𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖕𝖔𝖙 @devilmayreply - Tumblr Blog

Devil Hunter for hire. If it's got fangs, claws, or a bad attitude, I've probably shot it already. Leave a job. Leave a problem. I'm not picky.

Devil May Cry independent role-play blog.

#PinnedPost

"Anyway, I win again. As usual. Vergil will recover in 3-5 business days."

#;; feel free to humour me

rottingkiss

Insolent FOOL.

How DARE Dante tell him how to speak for some sort of IDIOTIC punchline of a joke! Besides, nothing that EVER comes out of his brother's mouth could be considered remotely FUNNY. What an utter buffoon he's SOMEHOW related to.

Hand rests on the handle of Yamato. He doesn't yet draw his weapon, but oh how his gloved hand ITCHES to use it. With how this conversation is going already? It'll only be in a minute or so before he's burying it straight through the other's chest cavity.

Fingers drone on the hilt of his weapon, a tilt of his head following before he speaks in a TIGHT-sounding tone to indicate he's at the END of his benevolent PATIENCE.

❝Who's. Joe.❞

devilmayreply

Dante's grin snaps back into place the moment Vergil says it properly.

"JACKPOOOOOT."

He actually points at him like he's just solved a long-running case.

"Finally. Took you long enough, I was starting to think your brain just runs on error messages."

He rolls his shoulders, already fully committed, like there's no version of reality where this doesn't end in him winning something.

"All right, all right. You ready?"

He leans in slightly, eyes bright, practically vibrating with anticipation.

"Joe..."

A pause. Dramatic. Deliberate.

"...who?"

Silence hits.

Dante doesn't hesitate.

"JOE MAMA."

Immediate. Clean. Satisfied.

He laughs under his breath like he's just delivered divine justice.

"Tch. Man, I knew that was gonna land."

He gestures loosely at Vergil, like this is now a teaching moment.

"You really gotta stop overthinking everything. If you just relaxed a little, you'd actually get jokes instead of trying to solve them like ancient scripture."

He shakes his head, still grinning.

"This is why you don't have friends, you know that?"

He starts pacing a little now, warmed up, fully in his element.

"Anyway, don't act like that didn't hit. I saw your face. That was a reaction."

He points again.

"You hesitated. That means it worked."

Another grin, sharper.

"Checkmate."

He exhales like he's done something important with his life and turns his back half a step, already moving on emotionally.

"So yeah. Joe Mama."

He nods once, satisfied.

"Case closed."

#rottingkiss #;; devil's answering machine #victory conditions unclear but dante is celebrating anyway #vergil did not deserve this level of nonsense #he wanted information and got insulted across generations

"I told the truth. Just not all of it."

(throwing this at you sorry also hi!)

The Devil May Cry office smells like old leather, cold pizza, and something faintly burnt that no one ever bothers to identify.

Dante's leaning back in his chair like gravity is optional, boots propped up on the desk in a way that suggests he pays rent in confidence alone. He's mid-sentence when the phone starts ringing.

Again.

He doesn't look at it.

"...You were saying," he prompts Yumiko, like the sound isn't happening.

The phone keeps ringing.

He exhales through his nose, slow.

He snatches it up without breaking eye contact with her.

"Devil May Cry. If you're calling about the plumbing demon again, I swear I'm gonna..."

A voice cuts in on the other end. Too loud. Too eager. Too persistent.

Dante's expression flattens.

"No. No, I told you last time..."

He glances at Yumiko for half a second, like apologizing for reality itself.

"I don't do 'exorcisms on demand' like it's takeout."

The caller keeps talking.

Dante rubs his face with his free hand.

"Listen, buddy, I'm in the middle of something that actually matters, so unless your haunted toaster started quoting scripture, I'm gonna have to..."

Another interruption.

He pulls the phone slightly away, eyes narrowing.

"...You're still talking."

A pause.

Then, to Yumiko, softer, almost conversational.

"Sorry. Go ahead. I swear I'm listening."

The phone immediately starts ringing again before he even finishes the sentence.

Dante closes his eyes.

"...I'm gonna throw this thing into the ocean."

He answers again.

"WHAT."

#formaberserkir #;; office hours #he cannot catch a break this man is fighting demons AND telecom companies

rottingkiss

( @devilmayreply → starter call )

The pure white, feathery wings connected to the demon's back allows his descent towards the ruins that V vaguely described to him that MIGHT hold the sword of Sparda. That fragile man insists that it's NEEDED in order to defeat Urizen. At this point, Mattia is starting to think that this entire cause is DOOMED. If he were smarter, he would simply return home and allow all in this realm to perish. Sure, Mundus would call him a complete and utter FAILURE, but isn't that better than getting completely annihilated? The fruit probably tastes like shit, anyway.

A 'tsk' falls from his lips as feet connect to the ground, wings tucking into his back. Golden hues scan the surrounding area with a low whistle. This place is an absolute DUMP. Not only that, but no dazzling weapon in sight. He stands in place for a moment, debating his options of leaving until he saw something PECULIAR: a body of a human laying in the arms of a statue of sorts. He's seen his fair share of mortal body's, but curiosity beckons him to investigate.

❝Aha? The very reason for my EXSISTENCE is laying out on a silver platter for me. . . what IRONY!❞

Mattia barks out a laugh at seeing that it's Dante Sparda himself. He's trained his entire life to take down this half-breed down, but he's already DEAD! Tears of amusement fill his eyes as he places a hand where the other's heart is located, already imagining himself presenting it to his Father to prove he CAN do his bidding (somewhat). Ah-- but the demonic prince is in for another surprise: there's a heartbeat there! He yanks his hand away as if he's been burnt, blinking rapidly. The guy is ALIVE?! That . . . shouldn't be a problem. He can still please his creator, probably even more so, if he is the one to cause his end.

Yet, the demon finds himself giving the the white-haired man a shake instead by gripping his shoulders.

❝Hey! . . . I know you're in there, son of Sparda! You need to get up already and help me find that sword of yours. We can get it back, and then you'll do just as I say and defeat that HIDEOUS Urizen! I might just let you live if you open your eyes, hm?❞

devilmayreply

A voice drifted through the darkness.

It was distant at first, warped into something almost dreamlike. Then came the persistent shaking. Not enough to truly hurt, only enough to become increasingly irritating.

A quiet groan escaped him.

"...Five more minutes..."

The words barely resembled speech.

His head lolled to one side before another shake coaxed a sharper breath from him. Dust shifted beneath the weight of his coat as his brow furrowed.

"...Quit it..."

The silence that followed lasted only a heartbeat.

Then one blue eye cracked open.

Light bled into his vision in blurry streaks. Stone. Rubble. Wings.

...Wings?

His focus sharpened just enough for golden eyes to resolve in front of him.

Dante stared.

"...Huh."

Another blink.

"...You talk a lot for someone shaking me awake."

His voice was rough, each word dragged up from somewhere deep in his chest.

"So..." His gaze wandered lazily over the pristine feathers sprouting from Mattia's back before settling on his face again. "...Lemme guess."

A pause.

"Angel?"

Another.

"...Nah."

The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

"Too smug."

His eyes narrowed, studying the stranger a little more carefully now.

"...Demon, then."

There it was.

That smell.

Not blood. Not decay.

Hell.

It clung to him in a way no human ever could.

Dante let out a tired sigh through his nose.

"Great."

His head settled back against the stone with a dull thunk.

"I sleep for one month and Mundus starts making blondes."

Another beat passed.

"...Guess the old bastard finally got bored of the marble statue look."

The joke earned nothing more than a weak, breathless chuckle from himself before he closed his eyes again.

"...Hold on."

A frown.

"...Did you just say..."

One eye opened once more.

"...'help you find my sword?'"

His expression flattened into one of complete disbelief.

"Buddy..."

A dry laugh escaped him.

"You are either the dumbest demon I've ever met..."

He looked Mattia square in the eye.

"...or the funniest."

His lips curled into the faintest grin.

"...I'm still deciding."

#rottingkiss #;; office hours #dante would like to schedule his getting beaten to death with hammers for next tuesday #he's busy right now

rottingkiss

❝I wish HARM upon you, Dante.❞

He's unable to withhold his feelings on the matter as he turns his head, refusing to look upon his twin.

Vergil really ought to act on his feelings: PUMMEL his brother until he's bleeding all over the floor covered in little specs from pizza crust. Yet, he remains motionless as glacier-coloured eyes stare off into the distance.

Why does he humour him? SPOIL such a man-child, even? It's his own fault that Dante has this attitude of his. Vergil exhales sharply before he uses a low tone with the other.

❝Tell me WHO this Joe is.❞

devilmayreply

Dante pauses for exactly long enough to make it worse.

Not long enough to be thoughtful. Long enough to be smug.

His grin creeps back in like it never left, slow and infuriatingly certain.

"See, that's the thing," he says, rocking back on his heels like this is a casual conversation and not whatever emotional weather system Vergil has decided to become. "You don't just demand the answer. That's not how this works."

He tilts his head, watching him carefully, like he’s trying to decide how far he can push this before something actually snaps.

"You gotta earn it."

Then, softer, almost pretending to be helpful.

"C'mon. Say it right."

He gestures vaguely between them, encouraging, patient in the way someone is patient with a locked door they fully intend to kick in anyway.

"You know the line. Just say, 'Who's Joe?' That's it. Easy."

Dante's eyes brighten a little, like he can already see the outcome playing out perfectly in his head.

"And before you start thinking too hard about it, don't. That's your first mistake."

He leans in just slightly, voice dropping into something conspiratorial.

"I promise you, this is gonna be funnier than whatever you're imagining right now."

A pause. Then, with the kind of confidence that should legally be considered reckless.

"Trust me."

He straightens up again, hands in his pockets now, completely unbothered by the fact that Vergil has basically just declared emotional war.

"So. C'mon."

A grin.

"Say it."

And he just stands there like a man waiting for a trap to finally spring, absolutely certain he's about to win something, without considering for even a second that he might be standing directly under the blade.

#rottingkiss #;; devil's answering machine #dante has never been closer to death over something so stupid #this is the funniest possible timeline #someone take the pizza away before it becomes evidence

Continued with @rottingkiss.

Dante stared at him for a long, painful moment.

"...You've gotta be kidding me."

A hand dragged slowly down his face as though he could physically wipe away the secondhand embarrassment. Leave it to Vergil to turn a two-word joke into a detective novel.

"Vergil. Buddy." He sighed. "You're making this way harder than it needs to be."

He pointed a finger at him, expression deadly serious despite the grin threatening to break through.

"I'm not explaining it. That's not how this works."

A beat.

"You've just gotta ask the question."

Another beat.

"The normal question."

He made a vague circling motion with his hand, trying to usher him toward the answer like he was coaxing an especially stubborn animal out from under a couch.

"C'mon. You know the one."

Dante's grin widened by the second.

"Just say, 'Who's Joe?'"

His eyes lit up with unmistakable anticipation.

"I've got the funniest thing ready to go."

#rottingkiss #;; devil's answering machine #the contrast between vergil's internal monologue and dante's singular brain cell is incredible #siblings really will dedicate twenty minutes to a joke that should've taken three seconds

// Replaying Devil May Cry 1 and nothing prepares me for the sheer whiplash of this scene every single time.

#( ooc ) mun speaks #god i miss early 2000s voice acting #they really just let him say that #this line has lived rent free in my head for decades #Youtube

// Dante:

#( ooc ) mun speaks #Dante adopting every stray mildly concerning creature he comes across like it's completely normal behaviour

@rottingkiss.

"Creature?" He repeats, offended on principle. "That's Dante Jr. to you. And for your information, raccoons are highly intelligent, emotionally complex little guys."

Dante is already in full lecture mode, gesturing with a slice of pizza like he's presenting evidence. Something about dexterous paws, problem-solving skills, 'urban survival specialists,' all said with way too much conviction for a man holding a raccoon like a proud parent at show-and-tell.

Dante Jr. climbs higher, settling onto his shoulder like he pays rent there, pizza crust in tiny paws.

Dante doesn't even pause.

"You've been stuck in Hell for a couple decades, Vergil," Dante says, like he's trying very hard not to sound impressed by how out of touch that is. "But man...you are way behind on your animal knowledge."

A glance toward Vergil, smug and unbothered.

Dante Jr. doesn't help his case. He's perched on Dante's shoulder like he owns the place, calmly accepting bits of pizza like this is a normal household arrangement.

"See?" Dante adds, like it settles the argument. "Not a creature. A gentleman."

#rottingkiss #;; devil's answering machine #that's his SON vergil

// Dante in a Resident Evil setting wouldn't really be bothered by the zombie hordes, instead, he'd probably be more annoyed at the lack of actual raccoons, like he was sold on the wrong kind of experience entirely.

#( ooc ) mun speaks #dante vc: “It's called RACCOON city so where are the little furry guys??”#and then he'd adopt one #take it back to devil may cry #and name it dante jr.

skelesass

I'll take care of him.

#[ dante sparda ] “let's rock”

// Dante has no concept of folding laundry properly. Everything gets shoved into drawers until he needs it.

#( ooc ) mun speaks

sodiumpentothol

Redrew a random meme I found on pinterest as DMC characters because why not (there will be more)

zairas-realm-gateway

@mistyjudgement

#excuse you he's not just an idiot #he's an idiot with style~

devilhunterpatty

Patty crosses her arms as she listens to Dante continuously spit out excuses. While part of her is relieved that perhaps some things haven't changed after all, she can't hide the furrow in her brow as she exhales.

"Dante, you need to start taking better care of yourself. What's going to happen when...?"

What's going to happen when everyone else leaves?

Her gaze shifts to a pile of books haphazardly stacked in a corner and quickly moves to pick them up.

"I'm being serious! You need to have some sort of social life. You can't just be sitting here like some sort of recluse... And no, Trish and Lady don't count."

She plops the books onto the desk in front of Dante, suddenly perking up a bit. "I know! You should totally take me out to get some ice cream. Just like the good ol' days!"

devilmayreply

Dante opens his mouth with another smart remark already loaded.

It dies somewhere behind his teeth.

She doesn't finish the sentence.

She doesn't have to.

His eyes drift away for a moment, landing on nothing in particular. The office suddenly feels quieter than it has any right to.

Then Patty starts fussing with the books, talking a mile a minute, and the spell breaks.

He watches her march across the room like she owns the place, setting things straight without even asking. The corners of his mouth twitch upward.

Some habits really didn't change.

When she drops the books in front of him and enthusiastically suggests ice cream, he lets out a laugh, an honest one this time.

"Ice cream?"

He looks at her over the top of the stack.

"...You know, there was a time you would've needed a step stool just to see over this desk."

He reaches out and gives the pile of books an absent-minded tap, as though checking she'd organized them to her own impossible standards.

"Now you're lecturing me."

A small shake of his head.

"Man...getting old sucks."

He says it with exaggerated misery, but there's warmth behind it.

Then he stands.

Not because a demon burst through the wall.

Not because the phone rang.

Just because someone asked him to.

He grabs his coat off the back of the chair, giving it a quick shake before throwing it over one shoulder.

"All right, all right. You win."

His blue eyes meet hers, softer than they've been all afternoon.

"We'll get ice cream."

A crooked grin returns.

"But if anybody recognizes the legendary son of Sparda walking around with a grown woman carrying three scoops of strawberry with rainbow sprinkles..."

He points at her.

"...I'm telling 'em you made me do it."

He starts toward the door, only to stop with his hand on the knob.

Without looking back, he adds a little quieter.

"...Thanks, Patty."

The words aren't flashy. No joke tucked in behind them.

Just two simple words that carry far more weight than he'd ever admit.

Then, almost immediately, he ruins the moment on purpose.

"Now c'mon."

He opens the door.

"Before I change my mind and remember I've got a very important appointment with absolutely none of my responsibilities."

#devilhunterpatty #;; office hours

ombra-nera

Devil May Cry (2007)

#[ dante sparda ] “let's rock”

macabrecrxw

@devilmayreply ❤︎’d for a one-liner!

"must your dirty boots always be on the desk?"

devilmayreply

Dante doesn't even look up at first.

His boot stays exactly where it is, propped on the old desk like it's paid rent there. A faint scrape of leather follows as he shifts his heel a little farther, just to make the point.

Then he finally tilts his head toward her, lazy grin already forming.

"Must you always notice the important things?"

He taps ash off an unseen cigarette or just mimics it out of habit, like the idea alone is enough to complete the image. His eyes flick briefly over her face, then back to the ceiling fan groaning overhead.

"This place is held together by spite and bad decisions. My boots are basically structural support at this point."

A beat.

"Besides, if I take 'em off the desk, it'll get lonely. And you don't want the desk getting lonely, right? That's how furniture turns evil."

#macabrecrxw #;; office hours

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