#sometimes I feel a bit bad for not joining in further discussions or engaging otherwise

[riisinaakka-draws]

wip meme (...sort of)

I was tagged months ago by @vowel-in-thug, (thank you! ♥ )

@medusinestories also tagged me a long ago in another wip thing so I’ll sort of combine these memes now (thank you! ♥ )

Since I have no last sentences to write from a fic (as that was the original wip meme and I don’t write), here are some art teasers! Tactically cropped of course, to avoid major spoilers :D I’m really excited for some of these but also super frustrated of getting things actually done, so... you might see the final results in a few weeks or six months later, lol. And very likely some completely different things that I manage to finish before any of these...

I keep starting new drafts and ideas whenever I have the opportunity and time and then sometimes find it a bit hard to continue/finish/post some of the already existing works... but oh well, at least there’s something to look forward to ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  and I have learned a lot in the meantime! :D

PS. Sometimes I’m also astonished how much Black Sails has helped me to start enjoying doing art again. No other show or fandom has made me feel this much. I have a lot to learn of course but instead of that being yet another terrifying thought, it mostly makes me excited now. And for that I am forever thankful. Of course there are times when nothing seems to work and things go south, but “the spark” or sort of... yearning or hope or whatever it is, is there. And most of the BS fandom has been a tremendous support and inspiration, too. *gets little teary eyed*. So I’d like to say to you all (the fandom, the show):

Thank you for opening that door.

[aelaer]

[1/2] Now this is an actual ask as in asking for help. 👀 I have a problem with Steve and Tony. I spent too much time too early on reading anti/not-friendly post-CW fics about 'Team Cap', and because of that I have been unable to see Tony as a flawed human or Steve as a good person. It's a pattern I've become too familiar with, and even recent stories are often going into that sense. I have been trying for some time now to do something about it, but either the method was bad, or I couldn't

(I tagged a couple people in this post – if you were tagged, the question directed to you is wayyyy at the bottom! Feel free to ignore of course.)

You really hit me with a doozy with this ask. I might offend someone for not thinking the exact same way as them with… everything this topic entails… Steve, Tony, anti-fics. Followers from last year know what happened last time I talked about poor and OOC characterization in fanfic, lmao. Beware The Easily Offended! This Is A Critical Thinking Of Your Hobby Zone! I Am Being Critical Of Specific Types of MCU Fanfic!

Please don’t click the read more button if you can’t handle an opinion that might not match yours. Really. I’m fine with discussing different opinions in a mature manner but if you have issues with people saying they don’t like a specific type of plot, this post is not for you. (The read more button doesn’t appear on the original post for followers using the mobile app, but it works on desktop and in all reblogs. If you don’t see a cut and don’t want to read, just skip it, please).

Yeah. Okay. Moving on. Can’t say folks weren’t warned.

I’ve had this in my drafts for several weeks because of the abuse I got the last time I wrote something critical about certain plot points used in fanfic. I was definitely a bit reluctant to look at this specific topic from an analytical and critical look as I remembered that, but hey, it’s really easy for a coward to use a sockpuppet account and throw abuse. It’s harder to be a minority voice with stark opinions contrasting the popular trend. I’m okay with having a minority opinion amongst the MCU fandom.

(PS - you’re welcome to disagree with my opinions, so long as you’re respectful about it. Remember there are individuals behind the screens!)

Concerning Character Flaws

So the thing about really well-written characters is that they are flawed in some manner. Anyone who thinks Tony or Steve exist without flaws – and I mean real flaws, like arrogance, believing they’re always right, short tempers, and other *real* character flaws that both of these characters have – well, if they don’t think they exist with these flaws, how well do they know the character?

You don’t have to know a character well to be a fan of said character – there’s no rules about that – but if you’re going to write fanfic, and that fanfic entails the character you love against a character you don’t particularly like, I’d say any writer looking to do anything resembling a good job would do their due diligence in figuring out the strengths and weaknesses of both characters before writing the characters themselves. These mental lists of characteristics should be equal for both characters. No, “good abs” is not a character strength if you have no physical aspects in the other character strength column. You don’t have to like a character to still write them well.

Even professionals don’t follow this rule when, say, shows get new writers or comics get different writers, so you might consider me silly expecting those dabbling in fan fiction. But yeah, if an author wants me to take a story seriously as something with quality, I expect the characters to resemble themselves in some manner.

(This level of resemblance varies when you purposefully choose for the protagonist to be evil, be in a completely different time period, etc, but authors who do this *well* still get core personality traits solid, even if morality is out the window or the profession is entirely different. I have a lot of examples from the Sherlock fandom of total AUs that pull this off well – haven’t read nearly enough AUs in the MCU to have a good collection here).

But a resemblance of character, of capturing the three-dimensionality of a character, is what anti-fics simply fail to achieve. The characters they’re anti against usually suffer cases of Flanderization, if they’re not completely out of character altogether in showing traits that were never displayed in the canon, ever. I don’t know why anyone would be interested in such stories, myself, and remain baffled at their popularity. Is there some sort of enjoyment in seeing such a 2D rendition of a character in what is otherwise meant as a serious work and provides absolutely no sense of proper conflict between two characters? Not for me; it immediately takes me out of the story and when it gets too much, I abandon the story. It’s just not enjoyable for me. Turning a canon protagonist into a strawman is just lazy writing and offers nothing to the writer’s favorite, preferred character.

Concerning Steve’s and Tony’s Flaws

Every real human being has some sort of personality flaw that is decidedly unattractive. Some people are really good at showing it very rarely (and are some of the best human beings), but with these two characters we see them at their greatest heights and lowest of lows. Ironically, they actually share a lot of the same flaws, but display them in different manners in canon:

Both men believe they are the best man for the job and will do it without consulting someone who could actually fight against it - or go completely against them. Tony with Ultron is the easy example here. He’s the smartest man in the world and can tackle the issue of protecting it on its own. Steve, same issue, and his job is “helping Bucky”. *He’s* the one who can handle Bucky, the only one who can handle him - big thing in both WS and CW. If both of them had utilized their friends and allies a lot more, a lot of issues could have been avoided.

Both men are sometimes hypocritical. Steve promotes teamwork in all his speeches but again with the Bucky situation. Just… everything Bucky, man. Tony signs the Accords and immediately goes against them with what he gives to Peter, who most assuredly did not sign them (tangent: if he HAD joined the Avengers at the end of Homecoming, I have no idea how that would have gone since Peter would have had to reveal his identity to the UN and then there’s the whole ‘still a minor’ thing, and yeah, Homecoming’s end scene just makes me go nuts). But anyway, their occasional hypocrisy is one of the most realistic aspects of them because most human beings are hypocritical sometimes.

Both men are sometimes arrogant. Tony’s self-explanatory with his genius-playboy-philanthropist-billionaire. One thing he does not suffer from is low self-esteem in regards to his abilities. His arrogance comes from his genius. Steve’s arrogance lies more in his deep-seeded belief that he is on the moral high ground – and one reason I think a lot of people dislike him so much, because moral superiority is very much a faux pas in this day and age for some millennials and many Gen Z folk. He has a very, very solid sense of what is right and what is wrong, and that rubs some folks the wrong way. Tony is more morally fluid – but he is not by any means immoral.

Both of them have a really solid list of strengths as well. As this ask specifically is looking to find the good in Steve, I specifically Googled pro-Steve articles for you to click at your leisure (and one with both). If you need to go back to canon, I highly recommend rewatching The First Avenger and The Winter Soldier, which introduces Steve brilliantly and then lets Steve grow further in the second film.

(Note: I actually prefer Tony to Steve in terms of personal favoritism, but how a very loud segment of Tony fans have treated other characters has led me to be more vocal about the strengths of others, especially Steve and Wanda. So Tony might be in my top 5, but mean-spirited Tony fans have moved me to be a champion of other characters, if only to show other fans that there are indeed Tony fans that do like the other characters and treat them – and their fans – with respect).

Bringing Balance (to the Universe…) Fanfic-Style

This addresses the second part of your ask in regards to the fanfics. And this is where I started running into trouble, too, mostly because, well, just how many Stephen and Steve fics are there? Yeah, exactly. Stephen’s my main guy. So I did some research, outsourcing, and reading.

Here’s two I knew of before cuz Stephen’s in them in some capacity:

Identity Theft by KitKat992 - it stars Peter and both Tony and Steve play integral parts from what I recall. Good story too, very engaging.

A Dysfunctional Senior Year (series) by ApolloLoki97 - this also stars Peter and has a large Team As Family aspect, so it shows the entire Avengers team as just decent people. My favorite part is naturally part 3 because Stephen comes in that one, haha.

And to find other stories, I went into the Anti-Accords tag. It was nice to find fics that didn’t have such a love of hypocritical authoritarianism. Aannyyyyway.

Making Sense of Chaos by SparkedtoLife - mind the tags. Seriously, it’s heavy duty. Yet another Peter fic because he’s way more popular than my favorite character, qq. Lots of Netflix Marvel characters too! Anyway, deals with not only Tony and Steve really well (and has a different dynamic with Tony that isn’t IronDad, so that was a nice change of pace), it also deals with the Accords situation very realistically. And none of those are even main plot points. If you can handle the very serious, sensitive subject that is the main plot point, I highly recommended it. It’s a very masterfully done work.

Atlas by nanasekei - Stony. Treats all characters with respect and both Tony and Steve as three-dimensional, flawed humans with some serious self doubts. Also highly agree with the author that Thaddeus Ross sucks and is basically one of the biggest people to blame for Everything Going To Shit.

Homecoming by an orphaned account - Some Stucky. This is a lovely one-shot of things I basically wanted to happen when the team got together again but didn’t. Sigggghhh. Everyone is definitely in character in this one, traumas and healing and all. And look, another person realizes that trusting Ross is a really horrible idea.

Locks Not Replaced by Riverdaughter - first this writer has a Tolkien-based username so yay. Anyway, the fic starts off by Tony realizing that he almost killed Steve during the fight with his repulsors, and it was only Bucky that stopped him. Do people seriously think he’d survive a shot to the face with that power? This is one reason the ‘Steve tried to kill Tony’ people piss me the fuck off. What do you think those repulsors shoot, fucking rainbows? Honestly, guys. Anyway, mini rant over. This fic is great. Author comes in with a Cap favoritism but treats Tony well, and honestly Tony turning a blind eye to everything and ignoring Ross is what I like to think happened in canon (he clearly dislikes the guy). And also I love the Robin Hood parallels. Love love love. I think this fic is my favorite of the ones listed in this section.

Meeting Your Heroes by Riverdaughter - naturally after reading that fic I went to explore more and found this gem. She’s not incorrect in saying Tony wasn’t a good mentor at the beginning - I think he had his own growth after Peter’s actions in Homecoming especially (though even through Homecoming he was trying, just… not always successfully lmao). Anyway love these two together. It’s great.

Photograph by slytherclaw420 - A scene we deserved in Endgame and didn’t get. Sigh. Definite IronDad feels here. Hopeful Steve, rebuilding of a friendship.

And uh, an honorable mention of sorts:

Balancing the Scales by MoonFire1 - I’m not recommending this fic for good characterization or plot. It really doesn’t have either. The fic was written in retaliation for the nasty Tony fans completely trashing Steve’s character. You should only read this if you want to see the argument from “the other side” and if you want to see an anti-Tony fic like you’ve seen anti-Steve fics. Don’t harass the author though. This is presented as a counterargument to anti-Steve fiction, for those interested to read the other sides arguments. I don’t like the nature of the fic, but I loathe that “not Steve friendly” has 30 fucking pages of works with tens of thousands of kudos, so one anti-Tony fic (with a comparatively small three pages under that tag) really doesn’t compare. Ugh. I hate the anti culture in this fandom so much. Loathe it. It’s such a nasty energy! Why would you indulge in such negativity? But as I’ve mentioned before, I appreciate authors aware enough to tag it so I can avoid it. I wish that part of fandom culture didn’t exist, but well, can’t change it. Just can criticize the fuck out of it on my blog. Maybe encourage people to think less one-sided in the process if I’m lucky.

But there’s probably more good characterization Steve fics to be found, so I am forcefully recruiting two people via tag:

If you’re looking to dabble into Stony fics with good-guy-Steve, if anyone would know of any, I’d imagine it’d be @babywarg.

You don’t know this person, but @cairistiona7 has actually known me the longest of anyone here on tumblr (half my life! HALF! She even knows my real name :P She betaed a LOTR work of mine a decade ago I ended up never fully publishing… thanks again for all your help there…). Anyway, she’s a big Bucky fan, and Bucky friendships is the best thing. So if anyone would know any wholesome Bucky and Steve stories, it’d be her. (Or really I’d take any of your recs, Cair, as I’ll probably enjoy them as well).

I hope this was helpful to you md, and that I didn’t piss off too many of my followers in the process of answering this lol.

[shinylitwick94]

Finished R.F Kuang’s “The Poppy War”, first in the eponymous series.

I had a great time while reading it, but in retrospect it’s a bit weird/not actually that good.

I’d suggest giving this a try if you’re curious, but it’s definitely not a must read.

Further under the cut, because I can’t discuss this one without spoilers.

The book can be roughly divided into three parts: Rin goes to magic martial arts academy; Rin joins the army; Rin witnesses the results of the Rape of Nanjing and nukes Japan.

If that seems like an unusual escalation, rest assured that it feels that way reading it too.

The first part was, I think, by far my favorite. The Academy was fun and interestingly structured and full of classic martial arts tropes, like Crazy Wise Master, Arrogant Kung Fu Guys, Tournament Arcs and everything in between. It owns it, the characters are pretty interesting and it’s not trying to be more than that (yet).

The second part was my least favorite. Rin’s city is attacked and Rin is sent to this coastal city and joins the local special ops squad, which is also very very tropey, just not in a fun way, and they go on raids against the invaders. Some bits of it were interesting, but I didn’t like that we didn’t get to see what everyone else outside their squad was doing and I found most of the other characters in the squad uninteresting. They didn’t really establish any sort of tangible relationship with Rin either, other than Altan.

Finally, we have them witness the rape of Nanjing and Rin and Altan try to unleash an ancient evil, get captured by unit 731, and then Rin really does unleash an ancient evil and destroys Japan, apparently.

I knew about this whole last paragraph going in, so I can’t really say I was caught off guard by it. Still  it was weird. Up until that point there had been similarities, of course, between these fictional not-China and not-Japan and the real ones, but the Nanjing thing is basically copy-pasted into here and it stands out, a lot.

I will say upfront that while I like fantasy-alternate history hybrids in the GGK style, usually I don’t like fictional depictions of real life atrocities. If eyewitness accounts exist, why would I need a fictional character’s take on that? It’s why most WW2 fiction annoys me so much. And it’s really not too different here. The events fit the story, but you’re acutely aware the whole time that they’ve been transplanted from somewhere else and it just feels like there was no buildup and no justification in-story. Because there wasn’t - the author just decided they’d like an equivalent to these events.

As for Rin’s wholesale destruction of Japan, that’s obviously a bit more fictional, if still modeled on the nukes, but fits better because it’s much more directly connected to Rin’s character trajectory. In the Nanjing thing she’s just sort of a tourist there after the event. I do think I like the final part all in all for Rin’s character development, but, again, it’s quite awkward in parts and all characters other than Rin and Altan basically drop offscreen.

So plot-wise it’s a bit all over the place. There is an overwhelming lack of setup for anything that happens in the second and third parts. The pacing is quite engaging, but when you stop and think about it it doesn’t feel like A leads to B. It’s more like here’s A and here’s B and let’s take another total detour to C.

Prose-wise it’s situated squarely in the indifferent YA prose category. The writing is not bad, just bland and simplistic and not very engaging. But I’ve complained about this before and won’t go further into it. Let’s just say it’s not only this particular author’s problem and leave it at that. f-ing industry thinks everyone will be traumatised if authors write anything too complex for a 12 year old

I liked some of the characters - all of them are quite archetypal, but some are developed a bit while others not at all. I think I liked the Academy characters best, and then Rin herself and Altan. Probably because those are the ones who undergo any sort of development. The characters from Rin’s squad are just sort of...there. I’ve seen a lot of reviews point out that Rin’s character also shifts quite a bit between part I and the rest, and while I agree that she does change dramatically, I think it’s justified to an extent(she’s 16, not 12 and confronted with a very different situation), and the rest is a result of the plot doing a full 180 on us (which mostly invalidates everything she’d been striving for up to that point). I can see where that criticism is coming from and I agree it’s frustrating, but I’m willing to give it a pass on this one.

Oh and a final bonus point: Female teenaged main character and no romance in sight!!! Needle in a haystack right there.

I kind of regret going into this with spoilers because I’m curious about what my reaction to the final third would have been if I had gone in not knowing. I’m not sure if I would have been excited or pissed off tbh.

I’m going to keep a 5 star rating, only because I enjoyed it so much while readig it, and I feel that it would be disingenious to pretend otherwise, but really, in light of the above, it should be a 4 or less.

I’ll probably pick up the second part sometime soon, because I feel if I wait too long I’ll give up on it.

[ur-mom-kayn]

Happy Father’s Day

A little story about Vergil and Nero. DMC 5 Spoiler are included!

Several months passed after that 15th of June. After Dante and Vergil jumped into the underworld to cut the Qlipoth tree and close the gate from the other side, Nero took over the business meanwhile. Together with Nicoletta Goldstein, he traveled from A to B to root out the remaining demons in Red Grave City, so that the city became habitable again. Trish and Lady also helped out and took orders from Morrison to secure the rental of the Devil May Cry. The situation is pretty much normalized. While the ladies always ordered pizza, Nero preferred Kyrie's homemade. No delivery service is better than her. Fortunately, Fortuna was not far away from the others, so Nero always got home in the evening.

A big disadvantage had Dante's disappearance. Nero had far too many women around him. One was enough for him. He desperately needed male reinforcement again. Since he learned that he has a family, he was all the more eager for it. Unfortunately, immediately after he found out, he lost both family members. It was strange to feel something like yearning for a man who had missed all his development as a man. Vergil really deserved the award for the worst father of the year. First, separate his son's right arm and then disappear into the underworld.

All his life he lacked male role models. Credo was the only one who could show him to be a man. But even he had to find out for himself. Nero had little choice but to fight his way through life and find his own way. Looking back, he is very happy that he became a man on his own. Neither his father nor his uncle is suitable for a role model. Nor their dealing with conflicts or with women suits Nero. They fight like children and try to kill each other. Not to mention that they indiscriminately sleep with women and cannot remember their names the next day. Such a man Nero didn't want to be and he is not. Unlike the idiots, he loves and honors his girlfriend. For her, he would run through hell and take on any torture just to save her. Kyrie was his sun and at the same time the person who keeps him on the ground. She never asked questions about his job and distracted him from everyday stress. Her voice was that of an angel, even though she didn’t have the same musical taste as him, he was her biggest fan. In his eyes, she was just perfect.

...

Right now he was sitting at the dinner table with Kyrie, happily feeding her casserole. She had cooked too much again. Today, the house was exceptionally empty. No Nico, Trish or Lady. Everyone came to visit them constantly. Today, however, the couple remained under themselves and that was a good thing. Sometimes the others were just exhausting. While Nero was stuffing his stomach, Kyrie was preparing more things. "Honey now sit down for a while. I can not eat any dessert here anymore. I'm already overwhelmed enough." "But you need the energy. You have to become big and strong, after all," Kyrie joked. "Very funny. Now plant yourself and eat with me. Otherwise, it'll be cold." "Give me another 5 min." Nero let it to discuss with her. When he decided to continue eating, the doorbell rang. "Kyrie? Are you expecting visitors?" "No, but do you still want to look?"

Since the incident in the garage, Nero has been extra careful while opening doors. He could easily refrain from losing limbs again. As he remembered this incident, he looked into the face of the man who had put him in this position. "V-V Virgil? I mean, father? What are you doing here? How did you get out of the underworld?" "No hello?" Nero remained speechless for a while. He did not know exactly how to handle the unexpected visit. If Dante stood in front of him, he would have stupidly flogged and messed with him. But with Vergil was not so much fun.

"Yeah sure. Hello. Do you want to answer one of my questions now?" "One thing I can actually answer for you and that’s why I am here. I think my last visit was not very enjoyable. Also, I had no idea that I have a son. I just followed the energy of Yamato and everything else did not bother me a shit. Can you understand?" "No, I can not. I'm not going to cut a stranger's arm off just because he has the Red Queen. That's stupid." "We have different views. But whatever. At first, you did not care. I did not want to have anything to do with you or otherwise have a family connection. But the longer I was in hell with Dante, the more he told me about you. I became curious and had become friends with the idea of owning a son. Do not get me wrong. This is not supposed to be a reunion here. I just want to meet you as long as you feel like it."

He definitely did not expect that. Slamming the door in front of him did not work, but pretending that nothing had happened felt wrong. Nevertheless, Nero overcomes himself. "I can not leave now. There is still a pile of a casserole on the table and someone has to eat it, otherwise, my girlfriend will be uncomfortable. So if you do not already have plans, you can really join this time." "Thank you for welcoming me with open arms," Vergil answered, just walking past Nero into the house. "Hey! No jokes about that." Nero closed the door behind them and showed him the way to the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed was Kyrie, who was also preparing a cheesecake. Hopefully, Vergil behaved towards her. "Hey, Nero. Who brought you there?" Kyrie approached Vergil and looked closer into his face. "Dante? No. But the face is so similar. Ehm, I'm glad to meet you. I am Kyrie, Nero's girlfriend." Amiable as she was, she sincerely extended a hand to Vergil to greet him. Vergil looked puzzled at first but took the handshake like a normal person. "The pleasure is mine. I'm not Dante, but his older twin brother Vergil and the old gentleman of the boy next to me." Nero could see clearly how Kyrie froze a little bit. I hope she did not turn now. "Did I say something wrong?" "No, I think she did not prepare to meet her future father-in-law. Come let us sit." Nero went ahead and sat down. Kyrie fetched dishes for Vergil and then sat next to Nero, where Vergil sat in front of him.

"So, is it really that far, or are you not engaged?" Confused, Kyrie and Nero looked at each other. "Ehm, we never talked about the possibility of a wedding. We are still relatively young. That was more of a joke than serious earlier." Nero said visibly nervous. He did not want to say anything wrong and annoy Kyrie. She smiled confidently and hooked on Nero's right arm, which was the normal human arm at the time. "Nevertheless, I was somewhat surprised to meet the other son of Sparda out of nothing. I'm basically overwhelmed with your family history. "Vergil looked skeptically at Kyrie. "How is that meant?" "Well, you should know that Kyrie believes in a religion where Sparda resembles a deity. The fact that she was allowed to meet Dante was an ‘honor’ for her, and when it came out that I'm practically the grandson of Sparda, that brought the cask to overflow." Nero had to smile over it again and again. "Hey, do not make fun of me. What else is left to us humans than to hope for a savior?", Justified his girlfriend. "Sry, it's funny. You know me as a human. Then we come closer, suddenly I am a demon and save your life, we become a couple and a long time later you find out that you are in fact with the grandson of your Almighty together. That's just the funniest thing I've ever heard." "Yeah, but I love you for your personality and not for your roots." "I know, I just wanted to joke you." Nero patted Kyrie on the head as if she were a good kitten. He realized that she was blushing slightly.

Vergil watched the spectacle and began to eat. Nero stopped annoying Kyrie and also continued his meal. His girlfriend recovered and smiled happily. "And does it taste good? May I bring you something to drink?" "It tastes excellent. Haven’t eaten anything so good for a long time. I do not want to cause you any trouble, but a glass of water would be just right." Vergil was surprisingly polite. Nero did not know this side of him. Basically, he did not know him. So far, he was only allowed to see the bad side. That he had good, he dared to doubt strongly. But right now he seemed like a gentleman to him or maybe that was just his style for appearing well with women. Anyway, Kyrie seemed quite flattered and brought Vergil his drink. "Thank you". he replied as he took the glass.

"So I just ask again, what's Dante doing?" Nero asked curiously. "Hm? This idiot? Well, he's definitely with his girls and eating pizza." "So you did not fight any further and returned home together?" Vergil grinned and shook his head lightly. "I think it would be a lie if I said that we had not fought each other. Of course, we hit each other's heads at every opportunity. But as soon as a horde of demons arrived, we switched focus. We have agreed that it is much fun to fight, as we end it by death." "Then you have settled your dispute?" "Postponed," Vergil answered curtly. Nero was satisfied with the answer. He would not get out any more.

For a while, nobody spoke a word. They ate quietly and exchanged eye-to-eye contact from time to time. "Hey honey, it would be alright for you if I go for a walk with Vergil," Nero broke the silence. "Of course. As long as you only get well and well home, I do not much care what you do." "Thank you for your confidence." Nero leaned into Kyrie and kissed her gently on her cheek. Then he got up and brought his plate to sink. Vergil wanted to do it like him, but then Kyrie stopped him. "Let me do that. Just amuse you both. ", She smiled at him. Vergil then left the dishes and went out of the door. Nero quickly grabbed his weapons and joined him. "Where should we go?", His father asked him. "No clue. The main thing is that we are among us.", He countered. "Does your girlfriend bother you?" "No. I just do not want her to hear me speak real talk. I tend to give one or two bad words. She knows that I am like that, but still I try to avoid it." "You realize that she is a saint." "Of course! She is way too good for me. She is such a great person and I... am a monster. Often I have to listen to why Kyrie is ever with such a guy like me. "

Vergil laughed amused. "She loves you. What does it itch you, what others think of your relationship with her? Should not you just be interested in her opinion?" The two men just walked down the street with no apparent goal. "Yes. Ultimately, I'm only interested in her opinion. Which is also why I try to be a better person and curse less. Oh, what am I talking about, I'm not even a human." "But you are. I only slept with human women, if I recall correctly, and I myself am half human. Demon or not. Your actions characterize you and not your race. My dad was a demon too, but was he evil? I do not think so. The same goes for you. You have a healthy sense of justice." "Was that a compliment?" Nero questioned. His father only shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe you are right. What about you? Are you evil? "Vergil raised an eyebrow in question. "That is, I think, a matter of opinion. I do not want to answer the question." "You basically do not like answering anything. Come on. Let's have a drink, maybe I'll finally find out what kind of man my father is." Nero feels like in a cat and mouse game. He had to tickle information out of Vergil and he does that only by telling things about himself and only giving Vergil his reaction to it. Annoying as he found. "Do you drink alcohol?" Vergil asked. "No, but I can start with that. And you?" "I never say no to good scotch. But compared to my brother, I behave more than a nun." Nero laughed uncontrollably. He knew for sure that Dante liked to let it crack as soon as he had a little money. Or he ate full of Strawberry Sundae. "Honestly, I'm more worried about his fast food consumption. A miracle that his body is still in good condition." "In fact, it has its advantages to be a demon. I've stopped counting how many times we put a sword in our guts. Do you have a number?"

Nero really had to think. It was definitely countable. "So once in the strange laboratory of Agnus. The sword was 20-30 cm wide. Was a little fucked by it. Fortunately, the broken Yamato was in the background and I instinctively repaired it and used it to get out of the shit. The other times were already you in our fight on the tree." "So you say you repaired my sword?" "Seems like that." Vergil put his hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. "Then I have to thank you. Thanks ..." He quickly removed his hand and entered the pub, where they stood for a few seconds. Right at the entrance, the two were looked awry. Immediately Nero drove to the counter and told the innkeeper that they were devil hunters. The innkeeper gave the guests a hand signal, so they all calmed down. "Apparently you often go with your weapons in such places.", Vergil remarked. "Not really. But as a devil hunter, you'll always look wryly when you run bloodied through the streets ... Two double scotches, please." Nero ordered.

The innkeeper looked closely at Nero. "Boy, sure you're of legal age?" "That's fine. I am his father." The innkeeper said nothing and handed them their order. "Thanks," Nero said to him. "Why?" Vergil asked, startled. "Because you called me your son. I thought I meant nothing to you." "Would we sit here otherwise?" Vergil snapped. "Yes, but I thought that you would just want to get to know me. And I also want to get to know you. So, what are you doing in your spare time? Except arguing with my uncle." "Not much. I am very well read. I enjoy spending my time in libraries and broadening my horizons. Because knowledge is power. And what are you doing, other than Dante's inheritance?" "Not much either. I like to screw and work on my van. But otherwise, I spend my free time with my girlfriend."

"And what are you doing together, except to fuck." Nero could not quite grasp that he called things by their name. He took a long sip of scotch, so his throat burned from the inside. "I ... would you please not use the word fuck when it comes to my girlfriend? She is my sanctuary. I do not want such words to be associated with her." "Okay, I'm revising my testimony. What are you doing besides love?" "No idea. Chilling? I mostly listen to her singing and smile at her. I know that sounds pretty boring." "You do not have to impress me. I can understand, if you slaughtered demons all day long, that you want to be quiet in the evening, then. I am no different. I mean, I really just read books, besides my argument with Dante. So just stay honest."

Somehow he was right. Whether boring or not. That's how he was. And Vergil also seemed to be a boring person privately. Maybe they had similarities, except for the look. Nero looked around the bar and saw some free billiard tables in the corner. "Hey, have you ever played pool billiards?" "In the youth, it's one or two times. Want to challenge me? Are you aware of the rules?" "Pff. I've done Dante several times already. Let's get the place mixed up." Nero drank the rest of his drink and put money on the counter so it was enough for him and his dad. Together with Vergil he went to one of the tables and exchanged his sword for a billiard Cue stick. "Who's supposed to kick off?" Vergil asked. "Age before beauty." Nero joked. His father did not let him say that a second time and started for the first shot. With a certain elegance and a degree of finesse, he pushed a whole bullet into the hole, leaving half for Nero. "Tch. Beginner luck," he mocked. "Oh really? And then what about this." Vergil started again to play the brown ball over the gang. As if that were planned, the ball landed again in the hole. "Played because of times in the youth. You're doing it professionally." Nero felt like Vergil wanted to bamboozle him.

He could not poke the next shot. The balls were so unfavorable that the master Vergil could do nothing more. "Now show what you have on it." For Nero, it was not a big challenge when the white ball with half and the hole formed a straight line. He punched in with ease. Then he tried with a push both the pink and the green ball. With luck and a bit of skill, he succeeded. "Wow. It really was not from bad parents." "Funny how you praise me and make yourself a compliment at the same time." Both grinned for a brief moment and then played on. The duel was consistently very close. They played 2 rounds, in each of which one could take the victory. As you know, in this family they always stopped as soon as they drew. "Those were good games. Should we repeat that." Nero could not believe what was just coming out of Vergil's mouth. He really wanted to meet with him again? Not a bad idea in itself, just what were they now. Buddies or father and son. Somehow, Nero wanted both. "Yes, sure. You know where to find me. What are you going to do now?" "I do not know. Make me smarter, so I find new ways to go to my brother's bag. That's the way things are. Exercising will also be an option. In a week I meet again with Dante on a fight. We will probably do that more often. If you feel like it, we can fight again. It's really fun." "Thank you for including me in family traditions." "Of course. After all, you belong to the family as well," Vergil said, putting an arm around Nero's shoulder and pulling him closer.

He would never have thought it possible to experience such a father-son moment. Even if it was an invitation to a bloody battle. But that was the way his family was now. Devils under themselves. "Alright. I'll come next week, too. But I do not need any preparation." "If you think so ..." Vergil broke the half-hug and fastened Yamato back on his hip. Nero put the Red Queen back on and did not really know what to do. "And what are we going to do now?" "I'll better put you to bed now." "You're 20 years late for that," Nero joked. Together they left the place and sat in the direction before they started to move. Meanwhile, it was already dark and it showed a clear starry sky. Nero just did not know what to say. For one thing, he had now met his father, but somehow not. But maybe that would change in the future.

Just as the silence was almost unbearable, demons appeared out of nowhere. "Luckily, and I thought the city was really so boring," Vergil commented. "Fortuna? You should have been here two years ago. There was an overload of demons. I had to work overtime to get the city halfway clean." "Too bad I missed the fun." Both drew their swords and plunged into action. Nero felt a lot of pleasure in sharing his passion with his father. Vergil was really extremely strong. Nero did not manage the Yamato as he did. He could theoretically still learn a lot from him. However, he still wanted to go his own way and develop independently. After wiping out all the demons, Vergil had to smile. It was hard to judge the smile, but he looked proud. But why? Not on Nero, is it?

They continued on their way until they stopped at Nero's house. That was probably the unpleasant part of every date. Only that it was not a date, but introductory drinking. Nero did not open the door directly but hesitated a bit. He was torn what he should do now. The situation was shitty, but he decided to follow his heart. He took all his courage and just hugged Vergil out of nothing. "Thank you, Father." It felt strange. It was also embarrassing. He just hoped for a reply so it would not be so embarrassing. After a brief sigh, Vergil answered, "No. I should thank you for being such a good son. I'm sorry that I was not there for you. You deserve a better life, but you can not choose it. And ... I think I could not have done better. You have become a great man. I am proud of you my son." As he spoke these words, Vergil returned his hug. They enjoyed the closeness for another 5 seconds before they dissolved the hug. After that Nero got the keys. "Oh yeah, should you tell somebody about here, you know what I'm supposed to do." Vergil threatened. "I would like to keep the last part to myself, father. So I'll say goodbye now. Kyrie could now take some attention from me. Ah yes, do you want your book back?" "No, keep it. You do not have anything else from me. See you next week at Devil May Cry, son." They smiled briefly again until they turned and started walking again.

[sleepylop]

One Night on Floor Seven: A Hallway Opera

Well, well… welcome to the hallway carpet! Hope you can learn to put up with the smell of curdled soymilk and sour-fragranced aerosol. Personally, I’d like to believe that unrelenting decay is what gives floor seven its character. A delightfully all-consuming “decay,” which extends past just mold caked with chemical lavender. Here, you’ll find five residual units, installed as an afterthought for the sake of filling out surplus space. (A cluster of tumorous apartments, if you will.) That being said, I’d like to introduce our cast—or, better yet, I’ll open the stage and allow them to introduce themselves.

Enjoy the show!

1. Friday, April 19th, 9:42 PM:

Tonight, he’s sat near the top of the stairwell, broadcasting his thoughts on the status of neo-Pagan reptilians and their rapid encroachment on social values:

“I am warning you all so early on, with what we all know is coming, but are too chemically possessed to acknowledge! Our creator died long ago, but a God greater than him has stepped up to rule us; and, he is testing our integrity each and every day! Still, we’re—” He lets out a feral, yet impassioned belch, before continuing, “—we… we’re failing! We’re failing his tests, and we are willingly submitting to witchcraft, and the demonic reptiles who wield it against us! We must come together through a shared blood offering, and repent for our stupidity! Blood! We must give him our blood! Evil will drown in our blood!”

He’s preaching to what seems to be an empty hallway, relying only on the possibility that his voice will slip its way into the surrounding units. For him, walls with the thickness of battered cardboard are a fantastic asset for his ministry.

Each slurred syllable is coated with a residue of cheap cider, as is the inner thighs of his sweatpants. “His” legal name is unknown. His apartment door sits just three feet to his left, and the dilapidated “worship space” he now rents out can be found just two blocks up the street.

He’s also been asked, on a series of occasions, for clarification on exactly what higher power he’s touting as humankind’s omnipresent foster parent. He has yet to give an explanation more concise than simply, “Well, I invite you to join me, for this week’s Sunday evening worship! Together, one day, we will have the honour to bleed for our beautiful, beautiful king. Join us in the only true path to holy redemption! You will soon understand all, I promise you that.”

It’s been just short of two months, and the residents of floor seven have come to a silent consensus: Do not engage with the righteous-ass preacher in room 703, lest you be roped into joining his non-denominational suicide cult. Do not speak or further enable him. Just walk past, again and again. And, most importantly, keep an eye out for any bold-faced, blood-centric news headlines.

Surely enough, morbid curiosity has become the collective vice of floor seven.

2. Friday, April 19th, 11:08 PM:

At the edge of the staircase, right where the carpet is beginning to peel away from water-corroded wood, the preacher has fallen asleep. Oh shit, his snores sound fucked. Possibly, maybe, suggestive of sleep apnea… maybe?

At least, this assessment of symptoms is what twists its way into Evie’s thoughts, via what is beginning to feel like a paranoid reflex. Having just reached the peak of the seven-flight climb, especially, her attention is already shrouded by fog and gorging itself on any thought that’s not this is where I tumble to my death, I’ve lost all feeling in my calves and I’m forgetting how to climb stairs.

The lone elevator is out of service, just as it has been for the past four years or so.

Ahead of Evie, the wallpaper is beginning to distort, her tired eyes directing a show of yellowed roses rearranging and twisting into one-another. Her room, 705, lies directly ahead, the front door bulging in synch with the walls.

It has been a miserable day. Like, an exceptionally shitty day. Far too often, as much as she cares for her own future as a registered nurse, Evie finds herself considering the legitimacy of the suicide cult. Sometimes, school and a lifetime of anxious baggage don’t mesh remarkably well.

Just as she raises her foot to proceed onward toward freedom, Evie feels a cold hand latch onto her ankle. And, before she’s able to come to a conscious halt, she hurdles toward the off-green carpet. Evie’s fall forward is then ceremoniously punctuated by her right knee jabbing into floor, sending a shockwave of pain down her calf. Her backpack presses its weight down onto her, prompting Evie to lose her balance and roll off to the side, twisting her captive ankle in the process. Well, if only I had fallen backwards, to my sudden, wonderful death.

Evie jerks her head around to see, as she had expected, the liquified form of the preacher brandishing her leg, his pale hand squeezing at her ankle. Before Evie can determine the most effective explanatives for the situation, the preacher mumbles, “G’evening, miss. I almost didn’t see you passing by. Can I talk to you ‘bout something, while you’re here?”

Evie doesn’t respond. Instead, she yanks her ankle away from the preacher, making a deliberate effort to at least dislocate his wrist in the process. This effort seems to have failed, as while Evie scrambles to her feet, the preacher continues to slur, “I noticed that you’ve been living what looks like, um, a homosexual lifestyle. I’d like to discuss that with you, maybe, just a bit?”

Growing rapidly more jaded toward the absurd universe that is floor seven, Evie keeps her mouth shut—which, is truly a test of will. God fucking damn, is this guy even a real person? Or is this just the start of my inevitable breakdown?

As Evie makes the short dash to her front door, she hears the preacher continue to babble from the floor. “It’s just, I wanted to have a little discussion, y’know? Homosexuality isn’t, uh, innately bad, I guess, but sometimes it is the product of psychic population control, and I just wanted to let you know, so that our New World Order is never able to—”

The sound of Evie’s door creaking on its rusted hinges is directly followed by a thunderous slam. The preacher’s words catch in his throat, seeming to choke him in the process.

No, really, he’s suddenly gagging on air. He’s beginning to go blue in the face.

Neither he nor Evie notice: Her wallet is now buried in the carpet, just a foot from where the preacher’s head hovers barely over the ground.

Left with no opportunities for further harassment, he dozes back to sleep, cuddling his empty bottle of cider into his chest.

3. Saturday, April 20th, 12:31 AM:

A grey-haired man, dressed in loafers and a faded tie-dye shirt, is approaching room 702. He’s certainly not a resident of floor seven, but he has a very important appointment.

He notices the familiar shape of the preacher curled into a tight lump, snores echoing throughout the narrow hallway. Still, the sight is unsettling, even for a frequent visitor. Something about this strange situation will never, ever sit right with him.

In his peripheral vision, as the visitor raps softly onto the door of room 702, he notices a metallic glint, nestling against his foot. Is that… oh, a lost wallet? Jesus, it looks like the kind of wallet a little girl would strap to her matching purse. Do any kids even live on this floor?

Shrugging to himself, the visitor kneels down, scooping up the glitter-dusted wallet. It fits oh-so snuggly into the palm of his hand. Maybe Mistress Delia will know who this little thing belongs to.

After a moment more spent on standby, the door eases open.

Snores continue to cannibalize the airspace.

4. Saturday, April 20th, 2:06 AM:

A lopsided smile softening his face, the visitor steps back into the hallway of floor seven. He shuts the door softly behind himself. A half-formed bruise is visible on the meat of his bicep.

He swivels around on his heels, readjusting to the sound of snoring and the smell of asbestos and rot. And, before he can even will himself to take a step deeper into reality, the visitor is hit with a second resounding noise: A hollow tapping, rising from the nearby stairwell.

Then, within seconds of the visitor’s panicked acknowledgement, a new man reaches the crest of floor seven. A batlike man, dressed in an elaborate mixture of dark, free-flowing fabric and romantic embroidery. His face and hands are deeply wrinkled, and his platform boots only emphasize his height—which, towers well over the visitor. White roots are beginning to tease his otherwise purple-black hair, which has been tied back into a tight ponytail.

With a relaxed smile and a custard voice, he addresses the visitor. “Oh, hey, have I seen you around here before? I feel like I’ve seen you comin’ in and out, before.” He follows this up with a string of deep breaths, still recovering from his upward journey. Clearly, the fabric wings are entirely nonfunctional.

Feeling heat rise to the surface of his face, the visitor shrugs. “Yeah, you may have,” he says, staring over the other man’s shoulder, eyes losing focus. “I’ve been around here a few times, before.”

With a curt nod, the retirement-bound vampire begins to stretch his right arm across his chest, his silver jewelry chiming faintly. “Cool, cool. Anyway, don’t mean to hold you up. I’m Oscar, by the way; feel free to say hi, next time, alright?”

“I… I can remember that, okay,” the visitor replies, his voice barely audible over the violent snoring, which has practically become ambient noise. “Do you live here?” he asks, after a beat of hesitation.

Oscar hums. “Indeed, I do. I was just gettin’ back a bit later than usual. Had an interesting night,” he says, then hums again, softly.

“Where are you coming from?” the visitor asks, before any social phobias can drag him back down to hell. He’s still baking in his own endorphins, as he often is after some therapeutic-grade flogging. Mistress Delia may be a professional domme, but she places spectacular concentration on the emotional relief of her clients.

“Well, since you ask, I just got done with ‘goth night,’” Oscar says, air quotes included, paired with a dramatic eye roll. Which, is made exceptionally dramatic, thanks to his purple lenses. “The last goth club ‘round here closed years back, which continues to suck profound ass, but occasionally I hear about a ‘goth night’ happenin’, usually at some club downtown. This one had been… not brilliant. Mainly just played a grating loop of 2000s industrial. And, major points off for all the Marilyn Manson tracks. Do people still think the dude’s music is ‘goth’? Really?” Oscar yawns, as if the freshly branded memory is enough to further exhaust him.

Still, the visitor responds with a nervous smile. “That’s, um, interesting. I… didn’t know about any of that.” He pauses. Snoring takes over again, for a moment. “Anyway, I should be going, now. It was nice meeting you.”

With that, the visitor makes a beeline for the stairwell. As he weaves around Oscar, the elder goth offers a quick, “Nice meeting you too, man. Hope good ol’ Delia is treatin’ you right.”

And, finally, the visitor is no longer a visitor of floor seven. Or, of anywhere, currently.

Oscar retreats to room 701, boots tapping in rhythm with the preacher’s sour attempts at breathing.

5. Saturday, April 20th, 4:38 AM:

Later that morning, after a violently disoriented and hungover preacher returns to his own apartment, the door to room 704 opens for the first time.

Out comes Sal.

Sal’s a normal guy. He works in accounting. He’s gluten-free and recently took on a side gig in multilevel marketing. He calls his mom every night, just before 8 PM.

Sal just wants to catch the bus.

Sal’s been searching for a new apartment.

Wish Sal luck.