprised when Michael helped take the bags to the car. He was actually pretty strong, which shouldn't have surprised her. He was about fifteen or sixteen physically, so the bags weren't a problem.

Once at home Elizabeth went about showing Michael where everything went in the kitchen. If he was going to be staying there, he would at least need to know where the dishes and silverware were. She would not be waiting on him hand and foot.

"Earlier you said that you didn't mean to hurt people," Elizabeth said. "What did you mean by that?"

Michael stopped what he was doing – putting the cookies on top of the fridge – and turned to her. He looked at the floor and shrugged as if he didn't know what to say.

"Is it maybe that you lash out? You get angry . . . or scared?"

Again, he shrugged, and after a few seconds he shook his head.

"It's like I go away and when I come back . . . people are dead."

"Like something else takes over?"

"Yeah."

That would explain the priest in his room, and it confirmed her exorcism theory.

"And when you come back . . . do you ever remember how you got there?"

"I don't know. I mean . . . a few nights ago I remember going to Gramma's room. I wanted to know if I could have a glass of water. I remember that, and then I went away and when I came back, I was on top of her with my hands around her neck. She was scared and I got scared and I didn't know anything else. I don't remember getting on the bed and I definitely don't remember putting my hands around her neck, but . . . that's what happened."

Constance had failed to mention that particular incident.

"Were you angry at her at all before that?"

"I mean, I was a little upset because she kept telling me what to do, but she always told me what to do."

"Like what did she tell you to do?"

"The way I speak. She doesn't like it sometimes. I sometimes say 'Can I have a glass of water?' instead of "May I?" and she corrects me every time."

Elizabeth couldn't help herself; she laughed. Constance had a kid who would kill animals and had worked his way up to people, and she was correcting his grammar? Maybe the whole family was nuts.

"That would get annoying. Not enough to choke somebody," she clarified, "but it would get annoying. And you speak very well, so . . ."

"Thank you."

"Mm-hm. Go ahead and put the cookies up. And just so you know . . . you never have to ask for a glass of water here. Or food. If you're thirsty, get something to drink. If you're hungry, get something to eat."

"Okay."

From what Elizabeth had found out that day, Constance seemed to have kept Michael very sheltered and had been very strict in some ways, but not in the ways that mattered. Michael was very polite and almost sweet, in a way, and even though she now believed he had killed at least one person, she found him at least a little innocent because of the reason he'd killed them.

Add in the fact that he didn't seem to know he was doing it when he was, in fact, doing it, she wanted to help him more than ever.

She just hoped she could.

[niceness6of9gemini]

American Horror Story Apocalypse Kai: Return to Season 1 Pt. 6

Meanwhile in a flashback during a flashback...

Michael: GRANDMA!!!

Ben: I’m sorry for your loss.

Michael: I’m a horrible person.

Ben: No you’re not.

Michael: Can you help me?

Ben: Yes.

Tate: Don’t touch the rubber suit that I clearly stole from the gay guys that are still in this house even though they can probably hear me.

Michael: But dad...

Tate: No ‘buts’ young man. And I’m not your dad.

Michael: But the other ghost here said that-

Tate: I’M NOT YOUR DAD!!! You’re evil and I won’t accept you.

Michael: But you shot up a school. Wouldn’t that make you a hypocrite?

Tate: DON’T YOU TALK BACK TO ME SON WHO ISN’T MY SON!

Ben: Take it easy on the kid I’m helping him.

Tate: Whatever. Hayden should of cut you out from Vivian’s stomach when she had the chance.

(Michael Starts Crying)

Patrick Star: Can we move it along? I’m running out of time cards.

—————————————————

Elizabeth Short: I want a bigger smile.

Michael: Ok.

(Michael murders the lesbian couple)

Ben: What the hell?!

(That appears on his forehead because Devil)

Michael: Hell exactly.

(Burns away lesbian couples from existence)

Ben: I though your not-father father was a lost cause. But I was so wrong. Wow...I just realize that none of this would of happened if I haven’t cheated on my wife. What if I’m the True Anti-Christ?

Ben: ...yep I just realized that I did deserve to die.

Saint Vivian: No you didn’t.

Ben: Vivian...I missed-

Saint Vivian: I know. Check on your still born he needs his diaper changed. I’ll finish off this here.

Ben: Ok. (Disappears)

Saint Vivian: Well, I’m Vivian Harmon. I’ve been stuck in this house with the bitch that my husband cheated on me with...so yeah he is the true Anti-Christ.

Madison: So who is Michael, really?

Saint Vivian: Let me quote a bible verse to build tension. Then cut to commercial break.

[nightcoremoon]

I swear to God my family is the WHITEST

okay so like i made an offhand joke about how the holiday is built on the back of genocide but "hey at least there's fried turkey" I managed to offend all of them because "the pilgrims didn't kill the Indians, they worked together" BITCH YOU ARE SIXTY FUCKING FOUR YEARS OLD AND YOU STILL BELIEVE THE SHIT TAUGHT IN KINDERGARTEN BACK BEFORE BLACK PEOPLE COULD RIDE THE FRONT OF A BUS. so I made another offhand comment about how "yeah the natives gave the colonizers food and in return the colonizers gave them smallpox blankets" and then my grandma Jesus Christ she said "you think that happened on purpose?" YES. I DO. BECAUSE IT WAS.

this is the same grandma that calls herself Indian because she's 1/8 Cherokee.

and

here's probably the worst part

not ten minutes later we were watching judge judy because what else are old white christian republicans gonna watch and my family gets enraptured in a conversation about how the phrase "safe space" needs to be removed from the English lexicon

I'm like

you mean the safe space you build around yourself with conservative NPR???

this isn't even to mention the anti pit bull tirade, the anti abortion junk, and oh yeah the constant threat of immense transphobia weighing over me constantly

HAPPY FUCKING THANKSGIVING EVERYONE

time to shower and eat at my mom's boyfriend's house [thankfully he's Latino and cooks really good food] before eating at my grandma's house with my bigoted family and then getting a christmas tree and meeting my dad's new girlfriend. a country girl with the same first name as my mom and same middle name as my stepmom. wow he has a type. pretty interesting for an armored closeted gay man lmao

[tturing]

i love christian imagery being used in whatever the fuck people want when i was in middle school i was obsessed with motionless in white and my grandma watched the immaculate misconception mv and gave my dad a hand written letter about the fact that i was listening to that kinda stuff and then i argued with her about it and how he actually depicts himself as christ so it's not really anti christian is it? just anti hate. and she was like well anyone can make themselves look like christ. and i said exactly

[nerodreamblog]

24 October 2020

I was the Anti-Christ I guess? But I was really nice???

And I had a grandma who looked like my partner's grandma but she spoke fluent English (she speaks Dutch and Afrikaans IRL)

I went to go visit her to get bake some cookies but a mean Christian lady was stalking me.

I had to hide out in the woods so she wouldn't see me but eventually she caught me and dragged me to this clearing where she set up this area with a white fence around it. Inside was a pool of holy water, a cross, a wooden stake, and a Byzantine looking statue of Jesus.

She threw me in the pool of holy water and I couldn't move and was barely conscious.

She said some prayers and dragged me out to hammer a stake in my heart. That jolted me awake (in the dream) and I started screaming in pain.

Grandma came to save me but the Christian lady turned her into a bear. Only that gave Grandma MORE strength and she save me but then I turned into a bear???

Then credits started rolling like at the end of a movie where my "dad" popped up (he sounded nothing like my dad) and he was also a bear.

He said "my son needs to go back home for lunch or he's fired!"

I was confused for a moment, then laughed because it was in reference to a TV show???

Then me, Dad, and Grandma all jumped off screen and the credits kept playing with a pop song playing and then I woke up.

[fmdxjerome]

hello people from old and new! naomi is back in action with her son jerome. i’ve been stuck in my sisters house for the last weeks of my absence because she went on vacation and i had to take care of a sick rabbit who peed everywhere. i might have a disease now at the amount he bit me but what can you do. im joking. you might ask “but naomi doesnt your sister have wifi” yes she do but i’m an anxious wreck so spending my days on a first floor apartment  with my sister on the other side of the world w an infected foot had me fucke d upppp boiii but now i’m back in my own home and my sister + her boyfriend are safely home!! foot all fine!! and everyone is calm again!! so!! i can return with a good heart. i’ll be sliding in the dms of the people who bear emoticon’ed me 600 years ago and bc i suck w introducing myself to new people i’ll just hi!!!!! i think when i wake up i’m gonna do a “bio reading” marathon as i write bc i need to appreciate. also shit i need more threads wow i suck might see me replying to some open starters and def need to get back to plotting bc there are some people i’ve been dying to thread with ;^;

its like 6am now so i might b heading 2 bed now but under the cut there will be a reintroduction to jerome (one i promised in januari i believe) as im rewriting his bio (no major things change really its just minor things nd its time for an upgrade) so yes! hello (ims will come tomorrow as well ;3;)

also fact. mullet daddy jaebum is jerome rn dont drag him dont @ him its gone before you know it. probs after idolized its a look tho wow i love- a chic farmer (... the short bangs are tragic tho jerome honey i kno u liked them on wren but ur not wren. jerome: but i- me: no. this this not this jerome: :( ok fine me: fuego 

anyway before i pass out here is reintroduction. the triggers are; adoption, racism themes??? like yeah ok!! apologize if this is shit. hope everyone is having a good day though you all are great!

Jerome Gauthier aka Yuddy

-Anti idol

-Has an okay reputation but that’s because he’s smart about things.

-BC eyeing him tho *eyes fake friends with good reputation for him to hang out with* (hmu for fake friend plots. funny the person w the best rep of all actually likes jerome. bless jisoos christ. guess that praying on knees worked out in the end huh jerome. /dont/ sainthood is waiting)

-Talented™. (ask him to write songs for you) (Actually have a few songs in my library i want him to write but not sing so *eyes*)

-Passionate as fuck don’t mess with him in the studio (passionate all over tbh)

-Adopted and in search of his bloodlines

-Hoe but not really

-Actually, scrap that. Nicknames him JerHOEme

-Is actually lovely

-But acts like a shit

-Slips up and is soft to people sometimes before being a complete and utter asshole the next second

-bc soft jerome whOMST i only know deMON

-Suave Fuckboy who’s nonchalant about everything

-French™

-Will call you baby at some point in your life

-Signature smirk

-Egotistic???? Narcissistic??? a lil bit don’t stroke his ego

-Secretive™. not much info on his time in france

-Secretly a dad without children (except for his actual biological son insoo aka chorizo sausage who he goes to play ball with- i mean work on songs in the studio. seriously catch him picking up his son from soccer practice i mean shit no i mean- ok insoo is really his son dont fight me on this.)

-And also has a daughter an Oriental shorthair cat called Edith who he is so soft with he kicks out girls to cuddle with her. (one meow and he’s home)

- we support WISH hating jerome in this household. please people who have girls in WISH dont let them like him (or be a rebel and go against the mothers wishes but you’ve been warned)

-Dont let him get in your pants too like ask wren you dont want that (or i mean with the list of kinks i peeped maybe idk who am i to say what your muse wants or does not want idk im just protecting people from satan)

-Unlikely he’ll get in any pants now anyway tho bc he a proud shopper at papa juliens pizza and y’all some other brand type ish domino lookin asses NAH *throws hands up* rome’s in the house (no but guys. this is his soulmate THIS IS HIM. dISgUStiNG- )

-In 2016 interview took him out of context and it looks like he hates all idol rappers but is not true. He just doesn’t like companies making rap out to be like this thing you can do if you’re pretty and you can’t sing and he doesn’t like it when said pretty idols know nothing of it. he gets the grind but will side eye (benjy nd jerome already have a rivalry bc of this shit thank u interviewer)

-Dating scandals?? EHH. He almost had one with a Japanese model called Momo in the beginning of his career but BC did well of spinning them as friends and he legit had one with his ex last october which?????????? shit she touched his *spoiler* and it was *spoiler* . BC about to ban him from fashion shows damn. yoonah and him have to go to paris fashion week quick

-BC has yet to force him into a relationship tho. but damn he gonna be angry when that ever happens yoo. 

-Studied to become a cinematographer. Now is annoying as fuck during recording MV’s bc he butts into everything (BUT thats why his his mvs so AESTHETIC. eye for beauty bois)

-Holler at ya boi if you want a nice mv he’s involved like that

-Also to the girls who have been in an MV with Jerome.. know he probably flirted with you between takes bc during he’s grade a professionalism but he still a ho

-Actual catlady no questions asked (he feeds stray cats and gets cut up by edith when she smells other cats on him rip)

-Actual wife material no questions asked (to quote the great Halit Yilmaz during that time Jerome stood in the kitchen for hours making baklava and other Turkish treats for Halit’s Eid al-Fitr: “Shit, Jerome if you were a girl i’d marry you in a heartbeat.” and its true. we would ALL marry jerome. who says no is lying. )

-Smooth™

-Ok the ego thing btw its weird its an act but hes weird about it dont ask

idk what else to write ok short rundown of his bio as again i’m writing a new one and i cringe every time i look at my old one. im probs forgetting a lot but EYO ITS 6AM WHO CARES

CHILDHOOD age 0 to 10

-Born to a single mom who got fucked over by a smash nd dash dad. (we side eye Ok Chanwook in this household.)

-Moms family discouraged her from taking care of him herself so putting up for adoption it is.

-Very emotional not ok mom boram cry a lot pls. (got v angry too like boi if she ever sees chanwook again he can change his name to no dick larry)

-Adopted by a French couple called Lucas and Daphné (previously named Annelies). pretty kool peeps

-JK racist assholes who fetishize jerome a lot. PLEASE. the yellow fever runs deep. take him away from them,

-Raised in a small town in France and knew 0 Asians growing up. so thats nice

-Loves his adoptive grandpa to death tho (who’s he named after u3u)

-Actually hates the rest lol

-Ok uncle Rémy pretty cool bc he laughs at teen!Jerome shit talking his parents and aunt Camille. She a sweety ;3; a bit odd but a sweety #stanauntCamille

-Basically the people on the Gauthier side and born from Jerome and Clemintine are ok, the rest is shit (except for his dad Lucas. He a Gauthier but he shit)

-Junior/Senior relationship w granpda ;3; “Pépé!!” “Junior!!” *tiny jerome swings around grandpa’s neck* LOVE

-Grandma passed when he was 9. (he loved her very much and would always show her his drawings on her bed ;-;)

-Hard time adjusting at first when he was a tiny toddler. had a lisp talking french. ;3; baby rome

-young jerome had a bad case of the abandonment issues he literally held onto his dads leg for like 30 minutes before the teacher finally peeled him away from him. my smol boi

-Elephants. remember this. is important. /sob

-TLDR; biological mom didnt want to loose him. adoptive parents and dad are fucks. grandpa is kool. jerome had a good childhood until he didnt. thank u ignorance

TEEN YEARS age 10 to 20

-middle school very nice

-j FUCKING KKKKK EMO JEROME INBOUNDDDD

-kids are mean. teens are mean. young!jerome v lonely

-honestly he had no friends. except for like maybe this one kid on his sport called mattheo but he kinda a weeb so uhhhh ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-the time comes that he feels uncomfortable with everything korean. he already learned korean along side french and english when he was growing up but now distances himself from further learning. he clings to french culture a lot and even to this day he refers to himself as french and european, and rarely refers to himself as korean or asian.

-feels disconnected from both though. its like.. his parents took his korean culture away from him by using it for their own amusement. it was not his to have basically. and french- a lot of people around him give the vibe he’s not “allowed” to call himself fully french. they see him as korean, korean-french but never just french. he feels very misunderstood. lack of identity and just not fitting in

-around this time (or earlier i’m musing still) his cousin Antonin (moms side) kind of fell out on him. like. wow. not good. fucked jerome up a lil. (issues intensify)

-inferiority complex inbound/ is he ok? no he isnt. he starts writing to get his emotions out.

-Blessed Freddy rolled in teen jerome’s life like: guess we need to do history homework together jerome: aren’t you gonna make a ‘do my homework bc you’re asian’ joke freddy: why would i jerome:

-they bond over music, freddy is the one who gets him serious about getting into it (we thank our lord freddy for this gift of life we call singer/songwriter jerome. pray to freddy 10 times a day *srry jisoos christ but ur out*)

-literally young jerome would be a great soundcloud artist in this day and age. he was like joji meets rei brown with more of an rnb tinge. he liked ambient because it calmed him.

-in his old bio thats still up bc im a slow writer his old name was some dumb shit like l.only DUMB its romeles now (get it.. jeROME LESlie gauthier. im smart)

-OK IM GONNA GO QUICKER NOW

-eMO FOR A LONG TIME BC OF LONELINESS AND OTHERING FREDDY IS HIS BEACON OF HOPE WE LOVE FREDDY IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!!!!!!!

-had a big ass fall out with his parents when he was around 15? was like “UHHH FUCK Y’ALL” and moved in with his grandpa (he was very disrespectful like damn boy but you know what. i support)

-best decision of his life because grandpa v lonely after his wife died and Jerome^2 is… so soft.

-Jerome dancing/singing to old tunes and being engrossed with old movies

-Learning how to cook ;3;

-I mean bc his middle and highschool were in Laval he spend a lot of his time w his grandpa already so he already had a bed and ;-; #jerome^2

-Halit rolls into his life. Braces, huge smile, lil prepubescent stash ohmygod. My child.

-BLANC is born. Freddy/Jerome/Halit’s musical trio. Stan the Three Musketeers

-Found his first best friend and a purpose in Freddy. Found a home in Halit. (sob)

-Finds solace in rnb and hiphop. People start noticing him because of it. Writes songs and performs them in café’s. Found his niche. 15 to 19 where his “best”  years

-THE BIG MOVE. After a concerned halit mom, a proud freddy mom and a “WHAT THE FUCK JEROME NO DONT GO” jerome mom they pack their bags and PARIS HERE WE COME

-Enter ex who haunts his life, Seo Yumi aka Marie (now model, v pretty, makes me cry)

-Spots her in the summer doing yoga in the park and boi he an assman so he got fucked up (jk he saw her face and was like wHAT love at first sight

-enrolls in film school, meets her there again and wow falls in love hard like wow calm down boy

-Dating~~~v possessive not good at ALL cALM DOWN JEROME

-ok he got his issues nd marie was the first one who openly listened to his problems and understood and made him appreciate his korean heritige bc she’s korean and showed him cultural aspects without the gross fetishizing that came with his parents and he just- he got intense ok. he already got a v intense personality so- still not good tho he needs to dial it down

-she thought so too and like after a year she was !!!! what the fuck. she is not one for serious relationships but jerome was like ehhh why not in the beginning its v nice to hear nd be seen as the most beautiful ok but then it got suffocating but instead of breaking up with him she kept him around. he a safe haven ya know. reliable. someone to built on later. *i wanna say she also didnt break up w him because his emo stories but marie,,, eh...* (funny tho like she got a thing for bad boys so she just “this is the fifth time you called me beautiful just degrade me lil like choke me idk” and jerome just “w-why would i do that you’re beautiful i dont want to hurt you” ah *looks into the future* ohhowthetableshaveturned.mp4 )

-Marie cheated on him the second she got the chance which was when jerome went to america w his bros

-Got offered a job as a songwriter when in ny. Wouldnt think he’d take it but after getting kicked out of school for beating the shit out of the guy marie cheated on him with and with marie out of the picture nothing held him back from starting a new life.

-TLDR; emo era. silver era. emo era 2 emo harder

ADULTHOOD age 20 to now

-Seoul make way for the rise of YUDDY™

-the name yuddy is from the film days of being wild. the character is kinda yuddy-ish too so he saw the film again and yep. thats my name

-Fuck_love.mp3

-Visits his orphanage. they like “nah boi u aint got no papers boi”

-Parents can give him access to his birthmother btw, aren’t doing it lol

-EMO

-Drinks. Sleeps around. Gets a reputation. You kno how it is. (gr8 ride tho. highly recommend. 5 out of 5 stars on yelp)

-SMASH ND DASH. Chanwook is that u??????

-One girl who he got with multiple times reminded him of Marie tho and that fucked him up for a bit (PSST ITS A PLOT WINK SO IF YA GIRL OF AGE IN THE 2013′S HMU BC ITS DRAMATIC HE GHOSTED THE SHIT OUT OF HER)

-Writes a lot of songs, a few for BC (knight baes). BC like *eye emoji* who dat boi who him iz

-Gets sign w BCreate and is like eyy life pretty good

-but lmao he debut and oh who’s that pretty girl promoting that lipstick?? oh.. its marie ;3;

-imfine.jpeg

-Joins main label and literally joins w a blessing stream limbo on spotify

-wgm era was a great era of jerome lmty his hair was great, shared cute personal things, manager was happy, slept with his best friend, was married to a sweet beautiful girl ya know the good stuff  👍 no im not crying you are

-triple fantasy era was awful we dont talk about that he looked like his brother and i’m still emotional about him wow. 

-instagram is a great song

-Interviewer: u mention an ex in ur song tell me more Jerome: *SWEATS*  

-Marie: my short hair DOES look pretty thank u babe ur red hair was cute too <3<3

-The fact she linked to him now is spook

-But ok he still flirty, still daring, still yuddy™ but definitely less of the whole “sleeping around” thing now bc he… he uhh closetoyou.mp3

TLDR; he turned into his dad but romeo is rising AND HE IS SCARED!!!!!

also never forget jerome is the messiest king in this ok non y’all are as messy as him. he fucked his ex’s friend oK THERE IS NOTHING MORE MESSY. dONT COME FOR HIS CROWN

[notsosecret-transgirl]

Ok! So, three types of churches I’ve seen.

1. Fire and brimstone church: My grandma was a congregant for a lot of her life and brought me along a couple times. (I was 10 so take this with a grain of salt) the reason it’s known as fire and brimstone is actually quite simple. They tend to focus on the wrath of God. Sodom and Gomorrah, revelations, end of days type stuff. The reason they focus on this is also quite simple. You must fear god to love god. That fear is essential to them to keep congregants in line with scripture, and, outside of church, keep them scared of change and sinners. These hardline churches tend to have equally hardline conservatives in the congregation. Why is that? Because conservatism uses those same tactics that these churches do. Keeping you scared of change and the other (sinners in this case).

2. Very cool and chill churches: these churches do not tend to linger on sinning or punishment. Sermons are generally focused on the kindness and love of others, and how to make it right if you have sinned, beyond just absolving the sin through asking forgiveness. Do not judge, do not be cruel, do not assume you know best. Only Christ can know best, we can only try to be more like him. So basically an admission that, even while sinning, you can still try your best to be kind, and god will forgive you if you ask.

3. Centrist churches: these are probably the weirdest ones, to me at least. It’s somewhat of a mix between the two. I came out as queer in the time I was at one of these churches, and I remember that basically my whole friend group there talked to me one by one and asked me to reconsider my life choices and how my sin could damn me. Never with anger, like the hardline churches, but just concern. And that, right there is what fucks me up about those churches. It not outright in your face hatred, I’ve dealt with plenty of that, but instead the feeling that you are now outside the community. That you’ve betrayed the whole community and yourself for being other. It’s not a whip that keeps you in line there, it’s a simple nudge. It gets you inside your own head until you truly believe that you just need to shut that part of you down. They speak of kindness and love but talk of sinners is always done with a wince and a shake of the head. I asked my youth pastor about my brother coming out as trans and he said to hate the sin love the sinner, but how can you hate trans ness and love and respect trans people? It’s a kind of “it’s ok to hate, just don’t make it known to those people” vibe I got.

So, that last bit was kinda personal but let’s get to the real shit. Churches trade in power, fear, and respect, but each has their own mix of it. With fire and brimstone places, you fear the almighty power of a god who could strike you down and if he does then that was right and proper for him to do so (see the AIDS epidemic and the Christian response to it) and that leads to patterns of thought like might makes right, leaders must be strong and violently oppose change if necessary, and, in the end, lends itself to a self assured racist, homophobic and transphobic mindset. We aren’t long past the days of sermons dealing with the evils of black people and we still regularly see anti-queer propaganda on the pulpit.

Also, I wanted to answer the question about why hardline christians tend to say that others aren’t real christians. Sin and the penance paid for said sin. In a lot of cool and slightly less cool churches, the penance paid for sin is as simple as asking god forgiveness. Hardliners tend to see this as cheating yourself. If you loath the sin then the sinner is worse. Simply asking forgiveness isn’t enough, you pray for hours, on your knees, and feel terribly guilty about everything. The prayer absolves the sin, but it isn’t about forgiveness to them, it’s the suffering that matters, we see this all the way back to the beginning of Christianity. Self flagellation was a common penance, literally self harming. The suffering is important for two reasons as far as I can tell. If a lifetime of sin can be washed away in an instant, what has that changed? But guilt, on the other hand, sticks with you, makes you think twice, even if you still do it, to the point that making sure you don’t sin and others don’t sin is paramount. And two, suffering is integral to the story of Christ. Every one of his struggles is a lesson to him, plus, how did he wash away all of humanities sin? The ultimate sacrifice. So the thinking is less “I’m a terrible human for sinning” and more “I have sacrificed so much of my time and well-being to get right with god, so others must suffer in the same way to be a truly good person.” suffering=penance=only way to be right with god. So yeah suffering and goodness are very interlinked in Christianity, and the more hardline you go, the more suffering you must endure to assure you aren’t on the coal cart.

I will forever be baffled by why some people want strict rules and taboos in Norse heathenry.

[americanhorrorbatch]

Rebirth of Light & Dark 6/?

♛ I recommend reading the Christmas special before this ♛

I went to the church and walked inside. There was a nun there praying up at the alter. “Excuse me, miss?” I ask and she turns around wide eyes and a smile on her face. “Oh by heavens, it’s you! We have waited such a long time for your birth and for you to actually be here is... Oh my lucky stars! I am getting ahead of myself. You are here to speak with Pope Francis, correct?” She spoke excitedly. “Yes, I am.” I smile at her. “Alright, follow me and I will take you to him.” she smiles.

We walk in to the back down this long hall and on the right there was a room. The Nun knocked. “ Father, she’s here.” She smiles. “Send her in.” He says and the Nun opens the door. I saw the Pope talking to two women. 

“Mom?... Grandma?...”

“Hello, Y/N.” Grandma smiles. “Why are you guys here?” I question. “Same, reason why your here. Answers.. about you that boy you brought home for Christmas.” Mom explains. “Please sit and I will explain everything.” The pope says pointing to the chair next to my mother. I look over at my grandmother and could tell she does not want to be here but wants answers as well.

“You and Michael were both born on the same day in March. He was born out of pain and darkness. While you were born from love and light.” The Pope explains. “Father, just because he was born from pain and darkness does not mean we have to kill him. Can’t there be another way to lead him to the light?” I ask. “He is the Anti Christ, Y/N. His very existence is to bring an end to all living life. We must stop him before he kills us all.” He explains.

 “Isn’t part of the 10 commandments ‘Thou shall not kill’?” 

“Yes, it is but-”

“Yes Father, it is his birth right to kill us but does that mean he wants to? Michael is just a chess piece lost and looking for love. What, if you were him and you so desperately wanted to be good, and we were trying to kill you. How would you feel? Would that push you to want to kill us before we could kill you? You should put yourself in his shoes. Didn’t Jesus say ‘Do to others as you would have them do to you’?” 

“Yes, he did. You did not come to train and learn. You came for advice to save Michael Langdon’s surely damned soul...?”

“I have..” 

“Only you know how to save him. I do not.” He tells me.

“Then I will leave thank you for your advice Father.” I smile getting up. “Goodbye Mom, Grandma.” I say leaving. 

“Y/N, wait...”

“Yes, mom?”

“I need to tell you something outside. About your father...” She says. “Why not here?” I ask. “Trust me.. not here...”

Her and I walked outside. “What is it?” 

“You know how Michael Langdon has two fathers?” 

“Yes?”

“You have only one... No I was not the virgin Mary where I woke up and was pregnant with you...”

“What are you saying?”

“I had gotten in to a car crash 9 months before you were born. I died on the table for a few minutes before they had brought me back.... When I had died I went to heaven and that’s when I met your father. He looked down at me as his arch angel Michael read my good deeds and his other arch angel Gabriel read my bad deeds. While your father looked down at me with a smile on his face. He asked if I wanted to live or die. I told him I didn’t know. I was there for a year or so. He asked me again do I want to live or die. I told him I want to live. Even though it was peaceful there I wanted to have a child. A family of my own. He gave me a proposition I shall live and give birth to his child." Mom explains.

"Mom that makes zero sense. How could you have been there a year or so and have me 9 months after your accident?" I question.

"Time works differently there a year or so is only 3 minutes here.... I loved- love your father. He gave me you. He had truly won my heart. I can't wait to see him again."

"Mom, your not?"

"I have stage 4, leukemia..."

I tried not to cry. "That's why you never picked us up for Christmas. You were at your doctors appointment. "

"Yes, I didn't want to worry you." She smiles. "Oh, mommy." I cry hugging her. "Go to him, Y/n. Tell him how you feel." She tells me and I nod and run back to the academy. I packed up my stuff. I was going to join Michael. I was trying to look for Cordelia and Queenie to say goodbye. "Where's Cordelia?" I ask. "Burning the traitors."

Burning the traitors...? Oh no...

♛ Michael Langdon P.O.V ♛

No, no, no… I was too late. Those damned witches killed Ms. Mead. Did she know?! She couldn’t have?! My heart broke and I let out a scream in pain and agony. “Michael...” A voice says behind me. I turned around and saw Y/N. “You bitch, did you know?!” I screamed as I gripped her throat. “N-Nghhh.” She chokes. “Michael, let her go it’s over.” Cordelia says. “And why should I listen to you?! What’s stopping me from snapping her fucking neck like a twig right now!” I shout squeezing my beloved’s neck harder. I didn’t want to kill her but if she knew about this I wanted her to suffer.

“I said let her go! It’s over!” Cordelia shouts and swung her hand and used her powers to have Y/n appear behind her. “M-Michael...” Y/n cries with such despair in her quivering voice. My heart quenched even more when I realized she didn’t know after all and I just hurt her.

♛ Y/n P.O.V ♛

“We know who you are. Your allies are all dead. You failed.” Cordelia says. “I already proven to you that I can defy death. I’ll just bring her back. And when I do, my Ms. Mead will stand by me as we watch you die.” Michael hisses. “You can certainly go to hell but you won’t find her there.”

“What have you done?” His voice breaks.

 “Her soul is hidden by a spell only I can break. You’ll never see her again. You’re alone.”

“I’m never alone. I have my father.”

“Where is he now? Why did he allow this to happen? You don’t have to follow this path your father has laid out for you. You can make your own path. You can still turn away. There is humanity in you. I see it. If you come with me- with Y/n. maybe we can find it. together.” Cordelia explains holding her hand out for his. “Michael...” I mumble and he looks at me with pained eyes then back at Cordelia. He grabbed her hand and stood up. He pulled her close. “Somehow, Someway, I am gonna bring her back. Then I’m gonna I’m gonna kill every last one of you.” He pulled away and looked at me. 

“You still do not want to come with me?”

♛ Hey let me know if she should go with him and she tries to save him towards the light or if she should stay with Cordelia and them. I mean either way she is gonna end up with him. I am leaning towards staying with Cordelia but I don’t know.♛

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@buckynlarry

@gracethegeek9902

@athenamalfoywinchester

@mysticalavengers

@lustlangdon

@cosmiclunas

@hadesnewpersephone

@queenie435

Let me know if I forgot to tag you or you want to be tagged!

[glittergummicandypeach]

News Flash: Christian Supporters of Kenosha Killer are Christians | Religion Dispatches

With white evangelicals, America’s most pro-Trump demographic, currently in the news for sex scandals, committing violence, and defending violence, we once again find the meaning of Christianity being debated in the public sphere. The Christian crowdfunding site GiveSendGo is under fire, as it should be, for hosting a campaign to raise money for the legal defense of Kenosha, Wisconsin killer Kyle Rittenhouse after the seventeen-year-old domestic terrorist slaughtered two Black Lives Matter protesters and wounded a third with an assault rifle he was not legally old enough to possess in the state of Wisconsin.

As Roxanne Stone reports for RNS, Episcopal Reverend Nathan Empsall claims GiveSendGo’s hosting of a fundraiser for Kyle Rittenhouse is contrary to Christian values. Referring to the famous Beatitude “Blessed are the Peacemakers,” Empsall, whose organization Faithful America is hosting a petition to GiveSendGo to take the fundraiser down, reportedly said, “Crossing state lines to take up arms against Black Lives Matter is not making peace. And it’s certainly not siding with the oppressed or the marginalized.”

Liberal Twitter was also quick to jump on the bandwagon of questioning the Christian faith of those who support Rittenhouse.

As a Christian I'm horrified to hear that a so called "Christian" site raised $275,000 for accused killer Kyle Rittenhouse.

How can someone call themselves a Christians and support a killer?

— Grandma Grit (@grandmagrit) September 1, 2020

“Christian” fundraising site @GiveSendGo has earned over $250,000 for #Kenosha killer Kyle Rittenhouse.

So #evangelicals have gone from turning a blind eye to #racism to raising money for a murderer? And if you’re pro-life, why raise money for a killer? https://t.co/ije0yRKY3o

— AprilDRyan (@AprilDRyan) August 31, 2020

— Speak4tomorrow (@Speak4Tomorrow) August 30, 2020

Meanwhile, GiveSendGo cofounder Jacob Wells defended his decision to host the fundraiser, and told Stone, “as a platform, everything we do and what our platform delivers is Christ-centered.” I, for one, take him at his word—GiveSendGo is Christ-centered, with respect to how Wells and the numerous donors to Kyle Rittenhouse’s legal defense fund understand Christ. Further, I maintain that those of us who insist on adjudicating the Christianity of others in the public sphere are only serving to reinforce the Christian supremacism that is so baked into American society that too often we don’t even notice it.

This Christian supremacism, however, which is very much white Protestant inflected, overlaps heavily with white supremacism. Inasmuch as the two are intertwined, it’s impossible to dismantle the one without tackling the other. It may seem like an innocent reaction on the part of progressive Christians to denounce their authoritarian coreligionists as “fake Christians” or “not following the teachings of Jesus,” but it’s neither innocent nor accurate, as I have previously discussed on my blog and at Playboy.

The Jesus portrayed in the Bible is a complex and contradictory figure, and there’s nothing resembling a universal consensus among Christians about how to interpret the teachings attributed to him. Christianity has, since the fourth century, frequently gone hand in hand with imperial power, and the existence of liberationist strains of the faith does not negate the existence of these punitive, power-grabbing strains. 

Finally, when Christians deflect from addressing the bad behavior of other Christian individuals and groups by writing them out of “true” Christianity, they’re essentially equating Christianity with goodness at the direct expense of nonbelievers and religious minorities who are afforded no equivalent deference. Christians are as capable of atrocities as members of any group and adherents of any ideology, and so long as polite American society proceeds as if this isn’t the case, polite American society is complicit in the normalization of Christian extremism.

I asked Jeremy Forest Price, assistant professor of education and chair of the Jewish Faculty and Staff Council at Indiana University – Purdue University Indianapolis, to weigh in on this issue from his Jewish perspective. He expressed concern with how refusing to understand that “true” Christians can commit horrible deeds “denies the violence Christians have committed—in the past and in the present—in the name of Christianity.” 

He also observed that this denial “collapses the world into ‘true Christian’ (good) and ‘not true Christian’ (bad), so that anyone who is not Christian is lumped into the ‘bad’ category,” adding that this “flattens Christianity and denies the diversity that is inherent within Christianity.” 

Further, Price maintains, “When this happens, because of the power and status of (white) Christians, the diversity of others’ traditions, beliefs, and practices is also flattened into ‘not Christian,’ reinforcing the idea of good versus bad.”

Let me be clear: it is deplorable that GiveSendGo is lending its platform to a fundraiser for Rittenhouse—a fundraiser that as of this writing has raised over $330,000. But the fact that the actions of those behind the site and those donating to Rittenhouse are deplorable doesn’t make these actions in any empirical sense “un-Christian.” Such categories can really only be debated internally, within the realm of Christian theology, and debating theology in the public sphere is counterproductive. 

As an ex-evangelical, however, let me assure you that evangelicals find all sorts of biblical justifications for their misogyny, racism, and anti-LGBTQ animus. In any case, as far as our pluralistic society is concerned, both mainline critics of GiveSendGo like Empsall, and those Christians who support violence against people protesting for racial justice, are Christians.

In stating this, I am in no way defending the authoritarian Christianity in which I was raised; I am instead maintaining that Christianity is far from always benign. The very fact that I have to spell this out explicitly is as much a reflection of the extent to which Christian supremacism pervades American society as is the fact that we spend so much time debating Christian theology in the public square. If we want to move forward toward a more robustly democratic, pluralist future, we must “resist the temptation” to shout Fake Christians! when we come across toxic Christianity.

This content was originally published here.