#afterimagedi

alright u little shit u asked for it

dante doesn’t just love strawberry sundaes— he loves all things strawberry! strawberry soda, chocolate covered strawberries, strawberry shortcake, strawberry milkshakes, um, strawberries. he has a ravenous sweet tooth, so anything sweet is fine, but strawberries are his favorite by far.

his swordsmanship is absolutely lousy. he has no form, no balance, no sense of timing, absolutely nothing. he was never actually formally trained— sparda found the idea of teaching his young sons how to kill, even in self defense, to be ghoulish and repulsive— so everything he does, he does by the seat of his pants. were it not for his superhuman strength, he’d be a disaster. 

dante’s a menace on the road. he’s sloppy, impatient, and never seems to be paying enough attention. lady refuses… refused to get in the same car as him if he’s behind the wheel. it’s a death wish waiting to happen.

dante has… had a social worker, back home, after his little runaway stint. he had one before that, too, but that one couldn’t give two shits what happened to him and his brother — at least, that’s how dante felt. this one kept him on the right track. if it weren’t for her, he’d probably would have ended up homeless. again. she’s probably wondering what happened to him, right now. the possibilities are… not pleasant,

dante hates coffee and has to dump a mountain of cream and sugar in it to make it edible. he absolutely adores, however, those fruity, sugary,  trashy iced ‘lattes’ that are all the rage these days. you know, like a coolotta? this gave vergil a migraine.

dante shuts himself inside his bedroom and takes a long, long, long nap on his birthday, mother’s day, and father’s day. if anyone asks, he’s just not feeling up to it right now, sorry.

dante loves terrible movies  — ironically, or unironically, no one can really tell for sure. he has a whole shelf of some of the strangest, trashiest, nastiest movies ever known to man. movie night with him is a blast… or a nightmare. 

dante has not been in an actual relationship… ever. not even once. he’s been through more hook ups than he can count— more than he can even remember— but never anything substantial. there’s nothing especially wrong with that, not really, but the way dante did it was — not healthy, to put it lightly. in citta, his brother insisted he slow down and focus on himself, which he finally did, albeit a little reluctantly, after a very, very, very, nasty ‘walk of shame’, one that left him in shambles.

but his brother isn’t here anymore.

Dropped!

“Oh,” he looked at the other man. Presumably other man. It was less of looking and more like staring, absently wondering why he was dressed like that. Didn’t he know the basics of tanning a hide, not wearing the whole thing like that? Maybe that’s just how he is and there was no need for judgement. Rather, Mika wasn’t judging just full on curious as to why.

(A human wearing animal skins, or a hybrid creature of days past?) Brow furrowed, he observed the other from his position, looking down his nose from the height he found himself at. Closer observation revealed the former to be more likely truthful.

Hand held up in caution for a moment, he explained his staring.

(Sleepyhouse by Blind Melon is a song that definitely keeps my mood up!

i think it’s such a beautiful song and i never feel bad listening to it!) 

Mokou’s hair color is a result of her fire magic basically bleaching her (originally black) hair. As an otherwise unaging immortal, her hair will always grow back and wouldn’t grey naturally....but at this point its at the root level and would always grow back perfectly healthy, but still white.

Mokou made her own outfit, though she took in consideration then recent trends in fashion and had her friend Keine fetch the fire proof talismans she stitched into her pantlegs.

“I can’t say I’ve seen you around before.  Are you new to this setting?” he would ask.