#and now off to bed

[muse-write]

Comfyvember Day 6

Prompt: Trusting

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Characters: Nero, Vergil

Nero struggled to hold on to the crumbling cliff face. Dante would have some witty quip about a literal cliffhanger or something stupid like that, but Nero was too concerned with grasping the rain-softened earth and bits of rock still clinging to the mountain-face that he couldn’t spare a thought to saying any of the ones that flickered through his mind.

He had a feeling, based on Vergil’s expression, that he wouldn’t appreciate them anyway.

As he crouched on the promontory above him, sharp eyes assessing the situation, Vergil’s face was blank, but it was a studied, pale blankness that Nero had never seen before. It was far too blank to be genuine stoicism. Nero scanned Vergil’s eyes and saw the drawn lines carved into their corners. “Nero,” Verhil said finally, “take my hand.”

Nero stared uncomprehendingly as Vergil held his hand out. Vergil’s frown was less severe than usual. A sharp hint of some emotion flickered over his face, too fast for Nero to even begin guessing at what it could have been. “Nero,” Vergil said again, his voice low and strained. “You have to trust me.”

Nero wanted to. He wanted to grab his father’s hand and let him pull him to safety and get out of here. He wanted to be able to trust him.

He stared at the hand. It was steady. Sure.

Just as it had been that night in the garage.

He glanced up. Vergil wasn’t looking at his arm; he was looking right at Nero, right into his eyes. Vergil’s eyes, Nero realized belatedly—absurdly—looked like his. He’d always wondered if be had his mother’s eyes or his father’s.

“Nero, I won’t watch you die,” Vergil said, as plainly as though he was commenting on the weather. “So trust me and take my hand or I’m going to do something very stupid.”

Nero glanced behind him. He was still exhausted from their fight earlier, and he didn’t have power left to trigger his devil form. If he fell—and he could feel his arms shaking—it would be a long, painful drop down the promontory into the ocean below. He may not die, but he would be injured, perhaps badly.

If he took Vergil’s hand, it would be crossing a line they had kept drawn in the sand between them. And part of him, a small but not a negligible part of him, wanted to know what Vergil would do. If he was on the edge of falling off the cliff, just how stupid was Vergil willing to be to save him?

He was a millisecond too long in hesitating. Vergil sighed and his hand moved in the direction of the Yamato…just Nero flung out his hand to grasp hold of his. He felt his fingers brush the back of Vergil’s hand for a moment, and Vergil’s eyes widened, but then Nero was falling, and that was all he could sense.

He was falling. The wind whipped around him, stinging his cheeks and bringing tears to his eyes, and the distant blue sparkle of the ocean twinkled up at him from below. And then before he could brace himself for the painful landing, there was an arm wrapped tightly around his waist, and a flash of steel in the sun followed by a bright blue glow, and he wasn’t falling anymore, he was tumbling through a world of red and black, a solid, steady warmth at his back. Nero’s head pounded, and his ribs were aching from Vergil’s tight grip—because it had to be Vergil, he knew that flash of blue, he knew the smell of rich wine and musty first-edition book surrounding him.

And then he wasn’t falling or tumbling, he was standing in a world of green and blue—standing, that is, until Vergil released him and his knees gave out, weak from the disorienting spin through dimensions.

Vergil gripped Nero’s hand to keep him upright—his right hand. For one blind, terrifying moment, Nero wholeheartedly believed that he was about to lose it again, that he would feel an agonizing wrench that blinded him to any other sensation and then it would be gone, and Vergil too. He was back in the garage again, the smell of gasoline and welding oil and the faint spicy aroma of Kyrie’s cooking—

“Nero. Nero!” his father growled. Something clenched his chin like a vice. “Breathe, Nero.”

Nero was brought back to himself by the tiny shake in Vergil’s voice and he stared up at his father a little wildly. It was Vergil’s hand that gripped his chin, and now he moved it up to touch Nero’s hair briefly. “Breathe. You’re alright. You’re alive.”

Nero ducked his head out of Vergil’s reach. “It wasn’t like I was going to die or anything.”

Vergil scoffed. “Oh, and falling off of a cliff wouldn’t have been terribly inconvenient for both of us?” His voice held that dry sarcasm that irritated Nero every time, and its effect was no less now for all his gratitude. Vergil had let go of his hand at some point, and Nero let himself sink to the ground. What would Vergil think, he wondered faintly, if he vomited onto his boots? They’d probably seen worse.

“Did you have to trick through space?” Nero asked. “It feels horrible.”

“It was that or watch you fall to your—well, your very painful injury—into the ocean.” Vergil shrugged. “Which do you prefer?”

Nero touched the grass; it was soft, and the blades were green and they smelled—like grass. Vibrant. Alive. Like him. He wasn’t in the garage. He didn’t have the Yamato’s power in his arm. Vergil did not have the smallest inclination—at the moment—of ripping it out of him. He had saved him. He had done something stupid and reckless and saved him, and even now he was looking at him with that practiced stoicism and odd eyes.

Nero hauled himself to his feet, feeling less nauseous. “Thanks, Vergil.” He couldn’t call him Dad. He probably never would. But ‘never’ didn’t seem quite as permanent a word now as it had fifteen minutes ago, which had to be progress.

[eatyourdamnpears]

I’ve been in such a funk since the concert. I’m not even sure I enjoyed myself that much. maybe I did. I don’t know

[doydoune]

bonus of this comic

[i-am-a-fish]

god damn, I really hope whoever reads this has a good day

like

I don't know you

but I can tell you really do deserve a good day

whatever it takes to make today a good day, if possible, please do it

[cheruib]

sunset in an empty airplane yesterday got me thinking about my life in ways i never did before btw

[tranquil-slaughterhouse]

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[fullychaotichell]

Radioapple Week Day 2: Enemies / Pining

Yet again, I'm quite late but I've had a busy day XD

These drawings were sorta inspired by fanfictions like Of Saints and Sinners, where Lucifer forms an accidental collection of Alastor's things, and Finders Keepers, in which Alastor is a bit of a kleptomaniac (a lot, actually) and collects trinkets from different hotel members, including Lucifer who ends up finding him out. I just love the idea of mementos of your closest people, and in this case specifically the irony of keeping a memento of someone you claim you hate pfff

I think for all of this week's prompts I'll attempt to do both of them, tying them together in some way, one that at least makes sense in my head XD

Day 1

[seafoamsol]

Place your trust in my sovereignty.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Sunday manipulating you into loving him...

His manipulation is so good that you no longer doubt your feelings. It's hard to imagine your life without him, and it shows. You cling onto him like a baby bird and he is soaking in all of the attention like a man who hasn't had a sip of water in a millennium....

He needs you. He needs you like never before, he is love for you is ethereal and true. His devotion mirrors that of an acolyte worshiping their beloved god.

Please, love him in the same way he loves you, for nothing else shall satisfy him and his bleeding heart.

[asouwan]

Wait a minute…

[moonwoodhollow]

build diaries: went lot hopping tonight, because I couldn't focus on one lot only. I finished the 2nd living room of Rosenhedge St. 48 and worked a bit on a few Ciudad Enamorada builds and then did a few final touches for my cc-Simblreen build (I can't leave it alone, I just want to make it even better).

[blitzy-blitzwing]

Lucifer’s demon form tho. 👀

[edorazzi]

It's Tintin Day again!!! 💖

It's also spooky month so time for some costumes - Sherlock Holmes and a very cute Hound of the Baskervilles! 🔎👻

[warrior-of-sunlight]

Game of the year, best community support, best rpg, best multiplayer, players choice and best performance for Neil Newbon for his role as Astarion.

[tea-cat-arts]

Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will