ⲒⲚ⳨ⲈⲄⲚⳘⲘ ʻᵘⁿᵈᵉʳʷᵒʳˡᵈ,ʼ rooted in ịṇf̣ẹṛụṣ, realm of torment infernī (n., 2nd declension) fiery abyss where order is upended and suffering reigns
Chicago, Illinois. Ịṇf̣ẹṛṇọʼṣ Ẹḍgẹ. In his world, love is a death sentence. In hers, it’s the only thing that can save them.
Melody Paskova has spent her whole life w̲a̲l̲k̲i̲n̲g t̲h̲e̲ s̲t̲r̲a̲i̲gh̲t̲ a̲n̲d̲ n̲a̲r̲r̲o̲w̲—top of her class, predictable future, a life thatʼs supposed to be safe. But one reckless decision —one wrong turn on the outskirts of town—lands her in the middle of a world she was never meant to see. She hears the engines first. The roar of motorcycles, the metallic clang of steel, the rhythmic hum of death–defying stunts.
Then she sees him. —D̲a̲n̲t̲e̲ˑV̲e̲l̲a̲s̲c̲o̲—
A name whispered in the dark, a man who rides the G̲l̲o̲b̲e̲ o̲f̲ D̲e̲a̲t̲h̲ like heʼs untouchable, a legend in the underground world of outlaw bikers and crime syndicates. But his real danger isnʼt just what he does on the bike. Itʼs what he does off it. Dante is more than just a stunt rider—heʼs the heir to a brutal empire, a man whose hands are stained with blood and gasoline. He rules in the shadows, a leader bound by l̲o̲ya̲l̲t̲y, c̲r̲i̲m̲e̲, & a pa̲s̲t̲ t̲h̲a̲t̲ w̲o̲n̲ʼt̲ l̲e̲t̲ h̲i̲m̲ go̲. And when Melody witnesses something she shouldnʼt, she becomes a loose end. A liability. She should run. He should get rid of her.
Instead, he claims her. Dante offers her protection, but protection in his world comes at a cost. The closer Melody gets to him, the more she sees past the violence, the cold control, the danger, to the man underneath. The one who lost too much, who was never meant to love. And Dante? He knows she’s his undoing. His w̲e̲a̲k̲n̲e̲s̲s̲. His i̲n̲e̲v̲i̲t̲a̲b̲l̲e̲ r̲u̲i̲n̲. But it’s already way too late.
ʻI donʼt just want you. Because in this world, l̲o̲v̲e̲ i̲s̲n̲ʼt̲ ju̲s̲t̲ d̲a̲n̲ge̲r̲o̲u̲s̲—i̲t̲ʼs̲ d̲e̲a̲d̲l̲y. I need you. And when the past comes for both of them, they’ll have to ʻYou donʼt belong And I donʼt do ˑneedˑ.ʼ decide what they’re willing to b̲u̲r̲n̲ t̲o̲ t̲h̲e̲ gr̲o̲u̲n̲d̲—before it in my world, angel. consumes them first. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.ʼ
˖G̲l̲o̲b̲e̲ o̲f̲ D̲e̲a̲t̲h̲ʼs Playlist˖ ʻIn the Endʼ by Linkin Park ʻLove the Way You Lieʼ by Eminem ft. Rihanna ʻTake Me to Churchʼ by Hozier ʻHeathensʼ by Twenty One Pilots ʻDemonsʼ by Imagine Dragons ʻBlackʼ by Pearl Jam ʻAfter Darkʼ by Tito & Tarantula ʻSeven Nation Armyʼ by The White Stripes ʻBlack Skinheadʼ by Kanye West ʻAngelʼ by Massive Attack, Horace Andy ʻYou Will Never Know Itʼ by Carpetman
Dante Velasco breathes like fire⸺⸺dangerous, volatile, and alive only in the chaos he creates.
His world is shadows, stolen moments in the night, and the roar of engines that drown out all reason
To him, there’s no light, just a suffocating darkness, a world that devours and demands.
But her—she’s different. A bright, fragile thing, pure in ways he can’t remember, yet drawn to
⸺ Go down in ⲒⲚ⳨ⲈⲄⲚⳘⲘ with him ⸺
She should stay far away...—he’s nothing but a wound, a destruction waiting to happen.
He’d break her if he got too close, but he can’t seem to stop wanting to.
She doesn’t belong in his world, and yet, here she is—unwittingly inviting the storm.
And for once, maybe—just maybe—he’s ready to destroy everything for a taste of the forbidden.
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