Jimmy's Note: Hornz for the good reviews!

AN: Hornz to Vulture, my best brother in metal, for helping me write this new page in Satan's unholy tome of unholiness! By the way, posers, stop filling the reviews pages with your invalid, distasteful gibberish, OK!


The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was raining blood again. I drank some beer from a bottle I had. My bed was deep purple [geddit?] with thick, black sheets decorated with interlinked band logos that resemble spider webs, and again, I'm the only one who can read all 666 of them. I got out of my bed and took off my giant Iron Maiden t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black vest embellished all over it with headless, unclothed women (but remember, I am not a fucking misogynist! Female metalheads are hot! Metal needs more women! Angry red women!) making godless love to dragons shaped like motorcycles, a silver necklace with a Baphomet pendant with the crushed skull fragments of a poser "goff" girl with black, red and purple hair who committed suicide (suicide is for posers, but with Dead of Mayhem as the awesome exception to the rule) by using the Avada Kedavra spell on herself (Chö gave me the necklace as a gift), military green combat boots stained with a goat's fresh menstrual blood, and ripped jeans that I've patched up with more logos of death metal bands. I put on four pairs of skull earrings in my pierced ears and let my greasy, jet black hair stay down.

My friend, Gibbet (AN: Vulture, this is you!) woke up then and grinned at me. He flipped his long, waist-length black hair and opened his envy-green eyes. He put on his Mayhem t-shirt with black pants and spike-soled leather boots, again, for stepping on bloodied, Vans-clad poser, pedicured foot.

"Oh my fucking Satan! Dude, I saw you talking to Chö Chang yesterday!" he said excitedly.

"Yeah? So?" I said, blushing. Even a true fucking metalhead has to blush once in a while, you know?

"Do you like Chö Chang?" he asked as we went out of the Slytherin common room and into the Great Hall.

"No, I so fucking don't!" I shouted (even though I actually like her.)

"Yeah, right!" he exclaimed. Just then, Chö walked up to me.

"Hi." she said.

"Hi." I replied orgasmically.

"Guess what?" she said.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, The Agonist are having a concert in Hogsmeade," she told me.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Satan!" I screamed, and for a moment there, I looked like a metalhead version of a wussy valley girl (I'm NOT a misogynist, but I do have my standards.) who does nothing but care too much about her looks and everything that is superficial, but I LOVE The Agonist! They are my favorite band, besides Mayhem, and of course, the big 4. Every good metalhead knows who the big 4 are!

"Well…. do you want to go with me?" she asked.

I gasped.


Jimmy's Note: Damn, writing this makes me feel like a poser. In reality, Rainblood (the Gary Stu of this fanfic) is even more of a poser than I actually am. The only belief we actually share is the feminism thing, sort of. And yes, Alissa White-Gluz is hot.