#DT's Writing Thing

[don1t1red]

I know that this is a very unpopular opinion but hear me out!

I think not enough people consider Corvo as an unreliable narrator. We see the story from his point of view and all we know about Jessamine Kaldwin comes from his perspective. So, to think on that, do we really know how good Jessamine was as the Empress? 

I know that she is usually portrayed as a good person if not a saint but what if it wasn't that way? A lot of people in the streets are indifferent towards her image, if not hostile; the situation with Delilah; how both Geoff Curnow and Corvo are treated because of their nationality; two hatters recalling how greatly Corvo dealt with workers uprising under her command  – a lot of things are a tell-tale signs that something is not quite right. 

And at this point I have to clarify that I'm not saying things like "boo no I hate Jessamine". No, it's actually quite the opposite, I love her character. But the way it is usually portrayed seems to be so dull and static. Let her not be a saint. 

Let her be manipulative. Let her tell Corvo that "he is not like other serkonans, he is sooo special and that's why he is where he is and not somewhere deep in the silver mine", while being (just as any nobility in Gristol) not very welcome to any outlanders. 

Let her be power-hungry and afraid to lose this power. Remember a bonecharm in her hidden room in the Tower? Who knows how it ended up here! Maybe she knew (or felt) that Delilah was coming, capable of overpowering and taking everything from her. Maybe Jessamine was so afraid to lose her posh life that she was ready to use some kind of a black magic! 

Let her be disloyal. Obviously, she and Corvo developed some kind of codependency. But along with that, she was the Empress so who could stop her from having an affair or two? And Corvo was just the safest option, with a way less unnecessary risks and questions. 

Let her be an imperfect person. 

Obviously, Jessamine could be easily born a perfect ruler and a perfect loving woman for her chosen one and her daughter. But maybe she had to learn it the hard way. 

Maybe she changed along with Corvo. Maybe the plague was a critical point for her character, maybe those months without Corvo made her rethink a lot of things. 

And isn't it tragic, finally understanding and becoming the Empress everyone wants to see in you, just to be killed the other day, because all those changes have been seen as a weakness? Have nothing but faith in your closest one, faith that these people will be more wise than she was? 

Give her some development, give her some motion! She could easily  be a saint, static point.  But in my opinion, she deserves to be not perfect but in constant motion. Trying and learning, understanding and making mistakes. She was too young when she became the Empress, she was a part of gristolian nobility, not so kind to anyone but themselves, she literally had no prerequisites to become a good person. And yet somehow she did. 

It's always so easy to be a "saint" from the very beginning. And it's always so hard to learn how to become one.

[britneyshakespeare]

Had the extremely upsetting experience of a mutual of like 6 years going off on me for occasionally making posts about supporting Harris because apparently that makes me a g n cide denier who refuses to learn and grow, with all of my views just being assumed not even from what I've told them I believe or what I've posted before, but just because I DON'T post particularly the kind of things they THINK I should be. When I pointed out how much they were just completely assuming about stuff I'd never talked to them about, I was told it doesn't matter what I do in real life or "care" about if I simply disagree with their conclusion and vote for her anyway. Like they were absolutely not sorry for the level of maliciousness they not just assumed of my character, but for some reason thought appropriate to bring directly to me before unfollowing me. No apology whatsoever for how discomforting or upsetting that might be and certainly no acknowledgment that I could disagree with them and still be a good person. I just got another even longer rant about how they fundamentally can't fuck with me because of this one thing, no matter WHAT else I do in my real life (which I pointed out that they do not know), and how I'm directly supporting fascism.

Like seriously what is it about Tumblr that makes people think they know someone based off of occasional posts? There were just such DEEP assumptions they were making of me and going off of very little or absolutely nothing. Around the time I first became mutuals with that person I used to express my personality and beliefs and talk about what was going on in my life a lot more openly, but I've significantly scaled back on doing that in many ways for many reasons. One of my major ones is privacy and the way I've had strangers outside my followers and following circles just find random things I say and dogpile me for it. I was fundamentally changed after some T Fs did that to me like 3 years ago. I also just didn't have many conversations w that person anymore (I message people in general on here like 10x less than I did circa 2018-2019, which I'm somewhat sorry about!). My point is to say I think this person felt comfortable assuming that they knew me, especially who I am in 2024 at the age of 25, much better than they actually did.

One of the specific things they accused me of was being afraid of learning and growing (because I don't perform social media activism on here like they think I should). Like AFRAID to take criticism. When again I've never received criticism from them or had to respond to any criticism on here before as pertaining to my views on... well, absolutely any of the issues they accused me of not caring about. They essentially treated it as if the only thing in the world I cared about was the US election and characterized me as the most out-of-touch liberal they could possibly imagine, because I'm not "pushing" Kamala Harris to be better (Oh?? Should I do that on here?? Does she read my blog??).

And most hypocritically what they said was that I only *sometimes* *vaguely* post pro-Harris things (I often post like 5 or fewer things in a day though?). But here's the kicker. "Because I know I'll get shit for it. And rightfully so."

Really????? Not a single person, anon or not, in my messages or in a tagged post or anything, has ever given me shit before for saying who I'm voting for. I'm actually NOT afraid of "getting shit" for that opinion, I just don't start fights with people who are anti-voting. And why should I??? I genuinely don't believe in trying to change the minds of strangers on the internet about that sort of thing. I'm just not confrontational about it; that is so not the same thing as being "afraid of getting shit." I'm not posting ENOUGH about my support for Harris, therefore I'm afraid. But therefore they can also make all these assumptions about me being their strawman for an ignorant Harris supporter.

I'm afraid of getting shit but I still post anyway? But if I weren't afraid of getting shit I'd be posting a lot more?? This is ALL based on their assumptions of what my blog *should* look like, based on what I really and truly believe. My level of posting every now and then is an accurate gauge of my feelings on complex, sensitive, global issues. Because I'm voting for the Democratic presidential candidate and I'm ok sharing pretty much just that little glimpse of myself.

I really don't think that person knows just how inappropriate and insulting that is to just say all of that to me. Like they really know what's going on in my head. Their first message began and ended with like "I'm sorry I love you I just can't take it anymore" but they clearly weren't sorry enough to try and be more respectful to me, and they didn't love me enough not to default to extremely ungenerous assumptions and attacking me based off of those instead of any actual words I've said that they take issue with.

Online radicalization is real and it's not necessarily bad because your political views can start to fall well out of the contemporary Overton window. The way you find it appropriate to treat people whose views, however common, seem to fundamentally misalign with yours... that does matter. You can't just assume the worst of everyone and then act on that in how you approach them as individuals. And then be shocked that you don't stay friends with them. You can't be confrontational with someone about an issue you've never had an honest conversation about, and then expect them to take your bad faith in them as reasonable well-meaning criticism.

I'm afraid of criticism??? I'm afraid of criticism. No I'm not. This person and I have never had an issue before where they criticized me and I got harshly defensive. It was ALL projection. The entire tone of their messages was as if all their anti-voting posts recently were somehow in communication with the occasional go-vote-for-Harris posts that I make. That's not a conversation. I don't post for your satisfaction. I don't post in "response" to my mutuals I disagree with. I just post what's on my mind, sometimes, about some things. I really again can't stress enough how baffled I am by this

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 13 - Butte

A‘viloh hated it when he was forced to join the others on their hunting trips. All he did was slow them down and so far he hadn’t even managed to kill a single orobon. His aim was so horrible that Khuba had once told him he‘d sooner hit something if he stopped aiming for it altogether. Luckily this time U‘khuba wasn’t with them and it was just Laqa, Tykha and him.

Somehow Laqa’s brother, although he was three years younger, was already better at everything than A‘viloh. He at least could be considered a help should a monster prove more dangerous than expected or should any Amalj’aa show up. A’viloh on the other hand would more likely just make things worse with his presence alone.

Quickly he finished braiding his hair in a plait over his left shoulder and adjusted the quiver and bow on his right, while they passed the gate leading out towards the desert. Laqa, always a few steps ahead, had stopped and waited for them. With a big grin on his face he walked between his younger brother and A‘viloh and put an arm around each of their shoulders.

“Today’s going to be great!”, he exclaimed. “I can already imagine their faces when we return and I tell them you two slew a drake!”

“A drake?”, Tykha laughed and A‘viloh added doubtfully, “How would just the three of us carry a drake all the way home?”

Though A‘viloh could imagine Laqa would be able to do anything no matter how unrealistic once he decided to do it - even if that would mean dragging a giant sandworm across half of the Sagolii desert all by himself.

Laqa patted them both on the bag, then turned around, walking backwards, and made a small hand gesture. “Just a veeeery tiny drake, then!”

A’viloh had to laugh but still wasn’t convinced.

“Even then they wouldn’t believe anyone but you killed it.”

The blonde Miqo’te made an equally wounded and innocent face and put a hand onto his chest.

“Have I ever lied?”

While the other two still shook their head, he already whirled around again and picked up the pace. He walked with such a determination as if he knew exactly where he was going. Maybe really he was but to A‘viloh one direction looked as promising as the other - or in his case actually just exhausting. After what had only been maybe half a bell of trudging through the sand, but to him had felt like forever, A‘viloh wanted to just lie down and rest. Sun, sand and monsters be damned.

“How far do you think we will have to go?”, he asked and tried not to sound annoyed.

Laqa stopped for a moment - thank Azeyma - and scanned the area. There was no sign of life visible in any direction and yet he had a plan.

“Mhh… I think there could be some monsters behind that butte over there.”

Far in the distance he gestured to a rock formation. Quite tall, steep walls of stone shooting up almost vertically with a little plateau on top. But most importantly it looked unreachably far away to A’viloh.

Laqa however seemed to have a different sense for distance than him. Way too cheerfully he grinned at them and started running.

“First one there gets to make a wish!”

Shocked A‘viloh watched as he dashed away, Tykha running after him, trying to keep up.

Deeply he sighed and started to jog after them, only hoping he wouldn’t drop dead before making it there.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #6: Halcyon

You can’t tell where it went wrong. How did a simple escort go wrong? How did you screw this up? It was supposed to be easy. You clutch the bow in your hand as you hide behind the carriage.

Your old friend falls in beside you as a bolt of void-lightning spears past them. You free a hand to clasp their shoulder, to ground them for a moment as you both look at each other with the same mix of fear. No words to exchange, of course, the moment is far too short for that. Instead they grip their axe. You nod at them. And you throw yourself out from behind cover. You loose an arrow into the shoulder of one of the summoners. A bolt of fire from one of the voidsent is sent wide by the sturdy metal of the axe. You slip under its wide arc to sink another broadhead into the chest of that same summoner in vain hopes it will curb the tide of monsters that flood the small pass. You hear the sizzle of lightning behind you, the scent of flesh held in flame for too long, and you can only give it a passing glance as the hands around that axe begin to sear into its handle. You can’t look them in the face. You nock the smaller bodkin arrows as you loose them into imp, hound, and what seems like a half-failed summoning of a deepeye. They strike true, they strike well- But you know it’s little more than a moment’s breath of success before you’ll be surrounded. You duck as you hear the axe swing wide around you once more. A bolt of lightning vaporizes one of the voidsent you’d shot. The taste of ozone in your mouth holds back your scream. Your arms, your fingers, the entirety of your body keeps its motion- your last broadhead, bloodied from the body you’d ripped it from, nock and point it as you can barely keep your heart from stopping at the sight of it. You hear the axe hit stone. The gargoyle is massive. Its greying skin and blackened eyes worse than the stories you’ve heard told about them. You’re not even certain the arrow you’re holding will do anything to it. Didn’t that one hunter you met tell you that only magic could hurt them? Or was it that you had to kill their summoner? You’d already shot one, yes, but there could be more and you needed to spot them it was your only chance- There’s an axe in its mouth. Your whole world spirals down into a single point. You scream as your world rocks hard. You’re thrown off your feet, your bow thudding into the dirt too many fulms away. You clutch at your chest. You can’t crawl. You can’t roll. You’re still clutching the arrow in your fist. The metal bites into your flesh. It keeps you awake. You can still only see the axe. And then wings of paradise.

“Get him up!” Comes the call of a commander, a veteran, a voice you’re sure you’ve heard once before. “I’ll round up the voidsent, you take out their casters!” You’re not sure if she’s talking to you. But then another voice is, for certain, as those same wings you thought you’d hallucinated in throes of death spin down to shield your eyes. They scream with elemental rage as you can barely make out the bodies falling to their onslaught. “They are alive-” Your eyes snap open to meet the gaze of a Raen. Her hand on your chest keeps you down. Her magicks bleeding from her like sunlight into your wounds. You clutch the broadhead. Your hand’s wounds reopen. “You will stay under bough. Fly true with which winds will point-” She slaps your bow into your hand in the moment of seeming calm on the battlefield. You manage to look up long enough to see the other; a woman in a white coat and a blade of gleaming silver throwing herself into the midst of all those monsters without a second thought. She’s winning. You grip your bow. You can still see the axe.

The steel of the arrow gleams with your blood and someone else’s. There’s no way it will do anything to the gargoyle. There’s no way it will give as much pain as you have rage. But you’re on your feet. You’re pulling back on the string. Those wings of paradise circle you. They line up with your bow. Magic bursts from them around you, around your arrow, and for a moment you feel as if you can see every second passing. For a moment you feel as if you bear an angel’s blessing. She nods at you. You loose the bolt of light from your bow. It rages, unfocused and bright, like the Destroyer’s own star. And with every onze of your fury it burns away at the dark. A divine wind to carry it. You can’t breathe. The wind from your chest.

You watch as a lone hand picks up the axe. It glints in the afterglow. You don’t look at their face. They nod at you. And you loose another arrow. Another bolt of light.

This will be the first of so many. You will always remember.

[akkivee]

speaking of the lotus sutra lol, i think kuukou trying to cut off the cycle of violence and lead by traditional buddhism, only to kinda embrace it again as it’s means for his buddhism, reflects this lesson taught in the lotus sutra, that he rejected going to nirvana (staying put at his temple and everything and everyone can stay safe) in order to guide humanity freely and wherever he can

[triglycercule]

is he recognizable. he should be. errors design is impossible to make look bad i say as i dont quite know if this design looks all that good,,,,, not like im gonna try an make another one bc i do NAUGHT have time or energy to make another vice.SER design prototype

my new character guy his whole deal is that he is a chill dude who lwk don’t gaf. Although you may not know him very much right now but he’ll find his way into your heart. JK vice.SER's just error but he fell into the void like a dumbass and now hes changed his strat ‼️‼️ of destroying the multiverse by trying to convince the creators. more to him but like i cannot be bothered. i low key changed errors character so bad that i dont know if anything about his old personality and motivations and stuff can fit into vice.SER's lore bit whatever he looks cool has cool motive has cool everything. maybe i wish he could be a bit more freaky cooking but i probably just havent added enough glitch effects.

[aprillikesthings]

writing anything canon-verse for spop means writing someone saying "why on earth", realizing your mistake, trying "why on etheria", hating the way that looks too, and just deleting the phrase entirely with a sigh

[aenslem]

I was thinking about the entire new new who season and the final to understand what Im feeling about it, but the conclusion is I felt nothing, and it's disappointing, not the show, I mean I watched it and it was fine, but the fact that it did not make me feel things it supposed to make me feel, like you're killing kate stewart

and Im thinking about what I should make myself for a dinner, Im supposed to hold onto chair and stop breathing the moment she dies, I love her, and yet... Im making myself mac and cheese

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #24: Sovenance

Prompt: refraction (free write!) || Master Post || On AO3

--

A wiggle here, a wiggle there, and pop!

Roksana tumbled to the ground with a whee! and Amandina followed a heartbeat later, landing lightly on her feet. Roksana got to her feet, giving herself a good shake, and the pair of carbunclets looked around.

…I think we took a wrong turn at the gemology lab, Amandina whispered, ears pinning back against her head.

Roksana cheeped agreement.

Above them, singing in chorus, were the enormous aether batteries that powered all the wards and protections in the Arcanists’ Guild. The laboratories, the libraries, the classrooms, even the special holding cells for dangerous cargo. Sunk into the last of the subbasements, deep beneath the floor of Galadion Bay, only seven people in the whole of the Guild had the access necessary to even reach this level.

Mommy was one of them, and she did not bring them or their siblings with her. Ever.

The twins pressed up against one another, staring with wide eyes. The aether here was thick and cloying, the giant clusters set into the batteries so potent that the wrong gesture could probably cause a spell to cast. Roksana’s nose twitched under the assault, and she sneezed.

Amandina headbutted her, and then slowly crawled forward on her belly, ears twitching and tails lashing. I dunno how to find our way out, she whispered. It’s hard to sense directions in here. My array feels…weird.

Itchy?

Yeah.

Me, too.

Roksana wriggled her way after her sister, craning her neck back to stare at the battery. The aethersong was loud, too, which was making it hard to think. She pawed at her ear, unsettled. The aethersong didn’t sound right, either.

I think one of the water crystals is broken, she chirped.

Amandina wrinkled her nose. Ew.

Yeah.

The two stared up at the battery together for a while longer, and then Amandina shuffled away to poke her nose into the far corners. Probably trying to find a spot where they could wiggle through the wards and into voidspace and back up to Mommy’s office, despite how sleepy and confused the aether was making them; Amandina was very good at finding spots like that. Too bad the spot they had come through was too high up on the wall, close to the ceiling, for them to reach.

Roksana’s attention, however, was still held by the aether battery. Maybe the water cluster wasn’t broken, but it wasn’t right, either. She sneezed again.

She ilmed a little closer, peering up at the battery. Maybe the cluster had a crack? Maybe it hadn’t been set properly?

She sat up on her hindlegs, nose twitching and ears flicking, and carefully reached up her paw. Maybe—

The pad of her paw brushed ever so gently against the metal of the battery casing.

[THE WATER IS POISON THE WATER IS POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED THE WATER IS POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED AND THEY WILL KEEP CHANGING EVER AND ON THE WATER IS POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED AND THEY WILL KEEP CHANGING EVER AND ON AND— THERE IS FIRE. THE WATER IS POISON AND THE WATER IS GONE IT IS FLASH-BOILED IN AN INSTANT LEAVING THE BEDS BARED AND DEAD AND DYING AND THERE IS NO WHERE FOR THE RIVER TO GO BECAUSE THE RIVER IS GONE AND SO IS THE OCEAN THEIR SIBLING IS NO LONGER WATER. THEIR SIBLING IS LEVIN. THE WATER RETURNS AND IT ROARS FROM UPSTREAM AND FROM THE SEA AND IT RUSHES INTO THE EMPTY WITH RAGE AND GRIEF AND HORROR AND IT IS TOO LATE FOR EVERYTHING IS DEAD EXCEPT THEM THE WATER IS POISON BUT IT IS A DIFFERENT POISON THE WATER IS POISON BUT IT IS A DIFFERENT POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED THE WATER IS POISON BUT IT IS A DIFFERENT POISON AND THEY HAVE CHANGED AND THEY WILL KEEP CHANGING EVER AND ON—]

Roksana was wrenched back into awareness, peeping at the top of her lungs and trying to curl into a ball to hide amongst her tails and cover her eyes with her paws, but she couldn’t, because she was currently dangling from Big Sister’s mouth as Big Sister leaped from the ground of the thirteenth basement and through the hole in the wards.

[Careless! Thoughtless! Always having to know even if it means trouble! This is why you are not supposed to wander!] Big Sister was furious, her harmonic no longer the familiar windchime but a howling gale, but for all her rage, she was the eye of the storm, cold and still and relentless.

Big Sister crawled through the spaces of reality, growling low in her throat and slapping aside wards with a paw or smacking away a clinging bit of magic with her tails, forcibly shortening the path between A and B in ways that made spoken gibber uselessly. They crawled for a heartbeat. They crawled for a myriad.

Then Big Sister was stepping into realspace, into Mommy’s office, hopping down from empty air with a commanding warble. Big Brother jerked awake, rolling off the couch, and scrambled over to join them at Roksana and Amandina’s basket.

What happened? he said.

Stupid baby sisters went wandering and touched things they shouldn’t, Big Sister grumbled, her harmonic back to normal. She dropped Roksana next to Big Brother, then turned and hunkered down, wind aether gathering along her haunches. Keep an eye on her, I need to get Amandina.

She leaped, and vanished back into the space between.

Fire and water normally didn’t mix well, but Big Brother had always tolerated her squishing into him because he was warm and it felt gooood, even if grumbled. He didn’t grumble today, though, as Big Brother loafed immediately in her basket and Roksana pressed her face into his side, peeping pathetically and shaking all over. Big Brother wasn’t good at comforting, not like Biggest Brother was, but he started purring immediately.

Roksana couldn’t remember why she was so scared, but she was, and Big Brother was helping, and that was what was most important.

Big Sister re-appeared in a flash of displaced aether, Mommy’s wards rippling, with Amandina hanging docile and contrite by her scruff from Big Sister’s mouth. Big Sister stalked over, deposited Amandina next to Roksana (Amandina immediately cuddled up to her, purring her tiny, squeaky purr), and then promptly loafed on top of them both, starting up a ferocious purr like storm shutters rattling in the wind.

Roksana was starting to feel much better. Big Sister and Big Brother would always keep her safe, and their aether was almost as comforting as Mommy’s or Papa’s.

Mama is going to be upset, Big Sister said primly.

Roksana felt bad again. Please don’t tell! I’m sorry!

Baby sister, if you don’t think Mama isn’t running full speed up the tower right now, you are sorely mistaken, Big Brother drawled.

The aetheric resonance was so strong we felt it through our foci, Big Sister said. Mama wears all our foci on her wrist, she knows something happened to you, and you [will not lie, am I understood?]

Roksana whined wordlessly, but slumped beneath her siblings. Okay… Thank you for saving me, Big Sister.

No thanks necessary, you little troublemaker. Big Sister’s harmonic was at least affectionate beneath the annoyance.

…How did you find us? Amandina chittered.

I followed my nose.

That made sense. Big Sister had the bestest nose in the whole of Mealvaan’s Gate. She could sniff out anything, anywhere.

How did you voidwalk?

I’m Eldest, Big Sister said, as if that explained everything. Which it did.

That was when Mommy burst into the office, chest heaving and breath a wheeze as she stumbled over, Bigger Brother right at her heels. “What happened?” she croaked, gently pushing Big Sister aside to scoop up Roksana and Amandina.

Mommy was scared, which meant she was mad, but even when mad, Mommy cuddles were the best. Roksana promptly burrowed into Mommy’s neck to hide as Amandina crawled up to perch on the opposite shoulder.

We went wandering, Amandina said quietly. And we took a wrong turn, and we ended up in the aether battery room.

I touched it, Roksana admitted. There’s a bad water crystal in it.

“Just touching something with a crystal component out of alignment shouldn’t have caused a reaction like that, my dears,” Mommy said, gently stroking her back and tails. “Can you remember what happened?”

No. I think it was scary, though. Still kinda scared.

Aetheric resonance, Big Sister said, harmonic grim. I think one of the clusters is from the Yafaemi Estuary.

Roksana didn’t know what that meant, but Mommy did, because she said a bad word in Abanian. She didn’t feel like asking what aetheric resonance was right now. Maybe later.

Mommy was upset, and she and Amandina were definitely grounded, but Roksana was warm, and safe, and home, snuggled up with her Mommy and the comforting sound and smell of her aether. Everything would be okay, even if it meant no cake for a sennight.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[ask-the-sexyman-squad]

How often does Alastor remind Double Trouble that they're the most beautiful creature in all of creation?

No this isn't me wanting you to draw DT again what are you talking about why would I do that it's not like I'm OBSESSED or anything--

--@call-me-double-trouble

"Oh, quite often...~ How can one not notice their stunning self?"

His eyes trailed down to watch the questioner. His grin broadened, and he took Double Trouble's hand into his own, his eyes lighting up with almost a sweet, tender look under the usual chaotic and manipulative gaze.

"Their beauty is not my main focus: it's their wit, their type of entertainment and that oh-so appealing flair...because of that, I have fallen hard. Even now, after years of being together, there are still many things I would do for them,"

"As I would for him~ how could I not? He's been the utmost faithful, and I couldn't ask for more. That charming smile makes me weak at the knees~"

He brought them into a dip, bowing lowly. They brought their leg up a bit, bending the other in a comfortable position. Their hands went up to his head and the side of his face, while his hand remained on their back.

"Oh, the amount of lines I would cross for only him...the crimes I would commit~"

"I would die for them...I would kill for them."

"I have killed for them, a̸̪̎̈́́̅̒̀̃͜n̴̝͌́́̚ḑ̸̩̼͎̞̹̤́ ̸̡̢̦͔̝̗̳̦͂̀̓̚̕͝͝ŵ̵̼̰̣̰̥̮͊͂̚͝į̸̡̰̺̺̙̏͘͝͝l̵̬̏̈́̅̌͘l̴̯͛̍̀̊̚ ̵̻̒́͂̀d̵̢̨͈̤̝̥̮͂̋͐̾̈͝͠o̴̝͓͖̲̮̝͖͚̓̈́̂̓͘ ̷̖̀i̸̛̛̝̙̩̜̮̻̙͂̿͛̔͠͝t̸̝̥̩̥̣͋̒̈́̈̈́̃̾ ̵̖̙̿̄̋̑̏͐à̴̢̲̩̗̝̼̉́̓̊͗̚ͅg̵̣̒͐̃̊̓̍̌͂ā̶̞̓͂͝ị̴̲̥̣͍͉͔͝n̸̢̛̛͍̯̬̙̳̔͒̊̊͝.̶̲̻͇̣̻͖͑͊͘͜."

(NORMAL: and will do it again.)

[lem-argentum]

WORQOR LAR DOR WAS SO GOOOD I WAS HOPING THEY’D ADD MORE NPC TRIALS!!!!!!!! EHFKNZNFJ!!!!!!! <3333

^than pointing out mechanics. really cute. “big circle aoe from the boss guys watch out.” “the directional arrows r indicating the damage zones btw.” “this’s gonna be a raidwide everyone pop ur mit.” thank you i love youuuu <3

[scionshtola]

ppl on here will really tag their da posts with anything except the name of the game

[jangmo-othewarrior]

That Which Burns and Warms

Patty couldn't bare to see it, but she could feel it clearly.

It was like a volcano, or an uncontrollable wildfire. Demonic energy was scorching everything, turning lesser demons' corpses into stains on the ground. The only reason she was even spared was because of the Behemoth corpse on top of her, and she could smell it cooking and burning away. The devil erupting out this energy was still roaring, and it hurt her eardrums to listen to. How the other demons had pissed it off this bad, Patty didn't know.

All that she did know, was that as soon as it was done with the demons, it would be coming for her.

---

"Hey Pattycakes." Dante started talking as soon as she opened up Devil May Cry's front door. "You wanna come with?"

Patty was less than impressed with Dante's attempt to avoid the topic of their previous arguments, but at this point she expected it. So, she decided to play along, for his sake.

"Come with you where? To the grocery store? Bout time you ate something other than pizza." She didn't miss a beat, waltzing over to the jukebox. She could hear Vergil snort from over on the couch, nose deep in some old-ass poetry book.

"Hey!" Dante smacked the magazine he was reading onto his desk. "I eat sundaes too! And you would know, Brat." He mumbled. Patty laughed as she fiddled with the jukebox.

"Dante." Vergil doesn't even look up from his book.

Dante flinches like he's been burned and growls under his breath. Patty cocked her head as she looked over at the brothers. Were they fighting again? It wouldn't be the first time in the six months they've been back. "I was wondering if you would want to come with me on a job, Pats."

Her mental heelturn was instantaneous. "Really?" She gasps. "I swear, if you are lying to me Dante-"

She had started 'interning' for Devil May Cry before Dante had even returned from Hell, and he had been weird about it when he had gotten back. He was super cagey about it, but refused to tell her why. He had also 'forgotten' to tell her about some really big jobs, which had pissed everyone off (a hellbird roosting in Redgrave was kinda an all-hands-on-deck situation). Needless to say, she was finally called in after Lady shot him in the head a couple of times, and he was still upset about it! He had only put her back on the actual rotation after she had promised him to let him teach her how to use a sword - which was stupid because he knew she has watched him use Rebellion for years.

"I'm not, I'm not! Take your finger off of the trigger Pattycake!" Dante ran around his desk like a chicken with its head cut off. "Verge is being boring and refusing to go."

Vergil immediately glared at his brother with the force of a rolling thunderstorm. It would of bothered Patty a long time ago, but it didn't now. It shouldn't of bothered Dante either, but he grabs her hand and rushes out the door before anyone could get a word out.

Yeah, they definitely had a fight about something.

---

The job had been going well, almost to well.

An old park had just been bought by a private buyer who wished to put in a bowling alley. Cool, no problem there. The park was previously used in demonic ritual summoning. Not cool. Thus, a call to Devil May Cry.

There were a lot of the basics: Hell Cainas, Pyrobats, Riots, the whole works. There were more interesting threats as well, like Behemoths, Blitzes, Hellbats, and Baphomets, but nothing the two of them couldn't handle together. In fact, Patty was sure Dante could have handled them by himself. He was certainly acting like it.

It felt like Dante was all over the place, flying from enemy to enemy. There was a slight lack of his usual playfulness, but his quips with her didn't slow down in the slightest.

"You slowin' down, Pats?" He leaned his elbow on the Baphomet corpse he had just punched straight into the ground. Balrog lit up in what had to have been amusement.

"Not in a million years!" She yelled back at him as she aimed one of her custom twin pistols down a Hell Cainas' eye socket. Patty had given Nico very specfic specifications when she crafted these guns, and boy, she had delivered. Half of the Hell Cainas' skull was blown into nothingness.

"Now your even stealing my lines!" His voice rumbled weirdly as he spoke, and his eyes had an odd shine to them. "Brat."

The demons close to Dante suddenly started hissing under their breathes and one of them - a Riot - scurried away before Dante could shove King Cerberus down its throat. "Shit." He muttered.

"You think they're getting their boss?" Patty ran over, putting a spray of bullets into a Blitz as she did so. The other lesser demons were beginning to back off, which meant something bad was probably about to happen. Dante suddenly leaned his back onto her shoulder with his full weight, the asshole. The small bit of demonic power in her veins sparked at his touch.

"Hopefully. Then we can finally get paid." He laughed and softly knocked the side of his head into hers. For a second, Patty swore his entire body was vibrating as he bounced off of her and shot Ivory into an approaching Pyrobat. The air surrounding her felt like was vibrating too, if only for a moment.

Huh. She thought as Dante finished off the flying fire hazard. Must be demonic adrenaline. Dante landed on the ground with a stylish flourish, but his taunting suddenly stopped. Patty then felt more vibrations again, but this time from...

...the ground.

Instinctually, Patty pitched forward, using what little demonic energy her blood had to shove herself forward as much as possible. Seconds after she launched herself, a massive fire-covered claw ripped through the ground where she had been standing. Her landing wasn't graceful, but she was alive. Dante immediately grabbed her arm and heaved her up onto her feet. As they looked at their attacker, the devil hunters suddenly realized something crucial.

They were surrounded.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The hole in the ground from where the claw sprouted through the dirt was ripped open, and a Fury-sized demon crawled out, spewing magma as it did so. It was a disgusting thing, reptilian in body structure but covered in obsidian and magma. There were obsidian spikes and horns in what had to have been uncomfortable places, and its teeth jutted out of its skull like daggers. One of its clawed hands was lathering magma over its body like it was sunscreen, but it just looked like it was causing itself pain. To put it bluntly, the demon looked utterly nasty.

Dante immediately shot Ebony and Ivory into its volcanic hide, but the bullets got caught in it like a glue trap. The demon tried to laugh, but it just sounded like a clogged volcano about to explode. Dante let out a hiss underneath his breath, and Patty could practically feel his energy begin to wind up like a spring. She wasn't any better; her fingers never let go of the triggers.

"The blood of Sparda, truly a waste with a being like you. It could of seen its true potential elsewhere." It tutted like it was a disappointed school teacher.

"Oh really? Got any applications to turn in?" Dante's words sounded playful but there was an edge to his eyes.

The demon ignored him. "Your... successor even more so, sullying the Sparda clan with something like that."

Dante stilled at its words. His grip on her arm tightened, and he began to lean forward towards the demon. The edge in his eyes had turned as sharp as the blade that shared his name, and she could faintly hear a growl on the air.

Patty has heard enough; she whips her left handed pistol up in line with the demon's chest. "Enough chit-chat." The shot went off.

And chaos erupted onto the battlefield.

The shot had connected, but the bullet got caught in the obsidian on its chest. The demon, however, clearly felt offended by Patty's potshot. It charged, but Dante met it halfway. One half of Cavaliere slammed into the right side of its face, but it catches Dante in claws. Both of them fly off to the side, propelled by the force of Dante's demonic motorcycle buzz saws.

The lsser demons wanted in on the action too. Patty turns to shoot a pouncing Riot in the face. Sidestepping its flying corpse, she angles one of her pistols into the magma latherer's side. The rounds connected, but it only grunted as it vomited magma in Dante's direction.

"Darn." She muttered as she shoved the other pistol into a Baphomet's mouth and fired.

Dante launched himself forward in the blink of an eye, slicing upward with the DSD. The blade repeatedly spins along along the middle of its chest and neck, and the cut squirts out blood and fire. The demon, hissing angrily, lunged forward and blocked Dante's exit off with its arms, blocking him from view.

Logically, Patty knew he would be able to handle himself. He had saved the world, what, four times? Five? A single demon being a son of a bitch couldn't hurt him that badly. But, in the heat of the moment, all she could think about was that Dante was in danger. Shit!

Patty immediately unloaded one of her pistol's entire clip into the Ugly SOB's face. It turned to her with fire in its eyes, and her spine shivered. It gripped down onto Dante, and chucked him into a group of approaching lesser demons. "Dante!"

He was gone from view before he could even get a word out.

Stay calm, Lowell! He'll be okay, he's Dante! Just breathe. Her bleeding heart gladly accepted the reassurance, even as it picked up in speed when the SOB looked down at her.

"Human. How you managed to gain his favor, I will never know." The demon hissed. Patty vaulted over a Behemoth that had charged at her back. It ran straight into the SOB, but it just grabbed onto the giant, chained demon.

"Hate to break it to ya, you son of a bitch," Patty shakily yelled as she shot through an approaching Hellbat's wing, "but I have no idea what the hell you are talking about!" The SOB deviously laughed at her words.

"Fine. Lie to me all you want. It doesn't matter..." In one quick motion, it grabbed the Hellbat she just shot out of the air and pushed the Behemoth so hard it's chains broke. The Hellbat's head was then bitten off, and the demon held its back out in front of its chest. "...Because you're not getting out of here alive."

A lot happened in those few seconds.

Patty tried to back up, only for a Blitz to slam into her back. A large group of lesser demons suddenly started to scatter, as if afraid of something. The SOB shoved the dying Hellbat into the bullets and magma on its chest.

And the Hellbat, and all of the magma and bullets with it, exploded.

She doesn't remember much else other than pain, heat, and a crushing force after that. But there was a sizzle in the air, and the last thing she was able to hear before the world went dark was a voice.

"PATTY!!!"

---

She only woke up when the air shook.

But there was too much pressure to think. Too much, too much too much too much-

She gasped for air. It hurt to fill her lungs, hurt to breathe, but she did it anyway. She felt her lungs stutter, and a horrible sound filled the air. For a second, Patty panicked.

Oh, please no more demons please not right now. She kept breathing, because that was all she could do, as she waited for the demons to come after her again. Lord, she was tired of decade long chase.

But nothing came. Her lungs hitched again, and she heard the ragged, wheezing cough. Oh. That was her. Not more demons. Not Dante. Just her. No one else. Only her. And that hurt so much.

God, she needed to breathe.

She laid there - breathe in, ignore the stabbing in your lungs, breathe out, ignore the pressure - until she finally had the courage to open her eyes. The light burned for a second, but when she finally manged to look around, all she could see was a mass of rotten scales. There was a Behemoth corpse on top of her.

She immediately went to push it off of her, only for her entire body light up in pain. Everything burned, but all she could think was Get it off get it off get it off-

Her arms felt the least damaged, so she slowly pushed against the rotten scales to free her lungs. She couldn't even get it fully off of her, but her arms were holding something. It didn't help much, but at least some of the pressure was gone. A few inches of gracious space for her to inhale.

Patty took in a couple of deep breaths, the first in what felt like hours, and tried to assess her physical condition. Nero had said once on a job that it was really important to do that.

Everything hurt, which was good, because that meant she wasn't paralyzed. It was also bad, because everything hurt. Multiple things were broken, like her leg and definitely some of her ribs, but she was just glad her back was functional. She could barely keep track of the number of cuts she had, and the bruises that would surely form would only make that harder. The only one she definitely knew was there was the one on her forehead; she could taste the blood running down her face. Or maybe there was just blood in her mouth. No doubt the ground was stained with her blood. Fear only truly set in as her skin ran along a sharp, metal point on her stomach. There was a jagged piece of the Behemoth's chains the size of her hand sitting against her stomach. One wrong move, and it goes into her gut.

Wow. Great. Thanks Nero, but NOW WHAT DO I DO???

The only part of her that wasn't in pain was the tiny piece of demonic energy she inherited; it was just fine. In fact, it was sparking, helping her senses come back to her.

Wait, what? Why... And then she felt it. In the air, on her skin, everywhere. It thrummed in the air, against her strained arms, and it made everything she could see wobble with its mere existence. It was hot, sizzling even. A huge outpouring of this demonic energy was coming from... her left?

She turned her head, but her view was partially obscured by the Behemoth's half burned skull. She could see other demon corpses, and the ground was razed down to black ash. Suddenly, something flew into view. No, it was thrown into her view.

It was the SOB demon from before. That is, if it was still alive.

It was missing an arm, and it's lower half was charred so badly that one of the legs disintegrated as it fell down onto the ground. Almost none of the obsidian remained, and what little did was hanging on by small pieces of ripped skin. It's upper jaw was partially caved in, but the eyes moved. It was somehow still alive, and it was looking at something. It's eyes were wide with fear, and it's remaining arm tried to pull it away from whatever it was looking at.

For a second, Patty felt vindicated. Yeah, asshole, you should feel afraid. You should die for the countless people who have probably died because of you. You should suffer for throwing my-

Its terror partially came into view. And Patty's brain stopped.

Being the descendent of a summoner had a lot of perks. A small bit of demonic energy reserved for just for her, the ability to summon demonic energy recreations of some demons (eventually, she didn't have that down yet), and being able to gauge the general level of power of any demon she could see, just to name a few. The third one never really had many applications;in fact, she often forgot she could do it. She couldn't escape it now.

She couldn't even see all of it, but, God, she did not need to. Its back was turned to her, and she was glad about it. The SOB looked like a child next to it, it was so large. The body is covered in dark ridges and spikes that looked straight out of Hell. Firey, demonic energy is leaking out of it at any crack in its obsidian carapace. Four wings adorned its back, and swirls of demonic energy radiated off of them. She couldn't see its face, but the back of its head showed off two pairs of horns, one on the sides and the other on top.

Everything about its presence screamed power; the amount of demonic energy was overwhelming. Abigail had been bad to her, and this thing felt like it could eat Abigail for breakfast. Hell, she wouldn't be surprised if this demon could pick up the Yamato and snap it in half like a twig. All of the burning energy filling the air came from that thing, and seeing it made it all hit her at once.

ragekillbloodlustangerkillrageHOWDAREYOU-

Her head hurt, but she couldn't look away as the devil (that's what it was, a high devil, a king) shoved one of its claws into the SOB's eye sockets. Garbled screeching soundsfilled the energized air as the devil lifted it up with one claw. It pulled it up to what Patty had to assume was eye level, and stopped. The devil held it there as it hovered for a few seconds, and it opened its mouth. All Patty could see was sharp, black teeth and a lava colored tongue before it roared and slammed its prey into the ground.

Patty had to look away then. She had nearly lost her hold on the corpse, and she could feel the point of the Behemoth's chains poking into her lower ribs. It was hard to ignore the horrifying sounds of her previous attacker being squelched, but she couldn't look. She couldn't lose focus, not when the energy was already making everything more difficult; the air burned in a frenzy with the devil.

Patty couldn't bare to see it, but she could feel it clearly.

It was like a volcano, or an uncontrollable wildfire. Demonic energy was scorching everything, turning lesser demons' corpses into stains on the ground. The only reason she was even spared was because of the Behemoth corpse on top of her, and she could smell it cooking and burning away. The devil erupting out this energy was still roaring, and it hurt her eardrums. How the other demons had pissed it off this bad, Patty didn't know.

All that she did know, was that as soon as it was done with the demons, it would be coming for her.

The ground shook each time the demon pounded its prey into the ground. With each shockwave, she could feel her hold on the Behemoth slipping. Just breathe, Patty. Breathe.

It had felt like hours had passed when the devil's rage finally subsided. Its demonic energy began to die out in the air. The smell of burned flesh started to overpower her senses. Patty could taste the dried blood sticking to her face.

Breathe.

Her arms were shaking more now than ever, but she couldn't focus on the pain. She had to breathe. The devil was staring down at its kill, levitating a few feet above it like it was its superior. It probably was. Ragged, animalistic breaths escaped its maw.

Breathe.

The air was still burning, but the defensive, angry part of the air had finally began to fade away. The devil sensed no more enemies; anything that could threaten it was gone. All that was left was corpses.

Brea- Dante.

The devil would consider him a threat; Mundus did years before she had even met him. There was no way the devil would feel calm if Dante was around. If Dante was alive. Tears pricked her eyes. Her arms shook even more.

She hadn't even gotten to tell him how much he meant to her. They had been fighting so much over whether she should be a hunter, if she could take care of herself, and if she was ready for the world. This job had felt like a step forward, that Dante was finally pulling his head out of his ass. That maybe Dante was finally ready to acknowledge the fact that he was the closest thing she had to a father. And now he might be... gone.

Her arms finally gave out.

The Behemoth had lost a lot of its weight to the burning, demonic air, but the chains had remained unbothered by the burning air. The body had been moved just a bit, either by her arms, gravity, or the shaking ground. The corpse fell what few inches it could.

The sound that escaped her as the knife-like chain piece lodged itself in her stomach wasn't a scream, or even a true cry of pain. It was a weak, strangled noise. The sound of something rendered helpless through no fault of their own. The noise of something that desperately wants to live but sees no way out of their situation. The choked cry of someone that thinks they lost someone they love.

Her arms laid limp at her sides, and, for a second, she stared up at the sky. Pressure choked out any breath she had, and her blood was staining the ground again. Patty Lowell fought to keep her eyes open, but her exhausted and battered body forced them shut. She could barely think, and the world began to fall away.

I don't want...to die...please...Mom.....Da...

...

...warmth. It was so warm. It spread everywhere, into each exhausted limb and bleeding wound. Her small, demonic core pulsed like fire, accepting the warmth greedily. It held her up, keeping her mind aloft.

pleasedon'tgo It said. Why was it so nice? pleasestayipromisesafewarm

The ever-present pressure suddenly lifted, and she instinctively took in a breath. So many places suddenly hurt all at once, especially her stomach, but the warmth buzzed almost angrily over her wounds. Pressure returned suddenly to her stomach, and, in a moment of rage, she tried to sit up and throw the pressure off. The pain stopped her before she could even prop her elbows up. Falling back unceremoniously, a strained whine ripped out of her throat. For a split second, she braced herself for the pain of her skull knocking back onto the ground, but the impact never came. Instead, a gentle hand caught her before she could smack into the dirt.

...Who?... Patty managed to think, cracking open her left eye.

A demon looked back at her. Kneeling next to her, its wings blocked out the light, but its demonic core glowed faintly orange. Its head looked more like a skull, with no skin to speak of. There was no readable expression, and its eyes looked like yellow pits. Four vaguely recognizable horns wrapped around its head like a crown.

...The devil from earlier?!?

Why in Hell was it holding her like this? Her guns were laying on her chest too; had it gotten them for her? One of its clawed hands had caught her head, and the other was... Patty caught a glance at the sight of the claws gingerly applying pressure on the stab wound on her stomach. She had no energy to move, but she did have enough energy to squeak.

Out of all the ways Patty thought it would react, leaning down and making soft clicking noises was not one of them. She couldn't tell where its eyes were looking, but it didn't feel like it was looking down on her. The devil lifted her head with far too much care, and sniffed her forehead cut. Her entire body instinctually tensed up, fully prepared for the devil to brutally cave her head in.

To her udder shock, instead of immediately biting down after catching the scent of her human blood, the devil leaned back slightly and hissed under its breath. What is going on?? Patty's bewilderment must of shown on her face, because the demon made more soft clicking noises. Her breath hitched when it leaned back in again. She shut her eyes instinctively.

The open cut on her forehead was suddenly covered with a warm, wet substance. She immediately opened her eyes back up in alarm, only to see a tongue the color of fire rasp over her cut again. And again.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Her core sparked again as the warmth responded in tandem. safemustbesafemustbehealthy

To say Patty was overwhelmed would be an understatement. Every muscle in her body felt like it should be tense and in pain, but instead they were slowly relaxing into the warmth. Her tiny demonic core certainly didn't mind the devil's actions; it pulsed even more.

Apparently, while she was trying to process what was happening, the devil had decided its job was done. The cut slowly stopped buzzing with demonic energy, and it weirdly felt sealed. All of her cuts felt sealed, Patty realized, even the big one in her gut. The devil looked down into her wide eyes and chuffed affectionately. Its clawed hands suddenly shifted, moving underneath her to slowly lift her off of the ground.

Without warning it pressed her body on its chest, her left ear landing right on top of one of the many spikes surrounding the core. A small bit of energy cushioned her from the spikes and jagged edges. The wings folded in as well, practically covering her like a shield. For a second, all Patty could do was breathe and question why?

A rumble answered her.

It started in the devil's core, and expanded until its entire body vibrated with the noise. It was so loud, right next to her head, but it didn't hurt. The devil set its chin on the top of her head, and never stopped purring. That's what it was, purring. A grounding showcase of care that felt real.

And familiar.

It had only came up occasionally, but it had been happening for years. Every once in a while, there would be a rumble in his voice. They could be arguing over sundaes or she could be shooting a Hell Caina in the face, but it would appear out of the blue. Only to disappear as fast as it came, covered up by grins and snarky quips.

She brought a hand up to his demonic core and let the energy run through her fingers. It burned the air around it, small embers glowing and fading in the wind. As it hit her hand, it gave her the same sense of warmth she had felt when he had pulled the Behemoth corpse off of her. The same sense of warmth buzzing along her skin. The same warmth she had barely felt when she had first met him a decade ago.

"D-Dan-" Her voice broke off into a mangled cough. She shut her eyes as she fell limp from the force of it all on her still-battered body. The purring tapered off and Dante let out a worried warble as he gently caught her. Clearly Dante's human brain was taking a snooze, since he would normally say some silly quip to lighten the mood and cover up his nerves.

She would of reassured him if she hadn't see movement out of the corner of her eye.

Snatching one of her guns out of her lap, Patty leaned out of Dante's grip. Everything hurt, but that small bit of demonic energy pulled through as she aimed at the crawling, half-dead son of a bitch. The recoil hurt like a bitch too, but her reward was instantaneous. The SOB moaned out a pained gurgle as its remaining eye angrily searched for her. And then widened as she fell back and tucked her head underneath the unhinged jaw of one very pissed off devil.

The screech Dante released should of burst her eardrums, but the energy hovering around her thankfully muffled it. His wings wrapped around them both as he lifted into the air, and fireballs started shooting out like they were being fired from a minigun. When Dante's wings opened back up, the only thing left of the SOB was a chunk of his obsidian hide surrounded by charred flesh.

And then, like a switch was flipped, Dante was back to fussing over her. He gently lowered them both onto a relatively uncharred and less bloody patch, although he refused to let go of her. The purring was back as well, and Dante let out a croon as soon as she set down her pistols. Carefully, he set her down on his incredibly spiky lap, and gently knocked his head into hers, wary of the sharp points cutting her. Despite everything, Patty just felt relief and exhaustion, and she sagged into Dante's affection. As he set his head on top of her's again, Patty noticed something new. Words.

"Slipping out of safety and attacking your enemy. Heh, course my nestling takes after me too much..." They were low, and hard to separate from the rumbling purr constantly underneath it, but they were there.

Nestling. The term made her suck in a breath. Vergil once called Nero that after a really intense misson, and Trish had explained that it was a term of endearment parent demons used with their children. If Dante is refering to her as his nestling, then that means that he sees her as...

Patty burst into tears.

Dante immediately stopped everything: the purring, the words, the demonic energy, everything. The warble that left his mouth just made her cry even harder. She held her head in her hands.

Is this real? Their relationship had been so rocky lately with his overprotective actions, because of course he was being overprotective. God, Vergil totally knew and was hammering him about it. Patty's thoughts were moving a mile and minute.

She had always held out hope for a father to enter her life when she was little, but that had stopped after meeting Dante. It only after he disappeared into Hell again did it finally hit her why. And now he was telling her that all of him, human and demon, wanted her as his kid? It was almost too much to bare. But she needed confirmation. She needed to know for sure.

Her tiny demonic core responded immediately, reaching out with what little energy it had to connect with Dante's for a split second.

worrysorrypleasebeokayimsorrydontgoiloveyou-

That was all Patty needed to know.

She launched herself at Dante, wrapping her arms around his giant, spiky torso and shoving her face into the most comfortable place she can, directly above his core. Dante instinctually wraps his arms around her in return, and his wings join in a second later. Questioning clicks sound out from above her head, but her answering tears just fall past the jagged edges near his core.

"..Patty?"

His voice is rough, deep, and has a weird echo, but it was his. It was tentative, worried, and almost sounded scared. His energy hangs in the air, disconnected but still nervous. Her throat burns, her head is throbbing, and she feels like walking corpse, but she just needs him to know.

"I love you too, Dad."

It barely gets out in one piece, but those words hang in the air. For a split second, Patty is terrified that Dante didn't hear her, or that she was completely off base somehow. But then, the energy comes rushing in as Dante curls himself around her even more. It's as if a dam had been released, the warmth wrapping itself around her like a blanket. Dante's purring was almost too loud; she could barely hear anything else. He nuzzled the top of her head, almost as if he was terrified she'd disappear. She laughed into his chest, a battered but happy mess.

There would be time for arguments, explanations, and personal conversations later. Right now, Patty couldn't give a damn about anything, not when there were tears mixing with her own in her lap. They should be burning her, the fiery, demonic things that they were, but all she felt was warmth.

[nabaath-areng]

on the downside, ffxiv wont boot for me at all so i wont be able to continue msq for another 10 days at minimum....... <:-(

[rnenageries]

JUNELEZEN 2024 DAY 28: HOMECOMING

"No one enjoys coming home for a Funeral.

[calamitydaze]

i didnt expect the shift with mr beast to happen for another like 5 years tbh, idk why, i kind of thought it would come from an old disgruntled employee, but this gradual disillusionment is probably better for actually discussing issues, rather than a twitter bloodbath i guess

forever glad the dteam decided to stick with florida tbh

me too, on both counts! he seemed on top of the world (and really he still is, a few 100k tweets won’t change his view numbers) so him falling out of favor wasn’t on my radar for a good while yet. i don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon, and twitter discourse probably isn’t going to make a meaningful effect in how he presents himself. but if it pushes back against the general mr-beast-ification of youtube that’s been happening then i think it’s worthwhile :P