#rhythm: dantalion

[tsunagite]

Fragrant Sanctuary miscellaneous

[2dkapsddr]

September 15th, 2024 - Arcaea

in terms of rhythm gaming today? we're back to takin' it relatively easy, just maxin' & relaxin'... is what you MIGHT think!! but NO, we went HAM today with some of these scores, y'hear?!?! like sure at first, today wasn't really goin to be anything special besides a Dual Doom Deathmatch [ETR-10] upscore and a few challenge attempts for the Arcaea Community Temple (banger server btw y'all should join)... but then i gave it another shot for the fun of it and got a 3-FAR FULL RECALL out of NOWHERE!!!! sure sure, no PTT raise, but it was still an EXTREMELY impressive score that i don't know how i got

...and yet, when i thought i couldn't top that performance... i proved myself wrong in my attempts to choke on Dantalion [FTR-10+] for a daily challenge that required just barely doing so. First few images were of me failing the challenge with comically high scores (EX+ fail imaaaagine) before i finally passed it, but then i decided to Lock In on one attempt where i was doing good and refuse to choke... which netted me a raise from 992 to 997 and +0.01 PTT???? ha??????? (ohyeah, i passed the challenge later after that with an EX and 1% tempest gauge remaining)

this too as part of a challenge later that day, i guess!! Dandelion (FTR-8, MAX-14 -> MAX-13)!!! what an amazing upscore amirite???

[cloakedandsoaked]

Celestial North

It was warmer than Dantalion was used to it being, when he visited this place. Barely below freezing, in fact, and the ice was thinner than he would have liked, though there were still several metres of it separating him from the sea below. A glance skyward showed he was as close as the stars could guide him. He would travel on foot from here, and rely on his other senses to find his destination. 

A few kilometres north, he stopped. The feeling of the entire earth spinning directly below him couldn’t be faked.

He cleared a circle some twenty metres across, and smoothed the surface down to a perfect sheen with a wave of his hand. Only the keenest of eyes could spot the reflection of the Cynosure and the surrounding sky, but Dantalion had keener eyes than most. The star declined farther away from the celestial pole than it had sometimes done in the past, but closer than usual. In fact, of the hundred or so times he’d made this journey, only a dozen saw the five-fold light of Polaris as the North Star at all.

When everything was prepared, the demon sat and rested for a moment.

He sipped from a verdigris can that could only be described as incongruent. He would need his strength, and tonight, strength came in the form of aspartame. Chilled fingers drew small loops on the ice.

<You're late.>

The voice caught him off guard. (The voice didn't catch him off guard.) 

The voice seemed even colder than he had expected, laced with a familiar irritation that he probably should have expected. (The voice was exactly as cold as he expected, and, indeed, could not have been otherwise.)

The voice spoke directly to his mind. (The voice, as is most apparent to us outside viewers, was from his mind.)

A figure appeared in the center of the circle, only a meter away, mirroring Dantalion's pose exactly.

Dantalion didn't allow his gaze to linger for long. "I'm sorry, Teacher. I was-- " He reached for a lie: I was tending my garden, and found his mind forcibly redirected to the truth: my library.

<As well as usual?>

"No."

<No.> There was no judgement in the agreement, merely a quiet acknowledgement. The figure tilted its head. <What are they like?>

Dantalion flinched. His forced hallucination was going off script; that was never a good sign. <~A dead tree's root system holds the earth together, and provides a home for many creatures.~> He sat his soft drink aside. <~Honeysuckle and lilac grow on the banks of the river. The waters rise again and again, but each year, the flowers return. The river becomes rerouted by a dam. // Fire, and fire, and fire. // A man follows a mirage in the desert, and finds water. // A copse houses many small creatures, but its resin burns at the cars parked below. // A dust devil. A meal tainted with ash. // A broken pane of glass. // An open cupboard reveals that the mementos within are now moth-eaten. Sour cherry candy, melted, blisters the skin it touches. // Rum burns in a throat and belly. Heirloom china is broken without a thought. // A hatchet strikes a wrought iron fence. Sparks fly. // A grain of wheat gives way beneath a mill. Bread comes later. // Fairy lights and grave dirt and blood and sugarcane. // A flame that appears small, but is really just far away. // A would-be martyr considers recanting.~> He paused, grimacing as he drew out the last image: <~A garden, scorched to the soil, is never replanted. In place of new life, a gift of honey is spilt upon the ground.~>

Is this good enough? It's not an excuse, but is it worthy? Two hundred thousand years, two deaths, and a very long reconstruction had failed to temper his desire to please, even as he tried to stifle the thoughts.

The other figure gave no answer, which Dantalion at least knew to take as a genuine lack of an answer. <Why are you here?>

Dantalion pondered the point for a moment, images flashing through his mind -- crisis, confusion, brokenness, despair -- and tried to find the trail that would lead to a true answer. <I think I broke something vital in me. I need to find out when and why and how, so I can fix it.>

<You noticed you were confused,> the other voice summarised, not incorrectly. 

Dantalion felt his mind suddenly enveloped as if in an embrace, and let himself be taken in whole. This was why he was here, uncomfortable though he knew it would be as his own recent memories began swirling around him like a smoothie in a blender, a trillion thoughts and feelings and sensations reeling about at incomprehensible speed. He knew better than to try and grasp at any individual one, as the disorientation would grow exponentially. Instead, he waited (minutes? surely it could not have been hours) for the spinning to slow to a comfortable twirl. At this speed, he could see the memories tinged with crisis almost as if they had a separate color filter laid upon them, instead of the color being smeared into the total. Spinning, spinning.... stop!

The whirling came to an abrupt stop, one memory focused in his mind: the first domino in the particular line of crises that currently held him hostage. Bingo. But unexpectedly (unexpectedly!), the spinning began anew, disallowing his mind to find purchase in the memory, disallowing any of the analysis he had come to this place expecting.

Another crisis memory presented itself. A pause. 

Again the spinning, again a pause.

Again.

Again.

Addled beyond all prediction, Dantalion grasped at each memory, striking out for purchase with the grip of his mind, only to be forcibly ripped away each time. Each furious pull was agonising, in a way the demon had never experienced pain before, not in his entire existence.

Again.

Again.

Suddenly the voice thrilled across the surface of his mind in a violent bellow. (He had never heard that voice bellow. Such a thing seemed anathema.)

<WHY ARE YOU HERE?>

Stunned, Dantalion skittered back from the other figure in the circle, bum never leaving the ice. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.

<Why are you here?> the voice repeated, still firm, but (blessedly!) no longer shouting.

The demon, now shaking as if from the cold, took a deep breath. "I notice that I am confused!" he spat. Somehow, repeating his part in the script forced the crest of terror in his gut to ebb into a thing closer to soft alarm. This was what he had come for, not whatever-the-fuck had just happened.

<Let us try again.> This time, the other mind grabbed Dantalion with all the subtlety of a typhoon, pulling him under and into the maelstrom of his own memories.

Gasping and flailing against the current, the demon took his next breath as the churning slowed once more, stopping at a very familiar memory. This time, the greenish tinge of crisis was minimal. Instead, the memory glowed golden with contentment: A folk-styled resort room in Finland, burrowed beneath a stack of blankets with someone he loved. Dantalion clung to the mirage as if to a life preserver, sucking in the warmth like a man's next breath.

He cried aloud when he was ripped from it and thrown into the chaos once more.

The next stop again featured a bed, this time a hospital bed with a lovely, if wan, redhead within. He was bent over her, and this time saw the scene from two impassioned directions. Then, before he could so much as react, he was flung back to spinning.

Again. A London flat.

Again. Magical hands in thick fur.

Golden memory after golden memory, each torn from his bleeding mental grasp like a toenail ripped from its bed by a particularly unforgiving kerb. His physical form sobbed, collapsing forward onto the ice in supplication. <Make it stop, Teacher!> But it did not stop, and the pain continued with each memory shredded from his consciousness.

Some two dozen memories in, he finally submitted, letting his mind be heaved and hurled every which way without resistance, taking only the shortest moment of solace in each pause before the disorientation began anew. Still, it did not stop; fond moment after fond moment found him, all within the past decade. Nor did the confusion cease, for each memory was followed by the careening press of time and rhythm and ways to live that interspersed the few moments of genuine joy he was allowed.

Surely, this time it had been hours when the spinning slowed to a final and complete stop, spitting Dantalion back into himself, a ruined spectre to inhabit the body lying prostrate on the ice. Sense was truly beyond him, now, and with it, speech; he was unaware of his own mental howling, a cant consisting only of why-why-why-why?

Only minutes, though, did it take for him to come back to himself. He grasped for the memories, making sure each was still in its designated place. Safe. They're safe. His mind was still its own. Wild confusion lit his eyes as he dared a glance up at the other figure, who was still sitting quite upright, quite unbothered, quite normal (as much as such a creature could be called 'normal' in the first place). Dantalion flinched when the voice arose once more:

<Why did you fight me so?>

Pain, again, and this time a pain of the heart. They were never meant to be opposed. Not in the beginning, when there were truly two of them, and certainly not now. Why are you here? The question echoed in Dantalion's mind, with no voice needed to call it forth. And then the pain was joined by shame.

"Is this the lesson, then, Teacher? Am I set against myself, a clinging, pathetic thing? No great crisis to undo the Great Duke Dantalion, merely the inability to let go of the past, good or ill?" It was a bit of an intuitive jump, accepting the horrible thing he had just experienced as an object lesson rather than a direct attempt at correction, but, well. They rather did know one another's language. "Have I come all this way to be merely kicked down the road like an empty tin can that doesn't know its place?"

Of course, he was allowed to be a touch bitter, if the mental construct he put so much effort into creating was allowed to torture him. Or so he reasoned.

<Let go,> the voice adjured, though it carried the weight of a command. Such things always did.

Dantalion pushed himself up, grabbed the can of soda which had emptied itself onto the ice in the fray, then stood and brushed the stray crystals from his clothing. He stared at the other for a long moment, heavy with spite and tenderness.

Then, in a blink, both figures were gone, and the circle held only Fresca and starlight.

[shhheep]

oc stuff, maybe ill explain a bit

story - a group of friends start a blackened death metal band but unknowingly recruit an actual demon as the vocalist and bassist, this anime is slice of life

band members in order - mathias(lead guitar), eleanor(rhythm guitar), luka(drums), envy(vocalist, bassist, demon)

demons: dantalion(envy), allocer, zepar

others: adrian(mathias’ bf), alloces(allocer as a cat)

thank you for reading ...

[julio-viernes]

___

1967 fue un año muy complicado para las bandas de rhythm and blues británicas, que veían que o se subían al carro de la moda o se iban a quedar más pasaos que la polka de Ginger Rogers, aunque, paradójicamente, la nueva modernidad consistiera en parte en eso, en recuperar los cuentos y músicas de la abuelita. Zoot Money convertía su banda en Dantalion´s Chariot - que flashy-, Stevie Winwood tomaba las de “Villatraffic”, Eric Burdon conocía a una chica llamada Sandoz y volaba a los USA, Rolling Stones, Pretty Things, Yardbirds... La desbandada fue generalizada, sólo Van Morrison y unos pocos más se mantuvieron pisando firme su terreno, ajenos a la psicodelia y el Swinging London. 

Perdido entre algunos de los singles más brutales de su carrera, los Pretty Things presentaron “Emotions” (13 de abril 1967), el LP menos Pretty Things de los 60s y tal vez de toda su carrera. Ese disco extraño que no acaba de cuajar y los fans irredentos tienden a “disculpar” (”era la época” etc...) pero muy recomendable para la gente más pop (hasta parecen los Zombies) y amantes de lo naif. Lo es tanto en alguno de sus cortes, que anuncia al Bowie Deram del junio siguiente, por ejemplo ese “Children” con sus turutas ¿tocadas por un gnomo?

[queensconquest]

orbitcd said:  ' i'm so tired. ' he muttered. his legs were cut up and dirty, his hair was chopped off from the waist-length locks. he had cried when everything was over, nothing else existed because of him. his ears were still ringing from those curses set on him. he stared at his wrists from his sitting position, studying the markings on his flesh. he then offered a blank, exhausted stare towards the emperor --- his master now. ' what next? '

   There  ,  hovering  with  the  slow  and  steady  rhythm  of  his  wings  ,  Lucifer  hovered  in  the  air  with  an  unreadable  expression.  But  his  gaze  is  fixated  on  the  one  before  him  now.  Dirtied  and  battered  from  battle  ,  a  mess  before  his  eyes.  But  one  that  had  been  reborn  in  a  sense  ,  when  he’d  told  him  to  throw  away  his  old  name   to  become  Dantalion.

   His  heels  lightly  touched  the  ground  as  he  landed  before  his  first  and  only  Household  member.  Delicate  ,  perfect  fingers  reached  down  to  gently  run  over  his  cheek  ,  tracing  down  under  his  chin. “  We  go  home.  Then  we’ll  get  you  cleaned  up  and  you  can  rest  ,  as  you  deserve.  Worry  not  about  what  comes  after.  I  can  and  shall  tell  you  once  you  awaken  ,  Dantalion.  “  He  murmured  ,  his  voice  warm  and  soothing  like  a  fire  offering  warmth  against  the  winter  chill.  

[reflectionbound]

→ slow dance. ← @orbitcd​ said: u gonna say no to a slow dance w ur bf will?

     Just short of a miracle, really. Somehow, Dantalion’s convinced the young noble to join him. Adamantly, William has claimed his reputation relies on a proper public image. Thus, he’s declined to take Dan to a few charity events and his school’s winter gala. However, a visit to Hell is another story entirely. That, and it’s a lie to say Will wants to decline all these opportunities. In truth, he simply holds his future dear to his heart. He can only hope Dan understands what it means to become England’s youngest Prime Minister.

     A visit to Hell on the solstice, and it’s another happening. Every famous name lines the hall’s of Camio’s palace as he sits on the throne. Even William recognizes how dashing he looks (or rather how sparkling the crown looks). A variety of people take to the ballroom, heels tapping away in merriment. And now, Dan’s invited Will to join him. Boyishly, he goes wide-eyed as Hell’s Duke offers a gloved hand. Hesitantly, William extends his own and lifts from his seat. All in one breath, he’s swung to the Dan floor at what Will deems an unfounded pace. However, he does his best to keep up. One hand rests in Dan’s, while the other curves against Dan’s side. The heat to his cheeks must be telling of how out of his realm this feels. He’s only ever danced with ladies, and that was mostly for practice. Will’s never had to perform in this manner.

     But the harp plays a tune that some might label as divine, and the mood’s so jolly that he won’t dare be the person to spoil it. And the look to Dantalion’s eyes is so pure, William can’t help but feel the butterflies in his stomach. Ridiculous as it may be, he finds himself enjoying the moment. So much so that he presses his forehead against Dan’s chest to hide the embarrassment he feels as the rhythm carries them away with it. 

     " You’re not upset, are you? ” He mutters, lips brushing against the fabric of Dan’s shirt. It makes no difference, how softly he speaks, as Will’s grown accustomed to Dan’s sensitive hearing. “ That we can’t do these things in public? ”

[shroudingmists]

@h0rny-on-main

(I’m probably gonna’ go way overboard on this, because I am a fountain of feelings.)

--------------------------------------

“So...it’s those ones, today?” Tirumala observed from the opposite side of the room, pulling his shirt over his head. Reaching up to rearrange his hair into a messy bun, he leaned on the wall to watch his mate--the ghost of an amused smirk gracing the room with its presence. He definitely knew what those ones meant: they were to have some very special guests, indeed.

He loved watching him get ready in the morning. A silent pleasure he partook in, and and all time constraints be damned. The way he did his hair, his make-up, the outfit he’d chosen--laid out beautifully the night before...all of it. But, especially, the boots he chose from a brilliantly established collection.

Letting his eyes wander, Tirumala’s breath momentarily caught. A common occurrence, to be certain, but today...

A garter belt to hold up his stockings, their straps stark against the creamy white skin of his thighs--peeking from corduroy shorts that left very little to the imagination. His shirt, a baggy off-one-shoulder number, was obviously meant to accentuate them (and to show off his lovely neck, but that was another story), and did it ever.

But it was those boots, which he lovingly watched him lace with such delicate care, that pulled it together. They always did, and he loved that about him. Finally, a solid click on the hardwood floor, and Vanadev stood with an expectant grin.

“Nothing but the best,” the Imperial finally answered, prancing close to the man leaning on the wall. Tirumala eagerly wound his arms around his waist, burrowing his face against his neck. The eagerness, the excitement, he felt it all radiating from his happily humming mate--they would be here soon, no doubt. It was a damn good thing he’d traded sentry duty today...not that he’d admit it, and not that Vanadev wasn’t already well aware.

--------------------------------------------------------

He liked helping out at the bar, he truly did--and Iavor was always eager to see them working together. Call it a silent understanding between two folks with compulsive tendencies, but whatever put him at ease, put Iavor at ease all the more. It was...refreshing.

It was also a good chance to see Vanadev at work, and to see the sheer amount of attention he really drew.

On any given day, the Emerald Locust Tavern was a haven for any weary traveler along the road through the Labyrinth. Some came from neighboring clans simply for the companionship, others had come upon learning a rumor--a very famous rumor, indeed. But that was for another time--as Vanadev was already quite distracted for the day.

Morgan had made sure to stop by early for tea, and to read a letter from Crisis--something both of them always had time for. A kiss for both of his fathers, and he was off on important business, looking as beautiful as the both of them in the morning light. He really could be their biological son, Tirumala thought. Smiling, he hid it. As far as he was concerned, he was.

The morning and afternoon proved to pass quickly. Handing out food and drinks, politely and quietly conversing with guests, even stopping for a nice lunch of his own--made by Cahir, who was overjoyed to see him there. Sometimes, he forgot just how...blessed he was, but this...this was indeed a wonderful reminder.

And then, the door jingled again, but this time...

“Galuré!” Vanadev’s delightfully high-pitched squeal of excitement echoed--followed by a leap across the bar that followed was equally as impressive...especially in those heels.

Turning his head, Tirumala smiled, meeting a pair of red eyes--first and foremost. It was amazing, he thought to himself, how he could find them among any in a crowd.

And while his mate swung his happily babbling guest around in his arms, his arms found their way around the shoulders of the man beside him.

“Dantalion,” he breathed in delight, a sudden and familiar purr rumbling deep in his chest. “Welcome back...both of you.”

-------------------------------------------------------- 

“Go on ahead--I can take over here,” Cahir called from behind the four men, smiling politely.

“Will you send some food up later?” Vanadev called back, gripping Galuré’s hand as if he’d lose him somehow. His smile, a mile wide, couldn’t help but infect the Coatl behind the bar.

“Of course, of course, don’t you worry about that. Oh, and Rafe left you guys a bottle of that wine you like! He told me to tell you--hold on, just a second, here...aha.”  Cahir hummed, rummaging behind the bar for a few moments until he produced a slender bottle, and four glasses. “He says, uh. ‘Have fun,’ to you all,” he laughed, cheeks tinting the mildest pink of happiness.

Vanadev, leaning suddenly close to Galuré‘s ear, hummed something against it.

Tirumala rolled his eyes, having read his lips. Oh, we will, won’t we?

--------------------------------------------------------

Behind closed doors, it wasn’t long until Vanadev kissed Galuré with such hunger, that it set Tirumala’s very being on fire. He knew how much he missed him--it was the same aching pang he felt for Dantalion, who he was almost shyly nuzzling against from behind.

“I...mi--mmm--missed youuu...” the Imperial whimpered against the beautiful man’s lips, hands roaming to grip his waist and lower back respectively. His motions were so amazingly thoughtful, that it all but took his breath away. Avoid that place. Avoid this place, unless he tells him so. Vanadev could act the monster, but Galuré’s wishes were not something he intended to ignore at any point in time. “G--Ga...aaa...” the man hummed, shivering suddenly. The visible skin of his legs erupted in bumps, and Tirumala chuckled against Dantalion’s neck.

When his precious companion met his eyes again, it was easy to slip into their first greeting kiss. His body was no stranger to Dantalion’s being--the power of Plague melded with him, warped something in his body--a body of Nature, and he not-so-secretly loved every moment they shared that together.

From the scarring on his tongue, to the intense clash of their teeth when they pressed just slightly too close, there was no doubting the bonds that they’d made--all of them, together, right here and now. It was...breathtaking, really. Almost literally, as he took a gulp of air. When had he pressed Dantalion to the wall? Expression a bit drunk on power and desire, Tirumala finally let himself chuckle

When Galuré squeaked in surprise from the side, even he peered to see Vanadev balancing the man with little effort on his very bare waist. Well, that certainly hadn’t taken him long. Shifting, pulling Dantalion to rest back against his chest, Tirumala placed a finger beneath his chin in a silent bid to watch.

“Is he...still wearing his--?”

“Mhm, yes...it seems they both like that, don’t they?” Tirumala whispered, rubbing firmly against the Coatl’s backside, steadying his waist with both hands to ensure the depth of such a movement. “He’s wanted to do this to him for ages...and I suspect, by that look, that Galuré’s wanted the same...?”

A surprised gasp from his companion, and the Wildclaw smirked wickedly.

“He’s so...”

“Slender? Mmhm. But, you forget...he’s a king, you see?”

A flash of surprise, and delight in those beautiful red eyes. Tirumala couldn’t resist pressing his palm against him, fingers curling, cupping, squeezing--just as Vanadev’s did, to prepare Galuré fully. The wet sounds were torture for both of them, it would seem, but certainly not as the little brat prince’s frantic moaning.

All it took was a look. A soft kiss, Vanadev shifting Galuré just so, into position. Their silent conversation was all but maddening in its beauty and simplicity, even as the man’s expression contorted in an anguish unique to this sort of situation. Inside. He was inside already. His arms weren’t even shaking in effort, lips fluttering with instruction for Galuré to hold fast to him.

Tirumala read them easily--years of practice, and another one of his guilty pleasures, to say the least.

There.

There, look at you...

Look at--by the Lady, you are beautiful, aren’t you? I barely had to do anything...you were playing with yourself, weren’t you? Or, maybe with Dantalion...?

Tirumala gasped at his companion’s neck as Dantalion rubbed back against him, challenge redolent in his eyes.

Did you fuck him on the road here? You did, didn’t you--couldn’t resist, you were so excited, weren’t you?

Suddenly, Dantalion was in Tirumala’s hand, his teeth digging into his shoulder as he gave him a firm stroke. So hard, already...but how could he resist? How could either of them, with their mates like...that?

Galuré was beautiful, he would never deny that. He mirrored Vanadev in the most amazing ways, as he did Dantalion. He mused, often, how fate saw fit to bring them together...but this wasn’t the time for musing, as he felt Dantalion’s knees buckling violently. All it took was a few steps, and he’d bent him over their bed with zero effort at all.

With his shirt up and off, discarded easily, he pressed kisses to his spine. He, too, remembered each place to avoid. Not here...there. Especially there, he reminded himself. Dragging his tongue up a safe patch of skin, he puffed air against it.

A glance up, and he made sure to tilt the man’s chin for him.

Vanadev’s rhythm was merciless--effortless--and with such a good view, it was easy to see that he was no wilting flower at all, as he portrayed himself. Years, years, years of training, and ‘Vine King’ would suddenly make sense. Spurred on by Galuré’s hitched breathing and rapid-fire demands, this was most certainly his strength.

“Watch...watch...” Tirumala whispered against Dantalion’s ear in a voice even more raspy than normal.

A welcome distraction for the cool, wet fingers pressing him open, no doubt. One, two, stretching, crooking wickedly to get a hell of a rise out of him.

Please, please, please, please...

The words flowed from Galuré’s lips, and it wasn’t hard at all for both Dantalion and Tirumala to read them.

Peering over his shoulder, Vanadev smirked, wildly...and turned on heel. The view was no doubt that much more enjoyable now, with one of his hands pushing on the swell of Galuré’s ass--just for Dantalion.

“Look,” the Imperial whispered, breathlessly, arching his hips, bouncing the body atop them in one flawless movement. “Beautiful, isn’t it...? You’re so lucky, having this all to yourself, my sweet...”

Moooore...

A faint, plaintive-sounding whimper from Galuré.

“But so greedy...but that’s alright, isn’t it, Galuré? My sweet, my dove...we’ll fill you up, I promise you that...”

Dantalion gasped as the pace quickened, and as the unmistakable feel of something warm pressed to him.

“We both will.”

Tirumala gasped as he moved, but even more so as he was met half-way with a playful buck.

Vanadev was fond of a certain word...ah, what was it...?

Bliss.

Yes, there it was...

Even as Galuré dug his heels frantically into his thighs, even as they scraped and bruised the skin--that sweet bliss was obvious.

Green and red never left that sight, a performance not to be missed, even as their own began.

-------------------------------------------------------- 

“Now, what in the world are you doing with that?” the very-satisfied Galuré laughed, snuggling his cheek into one of the bed’s oh-so-fluffy pillows.

Vanadev, brandishing a black marker he used for alterations, tweaked an eyebrow in delight. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not permanent.”

Sprawling across his thighs to prevent him kicking, he scrawled one letter at a time. V-a-n-a-d-e-v. Underlined. Twice. Oop, don’t forget the heart, he thought. Smiling, pleased with his work, he leaned back to fiddle with the lace of Galuré’s boot. “Beautiful.”

Tirumala laughed from beside them, holding Dantalion close to his neck as he rested--still panting.

“Now, you should have Valeraine just...tattoo over it.”

“I will do no such thing...” came the inevitable pouty huff that Vanadev loved so much. “But...I like this,” he conceded, wriggling his backside for emphasis.

“Can I write my name, too?” Dantalion’s voice perked up, muffled against Tirumala.

“Can we not write anything else on my ass? Please?”

Tirumala finally laughed, covering his eyes with his arm.

Vanadev smiled, laying his head down on top of his mate’s leg. Now, that...that was worth the entire effort. Such a rare, beautiful sound.

Ah...uhm. I brought your food?

Came more of a question, than a statement, from behind their closed (and thankfully very--very locked) door.

“Leave it, Cahir, darling! Thank you so much!” Vanadev called, ducking in for a sneak-attack kiss to his handiwork. Galuré, yipping in surprise, wriggled.

Standing, stretching, the Tavern’s bartender glanced over his shoulder. Galuré was wiggling to cling to Dantalion, who twisted to have him tuck under his arm. Tirumala, catching his eye, offered his own special brand of smile--just for him.

I love them, he thought to himself, rather easily. So much. Amazing, how so much changes...

And this time, finally, it was for the better.

[human-antithesis]

Lyrics:

Culmination With fire in my feet I dance for you Succumb to the heat Tiptoe on dying embers Onto the rhythm of our tragedy A round of applause As they witness our screams vaporize Watch my last breath dissolve In the night Take a bow for the lost Darling, our sun is burning out This is the last time

[tsunagite]

Rhythm gayming miscellaneous stuff

[tsunagite]

Dantalion doodle

[tsunagite]

After 2 months of deciding to take Arcaea more seriously and getting my ass beat repeatedly… LV 11 potential! At least, I think that’s good? I tend to not rlly pay attention to potential ^^’

Tho, uh. I didn’t think that getting Dantalion B rank easy clear would be the thing that gets me to it LMAOO

[tsunagite]

Miscellaneous

I’ve been playing Orzmic lately .<.

[tsunagite]

Oops all Tairitsu

[tsunagite]

Miscellaneous, but oops all Arcaea (technically)

[2dkapsddr]

July 31st, 2024 - Arcaea, IIDX 31

taking it rather easy for today, as i really wanted to get more progress done on my journal instead of rhythm gaming... but!!! as part of wasting stamina, i got this insane EX+ upscore on Dantalion [FTR-10+], propelling my PTT to 12.49 and leaving just one more big play before the shiny 2-star 12.50...!

later that day though, i heard the news that RABBIT HOLE of all things was getting added to beatmania IIDX?!?! why this is happening, i have no idea, but it made for an extremely funny and quick visit to the arcade as i had to deliver a package to a friend there!! i may or may not have fallen asleep on the bus for a bit, but i woke up in time to enter the Round 1 and play two sets of IIDX -- enough to get these two really funny H-clears on Rabbit Hole (random and non-random included!)