[closed] jukebox hero

[subhuman]

Who: Dante & Others
When: February
Where: Horizon & Nocwich
What: Closed prompts and headaches (caused by Dante)
Warnings: Will add as needed!

Comments

[righteously]

( And lo, Dean did behold the most anime shit he's ever seen in his life — which is no small feat, considering the amount of Hentai he watches. This dude deadass splits his god damn motorcycle apart and he's dual wielding buzz saws.

He is, thusly, in fucking awe.

He glances from the buzz saws to his dinky little machete, then mumbles unhappily under his breath: )

Mustn't be afraid to dream a little bit bigger, darling.

( Except it's faintly mocking — self-directed. He can't believe he's been running his ass around in Purgatory off and on for over a year, and it has yet to occur to him to break out a god damn grenade launcher or something instead of a stupid machete. He could've been making motorcycle knives this whole time.

Whatever.

He scowls petulantly, then turns his attention back to Dante, doing his best to swallow the expression with... middling success. )

Look, this isn't- this is, like, the back yard part, okay? I have a bar. This- this was here when I got here. Shut up, don't judge me.

i laughed so hard i'm so sorry dean

[subhuman]

[ Not everyone can make incidental packs with demons who turn themselves conveniently into (albeit sometimes talkative) weapons. Although the fourth-wall would certainly think that sort of thing would be possible where Dean is from.

Dante doesn't know any of that, though. What he does know is that this is, yes, a very unfortunate back yard and not a place he would like to hang out in even if he can deal with it. So when the other man mentions a bar, he lights up. ]

Ah, a bar! Now that sounds like a good idea.

[ He flips the buzzsaws around and lets them reform his motorcycle proper. ]

Tell you what, drinks are on me for making a mess of your front lawn.

[ It's different from a back yard because it's the front. ]

cackling

[righteously]

( Dean pulls a face, flat and unimpressed, at the offer to buy him a drink in 1 - a place where currency doesn't actually exist and 2 - a bar he owns. He doesn't bother pointing either thing out, just mutters a faintly piqued, )

Yeah, sounds great, thanks.

( Right on time for another leviathan to vault out of the trees at him in an attempt to tackle him to the ground. Before it makes impact, Dean's hand shoots out and he Signs, blasting the thing backward so hard it cracks into the trunk of a tree and sends splinters raining down on its unmoving form.

It'll get up eventually, it takes a hell of a lot more than that to bring down a Leviathan for long, but he's not interested in sticking around to finish the job. )

Come on.

( He knows the way — and steers them back toward the road, the trees growing less greyscale in color as they head for the imaginary highway that leads to the Roadhouse. )