#satan x ms. accord

[puyopuyoconfessions]

I dunno if shipping stuff is allowed here, but I kinda like the idea of SatAccord (Satan x Ms. Accord)

(Shipping is totally allowed, btw!)

[puyoconfessions]

I don’t know why, but I really love the idea of SatAccord.

(Image Source)

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.VIII: These Paths We Walk

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, light Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, gore and blood, some satanic themes, etc. 

word count: 7,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Necromancy is a form of spiritual divination in which the executioner acts in the summoning of and communication with the lost souls of the dead. Its origins date back to the ancient Greeks, as the word necromancy is composed of Greek terms νεκρός (nekrós), "dead," and μαντεία (manteía), "divination." During the European Middle Ages, necromancy grew to be associated with black magic by traditional witches. As a result, its practice became strictly forbidden due to its disruption in the balance of nature. History recalls only one powerful witch ever held the ability to raise the dead at will—

“Still doing research for that special project?” Your mind snaps back to reality at the sudden inquiry. Tearing your gaze from the textbook, you look up to find none other than your favorite student in front of your desk. Hyunjin offers his usual crooked smile at your newfound attention and raises a questioning eyebrow. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes before answering, “You know the point of a study period is to���I don’t know—study? Preferably by yourself?”

He snickers. “I have a question that requires your extensive mastery in the literary arts, Ms. (L/N).”

“I’m sure you do.” You release a heavy sigh, not bothering to voice your annoyance at the use of your surname. Instead, you deliver Hyunjin a shake of your head before gesturing his continuance with a wave of your hand.

“I’m a little confused by the ending of The Grapes of Wrath,” Hyunjin pauses, “okay—a lot confused. I mean, why would Rose of Sharon breastfeed a stranger she literally just met? It’s weird…” 

You chuckle at his scrunched expression. “You’re right. It is pretty weird.” 

“So why’d she do it?” 

“Well, Rose of Sharon knew the stranger was starving to death,” You begin, leaning back in your chair to better hold Hyunjin’s gaze, “so you could say she wanted to give him a second chance.” 

“But why? She doesn’t even know him.” 

“Maybe not, but if you had the ability to save another person’s life—be it a stranger—wouldn’t you?” 

“But even after all her and her family went through, I don’t understand how she was able to find it in herself to do that. Especially after the loss of her baby.” 

“Humanity is a complicated, yet beautiful force, Hyunjin.” You hum gently, “Even among all the cruelty, hatred and hopelessness, it still manages to find a way to prevail—that ending is proof that against all odds, humanity will always win.”  

“I never thought about it like that…” Hyunjin shakes his head in disbelief, “Thanks, (Y/N)...” 

“It’s what I do, kiddo.” 

While the student grows silent to scribble down his realizations, you take the time to skim over your own notes—or lack-there-of, that is. 

After Youngjae agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, to assist you in your mission to return Jackson Wang to the land of the living, you spent the past few days cornering the bookstore and mausoleum’s supply of resources about raising the dead. But just your luck, every text thus far has proven to be less than helpful. According to the siphoner, necromancy is one of the more rare magical arts that is only practiced by specialized, powerful witches, which, unfortunately, also means there is limited access to such information. Neither you nor Youngjae have been able to find a spell or ritual that can guarantee Jackson’s resurrection without some kind of dire consequence. 

Who knew magic could be so complicated? 

“You know, you’ve been out for the past week…” You lift your head to meet Hyunjin’s gaze once again. “Is… Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry, but it’s just so unlike you to miss any classes…” 

The typical university student probably wouldn’t give a damn about a missing professor, much less an absent TA. Hyunjin’s visual apparent concern spreads warmth throughout your chest—you are powerless to hold back the small smile that stretches across your lips. 

“A couple of my roommate’s friends disappeared out of the blue last week, so I just needed a few days to help her out.” You raise a playful eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you missed me?” 

“What? No way.” Hyunjin scoffs, “Though I did have to use Sparknotes for the past few reading assignments and barely passed Wednesday's quiz—” You burst into laughter, reeling your companion into the same fit only seconds later. After a brief moment, Hyunjin manages to collect his composure and finish, “—I am glad everything is okay… and that you’re back.” 

You nod with a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Aside from the daily meetings with Youngjae and nightly cry-piles with Sana, the past few days have proven to be quite uneventful. Jackson has not appeared in your bedroom since that first night, and true to your word, you haven’t told Mark about your quest for his revival. God knows what kind of Hell would break loose if that were to happen. You also haven’t visited the Prime residence since the day you caught Jaebeom with his drop dead—mind the pun—gorgeous vampire conquest. You’ve been meaning to call Jinyoung, but between your hours pilfering through useless research texts, comforting your distraught roommate and attempting to track down your M.I.A. best friend, you haven’t quite found the time. 

And though you’d never admit it to anyone, you needed some time alone—to think.

A rather obnoxious bout of laughter tears you from your thoughts, which is quickly followed by a scold from Professor Park. In an attempt to find the source, you peer past Hyunjin’s form and the sea of other students to the very back of the classroom where a group of young girls are utilizing the period as social hour. Amongst the familiar faces sits a pretty female student you don’t quite recognize, having never encountered her around campus before.

And although you can barely see her, something about her demeanor seems… off. 

“Hyunjin? Who’s that girl back there?” 

Hyunjin turns to examine the subject of interest before returning with a shrug, “According to my sister, she’s some exchange student from Taiwan. I haven’t met her, but I think Yeji said her name is Tzuyu.”

“And she transferred here this week?” 

He shakes his head. “Actually, today is the first day anyone has seen her.”

You go to inquire further, but the booming call of Professor Park announcing the end of class beats you to it. Hyunjin bids you one final thank you and a goodbye before sprinting off to meet his friends at the classroom exit. It is not until him, Professor Park and the remainder of the students are long out the door do you return to your research. However, the moment you manage to relocate your place, a sugary-sweet voice commands your attention once again:

“If I could bother you for a moment, Ms. (L/N), I need your help…” 

“Of course.” You mask your annoyance with as genuine a smile as you can muster and turn your gaze to the student. “What can I do for…” Your smile immediately falters at the sight of the young woman from earlier in front of your desk—only in this instance, you can definitely recognize her… 

It’s none other than Miss Aphrodisiac herself from the Project Estate. 

She offers a radiant smile, but the feature seems less than friendly. 

“Hello again, (Y/N). I don’t believe we properly met during our last meeting… I’m Tzuyu.” 

“Yeah, um, I-I wasn’t expecting to see you in my class…” You chuckle nervously, cautiously sliding your notes inside your book before closing the cover. “What… What are you doing here exactly?” 

“With how much the student body rants and raves about their newest teaching assistant, how could I pass up the opportunity to see you in action?” Tzuyu elegantly takes a seat on the edge of your desk before running her fingers through her flawless, auburn locks. Something about the dexterity of her fingers sends goosebumps budding across your skin. “Plus, it’s not everyday I meet one of Jaebeom’s… human companions.” 

“It’s not like that.” You insist, “Jaebeom and I barely know each other—”

“Ah. Right.” She giggles, “You’re close with the other brother. My mistake.” 

You bite your tongue, holding back the snide comment that would likely lead to the dismembering of your head from your body. Instead, you swallow what little remains of your pride, rise from your seat and ask stiffly, “You said you needed help with something?...” 

“You’ve read Macbeth, haven’t you?” Filled with both anxiety and confusion, you watch as Tzuyu takes a pencil from the container of writing tools perched on the surface of your desk. She twirls the utensil between delicate fingertips, gazing at it as if it is the most interesting object on the planet. You don’t need your gut to remind you something is most definitely off with her behavior.

“There’s this one piece of advice that Lady Macbeth tells her husband before he goes off to commit murder: ‘Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t’... ” She pauses, “Tell me, Ms. (L/N)... What exactly could that mean?” 

Your blood runs cold when she fixes her dark gaze on you. No longer interested in the pencil. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to ground the frantic beating of your heart before it literally leaps from your chest and into the palms of your company. Out of instinct, you chance a quick glance at the door—you may not have a mug, but a nine-hundred page, hardcover book to the face might make a pretty good distraction. 

“Hm, I suppose you’re more of an expert with prose.” Tzuyu says, lowering the pencil into her lap before hopping to her own feet. “Let’s try a bit of Frankenstein then…” 

She begins to stalk toward you, her eyes still locked onto yours like a vice. Your body immediately shuffles backward, attempting to keep as much distance between yours forms as possible. You only get so far—your back meeting the surface of the wall behind you as Tzuyu centers herself a few mere inches away. You can feel her crisp breath on your face as she murmurs:  

“‘I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, then I will indulge the other’...” 

“What are you—” 

Before you can finish your thought, a searing pain paints your vision white. The agony spreads through your veins like wildfire, stealing every ounce of oxygen from your lungs and rendering your knees weak. With a trembling hand, you’re able to save your form from buckling completely to the floor—but not before catching a glimpse of the same pencil impaled in the side of your waist. 

“Poetry is much more tasteful, in my opinion.” Tzuyu sighs, licking the blood from her nails as she backs away. You want to say something—scream and call her a plethora of less than appropriate names—but your mind is literal mush between the shock and the excruciating pain. You collapse to the floor with a breathy gasp, cupping your bleeding side with your opposite hand.

The vampire saunters toward the exit. Just as she makes it to the doorway, she whirls around to throw one final innocent smile in your direction: “Do us both a favor and stay away from Jaebeom… I wouldn’t want to scar that pretty face.” 

With that, she’s completely gone. If it weren’t for the pencil in your midriff and the blood seeping through your clothes, you would have thought you’d dreamt up the entire encounter. 

“Shit…” You gasp, attempting to dislodge the wood from your flesh. It doesn’t budge, deeply embedded between what you assume to be your ribcage. A pained wheeze spills from your throat as you reach for your bag, paying little mind to the bloodied prints your fingers leave in the fabric. After numerous attempts and anguished movements, you manage to fish your cell phone from its pocket. Crimson smears across the screen as you pull up the first contact you can think of. 

You really should have taken the rest of the week off.

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

From his perch behind a tree, Jinyoung silently stalks the movement of a burly stag as it parades across the forest floor. The creature, unknowing of the predator that hunts from a far, approaches a wild berry bush and begins to feast off its bearings—unknowing that its end is fast approaching. 

Jinyoung usually does not like to draw out these moments and would have killed the deer by now. Whether it is due to the absence of his physical strength or the tornado of thoughts tearing through his mind, he simply cannot bring himself to end the animal’s life just yet. There’s something so pure about watching the stag go about its existence, he realizes—he must allow its innocence to prevail a little while longer.

It’s been days since his recovery from the huntress’s attack, but he can still sense the weakness lingering in his bones. While Jaebeom’s blood chased away the fever of the wolf venom, it was not enough to regenerate his body to its full power. If he were to do so, he would need human blood… but that can never happen again. Not in this lifetime.

Animal blood keeps him mobile, and that is more than enough.  

A loud snap of breaking branches returns Jinyoung to reality in time to watch the stag tear off into the trees. He makes no move to chase after it, not desiring to waste his strength. After one final glance to his escaped meal, Jinyoung turns and greets the approaching figure with a tight frown:

“I already told you, hyung. I have no interest in accompanying you on a hunt into town.” 

“You know, it would be a hell of a lot easier than tracking down food out here…” Jaebeom snickers, “Not to mention, one human equals a dozen squirrels.” 

“And as I said, I much prefer the squirrels.” Jinyoung meets Jaebeom’s gaze with a heavy sigh, “I am perfectly fine, hyung.” 

“You’re a shitty liar.” Jaebeom shakes his head. “You need human blood.” 

“What I need is to find a new fare.” Jinyoung pushes off of his perch to traipse deeper into the forest, but the appearance of a hand on his shoulders halts his pace. He allows Jaebeom to maneuver his form back against the trunk of a tree, welcoming the slight relief the support brings to his muscles. He makes sure to keep his expression blank to mask his instability. But like always, Jaebeom sees straight through him. 

“You’re weak, Jinyoung…” 

“Nothing a nice rabbit can’t fix.”

Jaebeom purses his lips. “You can’t deny it forever. At least try a blood bag—”

“Why did you give me your blood?” Jinyoung interrupts his companion’s lecture, peering at Jaebeom with unwavering, unblinking eyes. “I thought you wished to punish me?”

“I was going to—I mean, I wanted to…” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom very carefully, noting the frivolous nature of his typically cocky features and hidden message behind his gaze. If he knew any better, Jinyoung would actually believe there to be some shred of humanity left behind those dark irises. 

“But you couldn’t.” He finishes.

“Don’t think it means you’re off the hook for working with Tuan.” Jaebeom huffs while taking a few paces backward. Jinyoung opens his mouth to respond, but the hybrid’s hushed murmur emerges instead, “(Y/N) came by last week… to see you.” 

Jinyoung holds back a smile. “Did she now?... I suppose you told her about your change of heart then.” 

Jaebeom remains silent. 

“Jaebeom-hyung…” Jinyoung’s eyes flutter shut as an audible exhale blows past his lips, “You need to tell her.” 

“It won’t change anything.” Jaebeom says with a frown, “She made it very clear that she already hates me.” 

“(Y/N) is much different than others, hyung—” 

“What do I care anyway?” The hybrid tsks, his sullen expression transitioning into one of indifference. “She can hate me as much as she wants. I don’t give a shit.” 

“Hyung, please—”   

The shrill ring of a cell phone introduces a bout of silence. Jinyoung has never been so annoyed by modern technology since now, grabbing his phone with a less than pleased sigh. He eyes Jaebeom while lifting the device to his ear, wordlessly communicating that the conversation is far from over.

“Hello?”

“Jinyoung?... H-Hey, it’s me.” 

“(Y/N)?” Jinyoung’s annoyance completely dissipates at the sound of your quivering voice. He notices how Jaebeom also reacts to your audible presence through the stiffening of his broad shoulders. He shakes it off as unease from your previous encounter and focuses back onto you, “Are… you alright? You seem a bit stressed.” 

“Yeah, you can c-call it that…” Your inhale picks up over the line, and Jinyoung cannot help but grow concerned by its unusual heaviness. “You are not going to believe the shitty day I’ve had.” 

“What happened?” 

“Well, the barista at my campus cafe accidentally made my usual decaf, my boss is seeking revenge for my time off through hundreds of ungraded essays… and I was stabbed… with a pencil.” 

Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “I apologize, but I don’t think I understand…” 

“Long story short, Jaebeom’s scary, yet incredibly sexy girlfriend paid me a visit and literally stabbed me with a fucking pencil—” Your explanation cuts out into a yelp, which is followed by an array of stuttered curses, “And it—shit—hurts like hell.” 

“I’m on my way right now” Jinyoung, heart racing and head spinning, forces himself to his feet and hurries back toward the manor—Jaebeom hightailing close behind, having picked up the entire conversation. 

Before Jinyoung can inquire more about your condition, Jaebeom snatches the phone from his grasp and lifts it to his own, “Where did she stab you?” 

“Jaebeom?... My-My side… The pencil is wedged between my ribs, I can’t get it out…” 

“Don’t worry about removing it. Just try to control the bleeding as best you can.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I will be there soon.” 

“Wait! Why are you—” Your voice cuts out as Jaebeom ends the call. Jinyoung notices the whiteness of the hybrid’s knuckles as he silently returns his phone. If it were any other situation, Jinyoung would have brought up their chat from earlier, but your wellbeing is on the line.  He delivers his companion a dark glare. To his surprise though, Jaebeom’s expression mirrors that of pure, unadulterated anger. 

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose before releasing a sigh, “Do I even wish to know why your mistress attacked (Y/N)?” 

“I’d like to know too,” Jaebeom scoffs, running a hand through his jet black locks, “considering I told her that (Y/N) was off limits.” 

“You find out then.” Jinyoung hisses, “Or I will deal with her myself, and I won’t be as kind.” 

“Oh, trust me.” Jinyoung can practically sense the murderous lust spilling from Jaebeom’s pitch black irises—far from the light of humanity. “Kindness is the last thing on my list right now, Jinyoungie.”  

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she just acts all innocent! As if she did absolutely nothing wrong! I mean, what kind of self-serving, sadistic bitch does she think she is—Mark? Are you there?” 

“Huh?” Mark flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name. He blinks at his surroundings in confusion, still dazed from his abrupt wake-up call, before remembering his phone and the person currently speaking on the line: 

“Mark? Don’t tell me I put you to sleep?” 

“Nope, nope. I’m here.” Mark replies hurriedly, wiping the remnants of his nap from his eyes. “Luna’s a complete and total bitch, I got you.” 

Lia sighs, “Yuna, Mark. Not Luna.” 

With a silent yawn, he lifts his arms over his head and expels the kinks from his shoulders. Once his muscles are taunt and stretched, Mark releases a heavy exhale and murmurs, “I’m sorry, Lia. It’s just… been a long week.” 

“I get it, Mark.” She hums softly, “But I wish you wouldn’t stress so much about this. Minho made his choice, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Mark rises from his chair before pacing across the room to the mausoleum’s lone window. He pulls the curtain aside, peering out at the vacant hills of the graveyard. “If he would just talk to me, then I’m sure we could figure something out.” 

Hundreds of phone calls later, and he still hasn’t spoken with Minho since the night he claimed to be leaving the coven. No one has. Not even Jisung. And Mark can’t figure out what’s bothering him more: the fact that Minho won’t pick up his phone, or that you have been purposely avoiding him for the last week. 

He’s trying to give both you and the young witch time—truly—but Mark can’t help but feel as if something is off. 

“Minho needs to figure out what he wants himself.” He forces himself away from the window, receding across the room to lean against the lectern as Lia goes on, “You can’t be there to hold his hand every time he goes through one of his moods. It’s not good for him or for you.” 

“What am I supposed to do then?” 

“Nothing, Mark. You do nothing.” 

Mark shakes his head, “You know I can’t do that.” 

“Just give Minho some more time to get it together.” Lia says, “He’ll come around eventually.” 

“I hope so.” Mark goes to grab his coffee mug from a nearby table, but accidentally knocks his elbow against the corner of the lectern. A mass of papers and books slide from its surface, crashing to the floor in a rather vocal descent. He releases a quiet curse, tucking his phone against his shoulder before lowering to the floor to begin tidying the mess. 

…How long does he have to wait until you come around?  

Lia continues to speak as he gathers the escaped pages, “Have you talked to Yugyeom lately? I heard that one of their wolves just up and disappeared.” 

“Yeah. That kid, Changbin.” He says, “Gyeom thinks he probably took off after our fight with the huntress. Remind you of someone?” 

“In this town? A lot of someones.” 

Mark goes to respond, but the title of a particular document clears the thoughts from his mind. Pushing aside a couple other pages, he grabs the flimsy packet before raising it into better view. At first, Mark is confused, unsure why this type of reference would be out and about. But as he surveys the other fallen objects, his confusion gradually shifts to realization… 

Then rage. 

He doesn’t bother to look up as the door opens, nor does he spare the puzzled newcomer a glance. Still clutching the document, Mark rises to his feet and takes the phone from his shoulder with his free hand. He pays his companion no mind as he quietly murmurs: 

“Do you mind if I call you later?” 

“Not at all. Just try to think about what I said.” 

Mark bids a final farewell to Lia before disconnecting the line. He takes a moment to drag a hand down his face before turning to a wide-eyed Youngjae. As soon as Mark raises the document into view, his expression immediately shifts to a panic. 

“So…” Mark tilts his head with a tight frown, “You want to explain why the hell you’re looking up resurrection spells?...” 

Youngjae shakes his head, “Hyung—”

“Explanation, Youngjae.” Mark watches the siphoner’s face shift through a rainbow of emotions. From terror, to anxiety, to dread, before finally settling on guilt. Keeping his gaze to the floor, Youngjae eventually delivers a shrug and whispers: 

“...To try to bring Jackson back.” 

Mark’s heart practically splits open. 

He stares at the younger witch with incredulous eyes. “Are you fucking stupid, Youngjae!?”  

“It looks bad, I know—” Youngjae hurries forward to stand in front of Mark and lifts his hand in good faith, “—but I’ve been doing a lot of research and experimenting with a couple spells and I really think that we can—”

“You aren’t thinking shit.” Mark spits, rounding toward the siphoner until their noses are a mere inch apart. “We don’t screw around with necromancy, Youngjae… It’s dark magic.” 

“We just have to find the right spell! (Y/N) and I are searching—” 

“(Y/N)? What does (Y/N) have to do with this?” 

Youngjae immediately closes his mouth, his eyes growing glassy in the evening light. 

It takes a second for the puzzle pieces to fit together—your inquiries about Jackson, Youngjae’s daily trips to the bookstore, your evasion—but once the realization hits, Mark feels his entire body go numb. 

Youngjae rushes forward to grab Mark’s arm, “Hyung, I’m so, so sorry! (Y/N) thought it would be better not to tell you, so I just—” 

Mark shrugs his hand away, refusing to meet Youngjae’s pleading gaze. “Get out.” 

“Just let me explain—”

“Get the fuck out!” A loud crash echoes throughout the mausoleum as Mark flings his mug across the room, causing the object to meet the opposite wall before shattering to a million tiny pieces. Youngjae doesn’t persist, grabbing his bag and beelining straight out the door. Mark pushes the sounds of the younger’s sobs from his mind as he goes, unable to see past the anger boiling inside his body. But even against all the rage, a sense of sadness remains at the forefront of his mind. 

His best friend betrayed him—again.

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“You find and take care of (Y/N).” Jaebeom commands, slamming his car door shut with a little more force than necessary. Then again, he can’t seem to bring himself to care above the red-hot fury coursing through his veins like venom. He ignores the curious stares of a nearby group of female students and proceeds to move around the car, “I’ll catch up with you later.” 

“And where exactly are you going?” Jaebeom bites back a glare as Jinyoung halts his movements. His entire body thrums, as if physically yearning for vengeance, but he masks his temper with a sharp inhale and a promise to release his frustrations out later. 

He nods at his companion, “I’m going to do what I should have done before.” 

Jinyoung merely stares at him for a moment, and Jaebeom can only hope he can’t see past the bloodlust in his gaze. Fortunately, Jinyoung doesn’t question him further. He releases Jaebeom’s shoulder and delivers one final nod before turning in the direction of what both can only assume is your classroom. Jaebeom allows himself a moment to watch Jinyoung—his noble brother—sprint off to save the day—to save you. Again. 

Jaebeom swallows the bitterness accumulating in his chest and heads in his own direction. It won’t be hard to track her. He can already smell her Chanel perfume—she’s close by, he realizes. 

She wants him to find her. 

Sure enough, Jaebeom recognizes her silken auburn hair and Louis Vuitton coat beside a towering oak tree, staring down at her phone. He doesn’t bother to check if those students are still watching him and speeds over to his target’s perch. Even when he’s a mere few inches away, she continues to mindlessly scroll through her phone. Jaebeom’s anger grows when he notices the amused smirk etched across her pink lips. 

“It’s about time you showed up.” Tzuyu says, “You know how much I hate to wait.” 

“Give me one good reason not to rip your fucking head off right now.”

“Not even a ‘hello’?” 

Jaebeom growls, “You think this is a game?”

“Perhaps.” She raises her calm gaze to his own before offering a sultry smile. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” 

Her flirtations only add fuel to the outrage raging through his body. He speeds forward again, snatches her wrists and slams her smaller figure against the trunk of the tree behind them. Tzuyu winces at his aggressive movements, but Jaebeom feels no sympathy. Your trembling voice and pained breathing echoes in his ears like a siren, tempting him closer to the point of no return. 

It would be so easy to plunge his hand into her chest, to squeeze her heart until it's nothing but bloody ash. Or maybe he should tear her limbs off one by one, make her suffer until she’s begging him to end her—

“You really do care about her, don’t you?” Jaebeom awakens from his imaginary rampage at the question. Her usual smirk is no longer along her face, but instead replaced with a thoughtful frown. 

He growls, pressing her wrists further into the bark of the tree. “I told you to stay away from her. You said you wouldn’t touch her.” 

“I never thought I’d see the day the big, bad hybrid, Im Jaebeom falls for a human.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” His tone is quiet—murderous. “I’ll kill you.” 

“No. You won’t.” 

��Yes. I will.” 

“No, Jaebeom.” She shakes her head with a sigh, “If you kill me, (Y/N) will never forgive you.” 

As if she had taken a red hot iron and plunged it through his heart, Jaebeom lets go of the vampire and stumbles backward. He barely catches himself before he collapses to the ground, and even then, his legs feel like they’ll give out at any moment. 

Tzuyu, still leaning against the tree, tilts her head with a hum, “She’s a good one, Beom. I feel it… that aura that carries around her.” 

“Stop it—” 

“And it’s because she’s good that she’ll never belong to you.” She murmurs, “But you already know that… don’t you?” 

“You’re fucking sick.” Jaebeom hisses. 

To his surprise, Tzuyu’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Jaebeom.” 

There’s too many emotions swirling through his mind. He can’t think—can’t breathe. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself, and his hands won’t stop shaking. He can’t get your face out of his head—your beautiful eyes looking at him with such betrayal and hatred. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why won’t his hands stop fucking shaking? It’s too much. It’s all too much—

He can’t help it… He has to turn it off. 

A switch flips inside of his soul, immediately locking out every ounce of pain. His lungs inhale each new breath smoothly, and his limbs remain as still as a cat. With a clear head, Jaebeom returns his eyes to Tzuyu, who is still gazing at him with such tenderness and understanding. For a moment, the warmth of her gaze reminds him of you. 

Tzuyu cautiously takes a step forward, “Jaebeom…?” 

“You’re right.” He nods, “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“What are you—ah!” Her inquiry elevates into a scream as Jaebeom whirls forward and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. His fangs plunge through the fabric of her expensive coat before piercing deep into her flesh. She attempts to struggle, but he is stronger… and the damage has already been done.   

He pulls away, licking the blood from his lips as Tzuyu collapses to the ground. She clutches her wounded shoulder, staring up at him with eyes of betrayal, confusion and fright. 

“You… You bit me.” 

Jaebeom smirks, “I suggest you spend the next day or so wisely… it’s going to be your last.” 

Tzuyu’s expression turns rabid. She scrambles to her feet before sneering at the hybrid, “The sooner you learn to accept your fate, Jaebeom, the sooner you’ll find peace—” 

“Meh. Fate’s overrated.” 

“Just remember this—” The vampire growls, “—after you turned me, you murdered the love of my life… at least I had the kindness to keep yours alive.” 

He snickers, turning to leave. However, just before he takes a step, Jaebeom throws one final comment over his shoulder, “Thanks for all the sex.” 

With that, Jaebeom smirks to himself and saunters off into the glow of the setting sun. 

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung rushes down the hallway, careful not to speed for fear of running into a professor or student working after hours. The fragrance of your blood builds with each step, and he can’t help but grow more concerned with that knowledge. At the very least, he can still hear the faint beating of your heart. 

He follows the scent past a couple corners and down another long corridor to a massive, dim lecture room. Fearing the worst, Jinyoung quickly steps through the doorway before immediately spotting your incapacitated form through the darkness propped up against the opposite wall. He doesn’t hesitate to speed across the room and kneel in front of you. You’re unconscious, he realizes, but breathing—that’s enough to lift the heavy weight from his chest. 

“(Y/N)?” He calls gently, lifting his hands to cradle your face in his palms. “Come back to me, my dear… Please.” 

“Jinyoung?...” He’s never been more grateful to hear the sound of his name until now. Your eyes flutter open and dart around the area before drowsily settling on Jinyoung. The vampire in question breathes a sigh of relief, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb. 

“There you are.” He murmurs, “How do you feel?” 

“Like I was stabbed…” You raise an eyebrow before peering down at the pencil protruding from your abdomen, “Well, would you look at that.” 

Jinyoung holds back a smile at your sarcasm, appreciating that even wounded, you still manage to bear your usual fiery charm. His own eyes turn down to the object jabbed within your waist. He carefully analyzes the damage, determining the best possible solution to its extraction. As you said on the call, the pencil itself is trapped inside your ribcage. Jinyoung will have to be careful not to accidentally fracture your bones. 

He bites the inside of his cheek before returning his attention back to you. “I need to remove it, but it’s going to be painful. Very painful.” 

You roll your eyes, “It will also hurt a lot less when it’s out. I can handle it.” 

“I know you can.” 

Jinyoung keeps his gaze connected to yours as he wraps his fingers around the wood of the pencil, taking extra care not to brush against the swollen skin of the lesion. Your expression remains fatigued, yet indifferent during his preparation. He waits for your nod before he continues. 

In order to prevent as much further damage and to make it as painless as possible, Jinyoung removes the pencil as quickly as he can. Your furrowed brow and teary eyes slice at his soul, but he doesn’t stop until the object is completely taken out. Once it's free, Jinyoung tosses the pencil into a nearby trash can, pulls the sweater from his body and utilizes the garment to cover your slightly bleeding wound. He ignores the crimson of your blood staining his fingers, instead lifting his clean arm to his mouth before biting down. 

“What… are you doing?” 

“My blood will heal you.” Jinyoung answers, offering forth his bloody wrist. “It’s how I saved you after your assault in the alleyway.” 

“If I die with your blood in my system, won’t I become a vampire?” 

“You aren’t going to die.” 

You shake your head, pushing away his wrist. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not risk anything.” 

“At least allow me to bring you to the hospital then.” He insists, “You’ve lost quite enough blood for one day.” 

Jinyoung curses at the mischievous smirk that spreads along your lips. “You have got to stop saving my life.” 

“Stop putting yourself in danger, and there would be no need for me to.” 

“Last I checked, I had no idea Vampire Victoria Secret was gonna show up and stab me with a fucking writing utensil.” You snort, gesturing over to your desk, “Grab my stuff before we go, please.” 

Just as you requested, Jinyoung goes about gathering your laptop and assorted belongings before sliding them into your bag. One book, however, catches his attention. For a moment, he pauses to stare at the title, then flips open the cover. His mouth runs dry when he discovers numerous pages of notes in your handwriting. 

Jinyoung closes the book before turning back to you, who is struggling to climb to your feet. He moves to help you, stabilizing your body against the wall while asking, “Why are you researching necromancy?” 

“It’s a long story.” You inhale deeply, “But to keep it short… Youngjae and I are going to try to resurrect Jackson Wang.”

At the mention of the alpha werewolf, Jinyoung’s muscles grow stiff. He stares at your face, attempting to read the stars in your dreary irises. After what seems like a long moment of silence, he eventually speaks, albeit quietly, “You understand resurrecting someone from the dead is no simple task… Why would you even attempt such a thing?” 

Your expression softens. “Because Jackson didn’t deserve to die, Jinyoung. The pack lost their leader—Mark lost his best friend.” 

“Resurrection is a dangerous craft, (Y/N).”

“Not if we find the right spell.” You argue, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a sharp inhale. “I know it sounds bat-shit crazy, but I have to try, Jinyoung. For Jackson and for Mark.”

Jinyoung inhales a heavy gust, before releasing an even heavier breath. He curses himself at being so affected by the hope in your eyes. Your determination is too alluring—you are too alluring. 

“I have a collection of grimoires kept by a coven of Dutch witches who specialized in necromancy back in the 15th century.” He finally says, “I will gift them to you as long as you grant me one request.”

Your eyes immediately brighten. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” 

Jinyoung grabs your hands. “I want you to forgive my brother.” 

“Jinyoung—“

“After you left, Jaebeom fed me his blood.” He explains, “He cured the werewolf venom, so I wouldn’t have to suffer.”

Your face first contorts to confusion, then to Jinyoung’s surprise, guilt. “He didn’t tell me…” 

“As I told you, Jaebeom has a good heart.” His lips upturn into a sad smile, “He just… has difficulty revealing that side of himself to others.” 

With that, Jinyoung carefully gathers your body into his arms. He manages to cover your soiled clothes with your jacket before heading for the door. 

“It is your choice. I will give you the grimoires no matter what you decide.” 

Jinyoung’s heart leaps when your head collapses against his chest, right over where his heart proceeds to race. Judging by your silence, he expects your mind to have descended into unconsciousness once more, but is pleasantly surprised when your slurred voice reaches his ears, “Hey, Jinyoung?” 

“Yes?” 

“Thanks for saving me. Again.” 

Jinyoung smiles, “It was my pleasure, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Such a fucking idiot!...” Youngjae hisses, stomping his way past gravestones and monuments through the light of the setting sun. Usually, he would stop to appreciate such a beautiful moment in nature, but his mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of remorse and anger. 

Youngjae knew better than to keep something like this from Mark. His heart immediately drops when he thinks back to the older witch’s furious outburst—Youngjae hasn’t seen him that angry in a long time. Not since Jackson was alive.

He shakes the thought from mind. He should have never agreed to your idea in the first place. Jackson Wang is dead. And he can’t be brought back. End of story. 

A faint murmur of voices awakens Youngjae from his self-loathing. He hadn’t realized how deep he has traveled into the forest until now, so deep that he’s very close to the shore of the bay. His curiosity expands when he notices a strange light emitting from behind a group of closely placed trees. Against his better judgement, Youngjae decides to investigate. 

The nearer he approaches the site, the louder the voices grow. With a closer view, Youngjae can barely make out two figures conversing in front of a large bonfire. Due to the shadows of tree cover, he can’t recognize their faces, but something about their voices seems familiar to him… 

“You’re sure this is going to work?” 

“I’ve been planning this for years. There’s no way it won’t.” 

“Doesn’t this spell need a crazy amount of power?” 

“There will be a blood moon tomorrow night.” Youngjae watches as one of the figures retreats to the opposite side of the fire. If he is a bit closer, he might be able to catch a glimpse of his face. “I will have more than enough power to complete the transformation.” 

“And it won’t kill me? The transformation?” 

“You sound like you’re having second thoughts…” 

“I’m not!” The second figure insists, “The Primes deserve to pay for what they’ve done.” 

“And pay they will.” Youngjae’s blood runs cold as he finally gains sight of one of the figures. “The Primes and Mark Tuan.” 

“Holy shit—” Youngjae moves to make a mad dash back through the forest, but just as he takes a step backwards, his foot catches a large divot in the earth. He crashes to the ground with a faint yelp, cursing the new ache in his ankle. Panic skyrockets through his veins at the sound of approaching footsteps. Even against the slight pain, Youngjae manages to force himself to his feet, ready to make a break for it, but a broad chest halts his movements. 

Youngjae’s heart stops when he meets the gaze of Changbin, the temperamental omega from the werewolf pack. 

He smirks, “Your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” 

Youngjae hisses, “Screw you.” 

Changbin remains unbothered. “What should we do with him?” 

“Well… we can’t have him warning anyone of our plans.” Minho comes into view, wearing a similar smirk to that of the werewolf. “And besides, he might turn out to be pretty useful to us.” 

“Why are you doing this!?” Youngjae demands as Changbin shoves him back to the ground. “Are you that desperate for revenge that you’d actually kill Mark-hyung!?” 

Minho shakes his head, “I’m not gonna kill him. That special gift is reserved for the Primes.” He chuckles, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m just gonna take back what I rightfully deserve…” 

Youngjae sneers at the witch, “You’re a fucking traitor! A sick, selfish—” 

The siphoner immediately grows silent when Changbin lands a harsh hit against his cheek. At the heavy impact, Youngjae goes flying to the earth and doesn’t rise again. 

Changbin glances at Minho, “You sure about all this?” 

Minho only smirks. 

“I’m dead sure.”

[hellimagines]

18 Months (Part Eight) -- Michael Langdon

Masterlist

Summary: You and Michael get into another fight, but it only succeeds in bringing the two of you closer.

Warnings: Angst, smut

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader

Word Count: 7,000+

A/N: THIS SHIT LONG YEET (lemme know what you think tho)

18 Months Masterlist

When you woke up the next morning, alone in the bed you had just been sharing with Michael, you knew something was off. You thought- no, you hoped, that what had happened between you and Michael last night wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You didn’t think you’d be waking up in a cold bed, with your skin on fire. But, it was whatever, right? There were a few moments of passion between the two of you, but that didn’t mean Michael felt the same way. It became very apparent to you that the kiss the two of you shared, was simply a stress-relief for Michael. So, with a clenched jaw and a heavy heart, you pulled yourself out of bed.

Dressed in your typical, black skinny jeans, tank top, and leather jacket, you exited the guest room. You were going to need as much armor as you had available in order to face Michael this morning. Rounding the corner and into the living room, you were startled to see Michael sat on the couch between two young girls from the night before. Madelyn was in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and there were a handful of others scattered around Michael. You didn’t miss the way one of the girls placed a delicate arm on Michael’s shoulder, or the way he flashed her that stupid, smug smile of his. But, it didn’t matter. Michael wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his (regardless of the purple bruise he had left on your neck last night). So, whatever he did, wasn’t your problem.

You walked into the kitchen, not saying a word to Madelyn, as you made yourself a cup of black coffee. You had yet to unclench your jaw since waking, and by the side-eye you were being given by Madelyn, you had no doubt that she was about to start asking questions.

“So-” yup, there it is, “-I guess you and Michael didn’t make-up last night?” She questioned, continuing to keep her focus on the French sticks in the pan.

“Guess not,” you shrugged, leaning your back against the counter and holding the burning cup in your hands. You knew, that drinking the hot beverage was more than likely going to make you sick because of how hot you already were, but you didn’t care. You’d rather be sick than tired at this point.

“Don’t be too hard on him-”

“Why, because he’s your ‘Lord’?”

“No. Because he’s your best friend and he loves you. And, you love him just as much. Don’t let a petty fight get between that,” she said, pausing her cooking to look over at you. “I see the way he looks at you, compared to the other girls. Don’t be so insecure.”

“I’m not insecure, I’ll have you know,” you snapped instantly, gaze hardening. “I know my worth, and I know where I stand beside Michael. So stay the fuck out of my goddamn personal business.” You slammed the cup you had been holding down onto the table, coffee instantly sloshing over the edge and onto your hand. You bit back a hiss of pain, instead, turning on your heel and storming out of the kitchen.

And straight into Michael’s chest. “What happened?” he asked instantly, grabbing at your hand even though you had made no indication that it had been injured.

“Don’t fucking worry about it. Move,” you growled, yanking your hand out of his grasp. You silently regretted it, missing the cold that had washed over your burning flesh, but you weren’t about to tell him that.

“What has gotten into you? You’ve been awake for what, five minutes? Calm down, fox,” Michael soothed, in an attempt to calm whatever rage had been sparked inside of you.

“Do I have to get it tattooed on my forehead? Don’t tell me what to do.” You shouldered past him with an angry hiss, storming your way back to the guest bedroom you had just left.

As you sat down on the bed, elbows digging into your knees and head cradled in your palms, you suddenly realized just how horrible you had just been. Ever since you opened your eyes you had felt… furious. It was at nobody in particular, not at first. But, you couldn’t fathom not having a reason to be angry, so you found some. Michael not waking up in the same bed as you; not as a big of an issue as you just made it out to be. Michael had business he needed to take care of, and you had no right to hold that against him. Even if you had just confessed your love to one another the previous night. Madelyn trying to help your friendship with Michael; she just wanted the best for her Lord and his companion. You had no right to get mad at her about that, either. Michael swooping in to cradle your burnt hand; the two of you have a bond- you should’ve known he’d feel your pain and uncalled-for rage. You had no right to yell at him for caring. You had no right to do any of the things you had done. You’d only been awake a few minutes and you were starting hell for no goddamn reason.

A knock at the door broke you from your train of thought, and you looked up to see Michael entering the room. “I’m not gonna ask again. What’s the matter?” He came and sat beside you, grabbing ahold of the side of your face to force you to look at him.

“I don’t know…” you whispered, looking at his eyes. “It’s just like the other day. But today, I feel angry.”

“Is it because of our kiss?” he asked, running a thumb over your cheekbone. Without your makeup on, Michael could see the blush that crossed your cheeks.

“Kind of, but not in a bad way, not really,” you mumbled, casting your gaze downwards, and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “I know it didn’t mean anything to you, so I-”

“What did you just say?” Michael snapped, his hold on your face becoming rough.

You looked up in shock, releasing your swollen lip from its torment. “I- wait, you actually wanted to kiss me?”

“You are such a dumbass,” Michael scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course I did, what kind of dumb question is that?”

“You weren’t here when I woke up… I thought you regretted it.”

“No, I don’t (Y/N). Madelyn informed me that some members of the Church came over, and I didn’t want them waking you. So, I left to go to the living room, that’s all. I’m in love with you, and I have been for months. You’re the only one I want by my side. You’re having a bad day, and I get it, and it’s okay- but don’t shut me out because of it,” Michael said, pulling your foreheads together.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately,” you apologized weakly, closing your eyes.

Michael removed his forehead from your own, but before you could open your eyes, he was kissing the top of your head. “Don’t worry about it, baby. This’ll pass,” he reassured, placing a finger under your chin. You opened your eyes, looking back into a sea of blue, before closing them again as Michael leaned down to kiss you.

“This is so stupid,” you grumbled to yourself.

You were outside of Madelyn’s house, leant against her red Corvette, while watching Michael bid his farewell’s. Madelyn, Michael, and yourself were about to leave to drive out to a tech company in Silicon Valley. According to the older woman, they’d be able to help Michael get Ms. Mead back. You were glad Michael was possibly going to get his mentor back, but you couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that had settled itself in your gut. You’d had this feeling ever since the night Madelyn had found out who Michael really was. You didn’t understand why it was there, but you knew it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“We’ll be waiting for you, Lord Michael. Until you return home safely to us.” Hannah, the preacher for the Church of Satan, fell to her knees before Michael. She clutched onto his pant leg, looking up at him with adoration and want.

“We shall return in due time. But until then, I ask that you live your lives as you normally would,” Michael said, briefly looking over his shoulder to flash you a smirk.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you? We can protect you, my Lord.” A man from the segregation spoke up, taking a confident step forward. “We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if we lost you.”

“Michael doesn’t need your protection. And if he did, I can do a well-enough job on my own,” you said loudly, catching the attention of everyone on the lawn. “We need to leave.” You gave Michael a raised eyebrow, causing him to quickly finish his goodbyes.

Michael walked back over to you as soon as he had finished, wrapping his arms around your waist. “We have got to sort out this jealous streak of yours,” he mumbled into your ear, before pulling away. Before you could defend yourself and tell him that you ‘weren’t jealous’, Michael was pulling you flush against his chest. He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow kiss, smiling as you reached up to grab his face and the gasps of the segregation filled your ears.

“Alright, lovebirds, time to get a move on,” Madelyn snickered, walking around the two of you to get to the driver’s side. You gave Michael a lazy smile as you pulled away, before moving to the side so he could open the back door for you. You and Michael slid into the car, Michael instantly wrapping an arm around your shoulders once you were settled. With a final wave at the crowd, Madelyn started the car and drove off.

As you drove along the coastline of California, Michael removed his arm from your shoulder so he could settle between the two front seats, and talk to Madelyn for a moment. You’d been on the road for a while now, having some idle chit-chatting here and there, but keeping to yourself most of the time. As Michael leaned forward, you rested your chin on his back, listening to the conversation quietly.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t tell us exactly where we’re going,” Michael said to Madelyn, playfulness underlying his words.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, “I’m already freaked out I’ve said too much, and you being who you are…” she trailed off.

“It’s okay. I’m still the same guy I was when you met me,” Michael sighed, looking down at you briefly, and smiling at your content form.

“So not true,” Madelyn laughed again, shaking her head.

“Just tell me.”

Madelyn hesitated for a moment, before sighing. “We are like this secret network. We all know each other.”

“Secret network of people who’ve sold their souls?” Michael asked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “and if you think about this network like it’s a hotel, then I am taking the two of you to the penthouse! No one is gonna pass up the chance to meet the true son of the Most Foul! If there’s anyone that can help get you back on track, they can.”

Michael moved back once Madelyn had finished, settling beside you. You curled into his side instantly, placing your hands on his chest, and looking up into his eyes. “I can help get you back on track,” you mumbled quietly, causing Michael to laugh. He looked down at you, his eyes sparkling, before he kissed your forehead.

“You’re the only one that can help get me on track. They’re just gonna add some more fuel for you to use, fox.”

A little while later, you were pulling up in front of a large, glass-paneled building. Madelyn stopped the car out front, allowing you and Michael to get out. The temperature had racked up, so Michael shed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, keeping his free hand entwined with yours. You kept your leather jacket on despite the heat, having become accustomed to it as of late. Michael walked up to the sidewalk, admiring the building, before he paused.

He turned to look at Madelyn, whom still sat in the running car, with a sad look. “You’re not coming with us.” It wasn’t a question, it was an observational statement.

“They’re not interested in me, they’re only interested in you. I’m lucky I got the (h/c) over here, access. I knew you wouldn’t go without her,” she smiled sweetly, and you gave her an appreciative smile in return. “Just go up the path to the entrance. I really think you’re gonna be impressed.” Michael let go of your hand so he could walk up to the car, kneeling beside it. You stayed back, letting Michael have his moment with Madelyn. “At least I hope so.”

“Why are you so good to me? To us?” he asked, placing a hand on hers over the car door.

“I’ve waited for you my whole life… we all have,” she explained, her voice heavy with unshed tears. “Could I ask you a favor?”

“Anything.” You smiled at Michael’s words.

“When you speak to your father… could you maybe, put in a good word for me?” she sniffled. “When I get to hell, I wanna be in the lowest circle.”

“Circle?” Michael inquired.

“However it’s structured. I wanna be in the worst part- or the best part… I wanna burn in blistering heat and fire, for all eternity, in service,” she smiled, a few tears dripping from her eyes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Michael grinned, “okay?”

“Okay,” Madelyn replied, her tone much giddier than it had just been. Michael stood up with a final smile, and returned to your side, grabbing your hand. The two of you began to walk up the path before a sudden shout startled you. “Hail Satan!” Michael turned around swiftly, holding a finger up to his mouth, to shush Madelyn playfully.

You shook your head with a gentle smile as the two of you continued to smile. “I’ll miss her,” Michael sighed, squeezing your hand.

“I know, babe.” You brought the back of his hand up to your lips and gave it a gentle kiss before you were entering the building.

You followed Michael while he led you through the twists and turns of the building, as though he knew where he was going. You didn’t doubt it, he had done the same thing at the Ritz, but it still amazed you. The halls were nearly void of people as you walked, until finally, you came to a desk. A lady, dressed in a purple blazer and pencil skirt, stood behind the counter with a package in her hands. She looked up at the sound of your footsteps, a deep frown settling on her face.

“Are you lost?” she spoke immediately, adjusting her grip on the package.

“I’m Michael Langdon. I spoke on the phone with a man named Mutt, about a meeting,” Michael spoke, giving the woman a challenging stare.

“Hm, yes. I’ll go inform him you’re here,” she said, glancing over at you momentarily, before spinning on her heel and leaving the room. There was only one chair in the hallway, so you figured that you and Michael would just stand there patiently.

But, patience wasn’t Michael’s forte. He tugged on your hand, pulling you over to the chair where he sat down. Before you could question his motive, he was grabbing you by the waist, and pulling you down onto his lap. You grunted in surprise, gripping onto his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall off. Michael draped his jacket over the arm of the chair, before he adjusted his grip around you, and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“How ya feeling, babe?” he asked, kissing the underside of your jaw as he spoke.

“Alright. I hope things go according to plan this time,” you grumbled, shooting him a warning look. Michael simply gave you a cheeky grin and kissed the base of your throat. “No, stop that,” you giggled, half-heartedly pushing his head away.

A clearing of someone's throat caused the two of you to look up, seeing the lady in purple stood before you. “They’re ready for you, Mr. Langdon. However, escorts are not permitted upstairs without Jeff or Mutt’s seal of approval.” Michael looked startled at the woman’s words, but you simply laughed bitterly.

“Escort? Really?” you scoffed, removing yourself from Michael’s lap. You walked over to the lady, subconsciously sizing her up despite her height. “I’m not his fucking escort, ma’am. I’m his girlfriend.” Michael stood up quickly, feeling his skin beginning to freeze, and came to stand behind you. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and away from the woman.

“(Y/N) is the only person I trust. She comes with,” he said, his voice not holding any room for argument. The woman gave you a careful up-and-down, before nodding.

“Very well. Right this way then,” she said, turning away from the two of you and walking down the hall. Michael kissed your shoulder once she had turned, feeling his temperature slowly returning to normal.

As the two of you exited the elevator, onto the private floor, you couldn’t but marvel at the simplicity of it. Pipes protruded from the ceiling, and the walls were plain, bare cement. The door at the end of the hall that you and Michael came to, was guarded by a simple lock, that turned green the second Michael’s hand touched the door. However, as soon as you walked through the door, you finally saw the craziness of Silicon Valley, shoved into one room. Behind a glass wall were two men and a woman, all of them staring at you expectantly.

“Dude!” one of them, the brown-haired one, said as you and Michael walked into the room. “What’s up? Come on in,” he chuckled nervously. “Dying to meet you. Madelyn’s really been talking you up. That lady is wacked, right?” He shared a forced laugh with the blond beside him. “But she seems totally convinced that you’re the one.”

“No offense, but I thought you’d be a little more jacked- like, I was picturing you totally ripped like-like The Rock, when he was The Rock,” the blond said, vaguely motioning to his own body. You and Michael both stayed silent as you walked around the room, Michael inspecting each of the robotic items while you kept your hands in your pockets, sticking close.

“No, no that’s like stereotypical dude-”

“What do you mean?”

“-yeah, that’s not cool,” the brunette winced, shaking his head at the blond. “Ah… what’s your name again?” he said, looking at you and Michael with furrowed brows.

“Michael. Langdon.”

“(Y/N),” you offered simply, keeping your face void of how you really felt about the situation.

“Michael Langdon. Hey, you gotta admit, that’s a little weak, right?” the brunette laughed, followed by the blond, completely ignoring you.

“Shouldn’t you be Beelzebub or some shit like that?” the blond laughed, and you could feel your temperature rising. Instantly, you removed your hands from your pockets and took a step in front of Michael. “Old Scratch?” the blond laughed. Michael clenched his jaw before he turned, snatching your hand and beginning to drag you out of the room.

Instantly, a chanting chorus of ‘oh dude’, ‘woah’, ‘no’, and ‘hey’ filled the room, the boy’s frantic voices reaching your ears. You and Michael stopped, turning to look at them suspiciously.

“We-we believe you! You know, I thought I’d be like, pissing my pants or something… and, I am dry as the Sahara, bro.” You winced at the brunette’s desperate attempt to bring Michael back. But it worked, because Michael was letting go of your hand, and slowly walking back into the room.

“You’ve gotta look at it from our shoes, bro. I mean, how do we know you’re the Antichrist?” the blond said, shrugging his shoulders as the brunette agreed.

“Fucking hell, not again,” you groaned quietly, tossing your head back in frustration. You ran your hands through your hair, tugging at the strands, before following Michael further into the room, but keeping your distance. He walked to the center of the room and hesitantly lifted his hair, no doubt revealing his scar to the boys.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s cool, but it’s just a tattoo on your scalp,” the brunette said, and you knew where this was going. You looked at Michael, giving him a warning look and a shake of your head.

“No,” the girl, who had been just as silent as you the whole time, finally spoke. “It’s true, I can feel the darkness. It’s making me sick, and it’s coming from him!” she yelled, before suddenly making a run for the door. You watched her and then watched as Michael’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. The girl suddenly screamed in agony, and you turned to see her body alight in bright, orange flames.

“Holy shit!” Both boys shouted as the girl disappeared into a pile of ash. Michael rolled his head and the lights flickered before he looked over to the boys. You couldn’t see what was happening, but by the terror that filled their faces, you could only imagine. Instantly, they fell to their knees, their chants of ‘Hail Satan’ filling your ears.

“You fucking ass,” you hissed, turning your back on Michael.

Walking out of the private room and stalking down the hallway, you came to a stop by the elevator. You couldn’t get down without a password, and you had nowhere to go even if you did. So, you were stranded in the hallway with your anger. You couldn’t believe Michael had done this, once again. You couldn’t believe you had allowed the boys to talk him into killing that girl. You couldn’t believe that you hadn’t done anything to stop him. You just stood there like a goddamn pole and watched. You could feel tears of anger wanting to form in your eyes, but the sound of the door opening forced you to keep them at bay.

You blinked hastily and looked over, seeing the blond boy exiting. He wasn’t with Michael or the brunette, but he did have his attention focused on you. You gave him a raised eyebrow as he came to a stop beside you, and he smiled down at you cheekily. “I’m Jeff. The other one is Mutt. I never got to formally introduce myself,” he explained, holding out his hand. You simply looked at his outstretched hand, before back at him.

“Jeff and Mutt? Like the comic?” Jeff grinned excitedly at your words, retracting his untouched hand.

“Yeah, exactly! Pretty rad, huh?”

“Not as rad as ‘Michael Langdon’, but whatever,” you shrugged, turning to look back at the elevator.

“Hey uh… what exactly are you to him, by the way?” Jeff asked, taking a dangerous step forward. You turned back to him, eyeing him up-and-down in distaste. “You his side-chick or something? Because lemme tell ya, sweets, I wouldn’t mind having you all to myself.”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, fully turning your body towards him with a look of shock.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re hot as fuck. I would kill to base one of my VR’s after a night with you. I can only dream of what those lips can do, baby,” Jeff whispered, taking a few steps closer, and cornering you against the elevator. As he spoke, he brought his hand up to your mouth, running a finger over your lips.

“You have five seconds to step away from me before I break your fucking neck,” you snapped, glaring at him dangerously.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Jeff pouted, but removed his hand nonetheless. “I’m just saying, I could show you a good time, and in return, you could show my clients a good time- virtually, that is. I'd pay a lot, and that way, you wouldn’t have to be Michael’s bitch anymore.”

“She isn’t my bitch.” You looked up at the sharp voice of Michael, startled to suddenly see him and Mutt standing behind Jeff.

Said-blond turned around, looking up at Michael in confusion. “Hey, man, listen. Whatever she is- side-chick, hook up, call girl, whatever, I don’t care. We can share her, you know, like you-”

Before Jeff could finish his sentence, Michael was grabbing ahold of his hair and slamming him into the wall beside you. You jumped slightly at the impact, while Jeff limply slid down the wall, holding onto his head in pain. Michael reached forward and grabbed your wrist, harshly yanking you towards him. You didn’t have time to protest, to tell him you were pissed off, before he was kissing you roughly, his hands gripping your sides. You submitted to the kiss, whimpering softly as Michael accidentally bit your lip, blood pooling into both of your mouths. He pulled back at the taste, blinking at you momentarily, before turning to Jeff and Mutt.

“(Y/N) is not my bitch, and she is not my side-anything. She is my girlfriend and the love of my life. She is mine. You will not touch her. You will not talk to her. You will not look at her, or I will burn you to ash. Is that understood?” Weakly, both boys nodded, before Mutt reached over and quickly put in the password for the elevator.

“We’ve uh… we have a hotel set up for you. Jeff and I will meet you at the courtyard in a few minutes, once I’ve got his head on right,” Mutt said distractedly, kneeling beside his brother. The elevator dinged its arrival at the end of Mutt’s sentence, and before you could say anything, Michael was herding you inside.

Once the elevator door shut, and Michael had clicked the button for the bottom floor, you turned on him in anger. “What the fuck was that!” you yelled, shoving at his chest.

“Which part,” he grumbled, already preparing for your onslaught.

“All of it! You didn’t have to kill that fucking girl, Michael! You didn’t have to throw Jeff against the wall! You didn’t have to do any of that bullshit!”

Michael turned to you quickly, but you didn’t flinch away. “Yes, sweetheart, I did. If I didn’t kill her, they wouldn’t have known who I was. If I had let the blond-headed asshole touch you the way he was, I would’ve lost you. I understand that you’re mad, but I had to.” Michael was glaring down at you, the same way you were glaring up at him.

“No. Fuck you, Langdon.” The elevator dinged, opening up to the main floor, and you instantly walked out. “I’m done. I’m done.” You hastily walked down the hallway, trying your best to ignore Michael’s shouts for you. “Don’t follow me,” you added, briefly turning around to find Michael already at your heels.

“Don’t leave…” his voice was small, despite his show of dominance from seconds before.

“Don’t tell me what to do. I need to be alone right now,” you huffed, not sparing Michael a second glance as you walked out of the building.

Your fight with Michael had been hours ago. Now, you were walking around San Francisco's Bay Area in the dead of night, utterly lost. You had ditched your phone in the woods, so you had no way of Google Mapping your way to the hotel you were supposedly staying at. And nobody around you wanted to stop and offer a couple of directions. A part of you wanted to borrow a phone and call Michael; to tell him you were in trouble and needed help. But that would mean defeat and accepting his apology.

Were you about to do that? Fuck no.

Instead, you sucked it up and shouldered past a few people, turning around in a desperate attempt to retrace your steps. Shouldn’t be too hard. A couple of rights here, a few lefts there, that’s all it really was. Except, you weren’t in New Orleans anymore. You didn’t have the safety of your coven a few miles away. You couldn’t close your eyes and mentally call out for your mom. You were alone, in another state, with nothing but the clothes on your back. But it was fine. You were strong, you were invincible, you were (Y/F/N). You could do anything. Getting back to Silicon Valley was going to be a piece of cake.

Getting back to Silicon Valley ended up being a burnt piece of steak.

You had no idea what part of San Francisco you were even in, anymore. You could be in Silicon Valley, you could be in Napa, you could be in San Jose. Hell, you could be in L.A for all you knew. What you did know, was that it was cold, and it was dark, and you were seconds away from bursting into tears and screaming at the top of your lungs.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” you grumbled to yourself, rubbing the sleeves of your leather jacket to try and warm yourself up. California was supposed to be hot. You were supposed to be hot. So what was with this cold bullshit?

Just as you were about to duck into an alleyway and call it quits, a car swerved onto the sidewalk beside you. Looking up, you were surprised to see a black Porsche Boxster on the empty street. Sat inside was Michael, looking almost as terrible as you.

“Nice car,” you mumbled, slowly walking up to the passenger door.

Michael’s face was hard, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed. “In. Now.”

This was one of those rare times you actually listened to Michael, without so much as a glare. As soon as the words left his mouth, you were jumping over the door, and settling yourself into the passenger seat. Michael sped off instantly before you could even buckle up. He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, and you didn’t have the balls to even turn on the radio. You’d rather bask in the awkward silence and the car’s brilliant heat.

After an hour of driving in silence, you couldn’t take it anymore. “How did you find me?”

“Same way I’ve found you in the past. Followed the feeling.”

“That’s creepy you know.”

“Would you rather me have left you there? On the streets, in the cold, alone?” Michael’s tone was challenging, but you knew he wouldn’t have done that.

“...No,” you answered regardless.

“Why’d you run away like that?” he asked, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“I told you, I needed time alone. I was mad at what you’d done,” you explained softly, shrinking in the seat.

“So you just left town? Like an idiot?”

“Oh fuck you, I’m anything but an idiot,” you snapped, instantly sitting up. Michael pulled into a hotel parking lot, shutting off the car and turning to look at you.

“No, (Y/N), that’s exactly what you are. You’re in a state you’ve never been to before. You’ve been excommunicated from your coven. From your family-”

“Don’t fucking remind me.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me that way.” You and Michael stared one another down before he was opening the door and getting out of the car, his face dark. “Out.”

“Or what? You’ll leave me out here, alone?” you scoffed, crossing your arms and slumping back in the seat. There was absolutely no reason for you to be this difficult, just like usual, but you couldn’t help it. He was being infuriating.

Michael slammed his door shut, and walked around to the passenger side. “You know what? Fine. You wanna be a stubborn, insufferable, fucking brat, then go ahead. Stay out here in the cold, on your own. Whenever you feel like growing up, I’ll be in room 506,” Michael snarled, his voice filled with anger. He left you after that, the keys to the car shoved in his pocket, before disappearing through the hotel doors.

You’d fucked up. Wholeheartedly, without a doubt, fucked up. Michael had never gotten mad at you before, not like this. But he was right. You were being childish, and stubborn, and everything in between. So, after half-an-hour of brooding in silence, you jumped out of the car, and made your way inside the hotel, to room 506. You didn’t even get a chance to knock on the door before Michael was opening it, staring down at you with bloodshot eyes. He moved away from the door, allowing you to come in, and sat himself down on the edge of the bed. Silently, you kicked off your shoes and shed your jacket, walking over to him. Michael looked up at you, tears slowly falling from his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching out to run a hand through his tangled hair. It had been so perfect this morning. “I shouldn’t have been so reckless.”

Michael shook his head. He reached up and grabbed onto the back of your thighs, pulling you down onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. He held you close, hiding his face in your neck while he steadied his emotions. “I’m sorry, too,” he sniffled after a few moments. “I shouldn’t have killed that girl, and I shouldn’t have hurt Jeff.”

“I forgive you,” you said softly, moving his face away from your neck.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down and kissed him, tears from both of you falling between your lips. Michael whimpered and tightened his hold on your waist as he moved his lips against your own. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging on the occasional strand as you did so. “Michael,” you whined quietly, as he trailed his lips from the corner of your mouth to your jawline. His hands snuck their way up your shirt, splaying across your hips, and gripping tightly. He bit and sucked his way down your neck, leaving a myriad of marks on his way.

“I need you,” he whispered, pulling away from your skin so he could look into your (e/c) eyes. “I thought I lost you tonight…”

“You already have me, Michael.” Reaching down, you lifted the hem of your shirt and removed it, tossing the fabric to the side.

Michael hesitantly moved his gaze from your eyes to your chest, running his hands up your stomach carefully. He was testing the waters and you let him, encouraging him by carding your fingers through his hair. Gently, Michael grabbed onto your breasts, briefly looking up for your conformational nod, before ducking his head and kissing his way down. Reaching around you, he unclasped your bra, his mouth still attached to the top of your tit as he did so. Slowly, he let the straps fall from your shoulders until you had to lean back so it could be removed all the way. He cupped the underside of your boobs, instantly pulling a nipple into his mouth, earning a startled gasp from you as he swirled his tongue around the perked nub. With his free hand, he tweaked your other nipple, switching sides every so often. You arched your back into his touch, biting on your lip harshly to refrain from whimpering out loud. You gripped onto his shoulders, while your hips grinded onto his lap subconsciously. Michael pulled away after your breasts were bruised to his liking, and began undoing his own shirt, tossing it into the pile with yours. While Michael was busy undressing, you continued your ministrations against his lap, until he was done.

Grabbing onto your waist, Michael managed to pick you up, and placed you down on the center of the bed, hovering over you. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he whispered, his voice thick with underlying lust.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you nodded. You leaned up and kissed him, giving Michael all the proof he needed to continue.

After pulling away, he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down your thighs, tossing them to the pile. Crawling back up the bed, Michael attached his lips to your neck once again, but this time, his fingers slowly trailed down your abdomen, and to your panty line. He hesitated only a moment, before dragging his finger over the wet slit of your underwear. Instantly, you bucked into his touch, blushing at your wanton movements. Michael’s touch was light and teasing, just barely ghosting over the area where your clit was. You were forced to buck your hips into his hand to get any form of friction, but Michael wasn’t giving in.

“Please, Michael,” you whimpered after too long of his teasing.

“Please what?” he mused, kissing at your neck lazily.

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t think I do,” he hummed, his voice vibrating up your throat.

“Please touch me,” you caved, bucking your hips for emphasis. Michael grinned before pressing his thumb down, rubbing harshly at your clit through your underwear. “Ah, shit!” you cried, digging your nails into his shoulder blades at the sudden touch.

Michael continued to rub at your clit and kiss your neck, occasionally leaning down to gently kiss your abused breasts. But soon, he had enough. He leaned back, grinning devilishly at the needy whine that escaped your lips. He unbuttoned and removed his own pants, followed by his underwear, before bending down and slowly removing your underwear. You bent your legs, making it easier for him to do so, blushing deeply as Michael expertly tossed the used garment onto the doorknob of your hotel room. Gripping your thighs, he spread your legs apart for him, ducking his head between them. You knew what was coming, but you still weren’t prepared for the hot feeling of his tongue against your slit. You gasped in pleasure, moving your hands to grip at his hair, as Michael ran his tongue up and down your slit. While Michael pressed his tongue against your clit, he carefully inserted two fingers into your wet hole, taking satisfaction in the breathy moan you gave him. He worked his fingers inside you, wiggling them around until your hips jumped and you were crying out. Pressing against the bundle of nerves he had finally found, Michael slowly pushed in a third finger, looking up at you to make sure you weren’t hurting.

You had your eyes shut, and your hands tangled in his hair, tugging whenever he managed to hit that spot again. Finally, after a while of preparing you, Michael pulled away. You looked down at him between your shaking thighs, betrayal evident on your face. Michael couldn’t help the laugh that ripped through him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled, crawling back up to give you a kiss. You hummed softly, not minding the taste of yourself on his lips, before he was retreating again. “You ready?”

“We don’t have a condom,” you whispered, even as you lifted your hips to rub against his cock.

“I’ll pull out, I promise,” Michael said, moving a stray piece of hair out of your face. You thought for a moment, before nodding, widening your legs. With a heavy breath, Michael guided himself inside of you, taking it one inch at a time. You squeezed your eyes shut at the brief pain, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. Michael allowed you to take refuge in his neck, murmuring softly into your ear while slowly sheathing himself fulling inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, feeling Michael’s full length inside you.

“You okay?” he asked, willing his hips not to move.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay,” you nodded, your voice cracking slightly. “Go ahead, I’m alright,” you assured, wrapping your legs around his waist. Michael smiled and leaned down to kiss you once more. He began moving once he did, drowning out both your moans and cries with his lips. Your nails dragged down his shoulders, no doubt leaving bright red marks, as Michael thrust deep inside you. He kept his hold on your hips gentle, rubbing soothing circles into the bruises he had accidentally left earlier.

“Fuck, baby,” Michael moaned, pulling back from the kiss to toss his head back. You leaned up, kissing at his exposed throat. Michael’s hips stuttered as you bit down, sucking on the skin as a form of payback. When you pulled back, Michael grabbed your hands, placing them beside your head. He entwined your fingers while picking up the pace of his thrusts. “(Y/N).”

“M-Michael,” you whimpered, moving your legs higher on his waist, and gripping his hands tightly. Michael bowed his head, his damp hair dangling over your chest, as he panted desperately, the new angle causing the two of you to cry out in pleasure. “I’m c-close.”

“Cum,” Michael demanded softly, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. “Cum for me, (Y/N).”

Your hips bucked and your thighs tightened around his waist, while your back arched into his chest. “Michael!” you screamed, no longer caring if anyone heard you. You felt the familiar heat of your orgasm untangle in your abdomen, while you cried out in blinding pleasure as you came.

“Fuck!” Michael grunted, his thrusts losing their pattern as he neared his edge. Michael didn’t want to finish this soon, but seeing your blissed-out look, tits pressed against his chest, thighs squeezing his waist, and having your inner walls clamped around him, he didn’t have much of a choice. With a reluctant hiss, Michael pulled out of you, and grabbed his cock, having the intent of jacking off his release.

But then you were removing your legs with a whimper, and weakly pressing against his shoulders. Michael looked at you in concern, thinking you were suddenly hurt, but then he saw that your attention was entirely on his erected dick. He let you push him to the side, so that he was now on his back, while you kneeled beside him. Before Michael could ask if you were sure, your lips were closing around the head of his cock, and your tongue was dragging itself along a particular vein.

“Christ!” Michael yelled, and you almost stopped at his rare usage of the holy word.

But you continued with even more determination, even as Michael grabbed your hair in his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail. You used the leverage to swallow him further until his head was hitting the back of your throat. A moan rumbled its way through your mouth, but all that managed to do was push Michael over the edge. Without warning, he was cumming, and you easily swallowed it all despite the horrible taste. After sucking his cock for a few more seconds, guaranteeing he was dry, you pulled off with an obscene pop. You looked up at Michael with a smirk, licking the corner of your lips for any mess. Michael stared at you, his chest heaving, before he reached down and grabbed you, pulling you up to the pillows with him. He maneuvered the two of you under the blankets, making it more difficult than it needed to be since he didn’t want to let go of you. But, once you were both settled underneath, he was holding you close with a content smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, his arms wrapped entirely around your waist, with your face pressed against his chest. “You did amazing, babygirl.”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry we’ve fought so much lately,” you hummed, kissing his chest and smiling at his praise.

“It’s alright, baby. It’s all gonna be alright.” Michael’s words were soft and soothing, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep in his arms, with the morning sun shining over the two of you.

Michael Langdon 18 Months Taglist (OPEN): @omg-luv4lyfe-universe @hesvoid34 @winchesterbloodxxxx @justanotherdaydreamersoul @frozenhuntress67 @michaels-slut @buckynatlarry @sweetcredence @crybabycth @very-aesthetic-pineapple @rainbowxmisa @xbutterflykisses78x @sherlokid7 @hexqueensupreme @kaliforniacoastalteens @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @madhatterweasley @skullchik89 @assgardiangoddess @booyouwhoreee @kerouacsroad @moonagecordelia @valentinevirgo @aliahemmings97 @becca-in-outer-space @supersoldierballerina @quione3 @hxdesworld @multi-madison @lanijoyxo @bookwormstrawberry @killcort @shado-cat @heartjuliehart @alex--awesome--22 @scarletraine @x-idontknow-x @ourcielapologist @queenie435 @meeeeeeeeeps @goofyredpanda @naughtykpopthoughtz @daydreamin1220 @thewritten-angel @kayylluhh @x-i-a-t @howaboutanap @sidemans @divinelavellan @callbellaforagoodtime @bara-rose-would @geminiogy @la-gordita-mas-bonita @vampires0 @msjamesmarch @fand0msgal0re @saddbxtchh @nerdyalienhybrid @weeabootie @vikingsimaginesandthangs @sexxxychiq @al-chanyeol-mae @thatbatshitcrazyfangirl @helenaway-07 @baldenki @michael-langdxn @kickasskittie23 @samm-nicoleee18 @r3beltothesystem @misanthropegal @zrozenazchaosu @agb-random @whileinparis @thestylestour @leximills666 @pinkhappypanda @winterofherdiscontent @ivyxchaplin @mysticalavengers @the-captain-kidd @m-i-a-m-c-d-e-e @amarokofficial @thecrystalwitches @grippleback-galaxy @14-bees @evanpeters3826 @justatadbonkers @ghastlybespook @leasly @kezzasaurus-rex @lostsomewhere93 @langdonfern @absnicole

[mattskeebah]

PLEASE READ

I know how much y’all hate “your fave is problematic” posts...but it’s necessary.

Summary: Matt Skiba, singer of the band Alkaline Trio and member of Blink-182, has nazi tattoos, is a fan of nazi bands, made tasteless nazi related paintings, is best friends with Boyd Rice, and in fact, owns nazi insignia. Matt claims to be a feminist but likes countless scantily clad pics of young models and sex workers and follows actual porn actresses on IG. Also, he never distanced himself from Asia Argento and still sells t-shirts with her face on them in his webstore. Matt supports the police and the military and he has a weird gun fetish. He attacked fans who criticized his behavior and his problematic associations.

---

WHY I STOPPED BEING A FAN OF MATT SKIBA

He supports the police as an instutition, specifically Chicago PD. He made a post on Instagram in favor of CPD which ofc received backlash from fans but he ignored the negative comments and brushed it off as “there are bad people in every profession” and then he deleted the post. Thanks to a Tumblr user who screencapped it: [x] please notice the tiny blue (lives matters) heart. Also, here are some “cute” pics of him wearing police-related stuff [x] [x] and check out this post of him “repping” new CPD merch on his car [x] (he disabled the comments).

He supports the military, which might be because his parents served in the Vietnam war, but that doesn’t make it less shitty. Examples for his military-support can be found all over his Instagram. [x] [x] [x] [x] [x] and so on... and in this post he’s delighted that a soldier in Afghanistan is wearing an Alkaline Trio patch. [x]

He’s close friends with Asia Argento / or had possible romantic relationship with her and he still sells t-shirts with her face on them in his merch shop. For those of you who don’t know her, she was one of the leaders of the #metoo movement but then it was revealed that she herself had sex with an intoxicated 17-year-old (!) and her bf Anthony Bourdain gave the boy money so he would keep his mouth shut about the incident, ((later Bourdain committed suicide))

Story of a fan who gave Matt a letter criticizing him for being friends with Argento, and the same night he posted a picture of her on IG (I think it was this post)… which seems like a subtle F*CK YOU at the person who gave him the letter. (he can’t take criticism, can he?)

His IG activity is .. something else. Matt’s major interests are motorbikes, cars, and young, attractive, half-naked models and strippers. One of his recent likes (nudity and bruises cw) [x] [x] [x] [x]….that one is an actual porn actress he follows and thirsts over: (more nudity cw) [x] he commented ‘cool butt momma. miss you xoxo’ [x] [x] (liked)…and my “personal fave” a picture with a sex worker [x] he deleted the picture ofc

HE LOVES GUNS (+said that he would use them) he has quite a big gun collection: SIG SAUERs, a Morning Star, many knifes, a shotgun, a Desert Eagle gun, a samurai sword, a faux snakeskin baton, and more stuff I can’t remember, he posted his collection on November 5th 2018 on IG, but unfortunately I didn’t take a screenshot!! but he posted them individually on IG. [x] [x] [x] [x] etc. and a recently deleted pic at the shooting range [x] ……also this pic exists.. edgelord (tw gun to the head).

In the comments of the same post (I swear on my life it’s real, you have to trust me) a user commented that he’s a Trump supporter but he would still defend Matt, even if he’s “politically left”. Matt’s answer: “I would defend you too, my man!”. o k a y. then Matt said he identifies as “quite a bit left” o K AY. MATT. Just so btw. the user also had a name including “88″ ( is a code phrase commonly used in fascist circles for “Heil Hitler”) or he just meant the year 88. but I saw some racist “memes” on his IG too.

Matt has a weird obsession with WW2. He literally watched a holocaust docu on HIS FUCKING BDAY (or at least he posted about it) and he said he collects WW2 books. Theoretically, nothing wrong with being interested in history, but in the context of everything… bad vibes……….

He really loves Nordic/Scandinavian-related stuff, like jewelry of the Hammer of Thor etc and he even uses MS runes for his merch. Runes are popular among occultists but they also have a really problematic history concerning WW2 and the nazis. Considering one of his most favorite bands Death in June mentions runes in their lyrics and they are a REALLY REALLY questionable band flirting with nazi imagery and being openly affiliated with fascist and far-right satanists, I have every right to question Matt’s intentions.

He literally has a crutch cross tattoo on his chest (which was used as the symbol of Austro-Fascism, and is also the logo of the neo folk - nazi band Blood Axis) PHOTO 1, PHOTO 2 and an EDELWEISS tattoo [x], which is the national flower of Austria and is considered a magical flower in occult circles. Nothing wrong with having a flower tattoo but it was used a lot in the context of nationalsocialism and “traditional values”. To add, it was also used as a symbol of the 1st Mountain division “Gebirgsjäger” in WW2 (Hitler’s elite formation of the Wehrmacht who were involved in large scale war crimes). 

Matt OWNS NAZI INSIGNIA. He is wearing a WW2 Edelweiss patch in this pic [x] and here [x] combined with a crutch cross patch (Alk3 used an iron cross backdrop at their concerts 2014ish and a crutch cross symbol on their guitar picks btw.)

He owns several Death In June patches, their merch [x] [x] [x] [x] etc. and other patches and buttons featuring nazi-related symbols. [DIJ WIKI]. He is also friends with their singer. Matt’s a huge DIJ fan, attended their concerts [x] and Douglas P. reads the intro of the Alkaline Trio song “I Found Away”. DIJ uses fascist symbols and “aesthetics” for the band, including an SS Totenkopf logo.

Matt painted the same logo and exhibited it at an art show [x]

HE LITERALLY DID PAINTINGS REFERENCING DOLLFUSS AND MUSSOLINI and another piece of “art” called “surf nazis” [x] what the actual f   u    c  k .. and here he is with his painting of Mickey Mouse as Hitler [x]

HE IS BEST FRIENDS with Boyd Rice, (here’s a picture of them holding Wolfsangels, a nazi symbol) they are REALLY CLOSE. According to Rice’s IG they meet every week and hang out and Rice considers Matt “family”… the entire Boyd Rice shit can be read in this post (important please read). Matt even attacked fans that were calling him out and called them stupid.

The first liked video on his Youtube channel is a video about neo-nazi biker gangs in Germany....... [x]

He is friends with Kat von D, she did a few of his tattoos and she appeared in the Alk3 video “Help Me”.

He collabed with Jeffree Star on a violent song [x]

He was at an art show of a friend who used nazi symbols (!)

posts like these [x] [x]

In this interview [x] he’s pretty much romanticizing that people got stabbed back then at concerts and that there was a big skinhead scene (he wasn’t “stoked” about the violence happening BUT “the energy surrounding” was “very ATTRACTIVE” to him. Make of that what you will.)

When he was a sophomore in HS (and on acid) he beat up a classmate who threw a U.S. flag on the floor. [x]

Matt made a racist remark a few years ago about Chinese people [x] and according to him //or he’s joking// he has a tattoo on his dick that says “welcome to Jamaica” which can be interpreted as racist.

Many of the movies he praises blatantly depict violence against women, like Blue Velvet, Funny Games, A Clockwork Orange (it has almost 3 rape scenes in the first 15 minutes), lyrics like “Radio” can be seen as misogynist, he literally wishes that his ex-GF (/or someone’s ex-gf) should take a bath with a radio and get electrocuted.

A person on IG commented that his ex-girlfriend accused him of domestic violence, I have no proof for that but he deleted the comments ofc and then a few days later he donated money to a women’s shelter in LA… which seems like he’s trying to avoid a shitstorm…

He compared L.A. women to zoo animals in this interview [x].

He cheated on his ex-gf(s) which I think should go on this list too.

Matt used to be a member of the Church of Satan, just leaving this here. you can argue if it’s good or bad but there seems to be a connection between satanists and neo-nazis .. sadly.

He listed the song* “Los Angeles” by X among his faves in this interview [x] (*edit: Someone has reached out to me and explained that the song was not racist, antisemitic or anything but from the *perspective* of a racist. However, we don't know Matt's reason for liking the song and considering his WW2 fetish, it's sketchy that he would consider the song as one of his favorites. Maybe he likes it because the song openly says things out loud under the veil of "sarcasm" that would be criticized under different circumstances. See also: [Oscar Wild was right.] Matt still listened to the band in 2014 and was at a concert of them [x], even months after their singer spew right-wing conspiracy theories concerning (school) shootings.

THIS FUCKING PICTURE OF HIM WITH A CHARLES MANSON DOLL AND A SW*STIKA. He still had the doll in other pictures [x] [x].

This picture I found on a fansite. It’s supposed to be Matt as a child.. where does that even come from and why is he wearing a military hat with something that vaguely looks like an eagle (?)

I can’t be the only one who noticed that but Matt had a vaguely ~nazi haircut thoughout the years and even some sort of nazi / white power aesthetic~ going on, even fans recognized it as such [x] [x] [x] and in the context of him hanging out with Boyd Rice like this in this picture [x] it’s safe to say he was EXACTLY GOING FOR THAT LOOK.

When he was in Germany during the Blink-182 tour 2017 he proudly posed at a famous Third Reich location in the Alps. Yk. nothing wrong with visiting historical locations but in the context of everything mentioned in this post. IT LOOKS REALLY BAD.

…probably more.. this man is a walking disaster

- - -

In this post I listed a lot, there are probably some things you would consider “minor” because they happened years ago but I thought I’d mention them anyway. Also, I’m not saying he has those beliefs but he definitely doesn’t distance himself from nazi(-sympathizing) scum like Boyd Rice and keeps being BFFs with him. And what’s up with the problematic tattoos and WWII insignia? I can’t be the only one who thinks this is not okay!!!

Thanks for reading.

[shadow-emerald-gold]

My Heart (Michael Langdon x Reader)

I’m just going to slip right in and leave this here. Nothing like some good Antichrist in the morning to go with your coffee- especially a dramatic icon like Michael. 

This takes place during the early weeks of the apocalypse where Michael is feeling less than fulfilled about his achievement. So, he decides to talk to his father in an attempt to gain answers about how he feels.

Being the child of Satan sounds like a vague plot device that horror movies and books have no issue exploiting. 

However, it was reality for a young man named Michael Langdon who had successfully brought about the destruction of the world without an instruction manual. Everything had so perfectly fallen into place that it felt too much like a daydream to the son of Satan. It was a wonderful feeling to have single-handedly destroy the very empire of man. People either bowed before him, begged before him or died before him and it was all at the flick of his hands. Michael Langdon was the master of his own destiny and that played on repeat in his head for weeks until it began to wear off…

The Sanctuary was a terribly boring place in Michael’s opinion. He watched his father’s followers shuffle about the halls, preparing for the new world governed by the Antichrist’s plans, all without acknowledging that he was there. The young man had received no new commands from his father nor was there really a need to rush. The world had ended. Big whoop. What now? Michael had to wait for the dust to settle so he could start toying with humanity again, but it was torture to be patient. At times, he would sit in his room and watch the fire as his slender fingers weaved through his longer hair. Ms Mead had suggested reading a book, so he read every one in the small library. He even read over the business files that had been kept for future reference. The Antichrist practiced his power, often exerting it over the servant staff, but that soon grew tiresome when he realised that there was no rival to challenge him. It also frightened away the maids from cleaning his quarters.

It was his birthday when the deafening silence that was hollowing out his bones finally broke him. Michael snapped as easily as a twig as a voice in the back of his mind simply whispered,‘I’m lonely.’

How pitiful, he thought immediately after, the destroyer of man is lonely.

He did not argue however, his heart aching as if it were being clenched between two hands. What was the point of denying it? Only the fire will ever know his true feelings that were locked away in some childish prison tucked nicely behind all of his memories.

“You look more miserable each and every day,” Mead chuckled from the threshold of the door, “what ever happened to that perky son of Satan?”

He waved her comment off, mumbling something under his breath before turning to her. She held a black box that was tied up professionally with red ribbon. It was as if she had managed to find a retail store after the whole apocalypse that was still open. Michael smiled slightly as she came closer and placed it down on the coffee table before him.

“Happy Birthday, Michael.”

The box was opened in seconds and in it was a striking, deep red coat that was weaved with the embers of Hell. Soft to the touch and so richly designed, the Antichrist held it up before slipping it on.

“Perfect,” Mead beamed, adjusting the shoulders, “do you like it?”

“I love it,” he replied keenly.

“Hopefully this perk you up a bit. The others are getting a tad worried that you might be conspiring against them.”

Michael laughed quietly, “always.”

She left him after that, declaring that they will have a bountiful feast prepared in celebration, but he only slumped back into his seat- now feeling marginally more beautiful than he did before. It sure would be nice to have someone else compliment him for once. He tried forcing that onto one of the maids, only asking for her opinion on a new shirt, but it ended up with her broken body at the bottom of the stairs. Before you assume anything, it was not his fault this time. She panicked after thinking that she had offended that Antichrist and tried to run away before slipping and falling down the stairs in the most horrifying yet entertaining way he had ever witnessed. It was borderline comical until she did not move.

He felt the velvet of the coat and grumbled at the memory. Everyone was scared of him. Nobody wanted to talk to him unless they absolutely had to. It was always like that since day fucking one. He could feel his blood boil and before he could think otherwise, he was stomping down the hallway, fists clenching and teeth grating. He was going to speak to his father whether the parent wanted that or not. Passing by people, almost like a shadow, Michael instructed one of the servants to alert Ms Mead that he will be in the Ritual Room and no one is to enter until he comes out.  

He undressed rapidly, throwing his clothes onto the ground in frustration as the candles came to life around him. They dwindled in his presence for they knew who he was as flickering shadows creeped up the unnaturally smooth walls. He was cursing in Latin now, stepping into the circle as he drew the blade across his flesh and drawing blood. His emotions, the overwhelming hollowness in his mind, dulled the pain to the point where it was merely a faint throbbing- a distant thought to the profanities in his head. His voice died into a whisper, words begging for his father descending into Hell as Michael began to lose himself, giving himself entirely to the moment- his power oozing with the blood that he smeared into a pentagram. Strangely, it was a beautiful sight to see a devil crafted as an angel draw himself into the darker dreams of forbidden knowledge. The humming yellow light of the candles, a choir of tiny demons, singing to his rule over the mortal world. It was something he had felt many times in this past but this time it didn’t matter. Nothing did but only the attention of his father. He received it.

Shuddering, Michael opened his eyes in the world of eternal punishment, the candles becoming an inferno that blazed upwards towards the Heavens. Panting, his eyes traced the outline of his father amongst the smoke, grinning and standing; taking no note of his nude vulnerability. Despite being painted in blood and endorphins running high, he was proud of himself for keeping a calm composure.

“Long time no see, father.”

There was no reply as he felt the heat run across his skin, a warning perhaps for his cocky attitude.

“I have done what you asked of me. Humanity is on the brink extinction and the world itself has ended. Are you pleased?”

“You have not come here seeking my praise,” a low rumble echoed through what Michael could only describe as a cave, one that shook the walls, “you come seeking release…”

The son swallowed, his marble smile cracking and stepped back.

“Is that too much to ask from you? I have done everything you have asked of me and yet you leave me with nothing. It was I who destroyed the world! It was I who brought about the Apocalypse and yet I feel as empty as Heaven is. Nothing but a wonderful idea that is never reached. Is it not my right to be as fulfilled as you are?” Michael screamed, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his cheeks.

There was nothing but the roaring flames and his laboured breath- sweat dripping.

“You do not even know what you want.”

The Antichrist dropped to his knees, not caring for how the rocky ground scraped his skin.

“I know exactly what I want. I want… I want… I want to…”

How he wanted to say it so badly. How he needed to say it. Release all of those sentiments he had locked away so long ago. He combatted with his memories of the past, them wanting nothing more than to keep those emotions caged and yet another part of him was desperately pulling at the bars to free them. His tongue was twisting in his mouth as he shuddered; Michael was tearing himself apart at the seams, undoing all of Satan’s handiwork in a matter of seconds. His pride disintegrated as his mind shattered into ruins.

“You do not wish to admit what your body and mind craves. Oddly selfless coming from the spawn of my own being. However, you have done well.”

Then there was only the grey smoke as the fires screamed into nothing, their embers were all that was left. The man was still shuddering, crying into his hands as his voice gave up trying to speak his pain. All that he could do was choke on pent up rage, remorse, regret and melancholy. Once more, Satan had vanished without an answer. He whimpered, never wanting to return to the Sanctuary as he was perfectly happy here in limbo. 

Something grew from the ashes and smoke, appearing like a ghost with silent footsteps. He felt warmth graze over his cheek, skin so soft that it made him moan and he looked up- blue eyes red and puffy. His breath caught in his throat as a woman, no an angel, stared down at him with a tender gaze. Her fingers trailed down his neck, over his right shoulder and down his arm, feeling the violent heartbeat that lied underneath. A hot track was left behind where ever she touched. Her eyes mesmerised him, like a priest to a bible or a mosquito to a bug zapper. Amongst the vast darkness that had become the cave, her eyes shone like the moon- beautiful, radiant and pure. Could such a woman come from the depths of Hell?

“I-I want to love.”

It was like someone else had said it for him, his mouth moving on its own accord. More tears raced down his face and she smiled lovingly, wiping them away without a thought. The Antichrist sighed in bliss before reaching out to touch her waist. He prayed that she wasn’t some illusion sent to torture him but when his own fingers made contact with her skin, there was only sheer relief that flooded his system. Ice had cooled the pools of boiling lava.

“Love can be painful,” she cautioned.

“I know.”

The Antichrist pulled her onto his lap as she kissed him with the force of all the layers of Hell covered in all the sweetness that Spring and Summer could bring. A raging storm concocted of a gentle breeze that soothed his aches and filled his bones. A hunger, a calling, a demand was met and was sealed with his blood coating and smearing against her chest and stomach. A lover sent from Satan.

When Michael opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at the ceiling of the Ritual Room. It was dark as the choir of candles had been snuffed when they drowned in their own wax. His whole body felt as if it was Hell itself- endless burning and evil. It was a feeling he used to have. With a low groan that rattled his throat, a sneer appeared over his lips and he turned to face the woman that was bare next to him. She clung to Michael like he was her lifeline- her own heartbeat. The man rolled over to look at her properly, a hand coming to stroke her blushing cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. Without hesitation, she returned the gesture, running her hand through his long, strawberry blonde hair- something that would become a habit.

“What is your name, my heart?” he purred.

“(Y/N).”

“A beautiful name,” he hesitated for a moment, “do you know who I am?”

The Antichrist, he anticipated to hear, that’s all I am.

She felt the mark of the beast behind his ear, but her face never faltered from the smile. She traced over the fresh scars that had healed from the beginning of the ritual. She analysed the blood that was covering the both of them.

“You are Michael Langdon.”

From that moment on, Michael knew he would never get his heart back.

[bountyofbeads]

Russian Effort to Influence 2016 Election Targeted African-Americans https://nyti.ms/2R2pmzO

Russian Effort to Influence 2016 Election Targeted African-Americans

By Scott Shane and Sheera Frenkel | Dec. 17, 2018 | New York Times | Posted December 17, 2018 |

The Russian influence campaign on social media in the 2016 election made an extraordinary effort to target African-Americans, used an array of tactics to try to suppress turnout among Democratic voters and unleashed a blizzard of posts on Instagram that rivaled or exceeded its Facebook operations, according to a report produced for the Senate Intelligence Committee.

The report adds new details to the portrait that has emerged over the last two years of the energy and imagination of the Russian effort to sway American opinion and divide the country, which the authors said continues to this day.

“Active and ongoing interference operations remain on several platforms,” says the report, produced by New Knowledge, a cybersecurity company based in Austin, Texas, along with researchers at Columbia University and Canfield Research LLC. One continuing Russian campaign, for instance, seeks to influence opinion on Syria by promoting Bashar al-Assad, the Syrian president and a Russian ally in the brutal conflict there.

The New Knowledge report, which was obtained by The New York Times in advance of its scheduled release on Monday, is one of two commissioned by the Senate committee on a bipartisan basis. They are based largely on data about the Russian operations provided to the Senate by Facebook, Twitter and the other companies whose platforms were used.

The second report was written by the Computational Propaganda Project at Oxford University along with Graphika, a company that specializes in analyzing social media. The Washington Post first reported on the Oxford report on Sunday.

The Russian influence campaign in 2016 was run by a St. Petersburg company called the Internet Research Agency, owned by a businessman, Yevgeny V. Prigozhin, who is a close ally of President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia. Mr. Prigozhin and a dozen of the company’s employees were indicted last February as part of the investigation of Russian interference by Robert S. Mueller III, the special counsel.

Both reports stress that the Internet Research Agency created social media accounts under fake names on virtually every available platform. A major goal was to support Donald Trump, first against his Republican rivals in the presidential race, then in the general election, and as president since his inauguration.

Creating accounts designed to pass as belonging to Americans, the Internet Research Agency spread its messages not only via Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, which have drawn the most attention, but also on YouTube, Reddit, Tumblr, Pinterest, Vine and Google+, among other platforms. Its attack on the United States used almost exclusively high-tech tools created by American companies.

The New Knowledge researchers discovered many examples of the Russian operators building an audience with one theme and then shifting to another, often more provocative, set of messages. For instance, an Instagram account called @army_of_jesus_ first posted in January 2015 images from The Muppet Show, then shifted to The Simpsons and by early 2016 became Jesus-focused. Multiple memes associated Jesus with Mr. Trump’s campaign and Satan with Mrs. Clinton’s.

The Russian campaign was the subject of Senate hearings last year and has been widely scrutinized by academic experts. The new reports largely confirm earlier findings: that the campaign was designed to attack Hillary Clinton, boost Mr. Trump and exacerbate existing divisions in American society.

But the New Knowledge report gives particular attention to the Russians’ focus on African-Americans, which is evident to anyone who examines collections of their memes and messages.

“The most prolific I.R.A. efforts on Facebook and Instagram specifically targeted black American communities and appear to have been focused on developing black audiences and recruiting black Americans as assets,” the report says. Using Gmail accounts with American-sounding names, the Russians recruited and sometimes paid unwitting American activists of all races to stage rallies and spread content, but there was a disproportionate pursuit of African-Americans, it concludes.

The report says that while “other distinct ethnic and religious groups were the focus of one or two Facebook Pages or Instagram accounts, the black community was targeted extensively with dozens.” In some cases, Facebook ads were targeted at users who had shown interest in particular topics, including black history, the Black Panther Party and Malcolm X. The most popular of the Russian Instagram accounts was @blackstagram, with 303,663 followers.

The Internet Research Agency also created a dozen websites disguised as African-American in origin, with names like blackmattersus.com, blacktivist.info, blacktolive.org and blacksoul.us. On YouTube, the largest share of Russian material covered the Black Lives Matter movement and police brutality, with channels called “Don’t Shoot” and “BlackToLive.”

The report does not seek to explain the heavy focus on African Americans. But the Internet Research Agency’s tactics echo Soviet propaganda efforts from decades ago that often highlighted racism and racial conflict in the United States, as well as recent Russian influence operations in other countries that sought to stir ethnic strife.

Renee DiResta, one of the report’s authors and director of research at New Knowledge, said the Internet Research Agency “leveraged pre-existing, legitimate grievances wherever they could.” As the election effort geared up, the Black Lives Matter movement was at the center of national attention in the United States, so the Russian operation took advantage of it, she said — and added “Blue Lives Matter” material when a pro-police pushback emerged.

“Very real racial tensions and feelings of alienation exist in America, and have for decades,” Ms. DiResta said. “The I.R.A. didn’t create them. It exploits them.”

Of 81 Facebook pages created by the Internet Research Agency in the Senate’s data, 30 targeted African-American audiences, amassing 1.2 million followers, the report finds. By comparison, 25 pages targeted the political right and drew 1.4 million followers. Just seven pages focused on the political left, drawing 689,045 followers.

While the right-wing pages promoted Mr. Trump’s candidacy, the left-wing pages scorned Mrs. Clinton while promoting Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont and Jill Stein, the Green Party candidate. The voter suppression effort was focused particularly on Sanders supporters and African-Americans, urging them to shun Mrs. Clinton in the general election and either vote for Ms. Stein or stay home.

Whether such efforts had a significant effect is difficult to judge. Black voter turnout declined in 2016 for the first time in 20 years in a presidential election, but it is impossible to determine whether that was the result of the Russian campaign.

The New Knowledge report argues that the Internet Research Agency’s presence on Instagram has been underestimated and may have been as effective or more effective than its Facebook effort. The report says there were 187 million engagements on Instagram — users “liking” or sharing the content created in Russia — compared 76.5 million engagements on Facebook.

In 2017, as the American news media focused on the Russian operations on Facebook and Twitter, the Russian effort shifted strongly to Instagram, the report says.

The New Knowledge report criticizes social media companies for misleading the public.

“Regrettably, it appears that the platforms may have misrepresented or evaded in some of their statements to Congress,” the report says, noting what it calls one false claim that specific population groups were not targeted by the influence operation and another that the campaign did not seek to discourage voting.

“It is unclear whether these answers were the result of faulty or lacking analysis, or a more deliberate evasion,” the report says.

The report suggests a grudging respect for the scale and creativity of Russian influence operations. But the Russians were not eager to take credit for their own efforts.

After the election, the report says, the Internet Research Agency put up some 70 posts on Facebook and Instagram that mocked the claims that Russia had interfered in the election.

“You’ve lost and don’t know what to do?” said one such post. “Just blame it on Russian hackers.”

[puyohero]

Any Puyo crack ships that you like?

Well...

Sig x Rulue

Maguro x Rulue

Maguro x Seriri

Risukuma x Witch

Rulue x Lemres

Ms. Accord x Rulue

Ms. Accordd x Lemres

Doppelganger Arle x Sig

Doppel Arle x Doppel Schezo

Draco x Witch (platonic)

Succubus x Sig

Succubus x Satan

Incubus x Arle

Dark Witch x Schezo

Dark Witch x Sig

Dark Witch x Lagnus

Sig x...well, everybody...

[justasmallbloginabigklainefandom]

Rec This Thing: Interactive Introverts

Interactive Introverts in Amsterdam RAI, evening show on June 2nd

Story: Dan and Phil decided to give the people what they want.

My Story: Okay, fun fact, I bought my ticket on June 1st. When they first announced their tour, my friend Sammy immediately bought tickets for her and her sister and she asked me to come along.

I declined.

After all, I wasn’t that big of a fan of Dan and Phil and I decided that people who are actual fans of them could have my possible ticket. Fast forward a couple of weeks and I became fan of them and both shows were sold out. Yup. Bummer. Instant regret. Total sadness. So Sammy promised to tell me everything yada yada since I couldn’t go. Then just over 24 hours before the show, Sammy sent me a message that there were five seats left for €55.

Crap.

Okay, I decided to do it. Fuck work the day after. Let’s go. And boy, am I glad I did.

Rating (1 to 10): 9

Why?: QUITE DETAILED SHOW SUMMARY UNDER CUT, SPOILERS!

Alright, yup, I’m just going to write down everything, including the entire show. Or at least what I remember cause holla, this is done from memory.

Basically, we arrived in Amsterdam after a lot of panic because my bus didn’t drive so we were about to miss our train. I ran back home and yelled to mum to grab the car (called Snuit) cause HOLY FUCK MY BUS IS 6 MINUTES LATE AND WITH THE NEXT BUS I WILL MISS MY TRAIN FOR SURE.

But okay, Amsterdam. We got there around four? First we checked out the venue, which wasn’t hard to find because their matinee show had just ended, so we just had to follow the stream of fans who were leaving, and then we had dinner at this Japanese place. Then around 18:30 we were back at the venue. Only VIP was allowed to go in already, so we decided to buy merch. The place was packed, so they decided to already open the merch stand. Good thing we got merch (I got a poster) before the show, because other merch was sold during intermission and after the show. Almost no one got merch during intermission, because it was only 20 minutes long, and after the show the line was insane. Probably 2,5+ hours wait time.

We found our seats. We got split up. Sammy and her sister had a great seat (row 9) and I sat on the other side of the theatre in a balcony seat which was fucking great as well. They put on Dan’s playlist and that playlist was banging. Sometimes, Dan’s Siri interrupted. I mean, they were playing Hard Times when I entered the theatre- great start. 

And of course they came on stage after Welcome To The Black Parade.

First we had a video kinda introducing danis not on fire and AmazingPhil and then they came in on a moving plaform. Like, their set was so minimalistic but also so great?

After the “Hello! Hi!” stuff they talked about being in Amsterdam (”Amsterdamn” - Phil) and how Phil is feeling a bit sick because he decided to eat tons of stroopwafels (strupwaffles, they called it). Dan called him out, because when you buy a pack of stroopwafels, they are obviously not supposed to be eaten at the same time.

Oh, and those poor foreigners aren’t used to shit ton of bikes in Amsterdam (or in the entire Netherlands tbh) so they were talking about how they almost got killed by bikers while crossing the road. 

They were obviously telling us what to expect and all of that.

Then first, What are we not going to do. They acted out everything they were not going to do. I only remember the erotic roleplay, because they did cop roleplay and it was fucking hilarious (”Please be gentle with those handcuffs, I have sensitive skin” - Dan), and the part where they dressed up as their cute pastel versions.

Truth Bombs came next. Phil got asked something among the lines of: “What Olympic sport would Phil excel in?”

Keeping houseplants alive

I forgot.

SPORTS??? LMFAO!

(If anyone’s reading this… if you happen to know the missing parts cause you were at the same show, hit me up.)

Phil said something about how avoiding bikes in Amsterdam is a sport and then he procceeded to jump over the small hexagon on stage. He chose the houseplants.

Dan’s question was: “What is in Dan’s browser history?” 

Fursuits (I think???)

I also forgot.

Something with Shrek 

Which was ironic, because Shrek the Musical played at the RAI. I don’t remember what Dan chose.

Then, “How will they die?” 

Demonetization

They fall off stage in a few minutes

I forgot….

Honestly, they kept talking about demonetization during the entire show. Every time they said something too raunchy, they’d say something like “We’re getting demonetized.”

I think the Simulator came next? Anyway Phil started out with ordering a unicorn frappuchino and he ended up being killed by Satan cause he tried make a deal with him to restore his twitter account after accidentally posting a sexy photo of himself in his pants. We cheered for Satan, and they kept reminding us of that during the entire show. 

Dan was outside for once and got approached by a furry, did body shots of an otter, and ended up dying in an underground furry rave after he decided to use the ladies’ restroom.

After that, Phil synced us all as Linda, so hooray, we were all Linda. Now as Linda, we could continue to the magic trick and the audience participation. What is hidden in the mysterious box that Dan hid under his bed? Our three answers were: cereal, a panda, a fursuit. 

I still don’t know how they did this trick. The box was unopened on stage all the time. Sammy and I first came up with this special electronic paper, but then we realised Phil gave it to audience members to rip it up and fight about it.

I only remember three questions asked during the Survey. There was apart about their favourite content and Dan was very happy to present it as a pie chart. Also “Do you think you know Dan and Phil?”

Yes

No

Who is Dan and Phil?

After joking about how all the parents answered the last answer, they noticed a small percent still answered no, and they talked about authenticity on YouTube and sure, they put themselves out there because they want to entertain people, but that they are still genuinely themselves and that they’re not faking it. But if you wanted to see the non-entertaining version of them, you’d be bored. (”On my sofa, with an overheated laptop on my crotch and a bag of crisps under my chin and me trying to eat them with my tongue cause I’m lazy” - Dan).

Then, of course the “Dan or Phil?” question and they presented the wheel and they made the most dramatic act one exit I’ve ever seen, and I am a Broadway fan.

During intermission, the two women next to me were talking about merch and I told them where to find it. Then I exited the theatre. Sammy’s sister bought Pringles and I bought M&Ms and the three of us were kinda shocked to see the queue for the merch stand. Those poor fuckers.

We went back to the theatre and I talked about the merch again, because I happened to know the whole merch stand and its prices by heart after looking at it for 45 minutes (hoodie €40, sweater €30, wristband €5, poster €10, Dan and Phil plushies €25, denim jacket €65, two t-shirts €20 and €25, keycord or whatever it is called €10, cap €15, woops I still know it).

Back to the show! Phil was on the wheel and Dan used a slingshot, a bow and arrow, and a bazooka. And afterwards Phil was showing off his ass while taking off that white body suit. He said he was dizzy and Dan dared him to jump over the hexagon again, but Phil refused.

Okay anyway the next thing I remember is the wholesome Daniel and X-Rated Lester part (”I’m already feeling naughty” - Phil). In the beginning they had this whole talk about authenticity and how they are still humans bla which was really cool. Since I am a recent fan, I completely missed the actual wholesome Daniel craze, but yeah, they talked about how they are actual people and sometimes, they don’t meet certain expectations of fans.

Also, at one point in the show, Dan was talking about God and he yelled “Spite me, daddy!” and I think it was around this moment. The entire crowd yelled.

Alright Dan had to sweet talk disturbing fan fiction, Hello Internet, and another thing uuuuhm. I don’t remember. Anyway, he kept saying “Oh for God’s sake!”, especially at the Hello Internet one.

Phil had to bad mouth cute animals, endless kittens (he failed), and ugh I have also forgotten his last one. The person who sent in cute animals sat in front of me and it was just absolutely amazing to see how happy she was to see her submission on screen.

Then the Dan vs. Phil friendship game. There was a lot of stuff, but I remember some. I can’t believe they shocked each other, but maybe that is because I’d read the Milgram Experminent earlier that week.

First, psychic connection. They both had to name the same number between 1 to 20 and they failed. 

Then a dilemma. Dan got the dilemma: “Guest star in Infinity War 4 or Phil gets thrown in a pool of cheese?”

Phil had to choose between: “A billion dollars or Dan will never be able to see dogs again?” According to Phil, he’d buy two big airplanes and then merge them together for an ever bigger airplane.

Then the Dan or Phil or Rat. They both got it right. Phil just got a photo of something white, but he guessed that it was his own pale skin and Dan got some hairs and he guessed that it was a rat.

Trivia. Dan needed to name 3 pre-2008 Phil videos and succeeded. Dan thanked Phil for uploading his newest video about his his old deleted stuff. Phil needed to recall the kind of cake that Colin ruined and failed.

There was probably more to Dan vs. Phil but I am blanking. Phil got the big shock (”I’m Phil trash no. 1!″ - Dan).

Then the intimate moment. Or personal. Phil called it intimate and Dan just went “PERSONAL? DON’T CALL IT INTIMATE, IT’S PERSONAL” and then proceeded to point out that Phil has a degree in English language.

It was just so down to earth. There were three questions, and I remember two. The first person asked for an appropriate name for their zoo animal YouTube channel. I forgot the name they recommended, but they said it was great that this person had a clear theme.

I remember one person saying that she wants to be a singer but her parents want her to go into medicine and well first they were like “hey singing doctor!”. But they talked about how passion is important and how they both didn’t do what was expected and how they are much happier now (“Lawyer Dan is as awful as a singing doctor!” - Dan) but I unfortunately forgot the other two questions. It was just a really nice moment where both Dan and Phil just sat down to have a chat. Oh and they also talked about Phil’s apparent awful handwriting.

Then the power came back on and I think that is when the Awards happened? Glitter jackets af and a self-made statue (”Two naked men in bondage really represents Dan and Phil” - Phil, or something like that.)

The first category was: Best dressed pet as Dan and Phil.

A lizard wearing a flower crown while watching the video of Black Parade won.

A cat wearing Dan’s merch.

I don’t even know but it looked like Dan was riding Phil so that was that. I suppose it was a dog.

And then Most inaccurate expectation of the show

I fucking forgot first place.

Two hour long Hamilton reenaction with Chris Evans.

Them giving birth on stage.

Also the most annoyed parent was just incredibly funny. I remember the winners but hey I don’t feel comfortable just sharing their names cause… privacy. I know the winner sat on the second row and all kids were pointing at her and I guess Dan and Phil saw her and said: “This was probably the worst day of your life, thank you for sharing it with us!” “You probably thought you were seeing Shrek the Musical.”

And then back to the scripted part, aka the Big Finale. A dog video that has nothing to do with the show, PHIL’S DISS TRACK, Dan at the piano, and them singing a duet. This ain’t Broadway, but it was still kinda nice and just sweet.

And well, that is it. They runned around on stage, waving at everyone, saying goodbye. Then they stepped on their moving platform and they disappeared.

Some random things:

Phil kept calling a part of the set a “flap” which annoyed Dan.

Dan… just… couldn’t… stop… dabbing…

They hinted at a new gaming video that involves a lot of Dan’s screaming - coming next week.

So many pride flags in the crowd.

Phil and Dan sounds wrong.

There was one moment where a picture of Dan’s had pasted on a horse from My Horse Prince appeared with a text bulb saying “Ride me, senpai” but I don’t remember when that happened. I think before the Simulator?

Interactive Introverts kind of reminded me of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. There’s clearly a format and a script, but thanks to audience participation, no shows are the same.

But in all seriousness, as my friend Rowan @rothetree pointed out, the entire message of this show was about how Dan and Phil are just human. As Ro put it: “On a serious note, there’s a whole underlying theme to this show, which was them basically going “Hey, we’re real people, stop objectifying us"”. This felt so in line with what the three of us were talking about. Me, Sammy and Sammy’s sister had to endure a two hour train ride and we talked a lot about fandom’s perception on real life people they stan and how they sometimes reduce those people to the image they have in their minds.

Cause we were talking about stuff like real life shipping, and about how celebrities are being seen, and how the moment they do something the fans don’t like, you get all those moments of “X is not real anymore!”

Newsflash asshole, they are people with feelings, and just because you don’t want to see those feelings, doesn’t mean they don’t have them. For example, Sammy was talking about how one K-POP star basically got stalked at an airport and when he clearly showed his dislike of it, people were all “OH MY GOD HE DOESN’T LIKE HIS FANS HE IS SO RUDE HE’S NOT WHO WE THOUGHT HE WAS” and I gave the example of people saying Darren is “no longer himself” after he called out the people who are seriously threatening his fiancée and all that stuff.

Before the show started, we overheard two other fans talking about how they should come out bla bla bla, and just… no? That is so personal and we are not entitled to that at all? 

To quote Ghostly, they are not our dolls. We can’t dress them up in whatever way we want.

I recently read I Was Born For This by Alice Oseman, which follows a band from the fans’ POV and through the band’s POV and how sometimes those things clash, and I feel like with Interactive Introverts, Dan and Phil wanted to show people who they are to avoid a clash like that. That’s why they kept talking about how they value authenticity, while they are aware of the fact that they are also putting on a show. Or how, when people have certain images of them, how unrealistic those images can be and that they cannot live up to the expectations, and therefore it is important for fans to realise that. The tagline is: “Giving the people what they want!” and they did that without having to change for the fans’ sake.

As Rowan (rothetree, not Rowan from the book I Was Born For This) said: "we don’t own their image or expect too much from them. Something about their interactions with us is changing in a really good way."

Because that exactly.

Since I am a recent fan and I got my ticket one day before the show, I wasn’t aware of the questions, but in the “Do you think you know Dan or Phil?” (as they said: or do you think we’re people putting up a whole show) I would’ve answered a solid “no”, because I always think it’s dangerous to say that you know a celebrity, but after this show, I’d vote “yes”, because the way they acted on stage and the way they conveyed their message of “yes, we’re putting on a show right now because we want to entertain you guys, but we still care about authenticity” was well done.

And that is what made this show so great and enjoyable. Yes, it was a show and there were scripted parts, but it was still very genuine.

Recommend?: Yes, please, just like TATINOF, put it online for sale!

[opalai-pixel-witch]

Hi, yo!

“I’ll be sure to do that when I have time ^_^”

-- Yay! :D

  “Yeah, maybe something like that o: I was thinking that we don’t really know if anyone else has the power to make people sick, so if some entity out there was like that they might do that and try to interfere with her work somehow and she’d just be all “no STOP that you idiot” and undo it or something :P It’s kinda hard for me to describe, but it’s something like that? Of course her job is the exact opposite of healing others so she probably wouldn’t use it all that often >_>”

-- I think there isn't another entity able to sick, at least, not in that hell.

In the comics there was Anubis, the egyptian god of the dead, and there is the Annual Death Dinner, maybe is the same with the others horsemen, there we would already have to study the entities from other cultures :)

For that reason I think it would only work as a threat, and I don't know how difficult it's to make someone sick, she didn't do anything to Fafnir, she just yelled at him ...

  “Yeah, those theories sound about right :o I think that all the horsemen are capable of killing (and also resurrecting as we’ve seen with Death and Pesto), but they’re only allowed to do it when the job requires them to and they risk being penalized somehow—usually with Hell Jail—if they do that of their own accord. I feel like it was a rather desperate situation in Hell when Odin went on his rampage, and Satan didn’t have enough time or patience to instruct Famine on how he could handle it. And so, Famine being his usual cringy and edgy self, took it to extremes and get Ramsey killed…so I think we can chalk that incident up to recklessness and a lack of preparation.”

-- Maybe everyone in hell or anyone who has a Shred of life can resurrect; as far as I know, only Life and Anubis are able to resurrect without Shreds,they also have to know how to use them, if we compare Death and Pesto we can understand why Bjorn is immortal (XD) and Sam and Salmon Guy are going to have a normal life

That would explain why Pesto didn't make Fafnir sick ;v She didn't want problems with Satan; meanwhile Fam does the opposite :D

And if he can reverse the hunger ... I think he would never use it :)

  The interesting thing is Death has 2 people to regulate him and yet he does what he wants:

♦ Life: apparently she is very patient and cool;

♦ Satan: King of hell, very big and something tells me he's very aggressive, I say this simply because Death and Pesto fear him a lot

And with my headcanon about horsemen can recover from an injury, we can intuit Satan can seriously injure them if they make him angry enough, because none of them can die, only be out of service for a while

  This reminded me of a thought I had when I started obsessing over MS:

- One day Satan surprised Death making deals with millionaire souls again, this time Satan was in a bad mood and his first reaction was to grab him and start beating him. War seeing Satan hitting him on the ground, tried to interfere, but he gave her a head butt, pushed her away and took her weapon to finish hitting Death. After a while (endless for Death and War), Satan left, threw War's weapon, now broken, around there, leaving Death badly wounded on the ground. War still stunned by the blow, approached Death who was missing half of his skull, he apologized for having broken his weapon, War just stood there with him without saying anything

  Yup ... I have very happy thoughts :)

  “Hmmm, I may have to check those out! I would like to get in the habit of trying new things but my comfort zone is just so…comfy >o>”

-- I saw Clinic of Horrors, it's good, my only problem is it's only in English and I'm very lazy to translate ^^;

  “THE OTP IS BACK! ^o^ Protective War is so cool—and we all know Death would do the same for her >u> And that drawing of Death and Lil Foxbro is so adorable!! And it’s also super cool to see Sam, Bjørn and Cassiel hanging out together ^_^ My poor son though ;-;”

-- Of course, in fact, there are times this is a problem, sometimes Death wants to protect War without being prepared and it ends badly :)

Bjorn will be fine :) I would worry about Sam XD

  “You know, that first scene with him where he’s spying did make me wonder…he had his tracker-thing in one hand and a coffee in the other, and then he somehow takes his goggles off at the end?? Maybe he does have limitless pockets… (making secret plans to steal Milky’s coat later)”

-- He has a tracker, a coffee, some glasses, a gun, sugar and cream in his pockets, among other things XD

  “That makes sense to me :o But I wonder why Milky didn’t have a weapon—even if he’s going to Helheim, a presumably peaceful afterlife, these are still the horsemen he’s dealing with…there’s definitely some infinite pocket action going on >_>”

-- Now I imagine the scene in the Mask where they search his pockets but with Milky X,D

--------

Hello hello! ^___^

Yeah I wasn’t really thinking of another entity in Hell specifically, I just meant like another entity outside the physical realm :P But you’re right, that proves that there are other Deaths out there along with seeing Bear Death in Helheim Hassle—though now that I think about it, I don’t think we’ve seen any horsemen in Valhalla or Helheim…maybe Norse mythology works differently somehow? I’m the farthest thing away from an expert you can get when it comes to these things so I have no clue |D

I think, concerning the Fafnir situation, she was still holding herself back at that point. From what we’ve seen, Pesto is someone who loves to talk, especially going on looping rants and tangents. I think she also has some really bad anxiety and is pretty pessimistic, so she probably jumps to the worst case scenario pretty frequently >_> Plus, the boss fight with her seems like proof enough to me of what she’s capable of, but afterwards she demands that Hugin and Munin not tell anyone because she “doesn’t have a permit here”—I feel like it all comes back to the instructions and rules Satan might set for the horsemen when he assigns them a task, and deep down despite her saying things like “throw me in Hell Jail, I don’t care!” and “I ain’t afraid of that, Bjoharn! It’ll be totally worth it!”, she was actually scared of getting in trouble and knew that it wouldn’t actually be worth whatever punishment Satan would give. (which…can’t possibly be Hell Jail, right? Hell Jail’s not the worst punishment Hell has to offer, right?? You get cupcakes and cookies and cozy movies with demons!! Where’s the punishment??? Hell is weird…)

I don’t know about Anubis, but Life reviving people without Shreds makes sense to me o: I think that Pesto might have seen or heard rumors about Death doing that, but she doesn’t know everything about how to do it so she’s just like “you throw the Shred at the dead person and they come to life, done” :P Not to mention the fact that while Death is doing the spell on peoples’ souls, Pesto did it on Bjørn’s body, so I bet that has to factor in somehow too >o> Death’s probably been making these “deals” for a long time so he must have gotten the hang of it by now |D

That’s what I’ve been thinking too—then again, in the gerbil comic Death says “I be too young to die!” which sort of implies that it may still be a danger for them??? Some mysterious circumstances that not even the immortal know about >o>

Oh nooooo!! Poor Death, and poor War ;;A;; Satan must have been in a really bad mood to do that to them…while I think that Death and Pesto are completely justified in their fear of him, I don’t think that he would be downright abusive o.o;; Then again, he is Satan, he had to have done something to get the reputation of the root of all evil >A>

As the queen of laziness, I totally understand :P

Yeah, I can picture it now—a fight or something’s broken out in Hell and as War is getting her weapons ready Death jumps in front of her and he’s all “YOU GOTTA GET THROUGH ME FIRST IF YOU WANNA HURT HER, YO!” only for whatever’s threatening them to just toss him aside and War’s just like “Death…let me handle this stuff, okay?” |D

I know, Bjørn is always fine, but as his mom it’s my job to worry about him ^__^ Yeah, Sam is just going through trauma after trauma…

He’s got an entire house in there >o> This puts a whole new spin on the term “pocket dimension”

[opalai-pixel-witch]

It´s a me again! :D

 “Heya!! I’m so sorry it took me a while to get to this message, college and real life stuff has been kicking my ass ;;_;; I’m glad to hear that things are going well for you!!”

– I so sorry too! I have a lot of work and no time to answer you, I love talking with you about HH and MS but the life is heavy :,c

I was waiting they correctedmy proyect, and now I have to share them my progress :,D 👍

  “I mean…isn’t she? |D Jokes aside I agree with you, since the only talk of skating she’d done in the game was casually acknowledging the others’ obsession with it :P Still, I am super tempted to draw Pesto skating at some point >.>”

 –When you want, draw her, I’d love to see her

  “That reminds me of a weird headcannon I’ve been thinking about—I feel like with her being in charge of diseases and stuff, she has the power to remove an illness along with her ability to inflict it :o Maybe I’m just being dumb, but I thought it’d be cool…and yeah, I can totally picture that |D”

 – Maybe Pesto has that ability, although I can’t think of what she would use it for, unless she use it like a threat, like one of the paranormal investigators captures her friends and she makes him sick so he liberate them and if not liberate them, he will suffer the disease and if he liberates them, he will recover.

I wonder if she can kill, I have this doubt from MS where Death can’t kill and says “he wasn’t due” after killing Samon Guy, but War was killing gangsters, although that can be justified with the fact they were in a shootout and so it was time for them to die. And in HH we have Fam killing little Ramsey, I can only justify that with:

♦ Fam is capable of breaking the rules in order to carry out Satan’s orders;

♦ Or if you find are in another hell, horsemen can kill you even if it isn’t your time;

♦ Or the only world matters to them is humans world and if they kill beings from other worlds, it doesn’t matter, because they run the humans hell (in HH they make it clear that there are different hells for different creatures)

  “I dunno if I’d label the horsemen as dead though, I think they’re just some weird immortal entities :P”

 – About “the horsemen are already dead”I took from Death’s twitter, I have several headcanons from there. There he makes jokes like he is living the best moment of his death, for example XD

https://twitter.com/Death_4_Lyfe

;)

  “If dA is becoming deserted now, that only means their Eclipse scheme has failed =A= I wonder how long they’ve been banging their heads against the wall in regret…”

 – Sometimes that I think that all of Eclipse thing was a conspiracy from how bad it turned out, the owner of DA changed a few years ago, I wouldn’t be surprised if the new owner is the competition or he wants to sell the domain to someone else.

They took all the good things out of the page like: the search for groups by name and the counter to know in how many groups you shared the drawings, I have to multiply 2 x n to know it and obviously that gives me lazy and boring; the images are so big, if I want to find a folder that is the latest, I have to minimize the page, in fact, I use minimized DA; the only good thing they had, to look which groups are full, they took it out with an update! >:( >:( >:(

And it has several bugs: the images are repeated and if you try to save several images in a folder, less than half will be saved and that will force you to repeat the same annoying process over and over; and I hate that, when I open a list, it closes by itself because it doesn’t have the mouse over it! I mean, the only way to see a list is to scroll down with the mouse, but what if it leaves the list? “Oh, what a shame”, repeated the proses

  “I’ve also been looking at comics on Webtoons lately, my favorite one there is probably Clinic of Horrors :o”

 – In Webtoon I have read “Love advice from the great duke of hell ”, “Meow man” and “As per usual”, my favorite is the 1st one :3

  “Your new drawings are (as always) sooo cool!!!! O.O War looks super badass, and the one with Death casually approaching Sam is funny |D I also love the comic with his dad and Cobbles, the “you will have to believe me” line made me lose it >o>”

 – Thanks! ^^ Your drawings are AWESOME too! :D ♥

I still have several ideas, but 1st I need free time to make them :,)

Some drawings here ;v :

https://sta.sh/22aj2xyaqwj3?edit=1

-Your ultimate drawing: “Cannibalism” X,D 

Love our boi! ♥

“I see o: I can definitely picture her as the weapons-handler of the group! Odd thing, though—I don’t think Milky actually had any weapons in the game…unless his pockets are somehow bottomless and he keeps them in there :P I can also see the motivation for them going after Salmon Guy—after all, he has encountered one of the horsemen firsthand! The best witness for them would be Sam with all his new info, but of course because he’s the ultimate rich kid it would be super difficult for them to get to him |D”

 – It wouldn’t be strange Milky has infinite pockets like the Mask XD

I thought of Bat-dug as a supplier of weapons and special equipment cuz, at the beginning of HH, she tells Milky that she and Red eye have weapons, which makes sense, yes you’re going after War you aren’t going to use your fists or a twig XD

She has infinite pockets, obviously ;)

  “Haha yeah, Pesto would have to go to that Valhyr site constantly to translate everything >u>”

 – Pesto: Bjorn, you think you are so funny, you little…

XD

————

Aaaahhh life can be dumb and bad, I know that all too well >A> It’s great to hear from you again!

I’ll be sure to do that when I have time ^_^

Yeah, maybe something like that o: I was thinking that we don’t really know if anyone else has the power to make people sick, so if some entity out there was like that they might do that and try to interfere with her work somehow and she’d just be all “no STOP that you idiot” and undo it or something :P It’s kinda hard for me to describe, but it’s something like that? Of course her job is the exact opposite of healing others so she probably wouldn’t use it all that often >_>

Yeah, those theories sound about right :o I think that all the horsemen are capable of killing (and also resurrecting as we’ve seen with Death and Pesto), but they’re only allowed to do it when the job requires them to and they risk being penalized somehow—usually with Hell Jail—if they do that of their own accord. I feel like it was a rather desperate situation in Hell when Odin went on his rampage, and Satan didn’t have enough time or patience to instruct Famine on how he could handle it. And so, Famine being his usual cringy and edgy self, took it to extremes and get Ramsey killed…so I think we can chalk that incident up to recklessness and a lack of preparation.

Oh yeah, I’ve looked through both his and Pesto’s accounts before but I guess I forgot about those :P There do seem to be some cases of early installment weirdness, though…like, apparently back in 2017 they were addressing Pesto with he/him pronouns??? I ain’t saying I got a new headcanon…but I do…maybe?

It seems that they tried to give it a smoother or cleaner look, but not only does it look totally boring—it’s also super inconvenient to use! Yaaaaay!! -______- Along with what you’ve mentioned, they’ve made browsing stuff super difficult. Why, oh why aren’t we allowed to search through categories anymore??? This is only making the creepier artworks harder to avoid ;;A;; Plus everything feels so slow and disorganized…dA has truly died by its own hand =A=

Hmmm, I may have to check those out! I would like to get in the habit of trying new things but my comfort zone is just so…comfy >o>

THE OTP IS BACK! ^o^ Protective War is so cool—and we all know Death would do the same for her >u> And that drawing of Death and Lil Foxbro is so adorable!! And it’s also super cool to see Sam, Bjørn and Cassiel hanging out together ^_^ My poor son though ;-;

I’m glad you liked the caption |D I was thinking about making it more dramatic, all like “OH NOOOO!!!! BJØRN IS A CANNIBAL!!!!” but I decided not to do that :P Nothing but love for the little pumpkin pie ^_^

You know, that first scene with him where he’s spying did make me wonder…he had his tracker-thing in one hand and a coffee in the other, and then he somehow takes his goggles off at the end?? Maybe he does have limitless pockets… (making secret plans to steal Milky’s coat later)

That makes sense to me :o But I wonder why Milky didn’t have a weapon—even if he’s going to Helheim, a presumably peaceful afterlife, these are still the horsemen he’s dealing with…there’s definitely some infinite pocket action going on >_>

Bjørn: Don’t hurt me, I am just baby c: