#but we all know how annoying Dante is as a boss fight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prolestariwrites · 4 years

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Tension

Fandom: Devil May Cry Rating: Explicit Characters: Dante, Vergil, Reader (no Spardacest) Tags: MMF, Threesome, Explicit Sexual Content, Oneshot Words: 5539

Collab with @solynaceawrites

Summary: Dante and Vergil fight about everything, even you. Tired of the arguing, you decide to make them use all that energy in a much more productive way. Contains MMF threesome but not Spardacest.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ You’re not quite sure when the tension got so unbearable.

Maybe it's on you. After all, you had been the one to kick Dante to the van while letting Vergil stay in the shop, and you know that the two of them have a rivalry a mile wide and a thousand feet deep when it comes to anything and everything. So, you suppose that it's possible that Vergil had, in some way, seen that as you choosing him over Dante, though really all it had been was you needing time to deal with Dante being back.

You and Dante had had a complicated relationship even before he went off to “fuck around Hell”, as you liked to call it. Friends? Friends with benefits? Love? You never had the chance to really define it before he left you for six months without a word of goodbye and the deed to the Devil May Cry, making you the owner. For six months, you thought he was dead, mourning the loss of the man you thought you’d be with forever, until he waltzed back into the shop like nothing was wrong and got a well-deserved fist to the face courtesy of you.

When they returned, you refused to give up ownership, too pissed at Dante for leaving so recklessly and breaking your heart to give him the satisfaction of getting it back. So you remained on as the boss, a role Dante didn’t seem to mind at all, even though your two new employees were very talented at driving you crazy. You had given jobs to both of them as equally as you could. You gave Vergil the same cold shoulder you gave to Dante. In all ways but where they were sleeping, you treated the twins exactly the same, but somehow it's all led to this. Even though you’re not quite sure what this is.

After a month of living in the van, you had let Dante move back in, albeit begrudgingly. He'd wanted a second chance to apologize and make things right between you, and you missed him enough to let him do it. Slowly, painfully, he'd opened up to you, all of those secrets he'd held onto for so long spilling out in fits and bursts over weeks until you knew everything he'd been through and the hurt that'd been festering in him since his mother was killed. You hadn't quite forgiven him completely, but he'd been back in the bedroom by then and you made the choice to try and put the past behind you so you could grow together.

You hadn't noticed Vergil's behavior until you walked into an argument between him and Dante that had wrecked half the shop. Sure, he'd been a bit nicer to you, or his version of it anyway, helping with the files and the bills, making sure that you got first call on the shower. Small things that you’d expect from someone walking on thin ice as far as you were concerned. Dante had told you later on that Vergil was doing his best to court you in his awkward way. It'd been a shock, but knowing what to look for had made it painfully obvious how blind you had been to what he was doing.

Which has led to your current predicament, standing between the twins and trying to keep them from tearing into each other. "Would both of you knock it off?"

"Tell Vergil to knock it off," Dante growls.

"Stay out of my way," Vergil warns him. "If I catch you in my things one more time—"

"The things I pay for?"

"I work too."

You clear your throat. "Stop it. I mean it." You side-eye Dante with hands on your hips. "What were you doing?"

"Just lookin' for something. Such a damn baby—"

"Say it again, baby brother."

"Okay!" You cry. "Dante, leave Vergil's shit alone. Vergil, stop being so damn possessive. There."

You hope it is over as you move to go back to your desk, but you hear Dante make a snort. "Right. He's possessive over shit that's not his."

You freeze at the desk, the hair on the back of your head rising as you can tell they are gearing up for another argument. "What was that?" you bite over your shoulder.

Your eyes land on him sharply and Dante gives a shrug that annoys you to no end. "I'm saying he thinks everything is his. The jobs, the weapons, even you."

"What?" You frown in surprise, but they are arguing again, and you put up a hand to get their attention. "I'm sorry, who belongs to who?"

"Ol' Verge here thinks he owns you." Dante grins, but it lacks its usual humor. "So, I told him to keep his fuckin' hands off shit that doesn't belong to him, he said that I was the one who needed to keep my grimy paws to myself. What do you think, darlin’? You belong to him?"

"I belong to myself," you say sharply.

His brows flick up in surprise even as Vergil utters a wry laugh. "You say she isn't mine, she says she isn't yours. I suppose that means she could belong to me, does it not?"

"Hell no! She’s my woman, not yours."

"Like Yamato?"

"I haven't touched that thing since you came back, jackass."

"How about this?" you snap at both of them. "I don't belong to either of you. You—" here you point at Vergil with a warning look, "—work for me, and that's it. And you—" Your gaze at Dante is even sharper, "—I'm still pissed at. So both of you can forget whatever this whole argument is." You fold your arms, silently fuming.

The brothers glance at each other, both wearing expressions that are a weird, smug sort of anger. But then Dante walks towards you, and you slide back to sit on the desk and cross your legs, wanting to keep him at a distance. "Don't come over here like we're friends," you say.

But your tone isn't harsh, and they both know it. You both know the smile he gives you is going to needle its way under your skin, and he knows just how to stand, one palm on the desk next to your thigh and the other on his cocked hip, looking up at you with a sexy smirk that is accentuated by the day's worth of stubble on his face. Fuck him and his stupid handsome face. "Come on, babe," he murmurs, giving you a wink. "We both know we're getting back together. You don't have to play it like that when you already have my attention."

Ordinarily you would dig your heels in more, and the first words that rise to your tongue are you wish . . . and then he licks his lips, and you seem to feel the weeks and months without him all at once.

"You don't have to answer that."

Your attention is pulled towards Vergil, who is standing with arms folded. His gaze on you is so intense you actually gasp, and he starts to move closer, almost prowling. "Leave her alone, Dante," Vergil says darkly.

"Get yer own woman," Dante replies, his eyes still on your face. You had almost forgotten how mesmerizing he can be, those icy blues like a physical weight that pins you in place and demands your attention so that you don't notice a hand closing around your wrist until you are pulled to the side.

Vergil's lips caress the back of your hand as he scowls at his brother. "I'm quite fond of this one."

"Is that right?" Dante catches your knee and leans over you, crowding you half against the desk and half against Vergil, and you glance between the two of them in utter confusion. "Tough shit. You can't have her."

It nearly makes you laugh, the age old tug-of-war you had gone through with Nero manifesting now with these two, but the air around them feels thick and heavy, and a thick coat of sweat dampens the back of your neck. Vergil pulls you farther backwards, ignoring your "hey!" as he tries to get you out of Dante's reach. "She'd be better off with me, and you know it."

"Stop that," you say.

You step back again, the backs of your thighs hitting the desk. The air is crackling now, and your heart responds with an uptick in speed, your mouth going dry as you try to swallow. It's as if the room is filling with tension, and you laugh nervously. "You two fight over everything. What did you do when you were kids?"

"What?" Dante looks away from his brother to frown at you. "What do you mean?"

"When you had a toy or something you fought over," you explain. "What did you do to resolve it?"

They exchange a glance, and you can see something pass between them. "We had to share," Dante replies.

You laugh again. "Too bad you can't share me then."

You grin at Dante, but they are staring at you with a look you’ve never seen. Your eyes go wide and you glance at Vergil, whose usual stoic expression seems to have intensified. "Guys, I was kidding . . ." Weren't you?

"So you get to decide," Vergil proposes. "But we both have to prove why we deserve you."

You blink in confusion, but as you stare at Vergil, you feel a hand slide along your arm and Dante's lips press to your temple, making your breath catch. "What do you say, babe?"

"Uh . . ." Fuck yes. "Isn't this set up to fail? I mean, toys, sure, but whoever I don't pick is gonna . . . You know?"

Vergil steps forward, one of his hands pressing firmly against the small of your back while the other smooths over your cheek. "As children, whoever was proven to use what we both wanted most was given possession of it by our mother. We've learned not to hold a grudge."

Right, like the grudge that brought all of this about, Vergil's desire to best Dante causing not one but two tragedies. You look away, but that puts your face right in front of Dante's, and he wastes no time in kissing you, ignoring Vergil's disapproving tsk as he sucks on your lips before prying them open with his tongue. "Really, Dante," Vergil sighs, "didn't you ever learn to treat a woman with respect?"

You laugh against his mouth, part in nervousness and part at Vergil's statement. Dante has always been like this, aggressive and sexy, even silly and sloppy in the way he kisses you, but it is always so sincere that you never minded. As if to drive the point home, Dante pulls your tongue into his mouth and sucks on it slowly, your faces tilted as he takes his time. The shameless display must look ridiculous, but you have to admit the way his teeth scrape and the slight pain from the tug has your pulse racing. He lets you go with a smack of his lips and grins, and you smile back instinctively.

Then a hand is in your hair and your head is turned before Vergil's lips press against yours. Vergil's kiss could not be more different: hard, demanding, precise. The way he tugs your lips and slides his tongue in long strokes in and out of your mouth seem almost practiced, but it works. You are groaning in no time and leaning into him, trying to take more. It's as if he read a manual on how to turn you on and can hit everything you like in a kiss. By the time he releases you, your body feels weak and there is definitely a dampness between your legs that has you flushed.

You barely have time to gather thoughts before Dante scoops you up and strides towards the stairs, smothering your protest with another kiss. It seems like it's going to be a theme for the night; the two of them, fighting over which one of them deserves you more, and you caught in the middle. Not that you really mind.

Halfway up, he pauses to call over his shoulder, "Hurry up, Vergil, or I'm lockin' you out of the bedroom!"

There's a rush of air as Vergil appears on the landing, his eyes narrowed as his lips curl into a smile that sets your heart racing. "Always the fool," he proclaims.

You huff and wriggle until Dante sets you down. If they keep carrying on like this, nothing is going to happen, and you make sure your hips sway and your body brushes Vergil's as you finish the climb on your own. "You've both got sixty seconds before I decide to go to bed," you say breezily.

One of them grabs your backside, and when you see Vergil stride ahead and push the bedroom door open, you smack Dante on the arm. He grins at you playfully but you grab his shirt and tug him close so you can whisper. "You sure about this?"

"Oh fuck yes." His hands go to your hips and tug you against him, and as Dante grinds you can feel his erection already straining under his jeans. He presses a kiss to your jawline and then his lips go to your ear and whispers, "I want to watch you get fucking filled."

You swallow and let him pull you to the bedroom. Vergil has already removed his shoes and his shirt, and you gape for a second as he opens his belt. He is just as gorgeous as Dante, his body carved, but leaner: where Dante is all strength and muscle, Vergil is a fighter, his body meant for movement. He catches you watching and gives a crooked grin before pushing off his pants; now just in his boxers, Vergil crosses the room towards you. He is as tall as Dante, forcing you to look up at him, and Vergil brushes your hair back over your shoulder. "Let's get you comfortable, hm?" he says quietly, and his fingertips slowly glide down your front and graze your breasts over your shirt.

You hold your breath as he works through the buttons of your blouse, slowly unhooking each one and parting the fabric before moving on to the next, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. It's a different sort of anticipation than what you tend to feel; with Dante, it's hot and quick, leaving you impatient and eager. But with Vergil, it builds slowly, crawling up your spine and squeezing your ribs around your lungs. Each slight touch feels like a promise and a threat all in one, leaving you trembling as you wait to see what he'll do next. When he reaches the last button, you slide the shirt from your shoulders without asking, and his lips tilt at the sight of your bare chest. "No bra?" he murmurs.

You blink, and it's Dante who replies, "She doesn't wear 'em at home," as he comes up behind you, his bare chest scorching against your back. You gasp when he cups your breasts, his lips grazing your neck, and Vergil's hands land on your hips as he kisses you again while Dante teases and plucks your nipples into stiff buds. "Feels like we might need some ground rules?" Vergil hums inquisitively, though he doesn't draw away from your lips, and Dante chuckles lowly. "This one won't say no to anything. We gotta do it for her."

You sink against his touch as Vergil kisses you deeper, his tongue rolling around yours and leaving you breathless when he pulls away. "Well?" he asks with an arch of his brow.

"What?" Your heart is hammering in your chest as Vergil slides his hands into the waistband of your leggings. Dante's mouth nips the side of your neck, making you yelp, and your lips open as you watch Vergil sink to his knees and drag the fabric down your legs. Vergil's mouth presses to your navel as he pulls your clothes away, leaving you bare, his hands sliding back up the sides of your legs as he leaves a trail of kisses down your stomach.

"Babe," Dante says against your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your nipples. "What do you want?"

"I . . ." You are squirming now, arousal dripping onto your thighs, and as Vergil's mouth works over the top of your mound your body gets even wetter. "Anything. Everything," you whisper.

Vergil looks up from your sex and your eyes connect. "Just say when to stop," he says.

You nod. Vergil opens one of your thighs, pressing his face to your center, and when you feel his tongue press against your hood you groan and lean your head back. Dante's mouth is on your cheek and you turn to meet his lips, and he kisses you slowly as Vergil's tongue finds your clit. They both hold you upright, your senses going a bit overloaded at the sensations. Dante releases your nipples to run his palms up and down your front, massaging your chest as he kisses you. Vergil presses against a particularly good spot and a moan catches in your throat, but Dante smiles against your lips and murmurs, "It's okay, let him hear how much you like this."

You reach down to tangle your fingers in Vergil's hair, surprised to find the strands silky and soft instead of tacky with gel or spray, and he lifts you easily, letting Dante support the weight of your torso as he drapes your legs over his broad shoulders. Like this, he can reach more of your sex, and you cry out when he kisses your body deeply, thrusting his tongue within your opening before swirling it over your clit. Dante holds you easily, fluid smearing along your back as he grinds against you leisurely; between the two of them, you are spinning, and it isn't long before you’re rocking into Vergil's mouth, chasing the pleasure tightening within your core.

"She's gonna come fast, Verge," Dante pants against your neck, and like magic, you arch against him as your orgasm breaks. Your hand yanks his eager mouth against your clit as the other reaches up to grip Dante, and you feel almost weightless as he licks you through the contractions, his tongue rough and electric on your body. A cry erupts as it crests, and Vergil gives your clit a final, gentle suckle before lapping you gently as it finally begins to finish.

You are deposited on the bed, and one of them—Vergil, you realize after a moment—climbs over you to kiss your lips. You can taste your own arousal on him and you eagerly respond, sucking on his tongue and lips, the taste of him and sex driving you wild. How was he so good at that? The thought flickers briefly before he pulls away, and you pant as you look at the ceiling, the weight of what you had just done settling on you as the mattress dips.

You’re not worried about Dante being pissed. He'd been just as eager for this as Vergil, by his own admission, and if he tries to say something about it later, you’ll be more than happy to remind him of his comment about seeing you fucking filled. It's not even guilt, really. But there is something a bit strange about having your maybe-if-he-wasn’t-such-a-jerk lover's brother give you the best oral of your life while said lover watches, and you’re trying to process that when another mouth covers your sex, the heated insistence of it letting you know right away that it's Dante.

Your back bends as you reach down to grab his hair. But hands catch your wrists, and you look up with surprise as Vergil carefully winds a strip of black fabric around them. He catches you watching and gives you a little grin. "You should pay attention," he murmurs, and you open your mouth to ask him what he means just as Dante parts your thighs and sheathes his cock within you with one fluid thrust.

You groan, long and loud. Dante's hands are heavy and familiar on your thighs as he massages your flesh, and then he starts to move slow and deep, your sensitive body sparking to life with his movements. Meanwhile Vergil leans over you and kisses your breasts, using that mouth that just gave you such an amazing orgasm on your nipples, teasing and driving you crazy. You are helpless with your arms tied, but that seems to suit you just fine. Being between them is overwhelming, and you want to give yourself over to it and see where they can take you.

But his mouth is heaven while Dante's thrusts are sin, and the combination leaves you gasping for more. You turn your face and kiss Vergil's thigh, needing to do something, hearing one or the other or both laugh. Something like embarrassment flushes through you, but it's sweeter, twisting your lungs and making you stretch your body. Your only thought now is them, their eyes and hands and bodies on you, and you want to ruin them just as much as they will do to you.

"You just had to ask, princess," Vergil murmurs. His hand cards through your hair and then his cock presses to your lips. Eagerly you open, moaning as it fills your mouth, and Dante stops his movements to watch. "Oh fuck," he groans, his hands digging into your open thighs. "Fuck, swallow him, babe."

You do your best, pleasantly surprised by how similar his cock is to Dante's. Along with the angle, it makes taking him into your throat easier, and you suck as he pumps in and out of your mouth, holding your head steady with one hand as he fondles your breast with the other. But he tastes different; the only way you can think to describe it is cooler, less earthy than Dante, and you moan around his flesh. Dante finds your clit with his fingers as he begins to move again. Quite literally pinned by their bodies, you willingly surrender yourself to them, uncaring which of them does what as long as they don't stop.

"So good . . ." Vergil groans. Something in his voice makes you shiver, like he is losing that tight grip of control, and you lift your head slightly to take him deeper, sucking hard on his length as you hold it in your throat.

Dante curses again, his hips moving faster, and you can feel your body tightening. You gasp around the cock in your mouth but Vergil is thrusting just as hard, and before you realize it the thick fluid is filling your mouth and throat. You nearly choke on it before he quickly eases back, and with the taste of Vergil spilling over your tongue you start to orgasm again, a cry erupting as Dante's touch on your clit works you into another that is intense but all too brief.

You come down moments later to the sound of your bodies slapping together. Dante leans over you and covers your mouth with his, and you groan into his kiss as he grinds deep inside you. "So damn hot," he whispers, his hands sliding along your arms. He pushes your wrists into the bed and jerks his hips sharply before he lets out a groan and his seed starts to shoot inside your body, hot and slippery and filling you up.

It's barely over before you become aware of Vergil moving to stand impatiently next to the bed, and Dante huffs a laugh as he draws his body out of yours, leaving you gasping at the drag over your sensitive flesh. "Can't even give me a damn minute, huh?"

"You've had your turn," Vergil argues.

Dante snorts. Each of them grab you, moving you as they move until you’re on your knees with your ass in the air and your face pressed to Dante's thigh. Vergil tsks as he settles between your trembling legs, and Dante cards a hand through your hair as he says, "What? I like it better this way."

Your wrists are still tied, and you run your fingers over his leg, looking up. "Untie me."

Dante's lip rolls up as he grins, pulling the tie off and tossing it. You press on your palms to go upright, your lips grazing Dante's chest. "You want to stop?" he murmurs.

Your eyes flicker up to his. "No," you say. Then you turn to look over at Vergil, who is watching intently, his palm rubbing his growing erection. "Touch me first."

The corner of his mouth quirks and Vergil reaches between your legs with his free hand. His fingertips stroke your opening softly and you sigh, tilting your head back. Dante strokes your cheek sweetly, and when he runs his thumb along your lip you catch it playfully between your teeth. "I can't wait to feel your mouth," he says.

"Stroke your cock and get it hard," you order, your words breathless as Vergil slides a finger along your clit.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he obeys. His knuckles bump your stomach with every pump of his fist, and his tongue slides out to wet his bottom lip. You watch his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, and then he cups the back of your head and guides you down so your lips rub over the tip of his cock; eagerly, you part your lips, and as you sink down on him, Vergil sinks into you, and the sound of both of their groans mingling in the air is one of the most erotic you’ve ever heard. Instead of thrusting to meet you, Dante simply moves your head, and the slow, steady movements of Vergil's hips help you set a rhythm as you swallow his flesh.

You grip his thighs tightly as you bob your head up and down, swallowing the thick length as best as you can. He tastes like sex, pure and simple, and the sensation of being filled is different this time now that you control the movements. You start to rock your hips to meet Vergil's thrusts, and he presses one hand to your stomach and the other to your thigh, stretching you open to accommodate him. Vergil is long and thick and the precision he used to kiss you is still there as he fucks you slowly and methodically. Your orgasm builds just as slowly, tingling along your spine, and when his hand slides around your hip to your backside you shudder at his intimate touch. Meanwhile Dante strokes your hair, the movements intoxicating, pulling you under his spell as you suck him greedily. Usually he is playful, vocal and thrusting into your mouth, but now he lets you enjoy, his sexiness just as intense but different.

Your release this time crests in waves that rock you instead of pull you under, and you moan around Dante's cock as Vergil continues to fuck you with those steady, practiced movements. On and on it drags, fueled by the fullness of Dante in your mouth and the fullness of Vergil in your sex. "What do you think, hon?" Dante murmurs, sweeping your hair from your face. "Which of us fucks you better?"

You curse as you pull your mouth from his cock, sinking down to catch your breath and mouth at the base. "Fuck, fuck," you whisper as Vergil snaps his hips sharply against you.

You dig your nails into Dante's thighs, drawing a hiss, and he tugs your hair, pulling your face up to his. "Yes . . .” he groans.

Vergil's hands roam your backside, rubbing and massaging your flesh. "She's still coming," he pants.

"You serious?" You can't see whatever expression Vergil is making, but it draws a low whistle from Dante. "Damn. You been holdin' out on me, sweetheart?"

You do your best to give him an unimpressed look. It's ruined when a hand curls under your throat, and you yelp as Vergil pulls you up until his chest is flush to your back. "Hey!" Dante complains.

You shudder as Dante’s eyes drag down your body, stopping between your legs where Vergil's cock fills your sex. His eyes go lidded as he licks his lips, and you wonder what he is thinking. But then Vergil pulls out of you, and the slow drag of his cock leaves you breathless, gasping when you are suddenly empty. "Time to choose," he murmurs against your cheek, his hand caressing your throat lightly. "Whose cock do you want?"

"Both," you pant. You lock gazes with Dante for a moment before closing your eyes. "Please, both of you fuck me. Same time."

You don't even have to look to feel something pass between the two brothers. Fingers press against your clit—Dante's, you are pretty sure—and stroke you softly. "Will you come again if we do?"

"Yes," you plead. Vergil releases you so that Dante can grab you and draw you forward into his lap. His lips cover yours as he pulls you down onto his cock, his fingers stroking over your clit with the patterns you love, and you fall into the familiar, comforting weight of his touch. Hands press to your back, pushing you forward into an arch, and then Vergil is behind you, his cock pressing against the seam of your body.

Dante's mouth covers yours, and he swallows your groan as Vergil's thick cock enters your opening. Three orgasms have you weightless, almost boneless as you drape your arms around Dante's shoulders, clutching him at being so filled. Dante stays still, his cock inside you halfway, and Vergil pumps his hips gently to bury himself deeper. "She's so tight," he gasps, the cool veneer finally cracking in the way his voice shakes, and you consciously relax your muscles, trying to open yourself to them.

They find a rhythm where one withdraws as the other enters, a lovely back and forth that sends your body and mind into a tailspin. And they are everywhere, hands and mouths greedy on your body, not an inch of you untouched as they grab at your breasts and hips and shoulders and calves, tracing your spine and skimming along your neck and scraping your thighs. You’ll have marks everywhere tomorrow, you are sure, but it's like riding an ocean of bliss, and you start to drown in it, suffocating as the twins take over everything and begin to drive you towards another orgasm.

Dante finishes first this time, yanking your hips down to fill you completely as he comes. The seed pumps into you in gushes that make your body slick, and you can feel his cock pulsing as it continues. While Dante kisses you, Vergil continues pumping, his length stretching you and making you cry out when his hips go flush to your backside. With Dante still sheathed fully every time Vergil thrusts your body reacts with a shudder.

There is something inside you that starts to spark, and without warning your body snaps as you start to come again. This time it truly is devastating, your cries sounding foreign to your ears. Dante’s murmured praise and two sets of hands firmly holding you are not enough to steady the swell of emotion that sparks, and you let go a sob when Dante withdraws his cock. It drags over your clit and sets off another wave of pulsing bliss, and you are only dimly aware of Vergil’s mouth on your neck and the creamy heat that shoots inside you. Vergil leans forward as he grinds deeper as Dante grinds upwards against your sex, and you are trapped between their solid bodies, barely able to breathe.

Everything goes quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing. Vergil gently withdraws and you sag against Dante, whose hands hold you firmly against him. “Hey,” he says, and you press your face to his shoulder, aftershocks from your orgasm igniting and leaving you shivering. You can feel how flushed your body is, and when he tilts you back and you feel a cool cloth between your thighs, you sigh gratefully as you roll against the mattress, craving the softness after the two hard bodies that nearly tore you apart with pleasure.

You end up between them, their hands stroking you with gentle caresses that pull you towards sleep. Faintly you think about how sore you will be, but it will be worth it. A pair of lips meets yours each time you turn your head, and when their touches start to grow a bit more aggressive and sweep over your folds and your sore nipples, you groan internally. Dante was always an insatiable lover, and now it seems like you’ve woken a second beast.

“Sleep first,” you murmur as you push a hand away from your slit—Vergil’s, you’re pretty sure.

“Told ya,” Dante chuckles, and he gives your shoulder a kiss.

“You did not,” Vergil mutters.

You sigh as they argue quietly, and when the topic turns to who gets to give you your first orgasm tomorrow, you smile at what is to come as you drift off to sleep. It seems as if this argument isn’t resolved at all.

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dante sparda #vergil sparda #reader insert #dante x reader #vergil x reader #tension #fan fiction

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nanoland · 3 years

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Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

main characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael

pairings: Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

summary: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet.

warnings: Violence, gun violence, trauma, dehumanization, outdoor sex.

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Granted, Mazikeen was biased. Hell was her home and she liked it quite a lot. But surely even a human – even an angel – would sooner take a stint in one of Lucifer’s loops than spend more than thirty minutes in Terminal 3.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?”

She hadn’t been sure how this encounter would go and, being innately practical, had dressed accordingly. Black satin skirt, flattering and loose enough to both conceal several demon daggers (invisible to the full-body scanner she’d just sauntered through) and not impede her reaction time in a fight. Red silk wrap blouse, easily unwrapped to serve as a garrotte or tourniquet. Hair down, curled, dyed pitch black with bronze-gold streaks – possibly a tactical disadvantage if he grabbed it, but possibly a distraction. She knew he liked her hair.

When she was satisfied he wasn’t about to lunge for her throat, she took a gamble and moved in to lean against the wall alongside him, following his gaze. “Not surprising. Think of it from their perspective. They don’t have wings. Actually – huh. I guess that’s a perspective you can sympathise with now.”

He sneered. “You’re trying to bait me, Miss Mazikeen. That’s cute. But I’m not in the mood, dollface. This? This is me time. I’ve had a shitty few days and I came here specifically to soak up these idiot mortals’ fear and chill out. Get lost. Go play with my twin if you’re so starved for entertainment.”

Mazikeen stretched. “That’s the problem. He’s hanging out with the rest of your lousy family. Gabriel. Raziel. Jophiel. Now that he’s in charge, they’re all trying to crawl up his ass. It’s pathetic. And annoying.”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“Also,” she added, after a pause, “they don’t like me. Most of them have never met a demon. There’s no outright hostility but… they talk to me like I’m some gross exotic pet Lucifer found and adopted.”

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

“Nope. I’m wrong about some things. Never about fear. They can tell how much you matter to him, how much he’d do for you and vis versa, and it scares them shitless. Chloe Decker they can understand – she was Dad’s gift, after all. You, though? Lucy was never supposed to love you. No one was.”

She fiddled with her earring; big, gold, shaped like a swallow with rubies dotting its tail feathers. A gift from Eve. “Whatever. Anyway, that’s why I’m here. With you. Instead of them. You’re the worst, most obnoxious, most cowardly creep ever. I mean it. Christ, do you suck. But you always talked to me like I was a person. Right from the beginning.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

“Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”

She let the skin on her face’s left side melt away and grinned at him. “So? How about it?”

“Eh,” he said after taking one last glance around the terminal. “Fuck it. Why not? Nothing better to do.”

“Los Angeles is kinda like me,” Mazikeen told him, taking off her red-lensed cat-eye sunglasses as she strutted down the pier.

“Doesn’t have a soul?”

A withering glare. “Tough. Pretty on the outside, mean on the inside. It’s easy to make enemies around here and when you’ve made ‘em, you need to stay on your toes. Stay nimble. Stay mobile. Ready to fight or flee at any moment.”

Michael nodded. “And that’s how you justify living on a tugboat.”

“Ahoy!” called Eve, standing on the deck in a polka dot bikini and pirate hat Mazikeen had presumably stolen for her off the set of some summer blockbuster or other being shot nearby, the salty breeze playing with her hair.

“It’s a yacht,” Mazikeen growled.

“No. That’s a yacht,” Michael replied, pointing to the gleaming white MCY 70 Skylounge docked nearby. “What you have is a glorified raft that can, at best, accommodate two people and maybe a toaster.”

He should, perhaps, be trying harder to ingratiate himself with his new boss.

But he was tired.

Getting in his face, she snapped, “Hey! That’s our headquarters, asshole. Show some respect.”

“It’s covered in seagull crap. It looks older than me. There’s a very obvious bloodstain on the helm. Jesus, doesn’t Lucifer pay you?”

She pushed him into the sea.

Offering him a hand when he bobbed to the surface, Eve said, “Don’t take it personally. She’s just mad because we weren’t able to steal a bigger one.”

It was while Michael was towelling himself dry down below decks that the chunky-faced cop wandered in, took one look at him, and strode across the room.

“Mister Espinoza,” he drawled, “what can I-… oh. Oh, wow, you really thought that was going to work, huh?”

Curled up on the floor, clutching the fist he’d very mistakenly slammed into Michael’s jaw, Dan hissed, “Fuck you. You killed me.”

“Poppycock. I had you killed. That’s entirely different, buddy.”

Dan staggered to his feet and shouted, “Maze! Eve! What the hell is he doing here?”

Taking off his wet jacket and draping it over the rack alongside the towel, Michael said, “I was invited, thank you very much. No one told me you were part of the arrangement.”

“What arrangement, asshole?” Dan snapped, turning red. “I’m just here to help Maze fix her boat’s engine.”

“Oh. You don’t work with her, then? No, I suppose you wouldn’t. As we’ve established, you’re entirely too killable.”

“You sleazy son-of-a… Maze! Get down here!”

Grumbling, Michael’s new boss stalked below deck carrying a crate of beer on her left shoulder and a sleeping bag under her right arm. “Goddammit – Dan, I told you to wait. Is your hand bleeding, you big meathead? We seriously just dragged your ass out of Hell and you couldn’t go two whole days before breaking yourself again? Ugh. You’re impossible. You’re worse than Decker.”

“Maze, d’you wanna explain what the actual fuck Lucifer’s psycho twin is doing here?”

“Interning,” Michael said, cheerfully.

His face now practically purple, Dan half-yelled, “What is he talking about? This is not okay, Maze! Does Chloe know? Does Amenadiel? Why is he even still on Earth? Lucifer’s God now; can’t he stick him on Mars or turn him into a bug or something?”

“Look, Dan, just calm down-…” she began.

“I died! I actually, literally, physically died! Because of him! No, I’m not going to calm down!”

Michael scoffed. “Please. Like that’s what you’re really upset about. You’re not angry about dying. You’re not angry at all. You’re scared, buttercup. And not just of me; of her, of Lucifer, of everything, and to be honest, I didn’t even need to use the ol’ angel juice to work that out.”

Mazikeen set down her cargo, pulled a knife from her belt, and flung it. It embedded itself five inches deep in the floor between them. “This? This is not Lux, dickheads. Mortals and celestials don’t hang out here to have a good time while I sit behind the bar and tolerate them. This crummy, crusty-ass, piece of crap boat is my domain. Here, I don’t have to put up with one femtometre of your bullshit. If you want to fight, do it somewhere else. If you want to fuck, do it quick and clean up afterwards. If you want to make yourselves useful, help me get the weapons on board.”

“Wait – wait, weapons? What weapons?” said Dan to her retreating back. “You said you were going fishing. Maze! What weapons?”

“Where’s all your stuff?” Eve asked when she showed him to his tiny cabin.

“I’m an archangel. I don’t have ‘stuff’.”

(Michael had already decided he didn’t like her. She was bubbly.)

“Heh. You should travel with Lucy sometime. We went to Vancouver for a weekend and he brought seven bags, five watches, and six pairs of shoes. Okay, do you – uh, do you at least have a change of clothes? Because those look kinda soggy.”

To his annoyance – and embarrassment – she spend twenty minutes hunting down a shirt and pants that would fit him.

“They’re mine,” she said, dropping them into his lap. “But I bought them to sleep in and I like loose pyjamas, so they’re a dozen sizes too big on me. Oh! Also found you this.”

She presented a hot water bottle in the shape of a fat, cuddly sheep.

He accepted it carefully, wondering if it was booby-trapped. “You’re Lucifer’s ex, right?”

“Er… yep? Amongst other things. The Original Sinner. First Woman, First Wife, First Mother. Mother of Mankind. Second Human. First Knowledgeable Human. But sure, I was also your brother’s girlfriend for a while.”

“And now you’re Mazikeen’s. Do you also work with her?”

“Sure do!” she said, interpreting the question as an invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m The Choronzon’s captain. That’s our boat’s name. My idea. I know she’s not much to look at but she’s got so much history. There’ve been fourteen homicides on her! Plus, she’s fast; way, way faster than she looks. And I know the beds are hard, but we’ve got three hammocks stashed away and getting them set up is easy as pie.”

“Wow. Those suckers up in the Silver City don’t know what they’re missing.”

She nodded, blinking slowly. “Hmm. Maze was right. You are mean. That’s cool. I get on well with mean people. Anyway, just in case she hasn’t told you; we’ve got a job lined up and we’ll be setting sail tomorrow at dawn. You get seasick? Not a problem; we’ve got a medical kit full of antiemetics. On that note, should we pick up something for you before we leave shore?”

“No.”

“You sure? Just that – uh – I mean, my third son, Seth, the one nobody talks about – he also had pretty severe scoliosis. Wasn’t a whole lot we could do about it back then. But these days they’ve got tons of stuff; opiods and anti-inflammatories and memory foam. Science is so, so cool. And I’m going shopping for sunscreen anyway, so dropping by the pharmacy wouldn’t be a problem.”

For a moment, he reviewed a list of responses that would deeply, profoundly hurt her, responses that would ensure she didn’t approach him again.

But he was tired, tired, tired.

“Here.”

He took a folded piece of A4 paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “These are what the last human doctor I went to recommended. Getting hold of those three I’ve circled is tricky, but I know a guy. Call him on that number down there and he’ll meet you wherever. If he gives you any trouble, remind him that Michael knows about the vacuum cleaner. That’ll shut him up.”

As soon as she’d bounced out of the room, he shut the door, locked it, and laid down to sleep.

It was night when he awoke.

He went upstairs to find Mazikeen and Eve sitting on the deck, admiring what stars could be seen through Los Angeles’ perpetual light pollution and sharing a pizza.

“Mickey! Get over here,” called Mazikeen, clad in a black dressing down and slippers shaped like plump pink pigs.

“It’s freezing,” he complained.

She snickered and threw him the prickly blanket that had been resting over her knees. “Wimp. Eve told you about the job, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how to use any weapons?” Eve asked. “Maze sticks with her knives most of the time. I prefer my traps and crossbow. But we’ve got guns, if that’s more your speed.”

They were clearly expecting him to sit down. Eve had even scooted to the left to make room.

He opened the blanket up and wrapped it around his shoulders, remaining standing. “Can I ask a question? What, precisely, is my role here?”

“For now, you’re a meat shield,” said Mazikeen, talking through a mouthful of pepperoni and violently yellow cheese. “Me and Eve are both vulnerable to bullets. I mean – I’m less vulnerable, obviously. But I don’t hate any of my relatives enough to go about finding out exactly how many bullets it takes to snuff a demon. So your job, at least tomorrow, is just to soak up enemy fire until we’ve got our hands on the target.”

Scowling, he said, “Getting shot does hurt, you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, eyes shining with spite. “Dan sure seemed to think so.”

When the tense silence had stretched for over thirty seconds, Eve clapped her hands, smiling anxiously, and said, “So! Anyone up for rummy?”

Along the California coastline, the cruise ship Illustrious Voyager bore four thousand three hundred and ten passengers, one thousand two hundred and ninety-six crewmembers, and two guide dogs.

Five thousand six hundred and eight souls, in total.

At around 4pm, without anyone noticing, that number became five thousand six hundred and nine.

Hands clasped behind her back, Eve strolled down the promenade, admiring the vessel’s size and beauty. This fresh new millennium’s wealth astonished her. Sickened, sometimes. Entranced, sometimes. But always astonished.

Back in the garden, they’d slept on and under rocks. When it rained, they got wet. When large animals came by, they hid. No weapons. No shelter. No blankets. The only resource they’d had in abundance was food. Good grief – so much food. God had been so proud of all the different fruits and nuts and mushrooms he’d made available to them, and Adam had been so grateful. Eve supposed she had been, too.

It hadn’t stopped her from one day approaching her husband and the plump rabbits resting in his lap – two of several dozen pets – and asking if he didn’t think the cold nights would be much more endurable if they each had a warm pair of fur slippers.

Then she’d met Lucifer. Fallen in love. Bitten the apple. Learned how powerful he and his Father truly were. That was when the real questions, the sticky, prickly questions, had come bubbling up.

If Lucifer has such a vast family, with so many siblings, why can’t I have even one? she’d asked the sky. Why is Adam all I get?

And later: If You can simply bring people into existence, why must I scream and bleed and shit myself in order to have children? Am I doing it wrong? Is there another way? If there isn’t, why not?

And later: Why is nothing fair?

And, most recently, after meeting Mazikeen: Why isn’t everything at least equally unfair? Why do humans get a world of options while Maze and her family are expected to serve angels from birth to death? Why isn’t Maze allowed into Heaven, even after an eternity of loyalty and hard work?

“Sorry,” she said, flashing white teeth at a passing crewmember. “I’m trying to find a friend of mine. Can you tell me how to get to Room 835?”

Half an hour later, there was a splash and the ship’s population dropped to five thousand six hundred and seven.

Before binding his arms and legs, Eve had secured Andrew Bismarck’s lifejacket and gagged him. Furious and helpless, he bobbed alongside her as the ship moved on and Mazikeen rowed up in her inflatable raft, wearing a sunset-orange swimsuit.

“Should I be worried about those, babe?” she asked as she gripped Bismarck’s lifejacket and hauled him out of the water.

Eve smiled at the dolphin pod swimming in playful loops around her, and patted the nearest one’s nose. “No. They’re my friends.”

The inflatable wasn’t big enough for three people, so Eve held on to a friend’s dorsal fin and let him drag her back to The Choronzon.

Michael stood on the deck, looking bored. As they climbed aboard, their prisoner slung over Mazikeen’s shoulder, he drawled, “Seriously? This sad specimen’s worth two million dollars?”

“Actually, his net worth is eight hundred million,” said Mazikeen, dumping him down. “Two million is just what his ex-wife is willing and able to pay.”

Wringing out her hair, Eve added, “She took half his money in the divorce but she gave almost all of it to a chimpanzee shelter. I really like her!”

His lip curled. “How delightfully sordid. Isn’t this all a little beneath you, Ms Mazikeen? I mean, you’re a big deal in Hell. High Commander of Lucifer’s legions, head advisor to the king himself. Aren’t you worried taking jobs like this diminishes you?”

Busy handcuffing Bismarck to the railing, Mazikeen said, “Eve, honey? Do me a favour?”

“Boop!” Eve chirped, having already snuck up behind Michael, and pushed him overboard.

“I know it’s your whole gimmick,” Mazikeen called down as he splashed and spluttered, his face red with princely indignation. “And I know you don’t have a lot else going for you. But the next time you try that on me, I will stop being nice. Kapish?”

“Kapish,” he muttered.

The Choronzon had barely travelled a mile before Eve spotted Bismarck’s henchmen coming after them.

“Someone gimme details!” shouted Mazikeen, busy putting a bulletproof vest on over her bikini and opening up the box she’d told Dan contained a fishing rod, not a halberd.

Eve peered through her binoculars. “Two speedboats. Twelve guys on jet skis. Guns everywhere.”

“Heh. Awesome. Mickey – move that tight ass to the front and make like a nice juicy target.”

“Wait, what about-…” Michael began, trailing off as Mazikeen dove gracefully into the sea.

Bouncing from foot to foot, Eve shot him a grin. “Don’t look so glum, sourpuss. This is the fun part.”

She’d never spoken to Michael in Heaven, despite the millennia they’d both resided only two miles apart, her in a lakeside cottage on the outskirts of the Silver City, him in the crystal palace in its centre.

Granted, she’d not exactly had a warm and fuzzy relationship with any of Lucifer’s siblings. They all knew what had happened in the garden. Some had been nice – Amenadiel had visited often, even though he’d never had much to say and they’d spent their time together skipping stones across the lake’s surface. But the others had kept her at a distance. She was a bad influence.

Michael, however, was the only angel she’d not ever said one word to.

She’d seen him, now and then, in the early days, when she was the only human in Heaven and, as such, grudgingly invited to divine family get-togethers. On those occasions, she’d spent too much time feeling awkward and out-of-place to pay attention to the sullen figure lurking in whatever shadows were available. The one time she’d glanced his way, it had been to marvel at the stories of people getting the twins mixed up; beyond the raw basics of bone structure, Michael couldn’t have looked less like her old lover.

Bullets sprayed across the hull. Humming, Eve stepped daintily into Michael’s shadow, seconds before they started bouncing off his shoulders and chest.

“It is beneath her,” he muttered.

She made an ambiguous noise. “How d’you figure?”

There came a shout and a splash from the nearest jet ski. The bullets stopped.

“C’mon. She’s Mazikeen. Everyone in the Silver City knows about Mazikeen. Ordinarily, we couldn’t give two dry shits about Lucifer’s minions, but her? She’s a minor celebrity. The power behind Hell’s throne. Christ, it’s no secret my beloved twin couldn’t govern his way out of a paper bag.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He’s kind of bad at everything. Except music. He’s a great musician.”

More shouting. More shooting. More bullets bouncing off Michael’s torso. Mazikeen rode by, one hand gripping her newly-acquired jet ski’s throttle lever, the other clutching her bloodstained halberd. Watching her circle the enemy, Eve was reminded of a sheep dog.

Michael went on: “And then there’s the fact that for a while, everyone thought Lucifer was going to marry her. It was all anyone could talk about. Jophiel was taking bets on when the proposal would happen. She’d have been High Commander and the Queen of Hell. Instead? All of a sudden, Lucifer takes an indefinite vacay to the mortal realm, drags her with him, and next thing anyone knows, she’s working behind a bar.”

The remaining jet skis and their terrified, wounded riders had been neatly rounded up, which meant it was time for Eve to open her purse.

“Um – how long have those been in there?” asked Michael, watching her take out three grenades.

“You want one?” she offered. “Don’t forget to take the pin out before you throw it. I did that my first time.”

One thing to be said for millions of dull, dull years spent sitting next to God’s Greatest Warrior, skipping stones across a lake; your aim got good.

The first blast was a warning, not close enough to actually kill any of Bismarck’s men, though the resultant waves did knock several into the water. They tried to retreat, turning their vehicles around, only to remember Mazikeen, corralling them single-handed and now armed with machine guns she’d confiscated from those already bested.

When they saw the second and third grenade incoming, they gave up and abandoned the jet skis, jumping into the sea and swimming for their lives.

“Fuck!” Michael yelped, blocking his ears at the concomitant explosions.

Gazing past the debris and smoke, Eve saw Mazikeen head for the nearest of the two speedboats. Its occupants, preoccupied with aiming a rocket launcher at The Choronzon, saw her coming far too late.

“I get your point,” said Eve, as her girlfriend and her halberd made short work of the crew. “But that’s a really… how can I put this? It’s a really angelic way of looking at things. Maze doesn’t consider anything ‘beneath her’.”

“Wow. Sick burn. You’re basically admitting she has no pride.”

“Oh, she’s got pride. Tons of pride. Her pride’s just dependant on how well she does a job, not on the type of job she has. She wasn’t happy working at Lux, but that wasn’t because she thought bartending was ‘beneath her’; it was because she prefers doing things she’s good at. Customer service isn’t really one of her strengths.”

The second speedboat was abandoned by its crew mere seconds before Mazikeen rammed the first speedboat into it, cackling victoriously.

“Actually,” Eve said, moving from Michael’s shadow to where Mazikeen had earlier set a crate of peach soda – her favourite – out on the deck, “now that you mention it, I guess I’m the one with no pride. Haven’t really ever had anything to be proud of. Your Dad never gave me the chance. I was never meant to do things. I was just meant to be.”

Michael snorted. “Lucky you. Trust me; he may have softened in his later years, but back in the day he never, ever stopped riding our asses. You think Lucy really rebelled because he had better plans for how the universe should be run? Because he was an innovator? Nope. Lazy dick just hated being told to do his chores.”

By the time Mazikeen swam back to them, saltwater had washed off the blood and her ponytail had come loose.

“Oh, hey,” said Eve, gripping her hand and pulling her up. “A mermaid.”

After pressing a rough kiss to her cheek and taking a swig of peach soda, Mazikeen asked, “You okay? He did his job?”

Eve patted the angel’s shoulder – the one that wouldn’t hurt. “He was terrific! Awesome addition to the team.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Michael mumbled.

Ignoring him, Mazikeen snatched up a towel to dry her hair. “Glad to hear it. Alright! Let’s get Bismarck back to shore, get paid, and find a place to have dinner so we can toast Team Hellrazor’s first successful mission.”

“R-A-Z-O-R,” Eve informed Michael. “To make it cooler.”

Bombshell curls. The only way to celebrate victory.

“Should I even ask why your hair smells like burning plastic?” asked Britney, a sixty-four year old veteran stylist with spectacles and a bright blue bob. She’d worked in Hollywood since she was seventeen and her skilled hands, according to rumour, had tended to Viola Davis herself.

Mazikeen flipped through a magazine with the hand that wasn’t getting its nails painted red-gold by two assistants down on their knees, as intensely focused as if they were touching up The Last Supper. “Blew up some jet skis. Don’t worry about it.”

Picking up the curling iron, Britney said, “That handsome guy you and Eve came in with… new boyfriend?”

“Ha! No. Not in a million years. He’s my intern.”

Eve had only wanted a trim and, as soon as it was done, had dragged Michael away to shop for books and shoes. She was trying, without much subtlety, to work out what he liked; what he did for fun; if he was even capable of having fun. Waste of time, in Mazikeen’s opinion, especially considering that before the end of the week he’d probably run away to some dark hole where he could get back to wallowing in his bitterness. But maybe not. Eve clearly had hope and Mazikeen trusted her judgement.

As the assistants moved on to her other hand, her phone buzzed.

Glancing up to meet Britney’s gaze in the mirror, Mazikeen said, “Get that for me? My nails are wet and it’s probably Eve. Word’s got out what happens to all other humans who call me on a Saturday.”

The older woman’s blue eyebrows bounced as she picked up the phone. “Might be that tasty boss of yours!”

“Nope,” she muttered, old unhappiness flaring hot in her heart. “He only ever calls when he wants me to do something and right now, there’s nothing he can’t do himself.”

Britney held the phone up in front of her face.

There was a message from Linda.

Charlie’s missing his Auntie Maze – see u for dinner Tuesday? J <3

“Uh – are you crying?” asked Britney.

“No!” she snapped. “Just… shut up. Reply for me. Say yes. And add a knife emoji. I always use knife emojis.”

Just then, a white woman with long brown hair and skinny jeans strode purposefully into the salon.

Britney tutted and held up a hand. “Ma’am? I’m sorry, but Ms Smith has booked the entire…”

She trailed off as the woman’s eyes flashed red.

“Chantinelle,” Mazikeen greeted, spinning the chair round and crossing her legs regally. “It’s okay, Britney. She’s a friend. Well – an ally.”

Gravel-voiced, like she smoked heavily, the other demon drawled, “I’m touched, your great and gracious Majesty.”

Mazikeen snickered. “Bitch, get over here.”

With a smirk, Chantinelle marched over and planted a fierce kiss on her cheek.

“What news from Hell?” Mazikeen asked her sister.

Chantinelle briefed her while Britney and the others finished up her curls and manicure. They spoke in Lilim, Chantinelle parking her denim-clad butt on the vanity next to an arsenal of combs and keeping one eye on the door. She’d already tried twice to convince Mazikeen that a queen needed a bodyguard, to no avail.

When their meeting was concluded, Britney said, “So you’re from Holland, right? Oh! It’s a lovely country. My cousin lives there and she’s always telling me to visit.”

(Britney knew they weren’t from Holland. Britney knew they weren’t from Earth. Britney was one of those people who coped with uncomfortable realities like demons in her workplace by ignoring them.)

“Will you be coming home soon?” Chantinelle asked before she left.

Studying her reflection – avoiding her sister’s gaze – Mazikeen said, “Mmm. Yeah. Soon. Just got a few things to finish up here.”

“Well, don’t keep us waiting too long. The family misses you. I mean – it’s been years, y’know?”

“I know. I do.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Britney commented after Chantinelle had gone. “How come you never talk about them?”

Mazikeen handed over a wad of blood-spattered cash. “Eh. After a while, I figured out that nobody likes it when I do.”

She began making her way across the mall to Eve’s favourite shoe shop, then stopped when she approached the arcade and heard her girlfriend’s laugh over the beeps and buzzes of various games.

Unsurprised, she wandered in and found her on the Dance Dance Revolution platform, barefoot and skirt twirling as she beat the shit out of someone’s high score, surrounded by a crowd of cheering, applauding onlookers.

Michael stood off to the side, clutching three bulging shopping bags and looking mortified.

“I couldn’t stop her,” he hissed to Mazikeen. “What the hell? What the actual hell? I thought you were trying to maintain a reputation on this crummy rock! What’re your enemies going to think if this is how your allies behave in public?”

“I figure they’ll think something like, ‘Oh my God, she’s tapping that? I am going to literally die of jealousy’,” Mazikeen said, kicking off her stilettos and handing them to him. “Go fetch us some bottled water, wimp. We’ll be here for a while.”

Eve’s competitor on the adjacent platform yelped as Mazikeen shoved him off and took his place.

“Hi, pretty lady,” said Eve, her eyes sparkling. “You know I’ve been dancing for millions of years, right?”

Mazikeen grinned at her and tossed back her bombshell curls. “Bring it, beautiful.”

Out the corner of her eye, she saw Michael blush bright red.

What was he doing here?

“We are fifteen miles over the speed limit!”

Mazikeen cackled and drove faster. In the seat beside her, Eve punched the air and turned up the radio until Michael thought Rihanna’s voice would burst even his divine eardrums. (Contrary to his brother’s accusations, he did, in fact, enjoy some types of music. Just not when it was loud or fast-paced.)

“May I remind you of a crucial fact?” he demanded, having to shout to be heard. “It’s not me who’ll die if this thing flips! Angel, remember? You two are the ones who’ll be splattered all over the road! Hello? Is anybody listening to me?”

“I’m a fine-tuned supersonic speed machine,” Mazikeen sang.

The desert outside the cherry-red convertible they’d stolen in Las Vegas was a sickening blur and he hated it. Not that he’d never travelled this fast – though he was slower than just about all his siblings in the air, he could still outpace a jet. But flying under his own power couldn’t be compared to being trapped in this hideous human death trap under the command of a demon and a madwoman.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, this time to himself, gripping his seatbelt with both hands like it was the neck of an angry serpent. “Whatever happens. Even if we crash. They’ll die. I’ll be fine.”

“Hey!” called Eve, turning to look at him, squinting. “Are you really not having fun? Maze! Slow down! He’s not having fun.”

Mazikeen groaned but brought them back to a less terrifying percentage of light speed, while Eve undid her seatbelt and climbed into the back with Michael.

He sputtered. “Jesus H. Christ – you’re not supposed to do that while the vehicle is moving. Rules exist for a reason, goddammit.”

“I’m sorry we freaked you out,” Eve told him, with… confusing sincerity.

None of his siblings had ever apologised for frightening him, Lucifer least of all (“Aww – don’t be so nervous, brother!” and a golden laugh from the brave, adventurous Morningstar after he’d enticed Michael to fly with him into a hurricane for fun and the noise and sight of it had made his twin cry).

When Michael was young, he’d assumed that was because apologies were for lesser beings, like mortals – except that when he’d discovered his latent talent for underhanded pranks, his siblings had all turned around and demanded apologies from him. The pranks had become progressively mean-spirited after that.

Waiting for the other shoe to drop – for the punchline – he said, carefully, “It’s fine.”

The wind had blown Eve’s hair all over the place. As she brushed it out of her eyes, he was reminded that today she’d chosen to wear one of her thin white summer dresses, this one low-cut enough to make it clear that that was all she was wearing.

Now mischievous, she winked at him. “But you know… if I made a habit of following those rules you like so much, I’d still be married and bored out of my mind. Wanna kiss?”

He nearly jumped out of the car.

“Uh,” he croaked.

His gaze flickered past Eve’s inquisitive face to the back of Mazikeen’s head. How long did he have? How many milliseconds left before she turned around and tore out his throat in a fit of frenzied jealousy?

“Hell, yeah!” Mazikeen cheered, throwing up the horns. “One of you take a picture for me. Or, better yet, move over so I can see you in the rear view mirror.”

Eve’s chin tilted downwards as she examined Michael. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like he’s into it. Er – yikes. Actually, I think he’s gonna throw up. Might wanna pull over, babe.”

“I’m not going to throw up! I just need… just need air. Could you sit back for a moment?” he hissed.

She did so and he got his breathing under control. Crap, his shoulder hurt so much today.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, fidgeting. “I didn’t mean to-…”

“Is this because of him?” Michael snarled, suddenly furious.

“What?”

“Him! Lucifer! He dumped you, yeah? And now you’re – what, trying to get back at him by hitting on me? Or is it just because I look like him so I’m the best substitute you can get, or-…”

She slapped him.

It hurt.

(It really did. What? Since when did getting hit by mortals hurt?)

Mazikeen whistled approvingly.

“No,” said Eve, half-growling. “I’m not like that. I don’t use people like that, Michael.”

He touched the part of his face where her skin had met his. It felt hot. Tingly. He swallowed. “Um – right. Got it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

The anger in her eyes subsided. “Good. Now, would you like to kiss me or not? It’s fine if you don’t want to. You’ll still be part of the team. This is just for fun.”

Feeling oafish and off-kilter, he gestured at Mazikeen. “Won’t she mind?”

“Nope!” Mazikeen volunteered without hesitation.

Eve, exasperated, huffed, “I already asked her if she’d mind. Do you really think I’d put the offer on the table if I hadn’t? Whatever they say about me in the Silver City, I’m neither frivolous nor disloyal. I didn’t go behind Adam’s back when I fell in love with your brother; I told him to his face what I was doing.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

“Because he didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t care. Adam was a decent man who didn’t love me at all. But Maze does, and I love her, and we’ve decided this is something we’re both okay with.”

“Yeah, most demons are poly,” Mazikeen told him. “As long as everyone’s on board and on the same page, you can hook up with whoever you like.”

“Last chance: kiss or no kiss?” said Eve.

She was close enough now for him to smell her perfume. His chest felt tight. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

“Okay. How about wagers? I bet you anything I’m the best kisser you’ve ever met. Or requests? Please, please kiss me, Michael. Or-…”

She was so warm. Her breath flowing into his mouth felt like drinking hot chocolate on a Winter’s night, sugary heat poured down his throat and filling up his whole chest.

His bones seemed to melt. He slid down the seat, half-pushed, until he lay almost flat with her on top of him, cradling his face in her hands, her thumbs making slow, comforting circles on his jaw.

“Ghnnff-fu-fuck,” he slurred.

That he was hard, and had been hard ever since he’d noticed how low-cut her dress was, seemed almost irrelevant in the face of far more interesting observations, like the soft grunts she made or the way her breasts felt pressed tight against him, until she slid a thigh between his legs.

He cried out. Arched.

“There you go,” she purred against his neck.

Elegant and effortless, she took off her shoes and her panties, and slid down onto his cock with a soft, fluttering sigh. Grabbed his hand and raised it to cover one of her nipples.

Just before he came, he opened his eyes and gazed up, and the sun had moved behind her, draining all but her edges of definition, and the wind had picked up her hair again and sent it billowing up and out, like dark wings. Like his wings.

“Michael! Ah!”

The car stopped.

“Huh,” said Mazikeen. “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

She pointed. Panting, they both followed her finger.

Across the sky, from one horizon to the next, the clouds had arranged themselves into the words

I LOVE YOU DETECTIVE !!!!

-LM

“Oh, crud,” said Eve.

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

TO BE CONTINUED

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #michael #michael demiurgos #amenadiel #dan espinoza #linda martin #fanfic #my fic

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gennarenee · 4 years

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My Devil May Cry Game Ratings

Alright so I finally finished playing all the Devil May Cry games (barring DMC2 and DmC), so I wanted to write out my thoughts and reviews of the games in order of my favorite to least favorite. I played the games in the order of 5, 4, 3, then 1.

#1: Devil May Cry 5

DMC5 was my introduction to the series. I first watched a whole play-through of the game as background while I was working on a research project, but it looked so fun that I bought it on the steam summer sale and I loved it as much as I thought I would. The combat is intricate and fun, and I’m still discovering new tricks and play-styles (I think I’m on my third play-through of the game??). I love V’s character, but on my first play-through I didn’t know the story of the DMC universe, so I was disappointed when he turned back into Vergil. Now that I’ve played through all the games though, I love the story even more and I understand now how V is an important step in Vergil coming to terms with his humanity (also I love Vergil too now). Having played the other games too I can now see all the references this game makes to the previous games as well which is really cool.

Overall 10/10 this is my new favorite game and has beat out Bayonetta as being my favorite game of all time.

#2: Devil May Cry 4

As previously stated, I’m a huge Bayonetta fan, so you can imagine my excitement at all the parallels between this game and Bayonetta (aesethically, story-wise, etc.). However, DMC4 is definitely not a finished game, so I’m actually glad that Bayonetta basically stole the concepts of DMC4 and made them better.

The start of this game is my favorite out of all the DMC games. I love the scene of Kyrie’s performance in the church while Nero battles demons in the street, and I think this does a really good job of setting the scene for the game. Fortuna is aesthetically beautiful, and the game’s music is fantastic (I’ve had “Out of Darkness”, “The Idol of Time and Space”, and “Shall Never Surrender” on repeat for the past few weeks). Having finished DMC1, I can see now too that Fortuna, Fortuna castle, and the enemies take a lot of inspiration from Mallet Island in DMC1.

Combat wise, I loved playing as both Nero and Dante. After playing DMC5, Nero’s combat felt a bit lacking, but nevertheless I had fun smacking demons around with the buster arm. I adored playing as Dante, and I enjoyed his combat style more than Nero’s. HOWEVER, this brings me to the game’s biggest flaw: while Dante is super fun to play as, his levels are absolutely awful. Instead of creating a new area for Dante to explore while trying to save Nero, the entire 2nd half of the game is spent backtracking through all of the Nero levels. Like seriously Capcom?? I was aware of the backtracking before playing this game but having basically half of the game backtrack through the first half is ridiculous. The areas themselves also felt disconnected. Fortuna, Fortuna Castle, and the jungle all were interesting areas on their own, but it doesn’t make sense going basically from Italy, to a frozen mountaintop, to a jungle, all on a single island.

All in all though, I’d give this game a 7.5/10. While repeated sections were annoying, the combat was fun and I love the aesthetic of the game and its soundtrack. Also Nero and Kyrie’s relationship is adorable.

#3: Devil May Cry 1

This might come as a surprise, but I enjoyed DMC1 more than DMC3 (but I’ll get to this more in the next section).

First, I’m glad I played all the DMC games in reverse order. When I first picked up DMC1 after completing DMC5, I was shocked with how awful the camera system and general gameplay was, so I put down DMC1 to replay DMC5. However, when I came back to DMC1 after playing all the other games, I had become adjusted to the lack of features in each game, so I no longer felt as annoyed with the camera and gameplay. In fact, I enjoyed the gameplay a lot more than I thought I would. I imagined that the game wouldn’t live up to today’s gaming standards, but I was pleasantly surprised with how much I enjoyed the combat. I missed having access to the different playstyles of future games, but this Dante’s gameplay almost felt like a mix between trickster and gunslinger, so his combat style was not as empty as I thought it would be.

Much like DMC4, I also really enjoyed the aesthetic of this game. Having played DMC4 before DMC1, I almost had “reverse nostalgia” for the scarecrow enemies and the castle aesthetic. I also really liked the level designs. While the levels in DMC4 felt disconnected, I could see the areas (castle, canyon, coliseum, pirate ship, etc.) all existing on one island together. In terms of bosses, I wish that there had not been repeat fights. While I loved seeing V’s familiars having a role in this game (again, “reverse nostalgia”), I could’ve done with a couple less Nightmare and Nelo Angelo fights.

In the end, my biggest complaint about this game is that it’s too short. I started this game at 5pm yesterday, and I’ve completed it in under 5 hours. While the game is short, it felt like there was almost no plot until the very end of the game when you fight Nelo Angelo Vergil. I wish they would’ve expanded upon the story and included more information on Sparda and Eva and Dante and Vergil’s childhoods, but I understand that this game was the first in the series and made in 2001.

Overall, I’ll give the game a 7/10. While I can’t imagine myself replaying this game (especially since there’s no other playable characters besides Dante), I had an overall pleasant time playing this game.

#4: Devil May Cry 3

First, while DMC3 is the last game on this list, I want to clarify that I enjoyed all 4 games, and this game is almost tied with DMC1. However, there are just some choices in the game that made this game a less enjoyable experience for me.

Combat wise, while it took me some time to adjust to only having one style at once, DMC3 has my favorite weapon set out of all the games. I loved played with Cerberus in DMC5, so I was excited to have the opportunity to use this weapon again in DMC3, and the same goes for Beowulf and Kalina Ann. While I didn’t use it that much, I also adored the Nevan weapon, and it seems like a perfect weapon addition to the game series (if only we could’ve seen something similar in DMC5!). I also enjoyed the story of this game. It was nice getting more of a backstory on Dante and Vergil, and Dante definitely grew as a character by the end of the game. It was also nice finally seeing Lady’s backstory. Arkham/Jester annoyed me, and one of my favorite parts of the game is when Vergil basically goes from “I need to begin the all important ritual” to “Okay we need to get rid of this clown ASAP”.

But, what this game makes up for in storytelling, it lacks in general gameplay and aesthetic. The game’s aesthetics almost felt bland, and many areas in Temen-ni-gru were just brown/grey stone. I also wish the early enemy design went outside of the “grim reaper” aesthetic. While I know others have different opinions on the matter, I feel that DMC3′s aesthetic was very one note, and suffers from the opposite problem of DMC4. In terms of gameplay, I felt that most of the item quests did not make sense and were unnecessary. For example, many of the doors require orichalcum to open, but randomly finding a piece of orichalcum on the ground doesn’t make sense story wise. I remember a level specifically where you have to drop down to the library to find a key item, but the library is even before the start of the level.

Compared to this, the item quests and backtracking in DMC1 made sense. For example, finding a key in a room in a castle to use on another door in a castle makes sense. Even weirder item quests, such as finding the trident to open the door, make more sense than DMC3 missions. While I do not know what orichalcum does or what it is, in one of the rooms in DMC1 there is an item with 3 holes in it, and it makes sense that the trident item gained later on would go in this space.

Finally, one of my biggest complaints about this game is the boss battles. Now I might just suck at video games, but it took me way too long to defeat some of the bosses on Devil Hunter. For example, it took me longer to figure out the Vergil fights than it did for me to complete DMC1. Bosses like Beowulf also sucked due to relying on the smaller eye hitbox. In contrast to DMC1 as well, these bosses were at the end of a level, as compared to being a separate mission, so if I wanted to leave and come back later, I’d have to replay the entire mission first.

Overall, I’ll give the game 6/10. Will I replay it? Possibly, I know I can play as Vergil, so it would be fun learning his moveset. However, a game’s aesthetic is almost more important to me than gameplay (that’s just a me thing), so I’m not sure that I would enjoy playing through the levels again due to their lackluster design.

Ending Thoughts

And that’s my rating on (almost) all the DMC games! While some of the gameplay in the earlier games was annoying, I definitely love this series, and I plan on reading the extra novels/mangas outside the game (I’ve already watched the anime). Hell, I’ll probably read some William Blake and the Divine Comedy itself.

Let me know what your ratings are! I’d love to hear everyone else’s lists.

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onlytwdfanficstories · 3 years

Text

Friends and enemies part 10

Meanwhile, in the Bad Blood community.

Negan "Hey, sexy!"

Michonne and Nita turned to look at Negan.

Nita "Which of us was that meant for?"

Negan "At least not for you."

Nita "Really fun, Negan."

Then Nita walked away.

Negan "Damn, she doesn't understand humor."

Michonne "If I'm honest and I will not understand your humor sometimes."

Negan "You look hot."

Michonne "And thought you were a racist."

Negan "So I thought I was, but apparently I'm not."

Michonne just rolled her eyes.

Negan "Are you free?"

Michonne "I'm not. I'm busy. Can not you see?"

Negan "Well, I don't think you look busy."

Michonne "Shut up, Negan."

Negan "Did you just tell me to shut up?"

Michonne "Looks like I did."

Negan "Oh, oh no, no, no .... You can't tell me that."

Michonne "And why couldn't I?"

Negan "Because it doesn't work that way."

Michonne "And because you're the leader, right?"

Negan "Look you're smart too, who would have guessed."

Michonne "What do you want anyway?"

Negan "I want you."

Michonne "Yeah, no thanks."

Negan "Don't bother, I know you want me too."

Michonne "And I don't."

Negan "I've seen how you watch me sometimes."

Michonne "And that means nothing."

Negan "You just say that to yourself."

Michonne "You're so cocky."

Negan "Admit that you like that I am."

Michonne "I hate you."

Negan "Even better. I like fiery women."

Then Judy walked past them.

Judy "Hey, boss. Hey, Michonne."

Negan "Hey, Judy."

Michonne "Hey."

Negan "How are you?"

Judy "I'm good."

Negan "Good. Have you seen Dante?"

Judy "I'm not. Why?"

Negan "If you see him, say I want to talk to him."

Judy "Is he in trouble again?"

Negan "I can't say. But if you see him, say he's coming to my office. I'm going there now."

Judy "Will do."

Then Judy went to look for Dante.

Negan "And you can find me in my office if you want to see me."

Michonne "As I would like."

Negan "That was sarcasm, right?"

Michonne "Who knows."

Then Negan went for a walk towards the inn.

Michonne "Asshole."

James "Am I an asshole?"

Michonne turned to look at James.

Michonne "Not you, but Negan."

James "Okay."

Michonne "Isn't he an asshole of you sometimes?"

James "Sometimes? He's all the time. But he's also a good leader."

Michonne "Good leader? And my ass."

James "Looks like someone's pissed off."

Michonne "So am I."

James "What did Negan do to you again?"

Michonne "It was annoying as always."

James "Damn, Negan might like you a lot."

Michonne "Maybe too much."

James "And you don't?"

Michonne "Yeah, I don't like Negan."

James "Why don't you leave?"

Michonne "What?"

James "Why don't you get hell out of here?"

Michonne "Negan shouldn't like that."

James "Fuck about Negan. Just go."

Michonne "I don't know."

James "Hey, don't bother. If you want to get rid of Negan, then you should leave." Michonne "Where the hell would I even go?"

James "I don't know."

Michonne "And that helped a lot, thank you."

James "If it were you, at least I'd leave."

Michonne said nothing.

James "I can help you escape if you want."

Michonne "I'm thinking about it."

James "Okay."

In the meantime, at the camp, Anna woke up in a tent and she opened the tent door and she crawled out of the tent.

Carol "Look who decided to wake up."

Anna "Is it morning now?"

Daryl "No, now is afternoon."

Anna "Afternoon? Did I sleep so long?"

Carol "Looks like you did."

Anna "Damn."

Carol "You must have been really tired."

Anna "You have no idea."

Then Anna noticed that Jessica was gone.

Anna "Where the hell is Jessica?"

Carol looked at Daryl and Daryl knew he had to come up with some lie.

Daryl "Uh, Jessica left early in the morning and we said we'll wait for you to wake up and we'll follow."

Anna "Aha, okay."

Carol "Coffee?"

Give "Yeah, thanks. Is that strong?"

Carol "Yeah, is it."

Anna "Okay, otherwise I wouldn't wake up without it."

Carol poured coffee into the mug and she gave it to Anna.

Anna "Thank you."

Then Anna started drinking coffee.

Anna "Did you find any traces of Merle?"

Daryl "Nothing."

Anna "What about Jim's wheelbarrows?"

Daryl "Yeah, they were in the middle of the woods near the lake."

Anna "Who has taken them there?"

Daryl "Good question."

Anna "Well, at least you found those damn wheelbarrows. Should we pick them up and take them with us?"

Daryl looked at Carol.

Carol "I don't think so."

Anna "But you know they were Jim's favorite wheelbarrows."

Carol "Well, maybe Maggie will give her new ones and they'll be his new favorite wheelbarrows."

Anna "Maybe you're right."

Daryl "We should leave already, others are definitely waiting for us."

Anna "I haven't finished my coffee yet."

Daryl "Take it with you."

Anna "Okay."

Then Carol, Daryl and Anna started to walk towards the woods.

Anna "How the hell do we find there? We don't have a damn map or anything."

Daryl "Trust me. I'll find it there without a damn map."

Anna "If you say so."

Daryl "Hello, I'm a hunter, so it makes me a good tracker."

Anna "Okay."

Carol "You're not convinced, I see."

Anna "Well, you don't see a human navigator every day."

Daryl "Well, you could say that I am basically it."

Anna "And I wouldn't wonder why you wouldn't."

Then they arrived on the highway.

Daryl "I told you."

Then they walk on the highway.

Anna "Where are we going?"

Carol "We're looking for a Fighters Of Justice community."

Then a couple of walkers walked them and one of them was Jessica.

Anna "Is it just me or does that one walker look like Jessica?"

Carol "It's not Jessica, believe me. Jessica has certainly already found the Fighters of Justice community and is safe there."

Anna "Yeah, maybe so."

Then Daryl picked up the crossbow and he aimed at the walker who looked just like Jessica and the arrow hit the walker's forehead.

Carol "I'll take care of that other one."

Carol walked towards the walker and he raised the knife up and he stabbed the walker in the forehead.

Carol "All clear!"

Then Daryl and Anna ran to Carol. Anna stared for a moment at the walker lying on the ground who looked just Jessica.

Daryl "It's not Jessica! Come on!"

Then Anna ran after them.

Anna "But it just looked like Jessica."

Carol "It's was not her."

Anna "What if the walker has bitten Jessica and now we killed her?"

Daryl "Hey, Jessica is a good fighter, so the walker wouldn't have had any chance of attacking her."

Anna "Yeah, she is."

Carol "All right then. You'll see her again when we get there in the community."

Anna "Let's hope so."

Then Daryl noticed the sign.

Daryl "Hey, there's a sign over there!"

Carol "Let's go see what it says."

Anna "Maybe we're close to that community."

They ran to the sign and it read that: We are never assured of justice without a fight

Daryl "Yep, we must be close."

Carol "Let's continue the journey then."

They went for a walk.

Anna "I still bother with one thing."

Carol "The walker who looked like Jessica?"

Anna "Yep."

Carol "Believe me when we get there in that community so I can guarantee you that Jessica is waiting for you there alive and well."

Anna "But why am I not convinced of that?"

Carol "I don't know."

Finally, they arrived at the gates of the Fighters Of Justice community.

Daryl "Hey, is there anyone there?!?!?!"

Within the community.

Rick "Was that Daryl?"

Morgan "I think so."

Outside the gate.

Daryl "Hey, let us in. Damn it!"

Maggie looked at Abraham.

Maggie "Go open the gate for them."

Abraham "All right."

Abraham walked to the gate and he opened and Daryl, Anna and Carol walked inside the community.

Rick "Good to see you."

Anna "Has Jessica arrived here?"

Morgan "We thought she was with you."

Anna looked at Daryl and Carol.

Anna "You said Jessica had left early in the morning and come here already!"

Maggie "No one has come here after Rick and the others or before you."

Give "So you lied to me! How could you?"

Then Anna ran angrily inside the house.

Rosita "Well, that escalated quickly."

Rick looked at Carol and Daryl.

Rick "You wouldn't want to explain?"

Everyone looked at them.

Shane "Well, explain what the hell that was!"

Carol "Well, Jessica disappeared in the middle of the night and Daryl went to look for her, but he couldn't find Jessica anywhere."

Abraham "That sounds like a damn bad explanation."

Daryl "That's true."

Rick "What about Merle?"

Carol "What about him?"

Amy "Did you find him?"

Carol "No, we didn't find him."

Andrea "What about Jim's wheelbarrows?"

Carol "Yeah, they were in the woods near the lake."

Jim "Near the lake, in the woods? How have they gotten there and who has taken them there?"

Carol "I wish we knew, but we don't."

Rick looked at Daryl.

Rick "I want to talk to you."

Daryl looked at Carol, Carol just nodded.

Daryl "Okay."

Rick "Let's go somewhere where we can be between the two of us."

Then Rick and Daryl walked away from the others.

Rick "You're lying, aren't you?"

Daryl "I'm lying? And shit I do."

Rick "Jessica didn't disappear, did she?"

Daryl said nothing.

Rick "Don't bother, Daryl. Just tell me what really happened."

Daryl "Carol already told you what happened."

Rick "Yeah, that was her story. Now I wanted to hear your story."

Daryl "There's no other story. Carol's story is the truth."

Rick "Daryl, it would be easier to just tell me what really happened."

Daryl sighed.

Rick "So Jessica didn't disappear, I knew it."

Daryl "No, she didn't disappear."

Rick "So what happened then?"

Daryl "I killed her."

Rick "You did what?"

Daryl "Do I have to say it again?"

Rick "You killed Jessica, really?"

Daryl "Yeah, but I didn't mean that."

Rick "Why?"

Daryl "She talked, talked and talked, then I just lost it and then the next thing I knew was that Jessica was dead."

Rick "Did you have a reason why you did it?"

Daryl "Well, she suspected I had something to do with the disappearance of Merle and the damn disappearance of Jim's wheelbarrows."

Rick "And you don't?"

Daryl "Not in hell."

Rick "Well, I think you would."

Daryl "How?"

Rick "Well, Emily had seen when Carol had picked up Jim's wheelbarrows and she saw when you and Carol put Merle in the wheelbarrows and you went into the woods."

Daryl "Okay, we did it, but we thought it was the best way."

Rick "Now I lost it. I don't realize this."

Daryl "Well, it was Merle who drank Shane's beers and Shane said that if he got to know who it was, then Merle would have been in trouble."

to be contiuned.....

#Friends and enemies #part 10 #Rick Grimes #Merle Dixon #daryl dixon #dante twd #Michonne #Shane Walsh #twd negan #abraham ford #carol petelier #Rosita Espinosa #twd morales #twd morgan #twd fanfiction #fan fiction #stories #story writing

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jungle321jungle · 5 years

Text

As Cold As Stone: Part Four

Dante Ekan’s newest case is a twenty one year old murder. It��s witnesses have remained silent all this time. So Agent Ekans seeks to change that.

He pokes, he prods, he bluffs, he lies, and he digs too deep.

But maybe the witnesses were silent for a reason.

Tagging: @mae-is-ace @ashensanity @angels-and-dreams

Ao3

~~~~

Part Four

There were a lot of things that were considered impossible. A lot of things to be thought were simply tricks of the eye. But what was standing before him was not that.

He didn’t know what it was.

No- he did. He knew exactly what it was, but he was too scared to admit it.

He knew what it was.

And he knew it didn’t make sense.

That blue aura around it, that strange glow, that see through look.

He knew what it was.

Who it was.

It was that same face he’d been staring at in his files for days.

“Thomas?” The name slipped from Patton’s lips- a slight sob with them.

The little boy- the thing looked at the man blankly before he spoke, “We promised not to tell.”

“We weren’t going to!” Logan shouted suddenly any version of his calm, cool, and collected mask he usually wore gone. “We weren’t! Remus maybe, but not me! I changed the files!”

They all began to shout then. Screaming that they had done nothing wrong.

But that small thing moved closer and they moved back. But Dee was the only one rooted to his spot out of fear he would never admit.

The boy- the thing gave Dee a smile before his form flickered before it settled on the one that Dee had thought he had become immune to.

Those wide yet glazed over eyes, those hand prints around his- its- neck. And animal wounds across the body.

Even so Thomas- it moved closer.

And it spoke in that same tone, “He wants to meet you.”

~~~~

They piled in cars.

Dee followed Logan who drove in front of him in silence, not even turning on the radio. So many questions ran through his mind, but he let them stay just that. Questions.

Because he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted answers anymore.

“Thomas” was waiting when they arrived.

He said nothing just watching them as they gathered at the edge of those woods. Then he turned and began to walk away giving no choice but to follow.

Part of Dee wanted to leave now. To run back home and tell his boss he had figured out nothing and the case would remain closed. But at the same time, based upon the faces of those around him, he wasn’t sure whatever it was would just allow him to leave. All he could do was pull his coat close to him to fight off the piercing winter air and his fear as he followed them into the trees.

“I’m sorry,” Roman blurted suddenly. “Please. Whatever I did I swear to you- to you both that I’ll never do it again.”

Thomas didn’t reply, but he did tilt his head slightly as if listening to something, but all Dee could hear other than Roman’s pleas was the steady chirping of birds.

“It’s getting louder,” Virgil whispered his sunken eyes darting around them. Dee wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about, but the rest of them seemed to understand as they kept their eyes peeled. “Please,” Virgil tried. “We’re already here!”

But nothing answered him, there was nothing but silence.

Not even a bird.

“I’m sorry,” Patton told the silence and Dee could see the tears burning at his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said your name.”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned the body,” Remus added.

“I shouldn’t have been here that day...” Logan added shaking his head. “Was that in your files agent? That I had faked being sick to get of piano lessons to come play here?”

“That was our idea,” Remus recalled. “Roman told you how you can hold the thermometer next to a lightbulb, and I told you to get under hot blankets so you’d sweat.”

“Why did you want to come here so badly?” The words had fallen from Dee’s tongue before he could stop them.

He watched as the others all stopped walking- even Thomas- and looked at him. But it was Virgil who had replied, a sad smile on his face.

“What kid doesn’t like magic?”

A blink.

A blink was all it had took.

He had blinked in that moment’s pause.

And when he opened his eyes again, they were gone.

Dee felt panic rise into his chest, as his heart began to drum. He slowly spun to look around him- to find he was alone.

Gone were his witnesses, gone was that thing.

He was alone.

But it was more than that.

Because with them, had gone the winter.

The snow which had covered the ground had vanished from sight, the cloudy day had been replaced by sun that shone through a canopy of trees that moments ago did not have their leaves. A warm, comforting, mocking breeze touched his face and it was then he realized that the silence too had left him.

He could hear birds, squirrels, cicadas- laughter.

Dee forced himself to take a deep breath reaching for his gun as if it would do a thing as the sound of laughter grew closer and closer. He tried to steady his breathing and to move behind a tree, but nothing seemed to calm him.

To be fair, in this situation, nothing should.

The laughter was child like- no it was a child- no it was more than one.

“Come on! You guys are so slow!” A boy’s voice shouted.

“V can’t run as fast!” Yelled another.

And then Dee saw him.

Thomas Sanders.

He was running towards Dee, smiling, laughing, alive.

Behind him ran a set of twins carrying a basket between them, two boys with glasses, and one too small to be out here.

They ran past him, not a care a in the world. Like they didn’t even know Dee was there. But Dee followed.

They continued up a hill to a spot that even without the snow Dee somehow recognized as the place Remus had brought him a few days prior. To the spot where the murder took place.

It was a small area circled by trees. In the center sat a large stump on which stood a black bird. The boys were laughing and talking as they took their seats around the stump and began to pull sandwiches from their basket while the bird simply stood and watched.

“Logan I don’t like mayo,” One of them- Patton- complained. “Will you switch?”

The older boy looked annoyed but he switched their sandwiches anyway, “Thomas did you pack the juice?”

Thomas nodded, “Yup! I even grabbed some cookies when my mom wasn’t looking. We’ll have to share though.”

“Virgil, what kind of juice do you want?” Roman asked pulling out some juice boxes from the basket.

The smallest one of the group paused and considered his options seriously before he asked for the grape one which was handed over.

“Are you not hungry?”

For a moment Dee thought Remus has been talking to him. But instead the boy’s eyes were on the bird which was yet to move.

But then a man’s voice spilled from its beak, “I’m letting you all have first choice.”

Dee’s heart skipped a beat and he took a step back in shock only managing to lose his footing and fall back into a sitting position. But the boys hadn’t noticed. But the bird’s beady eyes turned in his direction.

Dee took a breath- no he tried- no he- how did one breathe again?

How did one calm their heart?

How did one?

How did-

How-

The bird was a man now.

A tall man dressed casually in jeans and white shirt sitting cross legged on that stump. His hair was dark as were his eyes.

But his eyes hadn’t left Dee.

The boys chattered on without a care in the world, and they didn't seem to notice the man as he took a step in Dee’s direction. But as he did Dee noticed a bird seemed to materialize where he had been sitting previously.

He was in a memory and in the memory he has stayed a bird. But if this was a memory then why could Dee feel. And why could this man see him?

He was barefoot Dee noticed. Perhaps he could out run him.

He took another step and Dee tried to force his legs to stand as the man gave him a kind yet unnerving smile, “The boys broke their promise I see.”

Dee gave a swallow as he forced himself to stand to unsteady legs, but he couldn't force himself to move further away or to even speak.

He took another step as Dee felt tears burn at his eyes, but after a moment’s pause he gave a scowl and then he was back at that stump. But now Thomas was on it and his hands were around the boy’s throat. And his mouth spilled blood as he raised his face from the child’s chest as he looked up to Dee with his eyes glowing orange.

A scream hit Dee’s ears.

He wasn’t sure if it belonged to the boys around the scene or from himself.

And then it was over.

Gone was the man. Gone was the poor helpless Thomas. Gone was the summer, and back was the winter. And those small boys were gone, replaced by the men they had become.

The only thing which hadn’t vanished were the tears in his eyes, his quick beating heart, or the fear which had overtaken him.

He wiped at his face and examined the faces of the men.

“What the fuck was that?”

Dee wanted his voice to sound strong so sound confident- to sound like he wasn’t about to piss himself in fear. But it didn’t.

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit-,” Virgil was mumbling the word over and over like mantra from where he crouched down on the ground.

“What was that?” Dee yelled at them.

“Mister Sir,” Patton answered so quietly it was almost taken by the wind. “You made him angry.”

“No,” Dee said but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was replying to. “No. That- that thing. What is it? Why? I-”

“I chose the name Mister Sir,” Roman admitted. “It sounded better than his real name, I couldn’t pronounce it... still can’t.”

“He said he had sinned against the forest,” Logan explained his voice hollow. “So he was condemned to live that way forever.”

“What did he do?” Dee found himself asking despite not wanting the answer.

“Never said. He just said he had a really bad temper,” he gave a slight laugh. “You know, to this day, I don’t know what Thomas did to set him off?”

“Because Thomas didn’t do anything,” Remus said, his voice quiet. “...I did. I-”

“Remus!” Roman cut in.

“Oh hush,” Remus replied. “You’ve been covering for me this long and we both know you’re sick of it.”

“What are you talking about?” Patton asked.

“The truth, Patty! I pissed him off that day! He just took it out on Thomas.”

That seemed to be enough to shock Virgil out of his ramblings, “What did you do?”

“Remus if you say another damn word,” Roman told his brother grabbing him by the arm.

“What’s the point Ro?” Remus asked pulling away. “Might as well let everyone else in on the little secret.”

“What did you do?” Virgil asked again.

“It was just supposed to be a little prank,” Remus shrugged but his supposedly carefree smile wavered as he spoke. “I blamed it on Thomas because he was such a goody two shoes. I-I thought it would be funny.”

“What did you do?”

“I broke the fourth rule... I touched him. Even took a feather or two,” Remus shrugged. “And I put them on Thomas so he’d think Thomas did it. I thought it would be harmless. Birds are covered in feathers!”

“Stop talking!” Roman yelled at him.

“Why?” Remus shouted back. “He already knows! All those birds he sends to watch us? Those things that have been watching us every day of our lives since? He fucking knows what I did already! And he knows he made a mistake! He knows that he should’ve killed me!” Remus gave a deep breath. “But thankfully there’s one thing he’s even more mad about. And I brought it here... Right, Agent Ekans?”

Remus gave a wide- almost proud smile as he moved closer to Dee. “He can’t leave the forest. So he always needed me to come back. But when I did you were with me, but killing me then would only make you more suspicious. But since you- an outsider- needed to know everything it all works out! Because now you know as much as we do. And now? If there is one person he wants dead more than me, it's you.” His eyes narrowed as that smile stayed plastered on his stupid face. “So thanks for everything Ekans. You coming here today is literally, my saving grace.”

For a moment things were silent.

Dee had taken a step back in surprise as he tried to process what was just said. But he didn’t get a chance to as a bird flew down and perched itself on the old stump. It sat still for a moment before it’s body began to change and grow-

Dee was running. He was sprinting.

He ran, his legs moving faster than he knew he could. His heart was stabbing a knife inside his chest as he moved. He could hear screams and shouts from behind him, he could hear birds, and he could hear someone else running after him.

But he didn’t turn around.

He forced himself to keep moving.

There was nothing else he could do. He needed to find the exit. He didn’t know where it was but he’d find it.

He had to.

There wasn’t a second option.

The footsteps behind him were growing faster and growing closer.

Dee tried to fight the tears welling in his eyes- blocking his view of the landscape.

But ultimately it didn’t matter as a hand- as cold as ice- curled around the back of his neck.

~~~~

“I’m sorry sir. After all the time I spent in Merten Hill I still have nothing. I couldn’t crack the witnesses at all.”

His boss gave a shrug, “It happens to all of us Ekans. Why don’t you head home for a few days then-”

“I’d rather just get back into things,” Dee interrupted. At the man’s skeptical look he continued. “It’s my first failure in a while. I'd rather get back to something more normal .”

“You don’t need to beat yourself up on this. You’re a good agent, Ekans. And one day, be in five or even thirty years from now, whomever killed that kid will he be held responsible.”

Dee said nothing for a moment, his gaze going past the man in front of him and out the window, and focusing on the number of birds sitting on the telephone wire.

“That said,” he started his eyes not leaving the window. “I do think it’s true that some things stay cold... and maybe that’s for the best.”

Cold as ice.

Idiom.

Variations: Cold as stone or cold as the grave

~~~~

Part Three - Part Four

Thank you so much for reading this, it was so fun to write!

And I know I wrote it super vague so I accept questions lol.

#ascoldasstone #virgil sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #logan sanders #patton sanders #deciet sanders #remus sanders #thomas sanders #orange side #orange wrath #muder mystery #murder #fbi #supernatural #ghosts #horrorish

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freevoidman · 5 years

Text

Okay I’m reading through Porg’s update so some of y’all can save your braincells and here are some great highlights (under a readmore bc i couldn’t help but tear into a few things she suggested):

Flat out ignoring that Vergil had changed by the end of the game as a result of V and Urizen’s separate experiences.

In trying to make V and Urizen their own character, she throws out the idea of Vergil being manipulated by the Qliphoth/Urizen (??? somehow??? even though the tree is implied to be non-sentient i believe???), with V being a Devil hunter looking through the remains of Mallet Island (which was completely blown up, turned to rubble, and then swallowed by the sea, so... that can’t happen), finding the cane which makes him youthful and not sick but... having the cane makes it so he can only kill demons through the cane??? for some reason??? And he needs the Qliphoth fruit to heal himself and free him from the curse???

How did she make V’s backstory even more confusing and complicated how the fuck did she do that

Almost immediately after bringing up the cane, she instead changes it to be one of the rings he’s wearing because she wants her “precious V” to use weapons other than the cane, which makes all the prior paragraphs about the cane’s curse and only using it pointless. She’s the one writing this fic, why can’t she edit her own work so it’s more cohesive?

Despite saying that V should be a Devil Hunter, she doesn’t explain why someone who is supposed to be killing demons would form a pact with at least three to fight demons. Her rewrite dismisses Visions of V, and she even states later that the manga is a waste of time as it won’t ever be translated into English (which 1) is not a limiting factor to reading it as many people have translated it already and 2) doesn’t dismiss it’s value at building up V’s character, who she supposedly likes the best).

Also, for someone who complains about DMC5 being a rehash of DMC3, she’s sure doing her best to change it to a rehash of DMC1 (Vergil being controlled by an outside force, bringing back Mallet Island, bringing back Mundus [the cane is supposed to be tied to Mundus]).

V apparently can’t be human because she wants to give him a devil trigger, despite having 3 familiars and his own strength. Okay I guess?

Also it’s really fucking sick how she describes V changing, because it’s apparently V fusing with Nightmare? Devil May Cry has never been one for body horror but she straight up says she was inspired by “The Thing (1982), The Fly (1986), Bloodborne, and Resident Evil 7″ for the transformation imagery and I wanted to nope the fuck out of there real quick.

Her segments of actual fiction writing and dialogue are really bad it’s almost like a parody Youtube skit.

She switches between prose and script writing randomly, it’s really odd. She does it primarily with Dante i’ve noticed? Here’s an example I wrote of what she does:

“Hey, don’t stress out about it will you?” Says John following a few steps behind VINCENT: Don’t get your panties in a twist

And that just happens... randomly? Like, there’s no indication why she’s doing that it just happens.

She straight up writes notes in her fic about the controls for character actions in-game what the hell--

She also shamelessly puts in a link to artwork that clearly isn’t her’s (and I highly doubt she got permission to post about) to try and show what V’s Devil Trigger would look like. I couldn’t find it because I don’t know how pixiv works, but that’s just a shitty move, especially with how she treats artists on tumblr when they draw art of Vergil.

EDIT: Porg has now straight up copy-pasted the art into her fic without the artist’s permission which is, we all know, fucking theft. While it is good artistry, is just a weird mashup of Vergil’s and Dante’s. It’s not all that unique and I don’t understand why she had to reference a bunch of body horror shit when all the Devil Triggers in game are essentially just a large flash of light and a seamless transition between forms??? It’s good art, I’m not trying to bash the artist, but... Porg, you could’ve been a little more original here rather than just ripping off another artist’s designs...

Everyone in her fic acts super casually to seeing Vergil alive in the Qliphoth and it’s like... honey, no.

Vergil acts WILDLY out of character holy fuck. Like, I know I should have expected that but this is NOT how Vergil would act in the slightest. She’s pretty much writing an OC.

Building off of this: EVERYONE acts OOC and... it’s not exactly cringey, but it is perfect proof that Porg doesn’t know what she’s doing and hasn’t properly analyzed the characters.

Dante acts weirdly... detached? There’s no sign of him acting like his normal goofball-y self, and he’s much more serious than normal. He actually acts more like cannon Vergil than himself, actually. (He also knows CPR apparently? Which... is a skill he would really never bother learning, so...)

Nero doesn’t act nearly as emotional, and acts calmly for some reason. You can’t feel any of his emotions behind his dialogue, only through the adverbs added to the tags)

V is too informative. He knows way too much about random shit that... no one should rightfully know. I’ll mention it more later, but... V doesn’t act like himself and I don’t really know how to explain it.

Vergil is essentially her OC. Seriously--he’s not as brooding or snarky, he’s far too open and apologetic, there’s practically no sense of rivalry between him and Dante. Weirdly, he acts more like canon V than fic!V does, despite the fact that Porg wants to establish V and Vergil and separate characters. His actions also make no sense when put alongside his canon personality. We aren’t reading anything about Vergil, we’re reading about Porg’s weirdly idealized version of him.

I’m going to make a break in the post here because I feel like this is the part that needs the most attention:

Porg goes OUT OF HER WAY to dedicate a GIANT portion of this chapter to her own OC: Nero’s mom. There are several long paragraphs of establishing the relationship between her OC and Vergil, talking about leaving Fortuna, how they were ‘happy’ and then saying that after a hurricane (inspired by hurricane hugo, you’ll see later) she got separated from Vergil, never reconnected with him, GAVE BIRTH, died from a demon attack with Nero staying near her corpse, and then Nero was found by humans and taken off the mainland to be taken to an orphanage on Fortuna. She wanted a massive amount of time to be taken out of the fun parts of playing Devil May Cry to establish a relationship that would never come back and essentially turn into a 15 minute soap opera inserted into a game about having fun killing demons.

Alright back to the noted highlights.

Porg confirms in her fic that the universe of Devil May Cry happens in the US, and that Fortuna is an island along the southeast coast and I want to fucking rip my eyeballs out at this point.

The ONLY REASON why she is doing this is because she lives in Florida. I know she does, and she just wants to imply that this is all happening near her home turf. How anyone who lives in Florida thinks an island like Fortuna can exist is beyond me though, because playing through 4, most of the buildings are inspired by Italian designs, and no one in the states would build an entire island with italian designs. I’ve been to Florida multiple times--there’s no buildings there even REMOTELY designed to match Fortuna.

EDIT: I have been informed that Porg actually lives in Pennsylvania, not Florida, which makes both more and less sense. Why Florida? Why not a hidden island up on the east coast? Why does this have to be taking place in the states at all Porg???

Yeah, let’s take Nero off the MAINLAND OF FLORIDA after a DEVASTATING HURRICANE and send him to an orphanage on an ISLAND which would’ve been hit the hardest by ANY hurricane. TOTAL SENSE.

She tries to make her own timeline for the series using actual real world dates and events and it’s terrible (she references Hurricane Hugo in 1989, and confidently states that 3 took place in 1990, despite all evidence for the actual dates of events being fan theory established through circumstantial evidence).

There’s so much horror movie inspiration here--not cheap horror, but really twisted shit that... doesn’t fit with Devil May Cry’s tone at all? In the slightest? She references Jacob’s Ladder, plus all the other body horror media I wrote above.

Straight up just tears Vergil’s arm off which sure, I guess we gotta make THAT a parallel between Nero and Vergil. They can have a father son moment over being physically maimed.

In the scene immediately before this, Urizen picks up Vergil by the head and roots around Vergil’s memories (somehow???) to show him all the ‘bad moments’ in his life to traumatize him. She describes it as the audience getting flashes of him falling to hell, charging Mundus, being Nelo Angelo, etc.

This causes Vergil to cry and beg for Urizen to stop. Then Urizen rips off his arm. So. Yeah. Another point for the OOC!Vergil/OC-taking-Vergil’s-place board.

Also this point ALONE made me realize that Porg does not know how much time, effort, and money needs to be put into making assets. Like, the entire fic she was stressing that everything be done in 5′s HD Graphics--including the ruins of Mallet Island, so I have to assume she’d want these little snippets in HD too, which would be a massive money hole creating these assets for one scene that lasts maybe ten seconds total.

I know I stated it in one of my earlier posts, but most of what she’s writing would fit better with a sequel for the reboot series, not DMC5. It would make her OOC writing of Vergil make sense, all the horror movie inspiration and body horror shit would fit better there, especially all the crappy dialogue too.

She somehow made Griffon even MORE annoying than in cannon.

BTW if I had to listen to poetry while fighting the final boss of a video game, I’d sooner turn my PS4 off. Not that poetry isn’t cool and all, but it cheapens the final fight and distracts you. It wouldn’t work.

EDIT: I realized this point made no sense without context, sorry. Porg made the Book of Urizen (the poetry book by William Blake referenced multiple times by V) either weirdly prophetic or made it out like Blake had inner knowledge of demon powers or... something along those lines, and V magically has the knowledge that reciting poetry from the book about Urizen will... harm him? Weaken him? Open a gate to hell (she mentions a portal appearing near him)? It’s very unclear, but she essentially rewrites Urizen as the final boss, and makes it three stages (V [Griffon recites some verses, which is what the first point was about], Vergil and Dante [this is where Vergil gets his arm ripped off btw], and then Nero) with all three of them reading poetry from the book to deal the “final blow” to Urizen. I’d much rather have Vergil be the final boss than have to go through a three-stage boss fight while every character I play as recites poetry to kill the boss.

She mentions Dante using Sin DT against Urizen but I’m pretty sure with her fuckery of the game’s events Dante can’t GET Sin DT? Because there’s no fight between Nero and Urizen where he’d intervene?

COMPLETELY IGNORES VERGIL’S DEVELOPMENT OF WANTING TO TRAVEL WITH HIS BROTHER THROUGH HELL TO ELIMINATE THE QLIPHOTH FUCK OFF.

Also she changed the lore of the Qliphoth so that it sprouts semi-naturally around every 500 or so years? So... shouldn’t leaving the Qliphoth roots be fine now? Since it’s natural?

Nico acts like growing back arms is totally normal

Wrote an INCREDIBLY shoe-horned in moment in the van with Dante filling Trish and Lady in about finding Vergil and everything that happened where, once again, Trish and Lady act almost completely nonplussed that Vergil is alive after 20+ years in hell, with about 9 of those ten years being trapped under Mundus’ control and corrupted by the Demon King

Seriously why is no one surprised in this fic that Vergil survived? Dante has a brief moment before finding him, but everyone finds out and accepts it like flipping a switch (once again--ESPECIALLY DANTE, which is NOT how the grieving process works)

Porg states that the ending is trash because the twins are fighting in hell, but completely ignores that most of Dante and Vergil’s lives have been built on conflict and they like fighting demons, especially Dante. Both of them were happy and doing what they love.

She also completely ignores through this entire thing that Dante was really fucking depressed in the novels leading up to 5 but hey I don’t even know if she can read.

I can vaguely agree that Trish and Lady were sidelined and they should’ve had a bigger role. However, I can’t fault the directors for not doing this, because they were already developing three playable characters with their own unique fighting styles. She writes all this shit about the story, writes notes about controls and mission layouts, but forgets that it takes a lot more than pressing a single button to code a game.

She just doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Seriously, none of these things are cohesive or edited properly, and despite her saying she wanted better for Vergil, or Nero, or Dante, or V, she writes all of them incredibly out of character and doing illogical actions. I just... I don’t get it.

The best part is--I can’t even tell her about these things, or give constructive criticism. She moderates the comments on her fic and isn’t afraid to delete anything she doesn’t agree with or can’t make a ‘passionate rant’ about.

#devil may cry #derelict-stranger #thephantomporg84 #i'm doing y'all a favor here

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thephantomporg84 · 5 years

Note

[REDACTED] be complaining reg. the reactions of having "placed the cultist island Fortuna off the coast of Florida" while having the gall of "It’s the story & the way it’s told that should fucking matter" & "Who cares? It’s fictional geography, you idiots." Feels a bit like failing World-Building 101. I mean, Red Grave based on London would also be a callback to Dante's early concept of being a Brit.

Someone already sent me the whole post of hers that I’m pretty sure you’re referring to lmao. I’m in a particularly cunty but pleasant mood rn, and analysis is kind of my thing, so lets’s break it down, shall we?

Maybe someone can send this her way and… learn that tiny little brain of hers a thing. 😉

It’s fictional geography called world building, you idiots Karen after the cut:

‘I love how a number of shitheels have screeched amongst themselves on this hellsite about how I had placed the cultist island Fortuna off the coast of Florida or somewhere around the Gulf US states (re: the fanfic & project link in my header), whining that it should’ve been in Europe, namely Italy.’

An admission to stalking profiles is not exactly the best way to start a self-righteous rant or advertise your… magnum opus, but go off, I guess.

‘Not only that, but they whined about “plotholes and inconsistencies” without elaborating on what the latter are. The asshole who made the rant was annoyed when I used a poem as a spell in the story (“if I heard that, I’d turn off my PS4.”), but I’m sure she didn’t bitch about the cutscene before the last Agnus boss fight in DMC4.’

Like the movie The Room (2003), it’s just easier to say “all of it” is bad because “all of it” contains plotholes and is inconsistent in tone, has terrible half-baked ideas and plot threads that remain unresolved and/or do nothing to further the plot, is rife with poor + inconsistent characterization, has a lack of any knowledge how the medium it exists in is made, and in general makes me wonder how much pottery enamel you’ve been huffing to think any of this was a good idea. Howeverrrr, in contrast to you, Tommy Wiseau is kind of odd and weirdly charming both in general and about his terrible movie — he’s found glory and success in its terribleness. You, in contrast, remain a miserable cunt with delusions of grandeur.

Dante and Agnus’ Shakespeare bit is actually a pretty well known trope called Ham-to-Ham Combat. Dante and Agnus are both ridiculous Large Hams in DMC4, and when two Large Hams meet, in general, they are likely gonna try to ‘out-over dramatic’ each other. This can lead to a scene becoming either really funny or really corny (or both) really fast. If things go too far — and they do, in this case — the scene can become a Hormel Event Horizon.

‘…but they LOVE the plotholes & inconsistencies if Capcom makes the latter, and writes a terrible story! And Crapcom’s canon for DMC is as straight as a paperclip or a dog’s hind leg. Hypocritical pricks.’

Subjective opinion is not, and never will be, objective fact. People are, as of when I checked again in the last ~5 minutes or so, absolutely able to enjoy whatever media they want regardless of what the general consensus on the quality of that media is.

As an example, I enjoy The Room (2003) despite its terribleness and it never fails to make me laugh, while your magnum opus makes me want to huff pottery enamel so the pain will stop despite you thinking it is the work of an idiot savant.

‘They were also mad that I wrote Dante as a wiseguy who is a little more low-key about it due to the circumstances— instead of being a pathetic manchild airhead that tries too hard.’

You didn’t write Dante.

You wrote Reboot!Donte — a fucking terribly out of character version of him, at that.

‘I was primarily concerned about moving the story along. I didn’t care about where a fictional island is supposed to go.’

You literally had one (1) job, Karen.

‘…Meanwhile, not a single character in DMC4 had an Italian accent, so uh, why should I give a flying fuck where I put it?’

Haven’t you been like… shitting on the DMC staff… for terrible writing… this enti— You know what? You’re obvs way too dumb to notice that contradiction, so I’ll let it slide.

Just… a word of advice, if I may? Don’t ever watch dub TV shows. That last brain cell would fuckin’ just burst all over your carpet.

(Actually, don’t watch subtitled shows either. An extremely popular anime that was set in Italy just wrapped and all the characters — le gasp! — spoke fucking Japanese. You would shit.)

‘I wasn’t paid to write any of what I wrote, but be my guest & send a PM if you want to throw money at me. By all means, do that.’

Oh, thank fuck, because they would have been ripped off, big time.

[ btw, you sound p. jealous of people that write/do creative work/commissions for ko-fi/payment tho. Not a good look tbbh. If it’s any consolation, though, I don’t get paid for making fun of you and/or analyzing your dumb bullshit, either. :( ]

‘The pricks at Capcom didn’t even bother giving us a proper DMC4 and it was a half-assed game, with the latter half being hasty filler material. The “special edition” they coughed up in 2015 was just glorified overpriced DLC.’

Ya know, you gotta be pretty far up your own ass to think this much of your opinion. And I’m saying this as a person that’s pretty far up her own ass like 85% of the time.

‘And another thing, Redgrave City in DMC5 seems to be in England, yet no survivors speak with English accents or slang/dialects.’

Pretty sure no survivors had speaking roles.

If you played the game you’d know this.

‘Meanwhile, Dante and Vergil had lived there when they were kids (until age 8), but they both have ordinary American or Canadian accents. Furthermore, how did the twins make it to the USA or Canada? According to the little booklet in the DMC1 game case, Dante’s office is in modern America.’

You know that invoking the imagery of a specific place without naming your location is normal and standard practice, right? Overwatch even does this (For Ex: Byōdō-in (平等院), Uji, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan is the inspiration for Hanamura, Château de Duingt, Duingt, France for Château Guillard, etc.)

Furthermore, you know the original DMC was a rejected first draft of Resident Evil 4, right? This is what retcon is for. You at least know what retcon is, right?

‘…That information isn’t very important, but I’m bringing it up to illustrate a point that being a fucking pedant about geography in a fantasy game is idiotic, even if the setting is akin to modern Earth.’

So is freaking the fuck out and sending death threats over a fantasy game but you didn’t let that stop you either lmfao.

It’s actually super important to establish your scenery and the way your world operates, especially in a written work in which readers are dependent on your vision and your descriptions, and if you were a decent writer, you’d know this.

‘It’s the story & the way it’s told that should fucking matter.’

YOU HAD ONE (1) JOB, KAREN.

‘What US states are the Arklay Mountains located in?’

General description puts them in the U.S. Midwest. Raccoon City itself is stated to have a population of ~100,000 at the time of outbreak, and the only city in the Midwest that matches that population in 1998 is Springfield, Missouri, with a pop. of ~110,000.

Springfield is on the Springfield Plateau of the Ozarks region of SW Missouri. So they’re part of the Ozark Mountains.

This all took less than ~3 minutes to google, btw.

‘Where is “Zanzibar Land?”’

I actually just wrote a comprehensive answer to an ask a few weeks ago about this. It’s actually stated to be in Tselinoyarsk (Целиноярск), the (fictional) area of the former USSR in which Big Boss carried out the Virtuous Mission/Operation Snake Eater in 1964. Tselinoyarsk itself is heavily implied to consist of parts of Kyrgyzstan and/or Tajikistan. If you played MGS3 you’d know how important the setting and the varied environments/climates are to the game mechan-

oh yeah wait you believe in segregation of story and gameplay mechanics. I forget you’re completely tone deaf sometimes lmao.

How far is ‘Salem’s Lot or Derry from Bangor? Who cares?’

Stephen King does, quite a bit. He even has a map on his website of ‘his’ fictional version of Maine:

My disappointment is immeasurable, Karen.

#anonymous #replies #porg drama #derelict-stranger #derelict stranger #dmc #devil may cry #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #dante #dmc dante #dmc fanfiction #dmc meta #writing #ao3

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copper-wasp · 5 years

Text

Even a Devil May Drabble - Dante x Reader (Part 4/?)

Title: Spring Cleaning

Rating: T

Words: 1,764

Tagging: @blindedstarlight @tehrevving @xalmasyx @ofburisms

“Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” you whined, dropping the socket wrench on the floor.

“That’s an interesting kink,” you heard Dante say from across the room.

You groaned at him, standing up from behind the currently dead jukebox. You leaned on the top of it, letting your chin rest on your crossed arms.

"What have you done to this?" you asked, gently patting the top of the machine.

"Kicked it a few times, stabbed it a few times... it usually starts working again when I do one of those things," he explained, walking over to you. You gave him an annoyed look, and he responded with a wide grin.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, tracing your finger over the edge of the machine.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad,” he replied, tapping his finger on your nose before turning on his heel to stride out of the office, leaving you alone with the busted jukebox.

“Hey, wait!” you called out, stepping out from behind the machine. “You got any electrical tape in this place?”

“Probably in the basement!” he said just as the heavy door slammed shut behind him.

“Great, the basement. What horrors will I find down there?” you mused to yourself, pulling off the rough work gloves you had on and dropping them on top of the toolbox.

You walked over and pulled the basement door open, a loud squeal from the hinges announcing your arrival. You made a mental note to get some WD-40 the next time you went to the store as you felt around the wall for a light switch. A telltale ‘click’ and a soft yellow light turned on at the bottom of the stairs.

You gingerly took the steps one at a time until you arrived at the bottom, your mouth hanging open.

“Dear god, what is all this crap?” you asked yourself, looking around the space. There were rickety tables stacked with boxes, tools and hardware littering the floor, and one of the walls was pockmarked with very obvious bullet holes, crumbled chunks of concrete on the floor in front of it. Immediately all thoughts of fixing the jukebox left your mind, as your intense need to organize this messy room came to the forefront of your mind.

Looking around, you saw a roll of garbage bags perched precariously on top of a stack of magazines on a stool, and you grabbed them, pulling one off and waving your arms around to expand the plastic. You quickly started scooping up all the garbage - empty beer and soda cans, paper towels stained with gun oil, newspapers from years prior, broken bolts, anything that clearly looked like garbage. Two full bags later and you could walk freely around the room, but there was still a lot to be done. You did find the electrical tape, and put it on the bottom stair to take back up with you.

You walked over to one of the work benches, pulled away an olive green tarp covering most of it, and were met with a pair of... swords? You gingerly picked the turquoise one up by the hilt. It was heavy, but well balanced, and you turned it over in your hands.

“Look Agni, a guest!” the sword said, and you promptly squealed and dropped it on the floor, landing with a loud clang.

“Oh, it seems you have dropped Rudra. Would you be so kind as to pick him up? I believe he landed on his face,” the other sword said.

“Pick... him... up?” you said, looking between the orange and turquoise swords, hoping that this wasn’t some intense auditory hallucination.

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind,” the orange sword, Agni, said. You bent down to retrieve the other sword from the ground, propping it back on the table face up.

“Thank you, nice guest,” the one called Rudra said and you smiled nervously, quietly saying ‘you’re welcome.’

“So, uh,” you began, pushing some rags off of a stool and pulling it up to the table, “what’s your, um... deal?”

“Our deal? Apologies, I do not understand what you mean,” Agni said.

“How are you two talking to me right now? Aren’t you... swords?”

“Well, yes, but we are demons, too,” explained Rudra.

“So you’re demon swords?” you mumbled, mostly to yourself, but two voices rang out in agreement.

You rested your elbows on the table, setting your chin in your palms. “I’ve gotta hear the story of how two demons ended up in a demon hunter’s basement,” you said, excitement glimmering in your eyes.

The demon swords regaled you with their tale of fighting Dante in the Temen-ni-gru, and how they asked him to take them with him upon his victory; also how they were now regretting that decision, considering they’ve been stuck in a basement for years. You’d never thought you’d be so entertained by talking to a pair of demons, but there you were, thirty minutes later, trying to explain to them what Instagram was.

“Hey,” Dante said quietly behind you and you nearly jumped out of your skin, the stool tilting precariously backwards. Dante caught the edge, making sure you didn’t fall over, rebalancing the stool on the ground.

Agni and Rudra groaned in unison at Dante’s presence and you let out a little giggle. “Great, he’s back,” Agni lamented.

“Going to cover us up again?” asked Rudra.

“If you two chuckleheads don’t shut up, probably,” Dante replied, clearing some more space off of the table next to the demon swords, and hopping on it, dangling his legs over the side.

“Oh, come on, these two are charming,” you said, hopping off the stool.

“Shh!” Dante said, “Don’t encourage them, they’ll insist I take them back upstairs.”

“Nice lady will take us upstairs, right?” Agni asked, nearly begging.

“Sorry guys, you’ll have to take that up with the Boss-man,” you said, grinning at the Devil Hunter.

“And I think they already know the answer,” Dante said with a chuckle, hopping down off the table. “Hey, [Y/N], come upstairs, I wanna show you something.”

“Sure, Dante,” you replied, wiping your brow with your forearm. “Well, gentlemen, it’s been nice chatting with you, I’ll be back down later.” Waving at the two sentient swords, you followed Dante back upstairs.

Closing the basement door behind you, you turned to see the silver-haired man standing in front of the jukebox. He proceeded to smack the top with a closed fist, and, to your absolute surprise, the lights turned on and music began playing.

“Holy shit! You fixed it! I’m impressed,” you said, crossing your arms and walking over to him.

“Just finished up what you started,” he said, giving you a sweet smile. “Since you abandoned your task to go flirt with a couple of demons.”

“Flirt? Me? Never,” you said, grinning, locking eyes with him.

“Never, huh? How about the look you’re giving me right now?” he challenged, and you looked at him quizzically.

“You don’t count, Dante. And, by the way, you’re the biggest flirt there is,” you replied, pinching his cheek.

He grabbed your wrist when you tried to turn away, intent on getting back to reorganizing the basement, and made a little noise when you felt him pull you into an embrace, his arm sneaking around your waist to keep you where he wanted.

“I may be a flirt, but... I think you like it,” he said in a low, husky voice, searching your face with those gorgeous blues.

Of course you liked it. You liked every outrageous word he said to you, every little touch he’d give you, each seductive smirk as you walked past him, his eyes tracing down your body.

You swallowed hard at the sound of his voice, heated words still ringing in your ears. Dante was... difficult to resist normally, but exponentially more when he was so close to you. When his lips were just inches away. When all you needed to do was move your head just the smallest amount, close the distance and kiss him, like you’d wanted to for months.

You started to move, raised your hand to place it on his stubbly cheek, but paused, unsure and a little scared. Dante gently grabbed your hand, placing it on the side of his neck, before mirroring his own hand on you.

“Dante...” you whispered, drawn like a magnet to his lips. You kissed him gently at first, testing the waters, gaining but the smallest possible taste of him. He was addictive, nicotine and caffeine, and he flooded your system with dopamine. You wanted more, and god help anyone who tried to tell you no.

You pressed yourself against him, draping your arms over his shoulders, feeling his hands slide down your back, parting to grip onto your hips.

He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until you moaned, eagerly welcoming his tongue into your mouth, where it danced with yours, warm and skilled.

He pulled away after another blissful moment, leaving you nearly panting, your eyes still closed, basking in the warmth of his kisses.

“I should, uh, get back to organizing your mess...” you said, finally opening your eyes to meet his. His lips were parted, slightly more pink than usual from your heated kisses, and you just wanted to run your tongue over them.

“Why go down there when you could come upstairs to a nice, warm bed?” he asked, pushing your hair away so he could kiss down your neck. “You might even find an incredibly attractive half demon waiting for you.”

You laughed softly, pushing his hair behind his ears and giving him a soft kiss. “You have no shame, Dante,” you said and he smiled at you.

“Maybe not, but I’ve got a hell of a lot of self control right now, otherwise I’d have slung you over my shoulder already and we’d be halfway up the stairs,” he replied, giving your ass a healthy squeeze.

You thought for a moment, cocking your head. “I... wouldn’t be opposed to that, actually....” you said, dragging a hand down his chest. “But on one condition.”

“And that is?”

“You let our friends come upstairs,” you stated, narrowing your eyes at him in challenge. He tilted his head back with a groan, but still had his hands on you, and you knew you’d won.

“Fine, but I’m duct taping their mouths closed.”

You smiled at him in victory, but it was quickly wiped off your face as Dante did indeed sling you over his shoulder, practically sprinting to his bedroom.

Thank you for reading!

(Cheers if you know where the first line came from...)

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

Twitter: copper_wasp_

#dmc #dmc 5 #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dante #dante x reader #drabble #drabble collection #copper-wasp #copper-wasp writes

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hunnywrites · 5 years

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We Fell In Love In October: Part Three: The End

Summary: Billy and Teddi celebrate Halloween in 1986.

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! The end of the mini series is here! This was a bit more fluffy than I had intended, but is that really a bad thing? Hope you enjoy!

“Will you quit unbuttoning your shirt?” Teddi asked with a huff. “He doesn’t have it unbuttoned in the movie, Billy.” She reached forward and buttoned up the remaining buttons on Billy’s dark blue plaid shirt. Billy was pouting down at her.

“If I button them all I look like a fucking dork,” He argued. He turned to look at himself in the full length mirror that sat in their bedroom, adjusting his red jacket with a frown.

Teddi had gone to goodwill once a week for the last two months until she finally found all of the pieces for their costumes. Billy had finally caved and agreed to be Jack and Wendy Torrence from The Shining. Considering the incident with the mindflayer had made Billy go full Overlook, Teddi thought it would be a funny choice (plus, she had actually hit him with a baseball bat).

Billy and Teddi stood side by side, looking back at their reflections. They looked older, Teddi realized. Like somehow they were peering into their futures. “...We look like we should own a farm.” Billy muttered.

Teddi let out a snort, softly elbowing him in the side. “We’d make pretty hot farmers.” she joked.

“Obviously.” the doorbell rang. Teddi hurried out to the front door, and Billy could hear her greeting all of the trick or treaters and complimenting each of their costumes as she handed out candy. Billy picked up his flask, stashing it in the pocket inside his jacket and heading out to meet her.

He would have been perfectly happy lounging out on the couch with a stack of horror movies, ordering a pizza and handing out candy. But there was a Halloween festival in town that Teddi had been looking forward to all month. So he agreed to wear the couples costume and pig out on funnel cake and caramel apples.

Billy didn’t miss the girl with short, golden brown hair dressed as Madonna at the door. He didn’t need to see Teddi’s face to know the girl reminded her of El. The group of kids thanked Teddi and ran off. Teddi shut the door, turning back with a glazed over look in her eyes. She quickly smiled when she saw Billy watching her.

“You can always call her when you get home, you know.” he said, wrapping an arm around her.

“I know...maybe. I don’t wanna annoy her,” Billy knew that wasn’t possible. “We should head out before the trick or treaters start to pick up.” she suggested. Maybe it was time for them to take a trip up to visit the Byers. Maybe he could call Joyce and surprise Teddi. Tell her they were going somewhere else entirely.

The pair headed out to the Camaro and Billy flicked on the radio. He groaned when Teddi’s Halloween mixtape came on, the Monster Mash playing loudly. She giggled beside him, running her fingers through his curls, tucking some behind his ear and laying her head on his shoulder. “It’s one night, Hargrove.” she reminded him.

The Halloween festival was bigger than Billy had been expecting from a town like Hawkins. It reminded him a little of the boardwalk back in San Diego. The janky rides and colorful food stalls. He was hit with a wave of memories. All the dates he’d taken to the boardwalk to make himself look good. He liked to win whatever girl he was taking out that week lots of those cheap stuffed animals to impress her and help seal the deal when it came to fooling around in the back of the Camaro afterwards. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him a little homesick.

“Billy, look,” Teddi said, excitedly grabbing his hand and squeezing it. She was pointing over at a ride called Dante’s Inferno. It was some tacky dark ride that Billy guessed was supposed to be some sort of torture chamber in hell. It had two levels to it, and a large, red demon that grinned down evilly at anyone approaching the ride. “We totally have to go on that. It’s so lame.” she laughed.

It was lame. The car was almost too small for the two of them. It had ratty old green seats and grotesque faces carved into the sides of it. Billy guessed it was enough to probably scare some kids, but it all looked almost comical to him. Teddi linked her arm with his tightly as the car took off with a jolt. Billy looked over at her, smiling at the nervous but somehow still excited expression on her face.

Billy didn’t really understand much of what they saw inside. There was a track of loud, howling wind and evil laughter playing on loop. Every few feet a generic, “scary” animatronic would light up and go off as they passed. Billy reached over and tickled Teddi on the side a few times, timing it with the animatronic to scare her. She fell for it each time, squealing and jumping before slapping his hands away. “You’re such an asshole.” she laughed, trying to squirm away from him.

They were both laughing as they stumbled away from the ride. Billy slowed to a stop, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the scene in front of him. “...Isn’t that your boss?” he asked, looking over at Teddi. She frowned and looked over. There was Keith standing over by the ticket booth. He was dressed as Jason Voorhees, shifting nervously and looking around as if he were looking for someone.

“Yeah...huh. I can’t believe he’s he-...oh my god. Is that Cheryl?” she didn’t need to ask. It was definitely Cheryl Burns. She was dressed as the Queen of Hearts. Her strawberry blonde hair was swaying back and forth as she sauntered over to Keith, giving him a seductive smile that Billy was all too familiar with before running her hands up Keith’s chest.

Billy and Teddi looked over at each other, speechless. “...Am I finally going insane, or does Cheryl Burns have her leg wrapped around Keith and her tongue down his throat?” Teddi asked, blinking wildly.

“Well...to be fair he’s probably the only guy in town that she hasn’t slept with,” he said, attempting to joke. He was way too weirded out to find it funny. “Forget the Mind Flayer, that is the weirdest thing I’m ever gonna see,” he said with a shudder. “...How come you don’t kiss me like that in public?”

Teddi let out a loud scoff, rolling her eyes and glaring over at Billy. “Why don’t I kiss you like your ex girlfriend?”

“Technically she was never my girl-” Teddi cut him off by putting her hand over his mouth.

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” she groaned.

Billy wrapped his arm around Teddi and pulled her close, burying his face in her neck. “C’mon, Larsson. You’re not allowed to be pissed at me tonight. It’s our anniversary.” he said with a grin.

Teddi raised her eyebrow, trying her best not to smile. “Oh is it?”

“Of course. Two years ago today you fell in love with me at Tina’s Halloween party, remember?” he turned Teddi around to face him, smirking down at her as his hands rested on her lower back.

Teddi couldn’t fight her smile anymore. She wrapped her arms around Billy’s neck, grinning up at him. “Technically I fell in love with the kissing. It took me a little while to fall in love with the rest of you.” she teased. If you asked Teddi the moment she’d fallen in love with Billy she wouldn’t be able to tell you. It felt like she had woken up one morning and realized she was in love with him.

“Technicalities,” he scoffed. Billy leaned down to kiss her, his hand weaving its way up through her hair. It was longer than it had been when they met, and it was back to its natural sandy color. Teddi smiled against his lips, pressing herself closer to him.

“Maybe you’re right,” she sighed happily. “God, I hate how charming you can be sometimes.” that was a lie. Teddi linked her fingers with Billy’s pulling him over to the colorful and brightly lit food stalls. The smell of funnel cake batter and powdered sugar was making Teddi’s mouth water.

“I was thinking...maybe we should go on a road trip,” Billy suggested after they had purchased their dessert. Teddi ripped a chunk of dough that was almost too big for her mouth and ate it. “We’ve been talking about it for awhile.” he reminded her.

Teddi eyed him carefully while she munched on her funnel cake. “Yeah, but where do you wanna go?”

Billy shrugged, taking a bite for himself. He licked the powdered sugar off his fingers while he thought. “...You let me worry about that part,” he finally said. He’d never been very good at lying to Teddi. The more simple the lie was the better the chance he had at keeping her off his trail. “What do you say, Larsson?”

Teddi didn’t take long to think it over. She didn’t need to. The two of them had been talking about taking a nice, long road trip for over a year. It was long overdue. Time for just the two of them. “Just tell me when,” she said with a shrug and a smile.

Teddi ended up convincing Billy to go on a few more of the rides. Each one seemed even cheesier than the last. They ate fair food until they nearly got sick, and took turns sneaking drinks from Billy’s flask. Billy won Teddi a small army of those tacky, cheap stuffed animals from the game stalls. On the way back to the car she could barely keep the large pumpkin, dracula, little devil and a genuinely creepy looking teddy bear in her arms.

“Thanks for going, Billy.” she mumbled sleepily, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Any time, Weird Girl,” he didn’t think she heard him. Teddi was already asleep, most likely from a sugar crash after all the junk food. Hawkins was pretty quiet. All of the trick or treaters had gone home for the night, and the only people Billy saw out and about where a few costumed adults stumbling out of house parties.

He pulled into the driveway of their little house, where the pumpkins they had carved were still glowing on the porch and got out of the car. Billy opened Teddi’s door, reaching over her to undo her seatbelt and easily picking her up. All of her prizes fell out of her arms and onto the floor of the Camaro. Except the evil looking teddy bear, Billy noticed with a groan. “C’mon, Larsson. Bed time.” he mumbled, carrying her inside.

Teddi took a deep breath in as she woke up, squinting as she took in her surroundings. “I gotta make a phone call, okay? You gonna be alright getting yourself in bed?” he asked. She rubbed the backs of her eyes roughly and nodded before he set her down. Billy disappeared into the living room. Teddi was too dazed to hear what he was saying on the phone or wonder who he was talking to.

She made quick work of changing into her pajamas, leaving her costume in a pile on the floor before crawling back into bed and hugging the bear Billy had won for her close. She was asleep again by the time Billy made his way back into their bedroom. Joyce had picked up on the second ring. Billy could hear Will and El in the background talking animatedly about some movie they were watching. When he told her his plan, Joyce had been all for it. She told him they could stay in Johnathan’s room for as long as they wanted since he was away at school, and she promised to keep it a secret from Teddi.

If you asked Billy the moment he’d fallen in love with Teddi he wouldn’t be able to tell you. One minute she was driving him up the wall and the next he felt like he’d do anything to keep her happy...she still could drive him up the wall. There wouldn’t be any changing that.

Billy changed and slid into bed next to Teddi. He grimaced down at the black teddy bear in her arms, with its red eyes and fanged smile, and wrapped his arm around Teddi’s middle. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Halloween, Teddi.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x oc

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lulusoblue · 6 years

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Things I like about the V/Urizen Revelation (Spoilers ahoy)

The last trailer for the game spoiled their “deaths” and we didn’t even know it until it happened

as @sir-adamus pointed out, V waited two whole days so he could introduce himself to Dante with a quote from a William Blake poem. even when it’s just Vergil’s humanity trying to right a wrong he’s gotta be petty and a showoff about it

Urizen going on a mass murder spree for power by utilising a demon hell vampire tree powered by blood really demonstrates how Vergil’s humanity is what kept him from crossing a line when he was whole. and sane.

The reason V looks different from Vergil is because, due to being Vergil’s human side, V takes his looks from Eva more, which makes sense.

Doubly amusing when you have an entity born from Vergil’s humanity interact with a demon made to look like the Sparda twins’ mother (and chide him with “I’m not your mommy V” even.)

Also sad since we know from V that he remembers Eva, so this interaction is also a small reminder that Eva is dead and gone for him.

Urizen using Trish for the Cavaliere Angelo boss demon, was that a nod to DMC1? Feels like it would have been a dig at Dante like “hey remember the last time you busted open the Angelo armour only to find a loved one in there?” except it didn’t work out because Trish was fine and Dante got a sweet motorbike out of it

I am ashamed with myself that I failed to catch on to V’s pets/familiars being DMC1 bosses, and then I was elated when I got to kick their asses again

This connection also makes sense as to why V knows about Dante defeating Geryon in DMC3, because Vergil would have known. Griffon knows because he exists from his connection to Vergil too, though whether it’s through V or from when he was an annoying ass boss in DMC1 i guess we don’t know.

The speculation about V also being a Son of Sparda was technically right

Did V clock on to Nero being Vergil’s/his son? like Vergil thanks Nero so presumably all the memories from V and Urizen carried over to Vergil when he was made whole again, so... god V you’re just as oblivious

Urizen is all Vergil’s demon side, all pursuit of power, and all ego. V is Vergil’s humanity, still wants power, but is without the ego, and V confirms the hints from DMC3 that if you stripped Vergil of said ego he’s just as big of a dork as Dante, leaning more towards a gothic dork than Dante’s cool dork

does Urizen even name himself? considering V is the only one naming him and even says “he’s your reason for fighting” does that mean V just came up with a name for Vergil’s demon side in the two days of rehearsing for his intro to Dante? he just mumbles “your reason” and it sounds like “urizen” and he smacks the table like “I GOT IT”

EDIT: apparently Urizen is also from a William Blake poem but I stand by this headcanon @sir-adamus

if so this means Urizen has such a goddamn ego he didn’t even bother to name himself, he’s just vampire tree guy, looking for power while sitting on his ass all day

Nightmare is V’s hairgel canon

V most likely picked up his book from their house at Red Grave, so him taking it as well as Vergil holding onto it when he’s back could imply that it’s sentimental to him. Vergil is a poetry nerd and his stupid ego keeps him from quoting stuff to be petty canon

#devil may cry 5 #devil may cry spoilers #devil may cry #nero must have been confused in that short time of revelation like #‘so Vergil is my dad... so V WAS my dad??? what IS today?’#and his conclusion is that he’s just gonna punch out his uncle

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buffyversefanfiction · 5 years

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Twisted Tristan

Chapter 2: Our City (Volume 2)

Warnings: I do not own or claim to own the original content to “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, “Angel”, the comics or any of the original characters from the “Buffyverse” all rights belong to Joss Whedon.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

Buffy, Faith and Willow just stood there in the underground sewer tunnels completely stunned by what had just happened as they tried to fathom the notion that Buffy’s baby boy was lost to a portal going somewhere that Willow couldn’t remember the location to.

“What do you mean you don’t know where the portal went too?” Faith asked the redheaded witch. “Can’t you just open it back up?”

“I can’t open up a portal if I don’t know where or even when I’m opening a portal to.” Willow revealed as tears formed in her eyes.

“You literally just went through the damn thing how could you have forgot the location and time already?” Faith quizzed her.

“She cast a spell so when the portal closed there’d be no way of anything coming after us to find him.” Buffy cried as tears fall down her cheeks. “He was never supposed to go through the portal alone.”

“There must be some way of tracking him.” Faith replied. “There must be some way of getting your boy back Buffy.”

“I could try a locating spell but there’s no telling if Tristan is even in this dimension.” Willow explained as tears began falling down her cheeks too, fearing she may have lost her nephew and taken Buffy’s son from her forever.

“So, he’s just gone?” Faith asked in complete disbelief to the situation as she looked over at a clearly broken Buffy.

Tristan and Faith walked into Tristan and Dante’s demonic dive bar side by side and instantly Faith could see all the customers’ eyes on her some demons looking at her with haters, some monsters looking at her with curiosity in their eyes and some vampires looking at her with simple hunger.

“I must admit I was a pretty big fan of your early work i.e. poisoning the vampire Angelus, torturing Buffy Summers and your work with Mayor Richard Wilkins albeit on the failed ascension.” Tristan said to her as the two of them walked over to the bar counter. “Last I heard anything from you there was a Buffy body swap and the end of Sunnydale which you had some kind of involvement with although rumor has it, you’re back playing on the good team these days.”

“See that right there is why I tend not to like keeping people alive I mean tongues can’t wag if they’ve been removed am I right?” Faith replied hoping Tristan would buy her bluff. “Word is out you the leader of this uprising in New York and I though I’d see if I could join the party.”

“An uprising you say,” Tristan responded with a stern poker face. “And just where did you here something of this topic?”

“You know as well as I do monsters just love to talk.” Faith lied.

“Yeah and so do slayers,” Tristan retorted. “Did she send you here?”

“Let me guess she is the big bad Buffy clearly your gossips are slow because her and me don’t get along something to do with me constantly trying to kill her and that one time I slept with her boyfriend.” Faith admitted to Tristan using the truth to her advantage.

“I was told you helped her defeat the first back when Sunnydale was still a town and not the second Grand Canyon.” Tristan revealed to try and suss Faith out.

“Here if I was fighting on team Sunnydale then there’d still be a Sunnydale.” Faith boasted.

“You make a rather fair point there,” Tristan said before ushering the vampire bartender to pour him and Faith shots leaving it on the bar counter in front of them both. “I’ve heard a lot about you mostly nothing as of late and I’m worried you won’t be able to keep up with let’s say current events.”

“Try me!” Faith replied before downing her shot and slamming the glass back down on the counter.

“Tell me Faith what is it that you want?” Tristan asked before taking his shot.

“A partnership of sorts one that I reckon you’d benefit from when Buffy does eventually come to town.” Faith revealed as Tristan placed his glass on the counter.

“I tend not to play very well with slayers in fact one could say I loathe your kind.” Tristan admitted to her.

“Yeah well if you ever want to take the biggest baddest slayer down then your going to need me on side because trust me when I say Buffy’s a hard kill and even when you do kill her she has this annoying little tendency to come back from the dead.” Faith said trying to make Tristan see he needed her on his team.

“Don’t mean this as a dig because I do admire your previous work but me aligning myself with someone who tried and failed to take Buffy down makes absolutely no sense.” Tristan told her while ushering his vampire bartender to refill their shot glasses. “I reckon I’d be successful taking her down without any assistance.”

“I was that stupid once too,” Faith laughed before downing her second shit. “That kind of stupidity gets your ass in a coma actually it got my ass in multiple comas. You may think you’ve got your shit together, but Buffy really is something else there’s a reason she’s considered the best whether I like to admit it or not.”

“Yeah well she hasn’t met me yet.” Tristan replied smugly before downing his second shot as his lover Dante appeared from the back of the bar immediately noticing Tristan drinking with Faith.

“Tristan it can’t hurt to have another on your side you know I’d never doubt you but Faith clearly has more experience in this particular field and we can’t be missing an opportunity to work alongside a slayer while we set out to wipe this world of all slayers.” Dante butted in making it clear he was keen to have Faith on side.

“My boyfriend speaks sense,” Tristan admitted to Faith. “But the thing is I don’t trust you.”

“You’d be wise not trusting me kid in fact you’d be wise not trusting anyone but like your lover told you I’m your best shot at taking B down when she comes to New York.” Faith put it rather bluntly.

“I say we let her live and if she doesn’t live up to her reputation then we kill her.” Dante suggested to Tristan.

“Fine!” Tristan reluctantly agreed.

After a few more drinks at Tristan and Dante’s demonic dive bar Tristan decided to take Faith out for a walk and by this time day had once again became night as they continued walking through the city before walking down a dark alleyway together neither resistant of the other, each probably certain they could take the other with only one of them going to be right if it came to that.

“So, why have you been living so bloody quietly all this time?” Tristan asked her.

“Honestly recovering from my last showdown with Buffy it may make me sound like a little bitch, but that girl took a lot out of me.” Faith told him as they continued to walk further down the alleyway.

“You see I’ve never had any issue killing anyone it’s so easy to me that I eagerly await with anticipation the day someone actually proves them to be a challenge.” Tristan openly admitted to the slayer. “Dante often thinks I’m a fool for not fearing her but in truth I long for a fight where my victory isn’t totally guaranteed.”

“Well Buffy’s quite the opponent she has taken down everything that’s got in her path and we’re talking The Master, Angelus, The Mayor, some cyborg dude, a freaking god, her own wicked best friend and let us not forget the first freaking evil.” Faith reminded him.

“You really do amuse me Faith.” Tristan said with a sinister laugh as a group of vampires began to appear from out of the shadows circling the two of them. “However, I can’t help but feel this fear of her has made you weak so consider this a challenge being set. Kill everyone of these vampires then join me back at the bar for a drink and I will question you no further and if they kill you then I guess they’re the ones who will be having that drink.”

“All your going to have is a bunch of dusted lackeys.” Faith told him as she looked around at the vampires circling her knowing she could take them.

“Don’t worry all of these vampires are completely expendable to me I never use the best for such trivial experiments.” Tristan admitted.

“Okay now I’m offended.” Faith retorted before changing towards the vampires in front of her.

Faith stormed back into the demonic dive bar about an hour later after being set a trap by Tristan to find Dante and Tristan behind the bar passionately kissing only to stop upon her arrival.

“Next time you want to give me a test kid make sure it’s worth my while.” Faith said to Tristan as she walked over to the counter.

“Well it was definitely worth my time no mediocre slayer would’ve came out of that alleyway alive.” Tristan replied to her making it clear he was impressed.

“Did you seriously try to get her killed?” Dante asked his lover making clear he wasn’t in on Tristan’s plans. “We’ve made an alliance with her which means you can’t go around trying to kill her not while the alliance stands anyways.”

“She’s still alive isn’t she if I wanted her dead, I would’ve seen to it myself I was simply just testing the woman.” Tristan told Dante sternly neither lover impressed with the other.

“I totally get it I would’ve tested me out too if I were in your shoes.” Faith admitted trying to break the ice between the vampire and his slayer loathing lover.

“You might actually become the first slayer on this earth I don’t actually want to see dead.” Tristan complimented her before his three vampire minions came bursting through the door holding a bloody and barely conscious girl between them immediately making Faith panic for the defenseless girl.

“Now what do we have here boys?” Dante asked his minions while Faith tried to remain cool.

“Another slayer,” One of them replied while another looked at Tristan and asked. “Shall we prepare the darts boss?”

“Yes,” Tristan answered them before looking at Faith sinisterly. “I say we let my new acquaintance pick out the poison for this beauty.”

“Poison?” Faith wondered while fearing the answer.

“You’re going to love this game!” Tristan said sadistically with an excited smile on his face.

Following her ordeal with Tristan and Dante, Faith returned to her motel room only to find Angel sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her as she walked in.

“You took your time checking in I was beginning to get worried.” Angel admitted to Faith as he stood up to face her.

“Yeah well as it turns out this particular operation is very hands on.” Faith replied. “You know I hate to be that girl but I kind of like this Tristan guy I mean I know he’s a raging psychopath with some serious slayer issues but other than that he seems pretty cool to hang with.”

“Does that mean you’ve earned their trust then or am I having to worry about you now.” Angel joked with her.

“Yeah but they’re currently torturing the hell out of a slayer while we’re stood here talking so I guess it’s time to switch up the game plan.” Faith revealed to him.

“How did they get their hands on another slayer so quickly?” He asked her. “You don’t think they could be setting up a trap.”

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised if they were testing me with this slayer but unless we act fast an innocent girl could very well be about to die.” Faith warned the vampire with a soul.

“You’ve come a long way faith.” Angel said with a smile, proud of his friend.

“I told some lie about needing to change after dusting vamps so I don’t really have much time before I need to head back so in the mean time you need to call for some back up because something tells me your right about them being hard work.” Faith told him. “Even if the lovers aren’t, they’ve got a bar full of creatures ready to back them up.”

“Good plan but Faith please promise me you’ll be careful.” Angel replied to her.

“I always am.” She answered knowing her words were untrue.

Following her de-brief with Angel, Faith returned to the demonic bar fearing what she could be walking into only to be left horrified upon arriving as she found Tristan throwing darts onto his latest dartboard the tied-up girl from earlier.

“Who sent you?” He asked before launching another dart into the girl’s chest causing her to scream.

“Nobody sent me I promise,” The girl cried. “Please just let me go I won’t tell anyone.”

Faith stood there reluctantly watching as Tristan threw another dart at the girl this time the dart launching into her leg as her screams clearly amused the troubled raven-haired man.

“You’ll have to forgive us for not waiting for you,” Dante said to Faith as he walked over to greet her. “Tristan tends to get carried away with himself sometimes and the customers just love it when he lets his hair down.”

“I bet they do.” Faith replied while looking over at Tristan who clocks her and walks over to the undercover slayer.

“Would you like a shot?” Tristan asked while holding out a dart in Faith’s direction.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Faith responded before taking the dart off Tristan and walking towards the injured girl.

She stood in front of the human dartboard for a second in disbelief over the situation she had found herself in before spinning around and changing direction as she threw the dart towards Tristan who quickly caught it in his hand stopping it from hitting his head.

“I guess Buffy really did break you more than you let on.” Tristan said with a disappointed sigh before throwing the dart to the ground. “Oh well I guess I’ll just have to kill you after all.”

Just as Tristan, Dante and their customers began circling her Angel burst through the front door instantly staking two of the three vampire minions before taking down the third leaving nothing but the dust of Tristan’s minions.

“Good,” Tristan replied with excitement while looking over at Angel. “You brought back up.”

Faith and Angel instantly began fighting their way through the crowd of demons, vampires and monsters killing whatever came in their way while Dante grabbed a hold of Tristan and started dragging him towards the exit clearly eager to flee the scene.

“What the bloody hell are you playing at?” Tristan asked while pushing Dante away. “Things are just starting to get interesting around here.”

“Tristan that’s bloody Angelus.” Dante snapped at his lover while Faith and Angel continued to slay, beat and murder their way through Tristan and Dante’s customers.

“That’s exactly why we should stay.” Tristan replied as Illyria burst through the front door grabbing a vampire’s head with both hands before decapitating the female vampire with her bare hands causing the vampire to turn to dust as Dante looked on in horror at the goddess effortless brutality.

“That’s Illyria.” Dante revealed while trembling in fear.

“Okay now we can run.” Tristan gave in as the two of them ran out through the back of bar which Faith noticed and decided to chase after them.

“You don’t have to go with him Tristan.” Faith shouted after following Tristan and his vampire boyfriend out into the alleyway in which Faith and Tristan first met.

“I’m with him because I want to be I’m on the right side here Faith it’s a shame you’re not with us it really is but there’s no redeeming me nor do I understand why anyone would want to when I’m perfect just the way I am.” Tristan replied to her.

“Okay that’s fair enough can’t say I didn’t offer but before I kill you before tell me what the bloody hell are you?” Faith asked him eager to know the answer.

“Your asking the wrong question Faith you shouldn’t be asking me what I am you should be asking me who I am.” He revealed to her leaving her confused over what was the meaning behind those words.

Faith, Angel and Illyria walked back into Faith’s motel room after a successful night of slaying demons, dusting vampires and killing as many enemies as possible and although Faith was glad to save the girl and cut down Dante and Tristan’s army she could help but think about what Tristan had said while frustrated she didn’t manage to get them both.

“That girl was nothing more than your average blood bag,” Illyria scoffed. “It would only take a second to see now power resided within her.”

“Well blue I was kind of busy trying to save her to evaluate her.” Faith replied before throwing herself down on her motel bed.

“If you sense her power what did you sense from Tristan?” Angel asked the blue haired goddess.

“Power a lot of which still dormant but more power than your average human,” Illyria explained to them both. “The raven-haired man is no slayer or blood sucker, but he is something I recognize but just can’t quite work it out, yet his concubine however is just your average blood sucker nothing particularly impressive about him.”

“Except for Dante’s lineage.” Angel said to which Illyria scoffed at. “So, what the bloody hell is Tristan then?”

“That’s not the question we should be asking though,” Faith revealed to them both as she sat up on the edge of her bed. “We don’t need to find out what he is we need to find out who he is.”

Tristan and Dante walked back into the remains of their demonic dive bar only to see the destruction left by Faith, Angel and Illyria as bodies of monsters and dust from killed vampires lay scattered across the floor leaving them both furious to see the state of their once thriving empire.

“So, a slayer, a vampire and a goddess walk into a bar.” Tristan joked.

“This is not funny Tristan we could’ve wound up dead tonight if we stayed here any longer.” Dante told him in a bid to try and make Tristan see some sense.

“You’re exaggerating there a little babe,” Tristan replied. “So, I underestimated her and didn’t expect her to have back up especially not the kind of back up she came with, but we are far from down and out.”

“Tristan if we go up against them again, we’ll wind up dead.” Dante warned his overconfident lover. “I love you Tristan and it’s that love for you that stops me from wanting to see you dead.”

“And I love you too Dante,” Tristan responded before kissing his boyfriend. “But I’d never love a coward so don’t start acting like one now. I need this fight whether I win or lose I need it.”

“Oh, what the hell,” Dante sighed before kissing Tristan once again. “If we’re going to go out, we may as well go out in style.”

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etlunainmorte · 5 years

Text

🖤 I See My Future Before Me 🖤

***

At last, you were holding onto the discarded mask of a Death Scissor that you’ve slain as proof that you’re worthy to work as Dante’s partner. The man just could not be convinced, saying that he worked alone and that he had no plans of hiring an assistant.

But, here you were, determined to the bone to get hired. You really needed Dante. You knew it was very selfish on your part to actually admit it but, you had no other choice.

And so, with a deep breath, you opened the door and,…

… immediately closed it, unable to process what you just saw inside.

You deeply sighed, feeling your confidence leave your body.

Yes, you were very proud of your achievement, and you just couldn’t wait to show it to Dante.

But, it seemed that he had different things in mind.

You were about to walk away from the building, not once looking back, when the door suddenly burst open. Out came Dante, who clearly looked both embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. He grabbed your right arm and made you look at him.

“Didn’t your mother teach you how to knock?!” he yelled at you, gaining the attention of the people nearby.

You drew back, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry.” you sarcastically blurted out. “The sign says you’re open for business!” you took your arm off his grasp and rubbed it. “Didn’t have the slightest idea that you’re open for something else!”

“You - ”

“Dante, where are you?! We’re not done yet!” came the voice of the woman from within the building, making you cringe.

“I’m sorry for barging in, sir.” you went on with your sarcasm, still not able to rinse your eyes off the sight that you witnessed earlier. “I’ll just tell Morrison that you were busy and that I covered for you.”

“Don’t you dare!” warned Dante in a low voice, trying to avoid the prying eyes of his annoying neighbors.

You gave him an evil smirk. An idea just sparked inside your head.

“No, really. It’s okay.” you pressed on with your act. “I’m sure Morrison would understand.”

“Dante!” the woman inside the building playfully whined. The man began sweating nervously.

While it was true that Dante was supposed to be the one who must take on the small Demon - slaying job, it was also true that he declined it, saying that he had better things to do than perform small time requests.

And while it was also true that you volunteered to cover up for him in exchange for your coveted job, it was definitely a lie that Morrison knew anything about your proposition. You just couldn’t help but tease the man as revenge for unintentionally stealing what’s left of your innocence.

“I must go now.” you said to Dante, who couldn’t say anything. “I have to talk with Morrison and - ”

“Okay, you’re hired.” Dante announced in a heartbeat, making your eyes widen in surprise.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yes! Yes! You win!” Dante finally surrendered. “You’ll be my assistant from now on. On one condition.”

“And that is?” you asked him, crossing your arms and fearlessly looking up at him.

“Our relationship would purely be professional. No one would ever belong to anyone. Got it?”

You chuckled at his proposal. “That’s it?”

“And you’ll wash the dishes, clean the building, answer the phone, pay the - ”

“I’m your assistant. Naturally, I’ll do those things for you.” you cut him off. “Except pay for the bills. You’re the boss here, Dante. Not me. And you have the money.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” The man nodded in defeat. You smiled and gave him the mask you obtained on your small job.

“Are we good?” Dante asked, still worried about what you might do or say to the Broker.

You winked at him and walked away. “Sure.”

***

XII

***

youtube

“My love must be some kind of blind love.

I can’t see anyone but you.”

You were staring at the Death Scissor mask - like thing that V placed on top of the table for who knows how long, until someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hon, we’re leaving now.” Nico told you, her face looking strangely and uncharacteristically serious.

“Huh?” You mumbled, your head still in the clouds.

“Are the stars out tonight?

I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright.

I only have eyes for you, dear.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be back in a heartbeat.” She said as she handed Nero his new breaker. She turned to V, who was sitting on the sofa across you. “We leave her to you, man.”

The mysterious one, who changed back to his old clothes of black, leather vest and equally dark pair of cargo pants, nodded, the look on his eyes as serious as ever. “I’ll guard her with my life.”

Nico nodded, fully trusting V to protect you once more. She turned to Nero and gave him the go signal.

And, with that, they’re gone, leaving you alone with V once more.

“The moon may be high,

But I can’t see a thing in the sky.

I only have eyes for you.

I don’t know if we’re in a garden,

Or on a crowded avenue.

You’re here and so am I.

Maybe millions of people go by.

And they all disappear from view.

And I only have eyes for you.”

The place was really quiet, save for the sound of the radio, which either played an old song from the seventies, or someone else’s cheesy request. But, most of the time, some announcer with a sleep - inducing voice would announce the current situation regarding the Demonic infestation, the nationwide evacuation, and, of course, the Dreadnought.

You looked to your right as V went closer towards the passenger’s seat to turn up the volume of the radio in curiosity.

“The nationwide evacuation ensues, this time, with the help of the Devil Hunters commissioned by the head of the Fleminger House of Red Grave.�� The male announcer droned on like an old professor reading an age - old historical text in front of an empty classroom. “With the combined forces of Fleminger’s finest warriors and the nation’s Military, the Demons, which,…”

V’s eyes widened a bit as he heard a soft thud behind him. He turned around and saw you collapsed on the sofa, asleep. He sighed, turned the volume of the radio to the minimum, and went towards you, utterly careful in his steps so as not to wake you up.

All of a sudden, some of the dark markings on his skin vanished as Shadow materialized. She trotted towards you, her lithe body making little to no noise, and sniffed you, seemingly trying to check if you’re alright. V noticed this very unprecedented action of his familiar, and was actually not surprised that she approved of you with a curt nod towards him and a subtle squint of her eyes.

“Good girl.” V whispered, his voice so low and hoarse that it almost sounded foreign to him.

After much deliberation with his own conflicting thoughts, he took the liberty of taking a seat at the edge of the sofa where you slept and decided to watch you as you dreamed.

In a space of a few moments, he saw you turn, curl your lip, and furrow your eyebrows, which he found really amusing, interesting, and oddly satisfying all at the same time. Your erratic sleeping movements told him that you were, indeed, dreaming, and that your soft voice -

“D - ” V heard you mutter. He leaned in closer towards you to hear what you were saying. “D - d - ”

D? V thought. Was she dreaming of Dante?

“D - don’t,… leave,…” He leaned in a bit closer, if that was even possible, that he was already feeling your warm breath against his face. “S - stay, please. Stay w - with me,…

… V.”

His eyes widened, his jaw dropped. V could not quite believe that you just uttered his name! And, what’s even more alarming was the fact that his chest almost brushed against yours. His hands were on either side of your head, and your intoxicating scent sent signals down to his very core.

Signals,…

… that were very hard to ignore.

He looked down at your form, which was only covered by the mere coat that he draped over you to protect your modesty, and felt something stir within his heart.

He knew it was very wrong of him to take advantage of you this way. After all, Nico trusted him to take care of you while she and Nero were away on a little scouting mission outside the mansion.

But, you two were alone. Plus, Griffon was not coming out to make a scene. If he could -

Before his thoughts could further take over his senses to make him totally lose his sanity over you, V pulled away immediately, standing as far away from the sofa, and you, as possible. You deserved his protection, not his lust. How could he call himself a gentleman if he goes like this every time he sets his eyes on you? Or, let alone, inhale your strange, addictive scent?

With a deep, disappointed sigh, he walked away, opening the door of the van and going out to catch some fresh air and calm his senses, leaving Shadow alone with you.

He was about to sit on an abandoned chair near the van to read his book when he felt a pair of sharp eyes directed towards him. He looked up, and there, right outside the smashed window, was the Master of the house, himself. His lips twisted into a strange looking smile as he beckoned for V to come closer.

He turned towards the vehicle. He knew Shadow would protect you should something go wrong once more, and if the situation called for it, he would have no qualms, whatsoever, to summon the golem again.

He looked back towards the vicinity of the smashed window and proceeded there with caution. And when he was finally outside, he found the Master waiting for him at the balcony where he had his very first waltz with you.

“There’s no need for caution.” The Master began. “The Demons would only come out at night. It’s almost dawn.”

“And why should I believe you?” V questioned the man.

The Master gave him that strange, twisted smile once more. “Well, let’s just say that I know things that most of you don’t.”

V forcefully tapped his cane against the ground, fighting the urge to summon Griffon, and tipped his head to the side, having no intention to show any sign of fear or weakness.

“You knew for a fact that the Demon originated from the North.” V spoke, carefully choosing his words in the face of this very untrustworthy man. “It seems that,… you knew too much,… for your own good.”

“Most of the time, I just pray to the gods to bring back the time when I was still a foolish and naïve boy.”

V watched with wary eyes how the Master of the house situated himself near the railing, leaning on it and crossing his arms. Despite his bulky figure, the man sure moved with flair.

The Master turned his gaze towards the interior of the wrecked ballroom, directing V’s sight.

“Curious thing, this Dreadnought is.” The Master quietly said, his words easily hard to miss should one fail to listen carefully. “Rising from the depths of the Underworld, itself, laying waste to everything it laid its eyes upon, then going back to hibernation for a hundred years. Only to wake up once more to wreak havoc in the present.”

“What is this Demon?” V questioned, walking closer towards the man and blocking his sight from the vicinity of the van at the same time. “And how do we destroy it?”

“My Lord, are you aware of the tragedy of Fortuna?” Getting no response from V, who only looked at him in suspicion, the Master went on. “A Demon laid waste on a house full of orphans, mutilating them, and sparing no one. Now, despite the assumption that nobody survived that onslaught, my ancestor, my grandmother to be exact, actually lived to tell the tale.

"She moved away from Fortuna, starting a different life here in this city, and forgetting the nightmare that occurred in the past. However, the faces of the helpless orphans haunted her until her last day on this world.

"But, today, it seems that her nightmare has awoken.”

“So, it seems.” V said in a sarcastic manner that was missed by the Master.

The man smiled and nodded towards the ballroom once more. “I will give you a valuable advice for defeating the Dreadnought.” Satisfied that he caught V’s attention, he smiled in that twisted way once more and spoke. “You know how some pleasant things send so many different kinds of sensations all throughout the body. I suggest blocking all of them all the same.”

The Master of the house left the railing and turned away from V.

“It’s best to know what is truth, and what is not.”

And with those final words, the man finally left, leaving V with more questions than answers.

***

🖤🖤🖤

***

#devil may cry 5 #vitale sparda #i see my future before me #v x reader #v x you #chapter 12 #the suspiscious advice #revised

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nanoland · 3 years

Text

mazikeen/eve/michael fic in progress

title: Ponder on the Narrow House

fandom: Lucifer

characters: Mazikeen, Eve, Michael

blurb: In which Mazikeen isn't finished with Michael yet.

warnings: Spoilers for Season 5.

In 2019, Fodor’s had crowned LAX the worst airport on Planet Earth, comparing it – much to Mazikeen’s amusement – to Dante Alighieri’s Hell.

She couldn’t comment on the comparison’s accuracy; she’d never read Divina Comedia. Human poetry bored her.

Up against the real thing, however? Hell was quieter, cleaner, and smelt better than Los Angeles International, and it wasn’t even close.

Yet there he was, leaning against the wall, watching the bustling crowd with a faint smile on his face, like a man in the park resting his eyes on the ducks. Perfectly content.

“Do you know,” he said as she approached him, “that around forty percent of all humans are scared of flying?”

His jaw clenched and she knew exactly what he was thinking: ‘That should have been me.’

“They’re afraid of you.”

“Bullshit.”

Ugliness flared behind his eyes. “Seriously? Now you’re being nice? Lucifer sent his general to console me? Ha! That’s how pitiful he thinks I am?”

“Pfft – no. Lucifer doesn’t give a crap about you. I’m here because I wanna offer you a job, moron.”

“A… job.”

“Yep. Ever heard of ‘bounty-hunting’?”

He nodded. Slowly. Smirking, she pushed off the wall and twirled on her six-inch heels to face him.

��Here’s the thing, o Angel of Dread; I’ve spent centuries in Hell learning how to terrify people. I look at you and you know what I see? Potential. Sure, you’re rough around the edges. Still got some celestial baby fat clinging to you. Still a little squeamish when it comes to certain tricks of the trade. But Mikey, honey, six months under my tutelage and I think we can turn you into a bona fide fucking nightmare.”