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glorious-spoon · 5 years

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The Life Span of Parrots

Title: The Life Span of Parrots Fandom: Shadowhunters Link: On AO3 Warnings: None Other Tags: Fighting and making up; immortality angst Summary: Alec wants to live forever. Magnus thinks it’s a terrible plan.

Based on this thread.

The loft is dark when he finally gets home. Magnus pauses on the doorstep, wavering between disappointment and relief before finally settling on the latter. The outrage of this afternoon has curdled into a cold knot of miserable frustration; Magnus’s temper flares hot, but he’s never been able to hang onto it for long. Not the way Alec can.

The way Alec must be now, since apparently he didn’t come home after storming out of the restaurant earlier. Magnus sighs, kicks his shoes off, and shuts the door behind him, then leans against it. He feels exhausted, sad, ancient in a way that he rarely does these days.

For what must be the first time in decades, he finds himself thinking of the precise shade of blue of the Mediterranean the first time he saw it. The salt sting in the air and the hot Italian sun.

There was a boy there that he loved, centuries ago, when he was barely more than a boy himself. Magnus has always been careless with his heart, although at least he’s developed a talent for misdirection over the years.

It ended badly, as so many of his dalliances did in those days. As so many have over the course of his life.

Magnus knocks his head back against the door, staring up at the dark ceiling. He could use a drink, but he knows himself better than to think that’s a good idea right now.

He’s tempted to snap his fingers and summon one anyway when he sees something move out on the balcony. A shift of shadows silhouetted against the soft glow of the street lights below—Alicante is never as bright as New York, but it’s still a city—that resolves itself after a moment into the familiar shape of Alec’s profile.

He did come home, then. Magnus groans softly. It’s a rarity for Alec’s presence to fill him with irritation like this, but he was hoping to put off the rest of this particular argument until both of them have had some time to cool down. Maybe get some sleep.

Magnus could probably do that anyway. Alec had to hear him come in, but he hasn’t come back inside, hasn’t called out to Magnus. In fact, as far as Magnus can tell in the gloom, he’s still stubbornly looking out over the stern grandeur of Alicante. Giving him the cold shoulder like a petulant child, Magnus thinks, petulantly. It would serve him right if Magnus just ignored him in turn and went to bed.

Instead, he pushes away from the door and crosses the dark apartment to step out into the cool September night. Alec is leaned against the railing, arms draped over the edge, staring out into the night. A beer bottle is dangling from one hand, the label mostly picked off. He doesn’t turn as Magnus comes up beside him, but a muscle tics in his jaw. The silence between them stretches out into some miserable, leaden thing before Magnus finally leans against the railing, mirroring Alec’s posture. “How did you get home?”

“I walked,” Alec says shortly.

It has to be five or six miles, and that’s as the crow flies; on the narrow twisting streets of Alicante, it’s closer to ten. It must have taken him hours. Magnus firmly stomps out the fleeting impulse to apologize. Alec, after all, is the one who stormed out.

After Magnus called him a reckless impulsive child, but still. He’s not quite ready to apologize for that, although he probably should.

“Clear your head?” he asks, instead.

Alec lets out an unamused-sounding huff of laughter. “Sure.”

Magnus sighs. “Alexander…”

“You know,” Alec interrupts. “We never got to have pets when we were kids.”

“I’m not surprised,” Magnus says honestly. He’s not sure where this little segue is going, but with Alec it’s usually better to let him get the words out in his own time. Especially when he’s upset. Magnus dislikes the random tangents, but he’s learned patience over the centuries. A little, anyway, although the truth is that it’s never come easily to him.

That, and he doesn’t want to fight with Alec anymore. He never does, really, but now he just feels tired and unsettled and sad, without even the temporary fire of anger to warm him.

He just wants this to be over with.

“Yeah. Shadowhunter kids get weapons training, not pets.” Alec tilts the beer to his mouth, then sets it down on the stone with a hard clink. “We used to go to the Bronx Zoo sometimes, when we had the time. Izzy always liked the World of Birds. The parrots. She used to nag my mom about getting one for a pet. She wanted to teach it how to swear.”

“I’ve heard that they don’t make especially good pets.”

“No. They can live for more than seventy years, some species, did you know that?” Alec’s voice is quiet and even, but there’s an edge of bitterness there. Magnus thinks, finally, that he might be starting to see where this is headed. “You get one when it’s young and it’ll be with you your whole life. Then you grow up, move on, lose interest, and you’re still stuck with this fucking parrot.”

He’s drunk, Magnus realizes. Should have realized sooner, but Alec is usually affectionate and handsy when he’s been drinking. Prone to draping himself over any warm body in his vicinity, especially when the warm body in question is Magnus’s.

Not tonight, though.

“You’re not a parrot,” he says, somewhat absurdly.

Alec shrugs, turning back to look out over the city. “No, but wanting someone for fifty years is a lot different than wanting them forever, isn’t it? Especially for you. I just thought…” he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, I guess.”

Magnus sighs, the last of his anger leaching away to leave something tired and cold in its wake. He moves closer, sets his hand on Alec’s shoulder and feels muscles twitch beneath his palm. An abortive flinch, but Alec doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t look at Magnus, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s something.

Finally, quietly, he says, “You’re not wrong.”

A short, bitter bark of laughter, and Alec does pull away from him, twisting jerkily out of Magnus’s reach. Now that he’s moving, it’s easy to see how unsteady he is. “Okay. Great. I’m going to bed.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says. It comes out sharp, banked frustration flaring up again. “Would you just listen to me for a moment? Please? Instead of storming off again?”

Alec pauses, then finally turns, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine. What?”

Magnus takes a breath, then says, “Immortality always comes with a price. Always.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I think,” Magnus says carefully, “that you lack perspective. You’re twenty-seven years old. You’re so young—”

“I’m not a child,” Alec snaps, and Magnus grimaces.

“No. You’re not. But you haven’t outlived all the people you love. Your family, your friends. Isabelle and Jace and Max—” That last one hits home, if Alec’s slight flinch is anything to go by. Magnus wishes he could feel triumphant. “You would watch them age and die. And you’d love more mortals, and watch them age and die as well. Over and over again, for centuries. Forever. And immortals, what love is between immortals—” He breaks off again. “Camille was the norm, not the exception.”

“Cat isn’t like that,” Alec says stubbornly. “You aren’t.”

“Until five years ago, it had been a hundred years since I’d spoken to Catarina. In a few decades we’ll drift out of each other’s lives again for God knows how long. That’s what would happen between you and me, Alexander. If we were lucky and things went well and we didn’t end up hating one another a few hundred years from now, that’s what would happen. You can’t be married to a person for centuries. Not without destroying every bit of love there is between you.”

Alec is finally looking at him.

“I could never hate you,” he says.

“Time changes people,” Magnus tells him. “Do you honestly think I’m the same person now that I was when I was twenty-seven?”

The hot sun and the blue, blue sea. The boy with black hair and rough hands and a ready smile, laughing at Magnus’s clumsy Genoese and kissing his mouth in the shadows beneath the olive trees.

It was so lovely, until it wasn’t. Magnus was young then, young and foolish and in love, and honest in the way that only love-struck young fools can be. At twenty-seven, forever seemed romantic.

At least until the decades passed, and the boy with laughing eyes grew gray and bitter and eventually sought out the very solution that Alec is considering right now.

Nicolo Cavanei is in Paris these days, or at least he was the last Magnus heard. A respected leader among the vampire clans of Europe; Magnus has spoken to him in passing perhaps once in the last two centuries. There’s no sign left of the shoemaker’s son he once loved, but Magnus supposes he doesn’t bear much resemblance to the young man he was then, either.

Are you happy? he remembers asking Nicolo the last time they met, sometime in the late 1890’s at some political affair or another. Even then, it was an impertinent question imposed on a near-stranger, and no matter that once they’d shared a life together.

He remembers that Nico laughed. Five years younger than Magnus, and he looked twenty years older. Centuries tireder. Elegant and untouchable.

Are any of us, my dear? he asked in the same lilting Genoese that had so charmed Magnus the first time he heard it in that dark little shop that smelled of wax and shoe leather.

It’s a question that has lodged itself behind Magnus’s heart in the years since, not because he can’t answer it but because he can, all too well.

Alec tilts his head. His expression has softened, and there’s something curious about it. As though it never really occurred to him until this very moment that Magnus was once young.

“I don’t know,” he says finally. That’s softer, too. The consonants slightly blurred with drink, but his gaze seems steady enough. “Are you?”

“Are you the same person you were five years ago?” Magnus counters. “Ten years ago? Do you think you’ll be the same person you are now in ten years? Twenty? Two hundred?”

Alec takes a breath, lets it out, then says, “I don’t know.”

“I do.” Magnus rubs his fingers over his knuckles, over the familiar shape of his wedding ring. “Being immortal doesn’t mean existing outside of time. You still have to live through every damn minute of it.”

“Magnus…”

“I love you,” Magnus interrupts bluntly. Perhaps it’s what he should have led with at the start of this, but pulling apart the tangled threads of grief and regret and fear has never been easy for him, and Alec caught him off-guard earlier. “I don’t want to lose you. Not now, not fifty years from now. But this… it would destroy you, Alec. And I don’t know if I can survive watching that again.”

“Again?”

Magnus closes his eyes. “Someday I’ll tell you. Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Alec says quietly.

“I can’t stop you. If you choose to go through with this, I can’t—but I hope you’ll reconsider. Whatever it is you think you’ll solve by giving up your mortality—it’s not worth it. Please believe me.”

“Okay,” Alec says again, finally. It’s not acquiescence, Magnus can tell, but it is… something. Acknowledgement, at least. Some hope that Alec has been listening to him.

Alec touches his shoulder, tugging slightly, then says, “Can I—?”

Before he can finish the sentence, Magnus is already stepping into the circle of his arms. He wasn’t aware of being cold until now, with the heat of Alec’s body surrounding him like a warm blanket. It feels wonderful, and there’s a childish, cowardly part of him that wants to take it all back, that wants to tell Alec, Forget it, forget it all, everything I just told you, forget it and stay with me forever.

Instead, he tucks his face into Alec’s neck and says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you earlier.”

“I shouldn’t have just dumped that on you out of the blue.” Alec’s sigh ruffles his hair, and then he says, “Can we just—go to bed? And finish talking about this tomorrow?”

Magnus nods without lifting his head. There’s a lump in his throat that he has to swallow back before he can speak. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Alec says back, but it’s a long time before he finally lets Magnus go.

#shadowhunters #malec #malec fic #my fic

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skvaderarts · 4 years

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Apocrypha Chapter Nine: Preparations

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Nine: Preparations

Note: Thanks for all your wonderful comments! I got this one done a day early, so I'm feeling pretty good about that! Hope you're all having a good week! This was a fun chapter to write!

(-~-)

A soft sigh escaped Nico's lips as she folded her arms and stared at the note on the door in front of her. They weren't here right now. While it made perfect sense that they would only be gone for a short while, and as such, had no reason to call and alert her of their absence, she still couldn't help but wonder why the note was so exceptionally vague.

"Gone to Zephyr Street. Making an effort to not run too long. -Magnolia"

The young mechanic shook her head and plucked the note from the door, turning towards the top of the stairs. Waiting for them to return wasn't much of a problem, but perhaps heading over to meet them would be a better use of her time. That was what she was going to tell herself anyway. Normally she'd just take a quick nap in the van and wait for them to return, but all the sugar and caffeine she'd indulged in a little more than an hour ago had made swift work of any semblance of tiredness she'd formerly possessed. Now boredome had set and she was ready to do something more productive with her time, even if it probably was a waste of gas.

Nico descended the stairs and headed over to the van. She'd parked it diagonally across two different parking spots, an action that would have surely awarded her a parking citation if anyone had been around to see it. Luckily she had only left the car like this for a split second, so it wouldn't be an issue. The dark haired woman clambered into the driver's seat and put the car in reverse, heading towards the main road. Now it was time to figure out where Zephyr Street was. Where had that map gone off too?

(-~-)

With the front door to the manor locked, Magnolia took the opportunity to open her umbrella. The rain had picked up while they were inside of the house looking around, and neither of them were keen on being soaked through. A chilly breeze blew past them, eliciting shivers from Magnolia as she tiptoed to try and hold the umbrella over them both. V smirked, mildly entertained by her attempt to keep him dry.

"I could hold that for you, if you'd like." V said as he ducked under the umbrella. He honestly didn't really care about being wet, but Magnolia's attempt to help him was so earnest and kind hearted that he didn't feel right elaborating on that fact. He would just play along until they reached the car at the back of the house. After all, it wasn't that far.

Magnolia shrugged and handed him the purple umbrella, chuckling to herself. "Literally everyone in your family makes me feel incredibly short. I wish I had whatever gene runs in your family that makes you all so tall."

V shrugged, unsure of what to say to that. While he had to admit that he was quite tall, he'd never seen it as much of an advantage. If anything, it had been a social ankle weight. He'd always been tall for his age, and that coupled with his unique hair color had made him stand out in the worst way possible to other people around him. It was something that still caused him problems on occasion, but he'd learned to adjust to it. After all, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't exactly wish himself shorter, now could he? And he probably wouldn't even if he could. He was used to it now, after all, and he had no intention of changing anything about himself to please others. It did nothing for him.

"Were you invited to this beach trip everyone is going on about?" V asked as they headed down the stairs, being careful to not slip on the stone," From what I've heard, there will be quite a few of us. I've been told we leave tomorrow morning."

Magnolia blinked blankly, her large grayish blue eyes showing no indication that she knew what he was talking about. The lack of recognition in her face was almost jaring, and V knew immediately that he didn't need her to answer that question anymore. How could she go to something she didn't know about?

"I had no idea you lot were planning to leave town," Magnolia said they headed towards the corner, the wind picking up and nearly turning the large umbrella inside out," this trip was someone's brainchild. Any idea as to who?"

V shrugged again, searching his memory for any relevant information. "I… don't actually know the answer to that question," He said after a moment, genuinely unsure as to who's idea this had been," Nero and I were invited by our father, and I'm relatively sure he didn't plan this outing. It doesn't seem like something he would do."

She shrugged as the two of them continued up the sidewalk, V wrestling with the umbrella more and more with every step they took. Magnolia had to take three steps for every one he took, making her pace much more brisk than his despite the relaxed striked he'd taken on.

"You're quite right, it doesn't. But I'm still going to skin him alive the next time I see him for not inviting me," She spoke in a manner so blase that V wasn't entirely sure if she was being sarcastic or not," Does that mean that I would have said yes? Probably not. But still, it's that thought that counts."

The young summoner chuckled under his breath slightly, once again amused by her wiley personality. He could only imagine what she and her sisters had done to Vergil during their youth.

"I couldn't agree more. Lessons must be learned." V responded, nodding in approval.

Magnolia cackled hysterically, giving him a playful but gently poke in the side followed up immediately by a punch in the shoulder. V buckled, taken totally by surprise. He wasn't accustomed to being toyed with in such a manner. He shot her a surprised look as he fumbled with the umbrella, accidently knocking her upside the head and splashing cold water all over her. She shrieked, still laughing as his cheeks flushed bright pink.

"It's good to see that you do have a sense of humor!" She said with a bright smile, shivering from the cold rain," Let's get back before this storm-"

Before she could continue her statement, a loud screech could be heard from a few blocks around the corner. Within seconds, the van came rocketing around the corner of the building on it's side and skidded to a halt. The van slammed upright on all four of it's tires as Magnolia and V stared at it, startled.

"There you are! I thought I was lost for a while there!" Nico said as she rolled down the window, waving at them," Were ya ready to head back?"

V glanced over at Magnolia and she nodded, waving back at Nico. "You two go on ahead. I need to be getting back to my shop soon. I have some customers to meet with today. it was good to see you both again! Drop by after your trip and I'll make you both dinner!"

Nico nodded excitedly as V gave a single waive over his shoulder towards Magnolia. "Farewell. I'll think on your offer and meet with you when I return."

She nodded and grabbed her umbrella before jogging towards the opposite end of the street. V clambered into the van and closed the door with a final glance in her direction before settling into the passenger seat and closing his eyes. He had a lot to think on.

"Hello, Nico."

(-~-)

Blinding light shined through the floor to ceiling windows as the hanging fans spun lazily, barely circulating any meaningful air. The office was unusually quiet. No music played and all the lights were out since the window provided ample light, even with the stormy weather outside. Dante yawned and stretched as she descended the stairs, still in the process of waking up from his restful slumber. Considering the fact that they would be waking up across from the seafront this time tomorrow, he was trying to capitalize on the peace and quiet while he still could. The twins would more than likely be splitting a hotel room for a day or two. Part of him didn't expect to survive such an experience.

As he approached the middle of the staircase, he glanced over towards the couch that sat directly adjacent to his desk and stopped. Vergil had supposedly woken up in the middle of the night and made his way into the living room. That didn't really surprise him. What did was the fact that he was laying on the couch asleep with an all too familiar book spread out in front of him.

In the just under two weeks that they had been living together, the youngest Son of Sparda had come to realize that Vergil didn't really sleep very much. Aside from the day long nap that he had taken just after arriving, he was almost always awake and on alert. But in the last few days, he had been slowly easing into domestic cohabitation. Despite the fact that he seemed to be physically incapable of relaxing and didn't really have anything interesting to do with his abundance of spare time, Vergil hadn't stabbed anyone to death yet.

Morrison had instructed Dante to contact him when they returned from their trip, and he intended to do so. From what he could tell, this job was going to be big and maybe dragging Vergil along would give them both the opportunity to blow off some steam. It was worth a shot, at least. Better that than to let him stay at the office with the girls. Someone wouldn't make it out of that equation alive. Of that he was certain.

He walked past him and stole a glance in his direction. The only time he seemed to be totally at peace were the brief intervals of rest he indulged in from time to time. The rest of the time he was either reading from that book or seemingly thinking. About what, Dante couldn't say, but keeping him out of his head for extended periods of time seemed like a good idea considering his past track record. While he was making a concerted effort to not go back down that road, the youngest of the twins knew that it was still a possibility if he were pushed far enough. A faint possibility, but still one that existed. Actual meaningful change took a long time, and Vergil was making small but important steps. He needed to be realigned from time to time.

Just as he approached the desk, the phone suddenly roared to life, ringing relentlessly. He groaned and grabbed the phone off of the receiver, holding it up to his ear. Before he could say a single word, a voice on the other end chimed in.

"Omigosh! I can't wait for this trip tomorrow! I already have my bags packed and everything! I'm gonna take so many cute pictures and show all my friends when we get back and eat a bunch of good food and buy so many souvenirs! It's gonna be AMAZING! I know you have to be excited, too! Right Dante? Are you even listening?! So help me, Dante, I swear if you hang up on me I'm gonna hit you so hard in the head Morrison is going to have to have to fix you like he does everything else around your office!"

Dante blinked, shaking his head as if to kickstart his mental process. Despite the abundance of demonic blood flowing through his brains, his brain didn't work any better than an average human upon waking up. In fact, at times it seemed to work even slower. He sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand, leaning back against the desk as he stretched his shoulders and neck in an attempt to loosen up. Upon sparing a glance at the nearest clock, he came to the conclusion that it was just a little past nine in the mourning. As far as he was concerned, if it was too early for his older twin than it was too early for him.

"... Hey Patty. Just woke up. You're gonna have to save all of that for the train ride," Dante said with a yawn, rubbing the back of his neck," It's too early for me to understand anything you just said. Talk to you later. Gotta keep the line open, ya know?"

She groaned and let out an exasperated sigh. Dante could practically see her folding her arms grumpily before she responded. "Ok then! I'll meet you at the train station with the others at four o'clock sharp. Don't be late, you lazy butt! later!"

With that she hung up the phone, beating Dante to the chase as she did so. He stared at the phone blankly for a moment before shaking his head and tossing the phone back onto the receiver. He then flopped back into his seat and put his feet up. Was it too early to order pizza? Somewhere half decent had to be open, didn't it?

"Ug, four o'clock in the mourning? Why did Morrison and the girls have to book those tickets so early?" He said under his breath as he reached for a magazine. Had he read all of them a million times over? Yes. Was he going out in the rain to procure new reading material? Absolutely not. He didn't care if he could get away with using Cavaliere on a public street or not. He wasn't going anywhere.

"... Is she always that energetic?"

Dante's head darted over in the direction of the couch, not so much startled as he was surprised. It made sense that Vergil had woken up in response to all the noise the ringing phone and subsequent conversation had made, but he hadn't noticed him sit up and resume reading his book. The eldest Son of Sparda sat with his legs crossed in a reclining position, indulging in another section of his already well read book. A part of Dante made him wonder what it was with their family and rereading the same goddamn books over and over. Why didn't they ever pick up anything new?

"Basically. She's actually calmed down a lot since she was a kid. At least she hits me with less cleaning supplies now." Dante said with an incredulous look, his eyes traveling over to the phone again. Patty had always been Vibrant, both in her manner of dress and her overabundance of energy. While it was true that he found it exhausting, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy that aspect of her personality. She was such a stark contrast to the other ladies in his life and she always brought something new and exciting for them to enjoy.

Vergil raised an eyebrow but didn't look away from his book. "What, did she beat you over the head with a mop or something?"

Dante half laughed. "I wish you were wrong, but yea. All the time. Said I was lazy and that she wasn't my cleaning lady. That I "was a grown adult and needed to clean up after myself. Feistiest kid I've ever met besides Nero."

To Dante's surprise, Vergil let out a sound somewhat similar to a schoff cracking a momentary smirk as he turned the page of the book. "I don't see a flaw in her logic. She makes a valid point, aside from the notion that you were ever an adult, that is.

Dante shot him a dirty look, shaking his head. "Sure, take her side." Vergil said nothing, simply continuing to read his book quietly. A smug look lingered on his face for a short while before dissipating as he focused more intently on his current source of literary interest.

Content that someplace that delivered had to be open by now, Dante reached towards the phone, intent on ordering himself something to eat. Just before his fingers could make contact with the phone, Vergil let out a discontent sigh.

"You don't know how to cook, do you?" He said, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly," Am I going to have to start making actual food for us to eat?"

Dante shrugged and picked up the phone, going through a mental list in his head. Vergil closed his book and placed it on the couch before standing up and heading towards the kitchen. Dante wasn't sure what he expected to find in there besides cans of tomato juice and dust bunnies, but he had no intention of stopping him, either.

"I've been fine until now. Don't see the problem." Dante said as he dialed the number to a bar up the street. Their pizza was... passable at the very least. A clatter in the kitchen told Dante that his twin was more than likely going through the cabinets.

"Yes I'm sure it has," Vergil said as the sound of a cabinet door closing echoed through the building followed by another and then a third. There was a pause as he presumably checked the last of the cabinets in the small kitchen. Dante could feel a sudden shift in the atmosphere as Vergil returned to the main room, a look of what he could only describe as murderous intent plastered upon his face."

Explain to me how it is possible that you don't own a single dish, cup, or piece of cookware?!" He said as he leaned over the desk to make eye contact with him, looming menacingly across the small space between them. Dante couldn't pinpoint what it was about the question that suddenly made him deeply uncomfortable, but he suddenly felt the need to be as far from Vergil as possible. He could practically feel Vergil snapping his neck just by making eye contact with him.

"I… don't really have an answer to that." He said, reclining in his chair in an effort to put some space between them. Vergil looked about two seconds from whipping out Yamato and harpooning him like some sort of deranged deep sea fisherman.

Vergil closed his eyes and shook his head, repressing the urge to twitch in discontent. "Get up. We're fixing this. Now."

Dante groaned and glanced around him, noting the rain that fogged up the windows and ran down them in lines like a fogged up glass coated in condensation. "You do know it's storming outside right? And we won't even be here tomorrow. Why worry about it?"

"...Did I stutter?" Vergil stated flatly in a tone so devoid of humor that Dante could practically feel the room grow darker.

They stared at each other for a moment before the younger Son of Sparda sighed and shrugged, pushing his chair upright again. There was no point in battling this one out. He'd just end up laid out on the floor with a katana stuck through him. And getting the stains out of the floor was probably more expensive than whatever Vergil had in mind.

"... Let me get my coat?" Dante said, almost pleadingly. He didn't feel like having to ring himself out like an old towel when they got back.

Vergil shook his head, no hint of humor, mercy, of sympathy anywhere to be found in his vicinity. "No."

(-~-)

The beach arc starts next week on Wednesday! Writing this fic has been a blast so far! I love hearing from everyone, and I hope you're enjoying the series so far! Take care and sorry for any spelling errors I missed during editing!

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iamapoopmuffin · 5 years

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Victims With Numbers

Fandom: Nanbaka/Corpse Party (crossover) Genre: Horror Characters: Hajime Sugoroku, Samon Gokuu, Kiji Mitsuba, Kenshirou Yozakura, Jyugo, Uno, Nico, Rock, Tsukumo, Liang, Upa, Qi, Honey, Trois, Musashi, Sachiko Shinozaki, Ryou Yoshizawa, Yuki Kanno, Tokiko Tsuji, Yoshikazu Yanagihori, Yoshie Shinozaki, Takamine Yanagihori, some OCs to take the role of Kizami later on instead of actual Kizami Includes major character death.

Chapter 9 of ?

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After discovering he couldn't just leave the building, Liang decided to try exploring again. It was far smaller and easier to navigate than the main building, so it wouldn't take long, and he hadn't really taken a proper look into any of the rooms he'd passed. There would be some trace of Rock and Tsukumo somewhere if he just looked. The only problem was that the ghost girl was trapped in here with him, so he couldn't be careless. If she was still following him, she would be getting to the bottom of the stairs on the left side now, so he went back to the right side.

Ah. There she was, descending the stairs at the end of the hall. Evidently, she'd decided to loop back around in order to cut him off. She hadn't seen him yet, though, so he could loop back around himself, or duck into the nearest room to hide. If she truly lost him, if he hid successfully, she may well leave the building in search of either him or a new victim. Or just keep wandering around this one until she killed him, but what was life without taking a risk here or there?

He opened and shut the door as quietly as he could, and leaned against it, taking in the room he'd entered. It was the downstairs bathroom. The cubicles stood, but between them and him was a large hole in the floor. The distance was one he thought he could cross, but there wasn't enough floor next to the cubicles for him to land on, so even if he made it, he wouldn't be able to stay there or get back. That crossed them off as hiding places. The only other things in the room were the sinks and mirrors, which weren't much help. Slowly and quietly, he walked across the room, crouching by the hole and trying to gauge how far down it went. In the darkness, he couldn't see the bottom. There wasn't really anything he could drop down there to try and figure it out either, unless he wanted to use his shoe. Or an earring. That wouldn't make a big enough sound, though. As he stood again, he heard the door open and close behind him. Already figuring the girl had followed him in, Liang turned to face her.

As before, the ghost girl advanced slowly, hands outstretched, repeating the same question and the same demand. Her movements were like those of a monster movie zombie, a mindless lurch that could be skirted around with relative ease, though of course it would have been better were the space not so small nor full of holes. Being a child, she would not be able to keep up with Liang even at a fast paced walk, so he was quite calm as he walked by her, keeping to the walls and walking straight to the exit. Perhaps he could find a way to block her in somewhere, find a way to trap a door closed. She seemed to need to open the doors to pass through them, after all, even though she had walked through the railing without difficulty. He reached out to open the door, and frowned when it didn't open.

On closer inspection, the door was locked. That wasn't good. Glancing over his shoulder, Liang noted that the little girl was drawing nearer faster than he would have liked. It looked like his only way out would be down the hole, but he had no idea if he would survive the fall or not. The only thing he could throw down to check that he could be sure to hear would be...one of the dead bodies in the room. He couldn't stay pressed against the door.

It occurred to him, as he looped back around the girl, that he wouldn't have been in this predicament if he had listened to Rock and not separated from the others. He wouldn't have encountered the ghost girl outside, and he would still be in the company of living people, however he was still quite sure they were there somewhere. They wouldn't have just disappeared from the entire building, after all.

He passed the hole again, and pushed a nearby body down with his foot. It seemed like a cold and callous thing to do, but once he realised how deep the hole really was, he knew using his shoe or earring to gauge the depth would indeed have been useless. He'd done three more circuits of the room to evade the ghost's grabbing hands and tried to open the door at least five more times before he heard a very distant 'splash' signifying the end of the body's fall. He definitely did not fancy his chances of survival if he jumped down there. Jumping across to conceal himself in the cubicles was not an option either. Even if it was possible to land safely, the girl would know exactly where he was. The door wouldn't open. There wasn't any way out and away from the child. Against his better judgement, he tried one last thing. "Rock! You said yell if there's a ghost! I'm yelling!"

Of course, he received no response for that. The ghost came within reach, and he could see the blood stains across her form, trailing from the wounds on her face, down across her tattered clothes. He shifted his weight, changing his stance, ready to fight if he needed to. Would trying to kick a ghost in the face work at all? Only one way to find out. He swung his leg out defensively

and his attack never connected. Against his back, the door opened with force, and he felt something pull hard at the back of his jumpsuit, hard enough to yank the cloth tight against his throat. For the third or fourth time today, he was falling onto his backside gracelessly, coughing as the pressure waned. The ghost girl made some strange, mournful noise as she tried to cross the threshold, only for the door to slam itself shut in her face. It jolted a few times as she tried to open it, but whatever force had just saved him seemed to be holding it closed. Then he heard the voice, presumably the voice of his saviour. It seemed to echo from an uncertain position, and he found himself looking for its source.

"I'll hold Yuki here. I can keep her distracted."

The voice sounded so...familiar. Almost exactly like "Qi?"

It didn't respond for a moment, and then "Go to the art room upstairs. Someone will come for you. A friend. Trust me."

He got to his feet, frowning. "Who are you? Why are you helping?"

The spirit hesitated. "I died here. I saw you...Please..."

Liang found himself reluctant to move. That voice was so familiar, but couldn't be Qi. Liang had no evidence to suggest Qi had lost his life during this time, and he wasn't sure Qi would talk like that anyway. That meant this had to be a mystery spirit who had randomly decided to help, and who refused to identify itself. He had questions, and misgivings, and a very bad feeling he couldn't quite place.

"Don't be reckless." The voice warned, apparently realising he wasn't about to move. "You can't fight the ghosts here. They're powerful, and untouchable. They can hurt you, but you can't hurt them. I need you to think before you act."

Deciding not to point out that he was thinking his actions through this time, and not just looking for a fight against a dead child because it was there, Liang nodded.

"Okay. Thank you for your help." He left the ghost girl to the mysterious spirit

Liang waited obediently, perched on the edge of a desk and wondering what the spirit had meant when he'd said a friend would be arriving. He'd thought to give them a time limit, a time before he got up and explored again. He could not wait forever, after all. Long before he reached that limit, however, the door to the art room opened. He saw a flash of purple and brown as someone ran in and hid behind an easel. It wasn't a very good hiding place.

The person was a child, he could tell that much. A purple-haired girl in her early teens, in a brown school uniform. Liang walked round to get a better look at her, and she spotted him and dropped into a crouch with a squeal of fear. He stopped, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. "It's okay. I'm a friend."

She hesitated, looked up at him with tearful eyes. "Help me..."

"It's okay. You're not alone." She was small for her age, he would say. Smaller than the ghost girl from before. "How did you get here?"

"I..." The girl shrugged, reaching up to wring her ponytail with her hands. "I was with my big brother and our friends...and then there was an earthquake...and now we're here...except it's just me!" She began to sob, and Liang came forward, crouching before her and placing a hand on her head.

"The others will be here somewhere. You just have to find them. I'll help, if you want."

She blinked, looking up at him hopefully. "You...you'll help me find big brother?"

"I will. We can keep an eye out for our friends, too. How does that sound?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. Okay."

"What's your name?"

"Keiko."

"Keiko. My name is Liang."

"It's nice to meet you, Mister."

He helped her up with a nod and she dusted herself off before wiping her eyes on her sleeves and forcing a determined expression on her face.

"We'll find them, right Mister?"

"Right." He nodded. "What does your brother look like? What's his name?"

"Motomu. He's really tall, and popular with the girls!"

He nodded, though that didn't help. "Where did you last see him?"

"In the classroom."

"...Which classroom?"

"Oh...the one at his school, not this one..."

"Have you been stuck in this building the whole time? Or have you been to the main building too?"

"There's another building?" Keiko seemed shocked by this, which answered his question. "The door by the shoe lockers has been locked the whole time! It...it's so scary here..." She raised a hand to her face as she began to cry again.

"Your brother might be there then." He mused, not sure how to calm her down. "If the front door is locked, there might be a key somewhere." He went to the nearest cabinet and looked through the glass, trying to see if there was anything of use. Sculpting tools stained in red.

"Is that blood?" Keiko asked from beside him.

"No, I think it's paint." He lied before taking her hand. "Let's go."

Whimpering, she clung to his hand and let him lead her away.

As he walked with Keiko, he tried to get more out of her about what her brother looked like. She didn't seem to speak much, and kept her face hidden against him. She was, understandably, terrified while trapped in this place. She didn't want to see any more dead bodies, and so kept close to this kind stranger. All he managed to get out of her was that Motomu had darker hair than her, and was wearing a different coloured uniform. She didn't specify what colour. Liang just asked her if their uniform was the same, and she shook her head no. That was how most of their conversation was going as they walked into the music room.

"Rock? Tsukumo? Mutomu?" Liang called as he opened the door. The last time he'd looked in there, it had been silent and empty. When they approached the door this time, they could hear the piano playing, but as he stepped in, he couldn't see anyone at the keys.

"Motomu." Keiko corrected softly behind him. "He doesn't play. Do your friends play?"

"I...don't know. I've never asked." He answered honestly. Perhaps if he saw them again, he would ask. Once the danger was over.

Keiko pulled away from him to look at the room, and found her eyes drawn to a particular body - a young teen girl in a similar uniform. She walked toward it, and crouched by it, while Liang walked closer to the piano. As he drew close, all the keys played at once, as if someone had slammed their hands down, and then the lid closed itself. He found himself staring at the piano for a moment longer, as if he would be able to see the player if he looked hard enough, and he only looked away when he felt Keiko tug at his sleeve.

"I...I want to go now."

"Okay. Just a little longer." He took her hand again and gave it a squeeze, hoping he was being comforting. He wasn't good with kids. Sure, this girl was probably in her early teens, but she was much more badly affected by all of this. She wasn't desensitised like Liang was. She was still a minor, while he was an adult, and the only other kids he had really dealt with since his own childhood were Upa and the two from Building 13. The kids who happened to be interned in the same prison as him. Pulling her along with him, he tried to open the lid to the piano, and found, like many other things that had shut behind him, it would not open. He tried the desks next. Those that opened had nothing of use in them. The first had a pair of shoes that undoubtedly belonged to an elementary school girl, and the second one's interior was covered in bloody hand prints, again belonging to children. A few empty desks or desks filled with rubbish later, and Liang opened one to discover someone had tried to cram a human head into one of them. It was thoroughly decayed, and must have been there a long time. Space not taken up by the crushed in remains held bugs. Maggots and blowflies crawling and flying every which way as their nest and feeding frenzy was disturbed. No sign of any key, or clue. Keiko was shivering beside him, staring into the desk, so he shut it and led her out. As they left, he found his eyes drawn to the portraits above the chalk board. He didn't recognise any of the people, but he assumed they were composers or something like that. Something seemed off about the pictures, and when he tore his eyes away, one of them fell to the floor. He didn't look back.

A few steps away from the music room, Keiko began crying again, gripping her skirt instead of him.

"Are you okay, Keiko?" Liang asked after a moment, not sure how to comfort her. She shook her head.

"That...the girl in there...she's from my school..."

Ah. The body she was looking at. "...Your friend?"

She nodded.

"Ah...I'm sorry..."

Keiko merely whimpered in response. Liang took her arm and led her along, and she kept her eyes on the floor until they passed the door with the charms on it.

"Mister Liang...I need to go toilet."

He looked at the taped up door and frowned. "The one downstairs is out of order. This one might be usable if we just-" He reached out to peel one of the paper charms away from the door.

A moment and one cry of pain later, and he was cradling his now burnt hand to his chest. It looked like removing the charms wasn't all that simple. A glance to his thumb and forefinger told him it wasn't a mild burn either - at the very least it would certainly blister.

"It didn't come off..." Keiko mumbled, staring at the door.

It may not have, but some of Liang’s skin certainly did. He cast a quick look around, looking for something he could use to peel or scratch away the paper charms without burning himself again. Nothing really jumped out at him, so he supposed it would have to be another thing to search for.

#Guys the next chapter coming is the first one I'm super happy with #shit gets covered in blood #also meet OC standing in for a corpse party character no.1 #ahh it's nice editing the first draft as I'm uploading it because I realise Liang wouldn't say that #there's probably loads of issues with my characterisation but hey I'm trying!#Anyway look forward to some characters who will definitely scream and cry

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sevi007 · 5 years

Text

Waiting for the Sun - Chapter 2

Rating: Teen and Up Audience should easily cover all bases here

Summary Chapter 2: Dante comes home at last.

Warning: Heart- and teeth-melting fluff in the second chapter. Oh, two child OCs snuck in here, too, I do love me some fluffy moments with kids. And Rodin is possibly a bit OOC, but I enjoyed writing him a lot.

Read it on AO3

Read Chapter 1 on tumblr.

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Seeing his shop ablaze with light even from afar was both a distinctly unusual and a reliving thing for Dante when he turned the last corner.

It just meant his mood had not been taken the worst way possible.

“Who knows how long they are still gonna be there?”

He slowed down to a walk while he tugged his coat more snuggly around himself, a sad barrier against the wind that had started to pick up, smelling like snow. He was not yet close enough to see through the merrily lit windows, but he spotted Lady’s motorcycle near the stairs and Nico’s van opposite the building – without any tree strapped to the roof – so he figured they had just decided to wait out his return.

Which was… a lot. More than a large part of him had expected, jogging – alright, maybe running – the way back here.

The thought managed to warm him more than his too-thin clothes.

Caught up in his musings as he was, he was already halfway up the steps to the front door when he noticed someone leaning against the wall next to it, almost vanishing in the shadows of the doorframe. He slowed, faltering in his steps, before he shrugged it off and greeted the younger. “Isn’t it a bit too cold to stay outside like that, V?”

“Says he who stayed outside for hours,” V’s smile was nearly as pale as its owner, but genuine. He shifted enough that the light from inside illuminated him, leaning heavily on his cane. “And who is the reason I am out here in the first place.”

“Oh? You were looking for me?”

“Griffon was… supposed to do that.”

“Hey now, I don’t like that tone of voice,” Griffon protested as he fluttered out from the shadows above them, dark feathers fluffing up in protest. Nestling on V’s shoulder, he grumbled, “I found him. He just outran me on the way back here.”

“Supposed to,” V repeated evenly, ignoring the indignant squawk from his shoulder. His gaze wandered over the dark streets until it returned to Dante, green eyes scanning him. “You… worried a few people, it might seem.”

Dante nearly grimaced at that. Nearly. He had more control over his expressions than that, and he was not about to let Griffon tease him for his laps in control “Who else went looking?”

“Nero was out looking for you. Griffon informed him on the way back here” V tilted his head towards the demon bird, who nodded in return. “But everyone else is still inside.”

Dante hummed in understanding. It didn’t sit right with him that he had started such a commotion, but there was no way to change anything about that now. He would just have to make sure it didn’t happen again.

He continued on towards the door, looking forward to warming up and finally relaxing a bit. Only that V made no move to follow him, giving him pause. “V?”

The younger was frowning down at his cane, twirling it between his hands while he seemed to ponder something.

Finally, just when Dante was ready to just go inside and leave it be, he spoke up.

“Should I leave?”

It took a moment for Dante to process what he had just heard, and when he did, he directed a questioning gaze upwards to the low hanging clouds. “Why does everyone ask me that today?”

“Well, maybe…” Griffon started out, sharp sarcasm tinging every word, but fell silent again – thankfully - when Dante cut him off with a hand gesture.

“Right, feather-face, I get the why for the first time. Why do you ask, though?”

The question was directed at V, who now showed a keen interest in his cane, long hair shielding most of his expression but the wry smile tugging at his lips.

A squeeze of sharp claws digging into his shoulder that could have been warning or encouragement or both, and the young man sighed faintly before answering. “I did attempt to kill you once, Dante.”

Waiting a beat to see if anything was going to be added to that, Dante was almost perplexed when that didn’t happen. He flapped a hand at V, but turned to his winged companion as he spoke, “Is he going to say anything else? Something that I don’t already know, perhaps?”

“Tried to tell him that he couldn’t expect you to take that seriously,” Griffon spread his wings in what seemed to be his kind of a shrug. “But does he ever listen to me? No.”

“Most people might not react kindly… to someone who almost murdered them,” V spoke up, voice and expression void of all emotions.

Or at least they would have been, if the younger hadn’t gone through Hell and back together with all of them. By now, Dante was pretty sure he could pick out the slightest hitch in the words, the tiniest of tremors, giving him away.

Oh, for crying out loud…

Not sure if to laugh or to roll his eyes, Dante shook his head and clapped his hand down onto V’s free shoulder, making him jump. “Nah, kid, you’re missing the part where half of the people in this very shop have already tried to kill me before you even came along.”

One quick look to the side, and he added brightly, “And yes, the birds present are included.”

Griffon let out his grating laugh, which sounded like a scratching caw.

The tiniest shift, and V looked carefully up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are saying that as if there is nothing unusual about it.”

“Eh. It’s old news. Actually surprised when there’s no bullets or swords involved in any greeting at this point,” Dante smirked when V huffed a quiet laugh at that, before using his grip on the younger to steer him towards the door. “And now stop standing on my doorstep like a sad lost puppy, I want to get inside and get something to eat.”

“Hear hear, best plan I’ve heard all day.”

Pushing the heavy door open lead to warm air and light enveloping them as they stepped inside, and Dante quietly appreciated being able to close the door and seal the cold out behind himself. No way he was gonna step outside again this evening.

He wasn’t really sure what he had expected upon his return. An empty shop had been the worst case scenario, if he was fully honest with himself. Having everything ready for a party, as if he hadn’t stormed out, had also been somewhere up there on the list.

What greeted him now was neither of those options, and he was both glad and a bit confused for it. There was no crowd of his friends occupying his shop, nor any decoration that Patty had all but threatened him with. Only a fir tree, still half wrapped in plastic, was leaning against the wall in the far corner, an array of colorful packages shoved next to it on one side, a few plain carton boxes on the other side.

And Morrison and Patty were seated on the couch, looking up when they heard the door. Patty’s face brightened, eyes glittering with joy, as she spotted them entering. “There you are, Dante!”

“Hey there, kid,” he couldn’t help but smile back, truly smile, (still here, still here, because they were too stubborn to leave him, didn’t want to leave him) and she all but beamed at him in answer.

When her gaze wandered past him, however, the smile fell, morphing into a frown. “V, did you go outside in that outfit again?”

V cast a quick look down himself – sleeveless, coat hanging open over his shoulders, sandals – before looking up with a wary expression, already dreading what was to come. “Only for a moment?”

Patty’s eye-roll was remarkably expressive, just as the sharp look that followed. “And you absolutely didn’t freeze your ass off, of course.”

“Uhoh, here comes the lecture,” Griffon announced, flapping his wings to lift off his friend’s shoulder. His silhouette wavered, becoming blurry as feathers turned to liquid and flesh became ink. “Every man and bird for himself now, boys, I’m out.”

“You…!” V muttered a curse under his breath that was uncharacteristically vicious. It made Dante actually snicker out loud while he stepped away, clear out of the line of fire.

“Language. I just don’t wanna get dragged into this, Shakespeare,” was the last thing the demon had to say before his very being turned into new lines of ink on V’s skin and his voice drifted off.

“What is it with you people and not taking care of yourself?” Patty sighed deeply, climbing over the backrest of the couch. Determinedly strutting over to the Christmas tree shoved into the corner, she crouched, dragging one of the presents out from under the lowest branches. “Here, open this one, V. There’s a blanket in it.”

Even with his reflexes, V barely managed to catch the light package as she threw it his way. “… Thank you? But I cannot simply…”

“It’s yours, you dork. I was going to give it to you, anyway. Now open it.”

“I did not…”

“V, open it, before I do it myself and smother you with the blanket while I’m at it.”

Dante chuckled, shaking his head as the squabbling continued and the two of them completely forgot about him in the meantime. He ducked past them, directing his steps over to the couch where Morrison was still sitting, looking as comfortable as one could be.

The broker tilted his head back to smile at the younger when Dante threw his coat over the backrest, holding out an already opened beer for him. “Took you a while.”

Dante accepted the bottle with a nod, hiding his grin behind it. He was not really surprised by how matter-of-fact that had sounded. Someone who could wait for him for years while still running his shop in his absence, could easily wait for him for a few hours to come around. “You didn’t even put the decorations up while I was gone?”

“Hmmm,” Morrison took the bottle back when Dante handed it over, following the hint to the empty Christmas tree. There was a smile hidden in the corner of his mouth when he turned back. “Couldn’t be sure what would happen if we put too many festive things up.”

“What - did you expect me to come back and burn it down on a rampage?”

“That, or Lady doing the same if we overdid it with the clichés.”

The chuckle bursting out of Dante was wholly unexpected even for himself, and he coughed for a moment, faltering, before he managed to swallow and then breathe again. “Fair enough. The others?”

“Nero’s still out, Trish is doing who-knows-what as usual. Most of the others are in the kitchen, making dinner,” Morrison’s eyes crinkled as he nodded over to the kitchen door, something in his gaze saying Go on.

Dante hummed in understanding, already turning away.

If he reached over and squeezed Morrison’s shoulder in parting, as tightly as he dare to, then – well. The others were still occupied and thoroughly distracted, and the gesture went as unseen as the answering pat of the arm that Morrison gave him. Just as the smiles on both of their faces.

Entering the kitchen, Dante mused that he really hadn’t been in here all too often – he was actually surprised how many people and things fit into this room.

There was the muttering of voices mixed into the noise of someone cooking a right feast, but he ignored that for now, stopping right after his first step into the kitchen. Closing his eyes, he let all the sensations wash over him for a moment.

The sizzling of things frying in pans and the hiss of boiling water and the clatter of kitchenware. The smell of spices and sugar, oil and fat, roasted meat and self-made dough and freshly cut vegetables. The sound of talking and giggles and people bustling about.

He waited for a beat, expecting the memories to come rushing back, but it didn’t happen. They were still there, a notion of cinnamon-sugar-spice and everything connected to it, but he didn’t feel overwhelmed by it.

It was different enough to be new.

It was familiar enough to feel like home.

“Dante!”

He opened his eyes again, smile curling around his lips as he noticed he had been spotted.

Kyrie was holding her flour covered hands awkwardly to the side before realizing it, clapping them down against her apron to dust them off. “Oh, I’m glad you’re back, we were already starting to worry… not that you need any help, usually, so there’s that, of course. I hope you don’t mind we took over your kitchen? We figured, you know, celebrating or not, you wouldn’t say No to some dinner and perhaps it would cheer you up-….”

She was rambling. Dante supposed that had to do with how he had left, and the worry and guilt on her face when she had asked if they should leave.

It was understandable, but absolutely unnecessary.

He had already lost too much time with worrying over what to do.

Stepping forward, Dante huffed a laugh when Kyrie’s words tapered off in surprise, not exactly giving her time to recover before carefully but resolutely drawing her into a one-armed hug.

He more felt than saw her breath catch, her frame going stiff in surprise against him for the slightest bit – before she responded enthusiastically, throwing both of her arms around him to hold on tight.

“Welcome back.” The word were quiet yet fervently whispered against his shoulder. Making him tighten his grip just the slightest bit.

If there was a good way to tell her all the conflicting things he felt, all the gratitude laced through it, with few or no words at all, then he didn’t know it. So he did the only thing he knew to do - holding on, allowing himself to linger for a second.

Once she stepped back, clearing her throat and smiling at him, he pretended not to see the wet glistening in the corner of her eyes.

“D’awwww, you guys are really cute sometimes.”

Kyrie burst into laughter beside him, barely restraining herself with a hand covering her mouth. Dante, meanwhile, turned towards their audience at the kitchen table with his arms spread out wide. “Excuse me? Kyrie, perhaps, but I’m clearly too handsome to be cute.”

“Nope,” Nico shook her head, pointing with the fork in her hand for emphasis. “Cute and handsome doesn’t cancel each other out. No getting out of this one, mate.”

With a faked groan, Lady shoved the younger woman with her elbow. “Don’t encourage him any more, it’s a miracle his ego even fits through the door as it is.”

“I mean, does it matter anymore? He encourages himself anyway.”

“I do so hate when you’re right about things like that,” Lady grumbled, helping herself to something from one of the plates. Nico simply snorted, shrugging good naturedly before joining her.

The gesture drew Dante’s attention to the various plates and dishes standing around on every available surface, dishes among it that he hadn’t even seen or heard about before, and he whistled through his teeth. “You outdid yourself on these, Kyrie.”

“Oh, I didn’t do much,” the young woman waved it off while turning towards the stove again. “I had lots of help!”

“Yeah, we helped!” Angelo declared, looking up. He was kneeling before the oven, watching it intently. “Kyrie, I think it’s preheated now.”

“Thank you, Angelo. Careful, get away there, it’s hot!”

“Is that pizza I spot there?” Dante leaned over her shoulder as Kyrie balanced the gigantic tray past him.

“Right in one. We have pizza, roasted meat, vegetables, fries…,” she nodded at the kitchen as she put the pizza into the oven. “There should be more than enough for everyone, and for different tastes, too.”

“Well, I do know that this fits my taste,” he informed her with a smirk, reaching out to test some of the topping, cold or not.

Yet for all his superior reflexes, Kyrie proved herself to be fully capable of being faster than him when it counted. Like now, when she shut the oven door right in front of his nose, thwarting any further stealing attempts. All huffing noises didn’t help there. She laughed straight in his face when she turned and found him pouting at her. “Shoo, you! You will ruin your appetite like this!”

“Lady and Nico are eating, too,” Dante pointed accusingly over to the girls, who were indeed chewing on something. Nico waved at him, unrepentant, while Lady flipped him off with wicked glee written all over her face, muttering through a mouthful, “’Cause we helped make the food.”

“You just got an excuse for everything, don’t you.”

Still giggling, Kyrie patted Dante’s arm soothingly. “Don’t worry, you will get to eat as much as you want soon enough. Just a little while more.”

Shuffling sounded, and Angelo popped up between them, looking at them curiously. “Then, can we put up the Christmas tree in the meantime?”

“Tree!” Elisa joined her brother, peering over his shoulder.

“Well, I suppose,” Kyrie started hesitantly, looking from the children to Dante for approval. “If you get someone to help you with it…”

“Dante can help us!”

The conviction in that statement made Dante raise a questioning eyebrow. “Why, do I have to work for my food now?”

Angelo looked dumbfounded for a second, then flushed as he realized how he had made that sound. Shuffling his feet, the boy scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, that’s not what I…I mean…”

The awkward gesture reminded Dante strongly of a certain nephew of his, and it took quite a lot to hold back his laughter at the sight. He very barely managed and instead upheld the offended look just long enough to see Angelo waver some more, before he dropped the act and shrugged with a crooked grin. “Relax, I’m messing with ya. Sure, let’s do that.”

“Wait, really?!”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

“Awesome!”

With loud cheers, the children stormed past him out the kitchen, leaving him behind with ringing ears and wondering how none of their caretakers had gone deaf by now.

“Are you alright with that?” Kyrie caught his raised eyebrow and added. “Decorating, I mean.”

“I will manage,” he shrugged again as he strolled towards the door. “I know the colorful stuff is supposed to go on the tree, the rest should be child’s play.”

“Not what she meant!” Nico called after him as he made to close the door behind himself.

“Oh, I think he knows-…”

The door fell closed, cutting the rest of that conversation off. They would figure it out, he was sure.

Elisa was already busy trying to drag one of the carton boxes from under tree. The thing was approximately her size… and seemingly also the same weight, if the fact that it didn’t budge an inch was anything to go by. Dante snorted as he caught sight of it. Two quick steps and he lifted the whole box up with one hand, laughing as she pouted up at him. “Woah, princess, let me do the heavy lifting. Where do I put this?”

“So we are putting up the tree now?” Patty stood from the couch and came over, appraising the tree as she went. “You will have to get this thing into the stand first before you can put anything on it.”

“Oh, Nero said we should leave that to the adults,” Angelo commented, looking up from the box he had ripped open, tinsel and garlands in his hands.

“You guys talking about me behind my back?”

Nero stepped into the shop, dragging a hand through his hair and kicking the door shut without even looking back. The hard lines of his mouth eased as his gaze swept over the people present and caught on Dante. Inclining his head in the barest nod, he carried on. “And you started without me, too. Rude.”

“I would say you’re late,” Dante replied, imitating a mocking salute with his free hand, “But then I would have admit that that was, a tiny bit, my fault, so I will keep my mouth shut.”

“Right, old man,” there was laughter in Nero’s eyes, even as he shook his head. “You don’t get to talk.”

“Ah, silence. Not my strong suit.”

“And don’t we know that all too well,” that dry comment earned Patty a glower, and she stuck out her tongue in return. “I’m right and you know it. And stop playing around with that box, you’re going to drop it.”

“What, this thing?” Throwing the box in his hand up, Dante caught it again with a smirk. “And me dropping it? Why, I would never… whoops.”

The box tilted while he was spinning it on one finger, tilting dangerously to the horrified gasps of the people close to it.

Before too much could happen, Dante caught it, easily balancing it out with a grin on his face and mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “See? As if I would drop it. Pffff.”

“You...!” Patty shot him a look so dark it could have made a higher demon take cover, before she snorted and burst out laughing. “Dork.”

“Okay kids, no more playing with the breakable things,” Morrison declared, walking up behind Dante to snatch the box from his grip, despite all his protests. “Work first, then the fun.”

“Yeah, let’s put the tree up already!” Angelo demanded. “We were waiting forever!”

“Right, right. V, get over here, help me with this thing.”

The order made the young man sitting on the couch jump under his new blanket. Blinking in surprise, he pointed at himself. “Me? I don’t know how to…”

“It’s easy, I will show you. Come on.”

“Alright…”

Considering Morrison distracted enough, Dante ducked to the side and peered into the nearest box of decoration. Jackpot –ornaments and more garlands and tinsel. That, he could surely work with.

“That grin only means trouble.”

“No idea what you mean,” Dante told Nero when the younger stepped up next to him, batting his eyelashes at him for good measure.

The younger snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he crouched down beside him. “Right.”

Dante almost felt it coming, in the way the younger shifted next to him, tensing and relaxing as if preparing for something. So when Nero made to say something, he wasn’t even surprised.

“Don’t ask me if I’m alright now, Nero,” Dante interrupted him, low enough that nobody with human senses could hear it, his smile just softening the words enough to make it teasing. “That would be so out of character.”

Nero closed his mouth again, just looking at him for a moment. Then a flicker went over his face – the tiniest hint of a smile, something softening around his eyes – before he turned his head away, smirk in his voice as he spoke up. “Should I insult you instead?”

“I would be honored if you did,” he assured the younger, pressing a hand to his chest for emphasis. “Do your worst.”

“Ugh. Can you stop being weird for just five minutes-...”

“Kid, com’ on, do you really think I can?”

“Right, I forgot - that’s asking too much of you.”

“Uh-huh, see, you’re starting to understand me. There’s hope for you yet.”

The glare sent his way lacked any real seriousness due to the badly hidden smile: Nero did his best to cover it up by jabbing his elbow into the older man’s side, huffing a little in satisfaction when he got a pained grunt for his troubles.

Dante simply grinned into the box he was still digging through, content to work in companionable silence for a while.

Until he discovered a handful of tinsel strands that were just the exact same shade of silver Nero’s hair was in this lightning, and, in a burst of inspiration, held it up for inspection. “Hey, kid, look at that – I found your lost hair!”

Nero made a weirdly choked sound that could have been suppressed laughter or him gagging in disgust, spluttering, “Wha-…oh funny, old man. Haha.”

Dante started straight up cackling at the look on the younger’s face, flopping to the side not too gracefully. Still sniggering, he half-heartedly tried to shove Nero off of him when the other punched him in the shoulder – hard – and then pretended to shove him head-first into the nearest box.

He broke down in laughter all over again when he managed to throw some of the tinsel in Nero’s direction during the scuffle, considering the outcome of it a full success. “No, wait, hold on, let me put this stuff on you, you look so pretty with it!”

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“Aha, that’s one for the swear jar!”

“I don’t even care.”

Morrison sighed deeply, trying and failing to hide a smile as the silliness seemed to spread and infect the others – Patty dropped her work long enough to throw a garland around V’s shoulder, startling the young man, and Angelo held an bauble to his ear like an earring to see Elisa burst into giggles.

“Children, the whole lot of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tree was alright, Dante supposed.

Leaning just a bit too much to one side, maybe. And it was also possible that the garlands were to be put up first, not last so that they covered a few of the ornaments. Not to mention that ornaments were, perhaps, usually, supposed to fit together, not like these ones. Obviously someone out of the group had gone and bought them without checking for colors or if it fit together, so those that they had used were simple-colored in red, blue and violet, with a few sticking out with glitter and gaudy pictures on them

But it was a Christmas tree, and it was standing, and there were ornaments on it. Nothing had burned down, nothing had gone wrong like it happened so many times to all of them. Dante supposed that was as good as they could hope for.

And maybe, just maybe, there was also the fact that he was still breathless from laughing and arguing and bantering with the people who had helped set the tree up.

Nero carefully pushed one presents back under the tree after helping Angelo to try and figure out what was in it for the boy this Christmas. Patty was still teary-eyed from laughing over their antics the whole time. V somehow still had tinsel sticking to his clothes and hair because Patty plus the children had ganged up on him and decided he needed at least some decoration to brighten his looks – not his mood, per se, since he had spent the first few minutes glowering at them before cracking, joining in on their laughter with quiet chuckles on his own. Elisa looked ready to fall asleep on the spot where she was balanced on Morrison’s hip with Angelo ruffling her hair affectionately.

Dante himself had only just successfully managed to unwind most of the extra garlands that someone had tried to decorate him with (or strangle; he wasn’t too sure) from around his neck when loud laughter started up in his back.

“Did you guys try to decorate each other instead of the tree?”

Trish smirked at them, looking as put together and elegant as ever, especially in stark contrast to the mess they had made. A small white box balanced on her hips, she nodded towards those who still had glitter and more stuck to them, residue laughter dancing in her eyes as everyone starting patting themselves off with mixed mutters of defense and embarrassment.

Instead of trying to save his dignity, Dante sniffed archly and threw the last garland over his shoulder much like a fancy scarf. “What, you don’t think we look perfectly Christmas-y for the event?”

“More like perfectly idiotic. Blue isn’t your color, Dante,” she plucked the offending garland from his grasp and threw it carelessly over her shoulder. It landed neatly over the rack by the door. She assessed him one more time, eyes crinkling and lips quivering while she tried to look serious. “Hm. The glitter can stay, I think.”

“Huh. Didn’t notice the glitter.”

“Hardly believable – there is more than enough. Anyway,” she held up the box, balancing it on the tips of her fingers. “Where is this supposed to go?”

“Dessert?” Morrison asked, immediately taking a step forward when she nodded. “Let me…”

“Let me,” interrupted V quietly, stopping the older man with one outstretched arm. He nodded towards the dozing girl in his arms, smiling slightly. “You have your hands full.”

“True,” Morrison huffed a laugh, hosting the sleepy girl higher up in his grasp. “Hey, princess, wanna take a break until dinner is ready?”

“Mmmmmh,” Elisa muttered something unintelligible before turning, burrowing deeper into him.

“I will take that as a yes.”

“Say hello before you both fall asleep on me,” Trish gracefully handed the box over to V before pressing a peck to Morrison’s cheek, laughing. “There we go. Go take your nap now.”

“Like the old man I am.”

“That’s what you said.”

“No, that’s what my back is telling me,” Morrison grumbled while he stomped over to the couch, falling into it heavily while rubbing his lower back with his free hand. “Aw heck…”

Joining into the general bout of laughter that elicited, Dante reached for the kitchen door to hold it open for V when the younger passed by him with a muttered thanks.

There wasn’t even time to turn back around to the others before Trish was there, throwing an arm over his shoulders and humming thoughtfully while she leaned closer to scan his expression.

“Not that I’m against cuddling, mind you” Dante wrapped his own arm around her waist – the closest to a hug the two of them would probably get while being sober and unharmed – and smirked back at her “But did you want something specific?”

“You’re not going Ebenezer Scrooge on us?” Trish’s smile was teasing, eyebrow cocked questioningly. “I’m almost disappointed.”

“Do I even want to know why you’re familiar with that story? And I had my grouchy moment already. You missed it. Which is a shame, if you ask me - I was great.”

That answer didn’t satisfy her, frown tugging at her features. Of course it did not, he thought with no little amusement, because this was Trish, and if anyone had always seen right through his attempts of defending himself with sarcasm, it was her. Pot calling the kettle black, and all that.

So when understanding dawned on her face and her smirk turned into a wide smile, he mostly resigned himself to whatever was to come.

“And yet, you’re here. All Christmas-y,” patting over his hair and showing him the leftover glitter on her hand for good measure, she winked at him. “You’re starting to warm up to this.”

Dante wrinkled his nose at her. “Bah, humbug.”

Trish gave a laugh and shook her head. “I’m serious. I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much.”

“Serious, you? I think the whole Christmas cheer is getting to you.”

But it all didn’t help. She simply laughed even harder, pressing a peck to his cheek before slipping out of his hold with a last parting pat to his shoulder.

For once, he was actually glad she had left him alone instead of trying to get the last word. Else he would have probably ended up admitting out loud that he was, in fact, enjoying this, and there was absolutely no reason to affirm to her just how often she was right.

The kitchen door next to him opened up with an audible banging sound and Nico waltzed into the room, balancing a tray. “Out of the way, watch it, dinner is coming through!” She declared loudly while heading towards the pool table, holding her load high over her head as she went.

When she put down the tray – carrying a varieties of vegetables meant as a side dish – resolutely down on top of the table, Dante raised an eyebrow. “The pool table? Really?”

“You don’t exactly have any tables with space for more than two people,” Lady reminded him while pushing past him, carrying a plate of her own. “We are making due. Trish! There you are! Get over here, you need to try those thingies Nico brought. They are awesome. What are they called?”

“Latkes. After a receipt from my Grandma!” Nico informed her, grinning proudly. “A hit at every party.”

“Well, I can’t say No to that, can I,” Trish chuckled, moving over to the pool table where Lady waved one of the treats at her in a mocking replica of a Come hither motion.

That seemed to be the unspoken signal to take a seat for everyone, and the enticing smell of dinner made sure nobody even thought twice about it. In a joined effort, the entire collection of chairs in the shop and even the couch itself were dragged closer so everyone could sit. Plates were handed around, wishes for drinks were voiced, and seats were exchanged until everybody had found a place and a drink.

In retrospect, Dante couldn’t even tell how, but at some point he ended up in a chair between Lady and V, strategically placed nice and close to the pizza.

“Hey, scroogey McScrooge, mind handing me the Eggnog over there?” Lady elbowed him gently, chuckling when he rolled his eyes over her joke.

“Honestly, is everyone in on this joke?” Dante demanded, leaning forward to glance at Trish at the other end of the table. The woman had the gall to raise her glass at him, eyes dancing with laughter. He glowered at her, earning a pleased grin for it.

“Sure, did you expect anything else? Thanks,” Lady added when he topped off the Eggnog for her. “Have to say though, this is not bad.”

Following her gesture around the room, Dante had to say that, it really wasn’t. It was surprisingly… comfortable, with everyone being in high spirits, laughing and chatting.

“Hmhm, not bad at all,” quirking a grin, Dante raised his glass towards the head of the table where Kyrie was just taking her seat at last. “Kudos to the hostess, I have to say.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, it’s your shop,” Kyrie admonished, laughing.

“No, he’s right,” Morrison winked at Dante from the opposite side of the table. Raising his drink, he declared loud enough to be heard over the initial chatter. “People, I think it’s time to drink a toast to Kyrie, for having this idea in the first place and making it possible. Cheers!”

“Hear, hear!”

“To Kyrie, indeed!”

“Cheers!”

“Yeah, and thanks for the food!”

By the time the last cheering died down, Kyrie had her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with barely swallowed laughter. “You’re all so ridiculous,” she mumbled, voice quivering with giggles, earning herself another round of laughter.

“Kyrie, Nero? Can I give Uncle Dante his present now?”

The small voice speaking up effectively silenced the last bit of laughter, heads turning in surprise.

Elisa meet the baffled gazes with wide, questioning eyes, still looking a bit sleepy, but getting more and more awake by the second.

The group exchanged surprised and amazed gazes over her head. Nico mouthed a quiet You heard that? towards Patty, who nodded enthusiastically, eyes sparkling suspiciously. Dante raised an eyebrow at Kyrie and got a beaming smile for it.

Even now, quite some time since coming to the orphanage, it was rare for little Elisa to speak up in a group of people, and for her to do so audibly and to ask for something that she wanted was still new and precious.

When nobody answered her, Elisa frowned, reaching over to tug at Kyrie’s sleeve gently, as she had so often when speaking had been too much for her.

Kyrie exchanged a quick glance with Nero who shrugged, scratching his nose. Looking hesitant still, Kyrie turned back to her charge, starting, “Sweetie, didn’t we say we would wait until after dinner with the presents?”

Elisa’s expression fairly crumpled, her grip on the sleeve tightening.

“Oh, no, sweetie, I didn’t mean…”

“It’s just one present!” Angelo joined in, slipping from his seat to rush to the girl’s side. Planting both hands firmly on her small shoulders, he looked up at the adults pleadingly. “And we don’t mind waiting with dinner a bit longer, right?”

“Right,” Nico joined in. “And I’m curious now what the present is.”

“Yeah, can’t leave us hanging like that!” Lady added.

“We would all suffer from the curiosity,” V pointed out mildly, smirking when Nero rolled his eyes at him and murmured dramatic, dude.

“Fine, guys, I got it, it’s fine.” Kyrie shook her head with a wide, fond smile. “I don’t see a problem with one present being a little earlier than the others. Go ahead, Elisa.”

“Yes!” Angelo cheered at the same time as Elisa’s smile returned full-force. The girl turned and ran off towards the coatrack by the door, starting to dig through the bags that had been left at the foot of it with obvious glee.

The short pause in proceedings gave Dante time to flag Nero down, waving him over. The younger complied with a feigned sign, leaning in close to listen. “Yes?”

“What exactly do I got coming here?” Dante inquired, nodding towards Elisa.

“What, you nervous?”

“Kid,” Dante intoned, all jest gone from his voice. Nero straightened, smirk vanishing as he listened intently. “Nobody told me we’re supposed to have presents ready here.”

He nodded over to the girl who was still digging through the bags, looking to all the world as if she was on a very important mission. “I don’t have anything in return.”

The way Nero’s gaze softened at that didn’t sit all too well with Dante, but he ground his teeth together and stayed still instead of deflecting with more jokes.

“Dante, relax. This isn’t an obligation,” how Nero managed to make an eye-roll audible would always be a mystery to him. “The children already gave each other a bunch of presents, and we gave them something of our own. Elisa wanted to make something for you, too. That’s all there is to it.”

“Made it? Herself?”

“Well, yeah.” Now there was surely teasing in Nero’s voice. “Difficult work. Took hours. She was very excited to hear your opinion on it.”

“And you tell me to relax. You’re trying to make me nervous, you punk,” Dante groused under his breath, elbowing his chuckling nephew.

He had already been prepared to smile and be happy with whatever he got, since he hadn’t even suspected there would be presents for him. Hearing that there had been hours of work been put into this only made him more determined to love it no matter what.

He couldn’t help but reach up to pat Nero’s forearm reassuringly, rumbling lowly, “I’m going to be properly amazed.”

“You better be,” it might have been a threat, somewhere deep down, but Nero was smiling slightly while saying it.

Then the younger man was gone from his side, and instead Dante was faced with a little girl, flushed red and wide eyed in excitement, holding a roll of paper out to him with shaking hands.

Dante would forever deny that his hands weren’t quite steady either while unrolling the paper carefully, muttering. “Now, let’s see what we got here…”

There was rustling beside him, someone leaning over his shoulder to take a look as well, someone else gasping quietly before whispering “Aw so cute!”. He didn’t pay them any mind, occupied with starring at the drawing he had been handed.

It wasn’t too difficult to figure out what he was looking at, even for him - a portrait. The mop of hair drawn with silvery-gleaming colored pencil already giving away who he was looking at, the shoulders colored in red and the haphazardly drawn beard stubble in grey only topping it off.

It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he would have personally thrown anyone who dared to point out any flaw into the flaming pits of Hell.

Blinking hard, Dante cleared his throat, hmm-ed for a moment, squinted at the drawing some more (more felt than saw Elisa vibrate in excitement next to him) before he made a surprised sound, holding the picture away from himself as if realization had only just struck him. “Hold on, this isn’t a photograph?! Could have fooled me!”

Elisa burst into giggles, flushing red, while Kyrie squeezed her shoulder, whispering none too quietly “Told you he would like it!”

“Absolutely captured my roguishly good looks,” Dante declared, generously ignoring the way Lady kicked his shin under the table or how loudly Trish snorted over that statement. “I will need this framed. This gets a place of honor on my desk.”

“Oh good, then that desk is finally going to be used for something else than sleeping on it,” Morrison retorted, grinning even when Dante shot him a mock-offended look. “Oh, don’t give me that, I’m gonna get you that frame, after all.”

“You’re only half right, though,” Patty piped up, pointing with her fork for emphasis, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “He was using it to stash his magazines, too.”

“Fair enough.”

“Bunch of cheeky smartasses,” Dante muttered under his breath, not quite seriously, earning nothing more than stifled giggles and snorts for it. He opted to ignore them, instead rolled his drawing carefully back up and turned back to Elisa. Making sure to lean down to her eyelevel as he spoke to her. “Thanks for the portrait, princess. Best present I ever got, I might say.”

The beaming smile that made her entire face lit had been expected. The way she surged forward, throwing thin arms around his neck to hug him tightly, however, was entirely unexpected. Dante all but froze in surprise for a second before he relaxed, patting the girl’s back gently. “Woah there, slow down a bit. Not going anywhere.”

“Love you, Uncle.”

The words were whispered against his neck so quietly, but fervently, he would have missed it where it not for his sharp hearing. It silenced him better than even a sword stabbed through his chest could have ever done. His heart seemed to miss several beats, lungs too tight to draw breath.

“Are you happy, Dante?”

Dante cleared his throat, willing his body to cooperate. Wrapping his second arm around the little girl, he squeezed her gently, whispering back. “Love you, too, princess.”

If he buried his face for a second longer than necessary in Elisa’s tousled hair, blinking hard, then heck, nobody could prove it to him afterwards.

Another loud clearing of his throat, and he gently put Elisa back down to her feet, releasing her while ruffling her hair. “Okay, that’s enough cuddling for an entire week. Go get the first slice of that tasty pizza now, princess, you get the honors.”

Elisa’s laughter rang out like bells as she chased around the table, jumping straight at Nero, who caught her easily and lifted her onto Kyrie’s lap.

“So, does that mean we can start eating now?”

“Sure!” Kyrie shifted Elisa in her lap, dropping a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head, before looking up, gesturing at the table. “Everyone, dig in!”

“Oh god, finally, I was starving.”

“You ate the whole time while we were cooking.”

“Sampling makes me only hungrier!”

“Nero, do you think Dante will like my present, too?”

“Sure he will, bud. No doubt about it.”

The conversations started up again, flowing easily as everyone helped themselves to their food or helped others out to reach certain dishes.

Dante stood up from the table while everyone was distracted, mumbling something about being right back. Some heads turned, some smiles were sent his way, but nobody really questioned it as he left the table and ambled over to his desk.

The rolled up drawing found a place behind the photograph’s frame, tucked in there neatly until he had a right frame for it, too. Dante paused, considering both of the pictures for a moment, before turning back towards the others.

Not yet joining them. Not yet. From over here, he had a nice view of them all, and he luxuriated in simply watching for a moment.

Just as he watched, Patty showed Morrison something on her phone, both of them smiling down at it fondly (the distinct feeling that they had managed to snap a picture of his hug with Elisa crept up on him. He would have to get a hold of that one later). Angelo was retelling a story to Nico and V with flailing arms, causing the mechanic to laugh loud and cheerful and slap V’s shoulder, the young man chuckling at her mirth. Nero used the distraction to press a gentle kiss to Kyrie’s forehead, making the young woman smile up at him brightly. Trish and Lady clinked their glasses together, faces alight with laughter.

They had given him so much. The thought caused warmth to course through him.

Although it was soon followed by the niggling realization that he didn’t even have a small present for them in return.

He could vividly imagine their reaction, should he decide to voice this thought out loud. Could see them telling him it was alright, or tease him for worrying over something silly like that. Perhaps point out how he didn’t even have money to buy presents for them – and anyway, shouldn’t he pay off his debts first before buying new stuff?

It would be anticipated, would be normal, having them tease rather than be bothered by it. A nice and easy way to drop the subject and forget about it.

Only that he didn’t want to forget about it. It bothered him. He wanted to give something in return, this time, now that there was a time where he could.

Caught up in his thoughts as he was, he belatedly registered a sound from the direction of the door – a scratching, a thump. The sound of a hoarse cough.

Then something or someone banged against the front door with such a strength that the whole house front seemed to shake with it, windows clinking and wood groaning.

The entire shop fell silent as if sound had been cut off.

Rising to his full height, ready to jump into action should their latest guest try to kick down the door and join the party, Dante waited. The banging didn’t repeat itself. In fact, everything had gone eerily quiet.

Shooting a quick look towards the table, where everyone either looking at him or the door, Dante make a quick hand motion – wait; stay – before reaching for the top drawer of his desk, retrieving Ebony and Ivory.

Cocking both guns, he crossed the space to the door soundlessly, paused, listened – still almost too quiet – before ripping the door open and raising his guns in one smooth motion.

Nobody there.

But just atop the stairs and right in front of the door, sat a jute bag that seemed ready to rip at the seams.

After a second of confusion, recognition hit, and Dante looked up abruptly to check his surroundings.

On the streets, the roofs - no one was in sight.

Especially not a stranger in an ill-fitting Santa Clause-costume.

Deeming it save for now, Dante holstered his guns and directed his attention to the found at his feet. He briefly considered the possibility of this being a trap, before he shrugged and crouched down, reaching out to tug the bag open.

Nothing for it, after all.

Instead of a writhing mass of tiny demons or an explosion or something similarly trap-like (he had been there before), what tumbled out of the bag and towards him was an array of presents. Different in size and shape, but all neatly wrapped in gleaming paper, with bows on top, each of them having name tags attached to them.

With the names of his friends, Dante realized, more and more speechless and reeling by the second. There was one for Patty, and Nero, and the kids, and…

There was a note, on top of it all, so small and unremarkable in contrast to the rest of the content that he hadn’t noticed it at first. He plucked it up before it could be blown away, turning it to discover a neat handwriting, lilac shimmering letters assembled in neat rows -

Don’t get bright ideas - this is a one-time reward for not running. And to pay off some old debts - R.

“Dante?”

He turned his head at the call, shooting a look over his shoulder.

Nero was standing, hand reaching for a weapon at his belt – his gun, most likely, since the sword had been left next to the door – one eyebrow raised in a silent question. Lady had her chair tilted backwards, gaze scanning the darkness behind Dante as if she was just looking for someone dumb enough to prove a worthy target for her. A spark flickered over Trish’s finger, reflecting on the cane V had suddenly in one hand, playing with it idly. Nico was clutching her fork just a tad too tightly to be comfortable, free hand creeping for the bag at her hips.

Even Kyrie had halted her movements while cutting the pizza in half, exchanging quick glances with Morrison, who was conveniently placed between the door and the kids, and Patty, who was fiddling with her amulet, frowning.

Dante took a moment to really appreciate the sight – appreciate the bunch of people who were be ready to leap into action for him, not even thinking about the fact that there wasn’t much he couldn’t take on alone.

Not giving a damn, since they considered it a fact that he didn’t have to take it on alone.

Nero’s eyebrow climbed up higher, and he relaxed – just like the others around him, chairs scrapping and weapons being slowly lowered – seemingly considering it safe now that Dante had been silent for so long. A smirk tugged at his lips, caused by whatever he saw on the older man’s face. “What?

Angelo’s curly head peeked around Morrison before Dante could answer, trying to look past the open door. “Who was at the door? What do you have there?”

Dante tried to answer with something witty, he really did. But there seemed to be something lodged in his throat, making it difficult to swallow or speak.

And he found that, for the first time this evening, he couldn’t recall the voices of his childhood echoing in his head, even if he tried. Albeit not eradicated, but effectively drowned out by this newfound appreciation for this gathering of people who had made themselves at home here, with him.

So instead, he lifted the bag inside – heavy fucking thing, he nodded absentmindedly, there must have been more than enough for all of them – and held it up for inspection, a bright, honest smile making its way on his face full-force.

“Does that whole rule about waiting for presents until after dinner still stand, or can we make an exception?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rodin was fairly sure that the fact that it had started to snow while he was still out and about was a bad prank with him as the poor victim.

Muttering curses in tongues long lost and forgotten under his breath, he tried without success to get anything out of the cigar stump hanging limply from the corner of his mouth. Finally conceding defeat, he tugged the offending thing from between his lips and threw it over his shoulders, not even turning to see it disappear in a flurry of sparks and ashes.

He was digging through his pockets for a new one when a blast of cold wind whipped the seam of his red coat around, tugging at it as insistently as tiny hands. All his renewed cursing and tugging it back didn’t help, wisps of wind tangling in his fake beard and trying to rip the hat straight from his head as if to purposefully annoy him.

“Dammit all to Inferno and back again- enough!” Thundering the words into the dark of the night, he ripped the hat off himself, crushing it in his fist. “Enough of makin’ me look a fool for one century at least, ‘m drawin’ a line here, fuck’s sake!”

Nobody answered. Nobody laughed at him, not even good naturedly.

For some reason, he almost wished it had been different.

(How long since somebody had stood up to him? That somebody had laughed at him not in malice, but all in the name of joke? That somebody had laughed with him?)

At least the wind died down a bit. Grumbling to himself, Rodin pulled out his cigar case, retrieving one to put between his teeth. Hand hovering at the unlit tip, he chewed on it, frowning thoughtfully into the dark.

(He had tried to assess the kid’s age during their “conversation”, but the aging process of mortals had always been a mystery to him. The white hair certainly didn’t help, either, and neither did all that frowning. But it should have been… well a few decades couldn’t be too far off, could they? Decades. For him, nothing more than a blink – so why did it feel so long right now?)

“He’s fine,” he said out loud, not sure himself if he was talking to himself, the wind or the sky or something beyond that.

Wasn’t even sure where he should have directed this to – he couldn’t imagine either of the two he was looking for going to Hell or Heaven. Neither Inferno nor Hell, Paradiso or Heaven had ever held a place for them go to, after it all ended.

(He certainly hadn’t found them on his many travels through the realms, and he was glad for it. He didn’t have any interest in stumbling upon their souls, being tortured for eternity in their death. As it was, he could shrug it off and pretend they had, somehow, managed to escape, find an Afterlife of their very own making. He certainly thought those two capable of doing just that, of defying all odds.)

Clicking his fingers until a spark danced on his fingertip, Rodin continued to mutter to himself, “Stubborn, distrustful and cocksure, just like the devil himself, that one. No manners at all.”

Pausing, he considered his statement again, taking the first few calming drags, feeling the smoke curl down his throat. “Eh, guess he got your soft heart at least, Eva. Woulda liked that, I bet.”

The wind picked up again, catching the thin plume of smoke he blew out and letting it dance merrily into the night sky.

Suddenly, he felt a laugh bubble up from deep in his chest. Laughing at the shitty weather, perhaps. Maybe at the world, fucked up as it was. Maybe at himself, for standing around in the cold in a crappy Santa costume and lamenting when he didn’t even know for sure what he was lamenting.

He didn’t really care about what or that he might have looked like a lunatic to anyone passing by. He laughed and laughed until it tapered off into chuckles, then died down completely.

Oh, what the hell, Rodin mused, taking great pleasure in letting the flames dance from his fingertips over to the material of the offending hat still clasped tightly in his fist. Just this once.

Even someone like him, as infinite as the universe, should be allowed to get a bit soft around this season that humans had declared a holiday long ago.

What better time to become a bit melancholic than now, where the veil between worlds became thin, when past, present and future couldn’t always be told apart, and magic infused the fabric of being so strongly that even an ordinary person was treated to a miracle every now and then?

Rodin watched with grim satisfaction as the Santa hat finally fell to ashes in his hand, shaking it off with a derisive gesture, sending the flakes tumbling into the wintery air. The garment had done its deed for this year. Just as he had – more then, considering old debts had been paid.

(Next time, perhaps in a few more decades from this point onwards, when things got quiet and memories got loud again, he would be able to remember his past companions with a laugh and an insult on his lips, rather than the feeling that there were things left open and unfinished.)

For now, though…

He snapped his fingers and the rest of the costume fell away, vanishing into thin air while his usual attire replaced it. A second snap, and he held a fresh cigar in one hand, lilac flame dancing on the tip of the thumb on his other hand.

A third snap, and the air tore open in front of him, reality shifting and distorting to form a portal back to his bar.

“Back to business we go!” Straightening his favorite jacket again, he squared his shoulders and bared his teeth in a wide grin that would have sent demons and angels alike running for their lives. The darkness swirling inside of the portal swallowed him up when he stepped right into it, still chuckling to himself.

Behind him, the portal collapsed into itself. The snowfall picked up, the flurry of white flakes magnifying and filling in the footprints he had left in the thin layer of snow.

Minutes later, it was as if he had never been there in the first place.

#my writing #dmc #devil may cry #dante #fanfic #rodin #nero #kyrie #trish #v #lady #morrison #patty lowell #dmc 5

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toonstarterz · 6 years

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BECAUSE I’M NOT POPULAR, I’LL READ WATAMOTE: CHAPTER #141

The first half of Golden Week is over, and Tomoko has found herself the object of “platonic" affection for four different suitors. And as our intrepid heroine muses over the which of them to pursue, out of nowhere comes the dark horse. Once thought to be missing in action, this little girl, having been there since the very beginning, threatens to overtake the competition in one psychotic swoop.

Chapter 141: Because I’m Not Popular, I’ll Go to School with Kii-chan

The things that Stuffed Yuu-chan and Pals have seen...

Ah, the classic Introvert Burnout. I had a feeling Tomoko would be drained after having what may have been the most socially stressful time of her life. Not simply for being social, but for how much she had to navigate as a fish out of water. Each “date” involved a new experience for Tomoko to address, and that much effort at once can be really exhausting for a layabout like her.

That my friend is what we in the TvTropes community call, “Tempting Fate”.

Heeeeeere’s Kii-chan!

Can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this entrance. We all know who Kii-chan is. But even those outside of the loop would get a feel for who she is. Adorable and sweet-natured, but disturbing due to an apparent lack of negative emotions (even when appropriate). Ah, Kii-chan, it’s been far too long.

Nothing to say here, really. Just think it’s a particularly lovely picture of Tomoko.

Because the popularity of a manga series is largely dependent on real-time reception, it’s very common for mangakas to add new, “popular” characters, or give the spotlight to characters who’ve been out of focus. Watamote is no exception. It may seem contrived to bring Kii-chan back after being gone for a while, but it works here because it relies on Kii-chan’s character to it, instead of a series of implausible plot developments. Kii-chan is just considerate of her cousin’s schedule–that’s all we need.

The first hint of Tomoko’s reawakening as the role model onee-chan.

One of the perks of being a sporadically-appearing character is that you can really see just much the art style has evolved since the character’s last appearance. For Kii-chan, she hasn’t really changed much design-wise other than being a little taller. But even then, the linework is much cleaner and consistent this time around, which compliments the more “everyday slice-of-life” approach Watamote’s been embracing.

If only she could grow a nose.

The best thing about this type of censorship is that you don’t necessarily have to understand what's being censored. All you really need is a bit of context to put the pieces together. The outlines are detailed enough that we can see the characters as some kind of humanoids with animal features. And given what we know about Kii-chan, it makes perfect sense.

Y-Yeah, I...I’ve totally heard of that show.

Other than the whole Ucchi situation (which is slowly becoming an unintentional blessing), this is the last of the misunderstandings that still needs resolving. It’ll be hard, though, since this particular issue isn’t that troublesome. For now...

Look at that platonic sibling bonding.

Perhaps I’ve been conditioned by manga/anime, but I find it refreshing how Watamote has managed to develop the Kuroki siblings’ relationship while avoiding any incestual subtext. Lots of series oversell the sibling relationship by having them be overly affectionate and clingy. With Watamote, their bond feels organic because they don’t have to be touchy-feely. An unspoken quality time is all there is to it.

It’s hard to get a read on Tomoko’s emotions here, but at the very least, she seems troubled. It could very well be that Tomoko just realized that she’s changing in regards to the media she consumes. The former her would’ve probably jumped on the Kemono Friends bandwagon, but the reality is, Tomoko’s otaku interests are being compromised by the mainstream, at least as mainstream as rap battles get.

But the kicker is...she realizes this change isn’t all that bad.

Of course, nothing beats watching anime with your psychotic cousin.

The whole “pet-sitting” relationship they have here is a tricky one since each side is trying to accommodate the other based on “flaws” that don’t exist (or no longer exist). This usually results in an endless cycle of misunderstandings that lead to nowhere, but this confusion has transcended that cycle to develop into a progression of sorts. Similar to the Ucchi situation, the absurdity became so frequent that it just became reality. One that each side has been influenced greatly from.

With her constantly adorable face, you forget that Kii-chan is a middle-schooler and is therefore old enough to know about things like sex and perversion. Like Yuu-chan, she may look innocent, and while she was aware of such things as a kid, she didn’t really get it until they approached high-school age.

You know, I read this really good manga called Kaguya-sama: Love is War (shameless plug, I know), and they actually had a chapter about a rap battle a while back. Given that both series tend to be up-to-date on contemporary trends, it makes me wonder...has rap suddenly become a hot thing in Japan? Or has it always had its niche audience?

I’m sure many fans knew that this was going to be an inevitable development whenever Kii-chan showed up again. Unlike Tomoko’s school friends, Kii-chan wasn’t there to see the slow, gradual growth of Tomoko’s character, so it must have hit her like a ton of bricks to see her precious onee-chan go from helpless loner to mature teen in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes I wonder just how pitiful Kii-chan thought Tomoko really was...

Why would you censor Disneyland now of all times?

Those of us who were clamoring to get close-ups of the photos taken in the Disneyland arc finally get their wish.

The Kowarith photo is my favorite, even though two-thirds of the people in it are faking their asses off. While that may be my personal bias towards the Tomoko-Yoshida-Yuri trio, I think it reflects a better sense of kinship between the girls. The effort is there, phony as it is, to support each other in an awkward situation, which is fundamentally what the series is all about.

The assumedly Fireworks photo is also pleasing, make no mistake. You can definitely feel more genuine emotions (or lack thereof) being expressed than in the other photo. But this focuses more on the individual than how they work as a collective group, despite there being more people. The girls ultimately look like six different colored Skittles–part of the same package, but each unique.

Could this be the start of Kii-chan revitalizing her perception of Tomoko as a super popular girl? I sure hope so.

How ironic. Kii-chan’s perspective of Tomoko is starting to grow ever so gradually on the upside, whereas Tomoko’s perspective of Kii-chan grows more and more negative.

Hang on, is that supposed to be some fake Dragonite shirt? Neat.

At this point, people assuming that Yoshida as some kind of punk based on her looks is a dead horse of an issue. Some stereotypes exist for a reason, I suppose.

I see your game, Nico Tanigawa, using a deliberately vague line about “two girls” to make your readers overanalyze a single panel. All I have to say to that is that I am completely and utterly guilty.

One of the girls is probably Yuri, if only because she’s the only girl to appear in both photos. As for the second girl, your guess is as good as mine. I’m inclined to say Ucchi because if Kii-chan only has their appearances to go on, then Ucchi and her emoji-face make quite the impression.

I’m getting Yuu-chan vibes here with the way Kii-chan phrases half-insults with a friendly demeanor.

+ 1 TO THE HAREM.

Kii-chan is definitely that relative you leave a self-imposed boundary on. Fine in small doses, like at parties and family gatherings, but long-term exposure is unhealthy for the brain. This isn’t even a wholly exaggerated fantasy on Tomoko’s part. Okay, the eating bit is a little much, but given that Kii-chan allegedly dreams about treating Tomoko like a pet, the latter is right to be a little concerned.

There needs to be an AU one-shot of Tomoko, Tomoki, and Kii all going to the same school at the same time. Right. Now.

I do appreciate that despite Kii-chan’s deteriorating sanity, Tomoko doesn’t view her as a lost cause and even tries to put a positive spin on it. Reconciliation Arc is a-go!

Did Kii-chan really have that big of a growth spurt, or has Tomoko just reached her peak in height? Not sure how far the genetics will go, but Kii-chan becoming taller than Tomoko is only going to make her even more intimidating.

This little scheme of hers is definitely reflective of the “old” Tomoko, but there’s a nice reversal going on here. Instead of Tomoko trying to make things sound cooler than they actually are, she’s trying to make things seem worse. Of course, Murphy’s Tomoko’s Law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Especially if Tomoko wants it to go right.

Ah, Ogino. The only character whose relationship with Tomoko has remained relatively unchanged despite indirectly having the most impact on Tomoko’s life.

Better update her Wiki page now.

It’s pretty telling how it’s these two who cause Tomoko the most grief. It’s not the delinquent who routinely bashes her face in, not the pervert(s) lusting after her little brother, and not the otaku who passive-aggressively teases her. As for why, I think it boils down to the fact that Ogino and Kii-chan challenge her comfort zone the most. It also doesn’t help that Tomoko doesn’t interact with them as often as the others, so she hasn’t really had the time to get desensitized by them.

This freakin’ teacher, man.

The second worst part of Ogino’s “help” is that she never actually lies. Sure, she exaggerates to hell and back, but it’s always loosely based in reality, like some cheap movie adaptation of a best-selling novel.

But the worst part of it is...you can’t hate Ogino for it. Her personal assessment may be founded on largely suspect reasons, but it’s still an honest assessment. I have no doubts that Ogino really is proud of Tomoko, and that’s exactly why she’s the best worst teacher.

That’s true. If Ogino gave that spiel to people like Hijirisawa or Hatsushiba–y’know, people who don’t know her as well–they might actually buy that crap. But people who know Tomoko like Yuri or Nemo, people like us, can tell that Ogino’s sugarcoating the whole thing. Kii-chan, with her terrifying skill for knowing too much, is no exception.

Ah, I see. This is one of those put-all-the-secondary-characters-who-we-haven’t-seen-in-a-while-into-one-chapter chapters.

Can’t complain, though. I like Itou.

“Or something” can also be translated as “lust after Tomoki”.

We don’t really have much to go on for how Itou views Tomoko, but I think it’s reasonable to think that she may not see her in that good of a light. Not only did Tomoko give off a weird impression when she played off the whole fist bump thing, but Itou’s “powers of perception” probably made her aware of Tomoko and Komiyama’s frenemy-ship, hence her “warning” that Komiyama was around.

The Inherent Awkwardness of Second-hand Relationships: The Life of Tomoko.

Betcha’ no one saw this interaction coming. Whether it’ll lead to anything more remains to be seen. Itou’s still got the whole “friendship potential” going on with Futaki, but given that she has the tolerance to BFF Komiyama, I see no reason why she can’t befriend a psycho like Kii-chan.

That desire to “loudly blow” is Kii-chan’s inner demons screeching out in desperation for release. I pity the fool who unleashes the beast.

That does sound like your typical amateur definition of a psychopath, doesn’t it?

For the record, I don’t actually believe Kii-chan is a psychopath, despite the jokes I made. There are way too many moments that discredit such a claim. Now, if you were to accuse Kii-chan as being some sort of deviant (sexual or otherwise) I might see that. But ultimately, I think Kii-chan was just a victim of having her innocence shattered too fast and too soon, which made her more, uh, crafty than Tomoko could handle.

Man, it’s been a long time while since we last saw Dicky-chan, hasn’t it? Hope we get to see more of her (and Sayaka, for that matter) after this chapter.

I love how even when she’s collecting masturbation material, Komiyama has to hold her camera phone all lady-like. If the term “purevert” ever needed a concrete definition, this girl would be it.

Main Character privileges, that’s why.

Get. The. FUCK. Out. Of. Here.

With each subsequent appearance, Komiyama’s standard for what constitutes a bitch primed to steal away her Tomoki-kun falls hilariously lower. It’s not enough that a girl in their class makes two seconds of eye contact with him, nosiree. Any girl with an inkling of a relationship with Tomoko is not immune, even if it’s his own damn cousin. Granted, I don’t think Komiyama would be so pathetically scummy as to confront Kii-chan about it like she did to Yoshida.

...I hope.

“Best friends” may be stretching it now that we’ve gotten this far in the series. However, there is one aspect of Tomoko and Komiyama’s relationship that triumphs over all the others:

Absolute candidness. Even now, the only one who gets to see the complete, raw package that is Tomoko Kuroki is Komi-something. While Tomoko has made substantial friendships with the likes of Yuri, Nemo, and Katou, Tomoko still restrains herself just a tad lest she pushes them away. It’s only with Komi that Tomoko bears her full ugliness, which I think has developed into some freakish level of respect/understanding that none of the others can claim.

Damn, even the bishounen dude gets to make an appearance. All we need know is Lethal Chef Girl to make a cameo and I’m set.

Nope. Any game is an away game when your “harem” shows up to cheer you on.

A few people have expressed discontent with how the chapter seems to end so abruptly, and it’s a fair criticism. It may be the lack of a “Next time...” tagline throwing people off, but while this chapter indeed ends at an odd point, it’s not that unprecedented. Some of the previous chapters ended this way, like that time Komi was all “Oi!” at Yoshida at the cafeteria, which indicates that this chapter is likely one of those series-of-vignettes that also doubles as a build-up chapter.

On a positive note, while the chapter does feel prematurely ended, how the next chapter plays out if it is connected to this one is sure to be a surprise.

#watamote #watamote review #chapter 141 #no matter how i look at it it's you guys' fault i'm not popular!#tomoko kuroki #kiko satozaki #ogino #itou #kotomi komiyama #akari iguchi #tomoki kuroki #that one bishounen dude #review

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patroklosandachilles · 7 years

Text

Nightmares

Pairing: Solangelo Rating: Teen Word Count: 1459 Summary: Everyone assumes that Will is this bright and cheerful person who doesn’t have any problems. Little do they know that he has terrible nightmares like every other demigod. A/N: No one ever gives Will nightmares, it always only Nico and Will has dealt with some shit, okay, so have some hurt/comfort where they BOTH have nightmares. For @ylakerrananimehomo as part of the pjo discord valentine’s exchange. I’m sorry your original gifter couldn’t get you something in time, but I hope you enjoy this!

Bright, cheerful, “literal sunshine.” All of these words were used to describe Will Solace, and all of them fit. However, most people did not associate “literal sunshine” with “terrifying nightmares” so no one ever realized that Will had terrifying nightmares like every other demigod. No one in his cabin, or otherwise, had thought to ask him what was wrong if he showed up to the infirmary with dark circles around his eyes from a night of unease. Will liked to think that this was because they were a lot less noticeable to everyone but himself, and he’d grown accustomed to ignoring the part of him that was bothered by this. His cheerful personality wasn’t an act, but sometimes, when he’d had a particularly rough night, he felt like he had to put on an act so he didn’t disappoint or worry people. He didn’t want people to worry about him, that was for sure.

There was one nightmare in particular that seemed to haunt him no matter what. It was always the same. The Titans were closing in on Mount Olympus, and his siblings were dying and he couldn’t save them. Not only could he not save his siblings, but he couldn’t save anyone. Silena Beauregard was dying, and everyone around him was begging for him to save her.

You have to save her, Will, you’re our best healer.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t reverse the drakon poison, and everyone blamed him for her death.

You didn’t save her because she was a spy! She died a hero, Will! She did more than you’ve done for us! People are out there risking their lives and you can’t even save them! You’re useless!

This was about the time he woke up in a cold sweat, the words “you’re useless” stuck in the back of his mind while he tended to minor cuts and bruises in the infirmary and pretended that everything was fine.

Enter Nico di Angelo, the demigod who had basically saved everyone in the Battle of Manhattan with his army of skeletons. Will had somehow convinced him to stay at Camp Half Blood, and eventually gained enough courage to ask him on a date. Nico had said yes, surprisingly, and their relationship grew from there. The nightmares all but disappeared and he truly became “literal sunshine.”

While it was true that two campers of different genders were not allowed to spend the night in a cabin other than their own, no such rule was in place for campers of the same gender and Will and Nico had finally grown comfortable enough with each other to exploit that loophole. Nico had his own cabin, after all, which made the decision even easier. So after the campfire, and a promise from Kayla that the Apollo cabin wouldn’t burn down in his absence, Will simply walked with Nico back to his cabin nonchalantly. Either no one noticed, or they pretended not to notice.

“I’ve really been a terrible influence on you if you’re willing to leave your cabin in favor of spending the night with me. I mean you’re head counselor,” Nico teased with a sly smirk on his face.

“Oh shut up. You know I talked to Kayla. It’s not like I’ve abandoned them for my boyfriend—sorry, my significant annoyance,” Will replied with a smirk of his own.

“That was one time—“

“And I’m never letting you forget about it.”

Nico simply rolled his eyes, and opened the door to his cabin with a sigh.

“You know, I’ve been in your cabin before, but the death-themed décor really stands out at night,” Will observed as he walked into the cabin. He walked over to one of the curtains and held it up. “I mean, it’s just so drab.”

Nico laughed, and walked over to Will. “Gods, don’t you think complaining about the décor is a little gay?” It had taken some time, but Nico was now in a place where he could comfortably joke about his sexuality. After he’d said this, he stepped closer to Will until their lips were only inches apart. “So gay,” he added before finally closing that gap with a brief kiss.

Will smiled into the kiss, and sighed when they parted. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to add no homo at the end.” Will took Nico’s hand and squeezed it. “Would you like to leave your curtains in favor of your bed—no homo.”

Nico rolled his eyes again, and pulled Will over to his bunk. There wasn’t much to it, but some Mythomagic cards and figurines had ended up under his bed. He took off the skull ring he always wore and set it on the nightstand before he collapsed onto the bed, pulling Will down on top of him. “You’re a dork,” he murmured, looking up at Will with another teasing smirk.

“Says the guy with Mythomagic under his bed.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Their lips were inches apart again, so that wasn’t hard to do. Nico pulled Will down into a kiss that grew more passionate as time progressed. They’d decided that they weren’t quite ready for anything further at the current moment, although Nico did take off his leather jacket and toss it on the ground at one point. They stayed like that—kissing with the occasional break to tease each other—for most of the night until they shifted to a more comfortable position for sleeping.

“Why am I the small spoon?”

“Because you’re smaller, Nico. And I don’t want you to fall off the bed. You could break your arm or—“

“Please don’t list all of the potential injures I could get. I get it. Shut up and hold me so we can get some sleep.”

Will did just that. It was easier to fall asleep with Nico in his arms. Everything was perfect. That is, until his reoccurring nightmare changed. Instead of Silena Beauregard, Nico di Angelo was dying in his arms.

Nico, please, stay with me. I love you, you can’t—

He was a sobbing wreck, of course he couldn’t save Nico. Everyone around him shouted about how useless he was, that part didn’t change. Neither did the fact that he woke up in a cold sweat shortly after hearing the words. What was different was that Nico was there when he woke up.

“Nightmares?” Nico asked in a quiet, worried tone.

“Yeah…” Will trailed off, and was quiet for a moment before he quietly asked “How’d you know?”

“I know a nightmare when I see one. I have plenty. About Bianca’s death, about being trapped in a jar with only pomegranate seeds, about Tartarus…” Nico shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts of that literal god-forsaken place. “Do you want to talk about it? I understand if you don’t. It’s hard.”

Will inhaled deeply, and explained everything. How he couldn’t save his siblings that had died and ended up as head counselor because of it, and how he couldn’t save Silena. “I couldn’t save you. I couldn’t save anyone. I’m useless,” he said in closing.

“You aren’t useless.” Nico’s tone was sincere, and he lifted Will’s chin so that their eyes met. “Will Solace you will never be useless. I’d argue that you’re the most useful person at this camp. The world will always need healers, and even the best healers can’t save everyone. No one blames you. And besides that, you’ve already saved me, you’re worth more to me—“ Nico cut himself off, afraid of saying too much.

“What?” Will asked, his tone inquiring and encouraging.

“You just…you mean a lot to me,” Nico mumbled, his eyes finally shifting down.

Will smiled, and brought Nico’s face up to meet his in a brief kiss. “You mean a lot to me too. And thank you. Honestly. It was nice to be able to open up about my nightmares to someone…”

Nico blushed faintly upon hearing that the affection was returned. “You’re welcome. You can talk to me about them anytime, you know. I’ll always listen. I don’t expect you to be happy all the time. How you’re happy most of the time baffles me.”

“It’s not that hard when you’ve got a great boyfriend,” Will replied with a grin.

Nico groaned softly. “You are such a dork. I’m taking away your big spoon privileges for being such a dork.”

Will complied, and didn’t complain as he felt Nico’s arms around him. He fell asleep again, and this time the nightmares didn’t come back. Perhaps the solution was finally being able to talk about them, and being reminded that he didn’t need to be happy all the time. Or perhaps the solution was simply being the little spoon.

#solangelo #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo discord server #ylakerrananimehomo #this is my first fic in a while and my first pjo fic i hope you like it #r writes things #r's mediocre life

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demiboypercyjackson · 7 years

Note

frazeleo (frank/hazel/leo) for the small writing thing? if you don't want to its okay!!

YESSSSSSS FRAZELEO IS BEST…. i was legit disappointed when it wasnt endgame tbh give my girl hazel her smol and BIG bfs. and now, for your reading pleasure, dear anon~ i present, Dat Gay Shit™;

♡

It had taken a long time for Hazel’s boyfriends to start getting along, but oh, how grateful she was that it had finally happened. It seemed just yesterday that Leo and Frank were at each other’s throats, bickering over something pointless, something neither of them would likely remember if she were to bring it up even fifteen minutes afterwards. Things were better now, however, that Leo and Frank had begun to try dating as well. The connection between them had always been obvious, perhaps hidden behind a pretend rivalry over Hazel. Now that they were all starting to realize that everyone could be happy… things were getting a lot more fun and a lot less frustrating.

They’d even begun to have dates with all three of them there, intead of just Hazel with only one of her boys. It made her incredibly happy. Her favorite dates were spent curled up with the three of them under heavy blankets and watching movies. There was something very easy and enjoyable about watching a film with her boys’ arms wrapped around her shoulders, sipping at Coca Cola and hearing Frank’s little gasps or annoyed “what?!“s. Leo’s snide commentary wasn’t always as appreciated, but it made her laugh often enough that she rarely got after him for it.

On the first date the three of them had had together like this, at home on the couch with the TV on, curled up together with Hazel in between her favorite men in the whole world (‘besides Nico, of course’ she’d immediately reassure anyone who may have heard), something incredible happened that changed it all and broke the ice near permanently between Frank and Leo.

As the credits had rolled across the screen, Hazel wiggled her toes happily out of the blanket that she and her boyfriends shared to let them cool, her hands soothing Leo’s leg mindlessly under the blanket. Before she could ask, “Did you two enjoy the movie?”, Leo spoke first.

“Was that you, Franky?” The shortest of them asked, grinning ear to ear. He winked at Hazel and she tried not to laugh. She failed, of course, like always.

“Was what me?” Frank asked on Hazel’s other side. His face seemed guarded, but Hazel could see that hopeful/worried combo that always clouded his eyes when the three of them were together.

Hazel smiled and leaned against Frank. “I rubbed his leg is all, darling,” She softly replied.

He shifted a bit, trying not to jostle her off his shoulder, like he often did when he was nervous. She didn’t have time to ponder why he would be nervous, because immediately he said, in a mock-innocent voice, “You mean…like this?”

And suddenly Leo’s legs went flying off Hazel’s own and all she could hear was his loud yelp. She looked at him in alarm, only to find a huge grin on his face, his eyes as wide as she’d ever seen them.

“You… You just…” he stuttered. Hazel blinked once, a curl of hair falling out from behind her ear. Then, he continued, “You just tickled my foot!”

Frank was biting his lower lip to hide a big smile. His strategy was not a very effective one. “Me? No way, that was all Hazel. Only she does stuff like that.”

Leo was still laughing, grinning wide with his feet pulled protectively underneath himself. “I felt both her hands, Mr. Beef! You’re the only possible third hand! I know you’re the culprit!”

This shocked a laugh out of both Leo’s lovers. “Did you just call me Mr. Beef?” Frank asked, voice stuck between accusation and amusement. “You just called me Mr. Beef!”

“So what if I did! Stop being beefy and we’ll see where it goes!”

“Don’t make me tickle you again, elf ears!”

Hazel snorted, putting a hand on Frank’s chest. “I happen to find his ears very cute!”

And Frank’s smile could light the entire room. “Who said I didn’t?”

Leo stuck his hands under his armpits for lack of pockets to shove them into. He was the one biting his lip now. He didn’t have a witty one-liner for that one, though he might have said something about the state of Frank’s apple-red face if he had the mind to. His stomach was a mess of butterflies and his head was light and fuzzy.

“Sorry! That.. That was weird, wasn’t it?” Leo looked at Frank’s hilarious blushing face, so brilliantly red even in the dim lighting of the darkened room, and felt a horrible desire to be earnest. Disgusting, he thought at himself.

He got off the couch to put another movie in, for lack of anything to stim with. “I think most people think their boyfriends are cute, Frank.” He reassured him, absolutely not using his task as an excuse not to meet Frank’s eyes. No, definitely not.

Frank was quiet for a moment, which made Leo’s stomach clench with nerves. Then, in a voice bordering awe, he asked, “We’re boyfriends?”

“Well, I just said we are, so yes. All opposed say ‘I’?” When he finished putting in the next movie, he near died, realizing he’d have to turn around and face them. He turned quickly, faking confidence, hands on his hips in a classic, cocky superhero pose.

All he saw were two big smiles, a radiant one of pure delight on Hazel’s sweet, round face, and a rather goofy, lopsided one on Frank’s equally sweet and rather round face. Leo’s stomach lit up with butterflies and for a moment, he was worried he’d burst into flame and ignite them all, leaving them to only ash and cinders in his belly.

“Uh,” Frank finally managed to say, voice a bit shy. “Do boyfriends sit next to eachother on movie night?”

Hazel immediately began scooting, looking at Leo expectantly, face eager and made of 100% natural sunshine. Leo nodded a bit, hoping his face wasn’t dark with his own nerves.

“I’d imagine they do.”

So Frank scooted too, into the middle, and Leo sat awkwardly on the opposite side of the couch, pulling the blanket back over his lap and feeling his hands shake when his leg touched Frank’s. Hazel curled up against Frank’s chest, and Leo knew he could too, as Frank was easily larger than both of them, (damn you, Mr. Beef! Leo thought to himself) but he opted for a gentle lean against Frank’s huge arm.

Of course, this was movie night, which meant cuddling, and it could never be said that Frank Zhang was not a cuddler. He pulled his arm away from Leo, making Leo freeze with fear a moment, until a second later when Frank wrapped his entire arm around Leo’s significantly smaller shoulders. Leo really, really hoped he didn’t catch fire. His face already felt like it was burning.

But then Hazel pressed play and the Star Wars theme pulled Leo back into movie mode. Frank’s arm felt more comfortable than nerve-wracking and he slowly curled up against his bulk, copying Hazel. This was… nice. Leo closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying being cuddled by Frank. And if he missed the trademark Star Wars opening scroller, so what? He much prefered to appreciate the warmth of his… boyfriend. Leo sighed contentedly as Hazel’s hand found his to hold. Oh yes, he thought. I could get used to this.

♡

adslfjakd hopefully this makes any sense put together?? this took me a while but it was fun to write and i love these cuties….. i’ll have neeks tag it real soon!! thank you for sending an ask!! - mod will

#fraleo #frazel #hazelvaldez #frank zhang #leo valdez #hazel levesque #pjo #percy jackson #pjo ficlet #mod will #hazeleo #frazeleo

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skvaderarts · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 29: Reappearance

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Reappearance

Note: To that random person who gives me Kudos every single chapter… Thank you! I love this little community so much! You're all amazing. It’s the little things, you know?

(-~-)

For close to three days now, the bare walls of the now burned-out structure had been his only company.

Despite the fact that the grocery store had mysteriously caught fire and had swiftly burned down by the time that he had been alerted to the situation, the oldest Son of Sparda had known before he had even arrived what had caused this particular eventuality. But knowing was only half the battle; more like a tenth of it in this case since that didn’t do much in the way of explaining where his son and Magnolia’s young nephew had disappeared to.

He could smell the sulfur, sense the utter darkness that wafted from within. It was a faint thing that only someone who had spent ample time in the underworld would probably notice. But even though he had been gone for what felt like a lifetime now, that was something that he would never forget. The burning ash that rained down from above, and the frankly astounding amount of smoke in the air had made for a memorable experience, if not a negative one. The fire had been meant to cover up the telltale signs of the spell that had been used here, of that much he was certain.

Belial’s domain was so much different from the rest of the underworld in that regard. Although treacherous and utterly defiant towards the concept of producing navigable terrain, the underworld was verdant and lush, producing its own versions of forests and rivers, deserts and mountains. But the devil prince’s aura reigned supreme in the depths of his despair-filled circle of hell, and few possessed a reason to venture their willingly.

Oh, how he wished now that he had possessed some form of forewarning about him. It would have saved them all much pain and suffering. For as he stood there pondering the actions that he would have to take soon if nothing here changed, he felt that he could only blame himself and his hubris for the situation that he found himself in now. Why had he wandered to that clearly inhospitable area of the underworld? In retrospect, it hadn’t been to hide. It couldn’t have been. There had been a thousand better places to accomplish that goal. No, he had been wandering aimlessly, something that he rarely did, and for good reason, if this was the outcome. His thoughtlessness in the past had the potential to cost him dearly in this situation, and all because he had not trusted his intuition and left that place alone. His reckoning had come in a manner far beyond his scope of imagination, and he wasn’t sure what else he could do about it. It seemed that his enemy had played his hand, and he had played it very well.

To his understanding, the two of them had come here to buy… something. The Darkslayer hadn’t the foggiest idea what. After all, he hadn’t been there when they had made the decision to leave and come here. But he wouldn’t soon forget how things had played out after their departure. It was seared into his mind like a brand from a hot iron.

Nero had come rushing into the office in a terrible state, completely out of breath and in an obvious panic that he was making virtually no attempt at hiding. The Darkslayer had felt uneasy for reasons that he couldn’t explain just before that, and despite Dante’s playful if not annoying suggestion that it was probably his personal finances that were causing him so much upset, he had been sure that that hadn’t been the source of his unease. There had simply been a mounting sense of dread building in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he was so unaccustomed to feeling that it had totally blindsided him with its very presence. Contrary to popular belief, he did feel fear. He just refused to acknowledge its presence lest he allow it to control him. Nothing was allowed to override his prevailing sense of morality and logic, but what Nero had said had gone a long way towards undoing that ethos.

Gasping for breath and practically dry-heaving from the tightness that he had felt in his lungs, Nero had practically slammed the door off of its hinges upon entering, something that had earned him a perplexed look from his father, and an immediate look of concern from his uncle. Dante had immediately stood up and gone over to him, seemingly playing little to no mind to the condition of the door. His attention had been fixed on trying to discern what could possibly be going on with his young nephew. This was far from the normal state of affairs.

When Vergil had realized from his younger twin’s reaction that this specific behavior was severely abnormal for his youngest child, he had made the mistake of deciding to try and unearth the source of the problem. For all he could have known he might have been injured in some way, or something more complicated could have happened, such as yet another attack on some unsuspecting city. Those had been quite common since his return. Oh, how he had wished that he could have been further off base.

The look of absolute confusion and despair on Nero’s face had said everything before he had needed to even open his lips and speak a single word. Even when Nero had faced him down as Urizen, he had been more willfully defiant and forcefully optimistic than frightened, perhaps as a required mindset in order to defeat a foe that he knew outclassed him to such an astounding degree. And in some part due to that, he had prevailed despite the overwhelming gap in their size, power level, and readiness to fight. But the alarming uncertainty that the Darkslayer had seen on display at that moment had been all that it took to be sure that something more was wrong here than he might be expecting.

“Hey, you alright? You look like you just ran a marathon or something.” Dante had said almost cautiously, a lighthearted but otherwise serious tone to his voice. Upsetting Nero when he was already on edge could only end in pain and disaster, especially in regards to his office. He couldn’t afford more furniture. Dante hadn’t seen Nero this riled up since Kyrie had been taken by Agnus several years back. “Do you have any idea how late it is? Shouldn’t you be at V’s place?”

The eldest of the Dark Knight Sparda’s twin sons had looked at him with a similar look of apprehension and caution, concurring with his twin and nodding in agreement. Nero hadn’t been this upset since… well, he honestly couldn’t say. He was simply very flustered and seemingly- was he frightened? Was that what this was about? What could have caused something like this to happen? Nero was generally unshakable in his assurance that he could handle anything that his wild and chaotic life could throw at him.

“Yes, you seem… What is going on?” Vergil had asked, genuinely curious at that point as to what had gotten him so riled up. Had something unfortunate happened to his lovely domestic partner? Did Nico’s wild and chaotic driving finally get the best of them and result in a car accident? In truth, Vergil wasn’t sure what else could get his youngest son so riled up.

And then it hit him. He was alone. The dread and anxiety that he felt in the pit of his stomach suddenly washed over him like a tidal wave as he took a slow breath and released it, closing his eyes for a moment as he made eye contact with Nero, the younger man’s state now making more sense to him that it had ever before.

“Nero… Where is your brother?” Vergil asked, deep down already knowing the answer.

The almost pained look on his face answered for him. Vergil was positive that something inside him had died at the very moment that he had been forced to watch Nero have that reaction to his question. He understood now. Nero felt helpless. “I… I don’t know. He just disappeared. I think something bad happened to him. He’s been gone for almost six hours. V and Sirrus went to the store, and they never came back…”

Vergil had stared at him for a moment before standing up and redirecting his attention towards the front door. He stopped briefly to place his palm on Nero’s shoulder, unsure of what else he could possibly do to console him. Dante was probably more adept at that sort of thing. And either way, something needed to be done. He called Yamato to him from its place near Dante’s desk and pushed the door open, not even bothering to turn around to see where it had gone. He knew it would land in his hand, and it did. “You’ve done enough, Nero. I’ll handle things from here. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

And with that, he had left, not waiting around to see what either his brother or son would say. He could find out later once he knew where V had gone. There was only one store near his home, from what he knew, and it would not take him very long to get there. And it hadn’t, but when he had arrived, all he had found was a burning building and a mess of terrified onlookers screaming about how the store had suddenly gone up in flames with all of them inside. There had been no casualties, but that was beyond his scope of concern. He was here for one reason, and one reason only: V. And he was going to find him and take care of whatever trouble he had managed to stumble his way into.

But he hadn’t taken care of it. And that was why he was still here. Waiting. And he did not tolerate lies, especially on his own part. Belial would not make him into a liar today. One way or another, he would locate V, and then he would bring him home where he belonged, for his sake, and Nero’s. He utterly refused to give up on either of them, especially if Belial was involved. Condemning them to a fate like that would be his ultimate failure as a parent, and probably in general. But search as he might -and he had exhausted- he could not find any trace or indication of their existence. Aside from a small indication that he had found that magic had been used on the building, there was just… nothing.

He had been standing there now for at least two hours, fully aware of the fact that he probably looked insane to anyone who might be able to see him, but not caring in the slightest. This had nothing to do with any of them, and they would be wise to remember that and stay out of it. He was not some unhinged arsonist coming back to the scene of the crime after the fact. He was… well… a concerned parent searching for their missing child, something that he could not say that he enjoyed being. This was the second time in his life that he had searched exhaustedly for his son, only to come up empty-handed. But this time, he refused to leave until he had either a plan of action, or some indication as to what he needed to do to get him back. V was a very intelligent young man. Perhaps he left a clue of some sort?

As the Darkslayer considered this fact, a tear reminiscent of the one that appeared when they had witnessed Belial speaking to his underling in the abandoned factory appeared, only this one was smaller, no more than eight feet tall, and only about three feet wide. Vibrant white light poured out of the opening, making things difficult to see, but not impossible. He placed his hand on Yamato’s hilt, readying himself for a possible attack. He refused to believe that this was just some sort of unlucky coincidence. This had something to do with the reason he was here.

Just a few short moments later two figures poured out of the opening, crashing to the ground in a heap. One of them stated on the ground while the other attempted to make their way over to the phone booth that was no more than ten feet away. After the remaining light died down from the tear being closed, Vergil did a double-take, realizing rapidly that the figure who had just partially collapsed on the sidewalk was V, and neither he nor Sirrus was in very favorable condition.

Before he could manage to collapse entirely, Vergil managed to grab V around the shoulder and lowered him as opposed to allowing him to fall, unsure as to what was actually wrong with him. He went noticeably rigid as he tried to keep him steady, clearly expecting the worse, but a moment later when he turned him over onto his back, an exhausted but relieved look crossed his face. Vergil was going to ask him what had happened, but he never got the chance to.

“We both… Sirrus is hurt… Belial captured us and…” He breathed heavily, pulling in air that didn’t seem to satisfy him. Vergil glanced momentarily over at the red-haired young man, noticing that he was indeed bleeding badly. It seemed that they had both managed to become ensnared in one of the devil prince’s traps. “We tried to get away… Sirrus saved me and… There were black spikes, and I couldn’t leave him there alone…”

Unaware of how entirely delirious and out of his mind he probably sounded, V closed his eyes for a moment before his breathing stilled. It became shallow, more than likely weakening due to his less than favorable state. It was then that Vergil noticed that V too was bleeding badly. Nowhere near as bad as Sirrus, but still heavily. The deep cut and smaller puncture wound had a perimeter of black liquid around them, a trademark of one of Belial’s signature attacks. Vergil felt himself grow visibly paler. That was not a good sign. The devil prince secreted a black, toxic liquid not dissimilar to that of what they found around the corrupted conduit back when they had gone to rescue V, and anything that he managed to get into the bloodstream of… He doubted that either of them would fare well with that in their systems. That was, if they didn’t bleed to death first. This was not good.

They both needed to get to Magnolia. Now.

Vergil allowed V to gently rest against the pavement, very clearly unconscious now. Probably for the best, all things considered. It was a wonder that he had been able to speak at all, given his physical state. Vergil himself had not fared so well when he had gone up against Belial and come in contact with his toxin. And even then, he had done better than most. Apparently most went insane as a side effect, even if only temporarily.

Standing up, he removed Yamato from its sheath and slashed it across the space in front of him, opening a slightly larger portal than he normally did. He then returned the blade to its rightful resting place, and turned around to face the both of them. It didn’t take much to figure out that he was running out of time in this particular situation, and that Magnolia was not going to be pleased by this turn of events. She had been hoping for a favorable outcome from the moment that he had informed her of the situation. Oh, how he didn’t like the concept of having to inform her of her nephew’s condition.

(-~-)

Everything was quiet now, unlike when he had arrived. The horrified, agonized look on Magnolia’s lovely face as she had seen the sorry state that they were both in was enough in of itself to make him want to kill… something. He wasn’t sure what that would fix, and he didn’t care. It would just make him feel better to break every bone in the body of some unsuspecting demon for having the audacity to even remind him of his foe.

Magnolia had managed to stop the bleeding, but she wouldn’t give him an answer as to what she thought their odds of survival were. It was apparently one of those “wait and see” situations that he disliked so passionately. There was just far too much at stake in this situation for both of them, and her silent, almost mournful observation of them both did little to ease his concerns. Her hands seemed to shake slightly as she tried her best to do something more to help make them more comfortable, but for the moment, they were both unconscious, and all she had been able to do was administer something to them that she said might be able to counteract the toxins. She had been in the process of preparing more of the solution when he had requested that she allow him to use her phone, something that turned her head in surprise despite the situation at hand. Apparently, she had caught wind of his complete and utter lack of ability to properly use technology.

“Come to Magnolia’s house.” He said flatly through gritted teeth. And then he hung up the phone. There was nothing more to say. He was beyond words at this point. Dante would see soon enough. He had no idea how his twin would get there, but he was sure he could figure it out. And he didn’t even want to call Nero, but he knew he had to.

Seeing his reaction from a few feet away, Magnolia joined him, her pain replaced by a look of cold rage on her face. She was angry enough to kill by this point, but she was holding herself together amicably, fully aware of the fact that she was probably the only one present who had the power to do anything to help either of them in this sort of condition. “So what are you planning to do about this, Vergil? Because I know what I have in mind. I’d like to know if we are on the same page.”

“Why would you even ask me that? It should be obvious.” He said calmly, seething rage and utter hatred and contempt ligning every fiber of muscle in his body, and replacing the very blood in his veins with venom. It had been a long time since he had been this furious, this incensed. A very very long time indeed. And there would be hell to pay for it. He would make sure of it. Of that, there was no doubt. It was the only path forward against an utterly depraved act such as this. Lessons were going to be taught, one way or another.

“Because I was hoping you would say that.” A wicked, hateful smile crossed her face. “It’s time to pay my extended family a visit. We have work to do.”

He turned away from her, looking over at V as he laid unconscious in the bed, far too near to death’s door for his liking. This was easily the worst he had seen him look in recent memory, even when the cult’s attack was taken into consideration. Too many times he had seen him in this sort of condition. Too many times Belial had made the mistake of thinking that he could continue to endanger or even threaten his life. And too many times he had allowed it. That came to a stop here and now. This would be the last time that V found himself in this condition due to something that that petulant brat did to him. His sons would no longer be at his mercy. The games were over.

“Excellent. Because I’m going to destroy him, Magnolia. He had better hope for his sake that his arrangements are already in order.”

(-~-)

I got another update on the cover art today! It’s FANTASTIC! Such a unique design, omg! I think you're all going to love it! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a book cover done quite like this, so fingers crossed it turns out well!

I guess Dante got Mundus, and Sparda got… well, Mundus again, but also Argosax. It’s Vergil’s turn now. So glad that I was able to get this chapter out on time! I was worried I would have to cancel until next week but I pulled through! Here’s to hoping that it was worth it and that you enjoyed reading it! See you in the comments!

#Hiraeth #V #Devil May Cry 5 AU #Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #DMC #DMC5

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