#check yourself. genuinely do check yourself. i know sometimes your projecting might lean into stereotypes but be AWARE

[rosescore245]

I had a lot to add and hit the tag limit, so I'm just going to summarize and close out.

These biases aren't always loud and hurling slurs. Hell I bet a large chunk of people don't even realize they're doing it because it's genuinely so ingrained in a lot!

Why is Vio always pale and thin and sooo white sooo pale guys! Like the thinness can be argued to be grief and lack of self care. But the rest? Vio literally only reads one book in the manga AT ALL. I assure you he wouldn't spend all of his time inside to the point of being paper white.

Why is Blue so often darker? Why is he always super buff? Why can't he be fat or have light hair? Why can't he be anything but muscles and dumb and dark and anger? Why is it hard for people to treat him like a person?

Why is Red the only one that's chubby? Why is it that when I once told someone about my headcanons, the only thing they brought up was "hear me out: chubby red"? Why is it only ever him? Why can't HE be BUFF? Why can't he be literally anything else? Like my Red is fat because I'm fat and I'm aware and TRY.

And Green! You didn't mention Green in your post, but I've noticed a pattern. In the thrall of the manga making it a point that he's the "most Link" (I doubt that's even really true), I see so many people go such a specific way? He's always white, maybe a tiny bit tanned, with like. Lean muscle and golden hair. It leans into this weird vibe I usually can't put my finger on but it feels weird. Like how come the other three get so many headcanons slapped on. But Green gets to be the blonde white hero every time. It feels fucking weird.

And Shadow. Oooh boy. Shadow is the brunt of this I think. Giving him dark skin and then making a point of writing or drawing him as INHUMAN? What the fuck goes on in some people's heads. Genuinely. Like it's not even subtle at this point it's racism cut and dry. The one doing it may not always be aware but it's RACIST. SO RACIST. And depending on other headcanons employed...colorist too! Because if Blue is made black, I often see Shadow be darker skinned which is an ugly picture. "I may be the angry dark skin but at least I'm a hero! Shadow is so much worse than me, see?"

Think for five seconds at LEAST before doing this shit. And mix it up? Like the Tall Pale Thin Vio leans heavily into the White Savior, especially when Shadow is made dark skinned. The "fat character is dumb" thing has been around for so fucking long it isn't even funny, so why is it how people see Red? Why is Green always the fairytale hero, why are the other four almost seen as subhuman in comparison? Is there some unknown spell over Green that makes it impossible to make him Anything Else?

Check yourselves. Be aware, know your biases. I, a privileged white girl from Texas, can think. Why can't others? (I don't identify as a girl but like. It's how I present. It's relevant.)

Fiction DOES affect reality. Maybe not always in a visibly direct way, but it does. Just THINK FIRST. Understand why this post exists. Understand why this is bad. Understand that you can become better and learn.

Literally just think.

hey you guys should stop making shadow link, the evil villan link. darkskinned. right now. im serious and im sick of it. i know that the most popular artist here does it, doesnt mean everyone else has to. please im actually fucking begging you guys to consider what your appearance headcanons say about your perception of your fellow man.

while im at it, vio being *skinny* and tall and *pale* and with lighter blonde hair. as the smart one. hm. oh and blue. the angry one. with darker skin and hair than the other three. oh right and who could forget about red. with curly hair. the innocent and "dumb" one. hes more likely to be depicted chubby too! im trying so hard to be nice rn so people will listen but its so hard to not scream my throat raw. you guys are being racist and fatphobic right now. do you realize that. oh my fucking god.

[ddarker-dreams]

Puppet Strings. Yan Ghost Josuke x Reader [COMM]

Warnings: Josuke’s temper flaring, typical yandere elements, brief alcohol mention. Word count: 3.1k

i.

You didn’t think much of it when you saw your window wide open. 

No, it wasn’t that particular moment that sent alarm bells ringing. It’s remarkable what the human mind is capable of scrounging up to justify an otherwise horrifying situation. Moving from one place to another is an exhausting effort -- you reasoned to yourself -- maybe you reopened it and forgot. That sounds perfectly plausible. Sleep came easily to you that night and all was forgotten the next morning. There were some other minor occurrences, cabinets being open, the television flickering. Nothing incriminating, nothing to worry about. 

For a time, this logic worked in your best interest. The last straw was when your personal belongings started going missing. Lip glosses, shirts, and even some sketchbooks. Contacting the police served to be no help. When they asked who could hold a vendetta against you, you had no solid leads. You’d only been in Morioh a little over a month. Earning an adversary in that short a time felt unlikely, if not impossible. Classmates were interviewed, their alibis clearing them of possible suspects, the investigation stagnant. Your neighbors hadn’t seen questionable figures lurking around your home. Days went by, and a few patrols later, the police claimed there wasn’t much else they could do. There were no signs of breaking and entering, no fingerprints, no leads. 

No peace of mind.

You’ve explored every logical avenue. Not knowing what to do next is the worst part, it’s what serves to frustrate you the most. Sighing, you dry your hands off, mulling over what to do next. Now that you’ve finished washing the dishes, there are no other chores to procrastinate with. Guess I better get started on that project, you think. God, but it’s so hard to focus anymore. 

Without noticing it, you felt drawn to the living room. Anyone would understand, that from the stress you’ve suffered, it’s fine to take a break. A distraction from reality sounds great right about now. Your PlayStation 2, which has been collecting dust, can finally get used. The multiplayer games are bugged -- a Player 2 shows up even when you play it with yourself -- so you haven’t used it in some time. Scanning over the various game choices, you never get a chance to pick one out. 

“Huh, so they released a sequel to that?” An unknown voice, masculine and lighthearted, chimes in behind you. Your immediate reaction is to whip your head back, searching for the source. Heart pounding, you realize this is exactly what you feared. That whoever was stalking you would eventually come to settle things for seeking help from law enforcement. You don’t see him, even though the voice had been close enough to assume he’s behind you. There’s no way you imagined it. Where is he? 

That’s when you see him. 

Whether or not it was intentional, he stands blocking your path to the kitchen, where your phone is. A young man of imposing size, easily dwarfing you. His style throws you off, it’s like he was ripped from another time. That hair… a pompadour? Narrowing your eyes, you stand from your kneeling position, preparing to hold your ground. He might be blocking your ability to call the police, but there’s still the option of running out the front door to alert your neighbors. It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. Just don’t panic. 

“Who are you?” Is the first question that slips past your lips. There’s unfiltered hostility in the words, despite your hesitation to aggravate him. Your eyebrows furrow when he puts his hands up in defense. It gives an impression of mockery in an otherwise grave scenario.

“Woah, calm down there,” he lets out a nervous chuckle that further irks you. “You can call me Higashikata Josuke.”

This person -- Josuke -- is acting too casual about this. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’s the source of your torment these past few weeks. How else could he be standing in your home, acting in such a deplorable manner? For your own best interest, you bite your tongue, that’s dying to hurl numerous insults his way. In contrast to his polite speech, he’s dressed like a stereotypical delinquent. Who knows what Josuke would do should you provoke him. You’ve heard rumors of rambunctious youths in the area and don’t want to test the validity of those claims. 

“Alright, Higashikata-san, I’m going to ask you to leave. This is my house. If you just… leave me alone, I won’t contact the police. Alright?” You feel like your proposal is a considerate one, even if you don’t intend to follow through. Once you get to safety, like hell you’re going to let this punk get away with it, he just doesn’t need to know that yet. Josuke shifts weight from one leg to another, contemplating your words.

“I can’t do that. Besides, the same way you feel this is your house, I equally feel like it’s mine.” Josuke replies, scratching his cheek. His tone almost sounds… apologetic. As if it isn’t completely within his control to leave. You gulp when you realize your approach might not work. Maybe he’s not mentally sound? That’s the most plausible solution. Taking a deep breath, you shift to a less combative posture, still hoping to talk him down.

“Is there someone I could call? A guardian, a friend? Let’s figure this out.” You will yourself to keep each word steady to lure him in. The innocent inquiry doesn’t have the intended effect, Josuke frowning as soon as the word guardian left your lips. Shit. Was that a sensitive topic? The scowl is gone in a split second like it never existed. He takes a step closer to you and you take a step back.

“There’s not much to figure out. I’ll be honest then since I’m sure you’re freaking out right now. Which makes sense. I’d be freaking out too…” he trails off, going deep into thought. Finally, Josuke manages to choose the proper words. “How do I go about this? Alright, I’ll just come out and say it.” 

“Well, to put it in simple terms, I’m dead.” 

You blink. Tilting your head, you conclude that this Higashikata Josuke is not mentally well. Getting in contact with a professional is your new top priority. Josuke picks up on your hesitant body language and rushes to give credence to his claim.

“I know, crazy, isn’t it? I’m sorry about your stuff, by the way. Felt like the best way to understand my new housemate without sending you running right away. I’ll return it now,” Josuke’s demeanor doesn’t give you the impression of a liar. Still, a spirit? You don’t know what to think anymore. He sighs at the sour expression on your face. “How to prove this to you… ah, I know. Hey, check this out.” 

Josuke points to the controller sitting on your couch. Not a second later, it starts levitating in the air, your jaw-dropping at the unfeasible spectacle. Josuke lets out an airy chuckle at your bewilderment. “Sorry, that was pretty lame. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“There’s… really a spirit, in my house.” You struggle to say it aloud. The people living in Morioh could be superstitious, a view you attributed to living out in the country. This paranoia, or sometimes reverence, never fell in line with your beliefs. There was no solid proof that the supernatural existed. It made for riveting local stories, for youths to gossip and movies to adapt, but the line was drawn there. A timeline plays in your head of the past few weeks. It would explain how no one in this active community spotted an intruder, or how the police never found physical evidence. 

“Our house, actually.” He corrects with a beaming smile.

ii. 

Maybe it’s not so bad. 

Josuke, with whom you have an unusual relationship, makes for decent company in your otherwise uneventful life. You still can’t help but feel on guard around him for his earlier behavior. As he explained it, borrowing your belongings was just a way to get to know you. He apologized wholeheartedly for the stress he put on your life. It felt genuine, but an apology doesn’t make everything go away at once. Little by little, Josuke’s grown on you, worming his way into your heart. Memories and feelings fade, your first few weeks after the move are no different. 

“Have you seen my red scarf anywhere?” You call out, peeking underneath your pillow. Josuke appears from thin air -- an element that took some getting used to -- helping to look around your room. One of your conditions for remaining here was that he’d show up in your room only when invited, a condition Josuke was more than happy to agree to. You guess everyone is lonely in their own way.

“It’s not over here,” Josuke yells from beneath your desk. “What do you need it for, anyway? Can’t you just turn the heater on?” 

“Well, I could, but that wouldn’t do me much good. Some friends invited me to karaoke tonight, and the weather report said it’ll drop to four degrees celsius.” Feeling defeated, you plop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. Josuke leans over, popping into your line of sight. He’s lacking the trademark smile you’ve grown used to seeing. For such a minor change, it packs a punch. Josuke sulks like a kicked puppy.

“Karaoke, huh?” He mutters, more to himself than you. “My old classmates used to do stuff like that. Sounds fun.” 

You sit up and cross your legs. Josuke’s tone is a longing one, wishing to fulfill a dream that can never be, visage painfully bleak. Guilt bubbles up in your stomach for the insensitive comment, not realizing he has a lot on his mind too. Josuke’s bubbly personality stood on a thin sheet of ice, ready to plunge into the depths at any moment. You wrack your mind to try and appease him. 

“It really isn’t anything that exciting. I was going to say no, but they insisted. Just imagine it as a bunch of tone-deaf people drunkards belting, that’s all it is.” You console. Josuke doesn’t light up at your joke, his eyes hollow. From what you know about spirits, if they linger in this realm instead of moving onto the next, that means an obligation is holding them here. You’ve never asked Josuke why he hasn’t passed on. That leaves room for speculation, numerous hours spent ruminating over theories. Maybe he’ll tell you one day, or maybe he won’t. Either way, it’s still tragic he never got to live his life.

“Mm… guess so, yeah.” He isn’t paying attention to your words. Guilt as sharp as knives slices through you at Josuke’s gloomy mood. For a split second, you consider canceling with your friends, to stay home and cheer him up. He always loves playing games with you or just speaking over trivial matters for hours. You push the idea away. Fraternizing with a spirit on the daily isn’t enough to supply your social needs, only friends of flesh and blood can fill that role. 

“Hey, I’m sorry for mentioning it. If you want to talk about--” 

“No,” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “Go ahead. Go live life.” 

You don’t offer a rebuttal. Josuke probably needs time to think, you decide. We can talk about it later.

iii. 

“What’s up?” 

You lean against the wall, payphone pressed against one ear and your hand covering the other. Music blares in the background, terrible acoustics of the crowded bar making it difficult to hear the other line. One of the workers grabbed you, saying you had a call, your guesses of who it could be next to nonexistent. You scrunch your nose up when you hear Josuke’s distinct voice on the other side.

“It’s late,” you hear him say. His voice is muffled, but the exasperated tone is hard to miss. “Shouldn’t you be back by now?” 

Sighing, you struggle to rationalize why Josuke’s pestering you like this. You never gave a time when you’d be home, not thinking it was necessary. “I was going to leave soon. I don’t have class in the next few days, so it’s fine.” 

“It’s dangerous to be out on your own--” 

“Josuke,” you deadpan, rubbing your temples. “I appreciate the concern, really, I do. But I used to live in Tokyo, remember? If I could survive the city at night, I can survive here.” 

“That’s not the point here,” Josuke counters, voice dropping dangerously low. Your patience is wearing thin at his attempts to police your autonomy. It’s not his place to enforce a curfew on you. “You don’t know what kinds of danger lurks in Morioh.” 

Josuke’s statement is full of bone-chilling conviction. Almost like he was speaking from firsthand experience. You take a deep breath, remembering that you’re speaking to someone who likely died in a traumatizing manner here. Maybe extending a little grace wouldn’t hurt. It’s a shame to cut the night short, but it’s not that big a deal.  

“Okay, I get it. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk back home. I’ll see you soon, alright?” 

Softening your voice seems to have the effect you intended. Josuke takes a second to consider, the two of you waiting in tense silence. This is the first time you’ve gone out with friends, maybe he just wasn’t sure what to make of it. You hold no intention of bending to his every whim, but this one time, you’ll offer him peace of mind. There’ll be major boundaries set up in the future. 

He sighs begrudgingly. “... Right.” 

iv. 

This is getting ridiculous. 

Josuke’s behaving no better than an entitled child, your paper-thin patience starting to give way. The circumstances you’ve been placed into were unusual enough, to begin with, but they never felt malicious, not until Josuke’s personality seemed to switch in the blink of an eye. What you can only describe as sabotage has become a regular occurrence. It perfectly parallels the problems you had upon first moving into this house, only now you know the one responsible. He’ll act none the wiser, claiming innocence in what has to be his doing.

Cut phone lines, missing shoes, personal journals disappearing into thin air, nothing has been spared. Maybe you were foolish for trusting a spirit. You’d like to have thought you were on solid terms with Josuke, your mortal mind doing its best to wrap around the otherworldly events. You’re at your wit’s end, now fully prepared to confront him on this unacceptable display. It’s a shame it came to this, you think. Confrontation is the worst.

“Josuke.” 

“[First].” 

The two of you sit in the living room, on opposite sides of the couch. Ever since the karaoke disaster a few weeks ago, Josuke’s attitude has taken an undesirable turn, as evidenced by how he’s acting now. Never did you imagine he could be so petty. You straighten out your posture, squaring your shoulders, and placing your hands on your lap. He stares at you with faint interest, cerulean eyes shining at your attention. 

“I’ve tried my best to be understanding,” you wince at how dramatic your words are. It almost sounds like you’re breaking up with a partner. “If I did something that upset you, please just be honest about it.” 

Josuke gives a nonchalant wave. “Nah, it’s not that important anymore. I recently made up my mind, so I don’t feel too concerned about it.” 

There weren’t many expectations in place for this talk, but Josuke dismissing you this fast wasn’t an outcome you envisioned. It feels like a slap to the face after you spent days dreading this talk. What did “recently making up his mind” even mean? Irritation rises in your throat like bile, words snapping out before you can stop them.

“You don’t just get to be that dismissive,” you point out with a scowl. “I know what you’ve been doing. Taking my stuff again, right, Higashikata? I’m fed up with this shit. Maybe I should just move out--” 

Your sentence gets cut off by the coffee table’s glass shattering. The high pitched noise makes you jump, shards flying in multiple directions on the floor. Glancing from the mess back to Josuke, you find the sight of him as a stronger cause for worry. He looks thoroughly unimpressed with your emotional outburst. Thick eyebrows knit together, his face contorting from friendly to enraged. You gulp when a sudden chill in the air sending shivers down your spine. With how friendly your relationship with him had been up to this point, you forgot to watch your tongue, the initial reverence wearing off long ago. 

Josuke stands up, flaunting his towering build. Looking down at you through lidded eyes, he reaches down, and you catch a glimpse of light blue and pink. Huh? What was that? A trick of the lights, maybe? As fast as it was destroyed, you watch in awe as the pieces return to their original place. Broken glass, chips of wood, screws and all, become whole as if it was a movie playing in reverse. Is this something else a spirit can do? 

“Y’know, [First],” Josuke begins with a humorless laugh. “This is great. I wasn’t sure how to do this part. Now I don’t have to worry about that, so let me cut right to the chase.” 

You feel the blood draining from your face, goosebumps dotting your skin. This is wrong. Whatever he’s doing now, you can’t stand another second of it. “Josuke, you’re scaring me.” 

“That’s fine by me.” He smiles. There’s a palpable thickness in the air, tension elevating as each second crawls by. Your mind trips over itself in search of a solution to this, but deep down inside, you’re filled with dread. A dread that this damage is beyond repair and that you’ve made a fatal mistake. Would screaming even help you? Could you outrun a ghost? Your heart pounders against your ribcage and you pray it isn’t Josuke who’s trying to rip it out. 

“You saw that table,” Josuke points to the once destroyed furniture, now neatly put back together. He frowns at your lack of confirmation, pressing further, voice increasing in volume. “Right?” 

You somehow manage to nod. Your throat and tongue are too dry to use and the room feels like it’s spinning. 

“That makes this simple then,” Josuke sits back down to his spot from before and stretches his arms. “There’s a lot I’m capable of. Way more than I’ve shown you. Breaking things apart and fixing them is my specialty, but… that last part can easily be omitted.” 

Josuke turns to face you, eyes peering into the depths of your soul.

“Threaten to leave me again and I won’t even bother to put you back together.” 

[skvaderarts]

Hitaeth Chapter 45: Pastimes

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Five: Pastimes

Note: I rediscovered the Ghost in a Shell theme song Inner Universe last night at 4 am. Words are not enough to describe how it makes me feel. I just needed someone to know that. Enjoy the chapter.

(-~-)

They had long since passed the point of concern and fallen into the territory of worry.

Even equipped with the knowledge that time flowed differently in the underworld than it did in the human realm, and the reality that that was probably where he’d gone, the fact that the eldest Son of Sparda had been gone this long without a word was enough to make them worry. The young summoner has taken an impromptu trip furniture shopping just under a week ago, and today the furniture had been delivered for hell's sake. Where on earth had Vergil disappeared to?

V sat in the living room with Griffon, Shadow, and Flora, the latter of which was indulging in an interesting hobby for someone as young as she was: cross stitching. He’d been surprised to learn that she could do something like that in the first place, to be honest. V had never seen anyone aside from stereotypical older ladies indulge in such a practice, so it was a pleasant change of pace. She had also crocheted a few times as well, and her interests seemed to be split between them. But either way, he was intrigued by her skills.

Much to his fascination, she seemed to be able to do this while reading, using her abilities to turn the pages of the book and even move it a small distance. She’d even used her abilities to help move a few smaller pieces of furniture around the room when V had changed his mind on their placement and the movers had been long gone. It was the sort of ability that he would kill to have. He could only imagine how useful it would be to be able to read while he did random tasks around the house. He would get so much done!

From what he’d been told by her, it was extremely difficult to actually do what she did, and it had taken her years of practice to learn the fundamentals. She was only now going into more advanced studies, the very things she’d been reading up on while indulging in her hobbies. She’d also told him that his family's natural inclination towards things like air stepping, rappid dashing, and teleportation was genuinely fascinating to her since basically no one in her family knew how to do that without set doors to move them from place to place. From what he could tell, she lamented this somewhat, but was still clearly impressed by it. Perhaps it would be best to refrain from telling her that he could teleport. No need to get himself punched.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now what that scroll did.”

“You consented to have a spell placed over your home without understanding its effects first? Poor form.” She said with a mischievous smile, turning the page in the book and glancing over towards it as she continued her project. “No matter, I should have double-checked with you first. That’s my bad. It’s a general protection ward. Darkness cannot touch anything within the confines of this building. Think of it the way that movies always depict churches functioning. How demons cannot enter them because they are sacrosanct and such.”

He had to admit that was an interesting prospect. He hoped that it would actually work towards keeping demons at bay in the way that she had described. He was perfectly capable at holding his own in a fight with a few average demons, and didn’t have much trouble against some of the bigger ones, but that didn’t mean he wanted to have to fend them off every time that he left the house. They seemed to be attracted to him, and it probably wouldn’t be too difficult for them to just follow him home.

“So what in particular does it protect against? Just demons and the like? Or something else?”

“No, all manner of things. Fires, floods, pestilence. Anything unsightly. You name something run of the mill and it probably guards against it. And only those who you will to enter shall be able to step foot on the premises.” She sat the cross stitch project down and walked around the couch, en route to the kitchen. It was noon, and she would be remiss if she didn’t have a cup of tea.” It should significantly halt the progress of any negative effects placed on you as well. Can I get you anything?”

“One can only hope that the last thing you mentioned applies in this case.” He sighed softly, quietly acknowledging the fact that slowly but surely he did feel a change of some sort. It was hard to place exactly what it was going if anything, but he made a point of not dwelling on it. Anything that could slow the spread was welcome. “Nothing in particular. I’m open to recommendations.”

With a polite shrug and a nod, she headed towards the kitchen, leaving V alone with his thoughts and his familiars for a moment. He glanced over at Griffon, noting that the mouthy bird seemed to be snoozing on top of a pile of books that they had been sorting a short while ago. The pair had needed a break from that task, having spent the better part of the last week working on it. But at least they had reached the last box and he would soon be able to enjoy full shelves and rest his eyes before inevitably ruining them again with more reading. Perhaps another trip to Redgrave city could be in the cards at some point? Better yet, what had become of that flower that he’d brought Magnolia a while back? He had to remind himself to ask her about it. He couldn’t place why, but its omission from consciousness bothered him.

Peering over at the other end of the couch, he noticed that Shadow was awake now, the large panther seemingly just relaxing and enjoying the small amount of light that decorated the room they were in. It was a blissful sort of silence, the large panther clearly content with her current surroundings. He sometimes wondered what went on in her head. She was clearly an intelligent creature, equally as much as Griffon if not more so. She just couldn’t speak to him. And then there was the matter of his third familiar. What had become of Nightmare? It was something he thought about from time to time. Could he get him back? And would he have to endure the same treatment that he had the last time that he’d attempted to gain control over the demon?

He shuddered at the thought. He’d nearly died the first time… 

After several minutes of blissful silence, she returned with a tray that held a tea set. She had borrowed it from Magnolia when she’d informed her that she might be staying for a little while and simply couldn’t live without access to the tea. V had welcomed the surprise edition to his basically nonexistent dish collection, even if it was only temporary. He enjoyed most hot drinks given the fact that he was basically always cold. He had no reason to turn down a good cup of tea.

“Do you feel weaker at all? Is there anything noticeably different?” She asked as she put down the tray and sat down on the other end of the couch. She seemed to pick up on the fact that something was off suddenly. A sudden shift in the atmosphere that she couldn’t place but knew originated from him. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, how else was she going to figure that out?

V looked at her quietly for what felt like forever but was actually just a few quiet seconds as he tried to figure out how to put what he felt into words. There was no pain, strangely enough, and there was no notable shift in his energy levels. He couldn’t say that he felt noticeably stronger or weaker. He just felt… different as though something had changed about him and he was searching every atom his body contained to try and figure it out. But regardless of the effort he put into doing that, he wasn’t getting anywhere.

“There is and there isn’t. I can’t say definitively. What I can say is that I hope this situation is taken care of before I am required to find out.” A pause then and then another sigh, as he took a sip of the tea that she had brought him. Whatever this was, it was delicious. “Perhaps it is simply knowing what may be over the horizon that’s the problem. Or it could be the not knowing. After all, how can I hope to know what Belial truly wants from me? I know it isn’t anything I want to have any part in, but aside from that, his mind is truly an enigma to me.”

She leaned over and rested her elbow on her shoulder, peering at him in a studied silence before recoiling slightly and leaning back against the couch. She too took a sip of her drink before placing it back on the shelf. It seemed that she was correct in her assumption that something might not be right, but not in the way that she had originally thought.

“You're having a hard time putting it into words, aren’t you?”

A nod then. Yes, he was having a problem doing that. It was strange to him how something as basic and nebulous as thinking about what the future might hold had such a profound negative effect on him that it genuinely unnerved him. Initially, he had assumed that it might be an effect of the curse, the negative influence of the devil prince weighing on him like a dark storm cloud looming in the distance, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if that was truly the case. Was it something more that he just couldn’t put his finger on?

“... Have you ever walked into a vast room filled with familiar objects, perhaps ones you placed their yourself and cross paths with often only to immediately know that something was out of place, but despite searching and searching in every conceivable spot that it could be, you found nothing and were forced to leave but unable to shake the fact that you know something isn’t right? And then you have to continue onward and the feeling starts to grow and grow until you just start to consider that maybe nothing was ever wrong in the first place and it was just you?”

She stared at him, not answering the question, but taking the time to think about what her answer might actually mean in the grand scheme of things. Was “loaded question” the correct term to use for something like that? No, this was much too personal and borderline philosophical for that to be the case. This had more to do with him than it did the effects of the curse. Perhaps the curse was causing him to dwell on things that he shouldn’t but she wondered if that was the actual cause of whatever thoughts had led him to saying something like that.

“When you say that, are you talking about the effect that the devil prince has over you that you can’t identify, or are you talking about yourself?”

For a moment, V just sat there. He was genuinely unsure as to how he could answer that question. He’d just considered that same thing in his own way, but hadn’t realized that it was the question he’d asked himself. Seconds turned into minutes as he just sat there, trying to place the part of his brain that might contain that answer. When nothing came to him, he simply sighed and decided to try his very best to actually put what he thought into words. He doubted that it would make any sense, but it was the only thing he could do at this point.

“Both, I suppose. I have my own personal issues to attend to. There is no denying that… but this situation certainly isn’t helping.”

“Understandable.” She said, taking a final sip of her tea. She then poured another, and began fixing it the way that she liked. “Then let’s do everything we can to get it sorted out. I have a feeling that things are going to work themselves out.”

V wasn’t entirely sure why her words affected him the way that they did, but he believed her. Perhaps it was because that was all that he could do right now. He had to continue to hold it together until his father returned, and then they could pitch the idea they had to him. All he had to do now was wait and keep calm in spite of his situation. From what he understood, it took about six weeks for his father and uncle to return from the underworld the first time, and they thought that they had only been gone for a few days. It was highly possible that Vergil simply hadn’t noticed the passage of time like they had. He would just continue to wait and see what happened.

The young summoner knew that he probably wouldn’t say as much, but he was glad that Flora was here to keep him company. He’d probably go crazy if he was forced to sit inside for his safety all day with just his familiars to keep him company. He adored them, but there was some merit to having a companion around, at least once in a while. In moderation, well, it was fine. But frequently? He’d literally move house before he’d accept the presence of constant, uninvited company.

But just as that thought entered his mind, a cold chill crawled up his spine. He had a strange feeling that something was wrong, and this time, it wasn’t anything having to do with him. Something was coming. He could just feel it.

(-~-)

“Honestly Dante, I’m never going to understand why you even try to play poker with me. You already know what’s going to happen.”

Cards hit the worn surface of the fold-out card table as Patty reached across the space between them and slid the black and red pieces towards her, shaking her head as she did so. Dante had never once succeeded in beating her, and it was mind-boggling to her that he still tried. At first, she had assumed that he had been allowing her to beat him as a young child, but as the years passed, she realized that he genuinely just sucked at any form of gambling.”

“You know, Patty, I was just thinking the same thing,” Trish said with a nonchalant shrug as she took another bite of the pizza that sat on the owner of the devil hunting establishment’s desk in the middle of the room. They had brought over a few after finishing up a job for Morrison. It was probably best to come over and pay their longtime friend a visit and distract Dante for a few minutes, at least from what Nero had told them when they had called to see how he was doing.

According to the youngest of the Sparda descendant quartet, Dante was only barely hiding the fact that he was actually starting to wonder where Vergil had gone off to and what he had managed to get himself mixed up with this time. How was he supposed to rest easy knowing that he could literally be anywhere doing anything? Vergil was capable and had certainly been through worse, but his previous track record with his brother proved that he wasn’t as indestructible as either of them would like to believe. And the fact that he had left angry hadn’t helped, either.

“Look Vergil… just come back already. You’ve gotta stop doing this to me. I’m getting too old to be worrying about you like this. And you’ve got kids. And grandkids. They all need you back here. Just… ” 

Dante thought to himself quietly, wondering if anyone noticed his intermittent silence. He smirked, shaking his head playfully as Patty stole all the chips yet again, only half paying attention to the game in the first place. He saw what his friends were trying to do, and he certainly did appreciate it, but he couldn’t help but worry over his twin. They had made quite a bit of progress in the short time that they had been back. Well, it was a short time in comparison to the lifetime that they had spent apart, but either way, not very long. It seemed unlike him these days to just leave and not say anything at all.

… Now he knew how Nero must have felt when he did that very same thing to him and left for six weeks to take a scenic tour of the underworld with Vergil. In retrospect, that had been a massive dick move, leaving him at the top of the Qliphoth to clean up the mess and wonder for the rest of his life if they would ever return. He hadn’t meant to do that to him, but it didn’t change the fact that that was actually what he’d done. Once Vergil returned and they all met up again, he would have to say as much. And he would return. Somewhere deep down, he just knew it. In one form or another, he always did. But for now, he would allow him to enjoy his peace and quiet with his family. He probably needed them now more than ever.

“I wonder how that brother of yours would do in a game against me? Do you think he’d win?” Patty said, making a funny face at Dante, clearly trying to snap him out of the slump he was in. He could only hide it so well, and in that moment that he had allowed his mind to wander, he had returned to a dark place that he didn’t like to visit. One that reminded him of when he had first met the lovely young blond girl.

“Absolutely not.” He said, noticing for a moment that his older twin would have probably said the very same should he have been there. He absolutely hated to lose, and despite the fact that he was certain that he had no idea how to play, he knew that he was pretty enough to learn just for this occasion. Or would that be driven? A mixture of both, then.

“Now that is something I would pay to see,” Lady announced from the other side of the room, laughing to herself as she stopped leaning on the desk and headed over towards the couch. Lucia shook her head and retracted her legs to provide her with room to sit. Dante had a comfortable couch, and she had made herself comfortable on it. Watching Dante play games with his young blond friend brought a happy smile to her face. She could tell that there was quite a bit of history between him and everyone in this room. It was good to know that he had so many friends that cared about him.

Even though I am not one for bets, especially coin tosses'' She shot Dante a fake grumpy glare, barely hiding the blush that formed on her face as he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t mind taking that one.”

Both Lady and Trish shared a slightly wide-eyed glance between one another before looking at Lucia and then Dante. The three women then locked eyes and held their gazes for a moment before Lady shook her head and Trish just closed her eyes and laughed a bit to herself. Dante stared at all three of them in confusion, not noticing the mouth agape stare that was plastered across Patty’s face. But to be fair, that wasn’t the only thing he didn’t notice.

Across the office, the distant sound of a low, barely audible sound became noticeable, stopping every few moments before continuing, barely louder each consecutive time. The door was locked due to the fact that they were closed for the time being, so it could literally have been anything from a stray cat to a random member of the public who had wandered in off of the street. But after a moment, each set of eyes in the building started to drift towards the door. They all seemed to feel the strange pull that drew their collective attention towards it. 

It was a sort of nebulous empty feeling that lined the bottom of their stomachs and made them strangely uneasy. It grew with every passing second until Dante stood up and the rest of them slowly inched towards their weapons, silently preparing for… something. Lucia grabbed Patty and gently pulled her to the side, tucking her between the couch and the stairs as far as she could from the door, and both of the other girls retrieved their larger weapons. 

Lady checked the chamber on her newly upgraded rocket launcher that she had finally retrieved from Dante, and Trish opted to fish a random blade out of the storage closet across the hallway through the back door that faced Vergil’s room. For a moment she thought it was Alastor, but she couldn’t be sure. Her mind was elsewhere. Whatever Devil Arm it was, it would work for now. And if it didn’t, then her lightning and guns would have to do the trick.

Moment’s later, there was a feeble knock at the door. It was louder this time than it had been, or that could have just been the lack of sound in the room now. Even the Jukebox had switched off, hitting its last track. An uncomfortable hushed silence fell over the room. Then, a loud slam and a thump followed by silence. And before any of them could move, something caught their eye. A thick, red substance pooled under the door.

(-~-)

Gah! Sorry, this chapter is SEVERAL hours late. I overslept again. Until like 9 pm. And hadn't finished it. What even is my life lol. This is what running a Minecraft server has done to me lol. Anyone looking to join lol?! Either way, see you in the comment section! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and see you next Wednesday!