#dark knight sparda

[turcinbsart]

TriggerHeart Sparda

I got really fixated on the legend of Sparda in Devil May Cry and decided to "write" some loose fanon. Based around the revolving theme of "heart is power," this story would base itself in Sparda discovering and developing his humanity as he "[wakes] up to justice" and saves the human world from Mundus' takeover.

<> Raised by the demon-dubbed-God of Death, Yamato, and trained by her to tear apart his enemies, Sparda starts out as a vagabond demon, simply fighting to fight and prove his place among demon-kind in Mundus' hell. >One day he returns home, eager to share his exploits of bloodshed to Yamato. As he approaches, he sees Yamato talking to Mundus, never before seen by Sparda himself. Hushed and angered tones echo through the halls, before a large burst of red lightning hits Yamato. The God of Death reclaims herself and brandishes her fabled power as the two titans face off. >In the end, however, Yamato is felled, and Mundus takes his leave. Sparda, now able to close in, talks to Yamato.

"Mundus... you must stop him."

'Why, my master, what is he planning?"

"There is so much we miss in our immortal lives. Find humanity.'

"Humanity?"

"There is power in them. You need more power."

"I don't understand..."

"My.. young bug..." >Yamato's body fades away as her energy explodes into the ether, and then condensing, to be held solemnly in Sparda's hands. It fades into his body, its potential locked away. >Sparda resolves to heed his master. He will find and exploit Humanity's power, but to fell Mundus? That would take more convincing, and more time.

<> And from here it's bare bones, Sparda joins Mundus' army, becomes his right hand, trains two demon brothers, and all that jazz we know and love and exists in like 5 paragraphs total. lol. This project exists simply because Sparda seems like he'd be such an interesting subject for a Devil May Cry story, side or main, despite how little we actually know

I will split you apart Bare my light against sin Suffer my triggered heart Embrace the darkness within

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

Feel free to ask me questions!

[thedivineimagecomic]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 PAGE - 25

Goodnight.

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober Day 9: Somnophilia(You'd be like Heaven to touch...)

warnings/kinks: somnophilia, smut, slight dub con, unprotected sex word count: 0.7k pairings: Legendary Dark Knight Sparda x Fem!Reader teaser: You could so easily bring him to his knees with that big heart of yours and that tight cunt. Sparda smirks as he runs his long fingers through your pubic hair. taglist: @beneathstarryskies @loki-love @witchofcustom @dreadsuitsamus @pyrofanatic @butterflieskeepcominback

You never thought you’d fall in love with the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, but he had charmed his way into your heart so easily. You were a tiny human next to this giant devil, but he so easily showed you just how sweet and kind he was. And it took no time for you to become intimate with him, learning all the ways that sex can be so much better with a devil.

You often wondered if you were ever enough for this sexy and loving devil, but he never left you guessing for very long. Your days were spent being lavished and spoiled by the devil in question, and your nights were spent on your back or knees being pleasured to the brink of consciousness. You could never imagine a better existence.

Despite the lack of him telling you about his past, he did share a few things with you. It made you worry, but you knew your lover was more than capable of taking care of things were they to become dodgy. So as time went on, you slowly grew closer and more in love with Sparda.

Your routine was pretty well set. You and him spend all your time together. He loves to surprise you with tokens of love. He’s got a big romantic heart that makes you swoon almost every single day. And his appetite for sex is voracious. He does what he can to fuck you and pleasure you every day and night but sometimes when he’s gone, he grows impatient to see you.

This is one of those days. You’re home alone, longing for your lover. You know he’ll be home soon, but it’s just making you feel even needier not to have him here with you. It gets worse when you realize you’ll have to go to bed without him.

The bed feels cold and lonely. You want him to be here, pressing that big body up against yours. You wish for his hands all over you, caressing you and teasing you in all the ways you love. Somehow you manage to fall asleep, dreaming of being with Sparda once more.

And he finds you in bed, a smirk on his face. He knew he’d be home by tonight, but he decided to surprise you. When he sees you sleeping alone in your marital bed, his cock grows so hard. This is an aspect of your relationship you had told him you’d love to explore more.

He settles on the bed gently, spreading your thighs. The thin sheet sits on your practically naked body, just keeping you from him. He pulls it off so slowly, not wanting to wake you up at all. Your nightgown is pushed up and he grunts quietly when he sees you’re not wearing any panties. Your cunt is just there, on full display for him. You must be having some good dreams, he thinks to himself, because you are so wet.

The smell of your arousal makes his head so dizzy. You’re such a tiny human, but you own him body and soul. You could so easily bring him to his knees with that big heart of yours and that tight cunt. Sparda smirks as he runs his long fingers through your pubic hair.

You stir softly in your sleep, a warmth growing deep inside of you. Your dreams are filled with loving and sexual moments with your lover, making you feel aroused in your sleep. Sparda is enjoying every moment of this. Soon, he’s shedding his clothes and he’s spreading your thighs even more.

He’s careful not to wake you up as he runs his thick cockhead between your soaked folds. You let out cute little moans, but he knows you’re just dreaming. He spends an extra couple of minutes getting his cock all nice and wet before slipping it into you.

And this is when you wake up, a soft gasp falling from your lips. You feel so full and loved. You cling to the devil, your arms and legs wrapping around him as he thrusts into you. Now that you’re awake and aware of what’s going on, he’s not going to slow down.

The cute little sleepy look in your eyes really drives him crazy. As he pounds you into the mattress, he’s grunting and growling. His mouth waters as he leans in to nip at your neck. You cry out, whimpering and whining when he bites down into your skin.

“Couldn’t wait for you to fully wake up, my dear…just had to have you now.”

[demonic-x-sorcerers]

Curses & Demons | Closed RP

"I'm here. What's the situation?"

Omida Oda finally arrives at the scene where a group of his men are fighting a horde of cursed spirits that were infested inside a old building near the old shopping street that is Endoji Shopping Street.

One of his generals present Iku Takayashi sighs, "I got a call from one of my guys saying that there's a nest of them, and went inside without thinking. The guys are worried that it will spread outside of the building."

"And?"

"They were in trouble when one of them called after a few minutes of entering. One of them stayed behind and cast a curtain to make sure no cursed spirit came in or out. I came here and I sense nothing inside except..." Iku frowns, pushing himself.

Oda raises a brow, "Yes?"

"Something or someone stronger than you. No. Scratch that, stronger than you, Oda." Iku finished his sentence.

This got Oda's eyes to narrow, "Then we mustn't waste any time. Let's go and see what we're dealing with."

"Right behind ya. I told Rioto to get his ass down here so he would be here by any second.." Said the demon general as he and the leader entered inside the curtain together to see what or whom is up ahead.

@hoshizorax

[6-evil-6-soul-6]

DMC1 Sparda DT. Using Yamato As Legendary Dark Knight

Recolour to his original aura vs Mundus

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 84: Taboo

Chapter 84: Taboo

Note: I’ve wanted to write this chapter for SO LONG. Yay, a late Christmas gift!

(-~-)

Two Thousand Years Earlier…

To say that things had gone poorly would be an understatement.

Kneeling aside the dead remains of what had once been his mount, the dark-haired man panted heavily. His eyes darted about the battlefield hastily taking in his surroundings as he removed the spear he gripped from the body of the demon he was slumped over. It had been golden but now the double-ended weapon was stained black and red from his efforts, from both his wounds and those of his enemies. Blood dripped from his chest and ran down his arm onto his injured leg as he stabbed his spear into the ground and used it as leverage to attempt to stand. He failed. It was slick. Still, he grasped it. He would be a fool to do anything else.

Everything was still now but for the groans and dying moans of compatriots and enemies alike. His breath was tinged with pain as he used his left arm to touch his side. He needed to stanch the bleeding. Everything about this situation filled him with despair, but he refused to wear it. 

At least he was alive. He could not say the same for his compatriots.

There had been ten of them in total, sent to investigate a strange situation that had his superiors up in arms. It hadn’t been his idea, but he had volunteered to go, regardless. A simple investigation shouldn’t have required nearly a dozen of them, but now he wished they’d brought more.

Upon arrival, they’d been ambushed from the treeline. Out in the open, surrounded, they had been flanked on all sides with no means of escape. Several hundred demons versus a mere handful of his elite kin. The gore was unspeakable. One had escaped early on to send for reinforcements. But they had never come. And he hadn’t expected them to. Cyrus had always been more talk than show. He’d probably fled to the hills and left them to die. As dishonorable as he was untrustworthy. Some things never changed.

And then came the footfall of hooves.

One and then two and then three and then four. A single horse carrying a single rider. The stead as pitch black as night and the rider upon it even darker. A blue fiery mane serving as a steadfast indication of the creature’s inhuman nature. It came to a gradual, graceful stop, towering above him. As did its armored rider. And as he half kneeled before them, weapon grasped in a hand made shakey from tireless battle, the rider took in the sight of him from under a pitch-black helmet, slits where the eyes should have been. His back was adorned with a dark set of insectoid wings and the rest of his form was covered in ornate black armor that shielded the form underneath. 

An inhuman form, no doubt.

“Well well… This is rather embarrassing.” The rider spoke calmly. He was tall. Near to if not well over seven feet tall. The black-haired angel would not say as much, but the sight was indeed disquieting. He could not do combat against such a foe in such a compromised state. But he would try.

“Go back to hell.” He spat the words at him along with the blood that had built up in his mouth as removed his helmet, allowing his dark hair to fully pool around his shoulders. He would look his opponent in the eyes. And against a sword of the caliber that he possessed, the helmet would do little good. 

Sword against spear. Horse against a downed member of the cavalry. It was not the first time he’d lost a horse, but… he’d loved that horse. He stole a glance over at her. If only he’d managed to dismount her faster, but it had been an ambush.

“Forgive me… ”

The black steed stomped impatiently before being soothed by its rider. It almost seemed to crave violence. It was used to it now. All this stillness was unbecoming of a breed cultivated for war.

“I intend to. It is my current destination, in fact.” The knight sounded almost amused by the statement. How unoriginal it was for him to be told to return to his place of origin, but it had been a while since an angel had been the one to tell him as much. “Does Paradiso have nothing better to do today than to send you lot to die?”

Before the dark-haired angel could respond, two demons rushed from behind him, blades at the ready. In a flash, the spear was in his hand as he turned and faced one of them down, emailing them at length with a graceful extended one-handed thrust that sent the weapon straight through the creature’s head. He withdrew it and turned on his knee, still unable to stand as the weight of his wings bore down on him, pulling on muscles in his back that screamed under the strain. And yet, he held his composure. 

And what he found genuinely took him by surprise.

The second demon raced towards the knight on the horse, weapon drawn to strike. But before it could do so much as bring the weapon down a millimeter, it was split halfway in half down the middle from above, the razor-sharp blade cleaving through its flesh like a shard of obsidian through fresh dough. The knight then flicked the blade clean in a second deliberate motion and sheathed it, keeping his hand on the hilt.

“I care nothing for the petty squabbles that take place between our breeds.” He said sternly, unphased by what had just taken place. A scene such as that was far too commonplace for either of them to be taken aback by, but there had certainly been one element of that attack that threw the angel for a loop.

“Then call off your men, Demon.” He demanded sternly. He would not plead, but it seemed to be the obvious solution if no further violence was to be enacted. The fields had been watered with enough blood as things stood.

Craning his head slightly to the side, the rider stared at him through his helmet. The tired angel could not make out his eyes. He could not see his face, but he could feel the air change as he made his fury apparent. “Demon?”

Ah. He had made a mistake. That much was clear. This was no mere demon. This was the source of the commotion he’d been sent to investigate. It had to be. 

“Devil. I see…”

“You are tired.” He retorted, his tone returning to the even, measured form it had taken on before his accidental insult. It seemed his small correction had returned the conversation to a more cordial state before things had been given the chance to escalate further.

“And you are firmly on the wrong side of this battlefield.” The battered creature observed, gesturing with his free hand toward the dead demon. A demon who seemed to be dead at its own lord master’s feet, no less.

He adjusted his posture, soothing the horse again as it tossed its neck from side to side. He inhaled and exhaled evenly, maintaining the same aura of dignified darkness that he’d worn nearly their entire interaction. His voice was even and cool, a practiced skill when one wore armor that stifling. And with no mouth hole. “I am where I belong.”

The horse took a few steps forward, flaking him slightly as the wounded angel gripped the spear tightly, hunkering down into a more defensive position. The rider stopped, craning his neck slightly to look at him as he brought his steed to a stop.

“You think to draw against me?” He seemed almost as amused as he was impressed.

“Do you think to pick me off while I am weak?” The man responded, laboring under tired muscles and lungs that burned from the effort of keeping him alive.

To his surprise a chuckle escaped the helmet as the knight in black armor steered his horse back around to face him, removing his hand from the pommel of his blade as he leaned over slightly. It made hardly any difference, but it was clear that he wanted to be closer to him as he spoke.

“I don’t need to, Angel.” He spoke softly. Not mockingly but almost reassuringly. It was as if he were making it clear that he would not harm him while also assuring him that he most certainly could if he truly wanted to all at once. And in that instant, he knew the truth of those words. It was indisputable. This was no mere Devil. No, this was something far more powerful.

The knight tucked his fully sheathed blade away, out of his reach. And then he waited, his arms folded in front of him in a way that signaled that he expected him to do the same.

“No… I don’t think you do, Devil.”

He pulled his blade from the ground and pressed on the mechanism that caused it to compress, each end folding like the staves of an umbrella as the weapon folded into a more compact form. He then tucked it back into its place at his side, slumping over without its support. He would cooperate. There was still a chance of walking away from this. Metaphorically. His leg was out of commission and would remain that way.

“You appear to be the last one standing. Impressive.” The knight took note of the piles upon piles of slain demons that surrounded the wounded angel. His companions had fallen some ways away, telling a clear story of a battle hard won despite exigent circumstances. A lesser warrior would be dead. Almost anyone else would, in fact. Despite his inherent distaste for the winged creature that kneeled below him, he had to admit that he was an impressive warrior. He wished he’d gotten the chance to see his work. If his single thrust had done that level of damage at that kind of speed then what did he look like uninjured against a worthy foe? The prospect was exhilarating.

“I would prefer not to be.” As impressed as the demonic knight seemed to be with the fact that he was still alive despite the circle of death that he lingered in the middle of, he couldn’t say he felt the same. He’d gallantly stood his ground against dozens of opponents, but his compatriots had not been so lucky. 

The victory felt.. hollow.

“I imagine so.” He adjusted himself on his saddle, taking a more casual position as opposed to the readied stance he’d been in since he’d arrived. “Why are you here?”

“The infighting between your kind has drawn attention. From my superiors.” The angel attempted to stand again, making it off of his knees this time. But the moment that his right leg attempted to fully extend, he toppled and attempted to play it off as much less painful than it had actually been. He should have kept the helmet on. To better hide the mixture of pain and regret that lingered on his otherwise handsome features.

“You do not strike me as a man who has superiors.” This time the demon genuinely seemed amused. It was a compliment. There was no sarcasm. 

Sighing, he slumped over again, his dark hair falling over his shoulders as he looked down at the ground.“... A handful.” 

“Ah.” He didn’t sound like he believed him. Not for a second.

“Do not think to flatter me.” He was tired. The blood loss was starting to get to him as the adrenaline that had coursed his veins started to fade away in earnest. He looked up at the dark devil that loomed overhead. He was an easy target and yet… he didn’t feel that the creature would strike him. Something about his demeanor carried too much dignity to stoop to such a low. Still, honest or not, he didn’t feel he’d earned such praise. He hadn’t managed to save even a single one of his compatriots. There would be hell to pay once he returned home. If he even managed to in such a sorry state. His wings were intact but he didn’t have the strength of body or heart to flap them.

He wondered for a moment if he looked as crestfallen as he felt.

“I’ve done no such thing. Be that as it may…” To his very apparent shock, the knight threw his leg around the horse before pulling his right leg from the stirrups and sliding down without so much as a grunt. He landed gracefully, his blade still at his side as he approached, his stance straight and true. Practiced and powerful. This was a man who might just be more dangerous off of a horse than he was on one. He just had that way about him. ”I do know a divine being of higher blood when I see one.”

“And you reek of the lowest depths of inferno.” He countered. Brimstone and blood clung to him. A warrior forged in the blackest pits of hell. Surely someone of renown wherever he hailed from.

“Thank you.” He halted, surprised by the honesty that the statement was tinged with. He tilted his head from side to side ever so slightly before folding his arms in front of himself. “You are wounded.”

“Why would that matter?” The kneeling man said tiredly. This wasn’t news to either of them. He wasn’t annoyed, but he did wonder why the devil continued to interact with him. Did he find his predicament entertaining on some level? Was this like a cat watching a wounded bird limp about waiting for it to become too tired to fight back, or was he still there for a reason?

At least his presence seemed to deter any further meddling for whatever was left of the demons…

“Only my enemies need bleed for my crusade. You are not among them. Yet.” He chuckled darkly. That last part had been a threat, but an almost playful one. But as soon as he finished speaking, he turned to leave, taking the wounded man by surprise. 

“... Wait.” He started, attempting to stand to follow him only to crumple to the ground again, this time audibly wincing in pain as he fell, garnering the attention of his conversation partner as he turned in one swift motion to see what had happened. His long black and purple cape rippled in the fading light as the red sunset overhead loomed large. It was the only color to be found on him. Strange. “I require… May I ask for your aid?”

The demon nodded, clearly intrigued. He clasped his hands together, bowing just far enough to make it clear that he was attempting to be sardonic. “You may.”

Ah, so that was his plan. He wanted him to beg.

He took a moment to thoroughly swallow his pride, lowering his head in a mixture of frustration and humiliation. The gesture was genuine, but it also physically wounded him. He was by his very nature a proud creature. To bow to a Devil was not below his personal standards, but it was firmly below his standing as an Exalted and he would hear no end to the ridicule that would be inflicted upon him should someone see him prostrate himself to their enemy.

“I humbly request your aid. I… cannot stand.” He wouldn’t last the night out in the open. If he could just make it to the treeline perhaps he would stand a better chance. But out in the elements in clear view of his enemies surrounded by the decay of friends and foes alike? He stood no chance. He needed to rest. He couldn’t stay vigilant all night.

The devil sauntered ever closer, leaning over to take a better look. It was hard to gather through the helmet, but he seemed to wince quietly at the depth of the wound that had been inflicted upon his leg.

“Ah… I see, yes. That looks excruciating.”

“Somewhat.” he countered dryly. It wasn’t as bad when he didn’t try to move, but it hurt regardless. Like a toothache, but deep in the bone that made up the core of his leg. A demon had thrown an axe at him, cleaving the appendage and leaving a ragged, gaping wound. Fortunately, they hadn’t hit an artery. But still a debilitating injury. Armor or not, it wasn’t healing at an acceptable rate. He… needed help. And there was only one person available to ask.

“Very well.” The demon kneeled down in front of him, reaching up with both of his taloned gauntlets to grasp the helmet. He pulled it from his head, the piece of armor dissipating like smoke in the wind as a mop of gleaming white hair spilled from within the helmet. A moment later a set of sparkling blue eyes met his and he was taken aback to see the form of an uncommonly handsome human man slumped over in front of him, his gaze neutral and unbothered. So this was a devil capable of taking on a human persona then? He’d assumed the man to be powerful, but it had been a long time since he’d seen one who possessed this kind of power. Given his current state, it was… genuinely frightening. He had to remain calm. “Then I shall aid you. Where to, then?”

“Somewhere less exposed…” It was all he could muster the strength to say. Fatigue was starting to set in.

With a nod, the tall devil stood up, pulling him to his feet as he groaned in pain. He couldn’t put weight on the leg for fear of collapsing and worsening his blood loss. That was clear the moment he managed to lift him up. And he did so easily with no hit of strain or difficulty, wordlessly helping him over to his horse.

He braced him against the large beast before effortlessly hoisting himself up onto its back, leaving him to labor in agony as he leaned against it. But as soon as he had secured himself in the saddle he reached down and extended an arm to the wounded man, an arm that he took gladly. Anything to get him off of the ground. Off of his bad leg.

Grunting ever so slightly from the additional weight, he pulled the dark-haired man onto the dark steed, positioning him in front of him. The best place that he could be should he falter and fall.

“Why… are you aiding me?” It was a genuine question born from an honest sense of confusion. He couldn't think of a single demon or devil that he’d ever done battle against who would have been willing to lift a finger to assist him should have asked. He wasn’t sure the feeling was even mutual. But… he felt almost compelled to trust this devil. Something about him bewitched the dark-haired angel. Perhaps he’d just suffered head trauma. But some part of him knew that was a lie as he folded his wings as flat as he possibly could and the towering steed reared up, charging forward towards the tree line.

The devil leaned over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the task at hand. This was no ordinary horse and it required more than the average amount of concentration to command. His gaze cut like steel, focus radiating off of him as he met his eyes over his shoulder. The angel paused, holding his gaze for a moment as they shifted from a trot to a gallop.

“Because I am without many things. But I am not without honor.”

(-~-)

Oh, part two of this chapter is gonna be FUN lol! Just two grumpy bastards being, well, grumpy! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! See you next Friday for chapters 85 and 86 and in the comments if you feel like leaving one! Bye bye!

[rex101111]

the best Vergil bit is still that one scene in DMC3, where we see him reach the site of his Ultimate Plan and he dramatically offers his blood, the Blood Of The Dark Knight Sparda, to a shrine with a completely serious look on his face, certain he's going to get what he was after...and then a little gameplay while later we cut back to him pacing back and forth with a honest to goodness huff and you can hear him clenching his teeth and his sword so fucking tightly when he shouts out "WHY ISN'T THIS WORKING!?" like a teenager banging the top of his computer, and then you hear him and see him take a deep breath to calm himself down because for fuck's sake he's the cool twin damn it.

It's a bit funny yeah but its a good reminder that Vergil is a nineteen year old kid. Way over his head, way over confident, and really pissed off that he has to deal with his annoying brother today more then he planned on. "Calm and collected" yeah, sure, so long as 100% of everything is going his way, the second one singular thing goes wrong Vergil is so very very clearly Dante's brother and its a bit of an eye opener to see our so called Cool Rival be just as impatient as the smarmy dude we've spent this whole time playing as.

[cerezzzita]

Sparda was fascinated with petit creatures, in especial babies — human or animal babies, but mostly human. In his field, they’re so little, so fragile, innocent and able to be whatever they wanna be; nothing like a demon that is projected to accomplish one unique function from the moment of birth and will die on it eventually. Just like he was projected to be, and yet he broke free from that cycle and managed to be something entirely new. Those little creatures have a whole constellations of possibilities.

So, when the twins were born, he wanted more than anything for his sons to be something entirely new as well, even if they had to follow on his steps at the beginning and well, they had to keep themselves safe and sound on that reality of being sons of the Legendary Dark Knight, the Savior of humanity. But just at the beginning, because they, as well, had constellations of possibilities. He only wanted the best for Dante and Vergil.

[karkesyc]

Husbandoctober countdown Halloween bonus: Dante of Devil May Cry.

Technically a game character, but because this series also had some animated projects, I'm counting him.

Son of the legendary dark knight Sparda who decided to live in the human world and start a company called "Devil May Cry" to fight other demons of his kind that abuse their power to hurt innocent people and find the demons that killed his mother.

For being the son of a legendary demon who has seen his share of horrors, Dante always had his sense of style, comedy and insults in the face of danger.

[put-me-out-of-my-destiny]

I've previously talked about the storytelling benefits of Vergil destroying Yamato in order to close the Qliphoth portal after DMC5. And I've shared a plot idea in which Machiavelli, the allegedly dead demonic craftsman who created Nelo Angelo's armor, approached the twins and offered to help them return to the Human World. I've also said what I think would happen if Dante was split with Yamato in a response to the questions anon.

This post combines all of those ideas. Picture the following:

The twins cut down the Qliphoth, then Vergil seals the portal for good, mostly destroying Yamato in the process (leaving only the hilt and some of the blade). This makes a big impression on Dante, who never thought Vergil would give up something so precious to him for the greater good. This is the beginning of the twins beginning to trust each other more.

They travel the Underworld together for some time, surviving, catching up, growing closer, when they are approached by none other than Machiavelli. Being the creator of the first devil arm, and many devil arms since, it's not hard to believe when he claims he knows how to restore Yamato. He only asks for their labor in return, for them to travel to various parts of the Underworld to recover artifacts and resources that he can use.

Both twins have a bad history with Machiavelli - though not so directly in Dante's case - but they consider his proposal regardless. Dante is inclined to take the deal. In part because he doesn't consider Machiavelli to be a threat, in part because he's desperate to return home, and in part because he won't let Vergil hide from Nero forever. Because there is more trust between the twins now, Vergil reluctantly agrees.

Tangent: if this were a game, this half would be played from Dante's perspective, if only because Vergil doesn't have a weapon at this point. There would be a cutscene establishing Vergil gaining a replacement for Beowulf.

But being Machiavelli, of course he has hidden intentions. What he really wants is to claim Devil Sword Dante, and use Rebellion's power to merge the human and the demonic to reverse Sparda's act of separating the Human World and the Underworld. This is because the war between Sparda and Mundus was profitable for Machiavelli, and as soon as the worlds were separated, the war came to an end. Machiavelli believes that combining the worlds again would reignite the war, allowing him to capitalize on it once more.

Machiavelli executes this scheme by capturing Dante - probably by tricking and/or ambushing him - and turning him into an Angelo knight. By subverting Dante's will, Machiavelli gains control of his eponymous sword.

Of course, Vergil is obliged to save Dante, and manages to free him before the worst comes to pass, but Dante's body has become corrupted, much like Vergil's was before he split himself in DMC5. Naturally, Vergil decides that he cannot allow Dante to die like this, and elects to use what's left of Yamato to cut the corruption out. And while Vergil succeeds, this predictably has an unintended side effect.

Dante is split into two beings, one apparently fully human, and one apparently fully demonic.

Dante's human half, out of a once-abandoned wish to distance himself from his true identity, begins calling himself Tony Redgrave. He's a chubbier fellow who looks a bit older than Dante really is. He doesn't enjoy fighting demons, and wants to return to the Human World ASAP, without reuniting with his other half, so he can begin his shot at a normal life.

Dante's demon half, self-named Morrigan, has other plans. This crow-like dark knight immediately seizes Dante's devil arms - leaving the guns behind - and begins working to prevent any being from crossing between worlds again. Morrigan would go as far as to prevent Vergil from restoring Yamato and returning to the human world, seeing Vergil's willingness to do this as proof that his choice to destroy Yamato in the first place never really meant anything.

Tangent: I didn't choose the name Morrigan because I like how it sounds. The mythological figure is a goddess of war, but also of land and sovereignty, a guardian of territory. And the very legacy that Dante upholds is to preserve the independence of humanity from the demons that would seek to rule them. The mythological Morrigan is also associated with fate, and to Dante, his responsibility is an inescapable birthright, not something he chose. This is also the reason that I described this Morrigan as crow-like.

Tangent: the mythological Morrigan is, of course, a female deity. I'm not necessarily opposed to Dante's demonic half manifesting as a woman. I could enjoy the symbolism of both Morrigan and Tony (Toni?) Redgrave being women, suggesting that Dante's gender issues aren't a product of one oppressive side of him, but of two sides of him that he hasn't fully reconciled. But a big part of why a female V would have been interesting is the association with Dante and Vergil's human mother, Eva, and this Morrigan is supposed to strongly take after their demonic father, Sparda. I just don't think Morrigan being a woman would fit, thematically, at least not during the events of this plot. Maybe there's something to be said about Dante being split into a female human with a traditionally male name, and a male demon with a traditionally female name? Second opinions on this matter are very welcome.

This event would also create nightmare demons like Griffon and Shadow, which Morrigan would defeat and wield as devil arms. I could imagine Morrigan wielding these against Vergil, and scolding him about that "you've never lost anything" comment that he made when he was Urizen. Unlike the nimrod in question, Morrigan doesn't deny the past, instead drawing anger, grief, and guilt from it as motivation. If anything, Tony would be the one who claims to have "no recollection" of his old life.

Tangent: if this were a game, these nightmares could serve as an excuse to allow Dante to have weapons from previous games despite being unable to recover them from the Underworld. However, it's just as possible and much simpler for him to encounter similar demons in the Underworld and obtain similar weapons, like King Cerberus or the various sets of gauntlets and greaves he wields.

Tangent: it'd be interesting if Dante also manifested a copy of Griffon, which Vergil recruits. He functions a lot like the Griffon that served V, but he isn't the same being. This is uneasy for Vergil, who never really got to say goodbye to the friend and ally who protected him for a whole month, then threw his life away for Vergil's own good, without even asking him how he felt.

Plus, I think the separation of Dante would also result in the separation of his eponymous sword. Morrigan would wield Devil Sword Sparda, leaving Rebellion's hilt to Vergil and Tony.

Tangent: I like the idea that when Dante is inevitably restored, and Devil Sword Dante with him, the sword manifests differently, reflecting his character development and rebalanced priorities. I like Devil Sword Dante's canon design, but I think it's weird that it doesn't incorporate the bone motifs present in both of Dante's old swords (Rebellion's ribcage and Devil Sword Sparda's spine). It's also a little disappointing how little has been done with the fact that Devil Sword Sparda can turn into a scythe. DmC: Devil May Cry features a scythe weapon with its own moveset, and it even has a version of prop shredder, that can serve as inspiration. Devil Sword Dante II's scythe moves can be in Swordmaster, with his summoned swords being moved to a fifth style like Darkslayer from DMC4.

It quickly becomes clear that without Tony as a natural supply of human blood, Morrigan is rapidly burning through power, and will eventually grow weak and die (kind of like V almost did). Of course, Morrigan wouldn't be above cannibalizing Tony as a means of prolonging the inevitable. The demon would see Tony as what held Dante back from fully embracing his destiny and doing what must be done to keep humanity safe and free, as what got Dante tricked by Machiavelli, as what caused Dante to entrust Yamato to Nero and make him a target for Vergil, and what caused him to spare Vergil at Nero's behest. Nonetheless, Morrigan needs to ensure the Human World's independence permanently, and aims to do so by killing Vergil once and for all.

Tangent: this is the half of the game that would be played from Vergil's perspective.

Vergil needs to convince Tony to reunite with his other half, which isn't easy. But eventually, Tony realizes that even without demonic power, he isn't truly human, that he can never be truly normal, and that deep down, he doesn't really want to be. I can't help but think of that scene in Spider-Man 2 where Peter Parker charges into a burning building to save a kid despite not having powers at the time, because losing his powers didn't make him feel any less responsible for the well-being of others. Dante doesn't just fight demons because he has to, he really does want to, even if it isn't always easy.

But Tony also comes to understand that Dante doesn't have to shoulder Sparda's burden alone anymore, that Vergil is ready to step up and be the big brother that Dante needs, a bit of growth that also coincided with the creation of Devil Sword Vergil (which Machiavelli played no part in). Then it's just a matter of convincing his demonic half, of reminding Morrigan that Nero saved both of them because he believed that Dante and Vergil could make peace, and that Morrigan has a responsibility not just to humanity as a whole, but also to Dante's family.

After that, Dante and Vergil are reunited, and they return to the Human World. The End. For now.

[thedivineimagecomic]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

PAGE - 24

Oh I've seen this one before.

[skelesass]

you belong to me

—-

Twitter | Ko-fi

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Here is the masterlist for Kinktober 2023!

Werewolves(Karl Heisenberg- Resident Evil Village)

Hair Pulling(Kyojuro Rengoku- Demon Slayer/Kimetsu No Yaiba)

Double Penetration(Hidan and Kakuzu- Naruto Shippuden)

Mirror Kink(Agedup!Denji- Chainsaw Man)

Threesomes(Jiraiya and Orochimaru- Naruto/Naruto Shippuden)

Monster Fucking(Prince Sidon- Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild)

Face Fucking(Ryomen Sukuna and Agedup!Yuji Itadori- Jujutsu Kaisen)

Lingerie(Sebastian and Sam- Stardew Valley)

Somnophilia(Legendary Dark Knight Sparda- Devil May Cry)

Overstimulation(Gyutaro Shabana- Demon Slayer/Kimetsu No Yaiba)

Sex Slave(Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto- Jujutsu Kaisen)

Bondage(ANBU!Kakashi Hatake and ANBU!Yamato Tenzo- Naruto/Naruto Shippuden)

Blindfolds(Alucard Tepes- Castlevania)

Body Mods(Aki Hayakawa- Chainsaw Man)

Striptease(Alex- Stardew Valley)

Creampies(Naruto Uzumaki- Naruto/Naruto Shippuden/Boruto)

Spanking/Exhibitionism(Jason Todd/Dick Grayson- Batman)

Role play(Reno Sinclair- Final Fantasy 7)

Cockwarming(Professor!Son Gohan- Dragon Ball Z/Dragon Ball Super)

Corruption(Zack Fair- Final Fantasy 7/Crisis Core)

Squirting(Shikamaru Nara- Naruto/Naruto Shippuden/Boruto)

Intoxication(Dante- Devil May Cry)

Uniforms(Tengen Uzui- Demon Slayer/Kimetsu No Yaiba)

Dub-con(Ganondorf and Link-The Legend Of Zelda)

Vibrators(Toji Fushiguro- Jujutsu Kaisen)

Aphrodisiac(Agedup!Tatewaki Kuno- Ranma 1/2)

Orgasm Denial(Agedup!Ranma Saotome- Ranma 1/2)

Dirty Talk(V- Devil May Cry)

Breeding and Daddy(Kento Nanami- Jujutsu Kaisen)

Praise(Son Goku- Dragon Ball/Dragon Ball Z/Dragon Ball Super)

Face sitting(Vegeta- Dragon Ball Z/Dragon Ball Super)

[devilsarchives]

The lies of a Rose “Part I”

Disclaimer: This headcannon series depicts themes that some readers may find disturbing, such as an inappropriate relationship between an adult and a minor. With that said, this is not a romanization of those themes so if y’all take it that way that’s on you.

The Lady in Red’s identity has always been a mystery. Who was she? Where is she now? And how come despite the fact that she’s Nero’s mother, the eldest son of Sparda has no recollection of her? Well, having put in a ridiculous amount of thought and time into this subject, I think I’ve finally come up with an answer;

Our story begins on Fortuna on April 5th, 1997. (2 years before the events of Devil May Cry 3) Vergil, who was 16 at the time, had traveled to the remote island in search of the truth to his fathers fate. As soon as he enters the city, it doesn’t take long for the demons to attack, unaware that he had noticed their presence the entire time. Like the cutscene from dmc4 se, Vergil cuts his foes down swiftly and moves forward.

As he walked through the crowded streets trying his best to blend in, a young woman watched from afar.

Her name was Beatrice, a 21 year old member of the Order who, like the majority of Fortuna’s citizens, had spent her entire life worshiping the legendary dark knight Sparda, believing that he would one day return and free humanity from demon kind once and for all.

She had passed by Vergil in the cities marketplace, catching a small glimpse of his white hair. She had never seen anyone with that color, at least, not someone as young as that boy appeared. Apart from that and his cloak, Beatrice quickly deduced that he was a visitor who clearly had something to hide, so when she saw him entering the local library, she followed.

Trying her best to remain unseen, Beatrice watched him speak briefly with the librarian before heading upstairs to where all the historic records were kept. She asked the librarian why the visitor had gone up there, to which the older woman replied “He wanted to learn about the Savior.”

Beatrice found this news interesting to say the least. An outsider coming to Fortuna seeking knowledge about Sparda wasn’t unheard of. In fact, a vast majority of the city was made up of travelers who had been converted. But if that was the case, why had he not gone straight to the Opera House? Surely if the visitor had questions about the Order, he’d want to speak with his holiness, right?

Confused by all this, Beatrice decided to visit Fortuna Castle, the current base of operations for the Order’s highest members. There she requested a meeting with his Holiness, but was denied this request by her brother Sanctus, his holiness’s 2nd in command/ lieutenant. When told he would pass the message along, Beatrice informed him of the visitor with white hair wandering around town. Sanctus had already received a similar report from the guards posted at the entrance and was aware of the strangers presence, as well as their impressive abilities in combat. He had a hunch about the visitors true identity, but if he was going to convince his holiness of anything, he needed proof.

Sanctus gave Beatrice the task of observing the boy and reporting anything else she learned about him, which she gladly accepted.

For the next few weeks, Beatrice followed Vergil wherever he went. When he wasn’t at the library reading up on the legends of Sparda, he would secretly spectate during morning worship at the Opera House. Sometimes she would catch him snickering a bit during the sermon, never figuring out why as nothing his holiness preached had ever been humorous.

For whatever reason, the stranger didn’t spend his nights in an inn or a hotel. Instead, he sought refuge inside Port Caerula warehouse. It was hardly ever in use and guard patrols rarely took place in that area, making it the perfect place to lay low. Beatrice would go to the warehouse and remain outside, but not by choice. Vergil had place a barrier around the door, obliterating demons instantly once they made contact. Fearful that she would meet the same fate, Beatrice decided to remain oblivious to whatever went on inside that building, telling Sanctus that she could never figure out where the visitor spent the night.

After a month of fruitless observation, Beatrice began to think that maybe the visitor was just that, a visitor with zero ulterior motives. She was prepared to give up on her assignment entirely, until it happened…

Scattered across the island were many Hell Gates. In the past, the demon king Mundas had built them to transport his armies into the mortal realm to aid in his conquest of the mortal realm, however, upon being defeated by Sparda, the hordes were repelled and the gates were sealed off.

Centuries later, a mining expedition would take place near one of the gates. There would be a few encounters with demons, but nothing the city guards couldn’t handle, and so the worker could do as they pleased along as they followed one simple rule; Never touch the Gate.

Of course, like all rules, they would eventually be broken. A group of workers who were drunk from a party and had wandered far away from the others. They approached the gate and began daring each other to lay one finger on it. The “bravest” of them eagerly agreed to the challenge and recklessly placed his entire hand on the stone. There was a moment of silence before the ground began to shake and dark, demonic laughter invaded the workers mind. Before he or his friends had time to react, a hellish portal opened within the gate, allowing a monster to step through.

In the underworld, he was known as Berial. As one of Mundus’ many offspring, he was a true force to be reckoned with, proclaiming himself as the conqueror of Hellfire itself. He had been hellbent on making the traitor Sparda pay for his crimes against their kind, and now that he finally had a way into the Mortal Realm, he wouldn’t stop until that goal was achieved.

Stepping into the earth, he let out a roar that unleashed a supernova, laying waste to the structures around him, as well as the foolish workers that had opened the gate. Mass panic spread throughout the city, guards rushing people to safety while Sanctus led his best men towards the threat. As Beatrice ran with the others, she spotted the visitor running in the opposite direction. Against her better judgement, she did what had been doing from the start and followed, eventually finding herself standing with Sanctus. Both watched as the visitor approached the demon lord and discarded his cloak, showing no signs of fear or hesitation. Berial instantly knew who the young man one, saying he had Sparda’s blood flowing his his veins, shocking everyone, especially Sanctus.

The visitor took hold of the hilt of his blade and drew it, revealing that his name was Vergil and proclaiming that the demon would die by his hand. Angered by the young man’s complete disregard for his might, Berial moved to strike Vergil down, but to his and everyone’s surprise, the young man countered it with ease, initiating a fierce battle between the sons of two rivals.

Though Berial’s size and strength made him a fierce opponent, he truly was no match for Vergil. The teens inhuman speed and reaction time were astonishing to witness as he had accurately predicted the demons lords every move, allowing him to break through Berial’s defenses and land every single attack effortlessly.

Meanwhile, Sanctus, his men, and Beatrice were left speechless. They had all grown up hearing about Sparda’s power, yet never imagined they would witness it for themselves. It was clear to them who Vergil really was, and for Sanctus, this revelation opened to door to many opportunities, ones he was more than willing to exploit.

Pushed to the limit, Berial conceded to Vergil, swearing to return for a rematch once his power was restored. Though displeased at his opponents cowardice, Vergil honored the beasts word and allowed him to escape through the Hell Gate.

With the threat gone, Vergil retrieved his cloak, making direct eye contact with Sanctus before using the Yamato to teleport away from the seen. Sanctus ordered his men to go looking for Vergil immediately, waiting until they left before addressing his sister;

Sanctus: I know you’ve been lying to me.

Beatrice: Lying to you? What would I have to lie about?

Sanctus: Don’t play me for a fool, I know you’ve been aware of where that boys has been staying this entire time.

Beatrice: I-I’m sorry brother! I c-can explain-

Sanctus: No need, I understand completely.

Beatrice: You do?

Sanctus: Of course, after all he is an impressive young man.

Beatrice: I suppose…

Sanctus: Quite handsome too.

Beatrice: Well yes- what’s your point?

Turning to face Beatrice, Sanctus placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

Sanctus: My point, dear sister, is that you have my blessing to pursue him.

Beatrice: As…what exactly?

Her brother grinned darkly.

Sanctus: As a lover of course!

And that concludes Part I of my multi-part Lady in Red headcannon series. Sorry for this first one being so long, there was a lot to cover and tbh I can’t promise Part II will be any different. I’ve had this headcannon for a good minute now and while I’m not quite ready to turn it into a full fledged fanfiction, I really wanted to get it out there. Ill try to post a new entry every day, so if anyone has any questions or thoughts please feel free to comment and please reblog as Likes unfortunately do little to bring attention to posts on this app 🙃. Anyway, bye for now.

[phonkscribes]

Sparda is such a wife guy. He really treasures his S/Os because of their mortality in comparison to his own. At any moment he may lose them and that is something that definitely eats at him. He doesn’t like to display his concern because of who he is and what he’s become, but it’s hard to ignore. His protectiveness of his S/O is cranked up to the max setting too once he’s claimed them. If someone or something hurts them, he gives it the most withering glare while having a totally relaxed and nonchalant face like.

“Ah! Pesky thing, we could really do without it, couldn’t we?”, he asks, just before he’s about to obliterate it.

The legendary dark knight doesn’t take very kindly to others being disrespectful to his love either: for example, let’s say if one of his sons were acting unruly and causing them trouble.

“Dante”, he starts, voice heavy with that deep growl and that certain look in his eyes. It’s all he needs at most to straighten out the wild child. He’s glad that he didn’t have to be so stern with Vergil who was more tame than his brother, but still.

There won’t be anyone in this world that should cause them grief but himself. He was rebellious in his youth and that carries over even now. It’s all in good fun, and if there is anything that they truly hate that he does, he’d cease it in an instant.

[rat-and-chupacabra-inc]

Nero Sparda Rewrite (Devil May Cry)

When i first watched the cutscenes for Dmc4, we had a slight dislike for Nero. Which was mostly based on the fact that he feels a lot like another Dante and didn't really fit the Games premise. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact this kid with a demon arm and white hair came around and they were like "oh yes your allowed into this church" yes. He fights demons (which could be them using him as a knight) in the beginning yes he hides it in a cast but come on. He couldn't have been doing that forever so We came up with a worse idea.

A Child washes up on the lake behind The Order of the Sword, Where Sanctus finds him, crying, blood flowing from his tiny body. Similar to stories of the Messiah, they take him in and take in account his impressing healing abilities. 5 sisters are assigned to raise him while they pledge they know of their new savior, but that he must be hidden away from the public eye. Praising the heavens and the Father for this gift of divine.

Until around the age of 7. The child's arm begins to grow dark blue unnatural veins starting at the finger tips, morphing into sharp claws and glowing tendons. It's then they realize the full demonic power of the boy, his arm glows and holds power inhuman, sharp razor teeth (that has something to do with my redesign of all the sparda family in general). Thinking he may have been cursed by some unholy force, they baptize him repeatedly, every day for hours. Praying over him, doing everything in the highest power they can to try and reverse the curse he's obtained. As we know though it's not a curse, and the veins continued to spread until his entire arm glowed blue. The boy was claimed to be under demonic possession. In attempts to 'exorcise' him, they cut off his demonic arm and hurt him, refusing to give him real treatment, only patching both of his eyes and arm stump with dirty bandages never to be cleaned or redone, blinding him. To keep him away from people, he must be even more isolated. So they did the most rational thing and chained him behind the Main Sparda statue, guarded by gates and hidden from the public eye still.

(The thing with the Order of the Sword here is that they don't worship Sparda directly, they use him as a symbol of overcoming sin but they still worship God and condemn demons.)

Sanctus baptized the rest of the children they took in and the idea of not being around him was branded into their minds. But that didn't stop them.

Like goblin children usually do behind the backs of the harsh sisters, they ridiculed him at any chance. Calling him the antichrist, throwing rocks at him and even as he grew older, Credo used him at training practice. But by the second his senses became stronger, even if he couldn't see he started becoming more sensible to noise. The feeling of sword swings, steps. As more time passes and he isn't removed like they said he would be, he's able to detect movements of meters away based on vibration. He grows to adapt to fighting styles and learns to fight back.

By the 4th Game, he's grown to 17. The chain never changed, leaving a gaping scar on his neck (its damage done over many many years which makes me think it wouldnt heal? Well yes heal. But stay deformed) Dante arrives to assassinate Sanctus. With a sword from a fallen soldier, Nero attacks him. With the swing of Dante's sword, his chains are cut from his neck(ripped off and bleeding) and he's free. Dante escaped and Nero goes after him, still holding the belief that Sanctus is a loving higher power. Also getting an in my head cool game mechanic, where the games vision blurs at points if not goes out for seconds as Nero moves along his mind, to simulate his blindness to the player and his mental state becoming more and more messed up as he feels more in control. His final main weapon became a giant great sword that encased the Yamato hidden inside. (Part of Dante's mission to find)

While fighting, his objective changes. From revenge for Sanctus to learning about their deceit, instead putting the pain he has felt for years on someone or something not him. Leading up to the end of the game where after rescuing Kyrie and she promptly rejects anything to do with him, he loses it, getting the church together to declare himself as the new god to be worshipped, reclaiming his lost title of the savior he once had. He begins threatening and hurting civilians in the process with weapons he got on his way through the game.

The final battle is of Dante fighting Nero instead of the weird plot of a giant statue. Once he's down, Dante picks him up and chooses to fix him up instead of killing him. A very slow and painful process which often takes more efford than Dante is willing to give him but it works out also Nero is uh. A Healer now bc he finds that helping people brings him joy. Yes, he can fight but prefers to help civilians out of the situations he follows the crew in 5. (Long hair DMC4, buzzcut DMC5)

There's many more lore plot details but they're secret<3 We hope you like this weird au we've been waiting for a little while. We've been working on it for a while and are proud of it. It's not 100% finished but we're proud.

-(Rat the blue one)

{R&C}