#copper and dante are mine

[lightningfilledsaber]

Headshots + miscellaneous doodles of Copper, Dante, and Riot (oc of beloved friend and mutual @limonnazul of course)! Showing off more Content of them in preparation for Artfight <3

[cappymightwrite]

Ladies with beautiful hair...

"Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. She loved nothing so well as tales of knightly valor. Men would say she had my look, but she will grow into a woman far more beautiful than I ever was, you can see that. I often sent away her maid so I could brush her hair myself. She had auburn hair, lighter than mine, and so thick and soft... the red in it would catch the light of the torches and shine like copper." – ACOK, Catelyn VII

I recently went to 'The Rossettis' exhibition at the Tate Britain, which I would really reccommend going to if you're able (I think it'll be coming to the US at some point to)... though I will say, despite featuring work by Christina Rossetti and Elizabeth Rossetti (née Siddal), it is Dante Gabriel Rossetti who looms the largest.

His dominant presence reminded me of a little meta I wrote a while ago: GRRM, Sansa Stark & The Pre-Raphaelites. In the past, I'd focused more on John William Waterhouse, who, while not an founding member of the PRB, shared many similarities with them. But I think maybe it's worth revisiting the PRB, and more specifically the 'hair-mad' Dante Gabriel.

We might think GRRM is pretty into red heads, often taking the time to describe the fiery lustre of auburn hair, but it is Rossetti who is the true and original red head fanatic. Just take writer Elizabeth Gaskell's word on, from a letter written in October 1859, where she reported her experiences with DGR at two evening parties:

"I think we got to know Rossetti pretty well […] I had a good deal of talk with him, always excepting the times when ladies with beautiful hair came in […] It did not signify what we were talking about or how agreeable I was; if a particular kind of reddish brown, crepe wavy hair came in, he was away in a moment struggling for an introduction to the owner of said head of hair. He is not as mad as a March hare, but hair-mad."

Elizabeth Siddal, an artist in her own right, as well as perhaps the PRB's most famous model and muse, notably possessed this "particular kind of reddish, brown" hair...

I need to dedicate a bit more time to this train of thought, though I have touched on GRRM's love of red heads before. It just seems so clear to me that Sansa Stark, with her beautiful hair, is in many ways an idealised beauty at first glance (a flat first impression some in the fandom haven't moved on from), but the more we read, the more the story grows, the more layered she becomes. Similarly, though at first glance Rossetti's painting may appear like idealised visions of beauty, on closer inspection they reveal something deeper:

"During their mid-20s, Gabriel and Elizabeth worked together in his studio and had a great influence on each other’s work. Their richly patterned drawings and watercolours conjure complex, imaginative worlds. Using themselves as models, they created medieval fantasies of love and temptation, loyalty and betrayal. Complicated relationships are expressed in intricate gestures, poses and spaces." – Medieval Moderns, Tate Britain

I find Sansa a very enjoyable and gratifying character to read and follow, because hers is a character and narrative that unfolds slowly and that is full of observation. It pays to look just as closely at her gestures/behaviour, like a Rossetti painting, as you would her speech. And it pays to remember that GRRM is an admirer of the PRB...

[colitcollp]

Exploring the Dante Cu-Au-PGE-Ni Project: Unveiling Western Australia's Rich Mineral Deposits

Located in Western Australia, the Dante Cu-Au-PGE-Ni Project stands as a testament to the region's abundance in critical minerals. This flagship project, acquired entirely by the Company in October 2023, holds immense promise for the mining industry.

The West Musgrave region, where the project is situated, has gained prominence for its extensive deposits of vital minerals like copper, cobalt, and nickel. GCX Metals, the driving force behind this endeavor, has executed a comprehensive Rock Chip program. This initiative has successfully identified mineral anomalies rich in Cu-Au-PGE-Ni (Copper, Gold, Platinum Group Elements, and Nickel).

[valkyrja-pride]

Being honest, I feel a little bit anxious and excited at the same time to share this with you all. Back on the first day in October 2019, I was one of the lucky artists getting picked for the contribution to the beautiful Devil May Cry @invictuszine !! I can’t even explain you how much of an honor that meant to me, since I had this on my bucket list for an extremely long time. And actually seeing this become reality.... I feel all sorts of emotions welling up in me. My topic was Events leading up to Dante opening Devil May Cry, which, as you can see, I took as my artist’s liberty of interpretation to heart. 

Since last year, I have been playing around with the thought of food illustrations though I never posted anything related to it on social media and being able to incorporate this small interest of mine into the artwork had me nervous to no end. The time spent on this piece was always harsh yet rewarding after working hours. 

So at this point, I would love to mention the support @copper-wasp was giving!!! They made the zine truly warm and accepting on every frontline!!! All in all... Thank you for being my first zine, Invictus!! Couldn’t have wished for a better start than it has been here! Please enjoy this piece, whether it is in physical form in the actual zine or just digitally! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Btw, if you like my art, how about you invite me for a cup of ko-fi? ☕❤️

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [3]: Fucking Vergil

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 3/9 Chapter [1] [2]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 3: Fucking Vergil, in which Vergil gets a hair cut and then tries to explain the birds and the bees to Nero.

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Nero’s hand flexes around the holster of his gun as they stand outside of Vergil’s apartment. It feels like every nerve in his body is tense and ready to spring, the coil growing tighter when Dante raps on the door.

“Who is it?” a voice calls from inside.

“It’s me,” Dante says. “Need to ask you about something.”

“No thanks.”

Nero curses and aims his foot at the door jamb, breaking it open with one powerful kick. A moment later he is standing next to Vergil, his revolver pointed at his temple. Vergil glances up from the book he is reading, and he grumbles as he leans forward to grab a bookmark from the table, not even flinching when the barrel presses against his skin. “I said, no thank you.”

“Where is she?” Nero seethes.

Vergil places the book on the table and sits back in his chair. “Where is who?”

“Kyrie. Where is she?”

Nero watches as Vergil glances over at Dante, who has pulled up a stool from the kitchen bar off to the side. The living room is decorated handsomely, if not a bit old fashioned, and Dante nearly knocks over a stained glass lamp as he perches on the seat, catching it just in time. “What is he talking about?” Vergil asks.

“His girl Kyrie is missing. Been gone since this morning.” Dante jerks his chin up. “He thinks you know something.”

Nero grits his teeth as Vergil turns to look at him. He holds the gun steady even though his other hand is trembling, and the barrel now points directly to his forehead. “Why would I know where she is?”

“Because a demon relative of mine took her,” Nero growls. “And the only person that could be is you.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Nero cocks the hammer, the click feeling satisfying. “I’ll give you five seconds.”

Vergil gives him an angry look. “Dante, would you do something about this?”

“I told him it probably wasn’t you.”

“Four.”

Vergil whips around, and Nero pushes the gun against the side of his head. “Probably!” he snaps. “What do you mean, probably?”

Dante holds up his hands. “Hey, I defended you.”

“Three.”

“Some defense,” Vergil grumbles. “You probably made it worse. Get out of my apartment.”

“I didn’t even want to come!” 

“Two.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

Dante gestures towards Nero. “His girl is missing. He’s a wreck. If I didn’t tag along he’d probably end up killing someone.”

Nero squeezes the trigger. The shot explodes in the room and he is knocked backward, not by the recoil, but because Vergil has him by the throat. Nero is thrown onto his back as Vergil climbs over him and pins him to the floor. His grip is firm, but not choking, and Nero struggles for a second before realizing he can’t break his hold. Vergil restrains the hand holding the gun to the ground by his forearm, slamming it hard to knock it away. “How dare you,” Vergil growls, and Nero looks up furiously, pleased to see the tips of his hair a bit singed from where he had dodged. “I just had a haircut, and let me tell you, it was not cheap.”

“Let him up, Vergil,” Dante sighs.

“No.” He slams Nero’s arm again, and a bolt of pain goes through his wrist, causing his grip to loosen. Vergil snatches the gun from his hand and straightens up, half sitting on Nero’s leg. “This isn’t a toy, you know,” he scolds, shaking the revolver in demonstration.

“I know you have her,” Nero says. His voice is tight with emotion, and having been so easily disarmed pisses him off. Vergil’s eyes narrow a bit, the ends creasing slightly, and Nero doesn’t know if it is in pity or concern or anger, and that pisses him off even more. 

Vergil presses his lips together and stands. “I don’t have her. I don’t know anything about this.” 

Nero sits up, leaning forward to catch his breath, his arms draped over his knees. The gun comes into view, and he looks up to see Vergil handing it back. He snatches it away, pressing the grip to his forehead now damp with sweat. “She’s gone,” he says harshly. “Kyrie is gone, someone took her and sent me a note not to look for her and…” His chest goes tight and his vision blurs, and Nero can feel his pulse racing. “If you don’t have her then I don’t know where else to look.”

He takes a minute to wait it out, refusing to let any pain or fear take over again. Every moment he spends focusing on that is a moment he’s not focusing on her. When he looks up, he sees Vergil studying him, and Dante looking on with what could best be called mild interest.

Vergil seems like he struggles to say something, until finally he asks, “Did you call the police?”

“They won’t do anything,” Nero mutters.

“Where is this note?”

He looks up at Vergil suspiciously, but the truth is, he is suddenly too tired to argue. Instead he pulls the note from his pocket and holds it up. Vergil takes it and opens the paper carefully, frowning as he reads. “Whoever it is could have been a bit more cryptic,” he mutters sarcastically.

“Any ideas?” Dante asks.

Vergil shakes his head. “Who told you it was a relative?”

“Empath.” Dante sighs. “She’s usually spot on with this stuff.”

Vergil considers for a moment. “And you’re sure she was kidnapped, and didn’t just leave?”

Nero growls and pushes to his feet before snatching back the note. “Yeah, I’m fucking sure. Kyrie wouldn’t ever do that.”

He scowls at Vergil, who gives him a patronizing look. “How can you be so sure? Because you are in love?” he laughs.

“Yeah,” Nero answers sharply. “That’s right.” He bristles, debating whether a punch to the jaw or another shot to the head would wipe that look off Vergil’s face when his cell phone rings suddenly.

Nero yanks it from his pocket, frowning in surprise at the number. “Yeah?” he answers.

“Nero? It’s Trish.”

“Yeah. This isn’t a good time—”

“It’s about Kyrie.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. Dante starts to ask but Nero waves them both away, turning so he can focus on the call. “Do you know where she is?”

“No. But Nico called me looking for Morrison and told me what happened. I have a contact in the demon world that might be able to help you out.”

Nero nods. “Okay. What do I need to do?”

“He frequents a bar out in Clear Point. It’s a three hour drive. Do you know it?”

“No. But I’ll go.” He glances back at the others. “What do you think he knows?”

“Everything. Anything. If someone in the demon world has Kyrie, he’d know.”

“Send me the address.” Nero ends the call and looks at the time. It’s half past nine, which means if he leaves now, he'll be there after midnight. “We gotta go,” he says to Dante.

“Sounds good.” Dante stands and stretches, then nods to Vergil. “You coming?”

“What? No,” Nero says at the same time Vergil replies, “Why would I go?”

Dante looks between them both. “Come on, Vergil. We could use another hand. Plus you look like you could use some fun.”

Vergil huffs a laugh, but Nero narrows his eyes. “Absolutely not. He’s not coming with us.”

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Vergil leans over the front console, his arms resting on the back of the seats. “I still don’t see why I couldn’t sit in the front.”

“‘Cause I called shotgun,” Dante grins. “You snooze, you lose, brother.”

Vergil snorts. “I’ve never lost at anything in my life.”

“Except to me.”

“Would you both shut it?” Nero snaps. “We still have plenty of miles left and I’m not listening to this the whole drive.”

Dante glances over. It would seem to a casual observer that Nero is just annoyed at them, but he can tell that the kid is tense. Dangerously tense. His hands grip the wheel of the van so tightly his knuckles are white, his arms and shoulders straining under his leather coat. His face is twisted into a deep scowl, his brows drawn deeply together. He would wager a guess that Nero is ready to snap at the first opportunity, and Dante wonders if they will even make it to the bar.

“What did Trish say again?” he asks.

Nero huffs. “Just what I told you. This guy knows what’s going on in the demon realm. He’ll have heard something if there’s something worth hearing.”

“Sounds suspicious to me,” Vergil says.

“Nobody asked you,” he mutters.

Dante looks back over his shoulder. “Why’s that?”

“The chance of a random demon knowing anything about Kyrie is slim to none,” he says. “He’s not even in the same city. How would he know what is going on in Fortuna?”

“Ah, you know demons,” Dante says. 

“I do, and this doesn’t make sense.” Vergil leans back. 

“You could always leave?” Nero suggests with a fake cheerfulness.

Vergil mutters something under his breath, but Dante glances over at Nero again. There is something that has been nagging him since he saw the note, and he figures now is as good a time as any to ask. He rubs his hand on his head for a second before asking, “How do you know Kyrie didn’t write that note?”

The van swerves for a second before Nero rights it. Dante grabs the overhead bar to steady himself as Vergil gives a shout from the back. “What the hell you doing?” he yells.

“Why would you even ask that?” Nero yells back. “Kyrie didn’t write it!”

“What happened with you two last night?” Dante asks. Nero’s shoulders stiffen and he leans a bit closer. “I can read you like a book, kid.”

“Nothing happened,” Nero hisses.

“Didja fight or something?”

“No.”

“She getting on your nerves?”

“No!”

Vergil leans forward again, his face popping into view between them. “Women are hardly worth the trouble. They’re either lying or picky as hell.”

“Fucking hell!” Nero pulls the van over to the side of the highway, stopping in the emergency parking. He yanks the gear shift into park so hard it looks like he could tear it off, and then turns to glare at the two brothers. “Both of you shut the hell up about Kyrie! She didn’t leave me and she didn’t write that letter and nothing happened!”

Dante’s brow draws down. “Nobody said nothing about her leaving you.”

“You did!” Nero argues. “You said she wrote it. That’s what you meant, isn’t it?” He throws out his hand and yells, “So what? You think she just took off and doesn’t want me looking for her?”

Vergil shrugs. “It’s a possibility.”

“No, it’s not.” Nero’s tone is dangerous as he hisses through gritted teeth, “The next person that says something like that about her is going to get my fist in their face, got it? Kyrie did not leave me.”

A tense silence fills the van for several moments. Then quietly, Dante says, “What happened?”

“Nothing! Nothing happened! Nothing…” Nero’s voice twists and he turns around to look out the front window. He pounds his fist on the steering wheel and bows his head. “We… we had sex. Okay? We did it and everything was fine. I thought everything was fine.” Dante winces as he watches Nero struggle to breathe, the air escaping him in a light whine. “She said she loved me. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t do this.”

“First time, huh?” Dante asks.

Nero gives him a sharp look, but then he nods. “We were waiting. She said she wanted to wait, and I was cool with that, you know? She’s so good and beautiful and… look, I know I don’t deserve her. I know she could do way better than me.” Dante reaches out to give him a reassuring pat on the arm, but Nero shakes him off. “She loves me. She wouldn’t do this.”

The quiet is now uncomfortable, the only sound Nero’s sniffling, and Dante tries to think of what to say. But before he can impart some wisdom, Vergil asks, “Did you get her pregnant?”

“What? No!” Nero cries.

“How do you know?” prods Vergil. “Did you do it right?”

“Do it—what the hell are you talking about?”

Nero glares at him furiously but Vergil shrugs. “I thought that might be why she left. Maybe she doesn’t want a demon child.”

“She doesn’t care about that! And she’s not pregnant. We only did it once,” Nero says furiously.

Vergil gives a chuckle. “That’s all it takes. All it took for you anyway.”

Nero visibly recoils. “Oh my god.”

“I’m surprised Dante doesn’t have a dozen brats running around.” Vergil frowns at Dante, seeming to examine him, and Dante frowns back. “How did you manage to escape the plague that is fatherhood?”

“Well, I…” Dante clears his throat. “Lucky.”

Vergil slides up a bit more and eyes him suspiciously. “Have you even had sex before?”

“Loads of times,” Dante scoffs. “Women love me. Tell him, Nero,” he says, gesturing at the kid. “How much did Lir want me, hm? She was all over me.”

Nero makes a noise of disgust as Vergil snorts. “I’m sure that’s entirely true,” he says, his tone clear that he does not believe that one bit, before turning back to Nero. “You do realize that pleasuring a woman takes more than just some good looks and charm. There are certain places on the body that—”

“I’m not listening to this!” cries Nero.

“Women are delicate creatures but they also have different needs—”

“Would you shut up?”

Dante points to Vergil. “He’s got a point, you should listen.”

“This is my worst nightmare.”

“No, really,” Dante says seriously. “A girl’s first time, she’s gonna be skittish, right? That’s why you gotta put it in real slow, not go straight to pound town.”

Vergil nods. “That’s what I was saying, Dante. If you need some advice, Nero, then I can—”

“For! Fuck’s! Sake!” Nero looks back and forth at them with revulsion. “I don’t need any damn advice from you,” he snaps, pointing at Vergil. Then he points at Dante and growls, “Or you. And if you say that about Kyrie again I’ll rip your head off. You both got it?”

“Yeah,” Dante replies.

“We are just trying to help,” Vergil adds.

“I don’t need your help. And I really don’t fucking need to hear about sex from the two of you. Let’s just get to Clear Point. And nobody talk again. About anything. Ever.” Vergil gives an annoyed huff as he slides into the back again, and Nero throws the van into gear. Before pulling back onto the road, he glances at Dante. “Pound town? Are you twelve?”

“Just telling the truth, kid,” he chuckles, looking back out the window as the lights on the freeway slip by.

[thefishychicken]

Rainbow Six Tag

I was tagged by @r6shippingdelivery and haven’t done these in awhile so I just wanted to

Name: Suzie. Mr. Suzie if you’re nasty

Nationality: Bolivian-American

Pc or console: PC

Time played: 390

Highest rank: I played ranked the first month I got the game, got something low and then dropped to Copper IV. Never did it again

Defense or attack: I like attacking more, but do better on defense

Mains: Blitz, Jäger, Iana, Valk

Favorite female voice: Hibana because she sounds so smug at times

Favorite male voice: Blitz

Favorite ctu: GSG 9 all the way!

Favorite gun: MPX or FMG-9

Favorite gamemode: Secure

Season started in: White Noise

Favorite ship: You can talk me into loving anything, but most like Monty/Bandit because @kiruuuuuuu sold me on their dynamic

Least favorite ship: Fuze/ Jäger

Do you write about r6? If so, who and what?

If you call fics about crack ships and random smut ideas writing, then yes

Do you (want to) do cosplay? If so who?

I have cosplayed in the past, I did a Slutty Blitz for a gaming convention @swordliger and I went to

Do you draw r6? If so, what?

I keep wanting to get into drawing but everything I do is a mess so and my perfectionism won’t let me attempt anything I’m not perfect at so...

Do you use vc ingame?

Yes, unless there’s someone who thinks I’m a girl because then I just let them live their fantasy.

Do you cope with stressfull situations well?

Yes if it’s short-term. My brain is really good at ignoring all other things and just focusing on the stressors until it goes away. The problem is when the stress is long-term, because then it leads me to ignore tasks that are vital to my well-being

Do you rather play solo or with friends?

Friends because you know I’m a social Suzie who needs someone to talk to

Do you do anything special with others in the fandom?

Anything special? I run a blog that does some writing events throughout the year, but other than that not much.

Do you have a r6 oc? If so give a short bio!

My OC, Dante, is the only one I have for Siege. He is a brilliant scientist who has helped pioneer the field of bacteriophage therapy. The downside is that a lot of people don’t like working with him because they think he’s childish. His gadget gives him temporary immunity to toxic Smoke grenades and Lesion mines.

I don’t know who to tag that hasn’t already done this. I guess @swordliger @dagoth-menthol and @steamclouds

[copper-wasp]

Even a Devil May Drabble: Dante x Reader (Part 9/?)

Title: Survival Horror

Posted to AO3!

Rating: T

Words: 1,554

You and Dante decide to play some Resident Evil.

-:- -:- -:-

“Dante.... Dante, I’m scared,” you said nervously, directing the character on the tv screen around a corner. Luckily this one was empty, and you let out a shaky sigh of relief.

You had managed to survive the game so far, using all of your stock of green herbs, as Leon S. Kennedy was apparently quite a tasty treat for the undead.

You glanced over at Dante, who was sitting next to you on the sofa, a smug look on his face. He caught your eye, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “Why are you looking at me like that? Something’s about to happen, isn’t it?” you asked, flicking your gaze back and forth between the screen and Dante. He shrugged, not giving you any hint of what was to come, the asshole.

You turned another corner and were faced with the helicopter that had crashed into the side of the Raccoon City Police Department. At least it wasn’t on fire anymore, you having made Leon suffer a few zombie bites to drench the flames with water just minutes prior.

“So how am I supposed to get past this-?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. Suddenly, though, your question was answered.

“What the hell!?” both you and your video game counterpart exclaimed simultaneously, as the helicopter was lifted off of the floor and tossed out of the hole it made on the way in by a very large, sharply dressed behemoth of a creature.

You lined up the shot and fired a couple times, but he kept coming, undeterred by the three bullets in his face. You did manage to knock his hat off, but something told you that wasn’t exactly going to help your situation. “Dante! Dante, what do I do!?! Help me!”

Dante, meanwhile, was cackling beside you and being of absolutely no help. You emptied the clip, pushing hard on the joystick as you tried to make Leon walk backwards.

“You, ha, you have to run! You can’t kill him, sweet cheeks,” Dante replied between laughs.

“Oh, now he tells me!” you lamented, at last trying to turn around and escape, but a big meaty hand grabbed poor Leon by the head, lifting him straight up off the ground. You made a strained noise, preparing yourself for yet another creative death for the rookie cop.

You cringed at the sound of the poor boy’s head being crushed, red dripping down his shoulders. Sighing, you looked annoyedly at the “YOU ARE DEAD” screen, mocking you for your failure.

“He crushed poor Leon’s head, Dante. Why would he do that?” you asked, trying to look pathetic.

Dante hooked his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a side hug. “Aw, it’s okay, you can just reload,” he offered.

“Oh, no. I am done with this for now,” you said with a chuckle. “I am gonna have so many nightmares about Mr. Dapper Horrifying Man.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe from the Tyrant,” Dante said, grabbing the controller from your hands and reloading your last save.

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called. Fitting,” you commented, sparing a glance at the clock on the wall. Nearly midnight. “All right, I’m gonna head off to bed... goodnight.”

“‘Night, [Y/N],” Dante replied, navigating Leon through the police station with ease.

-:- -:- -:-

You couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes you were running through the blood-covered halls of the RPD, chased by zombies or lickers or the Tyrant. Giving up, you rolled out of bed and made your way downstairs to the kitchen, a big glass of water in your future.

You leaned back against the counter, downing your glass in a few swallows. You placed the glass in the sink, about to head back upstairs when you heard a creak, followed by a low, grumbling noise.

Eyes wide, you looked into the dark main area, only the bronze glow of the jukebox visible in the blackness. “What the fuck was that?” you asked yourself quietly, squinting to try to cut through the dark.

Padding slowly over, you guided yourself along the wall until you found the light switch. You flicked it on, temporarily blinding yourself until your eyes got used to the fluorescence. Looking around, you saw nothing. The room was messy as usual, and Dante had left his empty beer bottles and pizza box on the coffee table.

Taking another look around, and satisfied that you were alone, you flipped the switch back off and headed for the stairs. Just as you stepped onto the first one, you heard the grumbling noise again, much closer than before.

Your entire body tensed, holding onto the railing with a white-knuckled grip. You took a deep breath, ready to book it up the stairs, but before you could, you felt two hands grab your waist, pulling you back into the darkness.

You screamed in surprise and horror, frantically batting at the thing holding you with your fists and feet, until you heard Dante’s distinctive laugh.

“...Dante?” you asked, the hands releasing you.

“Oh man, did I get you good,” the man replied, and a moment later, the lights flicked back on, bathing the two of you in yellowy light. You were shaking still, arms wrapping around yourself as you tried to maneuver your heart out of your throat.

You caught his eye, and his smile immediately faded when he saw the look on your face. “Oh, shit....” he said, striding over to you quickly. “You’re really scared, aren’t you?”

“Yes, you asshole!” you spat, rubbing at your forehead. “You fucking scared me!”

You felt Dante wrap his arms around you again, and you tried to push him away, weakly beating on his bare chest to let you go, but he was a warm, comfortable wall, and you soon let him hold you close, soothingly rubbing his palms up and down your back.

“Hey I’m... I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d scare you that much,” he apologized, one hand making its way to the back of your head, gently stroking your hair.

“It’s... okay,” you said after a long moment, luxuriating in the feel of his hands on you. You pulled away, but Dante kept his hands on your waist, looking at you with an embarrassed smile.

“You really forgive me?” he asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You nodded sleepily, the intense fear having sapped your energy. Dante leaned down to kiss your cheek gently, and your eyes fluttered shut, leaning on him a bit to hold you upright. His lips were soft, and you lamented when they left your skin.

His name left your lips in a whisper, and you cringed when you realized what you did. He chuckled softly, pressing another kiss to your cheek, followed by another, and another until he met the corner of your mouth. You opened your eyes, seeing his already fixed on you, bright and blue. Drawing your body even closer to his, he tilted your chin up and gave you a feather-light kiss on your lips, drawing away before you even really got to enjoy it.

You reached up to place a hand on his cheek, trying to ask him to kiss you again without words. Luckily, even Dante wasn’t that dense, and he graciously gave you what you wanted, pressing his mouth against yours more insistently.

He groaned in satisfaction against your lips, placing a hand at the back of your neck to keep you where he wanted. He licked at your bottom lip, entreating entrance, and you quickly allowed him access. He tasted faintly of minty toothpaste, a fleeting thought as he pressed his strong tongue against yours, exploring your needy mouth.

Your hands found purchase in his soft, silvery hair, and you pulled back from him to breathe, your eyes half lidded in a heady mixture of sleepiness and arousal.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep standing up,” Dante said, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

You smiled at him, leaning in to nuzzle against his neck. “I guess you’ll have to carry me back upstairs to bed,” you said in a low, husky voice, pressing your lips against his skin.

His hands crept down your back, spending an extra moment caressing over your rear before hoisting you up under your thighs and guiding your legs around his waist. You giggled, linking your arms behind his neck. “I didn’t think you’d be this agreeable to carrying me,” you commented as he made his way back to the stairs.

He barked out a laugh, squeezing your bottom as he ascended. “Whose bed do you think I’m taking you back to?” he asked and you sucked in a breath, his heated tone sending a tingle right to your center.

“Oh I hope it’s mine, your room is a mess,” you teased, ruffling his hair as he carried you to the second floor.

“Fine,” he conceded, gently kicking open the door to your room. “But I plan on making a whimpering mess out of you.”

“Dante, come on....” you replied, embarrassed. He dropped you unceremoniously onto your bed, crawling on top of you and nuzzling against your neck.

“You can call me Leon if you want,” he offered, a hand sliding underneath your shirt as you giggled, the Tyrant being the last thing on your mind.

-:- -:- -:-

Thank you for reading!

Find me on:

Twitter: copper_wasp_

AO3: copper-wasp

[ranbydoghair]

7 and 30!

7) What was your first dog’s name? The first dog I grew up with was named Copper, a flat coated retriever, but the first dog that was mine was Dante, a bc mix30) What is your dog’s least favorite treat? Loki is really picky, and only likes v crunchy treats, but Bruno will eat everything but French fries Thanks!!!!!

[davidmorgan035]

Rising Ether Bitcoin Price Ratio Shows Crypto Risk Appetite

Crypto investors have thrown caution to the wind, as evidenced by the recent rise in the ether–bitcoin (ETH/BTC) price ratio, and the trend looks set to continue.  “ETH/BTC shows a bullish breakout, and that’s a sign of marketwide riskon where alternative cryptocurrencies tend to outperform BTC,” Katie Stockton, founder and managing partner at Fairlead Strategies, said. 

Some crypto investors see bitcoin, the biggest cryptocurrency by market value, and stable coins as safehaven assets within cryptocurrency markets – a goto place during times of stress similar to Japanese yen, Swiss franc, or U.S. Treasury’s in traditional markets. After all, bitcoin is the biggest cryptocurrency by market value and most liquid market in the digitalasset space along with stable coins like tether. 

Binance Smart Chain Beats Ethereum by Some Metrics Thanks to Latest Craze Meanwhile, ether and alternative cryptocurrencies are seen as relatively risky bets similar to growthsensitive assets like copper, gold, stock markets, Australian dollar. 

So a rising ETH/BTC could reflect improved risk appetite in crypto markets. That has been the case in the past and in recent weeks.  For example, bitcoin rallied 12% last week but underperformed almost all crypto subsectors, including nonfungible tokens and Web 3.0 tokens. During the same timeframe, ETH/BTC rose over 3%.

A similar action was seen from the midApril to midMay period. On Thursday, etherbitcoin jumped to a twomonth high of 0.073, confirming a descending triangle breakout on the daily chart. Bitcoin Returns Above $40K; Faces Resistance at $45K$50K the breakout indicates that the consolidation has ended, and the bigger Bull Run from March lows near 0.03 has resumed. 

“ETH/BTC has broken out of a twomonth consolidation given recent strength in ether,” chartered market technician and Coin Desk reporter Dominick Dante’s said. “It’s a bullish continuation pattern. Next resistance is seen around 0.8.” Story continues In other words, ether and other alt coins could continue to outshine bitcoin in the near term. Click here for more information: Latest Cryptocurrency and Bitcoin News

The technical picture gels well with the narrative that the crypto market is evolving, with investors beginning to bypass bitcoin and going directly into other industry subsectors.  The path of least resistance for etherbitcoin appears to be on the higher side in the wake of the London hard fork implemented on Thursday.

“The notion of ether becoming a deflationary cryptocurrency in the future is now tangible, and the effects on Ethereum’s valuation could be profound,” Martin Gaspar, research analyst at Cross Tower told Coin Desk. 

With the hard fork implemented, Ethereum now burns a portion of the fees paid to miners, thereby causing a net reduction in the issuance. For example, the blockchain has already burnt or destroyed more than 5,000 ETH since the upgrade took effect Thursday, offsetting about 40% of the 12,000plus coins mined during the period. 

“Ethereum will likely become the favored crypto trade on Wall Street and could see limited resistance towards the $3,000 level,” Edward Moya, senior market analyst for the Americas at brokerage firm Oanda, wrote Friday in an email.

[kristie-rp]

orders

Who: Neve Niksmith, Dante, John Talbot Westlake III, Paris Remmington What: Newborns, soulbonds, plots, and bad moons.

-------------

“Move.”

Dante has no qualms about shoving Neve and the other demons out of the way, regardless of their involvement in maintaining the portal.

The newborn in view has a mess of matted dark hair. It’s pink and quiet, wrinkled and damp and bloody as the nurse towels it off. Neve watches as a bespectacled woman, looking harried and curious, reaches for the thing. There is a soft pink cord trickling from her chest, reaching somewhere beyond the room. More threads criss-cross the room, and Neve ignores the ones attached to the nurse.

After all, the only one Dante cares about is the thick pearlescent thread on the newborns chest, the rope-like thickness indicative of a strong bond. Neve’s breath catches at the sight of it, but she quickly returns to the standard, back ramrod straight and hands tucked behind her back. After all, difference will catch the would-be-Usurpers attention, and that is not something she wants; he may be confined to the Pit, but he can make all of them suffer.

Back to the rope, which Neve examines carefully. It’s thick, indicative of a strong bond. The pearlescence suggests the match has not yet been born, that this creature – Dante’s half-human son -  has bonded with a soul that already existed, one that is out of body. She doesn’t know where the match has existed before, or who it is; it is not in her power to know.

Dante’s jaw is locked when she dares a glance towards him. He is fuming, though it’s largely a sense of aura that makes this evident. Dante’s aura is expansive and domineering, drowning all of theirs as it fills the room, more like soup than an aura has any right to be. It’s thick, dark red, swirled through with gray. Disappointment, Neve realises, paired with anger.

No, not anger – more than that. Outrage, perhaps?

“Sir?” someone dares to prompt. It’s not Neve. She doesn’t speak to Dante unless he initiates the exchange.

“That bond,” he starts in a hiss, starts and stops, catching himself. His tone shifts from outrage to something pleasant as she listens, and she clamps down on a shudder. “Mortals and their soulmates,” he says, dismissive. “It would be interesting to see the consequences of severing the bond, no?”

She doesn’t like the sound of that; she looks again at his face, unmoving except for her eyes. He is smiling, and his teeth are too sharp in his narrow face, gleaming against skin that shimmers gold. Dante is determined, and she’s not suicidal enough to risk challenging him, or trying to talk him out of it. All she can be do is be thankful, in her way, that the mate is not born yet. It’ll be born without a bond, of course, and that sense of being incomplete will permeate their existence. But as Dante looks at her, and she looks up to meet his gleaming gaze, she can’t help being grateful that she won’t have that kind of pain on her conscience.

“Neve, was it? I’ve good news for you. You can finally prove your worth to me. Cut the bond; it shouldn’t be too hard. No son of mine will suffer a mortal soulmate.” The word curdles the air, the way he says it; clearly Dante believes that dependence on others is not a blessing. If anything, he seems to believe it’s a curse, the way he’s insisting on ending it.

She wonders absently if there’s a story behind it, if there’s some pain there to cause this standing. She wonders with more focus why he bothered freeing her from Hecate’s clutches, only to reject her loyalty. She wonders if this is any better than being the slave of a witch.

“It will be done,” she hears herself say, and summons a corrupted athame to her fingertips.

-

The hospital is chemically clean, bleach and something lemon in the air. Neve pulls on a less sinister appearance, softening the lines of tainted humanity in an illusion only the insane and Gifted will see through. She might have lost her humanity, but she has not lost her decency. Not yet. She steals a set of soft cotton scrubs, pastel pink like what the nurses in the maternity ward wear, and heads there.

The baby seems smaller in person. There’s a human clipboard in a language Neve casts a spell to understand, unfamiliar with modern English. Name – John Talbot Westlake III. Born – 12:01 AM, 25th July 2003. Birth weight – 5.6 pounds. Gender – male. Mother – Janelle Olivia Westlake. Father – John Talbot Westlake II. (She smiles at that, a tired effort. She does not know if this Janelle knows John II isn’t actually the father, if she’s aware that she bedded Dante last Halloween while he wore her husbands face and used the thinness of the barriers between existence to reach the earth. She isn’t certain she wants to know.)

Neve stops reading it, choosing instead to examine the child. It’s a baby; she doesn’t know how else to describe it. It’s pale and wrinkled and, when she touches it, soft and warm. The hair atop its’ head is lighter in person, a rich brown instead of a pitch black. Asleep like this, it’s almost possible to forget its limited mortality. That it will have powers that exceed that of many demons. (Not her, of course, but in a life before this, before debt and slavery, she was a powerful witch, and some things transcend species. It’s her own gluttony for power that got her enslaved to Hecate, and her foolish optimism that landed her in Dante’s service. Somehow.)

And the thread – it’s not as thick in person, but it never is, not when the portals tend to exaggerate things that stand out from the humans on this plane. It’s a fine thread, neatly braided; it looks strong to Neve’s gaze, and she chews absently on her lip, jagged incisors piercing softened skin and dragging forth copper blood. She wipes it away and draws the athame, murmuring the spell that will let her interact with the cord, and grips it with her hand.

She’s not likely to be able to cut it when it wakes up, after all, and so she must make this quick. Her expression does not shift with the task, and she trusts that the cameras cannot catch her and her actions, if they are in operation at all.

She saws at the thread, catching on resistance she wishes she did not know to expect. Too many monsters have tried cutting these cords in the past, and today, she is just like them.

She wonders if, if she’d expected to get here, of all places, before she heard the rumours of how a demon can amplify a witches power, if she’d have still taken the deal. Knowing herself, knowing her flaws, she thinks she might.

She’s sawing at a bond that isn’t breaking, and she is forced to drop the blade as her wrists burn. It starts off manageable, but it gets worse as she works, and her fingers refuse to cooperate any longer. She bites her tongue against her pain, drawing yet more blood, which pools in her mouth and drops on the baby as her lips, too thin as her illusion wavers, part.

It wakes the child, and she braces herself for tears, for screaming. For attention reigning down on her, for having to explain herself and her athame. For drawing attention to her failure, to her inability to cut a bond – only she knows this isn’t new, she’s heard of it before. Paimon and Christabella, over and over again, have demons trying to rip their bond apart; it never works for them, it’s impossible to break it. And this – this baby, Dante’s baby, and the little unborn mortal it’s tied to, they are going to be inseperable. Neve’s heart, if she still has one, is in her throat; even if it doesn’t, it feels like it is. None of the spells she can think of will soothe the pain at her wrists, and her hands shake above the baby as black marks burn themselves around each of her wrists like manacles. They’re the exact same shade as the mark her efforts have left on the soulbond.

John Talbot Westlake III is a baby, but there are no tears. Hazel eyes stare up at her, the gold and ice blue in them gleaming like sparks. She swallows; this is the look Dante gave her the first time they were introduced, curious and impatient. This look brooks no argument, no matter what it is. This look makes her shiver, deep in her bones, piercing the hollow in her chest where she once held a heart.

This baby – this boy – he is going to be terrifying. And he’s going to be unguided. And Neve cannot break his soulbond; no one will be able to, not without obliterating her soul.

She swallows and turns away from the crib, then back again. She is indebted to Dante, but he needs her to leave the Pit, at this point. If she leaves, he can’t do anything, not until he finds a loophole – and he won’t, not for a decade or longer. And she can find protection up here, could turn to someone, anyone else – Paimon is in this city, calls Port Lyndon home with his precious little bride.

Neve’s plan is not a safe one, not for her. But someone is going to have to influence this baby to be nothing like his father, to practice restraint where it goes ignored. And someone is going to have to coach him in control, to help him to master his power. Dante’s powers mimic witchcraft, when he walks the earth, or at least they have in the past.

Neve is going to figure out a way to become integral to this boys life. And then she is going to be take care of what is needed.

No soul bond severing necessary.

-

(On the same ward a year later, a dark haired girl is born. Her parents name her Paris, and she is born under a bad moon. She’s too small for her age, born too early, and for the first few hours of her life, she’s kept from her parents. The nurses are scared she will die.

There is one nurse there, watching, who never seems to worry that death is imminent. When she gets a look from her cohort, she offers a smile that holds too many teeth.

“This one has stronger ties to this life than any of you,” she croons, tapping the childs nose. The baby sniffs, and she twists a smirk onto her face. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

John Talbot Westlake III lies awake that night, much to the frustration of his adoring mother. He isn’t making a noise; instead, he stares out the window, at the moon rising in the distance.

The bad moon. That’s what Neve calls it when Janelle asks for her help convincing Talbot to sleep; the newest addition to their staff has proven over and over again that she has a way with him.

At midnight, Talbot sleeps.

At midnight, no one fears Paris will die tonight.)

[lightningfilledsaber]

Double boyfrieng time for @limonnazul's Riot <3

[caveartfair]

Untangling the Symbolism of Art History’s Most Famous Redheads

La Ghirlandata, 1873. Dante Gabriel Rossetti "Botticelli Reimagined" at Victoria & Albert Museum, London

Vincent van Gogh, Pietà (after Delacroix), 1889. Courtesy of the Van Gogh Museum.

The year is 2006, and I am walking down the hall to my locker. The smell of pencil erasers and lukewarm lunch meat permeates the air. I head to homeroom, where I quietly take a seat in the back and open the glossy pages of my history textbook to read up on peanut farms and Jimmy Carter.

“Do you even have a soul?” a kid in my class snickers at me, his friends nudging him and trying to shield their giggles. A rather frail and timid middle schooler, I laugh off the odd question and look back at my book. My classmate continues, “You’re a ginger. There’s no way you have a soul!”

This was my introduction to the “otherness” that surrounds redheads, real and imagined. Throughout history, artists from Sandro Botticelli to Dante Gabriel Rossetti have mined the potent symbolism of red hair to alternately suggest promiscuity, sensuality, deviousness, and—above all—otherness for centuries.

Venus, 1490. Sandro Botticelli "The Botticelli Renaissance" at Gemäldegalerie, Berlin (2015-2016)

Lady Lilith, 1867. Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Henry Treffry Dunn The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Redheads are rare, but why should that make them particularly beguiling or innately prurient? Why did Botticelli choose to give his Venus—the goddess of sex, beauty, and love—long strawberry locks? What possessed Rossetti to chase Alexa Wilding—the woman who modeled for his La Ghirlandata (1873), in addition to other works—down the street to beg her to sit for him? (According to Jacky Colliss Harvey, author of Red: A History of the Redhead, Rossetti was an “absolutely classic example of a man with a thing for redheads, an uncontrollable thing for redheads.”)

“This business of being attracted to the color red is very hardwired into us,” Harvey said. Early humans developed the ability to differentiate between reds, greens, and blues as an evolutionary mechanism to help them (among other things) better forage for ripe, brightly colored fruits in overwhelmingly green forests. “And that’s even before all of the associations with fire, and warmth, and sun, and blood,” Harvey continued. Red is thus a highly visceral color associated with survival, sex, and strong emotion.

Jules Joseph Lefebvre, Mary Magdalene in a Grotto, 1876. Courtesy of the Hermitage Museum.

The New Testament figure Mary Magdalene, long thought to be a reformed prostitute, is one of the earliest and most consistent figures in Western art history to be portrayed with red hair to communicate sinful lustiness. Regardless of whether she is depicted reformed and reading the Bible, as in Piero di Cosimo’s late 15th-century interpretation, or sprawled nude in a cave, as she is seductively portrayed in an 1876 work by Jules Joseph Lefebvre, her flaming red hair is always the focal point. In Caravaggio’s Martha and Mary Magdalene (ca. 1598), one sees the moment of her spiritual transformation from whore to pious devotee; her red hair becomes representative of the past she is leaving behind to follow Christ.

Representations of Mary Magdalene—a woman who simultaneously embodies sin, virtue, lust, and chastity—undoubtedly provoke a certain aesthetic and cultural tension. In many ways, this tension reflects the polarized stigmatization of red hair in society. Angelic or demonic, otherworldly or deeply provincial, red hair communicates extremes. Whether it is interpreted as “good” or “bad” often has to do with two things: gender and class.

Piero di Cosimo, Saint Mary Magdalene, 1490–95. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

Mary Magdalene, The Myrrhbearer , First half 17th century. Francesco Bianchi Buonavita Benjamin Proust Fine Art Limited

The sensuality and exoticism of red hair that is admired in women (Mary Magdalene might be sinful, but at least she is attractive) do little for redheads of the opposite sex. “It is the fact that what works as a standard of female beauty becomes a sort of demerit if it is applied to men,” Harvey said. The trait that makes redheaded women desirable ironically renders redheaded men undesirable. They’re singled out as traitors, thieves, and delinquents—stereotypes that have led to centuries of depictions of despised men with flaming red hair.

Judas Iscariot, the disciple who betrayed Jesus, joins Mary Magdalene in the cast of biblical characters who are frequently painted with red hair. In his case, the color is not idealized or sexualized—it’s a sign of degeneracy. This notion of redheaded men as traitors spawns from anti-Semitic beliefs in medieval Europe, where “Jews were Christ-killers and the abductors of Christian children,” Harvey explains in her book. This prejudice against Jews became a prejudice against red hair. Freckles in medieval Germany were often called Judasdreck (“Judas dirt”), furthering the idea that physical attributes often found in conjunction with red hair signaled distrust.

Joos van Cleve, Altarpiece of the Lamentation of Christ (detail of Judas), ca. 1520–25. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

A sprawling canvas by Anthony van Dyck (a redhead himself), called The Taking of Christ (1618–20), depicts the moment Judas kisses Jesus on the Mount of Olives, identifying him to the Romans who ordered his arrest. This Baroque vision is dynamic and breathy: A sweeping diagonal, created by the throng of bodies lunging toward Jesus, draws the attention to the Savior’s face as Judas, his own visage covered by a mop of red hair, delivers the damning kiss. The traitor’s hair is here indiscernible from his beard; both blend into his similarly tinged skin and robes, putting Judas’s ruddy appearance into central focus.

Another florid Judas appears in Joos van Cleve’s Altarpiece of the Lamentation of Christ (ca. 1520–25) in a rendering of the Last Supper in the bottom panel. His cheekbones and nose are sharp, turned in profile to look at Jesus, whose beard also shows hints of a copper hue. It is not uncommon in the history of art for Jesus to also appear with auburn hair, but his features here are soft and idealized, creating a contrast with Judas’s harsh, wrinkled skin and coarse head of hair. (Paradoxically, on Jesus, red hair was seen as a sign of moral purity; in the Renaissance, red hair was fit for sinners and saints, but no one in between.)

John Everett Millais, Christ in the House of His Parents, 1849–50. Image via Wikimedia Commons.

In the 19th and 20th centuries, modern artists continued to employ the symbolism of red hair. Several figures continued the tradition of casting Jesus as an unapologetic ginger to suggest his otherness and divinity. Vincent van Gogh’s Pietà (After Delacroix) (1889) shows Christ with hair not unlike the artist’s own. The innocent Christ child in Pre-Raphaelite artist John Everett Millais’s Christ in the House of His Parents (1849–50) was famously decried by Charles Dickens as a “wry-necked, blubbering, redheaded boy, in a bed-gown.”

If red hair for Jesus suggests otherworldliness; for Mary, lust; and for Judas, degeneracy, the hair color in Edgar Degas’s and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec’s candid late 19th-century portrayals of Parisian nightlife does a bit of both. Toulouse-Lautrec’s redheads lack the idealized bodies of Lefebvre’s Magdalene and the fictionalized polish of Rossetti’s Ghirlandata. Instead, his works offer gritty glimpses into the sordid realities of Paris’s entertainers and prostitutes.

Edgar Degas, Woman at Her Toilette, 1900–05. Courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Rue des Moulins, 1894. Courtesy of the National Gallery of Art.

Toulouse-Lautrec’s Rue des Moulins (1894) is an oil-on-cardboard sketch that shows two women standing in line. Their stockings are pulled up to their thighs, blouses bunched up in their arms, cheeks rouged. One is blonde and slumped in exhaustion, while the other woman, a mess of vibrant red hair on top of her head, looks resigned. They’re being inspected for syphilis, a monthly requirement of working in a brothel (hence the lack of pants). The unnaturally bright hue found in Toulouse-Lautrec’s work isn’t so much an artistic exaggeration as a faithful depiction of the henna-dyed hair that many prostitutes and performers had—a look that helped them stand out in a brothel or on stage.

Degas’s Woman at Her Toilette (1900–05) similarly takes on the realities of modern, urban life. The intimate view of a naturally red-headed woman drying her hair after a bath is candid, rather than idealized or overly sexual. The bright red hue also shows up in Degas’s famous paintings of ballerinas, who frequently moonlighted as sex workers.

Redheads might always be considered beautiful or barbaric, saintly or sinister. From Queen Elizabeth I to Sansa Stark, the history of red hair in visual culture carries with it tales of prejudice and desire.

from Artsy News

[prolestariwrites]

Time To Go [7]: Devil Boys And Devil Arms

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: M Characters: Nero, Dante, Vergil, Kyrie, Nico, Trish, Morrison Tags: Mystery, Humor, Missing Person, First Time, Family Drama, Family Bonding, Post-Canon Chapter: 7/9 Chapter [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Summary: When Kyrie goes missing, Nero goes on a desperate search to find her. Unfortunately, Dante and Vergil go too. Sparda boys shenanigans, fighting demons, a smattering of family drama, and male bonding (otherwise known as Nero’s worst nightmare). Please check it out below, or you can read on FFNet or AO3. Beta read by @copper-wasp.

Now posted! Chapter 7: Devil Boys And Devil Arms, in which the boys learn the truth about Kyrie's disappearance and decide to suit up... if Nico doesn't kill them first.

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

Dante’s eyes narrow as he watches the screen. It is her, on a grainy security camera, standing on a corner and waiting for the light to change. He recognizes the flower shop behind her, one he passes by in Fortuna on the times he’s headed over there, and he swallows thickly when she glances upwards as if looking at them. The film plays without sound as she checks her phone and lifts it to her ear. Then a van pulls up, the back opening, and Dante’s blood turns cold as he watches a man exit out the back and drags Kyrie inside, her mouth open in a silent scream. The light changes and the van peels away, the back door slamming shut with the force, and Morrison pauses the video.

“It’s not demons at all,” Dante sighs.

“Nope,” Morrison replies. “Just your regular, run-of-the-mill greedy ass humans.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Nero says sharply, glaring at Morrison. “How did you get this?”

Morrison shrugs. “You needed help. I delivered.” Then his mouth curves a bit wryly. “You can just make out the license plate. Easy enough to get an address. You want it?” He nods towards the door. “I brought a car.”

Nero looks at the others, and Dante lets go a slow breath, waiting for the kid to decide. If it is humans, that changes everything—and if he’s being honest, Dante doesn’t know what they should do. Killing demons is one thing; he never was good with humans.

“Let’s go,” Nero says through gritted teeth.

Morrison’s car is an old-fashioned town car, well-loved and well-cared for. Dante climbs in the front as Morrison starts it up, and they pull out of the parking lot with a squeal of the tires. He heads towards Fortuna, the world around them a deep gray as it waits for the sun to start to rise.

“Are you disappointed it isn’t demons, Nero?” Morrison asks.

Nero huffs in the backseat. “We don’t know for sure it’s not demons. Or people working for demons.”

“Nico said that there are plenty of people after Kyrie,” Dante muses. He leans an elbow on the window and taps a finger to his lips thoughtfully. “Might be old Order leftovers after all.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Nero insists. “Kyrie was doing so much good for everyone. No one in the Order blamed her for what happened, and neither did the city. I don’t believe Nico, no one was after her. This has to be demons trying to get to me.”

Dante glances over his shoulder. “I don’t know. I’ve known a lot of shitty people.”

“This is why I don’t care for humans,” Vergil sighs. Dante smiles humorlessly and shakes his head. “What?” Vergil snaps. “At least with demons you know what to expect. Humans can look like one thing and be another. Not worth the trouble.”

“That’s stupid,” Nero mutters. “Kyrie is human. So is Morrison. So am I.”

Vergil snorts. “Not completely.”

“You always like shooting that back at me, don’t you?” growls Nero. Dante rubs his face at the sudden sharpness in his tone; just when the kid was finally calming down and focusing, Vergil gets under his skin again, innocently or not.

“That you’re half-demon?” Vergil challenges. “You are.”

Nero’s hand clenches into a fist. “Quarter. My mother was human.”

“There is more than enough of Sparda’s blood in you,” replies Vergil.

“Well I didn’t ask for that!”

“You say that a lot, you know. It gets old,” Vergil complains, Dante listening with a growing aggravation. “We all know how you came to be.”

“As if I had a choice,” mutters Nero.

“None of us were dealt the life we would have chosen. But unlike you, the rest of us deal with it.”

Nero folds his arms with a pout. “Easy for you to say. You don’t know shit about my life, since you left it.”

Vergil lets out a low growl. “How long will you be punishing me for that? I didn’t know.”

“You say that a lot,” Nero snaps. “It gets old.”

“You—”

“Hey, lay off,” Dante says gruffly.

Nero’s mouth twists into a smile. “Yeah, lay off.”

Dante turns around from the front seat and narrows his eyes. “Not him. You. You need to get over all this shit.”

“What?” Nero gapes.

He points his finger at Nero, trying to keep his temper in check. “Stop blaming Vergil for everything. He didn’t know about you. And yeah he’s a pain in the ass and a prick and will probably end up fucking everything up—”

“Thanks,” Vergil mutters.

“—but he didn’t. Fucking. Know.” Dante leans his arm over the back of the seat and Nero shrinks back. “But he knows now. We both do. And you don’t give me half the shit you give him. So lay off.”

Nero doesn’t respond to the chastisement, turning to look out the window with a scowl. Vergil is as seemingly nonplussed as ever, which also annoys him. “And you’re such an asshat,” Dante sighs. “Kid is scared, anyone can see that. He loves Kyrie and she’s missing. He just watched her get taken away, and that hurts like hell. At least pretend you care.”

“I know he loves her. He says it every two minutes.” Vergil leans forward, looking Dante straight in the eye. “I’m sick of being blamed for every problem he has. Nero needs to grow up.”

“He has grown up! You’d see that if you’d open your damn eyes,” counters Dante. “He’s got kids at home and a family and it’s a fuck ton more than either you or I have. And he did it on his own.”

“He’s not the only one who has been on his own,” argues Vergil.

Anger swells inside Dante, his fingers digging into the leather seat. “We were both on our own.”

“It made us stronger,” Vergil states matter-of-factly.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t change anything?” Dante practically shouts. “If you could go back, you would have still wanted to be alone?”

Vergil rolls his eyes. “What a moronic question. We can’t go back, so what is the point of asking?”

“The point is that you still haven’t learned a damn thing.”

“Okay, enough,” Nero says. He puts his hand out as if to keep the two apart, the change in him surprising Dante. His expression is almost pleading, his voice tight. “You guys have done nothing but argue since we started. Can you just… just can it already?” His lips press together into a thin line. “We gotta get to Kyrie. And…” Nero clears his throat. “I’m sorry for snapping at you both. I really am. We gotta do this together, and we can’t be fighting.”

There is a long silence, and once again Dante finds himself trying to figure out what to say; but again, before he can think of something, Vergil says, “We haven’t fought the whole time. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Yeah,” Dante laughs. “And besides, we’re fighting about you. You should be happy we care enough.”

Nero glances between them incredulously. “You’re both so fucked up.”

The brothers both start to laugh, and Dante laughs even harder when he sees Nero’s confused look. “Yeah, but aren’t families supposed to be fucked up?”

“Mine isn’t,” Morrison says.

Dante groans and slides down a bit in his seat, stretching as best as he can. “Pipe down and drive,” he mumbles, smiling when Vergil snorts behind him.

━━━━━━━✧━━━━━━━

They are a few miles from Fortuna when Dante says, “Let’s go to Red Grave City first. We can load up at the shop.”

Morrison takes the next exit and weaves through the early morning streets, mostly empty as the sun is just rising. Nero climbs out of the car and follows in last, thinking about how he had rushed in there maybe twelve hours before, frantic to find Kyrie. It will be almost twenty-four hours since whoever those guys are had taken her, and he can still hear her voice, soft and insistent and afraid on the phone.

“Let’s go,” Dante says, leading them inside.

Nero is surprised to find Nico there, half-dozing on the couch. She jumps up when Dante calls over, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as he strides over. “What about the kids?”

“They’re fine, don’t worry.” She glances over her shoulder where Dante and Vergil move around the shop, pulling items from the wall and from inside various furniture. “I figured you’d end up here, so I took a cab over and brought Red Queen. And I wanted to get the latest, see if I could help.”

“Thanks, but you should go home and get some sleep,” Nero says gruffly.

He turns to walk away but Nico grabs his arm. “No way! How am I supposed to sleep when Kyrie is missing?” Nero pauses when he hears the slight catch in her voice. “I care about her too. Do you know where she is yet? You have to, if you’re here, right?”

“Morrison has a lead,” he sighs. “He thinks it’s humans, but just in case, we’re gearing up.”

Nico nods. “I can drive.”

“Actually…” Nero rubs the back of his neck, his expression sheepish. “We had some trouble with the van.”

“Trouble?” Nico’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “What trouble?”

“Nothing you can’t fix!” He tries to sound cheery as he claps her on the arm. But his fatigue makes his nerves feel thin, and when Nico doesn’t relent he sighs. “The van is… kind of wrecked.”

“Wrecked!” she shouts. “What about my things? My work? What did you do?”

“They’re fine, I promise!” He puts up his hands as Nico starts to advance on him. “We got attacked by some demons and had to get out of there fast, and something must have blown—”

“Where is the van now?” she growls.

Nero gives a little shrug. “We left it on the highway. I’ll get it towed, don’t worry.”

Nico sighs loudly. “It’s fine. When you’re done you can run me up there, and I should be able to figure it out and fix it. Don’t want no tow truck driver poking through my stuff anyway.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if you’re gonna be able to fix it that easy. I kinda got mad and…” He drops his head and moans, “I fucked up, okay? Seems to be what I do best.”

Nico grinds her teeth as she looks at him furiously, before finally rolling her eyes. She puts her hands on her hips and snaps, “Stop being such a pussy. Man up and get Kyrie back.” Then she pauses, sucking in a sharp breath, before saying quietly, “We need her.”

He glances up to catch Nico’s lip trembling slightly, which is more alarming than he wants to admit. “Keep it together,” he mumbles, and Nico laughs.

“So if I’m not driving, what can I do?” she asks. Before she can answer, she looks over Nero’s shoulder, then gasps and pushes him out of the way. “Wait! What are you doing with those?”

Nero turns to see Vergil and Dante carrying armfuls of weapons, dropping them unceremoniously on the floor. “What the hell?” Nico cries. She crouches down on the ground, glaring up at the two men viciously. “You can’t treat these weapons like this!”

“Most of them used to be demons,” replies Dante as he scratches his head. “Pretty indestructible.”

“Ugh, you don’t know anything,” she scoffs. Nero folds his arms as she starts sorting through the Devil Arms, amused by her exasperation. “These are more than works of art—they’re living weapons! You can’t sling ‘em around like a sack of potatoes!”

Nero snorts as Dante and Vergil exchange a look. “We need to go kick some ass,” Dante says in explanation.

She shoots a sharp stare at them both. “I’ll kick your ass if you don’t pipe down for a minute while I figure this out.”

Nico returns to her sorting, while Dante grumbles. “She used to be a fan of mine, you know,” he says to Vergil.

Vergil looks decidedly unimpressed. “Hard to believe that. The girl obviously knows what she’s talking about.” Nero spies how he watches Nico, his lips pressing together as he sees an idea that could only mean trouble sparking behind Vergil’s eyes. “I’ve been saying for months that I should have these items, not Dante. Don’t you agree? Nico, wasn’t it?”

Nero is about to object when Nico stands, hands on her hips. “Neither of you deserve this stuff. These should be in a museum or something.” Vergil scowls at her, but Nico ignores him and continues, “But none of this is gonna do you any good anyway. You can’t fight humans with this stuff. It’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Maybe we want a bloodbath,” Vergil argues.

“We don’t want a bloodbath,” says Dante.

“I wouldn’t mind a bloodbath,” replies Vergil with a shrug.

“Well I know you wouldn’t but—”

“Okay, okay,” Nero interrupts. “Nico, what do we do then?”

She considers a moment before giving him a sideways glance. “You boys are pretty… big. Just use your fists.”

Vergil frowns deeply at the idea, but Dante grins and rubs his hands together. “Yeah, now we’re talking! Get a little one-two action going on.” He starts to hop from one foot to the other, pretending to jab at Vergil’s arm, bobbing and weaving like a boxer. “Kick some ass the old fashioned way.”

Nero hides a chuckle as Morrison joins them. “Got the address,” he says, holding up his little notepad. “You boys ready?”

“Who is it?” Nero asks.

Morrison flips it open. “Traced the plate to an owner, last known address just outside of Fortuna.” He nods to Nico. “Looks like your girl was on the money.”

Nico looks smug but Nero feels a surge of anger. Kyrie had been there the whole time, as he was running from city to city chasing after nothing? “What’s the name?” he demands.

“Mammon,” Morrison says.

“Mammon?” Nico tilts her head. “I know that name.” Nero’s brows go up as he watches her think. “I read it in my asshole old man’s stuff.”

“One of the Order?” Nero growls.

Slowly she shakes her head. “No. Mammon was a demon in his research.”

Nico gives him a pained look, and Nero feels his blood go cold. “Looks like we’re gonna need those Devil Arms after all,” he says.