bea-da-bae

[bea-da-bae]

kept clicking snooze on my alarms and overslept, now im going to play my dmc mobile game

[bea-da-bae]

he looks so scary oh my god i love it

Red Vergil

[bea-da-bae]

shadow is cute

[bea-da-bae]

i wish we all had emojis floating over our heads to show how we feel at an exact moment yk?

and then like when we can't choose an emoji that fits our mood, we can just say, "im having trouble expressing my emoticons.."

[bea-da-bae]

oh my god oh my god look at them AWWWWWWWW im crying please this is so good SKSISISBSBJSISOSO

oomf told me to post my dmc art here from twitter

[bea-da-bae]

why does lady cuss so much in the netflix series

like does she drop f-bombs that much in the games too, orrrr

[bea-da-bae]

my current obsession is dmc. i watched the netflix anime and now i want to play all the games ànd be one with the franchise.

"☝🏾🤓 omg these newgens-" shut the fuck up oh my god shut up shut up shut up

[bea-da-bae]

I love how seriously we take their assigned colors like yes thank you for making me not normal about primary colors

[bea-da-bae]

Last Call, Devil Boy [Dante]

pairing: dante x reader

words: 900ish

summary: the bar you work at is a place Dante always ends up after a bloody job. you’ve known him for months now. maybe longer. maybe enough to feel jealous when he brings someone with him tonight.

please send me requests to write more of him hehe 🌟

The first time Dante walked into your workspace, he brought blood, sarcasm, and a stupidly charming smirk. He also left a demon head on your counter like it was a tip.

Tonight?

Well, tonight, he brought company.

You watched from behind the bar, nervously wiping a glass that didn’t even need cleaning, your eyes tracking him like they always tended to do. He entered like a hurricane—loud, grinning, confident in that crimson coat of his. But what made your grip tighten was the girl trailing behind him, heels clicking like a warning bell that irritated your ears.

She was pretty. Of course she was. Long legs, low neckline, clinging to his arm like she has always belonged there.

Hate was a strong word, but maybe that was what you were experiencing.

Dante swaggered up to the bar like nothing was off, slapping his hand on the wood. “Two bourbons, sweetheart. One for me, one for my friend .”

You raised a brow. Sweetheart , huh? That’s what he was doing now?

“Didn’t think you liked your drinks watered down,” you said coolly, reaching for the bottle.

He blinked, smile faltering for a second. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re in a mood already. I haven’t even flirted with you yet.”

“Oh no,” you said, pouring the drinks, “ this is me being nice.”

His companion giggled. You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. Instead, you slid the glasses over with a sharp clink and moved to the other end of the bar before you said something you’d deeply regret.

⸻

You tried to stay busy. Cleaned things. Organized glasses. Took a few more orders. But your eyes just kept drifting back to him. It was impossible not to.

Dante was laughing at something she said, leaning in close. His hand brushed her thigh, and she didn’t stop him. And it shouldn’t have mattered. You were just a bartender. You just gave him whiskey and sarcasm. That was it.

But then again…

Why did it feel like your chest was being squeezed by invisible fucking claws?

“Damn it,” you muttered under your breath.

When you finally turned back around, they were gone.

⸻

You should’ve felt relief, glad the disturbing sight was over. But the sickness in your stomach refused to let you be.

The bar quieted down after midnight. A few regulars still lingered, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle on autopilot. You were wiping down the counter again when the door creaked open. You didn’t look up. That was starting to become a habit.

“Bar’s closing soon,” you called out, flatly.

“Well, damn. And here I was hoping you’d miss me.”

Your heart jumped. Of course.

You refused to look at him. “You forgot something? Or just back to show off your trophy?”

Silence. Then a low sigh.

“She’s not— Look, she needed help. It was demon-related. She insisted on buying me a drink after. That’s all.”

“Right. And she just happened to cling to you the whole night?”

He stepped closer, boots heavy on the floor, voice quieter. “You jealous?”

You finally looked up, eyes hard, almost watery. “Does it matter?”

His gaze locked with yours—intense, unreadable, and something else. Something that looked a hell of a lot like guilt.

“Yeah,” he said, “it kinda does.”

You blinked, the sarcasm evaporating in an instant. You shouldn’t have said anything. He’s him and you’re…

Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

“Dante…”

He leaned against the bar, suddenly looking older, more tired than usual. “You think I come here for the overpriced booze and your sunny attitude?”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but the words got stuck in your throat.

“I come here,” he continued, voice rough, “because this place feels real. Because when I walk in and see you behind the bar, something in my chest unclenches for a minute. Because I like the way you look at me like I’m not just some damn weapon.”

He paused.

You couldn’t come up with anything to say. You expected to exchange a few words of irony with him, maybe the usual bickering, but this?

Not in your wildest dreams.

“And yeah, sometimes I screw it up. Sometimes I walk in with someone I shouldn’t. But that’s just job shit. You’re the one I think about when the fight’s over.”

You felt like he’d punched the air out of your lungs.

What the fuck?

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I’m not good at this, alright? I kill things. I crack jokes. I don’t—” He waved a hand. “I don’t do feelings.”

You leaned on the bar, trying to steady yourself. You felt lightheaded, everything happened so fast, you didn’t have enough time to let everything sink in.

“Then what are we doing, Dante?”

He looked at you, eyes softer now, stripped of their usual cockiness.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I know I keep coming back to you. Even when I shouldn’t.”

You exhaled slowly, fingers brushing the edge of the bar.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered.

You loved it.

He smiled faintly. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot, if you’ll have me.”

You shook your head, lips tugging into a reluctant smile. “You’re gonna give me grey hairs, devil boy.”

He grinned wider, leaning in closer across the counter. “Then I guess I better make ‘em worth it.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved a shot glass toward him. “Last one. Then you’re helping me close.”

He downed it with a wink. “Only if you promise not to kick me out after.”

You smirked, heart fluttering as always. “Depends on how you behave.”

[bea-da-bae]

Yahoo I did the thing! It’s my first time posting something rather long, so please don’t mind it-

Anyway, Ultraviolence by Lana is them, no?- No?-

[bea-da-bae]

When someone thirsts for Hobie in the notes of my posts, I imagine him reacting like this.

[bea-da-bae]

Went nuts and did some crazy spider-punk fanart so here ya go!

[bea-da-bae]

eating cereal at 4pm on a Saturday.

sighhhhh.

[bea-da-bae]

unadulterated loathing

[bea-da-bae]

I need everyone to work together on this. Okay. If you're not familiar with Wicked but are maybe going to see the movie, let me entice you: Wicked is SO GAY. Elphaba and Galinda literally have a song about how much they hate each other that is a mock love song. They are not normal about each other. Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande have clearly not only leaned into this judging by the trailer clips, but highlighted it, elevated it, and brought these two to sapphic heights never before seen in a movie of this budget.

It's time. It's time for an incredibly annoying femme ship. I want people to talk about Gelphie in the same breath they talk about Spock/Kirk or Harry/Draco. I want them to be EVERYWHERE. I want sitcoms to make jokes about the weird little 16-year-old daughter being really into Gelphie fanfiction. I want to hate these two. I want my eyes to roll to the back of my head whenever I see them. I want unskilled fanart to absolutely DROWN the internet. It's 2024. It's time for an Exhausting Lesbian Ship.

Please. Come with me. Think of what we can do. Together.

[bea-da-bae]

why do fine fictional men have to be fictional? like... oh my fucking god be real this shit isn't fair. you're doing it on purpose. stop it.

[bea-da-bae]

hello im beatrice, call me hunnie, bea, or hunniebea if u want. i'm scared to post stuff bc i'm scared of judgment, but i'll probably do it rarely.. anyone can interact idc just don't be stupid and have human decency.

you can send asks if u wanna get to know me or anything i just don't rlly wanna list stuff😭 im too lazy, but ill answer any asks bc i have nothing else going on in my life sooo. yeah.