Sweet Victoria Zeppeli | she/her | Adult | Licensed to Simp | Youāre doing great! Hang in there! | Multi fandom writing blog | Inbox: open for Bleach requests, open for conversation~
You may refer to me however you like, the name is just something I put together as a semi-placeholder thing. But if you want something specific: Sweet or Mrs. Zeppeli will do!
This is a side blog for some of my fanfiction I donāt wanna post on my main blog lol
MDNI on suggestive works
Some of my writing is not straight up explicit but very suggestive, so yeah. 18+ only please.
This blog also contains DARK CONTENT
-A bit about me-
My main fandom right now is JJBA but I will hopefully be writing for some other ones!
I love a lot of the JJBA characters. I have a special fondness for Part 5 and 7 though~
Sweet V. Zeppeli is just a fun name I thought was cute, I like Gyro Zeppeli and think heās super hot but I donāt really seriously self-ship with characters. Sweet is the name of a band, and the V. stands for āVictoriaā the Roman goddess of victory, a play on how Gyro only lets the āGoddess of victoryā ride on his horse. And then Sweet Zeppeli is also a play on Sweet Zeppolis: the Italian donuts. Just felt proud of the name, so I wanted to explain it haha~ (and I think Sweet V. Zeppeli rolls off the tongue lol)
I like to think Iām super friendly and social, so I welcome conversation~whether simping or character analysis or just talking about what you like, Iām down for whatever~
Bear with me, lol
Requests/asks:
Youāll find I really like established relationship stuff haha~
My blog is NOT spoiler free
Will:
Suggestive
Dark content (yandere, violence, etc. Will be tagged: dark content)
Fluff
Angst
Parenting stuff
Preference for male characters but not a rule! I do love Lisa Lisa, Jolyne, Hot Pants, etc. too
x reader (gender neutral or female) (no physical descriptions for reader though, and Iāll try to stick to that with my non request writing too)
I do want to note that I wish to keep the characters accurate though so. Villains will act like villains even in x reader scenarios, and protagonists who do bad things will be written accordingly. (I do not condone toxic or violent behavior, that is why it is kept to a fictional setting.)
Part 5 and Part 7 are my favorites but Iāll hear out a request for others too of course~Please understand if I canāt come up with a satisfying work for certain requests though, itās hard to know what will spark inspiration and what wonāt.
I am currently caught up on the entirety of the main JJBA story
Wonāt:
Explicit NSFW (just ask if youāre not sure I donāt mind at all)
character x character (at least for requests)
Underage characters for romantic requests
If you donāt wanna see my writing or Only wanna see my writing, itās all tagged: Thus wrote Mrs Zeppeli
Iāll make a Masterlist if I end up making a lot of use of this blog haha, I have no idea how this will go lol
Stuff is cross-posted on my A03
Fandoms:
JJBA
Bleach (Characters Iāll write: most Captains and former Captains (including Kisuke, Yoruichi, Aizen, etc.) (no Toshiro or Komamura), Espada (Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Szayelaporro, Grimmjow))
Content: female reader, established relationship: reader and Eddie r married, violence and graphic imagery, mentions of Eddieās childhood trauma and abuse, unhealthy relationship, arguing, obsession, stalking, like. one adult joke, some personal hcs for Riddler but overall tried to keep it accurate to Arkhamverse, heās not a great guy
kinda long fic under cut~
Preface: First public DC fic wooo~ I love Arkhamverse Riddler. He seems so incredibly lonely and he handles it SO poorly and heās pathetic and petty and I love him. This is how Riddler should be, in my heart. Been losing my mind imagining how terrible it is to fall in love and date in Gotham. One moment your life is normal. The next your man is getting acid thrown in his face, or making you answer his riddles three, or turning himself into a giant bat
Starts before Arkham Knight, after City
This was intended to be a Drama Comedy so hopefully the jokes come off right lol~
Recommended listening: Feed My Ego by Mickey Darling
-Fifth Love-
Eddieās first love was Batman; though he wouldnāt call it love and heād be furious if you ever even suggested he had an unhealthy obsession with the vigilante. But itās true. Eddie talks about Batman more than anything else. And the Bat is the motivation for everything he does, such as his second love: the silly little game of tag heād been playing with the aforementioned Caped Crusader for the past few years.
Even that awful half a year when you were locked up in Arkham City, labeled guilty by your association with The Riddler, he kept himself entertained by inconveniencing the vigilante. You lost count of how many of those silly little trophies youāve made for your husband; you gave up keeping track after two hundred, but you mustāve made at least twice as many. And he didnāt even thank you! He just gathered them up and set about tucking them in all the nooks and crannies he could find in that awful place.
He was always making deals with unsavory sorts to do his ridiculous dirty work. But it was better than him wandering around those streets himself. So you swallowed your complaints, only out of fear of the alternative.
His third love was riddles, any and all. Eddie had some sort of riddle for you, every single day, without fail, since you married him ten years ago. Heās never repeated a riddle even once. Youāre tired of his word games; you grew tired after the first year of hearing them. Heāll now accept your surrender and tell you the answer as long as you give him one reasonable guess, and you can move on with your day, but back when you were newlyweds he would make you guess until he finally got frustrated and unhappily revealed the answer to you.
His fourth was engineering. Eddie really was a genius, though he frequently overestimated himself. He could probably build whatever he put his mind to. His current interest has been elaborate obstacle course-like puzzles for his beloved vigilante. Every day this past month heās been loading up his van with tools and gears and giant cords. Though itās a waste of precious time to unload all his gear by himself; one of the reasons why heās started bringing his fifth love along to these little construction projects.
āGod, Eddie, I almost had hope when you said we were going to the casino tonight,ā you remark, not surprised at all when instead he maneuvered the conspicuous white van around the back entrance into the elevator leading beneath the casino.
Actually, now that you thought about it, you were pretty sure Eddie was banned for life from every casino in Gotham since he found a way to cheat the machines, but eventually got caught in the act and then quite literally thrown out.
He taps his fingers impatiently against the wheel as you descend into the sewers of Gotham on a rickety old elevator Eddie previously attempted to decorate with a few garish green LED lights. āMy Dear, you know I think gambling is a waste of time. Itās much too easy to rig the machines and cards in my favor. Whatās even the point?ā
āMy Dearā. Eddie calls you that all the time now, his favorite pet name for you. He says it so often, soon he may think itās my real name, you muse to yourself, though it isnāt That funny, even just in your head.
āNo point, I guess,ā you reply disinterestedly, resting your chin on your hand, debating with yourself if it was worth it tonight to express your full displeasure over the past ten years of nonsense heās put you through.
Eddie, ever the empath, senses youāre a bit unhappy about something.
āWhat?ā heās already defensive, seeming to genuinely not understand why youāre already upset at him. āAre we fighting again? Already, Dearie? Have I offended you so greatly just with my presence? Or do you not like my driving? You can drive us home if you like,ā his tone is edged, increasing in speed and volume. If this went on heād begin rambling angrily at you, again.
Oh Eddie. For a guy so smart, he sure couldnāt read another person, even his wife of a decade, to save his life.
āI didnāt say that,ā you sigh. The elevator reaches the bottom with a disconcerting clang. The doors slide open shakily, slowly, and for the second time this week you find yourself back in the sewer to haul around buckets of green paint and wheelbarrows full of strange devices for your eccentric husband.
āBut weāveā¦youāve been doing this for a while now, Eddie. And, well Iām sure you know, butā¦ā you find yourself trailing off when he looks at you, his brow furrowed in frustration that you canāt ever understand each other. His green eyes are so muchā¦wilder than they used to be, really looking at him and seeing him like this makes it difficult to find your words, even when your request isnāt unreasonable: āA few months from now will mark our tenth anniversary. We should do something specialā¦maybe get out of Gotham for a bit, go somewhere sunny. Go somewhereā¦relaxing. We could use it.ā
He cuts the engine. āOf course I know about the anniversary!ā he practically shouts at you, though you canāt imagine why; you specifically said heād remember it. āAnd Iām working on something very special for it. Something very special for both of us that requires me to stay in Gotham and requires all my focus and attention. I donāt need or want to relax, what I need is more hours in the day!ā
If it wouldnāt piss him off further, if he wouldnāt immediately take your honesty as an attack, you would be more blunt with him. Still. It would be nice to tell him his lifestyle is killing him. You wanted nothing to do with his stupid one-sided rivalry with the Batman, in fact, the man had been rather reasonable to you given the nonsense Eddie kept causing and dragging you into.
It broke your heart to feel like you were betraying Eddie in any wayā¦but Batman promised mercy for you, for Eddie, if you would help him. Just help him save the hostages, at least.
Oh God. The hostages. The silly puzzles and riddles were one thing to put up with, but it was totally different when peopleās lives were on the line.
Batman kept his word and didnāt reveal you as the informant. And Eddie needed help. You both faced justice, for a time, but he never stayed contained for very long, and where would he be without his ādear assistantā as he called you when he freed you.
Eddieās health had been steadily on the decline for a while, but Arkham City opened your eyes to how far your sweetheart was willing to go, and how far his grip on reality had gone.
āIām not doing this again. I donāt wanna be involved in this. Just take me home.ā
āWhat? But we JUST got he-ā
āTAKE ME HOME!ā he flinches when you yell at him.
Even now, when youāre so mad at him, it always feels bad; he never quite understands what he did, and you donāt know how to communicate it to him.
He mutters that this is ridiculous and youāre SO unreasonable, but heās not used to you actually being mad enough to yell at him, so he does as heās told; he turns the key and starts up the engine, u-turning so you can go back the way you came.
You both avoid looking at each other on the awkward ride back up, but even in your peripheral vision, his silhouette in the glaring green light makes your chest tighten.
Heās lost so much weight these past few years. Heās always been a bit slight, but back when you first met him his shoulders and chest were broader, he stood straight, he was more composed and took better care of himself.
Youāve tried. Youāve always tried to be consistent with insisting he eats and gets at least a decent amount of sleep, but he hated being nagged. So then you tried wordlessly leaving him meals while he busied himself with his desk projects, but they were left untouched half the time.
Youāve tried begging, bargaining, reasoning, but Eddie? Heās always too ābusyā to eat. He insists heās fine. But he keeps losing weight.
Heās stopped shaving, and you think itās partly because heās recently developed a tremor that comes and goes in his right hand, and every time you ask about it he claims he doesnāt have a tremor at all and that youāre imagining things.
Just thinking about him makes you cry. You swipe a tear from your cheek as he drives you home in this dreary, awful city. Youād do anything to leave Gotham. Youād do anything to take Eddie with you. But youāre always following himā¦why wonāt he follow you? What would it take?
āIām sorry for yelling at you,ā you murmur, leaning against the door.
āYes, well, that was rather uncalled for. If you didnāt want to come you shouldāve just said soā¦ā he mutters this last portion to himself, checking his watch as he drives: āwhat a waste of timeā¦so ridiculous.ā
Despite all the dirty money he made with his cyber crimes, the two of you always stayed in small, inconspicuous lodgings. He stops outside your apartment, not even putting the van into park, intending to drive off as soon as you were on the street. Upset about the wasted time? Upset over you? Probably some combination of the twoā¦he speeds off as soon as you shut the door on your way out, almost certainly complaining to himself about the incident his entire way back to the casino sewer elevator.
Alright.
Fine.
He spends so much time alone anywaysā¦maybe heāll cool off a bit by himself. You still feel a bit guilty about letting him go back alone while youāre both angry, but he is the most stubborn man you know. Trying to make amends so soon wouldnāt work anyways, and he clearly really wanted to get to work onā¦whatever he was working on so fervently this time around.
The apartment you and Eddie have been hiding out in was in a sorry state, much like the rest of Gotham. You climbed the narrow staircase, the darkness bleached in cheap, flickering white light.
Armed with the key, you fought with your second floor apartment door, having to jiggle the key and the handle in unison at just the right angle to finally get the lock to turn and the door to open. You shoulder your way in, and drag a hand down your face, taking in your miserable apartment.
Smells stale. Smells like home sweet home.
There wasnāt much point opening the blinds; Gotham was always cloudy. So you flip the light switch. With some effort, an unflattering yellow light eventually flickers on, illuminating your small, but cluttered living arrangement.
Partly finished contraptions lined nearly every wall. You no longer messed with them after you accidentally sliced a finger while trying to move one over. Eddie chided you excessively for touching his stuff, but his brow was creased with worry and he hovered over you helplessly, watching over you while you tended to the injury yourself in the sink.
Even then you didnāt yell at him for leaving such a dangerous mechanism right in front of the bathroom door. No wonder he was surprised today when you screamed at him. You never used to be so short with him; evidently Eddie wasnāt the only one deteriorating with time.
It was only six in the evening. But Eddieās strange schedule hurt yours more often than not. Sleeping while upset was probably bad for you, but youāre too tired to care.
Itās safest to stare at your feet while navigating the apartment. Youāre able to avoid stubbing your toe on any of his painful metal babies and step into your bedroom, turning out the living room light with the other light switch now that youāve safely traversed The Riddlerās Deadliest Death Mazeā¢. Heh. Youāre kinda like Batman. Maybe thatās why he liked me so much, you joke to yourself, and then felt a little miserable thinking about how your husband concerned himself more with a man he didnāt even know personally significantly more than you.
Your bedroom is not much safer. If there was one thing you could say with certainty about the Riddler, it was that he was thorough. Curse you, Riddler, youāve even booby trapped my bedroom! You mad genius! you think to yourself as you navigate over something much too frighteningly sharp to just be laying casually on your floor.
Mad.
You knew better than anyone that Eddie hated being called mad. If he could read my mind, he might not forgive me. āāMadā implies either mental illness or derangement, of which I suffer from neither!āhe would say. You apologize in your head for thinking about calling Eddie āmadā, even though it was followed by āgeniusā.
Eddieās home desk is pushed up against the wall by the small, frequently unused window in your small, frequently unused bedroomā¦when WAS the last time you and Eddie slept together?? In just a ālay down and fall asleep next to each otherā kind of way??
One time that immediately came to mind was when he passed out at his desk a little over a month ago from over-exhaustion, and you had managed to drag him into bed, thankfully in close proximity, but with his weight loss you probably couldāve hauled him further if you really wanted to.
He thrashed in his sleep, his head on your lap, muttering about shadows and bats, his voice cracking into a loud cry of terror whenever his father hunted him down and finally caught him in his dreams.
You placed your hand on his damp forehead. He was hot with fever. Oh Eddie oh Eddieā¦why does he push himself so hard? Why does he get himself sick? This all couldāve been avoided if he stopped snooping around in the filth under Gotham, if heād just adopted a somewhat consistent sleep cycle and ate at least one meal a day. Oh Eddieā¦he was in his forties now, but a part of him would always be that sad little boy in desperate need of his fatherās approval, only to be constantly met with disappointment and, more often than not, physical pain.
Oh Eddie. You stayed up and watched over him and ran your fingers through his unwashed hair and traced soothing circles on his back until his nightmares waned to a mild terror, and you couldnāt manage to stay awake any longer. You fell asleep propped up by a makeshift pillow chair, Eddie clinging to your legs and whispering in his dreams into the sheets. Did that count? You supposed not. After all, neither of you had fallen asleep on purpose.
You flop into the middle of your bed, the dark green sheets smelling faintly of your perfume and nothing else. You could lay wherever and however you wanted since Eddie rarely used it, and this evening you spread your limbs out as far as possible to take over as much room as you can, taking in the long, deep breath you so badly needed after yet another failed interaction with him.
You scream once. A loud wail, filled with regret. It hurt your throat, but felt good. You didnāt bother throwing a pillow over your face either. Screams often went ignored in Gotham; the only one likely to have reacted wouldāve been Batman, and only if he happened to be nearby. You smile at how ironic that would be. You, screaming out all your frustration with the Riddler in one pathetic howl, unintentionally inviting Batman to come crashing through the window right into the very manās civilian hideout. The petty part of you sort of wished he would, the devoted lover in you worried if Eddie could even survive another return to prison.
You hear your phone vibrating on the end table. You reach for it lazily. If itās Eddie youāre not in a rush to talk. And all your friends had stopped talking to you a while ago. They all (wisely) gradually moved out of Gotham, and got fed up with your terrible taste in men and your stubborn refusal to listen whenever they suggested perhaps dating the Riddler wouldnāt stay fun in the long run.
Unknown number.
You answer anyways.
āAm I speaking to Mrs. Nigma?ā
The voice is slow, deliberate and refined, intelligent, and yet the mere sound of it feels like enormous maggots slowly eating their way into your brain. A bead of sweat begins forming on your brow. You try to find your words. You donāt know this voice, but he somehow knows you.
āWhy?! Who are you, what do you want?!ā Eddieās line of work has led you to be in contact with unsavory sorts seeking blackmail material or delivering threats. With how long youāve been dealing with that sort of thing, usually you knew how to stay calm. But something about this particular voice is already sending you into a panic. His tone gives you the paranoid feeling he knows exactly where you are, and he is seeking very specific answers from you.
āAh, you must be her. Good evening, Mrs. Nigma, I hope Iām not disturbing you. Is Edward nearby? I must speak to him, but Iāve been unable to get ahold of him.ā You know better than to unintentionally tell this voice youāre alone right now by confirming heās not with you.
āHeās in the middle of something right now.ā God, Eddieā¦what was he involved in NOW?! Why didnāt he answer?! You imagine he mustāve pettily muted his phone, since youāre the only one who calls him on the regular anyways. That, or he left it in his van while heās workingā¦you try not to groan into the phone, adjusting to the awful feeling of phantom maggots in your brain. āBut I suppose I can leave a message for you, Mrā¦?ā
āDoctor, maāam. Dr. Jonathan Crane. Please have Mr. Nigma call me back at the earliest convenience, I have an important business proposition for him, and I would hate for him to miss it.ā
It was almost comical; he didnāt change his tone at all and yet you could sense every ounce of the threat behind his words. Maybe because the name alone was the threat. Jonathan Crane. The Scarecrow. Miraculously back from the dead, and asking for Edward Nigmaā¦
āWill you do that for me, maāam?ā You hadnāt realized how long youāve been quiet for until his voice pulls you back to the present.
āYes!ā you stammer out unintentionally. Fear made people do such foolish thingsā¦Eddie shouldnāt be getting involved. What could Scarecrow possibly need him for?! He would certainly only be using him, but youāre evidently already in his line of sight, and he was going to contact him one way or another, so it might as well be through you.
āExcellent. Gaining his cooperation through you would certainly be the most convenient method. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Nigma. Have a pleasant evening.ā
Now you know itās not just the paralyzing paranoia talkingā¦that one was Definitely a threat. The maggots in your brain donāt fade even when he hangs up, but the heavy presence in your room lifts away now that the threat has pretended to pass.
Dealing with the occasional thug, even dangerous ones like Penguinās or Two-Faceās gangs were one thingā¦but Scarecrow wasnāt motivated by petty things like money or fame. He was a Genuine reaper of chaos, a supervillain, dangerous, with nothing that could buy him when he had his mind set on a goal.
You scream a second time tonight; frustrated, angry, regretful, tossing a pillow from the bed as hard as you could into the wall. Itās not satisfying enough. For a moment you consider tossing the lamp as well, before thinking better of it once your hands wrap around its base. And for the second time tonight a small part of you wishes Batman really were like some sort of ethereal guardian angel and would swoop in from above to save you.
No, no, no. If you tried to contact Batman, Scarecrow would certainly find out about it. And Eddie might find out this time, too. And even if you somehow flew under both their radars, running to the Bat for help would almost certainly result in you and Eddie back behind bars.
Alrightā¦first things first. You needed to calm down.
You start yourself a warm shower, hoping the heat might loosen the phantom maggots Scarecrow had driven into your skull, and sink the goosebumps that had formed all along your arms as soon as that voice hit your ear.
ā¦
How long have you been shaking?
-
Authorās note: maybe a seriesā¦? I mostly wanna write chapter two just to write about Two-Face and Scarecrow meeting Eddie and reader in person lol
Omgg Arkhamverse riddler, I like him! Been a while since we had a chat lol āš
Oooh yayyyy yesss I like him lots heās so silly but has such a deep loneliness in his soul, I want to put him in my inventory. My brother has been getting me into Batman and my overall favorite in all the stuff Iāve seen/read has been Harvey Dent, but Arkhamverse Riddler is claiming a special spot in my heart lol~
Unfortunately Iāve been super busy lately, but Iām having a month of very little activity so Iāve been binging the Arkham games finally~
Sitting at the dentist and having a Very normal conversation with the nice lady sitting next to me while Iām editing an Arkhamverse Riddler x reader fanfiction I wrote in my notes app that morning
Being in this office is so cool. None of these people know about my Riddler fanfic
Hi, I love your writing! I was wondering if you were going to write a part two to Diavolos ' Perfect Night story?
Thank you so much!!!!!!! Honestly itās been a very long time since I went over Perfect Night so probably not, unfortunately, but thank you so much for taking an interest in my ficā¤ļø
For some reason I havenāt been getting notifications for stuff in my inbox, apologies to everyone whoās been ignored by mešš
Iāve needed to do a blog update for a while now
Regretfully, Iāve lost a lot of my love for writing for an audience, I feel my work just doesnāt feel like my own anymore when itās made to be posted. I have been writing all the time. But itās a lot of self-indulgent stuff thatās kinda just been for me. I love writing but Iām just not as creative a person as I wish I was lol. Iām just not very good at taking requests. I will hold on to all the requests in my inbox, hopefully address one or two, and Iām going to leave the inbox open in case I finally get a spark of inspiration again. I really really love reading the requests Iāve gotten, Iām sorry if Iām never able to come up with a good response to them! But thank you for sending them in!
Iām still on tumblr, just rarely posting, and Iām grateful to all my followers for bearing with me as I just. Donāt write that much for posting anymore. I appreciate you, and I hope Iāll get my desire back for writing for others again!
Iām new to DMC, Iāve only played the first game and I just finished the third game and I have so many feelings over Dante and Vergil, so I apologize for any inaccuracies but I wanted to write something for them. Just a quick fic where Dante drags Vergil back to the human world.
Content: blood and injury, kinda comedic kinda angsty, very short quick fic, might rewrite later, ngl Iām pretty sure they heal a lot faster but for the sake of the fic they heal pretty slowly
Vergil wouldāve thought slicing his brotherās palm open right as he purposefully took the final step backwards off the edge of a waterfall made it abundantly clear he did NOT want Dante interfering.
And Dante, as usual, was undeterred by the pain and already committed to the action; with even more stubbornness than he usually had. The brothersā clothes were soaked with water during their third duel of the night, making both of them heavier than Dante had anticipated, and for an irritating moment Vergil worried all Dante had succeeded in doing was tumbling clumsily over the edge with him by gripping his shirt.
Dante had somehow managed to dig his heels through the rushing water and into the slippery rocks, and even with his sliced hand slick with his own blood he had miraculously found the strength and dexterity to haul Vergil back towards him, sending the elder twin crashing gracelessly into the freezing, rushing water.
Vergil pulls his face out of the water a moment later with a gasp. He wouldāve been prepared to shut his mouth when he hit the water at the bottom of the waterfall, but being pulled forward was so unexpected he had left his mouth wide open and ended up inhaling an atrocious amount of water, coughing it up for an embarrassingly long time, trying to curse his brotherās name through each awkward hack of water.
āWhy do you NEVER LISTEN?!ā
Dante sits in the water beside him while he flips himself onto his back, for once too tired from all their fighting to really bother retaliating beyond calling him an idiot and splashing some more water in his face. Vergilās hair is damp from the fall, reverting to its flat, scruffy look, his dripping bangs in front of his eyes. Heās the spitting image of his brother regardless, but when his hair is down thereās no denying the family resemblance whatsoever.
āI heard you. You were just talking like an idiot, as usual.ā
Red streaks flow towards the waterfall; Vergilās wounds are large, having been sliced across the chest by his twin, not to mention the numerous injuries to his legs and arms. It was amazing he was even able to stand and almost throw himself off the waterfall in the first place, but now without the adrenaline motivating his body to move he knew immediately he wouldnāt be going anywhere anytime soon. Itād take a while, but he would heal.
Assuming Dante didnāt interfere. Heād been talking about killing him just five minutes ago.
āLeave me here. This was the home of our father. This is where I want to be.ā
āThere you go again saying the stupidest things Iāve ever heard.ā
āWe donāt BELONG among humans.ā
āYou donāt know that! You havenāt even given them a chance!ā
Vergil doesnāt bother trying to respond. For twins, they couldnāt think more differently. Talking things out has never worked, even when they were kids.
Dante always ironically complains heās way too quick to jump the gun, but Dante doesnāt listen to anything Vergil says at all.
āYouāre just cranky, cuz you lost,ā Dante adds, realizing Vergil wasnāt going to continue this conversation willingly. āThis is why youāll never get a girlfriend. As soon as you donāt have a comeback you use the cold shoulder technique instead.ā
Remaining quiet would only prove his point, and Vergil could never allow that. Instead his hand moves slowly through the water, the water flowing hopefully masking his movement. If he could just find his swordā¦it couldnāt possibly be farā¦he had dropped it when Dante yanked him, but the blade was too heavy to be washed away by the stream, so it could only be somewhere right next to him.
āNo comeback? You insult me.ā Vergil canāt believe both of them are smiling right now. Even with the rushing water thereās no way Dante couldnāt tell what Vergil was doing. He was just letting it happen, either confident things would go his way if Vergil did find Yamato, or he was looking for another fight. He finds the handle easily, gripping it tightly despite the searing pain shooting through his arm.
Vergilās fast, but given his weakened state and disadvantaged position in the water, his quick strike is easily dodged by Dante, who jumps up from the water and brings his boot down on Vergilās sword arm. Vergil jolts and squirms, all the action kicking up another helping of water right into his mouth. He coughs and sputters yet again, miraculously even more embarrassed than the first time, and attempts to use his free hand to pry Danteās thick boot off his wrist, but itās not happening with the strength imbalance between them right now.
Dante clicks his tongue. āThat was rude, big brother.ā In their youth Vergil used to love being called big brother, despite only being a few minutes older than Dante. Now the term of endearment is used exclusively for mocking him. āAnd yeah. No comeback. That was so pathetic a corpse couldāve dodged it, itās like you were trying to miss.ā
Once heās finished hacking up the rest of the wayward water, Vergil counters again: āif you were only going to mock me Iād rather you carried out your threat to kill me.ā
āHey, donāt tempt me, I could still change my mind. By the way, you know youāre not supposed to drink seawater, right? But I guess if you like it so muchā¦ā Dante maneuvers his free foot as if he was going to kick more water in Vergilās face, and when Vergil shuts his eyes and scrunches his face in anticipation for the attack, Dante stands down, satisfied with the submission. āThe great Vergil, son of Sparda, afraid of a little waterā¦I canāt believe Iām related to you.ā
When Vergil doesnāt retaliate in any way beyond a cold glare, Dante remarks that heās āno fun,ā and then kneels beside his brother, securing Yamato around his own waist.
āWhat are you doing?ā Vergil already protests with his tone of voice. Dante Probably wouldnāt steal Yamato, but the alternative was almost worse to him.
āYou know what,ā Dante smirks. Vergil protests again with a: ādonāt you dareā¦ā
āOneā¦ā
āNo.ā
Dante flips Vergilās bleeding body over while Vergil writhes in protest, cursing how the blood heās lost prevented his movement.
āTwo.ā
āDANTE. NO.ā
Dante maneuvers his arms under Vergilās armpits and around his back, lifting him out of the water.
āThree.ā
āDANTE!!ā
With some difficulty caused by his own injuries and the additional weight caused by the water and blood soaked in their clothes, Dante clumsily slings Vergil over his shoulders, securing him with his hands on the back of his knees and holding one of his wrists.
āI canāt believe weāre twins. Youāre so much heavier than me,ā Dante quips, pretending that him nearly losing his balance was just another tease. This was actually a lot harder than he thought. If he wasnāt also injured in a million different places itād be like nothing to him, but with his own cut hand and the blood and water weighing him down and making his grip unreliable, he braced himself for a much longer walk home than initially anticipated. āSeriously man, did you let yourself go or something? Thatād explain why you went down so easily too.ā
āIād rather death than thisā¦ā Vergil murmurs, more to himself this time, resigning himself to the fact that there was really no getting out of this humiliation. āAs soon as my wounds heal, Iāll cut you to ribbons, I swear itā¦ā
āI love you too, big brother.ā
āI donāt know what you think is going to happen, but nothing you can say will change my mind, ever.ā
āOkay~ maybe I canāt, but-OOF-ā
Dante, despite being injured himself and carrying a fully grown man on his shoulders, doesnāt pay much attention to where heās stepping, considering the ankle deep water no longer a threat now that Vergil isnāt actively swinging at him. He misstepped onto a particularly smooth submerged rock and nearly threw Vergil into the water again. Vergil hissed at him that he was an idiot, and thatād it be a lot easier to limp home if he gave up on dragging him back with him.
āTrust me, youāll thank me later. Maybe youāll meet a nice girlā¦Maybe thatāll calm you down~ā
āThatās ridiculous.ā Vergil lets out a humorless scoff of a laugh at the notion. Dante manages to shrug carelessly, even with Vergil slung pathetically over his shoulders.
āHey, you never know. Then you can really be like dear old Dad, right??ā even Dante doesnāt think itās funny, almost pushing it too far, only saying it for the sake of getting another reaction out of his brother.
Vergil doesnāt indulge him, not to his surprise, instead trying one more time to tell Dante he should just leave him here, and that his efforts to drag him back to the human world would be in vain.
Dante hums an old song from their childhood over the sound of his brotherās protests, after remarking that the trek back to the human realm was going to be a lot easier now that they were out of the water.
From the ask post you reblogged: #2 What movie have you watched most recently? What did you think of it? (I think the last movie I watched was Iron Lung and I really liked it!) <3
Oooh I havenāt seen Iron Lung yet but I am definitely curious, glad to hear you liked it~
My most recent movie was Godzilla Minus One, and I really liked it! Iāve seen a few Godzilla movies, and it was definitely among my favorites, I thought it was very interesting!
SBR WEEKLY RELEASE CONFIRMED HOW ARE WE FEELING CHAT
(it was kinda expected considering the... Interesting things that SBR fans were doing to netflix's accounts šš)
I cannot believe how these past few weeks have gone lolol I was TRULY experiencing ādisappointed but not surprisedā at its finest, glad to hear weāve got a weekly release schedule confirmedšš
For me the most relatable episode in SpongeBob is when heās trying to write an essay and procrastinates so hard he hallucinates his house sets on fire
The power fictional characters have over me is crazy today I was so SO upset I was about to cry as I drove in my car and I thought about Dante Devil May Cry and I felt a lot better excuse me why does this work-
