So I have a lot of good pieces stuck in google docs file for me to write in whenever inspiration strucks or I want to read something I made. I don’t know where to go with most of these pieces of text but like hell I’ll let them stay in that file for another year. And since it’s Mental Health Month on Tumblr, I’ve picked three particular oneshots that fits the theme.
Take care of yourself wyrmlings and remember, it’s not a weakness to lean on somebody every once in a while.
Yours
- Aldryrth (Al) The Chromatic Dragon
(art does not belong to me)
Warnings: angst, comfort
Fandom: Devil May Cry
Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, V, Beatrice (OC)
Note: This is written with an OC, I know this is not everyone’s thing but she’s a nice gal. I’m sure you’ll like her.
As Bea watched the two women running excitedly towards the tree, she started to walk in the same direction when she noticed Dante hadn't moved, watching the tree silently with the pensive expression.
Before she could say anything, Dante started to walk slowly towards the entrance. She knew something was wrong, she saw Dante this serious only a few times over the long time they knew each other. Whatever was waiting for them behind this gate, it was bigger, much bigger than anything they normally faced.
Before she realized what she was doing, she quietly reached for lapels on the back of his coat and gave them a soft tug. Dante stopped, heaving a tired sigh before he turned to her, eyes silently asking for a reason they were still standing here. Beatrice opened her mouth, mind scrambling for something to say but couldn’t come up with anything. What was she supposed to say? That it’s going to be fine, that she’s sorry that his life, their lives, is such a marginal clusterfuck, that whatever it is, he can talk to her? All those things sounded either like a shortsighted foolishness or things that were already repeated in the past, only for both of them to know that one just doesn’t just start to resolve years of trauma, grief, physical and mental battle. And Beatrice learned the hard way that she cannot save everyone, cannot help everyone. Only thing she can do is offer her strength and support. And that’s exactly what she did.
“Whatever it is behind this gate, we get through this together. You don’t have to handle everything by yourself. I know you can, but... you don’t have to.”
She put an arm on his shoulder, felt his warmth even through the thick, worn down leather of his coat, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Dante stared at her for a while, his expression unreadable. She started to worry she might have offended him somehow, or what’s more common, stuffed her nose in things that don't concern her, thinking she’s being helpful.
The last thing she expected was for Dante to envelop her in a tight embrace. He moved so fast, Bea hadn't fully processed what was happening until his strong arms squeezed her, almost painfully. She hasn't felt any warmth or good-natured humor from his stance, only a silent and sad need for comfort. Before she could react the moment was over. Dante untangled himself from her and immediately marched towards the Urizen tree.
Beatrice didn’t like the flash of determined but pained look on his face. It was the look she knew almost too well.
It was the look of a person who is about to commit atrocity in the name of duty.
“Dammit, Vergil, did you see the size of that thing?!” Beatrice turned to him excitedly, wildly gesticulating with her hands.
Vergil watched her with barely contained amusement, already used to her antics.
“You were so amazing!” She beamed at this and wrapped her arms around him in the heat of a moment, squeezing him tightly.
Vergil froze. He couldn’t remember when he’s been held like this, touched without murderous intention. For those brief seconds he couldn’t bring himself to react, to push her away, stab her, scold her or, lord forbid, return the embrace.
Beatrice loosened her arm around him when she noticed how stiff he was. “Verge? Are you alright? You know I’m not gonna hurt you, so no need to stab me.” She tried to joke her way out of it, but when Vergil kept silent she slowly, as if not to alert him, started to let go.
“It’s not that.” He blurted, his mind scrambling for words, he didn’t know why he bothered to explain himself, but there was something about her, something that allowed him to let his guard down just a little bit.
“It’s just that...it has been a long time since I...I’ve been touched in this...casual manner.” Vergil cleared his throat, hoping she didn’t notice the slight tremor in his voice.
Wishful thinking, she looked at him with sympathetic eyes, eyebrows scrunched with pity and Vergil wished to be anywhere but there. He didn’t want her sympathy nor anyone else's. He doesn’t need her, doesn’t…
“Oh, Vergil…” She whispered and enveloped him in her arms again.
For a while, they just stood there. Beatrice hugging him tenderly and him awkwardly staring at her shoulder. Vergil felt her warmth, smelled the sweet scent of her hair, despite both of them being covered in grime and demon gore, and her arms, still as strong in their hold as before, as if she’s willing to just stand in this dark, grimm void as the time passed around them for all eternity, until she was certain he had enough of her warmth.
Beatrice didn’t hear him pull yamato out of its sheath, which was a good sign, but she also didn’t feel him move or say anything which...she didn’t know how to decipher. Vergil was bloody hard to talk to, she still couldn’t believe that he consented for them to travel together. Maybe he really doesn’t like to be touched. Not everyone is so starved for affection and protection as she is…
Is what she thought until she felt Vergil slowly pressing his forehead to her shoulder. The arm is still holding the yamato, placing itself on her waist. Beatrice smiled to herself as the blue devil little by little pressed himself closer, closer still until they were both squeezing the grief and loneliness out of each other.
And for the first time in her life, Beatrice felt the alien feeling of content settle in her heart.
“That bastard called me a deadweight!!!”
An angry roar echoed around piles of rubble.
Nero paced furiously from one side to the other. One hand clenching in a tight fist while the other one was running through his hair. Beatrice watched him quietly from the sideways hands folded on her chest. He needed a time to vent first before he was able to listen to anyones words, that much haven’t changed since his younger years. She understood why he was angry. It wasn’t just the words that got to him. Despite his words, Nero respected and admired Dante, even moreso than her, so being cast away like this was painful kick to the heart. Not to mention Nero’s sensitivity to rejection, something he haven’t got rid off since his earlier years in orphanage.
Damn you, Dante.
She knew why he did this. It was the same situation like all those years back with her. He wanted to push him away to protect him, to make Nero hate him so if something happened he wouldn’t blame himself. A shitty technique Dante used everytime someone got too close to him. It didn’t even solve anything for anyone, just made things worse. She learned that the hard way. It was only because she recognized Dante’s true intentions and then stubbornly refused to leave him, that the two of them stayed together for this long.
The woman let out annoyed sigh. Dante was a mess when it came to his relatives, but what could one want from a man whose life was mostly marked by blood, steel and gunpowder. Nero wasn’t much better. The only reason why he was still stomping around here and not towards the demonic tree was because he knew she would drag him back until he’s calmed down. V’s eyes nervously danced from her to Nero. From the piece of concrete she sat him on, he looked worse then ever. Heavy, labored breaths raked his narrow ribcage and his entire body trembled. He looked like he was about to pass out. She knew they don’t have much time, but sending her devil-boy like this into fray would do more harm then good. V opened his mouth to speak, possibly to calm Nero, but Bice raised her hand in sign for him to be quiet and walked towards the agitated Sparda.
Nero was still pacing angrily, his body language growing more aggresive by the second. When she finally caught up with him she caught the words like “dead to me” and “worthless piece of-”, she wasn’t sure if those words were adressed to him or Dante. Bice placed her hand on the boy’s arm when suddenly, a fist flew past her face. The only reason she didn’t get punched in the face was thanks to her quick reflexes. When Nero realized what he had done, a horror flashed in his eyes.
“fuck, I-I didn’t mean to…”
Nero took a step back, scared and lost, all the emotions laying bare on his face. Beatrice could see it all.
“I…c-can’t do anything right!”
Head bowed, both hands now clenched so furiously they were trembling and face scrunched in a pained grimace. Beatrice knew Nero was tried to process all of these overwhelming emotions by himself and was slowly losing the battle.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m so…so sorry!”
All the turnmoil in his face accumulated in his eyes as they started dangerously glisten. A small involuntarily sob escaped him and Nero buried his face in his hands shame and anger. Curled up like this, he looked just like that little boy clinging to her shirt when the kids in school called him a freak, when Fortuna Defense Forces repeatedly rejected his application or when Credo died. He put on a brave face for everybody, but once he was alone…
Nero felt gentle but firm hands clasping his wrists away from his face. He still kept his head down though, too ashamed to show Beatrice, of all people, just how weak he was. But she didn’t let him, she never allowed sadness to cloud his mind and helplessness to weigh on his back. She lifted his head by the finger under his chin and looked in his face. Slowly, he peeled his eyes open, too embarassed to look her in the eyes. He was met with warm golden gaze of his guardian. No judgement in them, never in those eyes. Her hands framed his face, thumbs wiping away few stray tears that escaped his eyes. At that moment, Nero felt like those palms are the only things that hold him together.
“Feeling sad, lonely or frustrated doesn’t make you weak.”
He stared at Bice as she gave him a gentle smile.
“It makes you human.”
Nero let her arms wrap around as his face buried in her collarbone. As he listened to her steady heartbeat, he felt the strong pair of arms squeezed him strongly, as if trying to wring out the stress out of him.
As they stood there together, a pair of intense green eyes watched them curiously. There was something about this woman that felt familiar, it burned in the back of his mind but as soon as he tried to chase the memory, it disappeared.
A human, hm?
Need i say more...... #hapoybirthday best fwen 🙂🙂🙂 Hope u have a super one.... Todays all bout yu ... All the best in e future 😉😉😉 #hugzz (at Johannesburg, Gauteng)
