#dante has…. no memory of this

[strengthofmayhem]

i do have a prototype “dante’s daughter” character in my head for the sheer self indulgent fun of it . and a plot to go with this character . but i need to finish the anime bc her and patty would be the primary character relationship (besides oc and dante)

[storytellering]

Now all I have left are effigies

[fisheito]

(3) remaining

[player-1]

Oh boy, I sure can't wait for Intervallo 7.5, where the bus goes on yet another wacky roadtrip while the gang goes to Hong Lu's home district and learn about his extremely complex family dynamic and the many many references to the original novel, it's multiple remakes, and/or the series adaptation.

The next Walpurgis is most likely the Safety Team with Netzach as the next Announcer; and the next LobCorp IDs might connect to Abnormalities of denial, blissful ignorance, or the constricting force of family (Queen of Hatred, Queen Bee, Void Dream).

Even if the Sinners adjust to the fact that one of their members is a Second Kindred Bloodfiend, everyone keeps eyeing Outis just in case she tries to kill Don mentally or physically. She's still salty about the "betrayal" of having a definite threat in their ranks and were possibly waiting to backstab them at any moment (...Did something happen with Eurylochus, Outis?).

And even if she's also adjusting to a modernish life without the fanatic belief in Fixers, Don Sancho Quixote the Second reads them the riot act on their multiple attempts to prove she's a "real vampire" and committing elder abuse: shining light in her eyes or putting her in direct sunlight, putting garlic in her food, Dead Butterfly's coffin and Hundred Sins cross mace in her face cause Christian symbol or possible vamp bed, chasing her with a water bottle or spray bottle, so much water, so much water...

[mariyekos]

Is there any canon material stating when Sparda left/disappeared? Including even something vague, like "he must have left after the twins were 5 and before they turned 8." Or do we just know he left sometime after the boys were born but before the fire?

[iced-flower-pot]

Have you never stood to regard our home from its farthest corner?

Would you really want our home to be without it?

💖

[stars-may-cry]

yknow i say I don't remember enough of my elementary school experience of my dad playing DMC 4 to be able to say it made me like Nero as I do now, but SOMETHING had to have been done to my brain chemistry because. what the fuck

[thealatvs]

smiles

tldr dante’s greatest enemy has always been himself

[a-passing-storm]

I just remembered the Outer Wilds soundtrack and I'm going to cry...

[meowiarty426]

It’s interesting that with other characters and their bad ends - I’m fine with them. Nicola going yandere? Absolutely fine. Yang bad ends? Go off, king.

But after Orloks bad end? I just can’t stand Dante and I don’t know why. There was just something about it that completely made me look and Dante and just… wanna punch him.

It’s amazing that Piofiore officially created a bad end that just made me despise a love interest and made me go “I want to punt you into a new stratosphere.”

Is it because of what he does to both Orlok and Liliana? Maybe. Is it because he seems to hold this “I’m better than them” about the other mafias and then just heel face turn to torturing Orlok? Maybe. I have no clue. I just don’t like him. He’s a 4/10 and it’s purely his appearance.

With Yang, he doesn’t hide the fact he’s trash. And I love that. He’s my favorite Piofiore LI. You know what you’re getting into, and I’m dumpster diving for this trash.

[axolotlclown]

about to have a breakdown and delete all of my messages ever

[yzzart]

⋆˙⟡ BOYFRIEND!DANTE ── HEADCANONS!

── content warnings: F!reader, mention of anime, Dante being needy, fluff, cute and light content and part two is here!

── word count: 653!

⭑.ᐟ Dante is always, ALWAYS, in contact with you and it doesn't matter where or when. — This is not an exaggeration, or a complaint, never. — Whether through physical touches or messages, SMS, — that man only uses his damn cell phone because of you and even though it's risky — he never lets you keep in contact.

“thinking about you right now ;)” “Dante, you only left about 5 minutes ago…?” “painful, isn’t it? do you believe i have an amazing joke ready? i need to tell you when i get back.”

⭑.ᐟ The demon hunter loves to snuggle up to you, to cling to you; being unable, and in his words, impossible, not to be close to you. — Well, that's his biggest weakness. — Dante always kept his hands around you, usually on your waist and caressing the region. — Like holding your hand, caressing your face and massaging your thigh.

⭑.ᐟ He loves receiving your attention, especially when he is between your boobs and receiving caresses, which make him fall asleep instantly. — you know this very well — However, there was one night, after a long and unbearable killing against beings from the underworld, Dante ended up falling asleep during one of the night conversations, which was your routine, and ended up drooling on your shirt.

⤷ The scene was…naive, also pitiful; your boyfriend was tired, he needed rest more than anything else. — And you, wanting to make him comfortable and pleasant, tried to get out of the position, which was to be underneath him, but an extremely sleepy and heavy Dante prevented your action and mumbled inaudible words — asking you to stay there, with him — and even without understanding, you obeyed.

⭑.ᐟ DDR — DanceDance Revolucion nights? This has become a routine worthy of you and Dante. — Every night, no matter what time it is, and even knowing that you have things to do the next day, this gentle game becomes a competition; Dante, without even caring who is in front, doesn't miss the chance to have fun with his girl.

"Come on, ma'am! Make me impressed, go, go!" + “It was with that swagger that you won me over, right, you smart little girl?” + “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game?”

“Shut your pretty mouth, big boy.”

⭑.ᐟ You are the only person, the only thing that can breathe, that can touch or question his necklace. — There is no discussion about that. — Dante trusts you, until his last breath, even though he has reason to distrust everyone and everything, he would never leave or abandon his loyalty and trust in you. — Out of fear, and respect and common sense, you don't dare to touch it on some occasions and Dante realizes this, he finds it funny, cute, pure; feeling loved and so cared for by you.

⤷ “There’s not a day, not a single day, that the memory of the day she gave me that necklace doesn’t cross my mind.” — Dante mentioned his mother, able to feel a small and unbearable burning in his eyes; he sighed, arranged you in his lap, directing a compassionate look in your direction as your fingers pass through the cord, without touching the amulet. — “And every day, i’m sure she would adore you.”

⭑.ᐟ Dante knows how to be a knight with you, and he really does. — Last piece of pizza in the box? He makes a point of leaving it for you, and that's a high-class knightly role in his eyes. — Even living such a complicated life, working with something so violent and filthy, he can't help but indulge his girl in a few whims.

⤷ Little writings on small pieces of old newspaper, which he left in his pants or jacket pocket, telling some joke or unfunny pick-up line and decorations are typical of Dante. — Teaching you to play pool and then beating him and your prize are moments of grabbing? Oh, Dante is a lucky boy.

[moonsongs-medicine-den]

and then we have it back for a brief, shining moment in the latter half of S2, but they all have changed so much that its no longer the same. just a reminder that they will never be able to have that again.

guard trio is everything to me soooo evil how it only physically exists in the second half of s1

it haunts the three's narrative

[muqingslover]

[ This is different than what I usually post but I had to get this out of my system. The new DMC show brought back so many memories and idc what the haters say it's PEAK.

Anyway, to the DMC lovers out there, please accept this humble offering ]

Being in a relationship with Dante. | some NSFW included.

⊹— He may be the best demon hunter but in a relationship? He's the BIGGEST loser. Dante is always throwing some lame pick-up line your way and believe me when I say he will not give up until one sticks. (Spoiler warning: The fact that it actually works only makes him want to do it again)

—⊹ Dating Dante is not for the faint hearted. You have to be ready for all kinds of beyond ridiculous situations and have a godly amount of adaptability.

⊹— He will ALWAYS answer the phone for you. Literally. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where he is he will pick up the second he sees your name on the screen.

"Babe? Oh yeah! I'm totally still up for dinner! By the way, can you add those pieces of chocolate again to— *Approaching yelling in the background* Just a sec! *Crashing sounds and gunshots* Whew, okay, anyway like I was saying—"

—⊹ Oh yeah, he loooooves using pet names and silly nicknames. His personal favorites are "Babe" and "My little luck charm".

⊹— He likes to give you "traditional" dating gifts because that's what he always saw others do so when he shows up with a big ass teddy bear and a box of chocolates (which by the way he definitely ate some before giving it to you) please tell him you love it.

—⊹ Bro is so competitive. Dante is NOT letting you win in card games or any other board games because he wants to show off his skills to you. Though, if you get genuinely upset he would feel bad and invite you to play video games with him because he fails miserably at them every time.

⊹— His hands grab your ass every time you hug him. Not even in a sexual way he just can't help it and he never fails to throw a "nice ass" right after.

—⊹ Missing jewelry, hat or belt from your closet? He's the culprit. This guy will wear anything as long as he believes he looks good in it. I pray for you if you guys are a similar size because then you will have full clothing pieces missing.

⊹— He is THE hype man. Dante kisses the ground you walk on and he supports your rights and rights (because you could never do any wrong ;)).

—⊹ Dante's favorite thing is to show you off in every opportunity he gets. And if he doesn't have the opportunity then he'll just do it anyway. He is constantly yapping about how incredibly hot his partner is, how good your cooking is, how cute you look when you're focused and the way you smell so damn good all the time like, man! You're a freaking gift from the gods! (someone save poor Lady she can't bear to listen to him any more)

⊹— Please also hype him back in return! He has the worst praise kink case I've ever seen. Each time he's praised he just doesn't know what to do with himself and despite the initial cocky attitude he is easy to overwhelm if you don't stop. The first time you praised him while patting his head or scratching his chin he got a hard-on and had to rush out with a poor excuse before you noticed it.

—⊹ There is nothing romantic about sharing a bed with him. It's an absolute nightmare. First of all, this guy is physically incapable of sleeping with his clothes on. He just can't do it. Dante used to sleep butt ass naked but then you convinced him to at least wear boxers. Next on the list of problems is the snoring— Like, it's so loud you thought there was a truck engine next to you instead of your boyfriend. Not to mention the fact he takes up all space on the bed and moves around SO MUCH while he's asleep.

Please invest in separate beds before you kill him.

⊹— Absolutely hates morning. Getting him out of bed is the hardest thing to do and that's saying a lot with the life you two lead. He will keep you trapped in bed with him by wrapping his strong arms around your waist only to when you get up he sloooowly slides off the mattress and onto floor like a worm hanging to you.

—⊹ Surprisingly, or not, very insecure. This man is not controlling in any way though, he is just very worried that he won't be able to protect you if something was to happen or that you will realize you made a mistake by being with him.

⊹— His favorite thing is to make you smile. I know a lot of people paint him as stupid but I genuinely think he just acts silly as a defense mechanism. It's a mask. With you, though? He will purposely act like a dork because he knows it makes you smile.

—⊹ To add to that, Dante does everything he can to keep your spirits up; Someone hurt your feelings? No need to fret, he’s already planning their downfall. Feeling under the weather? tickle monster time! Migraine? He is closing the curtains and cuddling you until it gets better!

⊹— The filter between his brain and mouth is naturally bad but with you, who he is truly comfortable with, it's just INEXISTENT. This may range from random, useless bullshit to out of pocket comments that should definitely not be said out loud.

—⊹ Physical contact is his thing. I mean, he NEEDS it and can be very high maintenance about it. Having his hands on you is not enough for Dante he has to be as close as physically possible and you need to be giving him some kind of attention in return.

⊹— Hugging you from behind when you're cooking, snuggling while on the couch together, keeping a firm arm hooked around your waist while outside, constantly nuzzling his nose on your hair, kissing your neck at every chance he gets, pulling you into his lap as if it's his second nature ECT.

—⊹ Did I mention he adores your hair? In particular long hair because then he can fidget with it by twirling it around his finger or by being a dork and putting it between his lips and nose to make a mustache.

⊹— Your lips are like a drug to him. He will be saying "okay, okay I REALLY gotta bail now" and then stare at you for a solid two seconds then steal another kiss and another and another....oops, he's 30 minutes late already.

—⊹ Dante is a biter. God help you when you give him cuteness aggression (which is basically always) because he will chew on you like candy. Your skin is often red from teeth marks and he doesn't feel sorry about it at all.

⊹— Cannot cook to save his life but absolutely loves your food. Especially if you're good at baking! Man's scarfing down those sweet treats like it's his last meal on earth.

—⊹ He sings while he's showering and holds the bottle of shampoo to you like a microphone so you'll join him. Oh and yes, he is VERY tone-deaf.

⊹— No matter how many times he sees you naked he never gets tired of that blessed sight. He flirts with you like it's the first time he's seeing you and those naughty eyes speak for themselves.

—⊹ He has a high libido, especially in the beginning of the relationship where he's even more excitable than usual. Sex can be very clumsy and messy with him, but that's just what makes it so him.

⊹— If you're a breasty lady, he is reaaaaaally into you using your boobs to get him off. Dante also enjoys having your lips around his cock more than words could describe and a quickie in dark, tight spaces is part of the package with him.

—⊹ Bondage is a guilty pleasure of his. Dante prefers to be the one restrained and left at your mercy instead of the other way around because it's just very hot to him when you take control. You're also the only one he would trust to be this vulnerable with.

⊹— This guy is always late for EVERYTHING, but he shows up without a fail in the end. No matter how battered or tired he might be, not even if he was run over by a truck, he will definitely be there.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How to accidentally seduce your mission

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: You’re an underqualified, overworked nobody who got blackmailed into seducing the legendary demon hunter Dante Sparda. Problem is—you forgot what he looks like. Now you’re sitting in a bar, tipsy, accidentally spilling your entire top-secret mission to a mysterious (and annoyingly hot) stranger... who may or may not be the guy you’re supposed to trap. Spoiler: He is. And he’s loving every second of it.

Warnings: reader is super clumsy and absent-minded in this lol, lot of fluff + fun, this is a comfort fic for all the trauma I normally dump on y'all hehe, drunk reader ENJOY

This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it.

You, out of all people, responsible for luring none other than Dante Sparda into a flytrap?

You, a random girl from across the street who simply opened the door at the wrong time. You, who can’t even survive a single second in Call of Duty’s easy mode, who always sucked at doing sports. Oh, you’ll be so dead after this.

But you have no other choice.

“It’s following my instruction or losing your friends and family – you decide.”

You groan out loud, your eyes darting around the worn-down bar without a real aim. To be honest, you have to be the worst candidate for an undercover mission in a world you fail to understand. But apparently, that’s what makes you the perfect fit. Maybe this is what they’re searching for – an innocent girl who is sick of working a full-time job and doesn’t want to lose her relatives yet.

Who is Danta Sparda even? A demon hunter, as it seems – not like you already caught on the principle of “demons” living in this world. A pretty strong man.

And obviously, a wanted man as well.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

A grin spreads across your face almost instantly when the nice lady from behind the bar sets down a glass of something promising in front of your eyes. Oh, you haven’t been out drinking for ages. Just a little sip of alcohol would ease your nerve for sure.

“And don’t you dare to touch a single drop of alcohol.”

If it wasn’t for that shitty man who nuked all the fun out of this forced mission.

“I do, but I still need to pass I guess”, you mumble into your hands.

What a shitty way to end the day. Can this Dante guy finally show up so that you can distract him until the others arrive?

Now that you think of it…do you even know how that man looks?

“Shit shit shit”, you hiss to yourself, frantically pulling out your phone.

Maybe they already showed you but you didn’t care enough to listen. Or maybe they forgot as well…Right?

No, there’s no way in hell they did.

“I’ll just leave this here for you, I think you need it girl.”

Did they send it to you? Show it? Print it out? Your stomach twists uncomfortably while you search through each and every cat pic.

“I don’t even know how he looks…”

You don’t even realize that your mouth starts sipping on what appears like your last straw on its own, taking in the sweet but burning sensation of what tastes like pure heaven at the moment.

It’s not a secret to anyone that your head is lost in the clouds. Fuck, you even told that guy when he started threatening you that he’s the one who makes a big mistake with recruiting you to seduce a random guy at a bar. But your family and friends rely on you. What if they get killed because you didn’t care to listen to what that jerk said to you?

“Get yourself together, (y/n).”

Your thumb fumbles across the screen as you scroll past endless folders named things like “catbuttz2024,” “RENT RECEIPTS??,” and “do not open 3am.”

 Nothing. Absolutely nothing about Dante Sparda. No file. No profile. No creepy black-and-white security footage that the jerk promised would be “burned into your memory.” Ha. What memory?

You squint, tapping your gallery open again, eyes barely holding focus as the images begin to blur slightly. Okay. That might be the drink kicking in. Just one sip. One. Maybe two. And a half. But it was sweet, and you earned it by still being alive.

“Excuse me,” you wave lazily to the bartender, “can I get another one of those soul-healing, throat-burning miracle potions?”

The bartender raises an eyebrow, gives you that “really?” look, but still turns and begins mixing. Probably out of pity or morbid curiosity - you’re not sure anymore.

You sigh, dramatically, slouching against the bar with your phone resting on the counter like it betrayed you. Because it did. Because now there’s no way you’ll know who Dante Sparda is unless he conveniently walks in with a neon sign taped to his back that says “HI, I’M THE GUY YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SEDUCE OR STALL OR SACRIFICE, WHO EVEN KNOWS.”

Your drink arrives with a thud, the kind that feels final. You toast it to no one.

“To being criminally underqualified and too sober for this shit,” you mutter, then sip again.

 It burns less this time - or maybe you just care less.

Your head starts to feel fuzzy around the edges, thoughts floating out of reach like balloons slipping into the sky. You remember vaguely that Dante is supposed to be hot. Or dangerous. Or both. Or maybe just grumpy. Or a silver-haired guy with a blindfold. Is that the right franchise? Did your mind stop working when someone mentioned that he’s hot?

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, staring at a badly lit image that might be a shirtless man with a sword… or a cosplay from your cousin’s Facebook.

“This is useless. I might as well just ask every man in here if he’s secretly the spawn of hell.”

“That’s one way to start a conversation.”

You blink.

That wasn’t your thought. That was out loud. That was a voice. A man’s voice. Low. Smooth. Kinda cocky. You freeze mid-sip, your tongue still somewhere in your drink, and shift your eyes without turning your head.

There’s a man sitting next to you. A real man, apparently.

He wasn’t there a minute ago. Or maybe he was and your drink already declared war on your perception of time and space. Either way, he’s here now, and you can feel the heat of him like he carries his own gravitational pull. Red coat. Glove-stripped fingers wrapped lazily around a glass. That hair – silver, tousled, annoyingly perfect. His legs are spread too comfortably, like he owns not just the bar stool but the air around it. Smirking.

You swallow too loudly. The drink goes down like regret.

“Oh,” you mumble, blinking once. Twice.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, with just enough amusement to make your stomach do a flip.

“You look a little lost.”

You give him a wobbly smile, the kind of smile people wear when they’re trying very hard to seem like they’ve got their life together and totally didn’t just toast to their own failure.

“I’m not lost. I’m just… situationally misplaced.”

He chuckles. Of course he does. Of course the man with the confident sprawl, good hair, and unfair cheekbones has a laugh like sin on vacation.

You frown. Did he only come here to make fun of you?

"Are you judging me?" you ask, more suspicious than you probably have the right to be, considering you’ve just referred to yourself as ‘situationally misplaced’ like that means something.

“I’m just sitting here. You’re the one muttering about hellspawn and seduction strategies.”

You blink.

You did say that out loud.

Fuck.

“No, no, no,” you whisper, pressing the cold glass to your cheek in full-body regret.

 “This is so not how undercover operations are supposed to go. I think I skipped the lesson on ‘keeping your damn mouth shut.’”

He lifts a brow.

“Undercover?”

You groan, slumping against the bar dramatically, like gravity itself is just done with your existence.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I literally opened the door to borrow eggs or something and now I'm supposed to trap a demon hunter. Like, what does that even mean?”

You glance at him, wide-eyed, glassy, and very much over it.

“Do you know what it means to trap a demon hunter? Because I sure as hell don’t. They gave me no instructions! Just this vague ‘seduce him, stall him, distract him’ crap. I work in customer service. My skill set involves apologizing to Karens and fake smiling until my soul escapes my body.”

His lips twitch.

“Rough gig.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you reply with a defeated laugh, waving a hand as though physically pushing away your life.

“Apparently the guy I’m supposed to trap is named Dante Sparda or something. He’s hot. Or terrifying. Or hot and terrifying. I don’t know. No one sent me his photo. And now I’m sitting here trying to Google his ass while looking like I’m filming a low-budget espionage porno.”

You jab your thumb at your phone like it personally offended you.

“And I keep getting fan art and cosplay! Look at this. Look! This guy could be Dante. Or Gojo. Or someone's edgy OC from Tumblr.”

The man next to you peers at the screen.

“Hmm. Tough call.”

“Right?”

You nod, a little too fast.

“Like, is that a demon hunter or a K-pop idol with a sword fetish?”

You sigh again. Loudly.

“I swear, if I ever meet this Dante guy, I’m gonna tell him straight to his beautiful demonic face that this mission was BULLSHIT. I’ll be like: ‘Sir, I am unqualified. I get anxiety ordering pizza. Please just fake your death and let me go home.’”

He takes a sip of his drink, watching you with thinly veiled amusement.

“And you’re sure you’ve never seen him before?”

“NOPE,” you declare, far too proudly.

“Could walk straight past him on the street and not even blink. Unless he sparkled. Does he sparkle? Is that a thing with demon hunters? Ugh, what am I saying? Of course he doesn’t sparkle. He probably broods. That’s like, their thing.”

He hums, as if seriously considering this.

“So if, hypothetically, he were already here… what would you do?”

You laugh - bitter, tipsy, tired of it all.

“Cry, probably.”

You turn to look at him now, fully. He’s watching you with that same smile, like he’s in on a joke you’re too drunk to understand. Like he’s humoring you.

And it suddenly hits you like a piano from a cartoon sky.

“…Wait,” you whisper, sitting up straighter.

“Why are you asking all these questions?”

“Well-“

“I know it”, you interrupt him, pointing your index finger almost through his eye.

“You know that guy, right? You know exactly who I’m talking about.

“Me, knowing Dante Sparda?”

The stranger shrugs oh too smoothly.

“Me, knowing Dante Sparda?” the stranger says with a smirk, and you narrow your eyes because he’s got that smug tone, the one that says I absolutely know and I’m enjoying your idiocy far too much.

“I might be able to show you,” he adds, tilting his head like he’s offering you directions to a taco truck and not your entire mission objective.

You wobble upright on the barstool, heroic in your tipsiness, point a finger at him that drifts a few inches to the left of his actual face.

“You’re shady,” you declare.

“And hot. Shady-hot. Like a morally ambiguous lifeguard.”

“Is that a yes?” he asks, already standing, already knowing your answer, because you’re far too drunk to play hard to get with answers or sobriety.

You nod, nearly falling off the stool in the process, and mumble something about snacks and not wanting to be murdered unless there’s at least a playlist. You make it precisely five steps outside the bar before your knees betray yo, and you half-crumple into him like a fainting goat. Was it a good idea to gulp down two cocktails in like an hour after not drinking for quite some time? Maybe not.

“Okay,” you mutter into his arm, “the sidewalk is aggressively tilting.”

“You’re drunk, sweetheart.”

“You’re observant,” you reply, clinging to him like he’s your emotional support lamppost.

“New plan: We go to my place. You clearly can’t walk, and I’m not carrying your dramatic ass all over town,” the stranger suggests visibly amused while literally dragging you across the sidewalk.

“Rude,” you mumble, but you lean into him anyway, because he’s warm and smells like leather and trouble and something vaguely like cinnamon toast.

You arrive at his place and immediately in what feels like a heartbeat – or maybe it only does because you make yourself heavier on purpose to that he carries you all the way.

 “Wow, I expected more… blood,” you comment before faceplanting into his bed and yelling into the mattress, “I claim this land in the name of poor life choices.”

He kicks off his boots, chuckling, and when he settles into bed next to you - fully clothed, respectful, infuriatingly smug - you let out a contented sigh like this is somehow a spa.

“You’re suspiciously nice,” you mumble, voice muffled by the pillow.

“What are you, the demon hunter with a heart of gold?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lies there, arm behind his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like he’s waiting for a punchline.

You’re lying on your side now, facing him, and something about the way the light hits his face, or the way his hair falls, silver and wild like it just stepped out of an anime, you start to squint. Not because your vision is blurry (though it is) but because your brain is trying to connect dots it forgot were even dots. Somewhere, you’ve seen this face before not long ago.

“Hey…” you mumble.

“Yeah?”

You squint harder. There’s something nagging at the edge of your mind. Like a memory. Or a pizza topping you forgot to finish.

“Have we… met?”

He laughs softly.

“Not exactly.”

“No, no, not like…I’ve seen you somewhere,” you insist, propping yourself up slightly with all the grace of a sleepy gremlin.

“You look like... like someone I was warned about.”

“Oh yeah?” he repeats, still playing along, smiling like a cat watching a turtle slowly realize it's being stalked.

You blink at him. Hard. And then - click.

One, slow, drunken brain cell trips over a wire and launches a dusty memory from the back of your skull: someone shoving a photo in your face during a chaotic mission briefing, mid-pizza bite, yelling something about “That’s Dante! If you see him, don’t piss him off unless you’ve got a death wish! He’s your target. Your mission is to seduce him and we’ll do the rest, got it?”

Your mouth drops open in slow, dawning horror.

“I have seen you before,” you whisper.

“Someone showed me your picture. I was eating pizza and not paying attention but I saw you.”

“Oh?” he coos, smirking.

“I saw your stupid handsome face!” you moan, smacking your own forehead in sheer drunk disbelief.

 “I literally got briefed on you while covered in cheese grease and now I’ve been sitting here like, ‘Who’s this sexy stranger?’ YOU’RE THE MISSION!”

Dante's full-on laughing now, his shoulders shaking, absolutely no shame.

“Took you long enough, sweetheart. But hey, did you call me sexy?”

You groan and collapse back onto the bed, face-down.

“I hate this. I hate my memory. I hate pizza. And I hate you.”

“You don’t hate pizza.”

You lift one finger into the air without looking at him.

“I hate it temporarily. Out of shame.”

You hear him shift closer, feel the bed dip just slightly, and then he’s pulling the blanket over you, absurdly gentle for someone with literal demon blood, for someone who get hunted.

“Still,” he murmurs, voice low and warm in the hush of the room, “you came a long way. You found me. Sort of.”

You peek up at him from the pillow.

“Accidentally. While drunk.”

“A win’s a win.”

You snort, half-laughing, half-exhausted, your head starting to spin in the good way now - the warm way, the safe way. And even though he���s the guy you were supposed to track down like a trained agent, even though this whole night’s been a blur of chaos and embarrassment, somehow you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“You’re lucky I’m too tired to yell at you properly. And that I just want to rest here a lil’ longer,” you mumble.

“Lucky me.”

A pause.

Then you add, voice slurring slightly, “...You’re still shady-hot.”

And as your eyes drift closed, you hear him chuckle one last time.

“Sleep, rookie. You’ve earned it.”

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[somnoir]

Children of Diana - Part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Diana had not intended to reveal the existence of her children so soon. But thankfully, Daniel and Dante seemed to agree that it would not be too troublesome for her colleagues to know of them.

She is grateful, at least, that no one suspects Diana Prince to be a mother of three. Instead, the world knows only that Wonder Woman has taken on two young male apprentices. The distinction, while subtle, grants her a measure of control over the narrative. It is, admittedly, a confusing time for some—especially her fellow heroes.

As expected, Batman is the first to approach her.

“You have partners?” he asks, his tone softer than usual, lacking the usual gruffness.

Diana smiles, tilting her head. “Yes. Though from what I understand, they are younger than your Robin.” She pauses, recalling the bright, determined child who first wore the mantle. “The older one is close in age to when Robin first came to be.”

Batman nods, understanding. “Do you require any assistance or advice on the matter? I am willing to offer guidance on mentoring young vigilantes. Though I must admit, I will be lacking in the powers department.”

Diana appreciates the offer. Even she struggles to fully anticipate the depths of Dante and Daniel’s abilities—so fluid, so unbound by the laws she has known. But she appreciates the helping hand nonetheless.

“Thank you, Batman.” She grins. His identity remains elusive, but she respects his privacy. More than ever, now that she has children of her own, she understands why he chooses to remain an enigma when so many of their colleagues have unmasked.

“It’s no problem.” He shakes his head, his cape shifting slightly with the motion. “You may bring them to the Watchtower at some point. Preferably once they’ve received enough training.”

Diana arches a brow, smirking. “The same way you brought Robin?”

Because, of course, Robin had not been formally introduced. The boy had snuck in, startling many before being caught by Kal—moments before he nearly ambushed his own mentor.

Batman grunts, displeased yet faintly amused by the memory. “Hopefully not.”

“I will try,” Diana laughs.

She eventually finds herself back home, where Dante and Daniel are suffering as per usual, trying to wrangle their adventurous infant of a sister to not float out the window. Like usual.

Diana steps into the room just in time to hear the chaos unfolding.

“Hi, Di!” Danny greets, far too cheerfully for someone currently wrangling a two-year-old with the strength and determination of a seasoned warrior. His eyes flicker green before he turns back to the little troublemaker currently biting the windowsill. “Can we borrow your lasso?! Or buy a leash?!”

Diana raises a brow.

“Ellie, stop biting the damn furniture! You’re too young to be traveling the world, damn it!” Dante shouts, trying to pry his sister away from the open window.

Ellie, utterly unbothered, swats at him with surprising force. “No! Wanna go to Greece! Lemme go!”

“You’re not going into the ocean, dammit!” Dante snaps back, only to yelp when Ellie plants a solid kick to his face.

Diana watches, unimpressed but unsurprised, as Dante stumbles. That moment of lost balance is all Ellie needs—wiggling free, she makes a determined beeline right out the window.

Diana sighs. Enough of that.

She catches Ellie by the waist with ease, pulling her back into the penthouse before she can so much as dangle a foot into open air. “Not yet, little one,” Diana says, tone firm but gentle. “As your brother said, you are far too young. Perhaps when you are eight, like Daniel, I shall permit it.”

Ellie whines loudly, puffing out her cheeks and attempting to push against Diana’s hold. It’s adorable, really—her tiny hands barely make an impact against Diana’s chest. Realizing resistance is futile, Ellie huffs and goes limp in her mother’s arms, a dramatic display of defiance.

Diana is unfazed. With one arm, she holds Ellie effortlessly, and with the other, she reaches out to help Dante up.

“Did I take too long?” she asks, amused.

“If you did, she’d already be by the coast,” Dante grumbles, rubbing his face and glaring at Ellie, who resolutely avoids his gaze.

Diana chuckles. It is never dull in this household.

Wraith and Phantom make their entrance as they always do—silently, effortlessly, and unmistakably theirs. They do not linger in the shadow of the League as sidekicks often do, nor do they stand beside any other hero. They are with her and her alone.

The League, naturally, takes notice.

Their presence is striking, their power undeniable. Even their attire contrasts sharply with Diana’s own. Where she stands adorned in gold, red, and blue, they are shrouded in black and white, their cloaks shifting like the cosmos itself. Danny—Phantom—wears the void, an expanse of endless cold that seems to devour the light around it. Dante—Wraith—holds within his cloak the heat of a dying star, the fury of a sun on the brink of collapse.

And then, of course, there are their abilities.

Dante calls forth fire from the earth with a mere flick of his wrist, the ground obeying his command as flames rage in his wake. Danny summons ice from the sky, turning the battlefield into his frozen domain. Opposites in nearly every way, yet when they fight, it is seamless, an unrelenting force that none can withstand.

Barry whistles, watching as Wraith effortlessly hurls the latest villain skyward, only for Phantom to snatch them mid-air and slam them back into the ground with a force that rattles the street. "Okay, lady, you've got two concerningly powerful kids there," he laughs, though the nervous edge in his voice betrays his unease.

Batman, ever observant, merely nods. "Exceptional technique," he notes. "Did you train them yourself?"

Diana crosses her arms, watching as Phantom and Wraith move with fluid precision, their synergy as natural as breathing. "Somewhat," she admits. "They had exceptional mentors before arriving in this world, but I had to reteach them certain things after their transition."

Superman drifts closer, eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the two finish subduing their opponent. Yet their work is not done—Phantom immediately turns to the civilians, kneeling to comfort frightened children, his expression softening. Wraith, meanwhile, sets to repairing the damage they’ve left behind, a flick of his hand mending fractured pavement.

"Amazing," Clark murmurs. "So they’re from another world?"

"Another dimension," Diana corrects, carefully choosing her words. "They were sent here for their well-being. It would be best if you do not pry into their origins. It has been... difficult for them. Leaving home was not their choice."

A quiet understanding passes between them.

After a beat, Batman hums. "Would it be beneficial to introduce them to the others? The Titans, perhaps? They are younger than most of our younger heroes, but it may help them to have peers outside of us."

Diana watches as Wraith floats down beside Phantom, producing a small, unharmed kitten from seemingly nowhere and handing it to a tearful child. The girl’s sniffles quiet as she clutches the creature, Phantom ruffling her hair with an encouraging smile.

A rare warmth spreads in Diana’s chest.

She considers Batman’s words, then smiles. "That would be nice," she agrees. "It would make my day knowing my apprentices are given the chance to make friends."

Althought the prospect would solely depend on the boys' decision. Ellie would join in the vigilantism soon enough but for now...

"Παιδιά! Ελάτε εδώ!" (Kids! Come here!) Diana beckoned them towards her and the two half-ghosts were quick to move. Wraith floated towards her while Phantom slipped into a portal appeared at her side.

"Batman suggested I introduce you to the younger heroes. The Titans—they are led by Batman's protoge, Robin."

"The colorful one?" Phantom's face was hidden but Diana could tell his face was already scrunched up.

"Yes," she sighed, "The colorful one."

"I wanna meet them!" Phantom eagerly said, "Isn't your sister there? Can we meet her too? Ooh! And a speedster!"

Again, Dante looked utterly aghast when the speedster was mentioned.

Alas, this will do.

Masterpost