#Post Devil May Cry 5

[stickynotelovers-art]

Devil May Cry is growing in strength in my brain and I've been desiring to draw the Sparda boys for a bit anyways.

I see some people have Vergil behave in fanfics and fanart as being extremely serious and cold, but I think people easily forget that he's just as much of a silly goober as his brother. He would definitely be an embarrassing Dad just because he thinks Nero's reactions are funny.

Dante and Vergil would both definitely find these shirts hilarious and wear them on lazy days, especially because Nico gifted it to them.

Besides the fact that Nico would buy the shirts for them simply because she thought it was funny, she'd also do it to mess with Nero.

[vesselsbliss]

Unexpected Gestures

Headcanon: Dante—when he has the funds—will hop pizza parlors. On those rare occasions, he discovers a dish that provides the right type of sensory stimulation. He’ll get a take home order, or two (or ten), of said dish in the largest size available.

Morrison shows up with an influx of jobs. The broker emphasizes the need for a demon hunter, capable of discerning between demonic threats and mere humans in elaborate costumes. Though tempted to refuse, Dante decides to accept the entire list of jobs.

It’s his most productive day this year. Today’s clientele seems more appreciative. In addition to the payouts, the demon slayer receives items usually meant for trick-or-treaters. Bags of candy—including an entire basket of full size candy bars, a Tupperware with pasta, another container with a slice of cake, an entire foil pan with homemade brownies, a dozen sugar cookies, and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Some of the affluent clients provide additional monetary compensation. It’s twilight by the time he gets back. He gets to work stashing the food items. Those close to him were more than welcome to dig in.

Dante summons Cavaliere again. Intending to use the rest of the day for his initial plans. He stops at a small pizza parlor across town; a tan building with a few tables sitting at the front outside. The sign reads “15th Street Pizzeria.” Flickering red and white letters are indicative of the need for repairs. Cavaliere disintegrates. He makes his way to the entrance. Torn black and orange decorations adorn the shattered windows.

“Sparda…” a reverberating growl drips with venom.

With a sigh, he summons the Devil Sword Dante.

“Die blood of Sparda!” It leaps above his head.

He makes short work of his assailant. Blood splatter, fur and viscera litter the surrounding area. The employees and customers are found cornered in the kitchen. Trapped by a muscular bat-like creature, almost as tall as the ceiling. It’s clawed hand reaches for one of the patrons, only for it’s head to be cleaved off.

Dante is lounging in his office chair, feet plopped on the desk, when Morrison pays another visit to Devil May Cry.

“Someone’s been looking for you,” the broker states. “The name “15th Street” ring any bells?”

Assuming it’s another bill for property damage, the question elicits a groan from Dante. Before he can say anything, a middle-aged man wearing black pants and a red t-shirt enters the building. He introduces himself as the owner of 15th Street Pizzeria, rambling about how he spent weeks searching for a tall, white-haired guy with a giant sword.

“You tracked me down because?”

“Well,” the man awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “to say thank you.”

Dante stands up from the couch. This had to be a prank.

The owner voices his appreciation for Dante saving the lives of his employees, the customers, and stopping the demons from destroying his business. He runs outside and returns carrying a couple boxes. After placing them on the desk, the owner mentions that he needs to go back to work. He bids the two men farewell, shaking both of their hands.

Dante carefully opens each box, making note of the toppings in each. Pepperoni. Cheese. Neapolitan. Chicago style deep dish with extra jalapeños, and no olives (courtesy of Morrison). The last one appears looks like a dessert, topped with caramelized pear slices and a white chocolate sauce.

Morrison notices Dante’s focus drift away from the pizza. “What’s the matter? Can’t process a random act of kindness.” He takes a drag of his cigar.

“Nah,” Dante turns to face him. “I just can’t decide where to dig in. That’s all.” He closes the pizza boxes and takes them to the kitchen. All five are placed in the oven at a low temperature, to keep them warm.

“Pizza party tonight then?” Morrison enters the kitchen and notices Dante bringing out paper plates. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Sweet Serenade: Vergil x G/N Reader

MINORS DNI GO AWAY >:[ SERIOUSLY-- *grabs a broom and sweeps at you* SHOO

SUMMARY: Ever since you met the blue devil you’d loved to listen to him; be it a small noise or a loud shout, you always listened. Tonight, you found yourself home alone with him and begin to hear a different noise; one that you realize you aren’t supposed to be hearing.

BEGINNING NOTES: ♭ Top/Dom Vergil x (implied) Bottom/Sub G/N Reader ♮Unestablished relationship. ♯Everyone else can tell you are into each other. The two of you have gone “out” before; even though that’s not what either of you called it, it is what both of you wanted. ♮You live at the DMC with Dante and Vergil. ♭Smut--Vergil masturbation voyeuristic reader ♮Vergil enjoys the idea of the reader consensually submitting to him (I don’t want it to come across wrong) (The song is a link to a YouTube video of it if you want to listen)

==

     The Devil May Cry was alive and bustling as per usual these days. There was never a dull moment not since the twins’ reunion and return from Hell. Although the happier and more welcoming atmosphere was a nice change of pace, you couldn’t help but miss the peaceful quiet times. Tonight was one of those nights. 

     The last contract was large enough that the whole shop got involved which resulted in an enormous payout. So, the crew decided to go out drinking to celebrate--Most of the crew anyway.

      Nero was hesitant to join, not being one for social outings--like father, like son. However, Nico wasn’t taking no for an answer and was currently shoving Nero--quite literally--out the back door. Lady and Trish had already moved to the garage and were chatting. Then, of course, there were the Sparda twins; Vergil and Dante. The younger sibling had been nagging his brother for over ten minutes.

     “Come on,” Dante playfully poked at Vergil’s shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight, staring at him like a kicked puppy dog, “Pleaseeee--”

     “Dante.” Vergil sighed as he stood up, shutting his book with a loud thump, “For the last time, I am not going to your stupid bar and that’s final.”

     The younger twin pouted slightly and let out an exaggerated exhale, “You’re so boring in your old age, Verge; you gotta learn to live a little,” Dante turned his attention to you and flashed a wide toothy grin, “You’re coming with right?”

     You pursed your lips and shook your head ‘No’.

     The red devil dramatically groaned and slumped forwards.

     You gently patted his back, “Sorry, I'm just too beat to join in.”

     Dante looked up at you and stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

     A warm smile tugged at your lips as you ruffled the red devil’s hair, “Maybe next time.”

     “Promise..?” 

     “If that’s what you want, sure.”

     He stood back up fully, a small smile tugging at his lips, “You’d best believe I’m gonna hold you to that, babe~!” He winked at you as he grabbed his coat from the back of the desk chair, sliding it on, “Just don’t go breaking the old man, alright? Kinda need him in the morning for a contract.”

     “Huh-!?” Your eyes widened as you realized what he meant.

     Vergil rolled his eyes and moved to stand beside you, just a few centimeters away from your side, “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, Dante?” He folded his arms and leaned back a bit.

     “And if it is?” Dante raised a brow at his sibling.

     “Tch,” Vergil’s gaze thinned, “As if they would have such low standards.”

     “Careful there Verge might insult yourself since we are twins.”

     “Perhaps, but we--”

     The sound of Nero shouting and a loud thud caught everyone’s attention--it seems Nero finally gave in, or rather gave out, and fell face-first into the concrete of the garage. Nico stared down at the young man from the doorway before turning to the three of you, a semi-irritated tone to her voice, “We’re gonna leave your old asses if y’all don’t get a move on!”

     Dante sighed and walked towards the door, “Sorry, only one ‘old ass’ is leaving tonight.”

     Nico said something unintelligible as Dante shut the door, leaving Vergil and you alone. 

     The blue devil sighed quietly before addressing you, “I am going to retire for the night,” he moved toward the stairs. Once at the bottom of the stairs, he paused for a moment with parted lips, as if he were going to say something; however, he said nothing, shut his mouth, and ascended the stairs, disappearing into his room. 

     You sighed through your nose. Part of you had hoped Vergil might want to spend some time together, but that was wishful thinking. He’s not the “hanging out” type, even if the two of you spend most of your waking hours together. Deciding to do the same as the blue devil, you turned off the shop’s lights and headed to your room. 

     The floorboards creaked as you entered your cozy abode and flipped on the lights. With a slight bounce, you flopped onto your bed with a loud sigh. Your room was the smallest of the three make-shift bedrooms of the Devil May Cry and shared a wall with a certain blue devil’s room. Through the thin walls, you could hear the faint sound of Schubert’s music from Vergil’s record player. Admittedly, you didn’t care much for classical music but that slowly changed when the eldest twin moved in. His music selection was so different than Dante’s; it was calmer, relaxing, and gentle, all of which were something you found reflected the man’s inner-self--even if Vergil doesn’t seem the temperate type. Tonight’s selection was no different. Currently, the record was playing one of your favorites “Serenade”. 

     A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened to the violins' crescendos and decrescendos; how each phrase changed and grew. You allowed yourself to relax into your bedding as you slowly began to drift off. However, just as you closed your eyes, a small stifled grunt came from the other side of the wall and piqued your curiosity. Then, a growl followed by a visceral groan emanated from the other room. Although you knew it was intruding--and downright voyeuristic--you couldn’t help but get up and set your ear against the shared bedroom wall, listening intently.

==

     Vergil had planned on reading and going to bed when he headed upstairs. Wishing to enjoy the few fleeting moments of peace within the walls of the shop. However, Vergil couldn’t get the teasing remark from Dante out of his head--the idea of Vergil making love with you. 

     As he read the same page over and over, Vergil found his thoughts devolving into more and more sinful ideas. He wondered what sounds you'd make when he ate at your body; what lascivious mewls and whimpers would you make? Would you enjoy it? How would you react to him holding you impossibly close as your bodies are neatly and sensually interwoven, connected together in an act of heated passion and lust? The endless amount of devilish sexual amusement he’d get from spearing your innards and watching you come undone under him. Your loud pleading cries from his overstimulating touch as Vergil plays with you long into the night and morning, not wanting to pass up this rare moment of privacy. 

     Admittedly he wasn't sure if you were into him as much as he is to you; however, that didn't stop the growing heat from spreading throughout his body. With an irritated huff, Vergil shut his book and grumbled to himself. He wasn’t typically one for masturbation and had mostly only partaken of such sinful delights in his youth. 

     Perhaps just one time wouldn’t be too bad, right?

     The blue devil carefully set his book down, still debating if he really was going to do this. However, an overwhelming throbbing in his pants answered the question for him. He bit his lip as he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to indulge such degenerative thoughts; thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. 

     He palmed his hard-on through his jeans, imagining it was your hand instead. The slow sound of his belt being unbuckled, the snap of the button of his fly, the smooth sound of the zipper coming undone; all of this he imagined was your doing. Despite his distaste for such joys of the flesh, he did keep a bottle of lube in his bedside drawer just in case he’d ever need it--and tonight was one of those times. 

     Setting the bottle on the tabletop, he closed his eyes and ghosted his fingertips against his aching tent. A shiver ran up his spine as he released his cock from its fabric confines. He opened his eyes for a split second to grab the bottle of lube and put some in his palm before quickly closing his eyes again; not wanting to break his fantasy. 

     It started slow, almost painfully slow, as he bit his lip. He was fantasizing about the wet feeling from the lube being instead caused by your cute little mouth being wrapped around his cock. A small groan left his lips as he continued to fall further and further into this fictitious scenario. What he wouldn’t give just to fuck your mouth at least once. As he continued, his lack of practice became more and more evident as his hand moved in uneven and unsteady strokes. A sudden intense hot feeling spread throughout his body causing him to grow uncomfortable. He knew exactly what it was; he was losing himself, being much too engrossed in his pathetic devilish desires, practically egging on an accidental Trigger. 

     Quickly, he opened his eyes and shot up from the mattress, tossing his vest off to the side. Using one hand to hold himself up from the mattress, he continued to pleasure himself. His brow twitched as he closed his eyes again. In his mind, he toyed with the idea of you being pinned underneath him; completely submissive and powerless. A small growl came from his throat as he began to lose focus on staying quiet. The sight of you breathless and staring back at him with half-lidded eyes made his cock ache and his mind reeling. 

     Again he began to feel the hot feeling consuming his limbs, he needed to let his skin breathe--he needed to undress more. As he fumbled with the shirt buttons, he leaned upwards. Almost instantly getting frustrated with the small plastic clasps, he ripped his shirt from his body--shredding it--and tossed it off in a random direction. Vergil leaned back over the bedding, his hand that was supporting his weight had balled up the sheets; tearing it with his nails. The blue devil bit his lip again as his pace became even faster, however, this did little to deter the loud carnal snarling that he was making.

     Vergil leaned further forwards, placing his forehead on the, now disheveled bedding. In his mind he was laying his head against yours, enjoying the feeling of your hot skin against his. The feeling of your hands within his hair and your legs wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer and further into your hole. A thin layer of sweat adorned his body and his hair had fallen forwards. A mixture of spit and a small amount of blood was dripping from his lips and onto the bed. His breathing was heavy, uneven, and filled with a disgusting amount of lust; a side of himself that Vergil, not only tries to hide from the outside world but, despises. However, he couldn’t be bothered to think about how unrefined and how feral he probably sounded and looked, the only thoughts to be had were ones about you.

     As he approached his orgasm he began to whimper your name quietly to himself, wishing he had the courage to ask you out and to ask for you to give yourself to him--every bit of yourself to him. He began to rock forwards, bucking his hips into his hand. A greedy possessive feeling filled his heart, he wants to hide you away from the world, to keep you all to himself. A snarl left his lips at the thought of anyone else being able to have you, to take you from him. Vergil didn’t care how insane he sounds or how dangerous that kind of mindset is; he’s had everything taken from him his entire life and he will not allow anyone to take you from him. With each passing moment, he got louder and called your name more and more frantically. 

     When Vergil hit his peak, he leaned upwards and threw his head back. A loud thunderous growl and an almost whimpering moan came from him as his body twitched in ecstasy. Lots of smooth white ropes decorated his bedding as he opened his eyes to stare at the dark room’s ceiling above him, he felt several tears running down his face. Using the thumb of the hand still wrapped around his cock, he played with his tip, sending a jolt through his body; despite finding release, he was still just as worked up as before--perhaps even worse than before. 

     That’s when a set of knocks at his door made him freeze. 

     Was Dante back already? Or what if you had--

     “Vergil?” It was you.

     He panicked; despite not being clean, shoved his cock back into his boxers and jeans. Unable to find his shirt from earlier, he grabbed a random t-shirt from his dresser and slid it on so fast he failed to notice that it was backwards. Using the sweat from his brow, he slicked back his hair in hopes it would stay long enough for him to answer the door. 

     When he opened the door his words were discombobulated as he stumbled through his thoughts, “What?” 

     You said nothing but instead shyly looked away from him, your shoulders tensed up and you pursed your lips. That’s when Vergil noticed.

     The strong unmistakable scent of arousal that was coming from you. You were just as, if not more, horny. Admittedly, he wanted nothing more than to pin you to the ground and take you right then and there; but he found himself hesitant. 

     With a very shy voice, you mumbled to him, “You alright? The record has been skipping for a while now and…” Your voice trailed off, unable to look him in the eye. 

     As he spoke a dark husky sultry tone came from him, a voice you’d never heard him use before, “Oh? Has it now?”

     You nodded, “Yeah, I can hear it from my room…”

     He smirked and turned you to face him, “It is quite invasive to be listening to others, Love.” His eyes met yours, “Especially if you were enjoying yourself to it.”

     Your eyes went wide.

     Vergil chuckled lowly, “I can tell from your heart that you either just ran a mile or were having a good time,” he leaned in closer, “and I can smell it on your hands, Voyeur.”

     A set of sputtering unintelligible noises came from you, your face becoming flushed and Vergil enjoying the sight. 

     He stood back up and turned to face inside the room, “Now, why don’t you come in for a moment? I’ll remove the record after all,” He looked over his shoulder, “I’d much rather listen to your serenade instead.”

==

ENDING NOTES: ♯This has been sitting in my WIPs half-finished for a while so I wanted to finish it up; sorry if the ending is a bit weird, wasn't sure how to end it lmao ♮Fun fact: the beginning part (right up until overhearing Vergil) was the original start to “As You Wish (Part 1)” lol ♭“That Unwanted Animal” By The Amazing Devil really was a good inspiration for this fic. I’d highly recommend giving their music a listen “The Horror and The Wild” is a REALLY good album lol

==

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 82: Wounds

Chapter 82: Wounds

Note: Huh… I need better time management lol. Looks like there are some growing pains with this new schedule lol sorry everyone.

(-~-)

“So… do you typically attack anything that moves while in that state, or am I an exception?” Gustave’s tone was calm despite the situation at hand. He seemed unshaken by the circumstances, more pressing issues occupying his thoughts as he attended Sirrus’s injury, much to the wordless protests of his protege.

Sirrus's preference for V to have his injuries attended to first was clear as he grasped Gustave’s sleeve gently, gesturing towards V. But the older man shut down the notion, his assessments of how was closer to death unchanged. Sirrus had been wounded for far longer than Gustave was comfortable with, even if he didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry,” V said softly, his breath shaky as he remained on his side on the floor. He was a tangled mess of limbs and fabric, what remained of the silken robe he wore draped over and around him like the roots of a tree. His hair clung to his face as his breath shuddered, his eyes only half open as he attempted to cope with a mixture of pain, exhaustion, and blood loss. He was drained. And much like his red-haired companion, he didn’t feel his body making any effort to heal.

Gustave remained at Sirrus’s side, stanching the bleeding as he did something that V couldn’t discern. His view from his place on the floor wasn’t especially good, but the fact that his companions had parked themselves against the back wall of the apartment made it slightly easier to see him. If only barely.

V registered a shift in Sirrus’s demeanor as he clenched his teeth and shuddered, clearly the direct result of whatever Gustave had just done to him. His eyes watered as he looked over at the older man weakly, seemingly communicating something to him without speaking. With his back turned to the young summoner, V couldn’t tell what had happened, but he did take note of the way his friend’s chest rose and fell, his eyes closing as he seemed to slump harder against the wall. 

But after a moment he exhaled and reopened his eyes, his gaze slowly falling onto V. His eyes lingered on him, seemingly taking in every detail of his appearance. Assessing his condition to the best of his abilities without moving from his resting position. Silently worrying over him as the weight of everything that had occurred that day seeped into his bones. It was a miracle they’d both made it out of that tower alive, let alone back to the apartment to convalesce. They were fortunate, indeed. But that had been close. Too close.

“Don’t be. If I were anyone else, you’d be dead. Your instincts did not betray you.” Gustave stood and adjusted his shirt, smoothing it despite the fact that it was darkened beyond repair from the crimson blood that sullied it. His words were directed towards V although he did not turn to face him. Instead, his gaze fell towards the back window, out into the distance towards something V could only guess at.

He attempted to sit up, only to think better of it a moment later as he received a disapproving look from Gustave. The older gentleman was wiping his hands on what remained of his shirt, the side holster his revolver resided in visible to him for the first time. Ah, so that’s where that was. No wonder it was rarely in his line of sight.

“It seems my senses are… heightened in that state,” V confessed, breathlessly, his body no less sore than it had been since they’d arrived. Worse, even. It felt like his entire body was covered in large, deep paper cuts that ached worse every single time he took a breath. He shuttered using all of his mental energy to stay as still as possible while focusing on his breathing. Shallow and slow. That was what hurt the least at the moment. “I think I now understand why being around you has such an effect on me.”

V felt a tingle spread across his arms and chest, shivering as he closed his eyes and laid his head on his floor.

“The real question here is,” Griffon manifested, lighting on the back of the couch as he looked tentatively at V and shook his head. He ruffled his feathers before continuing to address Gustave, his question still hanging on the tip of his beak. “Why bother with a gun when you can do that? I couldn’t even manifest! Why not just barbeque anything that looks at ya funny with the full concentrated power of the sun? Seems pretty efficient if you ask me.”

Something akin to a friendly smirk crossed Gustave’s face, if only for a moment.

“For the same reason your master does not remain in his demonic form at all times. It takes its toll. And it is wholly unnecessary. My skill in battle is more than enough.” He answered simply, glancing over at V. It seemed that he was declining. It was probably best that he get to him sooner rather than later.

Griffon considered the option before nodding and making a sound that indicated that they were on the same page before retreating to his nonphysical form. It was best to not push V’s limits at a time like this, but he’d felt compelled to ask.

Sirrus let out a soft groan, shifting as he scooted away from the wall to reposition himself near the couch. He stayed out of the path, unable to so much as stand and not hoping to achieve that just yet. But he did want to be closer to V. Close enough to rest his hand on him and show him that he was there. He looked to be in a bad way, and the sight of it made his heart sink.

V flinched at his touch, opening his eyes just enough to see what was going on. But as soon as his eyes rested upon his friend, a barely perceptible, tired smile spread across his face before fading again as he closed his eyes and his body went still again. Sirrus looked down at him, fondness tinged with the pain that had reawakened during his relocation. Gustave would only be a moment. And thank goodness for it.

For now, Sirrus would comfort him. He would stay at his side. Always.

(-~-)

V, you are in good hands! Possibly. Maybe. Gustave, please don’t be the embodiment of the “Fuck you guy who is my doctor now” meme lol. He’s been through enough. Again, sorry for the late uploads. But despite that, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you in the comments and next week on Friday. Bye bye!

[eponastory]

Omg this made my heart bleed when I wrote this...

Putting her hand on the iron handle, she pulled one side of the doors open. A blast of cold air hit her in the face before she stepped outside into the courtyard. Standing in the middle next to the fire was a figure. It was a man with his back facing her. His broad shoulders were cloacked by the blue jacket he wore, and the sword on his back gave her a clue as to where he was from. His hood was up concealing the color of his hair, but she already knew. She stopped when the door slammed shut behind her. The sound, though muffled a little by the snow falling around them, drew his attention.

Her heart sped up as the man in front of her slowly turned around. His blue eyes peered out from underneath his hood, making Anna's heart almost stop once again. She knew those eyes intimately as they had stared up at her once before. He did not say anything, only lowered his hood to reveal his white hair. Anna closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears from forming in her eyes.

He was here. Right in front of her after twenty-four years of being without him. She opened her eyes again to see him in the light reflected from the snow around them.

Her son.

Alive and every bit of what she imagined him to be.

Her hands went to her mouth to stop the sobs from coming out, but it was the tears that were let loose. The tears that she kept bottled up for years after she became Matron. The tears she reserved for him alone.

The question was... did he know who she was?

I can just imagine the snow flying around Nero with the fire behind him as Anna is looking at him. Ugh... such a tear jerker moment there.

This excerpt comes from 'Do I Wait For Time to Do What It Does' and won't be published until I finish with the first story in the series.

[zandoog]

[soybean-official]

(not ship)

[harpybats]

[vngful]

[zeeckz]

[the-phantom-otaku]

The nice and naughty cat of the week

(I shouldn’t have had power in my back pocket)

Alternatives:

[sunkly]

[iszapizza]

Them

(I know this is a ship meme but I wanted to do this with them. PLEASE don’t tag as a ship, thank you)

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 81: Blunder

Chapter 81: Blunder

Note: Annnnd… My ass is late again. I’m sorry. Funny enough, I didn’t realize it until Wednesday that I hadn’t posted these chapters last week despite being done, and then I fell asleep on Friday before hitting publish. Then got busy today and… yeah. I’m trying, guys. My bad.

(-~-)

She’d taken precisely zero time to pack, grabbing the overnight bag that she’d pre-packed for her move and insisting that everything else could be procured along the way.

Their first stop had been the train station, and the walk back had been more of a trial than the first, the rain returning with a vengeance as the eye of the storm that had hunted them during their ride to town returned with a vengeance, drenching them and halting all train travel for several hours as they waited for the first train back with anxious hearts and bated breath.

Vivienne stood at the boarding platform in resolute silence, her breath even despite the subtle trembling of arms and legs as she clutched her luggage bag to her chest. Her eyes spoke of many things. There she stood, muddle-minded,  a misty-eyed woman whose face wore a tormented mixture of grief, anticipation, and anguish. She hadn’t thought about anything other than seeing him again since they’d left, not even what she’d say when her eyes fell upon him. But how could she be expected to think anything remotely sane at a time like this? The fact her eyes hadn’t fully glazed over, her unshed tears blinding her and her breath devolved into unbroken sobs was testament enough to her resolve.

She had to see him. That was the only clear thought in her mind.

Vergil observed her in silence. His calm exterior did not betray the deep-seated sense of conflict and longing he felt towards her. Longing to come to her side and comfort her, but none of the reassurance that doing so would be appropriate, given everything that had happened between them. 

After what felt like a lifetime, the trains were cleared for departure and they were able to board, taking a corner booth near a window. Their view was largely obscured by the rolling fog and pouring rain, but it was still a pleasant if not ironically appropriate view, given the current circumstances. Oh, how gloomy the weather had decided to be on such a harrowing occasion.

“So, you're moving, hu? Where to?”

Dante was the first to break the silence. He’d stayed silent, not wanting to intrude on the contemplative atmosphere, but after a while, he had to admit that being the third wheel in this specific situation was somewhat tortuous.

Vivienne’s eyes drifted over from their place at the window, her head resting against her palm as she leaned against the window. She’d been watching the rolling fields fly by, what little of them she could make out, at least. Something else to focus her mind on given the task at hand.

“I don’t know yet.” She admitted, her voice strained and her eyes tired. The reality of the situation had sunk in long ago, but it still didn’t feel like it. Not to her. “Everything you saw was on its way to storage or back to a rental company. I don’t keep much with me.”

Vergil shifted in his seat slightly, turning his head a minuscule amount to look at her. He seemed deep in thought, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he blinked several times in rapid succession.

“You relocate often.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation. This was the second address she’d moved from that he knew of, and at first glance, she hadn’t spent much time at either location. He recalled the elderly woman they’d spoken to stating that she kept to herself. When he’d known her a lifetime ago she'd been outgoing and ostentatious in her own right. Two decades had passed since then and neither of them were the young adults they’d been at the time, but that still seemed like a drastic change in her fundamental personality. Had she become more reclusive since their child’s presumed death? Or was there something more going on?

“Staying in one location for very long seems to attract the wrong kind of attention.” She divulged earnestly. It was the honest truth, even if the reasons for it were something she didn’t fully understand. But truth be told, she’d stopped questioning things a long time ago. It was so much easier to just accept things as they were and work within the confines of what she knew she could change. What she could predict.

“You’re being hunted?” It was Dante’s turn to chime in, his tone laced with concern and confusion in equal measure. A shared look between himself and his now silent twin was enough to tell him that neither of them had expected this to be the case, but reality always seemed to be stranger than fiction in these cases. Nothing had ever been straightforward that involved their bloodline. That was their curse.

Nodding in confirmation, she gave them a serious look. One somehow more drenched in existential dread than the one she’d worn previously. She almost seemed to be afraid to admit that out loud, perhaps for fear that it would inspire some sort of negative and undesired reaction. Or retaliation from the unspoken source of her torment. “On and off since the day they attacked the house. It’s become much less frequent in recent years, but I still relocate every year, give or take. I’m not taking any chances.”

Vergil gave her a deeply troubled look, the anguish and dissatisfaction that he felt towards that answer evident in everything from the slight shift in his demeanor to the way he clenched his teeth until his jaw ticked. To know that she’d been without peace the entire time they’d been apart made his blood boil. He could picture it now, his taloned fingers closing around the limp throat of whatever beast had sought to destroy her. He simply needed a name. Then they would pray for death.

“I see…”

“You think it has something to do with V, or something to do with you?” Dante inquired, feeling the negative energy cascade off of his twin as he sat opposite him, Vivienne glancing between them both as they spoke. She still hadn’t fully processed their uncanny resemblance. It was… intriguing how different they were despite how similar they somehow still managed to be. Like dark reflections of one another. Opposing faces on the same coin.

“Potentially both.” There was a vacancy to his tone of voice that betrayed his idle train of thought. His mind was elsewhere, his fantasies growing ever darker as he combed through the recesses of his mind in silent rage, compiling a list of likely suspects. Vergil had amassed many enemies during his tenure upon terra firma, but very few of them still drew breath. He’d seen to that personally. Swiftly. Ruthlessly. This would be no different.

Vivienne would have her peace. He would assure no less.

Dante nodded in agreement. Humans attached to their bloodline had a tendency to suffer for it. Perhaps the mere act of bearing V into existence had permanently branded her with the scent of their demonic essence. It was impossible to know. But she was with them now. And they would move hell itself to assure that no harm came to her. 

“I remember Nero saying something about his girlfriend’s parents getting attacked by some demons who might have followed him to their house. Seems to be a trend?” Dante said nonchalantly, sighing in apparent dismay. It was a small wonder that Vivienne was still walking the earth. And fully intact, no less. Twenty years was a long time to be plagued by frequent demon attacks. It was a wonder they’d never crossed paths through his line of work.

“It does, yes.” Vergil concurred, a touch more engaged in the conversation but no less enraged. He had… much to consider.

“Nero?”

Vivienne raised an eyebrow, a perplexed but curious twinkle in her eye. Now that was a name she was sure she hadn’t heard either of them mention just yet. Her curiosity was evident from her tone alone, the unspoken question on her lips being clear as day. Who was Nero?

The realization hit Vergil all at once, snatching him from his previous train of thought at lightspeed. His entire body down to the breath that left his lungs froze as he utterly failed to properly process the feeling of dread that overtook him as he realized what he’d just done.

Vergil let out a long sigh and leaned over, resting his head against his palm as his elbow came to a stop against his knee. Dante was tragically good at ousting him at the worst possible times, wasn’t he? And this time he’d helped him do it. He’d already been well aware of the fact that he had to tell her about his second son at some point, but he hadn’t expected that point to come before they even made it back to the office. This was not a conversation he wanted to have aboard a train in full view of the public, but it seemed that the time had come regardless.

“We… need to discuss something.”

(-~-)

Oh boy, Vergil is going to have to have one hell of a conversation. Oh, dear… Bye hey, I hope you liked the chapter despite how late it is! See you in chapter 82! It’s going up a few minutes after this one.

[liibrra]

SSSnoring

[alicethenobody]

This post is just my interpretation of the characters of course, not saying anything I say here is totally factual.

Dante and Nero are similar in a lot of ways, yet so very different in the way they treat their part human part demon nature.

If Vergil was burying the light (his humanity), Dante was burying the darkness (his inner demon). Ever since his mom died he suppressed his demon side, pretending he was a full human in his Tony Redgrave days. Not even the people closest to him (Grue and Nell) knew about his relation to Sparda.

Dante eventually accepted that part of himself, but it’s evidenced that he still hates said part. For example, in the DMC5 novel it’s explained he didn’t want to go to Patty’s birthday party because he’d be surrounded by “normal” (in his words) people and he doesn’t consider himself normal (though he plans to go see her after the mission anyways and the party has died down because he cares a lot about her) he very much has a “Everything I touch dies” mentality because in his mind his relation to Sparda is why the shit with Gilver (who was created by Mundus) happened and Grue, Jessica, and Nell suffered the consequences. This might also explain a lot about why in 3 he resented Sparda and the fact that he was related to him, constantly having demons ruining his life. And he hated the fact that he was part demon himself because demons are the reason he lost the people he loves. That’s why, despite his love for humanity and caring so much about his friends, he keeps the people he loves at a certain distance, he thinks it’s the only way to protect them. This extended to his nephew.

As for Nero? He started off similarly, hating his demonic side (growing up in Fortuna fucking sucked) and pretended to be fully human like Dante did as Tony by hiding his arm. When he asked Kyrie if “this is what she wanted” she essentially told him she wanted all of him, that included the part of himself that he hated. Ultimately, because he had someone like Kyrie, he was able to do something Dante couldn’t: He learned to love his demonic side, not even trying to hide his arm anymore when 5 takes place.

While Vergil’s theme is about burying his humanity, and Dante’s theme being about his inner demon wanting to break free, Nero’s theme is about embracing that side of him and wearing who he is on his sleeve.

Dante helped Nero a lot in DMC4 and was kind of a mentor figure to him. While Nero didn’t openly show it at the time, he really looks up to Dante and respects him, the fact that Dante accepted him as part of his business must’ve meant a lot to him. DMC5 ends with Nero returning the favor, by helping Dante realize he didn’t have to kill his brother again and that he could change and that they could mend their relationship. I think Nero would be the perfect person to help him maybe not hate himself for who he is so much? They’re both very good hearted people but I think Dante needs to be shown that being as self sacrificial about things as he is isn’t what’s best for him or anyone really.