#THIS IS ALL BERSERK’S FAULT

[heraldofcrow]

Berserk fans 🤝 Dark Souls fans

*preparing for apocalyptic events any time a perfectly normal solar eclipse happens*

[orcarnage]

ehe here's today's contribut-

UNHANDME GUARDS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? FUCK DO YOU MEAN FEMTO IS SENDING ME TO THE DUNGEON??? JESTER'S RIGHTS!!! JESTER'S RIGHTS!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH HEEEEELP

(i am forcibly dragged out and blacklisted from stepping foot in falconia)

>white bg here under the cut

[ta-bajna-cerna-okybaca]

Now that I finally got to play TWST diasomnia chapter 1 myself, I'm gonna need everyone who said Malleus was a baby throwing a tantrum for no reason to pay me 2000 dollars each

[nomsfaultau]

Discord really is such a place

“You know what, we're going to make the conscious decision to believe this is a dream, because this is freaky” -scp Tubbo having a very bad day

[loth-caatgirl]

not to sound cwazy conspiwacy or nuffin, but I've never seen Casca Berzerk and Kabru Dunmeshi in the same room at the same time

[jupiterisnastar]

You just look like my prettiest girl

Between my crush on golden retrievers and nerdy guys. There's something about Jason Todd that just SCREAMS Rottweiler boyfriend!

Jason would always cuddle by hugging you from behind on bed, his hands resting on your tummy and his face buried on your neck, little kisses on your skin and sometimes little bites because Jason can't help himself.

He would always put the shared playlist you two have in a low volume, just to help himself relax after a rough patrol where the Bats put their noses in his business. Sometimes Jason wishes he could put a bullet in their heads just to make this nonsense stop. But you would get at mad at him so he just content himself with ignoring their pestering.

Being with you helps Jason ignore the loud voice of the pit screaming for him to kill everyone and everything that annoys him. It's almost like the pit likes to be cuddled by you and your soft body, who just look like the prettiest thing in the whole world.

When he feels too overwhelmed, Jason lays his head in your soft tummy and just close his eyes, relaxing even more when your fingers began untangling his hair, Jason always feel like melting when you do this.

And when you wear his big t-shirts? Oh boy, he goes to heaven and comes back in one simple go. And blame him from making out with you every time he sees you like this, it's not his fault that you look so cute and pretty like this.

Now, Jason can't help but gatekeep you from his family. If Dick sees you he would want you from himself! And Jason can't have this, can he? And Tim would go all gushy if he talks with you because you're so damn intelligent, and the Demon spawn is a brat, he would spill all the blackmail he has on Jason. Duke is chill tho, so Jason would talk about you from time to time to him, but not much to make Duke interested in meeting you.

Jason is so protective and possessive, always having a hand on you, always looking out to be sure that there isn't any danger, always making sure you're comfortable, and that you are safe.

If girls flirt with him? It's over to them. He will simply glare at them with the most disgusted expression, as if they are the ugliest thing he ever saw (and they are, at least in Jason's opinion).

Your happiness is his priority, you aren't feeling pretty? Well, seems like Jason needs to reassure that you indeee are pretty, even if that means having you in front of a mirror while he listed everything he finds hot in you.

You think that you are too fat? No problem! Jason will make sure you are comfortable in your own skin, if you want to go to the gym he is going with you, a diet? He's already talking with a nutritionist to know what's the best and safest diet you should do!

You think that you need new clothes? Don't say another word, he's using all his money to buy you the best, prettiest and comfortable clothes for you. Jason is your loyal servant and you are the Goddess of his life.

Jason would kill, torture, and die again if that means making you happy. You're the sole reason of why he's still barely sane and didn't go berserk. You are his happiness, and he hopes to be yours too.

Just trust him, okay? He will make sure you are safe and happy. Pinky promise

[schwarzkatje]

i, for the life of me, cannot stop thinking about ellie wearing a packer. meaning she goes all day with slightly tented pants and a comfortable weight on her crotch. fortunately, she isn't as shameful as one might think, so she at least tries to conceal the bulge by wearing her longer shirts.

it's different than when she puts her strap on, but nonetheless it gives her such confidence and power that it's slowly becoming an habit. the times where she doesn't go out wearing it are exceeded by those when she does.

she swears that the mere image of you palming her through her jeans is enough to elicit a chocked whimper. she has to squint her eyes and remind herself you two are in public not to go berserk and just take you right there and then.

if we gotta be honest, ellie doesn't even need to be touched to wet the base of the toy. the moment she watches you across the room dancing for her will cause a sticky sensation down there. she sprawls on the armchair, spreading her legs and massaging her crotch while tracing every curve of your body. she can't help biting her lips and relishing in the obscenity of the sexual tension she created.

if you go on your knees and start mouthing the packer through her pants or boxers, rest assured you will smell her musky slick, already collecting between her thighs.

the last and deadliest torture you can give her in such a scenario is if you straddle her and sink against her. ellie would slide in the armchair, planting her feet firm on the floor, in order to have your cores collide in the most delicious way. your pussy throbs as soon as you feel the bulge and it takes a quarter of a second for you to start grinding in the messiest of ways. in circles, thrusting up and down, humping back and forth, you name it. ellie is in literal heaven and her own pussy as well is stimulated thanks to you bumping against her. her hands encourage your hips by anchoring on the soft skin, urging you to go faster.

"you liked when i humped you from behind back then? i know you did. you're practically going stupid for my cock and i haven't even fucked you yet– shit, baby, like that..."

(i feel so ashamed but then again it's ellie's fault for being so fucking perfect and so my ideal type)

[bruisedboys]

sirius would always take the teasing shy!reader too far, till she’s slammed the door behind her and he’s on the other side like a little puppy

yeah 😭 he riles you up and then gets all pouty when you hide from him. I hate him (no I don’t)

shy!fem!reader 0.6k words

“Darling,” Sirius whines, fist banging on the door. “Open up.”

You don’t say anything. You’re annoyed at him. He’s been teasing you all afternoon and maybe it’s your fault for getting so flustered but he just wouldn’t stop. It was all too much and now you’ve locked yourself in his bedroom.

“Y/N, please,” Sirius begs, taking your silence in his stride. “I promise I’ll stop now, really.”

Somehow you don’t think that’s true. Somehow you think he’ll leave you be for the rest of the day and then go right back to his teasing self tomorrow.

“No,” you say quietly, not sure he can ever hear you through the door. “Leave me alone.”

Sirius groans dramatically and you think you hear his forehead thump on the door. You try not to smile at his dramatics. You fail and end up smiling anyway. You’re lucky he can’t see you, he’d poke fun for sure.

It’s not that you don’t like the teasing. It’s that you do like it. A bit too much. It makes your skin all tingly and your heart go berserk and you can’t stand him, you swear. You’d let him do it more if you thought you could handle it. You want him to do it more but you can’t handle it.

“Honeybee,” comes Sirius voice again, much quieter this time. Softer. “I’m really sorry.”

He’s buttering you up, you know, and it’s working. The pet names, the soft tone he only ever uses with you. The apology that really, he shouldn’t have to give. It makes you want to wrench the door open and kiss him on his pretty mouth.

Instead you turn the lock and open the door very slowly. Sirius straightens where he’d been moping with his forehead on the door. You open it just wide enough so he can see you.

“Sweetheart,” he says, looking one part sorry and two parts relieved. You’d think he’d kicked your dog, the way he’s looking at you. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “I, um. I’m sorry. I just got …” Flustered. Shy. Sick with love.

Sirius nods vigorously. You know he can hear the words you’re not saying. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

You smile despite yourself. “Stop saying sorry. S’not your fault.”

“No, but it is,” Sirius says, insistent. “I know I take it too far sometimes. It’s mean.”

He’s undoing you with his gentle apology. So, really, it’s his fault when you blurt, “Who says I don’t like mean?”

Sirius’ eyes go wide as saucers. “What?”

Now you’ve really put your foot in it. You duck your head and stare at the floor so you don’t have to look at him. Wishing it would swallow you up. “Um,” you say.

Sirius laughs, loud and startling. “Darling,” he says through his ridiculously delighted fit of laughter, his tone near chiding.

You grumble at the floor, refusing to look at him because you know he’ll make you smile as soon as you do. You don’t want to smile. You’re embarrassed.

It takes him a while to stop laughing. It fills your ears and creeps into your chest and vibrates around your heart. You enjoy it more than you should. Especially since he’s totally laughing at you. When he’s finally done he steps into your space and hooks a finger under your chin.

“Look at me, will you?” He asks softly, smile evident in his voice. It’s more of a plea than a question. You really can’t not do what he’s asking.

You look up. Sirius beams.

“There’s my lovely girl,” he says, dripping in a fondness that almost has you shutting the door in his face again. “My lovely shy girl.”

You want to duck your head again but he’s got his fingers around your jaw, stopping you from moving.

“Can I have a hug?” He asks softly, all puppy eyes and pouting lips, and you hate him, you swear.

You let him have one anyway.

-

[samberrybay]

This part in 32 chp always felt kind of odd to me and this is the reason why:

The coward wolf boy, Lock. Until Choi Han found him, Lock had been hiding as the chief had told him. The Lock at that point is very much a coward, a weakling, and kind of slow. In simple terms, Lock easily took the position of the character that readers found to be extremely frustrating.

This has bothered me since I first read the novel, and to this day, even after several rereads, it still haunts me.

Cale simply isn't the type of a person to actually call a kid, no matter how they behave, to be "frustrating".

(When the text said "readers" it's damn well obvious of Cale being the one to think so.)

Pondering for some time I can roughly guess why the wording was so unexpected for his character.

At the time of the assassination/kindaping in the village, Lock was only thirteen years old. He also hasn't had his first berserk transformation yet. Therefore it is not surprising that Lock's uncle hid him and told not to go out, saying that everything was fine and he should continue to hide.

Now let's look at the situation realistically.

Lock (in tcf) jumps out of his hiding to protect his younger siblings. The adrenaline and inner Blue Wolf Tribe's instincts to protect turned on his berserk transportation one year beforehand, however if not Rosalyn and Choi Han, who came earlier than in the actual novel, i don't think it would help much.

Lock would possibly be able to kill a few people or at least seriously injure them, but CMON. They killed an ENTIRE village full of berserk Blue Wolf's and with almost-Wolf King (Lock's uncle). Do you really believe that a thirteen years old boy jumping into his first berserk transformation would be able to fight properly against strong organization that had holy water or some sort of holy artefact on their hands?

Again, if not for Choi Han's and Rosalyn's arrival... it would have definitely ended pretty bad.

In TBOAH Lock for some reason didn't jump out. Different circumstances, wrong wroted part in the novel, idk, but the fact is stated: Lock stayed hidden. He also most likely survived only because of Choi Han's help. Just with much worse scenario where he was left alone from the whole village.

And it wasn't Lock's fault yet again. He was a child. No matter if a Beastman one or not, the boy was just an innocent, naive and weak child.

So why would Cale, Kim Rok Soo at the time, find him frustrating? Extremely so even!

The answer is much easier if you think about it.

Because it wasn't Kim Rok Soo blaming a kid for being weak and cowardly in a fearful situation, it was a man who saw his own past that he hated so much.

A coward, a weakling and kind of slow.

For Rok Soo, who blamed himself for half of his life for the deaths of team one members, Lock was like a salt for still open, but ignored wounds.

KRS greatly disliked and maybe even envied Lock for a bit. The boy got a new family, he got friends and some sort of guidance from them even after facing so much despair.

While he was all alone, trying to understand what to do on his own.

It sure is irritating for Rok Soo.

Yet Team Leader Kim Rok Soo was probably unable to fully hate Lock for his weakness, because while the latter was still a kid, the same forgiveness can't be used on him. At least in his own head.

So with conflicting feelings Cale settled on "Extremely frustrating" description.

[captainmera]

i never realised just how much tgb had changed how i thought about the characters (mostly vee) until yesterday when i was re-looking over my toh fan-art. You wrote them so well that i forgot that it wasnt all in the show. like how vee and gus weren't shown to being best friends, vee never got to be angry/shocked by hunter or just willow still holding a little grudge against amity. They are just cool details and im so clad they were added! ps your great

Thank you! Wow that's very flattering! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

I really like Vee, and the more I think about the gang's time in the human-realm, the more I sit back in my chair and think "Ah man, these arcs are really necessary and interesting though.."

Vee also holds a lot of plot, as a basilisk. We can speculate what the reason is that they were extinct, for example (grimwalkers were extinct too).

Wat I really enjoy about TOH's characters are how easily and smoothly they weave into each other's themes and arcs. Their personalities and histories makes them all perfect friends to both build them up and break them down. It's a chefs kiss.

Vee is no different! The set-up for her character was perfectly slotted in to what the other characters needed for their time in the human-realm. And the theme I think the human-realm was supposed to embody.

The demon-realm arc for Luz was a hero's journey, but because of the foil of the trope, and that the point was that: there is no hero/chosen one actually, and the rebels didn't make it in time like in the books, and just because it's a different realm it didn't mean Luz could escape - escapism is temporary.

Dana has said grief and hope are core elements of the story, and she chose to tell it through a foiled trope of being chosen/hero's journey, layered with a religious trauma lens.

To me, looking at Luz as the main character, means looking at her as a nerdy girl in need of escapism, wanting to find purpose, and avoiding her emotions about her dad's passing.

The return to human-realm would be, for Luz, a turning point where TOH turns from being about a hero's journey and a journey about the steps of grief and healing - at the end of it, she will find the light.

Vee, to me, is kind of like a new take on the guide character. She is not a guide, in the sense that she has all the answers, but rather all the truths.

She was right when she told Luz she had everything and still chose to run away. They're not the same. Vee is also a lot better than Luz at being normal and fitting in, something Luz has been playing off and avoiding facing. Luz sees herself as being different as a bad thing, she tried to run away to a place where "weird" was normal and that didn't work out. Now she's back home and feels that it's all her fault bad things happened, because she is herself. And the person she is is different. And different didn't mean special, just different. Of course she's depressed.

The same is true for all the other characters. Vee gets to reflect their truths too, simply by being crafted, narratively, into being the guide.

Hunter gets to face his actions as the GG, come to terms with the nuances of his bad actions, whatever reason he committed what he did. Find forgiveness not just from Vee but himself too. He gets to start over, just like her. She shows him it's possible.

Gus gets someone to share his dream with, his love and enthusiasm for the human realm. A place that Vee feels is more home than where she came from. Gus gets to grow as a person, both morally and intelligently. As does Vee, she gets somebody who shows her that she doesn't just have to be a refugee, she can have a purpose here. She can be an ambassador.

Willow was set up to have an arc where she mistook her newfound magical and physical strengths (she is working out a lot in canon after she changed track), for inner strengths. Willow is a sensitive girl, and a bit of a berserk (I mean she was willing to burn her own mind just to hurt Amity). Willow having to face Vee, who isn't physically stronger than her but is significantly further down the road of being internally strong, is something Willow can learn from. Perhaps even have conflict with! (but more so a conflict with herself than with Vee, really.)

With Amity, Vee has a simpler role. I think to Amity it's more so showing that it's possible to live in the human realm, and giving her hope that going back and forth is a future for everyone who wishes to do so. Creatively speaking, I think Amity and Vee more so to bounce off one another for the plot, rather than character growth or decline.

Camila, I think, is the most interesting. Because she has now spent approximately a year with Vee, half of it thinking she was Luz and having feelings about her daughter having changed so much, the line "I'm glad youre still creative" comes to mind. As well as the terror of losing Luz again. But also, because she has had her own unseen arc and development with Vee, and them having bonded into a foster family that we never got to see glimpses of, it goes without saying that Camila has already done the internal work to take on more kids if that's necessary. I think she saw these kids by her door and thought "yep. They're mine now too." Vee, I think, is interesting to toss into the family dynamic between Luz and Camila, who seemingly are misunderstanding one another significantly. Vee sees them both, and can be a voice of reason when it comes to it. Or if it would come to it.

ANYWAY MY RANTS ARE LONG. IM DONE. THANKS FOR READING.

[miquella-everywhere]

Miquella and Griffith: Why the comparisons make no damn sense

So instead of me screaming to the sky, "Waah Miquella is Griffith theories make me so mad grrrr I hate them so much" I've decided that I'm going to do an analysis between the two characters and dissect why the comparisons and Giffiths influence on Miquella makes absolutely no damn sense.

So first and foremost, warning: I will be talking about and spoiling Berserk, so if you wanna read it for yourself then steer clear of this analysis

So to start off let's discuss Griffith and his character/motivations in Berserks story: Griffiths whole goal from childhood was to establish his own country, his own paradise and to achieve that goal he first established his own mercenary group The Band of the Hawk. Griffith was beautiful and charismatic and the people who were apart of his band all looked up to Griffith and admired him, placing all of their hopes and faith into him and his dream.

But as the story goes on Griffith hits an all time low point, and after essentially being tortured for a year, which makes him emaciated, weak and practically crippled for life, all of Griffiths dreams seem like an utter impossibility as he is left as nothing more than a shadow of his former self.

That is until he decides to cast everything aside to become a God.

And by cast everything aside I mean that he betrays his companions, his Band of the Hawk, and sacrifices their lives to untold evils in what is absolutely the most genuinely horrific and unsettling imagery I have ever seen from a work of fiction in my entire life.

(Going off topic but I cannot stress this enough that if you decide to read Berserk understand that the violence shown pulls no punches with its depictions and involves both heavy gore and sexual violence. Especially the sexual violence)

Anyway, what makes the Band of the Hawks sacrifice so jarring is that these people all loved Griffith. They adored him. Backed him every step of the way and were the ones to go and rescue him as he was being tortured, and they all mourned the pitiful state that he was in when they found him. But regardless they STILL tried to be hopeful for Griffiths sake.

The Band of the Hawk loved Griffith and that is why Griffiths betrayal of them hits so hard and is why Griffith is known as one of the most evil characters in fiction.

And all of these reasons are precisely why Griffith is such a good and compelling character.

From the beginning of Griffiths introduction you could tell that something was... off about him. But at the same time his charisma and big ambitions painted him in a sympathetic light and you rooted for Griffith. But as the story went on you could see how Griffith was going deeper and deeper into the darkness and, quite frankly, his subsequent torture is entirely his own fault because he made several stupid and completely avoidable choices.

And it's all because Griffith at his core is selfish.

And it's for exactly these reasons why it's so baffling to me that so many people believe that Miquella is going to be just as evil, or worse, than Griffith.

Because in truth unlike Griffith, Miquella is not selfish.

The main problem that I have with the Miquella is Griffith comparisons is that all of those theories hinge entirely on the Bewitching Branch item description, and so many people have gone out of their way to spin Miquellas ability to compel affection as definitive proof that he is manipulative and evil, meanwhile conveniently ignoring everything else that Miquella has done in the lore.

So for a single moment, let's pretend that the Bewitching Branch does not exist and take a look at all the other lore that surrounds Miquella:

Miquella has dedicated most of his life to curing Malenia, his twin sister, of her crippling disease, and has even crafted prosthetics for her as well as an entirely new type of God Repellent Metal, which can halt the effects of said disease

He was a Golden Order Fundamentalist but ultimately abandoned it because it could not cure Malenias sickness

He created a Haven for those who are outcasts in the eyes of the most dominating and repressive Order in the Lands Between

He watered said Haven/the Haligtree with his own blood so it could grow into something that could rival the Erdtree

He used his identity as St. Trina to sing to and ease those who have been afflicted by the Frenzied Flame

There are several statues that depict Miquella and Malenia embracing eachother, 1 in Altus in an area dubbed Miquellas Hideaway and several all over the Haligtree. The fact that this statue is the dominant imagery found at the Haligtree really hammers in the fact that the twins love eachother, and that the Haligtree isn't just Miquella's, but Malenias home as well

He also has a clear affection/love for his brother Godwyn as the statue at the Haligtree depicts him embracing his siblings and even created a sword to commemorate Godwyns death and prayed for him to Die a True Death.

The soldiers of the Haligtree came across a bitter revelation as they await Miquella(presumably they feel immense guilt for being unable to protect their Lord) and explode with light, which they hope will guide Miquellas return and no Miquella did not put the light in them to make them explode there is absolutely zero proof of that, looking at you vaati

And now to be fair, lets get into the comparisons that are shared between the Griffith and Miquella:

Both are highly charismatic and beautiful individuals to the point where both Griffith and Miquella are mistaken for being girls.

The Eclispe imagery. For Griffith the Eclipse is what allows him to ascend to Godhood(after sacrificing the people who love him) and for Miquella the Eclipse is presumably how they are trying to resurrect Godwyn (Miquellas plans for the Eclipse are mostly unknown/vague at this point)

The Egg. Griffith and Miquella both go through a type of metamorphosis involving being encased in a cocoon/egg.

And honestly that's kinda it. The straight comparisons between the two are highly lacking and purely thematic in my opinion, especially when you consider everything else going on between their respective characters.

So to summarize, the good things that Miquella has done outweighs the bad and that is why Miquella is, in actuality, the exact opposite of Griffith. Unlike Griffith who is selfish, Elden Ring canon points to Miquella being a compassionate and loving individual, and if anything, he is a complete inversion to Griffiths character.

With the points listed above a majority of the in game text highly suggests that Miquella is kind and altruistic, and with the newest text regarding Miquella in the DLC:

Points to Miquella potentially being selfless and self-sacrificial.

And also, I've seen several people argue that Miquella wants to become a God so he can create his own utopia/Falconia like Griffith did. And I'm like.... Uuuum okay well, there is a big problem with that argument along with an elephant in the room that's being completely ignored, and that is the fact that Miquella has already created his utopia/Falconia with the Haligtree and Elphael.

So as of this moment Miquellas exact goals are completely unknown, what he is doing in the World of Shadow cannot be determined until the DLC arrives. But my point remains that so many people seem to think that Miquella will be evil based off of, in my opinion, evidence that is completely lacking in substance, along with the pervasive belief that since Elden Ring has drawn inspiration from Berserk/Griffith it means that Miquella will end up as a similar type of evil character as Griffith, all while ignoring the things that Miquella has done in canon that sets him apart as his own character.

So I've said my piece and what I believe in, so I'm just going to leave this analysis with this last statement:

The good that Miquella has done and committed himself too in the Lands Between completely outweighs the singular implied evil of the Bewitching Branch.

[pepperyhoney]

COLLEGE END TERM EXAMS ARE KILLING MEEEE but

I saw someone saying that he is blaming himself for something that is not his fault completely because he always does (re: AM retirement), and that katsuki is showing how much he is a soft person at heart. And how he is not to blame for this. But i have a slightly different interpretation from this.

i think Katsuki was not a soft person. and I think that here was not a show of how much he loves to blame himself. it is stated again and again how much of him is brash and callous and arrogant, and like his mother and himself said, he is given too much praise and never really tasted rejection or failure—except from himself. and even then, he never dwells too much on it and just keep having the mindset of improving and one upping everyone including himself. the sigma grindset, if you will. Even though his outward theatrics shows how explosive he is and how he gets so agitated at many things, he has shown that he has more emotional control in battle than even Midoriya-I-Will-Go-Berserk-Over-My-Endangered-Lover-Izuku. like he even has to remind Izuku to not dwell on things lest it kills him.

Then he came back from the dead.

The death itself is a significant factor. "Can I still catch up to you?" as one of his last thoughts, was something he now consider his reality, his acceptance of himself and Izuku. He reframed the way he tasted failure and rejection of what he thinks the way he is - of how he perceived Midoriya and that what he rejects about him in the first place then came to reject him in return-into something that once again motivates him to win and to always have a goal, his newborn northern star.

When All Might retires, he blames himself because all might is the symbol of peace and people around the world now lost it and there's a new imbalance that he feels are a part of his responsibility. But truly, regardless of anything, all might will retire anyway due to his injury. It is not his fault. He just hates the feeling of "failing" to save himself, that he needed to be saved. He doesn't want to accept that.

Then we get a narrative of how quirk is viewed by the world, the sides of it, and the darkest part of it. Izuku is shown to be affected by this too, while relying on his own belief that stems from all might idealism (the vigilante era). But then his class shows how much that idealism is no longer sustainable, and repeating the same things aren't going to do anyone any good. Katsuki, despite the lack of narrated inner thoughts, is a part of crowd who instill it to izuku as well. Then he apologized. He knows that Izuku is this self sacrifical because of him. That he thinks he can't truly save anyone without giving a part of himself. Which circles back to how he accepted izuku as a rival and a partner. He now see him as he is and accept the part of it was his fault. Katsuki went on with life because he thinks that now Izuku can always change for the better, like he always do, and he will be there on his heels, to be with him and to accept his hand, and i quote, "for the rest of their lives".

When izuku has to give up OFA to try save Tenko, when he really showed how much he is willing to give up anything- even the greatest gift and his raison d'etre that is propelling him to this point along with Katsuki himself (because you know, izuku extend his hands to everyone and that starts with his extension to Katsuki), That is really what hits home to him. That they're so interwined with each other, that izuku has always been a hero to him as much as he is to Izuku, that the extended hand he swatted all those years ago, is the same hand that still give a part of himself away to tenko shimura in an attempt to save him. Izuku was always a hero because he will not hesitate to save anyone.

Now that he saw Izuku as a rival, and saw izuku as what he is, he truly sees how much saving is tied to the act of being saved, that everyone has to help each other to truly win, that to protect someone, you have to be willing to be protected to save yourself, too. Now, the hand he rejected all those years ago, the person he rejected again and again, is unable to save himself from fate, and the worse part, he can't protect him from fate and himself. He saw how much his actions truly meant, he saw how apology only grazed the surface wound of the consequence of a childhood ignorance. Now he truly understands that all he wanted was to protect Izuku; that it was all a misdirection of what he truly wants, to be a hero that protects people. that misdirection in turn bites him in form of losing his hero that saved him from himself. So, with tears of realization too late, "no... just what the hell did i do to you?".

the despair he feels is because he has so much respect for izuku and that bittersweet feeling of knowing that izuku choice is going to change everything, as well as knowing he has a part on it. He can't take back anything, and izuku has to live with it, and how does it truly feel to see the one you now saw as your equal, goal, northern star, to rise and dim because of you?

Katsuki was not a soft person. he is, now. Because he is saved by the people around him. Thats why his wish was to save izuku, too. He wishes there was another way, he wishes that the fate izuku has didnt have to enforce izuku's already self sacrificing beliefs. He wish that he is saved from the fate. He cries because he knows he is inseparable from it all-even if it wasn't truly his fault. He loves and respect him and knowing he is inseparable of what makes him love and respect him is making him realize the gravity of the situation. He changed so much from the brash and arrogant kid he was, that now instead of being angry and challenging at fate not going his way, he yearns for them to change so that the person he truly cares about is saved. His admittance and heartfelt confession is one hell of a leap and show how much he changed, and reducing it to him blaming himself for something not his fault is kinda redundant and insulting to his character development.

[fireflyinks]

needy ☆

draco malfoy x reader angst/smut

a/n : OMG IM SO PROUD OF THIS. i hope y’all like it as much as i do because i loved writing it.

contains : p in v, fingering, use of y/n (literally just once), draco’s kind of a death eater idk if this counts though, praise, cursing

summary : makeup sex 🫡

Mature Content 18+

He wants to get a reaction out of me.

Draco Malfoy was known for his cruelty. Mean was his middle name. His scowls and arrogance proved this time and time again, and yet he seemed to be a different person around me. A kind, gentle, loving person. Until I make him angry.

Sitting on the common room couch, I watched as Draco felt up some slutty Slytherin girl, who wore a green dress two sizes too small.

The common room was decorated beautifully. Christmas was days away, and the scenery showed it. Holly was placed on almost every surface, along with a ginormous tree in the corner of the room. And yet, all I could seem to look at was Draco.

At first, I wanted to be angry. But that was just the reaction he wanted. I felt tears begin to form at my waterline, but that would’ve also given him satisfaction.

So I sat, and I watched. Ever so often, Draco would make eye contact with me, and smirk. God, I’ve never seen such an evil smirk in all of my days. He was enjoying this, Draco enjoyed making me miserable.

I stood up from the couch, smoothed my silky ivory colored dress with my hands, and went up to my dorm gracefully.

—

As my mother kissed me goodbye, I dreaded stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. I dreaded seeing him.

Draco and I hadn’t spoken in two weeks, the longest we’d ever gone without eachother. I couldn’t believe that he hadn’t reached out to me. Looking back, our argument before the party wasn’t even my fault. All I asked was why he had been skipping classes, and he went berserk. ‘That’s what you get when you worry about someone’ I thought.

I sat with a couple of friends on the train, trying my best to avoid Draco. Luckily, Pansy’s story about the boy she met at a dinner party she’d attended was interesting enough to distract me.

The first few days were casual, I manage to not come into close contact with Draco at all. But like clockwork, we were assigned a potions project together.

I pleaded with Snape, begging him to reconsider, but he refused.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I had too much on my mind. Sneaking down to the common room, I froze when I saw Draco, sitting on the couch while reading.

I began to quickly leave, until I heard his voice call out to me.

“Wait, don’t go.”

Sighing, I turned to face him. His expression was one I’d never seen on him before.

Needy.

“What do you want, Draco?” I asked, annoyed.

He got up from his place on the couch, walking over to me.

“I need to talk to you. And I need you to listen.”

I thought for a moment. Why should I? He made it very clear what he thought about me and our relationship.

“Why don’t you go talk to that girl you were feeling up?” I couldn’t help it, I had the right to at least one snarking comment.

Draco shook his head, “I don’t even remember her name.”

I rolled my eyes, “What do you want to talk about.”

He gulped, beginning to roll his sleeve up slowly. My eyes almost bulged out of my head when I saw it.

“What the fuck?”

The dark mark.

It felt as if I couldn’t breath. How could he throw everything away like this?

“Draco, why?” I sobbed out, tears running down my cheeks.

“It wasn’t my choice, n/n. I had to.”

Not thinking, I threw my arms around him. All of the pent up anger I felt towards him was gone.

“I’m sorry about that night. I was so hurt and stressed out, I wasn’t thinking. That’s not a good excuse though.”

I shook my head, “Don’t worry about it, that’s the least of my concerns at the moment.” I looked up into his eyes, tracing the death mark on his arm with my finger. “What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know. But I want to enjoy the little freedom I have left. I want to enjoy it with you.”

Before I knew it, Draco’s lips were on mine.

He mouthed moved slower than usual, which surprised me. Draco was not the type to take it slow. No, he was the opposite. And yet here we were, our mouths moving dangerously slow.

“Dray-“ I spoke through the kiss, earning a ‘hm?’ from him.

“I need you.” I said shakily. He placed a hand on the back of my neck, pushing me closer to him.

“Then have me.”

We made our way over to the couch, and Draco sat as I straddled his lap. We continued to kiss, though it got more sloppy as time went on.

“God, I miss this.” Draco said as he removed my shirt. “Nobody has ever been as good to me as you are.”

I blushed, feeling his hands on my chest. He massaged my tits, until he eventually attached his mouth to one of them. I moaned, throwing my head back.

“You like that?” He asked, earning an eager nod from my head.

His hands found my waist band, pulling off the sweats I’d been wearing. He rubbed my core through my panties, causing me to buck my hips.

“You’re so needy for me, princess.”

Pushing my panties to the side, he slipped one finger in, stroking my walls again and again.

“Fuck~ Draco, I need your cock.”

The smirk on his face said it all. “Hm? What was that? What did you say?”

“I need your cock!” I said a bit louder.

Draco shook his head. “There she is. There’s my dirty girl.”

Pulling his trousers down, Draco crawled on top of me. He kissed my neck as he grinded his bulge onto my heat.

Satisfied with my responsive whines, he released his cock and slowly pushed inside of me.

My eyes rolled back as he filled me to the brim, quickly beginning to thrust in and out of me.

“Draco~ God you fill me up so good.”

He groaned, placing a kiss on my forehead. “If you keep talking like that, princess, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

His pace became ruthless quickly. Sounds of slaps skin filled the room and I’m sure someone could probably hear us. But did I care? Fuck no.

There was something about the way he looked at me in these moments. So lustfully. I could see in his eyes that he was scared. Scared of losing me, scared of losing himself. I had to be there for him, whether I liked it or not.

“I’m so close, Dray.” I moaned breathlessly.

Draco nodded, “Me too, love. Go ahead, come on my cock.”

With my newfound permission, a coil seemed to snap inside of me, and I released as he continued to thrust inside of me. The feeling was devine.

His lips found mine and he came inside of me not long after. His thrusts continued, though they were shaky and sloppy.

“I love you so so so much Y/n.”

I panted, digging my nails into his back, “I love you too.”

Afterwards, he took me up to his dorm, and gave me one of his shirts to wear to sleep. We washed up, before cuddling. I tried my best to get some sleep, though I couldn’t help but stare at the dark mark on his forearm for hours.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Hey Polaris, hope this helps as a vent piece:

Anger is one of the main traits of demons. Everyone's anger has manifested outward at least some point yet, one person keeps it under Heavy lock and key, Dante.

One day, the anger manifests in its destructive, gruesome and targeted anger in his Sin Devil Trigger as it manifests when that last patient strand snaps.

So here's the prompt:

As Reader wakes up from a hard hit, once fully back to full consciousness, they witness that destructive rage that Dante kept under lock and key. Nearby, Vergil is protectively standing in front of Reader but something's wrong, his hands quivering as he keeps Yamato out in front of him. The real question now pops into Reader's head, how do you calm to a blazing inferno that's unrestrained and now in full swing?

Dante going on a full Sin Devil Trigger rampage (or, very angry Dante)

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Vergil wasn't one to fear easily - but one thing he would always dread to see; and that would be Dante losing his humanity.

Trigger Warning: Reader stops breathing and is seemingly dead for a while. Lots of blood, lots of anger, lots of self-loathing on this one (they all need therapy)

Author's Note: Oh boy, this was a conversation I was having with dear Fury: how Dante is 10/10 the scariest when he's mad because he keeps his demon on a leash *cough* Subhuman *cough* and he's the one everyone should fear when going berserk, not Vergil. With all the requests I'm having, currently, Fury decided to leave this suggestion out until I had a little more time to write...

Fast forward a few weeks, I'm having issues with a couple of ~friends~ and, honestly, I haven't been this angry in years. To the point of trembling, laughing like a maniac, and wanting to fistfight the gods. Hence, Fury sent me this vent piece so I could satisfy my wrath in a more ~healthy~ way. Hope you guys like it, though, Dante needs a big ol' hug and someone to openly cry too, not just Vergil.

Again, they all need therapy

Not many things could stir fear in Vergil’s heart.

Mundus’ voice, silently taunting him in the back of his head, the memory of everything he had been through in Hell was one of those things. The other one was his twin’s fury.

It was a rare thing for him to grip Yamato with an unsteady pair of hands, putting a lot of effort and strength for them not to tremble – but the sight of Dante completely lost in his bloodlust was not to be trifled with.

The first time Vergil saw it with his own eyes was in Hell, when he and his brother spent a considerable amount of time to cut down the Qliphoth. Vergil was used to the taunts of demons and Dante was as well… Or at least he should be, at that point in their lives.

But the taunts were many. They had been running through the fields of fire without sleep for a couple of days – in the human world, probably, as time had a different flow in Hell – killing everything in sight; and hearing every kind of putrid taunt they could.

What made Dante snap, though, was a simple implication: that it was Dante’s fault that Vergil fell and got subdued by Mundus, suffering endless nightmares for years to come. A strange glint sparked in Dante’s eyes at that moment. The scream that rumbled in his chest was enough to be heard through many layers of Hell.

It wasn’t Dante’s fault, Vergil knew that very well. He had refused to hold his brother’s hand, there was nothing Dante could have done. It was Vergil’s choice, and his sin only. But… For the first time, he saw how much his brother blamed himself for that. How much Dante had suffered, all those years, alone in the human world.

As above, so below… Dante suffered alongside Vergil all those years.

And all of that because of a stupid, childish decision from Vergil’s part. He observed Dante in shock as that realization came down on him – and as he watched the prized human heart of his twin brother seemingly disappear, giving place to a blind, bloodthirsty demon in full Sin Devil Trigger fashion, killing everything in his path.

Vergil stayed away from the destruction, always keeping an eye on his brother… If he could call him that. Dante – the foolish, laidback, talkative, jack of all trades, witty and quippy brother he knew – seemingly was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, and everything left was his demon, with a never-ending thirst for blood.

Not that Vergil hadn’t had moments like those, but he was always alone. He would always find the end of his rage on the floor, exhausted, weak and cold. And so, he waited for Dante’s wrath to wear off – patiently, observing with a heavy heart, sorrow and guilt.

He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother like that.

That was the reason why, when Nico put to vote who was the scariest when angry, you threw your vote at Dante. You and the rest of the crew, except for the Spardas, decided to have a night out at a local diner, just to wind down and have a bit of fun – that sort of talk was a given when you were together.

“Dante, really?” Lady raised one of her eyebrows, staring at you with nothing but doubt in her multicolored eyes. “He can’t hurt even a fly!” When she said that, though, all of the eyes of the group turned at her in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been hunting with him for a while. Dante can be a weapon of mass destruction, but he just… He doesn’t have that heart.”

“Hmmm… I think I have to agree with you on that one.” Trish slowly stirred her chocolate milkshake as Lady thanked with a sip of her vanilla one. “Look, I saw him killing Mundus. I saw Dante fighting the greatest and worst of Hell. He can be dangerous, but his human heart doesn’t let him be scary.”

“That is exactly my point.” You were ready to defend your thesis like a lawyer at court.

“Then why the hell would you vote for him as the scariest?” Nico didn’t have a cigarette on her hands because she had been forbidden to smoke inside the diner, but if she had, she would have been pointing at you with it. “Big flamin’ demon got nothin’ on Vergil, that one’s got the eyes of a killer. Got you chillin’ just by lookin’ at you.”

“Vergil doesn’t control his anger that much – I go as far as saying he doesn’t control himself as much as Dante.” And with those words, you won all the shocked looks you could at that evening. You would count that as a feat. “Is Dante a fool of a Tûk, as my dear Gandalf would say? Yes, he is. Is Vergil a walking death omen? Yes, he also is. But, I have talked to him about Dante being angry, and Vergil gave me enough hints to make it very clear Dante doesn’t let all his feelings out – he chooses to pass as a very aloof himbo of a man, but he is far from that. I’ve been his partner for enough time to say I agree with Vergil.”

“You might have a point.” Kyrie took a sip of her strawberry milkshake, as you let a triumphant smile take over your lips. “Dante might be playful, but we all know he has very deep emotions underneath that. It’s just like with Nero and his punk attitude.”

“But instead, he’s a cinnamon bun on the inside.” Nico topped Kyrie’s phrase, provoking some laughs on the group. That was the most accurate description of Nero if you had ever seen one.

“Dante loves his human heart, but he has a certain beef with his demonic one.” You wouldn’t say to the whole group you went as far as to believe he actually loathed his demonic heritage, as that was something too personal, but you had a hunch they all had some suspicions of that deep inside. “He keeps it in check, hidden, tamed. He lashes out when it’s a good time to do so – when fighting demons.” As you started getting some hums of agreement, you sneakily took Trish’s milkshake. “We have never seen Dante actually angry. And I don’t think we ever will.”

“Oh, now you’re makin’ it difficult.” Nico had to ponder those words, even if she couldn’t really see Dante being as dangerous as you said.

“Eh, not for me. I’m still going with Vergil.” Lady shrugged, firm on her opinion as always.

You took a little longer to get to the final vote – discussing what you had just said, as Trish called you out for stealing her milkshake and having it back, only to share it with you – but the answer was almost unanimous: the scariest one on a fit of wrath was Vergil.

Almost, because you kept adamant in voting on your red devil.

Vergil never came to know about all of that, but if he did, he would have agreed with you – not publicly, as he would hold his new title with pride, always content on inspiring fear as a way to keep himself and his loved ones protected. He would, however, agree with you privately, remembering Dante’s display of wrath in Hell.

That was the reason why his hands trembled on Yamato during your latest hunt together – the one where everything went wrong.

If only you would wake up. Maybe he could save Dante’s soul.

It all happened so fast, Vergil didn’t even see how things ended the way they were at the moment. On one second you were fighting by their side, on the other, you were tossed on the floor, soaked in your own blood, chest immobile. Not breathing.

“Y/n! No, y/n!” It was the very first time Vergil saw Dante dropping everything to run towards you. His brother let go of his sword, ignored all demons around and ran as if you were the only being in that godforsaken place. Vergil had to put himself between him and the demons, keeping them at bay as Dante quickly made his way to you. “Y/n! C’mon, babe! Y/n!”

Dante’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud as he dropped all his weight by your side – not feeling anything at the moment, but it would certainly leave a couple of horrid bruises. As his sky-blue eyes met that harrowing sight, desolation filled his face; Dante forgot how to breath for a split second, barely feeling his very own hands, legs tingling as his body seemed to sink in the ground even further.

Vergil stated the very same thing his brother did – and he never thought he could feel that way with the thought of losing you; but there was Vergil, with numbness on his fingers and a sickness in his stomach. You were the little light that Dante had found in his life, one of the only good things that had happened to him during all his damned years of living. Vergil knew how important you were, how only you could make Dante smile with a sincerity he only had seen when they were kids. What would be of his brother – his foolish, stupid, beloved brother – if he lost you to demons as well…?

The answer would come very soon, but not without a fight from Dante’s side.

“C’mon, y/n, open your eyes…!” Dante’s voice trembled, in a way Vergil had never listened to before. He watched as his twin brother desperately tried to bring you back, heavy hands massaging your chest, followed by breathing inside your mouth, and repeating once more. “C’mon, babe… Don’t leave me here…!” Those words were a whisper as he trembled trying to make your heart beat again, giving his breath to you once more so you could also breathe.

The realization washed Dante’s body as a cold wave, as he slowly felt he wasn’t in his body anymore – his body feeling your weight on his hands, but his soul completely out. Maybe flying away to meet yours wherever you were.

But then, a twisted symphony of distorted cackles and mockery ripped through his ears – the realization also came to the demons, and now they gloated with their first victory. Not only that, but humiliated the son of Sparda for losing his own beloved just like his father had lost Eva.

Vergil was ready to unsheathe Yamato and unleash all his fury to cut those demons in million pieces for that lack of respect – and to allow his brother to mourn properly. He himself had to mourn: you were too precious at the Devil May Cry for Vergil not to feel your loss.

But he wouldn’t need that. A deep growl grabbed the Dark Slayer’s attention, making him immediately turn to his brother. Dante got up from the floor with nothing but rage in his eyes bleeding tears, bare teeth as his demonic heritage boiled to rip through his skin and unleash all its fury on his enemies.

If only Dante had waited a single second, he would have realized what Vergil did. He would have heard a faint heartbeat – trembling, but fighting to survive. He would have seen your broken body trying to breath underneath the blood.

Dante killed the first demons with their own weapons, running towards his sword with a scream that only grew in strength. Vergil kneeled by your side, checking your pulse on your neck, staining his hands with your blood but stating what made his heart beat faster: you weren’t lost. Dante had to know.

The floor rumbled. As Vergil turned his attention towards Dante, he immediately turned back to you to protect you with his body. Dante’s scream thundered through the floor, as if it came from the deepest pits of Hell itself – and a thousand degrees exploded in sparks and molten lava as his Sin Devil Trigger took the place of the man who stood there before.

Vergil was used to the flames of Hell, they would not hurt him. But he wasn’t used to the wrath of his brother – and that might be something none of you would be able to recover. Vergil could take the heat of the explosion that took down many demons in its wake, but your human body couldn’t – and that was the reason why he had to do everything in his power to protect you.

Those silvery eyes turned back at Dante, still keeping a protective arm above you. Usually predatorial, now Vergil had nothing but worry in his gaze, watching with desolation as his brother became the bloodthirsty ruthless demon he never was.

In that state, Dante could make mistakes. He could hit you without even realizing. A misplaced use of his power, a wrong swing of his blade, another explosion of million degrees into hellish flames… Vergil could survive, not you. And, if Dante, who hadn’t realized yet you weren’t lost as he thought you were, ended up being the real reason of your demise…

Vergil didn’t even want to think what would happen.

For all he could see at that moment was a demon fiercely fighting other demons – or, better yet, easily subduing and mercilessly slaughtering all of them. And that was something that was so intrinsic to Dante’s heart: his mercy. Having Dante without his mercy, his kindness, his gentleness, his love, was the same as not having him at all… That was the source of his power, like rage was the source of Vergil’s power.

Watching his brother lost in wrath was heart wrenching, but knowing it could get even worse if he was to completely lose his soul was even more harrowing. Dante’s eyes bled his pain, even in that form, as he soaked his whole self in the viscous blood of his enemies – a monster beyond salvation, a creature without a soul, a lover without a heart. A man with his fragile hope crashed into pieces, abandoning everything that made him who he was, to allow himself to find some comfort through burning his own wrath.

For the first time, it downed on Vergil his brother might not come back. If he lost you, if Dante fatally wounded you, Vergil would never have him again – for Dante would lose the very last brink of humanity inside of him; a brink that Vergil couldn’t even see at that moment and didn’t even know if it was still there. Dante’s eyes were red, his growls distorted and animalistic, his power… Greater than Mundus, greater than even Sparda.

If Dante approached, Vergil would have to fight him. His brother wasn’t in a leveled state of mind to see logic – and he could hurt you, even if Dante would never do that. With all that blind wrath, though, Vergil didn’t even know if his brother would answer if he called.

Holding Yamato with a stronger grip than usual, Vergil stood in front of your body, guarding you from whatever harm that could come your way – be it in demon form… Or in his own twin brother form.

The cold hand of fear, though, slowly crept into his heart and held it on its stark clutches. Yes, Vergil spent his whole life sparring with that fool he had to call his brother – hearing Dante’s taunts and impossible physics, as if he didn’t even make an effort to make Vergil look like a complete buffoon during the fight, no matter how much technique and skill he had – but never Vergil imagined not having that.

Having Dante was a given. Fighting him was a given. Bantering, arguing, sparring, behaving like the bickering old set of twin brothers that they were. Vergil could say he wanted to defeat Dante, but he never wanted to get rid of him. What would his life be without his stupid brother?

Empty. Silent. Cold. Devoid of color.

Dante couldn’t go. And, most of all, he couldn’t go by Vergil’s hands. But if he was too much of a lose canon, if he was too far gone in his demonic frenzy, Vergil would have to put a stop to it…

Like Dante did with him as Nelo Angelo so many years before.

Vergil had to hold the cry that seemed to want to force its way out of his throat – holding back the tears that now glistened in his eyes. He was the most foolish of all… He was responsible for putting Dante on the same situation he found himself in at the moment – and just now he understood how harrowing, how painful and how much of a hell Dante had to go through.

Alone. Just like Vergil was alone in Hell – as above so below, the twins mirroring each other’s fates, on their realms and heritage of preference.

They weren’t so different after all.

As you started to hear the chaos around you once again, your head was spinning viciously and the pain that spread inside your lungs made you think you were going to explode. With an almost inaudible moan, you felt tears streaming down your eyes as you tried to open them, seemingly inhaling blood and pain every time you tried to breathe. You could feel you were covered in something wet and sometimes sticky, but it took some time for you to raise a trembling hand in front of your barely focusing eyes to realize it was blood.

Were you dead…? What had happened…? You could barely remember. You didn’t even know what hit you: suddenly everything turned black and now you were feeling like a bulldozer went over your body and somehow you managed to survive. Perhaps you didn’t, but if you were dead, you wouldn’t be feeling that much pain… At least, that was what people always said that happened after departing from the human world.

Plus, you could still hear the demons – but now, screaming in fear and trying to run away from something that was growling in such an inhuman tone, you wondered if you guys had accidentally summoned something bigger. By the noise, it had to be. The likes of Mundus and the other Kings of Hell – Vergil being the smallest of them, but still as deadly.

Perhaps it was Vergil…? To be fair, though, he never went all out without a really good reason. Maybe he thought you were dead? He appreciated you as much as a brother would appreciate his twin’s partner, but you didn’t expect him to have such a visceral reaction to your death; Unless…

You widened your eyes as your whole body seemed to be washed by a cold wave followed by a lightening that made you tingle from head to toes. Your heart sunk in your chest and the painful breaths you tried before were all but gone. Vergil would have a visceral reaction if he lost his brother. And that, you couldn’t even fathom: life without Dante didn’t exist… Or, at least, it would be something you wouldn’t want to go through.

You forced your body up, slowly turning to one side and barely using your arm to keep your weight as you tried to see what was going on. You had to find him, you had to find Dante. You would crawl to his body, you would shake him around as you could, you would give him your breath, you would give him your soul – but you would try everything to bring him back. You would hold him as tight as you could, you would cry over him, and there wouldn’t be a living or dead thing in this world that would be able to part you from him.

You widened your eyes once more when you saw Vergil keeping your body as a guardian warrior and the source of the chaos and destruction was your beloved red devil – lost in a frenzy, dripping with blood, eyes melting like lava and nothing of human in them.

You had never seen Dante like that.

“Verge…” You tried to cough the word out, but it was nothing more than a dying whisper. You couldn’t see how the blue devil furrowed his brows, thinking he might be hearing things – until you allowed a harsher breath to hurt your lungs so you could try to raise your trembling voice higher. “Vergil…!”

He turned his head enough to see you in the corner of his eyes – doing his best to still keep Dante in his sight. A wave of euphoria washed through Vergil’s body as his hands seemed to get steadier around Yamato: he was right, you were alive. As the fighter you were, the survivor you were… You were breathing and doing your best to get back on your feet again.

“Y/n…” But he couldn’t even talk: the floor rumbled again and Vergil knew what was coming. You placed your hands on the ground, widening your eyes and furrowing your brows, having never felt that before.

For a split second, you caught a glimpse of what was going on: Dante harnessing his power, ready to explode. You had never saw that. You had never saw his eyes devoid of his humanity. You had never seen your Dante as a complete demon like it was happening at that moment.

And, something that you had never been conscious to witness, Vergil threw himself over you to protect your body from his brother’s wrath. You had to cower behind his frame, gripping Vergil’s coat lapel for dear life, but still feeling the burning of a thousand degrees engulf you.

The blue devil didn’t even waver – but both of you had something in your eyes… The dread of the harrowing knowledge that that was Dante. All that destruction, that chaos, that blood… It was all Dante.

You were right, after all. His rage was the scariest to see.

“I need t-…” Your voice was raspy, having to stop mid phrase to cough some more blood that needed to come out of your lungs. “I need to talk to him.” You tried to take a deep breath, but once again it just stopped with a harsh sting on your chest. “He needs to know I’m alive.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with his head, but you knew he was still pondering what you had said. He helped you up on your feet – doing more of the work than you, easily lifting your body with his strength. “Dante isn’t himself at the moment…” Again, Vergil stood in front of you like a guardian, gripping the Yamato with both hands as soon as he saw you could stand by yourself. If you faltered, though, he was quick enough to hold you. “You must keep that in mind.”

“I know… And I am scared.” You answered in a whisper, looking over Vergil’s shoulder only to see Dante mercilessly slaughtering the last unlucky demons. “But it’s still Dante.”

Vergil didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He could have held you back and kept you safe, as his demonic side told him to do, but something inside told him he should let you do what you had to do. Those silvery eyes watched as you bravely walked in haste towards danger; towards hell and doom, ready to embrace it… And willing to make it stop.

“Dante! Dante, love!” You kept calling, but, as Vergil feared before, his brother didn’t respond. He was too far gone, too lost in Hell to come back that easily. Vergil followed your steps slowly, lingering like a shadow behind you… Ready to do whatever he needed to do if Dante’s demon didn’t even recognize you in that blind rage. “Dante! You can stop now… Dante!”

With all the filthy bloody corpses piling up on the floor, that flaming red-hot demonic figure slowly turned its head towards you. Covered in blood, sword dripping with red, molten lava eyes raining all its hollow pain. Expressionless, as he always was on his Sin Devil Trigger, made of fire and coal, hate and rage.

Did he recognize you…? Did he understand what was going on…? Vergil’s grip on Yamato got stronger, ready to unleash a blow on his brother in order to protect you. What you were doing was a gamble – and one with not so nice odds to you. There was a reason why Vergil let Dante’s anger wear out when they were in Hell: he knew there was a good chance Dante wouldn’t even recognize him at the height of his wrath, just like it happened with Vergil on those situations. So, to say the moment at hand was dangerous was a serious understatement.

But humans would always be fascinating, wouldn’t they…? At least, that was what Vergil thought. That towering demon with a flaming chest and leathery wings turned towards you, carrying his huge sword dripping with demonic blood, doing nothing but heavy breathing – and you decided to fearlessly walk towards it.

Humans.

Vergil kept his distance, watching it all unfolding with a weary heart and a trigger hand at ready to fight his brother – to death, if he unfortunately needed to – in order to protect you. He couldn’t have the certainty you had, as your steps kept going in Dante’s direction.

Your legs were shaking, your knees were trembling, but… It was your lover. It was Dante. No matter how much he was lost into his frenzy and wrath, you had to believe his heart would remember you. His soul. It all happened because he thought he had lost you, he had to come back upon knowing you were alright.

It didn’t matter how horrid his wrath looked like, you knew he was in there somewhere.

“Dante… It’s me, I’m alright…” Your voice was still a whisper, unable to speak too loud, but also trying to soothe the anger in his heart. You hesitantly reached out to him, making a growl rumble inside his chest and your steps stop for a while – with Vergil half-unsheathing his sword, ready to fight. “Love…” You called again, breathing as deeply as you could, resuming your walking and extending your hand towards him. “My Dante…”

You were finally at arm’s reach. Vergil held his breath, eyebrows furrowed, silvery predator eyes fixated on what was supposed to be his brother. You raised your hand higher, resting it on Dante’s face.

His Sin Devil Trigger form was nothing but rough. His skin seemed like hard leather and rocky coal, burning so hot it could almost hurt your hand. You wouldn’t back down though: compared to him, you were soft and cold, too fragile and breakable; but you wouldn’t leave. You caressed his rough face, fingers feeling the sharp teeth, the spiky crevices, the unwelcoming features of a face made in Hell.

You felt, though, an unlikely moisture reaching your fingers: a droplet, running from those fiery, empty eyes – those inhuman eyes. You looked at it running through your fingers to the back of your hand, looking back into those frightening eyes that had nothing of a soul in them…

But he was there, wasn’t he? It was him, a part of him that Dante always fought so relentlessly to keep hidden, to keep on a tight leash in the deepest corner of his self. You could see Dante in those eyes – and, as soon as that realization washed through the demon’s body, his head leaned into your hand.

With a flaming spark, the red devil was gone and you had the man back: tired, desolated, falling apart. Dante still leaned his head into your hand – now with soft skin, smooth lips, closed eyes and flowy white hair – almost like an animal that had never been touched with kindness in a whole lifetime. As he opened his eyes, you could see the redness of his tears crowning those sky-blue tones you always loved so much… And there was nothing but fragile vulnerable humanity in them.

“Hi, cowboy…” You whispered with a shadow of a smile on your lips, while your very eyes poured tears – you didn’t know what kind of tears, though, if of happiness, sadness, desperation, pity or love. Maybe all of them at the same time: it was inherently human to feel more than words could describe. You caressed his face as Dante himself started to pour all of his feelings out – this time, not in a fit of rage. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I thought I lost you.” His coarse voice came through as if Dante had been weeks without speaking and his very own vocal cords were barely working. You didn’t doubt his body would be in pain after all he had been through during… That. “I thought… You were gone. I’d never see you again, you were… Like… Like…” Dante closed his eyes again, head hanging low. He could barely breathe as the words fought to get out of his chest and stop suffocating him. His tears hitting the floor while you took his hair out of the way so you could see his face – there was nothing but pain; a pain that hadn’t been healed since he was a child. “Like everyone in my damned fuckin’ life; those things… I thought they had extinguished… Your light, like everyone… Like everyone eventually does… By my side…”

That was rare. Very rare. Dante was very honest with his feelings and usually didn’t hide anything from you, but not to that point – the point where he would honestly and openly say how much he thought he was the thing that doomed everyone else who decided to live with him or be friends with him. That loathing he had inside his heart, that he hid so carefully, it wasn’t something he would say out loud – it was something you knew because you always understood him so well.

You let go of his hair and locked your arms around his large frame, resting your head on his chest – you could hear his heart beating, his human heart. Dante hesitated for the very first time in his life, keeping his arms by your side for a split second, his teary eyes shocked with your reaction.

After all, you had just seen his absolute worst. All the things he always smothered so much inside himself, keeping them on check, always so controlled. You had seen it in all its spiteful and horrid glory – and your reaction was to embrace him instead of running away. Dante expected you to run, it would honestly be the logic and most human thing to do after seeing all of that.

But you walked towards him with your heart beating in fear, touching his face to grab him out of the pit of wrath he was buried into, holding him tightly in your arms as he broke down in all his anger, misery, trauma and self-loathing.

It lasted a split of a second indeed – for soon Dante’s strong arms were wrapped around your fragile body, keeping you close and safe from harm… As well as having his face buried on your neck, crying all that smothered pain inside of his heart out. Your bodies were too exhausted to keep standing for too long – so when your knees wavered, Dante did the same and you kneeled on the floor, never letting go of each other; Dante holding you as tight as he could, promising himself he would never let go.

Vergil could finally put Yamato to rest. When they were in Hell, he allowed his brother’s rage to wear off while observing from afar. This time, he could do the same: guarding you and quietly keeping you both safe and sound.

A sad ghost of a smile graced the Dark Slayer’s lips as he calmly observed you. Maybe his brother was right after all, and he could only wish someday he would be as strong as Dante to carry such power.

A human heart.

[lxmine]

afterglow + scara x gn!reader

+. angst with fluff???, toxic bf scara :<, inspired by taylor swift ehheheheh, not proofread, cussing

+. summary; tell me that it's not my fault, tell me that I'm all you want, even when I break your heart.

+. A/N hi lmao im so sorry for disappearing for so long i was being a lazy ass and was enjoying my vacation too much. anyway FONTAINE IS SO PRETTY T-T i have so much fun swimming with kokomi because she looks like a real majestic mermaid princess under the water <3 anyway, have this <33 ily guys

scaramouche isn’t really the boyfriend you thought you’d end up with. not with his personality, no. the first time you met him, you thought he was an asshole, and he thought you were a nuisance. and then share glares turned to annoying each other, to banters, to caring about each other, and then to… where you are now.

“i fucking hate you.” he says with a glare, and you just sighed. “uh hm, you do.” you said sarcastically, standing up from your seat. “don’t get that tone with me! i don’t need you! you think you’re all it, huh?” he scoffed. you almost wanted to laugh, and slap him a little. it wasn’t about you in the first place.

he was mad at a fatui diplomat for being ‘incompetent’, and then ranting it out to you, and then suddenly he shifted his annoyance to you. bringing up the time you ‘flirted’ with the 11th harbinger where in truth you were just having a friendly chat. and then shifted to wanting to break up. cursing out your existence like a prayer while he has tears in his eyes.

“that all, scara?” you raised a brow with a smile on your face. he was enraged. why are you always like that? he thinks you never take him seriously. you just smile at him whenever he says he wanted to break up, or when he says he’s mad. are you playing with him? “get out! get out of here!” he slammed his hand on his table angrily. “of course. i love you.” you chuckled before leaving his office.

it wasn’t long until he knocked on the door of your shared bedroom, his eyes puffy and glaring. “how-“ he didn’t even let you talk and just wrapped his arms around your waist, face buried on the crook of your neck, hands clutching on your shirt. “how come you’re still here? didn’t i tell you to leave?” he asked softly, no anger in his voice, just confusion with a hint of affection.

you hugged him back, your hand caressing his hair while the other on his back. “you don’t want that. you’d go berserk if i did.” you chuckled, and he tightened his hold on you, pulling you even closer. “i wouldn’t. i’d be happy if you did… i wouldn’t have to worry about you growing tired of me in the future.”

“don’t say that. you know i wouldn’t.” “what if you did?” “i wouldn’t.” “you would.” the two of you bantered. “i love you.” you said, cupping his cheeks making him look at you. “i fucking love you.”

his cheeks flushed, and his eyes welled with tears once again. it’s rare to see him vulnerable and insecure like this. you don’t tease him about it. you just shower him with love even though he’s being a grumpy mean guy about it. “why?” he murmured.

“because i love you.” you chuckled. “stop questioning my love, dummy.” you kissed the tip of his nose, his cheek, his forehead. “i’m an asshole, a jerk. everyone know that, why won’t you jus leave me already?” he glared whilst hugging you close.

“never.” you shake your head. he had never made you promise something to him, in fear of breaking it. but you never fail to reassure him that you wouldn’t be his fourth betrayal. no. “i’ve loved you for so many fucking years, ya think i can leave?” you chuckled.

“i can try, but god, scara. your kisses and your handprints are all over my soul, i could never.” you kissed his lips. he looked at you as if you’re the only one he’ll ever love. he knew he wasn’t good for you, you knew that yourself too. but fuck love for having the both of you in a chokehold.

“you’re so persistent, archons.” he sighed, pulling you even more closer. “then don’t leave me. even if i’m being a total jackass. i don’t mean anything bad i say to you, i don’t mean it when i say i hate you, don’t leave me when i say go away.” he mumbled. “i’d destroy teyvat if i ever lose you.”

“i love you too.”

see what i did at the 11th paragraph?

[skepsiss]

For the @steddiesummerexchange to @stevesjockstrap!

Batter Up: Chapter 2 of 5

Read [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Rated: Explicit

Summary: This fluffy story is about Baseball Player Steve Harrington, meeting Rock Star Eddie Munson and the whirlwind 1-week romance turned committed relationship. They're instantly obsessed with one another, but neither knows how to take things to the next level. Enjoy Steve being a love-sick idiot! (The story turns explicit in Chapter 4, other chapters are all fluff). In this chapter, we get to read Eddie's POV and how obsessed he is with Steve, too. Chrissy is here to cheer him on.

Read Chapter 2 below, or [read it on Ao3]

Big thank you to @thefreakandthehair for beta reading for me and helping me with my NBA terms!

Graphic made by me!

”I want to bite his ass like it’s a fucking apple,” Eddie gritted out, his hands tense and clawing at the air as he seemingly held back unfathomable amounts of sexual tension. “Gross!” Chrissy trilled, bouncing the squash ball in her hand against the ground to warm it up. “You don’t need to be so crass, Eddie.” “You don’t understand—” Eddie hissed, sitting forward in his seat as he spoke to Chrissy through the plexiglass. She gave him an unimpressed look, saying ‘really’ silently with a twisted lip and a raised brow. “Okay, you understand— just! He’s so fucking hot, and I swear to fucking God if he lets me near him, I’m going to go berserk,” Eddie groaned, sighing dramatically as he bounced his leg. “Don’t you have a date tomorrow?” Chrissy asked, squeezing the little black ball in her hand a few times before casually starting to bounce it against her racket. “That’s the problem! Chrissy! Jesus Christ—he’s like… fucking Adonis. How am I—I clam up like a Mongolian death worm every time he gets near me. I can’t—I can’t even get close to laying the moves on him ‘cause I’m, like, fucking useless. It isn’t even a date tomorrow. It’s like a poorly concealed, deep-fake, seduction attempt. I don’t know! You know I’m fucking useless at actually flirting with guys unless I’m off my fucking rocker, high out of my mind,” Eddie lamented, finally standing up and beginning to pace. Chrissy’s shoes squeaked on the floor as she served and started to play a single game of squash by herself. She was listening, Eddie knew she was, this was sort of par for the course with them. He was on Chrissy’s time, and he wasn’t going to complain about being stuck inside a squash court with his best friend, even if it smelt like an old sock. 

Alright, maybe he would complain a little bit.

“But we’re not—” Chrissy puffed, exerting herself as she kept up the conversation, “—going to get high—right?”

“No, I’m not going to get high,” Eddie groaned, feeling his fingers twitch against his leg. He had given drugs up—or at least he hoped he had—but that didn’t mean that it made existing without them easy. “I don’t want to depend on drugs to flirt, I just—I wish I was starting out with a smaller-fry, you know? First big thing out of rehab, and I’m smacked in the face with Steve Harrington? Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier? He’s just—-ugh! Chrissy!” Eddie whined, his stature devolving as he crumpled to his knees on the squishy floor. 

“Not my fault—you refused every invite—to baseball before—now,” Chrissy retorted, the bang of the ball against the wall making it a bit difficult to hear her. “You didn’t tell me my fucking Achilles heel of men existed in cotton spandex pants, and a baseball cap,” Eddie complained, crawling back over to the bench to pull himself up onto it. “He looks so fucking good, Chrissy. God… it’s like the gods sculpted his ass and put it inside white sheets woven from the strings of fate itself.” Chrissy missed the swing and puffed, putting her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “You’re really….” she sighed, finally looking over at Eddie and smiling at him, “... into this guy, Eddie. You going to write poetry for all the boys you get a crush on? It’s pretty cute, actually.” “Don’t call me cute,” Eddie huffed, rolling his face toward the bench to hide from Chrissy. “I just… don’t want to fuck this up, Cece…”

Eddie heard the door to the squash court open and the muted sound of Chrissy’s shoes against the mats. It didn’t take long for her to get to the bench and sit down with him, her fingers instantly in his hair. It was soothing, and Eddie only resisted for a moment before he inched forward and put his head in her lap. 

“You won’t mess it up…” Chrissy repeated, tailoring her reply so she wasn’t swearing as well. Chrissy was sweet, and Eddie was no stranger to this sort of kindness from her. They had dated, once upon a time, and Eddie could confidently say that Chrissy was the only person he had been with that he had really loved. He still loved her, even though they weren’t together, and he didn’t think he could ever not love Chrissy Cunningham, but the attraction they had once shared was void now. They just weren’t meant to be romantic, but Eddie knew that losing that intimacy with Chrissy had destroyed his heart. Still, he was more than grateful to have her as a friend. No one knew him better than Chrissy, and he didn’t hold out hope for them to get back together. It had been the drugs that had broken them up, but it had been Chrissy’s confession that she was more attracted to women that had kept them apart. 

He didn’t begrudge her, but Eddie had never been able to shake the feeling that he had been the one to fuck everything up for them. That it was his shortcomings that had poked holes into an already sinking ship. He was great at that kind of stuff— an expert at ruining a good thing. 

“I don’t know… if I’m ready,” Eddie confessed, his necklaces clinking together as he rested his head on Chrissy’s thighs. 

“Ready for what?” Chrissy asked, her voice gentle as she continued to pet his hair away. “A relationship…” Eddie sighed. He had been single for years now and had only really pursued flings or one-night stands. Even then, he had gotten out of rehab a few months ago and he hadn’t even tried to hook up with anyone since getting out. It was too intimidating to flirt when he didn’t have drugs to rely on, and now he was being blindsided by the prospect that he didn’t just want to sleep with Steve. 

“You really like this guy, huh?” Chrissy smiled, her tone so caring it made Eddie’s heart ache. 

He hid again, rolling his face into the crisp white of Chrissy’s uniform. She looked tooth-achingly sweet in it, and Eddie only let himself feel a little bad for getting eyeliner on her skirt. 

“Oh, Eddie…” Chrissy lamented, still petting his head. “You’re allowed to want things, sugar.”

Eddie let out a held breath, his fingers clenching at the soft fabric of Chrissy’s outfit. “But what… if I fuck it up?” He asked again, the fear edging into his voice as he let himself get vulnerable. “How would you mess it up?” Chrissy asked, sounding more like a mother than someone Eddie’s own age. “I don’t know,” Eddie whined, “open my mouth and speak? Show him the fact that I’m a giant fucking nerd with an ego the size of Australia and daddy issues that span the Atlantic Ocean?” 

“You’re being dramatic,” Chrissy sighed, her tone remaining gentle. “Even if that was true, if he doesn’t like or well… accept that kind of stuff about you, he’s not going to be a very good boyfriend.”

Eddie groaned softly, knowing that Chrissy was right, but hating the idea that they could just not work out, and he would have to let go of the idea of Steve Harrington. “What if… he’s just looking for something… short term?” Eddie questioned, feeling his heart and stomach clench in unison. “Well, then you get at least one great night of sex with playboy, Steve Harrington,” Chrissy replied matter-of-factly.

“Chrissy!” Eddie gasped, lifting his head to look at her. He was only mildly scandalized that she would say something forward like that, but he amped up his reaction to get a smile out of her. 

“Lots of ladies are frothing at the mouth to get a date with him, you know,” she continued, grinning. “And you’ve gotten, what? Four dates in the last week?” Eddie breathed a laugh and put his head back down, smiling at her reassurances. She was right. They had been flirting pretty relentlessly, and Eddie was certain Steve was interested in him. So, for flirting to extend over the course of a week… that had to mean Steve wanted more than just a fling, right? 

“You really think I have a shot with him?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet as he turned the idea of just kissing Steve over in his mind. 

“I really think you do,” Chrissy concluded, tugging Eddie’s earlobe until he hissed and sat up. “You’re a catch, Eddie.” He smiled bashfully at her and looked away, rubbing his ear. “Really,” Chrissy offered, patting his thigh. “If you’re just you, really you, without any of the fame or drugs or anything like that… he has to fall for you. If he already likes you enough to ask you out, I have no doubt that he’ll like the real you, Eddie.” 

Eddie frowned, still unable to look at Chrissy as she placated him with compliments. The worst part of it was that he knew she meant it. They weren’t in love, but he loved her. “You’re succeeding in helping my ego take over New Zealand, too,” Eddie teased, sniffing as he tried to hide how touched he was by Chrissy’s comment. She gave his thigh a good pat and then stood up, tucking the frills of her skort behind her as she walked back toward the squash court. 

“Who knows, Eddie,” Chrissy chimed, “maybe this is the makings of real love.” She flashed him a little smile and then slipped back into the court, picking her racket up and starting to warm the ball again. 

Eddie blinked at her, and then slowly felt his cheeks flush as he took those words in. Real love, huh? He really liked the idea of falling in love with Steve. 

Chapter 3