#it's set in a time and place when people really did believe in the devil and witchcraft as a real threat to their lives

[finalgirlminamurray]

the funniest example i have of an intended plot twist sailing completely over my head is when i watched the blackcoat's daughter for the first time and did not register that kiernan shipka and emma roberts were different people, nor did i consider for a second that we were supposed to think they were playing different characters. my faceblindness prevented me from telling two similar-looking blonde white women with the exact same hair color and style apart and so for me there was no big reveal that they were the same person. that was just...the movie i was already watching

when it first cut to "joan" at the bus station i just assumed that kat had snuck out and was going somewhere under a fake name, but of course when it cut back to the school and she was still there i figured out that these were two different time periods we were following at once. closest thing to a "twist" for me was confirming that "joan"'s story was in the future relative to rose and kat's. i did not realize how it was supposed to play until my usual routine of checking the wikipedia article for a full cast list after finishing the film. don't know how many other people had the same experience but that was mine

[yuebinnie]

Proverbs 5:19

☾ Pairing : Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader

☆ Warnings : mdni. Priest!Alastor, implied chubby!reader, noncanon Alastor, dubcon, coercion, blasphemy, abuse of authority, blood kink, blood drinking, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering (f receiving), cunnulingus, catholic prayers used in a sexual context, scriptures used to coerce, cum eating, size kink, loss of virginity (implied, not talked about), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, literally just smut

☾ WC : 9.8k

☆ A/N : Taking a break from Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea to write Alastor smut ^^ This contains heavy Christian imagery, so if it's something you are uncomfortable with, this fic might not be for you! I really enjoyed writing this; it's my first time writing smut for Alastor, so hopefully I do not disappoint you all. I also posted the fic on AO3, if you'd prefer reading there. Have fun!

There was something about going to church that felt incredibly soothing. The deafening silence every time you walked in during the early hours of the day, steps echoing against the painted ceiling and colourful rose window, the shadows dancing behind the burning wicks of the candles set on each side of the main aisle, the smell of dust dancing in the air like a reminder of how desolate the people who came to visit truly were. You had not always been religious, but you had found peace in believing that there was a divine truth, that being good in this life would give you eternal bliss.

The church was a small one, and an old one; how it was still standing you had no idea. It was annexed to a small decrepit churchyard with moss-covered headstones that dated from at least two centuries ago. To any passersby, it'd be believed to be abandoned, as the outside of the building was quite literally falling apart, the bricks slowly eroding and the tiles covering the roof covered with the same moss as the headstones. The exterior appearance did not matter however, only the inside did; that's where God resided after all.

Despite its age, the inside and of the church was well kept. Yes, the rose window was cracked, and, as an attempt to keep the place as pure as possible, electricity had never been installed. The candles did the job of keeping the inside lit, and as for the temperature, well, dressing warmly was mandatory during the colder months of the year. The benches were old and the varnish that had once covered them was long gone; dents and chips could be found here and there, but they were still sturdy. The altar was small and simple, a wooden thing settled on a small stage that hovered only a few inches above the floor. Near the entrance sat a confessional which reeked of mould, but in the absolute presence of God, the smell was easily forgotten.

You had a habit of going to pray most days when you were not bedridden from the exhaustion of spending the night reading your favourite verses. 5 AM; the perfect time to pray, just as the world welcomed the sun's warmth and light. Very rarely did you meet anyone else; it had happened a few times, mostly old people nearing death coming to ask for absolution for their sins. Otherwise, the only person you had seen was the priest, whom you only had spoken to once or twice. He would look at you while you kneeled and mumbled prayers and verses, a smile plastered on his face.

It was the only downside of it all, that unsettling presence. The priest, a handsome man you had apologized to God for finding attractive, was always smiling. It was a bone-chilling sight; it made you feel as though he could see right through you, like he had access to every single thought that cluttered the inside of your mind. He had asked for your name once and had told you to have a 'delightful rest of the day'. That day had turned out to be horrible, as you had learned your grandmother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and only had a few months left. You had prayed for her, but God had decided to take her, nonetheless. Your subconscious had linked the priest's words as a direct cause of your grandmother's tragic diagnosis, and you had tried your best to avoid talking to him ever since.

When you woke up that morning, sweaty and feeling stickiness between your thighs, you felt sick to your stomach remembering the dreams that had plagued your mind in your slumber. A faceless man, dragging his lips down your stomach, his fingers touching your body in a way that was so sinful; the only logical explanation was that you had been visited by an incubus, an agent of evil. God was testing you, letting evil reach you to see if you'd be as faithful as Job or if you'd succumb to sin like Eve had. You cleaned yourself and changed your nightgown to proper clothes, putting a slightly warm coat on before leaving your house.

The sun had not yet started to show itself, and a thick fog floated above the quiet streets. The sky was covered with grey clouds that seemed to hang low, you wondered if you could touch them if you reached up, but your mind was too preoccupied with your predicament to try and touch something so close to Heaven. Mind running faster than a hare trying to escape a wolf, you tried to convince yourself simple prayers would do, but a loud voice kept coming back, telling you this could only be forgiven by confessing. The thought of having to talk to the priest whom you had convinced yourself was the catalyst of your grandmother's death made you want to cry, but the thought of failing God and disappointing Him was far more upsetting. You reached the church as the first rays of light made the dew covering the Earth glisten, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Your eyes fell upon the priest, who was bent down in the middle of the aisle, a long match in his hand as he lit the candles up. You froze, your eyes running across his shoulders and back. The door closed loudly behind you, and you jumped; the man's head snapped in your direction, his smile growing when he saw who had just walked in.

"You are quite early today, my dear," the priest stated simply, his focus going back to the unlit candles that still begged to melt under the burning flames. "Luckily enough, our Creator does not sleep; we're under scrutiny every second of our time on this earth."

You gulped at the words, the implications they held. You crept closer to the man, fidgeting as you thought of what to say. You let out a small quiet sigh, biting down your bottom lip as you stopped and stood a few feet away from him. The man straightened up and turned in your direction, his head tilted to the left as his gaze travelled across your face, "Oh my, whatever has you this upset?"

Your cheeks flushed as your eyes shifted from his eyes to the floor, the shame of what you had yet to confess weighing down your shoulders like the cross your Saviour had carried through heat and pain. You felt tiny, the priest towering over you; he had to be close to two feet taller than you. Had this been how Lucifer felt when he was at last pushed to meet his fate in the depths, a force greater than all administrating the final judgment? Sinfully powerless, a mere weak being? Tears gathered at your lower lash lines as you spoke, oh so quietly, your voice like the echo of an echo, "Father, I have sinned."

Seconds passed, silent ones, before the man hummed and walked past you, making his way to the front of the church. You twirled around, your eyes landing on where the priest now stood, in front of the old rotting confessional. You gulped, nodding to no one in particular before slowly making your way to the man who was stepping into the booth, the door closing behind him. You did the same, slowly closing the door after giving the empty church one last look, your eyes lingering a few seconds on the nailed Christ resting behind the altar, seemingly judging you.

You sat down, cringing at the creaking of the wood beneath your weight. The grille was pulled up, the silhouette of the man on the other side vaguely distinguishable. You took a deep breath, then spoke softly as you brought your right hand to your forehead, the gesture almost instinctual, "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen." You put your hand on your thigh, staring at the unmoving priest, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is.... too much time, since my last confession. I am a university student, in my last year to obtain a bachelor's degree." A low hum was heard, and you shifted in your seat, trying to find the exact words for your confession.

"Father, something terrible happened last night. In my weakened sleeping state, evil befell me. I was plagued with sinful dreams. You must understand, I am thoroughly devoted to Christ and our Lord, never have I let a man, or anyone, disgrace the body I was given; never have I had thoughts or dreams of this kind. I fear my will is not strong enough, that this evil shall come back and torment me. I fear I will fall into sin, just as our first predecessors did. I am nothing but willing, Father, so please, do help me. I am sorry for all these sins, and the sins of my past life."

You sniffled, wiping away the tears that had fallen down your rosy cheeks, your eyes glued on the silhouette of the man beyond the grille. His silence made you want to cry even more; were you a lost case? Had your fate already been sealed, your soul now tainted because of the touch of evil in such sacred places? You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited, seconds becoming minutes.

"This evil you speak of, what exactly has it done to you?" His voice seemed to have dropped lower, the sound a bit raspier. You furrowed your brow slightly at the question; you had been clear about the incident. As if feeling your hesitation, the priest continued, "Ma chère, only by knowing exactly what this evil put you through can I give you absolution."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and flinched as the crack of thunder was heard beyond the church walls; your heartbeat quickened, was this Him telling you to obey?

You let out a small breath, before speaking up, the words shaky, "As I slept, this evil... Entered my dreams. It took advantage of my defenselessness. It disgraced my soul and my body. Upon waking up, there was... Remains of the sinful things it had my body do." You could feel the man's stare on you despite the grille separating you, causing yours to drop to your knees, feeling vulnerable.

"What sinful things did it inflict upon you?" Rain had started falling, as if the sky itself cried for you; the sound of it hammered against the roof, a continuous wail of grief for your poor soul.

"Father, I don't understand how this is necessa-"

"Do you not want absolution? Do you desire to be locked out of His kingdom? The choice is yours," his tone was harsher, demanding, even. You gulped and shook your head; no, that was not what you wanted. It was the furthest thing from it.

"I apologize for questioning your words, Father," you began, fidgeting with the hem of your coat, "From what I can remember... This evil took the shape of a man. A faceless man. I was in bed, and it joined me, and... We, uh, we kissed. It took my nightgown off." Your hands felt clammy, and you couldn't help but press your thighs together as you recollected the events of your dreams. "It kissed my breasts, then my stomach. It went... Down there, and stayed there until my whole body tensed up. Afterwards, it pushed itself inside me, it thoroughly disgraced my body. When I woke up, my body showed signs that it had reacted to the defiling. Father, please, believe me when I tell you that I was coerced by evil."

Thunder was heard again, breaking the silence that had settled between you and the priest. As the minutes passed, you became uneasy; was the man disgusted with you? Could he sense the sins radiating from your being? He cleared his throat, breaking your train of thought. Your eyes went back to his silhouette, waiting for him to speak up.

"I fear this is beyond the power bestowed upon me, dear," his voice was silky, it made warmth spread inside your chest, as if the vibrations it had created affected your very cells.

Your eyes widened; that was impossible. You had confessed and explained the evil that had haunted you. You had done exactly what He told His followers to do, confessed and asked for forgiveness. You shuffled closer to the grille, tearing up as you begged, "Father, please, there must be a way. I will do anything; I will suffer just like our Saviour has if it's what it takes. I'm supplying you, help me get rid of this evil."

“Very well,” the man said. You watched as his silhouette stood up and opened the door of the booth before it disappeared. The door of your little chamber opened, and you turned your head to look at the tall priest, who adjusted his glasses as he stared down at you. You took a few seconds to really look at him. Despite his smile that made shivers run down your spine, the man was handsome. His skin was tan, his hair dark and styled in an old-fashioned way. His features were sharp, intimidating, almost. Towering over you, his shoulders were wider than some quarterbacks’, and his waist was ridiculously small compared to them. His hands seemed to be twice the size of yours, and you found yourself wondering how he managed to button up his shirts with such big hands.

You looked back at his face as you blushed, realizing the man before you knew of your body in such intimate ways. You slowly stood up as you held his gaze, unsure of what to say next. He took a step aside and gestured for you to step out of the confessional, before closing the door behind you. The priest smiled down at you, “Follow me, dear.”

He started walking down the aisle, the flames of the candles on each side of it dancing as he passed by. You hesitantly followed him, looking out one of the small windows to see the rain pouring onto the world as lightning illuminated the sky. He stopped at the altar and turned to you, his smile ever present. You stopped in front of the stage; sinners did not belong anywhere close to that sacred place. The man stayed silent and with a gesture of his hand, permitted you to step up. You gulped and got on the stage, feeling extremely out of place.

“There is one way for you to repent,” he began, his stare fixed on you, “Though it is a bit unorthodox. The choice is yours, but you must remember that there is no place for sinners in Heaven.” He watched as you nodded quickly; you were eager to be forgiven, to go back to being free of sin. The corner of his lips twitched before he uttered one word, “Strip.”

Your eyes widened as your face turned a deeper shade of crimson. Stripping? You searched his face for hints of dishonesty, hoping he was playing a sick joke on you, but to your dismay, he was serious. Your body was frozen as you looked at him, not even the booming thunder making you flinch.

You opened your mouth to ask why, but the man beat you to it, answering your question before you even uttered a word, “Only by showing Him precisely how this evil tainted you can you be absolved. There is no need to be shy, ma chérie; isn’t He all-knowing? All-seeing? Wasn’t the shame of nudity created by His first creations’ sin? There is no purer form of devotion than to go beyond the embarrassment and bare yourself to Him; than to accept the vulnerable nature of your existence.”

He brought his right hand up to lay it flat against the wooden altar, observing you as you fought an inner battle with your dignity. His words were true, the wisdom of a man devoted to God, of someone who knew scriptures and their meaning. As if feeling your unmoving incertitude, he spoke up once again, “Proverbs 28:13.”

You blinked up at him, mind searching for the verse you had read many times before. You licked your bottom lip with your tongue before reciting softly, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.” The priest hummed, and you raised your gaze to the crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, feeling as if He was patiently waiting for you to submit to His will. You puffed out a small breath as you nodded to yourself, a hand coming up to the zipper of your coat, slowly bringing it down to then shrug off the piece of clothing and letting it fall on the floor.

You could already feel the wet cold seep through your thin sweater, but you ignored the feeling as you grabbed the bottom of it and lifted it up until it was completely off you; it dropped, finding its place next to your coat at your feet. Your eyes were unfocused, staring into thin air as you slipped your thumbs under the elastic band of your skirt, pushing it down so it pooled at your ankles. You stepped out of it, getting slightly closer to the priest whose gaze was burning your skin despite the goosebumps covering it. You brought a hand to your back, unclasping your bra before slowly taking it off, baring your breasts to the man. Your nipples hardened as the freezing air licked them and you bit hard down your bottom lip as you slid your underwear down your legs, then stepped out of your shoes, leaving you only wearing your lace-arbored anklets.

The man lifted a hand in your direction, a silent request for you to grab it. You did so all while avoiding looking up at him and followed him as he made his way behind the altar, his fingers squeezing yours slightly, “Our Lord blessed you with rare beauty, dear one, what a shame it led evil to you.” You gasped softly as his other hand wrapped around your waist, your eyes shooting up to look at him. He was still smiling, though his eyes seemed clouded with something you could not put your finger on.

He let go of your hand and grabbed the other side of your waist before effortlessly hoisting you up on the altar, the skin of your ass stinging from the cold of the wooden surface. Your gaze was questioning, and the man recited, his voice low and quieter than it had previously been, “I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable to God, which is your reasonable service.” You gaped at him; a true man of God, that’s what he was. “Offer your body to Him, and you shall be absolved. Show Him what evil has done to you, so He can forgive and make you pure again,” he held your stare, his pupils slightly dilated. You nodded once, and the priest stepped aside, leaving you to face your Saviour in your naked glory.

You slowly leaned back, using your left elbow to not completely lie down on the wood. You brought your trembling right hand to your lips, the tip of your index finger stroking the pink flesh as you recalled where the lips of the faceless man had touched you. They lingered there for a few seconds before dipping to your neck, dancing around the column of your throat as your eyes fluttered shut; if goosebumps had not already been covering your body fault of the moist cold, they would have appeared, the feeling titillating. Your chest rose and fell in a timely rhythm as you dragged your touch to your breasts where your finger gently caressed your right nipple. Your lips parted, small breaths making their way out as you gathered with your small hand the heavy fat of your breast, squeezing. You could feel the stare of the priest on you, but you attempted to ignore it as you kept going.

Your fingers went down your stomach, using your nails to slightly scratch the skin, and they stopped a few inches below your belly button. You opened your eyes and looked at the crucifix; His peaceful expression, despite being nailed and in pain, gave you courage and you spread your legs, giving your Saviour the perfect view of your most intimate era. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you slowly brought your fingers down, choking on a soft moan when they made contact with your clit. The simple touch made your composure fall a little, your lips parted as your face reddened, feeling more exposed than you had ever felt before. You gently pushed against the bundle of nerves, gasping as your fingers started to move, following a small eight-pattern.

You could feel your heartbeat thundering against your ribcage, matching the loud striking of the heavenly fire against the earth beyond the safety of the church walls. Soft pants left your mouth as you started working on yourself, closing your eyes to focus on the memories of the previous night. Every touch and stroke were vividly drawn in your mind, your fingers moving in an almost instinctual way, leaving you a whimpering mess. You moved your elbow that was holding your weight, slowly leaning your back against the cold wood, before bringing the now free hand to your face, covering your mouth with it as your thighs trembled. Your body was thrumming, humming with new sensations, your mind as foggy as the early morning that had welcomed you when you had stepped out of your home.

Lost in pleasure, you jumped, your eyes shooting open as you felt long fingers wrap around your wrist, the priest looking down at you, his own eyes sharper and darker than they had been earlier. Your fingers nestled between your thighs stopped moving as you stared at him, but he tsked, “My dear, you must not hide anything from Him. These lovely, sinful sounds you make, are not to be repressed. Let them be; let Him hear what evil inflicted upon you,” his voice sent a chill down your spine, your back arching slightly. You watched as the corner of his lips twitched and let him pull your hand away from your mouth, gulping as you nodded weakly. “Good girl.”

Your breath hitched at the praise, eyes not leaving his’ as your fingers started to move once again, bringing your legs up to rest your heels against the altar, spreading your legs a bit more. As if in a trance, your gaze fixed on the priest as you moaned and gasped, your hips twitching as you rubbed your clit. You saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyes narrowing as you used your free hand to caress the skin of your stomach, slowly inching towards your left breast. Your fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, and with a bite on your bottom lip and a pinch of your nipple, you pushed your middle finger all the way to the second knuckle, your eyes widening at the feeling. You let out a throaty whine, pressing your head harder against the wooden surface that supported your weight. The cold was long forgotten, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat, muscles spasming here and there.

You slid your other hand between your thighs, the digits quickly finding your clit and gently stimulating it as you managed to push your finger further inside yourself. The faceless man from your dreams had used three fingers, and you could only wonder how your dream self had taken them, as you were struggling with a lonely, short finger. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, you bit down your lip and pushed your index alongside the finger that was already pressed inside you. Your face scrunched up at the stretch, a silent sob echoing through the dimly lit space. You felt your walls clench around your digits, your free hand still working on your clit as a way to make the dull ache more bearable. You waited a minute, giving your body time to adjust to the feeling, before carefully pulling the fingers out and thrusting them back in, a surprised whimper leaving your lips as a new feeling started to blossom in your lower stomach.

You arched your back and started speeding up the motion of your hands, unable to keep quiet as your body grew warmer and more tense. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at the priest, who was as still as Christ watching you from His cross on the wall. As you exhaled, you pushed a third finger in, welcoming the stretch with a high-pitched whine. Your knees dropped down onto the altar, leaving your womanhood fully exposed; you watched as the man glanced at where your hands were working in tandem to replicate almost exactly what the evil from your dream had done to you. You gathered the little concentration you had left and started muttering through gasps and moans, “Compassionate Father, you are the Lord who rescues His people. When I am overwhelmed with shame, help me find solace in you. You have said that you will help—though my sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are as red as crimson, they shall be like wool. Remind me that I have been purified by you, that the curse of sin and evil is no longer upon me. In your powerful name, Ame-” You were cut off by a large hand wrapping around your lower face, the feeling making your body jolt.

Right, it had to be the same as the dream; you had not uttered a prayer in it, far from it. You closed your eyes, moaning against the palm covering your mouth, as you focused on the growing tension in your core. Every second felt like minutes and every minute felt like hours as you quickly thrust your fingers in and out, all while you rubbed and nudged your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable, your whole body twitching as your hips tried to follow the movements of your digits as if they had a mind of their own. The priest moved his hand away, and you opened your eyes to watch him bring it to his mouth where he licked his palm, which was covered with your drool.

Something snapped inside of you and a loud sob made its way out of your throat as your muscles tensed up, your walls clenching tightly around your fingers as you stilled them, your mind unable to think about anything beyond the blinding pleasure that took over your body. Your eyes rolled back, pitiful sounds leaving your mouth as your back arched from the altar, your thighs squeezing together, trapping your hands between them. This felt so much better than it had felt in your dream. You teared up; the Lord’s love was so strong; evil could not even compare.

After a few seconds, your body relaxed, and you were left panting and sweaty, as if you had just run a marathon. Slowly opening your eyes, your vision became clearer as you blinked, a smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the crucifix, then up to the priest who had not moved. You removed your hands from between your thighs and brought your left one up to wipe the pearls of sweat on your forehead with the back of it. You wrapped your right arm around your chest, trying to hide your breasts as you spoke up, your voice small but hoarse, “Have I done it, Father? Am I free of sin? Has our Lord given me absolution?” Hope lingered; you had done what you were told to do, you had been good, and your Lord was good and forgiving, He had to have seen how faithful you were.

The man’s eyebrows raised before he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly, “My dear, this was only your confession. The truest and purest form of confession.” Your smile dropped. You looked at him as he made his way closer to the wall, where he stopped in front of the crucifix that had observed you as you worked on yourself. His chin tilted up as he looked at it, before his head slowly turned to look at you, “But confession is not enough for this type of sin, sadly; you must also be cleansed.”

You sat up, your brows furrowed, watching as the man stepped closer to you. He stood in front of you, his right hand coming to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. His touch was warm and inviting, but you still wondered what his words meant, so you asked, “Cleansed?”

His thumb stroked your skin as he hummed and brought his other hand up to your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it, “Yes, dearest, cleansed. Your body was defiled by evil, it must be purified. You’ve shown our Lord and Saviour how, and now He shall reclaim your body as His’.” You looked at him, your eyes round and big, trying to make sense of the words that had just been spoken. A small pout appeared on your lips, and the tall priest bent down, his face now closer to yours as he said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper, “You are so easy to read, you know? But to ease your confusion; I shall represent our Lord and make you pure again.”

You froze, the realization of what the man meant hitting you just like David’s stone had hit Goliath. You gaped at him, your mouth opening and closing, searching your brain for the right words to speak, afraid to insult God and the man who stood before you. You gulped and said after taking in a deep breath, “Our Lord… I cannot think of mentions of this procedure in the scriptures,” you blinked, your eyes shining as you looked into his’. “Father, has this procedure been tested before? Where does it come from?”

His long fingers dug into the fat of your thigh as you saw the muscle of his jaw clench, a small whimper leaving your lips at the feeling. He kept squeezing, his creepy smile growing, “Are you implying my authority was not given to me by our Lord? That my will does not stem from His’? That I would go against scriptures, something I have devoted my life to?” You shook your head quickly; you had messed up. You were to never question the words of a priest, for he was much closer to God than you were, and you had done just that. This evil needed to leave; it made you do, think and say things that would only make you unworthy of Heaven.

“Father, do forgive me! This evil, it has taken control of my body and sou-”

“There’s no need for that. I shall make your sins a purest white than Abraham’s sacrificial lamb. You will be reborn a new woman, utterly sinless,” he inched his hand higher on your thigh, “That is what you want, isn’t it? To let your God make you pure again?” You gave him a slow nod and his smile widened as he brought his free hand to his face, removing his glasses and putting them on the altar next to you. He nudged your knees open and settled between them, sliding a hand against the back of your head as he sang praise to you, “What a good girl you are, ma chère.”

His lips smashed against yours and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to follow his lead. The hand resting on your thigh slid to your waist and forced you to get closer to him, his chest pressing against your naked breasts. You moaned into the kiss, pictures of your dream flooding your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around his tiny waist and arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, letting the man run his tongue along your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response. His kisses travelled down your chin, to your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin as you let your head fall back, giving him better access.

His mouth slid to your chest, and you lowered your chin to look down at him as he wrapped his swollen lips around your left nipple. You grabbed a handful of his hair and pressed him closer to you, arching your back slightly. His eye shot up to look at you, humming against your skin, the vibration leaving you a whimpering mess. He separated from your pink, wet bud with a last lick, smiling as he flicked your other nipple with his thumb, “So eager for absolution, aren’t you?” Your soft pants were interrupted with a small gulp as you nodded once again; there was nothing you wanted more. He ran a hand up and down your thigh before grabbing it and removing it from his waist, doing the same motion with the other one a few seconds later. You silently watched as he kneeled, his face a few inches away from your exposed core. The sight made your heart skip a beat.

Something caught your eyes on the wall, and you looked up, seeing a rainbow light up the crucifix hung on the wall; the rain and thunder had dissipated as suddenly as they had appeared, and sun rays were beaming through the colourful tainted glass of the rose window at the entrance of the church. A small smile tugged at your lips, this had to be a sign you were on the right path. You bit down your bottom lip and gazed down, seeing the priest eyeing your womanhood, a hungry look on his face. Your cheeks reddened as you waited for the man to do something.

He slowly inched closer, and let his nose nudge your puffy clit, causing you to gasp softly at the feeling. You felt something warm run up and down your slit, your grip on his hair tightening as he flattened his tongue against your entrance. Your brows knitted, a small noise leaving your lips as he started to move his wet appendage up and down, moving his head slightly as he did so to get his nose to bump against your clit with each lick. His hands went to your ass, and he brought you even closer to his face; you wondered how he could even breathe.

Your mind started to wander as pleasure slowly took over your limbs; was the man between your legs mistaking you for a wine-filled chalice? The slurping noises his mouth was making against you travelled through your body and rendered you dizzy. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and his eyes shot open to look up at you as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass. His pupils were dilated to the point that you could barely see his iris and there was wetness spreading on his cheeks and nose. Lips parted, you sighed and slightly scratched his scalp with your nails, leaving the man groaning as his stare was still fixed on your face. One of his hands made its way down your thigh and disappeared from your view before it reappeared; a dainty wooden-beaded rosary was dangling from his fingers.

The priest took his mouth away from you, a wide smirk painting his lips as he grabbed your wrist and dropped the prayer beads in your much smaller palm. His other hand came forward and started stroking the skin of your inner thigh as he wrapped his long digits around yours, forcing you to hold the rosary. He licked his bottom lip before speaking up, “You know how this works, don’t you?” His smile grew as he watched you nod, “Perfect. Recite them in your head, except the Five Decades; you must recite those aloud. It’s Thursday, so Luminous Mysteries. Whatever your Lord has planned next and does to you, you must keep going, understood?” You nodded again but he shook his head, “Use your words, dearest.”

“I understand, Father,” you said, your voice small.

The man hummed and let go of your hand, dropping it to your other thigh, massaging the skin there as well. His gaze dropped to where your thumb moved to make the Sign of the Cross on the small crucifix pendant. You closed your eyes as you started reciting the Apostles’ Creed, surrendering your body to the faithful man kneeling before you. His lips pressed against you as you finished the first prayer, your finger moving to the first bead. He fell into a now familiar rhythm, leaving you incapable of staying silent as you breathed out soft moans. Something prodded at your entrance and slowly slipped in as you fell back against the altar with a thud. You arched your back as it kept going, much deeper than you had reached with your fingers. It pumped in and out a few times before the man added a second finger, the pressure and stretch making you whimper.

His tongue kept alternating between sucking on and flicking your clit as you busied yourself with prayers. The priest hummed against you before removing himself; you opened your eyes and lifted your head from the wooden surface, eyes widening when you saw blood on his chin and bottom lip. He removed his fingers from you and showed them to you; they were bloody too. You stared at him silently, uncertain of what to say, but he broke the silence, “See what the evil has left in you? Aren’t you so lucky your Lord is ever so forgiving? That he’s cleaning you up to make you free of sin?” You nodded and bit the inside of your cheek. His eyes were gleaming as his fingers went to your lower stomach, smearing the blood on your skin, which made goosebumps appear.

You studied his face, his sharp, dark hooded eyes were staring at you under his defined eyebrows, his plump lips were stretched in a smile; his tanned cheeks and chin were coated with a sheening coat of your wetness and blood. His hair was now messy—your doing—and his fingers were slowly making their way back to your slit. Without thinking about it, you reached out and cupped his cheek with your free hand, rubbing your thumb against his bottom lip. His tongue darted out to lick your digit as his fingers sank back in you, knocking the breath out of you. Your eyes closed shut as you gasped, your hand falling from his face to rest on your hip. You heard him laugh under his breath before the warmth of his mouth was back on you. Your mind reminded you of the rosary you were holding, and you started reciting the Hail Mary.

As you neared the end of the Glory Be, you felt the man add another finger, the stretch making your eyes tear up as you mewled weakly. The words of the prayer passed in your mind, disappearing as he started to thrust them in and out. Your walls clenched tightly around his digits as your chest rose and fell quickly, panting as your body tried to get adjusted to the burning feeling.

Your fingers landed on the first Decade, and you gathered all your strength to start reciting the prayer, your voice shaky, “Then Jesus came to Galilee to the Jordan to John, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’ But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.’ Then he consented.” You were interrupted by a yelp as you felt the priest’s teeth grazing your clit, your free hand landing in his hair, gripping it. Your hips kept twitching as you kept going, stuttering through the words, “And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, ‘This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.’”

The drag of the man’s fingers had turned pleasurable, and you felt your muscles tense up, the feeling in your lower stomach rapidly growing. You pushed on the back of his head, searching for more friction, and you moaned out loudly when he started mumbling against your clit as his fingers kept moving, “Oh my Jesus, forgive me of my sins, save us from the fires of hell; lead all souls to Heaven, especially those who have most need of your mercy.” You could not register the words but the movements of his lips on you made you come undone, your back arching from the altar as your thighs trapped his head in place, your hips lifting to follow his fingers and urge him to press his tongue harder against you. Your every muscle tensed up, crying out as the waves of your orgasm hit you just like the Red Sea had crashed into the Egyptians as He closed its parting. You spasmed around him, your walls trying to push his fingers out, and you felt wetness drip down your ass.

He separated from your clit, kissing it softly as he removed his digits from you, slowly standing up as you cracked your eyes open, your body still jolting randomly as it calmed down from your high. The light coming from the rose window had moved, and from your angle, it looked like a halo surrounding the priest’s head; a breathtaking sight that had you gape in awe. You watched as he tugged at the collar of his shirt, taking his Roman collar off and letting it fall to his feet. Your wetness was dripping from his lips which were harbouring a soft smile, his hands moving unhurriedly to unbutton his cassock. His eyes travelled up and down your spent body, then to the rosary you had forgotten you were still holding; you clenched your fingers around it and moved to a new bead, your lips moving silently as you recited the Hail Mary in your mind.

You kept your eyes on his hands as they reached the last button, the man shrugging off the black piece of clothing, revealing he was wearing a white tank top and black pants underneath it. You gulped at the true size of his shoulders; you had thought his cassock gave the illusion he was large, but even with it off, he looked huge. The smallness of his waist only accentuated how massive the built of the priest was. He had muscles but they were lean; despite it all, he looked strong and exuded a masculine aura that had you squirming in place.

Your observations were interrupted by his voice, “Do you feel like the weight of your sin has lessened, ma chère?” You dipped your chin once; you did feel lighter. The man grinned wider as his hands wrapped around your waist, bringing your torso up effortlessly so you were now sitting. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over so his lips pressed against the shell of your ear, whispering, “You did so well, dear, you’re almost as pure as the day you were born. There’s only a step left in this procedure, but it will hurt at first.” He pressed a hand on the back of your head and pushed forward, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You inhaled and felt his fingers massage your scalp gently.

He smelled so intoxicating; a mixture of moss, rain, coffee, tobacco and a hint of something floral emitted from his skin. You realized you had pressed your lips against the man’s neck when you felt him tense up, his hand stilling in your hair. You backed away slightly, blushing so brightly you were grateful he could not see your face, muttering an apology. His body relaxed again, and he hummed, “There’s no need for apologies. Bite down my shoulder—don’t be scared to bite hard—it will make you focus on something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant but pressed your lips together when you heard a zipper, followed by the shuffling of clothes between your bodies. You brought your hands to his chest, the rosary still in your hand, fingers fidgeting with the beads as you felt one of his large and cold hands spread your thighs a little further apart. You felt his fingers run up and down your slit and you gasped at the feeling, your nails slightly digging into the muscles of his chest. A wet sound travelled up to your ears and you closed your eyes, a shiver running down your spine when you felt a hand drop to your hip, kneading the fat there, and his voice, now a low murmur, “Bite down.”

You barely had the time to process the words that you felt pressure against your entrance which ceded, your walls wrapping around something so thick you shrieked before sinking your teeth into the man’s shoulder. It felt like you were being split in half; the thickness slowly forced its way inside you as tears gathered at your lower lash lines before they dripped down your cheeks. You bit down harder and pulled away quickly when you felt iron-tasting warmth coat the inside of your mouth, but the hand still in your hair pushed you against the bleeding bite mark, the priest almost growling, “Bite, and drink. At this moment, I am God; I am Christ. His blood is mine, and my blood is His’. Savour, dear one, and let me cleanse you inside out.” You let out a shaky breath before sinking your teeth back in his flesh, your brows knitting as he pushed his length an inch deeper inside you, “So obedient.”

You let the blood fill your mouth and swallowed, cringing at the taste but unwilling to go against Heavenly orders. Your arms snaked around his waist as he kept slowly pushing himself into you. The pain was unbearable, but your mind went to Christ, and how much he had suffered for the sins of all; the ache between your legs was a pinch compared to what he had endured, so you toughened up and let your tongue lap at the blood. Your brain felt foggy, and you could only take it as a sign that it was your body reacting to being filled with the divine energy pouring out from the priest. His length reached deeper than his fingers had, and you wondered how much of it you had left to take in.

You soon had your answer, the man stilling as his pelvis pressed against yours; he was so deep in you, stretching you so wide. Your mouth detached from his neck, and you pressed your forehead against his skin, panting loudly as you tried your best to relax your walls around him. The hand that was in your hair made its way to your waist, squeezing gently as you felt his lips press against your ear once again, “Your Lord is so pleased with you; you’re taking his cock so well. You’ll be redeemed in no time.” He slowly pulled out, leaving only his tip in, before thrusting in you at a medium speed, leaving you sobbing against his neck. It was overwhelming, the feeling of his length rubbing your inside and the warmth spreading in your chest, God’s love making you burn up. The feeling started to transform from pain to pleasurable pressure, your pained cries turning into needy moans.

You had managed to reach the tenth Hail Mary in your mind, your fingers reaching the second Decade. You whimpered out the beginning of the Second Luminous Mystery, “On the third day there was a marriage at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there; Jesus also was invited to the marriage, with his disciples.” The priest started moving faster, his hips meeting yours at a much quicker speed; you whined as his tip hit a certain spot inside you, the rosary dropping on the floor as you dug your nails into the man’s shoulder blades. You could not concentrate on anything other than the drag of his length against your walls, panting and gasping each time he bottomed out.

He slightly pulled away from your body and looked down at you, his hips still moving as he brought a hand to grab your jaw from under, forcing you to look at him. He eyed you before crashing his lips against yours, moaning as he tasted his blood in your mouth. You slid your hands up to his hair, tugging at it and scratching his scalp as your teeth clashed together, tongues dancing. You pressed your chest closer to his’ and sighed as your nipples rubbed against his tank top, the feeling sending electric shocks to your core. You parted away from his lips, catching your breath, and your eyes opened and landed on the crucifix watching you; you smiled softly—oh how good was His clemency. Your gaze went back to the priest who was slightly panting, his lower face covered in blood—just like yours— as he smirked at you, sliding his hand to your cheek, stroking the skin tenderly.

In half a second, he pulled out and manhandled you, so you were now bent over the altar, your breasts pressed against the wooden surface as your feet dangled in the air, his large hands holding you up. His knee nudged your legs open wider and you felt him slip back inside you, the new position bringing a different sensation. His hips met your ass, and he started thrusting into you eagerly, loud smacks echoing through the church. You held yourself up on your elbows, holding your head up as you looked at the front door; if someone were to walk in, they would see the priest cleansing you, a Godsent blessing.

Your elbows started to tremble, and the man noticed; he slid a hand below your stomach and hoisted you up against his chest, your back pressed against him. He held you up, his arms wrapped around you as his pelvis smacked against your ass, your feet dangling one foot above the floor. He slid a hand down, his fingers running down your slit, groaning as he felt where you two were connected. He ran them up again and pushed his middle finger against your puffy clit, gently rubbing it as he kept working himself in and out of you. Your head fell back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to attach his lips to your neck, kissing and nibbling at the skin.

You truly never had felt anything like this; if you had been a fool, you’d have thought you were glowing from how fulfilled you felt. The familiar tension grew in your lower stomach, lewd noises leaving your mouth as the man dug the fingers of his other hand into your flesh, holding you closer to him as his movements became erratic. His groans and grunts were sending shivers down your back, only adding to the multitudes of sensations you were currently drowning in. As if he could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, he mumbled against your neck, “Let go, ma chérie. Let evil leave your body, let God replace it with goodness.”

Your breath hitched and with a few more nudges on your clit, the pressure building inside you snapped. Your vision went white as you came, the feeling different from your previous releases. Even through the waves of pleasure, you could feel something drip down your thighs and could hear squelches as the priest kept thrusting his length in you. Your mouth was open, silent cries leaving your throat as you clenched tightly around the man. You felt his lips move against your neck, but you were too lost in feelings to understand what he was saying.

Your tensed-up muscles slowly relaxed as the remains of your orgasm washed over your body. You whimpered as the man kept moving, your core feeling overstimulated by his length still burying itself inside your sensitive walls. He quickly pushed your front back against the altar, grabbing your hips as he moved both his hips and yours in sync, your nails digging into the wood as your ass smacked against him. His thrusts were harsh and fast, leaving you breathless; tears were streaming down your cheeks at the delightful ache.

His hips stilled, his length buried deep inside you, as he groaned lowly. You felt your inside be flooded with warmth, whining as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface, the cold of it grounding you. You were panting, the warmth creating a pleasant pressure inside your core as the priest rubbed his thumbs over your Venus dimples. He stayed inside you for a few more seconds, before easing out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He once again manhandled you so you were now sitting facing him, holding your limp body up as he dragged a hand up your moist thigh, grinning, “See this wetness? It was the remains of evil leaving your body.” His hand reached your slit and he gathered a sticky white substance on his fingers, bringing his hand up close to your lips, “And this is goodness. Do remember, my dear, your sins are scarlet and they shall be as white as snow.”

You gaped at him; he truly was a man of God. He pushed his fingers past your lips, and you let him, wrapping them around his digits as your tongue licked at the goodness. The taste was bitter, but as your eyes met his’, all you could think about was how caring and selfless the man standing in front of you was. You had come to him, worrying about your purity, and he had completely cleansed you of sin and given you his own God-gifted goodness, not asking anything in return. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brushed your cheek with the back of his index, his smile not faltering, “What is this look you are giving me?”

You blinked a few times, your cheeks flushing as you realized you had been staring, “Father, I must thank you. My body and soul were barren, and you made them anew again. I do not know how I could ever repay you.” His eyes narrowed at your words, his hand reaching to grab his glasses before he put them on and ran a hand through his hair. It dropped to your thigh and drew shapes on there, his gaze not leaving yours.

“Alastor,” he said simply before stepping away from you and bending down to grab your clothes. Your expression turned to a confused one as you watched him slip your underwear up your legs, your skirt following. You let him dress you, his fingers skilfully clasping your bra behind your back before he motioned you to lift your arms so he could slip your shirt back on. Once dressed he let his hand lay on your thigh again, before he spoke up, “My name is Alastor. Call me by it and your debt is repaid.” He grabbed one of your hands and dropped the rosary in it before grabbing your waist and helping you down the altar, “Keep this, use it whenever you feel evil is near.”

You nodded up at him and smiled, your grin faltering for a second when you saw that the crucifix on the wall had detached and was now hanging upside down. Oddly, you thought nothing of it and you looked back at Alastor, your smile spreading wide, “Thank you, Fa—Alastor.” You squeezed the rosary between your fingers, watching as he bent down once again, but this time to grab his cassock and Roman collar. You stood silently as he buttoned it up and placed the white collar around his neck. He straightened the fabric with his hands, before meeting your eyes.

“You look quite a mess, dearest, you’d better go home and clean yourself.”

Your hand flew up to your face where dried blood was caked on your chin and around your mouth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck at his words; he did not look any better. Despite it, you nodded, shifting on your feet as you thanked him once again, “I cannot express how thankful I am, Alastor, truly. You, uh, you should probably get cleaned up too; people would probably wonder why there’s blood smeared on their priest’s face.” The man chuckled and nodded before bending down to grab your coat, handing it to you once he straightened up. You took it and quickly slipped it on, putting the rosary in one of the pockets.

You clasped your hands together and bit down your bottom lip as the man put a hand against your back and urged you to walk with him. You walked down the main aisle silently, stopping once you had reached the end of it. You turned to him and opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it, “Go, now. Enjoy your newly found purity.” You smiled and dipped your chin once; he grinned back, “I will see you tomorrow, though I am hoping you will not walk back in here with that same pitiful expression you had earlier.”

You let out a small laugh as you gestured that you agreed before giving him one last glance and turning around, walking towards the door. You could feel his stare burn holes in your back but ignore the feeling, pushing against the door and stepping outside, the sunlight momentarily blinding you. You sighed loudly, looking around to make sure no one was close; the last thing you wanted was someone seeing you limp, your face bloody. You began to make your way back home, ignoring the way your thighs stuck together from your and Alastor’s bodily fluids. You thought about his words, and strangely, you found yourself disagreeing; you hoped the faceless man would come back. You had tasted true goodness, the powerful and unconditional love and mercy of God, and you wanted more of it.

[i-have-stolen-endless-names]

The Devil In Love - Prologue

Possible Trigger Warnings

>>Alucard is a Warning on his own.<<

Overall Yandere Themes

Mentions of: Manipulation, Stalking, Alucard is thinking of biting you and drinking your blood, the beginning of obsessive and possessive behavior

Minors please do not interact!

Content

Reader is working at the Hellsing manor as a housekeeper

Story is set before the happenings of Hellsing - Still Spoilers ahead

Reader is gender neutral, no pronouns are used but "you"

Age, ethnicity, height, weight and any other physical attributes are never mentioned. You are free and encouraged to imagine yourself or an OC in this scenario.

Index

Next Chapter: The First Step

Follow me for more!

The vampire king was a rather lonely man. He was always looking for attention. Often he would manifest out of the shadows just to delight in the shock of people around him. It was also a regular occurrence that he eavesdropped on other peoples conversations. Occasionally there would be even something interesting in those endless halls.

It was harmless, really, his desire to get involved in everything. Of course, no one agreed with that. No one wanted a dangerous vampire to know everything about them.

Mind you, he never knew everything about someone. That would simply consume too much time and it would not be worth it. Yes, humanity intrigued him but his curiosity rarely bordered on interest or even adoration. The people he took a liking to could be counted on one hand - and even there he had never expected the number to grow. At least so he firmly believed until you came along.

Oh, you really should not have come here. Hellsing was no place for you. Not because you lacked the qualifications. No, he was certain that you were as capable as any other human working in this old building.

But no one of them had caught his interest like you did. It was a curse, not a blessing, did you understood that?

Any drop of attention you gave him. Every glance that you shot him. It all made his skin burn in the most delectable painful way. He was dead. Not even a corpse in the traditional sense. Alucard was nothing but sin taken form. A devil in disguise. But you made him feel hot-blooded. Hunger was something he was painfully familiar with. But such longing? You were in deep trouble. No matter if you understood it or not.

On his best days, he was still a dangerous, foul beast that loomed in the shadows. Million of eyes were focused on you alone, teeth aching to be buried in your neck.

On his worst, he would watch you sleep. His mind flooded with dark thoughts of how vulnerable you were. How weak... It would be so easy to make you drop into his arms, willing and ready. You would bare your throat to him and beg him to be bitten.

But for some reason, he felt almost appalled at the thought of using his abilities on you. He rationalized it with the knowledge that someone might find out, that Integra would be beyond furious if he toyed with her workforce more than he normally did.

Besides, he had seduced so many people already. He did not need to influence you mentally to make you swoon for him.

So he got... busy. It was better than rotting away in his basement, at least so Integra thought. This might be one of the reasons why she did not intervene when he reportedly appeared around you. To the point of distracting you from your work.

But keeping Alucard from being a menace was still work worth paying. The other servants of the manor felt a bit torn on this whole situation, especially those you had been close with. At least your presence kept Alucard busy enough to not terrorize them.

A dog on a leash could still bite. And his teeth were so very sharp. He gladly reminded you of them whenever he could. Often flashing you that wide grin that went way too far up his cheeks.

He would watch you work on hours before he chose to reveal himself. If he even chose to reveal himself. A few teasing remarks here and there - it was often unclear to others what he wanted aside from attention. But there was one thing he desired more at the moment than that. He wanted you. Although he had engaged in conversation with you a few times already, he was growing impatient.

There were many things he wanted of you. He would start with your blood. All he needed was your consent...

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Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated. Please engage with this post if you want me to continue writing. I hope you enjoyed it!

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I was raised without any religion which I liked very well. Throughout my life people have tried to inform me about their religion and I end up deeply resenting it. I’m good. I’m vibing. I’m staying in my lane. I’ve also had more than enough microaggressions for being queer that I get skittish around people who are especially devout.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety as much as possible.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

[seventhcallisto]

PROLOGUE

—Deep Down.

Toc/cw; scenting. omega in heat. talk of s3x. featuring alpha g-idle. Language. Mature Content! Talk of gender, sex, and the weird system that a/b/o roles have, including the terrible hierarchy system. It's my series so I make my own rules, period!

Never, absolutely never, does a person get their second sex when they're born. It's no surprise they get it towards puberty, yet the majority of times, heats or ruts do not start happening until they're in their late teens- early twenties. Betas never went through that issue. They hardly ever were considered more than peace makers. For a while, they were the least chosen. While not as valuable as an alpha or as wonderful at comforting like an omega. There was still some dull middle ground. They weren't that special.

That was only for a bit, anyway. Eventually, omegas took that spot, lower on the hierarchy, whilst betas gained the middle place. You didn't agree with the system, though. It doesn't matter your second sex. It matters how you hold yourself, how you go about through life with a second sex.

And you stood by that for decades.

You took hold of a company and shaped yourself to fit their mold. Although a foreigner in this strange city, following a dream you didn't know you could grasp, you still went for it. You molded yourself to fit whatever they wanted. A calm, level-headed, peace-maker, beta. With a heart of fire and determination that'll set a field ablaze. You worked your ass off. Getting up as early as possible. Practicing. Making something of yourself. Training yourself. Learning the language.

Someone who could make even the quietest of omegas open up, and the loudest of alphas silent. You were a patient and composed person.

And when you came out on top, the very top, unreachable and untouchable, you knew you maxed out your potential. It was only then that you let it slip from your hands and into the grasp of another. You let them see what you could do, and now it was their turn.

They took it with stride. Quickly, you found yourself linked to a group you'd be a part of for life. You were surprised, to say the least.

"It smells like testosterone in here," you grimaced.

Eventually, you did get used to the stench of 8 alphas. Soon enough, you could actually smell their undertones. A mix of everything drowns every corner of the apartment you live in with them.

You were fairly the least popular in the group by a good amount. Sometimes, you chalked it up to people being oblivious. It never hurt you, why would it? You're a rare gem. Sometimes, it needs a light shined on it to really sparkle.

It's years later of cleaning up after messy alphas and teaching yourself tricks to get used to their behaviors, that you suddenly notice a difference in yourself.

"Hey, you smell different," seonghwa scruches his nose, a pleasantly surprised look on his face. You slip your shoes off in the doorway, closing it behind you. "New perfume," you reply, half hazerdly, sliding your keys into the key bowl. "I thought you liked your own scent?" He comes over and helps you with the handbag in your arm.

You hand it over to the taller guy, slipping your mask down your face. "I'm starting to stink, so i changed my perfume scent. Maybe your guys' stench is making me allergic, or I'm getting sick." You sigh tiredly when he hangs your jacket up in the closet. "No, not sick. I know what you smell like when you're sick," seonghwas eyebrows scrunch.

"You smell.. sweeter.. have you been hanging out with any omegas lately?" He questions, folding his arms over his chest. His white sweater is rolled up his arms, and his black pants hang loosely. Surely, if seonghwa is to lounge around, he's gonna do it with style. You laugh, avoiding his eyes when he catches you looking him up and down. "Ha, yeah, actually. I'm helping Kimmie prep for her heat. She plans to have a couple of mini devils running around this summer. Can you believe it?" You scoff, mentioning your long time once-trainee close friend who you grew attached too.

"Kimmie with kids, I would have never thought," you mumble under your breath, years ago you would of scoffed at the idea of young- impressionable kimmie, mature enough to consider having kids with her beta husband whom you also knew to be a trainee from before. Are you really getting that old? Seonghwa stares for a couple of seconds. His piercing eyes guide you up and down. You're staring back now. Seonghwa doesn't flinch. "Right, let's hope kim is ready for that," he laughs, and just like that, the tension breaks.

You both shuffle into the living room. Calling it a night.

Not even two days later, you're on the couch scrolling mindlessly on your phone whilst you wait for the guys to get dressed. The practice video for one of your group songs is soon. You've only been able to practice by yourself up until that point.

Yeosang takes a seat next to you, pushing you into his side. The alpha gently taps your leg to gain your attention. "What's up?" You put your phone down, giving him your full attention. "My scent is wearing off on you," he almost pouts. You smile, turning towards him and opening your arms. "Okay, c'mere." You beckon his face into your neck. Afterward, you let him take the lead.

It takes two seconds for you to realize he's not scenting you anymore. He didn't even start. "Yeosang?" You call out, threading your fingers on the back of his neck hairs. He hums, and it sounds so far away. His scent grows heavier. "You okay?" You attempt to pull back. he chases your neck. You can hear him breathing heavily, struggling to catch his breath after every strong inhale. His soft hand snakes around your neck, gently leaning your head the opposite way so he can get more room.

You follow, cause you trust your pack member. You can feel his mouth part, his lips drawing closer to your pulse. Your eyebrows furrowed. What are you doing? Obviously, something is up. You pull away from yeosangs grasp. Backing up just a bit. You put a hand to his chest to distance yourself. It's a few seconds before yeosang seems to come back, his foggy eyes focusing. "Sorry, I.. you smell really different lately," he admits, twisting his fingers in his lap.

"How so?" You question him. "Like.. sweeter. I can smell it linger, deep down under our scents I can smell.. an omega," he admits, his eyebrows twitch down. You haven't been to Kimmies house since seonghwa asked, yet you've completely washed and cleaned yourself of her scent entirely. You don't know what to say.

"Well," you fold your legs into your lap. "I think I might be coming down with something, I changed my perfume. It could be that, too?" You can't tell if you're reassuring yourself or yeosang. He hums. His eyes search your front, glancing up at you and then down to your neck where your scent glands are. "Could you wear one of my shirts for practice? I didn't get to properly scent you, and it'd make me feel better. " his tone is more of a demand yet hes still a little shy with it. Behind his eyes, you can see the strange look he casts aside.

You smile wearily. "Sure."

Yeosang had picked a black shirt he wore very often. It took him a hot minute, but by the time you watched him go through everything in his closet, the guys were done and slipping on their shoes. Once he was satisfied with his choice, he handed it to you. A shirt that would be tight fit for yeosang hanged off you. The deepest scents you can pick out are cocoa butter and honeyed citrus, like lemonade. There's the distant scent of strong tea. The cocoa butter blends well into his scent, perfectly layered. Perfectly yeosang.

You took a deep enhale, liking the freshness of his smell. Not noticing the satisfactory smile on yeosangs face, you slipped off into his bathroom and exchanged your shirt for his. Leaving yours behind. Once you came out, you were surprised to still see him there. His scent is everywhere in this room, heavier than normal.

His eyes look your form up and down. You give a tiny spin, smiling awkwardly. Finally, his eyes meet yours, clouded with an unknown emotion. It's a few seconds of silence. You never break off eye contact.

"We're gonna be late!" Hongjoong shouts out from the front door. His voice echoes in the hallway, leading to yeosangs' room. Yeosang smiles, looking away. He makes haste to the door and leaves you. You let the breath out you were holding. What was that?

Practice takes a hard minute to start, the coolness of the room makes it easier to warm up. You're not sweating when you begin repeating steps, adjusting what you deem unfinished or sloppy. Not long does the heat kick into the room. You find yourself removing your hoodie.

"Let's get started" the manager hits the button on the camera, beginning the recording. Your eyes follow your own movement. All of ateez has said you're the ace of the group, in everything you do it seems well-executed. You doubt that sometimes.

Every move and every breath is conditioned from years of practice everyday 'til you couldn't feel your legs. Sometimes you'd go as far as to even run, dance, and jump in terrible stilletos. Which worked out in the end since the majority of the time you'd have to wear heels or platforms to match the height of the guys during every event and performance.

Sweat pools on your collar, your neck, and your forehead as you work across the room. You can smell every one of the guys as they pass around you, a flurry of scents clog your senses. You try to focus on the choreography.

You tried until your shoulder slams into someone, throwing you off balance and onto the hard wood floor. Your elbow bounces off the wood. You slide to a stop quickly. "Fuck!" you curse at the sting in your leg, hip, and ankle. The room grows extremely quiet, the music stops as quickly. Mingi bends down to your level, shock still evident on his face. "Sorry! shit, my bad, are you okay?" He reaches for your head.

"Ow" you whine, like actually whine, instead of brushing it off like you normally would. Touching your elbow. You both simultaneously notice the blood dripping off your elbow. "Why aren't you watching where you're going!?" Yunho walks up to mingi. Mingi stands up from next to you. "I didn't do it on purpose!" Mingi defends, his jaw clenches. The two stare daggers, a tense standoff so sudden you don’t know truly if you falling is the cause of it or if something else is at play. Hongjoong steps forward to stop them. A heated discussion begins.

Wooyoung and San stand back, Jaws clenched, at any moment they look ready to pounce. Yeosang stands with Seonghwa and Jongho, who look just as concerned about the growing argument, yet their faces murge into something completely different at the smell in the air.

It's something no one can put their finger on.

Your ever growing weirdly sweet scent is surprising to even you, your gut twists in an unsettled way. You don't look at their faces, trying to understand the smell and your sudden shift. What the hell is going on with you?

"Boys, out in the hallway now, please" Jongsik. The manager you've had for years steps forward. As the oldest in the room take charge, the guys looked challenged. "What about her!?" Yunho shouts out, fustrated. In the distance another aurgument begins. Mingi squats back down to your level, gently pulling your attention back to him with his hands on either side of your face. "it's not that bad, yeah? It's alright?" He wants to reassure you. "Mingi" you practically whine, pulling at his wrist. The smell of harsh and swirling emotions makes your nose scrunch, it's intense and somewhat intoxicating.

You're dizzy.

Jongsik stands firm. "Out!" He repeats himself pointing to the practice room door. He reaches for mingi's shoulder. He who pushes the older man off, standing abruptly.

Hongjoong, the pack leader, is the one that rounds up the boys and pushes them out, even mingi. Before he shuts the door. He looks at you. He's so tempted to just run back in, coddle you and wrap your elbow in bandages. Yet he closes the door anyways.

There's no defiance or whining from you. because jongsik is a beta, and already mated. He's taken on a fatherly role to you when he pulls you to your feet. "I don't feel good.." You slur. Placing a hand on your head.

"Hey, it's gonna be alright. We're gonna get you to the hospital, alright?"

You lay on an examination bed, squirming by yourself. Anxiously you wait twirling your hand around the bandage on your elbow.

"This is something we've never seen before." With your heightened hearing, you can feel they're talking about you.

"She showed signs of being a beta for years. How could something like this happen so suddenly? It's impossible." Whispers echo in your mind.

What the hell is going on?

"Hello," a doctor, also a lady, steps in. her face is covered with a mask. "I'm Dr Liana." You try to focus, but the ache in your stomach is distracting. "It seems to have been there for a while, most likely due to continuous, omega activities, from what my colleagues and I have assumed."

"Have you been noticing anything different from your usual routine?"

You recount what you can, anything you find weird yourself. And there's so many clues, like when you stole each hoodie and wore it from everyone for a week straight just because 'you wanted too'. Or how touchy you've been recently especially with hongjoong, your pack leader. The scent change, the continuous need to please your members and let them have their way lately.

How you, oh God, how you've started collecting everyone's clothing in your closet, you called it a clothing pile. It's a nest. You've been nesting.

You've been not so subtlety feeding this hunger within you.

Realization has dawned on you for the first time in a month. And after a few more tests, you've spent a total of two days in the hospital.

Once you're out, you're immediately escorted to a heat sanctuary. A common locked and secure place for omegas going into heat.

"What I'm hearing is you're about to go into heat. It'll be a difficult process for you considering you're a beta turned omega, and it's fairly late for you to be getting your first heat, but I'm sure there's plenty of options for you."

There were plenty of other options, yet you opted for the least embarrassing and least dreadful one. It was too late to take heat suppressants. Now, you're stuck in a somewhat luxurious hotel room with glorified room service and plenty of meds to sedate you for a week or less. They're actually so you can't feel the actual pain that comes with a heat without having a knot to sedate the feeling. If you really hoped you could sleep it off, you'd be dead wrong.

The specific question of; "do you have anyone in mind that could take care of you during your heat?" Really lingered. You thought about it. Maybe more than once, but you turned it down. No way. Nooo wayyyy. You wouldn't dare go past the first pack of alphas your mind landed on. Wouldn't even touch that book or open it in your minds eye.

Everything is very sensitive for the first day. You sweat a ton. You feel like you've lost weight, although you eat when you're not... 'foggy'. You feel the sweat pool at every corner of your temporary bed.

Anything you can get your hands on you pull, hard, and rip and tear. A pile of blankets and pillows are strewn on the floor in one giant large pile. Every once in a while you'll come back to your senses and childishly get upset at what you're doing.

No you've got nothing against omegas. You just didn't ask to be one, so therefore you're mad about being one.

Once satisfied, you spraw out and get to working on yourself with whatever you can, clothes and all. Toys. Plugs. Lube. You would have never guessed you'd end up this way. You name it, and they have it. They say there's nothing more satisfying than a knot, yet you don't enjoy the idea of what comes after. Pups? Ew. Is there even anything to counteract that? How do people just sleep with a stranger during a heat and not feel scared about what will happen in the moment? There's nothing wrong with it. It's just not your particular cup of tea.

As a beta, or.. when you were one, it wasn't very hard to find someone to hook up with. Betas have the abilities to hook up with anyone, alphas, omegas, and other betas. Although pregnancies and knotting aren't as easy for betas(you're not a big fan of wrapping it) it'll work eventually if tried enough. There's this middle ground for betas who can have it all. Relationships get difficult when you aren't as drawn to each other as an alpha and omega are, but with patience, it'll work.

There's this gross scent lingering under your skin, you can still smell the scent of your old skin, the beta you once were is suddenly being washed away by a sweet, tropical smell, an omega in full bloom. It's your second day. Yet you couldn't get more miserable. Two or three more days of this? Seriously.

You've never been a girly girl, begging for your way or kissing up to get it. You were commonly told you were a tomboy growing up. Maybe that played its role on your first designated sex. Your company pushed that role, too. Tough girl act. Rapper, Dancer. Never the face of the group. But you weren't complaining. You were the top of top trainees. Nothing could beat you down.

Yet, dressing up in baggy clothes and never looking sexually appealing was your role in the group. Tomboy rapper. Compared to the beginning of fourth gen, you were considered a girl crush but nothing else. least lines, least screen time, least roles. I mean. You trained for this, right?

Now you're stuck with a new second gender you didn't ask for. Pushing you farther behind the scenes. Just your luck.

As soon as your first heat ends. You realize you weren't as bad. Apparently, the first heat ever is the easiest. You're supposed to get worse. Seriously. Worse? God. You can't take this. You go to the only people you know won't make a big deal out of your new.. thing.

Soyeon places a hot cup of tea right in front of you. And you can smell the scent suppressant coming from the steam. "this is supposed to help?" You sniff at it warily, grimacing at the factory like smell.

"You came to us, at our dorm, smelling like the biggest ball of 'fuck me please', take it or leave it." She clicks her tongue at you, propped up on her bed. Minnie takes a seat opposite of you, as does shuhua. "You cant even smell me, you're on scent suppressants" you groan, swirling the tea. "How do yall cope." You sigh and chug the content of the large tea cup. Soyeon laughs, minnie grimaces, and despite having a shocked look, shuhua pumps her fist in encouragement.

You've come to the group of alpha women cause, well, they're your best friends. And they're the most encouraging about any and all supplements and suppressants. They've single handedly encouraged everyone you know to take suppressants. From the front door, you hear it open and close, stepping down the hallway comes yuqi and miyeon, who do a double take.

Yuqi takes a giant whiff, and her eyes bulge. "What happened to you!?" She coughs at the stench of omega. Something she doesn't find common in their room when you're around. Miyeon scoots to the side when Soojin pushes through with a cake of some sort and a tiny charcuterie board. She places it down in front of you. You can tell the alpha in her is desperately trying to please you.

"Somehow, our poor, once beta, girl friend has changed sex." Soyeon speaks through a bite of twizzlers. You don't comment at her choice of words. Yuqi and Miyeon scoot into the room, staring at their doting member.

"There you go." Soojin pats your head and takes a seat on the bean bag in front of you. "Thanks," you sigh, digging in. The cake, which soojin explains, is a long-lasting scent changer. Magic is baked into every bite.

As for the charcuterie board. It's just something to get you some protein with the lack of good supplements in your system. In her eyes, you've lost at least half of your body weight. You haven't. Yet she's still encouraging you to take care of yourself from such a rushed heat.

"Poor girl," miyeon sighs, "I've never heard of that happening to anyone before. How's that even possible?" She takes to removing her hoodie and placing it down properly. Yuqi shuffles off her bag. Plopping onto the bed next to you. "How'd the guys react?" She steals a piece of meat from your board.

"I haven't told them" you sigh, the room goes silent.

"That's fucked up" yuqi laughs. Miyeon slaps her ankle. "So we're the first to know?" Shuhua confirms, you nod. "Wow, I'm sure they'll be happy about that," soyeon laughs lightly. You tear your eyes off shuhua. "What do you mean by that?" You clearly speak, eyebrows pulled down. Minnie places a hand on your ankle to get your attention. "Well, we're your girl pack. We'll always be your girl pack." she looks nervous.

"But the last time I hung out with you, your boys stared at me like I was an intruder in their territory." she pats your ankle. Your eyebrows pull taunt. You want to defend them. "What? No way.." You truly think about it. "Whatever you say, your boys aren't as good as we are at keeping up with our contribution to not being alpha whores" soyeon sighs pushing to sit up. "Especially mingi, he's the whoriest of them all, he goes into rut every week it seems. He needs a heavy dose of rut suppressants." she takes another chunk off her twizzler.

"You shouldn't feel obligated to tell them first. Butt.. you shouldn't be surprised when they get upset about you telling us first." The girls all nod. You fall back onto soyeons pillows. A puff of sandal wood and cinnamon surrounds you. Slowly dying down as the tea takes its hold on your heightened senses. "Maybe I should have thought this through," you rub at your eyes.

"You're always welcomed here." soojin clears your mind, patting her hand against your hip in a friendly gesture. "This won't change anything. You're still my- our best friend," soojin speaks on behalf of the girls. Everyone hums to confirm.

"Thanks," you say genuinely. "It's a bit late for you to get a drive all the way home, What'd the company say to the guys?" Miyeon perks up from the edge of the bed. "Something about me needing medical evaluation. I'm pretty sure they think I'm still in the hospital." Yuqi scoots up next to you. "Did you check your phone?"

You didn't even think about it, pulling it from your pocket. You try to power it on. "No, everything was rushed. I didn't have a chance to check anything before I had to give it up so I wouldn't expose the place I was at." The screen doesn't light up. It's completely dead.

"It's dead," you pass it to soojin, who already had her hand out to take it. She plugs it into soyeons charger. "Well, I guess you're stuck here." Shuhua and yuqi topple on top of you, squishing you into the mattress.

"Sleepover!"

The next morning, you wake up sore. Not because of anything the girls did but because of such a long trial of whatever you did to yourself in the haze of heat. You groan when you shift your hip, burying yourself closer to the center of the makeshift bed you made in the living room.

The night was full of movies and being doted on by every one of the girls. Things aren't supposed to change because of your new sex, and that's remained true. They just baby you a little bit more than usual. "Shuhua, 'mega! Come eat! Now!" Minnie yells from the kitchen. The nickname startles you, something you've never heard before is somewhat pleasent to your ears. There's stomping towards the living room. Your head slams back down onto the pillow, pretending to sleep.

"I know you're awake." yuqis smile can be heard through her words. You can't help the prying of your lip. "Nu-uh," you grin, eyes still closed. "Get up!" She jumps on you, pulling you into a suffocating hug that she wiggles around in. You laugh and pull her equally as close. After the struggle of a couple of seconds, your exhaustion returns. Your arms fall limply around her waist.

"You doing alright?" She asks, picking herself up and off of you so you can breathe. "Yeah, I just tired myself out this week." you laugh, embarrassed. "Don't worry," shuhua perks her head up from the couch next to you. "You should have heard when yuqi had her first rut," shuhua laughs menacingly, yuqi springs up. "Shut up!" She yells. "She wouldn't stop! All night and day! We had to quarantine the whole top floor!" Shuhuas words stop on occasion when yuqi is wrestling to cover her mouth. You laugh at them.

"Hey," soojin stands over, ignoring her members. "Hi," you smile back. "Hungry?" She lends you her hand, pulling you up off the floor. "Starved," you take it, embracing her rose filled scent.

A platter of delicious food is placed right in front of you. Breakfast in their apartment is somewhat new to you. You've never really been able to stay long when you visit. Maybe you're starting to realize the guys have a stronger hold on you than you thought. Speaking of the guys. As soon as you finish your plate, Soojin places your phone down in front of you. The screen is still black, signaling she hasn't turned it on.

"You're gonna want to answer your boy toys before they stalk you down themselves," soyeon gestures. She's not wrong.

You power your phone on and let it reboot for a second. Yuqi is still eating with shuhua, talking to miyeon and minnie about something you don't pay attention to. Your phone makes a continuous notification sound when all of your messages pop up.

104 missed messages. 32 missed calls.

You're in deep shit.

Taglist: @0325tiny @bratty-tingz @lelaleleb

(Thank you for reading ♡)

[knightofgoetia]

Netflix's DMC cartoon critique.

This critique in particular will (try) to focus on why this adaptation didn't even try to work as an adaptation. It's a negative critique, at least 95% of it is. Mind you, I'll be as respectful as I can be with it. I won't throw literal insults nor saying something is "shit" without giving an argument beforehand — but given the impact the Devil May Cry series had into my life, I'm afraid that I may slip one or two times regarding that. Maybe four or five. Or twenty or thirty.

So, if you're an avid defender of the show, you're actually very welcome to read it, and discuss my points if so. But do not take it as a personal attack towards you, nor people who have gotten into DMC with it. I'm trying to be as constructive here as possible — even if I know I won't, since I'll have lost my energy halfway through.

I am also calling it a cartoon, because that's what it is. 'Anime' is basically a cartoon, yes, but a specific type of cartoon from Japan. And I've never been that much into Japanese media regarding anime, but whenever western cartoons try to fit into that ��� it's just not it. But that's for another critique, not one for the DMC series in particular.

This will also be a very long post. If you don't feel like reading, then just scroll by, don't jump at me with the "i ain't reading all that" nonsense.

Once that has been cleared up, here are also some extras that are more of a personal thing of mine than elaborated critiques:

a) If you want a judgemental commentary on the series' showrunner and some examples of experiences the fanbase has had with him, go here.

b) If you want a personal point of view regarding Netflix, and how 'pieces of media' are consumed nowadays, go here.

— Other examples of criticisms that are not mine, but I believe were quite on point:

Example One. Example Two. Example three.

Now that I'm all set, I shall begin. Hopefully, I'll keep my tone down, but don't expect much from me in that regard. I tried.

— Part 1: USA centrism.

The "western audiences" are americans. USA americans, particularly, the rest of the continent isn't included either. And of course that I do get why, I'm not that naive, but the world is too big for "The West™" to be just the United States of America.

I think it's obvious by this point (and if you follow my classics blog, you know it), but I am from Europe. Particularly, Spain. I'm not saying in a "look at me, i'm important too" way, rather in a "just like me, the world is full of other countries that are not the USA". Western Europe is the "western audience" too, is it not? I cannot speak for all, obviously, but which part of these DMC series did not scream "made by americans for americans."

There's, and let me get this clear, absolutely NOTHING wrong with that. So why do I bring it up? Well, because it's not the first time a series that is originally set in either its own fictional world, or another part of the world that isn't USA — suddenly gets an adaptation where it IS set in USA. And maybe, just maybe, that makes it lose part of its charm.

Take, for example, when Hollywood announced (with no context whatsoever, and we still don't know anything else) and adaptation of 'La Casa de Bernarda Alba' that was going to be set in Miami, of all places. This work is set in the rural Spain of the early 20th century, and it's about the repression of women in 'the rural Spain' — so again, why would you set it in Miami, of all places? Is it just the place for recording for the sake of setting a place? Are you gonna make all of the scenarios artificial or something? If it's not rural Spain, the work has no meaning at all.

Same thing in DMC. I... I really don't need airplanes with "UNITED STATES OF AMERICA" written on them to remind myself where we are. I don't need to see the USA flag all the time. I don't need them to be in "glory to America" mode during it. Okay, you've taken liberties from the source material — does anything in special come from the show being set in America? No. That's the issue.

The gothic aesthetic, gone. It was already gone by DMC 5, I know, I'm not blind. But even in DMC 5 they keep *some* crumbs of it. Mainly with the first Dante missions. It's not the ideal, and I did miss it back in the game — but it's nowhere near close to the show.

The show's closest gothic aesthetic is the museum scene. Which, isn't good. Why... Why would you keep the Force Edge, which is technically an important artifact with, you see, powers, in a *museum*? Does USA not have any places they can take some crumbs such as ruins, at least, like in DMC 5?

Or... You could have just used another country to set the series in. Or none at all. DMC has had its inspirations, it's obvious, but they do not have the name of the country they're set in written all over the place.

The Resident Evil reference doesn't make up for it, either. Is... Is Redgrave just a bit too much of an edgy game for this, or... Well.

— Part 2: Analogy to the War on Terror.

This... This is gonna be tough. It is hurting me to write it as much as it was hurtful to watch.

So, let me get this straight... The oppressed minorities in this show are the demons. Demons who were made to look, to put it simple, not white.

You made, you know, *demons*. Demons that, according to the dictionary, are vile creatures that carry no humanity in them. Because if they had humanity, they would be human.

Cambridge Dictionary:

"an evil spirit."

Second Cambridge definition:

"a person who behaves very badly."

Oxford Dictionary:

"an evil spirit or devil, especially one thought to possess a person or act as a tormentor in hell."

Second Oxford definition:

"a cruel, evil, or unmanageable person."

Demons being an allegory of the Middle East... Why? Why would you want to portray "the oppressed" as demons, of all things? Making demons 'good' in the show isn't gonna change anything. They're demons. Demons, by definition, are not good.

This is like putting a lion and using it as an allegory for a vegan. A lion, by definition, is a carnivore. It's the animal's nature. You could instead, for example, use a deer — deers are herbivores, yes, but they do chew on bones they do find around to obtain essential minerals that are lacking in their vegetarian diet. In other words, a similar way that humans who are vegan take proteins or similar things to compensate for them not eating food of animal origin.

In this case, you could have used another fantasy race for the allegory — like fairies, who are by definition kind spirits that do nothing but mind their own business.

But not demons.

"They just can't survive in the demon realm, that's why they come to the human world." Look at me. Look at me when you're saying that. The demons are refugees. Demons. de-mons.

"All we're trying to do is survive." Okay. No. Not really. What do demons even need to survive? Do they feed like humans? How is it that they die like humans? The show is trying really hard to make you sympathize with beings that are, by definition, bad ! Making it an allegory to the War On Terror it not making them look good !! For the love of god, they're DEMONS. Just— Just WHY would you choose *demons* to make such an alegory?!

Just... Imagine knowing (or being part of) those affected by the atrocities the show based the Hell invasion on... And then be represented as demons. Minorities that are ALREADY being categorized as demons in our real world by a bunch of fascists... And you portray them like that in a show based on a series that has absolutely nothing to do with that. What's not clicking?

You're not making this point any valid at all if the humans (or, well, americans) are fighting against... Well ! A threat !! Sure, make the 'oppressed' guys demons, make them a reason for humanity to fight against them. Who am I supposed to sympathize with in here... And why? Because "demons fleeing hell because they're treated horribly by their own home" is really not the best way to approach an allegory of AN EVENT OF THE REAL WORLD.

... Playing 'American Idiot' was certainly a choice. But we'll get to the music later. Let's just say that, my guy, isn't this scene supposed to have a dramatic impact on the characters and the viewer? We're watching the (technically) oppressed being in the show being BOMBED AND KILLED and you play "American Idiot". Isn't this like playing a Lady Gaga song during a massacre?

The 'good' demons in DMC are the exception to the norm. And those few 'good' demons don't want to live as demons AND they can't live as demons. The moment you act like a human, YOU ARE a human. That's why Sparda had a human form in the games !

I don't need a story about why the actual american fucking government is bad — sir, I'm very aware ! The showrunner literally should know if he goes around posting this stuff.

Sooo the victim of american imperialism is... Hell? As in. The thing. Were. Bad things occur. There was an attempt, I suppose. Oh. And this happened, too.

— Part 3: ... Lady. Or 'Mary Arkham'.

*sigh* DMC3 spoilers ahead, just in case.

First of all, it's Mary Ann Arkham. Why the 'Ann' is being removed is something I don't get. You're here praising that this new Lady is 'feminist' while the original 'wasn't', and you remove her mother's name, but keep her father's name? Sure, go ahead.

Lady went through half of DMC3 without saying her name. "I don't have a name" has a meaning, and it's that she hasn't been able to find an identity after seeing her mother being killed by her father in a search for power to become a demon. How do you process that in so little time? "Lady" comes from Dante. He said it once, "okay lady", and that was enough to have an impact on her. Because this is Dante. Half-demon, half-human, who has (who knew) family issues just like her. And just as bad.

If Arkham managed to manipulate her with his supposed death in the game, it was because he is still her father. No matter what evil he does, he is her father. And she's never moving on from killing him. Never. Ever. You can't move on from that. It's not a matter of 'moving on', in any case. Just like Dante was never able to fully move on from Vergil's drop into Hell, no matter how hard he had tried.

Meanwhile, Arkham dies when turning himself into a demon. He murders Kalina Ann for nothing. Lady's hatred towards demons stays in the show like that, but... But what is she even looking for after this? To eradicate all demons in the world since her parents died due to, technically, them?

"Maybe a devil may cry when he loses a loved one, don't you think?" That's one of the most iconic lines to come out of the whole franchise that is at least 24 years old by now. Because, no, devils never cry — if a devil does cry, that's not a devil anymore. Lady existed to show how strong humans are without the need to have super strength, hubris or anything else that demons do have. Netflix's Lady doesn't show anything, she's just here to yell at us "yeah humans bad, blah blah blah".

Without power, who can you protect? Yes, true — but what's the point of having power when there's no one to protect? Lady wanted to kill her own father because of what he did, what he was about to do... To humanity. Her mother was gone because of that, and anyone else could be the next.

Netflix's Lady, on the other hand... A cop. A cop who I don't know what ideology she even has at this point. She spends the whole show shitting on demons and cursing all the cursing existing words in the English dictionary... then sees demon refugees and, well, apparently that changes her point of view... aaand then she betrays Dante. That's some interesting character development, she's evolving — just backwards.

You didn't need to make her 10 times stronger than Dante, for her to capture him easily, and to BLOW HIS HEAD WITH A BOMB. You don't need to turn the 'protagonist' into a bloody mess to show me how powerful the ¿heorine? is in this show. If she's 10 times more powerful than demons then — then why are they considered a threat in the first place? Not to mention her swearing, because remember kids, this is for adults, in case you didn't notice. Gore and gore, swears and swears. She genuinely said 'fuck' in four sentences IN A ROW. Not even I with my anger issues swear this much.

She just commits police brutality all around because "america bad" and all that, I get it — but again, her character *doesn't evolve* and the flashbacks do not explain her hatred towards demons either...? Yes, your father turned himself into one, but WHY would he, if demons are incredibly weak in this thing?

Oh, and, I'm afraid I do not recall her age in the show. In DMC3 she's supposed to be 16-18. I don't think she should be the leader of a DEMON HUNTING GROUP THAT COMMIT POLICE BRUTALITY with that age. The Vice President substitute being a groomer for Lady was... Also a choice !

Because humans bad, guys. You get it? Humans only do bad things and act without thinking. Demons... Apparently don't do that, I suppose? Genuinely why would Lady side with people who insist that "we as a nation can do better" and then proceed to colonize Hell. Of all places.

"devil spawn motherfucker" are. are you being serious. right now.

She's a genocidal sociopath (she was already a sociopath in her childhood flashbacks ! what !), and what was the point of Arkham in the backstory, anyways? And Kalina Ann? The rocket launcher was a fucking cameo.

Lady pointing a gun at people who haven't done shit ?? Okay ma'am. Why are you a fascist. What does this have to do with trauma anyways.

Her speech about Sparda? You CAN'T be dramatic when saying "he one day went 'hey this is evil as fuck'", that's not a speech, that's a damn Twitter post.

— Part 4: "Wacky woohoo pizza man".

Jeez. The protagonist not being protagonic sure is a choice as well. And the worst part? Dante is the least badly done in here — that doesn't mean he's the Holy Grail, either. This interpretation of him is just mediocre and forgetable, but better than awful, I guess.

He really just exists. Does he, like, do anything else besides the jokes? The jokes that are, mind you, not funny ! "Your mom" joke from DANTE? Please. PLEASE someone hold me before I say very, very bad things regarding that.

I get it, Shankar, you like pop culture. I get it, really. No need to shove it in my face. But he doesn't do anything else ! The fights have no point if he's gonna lose them anyways for no reason at all ! Why ! Is he ! So ! Weak ! What has he been up to since the damn childhood even of 'my mom died in front of my eyes'? How has he been a mercenary if, like, mercenaries have no plot relevance in here? What do you mean —i breathe in and out— what do you mean. What do you mean he 'got bored' of his missions. What do you fucking mean.

Ok, I get it, it's an AU, they can take liberties — Dante still would not do that. Like. No matter how well or bad he is characterized in any interpretation, he never leaves a mission unfinished, even more if someone is in danger. BUT OF COURSE NO ONE IS IN DANGER HERE BECAUSE DEMONS ARE GOOD BUDDIES WHO ARE BEING KILLED BY HUMANS BECAUSE HUMANS ARE BAD AND THE TRUE MONSTERS AND WE SHOULD GOT EXTINCT DID YOU GUYS GET THE MESSAGE —i breathe in and out— that sure was a way to simplify a character into... Comedic relief ! It's your protagonist, for the love of god. How did he go TWO whole episodes without appearing AT ALL.

Also, Dante not knowing he is half-demon was, once again, another choice ! So the government knows but he doesn't? They can explain that nonsense as much as they want to, it won't make sense to me even once.

WHAT was that Devil Trigger awakening. WHAT was that. Generic action scene for such a crucial moment in original Dante's life? Sure, take creative liberties — but what's the point of those liberties if the changes are gonna be boring and not changing anything in THE SHOW'S OWN PLOT at all? It just looks like the normal, average power-up the hero gets for no reason other than, well, being the hero.

— Part 5: Sparda and Eva.

I think that I've lost any sort of professionalism by now. I apologize. I promise I didn't want to sound like this.

But... Sparda being morally gray? Almost depicting him like some sort of fascist? What does that add to the plot, exactly???

Sparda, who, fell in love with a human woman and realized that his own kind were nothing but monsters. Sparda who rebelled against his own kind and HOME for the sake of the ones who were being killed while they did nothing but have the capacity to love ! That Sparda. A... "morally gray" character according to the script in this.

(the way the show describes him isn't even the definition of "morally gray", but there was an attempt in that intention i guess)

The design really doesn't help — and saying it has to be 'simple' so animators have less trouble is... Ridiculous. I'm pretty sure many complex designs have been animated before? You just pay people for the job and... That's it.

Not like he even showed that much, why waste so little in a figure that is supposed to haunt the narrative?

People saying he's... Hot? Are you guys being serious? Can you please raise your standards a bit? Things are more deep than a figure who haunts-the-narrative to be hot, holy shit, we're not fourteen (... most).

That's not "more simple so it's easier to animate" it's straight up badly done. What are those horns. What is that quality of the million dollar company. Help me.

ALSO. OF COURSE HE'S A "DEADBEAT" DAD. OF. FUCKING. COURSE. RIGHT. WE'RE ALL WITHOUT FATHERS. ALL RIGHT. YOU CAN'T HAVE A DRAMATIC BACKSTORY WITHOUT YOUR FATHER ABANDONING YOU THE MOMENT YOU ARE BORN.

Just why? The twins did know their father in the original story, he didn't disappear the moment they were born. Again, what does it add to the plot? So Dante doesn't know that he's half-demon? BUT SOMEHOW THE GOVERNMENT DOES? So you're telling me you threw into the trash his whole self loath regarding his nature, which is, like, a base of the character? DANTE, YOU HEAL VERY FAST, HOW THE HELL DO YOU NOT KNOW YOU ARE NOT FULLY HUMAN.

Take liberties my guy, but there's a difference between "taking liberties" and straight up changing the plot to the point it has absolutely none of the essence from the original source material besides the NAMES. It just makes it look like you grabbed the IP's name to gain attraction, because if not, the show wouldn't have as much interest.

Again, you picked a story that isn't yours, and tried to make it yours. As GRRM said: "there always seems to be someone on hands who thinks he can do better, eager to take the story and 'improve' on it. Then they make the story their own. They never make it better, though."

About Eva — well, I don't have much to say. It's one of the few things that followed the original narrative... And maybe that's why it wasn't bad ! Who knew ! Right. Who knew respecting the source would do well. Sucks that she haunts the narrative as little as Sparda in here. Being a "single mom" is her biggest trait in the show, instead of her whole symbolism back in the games. Are we being serious here.

How did she even raise the twins alone? What's her job? Is she rich? If so, why? Did Sparda leave her anything? 8 episodes and you couldn't even throw in a line for context? A LINE AS TO WHY DEMONS KILLED HER IN THE FIRST PLACE?

— Part 6: Secondary characters.

Lady's squad and Enzo, absolutely the most irrelevant thing I've seen in centuries. Their deaths hold little to no meaning. You could have removed them from the show and nothing would have changed at all. What were we even trying to achieve here? Didn't we say that humans bad? Why are their deaths supposed to be awful now? Weren't demons in the right? Weren't the demons fighting their oppressors? Make up your mind !

... And that's all. I guess that they fall under the same category as Dante. They're mediocre, not awfully bad. So I suppose that's part of the 5% that's not dreadful from the show.

And of course the deaths needed to be the most grotesque gore an american cartoon has ever shown. Because adult shows, am I right. DMC5 is the closest to that with the intro cutscene, and it carries way more impact.

(Enzo's design also sucks. But. Who am I to judge. And why does the squad look like DeviantArt OC's for the love of god. Girl what's that makeup.)

— Part 7: The White Rabbit.

He was my hope for this show. My damn "at least the villain will be intriguing and has the good design from the manga!" sort of hope. BUT NOPE ! His whole tale of vengance has absolutely no meaning like any conflict in this narrative ! Yeah ! Peak writing !

So. Why was this guy even here. His purpose in the manga was to bring Dante and Vergil together so he could get both amulets. If Vergil gave him his amulet willingly (Jesus Christ when I get to Vergil), why the hell did he go through the whole "down this rabbit hole" thing. What did he achieve. Dante is a weakling in this, he didn't need to take that much of an effort.

Was he just having fun being a furry? Guess I'll respect that, because they adaptated their design really well. Shock. A good thing from this mess.

Not to mention he turned out to be an OC that really didn't add anything to the plot aGAIN. SHOCK. I KNOW. He's a human and that makes Lady sympathize with him suddenly, instead of calling him a hypocrite for torturing demons as he experiments on them while saying he wants to save them ! SO SUDDENLY BY BEING HUMAN HER MIND CHANGES AGAIN? Girl get a grip.

Just look at how much Dante's ass gets beaten up buddy, you didn't need to go through all of that to get him, and the damn dialogues with Dante aren't helping either. They feel... Empty. Why was Dante trying to pull a "i can fix him" in this? Sir, my guy, my buddy, Dante, my dear — Lady immediatly agreed with the White Rabbit when he was revealed as a human. You can't fix anyone in this place.

Who is even supposed to be the antagonist in this show to begin with? Aren't humans bad and demons good? And that's the basis of the White Rabbit? But then demons bad because look how they react to humans and humans are being killed and the White Rabbit is a hypocrite, sort of? So demons are the good guys because they're being oppressed and just want to survive, but then apparently they'll only be "genocidal" if they step into the human world?

It's just one point contradicting the other. And taking the current real life events of the world... It's so painful to watch.

What a waste of a good design. WHAT. A. WASTE. The White Rabbit was so well animated and shown ! The voice acting was really good, too. It was one of my few hopes for the show, really ! But I am not defending an imcomplete villain... Or antagonist... Or whatever the furry is. I'm tired boss.

— Part 8: Vergil.

Eh. Where do I begin. It's been two days and I haven't recovered from the shock. The shock of seeing a character that was so well and beautifully written regarding traumatic experiences in a fucking action game... Being turned into a bootlicker towards the main villain. Or. One of the villains. I suppose. As if the writing was able to explain correctly everyone's role in this shithole.

Look. I tried. I really tried, I did. I promise I did ! I tried watching this twice ! Everything else, no matter how bad it was, was his own thing. Not my DMC whatsoever. Okay, cool, I can live with that. Yes, sure. I can accept the butchered Lady and Dante. I can accept the poorly written politics in it. I can accept incomplete villains due to inconsistencies.

But Vergil? Vergil??? The character blinded by trauma? The protagonist's other half? The Mr. i-am-haunted-by-a-past-i-cannot-go-back-to? The damn Mr. haunts-the-narrative-without-even-doing-anything? Mr. i-rather-slice-my-brother's-hand-rather-than-letting-him-follow-me-to-the-pits-of-hell-which-he-doesn't-deserve? MR. WHISPERING DANTE'S NAME WHEN HE WAS LOOKING AT HIS OWN REFLECTION ON THE YAMATO???

He wasn't just turned into a "generic villain" no. No, no, no. I would have wished it was that. Boy, do I wish.

WOW. JUST FUCKING WOW.

You guys are such good writers ! I can't believe I'm shitting on the "it was my father's fucking enemy who freed me" ! You made such a brilliant narrative compared to the original character who brought to us THOUSANDS OF ESSAYS and ACTUAL PSYCHOLOGISTS ANALYZING HIM regarding his whole story !

Now, trying to speak in a more... Serious way. If I can. I'm trying.

Nelo Angelo. One of my favorite concepts regarding Vergil's character. Imagine being enslaved like a mindless puppet for fighting for over a decade — and in here, that is turned into "oh no, this is just my powerful form after Mr. Bad Guy saved me because Mr. Bad Guy is absolutely awesome and he made me cool". Like. Not even antagonist or generic villain. He's the fucking "sidekick".

Is Mundus even supposed to be 'Mr. Bad Guy' in this IF DEMONS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE OPPRESSED. I DON'T GET IT. MAKE UP YOUR MIND. ESTOY CANSADO JEFE. APRENDED A ESCRIBIR GUIONES. SANTA MIERDA.

Imagine being able to recognize your brother after a decade of imprisonment in Hell, but he's not able to recognize you due to how much Mundus has changed you. Identical twins. The same face. The same blood. Identical twins. A single thing separated into two back in the mother's womb. But he doesn't recognize you due to how much you've changed. And that's when you realize what you have been turned into. That there is no way back for you.

But add the 'funny haha' line at the end, and you're done ! He's the storm that is approaching guys ! Like the meme ! Like the only line we know from the song ! He's so cool ! Despite the fact that he has none of the reasons to act the way he does behind that damn line !

Vergil is... A very particular character. He's very unique in the entire world of videogames as a whole. Just like Dante. Just like Lady. Just like Sparda. But unlike those three, he wasn't just turned into your "average western characters", he was turned into a trope. A trope.

'But what if being raised by Mundus turns out interesting? What is he's brainwashed?' You really think he would side with the ones who killed his family in the show?

'But what if he's infiltrating?' ah, yes, and killing other guys in the process. They really took the whole AU thing to an extreme and made a villain a "what if Mundus was just misunderstood? 🥴" and then ya'll will be with the 'we want villains who are evil just because back!'

— Part 9: Symbolism.

I think it's obvious that I'm growing tired by now. I tried to keep calm, but the more I think of it, the more infuriating it gets.

The soundtrack PLAYS NO ROLE in the narrative. Something that amazes me from DMC and the fact that it's an action game is: how the soundtrack tells things from the narrative. "Devils Never Cry" is an iconic song for a reason — and they went and used it for the ending. That... That was A Choice™ ! Once more !

Do the lyrics of "Devil Trigger" not mean anything to you? For you to throw it into Dante's awakening of his DT for the sake of it being a DT? Did you forget the implications that it has with Nero? Since you're putting odd covers instead of the original versions too, but not enough for the lyrics to change their meaning TO THE SCENE THEY PLAY IN — I guess bringing Evanescence into your amalgamation was too much already. And, see, this is the only good part of the soundtrack that made sense. Because wHO KNEW THAT MAKING AN ORIGINAL SONG WAS BETTER THAN BUTCHERING ALREADY EXISTING ONES. WHO KNEW HUH.

WHY IS BURY THE LIGHT THERE. I don't care if it's popular, it has a MEANING and that meaning has been straight up butchered in the show. The show it's a different thing, I know, it's an AU, I know... But for the love of god that's like putting a Sabrina Carpenter song while a character is being killed or something.

What role did the Plasma even have in here? Why did it take Vergil's appearance if it didn't do anything to Dante at all? It lasted for three seconds. And was never brought up again. Sure, it was brought to show 'hey Vergil is actually alive because the Plasma can only mimic people who are alive!' Why... Why would he still do that with Dante. What's the point.

None of that symbolism is seen in the designs, so what gives? None of the symbolism is seen in the weapons, so what gives? None of the symbolism is seen on the demons, SO WHAT GIVES? Why putting there demons like Echidna or Agni & Rudra, if you spent the 8 episodes showing demons looking as human as possible? So are you telling me only the demons that look human are the good ones? No shit ! Hadn't thought of that ! You need to be human to show HUMANITY ! What a shock !

"Crimson Cloud" is also there. I'm sure I heard it. And again, WHY is it here? Why do the lyrics not mean anything to you? You heard 'fight for your life' and called it a day, didn't you? Because this was just a paintball match but with actual weapons with people and demons killing each other all the time for genuinely no reason other than YAY BLOOD !

Isn't it hilarious how out of the 4 character themes from DMC 5, they didn't include DANTE's theme in particular. And if your argument is "Subhuman sucks" i'm gonna block you directly. That's one of my favorite songs ever. They didn't use "Subhuman" simply because the lyrics make no sense with this Dante. A Dante who didn't know he was half-demon, who didn't spend half of his life depressed and with self loathing due to his own nature — but then again, neither do the lyrics of "Bury the Light", "Devil Trigger" or "Crimson Cloud" fit what is being told... So? So what is the fucking excuse for not including it???? That it's "a bad song"? That is doesn't fit you 'I'm a 2000 guy yaaay' vibe? I'm gonna chop off your tongue.

Actually, no, no... I'm thankful that one of my favorite songs ever was actually NOT included in this thing, so that when I listen to it I don't remember that butchered version of Dante.

"We're here to entertain ourselves, not to read a book", okay, that's fair. Why don't they just do Generic Action Series Number 34™ and call it a day, then? Oh wait, I know, because taking advantage of an IP's popularity is nothing new ! We've been doing this since the oldest works from mankind ! Just HOW many times have I seen a 'classic' being turned into whatever the hell the modern viewer 'enjoys' watching — and it strips off the entire original meaning and concept THAT MADE THAT WORK A *CLASSIC* IN THE FIRST PLACE?

— Part 10 (and finally, last): Cameos.

I gave it a chance because I was told that Lucia showed up. My hopes got up. I thought that they had genuinely put thought into this thing. I thought that, even if it wasn't canon, it would show care and appreciation for the series... That it was 'a love letter to the series' as it had been promoted — but of course, I was proven wrong. Yet again.

So, uhhhhh we have the city from Resident Evil. Megaman for some reason. Nell Goldestein is only mentioned for that??? WHERE THE HELL ARE EBONY & IBORY. LORD. Lady's rocket launcher is used once, for the "point and yell" I suppose. Cindy flirting with Dante was... A choice, as well. And she has no roller skates, when that was a very cool detail for a secondary character ! And all the pop culture references are just *not* it. Even without the DMC skin on, that's yells 'how do you do, fellow kids' so much.

... Lucia appears for three seconds, and she's almost as pale as me.

Say sike right now. My guy, don't you, the showrunner, have that similar skin tone. I genuinely never thought I would be complaining about a SKIN TONE of a fictional character. But here we are.

That's not a lighting thing, my guy, she's in the complete darkness. A bit more and they would have thrown her into the "dark-skinned characters whose skin is grey". I haven't used the term 'whitewash' even once in my life, given how little I interact with fandoms. But, lmao, this is literally that. There's so little poc characters in the series — and you do this?

I wouldn't be surprised if they butchered Morrison into this thing and used the 2007 anime's design instead of the one from DMC 5. Because, out of ALL the things they can take from the 2007 anime, they will take the ugliest design there could possibly be in it !

(Please don't touch Patty. Stay away from her.)

My brother in Christ, you won't have me yelling and pointing at the screen thanks to "references". For the love of god, think about the writing first !

*deep breath* because, after all, this all would have been avoided with good writing ! Genuinely. The music and cameos could have been so fun, and fit so well, if your script wasn't absolute ass (saying that with all due respect, which is none).

— Personal addition.

The constructive and objective critique ends here. This last part is a more personal addition, given how THE series that has had such a big impact in my life has been turned into a generic action show, that is treated as the Holy Grail because people lack critical thinking and will consume anything that shows the protagonist's abs. I can't believe that's a defense argument. How are you guys so basic.

Well... Devil May Cry came into my life just about a year ago, thanks to a mutual. I still hold said person very dear to me, due to many reasons, but this being one of them. I had no idea about DMC, nothing. I only knew the protagonist's name and that it was an action game.

The memes always kept me away, because I thought it was about that, after all. Generic action game about combos and funny hahas. And I need lore, I need a story. I need something else to be in it.

It was this comment that I myself made back then when said mutual spoke to me about the series, that made me give *all* of the games a try:

I knew nothing. I didn't even know about Vergil's existence, for example. I genuinely went to the first game thinking it was going to be just "pew pew die evil creatures" or "Resident Evil with memes" ... And then Nelo Angelo appeared.

That's why netflix's choice of changing everything about that concept pissed me off so much. It's the concept that made me CONTINUE, that made me play THE REST OF THE GAMES. That showed me DMC was a damn Greek tragedy and not just a 'funny haha' meme shitshow !

From there, it just kept on increasing. Some downs here and there, due to a company's awful decisions of not giving enough time to get a game done, but overall, it surprised me how much these series affected me. I told my therapist about them. My therapist.

Any side material, even the niche ones, I searched through them all. Heck. Games, novels, artbooks, interviews, mangas... The Tony Redgrave concept was so impactful. Beryl is the love of my life. DMC3 got me crying over a video game, after almost seven years of that not happening again. The 2007 anime showed how much you can do with little budget.

The protagonist was someone I wasn't used to. The antagonist was a perfectly crafted character regarding all the good kind of stories that I enjoy. The female characters are an insane detail, I can't believe there's so many of them, and I absolutely adore them all.

... So. Take all of that creative series, that has had such a big impact on my life as much as the Odyssey, the epic poem, had on me when I was just 10, and has been stucked with me for a decade. Those creative series that are making me feel the same thing that epic poem made me feel as a child — and turn them into a generic action series, with little to no symbolism, with some sort of political message delivered wrong because it keeps contradicting itself.

And with people calling me 'retard' or 'tourist' or 'hater' or 'whiny bitch' for voicing these current thoughts. For people saying I'm being 'mean' to new fans, when I simply told them I don't get the hype over such a messed up plot — I even offered myself recommendations as to where to start with the series !

I guess this being my hyperfixation to the point where I couldn't do basic tasks, to the point it made my chest physically hurt, to the point it made me cry just thinking about it, to the point of losing my breath when I was (supposed to be) talking about it to a friend casually — none of that matters to them. I'm being mean for trying to get them into the series that changed my life.

I'm not saying "anime only people you suck ass" no, I'm saying "for the love of god, don't shit on the original IP to praise the show".

I have to take what's given. Even if it's not even the bare minimum. Even if it's brought to us by an egocentric jackass. I have to enjoy it, because it's content. I'm being an 'ungrateful fan 'and a 'whiny bitch'.

I prefer not having any more content to play, read or watch, rather than to have bad content about said thing ! I don't need a retelling, nor a bootleg universe, nor an adaptation, to keep my interest going. I don't need it to be turned into a content farm to be satisfied. I liked what it had. What it had is what got me into the series.

I love Devil May Cry for what it meant, not for entertainment only.

And I tried to at least aceept the Netflix cartoon. I've watched it twice, to be able to write this precisely — or well, I tried, since at the second watch I stopped at episode 6. I couldn't. I can't. It feels disrespectful.

It makes me nauseous to see that someone is egocentric enough to claim that he is saving a series that... Didn't need any saving in the first place. "From the visionary mind of Adi Shankar" dude, dude that's not advertising. Get your head out of your own butt.

It's scary. Scary that this type of people have so much free time and money on their hands. There were a lot of things to 'adapt', as the word really means — and you picked not even one !

I'm not saying it has to be completely the same ! Not a 1:1 adaptation ! But it didn't need to strip the original meaning of WHY A DEVIL *MAY* CRY !

If you did enjoy it after reading this, I'm glad, I really am ! I'm very happy that you were able to see something marvelous in it that I didn't, that's beautiful and I'm very happy for you. (None of this last paragraph is sarcasm. Disclaimer.)

Albeit, maybe I was a bit too selfish, and dumb, to expect some extra content on the characters that have meant so much to me. That have both ruined and saved my life unironically. Maybe it's elitist to want that, maybe, I've never denied it.

Perhaps I'm overreacting. Perhaps it's just a silly cartoon. Perhaps.

But I wanted to cry like I did with DMC3 when I watched the series — and I didn't. I did cry... But of rage. Rage, frustration, and impotence.

Just consume. Pay. Praise the minimum effort. Wait for the next product. Repeat.

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!vampire x GN!Reader (HC’s)

Growing tired of a lonesome life he sets eyes on you but you can’t ever imagine yourself growing to love such a monster, he isn’t to worried believes you will come around at some point, he’s fine with waiting for a couple of centuries. For now he will just hang around and admire his first and only love; Possible Stockholm syndrome?

No one, not even you, will ever know why you were taken from your house in a beautiful but sleepy European town during dusk; but people came up with theory’s. Most agreed upon was you had been taken by the monster who’d been terrorising the village people for years now, and there was nothing they could do about it. So the case was closed, your loss mourned, then life went on thinking you were dead amongst the other random victims of the beast.

But to him you were anything but random or a victim for him to slaughter, only he knows ‘why you’. No one made it to the manor house, he resided in, alive not even him being dead himself; no one until you.

He’d kidnapped you fairly fuss-free, the only consequence was the nasty bump on the back of your head rendering you unconscious but manageable. He laid you in silks and vintage furs on a capacious bed with gold a painted frame and placed ice on your head in an attempt to soothe the ache in your skull.

You were scared into submission by the creature for the first few days - you could have mistaken it for the devil himself with red eyes that bored into your soul and sharp threatening teeth. He responded in short sentences, usually stern and held a disinterested expression that made his eyes look more menacing than he truly was. It was confusing to decipher what he wanted from you, he didn’t seem to want blood but neither to happy about your unwilling company.

“I wanted you, so I took you. Lets not complicate it”

You’d come to learn that he wasn’t unhappy with you at all that was just the sort of face he has, being isolated for uncountable years meant his emotional awareness and expressions had grown rusty to say the least. You’d learn he just liked to be in the same room as you, he didn’t toy with you or worse, he came to sit in the corner of your bed room one in a while and read or write while you busied yourself with one of the many things he gifted you (found laying around in a draw unused for many years) or slept.

In fact he let you get away with a lot like how you’d try everything from retaliating verbally or physically but he’d only respond with a scowl of disapproval or a strong grip around your wrist briefly to remind you just who he was. He knows all about the grieving process having been through it and seen people go through it over and over, so he’d let you grieve over your lost life but doesn’t appreciate when you get really rowdy; bringing you back to earth with tough-love.

...

At some point during the first year of being kidnapped you’d given into harsh-reality, noticing there was no chance of escape as he hears your every foot step, and that even if you did there would be nowhere to go. Seeing you become more obedient encouraged him to soften a bit more, to meet you in the middle, and you let him grow closer after noticing his intentions couldn’t be that bad since he had yet to hurt you or bite you.

There are still arguments, nights where it would all become to much for you and you’d blow up in a emotional rage, demanding you go home or ‘what his intentions are’ and why did it have to be you specifically. So he’d let you hit and shout until you grow tired and your throat sore, wordlessly he’d pull you into his chest where you’d be forced to stay for the next hour. Doesn’t really take anything to heart during these arguments, he knows -at most- a centuries time you will be happy and love him maybe as half as much as he loves you.

Other nights his frustrations get the best of him and he shouts back, demanding ‘you get used to it’ that your friends and family stopped looking for you long ago and he’s all you have now etc. You’d storm away to your bed and he’d sit frustrated in his chair for a while before quietly entering your room and joining you in your bed to hold you and whisper apology’s, making sure you fall into a peaceful sleep before he leaves.

Forced bonding through board and card games!

Of course he sleeps in a coffin, a luxurious one in the room next door to yours, and he wants nothing more than for you to sleep in there with him but wouldn’t bring it up until your inevitable turning where he make you a vampire just like him. You didn’t think he would let you die and leave him to wallow in heart break for the rest of eternity did you?

This man has had so much time on his hands that he’s messed around with most every hobby, most recently (almost a century) he’s taking a liking to the violin. Sometimes he plays while you sleep and no longer around to entertain him (downstairs, as far from your room to not bother you) and sometimes the muted melody wakes you up for a moment or weasels it’s way into the dream you are in. It comforts you a bit, chasing away the eerie silence followed by creaks and scratching of the old manor house that would make sleep harder to come by and even harder to keep.

[apolloarting]

ZIZKA TIME WOOHOO also i included some updates. I also want to thank @shmuel-ben-sarah-kcd2 for some really interesting ideas and discussions for this :D

I welcome any more people who want to share their own head canons and ideas on this silly AU

Pirate Zizka HCs :)

• Zizka is from poor family, in the Carribean who were fishermen. Then he became a very successful privateer for Queen Anne.

• this would be during the Queen Anne's war (part of the war of spanish succession) after, he had become a pirate to continue to cause harm to spanish vessel's

• Zizka refueses to attack British and Dutch vessels similarly to other historic pirates like Benjamin Hornigold. He is still a pirate as he raiding without a permit lmao.

• I do think he would get into arguments with the dry devil a lot over what ships they raid

• He is very skilled at navel combat and tactics as well as Trickery. He friendly signals to deceive, works at night, and uses ambushes to capture victems. Also lots and lots of canons.

• Zizka also uses captured enemy ships often, this helps with deception, just like in nabakov.

• Zizka probably learned some spanish, but he mostly faked an accent when talking to Capon.

• (During the seige of suchdol) He did comondeer peter of Piseks ship a man o war, along with 3 other ships

• He and katherine have a very loving relationship. I have no clue if this Kathrine becomes his wife later in the game. I want to believe she is because I am a romantic at heart and think it would be sweet, so for the sake of this au lets say she is.

• After the fight (on the way at Nabakov) Jan wears an eyepatch. It is just a bad scratch and heals, but later (after yk) the eye had to come out..

Updates:

I have decided on the historical context and setting of this au. Obviously it takes place in the Carribean, but i set it in the year 1714, a year after Queen Anne's war. This war was primarily fought between the British and Spanish/french (this works out supremely well due to a funny little french guy). Henry and Hans are sent to deliver a message to a spanish governor for post war peace negotiations, before being attacked by pirates.

Being based on real history, I am trying not to remove much of the Bohemian aspects of the characters and try to incorporate it as best I can. unfortunately, bohemia is land locked and didn't have its own Navy, so some characters to fit the narrative do have to be ultered. However the devils crew will pretty much be unchanged because they work beyond perfectly as pirates. But characters like Hans, Henry will be changed.

Hans is british born noble who immigrated to the Carribean at a young age. Henry was born in the Caribbean but Radzig is British.)

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil's Den

Chapter 49: In Which Devil's Come Out To Play Pt. 2

You can read this here also: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/159231340

You'd lost track of the cigarettes Alcina had burned through since the meeting began.

To be fair you'd not even glanced at the clock on the wall since the meeting began.

It had been a whirlwind. Constant interruptions and detours. Flinging, grabbing and shuffling of papers, documents, and items - and with so many people talking over one another trying to keep up with one conversation to the next rendered you to simply sit in your seat, listen to what you could, and speak when you were spoken to. The heated exchanges would come and go; accusations, insinuations, insult exchange, jabs and plenty of unanswered questions that just continue to feed the flame of bickering.

You weren't entirely sure any of these vampires really wanted answers at all. They seemed so occupied in stirring the proverbial pot and tossing hypothesis after hypothesis that they weren't even looking at the evidence in front of their faces.

Mother Miranda had clearly done all the things Alcina and everyone else in the Shadowed Dominion's realm had said - why the fuck was there all this finger pointing and back and forth nonsense?

"I still blame whatever this perverted scheme of Mother Miranda's need to create the 'perfect vampire' on you, Alcina," Marguerite added into the cacophony of noise, "all this fall-apart started with that little human lover of yours; so many more regulations to be a vampire got thrown into place - then you were made a matriarch - Mother's long disappearances following afterwards - there hadn't been such an upset in the underworld until you - "

"Miranda's psychotic little episode that created this had nothing to do with Alcina," you butted it immediately, feeling Alcina's fire light once again at your side, "yes, she believed Alcina was her first real stepping stone to her perfect line of vampire, but that didn't go according to her plans - why do you think she became progressively obsessed with those vampire initiation tests? But this was all set into motion a long time ago, even before she murdered her own child for it."

For the first time in five hours there was a loud resounding silence that filled the room.

Every pair of eyes set on you.

No pressure.

"Excuse me?" Marguerite asked sharply, "and what exactly would you know abo -"

"Would you kindly shut your mouth for five minutes," Verona huffed as she leaned into the table, her fierce eyes shooting the woman's ego in the foot, "let her speak!" The gilded woman softened her face as she looked at you, nodding encouragingly, "please, you know something about Eva?"

You nodded in return and took a deep steadying breath looking around at everyone, "yes... Miranda told me she and Eva had great plans to become the strongest breed of vampire alive so that they could live amongst humans again. They wanted to overrun the human world, take control over it, and to be loved and worshipped like gods. But Eva fell in love with a human boy. Miranda was livid her daughter was more occupied with her feelings for him and no longer their plans, so she killed her."

More silence.

"When did she tell you this?" Verona inquired, heavily intrigued.

"While I was tied to a chair during her attempted takeover."

Another pause, until Verona took a very noticeable breath.

"You must understand, Eva's death has been at the silent speculation of most of our eldest kind for centuries... No one has ever known the truth. This reveal is shocking."

"Exceptionally," Belinda added, "Mother Miranda's greatest obsession was the love she held for her daughter. For her to kill her, it does not seem right."

Verona nodded, "no, perhaps not, but if this is what she told you - "

"Mon dieu," Marguerite cut in, "s'il vous plait, do you really expect us to believe she would reveal such a thing to you in this circumstance?"

"With whatever respect is due," you retorted without missing a beat, "yes, because she did."

Alcina, who was taking another very long drag off her cabriole, had leaned back in her chair to beckon Donna's attention at the back of the room, something was exchanged, and she then threw something into the middle of the table with a loud slapping thud.

"There." She stated with a large puff of smoke, pointing at a thick and very worn book in the center of the table, "in Miranda's own handwriting. A journal, one of many, stating everything you were just told and much more about her plans. Don't ever question the integrity of my companions word."

"Yeah, don't go getting your butthole all hurt because Miranda told her and not you." Karl interjected with a puff of his cigar that was hanging from his teeth.

Alcina almost choked on her own cigarette smoke. 

Karl snickered, "remember, she underestimated our fae-bae here and ended up dead and shit." His grin was aglow with pride. 

Pablo, not hiding his amusement was also smiling from ear to ear. And then with manicured eyebrows raised high to his hairline, reached for the article and plucked it from its spot, "and why wasn't this lovely bit of reading on the table to begin with?" He asked with a glittering smile.

Alcina's visage turned sharp, "because I knew the runaround of this circus would last several hours before anything productive would come of it. Now. Are we all finally ready to put the display of shit slinging aside and get to it, or will this fuckery continue for another five and a half hours?"

You supposed that once Alcina had pointed it out, the vampires decided they were indeed ready to put their feral egos in cages and move forward.

The next several hours were impressively and surprisingly productive. Retellings of what had taken place were told uninterrupted, evidence was looked over, conversation was coherent and almost wholly respectful. Though you did notice after the initial dust had settled, the only person who was more quiet than you was Auguste Winter. You don't think he said one thing through the entire gathering, nor did anyone seem to notice. Whether this was in character for him or not, it was odd. And no matter what, you still did not like how he looked at Alcina at any given moment.

The conclusion to this night ended with the much anticipated tour through Mother Miranda's hide-out adjacent the city. The visiting vampires were unnerved meeting the famous white-eyed mutated vampires they'd heard so much about. The army still stood in their assigned spots without movement, thought, or real awareness to much of anything. It hurt your heart in a way to see them like this. They were once people. Now, thanks to Miranda, they were shells of what was once a person, and not even granted the option of being a functioning vampire. You couldn't help but to feel compassion about the situation they ultimately had no control over. Your choice to allow the use of your blood to see if the vampire and lycan scientists could bring these mutants back into some semblance of normalcy was now at the forefront of your mind. It was a lofty decision but the push to make that choice was heavier for you now.  

As you were being escorted through the maze of mutants, a pronounced and displeased "hrmph" sounded from Marguerite causing everyone to look in her direction.

"This... is what Miranda deems to be a perfect vampire?" She questioned.

Karl's face was blank for about two-point five seconds before responding, "yeah, they're fuckin' quiet."

She hissed in return, "I don't recall asking for your input."

"Well no one asked for your fucking take on it either sugar-tits, Christ!" He barked right back.

Marguerite scoffed again, "these vampires don't seem like much of any threat at all - look at them - not a thing happening in their skulls."

"Hoo boy, something you and them have in common!" Karl huffed, "and you certainly don't listen for shit as to what we've been saying. Just because you can't wrap your puny mind around what went on down here doesn't discredit the rest of us who actually fought them! I have footage galore of the battle we waged - you can't image the fight they put up - these fuckers kept moving AFTER we blew 'em up! I would have loved to see you take one on at full strength."

"Miranda wanted an army she could control, loyal to her command and her alone," Alcina stepped in, "and that's exactly what she made. Can we please keep going?"

Dmitri nodded when Alcina turned her unamused visage towards him and immediately moved on.

As the entourage of vampires finally made their way back to the city after the tour, Alcina and you brought up the rear; your arm was securely fastened in hers and the walk was quiet for the both of you, the others were engulfed in their conversations masking your presence entirely which made it a comfortable journey. Alcina held you snugly close to her side, stealing a quick kiss atop your head as the final approach to the hall came into view.

You made your way off to the sidelines at the entrance of City Hall and observed in silence as the long-winded exchanges before heading off for the day continued. Ishaan was speaking with Alcina, Dmitri was deeply engrossed with Belinda and Emiliano, Marguerite and Pablo were gossiping you were sure, and you were happy to have your back pressed to the large stone pillar out of the way while everyone mingled.

"When this is all put to rest and you're settled, you must come visit me in Italy."

Came a voice that startled you.

Verona had come up from your left, arms folded comfortably across her middle and a warm smiling face with eyes shimmering and beaming at you.

"O-oh," you stammered as you stood more properly to address the woman, "Ms. Giordano - "

"Please," she said holding up a hand, "stuff that formality - call me Verona."

Returning the much bigger smile you felt your cheeks blush a little, "Verona," you repeated, trying to figure how to respond to her request, "that's very kind of you, but - "

"I won't take no for an answer," she interrupted still smiling, "Donna informs me you're part of the Dimitrescu and Beneviento family now so that means you are also mine. I'm a gracious host and you'll be treated like a queen in my city, my nieces can attest to such treatment as can Alcina. It would be an honor to have you... It's been too many years since they've visited so this will give me the extra leverage I need to get you all there."

Her wink was sweet and genuine and you couldn't help but smile, "well, it would be an honor to be hosted by you. Thank you."     "I believe I heard my name over here," Donna's voice sounded from behind you as she stepped out from shadows, "Verona I do hope you're not telling stories."

"Nonsense. Merely extending a well deserved invitation to my house."

"Now that is a treat I could look forward to." She grinned, squeezing your arm as she joined the two of you.

Verona tilted her head playfully, "your presence is also long overdue in my home, miss Donna."

"Then I suppose it will be a family affair."

"A family affair? Oo, I like those, am I invited also?"

Pablo had slunk himself into the conversation somehow and you all looked over at his toothy grin, his eyes gleaming madly at the three of you.

"You're about the only one outside of my beloved sorellas that has an open invitation, tesoro." Verona sighed with slight exasperation.  

He lit up, wrapped his arms around Verona's waist from behind and kissed her temple, "ahhh mi corazón, gracias hermosa. I've missed running amok in the catacombs of Italy with you. It's been too long. You remember the fun and mischief we used to get up to, si? Puro placer!" (ahhh my heart, thank you beautiful.) (Pure pleasure!)

You watched Verona's eye roll but also the very comfortable display or affection between the two and couldn't help your budding curiosity.

"But ah!" Pablo exclaimed turning his attention to you, "the fun we could all have!"

Verona slapped his arms that were still securely fastened to her waist, "assolutamente no, Alcina ti taglierebbe la testa." (absolutely not, Alcina would have your head.)

Pablo grumbled playfully and pressed his face deep into Verona's throat and kissed it fervently, a giggle sounding from her as he rest his chin upon her shoulder and looked at you once more, "you will come to Espania after Italia, no? If you're in the neighborhood, it would be rude not to visit."

Alcina's attention had been already tampered from Ishaan when she first saw Pablo out of her peripheral approach your group, but it was abruptly broken as she watched him leave Verona's side, claim your hand and bring it to his lips to pepper it with charming kisses, "Ishaan, pardon, but excuse me for a moment."

She didn't bother to wait for a response and with five long strides she was upon the scene in a blink, clearing her throat roughly, "Mister De La Rosa." She uttered pointedly, her eyes squinting slightly as he turned his gaze towards her.

Stiffly straightening his back, he risked one more brisk kiss to the back of your hand, "aiii, corro antes de ser azotada!"  (I must run before I get lashed!)

Pablo sped through that sentence so quickly it was hardly intelligible and skittered off in a flash without ever losing his smile.

"The ever insufferable flirt," Verona chuckled, "relax Alcina, we'd never let him get further."

Alcina reached for your hand now and graciously pulled you to her side.

It took another half hour for everyone to disperse after agreeing to the agenda of tomorrows trial for Ethan and Mia. You could not deny you were starting to get a little tired and Alcina was worn herself, it was almost 10 in the morning by now. She kept her arm securely around you as you trekked back to the manor, and you couldn't help but ask about what you saw between Pablo and Verona. Alcina explained they had been lovers at one point many years ago; Verona had been turned in 1837 at a ripe age of 62, and took on the Italian Matriarchy about 50 years later. Pablo was turned at 33 years of age in 1912. He and Verona met a couple years after; he was smitten on sight and chased her for a while, which she finally submitted to being caught in 1922. He was young and rambunctious and it made Verona feel alive, but he was also kind, charming, wickedly smart and a fast learner. Verona saw his potential and enjoyed having him at her side. They had a fiery love affair for roughly 6 years where he learned under Verona's reign, which in turn got him his spot on the clan throne in Spain after earning his respect with Mother Miranda in a large takeover. Ruling their prospective clans got in the way of their affair but they parted ways on pleasant and comfortable terms. They'd remained deeply caring friends ever since, though Pablo was always hinting about them reuniting.

"I honestly thought he batted for the other team, even though he was flirty." You confessed sheepishly.

Alcina smirked, "he does. He bats for every team. Pablo is a lover of anyone he finds attractive... And I mean anyone."

You glanced up at her and smirked, "did he ever make a pass at you?"

She returned your glance with a twisted grin, "once, and it did not go well for him."

All you could do was laugh, "oh please tell me this story!"

As Alcina was beaming with a radiant smile at your amusement and brief recollection of the events, her eyes caught something off about the entrance to the manor as it was coming into view, "draga, is that one of your birds perched on the gate?"

Turning your attention ahead, you narrowed your eyes. Yes, surely there was a large black object sat atop the towering steel gate.

"That's odd, none of them followed me down that I was aware of."

Your mind began to turn. 

Its large black wings spread and flapped happily upon your arrival and you smiled, studying its features in the dim haze of the day setting of the city lights you deduced who it was.

"Ebony, what on earth are you doing down here?"

You both received a few mellow caws as it shifted its head towards the manor, wordlessly ushering you to proceed. Alcina looked at you, you at her, and quickly made your way inside.

There was a bunch of chatter and laughter coming from the kitchen as you entered, neither of you stopped or said a word as you approached the sounds and to your utter astonishment, and Alcina's well hidden dismay, Malka was at the countertop with the girls gathered around a large basket.

Daniella was the first to notice you both and she hopped off her stool, "oh! Hi! Mother meet Malka!"

There was so much happening in your brain the utter fumbling catastrophe of thoughts about made you black out; you were befuddled Malka was here, curious beyond belief why she was here, and half amused beyond all reason and terrified how Alcina was about to react to this.

Luckily Malka could sense the colliding thoughts and emotions and in her brilliant wisdom and necessity to break the wavering tension, she chuckled.

"I do not mean to intrude, Lady Dimitrescu, and I will not be staying!" She smiled brightly, "I was merely dropping off some food for my ketzeleh she was supposed to get today when she came down... she did not however tell me she decided to make the trip early."

Malka winked at you and you felt pretty sheepish.

Alcina swallowed and straightened her posture in the most collected way imaginable, you could tell she was trying to find words but you figured this shock was plenty after today and you, too, should do a little damage control.

"Oh, Malka I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were getting a food basket together for me, otherwise I would have said something."

"It's alright though!" Daniella added, "she solved our grocery problem for you - that's what Bela and I were trying to do this morning while you were getting ready to leave, but we weren't sure what kinds of foods you liked, so we were lost, but Malka came to the rescue!"

You were smiling now but trying to keep composed, "h-how exactly?"

"Oh, Dani answered your phone when she called." Cassandra stated flatly.

Daniella's face went blank and you could watch the panic unfold in real time.

"W-well it was more of an accident," she began, "you left your phone on the counter, it rang, it scared me, and when I grabbed for it it just kind of answered itself and Malka just started talking so it would have been rude to hang up or not respond so - "

"It was all an honest mistake, but it did pan out in our favor," Bela recovered with a smile of her own, "we're very appreciative of her help and her unintentionally running our errands for us."

You wanted to start laughing but knew this was definitely not the time, so you nodded and went to hug your dear friend, "and you didn't have any trouble getting down here?"

"Mm, no. Dani gave her directions." Cassandra added as nonchalantly as before.

"Yes, the girls were very helpful as was Ebony." Malka hummed, "but as I said, I had not intended to stay as long as I have and I must really be on my way. My grandson has to leave my shop around noon to get to some business. So, my dearest ketzeleh I love you, be safe, text or call me whenever your time permits, and..." she took her gaze off you and turned her attention to Alcina who was remaining professionally composed, "it was a pleasure to have met your darling daughters, and an honor to glance upon the beauty of the Lady of the Underground. I hope we can have some time to really meet and get to know each other soon."

You watched as Malka bowed her head very gently and outstretched her hand for Alcina to shake. 

Brimming with far too many complicated emotions and words to count, Alcina took the old woman's hand and shook it gracefully, swallowing and returning a nod, "yes, yes as do I. Please, allow my daughters to escort you back to the church - "

"Oh, no need for that, I can find my way - "

"Please, Malka, I insist," Alcina said more firmly, though soft in nature, "it would grieve me terribly if something were to happen to you." She waved her hand at her girls and all three of them came promptly to Malka's side, "thank you for making the trip. Your generosity is greatly appreciated."

"You're not the only one who loves this very special girl." She winked, then looked to the girls at her side and held out her elbows, "alright me beauties, lead the way."

Daniella was the first to hook her arm in Malka's and Bela was next, goodbye's were given and the four of them were off.

The door closed to the manor and you waited a whole hell of a lot longer than you expected the silence to last, but you finally peered over to Alcina and cleared your throat.

"Yes?" Alcina replied coolly.

"You handled that really well, I'm proud of you."

She scoffed and before you could make a break for it she grabbed you and held you captive in her arms, "that was both wholly embarrassing and an unneeded shock to my system draga - "

"I'm sorry, I had no - "

"Yes, yes I know, you didn't know and how could either of us ever fathomed... however... I'm embarrassed she might think I'm a poor host not having sustenance for you in my home... It was piss poor planning on my part, but still."

"Piss poor," you repeated with a giggle, "you're starting to talk like me now."

Alcina grinned and kissed you feather light, "mmm, you're rubbing off on me in many ways."

"Even taking a liking to Malka, I see."

She narrowed her eyes, "well... she does seem sweet. She put herself in harms way to bring this to you so I can put my thorns aside for the time being."

"You can just put them away indefinitely, I promise."

"Fine. But please no more surprise visits, mm?"

You nodded.

"Good. Now, would you like to eat? I can prepare something for you."

Her offer was tempting, but you took your bottom lip between your teeth and let your gaze fall down to her figure, "well... honestly... what I would really like is to take you into your room and worship you in this dress. I can't tell you how it's haunted my dreams and fantasies since the moment we met."

Alcina's brows arched and her lips twisted into a coy smirk, "who am I to deny you your desires, draga mea?"

[yandereunsolved]

Hii Im not sure if youre taking requests rn but if you have the time I would love for a yandere Kit Walker hc set or a yandere post death Kyle Spencer fic where the reader tries to leave him at Misty’s :)

The Honey In My Honeycomb - ,, yandere Kit Walker pre and post Asylum

tw(s): yandere themes, mentions of baby trapping, mention of murder of child(ren), descriptive gore

♡ It all started out like a cheesy romance movie. Your car broke down, and Kit just happened to be driving by. He fixed your car and invited you back to his shop. He ended up changing your oil and tires for free. It evolved into the two of you dating shortly after. You never saw the warning signs—none of them. You never saw through Kit's honeyed words and his charming smile. You would have been better off if you just listened to that tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you to run while you still could.

♡ You were stuck at his shop all day. He had gone home to retrieve some tools and never came back. You got worried that something may have happened to him. You weren't prepared for the gory scene you found. A trail of blood led to your bedroom, where you found Kit passed out near the mutilated corpse of a woman. Your clothes were thrown all around him, and he was cuddling them in his sleep. You freaked out and shrieked, which woke him up. He desperately tried to explain it to you. He pleaded with you to just listen to him. You didn't. You ran and reported him to the police. A part of your mind did want to believe him. The more time that passed, the more you believed in his innocence. Only you were wrong. He did murder all those people that he was accused of killing—over fifteen. He did it all for you. That is the secret he will take to the grave with him.

♡ He was put in Briarcliff Asylum while awaiting his trial. You were allowed to visit him, although it terrified you. You had heard such bloodcurdling stories about that place from the few patients that had survived it. Your visits with him always had to be monitored. Sometimes, though, no one would. That confused you, but you never verbalized it. Kit just threatened to kill the nuns if they interrupted your time with him. All of the nuns thought he must have been possessed by some lust devil. He just could never seem to get enough of you. Day and night, the only thing that came out of his mouth was praise about you—how pretty you looked, how vulnerable you were, how he had to protect you from the vile world that threatened to taint your purity.

♡ It was irritating, really. Protecting your visage wasn't easy when so many people tried to interrupt him. He had to get rid of Grace. It was really her fault. She just shouldn't have been flirting with him. She shouldn't have tried to come onto him. She shouldn't have ignored his warnings. He said multiple times that he was a man who was happily dating such a beautiful thing as yourself. Grace just didn't seem to listen to that. She even had the gall to interrupt one of your meetings with each other. He was in the middle of showing you how much he missed you. That was the last straw.

He made it seem like it was Doctor Arden's fault with a botched sterilization. He can clean that up himself. He's a big boy, and Kit isn't helping. He can't make himself look guilty in any way, of course. He could never let you know how much of a monster he really was.

♡ He has kept a ring in his pocket since the day he met you. The ring belonged to his grandfather. It's practically a family heirloom. He so desperately wants to put it on your finger. He just wants everyone to know that you belong to him—his darlin', his one and only. The thing is extremely shiny, too. It'd look so good on your hand. 

♡ That's not the only jewelry he has for you. He has a lot more tucked away in his trusty, rusty old red tool box. He stole all of it from the people he killed for you. He plans on giving it all to you as wedding gifts. He'll fix all of the pieces, of course. He'll wipe the blood away and make sure none of it stains your beautiful figure. He also stole their money from their bank accounts. He has more than enough to keep you both financially stable until you die. He would never let his little house spouse work with some other man. The thought of it just makes his hand itch to reach for an axe. 

♡ He fantasizes about what your wedding would look like. You'd look like a god(dess) walking down the aisle toward him. You wouldn't need anyone but him and the priest. He would kill the priest after. You wouldn't know that. It's just that he can't let anybody see such a holy sight except for him. He wouldn't want to risk somebody making an off comment or lusting over your figure. 

Your body is yours and yours alone. It's also his, if you'll allow him to have it. 

He can't wait till the wedding night. He has it all planned out. After your dinner, you'll both bathe together. He'll set the mood. You both will have each other for the first time in marriage. It's something that makes his mouth water when he thinks about it.

♡ If you can get pregnant... He will immediately try for a baby with you. He just thinks your belly would look so adorable swollen up with a mixture of you and him. You'd be completely dependent on him. You wouldn't be able to leave, and he'd be the best father to your children. Not to mention, he can teach them how to be protective of you. It'll be absolutely perfect! You'll have no way to escape!

♡ If you are unable to get pregnant... Kit doesn't want you to worry. He'll just pick a random kid off the street if he needs to. He'll kidnap a baby from the hospital and say he adopted them. He could go the legal route for adoption as well, if that would better please you. Anything to keep you with him until you both die in each other's arms.

♡ He ideally wants anywhere from two to five kids. He's always wanted one girl and one boy. He'd ultimately want five because you'd never leave him all alone with five children. Sure, you could run off with two, three, and a slim chance of four, but five? No. You have absolutely no chance of escaping him, then. Unless you wanted to abandon them and him, that is. That's fine! He'll just threaten their lives. He'll kill one of them if it convinces you to stay. There are no lengths he wouldn't go to to prove his unending love for you.

♡ He already has your shared casket picked out. He picked it out within the first week of both of you dating. He's already written both of your wills with your future children in mind. He has the plot of land picked out and everything. He may not be a rich man, but he'd spend every penny he has to make sure your shared resting place is envious to the heavens.

♡ The day he is released is a day that will live in infamy within his mind. He finally knew that he had to tie you to him, both literally and figuratively. He understood how fickle humanity is. He needs to save you from the dangers and trauma he faced while in there. The same Kit that came into the asylum isn't the same one that came out. He's a lot more open about his obsessive and possessive tendencies. That crazed look in his hazel irises isn't clouded by his sweet and homey nature anymore. You could see it; you can see it now. You couldn't escape.

♡ He doesn't allow you to leave the house for the first few months. If you try to escape, then it'll be even longer before he allows you to roam free without many restraints. You are trapped within a prison of his own desire. He gaslights you into believing it's for the best. You know how dangerous the world is out there. He's been through the asylum. He knows. He just wants to protect you. Can't you see that? He's traumatized and wants to protect you from that trauma. So that means locking you away in your shared house and keeping you there. Don't worry about boredom. Kit will buy you anything that will make a smile appear on your features. He's addicted to it. You have no shortage of books and other trinkets to keep you entertained while he is out working. Just not anything that you could use to communicate with people. The last thing he needs is you getting that silly little idea in your head to call the police on him. 

♡ After about a year in captivity, assuming you haven't made numerous escape attempts, he'll propose to you and allow you to take short excursions with him. The wedding is just as he thought. It's just you, him, and the priest in the middle of the woods, only a few miles from your shared house. You may not have any guests or family, and he may have foraged the wedding certificate by signing fake people as witnesses, but your marriage is still real. A piece of paper doesn't define your love for each other. Of course, he murders the priest after. He chopped him up into tiny pieces with his axe, soaked his body in a mixture of chemicals, and then left those pieces of him at the bottom of lakes, rivers, and streams at least twenty miles away from the house. If you ask him what he's doing, he'll simply say that he's doing some spring cleaning. He's just taking out a bunch of old trash, that's all.

♡ Even when you gain more privileges, Kit still always has an eye on you. He's always close to you. He'll give you the illusion of space and privacy if he needs to. If you distance yourself too much from him, then he'll sweet talk you into letting him into your space once again. You don't feel good? It's because you haven't let him make you feel good in a while. You feel depressed because you aren't around him as much. You're isolating yourself from him. That's the problem. The problem is you. He'll be right here when you inevitably crawl back to him. He'll shush you and pepper kisses all along your body. You'll realize that you need him even more than he needs you. 

♡ Give it two to five years and a lot of begging, and he'll let you help him while he works. He doesn't let you do any hard labor or interact with the customers. No, honey, he keeps you safe and sound in the back of the shop. You can clean his tools, sort his things, and perhaps even handle the money if he trusts you enough. It may look mundane to most people, but you crave it. You've been starved of any autonomy for the past few years. Being able to control a small workplace is like being somewhere safe, somewhere without Kit. You can allow your mind to drift off and fool yourself into thinking that you are safe. You can just imagine that Kit is nowhere to be found. You can almost taste freedom on your tongue during those fleeting moments.

♡ If you ask for help from someone, he kills them and burns their bodies to ashes in the hearth in your home. He finds it extremely romantic. He'll cuddle into you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He'll nip at your skin and mark you up. He's just a bit jealous. He's just a little more possessive. He can't believe that you thought someone else was better than him. He can't believe you wanted to leave him. He'll show you how good you have it. He'll just have to show you again how good he makes you feel—inside and out. The vile dead bodies of the people who have tried to help you take you away from him will keep you both warm at night. He'll take you right in front of the fireplace. He'll claim you again near the sizzling embers of those who dared get near you.

♡ Kit Walker is still as in love with you as the day he laid eyes on you. He has fallen even further into the depths of his own obsession with you. He's ready to take the next step and start a family with you. He can't wait to see your little ones running around the home. He can't wait to see them graduate with you. He can't wait to grow old with you; his devotion to you never faltering. He just needs you to be with him forever, even into the afterlife. He loves you. He'd kill the devil and every god in existence if he had to, just to keep you in his arms forever more.

-‘๑’-

ׂׂૢ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @marchsfreakshow @violet1737

-‘๑’-

[hcgossips]

Career Ending

People here are trying to understand the circus. And, from what I see, he has been performing this fake partner-daddy role without really showing engagement in the plot, what is weird. Why stage it in first place, if he will clearly show he’s not engaged to it, making it seem it is Viscuso’s initiative?

The closer he got to it was with some scenographic kisses - after which he probably went home for a drinking night followed by vomiting and a lot of crying on the pillow until sleeping -, followed by some public appearances and pictures with a dog that doesn’t seem his. Straight men usually prefer big dogs.

He was trapped and subjected to humiliation for a reason. Since this PR stunt exploded, I noticed he might have been boycotted in Hollywood, performing small roles in insignificant movies (mostly from GR’s, a friend who apparently, has his back) and cameos as if starting over.

But, he was allowed to announce Supes to then, be publicly humiliated and discredited with the knews that actually, another actor would play the role. This, after being fired (my guess) from TW. Since this PR was turned public, he has lost roles and projects. And the articles about possible future projects are clickbait, so fans won’t notice what is really going on.

First, it was Supes (which became history, ‘cause he was replaced), than, HL and WH (nothing yet from both). Then, The Rosie Project, Bond, In the Grey, and HL again (after all, is he shooting it or not?). Then, WH again (that became history), now Bond again. The media jumps from one to the other and most articles seem a strategy, a fight he’s having to keep his name in the media.

But, apparently, if not for GR, he’s unemployed. The impression is that he’s being boycotted and trying to avoid fans from knowing what really happened. What happened to projects he was involved in with the Devil couple (DG and DJ)? And TW production might hold the secret. A plot in which a young and charming actor in the top of his career, works with two young actresses and potential affairs.

I remember in an interview, as he was passing the mic to Chalotra (apparently, Freya wasn’t present), how he intentionally, tries to flert, insinuating himself, touching her fingers as she tries to dodge. Link that to the comment a guy did on IG about going to the set to face Cavill for constantly, hitting on his girlfriend, when Cavill ran and hid.

Also, he treated Freya with indifference in at least, two different TW events as if wanting to publicly, put her in an uncomfortable situation (narsissistic). But, she was a lady in both moments. Those articles about him leaving TW production for a bad script adaptation, repeated over and over is a cover up and definitely, not the truth.

If these events with Freya and Chalotra aren’t part of a plan he thought of, long time ago (wouldn’t understand why), for clickbait, algorithm and to boost his image, the guy is probably suffering the consequences of something he did. Maybe he hits on women indiscriminately and may have trouble accepting a NO for an answer. Why the image of the gentleman he sells  is not convincing me anymore?

The way he spoke about being aroused and a colleague’s boobs in an interview was like listening to a complete dude bragging about being a man while acting like a kid who saw boobs for the first time. It gave me the vibe this gentleman may not be that gentlemanly.

And, these events could also indicate a reason to be fired from TW. I don’t believe he left for free will. This circus probably has an influent woman who set him up to give him a lesson so he could respect women. And it’s not Viscuso (used as a pawn), but a third person.

I might be wrong, but apparently, he’s going through the path of career ending, using all the weapons he has to keep the status and avoid fans from realizing he has been boycotted in Hollywood and screwed because of his own actions. Something odd happened and somebody wanted to give him a lesson and make him taste a little of his poison, showing him who is the boss.

Viscuso is a pawn used by both sides: used by who wanted to teach him a lesson telling him the kind of women he deserves, and by Cavill. Now, he has to stick to a wh*re and be her coadjuvant and coach, submitted to someone else’s will. Someone wants to teach him a lesson by decreasing his arrogance and trying to teach him some real humbleness.

But, he’s stubborn and this PR reveals more about him than he thinks. The impression is that he wants to pass the idea everything is all right and that Viscuso is, now kind of obligated to play a plot with a new script she wasn’t expecting.

He allowed her to prank by staging an engagement, but he never announced it nor denied it, supporting the narrative with the staged PR appearances. Both seem to be following different scripts. But, were they sexually involved? She is a h**ker from Mayhem, he’s a Hollywood escort, both lack self-pride and don’t seem to have moral standards. So, what do you think?

[auteureobscure]

Enigma [Jungkook ff] Trailer

Life was fun you were living it to its fullest, finally a chance away from home, it was like heaven. You did had an attitude back then but little did you know that in midst of all this you provoked the wrong person. It was not intentional rather you even had a little crush on him when you first saw him at the starting of your high school. You still vaguely remember seeing him for the first time on the stage participating in a debate competition where his way of speaking, his voice and attitude was what attracted you.

You never understood how he even gets all these girls, he was a pretty average looking boy with cute bunny teeth, messy hair coming to school in disrupted uniform. The thing which made him stood out was his attitude, an attitude boys were jealous of, the confidence with which he carried himself like he owns the place, the way he speaks his thoughts and can almost read anyone’s face. Sometimes his way of speaking sends chills down peoples spine as to how can someone at such a young age understands the world, the human psychology so well. He just knows the right words for every situation. He was a mystery to everyone, where he lives, his family, his past everything was such a mystery and honestly you never wanted to unfold it. Rumours were that he belonged to some powerful family from underworld, he would sometimes skip weeks of classes and then suddenly show up one fine day, a few times often he would show up with new fresh wound, sometimes with a grievous scar. After sometimes you even started believing these rumours about him, like somethings were really off about him so why not to believe this theory.

———————————————————————————————————

“Looks like you have nothing to say. Well then if you’ve any self respect left Jungkook then stay away from me or you’ll regret it. Farewell” you said quietly, your voice stiff and stern holding your back. Jungkook opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. He was stunned, not because of you but because of himself. How the hell did he allowed this to happen, how come he failed, how come someone questioned his self respect. He was not angry, he was fumed, he was conflicted, someone made him question his authority and he was not able to do anything, except to stare at her as she confidently making her way out of the room. A part of him wants to end it here only, finish her, strangle her to death, but another part of him the part he keeps hidden from the world is aching to take away that confidence of her, her passion, her desire, her self esteem everything. Jungkook wants to rip everything off of her before making her feel what actually loosing self respect looks like.

That unfortunate day as you made your way out of the room, sealing your fate inside, one mistake was about to cost you your everything. You were oblivious of the demon who left the house that day. He was not Jungkook, he was the devil himself who has set his eyes on its prey.

———————————————————————————————————-

“He..helppp. Who, who are you” you tried to shout but came in like a mewl. You were looking so pathetic right now, so powerless, so out of control, the only thing you wished for is all of this turn out to be a another nightmare and that when you wake up, you’ll be in the safety of your bed. Your body started to loose its consciousness, slowly you could feel yourself slipping away from reality. A few times he jolted your lifeless body up to keep you dragging, you can see the car in vision now. He opens the door to slowly place you on the backseat, he bends to pick up something you can feel is a rope. Wait he is tying you up with this rope. This is not a dream, you can feel the sharp surface of rope cutting through your skin.

“Please I’m sorry. Leave me alone” you begged flinching in pain as the ropes kept cutting your skin.

“Leave you? Baby I did not go through all this to leave you” he laughed under his breath and continued to tie your legs, you were left with nothing but to plead till he was finished tying you up. All this while you could only hear his huffs of air skin. He was trying his best not to snap and break your neck, your voice was infuriating him, his tensed muscles always clenching here and there.

“Tell do you remember me?” he suddenly snapped removing his mask. With the little luminescence squinting your eyes you looked at his visible silhouette. Your eyes widened in shock and terror. Your eyes didn’t wanted to believe you, your heart dropped to your stomach as you watched the person in front of you.

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If anyone wants to be a part of this fics taglist do inbox me or comment down here. XOXO

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Setting sun and sin

Frollo x nun!reader

warning : obsession, manipulation, blood, murder (nothing graphical), Frollo being a creep, no use of Y/n

Summary : The evening is still young and pairs of eyes have each settled on different bodies. The punishment of heaven and hell falls on someone and the judge throws his claws at the innocent in person unaware that another judge has already condemned him.

info : The start of my little frollo series i hope you like it as much as i did. Every sunday a new chapter there will be five so it will take a while to finish but there will be smut that much i can say ;) Have fun reading and this time committing sin is allowed.

masterlist

Part.2 , Part.3, Part.4, Part.5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What is sin if not love? What is love if not sin? Is it not the same as with each new rising that when the sun illuminates this earth created by God, its inhabitants, the people, are also drawn to another day full of sin and drawn to sin by the devil, a monster from the deepest darkness from hell.

But even when the sun lay over the earth and illuminated everything, it shone on the holy buildings, on the churches, monasteries and cathedrals, the cross high above blessed all and the stained glass windows drew lights of hope and figures of salvation.

It was such a place where only the saints and those praying for salvation met. The old archdeacon was a kind man with a pure heart, with compassion for his charges and a man who helped all people no matter where they came from or what they believed in.

But just as there was good in every city, there was always darkness, darkness that remained hidden, darkness in the alleys, in the streets full of filth and poverty. In the streets of thieves and robbers streets in which human abysses lurked.

But this darkness existed even in the highest instance of the city of Paris hidden in a man a man a judge the name everyone knew. But was this really the only thing lurking in the city of Paris that had a second face?

Could there really only be two monsters in Paris? Questions of faith of her own mind, however, she was not affected by his beautiful sun like an infinite light his life his desire to continue at all in this city.

A city full of sinners and hypocrites he was the only authority, even if this went round and round in his head like a mantra. So he couldn't get away from her since she came here from her former clsoter apart from Paris as far as he had access to the papers.

What beauty strayed into my realm that day and you will never leave again came to his mind as he looked at the Notre Dame Cathedral from the window of his abode.

The place where his pain of the past and his light resided, her brightness, her beautiful concealment under the nun's robe, who, to his sorrow, happily faced Quasimodo whenever she saw him.

A fact that pointed him to every sin he knew, every mortal sin he hated and hated she never had…but she was different she was sin itself. A beautiful creature in a city that contained nothing but scum.

But he had to sacrifice himself for all the poor souls, of course, but that was something he was willing to do, ,,How precious of me,” he murmured, turning away with one last look at the church, back to his desk, the dark wood on which were papers of the city's records, the candles flickering as his figure sat down on the upholstered chair and his ringed fingers reached for the quill.

A bright white soft quill dipped in the dark ink before he continued to write the signatures and orders. A task he had been doing for decades and could probably have done it in his sleep, but no. Of course, any other man would have taken a bribe at this point, given up his power and sat back.

But what a disgraceful act this would be, ,,Giving up power is something only the stupid ones do” he spoke his thoughts and didn't have to look at the rings worth a fortune just the tip of his wealth but he would never succumb to a sin of utter excess and immoderation to show off this splendor. Sins were for weak men, for monsters for creatures of their instincts not for him.

The way the ink on the paper had found its way and soaked into the rags like a dagger thrust, a dagger thrust of corruption, a portrait of weakness. No, no, nothing like that would happen to him, he knew that. While the pen continued to run over the paper for some time, his writing did not lose its flourish and he took sporadic sips from his goblet of dark wine.

Time passed and the city was filled with the noisy people trading and shopping at the market, a mass of people going about their day doing almost the same thing every day.

He prayed for salvation whenever the church called for a service and then celebrated when festivities were due.

A cykle he no longer needed, not as an inciting and dispelling force, not when the city guard was under his hand, not when he had power and not when he would see it.

Letting the pen glide over the paper one last time, he signed the last signature and folded the papers, giving a slight sigh of annoyance before releasing the chalice and opening the drawer of his writing desk. A small compartment for more ink or another silver tip for the quill but he reached for the familiar object.

The faint click of the pearls could be heard as they clinked together, the mother-of-pearl changing color from a creamy white to a turquoise and light violet.

Pearls that had been hand-sewn pearled like dark pearls harmonized with the three ruby pearls in between before the Christian counterpart ended with a golden cross.

White pearls like her innocence, the rubies like her untainted blood and the gold for the ring she will wear he thought with a wry smile before hiding the rose in his robe and walking out of his chambers to the stable attached to it. ,,My lord, good evening,” the stable boy greeted his master and looked from the black horse Snowball to the older one who gave him an annoyed look and pointed to the saddle with a wave of his hand.

,,I'll be back at night for a private meeting of the church. I want the food ready when I get back,” he said, ignoring the catty, submissive manner as he saw exactly how the smaller one was worrying in his head about what the best food was.

But so far he had always had something good made, maybe that was the reason why he hadn't ended up in the dungeon like his last one. But what did he care now, after a moment of wrestling and tightening the straps, he handed him the reins and Frollo swung himself onto his faithful companion.

He ignored the congratulations of his stable boy and moved to the reins before Snowball trotted off in the direction of the church. The clatter of horseshoes on the stone could be heard as the people who were out that early evening dodged him and bowed, but he paid them no heed.

His gaze was on the cathedral, seeing the cross illuminated by the setting sun, he knew she was here, knew she was always in the church at this time…he had watched her too many times for that. His horse rode through the streets and squares and it only took a few minutes before he brought Snowball to a halt with another tug on the reins.

Patting the animal lightly, he dismounted to make his way up the sacred stairs he had climbed all his life and yet ever since he had seen her, there was something truly divine about her. She was something divine. The slight squeak of the big old wooden doors let others know that another believer had entered.

His dark eyes immediately went to one of the statues, an altar to Mother Mary, where she always knelt and prayed for the poor, for the children, for the nuns and monks on their missionary journey. Moving quietly towards her, he waited at one of the pillars but his gaze did not even leave her form.

Despite her nonen habit she looked beautiful, on the contrary the fabric on her body the face which was framed by the white and black fabric the long skirt which nevertheless could not completely hide her pretty form. Her ankles not covered by stockings when she bent to pick something up he had seen her he had made an image of her.

Of a biblical beauty, of the soft, lovely eyes, the fine hands that must have been as soft as her whole body, the lips that curled into a smile whenever she played with the orphans and read stories.

Her voice was not too loud, not too soft, appropriate to her situation, yet knowing her place in society. A voice that drew him in so softly that sometimes he wanted to hear it break.

Her form under her clothes simply perfection like an angel an angel on earth and without wings it seemed as if Lucifer had already taken her wings and brought her here but he knew once she heard him she would bear his name and the gold on her finger would illuminate her in her holiness.

But he couldn't let his mind wander any further than that as she turned to him after she had finished her prayer and had an expression that was at first surprised and then neutral.

,,Good afternoon, Judge Frollo,“ she greeted him and made a slight curtsy which made him smile slightly and he made a bowing gesture, ,,Likewise to you I hope I have not disturbed your prayer?” he asked and looked briefly between himself and the saintly figure knowing that she could only pray partially knew that whenever her head looked down a little further she was lost in the prayers without the rosary. But why was she so nervous? She lacked the stability he could give her.

He saw exactly how she was overcome, her gaze fell for a moment on her hands, he saw that she had probably tried to use them to help her, but she didn't have fifty-nine beads and she just needed something to lead her back to God. ,,No-no you do not have that please don't be worried” she said and shook her head slightly the small wooden cross that lay on her chest moved slightly a cross she would take off when she had hers.

,,Is something bothering you my love?” he asked after her gaze avoided his again and she seemed to ask something, not quite trusting herself as if she didn't know if their “relationship” was ready. He came a step closer, suppressing his desire to lay a hand on her and reassure her that it was all right, but then his pretty holiness found her voice again.

,,My rosary it seems I have lost it…it helps me to pray better have you seen it?” she dared to ask and pointed lightly at her cross as if to confirm that she did not have it but he knew for a week that she did not have it not after he had it stolen. The wooden furs in his bedside cabinet were locked away just for himself.

He gave her a pitying look before raising his hand as if he had just thought of something, ,,Wait I have mine with me as a judge you always have to be prepared for anything” he said and smiled slightly because there was truth behind it you really had to be prepared for anything and always be one step ahead of a pretty naive little sheep as a wolf.

He pulled the rosary out of his robe and she heard surprised noises when she saw the more than normal rosary, such a thing was expensive and costly, something she could never afford.

She hastily stepped back a step and raised her hands slightly, ,,No, Judge Frollo, this is yours, I can't accept such a valuable thing, please, really,” she tried to convince him, but he had long since made up his mind.

This time he shook his head slightly, took her hand gently in his, felt that her skin was truly soft and placed the rosary in her hand, holding it for a moment before he closed his fingers around it.

,,I insist as judge and bearer that you can do the will of god properly“ he replied and saw her look at the rosary for a moment and then to him a look of infinite gratitude had settled on her eyes and a smile revealed itself to him ,,Have many thanks Frollo many thanks you are a truly holy savior” she said and he saw her wrap the pretty beads one by one around her hand as she held it.

He looked at her for a moment before heading back towards the main door and she followed him, knowing she had to go home.

Of course he knew. ,,How can I repay you?” she asked when they arrived at the door and his hands had opened it, the cool evening air coming slightly towards them and her skirt moving slightly, ,,A meal I would like to invite you for a meal to discuss the situation of the orphans”.

A sentence that made them even more confused but on the one hand happy that ma was taking care of the poor children and on the other hand almost intimidated by a meal. ,,Please, I insist,” he begged, this time placing a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment, feeling the warm body under the soft fabric.

A body that would belong to him. But she gave in, of course she did, she had too much respect for such a powerful man in her presence. The voice of her farewell, a soft sound wafting in the early evening, left him in her shadow.

He knew he could have accompanied her to her small apartment, knew he could have forced his way inside her walls, but why would the wolf strike so quickly when stalking and hunting was so much better?

His eyes didn't leave her form until she had passed into the streets, the sun seemed to have disappeared behind the cross, the gold in the air vanished and it would grow cold a chill that was in his heart except for her That fool better have prepared dinner he thought as he turned back to his horse and was about to mount Snowball when he snorted and jerked his head up. Fear. His animal was afraid, but of what?

Looking around not knowing if it was those tricky witches and wizards, those nefarious insects on the streets in their caravans. ,,Show yourselves in the name of the law of France!” he commanded, his voice echoing through the streets and it seemed as if the dark alleys were suddenly getting longer, darker and colder with every step he took away from his snowball back to the church.

His hand on the side of his robe feeling the dagger, knowing he was getting away with everything. ,,Show yourselves now!” he shouted it wasn't fear he felt it was uncertainty that someone didn't accept him. That his position was being questioned.

But then right there he saw a shadow from the dark not even a blink later he felt the hard stone of the stairs under his feet he stepped off or had he been pushed? Was it a shadow or had he seen those hideous hellish eyes, was it God's answer to his plan?

Or was it something else, what had that something been that had struck him with a dagger that almost broke his bones. His scream trying to escape his throat as he felt an unspeakable pain in his throat, a voice like a whisper entering his body, claws pinning him to the ground. He heard the neighing of Snowbald who did not know what was happening, who had the evil feeling.

But the judge of this something that could not be human finally let go of him in his state of seeing this creature. ,,The devil” his dry lips uttered as his hand pressed down on his neck to stop the bleeding after the underworld creature had bitten him, the words of the bible as close as he had ever gotten.

But those red eyes, the jet-black hair that blew in the non-existent wind, the white skin that kept heaving under the shadow that surrounded him, and those rice fangs sharp and deadly that were still bloody. ,,You will not get rid of them, my judge…such a monster within the church you are now…and your faith has called me Judge Claude Frollo” he heard the devil speak and as it stretched out a shadowy arm before the sound of beeping and fluttering could be heard.

Hundreds of bats swooped down on him and the swarm took his revenant master but the look of those red undead eyes he would not forget and with the bite…everyone knew the stories.

Not those of the devil but those of the revenant who rose from his graves to infest the living. His dark eyes with a slight sly daze searched the ground for the dagger and he lunged for it when he finally saw it.

His heart pounded like a drum as he pulled his collar down slightly and a sound of disbelief escaped him when he saw the bloody bite with the two dots.

But his lips did not curl into a grimace of fear, of fear that the devil had met him-no, not at all. The figure of the judge rose, staggering, the dagger firmly in his hand and a smile on his lips as he realized what God had rewarded him with, what the devil had blessed him with.

It was the judge's laughter that echoed through the dark alleys as he still laughed about it and couldn't contain himself as he realized what he was, as he realized that it would be so much easier now, that his stable boy was waiting for him and his heart made a sound that made Frollo grip the dagger tighter.

A melody that became a scream as the judge's own fangs dug into the younger man's body and he feasted on the new food…just as he would soon feast on her.

,,Thank God for casting me out and pray to the devil to lead you to me for your heart and his will be mine my love” he finished his last supper and threw the body into the haystack with a force he had not felt for many decades before the judge's laughter was reduced to a grin of madness and the door of the mighty man slid shut…but the night was far from over for Judge Claude Frollo and especially for his pretty nun, a world of darkness had only just begun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@magmabayvi , @missmannequin , @siwucha

@aliensthegreat , @oceansrose2002 , @fantadym

[maboroshi-no]

Hamefura LN 14 Bonus SS (Animate)

Series: My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom! Source: Light novel volume 14, Bonus paper Store: Animate Synopsis: Keith’s POV of some of his scenes with Katarina in Chapter 1 of LN14. Translation: maboroshi-no

Translation below ⮟

I, Keith Claes, was heading today to the castle by carriage with my older sister Katarina to attend the Sorcier Foundation Anniversary party.

Since Katarina had just been involved in a dangerous incident, I was uneasy about taking her to a place with many people. I wished the person herself would be careful… I took a look at Katarina sitting in front of me.

Looking out the window, she seemed to have been thinking of something for a while. She was probably thinking about what was coming next.

Katarina: What a shame…

Katarina suddenly said this.

Her thoughts most likely escaped her mouth. Katarina would sometimes do that but… What in the world had she been thinking about?

Keith: What is a shame?

When I asked this, the somewhat flustered Katarina said…

Katarina: Well… I was just thinking that it was such a waste that you didn't take advantage of that overflowing sexiness of yours. What a shame.

She said such a rude thing.

No one thought this more than me!

I was told by many women that I had incredible sexiness or something, some also got dazed when our eyes met, but it didn't affect at all the most crucial person: the one I loved.

Keith:  I don't take advantage of my sexiness? …...Well, you're completely right. Being told that right to my face somehow feels like a blow.

Even more so when it was my beloved herself who told me. It was way too sad.

Katarina: Sorry.

Katarina honestly apologized. It was just like her.

I awkwardly smiled, and…

Keith: It's too late to worry about it, so it's fine.

I readily forgave her. Then,

Keith: Since you were quiet, so I thought you were properly thinking about what's coming next. But it seems like I was completely wrong.

I threw in what I had been wondering about.

Katarina: Aah~ Umm, sorry.

Katarina's apology sounded like she was just saying it.

Based on this, she clearly didn't understand, so I pressed on.

Keith: Big Sister, do you understand that this is an important party we're going to?

Katarina: Hmm…Yes, I know that, but… I'll psych myself up and do it properly once we get to the party, so just let me relax for now. I'll only chill out when it is just the two of us. If I keep myself psyched at all times, I'll probably get exhausted right away since it's me we're talking about. Please!

Katarina said this with an upturned gaze and little wet eyes.

If she had aimed for that effect, she would have been a perfect villainess leading men by the nose, but she did it unconsciously, which was terrifying.

Faced with that unconscious villainess, I raised the white flag immediately.

Then, that unconscious villainess did it again afterward.

During the party, when I got irritated because I didn't like seeing Katarina being strangely perceptive of Geordo, she stroked my head, and…

Katarina: Your pouting was so cute that I unconsciously stroked it like in the olden days.

She said this and stuck out her tongue, which tested my reason. She was so cute that if I hadn't been in the party venue, I might have unconsciously taken her into an embrace.

Then, for the final, when we were alone in the resting room,

Katarina: You're really amazing, Keith.

Katarina: You've been diligently studying foreign countries and diligently using this knowledge in a public setting. You're so amazing and splendid.

Katarina: Even though you were so cute when you were little, you've become so cool and splendid…

She said something that sounded just like sweet words, then started defenselessly sleeping right in front of me!

To that Katarina,

Keith: You little devil! Villainess!

I reflexively shouted this in my heart.

While we were alone in a room, she said something like that and defenselessly fell asleep. I couldn't believe her.

I love you, you know? Not as my family but as a woman.

I properly voiced my feelings to her before. But she most likely completely forgot about it.

Still, there were many difficulties at the moment and Katarina also seemed to have some circumstances that she was hiding. She told me that once she sorted those out, she would properly consider my feelings. I had no choice but to wait for that first.

I walked to the sofa where Katarina was defenselessly sleeping, leaned in, and peered into her calm sleeping face.

I softly extended my hand and lightly touched her soft smooth cheek but she didn't seem to wake up at all.

She was really sound asleep.

At a time like this, if it had been Geordo, he might have kissed this sleeping beauty.

I fixedly stared at the pink lips in front of me.

Just once before, I had touched them with my lips and I already knew they were soft. 

I gently touched those soft lips with my finger, then brought my finger to my lips. An indirect kiss. It was the best the current me could do.

I somehow felt like I did something incredibly wrong, so heat rose on my face.

After a little while, the girls led by Mary irrupted in the room and drove me out. But until then, I enjoyed Katarina's sleeping face to my heart's content.

[da-shrimping-station]

Childish Jealousy L card

[ edit: i've read the card prologue and added my thoughts under the cut + a bit of a rant ]

my initial thoughts:

Just a shot in the dark yk,,,,

Will the card's H scene be them being a pair of high schoolers getting frisky in an empty classroom after school?

Yk, fucky wucky magic and Levi's personality aside

That's,,,,

That's pretty tame? Imo at least

Huh,,,,,

I've done and seen worse when i was in high school

childish jealousy is really a fitting name for this L card cuz that's the whole motivation for it 😭

can't believe he put the entirety of Gehenna castle to sleep and strut around like they own the place (also Foras splashing tea on the sleeping Sitri lmaoooo u bitch)

also saying that Asmodeus is in charge of regulating that particular substance,,,,,interesting

bruh Levi just Thanos snapped Minhyeok into non-existence jgjdhfjsnsndngkdn poor baby

so MC is mildly aware of what's going on

the pair go about the school day w MC being an absolute total klutz (idk if it's because of how the dream is set up or if that's how the day actually went but holy shit bestie how are you that disorganised????)

Levi acting like a disgruntled mom friend is not what i expected

o yea he also strangled a student but eeeehh 🤷‍♀️

"your heart goes thump when you're being as honest as a devil" something something,,,okayyy maybe that's when MC became more honest about their desires 🤔

and the dreamspace yeeted all the other students away

heh people really went off the rails when they saw the words "childish" and "Children's Day" on the banner without knowing the context

Children's Day was only mentioned in passing when MC was reminiscing and from the bit of research I did on the holiday, when kids turn 13, that's their last time to celebrate it cuz they're no longer children

so yea children have NOTHING to do w the event AT ALL (obviously) (i still stand by what i said in one of my reblogs re: this event when it was first announced)

so it really is just a role playing scenario in a school setting w some mild uniform kink maybe (i saw a post of part 2 and MC was turned back into an adult)

and like, they didn't even do anything when MC was their high school self 😭

eeeeyyyyy glad to know that my hunch was correct 🦐 still won't be pulling for this card but I appreciate the art and the ass hehehehe

[laineystein]

i personally don’t support war and find blindly serving any military awful. I don’t mean to be rude i just wonder why you think that defending israel is the only way to garuntee jewish safety? that feels like taking responsibility off of other countries and leaving diaspora jews vunerable. im really just anti military but this conflict has been awful and i hope for the safety of all jewish people israelis muslims and palestinians but no safety to a government of right wingers

I admire your bravery in reaching out when I don’t have anon turned on. Few would, so good on you.

First off, I’m not serving blindly. None of the soldiers I’m serving with are serving blindly. We all believe in what we’re doing and we’re going to keep doing it until the mission is done and all of our people are safe again. I could get into the nuances of conscription and reserves but I’m not going to. With confidence, succinctly, none of us are serving blindly. (I’m also employed by the IDF outside of reserves so I assure you that I, in particular, love my army and believe in what we stand for.)

I don’t *think* that defending Israel is the only way to guarantee Jewish safety. I know it is. We are a country surrounded by homicidal antisemites. Hamas has stated that they will continue doing what they did on October 7th until we cease to exist. There is no peace for the Israeli or Palestinian people with Hamas still in power. So we’re destroying their tunnels and we’re rooting them out and we’re here for our hostages. Let’s play devils advocate - if Israel didn’t exist do you all honestly think that Hamas and all other Iran proxies would just allow Jews and the Western world to live in peace? Because they wouldn’t. Y’all should be grateful that we’re here because if we weren’t, they’d be killing Jews elsewhere. Don’t let them fool you into believing this is about land. They. Hate. Jews. And Israel is the only place in the world where Jews can truly defend themselves. My grandfather survived the Holocaust BH and he always says that they didn’t have a way to defend themselves in the camps. They weren’t organized. They didn’t have weapons. They didn’t have the upper hand. Well now we’re organized and we’re armed and we’re trained. Never again will we be helpless - thanks to Israel.

“That feels like taking the responsibility off of other countries” - what responsibility? To protect Jews? To persecute Hamas? Feh! None of that will ever happen. Not once has any other country *saved* the Jewish people. And, actually, often times people are turning a blind eye to our persecution - like most of the world did on and after and ever since October 7th. Like they did during the Holocaust. Like they have every time Hamas and PIJ indiscriminately fire rockets at Israel. As I said, never again will our safety be in anyone else’s hands because the world has shown us time and time again that they do not care.

“Leaving diaspora Jews vulnerable” is an insane way to blame the victim. WE WERE ATTACKED. But do you think we needed to be attacked for people to hate Jews? No, this has just empowered them to do so out loud. There has always been a correlation between anti-Israel hate and violence against Jews in the diaspora. In May of 2021 when 4000+ rockets were fired into Israel, goyim in the diaspora took this as permission to act out their antisemitic fantasies. Again when WE WERE ATTACKED. Don’t forget - People were celebrating our massacre before Israel even set foot in Gaza. Don’t let the world fool you into thinking that Israel defending ourselves has created antisemitism in the diaspora, it’s only encouraged it.

I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume you are not Jewish. I don’t know how to explain this conflict to you - a conflict I have lived my entire life (like my parents and grandparents before me). I don’t know how to share my pain and grief and the pain and grief of my tribe in a way that will make sense. But I’m done needing to justify my existence as a Jew. Israel is done justifying its existence as the homeland of the Jewish people. History has shown us that our survival is our responsibility and I/we won’t apologize for it. The same people that are too cowardly to stand up for us when our people are killed and raped can keep their mouths shut when we defend ourselves.

And it seems like maybe you didn’t read this post that I shared today which really would have answered a lot of this without me needing to go on a sleep deprived rant.