#dmc fire hell

[apocalypta-secundus]

Lyn has two demon cohorts, they often follow in the shadows and come out at night to help slay demons that are in the way. They both have different motives.

Himiko hates what she is and is looking for revenge. She's great with a shamisen and will sometimes play it for the two. Her Blood Demon Art is related to Ice and Water.

Kiyoko is looking for her brother, who is also a demon, but she has not found him yet. She carries a flute made out of bone, she's not the best at playing, but she does what she can. Her Blood Demon Art is Bone related.

It's rumored even Lyn herself is a demon, when she really isn't. She just has bouts of bloodlust and uses that against demons. There are also rumors that she'll even eat demons... She'll bite just about anything, so this rumor could be true. Her Breathing Technique is related to metal.

(Would love to make an AU of all three of them being demons, though, that'd be cool.)

And then there's Requiem, a fiery red-headed demon from another universe who looks down on the human looking demons. Despite the fact, she hides as a human and actually gets along with them just fine. She's not affected by the sun because... well, Devil May Cry demons certainly aren't. Her true form is a Fire Hell Centaur, and she's about 26 feet tall. With her size, she could trample and destroy whole villages. Blood Demon Art is of Hell Fire, and she can create a sword out of molten... ground.

Lyn, Kiyoko and Requiem have verses in Demon Slayer. Himiko is an OC made for Demon Slayer.

[mariyekos]

New DMC Anime Trailer Breakdown, Part 1

Okay so thoughts on the new DMC Anime trailer, which you can see here:

Putting things under the cut!

First things first, it's definitely going to at least take a few things from the DMC3 manga.

Second: It at least uses CGI in part....but more than that, on rewatching it... Are those Agni and Rudra!? Which means it also covers DMC3 in part.

Other fun things to note- I'm not sure if Dante's plate is a reference to anything, but he does have New York plates, so we can assume this DMC takes place in the US, even if the games are ambiguously sort of British/European based on architecture and director commentary.

Going to be honest- I'm not sure if these guys are a reference to anything. If they are, it's going over my head, but I could definitely see them just being generic bad guys/hunters.

Rebellion looks nice here! Also, looks like we're continuing the tradition of Dante getting attacked at his shop, because with a Pool table, jukebox, and the posters on the wall, I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be Dante's shop. Fun that we get a shot of him without his coat too, though he must put it on at another point since he has it in the above shots.

Then we have the exploding plane scene, which afaik is new but also feels very DMC. RIP the other people in that airplane though. Still, I like how wacky and over the top it is!

We also have a demon in the background of this shot...

And someone I'm preeety sure is Enzo (from the DMC3 Manga and Bayonetta!) Although on second glance, this guy looks like he might be blond, which Enzo is not. Still, it could just be a design choice they went with.

Following that is a shot of....probably not Jester because of the short nose, but something I'm sure is connected to Arkham in some way. I want to say they wouldn't get rid of his face scar, so I'm banking on there being a plotline related to Arkham having multiple minions Dante has to take down.

The giant hell portal in the sky isn't super special. We see it in both DMC3 and the old DMC anime, after all.

Then water guy...who I also don't remember as an enemy tbh. Could be new, could be my bad memory showing face. But he's a cyclops with axe hands which is interesting.

Dante's bullets are engraved with Jackpot which I find hilarious but also cool. Just imagining him using magic/demonic power to carve that in is great. I do wonder if they're going to have him reload though? Ebony and Ivory generally use magic bullets as far as I remember, but I know Coyote-A ejects shells. This bullet is shot from Ivory though.

EDIT: Looking at it again, these guns aren't Ebony and Ivory. They're both white/grey. Assuming this isn't them being lazy/an animation error, it might be that this is a real bullet...that he engraved using magic or just special gun stuff instead of just making the bullet itself from magic. I am not interested in guns in real life, but I think guns are supposed to have a function where they leave a mark on the bullets they fire so you can identify which gun shot the bullet? So it could be a human-made modification too.

Then there's the demon he shoots, which I think is a reference to Alice and the demons from the DMC3 manga (and a nice reference to the Sin Scissors and other beings that you can get the kill on with a bullet to the mask).

Not totally sure what the thing Dante shoots is, but it looks to be some sort of pendant. Is it some possessed thing that the girl has? Not super important though, because WHY IS ECHIDNA FROM DMC4 HERE?! Not upset, just surprised. Didn't notice this in my first watch.

After that we get Dante saving a girl from a... car? train? Something getting thrown into a diner that reminds me of the one from the old DMC anime, so here's me hoping we might get some fun downtime scenes like we did in that show. Maybe we'll see a strawberry sundae :)

Actually wait-

STRAWBERRY SUNDAE IDENTIFIED! Also I don't have a picture of her on hand, but is this maybe the waitress from that anime? A younger version? I'll look for a picture later, but for the sake of getting this out earlier than later, I'll just say I'm pretty sure she was a redhead too.

EDIT: Rewatching the trailer, the blue cyclops demon from before is in front of a sign that I'm pretty sure is supposed to say Freddie's Diner like in the OG Anime, so I'm going with the waitress being the same woman or otherwise related.

After that we get what looks to be a human that turned into a demon. My bet is that this guy was always a demon who was pretending to be human, but I think it could be interesting if there was a plotline about Arkham transforming humans into demons while trying to achieve godhood.

And hey look, Dante has what looks to be a stab mark through his chest and a hole in his shirt :) i bet this boy is getting stabbed through the chest, let's gooooo!

EDIT: Back, so I'll continue.

On second glance- wait, these guns are both gray, which means they aren't Ebony and Ivory. I'm putting my money into the DMC3 anime including Dante meeting Nell rather than this being an animation/coloring error.

Aaaand I hit the image limit, darn. Part 2 can be found here.

[dylan-o-yumm]

Little Moments - Leon S. Kennedy/reader

It has been a hot minute... I’m sorry I’m not making an amazing come back with DMC or Nero content, but hey at least it's still Capcom? Anyway, Leon is babygirl 

Also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46338547

Words: 6.6k Summary: Leon rescued both you and Ashley from the events of RE4, now the thereof you are "relaxing" in a hotel, unwinding before Leon has to take you both home in the morning.

Part 1, Part 2

“I could sleep for a year.”

“Just a year? Rookie numbers.”

“Are you guys kidding me? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink after everything I’ve seen over the last few days.” Ashley wrapped her arms around herself and looked wearily around the cozy hotel room, as if a crazy, plaga-infected Spanish person was going to jump out from the shadows. You couldn’t blame her for being so on edge, you’d be the same if Leon wasn’t there with you.

Ashley was the president's daughter and you were… just someone who was in that damn village at the wrong damn time. Leon was a special agent of some sort, somebody the president sent to find his daughter— but Leon just so happened to find you first. He saved you. And then he saved you again. And again, and again. No matter what happened, you knew Leon would be there like a knight in shining armor.

He made you feel safe but, the poor guy looked like shit and needed to finally rest. He had done so much work, busted his ass for— fuck, was it really only a day? Two days? You can’t remember how long you were there, let alone how long Leon was there looking for Ashley — and by proxy, you as well.

“Ash, it’s fine. We’re out of the village now. And even if some of the Iluminados freaks managed to escape, well… you saw how they were after their lord and savior kicked the bucket.” You turned to face Leon, gesturing for a little reassurance to come from him. Hopefully hearing it come from Leon would calm Ashley’s nerves somewhat.

Leon blinked and his lips parted as if he hadn’t been listening to a single word that had been said since he commented on how you wanted to sleep for a year. However he snapped back to hero mode rather quickly, looking around the room while he stretched his back muscles.

“I’ll stay up and make sure you’re safe. My job isn’t done yet.”

You and Ashley both shared a look.

“I think out of all of us, you need sleep the most, Leon.” Ashley told him with a concerned look on her face and you nodded in agreement. You opened your mouth to add your insight but Leon raised his hand to stop you, already knowing that you were going to demand that he sleep before you knock him out with a frying pan.

“I dozed off a few times at the village, I’ll be fine.” He shrugged as if it really didn’t bother him but you could see the exhaustion all over his face and in his shoulders, his muscles. Hell he had an aura around him that beamed like a bright neon sign that made you tired just by looking at him.

“It’s just one night. I’ll take you both home tomorrow and then I can go home and sleep for as long as I want, how’s that sound?”

“Leon…” Ashley sighed but you beat her to the punch.

“I’m too tired to argue. Just, at least sit down or something. I’ll make you some coffee,” you sighed and rubbed your forehead where a sharp headache started to irritate you. You dealt with too many loud noises; explosions, gunshots, too many bright lights from flash grenades and fires from molotovs, and the screaming and yelling of the Illuminados or Ashley or yourself. Everything from that damn village and the island, up until the point of getting out of the ocean after a long, loud and bumpy ride on a jet ski, was all building up into one big headache.

Leon didn’t have anything else to say after that, opting to do as you said and taking a seat on the couch by the window. You moved to the small kitchen and started boiling water while Ashley said she was going to go have a shower.

The three of you were still pretty filthy. The ocean water washed some of the grime off, but the stench still lingered and you all had scrapes, cuts and bruises. Your body ached from all the running around and getting thrown about and whacked and hit and kicked by the crazy villagers. Leon took the brunt of it all though, which is why you were worried about him the most. He really needed to rest. For a week. Or in your words; a year.

You all did.

Once the coffee was made, you brought a mug out for Leon, pausing for a moment to watch as he yawned so intensely his eyes started watering. Though, when he noticed you looking at him, he quickly shut his mouth and rubbed his eyes, pretending he hadn’t just been fighting off the urge to sleep. He gave you a little half smile and went back to unwrapping the bandage from his arm to check one of his many wounds.

You could have teased him for yawning, you could have angrily told him to get some sleep. But you didn’t.

“Need any stitching up?” You asked as you placed his mug on the coffee table in front of him, holding a second mug in your hand and moving it to your lap as you sat down on the couch beside him. The heat from the mug warmed your hands and made you feel more at ease.

”No. I could do with a good massage though,” he replied with a small grunt, rolling his shoulder out and you got a good look at his bicep. There was a scratch from an ax being thrown at him that, thankfully, only just nicked him. A long, but thankfully, not deep gash from his battle against Saddler. And finally a large bruise that spanned from his shoulder down to his elbow in an odd splotchy pattern. You weren’t sure what that one was from but you could take at least a dozen guesses.

You weren’t sure if he was asking you to give him a massage or not— he sure did like his cheesy one-liners and little quips, maybe this was one of them?

“Get in line, buddy. I don’t think I’ll physically be able to get out of bed in the morning,” yeah, that was a good common ground to avoid any confusion and possible embarrassment.

“It will be tough, yeah…” you could tell he was speaking from experience. How many crazy missions like this had this poor man been through? “You handled yourself well out there. I want you to know that.”

He turned his gaze to your direction but he didn’t quite meet your eye. He sounded genuine though and it made your heart skip a beat.

“You mean by… running, hiding, screaming. Oh yeah I handled myself very well,” you chuckled sarcastically and brought your cup of coffee to your lips, taking a sip.

“Hey, just because you didn’t kill anything, doesn’t mean you weren’t tough or brave,” now he finally met your eye. His own eyes, so incredibly blue that it was hard to remember them glossing over and turning a dull red from the plagas only a few hours ago.

Was that a few hours ago? It felt like it had been days since that happened.

You didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully Leon spoke up again before you could.

“Are you drinking coffee?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re not trying to stay awake, are you?”

“I don’t think even coffee could help me stay awake at this point.” Was it a lie? No. Was it a small truth that you admitted so that you didn’t have to reveal the big truth? Possibly. You were definitely too tired for coffee to keep you awake, but you were also trying to stay awake, at least a little longer, so that Leon wouldn’t have to suffer through the night alone. You couldn’t imagine what kind of thoughts he must have when it got quiet, when he wasn’t busying himself by running around castles or villages, or killing monsters.

You were tired. But so was Leon and this was the least you could do for him… You just couldn’t tell him that’s what you were doing, or he would probably knock your ass out.

You’re not a fighter. You’re not a cool secret agent with gadgets, nor were you a military trained soldier who could turn anything into a weapon. You couldn’t do the things Leon could do, you couldn’t protect him, you couldn’t save him from monsters…

Staying awake for a night just to keep him company so that he didn’t have to suffer alone? It wasn’t grand, it was nothing like the magnitude of favors and rescues he had done for you over the last however many days. But it was something. You couldn’t really do much else.

Maybe you should give him that damn massage.

“So why are you doing all of this, Leon?” You asked, wanting to change the subject so he wouldn’t figure out your little plan. He raised an eyebrow at you over his cup of coffee and you elaborated. “You came to the village because of the president's orders, right? To save Ashley… So what made you want to work for the president of all people? Or is that classified information?” You teased, knowing damn well it could definitely be very classified.

Leon chuckled.

“It’s a little classified, yeah. But I will tell you that… I met a girl a few years ago. And I want to make sure she’s safe,” he nodded softly to himself, as if reminding himself why he just went through all the horrors of the village. His already soft features softened even more as he thought about this girl.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“I think that’s illegal considering she’s a child,” he smirked slightly, as you looked down at your lap in embarrassment. “She escaped Raccoon City with me and another woman named Claire.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” You asked again, emphasis on the ‘she’ and a little teasing smile on your lips.

“Suddenly interested in my love life, huh?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be a good wingman for Ashley. You know she’s crushing hard for you.”

“Oh this is for Ashley, huh?” His lips curl in amusement and you shrug, playing innocent. You both smile at one another as the world seems to stop spinning for a moment. Everything was quieter, the sound of rushing water from Ashley’s shower had even been drowned out, and now it was just you and Leon. You could breathe, you could take your time and just look at him, taking in the fine details of his face; the color of his irises, the sharpness of his jaw, the dip of his cupid's bow, the pinkness of his lips and the strongness of his chin.

Beautiful.

Inside and out, this man was… beautiful.

He was looking at you too, but it was different. His eyes dimmed, no longer shining along with his smile… it was like a part of him had left and gone somewhere else, no longer sitting right beside you. He looked through you, barely seeing you at all as he reminded himself of his job and why he was here. His smile faded and his eyes dropped, refusing to meet your gaze anymore.

You were admiring everything about him, and he was slowly drifting away from you. Like two ships passing in the night.

“Look… I can’t— I can’t have someone—“ he sighed and scooted closer to you on the couch, resting his gloved hand over the top of yours that was still holding your coffee mug. He was warm, even the leather of his glove was warm and it grounded you– it was a little prickly from where it had torn and frayed a little, from welding guns and knives all day long. His hand squeezed yours once, his pinky resting against the pulse point on your wrist. “I just can’t. Sorry...”

He was definitely not talking about Ashley anymore. You were only teasing and joking around about his relationship status, and you knew that he was far too good for you. Thanks to your low self esteem, and your confidence in Leon never being capable of looking at you the way you looked at him… that ship sailed hours and hours ago, practically when you very first laid eyes on him… But his words still felt like a knife to your heart for some reason.

You blinked once, shaking yourself out of the trance you had put yourself in, and your lips parted. You weren’t sure if you wanted to say something, or if you were going to say something, or if you should have said anything at all. But thankfully—

“Leon! Your turn! You stink. Who knew saving some damsels in distress was such tough work, huh?” Ashley teased as she burst out of the bathroom looking completely refreshed and clean. Her hair was twisted up into her towel while she wore the same clothes she wore in the village. Maybe you could go in search for some robes the three of you could wear or something— at least just for the night. You could go buy some clothes in the morning before the three of you headed back to your respective homes.

You and Leon jumped apart and refused to look at one another, as if you had been caught doing something naughty by your parents. If a hand on yours was considered naughty then you never wanted to be pure. Leon took a final sip of his coffee before placing the mug back down on the coffee table, and when he stood, he looked at Ashley, vaguely gesturing towards her. “Will you two be okay while I’m gone? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Leon please. The only thing we’re in danger from right now is your body odor,” she teased even more, skipping over to grab Leon’s arm and ushering him towards the bathroom. “Im stronger than I look, don’t make me wrestle you into the shower, Leon.”

You blushed at the thought of Ashley and Leon anywhere near a shower together.

“Alright,” he chuckled but paused in the doorway of the bathroom, finally looking towards you again, but you were silent and didn’t quite know how to feel or react. “Yell if you need me, okay?” It was directed towards the both of you but his eyes were burning a hole into your face.

You simply nodded. And Leon disappeared behind the bathroom door.

———————————————————

“Need me to tuck you in or something?” Leon asked teasingly as he walked over to you. Ashley was fast asleep in one of the single beds, having passed out when you went for your shower after Leon. The three of you were clean, dressed in robes (well Leon wasn't), all comfy— but very tired. No amount of coffee could help.

You were sitting on the armchair by the second single bed, (there were only two but Leon said he was fine sleeping on the couch— this was obviously before he stupidly agreed to just not sleep at all for the night) a book in your lap, one that the hotel just had laying in the small bookshelf. It was terrible and not your idea of a good time at all, but there wasn’t much else to do. You could watch tv but you didn’t want the noise to keep Ashley up.

“Tell you a bedtime story?” He offered once you didn’t say anything to his first teasing question. “I don’t know how good of a story teller I am…”

“I'm fine, Leon. Thanks though,” you smiled up at him. You weren’t mad and you weren’t holding a grudge, you were just confused and felt a little awkward from your previous conversation with him. And with you acting awkward it only made things even more awkward— it… had been a rough few days.

“Okay…” he watched you skeptically for a moment. “Are you worried about falling asleep? I had the same problem after Raccoon City.”

“No-“

“Because I don’t mind staying up, and I can sit closer to your bed if it makes you feel any better?”

“Leon-“

“Ashley’s already knocked out so she won’t mind if I’m keeping an extra close eye on you until you fall asleep.”

“I'm fine. I swear. I just don’t feel like sleeping right now is all…” You looked up at him and smiled, closing your book to lightly wack his stomach with it. He took a step back and placed his hand over the spot you just walked, looking down with a faint smile.

“Right…” he nodded, sighing as he fell back onto your bed, spreading his legs like all men do, and resting his elbows on his knees. His upper body was leaning towards you where you sat on the armchair in between the window and the bed and, feeling a heat make its way onto your cheeks, you quickly went back to reading your book.

“What are you reading?” His voice was lower and softer than it was just a second ago, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I couldn’t tell you. I haven’t taken in a single word since I picked it up,” you looked back over at him and smiled with a small shrug as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“Riveting stuff. I guess it’s better than fighting monsters though.”

“I wouldn’t know, you fought all the monsters for me,” you sassed, as if you were disappointed that you didn’t get to fight anything, when in reality, you know you would have died if you had to go up against one of those crazy villagers. And Leon was taking on half of Spain it felt like, plus those that grew into large monsters with tentacles and big yellow eyes and slime and spikes and goop.

“Well hey, you threw a flash grenade at that Mendez guy for me.”

“I forgot to pull the pin…”

“Yeah, but he looked pretty pissed off when it hit his shin. It was a good throw,”

“I was aiming for his head…” You bit your lip.

Leon sighed and looked down, not knowing how to find the bright side of that little tidbit. A beat passed before you started to chuckle, and so did he. “I know one thing you did that saved my ass.”

“What’s that?” Your tone was humorous, thinking he was going to tease you again. It wasn’t like you did much, especially compared to Leon. Just the fact that he said ‘I know ONE thing you did that saved my ass’ is proof that you obviously didn’t do enough. However, maybe that’s for the best as you definitely would have gotten into even more trouble if you started being reckless.

“Luis’ lab…” he looked down at his hands as he spoke.”I was losing it, I could hardly see, I couldn’t move my body properly. I think I even started hallucinating.” His eyebrows jumped a little as he recalled those moments in his head. It wasn’t very pleasant for you either, but Leon had a lot more of those moments than you did. “I don’t think Ashley and I would have made it if you weren’t there,”

“I think I was just yelling at you the whole time. I was scared.” It was true. You were scared of losing both him and Ashley, and having to find a way off the island on your own. You recalled yelling at Leon while he stumbled through the hallways with an unconscious Ashley in his arms. ‘Hurry the fuck up, Leon!’ and ‘don’t fall down! Get back up! Now!’

“Your yelling got me to keep moving, gave me something to focus on.”

“Well... You’re welcome,” you whispered, looking down at your lap bashfully. Your teeth worried your bottom lip, making it feel a bit tingly and numb. Once you gained the courage to look back up and meet Leon’s gaze — his eyes already on you, watching you intently — you exhaled slowly through your nose and faintly shook your head.

“You’re so annoying,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

He didn’t look amused, more like... he was agreeing with your statement. He didn’t even look like a kicked puppy, he had just accepted that it was his time to be knocked back down a couple pegs.

His eyes focused on yours while yours focused on his lips. God he was so annoying. And it was even more annoying knowing that he wasn’t doing any of this on purpose. He was just... like that. It was impossible not to like him, not to dream up some fantasy of you and him being closer, more intimate. Impossible not to imagine how soft his lips might be and how his hair might feel between your fingers, and how his rough hands might caress you so gently.

A heart breaker. That’s what he was.

Even Ashley was in the same trap as you — could you even call it a trap when Leon wasn’t aware he had set it, and you and Ashley had both practically willingly jumped into it? You heard her little hints, her little compliments. Calling him dashing and trying to get him to work with her once his mission was over. And you couldn't even blame her! You wanted more time with him as well.

“I wish I never met you,” you whispered, more softly than you had previously been speaking.

“Where would you be without me?” He whispered back just as gently.

His pearly whites faintly peaked out from behind his lips, barely visible but just enough to know that he was fighting off a smile. The corners of your lips twitched upward slightly as you fought off your own smile.

You leaned in.

He didn’t move away.

You leaned in more.

The hint of a smile had left his face and his eyes dropped down to your lips. His own lips parted and his brows twitching- itching to pull together, as he fought with himself. You could see it all — how he wanted to run, how he wanted to pull away, how he was worried and maybe even a little scared. But that wasn’t all, you could also see how he wanted to lean in and give you exactly what you wanted, because he wanted it too.

Conflicting.

You moved in gently and cautiously, your eyelids slowly closing. You weren’t sure if he moved in towards you, or if you managed to get closer to him in your eagerness, but you could feel his breath against your skin a second after your eyes closed. Your noses were the first to touch.

You breathed in, and Leon let out a shaky breath that you couldn’t only feel, but hear as well since you were so close to him. You angled your head to the side slightly, feeling your way out with the tip of your nose as it slowly and gently slid down the side of his nose bridge and poked the inner corner of his cheek.

Your lips ghosted his, feeling him ever so slightly. The softness, the warmth. You shuddered.

Your lips parted, so did his. Your lips pressed softly against his top lip while his pressed against your bottom lip, delighting yourself in how soft his lips were and how inviting they felt. You could only hope you had the same effect on him. He wasn’t pulling away, he leaned in closer, much to your surprise and his hand slowly reached out to lay flat against your knee.

You applied just the tiniest amount of pressure with your lips before pulling back, needing air. Your cheeks were warm, your eyes glossy, and your lips just a little wet from where Leon’s lips had pressed.

You licked your lips, wanting to taste more of him. He did the same. The both of you staring into each other's souls, eyes flickering to each other's lips, then eyes, then back to lips. Not a word was uttered between you two before he leaned forward this time and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat.

His kiss was just as, if not more, gentle than yours, thinking he would be a little rough or just— anything but so gentle. As if you were more fragile than glass, more fragile than the finest porcelain. Like you were thin paper sat out in the rain, and one little breeze would tear you to pieces.

He kissed you. He wanted this. What was he talking about earlier with his ‘I can’t’? He was doing it right now and you never ever wanted him to stop.

Keeping your lips connected to his, you slowly rose from your seat, hands coming to slide over Leon’s shoulders. He leaned backwards — only his lower body, while his lips refused to leave yours, as he gave you space to sit down with him on the bed. His large, warm hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer and keeping you close.

Your lips parted for a short breath only to close around his bottom lip a second after. But when his lips parted, he didn’t bother gaining more air, he simply worked your mouth open and found your tongue with his own. The sound of wet lip smacking soon filled the room, along with faint panting and pauses for quick breaths — gulping down air when you had the chance.

His hands squeezed your hips and yours fisted the collar of his tight shirt, pulling and not letting him go. A way to ground yourself. Just an hour ago you were so content with the idea of him being too good for you. Knowing that he would never see you the way you saw him. But now here he was, kissing your lips so softly but so desperately.

Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest, trying to explode out of you.

“Leon...” you panted breathily against his mouth, having nothing else to say besides his name. A name you never thought you’d have the opportunity to whimper out like that. You whimpered it once before when you rolled your ankle after running away from a crazy wolf-dog thing, and needed to use Leon as a crutch for a moment, but this was different.

You weren’t sure if you leaned forward or if Leon pulled you closer but he slowly fell back down on the bed, and you followed pursuit. The pillow sunk beneath his head and his hands slid from your hips to your lower back, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You’ll never understand how someone can kick open doors and barrels and people’s heads, and also be so tender and gentle behind closed doors.

He was firm, sturdy as you laid on top of him. You could feel his heart beating against your chest and he could probably feel yours as well. His heart was beating fast, but strong and mighty, and even when he was distracted like this — not alert and ready to defend, you still felt so incredibly safe.

Your tongue pushed its way into his mouth, exploring and massaging where you could. You were thankful that you brushed your teeth when you had a shower earlier, and considering the fact that Leon tasted minty and refreshing, you could only assume he did as well.

His tongue slid against yours, flicking against the roof of your mouth before he pulled back to refill his lungs. You didn’t even have time to share a look before he was back to kissing you.

One hand slid into his sandy blond hair, pulling a sweet and quiet moan from deep within his chest. Your fingers slid against his scalp and teased the roots of his hair, while your other hand laid flat over his pectoral, feeling his muscle and firmness and his strength.

Your movements were slow and steady, like liquid pouring over his skin, there was no rush, there was no danger. It was just you and Leon, sharing kisses and slowly morphing into one being. If love wasn’t this then you didn’t want it.

“Leon... hmmf,” saying his name for no apparent reason other than to just say it. Your robe slipped as you raised your leg and bent your knee, hugging him with your thighs. Leon’s gloved hand slid down to feel the soft, exposed skin of your thigh and you gasped into his mouth. The feeling of his soft fingertips with the scratchy leather sent a heat all throughout your body.

He, of course, didn’t take a robe from you earlier, opting to stay in his filthy clothes since they were more practical for if he needed to defend you and Ashley again. You didn’t think he would have to defend the two of you at all, now that you were off the island and away from the village… but neither you nor Ashley were back home just yet, so he couldn’t afford to take any risks. He was sure determined and that alone made your insides all warm and fuzzy.

His hand gripped your thigh, but his lips stopped moving. You took the opportunity to worship him; to press kisses to the corner of his lips, then two on his cheek — one right beside his ear and the other closer to his jaw as you moved down to his neck.

His skin was so soft, save for the few cuts and scrapes. He lifted his head, giving you more room and you eagerly obliged, leaving soft pecks and wet, open mouthed kisses, little licks and faint nibbles. He hummed in pleasure and it made your whole chest flood with pride.

Pressing a kiss against his adam's apple, you went to move to the other side of his neck, wanting to give his right side equal treatment, but he turned his head. You weren’t sure if he was trying to stop you or not, so you pulled back just to make sure he was okay.

He looked perfectly fine. His cheeks were a soft shade of red that you would now commit to memory for the rest of your life– probably your new favorite color.. His eyes were half lidded and a little glossy, making the different shades of blue in his irises shine brightly even in the darkly lit room. It was impossible to have a fear of drowning when you looked into them.

Though he wasn’t looking at you.

His head was turned to the side, looking over at Ashley who was still sleeping like a rock. Her lips were parted and she breathed heavily, close to snoring but not quite.

It was only when you shifted your body a little, wanting to back off a bit in case he was uncomfortable, that you felt your effect on him. Your thigh felt his excitement, he pursed his lips together and closed his eyes for a moment to focus on his breathing.

Was this really happening?

“She won’t wake up,” you whispered to him and his eyes opened, looking cautiously into your eyes, then back to Ashley, then back to you one final time. You wanted him, and he wanted you, and you had both survived the horrors you encountered over the last few days. You both deserved a break. You both deserved this.

His brow furrowed knitting together tightly. Though the slight upward angle in his brows made him look like a wounded puppy.

“My job isn’t done yet,” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I need to stay focused.”

You deflated.

“Right.” You nodded once and crawled off of him. Maybe it was for the best, you didn’t want to go too far with him after knowing him for only 48 hours. Though going through copious amounts of trauma together did make for a great bonding experience and therefore it felt like you had known him for months.

You sat on your ankles, hands on your knees. Your robe was open just enough to show your legs but the rest of you was covered. One hand left your knee to wipe your swollen and wet lips, basically wiping away Leon’s kiss, before you tucked your hair behind your ear.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your lap, feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little ashamed. Were you wrong to think Leon was into it? Into you? It definitely felt like he was, but maybe he snapped out of it once he realized you weren’t that lady in the red dress and the high heels.

As if he could sense your downward spiral, Leon’s hand found yours, the one still resting on your knee, and squeezed it reassuringly. “But I can… stay here?”

You finally looked up and met his ocean blue eyes. He had sat up somewhat, his back resting against the headboard of the bed. He looked just as unsure and nervous as you did. He obviously didn’t have much experience with this sort of stuff, which only made him even more endearing. The poor guy just fought monsters for a living and never had time to slow down and relax.

“While you fall asleep,” he added gently. He wanted to stay with you? In bed? Did that mean he wasn’t just using work as an excuse to not go further with you? He really did just want to stay alert and not have any distractions while the president's daughter was in his care.

“If you want?” He pressed one more time. He was giving you big, puppy dog eyes— knowing him, it was unintentional too. Even if you didn’t want him to stay with you, there was no way you could refuse him when he gave you that face. But you did want him to stay of course.

You didn’t need to say so.

You curled up beside him, sliding your body under the covers. Leon didn’t smell great, but he was at least clean enough— his clothes weren’t covered in blood and dirt but the smell lingered a bit. You weren’t sure if his sweat or the seawater from the jetski ride over was what rid his tight shirt of all the muck. Or maybe he washed them in the shower and dried them quickly afterwards. That would be nice.

Your hand splayed over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Your nose pressed against his ribs, finding an odd sense of comfort in the smell that lingered. It was Leon after all, it was proof he was there with you, reminding you you were safe even when you had your eyes closed.

His arm was around your neck, letting you use his bicep as a pillow. His heart was beating rather fast as you snuggled into his side but after a few minutes it slowed back down and fell in tune with the steady rise and fall of his chest. Leon turned his head and pressed his lips against your forehead, letting them linger for a moment. And his arm, the one you weren’t laying on, moved over towards you, his hand stroking through your hair.

Cocooned in Mr. Leon S. Kennedy’s arms.

“Get some sleep. I’ll look after you.”

And there go your plans to stay awake with him.

—————————————————————

After waking up in Leon’s arms, you got up and did your morning ritual with Ashley. Breakfast, brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, getting dressed, etc. Leon stood by the door rushing you both as it got close to 9am. A tired but teasing “come on, ladies” came from him as he ushered you both out the door.

Ashley was the first to go home. Being the president's daughter and all. You said your goodbyes to her in the car, opting to not go into the big building with all the security guards. Leon escorted her back to her father — after you and Ashley exchanged emails of course, and by the time she had been delivered home safely, it was already dinner time. The flight from Spain to America chewed up a few hours.

You and Leon didn’t really have a chance to talk when Ashley was around. Though you thought that once it was just the two of you, he might mention something from last night or maybe even be a little more touchy feely. A hand on your thigh while he drove or maybe he would reach for your hand. Maybe press a kiss to the back of your palm once in a while or lean over to kiss your cheek at every stop sign and red light.

He didn’t do any of that.

He barely spoke. You barely spoke. Maybe it was because these were your final moments with him, that you didn’t know what to say or how to act or what to do. How do you say goodbye to someone who saved your life time and time again? How do you just watch him leave without somehow repaying him? Why did he have to leave at all? Why did you have to go back home?

You just did. He just did. It just had to be like this.

Finally once you arrived at your home, Leon got out of the car first, coming around to let you out of the passenger side like a gentleman. You smiled and stepped out, awkwardly hugging yourself as you walked with him to the front door.

This was it wasn’t it? The final goodbye.

You bent down to flip over the corner of the welcome mat, picking up your spare house key and unlocking the door. You hadn’t been home in weeks. Everything was dark and dusty and that homey scent had faded away until you barely recognised where you were.

The door was open but you were yet to step inside. You turned to face Leon first, your hand gripping the door handle tightly until your knuckles turned white.

“…Do you... wanna come in?” You asked hopefully, just wanting to spend more time with him, wanting to feel safe for just a few minutes longer. You wouldn’t be able to feel safe once he walked away. And that foolish little part inside you hoped you could pick up where you left off last night.

But Leon pulled a face. Not out of disgust or hatred or anything bad, he was just… his face was saying ‘no.’ The awkward smile that wasn’t really a smile, more like a ‘man, I’m about to hurt your feelings even though I don’t want to,’ smile.

“I guess not, huh?” You looked down and nodded distantly, realising that this really was goodbye then. Part of you wanted to be angry, for everything that had happened last night, for the feelings you had developed. However, Leon’s ocean blue eyes and his silly floppy hair with those pink, kissable lips... how could you be mad at that?

“It’s been a long couple of days. I should get home.”

“No, yeah. Of course,” you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll probably have another mission lined up for me when I get back to work.” Leon’s voice was quiet and his shoulders were tense. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling but he definitely didn’t look comfortable.

“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, keeping your gaze on your shoes that inched closer towards the inside of your home, wanting to run away and hide.

One beat passed. A sigh left both of you at the same time.

“I’ll see you ‘round, (Y/N)...” you blinked. He was leaving already? Just like that? You finally looked up to meet his eyes, wanting a look at those pools of blue one more time... but he had already turned around and started walking away. He was clearly eager to get away from you, eager to get home and back into his work.

You wouldn't cry over someone you couldn't have...

“Goodbye, Leon.”

You stepped inside your home and closed the door behind yourself.

[anime-love31]

(Inspired by @verses-of-v ‘s post I just randomly scrolled by today.. and I felt drawn to write it)

——————————————

Vergil stepped out of the ash covered ground.. where the roots once stood. It had taken at least a full year for the twins to kill the qliphoth entirely.. and reality had set in.. just how much damage he had caused. Maybe power wasn’t everything.. he dusted himself off.. not that it even helped.. he was covered in so much blood it had practically stained his skin. His eyes left his younger brother as he scoffed.. kicking a boot into the ground.. he was muttering to himself. Vergil hated to even look around.. but he had to. He had to see the reality of what he did. Taking in the sights of cars and houses left shattered and abandoned.. what was left of what the fire didn’t consume.. how many lives he took. How many families he ruined.. how many children he left without families.. that guilt sat on his chest.. maybe that was v inside him kicking up the fire in his soul.. but there was absolutely nothing he could do to fix it.. he fucked up Redgrave city until nothing was left. He walked behind Dante.. practically silent.. he had a long long time to spend with his brother in hell. He felt Dante understood him and he understood Dante. There was no part of Vergil left unchecked.. in his solitude thoughts.. he stepped on a picture that was buried in the rubble.. and he kneeled down to pick it up.. through the shattered glass.. it was a picture of a family.. two bright eyed boys and a mother.. Vergil felt the wet, hot tear run down his face as he looked at the picture. It took almost a year of constant pain for him to accept Eva really did die looking for him that day.. he came to realize.. his father Sparda would be rolling in his grave at the way Vergil had acted.

Vergil quietly followed behind Dante.. back to where devil may cry still stood.. the front illuminated faintly. When he heard Dante speak.. was the first time his thoughts had stopped.. “hey.. Nero did take care of it..” Vergil lifted his head.. and it seems Dante was right.. the DMC mobile van still parked outside.. Dante and Vergil sat down on the steps.. how did he even began to speak.. about any thing.. he pulled the broken Yamato off his back.. a year straight of fighting demons has left the former god sword.. broken.. chipped beyond repair. Vergil set it down.. and realized by now once again.. he was alone, Dante had wandered into the building. Vergil didn’t know how to express these feelings.. hatred.. blinding anger.. Vergils chest tightened.. and when he exhaled.. it was more than that.. it was a loud.. deep, blood chilling scream. He slammed his fist into the concrete so hard the concrete crumbled and blood dripped out of his knuckles. He was thrown into a fit of rage. The first person to find Vergil.. was the one he really owed the world to make up lost time.. Nero. Vergils head snapped toward Nero when Nero took him by both sides of his face, holding him steady. Nero’s words came out quickly “hey.. Vergil.. Vergil.. hey.. look at me.”

And that’s when Vergil lost it.. hot tears ran down his face.. he had screamed so hard.. so deep.. blood trickled behind the hot tears.. Nero was quick to grab a clean towel out of the van.. and held it to Vergils left eye, wiping the blood, he held Vergil by the jaw, tending to the wound, Nero shook his head. “You busted something..” Vergil was still feeling so overwhelmed, he couldn’t help but just cry.. cry so hard he couldn’t breathe. So hard he almost puked when Nero let his face go to check his eye, Vergil was leaned over, drawing deep, heavy heaves. The world was spinning. Nero sat down beside him.. and finally wrapped his arms around him, he felt like that’s what Vergil needed.. and that’s when Vergil really lost it.. he practically collapsed into Nero.. in between floods of tears he spoke. “Nero.. I.. I can’t.. ever.. fix what.. I did.. to you.. to the city.. to the innocent.. lives I.. so ruthlessly took.. I can’t fix any of this.. I can’t ever.. even think about.. starting.. I can’t.. bring people back.. I can’t fix lives.. children’s lives.. I can’t fix.. nothing.. I can’t repay anything..”

Vergil was literally sobbing in a ball on the ground.. screaming.. crying.. he even threw up at one point.. it was just messy.. yet Nero stayed.. pulling Vergils blood soaked jacket off, and gently rubbing a hand across his back.. it had taken Nero that full year.. to even want to see Vergil.. he still wasn’t happy about the whole arm thing.. but it fixed itself.. and it made Nero’s heart heavy to see Vergil.. so broken. Dude couldn’t even stand to his own feet without collapsing back to his knees.. it took Dante and Nero both lifting Vergil.. to even get him to his feet.. he felt so anguished.. Dante carried the broken Yamato.. and they carried Vergil into the shop. The place they took him was the bathroom.. and they set Vergil in the floor.. Dante took over.. Nero went to find Kyrie.. to make some dinner for everyone. Dante managed to strip the broken Vergil.. without Vergil even fussing.. he turned on the water.. and left Vergil just to soak under the hot water for a while.. even if he wasn’t willing to wash or shower.. at least the hot water could start working on the many layers of blood that caked Vergil’s skin.. eventually Nero came back in.. and sat down, leaning over the tub edge, tossing a towel over Vergil’s waist, he scrubbed Vergils silvery white hair with some of his soap, working until the blood ran out of Vergil’s hair, humming softly.. something he heard on the jukebox in the van.. bury the light.. he spoke to Vergil..”Dad..” even the words stunned Nero.. “look up so I can help”.

Vergil let Nero clean his face.. the bruises and scars.. the cuts.. he let Nero wash his face and neck up with soap.. he had cried so much.. he was almost dehydrated.. after Nero poured some warm water across Vergil’s soapy face, he got up, and grabbed a water out of the cabinet they kept for emergencies, and twisted off the lid, tilting Vergil’s head back and giving him the drink. Vergil drank it down, tears still trickling down his face. Nero continued to scrub Vergil down until he could see his skin, watching the blood run down the drain.. he sighed softly, and slicked Vergil’s hair back out of his face.. Nero helped Vergil to his feet, speaking as he turned his back to grab a big, fluffy towel for Vergil.. “you can’t fix what you did.. but you can start fresh.. a new man.. on a new day..”. Nero wrapped the towel around Vergil’s shoulders and let the warm towel encase him, Vergil.. appreciatively nuzzled into the warmth of the big towel.. and nodded.. just a little.. when he spoke.. his voice broke.. “Nero.. thank you..”. Nero gazed back at his father in the mirror.. he could see the red eyes.. and he gave his soft, playful smirk. “Come on.. you godless heathen.. Kyrie made dinner.. and made plenty to feed half demons~” he spoke before he handed some clothes to Vergil.. a long sleeve shirt and some sweats. Nero bent down and gathered Vergil’s bloody ones.. and left the bathroom with them. Leaving Vergil.. to take some time and enjoy the warmth.. that small things like fluffy towels brought.. new start.. Vergil could live a life not driven by hate and power lust.. he just needed to take that first step.. and bury the Vergil he was..

[icycoldninja]

Perhaps writing the DMC men catching the reader singing to herself when she thought that she was alone while hanging clothes out to dry

She’s not exactly shy but she’s not exactly bold either, just somewhere in between but for singing…deadass not wanting to sing anywhere publicly, which results in her awkwardly sitting in a karaoke booth with her frunk friends hyping her up and she’s just “-_-“

So when they said they’ll be out to get groceries or go on a mission, she takes this time to sing to herself:

1/ Dante: Would That I - Hozier

2/ Vergil: Brooklyn Baby - Lana Del Rey

3/ Nero: La Vie En Rose - Edith Paif

4/ V: I’m a fool to want you - Frank Sinatra

Yeah, OK. Here ya go.

Sparda boys + V x Singing!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante knew you were pretty closed off in terms of singing, as whenever he took you out for karaoke nights with the rest of the DMC crew, you would just sit in the booth, watching as he and probably Nero screamed their drunken heads off.

-He assured you just couldn't sing or were just too nervous to do it in front of others, and he respected that.

Then he happened to walk out on you singing to yourself while hanging up your laundry.

-"And it's not tonight Where I'm set alight And I blink in sight Of your blinding light Oh, it's not tonight Where you hold me tight Light the fire bright Oh, let it blaze, alright

Oh, but you're good to me Oh, you're good to me Oh, but you're good to me, baby"

-Dante was stunned to hear you could sing like this, and ended up stealthily following you outside when you did your laundry, just to hear you sing.

-At some point he couldn't control himself any longer and decided to sing along with you, nearly giving you a heart attack.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was never one to be nosy, so if you choose not to sing around others, then that's your problem, and not his.

-He doesn't make any assumptions or anything about why you choose not to sing in public, because he genuinely doesn't care.

-He can't sing to save his life, but would sooner die than have you know that, so he'll keep his mouth shut.

-At one point he walked outside, where you were hanging up laundry, only to find you belting out some tunes.

-"Well, my boyfriend's in a band He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything I'm a Brooklyn baby I'm a Brooklyn baby

Ta-da-da-da-da-da-da Ta-da-da-da-da-da-da Pa-ta-da-da-da-da"

-Vergil has to admit, he's impressed. He's not gonna follow you around to hear your singing, but he will leave the window open so he can quietly listen in without fear of getting caught.

□ Nero □

-Nero enjoyed singing himself, though he only ever showcased this ability when Dante dragged him out for a get-together with the others, where he would inevitably drink too much beer and lose his self control.

-He won't pressure you into doing something so potentially embarrassing, so whether you want to sing in front of him or not is entirely up to you.

-He is a little bit curious, however. Do you have a hidden talent that you're too nervous to show, or do you suck really bad?

-He happened to be taking a stroll outside when he caught wind of singing that wasn't coming from a pair of speakers. It was coming from a person, and that person was you, singing Edith Paif.

-"Des nuits d'amour à plus finir Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent Heureux, heureux à en mourir"

(Translation from Google: Nights of endless love, a great happiness that takes its place. Troubles, sorrows fade away. Happy, happy to die)

-Nero didn't understand a word of what you were saying, but that didn't matter cause your voice was epic as hell.

● V ●

-V doesn't sing, since his voice isn't exactly made for that, but he would love to hear you sing.

-He is a tad bit disappointed that you don't want to sing, but everyone has their aversions and such, so he let it go.

-He happened to be passing by the open kitchen window, outside of which you were hanging up the laundry, and heard your singing for the first time.

-"I'm a fool to want you I'm a fool to want you To want a love that can't be true A love that's there for others too"

-V was pleasantly surprised that you'd decide to sing outside, doing such a mundane task, and was also quite happy since his wish had finally been granted.

-Since he happened to love the song you were singing, he couldn't help himself and began singing along, startling you with his raspy, mummy-with-a-sore-throat singing.

[prototypelq]

During my foolish attempt (thankfully, successful, through a lot of time, trial and error) at DMC5 SoS difficulty run, the Vergil fights have caught my attention. Vergil's behaviour in both fights is very unusual, and I wanted to share some thoughts on this matter.

post sponsored by mutual @stashoflostsouls's suggestion to share this

I'll open up with the most obvious one, a rebuttal of a misconception, that I've seen a number of times in the fandom, and which baffles me to this day - M20, aka Son VS Idiot Dad fight, which is a complete joke.

Don't get me wrong, this was not the hardest difficulty, not am I the most skilled player, but I almost won this battle first try, and actually won it on second, while being extremely freakin rusty at Nero game, by which I mean halfway remembering the controls in the middle of the fight. Even if you learn the attack patterns and dodges, a proper challenging bossfight will not allow this kind of victory.

M20 Vergil tends to fall on his knee for a breather after laying a single finger on him, he is Much Slower than before, and he gets caught by the most obnoxious Devil Breaker animations to boot. M20 Vergil is exhausted, he does not have his proper strength for this fight, and so a newly-awakened Nero thrashes him easily. Literally. This fight is mechanically and challenge-wise equal to an interactive cutscene, same as the credits. This does NOT mean Nero is on par with the twins' power, it only means he stopped them in their final moments, running all of their last fumes into that rush, only to be stopped from ending it all.

Okay, now that weird thing out of the way - M19 the Twins Final Stand.

Vergil behaves Very Weird in this fight, to say the least. First of all - phase 1 and phase 3 attacks are...Heaven and Hell. On SoS you need to dodge three then five consecutive Judgement Cuts. If phase 1 Vergil can be parried, interrupted or juggled even, phase 3 Vergil is completely bonkers insane, the only thing you can do against him is pray and run away. again I am not too skilled at the game.

Which, you know, is unusual for him. Because Vergil is decidedly Not known for toying with his prey. Vergil is known for going all in and executing threats on sight. It is weird for him to hold back so obviously.

Even funnier, one of the defeat lines he says is 'You've disappointed me, Dante' as in 'player you fool, this is only my first easy phase of the fight, how will you even survive the DT transition'.

i heard this one a lot

But okay, this can be excused by DMC5 being, y'know, a game. And a good bossfight needs mechanics, phases and challenge escalation, otherwise, it will decidedly not be a good bossfight, I hear you say. Hold that thought.

Now for the Arguably Most Stupid Move In the Entirety of DMC - the Mega Ultra Super Freakin Charged Flying Lizord Freight Attack during the 2d to 3d fight phase transition.

I cannot find the words to properly describe just how stupid this move is. It is flashy and powerful, which does suit Vergil at first glance, however, this is a fight against Dante. Batshit like this Would never work on Dante, Could never work on Dante, and never ever Will work on Dante. You wanna know how to dodge this attack? Double jump. That's it. Of course, you can get fancy and RoyalRevenge it right back, or Gunslinger-charge the IMMAH FIRE MAH LAZOR with the Double Kalinnas, or do another stylish move, but the easiest, cheapest, most obvious way to dodge this attack is double jump.

Do you see why this is stupid. For your notice, even the fried chicken Malphas' rampage attack has a larger hitbox than this!!!

Now, contrary to all the evidence presented above, there is One attack in the 1st phase which you must always take seriously - the teleporting Stab. It's the scenic attack which has Vergil shishkebab the player with Yamato and reminisce on 'the old times'. This attack is not hard to dodge, any moving will do it, however the Timing has to be very exact - too fast or too slow, and you can say bye-bye to your healthbar.

This attack is Vergil NOT messing around, this one is serious and dangerous, and you need to always keep it in mind. This attack is Vergil checking you, this is him testing how in control you are of this fight. If you are too excited, or tired, or your attention wandered and he does this - Easy Mode is Now Selectable TM. If I am not mistaken, this is the only attack which timing does not change between phases, meaning the dodge window in phase one and phase three is the same. Meaning this attack is Vergil Not holding back, unlike every other move in phase one, which is considerably faster the more the fight progresses.

So, what do we have in total:

Vergil responding in kind to Dante's provocation in the cutscene; then for some reason limiting himself during the start of the fight; except The Stab, which you can consider a provocation in of itself; doing a needlessly flashy and hopelessly useless freight train attack, which Vergil overly-telegraphs by flying around (parading) beforehand; and only after ALL THIS, does he start fighting in proper.

Why?

Tu-dunnn, advertising time! I am a firm believer and follower of the amazing mutual @stashoflostsouls' school of character analysis and thought, and for this particular post I will be referencing her analysis of Vergil's motivation, which you can guess from the title of this analysis - Vergil loves his brother and it’s the reason he falls, and her analysis on V(ergil) and how Dante ended up being the death omen of his own brother.

You should really treat yourself to reading the full versions of this, but a tldr for the post purposes: Vergil loves his brother so much, he could never kill him; Dante's determination to chase Vergil made him a death omen for his own older brother; after his rebirth in dmc5 Vergil feels rejected by Dante, has no reason to live, and he is ready to face death, which he has been running from his whole life, at the hands of his younger brother.

This analysis shines new light and makes sense of this erratic behaviour of Vergil's in M19. The entire fight is one big trap, a provocation, only the last phase of the fight is the actual last stand. The holding back at the beginning of the fight, and the frying freight lizord attacks are a big red flag Vergil keeps waving in front of Dante. To make him commit to this fight, to truly end this for once and for all, to bait his younger brother into thinking Vergil is serious and force his hand into killing Vergil, because that's the only way he would allow himself to go out.

thanks for reading, bonus discord quote about this from my dear mutual @stashoflostsouls

p.s. my dear mutual @fluffypichu876 has also pretty much confirmed this in regards to highest-difficulty experience with the Vergil bossfights, much thanks and appreciation for that insight)

[4saken4gotten]

Head Canons For Dante From Devil May Cry

I think about Dante way too much so I thought I would share my thoughts on some head canons of my own. Especially since the fandom for me gets so fucking dryyyyyyy Like please, I need more content or I'm going to spontaneously combust and not even in a hot and sexy way. (Or it still will be I just wont feel like it, but looking like hell on wheels is the goal!) yes that was a Heathers reference don't come at me Am I cringe? Yes. Am I free? Yes. These are my SFW head canons for him! If I get to it I can make my NSFW head canons as well but we'll see about that. Gender Neutral Reader Pairing. For my bitches, bros and fellow nonbinary hoes. (My certification in making head canons is as follows: I have played DMC 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. I've read all the novels, and read 3 different fan translations of the novels we don't have official English translations for. I've watched the animated series at least 12 times and I've listened to all of the audio drama CD's. I have canon reasons for all my head canons but some of them are just little silly things because I brain rot. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.) I apologize in advanced for any typos and grammar mistakes and or just not making sense. I am dyslexic and autistic so I have a weird way of explaining things and will misspell basic words sometimes but I promise to do my best.

He's a big dork and his favorite thing to do is make his S/O laugh. Filling their soul with light is his favorite thing to do. teehee So he says the stupidest jokes to make them double over in laughter.

This is a bit of a double edged sword however since he uses humor and sarcasm as a major crutch / coping mechanism. He can be serious when the situation calls for it, but most of the time he doesn't want situations and mishaps to weigh on himself or those around him too heavily.

He's HELLA broke. So he'd take full advantage of free things to do like spending the night under the stars in a park after hours. Something that feels like "We aren't supposed to be out here!" but isn't really harmful / breaking the law.

I think he has some sort of collection of some sort. I think he collects seashells because they remind him of more serene times in his childhood. Probably hand sized conches or perhaps sand dollars (because its the only 'dollars' Lady cant swindle out of him ;u;)

Will die on the hill of pizza being a "balanced meal" insisting that it has all the important food groups therefore pizza is healthier than media wants people to think.

Despite his habits of leaving his pizza boxes about and letting Patty clean up after him- his own personal hygiene is actually really important to him. He always makes sure to take a shower after he gets back from every mission.

He honestly cant stand the scent of demon blood on him, it makes him a little anxious because it takes him back to the night of the fire / attack every time. (babyyyy boyyyyyyyyyyyy)

His love language is physical touch (giving) and acts of service (receiving). When he gets more comfortable with you, he's got some part of him touching you at all times: a thigh pressed against yours, a gentle hand around your shoulders or the small of your back, insistent on you laying on his shoulder or in his lap if you're tired. He'll be super appreciative of you organizing things when his mind gets too jumbled or he's just brooding.

I'm sick of people calling him lazy. I don't think he doesn't clean up because he doesn't want to- I think he's just overwhelmed most of the time / overstimulated to do anything if he's not in battle.

I strongly feel like he has some sort of ADHD, Depression and CPTSD due to his trauma. (Losing / killing his brother several times, his mother being killed, his father up and disappearing one day, losing his found family repeatedly: Grue, Nell, Jessica... etc)

He'd probably be super understanding of a neurodivergent s/o and be more than happy to "parallel play" in the shop. He reads his magazines on the couch with you while you read a book. Or he'll try to get some semblance of work done at his desk on the occasion while you watch your favorite tv show.

[2nd-drop-me-safely-in-this-hell]

ladytrish pre-dmc 1 meeting au?

"A Premature Meeting"

Characters

Lady (Devil May Cry)

Trish (Devil May Cry)

Relationships

Lady x Trish

Premise

A sinister plot unfolds to lure the son of Sparda to his doom... But you know that story. This time around, however, a key player visits an old ally of Dante's just before events go into motion.

Content Warnings:

Firearms (Magically Resisted)

Explosives

Dismemberment (Magically Healed)

Canon Divergence

Author's Note:

This is actually a really good idea, thank you anon. I may actually write a follow-up to this, no promises though.

Lady flopped onto her couch, clutching Kalina Ann in her arms. She hadn't even bothered to change out of her riding suit, but all discomfort and soreness was outweighed by sheer exhaustion.

Her respite was cut short by a loud crash from the far wall. At once, Lady jumped behind the couch and took cover, peeking over to see her own motorcycle lying in the middle of her apartment, leaving a trail of glass and other rubble in its wake.

"What the hell?!" Lady roared.

As if to answer her question, the culprit made herself known. Landing behind the motorcycle was a tall, blonde woman, dressed in black leather boots, with skin-tight pants and a corset to match. Her hair was done up in a pony tail, and her eyes were hidden by a pair of sunglasses.

The woman looked fit, but there was no human explanation for throwing a motor vehicle into a second story window, then leaping in after it. Lady slung Kalina Ann onto her back, and placed a hand on her pistol - the human-sized demons tended to be too fast for Kalina Ann.

The mysterious woman turned, and met Lady's eyes. "Hm... One red eye, one green... Scar across the bridge of her nose... You're the one, alright."

"Tell me why you're here. Now." Lady drew her pistol. "Or else."

The intruder smiled. "Well well... You are a ferocious one, aren't y-"

Lady fired her pistol, hitting her right between the eyes. Even as the bullet crumpled and bounced off, leaving only a bruise, Lady's target grunted. "...That was rude." She hissed through gritted teeth.

Lady scoffed. "I don't know what's considered polite in the Underworld, but up here? Throwing motorcycles into people's windows doesn't exactly say 'I come in peace'."

The stranger chuckled. "I'll remember that next time."

"I won't ask you again." Lady cocked her pistol.

The woman smiled "I just need to know where I can find your friend, Dante."

Dante? Lady thought to herself. This woman knows him... Could she be another family member? Her hair isn't white, but she has his tan, and maybe his nose too...

"Who's asking?" Lady barked.

The demon glared. "No one's 'asking'. You're going to tell me. What's up to you is how much I'm going to hurt you first."

"Wrong answer." Lady fired her pistol again.

This time, the stranger dodged, and in an instant, she tossed the couch aside. "Right back at you." She then seized Lady by the throat, and lifted her off of her feet. "Surely you know by now that your only choice is to cooperate?"

"Think again." Lady retorted. "Look down."

The demon looked down to find that her right foot was planted on top of some sort of metal disk. "What's this?" She inquired.

"That's a landmine. Calibrated to fuck up demons like you." Lady answered.

The demon grinned smugly. "You've never faced a demon like me. I like my chances."

"But do you like mine? If you step off now, we'll both be caught in the blast. And I can't tell you anything if I'm dead." It was Lady's turn to look smug.

The woman's eyebrows raised, and her head cocked to the side. "Well played." At once, she tossed Lady over her shoulder.

She landed right beside her motorcycle, her leathers thankfully shielding her from the broken glass. Lady quickly got to her feet, and pushed the motorcycle upright.

"Oh, no you d-" The demon was cut off by a loud gang, and covered by a puff of smoke.

If this were a regular job, Lady would have stopped to make sure the demon was finished. Instead she climbed onto her motorcycle, and rode out of what used to be her window, landing in the street below and tearing away.

Who the hell was that?! Lady thought to herself. I better get myself to Dante's office. To warn him, and to get some answers.

* * *

"Agh, fuck me..." Trish came to, and looked down at herself to assess the damage. Her right leg was reduced to crystalized ichor. Nothing that wouldn't regenerate, and not nearly as painful as anything Mundus would bestow if he had witnessed this failure, but it was still a surprise.

As the stump began to extend into a complete leg again, she laid back down, and laughed to herself. Looks like I underestimated you, hunter. I hope this isn't the last we see of each other.

[apocalypta-secundus]

"How old is Muzan anyway? So much for being the first demon. There's more of us, and we're O L D E R than you!!!"

"And some of us don't even eat humans, we eat other demons."

[iblameashley]

Whispered Secrets (Pt 1)

Male | Gay

1,686 words Content: Angst, Mention of death, Death (No DMC)

Part 1 of the 'Whispered' Series.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley | John 'Soap' MacTavish | Ghoap

!!!SFW!!!

Being in the 141 comes with risks, for sure. You roll the dice every time you head out on a mission, and sometimes you get cornered and run low on ammo... what are two men to do but have an honest conversation in a dark corner, praying for their friends to save them.

(Tag List: @a-sleepy-dissapointment)

Sometimes when a mission goes to shit, it really goes to shit. Ghost and Soap were learning that first hand as Ghost grabbed Soap by the back of the neck and pulled him down into cover.

“Bloody Hell, Soap!” Ghost rumbled, “Get the fuck down before you catch a bullet.”

He stared at the Sargent with his deep, chestnut coloured eyes, suppressing his concern about their predicament. Bullets continued to whiz by and Ghost found himself crouching down uncomfortably behind a crate.

“Well do ye 'ave a better plan?” Soap hissed back, furrowing his brow. His chest heaved and his body shook as the adrenaline flooded his system.

“Yeah, mate...” Ghost grunted. “Don't get fucking shot, is a pretty solid plan you git.”

Ghost checked his weapon. Low on ammo.

He clicked the button on his mic, “Price, how copy?” He called. Silence. He shook his head, unsure why he thought the radio had fixed itself.

“Fuck.” He yelled, kicking a box in front of him.

“Calm yer'self, Ghost!” Soap barked. “We need a plan till Price and Gaz get here tae pull our arses frae the fire. ” He swallowed hard, knowing the chances of being found without radios was slim at best.

Ghost looked around.

A bullet grazed the crate above his head, startling him. He scrunched down more.

He took a long, deep breath, feeling the enemy closing in on them. The gunfire was slowing. If they didn't do something soon, they'd both be surrounded and dead in no time.

His eyes fell to Soaps vest. His eyes widened and his mind began to work.

“Got something?” Soap asked, noticing the shift in Ghosts demeanour.

Ghost didn't respond, instead focusing on part two of his not-quite-a-plan, plan.

He grunted.

“Get ready to move, Johnny...”

“Aye.” Soap responded with a firm nod of his head.

Ghost grabbed the flash-bang from Soaps vest and got ready. He closed his eyes listening to the sounds of footsteps on the concrete floor of the compound.

“When this goes off,” Ghost mumbles with his gravelly voice, “run towards the door to your nine-o'clock.”

The gunfire had stopped completely, and the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the loading garage. Every second felt like and eternity. Ghost grit his teeth and gave one last look at Soap. “Johnny...” He whispered.

He pulled the pin on the grenade and tossed it behind him. It landed with a loud 'clinking' sound. Soap and Ghost closed their eyes and waited.

'BANG'

Both men's eyes shot open and they pushed off the floor, hearing the agonized groans of the enemy soldiers behind them. They raced as quickly as they could to the door, Ghost pushing Soap by his back.

They careened through the doorway, and Ghost threw Soap forward as he turned around to slam the door shut. He slammed his aching body against the wall just in time to watch some stray bullets pierce the door.

“Stop firing! Stop firing!” Someone yelled from the other side of the door. Ghost clicked the lock and took a second to catch his breath.

As he looked around the room, he let out a resigned sigh as he realized they were now trapped in a maintenance room. He looked over to Soap with apologetic eyes. 'I've killed us... killed you.' his eyes said as his emotional armour buckled.

“Johnny...” his voice cracked.

Soap looked up at him and gave him a smile. It was almost enough to break Ghost.

“Dinnae gie me that look, Ghostie. We arenae deid yet.” He chuckled. He scanned the room, it was long and dark with pipes everywhere.

The soldiers outside had recovered from the flash bang, and they could hear someone barking orders to start a search.

“Let's see where this room leads, maybe find a wee spot tae hide until they pass, yeah?” Soap offered with his usual affection.

Ghost nodded, and the heavy weight on his heart lifted for just a moment as he pushed off the wall and made his way to Soap.

Soap gave him a playful punch to the arm and jut his head in the direction of the darkness, and God willing, safety.

Their steps were slow and purposeful as they searched the dark rooms length for anything; a vent or window to crawl through, another door to an empty room or a hatch in the floor to a maintenance tunnel.

Nothing.

Of course there was nothing. Ghost had trapped them and killed them after all. Just one more fuck-up in the life of Simon 'Ghost' Riley, but this time he was taking a good man, a great man, with him. His breathing was slow and hard now as they approached the end of the room.

The handle on the door wiggled behind them and echoed down the room.

“Ach, I cannae believe we let ourselves get cornered like this.” Soap grumbled.

“I.” Ghost corrects with a sadness.

“Hey now, Ghost. We're in this together, remember? It's not just 'I,' it's 'we.'” Soap insisted with a warm voice. He shook his head.

The door handle wiggled harder, and then the sound of someone slamming against it.

In a panic, Ghost shoved Soap into a dark corner of the room behind some pipes and pressed himself firmly against the man. Maybe he could catch enough of the bullets to protect Soap. To protect his Johnny.

He knew it was stupid, there was no saving either of them. Once Ghost was dead, they'd get Soap next, and if not kill him, something worse.

Ghost pressed himself harder against the smaller man, lowering his head next to Soaps until his masked face was resting next to his ear. His breath was hot and staggered, and Soap could feel it on his ear and neck though the mask. Soap smelled amazing, even now. His natural scent mixed with the soft smell of of his body wash and shampoo flooded Ghosts senses. It teased and tormented him. This might be the last thing he would smell, and it was intoxicating. It was also the last thing he was likely to smell, ever again. “Ghostie...” Soap murmured into Ghost neck. His breath hitched in his throat.

Ghost snapped back to reality, hearing Soaps speak.

“I'm sorry, Johnny...” Ghost slammed his hand against the cold concrete wall beside Soap. “I'm sorry...” He choked.

“Dinnae need to be sorry, Ghostie...” Soap softly reassures him, “I always knew this might be how I go. Part of the job anne all.” His words laced with sadness and regret.

Soap reaches up and places a hand on Ghost's upper arm and gives it a squeeze.

Soaps breath catches as he stares up at Ghost.

“Well...” Soap lamented, his voice barely a whisper.

“Well, Ghostie... if this is the end for us, then I need to get something off mae chest." His voice ached as he breathed the words out slow and heavy. “Truth be... Simon, tha gaol agam ort.” Soap felt a lump form in his throat. “More than a friend, more than a comrade in arms. I love ye.”

Ghost stared with wide eyes at the wall behind Soap. His ears weren't sure they heard to soft words Soap had whispered. 'I love ye,' they finally registered. Ghosts mouth parted slightly under his mask and his brow widened in surprise under his mask.

“Johnny...” He whispered back. He sucked in a hard breath and leaned his head into Soaps. “Say it again...” he said, pleaded. His hand moved down the wall and onto Soaps shoulder. He gave it a firm squeeze.

“I said I love ye, ye daft git.” Soap replied with a strained effort to make light of the situation.

He wrapped his arms around Ghosts waist and held him tightly.

“I wish I had told ye sooner...” He admitted with pain.

The banging against the door was unrelenting, and even though they couldn't see it, it wasn't hard to tell the frame was starting give. Ghosts eyes softened as he pulled back far enough to look at Soap. He ran his free gloved hand through Soaps Mohawk.

“You have terrible taste in men.” Ghost said in his deep, gravelly voice. In his usual flat tone. A smirk tugged at his face under his mask. At least he'd die knowing someone loved him.

There was a loud 'bang!' and Ghost instinctively encompassed Soap in a desperate act of protection. The door slammed against the concrete wall as it flung open.

There was a moment of silence that lingered as Ghost waited for his body to be riddled with bullets. His heart pounded with a fear he had never experienced before.

Nothing.

'Maybe they don't see us.' Ghost thought to himself.

Soap was breathing heavy into Ghosts neck. Nuzzling against him in a last – and their only – loving embrace.

“Soap! Ghost!” called a deep, familiar voice. “You here? How copy?!” It called with distress.

Price.

Ghost head shot up and looked towards the door, leaning out from behind the pipes. The familiar silhouette of Price stood in the broken entry of the door. Enemy soldiers lay dead at his feet.

Ghost slowly released Soap from his intense grip and took a step back. He cast himself in the light and shadow from the door.

“Rog.” Ghost rumbles back. “Alive and unharmed.”

“Fuckin' hell...” Price sighs as he relaxes a bit. “We thought you two were dead.”

Soap slinks out from behind the pipes. “Almost were...” He crooned, making his way to Ghosts side.

“We have what we came for, lets move out.” Price ordered as he pivoted and began to walk away.

Ghost looked down at Soap and gestured with his head for the man to go first.

“I got your six.” Ghost asserted.

Soap gave Ghost one of his cheeky smiles, and his puppy-dog eyes lingered on Ghost before he finally took a step.

[matchbet-allofthetime]

I saw that requests for DMC were open and I was curious as to if you could write a little scenario where V and reader decide to leave the house for a bit (mission or a date, you can choose) and they have a kid so they decide, "ya know what? Let's let Griffon, Shadow and Nightmare care for the kid while we're away." (It's okay if you want to remove some of the familiars from the babysitting job if you want to).

Have a good day/night

(very long) A/N: my love, your ask has utterly enamoured me and despite me never having wanted kids, this ask has warmed my heart. still don't want children, but i hope you can enjoy! This is so very all over the place and took some time (very busy :') )and I am so very sorry for that.

For a little context, V is half-devil because he came from Vergil. Thus, I decided to make the little child half-devil (technically quarter devil?? I don't consider it a big difference.) Their name is Malacoda (taken from one of the demons in The Divine Comedy)

Bibi is a gender neutral term for parent (in SOME cultures)

Also, multiple POV switches. Sorry lol

Latin translations (and words) have SEVERAL meanings and connotations, so I have made a list of those used in order:

ad minima inferno- the tiny inferno amica parum pueri- darling little child/wonderful child infernum pueri- hell's child/spawn of hell dulcedo- sweetling/sweetness parvus- small, little (used as a term of endearment)

Tending To The Flame

Word Count: 2026

Have a lovely day/night yourself, dear, and…

…Enjoy below the cut!

─────────────────⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅─────────────────

After the last mission, a date was a need, not a want. The tension finally left my shoulders after a day or two, but was quick to return with the stresses of having a child- and said child being half-devil.

I sigh heavily, Malacoda finally resting on their uncle Dante's shoulder. The older man laughs fondly and brushes the thick silver hair on Malacoda's head out of their eyes. He shakes his head fondly at the exhausted toddler. I smile.

"Y'know, Dante, you don't need to help tire the kid out." I say, laughing as he adjusts his long legs on the couch in the DMC's parlour. He just shakes his head at me.

"Nah, it's fine. 'Sides, didn't play much with Vergil when we were young because of the fire, so… I really don't mind keeping watch of the kid sometimes. In any case, I guess ad minima inferno is cute enough to keep around." Dante jokes, moving his free arm to grab a blanket and swaddle my child. I grin.

A clack is heard and I turn, seeing Nero and Vergil coming in from their mission. Both smile at Malacoda and Vergil walks over to rest a hand on their head.

"You're a good parent, you know? Taking care of such a demon and doing so with a better heart than most would." Vergil states. His voice is softer than usual and he smiles at the child currently nestled into his twin's bicep and shoulder like a sloth wrapped around the branches of a tree.

Nero laughs behind me. "Maybe you two-" He says, pointing over to V before continuing, "-should take a day off. Leave the kid to someone else for the day." My eyes go a bit wide but I find I laugh with him. I shake my head as V stifles a laugh behind me.

I press into him with a practiced sort of ease and he kisses my hair.

"Wouldn't that be something, love, a day for just us, away from our amica parum pueri, hm? Perhaps enjoying the stars, or a lovely dinner?" V replies coolly, directing his attention toward me as he kisses me. Vergil chuckles and Nero makes a fake gagging noise before smiling. I drop my shoulders.

"Maybe we could? I don't wanna leave my baby, but… a day would be nice. Are you sure? Who would we leave them with? I'm sure none of these three would want a toddler on their hands as… fickle as our Malacoda." I say, looking to Dante. He tosses up his free hand in surrender and mouths "not fuckin' me." Nero whistles and leaves the room and Vergil merely shakes his head, a sly grin present on his lips. I groan.

Dante lifts Malacoda gently and pads up the stairs to put my child to bed for the night and as V and I follow, we talk. I didn't expect what V might suggest as Dante leaves the room, though.

"My love, truly, it's going to be alright. They shall not hurt our infernum pueri, I promise that." V says, attempting to win a night with just us. I slump in bed.

"Okay, say we do this- I can understand Shadow. She's a delicate thing and fond of Malacoda. But… Can Griffon and Nightmare really be trusted with her?" I ask, concerned, even as I brush my hands through his beautiful hair. He takes my hands and kisses my wrists. I giggle as memories of watching Gomez and Morticia Addams growing up floods my mind. V was always so gentle and loving. I see him smile cheekily from where his head dips low. He nods.

"Nightmare is just as enamoured with the little one as Shadow is. And Griffon, as foul-mouthed and moody as he can be, he truly does want to try to care for them. He likes the little thing we've created. And he's worried about you." V responds, rubbing soothing circles on my palms. At his words, Shadow, Griffon, and Nightmare appear in the doorway. I laugh at the silly display. Shadow is attempting to lick frosting off of her moist nose, Nightmare is wearing a frilly pink and green apron embroidered with strawberries and wildflowers and has a plate of cupcakes balanced gently in his root-like hands. On his shoulder perches the aforementioned Griffon, and he's busy gnawing his way through blueberries and blackberries.

At the scene, V laughs with me until we're doubled over. I gather myself just in time to feel a soft, wet, warm nose push against my hand where it hangs off the bed. I turn and scritch gently at Shadow's snout and she huffs out a content purr. As I move to scratch at her ears and under her chin, she gives a very puma-cat-like smile and she blinks her eyes shut momentarily, enjoying the affections. She opens her eyes pleadingly and the soft look she gives warms me.

Similarly, Griffon glides down from the great golem's shoulder, the golem setting the cupcakes down gently. They smell warm. Griffon tucks himself into the bedspread and allows my second hand to gently run through thick black feathers. He rolls over, spreading his wings in a display of satisfaction and I laugh. I pet his belly.

"Thanks, nothin' quite like good belly rubs to end a good day!" Griffon says, voice loud but happy. Shadow purrs her agreement deeply into my lap where her head lays. Nightmare, for his part, has sat gently on the carpet alongside the unholy puma, and nods his own approval.

V nuzzles into my shoulder and kisses at my skin. "I promise my love, they've been desperately awaiting the moment to care for Malacoda. They've not left me alone since-" V is cut off by Griffon.

"Since we saw the kid and wanted to meet 'em!" Griffon finishes. V chuckles and nods.

"Very true. They were all so excited to meet a small demon. They've never seen one." V continues. "They'll take care of our little demon, I promise you, dulcedo."

I nod and finally give in. I couldn't say no to cupcakes and sad puma eyes.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

As I finished getting ready for the night, I hear V come up behind me. He's dressed brilliantly, cane still by his side, his green and black suit complimenting his dark eyes. I give a little squeal of excitement and he laughs, kissing me.

I myself am well-dressed, set upon making this night a very good one. "Are they ready for us to go?" I ask V, brushing his hair away from his cheekbones. He holds my hand and nods.

"Yes, they are more than ready. Griffon is a bit nervous, but I promise, my love, no harm will come to our little one." V promises, kissing my hand.

"Okay, so," I start, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "We're gonna leave, so please: no burning the DMC down, no excess rude words, and I swear on Sparda's disembodied corpse: if anything happens to my beautiful little hellspawn and I find out about it, I am single-handedly making everything that has ever occurred in Hell seem like second grade recess. I will give you a reason to fear me like Sparda would had he ever met me." My tone is light and playful, but not without its serious notes to it. I was willing to kick some familiar ass and they all three knew it.

Nightmare dips his body some in understanding and I move to pet Shadow's chin. Griffon nods sharply once and fluffs his wings nervously. I reach to pet him too and pat Nightmare's arm.

"I know you're all gonna do great. Just no talons or teeth when playing, okay? And if Malacoda goes demon on you, just give them some snacks. Always calms them down. Alright, i think that's it. Be safe, all of you We'll be back late, so don't wait." I say, joy lacing my voice. My little devil grins at me, showing sharp teeth.

"Bye bibi, bye da!" Malacoda says from their perch on Nightmare's shoulder. Their bright green eyes glow and their little horns are showing clear as day through the tufts of their braided hair. I blow them a little kiss.

V smiles down at me and with that, we're off.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Later in the night, loud purring and playful feline growling is heard throughout the- mostly- empty DMC. In the kitchen, food is being made by none other than Nightmare while Shadow playfully bats at Malacoda as they try to snag her tail. The moment little clawed hands grab it successfully, Shadow flips over onto her back, playing weak. The child giggles loudly.

"Won, I won!!" They yell, gently tapping their hands on Shadow/s belly. She rumbles with joy.

"Yeah you did, good job kid!" Griffon replies, pattering his way over to the two. He places a baggie of sweet treats in Malacoda's arms. "Don't tell your parents, but I snuck you some treats from Dante's cabinet with his permission. Your bibi'll kick my ass if they find out." He chirps, gently pecking at the little tail of the child flipping wildly.

At the cuss, Nightmare growls deeply.

"Aight aight, I'm sorry! Forgot for a moment… Didn't mean it." Shadow squawks out, flapping his wings.

Nightmare simply growls out a small noise of satisfaction and drags a few plates of food out.They're set unceremoniously onto the tiled floor. They're all content to eat on the floor of the kitchen, uncaring of the potential mess to be made. It was simply easier for a golem, panther, and bird- not to mention a messy toddler currently gnawing through lamb meat, green beans, and potatoes while trying to simultaneously grab the poor vulture's feathers. Griffon squawks playfully and gnaws into his own leg of lamb.

Once the meal is over, there's quite a mess- one that Nightmare is quick to clean as Griffon wrangles the child going through an after-dinner energetic spree. Their horns singe at the tips, a byproduct of their bloodline, and they, of course, run rampant through the living room as any toddler does. Their little tail flicks excitedly and the building is filled with loud childish giggles and a concerned "kid, you'll hurt yourself-!".

As the bird tries to wear the child out while keeping them safe, Shadow and Nightmare take to respectively dragging blankets to the couch and cleaning the dishes for the evening. Soon, Malacoda lays down on the floor at Griffon's feet.

"Aww, parvus, you're tired, aren't'cha?" Griffon coos at the little half-devil. He gently digs claws into the child's shirt and drags them gently up the couch, nestling them in like a baby bird. Shadow follows, tucking herself under the blankets and resting with the child. The demon-spawn is beginning to doze, and Nightmare sits by the couch, taking his own time to rest for the night.

As they all doze, Griffon realizes he'd love to do this again. And he loved the kid too- how could he not?

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Late in the night, the DMC is quiet, but the front doors open as you and V walk in. It was a lovely evening, peaceful and filled with poetry and romance. It always happened that way with V, it seemed.

The two of you are quick to note nothing seems out of order- not any more than Dante usually keeps it, anyways. You set out to explore the building and when V comes across his sleeping familiars and child, he snickers. He's quick to call you from the other room.

"Come over, my love. You'll love to see this, I imagine." V speaks softly. You round the corner into the living room, only to smile widely. You dip into V's shoulder, resting your head against him. He kisses your hair. "I told you they'd do wonderfully."

You laugh quietly. "Mm, true. How about we let them sleep and head to bed? My husband owes me a few more kisses." You say.

"Oh, an enticing offer, my dear. Shall we?" And with that, V takes your hand and guides you both away.

[yelldeadcellvrremix]

Controversial opinion: I love DmC: Devil May Cry... for the complete opposite reasons that the game was intended to be taken as.

I think the best way I can explain is if I compare it to Devil May Cry 2, another bad DMC game. To be completely honest it's... okay, I guess. The ganeplay functions. The story functions, I think. Idk, I literally cannot remember anything from it. But that's the thing: It does what it is required to do, but never goes beyond that. It's worst crime is being boring. There is nothing else to say.

DmC: Devil May Cry though? The gameplay functions and does what it is supposed to, but that's the only okay part of the game. Everything else in the DMC reboot is at best, a pretty good idea, and a fucking dumpster fire at worst. And I LOVE IT.

Its development is a clusterfuck of one bad decision after another. The story pretends to be deep when it's shallow as a puddle, filled with nonsense plot beat after nonsense plot beat. The characters try so hard to be edgy, that they make me laugh my ass off. And there's just some genuinely good things to say about the game; The art style is pretty solid besides the uncanny as hell human faces, and the news station boss fight is actually excellent from a presentation standpoint. Not to mention that the Vergil's Downfall DLC does a significantly better job capturing the vibe of the original series' tone than the main game, even if it's still a departure from what we know of the original lore.

To call this game boring is a huge disservice. It is an endlessly fascinating wreck that I can never look away from. It zig-zags between being dogshit and being good, and there's just so much to analyze how it all went wrong and why it's the way it is, that I am thoroughly entertained all the way through whenever I play it or even just think about it.

[ginsakatoki]

Ok, this one is oddly specific but I hope it's fine with you. So I was thinking about this scenario: post-dmc5 Nero meets reader (who's also a hunter, well into her 30s) during Red Grave clean up and after some time he started seeing her as a mother figure, and the feeling is pretty much mutual. Now she's not very fond of Dante and Vergil (at first) for obvious reasons, so when they return from hell chaos ensues. Nothing super angsty, I just really want someone to slap those shit twins around a bit on Nero's behalf, cuz the boy deserves it <3 Would be extra fun to add Nico, Lady and Trish to the mix, but it's up to you. Thanks!

Oddly specific scenarios are what I like and need, plus this has found a soft spot in my heart and since I saw it in the requests I couldn’t help but want to write it. There is a part that might be a bit angsty but otherwise it’s pretty soft. I have just 1 request left for dmc, then I’ll take a break from it. Please, please ask me about other fandoms too when i open my requests again.

Anyway, sorry to make you wait this long, hope you enjoy it :)

Nero With a Motherly Reader

When I saw on the news what was happening in Red Grave I had to rush in, no matter what the authorities were saying, no matter if everyone was in a rush to leave the city, I had to get there. The idea that demons were slaughtering innocent people made me sick, how did they get in the city in such large numbers in the first place? I’m an experienced hunter and I know how demons usually act: they’re not pack creatures, they’re independent and enjoy the thrill of the hunt on their own. When they do work together, it’s in groups of five or six, so why are there thousands of demons all of a sudden? The answer is pretty obvious. A higher rank demon must have spawned in the city, and I am motivated to stop it. Well, that was the intention anyway.

I just got into the city, and it looks like the major fight has already ended, Red Grave is a mess and there isn’t a single soul around. Demolished buildings, alley walls painted red in blood, burnt ashes of what used to be people… it looks like a manifestation of Hell on Earth, a land owned by the dead. I drive around by car, avoiding corpses and rubble, until there is no access anymore.

I didn’t quite notice it before, but the stink of death surrounds me anywhere I turn, and it gets harder and harder to breathe… or resist the impulse to puke at any corner. Despite this scenery of death, the city is silent, and I’d definitely doubt anyone or anything was around, lurking in the shadow, if I didn’t know better.

I walk and walk until my feet start to hurt, and it becomes increasingly obvious that something is wrong. The demons should have attacked by now, yet all is still silent, eerily so… until it isn’t. A loud sound of engines starts roaring a few streets further, a motorbike perhaps?

I hurry towards the sound, guns in hand and the sniper rifle at my back. As I get closer, I start hearing the distinct sound of voices screaming at each other and a battle. I’m not sure if they’re fighting against each other or demons, though it all sounds very… chaotic.

“What the hell, Nico! Are you trying to get me killed?” Says the first voice, clearly a young male.

“Hell nah. You’re doing a wonderful job yerself” I can’t help but giggle a little, they sound like siblings that banter every day.

I get to a dead end and the fight is just ahead, unreachable by this road, but I refuse to turn tail and run. That’s when I notice a fire escape that heads to the roof, high ground it is. The battle still wages while I climb the ladder and new voices come in.

“Lady! On your back!”

“I got it!” A loud and powerful explosion almost knocks me down… was that a bazooka? I get to the rooftop and I finally manage to see the battle ahead. A large amount of demons is on the streets, a couple of dozens by the looks of it, and among them there are four people, each of them holding their own against multiple enemies at once. Not bad at all. If this were a game, they’d definitely get an SSS rank. I look around for the perfect spot to set up my rifle and give them support. Turns out I got ready to shoot at the perfect time: a demon was coming towards the young man by his blind spot and all his mates were busy in their own fights. With no hesitation I shoot the demon on the head, blasting it off. The man looks at my way for a moment, then continues his battle. I give support to each of them, getting enemies out of their way and protecting their backs. Soon enough the fight is over and before I can even blink the young man is at my side.

“Who are you? What are you doing here” he still has the gun in his hand, itching to shoot at any given moment.

“Calm down, boy” I slowly get up and hold my hands up “I’m a hunter, I came here to clean up this city. Just like you guys.”

The tension on his shoulders eases up, but he sure doesn’t give me the satisfaction of putting away his weapon.

“I had everything under control, you can go back now; we don’t need civilians around. And don’t call me boy.”

I stare at him confused, did he not hear me when I told him I’m a hunter? He seems to read the confusion from my face.

“I don’t buy it. You can’t be a hunter, you look like a mother or teacher if anything.” I don’t really have a reply to that, I mean. I _am_ a teacher… and I was a mother. Plus I don’t really dress like his hunter friends: no revealing clothes, no bad ass leather, just jeans and a comfy sweater but I get interrupted before I can reply.

“Yo Nero come here we gotta go! Wait who’s that? You find yerself a hot mama huh? You nasty”

“Oh, shut up Nico!” Once again, I giggle at their interactions.

“Say what you wish, boy, but you guys sure sound like you need a mother. Anyway, we really should go. Red Grave won’t clean itself.”

With that I head back to the street and meet the other members of the crew, the funny and solar Nico, the calm but strong Lady and the seductive and down to earth Trish, completely unaware that it will change my life.

It’s been three years since I met the crew and I must say, I grew attached to all of them, Nero and Nico in particular. They always banter and fight like teenagers but I know how much they care about each other. At first Nero was very skeptical about me and refused to even look my way for a long time, the more I was around, the less he opened up, if anything he closed off even more. Regardless I kept doing my own and, before I could even realize, I started making sure he always ate well (he had such an unbalanced diet I could feel my cholesterol rising just looking at him eat) and slept long enough. More than a few times I found myself covering him with a blanket when he fell asleep on the sofa or covering for him more than the others when we were out on missions or even worrying for him to the point I’d be the first to rush in and help him heal his injuries. It went on like this for a year until one day, when we were alone, he exploded with rage I couldn’t understand.

“Why are you doing this? You’re not my girlfriend, you’re not my mother, so why! I don’t need your stupid kindness and your stupid support, I’m not a child, just go away!” His whole body started to shake and tremble and, at first, I thought it was out of anger. I had to change my mind when I noticed the way he kept hiding his face from me, and how his voice had become a breath whispering me to go away. I didn’t quite realize until that moment how broken he was, how the conviction of being unlovable was rooted inside of him, how he felt unable of being cared for because he’d never known the unconditional love of a mother nor the protective kindness of a father. In a moment of epiphany I understood that everything I had done for him, it had never actually been _for him_, it had been for me. Salty tears started crawling to my cheeks before I could control them and words spilled out before I could choose which ones to say.

“I’m sorry, Nero. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think this would cause you pain. I just… I got to know you and you reminded me so much of my son. Of how grumpy and unhappy he looked the day I went to see him years after I gave him up for adoption believing it would be for the best because I was too young and too stupid. But it was not… it was not” my throat started to hurt and it got harder and harder to breathe.

“He got involved in some shady business and he got killed… he was just a boy. I wanted so desperately to get my son back, to fix my mistakes and I projected that on you… I only made my mistakes bigger. I’m sorry, Nero”. The little composure I had left vanished and I began crying uncontrollably, Nero’s whimpers and cries merging with mines while we looked into each other’s eyes. He closed the distance almost shyly, looking for comfort he didn’t think he deserved, and he hugged me desperately as if afraid I’d run away and leave him alone like all his parental figures had done.

We never talked about that day again, but things had clearly changed. Nero was not grumpy around me anymore, instead he liked to talk about how his days went and started coming to me for advices instead of trying to handle everything by himself like he always used to. He even introduced me to Kyrie and they both agreed I should come over to dine with them in the weekend, like a family.

I stare at Nero and Nico banter in the living room of Devil May cry reminiscing all the events in the past three years. It took time but it seems that Nero has almost healed from the wounds of loneliness and abandonment and I couldn’t be more proud. As I think this, the door opens with a loud thud and two tall men enter like they own the place (which they technically do). I’ve never met them before but the crew has talked a lot about them: Dante, the legendary devil hunter and Vergil… Nero’s father.

“We’re back!” Says the one I presume to be Dante “Why the long faces, no welcome home for us?”.

“We’re back? Is that all you have to say after vanishing for 3 goddamned years? What did you expect! A welcome home party with balloons and candles?” I speak before I can control myself, they cannot be serious.

“Excuse me, missy, but who are you? You’re trespassing, you know, this is my property. Is this your new partner, Nero?”. The nerves of this man.

“Stay away from my son” The twins stare at me, stunned, until Vergil decides to clear this up.

“Son? You’re not his biological mother”

“You’re right” I reply “I am not and, obviously, his ‘biological family’ did a much better job at taking care of him now didn’t you”.

The two men keep silent and lower their heads exchanging guilty glances.

“Now if you don’t have anything important to say, go to your rooms to think about what you’ve done and how not to fuck up again” they both look up, surprised.

“But-”

“No buts. If you’re not going to act like responsible adults, you’re not going to be treated like ones. Now go” they lower their heads once more and start walking towards the stairs.

“Yes ma’am”.

[prototypelq]

DMC Questions Anon here!

How would things go in a scenario where the twins weren't separated after the fire? How would the story we know go in this world? How would their characters be here? What about their dynamic?

Feel free to do this as Dante was still inside the house while Vergil was outside, they were both inside, they were both outside, or any idea you can think of for how this could go. Feel free to tackle multiple variations of this scenario.

Hi Ember, thank you for the ask!

I swear I had already written a post or reblog about this....I'll link it here if I ever find it again.

I'll answer the main question in short - I think if twins found each other after the fire, they would have been much better off in every way possible. First off, they would have each other for support against this horrible trauma, which would already like, eliminate at least 30% of canon twins issues. It won't all be smooth - I can see Vergil trying to take a more assertive/responsible role, as his mother taught him, and Dante buckling against that plus not being treated seriously, which would result in him doing something unbelievably stupid, but over all, I am sure the twins would handle everything afterwards just fine. They would probably be hunted, perhaps the demons would even find them faster than on their own, since there's now double the scent to follow, but nothing stands against Twin Sons of Sparda. They'll probably follow Vergil's idea in dmc3 and try to get their revenge on Mundus, hopefully this time their minds put together could figure a les bloody way for a hell-bound portal.

As a bonus, since this is uncharacteristically short, I do wanna tackle a scenario where V(ergil) reveals his cards to Dante, or Dante is not as blindsided to make use of his high perception skills and figure the puzzle out himself.

It would start out with an obligatory and very forceful hug, as it should with these idiots.

After that - they're probably going to lose their minds about Nero's health in the weeks of Urizen's absence. They'll probably sideline the discussion of Nero for their mutual benefit (Vergil is secretly offended Dante didn't keep Yamato for himself and passed it to Someone Else, still there would be immediate adoration of Nero, Dante does Not want to handle the fallout of his five years of lies from both Vergil and Nero) and try to brainstorm any solutions they can (most of them are hopeless, but perhaps something could stabilise Vergil's current state and win him some time.

(oh also they find actual clothing for Vergil)

Now, even with all the preparation, I don't think the Urizen-Dante match would come out any differently - Dante dies. (as per my personal interpretation that Urizen killed Dante, (unknowing sibling kill count 1-1), but he was able to hold out in the same near-death state that Vergil survived in, till the Qlipoth revived Dante and he was awakened later)

As you can imagine, Vergil is not happy about it. At all. He is being eaten by guilt of harming Someone Important, aka Nero, and the shame of having his """goal""" accomplished and having Dante defeated by "his" hand. This would likely make Vergil even more volatile in terms of his mental state, and he would not be filling around this time. Sorry, no Dancing in the Rain this time, Vergil is gunning to find his little brother.

(oh, it would be super cool if Dante lost his guns on the battlefield with Urizen and Vergil carefully picked them up. first - just to deliver them to their owner, but then to also tentatively use them (the recoil hurts like hell))

After that, the middle of the game is pretty much the same - Vergil awakens Dante (trying the near-stab as the last resort), the twins are forced to travel the crumbled family tunnel to the mansion, Dante figures SDT and flies off to catch Urizen, leaving Vergil to catch up. (not his best moment, but I don't think he would trust himself with new level of almost infinite demonic power around his frail brother)

Vergil probably is not as helpless as in canon, but he still very much appreciates Nero's help in getting to the last battlefield. He wants to believe his brother, but a lifetime of paranoia is not very kind and Vergil is still very desperate to see the battle for himself. I don't think Vergil would spill as much as he does in canon, but he would share that he and Dante are twins for sure.

Dante defeats Urizen, this time without desperate pleas, just sad about the dark thoughts that haunt Vergil's mind. Vergil catches up and is reborn after the battle. I think the events overwhelm Vergil and he bolts this time on his own. Dante sighs and feels rejected, Nero is overwhelmed, demands answers and Dante lashes out with them, then goes to follow Vergil "in case he does something stupid again".

From here...I'm not sure. I think in the scenario the twins talk it out without any battle and then fall into Hell. Vergil leaves the book as a promise and an apology. Nero doesn't get all the answers he wants, but at that point he has enough clues and the puzzle forcibly assembles itself. Dante spills the beans only in Hell, and Vergil is forced to deal with the knowledge there.

Not sure what to do with the familiars, or Nero's power moment in here, I admit. Nero could unlock his powers in the Urizen rematch fight, before SDT Dante intervenes, but it feels unfulfilling. Familiars have no reason to stop Dante in this, but in the game it's not like they really planned on it, it was more of a suicide mission, so maybe they could repeat that, everyone - them and Dante, thinking this would in one way or another aid Vergil? That's the best I can come up with at the moment.

[mariyekos]

Fic time. Chapter 1 of many. In the middle of revising so I don't want to post on AO3 yet (that and I'm uh. Still debating on whether I want to post this on AO3 at all or keep it to myself) but for followers who like DMC if you want a preview here it is. This is supposed to be an adaptation of a response I had to a prompt way back in February of this year! (oh man I've been working on this for 6 months). Also if this sounds familiar I've posted the first 3k before, but this time there's more like 7k words. I cut out about 1400 words today so it used to be longer too 😅

Summary of the whole fic will probably be:

"After defeating Mundus, Dante finds himself stuck in Hell. While looking for a way home, he finds something- or someone- unexpected and proceeds to make several bad decisions. (A DMC1/DMC5 fusion)".

Chapter 1

Mundus is dead. 

Or as close to it as he can be, at any rate. For a being as old and powerful as Mundus, millennia of conquest and victory and tribute fueling his lifeforce and abilities beyond what he’d have accumulated by simply living that long or inheriting strength from his forebears, can’t really be killed by something as simple as what Dante did to him. Not when it boiled down to ‘hit hard and fast with all that you can’ and not much more. All that could do- all that will do, has done, however you’d want to phrase it when the deed’s been done but the effect’s still going- is delay him for a while. Force him to take a nice long nap while he gathers back his power. A reprieve for Dante but not a panacea for the world in general. 

Sure, Dante packs a punch, especially when down in the demon world and fueled by the sword bearing his father’s name and legacy, itself fueled by the sword and amulet that for two thousand years sealed and separated two once-joined worlds, but in the end he was just brute forcing it, and that wouldn’t cut it when it came to something as strong and storied as Mundus. That’d be too easy.

To truly kill Mundus, he’d need something a lot more complex. Elaborate. Drowning in preparation and ritual and kind of magic that could seal Mundus to the point of erasure. And though Dante knows a handful of helpful spells and has made up a few wards here and there, he’s far from an expert on the stuff; more a dabbler than a practitioner, if he had to put a name to it. So if he really wants to blast Mundus from this plane of existence, he’ll either need to come back in a few years once he’s learned some new tricks, or convince someone who already knows them to take a dive into the other side for a quick kingkilling trip. That or send his more-magically inclined son to clean up his messes once he’s ready, if said son ever ends up existing. Who’s to say? That’ll all depend on whether Dante ever manages to escape his current predicament. 

That predicament being the fact that he’s very much stuck in Hell with no way home. ‘Least, not as far as he can tell. That’s why goal number one right now is to find some portal that’ll pop him back where he needs to be before he loses it. 

Which is. Well. Something! Dante’s trying to be an optimist about it right now but he’s not going to lie and say he’s very happy about it. Interesting as Hell can be, he chose the human world for a reason. Hell- the Underworld, the Demon World, whatever you want to call it- it just doesn’t have the same appeal.

It’s Mundus’ fault anyway. Maybe if Dante had killed him it would’ve reversed whatever spell Mundus had used to drag him here and sent him right home, but he didn’t and now Mundus is gone so he’s going to have to figure this out all on his own unless Mundus comes back with a quirky ‘surprise! And goodbye!’ real soon, which, given Dante did beat him about three inches from oblivion, is very much not going to happen. 

Back to Mundus and his semi-unkillability, the reason why killing Mundus is such a tricky endeavor is that he’s more than just your average demon. He’s King of the Fire Hell, for one. Important guy right off the bat. Strong. Impressive. Titled and storied, ranked and elevated, high brow and high class and all that jazz. He’s also Demon Emperor to top it off, whatever that means, which makes him the highest ranked demon Dante’s ever heard of, not to mention faced, and that comes with its own perks of bonus survival.

(It should perhaps be noted that that does, technically, leave room for higher high ranked and higher strength demons Dante hasn’t heard of to exist, by virtue of them either not attacking the human world in recent times and thus staying out of his path, or by them being a whole lot more subtle than the guy who burned down his house, murdered his mother, kidnapped slash brainwashed his brother, and sent a demonic clone of his mom to lure him in after years of sending his lackeys to ruin his life before that, but that’s a different topic for another time. If Dante has to deal with anyone else like that before he’s able to get home, sit down, maybe cry a bit, and take a nap, he thinks he might spontaneously explode). 

Mundus is a capital-E Entity, a legacy, not exactly cosmic but definitely beyond the rest of the rabble Dante’s faced over the years, and even though he knows Mundus could still be beaten into hibernation by someone without all the fancy know-how to permanently off him- Dante just did it, after all- it wouldn’t and didn’t really kill him. Not in a way that would stick. Not in the way that would truly, fully, permanently eliminate him from existence. 

See, if demons are the Underworld’s equivalent of men, then Mundus is the equivalent of a god, and gods don’t simply dissipate when there are still hordes of believers left to will them back into existence with their body (and souls) as fuel. So the texts Dante’s found say. Or so he’s translated them. Linguistics isn’t his strong suit.

(That had always been-)

But if any two demons were to be considered gods of the true sort, those two would be Mundus and Sparda, and Sparda is gone, gone, lost to the winds, deader than dead, never to return- at least as far as Dante can tell given the guy disappeared and never came back with milk or cigarettes or ancient artifacts or even his just his body and soul, and Mundus seemed to think so too, because he kept gloating about that during their fight and the various demons Dante has met over the years never stopped yapping about how the traitor which spawned him had died and left behind a disappointment in his place- so if Sparda can die, Mundus can probably die too.

Dante just doesn’t know how to cause that. 

Yet.

Maybe one day he’ll unravel the mystery behind all that and use his newfound knowledge to stick it to the bastard who came into his life swinging and lit the candles on a birthday cake that would consume the rest of his life in its flames. Maybe he’ll lay out all the pieces that make up god-killing for dummies and have a little scene when he realizes it’s way more complicated than anything’s he’s done and requires a way larger skillset than he has at his disposal, meaning it’ll probably be beyond him no matter how hard he tries to prepare. Maybe he’ll discover the secret to killing a demon-god is actually stupidly easy- if obscure- and just stand there dumbfounded by the fact that his father apparently died from something so basic after two thousand years of romping around a world that he’d split himself. Maybe he’ll discover it was some sort of freak occurrence that had never happened before and would never happen again- unless either Dante got insanely lucky or Mundus got insanely unlucky, which knowing Dante’s luck will never, ever happen- and decide to go back to cleaning up his father’s messes in other ways because there’s nothing he can do about it and that’s what he’s been doing for the past ten plus years depending on how you look at it, so why not? Revenge done, Mundus (not) killed, it’s time for cleanup duty and to carry a cross he never asked to bear but has never been able to bring himself to set down. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it. Being miserable does not count as being broken. It’s just unfortunate. 

Basically when it comes to taking what happened to Sparda and applying that to Mundus, Dante has absolutely no idea where to begin. To do that he’d need to know at least something, and the closest he’d ever gotten to unraveling the mysteries of his father’s death and Mundus’ slaughter had been a day or so before when a scantily-clad version of his mom showed up on his now in-pieces doorstep spilling out the sob story that was his past and inviting him to the place where she said he could explore it and earn his revenge. 

Getting revenge? Sort of happened. He fought Mundus, even if he didn't exactly kill him, and that’s way more than Dante’s managed to do in the past twenty years. And he certainly did do the whole exploring thing. A lot. Probably more than he had in nine years. 

(Since the-) 

Mallet Island had been a hassle at the best of times and a maze at the worst. Had Mundus been the one to plan out all those keys and thingamabobs needed to open up all those doors? Or had he found a random castle with a conveniently obtuse set of navigational tools and thought ‘Ah, yes, this is the perfect place to torment the son of my greatest enemy by making him not only fight his way through my army but exhaust himself trying to figure out how in the world he’s supposed to get through the lion door in the courtyard that speaks in tongues from a statue beneath alongside the other fifteen weird entry things this castle for some reason has’? If this were any other situation, Dante might’ve had a good time going through those puzzles. They were clever. Dante’ll admit that much. But when you’re trying to fight and kill the guy who ruined your life? Clever puzzles just turn into annoying obstacles, if he’s putting it nicely. 

What was the point of all that anyway? Did Mundus think it would be funny to watch Dante struggle? Did he want some entertainment before the actual show? Some fun advertisements to tide him over before the movie began? Or was there some sort of judgment or valuation thing going on? Did he decide Dante needed to go through a special trial before he was worthy of bowing before him? Was Dante’s ability to put a trident in a stone and a sword in a statue some sort of measure of his worth? 

Maybe if Mundus wakes back up in Dante’s lifetime he can get the answer to some of these questions. Maybe he should’ve just asked Trish during one of the handful of times they saw each other between their arrival and her- betrayal. 

(Death. Sacrifice. Why do the women who wear his mother’s face seem to think he wants them to die for his sake-) 

But he didn’t. He’d just gawked and marched on.

Now Mundus is as good as dead, Trish is dead and on another plane, and Dante’s alone with no one to ask anything of. So there’s not much he can do besides wander.

That all wraps back around to his current predicament. The whole “stuck in Hell with no way home” thing.

See, right now he’s cruising through the Demon World mowing down any and all demons that are so unfortunate as to cross his path, because whatever fancy magic Mundus had used to send them to Hell apparently didn’t have an automatic reverse button, so with Mundus down Dante’d lost his world-crossing express ticket, and now he’s stuck in the world he doesn’t want to stay in with no idea how to make it back. 

It’s not all bad. Flying’s pretty nice. Fighting too. It’s been ages since he last has so many good fights in a row.

Fighting and flying also feel like his only options at the moment, which does definitely put a damper on how good they sort of are since it’s that or leaning back on his well-practiced habit of sitting in misery, but he’ll just say he’s having a (not) good time to give himself a moment of reprieve in this otherwise crummy situation. 

The high of killing Mundus had clearly done something to his brain and body that put them on full go-mode, because right now he just knows that if he doesn’t blow through as much energy as he possibly can in the next however-long period of time it takes to blow through it, he will either Actually Explode or go full on Demon-Mode in a way he’s terrified he won’t be able to come back from. So fly and blast away it is. At least until the feeling dies down and he’s certain taking a break will not lead to the Death of Dante in the most pathetic way possible besides just lying down to starve or something equally unpleasant and unepic.

Man. Could the scenery at least change? Dante’s been zooming through Hell for what’s gotta be at least five hours at this point and for all he knows he’s been going in circles because everything still looks indistinguishable from the place he started out, all lava plumes and giant rocks and the occasional craggy pit. It would be nice to know he’s at least going somewhere, even if he doesn’t come across a portal right away. At least that way he’d be able to say he was theoretically making progress.

If he had to describe how he’s doing, Dante would say he’s having both a wonderful and terrible time. He feels better than he’s ever felt. He feels…not the worst he’s ever felt, because nothing compares to the fire or the Temen-ni-gru, and the whole Mallet thing hasn’t hit him fully yet because he shoved everything that happened during this big yet-to-end trip to the back of his mind to keep from having some sort of mental breakdown that would be really inconvenient for his get-home-plan, but he feels awful too and it’s just too much to process so he’s just going to say he feels A Lot. 

In the Underworld, Dante feels stronger than he ever has despite the exhaustion that by all rights should be forcing its claws into him, sliding in under his skin and pulsing its grip to either tear him limb from limb or at least gore him a bit as it drags him down and pushes him under the lovely pinkish water of Hell and gift him with the lovely burning sensation that comes with taking a dip. He’s never maintained his Devil Trigger this long, never pushed himself this hard this long, never kept fighting and flying- and it’s the flying thing that’s the most out of place, probably, because yeah he’s fought for really long times before even if not while expending so much energy and putting as much effort in as he is now, but when it comes to flying he usually prefers to stick to the ground or maybe glide for a few minutes but not stretches that are probably in the hours- this long. This kind of effort and expenditure should come with the sort of exhaustion that would have him collapsing onto the couch instead of walking the few extra steps to his desk and the comfy chair there. If he was on a normal mission, it’d be the sort of thing that would have long since sent him stumbling for the nearest Divinity Statue desperate for a Vital Star of whatever size he could get his hands on.

But it hasn’t. Dante’s still got a star in his pocket, untouched and undesired, and he feels like he’s on top of the world. Exhilarated. Delirious. All-powerful. High. 

Was it killing Mundus that did this to him? Did Dante absorb some sort of special demon energy from him when the Demon Emperor not-died? It’s been ages since the last time he’d done something like that- not since the Geryon and his evil clone back in the Temen-ni-gru whose powers he hasn’t used in an age because they don’t really make battles any more fun- and he can’t remember exactly how that felt or if that feeling was the same as the feeling he’s feeling now. He doesn’t think it was. What he’s feeling now is unique.

(What he’s feeling now is like the battle high he’d felt the last time he was in Hell turned up to ten, back when he’d fought-)

It could also just be because he’s in Hell. Maybe Dante’s demon side is latching onto whatever sort of ambient energy exists in the Demon World and is having a field day with it while the human side of his brain just doesn’t know how to process it all. One side high, one side confused. Dante the single man left with mind a whirl. 

It reminds him of when he’s stocked to nearly bursting with red orbs, having killed so many demons in so short a time that it feels like his body’s filled to the brim with so much energy that if he doesn’t either slow down for a bit or get to a Divinity Statue to spend them, he’ll have to Trigger and toss some fancy moves around just to burn through enough to gather all the rest. That’s the sort of feeling that will send him rushing down passageways high and careless, ready for slaughter and bouncing off the walls to look as cool as possible while doing it. 

If by some chance any of that sounds somehow pleasant, it’s really not. 

Not emotionally. Not before he’s started or after he’s done. It’s that sort of indulgence that feels so good in the moment but so bad at every point when you’re not experiencing it, and one that Dante both longs for and loathes. 

It’s the longing that makes his distaste cross to disdain. Annoyance to hatred. 

(Though not enough to keep him from ever shooting for it when he realizes just how close he is. For as much as he likes to say he hates the high in the before and after, he loves it in the during, is addicted to the feeling in a way where the temptation’s easy to ignore until the bottle’s right in front of you and there’s no one to yell at you to put it down, and the hatred that follows is a more a mix of disgust at his indulgence and inhumanity and a longing for the feeling of power and fulfillment and rightness to flow through him once more).

When Dante loses himself like that, when the high of battle crosses over him and the flair he puts into every fight he’s ever in goes from something meant to make a battle as fun as possible while he’s stuck putting something down to something where he’s toying with enemies who would probably be begging for mercy were they intelligent enough to ask for it- and with some of the big ones, sometimes they do beg for mercy, promising to stop attacking or to leave him alone forever or even to bow down in subservience if he’ll only let them live and not either smite them on the spot or entrap them in weapons he’ll sell the next time he runs out of cash- in those moment, or after those moments are over, Dante’s left feeling inhuman. Like his demon side has won. Like the side of himself he wishes didn’t exist had taken over without his permission and caused him to do things that don’t actually sicken him nearly as much as he feels they should. 

That’s a problem he faces a lot more than he’d like to admit.

Feeling like he should feel one way or another, but not actually feeling that way or the other. Moments where he arrives at a mission to find the contorted remains of the five hunters who failed before him and thinks ‘huh, I should probably be horrified right now’ but only feels mildly disgusted by the sight and smell. Moments where he hears a demon’s nest has been cleared out before he can get to it and thinks ‘aw, but I wanted to be the one to do it’ instead of being happy that said nest was destroyed before any more people could be hurt. Moments where he realizes he should feel bad, and does feel bad, but only because he’s feeling bad about not feeling bad, in a twisted sense of the word.

Basically, Dante is a very messed up person trying his best to be human but occasionally failing terribly and that realization does not make him a happy man. 

He doesn’t want to be a demon. As fun as it can be when he indulges, he spends way, way more of his time not wanting those things and not being happy about that kind of stuff, and the joy of indulging does not outweigh his disgust at that joy. When Dante chose the human world, that was not a temporary choice. He didn’t do it just to sound good. It’s a promise he made and one he plans to uphold until the day he dies. It’s the person he wants to be. It’s the feelings he wants to have.

It’s just a matter of how much choice he really has in the end when those demon instincts sometimes have such a more powerful hold than the human ones.

(Supposedly, he’s fifty-fifty. Logically, each side should have equal claim over him.

But based on the beings he’s encountered, demon instincts run a lot stronger than human ones, and sometimes he feels like even with the fifty fifty split it’s more a seventy thirty or eighty twenty when it comes to urges that the demon side of him loves and the human side stares at in horror.)

Back in the present and his merry jaunt through Hell, he finally gets a change in pace when a pack of Blade descends upon him and gives him a chance to burn through at least a little bit of his battle high. 

It’s not that much of a battle. For all they’ve given him trouble in the past, he rips them to shreds before they can lay a finger on him. 

His claws dig into the tail of the first to reach him as he snatches it out of the air, launching the beast at its brethren with enough force to both tear its spine from its body and fling said body not just into but through the Blades trying to get the jump on him from the side. The move practically douses him in various liquids that Dante does not want to think about; blood is blood and if he had any sort of significant (well, actually, he does have a pretty significant reaction to it, but it’s one that’s good-bad and one he can tamp down because he doesn’t want to be that person) slash visceral reaction to that he wouldn’t have survived a day in his current profession, but he thinks there might be spinal fluid too and for some reason the prospect of getting that in his mouth is absolutely disgusting, so he scrunches up his face as he tricks away. Not that that gives him a reprieve. A lot of demons don’t have particularly strong self-preservation instincts, so what Blades remain launch themselves past the bloody remains of their fellows to get an attack in on the thing that decimated their brethren and Dante deals with them much as he had the first. One by one, or sometimes in twos or threes when they’re feeling annoying, the pack descends. And one by one, or sometimes in twos or threes if Dante aims just right, the Blades fall and die.

Something about Hell makes their energy disperse in an odd way. It’s like an express delivery right to Dante’s heart, a rush of power bursting forth as their corpses burst into a million tiny specks that fade into the non-existent wind an hour or minute later. Really the stagnancy of the air is one of the things about Hell that puts Dante most on edge. It’s unnatural. Unreal. Dead.

(There’s a part of him that urges him to shove his own power into the corpses long enough to keep them solid; to break apart their ribs instead of just their spines, shoving Ifrit-clad fingers into their chests to part the bone and expose entrails rich in whatever it is demons feed on down here, before popping them out with a little fiery flare like they’re nice breakfast sausages ripe for the taking.

Dante not-so-politely yells at that part of himself to shut up.

He’s half-demon, but he’s not a monster. He’s not a cannibal.

Because while he’s half-human and it’s the human side he wants to indulge, he’s still half-demon, so eating a demon would basically be cannibalism and that’s a line he has no interest in crossing.

Not yet at least.

Hopefully not ever.)

The high lasts through the Blades, as it’s lasted through each and every fight Dante's thrown himself into since Mundus had gone down and Dante had been left wanting. Again, he wonders whether this is from Mundus or just Hell itself, and if it is from Mundus, if there’s an actual physical component or gain he got from the killing or if it’s all just in his head. Killing-  felling, defeating, whatever-the-hell it was, Dante was just gonna say killing from now on because he liked simple things- the guy who killed your mother, almost killed your brother, then tortured your brother, and brainwashed your brother, and enslaved your brother- (but not killed! Because no, twisted wretched bastard as he was, Mundus hadn’t been the monster who had killed Vergil. That had been Dante. His own damn twin-)

Well whatever it was that he’d done to Mundus, Dante feels half like he’s on top of the world and half like he’s going to burst into a million tiny pieces if he doesn’t rip everything in sight into a million tiny pieces first, and he wonders if maybe it is all just from satisfaction at achieving at least some degree of revenge. If that’s the case, he’s in for one hell of a crash when the mental high finally wears off and Dante’s subjected to whatever kind of terrible backlash-exhaustion he’ll face once his body finally finishes processing all he’s forced it through and lets him know just how badly he’d overextended himself.

Dante continues forward. He doesn’t really know where he’s going. Just forward. Maybe if he goes far enough he’ll run into a portal and make his way home. Maybe he won’t and he’ll be stuck in Hell forever. 

The latest in the series of bottomless, fiery canyons Dante’s passed eventually gives way to a fiercely boiling lava lake- or some sort of large body of not-water, Dante can’t see the end so maybe it’s an ocean, he doesn’t know, doesn’t think he can figure it out with the way his brain is still buzzing and body is still humming with an excess of power he can’t figure out what to do with- and in the center of the lake is something that throw Dante off nearly enough to make him nose dive because oh. Oh boy. Finally, finally there’s something that’s not only different, but looks promising.

For in the middle of the lava lake stands a castle. 

A grey-stone, big towers, fancy crenellation, a few bretèches, honest-to-the-potentially-nonexistent-god castle.

It’s the first sign of civilization he’s seen since he landed in Hell. The first one recognizable to his human-raised brain, at any rate. It’s reminiscent of the one on Mallet Island. 

(Does this mean Mundus did have his people built Mallet? That this was a long con? Or did he instead choose it because it reminded him of the architecture back home?)

The castle reeks of Mundus, even from miles away, and Dante’s certain it’s a prominent part of Mundus’ domain. Maybe even a summer home or something. He’s not there right now- again, Dante can just tell, his demonic senses are even stronger down in Hell to no one’s surprise- but it’s chock full of demons and Dante’s going to hope that means there’s something worth protecting inside.

There are a few enticing things about the castle, which run through his mind as he speeds through the skies:

First, that maybe a place as human-looking as a castle might have something as human-adjacent as real food. 

The hunger he’s facing right now isn’t that bad yet, but the ‘yet’ is carrying a lot of weight, and he doesn’t want to get to a point where he ends up doing something he’ll regret. Even demons need to eat, and Dante’s seen enough invasions that involved a kitchen raid to know they don’t only subsist on the flesh of their brethren. Hopefully Mundus and co. have tastebuds Dante can appreciate and the guards haven’t cleaned out the pantry in their master’s absence. 

Second, that castles usually have bedrooms, and if there’s a bedroom, there will probably be a bed, and maybe being in a bed in a real room will allow Dante to relax enough to get some sleep. 

Sleep would be more than welcome. He’s not about to drop or anything. He could keep going for days, maybe even weeks if he conserved his energy. Hell’s powering him in a way the ambient Human World never has. But despite having been born a half-breed, the two halves that make up Dante’s whole haven’t always worked very well with each other, and right now Dante’s human side feels like it’s seriously lagging despite the overwhelming energy keeping his demon half raring to go. And again, his human side is his favorite, so it’s the side he wants to pamper, and also the side he does not want to lose if it comes down to it. Who knows what might happen if the human side of his brain undergoes the whole saying about how if you don’t choose a time for your body to rest, it’ll choose a time for you? What will his demon side do? Will it still feel like Dante doing it? Will he do a bunch of terrible stuff while thinking he’s being perfectly reasonable, until the human side of him wakes up and he gets slammed by guilt and horror once it processes everything he’s done? Will he black out entirely while doing whatever demon stuff his demon side wants to do, like it’s an actual split personality instead of just a voice that he thinks is probably slightly more vocal than most people’s impulsive thoughts but has never really considered a separate consciousness (since he’s never given it an opportunity to prove it’s nothing more)? Will he flip some sort of switch so Demon Dante is the Dominant Dante and will remain that way until he encounters some sort of soul-sucking orb or annoying demon-sealing sigil again that quiets it down enough to let Human Dante rise back up and go ‘What have I done?’

After that train of thought derailed off a cliff and took all of its passengers with it Dante’s not really sure what his original third thought was, but the quick replacement is that maybe the castle will be occupied by demons that will put up enough of a fight to sate his own demon side, burn off some of the energy that has left Dante feeling like he’s stuck in someone else’s skin, and let him calm down enough to come up with a better plan for escaping Hell. He’s tired of the Wrongness in the air and what it does to him.

(He’s scared by how the Wrongness feels Right.)

The castle is guarded by some sort of giant serpent that Dante can’t help but compare to Cerberus despite the utter lack of visual similarities. The thing doesn’t even use ice. Or speak. Really it’s only similar in that it’s a guard and that it seems to be sneering at him when he tries to rile it up. The fire it uses is the opposite of the old pup. It’s a lot more level headed too.

(Really he’s only making the comparison because he’s spent the last several hours trying so hard not to think about something that that something is trying to worm itself into every other thing he does spend more than five seconds considering.) 

The serpent rears its head at Dante’s approach, launching itself from the point where the castle’s bridge would be were it to have been lowered. As it is the castle is sealed tight, so the bridge and the serpent are Dante’s best bet of getting into it and he isn’t going to pass up the grace of convenience. Its tail makes some good swings for him, and the fire breath does make Dante all toasty warm, but the thing never does manage to squeeze him tight enough to make him pop, and though the acid-like venom that shoots out from its mouth when it dives for him with teeth bared and mouth letting out an earsplitting screech does manage to sear an unfortunate hole into his coat, it ultimately misses skin. He’s had more than enough practice dodging projectiles to keep out of the thing’s way. So many flying scythes. So many globs of bug juice. Acid spit’s just another thing to add to the list.

The fight gets his heart rate up even if it doesn’t draw any blood, and Dante would say it was a nice little reprieve from the monotony of his latest jaunt. When the thing dies from one last shot to the head Dante thanks it for the entertainment. He feels a little less jumpy now that he’s gotten a more significant chunk of his energy out. Wonderful. He’s finally making progress. Points to the castle even if its only redeeming quality is the gate guard and the inside’s a complete bust.

The bridge falls open once the serpent is dead. Convenient. The dirt it sends into Dante’s eyes is annoying, but it’s worth not having to circle the castle for ages looking for a suitable entrance so in he goes.

Unsurprisingly, Dante’s jumped about five steps into the castle walls. Though the minions prowling the halls are child’s play in comparison to the serpent guardian, what they lack in strength they make up for in numbers, and while it’s not too bad when Dante’s in a large room, the wealth of corridors make things a little more tricky which is in this case more an annoyance than a pleasant source of entertainment.

It reminds him of Mallet, just without the puzzles. Thank god for that. He doesn’t have the brainpower for puzzles right now. If he has to face one he thinks he’ll just turn around and walk the other way.

Violence though? Violence is laced through his blood, entwined with his essence in a way it can never be torn from. Just because people like to say that violence is the thing of beasts, that doesn’t mean humans can’t be violent and can’t enjoy it too; the word depravity wouldn’t exist if humans weren’t around to do deprave things, violence and maiming and killing and tearing among those things which are frowned upon yet still extant and unfortunately common, so that’s a part of him that has support from both sides and clings to him like sap to a tree.

He blasts through hall after hall, the static flowing through him letting him know that he won’t be able to rest until each and every potentially-interesting but highly-doubtfully-challenging demon still alive in the castle is dead and gone. It’s died down somewhat in his most recent bout of pistol fire and evisceration-by-sword, the multitude of red orbs that do neat little dances to hop toward him whether he goes for them or not actually seeming to quiet the burning need in him for once rather than just charging him even further. He’s not sure of the mechanics of that. Maybe it’s some sort of overflow situation; once you get so high, you go back to zero. He’d be cool with that if it means he can rest. And hey, Mallet had some annoying orb doors that could only be broken if you had the cash, so maybe his new stockpile of orb-energy will prove useful making progress in the castle if he’s barred by a glowing door with a phantom hand that demands payment for progression. Maybe that’s what’ll get him back home.

He continues onwards.

And onward.

And onward.

Hot damn this castle is huge.

He goes through the castle level by level, clearing out the entire ground floor before ascending to the next, then the next, then any towers or protrusions as he encounters them, et cetera. His exploration hasn’t revealed an end to the flow of lesser demons committing suicide-by-Dante, but it has revealed a few somewhat useful looking bedrooms, so he files those away in the back of his mind to use later. The beds look cozy enough to stay in if his searching doesn’t reveal any magic portals. 

Other fun rooms include a giant hall for dining with a gargantuan throne at its head, an armory, a completely foodless kitchen (boo), a room full of enchanted chests and barriers that he leaves be after they don’t shatter with a few hits from Rebellion- and oh, he has Rebellion, when did that happen? Did it sense he needed it after gifting the Sparda and thus Force Edge to Trish and somehow make its way back to its wielder? He has no idea when he swapped to it from Alastor, just that it’s in his hands- and a trophy room full of things Dante doesn’t want to think about.

From the looks of things, he’d say this castle was very recently in use. The demons populating it seem more like guards than fellow looters, though Dante can’t help but feel like they’re missing a few big guys who’d be better at beating back actually competent intruders.

He’s not sure whether he’s happy or disappointed about that.

Still he moves forward, ascending and clearing room after room until he finds himself doing a little loop up the staircase of the last tower left to check, muttering under his breath about how there better be something actually useful in the room because while a bed would be nice the castle has been an overall disappointment and he really, really would like to get home.

The tower is immediately unsettling. It doesn’t look notably different from any of the others, but it instead feels completely and utterly muffled. As in, from the outside, Dante hadn’t felt anything from it at all. No guards. No inhabitants. Nothing. And going up the tower, Dante can hardly feel his own power either. It’s like the whole tower has been enchanted to suppress whatever’s stored within it. It doesn’t siphon his energy, but it feels like it might be setting him up for that to be done by another power. Dante doesn’t like it one bit.

If you’d mentioned the suppression concept to Dante ten minutes ago- or ten hours ago, probably, he’s not sure how long he’s been in Hell because whatever sort of weird day and night cycle that may exist here doesn’t align with the human world’s and his internal clock has fallen off the wall- he’d have said he was all for it. He’s so over the buzzing. Going into some sort of sensory deprivation chamber sounds nice after dealing with however long it’s been of feeling as he felt.

But while actually ascending the tower? It makes him feel nauseous. Rather than tamping down on his power, the tower does something to make him feel almost separate from it. Like it’s forced his demonic energy into a box too small for it, locked it away, and then kicked him and the box so they went tumbling down the hill in a way that couldn’t help but leave you slightly motion sick.

Whatever the tower is for isn’t a good thing. More than anything else in the creepy castle, it feels like a prison. That includes the bloodstained cells he’d seen in one of the other towers. It’s just Wrong.

As he finally reaches the door at the top of the staircase, Dante resolves to just peek in, do a quick check to see if anything jumps out at him, and then turn around to make a break for one of the bedrooms so he can sleep all of this unpleasantness away. 

He kicks open the door, unlocked and unsealed, and doesn’t even bother taking a step into the room as his eyes quickly run over the contents and he preps to leave.

But he doesn’t.

Because as his eyes run over the room they land on something he could never mistake for something else- never again- and the world falls out from under him.

Because there, still, limp, and lying in a heap on the ground, is-

“Vergil?”

[river-muse]

First up, thanks so much for the tag! That was such a nice surprise!

Second up, in the spirit of the ask game, wanna maybe talk a bit about "To Break Not Once, But Twice"? The title absolutely piqued my interest 👀

Wish you a good one <3

Ooooo you picked one of the hefty ones to ask about owo The document for this is past 26k words.

Fun fact about "To Break Not Once, But Twice" before I start talking about it: this is actually one of the very first DMC fics I started writing last year before I started making NASNAH! I plan to return to it at some point even if I never post it. I just got caught up with my current works and definitely want to revise a few parts of it in the future before continuing it.

I was partially inspired by a few songs. Most notably this cover of Alice since the song has just a really bittersweet feeling to it overall.

This is gonna be lengthy so I'll hide it under a cut. <3

This fic was a "what if" that took the series back to even before the DMC3 manga, following Vergil as he meets my version of Nero's mother, him leaving, returning by chance, and choosing to stay not out of love but out of something he can't quite name. However it wouldn't last forever because Vergil would be even more desperate to seek protection for his newfound peace and family. That would lead to him still working with Arkham to break the seals so they can raise the Temen-Ni-Gru. When they're broken and Vergil returns to Fortuna to guide them somewhere safe to lie low- he's met with a very familiar and heartbreaking sight of a house on fire and blood covering the path leading up to it. His motivation to raise the Temen-Ni-Gru changes after that night as he's certain that they'd met the same fate as his mother.

I have scenes ranging quite a ways through the timeline for this one, but that's the main gist of where the title for the fic comes from.

I'll share a few excerpts with you, too! These are all heavily unedited and before I got back into the swing of writing after a long break so I can't promise any level of quality. I hope you enjoy them all the same. (I will be redacting the name I use for Nero's mother because I'm still on the fence about sharing it though.)

“Or burned at the stake, based on their beliefs. I’d rather-“ Vergil stifles a yawn “-on my own terms.” “I feel the same.” She says. Then, she’s leaning over in front of Vergil to look him in the eyes. She plucks the cards from his hands “But I think for now it’s time for me to put you to bed, instead. I had no clue that just two cups could get you like this. Come on- up you go.” She grabs Vergil’s arms to guide him up, and Vergil grabs her arms back to keep from swaying as he stands. He snaps up Yamato from where it was resting beside his seat and almost stumbles over. “It’s not right- for a Son of-“ Vergil mumbles without finishing his sentence at all. He allows her to guide him down the hallway to a bed, but won’t let her set the Yamato aside. He holds onto it in his hand and snarls when she tries to pry it from his grasp. “Very well. Sleep with it.” Her gentle tone curbs the knife of desperation that tears through Vergil’s body. She manages to get him out of his coat and pulls a blanket up over his shoulders. Vergil doesn’t know when he falls asleep. Just that the crickets outside and the snoring that starts up behind him is enough to tell him that he’s safe.

-

“It doesn’t have to go down like this, Vergil!” Dante shouts, avoiding a Judgement Cut and stabbing forward with Rebellion. “You know nothing.” Vergil spits “You haven’t lost anything!” “Is that the game we’re gonna play then?” Dante taunts “What’s worth opening the gates to hell for? You trash my shop, wreck the city-“ “They’re dead, Dante!” Vergil’s voice cracks as he raises it, bringing Force Edge off of his back and meeting Dante’s strike in the middle. His eyes are filling up with tears and blurring his vision. It’s too painful. It’s too raw. He transforms because the embrace of his own demonic power is just enough to keep him sane. His wings fan out in an attempt to intimidate. Force Edge comes down with each of his thoughts that emerge through his distorted voice “It’s gone! All of it! My home, my peace, my son, his mother-“ Dante falters at the initial outburst and recovers enough to meet Vergil’s flurry of blows. He braces himself on one knee because Vergil’s fighting style has never been sheer exertion in an attempt to overpower. Then there’s a break in the swings and Dante stabs Rebellion forward through Vergil’s chest- spilling blood over them both. Vergil’s transformation shatters apart in blue embers. He falls and Dante catches him. Vergil coughs up blood while Dante supports him from collapsing entirely. “Whatever you’re thinking- it’s not going to bring them back. Trust me.” Dante’s voice falls quiet as he eases Rebellion out of Vergil’s chest.

-

Vergil may not have noticed in the haze of pain and on the brink of death, but V understands all too well. The child that was harboring Yamato is no doubt of Sparda descent. In Fortuna. If Vergil had truly caused such harm- No. V shakes his head to clear his thoughts. “You okay there, Shakespeare?” Griffon asks, tone concerned for once “You spaced out pretty hard.” “Merely contemplating something that’s of no real concern right now.” V says “Ah, so the kid.” Griffon says, swooping in front of V and landing on a nearby lamp post “You know it’s never too late to send a card and some flowers. Something along the lines of "sorry for taking your arm because I was dying but I’m your old man and want to get to know you ‘cause I thought you were dead." Maybe twenty bucks in the envelope to be safe.” “I doubt that would fix anything.” “Okay, so thirty bucks. Got it. What’s that courier ad we saw a block back-“ “Griffon.” V hisses “Enough.” Shadow leaps down from V’s tattoos and weaves around his legs. He rests a hand on its head. “Go easy on him? I promised I’d stop calling him princess so I’m not treating him like one anymore neither!” Griffon ruffles his feathers “What’s done is done, and we’ve gotta take care of that big bastard that took Yamato with him before he brings hell to Earth!”

Thank you for asking about it! I hope you have a great day!! <3 <3 <3