#if I ever write it

[doalkaynaksuyu]

ofc it's not gay to stargaze with your rival

[cerealboxlore]

I have no self control

I have a math exam this Sunday

And a lot of homework to do

But

Imagine a DC Captain Marvel one shot fic where it centers on Billy Batson and his self esteem about himself crumbling down one day after a tragic failure in a battle against Dr. Sivana or Black Adam, and he keeps himself in the Rock of Eternity to be by himself during this time. He wonders if he can even be the Champion of Magic anymore after what happened

He's upset and wandering around the RoE when the ghost of the Wizard appears to him and speaks to Billy. He reassures him that he is the perfect champion, and that he is more than worthy.

Billy doesn't seem to agree.

So with the stubbornness of an ancient old man, the wizard displays a magical image of all Billy's friends, family, and JL teammates who talk about him, praise him, worry about him and respect him.

Billy sees how his family wants the best for him, and how they just want to help their brother be happy.

He sees how Batman praises his sunny nature and optimistic view on the world to his batfam in the batcave, expressing concern if he should speak to him if his sunny nature ever dims out.

He sees how Wonder Woman refers to him as an honory brother of hers, and how she respects his modesty despite being a champion of several gods, never letting the power go to his head like most would.

He sees how Super man, the superhero he admired since his childhood and still now to this day, admit that he is envious of Captain Marvel at times for his power and ability to believe in the best in other people, believing in redemption and kindness. "A better boy scout than he could ever be".

Billy begins to see these magical images blur in his eyes, and he welcomes the overwhelming sobbing tears rolling down his face as he realizes...he is worthy.

He has always been worthy.

[eskawrites]

This just in Soldier by Ingrid Michaelson is a ronance song

Specifically a thriving in the apocalypse song

[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.

[miqotepotatoe]

The 3am thoughts while I try to sleep have created a new au involving ghost Cole and my next gen ninja (mostly Milo). Fluff and feels galore.

It all begins with Day of the Departed, only instead of Cole returning to being alive he fails and becomes the new Master of the House and is effectivly erased from the world. He's stuck in this limbo worse thsn death for 300 years, until Lloyd's students the new Masters of the Elements of Creation and the Elements of Wojira decide to move into the Airjitzu Temple as secret ninja base (the curse that turns you into a ghost is no longer in affect due to the Yin Blade being destroyed).

One of these new Elemental Masters is Milo, the current Master of Earth. Though unlike his teammates his elemental powers are very weak and uncontrollable, the best he can do is make mini earthquakes and accelerate plant growth. As such he mostly plays a support role on the team.

He doesn't understand why his powers are weaker than everyone else's, until he finds and quickly befriends the ghost haunting their new ninja base. The centuries of lonliness mixed with the temple curse have caused Cole to forget everything about himself and his life before his non-existance. But through bonding with Milo and the other new ninja, he slowly regains bits of his humanity.

Milo wants to help his new friend, so he begins to look into a way to break the temple curse and free Cole that doesn't require having an innocent soul take his place. His only lead leads to a certain now imortal sensei, and something to do with the forces of death and life coming together

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

Okay, but consider: Rex is caught in a time loop on Umbara, as the only one

TW for Umbara's everything, except I traumatize Rex even further. I intend this to be something of a fix-it or at least hopeful, but like, there's implied suicidal thoughts and. lots of um. Heavy Angst. ask to tag please

The first time is horrible. Like. canon. Then he wakes up again at the beginning of the campaign and-

He's wary, and tries to tell himself that it's a dream. He knows it's not. He tries to change things but it doesn't end up too different than before.

He wakes up again. What's going on? He's still trying not to aggravate Krell too much, these lightsabers tearing through his men still haunting his dreams. He stands his ground more often than not but it's a dangerous game - again he loses.

He wakes up again. This must be some sick joke. Fives and Jesse - they know something is up. He tries to save as many men as he can, tries to stop the friendly fire before it can really begin - not much changes. It's him that kills Krell, but at what cost?

He wakes up again. He barely gets to his feet. He can't see themm all die again. He goes regardless, because what if he makes a difference this time? What if he manages to save them? The time loop is irrelevant as long as he gets another chance. He fails.

He wakes up again. Nothing works. He doesn't want to get his brothers killed, but he loses control of himself. Appo takes him aside, puts him on the side lines for this - they don't want to risk losing Rex. Everyone is worried. Rex just stumbles along like it's a fever dream. (If only.) Few things change.

He wakes up again. He just wants to scream. He tries a more offensive approach - Krell nearly loses his temper then and there. A part of him wonders if it would be better now than later, when even more have died. It sends the same as any other time.

He wakes up again. He doesn't have the energy to fight anymore. It's no use. But then Krell sends them against the 212th again - he snaps, he stops it from happening, and he directly confronts Krell once more. He refuses to back down. Krell reveals himself and - this time, Rex ends the day with a lightsaber through his guts.

He wakes up again. He can barely keep himself upright. He keeps feeling the phantom pains of his death - he keeps trying to push through. Nothing works out.

He wakes up again. He doesn't even try anymore.

He wakes up again. He can't do this anymore. He barely registers what's happening - he knows how it ends anyway. He struggles to separate this time from all the previous ones. He it hit by a stray bolt; Kix makes it to him just in time to see him die. At least this time he doesn't have to watch everyone else die.

He wakes up again. He barely speaks, drinks, does anything more than going through the needed motions to appear alive. He won't talk to anyone concerned about him. He can't do this anymore. However this ends - he just wants it to end. It doesn't.

He wakes up again. He shoots Krell on sight. Except Krell reflects the bolts back to him - Rex dies laughing and under the horrified gazes of everyone around him. What use is there in carrying on?

He wakes up again. His body refuses to get up. He doesn't care either way. Skywalker pries out of him what's up - it's a long and gruelling process, but the Force tells him that Rex speaks the truth. They try to change things, but even Anakin knows he can't just attack Krell like that. He still has a hard time actually believing it, too. He sends Ahsoka instead of himself and stays, and they end up with less casualties.

Then he gets called to the battle above the capital in an Umbaran fighter - he's the best pilot, after all. Rex stays, and it's going so well - but everything keeps gnawing at him, his living nightmares keep resurfacing, he crashes.

It's an Umbaran that hits him, but at least he now has an idea of how it might work. Maybe, if he's lucky, the time loop breaks when he saves them.

He wakes up again. Approaches Skywalker directly. Krell is greatly displeased when he sticks around and... it seems to work. And still, when Anakin is forced into the medbay, he sends them against the 212th. But Rex knows. He tells his men, has them marching without helmets on. They don't start firing and got to arrest Krell. This time, they have Skywalker on their side - and Krell still murders many of them, but only a fraction of the casualties of the other times. They execute him for treason - and with a Jedi on their side.

Then he wakes up again.

And for a horrible moment he thinks it's all starting again, it's not ending - before he notices he's still at the post they set up.

He stopped caring a long time ago, and as the realization hits that it's over and they made it and they're still alive he starts laughing and crying almost hysterically because... because they're alive.

And it's finally over.

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

should be working on new chapters for the current fics but instead I'm listening to 100 gecs on repeat and thinking about the wip to come

[inevitablemoment]

Okay, so I’ve been listening to a lot of 80s music over the past twenty-four hours, and my brain is just going... Wilverly 80s AU when?

... she said, knowing that she’s the only one who cares.

[heller-castiel]

my daddy issues dean fic WILL kill me

[midnightstollsinlatefall1]

This is actually dialog from my Agents of Atlas WIP

Rick: You wanna borrow my phone, see if you can call someone? Darcy: I don't memorize people's phone numbers.

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[tariah23]

The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[hhhhunty]

How funny that she never considered that.

[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY