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#face

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Happy birthday, Jack.

The day that Jack's father brought him a guitar from the outside world's "ordinary persons" was the day that changed him forever.

#immensely shitty please don't pay attention to me #para #darkwoodtask

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HAIL MOTHER RUSSIA.

Does this suit your fancy, my friend? 

#hi i play jack #my gif is small #we have big dicks i promise

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Okay, one, Christian has more self-control than you're giving the poor bastard credit for. Two, your arguments are shallow and weak and it's hurting what's left of my soul. And three, if you don't shut your goddamn trap, I'm going to fuck you up in ways your imagination is incapable of fathoming. I can make sure you wake up underwater in Mother Russia, boy.

“I’d say bite me but I just know you would take it all to literal….”

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#FUCKIN DEON

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I’m sorry to interrupt here, but finally the dying moose that could be heard from the hall ended it’s miserable life and I can hear again.

*Peers around the room.* Oh, wait, my apologies, was that your playing?  Interesting how I managed the catch the end of your little rant though and let me just get this in:

Do you even hear the words leaving that arrogant, cocksucking, pretty-boy mouth of yours? Are you even aware of who it is you’re speaking to? Before you go and begin spouting off to any bastard who shares his opinion that differs from yours, at least be wary of who you’re talking to.

With that in mind, let me explain to you what exactly just went down. This pale motherfucker here informed you of your wretched guitar playing skills and you went along and insulted the fuck out of him. That is a whole new level of not okay. This man here is Jack White, and he was born with a fucking guitar in his hands. You haven’t had the pleasure of living with him, so you are completely oblivious to the talent that drips from his pores. And not only does he reek of insane musical abilities, he also could rip your innards out, strangle you with them, and laugh as the light slowly fades from those precious puppy eyes.

And let’s get one thing straight: Talk shit, get hit.

You just blew open the gates of Hell, motherfucker. I’d start running for the holy water, if I were you.

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Your amateur cacophony that you call guitar playing isn't appreciated here.

If my guitar playing is to loud fucking deal with it right now, alright? I just need to play.

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"My words are anything but empty, they hold more truth than anything that has came from your mouth in your existence's entirety." Jack seethed, trembling in anger. "Your viewpoint on age is indeed a valid argument but contrary to your beliefs, it's not age or how you spend your time that matters. It has more to do with maturity levels above anything else. Maturity is something you appear to be severely lacking, if your insubstantial arguments and tendentious arguments indicate anything about your thought process."

"You know jack shit about my kind and what we do, you pathetic excuse for a hell-dweller." He cocked an eyebrow, challenging the other man's burning stare. "Even with your prior knowledge you demonstrated upon our first meeting, you're still clueless about what I've done and what I'm capable of. You think I killed your grandfather by knocking on the fucking wall? I did no such thing. I took him by the throat and took joy in watching the light drain from his dull, sunken eyes. It was fascinating to me. Truly fascinating so I found another weary miner and did something of the same sort. I've only knocked but a mere two dozen or so times, from what my memory allows."

"You put yourself in such a position that you seem so high and mighty but you aren't. You really fucking aren't, Ronnie." Jack snarled, enunciating each word clearly with a passion that couldn't be replicated, even in the hottest fury. "I would take pleasure in relieving you of your pitiful existence. To despoil you of all of your dearest possessions, only to set them ablaze and laugh in the face of the inferno. You want to die, schwanzlutscher. I can sense it. It radiates from your being and engulfs me entirely. It's a pathetic way to go through life, trudging on with a deathwish. I can't recall a time when I've felt the same. I feel inclined to put you out of your misery," Jack paused as Ronnie's eyes darkened.

The burning, twisting sensation returned to his gut and his palms began to itch. It was almost as if his vision went red and a target was painted on the demon's forehead. Jack cocked his head to the side and watched the other closely, focus slowly drifting down to the creature's throat. He watched the other swallow and a malicious grin spread across his pale face. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it." He mumbled, a teasing tone evident in his words. This Radke took after the other Radke Jack was familiar with. So after taking another swig of the nearly forgotten alcohol, Jack did what any other sane, sensible person would do.

The wichtlan lunged forwards and wrapped his calloused hands around the demon's throat, compressing just enough to leave the other struggling to intake air, nearly growling as he did so. Jack's conscious had fled his head long ago so there was nothing there to scream at him that what he was doing is wrong. To some degree, Jack was aware it was wrong but his anger overrode any worries of doubts left in his head. "As I was saying," He spat, tightening his grip slightly. "I feel inclined to put you out of your misery, but you don't deserve the satisfaction."

A Pill To Make You Numb || Ronnie Radke & Jack White

The atmosphere churned with the pale man as he moved from the safety of his sheets to take the bottle from the demon who sat crumpled at the foot of the wall. Ronnie groaned quietly as he covered his face with his hands when Jack caused a wall of stiff aura to slam into his skull, causing the pounding that had began to slip away from the alcohol that was now circulating through is system to return again to match it’s previous intensity. When the wichtlan handed the bottle back, Ronnie feverishly put the bottle back to his lips to take another swallow of the fiery liquid.

The bottle slipped from his fingers as the pressure suddenly increased and he felt his skull almost physically shatter against the abrupt force. His teeth grit hard together, his hands flying into his hair as the violent atmosphere seemed to throw him deep into the pits of Hell all over again. It was a sensation that shouldn’t be felt on earth. Hatred, raw anger, white-hot fury, all of the darkest, nastiest emotions seemed to burst from the pale faced man as he crouched eye level to the demon who tried to curl within himself in an effort to escape the invisible hellfires. Whimpers of distress fell from his lips as his limbs began to vibrate as the force swallowed him.

His voice sliced at him, each word a razor-like blade, dipped in a venomous extract that would burn his skin on the inside, leaving his rubbing viciously at his arms in an attempt to wipe away the charring skin that didn’t exist. Not only did they break down the hurting tattooed man, but they also ignited the demonic creature that couldn’t break, no matter how much stress was placed upon it. It was an internal battle between anger and pain, both options resulting in an agony that would prove unbearable, but the risk was irrelevant, for the demon lacked any control over his voice or limbs.

“Your words are empty, you bastard. Age is a number, it all depends on how you spend those days, and if my memory isn’t failing me, you spent your lifetimes hidden in shadows, sneaking around miners, taking their life away with a few knocks on the wall, stealing their food when they aren’t looking” The demon spat out, his voice remarkably stronger than he had expected, his eyes lifting to burn into the pale man’s blazing brown irises.

“You threaten to bring forth you dear friend Death when you know nothing about my relationship with Her black kiss. So, please, take my life. End it all, you pathetic excuse for a being.” His voice began to raise into a yell, his words sharp and cutting, escaping his mouth freely without a hint of self-doubt or regret. “I fear nothing except the pit itself, but just know that I will climb out and before you have the chance even utter a Latin phrase, your vocal chords will be ripped from your throat and buried deep into your chest.” Ronnie spewed back, his irises taking on a black abyssal color as his rage became prominent, his fingers curling tightly into fists, his nails breaking the skin of his palm as he restrained himself from slashing at the man’s pale face that was dangerously close to his own.

#para #thou shall not trifle with jack white

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Jack nodded weakly. "Understandable," he rasped, grasping the bedsheets as a wave of pain hit him. The wichtlan whimpered and shut his eyes. "Fuck, yeah, I know what you mean. The same thing is happeni-" Jack paused, hissing in pain. "-ng to me."

"Worse than the hallway," he repeated, glancing over to the demon. Jack had only been out of the room once since this whole event started and that one time caused all of his pain to start. "Tone it down?" Jack grimaced, laughing a dry, bitter laugh. "You're going to sit there and  tell me to tone it down? Don't you dare to think you can overpower me." The room seemed to become much darker as Jack rose from his bed. The pain in his body turned into a raging fire that ignited his bones and produced a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

Jack took the bottle, briefly glancing at it before taking a swig. He was overwhelmed by the burning sensation and coughed. There was all sorts of alcohol in the mines, usually brought by miners and robbed from them by the wichtlein, but Jack had never tasted any this strong. He coughed again, handing the bottle back. Over the years, Jack built up an impressive tolerance so the liquid had made an effect, but not nearly enough to make him tipsy. Instead, it merely fueled the fire.

"Tone it down." He scoffed, crouching down to eye level with Ronnie. "I cannot fathom how you could say such a presumptuous thing to me. Me. Ronnie, have you taken a moment to analyze this? I am in my mid-600's, maybe early 700's. You're a mere 231, if my memory isn't failing me. That's about a 400 year difference. 400 years of experience I have that you lack. I could do horrific things to you, my dearest." His eyes sparkled in a wicked, gleeful way. "I could reach right into your chest and rip your heart out, hold it above you, and watch the light drain from your eyes. I could exorcise you straight back to hell for a lifetime or two of damnation then do it again after you've escaped. Or I could do what I was born with and just fucking knock, leaving you paranoid for what seems like a lifetime, but it may only be ten minutes. Maybe ten years. I'd never tell you shit. Tell me, mein freund, how do you expect me to tone it down, when this is just a storm in the midst of a hurricane?"

A Pill To Make You Numb || Ronnie Radke & Jack White

The demon’s mind was too clouded by pain to even notice the dark creature still lingering in his room. It was went Jack had slumped against the wall near Ronnie he realized why the bedroom seemed worse than anywhere else. Not only did Jack already have an extremely overwhelming aura, but he too seemed to have also been affected by this odd new increase in emotions, causing the demon’s head to pound even worse than before.

Ronnie scowled as he put the bottle to his lips again and forced the liquid down again. His demon had built such a resistance to alcohol that he needed the nastiest stuff to even relatively feel somewhat numb. He peered over to the pale faced man beside him as he grimaced, his long slender fingers curling and uncurling in his wavy black locks as emotions struck him violently too. Ronnie could sense exactly what was wracking his body and it didn’t help in the slightest his own mental stability.

“Making it stop.” Ronnie replied, his voice wavering as he ran a decorated hand through his hair, tugging on the ends. “It’s like the entire school exploded into an endless war between emotions and the battlefield is living within my skull.” He growled weakly, taking another painful swig.

“Fucking aye, Jacky, you’re even worse than the hallway.” He admitted, rubbing anxiously at his scalp as another wave of fury and psychotic agony from the man beside him engulfed the helpless demon. “Tone it down, fuck, please.” He whimpered, his voice breaking off at the end as he offered the bottle of clear liquid to the wichtlan, hoping that this would too numb the violent, crashing emotions that emitted from the pale man.

#para

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#jams

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There very well might be, but I am only a mere wichtlan and know next to nothing of witchcraft. Although entertaining, it does come with consequences. Consequences that I am rather familiar with but again, I'd rather not speak of it. It is best if we don't turn the children into blood thirsty monsters, even with the aid of magic.

A small community, yes. My bloodline was very well respected up until not too long ago and that is entirely my fault. Youngest of 10 and the only one to completely lose control. Only one to be exiled. Great, isn't it?

Modern society is certainly a change, I'll say. Different customs, I don't know how the hell I ended up in New York. I don't understand people or anything, really. My roommate asked for me to bring him some nugget and I didn't know and I still don't know what the actual hell a nugget is. Technology. I don't get any of it. Basically, everything is confusing and my head hurts most of the time.

Strange...

Indeed. There is only one that I know of that’s older, but we’re not exactly talking about my past lives here. I also have read Stoker’s review of the life of Vlad Tepes, and though I found it entertaining, I found it to be rather inaccurate. But then again, like you, that is a conversation that I am unwilling to go into at this point in time. 

I’m wondering if there is a way to just amplify all of the negative emotions? If anything, it would be hilarious to see absolutely everybody lose their head at the exact same time. They might even undo themselves. Blood riots in the hallways instead of sex riots with vibrators everywhere. Then again, we must always think of the children. 

A small community? Really? How is modern society treating you? Has there been anything that has confused you? 

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#face #just going to casually leave this here.

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#face

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Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Jack’s feet hit the floor, the sound echoing through the stone hallways, the steps keeping the same immutable pattern.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip. A dark liquid hit the floor in a similar, persistent pattern to Jack's footsteps. The liquid, presumably blood, coated Jack's pale body and left a trail behind him.

Thump thump thump thump. Jack moved faster, a wicked grin twisting it's way across his features. He made haste down multiple more hallways before he met his match.

Drip drip drip drip. The poor girl put up a valiant fight, only for Jack to rip her heart right out of her chest and watch her bleed out, the same wicked grin still plastered across his face.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Jack strolled leisurely now, still holding onto his prize. Blood stained his skin and clothes, along with the floor as he walked. Slaughter is a sloppy business.

Drip, drip. Drip, drip. Jack lifted the heart to his mouth with a defiant hand and took a bite, as a normal individual would do with an apple. Blood dropped from his mouth and he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Jack woke up in a cold sweat.

The wichtlan sat up and immediately regretted it, feeling as if his skull was being penetrated by some intangible force. He exhaled heavily, watching his roommate get ready for the day and leave with blurred vision. Jack screwed his eyes shut, stretching his arm out to find the light and turn it off. Jack's eyes still hadn't adjusted to the light outside of the mines very well so he spent a lot of time in the dark.

Jack gathered his blankets up and curled up on his side, smothering his face in a pillow. He knew the feeling that had come over him suddenly far too well. The twisting, churning feeling in his gut was more familiar than Jack had realized yet. The feeling only intensified as he tried to sit up again. In the end, Jack just gave up and let it take over him.

Jack spent the entire time Ronnie was gone writhing around and to an extent, screaming in pain. It felt like someone had taken a large knife, stuck it inside of him, twisted it around a few times, and then shot a few wholes in his stomach. Jack made a noise that sounded like a choked cry when Ronnie entered the room and watched as he opened the closet and emerged with a bottle. The wichtlan forced himself into a sitting position against the wall.

"What the hell," he hissed, gritting his teeth, "do you think you're doing?"

A Pill To Make You Numb || Ronnie Radke & Jack White

It started when the demon woke up. 

The density of the room he shared with his roommate was oddly less thick. He knew Jack occupied the space still, because he heard his faint breathing from across the room. He rose from his mass of sheets with a frown touching his lips. He didn’t know what it was, but something about the air around him made his stomach churn and a spot just above his eye ache with a sharp pain.

After dressing and heading out into the hallways to begin his day, he quickly found that it wasn’t just his bedroom that felt different. The entire school felt different. He stood motionless in a hallway as students casually passed by him, giving him glances, ignoring his presence all together, normal things they did on a daily basis, but something was horribly, horribly wrong and he could feel it. Each person who passed him was like a tsunami like wave of emotion crashing against him. It was too strong to be natural. 

The room was filled to the brim with different emotions emitting from the supernatural beings. It seemed as if every petty emotion was amplified to infinity and beyond and Ronnie wasn’t used to his newly discovered powers. The air twisted and churned around him and the demon found himself completely immobile, not daring to move an inch in case he was struck hard by something new. With one student they were experiencing a lust so strong that they were moments away from ripping off that girl’s clothes. Another student was vibrating with a hatred, another moments from a breakdown. All of it was intense and causing auras to thrash around and fight for the spotlight and Ronnie’s head hurt.

It was all too much and he absolutely had to get out. He was going to skip class, hide in his room, and suffer. Being exposed to that much fluxing energy was too much to handle. Something had thrown off the equilibrium in the school and he couldn’t handle it. The pressure in head increased. It felt as if the demon that churned within him had migrated from his gut to deep within his head, thrashing and shoving and clawing about. After what seemed like a century of agony, he finally stumbled into his room, a grimace twisting his facial features. His body had begun to vibrate, shakes wracking at his limbs. He had to get away from it. Numb it. Make it gone. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t strong enough to handle it.

He stepped to his closet, throwing open the door and dropping to his knees. With shaking hands, he moved a pair of shoes out of the way to reveal a small wooden box. He lifted the lid and removed a bottle with a clear liquid sloshing inside. He hadn’t resorted to this in decades, but this was too much to handle. Falling against the nearby wall of his closet, he slumped over his knees as he pulled them to his chest, his free hand tangling in his hair. Smoothly he popped open the lid of the bottle and put the rim to his lips. Hesitantly, he tilted his head back and took a swig of the liquid. Sharp and like a fire, the clear liquid blazed down his throat, leaving him gasping afterwards. Why did he have to be so resistant to alcohol?

#para

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You know I look like a woman but I cut like a buffalo.

#jams

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Your suggestion is indeed lenient but I am currently incapable of thinking of anything suitable for something this horrid. I haven't been exposed to anything of this sort before so I can't despise anything that causes me weakness or a disadvantage because I have never encountered either of those things. Don't get me wrong, I have faced both disadvantages and weaknesses but never of the magical variety.

Vampire, you say. I've read Dracula. One of the oldest. Fascinating. I am merely in my mid-600's. Even though I was quite young compared to all the other of my kind, they feared me. For many reasons, all of which were valid. Intimidation came with fear so I suppose we're the same in that respect and genocide, but that is a story I am unwilling to share at this point in time.

There's a well-sized community in northwest Germany, but unfortunately, their numbers dropped quite a bit because of a recent unfortunate accident. There's still a relatively decent sized amount left, from what I've been told. However, I do believe I am the only one that has joined modern society, willingly or not.

Strange...

Well, strangling them might be a rather lenient punishment for causing something as revolting as this. I would suggest drawing and quartering them, but then again, perhaps a bit too lenient. I despise anything that could cause me even a minor discomfort or weakness.

I’m a vampire. One of the oldest still alive today, which makes for some rather convenient forms of intimidation when dealing with the children. I’d just destroy most of them in a mass genocide, if the council wasn’t breathing down my neck. 

There aren’t exactly a lot of you left, from what I’ve heard. Then again, word of mouth can be rather misleading.

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The amount of emotion in the air is sickening. Never in my years have I felt this suffocated by other people. I've seen similar occurrences and I find it absolutely revolting. I am feeling urged to strangle whoever caused this.

I'd say that would be the best course of action, yes. The authority at this school mustn't  think so, if it isn't in effect yet. *Jack noticed the other's mannerisms and mocked them, cocking his head to the side as well.*

It does, indeed. I only wish I had the ability to sense what exactly you are but unfortunately, I possess no such thing.  I sense you aren't one of my kind, then.

Strange...

Most of them are rather juvenile. *Smirks.* I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before. 

I’m several millenia old, so you don’t have to worry about such childish actions. A moment ago I saw two complete strangers profess their love to each other and run into the nearest room. 

A spell? Shouldn’t they observe the witches and wizards when they do their work? *Looks at him awkwardly for a moment, head tilting to the side.* So German legends ring true, hm?