#I’M UNHEALTHILY OBSESSED

[nearlycassidy]

there’s no escaping the wammy boys, light-o!

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[chheese-mmmhh]

i have never read a single comic but this feels right

[linuxealcipher]

Hi @certified-handler when can we kiss him 🥺❔

[dearabsolutelynoone]

“Two bigger fools in love had yet to be born. It was endearing to watch, even if it did leave him with a slight pang of jealousy.” - Gregory Bridgerton’s POV

Julia Quinn, On the Way to the Wedding (Bridgertons, #8)

[theharddeck]

kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit (hangman x reader)

Pairing: hangman x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: hangman's fwb convinces him to try something new

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, sex, choking kink, some asphyxiation, breathplay, slight slight slight degradation (mostly condescension, but if that's a no for you, maybe this isn't the one)

Length: 4.5k

title from yet another tanner adell song bb.

for @fuckyeahhangman , also welcome to my baby tag list @peakyrogers @winterrebel04@callsign-valley 💙

It wasn’t often that you saw an expression of absolute shock on Hangman’s face, his pretty jaw slack and his eyes wide, blinking owlishly at you, uncertain if he’d heard you correctly when you told him you wanted him to choke you.

You were out on the tarmac, running post-op inspections on your planes, and, like always, you and the golden boy were the last ones out. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but you’d come over to his F-18 after your inspection was done, to find Jake half-out of his flight suit and up to his elbows in grease, and the sight had ripped a confession out of you. 

You were out on the tarmac, running post-op inspections on your planes, and, like always, you and the golden boy were the last ones out. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but you’d come over to his F-18 after your inspection was done, to find Jake half-out of his flight suit and up to his elbows in grease, and the sight had ripped a confession out of you. 

Jake processed your words slowly, setting down the wrench he’d had in his hands, bracing himself on his bent knees to stand up. 

Fuck, his hands. 

He had broad palms and long fingers that looked entirely too good wrapped around a yoke.

You knew what else they’d look good around.

But no one expected that of you. 

You were the sweet one, the pilot who wore tinted chapstick and baked when she got stressed, so everyone thought they had you figured out. Just because you weren’t intense like Phoenix or Halo, everyone thought you were just the sweetest thing.

And you could be.

You could also be…more.

Jake’s expression cleared as he walked over to you, curiosity replacing the surprise in his eyes, as he got closer to you. 

“Did I hear that right, sweetheart?” he asked, and your stomach flipped at the intensity in his expression. 

You lifted your chin stubbornly as Jake got closer to you, holding his gaze and not saying anything else. Jake licked his lips, the motion bringing your eyes down to his mouth, as he smiled slightly, leaning towards you.

“You want me,” he whispered, his breath warm on the outside of your ear, “to choke you?”

All told, you were really proud of yourself for not melting into a puddle on the tarmac when he repeated your words back to you in his low drawl. 

“Yes please,” you breathed, relieved beyond measure that no one else was around to see you go weak in the knees at six words from Hangman. 

Jake hummed, a sound so deep in his chest it almost sounded like a purr. He pulled back to look at you, his fair eyes squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “And you thought you’d just tell me, in broad daylight, when I can’t do a damn thing about it?”

In your defense, you hadn’t meant to tell him. 

Then you’d spent the afternoon listening to him bark instructions to the rest of the team in the air, and come by his F-18 to find him with his messy hair, wrestling with the landing gear with hand tools, and it had slipped out of you.

But he didn’t know that, so you smiled, lifting a shoulder casually. “Just wanted you to know,” you told him, unaffectedly.  

Jake knew it was bullshit, his eyes narrowing even as his own smile deepened. 

“I’ll see you after dinner,” he backed away from you, turning towards his aircraft and muttering over his shoulder, “otherwise I’ll do something that’ll get us both court martialed.”

A shiver went through you at his words, but he was right—this wasn’t the time or place for considering the ramifications of what he’d asked you.

Later, you pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down to stop yourself from biting your nails as you sat perched on the side of your bunk, looking between your watch, your phone, and the clock over the door. Dinner had come and gone and it felt like hours ago, and doubt was eating away at you. 

What you had with Jake was good—very good. 

No strings, no complications, no complaints. He treated you like something fiercely desirable, and it had been good…but you’d been on drills with him as team lead.

You knew how intense Hangman could be. 

You knew how Jake sounded when he wanted something, you knew how he went after something in the sky with zero thought for anyone that couldn’t keep up. And you always heard that roughness when you started, but somewhere between working you two up and collapsing after the fact, he reined himself back to something gentle. 

You were so tired of gentle.

But maybe he wasn’t being gentle, maybe he wasn’t holding back on you; it wasn’t what he wanted from your arrangement. 

Maybe he wasn’t here yet because he wasn’t sure, maybe he was trying to figure out a way to gently—

The door handle turned, and you looked up sharply as Jake let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, and you heard the snick of the lock as he flicked it behind him. He’d showered since dinner, and his hair was still damp, the edges falling to just above where a worn sweatshirt hung loosely across his shoulders.

He had great shoulders.

It was a weird thing to notice in a man, but on Jake it wasn’t just that he spent a ton of time at the gym, it was how he carried himself. Proud and confident, cocky enough to be annoying, if he wasn’t good enough to back it up.

He tilted his head back against the door, looking at you, his eyes glittering in the low light. 

You waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you, over the Eagles tank you’d cut the sleeves off of, your pajama shorts riding up on your thighs, crossed over each other as you sat primly on the bunk.

You licked your lips nervously, and Jake swore under his breath, rubbing his hand over his jaw, his eyes darting down to your tongue. 

“If you don’t want to, you should tell me,” you blurted, and Jake’s eyes snapped back up to you.

“Don’t want to-–” he parrotted, breaking off on a short laugh. “Baby, there’s precious little I don’t want to do to you.”

His words settled over you, his rough tone exactly what had sparked all this. 

“Okay,” you said, standing up slowly. 

Jake’s eyes raked down your body but he stayed by the door. He sighed, exasperated, and you crossed the room as you waited for him to tell you what was going through his mind. He crossed his arms, frowning down at them. 

“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,” he admitted.

You blinked. You were moments away from making a joke about whether or not Jake knew his own strength, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes, which settled heavily over you. 

Was this something deeper?

“Jake…” you started, and he looked back at you, lifting his chin defiantly. In his eyes, you saw a guardedness that you hated, that you wanted to chase away. 

“Hey,” you said, pretty stubborn yourself, “I trust you.”

Jake’s jaw clenched, and you knew the only thing keeping his eyes locked on yours was the determination to not be the one who looked away first. 

“I trust you,” you repeated. 

He sighed, a long, drawn out sound. He didn’t look convinced, but you figured that was a longer conversation than you were equipped for. You reached for him, your fingers trailing down his forearm to one of his hands, fingers loose in front of him.  

“I trust you,” you said again, and you lifted his huge hand to your neck. 

Jake swallowed, eyes looking between yours, then at his hand against your throat. He drew in a long breath, adjusting to the prospect and letting you settle into it as well, and a part of you relaxed when you saw him do the same. 

Fuck, just having him here was better than you’d expected.

His fingers were broad and warm, and they spanned across your neck, covering so much more of you than you’d anticipated. His strong fingers, hands that kept a fifteen-ton machine in the sky, just over your windpipe—it was overwhelming to think about, and he hadn’t even pressed down.

Jake’s thumb traced up the side of your throat, and you knew he could feel your pulse, as it rapidly quickened.

“Baby…” he started, concern and hunger warring in his eyes. 

You tilted your head back, pushing your throat further into his hand. 

“Try me, Hangman,” you whispered.

His jaw clenched, then released, and then his fingers curled slightly around your throat. He wasn’t squeezing, wasn’t anywhere close to cutting off your airflow, it was just a tightening of his thumb, and a pressure from his other fingers. Still, you couldn’t stop your eyes from fluttering closed, at the promise and potential from that simple touch.

Jake let out a slow breath, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, his chin jerked to the side. The concern was gone from his expression, replaced by soft awe as he looked down at you.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he muttered. “You really want this, huh?”

And there were a couple of ways you could answer him. 

You could tell him yes, plead for him to keep going. You could lean further into his touch, pull him closer, ask for more. 

Or…

You reached for Jake’s other hand, the one not around your throat. You meant for the movement to have finesse, but as soon as your joined hands brushed the bottom of your tank, Jake knew where you were going with this. His eyes darkened as you set his hand inside of your pajama shorts, and he followed through on your unspoken instruction. Jake hummed quietly, curious, his eyes following his hand as it traveled between the thin fabric and your body, reaching towards the apex of your thighs. 

“Sweet thing,” Jake breathed. “No underwear tonight?”

You shook your head, steadying yourself on his chest as his hand moved over you, the backs of his knuckles brushing over your skin as he deliberately lingered. He turned his wrist and his fingers pulled over your center, causing you to shudder.

Jake inhaled sharply, his lips parting as he looked back at you.

“Baby, how long have you been this wet?”

He pressed a thick finger through your folds, and your eyes fell closed as he pulled it back towards him. You knew you were unsteady on your feet, but you knew that Jake needed to feel how badly you wanted this, wanted it with him.    

“Baby,” Jake said again, and you looked up at him, so close to you, his pretty face stern and focused. You wet your lips, looking back at him, and waited. 

His eyes narrowed, and then he pressed harder with the hand at your throat. Your knees actually buckled, and Jakes clicked his tongue, shaking his head. 

“I’m not even squeezing that hard, baby,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone that had your skin heating. “Use your words, come on.”

Fuck, this was what you wanted.

For Jake to lean into the power he had over you, to control your pleasure, to command it out of you. 

“Since I saw you on the tarmac,” you whispered, voice raspy, and Jake’s hand on your throat loosened, his thumb running up the side of your neck, soothing. 

“See, that wasn’t so difficult,” he murmured, and your hips jerked forward when his hand worked over your core again. Jake added another finger to the pull, rubbing lightly over your clit before dipping back between your legs. You whimpered when he pressed his middle finger into your entrance, a slow intrusion that had you clutching at his forearm. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re practically dripping,” Jake said quietly, his voice tight. “Pulling me in like a damn vice.”

His fingers felt so good, working over and in you, and his voice was always the perfect addition. You widened your legs, wanting more of his touch, and Jake chuckled, a low and pleased sound. 

“On the bed, baby,” he said, his voice low. “I want to see you.”

His thumb brushed your neck again and then he let go of you carefully, pulling his hand out of your shorts. You would’ve protested, but he immediately set to peeling off his sweatshirt and pushing down his pants, and your mouth felt dry at the sight of him. You scrambled to comply, pulling your tank off and kicking the shorts down, before falling back to the bed. 

You landed on the edge of it and a moment later Jake was on top of you, every inch of his hard body pressed into yours. He was warm and so close, perfect, and his hands grazed up your body to hold your wrists tightly, before he kissed you, hard. 

His mouth moved over yours hungrily, and your lips parted for him, a moan slipping out of you at the first sweep of his tongue. You relaxed under him, moving your hands to check his hold on your wrists, but finding them secure. Jake’s grip tightened when he felt your wrists flex, and his hips ground into you, slow. 

The drag of him, heavy and hot and so close, was perfect, and your moan was muffled against Jake’s mouth. He lifted slightly to turn your head with his nose, nuzzling into your neck to kiss you sloppily as he ground himself over you again. 

“Jake,” you cried, unable to process how good it was, how quickly.

“That’s how I feel, baby,” Jake said, his voice sounding almost angry. “You look so fucking good, and then knowing what it is that got you this messy for me, fuck–” 

He broke off, his hips driving into you again, and your head tipped back against the mattress. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, and the thought that Jake might feel a fraction of as frantic as you did, was overwhelming. 

Jake pushed away from you, leaning off the bed, to reach back for his discarded sweatpants. He fished a condom out of one of the pockets, rising up on his knees to roll it over his length, and you pushed down the irrational disappointment that rose up inside of you. 

It was good to be safe, especially when you guys weren’t anything. 

Still. 

The additional layer, so early on, seemed like a harsh reminder of just how transient this thing between you was. 

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t make that face.”

At Jake’s words, you quickly schooled your expression, looking back up to meet his eyes, and smiling automatically. 

“Gone,” you told him flippantly, but Jake looked at you for a long moment. 

He wasn’t careful, nothing so precious, but he held your eyes until the last moment when he leaned down to kiss you again. Your own eyes slid closed as he brushed his lips against yours, soft kisses, a gentle asking of permission. 

You met him, you always did, and eventually his mouth grew firmer, more insistent, as he settled over you again. Your hands roamed up his sides, over his strong shoulders and over his back, where you could feel him moving over you. You pulled at him, wanting him closer, loving the way you could feel his muscles working as his body hovered over you. He shifted, propping himself on his elbows so he could reach over to grope your chest. 

Grope was the right word, absolutely lacking in finesse, wanting to feel your soft skin under his fingers, as much and as soon as possible. Your back arched into his touch, pushing your breasts into his broad palms as Jake kissed you firmly. He pulled back, making his way down your face, your neck, your chest, and you lay back against the bed, gasping. His kisses were feather light, then nibbles, then he laved at you with his tongue before his teeth scraped against your nipples. 

One of your hands drove from his back to his hair, tangling in the coarse strands and pulling when his mouth sent ribbons of pleasure to your core. Jake pulled back to look at you, and your stomach clenched at the sight of his swollen lips, flushed cheeks, his color high from chasing your pleasure. 

You smiled at him, dopily, and his teeth flashed before he went back to your chest. While his mouth worked one breast, his hand worshiped the other, pulling and pressing and kneading and squeezing, lifting when his mouth switched between the two. His hips were gently rocking into yours, his cock lengthening against your stomach, and the awareness of him felt like a tease. 

You reached down to wrap your hand around him, and Jake’s hips stuttered as you took him in your hand. 

He felt heavy, and Jake’s next kisses felt more like bites, as he was distracted by your touch. You pulled your hand up his length, whimpering at how thick he felt, how your fingers couldn’t touch around him, how good he would stretch you. How full of him you’d feel, his hips rocking into yours–

One of Jake’s hands fell to your waist, gripping at the flesh there, and you realized you were grinding up into his thigh. He shifted, pressing down into you, and guiding the motion of your hips as you rolled against him.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he said, his breath warm against your chest. “Love feeling you working yourself up, waiting for this cock.”

His words had you fisting him tighter, and Jake’s hips jerked. 

“Impatient,” he muttered, reaching down to push your hand away from him. 

You resisted the urge to whine in protest, assuaged when you felt him reaching between the two of you to guide his cock to your entrance. He dragged his tip against your folds, and you fisted the hand in his hair, pulling sharply enough that Jake grunted, his forehead resting against your sternum.

“Stop teasing,” you gasped, and Jake laughed darkly against your skin. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, pushing his cock through your folds maddeningly slow, making no move to push deeper, “I know you can ask nicer than that.”

“Please, Jake,” you cried, not even embarrassed of how quickly you switched to begging. He was right there, you knew he’d fill you so good, and you’d been waiting for so long for this. “Need your cock, baby, please.”

“You need me,” Jake repeated smugly, accompanied by another slow drag.

“Yes, I do,” you whimpered. “God, Jake, please–”

“You always ask so prettily when you’re aching for me, baby,” Jake murmured, pulling back and shifting to line himself up to you. You turned your hips up, gasping with relief when you felt his head pressing into you. You moaned brokenly, the slow push filling you with a perfect ache, as Jake eased his cock into you.

Fuck, he filled you so well. 

You felt yourself stretching, stretching, his hot cock searing you as he pushed against your walls. You could feel your thighs trembling as Jake’s hips pressed you into the bed, the intrusion steady and immutable. Jake kept pushing until he was fully seated, his thighs tight against yours, and you feel dizzy with how good it is. 

“Now she’s quiet,” Jake said, his voice strained. “Stuffed with my cock like my baby wanted, and now she’s got nothing to say.”

“It’s so fucking good, Jake,” you whisper, and he groaned quietly. “You’re so good.”

“That’s right, baby,” Jake said, pulling back slightly. When he rocked his hips back, his cock dragged along your inner walls, raking a moan out of you. He pushed back in, still slow, still intoxicating, and you waited for your body to adjust to him.

“Shit, darlin’, you feel too good and you sound too wrecked; I can’t—” Jake broke off as he bottomed out inside of you. “Alright, angel, take a deep breath.” 

You pulled in a breath without question, but it immediately punched out of you when you felt Jake’s hand come back to your neck. His hand settled lightly, similar to his first touch, just finding you, feeling you. He pulled out of you, and when your body bowed off the bed, chasing after him, Jake pressed his fingers down, and a whine tore out of you.

Jake jolted at the sound, his hips grinding forward at the sound. 

“You’re so fucking hungry for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he gritted, and his thumb pressed harder. “God, I can feel this cunt just pulling me in, baby.”

You clenched down on him, his words driving you higher, as the stretch of him eased and you were able to take him deeper. It felt so good, his cock, his hands, and his words creating the perfect storm. It was just what you needed, him controlling every element of your pleasure like this, owning all of it. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jake praised, his rhythm speeding up as your body relaxed further against him. “ I feel you clenching on me, every time I squeeze just a little bit tighter, fuck, why is that so hot, baby—”

Your eyes fluttered as he pumped into you, one of your hands running up Jake’s arm to encourage him. He still was holding you more in place than anything, just a suggestion of pressure, and even that bit was so damn good, but you wanted more. 

Your fingers closed over his hand on your throat and you squeezed over his fingers. 

“Shit, angel,” Jake groaned, his hips jerking harder as he tightened his hand experimentally. “Are you sure?”

As his grip tightened, you felt a buzz spread over your body, and your eyes rolled back at the intensity of his touch. 

“Jake, baby, fuck,” you rasped, barely intelligible, but he heard you or knew what you meant, because his thrusts got even deeper. 

“You like that, baby?” Jake asked, driving into you. “My hand on your throat, my cock so deep in your cunt, pushing the air out of you?”

Your eyes were screwed shut as sensations bowled over you, warm and hazy and so damn good, and your hand rubbed his forearm encouragingly. Between his rough thrusts and his firm grasp on your throat, you felt utterly possessed, taken, like the answer to the driving need pulsing through Jake could only be found in you. The buzzy sensation spread and you moaned, or you meant to, but sound wasn’t coming past Jake’s hand, and you felt your body lightening, even as the pull at your core got more leaden. 

Fuck, you couldn’t be there already, could you?

You vaguely felt Jake pull back to look at you, but you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think, only hazy pressure and need coiling through your body. You felt your arms going slack, not just from oxygen deprivation but from the reality that Jake was absolutely possessing you. Owning you, fucking you hard enough for the both of you, living up to the trust he hadn’t wanted you to give him.

You opened your eyes, squinting up at him through the haze of pleasure and pressure. 

His face was flushed over you, shoulders and jaw tight with exertion, but his eyes were bright and careful, watching you. You let go of his forearm, reaching up to brush some of his hair away from his face, holding his cheek for a moment. 

Jake’s head dropped slightly for a moment, his pace slowing as he recovered, looking up at you and shaking his head. 

“I told you not to look at me like that, angel,” he said quietly, and you shook your head because it wasn’t the same. 

But you saw when determination set in behind his eyes, and he reached under you to lift your hips. Your back bowed off the bed as the angle changed, Jake’s thrusts lodging impossibly deeper inside of you as his pace increased. The buzzing got more intense as he pressed down harder on your throat and Jake’s hips snapped into yours as he fucked into you. You could sob from the intensity of it, how hot and desperate it felt, how heavy and feral, and then he dipped his head to your neck. 

“Baby, you feel too fucking good; I need you to come,” he groaned, and you nodded as best you could against his hand. You were close, you knew you were close, and hearing the desperation on his voice was pushing you further.  

“Come on, angel,” Jake said, and he fucked into you faster, deeper, and he let go of your throat suddenly. 

You gasped in a deep breath, the haze evaporating as oxygen rushed through your veins. Everything that had been muted felt acutely intense, biting and sharp, and you sobbed out a moan as your orgasm shattered through you. It felt almost painful, like noonday sun bursting through midnight. You collapsed back onto the bed, boneless, your chest heaving and your body shaking. 

“Fuck, angel, that was the most beautiful thing, fucking unreal, you’re so good, baby,” Jake choked, his thrusts growing more desperate. “You did so good, baby, giving it to me like that, fuck, baby—”

Jake buried his face in your chest as he came, his long moan vibrating across your body, as he pumped into you. His hips continued to work as he came, driving into you and wringing his orgasm out as he worked through it. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, smooth over his strong shoulders and repeat his words back to him—the most beautiful thing, so good, how he did so good. But your limbs were absolutely molten, numb against the bed as you trembled quietly, still recovering. 

Jake’s hips stilled, and the room seemed silent after the sounds of your combined panting and moans. The air felt warm, dreamlike, or maybe that was your body still adjusting. You became aware that Jake’s hands had started moving slowly across your skin. Without lifting himself off your chest, his fingers were smoothing, carefully exploring, spreading across you as he checked over you. 

“Need something, Hangman?” you asked, your voice sounding rough. At the sound of it, Jake drew in a sharp breath and pushed himself off of you, propping himself up to look at you. 

“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly, and his eyes were intent as they followed his hands, still roaming over you.

“Honestly, Jake,” you said, clearing your throat, “I think ‘okay’, is a disservice to how I feel right now.”

Jake smiled, something quick, his eyes crinkling even when his lips pursed. He still looked uncertain, which did things to your heart that you didn’t want to contemplate, so you offered him a smile of your own. 

“I feel like jelly; I don’t think I can come up to you,” you told him. “So will you just come here?”

He grinned, bright like starshine, and crawled up the bed. His lips were gentle when he kissed you, and you kissed him back languidly. 

There was a lot of the night left, and a lot of uncertainty left, but you put into your kiss all the things he didn’t want to hear you say–the things you hoped he knew, the things he didn’t want to believe, and the way that you’d never for a moment doubted whether his hands were the right place to put your trust.

[therealvampira]

I’ve seen a few people talk about a 1950s Black Butler AU in the past, BUT imagine Grell in the early 2000s; I feel like she’d honestly love it tbh- the fashion, the music, AND the movies and stuff.

[meraarts]

Guess who just found out James Wilson’s initials are J. E. W.

Every day on this planet is torment I hate this very normal show so much

[lesbabie-ao3]

i’m like the guy rolling the boulder, but instead of a boulder is a crippling persona 5 addiction

[afterdark777]

I just got done watching carol for the first time

At 4 am

I am not okay

[wildmelon]

getting called parasocial on bg3 reddit because slaughtering innocents and consequently upsetting characters i like makes me sad even though it’s jUsT a ViDeO gAmE

[william-teddy-grahams]

Hannibal NBC gave us unrealistic expectations.

Will got himself a hot rich boyfriend by being an unsocial weirdo with seven dogs and mental health issues.

I’m an unsocial weirdo with 27 houseplants and mental health issues, but I’m still alone. Why isn’t anyone showing up with breakfast for me? Framing me for their crimes? Drawing gay fanart of us? I’m clearly prime material for it.

Lies spread by the media.

[thedownfallofamerica]

Shout out to the 2 crew!!

My very own Mishka Beverly Paw Paw II

[scarletenvy]

sorry but what an absolutely fucking unhinged way to start a book by having a character think abt how hard he needs to win the cup for his captain like i,,,,, have no words

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

Reacting to Images from things you don’t even Go To yet and getting absolutely psyched about it (and then frustrated and excited because you NEED to Go There) aaaaaahdjrirjfbxbskorfhfotofhahsmdm

[despexco]

I somehow ended up a very weird side of anti Hazbin Hotel TikTok. It’s not people criticizing the show for swearing every 2 minutes, or people hating Vivzie, or even normal Christian protests.

People are posting depictions of the actual Archangel Michael and invoking his name to slaughter the Hazbin Hotel.

??????

What? Why? They’re acting like it’s real. 😭