#who is Samhain and what is his deal

[king-mera]

Sometimes I wish the Ghostbusters fandom had what the Disney fandom has (a subset of people obsessed with the villains)

[hopelessromantic5]

Merlin had been working for Arthur Pendragon for a year when something unusually strange happened.

This wasn’t “life-or-death-vengeful-magical-creature” strange. That happens every day.

No this oddity didn’t even involve Arthur.

The pompous prick had just left in storm of rage because Merlin was once again gone for days at a time and couldn’t give him a good enough answer as to where. Arthur knew Merlin was lying to him, and it was only a matter of time before the truth came to light, and Merlin’s life would be over.

He was still in Arthur’s chambers, in complete darkness. Body folded into a corner, with his arms wrapped around his knees that were being cradled by his chest.

He was sobbing.

Because life was so fucking unfair and he’s allowed to have a pity-party every once in a while. Merlin would say he’s entitled.

His sobs broke off into silence when a single candle lit itself, barely illuminating the room.

Merlin’s head popped up, wide eyed.

There was no one else. Just him.

And that had not been his magic.

Merlin was on his feet and ready for whatever was being hurled their way, this time.

They appeared, out of thin air.

Or she did.

A woman. With blonde hair cascading over over her thin shoulders. A deep green gown, that was beautiful but not embellished or bejeweled. And her eyes were like lakes, blue and too deep to see to the bottom.

Merlin’s breath was snatched from his throat as they stared at each other.

“Do not be afraid. I am not here to harm you.” She said, her voice was soft and melodic, the way Merlin imagined goddesses would speak.

“Who are you?” He whispered, before correcting. “What are you?”

“You can sense that I am not human?”

Merlin nodded, then narrowed his eyes, trying to put it together, but not quite having all the pieces.

“Every living thing gives off a vibration of sorts…a frequency… you give off nothing. As if you’re-“

“A ghost.” She smiled small but it held a secret joke that Merlin didn’t understand.

“You’re a ghost?” He questioned, further confused. “How are you here? It’s not anywhere near Samhain.”

Then the blonde woman’s eyes turned sad. And she turned to the window looking out at the lightless sky.

“There are some special cases.” She murmured. Then snapped her eyes back to him.

“But that is not why I’m here.”

Merlin’s eyebrows went up in expectation.

The woman’s expression turned to something that Merlin had only ever seen from his mother and Gaius. A sort of pity that’s shrouded in love.

She advanced on him and then settled her hands on his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, he could see the way she wasn’t completely opaque, but he felt her hands as if they were solid, flesh and bone.

“I know who you are, Emrys.”

Merlin practically hissed at the name and began to back away towards the door of the chambers.

“What are you planning to do about it? Tell the king?” Merlin was panicked now. If Uther knew then there would be no chance of saving himself. Or of saving Arthur.

“Calm yourself, dear. That is the last place I would be headed even if I did plan to tell someone.”

Merlin stopped, whispering, consciously aware of the guards that will patrol this corridor at some point soon.

“So why are you here?”

“Because, Merlin, I want to thank you. I want you to know that all that you’ve suffered, all that you’ve sacrificed, has not been in vain.”

What? How could she possibly know…

“I have been here some time, Merlin. Unseen but always watching.” She smiled again. “This was the deal I made. I gladly gave my life if they agreed to let me watch him grow.”

Time froze.

And suddenly everything clicked into place for Merlin.

He audibly gasped.

“You…” he started shaking his head as if it were a hallucination brought by bad wine or mysterious herbs. “You’re her.”

He stared back into those eyes.

Those eyes he’d come to know on a different human. Eyes he’d come to love.

“Yes. I am. And I have been here with him, watching him struggle and learn. Make mistakes.”

She clutched him again by the shoulders.

“Merlin, I want to thank you for taking care of my son.”

He was shaking his head and stuttering incoherently, almost silently, trying to find words to express everything he feels every day.

“You-I-your son is…a great man. And he’s going to be a good King. A kind, just, King.”

She smirked again at him, probably knowing more than he did about everything.

And then her smile turned soft as she replied.

“The Once and Future King.”

Merlin nodded, feeling a little giddy himself at the idea. Arthur sitting atop the throne of Albion and ruling his people in an age of peace, until he turns old and grey. Trusting the next generation to take the reins.

Merlin chuckled a little.

“The gods couldn’t have picked anyone better suited.”

“He will need you, Merlin. Especially in what’s to come. But this is nothing you are not already aware of.” She had a very soft smile, genuine, not one harsh line on her whole face. “I’ve also appeared to you now to say, I think you should be truthful with him.” Merlin’s instincts almost caused him to recoil from her again, but he stilled his body, as she continued. “I see him when you are not here, when he is alone, when he’s with his father. The way that he communicates his feelings are hurtful and he has no clue how to work through them. I am sorry that Uther raised him that way.” Merlin watched transparent tears slide down her pale face. “But you help him. He’s getting better with himself, with others. You are the light in his life, he wants to do better because of you, the way you see him.”

Merlin was crying too. He couldn’t help it.

He didn’t think anyone ever knew what really went on inside this blasted castle, but someone was here, watching him fail and try and try again and succeed sometimes, and keep Arthur and Camelot safe and happy. Someone has been rooting for him the entire time, he was never really alone.

“Hold on. Would he be able to see you?” Merlin whispered cautiously. “Do you want him to?”

“I’m afraid that it’s a little more complicated for people without magic. I was able to appear before you now, because your guard was down while you were crying. Your mental and emotional barriers were lowered and I was allowed to reveal myself. For Arthur and I to talk, I would need a lot of magic and a lot of trust.” She reminded him so much of Arthur in the way she hid her melancholy behind a dazzling smile.

“But that is not the reason I think you should tell him. He might be frustrated at first, but he will be far less angry than he was moments ago. He trusts you and he knows there is something you are not telling him. I think you would both benefit from a little honesty, him just as much as you.” She smirked at the last comment.

Merlin cannot believe that he just got talked into revealing his magic by the Queen of Camelot.

This day is so strange.

Wait-

“What does that mean? What is it that Arthur is keeping from me?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and thought. He knew almost everything about the man. He could probably paint him blindfolded at this point, with every buckle and button in perfect place. He knew his sense of humor, his daily schedule by heart, he knew everything Arthur thought about everyone, and Arthur knew the same of him…almost.

Except for that one-okay, maybe two things.

Maybe Arthur had an exception also.

“You will have to be vulnerable in order to find the answer to your question.” It almost sounds like a riddle of Kilgarah’s but the Queen’s made a lot more sense to him than the Great Dragon’s usually did.

“When he returns, avoid cornering him in the room. He does not do well with-“ the lady cut herself off for the first time, somehow even ghosts were conflicted in their thoughts. Her face hardened, “Uther used tactics like this to intimidate Arthur when he was a boy being scolded. For absolutely nothing at all. For doing things that boys should be doing!” Her voice reached its loudest volume and she stumbled farther away from him, wide-eyed.

“I am so sorry, Merlin. I have not spoken to anyone in so long. I didn’t not mean to get angry.” Tears welled in her blue, blue eyes.

Merlin could not stand it.

“There is nothing to apologize for. You have every right to be angry. I am angry. Sometimes with destiny, or dragons, or evil unknown forces lurking in the dark. But always at Uther. For treating Arthur that way, like an animal raised for slaughter. And for never realizing how much it scarred him. And for never changing, or apologizing. Never once. He is not even human anymore.”

They stood there, locked into each other, sharing in their grief, in their pain for this boy that they love more than life.

And then they heard footsteps, both parties equally startled for different reasons.

“Good luck, Merlin.” Igraine was smiling softly again, as if it had never left, maybe that is what Arthur does for her. What he does for them both. Bring the color and joy back into the world like a breath of clean air. “You will do well.” She nodded, before starting to disappear, back into the invisible ether of the castle.

Then the door swung open to reveal Arthur, looking almost apologetic, but also scanning the room before landing his eyes back on Merlin.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself.” Another lie. Shit.

This isn’t going well and he’s three words into it.

The prince opened his mouth as if to retort but Merlin stopped him confidently proclaiming,

“Arthur, I need to tell you something.” It was as though Merlin could feel a weight physically lifting off his shoulders as soon as the words left his mouth. “Quite a few things actually. I have not been honest with you. But I don’t want to keep secrets anymore.”

Arthur stood momentarily speechless, surprised at Merlin’s change of heart.

TBC…

[alliseaisfandom]

Some Coven of Chaos headcanons

(I haven't watched the finale yet and so I'm coping already just in case. For arguments sake we assume the road was real and at the end it gave Jen, Billy, Agatha and Rio the rest of the coven back, because I'm sappy and live in denial)

They're all alive and meet for holidays. Keep that in mind for the rest of the list.

Jen mixes the best drinks. Alcoholic or not, everyone is convinced there's magic involved. She's got a lifelong ownership of the liqueur cabinet at everyone's house.

Alice can play the cello. Billy is the only one who knows this fact. That is until he can get her tipsy enough to break it out someday play for the coven (he almost got it at Samhain)

Lilia has a "memorial pool" in her backyard.

She was also the one to veto Cats out of Billy's suggestion list for musicals they could go to

Said musical outing has yet to happen since almost everyone voted in a different thing

Agatha voted for wicked.

Rio voted for beetljuice (there was a fight over this, Billy remembers very little of it other than hearing Eddie yell "just because you say it three times doesn't mean your vote counts more". It was the first time he brought Eddie to meet the Coven, and sure at the time he didn't know he was arguing with Death Herself, but Billy was impressed regardless)

Lilia voted for Carmen. When told that Opera was not on the list, she argued that dying granted her an extra vote.

Alice agreed, and so West Side story lives on Billy's whiteboard with 2 votes

Jen voted first and picked Chicago, which Billy also voted for, unfortunately when he tried using Lilia's argument, he was reminded rather aggressively and extensively by Rio that being unmade and Dying are actually two very different things

It's the most anyone has ever heard her talk at once and Billy still regrets not taking out his notebook to remember more of it

Unfortunately he only remembered that he did in fact die as William after he and Eddie were on their way home

Rio hates easter with a passion. She has a great time during Good Friday and then sulks for the rest of the weekend

She also steers clear of most of South America and southern Europe in the ends of cotober-beginning of November, not that she doesn't like the Death related holidays, it's just that people keep spotting her even when she doesn't want them to! It's exclusive to that time of year and she's been trying - and failing- to stop it for centuries

The Titanic was a gift from Agatha to Rio. Yes the Iceberg was an accident, in the way that it rendered useless the very precarious fire she'd set to one of the engine rooms

Rio was very thankful.

Billy's school organised an end of year trip to Italy. That night he got a call from Lilia where she told him the best places to go to, what tourist traps to avoid, and asked if he could bring her back a package stashed away under the floorboards of what he eventually found out was a heavily guarded historical monument

The first time they all actually got together to celebrate anything was Alice's birthday dinner

Agatha found herself with 6 unwanted guests in her kitchen and zero explanation. She did not kick them out, a fact she loudly proclaims to regret as often as possible

There is a group chat

Billy, Alice e and Rio are the most active in it, with Jen following, a bit behind because she "actually has a real job that takes up time that you all seem to have free for some reason" (her herb garden died that afternoon and she refused to answer any of Rio's texts for a week after that.)

Lilia never interacts, and they're not entirely sure she receives the messages, as everyone's phones glitch when they try to check

Agatha leaves them on read

Jen was invited to a beauty event in New York. She brought Billy as her plus one, who proceeded to act as her agent all night, getting her two new brand deals, and a spot on a talk show. She brings him along every time now

To be continued

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Vergil's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Vergil's Path

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: Fucking finally part 2 hahahaha I deeply apologize for taking so long to post Vergil's part. As some of you might have seen here, my dad suffered an accident and my life turned upside down the last few months - I'm still managing, doing damage control hahaha but slowly getting back on track with my writing.

But here is Vergil's part! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand this madness and, if you're a Dante appreciator, fret not, the red devil part is here.

I have to thank my dear friend @furyeclipse for sending me this idea as an ask a thousand years ago - and now, it is finally done! You can check Fury's work on ao3 right here, I highly recommend it!

I'm also going through a phase of powerful monsters (vampires, demons, the whole unholy pantheon) being on their knees for their human partner and, oh boy, it shows. I'm not apologizing. Oh. And the Helen of Troy/Sparta is NOT a gendered thing. It's more of being recognized as the most beautiful among mortals, enough to cause a war for their love. And yes there's a Ghost reference in there, I FINALLY got to properly listen to their music and man, why did I sleep on them for so long??

Devil May Halloween 2023 - Vergil's Path

Demonic marriages. There was a topic you had to admit you were completely ignorant about.

Vergil had mentioned it once. You did ask him when Sparda’s and Eva’s union arose as a subject in one of your researches one day – for, as far as you knew, marriages were religious and it did make you wander if demons had their own religion or only rituals.

That subject was very muddy, as per Vergil’s words. His own knowledge on the matter was very limited – and that was something new for you.

“Hmmm. A very good question indeed.” Vergil murmured as he put down his book on the table, raising his silvery eyes to you. The library was dead quiet, but his voice was always so low it wasn’t a concern – even if you both were the only living beings in that place at that hour. “You could say some demons are powerful enough to be viewed as gods, but those would be only the likes of Mundus.”

“And Sparda…?” Oh, you had to ask. After all, wasn’t Sparda the only demon strong enough to defeat Mundus? Who could ever defeat a being as powerful as a god? Only a god as well, at least in your mortal eyes.

Vergil allowed a proud smile to spread over his lips as nodded in agreement.

“Well, we do have Fortuna as an example of people worshipping demons as gods, so humans praying to demons doesn’t really surprise me. There are plenty of cults and even churches who do that.” You shrugged, organizing your books and papers, passing him a list of demonic cults you had been keeping track over the years. You weren’t one to judge, but, seeing your occupation was to slaughter demons, it was always good to keep an eye on them. “Eva and Sparda getting married made me wonder. Marriages are very religious, how did Sparda deal with that? Given his story, I don’t think it was only a civil ceremony for government benefits, right?”

“Right indeed…” Vergil once again murmured, curiously reading your list. It was a very thorough and good document, and he couldn’t stop himself to think how it was smart of you to do that. He had a list of people to keep an eye on as well now. “I’ve never really wondered about that as a child, for I didn’t know much of the world back then. We tend to accept that what we see and what it’s said to be true… But after I started researching and learning, it did spark my interest. As far as I can tell you, my father accepted my mother’s faith and married her by her rules, not the opposite. He would never do that just out of a civil agreement, he really did it for love.”

“So even with the power of gods, demons don’t have religions.”

“Again, that is a very good question. I never could really answer it with certainty.” Vergil sighed, leaving your list on the table between you and raising his silvery eyes to yours once more. “As impressive as it sounds, demons don’t lack faith. Some of them do worship more powerful demons as deities, and some of them do join each other in cults. As far as I could observe in Hell, they are very similar to humans on that matter: each has their own set of rules and beliefs and most of them kill each other for their ‘gods’.”

“Huh. Humanity once again proving they can be quite demonic.” You scoffed while rolling your eyes. Religious wars were as old as History itself and it was quite ironic for you to hear that was something present in demonic History as well.

“Or demons proving once again they have something of human after all.” Vergil shrugged after observing you a few long seconds, before turning his eyes to another one of his books again. “I’d argue not all humans, though. Differently from demons, most of them save themselves from being devilish and evil.”

“Hmmm. A few demons can also save themselves from that fate.” You had a slight smile on your lips, turning to your tea mug nearby. “And those who do can be even kinder than humans.”

That conversation would find its end right there that night, as both of you went back to your books and research – but you were able to see a slight smile on Vergil’s lips and how his eyes seemed to have softened after that.

Even if your Dark Slayer could soften under your words, you doubted other demons would do that – and even went as far as doubting they would have something close to a human heart. Vergil was different from all the demons in that place; and so, marriage was the last word you ever expected to hear.

But there you were, locked in a derelict room with Kyrie, surrounded by the long gone gothic architecture of a cathedral that once stood proud among those lands – now rotten, decayed, desecrated and with its colorful glass mosaics shattered everywhere, it was taken by demons to perform their unholy ritual.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we Kyrie…?” You sighed back to the only human soul with you in that place – the only hope in that godforsaken night, lit only by the flickering warm light of candles. “Marriage. I did not expect it would be this way, though, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I didn’t expect it either…” Kyrie sighed in complete desolation, staring at a loose stone on the floor. “Nero is going to be so mad.”

“I can only imagine.” You answered with a giggle, taking a seat at rotten wood bench that once served as a place for priests to read while doing their own religious researches. “I don’t think Vergil is going to be very pleased as well.”

“Oh.” And it finally seemed to down on Kyrie who your lover was and how much trouble those demons were in. “Did he… Ever tell you about something like this…?”

“Well, marriage is not really a topic that usually arises with Vergil…” You had your eyes lost on an old bookcase, imagining if any of those would be worth a read. Not that you had too much time for that at the moment, but you were quite disturbed. If it was only you in that situation, you would be more at ease, but Kyrie’s presence changed everything. “But he did tell me about a similar ritual between humans and demons. The human usually isn’t a consenting participant though.”

Raising your eyes to hers, Kyrie felt a shiver down her spine. She knew exactly what you meant and that whole situation was also quite frightening for her – in a matter of fact, she probably wasn’t that scared because you were there; but even that didn’t help much. Not when both of you had no idea what was going on.

“I hate the fact they took my weapons. I’m thinking of a thousand ways to get out of here, but I can’t do it without at least my sword.” You rested your head on one of your hands, looking completely defeated. Kyrie had pity in her eyes, sitting by your side right after.

“Well… This isn’t exactly the sort of wedding dress I would choose either.” She sighed in desolation making you snort a quick laugh. “I’m not comfortable in this. I can only imagine how naked you feel.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes, pointing at your own attire. You and Kyrie looked positively ridiculous: it was as if the demon in charge of your clothes had only seen a bunch of 80’s movies depicting marriages and thought they had to be even more over the top than that. You could barely move in your own clothes and hated every single second of being in that thing. “If I at least had my gun, I’d shoot the bastard who thought this was acceptable.”

Kyrie had to giggle. It was always endearing to see how some of Vergil’s mannerisms spilled into yours over the time and vice versa. Your voice was as sharp as a piece of ice and your eyes had the same predatorial gaze – even if your words sounded funny in context.

“Couldn’t you use your summoned swords? Like Vergil?”

“I could but I shouldn’t.” Your answer was a little slow, because you were considering it. Using summoned swords was always an advantage, but it did come with its limitations. “Vergil is teaching me how to use all his arcane knowledge, little by little… But I’m human.” As you looked at Kyrie, she seemed to immediately understand what you meant: after all, she was the human companion of a half-demon as well. “It takes a lot of energy. Vergil can tap into his demonic energy that, honestly, it can power a whole city when he’s in the right mood. When it comes to me, though, I can only go so far. It takes a lot more concentration and I can do it only for a while – I’m a novice at it even, so I can’t hold it for too long. I need to train a lot more to be able to take an entire mission, for example.”

“Hmmm. It’s just like when Nero trains me with Credo’s sword…” Kyrie mumbled, resting her head on both of her hands, while her elbows leaned on her knees. You had to giggle: she looked like a bummed out child. “It’s so heavy, I can only do a couple of moves and I get tired quickly.”

“Is that why you’ve been training strength at the gym recently…?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. There was something of sweet about that.

Your little angel was soon going to become a buffed little angel waving a big ass sword around. You loved that concept. Nero’s jaw would hit the floor.

“Exactly.” But Kyrie had the most angelic of smiles on her lips. You knew how it was important to her to be able to use Credo’s sword, even if it was just to protect herself and the children of the orphanage – she was never going to become a devil hunter like you. But she was going to be a guardian angel… Like Credo would’ve been if Sanctus hadn’t taken him away in that demonic cult in Fortuna.

Before you could say anything else, though, you felt a shift in the air. Furrowing your brows, you immediately got up from your seat and put yourself in front of Kyrie: whatever it was, it would have to go through you first. She didn’t say a word, seeming to hide behind you and that horrid thing you were wearing – which didn’t really work, seeing how evident her own dress was.

With a few sparks, one of the demon lords spawned right in front of you: Erlach.

“Everything seems to be ready for the ceremony, then. Good.” His smile spread across his leathery skin as a row of a thousand sharp knives. Erlach carried horns and claws, eyes with desolation and the fiery pits of his home, and a set of large wings fit for an overgrown bat – but something about his features were astoundingly human. Demon lords could tower over humans, sometimes even taller than doors, and carry all the might and horror of Hell, but their kind were built in resemblance with their mortal peers – which wasn’t very common when it came to demons.

“When you force your guests to take part in it, things do get ready at your will, demon.” You had that typical coldness in your eyes – the type that would make the will of a lesser demon waiver. It wasn’t the case with Erlach, though: a spark seemed to have crossed his eyes, as he stared at you for a few seconds with interest.

“Apologize being so rude, but I do think you wouldn’t have come this far out of free will, human.” He spat back, allowing a smile to take over his features once more. It wasn’t the most inviting thing you had ever seen, you had to be honest.

“With this sort of attire, I certainly wouldn’t have.”

To your surprise, Erlach laughed in response. You quickly shared a glare with Kyrie, both of you uneasy with such… Tolerance from him.

“I might have to agree with you. Now, come. I wish to speak to you in private – we have enough to discuss.”

*

Before you could even respond, you blinked and suddenly, you were in an old study. Probably a part of the cathedral that only priests had access, with private rooms where they could make their own little libraries and studies – the desk had books and documents all over it, the fire was lit and a thousand candles burned in orange to give light to one of the deepest nights of the year.

You tried not to sigh: demonic teleportation was always a nuisance to you. Your human body still had to get used to that and you always got a little angry at Vergil when he void teleported you with Yamato: he was wise to always ask your permission first and, if it happened during an emergency and it was the only thing available for him to protect you, he knew he was in for some serious complaining from your part later.

Honestly, Vergil would rather have you safe, complaining at him and as mad as a human could be than have you harmed in a place he couldn’t protect you. He was actually getting well versed in dealing with your void teleportation complaints.

“Your kind isn’t very prone to conversations.” You had to point out, taking a deep breath. Your dizziness would be gone in a few seconds and you didn’t want Erlach to know how much it affected you. “Mindless dismemberments and self-boasting talk seem to be the preferred route for demons.”

“Lesser demons. Demon lords do have a different approach to things… And deals.” Erlach walked around his table, skimming over some documents before turning his fiery eyes to you and smiling once more. “The brainless dismembering style is still preferred by some, though. Like Orcus.”

“The second demon lord here tonight.” As you noted, Erlach seemed to have enjoyed your answer. It meant you were paying attention, not only trying to escape. “Demons are quite selfish as well, I wouldn’t expect to see your kind engaging in alliances. Or is that something peculiar to demon lords as well…?”

Yes, you were trying to provoke him – it was in your fighting style, in your blood. When fighting against demons, they all boasted how terrible they were, how they would smash you into a paste on the pavement and feast on your bones. You had to know how to answer at the same level or the fear would get to you. After all, you were fighting against supernatural things on a daily basis, obviously faster and stronger than you. If you didn’t taunt them to inspire a little bit of fear and belittle them before your humanity, you would cower in a corner and wait for certain death.

It was something Vergil admired on you, though. You had everything to fear those you fought against – and, sometimes, you knew you were overpowered by them. Even so, you wouldn’t allow that to show, you would masterfully control your emotions and only let out those you allowed your enemies to see. Vergil was quite proud of that.

“It’s peculiar to those of us who rather use our minds instead of our powers.” Erlach’s eyes lost all interest they had on the documents and were immediately glued to you and you only. Not once you shifted your gaze, and not once your body seemed to want to run away. You just stood there, immobile, gazing back at his fiery eyes with the same conviction as his – waiting the rest of his answer. “You see, I could break your bones with the flick of my wrist, but that wouldn’t be so fun, would it…?” Erlach approached with a slight smile on his lips, some fun playing in his words. His steps were slow and calculated, everything he could to inspire fear in your human heart. “There’s so much more in this world than bending it to your will by force.”

“It is a lot easier. Or so did Mundus think.” You crossed your arms and slightly raised your head, failing to notice how arrogant you looked… Just like Vergil used to be. Dante said one day both of you would get your ass kicked for looking cocky and, well, your day might have arrived. You wouldn’t let your pride slip out of you, tough, and something about Erlach’s demeanor made you think he wasn’t really annoyed by it. His feelings were… Something else.

“It didn’t take him too far, did it…?” Erlach raised one of his eyebrows, slowly approaching you once again. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on his pray, but instead of running, you maintained your posture. The one the Dark Slayer taught you. The one from knowing the power of being tied to the blood of Sparda. “Mundus was arrogant to think humans were only meat.”

“Apparently we are unwilling wedding participants too.” You scoffed, making Erlach laugh in response. You had to hide how his reaction took you by surprise: how much did you have to taunt him for that demon lord to finally lose his temper? “I don’t suppose you brought me here only to properly propose to me.”

“Differently from the Spardas, I do believe in taking some things by force.” Erlach’s voice had a delight laced in his words that made you… Slightly uncomfortable. “The ritual is taking place tonight, whether you and your friend agree to it or not. I just wanted to look into your eyes and see what the son of Sparda, the Dark Slayer who had been locked in Hell for decades, saw in you. A bond between a demon and any mortal creature isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

“Well, then you aren’t in luck. I am not married to Vergil, nor do I think he will ever want to be.” Your answer was certain and, to the demon’s surprise, carried no tinge of bitterness. You and Vergil had an agreement regarding your relationship: he would be with you for as long as you would have him, but he would never think of binding you to his fate like his father did to his mother. You had said countless times you didn’t mind and you weren’t afraid, but it wasn’t something Vergil was ready for. And you could respect that. “Our bond is not what you think it is.”

“Oh, it is exactly what I think it is.” Erlach’s words carried a truth you feared you weren’t able to see at the moment – as if he knew something you didn’t. You had to control your feelings not to furrow your brows and allow him to see your confusion, hiding it under your unbothered and strong demeanor – like whatever words he said could never affect you. “It isn’t a ceremonial bond, but one of souls. The heart does not lie, my exquisite guest, and the Spardas seem to be haunted by their father’s heartful curse.” His fingers grasped an old piece of paper in one of the desks by your side; Erlach’s indifferent eyes analyzed its contents while he spoke. “I will never understand why Sparda decided not to follow our rituals. He could’ve been great; Greater than Mundus himself. But he chose to diminish and turn himself as human as he could be… and look at what happened to him and his family. A shame, really.” He tossed aside the paper, and you could see an old picture of Sparda and Eva, falling apart from how old it was. Probably cut out from a book, looking like a painting; a portrait made long ago, before Dante and Vergil were even born. “Our marriage is called a binding ritual. It requires two souls to connect, and it makes one of them more powerful than one could ever dream of.”

“Hmmm. It requires one to diminish itself and be a powerless servant, then. I can see why Sparda discarded this option.” He would’ve never done such a thing to Eva, and that you had learned from all the stories Vergil told you from his parents. If you had only known the story from the books and popular tales, you would’ve asked yourself the same thing and have the same questions Erlach had – but you did have Sparda’s own son to tell the story. To paint you how his father was warm, stern, yes, but still kind, graceful and loving… To paint him as human. In all his adoration for Eva, he would never think of turning her into a powerless slave to his will. That was not what love was. “You still have much to learn.”

Erlach’s fiery eyes immediately met yours – but they didn’t carry the offense you thought they would. There was something else inside his demonic eyes. Was it… Excitement? Maybe…?

“Oh, little human, you have much to learn then to think some wouldn’t appreciate being slaves to their partner’s will. It is all a matter of pleasure.” His smile, though, immediately made you uncomfortable. If that subject had been mentioned by Vergil, you would definitely answer with a sassy smile and state that, in a matter of fact, you did know about that – and see where that conversation with your devilish partner would get you. But with Erlach…? It sounded more like a warning rather than anything else. Definitely a red flag waving in front of you. “The other soul does get something in return – some very important things in Hell: protection and status. Desecrating the partner of one of the most powerful demons to ever live could easily be a death sentence to whatever demon foolish enough to do so.”

“If that is the case, and I am bonded to Vergil, I wonder how foolish you have to be to willingly kidnap and forcefully wed the partner of the King of Hell.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud. You wouldn’t even say it in front of Dante and Nero. Whenever the subject decided to appear, you just nodded, agreeing with the others that what Vergil did was horrifying and terribly wrong.

But you couldn’t deny the power trip on the rare occasions you decided to flex Vergil’s King of Hell title.

It had its perks.

“Only foolish if I don’t finish the ritual in time, my little human. I was also careful enough to find myself some leverage.” Erlach immediately waved at the door, referring to Kyrie. You didn’t want to sigh in acknowledgement, but that was enough to at least try to put some halt in Vergil’s murderous rampage. Or to make Nero hold his father on a leash if Vergil just decided to recklessly kill everything on sight. You had some serious concerns those demons heavily understated Vergil’s power. “I had no intentions to let Orcus partake in this ritual but I did need a brute to carry out most of the killing; it would be terribly boring.” With those words, Erlach approached enough to stop right in front of you. At any moment you flinched or decided to walk back, even if everything in your being wanted to put some very good distance between the both of you. Preferably a Vergil of distance. “Therefore, he can bind himself to the weakest of partners. The grandson of Sparda clearly isn’t as attuned to power as Sparda’s spawns.”

“Only a demon would think a human heart is weaker than a devil’s will.” You scoffed in response, raising your head once even higher – in part to be able to look at Erlach directly in his eyes. Vergil’s gaze could cut like the sharpest of ice, and you had seen those silvery eyes in their worst. Erlach’s gaze was nothing compared to the Dark Slayer. “Maybe that was the source of Sparda’s power, have you ever thought of that?”

You would never throw a demon lord like Erlach at Kyrie, but you were quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the truth to your words and would never turn to the crew’s little angel as the most powerful of partners. Demons could be quite predictable in your book.

“Hmmm. Maybe humans measure their status through empathy, but in Hell…” Erlach’s eyes leveled with yours, his head bowing to be able to share his gaze with you – and, instead of fear, he found something else… Something closer to pride. You were the counterpart of the King of Hell after all, weren’t you? You would never bow your head and lose your crown, Erlach was beginning to understand that. And appreciate that. “We measure through power. And you carry quite the power within you, dearest human. Vergil, the Son of Sparda, wouldn’t accept any less with all the titles he carries. He is part demon, after all.”

That was some food for thought that had never crossed your mind before. Yes, Vergil was partly human, but without a doubt, it was Dante who got most of Eva’s heart. Vergil always took pride in his demonic heritage and power, and always found solace in that – he slowly came to terms with his own humanity and learned to appreciate the human heart, but the thirst for power ran deep in his demonic veins. He did see something in you more than your human empathy… Or else, his devil would never consider bowing to you.

“Hmmm. If all you search is power then, you can always betray Orcus and perform the ritual only for yourself.” You had a spark of sharp intelligence in your eyes, making Erlach widen his smile as the words poured from your lips. “Surely a creature like you wouldn’t mind some backstabbing and murder to keep all the power to yourself.”

“Oh, my sweet temptation, I have to say, I love the way you think…!” Now his voice had a trail of smoldering lust that not even you could deny it was there. Yes, you were trying to manipulate the demon into killing Orcus and leaving only one demon lord for you to deal with – which would make your life quite easy – and probably releasing Kyrie while at it. But you never expected your little game to backfire so gloriously: perhaps Vergil was right when he said you still had a thing or two to learn about his kind. “And I know what you are trying to do – very exciting. A battle of wits and manipulation with a devil, you are truly fearless.” You didn’t think Erlach couldn’t approach you even more, but there he was, towering over you in a way you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Even if you wanted to void-teleport Vergil right between you at that very moment, you wouldn’t back down – it wasn’t in you. “When all this started, I thought only to bond with a powerful creature of human blood – now… You have proven to be spellbounding, sweet sweet creature. I see what Vergil saw in you: all the cleverness, might, strength, wits; all that fire.” With those words, Erlach offered you his hand, with those fiery eyes staring inside your soul. “I will take you as my partner, but you can do it willingly. I will give you protection and you will be royalty in Hellish realms. You will rule by my side: everything we want is ours for the taking, and anything you ask, I will give you. Kingdoms, realms, worlds. Every living creature that has ever taken a breath will bow to us – the world is mine and yours to rule… You just have to say yes.”

Erlach’s words took you by surprise – your head spun and you thought soon your feet wouldn’t know how to keep you stable on the floor. Your plans backfiring was a serious understatement. You never gave Erlach a reason to like you: on the contraire, you only gave him reasons to be extremely annoyed and suspicious of any and all of your actions. He had no hidden agendas in his words, as far as you could see, and it was extremely obvious what was going on.

You just didn’t expect that to happen, out of all the outcomes of that night.

“Why would I do that when I am already royalty?” Your answer, though, came back with the icy stare you learned from your beloved blue devil, crossing your arms once more and raising your head high just like he used to do. It wasn’t something you did consciously – with time, people develop some mannerisms of their loved ones, and you were no different.

You just got Vergil’s arrogance – and you were more than ready to pay for your tongue. That little game between you and Erlach had already gone too far: you had spotted a few things in the room you could use as a weapon and you were ready to go feral if he attacked you because of your insolence.

You were disarmed, though, when Erlach started laughing – a laugh of pure delight.

“I will have to steal, then. Just like Paris did to Helen of Troy.”

“But remember: an entire kingdom burned just so that King Menelaus could have Helen of Sparta back.”

“Indeed, Beautiful Helen. I shall keep that in mind.” With those words, Erlach’s rough hands took one of yours by force and placed a sharp kiss on your soft skin – that seemed to burn like a lingering fire even after you were teleported back to your improvised cell.

You had to sit down. You had to sit down. That night was already becoming quite the ride – and you thought your Halloween nights couldn’t be even wilder than the ones you had already had so far. But there you were, proven wrong, by a demon lord with a crazy ancient ritual that required a demonic marriage. You were flabbergasted, shocked, breathless… And a little scared.

Vergil had always warned you not to play with demons – especially with those who were witty enough to answer at your level. You always thought he warned you so you could dodge being fooled and trapped into a deal you never saw coming in the first place – he never told you one of those creatures could develop feelings towards you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?!” Kyrie rushed towards you, sitting by your side on that bench you were before, checking your temperature. You were still staring at some lost point on the ground, clearly questioning your life choices so far. “Y/n! Did he hurt you?! What happened?!”

“I think one of the most absurd things just happened in this lifetime…” You murmured, finally staring back at her with a concerned look – but somewhat empty eyes. Kyrie just had her eyebrows furrowed, because if something worried you then she should be even more worried. “I think a demon lord just fell in love with me.”

“Ooooh, no…” The dread in Kyrie’s voice could be understood by even the most clueless of creatures. She closed her eyes, already foreseeing chaos and destruction. “Vergil is going to go on a rampage.”

Yes. And, honestly, you weren’t looking forward to that.

*

“I know we are in a hurry…!” Lady was leaning out the open door of the Devil May Cry van while Nico drove furiously right behind Dante’s trail. Screaming at the red devil while on the road wasn’t an easy – nor safe – task, but honestly, Lady had done worse. “But what are you trying to do, cowboy?! Not miss the train?!”

Dante immediately slowed down slightly, just so he could be side by side with the devil hunter he knew since his teen years. Looking up at her, Dante didn’t even have to watch the road to keep on going without running over anything – his demonic insight would make up for that.

“Kinda, Lady.” His answer was a little snarky, even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, kid! How are your instincts with your girl?!”

“Not good, I’ll tell ya that.” Nero growled, almost unable to stand still by Nico’s side. The gunsmith had made a mental note not to bother him through that whole evening: Nero’s fangs were already showing, his eyes had a tinge of gold, and his trigger distortion was already appearing in his voice. If she actually took some time to look at him, she would be able to see claws instead of nails and his hair a little bit longer than usual – almost like they were back in Fortuna. Nico still wasn’t used to half-triggered Nero and she could bet it would take some time. “Kyrie’s heart, she’s anxious. Somethin’s unsettling her. And I don’t like it. At all.”

With those words, Nero finished doing whatever he was doing with Red Queen and his sword clicked back into place, revving up with the engines he had installed long ago.

“If the kid is like that, imagine Vergil.” Dante stated back to Lady and Trish, now leaning by the open door completely unbothered by the speed and the wind. “He’s an idiot, but still, man’s got enough power to level a whole city. He’s an asshat who can control his feelings, alright, but he’s got one hell of a trauma and a thing for protecting. His partner is gone. He’s on a bloodlust rampage, trust me. We gotta get to this place before Vergil, or all hell will break lose.”

“Vergil’s our train. Got it.” Lady immediately turned serious, remembering all the times she had ever seen Vergil fight – and all he could do.

“Nico! Hit the gas pedal! We aren’t gonna get there in time going at this speed.” Trish strutted over the driver’s seat – always keeping an eye on Nero. She knew how half-triggers could be disorienting and dangerous, and she could help in case anything went wrong – after all, she was a full devil and, wanting or not, she could take down Nero in a fight, to some extent, if she ever had to. At least long enough to give Dante time to fight his nephew in a fit of rage.

“Already goin’ as fast as I can, demon lady!” Nico had her cigarette between her teeth and her foot never leaving the gas pedal. Indeed, it was the fastest speed for the van.

“We just gotta give it a spark, then.” With those words, Trish rested one of her hands on the van’s panel, her eyes immediately sparkling with thunderous yellow. Her demonic sparks ran through her body, pooling over her heart and running down her arm, jolting to the van and enveloping it on her signature yellow lighting.

“WOOOOAH!” Nico had to hold her cigarette even tighter, both hands on the wheel as the van seemed to fly on the road. “Are you CRAZY, woman?!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, virtuosa.” And Trish’s own glowing yellow eyes never left the streets. “We’ll make it there on time.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dante couldn’t help but laugh and use part of his own trigger to make Cavaliere go faster, now side by side with the van. “Keep it up, babe!”

They had to make it before Vergil. Dante knew in his heart he was the only one who could speak some logic back to his brother at a moment like that.

*

“Me and Vergil… We have a thing.”

You and Kyrie were being taken to the main event of the night: the ritual at the center of the derelict cathedral, under the light of the moon and the stars, witnessed by demons and the lost souls on the forgotten cemetery nearby. Barely any stained-glass mosaics were left – but those that were gave the cathedral an eerie tinge of color; like ghosts long gone in a place that was once holy. Your steps echoed on the stony ground, and you could hear the crackling of an enormous bonfire in the distance – as well as see the distorted, tall shadows of the demons taking both of you to your doom.

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing. I’m just saying it’s a thing.” You sighed, making her hazelnut eyes stare at you with interest as you walked proudly in front of her. The demons forced Kyrie to walk and kept shoving her until you made them only escort you to the ritual with just a stare of authority – she had to admit, you and Vergil were very much alike in some departments. “I can… Sense him sometimes. And he can sense me, whenever he wants to. It has to do with the arcane studies and the fact that we are partners.” You remained silent for a few seconds, closing your eyes for a while to take a deep breath before opening them again. “He can feel my distress. He knows when I’m worried, anxious, in danger.”

“Hmmm… Nero can do that too… I wonder if it’s a family thing.” Kyrie whispered back, not wanting the other demons to hear your conversation. You kept as close to her as possible, but still walking in front of her: if anything happened, it had better happen to you first.

“I wonder the same, too.” You answered with a breathy laugh, seeing the beauty of Vergil’s son being so alike him sometimes – and you wondered if Sparda had the same with Eva; with your heart already knowing the answer. “Sometimes, I feel Vergil’s rage too. His despair. His loneliness. His pain.” You went silent for a while, not really wanting to elaborate on that. It was the first time you were talking about that to someone on the crew – the first time you told Vergil, you had no idea what to do with those emotions and to say it was a roller coaster of a night to both of you, was an understatement. “What I feel is only a shadow of what he feels. And when he feels me, there is no force on Earth that will stop him. He will find me and, if need be, obliterate whatever is causing me trouble.”

“Oh.”

Kyrie finally understood why you said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When it came to her and Nero, their connection was deep and strong – and she had never seen anything like that before. But, the way you were speaking, it was different with you and Vergil… Maybe even stronger. And, when it came to Vergil, that could be for good or for bad.

You had to wonder how it was with Eva and Sparda. He was a demon, after all, and she was human. If Vergil was already that protective towards you, and that ruthless when it came to his enemies, you could see Sparda destroying entire countries for the woman he loved – being a harbinger of nothing but death, ruin and despair, only to have her feeling safe in his arms once again.

The fall of the city of Troy never made so much sense to you before that moment. Even if in the original story Helen’s heart was taken by Paris, still, Menelaus burned, killed, maimed and destroyed everything in his way just so she could be Helen of Sparta again… You could see Vergil and his father doing the same – but, in yours and Eva’s case, you would be longing to be back into their arms once more.

“Vergil is coming. And he is not in his best shape, emotionally speaking.” You whispered back to Kyrie so she could understand the extent of the situation you were in. “What I just felt, I could kill one of these demons with my bare hands. When Vergil’s here, he will do his best not to hurt you, but he is focused in one thing only so… Get out of his way. And I’m not trying to be rude…”

“I understand.” Kyrie whispered back, carefully noticing the demons eyeing each other. She knew you weren’t really giving her a warning, you were playing a little game: planting seeds of terror and discord so they would tear each other apart from the inside just from being afraid of Vergil. It was a clever move and Kyrie would’ve praised you if she had the chance. “I’ve already seen Nero almost go on a rampage. It really isn’t nice. I hope he doesn’t try to join his father, or there will not be a single rock left standing in this cathedral soon enough.”

She decided to play your game, noticing a slight smile of approval on the corner of your lips. All of you hunters always had smart strategies to deal with the demons you did on a daily basis, but, when you were completely stripped of your weapons just like on that moment, you had to resort to other ways of fighting.

Your scheming had to be put to a halt for a while when you approached the decaying wooden doors that opened your path down the church’s aisle – a moth eaten dark red carpet, now almost black from dirt and time, painting the path you should follow; until you would stand side by side with the devil who kidnapped you, now waiting for your presence by a tall bonfire at the center of the cathedral, illuminating an altar right behind Erlach.

Things suddenly seemed even more serious now and your heart sunk in your chest. As you started to walk down the aisle, the demons watching that hellish ceremony chanted and hit their weapons or claws rhythmically on the stony floor. Kyrie was held by one of the demons who guided you towards the aisle, outside of that madness, but soon to go in after your ritual came to an end – after you got married.

A few seconds after your heart seemed to have sunken on the floor, you felt a rage bubbling inside your chest, threatening to come out of your mouth with an earth shattering scream; running through your body like a violent bolt of lightning, resting on your hands that immediately closed to fists as you raised your head high: for a split second, if you saw anything that could be used as a weapon to cut Erlach’s head off its neck, you would’ve taken it and plunged in like a furious beast.

That lightning, though, dissipated as fast as it ran through your body. You didn’t lose your posture and kept walking with certain, hard steps towards your fate – but that blind bloody rage was gone.

It was Vergil.

You knew it was him. It was right after you had that desperate, desolating feeling of not knowing what to do, of watching that harrowing scene right in front of you and not knowing how to get out… Of feeling trapped like a little mouse on a cage. You felt some of Vergil’s emotions in a very fleeting manner – in a bolt of lightning – but he could feel yours more certainly and longingly. That bloodthirst that ran through your body… It was just a fleeting taste of Vergil’s emotional response to knowing how unsafe you felt.

After all he had been through, protection was a big thing for your blue devil. He silently promised nothing would ever happen to his newfound family now that he was strong enough to protect not only himself, but everyone around him. Knowing you were vulnerable, completely exposed, feeling like prey and he wasn’t around to keep you safe… To say Vergil’s demonic blood was boiling was a great understatement.

“Come, brilliant creature among humans. Midnight is close, and the ritual must be completed.” Erlach offered you his rough, devilish hand so you could take and approach the altar with him – a stone containing a couple of candles and an old golden bow, marked by ancient, dry blood.

You stopped right where you were, not taking his hand, but still staring into his eyes. You were thinking of words of defiance, of improvised weapons, of anything you could do to get you and Kyrie out of there. If you had to fight that demon with hands and teeth, so be it, but you wouldn’t back down – and if it was for you to die, you would die fighting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roaring thunder rumbling through the pitch-black skies right above your heads. You couldn’t see any clouds and it didn’t seem like it was going to rain earlier that day, but that ominous thunder roared once more – with a flash of a lightning in the distance cracking down from the sky suddenly illuminating your face as you opened a broad smile. Erlach only eyed you with confusion, taken aback by the sudden prelude of rain.

“A storm is approaching.” Your somber voice did not match the smile across your lips and Erlach’s eyes filled with understanding – even if he himself didn’t think that was possible for only a half-demon like the Dark Slayer. “You have yet time to give up this foolishness before he arrives.”

“I am not scared by a little thunder, human. You shall learn that in time.” The demon decided to ignore the warning on your voice, taking your hand with a little too much strength, already guiding you to the altar.

But you heard whispers – among the other demons, yours and Kyrie's words were being replicated, some of them resting silent while others laughed. With your ominous warning over a simple storm, though, they started to wander… To fear. Was that something done by your lover? Was that the extent of Sparda’s power? The Dark Slayer, the one who escaped from Hell and from his imprisonment by none other than Mundus, was that powerful…? They didn’t know. And some of them, didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, you will learn to be scared.” You whispered, back, slowly going up the few steps that kept you and Erlach far from each other. He conducted you with an iron grip, while the only thing you had in mind was to buy Vergil more time to get to you. “As all of you do.”

“Not if I get the ritual done first.” With those harsh words, Erlach gripped your arm in a way you couldn’t escape, even if his gestures were a lot more flourished than brute. You saw a ritualistic dagger in his other hand and you knew what the next step would be. “Then he shall learn a thing or two about fear.”

His hands moved so fast you didn’t have time to quip back – even if you wanted to answer that, after all Vergil had been through, making him feel fear was quite the achievement. Very few things could frighten his heart and soul… And you were oblivious enough to point out that, Vergil’s protective and enraged response that day was not only out of love, but out of fear of losing you.

Before Erlach could resume cutting your hand to harvest your blood for the bonding ritual, you managed to pierce his arm with a white summoned sword. With that surprise, Erlach dropped the weapon and you took it in your hand – twisting it and approaching him enough to press it against his neck, already making him bleed. You just didn’t manage to kill him because his survival reflexes made him snap our of his surprise and hold your hand against his neck, struggling with you in order to see who would win: you, by taking his life, or him, by taking you as his.

“My King of Hell isn’t the only one who should be feared, demon. You will learn that with time.” Your voice was low and filled with pride, hearing as the other demons immediately started whispering to each other: Orcus and Erlach probably didn’t tell them all the titles your lover carried.

As if to support you, another thunder roared in the skies and a lightning cracked near the desecrated cathedral. Some demons seemed to gasp and become startled, expecting Vergil to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

A few drops of water started to fall on your hair, your face, and run down your hands… And between your lips as you smiled.

“You are indeed a rare one.” But, to your surprise, Erlach smiled back. His sharp nails buried in the skin of your arm holding the knife, making you relax your grip ever so slightly as blood started to run from the wounds he inflicted. “Blood is blood. No matter how I attain it. Alas, I wanted our bonding to be beautiful, but this will do.”

With your blood running down his claws, Erlach grasped the blade on his neck, cutting his own hand even if you didn’t let the dagger go. Reaching out for the golden bowl, you once again tried to stab his neck, but the demon finally let go of your other arm only to hold your hand back. As you both struggled, you did your best to keep his hand away from the bowl, with Erlach already muttering some words in a language long lost to your human ears.

It was your blood already mixed with his. Whatever you did, he couldn’t reach that bowl for anything in this world.

You didn’t notice when the rain became stronger. You didn’t notice when Orcus moved Kyrie away from the door. You didn’t notice when the thunders seemed to roar inside the earth beneath your feet. All your strength was concentrated in keeping Erlach away from the altar, and all his strength was focused on completing the ritual on time.

“Before me all things create were none, save things Eternal, and Eternal I shall endure.*” Oh, you would recognize that voice even if you were dead. The words creeped through the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by calm, calculated steps approaching with resolve. The demons’ attentions turned to the rotten door, as well as yours and Erlach’s eyes, finally stopping to struggle. Vergil’s silhouette finally made itself visible, as if he was taken by a cold blue aura in the darkness – his silvery eyes set on you and your foe, one of his hands grasping the hilt of the Yamato as the other kept the sword safe at his side. “Per aspera, ad Inferi.”

There was a change in the air. Your very breath seemed to warp around you as time became slurred and thick. For a few moments it was difficult to breathe, as the storm outside that desecrated place looked like it would start bleeding inside the cathedral. You stumbled back, closer to the altar, dragging Erlach with you – you knew what was coming. Some demons tried to run, others froze in place, while some got ready to fight.

You could see how that cold, fiery blue started to cut the air – a split second before Vergil disappeared and all you could hear was the sound of the Yamato slicing everything in sight. Time stopped for a while, your breath disappeared from your lungs, your heart didn’t beat. You held yourself together as strongly as you could, while Erlach stared at that view with a pair of impressed – or maybe even fearful – eyes.

Vergil appeared once more, now standing a few meters away from you – all he had to do was climb the steps to finally reach you. Placing Yamato in its sheath, Vergil took a few long seconds to get the shiny blade to slide down and, with a click, make most of the demons – and whatever decoration that was left standing – fall apart in piles of flesh and blood.

You didn’t want to say you had warned them, but well… You had warned them.

“You’re too late, Dark Slayer.” With those words, Erlach reached the bowl – now even closer than before, since you dragged him back not to be so close to a judgement cut of that magnitude. His words were like a bell, waking you up to the reality that a single drip of your mixed blood in the gold, and it would all be over.

But Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again, as fast as he moved down the aisle to reach you, and the golden bowl was cut in half – cracking in some places, gold dust spilling at your feet.

“You should learn, demon, some things can never be taken by force.” Vergil’s voice was like a velvety murmur in the dark – and you knew, the quieter he grew, the more time he had to marinate his anger. “Love, is one of them. Respect, is another.”

Those silvery eyes finally landed on yours, as a faint smile spread across your lips. Love would be nothing without respect, and Vergil argued that earning your respect was one of the most honorable things you could have graced him with – not that the love was not of importance, but if you had never come to respect him, the love you shared would have never flourished… And the reciprocate was true.

“Well, well, looks like we’ve arrived in time.” You heard Dante sighing by the door, guns already on his hands. “Big bad demon is all yours, Verge. We’ll handle things back here.”

“Kyrie!” And you barely saw Nero as he ran towards Orcus with all the rage of the world in his eyes, slicing demons in the way with a revved up Red Queen and leaving a trail of fire behind him. Sometimes he was a lot like his own father, but other times, his uncle's heritage shined through.

Vergil didn’t even look back at the crew already killing the demons who fought and who tried to run away – he only had eyes for you and the filthy creature holding you in its arms.

“Last time I saw you, my whips cracked on that soft skin of yours, spawn of Sparda.” And for the first time that night, you heard some more emotion on Erlach’s voice – something close to hate. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he said he was… Maybe he was prone to violence after all. “You tried your best to hold back your tears as your filthy blood tainted the floors of Hell. But everything cracks, eventually.”

A jolt of pain burned across your skin on your back as if you were naked, as fast as a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t help but to wince at the feeling, even if Vergil and Erlach remained immobile. In a fraction of a second, you understood a little of that pain, of a memory in the back of Vergil’s head that came back like a kick in the stomach, and it seemed not to affect him at all – but you knew, you could feel what he didn’t show.

The pain was fleeting, but the anger wasn’t – that was yours and yours only. As you suddenly flinched, you took advantage of that moment of surprise to move your arms once again and the strength of your boiling anger to slash Erlach as you could, eager to take a piece of him… Eager to kill him after the suffering he put your lover through.

“Everything cracks indeed.” You murmured as he took one of his hands to his face, noticing the considerable gash you opened on his cracked skin – now pouring blood profusely. “Next, I will cut your tongue.”

You heard a quick chuckle from Vergil, silvery eyes observing you with so much pride – and a little of something else. Pride was always easy to see in him: the way he carried himself, the way he posed with his head high, the way his eyes admired that which he respected and loved… But care was a different thing. If you were looking at your lover, it would take you some time to notice, but his admiration for you was never ending behind his pride to be able to call you his.

“I do understand how you came to love this human, that I will admit.” Erlach hissed back at Vergil, licking his own blood from his fingers. Risking a glance at the cathedral, the demon assessed the situation: the bowl was broken, the demons were all but destroyed, fleeing from the weapons of Dante, Lady and Trish, Nero had Kyrie back in his arms and Orcus was nowhere to be seen. “I truly underestimated the depth of your feelings for such a fragile creature.”

“Eloquent words, but no wisdom behind them.” Vergil’s response was prideful as always, as he walked the small set of steps to reach you – and probably slice Erlach apart. “Fragile is far from what I would use to describe y/n. I will burn bridges, destroy cities, crush entire empires to protect those whom I love and respect. There is nothing of fragile in that.” Pointing Yamato at Erlach, the blade almost touched the wound you inflicted in the demon’s neck. “You should remember that as I kill you for this insolence, pitiful scum.”

His stern eyes glinted with a tint of blue, as Vergil’s teeth were already sharp in fangs. His hands around the Yamato already started to resemble claws and his voice, even if you would love it in all of its iterations, had that distinct demonic distortion. His blue fire engulfed him like a faint shadow, but it did make your lover look even taller than he already was. On the brink of his humanity, it would take only a spark to make him burst into his demonic form.

“King of Hell.” You mouthed at Erlach while pointing at Vergil right in front of you, as if to prove a point – the point you wanted to prove from the beginning: no matter what those demons did, Vergil was stronger and more powerful than all of them together.

And, of course, you could use another rush of power whenever you flexed that title. You just hoped no one else in the crew would see it: you’d be in for some harsh judgement if they did.

“I shall remember for the next time we meet, son of Sparda.” Erlach turned his fiery eyes to you. “And I shall see you again, brilliant Helen.”

With those words, the demon used its own blood for an incantation to flee a battle he would definitely lose – a smart move, even if you didn’t know where he went… And if that ominous warning was not something you would have wanted to hear. You would prefer to see him dead.

“Hmmm… Bold of this creature to assume it could steal your love like foolish Paris.” Vergil had to murmur under his breath, immediately turning around to face you, Yamato quickly back on its sheath. Before you could say anything, Vergil took your hand in his with a surprising gentle touch, only so he could analyze the bloody scratches on your arm – as well as allow his silver eyes to burn with wrath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, that’s the only wound. You don’t need to worry, Vergil.” Your answer, though, made his eyes fly to look into yours as if you had said one of the most jarring things he had ever heard.

“I will always worry about you. You know that.”

He didn’t have to say, you could feel it. You had felt his worrying ever since he had learned it was Erlach who kidnapped you and wanted to complete that mad bonding ritual. Vergil’s worry was in his fear of losing whatever love he managed to have in that godforsaken life of his, and that usually manifested in an unparalleled anger in him. All that wrath… It was one of the highest praises you could ever get from your lover.

Placing both of your hands to cradle his face, you didn’t allow Vergil to keep on speaking as you pressed your lips against his. It was one of the most effective ways you could rest that flame inside his heart and bring him some peace – the same way the droplets of rain seemed to want to wash away all the blood and fury of that night. It took him a couple of seconds to start melting under your touch, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to his body, as your kiss quieted the fear that burned inside his heart.

You parted from his lips, even if Vergil himself didn’t seem to want to do so. His breathing, though, was already going back to a normal pace and you couldn’t feel his fangs under your lips anymore. As those silvery eyes stared back at you, the blue tinges were gradually gone. You took your hands to his hair, taking the rebellious strands that were already falling on his vision and brushing them back into his usual hairstyle – and Vergil even allowed himself to thank you with a soft smile.

“I cannot help but wonder, though…” He finally murmured, voice back to his dark tone with no traces of his demonic side showing up. “What, in the name of the gods, you are wearing.”

“Apparently, this hideous thing is what demons consider a wedding attire.” You sighed back, still in his embrace. You refused to look down and see yourself in that ridiculous thing again. “I wanted to get rid of it, but alas, the other option was to be completely naked.”

“Hmmm…” You didn’t know if Vergil hummed or growled, but you did know he was quite unpleased by that sight – almost as much as you. Taking your hand, Vergil guided you around the enormous bonfire behind the altar, in a place the crew couldn’t see you. “Don’t move.”

Before you could even ask what he had in mind, the air around you warped and your clothes fell on the ground after a quick and clean judgment cut.

That was a way to solve things, but…

“My clothes…”

Vergil immediately took off his coat, wrapping it around you and keeping you close, helping you dress it and hold it closed in front of you. It was a lot bigger than your form, and definitely a heavy piece of clothing, but it smelled like him – and that was one of the things that could always calm the distress in your heart.

“We will find your clothes. But you cannot walk around dressed like a clown.” With you still in his arms, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your forehead, catching you by surprise.

A nice surprise that made you smile.

“On that, I agree with you. If we were ever to get married, I would have never worn such a thing.” You whispered back, making him chuckle while staring into your eyes again. Sometimes, the ice in his silver stare seemed to melt for a while, just like at that moment.

“You would be a beautiful sight to see.” His answer was also a whisper, and a rather unexpected one: that was something you never expected Vergil to say. He often mentioned how Sparda marrying Eva was a blessing to him and a curse to her, even if you insisted on arguing that probably wasn’t true; but you would never expect Vergil, of all people, would have imagined you on a wedding day… With him.

“Hey! Are you both makin’ out behind that bonfire? C’mon, it’s not time for that, Verge! Did mom never teach you to have manners?”

Dante’s voice interrupted whatever you could say in response, as Vergil already started to growl in annoyance at what his twin brother was implying. You headed back to the crew, twins ready to start bickering once again, as always. You saw Kyrie wearing Nero’s coat and couldn’t help but giggle – like father like son.

You sighed, finding Vergil’s fingers and entangling his between yours – his touch reciprocating immediately. It was time to go home.

*

“Your fingers are cold.”

Vergil held your hands close to him as you waited for the crew to drive back to the shop. Nico was smoking behind the wheel and you took some time to rest as everyone tried to find what the demons stole from you and Kyrie as well as where they found out about that binding ritual – or demonic marriage, as you began to enjoy calling it.

Your lover couldn’t stay away from you for too long, though. He came back after a little while, not wanting to admit he was too worried to leave you alone for more then a couple of minutes – even if you were with Nico.

He would argue if something bad happened, you would be the one doing the saving while Nico would be screaming around and trying to run demons over… And you couldn’t really disagree with him on that.

“Well, it’s part of my human condition.” You smiled back as Vergil had his mouth close to your hands, trying to warm them up with his breath. On the other hand, there was your blue devil, arms completely naked under his leather vest, oblivious to the weather. “I can’t keep myself warm while naked under a snowstorm like some.”

“Well, I cannot either.” Even if his eyes were a little harsh upon looking at you, there was also some amusement hidden underneath the ice. “Although I would survive enough to get you to safety.”

Vergil’s eyes went back to your hands while you kept on observing how he occupied himself with the task of warming you. His lips were close enough so you could feel them ghosting over your fingers, but never touching your skin. His rough hands cradled yours with a touch so gentle one would never expect from the likes of him. Everything about Vergil screamed danger, but when it came to you, it was completely opposite.

“I wished so bad you would find me.” You finally whispered, keeping your eyes close. Feelings weren’t easy for the both of you; somehow, you found that closing your eyes while being around only him was easier to allow your heart to open – and there were times Vergil did the very same thing when talking to you. “I… I did my best not to seem frightened. Kyrie needed me to stay strong, the demons couldn’t know and have the upper hand. But I was scared. I was lost. And I wished, deep inside my heart, you’d somehow find me in the darkness.”

“I know.” His answer was quiet, hands still wrapped around yours. You could feel Vergil’s breath as he spoke, slowly opening your eyes to find his looking back at your once again. “I know. No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

For a few seconds, the air lacked in your lungs and the words in your mouth. If you weren’t alone, you would’ve fought the tears that marinated your eyes, even if you didn’t want them to fall – they would rest there, making it seem like you were observing Vergil with a whole universe in yourself, just for him. And he would always appreciate that.

“As soon as I felt your rage, I knew you were coming.” You confided back, making him furrow his brows for a while. “I happen to be pretty good at energy work, Vergil. Remember sometimes I get to feel you back? I did today. And that’s when I knew I was safe.”

The last pieces of the puzzle arranged themselves in Vergil’s head: of course, when he got the strongest emotions from you, it was easier for you to get his. But when his emotions were too strong, that connection could work as well, for better or for worse – and he remembered how you flinched in the cathedral when Erlach mentioned how he tortured Vergil… When he was taken aback for a few moments suddenly feeling that pain he tried so hard to forget.

It was a shame you had to feel that too – his eyes went down to your hands while his eyebrows furrowed now from annoyance rather than confusion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered back, placing your fingers under his chin and making Vergil look back into your eyes. “I’m here for the good, the bad and the ugly – no matter how harrowing it gets. You can always rely on me, as I know I can always rely on you.”

“As long as time will have us be together.”

Vergil’s murmured response was crowned with a gentle kiss on your hands, making you smile softly in return. You knew he was still annoyed with the fact you felt the worst of his emotions, but at least you were safe – and, for now, he would have to settle for that. You just hoped one day Vergil understood you didn’t see those terrible things that happened to him as a flaw, but as something he didn’t have to carry quietly on his own.

It just made you respect him even more than you already did.

“You don’t realize what you are, do you…?” Your question was a little absent as you kept on observing his stern face, with those silvery eyes now staring at you in confusion and distress: his heart beating a little faster, concluding you finally came to your senses that you had decided to give your love to a devil. “You deem yourself as one of the cruelest and worst creatures to ever walk the earth, but you don’t realize… Demons don’t protect their loved ones like you did today.”

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making Vergil instinctively hold your waist so you wouldn’t lose your balance. All the while, you never allowed those vulnerable silver eyes to leave yours.

“Angels do.”

As you placed your lips on his, Vergil’s embrace held you tightly against him – and even after you parted, he remained holding you, his head hidden in your shoulders and your hair. Vergil was silent and didn’t make a single noise, but you could feel the tears leaking into your mouth during the kiss and later dropping on your neck.

His heart could take a lot of harshness and cruelty, pain and torture, without even flinching. But this time… It was the first time in his life that Vergil was seen as good.

And his heart wasn’t used to that.

----

*Inferno, by Dante Allighieri

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 21: all the ashes in my way

"But my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my way." -Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier

Regent Masterlist Part 20 A03 Mundane Macabre (Main) TW: mention of infertility

September finally came to a close without much fanfare. The month had seen the very world rocked and many people were still left reeling from the implication that they had very nearly had a war with the Infinite Realms to contend with. Gothamites were eager to get October over with, thanks to the Rogues deciding Halloween was the perfect time to launch an assault against the city. 

However, with the new found peace established between the aforementioned Realms and the mortal world, with the encouragement of the Phantom vigilante (a self-proclaimed ghost who haunts the Ridge), Gothamites cautiously prepared for Samhain celebrations instead. 

It was a big deal to Phantom. 

Outside of his vigilantism, Danny Nightingale was doing well in school, test scores and grades soaring through the roof. An almost visible weight had been lifted from his shoulders with the abolishment of the Anti-Ecto Acts. He even began to hang out with the youngest Wayne, Damian, outside of school to the surprise of many. 

The Waynes and Nightingales were becoming closer by the day with Jasmine and Jason’s relationship status revealed and all the cards laid out on the table between all involved. 

Jasmine and Dick Grayson bonded over their shared Eldest Daughter Syndrome, while Jazz and Steph bonded over villainous parents. Add Cass to the mix, the three women got along like a house on fire.

(The three enjoyed their girl time, bonding over clothes, movies and the occasional beat down.) 

(The two loved to tease Jazz about Jason.) 

With the two lovebirds (a Nightingale and a Robin), their relationship had changed dramatically…though only a few knew why.

There was something wrong with her body and for the life of her, Jazz could not figure out what it was. 

She’d been nauseous lately, especially when she was a good distance from the ground. Typically, one might chalk it up to a fear of heights, but Jazz had never ever suffered from acrophobia. Perhaps the altitude adjustment? That didn’t make sense either because she’d been a vigilante for months and had no physical reactions to sudden elevation change. She’d even thrown up a couple times on patrol. 

It also didn’t explain why her breasts were tender and aching. Her armor was lightweight enough that it wasn’t causing undue pressure, but the preternatural metal remained uncomfortable no matter what she tried. 

And her head was killing her. 

She’d refused to take patrol of regardless of her ailment, whatever it was. Her little brother could tell she wasn’t feeling well and had tried his best to get her to go home early even though Jazz refused. 

Her gut instincts were trying to warn her, to be hyper vigilant in her defense of the Ridge. There was something coming and Jazz did not want to be caught unprepared. 

However, it was during a semi-weekly girls night with Cass and Steph that Jazz’s life was sent careening off course into the wide blue yonder. 

The three women were hanging out in Jazz’s new apartment, a cozy place with three bedrooms that she shared with Jason and Danny, and we’re settling in to watch a movie that’d just been released on dvd (Eat Pray Love). Steph had spared Jazz a confused look at her odd mixture of popcorn and ice cream, but didn’t say anything. 

They’d barely started the movie, the warnings of anti-piracy ignored (gothamites) when Steph exclaimed, “oh!” 

Cass was quick to pause the movie while Jazz choked on a mouthful of sweet and salty goodness. 

(Sweet Cass merely patted her on the back.) 

“You’re pregnant aren’t you?” 

(Jazz had just gotten her airway cleared too.) 

Naturally, they had to wait for Jazz to recover from her choking fit and inhale almost an entire bottle of water before she was deemed fit enough to answer Stephanie’s question. 

“No, I’m not pregnant!” Jazz retorted, though the thought of-

baby?

 -Kept ping-ponging around in her head like a cracked jar of marbles. 

She couldn’t be pregnant.

“You and Jason have slept together right?” Steph questioned, a particular gleam in her eye that Cass copied almost immediately. 

“Baby?” The ballerina added in her blunt way of speaking. There was almost a palpable sense of excitement in the air now. 

And yes, Jazz and Jason did have sex, almost nightly if she was honest… but she couldn’t have children thanks to her ecto-contamination. 

(That day had been one of the most heartbreaking times of her life, being told she had no chance of being a mother.) 

(She had dreamed of a little boy and girl to raise, to love indefinitely.) 

(She had told Jason and could see he was a bit heartbroken too.) 

(Nonetheless, they had talked about adoption and fostering.) 

(Already planning the life they wanted together.) 

Jazz didn’t realize she was crying until Cass launched into her arms for a hug, spilling popcorn everywhere.

A/N: Here's the beginning of what I'm calling the "Angst arc". Its actually a pretty long chapter I had to split up. This will be combined with either parts 19 & 20 or 22 when its later posted. content warning because I know infertility can be triggering to people. Its part of the story for a reason, I promise.

The regent masterlist is updated with new parts and the unoffical playlist for the regent series.

Thanks for reading!

PS: Yes, black mask has no idea what he's in for.

PS 2: did you know Eat Pray Love came out August 13th, 2010? 2010 is when the social media AU is set for regent. Thought it would be cool to include a movie that would have just released around that time.

[scoobydoodean]

So I was thinking about 4.07 "It's The Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester" and how Sam genuinely tries not to use his powers during the actual fight with Samhain.

He's trading blows with this powerful demon, and the demon blood still in his system gives him immunity to some of Samhain's attacks, but it isn't Sam using his powers. He quickly starts losing the fight though, and then when he's pinned and goes for the knife, it gets knocked away out of reach. If he doesn't use his powers at that point, he's going to die. He's in a situation where he has no choice—and this is what he points out to Uriel when Uriel presses him at the end of the episode.

URIEL: Tomorrow. November 2nd, it’s an anniversary for you. It’s the day Azazel killed your mother, and 22 years later your girlfriend too. It must be difficult to bear, yet you so brazenly use the power he gave you. His profane blood pumping through your veins. SAM: Excuse me? URIEL: You were told not to use your abilities. SAM: And what was I supposed to do? That demon would have killed me, and my brother and everyone. URIEL: You were told not to.

And of course, Uriel simply repeating "You were told not to" does not work for Sam. Telling Sam to simply follow orders doesn't ever work, and as an audience member, it's easy to share in Sam's frustration. Uriel has no actual explanation—just a demand that Sam obey, and it feels like Sam is being pressed about something he genuinely had no choice about.

That said, Sam intentionally put himself in a foolish situation with Samhain. When Sam and Dean entered the mausoleum where Samhain was awakening the dead, Sam saw a bunch of people trapped with zombies, knew Dean could not just abandon them to die, and ordered Dean to help them while he ran off.

SAM: Help them. DEAN: Dude, you’re not going off alone. SAM: Do it!

What makes me insane about little moments like this is that people will completely disregard Sam quite literally barking orders at Dean here and in other places and fixate on Dean being "overbearing" by saying "You're not going off alone". Sam was the one who said Samhain was a BIG deal that Dean needed to take very seriously (i.e., nobody should be facing him alone). Sam is one demanding Dean follow his orders, and he's using a bunch of teenagers as leverage to enforce those orders. In other words, if Dean doesn't obey Sam's orders, people will die.

Sam wants to face Samhain alone. He doesn't want Dean to be there. He's trying to prove that he can do this alone—and he does try to do it without using his powers. After seeing what happened with Jack Montogmery in 4.04 "Metamorphosis", Sam genuinely wavered on continuing to drink demon blood. But then he realized he couldn't do this without his powers, he can't stand up to a demon this powerful alone without them. He's too weak, and in the mental state he's in and has been in since season 3, being weak—being powerless—is the last thing Sam can stand.

[tomtenadia]

Detours to You - 29

Hello all, Here we are with another chapter. Two more and we have our end. This chapter has a bit of drama but it's just related to Rowan's job.

Hope you will enjoy it.

MASTERLIST

The seasons had slowly turned once more and autumn was in full swing bringing a chill in the air and painting the streets and parks of Orynth in hues of oranges and reds. Rowan had been really busy at work. During the previous months he had started some of the project that were important to him, with the blessing of the commissioner, a few of his firehouses, had a bit of a shakedown after he made changes and got rid of the Perringtons in an attempt to make the job even safer. The man had been found guilty and had been removed from the TFD after the death of the three firefighters. The investigation had assessed that he had been the cause of the death of those men. It had been like they had lost them again. But the changes had been welcomed across all of his firehouses. It was still not a perfect system but he had seen great progress in the TFD. They had also opened a new station in a more remote area of the city that had been suffering from lack of proper coverage. The station was north and his house was now in that jurisdiction. Because of the location, and the fact that the land was under the Rangers dominion, the firefighters appointed had to undergo very specific training in dealing with forests and they had had to train in fighting wildfires to the highest level. Station 20 had a unique status and Fenrys had become its captain. It had been a no brainer for Rowan. The man had always loved challenges, he was the one who had taken all the extra training courses in hazmat and other specific activities. He had been captain only for a few months but he was doing a grand job. He hoped they would not have to deal with any wildfires, mostly because his house was on forest land and he selfishly loved it.

In the past few months his house had become his safe haven with Aelin and Maya. His mum had moved to a house down in the village but as she promised she had been extra helpful, especially when Aelin needed help. 

Aelin, who was now almost at full term and still working, notwithstanding her parents and his mum adding to his protest to go on maternity leave.

Rhoe would apologise for passing his stubbornness to his daughter.

Maya as promised had been helping him and he and Aelin had involved their daughter in every step of the pregnancy. They had bought her a book for her age to explain about what was happing to her mum, they had taken her to some of the checkups and the girl had been excited at seeing her brother on the black and white screen. She was a proud big sister and loved to tell everyone.

Their lives had slowly settled down and he and Aelin had decided to wait until their child was born to get married. He had thought about eloping but then decided against it. He wanted his parents and his friends on the day. But both he and Aelin had agreed on a low key event.

On that crispy autumn day he was in his car back to his office when his radio became alive with a call. Rowan switched on the sirens and went to the fire site.

*

Aelin was done being pregnant. Tired of her swollen feet, aching back and useless bladder. She probably should start listen to Rowan and actually stay at home but the idea horrified her. She wanted to be in her shop with her friends. Plus Samhain was getting closer and they were getting ready to host and event. This was the last one she kept repeating herself as she collapsed on her chair in her office. Her belly had felt tight all day and had felt contractions all day. She was positive it had been Braxton Hicks since they had been still quite spread out. With Maya had all happened so fast that she had not gone through the slowly labour progression described in the books. No, once her daughter had decides she was done staying inside her she had forced her way out. 

“You are going to behave better than your sister, yes? You still have two weeks.” She caressed her bump and her son kicked in reply. He had been really active that day.

Aelin went to the loo for the millionth time that day and then decided to join Lys and Elide at the front.

“Hey fatso! Miss us?”

Aelin groaned. Her back was screaming.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out heavily “baby here is quite active today.” In that instant a much stronger contraction hit her and Aelin froze. That was definitely not Braxton Hicks. It had been far too long.

She followed Lysandra and sat down at the counter.

“Do you have your bag in your car?”

“Lys, it’s not time yet.”

His friends scoffed “that’s what you said with Maya. Five hours later you were in hospital with a baby girl in your arms.”

“I am—” another powerful contraction. Aelin counted the time. Another long one. She was okay. It was not labour.

“You are what?”

“I am fine.”

“You stay put and are on till duty only.”

Aelin looked at Elide “I wonder if Aedion knows how bossy she is.”

“Oh your dear cousin loves me bossy.”

“Ewww, Lys.”

The woman walked away laughing and leaving her with Elide.

“I bet all of this is putting you off from being pregnant.”

Elide’s stare darkened “not really.” She said quietly “Lor and I have been seeing a fertility specialist. We have been trying for months but nothing happens. According to the doctor we are both fine I just…” her friend paused and Aelin extended her arms for a hug “why is it so hard?”

“El, it will happen. Are you guys trying any treatments?”

The woman nodded “We have the first appointment in a week.”

“Good. Now go and be with Lys, I have the till under control. I will place some orders from here.”

It was an hour later when Aelin had started to feel worse. And it was when her last contraction lasted far too long that she had started to think that maybe, maybe she was in labour.

“El?”

“What?”

“I think…” she breathed through the pain “I think I am in labour.”

“Holy shit. Lys!” She shouted looking for the friend.

“What’s happening.”

“The baby is coming.”

They both stared at Aelin holding her bump.

“You two,” ordered Lys “go to the hospital, I close the shop and follow.”

Elide nodded and started walking with Aelin when she stopped “what is it?”

Aelin looked down and saw a puddle at her feet “I guess that was my water…”

At the hospital they got Aelin admitted and settled. The doctor had confirmed that she was in active labour but was only two centimetres dilated. It was still a long road.

“Have you tried calling Rowan?”

“He is not answering.”

Aelin swore. Whether it was from the pain of the frustration she did not know. 

“I’ll try Lor.” When her husband failed to answer too she suspected they were working “Lorcan is not answering either, I guess they are on a call.”

“Of course, I am in labour and there’s a friggin emergency.”

“I have a friend at dispatch.” Elide dialled the number and spoke to her friend at the centre that allocated emergencies to first responders. “Ok, thank you, Evangeline.”

“What?” Asked Aelin at her friend’s face.

“One of the tunnels of the metro has collapsed on top a train in a spot in-between stations.”

Aelin froze “put the tv on” and Rowan’s face appeared on the screen. He was in his bunker gear with his white helmet on. She knew he hated talking to the press.

“We still don’t know what caused it. Our main priority now is to rescue the passengers and put out the fire.”

The reporters asked him why the rescue had taken so long and she saw him restrain his anger “the collapse has happened between Market and South End stations. It’s quite a long tunnel and the metro was in the central part,” he explained “we had to wait for the power to be cut off and we also had to carry all of our equipment down here and create a bridgehead as quickly as humanly possible. My men are making progress inside and fighting the fire at the same time.”

“What do you expect to find inside?”

Rowan remained silent and excused himself saying that he had to go back to work.

In that instant Lysandra stormed inside the room “did you see?”

Both nodded and Lysandra sat down on a chair “I was about to take the metro to avoid rush hour traffic…” a pause “I… I could have been on that train.”

All the afternoon they kept the tv on for updates. Aelin battled through her labour slowly progressing. She had called her parents and Eiddwen but told them to stay put for the time being as nothing was happening and Lys and Elide were already doing a great job at fussing. Eiddwen was due to pick up Maya from hockey practice and she hoped by that time her brother would be born and Rowan back with them.

She followed the disaster with his two friends and the three of them had fun insulting the reporters making stupid suggestions and theories. The whole situation seemed to develop slowly and as Rowan had said in his brief interview, getting access was very hard and they had a fire to battle too. The situation got worse when the ground above started to crack. The traffic had been stopped, and the buildings in the surrounding area evacuated. The commissioner had also joined the scene to help while Rowan was down below dealing with one emergency.

“You have chosen the worst day ever to come out, baby.” She patted her bump “your dad is over there trying to help as many people as possible.”

*

It was many hours later when Rowan finally emerged from underground. His men had fought the fire and then it had started the gruelling and slow process of trying and find some survivors. It had been one of the worst call of his career. The first two cars had been heavily buried under tons of cement, leaving no survivors. The end cars had fared better and a lot of them manage to get to safety thanks to a metro employee on his day off. He had opened the door of his car and had started guiding the passengers to the escape exits the had built along the tunnels. While he was ferrying the people in his car he had started using his phone torch to attract the attention of the passengers of other cars. He had saved two cars before the explosion engulfed the tunnel. Rowan had joined in in the rescue mission as soon as they finally managed to advance but as they progressed they knew they would find no survivors. It was when the call came about the road above at risk of collapse that he called for the retreat but as he was about to walk away, his head-torch illuminated a section under the metro carriage where he saw a group of people huddled together and alive. Lorcan had called his team and quickly they had evacuated them. Not long after they had reached safety the rest of the tunnel collapsed and a few cars plunged in the darkness. The rescue had been conducted from above and the passengers saved.

He was exhausted, his soul aching at all the lives that they had lost on that day. It had a been a fucking disaster. Every first responder’s nightmare.

Once outside he took a deep breath of fresh air until Asterin grabbed him and showed a mask on his face “no complaints, chief. It’s protocol. You all breathed shit for hours down there.”

“Victims.”

“Chief, you deployed mass casualty protocol. We have all the ambulances in the city deployed. We can use two to treat the first responders.”

He sat on the ambulance in silence until Asterin was happy and let him go. He reached the commissioner and saw the sinkhole that had opened in the middle of a busy intersection.

“Rowan,” the man patted his shoulder “terrible day.”

“We tried…” he apologised.

“I know. You and your men have done a fantastic job.”

Rowan felt they had not done enough.

“I know what you are thinking and I need you to stop feeling guilty.” The commissioner turned him to a group of people just as dirty as they all were “that man was a metro employee. He managed to evacuate two cars via the safety exits built in the tunnels.”

Rowan gasped “only two.”

Commissioner Darrow nodded “it’s all he managed. He ran out of time.” He added with sorrow in his voice “it was just before the fire hit.”

Rowan went to the man and shook his hand, then removed the ribbon with insignia of the the medal of valour that he had been given and pinned it on the man “this is a medal of valour that I have been given a while ago. I think that you deserve it more than me for what you have done today.”

“I am a train conductor, I used to drive the metro before the safety tunnels were built. I lost friends and colleagues in the massive fire of fifteen years ago.” The man explained with deep grief in his voice “I never thought that I would end up using them. I am just sorry I could not save more.”

Rowan placed his hands on his shoulders “you saved two cars. Fifty odd people will be able to go home tonight to their families because of you.”

He spent a good half an hour walking around the survivors and talk to them. Then he paused and looked around. That section of the city looked like a mess, with the big hole in the middle, blue lights flashing, police tape everywhere, as many fire trucks and engines that could be squeezed and a few ambulances left behind to treat the survivors that had not needed the hospital.

It was another two hours later when the commissioner sent them all packing, saying that now was in the hand of the transport commission to ascertain what happened. Rowan threw his bunker gear in his pick up and then emptied a water bottle on his head. His face was verging on black. He sat in his car and saw his personal phone dead and cursed. Then he grabbed his work phone and found a scary amount of missed call. From Aelin, from Lys and Elide.

With shaky hands he grabbed the phone. Not another tragedy. He had enough for one day.

“Ae?”

“Rowan!” She screamed.

“Where are you? What happened?”

“Our son, he is coming.”

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[yetanothergreyjedi]

Left and Returned: Definitely Nothing Wrong

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Ao3 (includes additional notes)

Chapter 6:

"Did the police find any razors in the rest of the candy, Mrs. Wallace?" Dean listens to his brother interview the victim's wife as he searches for anything ‘weird.’ 

"No, I mean, I don’t think so… I just – I can’t believe it. You hear urban legends about this stuff, but it actually happens?"

"More than you might imagine."

Dean finds it, the hex bag stuffed between the fridge and the counter. He holds it up behind the widow's back so Sam can see. 

Sam sighs, "Mrs. Wallace, did Luke have any enemies? Anyone who might have held a grudge against him?"

"No, and if someone wanted to kill my husband, don’t you think they’d find a better way than  razors in a single piece of candy when there's an entire bag?"

And the lady would have a point, if they weren't dealing with a witch.

---

Dean bit into the chocolate, it was the cheap stuff that people didn't mind giving out for free, even when it he was and adult man two days before the holiday. It was too sweet and had a weird after taste. Not great but worth it when Sam made a face.

"Really?"

"It's Halloween, man."

There's a rustling sound, Danny pulls another candy from its wrapper. He pops it into his mouth.

"You too? After the the razor blades?"

"I don't mind a few metal bits, adds crunch."

"Seriously?" Dean turns to the kid, who's watching them innocently, "You chowing down on sheet metal when we're not looking?"

"I might be, you'll neeever know."

"Uh-huh." Dean was pretty sure he was messing with them. Pretty sure. "Find anything interesting Sammy?"

"Hexbag has some serious stuff. This plant has been extinct for 200 years, this coin looks real, 600 years old real... and this," Sam lifts the little burned thing. "Is the charred metacarpal bone of a newborn baby."

"Gross. Witches man, I hate'm."

"Well, we're dealing with a powerful one. Getting stuff like this, wouldn't be easy."

"That or they're super rich." Danny offers. 

"What would a super rich guy get out killing a soccer dad?"

"Wants revenge on the guy who married his college sweetheart who got away?"

"Uh... sure? Do you have a name?" Sam asks.

"No, I was just throwing out possibilities."

"So we have nothing."

---

Then there was the second hex bag in a random high-schooler's party, a girl boiled alive in room temperature water. 

"Maybe this witch isn’t working the grudge, maybe they’re working a spell..." Sam skims over an old creepy book. "Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest. Celtic Calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October 31st."

"That's an incredibly inefficient way to summon Frighty." Danny mumbles. 

"Frighty?"

"Fright Knight, Spirit of Halloween."

"The demon the witch is trying to summon, Samhain? You know him." Sam clarified, Dean watched the kid carefully.

"Not by that name.” He flopped back on the unclaimed bed that would probably Dean's but was currently serving as a couch. “Names are important. And he's not a Demon he's a spirit."

"Samhain, the origin of Halloween, the Samhain the Celts believed in.  October 31st was the night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, Samhain’s night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcised centuries ago."

"And in those centuries Halloween changed, became trick-or-treating, pranks, parties, candy and horror movies. The idea of Halloween itself, the spirit of Halloween. Fright Knight shed his old name and became something to reflect that. He won't like you dredging up past identity."

"You're sure you don't just know a different guy?" Dean asked. He wouldn't believe this if he hadn't still had the Autumn Dance's song echoing in his dreams.

"Yeah, Frighty's sensitive about it."

"So this witch is summoning what? More Halloween fun?"

"No, he'll be mad. Probably send her to a nightmare realm, but it won't go past that."

"Well... good."

"And you're sure?" Sam asks, "According to this once he's raised he can do raising of his own."

"Frighty wouldn't."

"Alright... still we should find this witch before she kills anyone else."

"Of course."

---

A whole day of stakeout to find out that the cheerleader had lied to their faces, she'd had access to both houses, claiming to never have heard of the Wallace's. Then they find her history of violence, the fact that she's emancipated and very well could be living fake ID to fake ID.

Finding her on the other hand... was proving more difficult. 

Danny had even walked them through a couple of front doors, like straight through the front door, like they were the ghosts. It was weird, and cold, and super useful even though it didn't amount to much. 

They needed a gameplan. And a gameplan seemed much more likely to drop into their lap when Danny opens the motel door and says, "Oh, hi Castiel! 

"Danny," Castiel greets, "Dean. Sam."

"Oh my God!– er– uh– I didn’t mean to– sorry. It’s an honor, really, I– I’ve heard a lot about you." Sam expertly fumbles as he moves out of the entryway. 

"And I, you. Sam Winchester... The boy with the demon blood... Glad to see you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities." Wow... awkward. 

"Let’s keep it that way." Adds a guy staring ominously out the window.

"Yeah, okay, chuckles." Dean turns to Castiel. "Who’s your friend?"

"The raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?"

"Not yet, what's it to you?"

"Have you found the witch?"

"We know who she is."

"Is she dead?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"The raising of Samhain is one of the 66 seals."

"So this is about your buddy Lucifer."

"Lucifer is no friend of ours." Says nameless angel #2.

"It’s just an expression."

"Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs. And the witch knows who you are." Castiel lifts a Hexbag.

"This was inside the wall of your room. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or both of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?"

"I would've found it. I only just got back." Danny defends and both angels' attention snap to him. 

Danny has offended #2 "You cannot be certain of—" 

"It's a pretty strong energy, I doubt some drywall would stifle it much." 

"Regardless. You need to leave this town immediately." 

"Why?"

"Because we’re about to destroy it." Castiel informs them. And Dean expects it when the air goes cold. The angel's shift uneasily, but they don't pin Danny as the source.

"Your plan is to smite the whole friggin’ town?"

"We’re out of time. This witch has to die, the seal must be saved."

"There are a thousand people here." Sam argues

"One thousand two hundred fourteen." #2 corrects.

"And you’re willing to kill them all?" Dean can hear Sam's faith shattering, and he hates these guys even more.

"This isn’t the first time I’ve… purified a city." #2 tells them

"It is regrettable." Castiel sympathizes.

"Regrettable?"

"We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already."

"And we're just supposed to let you?" Danny asks. "Because of your apocalypse's prophesied precursors?"

"It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here."

"And ten years ago they said Phantom was inevitable. They said only one half'a life, against six billion. But guess what? We're all still here."

"The abomination." #2 recognizes, from whatever this story Danny is telling is. Frost snakes up the windows. Their breaths fog in the air, but #2 is undeterred. "This is not the same."

And the Angel's do notice the change, but instead of Danny, they turn to glare at Sam .

"No," Dean lies, because he doesn't want to know if Danny is being stupidly arrogant or if he actually can take these guys. Part of him knows the collateral of either outcome... he doesn't want to know. And he's ticked off, and the angels are looking at Sam like they're going to smite him for something he's not even doing. So, he bluffs, if it backfires then Danny can do whatever he planned to do. "if you’re gonna smite this whole town, then you’re gonna have to smite us with it, because we are not leaving. See, you went to the trouble of busting me out of hell. I figure I’m worth something to the man upstairs. So you wanna waste me, go ahead, see how he digs that."

"I will drag you out of here myself." #2 tells him, and just him, Dean realizes. They aren't offering to save anyone else. He's even more sure this is the right thing.

"Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me, then we’re back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch. Sounds to me like you're compensating for something." He turns to Castiel who, oddly, is more sympathetic than his friend. "We can do this. We will find that witch and we will stop the summoning."

"Castiel! I will not let these peop–"

"Uriel, that's enough." Castiel holds up his hand, silencing #2 whose name is Uriel, apparently. Castiel watches Dean for a long moment. "I suggest you move quickly."

---

"Do you guys have this? I think I should spy on them." Danny says when, presumably, they're out of the angel's earshot.

"You trust this Halloween guy?"

"With the jewels behind the throne." At some point Dean will stop being thrown by the things the kid says. At some point.

"Right... Then they're the bigger threat. We'll figure it out, call us if they're planning a double cross."

Danny vanishes from the back seat. 

"You okay?" He asks Sam, who still looks miserable. They do say to never meet your heroes.

---

"The decision's been made." Castiel tells Uriel. Unfortunately, he does not elaborate on what decision, or what outcome has been decided on.

"By a mud monkey." Uriel laughs bitterly.

"You shouldn’t call them that."

"Ah, it’s what they are, savages, just plumbing on two legs."

Danny flips himself over the bench the angel's share, so he sits between them, upside-down so his feet hang over the backrest and his head dangles off the edge of the seat. It's not a defensible position... for someone worried about silly things like corporeal objects. "That's mean for a guy who's currently wearing a human person. At least show some respect for him."

The angels don't jump, and he didn’t really expect them too, but it's always fun when they do.

"And it's close to blasphemy." Castiel warns Uriel, but Danny heeds the warning as well. Castiel seems to be on team let-the-town-live instead of team nuclear bomb, and Danny would like it to stay that way, so he's not going to try to narrow down where in the realms these guys are from. (At least today.)

Uriel sighs, "Very well. But I do not take orders from this one, regardless of his involvement in the Abomination's unmaking."

Huh? 

"Of course not. Why are you here, Danny."

Huh? Okay normally when beings like this start throwing around words like abomination, they're talking about him.

"I'm keeping an eye on you guys. Obviously."

"We are not planning to break the seal. Your priority should be the witch."

"Yeah well, Frighty hasn't expressed desire to end an entire town."

"We are trying to prevent the end of your world." 

Danny doesn't say 'I am the end of this world.' Because he's not, because he refuses to be and they probably won’t get that he's joking. He doesn't say 'I could've been the end of this world' because... they don't seem to know that?

"Like the Observants failed to do?" He says instead and he wish- no he was disappointed he hadn't sat so he could see the angel's faces. He wonders if they have members in that group.

"The Observants succeeded." Uriel corrects. And isn't that interesting. Did the Eyeballs lie to angels? Danny wouldn't put it past them.

"No, no they didn't. They handed it off to the Timekeeper, who disobeyed. The "Abomination" just didn't feel like much destruction."

"It lives?" Uriel demanded. 

"Nothing dead lives." Danny lied. 

"It still exists, and you know where it is." Castiel guesses.

Danny stands, like a normal person would stand because apparently angels can't tell what they're talking too. Maybe it's the anti-Vladco-tracking-device device in his shoe? But yeah, standing like that means he has to awkwardly unhook his legs and climb off the bench. "Obviously."

"Where?"

"Ah, no. I thought we established that I don't trust you."

Uriel stands, fast, so fast a human might not track it. "You will tell us."

"Will you try to make me if I'm under his protection?"

Uriel stops, doesn't quite get in his face.

"The world isn't going to end." Danny tells them, it's almost a promise.

Castiel stands. "So you'll ignore what Samhain will do? Because you don't believe the seals hold power?" 

Danny sighs, “ Fright Knight , his name is Fright Knight.”

“Does his summoner know that?” Uriel asks, with the smugness of someone who knows old magic. 

“What do you know?”

---

Dean feels a little uneasy when Fright Knight rises in the dying man's body. He feels doubt when he calls the witch beautiful, hopeful, when he kills the witch, and doubt again when he calls her a whore. Like sure, but it doesn't feel like something Danny's friends would say, you know? Then again, he's Danny’s friend and he's not really above it? Maybe he's just reading into it because of Ruby, and Lilith, and every other demon who's shown utter disdain for their followers. Still, he thinks the kid would at least give the guy a disappointed look.

But Fright Knight didn't seem bothered by them playing dead on the ground, faces covered in blood because of Sam's quick thinking.

He didn't seem delighted by the trick-or-treating or the decorations like Danny said he would be. They follow him to the cemetery and arrive just in time to hear the screaming start.

They split up, Dean frees the kids and starts in on the zombies. It's easier to let the rage flow as he hacks at the hungry undead. It's easier than confronting the thought circling the back of his mind.

Danny lied. Danny lied. Danny lied.

The kid shows up around the time things start to get tight. He drives someone into one zombie's eye socket and blasts another away with some kind of green fire. It gives Dean the moment he needs to lock the rest inside their vault. 

Then Dean punches him in the face. His fist connects. Danny staggers back, clutching at his nose, but then his eyes go wide.

"The witch didn't summon those, did she?"

"Ya think?!" Dean swings with the weapon. This time the kid dodges cleanly and is running. Dean gives chase.

"Where's Sam?! If I was wrong about this, then—" he cuts himself off, deciding which path to take as it forks. Dean swings again, this time Danny blocks and disarms. Intangibility, Dean realizes, Danny simply just pulled the weapon from his hands. Then he tosses it away. "Dean, where's Sam!?"

The panic looks real. Feels real, Dean can taste it on the air. Can Danny fake that? What would be the point of pretending after he's won?

Dean shakes himself, and points in the direction Sam went. They both run in that direction.

They arrive to see Samhain throw Sam across the room.

"Fright!? What are you doing?" 

Samhain sees them, and Dean is flying backwards. He hits the wall hard.

"Fright! It's me!" Dean blinks and Danny is floating off the ground.

"You should know better," Samhain tells him, "than to use a name unclaimed by one such as me, Phantom."

"That is the name you gave to use!" Danny flies back, joining Dean in a hard impact against the wall.

"No longer!" Samhain shouts.

"No!"

"I am far more than you can ever—" Samhain chokes. Sam stands on the other end of the room, his arm outstretched. His face twisted in struggle. 

Then demonic smoke pours from the man's mouth. It crackles on the ground, Dean sees a glimpse of hellfire before it vanishes. The body Samhain inhabited, crumples to the ground.

---

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean demanded. Danny stands with the motel door half open. 

"There's something I need to do."

"After that? You think you're just walking away?!"

Danny holds the door open for him. Dean looks to Sammy.

"Want me to come too?"

"We'll talk later." Dean decides, because he doesn't want to be sidetracked by a fight with his brother. (And it will probably be a fight.) He walks out, and follows the kid down the street.

Danny pays a trick-or-treater twenty dollars for a plastic costume sword. He steals a jack-o-lantern off someone's porch, and finds a place where they're not likely to be distributed for a while.

"Are you helping, or just waiting to see if you need to shoot me?" Danny asks, there's no threat or demand in it, just weariness.

"What would I do if I was helping?" Dean asked. Danny turned the plastic blade in his hands and started carving into it with his knife. 

"I need a devil's trap." 

"You're summoning a demon?!"

"...Not if this works..."

"Explain."

"They're the same person, Fright Knight and Samhain. But the witch summoned Samhain, pulled his past self to the forefront, and Samhain rejected the new name... maybe, if I summon Fright Knight by his way... maybe it will bring him back?"

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then even if I'm making the trap, you're checking it beforehand."

Dean sighed. If the kid had been his usual joking self, he'd tell him off. But he was solemn, sad, and was etching symbols into cheap plastic like it was a gravestone.  "Can I stop you?"

"No." 

Dean sighed and started drawing. He was always careful with devil's traps. But he paid extra attention to this, he made it as detailed as he was certain of without going back to consult Bobby's books. He checked and rechecked. As Danny made his own circle in mystery sigils around the pentagram. 

"It's ready." He told the kid, who checked his own work. Then he plunged the plastic blade into the pumpkin. He said some words in a language that wasn't Latin, and slowly pulled the blade free.

The blade that emerged was not made of plastic. Dean didn't know what it was made of, but the embedded sigils matched the ones Danny had carved, and its blade looked deadly sharp. Once the entirety of the sword was pulled free, a storm began inside the pentagram.

Samhain had been exorcised from the body he'd possessed earlier. Now trapped without a vessel, he amassed into a roiling black cloud that thrashed against the invisible walls of its binding.

The storm spoke with thunder and static. Danny replied with the cracking of lake ice and the silence of an infinite nothing. 

And Dean understood. 

Rage. 

Betrayal.

Mocking. 

Demand: Return. Return. Return.

Mocking. Destruction's intent. 

Dean sees it. In a year's time, what was Fright Knight's will, will no longer be in transition. People will do as they always do, preparing in joyful tradition for a night celebrating youth and horrors that they do not have to fear. Factories will churn, parents will spend precious dollars or days crafting or both, people will carve into pumpkins and hang cobwebs and plastic imitation corpses— and they will all do so, not with the intent of warding away Halloween's Patron, but with the intent to welcome him. Such power will be Samhain's. There will be ruin unlike any humanity has seen before.

 Fury. Betrayal. 

Plea: Return.

Mocking. 

Acceptance.

"Dean, can I borrow your knife?"

The English words pull him back from... whatever that was, but not quite pulling him free. If he gives him the knife, Danny will have both it, and the sword of unknown power.

He responds with a ground scuff of readying feet,  the fabric rustle of a repositioned gun.

Danny nods, replies with a turn of the sword. He holds it by its blade, holding it out to Dean handle first.

Dean takes it. 

Danny doesn't let go for a moment. "Careful," he warns, "Soulshreader is bound. She will try to return to her master."

Dean tightens his grip on the handle and Danny releases her. Dean pulls the demon killing blade from his belt and hands it over in the same manner.

Danny steps into the circle with Samhain and Dean watches a demon die. 

Danny steps back out of the circle and chokes on his sobs.

[jokeringcutio]

Ernst Toller x Reader (Witch)- Sweet Halloween (Contains smut)

AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. More stories will follow this month.

Fandom: First Reformed Pairing: Ernst Toller x Witch!Reader Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mention of inner conflict, Pastor x Witch, Explicit Sexual Content, Slight Bondage: Ernst is tied down, Reader on top. The prompt:

Tags: @ethanhawkelover01 Witch’s Night

The dimly lit living room felt suffocating as Ernst Toller sat alone on Halloween evening. The candy bowl rested on his lap, a weighty reminder of the children who would come knocking. It felt wrong to open it, but how could he keep his door closed for the children he wanted to bring into his church? He needed to be seen as someone charitable, as someone kind, and trustworthy. Perhaps then he could save the dwindling numbers of people actually attending his services.

The doorbell rang, jolting him out of his miserable thoughts. How to solve the issue of the dwindling numbers of his flock? How to return his faith in God? He put on a cheerful face as he opened the door, handing out candy to the children dressed in their costumes. But as soon as the door closed, his smile faded. Memories of his own son and his failures weighed heavy on him, leaving him feeling hollow inside.

He wished that he could feel worthy. That, for once, he would feel the Lord’s light shine upon him.

The doorbell rang again, and Ernst hesitated. Should he open the door? He reminded himself that Halloween was just a heathen celebration. He thought about Samhain, the ancient pagan festival from which Halloween originated, and how far removed it was from his own beliefs. It only made him feel worse.

His hand hesitated, but ultimately, he decided to let the false smile grace his lips once more. Opening the door, he found another group of costumed children.

“Hi there,” he said, a smile on his lips. “Why, aren’t you looking wonderful.” He handed out candy and complimented the children on their costumes, kneeling down to their height so he could fill their buckets and bags with candy. As he slowly rose again, he watched them leave. And then, behind the departing kids, you appeared.

How long you stood there, he could not say. Only that when he caught sight of you, it took his breath away.

Ernst's eyes trailed down your shape as he took in your appearance. You were undeniably gorgeous. But there was something unsettling about your appearance.

You were dressed as a witch.

Halloween, he had to remind himself. Even adults dress up for Halloween nowadays. It meant nothing, he told himself.  Yet, your eyes drew him in, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from you. For a moment, he thought you were the real deal: a sinful creature sent to tempt him.

He knew he should shut the door, but decency begged him not to. He had a reputation to maintain, even if the numbers of his church had been dwindling, even if you probably didn’t know who he was and what he did for a living.

"Excuse me," you said softly, "can I quickly use your bathroom?"

So that was why you had lingered behind, he thought. Of course, the thoughts in his mind had just been silly notions. Just because you were pretty didn’t mean you were here to tempt him.

Ernst hesitated, wary of inviting a stranger into his home—especially one dressed as a witch—but ultimately, he nodded and stepped aside, allowing you inside. "Sure," he said, trying to lighten the mood with a weak joke, "just don't cast any spells in there."

It was clear, though, that he was actually feeling tense. You caught the underlying tone and saw his clothes and the little Christian relics that adorned his walls and lay exposed upon his table.

As you walked past him, the scent of your perfume filled the air, intoxicating and dangerous. Ernst couldn't help but inhale deeply, his body betraying him as he felt a stirring deep within. Impossible. His cock started to stir deep in the confines of his pants, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to deny what he felt. You were like a forbidden temptation, impossible to resist. Why had he allowed you into his house?

Running a hand through his hair, Ernst watched as you disappeared into the bathroom. His heart raced and his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He was a pastor, a man of God. How could he find himself so drawn to a woman dressed as a witch, a symbol of heathenism and sin?

"God forgive me," he whispered, feeling the weight of his desires pressing down on him. You were beautiful, yes, but also much younger than him. He should not even think about it, should not want to crave touching you that way. But fuck, his cock hardened at the thought of having you in his hands. Of having a young thing like you moan and writhe on his cock. His own thoughts shamed him. The age gap only compounded his guilt, and yet it did little to quell the sinful thoughts beginning to invade his mind.

He tried to focus on anything else— the sound of the doorbell ringing in the distance, the wind rustling through the trees outside—but all he could think about was the way your eyes had locked onto his, the sultry curve of your lips, the seductive sway of your hips as you walked past him. And despite his best efforts, the image of your body pressed against his own relentlessly invaded his thoughts.

"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered, clenching his fists at his sides.

The doorbell rang and, swifter than before, he made his way to the door. This time, his smile was real. Handing out candy to the kids was a small reprieve from his unsolicited desires. But that distraction ended way too soon, and before he knew it, Ernst rested his head against the closed door, wishing silently that the bell would ring again.

There was a rustling sound behind him and he slowly turned to see how you emerged from the bathroom, your face flushed and your eyes sparkling with an intensity that made his knees weak.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft and sultry, sending shivers down his spine.

Ernst tried to maintain his composure, to keep some semblance of coldness in his response. "You're welcome." But his voice cracked, betraying his inner turmoil.

He took a step aside, hand on the doorknob, a clear signal that he wanted you to go. But instead of leaving, you stepped closer to him, your gaze never leaving his. Your proximity was intoxicating, and he could feel the heat radiating off your body as you leaned in, your breath warm on his cheek.

"You seem... troubled," you murmured, your hand reaching up to brush against his arm.

The touch sent jolts of electricity coursing through him, and Ernst realized that he couldn't resist you any longer. His eyes widened as he took you in once more. He wished he could have denied it, but the witch’s outfit only added to the sinful desire he felt. As if the devil’s temptation beckoned him and he, once again failing, could not resist. The temptation was too great; the allure of your sinful beauty had ensnared him, breaking down his resolve.

"Damn you," he whispered, as you took his hand and guided him back into his chair, your fingers tracing lines of fire along his skin.

"Is that what you want?" you teased, a wicked gleam in your eyes.

And as you pressed yourself against him, offering your forbidden touch, Ernst couldn't help but surrender to the darkness threatening to consume him. A dangerous and haunting desire had taken hold, and he would no longer deny it. He wanted you, craved your touch. He’d be damned if he were to let you go now that you were offering yourself to him so willingly.

As your lips met, a rush of urgency surged through both of you. His hands were upon your back, guiding you close, not allowing you to move away. Not that you would want to. You enjoyed the sweet taste of his lips.

Your kisses deepened, tongues dancing together in a battle for dominance that you quickly won. With a skillful hand, you produced a length of rope from your witch's garb and began to tie Ernst's wrists to the arms of the chair. You could see the darkened eyes as he looked up at you, the question visible in them. But he did not ask why you did it. He merely offered a small smirk and allowed you to continue tying him down until he was completely at your mercy.

"Trust me," you whispered into his ear, your breath hot and heavy as you secured the knots. His heart pounded against his chest. Oh, he trusted you all right. You felt the hot and firm bulge poking your thigh as you squirmed upon his lap. His lips parted in a gasp and his cock throbbed beneath his pants. He couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through him at being so vulnerable to you.

Your hands roamed over his body, teasing and tantalizing, eliciting gasps and shudders from the man beneath you. He was exceptionally attractive when he moaned, and you slowly unbuttoned his blouse, revealing the toned flesh beneath, marred with the marks of his self-inflicted penance. Each button undone was like the peeling away of layers of his faith, leaving him exposed and raw.

"Such devotion," you murmured, your fingers trailing down his chest before dipping lower, unzipping his pants with deliberate slowness. His cock strained against the fabric, eager to be free, dripping the first droplets of seed and wasting it on the fabric of his waistband. When your hand finally wrapped around it, cupping his balls, he couldn't help but moan.

"Ah... yes," he breathed, his eyes clouded with lust. You straddled him, skirts bunched up high as you positioned yourself above his throbbing member, the heat of your core already causing him to shiver with anticipation.

"Ready?" you asked, a wicked smile playing across your lips. He could only nod, lost in the spell you'd cast upon him. And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you lowered yourself onto him, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. He slid in with ease, your juices lubricating his hardened, pulsing shaft.

"God..." he groaned, the pleasure nearly overwhelming him. The chair creaked beneath you both as you began to move, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding against him. He strained against the ropes, desperate for more of your touch, more intimacy, but you held him firmly in place.

Your hips moved expertly, creating a salacious motion that had your cunt milking his cock with each move. He groaned, teeth clenched, while his hands formed into fists. He wished he could grab you, hold you. It felt so good. So terribly good. How could this not be compared to heaven?

He desperately wanted to hold you and guide your hips with his hands. But he couldn’t. And didn’t that helplessness, that powerlessness, make it all the more delicious?

You could tell he was enjoying the power that you held over him and decided to tease him some more. Bringing your arms around him in a light embrace, you made sure to roll your hips smoothly, taking him in even deeper, hitting that delicious spot deep inside of you that made you moan and writhe on his lap.

It worked. Ernst threw his head back, eyes closed.

Then, an unpleasant mutter tumbled from his lips. “I see you now, God.”

Your hips moved against his frantically, breasts brushing against his chest while you moved a hand to grasp his cheek. He easily complied when you guided his head to look at you and opened his eyes again. The silent demand was clear. His lust-blown pupils met yours.

"Remember," you panted between thrusts, "it isn't God bringing you closer…It is me.”

Your words stoked the fire within him, and he watched as your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, your body convulsing with an orgasm that rocked you to your core.

"Please..." he begged, his own climax building, threatening to overtake him. Your walls were deliciously clamping down on his cock, begging him for his cum. His balls tightened, ready to blow his load deep inside. But just as he was about to come, you lifted yourself off of his lap, and his sperm shot forth, streaking across the skirt of your witch's dress. The sight was sinful and mesmerizing all at once.

"You've been a naughty pastor," you teased, leaning over him to untie the ropes. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Your eyes darted down to see his pulsing cock. His shaft glistened with juices. Your juices. You licked your lips at the sight and watched till the last ropes of cum, till his sack had emptied and his twitching member was slowly becoming limp.

With a gentle hand, you untied the ropes that had held him bound. Then you quickly righted your skirt, tucking yourself back into decency while Ernst did the same. The air between you was thick with lingering desire and unspoken questions.

"Wh-what have I done?" Ernst's voice trembled as he buttoned his shirt, avoiding your gaze. "As a pastor, I shouldn't have...I've lost my way. I don’t even know who you are."

You tilted your head, watching him grapple with his thoughts. For a moment it felt like you lived in some sort of twisted fairy tale, where the Prince danced with Cinderella and realized that he never even asked her name. Was Ernst willing to know more about you? It felt that way.

His hands shook as he adjusted his collar, trying to regain composure. "Ernst," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched but didn't pull away.

"Your faith isn't gone, just...misguided." Your words hung in the air, heavy with truth.

"Maybe," he whispered, glancing up at you. His eyes were filled with longing and confusion. The doorbell rang, but at that moment, he leaned closer, his chapped lips parting, seeking solace in another kiss.

Your hand blocked his movement, his lips brushing gently past your fingertips instead. A look of confusion was upon his face when he looked up to see you smile. You stepped away from him, uncaring about the traces of cum visibly smeared upon your skirt. And then you opened the door for the eager trick-or-treaters outside. Their laughter and excitement were a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere behind you.

Ernst followed you to the door, his mind racing. Was this encounter a test? A punishment for his sins? Or perhaps a chance for redemption?

But then he saw your bright smile as you handed candy to the kids and felt a warmth blossom inside his chest. No, he thought determinedly. What he had done had been right. You had been right for him. The right medicine. The woman he’d been waiting for. A blessing turned into flesh.

“We’re running out,” he heard you say, and with a quick nod, turned around to fetch a new bag of sweets that he had lying on the table in the kitchen. He grabbed it, thinking hard about what he wanted to do next. His somber evening had lit up entirely. He could still feel the rope as it seared into his skin, not like fire but like the touch of a lover. To think of how he had enjoyed being at your mercy. He desperately hoped you would do it again to him. With the bag in his hands and a smile on his face, he returned to the door to find the candy bowl empty. Just like the doorstep. His smile fell.

Looking around, calling out for you, he had to conclude that you were gone. Like a phantom, leaving only the residue of your touch on his skin and the echo of your voice in his ears. His eyes traced the street filled with kids trick-and-treating, their laughter echoing through the night. A gentle twitch of his softening cock reminded him that you had definitely not been a dream. The feel of his empty balls and the slight buzz of the afterglow only confirmed that you had truly been there, not too long ago.

"Please," he whispered into the void left by your absence, "come back to me."

He hoped you would hear his plea. And perhaps, somewhere in the darkness of the night, a young witch sat on the porch of a house and heard that silent plea. And it made her smile, just like him, eager for more.

~ Fin ~

AN: Liked my work? :) ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ Love you all

[siriusblack-the-third]

Headcanons for Sirius black?

YES YOU CAN HAVE THEM

Smart. Like, really fucking smart.

Has silver eyes. Not grey. It's the brightest hue of silver you have ever seen, and he has this habit of staring straight into your eyes that makes him absolutely terrifying.

Intimidating as fuck. He's six foot four and built like a fucking tank, and has the most intense Resting Bitch Face™ ever. People literally scramble to get out of his way when he's walking down a corridor.

French. I know I've posted about Indian Black Family, but I have a soft spot for French Sirius.

Has the best poker face ever. The only time you will see him fazed is when James is hurt, insulted, or in danger. The whole school learnt very quickly (as early as the marauders' second year, in fact) that going after James is a Bad Idea™. Sirius could and would kill them slowly and painfully if they dared.

Gets annoyed easily, but almost never gets angry. He's scared of his own anger, because it's so similar to his mother, and the only times he has ever gotten truly angry was once when he saw Regulus being tortured by Walburga and the second time at Peter on the Samhain of 1981.

The exact opposite of reckless. Contrary to popular belief, he hates jumping into situations before thinking shit through, and has stopped James from making impulsive decisions way too many times to count. Even when people think he's being reckless, he knows exactly what the fuck he's doing, what the consequences are going to be, and how to deal with said consequences.

Wears black and emerald green the most, but also likes sea/sapphire blue shades. Surprisingly, he hates wearing red, because the colour reminds him of the deep red velvet drapes and cushions in Walburga's room.

Plays the violin, and enjoys it. He's good at it, too. At Hogwarts, people will form a silent gathering in the common room to listen to him as he plays in his empty dorm. It's become a thing. Everyone thinks Sirius doesn't know,but James told him the first time it happened. Sometimes, he plays on the first day of school after the summer, winter or Easter holidays, as a form of comfort to the children who don't really feel at home in their own houses.

Absurdly competent. He's outstanding at everything, even if he doesn't work at it— one of those people who don't need to work to get excellent results. James is the same, and it annoys the fuck out of Remus and Peter, but they help everyone out with schoolwork a lot so nobody actually has too many negative feelings about it (ahem- except for one Severus Snape)

N E R D. Seriously. Will talk nerdy shit with James for hours on end, because both of them are Nerds™. I will die on the hill of Nerd!Sirius Black, and your opinion is invalid if it's not the same as mine bc my opinion is actually canon I don't make the rules.

Long, wavy hair. He had short hair up until the end of fourth year, but then puberty hit and he realised long hair went better with his developing features. Makes him look so much like his grandfather that he has been mistaken for Arcturus several times.

School heartthrob, but didn't actually date anyone/have sex with anyone in school. He found out he was on the ace spectrum in fifth year because asked James to kiss him. He liked it, but the thought of going further didn't excite him like he thought it would. So he asked Marlene, and the outcome was the same.

Biromantic. Sex positive asexual.

No man at Hogwarts is straight, simply because of him. He's ridiculously handsome, and has people fawning over him and falling over these to get into his good books. Unfortunately for them, Sirius knows the names of like seven people out of the four thousand students that attend Hogwarts during his school career, and can't be bothered to remember the names or features of the rest of them.

Rude but polite, if ykwim? Gets called mean a lot, but argues that rudeness is not the same as mean. Rude is when you can't be bothered with pleasantries, he says, and mean is when you're cruel just for the sake of being cruel.

Him not being mean does not negate the fact that his cruel streak is wider and deeper than the Grand motherfucking Canyon. He has a particular talent for weeding out your insecurities, and will not hesitate to use them against you if you piss him off too much.

Prefers verbal sparring rather than a duel, but any fight he gets into, he wins. He has both intelligent quips and powerful magic up his sleeves and he will use them to his advantage if need be.

Absolutely loves mint dark chocolate, for some odd fucking reason. James and Peter always give him shit for it, and he always laughs in their faces before taking an even bigger bite out of the bar.

Nobody knows how many languages he speaks. So far, people have heard him speak English, French, Ancient Greek, Old Norse, Gaelic, Latin and Italian. James gets asked the question "how many languages does your best mate speak?" and he breaks into silly giggles. Refuses to tell the answer, says he likes to keep people on their toes. (Sirius speaks nine languages.)

Wears eyeliner sometimes. It's bold and winged and perfectly done, and has caused multiple fainting incidents because of the way it makes his silver eyes stand out even more than they already do. He says it makes him feel powerful when his eyeliner is perfect, and James answers that he is more than powerful enough, he doesn't need any more.

[copiousloverofcopia]

HI there Ghesties!!!

I know it's been another long one since I posted, but your girl has soooooo much on her plate right now.

it's been really hard to find time to do my stories justice and I don't wanna just give you guys anything that I am not happy with.

So, thank you all for being so patient with me and I am back with some Hunter's Moon celebrations with our beloved Secondo x OC Marcus content for the lovely @ashley-ghuleh

Commissions are OPEN, please see pinned post for Carrd info!

💗 Special thanks to @gothdaddyissues for the beautiful dividers!

The Hell Torn Heart

After a recurring dream leaves Marcus, a half-demon/half-hellhound, dealing with the ghosts of his troubled past and visions of a place he has never been. He is unexpectedly thrust into an unknown world. Guided by a mysterious couple to the Ministry, surrounded by ghouls and siblings of sin. The once outcast struggles with what haunts him and learning to find himself—until he meets Secondo.

Chapter 5: Hunter's Moon

Also available HERE on AO3! Haven’t started yet? Read from the beginning HERE!

Definitely NSFW below the cut!

The sound of the ice clinking in the glass filled the otherwise hollow of the room. Secondo sat sullen at his desk, pulling out his bottom drawer and retrieving an old, leather-bound ledger. A group photo tucked inconspicuously inside. Between the faded and tattered pages—a totem of times long passed.

He sat back against his chair, looking down at the old Polaroid held in his right glove. Recognizing the handwriting of his elder brother—Samhain celebration. The year written now faded into a smear of ink. With only the faint hint of 19 still visible.

It was bittersweet now to look at it. More bitter than sweet if Secondo was being honest. A group of clergymen, all much younger than they were now, dressed in their best robes for the autumnal festivities. Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and even Nihil all in attendance, but it was the man standing just beside Secondo that held his attention. The man that held that bitter taste that lingered in Secondo’s mouth. James, his once good friend and colleague—Marcus’s father.

He had been sitting with the knowledge of Marcus's lineage for weeks. Holding in close to the chest while he waited for the right time to reveal it to his brothers. Debating to himself on whether or not Marcus would be safe if he chose to reveal it to the whole of the Ministry. After all he wasn’t the only one who James had betrayed. 

Staring at them in the picture. The perfect portrait of gluttonous fools who were high and mighty in both their lust for power and pursuit of sin. Each of them at one time like brothers to one another. Even James who at one time even Nihil considered a “son”. 

The pain of his betrayal still ached deep inside Secondo. A thought he had worked hard to push deep in the recesses of his mind. Finally, he became sick of looking at it. Crumbling up the photo in his hand and tossing in the dusty forgotten corner of the room. 

“Satana, potrebbe davvero provare a tornare?” he whispered to himself before finishing up the watered-down spirits in his glass. Just as he resigned to moving on with his work, there came a knock at the door. Secondo letting out a deep sigh as he called them in. His brothers just on time. 

“Fratello. You asked to see us.” Primo said, stepping into the office. Head held high and prideful as expected. He was always such a source of knowledge and reassurance for Secondo. Having practically raised both him and Terzo for their entire childhood, Primo was a father figure unlike anything Nihil could ever be.

“That I did, thank you for coming. I know it's a busy afternoon for us all.” he acknowledged watching as Terzo came following shortly behind. Secondo’s head had already begun to pound. Rubbing at his temples before motioning for his brothers to take a seat—they had much to discuss. 

“What's this about? You know I'm missing confessional for this.” Terzo huffed, slouching down in his chair like a petulant teenager who had convinced himself he had better things to do with his time. His annoying, although all too predictable behavior, sending Secondo and Primo’s eyes both rolling in their skulls. Knowing that the only reason Terzo would be miffed at missing his duties at the confessional, was because he was planning on spending the day fucking inside it. 

“There is a situation that has been brought to my attention and I think you all should know.” Secondo began, his eyes traveling over to the crumpled-up photo. Terzo, noting it. Hopping up from his chair to retrieve it, unwrinkled it to see the daunting image staring back at them. 

“It's…” he began, his mind flashing back to the night of James’s uprising. A night that his head was inches away from being served on a platter. Handing over the photo to Primo for him to see. The air in the room turned ominous as they all sat in a moment of silence. 

“He is Marcus's father.” Secondo admitted, breaking the quiet between them. Both Primo and Terzo's eyes widened at the news. 

“Oh cazzo. You have to be fucking joking.” Terzo sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Secondo's desk. Primo allowed himself to slowly sink back into his chair. The audible sounds of his bones and joints settling filling the space between them. 

“Are you sure?” He asked him, even though he knew that Secondo would not be the one to joke about such a thing. Understanding that for Secondo, it was especially devastating, if their new resident Hellhound and his brother’s unsung lover was the spawn of one of the Ministry’s, and the Emeritus line’s, greatest adversaries.

“I'm sure. He told me himself. Seems that he finally managed to summon a Hellhound of his own.” Secondo explained, exhaling hard with his words.

“More like found her, knocked her up, and took advantage of her, it sounds like.” Terzo hissed.

“Do you think he knows? Is war on the horizon for us?” Primo asked, worried that Marcus's appearance at their Abbey had been no coincidence.

 “You don’t expect James to just come strolling back, do you?” Terzo asked.  

“If he is being used to infiltrate us, I can assure you, he knows nothing of it.” Secondo groaned, realizing what Primo was implying. It was certainly something he himself had considered in the beginning. From the moment Marcus told him, there was always the fear in his mind that they were being set up. However, he couldn’t bring himself to think Marcus was involved. 

His feelings for the wayward dog were growing stronger with each passing day. Though he had yet to fully admit it to anyone. Maybe Marcus was trying to get close to him in order to give his father the upper hand. It would be his former best friend who would be most devastated to be betrayed once more by him again. He just couldn't bear to think it—something told him Marcus was genuine.  

“Aware or not…this spells trouble. We need to talk to him, find out more…”

“In time Terzo, I don’t think it would be wise to bring it up before the celebrations. Maybe after—until then we will need to keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground. I suggest we notify the clergy of possible threats and have the ghouls keep a keen eye out until we know more.” 

“I agree, no need to ruin the Hunter's Moon Hunt over sheer speculation.” Primo began, rising up from the chair so that he and Terzo could get things settled, “but fratello, make no mistake, we have to do something soon.”

“Agreed.” Secondo nodded as they headed out the door. 

The night sky was illuminated with brilliant shades of indigo, amber, and vermillion. The sun, having begun to set as the Hunter’s Moon hung high in the above. The enchantment, circling the grounds, emanating a haunting, green light. It had become something of a sport for the Abbey to celebrate this night. The night of the Hunter’s Moon—a time honored tradition. 

It started as a celebration of the feral nature of all Hell beasts. A time when their powers would be at their utmost capacity. Usurping the otherwise willfulness of them to be tamed—to follow commands. Now it had now become an opportunity for bets placed and gleeful indulgence. Everyone, excited to see who would be caught and when. 

The ghouls would be “hunted”—chased down and caught once again by their prospective Papas. The evenings celebrations, all culminating in a night of sin, power, and depending on the relationship between them, carnal desires and lust. The entirety of the Abbey, benefiting from the Hellish impulses and debauchery the night created. A perfect and proper display of their faithfulness of sin, meant to please Lucifer himself. And tonight, Marcus would officially join the pack.

Far down in the bowels of the Abbey, the dungeons were filled with ghouls. All of them snapping and snarling as they waited for Sister Imperator's command for the gates to be open. Releasing them onto the grounds while Primo, Secondo, and Terzo awaited them. Cardinal Copia, along with Aether and Dew and the rest of the newly summoned ghouls watching in awe. Their time to come once Copia would be allowed to ascend. Leaving them for now to be delighted spectators to the night's events. 

“Well now.” Primo remarked, noting the list of ghouls taking place in the hunt. “I see that although Copia brought him in, Sister is allowing the Hellhound to run for you huh fratello.” he finished, smirking at Secondo. The three Emeritus sons already prepared to take off on horseback after their ghouls. Like an old English foxhunt, ready to capture their prey. 

“I think we all know why.” Terzo jabbed back, “...seems the old man has grown quite smitten with the puppy.” 

“Ah…non riferirti a lui in quel modo.” Primo chided, worried about Terzo's lack of decorum towards their brother’s new charge. 

“It is alright Primo. It's a term of endearment...I think.” Secondo winked, knowing that the ghouls too called Marcus, “puppy”. A friendly nickname given to the new guy who they had only ever accepted as their own. 

“Whatever you say then fratello.” Primo nodded as Aether, Dew, Copia, and Sister Imperator approached them. The mass of siblings, clergy, and remaining ghouls, all filing in on the back courtyard as they waited. 

The sound of anxious hoofs, shifting around on the old stone pavement echoed in the cold autumn night. Secondo exhaled as he waited patiently, his breath just visible in the air. All of them all bundled in their winter vestments. The hint of pinkened noses noted just beneath the brother’s papal paints.  

“Well now, have we all placed our bets?” Copia asked, smiling with his ledger and quill ready in hand. He was honored to be serving as unofficial bookie for the event. The Ministry, choosing to “look the other way” at the betting practice. It was a position that had long since been held by the Ministry treasurer. Which at this time, and for many years now, had just so happened to be the Cardinal. 

“We all know who's getting caught first.” Terzo chuckled, popping his neck from side to side, ready to ride. 

“That's because the two of you just want to fuck each other's brains out… no respect for the sport of it.” Primo scoffed. It was always Omega, Terzo’s ghoul and lover, that was caught first. The two of them barely able to contain themselves long enough before they would spend the evening entangled with one another, and usually a very willing sister, deep in the western wood. Showing more appreciation for lustful endeavors than they ever did for the Hunter's Moon celebration itself. 

“Pff.” Terzo shrugged, smirking once more as he still knew it was true. The youngest Emeritus son winking to Sister Jillian who stood amongst the crowd. The obvious choice for their lascivious plans with her ample bosom and bedroom eyes.

With Omega surely on his way to being “caught” first, it was more exciting to see who would be caught last—the one to hold out the longest. Would it be one of Primo or Secondo's ghouls? Would Marcus even have a chance of out running Secondo? Only the night would tell. 

“Ok last call for bets!” Copia announced as he finished up inscribing the last bit of guesses from the siblings and, although she was officially not supposed to, Sister Imperator. Who had discreetly managed to slip Aether a 20. 

“My money's on the dog." she winked. Aether, chuckling to himself as he quickly took the bill from her and made his way over to Copia. 

“Best betting pool the Abbey has seen in decades.” Father Jim delighted as he Copia and Dew stood at the bottom of the steps in the courtyard. Aether approached them, sending a wink to Copia as he handed him the money. Nodding in Sister’s direction as Copia immediately caught on. Jotting down her initials in the ledger. 

“Sí, Mammon would certainly be proud.” Copia said, nodding as well back towards her.

Marcus was absolutely feral. Teeth bared as drool rolled from within his mouth. His full Hellhound visage on display. Staying true in form along with all the ghouls around him. Their usual glamours, falling to the wayside as they all roared, hissed, and growled. Ready for the indication that the hunt had begun. Releasing them from their hold within the dungeons. 

“That old man better be ready” he growled. Pacing back and forth along the dirt floor.

“Don’t get too cocky, Cucciolo. That old man is one of the best I have ever seen.” Earth snapped. Playfully nipping at Marcus like they were a pair of hyper littermates. Playing with one another to prepare for the hunt. Marcus’s tail, wagging with excitement as he waited anxiously for things to begin. 

Then it happened, the shot rang out from Sister Imperator’s gilded pistol and the gates lifted. Unleashing them onto the Abbey grounds. Taking off full force into the woods beyond them. Only moments could they hear Sister Imperators voice on the megaphone.

“Let the Hunter’s Moon Hunt begin!” she called, allowing the Papas now to take off after them. Following them deep into the woods to be tracked and caught. Marcus began panting and howling as he ran. Deeper and deeper into these woods he had only recently come to know. Still a novice as he allowed his wild nature to take over—guide him on his way. 

He had never felt so alive. The cold wind, flowing through his hair as he ran. The light of the moon, highlighting his silhouette in an eerie reddened hue. Marcus, feeling his true power. What it really meant to be a Hellhound for the first time in his life. Unabashed, wild—free.

I don’t care what the others might say. The old man will never catch me, he thought. Reveling in this newfound freedom. Losing himself as he began frolicking, prancing, and running. Paying little attention as each of the Papas managed to capture a ghoul or two around him.

Marcus didn’t care. He was thrilled to remain uncaught. Feeling smug with his ability to evade his would-be captor. Feeling confident enough in his lead to stop. Hollowing up at the orange devil in the sky. Barking and running in circles when he heard the faint snap of a twig from behind him. It was Secondo, jumping down off his horse to pursue him on foot. The “old man was surprisingly fast for his age.  

“You will only get so far, Cucciolo! My track record is perfect.” Secondo yelled into the woods, only seeing a small speck of his target running in front of him. 

“Sure, old man, we'll see about that!” Marcus snarked, tongue hanging from his mouth as he panted his way up a hill.

A group of ghouls; Water, Earth, Alpha, and some of the others joined him on each side. All of them happily ran beside him. Stopping again for only a moment together to howl at the moon.

“Gotcha!” Terzo beamed, snagging up Omega swiftly and with ease. The big ghoul, who had shockingly held out longer than expected, melted into his Papa's touch as they kissed against a tree. Marcus couldn’t help but blush at their fervidness and passion. Wondering if he would allow himself to be caught. If only just to have Secondo once more in his arms, his mouth—.

Back at the Abbey’s courtyard, the crowd waited for the return of the ghouls and Marcus. Primo proudly had caught all of his ghouls in record time. Terzo was still, as expected, in the middle of the woods with Omega. Sister Jillian, now suspiciously missing from the rest of the group. Secondo too had managed to retrieve everyone—everyone except Marcus. 

“Cucciolo! Torna qui, piccolo stronzo!” Secondo yelled out. The whole of the Abbey listened as he spouted his frustrations in strings of profane Italiano. His boisterous rant pouring over the wind scorched trees and echoing towards them. The lot of them, amused at his vexation. 

Secondo couldn’t care less what they thought. Still hoping to get the jump on his new pet. The young Hellhound, however, was proving to be more of a challenge than he'd imagined. Feeling the age difference between them in a way he never had before.  

“How long should we let this go on?” Copia asked, struggling to hold back his own amusement. Watching as Marcus managed to evade Secondo's every move. His tail wagging behind him as Marcus did everything he could to mess with him. The siblings, clergy, and the rest of the ghouls all became dizzy as they watched Marcus running in circles around one another. 

“Just a bit longer….one of them will fall out.” Sister Imperator hummed, satisfied with the turn of events. Reaching back to grab her lump sum of winnings from behind her from Aether as she smirked. 

“When this is over I am never letting you off the leash again.” Secondo hissed. Angrily tapping the wrapped-up leash between his hands as he saw Marcus along the precipice of the woods. 

“Is that so?” Marcus grinned, running back inside. Secondo gritted his teeth. He needed to catch his willful pup, lest he’d never hear the end of the ribbing from his brothers. He yanked back on the reins, tapping his horse. 

“Yah!” Secondo yelled, the horse taking off fast after Marcus. The sound of its hoofs, loud in Secondo’s ears. Gaining on Marcus quickly. Delighted that he finally seemed to be slowing down. 

“Oh fuck!” Marcus yelped, looking over his shoulder to see Secondo following closely behind. He continued to run, flying past the blur of trees and brush. Secondo, still maintaining a close distance behind him when suddenly the sound of hoofs stopped. Marcus halting in his position and slowly turning around. 

Sniffing the air around him for Secondo’s scent. The air, so muddied with the scent of all the rest of the ghouls and the Papas, including Secondo, that it was almost impossible to discern him. Marcus, panting hard as he frantically searched his surroundings for a sign of movement. His ears piqued to any noise from within the trees. Reverting to his human form, wiped from all his expended energy. 

“Gotcha!” Secondo proclaimed, snatching Marcus up by his collar and throwing him up against an old corkwood tree. Marcus, turning to face him as their mouths came crashing together like ferocious waves. Tasting, needing—desperate for one another. 

“I need you.” Marcus moaned. As Secondo began undoing his belt. Marcus naked as the day he was born in the chilling air. The heat between them, keeping him warm.

 “I need you too.” Secondo groaned as he freed his hard cock from his pants. Leaking and throbbing with his intentions. Marcus practically salivating at the sight of him. 

“Then take me.” Marcus purred, turning around to rub his ass against the swelling of him. 

“I will do with you as I please.” Secondo hissed, attaching the leach to Marcus’s collar as he licked his lips. Sinking his own teeth into his young lover's shoulder—asserting himself as the dominant one between them. 

“Ah fuck.” Marcus mewled. Secondo, already nudging his cock against the tightly ribbed opening. Using his hand to smear the wealth of precum along his shaft. Easing his swift gliding straight into Marcus’s ass.

“Make no mistake. You belong to me now.” Secondo groaned as he began fucking him. His cock, quickly spreading out his hole to house him deep inside. Withdrawing back only to slam harder and deeper inside him.  

“Mmm…yes Papa….” Marcus moaned, bending further forward. His new position, allowing Secondo deeper inside. 

“Such a good pet you are, taking my cock so well. I’ve dreamt of this moment.” 

“Mmm...Secondo…ah! Fuck me too.” Marcus cried out as Secondo reached around to take Marcus's cock in his still gloved hand. The cool leather slick from Secondo’s cum along Marcus’s shaft. 

“That's right you little mutt, cum for your Papa. Cum in my hand while I cum in your ass.” Secondo demanded as he yanked back on Marcus’s leash once more. Railing him into complete submission. The sounds of his lap pounding against Marcus’s ass surely heard all the way back at the Abbey.  

“Oh yes! Yes!” Marcus called out, tears streaming down his face with the mix of pain and pleasure. Secondo, buried deep in his asshole. Practically impaling him on him, pressing hard along his weak spot. Marcus, quickly cumming all over Secondo’s hand. Face bright red and eyes almost crossed as he burst in his hand. 

Soon Secondo too couldn’t help but cum. Thrusting and pounding harder and harder until the warm liquid from Marcus’s orgasm ran over his wrist. The feel of it sending him over as he slammed Marcus’s ass down hard against his lap. Pouring ropes of cum deep in the back of him. 

When it was all said and done, they both laid spent on the ground. Breathing, slowly settling as Marcus laid his hand against Secondo’s warm chest. His Papa, wrapping them both in his vestments as best he could. The cold, now beginning to settle in as the sweat from their efforts evaporated from their skin. 

“You were amazing tonight.” Secondo hummed. 

“Really?” Marcus asked, a bit surprised that Secondo was so impressed with him. Both of them, still reveling in descent from their orgasms. 

“Truly. Everyone else had been caught tonight before you. You should be proud, Cucciolo.” Secondo explained. Marcus felt warm inside. Proud of himself for his efforts but completely enamored with Secondo that the victory paled in comparison. 

“Thank you.” was all he could muster. Secondo, pulling out a cigarillo to puff on before they’d head back in. 

“You’re welcome.” Secondo began when the post-coital reality began to set in. There was still so much to learn about Marcus—and if he truly knew about his father. Secondo knew he would have to tell him, but tonight was certainly not the night. For now, he would enjoy this moment between them—a rare moment of happiness.

“Happy first Hunter’s Moon.” Marcus smiled in his adorable naive, but charming tone. 

“Happy Hunter’s Moon.”

Notes: Satana, potrebbe davvero provare a tornare?- Satan, could he really be trying to come back? non riferirti a lui in quel modo.-do not refer to him like that.  Cucciolo-Puppy torna qui, piccolo stronzo- come back here you little shit.

[ravenekrops]

Hello! For some halloween spookiness, may I ask about the characters in your modern monster world? How do they feel about the concept of halloween? Do they dress up?

ah, you hit the nail right on the head! the nail of "this definetely has the potential to be an interesting worldbuilding tidbit to write but i have no idea how to tackle it", to be more precise! i guess it's time to improv a bit...

so: let's set up the stage. this is a world where monsters have always existed alongside humans. old folktales about faeries stealing your children, dragons guarding treasures or humans that transform into unspeakable things are true, or at least somewhat based on true events, although distorted through the lenses of humans' fear to the unknown and mostly vilifying monsters and painting them as dangerous bloodthirsty creatures that are out there to get you. how would a Halloween holiday be created within this context?

let's look at the irl origins of Halloween, based on its article on Wikipedia. it originated as a christian festivity previous to All Hallow's Day, where people prayed for the souls that hadn't reached Heaven yet to get there. jack-o'-lanterns were supposed to represent the souls of these people, and people (mostly children) would go "souling" door to door, asking for soul cakes in exchange for praying for the families' dead. later on, people would start to disguise themselves so the souls who had some sort of vengeance to fulfill before ascending to heaven wouldn't recognise them. also taken from the Wikipedia article:

Eddie J. Smith, in his book Halloween, Hallowed is Thy Name, offers a religious perspective to the wearing of costumes on All Hallows' Eve, suggesting that by dressing up as creatures "who at one time caused us to fear and tremble", people are able to poke fun at Satan "whose kingdom has been plundered by our Saviour"

christianity aside, Halloween also has roots on Samhain, a celtic pagan tradition. the 1st of November was considered to be a day where the lines between this world and the otherworld blurred, so people would appease faeries with food and drink offerings so they'd have a good harvest. the souls of dead kin also roamed the lands on this day, and a spot was reserved at people's tables so they could eat with them. in here, humans disguising themselves as fae is more of a playful thing, where people in costumes would also go door-to-door, reciting verses in exchange for food

with all this in mind, let's establish some actual lore for the story. i doubt christianity regarded actual existing monsters as something good, so in places where christianity is the main religion, i see Halloween developing into mockery of monsters. "ohhh so scaryyy 🙄" kinda deal. not very respectful overall. i imagine there'd be a fraction of christians who would fear participating in Halloween because what if i'm here laughing at these things and a REAL monster appears and tears me appart "O_O, or some others that would abandon the monster-related part of it and only focus on the "helping souls reach heaven" part of it. overall a negative/mocking view of monsters

nowadays, Halloween is regarded as a fun festivity where you dress up to be "scary", ask for candy and go to costume parties. i'd say the modern view on Halloween falls more into the playful category rather than anything that's deeply rooted in religion or folklore. a more relaxed festivity, where people simply want to have fun

so. how does alllll this this affect actual monsters? since the roots of this festivity are derogatory towards them, i think it's fair to guess that they wouldn't have a high opinion on it, at least during the times where the main reason to celebrate Halloween were christianity-related. but time passes, and the meaning of things gets warped. some young monsters might enjoy participating in the fun parts of modern Halloween, but i feel like this would be a controversial thing to do in monster society. a "don't you know the REAL history behind all this fun and games?" kinda thing. like a generational discrepancy between boomers and millenials

now, to answer your ACTUAL question (sorry for the impromptu infodumping 😭😭😭), let's go over my characters' personal opinions on Halloween!

Raz: as a monster rights activist, he's very well aware of the roots of the festivity and thinks it's insensitive and mocking. humans disguising themselves as monsters and getting a laugh out of it while monsters keep being persecuted just puts salt on the wound to him. it's on bad taste. not even Eva is able to convince him otherwise, even before he started leading the monster rights movement himself. so no, he wouldn't dress up as anything for it, or celebrate it whatsoever

Donovan: he doesn't really care about the Halloween lore and all the history behind it. he just simply hates how all the costumes are so fucking ugly. and NONE of them even are historically accurate!! i go more in detail about his opinion on the matter in this post

Lee: as a scavenger generalist animonster, Halloween = free food laying everywhere as far as it concerns him! he'd definetely scavenge candy from bowls or steal sweets from unsuspecting bystanders. some brave kids might even offer food to him the same way someone would offer food to a feral/stray cat, so there's the potential to have wholesome animonster-human interactions :]

reminder that Spooky Askbox is open as a Storyteller Saturday side-event!

[moonlight-prose]

OCTOBER FICS✨

note: this is merely a list to keep myself on track, but to also let y'all know what's to come in the next month! i may not finish all of them (except kinktober), but that doesn't mean they'll be abandoned. it'll just extend into november. also i didn't list one shots cause those are gonna be random. most of them are already on my haunted hoedown masterlist. other than that i hope y'all enjoy!

i have a library blog @moonlights-library which is used as my taglist!

all works below are going to be 18+ ONLY! which means minors you can turn right around.

divider by the lovely @saradika

SERIES:

Inceptus - Demon!Joel Miller x F!Witchy!Reader

summary: on the eve of a solar eclipse, ten days away from samhain, you somehow summon something far more sinister than you expected - him. joel comes to the surface expecting to kill who dragged him up from hell, but finds you instead. what follows is the tale of what happens when you fall in love with one of hell's creations.

Ain't No Grave - Cowboy!Din Djarin x F!Reader | co-conspirator: @themarcusmoreno

summary: in the dark of night when the moon is high and the veil between worlds is thin, spirits walk again. so when a man who claims that the dead are simply the same as the living, becomes a protector of the town's cemetery, people begin to speculate. that perhaps he made a deal with the devil to live again. or maybe...he wasn't alive to begin with.

First Light - Tommy Miller x F!Reader | co-conspirator: @bvckysmoon

summary: tommy miller never thought he would end up alone. not when he had family behind him - a life that wasn't perfect, but good enough. yet there he was, kneeling on the cold forest floor - bloodied and bruised - asking to die. until light streams through the trees, and he sees you.

For the Love of Danger - Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

summary: you loved him once…before the accident. what comes next strays far enough from canon to catch his attention again.

CONT' WIPS

➙ Haunted Hoedown collection

➙ Hurt - Joel Miller x F!Reader

➙ Never Break the Chain - Jurassic Park!Din Djarin

➙ Love is Strange - Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

[themagnusbane]

Murder at the New York Institute

Title: Murder at the New York Institute

Artist: @la-muerta

Rating: Mature (This is the chapter with the sex. Here's your heads-up!)

Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Jace Herondale/Simon Lewis

Word Count: ~27k

Summary: Pull out the Cluedo board they said. It would be fun to play they said. Nothing could possibly happen on Samhain they said. And now, Magnus and Alec, Clary and Izzy, Simon and Jace have been pulled into an alternate New York Institute, with no powers, no idea what has caused it, or who has brought them there. Oh. And there’s been a murder. Except, can you kill a dead man twice? And can Valentine Morgenstern just SHUT THE FUCK UP!

This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Reverse Bang 2024: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter Seven: Malec|Jimon|Clizzy

Heads up. There's fade to black sex in this chapter. Will indicate exactly where, when we get closer to it.

There was a long pregnant pause. Magnus could feel the shock of the room. The brief stunned moment, before everything seemed to click into place for them. The clothes that had been chosen specifically to be ones desired by their partners. The power it would take to move them all to this pocket dimension. The arrogance to not attempt to populate the world to make it more believable, but instead, to have it empty, showing them off like a fish in a glass bowl. The temperamental nature of the system voice. The entertainment nature of the entire situation.

“Fuck! The Seelie Queen?”

Magnus nodded. Reaching out to pat the stunned Simon on the shoulder. “Spirits aren’t the only ones that love to play tricks on people on Samhain. The veil being extra thin also means that those who exist in liminal spaces, get to play as well.”

“Like the Seelie Realm?��� Clary asked. 

“Like the Seelie Realm,” Magnus agreed. “Those who exist in liminal spaces also have their powers heightened. Which means that if you’d thought that she was powerful on a regular day. She’s even more powerful on the most powerful night for witches, warlocks, and those who use magic.”

A clear clapping sound reverberated in the room, and then everything shimmered. 

Magnus blinked and all six of them were standing in front of the Seelie Queen, her fiery red hair spread behind her. The markings of flowers and vines across her cheek, spreading.

She looked stronger. Felt stronger. 

He was sure everyone else standing with him had figured out exactly what he meant by she was practically unbeatable this particular night. He could feel the power, roiling off her in waves. 

Every prank. Every joke. Every bit of mischief and cunning, performed that night, filled her with power beyond their collective imaginings. 

Magnus though, kept his gaze straight and level on her. 

He might not be on talking terms with his father, but there was absolutely no way Asmodeus’s son was going to cower in the face of the Fae. 

The fae can be capricious. Occasionally kind, and the next minute cruel. 

Devils however, had mastered and turned cruelty into an art form. 

He could admire her work, as one did a master who pulled off a surprising new technique. But making her think she wielded any power over him, would not only make her attempt something worse, but would also bring Asmodeus down on his head.Magnus personally, would rather deal with the Seelie Queen, than have to deal with his father in any capacity. 

“What gave me away?”

Her voice was beauty and terror, wrapped in coiled spikes of carefully set traps, waiting to be set off. 

Magnus grinned and crossed his arms. “Alexander in a priest garb.”

“Ah.” The Seelie Queen showed her teeth. “Too much?”

“For a chance to see my boyfriend show up as the very personification of my sexual desires?” Magnus tsked and shared a secret smile with her, “It’s never too much.”

The Seelie Queen laughed. 

Magnus waited until she was done, before he continued speaking. “But I did find it suspicious that everyone was suddenly dressed in outfits that their partners found attractive.” He bestowed her with a smile and a gracious bow of his head. “Who else would know how to see into our hearts, to what we truly desire and make it a reality.” He raised his head and winked at her. “It really is masterful work”

Her laugh danced on the wings of the moths that swirled around them. It had lost a bit of the jagged edge of the traps she’d set for them when they’d initially arrived.

“What else gave me away?”

“Who else in this corner of the world would be powerful enough to unravel my wards and pull me from my home.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Magnus continued. “Of course, when I asked you if we were still on the same plane, and you responded with a yes, I figured it out.” He inclined his head at her. “You didn’t actually move us. Our bodies are still in my apartment. You merely grabbed our psychic energies and placed it in the supplanted Institute you layered over my apartment. It’s why Clary, Isabelle, Jace and Alexander didn’t have any runes they could activate. Why I didn’t have my powers and why Simon didn’t have super speed, or strength. Just his lengthened canines.”

The Seelie Queen pushed herself slightly forward, cupping her chin with her left hand as she smiled down at Magnus from her throne. “You were always too smart for your own good Magnus Bane.”

Magnus inclined his head in a bow. “A gracious compliment, but one I accept wholeheartedly.”

She laughed. A merry sound. “And with not a single humble bone in your body.”

“Would you like me so much if I gave you false modesty?”

Her mouth made a little move, and then she shook her head. “Of course not. You’re far more entertaining when you’re your radiant, brilliant self, Magnus Bane.”

“Your majesty is too kind.”

She made a gesture, indicating that they should leave, and Magnus was just about to do just that, but stopped at the sight of Jace, taking a moment to bow at the Seelie Queen, before lifting his eyes to meet hers, and asking. “Why Valentine?”

The Seelie Queen looked back at him. “Why do you think?”

“I would never presume to know how your mind works, Your Majesty.”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence from the rest of the Seelies. But then their Queen burst into uproarious laughter, and the tension eased out of them. “Ah. You flatter me, Jace Herondale.”

Jace inclined his head. “I aim to serve your Majesty.”

The Seelie Queen nodded. Then her smile turned sharp. “I brought him into the game to see if either you or Clarissa,” her eyes swung over to Clary. “had anything left to learn from him. To resolve with him.”

“I have found my healing outside of him.” Jace stated. Clearly. Calmly.

The Seelie Queen watched him. Eyes focused and abrasive. Magnus felt Alec’s fingers tense in his hands and he stroked the back of his palm slowly, to calm him down. There wasn’t a need to rush into the conversation. 

The Seelie Queen didn’t mean Jace any harm. And it was clear that Jace knew just the level of flattery and needling that was needed when dealing with the fair folk. 

And he applied both in equal measure. 

Magnus was impressed. 

“Indeed you have,” the Seelie Queen said after a long while. “It is clear you don’t need his support or validation anymore. Which is good for you, and a pity for him. After all, what purpose do we serve if we are useless to our children?” She burst out laughing. Sharp, loud and high. Until it slowed to a stop and she wiped her teary eyes, then turned those moss green eyes to Clary. “Clarissa Fairchild on the other hand, needs to continue working on that. If it is not your desire, young Shadowhunter, to remain shackled to your father, it is best that you stop searching for him in every corner. And learn to trust your own decisions. No further approvals are necessary,”

After speaking, her eyes narrowed on the rest of the party, although they softened slightly when they landed on Simon. 

“Well then. Now that you have all returned, should I send you all home?” She wiggled her fingers and three separate glowing portals opened up.

“And our bodies?” Isabelle asked.

“Will be merging with your energies the minute you step through the portals. Of course Magnus needs to give me temporary access into his loft, otherwise your spirits will wander in limbo for eternity whilst your bodies wastes away.” She grinned, all teeth and unholy glee. 

“That would not be necessary, Your Majesty,” Magnus interrupted, smoothly. “We will want to catch up a bit before going our separate ways.”

The Seelie Queen shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Two of the portals vanished, leaving only one. 

They bowed to her in thanks and turned around. Magnus made sure he was in the rear, with Alec right beside him. 

When they got to the portal, Magnus turned back to incline his head at the Seelie Queen and stepped through. He arrived to find that his body had slumped over Alec’s who was sprawled out beneath him. 

He looked down into hazel eyes and grinned. “Hello gorgeous.”

Alec smiled right back, leaning up to give Magnus a quick kiss. “Magnus.”

Magnus pulled back, and looked at everyone else in the room. “How are we all feeling? Good? Did we come back with all our appendages intact? Nothing wrong with our extremities?”

Simon chuckled. “You say the wildest things, Magnus.”

“When you’ve lived as old as I have, you pick up a couple of things kid.”

Simon nodded at him, and looked around the apartment, breathing a relieved sigh, like he had been terrified that it was all a dream and they were still somewhat stuck in the pocket universe. 

“We’re home,” he finally breathed. Then shouted louder. “WE ARE HOMEEEEEEEE!!!!”

“Yes, Shelly. Do yell a bit louder, so my neighbours can show up and accuse me of disturbing the peace.”

“Gods Magnus.” Izzy said. “If not that I’m a lesbian, and I have a totally hot girlfriend. And you have a scrumptious boyfriend who happens to be my big brother, because of course you have great taste, I totally would have kissed you FULL ON THE MOUTH.” 

Magnus took a step back, laughing. “Eh. Let’s not please.”

Izzy snorted. “Just joking.” She entwined her fingers with Clary’s. “Plus, I just want to go home and spend the next week or two in bed, with my girlfriend, and never have to leave.”

Magnus nodded, and caught Simon nodding as well from the corner of his eyes. 

He made a sound of acquiescence, and threw his hands out, feeling the rush, the alrightness of having his powers back, rush through him. Two adjourning portals opened and he jerked his chin at them.

“Your carriage awaits, sirs and madams.”

Jace extended the crook of his elbow to Simon who took it with a giggle and an exaggerated wink that made Magnus laugh. 

Just as they were about to step through the portal, he snapped his fingers. 

Clary, Izzy, Jace and Simon all turned around to look at him in confusion. “A little gift and thank you for today.”

They nodded and stepped through the portal. 

It gave a high hum, and then slowly winked out of existence. 

Magnus turned around and caught the smirk on his boyfriend’s face. “You sent them the outfits didn’t you?”

Magnus grinned. “Why Alexander. Don’t let your siblings say I never did anything for them.” He waggled his fingers and a box came flying to meet Alec, dropping carefully on the couch beside him. 

Alec opened the box and saw the priest’s garb. He laughed. 

“Why am I not surprised?”

“What I’m surprised about is the fact that you’re not already on your way to change into that!” Another flick of his wrist and the door to the bathroom opened. “I already have water running for you. Don’t be long.”

“And what shower would you use?”

“The one in the guest bathroom. I definitely do not trust myself not to touch you if we’re in the shower together.” 

Magnus heard Alec’s low laughter as he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He smiled at the sound and exited the room himself, heading to the guest bathroom. 

With his phone in one hand, he sent out a message to Catarina. 

“Seelie Queen basically fucked with us tonight. Supplanted a pocket universe over my apartment and nabbed us.”

Magnus put down his phone and took a long shower, taking care to wash away the grime, and gunk that had settled in. Sure he might have all been in a dream, but even in the dream, he had been desperate for a shower. And now that he got the time to enjoy it, he was taking all of it.

By the time Magnus stepped out of the bathroom, almost thirty minutes had passed since his message to Catarina. He picked his phone back up to confirm, and sure enough, she texted him not even five minutes prior to him stepping out of the bathroom. 

It seemed like it was a bit of a busy night at the office. Catarina was the type of person who loved to respond immediately.

Damn. She must still be really pissed that you beat her to the punch to nab the children’s shelter. You know magical real estate is really tight in New York City. Plus, she only hears of these things on the rare occasions when she leaves the faerie realm. You’re here so you catch all the deets first. 

Magnus read Catarina’s message again, and released a slow breath. Ah. So tonight wasn’t just her playing pranks, but also her expressing her displeasure about not getting what she wanted. Magnus shook his head. A truly capricious woman. 

But with that settled, he didn’t need to pay the Seelie Queen any mind for the next couple of days. All he needed to think about was his boyfriend. 

Magnus stepped away from the guest bedroom, and walked into the master bedroom, calling out to Alec as he stepped through. “Alexander, you would not believe what Catarina said—“

His words trailed off as he took in Alec, who was backing him as he entered the room, but turned around when he heard Magnus’s voice.

The priest gab Magnus had gotten him, fit even better than what the Seelie Queen had initially put him in. 

This one caressed every inch of skin, molding itself to fit Alec like he was MADE to wear it.

It showed off his boyfriend’s long legs. the slim waist. The tight ass. The broad chest. And that neck that Magnus felt a gnawing session to sink his teeth into and leave bruised hickeys all over that sun kissed skin. 

“Looking good Alexander.”

Alec was beside him in two strides. 

One hand wrapped around his waist. 

The other tilted his head back as he ravaged his mouth. 

They exchanged moans, breaths, pants and spit. 

Alec walked him backwards. Step by step, until Magnus’ legs hit the edge of the bed and he tumbled backwards, pulling Alec along with him. He released a soft, delighted “oof” at the impact, and moaned at Alec pulling away. 

Only to stretch out properly on the bed, when Alec proceeded, to undo the buttons on his pants, one flick at a time. Hazel eyes focused wholly on Magnus. 

Magnus wet his lips. Watching the slow appearance of Alec’s happy trail with each button undone. Until his boyfriend pushed the pants off, and did a little wriggle that sent it flying. 

Next was the cassock. And this time around, Alec started from the bottom, revealing the rest of his happy trail, the toned abs, the fine dusting of hairs, the dusky nipples, and his broad shoulders, slightly scarred from all the Shadowhunting duties, but they were infinitely lovely. 

Magnus reached up and helped Alec push off the cassock, which fell to the floor with a soft whisper. 

He reached for the clergy collar, but Magnus stopped his hand. “Leave it on.”

He sank to his feet before Magnus. Face directly in front of the wet, slightly soaked underwear, that bulged with Alec’s desire. He mouthed it silently. 

Looking up at Alec from his position on the floor, he smiled. Slow and sultry. “Bless me father. For I have been a naughty, naughty naughty boy. Who wants to do such nasty things to you.”

He felt Alec harden against his face, and burst into laughter as his boyfriend pulled him up, and tossed him onto the bed, with a flicker of his fingers, they were both naked, and the lights went off. 

***

Simon ran his tongue slowly overJace’s pectoral. Watching in delight as they jumped at each stroke and movement. 

He felt his boyfriend straining above him, and smiled at the thought that no matter how much Jace pulled, the restraints were going to keep his hands, and feet right where Simon wanted them. Tied to four corners of their bed. Spread eagle because Simon wanted to feast. 

He looked up at Jace. At those eyes, one a pretty blue, and the other a mix of blue and brown. As unique as Jace Christopher Lightwood Herondale was. 

And Simon hummed at how incredibly lucky  he was. 

He put his mouth back in, running the edge of his canines over the taught stretch of Jace’s thighs. 

The way the muscles rippled and moved with every movement. Every ghost of his breath against the skin. Every little nick that his canines sometimes caused, desperate with the desire to sink into Jace’s flesh. But not yet. He only fed when Jace gave him explicit permission. 

And they had an agreement. Simon would only drink from the juncture, where Jace’s neck connected with his shoulder, and with Jace’s hands free to push him away if there was a need to. 

Right now however…

Simon ran his tongue. Making a wet trail from the inner sensitive corner of the back of Jace’s knees, all the way to his hip bone. 

He suckled a hickey. Working it hard until it bloomed red 

Simon smiled. 

How lovely.

He followed the trail from Jace’s hip bone, to the dip in his navel, tongue dipping in, laving it up, drinking in Jace’s pants. The slightly upraised hips. Like his boyfriend was desperate for contact. Even though Simon was keeping his hands on Jace’s sides. Making sure not to go any lower. 

He needed him to wait. To want. To beg.

He dragged his tongue slowly, to the nubs of Jace’s nipples, licking the first. Then the second. Alternating so he could give them both equal attention. 

And he would have continued if Jace had not whispered. “Bite me.”

The journey from Jace’s nipples, to the point where neck met shoulder was a short one. But they had a code. The first thing he did was turn around, his ass in Jace’s face as he reached for the belt buckles that had accompanied the uniform Magnus had sent their way, and pulled. setting Jace’s feet free. He was about to turn around when he felt warm air over the curve of his ass. 

Simon felt his dick twitch in his underwear. 

Fuck. 

He turned around. Making quick work of the belt loops over Jace’s hands. Freeing them, only for Jace to flip him under him and kiss him, mouth devouring, nibbling, biting, and he then switched them back around. Presenting his neck to Simon to bite into. 

Simon leaned forward as he felt his canines elongate. His gaze focused on the pulsing vein. As he bit in, depressing his fang, his mouth filled with blood, He felt Jace tighten beneath him, hands molding his ass, ripping off his underwear and holding hot hard flesh. 

Simon’s vision went white.

***

Clary loved a lot of things about her girlfriend. She loved Izzy’s smarts. Her ferocity. Her laugh. She loved the confidence with which she navigated the world. Without giving a single flying fuck what people thought of her and her choices. But, she also realized that something else she really REALLY liked about her girlfriend, were Izzy’s breasts. 

They were full, and perfect, and filled Clary’s hands to the point of overflowing. 

They were also pierced. A bar on the left. A clicker on the right. That meant that she was just doing this… Clary tugged on the space in the clicker with her tongue. 

A slight twitch that made Izzy moan, legs falling open, wrapped around Clary’s lower back as she took her time to show Izzy’s nipples the love and care they deserved, was enough to drive her girlfriend over the edge.

Clary reached over the bed for the ice chips she’d brought from the fridge and popped one in her mouth, then leaned over and let the cold water trickle. 

Each splash, each drop had Izzy’s twitching.

Her half moans, half pants, all cries, music to Clary’s ears. 

She reached for an ice cube, and ran it slowly over Izzy’s areola, watching in fascination as it pebbled and peaked. 

Clary didn’t think she would ever tire of this, of her girlfriend’s responsiveness. The way Izzy buckled and pleaded. 

Her brown eyes hazy and clouded with desire. The way the goosebumps peppered her skin. 

Clary gave her a gentle kiss. Small soothing kisses over every inch of skin she could reach, as her fingers dipped ice, from one nipple to the next.

She could feel the dripping. The damp. Izzy and her had been at this since they left Magnus’ apartment about four hours ago. 

She’d lost count of Izzy’s orgasms at this point. But they were not enough. They would never be enough. She needed to see Isabelle Lightwood come undone. She needed to feel the tremble of her thigh. The way she scrambled to spread her legs when she felt Clary’s mouth grace the base of her navel. 

Like they were doing right now. Clary smiled. 

She took in a deep inhale. Smelled the musk. The taste and smell that was all Izzy. She lifted Izzy’s hips slightly, smiled down up at her girlfriend, and settled in to feast. 

Somewhere in the corner of the room, lay a discarded red dress. 

[gywin97]

I’ve been re-reading some of my favourite HP fics as I wait for HL to come out, and I love how you can tell which house the author is in based on how they’re ‘fix-it’ fic goes:

Gryffindor

-          Massive, Avengers-style epic final showdown between Voldie and Harry

-          Golden Trio + Neville

-          “Harry no-” “Harry YES!”

-          Harry Potter / Ron Weasley have absolutely zero impulse control and it’s giving Hermione high blood pressure

-          Weasley Twins! Weasley Twins!

-          The Order is like 60% Weasley it’s basically gingers against fascism

-          Dumbledore is powerful but angry Minera McGonagall is terrifying

-          Sirius Black has more than five minutes of screentime.  

-          Remus Lupin is the one responsible adult in the room

-          “There’s no need to call me Sir, professor.”

-          Slytherins are all baddies, no redemption arc for you

-          Umbridge get’s GOT

-          *Draco makes a Weasel joke at Ron* Hermione: “You were literally a ferret.”

Ravenclaw

-          Harry visits the library and learns more spells than goddamn ‘expelliarmus’

-          Sassy!Harry, Smart!Harry,

-          The fuck kinda school is this??!?!

o   *See’s moving staircases* Really, right in front of my OSHA regulations?

o   So they’re really just letting anyone teach DADA, huh?

o   Susan Bones / Kingsley Shacklebolt shows up and lays down the law

-          Callouts for every plothole, and I mean EVERY plothole.

-          Someone notices the SOUL FRAGMENT living in Harry’s forehead

o   “Harry Potter must die” “Ok but have you tried literally anything else???”

-          Using magical gadgets (Time Turners, Sneakoscope, etc) and the Room of Requirement

-          Actual pagan rituals sprinkled in for flavor (Samhain, Yule, etc)

-          Witch  Wizard Wixen

Hufflepuff

-          Everyone lives / nobody dies, Happy Endings, Found Family

-          Characters actually sit down and deal with their TRUMA

-          “My cupboard-” “Your what?”

-          Harry is a sweetheart, polite to everyone

o   This includes Filch / House Elves / Goblins

o   no one can say no to his big green puppy eyes, sorry that’s illegal.

o   Snape/Minerva see’s Lily’s eyes and have emotions

-          Someone (Often Pomfrey) notices Harry’s abuse and takes action.

o   *Smacking Dumbledunce with a rolled-up newspaper* What! Were! You! Thinking!?

o   Harry gets adopted, and his new guardians are outside the Dursley’s house holding baseball bats.

-          You get a redemption arc, you get a redemption arc, EVERYBODY GETS REDEMPTION ARCS!!

Slytherin

-          Harry is a Slytherin / befriends Slytherins.

o   “Slytherin will never accept Harry Potter!” *Ten minutes later* “We’ve only had Harry Potter for a day and a half but if anything happened to him we’d kill everyone in this room and then the Dark Lord.”

o   Slytherin kids get personalities besides ‘mean’ and ‘henchmen’

o   Blasie Zabini is always a slut. I don’t know why this is universal, but it just is.

o   Theo Nott is always the nerd.

-          “So are we just gonna just not talk about the Chamber of Secrets or…?”

-          Fuck this, Fuck the Ministry, Fuck the Wizengamot, here’s 60 reasons why

-          BAMF Narcissa Malfoy

-          Harry gets a pet snake and regularly speaks Parseltongue

-          Severitus or Mentor!Snape:

o   Severus Snape hates James Potter but he hates child abuse more

o   “So I live with my aunt Petunia-” “Tunie?!?!”

o   The Eyebrow of Doom

o   Harry learning more about his mum than her eye color

-          Severus Snape ends up with a small pack of children following him around and he’s not sure how that happened but Merlin help anyone who fucks with them

-          Dumbledore call-out

-          It’s not dark or light magic, it’s just magic

[12timetraveler]

All Hallows Eve

I can't find the damn post from last year so guess I'm making a new post

Some of the VDL boys react to having a witchy SO who is celebrating samhain (sah-win) or All Hallows Eve.

Notes:

The October full moon for 1898 was on the 29th, just before All Hallows Eve. So that year would have been a little extra crazy. So this takes place before Blackwater.

Note: I'm a firm believer that one's craft is very individual and no one is going to practice the same, so I tried to keep things general but there's no way I could cover the many ways people practice Samhain/All Hallows Eve.

Arthur

Arthur has seen enough crazy supernatural shit in this world that he doesn't even question anything about your craft. He's even taken you out a few times to try and help him understand the ghost in the swamp.

So when you tell him All Hallows Eve is a night where the veil is paper thin, and all sorts of things can happen, he takes it seriously.

The weeks leading up to it, send him out to gather any herbs or ingredients you need for your spells or ceremonies. he'll come back with saddlebags full-to-bursting.

He approaches you a week before and asks if you can lay some protections around the camp. He's seen too much shit and he doesn't want anything happening to his family. You assured him the odds are slim-to-none, but he still asks you to, just to be safe.

The afternoon of All Hallows Eve you and he ride out to a space far away from camp where you can do what you do that night. If you don't mind him watching, Arthur will sit nearby and respectfully watch. If you prefer to practice in private, he'll step away but stay nearby to keep you safe.

He refuses to participate in any sort of contact with the other side however. He may not be smart, but he knows not to mess with that shit and he's afraid he'll mess it up, even with your guidance.

If you're the type who needs rest afterwards, he'll take you to the nearest hotel and bundle you under the blankets and hold you close, protecting you from the worldly dangers after you've spent the evening dealing with the otherworldly.

If you're feeling like you just chugged an entire pot of coffee, he'll happily follow you across forest and meadow, staying with you and doing anything you ask (and I mean anything ;) sometimes after a spellwork you just gotta screw like rabbits)

John

John's a little quiet at first when you explain the upcoming day. He's always known you walked the path of the ancient ones, but it never really hit him that you were an actual witch.

After he gets over the initial pause, he asks if there's anything he can do to help with your preparations.

Be specific when you ask him to get you things. Mention you need crystals and he's probably gonna bring you back a shiny river rock.

He's got a lot of heart, just not a lot of knowledge on plants or stones. He'll happily get you other things that you may need. (Rabbit bones and the like)

He gathers a whole crate of empty beer bottles for you to fill with moon water. He takes you down to the river where you cleanse your jars and then fill them.

With Abigail's permission you painted Jack's face to keep him safe from evil. Jack thinks it's great.

That night John will happily take you wherever you need to go to do your practice. He'll keep guard, but he feels a little weird watching so unless you have something you specifically need him for, he probably won't watch.

If you're tired afterwards, he'll make a nice little fire and keep you warm.

If you're feeling your oats afterwards, he'll happily go do something. Rob a shop, get a drink in the saloon, whatever you're feeling.

Charles

Charles is immediately focused when you begin explaining the importance of the upcoming day. Having lost most of his culture, he knows how important it is to hold onto one's roots, so he'll do anything he can to help.

Tell him what herbs you need and he'll bring back huge bundles full.

Ask for a pelt to use for casting or an alter cloth, and he'll find you the best pelt he can, of whatever creature you need (rabbit, deer, racoon, fox, anything). The meat can go for your stew that evening.

Lament that you need your crystals and he'll take you out riding to local quarries, river banks, anywhere that you might find some.

Mention that you need something to carve, and he'll come back with saddlebags full of wild pumpkins and squash to carve.

He's super supportive. Anything you need from him, he's there.

He keeps track of the moon for you and helps you set up your jars to make moon water for your work.

The two of you leave camp early in the morning to find a good place for you to do your craft that night.

He's very respectful the whole time. Asks a lot if he can stay or if you need him to take a walk.

If you let him watch, he's mesmerized by your practice. It's so beautiful to watch. Whether your dancing naked among the trees or kneeling over a ouiji board, whatever your practices are, he thinks they're beautiful.

He does ask that you don't try to contact his mother on the other side, and you promise not to. He's not sure why, he just doesn't feel like she'd want to be disturbed. He also believes that she and his other ancestors watch over him so it's not really needed.

If you need rest afterwards, he'll bundle you up in a big warm pelt and curl up by the fire with you, holding you close as you drift off to sleep.

If you're wired after you're done, he'll do whatever you want to do. Though he does try to help you settle eventually so the two of you can get some sleep that night.

Hosea

Hosea certainly doesn't believe in magic. But he had a healthy respect for others beliefs and cultures.

So as Samhain approaches, he begins doing as much research as he can. He asks a thousand questions. What can he do to help? What herbs do you need for your spells?

You ask if you can put up some protections around camp, and he says of course.

Swanson may try and take them down, but Hosea swats him away, lecturing about how disrespectful it is.

"How would you feel if she went around pulling down your crosses?! They serve the same purpose, to protect."

Hosea surprises you with a box full of small, different colored candles which he bought from a traveling witch. And yes he actually bought them. You'd warned him about stealing from witches.

The night of Samhain, he takes you out to a secluded spot to practice your craft. He is fascinated, whether or not he believes in it.

If Bessie is waiting to pass on a message, he'll love to hear it. But he asks you not to call for her specifically.

"Let her get her rest. I'll see her again one day."

If you're the type to get tired after practicing your craft, especially on a day like this with so many spirits around, Hosea will make camp and wrap you in blankets before pulling you close and telling you scary stories.

If you're the type who will frolic in the forest all night, energized by all the power around you, he'll gladly follow, though he may doze off from time to time.

Dutch

Dutch is a skeptic for sure. He's a little patronizing about your practice at times. However when he sees how important this is to you, he's all business.

When you explain some of the more celebratory traditions of Samhain, he's more interested. The gang could always use something to keep spirits up.

He gets everyone involved. You all carve pumpkins to ward of spirits. The women make Jack a mask to wear on the day to hide him from evil.

Dutch sends Arthur to town to get some candy and you set up a little trick-or-treating route in camp for Jack to go tent to tent and get candy.

Dutch encourages you to do your practice in camp for everyone to see. If you're comfortable with this he'll be very excited.

If you're not comfortable with that, explain that it's very personal and he'll let it go, very understanding that some things aren't a spectacle.

That night, after Jack finishes trick-or-treating, the gang throws a party.

If you elect to slip out of camp to practice, Dutch will happily go with you to protect you, even if that's just standing with his back to you.

Yeah Dutch is a skeptic. Contact his mother on All Hallows Eve though and his tune will change.

If you're tired, he'll bring you back to camp and tuck you into bed before doing his rounds at the party.

If you're wide awake, he's happy to dance with you until the wee hours of the morning.

Javier

Javier was raised a good Catholic boy so he balks a little at first when you tell him you're a witch. But he knows you. You're not of the devil. So he agrees to help, though he's a little nervous about it.

Slowly he starts to notice similarities between Samhain and Día de Los Muertos.

The veil is thin and those from the other side can cross over. It's the same basic idea.

He helps you gather what you need for your practice, and you help him set up an ofrenda for his mother and father.

You manage to find some marigolds for him. And he finds you the herbs you need for your work.

The two of you opt to stay relatively close to camp, finding a nice spot in the trees just outside of camp. You spend the evening together, practicing your craft and celebrating his family.

Certainly Samhain and Día de Los Muertos aren't the same. Not at all. But the two of you find a certain harmony with the two, and enjoy celebrating in each other's company.

Sean

Sean gets really excited when you mention Samhain.

He may have been raised Christian, but his family was that wonderful Irish mix of Christian and traditional. He knows not to scoff at something like this.

If you celebrate Devil's Night, he's more than happy to go out and cause mischief and mayhem with you.

He "helps" you make soul bread. And by help, I mean he watches you, stealing bits of dough and wiping flour on your nose while talking non-stop.

The two of you head into town to buy pumpkins and turnips to carve.

Sean of course tries to stick his head in a hollowed pumpkin and gets it stuck. It takes John, Charles and Arthur 30 minutes to break it off of him.

But as the sun begins to set, Sean settles down some. He helps you set the jack-o'-lanterns up around camp to ward off spirits. Scuffs some dirt on Jack's face to keep him hidden.

When you leave camp with Sean, he's very respectful, keeping quiet for the most part except for the occasional "keep us all safe from the wee folk and anything else that's out tonight."

If you do any work contacting those on the other side, try to find his parents. He'll weep openly if you get a message from them.

If you're tired afterwards he'll snuggle you around the fire and tell you spooky stories until you fall asleep.

If you're wide awake, he'll happily get up to more mischief with you. Go get drunk or rob a house or anything really.

Bill

Bill tries. He really does.

But he's barely wrapped his head around "normal" traditions.

Witchcraft is above and beyond him.

Ask for crystals and he'll bring you a stolen diamond necklace.

"Diamonds is crystals ain't they?"

Yeah you'd better just go out and gather everything you need yourself.

He is remarkably good at wrapping herb bundles though. After you dry your herbs, you have him tie off your bundles.

When you invite him to come with you to keep you safe during your practice, he blushes 50 shades of red.

"Don't you... Ain't you gonna be... nekked?!"

Yeah Bill believes the stereotype that witchcraft is dancing naked in the woods.

If that is part of your practice, remind him that he's seen you naked plenty of times in bed.

If that isn't part of your practice, just explain and he'll calm down.

He's a bit jumpy when you go out that night. If you only do some spellwork, he'll settle.

If you start contacting the dead, he'll piss himself. He is very afraid of ghosts.

If you're tired, he'll carry you back to his horse and let you sleep on the ride back to camp before carrying you to bed.

If you're wide awake and horny after your practice, he'll chuckle and pull you close.

"Now I see what you dragged me along."

Micah

Micah thinks it's totally sexy that you're a witch.

He sees it as another form of rebelling from the norm.

He's probably not going to go pick your herbs for you.

But he'll ride out with you to gather anything you need.

I'll be honest, Micah thinks it's some sort of sex thing.

The image of witches dancing around in the woods at night while naked is definitely stuck in his mind.

Explain and he'll get it. Sort of.

Okay he'll probably never understand but if he likes you enough for you to be his S/O, he'll play along.

He might whine about it though.

He'll gladly go with you that night to keep you safe.

He's still half-expecting some sort of orgy.

But he'll keep guard and let you do your craft.

If you're tired afterwards he'll gladly snuggle with you by the fire.

If you're wide awake he'll gladly get up to some mischief with you.