#dante's discard pile

[plantdad-dante]

Book #192 - Paris By Starlight by Robert Dinsdale

(this isn't what I read books for, this is what I read the newspaper for. if I wanted to be this depressed about a current social issue, I would go and read some recent history, or some investigative journalism. meme-wise, this book could have been an article in Le Monde International.)

This book demands a patience of its reader that I simply do not possess. Its pace is languid, its characters more those of a fairy tale or a moral story than a modern novel, and its setting and world never truly click with a plot that, laborious as it ends up moving, still wishes to move forward.

It demands of you to sit there, while it pain-stakingly spins a surreal, dream-like tale of whimsical magic, regularly and jarringly broken up by harrowing tales of survival and hardship, in what I find to be a correct assessment of the European immigration system. Later it adds the unconvincing right-wing radicalization of an idiot teenager (who we are still supposed to empathise with, I think?), and the terrifying mind of a man so deeply off the deep-end of trauma and survival mode that I was just begging the book to finally put him into a mental institution or out of his misery and mine.

The soft, happy, static plot of Levon and Isabelle, with their music and their plants and their little birds and Arina the golden child, clashed with the terrifying, meteoric rise of nationalism around them, both in their own community and within Paris-by-Day. And I do not just mean that the first half of the book didn't quite fit with the second, but also how Isabelle and Levon behaved in the latter half. I wish Levon had argued, had stood up for his ideals and tried to convince his People. He would not have had to be a leader to do it, he just needed to say something. Stand up to your deeply traumatized and terrifying dad, my dude.

But no, Isabelle and him just played out their own version of Pyramus und Thisbe instead, leaving the People to either deal or fall in line with their wanna-be dictator...

See, I agree with the book that Empires and nationalism are bad, that borders are bullshit, and, most importantly, that violence might buy you survival, but it won't buy you a life. But I just... did not have a single ounce, not a gram, of fun while reading it. Maybe this would work for someone else, I don't know. I have a feeling that if I dug deeper into it, its themes would get more jumbled than I am willing to entangle, so I will leave it at this.

Also, yes, nitpick, but if it had at least nailed down a decade and stuck to it, then maybe I wouldn't have had to constantly remind myself that this wasn't Victorian times and that no one was wearing petticoats.

[kiyosato-yuri]

something about Ryōshū and Yoshihide

[might be a bit offensive, most is personal thought about Yoshihide and how PM build Ryōshū at the moment]

As someone who love Ryōshū, me and my friend wanted to make this post

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

In Jigoku hen (Hell’s Screen), Yoshihide is a peculiar, arrogant, and conceited painter who looks down on all rules and traditions. He’s someone who cast away the Five Constants 五常 ( 義 justice, 禮 politeness, 智 wisdom, 信 fidelity and 仁 benevolence) to pursue art.

「あゝ、これでございます、これを描く為めに、あの恐ろしい出来事が起つたのでございます。又さもなければ如何に良秀でもどうしてかやうに生々と奈落の苦艱が画かれませう。

あの男はこの屏風の絵を仕上げた代りに、命さへも捨てるやうな、無惨な目に出遇ひました。云はゞこの絵の地獄は、本朝第一の絵師良秀が、自分で何時か墜ちて行く地獄だつたのでございます.... 。」

“It was for this reason, indeed, his consuming desire to paint this picture, that the terrible incident occurred. If it had not been for this event, how could even Yoshihide have succeeded in painting that graphic picture of the tortures and agonies in Hell? 

So, he could complete the picture, his life had to come to a miserable end. Indeed, it was to this very Hell in his picture, that Yoshihide, the greatest painter in Japan, had condemned himself.”

In the game, Ryōshū is depicted almost exactly the same way, if not more explicitly deranged than the original. There are numerous moments in the game that describe her eyes lighting up when she starts “painting” or marveling at piles of [censored] meats while exclaiming in delight.

You don’t even have to look so far—just read the uptie story of Warp Corp. Ryōshū. It vividly portrays her happiness and joy in cleaning up the hellscape created by centuries of despair-driven madness. I'll even quote here

"I get to visit a museum, an exhibition featuring brand-new pieces of art every single day. All that for a bit of physical labor." "When this train that people take without giving it a second thought, every single day...Turned out to be a gallery of arts, sculpted with chisels of time! While I was impressed with how well they were hiding this truth from the public... three words came to mind. This. Is. It.

" In hindsight, I was so absorbed with chasing after and creating my own art "

"One that wrapped its flesh around the plush side of the seat, embodying a new chair with extra cushioning...One that is an amalgam of many, taking the shape of a new organism and lurching on... Though I wouldn't classify that as 'art'. Not yet."

"Shambling without intent is… in the end, insufficient to be called art. It is incomplete at best. I butcher them. Because the company ordered me to make them easier to clean up. To interfere with the process of involuntary art isn't to my liking, no… But that doesn't happen very often. Besides, there is plenty to be gained from the rest."

If that’s doesn't prove much, in the opening moments of the game, she’s visibly enjoying watching people get tossed into a bus to be crushed into fuel, while Sinclair is terrified, and Dante is questioning the morality of what’s happening.

With such evidence, there’s no way to claim her sadistic tendencies are just a façade or mask—it’s her bare essence. And that’s without even touching on her masochistic tendencies, which honestly make Yoshihide seem tame in comparison when it comes to twisted and warped personalities.

Ryōshū and Yoshihide are both artists consumed by blind, inescapable devotion to their craft. They are the kind of people who would willingly open the gates of hell and hurl themselves inside. They are also inevitably doomed to fall into Avīci Hell.

And as for being sad? Was Jigoku hen supposed to be a tragic tale of a father losing his daughter? Was Yoshihide meant to be a character that evokes sympathy for his suffering? Absolutely and definitely not.

Yoshihide himself opened the gates of hell and threw himself in—no one pushed him. He discarded the Five Constants and trampled over human lives in the name of art.

「檳榔毛の車にも火をかけよう。又その中にはあでやかな女を一人、上﨟のをさせて乗せて遣はさう。炎と黒煙とに攻められて、する、車―それを描かうと思ひついたのは、流石に天下第一の絵師ぢや。褒めてとらす。おゝ褒めてとらすぞ」

"A charming woman dressed up like a court lady shall ride in the carriage. Writhing amidst the deadly flames and black smoke, the lady in the carriage will die in agony. Your suggestion of finding such a model for your picture does you full credit as the greatest painter in the whole country. I praise you. I praise you highly."

What Yoshihide receives at the end of the story is the consequence of his own actions. In the end, he finishes painting the hellish screen—only after watching his beloved daughter burn alive before his eyes—and then hangs himself. The masterpiece he created was painted with the agony of witnessing his daughter’s death, and yet, just moments after despair, he finds joy and radiance in it. At his core, Yoshihide is still a painter who sacrifices goodness for the sake of beauty.

He’s no different from his original inspiration, Ryōshū in Uji Shūi Monogatari (Tales of a Rainy Night), who took delight in watching his house burn, his wife and children still inside. Akutagawa’s addition of a sense of love and grief in Yoshihide is a form of punishment—because while the original Ryōshū lost his humanity, Yoshihide still feels pain, which haunts him after completing his masterpiece.

「その火の柱を前にして、凝り固まつたやうに立つてゐる良秀は― 何と云ふ不思議な事でございませう。あのさつきまで地獄の責苦に悩んでゐたやうな良秀は 、今は云ひやうのない輝きを、さながら恍惚とした法��の輝きを、皺だらけな満面に浮べながら、大殿様の御前も忘れたのか、両腕をしつかり胸に組んで、佇んでゐるではございませんか。

それがどうもあの男の眼の中には、娘の悶え死ぬ有様が映つてゐないやうなのでございます。唯美しい火焔の色と、その中に苦しむ女人の姿とが、限りなく心を悦ばせる― さう云ふ景色に見えました。」

"In front of the pillar of fire, Yoshihide stood still, rooted to the ground. What a wonderful transfiguration he had undergone! A mysterious radiance, a kind of blissful ecstasy, showed on the wrinkled face of Yoshihide who had been agonized by the tortures of hell until a minute before.

His arms were tightly crossed on his chest as if he had forgotten that he was in the presence of the Grand Lord. No longer did his eyes seem to mirror the image of his daughter's agonized death. His eyes seemed to delight beyond measure in the beautiful color of the flame and the form of the woman writhing in her last infernal tortures."

Because of how Jigoku hen is written, readers are left with the impression that “Yoshihide, despite his twisted nature, still has humanity.” But they forget how much pleasure he took in watching his daughter burn. Now they project what they read onto Ryōshū… even though the game hasn’t explored her backstory? So far, the game hasn’t dropped a single hint about Ryōshū’s backstory. She remains one of the most mysterious sinners on the bus. None of the uptie stories for her IDs provide even a shred of evidence that she’s secretly melancholic like Gregor.

What we can confirm is that she cherishes her sword, has some connection to the Five Fingers, and always speaks up when the topic of family comes up. Using the original work as a basis to interpret a character is fine but announcing your personal interpretation as fact while accusing others of not understanding the character is like running ahead of the car you're supposed to be riding.

Ryōshū, Sinner No. 4 of Limbus Company, is a violence-loving mystery of a character with shady connections, an artist who finds beauty in the grotesque. While this is not the entirety of her character, it is who she is. 

Ryōshū is Ryōshū—not Don Quixote or Rodion with a mask slapped on.

Liking her for her violent and twisted nature doesn’t make you a fool. It’s not the same as liking someone and then realizing the person you admired was merely putting on an act or presenting a beautiful façade. If PM later explores a more humanizing or empathetic aspect of Ryōshū, your reaction would likely be, “Oh, so Ryōshū still has humanity/she also has this side to her?” There might be some surprises, but it definitely wouldn’t feel like being deceived.

Even though I’m pretty sure most of the Ryōshū’s shrimp pond will continue simping for her because of her twisted nature as it is now. Either way, even if Ryōshū is shown to have humanity, she’ll still be Ryōshū—she’ll still turn people into a heap of [CENSORED] and call it art. That’s also how Akutagawa described Yoshihide up until the moment he ceased to live.

From start to finish, Yoshihide was always the blind painter single-mindedly pursuing his art, to the point that even his last shred of humanity couldn’t overcome his identity as an artist. As some analysts point out, the last remnants of Yoshihide’s humanity were burned away with the monkey that threw itself into the flames after his daughter.

「さうして朱塗のやうな袖格子がばらくと焼け落ちる中にのけ反つた娘の肩を抱いて、帛を裂くやうな鋭い声を、何とも云へず苦しさうに、長く煙の外へ飛ばせました。続いて又、二声三声 ― 私たちは我知らず、あつと同音に叫びました。

壁代のやうな焔を後にして、娘の肩に縋つてゐるのは、堀河の御邸に繋いであつた、あの良秀と諢名のある猿だつたのでございますから。その猿が何処をどうしてこの御所まで、忍んで来たか、それは勿論誰にもわかりません。」

“Amidst the burned crimson-lacquered lattice which was crumbling in pieces, it put it hands on the warped shoulders of the girl, and gave, out of the screens of black smoke, a long and piercing shriek of intense grief like the tearing of silk, then again two or three successive screams. Involuntarily we gave a unanimous outcry of surprise. 

What was holding fast to the shoulders of the dead girl, with the red curtain of blazing flames behind it, was the monkey, which went by the nickname of Yoshihide at the mansion of Horikawa.”

That would be Ryoshu, following the original Yoshihide's portrayal most closely—not some tragic, repressed character. As for how Project Moon plans to cook her up, only they know. They’re keeping it under wraps, so no player can analyze her in depth just yet. What if they decide to make her a fusion dance of the lord, the painter, and the daughter?

For those who like Ryoshu because she’s a handsome, domineering figure—well, lucky you, no worries there.

[hollowblxxd]

[ BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE THEORY / SPECULATIONS / AU THAT FIXES SHIT ]

This time with DEVIL MAY CRY my devoted love

To those who dont know me I love DMC a lot but I have a lot of issues with the ongoing story. So fuck it here in my AU about how to make DMC a overall better storyline cuz I can do

Whatever I wanna

So this whole AU focuses a lot on Nero because this theory spawned in due to the uncertainty over Neros character and the idea that DMC was kinda over since the 4th game unfortunately "killed" the series. It also tied together when DMC2 cuz when DMC4 came out the sequel was considered non-canon cuz it was such a horrible flop.

I personally loved the game with a PASSION cuz the pile of unfortunate garbage that was DMC2 was the first game I ever played and one of the first "mature" games i ever got. I remember begging my grandmother who was baby sitting me to let me play one game and I picked the coolest looking one. Of course being this

ANYYYYWAYYY Im getting off track

My theory is Nero was in fact a clone of Sparda, and not only was he a clone of Sparda but hes ACTUALLY Dante in DMC2.

Let me explain.

The order in DMC4 was obviously an isolated group at the time that was very involved with the CREATION of demons and the worship of SPARDA.

The whole game of DMC4 is about the order trying to recreate their god and I highly doubt this was their first attempt, most likely it was more of their most extreme attempt.

Which as sad it is to say I think Nero was one of the first but messed up attempts. They wanted to bring Spardas power out of the demon world and they got it but NOT as they expected... Instead of resssurecting theyre great glorified devil god. They got a human child.

Cuz in the end Sparda had a human heart and Nero was a reflection OF that. He was a full demon but you'd never know at first glance. So he was discarded as just some abandoned baby.

Nero was luckily found by Kyries family and just seen as poor person forsaken kid. And it wasnt until Nero was SEVERALLY INJURED did Nero demonic nature reveal itself in REPLACING HIS MORTAL BODY WITH A DEMONIC ONE.

Even Nero rebellious nature could actually be a reflection of who Sparda was in the past because you dont just turn against everything youve ever known on a whim. Sparda rebelled, Nero again reflected that.

Even him FALLING IN LOVE WITH A MORTAL WOMAN, again is another REFLECTION on Sparda history. Nero following all the exact footsteps Sparda did. Rebels against his people, Falls in love with a human girl, Defeats a power hungry overlord before slapping the hell gate closed trapping the demons away with his own sword.

Nero also wears BOTH blue and red, which combined and in ORIGINAL CONCEPT ART Nero was actually dressed in PURPLE with a white scarf much like Sparda wearing coat with a white ruffle.

Other things that makes me think hes far stronger than merely a 1/4 demon.

Nero made Dante almost demon trigger from just HITTING him. Dante been stabbed, shot, burnt, thrown off building, eaten, etc. and has NEVER forcefully demon triggered the whole time and suddenly some punk punches him and Dante starts to flash? The last time thst happened is in DMC3 when the tower was drilling closer to hell and getting him closer to

You guessed it SPARDAS POWER.

On top of that, no matter how much his Holiness tried to use the sword of Sparda, the power would not be granted to him, but you know who did use it? WITH EASE? Nero.

Nero used not only Sparda, but Rebellion AND Yamato WITH EASE. And before anyone says "But Rebellions and Yamato is Dante and Vergils sword"

WRONG.

Dante and Vergil INHERITED those swords FROM their father. They were always originally SPARDAS SWORDS. ALWAYS.

The one sword that returns to Nero is the one WITHOUT AN OWNER. Vergil in DMC4 is dead. He died in DMC1 and I dont care what anyone says, Vergil. Is. Dead. He should stay dead cuz it literally ruins his whole character arc to be alive again. Let the man be dead.

In the end the overwhelming evidence that Nero is Sparda is endless and I would email Capcom myself to tell them theyre wrong If I had the power to. Cuz theyre wrong.

ONTO THE NEXT POINT

DMC2 Dante is actually Nero

The Order was revealed to be manipulating the essence of demons into ANGELIC beings that would follow there commands.

At the time theyre secrets were hidden but in the events of DMC4 their secrets could have easily been revealed. And you know what REALLY loves secrets especially when it comes to making free slaves?

Big fucking Business baby.

I believe that the methods of the Order were leaked to the public allowing Business to stsrt using their methods to produce specific demons to serve specific purposes. Taking on the angelic look already provided by the Order to make it "friendlier" to the general populace.

And big business being business it COULDNT really be stopped as they tamper with forces beyond their control...

Dante was getting older and getting overwhelmed and despite it I think the original Dante died.

How? Why? Unknown but what I believe happened is Nero took over for Dante.

Prehaps to simply honor him, Prehaps he still thought the world needed Dante. In the end Nero choice Dante name and even another Alias of "The Son of Sparda" as being a clone of Sparda still technically applies as being a "son".

Noticable the DMC2 Dante personally very muted compared to any other Dante in any other game. But you know who kinda a little quiet boy? Nero...

Also a specific thing that I LOVE about DMC2 is when Dante gets an upgrade the piece would fly towards him and try to hit his heart but DANTE ALWAYS GRABBED IT WITH HIS RIGHT HAND the SAME hand that Nero uses to grab his items and absorb! He could have just let it absorb naturally but he SPECIFICALLY grabbed it with that hand.

Whats more convincing is the fact DMC2 dante has almost the weird... arm sleeve thing that Im pretty sure was a poor render of a gun or back hustle but it honestly to me at the time looks like his sleeve could be removed. Maybe prehaps to reveal his arm? Hmm

Also going with the idea that Nero being technically a creation of the Order could easily bond well with Lucia too since she struggle with the fact SHES a creation. Not a devil hunter of this great legacy but just "some monster" something Nero HAD TO STRUGGLE WITH TOO.

The bond between them could have started a new legacy similar to Dante with Lady and Trish.

It starts all over again. A new bloodline of Sparda saving the world as it always will.

Much like the company of DMC2 being Ourboros, the snake that bites its own tail.

As long as the demon world tries it shit, a sparda one way or another will be there to stop them

THAT CONCLUDES MY TEDTALK ABOUT DMC

PLEASE EMAIL CAPCOM FOR ME AND TELL THEM MY THEORY SO THEY CAN FIX DMC AND MAKE ME HAPPY

[moonlit-reveriee]

Hey there Moon, if your requests are still open, could you do a C!Techno x Female! Reader who’s a total badass with weapons? Like she’s quick and agile with a bow and sword?

Hope you have a wonderful day/night! ^^

A Lover, and a Fighter

technoblade x fem!reader

this story was really fun to write, and i think it came out pretty cute. thank you for your request, and your patience. i hope you enjoy!

content warning // SFW, mention of drinking alcohol, description of fighting (no mention of blood or injury)

listen to this while you read: Notos by The Oh Hellos

───※ ·❆· ※───

***this story takes place during & after the revolution against Dante, with the headcanon that Hypixel takes the form of a medieval kingdom within the same universe as the dsmp***

It had been a long time since Techno had visited Hypixel, and even longer since he had taken the time to observe any of the fighters being trained there. He wasn’t surprised to see many unfamiliar faces amongst the crowds battling against Dante. But one figure in particular grabbed his attention.

As he soared through the air, launched upwards by the shockwaves of Dante’s movements, he noticed someone standing on top of a nearby building. A warrior with bow and arrow held upwards to the sky, their aim remaining steady despite the tremors that shook the earth. They leapt to the ground, swiftly pulling out a sword and began chopping down several of Dante’s goons with a single swipe.

Even in the heat of battle, he couldn’t help but be impressed. There was a deadly accuracy to all of their movements. It showed tremendous skill, and dedication to honing their abilities.

Once Dante had been defeated, Techno stayed behind to aid in Hypixel’s recovery. He walked around the battlefield strewn with debris. He shook the hand of every revolutionary he could find, secretly searching for the warrior he had seen upon the rooftops.

After a while, he was able to spot them in the crowds. A woman helping clear rubble from the destroyed community center, familiar bow and sword strapped across her back.

“Thank you for your aid in the revolution”, he said as he approached, offering a hand for her to take. She accepted it with a grip strong enough to rival his own.

“I would do anything to rid Hypixel of Dante’s corruption”, she spoke with confidence. She released his hand and turned her attention back to the rubble, lifting a wooden beam over her shoulder with ease.

“I noticed the way you fought”, he continued, bending over to pick up a piece of broken cobblestone, “you seem very skilled.”

She glanced at him from the side, mouth curving upwards into a very slight smirk.

“That’s quite the compliment coming from the blood god himself.”

“I understand good fighting when I see it”, he said with a shrug. She squinted her eyes at him, almost suspicious.

“It would be foolish of me to turn down such a compliment”, she said as she walked off towards the pile of discarded wood. He chased after her, watching her drop the beam off her shoulders with a heavy thud.

“What is your name?”, he asked when she turned to face him. She paused, quickly looking I’m up and down. She seemed skeptical of his interest in her, and maybe that was fair.

“y/n”, she said, crossing her arms.

“Would you like to duel, y/n?”, he blurted out impulsively. Her eyes widened, noticing the way he was blushing out of embarrassment.

“Are you flirting with me, Sir Blade?”, mischievous grin spreading across her face.

He sputtered, blush deepening on his cheeks while she laughed boisterously.

“Let’s clean up first”, she clapped an armored hand over his shoulder with a loud metal clank, “meet me at the duels arena in a few days.” She walked past him, leaving him to twist around and watch her back as she left.

Techno ended up seeing her again before their duel. Members of the revolution were meeting in a local tavern to celebrate, and he found her lounging in a quiet corner of the bar. Tankard in her hand, she happily watched the other members of the guild drunkenly trip over themselves. He didn’t approach her, at least not at first.

Later in the evening, a man sidled up to her table. Techno couldn’t hear what he was saying, but it seemed like she was trying to politely shoo him away. Clearly drunk out of his mind, he reached out a hand and forcibly cupped her cheek. Techno stood up from his seat, ready to yank the man back by his collar. Before he could, she grabbed his hand and bent his arm backwards behind his head. The man was sent to his knees, wincing in pain.

“I said don’t touch me”, she sneered, “learn to follow my words when I say them nicely.”

She released the man’s hand, allowing him to stumble away with a steely glare. Once he was throughly out of her sight, she turned her attention to where Techno had begun to approach her.

“I appreciate your help, even though it was unneeded”, she sighed heavily.

“Does this happen often?”, he asked.

“Not really”, she said, “I guess the guys here think plate armor is attractive.”

“It’s probably the only clothes they’ve seen a woman in”, he joked. She chuckled lightly, the sound surprisingly sweet compared to her demeanor.

“Would you like a drink?”, she offered once her laughter had subsided.

“Ah, I would”, he sighed, “but let me cover it, I insist.”

“No”, she said firmly, “I’m sure everyone here wants to buy you a drink. Allow it to be me for tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow, noticing the flash of determination in her eye. He gave her a nod, surrendering to her wishes. She bought two pints of honeyed ale, sweet and subtly floral. They drank in comfortable silence, watching the absolutely wasted tavern goers make fools of themselves.

Time passed, and day of their duel arrived. The damage from Dante’s attack had finally been cleared and construction of the destroyed buildings began. Techno felt calm as he strode through the familiar courtyards of Hypixel’s training grounds, which surprised him. For some reason, he expected to be nervous. But at the same time, there was nothing to be nervous about, right? This was just a friendly duel between friends. Just friends who have only known each other for a few days.

His felt his stomach twist. Maybe he was nervous.

When he entering the arena, he found her already waiting for him, clad in a simpler set of armor than the one she wore to fight Dante. She waved her arm upon noticing his entrance, bright and crooked smile on her face.

“Are you ready to duel, Sir Blade?”, she called across the field. Something about that nickname made his heart glow.

“Only if you are, y/n.”

“Oh, I’m ready to get my ass kicked.”

“Hey now”, he retorted playfully, “I think you will put up a good fight.”

“We’ll see”, she shrugged, stretching her arms to warm up the muscles.

“Standard kit?”, he questioned, “diamond armor, sword and bow?”

“As long as it’s not a crossbow. I haven’t figured those fuckers out yet”, she muttered.

He nodded, donning a set of armor to match hers. They took stances at opposite sides of the arena. She already had a bow in hand, arrow cocked and ready. Techno had dueled one on one many times. Some more stress-inducing than other. The anticipation of this fight made his fingers tingle with excitement. A bell began to toll. Standard practice for training duels: on the fourth chime, the fight began.

An arrow whizzed from its string, narrowly missing him as he strafed right and began moving in a wide curve towards her. She switched to her sword, ready to meet his in a clang of metal against metal.

They traded blows almost evenly. While Techno’s sword swung with immense strength behind it, hers was agile and precise. When she landed a hit, it was because she could aim her sword exactly where the armor was weakest. When their swords became interlocked, she made eye contact and grinned wildly. His concentration fell, and she seized the opportunity to disengage and put some distance between them.

From her newfound position, she returned to her bow and began firing shots with a deadly accuracy. When fighting with others around his skill level, Techno liked to wear them down. Hiding and running away, giving him a chance to recover while they chased. Now, however, his strategy was being challenged. Her skill with a bow was outstanding, even at very long distances. There were very few places he could hide that she couldn’t hit.

Their reached a point where the battle was at a stalemate. They had returned to sword combat, a heavy sheen on sweat on their brows. She parried a blow from him, but he pushed back with any remaining strength he had left, sending her staggering back wards. She gritted her teeth, running forwards suddenly with a ferocious scream. It surprised him so much he barely reacted as she slammed into him right at the waist and tackled him to the ground.

He twisted to land on his side, causing her to fall on the ground next to him. They both panted, making no move to stand up.

“I-“, she gasped, “I’ve never done that before.” He huffed out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbows and offering a hand to help her sit up as well.

��That was a good fight”, he said after they’d both caught their breath.

“Thank you”, she said, removing her helmet and wiping away the strands of hair that stuck to her face, “I didn’t expect to win, but a draw is good enough for me… Thank you for giving me the chance.”

“You fight very different from me”, he said while shaking the hair out of his face, “I was curious to see how it would go. You’ll have to show me some of those sword techniques, they’re great.”

She smiled, puffing up a little bit at the praise. Her hand came up to brush away some of the dust that stuck to the side of his face. She seemed to do it subconsciously, because her eyes widened at the realization and she moved her hand away quickly. In a heat of the moment decision he grabbed her hand in midair, holding it in his own. Her eyes met his and the seconds seemed to stretch.

Something drew him, like a magnetic force, to lean in and press a kiss to her lips. It was relatively quick, but it felt so much longer to him. When he pulled away, she blinked at him. Her cheeks were pink, but he was unsure whether it was from the kiss or the fighting.

“I should have asked first, shouldn’t I?”, he said after clearing his throat.

“No, no”, she replied, still slightly dazed, “you’re fine.”

“I don’t know why-“, he stuttered, “I doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to, we can just forget it happened.”

“I-“, she paused, “… I think I’d like to remember it actually.”

The grip on his hand tightened, and Techno felt butterflies in his chest.

“I think my mind’s going a little foggy”, she continued, “could you remind me?”

It took far longer than it should have for his brain to process her words. When the gears finally clicked, a dry laugh escaped his lips.

“Are you flirting with me, dear?”, he retorted.

She laughed, a joyous and melodic sound. He cut her off before she could finish, causing her to giggle against his lips. Sitting in the middle of an empty battle arena, various weapons strewn around them, they allowed themselves to share in each other’s presence and be happy.

───※ ·❆· ※───

AHAHHAHAHA i just wanna say thank you again for this request because it ended up being such a joy to write. it was so fun to write the reader with this kind of personality

plus, it gave me an excuse to give this story a medieval fantasy aesthetic, which, in my humble opinion, is the superior aesthetic for techno

i can’t stress this enough, thank you to every anon who’s submitted a request for being patient with me! i’m trying to get through them chronologically while still giving myself enough of a break that i won’t get overwhelmed or burnt out. regardless of any wait, i hope you enjoyed!

thank you for reading <3

-moonlight

[sheyearns]

he's heard rumors of 'children of misfortune' before, but truth be told, vanitas isn't intimately familiar with the concept. dante, of course, knew at least something, and the price he'd charged for the name of a city and a vague physical description had cost vanitas nearly an arm and a leg. ('don't go poking your head around in business that doesn't involve you,' was the sage advice he'd received --- and promptly discarded, as is his way from time to time.) and so, he finds himself in a city called 'sablier' --- one he's wholly unfamiliar with, and in the dead of winter no less, much to his endless chagrin! --- looking for the woman dante had described: pale, dark hair, red eyes, and a personality that's a little bit like yours in some ways (---whatever that was supposed to mean....) [ 8D !!! ]

@chironitas

        THE RAVEN-HAIRED FEMALE WAS was humming softly to herself as she casually strolled through the one of the main streets of the city of Sablier. Everything around her was gorgeous white, it was one of the first days of Winter and just as expected Winter didn’t hesitate to shower the city in piles and piles of snows. 

        Lacie loved the crunchy sound as she walked in the paths of snow. Winter was her favorite season of the year, when the leaves of trees withered and fell down onto the ground, the water of rivers turned into glass of ices and some animals like bears crawl back into their hibernation. Not to mention that the snow gave a more beautiful structure to the nature as a whole. 

        It was very quiet. There wasn’t a single townsfolk awake in the streets. Lacie saw the lights of fire burning in the houses, some families sitting in front of the hearth to keep warm. There was a time when she was very small and she and her brother weren’t a member of the Baskerville family yet, she and Oswald were sitting like that in a similar way but they barely had a fire, just a small one but it wasn’t enough for both of them.... that night was horrible, the two siblings were holding each other closely, trying to find the warmth in their embrace. Her brother Oswald kept saying the same words, ‘’It’s going to be okay, Lacie. I’ll keep you save.”, over and over again through the entire night and Lacie believed him. Her brother’s love for her was infinite and at the time he was all she ever had.

        “Ah, I should head home.”

        Lacie was sulking; she didn’t want to return home. The evening was still fresh and she liked it being this silent. Nobody who would bother her, say something about her unusual eyes. But her brother was a worrywart. If she didn’t return soon, he would send someone to seek for her and Levi would laugh it off, saying she was a prisoner in her own home.

        “Being alone like this... isn’t so bad, after all.”

[nekolatte]

Chapter 4: Pursuit

Preview: Dante noted the color of his hair, the curve of his nose and set of his jaw― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment. “What do you want?” Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. “To help you”

Oh, Dante was in trouble. 

Well, he was always in some form of trouble. Either with his landlord, his local government. Lady, Trish, the world in general. The demon world in generalー  

Pausing his increasingly derailing train of thought, Dante picked up a discarded shirt and moved on, both literally and mentally. 

Point was, he was having feelings. Soft, playful feelings like those first few weeks when Lady blushed and stuttered at every other innuendo out of Dante's mouth or when Trish would smirk and tease at his attempts to make her laugh. Flirting came second nature to Dante, but other than getting an amusing reaction from the other party, there wasn’t much else he gained from it. Contrary to his public persona, he wasn’t interested in getting laid with a revolving door of men, women and miscellaneous. 

Dante enjoyed the attention, not the intimacy.

But with Leon, some stranger he scraped up off the sidewalk and stitched back together? There was something there that Dante wanted to tentatively pursue, and the only person he ever actively pursued in his life was a brother he couldn’t confidently confirm was dead or alive at the moment. This was new and strange and Dante didn't want to stop despite the alarm bells ringing.

He tried telling himself that it was all in good fun, that even if he did get stupidly attached, Leon certainly wouldn't reciprocate. Wariness and hostility wafted off the man like the demon guts he had bathed in prior, and seemed oblivious that he gave off either stench. Dante wouldn’t be entranced forever at chasing after someone that wasn’t interestedー he may have been foolhardy but he wasn’t masochistic. Not entirely. Enjoying Lady’s company made him doubt that part of himself sometimes, but no. 

In any case, maybe Dante shouldn't have hinted at the threat during their first little talk, been more open and friendly to a human side-stepping into Hell’s door― it had just felt urgent that the man understand the circumstances he was suddenly in. Too late for it now.

Preferring to confront problems with a sword and gun, of which neither was good in this particular instance, Dante decided to just ignore everything and get Leon some pants.

He knocked on the bathroom door just to be polite and let himself in without bothering to wait for a response. Leon looked irritated, to put it mildly, but had nothing to say when Dante presented the clothing he found.

“What, no leather?” Leon quipped, though seemed to regret it immediately as he took a sudden and all-consuming focus in squeezing and flicking off every bit of water on his person. Probably would’ve kept on going if Dante didn’t toss a towel at him, even if it was amusing to watch a grown man sulk in a tub with a shower curtain wrapped around his waist.

“You can’t pull it off like I can.”

Leon grumbled something under his breath that even Dante couldn’t pick up, and yet Dante didn’t move from his comfortable lean against the vanity despite how obvious Leon was at dragging this whole ordeal out. He wasn’t going to ask for help, despite having it allowed it before, obviously waiting for Dante to take the hint and leave but Dante wasn’t going to take it. He really did want to help, plain and simple. 

Humans were so damn soft, so damn fragile. Dante left Leon alone for all of ten minutes and the guy nearly cracked his skull on the bathroom tile. Both too stubborn to concede, the minutes dragged like hours― Dante watching Leon for every second of it. Head tilted like a curious cat, he noted the color of his hair: darker, when wet, though the tips and the wispy hair that made up his fringe were starting to lighten already. The curve of his nose and set of his jaw, light stubble pushing through. Severe eyebrows at contrast with bow lips― Leon was pretty, and more so when he turned red with embarrassment.

“What do you want?”

Dante blinked, not realizing immediately that question was for him― instead captive to the show of snarling teeth and an eye color that looked more green than blue under the dingy bathroom light. He recovered quickly, though.

“To help you, what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”

Something in Leon seemed to break, maybe his pride, because he slumped in place, face gone dark and pinched, and looked about ready to accept his death rather than a helping hand up. Dante frowned, the victory leaving a confused, bitter taste in his mouth, and failed to come up with a comment to lighten the mood.

All he could do was step forward at Leon’s quietly raised hand, ignoring it entirely to lean down into the tub and scoop the stubborn man right up. Since he was already feeling guilty over the whole debacle, not realizing how far he pushed Leon past his comfort zone, Dante went right ahead and took more liberties than given. 

Leon, worryingly, said nothing, though Dante found some quiet solace in the bright red of his ears that stuck out almost endearingly from flat hair. Clothes snagged on the way to Trish’s room proper, Dante cleared out a space for Leon on the bed before setting him down. The man in question did everything imaginable to avoid Dante’s line of sight, and Dante still felt too thrown off to do anything but respect the man’s privacy as best he could.

It involved a lot of looking to the side while going off muscle memory to bandage Leon up and help him into a shirt and sweats, a few pained hisses here and there, but the lack of communication was wearing. Dante wasn’t much for silence, especially when he was responsible for part of it. He still didn’t know what he did― the way he saw it, it was the same back and forth they had just a few minutes prior. Except, well, he was ogling a man that couldn’t get away from the unwanted attention, that was his implied prisoner. Offered to help when Leon obviously had issues with it.

That last part Dante didn’t understand.

Still, he didn’t want either of them to tiptoe around each other for however long Leon was forced to stay. Dante rubbed his forehead for just a few extra moments to collect himself before he got down to kneel between Leon’s parted legs, an attempt to be in his line of sight― feeling chastised despite Leon not having said a single word. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t want to know what face Leon was making because Dante knew his own was scrunched up with guilt and embarrassment. This was not a good look for him, and one he knew anyone in his immediate acquaintance would never let him live down.

“Listen, I know what this all seems like― I know you’re feeling cautious, and with good reason, but I really am just trying to help. You’re better off not knowing the things I know, and I just need you to trust me that I’ll tell you if that changes. This… It screws up people’s heads, makes day-to-day life just a little more harder to deal with. I don’t want to put you through that.” Dante dragged a hand through his hair and disrupted the slicked-back style so it fell back over his eyes.

Dante was forced to look through them when Leon made a noise that sounded like a question, catching a gaze that was focused on Dante and Dante alone. It felt different, something he could sink into, and a baser, more primal part of his mind wanted to nudge in those last few inches forward and rest his head on Leon’s knee. He reeled from it.

Leon rubbed at a shoulder, careful with the bruising under the borrowed t-shirt. “Why. That’s what I want to know. Providing first aid, giving me a place to recuperate, is one thing. Everything else is another. Making sure I’m not infected,” Leon flinched at the word, though didn’t seem to notice his own action, “doesn’t mean you have to… help me bathe.”

“Because I like you.” The answer came easily, far before his brain could catch up to his mouth after its earlier reprimand. He hadn’t meant to admit to it― they knew each other for three days, at best, and Leon was unconscious for most of it. 

But all Dante could think about was how Leon fought for survival against something that was far beyond his capabilities, refusing to back down despite having the opportunity to turn tail and run. The grit of his teeth and the glare of his eyes when cornered, bloodied but not broken. How he sunk into Dante’s arms as if he was a safe haven, a comfort against the quick torment Leon had been subjected to. The many hours Dante spent watching the man sleep, memorizing the rise and fall of his chest― listening to the steady beat of his heart and losing precious moments of peace when it stuttered. Wanting nothing more than the ability to make Leon better instead of his arsenal of slaughter and destruction.

Maybe his pursuit wasn’t quite so tentative. 

“What I mean is―” But he didn’t have to actively admit it. “―I can tell you’re a good person, Leon. I want all this to be easier for you. I know you don’t believe me, but it isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

Feeling all manner of wrong from admitting to so much emotion without a sarcastic or stupid comment, Dante got to his feet and moved around Leon to get to the bed. He grabbed at every scrap of loose clothing and tossed them into the pile by Trish’s closet, anything to make the area a little more inviting, and gestured to it.

“You should get some more sleep, probably on a bed this time. I’m gonna go and find some food for you.” Dante fled before Leon could get a word in otherwise.

[solynaceawrites]

IDLE HANDS

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Rating: Explicit A/N: This is my first foray in writing reader inserts in a long time, and it was fun to come back to this style! I want to give a huge thank you to @maybeishouldwait​ for encouraging me and helping me finish this one-shot, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You’re not quite sure how you’ve wound up here. Logically, of course, there’s a chain of events you can follow that starts with answering an advert in a newspaper to being at your physical location—the Devil May Cry, housed in a historic heritage building—but how that had led to your current predicament of having your boss’ hands fumbling with your skirt while your own try to untangle the layers of leather separating his skin from yours you couldn’t say. Not that you’re complaining; Dante Sparda is, perhaps, the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, and the greedy way he nips and tugs at your neck lets you know you’re in for a really good lay. If someone had ever told you that taking a job as a secretary-maid-bookkeeper for a handy-man shop would lead to this, you’d have laughed them off as reading too many raunchy paperbacks.

Or watching too many cheesy pornos.

Dante lifts his head, his piercing blue gaze like a physical touch on your face. There’s frustration within it, and his voice, but he’s grinning as he gripes, “Yer clothes are way too complicated, darlin’.”

You don’t think they are. Nothing you’re wearing is out of your usual limits: a simple button-down blouse, a black A-line skirt, tights, pumps with little kitten heels. Laughing softly, you reach to cover his hands with yours, guiding them to your hip, where a hidden zipper rests. “You just have to know where to look.”

“Uh-huh.” He tugs it down, and you shimmy the fabric over your thighs and kick it to the side. “Maybe I’ll make a new rule about ya workin’ here.”

“Oh?” Deciding to take mercy on him, you’re already halfway through the buttons of your shirt, and you pause to tilt your head, studying him curiously. 

“No clothes.”

You roll your eyes with a smile. “I can’t work naked, Dante.”

“Sure you could.”

“If you want every potential customer who comes through to see my ass.”

He considers that, and you watch the gears churning behind his narrowed eyes and smother another chuckle, letting your shirt join the pile on the floor. “No underwear,” he counters, after a moment.

“Or,” you argue playfully, “you could learn to be patient. Besides, when you’re wearing something like that,” and you nod to the coat and chaps and spurs that you’ve spent twenty minutes fighting with, “you don’t get to say my clothes are complicated.”

“Fair enough,” he muses. 

To your surprise and dismay, he steps back, but your protest dies when he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders. You watch with a dry mouth as he unfastens the holsters and drops them—Ebony and Ivory still sitting on the desk is probably the only reason he’s so callous about it—before doing the same with his vest. Each layer of clothing he peels away only sends your already heightened senses into overdrive; it feels scandalous, somehow, seeing the broad expanse of his chest with the dusting of silver hair, or the trim line of his waist, probably because you’ve never seen him in anything less than sans coat. Dante pauses to gauge your reaction as he unhooks the chaps from his belt, and you nod to let him know you’re still onboard with where this is going. The way he smiles then is bright and soft enough to soothe the worst part of your nerves, and you giggle when he hops from foot to foot while trying to take off his chaps, boots, and spurs in one go.

He straightens with a grin and his hands on his hips. “There,” he proclaims. “Better?”

“Much,” you agree. Then it’s a race to see who can get the rest of their clothes off first, and the only reason he wins, you think, is because he’s got less to worry about, particularly as he’s going commando, a fact that makes your mouth water. You do your best not to get distracted as you let your bra, panties, and tights add to the ever-growing pile of discarded clothing, but, Jesus Christ, his thighs are like tree trunks and the cock dangling between them is the largest you’ve ever seen. Is that even going to fit? 

Dante moves closer, caging you between his bulk and the wall, and you let out a little gasp when his hands cup your chest. Then his mouth is on yours, and you part your lips for him as he kisses you greedily, drinking from your mouth like a man dying of thirst. Your fingers twist through his hair while his own squeeze your flesh, thumbs rolling over your nipples until they’re hard and you’re arching against him, craving more; he grunts when you give a particularly harsh tug to his locks before releasing your breasts to grab your waist. You lock your legs around his hips as he carries you to his desk, and you wince when he swipes his arm to clear a spot to set you down, sending a day old box of pizza and a magazine to the ground. “You sure about this?” he asks against your throat.

You swallow thickly, fighting through your nerves. Sleeping with your boss is probably not the best idea you’ve ever had, but there’s an air of reverence to Dante when it comes to you that makes you feel safe. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His mouth trails over your neck, pausing to lavish the skin of your collar until a mark blooms there, and the scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin has you panting already. Dante gives each of your breasts a kiss before continuing down until he’s kneeling between your legs, and your thought of scolding him disappears with the first press of his lips to the top of your mound. 

If there’s one talent you always suspected Dante had, it was oral. You’d never had a basis for this suspicion, other than the fact that he was always mouthing off to, well, everyone, but the moment he parts your folds with his thumbs to kiss your weeping sex, you know that you were right. He is relentless, alternating between tracing patterns over your clit with the tip of his tongue and moving lower to thrust it within you, and the groan he lets out as he tastes your body sends a blush from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes. 

Reaching for his hair, you hold on tight as he works. It's been five years since you've had a mouth between your legs, too fixated on your boss to even try dating, but this is an entirely different level. He practically drinks from your body, humming against you encouragingly as you start to grind against him. Dante fixates where you guide him, and in the last thought before he sends you over the edge, you wonder if you've ever came so fast.

You pant as he eases up, slowly licking along your labia as he gently releases his grip on your thighs. Sagging on the desk, you press the back of your hand on your forehead and try to gain control of your racing heart. "You ready now, babe?" he asks.

"Ready for what?"

He grins at you, the expression equal parts eager and predatory and making your toes curl. "For me to fuck ya, obviously."

You blink, then let out a laugh as you wrap your still trembling legs around his waist. "I'd be upset if you didn't."

Dante nods, bracing one hand next to your head as the other works between your bodies; from how his knuckles graze your folds, you assume that he's stroking himself, and butterflies set to swirling in your stomach. Part of it is that he's your boss, sure, but the rest is the pre-sex jitters you always get with a new partner: will they enjoy it, will you enjoy it, is there going to be awkwardness between the two of you after or will the relationship continue on as it was? You reach up to drape an arm over his broad shoulders and pull him closer, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He turns his face to find your lips, brushing against them as you feel him press against your opening. Your mouth opens in a gasp as the head pushes inside. He is thick and hard as a rock, and as he works to fill you up it just keeps going. Your limbs shake as Dante pumps his hips slowly, the arm around him tensing as you dig your fingers into his shoulder

His cock hits a spot inside of you that sends a shock of pleasure through your body. As you throw your head back, his mouth moves to your neck, grazing your pulse. But he doesn't stop, just teases you with teeth and tongue as he stretches your body. 

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"Yeah, it's just . . ." Your voice melts into a moan as he thrusts his hips and smacks against the back of your thighs.

"Okay," Dante pants, his mouth moving lower as he waits for you to adjust.

You're half-convinced that you're going to come the second he moves. You've never felt so full in your life, and every inch of him rubs snugly against your walls in a way that has your head spinning, and he hasn't even really gotten started yet. "Holy fuck," you whisper, staring over his shoulder at the ceiling. What have I gotten myself into?

"Mm," he groans, in agreement you think. "Remind me, why didn't we do this sooner?"

"You weren't wearing chaps," you mumble.

Dante laughs as he kisses the inside curve of your breast. "I'm wearing them every day, then."

He plants his palms face down on the desk and starts to pump his hips in a quick, shallow rhythm. It keeps his cock deep inside you, and for the next several minutes, the only sound is his panting and your quick, needy cries. Your fingers trace his chest and his arms until you can feel the next orgasm building. Dante thrusts hard into you, grinding his hips, and the friction of his body against your clit has you groaning his name.

He curses when you put your hands over your head, weak from the pleasure. "Fuck, fuck, you look so hot like this," he gasps, and that gives you an idea.

Keeping one hand curled over the edge of the desk, you quickly snake the other down to brush your fingers over your clit. He pauses, his eyes narrowed as he watches you draw little circles over the bud, and you wonder if you've somehow made a mistake before he growls. Dante grabs your thighs, pressing them up towards your chest, and the first thrust of his hips at this new angle draws a cry from your throat. "That's it," he rumbles. "You gonna come for me, darlin'?"

"Yes . . ." you moan. "Watch me."

His brows draw together as you do your best to put on a little show: it's difficult with his cock driving in and out of your body to stay focused on him, but as you start to stroke your clit with one hand and tease a nipple with the other, you can tell it's working because Dante gives a low groan. "Shit, come for me, I can't hold on . . ."

You close your eyes; it's a pity to lose the sight of his pleasure-screwed expression, but now you can focus on the press of his body and your own playful touch. Because you can't see him, you jolt when he mouths at your breast, panting hotly against your skin. Then he seals his lips around your nipple, sucking it with quick, sharp tugs, and your voice locks in your throat as your orgasm crashes over you.

Dante hisses your name through the haze of bliss. Moments later you feel him come, thick gushes of seed filling you as your release rocks through your body. You swear you can feel every pulse, almost as if his cock is rippling inside you. Your head is spinning from the intensity, but he doesn't stop. You reach up to grab his hair, shoulder, something . . . and gasp when his skin feels like heated metal and his fingers on your thighs go momentarily sharp, digging into you like claws.

It only lasts for a second, and his skin is soft and smooth and covered with stubble when you brush your fingers over his cheek. His hips slowly still, his lips whispering along her shoulder, until the two of you are simply locked together with his body a comfortable cage around your own. The way he nuzzles you is soothing and, on the heels of such an intense orgasm, makes you more than a little sleepy. But the question of what just happened pricks at you. 

"Dante?" 

"Hm?"

"Did you . . . transform? Just now?"

He clears his throat, a noise you know means he's flustered. "Almost." You nudge him with your knee to prompt him, and he groans and presses his face to your neck. "Part of being half-devil. Sometimes, if I get too wound up, I'll, uh . . . trigger."

"Oh." You consider that. "Okay."

"Does it scare you?"

If you weren't riding a post-coital high, the words you say next would have never left your mouth. "No. It's pretty hot, actually."

"Oh yeah?" His mouth captures yours for a slow, sloppy kiss, and when he pulls away he slides his cock out of you, leaving you sensitive as you stretch on the desk. "You ready for round two yet?" Dante grins.

You make a show of thinking, leaving your arms above your head and rubbing your thighs together, and you don't miss how his eyes darken as his gaze zeroes in on your chest. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"Me?!" Dante shouts, and you laugh as he lifts you and swings you over his shoulder. He carries you easily up the steps, giving your backside a smack as he teases, "Let's see who outlasts who."

[vicunaburger]

Some of us cool kids on our Discord server decided to have a little fun this week and create some Inferno Girls OCs!

If you wanna see more lovely ladies, gents, and NB lovelies, check out the “#infernooc” tag.

Without further ado...

Poppy “Lollipop” Remington

More information under the cut!

Name/Stage Name: Poppy “Lollipop” Remington

Year/Cause of Death/Age: 1988, sawblade to the chest, 25

Favorite Dancing Song: Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)” (or anything 80s synth pop/new wave)

Role in the House: Dancer/Payroll “Payment Enforcer” -Prefers dancing on stage and working behind the scenes of the club to 1-1 clientele. Very self conscious about her less than stellar appearance

Hair/Skin Color: Mauve/pink hair, mint green skin, small orange horns normally surrounded by teased hair, 5’8, plus sized and proud/ a thin scar runs from her hairline to the bridge of her nose diagonally down to the left; a giant, nasty scar runs the length of her torso from neck to navel, matching an identical scar along her back, she tries to hide them by tying corset lacing patterns every few days along the length of the wounds

Relationship with Beej?:

- Movie!Beej: - Calls him “Dead Man” or “ATM” for kicks. Enjoys him as a client because he pays well and knows just how to sweet-talk her into giving him a discount on private dances. She pretends to fuss about it, but doesn’t mind in the long run, since he always makes it worth her while. He’s much nicer than her usual clientele and doesn’t treat her like a complete ditz, despite it being her “character” during her sets on stage. He’s one of the very select clients she’ll sleep with, as she’s more akin to a “hostess” in a club rather than a prostitute. She loves the fact she can be a complete brat and snark off to him, and he just loves it. He’s also the only one she’ll drink with while on and off the job, because she is a party girl and goddamn if he isn’t a party. Beej is one of the few people outside of the other girls at the club that knows how she ended up on the other side, as she changes the story every time to keep clients from being too nosy.

-Musical!Beej: - Calls him “Honey Bunny” and nothing else. Thinks he is the cutest, most adorable demon to walk into the Inferno Room. Immediately perks up when he visits during her shifts, even more when he books private time with her because most of the time is spent making each other laugh in the middle of intimacy. They’re both very handsy when they’re together, sharing a mutual touch-starved affection with each other. Poppy doesn’t find herself on par with the other girls of Dante’s and hesitates to initiate physical contact with patrons. However, she will drop whatever she is going to at least go over and greet Beej before going back to work and considers him her special VIP client. The two of them have been spied occasionally partying outside the Inferno Room together on her nights off, often in the midst of causing mischief and mayhem upon the unsuspecting Neitherworld citizens. He was the first one to get her to “loosen up” after her untimely death.

Clothing Style:

- On Stage: bright 80s lace realness, legwarmers, tulle skirts, THE WORKS

- Working the Floor: tight athletic wear “Physical” video glam, the only fabric in the world to dance with is LYCRA

-Office/Off Duty Wear: casual 80s preppy vibe, oversized jackets with dresses, polo shirts with popped collars, handkerchief skirts

Backstory:

The summer of ‘88 was not turning out the way Poppy Remington expected.

Not only did her father temporarily cut off her only source of income, but the only way to get it back was to work a job during the summer to prove she could be a responsible adult. For a few months, at least, her father wasn’t expecting miracles. The only short-term notice job available was working the local overnight camp as a counselor, which she reluctantly agreed to take at her friends’ urging. They were all going to work there that summer.

Supposedly.

On the night before they would set off for camp, the group decided to throw one last bash before they were shackled with the responsibility of making sure children didn’t get themselves killed in some horrible accident. One of her best friends had the idea to use the yard outside of the abandoned sawmill for the party. It was out of the way with no chance of being bothered by the cops.

Which meant, naturally, that when things started to go downhill, there was no way out for the unsuspecting adults.

The 2x4 shook violently with the force of her grip, splinters digging into her palms as she shifted the weight of the weapon backwards. Ahead of her, the open door of the sawmill swung wide open as if to taunt her; beckoning her to make a run for it while the room was clear. There was no possible way the crazed “Mill Murderer” could have made it from the farmhouse to the mill ahead of her. He was knocked prone on the kitchen floor with a swift blow to the back of his masked head.

Poppy licked her chapped lips, glancing at the body of her – now ex- boyfriend, shorn in half by the supposedly broken lumber saw. She had told him to wait for her before going to check out the sawmill, but like the idiot he was, Chad decided to play macho man and go tearing through the grounds like the energizer bunny.

“Ugh, you were so cute, but so stupid.” She muttered to the body, kicking off her high heels in preparation to bolt out the door.

In a flash, Poppy sprinted toward the other side of the sawmill, focused on nothing else but reaching the running police car outside.

Of course, that meant she wasn’t paying attention to the ground, causing her to trip over some unfortunate victim’s severed arm and tumble headfirst to the ground. She managed to land on her arms but hit her head on a small pile of discarded lumber scraps. Her face felt like it was on fire, already feeling the blood seep out of the gash that spread from her hairline to her nose.

Poppy tried to stand, managing to get halfway up on her own before being helpfully pulled up and off her feet by a large, gloved hand. Screaming in anger, she swiped at the masked killer, trying to find some vulnerable part of him to attack.

Was he waiting for her to run? Did he plant the arm there as a trap?

The Mill Murderer carried Poppy by the throat as she struggled, back to a corner of the room she hadn’t explored before now. Trying to turn her head and see their destination, her eyes widened as she saw the ridiculously convenient, oversized table saw just waiting to be used. Doubling her efforts, Poppy tried to dislodge herself from his grip, and dug her nails into a bit of skin that was exposed under his gloves.

He howled in pain, tossing her away from him like an angry cat-

-right on top of the dormant sawblade.

Poppy felt the serrated, rusty blade digging into her back, unaware of just how deep the tool had impaled itself within her. Maybe it was the shock, maybe she was fueled by pure spite and an unwillingness to give up so easily, but something was keeping her alive. Even though she spit a mouthful of blood at him as he loomed above her, tilting his head as though impressed that she was lasting so long. People only bled out of their mouths like that when their lungs and esophagus were thoroughly punctured.

Not wanting to risk this angry woman gaining a second wind, he quickly slammed her torso further down onto the blade, watching it sever a line down the middle of her chest before she stopped squirming around. He waited a few moments before gathering himself and shuffling out of the sawmill: that was definitely a victim worth writing about in his journal.

--

Poppy stared angrily into the mirror, wincing as she pulled the neon pink thread through the tender skin of her chest. Just a few more stitches and she would be ready to go, already hearing the halfway mark of the performer’s show currently on stage. She was next, despite her best efforts to change to a later time slot, and now had to do a rush job on her sewing.

At least she had gotten Madame to sew up her back earlier that day. It was hell trying to stitch backwards in a mirror. Most of the other girls shied away from such a gruesome task, but she could always count on Madame to help her without complaint. It was embarrassing to even need such care and attention, and Poppy did her best to make up for her physical flaws but working extra hard behind the scenes of the Inferno Room.

Tying a cute, knotted bow at her collarbone, she snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before wrapping her lace bustier around her torso, snapping it into place. Her favorite acid-wash denim jacket was next, sliding across her shoulders like a comforting blanket. The scar on her face could be hidden with makeup and clever hair styling; small favors she had learned to appreciate the longer she performed.

Poppy leaned forward into the mirror, checking for any lipstick stains on her pointed teeth, “Just one set, and then we’re all his for the night.”

Thinking about him made all of her efforts seem inconsequential, already picking out the flaws in her stitching from under the lace of her top. She could have taken a little more care with them… and maybe she needed more volume in her hair? Tonight was a bad night for mousse. What was the point of having limp, lifeless hair when her favorite was coming to see her? Would he think she didn’t care? Or that she wasn’t good enough anymore and he would seek companionship elsewhere?

She barely acknowledged her five-minute warning, waving the stage manager off with a huff, too focused on trying to blend out part of the scar that touched the bridge of her nose.

[heir-of-talon]

So I have commissioned these busts of the characters. I will post a bust of the person whose POV the chapter is written in ❤ Some may be spoilery but hey! It's just fanfiction 😉

HEIR OF TALON 2

Warnings: explicit/underage/violence

Summary:

After slaying Elder Wyrm and becoming CEO of Talon Ember works very hard. Slowly changes are creeping in, that threaten her relationships with Garret and Riley, her sense of self and her sanity.

Life at the top

Ember

I woke up with a yelp. The bed sheets and my shirt were rumpled and soaked through with sweat. I reached for a glass of water on the night stand and drank trying to wash away tightness in my throat tasting salt of my tears mingling with contents of the glass. It was just another nightmare I tried to calm myself, but at this point I had little doubt that these were true. As was ensuing weeks of captivity, when Gerard found more and more horrid ways to torment Ember after he learned, that she could heal quickly from injuries that would have killed anybody else. His lord and his men, formed a group around her, torturing her and slowly learning her secrets... Bloodlettings so they could bathe in her blood and become resistant to harm and disease. She has suffered it all without even feeling tempted to shift, because there inside her... a spire, only remaining reality of her happiness, of their destiny. No, she could still salvage him, she would endure and once he was out of her body she would shift and fly them both away to safety, to another world if need be, there was nothing she would not do for him, her little Dante. Her love though betrayed so cruelly have found new anchor and she would preserve.

And then... birth of their child, ten men with swords and kludges awaiting, hitting her, bleeding her and Gerard... he tossed his son into flames right after he nearly ripped him from her body amid her agonizing cries.

Hatred. All consuming, all destroying all mighty. She shifted and ripped them apart limb for limb, the men, the women, the children, anyone within the vicinity of the estate. She had nothing left for humans, the vile, cruel, mindless creatures...

These dreams always filled me with grief and despair. But I was not her. Or was I? Sometimes I was not sure anymore. I would better get up, it was going to be another long day.

Vipers were resisting my changes to the organisation and demanded to be allowed to form their own organization apart from Talon, my bare ass! I tossed my shirt aside and hurried to bathroom where I laid down in the bathtub and turned the water on. As warm water crept higher and higher covering my body I relaxed and garish details of the nightmare started to fade. My thoughts were sharp and clear again. No way I was going to relinquish control of Vipers, I will sooner get them all killed. But how do you do this exactly? The only way is to get them to kill one another and then maybe set the last one up to a surprise date with the Order? This would require some serious diversion though, to make sure they accept the orders and don't figure out the game too soon... Hmm maybe later, as the last instance, for now I would rather regain their obedience. Hot water have filled the tub to the brim and I ceased to think giving up to the utter delight of being submerged in relaxing warmth.

***

"Autumn and Cobalt are here to see you ma'am" my assistant's Rose voice sounded through intercom. "Let them in" I grunted, not at all happy. After momentary relief in the bath I have developed a nasty headache and painkillers did not really work on dragons. I was not sure if dragons should have headaches, I have not been sick one hour of my entire life before I have become CEO of Talon.

"Hello Firebrand, you look positively awful, what the hell happened to you?" Riley strode to my office and unceremoniously sat on a chair in front of my enormous desk pulling another chair closer and indicating for Autumn to sit next to him. This irritated me, I was the CEO, this was my office and he come without notice and behaved as he owned everything here. "I had a hard night" I said slowly "so this better be important" I gave them a tight smile.

"It's about my egg" Autumn said. "It's in hatchery now, and I don't want my baby to hatch there. I want him to be born free, not to spend his childhood in an isolated facility being drilled by Talon like we did." She talked calmly and was obviously at ease, while her ridiculous request literally made me seething inside. I waited till she was finished and replied. "How do you imagine to hatch a dragon egg and then rear a hatchling, unable to shift for two years and to stay reliably shifted for another ten in the middle of human society?" I asked calmly. "How are you going to feed it until it can shift? How are you going to avoid it being seen?". Autumn stared at me surprised by coldness in my voice.

"Easy Firebrand, this is why we came here. To find alternative solutions for these... challenges" Riley's voice was calm but he was now watching me with slightly narrowed eyes and I could hear him thinking hard. But I could not let Autumn take that egg away. These four eggs was all the organization had left. We've sustained substantial loses when the laboratory exploded, every dragon counted for survival of our race. "We were thinking about it for quite a while actually. There's four eggs that need to be reared. There probably won't be any new for some time now, as Talon's members will no longer be forced to mate and dragons breed extremely rarely on their own volition, being immortal, territorial and such. So we just need to provide these four hatchlings with a place to be in two years. It should not be that difficult..." "Oh you've got it all figured out, don't you!?" I cut him off. I was furious at his shortsighted sentimentality. "And who is going to provide these hatchlings with education and training? Their mothers, who's never set their foot outside of the breeding facility?!" Autumn looked as if I've hit her, but I didn't care. These hatchlings were important for the organization, now that the vessel program was abandoned. If they were raised outside of the organization will any of them wish to serve it? Will they even be suitable for our purposes? "What are you talking about?" Riley was furious now. "They will be instructed and influenced by our entire community. Just because you won't have total control over every moment of their lives, doesn't mean they will not turn out just fine". He took stunned Autumn by her hand and rose to his feet. "Come, we've must have caught ma'am CEO on a bad day." And then to me. "Do not think that you've heard the last of it Firebrand. This is important, this is the freedom we've been fighting for all this time. And I will not relent, just because you get to be the boss now!" He left with scared Autumn in tow leaving me to my headache and grim thoughts.

I pressed intercom button. "Rose? I am taking off the rest of the day. Tell the Archivist to schedule new date for meeting with Vipers" "Yes, ma'am." I dragged myself out of the office and staggered when the heat and sunshine of the day outside hit me. I could not remember being out in a middle of a day. Ruling Talon was consuming all my time and energy and throughout last few months I begun to see the point of the control and discipline within the organization, as dealing with Riley's rouges, Jade and other free spirits was clearly the most annoying part of my new situation. I could not remember the drive home. To a vast top floor apartment furnished by Rose to impress an empress as she has phrased it. I had no time to interfere and only added piles of discarded clothes to the setting. And these were cleared every day by a maid. So I entered my lavish suite kicked off my ballerinas, flopped on white leather sofa and closed my eyes.

***

I woke up with a start that made it clear, that my headache was still there. It was evening and someone was knocking on my door. I insisted on no Gilas in the building I lived in, just as I insisted on living among normal, if wealthy people, rather than in a fancy all Talon apartment complex few blocks from the HQ. Now I was suddenly reluctant to open the doors. "Ember?! Are you in there?" Garret. I sighed and dragged myself to the doors. "Hello commander" I tried to smile. "Come in and fix this shitty day". He did not smile just stepped over the threshold taking in my surely messy hair, crumpled suit and tired face. "What is wrong?" He asked dropping his duffel bag at the doors and pulling me into strong embrace. I closed my eyes breathing him in and feeling my headache and confusion melting away. But after a way too brief moment he pushed himself away to arms length and looked into my eyes. "What is going on Ember? You look so tired. And you missed the meeting today, the Archivist would not tell us anything, but Rose told me you went home feeling unwell so I come to check up on you."He said. "Wait a minute. What meeting?!" I felt an ugly suspicion rising. "Meeting with Vipers." He looked surprised and worried that I would ask. "The Archivist spoke in your name and got them in line, no worries. They are allowed to leave the organization under a long list of conditions, that shortly sums up to not killing, assaulting or terrorizing anyone ever and attending monthly meetings with their rehabilitation supervisors, new units consisting of one Talon employee and one Order's employee. Of course the agreement is only valid after you've approved it. From the looks on their faces no one is leaving for some time." He smiled to his thoughts.

I had plans for Vipers and this was not exactly what I would have gone for. I should be furious about Archivist bypassing me like that. But somehow it did not matter much. No, when Garret was here I was just relieved and thankful that things were taken care of. Suddenly I could breath freely and I thought that if only I could stay in his arms long enough I would heal and become whole again, the way I was before leaving Talon and the violent time that followed. I leaned in to kiss him and he answered crushing me to his chest. Then he lifted his head again and asked "Have you eaten?" Seemingly abandoning the topic of my bad looks. "No, I slept since noon. " Suddenly I could feel how hungry I was but at the same time I did not want to release him. "How about we order some tapas and eat here?" I pointed to the couch. He peered down at me and truly smiled for the first time since he saw me and I had a hard time trying to stay focused. There was my Garret, this intoxicating mixture of desire and disbelief in his gray eyes. "Give me a second to change, make yourself at home commander. Maybe order food, I want wine boiled chorizo, meat balls with tomato sauce and bacon wrapped dates big pile of each."

I winked at him and rushed to my bedroom and beyond to the walk in closet the size of an average apartment on Manhattan, as the real estate agent described it. There I quickly shed my office clothes and changed into oversized multicolor sweatpants and a knitted crop top. I turned and felt sudden apprehension about going back to the living room. My headache was on its way back and I just wanted to run as far away from Garret as possible, I sat on a chaise long in the middle of the closet. The boy was a nuisance putting it mildly, making me reckless and weak. The thoughts popped in and out of my head along with a passing stab of migraine until I heard his voice coming from somewhere close.

"Ember?" I exited the closet and found him standing at the doorstep to my bedroom. He quickly stepped outside, when he saw me, and I rushed to grab his hand. He sent me that worried look again. "Are you all right?" "Yes, was just changing." He looked me over doubtfully. "Food is here." He said. "Wow, that was fast." I chuckled slightly confused.

We ate talking about things we've been doing since we've last seen each other almost a month before. Garret got in touch with Order's Academy and tried to persuade them to provide much needed reinforcements sooner, than they meant it was possible. More and more survivors of Night of Fang and Fire surfaced all around the world and it was difficult to maintain his position as their leader. I sat buried neck-deep in documentation on Talon, that the Archivist deemed best suited to give me insight and understanding of Talon. I was also struggling to establish satisfactory level of authority. In other words both our lives sucked badly and we could not see the end of it. Afterwards I turned on some music and we went to the couch. Garret sat down in one corner and I nestled between his legs leaning sideways against his chest. I wanted to touch him, kiss him talk some more.

***

"Ember, better go to bed it's past eleven." Garret was shaking my arm lightly. Have I fallen asleep? Again!? "Don't leave me!" I blurted. "Stay with me Garret". He shifted under me. "My leg is sleeping. " He said and tried to stretch. "Let's go to bed then." I rose and he followed collecting his bag from the floor by the doors. I pointed him to guest bathroom and hurried to my own to brush my teeth. Then I slipped into the closet to change into shorts and oversized t-shirt with Toothless serving as pajamas. As soon as I slipped them on I rushed out and waited for Garret in the hall. He come out soon wearing only black boxer shorts, he was lean and tan, his hair bleached by the sun.

I felt my stomach twist with longing and dread, at the sight of him. I wanted him so much, yet I did not feel fit for passionate lovemaking. I was tired and haunted, Talon required things of me, that I doubted, he would accept. Going on like this was a torment for both of us, but we could not see any alternatives right now and I would not accept ending the relationship either. Garret was the only ray of sun in my existence, he loved me and I needed him, completely and desperately. Around him I was myself, battered and wan but myself, when he was gone I did not know who I was anymore.

I strode to him and hugged him tightly, which he returned with a purr. Then I caught his eyes and said solemnly "Garret I love you and I want to be close, but I have not been feeling well lately... And I know, that we don't see each other much, but I can't go all the way tonight. Actually I... might not want to do anything tonight" I felt lame, but he brushed hair off my temple, his expression soft. "It's okay. We are not obliged to do anything Ember. Let's get you to bed." He lifted me up and carried me to my bed, that was neatly made with fresh linens. He put me on the floor and lifted the comforter for me to crawl in. I laid down obediently and patted the pillow next to me. Garret slid under the covers beside me and the warmth of his body engulfed me as he put his arm around me and turned the bed lamp off. In the relative darkness of my bedroom with Garret so close all worries and problems seemed insubstantial, only his heartbeat was real, only the scent of his body and the warmth of his skin mattered. For the first time in weeks I fell into deep dreamless sleep.

[catyo90]

Dante x Reader: Get away from Her (Post DMC5)

You looked around, your breath heavy from all of the fights you had just handled. You stood as strong as you could as you leaned against your sword stuck in the ground. All around you multiple demons, injured but still far too may for you to continue. Your legs started to shake as you looked behind you to see the portal that Nero went through to bring back both Dante and Vergil out of hell. You looked up to see Trish and Lady fighting as best they could but even you could tell that they were just as exhausted. You gripped the hilt of your sword raising it with both your arms shaking. You saw a few demons jumped at you, you managed to slide underneath them twisting your body around to cut them in half. You groaned as you felt your blood flowing down your right arm and left leg each with a gash or two. 

You stabbed the ground with your sword and sat down in front of it, leaning your back against it you pulled out two handguns, Lady and Trish looked behind and saw you pull out ammo for each and set your gaze on the horde. You pulled the trigger making a bright white bullet shoot from each gun hitting entire rows of demons. Trish who was helping Lady to her feet wrapping her arm around her shoulder. You looked over the horde to see Nico with the Van behind pulling out a new invention to fight with. You fired one more shot down the center. This blast much bigger than the last two making a clear path toward the van. Trish turned around to see you give a weak smile as you returned to shooting the horde.  

You watched as Trish carried Lady to the van to see Nico shooting Lady’s Missile Launcher. Nico got in the Van blaring the horn causing some of the demons to leave and run after them. You hissed at the pain in your leg and arm. But you still had a reason to fight. For Him. Always for Him.

After hours of you trying to keep up with these horrid demons still shooting them with still too many of them to kill altogether. You felt all of the ammo in one gun empty, you looked at the ammo in your gun.

“...3.”

You glared at a few of the demons to hear them snarl and growl. You weakly stood up as you grabbed your sword in the other hand. You raised it above your head and struck at the ground killing most of them that were charging toward you were knocked back. You held up your gun once more.

‘huff....2...”

You saw the bullet rush through the horde turning into white flames. Burning in the fire many let out cries of pain and roars of anger. You raised the sword on your shoulder and your body started to have a white aura around it. Your body felt as light as a feather as your eyes were glazed over with your sword glowing along with you. 

“Army of One!”

You yelled out to have your body move faster than light through the entire horde. Every strike hurting your arm but you didn’t care. Like a bolt of lighting, you had rushed through each and every one of them as the pain grew worse with every second. You watched as the hundreds to thousands of demons fell to your blade as you cut into the ground. You halted in front of the portal to the sound and feel of the ground rumbling. A flash of light took over the area as you looked to see multiple demons dead in their tracks and in a petrified state. You sighed as you dropped your blade, your body returning to its normal form. Suddenly you felt a sharp pain as you fell to the ground. Your breathing got heavier as you looked around to see the discarded remains of the demons reforming. 

“Damn it...”

You pulled out your handgun to see only one bullet left. You smirked as you held it up into the sky shooting it giving off a beacon in the sky. You felt your whole body give up as you felt the wounds you had received still hurt.

“Sorry, Dante...”

You felt your eyes grow heavy as the last ounce of strength left your body making you fall onto the cold hard floor. You could see the demons around drawing closer to you. So this was to be your fate?...

-

“GET AWAY FROM HER! YOU BASTARDS!!”

You heard Dante yell as he jumped out through the portal. For you time slowed as you watched his gaze meet yours. His signature red cloak and white hair blowing in the air as he held both his pistols in each hand crossing them over each other. You saw his face turn to one of anger and disgust as he started to shoot a rain of bullets on the rest of the demons. You felt your body lightly turned over onto your back to see Nero overlooking your wounds.

‘Damn Y/n, We owe you one.”

You looked toward the portal seeing Vergil walking out of it with his blade drawn. He looked quite pissed as well, he may not have been fond of humans but he did respect you as a fighter. Once he came into the scene you saw the portal close as the loud blaring of a horn from over the horizon and the sound of explosions and the call of Nico.

“Come on yall, Let’s finish this!”

Vergil simply about his leg forward into a samurai stance. He became nothing but a blue blur as he ran through each of them slicing limbs off and killing as many demons as he could. Nico drove the van on the edge of the horde holding out one arm with a pistol, Lady and Trish were on the roof each with their preferred weapon, both of them had multiple bandages but clearly prepared this time as you watched them jump off the van into the horde. You looked to Nero who simply smiled as he tore his jacket and tied it over your wounds to stop the bleeding. You saw him look to his left to see Dante running over to you sliding against the ground to end up next to you, piles of demons laying on the ground dead behind him from his wrath. Nero gently offered you to him.

‘Careful...careful.”

Dante took you in his arms as Nero branded his sword revving the hilt as he started to teleport between the horde and to Vergil each working off the other. 

You looked at everyone fighting an couldn’t help but smile to see the oddest and strangest of friends any could have. You weakly turned your head to Dante bringing a hand to his cheek. Feeling the stubble below your touch made you giggle. Two years. Two years it had been since the last you saw each other. He looked like he hadn’t aged a day. Tears started to form in your eyes and you spoke.

“Dante...Your back...your back”

Your voice cracked as tears started to flow down your face as you saw him bring a hand to yours while he brought you closer to him making him able to place his forehead against yours. He breathed heavily as the feeling of your touch made him realize he was back. Two years stuck with his difficult brother and almost friendlier demons and all that time non-stop fighting and wanting to see you again. He sighed as he closed his eyes, blissfully enjoying this moment with you back in his arms hearing him speak after so long. 

“I found you...”

You smiled as the cries of demons falling to their demise as the sky turned brighter with you holding onto Dante for dear life. He brought his hand under your chin to meet his gaze, quickly followed by the most passionate kiss you had ever been given by him. Love, Hope, and Compassion all in one was behind this kiss as you felt him holding you even closer. You felt your exhaustion finally fully take over you as you closed your eyes and felt your body relax under his touch. it felt like your breath was being taken away and he desperately devoured your lips as he brought a gentle hand to the side of your face. You both pulled back but still close to regaining your breath. 

“I’m never leaving your side again.”

Dante said as he held you against his chest both of you smiling at being reunited after so long. You smiled.

“Damn right your not.”

Dante chuckled.

‘That’s my girl.”

[etlunainmorte]

“Any last words, Little Lamb?”

The tears just fell and your heart ached awfully.

The entity, who, apparently, was loyal only to its real “Master”, has brought you involuntarily to the death’s door. You knew there was no turning back.

You bowed down low, letting your tears fall on the ground. Controlling your sobs, you looked up and glanced into his empty bloodshot eyes one last heart - wrenching time, and let out the words you so wanted to tell him for the last ten years,…

The massive heart of the Dreadnought pulsated weakly in response to your dying heart. With a soft voice, you whispered your feelings, pouring out all of the emotions and frustrations that piled up over the years of being controlled by the entity.

“I love you, V.”

For a moment, the man let the sword down, seemingly conflicted with something. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he started chortling, a bit soft, at first. Then it gradually became louder as he slicked his dark locks and threw his head back.

Your heart felt like it just shattered into a million pieces at the same time that the massive heart of the Dreadnought lost its radiance.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pain.

With a deep sigh, V raised the Yamato above his head, gripping its hilt with his weak, trembling hands and pointing it to your stomach.

His thirst taking hold of his entire being and engulfing what little humanity he had left, he declared with every inch of the true Devil within him,

“I choose,… POWER!”

***

I See My Future Before Me - Alternate Endings

***

***

You could hardly believe everything that happened that one, fateful day. V, who gained a great deal of power from the three Sisters of Fate, Cassandra, Andromeda, and Galatea, revealed that he was none other than Vergil, himself: Dante's twin brother who was thought to be dead. 

And with this insane amount of power, all of his wounds did not only heal. He gained his true form, as well.

However, what shocked you the most was not V revealing who he really was.

It was when he finally revealed his true intentions to everyone.

Searching for a great power to defeat Dante, and searching for an even greater one to keep his weak and fragile, mortal form, void of its all powerful Demonic half, intact without a single care of any of the consequences,...

It was,... too much for your own heart to bear.

The moment he agreed to the pleas of the powerless Lamb, Galatea, to set you free in order to receive the other entities that kept you alive and immortal for a long time, he,... has merely forgotten about you.

Well, he still knew you. He knew (Y/N) (L/N).

What he forgot were his feelings towards you,... when he was still V. From the ashes of those feelings he had for you when he was still in the fragile and vulnerable form of the poet and Summoner known simply as V, the adoration, the admiration, the glimpses of what could be considered as love, rose a man as cold as the winter evening. A warrior that was even stronger than Mundus, himself. From the remnants of the man you loved and would love until your dying breath, a Devil, who would never, ever love you in return, not while he's still alive, not even after his death, and not in a million years, was born.

His name,...

... was Vergil Sparda,...

After mercilessly killing Pandemonium of Destruction, the Demon behind the Dreadnought, and Lord Fleminger, the man behind all the insidious plans, the man descended to the Underworld and made his name known to all who dwelled in it. He overthrew its former ruler, Mundus, and murdered what remained of his three powerful loyal servants and their armies - Bedlam of Insanity, and Maelstrom of Calamity. He searched every nook and cranny of the foul place, murdering all who dared to lift even a single finger against him, until the only ones who were left were those who were unable to fight. Sitting on the throne that used to belong to Mundus, with the bloodstained Yamato on his hand, he ruled over them,...

... and what remained of humanity after his onslaught.

Humans and Demons alike were powerless against him. With Dante, the one hope, the one ray of light for the weak, gone, also by his twin brother's own hand, you, or Galatea, who remained by your side through this genocide and all this heartbreaking tragedy, could not do anything against him.

And you, being a weak human, were spared by Vergil. It was,... an act of mercy from the new King, the one Alpha and Omega, who ruled all. You had no other choice but to follow him as his servant and do all of his bidding.

However, there came a time when Vergil needed all of the Sisters of Fate back.

He needed Galatea.

But, why?

"Sparda." Vergil simply told you that one day as you stood and humbled yourself before him. "I could not find Sparda, even with Cassandra's guidance. I need the Past, the Present, and the Future by my hand in order to locate him. I need the weapons to find their forger."

"My Lord," You uttered, as meekly as you could, as you avoided his cold, cold eyes. " ... may I ask why you need to find Sparda?"

"FOOL!" His word cut through your heart and through the deafening silence of the room like a hot blade against ice. "Do you think I would stop after spilling blood all over this land? Until I find and kill the Last Knight, I would never be able to completely rule over this world!"

"He's,... " You stuttered, then took a deep breath. You had to remind yourself that he would never lift a finger against you. But that was only due to the fact that you still have Galatea within you. "But, he's your f - father,..."

Vergil did not say anything. Instead, he stood up from his throne and came down towards you. Step by loud, frightening step, he descended, until he was mere inches from you.

Only then did he make you look at him by forcefully  propping your chin up with the hilt of the Yamato.

"You have no right to deny what's rightfully mine." He spoke, his rage seething, his anger overwhelming you. "You are but a mere, disposable vessel who kept my weapons safe. I have looked upon you with merciful eyes, spared you, and protected you against the malice of these,... foul creatures.

"I now humbly ask this of you,... before it is too late." The man, then, removed the Yamato from you and unsheathed it, pointing the blade at you as a final warning. "I demand you to give what is rightfully mine. Do it,... for the sake of the man you love, worship and adore."

Your voice may falter, your knees may wobble, and your heart may fall apart. Despite that, you,...

... would never let him win.

Not this time.

"The man I love, worship, and adore," You declared with utter resolution as you slowly looked up at Vergil's eyes. " ... IS DEAD!"

***

@la-vita and @clevermentalitybeliever .

***

Before Vergil could even retaliate, the woman, that he once loved, worshipped, and adored when he was still a weak and fragile poet, raised the metal cane that he thoughtlessly discarded when he finally gained the power he sought, and let Galatea, the most powerful of the three Sisters of Fate, possess it.

Casting an unbelievable and powerful form of light that blinded Vergil, the metal cane radiated warmth and gave the woman enough power to do one last bravery to end his tyranny. Calling upon those three discarded thoughts that once helped Vergil in his time of need, she was able to push the evil man away with the sheer light that emanated from the cane.

With the last ounce of Galatea's power, the discarded thoughts of Vergil's past formed into a majestic bird, a ferocious tiger, and a massive golem that lent an even greater power to the metal cane in the woman's hand.

And with the last ounce of her strength and what probably remained of her own life force, she drove the metal cane to Vergil's chest.

Push after agonizing push, the woman drove the cane deep into his chest, the sheer sensation of it tearing her own heart apart.

Tearing her own emotions apart.

With the voices of those incarnated thoughts that urged her to end this evil, all of those memories of the past came cascading down upon her as Vergil's breathing slowly ceased.

Of her running away from him, of her being rejected by him. Of her simply walking with him, of her excitedly talking with him. Of her smiling at him, of her being smiled back by him,...

... of her dancing with him on that moonlit Grecian balcony, and of her seeing him after ten long years of searching.

After a hundred years worth of waiting,...

Oh, how it hurt,...

... it hurt so much.

Ending the man she loved above all else,...

... it hurt so, so much.

As the light of the cane ebbed away, the woman pulled it from his chest and threw it away. She kneeled and took his almost limp body. As his battered eyelids fluttered and his bloodstained mouth formed incomprehensible phrases, the two Sisters, Cassandra and Andromeda, left his body and disappeared like ashes in the wind, never to be seen again. Then, Galatea, along with the three discarded thoughts, appeared one last time before her, saying their farewells, and disintegrated into nothingness, leaving her with the man who was dying because of her.

And the man? Slowly, slowly,...

... he turned back into the man he once was.

Silver eyes slowly turning into green ones, white hair becoming longer, and muscular frame morphing into that familiar weak form,…

He changed back into the mysterious man called V,...

It was in this pitiful state of sorrow and hopelessness when the Last Knight Sparda finally made himself known to the woman.

Crying, worn down, and void of happiness, he found her there, cradling the lifeless body of the man she loved.

His own son.

She looked up at him with gladness as if he was her last hope.

"Forgive me." The Last Knight spoke. "For allowing you to bear all this pain. For letting you carry this task alone. For allowing the prophecy to come into fruition. Forgive me."

The woman smiled at him as tears rolled down her beautiful, tired face.

"Let me join him, please." She uttered her last wish. "Give me,… peace."

And as Sparda raised his own weapon to oblige and allow her this one last act of kindness and mercy, the lullaby that softly came from  her lips rang in his ears until her last breath, haunting his soul forevermore,...

Wept for me, for thee, for all,

When He was an infant small.

Thou His image ever see,

Heavenly face that smiles on thee.

Smiles on thee, on me, on all,

Who became an infant small,

Infant smiles are His own smiles,

Heaven and earth to peace beguiles,...

***

[keeroo92]

Shirt Goblin

Sooo someone sent me a prompt and I spazzed out and forgot they specified a male reader. Consider this a bonus, I guess? *shrugs*

I have a different idea for the male version, should be ready soon!

Word count - 869

__________

Dante pulled away with a contented sigh, his nude body glittering with sweat. Fresh marks lined your neck and ribs and his seed warmed you from deep within. A satisfied smile adorned your face as you caught your breath after his energetic pounding. You’d probably be sore tomorrow, but you considered it a badge of honor to be reminded of his passion with every step.

“Damn, babe… where did that come from?”

You snickered, burying your face in the sheets as he collapsed beside you. He’d been gone for almost a week, off hunting demons with Nero or something. You knew better than to ask for details; it was enough that he came back safely.

“I missed you,” you replied.

He chuckled and rested a hand on your stomach, his signature way of maintaining the intimacy of contact even when the summer sun left you both too miserable to cuddle.

“Is that all I am, a good fuck?”

You rolled your eyes at his petulant tone and turned to face him, carefully keeping your inner muscles clenched to prevent any further messes. “You, my pizza-loving devil, are ridiculous.”

A flick on his cute nose emphasized your point and he smirked, rolling to face you. “Oh, really? I think you’re the ridiculous one here!”

His fingers grazed your ribs, right where he knew you were ticklish. You squirmed, arcing away from his teasing touches with a surprised squeal but he was too fast. Arms wrapped around you and his stubble replaced his fingers, mercilessly forcing you into fits of laughter.

“Okay, okay! You win! I surrender!” you gasped.

“That’s what I thought.”

Soft lips pressed against your shoulder and he stood, padding to the bathroom to wash up. The loss of his warmth left you shivering, goosebumps erupting across your forearms. Piles of discarded clothing dotted the less disturbed portions of the bed and you grinned as you spotted one of Dante’s comfortable tees.

The shower turned on, and you snuck a peek to see Dante checking the temperature. He’d be a while. Sure, you could join him, but the chance to wear his clothes was too appealing to pass up. He never left clothes at your place and you couldn’t blame him, considering your penchant for stealing them.

You smirked as you grasped the cloth.

On him, it hugged every bulge and valley of muscle like a second skin. It was one of your favorites and you took a deep sniff as you pulled it over your head. It billowed over your smaller body, a delightfully warm and comforting tent that felt like the man himself was hugging you.

“Is that my shirt?”

You shot him a sheepish glance and pulled the neckline over your chin, huddling in the fabric for warmth. “I got cold…”

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he brought over a small towel to clean you up. “I’m not getting that shirt back for a while, am I?”

“Nuh-uh!”

With the worst of the mess taken care of, you relaxed into the bed and nuzzled the aromatic fabric. His smell was perfect, warm and homey and masculine. Delicious. You missed it whenever he was away.

“If I promise to let you keep it after, would you join me for a rinse?”

His amused smirk and glittering eyes showed the sincerity of his offer and you hummed your agreement. Calloused hands lifted the shirt away and soft lips pressed against your forehead, his love replacing his clothes to keep you warm.

“Shirt goblin,” he teased.

You stuck your tongue out. “You’re just jealous cuz you can’t fit in my clothes.”

He nipped at your chin, his hands pulling you to his chest as he lifted. “And?”

There wasn’t much you could say to that. Damn. You settled for nuzzling into his shoulder as he carried you to the massive shower, only setting you down again when the water already flowed through your hair. The temperature was perfect and you moaned softly as it eased the chill. Gentle hands rubbed soap into your skin, caressing every inch like you were the most valuable treasure imaginable.

Once you were both cleansed, a fluffy towel materialized in his grip and he rubbed your hair and skin dry, dropping kisses on his favorite spots. The tenderness of his care turned you into a puddle of melted bliss, too content to care that soon enough he would leave you again. He always came back, but you missed him every second he was away.

“Ready for bed?” he asked, stripping away the soiled top sheet and bringing a fresh one to replace it.

You glared at him and crossed your arms. “Not without your shirt, I’m not.”

A rumbling chuckle and a rustle of fabric signaled his agreement as he tossed the requested article at you. You spluttered as it smacked you in the face, but you didn’t let it distract you. Seconds later, a pleased grin twisted your lips as you sniffed the cotton, climbing into bed and into Dante’s waiting arms.

“Seriously, though. You are a total shirt goblin,” he murmured.

You wiggled closer, burrowing into his embrace like a hamster. “You love it.”

“Damn straight, babe.”

[daemongal]

Hey all! So this will be my first writing post in far too long and, it’s completely self indulgent OC stuff so I apologise if it’s not what you expected but it’s literally all my block brain can muster right now and I wanted to write some cute Dante x Rin fluffsmut. I was actually ill at the time when I came up with this idea so yeah, gonna share my suffering with Rin here xD. Bit of light smut at the end but otherwise fluffy. Hope you enjoy my self indulgence please don’t hate me D:

******

Rin’s case of the sniffles

“Uuuuurgh.” Rin lay splayed in the bed, wing twitching at her side. She reached to grab a tissue, blowing her nose inelegantly as Dante stood in the doorframe, arms crossed across his chest.

“What’re you looking at? Who was the one that told me ‘human ailments don’t affect us demons’, huh?” She sniffled, groaning in discomfort at her runny nose.

“Woah, don’t blame this on me.” Dante threw up his arms in a mock surrender before moving to sit on the end of the bed. “I’m the only example I have to to go off, and I’ve never had the sniffles. I told you it wasn’t a good idea to go near that sick looking kid but you didn’t listen.” Rin pouted at his words, turning to face the pillow in defiance.

“Not my fault he was all sad and looked like he needed a hug.” She sighed, passing a glance over to her wing as it fluttered slightly, pulling another groan from her, not going unnoticed by Dante.

“What’s up? You look like it’s annoying you for some reason.”

“It’s itchy and I can’t be bothered to move so I’m just gonna keep complaining until it stops.”

“You know that’s not gonna work, right?

“It might…” she spoke between heavily pouted lips. Dante chuckled as he moved closer to her, running his hand soothingly against her arm. “It’s overdue a preening, but it’s too much effort for me right now,” she sighed, pushing her head into the pillow, “jus’ wanna sleep…”

“Preening like uhh… birds do, I’m assuming?”

“Mhmm, loose feathers and all that. You’d think demons would work differently but no.” The wing twitched again, a black feather falling slowly to the floor as she kicked her feet slightly under the covers. Dante smiled warmly at the petulant display that he could only see as being cute.

“I mean, I could give you a hand. I feel like you’re not gonna get to sleep if it’s annoying you that much. Shouldn’t be a problem for “master with hands” Dante now should it?” Rin snorted into the pillow as she turned to face him, smiling back at his warm expression.

“That would be… really helpful actually. Thanks killer.” Rin slowly turned onto her front, shuffling so her wing was spread out against the other side of the bed, shedding her cover for easier access.

Dante threw off his coat, kicked off his boots and moved to sit next to the outstretched appendage.

“So… you’re gonna have to let me know how this works.” 

“Hmm, there isn’t really a method to it. Just run your fingers through it against the grain quite tightly and the loose one’s will just pop out. Ooh, if you use your claws it’ll be easier; the ridges will help.”

“Heh, they always do.” Rin snorted again at Dante’s words causing a cough to catch at the back of her throat.

“Uuuurgh, I hope this goes away by tomorrow. I dunno how humans deal with being sick for any longer, this is the worst.” Dante laughed lightly as he focussed on his hands, allowing the scales to spread to his elbow as his demonic claws took shape. 

Content with the part trigger he flexed his fingers and started following Rin’s instructions, carding his fingers through the first few rows of feathers towards the tips of the wing. Rin let out a pleased hum as she relaxed into the feeling.

“Never had anyone do this for me before. It feels… different… it’s nice.” Dante grinned as he started making a small pile of discarded feathers.

“Never knew you still had cherries to pop, Cupid.” Rin chuckled, eyes dropping closed as she enjoyed the relief from the irritation. Dante picked up a feather between his fingers, inspecting it. “So, what should I do with these when I’m done?” Rin shrugged her shoulders half heartedly.

“I dunno, keep em’ for your nest or something.” Dante tensed.

“What nest? I don’t nest.”

“Suuuuure you don’t. What about that pile of my clothes I found in the corner of your room that time?”

“I told you, the washing basket got knocked over and I didn’t get round to picking them back up.

“Dante, we both know you don’t own a washing basket.” Dante’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he plucked another feather free.

“Alright fine, but it was one time okay!” Rin simply grumbled in response before a light gasp escaped her lips as his claws ran over a particular spot.

“Yup, definitely feels different to when I do it. Doesn’t normally feel this… nice.” 

“Oh? Feels… nice does it?” Punctuating his last words, he tugged quite roughly at a patch while running his other claws through another. Rin’s back arched slightly at the rough handling as her arms wrapped around the pillow.

“Ngh, yeah it do-ahh-es.” She gripped tightly as she felt lips press against the sensitive wing joining on her back as a claw continued to card roughly through her wing. His teeth ever so slightly grazed the base of her wing causing her to moan, unable to hold back as it sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to her core.

“Hmm…” Dante chimed in, “thought you were tired?”

“Oh don’t start that, you know exactly what you’re doing. But… keep going… please.” Her back arched once more as he ran his tongue up her spine, kissing his way up her neck before nibbling lightly on her earlobe, never stopping the movement of his claw as he raked his way through the layers.

“You know I can’t say no to you sweetheart.” Rin gasped as a hand grazed against her between her legs, stroking and kneading as he nipped and sucked at her neck, arms gripping onto the pillow as her body is bombarded with sensations.

“Ngh Dante, don’t tease.” Grinning against her skin, he slipped his fingers under her pants, sliding them against her wet folds. She raised her hips, seeking out the friction, moaning as he circled her clit for a few moments before sinking his fingers into her heat. 

He curled them instantly, pressing against her sensitive spot as her legs trembled with each scrape of his fingers. The claw in her wing moved inwards, focussing on the more sensitive parts towards her back, tugging against the grain roughly. 

Rin whimpered into the pillow, discomfort and illness long forgotten over the myriad of pleasurable feelings she was being subjected to. His fingers were moving quickly, pushing in as far as he could with each thrust, focussing on that spot, enjoying how her body convulsed below him as her walls twitched around him.

“Hmm, so close already,” he whispered into her ear, “this must have really got you going.” Rin’s voice was reduced to muffled moans, whimpers and mutterings of Dante’s name as she gyrated her hips, the familiar coil close to snapping in her abdomen. 

Her body tensed as release hit her suddenly as claws dragged down her back against that sensitive spot, waves of pleasure spreading over her as she screamed Dante’s name. After riding against a few moments of oversensitivity her body relaxed, slumping back against the bed as he removed his fingers, placing gentle kisses over the slight welts developing on her back.

He left her to bask in the afterglow as he gathered up the feathers littering the bed into a pile, glancing over as Rin remained conspicuously quiet. He carefully leaned over, pulling her hair from her face, smiling as he saw her mouth hung open as she slept soundly. 

He quietly put the feathers into his bedside drawer, mumbling “don’t judge me” to himself  and pulled the blanket back up over her, planting a light kiss on her cheek, causing a little snore to escape her throat. He shifted his weight off the bed and left the room, quietly pulling the door closed behind him, sneaking one last glance at her resting form before shutting it.

[dylan-o-yumm]

I accidentally deleted the request this was for, but basically anon wanted some Nero in leather pants. This isn't smutty at all cause I needed a break from writing smut, so I'm sorry dear anon if this isn't what you wanted at all. 

You had shockingly been invited to Patty’s party. Shockingly because you had never met her before and suddenly you were getting a phone call, practically being yelled at by the high pitched girl to attend her 18th birthday party. You had heard a few stories of her through Dante, but never had the pleasure of actually meeting her face to face. Did he tell her of you? Surely, otherwise how else would she know you? 

Though excited, you were a little surprised when Dante called you the following day, asking who you were going to the party as. Odd, Patty didn’t mention it being a costume party. You listened to Dante ramble on about how he was going to dress up as a zombie, just to be able to scare the birthday girl. You obviously told him he was mean, but then he proceeded to tell you what everyone else from DMC was going dressed up as. 

Lady was going to be a fairy, Trish a nurse, and even Nico and Nero were going to get dressed up… Or so Dante told you. 

He was so convincing, the little shit. 

You walked into Patty’s house, marvelling at all the pink decorations, high ceilings and beautiful furniture. If you didn’t already feel out of place, having everyone immediately turn to look at you as you entered, definitely did the trick. There were so many people, all of which were in fancy suits or dresses, while you were standing awkwardly in the entry way dressed as a pirate.

Hook on your hand, sword on your belt, stuffed parrot on your shoulder — pirate. 

“Y/n!” A familiar voice calls out, snapping you out of your awkward daze of staring at how fancy everyone around you looked. You waved and smiled at the crowd, trying to seem like you didn’t just have the most embarrassing moment of your life before you glanced around to see who called you. You let out a sigh of relief when you saw Nico waving you over, a big goofy smile on her face. 

You quickly bow your head and cover your face with your hands as you make your way over to the artisan, fully aware that every single one of Patty’s friends saw you and your ridiculous costume. Not that it really mattered, not like you’d be seeing them ever again except maybe on the odd occasion when you’re out and about. Still didn’t help the heat rising to your entire face. 

“Hey! Lookin’ good, hot stuff. Dante put you up to this as well?” Nico chuckled and nudged your side playfully when you finally weaved your way through the crowd to stand next to her. Thankfully you didn’t stay as the centre of attention, everyone turned back to talk to their friends or dance to the not so loud, but not too quiet music. It wasn’t so often you got to listen to pop music, but that seemed to be what all of Patty’s friends liked. She was 18 after all. 

“Yeah I’m gonna kill him when he gets here — wait, what do you mean 'as well'?” You ask, noticing how Nico is also in quite fancy looking clothes. Well, fancy for her anyway. She wore tight, black pants and a loose fitting, mustard shirt. She looked pretty casual but very nice in your opinion. The sides of her shirt were cut low, which meant you could see quite a lot of her bra if she lifted her arms up, but honestly that was quite normal for what she usually wore. 

“Nero got the same message. Went and hid in the upstairs bathroom as soon as he got here.” Nico explained with a half smile on her face. You could tell she felt a little sorry for him but also wanted to laugh. You might have laughed as well if you weren’t dressed as a pirate. However, you knew exactly how he must be feeling and to be honest, you wanted to lock yourself in the bathroom too. 

“Nero’s in a costume, too?” You ask softly, as if he would somehow hear you and come storming down the stairs to pout directly in your face. You could never handle his adorable pout. You tried to imagine what he was dressed as, but every idea that popped in your head was immediately run over by the thought of ‘Nero would never’. 

“Go hava look for yourself” Nico nodded once in the direction of the stairs, cradling a drink that you have no idea where came from but you figured maybe you should have one. Some alcohol would probably make the whole situation much easier to deal with.  You decided finding Nero first was more important, hopefully you could coax him out from hiding to come and at least try to have a good time with you. 

You patted Nico’s shoulder and softly mumbled a goodbye as you made your way up the stairs. Patty’s house was amazing! Did she own it herself? Buy it herself? You had so many questions, like what was she working as to afford such a nice house. You had no idea Dante knew such wealthy people since he was always living in piles of old pizza boxes and bills that need yet to be payed. 

Upstairs was pretty quiet apart from a few people calmly chatting away along the halls, needing the quieter space away from all the people and music. There were a few rooms with closed doors, which meant you’d have to go knocking and possibly interrupting strangers, and you didn’t want anyone else having to witness what you were wearing. So you settled for calling out instead, leaning against each door and calling Nero’s name. 

“Y/n? What do you want?” You heard the ‘completely done with everything’ tone from Nero come from behind door number three that you checked. You knew not to take his tone and the way he said ‘you’ so personally, though it did sting a little. You leaned against the door and tried turning the handle, but as you expected, it was locked. 

“Hey, it’s just me. Can you let me in?” You ask softly, ignoring his tone. 

“Why, so you can laugh at me too? I never should have listened to Dante…” He replied in a huffy tone. You sighed, fiddling with the sword on your hip. 

“I’m not gonna laugh, just please open the door.” You tried again, keeping your voice calm and sweet so he didn’t think you were trying to mess with him. And thankfully, after a few long seconds of silence, the lock clicked and you could turn the handle. You made sure to open the door slightly so you could squeeze in without anyone around you being able to see in, having to turn your body awkwardly to do so. 

Once the door was closed again, you made sure to lock it before you turned around. And the sight before you was something you never expected to witness in your life. Nero didn’t seem to mind that you were staring at him with wide eyes because he was doing the same to you, obviously surprised to see you also in a costume unlike everyone else downstairs. 

Nero was wearing a flowy, white shirt that was ripped and torn all along the sleeves and along the hem, as if he had been attacked by a horde of demons before he got here. His hair was spiked, like usual but more so somehow and he wore tight, leather, black pants. If it weren’t for the fake blood along the rips of his shirt or the discarded fangs left on the sink, you wouldn’t have guessed he was a werewolf. But since this was Nero, you were impressed since he was never one for dressing up for halloween or anything. 

“I mean, if this were a costume party, I’d be impressed” You smile shyly as you look the handsome devil hunter up and down. His pants were gripping his thighs so nicely you had to tear your eyes away so it didn’t seem like you were staring. He too was staring at you but you didn’t think for the same reasons, nothing about your costume was considered attractive so he had nothing to stare at except your ridiculous outfit for a party that just so happens to not be a costume party. 

Nero vaguely gestured to you and found it difficult to form a proper sentence. Perhaps you weren’t going to laugh at him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to laugh at you. Maybe staying downstairs with Nico would’ve been the safer option. However, when you thought he was going to burst out laughing at you, he instead huffed and placed his hands on his hips in annoyance. 

“Lemme guess, Dante put you up to this?” He asks, already knowing the answer. “I’m going to rip that mop of hair off of his head as soon as I see him” Nero huffs as he sits back down on the side of the bathtub, hands gripping the edges while he stares daggers into the wall beside him. “Maybe shave his eyebrows off, pull his pants down in front of everyone—“

“Why not just stab him?” You cut Nero off from his child-like ideas for pranks to pull on his uncle. However once Nero turned to look at you with a frown, not quite mortified since the both of you knew Dante would survive a sword through his chest, but he still didn’t look pleased. “That was a joke.” You add with a nervous laugh. 

~

After much convincing and pep talk, you managed to persuade Nero to go downstairs with you. You both took a few accessories off of yourselves, like your pirate jacket and hat, and Nero’s fangs stayed on the sink. He tucked the overly ripped parts of his shirt into his pants so that he didn’t look like a vicious beast clawed him up, which left him to look pretty casual apart from the few blood splattered on his white shirt. 

What stood out the most to you though, and anyone else that would look in his direction, were his pants. Since parts of his shirt were tucked, you had a nice view of his backside when walking down the stairs. Tight leather pants did absolute wonders on him and you found your cheeks flushing red when you caught yourself staring. You wouldn’t mind being caught in between those thighs though… 

By the time you made it down to meet Nico, Nero had awkwardly tried to stand behind you, still wanting to hide himself as much as possible. You had to look behind you and shoot him a kind smile to help him relax a little, even reaching behind you to grab his hand and pull him out from behind you to at least stand beside you. He glared playfully at you for that but you shrugged it off with a smile and a nudge to his ribs. 

“You’ve all but walked down the stairs and I’ve already caught you starin’ at Nero’s ass” Nico chuckled as soon as you were standing beside her. You felt like clasping your hand over her mouth but the damage was already done, her loud mouth having reached Nero’s ears and not just yours. Not like she planed on making it a secret between just you and her. It was like she had no concept of secrecy. 

“I was not…!” You shriek, horrified that Nero now knows you were shamelessly staring at his butt the entire time you were walking down the stairs. Nico just laughs at you and Nero raises an eyebrow. You make the mistake of facing him, seeing how his cheeks are a little pink but he overall looks a little cocky. Your face turns red, you can feel the heat rise to your ears, neck and cheeks. “You look good in leather…” You huff and immediately regret it. 

Nero blinks in surprise, having no idea what do to or say. And luckily he didn’t have to since a certain white haired male came storming through the front door, fashionably late with Lady and Trish under his arms. And funnily enough, he was in a suit, not looking like a zombie at all like he said he would be. It was very clear that this was just a prank pulled on you and Nero, no one else. 

“Hey, you two! Lookin’ good. Is it halloween already?” Dante laughs as he spots the two of you. 

You and Nero exchange a look before the both of you storm over to him. Lady and Trish wriggle out from under his arms but hold his hands out so that they can trade places with you and Nero. The two lovely women smirk as you grab Dante by his left arm while Nero gets the right, not giving the pizza-loving male any time to make it inside the beautiful home as you drag him back out. 

“Wha-! Oh, c’mon! It was funny, guys!” Dante tries to reason as the doors close behind you. You have no idea what you’re going to do or say to the older male, but you and Nero were certainly going to have your own fun. Maybe shave off Dante’s eyebrows like Nero wanted… 

[inkspiots]

i think i might push my luck with you

i think i might push my luck with you

 

/

 

Laurence Zhval is an idiot. There’s no other explanation for the actual atrocity going on in his head right now. He does not -- he can not, actually -- have a crush on his best friend’s youngest brother. Besides, Vylad wasn’t cute. 

Sure, he might have been cute when they were kids -- but, to be completely fair, Laurence had barely been twelve the last time he’d seen him, a year before Garte had sent the green-eyed boy to boarding school on the other side of the country.

Vylad was sixteen now, or so he assumes; he remembers Garroth getting him to sign a card for his brother a few weeks ago, but he’s not completely sure if it was a birthday card or not. . . maybe it was just a random card, his friend does tend to be sort of random at times. Yeah, it probably wasn’t even a birthday card, knowing Garroth.

 

“Laur, if you don’t come eat dinner I think Mom might give your plate to --” A pause; he doesn’t move from his bed, and his sister doesn’t move from the doorway. “Whoa, bro, you having a crisis?”

He lets out a soft groan and shoves his pillow onto the floor in protest of his emotions, and he hears Cadenza laugh and drop down into his computer chair. “What happened? Tell Dr. Cadenza all about it.”

“You’re not a therapist yet, Denza. Get out of my room.” His sister laughs again, and leans back, propping her feet up on his desk.

“Who did you meet? Cute girl? Cute guy? Cute genderless and/or genderfluid person?”

“Vylad.”

“You met Vylad? Honey, I don’t know if you know this, but you already knew Vylad. When you were like, two.”

“Irene, Cadenza, you don’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Vylad, he’s hot now!”

She starts to laugh, and Laurence leans over the side of his bed to pick up his pillow and throw it at her -- she ducks, and it knocks over a pile of game cartridges instead. He curses.

“Laurence Micheal and Cadenza Jade, if you two don’t get down here and eat your dinner right now --”

The siblings look at each other for half of a second, and then dash for the door at the same time. “Yes ma’am!”

He’s on the field after school, for some one-on-one practice against Dante (if his blue-haired other best friend would ever show up), when he spots Vylad walking towards him at an alarming speed and he drops his soccer ball in order to run over to him. “Whoa, dude.” Dude? Did I just call him dude ? “You okay?”

He holds up a hand, catching his breath. “Um, yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine!” Vylad seems to be saying this more to himself than to Laurence, but he doesn’t particularly care all that much -- at least he has an excuse to talk to him. “What are you doing out here? You don’t have practice today.”

Laurence cocks an eyebrow, ignores the feeling in his chest that might have been his heartbeat stopping for a few seconds, and lets a slow smirk spread along his lips. He tilts forward on his heels. “You know my practice schedule?”

Vlyad’s eyes get wide, and the shorter brunette ducks his head down, running a hand through his long-ish hair. “Uh, well, Garroth has it pinned on the fridge at the house. He’s really good at keeping up with it, and I haven’t been to watch a game or anything in years, so I was seeing when your next practice is and --”

Cutting him off with a laugh, Laurence grins down at him as Vylad lifts his eyes again. He’s frowning. “Calm down, V. I’m just playing with you.” He glances back at the discarded ball in the middle of the field, and then to the boy in front of him. “I was supposed to practice with Dante, but the idiot hasn’t shown up yet and I doubt he will.” A pause. “I have half a mind to kick him off the team, but I love him too much.”

“I could, uh, practice with you, if you want?” It’s more of a question than an offer, really, but he’ll take what he can get.

“You think you can keep up with me, Ro’Meave?” There’s half a challenge in his voice, and -- just like he expected, Vylad takes the bait -- the younger boy rushes past him and immediately kicks the ball into the goal.

“I think, Zhval” he says, and tilts his head back to grin at Laurence (he does not swoon over it; he really, really doesn’t ), “the real question is whether or not you can keep up with me .”

He is going to die. He’s actually, seriously, really going to die. Garroth’s going to kill him, or maybe he’s just going to unfriend him; but, honestly, they’ve been best friends since middle school so that might as well be the same damn thing. Maybe he can run away. . .

Yeah, he’ll just run away from his life and his problems and his stupid, stupid feelings for his best friend’s youngest brother. Yeah, that’ll totally work, won’t it?

Oh, who is he kidding? He might as well have slapped Vylad instead of kissing him, but really, who could blame him? It wasn’t like he had any actual self-control in his body, because otherwise he wouldn’t be where he was: standing in the middle of the soccer field and watching the way the sun made Vlyad’s dark hair look like some sort of chocolate and leaning over to kiss him before either of them can make another snide comment about the game they’re playing (the game that Vylad is very obviously winning and Laurence can’t find it in himself to care).

“Oh, fuck, oh shit, I’m so sorry.” And now he’s rambling and trying to apologize and then, Vylad is laughing. Vylad is fucking laughing at him. “Why. . . why are you laughing?”

He just keeps laughing, and then Vylad jerks forward and kisses him again and this time, Laurence definaitly swoons -- he won’t try and deny it, because he felt his legs give out for half a second before he stood up straight and tried to deepen the kiss -- and blinks rapidly as the younger boy pulls away. “Because I’m not.”

[blueroseblaze]

Wreck: Chapter 3

Nero stepped through the door of the apartment, studying the almost untouched state of the place.

Nothing had been moved or changed since they left for their mission. The pillows from the sofa were still strewn about with little regard. The same pairs of shoes and boots littered the entry way with none being added or removed. None of the dinning chairs had been moved to what he could see. Even the rhythmic drip of the leaky kitchen faucet, which could be stopped with just a tug of the cold water handle, still continued on with no interference.

Nero cautiously tread through the apartment, looking for any sign of life. Only to come up empty handed.

No one answered the phone when he had called from the hospital earlier that morning. When he called Lady and Trish they answered within moments. When he called Patty and Morrison, they both answered within 5 rings. Dante was a dick and let his phone ring until the last second, and Kyrie missed it but immediately called him back.

It didn’t worry him too much, none of them were good at answering the apartment phone anyway. It was when he received no answer from the van’s phone that made him worry. Nico was always one to give him shit for breaking the third ring rule, to the point where they dropped it and just had Nero call her. Nico never didn’t answer the phone in the van, she would always drop whatever she was doing to answer it if no one else did. Communication was key in their line of work, and Nero’s had been one sided for days.

He walked over to the land line that sat on an end table in the living room, he cleared all the missed calls and voicemails that he left and listened to the ones not from him. Some were scams, some were from Patty wanting to leave an excited welcome home message for (Y/N). He smiled at her cheerfulness, wishing he had such a positive outlook on life.

His attention was pulled away by a loud clang coming from the garage door. His brow knit together curiously as he followed the noises. As he approached the door, he could hear more clangs and crashes, like tools being discarded haphazardly. He could also pick up a few swears spoken in a familiar southern drawl.

He carefully opened the door, like he was almost afraid of what was on the other side. The door slowly fell open, creaking on it’s aged hinges. Almost immediately his senses were bombarded with a smog of cigarette smoke and rust. His eyes started watering as he stepped deeper into the garage, waving his hand in front of his face to waft the stench away, to no avail. He took note of the numerous empty and crushed energy drink cans littering the floor. He carelessly discarded them with his boot as he shuffled through the mess.

His view of the garage was mostly obscured by the massive van sitting in the center, the neon Devil May Cry sign was shut off the dull lettering reflecting the mood of the space. The body of the van was covered in scratched and gashes through the metal frame, some panels of metal just barely hanging on. The hood was propped up, and the drivers side door was open, allowing him to see through the front row to the other side, where he heard the continued cursing coming from.

“Damnit!” a quiet voice hissed from the other side of the van.

Nero stalked around the front of the van, cautiously peeking around the vehicle to the crouched form on the ground. The mess leading to the garage door was nothing compared to the trash pile Nico had nested herself in.

With a lit cigarette in her mouth, Nico stared annoyed at the decimated passenger side door, or what was left of it. Around her were several open cans of liquid sugar and alcohol. Many tools were also strewn about the concrete floor, with no order or system to speak of. Nico -despite being the crazy grease monkey she was- always kept her work space and instruments organized, only really getting messy when she was using a select set of tools for a project. But this? Nero has never seen so many wrenches, pliers, cables and ratchets scattered across the ground.

That wasn’t even to describe the state Nico herself was in. Her hair was greasy and unkempt, messily tied back rather than pushed back and fluffed up like it normally was. Her clothes, which were never really clean in the first place, were covered in grease and what Nero worriedly suspected was some blood too. Her face was haggard, devoid of any positive emotion, the skin around her eyes was sagging and dark and her eyes were blood shot and hazed over.

She lazily took a drag of her cigarette, tapping the loose ashes away to the floor with little thought, which was probably insanely dangerous to do next to an almost armored vehicle. She didn’t even turn to regard the white haired devil hunter, probably not knowing he was even there.

“Nico?” Nero prodded carefully.

“Hey, Nero,” she replied still not turning her head. Her voice was low, slurring with clear exhaustion.

Nero leaned his body against the open hood of the van looking down at Nico as she kept staring at the damaged door frame.

“What have you been doing?” he asked not wanting to bring up the missed calls just yet.

Nico puffed on her cigarette, exhaling another cloud of tobacco into the confined space, just adding to the awful smell permeating through the air.

“Working,” Nico replied simply.

Nero sighed before kicking a discarded can across the room, the sound of the aluminum bouncing around concrete ringing out throughout the garage. He looked back to Nico, who hadn’t even flinched at the sharp loud noise. The silence that followed grew more and more in awkwardness as the seconds ticked by. Nero pursed his lips, looking for the right thing to say. It was obvious Nico was in no mood to be snarky or partake in small talk. Her face and general demeanor was a clear, “don’t fucking talk to me,” sign. It sent a sense of unease through Nero’s system, seeing what was basically the opposite of the Nico he knew.

“(Y/N) is doing fine. She woke up last night and she’s okay,” Nero explained.

“And you just left her there? Alone?” Nico snapped, suddenly becoming more visceral.

“I waited until she woke up and then told her I was coming back here,” Nero said growing slightly annoyed at her accusatory tone, “I tried calling you, several times, but you wouldn’t pick up.”

“Well I’m sorry! But I’ve been a little busy here!” she snapped at him, her voice growing louder, more laced with venom as she spit her excuse towards him. She removed the cigarette from her lips, extinguishing it on an ashtray placed on the floor near her. She stood from her spot on the ground wobbling a little as she turned her back and walked away, running her hand through her messy hair.

Nero felt a little anger growing in his chest as he raised himself from the hood of the van to stand up straight. He crossed his arms over his chest, his broad shoulder tensing.

“You constantly got on my ass for not picking up the phone fast enough. even when I’m out hunting demons, but when I’m calling from the fucking hospital to tell you how our friend is doing you just give me silence!” Nero yelled.

Nico spun around, almost fast enough for her red glasses to slide down her nose. She had rage in her tired eyes as her chest moved with her angry huffs. Her boots slammed against the floor as she cleared the space between them in only a few strides. Their chests were mere inches apart when Nico poked her finger into Nero’s sternum.

“That’s because you’re a dumbass who can’t keep track of time! Meanwhile, I’m back here working on something really fucking important, but I guess not to you!” Nico yelled in his face, her breath reeked of tobacco and a cocktail of disgusting smelling things with an absence of toothpaste or mints.

Now it was Nero’s turn to huff and puff in anger.

“Do you have any idea how disappointed she was when I told her you hadn’t even picked up the phone or bothered to come and see her in the hospital?” he asked his voice slowly raising, “She was out of it for three days and not once to you even bother to call and ask if she was okay!”

He jerked away from Nico’s accusatory poking before continuing his rant.

“Patty was able to stop by, Lady called the hospital asking if (Y/N) was okay, but I called the van directly and you didn’t even pick up. You answered me once and the hung up after I said she was alive. Do you know how much that hurt her? Do you even care?”

“OF COURSE, I CARE!” Nico screamed, “You think I don’t care about her? Or what happened? You think that I’ve had even a wink of sleep these past few days? You think I’ve done anything but worry and work on this god forsaken van!?”

As she screams, she started lashing out flailing her arms in rage and kicking the side of the van several times, like it would help anything at all. Nero saw how she squeezed her eyes shut, barring and grinding her teeth as her breathing became more ragged with each violent action. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists tight, trying to hold back an even greater rage she was feeling. Nero worried for a moment that she would hurt herself as she continued to beat on the van, hurling expletives and ravings at it like it had slighted her grandmother.

Nero let her flush all the anger out of her system, watching as her attacks on the vehicle slowly decreased in power and volume. Her breathing was all over the place, gasps and uneven pants replacing her curses and insults. She leaned her forearms against the side of the van, her back hunched and the top of her head pressed against the cold and abused metal. Her back shook with her uneven breaths, and Nero saw the little droplets that fell to the garage floor at her feet.

“So that this never happens again,” she said, her voice hoarse, shaky, unsure yet determined.

“What?” Nero asked softly, not picking upon the context during her tirade.

“I’ve been working…” she started, trailing off as her voice shook, “So that this never… happens… again.”

Nico raised her head to look at Nero. Her whole face was red and splotchy, her cheeks were stained with tear tracks, and the lenses of her glasses had fogged up. Her face contorted with sadness, anger, and what looked like guilt. She pulled herself away from the van turning her head as to not look at Nero. Her arms crossed around her body, hugged herself tightly. Nero had never seen Nico so vulnerable and insecure before.

Nero’s whole posture had relaxed as he stepped towards her. As carefully as he could muster, he encircled his arms around her, holding her close to him. He felt her burry her face into his chest as her sobs continued. She didn’t unwind her own arms to return the gesture, just letting Nero hold her as she cried. One of Nero’s hand rested flat against her back, while the other cradled her head closer to him. He hushed her as she cried trying in vain to calm her down.

“It’s my fault,” she hiccupped, “It’s all my fault.”

“That’s not true,” Nero replied sharply.

“I wasn’t paying attention, I should have seen the damage. I shouldn’t have gone for that jump.”

She continued sobbing into Nero’s wine red sweater.

“I should have stopped or slowed down. If… if I didn’t go for it, she wouldn’t have fallen out… It’s my fault she got hurt. A-and I saw her… I saw her fall and I didn’t do anything. Even after I stopped I-I just stared...”

“There was nothing you could do,” Nero explained, his voice soft ginger as he stroking the mechanic’s back calmingly, “There was nothing anyone could do. It was already too late. I should have seen the demon on the side, but I didn’t. I should have seen her fall, but I didn’t. No one knew that she wasn’t safe anymore. But it’s okay now, she’s alive, she’s healing. All we can do now is be there for her, right?”

He felt her nod against his chest, letting out a few more hiccups as she reached up to wipe the stray tears from her eyes. Her breathing began to even out, slow and deep and her shaking subsided.

“She’s not mad at you,” Nero said, “She doesn’t blame you. She was just upset that you didn’t come to see her. She was worried about you.”

“Was she upset when she woke up because of how bad you smell?” Nico teased, laughing through the last of her hiccups, “You smell like you crawled out a demons ass.”

“Oh, and you smell like a field of roses,” Nero smugly replied.

“Gross, you flirting with me?” Nico asked.

“Just for that…” Nero said, as he began to smother Nico into his sweater as she fought against him cackling.

They both fought against each other laughing as Nero refused to let Nico go to breath. It was rare they both had something to mutually laugh at together. They both just liked taking to piss with each other and really only laughed together when (Y/N) told a good joke on the way to or from a mission.

Eventually Nero relented, releasing Nico who returned the sentiment by calling him an asshole and punching him in the chest, which did little to hurt him. He laughed and humored her by raising his hand to where her fist connected. They giggled like kids together, their laughs slowly dissipating, and an uncomfortable silence fell over them.

“We should both clean up and get some rest, it doesn’t look like you’ve slept, and I’ve been crashing on a hospital couch for three days. We can go see (Y/N) later, she’ll be thrilled to see you,” Nero said, laying a hand on Nico’s shoulder.

She nodded and understanding smile graced her freckled cheeks before fading just as fast as it appeared.

Feedback is much appreciated :)