so after the events of the lawless, bo never says satine’s name again. she will speak of her, though not often & typically only to those who bring satine up first or who personally knew her. but in all cases, bo refers to satine as either “the duchess” or “my sister.”
it’s sort of how she doesn’t accept the darksaber at first in rebels: she no longer feels she’s worthy to speak satine’s name. it feels almost blasphemous for her, like she’s dirtying satine’s pure, crystalline legacy.
i'm downloading scp-containment breach so i can play tonight because i'm already scared to look down the dark hall leading away from the living room why not completely terrify myself
Oh okay so there was this one time where me and my friend Scott wanted to go to Target..,so on our way walking he had to tie his shoe and I’m just standing next to him until I see a fucking clown walk towards us..,and I mean that this clown was dressed in white and black only with yellow shoes or some shit like that it was fucking creepy..,I was scared shitless. Like I honestly thought this was the end. So I nudged Scott and he looks up and (mind you he’s tall af and I’m smol af) he uses me as a shield.,and the clown goes “you like that don’t you?” And we were both so fucking confused then Scott pushes me and I knew he was just trying to boost me to get a head start and we fucking ran away all the way to Target
To the Reader who sent me 4 messages tonight about "Without Looking Back"
Thank you. Thank you so much. I cried. I would like to put your messages into one post and respond to them tomorrow. You signed with a username, but I will keep it anonymous. You are brave and beautiful. <3 <3
Title: Without Looking Back
Disclaimer: Me no own, You no sue.
Warning: Devilcest, language
Notes: 2nd POV - Dante
-z-
He was the brother who came and went as he pleased. He was the lover fucked only on occasion. He was there when you wanted him least, gone when you needed him most. He smiles and coos in your face, snarls and bares his teeth till your current lover is whining and slinking away, tail between his legs.
"You thought you could live without me?" he asks.
"I know I can live without you," you're lying and he knows it.
"Why would you dare think a thing like that?" he has you against the bar and the other patrons try so hard not to stare.
"Because you weren't around to prove otherwise," you level your gaze and try to remind him what it's like to be loved and loathed all at the same time.
"Well, I'm here now," one hand is on your waist and the other is tracing the muscle of your jaw, a thumbnail scraping your bottom lip.
"And how long will you be gracing me with your presence this time?" you lift a hand to his chest, drawing light circles and looking up at him from under your eyelashes in a way you know to be damned sexy.
"Who knows?" he leans in to kiss you and never expects the violent shove.
You say nothing at first as you saunter over to him, your fiery eyes the only thing betraying an otherwise calm exterior. "Get the fuck out of my town," you growl, lacing your voice with all the hatred and malice you can muster.
"Finally grow a pair?" he's watching you like a hawk does his next meal.
Then you're in his face, "Don't come around here unless you plan on staying," there's pleading in your tone and in your eyes and something flitters across his face that you don't recognize. "I always knew that you were a cruel man, Vergil, but you're fuckin' killin' me."
You don't give him a chance to answer as you brush past him and out of the bar without looking back.
You know that he'll show up at your apartment later tonight, it's all just a matter of time. The chances of him leaving the bar right after you: zero to none. He'll stay and drink until he feels enough time has passed and he can come after you without it looking that way to everyone else.
And just when you think he might not show there's the tell-tale knock. A whiff before you open the door tells you he's drunk and horny and now the scripted tragedy of your life can begin again.
The door opens and Vergil is leaning against the wall opposite your threshold.
"So glad you could make it," you mutter, hating how beautiful he looks even though he really shouldn't. He swoons a little as he kicks himself off the wall and stumbles into your apartment. You shut the door behind him and, when you turn around, Vergil is right there.
"Hello, baby brother," he seems to sober a little as he pins you against the door, his body flush against yours. "So glad you could have me."
"Who am I to throw out my only brother?" your voice is low and there's no feeling in it.
"As it is, I figure that we're both complete narcissists," his hands slowly travel to your biceps, squeezing and smirking in appreciation.
"How do you figure?"
"We both love fucking each other, fucking our twin, fucking our exact image."
"Since when did you ever use 'fuck' more than once in a sentence?" you're slightly worried because even though Vergil's drunk, he's acting like you and that itself is a scary thought.
Vergil sneers, tightens his grip on your shoulders, and rips you away from the door before slamming you right back into it.
"Since when did you ask so many damned questions?" he snarls.
Your answer is calm, "Since this is the longest conversation we've ever had during one of your little visits." You don't get mad, despite every screaming part of you; you know that that's not how this particular situation is to be handled. "You usually tear my clothes off as soon as you walk through that door and fuck me into the carpet."
Vergil's eyes clear, and, just for a moment, you think that he's going to kiss you. But it never comes. Instead, he slowly releases you, as if he's afraid of something, and walks backward 'til he hits a wall.
"I usually do do that, don't I?" his tone is low and almost remorseful, almost. "I–"
"I want you to either fuck me or leave," you interrupt him. "There is no in between for us anymore. You can't have everything, Vergil. Can't you hear? You're killing me. Just make up you're fuckin' mind!" You sound like a little bitch and that alone makes you want to commit suicide, however there are some things that just have to be said.
Vergil takes his revenge on you that night.
He didn't fuck you.
Oh, the two of you had sex, but it wasn't fucking. If you didn't know better, you'd say that Vergil had made love to you, making sure that you came again and again. His touches had been soft and sweet, the pace slow and steady and so gentle.
He left some time while you slept, left you to cry alone when you woke. You had built him up to be the monster, to be the one to be hated.
Long ago, you forgot about the Vergil that had held you gently at night when the demons visited and the nightmares hurt. You had to let him fuck you whenever he came around because it was the only way to maintain the image you hated; the pain had to remind you that he was never going to stay and that things would never return to how they had been. Vergil only came around because he was in the neighborhood, not because he missed you. Vergil missed no one.
There wouldn't be any changing of any of this. But then, then last night he touched you softly and you were forced to remember the good of days long passed.
Your chest begins to hurt and your throat feels like it'll close up on you forever. You take a shower and try to forget everything. Dressing for the day, Enzo is sure to something for you.
Then you open the door and want to die right there, just fuckin' collapse on the threshold.
He's here. Your brother is still here. Sitting in the hallway, back against the wall.
"I've been staring at your door trying to figure out–"
"–how to make my life even more miserable?" you interrupt him as you throw your jacket on and close and lock the door. You're half-way down the hall when his next sentence stops you mid-stride.
"–how I could ever make it up to you."
You turn around sharply and glare down at him. Anger: pure, unadulterated fury escapes as you land hit after hit on your older brother's face. Vergil never lifting a finger to either stop you or protect himself. You're shouting and calling him terrible names and you almost hate yourself, but it doesn't quite work because all you can see is red.
Then, just as quickly as it made itself known, that anger was gone and then you're crying and clinging to him as if your life depended on it. He holds your face in both hands; brings you forward so that your foreheads touch. He's kissing you and you tug at his jacket and then you're back inside your apartment and you're screwing the day away.
You've always been the kind to forgive and forget. Perhaps too easily, too quickly. Fuck it, your brother's back and you decide to just go along with it.
He was the brother who came and went as he pleased. He was the lover fucked every night, all night. He was there when you needed him most, and gone when you wanted him least. He smiles and coos in your face, snarls and bares his teeth till the challenger for your body is whining and slinking away, tail between his legs.
"Thought that you could live without me?" he asks.
"Only for a little while," you smile and thread your fingers through his hair.
