How's My Driving?
This post is for comments/constructive criticism about things others like/might not like about Dante's character and how I write him.
As far as the criticism goes, please be adult (IE; coherent, concise and have a definite point) in your comments - all are screened. Positive feedback is of course very welcome, too. Also, feel free to leave notes about possible plots or ideas; those are always welcomed. ♥Other Info;Character Detail InformationCharacter VoicemailCurrently Active In:somarium
--what the shit
??[Someone's cranky. Surprise, surprise. But Dante hasn't been sleeping all that well, when he does bother to sleep. And emerging from his "cave" into his immaculate garage to find this precious gem perched on the seat of his motorcycle isn't helping much. Hence his scowl at the Dreamberry video screen.]
I sincerely hope to God
some fucker ain't pranking me. [It's not verbalized but NERO hangs in the air all the same.]
And whatever stupid ass douchebag's been stampeding the freaking horses up and down the streets all bloody night long, do the world a favor and find some fuckin' sheep!
[The transmission ends with Dante hauling the pumpkin outside and tossing it unceremoniously in the culvert.]
Violence, blood, family deathDream effects:
Fear, hopelessness, loss, followed by a tsunami of self-loathing Additional notes:
Passive dream. Jumbled scenario thanks to Dante's mixed blood. ( Our subconscious does not lie.Collapse )[The devil hunger suddenly, thankfully, jerked awake, nearly toppling from his desk chair at the shock of returning to consciousness. A quick inhaled breath, held for what seemed an eternity, was finally expelled on a long quivering sigh as he picked up the dreamberry and wordlessly turned it off.
[Un...fortunately, someone's just discovered the very minute, very faint scratches on a certain something of very high value, at least to the something's almost neurotic owner. And, of course, the response is predicable, providing one has any sort of acquaintance with said owner.]
[The feed clicks on when something mediumly heavy lands on it, revealing the dusty, cobwebby ceiling of Dante's place. The man himself is grumbling about something unintelligible out of sight, but there's another clattering clash as something made of metal collides with the wall.
The squeak of a chair as a heavy body lands in it, then scrabbling as gloved fingers pick up the device and, seeing it recording, Dante just snorts and removes the toothpick from between his teeth, giving the video a saturnine, absolutely bored look.]
...all right, y'wankers, entertain me. 'cause it's boring as shit around here these days.
Crack? Do not drink after clicking?Effects:
Large amounts of giggles, maybe indigestion for those not so luckyPrivacy:
This is what happens when you eat an entire XXL meat lovers pizza by yourself in one sitting and wash it down with an entire six pack.( Take a lesson, kiddies.Collapse )[Dante finally -thankfully- jerks awake, looking shocked and somewhat sick. He runs hands through his hair, rubbing his face with an explosive breath. A glance across his desk - because sleeping in one's office chair is awesome and manly, doncha know - and he spies the Dreamberry blinking away happily. He snarls under his breath, knocking over empty beer bottles and the empty pizza box off his desk before switching the damned thing off.]
[The Dreamberry is activated not by a PSA or anyone actually speaking, but rather by a heavy thud, which switches on to reveal the world at Dante's hip-level, as that's where he's fastened the thing while he's working. He's in the garage, tinkering with a metal box on the wall, in which are clustered a tangle of wires and cables.
Muttering under his breath, the devil hunter goes back to fiddling with the nest of electrical filaments, but all of a sudden...
( ...Collapse )
...annnnd Dante goes sprawling backwards, landing flat on his back in the muddy yard outside the garage proper. The video feed doesn't move for a bit and it's probably a good thing his rather foul invective can't really be made out all that well, but he finally gets to his feet and strips off as much mud as possible, all the while shooting dark looks to that metal box.]
...yeah. Totally forgot the damned grounding line
. Brilliant, asshole.
[Although the shop's trashed and his precious bike's gonna need another overhaul, Dante nonetheless has a bigger problem. It's not a happy devil hunter who comes into focus on the Dreamberry, annoyance mixed with worry deep in blue eyes.]
...hey, kid. This ain't funny, y'know. We got work t'do, dude.
[He scowls, glances away for a moment, then sighs before looking back again.]
You better fuckin' answer me, Nero!
Devil May CryDescription:
Located smack in the middle of the Industrial District in a derelict cul-de-sac sits the offices of Devil May Cry, Dante Sparda's base of operations. The sign
on the front of the decrepit building
flashes erratically and the entire place seems rundown and scarcely habitable. It is, however, fortified like a fortress; steel and iron reinforcing the deceptive outer shell. Cunningly located windows give perfect sightlines down the street and render ambush impossible. No one's gettin' within striking distance unnoticed. A concealed panel to the left of the entrance leads to the garage, through which the second floor can be accessed, as well as by the stairwell in the large main room. The front room
is sectioned off: a poker table with chairs, a pool table and Dante's jukebox and the liquor cabinet
occupy the far section, while his huge desk, chair and Nero's lumpy couch
occupy the other.
[Well, someone has a new toy. Thanks to Cid's modifications, Dante's new motorcycle is almost as badass as the one in his garage back in LA. ...God, he misses Tony sometimes...
But! No time for maudlin and mope. The devil hunter has a set of wheels and it's time to give those bitches a spin. Hence why he tosses the cleaning rag on the counter and picks up the Dreamberry, flicking it on with an easy grin. ]
Yo, kid. Headin' out a bit. Kitchen's gettin' empty. Anything you want? [Other than the staples: beer, whiskey - which, Nero, if you touch you'll lose a finger or four -, chips - you can have the Cheetos but hands off the Doritos, bitch -, and probably a pizza or two...or three, who knows.
Have a boyish blue-eyed grin, Somarium.]
Might be gone for a bit. Don't wait up. [A jaunty salute to the feed and it flicks off.]
[Well, someone isn't happy.]
--tter be getting me a fucking operator, RIGHT THE HELL NOW!
[And there's a string of explicatives, coupled with a few choice animal parts tossed in for good measure. A few clicks and beeps and then a scowling face appears, frowning hard enough to shatter rocks. ...and he looks rather taken aback, at that.]
...what-? Oh, by Lucifer's swinging ballsack, what the hell is this shit??
Devil May Cry[Point Taken from Canon]
Following events of Game Four[Age]
Not canonically given, but he appears to be in his early thirties via canon point. [Gender]
MALE, BITCHES. [Sexual Orientation]
STRAIGHT AS A MOTHERFUCKING ARROW[Eye Color]
Bright, bright blue[Hair Color]
HOT AS A ROCKSTAR, YO. Always wears the trademark red leather coat. [Clothing] Feast your eyes, people
. ( Rest under the cut.Collapse )