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wasted ☆
jj maybank x fem!reader.
warnings: infidelity, swearing, alcohol.
words: 1,093.
summary: “you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?” in which jj makes a grave mistake cheating on you.
request? no.
a/n: i have so many good ideas deep in my drafts. im about to blow up your feed mwahahahha.
my masterlist
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you desperately needed air, the smell of liquor, cigarettes, and blaring music completely overwhelmed your senses, you couldn't find jj which didn't help at all. all you wanted to do was settle into bed, but instead you were trapped at a house party. you were getting tired of the partying, every time the night was close to coming to an end, jj would find something to get worked up about. he would be screaming at you about drama that had sparked. it was exhausting that jj always had a problem, whether it was because you had accepted a drink from a guy, or was dancing to close to someone you didn't even care about. you tried multiple doors, trying to find a quiet place, however all of them were locked.
of course, the one that wasn't locked was occupied. you swing the door open, seeing two bodies entangled together, sweaty and moaning. you were going to shut it when you noticed it was jj in bed. his blonde hair messy as small groans fell from his mouth. "what the actual fuck jj?" you yelled, holding back your tears. as if the night couldn't have gotten any worse, of course jj had found a dumb tourist to feed his needs. before the party, you mentioned to jj that you weren't feeling it, he was upset by this. he made it a big issue before ultimately storming off. you weren't going to go; you told him as much. but seeing how angry he got; you felt obligated to make an appearance.
now regretting even leaving the house, you watch jj scramble to put his clothes back on. the entire show being sickening to see. you decided you didn't even want to hear his excuses. maybe he got too drunk, maybe he wanted revenge, maybe he was just done. you rush downstairs, running into kiara. she apologizes before realizing its you. "hey is everything okay?" you laugh, the whole situation seeming so unreal its funny. "just walked in on jj plowing a tourist. i'm getting out of here." her mouth flies open, "what?" she follows after you, worried to leave you alone. she hops into your car, and the two of you drive to her house, assuming jj would go to yours to try and salvage the relationship.
in kiaras room you lay down on her bed, your body becoming numb. "i mean. i got with jj maybank. did i really think i'd be that special?" you sigh. kiara frowns at your words. "it's not your fault. that is so unfair to you, he knows better than that." you glance down at your phone, seeing a bunch of missed calls and texts from him. "im just mad because i know i'll lose all my friends too." kiara rubs your arm, "you still have me." you smile softly, "thank you, i don't know what i'd be doing without you." your comment was cut off by kiaras phone. "it's jj, should i answer?" you shrug, "might as well. put it on speaker." she pressed accept, immediately putting jj on speaker. "i fucked up kie, i don't know what to do." she wanted to act oblivious to see how jj would explain the situation. "what happened jj?" he mentions you, "we had a big fight before the party. i drowned my frustration with booze. i met a tourist and it was so easy. i let my guard down." kiaras face forms with disgust by his words. she doesn't respond, letting him continue. "she walked in on me fucking someone else. she'll hate me. she'll want nothing to do with me kie, what do i do?" kiara hums, "well you cheated jj." her words stung him, "there is nothing you can do. if she's done with you after this, you'll just have to accept it."
"i have to see her. do you know where she went?" kiara sighs, "no, i haven't seen her. i'm back at mine now, about to go to bed." jj groans, "alright, thanks." he immediately hangs up and kiara scoffs. "please tell me you don't plan on getting back with him." you shake your head. "i can't." she nods understandingly. "besides the fact he literally cheated; all we do is fight anyway. it's too exhausting."
"well i'm here for you, anything you need." you smile, thankful you'd still have a friend after this. "i'm going to head back home, if i run into him i'm going to end it. otherwise i'm going to bed." kiara ushers a goodnight softly, "make it home safe. and keep me updated."
you gently shut her door, heading downstairs. you get into your car, starting it up and driving back home. jj calls you again on your drive home, you reluctantly answer. you stay silent. "can we please talk?" he questions. "im just now on my way home. im too tired jj." he sighs, "im already at your house." you mouth forms into a line, annoyance running through your veins. "alright." you hang up, pulling into your driveway, you noticed him sitting at the end of the driveway. you hop out of your car walking up to him.
he quickly stands up. "look i'm so sorry. i can't even put into words how bad i feel." you scoff, "i don't really care anymore jj." he takes a deep breath, "please it was a huge mistake." you look over, "that's the problem jj. we had a fight, and you lashed out. i don't want to worry about what you'll do if i upset you. if you'll retaliate by sleeping with someone else, or if you'll fight someone, or whatever you'll do just because were on the rocks." he shakes his head, "it won't be like that, i don't want that to be our relationship-" you are quick to cut him off, "there is no more relationship jj." his heart sinks, "no please, we can work this out." you sigh, tears dropping from your eyes. "you were supposed to be my soulmate, but you threw it all away so you could screw some girl?" he was extremely apologetic, "i was drunk, and angry, and i wasn't thinking. i didn't want to hurt you. i regret it so bad. im really sorry." you quickly wipe your tears, "all i see when i look at you is seeing you in bed with that stranger. and that makes me sick. i can't look at you the same jj. we are done." before he can respond you turn away, walking into your house, locking the door behind you.
#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank outer banks#jj maybank fanfic#jj maybank angst#jj maybank x reader angst#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x you
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I love ii but it WILL be the death of me. I keep thinking about how Baseball's storyline is just so damn tragic, and nobody notices. "Always strikes out", And he 𝘩𝘢𝘴 his whole life (his whole time on the show).
Not rejoining, even when he earned it (Paper most likely had the sympathy of fans due to Paper having been there the longest, but Baseball had also been there almost just as long, and- 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. He 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 threaten to kill anyone upon his release! /sarc)
having a constant stream of ridicule from the other contestants regarding his weight lasting S1 AND the start of S2. Why do they even CARE about his weight brah. Ohhh, that's right! Meshart4 fated him to never get what he wants, like people 𝘯𝘰𝘵 seeing him for only his weight. Womp womp, I guess. Wow Mephone, projecting, much? (Also [in my opinion] weight seems VERY irrelevant for objects to care about, due to how most things that could change the appearance of a human [such as; diet, physical strength, hygiene.] Don't really change an object's appearance.) ((Also also being criticized for his armless-.. ness(?) Ouch.))
As much as being a team leader seems like it would be a 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 thing, with the team he had, it was like being a single mom of 10. Having to mediate all of the drama in his team whilst leading it in the first place put so much pressure on him, not to mention having the weight of his friend's problems weighing on him making things harder to deal with. The reason he and Nickel had that lil tussle back in s2e10, was BECAUSE Baseball had so many bad things happening to him. He just wanted that little reassurance that even with all the crap happening, he was an at least half-decent leader, and all he got was his best friend making a joke about it, and downplaying Baseball's very real feelings. He tried to save it, but just that first comment I feel definitely affected Baseball in a negative way.
//(Lil detour time, I wanna talk about how Nickel affected Baseball in GENERAL [for the better AND the worse.], Baseball clearly views Nickel as his best friend, even after everything they've gone through in season 2, but I don't think that's necessarily a good thing. I think it shows that Baseball was too scared to try and make new friends in the game, as to not accidentally make an enemy. I feel this is because Baseball was slowly realizing that most things he tried to do wouldn't go his way, so he'd cling on to Nickel as his only friend, hoping not to lose him, feeling lucky to have him at all (and Nickel would know all about luck/jjjjjjj). This lead to Baseball disregarding some of Nickel's actions towards himself and Suitcase as to preserve his relationship with Nickel. Though, I do feel that the bond they had was real. It started in season 1, where there was less drama built up over time(ex; Tophy and Knife in s2e1 planting the seed for their inevitable rivalry, vs Taco randomly being that bitch and that hoe. /silly), so Baseball most likely wasn't thinking about "preserving his friendship" with Nickel, but rather being friends with him in general. This gave them that time to have genuine interactions that build up the trust between the two. This is why Baseball played along with whatever Nickel did, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. That friendship was real, and Nickel was taking advantage of Baseball without even realizing it. I doubt his did this consciously due to his s3 arc, and how he was programmed that way. Nta. /silly. Nickel getting eliminated was a real roadblock for Baseball because (as aforementioned) Nickel was Baseball's only real friend in the game at this point, and Baseball still had that very real connection with him. This is why I feel he was so awkward in s2e14, as he was trying to have that confidence that Nickel had, and he never did. As much as that's really good for him- like, yay! You go girl!! It's inadvertently horrible for him specifically, because he is hardwired to have all of his efforts for naught. It took Baseball all of s2e15 talking to Suitcase to realize all of Nickel's wrongs, and how ignoring them put him in the wrong too. Once he finally realized that, it seemed like Baseball was really coming into his own! Working out his own issues bit by bit.
WRONG!!🤑👅💜 s2e16. We got only one Baseball and Nickel interaction, but it was enough to change Baseball for the rest of the life he had left. Watching Nickel die/get X'd was like s2e13's elimination put to an extreme. It's clear that - even thought he was working out his issues - Baseball still had that strong attachment to Nickel. People respond to grief in many ways, but when things get too much for one person, they can simply go numb. Baseball was in a very sensitive mental state, and this really hit him where it hurts most. His best friend. He went numb, not telling anyone what he saw. Even in Baseball's last moments, he tried to take that leader-like stance, and help everyone but himself, just as Nickel told him he could.) // lil detour over (I say lil as if this wasn't long as HELL💜)
Though I did connect back to the main claim occasionally, Nickel was a very important part of Baseball's character development that matters to this conversation imo.
Getting out in s2e15 was also (possibly) a place where Baseball's programming played a part (alternatively, he got out because Suitcase had too many negative experiences with Baseball, and thought that her deep emotional views of him would impair her gameplay in the finale.) "Always strikes out", even with the people he thought were friends. Even with the person he thought was his friend. Even with Suitcase. I feel the reason Baseball had the response he did, was him coming to terms with things just not going his way, which sets him up in that sensitive mental state in s2e16. He seemed to have come to terms with Suitcase choosing Knife, and didn't want to procrastinate on the obvious, that he was just never enough. Not enough for Suitcase, not enough for his team, not enough to win the game.
He just wasn't the guy who could do it. And he knew he never would be.
He always strikes out.
#inanimate insanity#mypost#myrant#baseball ii#ii baseball#ii nickel#nickel ii#this is your cue to cry baseball fans#ii suitcase#suitcase ii#:3#ii2 17#ii2 16#ii 17#ii 16#ii2 15#ii 15
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Obsidian Salt III
Summary: Demon!Rhys' plan for the Solstice comes to a head
Content Warnings: Dark!Rhys, Mental Manipulation, DubCon, Slight NSFW; a dash of slut-shaming/body issues; mentions of blood and burns, nothing super graphic.
Part One / Part Two
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There is only one thing I can be absolutely certain of: I have no control of my body. Flames dance from my fingers, the color and shape of them wrong. It’s not the orange and yellow hues it should be, but shades of blue and purple that don’t burn, no matter how much pours from my fingers. My skin doesn’t blister. The heat doesn’t touch me. Stranger still, I can’t feel the pull in my chest that tells me I’m using too much energy, even though I should. The words on my lips are a spell in a language I know I don’t speak, but they flow off my tongue as if it is all I have ever known.
Worse still, I can’t remember what it is exactly that I do and don’t know. There is only this thick darkness in my skull and the flames that glitter around my fingers like tiny Sprites. There is nothing before this, and nothing ahead of this. Only now, watching the pile of tomes and old books burn on the charred forest floor. A blood moon rises swiftly ahead of us.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Witchling?” My companion’s voice is a lover’s purr, rich and silky next to my ear as he watches from over my shoulder. I can’t remember where or when I met him. All I know is that I want more of his approval. I think I might do anything for it as his hands settle on my hips. My head feels strangely empty of everything except him and the strange fog, but I don’t entirely mind the quiet, as long as I get the reward of his lips and body against my own.
“Mhm,” I hum, leaning back against the firm planes of him.
His hands slide under my shirt and skim higher, his claw tipped hands drifting with enough pressure to make me shiver without drawing blood. “We’re almost free of them.”
I take my lower lip between my teeth and bite down against the whimper threatening to slip out of me as his hands come up to cup my breasts. My body is not my own because it’s his. I crave every bit of affection he’ll give me, every touch and kiss and whisper of breath against my flushed skin feels like a gift.
“Why start by burning books?” I ask, trying not to sound so needy by moaning like I want to when he gives my nipple a harsh tug. My body betrays me in the end, chest arching into his touch, practically begging for more.
“No spells to counter us,” he replies. I know he can feel my desperation, know he’s egging it on by rocking the hard length of his erection into the supple flesh of my ass, but his hands slide back down my body, robbing me of the pleasure I so furiously crave.
His hands stop at my hips, claws dipping into my skin as he holds me in place. “Not yet, Little Witch. You’ll have your fun once we’re done here.”
I tilt my head back against his shoulder, pouting, hoping he might change his mind as I rock my ass back into him.
One of his hands leaves my hip to grab me firmly by the throat. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll take what I give you, when I decide to give it to you.”
My body freezes, held by some invisible grip even as he releases me. The loss of contact makes panic swell in my chest. “I’m sorry! I’ll focus.”
The hard lines of his face, distorted in the firelight, soften just a bit. “Good girl.”
The panic settles in my chest as the invisible grip on my body falls away. That’s better, even if he doesn’t put his hands on me again as he motions me away from the dying embers of our book pyre. At least I have him close.
Rhys walks with his hands in his pockets now, wings tucked tight behind him. His gate is unhurried, as we stride through the quiet woods, the blood moon lighting the way. I think its arrival might be important, but I have no memories of why.
“The witches will be gathering soon,” he says. “They’re expecting you.”
Violet eyes glance over my attire and he adds, “You’ll need to change.”
I don’t question him as he steps onto a well worn trail and follows it all the way to a house. My house. The memory of it comes back into focus as if it had been lifted out of a fog, though it looks strange to me now. The runes along the foundation look like they were made by children, the wards they cast are flimsy at best. Strange, I’d always thought they were the best in the neighborhood.
“You see them as I see them,” he explains as he lifts a clawed hand and tears right through the glittering ward. “Key is in your pocket.”
Right. I slide my hand into the pocket of my jeans and find the key along with a couple crushed pieces of dried rosemary. What the hell was I doing with it?
I slide the key into the lock and step into the dark house. It’s utterly silent, all the lights off. When I reach for the light switch, Rhys bats my hand away. “The neighbors don’t need to know we’re here.”
I somehow know my way around in the dark, even as the memory slowly returns, slipping out from the fog like a frightened prey animal. My room is the smallest, crammed into the attic, my footsteps echo on the stairs as we walk, but Rhys makes no sound. If anyone was in the house they would have assumed I was alone. Every once in a while I have to glance back over my shoulder to make sure he’s still there.
He only lets me turn the lights on in my cramped bedroom once he’s sure there are no windows to give us away. The sight of him having to duck to not slam his head against the slanted roof is amusing enough to make the risk worth it. He settles himself on my bed after a moment of knocking things around with his wings, long legs folded beneath him on my worn quilt, a frown crossing his handsome features.
“I’ve seen prison cells with more space,” he huffs.
I go to the wardrobe jammed in the corner, the old oak doors hanging on by a single, rusted hinge that squeaks when it opens. I wince as I start pushing old sweaters and jackets around, unsure of what I’m looking for. “What’s the dress code for this?”
The apex talon on his left wing scrapes against the wall, slashing through the worn wallpaper, and he huffs as he wraps the leathery membrane around himself like a cocoon. “Fucking witches. All so godsdamn small!”
Once he’s sure he’s not going to wreck anymore of the decor, he turns his attention back to me and I feel heat rush through me once more as those violet eyes roam over my body. “You’ll look good in black.”
A blush works its way up my cheeks as I start pushing pastel sweaters and multicolored t-shirts out of my way, looking for anything black. There’s a small, lacey thing tucked in the back and I have a distinct memory of someone telling me not to wear that to some function or another but the details or fuzzy. All I know is that someone, somewhere, made me feel small the last time I’d worn it. And I will never let anyone make me feel like that again.
I pull it out of the wardrobe and hold it out for Rhys to see. Something about him heightens all my worst emotions. My anger feels tenfold. My insecurities have tripled. I need him to quiet one and use the other, that much I do know.
His fangs glint in the witchlights the bob from the ceiling as he takes it in. “Certainly not the attire of a virgin sacrifice.”
A shadow from within the fog lets me see my grandmother’s threat from yesterday and I ball the dress in my hands up in my fists. “I’m no one’s sacrifice!” There’s something… different in my voice, and whatever it is makes the witchlights shutter.
Rhys only grins triumphantly at the sight. “That’s my girl.”
I take a shuddering breath to calm the pulsing of something I feel in my veins, something I can’t identify, something I don’t remember possessing before. Something that belongs to Rhys just as much as I do. It starts with a buzzing feeling in my spine, where his sigil sits.
“I’m going to go change.” A tendril of shadow snakes out from underneath his wings and snags me by the wrist, pulling me towards where he sits on the bed before I can even take a step towards the door.
“Why so shy?” He teases, wings unfolding enough for him to reach out a clawed hand and brush it against the buttons on my jeans. “What are you afraid I’ll see?”
I shiver at the contact, my legs moving on their own accord until my knees bump against the bed frame. He has such complete control over me, I don’t know if he even knows it. “I’m not afraid of anything!” I try to protest but my voice shakes when I speak.
He grins as his claws retract to let him pop the buttons open, large hands slowly pushing the loose fabric down my hips. It is an effort to stand still, to not climb into his lap and straddle him right here in my ratty bedroom.
Once the fabric is past my thighs my jeans fall to the floor in a pool around my ankles on their own accord, his callused hands now stroking up my exposed flesh to reach for the hem of my sweater. I am no blushing virgin, but I have never been this aroused by a simple action before either. I find myself biting my lip as I watch the way his hands move over my body. I’m scared if I move too fast or make too much noise he’ll stop, just like he did earlier, leaving me empty and cold in the loss of his touch.
He leans forward on his knees, wings parting just enough to let him lean forward without batting into the walls, to brush his lips over my stomach as he removes the sweater inch by inch. Every second passes by like an hour, his kisses slow and unhurried as if we have all the time in the world.
I squeeze my eyes shut as his lips ghost over my ribs, nose brushing up against the band of my bra. His lips are so plush and warm, I can’t help but wonder what they would feel like wrapped around my nipple. The thought makes heat pool between my legs and I instinctively clench my thighs together, looking for some form of friction to take the edge off.
He nips teasingly at the valley between my breasts, but leaves my bra in place as he finally pushes the sweater over my head and onto the floor. “Aren’t you pretty,” he purrs.
I can’t stop myself from leaning forward, one hand braced on his muscular shoulder to keep myself from falling directly into his lap. I need to kiss him. I need to have his lips back on mine.
He chuckles wickedly as he stops me with a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough to halt my movements. “What did we talk about earlier, hm?”
“Please, Rhys,” I whimper.
“After we’re done,” he promises, unbothered by the effect he has on me, knowing I’m so totally at his mercy and desperate for any attention. I think he likes keeping me here. Likes knowing he can dangle pleasure within reach and then rip it away from me before I can truly have a taste. It might be the most effective way to keep me from looking into what we’re doing and I am a fool who keeps falling for it, but anytime I start to question why I allow it, the fog returns in my head and all the questions disappear in a rush. Just as they do now.
My eyes feel heavy and my head empty as I nod, the movements of my body foreign, like a puppet being jerked around on a string.
He pulls the dress over my head with the same slow, teasing pace as he’d taken off my clothes, and it only makes the heat beneath my skin all the worse. The dress halts on my upper thighs, just long enough to cover all the important bits, and his hands linger on the hem, fingers tracing strange shapes on the inside of my thighs.
I might be desperate enough to try begging one more time, were it not for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Rhys dissolves into shadow and smoke and dives underneath the bed as the door opens and my Mother strides in, broom still in hand from the flight over.
“What are you wearing?” She says in greeting.
That pulse of anger that had made the lights flicker returns and she glances at it with one, manicured brow raised in surprise.
“I thought it looked nice-”
“You look like a whore,” she returns, hands smoothing over the green cloak dusting her shoulders. If she cares about the new display of power, she doesn’t mention it. Probably thinks it's a fluke. Or perhaps an errant flair of her own magic, she certainly has enough to spare. “Change before you head out. I’m sure your performance tonight will be embarrassing enough as it is without you being seen by everyone in that awful outfit.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“You told me you were going on a diet,” she continues to chastise. “That dress certainly proves that a lie.”
I run a hand over my stomach self-consciously, but I can’t think through the fog to find an argument.
“Honestly, Y/N, is all this a joke to you?”
“No!” I protest but she cuts me off.
“You certainly could have fooled me! Our family name is on the line here, you understand the reputation you have to uphold, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mother,” I try again, but she continues on like I hadn’t.
“Our family holds the front line against both the human world and the demon one. Do you know how much work that takes, to keep the demons leashed to their dimension and keep those stupid humans in the dark? Do you have any idea the sacrifices we’ve all had to make? The work we’ve all put in?”
“Yes-”
“Do you know how many Sisters I have lost? How many I had to decide to sacrifice to preserve our coven’s strength?”
“I understand-”
“To show weakness is to invite our destruction. This peace you have gotten to grow up in has come at a terrible price. It is not a game.”
“I know-”
“No, you don’t!” She hisses. “Because if you did, then you would have taken your lessons seriously. You would have studied harder. You wouldn’t be an example of weakness today.”
My hands are clenched so hard at my sides my fingernails have left indents in my palms. “I will not disappoint you tonight, Mother.”
“You only have one shot to prove yourself, because if the Salem girl beats you, you’re the sacrifice, you understand that don’t you?”
Rhys’s sigil on my back burns. “I know. She won’t beat me. I’ve been practicing.”
She frowns as she shifts her broom to her other hand. “I wish I believed you.”
She might as well have hit me.
“I have to hunt tonight, there are too many humans on the border.”
And as powerful and proud as my Mother is, she can’t stand there and watch me make a fool of myself. As always, the Coven provides a perfect excuse for her to not be around while I “disgrace the family name” and “make her wish I was never born”. The instances in which she said those very words flood my mind at a feverish pace, spinning round and round like a whirlwind movie performance. The burning at my back spreads all the way to my fingertips and I swear I feel the flicker of a flame between my clenched fists again.
“Do you really think so little of me?” I ask, my voice a lot smaller than I mean it to be.
“I stopped expecting big things from you a long time ago,” she retorts, straightening her cloak again. If she feels any remorse for the words or concern for my wellbeing, she doesn’t show it. I am as expendable as any other witch in the Coven, maybe more since she thinks so little of me. “Just try not to die tonight, ok?”
“I won’t be dying tonight,” I say through my teeth.
She nods, turns towards the stairs, then glances back one last time over her shoulder. “Change before you go.” Those are her parting words for my impending doom?
The door shuts behind her and I lash out and slam my fist into the wall in frustration; the first movement of my body all day that has felt distinctly mine and not so terrible intertwined with Rhys.. The wood groans under my burning knuckles, but worse still, the fading wall paper smolders, the edges burning and crinkling, the smell of melting glue filling the air. I glance down at my hands long enough to see a flicker of those blue flame disappear between my knuckles through the tears brimming my eyes.
Rhys materializes from under the bed, looking annoyed that he can’t stretch out his wings. “That was harsh, even for a Witch.”
I stretch out my hands, palms splayed, no more flames to be seen, even if the wallpaper still smolders. “Is this from you?”
“It’s the amplification of what’s already inside you,” he says.
My Mother’s words still ring in my ears. “There’s nothing inside me.”
He reaches out a hand and tilts my head up to look at him. “We both know that’s not true, Darling.”
I wish I could remember how he came to me; remember which god I needed to thank for bringing him to me. No one understands me like he does. He makes me feel seen, like I’m not entirely a burden. The fleeting moment of control I had over my body disappears, dispelled by this new touch of his hands against my face.
He wipes the tears that slip down my cheeks with his thumbs. “Ready to show them exactly what you are, Little Witch?”
I’m not going to change the dress. And I’m not going to die today either. “Yes.”
He grins wickedly, eyes going all black again. “Then let’s give them a Solstice no one will ever forget.”
Those words are the last thing I remember before the fog takes me completely. There is only darkness and shadow, floating and swirling so intensely around me that I lose sight of everything. I am not a person, I am a thought, tossed around in the dark. Dully, I am aware of sounds. Of a flash of heat on my skin. Of the distant sound of screaming. Terror becomes a companion, but it is never an emotion that comes from me, only something that walks alongside me in the dark. Through it all, there is never a moment that I am not aware of him. His being is as intertwined in the darkness as I am, I think he might very well have been its creator as well as its caretaker. Even here, the brush of him is enough to keep me from thinking too hard about it. The darkness is good and soothing and nothing to fear, no matter what sounds come from outside it.
When he finally sets me free from the darkness, it is in a world once again on fire. What looks like a celebratory parade now lays in cinders, the charred remains of a skeletal figure clutching the melted wheel on the front. The air is heavy with ash, the wind blowing embers across the blood red sky.
There is more screaming. Underneath what once might have been a floral arch, twisted in the burning ribbons are people… no witches, fighting for an escape that doesn’t come as the winged death god that has followed me all day stalks towards them with his claws out, chuckling at their plight.
Something in me recoils, fights against the invisible hands that hold me, just enough to let out a scream of horror as the witches meet a bloody end, the gore splattering across Rhys’s wings. He turns to look at me then, grinning wickedly, no violet in his eyes to be seen, only endless black pits.
The shadow in my skull parts just enough to remind me what he really is: Demon. Prince of Hel.
My hands shake at my sides. My back aches and burns like someone had tried to set me on fire, but I am wholly unscathed compared to the carnage and destruction around me.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
But the fog in my head closes in tighter, sharper now, like talons digging into my skull. I scream as I fall to my knees, but the hands that hold me won’t let me reach for my head. Blue flames still dance from my fingertips, flames I don’t remember unleashing.
“What?” Each word is a battle to get out. “What did I do?”
The blood on his hands is cold as ice as he brushes a hand over my cheek. “What you were meant to do, Little Witch. What they were always scared you could do. Don’t you see? You’re free!”
Free? Whatever the Solstice celebration was supposed to be is irrelevant now, there is only death and fire and it’s all at my hand. The moment guilt starts to creep in, the fog rips it away from me, replaces it with that same need to please him.
“You freed me?”
Invisible hands help me stand again. He braces a hand on my hip to steady me as he brushes his lips over my forehead. The fires seem irrelevant like this. “They’ll never hurt you again. They’ll never hurt us again.”
I can’t remember what he was saving me from. Before I can ask the question, a false sense of gratitude worms its way into my chest. Another gift from him. The more gifts he gives me, the more hollow and cold I feel my insides becoming. My head doesn’t know reality from the world he creates inside my mind, but my heart is another matter. There is something very, very wrong with him. With me. But I am not strong enough to fight it. The sigil at my back burns when I try.
“What now?”
Plush lips brush against mine. My body moves for me, chasing the heat of him. Chasing the blissful pleasure of emptiness that comes when he touches me. His wants are mirrored through me somehow.
“What would you like now, My Little Witch? The rest of the Coven? A throne perhaps? There is nothing in your way. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”
I don’t know that I want anything. Nothing feels real. Nothing but him.
“Want you,” I say, voice a little breathless, as if conjuring up anything of myself from within the fog is a tremendous effort. It certainly feels like it. I don’t know if that’s another gift from him or not. Everything is becoming so very muddled again.
The demon grins as he asks, “And then?”
Images swirl around my head. Each carefully planted by those invisible hands. I am powerless to resist their influence. “No more witches.”
“I couldn’t think of anything better, Darling.”
-----
Tag List:
@girl-math-aint-mathing / @hjgdhghoe / @gloomy-hag / @barb00235 / @scxrletwitches
Thank you for all your patience! <3
#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#dark!rhys#dark!Rhys x reader#demon!rhys#demon!Rhys x reader#rhys smut#rhysand x reader smut#witchy fic#demon fic#acotar#acotar AU#acotar rhys#spooky szn fic#kinktober#my writings#my fanfic
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So throwback to ♠️riddle days
“the turn of the decade befalls the facade”
Taylor’s speech during Nola n3 before the surprise song on piano reminded me of this riddle from way back when.
She said 1989 is a decade old and she appreciates the fans so much for what they turned that album into. The way she said it seemed like she had planned her word choice and was waiting to make sure the words were heard. So her word choice reminded me of this old ♠️ riddle.
She played How You Get The Girl x Clean and changed the lyric “Just because you’re clean don’t mean you don’t miss him.”
After getting clean with the rain pouring down, you stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain in her doorway and tell her I want you for worse or for better that’s how you get the girl back
@spade-riddles
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happy halloween, loverboy - okkotsu yuuta
word count: 7.3k warnings: heavy making out, alcohol (everyone's of age) summary: you leave your halloween costume a surprise to yuuta. and he's very surprised. other notes: unestablished relationship, lots of flirting/teasing, down bad yuuta
happy halloween everyone! 🎃
⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆。⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆
“I don’t care what time you show up. All that really matters is you show up in costume- you guys do have costumes… right?” Nobara’s eyes shift away from where she was dutifully filing her nails to send a sharp look across her friends.
Halloween was a very important holiday. But it would lose all of it’s whimsy if even one of them showed up without a costume. She couldn’t bear to be seen with a loser that thought they were better than dressing up for the hell of it.
“Of course!” You’re the first to speak, over enthusiastic with a grin that displays just how excited you really are.
It had been quite some time since you’d celebrated the holiday- you think maybe you dressed up once or twice as a child, but soon after being whisked away by Jujutsu Higher Ups you’d forgotten the fun of the festivities. So when Nobara found a bar that was encouraging it’s patrons to dress up for the 31st, the plan was set and you were agreeing in a heartbeat.
You’d chosen your costume fast, rushing to the store with Maki and Nobara to find something fun- it was your only requirement, you had to be excited by whatever you chose. And when your eyes landed on what you deemed to be the cutest package, you skipped right over to your friends with it, grinning like a fool as you held it on display for them. The girls gave you their approval instantly, barely looking at the details of your costume before matching your grin and nodding their heads. You’d assumed they were just as eager as you were for the whole ordeal.
“You got a costume already?” Yuuta spoke up from where he sat next to you. There was an air of indifference about him, the way he was tilted back in his chair with his arms crossed over the white jacket he always wore. But something in the way he asked, and the way he turned to you with a slight pout told a different story.
“I might’ve gone at the beginning of the month…” You admitted, a guilty smile on your face when his frown deepened. Had he wanted to go costume shopping together? You weren’t sure why exactly he was pouting. You and Yuuta were close- really close- but he hadn’t voiced an interest in shopping for the occasion until now.
“I already went too, I’m going to be a pirate!” Yuji announced from the other end of the table, sparking a few others to pitch in what they were planning on dressing up as. But none of them stole Yuuta’s attention, he remained focused on you.
“What are you going to be?” He asked, leaning into the table with his elbow now so that he could prop his head on his hand.
“Not telling,” Your guilty smile turned cheshire as he raised an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise!” You added, just so he knew he wouldn't be able to coax the information out of you. Although if he really tried, you’d probably give in. Yuuta huffs, accepting defeat.
“Fine. I s’pose I’ll surprise you, too” He decides he’ll have to do some last minute shopping on his own. He could only hope there was still a good selection, and he wouldn’t wind up with something embarrassing.
“Really?” You lean forward as you beam, delighted by the idea. Yuuta nods his head in agreement, and it’s decided. You’ll both show up at the bar in undisclosed costumes to surprise each other with. It’s a simple thing, but you can’t deny your curiosity for what sort of thing Yuuta would pick.
And Yuuta’s nerves start to eat him alive as his mind wanders to all the things you could’ve possibly chosen… it only gets worse when Maki catches his eye with a tell-tale smirk. That truly peaked his interest.
⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆。⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆
The bar is full of zombies, fairies, devils, and miscellaneous characters each trying to get a buzz and have a good time. It’s entertaining enough just to look around at the creative costumes every person who entered wore.
Yuuta had arrived fairly early in the night, he and Inumaki agreeing to meet up around nine to find a decent enough table for all of their friends. And, of course, they got a head start on drinking.
Inumaki was a very convincing vampire, complete with fangs and a little bit of fake blood- even going so far as to cut his bangs into a neat v shape. He’d certainly committed to the bit. Yuuta couldn’t help but wonder if he’d come to regret the impulsive haircut come tomorrow, but he’d wait to put money on it until the rest of his friends were here. Or at least, until you were here.
He couldn’t deny he was antsy to see you. It was no secret that he spent most of his time waiting for you to walk into the room- or seeking you out if he had to- but tonight there was an electricity in the air as he awaited your arrival. Yuuta had been racking his mind for days, wondering what sort of costume you’d show up in. That character you’re always gushing about? Or one of those simple animal costumes? Something with fishnets? His leg was bouncing underneath the stool he was seated at.
No one had given him any hints- least of all you- but Maki and Nobara couldn’t contain their giggles and secret looks anytime the subject of your costume came up. It only dialed up his curiosity- and he couldn’t be sure if that was a good or bad thing.
Yuuta’s own costume he felt was a bit lackluster, but he’d put as much effort into it as he could have. A white doctor’s coat- you had said white suited him- with blood splattered over it meticulously by his own hand, with blue scrubs underneath with the same red dye all over it. To him it was obvious that the halloween store was too picked over for him to get his first or second costume pick, but this would have to do. It was sort of cool, he supposed, but he didn’t care much. He only hoped you would feel differently when you saw him, that you wouldn’t be disappointed after he’d said he’d surprise you.
Their other friends began to filter in one by one, each with a costume that seemed fitting enough to them. Nobara and Maki were first, clearly having pregamed during their getting ready process. Nobara was in a striking red dress with a long wig of red hair, and Maki at her side in a form fitting red jumpsuit with a little cottontail pinned to the back and bunny ears on a headband in her hair. Jessica and Roger Rabbit, that was unexpected, but no one could be shocked. Nobara was clearly very proud of her wig styling abilities, as she tossed it over her shoulder constantly as they sat and ordered drinks.
Next came Megumi, who got a frown from Nobara when he approached the group in a blue cargo jumpsuit.
“What are you supposed to be?” She asked, her finger tapping the rim of her margarita with an irritated tap tap tap of her nail. “A mechanic?” Her disgust is evident in the snarl on her glossy red lips.
Megumi fishes into the pocket to pull out a crumpled rubber mask- clearly Mike Meyers- but once his costume is revealed he stuffs the mask back into his pocket. Nobara opens her mouth to protest that by not wearing the mask, he’s barely in a costume, but Maki is quick to whisk her away for another drink from the bar.
Yuji is never far behind Megumi, and he shows up with you in tow. Megumi raises his hand to the pink haired boy at the door, letting him know where their table was, and everyone turns to catch a glimpse of his costume.
He looks great, in raggedy black pants and a half buttoned striped shirt. He even got an eye patch and a bog captain’s hat. He’d wanted to get the peg leg and the bird to pin to his shoulder- but Megumi had talked him out of spending a stupid amount of money for one night of dress up.
Yuuta can’t say he really noticed Yuji’s perfectly put together pirate costume, because right behind Yuji came you.
He choked on his drink, coughing loudly and spitting some of it back into the glass. Inumaki tries to pat his back to get the last of the burning rum out of his throat, but it’s no use. With Yuuta’s eyes still trained on the girl beside the pirate, he continues to cough up a lung.
It dawns on him now that he’s rarely seen you outside of your uniform. Even then, you were a jeans and hoodie kind of girl. So watching you stride through the bar dressed to the nines as a french maid had him in a chokehold. He couldn’t help but stare, not blinking once as his eyes tracked every movement you made. The frill of your shirt skirt bounced softly against your upper thighs, and in perfect time with the gentle bounce of your tits in the perfectly tight top of the dress.
Yuuta had to cover his mouth with his hand- the coughs had subsided but the gape in his jaw couldn’t be helped and he needed to hide it somehow before you noticed him and caught the shameless way he watched you.
The table is silent, all eyes on you- except Megumi who’s made room for Yuji to sit next to him where he instantly complains that a parrot would’ve suited his costume better- and when you aren’t the one being stared at, Yuuta is. Toge’s already giggling to himself, knowing this night was about to get way more exciting.
“Happy halloween!” Your smile is too sweet, too angelic for the costume you’re wearing. Yuuta’s still covering half his face, the slow drag of his eyes over your long, fishnet covered legs not going unnoticed. With all the ruckus of the partygoers, your table seems particularly silent. “What’s wrong?” You pout, worriedly glancing over your friends for an explanation as to why they seem so bored compared to everyone else.
Your eyes land on Yuuta, who’s straining to maintain eye contact with you, but with his large hand covering his mouth, he’s unable to answer your question. Fuck, when is his voice going to come back?
Maki and Nobara get back at the table then, and they bring the energy back with them.
Nobara’s drunk squealing when she sees you, fleeing Maki’s side to oggle you up close, her hands wandering over your figure but never quite touching. Some words are making it out of her mouth, you think you hear ‘damn’ and ‘sexy’ a few times, but for the most part she’s just bouncing and making high pitched noises of approval.
“Holy shit, (y/n/n),” Maki is standing still, eyeing you just as slowly as Yuuta had. “I knew it was sexy but I didn’t know it was that sexy” She mutters in surprise.
You glance down at yourself, your hands smoothing over the little white apron on the front of your skirt as you start to second guess the costume.
“Is it too much?” You ask, but just as a frown is starting to form, you’re being directed away from the table.
“Let’s go get a drink”
Yuuta is on his feet, at your side, and practically pulling you towards the bar with an arm around your waist in an instant. You think you even feel a tingle of his cursed energy, but just as soon as you feel it, it’s gone.
“Yeah, alright,” You smile at him, finally taking a moment to notice his costume. Wow, he looks good in white even when it’s covered in blood. “I like your costume,” You tell him, looking him up and down one more time once you’ve reached the bar. “You’re like a… evil hot doctor”
The laugh that Yuuta lets out is strained, as he has to push past the lump in his throat first, but it seems to make your smile last a minute longer as he nods back at you, finally removing his arm from around your waist.
“I wasn’t really going for evil, or hot,” He admits, and you shrug a shoulder too casually in disagreement. “This is sort of all they had left”
“Well, it works,” You say, again, too casual in the way your eyes move up and down over his figure. Shouldn’t he be the one looking at you like that? “Have I ever told you that you look good in white?” You ask him in a tone that seems serious, like you really want him to know this. Yuuta chuckles, and he has to pretend to be interested in the handles of liquor on the wall behind the bar when he responds.
“You might’ve mentioned it,” He mumbles, before turning his gaze back to you. It’s hard to look away from you too long. His eyes land on the frilly white piece of laze you’ve attached to the top of your hair, a cute little maid’s headpiece, and something he can focus on without feeling like a dog. “Looks good on you too” He compliments, reaching out to brush his fingers over the lace. He’s just as quick to retract them though, his mind wandering too far as he connects the dots between you and lace.
Your giggle brings his attention back to you, and he’s surprised to see a blush blooming across your cheeks.
“Thank you, Yuuta,” You hum sweetly. Too sweet. You can’t look at him like that, don’t you know he’s going to drop dead any second? He rubs his nose, discreetly trying to check for any blood. “So you like my costume then?”
His hand is covering his mouth again as he gives you a once over, as if he hadn’t gotten the full image when you’d arrived. Of course he had, the little black dress with white accents and a frilly skirt that sat perfectly around the curve of your ass, the fishnets that wrapped up your legs so perfectly, the pair of black heels that still didn’t have you reaching his height but god you even made shoes sexy.
And then you had the audacity to give him a little twirl, to showcase your costume, just for him- although Yuuta’s not naive enough to believe he’s the only one with eyes on you right now, he knows you’re doing it just for him. His heart hammers in his chest.
There’s a pretty white bow tied around your waist, laying neatly at the dip in your back where your skirt fans out. The urge to reach out to it, to tug on the end of the ribbon and bring you closer, has him latching his hands around the edge of the bartop. It was a strange feeling, not being able to trust your own hands, but Yuuta refused to perv on you.
(Any more than he already allowed himself to anyway).
A dry spell spreads from his lips, through his mouth and down his throat- there’s not a single appropriate thing he can say to you right now. So a nod of his head and a wobbly smile will have to do. You seem amused by this, smiling up at him in a way that makes your pretty eyes crinkle. Even your makeup has a grip on him- flawless, every part of you.
“A good surprise then?”
“Great surprise” His voice betrays him, coming out in a low rasp you’re just barely able to hear over the music and chatter at the bar, but again, you only brighten up at him.
“Well, I’m glad you think so”
Was he still in fantasy land or was that… cheeky?
The bartender, a perfect depiction of Beetlejuice, finally gets to the pair of you, and you’re quick to order two shots and two rum and cokes. Yuuta can’t argue, but he’ll always be amused by your ability to throw back alcohol only to order the easiest thing on the menu.
“Should we bring a round of shots back to the table?” Yuuta asks, thanking the bartender once the drinks are poured before they’re off to take the next order. You hum in thought as you pick up the tiny glass and turn towards him.
“Maybe later,” You shrug. “I just want to hang out with you for a bit”
The dryness in his throat is back. This shot is going to burn.
“Just me?” He asks, wondering if you’d pregamed as hard as Nobara and forgot who you were with. You nod. “You sure?”
You nod again, this time followed by a string of laughter.
“Yes, Yuuta, I’m sure,” You tease, before lifting your shot towards him, beckoning him to take his. “Now are we toasting to halloween or what?”
Yuuta hopes you don’t notice the shake in his hands as he grabs his glass. Suddenly, he’s fifteen again, and seeing you enter Gojo’s classroom for the first time with your cute braided pigtails and a pretty smile. The air is sucked out of his lungs, and his eyes are trained to follow you, and only you.
“Happy halloween” He touches the rim of the small glass to yours, making a small spill as some liquor drips over the edge of the glass. The grin that stretches across your lips is beautiful and unhinged, and he knows this won’t be the only shot you take tonight.
“Happy halloween” You repeat in your sugary voice.
And just like that you both tilt your heads back and let the liquor burn down your throats. Yuuta still feels like a teenager, fighting the urge to couch as he gulps it down his dry throat. He slams the shooter back on the bar top and is quick to reach for his drink, taking large swigs.
Chasing rum with more rum wasn’t his greatest idea, but he wouldn’t come to realize that until a little later.
“So,” When his voice sounds normal again, he turns back towards you. You look back at him with your full attention. “Did you pick this yourself?” He asks, gesturing vaguely to your outfit.
“I did,” You answer, a slow smile stretching across your lips. “Thought it was pretty” You add, giving yourself a once over.
You couldn’t deny the confidence boost this particular costume gave you. It sure beat out the sheet you cut holes into when you were a kid and thought you were the perfect spooky ghost.
“Mhm, mhm” Yuuta hums a few times as he nods his head, and you hardly notice your toes twisting your foot back and forth at the ground, your heel lifted just enough to swing back and forth in a slow motion.
“You think so too?” You ask.
“Huh- what?”
“You also think it’s pretty?” You clarify, trying not to appear too amused by the nervous look on his face, or the flush creeping up his neck that was starting to reach his cheeks. You weren’t totally blind, it was clear that Yuuta was having some sort of reaction to your costume, but you’d like to have some fun with him before making him outright admit it.
“Yes,” His answer tumbles out of his mouth too quickly, his eyes widening just a bit before he tries to give you a more normal answer. “Yeah, I mean- yeah, it’s pretty, you’re pretty, you look pretty in it”
He flatters you too much, especially with his habit of nervous stammering, it has you giggling and beaming like he’s paid you the most romantic compliment. You know he has, he just lets his nerves get on top of him and then his vocabulary is depleted.
“Why thank you, loverboy,” You swirl your straw in your glass a few times before you bring it to your lips to take a sip.
Your teasing is going to be the death of him, it truly is a cruel torture. Not to mention loverboy spoken by your voice, curled in one ear, muddled up his brain, and flew out the other. You’d never called him that before- you never called him anything before! Maybe a slurred ‘Yuu’ in passing after a rough mission, late at night and when you were more asleep than you were awake. But before that, there was only ever Okkotsu, and Yuuta.
Never loverboy.
His face was effectively pink now. He took a few more gulps of his drink.
“I was hoping you’d think so” You finish your thought after a few more sips. Not an ounce of your amusement in Yuuta’s pink cheeks is contained.
“You were?” He asks, far too quickly.
“Mhm” You smile and nod, seemingly distracted when you catch sight of Panda entering the bar. He seems proud of his clown costume- a rainbow afro, polka dot tie, and ridiculously large shoes- you have to agree, it’s impressive. Although the other patrons of the bar were more impressed by his ‘panda suit’ than the silly clown accessories.
Yuuta barely glanced at his bear friend squeezing through the crowd of drunks before he was looking right back at you again.
Was this all purposeful? A carefully calculated plan of torment?
You turn back to him with a pretty smile, your lipstick still perfectly intact even after all this drinking. Before he could stop it, all he could think about was ruining it for himself.
Were you evil?
His adam's apple noticeably bobs as he takes a dry swallow. Your smile only brightens.
“And uh- why’s that?” It’s hard to control his stutter, so his words come out a bit choppy and awkward. With a large sip of his drink, he hopes you’ll brush it off as an after effect of the alcohol and nothing more.
“I dunno,” You shrug a shoulder and Yuuta wonders if you’re feigning indifference or if this is all part of the torture. “Guess I care more about your opinion than the others”
His glass is almost empty. If he didn’t order another one soon he’d have nothing to keep his attention- respectfully- on.
But your confession is delayed to his ears, and it’s obvious in the way that his eyes soften on you a few moments later, his empty glass forgotten on the counter.
“Y-you do?” The stutter is back, but it’s hard to cringe when she looks at him so sweetly, as if just standing there with him was all the more company you wanted for the night. Was it?
You place your empty glass beside his, catching eyes with the bartender long enough to swirl your finger over them both, sending the message that a second round would be required soon. When you look back at Yuuta, you find that he’s managed to keep his eyes at your level this whole time. You have to laugh, even if it makes his neck flush pink.
“I do,” You answer his question a bit too late, as if you’ve almost forgotten to respond at all. To be fair, his gaze is piercing and it’s hard to think about anything else at all. Carefully, you take a step closer to him, which is already a few steps closer than you’ve ever been to him before. Like this, anyways, purposefully, when there’s plenty of space for you to situate yourself at the bar, you’re choosing to invade his own space. When his eyes remain locked on yours, you tilt your head a bit, curiously. Your voice drops to a whisper, but you’re close enough now that he can hear you just fine even in the loud environment, “Even when you’re feeding me a bunch of respectful bullshit,” You add.
Yuuta allows his eyes to lower just a little bit, just enough to watch the movement of your lips as you speak. He doesn’t dare let them stray any further, too afraid that if he caught sight of how close you were standing now that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from pulling you in the rest of the way until your frilly little thing you called a costume was ruffled and ruined up against how own-
His throat bobs again, and he’s trying desperately to think of something to say, but all words are getting blocked up and make less and less sense the more he tries to say something.
Your eyes sweep his features, lashes fluttering softly as you take in the color in his cheeks, the part of his lips, the hooded gaze he greets you with that makes your insides shiver and melt all at once. You’re not sure he has any idea, you’re not sure there’s much thought behind those eyes at all.
Something tells you Yuuta’s put all of his energy towards keeping eye contact with you.
“Yuuta,”
You call his name softly when it’s been a few beats too long of basking in the tension. While you love the tension, you’re going to need him to say something, do something, before you combust. Glazed over blue eyes flicker back to life when he drags them away from your red painted lips and back to your own gaze. He’s blushing, probably since he’d been caught staring for so long, but there’s no sign of embarrassment when his eyes refocus on yours.
Beetlejuice replaces your empty glasses for refreshed ones, knocking twice on the counter to get your attention before walking away. They clearly weren’t sure either one of you would notice the fresh drinks waiting for you since you were so busy eating each other up with your eyes, but they don’t linger too long, off to take another order at the other end of the bar just as quickly as they had gotten yours.
“I feel like you’re holding something back,” You say, reaching for your drink while only tearing your attention away from him for a split second. That split second was long enough for you to miss him, although he’s standing so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. Straw between your lips, being held in place by your teeth crushing it hard to maintain your air of indifference, you bat your eyelashes at him tauntingly. “And I’d really like to know what it is”
“No, you don’t” He finally speaks, the words coming to him in perfect time. It catches your interest, your eyes lighting up with amusement.
“Now I really do!” You say, a girlish giggle overtaking you before you could help it. It forces a smile on his lips, although it’s more nervous than anything else.
“No, you just want to get a rise out of me” He argues, gritting his teeth to maintain some semblance of composure. He’s not doing a very good job, but the attempt is there.
“So you’re saying I am getting a rise out of you, loverboy?” You ask, and you look all too excited by the idea. If Yuuta wasn’t sure before, he is now- you’re evil.
He takes his drink, forcing himself to look away from you as long as he could stand. He can’t deny he misses the sight of you as soon as it’s gone, and he cheats a little by keeping an eye on you in his peripheral vision. If Inumaki were around, he’d tell him he’s whipped. Cooked. Done for. He wouldn’t be wrong, either.
You’re getting comfortable with the little nickname, with a cheeky smile as you press in closer to him again, invading his view when he’s trying to remind himself of the value in your friendship, of how much he respects you, and not about things like how plush your chest feels when you lean up against his arm.
He takes a few long gulps of his drink, half the glass depleted by the time he releases the straw.
You decide to give him a little break, leaning off him in exchange for wrapping your hand around his forearm, tugging just enough to pull his attention away from the bar.
“Will you walk with me over to the touchtunes box? I left my phone with Yuji, and he and Megumi disappeared ages ago”
When did you even have time to notice that? Yuuta wonders as he finally gives the table of your friends a glance. He almost could have forgotten they were here. Sure enough, Yuji and Megumi were nowhere to be found. Typical.
“Yeah, let’s go,” He agrees, nodding for you to lead the way. You hold your drink close as you plot out the best path through the crowd, and Yuuta follows close behind.
His hand reaches for your waist, but he hesitates before placing it there, so he lets it hover, just enough that if he needed to in a moment’s notice, he could grab hold of you. But trailing behind you is enough for now.
Besides, from behind, you won’t notice the deadly look on his face when he catches anyone else looking at you. It doesn’t matter where their eyes are directed, you’re not there for any of them.
His fingers twitch, barely tapping you on the hip as you slither through the crowd. It’s enough to gain your attention, your head tilting to glance at him from over your shoulder. His eyes are elsewhere, still scanning the people you’re passing by. You smile, amused by his antics, before you wrap your free hand around his wrist. Yuuta’s looking at you again as you both pull him closer, and place his hand properly at the dip in your waist. Then you’re facing forward again as you reach the modern jukebox.
It appears there’s a long queue already going- figures, with this crowd, everyone has already added their favorite songs to the playlist- but you figure you’ll be here a while anyways, so no harm in adding your own.
“How many times do we really need the Monster Mash in one night, hm?” You mumble to yourself as you scroll through the long list of songs already on the queue. “Spice it up a little, people”
Yuuta’s not sure if you’re talking to him or yourself, too focused on the soft silk of your dress under his palm. He has yet to work up the strength to pull his hand away from you, and if anything, his grip has only tightened since you’d led it there. He hovers behind you like an apparition that’s been chained to your soul. Tall, dark, and looming, with no intent of moving.
Not that you mind, tapping away at the screen to find the song of your choice to add to the mix. If anything, you seem more delighted with yourself than before, singing along to the Monster Mash despite your complaints, and sipping on your drink.
“Any recommendations?” You ask after you’ve selected a few songs for yourself, and one that you know Nobara would love to hear.
“Hm?” Yuuta hums in question when he realizes you’d been talking to him, and he’d been too deep in his thoughts to catch it.
“Songs, loverboy, any songs you want added?” You tease him for spacing out, casting him a grin he can only describe as wicked.
“Oh,” He pouts at your teasing, and then shakes his head. “No, pick whatever you want”
“Okay,” Your eyelashes flutter at him and his hand tenses against your hip. But you’re already focused on the touchtunes screen again, finishing up your work.
When you’re done, though, you return your attention to him completely. You spin around, your frilly little skirt bouncing with your movement, brushing against his legs with how close you stand. You make sure to keep a gentle hold on his arm, that way he won’t try to put any distance between you now that you’re face to face.
“Now what to do while we wait for the decent music to come on?” You ask, your tone suggesting you had a few ideas, but you’ve been waiting for Yuuta to open up and let loose all night, so you hope he’ll read your mind and pick out something he likes for himself.
He takes a swallow, eyes flickering between the small smirk curling at the corner of your lips and your impatient gaze. Your friends were sure to notice your absence eventually, but then again Yuji and Megumi seemed to be missing as well and no one had come searching for you both yet. So maybe you had a little more time to yourselves.
So with a surge of confidence, Yuuta leans a little closer towards you, until his lips are close enough to your ear that he doesn’t have to speak much louder than a murmur for you to hear him.
“Why’d you really want to hang out with me all night?”
He leans back to get a good look at you after he asks his question, basking in the heat rising to your cheeks. Your smile almost looks bashful now, and his eyes linger on your lips a bit too long as he waits for your answer.
“Like you said…” You speak slowly, “I thought it’d be fun to get a rise out of you,” You admit, trying to maintain the confidence that you’d come into the night with. It gets a little harder as Yuuta’s the one initiating entering your personal space. His fingers had started to draw lazy circles against the silky fabric you wore, and it proved to be enough stimulation to make your mind a little foggy. “Which… I was right”
“Well I’m glad you’ve had your fun” He sounds a little bitter that you’ve had so much fun all on your own and at his expense, but you’re quick to lift his spirits, and curiosity.
“I’d like to have s’more,” You say, peeking up at him from under your long eyelashes with enough hope and excitement behind your eyes that Yuuta’s stomach flips, and his hand stills at your waist again.
He’s silent for a beat too long, and you tilt your head at him as you gauge his reaction. His words are stuck in his throat again, and his face is turning that shade of pink you think is so cute- you can’t stand it any longer.
“Yuuta, if you don’t make a move I think I might have to start begging” You whisper, a breathless laugh following your words as a nervous chill spreads down your spine, covering you in goosebumps.
A similar shock courses through Yuuta’s system, and it’s like his body finally comes to life. Both of your drinks are on a table and his hands are wrapping around your waist so fast and this time you’re sure that’s his cursed energy prickling in the air like static electricity. You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s backed you into the touchtunes box and pinned you there.
“C’mere then” His lips brush yours as one of his hands slide around your jaw to guide your lips to his. You’re able to suck in a breath at the last second before his lips envelop yours, but it reduces you to a weak little gasp that he swallows instantly.
Your last shred of dignity thrown out the window, you melt under Yuuta’s kiss and give in completely. Turns out with enough pushing and shoving, you could get him to break, and what a well played game it was. His mouth is dominating over yours so perfectly, controlling the kiss to his every whim and desire, leaving you no choice but to follow his lead and submit.
With all of your inhibitions lowered, and no thought left on your mind that didn’t revolve around Yuuta, your every move was delayed yet frantic. It takes a few minutes of lip locking before you realize your hands are dreadfully empty, and the next thing you know they’re all over him. Grabbing his arms, the front of the jacket he wore, then his shoulders- and your touch was far from gentle. You gripped onto him like your life depended on it, as if you would fall down if it weren’t for him grounding you. Even though you were pinned against the jukebox with no wiggle room for escape thanks to Yuuta’s larger frame.
He tilts your head back further, teeth grazing your swollen lips before diving back in and deepening your kiss. There’s so much he wants to tell you now that this line has been crossed between you, but he doesn’t want to waste even a second of this moment, so his lips cover yours again and soon enough he gives into the need to explore your mouth with his tongue.
Your knees are growing weak, so you let all of your weight rest between his hold on you and against the machine. You’re hardly on the planet earth right now, and it shows in the way you make sweet noises against his mouth and the way your hands tug him closer by the front of his shirt, pulling as if there was any possible way he could crowd you even more than he was. If you had any control over your own legs, you’d climb up his torso like a tree just to get closer, but you don’t, so you settle for pulling and tugging on him.
Amongst the little whimpers and whines between kisses, you finally let out a strangled noise that sounds close enough to his name that Yuuta finally breaks away. He’s not far, his nose still pressed against yours, his lips still close enough that he can feel every pant, but he can no longer push down the desire to get a good look at you, at what he’s reduced you to.
Your lipstick is ruined, smudged all around your lips and staining your skin, and he probably looks the same. It takes you a second to open your eyes, and gather your bearings, but you don’t fare much better than him. Your grip on his shirt remains firm, letting him know that you won’t be letting him break for long. And you haven’t even caught your breath.
“You make the prettiest maid, baby,” He murmurs, his thoughts catching up to him when your eyes finally flutter open, heavy and tired but still light up with a look that has him wanting to devour you again. Baby rings in your ears the way he says it, low and murmured, his voice a little raspy, you’d like to hear it a dozen more times. Yuuta must be able to tell by the way your cheeks flush and your lips twitch. “You’ve been messing with me all night, don’t get all bashful on me now” He chuckles, grinning from ear to ear as he watches you try to hide it, too.
Knowing you wouldn’t be able to hide the butterflies currently destroying you from the inside out, you decide on the next best thing, wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him back in for another kiss. You’re both just as lost in it as the other, with Yuuta’s hands roaming up and down your sides, tickling your ribs and setting fires with every new inch of your body he touched.
When his reach lowers, trailing down the skirt of your dress and grazing over your upper thigh, you don’t think twice about lifting your leg, and he doesn’t think twice about pushing in closer with a new grip on your leg keeping you snug against him. You finally get a noise out of him, the faintest groan against your mouth as his teeth graze your lip again, this time giving into impulse and biting down on the plump swollen flesh. Simultaneously, his fingers dig into the plush of your thigh and you hardly remember where you are when you start to tug on his hair in an attempt to elicit more noise out of him.
You’re floating away, focused on nothing other than the way he feels against you. Any shred of awareness- social or physical- is lost or destroyed. You couldn’t care about much other than the feeling of his hand creeping up your leg and skimming under your skirt, or how his tongue feels like velvet when it rolls against yours.
“Oh my god, sluts!”
You come crashing down when you’re so rudely interrupted, Yuuta’s lips tearing away from yours, and at the same time, you both catch your friends, catching you, with a mix of emotion on their faces.
Maki was the one that barked at you both, pulling you out of your trance and reminding you of where you were. She’s rolling her eyes, while beside her, Nobara is giggling behind her hands and bouncing on her feet.
As you and Yuuta both scan your friends’ reactions, you slowly pry apart. His hand sliding back out from under your skirt and finding a more respectful spot on your waist, steadying you as you lower your leg from his hip and set a wobbly heeled foot back on the floor.
“Were you guys watchinggg?” You drawl, a tipsy giggle tumbling out of your lips as you cover your pink cheeks with your hand.
“No!”
“Bonito flakes!”
“We just wanted to check out the queue on touchtunes, but you two were too busy fucking on it-!”
“Maki!” Nobara squeals through her laughter as she scolds her girlfriend.
“We were not!” Yuuta finds his voice to defend himself, but with a face as red as his, he loses all credibility.
“Were too!” Maki argues.
“Your hand was up my skirt” You mumble up at him, and he shoots you a perplexed look.
“Who’s side are you on?” He mutters, and you bat your eyelashes a few times to regain his affections.
“The side that gets us out of here faster?” You suggest.
“Gross!” Maki shouts, grabbing Nobara by the hand. “We’re not looking for the other two, I’ve watched enough smut for tonight!” She’s still shouting her distaste while Nobara waltzes beside her.
Inumaki mutters a few rice ball ingredients before he heads to the bar. You have a feeling he’s ordering himself a shot of the strongest thing they have to offer.
Panda just grins, straightens his clown tie, and follows after his vampire-dressed friend.
Leaving you and Yuuta alone again.
You smile prettily up at him, your hands resting against his chest, one finger tracing a splotch of fake blood.
“That was kind of exciting” You admit, your eyes focused on the movement of your finger while Yuuta was gazing down at you.
“Which part? Making out or getting caught?” He asks, his brows already furrowed as he was afraid of your answer being the latter.
“Both?” You muse, glancing up at him and smiling devilishly at the worry in his features. “You wanna go get caught somewhere else?”
“You’re serious?”
He’s dancing the line of concern and amusement, but it only takes a little tug from you to drag him towards the hallway where the bathrooms were and he’s following your lead. Was it a good idea? He didn’t know. He didn’t care. Following behind you he could watch the perfect way your frilly little skirt bounced and any rational thought flew far from his mind.
“You’re gonna keep this costume, right?” He asks when you drag him into a stall and lock the door behind him. This time, you’re the one backing him up against the wall as your hands dive back into his hair.
“I would if you asked nicely,” You murmur against his lips, stealing one sweet kiss before tilting your head back again. “Might take a little convincing, though”
Yuuta sighs helplessly, chasing after your lips and pulling you in closer. He had the perfect argument in mind. As well as a few other ideas of what to dress you up in.
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Predictions / wishlists for tsc2 & 3
1 - We heard Edgar Allan might bring back some graduates to coach for them, so one or more of the napkin-worthy backliners could make an appearance. Our new villain?
2 - Jeremy and Jean’s first kiss is on the back of a motorcycle. Maybe Jean learns to ride so he can show Jeremy PCH at sunset, and is sufficiently exhilarated to get out of his own way…
3 - Jean gets his bear magnet with the red beret replaced by someone… and you can’t prove it won’t be Zane. Gasp in horror if you want but there was a time when all we knew of Jean was that he helped Riko torture Neil. If anyone told me after that scene that he'd end up being our boy I’d have wanted to hit them.
4 - One of the female characters gets to have an issue. KUST KIDDING! The girls are all fine, only the boys get to have issues.
5 - Jeremy and Jean each fuck someone else to try to prove something to themselves. At least one of those is probably (not) Kevin.
6 - We know someone’s getting themselves punched and my money’s on Andrew punching Jean. I think they’d talk things out afterwards, but that would need to happen first.
7 - I can also see Jean punching Jeremy - see earlier point. (Wow this post is getting bloodthirsty.) His mental state is fragile you guys. There will be drama.
8 - Jean gives his first ceramic creation to Renee. It has rainbows on it.
9 - At least one of Jeremy's secrets involves him being a lot less pure than he looks. (Does/did he pay for sex? Why did my mind go there? I just feel there’s such a strong virgin/whore theme to Jean’s story.)
10 - Jean hugs Wymack, resulting in my untimely death.
11 - We find out exactly which aspect of history holds Kevin so enthralled. Yes I want to see how close my hc was, but I also desperately need this insight into his character.
12 - Nora continues to unapologetically portray Thea in a way that doesn’t beg for our sympathy or affection, because she is the goddess we need but don’t deserve.
13 - Jean has way too much fun remorselessly prickteasing Jeremy.
14 - We learn what the fuck dealers do. I mean I’ve seen the description but how does this play out from a tactical perspective? We’re only here for the sport, ma’am.
15 - Jean recites a French quote in a tv interview that translates to ‘The King is dead long live the Queen’. (Yes punks that’s my username)
16 - Someone gets to end Tetsuji. And by someone I mean Wymack.
17 - Jean and Jeremy live happily ever.
Yeah I know... whatever’s coming will be both better and worse than anything we can dream up…
#just give me number 16 oh goddess my goddess#oh yeah I have a whole other post about threesomes stay tuned#aftg#all for the game#the foxhole court#aftg tsc#tfc#tsc#the sunshine court#jean moreau#jeremy knox#renee walker#zane reacher#thea muldani#kevin day#david wymack
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I think after her time at the spider society gwen can be very creepy at times, but like doesn't realize it or register it well.
Like she's gwen stacy. The cursed lover. The doomed girl. She is the face of thousands of corpses. The face of thousands of what ifs. A bittersweet dream. A constant longing.
Most of the time when people look at her they don't see her they see someone else. Her simply existing turns the entire society into a haunted house. She's a ghost, she's better off invisible and while I don't think it's intentional she gets pushed to the side a lot by most people I think Miguel, Jess and Peter might be the exception in this concept but even then its gets complicated due to her connection with Miles and eventually this kinda starts rubbing off in an unsettling way.
Gwen is implied to be very high ranking in the society. Jess calls her "her star pupil" and Lyla warned Gwen about the spot before Hobie and Pavitr. And Miguel's "You knew better, Gwen !" She justs seems to be a part of Miguel's gang of higher ups with Peter B and Jess and all that and considering the fact that she's been there for just a few months that's saying something.
I think Gwen took a lot of training and missions to prove herself, and maybe Miguel sent her on more missions to distract her from Miles and stuff. Hell he might have trained her along with Jessica at times which considering how stern they can be I wouldn't be suprised if this rubbed off on gwen who didn't really have anyone else besides Peter and Hobie. Like she has been Spider Woman more than gwen stacy at this point.
Speaking of Spider Woman, I think it's a good time to bring up how gwen's mental state gets fucked up around her identity as a superhero and how it plays into my idea of her being creepy thing. Because like Spider Woman is litteraly considered a murderer in her dimension and isn't very liked. And while yes its true that in most universes Spider Man has its haters. It's way worse in Gwen's dimension like in the comics she gets shocked when people thank her kinda bad. She has supporters but sadly the people who call her a monster are the most vocal. Like even her dad saw Spider Woman that way and even after finding out who she was still pulled a gun at her face so yeah.
Gwen already blames herself for Peter's death and general public opinion doesn't really help with leaving that guilt behind. She internalizes those things. So I think that do her deep internal feelings Gwen might be at times more ruthless and violent than your typical spider hero which can already be shocking especially in contrast to how graceful she can be as spider woman . I don't think she wants to be. But i think its just the internal intrusive thought "No matter what I do I am a monster why pull back ?" And with her whole canon event I think she might be prone to being reckless and throwing herself at danger and being the one to make the biggest sacrifice because hey she is already fated to die.
So yeah I think that at times when the stakes are high Gwen is one of the scariest spiders when she snaps. Like the treatment she received and internalized kinda jumps out and its not pretty at all. And even just in context of her not being in a mission i still think she can be cryptid looking because she kinda acts like she's invisible and just avoids being noticed due to all the peters around.
Like just imagine her beat up with a broken mask and all you see are her cold eyes and its weird because its almost like you have a dead person staring at you and in some ways that's exactly what it is. Or her accidentally scaring people because she's so quiet that they don't see her coming.
Just her looking like a dead girl walking and yeah maybe in a way she is but...it just looks to real and unsettling.
One last thing about this, Miles notices and hates every second of it. In fact I think all of her close friends hate it.
#angel speaks#spider man#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman#spider man into the spider verse#spider gwen#ghost spider#gwen stacy#across the spiderverse#ghostflower#miles morales#spider punk#hobie brown#spider man across the spider verse#spiderman itsv#itsv#angel's headcanons#angel's hcs#spiderman atsv#astv#into the spider verse#astv headcanon#gwen stacy headcanons#spiderman across the spiderverse#gwiles#just imagine Pavitr calling miles like hum your girlfriend is being scary again and miles being like fuck#Actually i think for the spider band its just so...jaring to them especially because they know Gwen and see her for who she is#to them shes just this big cool ballerina punk dork who likes to make others smile and is very affectionate#and then they see this haunted ass dissociation and ghostly dead eye stare shit and are like what the fuck
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Devil May Halloween - Ghost Riders In The Sky (Dante)
Devil May Halloween 2024 - Ghost Riders In The Sky (Dante's Halloween Special)
Pairing: Dante x Reader Summary: Oh, Halloween. Last year, you were almost forcefully married to a demon, so Dante's keeping his eyes on you. Well, this time, he will be the one needing help - and only a demon at the crossroads will be able to give you the powers to help your red devil. Rider, you should've known better to change your ways so you wouldn't ride with the ghost riders. Word Count: 25k words, it's a book, BEWARE. Author's Notes: Big big BIG credit to our beloved @furyeclipse who literally helped me write this year! We did this one as a sort of a collab and Fury wrote everything Ovid - so don't forget to sing her praises too!! We got you guys 55 pages of pure DMC crew Halloween shenanigans this time! I was on a big cowboy mood and I LOVE Johnny Cash's song, Ghost Riders In The Sky, with all my heart as well as... YES, THE GHOST RIDER MOVIE WITH NIC CAGE. NOT SORRY, I ADORED IT AS A TEEN. Hahahahaha those were the inspirations - oh, and of course Scooby-Doo inspiration with Nico and Kyrie on this one. Fury helped me getting the ideas going and I just finished writing it yesterday, if I'm not wrong. I do hope you guys enjoy it! I also hope Vergil's will follow soon, but I can't guarantee anything. Do apologize - but I hope Dante's can suffice for now. Happy Halloween, my dear critters, hunters and cheeky devils! ;)
“We’re stickin’ together this year, babe.”
You were almost laughing, but you didn’t want Dante to feel bad for wanting to keep an eye on you – your laughs would be of how endearing you thought he was being rather than anything else, but it would be too much to explain.
His protectiveness actually had a point, and you had to give him that.
“Ok, big guy.” Even so, you couldn’t refrain your voice of sounding a little dismissive. It wasn’t like you didn’t carry around a huge sword and a couple of guns to hunt demons by yourself as well – his worries had a point but, quite frankly, you could always put one hell of a fight if something even tried to touch you.
“Ei, I mean it!” You were walking side by side, but he pointed at you for emphasis. It was impressive how Dante could carry so much worry in his voice and still act absolutely nonchalant about everything – you thought it had something to do with the way his hips swayed during his laidback walks; even during a job, like you were at the moment. “Do I have to remind ya what happened every single last Halloween we had together?”
“I know, I know.” You sighed, but you had to agree with him. From a cursed top hat to being kidnapped to a demonic wedding, you had been through it all. Each year, you thought something new couldn’t happen, until Halloween arrived and, lo and behold, you were both in some new, crazy adventure. “To think it all started with that frigging top hat. How do you think Cheshire demon is doing? Any word from it?”
“Well, Patty allows it out of the hat from time to time. It seems to like her and protect her, who would’ve known?” Dante shrugged, letting out a long sigh himself. Patty practically stole the hat from the shop one day, and there wasn’t much Dante could do to have it back – the girl had a will of steel and, if he thought it was really dangerous, he would’ve never allowed it to touch her hands. In his eyes, everything was under control and Patty seemed… Happy. He would never steal happiness from her. “That spook is kinda her pet now. They’re ‘best friends forever’, who am I to get in the way?”
You let out a giggle. Dante looked like a father whose kid just brought a stray from the streets and looked at him with puppy eyes, asking to be able to keep it.
Only Patty’s stray was a skinny, creepy Cheshire cat looking demon, with a mischievous grin… But a good heart.
It looked worse than it acted, in all honesty. You were team Patty on this one.
“What…?” Dante side eyed you, noticing your endeared giggle and pleased expression.
“Well. You’re one hell of a dad, big guy. That’s all.” You answered in a sing-song tune, incredibly satisfied to be having that conversation mid-Halloween job with your half-demon life partner. “Best dad material I could’ve ever wished for. Really.”
And there it was, your life-long ability of making Dante speechless. It was something Vergil would almost always applaud if he was around, but you rarely left Dante speechless over thoughtful feelings in front of other people – those moments were mostly reserved to yourselves.
He immediately tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants – and you could almost say he was blushing. Dante turned pensive in the blink of an eye, and you couldn’t help but smile.
A father. He never really saw himself becoming one or even being one – and his expectations would be to be terrible at it, like his old man before him. Not that Sparda was a horrible dad when he was around, but he wasn’t. When Dante, Vergil and Eva needed the most, Sparda was nowhere to be seen. He never really knew what happened to him – just disappeared from the world and left them with the curse of his blood and stain of his name.
You knew very much what you were doing when you said he was great father material. You wanted Dante to feel proud of that – eventually, because he would have very much conflicting feelings about being seen as a dad… Mostly because, like everything else in his personal life, his immediate reaction would be to think he would absolutely suck at it.
Dante wasn’t the best at receiving heartfelt, sincere compliments. You were well-aware of that.
That’s why you had a personal mission to make him understand how amazing he was in your eyes – one compliment at a time.
“Well. At least I didn’t inherit that from my ol’ man.” He finally said out loud, looking back at you and flashing a half-smile on his lips. “Creepy-ass demons aside, you’re stayin’ under my radar today, hot stuff. With someone like yourself around, I’m gonna have to worry about demons tryna marry you every Halloween now.”
“Oh, please…” You rolled your eyes with his answer, making Dante immediately laugh in response. He was teasing, of course, but there was a sting of truth to his words. “That was… Awful. I hope it never happens again. If I have to wear one of those horrid wedding gowns again, I swear… I’m gonna start throwing punches.”
“Sucker punchin’ demons down the aisle, what an entrance!” Dante had to laugh alongside you – the previous Halloween had been one hell of a ride to say the least. “But hey, I’ll always be around to tear those horrible clothes off you, babe.”
“Oh, and that you do quite well, you devil…” You had to giggle in return as Dante had the cockiest grin slapped on his lips. Oh, how you loved bantering with your red devil.
Alas, it was Halloween, and all that sweet talking with your beloved red devil would have to wait. You two had finally arrived back at the hotel you were staying with the whole crew – courtesy of the inhabitants of the very western looking little town that called your services for that night.
Something had been brewing for quite a while: you and Dante had noticed it, but you weren’t able to actually identify what in the hell was going on. Ever since the disco incident with the hellish imps in Redgrave, it didn’t slip past your fingers that random summoning of demons was increasing around smaller cities – the hellish imps were probably a group that detached from the original summoning point and decided to wreak mischief right at the Devil May Cry’s backyard.
One city, though, seemed to be the most affected. Silverstone was quite small compared to Redgrave, but very much a tourist town. It thrived on its western look and it took pride in being known as a place that could take its visitors back in time to years of salons, gold rushes, wanted posters and duels at noon. Recently, though, the tourists were a little bit scared and decided to avoid the place, and with reason: demons were becoming increasingly common around the area.
There wasn’t much to do against it, for the demons seemed to come from the desert, at night, with a thirst for blood and human flesh – leaving only destruction in its wake. The political leaders of the city were taking too long to figure out what to do, so the tradespeople of Silverstone decided to come together and take matters into their own hands.
With a little council formed – mostly with owners of hotels, cafés, restaurants, shops, and every other kind of business that could benefit from tourists – you had quite the interesting proposition at the Devil May Cry for that year’s Halloween night.
*
“C’mon in! Door’s open!”
It was a chilly autumn evening at the Devil May Cry – nothing really eventful happening, so you took the opportunity to kick Dante off his chair and help you organize the shop a little bit. He didn’t complain – after all, things were a lot better after you came into his life; organizing the shop was one of those things.
You didn’t expect a knock on the heavy doors of the Devil May Cry, though. Since Dante was near the kitchen and your hands were busy putting your swords away on their rightful place at the wall right behind the desk, telling the random customer to come in was the best way to welcome them.
“Didn’t know it was time for a ‘Fall cleanin’ at this place! Looks like you can work miracles, after all.” That raspy voice and the smell of cigar was unmistakable. You giggled as you turned around to greet him.
“Well, you know how I roll, Morrison. If I can’t work miracles, I don’t even show up.” You rested your hands on your waist, having a cocky smile on your lips – which made Morrison laugh in return.
“I sure do hope you people can work miracles alright, pal.” What you did not expect to see, was Morrison’s client: a man well into his sixties, huge white mustache curled up at the ends, wearing light jeans, snake leather boots, checkered button up shirt to his neck and a white, quite imposing, cowboy hat – which he took off to greet you respectfully, revealing his combed back white hair.
“Well, if you call closin’ the Gates of Hell a miracle, we’ve been known to work those from time to time, Colonel Sanders.” As soon as Dante finished his sentence, you closed your eyes, controlling yourself not to giggle. You never wanted to seem rude to customers, but you had to admit, having a cowboy in the shop was a first. A cowboy other than Dante, that is. “Halloween is approachin’ and we’ve been havin’ more spooks than the usual around. Is that what this is ‘bout?”
The Colonel Sanders cowboy gazed at Morrison as if asking if the man had briefed Dante in advance. As the red devil sat on his huge chair, you rested on the edge of the desk, crossing your arms and allowing a proud smile to spread across your lips – Dante always played the goofy, reckless rockstar card, but he was far from being naïve and, how his twin liked to call him, foolish. When it came to his job, he was quick to notice patterns and underlying intentions of demons – and, since your hellish imp disco job, he had been keeping an eye on the increase of devils in and around Redgrave.
Oh, yes. You were more than proud to call him your lover.
“Told ya. He might not look like much, but he’s good.” Morrison answered the man’s look, making you giggle a bit. You could feel Dante glaring at you – the ‘he might not look like much’ would come up later, in a teasing and friendly banter between you both. “You guessed it, Dante. There’s a lot goin’ on, but I’ll let Mr. Carson here do the explainin’.”
“I take it you’re not from the city, Mr.” Dante pointed at the man’s hat, as Morrison moved to his favorite spot on the shop’s couch and the man approached the desk.
“Ye, not from around, indeed. Call me Buck.” The man took his time to shake Dante’s hand and yours – with a strong grip, but not as rough as you expected. You had to admit, you were a lot more familiar with rougher hands – like Dante’s. “I’m from Silverstone, you people probably heard of it.”
“Hmmm. Up north, smaller city. Got the name because of the silver mines around; one of the biggest cities back in the day, right?” You had to pull the mental map you had in your head to find Silverstone – it was a touristic city you had always wanted to visit but never really got the chance, hence why you knew so much about it. Also, it was good knowing maps by heart when you had to count on Nico driving you somewhere: you had been lost a couple of times with Nero, Dante and Vergil and it was chaotic, to say the least.
“Yes, pal, and we take pride in that!” Buck’s mustache smiled to hear you knew about his small town – something he didn’t really expect from people in big cities. Dante also looked at you, with his eyebrows raised, as you only looked back at him with a matter-of-fact expression in your eyes. He called you a know-it-all sometimes, but he actually loved that about you.
Vergil was a whole different kind of know-it-all – as per his words, the asshole kind.
“We been havin’ problems in Silverstone lately… Demon problems.” Buck’s dark brown eyes now turned serious, drawing yours and Dante’s attention. “It started with some small, flyin’ things. Annoyin’ little folk who liked to upset the cattle and do all kinds of mischief devilry around the city; they were drivin’ the tradespeople mad. But nothin’ a good ol’ rifle couldn’t solve. Some men and women took ‘em as target practice.”
“Hellish imps. You’re talking about hellish imps.” And even though you had a smile on your lips, you couldn’t look more annoyed. Dante couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“They’re easy to kill, but annoyin’ as hell.” He shook his head, remembering finding you in the disco, hopelessly chained to a chair, while the imps from Hell messed around with your stuff while Stayin’ Alive blasted through the amps. It was a sight to see – a funny, but rather cute one. “We also had some problems with ‘em recently.”
“Well, if we had only those… Hellish imps, you said… ‘Round the town, folks would take care of ‘em, no need for help. After a month, I think, it got worse.” Buck’s face turned somber and his shoulders seemed to recoil to himself – even if he was a naturally imposing kind of guy, it looked like he got a little smaller… Fearful, even. “Folks from farms started reportin’ dead cattle – not your usual disease or random poisonin’ from eatin’ bad food, no, poor cattle were bein’ torn to shreds; all blood drained. Some of us decided to take a look…” Buck shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. “Overnight, farms turned into fields worse than slaughterhouses. I never seen anythin’ like it. And it was random too: some cattle dead, some alive.”
“Hmmm. Demons do have a thirst for blood, but only lesser ones wouldn’t risk going after armed humans.” You pondered, your memory going back to all the things you read in the Codex Daemonica. It was the best knowledge reference you knew… After Dante and Vergil. “You might’ve grown a reputation of being too tough for them not to attack you right away.”
“We tried to keep our lil’ town as protected as we could, pal.” Buck now had a thankful smile on his mustache, proud to hear someone like you appreciated their efforts and courage. “That didn’t keep those things at bay, though. We tried all superstition and priests to keep those things away. Some of us even tried shootin’ some in the dark, but they kept comin’ back. Farmers would be terrorized inside their houses at night, keepin’ their families safe and prayin’ they wouldn’t wake up to their cattle mutilated.” The man’s thick, white eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, eyes turning somber once again. “We were fightin’, pal. Keepin’ things together as we could. ‘Til that thunderstorm; rumblin’ in the skies like the devil’s herd themselves, crossin’ our path to bring our doom.”
You felt a chill dripping down your spine, rearranging yourself at the edge of Dante’s desk as if you were trying to make your sitting spot more comfortable. You weren’t one to fear any sort of devilish stories – quite the contraire, you and Dante heard those with enthusiasm and even let out some good laughs while at it – but you had to give it to that cowboy. He knew how to tell an ominous story, and that was a rare find.
He would be a certified success at camps, telling ghost stories by a bonfire at night.
“Thunderstorm, huh? That’s no small demon.” Dante suddenly turned serious – and when that happened, play time was over.
“Nothin’ small indeed. The cattle mutilation got worse, if you can imagine. Their blood, their parts… Gone. Some folk in the city tried to see what was goin’ on, and they did see somethin’: dark figures, watchin’ us from over the hills. Always when the night was approachin’, when the horror would begin. The ones who tried to fight back… Well…” Buck sighed, taking a little embroidered handkerchief from his pockets and drying some of the sweat that started to appear between his bushy white brows. “We lost our first townspeople. Good folk. Fair, hardworkin’ people. Good with a rifle too.”
“I know it’s a rather insensitive question, but it’s important, Mr. Carson…” You immediately apologized before you could even ask what you had in mind – after all, you could see the sorrow in the man’s eyes. Sorrowful cowboys had your heart softened like ice cream melting on summer, and you had Dante to blame over that. “But were there bodies? If so, did they have anything missing…?”
“Hmmm, yeah, they had some parts missin’… Mostly hair, nails… One of them, those things they… Well, they…” Buck sighed once more, putting the handkerchief away. You and Dante were used to that sort of horror – having contact with someone who didn’t work in the business like you did was definitely grounding as to what was considered horrible or not. “They took tongues and teeth too. A grim sight, pal, a grim sight… They all had their throats slit, clean cut, pale with their eyes frozen in fear. Forever starin’ at the thing that took their life.”
“Wait, you said clean cut…? As in a blade cut?” Dante had both his arms on his table now, leaning forward with interest as his eyebrows betrayed the confusion that information caused him. “Not an animal’s claw?”
“Nah, friend, that was definitely a blade. I know my animals, and I’m a pretty decent tracker along with some folks who like to hunt together sometimes. We know what’s a cut from a knife and a cut from a beast. Even those beasts you two been huntin’.” Buck shook his head affirmatively with so much conviction you couldn’t doubt his words. “Every single throat was slashed with a blade, maybe a huntin’ knife. The rest that was taken… Well, I dunno. I don’t wanna think a human could’ve done somethin’ so monstrous to someone else. That’s gotta be those demons of yours… After all, they come back every night.”
“And they kill humans every night as well? How many so far?” You maybe had something in your mind, but things were actually quite foggy. Some things didn’t add up – and, judging by Dante’s expression, he was on the same page as you.
“Not every night, no. We’ve been keepin’ ourselves safe. We’ve been sleepin’ together at big places: hotels, churches, markets. Barricade the doors, guards with rifles takin’ turns so everyone has a chance to rest, town watch to keep an eye on the dark figures on the hills… But sometimes, that’s not enough, friend. Sometimes, one of us gets lost and the body turns up the next day.” Buck lowered his head, shaking it right after. “It took us some time to find out how to fight back. We never knew there were… Professionals in dealin’ with those things. We thought we were abandoned to our own doom and nothin’ could save us, until a random couple from Redgrave said a man named Dante might be able to help our lil’ town. Gave us a number, and Morrison picked up.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you found us, then.” You smiled back, trying to lift up the mood a little bit – something that was quite impossible, but you pitied the man. You just wanted to see cowboys smiling; again, something you would always blame Dante for.
“I hope so, friend.” His mustache curled up on a small smile and you already had some more joy in your heart. Dante almost laughed upon seeing you so happy from trying to cheer up a client – you would always do the best you could, and you would always let your heart open to empathy. Something so human, and so lovely to his eyes. “Folks in town weren’t so sure ‘bout me comin’ all the way down to Redgrave to check this ‘devil hunter’, but it’s the last chance we got. We decided to risk it.”
“Your gamble paid off, pal. You got me interested – and, if you’re payin’, you got me hired.” Dante sighed back in his classic nonchalant way, already getting up from his chair, offering his hand to close the deal.
“That won’t be a problem. A job well-done is a job well-paid – you get rid of those horrors in Silverstone, the whole town will be more than willin’ to compensate you, pal.” Buck put his hat back on, shaking Dante’s hand. “I’ll be goin’ back to town tomorrow first time in the mornin’ –”
“Ya don’t have to worry. We can keep up.”
The biggest smile in the room was Morrison’s: he always got a commission whenever he found a job for you and Dante, so the promise of the whole town being monetarily thankful to you both was a great prospect for him as well. As Morrison and Buck Carson left the shop, and you all said your goodbyes, Dante went around the desk, slightly leaning on it by your side while keeping his arms crossed and eyes on the door – just like you.
“Demons don’t usually use blades.” You finally said what you both thought was so weird about all that story.
“And when they do, they’re not the chaotic bunch of the imps. They’re much worse.” Dante agreed with you, his voice now serious and pensive.
“What do you think? Hell Generals? Higher rank demons?” You furrowed your brows a bit, looking up to his reflective face. “Angelos…?”
“Might be… Might be all of them, might be just one.” Dante sighed, slouching a bit on his desk while blankly staring at the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry. “We’ll only figure it out when we get to Silverstone.”
“Hmmm. I guess you’re right.” After your own sigh, you did your best to reach out to his face and place a rather long kiss on his rough jaw – making Dante look back at you quite confused, breaking his blank stare and having life back into those sky-blue eyes. “You’re very handsome when you’re brooding, cowboy, did you know that?”
“Oh, you like it when I’m serious, sheriff?” And even if he kept his straight expression, you could hear the fun teasing and loving notes in Dante’s voice. “Maybe I’ve to play the ‘stoic cowboy’ more often to ya.”
“Eh, I love you anyway, red devil. You don’t have to play any roles for me.” You shrugged, giggling as Dante’s hands already pulled you closer to him, sneaking around your waist. “Blame it on that handsome face of yours.”
“Ya think I’m handsome, then…?” And now he had a bit of his goofy smile on his lips, hell bent on teasing you for the rest of the night. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into – and, considering every single Halloween prior to this one, that kind of break would be very welcome. You could feel it in your bones. “My sheriff has a thing for handsome devils, huh?”
“For one handsome devil. I’m pretty committed, you know…?” You finally allowed him to playfully kiss your lips, both of you smiling between pecks. “I’m not one to think everyone is handsome. I have standards.”
“Oh, and this cowboy here is your kind of standard, yeah?”
“You bet you are, Dante.” With the certainty of your voice and the way you pulled his head to a deeper kiss, something ignited in Dante’s chest. You knew exactly how to get him going – and he would never complain about that.
“Ok, sheriff. You got what you wished for!” Breaking the kiss, Dante immediately lifted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style throughout the shop and up the stairs. “Undivided attention from your handsome devil tonight, no refunds!”
“See? You surpass every standard I may have, babe!” You giggled, leaving a few kisses on his neck.
That was something you both learned after a few couple life-threatening, serious jobs: always seize the moment you had before the storm; enjoy every kiss and every touch you could with each other prior to one of those dangerous gigs – it could very well be the last chance you would have.
*
“Well, well, rise and shine! Got enough of your beauty sleep?” Of course, Dante had to tease his nephew – or it wouldn’t be Dante.
“Yeah, maybe you should try it too. Be lookin’ too much like an old man, soon they’ll be mistakin’ you for Santa.” Nero’s answer was as sharp as his sword, perfect for a punk like him. You had to wheeze, receiving a side-eye from your red devil.
“What?” You shrugged back, while Kyrie stopped by the porch of the grand Wild West looking hotel you were all staying – property of Buck Carson – worriedly observing the hills in the distance against the orange sky. “You kinda asked for it. Santa.”
“Great.” Dante’s smile was poisoned with annoyance. “Lil’ angel is comin’ along too?”
“Nah, I don’t think it’s a good idea…” Nero started mumbling, and you could see it in his face: it was a topic of discussion between them both. Kyrie was brave and wanted to save people, while Nero was overprotective and wanted to save her at all costs. After the almost marriage, he became a little worse. “There’s plenty of people to help here in town…”
“The demons might have kidnapped and hurt people already, wherever they are.” Kyrie’s hazelnut eyes focused back on Nero – determined, but still kind. “If so, those people need help. You can kill the demons, but I can help the people.” She turned her eyes to you, like an accomplice. “It’s what we have been doing for a while now.”
“Yeah, it backfired last year. With both of ya.” Nero added, having you looking back at him with surprise, resting your hands on your hips. That was bold of him, to talk to you like that. He was your honorary nephew, after all.
You finally felt the pang of a parent being antagonized by their child and you were ready to give him your very first scolding – what a Halloween already.
“Eh, have to agree with the kid on that one.” But Dante got in the way first, and now your surprised gaze turned to your red devil – who immediately picked it up and was quite used to some scolding. “Ei, I’m just sayin’, babe! Last year, you both got yourselves in a pickle, this close to marryin’ a demon in a ceremony that would be a real pain in the ass to nullify if it had happened.” And Dante wouldn’t argue if he wasn’t worried himself: if it was just him, Vergil or Nero being headstrong about something stupid, he would let it go – but it was about you. And your safety was a subject he would never let go. “Cut us some slack here, will ya? We’re just tryna keep ya safe.”
You and Kyrie never looked so conflicted in your entire lifetimes up until that point. There you were, standing on the porch side by side, hands on your waists, ready to rebuke them like the most annoyed family member of the year – but how could you when your partners were only being that annoying because you were so important to them, the only thing they cared about was keeping you both safe?
You wanted to argue and kiss Dante, all at the same time – and Kyrie perfectly understood your conflict, because she wanted to do precisely the same with Nero.
“Well, you don’t want me to stay here in town, do you?” You finally asked the million dollar question. If you couldn’t disarm them with the old ‘you’re-worrying-too-much’ scolding, you had to appeal to logic. “I’m a devil hunter. I go on jobs by myself. I’m as important as Nero or you, big guy, on this one. Kyrie has been training with Nero for a year now to be able to protect herself on the field whenever she needs to come along to help people, and she’s been helping me a lot last couple of jobs. Even killed some demons herself.” With those words, Kyrie’s hazelnut eyes found yours with pride in them. You remembered telling her how Credo would be proud, and how emotional she got. Since then, she was becoming even fiercer, but still keeping her sweet kindness, only resorting to violence if she had no other option at hand. “If you think we can’t handle ourselves, then all that talk about humans being even stronger than demons is bullshit, and you only say that to feel better about yourselves. Your actions must match your words if you really believe in something, you know.”
Nero and Dante just stared back at you like two wet dogs who did something terribly wrong and now we're being lectured by their owner and asking for forgiveness. Not even in their wildest dreams they could’ve thought such calm words could make them feel so small and embarrassed for their actions. They were completely speechless, trying to find an argument back and trying to keep their pose – but failing miserably.
“Damn, did you go to Vergil’s school of winnin’ an argument…?” Dante shook his head, having his hands on his waist now – and a slight smile on his lips. “You know I do believe in that. You two get in trouble, I’m killin’ the bastard who touched you. That’s it for me.”
“Eh, that’s it for me too…” Nero scratched the back of his head, not being able to counter your logic. “But I’m stayin’ close to you, Kyrie!”
“Heeeeeey there, you suckers! Your magical ride arrived for the night!” Nico appeared just at the right moment, tires singing on the pavement as she parked the van. “Gotta say, the mechanic in town is pretty good! Not like me, of course, but we tuned up a few things that needed some fixin’ and the van is workin’ fine!”
That was enough to get Nero bantering with Nico and Dante on his way to the van, ready to get to work. You and Kyrie followed along together, with her entangling her arm on yours as you went down the stairs of the hotel’s entrance porch.
“That was good! Point for us!” She whispered to you while giggling, making you mirror her actions.
“Hey, I learned with the best.” You pointed back at Kyrie, a satisfied smile appearing on her lips. “Nothing like treating the Spardas like the kids at the orphanage.”
“Oh, a little bit of gentle authority goes a long way with Nero. Dante’s like that too, right?”
“You have no idea. Best thing I’ve ever learned from you.”
“Ei! Can you both stop gossipin’ and get on the van already…?” Nero tried to look annoyed and maintain the punk attitude but you both could see how that was cracking and his whole body looked a lot gentler than his words sounded.
“Eh, kid, we just lost all credibility. Time to accept that.” Dante gave his nephew a pat on the back as he hopped on the van, already used to that kind of situation. Nero just blushed as you both giggled together and he helped Kyrie up while you followed your red devil in.
Plopping right by his side, Dante was calmly reading one of the many magazines about gunsmithing. You scooted near him, landing a quick kiss on his jaw – his eyes finally looking back at you, a half-smile hidden on his lips.
“You know I love you, right?”
“Hell yeah I do, hot stuff.” And he landed a quick peck on your forehead. “I love you too.”
Dante’s attention got back to his magazine as Nico kickstarted the van and you took one of your guns of its case to check if everything was in order before the job. Nero sat by Kyrie’s side like a guard dog while she talked about something completely unrelated to hunting with the gunsmith virtuosa at the wheel.
With the sun almost hiding behind the hills, tainting everything in blood-orange, you all failed to notice the dark figures following your every footsteps and the tires of the van as you plunged in the night to find the demons terrorizing the little town of Silverstone.
*
You had to be fair to Nico: driving in the middle of a dark desert wasn’t an easy task. You were engulfed by a sea of darkness and the only light on the highway was that of the van. Granted, there was nothing for Nico to crash the vehicle on, but she wasn’t leaving the road either.
“What you’re seein’ today, is the new town. A few miles away, there’s the old town of Silverstone – the original, if you will.”
As soon as the sun shone in the sky that morning, you called Kyrie and briefed them of the job – which, of course, they were eager to be part of. Buck led you all to the city: riding ahead with Morrison in his truck, followed by the Devil May Cry van… And Dante riding the Cavaliere with you safely holding your red devil’s waist, as you always enjoyed the motorcycle rides.
He introduced you to all the members of the small council of townspeople who decided to take those hellish matters in their own hands and end the horrors – and soon, you were having a meeting to understand where the damn demons were coming from.
“It all started as a silver mine, closer to the hills. Folks started to settle around, built a church and soon, Silverstone was born.” An old woman, Frances Campbell, explained with a map opened on a big table at the hotel’s party room – the common areas now filled with mattresses tossed around and families refusing to dare set a foot outside; be it day or night. “The town was hit with a wave of prosperity, and even more people tried their luck in Silverstone. Soon, there were too many people for such a small little town – and that’s when the town you’re in was born.”
“Why change the location of the town, ma’am?” Kyrie had her attentive eyes analyzing the map and, as always, made the most insightful questions. “Was there something wrong with the initial town?”
“Nothin’ at all, my dear. At least at the beginning.” Frances added, fixing the thin glasses that were starting to slide down the bridge of her nose. “The original town was closer to the mines, but not the water. Silverstone now is a lot closer to the main river in the region.”
“Well, whenever there’s a peak of prosperity, there’s a peak of greed too; at least in my experience.” Dante crossed his arms, also studying the map.
You did love when he got all professional. That’s how you ended up showering him with kisses the previous night.
“And that you are right, Mr. Devil Hunter.” The woman pointed at Dante as a teacher does when a student makes a smart remark – you remembered Buck mentioning she was a retired professor, and you could see she still had that in her. “And with greed, comes crime. People started tryin’ to take advantage of each other, steal, cheat, murder… Everythin’ you hear in ol’ Wild West stories.”
“The type of thing that attracts demons. Maybe that’s why they decided to appear now…?” You furrowed your brows and looked at Dante, but he too had a not so sure expression. “It was long ago, though, as you are saying, ma’am. It’s a long shot, but I’m trying to understand here why demons attacking Silverstone of all places all of a sudden.”
“Well, rumors started goin’ around the town back then, of a man who made a deal with the devil.” And that made all of you even more attentive, as a pack of dogs who hear a favorite word. “He was the richest of Silverstone, built a huge mansion in the old town… Died a horrible death: he got caught in the middle of a stampede. People never found his horse, nor the cattle and the drovers, but they found his body teared in pieces across the desert.”
“How did they know it was a stampede, then…?” And you would never tell him as not to hurt his pride, but Nero looked like a child hearing a spooky story by a bonfire.
“There were roof marks everywhere. Some parts of the sand seemed burned, as if the roofs were made of hot steel.” The lady’s voice was ominous and you did think she and Buck would make one hell of a couple. Maybe that could be your side quest for that Halloween, if there was something close to a spark between them. They would be an absolute banger at the spooky orphanage parties. “The townspeople said the devil had come to collect his part of the bargain for all the money the man got of his contract. Soon, the man’s wife died in an accident at home, and strange, usually deadly, happenin’s started occurring at the mansion. Everyone left and the building was considered haunted. The town started havin’ more and more issues involving death and horrible accidents, and soon everyone believed the man had cursed them from beyond the grave. That’s when the townspeople decided it was time to build a better version of Silverstone.”
“Nothin’ like an old, power-hungry bastard to bring down a whole city…” Nero mumbled more to himself than to anyone else while reading the map – but everyone could feel who he was really talking about. Wherever Vergil was at his Halloween job at the moment, you were certain he was feeling a sting from being stabbed by his own son in the distance. “Gotta a name for this as-Gentleman…?”
You couldn’t hold back a wheeze when Kyrie elbowed Nero so he wouldn’t curse so much in front of Frances, and tried to correct himself.
“Beau Blackwell. My grandma knew him, snob fellow. She never liked him too much, and kept cursin’ his troubled soul ‘til the day she went to the grave herself.”
“The Campbell ladies were never the kind to mess with, that’s for certain.” Buck finally arrived back, having both his hands hanging at the edge of his belt, his moustache smiling to Frances. “Grandma Campbell was a tough one.”
“That she was. Ol’ Blackwell didn’t even try to get in her way.” She had a proud smile back in her thin lips, a spark igniting in her smart eyes as soon as Buck Carson arrived.
Oh, you knew that spark. Your side quest for Halloween was on.
“And what did your grandma think of this Blackwell guy, ma’am? He had a deal?” For Dante, that was the most important information at the moment. A contract could indicate a whole number of things, but there was a good chance the old town had at least one good demon summoning place – at worst, a door to the underworld itself.
“She sure thought he did. As far as she said, Blackwell was a useless wimp who couldn’t find a slab of silver if it was paradin’ naked right in front of his nose.” So far, Nico was serious and didn’t get much into the demon talk – probably studying the map and all the routes in and out of the old town, as she always did. But the whole naked silver slab thing made you and her have to hold a wheeze – Nico failing and trying to mask it with a cough. “He also got to marry the sheriff’s daughter, the most beautiful and smart woman around back then – and the one all men fought to get. For some reason, the woman fell head over heels for a spineless shrimp like Beau.”
“Doesn’t look like she was that smart after all.” Buck shrugged. “I always thought that was the Campbell’s title.”
Oh, yes. Buck was genuinely head over heels for his Frances – and judging by the way she glared him back, with a smart smile on her lips, it was corresponded.
“We kinda got the title after she chose that ass.” With Frances’ answer, Nero couldn’t help but beam a proud smile: if she was cursing, he could curse as well. “The fact is, Blackwell was suddenly hit with a wave of luck that was very much out of character. And then, found death in the most mysterious and grim circumstances.”
“Yeah. That has the foul smell of a demon contract right there…” Dante was pensive again, now looking at the map. “Is the ol’ Blackwell mansion easy to find?”
“Pretty easy, Mr. Devil Hunter. It’s the biggest one in the ol’ town, bigger even than the church. Damn Blackwell was a show-off with all that money of his.”
“Well, it sounds more and more like a contract to me.” Dante sighed, looking back at Frances and Buck. “If they’re watchin’ Silverstone from the hills and there’s that much history in the ol’ town, I think it’s safe to say that’s where the demons are comin’ from. Either way, we’re checkin’ it tonight.”
“Tonight?” Buck’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, Frances copying his worried expression. “Don’t you prefer to go durin’ the day, when those creatures aren’t out?”
“Eh, I can’t put on much of a show if there aren’t any demons to kill, can I?” Dante shrugged and you had to smile. Buck had a point, but you knew the best time to check would be at night: if they were attacking when the sun was gone, that’s when you would find them. Prior to that, you risked finding anything at all. “Besides, I got the cavalry with me. We’ll be fine and you’ll be out of demons in no time.”
With the van riding in pitch-black darkness, though, you couldn’t make out any shapes in the distance: you would only see the creatures on the hills if you had the moon behind it – but it seemed like even the moon herself was hidden that night.
It was eerily quiet as well. You had checked your guns and your sword, making sure everything was in pristine condition. Now that you had nothing else to do, you were watching outside and paying attention to your surroundings – and there weren’t many noises. There were just a few sounds here and there that you couldn’t quite isolate and figure out what it was. But it felt, familiar in an off putting kind of way.
“Ei, sheriff. Everything ok there?” Dante’s voice took you out of your thoughts, and you turned your attention to him. “Your eyebrow will soon look like just one, the way you’re frownin’ there, hot stuff. What’s wrong?”
“Hmmm… I dunno…” You murmured back, trying to relax your eyebrows a little bit. That made Dante smile. “I have a… Feeling.”
“A feelin’, huh? What kind of feelin’, pretty eyes?” And even if he had that easygoing tone sprinkled in his voice and attitude, Dante did take on a more serious demeanor. “Good one? Bad one…?”
“A… Weird one. I can’t quite tell if it’s good or bad…” You had your worried expression back on, trying to understand what the hell was that thing stirring in your heart. Your feelings were notorious between you and Dante: he said it was your spidey-sense tingling, even if you didn’t have any heritage like his. “I just know something is wrong. I’m not feeling like things are completely… Ok.”
“Have they ever been ok in this family, y/n?” Nero had to put his two cents in the conversation, immediately making you a little less worried – and giggling with his question. “But hey, if you’re feelin’ somethin’s wrong, we should have our guard up.”
“Well put, kid. Y/n’s spidey-sense is no joke.”
“It’s not a spidey-sense, c’mon…” You rolled your eyes, already smiling with your red devil and honorary nephew.
But the moment couldn’t last for too long: soon, the van jumped in the air, as if it had aggressively ran over something.
“Hey, Nico! What the fuckin’ hell was that?!” Nero held Kyrie’s waist so she wouldn’t fly around the van – and only after you checked on them, you realized Dante had the very same reaction, but holding you close to him.
If you flew around, you would fly around together. You jump, I jump, as Jack Dawson would say.
“I’ve no idea!!”
“Don’t’cha know how to drive anymore?!” And now Nero stumbled over to the driver’s seat, as Nico stopped the van with a screech. He almost stamped on the front window like a sticker. “What the fuck is goin’ on?!”
“Why don’t you do the drivin’, if you’re so good yourself, huh?!” Nico fixed her glasses on her face, hands trembling and flailing everywhere. “I dunno what happened! It wasn’t an animal, nothin’ like that!! It was too fast and I didn’t see it! One minute, the road was clear, the other, I hit somethin’ and went over it!!”
“Oh, maybe it was a coyote or a wolf trying to cross the road…!” Kyrie’s heart was almost coming out of her throat, but you could all hear the tone of worry in her voice.
“It can very well be, those animals are common around here.” You had your own hand over your heart, feeling it beating like a samba school in peak Carnaval. “They aren’t used to cars, specially this time of the night.”
“C’mon, kid. Let’s check it out.” Dante got up from the seat, leaving Rebellion behind and carrying only Ebony and Ivory in his hands. “If it’s an animal, we can’t leave the pooch agonizing out there. If it isn’t…”
“They’ll regret gettin’ in the way.” Nero answered with a smile and already reloading Blue Rose, leaving Red Queen behind with Kyrie. “You better stay in the van.”
“Was that for me as well? ‘Cause you know, I got my own set of cool guns, too.” You looked back at Dante, waving your dual guns around – and winning a quick laugh from him.
“Hey, if it’s nothin’, it’s just trouble for you, pretty eyes. If it is somethin’, well, thank you’re more than welcome to join the party.” With those words, he winked back at you and left the van with Nero.
You remained close to the van’s door, telling Kyrie to seat beside Nico on the driver’s seat. None of you could really see what was going on: the only thing in front of you was the dark road and endless miles of pitch-black desert. For Kyrie and Nico, it was no different; although they had the headlights to light up a few meters ahead.
You could hear their steps as they quietly approached whatever it was that Nico ran over. Awfully quiet for the both of them. That feeling you had before only tightened in your chest, reverberating even more, almost making you forget how to breathe. Those seconds dragged like feet drenched in quicksand, trying to move but unable to get anywhere.
Until you heard a gunshot.
Before you could even ask what was going on, a dead demon flew over the van and landed on the hood with a loud noise, staring at all of you with its dead eyes and blood splattering everywhere – which made Nico and Kyrie immediately start screaming, almost hugging each other.
You jumped out of the van, finding Nero and Dante surrounded by demons – low tier demons, though, nothing you three couldn’t handle together. Wielding your dual guns, you started to shoot as fast as Dante had taught you.
Not as fast as he did, though. That was his demonic blood at work.
“Where did they come from?” You ran up to him, standing with your back to your red devil’s back – that way, you both could cover a larger area.
“No idea, babe. We were checkin’ out the dead one. Don’t move!” With those words, Dante used the dead demon as leverage to jump right above you and pull off his classic spinning move with Ebony and Ivory. With you in the middle, right below him, it was impossible to hit you.
You had to be fair: you would always be impressed when he did that and managed to keep you safe while slaughtering all the demons around you in one single move.
When you were least expecting, though, a blade flew by your side – superficially slashing your upper right cheek, but enough to make a constant flow of blood trail down your face.
Dark figures were approaching – like the ones the townsfolk described. You, Nero and Dante were already expecting higher rank demons; the ones who were really behind all that mess.
Until you all heard a motorcycle noise.
“What the…?!” Before Nero could finish cursing, though, you all turned around only to find a set of motorcycles running right into your direction. If Nero hadn’t grabbed you and dodged right away, you would certainly end up with a nasty injury.
You counted quickly. There were around sixteen of those dark figures, including the ones on foot and the ones on the motorcycles. One of them held an amulet that glowed with a blood red light in the dark, creating dark seals on the floor – the ones that summoned more of the lesser demons from the underworld.
That was where they were coming from.
“Nico, hit the gas! Get the hell out of here!” Nero immediately screamed, assessing the situation the same way as you did: it was a very bad situation.
“But…!”
“Now’s not the time to argue, Goldstein!” Dante’s voice was almost a roar – and Nico rarely heard him calling her like that. It was enough to make the gunsmith virtuosa get the van running. “Y/n…!”
“Ah, hell no, big guy! I’m not leaving without you!” You roared back, already shooting one of the demons that tried to attack Dante. The van’s tires screeched on the road as Nico turned it around abruptly to go back the way you came from – back to the new town of Silverstone. In a safer place, they could figure out what to do. “You jump, I jump! No refunds!”
Dante’s heart didn’t know if it wanted to jump out of his chest from desperation of having you in such a situation or from elation of you loving him so much as to put yourself in danger.
It was probably because of both.
“Kid! Y/n! Back to back, the three of us! C’mon!” He didn’t even had to say it again: soon, you had Dante’s and Nero’s backs to yours, the three devil hunters making it rain bullets over the demons. The motorcycles tried to approach, but you would always threaten them with killer shots.
With Dante’s sharp eyes in the dark, he eventually hit one of the motorcycles in such a way it crashed a few meters away from you. With the right shot, he could make it explode – and it was a strategy to use. He just wanted some more of those goofs to approach, so he could take a lot of them at the same time.
One of the motorcycles, though, decided to be brave – or suicidal, depending on your point of view – and try to run through the three of you, almost running you over. This time, though, your reflexes were quick enough to dodge in time, but that made you three separate.
“Alright… You clowns are startin’ to piss me off…” With that rumbling comment from Dante, he held out his hand, summoning Devil Sword Dante in a blaze of fire.
You could hear Nero groaning – he definitely missed Red Queen at the moment and ever since Dante managed to summon his two main swords, Nero always complained he couldn’t be that cool while fighting.
Understandable. You were missing your very own sword – you could only wish you could make it come over to you that easily.
At this point, you were pretty sure you would win. As Dante slaughtered the demons – and whatever figure who tried to come any closer – the odds were certainly in your favor. You helped with some shots here and there, aiding his kills and getting the job done.
Until you felt your fingers tingling. Furrowing your brows, you looked down only to see your hands trembling. Your vision became blurry, as the world suddenly tilted under your feet. The gash in your cheek burned with the wrath of the fires of hell.
“What the…” You mumbled, opening and closing your eyes a few times. You could barely hear Nero calling your name: it seemed like he was stuck inside a tin can. “Nero… Dante…?”
“Ei, babe, what’s…” Dante lowered his sword and, before he could finish asking, the dark figure with the amulet finally stepped near enough for you to see it was nothing but a human – which he confirmed when he lowered the hood of the dark robe he, and the other humans, were wearing. “You better start talkin’ before I decide to cut off that ugly head of yours. What’s goin’ on?!”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquittance, son of Sparda.” The man allowed a calm smile to grace his lips framed by a well-maintained goatee as you felt a sting of fire coursing through your whole body. You tried to keep it in, but you couldn’t hold back a groan. “I am kindly inviting you and your… Relative…” The man gestured to Nero, still completely ignoring you and the ever so worsening pains. “To join us in the old town for a talk. We have much to discuss.”
“What the fuck did you do to y/n?”
The man looked into Dante’s blue eyes – now with some sparks of red, teeth already growing into fangs – knowing quite well all their intentions would be fumbled if Dante and Nero decided to trigger right then and there.
And that was why you were an insurance.
“It’s a simple poison, found in the underworld. If the cure isn’t administered soon enough, though, your… Pet, I take it… Will perish.” The man treated you with disdain, making Dante already try to walk towards him to have his sword on the man’s throat. The human, though, lifted his hand, showing a glowing purple vial. “No human antidote can counter it, only the demonic one. This is the only sample in miles. They have only a few minutes, if I am not wrong, and the death… Oh, it is exquisitely agonizing.”
Dante’s jaw was locked. You could barely see through your blurring vision, fighting every fiber of your being to remain on your two feet – but your red devil was tense and ready to fight… Ready to kill. If he let his demon out, there wouldn’t be a soul left to tell the story of that night.
“What do you want?” His voice had a slight tinge of distortion – as you could almost sense, Dante was a word away from triggering.
“You and your kin to put down your weapons and follow us. We have prepared a very important celebration tonight and you are the guests of honor – especially you, Tony Redgrave.” You choked upon hearing that name: very few people knew that alias and, judging by Nero’s confused reaction, even fewer than you thought. “Do this, and we shall save your… Pet.”
“Call y/n ‘pet’ again, I’ll cut your tongue off, smartass.” Dante scoffed, apparently not affected by hearing his old name from the lips of a shady character in such a desolated place. “Don’t usually trust strangers in the middle of a crossroads.”
“As proof of my good faith, son of Sparda…” With those words, the man handed the vial to one of the other hooded figures – another human like him, wearing a dark robe to their feet, keeping their head down under the hood – who approached you slowly. Dante had his eyes trained on them, watching their every move. “I’m taking the first step. Lower your weapons, and my assistant shall heal your… Human.”
You couldn’t keep yourself standing anymore. With your stomach burning, you feel to your knees, barely able to see Dante in amidst the darkness and your blurry vision. Closing your eyes, your head was in such pain you thought soon blood would run down your face instead of tears. Your heart pounded on your chest quicker than when you rode the Cavaliere with your red devil and, as much as you didn’t like to admit, you came to the conclusion that was like dying felt like.
“Alright. Do your thing then.” Dante lowered his hand and his sword was gone in a small set of flames, Ebony and Ivory being abandoned on the floor.
“What…?! Dante…!” Nero was ready to fight back, to get that vial and cure you himself, but he saw the plea in his uncle’s eyes. You were outnumbered and you were dying from a poison none of you had the cure – only them. If they wanted, they could break that vial in a million pieces and leave you to die a horrifying death. “C’mon, we can…” But even Nero didn’t know what more they could do.
“Hey, Nero. Please.” Dante’s voice had no edge of playfulness or the typical easygoing tone. He was serious, defeated even. He would allow himself to be enslaved if that meant saving you – and all he was asking was for Nero to put down his weapons.
And so he did, with Blue Rose hitting the floor right after.
As soon as the assistant inserted the purple antidote into your bloodstream, others quickly approached Nero and Dante, locking heavy silver bracelets around their wrists – immediately cutting out their demonic powers. It was a first for Nero, who stumbled around and seemed like a dizzy, drunk young man. Dante, on the other hand, knew exactly how that felt like, having gone through something similar during his time at the Temen-ni-gru. Ancient demonic wisdom, infused in those bracelets to suppress demonic power and subdue powerful demons to a weaker one’s will… Or to enslave them for eternity, as it happened to Vergil once.
“Come. The night has only just begun.”
You felt your head burning as you watched them viciously knocking down Dante and Nero – something you thought you would never see in your entire lifetime. Falling to the floor of the road, you tried to get up, barely having any strength in your arms. You would drag yourself to them if you had to, but you wouldn’t give up… At least, not until your body gave out.
“What about their… Human… Master?” The assistant checked, standing right beside you but not moving a single finger to help you up.
“Leave them. A weak thing like that deserves to die like roadkill.” The man dismissed with a quick wave of his hand, ordering the others to carry the Spardas back to the old town.
Warm tears trickled down your eyes. You tried to get up, but your body was slowly giving out – the burning sensation, though, was fading away. Indeed, the antidote was working, but your body took the toll of it.
You weren’t weak. You were not. All those years, Dante kept fighting by your side, singing your praises as one of the most powerful humans he had ever met. You defeated the worst of Hell, you faced nonstop hordes alongside your red devil. A stuck-up snob like that unknown guy had no right to call you weak. You were not weak. You were not…
Your hands started giving out as you slowly tried to claw your way to their direction – but they were already long gone and the only soul left in the middle of that desolated highway was you.
But you were human. More powerful than any demon, as Dante would say. Why couldn’t you get up, then…?
Your arms gave out and you hit your face on the warm road, eyes closing in the middle of nowhere. The last thing you heart before fainting, was a blade cutting the asphalt right next to your hand – ready for you when you opened your eyes again.
*
“What are we going to do?!”
“I don’t know!”
“We can’t just leave!”
“I know!”
“What are we going to DO?!”
“I don’t KNOW!”
That was the main conversation back and forth between Kyrie and Nico as the gunsmith virtuosa drove the highway as if the devil’s herd itself was chasing them viciously, their hot breath on their necks, ready to take their souls.
Kyrie was standing right by the driver’s seat, holding for dear life on the very thing, as Nico gripped the wheel like she never did before in her life. They both screamed while the van was practically trotting on the road, bumping on every single stone on the way since Nico couldn’t care less to dodge at that point.
It was actually very impressive she never came to swallow her cigarette.
“What do you think will happen to them?!” Kyrie immediately gripped the necklace Nero gifted her in Fortuna – she saw it as a good luck charm, and would wear it anywhere. It made her feel closer to him and, whenever she was in trouble or uncertain, touching it would make her feel safe.
But never in her life it was the other way around: this time, she was worried Nero wouldn’t be safe. And that was so new.
“I dunno! I-I-I mean... Dante will…! He will, right?!” Nico stuttered back, barely able to think. If she could, she would light five or six cigarettes in a row. “I mean he… He called me Goldstein, for Hell’s sakes! He never does that! I’m as scared as you!”
“I know! They never did that!” Kyrie was about to cry – and she didn’t even know which emotion was making her feel like overflowing. “What about y/n? All of their swords are here, they took only their handguns!”
“What?!” Nico quickly glanced back only to see the three swords calmly lounging in the van. “Oh, fuck! I mean… Well, Dante… He has that big ass flamin’ sword inside ‘im, right? He can summon at any moment…! Right?!”
“I hope he can! I’m used to Nero, I don’t know how Dante’s sword works!” Kyrie rolled her eyes in pure despair, going back in the van to check on everyone’s swords. Red Queen now looked so quiet, so… Dead. It didn’t sit well with her, not like that. It had to be with Nero. He needed his sword. “Y/n knows how Dante works!”
“Oh, be damned! We’re on a hell of a fucked-up situation here, Kyrie!”
“You don’t have to tell me that twice…” Kyrie sighed, plopping down on the couch and cradling her head with both of her hands. After a few seconds of pure desperation, the woman turned her hazelnut eyes back to the Red Queen. The sword seemed like it was ready to rev-up, burning to be back in the hands of her master – like it was as annoyed as Kyrie to be away from Nero, sensing, like her, that he needed his weapon.
In the distance, Kyrie saw Rebellion trembling, as if it had the very same problem. Differently from Red Queen, though, it didn’t seem like a figment of Kyrie’s imagination: even if the van was kicking and prancing around, she could clearly see Rebellion was vibrating, as if it was ready to take flight. She remembered Nero telling her Dante could summon his sword like that: a simple call and she would fly over to his hands, no matter where he was.
“We need to go back.” The resolution settled in Kyrie’s heart as she stood up, holding the charm on the necklace she loved so much.
“What?! Have you lost your mind too?!” Nico didn’t know if she looked back to Kyrie or if she kept an eye on the road. “Those creepy dudes will kebab us in half a second if we step in that ol’ town!”
“They need their weapons, Nico! Right now, we’re the only ones that can help them get back to their owners!” Kyrie walked back to the virtuosa – again holding on for dear life on the driver’s seat. “If we don’t do that, their chance of getting away is very low! They’re depending on us to do the right thing, Nico!” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “Nero needs me. He saved me so many times, I will not fail him now.”
Nico remained silent for a while, frowning while chewing on the tip of her cigarette – the trotting of the van making her go up and down on the driver’s seat, almost hitting her head on the roof sometimes.
Kyrie was right. She knew the little angel was right. Nero hadn’t saved just Kyrie throughout the years, he had saved Nico too: she was just a crazy gunsmith with a very dubious driving style and a van to get the devil hunter around, but he was the one who would always get the job done. And when trouble came a little too close to them, Nero always made sure it would never even touch Nico. She could drive fearlessly through a horde of demons because she knew Nero would slay them all. That was something her heart always took for granted.
Now it was time to pay it back. It was time for her to risk her skin to get Nero out of trouble.
And damn well she would.
“Alright, little angel! We need a plan to save those three asses!” The resolution that resided in Kyrie now bled to Nico, making the angelic woman beam a satisfied and proud smile. “I’d say we go in guns blazin’, but we don’t have any guns – and those swords are useless for us.”
“I say we take a stealthy route. Calm down, breathe, think. Go back and give them their swords to let them do their job.” Kyrie’s voice now was a lot steadier, finally feeling a little surer of herself.
In the middle of nowhere, Nico slowed down until she stopped the van. The two women finally looked at each other.
“This gon’ be madness, you know that, right?” The virtuosa made sure Kyrie understood the seriousness of the situation they got themselves into.
“Yeah. But we’ve never really got scared of a little madness, have we?”
With an accomplice look, they giggled at each other, the tension finally seeming to dissipate a little. Leaving the driver’s seat, Nico stood up to check on the swords and think of a plan with Kyrie.
“What do ya think? They got kidnapped by that… What the hell was that, anyway?!”
“It sure looked a lot like the Order of the Sword…” Kyrie sighed, having memories of her younger days in Fortuna – making Nico remember as well. “I’d call it a cult. And I don’t know… Maybe they did get away, but…”
Nico waited for her to continue, but the words got lost in her tongue. Holding her amulet once more, Kyrie sighed before speaking.
“I don’t feel right. Something is wrong. Something’s wrong with Nero.”
“Eh… You and y/n with your weird ‘bein’-the-lover-of-a-demon’ bond thing…” Nico raised one eyebrow, pretending to have shivers. “It’s spooky sometimes. But well, if you’re sayin’ somethin’ ain’t right, I believe ya.”
Before the two women could keep going, though, Rebellion started vibrating more violently, stealing their attention. They frowned, looking at the sword as she threw a tantrum – seemingly looking like it would gain life at any moment.
“Uuuuuh… What’s goin’ on…?”
“I don’t know! You’re the gunsmith; you should know about demon swords better than me!” And even if Kyrie scolded Nico, she couldn’t take her eyes from Rebellion – after all, neither of the ladies knew what the sword was about to do.
“You’re the one datin’ a demon!”
“Nero’s weapons work a lot differently than Dante’s!”
With a loud clang, the eyes on the horned skull near the handle of Rebellion lit up in red, the sword perking up in resolve. Kyrie let out a loud screech as Nico jumped back, ready to have to tame the thing – after all, they had never seen that happening before.
In a blink, Rebellion went flying out of one of the van’s windows, crashing it like a million of stars, disappearing into the night.
Nico and Kyrie slowly looked at each other – their hearts beating furiously inside their chests.
“What the hell just happened…?”
“I think… I think that’s how Dante summons his sword…” Kyrie tried to explain in a whisper, still barely able to breathe.
“Doesn’t his sword come out of flames he summons from within’ himself, though…?” Nico couldn’t understand a single thing going on. She thought she knew how everything worked – but that Halloween was proving to be quite an adventure already.
“I don’t know…” Kyrie closed her eyes, keeping one hand over her heart. “Red Queen is very different…”
And, as if to agree with her, the sword herself revved up just a little, a few flames igniting for a couple of seconds. The two women stared at it, a little alarmed.
“And you? Not gonna say anythin’ for yourself too?” Nico pointed at your sword, not knowing what to expect.
With a little shake and a tingling sound, it seemed like your sword was telling off the gunsmith virtuosa.
Exchanging looks, the two women assessed the work they had in their hands.
Returning your sassy swords would be one hell of a ride.
*
It felt like the worst hangover of your life.
You slowly opened your eyes as pain reverberated through all the limbs on your body. Your head was pounding, every breath felt like your lungs were about to burst and your stomach apparently wouldn’t even be able to keep water down, if you had any.
As you came to your senses, you sat in the middle of the road, assessing your situation.
It was bad.
Really bad.
You were abandoned literally in the middle of nowhere. No one in sight: no town, no car, no soul, nothing. You could barely hold yourself together, let alone walk miles and miles in any direction to get anywhere. If you went to the old town to help Dante and Nero you would be more of a hinderance than anything else. If you went to the new town to get help and maybe meet Nico and Kyrie, you would probably arrive in the morning and, by then, the damage would be done already.
To say you were feeling useless was an understatement.
Looking around, though, you finally realized what was that slashing sound you heard before blacking out: Rebellion had carved the road, having come to your aid, as Dante said it would do if it felt you were in trouble – like it did to him. All you had to do was call; apparently, you did it unconsciously, seeking his help even when your mind was fading and all hope was gone.
You couldn’t help but smile – a bittersweet smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“Well, thank you for coming, old friend…” Your started talking, using all your strength to get yourself on your feet again. It took you more than you expected. “But I guess I’m not in my best shape at the moment… I’ve no idea what to do.”
With those words, you gripped the handle of the legendary sword and pulled it off the ground. At least you could still wield it, even if you were tired and defeated.
“We’re in the middle of a lost crossroads, in this godforsaken piece of desert, no way back and no way forward – also no prospects of helping Dante and Nero. Let’s face it, Rebellion. We need a miracle.” You sighed, looking at the horned skull that embellished Dante’s first sword. With that, you summoned all the strength left in your body to rest it on your shoulders as your lover would always do – taking a deep breath and beginning your way to the old town. “Standing here will serve us nothing, though. I guess we gotta make it happen.”
“One should know they can always reach out for a miracle in the crossroads, little one.”
You turned around, startled, ready to put Rebellion to use – but the only thing you found in that empty road was… Yourself.
Yourself, but not really. Something was off. That same gut feeling you had before, started to form at the base of your stomach now. It was like staring at yourself in the mirror, but the eyes… Something was wrong with the eyes – as if they were not quite yourself. Looking down, the figure who slowly approached wearing your form had two sets of shadows – while you, yourself, had only one.
“Some would call that kind of miracle a curse.” You rebuked carefully, still studying that creature’s intentions. You had heard Dante and Vergil talking of doppelgangers, but that didn’t act like one: it was too sentient, too intelligent to be one.
“Not all of them were in your shoes.” The figure smiled – it was your smile, but with a different edge that made you feel slightly uncomfortable.
Either way, the creature – whatever it was – had reason on their side. Your situation was pretty hopeless and you still had a long way to go… You had much to do. Dante and Nero needed you. Whatever those cult like people wanted, it wasn’t good. The man knew Dante’s previous alias, and that was never a good omen.
For the first time, it was your red devil who needed the saving – and you weren’t nearly in no way, shape or form to do so.
You needed whatever help anyone could offer. You needed a miracle – or a curse.
“Now if you’re thinking I’m like those foolish cultists messing with powers they think they can control, you’re wrong. Besides, I could have killed you at any point while you were unconscious at the crossroads, even without Sparda’s beloved Rebellion by your side. I’m simply a bystander that’s looking to be entertained and eager to make mischief on this moonless night.” The figure paused and chuckled. “Not even Hecate could interfere – like she could, anyways.”
“Who are you…?” You asked carefully, wary of the utter convenience and situation at hand.
“My name has been lost for the ages, but it’s not of great importance. You, however, are much more interesting; after all, you are Dante Sparda, The Legendary Demon Hunter’s beloved and prized human. Untouched by demonic blood and yet able to wield one of the most powerful blades known to demonic kind. Consider yourself lucky to have such a powerhouse of a weapon by your side. However, I’m guessing that you’re in need of something with much more firepower to get your nephew and lover back.”
“How do you–“
“Sparda may have had many enemies, but there were a few of us demons that stayed loyal to him even after he left The Underworld.” With those words, the creature mimicking your appearance bowed a bit before turning a soften gaze to the sword in your hands. “It’s lovely to see you again, Rebellion, and I’m quite fond of your new powers as well; it’s a nice touch.”
“Wait a minute, you knew Sparda and served under him?” With your question, the figure wearing your likeness nodded. “Then why can’t you stop the cult that took Dante and Nero?”
“Simple, I’m not the one they’re trying to summon. However, though, they do have something of mine that I would like back.”
“And what would that be…?” When dealing with demons, all wariness couldn’t be enough.
“Dear ol’ Beau Blackwell’s skull, of course!!” Your mirror cackled before coughing politely. “You see, one of my subordinates double crossed me and took the damn fool before he was ready, and soiled the deal I had with him. So, when I came to collect, the body was there, but the head was missing along with his soul. Come a few decades later, I find what I’m looking for, but it’s out of my reach. See, us demons expend huge amounts of resources to stay in your world. It’s not as nice as the Underworld, but it’s decent at times.”
“Huh. So, the town folks were right about him taking a deal with a devil.” You murmured to yourself, one hand resting on your waist.
“Such a smart human, after all. Besides, when you meet the devil on the crossroads, on a pitch black night, talking to your mimic with two shadows… Such a bad omen indeed for most – but to others, a risky chance to turn things around, for a high price. If you know how to make a proper deal without losing it all in the end.”
Your eyes turned to the mirror of yourself – standing calmly in front of you, a peaceful smile on your face. Their eyes were not your own, those were demonic eyes. You were dealing with a demon in the crossroads – and that could turn into something really bad. Even if they were fond of Sparda, the very nature of trickster demons such as the one copying you was uncertain.
They could very well give you what you needed to succeed – but they could ask for an unfathomable price. Usually, the highest prices were always asked when people found themselves in desperate situations such as yours.
But your body was hurting. Your feet were barely able to hold you standing. Your hands were trembling, and you were pretty sure you could only wield Rebellion because the sword herself was aiding you – as Dante would if he was there. You were not in a position to deny any aid, you knew that – and the demon right in front of you knew it as well.
“Knowing how to make a deal is of little help when someone needs a deal.” You answered carefully, still watching the calmly smiling creature. “It usually exploits the one with less power.”
“However, I think you’ll like what I’ve got to offer – and you’ve got nothing to lose, after all.” Hearing that answer, you instinctively grabbed Rebellion tighter, making your clone let out a distorted laughter in amusement. “Oh, relax. I don’t want your soul or to cross blades with you; I’d rather not have Dante put me into the ground like he did with Mundus. I simply want a favor done and, in exchange, you get a way out.”
“What’s the catch?”
“You’ve been trained so well.” The creature’s compliment came without malice. “I simply want that idiot’s skull back and, in turn, you save those two Spardas and prevent a demon from coming into this reality empowered with human sacrifices.”
“And how do I know you’ll make good on your word…?” You had one of your eyebrows raised, the deal sounding too good to be true.
Your mimic whistled loudly and a demonic horse with six legs came out of the right path’s fog. Four blazing red eyes looked over curiously, as the black strong body had strange demonic symbols on its shoulders. There was a saddle, reins and a chest plate adorned with a black feather inside a book with a claw clutching them both: the demon’s symbol, embellished on the surface. Its main was wispy like ashes from a fire, but the fire was coming from inside the creature itself.
What really caught your attention, was the sounds of snarls and soft growls, as multiple demonic coyote-dog-like creatures kept their distance – but stood at the edge of the fog, as if waiting orders.
“My horse, Slade, shall take you to the cultists so you can put the skull in his saddle bag here. Then sound the horn to signal the pack it’s time to feed. Afterwards, the pack of hounds will devour those cultists, since they are made of the souls of those they’ve slaughtered, itching for revenge. All you have to do is prove you are not terrified and step up to save the boys from a cruel fate.”
Oh, you knew what that was. You knew what you would have to become. Meeting a demon like that, in the middle of the desert, offering you their horse and pack of vengeful hell-hounds as power for you to control? You could almost hear the faint song, whistling ghostly in the distance…
Then cowboy change your ways today or with us you will ride, tryin’ to catch the devil’s herd… Across the endless skies.
With your skeptic look, your mimic smiled in amusement.
“Are you brave enough to take the reins or do you want to wander home without your lover and nephew?”
You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You were out of options. Going back meant leaving them behind and failing to save them – you couldn’t do that to Nero, to Dante. Many times Dante tapped into the worst of himself, the darkest places of his soul, to summon a power he despised to save you and have you back home – safe and sound into his arms. Many times he became a demon fiercer and more powerful than those he was fighting against, even if he loathed it.
You could do that for him too. At least once in your lifetime – maybe for the only and last time.
Sensing your resolve, Rebellion settled herself on your back as you walked forward to the demonic horse and held its reins – knowing it was time to aid you, as she had aided Dante a thousand times before. Your mirrored image watched you with a pleased smile.
“Now, take the left path; it’ll take you straight to the abandoned church where the cultists are. Get going, rider, you’ve got until dawn.” The doppelganger reminded you before plopping a black cowboy hat on your head, only for you to look up in surprise when the figure was gone.
You closed your eyes for a second as your whole body seemed to be engulfed in flames – the pain lasted for only a little while, though. When it washed off, it was as if you had never been hurt in the first place: you could breath properly again, your limbs weren’t hurting and all your strength – and more – was back into your body. Taking another step, though, you heard a ringing that wasn’t there before.
Looking down, you realized your clothes had changed: an all-black cowboy attire, covered your body, fitting it perfectly; with a heavy black coat down to your ankles keeping you warm in the chilly desert night. The cowboy boots had spurs that ringed like little silver bells every time you took a step – and, as you did it again, you realized you left a trail of fire behind, melting the asphalt with your footsteps.
That wasn’t the work of the demon who used your appearance to strike a deal with you – as you looked back into the four curious blazing eyes of the demonic horse standing in front of you, you realized it was its way of saying it also chose you to be its rider. At least for a while.
“Demons are always dramatic, aren’t they…” You shook your head, sighing as you made your way back to the horse who kindly awaited you – now looking like a rider who deserved their service.
As you looked around the crossroads, you could see the pack of hounds remained, waiting for your orders. The horse lowered itself down to let you onto its back and the pack of demons perked up in excitement. As you got into the saddle and adjusted yourself, the horse got up and the demonic pack howled to each other – as if signaling it was time to move out.
You adjusted your new hat as you nudged the horse forward onto the left path. The soft sounds of claws were in the distance as the pack followed you both.
“C’mon, Slade. It’s time to burn some asphalt.” Hitting the open road, you cracked the reins and the horse took off into a gate and then galloped once he had hit top speed – the trail of burning fire in your wake, as you did yourself with your footsteps.
In the distance behind you, the faint noise of a stampede was close by, but as you looked over your shoulder, you could only see the pack of demonic coyote creatures following at a distance.
Yipping, yowling and snarling hungrily as they followed in excitement. You looked forward, holding Slade’s rein tightly and feeling the weight of the Rebellion on your back. Those cultists, whoever they were, better be ready to fight – you were coming for them.
Yippie-yi-o, yippie-yi-yay… Ghost riders in the sky.
*
If Dante had to guess, he’d say the cultists would lock them up in the desecrated church of that derelict town, as that kind of people would usually do. To his shock, though, he woke up on an old rotten bed that, if he moved too much, would definitely fall apart with his weight. Even so, it was able to cradle the half-demon with ease, and it didn’t turn into dust as Dante sat on it’s edge, massaging his head on the spot those damn cultists hit him.
“Took some time to wake up, old man.” Nero mumbled from across the room - making Dante look at his own kin on the same situation he was. At least, Nero’s bed was made of brass.
“Eh, those cultists weren’t jokin’ ‘round. Hit my head pretty hard; gimme a break, will ya?” Dante shrugged, shaking his head and looking down to his feet.
Nero furrowed his brows. In all his life, he never thought he would see his uncle so... Defeated. After all, it was Dante they were talking about, not some random human on the street. He couldn’t shake off that feeling that it was all so... Easy.
“Ei, kid. I know what’cha thinkin’. And you’re damn right, I didn’t fight as much as I should’ve...” Dante sighed, raising his head back up again. In the dark, Nero could see his blue eyes, and they had a tinge of melancholy even with the slight smile Dante carried on his lips. “But out of everyone in the crew, I think you’re the one who can understand me the best. Imagine if it was your lil’ angel on that situation. What would you do...?”
Nero scoffed, not wanting to look into his uncle’s eyes. Bringing up Kyrie was a sure way into Nero’s heart - and bleeding heart even. He would die for her, he would kill the whole world for her, he would destroy gods and demon kings if he had to - but he would never let any harm come to Kyrie. And if the only way to save her was to put down his weapons and let himself be taken - by enemies or even death - Nero would do it without thinking and without doubt.
Yes. Out of all the crew, he could understand Dante’s action the best. It was too easy to take them, because those damn people knew quite well the very best way to enslave a Sparda was to tear their heart apart.
“Eh... Guess there wasn’t really a good way out of it, huh...?” Nero massaged his own head, shaking it right after. “But we gotta do somethin’ now. I mean, we can’t sit around and just... I don’t know, what the hell do those creeps want with us anyway...?”
Weirdly enough, Dante smiled until it turned into a good laugh. Nero furrowed his brows, staring at his uncle thinking he had finally lost his mind - the kid wouldn’t complain too much, he could perfectly understand where Dante was coming from.
“What a situation, huh? To think one year ago, it was y/n and Kyrie in the same shoes as us!” Dante shook his head, slapping his leg with a hearty laugh upon realizing it. “There’s somethin’ of poetic in this, kid!”
“Huh. There kinda is...” With that, Nero couldn’t stop himself from laughing as well. He wondered if that weird tugging in his heart was what Kyrie felt when she was locked up in that church with you last Halloween, getting ready to forcefully marry a demon. “I just hope they won’t dress us up in those ugly ass wedding clothes.”
“Oh, no, no, no. If they try, I’m tearing them apart!” Dante answered letting a louder laugh out of his chest. Nero couldn’t help but smile alongside him: it was good to see his heart coming back.
“Well, not to spoil your party, but I don’t think we can do much with those things lockin’ us up.” Nero raised both of his hands, showing off the silver shackles supressing their demonic powers. “Never felt anythin’ like this before, it’s nasty.”
“Yeah, those things are no joke...” Dante glanced down at his own wrists, slightly sighing. “But I’ve been through it before. Just gotta relearn how to fight like a human, that’s all.”
“You say that as if it was easy.”
“It kinda is, kid.” Dante shrugged, looking around the room, trying to come up with some plan to get them out of there. “It took quite a while to have my demonic powers awaken, so I remember how it feels like. I fought as a human for a long time, as long as you did. Well... As human as we get.” He winked at Nero, getting up from the bed and pacing around the room - the wooden floor creaking as his weight shifted the old boards; but never looking like it would give out. “You just gotta fight without the good ol’ demonic leverages.”
“What do ya mean it took you as long as I did?” Nero had his eyebrows furrowed, head pending to the side. They never really talked about Dante’s and Vergil’s lives before Nero met them - even if everything they had lived shaped so much of what happened to him. Either way, it wasn’t an easy subject, and both twins didn’t enjoy much reminiscing about the past: Nero had to piece up their story like a huge puzzle he was only given jigsaw pieces every now and then. “I thought you guys always knew about your heritage. I mean, it wasn’t like me who didn’t know why the hell I was different from everyone else and had a weird demonic arm.”
“You haven’t had it easy, huh, kid...?” Dante wheezed, shaking his head as he still looked around the room, trying to pick up anything on the cult or on a way out. “I knew my heritage, yes, but not what it could do. Your dad found it out as a kid, when those demons almost killed him the night our home burned to ashes. But me...? Well, it took some time. I survived, remember? I started workin’ and opened up the shop, and your dad tracked me down. Instead of bein’ happy I was alive, guess what he wanted...?”
“Power...” Nero mumbled, looking down at his newly acquired human arm - something that was still so weird to him. If he had to be honest to himself, he still kind of missed it as a demonic thing or the prosthetic one Nico built him. It was very strange having to adapt being so... Mundane.
“Bullseye.” Dante winked at him, with a humorless laugh at the end. “It was his first attempt at opening the Gates of Hell, that dumbass. Still, he kicked my ass and impaled me with Rebellion.” With those words, Nero’s eyes shot back at Dante, a little shocked with that story. “At the time, I thought he wanted to kill me, but now... I have my doubts. Your dad’s a weird guy, you know? He won’t tell you he likes you, but he will stab you with your own sword right in the chest to awake your dormant demonic power so you can accept the legacy your dad of the year left you when you were born.”
Again, Nero furrowed his brows. Perhaps it wasn’t that strange he had such a hard time around his feelings - and it was actually a very good thing he had Kyrie around to help him let them out in a healthy way. He got to learn something Dante and Vergil never had the chance to learn: the only thing both of them knew was harshness. Could Nero really ask anything more from them...?
“I was around the age you were back when we met in Fortuna, I think... So you see, I spent quite a while fighting as humanly as possible, with no leverage whatsoever.” Dante pointed at himself, finally stopping in the middle of the room. “I think Verge would have more of a problem in this situation than both of us.”
“Well... If that’s the case...” Nero spoke slowly, still processing everything Dante had told him. With time, he learned not to make much of a fuss when Dante or Vergil shared something about their history and their life with him: it made them feel like it was ok to be vulnerable if it wasn’t treated as a big thing, so Nero would keep it that way. “Then I should have more of an easy time than you.”
“That’s the spirit, kid!” Dante now rested his hands on his waist, sighing while looking around the room. “Now. We have no idea what those Eyes Wide Shut wannabes want downstairs. Windows and doors are sealed with demonic stuff to keep us in, so we’re gonna have to force our way out somehow.”
“Ok. I say we try one of the windows and sneak out. We can try to take ‘em out quietly and figure out what they want with us in the way.” Nero finally got to his feet winning a grin from Dante - who was more than ready to agree with his nephew.
“That will not be necessary, Sparda’s kin.” Both of them were interrupted by the leader of the cultists - still wearing the dark robe, but now permanently without his hood. His eyes were cold, smart and arrogant; the beard well trimmed and intricate. He carried himself with an attitude that certainly screamed he thought he was much better than any other human in town. “I didn’t bring you here to have you in the dark regarding our festivities - you are our guests of honor, after all.”
“Yeah, yeah, King Charles, cut the crap.” Nero rolled his eyes, tired of the way the man behaved. If there was something that pissed him off, that would be entitled people, completely full of themselves. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?”
“Even if you have a share of Sparda’s precious blood, boy, you are not the main guest. Know your place.” The man was clearly respecting Nero more than he respected you because of his heritage - or else, he wouldn’t even be addressing Dante’s kin.
“And you should know yours, fancy pants. Haven’t your mother ever taught you to respect people?” Dante had his hands on his hips again, but his eyes burnt like the fire he carried inside him. “Remember you have to keep us with these things so we won’t kick your ass. Give us enough of a reason, we’ll do it anyway. With or without demonic power.” He showed off the shackles to the man, noticing the human winced ever so slightly - trying to appear Dante’s words had no effect at all. “Who the hell are you? And you better answer this time ‘round.”
“You can call me by my family’s name, Blackwell. I’m Beau Blackwell’s great-grandson - and it is an honor to meet Sparda’s kin.” The man bowed his head in a sign of respect - something Dante didn’t do back and that made Nero smile. “I take it the townspeople of Silverstone did their job of telling you my family’s history.”
“If you’re talkin’ ‘bout the contract, hell yeah they did.” Dante’s eyes were now sharp, taking a guess where they were at the moment. If he could bet, he would say that was the old Blackwell mansion at the abandoned old town. “Guess stupidity runs in the family.”
“Damn, you beat me to it...!” Nero mumbled, making Dante smile proudly. At least they shared the same sense of humor - and taunts.
“I will admit my kin did play with powers much too great for his understanding and that was his downfall. He was too arrogant to realize he was biting much more than he could chew.” As Blackwell spoke, Dante and Nero just exchanged looks, having the same thing in their mind: the irony that he was criticizing the same thing they thought about him. “I, in the other hand, am more careful. I have studied the arcane and occult arts; learned how to wield them, tame them. There’s much more to ask of demonic creatures than petty, mundane things like money... There’s power. That’s what my kin failed to notice.”
“Oh, now there’s a word I never like bein’ thrown around...” Dante shook his head while mumbling to his nephew- and Nero couldn’t refrain to notice it was because of Vergil’s obsession with it for so long.
But, in all honestly, after everything he went through in Fortuna, humans seeking demonic power was never a good thing in Nero’s book either.
“Come. I will take you around the old Blackwell Mansion and you can be aware of what you will be taking part in.”
But, even with the man’s gesture and inviting demeanor, neither Dante or Nero moved a single step.
“Yeah, you see, we make a point on not taking part in things against our will.” Nero crossed his arms, making sure he wouldn’t leave without Dante. If his uncle stayed, he would stay.
Blackwell immediately frowned - not the calmest cult leader they had ever seen. Something about it reminded Nero of Sanctus.
“I am not asking you and you will be part of it - whether you make it a point or not.” The man raised his head high, as if to overcompensate for the fact he was smaller than the two devil hunters inside the room. “I have tried to be cordial and I will remain as such. I planned this night for a very long time, and neither of you will fumble it. The ritual will go on. The sacrifices will be made. The blood will be spilled. The demon king will rise. You can either take part peacefully or by force - but trust me, if you choose the second option, it will be painful.”
Dante wasn’t afraid of pain - and neither was Nero. Those words weren’t alarming per se: after all, it was to be expected of a cult that they would be made of sacrifices and blood offerings somehow, but they didn’t know if they were the only victims chosen for it.
What alarmed them the most, though, was the demon king part. There were a few of them, yes, but Dante couldn’t stop his blood from running cold as soon as he heard that.
After all, Mundus was a king. Could it be that godforsaken spiteful creature found a way to come back, so many years after Dante put it to rest? That it wasn’t for all eternity as he thought he had managed to do so...?
If Mundus decided to rear up its ugly head again, Dante wanted to be at the seat of honor to watch him rise just to tear him back into pieces and make him taste death once more.
As if noticing the sudden shift in his uncle’s heart, Nero looked back at Dante, waiting for an answer - but seeing the murderous glint in those ever easygoing eyes.
“Show us around, then. I guess gettin’ to know the stage of such a hideous play wouldn’t hurt.”
Blackwell had a peaceful smile back to his lips, finally allowing them to leave the room - but Nero could sense something was different; it seemed as if Dante could tear a demon king with his bare hands in the blink of an eye, but he was just waiting for it to rise.
*
“How can... Y/n... Ugh... Carry this thing ‘round... So easily...?!”
Nico mumbled while carrying your sword, heavily strapped on the gunsmith virtuosa’s back like a backpack. She always thought it should weight very little - after all, you always pulled the most incredible acrobatics while fighting - and you were human, just like her.
But the woman couldn’t deny: after walking around with that thing weighing on her shoulders, she started feeling a pain she wasn’t used to. Demonic metal was more efficient and lighter than any human and earthly metal, but still... It felt like she was carrying at least two guitars strapped on her back.
“Y/n is a trained hunter, they’re all used to it.” And even with that comment, Kyrie’s voice didn’t seem to struggle as much as Nico’s. She had dragged Red Queen around countless times to bring it to Nero, so dragging it once again through the desert wasn’t much news to her.
Neither to Red Queen. The sword always knew that when it was in Kyrie’s hands, she would soon find her proper wielder’s hands again to wreak havoc.
“Tell me ‘bout it... We’re all a bunch of weirdos, that’s what we... Ugh... Are!”
Kyrie had to giggle with Nico’s complaints. Yes, you were a bunch of weirdos, but that’s what made you all a family, wasn’t it? And family was always there for each other.
After they decided to take your weapons back to you, Nico drove all the way to the old town - and as soon as the ghostly, abandoned wreckage of a city appeared in their view, the gunsmith found a hidden place to park the van. Behind a few tall rocks, the Devil May Cry on wheels would be safe until that night was over - at least, they hoped it would.
Taking the swords in their hands, the two women started making their way to the old town - away from the main road, so they would have a better chance sneaking in unnoticed - and formulated the best plan they could at the moment.
“Ok. We’re almost there. So, we’re going in, and we’ll find a place to hide...” Kyrie started going over said plan, to make sure she and Nico were on the same page. Too much had already gone wrong that Halloween, they didn’t need even more problems.
“We’ll listen around to those assholes and figure out where they’re keepin’ the damsels in distress.” Nico’s answer was almost immediate, making Kyrie giggle. It was a first, imagining Nero as the damsel in distress and her saving him. “We’ll head over where they are...”
“Give them back their swords, and let them do what they do best.” Kyrie finished with a rather peaceful smile, given the situation. “Here. Let’s sneak in through here...!”
Going around the buildings, Nico and Kyrie entered what would be a dark alley between two wooden, rotten buildings in town. Going in from the back, they kept themselves low, walking side by side until they were the closest they could be of the main street. They could hear the cultists talking and patrolling the street, so they maintained utmost silence to get through them completely unnoticed.
The main street ended in a big plaza, with a large, decrepit mansion being the last building on it - and the only one with a semblance of light: not electrical, but a set of candles lit it from the inside, almost like a jack-o-lantern. The cultists roamed around the main street, but the larger number was definitely inside the mansion; after all, Kyrie and Nico could hear them chanting something they couldn’t understand.
“What do you think...?” Nico whispered to Kyrie, barely being able to hear her own self.
“They’re either in prison or... In there.” The woman answered in the same tone, pointing at the mansion at the end of the road. Nico sighed.
“I was hopin’ you wouldn’t say that... How are we gonna find ‘em in there...?!”
“I don’t know, but we have to think of a plan.”
The certainty in Kyrie’s voice was a little more reassuring - after all, they had a whole city swarming with cultists to cross and a mansion to infiltrate; all while carrying your weapons. They thought it wouldn’t be easy, but they didn’t expect that level of difficulty.
*
“Ok, I’m sayin’ it... We got a huge fuckin’ problem this time, Dante.”
Nero and Dante found themselves in a big party room, entirely lit with candles and decorated with sigils drawn with fresh blood - on the walls and on the floor. The biggest sigil, forming a closed circle, was in the middle of the room, glistening on the wooden floor. Cultists guarded the two entries and every window - big windows, that still had glasses on them.
The two devil hunters were seated on the middle of the circle, with their backs to each other, arms tied together so they wouldn’t escape.
“Beau Blackwell played with a demon he could not tame and he thought he could understand it.” Blackwell explained as they moved into the party room, revealing the ritual setting - everything one would expect on a ritual to summon a demon. “I, on the other hand, intend to do something much smarter. And that, involves... You.”
With a gesture from his hands, some of the cultists overpowered the devil hunters, guiding them to the center of the circle. Nero tried to fight, but immediately stopped as soon as he saw Dante followed the cultists calmly, almost sitting on his chair as if he was indeed a guest of honor. With his eyebrows furrowed, Nero did the same. After all, Dante must’ve known what he was doing, right?
Right...?
“Well, you’d usually need human blood to summon a demon, smart ass.” Dante’s comment was calm and cheerful, even, while he allowed the cultists to tie his hands behind his back and intertwine the ties with Nero’s.
“Oh, that will be arranged. There are many in my flock who are willing to serve such a higher purpose.” Blackwell smiled kindly, opening his arms to show around the room. “But a man with your knowledge must have noticed, this is not a common demon summoning ritual. It’s for a higher rank, a king - and one with that status would only come with a more special blood being spilled.”
“Eh. That’s why you need us, then...” Nero murmured, shaking his head. “And then what, smart ass? Gonna strike a deal of your own, too?”
“Oh, no. To summon him, I need you. To bind him, I need Dante.” Blackwell opened a wicked smile, making the room fall into complete silence as the two devil hunters didn’t say a word. “My ancestor made the mistake of gambling with a demon. I shall not make the same mistake - I will bind the demon and make it answer to my very own command. I will have all its power to myself, and there will be no one to stop my will. But to do so, I need powerful blood to do the binding - and there is no blood more powerful than Sparda’s blood.”
“Well, I’ll like to see you try that, Blackwell!” Dante started laughing, leaning back on his chair. “Stupidity really does run in the family, eh?”
“Apparently, it does.” Blackwell made a small gesture towards Dante and Nero, calling the cultists back to their places guarding the room. “The festivities will begin at 3 a.m. It’s just a small wait, but you will have the time to catch up... And say your goodbyes.”
Those were the last words Blackwell told them before leaving the room. Since then, the devil hunters had remained in silence, thinking about everything that had happened so far - and how to get out of that situation.
“Well, kid... After livin’ as much as I have, you’ll be able to say...”
“You’ve had worse, yeah, yeah, I know...” Nero laughed, shaking his head while staring at his beaten up boots. “But I mean. I’m gonna be sacrificed with a random crazy cultist to raise a demon king from Hell. You’re gonna be sacrificed to bind the demon king. Things aren’t lookin’ too good, man.”
“I just wanted to know which demon king they’re tryin’ to bring up this time.” Dante sighed, leaning back on the chair again. “But I guess there’ll be no old acquaintances today. That’s already a good thing, kid.”
“You... You were afraid that Mundus dude would be back...?” Nero’s question was almost as quiet as a whisper, barely audible for anyone who didn’t have a demonic hearing like theirs.
“Hmmm...” Dante’s answer took some time to come, even after he hummed in return. Nero rarely saw his uncle being that quiet and somber. “The world doesn’t need him rearin’ up that ugly head of his again.”
“Well... You killed him a long time ago, didn’t ya...?” This time, Dante only answered Nero with a shake of his head and a quiet hum. “I don’t think we’ve to worry ‘bout him, then, you’re pretty good at your job.”
“Huh. Thanks, kid...” Dante had a slight smile on his lips, but his words had an uncharacteristic bitterness to them. “But some demons have trouble stayin’ dead. Someone has to make sure that doesn’t happen to Mundus.”
Silence fell between them once again in the room. Nero kept looking at his boots, but his thoughts ran at a thousand miles per hour. He knew it was because of Mundus that his family was as broken as it was, that he never had a chance to have something normal. He knew it was because of that demon that Dante and Vergil had broken childhoods and carried a trauma that shaped their whole lives. But he never really understood the burden Dante decided to carry on his shoulders of ridding the world of such a horrifying demon - of making sure Mundus would never do to anyone else what he did to his family, to him.
It was a good path. A right path, some would say. But probably the most difficult one to follow: it was certainly the loneliest.
“Well, you got me with ya this time. That should account for somethin’, right?” Nero nudged Dante with his shoulder, hearing a slight laugh from his uncle.
“That does, kid. It certainly does.” With that answer, Dante sighed again, stretching his back and legs for a while. “Now, remember what I told ya? Fightin’ like a human?”
“Yeah...?”
“Good. ‘Cause that’s what we’ll be doin’ when that clock hits 3 a.m. You better get those legs stretched and ready to do some damage.”
“Fuckin’ finally. I’m tired of waitin’ here!”
They didn’t really know what they would do to get themselves out of that one - but, at least, they were together. They would figure something out.
*
“Ok... So. We have to find a way in.” Kyrie murmured over to Nico, as both women found themselves ducking behind a set of dead bushes near the mansion.
They managed to get there undetected, counting at least fifteen cultists on their way to the house. Keeping themselves on the outskirts of the plaza, they circled around in the shadows and got into the main garden through a broken piece of the iron gate.
To their relief, there weren’t many cultists around the mansion: they were either inside or outside on the town.
“Yeah. Way in. The main door isn’t an option... Right?” Nico tried a little smile to Kyrie, who just shook her head in negative. “Yeah, I thought so.”
“Hmmm... I don’t see another entrance... Maybe there’s one in the back?” The woman tried looking above the bushes without being spotted but, as if on cue, a loud, ominous bell sounded from inside the house.
The two women immediately ducked even further, almost hugging each other from being startled. The bell sounded three times and they saw one of the cultists - now without wearing the cape’s hood - appearing on the balcony of the second floor.
“My children, it is time! Join us in sacrifice and festivity!” The man had his arms opened and his voice could be heard through the whole dead town.
Kyrie and Nico scooted even further in the shadows as the cultists on the main street left their duties to get inside the mansion. They watched the wicked procession of chanting voices through the dark street, entering one by one inside the house that seemed soon would fall apart.
“That’ll give me nightmares for years!” Nico whispered to Kyrie, shaking from a quick shiver that went down from the top of her skull to the base of her spine. “Damn cults.”
“Damn cults...” Kyrie whispered back, thinking how the Order of the Sword in Fortuna wasn’t that different.
As the heavy wooden doors of the mansion closed, the two women found themselves completely alone in that godforsaken ghost town in the middle of nowhere - being the only ones with some hope to save the devil hunters that night.
“What are we gonna do?” Nico had a tinge of desperation on her voice. “That creep said sacrifices, I heard it fine! You think they’re sacrificin’ the crew?”
“Well, if that is the plan, we can’t let that happen!” Kyrie had resolve in her hazelnut eyes, looking at the house over the dead bushes. “We have to try entering through the back. If there isn’t an entry through the back...”
“We are doomed!”
“No. We try something else. C’mon, Nico, they’re counting on us!”
“I-I-I know, but I don’t count on myself...!”
Before they could continue their discussion, they heard a thunderous noise in the distance - as if coming from the skies. Furrowing their brows, they searched everywhere, but there was nothing; not even a semblance of storm over their heads.
“You’re hearin’ that, right...? Right...?”
“Yeah...”
As soon as Kyrie answered, a vicious galloping came in with the wind. As they stared back on the main street, the figure of a fiery horse running with all might with a black rider on its saddle appeared like lightning, approaching at an inhuman speed.
“You’re... Seein’ that...”
“Yes. Yes.” Kyrie shook her head enthusiastically - probably with the same enthusiasm she wanted to ran away.
Before the two women could think of running, though, the horse reached the plaza - and they could finally see the face of the rider as the horse ran around the perimeter of the place; the rider cracking a fiery whip to draw the attention of the cult.
“Is that... Y/n?! But... We... They... Those assholes didn’t take everyone?!” Nico stumbled over her words, as both of them watched you in awe... And horror.
“Apparently not!” Kyrie’s heart danced inside her chest as the man who previously summoned everyone to the ‘festivities’ ran to the porch once again, having a few members of the cult join him - the others took glimpses of the plaza from inside the mansion, through the half broken windows.
You circled the plaza one last time, heading right to the iron gate - now open, which you saw almost as an invitation. You could feel the unease in the air, as Slade slowed its steps and entered the garden, coming to a stop without even your command.
Looking up, you finally saw Blackwell’s face for the second time that night. Now, he had his eyebrows up in shock, recognizing your face under the cowboy hat. In such a short time frame, you could say you had one hell of a makeover.
“Either you let me in willingly, or I’ll force myself in.” You stated loud and clear, having your hand ready on the hunting horn on the saddle horn. “You’ve got one chance to cooperate.”
“Bold words coming from just a pitiful human.” Blackwell’s response was almost spat on your face, with a small laugh that made his cultists giggle alongside him. “It’ll take more than just a few... Party tricks... To stop the ritual.”
“Oh, I got much more than some party tricks, smart ass.” You laughed as an answer, taking the horn out of its place on the saddle. “You’re not the only one striking deals with the devil on these parts. I think you will all enjoy meeting the souls you sent to the afterlife.”
You blew the horn loudly, allowing a ghostly sound to take over the air, as the demonic horse rose up on its back legs neighing loudly in a distorted tone with the demon pack howling in response - the mix of sounds making it seem like a cube of ice was running slowly down your spine.
When the horse landed, the pack took form from the darkness, making Kyrie and Nico scoot away trying not to get in those creature’s path. Blackwell’s eyes grew in terror, even if the man tried to remain arrogant and not show any kind of emotion - the pack raced forward hungrily with gnashing and snarling sounds as they opened their mouths with sharp fangs, ready to tear through the cultists flesh like butter.
“It’s the hard way for you all, then.” You pointed to the house, raising your voice once more. “Take what they owe from you!”
With that command and an intense howling, the pack destroyed the front door - and you could hear the symphony of roars and screams as some of the cultists tried to run away and others tried to fight.
“No! No! I will not be defeated by the likes of you!” Blackwell screamed from the porch, taking one of his followers and slicing their throat without a second thought, leaving the body on the ground as soon as he collected the blood. “Fight those creatures or sacrifice yourselves to their will! The ritual will go on and the main room is to be protected at all costs! That’s an order!”
The remaining cultists obeyed without questioning, willing to give their lives for that bizarre cult ran by Blackwell. You shook your head, watching as they entered in a rush, and still hearing the mayhem going on inside.
“Are you girls alright?” You finally broke the badass pose to look to your side, checking in on Kyrie and Nico. Both women were hugging each other, ready to scream and run, but now they just stared at you in awe.
“Damn, y/n, what the hell?! You almost killed me! My heart cannot take somethin’ like... Like.. A flamin’ demon horse?! How?!” Nico let go of Kyrie to wave her hands around in despair as they approached you - you, in the other hand, smiled back while caressing Slade’s head.
The horse was quite sweet for a demonic horse, if you had to say something.
“What happened? You were all fine when we left, I mean, you were all together...!” Kyrie tried to explain and you could see where she was coming from. “What’s with the deal you mentioned...?”
“Look, it’s quite a long story. But I had to borrow some powers - and help...” You pointed to the house as some growling and yelling was still happening, making Nico visibly shiver as you did so. “To save our damsels in distress for the day. Also have another kind of help.” And this time, you pointed to Rebellion strapped on your back.
“Oh, so that’s where she went!” And Nico could say she was relieved to see the sword with you. They would have a lot of explaining to do if they had lost Dante’s sword.
“We’re here to bring your weapons too...!” Kyrie took Red Queen out of hiding, since they had put the swords down for a moment while discussing their next steps. “We were just trying to figure out a way to...”
Before she could finish speaking, though, a loud noise came from inside the house and the windows started glowing with a flash of red for a while before going back to normal. The floor rumbled for a couple of seconds underneath your feet right after, and then everything went silent - even inside the house.
“The pack did their job, it’s time for me to do mine.” You took the reins back into your hands. “C’mon, Slade! Time to teach those assholes a lesson!”
“Let’s go...!”
“Let’s go where? Are you insane? We’re pretty ok here, outside, waitin’, while the hunters do their thing in there...!”
“Nico.” Kyrie rested both of her hands on the woman’s shoulders as you led Slade up the front porch stairs of the mansion and inside the house - taking everything in your path and leaving fiery steps behind. “They need their weapons. They need us. No time to back up now. Let’s go!”
“Everyone here’s insane...!” Nico rolled her eyes and, if it wasn’t such a dangerous moment, she would be lighting up another cigarette.
You rode through the dead cultists, ripped apart by the pack you summoned earlier - now gone, probably to finally have their rest. Following the chanting noise, you found a set of heavy wooden doors, locked from the other side and being well guarded. With your fiery whip, you took care of the guards in a blink; and with Slade’s hooves, the door was soon broken into pieces on the ground, with you riding inside the room and interrupting the ritual.
“Sorry the late, love. I got a little... Caught up.” You winked as soon as you found Dante’s sky-blue eyes fixated on you in pure amazement. He watched as you rode inside the room, whipping away any cultists who tried to get in your way. Your objective was to save Dante and Nero, and you had nothing but their safety in your mind.
“That flamin’ horse is pretty cool! Where did you get somethin’ like that?” And to say Nero was excited about it was an understatement: he looked like a child who just saw the coolest thing on earth and wanted that to himself as well - enough even to ignore the gash he had on his hand, dripping blood on the wooden floor.
Not a huge blood offering as they were expecting - but Blackwell didn’t want to waste too much of Nero’s precious blood on the summoning. After all, if Dante wasn’t enough for the binding ritual, he would use Nero as well.
“From a demon, no doubt.” Dante answered instead as you finally left the saddle and your feet hit the floor of the house - leaving fiery steps as you approached him. “Hope you didn’t do anythin’ too rash, babe.”
As you reached Dante, you could see the worry in his sky-blue eyes. He knew that kind of power, for a human like you, came only with a deal - and, usually, it never ended well for the human. Either way, what choice did you have that night, really? Not many, and you would do whatever you had to in order to save your lover. Dante knew that - and he would never want to be the reason of your downfall.
That’s why the first thing you did was to place your lips on his, on a slightly longer kiss. You hoped that would reassure him; that it would make Dante know you would make that decision over and over again if it meant he and Nero would be alright that night. You could think about your deal and your soul later, as long as they were safe.
Also, being Dante, he could easily take the increase in your body temperature after the deal.
“I did what I had to.” You answered as soon as you left his lips, smiling fondly even if you could see how melancholic his eyes looked. “Now, let’s get you both out of here. We have a cult to dismantle.”
“We’re experts on that!” Nero was already bubbling inside to fight, almost as if something told him Red Queen was nearby.
“It doesn’t matter what you all do!” Blackwell reappeared from a door on the second floor, holding a black box with silver carvings. “The gates have already been opened! The king will rise and with a few more spells, the binding will be done! Give up!”
“Why do all power hungry asshats always speak like that, huh...?” You shook your head, going back to freeing Dante and Nero: turns out, untying them was quite easy; the problem was the power suppressing shackles around their wrists.
“Eh, you know, babe... If they can’t sound like cheesy villains, then what’s the fun in that?” Dante shrugged, making you giggle in response. As you untied his feet, he finally got up, being followed by Nero as soon as you freed him.
Before any of you could do anything else, the floor rumbled once more and the red sigils in blood started glowing with a light you only saw in very well succeeded rituals. Indeed, the gate was opening, and the demon they summoned was about to come to earth - unless you did something about it.
“Hey, cowboy, can you take care of the cultists and their smart ass leader?”
“Sure thing, ghost rider. But dont’cha think you’re gonna have all the fun by yourself.” With that answer, Dante kissed you quickly before heading over to Blackwell. “C’mon kid. We got work to do!”
“About time!” Nero ran after Dante, even if he himself wasn’t sure what you would do with the ever trembling floor.
“Slade!” As soon as you called, the horse galloped over to you, having you back on its saddle in no time. You circled around the room, watching as the seal between dimensions opened and a metallic looking demon started poking its ugly head through it. Holding Rebellion’s grip tightly, you took it from the holster on your back, as you watched the creature who stepped into your dimension - black eyes oh so interested to finally be out of the demon world. “It’s time to work, Rebellion.”
“Ah... The Human world, at last...” The demon was almost as tall as the mansion itself, wearing a black metallic armor that you couldn’t tell if it was its clothing or its actual skin. It had a humanoid head, but the lips didn’t move as it spoke - almost as if it was wearing a mask made of marble; crowned with a thousand dark metallic spikes. Its black eyes, though, seemed to harbor infinite void; while its clawed hands dripped a viscous black liquid, pooling around its feet. The demon king looked around with no expression on its masked face, but soon those empty eyes found you: a rider on a fiery horse, carrying one of the legendary swords made with the fire of Hell itself. A human rider, wielding such power. “And already a hunter as a warm welcome.”
“To send you back home where you belong to.” You answered, raising your head with pride. “Can’t let you stay here for too long, your putrid highness.”
“A hunter with such power in their hands. This shall be interesting...” The demon king hummed, summoning two blades on each of his hands; forming from the dark liquid that dripped down from his claws. “Very well, hunter. I shall indulge you.”
You had no more words to say, for now it was time to fight. Charging in, you led Slade right in the direction of the demon king, circling around the creature to try to land a hit with Rebellion. In spite of his size, though, the demon was fast and you had to dodge a heavy attack from one of his swords - that buried on the floor, cracking the rotten wooden panels. You seized this opportunity to land a hit on his arm with the Rebellion - soon realizing the skin of the creature was, indeed, made of metal.
It would need a lot more strategy and power to land a blow that had an actual impact on that kind of demon - in all your life as a devil hunter, you had never seen nor fought against anything like it.
Meanwhile, Blackwell pointed his followers to take on Dante and Nero - who were running up stairs to deal with the man who was already setting up the second part of the ritual in a makeshift altar across the room.
The hunters just exchanged looks and a knowing smile before sucker punching their way up - even throwing some of the cultists down the stairs. If they had to fight like humans, they would... And they were actually very good at it.
“What the...!” Kyrie and Nico said in unison as soon as both reached the doors you brought down when you barged in the room - finding that mess of a scene: Dante and Nero running up stairs and you fighting a demonic king with Rebellion in hand. In a matter of fact, their shock came mostly from seeing a demon king for the first time in their lives. Other than Vergil, actually.
“Don’t t-t-tell me you wanna... Go i-i-in there.” Nico’s stuttering suddenly got worse, wincing as soon as one of the kings swords tried to bring you down - and you expertly held it back with Rebellion, keeping your balance on your horse.
It was actually quite impressive to watch.
“I... Don’t. We can... Wait.” Kyrie’s answer was almost a whisper, with both of them agreeing to hide behind something until the opportune moment to give the swords back to their respective owners.
“Blackwell! Time to end this party!” Dante announced as soon as he got to the top of the stairs, making the man jump in place.
There was a skull in the middle of the altar, sided by candles and behind a brass bowl - where he would probably collect Dante’s blood. Blackwell had already cut his hand and offered his own blood, chanting incantations written in an old book he had opened on the corner of the altar.
“It’s too late now, Dante. You should accept...”
“Man, you talk too much...!” Nero finally lost his patience. Before Dante could say anything, his nephew ran with all his might, drop kicking Blackwell on the floor. Dante couldn’t refrain from shaking his head.
“You never change, do ya, kid...?” He had his hands on his hips, watching as Nero kept Blackwell immobile.
The cracking sound of your whip drew everyone’s attention to the fight at hand. Looking down, Dante found you with the fiery whip on your hand, keeping the demon king at bay. Your foe immediately raised one of its huge swords to take you down in a swift sweep, but with a flick of your wrist, you wrapped the blade with the whip, cracking it with the sound of a thousand raging bonfires. Dante couldn’t help but raise his brows and watch you with amazement and admiration.
Indeed, you were a human to tame his demonic heart. There you were, mounting a demon horse, Rebellion on one hand and a whip made of the fires of Hell itself on the other, holding down the sword of nothing but a demon king in place. You didn’t back down nor felt fear - instead, you wrapped the whip even tighter around your own arm, making it shorter and forcing the demon king’s sword down. You knew it wouldn’t burn you, for you were the one wielding it. Keeping your gaze on those eyes made of oblivion, you commanded the whip to burn hotter and hotter... Until the very blade in the demonic king’s hand started to melt, pouring on the floor like molten mercury.
“Fuckin’ hell, y/n...!” Dante let out as soon as surprise hit his heart, watching it all while keeping his hands rested on the balustrade of the second floor. His mind couldn’t even think of that clown Blackwell behind him when he had you being such an incredible hunter downstairs, taming a demon king like he never saw any other devil hunter doing.
He was the only one he knew who ever conquered a king in his book - and there you were, proving the world why you were the owner of his heart.
“Rare are the fights worth fighting...” The demonic king’s voice echoed through the house, as the creature gained back his posture upon realizing one of his weapons were gone. “I can see why Rebellion stands with you. What is your name, hunter?”
“Y/n. Rebellion stands with me because I gained her owner’s trust.” Your answer came with your head held high, while you untangled your whip from your arm. As expected, there was no harm done to you nor your clothing.
“I reckon you gained more than his trust. It will be an honor bringing you down, y/n.”
“I wouldn’t be that concerned with y/n if I were you, ugly face.” Dante finally entered the conversation. He did like the fact that you owned the respect of a demon king, but he did not like it that the creature was now even more interested in killing you. His phrase, though, made both of you turn your attention to him on the second floor. “I mean, I know, my sheriff is givin’ ya a run for your money and, sooner rather than later, you’ll be back down in Hell in no time.” He had a smart smile on his lips, sprinkled with pride, which made you smile in return. It was good to see how much faith Dante had in you. “But we’re all forgettin’ the big elephant in the room: the smart ass who summoned you and has all the intentions on binding you to serve ‘im.”
“Huh. Son of Sparda. I did feel your stench when I arrived - I just concluded it was tied to the sword.” The demonic king raised his head up to Dante, now pointing his sword towards him. “But your words ring truth. You were not the ones who summoned me - and now you tell me a mortal thought itself to be powerful enough to try to bind me into servitude...?”
Oh, you could all feel the anger running on the king’s bloodstream - if he even had one.
“Oh, yes. Not even a honorable human like y/n, huh?” Dante winked back at you, making you giggle. You weren’t really scared of the demon king behind you - your lover had done one hell of a good job of drawing his attention from you and the fight at hand. “More of a...”
“Coward little shit hidden upstairs so you wouldn’t find ‘im!” Nero dragged Blackwell by the collar of his robe as the man stumbled to stand by Dante’s side - clearly trying to run. “And tryna complete the bindin’ ritual, will you look at that!”
“A cowardly move indeed, petty creature...” The demonic king’s voice echoed through the floor, trembling the boards underneath you all. “Weaklings like you should learn your place and which souls are bound to eternal servitude.”
With that phrase, the portal between dimensions opened once more, making you guide Slade away from it so you wouldn’t fall into the demonic world. The king pointed at Blackwell, making some of the black, viscous liquid dripping from its claws go up the man’s arms and neck, slowly reaching his eyes. Blackwell screamed in horror and pain as the liquid filled his eye sockets, turning into infinite voids completely out of a soul as soon as it was done. Nero let go of the man’s arm, watching him go down the stairs like a mindless puppet, walking obediently to the edge of the opened gate, staring into the demonic world as if he had no choice.
“You shall regret your hubris, petty creature.” With those words from the king, Blackwell willingly threw himself into the abyss, forever lost in servitude to the demonic king he thought he would be able to control.
It was the perfect moment. You couldn’t allow a demon king to stay, and he knew that very well. With a quick movement and a loud crack, your whip tangled itself around the demon king’s metallic arm. The expressionless face turned to you, staring into your eyes with that gaze devoided of soul. You held the look, once again wrapping the whip around your arm tightly, cracking Slade’s reins so the horse would walk backwards - helping you pull the demonic king with you.
You had every intention of pulling him down the opened gate, locking it right after he was gone.
It was a matter of strength and will. You kept pulling, and the demonic king kept anchoring his feet on the floor of the house. Dante and Nero watched it all from the second floor with their mouths slightly opened and hearts pounding viciously in their chests. Nico and Kyrie had their eyebrows furrowed, barely believing what their eyes were seeing. The hardwood floor started to crack underneath the king’s feet, but your eyes wouldn’t leave that soulless gaze. You wrapped the whip once again around your arm, making it even shorter, yanking the creature towards you - making him try to anchor himself down even harder.
Using the same command in your heart before, the fires on the whip got hotter and hotter, burning even brighter and making everyone in the room start to sweat - except for you and the king. The creature stumbled a little when you noticed the whip started to melt into its metallic arm - slowly, but surely, melting it... Destroying it.
If the demonic king wasn’t going back to his rightful place, he was going down. The way you stared into his black eyes made him know that.
“Y/n. I shall remember your name.” The demonic king’s voice reverberated through the room again, as he slowly glided towards the opened gate.
“You better. Next time you try to come up, you should know I’ll be here to take you back down.” Your answer was certain, causing a low laugh to echo through the room in return.
“It will be an honor. Hunter.”
Those were the last words you would hear from the demonic king. He finally let go and you yanked the fiery whip, dragging the creature down the same abyss Blackwell had thrown himself into. With the whip free, you had it back on its place on the saddle in a flourish, watching the gate slowly close up - too slowly, in a matter of fact: some demons had noticed it was open and saw an opportunity to come out and cause mayhem.
“Ei, y/n!” You heard Dante calling, as he ran downstairs alongside Nero. “Use the Rebellion! It’ll speed things up!”
Doing as he said, you killed a few demons who tried to come out - and, as you stroke one of them down where it belonged, you noticed the portal closed faster and faster, until there was only the tip of the Rebellion left buried on the very ordinary hardwood floor.
No demons. No gates. No kings. The mansion fell in silence - and the town had its ghostly quietness back to it. With the last stand from Rebellion, it was over.
Dante finally met you in the middle of the party room, watching you with a proud smile on his lips. He had defeated Mundus once, yes, but you had just put a demonic king back where it belonged without any help from him. That was quite a feat you could brag about as much as you wanted now - even if he knew you wouldn’t do it. He knew you paid the price for the power to do so, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t worth it.
“Guess you saved my ass this time, ghost rider.”
“I believe ‘thanks’ are in order, cowboy.” You answered casually, approaching with Slade walking lazily towards your red devil.
“Oh, you deserve more than thanks tonight, sweetheart.” And the looks in Dante’s eyes made you immediately giggle - while Nero rolled his eyes.
“Ah, stop that you too. There are children in the room...” He shook his head while both you and your lover stared at him with eyebrows raised, ready to question him. Nero just casually looked back at you. “It’s me. I’m children.”
“Ya know... I’m quittin’ this job.”
You three finally looked back at the door only to find Nico and Kyrie walking towards you - safe to say, Nero immediately smiled and ran to meet his love halfway.
“The materials are good, but damn...!” Nico rolled her eyes, completely ignoring Nero holding Kyrie tightly in his arms, kissing the top of her head while she giggled. “You’re all crazy...! Crazy!”
“What can I say? It runs in the family.” Dante shrugged, making Nero laugh from their now inside joke. He turned to you as soon as your feet hit the floor by his side. “You too, babe. You’re family as well.”
“Good to know you think I’m crazy too.” With your answer, he laughed a little bit out loud before having his lips covered by yours - now burning like fire.
“Phew - gonna take a while to get used to that, babe. Is it permanent...?” You could see the care in Dante’s eyes as he pushed some of your hair away from your face - your cowboy hat still immaculate on top of your head. It was clear he didn’t want any kind of thing that transformed you to something more than human to be permanent, but he would accept it anyway: after all, it was you; and everything you did that day was to save him. Dante never really had that.
“Not really. I just have to keep my part of the bargain and it’s gone.” You played with his hair for a while, making Dante have a goofy smile on his lips - only for you. “Which is a shame, really. I liked having you around, Slade.”
The horse approached you, bumping your shoulder with its fiery nose - making you caress its demonic head. All in all, it was a good mount and you grew strangely fond to it.
“And what’s your part of the bargain, babe?”
“Beau Blackwell’s skull. I’ve to find it and give it back to the demon who first made the contract with him.”
“Ya know, the other Blackwell had a skull on the altar upstairs. It’s probably the one ya need, y/n.” Nero considered, still having Kyrie in his arms. There was no force on earth that would make him let her go before sunrise.
“Huh. The demon who made the deal with Beau made a deal with you too, then...?” Dante decided to follow you upstairs as you started making your way towards it.
“Yeah, pretty convenient, I know...” You sighed in return, now used to the fiery steps you left behind you. “But hey, I needed a way to get ourselves out of this one. Demon at the crossroads was my only way out.”
“Yeah, and what a way out. You make one hell of a sexy ghost rider, babe.” Dante teased and, as soon as you got to the top of the stairs, you turned around to let him see you in all your ghost rider glory.
“Right? I’m gonna miss it, I feel quite the badass!” You laughed in return as he whistled upon watching you.
“You’re always a badass, sheriff, you don’t need all that.” There was that unapologetic sincerity in his eyes as Dante spoke, making you know he actually meant it. In all your life hunting by his side, you never felt like you were missing something for being completely human.
“Thank you, cowboy.” You winked back at him, locating the skull inside the black box with silver sigils. Taking it in your hands, now you just had to keep it in the proper place on Slade’s saddle and let it take it back to the creature who gave you those powers for that night. “Though the fiery whip was pretty cool, huh?”
“That it was.” Dante laughed alongside you, stopping for a while before going back downstairs. “Thanks for the rescue, y/n.”
“No worries, Dante. I’ll always be here for you.” You smiled back at him, using your free hand to gently caress his face. “For better or for worse.”
“Usually for worse.” He completed with a slightly bitter laugh, making you shake your head.
“That depends on your point of view, love. To me, it’s always better.”
You left another quick fiery kiss on his lips before heading back downstairs - and, as you concluded your business with Slade and Nico kept arguing with Nero, who kept glued like a koala on Kyrie, Dante couldn’t stop himself from smiling upon thinking about your words.
You were always the better on his life.
*
“To whom it may concern,
Business in Silverstone is back on its tracks. Folks are regaining confidence and tourists are back in town. Things have been flourishing like never before: with the rumors of the latest ‘demonic rituals’, occultists and supernatural enthusiasts are flocking around to visit the old town. Some young folk in the city have even made a ‘Supernatural Silverstone Horror Tour’, or some stupid young people thing like that.
It’s been a hit, though. Not only the young ones, but some old people are coming to take the tour. The old town has never seen so much interest before - and the old Blackwell mansion is now a haunted spot, or something. Haunted house? Dunno. These people like making things up. Not complaining! The hotel is packed every weekend, and there’s plenty of money going around to help us rebuild from the chaos those pesky demons set around on Halloween.
Things are going steady and good around Silverstone - and we all have you people at the Devil May Cry to be thankful to. Whenever you want to visit, accommodation, food and whatever else you need is on the town. You all will always be welcome here.
Oh, the young ones said if you ever want to take the horror tour or whatever, they’ll be more than happy to have you around. It would be an honor, they said. Maybe you could come and show those kids what a proper scare is like, huh?
Well, that’s it for now. I thought you would like to know how things are going - and that you have made friends here in Silverstone. Once again, in the name of the whole town, thank you.
Buck Carson.
Ps: Frances and I have been seeing each other for a while and she agreed to moving in with me in the Hotel. Thank you for your help, y/n.”
“They’re moving in together! Mission accomplished!” You had Buck’s letter in your hand, having just read it out loud, and now you were in the middle of a very weird - and happy - celebration dance in the middle of the Devil May Cry; Dante watched you with his arms crossed, legs on the table and a huge smile on his lips, as always.
“You’ve been playin’ quite the long game to complete that mission, babe!” He laughed alongside you, watching your bare feet happily dancing over the shop’s floor - no fiery footsteps to follow you anymore; your deal was done. “Who would’ve known? You’re a Cupid too!”
“Oh, I’m a good shot, cowboy.” You pointed at him with finger guns, as if you were aiming for his heart. “I could make a wreck with a Cupid’s bow!”
“Oh, there would be no one left standin’! Ouch!” He took his hands over his heart, pretending he was shot as soon as you hit him with your finger guns. “You already took my heart with ya, sheriff!”
“And you took mine with you, cowboy.” You walked over to his desk, leaving the letter on a safe spot and sitting by the edge as you and the ladies always did whenever you were talking at the Devil May Cry. “Who knows, maybe if I make a deal again next year, I’ll get the powers of Cupid for a little while.”
“Ha! Now that I’d like to see!” Dante let out a good laugh, watching intently as you settled in front of him. “But we did get some nice things out of this one this year...”
“Yeah, the whole town is thankful to us, we could go there someday as a vacation.” You considered while Dante agreed, shaking his head. “That’s nice, for a change.”
“Yeah, a first one for me too...” He took his legs off the table, having his feet on the ground again, leaning closer to you. “And you got yourself your first devil weapon, pretty eyes.”
“Oh, my fire whip. I’m so glad.” You closed your eyes, having a huge smile spreading across your lips. Dante quickly glanced over his shoulder, seeing the whip was still sitting peacefully alongside his own devil weapons on a wall display, precisely where you both left them. “All demon kings better beware.”
“I can bet you’re already a legend in Hell, hot stuff. You’re earning your name.” He nodded towards you in a gesture of respect. You could barely think of yourself becoming a legend and making a name for yourself in Hell - but you had to admit it would be more than nice to be known for your abilities.
“But you know, I really like being known as the human who has earned your love.” You looked back at your red devil intently, leaning down on the desk towards him. “That is more important to me than any kind of power I could’ve earned.”
“And that is somethin’ you’ll always have, y/n.” With those words, Dante quickly pulled you into his lap, you both making his chair shift heavily on the floor and make quite the noise - while your laughs ringed with it. “’Cause you know, there’s a reason why Rebellion followed you.”
“Hmmm... I thought it was because I called you somehow before fainting.” You furrowed your brows, pending your head to the side while watching his kind eyes.
“You can call it too, babe, but that’s not what happened that night.” As Dante started talking, he took one of your hands in his, drawing random patterns in it as he spoke. “You see, my swords answer to my soul. And my soul, was worried about you that night. As soon as Rebellion sensed you were in danger...”
“It found me. But how...?”
“’Cause I’d find you anywhere, babe. No matter the place, no matter the circumstance.” His answer was certain; his sky-blue eyes going back to meet yours. “I’d find you anywhere.”
“I’ll always find you too, Dante...” With that, you took his silvery hair away from his eyes, in order to place a gentle, slow kiss on his lips. There was no job to do, no world to save, no gates to close - you could take your time and savor each other. “And save you from whatever demonic kings that decide to step in the way as well.”
“Oh, I’ll always count on that, sheriff!” Dante held you tight against him, placing another long kiss on your lips, making you giggle as he did so. “And I think you said some ‘thanks’ are in order...!”
“But you already... Dante!” Before you could finish speaking, he lifted you up on his arms, leaving his desk to take you upstairs.
“Job’s done and we’re in due for some lovin’. No refunds!” As he spoke, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at Dante’s antics.
After all, by now, you knew every Halloween would have a new adventure in store for you - and you also knew that after every storm, some celebration was to be had.
And celebrating with your red devil would never be enough; after all, loving with all the might of their human heart also ran in the family.
#devil may cry#devil may cry imagine#dmc#dmc imagine#dante x reader#dante imagine#devil may cry fanfiction#dmc fanfiction#dmc dante#dante sparda#devil may halloween#AND HEREBY I GIVE YOU ALL A BOOK TO READ#I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY#hahahaha I'm not being aggressive I really hope you're happy#'cause I really enjoyed writing this one xD#cowboys and ghost riders and wild west creepy tales and devils at the crossroads OH MY#I got a little lost on research on this one too 'cause DAMN#the cowboy wild west folklore is AMAZING#my mom is a big BIG fan of all things wild west so I was a little too happy writing this one xD#and wanted you all to feel like badasses saving the Spardas from a demon king#just you wait for Vergil's damsel in distress one too <3
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Whumptober 2024 - Day 30 - Prompt: Recovery
Rated: G | Words: 527
“Hunter?” Omega stands in the doorway of his room, her familiar shadow silhouetted in the darkness.
He wasn’t asleep. He can’t sleep. All of this feels strange, surreal. Clones don’t have houses with rooms and beds. This was never how it was meant to be, even if it’s been what Hunter’s always wanted. His family, safe and protected. This is their new reality, their new normal.
But his room is so quiet and lonely. It makes him feel pathetic and small to lie awake for that reason, and even worse that he is relieved that Omega disrupted it - because she wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong.
“I’m awake, kid,” he tells her, sitting up on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Omega admits, creeping into the room and perching on the edge of his bed.
Hunter hums, sitting up the rest of the way. “That makes two of us.”
Omega releases an exasperated huff. “Haha,” she deadpans.
Hunter chuckles, then moves over and pats the spot next to him. Omega immediately climbs up, tucking herself under his arm. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks her.
“Yeah,” Omega says, fingers nervously twining together. “I feel fine. And I should be fine…it’s just…are houses always so quiet?”
“I think so,” Hunter says, as though he hasn’t been wondering the same thing all night.
“Do you like it?” Omega asks.
Hunter rests his chin on her head. “Not really.”
“Me neither.”
“But we’ll get used to it. It will become normal.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll record Wrecker snoring for you, and you can play it all night long.”
Omega giggles. “I guess Crosshair doesn’t have to worry about it being too quiet.”
“We better not tell him how good we have it.”
Omega shifts against him, turning to look at the empty bed on the other side of the room. “When Echo comes to visit, you won’t be alone. That’ll be nice.”
“That’s true.”
“How often do you think he’ll come?”
“I don’t know.” Hunter looks at the empty bed. “But I don’t think he’d mind if you used it while he’s gone, until we get used to the quiet.”
Omega sits up. “Really?” and she sounds so hopeful that Hunter’s heart aches. She was all alone on Kamino and on Tantiss…he should have known that even safe in their own little home, being alone would be a hard adjustment for her.
For all of them.
Alone had meant being lost and away from each other for so long.
“Go get your blankets and pillow,” Hunter tells her, nudging her off his bed.
Omega hurries out of the room. When she returns a moment later, her arms are laden with her blankets and pillow, Lula and Trooper peeking out of the folds of fabric.
Hunter smiles as she proceeds to make a little nest on Echo’s bed, arranging everything the way she had it in her little gunner’s mount room, Lula and Trooper keeping vigil.
She may have grown and matured in the months she was away, but she’s still their little girl.
Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!
Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @merkitty49 @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump @skellymom
#whumptober2024#no.30#recovery#Star Wars: the bad batch#fic#emotional whump#soft whump#soft hunter#tbb hunter#tbb omega#post season 3
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Can you do one about Anya, like the Daisuke and Curly posts, please?🙏 They're very good!
Of course sweetheart!!
Anya Mouthwashing headcannons
Trigger warnings!! Miscarriage, Jimmy, obviously if you know the game I'm making subtle hints towards rape, etc etc. read with caution.
Romantic
Pre-crash Anya:
Anya is a very sweet girl honestly
She's not very big on affection - the occasional hug and kiss here and there but she's not very big on touch. Quality time is more her style
All she really needs is to sit next to you quietly, as long as you're there, she feels safe
Especially after what happened with Jimmy. She hates to be alone.
But at the same time she wants to distance herself more
And she hates it
Any time you go in for a hug, she'll flinch
It was any day in space, cold and bland like oatmeal left out on the table. But it felt better almost immediately after you saw her.. the love of your life, Anya. You smile like the sun and walk over, arms wide but.. you watch as she suddenly stops and stares at you. As if you had done something wrong.. her breathing even starts to get faster and she quickly brushes you off and leaves. Leaving you worried and confused.
You can try and try to ask her what's wrong but she isn't sure how you'd react
What if you thought she had cheated on you with her assaulter? She knew many people reacted like that sometimes
She loves you and trusts you, but she needs distance
Much to your dismay, she just suddenly keeps away from everyone one day. Even you.
You long for her little rambles about psychology and medicines
Her quiet humming as you two sit together
It hurts.
Post-crash Anya:
You knew how stressed she was
I mean, how couldn't she be? Everything has gone to shit. Their captain was mutilated on all ends.
And she seemed more afraid than ever.
She started to slowly warm back up to you, but still wouldn't tell you any explanation
No matter how much you begged or pleaded for one
But her time around you seemed different
She was more affectionate than ever before
It was almost like it was a goodbye
She'd always do small things like nudge your hand with hers and give you a weak smile every morning
Almost as if it was a silent goodbye in case she didn't make it through the day
And you finally understood why.
Platonic
Pre-crash Anya:
I imagine you two would be a bit more goofy
If she's not busy, you're just goofing around and making funny faces to make her giggle
You two probably talk about psychology a lot together and your hopes for your futures when you return home
Sometimes she'll let the occasional demented comment slip, but you never paid it much mind
She told you what happened and you were livid
But what could you do about it?? It's not like you could
You had no position of power over Jimmy, the one man who did didn't have enough of a spine to do anything to his friend
All you could do was comfort her
But she slowly but surely drifted further and further away from you, from everybody
And every day you could see her eyes more and more empty
You had noticed her feeling more and more nauseous, cramping more
She was paler
But you assumed it was due to the pregnancy. However you quickly discovered that she took enough painkillers to cause a miscarriage
You supported her and tried to comfort her
But she didn't let you
She wanted to be alone
Post-crash Anya:
After the crash, with responsibilities crashing down on her
She was tired. And you could tell
Her body barely had enough time to recover from her miscarriage before she started to take care of their captain
She was slowly killing herself at this rate
And you couldn't be any more correct.
She just got worse and worse
You swore sometimes you could see her eyes were dead but her body just barely moving
She didn't seem to care anymore
It broke your heart to find her with pills surrounding her.
Atleast your heart wouldn't stay broken for long
Thank you for requesting!!
#im so sorry I got carried away with angst#hhhh#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#mouthwashing headcanon#mouthwashing horror game#mouthwashing headcannon#anya mouthwashing#mouthwashing anya#anya x reader#mouthwashing anya x reader#anya deserved so much more#anya deserved better
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day 4: HALLOWEEEEEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
originally, this was just going to be cami and gold wearing matching customes of a witch and her black cat (got changed to gray because otherwise you wouldn’t see the marks) BUT it snowballed into an au. so if you’re interested in the random lore i made up (+explanations of the drawings), it’s under the cut
okay lets begin with explaining the drawings. so, about the two drawings with the red background: gold has the ability to change to cat form or humanoid form as he desires. he usually stays in cat form out of personal preference (+witches aren’t supposed to have humanoid familiars, i mean its not technically prohibited but it is an extremely weird thing to do) BUT he involuntarily switches to humanoid form while asleep, because it’s his “original” one. he likes falling asleep in cat form though (because he’s stupid) so he can end up in awkward positions.
about the drawing on the left with the purple background: in this world, witches are seen as both dangerous and helpful to people. they can help you with magic, but for a price, and if u don’t pay, you can get your ass cursed, or worse, they are said to also wreck havoc out of rage. because of this, there are certain people who see them as menaces to society and hunt them down: witch hunters! so, witches live in isolation and have a “territory” they oversee to make sure no hunters get near them, and they’re pretty protective of them. i imagine the drawing is what cami and gold would look like before Destroying a hunter. gold usually stays in his cat form though, as he doesn’t really fight unless cami needs the backup. he also can’t do magic (besides his own physical transformation), so he’s just a physical fighter, hence the claws.
about the little gray doodle, it’s just gold thinking about cami. since they’re together all the time in their territory, when they Have to separate to do their own thing, gold misses cami a lot and won’t stop thinking about her. he’s a kitty cat with separation anxiety
the other two drawings were just to figure out their designs and gold’s cat form design
okay lore time. so, gold used to be fully human, but his dad made a deal with a witch and failed to pay his part. as punishment, his firstborn was cursed to become a beast. gold didn’t know the reason why he turned into a beast out of nowhere. he didn’t have a good relationship with his family, and then his dad saw him and wanted to hide him from everyone, and everything became too much, so he ran away while in cat form. aaandd he stumbled into a coven composed of a witch and her pupils, one of which was cami. cami and him got along very well and her professor told her he could be her familiar. gold decides “hey, i have literally nothing better and these people are nice to me while they think i'm a cat so yea sure”. but alas, when he falls asleep he turns back into his humanoid form, and cami is the only one who saw it. gold explained what happened and cami figured out he must’ve been cursed somehow, after some research she figured the exact curse that was put upon him. when gold learned it was all his dad’s fault he was LIVID, and the only way to revert the curse was to complete the deal his dad made. they figured that if they are able to find the witch who cursed him and repay them themselves, they could convince her to lift the curse. thing is, they couldn’t, for the love of god, figure out who it was. with time, gold kinda got used to the curse, so they started working less and less on figuring out how to lift the curse until they kinda just… stopped.
i don’t have a lot on cami, she was a very cold and isolated kid, she didn’t have any friends and her family was Not… Good… she was always interested in magic, so when she had the opportunity, she joined the aforementioned witch coven. it's pretty common for witches to take in girls as pupils, creating the rumor of them “stealing and eating kids”. in reality, they are not kidnapping anyone, they are almost like a refuge for weird little girls. also, when gold and cami met they were like 12, in the present they would be in their early twenties, so they’ve been together for quite some time. and also yes they’re dating. what can you expect from me.
fun fact: fred and freddy are here! freddy believes fred is the product of some sort of curse, and he goes to cami to try and strike a deal to get rid of fred. cami is sure fred isn’t a curse, so he must be some sort of bound soul, but isn’t sure if fred is a ghost, an angel, or a demon. so now freddy and cami are trying to figure out What The Hell is this guy. fred is not happy at all OBVIOUSLY, he doesn’t want to disappear. i don’t have a whole lot more on them than that (not even i know what the hell fred is lol), but i like the idea of cami sending freddy off to get her some stuff for a ritual they’ll do, while she herself goes get a different item that is way more dangerous to get, and she tasks gold to help freddy so he doesn’t die (and thus doesn’t fulfill his part of the deal (unsure what the deal will be)). gold is NOT happy. he generally hates anyone who isn’t cami, and now he has to be with this guy 24/7 without cami there, while she’s off in a dangerous mission, and he just has to be worried sick about her until they see each other again. he’s not having a good time, he’s very cranky. he does warm up to fred and freddy eventually. when they have to sleep, gold wouldn’t even sleep during the first nights. he would just stare at freddy from the other side of the room because he didn’t trust him enough to fall asleep. then he gets more comfortable (and tired) and starts falling asleep in a couch or just a blanket on the floor. when they become friends, gold would start sleeping at his feet (remember, he falls asleep in cat form, although he turns humanoid while asleep, so sometimes he’d fall asleep before freddy and just look extremely silly all curled up at the end of the bed in humanoid form). also yes freddy eventually realizes he doesn’t want to get rid of fred and they make up.
also golden is here too! him and gold are twins, but gold is the older one, so only he got cursed. when gold disappeared, their father told golden that an evil witch kidnapped gold, and they weren’t able to find him. so golden became a witch hunter LMAO. in freddy’s voyage to get the ritual items, he meets golden and stays at his mansion for some time and its Very Awkward. freddy actually starts believing that maybe cami is Actually Evil and kidnapped and cursed gold. but no, and gold does tell him, when he feels like it, because he’s a cat and he does things only when he wants to. gold will tell golden eventually, well, rather than “tell” he’ll turn into humanoid form so golden sees him and goes “holy shit that’s my brother” and THEN tell him what happened. idk when or how but i’m cooking, maybe. i also want golden and cami to meet because i think it would be funny, golden would definitely hate her at first. cami would just look at him and be like “wow you look like gold but less cute. have u tried using bells?” (she gave gold those bells cuz she thinks they look cute) 😭
i want to add the rest of the characters too, at least the animatronics and villains, sooo maybe ill post more about this au? idk
i think that’s all the rambling i have LOL happy halloween i guess? does this count as halloween themed? halloween themed au? if you’ve read all of this thank you. i love you. i hope you have a great day and fhs week
#fnafhs#fhs#mine#camold#fhs week 2024#i went crazy with this a little bit#also yes the aesthetic i asked for was about this when i was cooking it and drawing it
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It's a known fact that Danneel is a trashy bitch with zero shame. My question is how jensen tolerated being married to this woman all of these years without losing his mind? I can't even listen to her dumb ass talking with her squeaky voice even for few minutes without turning the volume down. She's superficial insecure mean girl with zero substance. I not going to talk about her appearance but all what I'm going to say is her look started to reflect personality, simply, awful and creepy.
That's the million dollar question, right?
The reasons for it may be many:
1- He's up to his neck with financial obligations, and for better or worse, feels he needs to keep up with the family man image to get work;
2 - He does it for his kids;
3 - He is afraid she will turn his life into a living hell after divorce;
4 - (And the one I would put my money on) He found a way to not deal with her with zero backlash. He is probably just married on paper at this point and lives his merry life away from her, engaging with who he wants and living life the way he wants. We barely see them together these days.
5 - (And im including this for the sake of fairness, and so you laugh a little) According to delulu AAs, they are in love and are just very private. Except, they forget their Queen is anything but private, and the reason she hasnt been very visible the last year is due to damage control. She can't say a smart thing to save her life, and at this point, showing herself more can only do her damage.
Especially because she will have to show herself more without her husband by her side. 'Cause, honey, he aint there.
Thanks for the ask!
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Backstory theory for Sukuna? I wanted to say Kenjaku and Tengen too but let's just stick with Sukuna for the sake of your sanity
(Written as of JJK 262 using TCB scans and raws. Click images for captions/citations. I want to see how poorly or well this ages.)
I already kind of went into how I think Sukuna’s birth occured answering this ask, and we know for a fact he was born as an unwanted little wretch. But that's not really a full backstory. I was a conjoined twin truther before the reveal so I'm definitely deranged confident enough to propose something.
What is Sukuna's deal anyways?
When I say Sukuna and Gojo are twin flames, I'm referring to how their internal logic and their narrative framing are very similar. For this reason, I believe how they respond to trauma is also similar.
Much of early JJK is a different reread knowing Gojo's specific trauma. His use of the childish Boku as his personal pronoun, his obsession with sweets, having Infinity on all the time, his avoidant attachment style, and his fierce desire to ensure teens enjoy their youth...all these little trauma-induced quirks hidden in plain sight, sometimes as humor, are now depressing reminders of what Gojo went through. You also start to see how paranoid he is about another Toji incident with how he treats Miguel and Hanami...
Sukuna's backstory has probably been set up in the exact same way. It's likely that most of Sukuna's actions and attitude are influenced by some unrevealed/hinted at trauma. Since he and Gojo are twin flames, I'll try to piece it together using Gojo as the blueprint.
Sukuna's Way of Speaking
In the same way Gojo's manner of speaking is unusual for his age, Sukuna speaks really weird even compared to other incarnated sorcerers. If you're not aware, Japanese pronouns do not carry gender, but they do indicate how the speaker views themself and the person they're talking to. (This wiki summary table is quite helpful for this sort of thing.)
Sukuna's personal pronoun is 俺 (Ore) which is very informal, rough, and masculine. And he uses お前 (Omae) as the you pronoun for others which is either a casual thing amongst peers or indicates the speaker's higher status. (It's probably the later given how arrogant Sukuna is.) These are also the same pronouns Yuji uses for himself and others. But because of his personality, we can infer that Yuji uses Ore because he's a sporty boy from the countryside and Omae because he's friendly and views everyone as equals. Same pronouns, but completely different characterizations that get lost in translation.
Sukuna also uses 貴様 (Kisama) as the you pronoun for Gojo. Historically, this was a formal way to show respect and then it evolved into an ironic hostile insult sort of thing, much more rude than Omae. Since Sukuna is 1,000 years old, uses Omae for Yuji, who he hates, we can reasonably assume him using Kisama for Gojo is the formal version. (This would be another very funny instance of Gojo thinking Sukuna hates him but he’s actually trying to be nice.)
All of Sukuna's pronoun usage combined with his personality suggests a very tough and rude individual, which he is. However that rough speaking style is exactly why his frequent use of flowery language, double entendre, clever wordplay, art references, and puns is bizarre.
The weird way in which Sukuna uses words is most known by how he speaks to Megumi during their fight at the detention center. (I'm paraphrasing all this person's translation work for this.)
Sukuna uses the phrase "misetemiro" which is commonly translated as "show me/show me what you’ve got". The caveat here is that the "mi" of "misetemiro" can be written as 見 or 魅. When using 見, translating as "show me" is most accurate. When using 魅? The better translation is "bewitch me/enchant me/charm me/fascinate me".
Sukuna, of course, uses 魅, which means he's saying "enchant me" when he uses "misetemiro". It should be noted that this exact phrasing is used for Mahoraga before it cuts off Gojo's arm. (This is apparently what what Sukuna finds to be enchanting. Violence against Gojo Satoru.)
The thing is, Megumi heard Sukuna say "misetemiro", so he likely assumed the common meaning "show me". This is either a case unintentional misunderstanding or Sukuna making his true feelings dubious. That in of itself is the best example of the double-meaning wordplay Sukuna gets up to.
Sukuna seems to be really fond of puns in particular (very old man of him). He calls Yuji 小僧 (kozō) which can be translated as brat, but it also means young/novice monk.
He also uses extremely outdated words. (An example of which was provided by this user.)
You have all of these conflicting speaking mannerisms balled up into one character. It's as if a gangster/ruffian majored in Literature Arts. And that’s precisely why I think he was of low status at birth.
Sukuna's Upbringing
We all know Gojo's Limitless Cursed Technique (CT) is a literal and metaphorical barrier between him and other people. His technique is his isolation. And how it developed informs us directly of how his interpersonal relationships changed with it.
Back when Gojo only had Blue and Infinity had to be manual, it meant that he had downtimes where he was vulnerable. That physical vulnerability doubled as emotional vulnerability and Gojo was able to form a close relationship with Geto and befriend Shoko. After he awakened, Infinity could be on nonstop. Gojo became untouchable to everyone at all times and it destroyed his relationships.
In the same way Gojo's CT compliments his changes from child to adult, I believe Sukuna's CT does the same.
As we all know by now, Sukuna's Shrine or 御厨子 (mizushi) could be referring to a Buddhist shrine used for storage or a imperial palace kitchen. I think it’s both at the same time. To me Sukuna's CT indicates he initially cooked for the emperor and then became an object of worship at a shrine. But I have some additional caveats to this theory.
We know that Sukuna learns by mimicking others. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say he picked up on formalities while being near nobility if he was of low birth. But how did a lowborn like Sukuna get near nobility in the first place?
So historical Japan had a social caste system called Ritsuryō (you can read more about its application in the Heian Era here). The upper class was called Ryōmin (good citizens) and the lower class was called Senmin (low citizens). Amongst the lower class there are the following subcastes:
Ryōko (dedicated to the imperial family or guards of imperial tombs)
Kanko (dedicated to public ministries)
Kenin (servants of high-ranking families)
Kunuhi (slaves of the court)
Shinuhi (slaves of families)
I think Sukuna was a Kunuhi or court slave during his time as an imperial cook. That would give him access to the higher art forms directly or by listening in while also explaining why his speech appears to be a mesh of two completely different backgrounds. (If he were of noble birth, his personal pronoun would likely be Watashi, Waga, or even Ware-Ware like most snobby upper class characters in Japanese media.)
Another trait of the slave class is their forbiddance from having a registered family name. Both Sukuna and Uraume use full names as a show of respect. The fact they only use single names for each other suggests that they have no family names at all and fall under this low class category.
The other thing to note about this caste system is that class mobility in both directions was possible. To what extent I'm not sure (there’s not a lot of in depth literature in English), but this would allow for Sukuna to rise from a lowborn status and fall back to it as the Disgraced One.
In summary:
Sukuna is born and branded an undesirable. (Some of his tattoos match up with markings for both criminals and outcasts. Particularly the single band around the wrist labeled Hinin, a term that translates to non-human used for the lowest social class.)
Sukuna is taken into slavery where his talents start to show. (Durable, 4 limbs, and quick learning make for great labor exploitation.)
Sukuna, as a slave, eventually finds himself working in the kitchen for the emperor where he meets Uraume, who is there under similar circumstances. (Heian nobles were fascinated by commoner life and sometimes took peasants into the palace for entertainment/exploitation. Please read this entire thread on Heian commoner life it’s very good.)
They rise through the ranks together because of hypercompetence.
Eventually Sukuna becomes so strong that he becomes an involuntary saint/warrior monk. (Heian nobles mobilized monks for rituals and maintaining power.)
The court nobles start a smear campaign out of fear of his power and lowly upbringing, which causes Sukuna to have his Joker moment and start eating people. (Based on the mythological Sukuna stories.)
Sukuna's Theoretical Coping Mechanisms
After Gojo endured the fallout from Toji and Geto, he developed coping mechanisms to deal with it. They're all quite unhealthy to be frank—Gojo is very stuck in the past and seems to be in a near-constant state of trying to relive it, but better.
Those traits were all initially introduced as gags. It all made Gojo appear like a very strange, childish, and questionable adult. In retrospect it's all tragic. So with that in mind, I want to examine some of Sukuna's traits that could be a manifestation of past trauma.
It goes without saying that being a slave is traumatic. And the coping mechanisms developed to deal with that level of dehumanization don't go away if someone escapes it.
Sukuna's extreme aversion to being told what to do and self-centeredness reminds me of the ex-slave character, Izutsumi from Dungeon Meshi. She starts out as a slave paraded around as a circus freak after being experimented on before she's sold to a wealthy clan and forced to be a retainer. A curse is placed on her to keep her from escaping in the form of a tattoo around her neck. When she finally frees herself, she is very cat-like in her selfishness, poorly socialized, and abrasive. (Also she is canonically aroace!)
If you noticed, her personality sounds like a description of Sukuna's, so I'm left thinking he has some variation of that backstory (kind of like a combination of Toji and Geto's). It would fit with him being an unwanted child, explain his bizarre manner of speech, and give him a pretty good reason to be the way that he is.
In the same way Gojo used Hanami to relive his trauma but control the outcome, I think Sukuna uses Binding Vows relive and conquer his enslavement. The vows he constantly makes and breaks with himself are a show of control over thing that hurt him.
When binding vows are first introduced, it's by Sukuna and with chains. In the anime the chains constrict Sukuna until they destroy him.
This imagery is rather oppressive in nature. Similar to a prisoner's chains or a slave's chains. (And it's quite common for prisoners to be used for slave labor too.)
I've previously discussed how I view Kenjaku as someone who exists through nonconsent and causes others to relive their trauma. Gojo's sealing illustrates how this kind of manipulation works. And since Gojo's twin flame is Sukuna, I believe Kenjaku did something similar to him.
We've already established how much Sukuna hates taking orders from people and how much he wants to fight Gojo. Everything he has done for the past 6 months was for Gojo. And guess who stops him from obtaining what he desires? Kenjaku through a binding vow.
Sukuna also calls Yuji an 檻 (ori) which can be translated as cage. The type of "cage" ori can refer to is either one for animals or for criminals. Kenjaku pretty much created Yuji to contain Sukuna in this manner.
So we have 2 forms of restriction encroach on Sukuna's boundaries in a way that would be reminiscent of slavery. If Sukuna and Uraume are former slaves, their treatment of Kenjaku and each other makes sense.
With Uraume, Sukuna is gentle and reassuring. He faces towards them when speaking and will initiate conversations, going out of his way to praise their work. This seems a bit out of character given how harshly Sukuna treats others, even those he respects.
Uraume is constantly apologizing to Sukuna in a way that suggests in the past they were punished severely for the slightest mess up. Given their relationship and how little Sukuna cares when they're not perfect, I don't think Sukuna was the one to make Uraume feel this way. If they're ex-slaves, this constant groveling would read as trauma response, and Sukuna's reassurance would be him showing consideration for someone who went through something similar.
With Kenjaku, Sukuna never makes eye contact, often has his back turned, and only responds when spoken to. Uraume is constantly pissed at Kenjaku's presence and tries to keep the two separate as much as possible.
Whatever binding vow Kenjaku has wrapped Sukuna in is clearly upsetting to the both of them. I imagine those were the tools used to subjugate people within the Jujutsu hierarchy. Wait I don't need speculate on that point, Yuta already did this for me when he was forced to execute Yuji via a binding vow with the higher ups.
And you know who else might have suffered the exact same way? Uro.
And boy is Uro strikingly similar to Sukuna, enough for Yuta to notice. She had no name, was groomed into being a weapon by nobles, discarded after being used, and is now someone who toys with sorcerers as she tries to become her own person while scorning bonds/love.
And if you recall, Sukuna obliterated the Fujiwara Subjugation Clan and Uro isn't really mad at him for that.
Not just Uro, but Ryu is similar to Sukuna as well in his hunger and seeing others as meals to satisfy him.
These parallels seem deliberate and may hint of how Sukuna was treated in the past and what his true motivations are. Uro seeing the incarnation as a chance at a second life as her own person is probably how Sukuna feels. But you know. Both of them are beholden to Kenjaku so that “freedom” came with a steep price.
What separates Uro and Ryu from Sukuna is that they acknowledge exactly why they're here. They reflect on their old lives and take action to address their problems. Sukuna seems to be in some kind of state of denial.
I have no doubt Sukuna is serious when his ideals don't go beyond himself. What's troubling is how unaware of why he feels this way. He won't even acknowledge his hunger for an equal which is obvious to everyone else. He also doesn't seem to know why he incarnated, dodging Kashimo’s question on it entirely. It reminds me of Gojo, who despite being blatantly motivated by Geto and Toji, never shows it except in fleeting instances. And those instances are either internal or deliberately vague to whoever is hearing it.
I think this is because acknowledging he experienced weakness at one point in his life is admitting that he can be put in a position like that again. That can be a scary thing to confront. Gojo doesn't deal with the fact he can be made vulnerable and does everything in his power to prevent it while pretending nothing is wrong. Sukuna is doing the same thing when speaks of the past as briefly as possible and crushes anyone who might have power over him.
Uro herself kind of puts that motivating trauma in the back of her mind until Yuta's Fujiwara heritage and ideas trigger her. Not wanting to recall your life as a nameless slave and having it incidentally brought up by the phrase "live for others" kind of sounds like the beef Sukuna has with Yuji.
And imagine if Uro was trapped in Yuta’s body, where this lucky individual, born free, decides to become a Cog of his own volition. She would probably never stop hating him. (I think Sukuna is mad Yuji chose the life he escaped.)
This would also fit well with his initial view of heriarchies. As long as he's the strongest, he doesn't have to worry about becoming a slave again.
And in a way, this is also him showing concern for Gojo. You’re this strong and letting these fudgers push you around? Kill them.
I also think that's why this Yuji quote is going to age poorly.
I don't think Sukuna ever had the chance to live normally. This would also make this exchange really interesting.
Sukuna suggesting he has suffered more than Yuji fascinates me. Of all the things that could possibly be worse than what Yuji went through, I think existing as a slave and being subject to discrimination since childhood would make for a pretty compelling case.
Rejecting Love as Cope
I’ve been on about how Sukuna hates on love as a cope in other posts. I think the former slave angle gives a little more weight to this idea, his poor social skills, and general aversion to other people.
Love is a type of tethering to another person. Sometimes it results in marriage, a legal contract that binds you to another with a myriad of social expectations. If Sukuna is a former slave, his aversion to that sort of thing is only natural. Relationships of anykind are a bond that comes with restrictions.
I keep bringing up Yorozu because analyzing the ways in which she upsets Sukuna is useful for understanding him. Sukuna is most dead-eyed when marriage comes up and he sees losing as the same thing as death. The common problem here is Yorozu’s desire to control Sukuna’s life.
If you know anything about ex-slaves, it’s that they would rather die than go back to that.
Sukuna being the strongest means that no one can ever hold that kind of power over him again. And like Gojo, he believes human connections and love are a point of weakness that need to be discarded to obtain absolute strength. If Gojo is using that excuse to run away from others, Sukuna is using it too.
Despite rejecting all forms of love for the sake of self-preservation, Sukuna expresses cravings for it in very roundabout ways. Usually with how he mocks it.
Another puntastic bit of foreshadowing with Sukuna and Yuji’s binding vow, Enchain also doubles as a discussion about love.
Here's a link to the full poem and context of it.
In summary, it’s about a soldier who is on the brink of death, having lost nearly everything after being abandoned by those in power, lamenting the happiest days of his life with his love are ones he can never get back. (Kind of sounds like how Sukuna ruins Yuji’s life.)
Sukuna canonically reads literature about love and he will use that knowledge to torment people. That’s pretty interesting for someone who hates it. There’s also the underlying theme of exploitation and discardment in this poem that reflects how Jujutsu Society treats sorcerers. And in both cases, the strength to survive and love can’t be had.
Sukuna calls Kashimo greedy for wanting both. But much much earlier Sukuna warns Yuji that there are consequences for being greedy.
I really wonder why he believes that.
Jujutsu Society and Labor Exploitation
The other interesting thing about Izutsumi is how aimless she is after learning the modifications to her body are irreversible despite obtaining freedom. She simply doesn’t know what to do with this. And that makes sense. Grand ambitions take a backseat when all you know is surviving. Her development involves slowly learning how build relationships with others that aren’t exploitative and coping with the permanent changes to her body. And it only comes about because the people she finds herself with are other social weirdos who give her the space and time to change.
That’s what seems to be the problem with Sukuna. He doesn’t have a space within sorcerer or non-sorcerer society where he’ll be accepted and won’t be exploited. But I don’t need to tell you that, Nanami will.
He’s miserable as a sorcerer or not. Might as well pick the one he is good at.
Later he recounts exactly what made him come back.
And if you noticed, his listlessness after escaping Jujutsu and “I always thought that having a 'purpose in life' had nothing to do with me” is very similar to Sukuna’s boredom and “I'd never though about it. ...Ideals. Desires that go beyond oneself”.
It’s weird that Nanami and Sukuna have similar realizations about their place in society while arriving at completely different ways to deal with it. I think that’s intentional.
From an interview with Gege:
"If there was one thing worth mentioning, it's that no one has the ultimate truth. The “good guys” and the “bad guys”. Some seek to kill the hero out of pure selfishness, but others are led to this decision by logical reasoning. If no one is really right, then no one is wrong either. Each character is guided by their own ethics."
I've interpreted this quote as the author telling me to consider the characters as having similar motivations, but completely different methodologies and logic driving their actions. With that in mind, I have concluded the following:
Every single character that’s kind of insane has recognized the same problem. Japanese work culture sucks. It grinds you to dust, leaves you with no freetime, and even corrodes your identity under the guise of collectivism. “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” is the go-to Japanese proverb to justify conformity to this suffering. Uro calls it out exactly.
Toji and Maki are beaten into place, used as scapegoats, and isolated by their families for being born wrong and staining the Zenin reputation by existing. Toji decided the solution was killing sorcerers and leaving Jujutsu society. Maki decided the solution was killing her family (she did nothing wrong) and building a better Jujutsu society with allies.
Geto, Nanami, and Gojo all broke from overwork that isolated them and never allowed them to grieve. Geto decided the solution was killing non-sorcerers and leaving Jujutsu society. Nanami decided the solution was leaving Jujutsu society and doing non-sorcerer work. Gojo decided the solution was reforming Jujutsu society and eventually killing the higher ups (based).
So despite all these different solutions, some of which are indefensible, I understand exactly why they became that way. They’re dealing with labor exploitations and dehumanization without the theoretical framework to be productive about it. (Gojo is the closest person to discovering what a union is.)
Geto snapped from a single traumatic event coupled with the knowledge that his labor would be exploited until he joined the mountain of sorcerers’ corpses. Though he was introduced as a mass murdering lunatic, there were always hints of how badly he wanted sorcerers to be free of exploitation. (Karl Marx could’ve saved him.)
Sukuna experiencing the most egregious form of labor exploitation, slavery would fit into these themes nicely I think. It's the ultimate form of dehumanization—becoming a literal commodity for people to sell, trade, and break. (And him deciding to be this wild about it would be understandable to me at least because I truly believe in the John Brown solution for slaveowners.)
Sukuna is fond of Megumi, Maki, Gojo, and Jogo. Megumi was sold by his father to a clan, the Zenins tried to make Maki subservient for being female, Gojo was bossed around and run ragged by the higher ups, and Jogo was puppetted around by Kenjaku. All of these characters are powerful individuals that for one reason or another were shafted by societal constraints that had them exploited by others weaker than them. Since Sukuna likes people similar to him, it's not a stretch to assume he’s recognizing their hurt as his own.
And just like Geto, instead of abolishing the hierarchy that subjugated him, Sukuna has chosen to sit atop it to escape. But unlike Geto, Sukuna doesn't dream of a world where he enforces it. (The guy clearly hates having responsibilities and doesn't want to be a ruler. He just wants to do what he wants whenever he wants. You know, having freedom.)
Sukuna existed within a society where it was acceptable to own people if you were strong enough. The fact he treats Uraume, a voluntary servant, so well and refuses to keep slaves speaks volumes. Sukuna may live for himself but he clearly has some form of ethics about it.
Wait, what about Megumi’s subjugation?
Well, sometimes people are hypocrites. Nanami, Mr. Would’ve Loved Unions and outspoken labor critic, is content with pushing all the work onto Gojo, who has suffered in the exact same way he has.
Maybe it’s resentment for his Gojo’s birth making curses stronger and therefore harder to deal with. Maybe he sees Gojo as everything wrong with Jujutsu and is lashing out. The point is, I don’t know why Nanami made the exception to his rules for Gojo and that’s why I’m clueless on where Megumi fits into this theory.
I’m not sure if Sukuna intends to keep Megumi as a puppet forever. For the sake of his own entertainment, he’ll probably release him after ingesting his final finger if Yuji can’t separate them first. And in a very twisted way, his treatment of Megumi could also be seen as a cruel training regiment. Sukuna thinks suffering and isolation brings strength. That’s how he’s justifying whatever happened to him.
But on the other hand, maybe he won’t. Because now Megumi has the blueprint for surpassing him. Defeat means being a slave again and Sukuna can’t have that.
#cactus yaps#I’m so excited to see how off I’ll be.#Sukuna was definitely exploited in the past. I’ll stake a toenail on it.#It seems that exploitation scales with power so whatever the fudge happened to Sukuna is worse than everyone else combined.#If I’m picking up on themes correctly then slavery will come up again.#Which not a lot of people picked up on Uro being a slave. The poor girl had no name and was used as a living weapon.#I think it’s because chattel slavery is more common in media.#When you get to the ‘‘less violent’’ kinds of slavery it can start looking like a sucky exploitative job.#And capitalism doesn’t want workers to make that connection because then they might demand better.#My other favorite ex-slave character is Isaac from Netflix Castlevania.#There's something so cathartic about watching him destroy the society that enslaved him. My fave quote from him is:#''You know… One day the last one of you will ask me; ‘Why did you work with Dracula himself to murder all the people?’#And you know what I’ll say? It’s because you’re all so fucking rude.''#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#jjk spoilers#asks
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I'm so peeved that literally every aspect of the Gerudo in BOTW/TOTK serves to make me mad bc I love the Gerudo desert and I think that some of the most interesting NPCs to speak to are Gerudo.........alas
#august.chr#trying my damndest to piece together a BOTW/TOTK timeline bc I dont believe for an instant that the divine beasts are 10k years old#and i'm scraping my brain trying to think if any cutscenes from pre-calamity mention the ban on voe in the city#bc i'm trying to justify an in-universe reason why the gerudo would implement such a policy#given you know. they're a trading city. and banning men. means banning half of all possible trade partners.#my best guess is that the gerudo were always somewhat isolationist but were much more lenient#until the calamity hit and the gerudo faced serious damages from ganon's destruction and vah naboris causing sandstorms for a while#in the turmoil the gerudo banned visitation but after enough years it became obvious that this was destroying the city's economy#so they opened the gates back up but only to women. because the gerudos' need to find men to sustain their population in combination with#the new Inaccessability of gerudo women invited a rather predatory type of crowd. so this discriminatory gate system was an attempt to cull#this behavior. but it only made it worse because it just cemented gerudo women in the cultural perception as hard to get and Foreign#<-(aka Interesting skeevy edition)#so to the gerudo opening the gates means the not unlikely possibility of inviting harassment from scummy guys but not opening the gate will#never allow this terrible dynamic to heal. and instead of trying to forge a healthier relationship with dating for gerudo women#the gerudo have leaned into this gender seperationist ideal. as seen with mattison and the whole culture of removing young gerudo girls from#their fathers and the kingdom of hyrule at large in favor of staying in gerudo town#anyways sorry i hate the gerudo's worldbuilding but i actively hate the fan approaches to make it Woke Gender Essentialism more#it's literally not better if you go 'well the gerudo would let trans women into town if they just claimed to be women' like.#no they wouldn't. they let link into town in the gerudo vai fit because he passes as a woman in the outfit. if he changes clothes in town he#stops passing and they kick him out.#gerudo town is literally TERF city it's a city where a society of women have isolated themselves and banned men from interacting and will#only allow women they subjectively deem to be Womanly Enough to enter their gates#and teach young gerudo girls that men are dangerous and that they have to grow up in gerudo town until they come of age. like it's literally#a law that gerudo diaspora have to move to gerudo town before puberty#anyways sorry this is like the third time in the past 2 years i've drafted a post about how i think the gerudo's worldbuilding#is both illogical and abusive to the gerudo growing up in it. but illogical and abusive does not make for unrealistic worldbuilding either#so i want to find a way to work within its confines while also complaining loudly about it the entire time
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:(
#i literally feel VIOLENTLY ill at the fact the hospital handled my mum’s passing so badly that her funeral is exactly ONE MONTH after it#i’ll forever be furious and angry and hurt and traumatised by the way they handled it#like A MONTH#it should not be happening this long after#and it’s her birthday on sunday so maybe i’m just feeling ten times worse because of that#but it’s not fair#it’s never gonna be fair#why the FUCK did she get taken from me like this#and then having to be the only one who knew about her funeral plans bc she only told me#and then everybody including my dad tells me how strong i am#IM NOT STRONG!!?!!?!??!?#i’m a girl who needs her mama. i’m just a girl who is so lost and confused and needs her mama#i literally want 2 die#tw death#i turned my tv off and immediately started crying bc i felt like the worst person in the world#did i not love her enough#should i have been better to get#*her#idk i just want her to know i adored her#and i need to hear her voice and get a hug#one of the last things she said to me was ‘i love you more’ well i love you most so how about that#tw grief#i am never getting over losing her#please . feel free to let me rant i just feel like i can’t talk to my dad or family bc like idk .#i always talked to my mum about my emotions and well! that can’t happen anymore lmfao 😭#i just need a place to vent the HELL out of my feelings bc i am not going back to therapy
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About to hand weave this man a potion carrying pouch in his character colors. I was already thinking about it. And then was like no. It's too early. I'll just give him a bit of the yarn my pouch is woven out of that I hypothetically would use as one of the components as a favor to wear for the tournament. I will be normal. So normal.
AND THEN HE GAVE ME A HANDMADE POTION CARRYING POUCH IN HIS BLUE THIS MAN MATCHED MY FREAK AND I TEMPORARILY SCALED BACK
gonna stay at 100% freak going forward
#faer personal files#i am about to get so so sappy in the tags#i am typing this bc i started setting up my loom and then i was like wait i need sleep#i literally have dnd in the morning#augh#it is immune to boyfriend curse bc 1. he did not request it 2. it is a surprise and 3. i am weaving not knitting 4. im not a girl#oh 5 he's not even technically my boyfriend yet#i also want to flex. like even when he is at events i am not at i want people envying his custom hand woven pouch and him to be like thanks#my partner made it for me <3#man cannot hand me a mace and a cool heraldic item and expect me to not want everyone to know he is loved#he's gonna have to get used to it. not saying i love you yet you know what i mean.#idk. i like him so much. i like who he is i like how he is and i like that he actually has room for me in his head#i like being looked at without feeling sliced in two. even i can't always do that when i look in the mirror.#i like when he smiles. i like when he looks a little surprised about how delighted i am by him but i'm gonna like it even more when#the surprise settles down bc he feels secure in how much i like him#i wanna make him worse i want to give him an ego i want to make him better i want him to love himself so much#i love getting 3 am goodnight texts bc he was working on his art i love sending those i was in an art hole text now i must sleep texts#a good 6 hours earlier lol and having him be just as hyped i love talking to him i love his smile so much#i am putting in the work to get chill with reciprocation bc i am not used to it and wow. wow. this is. very nice.#my knight
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