#sir angelo the strong

[cult-of-the-eye]

are you a male character that initially came off as an arrogant twat and then later on we realised he was really just a big old himbo? then you may be entitled to Bisexuality

[murderandcoffee]

SIR ANGELO AND OLALA'S FRIENDSHIP IS EVERYTHING TO ME 😭😭😭

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

How successful would Sir Angelo the Strong…

Propaganda for the mic skills:

Okay, this is probably his weakpoint, he is over the top and loud and all that, but he is very complimentary to those he fights even if something like "Use your weapon all you like, Marc. Once Sir Angelo the Strong has started his charge, nothing can stop him. Prepare to leave this ring" is a quote from him, moments before not even the edge of the ring stopped his charge.

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Propaganda for the wrestling skills:

He is Sir Angelo the Strong for a reason, might have to train him on the specific moves and general safety but he could absolutely give an entertaining match, he probably could pick up two guys at once if he wanted to.

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Would you like to submit a character? Click this link if you do!

[floralprintsharks]

can you do more alengelo? Maybe kissing and 2 or 9?

Ser Caroline likes to inform Angelo that he's way too impulsive and as is most often the case, Ser Caroline is entirely correct. Angelo has never particularly seen this as a bad thing because more often than not his impulses have saved his own life or—more importantly—the lives of innocent bystanders.

In social situations this has proven less effective and less redeeming, which never much mattered while Angelo was surrounded by knights. That is to say, fellow men who act much like Angelo.

He's not among his peers anymore, now. Ser Caroline is a knight but she is not a man. Which is not to say that Angelo thinks of her as less of a knight because of that, no. She simply acts very differently from all the men in the barracks.

And then there is Quanyii, who is neither a man—most of the time—nor a knight, Olala, who is decidedly neither of those things and, of course, Ale. Ale is a man but not a knight and also not a man like any Angelo has ever met before. He doesn't care about knights or about the… comradery that used to connect Angelo to his brothers-in-arms.

He cares for things like manners and would never make a crude joke about a woman's bosom, for example. Something that Angelo never much cared for, but partook in anyway if only for the spirit of belonging.

Angelo isn't sure when his mind started running in such circles. The fact of the matter is that he is impulsive and is trying to become less so, and that this attempt proves difficult when all his traitorous body wants to do is be one single, huge, hot-headed impulse.

By the Saints, if Damien were here, maybe he could give Angelo a lesson in becoming more thoughtful and serene. Angelo always thought that Damien took the whole thinking thing a little too far so that it turned mostly into overthinking, but perhaps if combined, their two traits could become something powerful.

"I didn't know you could play the lute, Miss Quanyii", Olala says from where she sits by the fire, her tail swishing behind her excitedly as she listens to the jaunty tunes Quanyii is playing for them as they finish dinner.

"Olala, I'll have you know I possess many artistic talents", Quanyii says, looking pleased with herself. Olala makes a little, impressed ooo-sound.

Caroline snorts.

"Don't get her started or she'll play the harmonica next", Caroline grumbles.

"What's the harmo—"

"Olala!"

"I'm sorry, Ser Caroline. I never learned to play a musical instrument and so I'm curious about these things."

"Well, let me tell you that you don't have to learn the harmonica and especially not from Quanyii", Caroline assures her.

"Babe, stop being mean to me! You never let me practice!"

Angelo lets the conversation wash over him because he gets distracted by Ale tapping his foot to the sound of the melody while he finishes the rest of his fried fish. There rarely was any dancing in the back in the Second Citadel, but while Angelo still lived with his family he used to dance with his sisters and mother all the time. As he watches the rhythmic tapping of Ale’s foot he wonders if Ale likes dancing. His movements during combat suggest that he is an excellent athlete as well as extremely elegant.

And because Angelo is who he is and once a thought has entered his mind it’s already too late to stop anything, he gets up and steps over to where Ale sits on the ground.

“May I have this dance?”, he asks.

Ale looks up at him, his beautiful face illuminated by the flickering light of their campfire. Quanyii makes a sound that turns Angelo’s cheeks into a color somewhat akin to tomato sauce and Olala claps her hand in excitement. Blessed be Ser Caroline who only rolls her eyes because she doesn’t care for any emotional outbreaks that don’t involve shouting at people.

“Didn’t know you could dance, schoolboy”, Ale says and reaches his hand out to grab Angelo’s and allow him to pull Ale up into a standing position. All of a sudden Angelo is unsure—he only ever danced with women before. Who leads now that he’s about to dance with another man? Will Ale be insulted if Angelo tries to lead? Will this suggest that Angelo doesn’t take him seriously? Will—

“Relax, alright?”, Ale says with a chuckle. He must have seen something in Angelo’s expression because his shakes his head in a way that seems almost endeared. “I’m alright with you leading.”

Angelo lets out a sigh and nods, suddenly feeling very shaky in the knees and fuzzy in the belly. He could swear that Quanyii slows her song down, which makes him sweat nervously. But Ale looks up at him with a quirked eyebrow and a smile that is half amused and half something that Angelo cannot place. He takes Ale’s hand into his and places one hand on Ale’s hip before starting to turn him around.

Around the fire they twirl and step, Ale following his lead which makes Angelo feel all sorts of things. For an irrational moment he wishes this moment could last forever, that they could turn and twirl around this campfire until the end of all days without having to worry about evil magics and murderous deserters and the bad that is in this world.

Angelo’s heart far surpasses the beat of the music in speed as he turns Ale around and then turns him again and Ale laughs a little breathless laugh that makes Angelo’s heart stumble and his soul soar. Ale is happy. He is having fun. When Ale raises his one arm to twirl Angelo around Angelo can feel his face blush even more and a smile breaks over his face—a wild, reckless and joyous thing that he can feel reverberate through his entire body and soul.

“You are as excellent a dancer as you are a fighter”, Angelo says and his voice sounds as if he’s been shouting drills at new recruits for five hours.

Ale laughs.

“Thanks, schoolboy. So are you. Always good for a surprise”, he answers with a twinkle in his eye. Angelo has the sudden need to stand up as straight as he can and put a fist onto his chest. As the music comes to a halt Angelo turns Ale one last time and then steps back without letting go of his hand. His mind is filled with warmth and happiness and the second the thought of kissing Ale enters his brain, it was already too late to stop the impulse.

He leans down and lifts Ale’s hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft, dark skin on the back of Ale’s hand. When he looks up Ale’s eyes are bright and his lips are slightly parted. Angelo thinks he really must be the strongest knight in the Citadel to be able to withstand the impulse to kiss Ale firmly on the mouth.

“Thank you for indulging me, Ale”, he says and only reluctantly lets go of Ale’s hand. There is a pause during which Ale seems to consider something and before Angelo can start getting nervous again—truly, nothing has ever gotten him nervous until he met Ale—Ale reaches down to take one of Angelo’s hands in his.

Angelo is pretty sure that his soul leaves his body the moment that Ale’s lips, warm and soft and a little dry, press against the back of his hand. For more than one insane second Angelo thinks that he might never bathe again just to preserve the tingling feeling on his hand. When Ale pulls back and lets go of his hand he throws him another one of his lopsided smiles.

“Next time you let me lead”, he says. Angelo swallows three times before he finds his voice.

“That sounds like an excellent deal.”

“Quanyii, I changed my mind”, Angelo hears Caroline’s voice from seemingly far, far away. “You should definitely play the harmonica before anyone else decides to dance.”

[rcvcgers]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 - prologue

account masterlist | series masterlist | ao3

next chapter

18+ minors DNI

pairing ; sylus x reader

synopsis ; a teenage boy turns his life around when he steals from the wrong person.

word count ; 2.1k words

my god daughters ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ @velaenam , @flamedancer13 @blcknebula , @peachesandcremes , @rxelarailuj

Behind every great fortune, there is a crime. A crime that comes with a price, a sacrifice that someone is willing to make for the betterment of themselves and their family, their allies in the cruel world of the N109 Zone.

Those who live here know the law of the land. They know who is in charge and who puppets the crooked politicians and police force. They know not to disobey them, to not disrupt the peace that they have built among the families. Everyone who lives here knows their place in the pecking order and those who wish to move up in the world, to change their fortune and future, are met with the firepower of men who will forever remain loyal to the Don above them, a man who sits above everyone else and is willing to protect the peace of his kingdom.

Only a few are successful. Most cases end with bloodbaths, the ending of an entire family for the chance to usurp their spot under the Don’s wing. These attempts are always made by a group, never a single person, so imagine Vito’s — the current Don of Onychinus, the most powerful family in the N109 Zone — surprise when a lone fifteen year old tried to get the best of him.

The Don and his right hand man and Consigliere, Angelo, also known as “Alibi”, were casually walking through one of the N109 Zone’s markets. It was outside and the blood moon hung low in the sky, the smog from the buildings floating overhead. The Don and Angelo took their time, inspecting the goods that the working class of the city had to offer.

Imported fruits, spices, weapons, drugs, and stolen goods were lined up along tables. Women and men stand behind them, calling out at passerby’s, egging them on to get a sale for the day, the money needed to survive another day in the N109 Zone. The Don is generous, having bought plenty of fruit and imported goods such as olives from Aridum, a desert city that Onychinus has a base in, and even handmade jewelry that holds the finest of jewels inside of the metal casings that hold it together.

“What do you think of this? Do you think she’d like it?” Vito holds up a pearl bracelet, the iridescent coloring catching under the warm light of the vendor’s stall.

Vito, the Don of Onychinus, is a tall and burly man. He’s on the older side, yes, just barely in his forties as he runs the biggest and most powerful family in the N109 Zone. He has the heart of a lion, never gives up, and remains strong in times of need or when someone decides that they want to have a try with attempting to take down the faction. He exudes dominance and is a man to be feared. He knows exactly what to do and never strikes twice, the first blow forever fatal and devastating.

“She’ll love it, sir,” Angelo responds with a small smile, his hands folded behind his back. 

Angelo is much shorter compared to Vito. He still has muscles underneath his perfectly pressed suits. His hairline is receding by the day, though, and he ops to wear a hat whenever he can to hide the brown and gray locks from the world. His body is covered in tattoos while Vito’s remains blank.

“She will, won’t she?” Vito smiles, his heart always soft when it comes to his precious daughter, his only child.

A head of white hair passes behind the booth, red eyes trained on the pearl bracelet. He remains in the shadows and watches from afar, not taking the time to notice who it is he is about to steal from. He sneaks from around the booth and watches as Angelo passes off a couple of bills to the woman behind the stall, giving her a tip of his hat before following the burly man.

The teenager remains silent, pulling his balaclava halfway up his face, a black hat now covering his white locks of hair. He weaves through the crowd. He takes note of the guards who get distracted by baked goods, leaving Vito and Angelo as they turn down an alleyway.

The boy follows, quick on his feet, his steps light and airy, neither of the mafia men able to pick up on the gentle sound of rubber bouncing against the asphalt. His piercing red eyes remain on the velvet bag in Vito’s hand, the pearl bracelet inside, waiting to be snatched up by the teenager.

Right when Vito and Angelo approach the car, the teenager makes his move. He bursts out into a run, hand outstretched and ready to snatch the velvet bag. The car door swings open and the teenager is forced to jump to the side, sliding across the top of the closed dumpster beside the two men. The teenager plucks the velvet bag from the Don’s hand, pushing off of the large metal can, which reeks of spoiled food, and lands on his feet, barely stumbling before he takes off into a sprint.

“What are you standing here for?! Get him!” Vito screams at Angelo, who nods with a huff and takes after the teenager.

The white haired boy smirks to himself and blends into the crowd, slipping the hat onto another boy’s head and ripping the balaclava off of his face. He remains close to bigger groups and fits in with the crowd. He shrugs his jacket off and turns it inside out, furthering cloaking itself from Vito’s guards. He slips the piece of pearl jewelry from the velvet bag, inspecting it under the warm light, knowing that he’ll be able to eat for a week with the money he’ll get from this.

Life is hard for those who are not born into wealth in the N109 Zone. If someone is like the teenager, they are forced to steal to survive. They live off of scraps and the generosity of those who give them whatever they can spare. It is a ruthless way to live. One never knows when they’re going to eat next or if they’ll be the next casualty in a mob war that they never wished to be a part of, an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of a hit.

The teenager moves the pearl bracelet back into the velvet bag. He looks around, seeing the chaos of Vito’s guards happening in the opposite direction as him. He lets out a huff of air, a breathy chuckle. The teenage boy takes a turn down the street and pushes open the door of a pawnshop.

The teenager gasps when he is pulled back by the collar. He is slammed into the wall of the pawnshop, cheek smushed against the cracked plaster. The man who captured him leans in, his voice dangerously low and rough, “You don’t know who you just messed with, boy.”

The teenager glances to the side, catching a quick glance of the man’s tattooed knuckles, the cross catching his attention. Fear settles into his stomach, his body going cold and numb, as the man peels him off of the wall, keeping his hold on the back of his collar, pulling him along.

The fabric of his shirt cuts into his throat, threatening to cut off his air supply as he is dragged down the street. His hands immediately move to the collar, trying to release himself. He is pulled down the streets he just came from, people looking terrified as the boy is helpless in setting himself free.

He claws at the man’s hands, struggling to escape. The man does not move, he does not flinch. He continues on his way back to the alley where the Don sits, waiting inside the car with all doors open.

The teenager is thrown onto the wet asphalt. He hands on his hands and knees in an attempt to catch himself. He looks up, his red eyes meeting Don Vito’s menacing glare. Brass knuckles sit on his fingers, the metal scuffed and worn from his fights throughout the years.

The boy holds back his whimpers and the tears that threaten to flood his eyes. He stares at the brass knuckles and hardens his expression, brows slightly knitting together as he straightens his posture. Angelo stands behind him, his eyes burning into the back of the boy’s head.

“Where is it?” Vito asks with a sharp glare.

The teenager remains silent. The Don lets out a huff of air and turns to Angelo, waving his hand. Suddenly, the boy is brought to his feet. They round the car and Angelo slams the teenager onto the hood, his face connecting with the smooth, black metal. Vito gets out of the car, standing on the side that the teenager is forced to look at.

“I’m going to ask one last time,” he lowers his voice, eyes darkening, “where is the bracelet?”

“Pocket,” the boy immediately answers, swallowing the lump that forms in his throat. He continues to hide his fear, refusing to let the Don of Onychinus know that he is afraid.

Angelo keeps one hand on the back of the boy’s neck while he pats down his body. He reaches into the pocket and takes back the velvet bag, passing it off to the Don. He takes it and keeps his eyes on the teenager.

It is silent except for the sounds of car horns and the chaos Vito’s men are causing. The Don pockets the velvet bag and crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head at the teenage boy.

“It’s my daughter’s birthday today. You stole her gift. I hope you can understand why I had to get it back,” Vito’s voice is authoritative yet there is a gentleness behind it when he mentions his daughter. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” the teenage boy responds.

“Just a kid,” the Don shakes his head, swiping his tongue over his teeth. “My daughter turns ten today. She loves pearls.”

Silence befalls the trio. Vito looks to Angelo and nods his head. The man’s grip on the boy is released. He takes a step back, hands folded in front of his abdomen, and he keeps a close eye on the white haired teenager. The teen gets off of the hood of the car, fixing his posture as he stares at the Don. He cracks his knuckles and takes one quick look around the alley, trying to see if there is a way out.

“I’m in a good mood, so I’ll make you an offer,” Vito steps forward. “I don’t like killing kids. Never have. But you seem like a brought young man who can…excel in my world. I’ll let my friend here take care of you. You can learn all you can and when the time comes, you can choose to leave or stay.”

The Don Vito takes another step forward. He extends his hand to the boy, brass knuckles still wrapped around his fingers, and smiles. His canine tooth is gold, the metal catching the light, reflecting into the boy’s eyes.

“What do you say?”

The teenager stares at the Don’s hand. He takes a quick glance to Angelo, locking eyes with the shorter yet surprisingly strong man. He turns back around and gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

This is a way out of his shitty life. He can have a roof over his head and will be guaranteed protection from those who wish to hurt him. His belly will be full of food and he’ll never have to beg for scraps ever again. The risk is high if he joined Onychinus, especially under the Consigliere’s watchful eye. It is a risk that he is willing to take.

Anything to get out of the slums of the N109 Zone.

He steps froward and takes the Don’s hand, firmly shaking it. The man’s smile grows some more. One they release hands, the man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigar, Angelo stepping to his side and lighting it for him. He takes a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out and into the teen’s face.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks, looking down at the kid. The teen opens his mouth to respond but is quickly stopped when Vito holds up a hand. “You only get one name. You can leave your old one behind and change it to something new. Choose wisely.”

The teenager remains silent. His eyes flit between Vito and Angelo, taking in their slick smiles, inhaling the dry smoke from the cigar.

He has never had a name before, having been abandoned by his parents. Any names he has heard have come from movies and books, lives that he will never be able to live despite dreaming about them. One name in particular, though, itches the back of his brain.

“Sylus. My name is Sylus,” the teenager speaks, his name and answer definitive.

likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

[mokulule]

I've been on a Devil May Cry kick lately and I have a handful of stories kicking around, figured I might share a bit, see if anyone is even interested.

Untitled DMC fic - part 1

Fandom: Devil May Cry No ships, focused mainly on Nero and Vergil, though Dante will eventually show up. Summary: Weakened from his defeat as Nelo Angelo, Vergil has been in the grasp of Agnus and used to create the Angelos. Through a twist of fate he manages to get a broken Yamato early, but he's not entirely there mentally. Teen Nero has a no good bad horrible day and gets kidnapped for his trouble.

-

For the longest time he was nothing - at most a shade, a suggestion of something that once was - but she called to him.

She called to him and he was helpless to her mournful song.

Finally he held her in his hands where she belonged and her song rose into a joyful crescendo. For the first time in a very long time he felt air in his lungs. They were both still broken, but he remembered now:

They were Vergil and Yamato.

They were survivors. When they met opposition they cut through it. Even snapped Yamato’s edge had not dulled, all she’d lost was her reach, it only meant Vergil had to make up for it.

They walked and Yamato sang again and again for him. There was strange blood in the air, tainted, wrong, indecisive: couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be human or demon.

Time had no meaning, not as long as they lived, but then, suddenly there was white hair, stormy blue eyes and yelling, brash and loud and the first sound he heard with his ears.

Family, Vergil’s soul sang.

Dante, Vergil’s heart begged and it took a moment’s consideration to examine what that meant (brother, twin) as he diverted from a cut to a punch.

His fist buried itself in the boy’s stomach (it was only a boy), and he gasped and folded around it, even as he desperately tried to keep his opponent in view. Blue eyes met blue from inches away. Fear and pain crossed that too young face that was so much like Vergil’s brother.

He breathed in deep and shifted through the scents in the air - there was the scent of kin, strong so close to the source, but too much wrongness around, they had to leave this place.

The boy struggled and yelled and tried to dig his feet in when he pulled at him. Vergil growled - foolish nestling, this place wasn’t safe - and decked him, not enough to damage, just enough to stagger him. He walked over and picked his groaning form up under his left arm.

They had to go, now. Vergil breathed slow as he brought up Yamato. Then with no warning he cut the air and the portal hummed before him. Behind him there was yelling, but that was inconsequential, he had all that he needed as he stepped through the portal.

Oo o oO

Nero’s day had started normally.

He got up at five. Ate breakfast with a too cheery for the early hour Kyrie and a consistently grumpy at the early hour Credo. He fielded another lecture about his refusal to wear a uniform or even armor over syrup smothered pancakes that he frankly paid more attention to than Credo.

He shared a glance with Kyrie who smiled at him secretly, then raised an eyebrow. Nero relented slightly with a sigh because he knew Credo’s badgering came from a place of care, but he wasn’t about to give in entirely.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said getting up, sending Credo a cocky smile, “if my fellow knights ever actually manage to land a hit on me in training I will consider the armor.”

Credo looked like he’d bit into a sour apple. “One of these days your arrogance will bite you in the ass.”

Nero burst out laughing at the crass word out of Credo’s mouth. “Yes, Sir.”

He gave a poor imitation of a salute and then a wave to Kyrie, before he grabbed his standard issue sword and headed out the door. He pretended not to hear Credo’s sigh and the tired “what am I gonna do with him?”

Still, it set his teeth grinding. He slipped his headphones over his ears and turned up his music letting the fast beat and the guitar riff rush through him. Nero wasn’t Credo’s responsibility. He wasn’t actually Nero’s brother much less his parent, and Nero was doing well enough for himself.

He was 15 years old and already a knight. So what if he didn’t believe jack about the Order’s preaching, he was good at it. He got to protect people, like Kyrie. And no matter Credo’s stuck-up attitude, Nero knew Credo wouldn’t want anyone else at his back than Nero if there was a real fight. But Credo was also one step from promotion to Knight-Commander so he’d been gratingly proper and by the book even more so than usual, and Nero never did respond well to that.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and slouched as he walked through town. He ignored the hooded gazes of the devout that followed him with familiar disdain. He didn’t know why they bothered, they really should be used to him by now, but apparently they didn’t have anything better to do.

His left hand found the familiar grip of Blue Rose and he toyed absently with the weapon. She was a project he was working on and he was so close to perfecting her. Guns were only for hunting animals on Fortuna, but Nero saw no reason why they couldn’t be used to hunt demons.

In his opinion it made more sense than to pack yourself into a tin can and bat at it with a sword. It was just that demons healed so fast it was hard to do proper damage on armored demons when you needed both piercing power to get through pesky carapace and explosive power to do actual damage. It was why Blue Rose fired two bullets, with one staggered slightly behind - Nero almost had the perfect timing down.

He arrived at the local knights’ headquarters and mentally prepared himself for a mind numbing amount of drills he could do in his sleep. Good thing he had his music.

Hopefully there’d trickle some sort of mission in. Nero was raring to fight something.

Four hours later Nero regretted that as he arrived on the docks and the field of fallen knights. The scent of blood, metallic and tangy, was heavy in the air and Nero’s stomach turned in nausea.

Their target was cloaked in a ratty garment splattered dark with both fresh and old blood. In their human looking hand was a broken blade, whose state nonetheless hadn’t stopped the man (or demon) from slicing knights into ribbons. Something about the blade tugged at Nero like a hand squeezing his heart and pulling. He froze.

The two knights he’d arrived with ran ahead. Nero’s head screamed at him to move, but his body refused.

It was what saved him.

The stranger took a stance slightly bent over, feet sliding apart putting his center of gravity low. Nero didn’t even see him move. One moment he was there, the next he was on the other side of the knights and they were falling over, screaming in pain, that turned into terrible gurgling as their lungs filled with blood.

Finally, Nero snapped out of it.

“You bastard!” He screamed voice breaking. Blood rushed angrily in his ears, it pumped through his body as he ran forward. He hefted his sword ready to put all his momentum into his swing.

He saw his death in that stance, in the glint of a mournful broken blade. There was no way he could match that speed; it wasn’t natural, it wasn’t human. He couldn’t dodge. At most, he could hope to take out the stranger with him.

At the very last fraction of a second there was a change. Instead of a killing slash a fist collided with his solar plexus, punching out his air in a choked gasp and if he’d actually managed to eat his lunch before the alarm had been sounded he’d have lost the meal. Desperately, Nero kept a hold of his sword and tried to keep his enemy in sight through the pain.

It was then he saw them, inches from his own, cold and strangely vacant blue eyes, like a dead mirror.

Terror gripped Nero, like nothing he’d ever felt before.

Slowly he slid off the fist, which so easily held his weight. His knees hit the wood of the pier with hollow thumps that sent shocks of pain up his spine. His lungs screamed for air, but nothing was working yet.

A hand clamped down on his upper arm, hard and unyielding and dragged him up and forward. He dropped his sword, a rookie mistake, as he tried fruitlessly to scramble back. Why was he taking him?!Why hadn’t he just killed him? Why kill everyone but not him? He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a small child.

“Let go of me, bastard!”

Nero yelled more than that, he yelled himself hoarse, but he honestly didn’t know if he was begging or insulting or maybe just screaming.

There was a sudden pain in his head.

The world spun. He hit something else back first, knocking his breath out again. He didn’t know up from down.

Slow footsteps approached and Nero knew he should be trying to move away, to do something but he couldn’t. A strong grip around his midsection pulled at him. Nero gagged, tasting bile in his mouth. If only the world would stop spinning.

Something unnatural prickled at Nero’s senses before he was covered in bone-chilling cold that seemed to last forever, but which was only really the span of two heartbeats.

The band around his midsection loosened and he was dropped unceremoniously onto soft moist ground. Nero breathed in the scent of earth and decaying leaves. For a moment he was just happy to be able to breathe and allow his head to stop spinning, but alarm was slowly rising, because it hadn’t rained in weeks on Fortuna. There should be no rain softened ground to land on.

As he breathed the world slowly came back into focus on an old battered green spring horse and further back towering trees starting to turn into autumn colors. Damp seeped into his knees and elbows. It was colder here than Fortuna - wherever here was.

Blue Rose, his only remaining weapon, was digging into his stomach from where it was in his jacket pocket. It was deeply uncomfortable, his gut hurt so freaking much. He pushed himself so he rolled onto his side, biting back a groan and breathing carefully through the pain. He now had the assailant in view. They had sat down on a tree stump a few steps away, so still Nero almost thought they were trying to grow roots themselves.

He only had six bullets, three shots. No extra ammo.

Carefully, watching for a reaction, Nero pushed himself to a sitting position. He gagged as the world turned but he stubbornly remained sitting until the spinning stopped. Still his vision went double for a moment and though every fiber of his being screamed at him to do something, he didn’t dare waste a shot - not with the speed his foe had demonstrated.

“Oi, asshole-” He coughed, and his gut protested vehemently against the use of his muscles. He cursed inwardly, he hurt so much. “Where are we?”

There was no answer. Not so much as a tilt to indicate they were even listening.

“Why’d you take me?”

Still nothing. Nero remembered the vacant eyes and shuddered. Were they even alive? Or were they some sort of killing automaton? But then why had they brought Nero along?

Nothing made any bloody sense.

Whatever, Nero would just have to find a way home. Gritting his teeth against the strain, he got first on one knee and then onto his feet with the support of the spring horse which creaked ominously in a way that had Nero’s eyes dart to his kidnapper, fearful it would be what finally made him move again. But still nothing.

Maybe he’d run out of batteries, one could hope. Nero scrunched up his face against the nausea as he took a step away from the thing and a hand went to clutch at his hurting gut. He really hoped he wasn’t bleeding internally.

Another step, and a careful breath - not too deep, not too shallow, a careful balance between enough oxygen and not aggravating his everything.

One step in front of the other. His head pounded, ached in time with his too fast heartbeat. He’d almost reached the tree line.

It was enough to have hope soaring in his chest, but then there was a dirty cloaked figure in front of him and a hand around his arm. He got a shake, that rattled every thought in his head, and clearly he was going mad because it made him feel like a misbehaving puppy as he was dragged back, this time all the way to the tree stump.

He was unceremoniously pushed to the ground and his kidnapper sat back on the stump. Nero barred his teeth in a soundless sneer, but his anger was quick to be sucked out by the cold ground. The shadows had lengthened during Nero’s slow trek across the clearing that might have once been a playground. Without the sun, it was cold and it wasn’t long before Nero started shivering.

Oo o oO

Vergil rested, his energy slowly getting traded back and forth between him and Yamato strengthening them both. There wasn’t much of it and it would be very slow going, but Vergil had time.

A strange clattering sound was coming from the nestl- the boy. Brows furrowing he turned his head. He was shaking curled in on himself and it was his teeth which were making that clattering noise like an agitated marionette.

He blinked slowly as he pulled at old memories that felt sticky and thick like molasses and just as unwilling to give up their contents. Seconds passed in observation until finally it clicked: he was cold.

Vergil remembered the cold. He remembered shivering and hiding and running. His hand tightened on Yamato who sang soothingly back to him. They were together, nothing could hurt him now.

His head turned in the direction where he remembered a house. It would be adequate shelter.

Oo o oO

Nero was miserable. He hurt all over and he wasn’t yet convinced he didn’t have internal damage. He had no idea where he was because he’d been kidnapped, just straight up picked up like he was a sack of potatoes rather than a person. He still didn’t know why he hadn’t just been killed, but currently it seemed his kidnapper just wanted to have him die from exposure.

He curled in on himself teeth clattering, he was so freaking cold.

The attack came out of nowhere. His arm was suddenly grabbed in what was starting to be a familiar iron grip. He struggled to get his cold legs to move and he was dragged backwards, unable to get his legs properly under him.

“Wait!” He yelped, “where are you taking me! I can walk myself, if you just-“

A low inhuman growl coming from his kidnapper had Nero instinctively freezing and then going limp.

If the kidnapper wanted to drag Nero around fine. Maybe if Nero was lucky he would exert himself dragging his deadweight.

Sadly, it didn’t seem so. His kidnapper was the very definition of slow and steady wins the race and after a while dirt and grass was replaced by wooden floors. Nero looked around in surprise. They’d entered some dilapidated house that was somehow still standing despite what looked and smelled like old fire damage.

Nero was pulled further into the house and he wondered just where they were going. They passed what used to be a kitchen and Nero had the sudden thought that maybe he was meant to be a snack for later. Finally they entered something that might have once been a library and Nero found himself shoved into a corner. He didn’t have time to react before his kidnapper sat down right in front of him, leaving him stuck between them and the wall.

Nero tensed. Lying here he had time to take in details he hadn’t had the focus to do before and some things also became instantly more noticeable when stuck in close quarters indoors compared to outdoors. His kidnapper smelled terrible: like old blood and that rotten eggs sulphur scent demons sometimes had.

But scent, even terrible, had a way of losing power after a while and his kidnapper was also warm and Nero was very exhausted.

He slept.

-

If you reached this point I hope you enjoyed! Consider leaving a comment in the replies or in the tags, I would greatly appreciate it as it feeds the writing beast :D

My fics all get reblogged onto my writing tumblr here it's a better follow option if you're not interested in the more random reblogging on my main. You can also subscribe to the masterpost here for updates. Edit: Part 2

[purgatory-hotel]

PH character's real names and their meanings

Alastor - defender of men or avenger. I think avenger applies more.

Henry (Husk) - ruler of the house. Maybe not in the literal sense but if we're talking about a house of cards? Oh yeah.

Paytah (Sir Pentious) - fire. Metaphorically speaking I think this fits. He can stand up for himself and has quite a temper but that can be extinguished very quickly.

Vaga - meadow dweller in Spanish, but in Arabic means falling vulture or swooping eagle. The Arabic version applies to them more in a metaphorical sense. She's strong and confident like a bird of prey.

Angelo (Angel Dust) - messenger or angel. His family were devout Catholics so I think it applies in that sense. Could do with him being chastised growing up for being "unholy" (ie queer and mentally ill)

Baxter - baker. I don't think this applies.

Nyoko (Niffty) - gem or treasure. She spent basically all of her life repressing herself both in terms of personality and her heritage, so she's had pretty terrible self esteem and general sense of self. I think she yearns to be treasured for who she is. She was given the name Naomi to try and "fit in" with 1900s American society, and that name means gentle and pleasant. Very devastating to think about.

Mimzy - pearl, sea of bitterness, wished for child, rebellious, beloved. Pretty much all of these apply to her in some way, even if she only chose it because she thought it was a nice name.

[arwcn]

things sir angelo the strong knows for sure

lizards are real

dragons are also real

but they don't lay eggs

new dragons happen when a lizard slowly grows bigger and bigger over like a thousand years and when it's big enough it magically grows wings and turns into a dragon as a reward for being so big

lord arum is a lizard

he's big (human sized)

he's old (hundreds of years old) (ancient, really)

he has one more set of limbs than the average lizard

if you ask sir damien when lord arum is going to turn into a dragon he runs away yelling for rilla

[hesperidiumsky]

what’s ur fav little guy?

I couldn't possibly choose between little guys, so have a list (not in any particular order).

1. Sir Damien the Pious. He has anxiety. He has religious trauma. He has issues with his father. Clinging to him like a life preserver.

2. Sir Angelo the Strong. Light of my life. Huphuphup.

3. Gerry Keay. He does arson and was a ghost for a hot second.

Honorable mentions:

1. Juno Steel. He's not so much a little guy as he is a lady who is a PI and also a space criminal.

2. Gavroche. Little guy of all time. Even if he's not my primary little guy at the moment, little guy of all time.

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

theres a character from the second citadel/penumbra podcast called sir angelo, and almost everything he says reminds me of bell, they are in such a similar category of Odd and Unusual Himbo

some quotes for evidence:

"(another character: Who are you again?) HA! I see. That's a joke. A jest. Because you clearly know me. Because everyone knows me. Because I am the greatest knight in the Second Citadel. Which everyone, including you, knows. (LAUGHING) I am! Sir Angelo! Obviously!"

"It's one of those optical delusions! (other character: Illusions.) Thank you! It's one of those illusions delusions!"

"Duty does not rest for man or woman or Sir Angelo the Strong! Who also fits into the first of those aforementioned categories!"

"It's.... Well, thats no good. I'm afraid I let the dramatic pause go on too long and now I've forgotten."

"Ha ha! Never fear, little creature! Sir Angelo the Strong is here to guard you! Unless... you have evil intentions, which I have been informed is a possibility! In which case... much fear, little creature! Sir Angelo the Strong is here to... well, to still guard you, I suppose, but... it would be a very different experience, I assure you!"

theyre like! the same genre to me (especially bell in the groupchat with "Ah, I see, a playful affectation of a trial. Amusing! I concur he is guilty, though I know not of what and am trusting Roman’s judgment." was SO angelo it was so silly)

(also also theres a woman who is also a knight in the podcast called sir caroline and her and bell are the only 2 times ive seen like women go by sir in fantasy so thats also fun)

asldkjakdljadd this man does in fact sound like bells long lost twin

[cult-of-the-eye]

OH MY GOD IT'S SIR ANGELO'S TURN TO HAVE HIS ROMANCE ARC 💥💥💥💥 LETS GOOOOO 💥💥💥💥💥

[murderandcoffee]

diversity win! the two knights who are both best friends and rivals are bisexual (but neither of them knows it yet)!

[roycuyones]

Nestled in the heart of Nazareth, Cagayan de Oro, 8thspresso is a cafe born out of passion and purpose founded by sisters Gemarie and Monique on August 12, 2023. What started as a pop-up with a modest ₱600,000 capital quickly grew into a beloved spot for locals, students and professionals. The name 8thspresso carries significance blending their lucky number '8' symbolizing infinity with the word “espresso” and reflecting its location on 8th Street. Challenges such as managing a growing customer base and dealing with WiFi and power issues the cafe overcame these hurdles with resilience adapting to meet customer needs. They even found that limited WiFi access led to a temporary drop in customers but by introducing new food items and maintaining a focus on quality they brought customers back. Miss Gemarie who manages daily operations and staff training is dedicated to ensuring every cup of coffee meets their high standards never compromising on quality. 8thspresso currently employs six staff members double from its initial team of three and looks to the future with plans to expand by selling coffee beans and opening more branches. The cafe’s welcoming atmosphere attracts a diverse mix of students, board exam takers, young professionals and LGU workers all seeking a space to work, relax or connect. As 8thspresso continues to grow the owners aim to stay true to their commitment to quality and community striving to become a staple in Cagayan de Oro’s coffee scene for years to come.

Founded by Michael Angelo Bustamante a marketing graduate from Xavier University in Cagayan de Oro, Sports Lab began in March 2024 with a clear purpose to provide premium sportswear for leagues and events in CDO with a special focus on basketball and e-sports. The name reflects their passion for sports likening the business process to a laboratory an environment for experimentation and growth. With their workshop based on Nazareth Street, Cagayan de Oro, and their warehouse in Libona, Bukidnon, Sports Lab is committed to producing high-quality sports apparel all meticulously crafted from scratch by their dedicated tailoring team. Starting with a capital of ₱500,000, ₱1 million with equipment Michael faced the challenges of learning the tailoring business from the ground up overcoming obstacles like miscommunication and stress through problem solving and teamwork. With a team of five Sports Lab has earned its reputation by consistently supplying uniforms to leagues and sports enthusiasts growing their client base through partnerships and strong connections in sports communities. Their marketing strategy emphasizes collaborations allowing the brand to expand organically. One of their milestones includes providing gear for different organizations and courts in CDO further solidifying their presence in the local sports scene. Sir Michael sees Sports Lab becoming one of the top sportswear brands in CDO in the coming years with a focus on staying competitive, adapting to trends, and treating employees with fairness. His advice to aspiring entrepreneurs? Start from the bottom, stay consistent with your work and always keep up with industry trends.

The Overruns Republik started in 2008 with an initial budget of ₱600,000 to ₱700,000. It operated as a cafe store but soon expanded into selling shoes. It now has three branches one in Pabayo and two in Divisoria with five employees. The business is primarily run by family members. Their marketing strategy includes live selling to attract customers. They struggled to get bank support but as the business grew banks began offering them services. The business allowed the owner June Ryan Duran to acquire both a house and a car. Sir June did not allowed us to take picture with him.

Kirby’s Magic Kanan owned by Kirby De La Cruz, has been serving the food needs of students particularly those from Xavier University since it started in 2006. With an initial investment of ₱200,000 this sole proprietorship began as a family business built with a focus on affordability and convenience. It has expanded to employ seven people offering not just traditional "karenderia" style meals but also food packages and catering services which have been a part of their offerings for almost three years now. Although the peak of their sales happens during lunchtime the business has noticed that students are increasingly gravitating toward food chains and coffee shops making it more challenging to attract regular customers. To address this Kirby’s Magic Kanan has shifted its focus to catering which now generates higher revenue than their dine-in services. Sir Kirby hopes to refine the business and position it as one of the top food stores and karenderias in Cagayan de Oro continuing to build on the legacy his parents started while adjusting to changing market demands.

MACDO Models is a modeling agency was established around 2010 with an initial investment of ₱15,000. The agency offers modeling services and has successfully produced some of the top models in the Philippines and Cagayan de Oro City. One of their major challenges has been the lack of binding contracts, which has led to some models transferring to other agencies. The agency has achieved significant success. Led by Zoey MACDO Models aims to grow and become more well-known throughout Cagayan de Oro City.

During our interview with these diverse entrepreneurs from Cagayan de Oro City, several insights stood out reflecting both the challenges and triumphs of small to medium sized businesses. Across industries whether food service, sportswear, or modeling each business owner highlighted common themes of passion, resilience and a commitment to growth despite market shifts and operational challenges.

8thspresso, the sisters Gemarie and Monique showed how their love for coffee and community allowed them to transform a pop-up into a beloved local cafe. Their challenges particularly around adapting to customer expectations for WiFi and service taught them the importance of listening to their patrons and making thoughtful changes. It was inspiring to hear Miss Gemarie emphasize how doubling their staff from three to six people wasn't just about expansion it was about maintaining quality service,which has always been the core of their business.

Sports Lab, founded by Michael Angelo Bustamante gave us a glimpse into the complexities of entering a competitive niche like sportswear. Michael was candid about the steep learning curve in tailoring and production but his story also highlighted how resourcefulness and networking in the sports community have led to sustained growth. His advice to aspiring entrepreneurs is to "stay grounded and work their way up" was particularly meaningful as it was a reminder that slow steady progress often outshines rapid but unsustainable success.

Kirby’s Magic Kanan provided an interesting perspective on adapting to shifting market trends. Sir Kirby's journey from a simple "karenderia" to a catering focused business demonstrated the need to stay nimble. His ability to pivot toward catering services in response to students leaning more toward commercial food chains is a testament to his keen sense of market demand and adaptability. It was clear that family values and consistency play a huge role in his success and Kirby’s long term vision remains rooted in growth while respecting his parents’ legacy.

MACDO Models offered an insight into the highly competitive modeling industry where talent retention is one of the biggest challenges. Zoey’s experience showed how success in this field is often fleeting without the necessary legal protections. The agency’s achievements in launching top models demonstrate their talent in spotting potential and nurturing it. The next phase of MACDO’s journey appears to be more structured with Zoey aiming for a stronger foothold both locally and nationally.

Through these conversations it became evident that while each business faced unique hurdles they all shared a common determination to innovate and grow within their respective fields. Whether it was through pivoting business strategies, expanding operations or refining their product offerings these entrepreneurs illustrated that success comes from a mix of persistence, adaptation, and a deep connection with their customer base.

[volleytimes-com]

Italy: Italian Champions Perugia announced Yuki Ishikawa (and more from the club)

🇮🇹| Italian Champions Perugia announced Yuki Ishikawa (and more from the club) 👀👇🏼👇🏼👇🏼

Sir Safety Susa Perugia officially announced the signing of Japanese star Yuki Ishikawa for the next two seasons. He will bolster the team’s strong lineup alongside already confirmed Kamil Semeniuk and Oleh Plotnytskyi, and reunites with head coach Angelo Lorenzetti, marking a nostalgic return since his first Italian stint under his guidance in Modena during the 2014/2015 season. Yuki, a pivotal…

[elders-rps]

["Angelo"]

They're surprisingly strong, sir... even I don't know how they did it!

*While they went to the house. Luis sat at the dining table, with some wine, and some Fettuccine Alfredo on the table. Near him is a gun.*

Luis: “…….how much longer do I have to be in this shithole? I just hope Cielo dies soon…..surprised he isn’t coming to get me though. *Sighs*.”

*Luis gets up and looks at a photo of Sabato, Domani, and their parents.*

Luis: “Donde quiera que estén ustedes dos, espero que estén a salvo. Lamento lo que les hice a tus padres.”

*A few moments later, a knock is heard at the door, 3 fast knocks at the wood.

[mushr00mcryptid]

Back with some more @penumbrabang art! This art was for the first fic I got assigned to called Tournament of Hearts by the absolutely amazing @acesaru !!

Guys. I was absolutely enamored with this fic from the first moment I read it and Saru is so great at capturing Ale and Angelo's personalities. If you are a fan of the Second Citadel storyline or if you just want to read a wholesome, wonderful pining friends to lovers story, read this. I promise you won't regret it. I have already read the drafts dozens of times and I can't wait to read the full edited version after work today.

I was so excited to draw for this and I hope you all like it! Read the fic here: