Figured I'd try my hand at a pinned post to help people navigate. So I write and draw (currently for dp x dc, but my list of fandoms is long) and reblog random things - usually because I think they're funny or neat. So one big amalgamation.
I do tag pretty consistently so that's something at least :)
Head on over to Moku's Invenstory for the easiest way to find my fics without scrolling endlessly.
Common tags I use if you wanna block:
#random funstuff - pretty self explanatory.
#odes to fandom - generally fandom meta in some way or form.
#odes to tumblr - tumblr specific meta and fun posts.
#chatter - personal posts or when I respond to people in reblogs.
Aside from this I generally tag the fandom I'm reblogging sometimes the characters involved.
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A few months ago, I said on this blog that in my head PJO is an anime with a badass opening credits. I meant it quite literally, like I can actually picture this OP in my head, with all the shonen tropes like Percy walking around pretty backgrounds, cool fighting scenes with lots of camera movements and huge statues of the Gods standing ominously in the background, Nico standing in the rain till Reyna and Hazel and Jason come for him and a ray of sunshine breaks throught the clouds and light hits his hopeful face, GIMME ALL THE TROPES hahaha. Doing the whole opening would be impossible for a single person but I really wanted to try one big “shonen” group shot, so here you are !!! This actually took me AGES, I’m not kidding, the folder for this on my computer is named “batshit crazy ” for a reason, it may not look like it if you don’t know animation but a really huge amount of work went into this. I think it’s actually the biggest thing I ever did for a fandom. I can’t say how many hours I spent on it since I didn’t count, but let’s say I started this in September and spent a lot of week ends and most of my Christmas holidays on it, and I just finished it this week. I had a lot of fun though !!! And I learned a lot too, this was my first time trying to animate japanimation style, with not many in-betweens and ultra dynamic poses. So yeah, I hope you guys will like it !
I want to thank fimyuan and bisexualjason for keeping me motivated with their lovely comments through the project, even when I was complaining about my own decisions to animate friggin’ skeletons, hahaha. Another big thank you to my friend Wekake who went through the animation frame by frame and spotted all the little compositing mistakes that remained ;p
A few words on the process : I animated and colored everything in TV Paint, drew the background in Photoshop, and composited everything in After Effects. The song is an extract of the Yowapeda opening “Reclimb” by Rookiez is Punk’d because I wanted something very distinctively shonen but no lyrics, and I like that song ^^ I animated directly without any model sheet references which is definitely not how you should do it, hahaha, hence the design inconsistencies, but honestly even my madness had its limit and I didn’t want to spend more than a year on this thing ;p
This is all GREAT. I turned 40 last week, so permit me to add what I learned in my 30s:
keep on not working for startups
sometimes there comes a point where the thing (fandom, hobby, friendship, romantic relationship) you loved no longer brings you joy. And that's okay. Try to mourn the loss, take joy in the memories, and don't burn any bridges in case ten years go by and you find yourself back in that fandom/hobby/relationship again
it turns out that (ugh) moderate regular exercise is (spit) good for you. The sooner you make it part of your life, the easier it'll be
related: if you throw yourself into a new exercise regime too hard and too fast, without stopping to rest or consider whether a particular move is good for you ... well, shoulder injuries are painful and consults with orthopedic surgeons are expensive
knees are bastards too
don't even get me started on ankles
there may come a time when your digestive system is too fragile for ibuprofin. I'm sorry
one day you're gonna wake up and realise you no longer give any fucks about some things that used to bother you
on the other hand, you might be alarmed to realise what you still give a fuck about
never get down on the floor without an exit strategy for getting back up
I turn 50 this year. what I have learned in my 40s:
"loving yourself" is less of a feeling and more of an action. you can start doing it any time and it will make your life better and better as you go on
this will happen incrementally - be patient
along those lines, if you haven't started making an active effort to quit shit-talking yourself, suck it up and do it
no, shut up. do it. "but it's haaaaard!" don't care. do it.
whether you like it or not, you are mortal and you need to go to the doctor for an annual checkup
stretch regularly - your future self will thank you
at some point you will encounter people much younger than you arguing passionately and incorrectly about history you personally remember and experienced
this will be infuriating and annoying
otoh, most other things just... will not matter to you as much
at some point you will shift from wanting to go out to being like "eh" and deciding to stay in. this is okay.
you will have absolutely no idea what The Youth are talking about and you will not care
but if you keep your mind open to new ideas you'll never be irrelevant
your company still doesn't love you - don't give them more than they pay you for
get a fucking hobby, especially a hobby that involves physically creating/handling something and/or moving your body in physical space. it will do you more good than you can imagine
I'm talking that massive, never-ending Discord chat with your bestie? The one that makes you giggle through the day? It's not a "waste of time," it's what time was made for
If that's fanfic for your favorite characters who never even met on screen celebrate that!
If that's building a tiny fleet of snake villagers for your snake town and they just cover your mantel hell yes!
If that's collecting pillows and making a fort of them every weekend I'll be right over
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Secunit, talking to Three: ok, now if you want to pass as an augmented human you're gonna need to get surgery. Personally ART removed some length from my limbs, but it had some more extreme options available as well-
Iris: Wait rewind. ART did surgery on you?
Secunit: yes
ART: Yes
Three: it was obvious someone did surgery on it, look how off model it is
(to humans, Three and Secunit look identical in body shape)
Ratthi: I kind of assumed you'd just grown out your hair
Seth: ART doesn't have the permits to do that kind of surgery
ART: it was consensual
Secunit: don't say it like that
Iris: what were the more extreme options????
Secunit: I'm not having this conversation. ART, you handle this. Don't be a freak.
One year ago today I posted this miniature Star Wars Andor inspired photo I created. Shot practically using real figures, lighting & a couple of broom heads to create a crop field and a few perspective cheats.
Fandom: Devil May Cry
No ships, focused mainly on Nero and Vergil, though Dante will eventually show up.
Summary:
Weakened from his defeat as Nelo Angelo, Vergil has been in the grasp of Agnus and used to create the Angelos. Through a twist of fate he manages to get a broken Yamato early, but he's not entirely there mentally. Teen Nero has a no good bad horrible day and gets kidnapped for his trouble.
First | Masterpost
Another update, you ask? Yes I might have vacation currently, and I have no self restraint, I've not even given it a proper read through - enjoy!
-
The boy was hungry, Vergil knew that. The knowledge sat like burning inadequacy in his chest.
He was too human to go without, he had not yet been brought to the brink of death and knew not how to grip existence with claws that refused to let go - Vergil did not wish that experience on the boy.
They needed to find sustenance. They had been lucky coming across a few small animals the first few days in the forest, but luck was all it was. If Vergil had once known how to hunt like humans it was lost to him. Finding other humans would lead to food, but Vergil had not sensed humans in days.
There was no choice but to go on. One step after the other, like always. Yamato hummed soothingly in his hand, but even she could not assuage that gnawing in his chest.
The boy strayed in his search for food. It itched terribly to let him out of sight, but they did cover more ground like this to potentially stumble over something edible and the boy did mostly go the right way, so Vergil allowed it, though he always tracked him down when night was falling. Sleeping left him terribly vulnerable.
The faster they made it to their destination the better. Then the boy could be safe.
He stopped, not quite sure why. Slowly his head turned to the left. Something, was going on… something, was wrong. He could not tell exactly what, but something.
He breathed in deep through his nose but the wind came from the wrong direction and revealed nothing.
Finally, the thing his too slow mind had worked at clicked into place; the boy was in that direction.
He started walking.
He remembered something was wrong.
He walked faster.
It wasn’t long, before even the unfavorable wind couldn’t hide the stench of a demon, but it was clear it wasn’t something common. This was bad.
He froze, at first not even knowing why, until he discovered his hand reaching out, the tips of his fingers brushing over the leaves on a mostly intact bush revealing dull splotches of red. Dried blood.
The child was bleeding.
Had bled.
No. He turned his head to the finally favorable wind, the boy was bleeding, right now. A scream in the distance, set Vergil off running.
The path was clear, trampled by something large. He could not afford to run, he did not have the energy to expend, but the boy did not have the time-
Help.
The plea felt like a jolt in his chest. Yamato screamed like a ringing in his ears.
No! He must not be too late.
He must not-
Everything zeroed in on the boy in the demon’s hand, on the arm exerting the pressure. Energy coalesced at his call. He drew Yamato and forced himself to become the blade. He cut.
The demon screamed. He landed on his feet, his lungs burned for air, and he took a moment to gather his strength and just breathe, before he straightened and returned Yamato to her sheath, the movement more instinct than will. She sang with blood thirst and vindictiveness, Vergil was merely glad he prevented the boy from being eaten.
He turned around, eyes immediately searching for the boy. He was clearly at his limit, but he was still struggling. His upper body was bared revealing the vulnerable human flesh and he was pushing himself up with his left hand only - stubborn, stubborn child, but it was such a relief to see him moving, Vergil hadn’t been too late - the boy’s right arm was limp, and bloodied. That is where the scent of the boy’s blood came from. It filled the air heavy and sweet, but with a sour note that spoke of something corrosive. Vergil could not see the extent of the damage from here.
The itch was near unbearable and it was all Vergil could do to resist going to the boy. They were not safe, not as long as the demon lived.
The demon, which had recovered, now faced him. Vergil could not afford distraction.
Oo o oO
Nero tried his best not to think of his arm or the pain, but the metallic scent was choking and the pain like a siren in his ears calling for attention. He did not want to look at the gory sight again, or even to contemplate if he’d every get use of his arm again.
First, first he had to survive.
His kidnapper had arrived, but Nero was a sitting duck right here. He had to move.
Gritting his teeth, he fought back against the dark encroaching on his vision - how much blood had he lost now? - and pushed himself upwards. Sitting first, then he could figure out standing, somehow.
Above him the wound on the demon’s wrist closed as if it had never been, and it turned towards Nero’s kidnapper.
“Nelo Angelo,” it boomed, beginning a wide circle around it’s new target. Was that the name of Nero’s kidnapper? It sounded like a greeting.
“Mundus’ puppet knight,” the demon continued spitting the words with scornful glee.
Mundus? As in the Demon King? From the scriptures? Maybe Nero should have paid more attention.
Nero’s kidnapper, didn’t react whatsoever to the words, merely followed the circling demon with that all too familiar passive gaze, turning his body only as needed to keep the demon in sight.
“What has become of you? You’ve escaped your chains, but at what cost?”
The demon drew the long sword strapped to its back and and swung it downward in a slash that could have cleaved a tree. Nero’s kidnapper flashed away at the last second following the path of one of his glowing blue swords aimed for the demons face. He arrived and slashed for the eyes but the demon jumped back laughing.
“A shade, even less than the human-tainted whelp who claimed the power of Sparda.”
Nero was quickly getting tired of the demon’s yapping, it just kept going.
“I was there you know,” the demon said casually as it thrusted, missed barely and got a slash on the upper arm in return. It was like the demon was warmed up now, while that first strike had been a surprise, now it just took the little wounds in return barely reacting just continuing his poisonous spiel. “I heard the screams when he broke and remade you.”
It was nauseating.
“Calling for your mother, your brother- I had hoped for that one by the way, but I will gladly relive you of what little power remains in your crumbling husk.”
Nero’s hope, his relief at his kidnapper arriving, was collapsing with every ignored wound. It was true that the demon had yet to even hit him. Nero’s kidnapper took conservation of motion to the extreme, but it was also clear that the demon had the stamina to outlast him hundredfold. He was flagging. His landings no longer so clean, staggering forward before righting.
The demon knew, Nero could tell from the evil glee in the six stupid eyes. Nero struggled to a knee. Then stood, feeling woozy, he stumbled over to the nearest still standing tree using it as support. Logically, he should run. His kidnapper would not last as a distraction very long.
Nero did not owe his kidnapper anything. He was the reason Nero was in this mess in the first place. But he had also protected him, he was protecting Nero right now! He had touched Nero’s hair, so gently and so confused and he’d let Nero borrow his precious, creepy ass sword to skin animals, which broken or not was below a blade of that caliber and Nero could not run.
He could not leave.
He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Punching the tree with his only useable fist in pointless temper.
They were both going to die here.
“Nothing to say for yourself? Are you even capable?”
That did it. Nero’s eyes snapped open.
“Knock it off!” Nero yelled stepping forward unsteadily. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t take the demon mocking the guy anymore. Especially because it was the truth. Something vital was broken in his kidnapper, Nero had known that since the burned house, but that did not make him worthless. And having confirmation that the guy had been tortured, whether he was demon now or not, it made Nero sick to his stomach.
The demon turned its great big boar head to Nero, laughing. “And now the pup is barking at me.”
“So what if I am piggy.”
“Do not call me that.” The frowns started in a wave from the top to the bottom set of eyes. It straightened, squaring its broad armored shoulders. “I am Berus, demon lord of the Hunt, you should show some respect.”
“Oh the itty, bitty, piggy, wikes namecalling, but can’t take a wittle itself.”
“Why you-“ Nero’s kidnapper struck, planting his sword right in the center of the demon’s chest. The monster roared grabbed him and threw him to the ground.
Nero’s gaze snapped from the boar to his kidnapper slowly getting up.
“I have had it with you little bugs!” The boar yelled, turning to face Nero’s kidnapper preparing to thrust, but at the very last moment he changed his target to Nero, the blade tip rushing towards him. He couldn’t react in time.
Something slammed into him from the side, knocking him to the ground. There was the sound of a wet crunch and a thunk. He screamed as he hit the ground with his right shoulder. Pain whiting out his vision, he struggled to breathe, and get back his bearings.
Meanwhile, the demon laughed, cackled really so it rang in Nero’s ears.
“So, predictable,” it said as its laughter finally died down.
Nero coughed, pushing up, needing to see- no, it couldn’t be. His kidnapper was pinned to the tree with the tip of the giant sword, split and pinned from his chest and vertically down, like a macabre butterfly.
He turned his head towards Nero, hazy blue eyes blinking as if trying to focus on Nero. His mouth opened in a weak cough and blood spilled over and dribbled off his chin, a fountain of red. His brows met in a pained frown. For a moment it felt like he was actually really meeting Nero’s eyes, then his gaze shifted to beyond Nero towards the horizon - as if telling Nero: run.
Nero shook his head, he couldn’t.
His brows drew downwards. His jaw clenched around bloodied teeth. He turned his head towards the Demon, his grip firmed around the hilt of his sword.
For one long moment it seemed he really intended to keep fighting, all but cleaved in half - but then he slumped forward, his grip slackened and the broken sword fell from his grip, glittering like tears in the waning light.
It landed, digging itself into the ground, with a soft schick.
No.
Nero could not believe it. He could not- He couldn’t be- Nero pushed to his feet, eyes locked on the motionless form.
No.
There was a ringing in his ears. It did not feel real. It couldn’t be real.
“Noooo!” He screamed, his voice broke along with something inside him, but it wasn’t like a simple snapped, it was like a dam breaking, holding back what, he didn’t know, but it rushed through him like a rush of warmth.
The broken sword jumped from the ground into his right hand. It screamed for vengeance and blood. It would give him power. Unlike the other few times Nero had held the sword, he was not unnerved by it. This time they were in complete agreement.
Nero gave himself to the will of the sword, to the rush of power. Two more shards flew out of the scabbard, spinning in the air, landing one after the other with a pure chime. The blade sang as he moved it through the air, clear whole blade reflecting the light across its wave pattern and encased in blazing blue energy.
Realizing he’d just moved his right arm he turned his head to look at his newly intact skin. There was no sign of the grizzly wound. Not even any blood. It was just gone as if it’d never been.
His grip tightened on the blade. It sang back at him. She. The Yamato.
Nero turned his face towards the comically surprised “demon lord” Berus.
“Round two, Piggy.”
Nero jumped. He had never felt such a rush of power. Or had he? There was that time, with the police, he still couldn’t explain how he’d moved that, but maybe it was this. Every step every slash, he was bursting at the seams. More, more, more!
He hacked, slashed, blood splattered. The snake struck at him and he chopped its head off. Die die die. His very being sang in bloodthirsty tandem with Yamato. He slashed one - two - six eyes in a tornado of slashes lead by memories that weren’t his. The demon screamed pitifully, but that wouldn’t save it.
Nero had no pity left. Nothing could stop him.
A hand grabbed his right wrist stopping Yamato in place. He swung his other fist but that was also caught. He snarled, roared and struggled, but the hold wouldn’t give. Then he saw blue eyes and he stilled, not comprehending.
“I will take it from here, you will burn yourself out at this rate.”
Nero blinked. The blue eyes still met his, present and there. A slight frown was pinched on his brow. The voice, the voice had been low and calm, slightly nasal. He’d spoken…He was alive- and he’d spoken!
An eyebrow raised as if asking if he was done struggling, then he let go of Nero’s left wrist and grasped the hilt of the Yamato pulling it out of his hand.
The moment Nero separated from Yamato, it was like his fire was doused. His eyes rolled up and darkness took him.
Oo o oO
Vergil caught and gently lowered the boy to the ground. It was to be expected, he had burned up a lot of energy. He considered the boy, crouched beside him. Then gave into the impulse to brush the long hair away from his face.
There were no denying their kinship. He looked so much like Dante when he’d last seen him, just a little rounder in the cheeks owing to his younger age. He had the hair in the face and brash attitude to boot. Vergil’s chest ached inexplicably.
There had never been any doubt in Vergil’s mind, even limited as he’d been, he’d recognized the boy’s blood, but that little light show there was proof of the boy’s potential.
Misplaced pride bloomed in his chest. The boy was not his to feel proud of.
He stood back up, and turned to the wailing and blinded Berus. It was not so easy healing from wounds like that, powered as they’d been by awakened demonic power.
“Do you know, Berus, why demons gain power from human blood?” Vergil mused as he strolled closer, eyes more on Yamato, whole and beautiful than the downed demon.
“You…” Berus stopped his wailing to growl. “You’re dead.”
“It’s the emotion. You know it, don’t you? The blood of the terrified tastes so much sweeter…” he paused not really waiting for Berus to respond, so much as for dramatic effect.
“Now us hybrids-“ he continued, flipping Yamato over in his hand- “to some degree we can make our own power. I’ve always considered it somewhat inferior, it cannot replace real permanent growth, more of a fallback, a desperate measure-“ Vergil chuckled shaking his head, lips pulling slightly upwards- “and yet that desperate measure took you down, great Berus, Demon Lord of the Hunt.”
“Nelo Angelo,” Berus hissed.
Vergil struck, planting Yamato right in the middle of the skull, he twisted the hilt. “That’s not my name,” he sneered.
He jumped back, flicked off the blood, and sheathed Yamato - at just the right moment he released the demonic energy, setting off a cascade of slashes in the demon’s brain.
And so was the end of Berus.
-
Tadaaa! I've been wanting to get to this point so long. Brain scrambled Vergil, I will miss you, *sniffles* you were a riot to write, but this is for the best.
Now what did you think? Does poor Nero actually stand a chance of getting some answers now? XD
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Fandom: Devil May Cry
No ships, focused mainly on Nero and Vergil, though Dante will eventually show up.
Summary:
Weakened from his defeat as Nelo Angelo, Vergil has been in the grasp of Agnus and used to create the Angelos. Through a twist of fate he manages to get a broken Yamato early, but he's not entirely there mentally. Teen Nero has a no good bad horrible day and gets kidnapped for his trouble.
First | Masterpost
Another update, you ask? Yes I might have vacation currently, and I have no self restraint, I've not even given it a proper read through - enjoy!
-
The boy was hungry, Vergil knew that. The knowledge sat like burning inadequacy in his chest.
He was too human to go without, he had not yet been brought to the brink of death and knew not how to grip existence with claws that refused to let go - Vergil did not wish that experience on the boy.
They needed to find sustenance. They had been lucky coming across a few small animals the first few days in the forest, but luck was all it was. If Vergil had once known how to hunt like humans it was lost to him. Finding other humans would lead to food, but Vergil had not sensed humans in days.
There was no choice but to go on. One step after the other, like always. Yamato hummed soothingly in his hand, but even she could not assuage that gnawing in his chest.
The boy strayed in his search for food. It itched terribly to let him out of sight, but they did cover more ground like this to potentially stumble over something edible and the boy did mostly go the right way, so Vergil allowed it, though he always tracked him down when night was falling. Sleeping left him terribly vulnerable.
The faster they made it to their destination the better. Then the boy could be safe.
He stopped, not quite sure why. Slowly his head turned to the left. Something, was going on… something, was wrong. He could not tell exactly what, but something.
He breathed in deep through his nose but the wind came from the wrong direction and revealed nothing.
Finally, the thing his too slow mind had worked at clicked into place; the boy was in that direction.
He started walking.
He remembered something was wrong.
He walked faster.
It wasn’t long, before even the unfavorable wind couldn’t hide the stench of a demon, but it was clear it wasn’t something common. This was bad.
He froze, at first not even knowing why, until he discovered his hand reaching out, the tips of his fingers brushing over the leaves on a mostly intact bush revealing dull splotches of red. Dried blood.
The child was bleeding.
Had bled.
No. He turned his head to the finally favorable wind, the boy was bleeding, right now. A scream in the distance, set Vergil off running.
The path was clear, trampled by something large. He could not afford to run, he did not have the energy to expend, but the boy did not have the time-
Help.
The plea felt like a jolt in his chest. Yamato screamed like a ringing in his ears.
No! He must not be too late.
He must not-
Everything zeroed in on the boy in the demon’s hand, on the arm exerting the pressure. Energy coalesced at his call. He drew Yamato and forced himself to become the blade. He cut.
The demon screamed. He landed on his feet, his lungs burned for air, and he took a moment to gather his strength and just breathe, before he straightened and returned Yamato to her sheath, the movement more instinct than will. She sang with blood thirst and vindictiveness, Vergil was merely glad he prevented the boy from being eaten.
He turned around, eyes immediately searching for the boy. He was clearly at his limit, but he was still struggling. His upper body was bared revealing the vulnerable human flesh and he was pushing himself up with his left hand only - stubborn, stubborn child, but it was such a relief to see him moving, Vergil hadn’t been too late - the boy’s right arm was limp, and bloodied. That is where the scent of the boy’s blood came from. It filled the air heavy and sweet, but with a sour note that spoke of something corrosive. Vergil could not see the extent of the damage from here.
The itch was near unbearable and it was all Vergil could do to resist going to the boy. They were not safe, not as long as the demon lived.
The demon, which had recovered, now faced him. Vergil could not afford distraction.
Oo o oO
Nero tried his best not to think of his arm or the pain, but the metallic scent was choking and the pain like a siren in his ears calling for attention. He did not want to look at the gory sight again, or even to contemplate if he’d every get use of his arm again.
First, first he had to survive.
His kidnapper had arrived, but Nero was a sitting duck right here. He had to move.
Gritting his teeth, he fought back against the dark encroaching on his vision - how much blood had he lost now? - and pushed himself upwards. Sitting first, then he could figure out standing, somehow.
Above him the wound on the demon’s wrist closed as if it had never been, and it turned towards Nero’s kidnapper.
“Nelo Angelo,” it boomed, beginning a wide circle around it’s new target. Was that the name of Nero’s kidnapper? It sounded like a greeting.
“Mundus’ puppet knight,” the demon continued spitting the words with scornful glee.
Mundus? As in the Demon King? From the scriptures? Maybe Nero should have paid more attention.
Nero’s kidnapper, didn’t react whatsoever to the words, merely followed the circling demon with that all too familiar passive gaze, turning his body only as needed to keep the demon in sight.
“What has become of you? You’ve escaped your chains, but at what cost?”
The demon drew the long sword strapped to its back and and swung it downward in a slash that could have cleaved a tree. Nero’s kidnapper flashed away at the last second following the path of one of his glowing blue swords aimed for the demons face. He arrived and slashed for the eyes but the demon jumped back laughing.
“A shade, even less than the human-tainted whelp who claimed the power of Sparda.”
Nero was quickly getting tired of the demon’s yapping, it just kept going.
“I was there you know,” the demon said casually as it thrusted, missed barely and got a slash on the upper arm in return. It was like the demon was warmed up now, while that first strike had been a surprise, now it just took the little wounds in return barely reacting just continuing his poisonous spiel. “I heard the screams when he broke and remade you.”
It was nauseating.
“Calling for your mother, your brother- I had hoped for that one by the way, but I will gladly relive you of what little power remains in your crumbling husk.”
Nero’s hope, his relief at his kidnapper arriving, was collapsing with every ignored wound. It was true that the demon had yet to even hit him. Nero’s kidnapper took conservation of motion to the extreme, but it was also clear that the demon had the stamina to outlast him hundredfold. He was flagging. His landings no longer so clean, staggering forward before righting.
The demon knew, Nero could tell from the evil glee in the six stupid eyes. Nero struggled to a knee. Then stood, feeling woozy, he stumbled over to the nearest still standing tree using it as support. Logically, he should run. His kidnapper would not last as a distraction very long.
Nero did not owe his kidnapper anything. He was the reason Nero was in this mess in the first place. But he had also protected him, he was protecting Nero right now! He had touched Nero’s hair, so gently and so confused and he’d let Nero borrow his precious, creepy ass sword to skin animals, which broken or not was below a blade of that caliber and Nero could not run.
He could not leave.
He closed his eyes and grit his teeth. Punching the tree with his only useable fist in pointless temper.
They were both going to die here.
“Nothing to say for yourself? Are you even capable?”
That did it. Nero’s eyes snapped open.
“Knock it off!” Nero yelled stepping forward unsteadily. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t take the demon mocking the guy anymore. Especially because it was the truth. Something vital was broken in his kidnapper, Nero had known that since the burned house, but that did not make him worthless. And having confirmation that the guy had been tortured, whether he was demon now or not, it made Nero sick to his stomach.
The demon turned its great big boar head to Nero, laughing. “And now the pup is barking at me.”
“So what if I am piggy.”
“Do not call me that.” The frowns started in a wave from the top to the bottom set of eyes. It straightened, squaring its broad armored shoulders. “I am Berus, demon lord of the Hunt, you should show some respect.”
“Oh the itty, bitty, piggy, wikes namecalling, but can’t take a wittle itself.”
“Why you-“ Nero’s kidnapper struck, planting his sword right in the center of the demon’s chest. The monster roared grabbed him and threw him to the ground.
Nero’s gaze snapped from the boar to his kidnapper slowly getting up.
“I have had it with you little bugs!” The boar yelled, turning to face Nero’s kidnapper preparing to thrust, but at the very last moment he changed his target to Nero, the blade tip rushing towards him. He couldn’t react in time.
Something slammed into him from the side, knocking him to the ground. There was the sound of a wet crunch and a thunk. He screamed as he hit the ground with his right shoulder. Pain whiting out his vision, he struggled to breathe, and get back his bearings.
Meanwhile, the demon laughed, cackled really so it rang in Nero’s ears.
“So, predictable,” it said as its laughter finally died down.
Nero coughed, pushing up, needing to see- no, it couldn’t be. His kidnapper was pinned to the tree with the tip of the giant sword, split and pinned from his chest and vertically down, like a macabre butterfly.
He turned his head towards Nero, hazy blue eyes blinking as if trying to focus on Nero. His mouth opened in a weak cough and blood spilled over and dribbled off his chin, a fountain of red. His brows met in a pained frown. For a moment it felt like he was actually really meeting Nero’s eyes, then his gaze shifted to beyond Nero towards the horizon - as if telling Nero: run.
Nero shook his head, he couldn’t.
His brows drew downwards. His jaw clenched around bloodied teeth. He turned his head towards the Demon, his grip firmed around the hilt of his sword.
For one long moment it seemed he really intended to keep fighting, all but cleaved in half - but then he slumped forward, his grip slackened and the broken sword fell from his grip, glittering like tears in the waning light.
It landed, digging itself into the ground, with a soft schick.
No.
Nero could not believe it. He could not- He couldn’t be- Nero pushed to his feet, eyes locked on the motionless form.
No.
There was a ringing in his ears. It did not feel real. It couldn’t be real.
“Noooo!” He screamed, his voice broke along with something inside him, but it wasn’t like a simple snapped, it was like a dam breaking, holding back what, he didn’t know, but it rushed through him like a rush of warmth.
The broken sword jumped from the ground into his right hand. It screamed for vengeance and blood. It would give him power. Unlike the other few times Nero had held the sword, he was not unnerved by it. This time they were in complete agreement.
Nero gave himself to the will of the sword, to the rush of power. Two more shards flew out of the scabbard, spinning in the air, landing one after the other with a pure chime. The blade sang as he moved it through the air, clear whole blade reflecting the light across its wave pattern and encased in blazing blue energy.
Realizing he’d just moved his right arm he turned his head to look at his newly intact skin. There was no sign of the grizzly wound. Not even any blood. It was just gone as if it’d never been.
His grip tightened on the blade. It sang back at him. She. The Yamato.
Nero turned his face towards the comically surprised “demon lord” Berus.
“Round two, Piggy.”
Nero jumped. He had never felt such a rush of power. Or had he? There was that time, with the police, he still couldn’t explain how he’d moved that, but maybe it was this. Every step every slash, he was bursting at the seams. More, more, more!
He hacked, slashed, blood splattered. The snake struck at him and he chopped its head off. Die die die. His very being sang in bloodthirsty tandem with Yamato. He slashed one - two - six eyes in a tornado of slashes lead by memories that weren’t his. The demon screamed pitifully, but that wouldn’t save it.
Nero had no pity left. Nothing could stop him.
A hand grabbed his right wrist stopping Yamato in place. He swung his other fist but that was also caught. He snarled, roared and struggled, but the hold wouldn’t give. Then he saw blue eyes and he stilled, not comprehending.
“I will take it from here, you will burn yourself out at this rate.”
Nero blinked. The blue eyes still met his, present and there. A slight frown was pinched on his brow. The voice, the voice had been low and calm, slightly nasal. He’d spoken…He was alive- and he’d spoken!
An eyebrow raised as if asking if he was done struggling, then he let go of Nero’s left wrist and grasped the hilt of the Yamato pulling it out of his hand.
The moment Nero separated from Yamato, it was like his fire was doused. His eyes rolled up and darkness took him.
Oo o oO
Vergil caught and gently lowered the boy to the ground. It was to be expected, he had burned up a lot of energy. He considered the boy, crouched beside him. Then gave into the impulse to brush the long hair away from his face.
There were no denying their kinship. He looked so much like Dante when he’d last seen him, just a little rounder in the cheeks owing to his younger age. He had the hair in the face and brash attitude to boot. Vergil’s chest ached inexplicably.
There had never been any doubt in Vergil’s mind, even limited as he’d been, he’d recognized the boy’s blood, but that little light show there was proof of the boy’s potential.
Misplaced pride bloomed in his chest. The boy was not his to feel proud of.
He stood back up, and turned to the wailing and blinded Berus. It was not so easy healing from wounds like that, powered as they’d been by awakened demonic power.
“Do you know, Berus, why demons gain power from human blood?” Vergil mused as he strolled closer, eyes more on Yamato, whole and beautiful than the downed demon.
“You…” Berus stopped his wailing to growl. “You’re dead.”
“It’s the emotion. You know it, don’t you? The blood of the terrified tastes so much sweeter…” he paused not really waiting for Berus to respond, so much as for dramatic effect.
“Now us hybrids-“ he continued, flipping Yamato over in his hand- “to some degree we can make our own power. I’ve always considered it somewhat inferior, it cannot replace real permanent growth, more of a fallback, a desperate measure-“ Vergil chuckled shaking his head, lips pulling slightly upwards- “and yet that desperate measure took you down, great Berus, Demon Lord of the Hunt.”
“Nelo Angelo,” Berus hissed.
Vergil struck, planting Yamato right in the middle of the skull, he twisted the hilt. “That’s not my name,” he sneered.
He jumped back, flicked off the blood, and sheathed Yamato - at just the right moment he released the demonic energy, setting off a cascade of slashes in the demon’s brain.
And so was the end of Berus.
-
Tadaaa! I've been wanting to get to this point so long. Brain scrambled Vergil, I will miss you, *sniffles* you were a riot to write, but this is for the best.
Now what did you think? Does poor Nero actually stand a chance of getting some answers now? XD
Thought my gf cheated on me again so I messed around with her gay brother, but it turns out it really *was* just her cousin that she was spending time with, so now I’m kinda feeling guilty and confused
Is this how a priest in a confessional booth feels… ten hail marys
Comic study for this move from DMC 5, starting at 1:42 (I love outmaneuver moves lol). Let it be known I watched this 5 seconds like on repeat and sometimes in 0.25 speed. It’s easier to tap on and see the whole thing btw.
I did add a bit of expressions for the characters but the rest is the same thing. Also Nero’s face is very easy to draw but his clothes and the Red Queen are nightmare incarnated. While Vergil’s clothes are easier but his face is a bit hard, I do not want him to look too young lol, let that man age a bit. Had that one time saw on Pinterest someone tried to smooth out his face like brother why??
Overall learnt a lot with paneling and scene framing yay.
Currently thinking about how in DMC5 Nero tells Kyrie how she and Credo were all he had growing up, and then as he’s running to stop the twins how Nero hates himself for not being strong enough to save Credo - and then I think about that scene on the bridge in DMC4 and Nero saying something like that’s not a face you greet an ally with and like it feels like Nero teasing Credo for his stern face, but then Credo is actually betraying him.
Okay for those of you living in pitiful ignorance, take a raw ear of corn with the husk on and cut all the way around the base (as pictured: above the point where the husk meets the cob, so that the entire husk is severed but still wrapped around the corn. Do not cut through the cob.) Then, with the husk still on, microwave it for 5-7 minutes. It'll basically steam it inside the husk. Remove from microwave --it will be hot, so use a mitt or a towel--and firmly pull the top of the husk/silk, which should come off easily in one piece, unsheathing a flawless corn on the cob. If it doesn't, you probably need to cut a little higher around the base, so all the leaves are severed. No picking off silk!
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This scene was actually so sad and I want to ramble about it. Though Nero is talented, he was still a kid here. He didn't have much of a handle on his demonic abilities because he didn't know he had them until a short while ago. And then he gets literally crucified for having demonic abilities-- something he'd been afraid of since the religious cult he was raised in preached death to all demons (lol)-- only to be saved by the Yamato (unknowingly the same way his father was also saved by the sword as a kid). And after he temporarily takes out his captor, Nero falls to his knees and frantically puts his human hand over his heart and chest like he's trying to see if he's still alive, if his heart is still beating after having been nearly killed and severally injured. And given that he knows so little about his abilities, & based on how the scene is described in the novel, it seems like he thought he was *dying*.
But the worst part is when he just sits there rocking himself back and forth laughing, but it sounds like he's going to cry. But he has to push himself to continue on anyway because there is no one to protect him now. Credo sold him out and no one is coming to his rescue so he has to end this himself to save Kyrie.
