#wonder why nero likes her at all

[duvewing]

in all seriousness i do genuinely think that kyrie has much more potential as a character than just being “the normal one.” like idk idk but with everything she’s gone through it just feels a bit ?? to me for her to be characterized as like...the only normal one, absolutely normal, nothing to see here, with few struggles and is perfectly happy to be the emotional support for everyone else with no issue.

i think she has the potential to be much more interesting and just putting her down as “the normal one” really doesn’t do that potential justice. like personally i think kyrie should be allowed to be scared, angry, weird, exhausted, trying the best she can and having to choose kindness and finding strength in that compassion over and over again not bc i think she deserves to struggle but bc i think she deserves to be like. an actual person

[always-just-red]

hihihi! sylus girlie here. as a college student i often never take breaks whenever im working and often stay up late finishing up assignments. then i stress out but never tell anyone and suffer in silence:’) i was wondering if you could do something similar with sylus x mc where mc often forgets to take breaks at the hunters association and is always the first the volunteer for missions so she could improve.

but then it’s starting to take a toll on her and is so so stressed, but feels bad about venting to someone or saying no to new missions.

maybe one day she’s doing a simple task like cooking herself dinner (or something) but accidentally burns herself and she just ends up breaking down and decides to call sylus and he immediately goes to her. :’)

feel free to decline or change anything! i just like the thought of someone comforting u when ur overworked and stressed bc i wish someone would do that to me lol.

Fast-tracked this one for you, anon! I'm really sorry you're having a tough time right now, and I hope this brings you a bit of comfort- remember, Sylus would want you to take care of yourself! Good luck with all your studies, and feel free to send in another request if ever you need it! 🥰

Technical Difficulties

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: You're not very good at asking for help when you're struggling. Thankfully? You don't always need to.

Genre: fluff + comfort ft. a very domestic Sylus!

Warnings/Additional tags: stressed reader (has a lil bit of a breakdown!), some swearing, uses of 'kitten' and 'sweetie', Sylus is so soft here he should come with a health warning tbh

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

In the event of a wanderer incursion where evacuation of citizens is obstructed or otherwise not viable, association protocol 32.3-A dictates that you should first… That you should first… What?

Your pen is poised above the blank space where your answer should be. 32.3-A is a general procedure: something to do moving people to the nearest shelter. Or, wait— are you supposed to try to contact support, first?

You drop your pen with a huff and flop face-down onto the mock exam. It’s too much. Too much information, too much responsibility. Open textbooks are spread over your desk and around your head like an unholy halo— stacks of them, filled with codes and procedures. They’re supposed to be helpful, but they’re not; they’re drowning you.

Your phone pings and you glance up. Text from Tara:

Hi! Hate to be a bother, but did you finish glancing over that practice question for me? xx

Shit. You’d completely forgotten. You straighten, reaching for your laptop so you can load up your latest emails. You’ve got time to look over it; the exam isn’t for another two days. Breathe, okay? You have time.

Seven unread emails. What? You scan over them frantically. Two from the Captain: accepting additional mission requests you’d applied for. Were those both this week? One from Nero: you hadn’t sent in that finished report. Three from your colleagues, all scrambling for help with the exam. One from Tara:

Thanks for saying you’d look over this for me! You’re the best at this stuff!

Okay, so: Tara’s practice question. Nero’s report. Your own practice questions. Then… dinner? Maybe that should come first. You’d skipped lunch— had one slice of toast for breakfast. But you don’t wanna cook; cooking takes time, and you’ve got none. None.

Your phone is ringing, snapping you back to reality, and you peek over at it. Sylus?

“Hi,” you greet as you put him on speaker. On your laptop, you’re opening up Tara’s attachment.

“Are you free tomorrow?”

Always straight to the point. “Uh… yeah?” you frown as you read through your friend’s work. “Why? What d’you need?”

Sylus sighs through the phone. “That was a test, sweetie. You failed.”

“Yeah, well…” you murmur, highlighting a sentence with your cursor. “Add it to the list.”

The man doesn’t find that funny. The phone is quiet— too quiet. “Are you alright?” he asks, just as your gaze wanders to check if the call has disconnected.

“Mmhmm.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Sylus.”

You stare down at your phone. He’s waiting for more, but you won’t give it to him. You’re one word away from slipping, and you can’t let the dam crumble, especially in front of him. He’s smiling from the phone call background: a photo he insisted would ‘ruin’ his image when you took it last week.  

“I need to go, okay?” Your eyes are shining.

“Okay,” he says softly.

There’s a bleep as the call cuts out, and the photo is gone. Waiting beneath it is another text from Tara, and one from Xavier: Nero told me to txt U bout a report??

You swallow the ache in your throat and slump down on your desk again.

…

You wake up with a start, your head ringing. The tangerine sky outside your window’s turned dark— your laptop, too— and light spills from your desk lamp, yellow on white pages. There’s more, and you turn, tracing it back to where it leaks through the crack of your almost closed bedroom door.

You hadn’t left any lights on in your flat. You hadn’t switched on your lamp, either.

Tiredness is dulling your thoughts and your senses, but you know you feel uneasy. There’s something in the air: smoky, but not unpleasant. You can hear something as well. No— two things. A faint, almost imperceptible hiss, and a more obvious humming.

Hunter instincts kick in. You roll open a drawer of your desk, snatching up one of your standard-issue pistols and removing its safety with a click. You stalk up to the door, your trained footsteps near silent. You take a deep breath, clearing your head. One. Two.

Three! You shoulder the door open, leaping through with your gun trained forwards.

At the other end of your sights, Sylus turns, an eyebrow raised. Your kitchen stove seethes behind him, and he gives you a once over as he sluggishly raises both hands. “You flatter me, kitten,” he smirks in surrender, looking between your weapon and his: a spatula.

You lower your gun, your heart still racing. “I could have killed you, Sylus!”

“That’s the spirit.” His hands drop, too.

“How did you even get in here?”

He’s turned back to the stove, and he’s using the spatula to push something around a frying pan. “Hmm…” he muses, then blink— he’s gone. He’s at your fridge a second later, materialising from thin air. “I wonder,” he finishes as he reaches around for something.

Show off. “You know how I feel about you telepor…” No. “Phas…” No. “Magic…king…?” By now he’s watching you over his shoulder. “You know— that thing you do.” You’re twinkling your fingers. “What do you even call that?”

“Magicking, yeah.”

You huff in response and he laughs, walking back over to where he’s cooking two steaks and preparing a salad. You’re still coming to terms with the fact he’s even here, looking... quite frankly ridiculous, because he’s wearing your apron. It’s too small for him. Baby pink. Frilly, too.

“You know how I feel about you magicking into my home,” you mutter distractedly, because actually? He’s kinda pulling it off. His sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, tight on his arms. “Use the door like a regular person, you psychopath.”  

“Where’s the fun in that?” He sounds smug. Ugh, he must feel your eyes on him; he must know. You think he’s toying with the idea of calling you out, but he doesn’t, and when he does speak, the smugness is gone. “Mephisto saw you were sleeping. I didn’t wish to disturb you. You sounded… tired. On the phone.”

Guilt twinges in your chest as you draw up beside him. “Is that why you’re here? Playing housewife?” You pick at a frill on the apron.

“Poke fun all you want,” he sneers. “This shirt costs more than your entire wardrobe.”

“Snob.”

“Ha.” You have to retract your hand as he threatens it with the spatula. “Watch yourself, sweetie. I’ll remember that the next time you ask to ‘borrow’ my card.”

You laugh gently. Now that’s a threat. You’re about to tell him so when you hear a ping from the other room, and your heart sinks. Just a single sound, and you’re back to where you were an hour ago, at your desk with the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Sylus hums in acknowledgment as you excuse yourself and hurry back to your workspace, snatching up your phone. You missed three calls while you sleeping: all from Xavier. He’s been texting you, too.

Nero’s yelling at me

Wants to talk to U

Can U pick up? Pls?

It’s one report, for gods’ sake. You feel your chest tightening again. You just needed to proofread it, but it’s probably fine, right? You wake your laptop out of standby; you’ll just send it as it is. “I’ll just be a minute, Sy,” you call out. “Need to finish one thing.”

He mumbles something in response, and you imagine it’s for the best you can’t hear it. Your keyboard clacks as you tap out a quick email to Nero, then you surf your files for the report he so desperately wanted. It should be… here. You attach it. Hit send.

Nothing happens.

Huh. You hit send again. Then again— still nothing. You groan, trying to back out of the email. None of your keys are working. Your cursor is stuck. “Oh, come on,” you release on an impatient breath. Switch it off, switch it on again? You hit the off button. The screen goes black.

With a sigh of relief, you wait a moment before switching it on again. The screen stays black.

“No, no, no, no,” you plead quietly, but it doesn’t cooperate. Your phone rings and you snap, hitting more buttons: Answer. Speaker. “What?” you hiss.

“Whoa. Hi…?” Xavier’s voice is cautious. “I don’t know if you saw my texts, but Nero—”

“The report, Xavier! I know! I know!” You try holding down your laptop’s power button. “I’m trying to send it, but my shitty computer won’t—”

“No way!” Tara’s voice comes in on the other line; did they both get the night shift? “Hey you! Did you get a chance to—”

“No, okay?!” you practically cry out. “No! Can you two just back off? Please!”

“Oh, sorry, I…” Tara sounds upset, then distracted. “Wait, Xavier wants to speak to you.”

“Are you okay?” he asks after a second.

Okay? You just want everything to stop. “I’m fine. Shit, tell Tara I’m sorry. I am sorry, Xavier, I just… I just need my laptop to…”

Work. Work! Nothing’s working. Half of your files are on there. How much of it is backed-up? Panic is setting in, gripping your body like ice. Your throat hurts and your mouth is dry, the dam is breaking and you can’t stop it. Tears prick at your eyes as you blink at the blank, hopeless screen. Your reflection stares back at you.

You let out a sob, expelling days of frustration and exhaustion. Everywhere you look there’s something you need to do, something you need to learn, something you need to finish. You can’t. You clasp a hand over your mouth, muffling your own cries.

Xavier is speaking— saying something over the phone— but you can’t hear him.

The light changes, and there’s a figure above you, lifting the phone from the desk. “They’ll call you back,” the shadow says. Sylus.

“Wait, who is this?” Xavier.

“That’s Skye!” Tara.

Your friends’ distant voices cut out as Sylus ends the call. He sets the phone down again, nudging your laptop out of view, then lowers himself until all you can see is him: his red eyes, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “Come on, sweetie,” he coaxes, guiding your hands over his shoulders.

You understand what he’s asking of you. His arms wrap around you and you hold him tighter, letting him lift you out of your chair. He feels warm, his skin ever so slightly flushed from where he’s been standing over the stove, and he pulls your legs around his waist, letting him carry you with ease.

With your face buried in his shoulder, you can’t tell where he’s taking you, and you don’t care. His shirt is going damp against your cheeks. You want to stop crying, but you can’t with the taste of your tears on your lips. You feel weak. You feel pathetic.

Something solid is behind you, and Sylus is setting you slowly down on the kitchen counter. He’s away from you for a moment— moving the frying pan off of the heat and turning a dial on the stove— but then he’s back, standing between your legs, standing close. You’re looking down until his hand is under your chin, lifting it with the delicate touch one employs when inspecting a flower that might break.

He shushes you without a hint of impatience. “Look at me,” he directs quietly, and when you do, he unrolls his shirtsleeves— drawing the cuffs over his hands so he can use them to wipe your eyes. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You do— you tell him everything. The hunter’s exam. The textbooks. The extra patrols you’ve been signing up for. The work you’ve been doing for your friends. The stupid report. The even more stupid computer.

Sylus listens collectedly, nodding his head and issuing the odd hum of understanding. He listens to all of it, and when you’re done, he pushes your hair back from your face with a sympathetic sigh. “Oh, sweetie.” A tendril is tucked behind your ear. “You should have said something.”

“I know.” Your gaze is still shy of his. “But how can I? I need to do this— be this— for everyone.”

His hands are on your cheeks again, drawing back your focus. “You’re just one person,” he says. “You— just you— and that’s all you need to be. You’re stubborn, and strong, but you’re not invincible. Even Linkon’s shiniest hunter is allowed to have limits. Everyone does.”

“Even you?” you snivel, setting him up for a quip.  

Nothing. He smiles. Shrugs. “Even me.”

It’s hard to believe when he’s staring back at you, oh so solid, oh so perfect. Always a picture of strength: of fiery determination or calculated coolness. Everything in extremes; nothing by halves. Except… his hair is slightly dishevelled from where he’s been working away in the heat. There’s a damp patch on his shirt. He’s wearing your pink apron, and there’s mascara on his sleeves.

Then there’s the way he’s looking at you.

It shifts when you finally look back. He drops his hands from your face and pulls back a little. “You do a lot for your friends,” he continues with confidence, but he’s rubbing his neck, “and they care about you. You should afford them the chance to return the favour. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right.”

“…Good.”

Perhaps it’s the fact you’ve vaguely composed yourself— or the way you’re watching him like you’re seeing something new— but he straightens self-consciously, rolling his shirtsleeves back up as his eyes go sharp: assuming their usual severity.

“You’re too soft, kitten,” he scolds, reaching out to tousle your hair until you’re glaring daggers from behind a curtain of it. “How many times do I have to tell you? You put yourself first. Always. No-one else matters.”

There’s quiet for all of a second. He can’t help correcting: “Well, except me, of course.” The apron’s crooked, and he flattens it with a brush of his hands. “Any time spent with me qualifies as self-care. You really should know that by now, sweetie.”

Your mouth curls, but you haven’t quite got it in you to laugh— not yet. Stretching his neck with two sideways tips of his head, Sylus returns to his post at the oven, where the meal he’s cooking has almost certainly gone cold. You watch as the stove flickers back to life. The man is humming again, and though the food might yet be salvaged, whatever melody he’s attempting is long-past recognition, let alone saving.

You chuckle to yourself.

And you can’t see it, but Sylus is smiling, too.

[impyssadobsessions]

Here's a comic depicting a snippet of a story Idea I have. >w<

(Link to Reference Art I made of Danny) Danny comes across Clockwork's lair, see's some visions of a past he wasn't quite sure of whose, before being dropped down a hole where CW cryptically fills him in as to why he had summon him. Thus dropping Danny into this new world with only knowing he has to save a guy name Dante- and defeat Pariah again. He falls through a roof of a thrift store- fights some skeleton demons with the racks after learning something is weird with his powers as he cannot change into phantom and his body feels weird. His clothes get ripped and tatter thus him "borrowing" clothes and walking out to see the extent of what Pariah has already done.

Which causes him to run into a big bull demon and fights him one to one- while learning the new limitations on his powers/how they work in this world. Spoiled below more ideas that are very rough and not set in stone. That I copied and pasted from my word document- which was just hastily written down as to not forget.

Danny is summon for another favor for Clockwork- CW isnt in the tower but screens of timelines are playing around the room. Danny thinks some of them are cool- wondering when and where that is- until he see one of a woman running with a baby in her arms. Cut back to danny who falls through a hole in the ground and winds up falling into a thrift store. His form has changed and his powers don't really work how they were suppose to. Maybe instead following Pariah into the demon world- finding himself in same scenario. Maybe CW gives only cryptic word help dante. But dante supposedly still gone so meets nero instead. Nero over time realizes Danny might not be human- doesn't think ghost- but assume Danny might be Dante's son... for various reasoning. ---Maybe CW is split in two reason Danny was able to live on the other side. (because of legend of Pariah having been banished to in between because he was feared by demons- only for him to take over new world and being sealed there. Chronos was part of the reason he got banished. ) -Pariah Dark being big bad. But once Danny wins title of king the curse tries to bind him. Then Clockwork stabs him to the ground with his staff- essentially winning the title and being sealed away with Pariah. Danny is rescued by Dante, and he uses the staff to slow the closing of the portal. Everyone safe and rescued. Danny stands where the portal was and cries. Overwhelmed by information and also realizing he has no way back home.

--- Also thought of an idea for a sequel idea- where Danny is in a comatose state but it is revealed after a seemingly heartwarming scene of Dante and Danny watching the sunset peacefully as father and son. Then Nero arrives to pick up Danny. Dante reveals that they know where the guy who did this to danny is and how to get Danny back to normal. (Vergil having scouted ahead) Dante leaves to help clear out the problem leaving Nero with literal dead weight as Nero has to take Danny's lifeless body to the lair- Danny slowly regaining some motion as he gets closer to his-self. Nero at first saying Danny owes him big time- but as it goes on Nero like- hey don't pay it back all in one go- I still need at least one favor so I could spend a nice night with kyrie. (Because Danny uses his blood to help Nero fight back the ghosts- and then him phasing them through a collapsed ceiling while still in a coma like state) Very Nero centric taking care of Danny- and whose been taking the most care of Danny. So very much him just talking one sided to Danny but seriously hoping for the best. And to clock the guy who did this. Which my idea that it be actually Dan ;3 who split Danny apart.

[lvmimis]

cw: fluff? reader has described magic.

“It should have been Eva, you know.”

Nero is almost surprised by the sound of your voice, piping up suddenly after nearly a half hour of silence, where you followed him close as he trudged forward despite the fact that you are supposed to lead, as you are the one with the sought after ability.

Now that you’ve made it through the corridors that lead to the underground lab, the two of you have paused, separating even further as you wandered off to peruse the ruins and he found himself unsure of what to do next. Nero had possibly resigned himself not to speak until you did, perhaps still smarted by your irritation with him (only partially fabricated), and found himself perched against a wall, waiting for… he’s not sure what exactly. But right now, he’s not much more than a bodyguard, and you seemed to need a few more moments before deciding how to best approach the task at hand.

So when you spoke suddenly, he found his heart skipping a beat

He didn’t expect you to bring up his grandmother.

Hearing her name, in this new context, is often still so discombobulating to him. When he thinks of family, he thinks of Kyrie, of Credo, of his adoptive parents - lately of Dante.

Yet it’s hard for him to think of Eva in anything more than a somewhat religious feature, and even in that setting, she’s shrouded in mystery. 

But Eva is Dante’s mother, and his grandmother, and Eva’s blood runs through him, with just as much gravity as Sparda does. The bulk of his humanity springs forth first from her.

“What about her?” he asks, gruffly. He pretends no longer to be interested in anything you say, but the truth is, for some odd reason, he’s always liked the sound of your voice. Ever since you first addressed him years ago - there’s something in your eyes and the way your lips move and the way your voice rises and falls and rushes too quickly, sometimes too slow, as if the thoughts in your head and the twists of your tongue are never exactly in sync. He finds himself wondering what you’ll say next, if only it could be kind when it came to him.

When he tosses his head in your direction, you’re not returning his glance at all - rather, your fingers are lightly tracing a dusty textbook. He wouldn’t know it just by looking but you’re looking for a trace of demon or angel influence, the aura of those primordial beings far too powerful to fade or ignore. You’re not as gifted a sensor as your mentor, and will never be, but she’s taught you a few tricks that can help sometimes.

There’s nothing there. You continue to muse.

“We worshipped Sparda like a god, but it should have been Eva. Eva is who reached out her hand first.”

Nero watches you as you smile to yourself, then look around the room. You’ve lost interest in the book, and now are prodding at a few clumps of rubble with the tip of your boot. 

He’s not here to waste time.

Nero pushes off from his leaned position against the wall to stand, but you speak again and unwittingly he stops in his tracks.

“I wonder if when she first met him she was afraid.”

Nero feels like the appropriate thing to do is to roll his eyes and tell you to hurry up, but he’s curious too for a moment. He was raised to hate demons, he feared being found out as anything close to one for so long, but Eva must have immediately sought humanity in Sparda who was nothing but that. A demon.

“It probably doesn’t matter either way,” he points out. You look at him, but instead you’re smiling instead of scowling, a dreamy look in your eye. “It didn’t stop her from…” he pauses. “You know.” He gestures vaguely with a turn of his hand.

You laugh, and he’s actually surprised that you found him funny.

“That’s true. But the reason why I think it should have been her is because her love is what led to the very salvation we prayed for.”

Nero watches you. He’s surprised you can even talk about love fondly.

“Love that humanizes,” you murmur in continuation.

How has he ended up in a room with a woman who hates him, now proselytizing about love?

Nero runs his hand through his snowy hair, visibly frustrated. “Do you want to hurry up and find this portal or…?”

He looks at you and you’ve stopped smiling, a faraway look in your eye.

“I suppose ___ is Dante’s Eva,” you murmur. You’ve started to move, and you’re now looking again, on task.

Nero moves a little closer, deciding somehow if he helps you along, you’ll be able to leave quicker. “I can see that,” he admits. 

“And your Eva would be Kyrie,” you say and he pauses.

That’s not- he wants to say, but he doesn’t really know how to argue for or against. He loves Kyrie. She’s the most important woman in his life, without question. You look at him for a little bit too long, and he can feel an uneasiness in his chest, a pressure building he cannot so easily disperse.

“Maybe,” he decides. Cutting his losses with an unnecessarily uncertain answer.

Admitting that his childhood friend he loves dearly has that sort of immense pull over him feels suddenly uncomfortable to do in your presence. Sparda turned against his own kin for Eva. Nero would do anything for Kyrie, he’s sure of it. But as he looks back at you, he feels as though the confirmation cannot come out of his mouth, not at this very instant. 

You’re looking away from him again, and he hates that.

Why oh why does your lack of attention upset him so?

“I’ve dreamt of having my own Sparda,” you muse. Your hand passes against a sunken bookshelf, then lingers. The portal must be here.

“Does my grandfather have to be involved in your romantic fantasies?” Nero tries desperately to crack a joke, but it falls flat. His ears grow hot as you look at him suddenly, your face blank.

“You’re right, maybe I need a different way to describe it.” You say, simply, even though he expects you to get upset, to retaliate and receives nothing of the sort in return.

If this room suddenly became overrun with demons, Nero could hack and slash his way out easily. But it’s just you, and thus, he has to live with the warm sensation creeping up his neck. 

You sigh. “I’ll shut up.”

“I wasn’t asking you to.” Nero says but he trails off. 

You laugh to yourself. “I’m talking to you like you’re one of my girlfriends. I must be bored.”

You place your hand on the glowing center of the portal you’ve located. Your eyes close, and you feel warmth on the runes tattooed onto your wrists.

“I don’t have to be one of your girlfriends, but I can be a friend.”

Magic glows from your wrist to your palm as you concentrate. Your eyes furrow, squeezed shut tight as you concentrate.

The way you use magic, the way you pour yourself into it, is not unlike Kyrie’s singing, Nero thinks. For a moment, he wonders if you are able to sing, if you’ve ever tried to carry a tune. 

The portal closes, and your eyes shoot open. Nero quickly finds something else to look at.

“I think we’re done,” you murmur. There’s a softness to your lids that suggests fatigue, but you’re still steady on your feet. Slower to move, and Nero wonders how he could offer you a lean on his shoulder. Carrying you would not be hard, but he knows you would object to being so close to him.

You don’t talk anymore. Not about Eva and Sparda, or about Dante and your mentor, or about him or Kyrie, or your version of Sparda that you haven’t met yet -

Someone who you’d be allowed to love so much it would be a sanctifying force.

“Hey.” Nero takes a few quick steps to overtake your fast pace and step a little ahead of you, not unlike earlier.

“Walk slower, okay?” He shakes his head, as if annoyed. “And stay close, there could still be demons prowling.”

You’re too exhausted from using your magic to argue with him.

“Sure.”

He walks slower deliberately but as he anticipated, it doesn’t take long for you to suddenly find yourself lightheaded.

“I… I don’t think I can…” Your head spins. By the time he turns, you’ve already fallen into his arms and he’s just in time, ready to catch you.

—

Your weight is different in his arms than Kyrie’s is, the distribution less familiar. You smell different, like something it feels too sinful of him to parse out and describe, and even the soft way you snore, fast asleep almost instantly, is different. It occurs to Nero that he hasn’t held very many people in his life, not like this.

You’re easy to carry, physical strength aside, and in just moments, he has almost forgotten that he’s holding you when his mind wanders.

How did Sparda know Eva was the one? Had he ever loved anyone else? Had he loved before? 

If only you had spared him all the romance talk, it wouldn’t make this situation so very awkward. Kyrie would kill him if he saw the way he holds you right now, like a princess, carefully, tenderly. Perhaps he could shift you so that you’re no more special than a backpack.

But that feels wrong and untrue.

He doesn’t know when this desire for you to like him came to be, but he can’t shake it. He can’t shake the feeling that there’s something that you aren’t allowing him to know, that you are supposed to mean more to each other than this strained relationship. Otherwise, why do you feel at home cradled in his arms?

Eva probably never saw Sparda as a threat from the very first time she laid eyes on him. She loved him from the start. And Sparda always protected her and the home and the city she loved.

Their love was easy and natural, not a single obstacle in their way. No false starts or missteps or bickering back and forth.

Yet, despite all that, where are either of them now?

Nero doesn’t realize he’s close to the front of the castle until Dante is raising his eyebrow at him.

“So what were you two up to?”

The uptick in his voice is playful and Nero ignores it.

If he’s carried you today, he should remember to carry Kyrie twice as long. Your mentor rushes quickly to check on you, relieved that you’re still bleeding and believing Nero’s account that you’re just fatigued.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” she offers.

Nero shrugs.

“Does this happen often?”

“Not as much as you’d expect.”

—

The car ride back is shorter than Nero wants. You rest your head precariously on Nero’s shoulder, rising only once to look in his eyes without recognition. His heart pounds until you place it again and fall back asleep.

Did Sparda get butterflies?

When you murmur thank you ten minutes later, he is sure he did.

[kujainvidiata]

„Risotto Nero Observes“ - English Translation

(and my long thought session about it)

Thanks to a kind person, I finally have a link to an English Translation of the recently released short novel about Risotto Nero, called „Risotto Nero Observes“, written by Ayato Toya and translated by Hudgyn Sasdarl. It was published in the official JOJO SUMMER Magazine 2025 along with other short novels, also some festuring La Squadra members. But this one here is focusing on Risotto Nero and it is honestly a fantastic read. I would appreciate if you also share it around, so more people learn about more about Risotto Nero, since he is a beloved character of the JJBA fandom.

⚠️TW for: Canon typical violence (also involving children), murder and the whole mafia stuff you should be familiar with.

Below the cut, I will talk about my own thoughts about the short novel of my favorite character in fiction. It is just yapping in the end I needed to write down, but I also tried to analyze some stuff. I am not a native English speaker, so I am sorry for my mistakes in language. I did also not proof read it, so I am sorry for missing words or typos.

I am also adding some art I made of him because why not ✂️

First of all. Hi, my name is Kuja. I am a dedicated Risotto Nero centric artist and also a yumejoshi of him. Maybe you saw my art before if you like this character. If you do, maybe you also know how much this character means to me since he basically changed my life and brought me back into art and is the reason I found a wonderful community. Which is the reason I want to take my time and talk about this novel in my own interpretations and observations.

In short, this novel is exactly what I wanted to read about regarding to Risotto Nero.

It features no romance, introduces all of the members of La Squadra Esecuzioni and their steuggles, new characters and mostly is focusing on Risotto and his thought process, aka. his „observations“ which will be a reoccuring theme in this novel, which makes it a joy to read.

The short novel is timeline wise in the time around Christmas playing shortly after the murder of Gelato and Sorbet, which will also be a central theme.

Chapter 0:

A short scene where we witness Risotto Nero committing another successful assassination. As imagined, he is mostly using the camouflage abilities of Metallica to hunt down his targets. The kind of k1llingd he does keep being brutal and bloody, as we know later on also often to send an example and message from the highest of Passione.

It is interesting how peaceful the scene was written with the festive christmas music in the background which slowly fades into horror as the corpse is getting discovered by the passengers on that festive day.

Highlight of this chapter is for sure the absolutely high contrast of Risotto's deeds. On the one hand taking a life in a cold way, as expected from the leader of a hitman team. On the other we are experiencing a softer side on him, which many fans often speculated about. The target of Risotto's mission was just kicking a young pickpocketing girl away, making her almost fall to the ground and hurting her while Risotto, still invisible, catching her hand. Her only seeing iron powder on her small hands, probably wondering what just happened.

Seriously guys, this scene alone made me as a die hard Risotto Yume tremble in joy since it confirmed a lot of my own interpretations and headcanons about him, like having a soft spot for the younger generation. He did NOT have to help the girl, but he did, without ever getting anything in return since the girl could not even see him.

Risotto then sends a message of the confirmation of the hit to the boss who interestingly immediatly answers. Diavolo, are you camping your phone and computer all day?

Chapter 1:

One of the most interesting chapters for me personally because of the amount we learn about the hitman team again by observing how they interact with each other.

It is early in the morning and the hitman team is interacting not in person, but in a computer group chat, their personalities shining through.

We learn that Risotto Nero is currently residing inside a room which is part of a cheap apartment inside the outskirts of Naples. So is this only a temporary spot? It is written that Risotto brought his computer so it seems like he is only for a brief time living there. Do they have actual homes? Or do the members rather travel between short lived hideout spots from Passione? In the end, it is no luxury how they live. And this story often reminds us about this fact.

The hitman team is discussing about the most recent news recieved from the boss himself, about a new hit of a man called Rossi who plans to flee real soon and that Passione is entering the business of waste disposal. And two of their members should forcefully (a no won’t get accepted) transferred into this new branch: Formaggio and Illuso. Which causes a big uproar in the chat. Not gonna lie, it is very charming how they all are interacting and even throwing jokes in between. You see once again they all seem to have close bonds to each other. The typical duos are interacting, Pesci with his anniki, Illuso and Formaggio and once again Melone and Ghiaccio who really seem to get each other well, how they interact with each other really tells a lot about their dynamic.

Only one is not fully participating and rather „observing“, Risotto Nero, who tries to read in between the messages and how his subordinates are really feeling in this moment.

Also because of the most recent trauma they endured, the brutal loss of Sorbet and Gelato, two members who were tired of being treated like dirt and dismissively by the whole organization. Not respected, awful pay and the high risk of losing their lives on the daily. It is always interesting how sympatheticly La Squadra Esecuzioni is written, sure, they are assassins for the most dangerous Italian mafia but you can still emphazise with them. Many of us probably can relate to these feelings, not being treated and paid properly for the hard work we do and wanting to get their deserved amount. Their coworkers and close friends being sent to another occupation without their consent. Their capabilities not respected. Who wants to be treated like this? Sure, the motives are mostly motivated in an egoistical sense compared to an altruistic like some members of Bruno‘s gang do, which is one of the main differences of these gangs. But this is also why the hitman team feels more close, since they operate and think as a group, they want the best for themselves, the others coming afterwards, contrary to wanting to stop entire branches of their business for a better cause as a whole.

Even the boss is sending them more and more not so subtile threats how they have to submit and be obedient to his will. Like Pesci realizes, the messages are hidden in numbers. „Smorfia napoletana“ as it is called and we learn about which is a very clever stylistic choice of this novel which are basically numbers with meaning. And the boss knows very well what he wants to communicate to his hitman team, that he has the sole power over them.

And then we have Risotto Nero again. Who is, like I mentioned before, rarely participating in the talk and more inside his head and thoughts, trying to form plans, trying to see patterns and things. Now even more than before.

Because he feels guilty. Because he feels responsible for the death of two of his subordinates. He is angry at himself to not catching on clues of their planned rebellion against the organization. For not preventing them. For not hinder their deaths. In the end, he has to grief again. Something Risotto Nero always has trouble to deal and process. Once again there were people close to him taken away from him. By death. Something he now himself is known for. He, as the jet-black executioner of Passione. It is quite ironic.

Risotto really can’t let these thoughts of guilt go, he constantly is tormening himself about his and now decided to be even more keen on his men. To analyze, to think about their next steps, to prevent such a mistake. To observe.

It is not only that Risotto Nero is „surface“ level invested in his men. No, he „couldn't“ lose anyone else. He is responsible, as their leader. But why he can’t lose them?

Is it just because of the team itself? Do endure even more consequences by the boss and being dissolved by being useless? Is it because of the team spirit? Is it because he needs them for being able to work in the first place? Or is it actually because he can’t stomach any more losses? We don’t know anything about the lives of the hitman team outside their job. Do they have friends? Family? Or only each other? It seems they go around quite a lot, and being gangsters is not easy forming honest relationships between them and civilians. And even other teams inside Passione seem to be cautious, even hateful towards them. They don’t seem trustworthy for anyone else outside the team.

Also, this novel also confirms that Risotto truly cares about his subordinates since he is absolutely trying to analyze and insight for their mental states. He knows his team is processing trauma. They are still human. Luckily he knows as well how many of his members can deal with the stress or who of them is capable protecting themselves most efficiently. He thinks a lot, analyzes a lot and tries how to make a change and impact for their benefit and therefore a raise of the group morale. The mention that Risotto is thinking about giving Formaggio missons with a high chance of succeeding, just to improve his mental wellbeing because he alone found the corpse of Gelato…it tells so much about him. Risotto is absolutely observant and does not tolerate his own mistakes and puts on actual effort of being a good leader for his men. He does not want to any bad causality ever happen again between them. And losing them. As their leader, he needs to look out for the hitman team, they only have themselves.

After the team points out how quiet Risotto is the whole time, he tells them to take on this assassination by himself alone. He really is losing himself a lot inside his analytical thoughts.

Chapter 2:

This chapter is more revolving about the setting itself. We get to know the urgent this assassination is, putting pressure onto Risotto who usually keeps a cool head. Risotto will take out this murder of the soon trying to flee Rossi in a very crowded place, directly inside the mansion of this man who is tainted by very crude and unethical businesses himself. To put an example. Don’t mess with Passione. A job suited for Risotto’s brutal Stand capabilities.

The party being thrown in the luxurious mansion was right before Christmas, Rossi is intending to show his new adoptive son, Gennaro, another central character in this story.

This decadent luxury is a nice way to show again the difference of the worlds they live in.

By the way, it is very cute to imagine Risotto Nero inside a proper elegant suit he is wearing for this event. Sorry, needed to let this out.

In the next scene, an elderly couple speaks to Risotto about the over the top interior of the mansion. It made me actually laugh that Risotto was seriously being called „a wallflower“. I seriously can see this, he does not seem like the center of attention of a party. He also doesn't need to, he is supposed to be blending into the scene after all.

Afterwards Rossi appears into the spotlight and talking about the mystery of the „unopenable door“ and also just spewing out some meaningless anecdotes.

Also a rising and uncomfortable heat is described by the pair which is unsually also affecting Risotto Nero himself, which is surprising him. But it the reason is a sense of unease he tries to pinpoint to, until he realizes it is actually Metallica wriggling and moving inside his body and not actual nervousness about the mission itself. They are reaction to something inside this mansion which also is affecting Risotto‘s body. All this while he is planning how to cover the walls in red real soon.

Later on the party, Gennaro, a 14 year old boy is finally introduced to the story and guests, seemingly innocent and youthful, full of enthiusiasm.

Then the party guests were starting a tombola game, an Italian tradition, where we also get to know about the smorfia napoletana again and get introduced to new numbers and their meanings.

While Rossi and Gennaro are playing a farce in front of the crowd, Risotto thinks about the numbers and their meanings, as well as getting further affected by the temperature and discomfort inside his body.

The numbers are really dire and somewhat ironic when we take Risotto‘s backstory into account. 14 and 18, which are ages which his life turned around. 14 meaning „drunk“ and „18“ blood-stained. It is incredibly ironic just how these numbers describe his past, while the 90, before in his apartment room poster, is also appearing on his tombola card as well. His reaction and realizing these numbers was followed by a snort of him.

It really is amazing how much the author of this novel is taking Risotto‘s backstory into account and building onto that or referencing it. He constantly gets reminded of the cruel acts he decided to do many years ago which led him chose a path without any redemption.

Right after this, when the party and speech of Rossi is reaching its climax, Risotto plans to kill him, approaching him to close the Stand distance. It is interesting how he also is pointing on the target. It seems a bit suspicious, but the whole story is constantly describing that the others are not paying any attention towards Risotto Nero anways, he mostly blends in.

Also, Risotto seems to view himself as a „professional“ regarding his job as a hitman, not doing these murders for the fun of it. As long as they are paid and not caused by his own Vendetta. It seems like it is thrilling for him to catch up the ideal chance to carry out the murder for the most dramatic moment for reaching the biggest impact.

But right before Risotto could activate his Stand, the light faded, panic invokes between the guests and he lost track of his target who completely vanished after the lights come back to, the family of Rossi, his wife and Gennaro, worried about his absence and calling the police. But Risotto does not give up yet, further being suspicious of the unopenable door which not even the police who arrived could open.

After many unsuccessful attempts of opening the door and getting a new signal of Rossi outside the mansion, the police leaves again, making the party end.

It is very fascinating to witness Risotto Nero using his brain power to connect the dots and uncovering the secret of this unopenable door, using Metallica again to form objects like forks to the keyhole, which is also fake and therefore detecting a lie of Rossi losing its key. Risotto Nero has such an analytical and smart way to approach matters, trying to stay calm and composed. He knows this mission can't fail, the stakes are high.

Still, he fails to control his feelings once again, as stone faced as he is, a remark even his team mates are using towards him, which is truly sweet in a weird way, how they joke about this with their leader. He got a new message from the boss, who revealed how poorly Illuso and Formaggio will get paid and basically disrespected on the waste disposal branch. Succumbing to his anger, Risotto Nero breaks his phone, not realizing it until he hears the cracking sounds of the broken phone and through his Stand again inside his bloody hand, who seem to express his true thoughts and burning anger, screaming in their usual noises ordinary people can’t hear.

Metallica here in this novel acts very metaphorical as they really seem to be a vessle for his true feelings at times he has trouble expressing at the exterior. Be it the need of a leader of a hitman team, his past trauma or other reasons, but Risotto Nero often seems not in tune about his own feelings until later on. It is heartbreaking in my eyes that the unfair treatment of his men causes such reactions inside him. He does not want such a reality for them, he as a leader can’t allow to fail them again. And he is so sick of getting treated like this by the boss, his resentment growing stronger as well as his own rebellious spirit he tried to bury to protect his team, despite being treated worse every day. It is an endless circle of torment these hitmen need to endure. The boss basically told them to put their lives on the line, it is understable how enraged Risotto gets by that remark.

Risotto‘s appearance also gets briefly mentioned. He seems to have scarred lips, afding to his very rough a gruff apperance. Are these scars because of a neglect of himself of are these results of his past encounters?

But there was an even stronger reason making Metallica roar, the door seems to be connected and controlled with magnetism, also being most likely the reason for his own permanent discomfort on this place, which only faded within the power outage, which he now realized, the dots are connected now inside his head.

Chapter 3

In the end, the police did throw everyone outside before leaving but knowing Risotto and his Stand, He camouflages himself yet again and enters the mansion once more, iron will determonstion to uncover the secret and to carry out his bloody mission.

Inside he not only realizes all the stolen and proudly displayed good from Rossi, but also meets the adoptive son, Gennaro, once again, who detects the presence of Risotto despite not being able to see him. All while Rossi knocks and screams behind the unopenable door.

The mystery as Risotto figured out was an electromagnet inside the door, which is also the cause of his Stand reacting before.

Interestingly this novel confirms another headcanon I had about Risotto since a long time, as he tells Gennaro about the mechanism of the electomagnet which he read inside a book about waste disposal. He really seems like an intellectual and sophisticated person, reason he seems to be naturally curious about a lot of the world and its functions around him.

Gennaro lies about his reason being here, but the knife in his hand reveals his true intention, as Risotto observes, seeing the boy as a hindrance and thinking about peacefully assassinating him as well if he keeps being an obstacle of his urgent mission. Seeing that Risotto thinks about this dark act but not carrying out this murder of a young man, shows his hestitation despite him being a ruthless and experienced hitman. But, he is also seemingly intruiged by him, curious about his motives and the plan of the boy and realizing the benefit of unrevealing the crime of the young man. Also we can see that Risotto very well decides how „brutally“ he will take out a murder of a person.

Risotto lays out his own observations and detective work how the disappearance of Rossi was made possible during the power outage, which was caused by the extreme indoor heating and the lights of the christmas tree.

Quite funny how Risotto also uses his Stand powers to make a metal Tombola piece float in the air, it must have confused the boy to no end, not knowing about the supernatural Stands. He reveals another meaning of the numbers, 77, the devil, which was Gennaro‘s own remark against his new father. The man the young boy planned to kill himself, just like Risotto Nero.

Risotto is seemingly impressed how well crafted Gennaro is in planning his own assassination, but even the boy begins to flinch by the ghostly presence of Risotto, being called a grim reaper, which was also always part of his overall design.

He is curious about the motives of the boy, who wants to reveal the secret in front of Rossi himself, so they release him, with ordering the boy to drop the knife.

Rossi, completely out of breath, storms out of the room behind the door, questioning his son about the reasons of his hostile acts.

Then Gennaro revealed it all, how much Rossi has tormented him all these years after making him witness the torturing and murder of his own mother, just to get adopted by him again, probably making him suffer even more behind the disguise of a noble man, a habit of Rossi‘s twisted games. He even underestimated the boy to remember him after all these years, showing his arrogance and belittlement of others. All while the boy suffered in silcence and played an act, until now the time for his own assassination and revenge has come.

A motive and reason we all know defines Risotto all to well, his whole life. We get a glimpse of a backflash inside Risotto‘s head of the funeral of his cousin, many years ago. His mind turning dark just like his clothes. Full of rage and seeking justice of losing someone caused by another person. A person who will soon endure the same cruel fate, to make up for it again. But at what cost?

Risotto sees himself inside the boy. He was in he same situation many years ago, being 14 as well, his mind and spirit not able to process the loss of a family member. But choosing revenge led Risotto to a path of no redemption, a path of endless crime, just to get disrespected at the daily and putting his own life at risk, just to witness his loved ones getting erased from life again, not being able to counter the perpetrator this time and to submit.

No, this is a scenario Risotto experienced himself, he knows what this path will involve. I am very sure Risotto wants another fate for this boy, despite knowing the cathartic feeling of getting the revenge one seeked out for many years. Would Risotto chose this path himself again when he was reliving time? A scenario we will never know an answer of but here we see him protecting the boy for basically ruining his future life, a life without a real future, filled with crime, surrounded by mostly mean spirited people despite the closest ones.

So he tells the boy leave, threathening him to kill him if he refuses. He will carry out the mission, not only for the job, but also to spare the boy a life full of darkness.

But Gennaro does not accept, he suffered way too much from what Rossi has done, sleepless nights, trauma, feeling helpless, he only wants the release of revenge. The boy shows a strong will of resolve. And Risoto can relate so much, he truly understand what the boy is feeling. He knows these moments, this burning hatred and just bringing justice to end this once and for all. This is affecting Risotto even in such a way, that he lets his guard down, revealing his appearance, making the boy gasp in surprise by his dark and ghostly presence.

The moment of tension and two spitits connecting only got suddenly interrupted by the police forces, not hestitating to shoot on Risotto Nero as a quick act to save Rossi. The leader shortly needed a moment to process what just happened but decided to remove enough iron from the bodies of the officers to make them unconscious - a fairly peaceful decision for a hitman. But is it because he does not want to harm people who are not involved in his job or is it rather to spare the uproar of the corpses of police workers? Maybe a mix, still, it shows quite a new light of Risotto, being surrounded by members of his team who do not spare the lives of people close to their target mission. At least sometimes. Even tho, these hitmen seem all to have their own moral codex they act on.

After all, Risotto Nero is still cruel and cold enough to traumatize the people around his targets with his brutal and merciless killings, like he just wanted to do some hours ago with all the guests and family Rossi. I really enjoy how morally grey Risotto is written which really makes him an appealing and interesting character, and I try to say this as unbiased as possible.

While this short moment of being focused on the police, Rossi takes action and stabs Gennaro with his own knife he dropped earlier, directly into the stomach of the young man.

Now it was finally the time Risotto needed to act, bringing a gruesome end and torturing Rossi with nails made from Metallica‘s powers, making him suffer a long time before he finishes finally his assassination.

It is very symbolic that Risotto basically crucifies Rossi with the way he pierced iron nails through hus hands, it is very symbolic for a multitude of reasons and made me think.

If we think about Christian Religion, the punishment of being cruzified was reserved for the sinners. A way to show dominance and control by the upper hand instances, which is Passione.

It was often used for „low-life“ criminals and slaves back then, basically mocking the luxurious life of Rossi.

The dramatic display of the corpse for everyone to see to give off a warning: do not act like this sinner. It is an open display of Rossi‘s long life of wrongdoings and crime and how he now must suffer the consequences, caused by his sins. Since it is also a tool of enforcing and showing social control, it also fits the method of Passione scaring other gangsters and enemies. They are in control and on the top. They are showing psychological warfare and invoking public fear.

But also, does this act also is an act of mercy to bring salvation to Gennaro? Making Rossi die for his cruel sins to release the darkened spirit of the young man? It is quite interesting to think about this potential interpretation.

Risotto then rushed to Gennaro, picking him up, telling him that Rossi will now suffer for his sins. As Gennaro is seemingly dying in Risotto‘s arms, smiling, he found finally peace of his mind. His last act is showing the tombola card with the number 90 again, and we finally get know its meaning.

Fear.

This is what Gennaro wanted to overcome, feared and suffering by his past, not being able to act, not knowing if the feel of being haunted by Rossi will ever fleet away, now that the boy was adopted by him, probably even abused by new methods of Rossi‘s twisted mind.

Fear is what is haunting Risotto Nero and his team since weeks, enforced by the boss, treating them like dogs, making with the hitman team whatever he feels to, not respecting them, humiliating them. No regard for their talents, always reminding Risotto of his failure as a leader he cannot stop feeling guilty for. He needs to act. He can’t let this continue. But it is fear he also feels, not wanting to lose more of his men. But what is the other path? An endless cycle of ridicule? Risotto has enough. In this moment the brave acts of Gennaro must have inspired him to also put a stop onto all this. He can’t let fear to keep controlling him and his men.

And then, while Risotto is scolding Gennaro in an endearing way, talking to him like as if he was scolding one of his subordinates, like a mentor, he transforms the iron tile inside the boys hand and forms a staple.

Chapter 4

A short time skip. The news were talking about the gruesome murder of Rossi by a gangster and how this gangster also tortured a young boy was saved by a „skilled police officer with a stapler“

…a story wirhout any sense. Only Risotto Nero, Gennaro and the reader know the truth about what happened. Risotto did an heroic act, no one will ever know about, probably not even Gennaro himself, since he was barely left conscious when Risotto stapled his wounds with Metallica.

It is unbelievably tragic but also needed, as Risotto Nero has a reputation to hold. On this day, he took a life but he also saved another. And not only in a physical way, Risotto prevented Gennaro, who returned into a orphanage, to chose the same path as him many years ago. He brought salvation to his tormented and young spirit, finally removing his tantalizer from life. The boy has now again a chance of a normal life, a life, Risotto does not have himself.

Once again, Risotto brought success to Passione, without ever getting properly rewarded, payment as low as ever. Nothing changed. Only Risotto‘s resolve has.

He gathered his men again, this time in person, inside their usual hiding spot we know of. Which seems to be a rare occurance as the hitman team remarks, last time being the day they got these dreadful horrible packages of thin pieces of one of their members.

The waste disposal transfer seems to be on hold, Illuso and Formaggio being spared from changing teams this time, and they begin bantering again. Knowing they are essential to the team and valueing being among them.

This scene also confirms the basically fanon of the fandom that Prosciutto is a smoker - he indeed does.

Suddenly Risotto began to talk, he is resolved. The boss won’t continue to play with them like cheap and disposable puppets. The incident with the determined Gennaro and collecting his strength depsite still being scared, made him realize to act as well. Or else he and his men will keep this vicious cycle of being a team of assassins who despite carrying out the missions with success, still are only good enough to get potentially transferred to deal with garbage. It is a clear message, like the boss always does.

It is finally enough, time to free themselves from the chains.

He swears to overthrow the boss and organization. His will and decision strong as iron. Wanting to claim what has been taken from „HIM“.

This remark seems to be a direct hint on his pride, how much he personally has lost in his life and how sick he is of all this, fighting for a better future, for himself. But also for his team. To avenge the deaths of Sorbet and Gelato, to make their loss not being unresolved.

His subordinates being in silence, making Risotto questioning how they will decide, will they stay loyal to the team or to the organization of Passione? By now, they can only hold themselves only the little clues and whereabouts of the boss, events which unfold in the storyline of Vento Aureo.

Until then, Risotto Nero will continue to observe, to catch every clue to fulfill his revenge and bring dark glory and a better future for his team, them alone, against the remaining world. The stakes are high, him being the leader is responsible for the outcome of this resolve. Unfortunately, we know how this decision will turn out in the end. They were so close but it still was all for nothing, the mostly self motivated team of assassins' fate has already decided and it will lose against the altruistic motives of the gang of Bruno Bucciarati.

Okay, this was long. I don’t know how many of you really did read this. If you did,

Thank you.

As a summary, this short novel is a fantasticly written story about Risotto Nero and his team of hitmen, also shining with hints of fanservice, as confirming many ideas the fans had about them, and letting them all stay in character without ever breaking depsite all the bantery conversations, how close these men are. In the end, they are all they have.

This story really did Risotto Nero justice as a character, not once ever conflicting with the hints we knew about his personality but also expanding on them.

He is ruthless, cold and stone-faced, as we witnessed already in the original source material. But what we learned in this novel about him throws a new light on him, showing also his softer side.

He IS concerned about his teammates, he feels guilty about his failures as a leader, he can absolutely not cope with grief and has trouble managing his outbursts of anger - even targeting against himself and hurting himself. He looks after the wellbeing if his men, concerned about their mental health and respecting their trauma, not ever ridiculing them and their feelings. Risotto Nero is absolutely not emotionless, his inner world and thoughts are rich, which he just isn’t able to express for probably a multitude of reasons. He even shows compassion for strangers. There was no reason to save the girl from falling harshly to the ground, there was no reason to spare Gennaro, he even knows Risotto‘s face and could be therefore a danger in the future.

But he did help them. And the most cruel fact about this is, no one of them or the others, probably not even his men, will know about these acts and truths (only if they will maybe figure it out by themselves by the staples).

He is not a person who wants to be a hero, he knows he isn’t and he will never be, too many lives did he take by now. But, these little deeds to mercy and kindness are probably a secret of him, no one ever needs to know about. He has his own reasons to act, his own way. His own moral code and his own way to act.

This all makes Risotto Nero such a very well written character in my eyes, combining some of the worst human sins but also showing signs of compassion and protectiveness, like preventing others from a path full of pain or wanting to fight for his men, to finally get what they deserve.

I thank the author of this story, Ayato Toya, by a lot. This novel was a joy to read, which I already did by a couple of times. Also thanks to Hudgyn for the wonderful translation, which is very well and clearly written.

This novel probably strenghtened my own feelings for this character by a lot. I can’t express how happy I am this was written at all, if now this story gets and animated adaptation, my life will be complete. Come on, who does not want to see Risotto inside a suit?

Thank you for reading.

Oh yeah, here is my artwork of him again I made for this novel, I did imagine how he might look with a suit.

[icycoldninja]

Can you write the DMC boys with a reader that likes to snuggle up to their man boobs and act like a cat abt it

Basically you know how cats rub their heads on your shin to get your attention that starts being cuddly to you…yeah that’s basically how she acts when given the opportunity to snuggle their boobs

They have nothing against it of course, it’s good knowing your boobs are snuggly and comfortable enough for your gf to be pudgy around it and kneed it like how cats start making biscuit

But at the same time, they kind of wondered what it’d be like for them to return the exact same gesture to her. A lot of times when they mess around with each other, they’d slyly suggest to ykyk but she’s like “🤨 I saw what you did there 😏 so no DUH!!”. It kind of disheartened them but they’re respectful of her boundaries so they never push her (For Vergil, he would be too prideful to admit he like being kneaded and wants to return the gesture so it’d take a lot for him to even suggest it or even dropping hints)

One faithful day tho, they went back home all moody and tired so that’s when the reader suggested them to lay on her boobs for therapeutic effect and boy…if they didn’t drift off to heaven because of how comfy it is, their soul would have gone somewhere else instead. Basically it’s just normal stuff like laying and burying their face into her breasts for therapy to kneading it for extra comfort, like a soaked moody kitty kneading biscuits

P/S: You can write it from merely suggestive or it can be smut depending on how you want it

I'll keep it mildly suggestive so it can be fluffy, that ok?

Sparda boys + V x Kneading!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-So, you guys were just cuddling when out of completely nowhere, you decided to snuggle up to him and knead his chest.

-He was a little surprised, yes, but he doesn't stop you or express any discomfort. He just lays there and lets you continue, enjoying every second.

-Why you did this was beyond his understanding, but he knew that you loved doing it, every single night.

-As time passed, he wondered if he could he could return the favor. Being the goofy dork that he is, he tried to get it to escalate to something different, but you refused.

-Dante respects boundaries, so he backed off, still wondering silently what it would be like to knead your boobs the way you kneaded his. He thought he would never get to find the answer to this question until one day you came home, exhausted, and asked him to lie on your chest.

-He loved this, so much! Now he had the chance to return the favor and knead your boobs like soft, pillowy dough. It was a dream come true for him.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil had no idea why you liked to knead his chest so much, but he enjoyed it, so he allowed you to continue.

-Oftentimes, he'll have you lying on his chest while he reads, enjoying the oddly comforting sensation of having his muscles worked like dough.

-He tried to return the favor once, but you thought he was trying to initiate you-know-what and denied him.

-Vergil was way too prideful to tell you the truth and left things at that, not attempting to initiate anything else from that moment on.

-When you came home one day, absolutely drained, asking for him to lie on top of you, Vergil seized the moment and began to fulfill one of his life's ambitions.

-He's never regretted it, not once.

□ Nero □

-Nero didn't really know what to do when you randomly climbed on top of him one day and started toying with his moobs.

-He could push you off and complain, but he was kinda liking this, so he let you continue.

-After a week or so of this treatment, Nero decided he was going to return the favor, but you took it the wrong way (assuming he wanted a little something) and rejected him.

-He was prepared to resign himself to a life of one-sided chest massages, when one day you came home, feeling rather moody, and asked if he would lie down with you.

-Naturally, he agreed, and naturally, he took advantage of this situation to rub his face between your breasts and squeeze them, moving them around and massaging them like you did to him.

-You enjoyed the special treatment and he enjoyed getting to do the thing he'd wanted to do for so long.

● V ●

-V didn't understand what you were doing or why you were aggressively kneading his chest.

-Keep in mind, V's pecs aren't as defined as the other boys', so there was certainly less stuff to mush around than usual, though you didn't mind.

-V ended up enjoying what you did to him, but he didn't feel like it was fair for him to recieve this treatment alone.

-Unfortunately, you just seemed to not want that, rejecting his advances. Not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, V relented and allowed this one-sided attention to continue.

-Then you returned home, grumpy and upset after a long day of work, and decided to have V lie upon your breasts to comfort you. V would never turn down something like this, so off you went.

-This was his chance; he got to turn your boobs into bread while you relaxed, his ambition now achieved.

[sylusbelovedart]

Yes, Kitten ? (Sylus x MC)

Disclaimer : MC has a cat girl. I tried to picture Sylus as best as I could, sorry if it's a bit OOC.

↑ Those are the insipiration btw. I just wanted to write a soft drabble about Sylus being loved by a kitten (knowing how much cats love to hate him). I imagine Sylus would be really happy to be loved by a kitten that keeps seeking him out and being clingy towards him, though he might be a bit shocked at first. And the fact that that cat is yours just makes it better. He just wished you would act the same towards him.

TW : there is none, it's just fluff.

You've never thought of getting a cat for yourself, really. Considering your job and the amount of time it took from you, you always thought having a cat would be irresponsable.

You took a breather after fighting wanderers all day. As you laid down to rest, you heard a rustle being the bushes. On alert and pissed that another wanderer may have found you, you pointed your gun towards it, unmoving. You tried to steady your breath and focused on reacting at the right time. As it was moving closer and closer to you, you tightened the grip around your gun. You nearly pressed on the trigger but stopped right before shooting.

It wasn't a wanderer.

But a frightened kitten, meowling loudly as it made its way to you. It scratched your leg, pleading.

And for some reason, your heart ached for this sweet furrball.

You promised yourself that you won't keep it, you just wanted to help it. You took it to the vet the next morning. After a health checkup, the vet informed you that the stray kitten was in fact a girl and that she was doing well. "You just need to carefully feed her with some nutritive food and give her the antibiotics needed to reduce the infection in her wounds". And you promised yourself that no matter how much that cute kitten was clinging to you, you would bring her to a shelter where she would be taken care off. But no matter how much you tried, she kept screaming and crying, begging you to keep her. So you gave in. You grew found of her and loved her, trying to make as much time for her as possible. You couldn’t help but spoil her rotten.

And as cute and lovely she was to you, you knew her to not be very kind to strangers. She easily gets scared, and won't hesitate to hiss and scratch. None of your friends or coworkers managed to get close to her, aside from Tara who managed to pat her for a bit but your kitten never willingly let herself be carried. And they would all joke about how much she ressembles you. You often pretended to be offended and point out how nice and helpful you were to everyone. But your friends brushed it all off, "like owner, like pet" they would say.

As your kitten was nestled in your arms in front of them, Nero kept staring at her, sadness plastered on his face, sighing loudly.

"Well, be grateful to at least be around her. She doesn't like people" you said pointing your finger at him, as if to make your point across "she is picky with who she lets close".

"That's exactly what I mean" he responded deadpan and then he looked back at your kitten with grief, his shoulders slumped "but she is so cute, do you think she will come to love me one day ?" he asked pouting, thrusting out is lower lip so much it made you laugh a little.

"I do wonder which one of you she will come to love first." You asked yourself patting your kitten’s head.

---

That's why the first time you let Sylus into your appartment, you were slightly anxious. It’s not the first time Sylus came by, but it wasn't just your home now. You hoped your kitten won't be too scared of him considering his intimidating aura or pissed by his arrogance. You knew Sylus was an absolute sweetheart to animals, but you were still scared of what your kitten’s first impression of him will be. You didn't mind her not liking people in general but you still wished she would accept Sylus, or least tolerate him.

And because people kept pointing out how much you're both alike, your first encounter with Sylus kept replaying in you mind and you winced at the thought. Yeah, we might have to work on it a little.

Arriving at your front door, you explained once again to Sylus how to act in front of your kitten. "She is scared of everyone, really. Please don't take it to heart, just give her some time."

"As if I have never dealt with another fierce kitten before" he teased, his head on your shoulder "And a stubborn one at that" he continued kissing your cheek.

You huffed and tapped his shoulder lightly "you're silly" you rolled your eyes "but I'm being serious now".

Sylus looked at you, smiling "your worry too much, it can't be that bad. Should I use my own methods on her ? Would gifts help sooth her ? Or is she as merciless as her master is ?" he nudges his nose against your cheek, teasing. That man, really.

"As long as you don't scare her" you said back, whispering at his lips "I don't mind your methods" you kissed him and unlocked your door. He raised a brow at your, a challenging look on his face.

Your could hear your kitten already meowling on the other side of the door. As soon as you opened it, she rubbed herself against your leg, happy to see you back home. You immediatly crouched down to pat her and take her in you arms, entering the appartment to let Sylus come in behind you.

"I guess it’s time for some presentation" you turned to face Sylus "Sylus, this is my sweet angel" you said kissing her lightly "and sweet angel, this is my boyfriend Sylus".

Sylus stared at your cat at first, as if trying to understand its way of thinking. He then tried to approach her but she hissed back at him and growled. Unbothered by her reaction towards him and seemingly used to this kind of treatment, Sylus just huffed and crossed his arms "You spoil her too much. She has your bad attitude"

You mouth fell open, shocked "No she doesn’t. She is the sweetest. She is just picky."

"And in my book" Sylus took a higher pitch "it’s called ‘like owner, like pet’".

You blinked, your mouth agape. Did he just mock you ?

You narrowed your eyes at him "Your horse has terrible temper. My kitten is just picky. She's being careful, that’s not the same" you pointed your finger menacingly at him "beware or I am making her chase you out of my appartment"

"I am soo scared." He said slowly approaching you, a mischevious look on his eyes.

Not wanting to give in to his antics. You turn your back at him and put down your kitten on the couch. You take off your coat gesturing Sylus to do the same. As you passed by him, you approached him and yank him down to meet your eyes "don't forget you're in my territory now. And contrary to last time, I have backup."

"Your territory ? I thought we already settled that last time" you couldn't help but blush, remembering the make-out session you both had on your kitchen counter 'last time'.

"You've been warned" you tried to glare at him but you knew Sylus wouldn't be frightened by it. You pushed him back, wanting to get away from him before giving in. That man might be the death of you someday.

Trying to ignore the flush of your face and your agitated state, you went to the sink to wash your hands. After gaining some sense of composure, you tried to change the subject "Is there anything you want to eat in particular tonight ?" you asked him.

"What are you proposing ?" from the corner of your eyes you saw Sylus leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, staring at you.

"Let me take a look" you opened the frigde, trying to act as normal and calm as possible and ignoring your loud heartbeats. His teasing always got you but seeing him so confortable in your own appartment did things to you.

"I can make some salad, if you want" you craved for something light and fresh "but not sure I have something for dessert though" you said a little bit embarrassed "I ate everything yesterday".

"I don’t mind. I’m sure we could settle for something sweet for the dessert."

You gulped dryly, almost chocking on your own spit. Yup, definitily the death of you.

As you took out the ingredients from the fridge, Sylus came next to you to wash his hand. He signed you to let him help you wash the vegetables. As you were patiently waiting for him, you heard your cat meowling loudly. Pretty scared that something might have happened or that she was angry by Sylus apparence in your kitchen, your searched for her worriedly. And as you looked for her, you saw her standing next to Sylus, looking at him with the most pleading eyes you’ve seen her make to someone. 

Sylus first look at her then at you, his eyebrows raised, a playful look on his face. Then she meowled again more loudly, rubbing herself against Sylus' leg. She never did that and certainly not to a stranger. You tried to brush it off.

"She can be quite a lot, sorry."

Sylus shook his head, laughing "it’s fine. I guess I won’t have only one kitten to take care of tonight"

If you could pretend to not be affected by his words earlier, you certainly were know. But you cat's meowls helped you keep you grounded and not embarrass yourself in front of him.

You called her out, distressed by her tantrum, hoping she would get the message. "Be nice" you grumbled softly "he is a guest". As you scolded her, Sylus crounched down to pat her. "Be careful, she could scratch you. Or bite you". For some reason you felt incredibly defensive towards each of them.

Sylus smiled at you, softened by your care for him. He presented once again his fingers to your kitten for her to sniff before she eagirly rubbed herself against his hand, purring loudly. He patted her a bit before she tried to jump into his arms, a paw against his tight and another on his torso. He quickly lifted her up as she nestled against him. You looked at the both of them dumbfounded and at a loss of words. Everything was working better than you imagined.

He looked at your with raised eyebrows, his eyes wide and surprised, his smile growing bigger. You couldn’t help but stare at him and the way he was so gentle with her. You rarely saw the happy look Sylus' had on his face right now, one of the purest sight you've seen since meeting him. But his expression quickly changed into a cocky one as he looked back at you. "I guess I won't have to work my way through her heart that much. Like owner, like pet, huh ?"

You prayed for God to have mercy on your soul, because this sight nearly made you combust. As surprised as you were, seeing them bounding really stired up something inside of you. Those two might be the death of you tonight.

"I guess she doesn’t hate you" you said lightly, shrugging off your shoulders trying to play it cool and stay focused on the task at hand. As if you weren't scared earlier that your cat might try to make Sylus her next meal.

"I’m pretty sure she adores me at this point" he said almost purring. With Sylus smart mouth and confidence back, you knew you won't hear the end of it. You looked back at both of them and it reminded you of the time you and Sylus went to feed the cats. "Do you want to feed her ?"

Sylus looked at you "whatever the kitten wants" he said as he scratched her chin. You were sure he wasn’t only talking about her. "She does deserve a reward after for being so sweet and polite after all" he walked away and searched for something in his blazer. He took out a can of food, the same brand you told him your kitten loved. "her food is right here" you said pointing at your cat food spot "you can feed her there". You absoluteley didn’t mind your cat eating in the kitchen, but your heart couldn’t stand the both of them right now. You took a good minute to compose yourself before returning to your task.

-----

"Come here, kitten" you suddenly straighten up as Sylus calls out for you, his voice soft and velvety.

You walked towards him nonchalantly, trying to come up with some sly retort. Once you arrived in the livingroom, you stopped completely in your tracks.

Sylus wasn’t actually calling out for you.

He was slouched over your kitten, his hands gently spread towards her. She didn’t even fight against his graps and just let herself be put on his laps. You felt your face turn red from embarrassment.

Sylus just used the same nickname for you to your cat, it's fine, you told yourself. You wanted to make a run from it, to escape the awkwardness that situation might bring if Sylus sees you. But as you turned around, Sylus eyes landed on you. By the look on your face, he frowned and stood up, ready to come and help you.

He nearly asked you what was wrong but Sylus was a clever man. Too clever for your own good in that situation. Seeing with the way you looked at both him and your kitten ? He quickly understood. Damn him.

"So you can come to me if I actually call out for you, kitten ?" He tapped a finger against his temple, his smirk too wide for your liking "that’s tremendous information. I'm keeping that in mind for next time."

You bite the inside of your cheek trying to hold yourself back and not embarrass yourself further. But you knew you failed miserably as your entire face was flushed red. You didn't dare to look at Sylus and just turned around.

"The intel I have on you would make rampage in the dark web. Don’t act so smooth as if you don’t have anything to hide. I pretty sure your soft spot for straight kittens would please your ennemies. Besides, I just wanted to make sure you both were good since I didn't hear from you for some time"

"Wouldn't that be a good sign ?"

"I don't know. Maybe she would have biten off that smug tongue of yours."

Sylus didn't say anything back but you knew he was ecstatic. "Well, I'm going back to the kitchen. Tell me if you need anything."

----

You felt Sylus arms wrap around you, his lips kissing the back of your head.

"You will always be my favorite kitten." he whispered into your ear.

"How come ? you know other kitten ? How many ?" you tried to sound mad but a smile spread accross your face when you felt Sylus pressing himself further against you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

"Not much really. One's a cute furball" your kitten meowled loudly as if she knew you two were talking about her "But... the other, this one I can't seem to get away from… and she is the one I adore" he said sweetly, turning you around to kiss you, blocking you against the kitchen counter.

"And-" you said trying to part your lips from him "you think that will-" Sylus put his hand on your cheek and tilted your head back to deepen the kiss "make me-" he slipped his tongue between your lips.

After a moment he finally parted slightly from you "forgive you ?"

Sylus kisses always felt good. Gosh his lips of his were blessed and crafted by God himself but cursed and polished by some sort of demon. Something about his kisses were soft and sweet but also deeply passionate and dizzying, always making you breathless.

"How should I earn your forgiveness then, my lady ?" he asked teasingly, brushing your nose with his.

"I don't know" you bite your lips looking up at him, you wanted him to work for it "should i even consider forgiving you ?"

Sylus slightly frowned. You smiled, hugging his waist "what do you have in mind ?"

"Anything you want" he whispered against your lips.

"Shouldn't you be careful before making this kind of proposal ?"

Sylus tucked your hair behind your ear, a beautiful smile drawing on his features. "Do you plan on finally being greedy with me ? I wouldn't ask for much."

You pretended to think for a little. "And if I say I just wanted to cuddle and watch films ? Would you mind ?"

"Sounds amazing to me, sweetheart." he said kissing you once again.

Sylus never mind going by your every whims and demands. He actually loved it. As much as you loved spoiling your cat, Sylus loved spoiling his own kitten rotten. Having you asking him for things, spending time with him, leaning on him, clinging to him was more than he could ever ask for. And God knew he didn't ask for much. So he didn't mind you making a fuss or acting mad or being greedy, because nothing made him happier than seeing you finally claiming him as your own.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hey I have a request can I please have the part 7 characters with a partner who is like risotto Nero from part 5(Jonny gyro Diego if you want valentine )

She can be part of the mafia why not I love strong women that cares for her squad🖤.

imagine they are losing a fight and out of nowhere the enemy is throwing up razors and their partner finally reveal her stand that it can manipulate iron how would they react.

Her becoming invisible for the first time or healing herself with her stand I forgot how amazing that stand was and it's so adorable smol .

(whoud it affect gyro his steel balls if so he must be happy she is on his team )

hi, thank you for requesting and i hope you enjoy <333

Johnny Joestar 

You’ve always been quiet and composed. Calm in the middle of chaos. Johnny thought he was the one protecting you during the race.

He notices the way you never panic, even when bullets are flying, but he chalks it up to nerves of steel. He doesn’t realize it’s because you’re used to this- you’ve been in the mafia for years.

Then one day, he’s cornered by an enemy Stand user. He’s losing. Bleeding. They’re closing in on him- and you haven’t moved.

“(Y/N)!!” he calls out, trying to warn you- 

And the enemy starts choking.

Metal glints in their mouth. Blood spurts. Razor blades.

Johnny stares in stunned silence as the enemy collapses, their organs practically shredding themselves from the inside out. 

You’re still standing there, as calm and silent as ever, watching like it’s just another Tuesday.

“...Was that your Stand?” he breathes.

You give a small nod, stepping over the body to kneel beside him.

He’s speechless. “You... You’re terrifying. And beautiful. And- oh my god- thank god you’re on my side.”

Gyro Zeppeli 

You were always the one quietly rolling your eyes at his jokes, keeping him from doing something dumb. But Gyro never imagined you had that in you.

He’s fighting a tough enemy Stand user, and it's not going well. One of his steel balls is knocked away, and he’s open- 

Until the enemy suddenly drops to their knees, blood streaming from their nose and eyes. They scream- and start vomiting nails.

Gyro looks over and sees you, face unreadable, eyes focused like a sniper’s.

He blinks. “Was that... you?”

“Yes,” you say simply. “Don’t move. You’re bleeding.”

You hold out your hand and manipulate the iron in his bloodstream to clot his wound, all while staying half-transparent. Like you’re blending into the air. Invisible. Controlled. Precise.

His mouth hangs open. “...Wait. You’re magnetic?! Does that affect my steel balls?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Only if I want it to.”

He gives you the biggest grin- equal parts turned on and thrilled. “Holy shit, I’m dating a goddamn assassin! No wonder you’re always so calm. You don’t even flinch ‘cause you know you could make someone explode from the inside out!”

“Basically.”

“I LOVE YOU. You’re coming with me to every fight. You’re my lucky charm. My sharp, invisible, iron-controlling angel of death.”

Diego Brando 

Diego’s sharp. He knew you were dangerous- he could tell from the way you moved, how you watched people like prey.

But he underestimated you.

Until one day, you're caught in the crossfire. He’s too far to help. The enemy’s aiming at you now, and his stomach drops- he might actually lose you.

Then the enemy gasps. Their stomach bulges. Their throat stretches unnaturally. Blood pours from their mouth as razor blades force themselves out.

Diego watches, horrified and amazed, as the enemy screams and collapses.

“...Was that you?”

“Yes.”

“...I didn’t know you could do that.”

When he finds out you can heal yourself too, pulling iron to seal wounds? It drives him nuts. You take a bullet, barely flinch, then use your Stand to close the wound like it was nothing.

“You’re like a goddamn machine,” he growls. “No one ever suspects the quiet ones.”

And if anyone so much as looks at you wrong? He smirks and says, “Careful. She could turn the iron in your blood into barbed wire.”

Funny Valentine 

You were the perfect ally for him- calm, efficient, brutally smart. He thought you were just a tactician. A planner.

But during a major battle, when D4C is struggling and Valentine is down on one knee, you step forward like a shadow.

The enemy doesn’t even realize what’s happening. Until the scalpels start coming up their throat.

The vomiting starts. Screams echo. Blood fountains from their nose as their body rebels against itself- courtesy of your invisible Stand feeding on the iron in their body.

Valentine watches in awe. “...You’ve been hiding that from me?”

“You never asked,” you say softly.

He loves it. Admires it. That kind of silent power, that cold precision- it’s exactly what he needs at his side.

He starts assigning you the most sensitive missions, trusting your abilities more than almost anyone.

You’re more than a lover to him- you’re an asset, a shadow that protects the foundation of the nation.

And if you ever get hurt, you can patch yourself back together before anyone blinks- something that secretly relieves him more than he’ll admit.

[felassan]

Super random but by any chance do you know or know of a resource that lists what crow houses control/reside in which antivan city? I realized I had no idea who's supposed to be in "control" of Treviso and managed to just confuse myself more on crow lore....

hello! ◕‿◕ (rest of post under cut due to DA:TV spoilers)

we know that the Crows sometimes have "territory disputes" (quote from Caterina). the disputes part implies that the Crow 'territory map', if you like, isn't static. I also do wonder if some of the larger settlements at least are in practise 'split up', with different portions being controlled by different houses?

World of Thedas has it that House Valisti operates (or operated?) out of Treviso.

in DA:TV, we see that House Dellamorte has the Dellamorte Estates/Villa Dellamorte/Dellamorte Opera House in Treviso, and that once they owned a vineyard that lay south of Treviso; that House Cantori has the Cantori Diamond casino in Treviso; and that the Talons of de Riva, Cantori and Dellamorte are in Treviso. Teia writes to a colleague in Antiva City that Crows from Cantori, Arainai, Balazar, de Riva, Dellamorte, and minor houses like Magneretti and Candide are cooperating in Treviso under the occupation. ofc, someone being somewhere doesn't automatically mean it's their territory that they're in, Crows/Houses could own buildings and property in multiple places, and (re: below) people can own more than one home.

Tevinter Nights mentions that Viago de Riva has a home in Salle:

Teia, to Viago: "Are you going straight home to Salle?"

so perhaps Salle is where House de Riva usually operates out of?

Tevinter Nights mentions that Teia Cantori has a home in Rialto:

Teia had a garden full of the bell-shaped flowers in Rialto.

Teia: "Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto."

so perhaps Rialto is where House Cantori usually operates out of?

given those ideas, and with Villa Dellamorte/Dellamorte Estates (Caterina/Lucanis/Illario's home) being in Treviso (and also the way Lucanis talks about Treviso), maybe Treviso was usually where the Dellamorte operated out of?

Tevinter Nights also might imply that Teia has another home in Antiva City[?], the city where she was a thief on the streets of before she joined the Crows. When Viago replies to the question about Salle, he says no, he's going to Antiva City, and asks her why she's asking. She says "To see if you had a place to stay", in invitation.

This TN passage could imply that House Nero originates somewhere coastal, somewhere along the Rialto Bay:

Bolivar had all the trappings of a Talon, but none of the substance. His family had made their fortune as pearl divers and were once the wealthiest elves in Antiva. House Nero no longer held that title, but Bolivar spent coin as if Rialto Bay had an infinite supply of pearls to support his lavish lifestyle.

(It's also said that pearls are synonymous with House Nero).

Zevran was purchased in Rialto and speaks of Antiva City - maybe House Arainai has/had a presence in that/those place[s]?

🤔

[leggerefiore]

so I have an angst request that I’m wondering if you could do. I love the fankids but I’m wondering if for some reason the fankids end up in another world. Where they don’t exist. Their respective parents exist but due to some nonsense (Cyrus and his refusal to stop, Grimsley cheating, Nanu pushing reader away) their parents never got together and now they are stuck in such an unfamiliar place without the comfort of their parents. They stay with reader and the pokemen realize that in another world they are happy and have a loving family. So lots of angst from all sides until one day the real parents come to rescue their children and take them away. Leaving the people in this weird world confused and in despair. Hope that makes sense! Idk why I am in such a mood lol

cw: angst, some (not) parental arguing in cyrus's part, cheating in grimsley's, fankids amuck

characters: Grimsley, Cyrus, Nanu

i wrote this for no one to read lmao. changed the request a bit sorryyyy

interesting

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ Nero held tightly onto Morrigan as they looked around at their surroundings. It was still Alola, same as ever. A place he originally had been upset about moving to, yet now it was a comfort to see. The Ultra Wormhole had been a surprise, both had not been expected such a thing to just pull them in. Nanu had warned them – Telling them stories of fallers without memories ending up in unknown places. They had not had their memories scrambled, at least. Well, he had not. Morrigan had fallen unconscious. It seemed that it likely had just looped them back around. He bravely supported his twin on his shoulder and headed towards the nearest pokemon centre.

♡ Yet, as he headed to the one near the Tapu Village, he passed a familiar man. A man who was just about to walk past them when he felt his annoyance spike. How could he ignore his son and daughter like that!? It was frustrating enough that his father never seemed to learn from his mistakes. His glare seemed to make the gambler come to a stop. “… May I help you?” he asked, “Are you playing the hero to a helpless damsel with the hopes of winning big in the end?” Nero felt like gagging. That was his sister.

◇ “… You're not funny, dad,” Nero grumbled, “Help me with Morrigan. She's been unconscious for a minute, and I'm seriously worried.” He went to move his sister to the older man, but Grimsley took a step back. Icy blue eyes observed him for too closely before switching to Morrigan. He cocked up a brow and brought a hand to his chin. “… Dad,” Nero urged, “Seriously. Help. This is your daughter. Don't you care about her?” This once more caught the gambler off guard. There was much pondering.

♧ “Can you tell your parent I don't appreciate being informed of such a monumental thing in this way?” was Grimsley's reply, “Do they want child support or something? I'm completely broke these days. They played their hot hand too late.” Nero felt frustrated. Was he mocking them? This truly was not the time. He felt Morrigan begin to stir. Her head lifted as she looked around and grasped her head. Then, her gaze landed on Grimsley.

♤ “Dad!” she smiled and moved to hug the gambler, “Nero and I got pulled into one of the Ultra Wormholes!” Grimsley awkwardly dodged her affection. She tilted her head, unsure if this was her dad messing with her. “… Well, I guess it was mostly my fault,” she admitted, “The thrill of whether we would end up in some strange alien world was too much to resist.” His expression was strange at her words. She shrunk back. He almost looked like he was regarding her as one might an insect.

♡ “… I don't know what lies you have been fed,” he let out a breath, “But, I have little interest in being a dad. I doubt you're my only children out there. Just because I had some on and off again relationship with your parent doesn't mean I'm interested in you.” He shook his head. Morrigan took a step back, confused. It was the first time in her like in which her father had ever spoken so harshly to him. Nero stepped forward and stomped a foot at him, already sick of his shit. Whatever game he was playing at, he was taking too far. Being cruel to Morrigan for seemingly no reason and insulting their other parent was too much. Grimsley actually looked a bit intimidated. “… They should have told you this. I made that clear before we broke up.”

◇ Both stood shocked. Broken… up? Neither could recall their parents being unhappy with another despite the circumstance that had happened to them. In fact, if anything, their other parent had been happy Grimsley had more time to lavish on them. Both looked at one another in horror at the thought. This had to be another world. Or Grimsley was really messing with him, but both could tell his expression was too real. “… What?” he questioned, cooking a brow at the twins, “Did they not tell you? Apparently, when I started dating them, I wasn't supposed to keep sleeping around.” Nero had to be physically held back. Though, it did confirm that this was not their world.

♧ Before the situation could intensify any further, a familiar voice called out their names. Both stood astonished when their father seemingly appeared with you in strange not-quite spacesuits. The other Grimsley took a few steps back when his counterpart removed his helmet. “… Oh, man, you two actually nearly gave me a heart attack,” he seemingly ignored his lookalike to approach the two kids, “You certainly did Nanu. The old man was calling all the shots on your missing investigation. Didn't think he was that attached to you both.” He brought a hand to rest on each of their shoulders. Morrigan soon shoved Nero out of the way to cling to Grimsley. Nero watched as the other one observed how you approached them, too, smiling softly. He should have felt at ease.

♤ “… What a situation,” the other Grimsley remarked, placing a hand on his hip. It was clear that he could comprehend this scene. Yes, he understood Ultra Wormholes thanks to Nanu's badgering about avoiding them, but here stood a testament to something far greater than his understanding. Something inside of him twisted at the sight of the happy family. It was something that he never desire, but he could observe the genuine smile on his counterpart's face. “… Did something happen to your head?” he questioned his alternate self.

♡ That Grimsley managed to escape his daughter's hold. Turning to his counterpart, he tilted his head. “… Nope,” his simple reply was with a shrug, “I fell in love. I simply couldn't resist them, and now I've built myself up something. It's better than any high from a thrill.” He pointed the twins to follow you as he headed away. “When you really want something as yours… It drives you into a special kind of madness.” He bid his counterpart farewell and walked over wrap an arm around his partner's waist.

That Grimsley pondered if he could have ended up like his counterpart.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Cyllene would admit she was perhaps a little too playful. Even if she was a child, there were certain things she knew better than to do yet still did. Engaging with Palkia was chief among them. The legendary had opened a portal, and she, curious crawled in. Which led to her seemingly being atop Mt Coronet. She was lost as to what had happened, but simply assumed that Palkia had created a portal to the top of the mountain. She opted against thinking too much on it, as nothing was immediately odd or uncommon. That was until she found herself riding the train back towards Veilstone. Most people glanced at her strangely. It made her a bit nervous, but she otherwise made her home trip as normal.

☄️ The glances in Veilstone were far more intense as she was spotted by some Galactic grunts. She tilted her head at their reaction. They gazed at her like some unexpected oddity. She ignored them and simply made her way to apartment her family resided in. It was only as she approached the door that she realised she did not have her key. Nervously, she brought her tiny fist to knock against the door. It was quiet for far too long until the speaker beside the door beeped on. “… Are you lost?” It was unmistakably the voice of her father, “There is a police box just a few buildings down. They can help out find your parents.” Cyllene stood stunned. Her eyes went wide, and her heart raced in her chest. Her father was not one for such jokes. Tears burned her eyes.

☄️ “… F-Father…?” her voice was small. The PA system was quiet for but a moment. Then a reply. A simple questioning, “Pardon?” Cyllene moved closer to the speaker, knowing it doubled as a camera. “… Dad…” she begged, “Please…. please don't tease me…” She felt like crying. More silence followed before the door clicked open to reveal the man who was no doubt her father. He was wearing more casual clothing and his hair was unstyled, but it was him. She clung to his legs and felt herself begin to cry. Why was he being mean to her?

☄️ This Cyrus stood stunned, however, at this little girl who stood outside his home. He was no fool. The resemblance was plain as day. This child was a relative of his, if not directly related to him. Some horrible sense of empathy burned in his hardened heart as she wept. Instinct got the better of him as he knelt down and rested a hand on her back. Her reactions… They reminded him of someone. He swallowed. Judging by her age… It was not illogical to assume a possibility that she was… He sighed. “There, there…” his voice was soft, “… Are you claiming that you are my daughter?”

☄️ Cyllene nodded. She could not fathom her own father not recognising her. Had he attempted to mess with the Lake Guardians once again? Her panic led to her gripping his arms tightly. “Father…” she mumbled. His eyes went wide. Another question came from him. A question about her whole parentage. Cyllene blinked at this one. “… My other parent is…” A familiar name left her. Cyrus was frozen by her words. His theory… It was correct. How could this be? The question was about to leave him before he finally motioned her in the apartment.

☄️ Cyllene was further shocked at the state of it. There was no trace of family home she had come to know. Nothing of the small projects she had worked on with her father or the bed for Weavile in the living room. It was dark and seemingly mostly unused. Slowly, it finally set in about what had occurred. She felt sick. All she wanted was her Rotom toy or her bed or for her father to sit her in his lap and explain a star map to her. Instead, she was stuck with an alternate reality version of her father. One who clearly did not recognise her. More tears escaped her eyes. This Cyrus seemed to attempt to comfort her again.

☄️ Forcing down her torment, she was faced with a situation. Yet, before she could be given a chance to explain, her father had out his phone and was making a phone call. His tone was reserved, but Cyllene recognised the voice on the other end of the call. A demand was made for them to meet him at once. Seemingly, they relented after a bit of back and forth. Cyrus informed her she would be back with her other parent soon enough. Yet, they needed to have a chat before he handed her back off. Cyllene felt bewildered. There was no time to object when he grasped her hand tugged her along to a certain building in Veilstone. There stood another, waiting with their arms crossed and clear frustration on their face. Though, this was changed when they saw Cyrus approach with Cyllene.

☄️ “Why did you fail to tell me of our child!?” Cyrus's voice was a rare kind of loud and aggressive. Cyllene was startled away from him due to it. Her other parent stood shocked, too. Their eyes went to Cyllene and back to Cyrus. A simple response of not knowing failed to appease the man. The two soon fell into an argument, making Cyllene curl into herself. Panic burned inside her and made her arms feel numb. All she could do was tap to two stones she found on the ground together. It only seemed to grow worse and worse until finally a voice cut through the fighting.

☄️ “Cyllene.” Her head whipped up as tears fell from her eyes. There, approaching from stairs leading up to the Galactic building was another Cyrus. His gaze was firmly on her. Her legs had never moved so quickly. This version of the Galactic Boss caught her and held her tightly to himself. Another person ran up the stair to them. You. Her eyes burned as you brought a hand gently to comb through her hair. The alternate pair of you both came to an abrupt silence.

☄️ “… What is this?” the Cyrus of this world asked. The Cyrus she knew shook his head. “… Pointless to discuss such things. The idea of parallel worlds existing is something that you are no doubt aware of,” was his reply, “It seems we are two versions of the same person who engaged with different choices. Intriguing.” He clutched Cyllene tighter to himself. The other Cyrus nodded. The other you stood shocked at how close you were to your Cyrus. “… I apologise. We will be correcting this error,” with those words, Cyllene was lifted into the air and carried away by her father to a nearby portal.

Somehow, she felt as if those two had been changed by the experience.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 Ohi'a would admit what he did was dumb. And, without a doubt, would piss off his dad. The geezer probably would be ready to kill him and then himself if he learnt that he got pulled in an Ultra Wormhole. It really had not been his fault. A toddler almost pulled in, and he dumbly rushed over to push them out of the way. He, instead, was sucked in. Yet… Despite all the horror stories of fallers and Miss Anabel's own existence, he did not fell discombobulated nor without his memories. Looking around, in fact, he still just seemed to be in Alola. The same as ever. He shrugged it off and headed back towards the Po Town police station. He needed to discuss whatever happened with his dad even if it was going to be a pain in the ass. He could already feel the hardened glare of the Kahuna piercing his soul.

🌑 He found himself approaching the station, seeing a familiar man and girl outside the door. Both turned to glance at him strangely. Ohi'a cocked up a brow at them. Acerola approached him with a bright smile and asked if he was lost. He was bewildered. Lost? He lived here. His gaze drifted to his dad, who was trying to pretend that he was not there. “… Huh?” he finally spoke, “… It's me. Ohi'a. I live here.” Acerola's head tilted while Nanu's attention finally shifted onto him.

🌑 “… In Alola?” Nanu finally cut in, carefully treading over, “Where, boy? You aren't trying to join Team Skull, are you?” His hands were in his pockets. Those crimson eyes stared into his own matching ones as if attempting to intimidate him. Ohi'a's nose scrunched up. What? He was acting extremely suspicious towards him. Why? Acerola was even treating him like an anomaly, too. It stung more than he would like to admit. Was this some kind of punishment? It was not like his father at all. Nanu could be a bit of a hard ass, but nothing cruel. Something was wrong here.

🌑 “… No. I mean…” Ohi'a trailed off, pondering what to say. The idea of parallel realities was no unknown to him. That one trainer on their island challenge had told him about their travels in the Ultra Wormhole. An alternate reality, far into the future of a destroyed Hau'Oli city. He stiffened up. Bringing his hand to the back of his neck, he sighed. “… Look, I don't think you'll believe me, but I fell through an Ultra Wormhole,” he explained. Nanu tensed up visibly at his words. “Through some struck of luck, I still have my memories,” he met his gaze, “… No idea what's going on in this world, but in mine, you're my old man.”

🌑 Nanu registered his words in an instant. The suspicion towards him somehow seemed to both fall and increase. Shaking his head, a sigh left him. Acerola gasped at Ohi'a's words and looked between Nanu and him. The Kahuna motioned for him to follow him into the police station. He waved Acerola off, too. Both of them sat in the station for a moment in silence. Ohi'a took in that it seemed much more… different from his memories. A single couch for sleeping. Nothing really to survive on. Some take-out and instant ramen about. “… So, can I ask who your other parent is?” he finally broke the silence. Something told Ohi'a that he already had an idea. His reply of a certain name only got a nod. “Figured…” He sighed, “… Am I a happy family man in your world or something?”

🌑 “… Nope,” Ohi'a replied, watching a Meowth approach him and give his hand a sniff. He brought a hand to pet the pokemon. Its soft fur, a familiar comfort. Nanu observed the interaction. “You're exactly the same, but you're married,” he shrugged, “… I guess you get busy with us, though. Tapu Bulu seems quite happy you had a kid.” Nanu scoffed at that. “I need to get back, you know” he continued, “My parents… They'll end up worried. You seem to think I'm more trouble than I'm worth until something happens to me.”

🌑 Nanu glanced at him. “… Are they happy?” he asked seriously. Ohi'a thought on his family for a moment. It was difficult to tell with how tormented Nanu could be, but he knew his father simply enjoyed the peacefulness of being in a loving relationship. You adored Nanu, often being far too affectionate for either of their tastes, but the small smile on his father's lips. You were happy as can be. Despite everything, he felt his family life was healthy. His parents were in a loving relationship, and they both cared for him.

🌑 “… Pretty much,” he nodded, “… What happened here?” He glanced at the alternate version of his father. Nanu shook his head. Ohi'a felt curious. His father always seemed quite attached to his other parent, typically being quite open to whatever they wanted simply to appease them or make them happy. Granted, it was still in his usual lazy fashion, but it was much like a cat putting up with its owner annoying it out of love. “Are you not together?” Another head shake. Ohi'a felt his heart drop. It was already strange enough being in a world where he did not exist, but his parents not being together felt strangely more difficult.

🌑 Before the conversation could grow any deeper, the door to the station opened, revealing three people in strange suits. Ohi'a recognised them as the attire of the Ultra Recon Squad. Stepping in, one removed their helmet to meet the eyes of the other two. Another Nanu. It felt like something out of a bad movie. “… There you are,” he walked to Ohi'a, “… You're more trouble than you're worth, boy.” The boy rolled his eyes in return. The other person revealed themselves to be you as you rushed over to hug him. He groaned at the tightness. The third actually seemed to be one of the Ultra Recon members.

🌑 The other Nanu relaxed as the recon member explained that they had a way to safely return to their original world. Yet, he felt himself staring at the family for far too long. Everything he had rejected because he felt so unworthy stood right in front of him. His counterpart met his eye. “Thanks for watching over him,” he nodded, “I apologise if he caused any problems.” The Kahuna shook his head. As the four departed from the station, he sat alone for a moment in deep thought.

Maybe he should contact them. It probably was not too late.

[hyperfixatedcatlover]

The Little Dancer In The Spider's Web - Prologue

Yandere Phantom Troupe x Ballerina Reader

So, this idea came to me randomly. I was wondering what a nen user with powers like Risotto Nero's stand Metallica would be like and wrote this. um, enjoy.

TW: Death of Sarasa, mentions of Kurta Clan Massacre, mentions of implied non-con (not the troupe members), future yandere behavior, MDNI

I do not condone these behaviors in real life.

I never belonged in that city.

Words you commonly think whenever the news of another massacre/heist done by the Phantom Troupe is reported on the news. The sentence wasn't too hurtful, for you know they were true. Even when you were a little girl in the place few know the existence of, whenever someone said it, you knew the words were true. Even as they defended you. Little you, abandoned with nothing more than a name stitched on a tattered blanket, birthday made to be the day you were found, raised in Meteor City, the city of criminals.

Why did I ever think I did?

When you were young, you met Sheila, a girl just a couple of years older than you, who gladly took you in as a shadow. Following her silently, clinging to her hand our hiding behind her when talking to adults, where ever she went, it wasn't a stretch to assume you weren't far behind. It was her who introduced you to Sarasa, another kind girl who took you in like a kid takes in a puppy, constantly jumping about with excitement. The three of you became like sisters. It was them who found the book on ballet, and it was your sisters who introduced you to him.

Why did he think I belonged with them?

He was thin and pale, but his hair was a rich black. His gray eyes seemed to know everything. By looking at you, it felt like he was watching your every memory and hearing your every thought like a movie. When he wanted to voiceover the VHS tape of The Power Cleaners, your sisters were on board, but not you. No matter what the two did, little you was so shy, a rabbit quivering in the city of wolves. Chrollo noticed your shyness and didn't seem to mind. He soon became another one you clung to. Shadowing him during days you couldn't shadow one of your sisters. He introduced you to them.

Why did they think I belonged with them?

They all knew eachother before, you could tell. One bonus to being so quiet that you're almost unnoticed is that you learn how to observe. Movements, sounds, patterns. Who a person first looks at and how says a lot about the dynamic between them. You met Pakunoda first. She seemed so mature despite being a teen, but that wasn't shocking. You grow up quick in that city, childhood is a mere biological stage in life. She was also close with your sisters, but there was always something that never seemed sisterly about her. Her eyes sharp, sharp enough to pierce through you, especially when you got close to Chrollo, you stopped shadowing him after a few too many glares from her. Then you met Uvogin, Feitan, Phinks, Nobunaga, Shalnark, Franklin, and Machi. They had known each other too, but some were closer than others. Uvogin and Nobunaga seemed to be connected at all times. Uvogin was like a wolf held back by something, and after seeing Nobunaga start a fight over a junk pile, you understood who was holding him back. They often joked about your height, being so small that one would sneak behind you and pick you up. Feitan, Phinks, and Shalnark seemed like a trio of troublemakers. They were, often pranking you and teasing you, something you still don't know if was done with malicious intent. They were good at hiding that from you. Machi seemed to go wherever and find a spot within the group. Her gut telling her where she should go, who she should trust, what she should do. Her instincts were almost always spot on and her cold demeaner somehow seemed less apparent with you. Franklin was always just there too, it felt. A silent protector, his size scaring off unwanted stragglers. He spoke little, but when he did, he was calm.

You weren't loud, speaking was hard, but you could dance.

The ballet book your sisters gave you was something you knew you'd like. You always had a rhythm in your step, you were always flexible, and you were silent. Moving about like a swan would, gracefully, silently, purely. The book had words in another language and you'd beg Chrollo to translate whenever you and your sisters saw him. You didn't like being alone with him, especially with Pakunoda not far behind. The book contained pictures of poses, step-by-step guides on moves, warm-ups, ballets, and everything you soon fell in love with. When you were alone, you'd go through the motions in the book, do the stretches, the moves, and make up your own dances. When people saw you dance, you seemed to hypnotize them, especially them. Uvogin and Nobunaga wouldn't pick you up, Feitan, Phinks, and Shalnark wouldn't tease you, Chrollo, Pakunoda, Machi, and Franklin would silently observe. Your moves were a little clunky, not having the music you needed, but they worked well. You loved to dance, and silently had the dream to become a dancer at the York New City Opera House, the worlds most famous stage, especially for ballerinas. You never told anyone, as you hardly ever spoke, but they could guess you wanted to be something more than a girl who could do a few tricks. Everything felt fine, normal, and happy. Well, as happy as things could feel in Meteor City.

Then the trio became a duo.

When you all split up to look for Sarasa who didn't show up for the recording that day, you went with Sheila. After failing to find her in the junkyard, you all reconvened, where one of the adults was taking the body wearing Sarasa's clothes to wear all the corpses go, a burlap sack held on top of the corpse. But then, you noticed something missing. Many in the group heard your voice for the first time that day when you said in a quiet voice,

"Sheila, where did Sarasa's head go?" Nobody answered. What could anyone say to that? When Chrollo looked at the bloody burlap sack, his reaction said it all. You were the most fragile. The silence broke you, the sight etched into your mind broke you. You fell to your knees, crying and silently screaming. Sheila's near crushing grip on your shoulders came after you fell to your knees like a puppet without a string. She pushed your head into her chest, holding onto you like you'd vanish if she let go. The grip was more for her than for you, you think. What else happened after the discovery is unknown to you. You faintly remember being picked up by someone, carried home, and being tucked into bed.

You were even more silent after that.

Everyone was shaken. Everyone felt a hollowness now that the bright energetic girl was permanently missing from your lives. Chrollo and Uvogin seemed to be the angriest. Uvogin was always quick to punch first and ask questions later, but there was nobody to punch in sight. Chrollo's anger was a quiet, simmering rage. Like a pot about to boil over, but nobody would realize until the burning smell permeated through every possible barrier. Everyone else seemed snippy. You distanced yourself for a while from them. From everyone really.

It took two years to dance again.

Everyone else seemed to recover. A secret strength unlocked in them. A year later, Sheila left to pursue her dream of being a hunter. You couldn't blame her. Everyone grew sick of this place eventually. A few days after Sheila left, Chrollo came by. You were stretching, using a decrepit table to prop your left foot on as you leaned to the side, right arm extended and touching your pointed toe and your side perfectly aligned with your leg. You remember the conversation to this day.

~~~~~~~~~

You paused as you heard a gentle knock and a gently calm voice asking to come in. Of course you let Chrollo in. You found some security with him and the Troupe. They seemed to ease up on teasing and piercing stares after a while. They were distracted by some promise Chrollo made Uvogin. You were going to ask if he needed anything but stopped when he said, "Do you want to join the Phantom Troupe?" You were slightly surprised.

"Is that the new official name for your acting troupe?" You were still quiet, but after Shelia left, you had to speak more.

"We aren’t acting anymore." That should've alarmed you, but everyone changed after the death of a member of the troupe. You just lived in denial. You turn to face him, looking up into his steely grey eyes.

"Then what are you doing?" Creaks in the floors from the other room let you know that the others were in the house listening for your answer. Quiet people always listen.

"Revenge."

"Oh." You knew this. This was something you wanted to avoid thinking about.

"Do you want to join? I know Sarasa was like a sister to you." Your fingers clutched the table behind you.

"No." Chrollo looked surprised for the first time, but only vaguely. His brows slightly raised and his eyes held that look of a predator figuring out the best way to catch his prey.

"No? You refuse to avenge your family?"

"I think we'd become the same monsters that killed her." 'We all know I don't belong in this city. Why are you even bothering with me?'

"People leave their stuff here. They need to learn they can't take it away. We'll be the ones to teach them."

"I refuse." 'I'm a weaking. I'll slow you down, I hate drawing blood. I can't do anything to help you.'

"Fine." Chrollo said curtly. He turned and left the building, the footsteps of the others following.

~~~~~~~~~~~

That was the last time you saw them in person.

Getting used to being alone took a while. People heard your voice more, people mocked you more. You realized how much you were guarded from when you lost the silent protection. But the pastor of the church took pity on you. He trained you in the same power that he taught the others. He told you how they asked him to not teach you as they could protect you, but now that they were gone, he'd teach you Nen. You caught on quick. The training making sense to you as ballet was also about patience. In a few months, you were able to do the water divination. You were a manipulator. After a few more months, you found your Hatsu, iron. Controlling iron came naturally to you. You never realized how deadly this was until a night you were dancing in a clearing, tucked behind several junk piles. You were practicing your pirouettes when a large man tackled you from behind, pinning you down. You knew instantly what he was going to do and your small size didn't help at all. You called your nen to do anything that would get the man to let go of you. When a warm liquid reeking of copper started dripping on your head and back, you realized what happened. You slid from his grip and watched as he coughed up blood and vomited razor blades.

It was that same night you left Meteor City.

 You ran into a well dressed man in your haste to get away from the bloody mess. He stopped you and asked, "Were you the dancer in the clearing?"

You shakily nod your head. Your mind racing. He smiled and said "You have talent. What if I took you from here? Taught you how to be a dancer? I own an opera house, and am famous for the dancers I teach." You believed him. Machi described the feelings her instincts gave her and what was brewing inside you matched.

"Yes."

With a single word, your whole life changed. You wrote a few letters. One for the council, to tell them you were leaving, one for Sheila, and one for the Troupe. The man introduced himself as Peter Ivan, and drove you to an airport where you got on an airship and landed in York New, where drivers picked you up and took the two of you to his penthouse apartment. He had his maid go scrub you down in the tub, gave you a good nutritious meal, and a warm bed. In the morning after breakfast, he led you to the studio in his suite and asked you to show him what you knew, which you did. He watched with an analytical gaze. He saw you had raw talent, your moves were objectively correct but needed more precision in the movements. He needed to break apart everything you knew and teach it to you again, which he did. He taught you everything, and introduced you to his dancers at the York New Opera House as a member of the Corp de ballet. You rose through ranks, eventually becoming a Prima Ballerina. When Peter passed away, lung cancer, he left his properties, assets, and opera house to you. You were now a star, shining under the spotlight.

Then you made a discovery.

Walking up the opera house stairs to rehearsal one morning, you caught sight of a newspaper dropped by a random person before you arrived. In bold lettering, you read:

Kurta Clan Slaughtered, Eyes Missing! Phantom Troupe Activity Suspected!

In shock, you couldn't hold your stomach and vomited everything inside it into a trash can outside the doors. The dancers nearby hurried to you and apparently you looked like you went through the wringer. One drove you to your apartment and helped you inside and set you up with some water and a blanket before leaving to rehearsal again. You were in a daze. 'How is that vengeance? Why did you do this?' You didn't realize that in a couple of years, you'd get the opportunity to ask them.

Little did you know, that in a few years, you'd be a butterfly dancing on a spider's web,

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

How I think Meg would react to the other 11 Olympians:

This was originally on Discord in a convo between Chronic and me :3

Zeus: Would have zero (0) respect for him. I think she would be able to read between the lines and see that Zeus & Apollo have a...complicated relationship, perhaps enough to figure out the parallels between them and her & Nero.

Hera: Honestly I don't really think Meg would be that intimated by her? Maybe put off a little by her cold exterior but if she sees how Apollo acts around her she'd probably just follow his lead and dunk on her with him

Poseidon: ??? Zero clue what would happen here.

Demeter: agree with u Meg would be a little wary of Demeter.

Athena: Perhaps a bit intimated? Athena's a very reserved person who keeps her cards close to her chest, while Meg prefers to get to the point and start stabbing problems away. Athena's whole deal may make Meg wary of her, perhaps even a bit distrustful because of how secretive she is.

Ares: I wonder if she would be equally affected by Ares's whole "fight aura" as Percy is so she may get a little aggressive with him, but Ares would probably find it funny though i would like to direct his attention to the last time a twelve year old got aggressive with him lol

Hephaestus: I think they'd be pretty chill. Probably don't interact much because Hephaestus isn't really a people-person and Meg's kinda reserved too. Maybe they'd bond over some type of machine-plant invention that makes Apollo go oh no

Aphrodite: Hmm...I think she may be slightly disturbed by Aphrodite's whole "I play with your love life because I like you so much!" thing. She'd take one look and go "you fucked up Apollo's life because you like him?????" Meg's blunt personality probably wouldn't mix the best with Aphrodite's guile and subtly.

Hermes: She wouldn't like him lol summons the wall lizard I just don't see Meg really liking Hermes all that much? Though I don't know why? Just the vibe I get from her

Artemis: Mutual inner jealousy beloved haha. I think Meg would be a bit jealous/resentful of Artemis because of how much she takes Apollo for granted. Meanwhile, Artemis is jealous that Apollo "prefers" Meg's and Athena's company over hers even though her company usually involves her badgering him...tragic twins beloved. She's a huntress - she's territorial. When someone encroaches on her territory, she gets growly.

Dionysus: She'd like him lol. As seen in ToN, Dionysus likes messing with Apollo (in a good way) and she likes messing with Apollo (in a good way). They'd get along like a house on fire and Apollo fears this alliance (though is secretly pleased)

[impyssadobsessions]

DP x DMC interaction

haha okay so i have an interaction idea for my dmc and dp crossover with Patty and Danny with how they meet. (probably be only for me but hehe >w<) Danny after being stranded in dmc world, is living with Dante and being a part-time employee. They specify part time since he's still a minor. (just by a year and that's not even fully correct just easier to keep same birthday due to time shenanigans... Danny mostly upset because he was a four months away and now he has to wait eight. Not important just thought it be funny for Danny to fuss over it a little.) Dante is off on another gig not long after Danny starts crashing at his place. Danny had just gotten his citizenship started thanks to Morrison, and now settling in. He's borrowing Dante's clothes and cleaning up the place (since its still a mess from last Dante was there despite Lady n Trish having dropped in while he was stuck in underworld ) Imagine Dante actually giving Danny his better clothes, and they're baggy on Danny. Nero and Nico having promise to drop by at the end of the week, tying off loose ends to take Danny in for a bit.

Anyways. So Danny just finding something to do, since he isn't in a school ( and he doubts he will), and the business is slow, so he cleans the place. He gets it looking really nice and clean. That's when Patty drops in, expecting to go give Dante a piece of her mind for not checking in or answering her calls ( she's just worried about the geezer) then is shocked when she walks into the place and its SPOTLESS. And there in the middle of the office is someone in Dante's clothes but clearly not Dante. Which she exclaims in shock. And Danny, being Danny like.. uhh yeah I know. Need me to take a message? Wondering why a girl closer to his age looking for Dante. Did she have a job for them? Patty just shocked but then bombarding Danny with questions, suspicious of him. Which Danny just holding his hands like AHH chill chill =w=''' Then Danny explains the situation. Patty still suspicious if not a bit jealous or at least upset Dante never told her. Danny explaining how its pretty new. That's when someone else comes in fretting with an actual Job request. Immediately distraught when hearing Dante isn't in. Danny saying he can take the shift if its nearby- but the guy not wanting to hear it. Dismissing Danny before even knowing him, crumbling into the floor wailing. That's when Patty jumps in both curious of Danny's ability, while also not wanting anything to discourage going to Devil May Cry for services (pride in Dante's business). Patty convincing the man in almost scary manipulative way. She also insists on accompanying them. Danny learns more about Patty on their way over, she driving him up to the spot. Patty learning a little bit about Danny too. He goes into the infested manor, only to turn out the guy was the reason it was infested having made a deal only to turn tails... on more than one demon. Danny gets roughed up, still trying to get a hang of his limitations and powers here, but still manages to pull off a cool fight- especially if Patty ends up in direct line of fire. He sends all the demons packing. Leaving the asshole who started this mess, who tried not to pay them. Making a fuss about the destruction of the mansion, and how long it had taken Danny, as well as letting the demons get too close to him. (They never touched him) Patty is the one to give the guy hell, as well as scare him into paying Danny with bonus. Mentioning how upset Dante would be learning that he jibbed his son, and how next time a demon be hunting him down he won't be able to call on DMC for help. Danny's a bit shocked but pleasantly so with how fast the guy changes his tune as Patty offers to drive Danny out to get milkshakes, since they just got paid. "We?" "I did the negotiating, so I'll be taking a cut. Dante won't mind. uwu C'mon, I'm going to show you all the best hang outs around town. You're going to love them." Thus starts Danny and Patty hanging out. >w< Patty tries not to show it, but she was very impressed at how Danny handled things. Yeah he's not as cool as Dante, but he had his own flare. Plus he's closer to her age.

I did a doodle on paper too =w=' I was going to do something epic and cool but uh... nothing came to me

also a repost of this so you can get a better look at their designs.

[wonwhilebeingyoung]

first of all, yes i am aware the netflix dmc show is based on a bootleg/alternate universe and is NOT canon to the gameverse but i noticed that they’re really putting everything in from the material despite it’s timelines and i just wanna say my opinions and concerns that’s all :3

if that show succeeds and has several seasons… i wonder how they’re gonna put arkham (in this show, who burned in the fire), trish, nero and nero’s mom in… and the tony redgrave alias too (or maybe they’re not gonna use that…) along with nell goldstein and her work with ivory and ebony

oh yeah, i forgot that i love the flashbacks where eva was in (she’s so pretty fr) and i love that they shown how eva handled the twins when sparda wasn’t around… i mostly love how cute dante and vergil are as kids i wanna keep them in my pocket and take care of them 🥹 but im kinda bitter why it was only the amulet dante has in remembrance of his mom, but not her pretty picture that he keeps beside his desk :(

so, in this show sparda wasn’t present said by several times by dante and enzo, and eva didn’t tell her sons that their dad is the legendary demon knight oof… so yeah, that’s where all the confused dante identity crisis comes in like episode 4-5. ngl, i literally believed dante was lying about the part he wasn’t a half-demon to protect himself since dante kinda lies a lot to keep things at bay.

in the gameverse sparda was present for a short amount of time so the twins did meet him since in dmc5, dante and vergil was taunting each other in the ending how their relationship with their parents are (dante’s scared of his dad and vergil’s scared of his mom).

[tsarisfanfiction]

What Is Victory, Anyway?

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family, Angst Characters: Kayla, Apollo, Meg, Cabin Seven This isn't Kayla's first aftermath. That doesn't make it any easier. @toapril-official TOApril day 2 - Heavy Are The Resting Laurels. With Laurels, it was only ever going to be a Kayla-centric fic! I've already done a ficlet about her winning the Olympics, though, so I went a little more sideways this time...

Kayla wished she didn’t know what the aftermath of battle was like.  She wished she didn’t know how victory didn’t feel like a victory, when there was still so much to do, so many injured to help and rubble where there hadn’t been rubble before.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t even her first time.  Or her second.

The only thing she could say about this time was at least the battlefield wasn’t their job to clean up, unlike the last time, when Gaia and her army – and the Romans, too, and she didn’t think she’d ever forgive Octavian’s memory for that – had churned up and destroyed the area surrounding camp.  Nero’s Tower could sway and collapse and rot for all she cared.  That wasn’t their responsibility.  It certainly wasn’t Kayla’s.

Chiron had called it a field trip.  She wasn’t sure if she agreed with that.  Admittedly, it was a far better and more controlled introduction to mass conflict than she and Austin had got, two years earlier with the fate of Olympus resting on the result of a siege in Manhattan, but it still wasn’t gentle.  Gracie wasn’t crying now, but her eyes were rimmed with red and her cheeks sparkled with crusted salt.  She’d caught Jerry rubbing at his eyes with his wrist earlier, too.

Whatever it was called – field trip, skirmish, battle, war – it was over, and they were headed back to camp, carrying some of their number on stretchers and packing them in the minivans.

None of her siblings were old enough to drive.  They all piled in with cabin four, Miranda behind the wheel and more young, brand new campers with tear-stained faces huddled as close as they could get to the front and their sisters.

Will and Austin had taken control of their younger siblings, leaving Kayla on guard, because she was better at guarding than healing.  That left Kayla free to observe, to watch the other campers, to see the one child of Demeter not joining the huddle at the front of the vehicle.

Meg was staring straight ahead, sat firmly in the middle of the van as far away as possible from all the windows – inconveniently so, because she was blocking some empty seats and it would be an exercise in futility to move her.  Even Will hadn’t tried.

Maybe on another day, Kayla would have sat next to her, pushed the other girl out of the way to claim a seat in the row.  Not now.  Not after a battle, and the need to stay close to her siblings, even if she was the guard rather than the comforter.  The youngest three had claimed the back seats, and Austin and Will were bracketing them.

Kayla sat the row in front, bow across her lap.  She didn’t have many arrows left, not ones that were still in a condition to fire, rather than ones awaiting repair, but she had enough.

She wondered if Apollo had enough.

Technically, they hadn’t lost anyone.  No-one from camp had died, this time.  If anything, their numbers had grown, with Nero’s demigods not quite prisoners of war, but not quite new campers, either.  Kayla wasn’t entirely sure why Meg wasn’t with them.  She supposed that was probably Chiron’s decision.

But even though the numbers of campers hadn’t lessened, there was still one, heavy hole in their returning numbers.  They didn’t know where Apollo was, where he’d disappeared to when he’d gone down the stairs and not reappeared again.  Chiron hadn’t let them follow, hadn’t let them look.

All they knew was that he had gone to face Python.

And that he wasn’t expecting to come back.

Kayla hoped, hoped, it was Lester he wasn’t expecting to come back, but that Apollo would.  That this would be the end of the mortal punishment and he’d win and regain his godhood, be the golden haired young adult from her dreams rather than the mousy-haired, acne-ridden teenager Will’s age she’d been seeing.

She hated that they didn’t know.  She hated that it wasn’t certain, that he might not come back at all.

And she hated that there was nothing she could do about it.

[toasecretsanta]

For @worlds-oldest-teenager from @nagisachan1, using the prompts “Lester gets kidnapped by Santa Claus as revenge for Artemis always being mistaken for Santa,” and “Something you’ve been really wanting to make but have no excuse to. Blame me!”

This ended up being a bit more loosely inspired by your first prompt than a direct adaptation, but since you had a wild card option, I figured you wouldn’t mind. Fic under the cut!

You Better Watch Out (Santa Claus is Coming)

Creepy Mall Santa

Oh gods, stop shooting at me

Wait a minute, you’re—

My name is Apollo. You might know me as the dashingly handsome god of the sun, god of archery, god of music, god of oracles, god of healing, or as the god of several other domains. What can I say? I’m a deity of many talents.

You might also know me as Lester Papadopoulos — an extremely average-looking seventeen year old with curly brown hair and not a single godly power to his name. My father, Zeus, had decided to punish me by turning me into a mortal teenage boy, subjecting me to the horrors of “acne” and “flab” — frightening stuff. I had to complete some challenging trials (I won’t bore you with the details, but it involved restoring my oracles, defeating three wannabe Roman emperor-gods, and nearly dying far too many times to count), but earlier this year I was finally restored to my godly form and resumed my place on Olympus.

You might then be wondering why Lester Papadopoulos was standing in line at a mall in Palm Springs, California, waiting to meet Santa Claus. Frankly, I myself was wondering the same thing.

I looked over to my young companion. “Meg, remind me why we’re here again?”

Meg McCaffrey — a child-turning-teenager with a fashion sense that could most charitably be described as “bold,” who happened to be both a daughter of Demeter and my former master — rolled her eyes. “I told you that you didn’t have to come.”

“No, no, I’m happy to join you,” I assured her, “I just don’t fully understand…”

She shrugged. “It’s my first winter not living in Nero’s house — the first one I can really remember, anyway. I wanted to, I don’t know, see what all the hype was about Christmas.”

Nero — one of the aforementioned wannabe emperor-gods. He was Meg’s abusive former stepfather, and a man who had a penchant for burning Christians alive on crosses — no, I couldn’t imagine he would have tolerated any inklings of a Christmas celebration under his roof.

“Why this, though?”

“I looked up a list of Christmas activities,” she said matter-of-factly. “This was at the top.”

We shuffled forward as the line moved.

“Hey Apollo, is Santa Claus real?”

“Well, the man we’re waiting in line to meet is just an ordinary mortal in a costume,” I answered.

The woman in line in front of us covered her son’s ears, then glared at me.

I lowered my voice. “But as for whether a real Santa exists…” I shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure.” We gods tend to keep our noses out of other pantheons — things get too confusing otherwise.

Meg hummed. We inched closer to the giant candy cane-striped poles at the front of the line.

“Artemis inspired a lot of the legends around Santa Claus, you know.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah, like the whole sleigh-pulled-by-reindeers thing — that’s all her.” It was hilarious, seeing some of Artemis’s mythology co-opted by a jolly old man. I always remembered to tease her about it when the weather turned cold.

“Are you not a little old to be sitting in Santa’s lap?” a female voice drawled from my left. I turned around to see a young woman dressed in a green dress and stockings, with turned up shoes and a hat with a jingle bell dangling from the point. She was very pretty.

“I could always sit in your lap instead,” I said with a winning smile. It should have made her melt… but I had forgotten that I currently looked like seventeen year old Lester Papadopoulos.

Her lip curled, and I was struck with the sudden feeling that I should recognize her. “I would rather eat this stupid hat than—”

“Ohhhh-kay!” Another young woman dressed as an elf pushed her way between us, steering Meg and I towards the dais. “Santa can see the next guests now, here you go.” She shoved us (well, me) rather unceremoniously towards the bearded old man.

I had to admit, the man hired by the mall to play Santa Claus was a good fit for the part. Seated on the throne-like oversized green armchair was a plump old man dressed all in red, whose snowy white beard looked to be the real deal. His cheeks were indeed rosy, and his silvery-grey eyes seemed to twinkle behind the pair of spectacles perched on his cherry-red nose.

“Ho ho ho,” he motioned towards Meg, who climbed into his lap. “What is your name, my dear?”

“Meg.”

“And what would you like this year?”

“I—” Meg glanced at me, then whispered in Santa’s ear so I couldn’t hear what she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “That is your desire?”

She nodded.

His eyes softened. “I will do what I can, young Meg.”

Meg smiled, then gestured for me to come over.

“Oh— No, I don’t think…”

“Come on Lester,” said Meg, getting up and physically dragging me towards the armchair. “You’re holding up the line.”

Thankfully, I managed to sit myself down on the cushion next to Santa, rather than in the man’s lap. “Um, hi,” I said.

His hand came down on my shoulder, harder than I expected. “I don’t think I need to ask you what you want,” he said in a voice for my ears only, “do I, Apollo?”

I froze. “How— How did you—?”

He chuckled. “I think you’ll get what you deserve.”

A shiver went up my spine. “Meg—”

Santa cut me off. “Yes, come back young Meg. We will now take a photograph.”

The photographer was another young woman dressed as an elf. “Everybody smile for Santa.” She said it so unenthusiastically I could hardly believe she’d been hired for the job. “Three, two, one, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Meg and I chorused as the camera flashed.

Later, I saw a copy of the photo — Meg was smiling. I looked like someone had whacked me over the head with the giant candy cane.

We went into the Hallmark store next.

“I’m telling you Meg, that Santa was creepy.”

Meg breezed past the stuffed animals without interest. “He seemed nice to me.”

“You didn’t hear what he said to me! He was all ‘you’ll get what you deserve.’” I gestured with my hands to emphasize the creepiness.

Meg snorted. “Does that mean you’re on the naughty list?” She bent over to inspect the bin of wrapping paper rolls, then picked up a tube decorated with unicorns, twirling and brandishing it like a weapon.

“He called me Apollo.”

That, at least, gave her pause. “Maybe he overheard us talking earlier.”

“But—”

She bonked me on the head with the roll of wrapping paper. “Hey, what are these for, anyway?”

After she was done with the wrapping paper, Meg moved onto the rows and rows of holiday greeting cards. I stood next to her, waiting for her to finish — and no, I was not sulking.

The jingling of bells at the entrance told me that someone else had entered the shop. I peeked around the corner and immediately regretted it.

“Meg,” I hissed. “Meg!”

She looked up from a card that read, Christmas is always a CLAUS for celebration! “What?”

“I think Santa Claus is stalking me.”

“Okay.” She flipped through a few more cards, including one that blasted a very tinny rendition of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. “Can we go ice skating next?”

Meg and I argued all the way to the ice rink, which was conveniently located inside the mall.

“You’re overreacting, Apollo. It’s like that time with the two-headed snake man. You were totally convinced he was gonna attack you.”

“Two-hea— The amphisbaena?!”

Meg snapped her fingers. “Yeah, that guy.”

“The one who recited part of the terza rima prophecy, telling us our lives depended on Nero’s own?”

Meg gestured as if to say, what’s your point? “Did he attack you?”

“W-well, no.”

“See? Overreacting.”

“That’s hardly fair,” I spluttered. “Luguselwa shot him dead less than two seconds later! We don’t know that he wouldn’t have tried attacking me.”

Meg gave me a pitying look.

“In any case, why would Santa have gone into the Hallmark store if not to follow me?”

“How about because it’s near the North Pole area and he was on a break?”

I… didn’t actually have anything to counter such a reasonable explanation. But the ice rink was four floors away and on the opposite side of the mall. I knew that if Santa appeared there, it would be proof that he was following me.

Despite my misgivings, the skating was actually quite fun. Artemis, of course, enjoys all manner of outdoor activities, so ice skating is something I occasionally do with her, and I actually enjoy it. Meg was also better than I’d expected. I must confess that I thought she would cling to the sides the whole time, but she took to it the way she does with most athletic activities — a decent amount of skill, and enough enthusiasm to make up for the rest.

The trouble didn’t come until afterwards.

After exchanging the rental skates for our shoes, Meg and I split up briefly — Meg to get us a table, and me to buy hot chocolate from the concession stand. I had just gotten in line when I saw him around the corner, leaning casually up against the wall. As if he could sense I was looking at him, Santa turned to meet my gaze.

Then he winked.

“That was fast,” Meg remarked as I approached the table. “Wait, where’s our hot chocolate?”

“I’ll buy you some somewhere else,” I promised, ushering her through the mall. “I’ll make it myself, even. But we need to get out of here, now.”

We made it through the mall without incident. When we got to the parking lot I had almost started to relax, which you should never do when you are being followed by a creepy-stalker-mall-Santa. Because somehow, he had beaten us there, and he was standing in the middle of the lot, staring right at me.

I ran.

Now Apollo, you might be thinking, you’re a god! Why not use your godly powers to smite him, or at least draw upon your bow and arrow, or combat ukulele? A reasonable question. But dear reader, I’m afraid I must admit…

I forgot.

Look, after a long period of being a mostly helpless mortal, certain habits just get ingrained, you know? Especially since I was currently in my Lester form. If I’d had more time to think about it I could have done something else, but as it was, all my thoughts were devoted to getting away as fast as possible. Meg, not wanting to be left behind, had little choice but to run with me.

We were making good ground — when I glanced back I couldn’t even see the red-suited man among the cars behind us. But then I said the five words you should never say when you are being pursued.

“I think we lost him!”

As soon as the words left my mouth, a looming shadow overtook us. I looked up to see Santa on his flying sleigh, pulled by a team of eight reindeer.

Well, at least that confirmed my suspicion that he wasn’t an ordinary mortal.

As Meg and I watched in stunned horror, the old man reached into a sack and pulled out… A bow and arrow?

The whizzing of an arrow narrowly missing my ear was enough to get us back into motion.

“Does Santa Claus have a bow and arrow in the stories?” Meg shouted, ducking and weaving to avoid the volley of arrows.

“I don’t think so,” I shouted back, “but I don’t know enough about Christianity to say otherwise!”

Meg yelped as the elf-women appeared seemingly out of nowhere, separating the two of us. I tried to go after her, but the arrows from above kept me from moving in that direction.

I turned the other way, running down an alley that I hoped would be too narrow for the sleigh to follow. Unfortunately for me, it was also a dead end. I stared aghast at the brick wall, listening to the clunking, scraping sound of boots on the asphalt behind me.

“Nowhere to go, Apollo.”

I turned around, expecting to find myself on the wrong end of Santa’s bow, with an arrow aimed straight at my chest. Instead, I saw something far stranger.

Before my eyes, the old man began to transform. The red suit warped and changed, lightening in color until it was a dress whiter than the freshly driven snow. In contrast, his hair darkened to a deep auburn, growing in length until it was past his shoulders. Wrinkles and the beard melted away, and the body shrunk from an old man to the figure of a girl who appeared no more than fifteen. The only feature to remain unchanged was the eye color — the silvery-grey eyes of my twin sister, Artemis.

“You should see the look on your face, little brother,” she cackled.

A million questions flooded my brain, but the first one out of my mouth was, “What happened to Meg?”

Artemis rolled her eyes and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out of the alley. There I saw Meg, standing unharmed amongst the group of elf-women. No, I realized, not elves.

They were the Hunters of Artemis.

I looked back to my sister, my mind still reeling. “What… Why… Why did you do this?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Isn’t this what you wanted, brother of mine?”

“…What?”

Artemis smiled. It was not a friendly expression — more akin to the baring of a wolf’s teeth than a gesture of good intentions. “You do so well to remind me every year when the air chills and the mortals decorate their homes with potted conifer trees.” She raised her voice to a high falsetto. “‘Oh Artemis, is your chariot prepared with toys for the little children?’ Or, ‘Are you ready for the big day? No, not the winter solstice, the other thing.’ Or—” Her eyes flashed. “Any number of comparisons between myself and one who is wrinkled, bearded, and a man.”

Ah. Teasing my sister had come back to bite me.

I gulped. “W-well, I’m afraid there’s really only one thing I can say…”

“And what is that?” asked Artemis.

I locked eyes with Meg. “Run!”