ROT & RAGE

"a little dove is naive and beautiful The way innocent things are beautiful; Entirely unaware of the horrors the world holds"

[dltoh]

                                   I ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʀᴇss, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍᴄʜᴀɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜʀ TV;             ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ Tᴀʟᴋ sʜᴏᴡ ʜᴏsᴛ, ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜɪɴɢ “ʙᴀʙʏ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ”

                                              Semi-Indie Dito; of Drakengard 3                             Crossover, Original Character, and Multimuse friendly                                               Semi-Sel | Single Verse | Multiship                                                               18+ Only                                                       READ THE RULES

                      I ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏɴ sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏꜰꜰ, ʀᴏʙᴏᴛɪᴄ                                                I ʟᴏsᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ.

[dltoh]

{{ I’m back here too, I know I didn’t post about it much but essentially; Big cross country move, lot of stuff, yadda yadda. Like this for a starter! }}

[dltoh]

prototype-two‌:

“Do I need to repeat myself? I’m data, an archive.” she huffs, it’s quiet, really barely there, “I was at one point, not anymore.”

One would think it would hurt more, or at all, to be called not-real. It’s the opposite for her, actually one of the only positive things about this interaction so far, no song and dance surrounding her own ‘humanity’, no arguments about being that she has to shrug away - this kid is a bastard but he gets it, and she finds herself grateful for it.

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     “I heard you the first time lady, jeez.” His eyes roll, he gets it, this place isn’t real. 

“Data? Probably not. Even if there was, I wouldn’t be caught dead sitting down to rifle through all that bullshit, not my fucking job.”

Same world?

“Yeah, probably not, all kinds of holes opening up where I’m from. I was avoiding ‘em but eventually I decided even if jumping into one killed me it was better than listening to my idiot teammate back at camp drone on about the exact length of his wrinkled old dick” his eyes roll again, forcefully this time.

“Let’s just say being in this boring scrapheap his miles better than being within cumshot distance of Octa”

Her words make him scoff.

    “Two eh? Already know a Two, guess you can have that name now though, chick’s dead as a brick now. Kinda funny, you share a name with her sister too.”

His arms raise in a stretch, lips parting to yawn, and when his arms come down again he folds his arms behind his head casually. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, I can’t stand that shit, may as well drop the pretense, I’m hardly a joy to anyone.” he makes a face of disgust, “Uhg, actually I don’t want to think about the last person to call me anything like a joy.” five...

His arms drop, hands resting on his hips now.

“Either way, guess I’ll just keep you company for a while, since I’m such a pleasure to be around”

[dltoh]

prototype-two‌:

His little revelation does nothing to phase No.2, while that information could be minor leverage in situations like this it was only a matter of time before it came to light. She’d have to clarify it at some point in the conversation no matter what. She was focused on the other things he chattered about - disciples, intoners - it didn’t make any sense. A note is made to sift through archives later, see if maybe there’s something in her memory logs that’s just being overlooked, but not right now.

It takes physical restraint to not agree with him on the headache comment.

I really wish you weren’t ‘bones and shit’. How to approach this…

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     Well if she isn’t one of Zero’s sisters, he doesn’t have much reason to go out of his way to be violent, much as part of him wants to. She looks just enough like Zero that part of him wants to pick her apart, tenderly, to lovingly mutilate that pretty thing. Shockingly perhaps, he keeps those thoughts to himself, mostly because in his own way, they would make him seem way too touchy feely.

“So you really aren’t real, huh?”

He shrugs, it’s high and dramatic. “I can leave whenever I want, just not quite bored enough to be willing to.”

Actually this is great, it’s quiet here, she seems to be the only ‘person’ around, this is the perfect place to hide from Octa and Cent when he can’t stand listening to them anymore. It’s perfect!

“I think I’m just gonna hang here for a while actually.” he looks almost forlornly at the medical room he’d been about to ransack. “Wonder if I can even take this shit out of here” he sighs, “Whatever, guess we can just keep rippin’ pieces off Decadus’ clothes when we get beat to shit. Not like he minds.”

It really is a shame though, he would never, ever, under penalty of fucking death and torture say it, but part of him had been excited to be the big hero who dragged back actual real medical supplies, bandages and antiseptic. Sure, Z was a walking talking corpse at best, but Cent and Decadus well.

They were still warm, for lack of a better word.

     Not that he gives a shit if they keel over from infection after a fight or anything, it’d just suck to see Zero upset, that’s all, they can rot for all he cares, in fact, he hopes they do. Fuck ‘em. 

He realizes suddenly that his expression has slipped, relaxed, thoughtful, almost melancholy, and to make up for it he immediately sneers at the girl in front of him. 

“You got a name? If not I’ll just call you whatever pops into my head first” he looks gleeful, a child with a gift. “And I already have a short list of ideas, you’re in luck!” he stands up almost straight for a moment to sheath his weapon. He doubts she’s going to come after him now.

“As for me, I’m Dito, I’m sure you’re just thrilled to be spending time with me, don’t deny it, your face says it all”

She does not look thrilled to spend time with him.

[dltoh]

{{ Starter call: Like this post }}

[dltoh]

 I ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʀᴇss, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍᴄʜᴀɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜʀ TV;                   ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ Tᴀʟᴋ sʜᴏᴡ ʜᴏsᴛ, ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜɪɴɢ “ʙᴀʙʏ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ”

                                              Semi-Indie Dito; of Drakengard 3                             Crossover, Original Character, and Multimuse friendly                                               Semi-Sel | Single Verse | Multiship                                                               18+ Only                                                       READ THE RULES

         I ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏɴ sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏꜰꜰ, ʀᴏʙᴏᴛɪᴄ                                                                                          I ʟᴏsᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ.

[dltoh]

prototype-two‌:

She isn’t sure what she expected. There was a tiny thought in the back of her head, just a little spark of a warning when she saw how tall he was, saw the sword, saw the way his eyes lit up like stars even under the cold, clinical, space station lights. It had tried to give her a leg up, to prepare her, and she had ignored that little voice, told herself it was a stupid and baseless thought.

This is a bastard.

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     Oh he is indeed Bastard.

Her reaction leaves him grinning like a cheshire cat. “You’re not my intoner, like hell I’m gonna listen to some random bitch just because she thinks it’s cute to throw orders around.” he laughs, it’s actually genuinely amused, he kinda digs this chick, or at least how it seems she won’t be easily cowed by his threats.

“Why wouldn’t I answer you? That’d be boring, like I said, I’m here because the shithead back at my campsite won’t shut up, if I didn’t want to talk, I’d just leave.” he laughs again, it’s far too light and warm for his words. Now he’s just having fun, or as close as he can have to it anyway.

     “The hell? An android?” he arches a brow, “That what you are?” he’s clever after all, why would she assume him an android unless those were common? More common than humans? There’s only two options: She’s human and androids are a threat, or she’s an android or something like it and assumes him the same.

“anyway, I already told you, I’m a person.” his eyes roll. “I’m a disciple, I serve my Intoner” his head hangs against his weapon for a moment and he groans.  “Uhg, this shit is givin’ me a headache. I may be doomed to a life of servitude, but I’m still a person, yanno? Bag of meat and organs and bones and shit.” he exhales in a sort of ‘pffff’ sound, arms draped lazily over his spear, like he’s doing her the most inconvenient favor ever by answering her.

“Person? People? Human?” his expression, still turned on her, is flat. “I mean I’m human for all intents and purposes, just happen to be a little more magical than most of the assholes you find wandering around like wide eyed cows toddling into a slaughterhouse.” he looks at a gloved hand, as if he can idly inspect his nails through the supple leather. 

“Now what are you? You kinda remind me of my intoner if she decided to lop all her hair off and pretended to be a dumbass. Nooot entirely sure I like it. Kinda freakin’ me out honestly.” he stands up a little straighter again.

     “You ain’t one of Z’s freaky sisters she neglected to fill me in about, are you?”

He almost sounds excited, like part of him hopes she is if only because he can just imagine how pleased she would be if he dragged one of her siblings’ corpses back to camp for her. Good boy. Good Dito. Maybe he’d get a reward, maybe he’d lop Octa’s dick off without repercussion.

[tinyghosthands]

Today’s show is brought to you by the Dove Campaign for Real Beauty. Super-real beauty. Beauty so real you won’t even recognize it as your own. Like a set of human lungs, on a white table. So real, so beautiful. Most people have lungs, expanding, contracting, attached to nothing. Just lungs. On a white table. Most beauty products won’t show you what a set of human lungs look like, because they think you can’t handle real beauty. They will photoshop out the models’ lungs, leaving a gaping gory hole in their chests. But an empty upper-rib cavity is not what a real person looks like. No. We look like this. A pair of lungs breathing autonomously on a white table in a white room with music playing. Inspirational music. Mostly choir and keyboards, you know the drill. Don’t gotta tell you about inspirational music, am I right? Dove. Lungs on a white table.

from Welcome to Night Vale, ep. 84: “Past Time” (via mahjling)

[dltoh]

prototype-two‌:

Some days were easier than others. This was not one of the easy days, this wasn’t even close to cutting it as a normal day. She had ‘fallen asleep’, accidentally idled too long and allowed her data to flick into a dormant state to allow for things like defragmentation and system updates. It couldn’t be pushed back indefinitely but she had gotten good enough at it that it was hard to tell the difference. When she had first started it could only be delayed for a couple of logs, and then a few more, and a few more until…

Well, this round she had simply stopped counting after a few months.

It had it’s drawbacks - reaction times would suffer, some memory leaks would get worse, but it only ever really ate at her active personal data - the majority of the memories left went unharmed by it, she had separated 'herself’ from those very well.  It was annoying, but far better than the other option, slipping into 'sleep’ put the archives in the hands of her background processes.

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     The woman, girl really, who comes striding, armed, down the hall towards him throws him off for a moment. Her silver hair, the colour of her eyes. It tears him in two ways: Relax, or lash out? And the tearing only makes him pissier. As if anything in the world that reminds him of her but is not her is offensive just for existing.

Her weapon is raised, so he draws his own in return, it’s comforting in his hand, and he lets himself fall into the ease of a defensive sort of stance, ready to decide if he needs to retreat or if he can get away with tearing her to pieces should a fight break out.

     What does he want? “Dunno. To not have to listen to the bastard back at camp talk about his rod?” he tilts his weapon to tap it lazily against one of the walls. “Even this boring shithole is better than listening to him talk” his weapon meets the ground so he can lean upon it lazily, it’s deceptive, he’s still every bit in a position to throw it up in attack or defense.

What are you?

“What are you?” he asks in return, “Stupid?” his lips curl up into a catty, holier-than-thou smile. “I’m a person, obviously.” eyes like liquid starlight roll in a way decidedly not beautiful. “Well at least in theory, anyway” it’s murmured, the tone is exhausted. Annoyed at absolute best.

His eyes flutter over her briefly, from head to toe, taking her in, how she holds her shoulders, how she holds her sword. Her stance. He waves a hand, the one not lazily draped over his spear, it’s almost catlike the way he embraces the thing, like a leopard on a branch.

     “Listen lady, I can tell just from looking at the shit way you’re standing right now that if you come at me, I’m gonna gut you.” his smile doesn’t falter, eyes narrowing just a touch, gilded bright beneath the dark of his eyelashes. “No skin off my back, I encourage it even” those eyes flutter to look at the boring walls, the boring floor, and back to her.

“Place could use a pick me up, bet it’d look reeeal nice painted red. So unless you’re up for letting me hang your intestines from these walls, I’d put the toy down and stop threatening me” he laughs it is not a friendly laugh. “Hey, or don’t, not like I’m getting any after Octa’s run his mouth at Z for the next hour, I’d be just as happy to entertain myself pulling you inside out”

His eyes brighten suddenly.

“But hey, I guess this is where that airhead would tell me to mind my manners in front of a lady” he straightens out, weighs his spear in his hand again, obviously he’s not taking this seriously anymore--mostly, he’s ready if she does actually come at him. 

“So, I’ll be a gentleman and ask what the hell you are in return. For real this time.”

[dltoh]

@prototype-two​ liked for a starter!

                                                   ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    📁    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

When they had first opened up, he’d insisted he wasn’t going into those goddamn holes.  But one thing had led to another, Octa had said something, and he had wordlessly risen from his place beside the campfire and left. Zero had looked at him as if begging him to save her, but there was nothing to be done, every Intoner and Disciple for themselves.

The woods are dark, but his eyesight is exceedingly sharp, and he isn’t quite human. Which isn’t to say he has any real form of night vision, but it does seem to give him somewhat of an edge. Otherwise he simply treads carefully, picking his way among the trees comfortably. If he were going to settle in any one place, the land of forests would be it. He likes the trees, he likes the abundance of food, he likes how cool it stays, instinctively, he likes it here. 

There is a soft sound, between shattering glass and the chime of bells, and one of those odd gaps in reality falls into being somewhere ahead of him and to his left. The soft light it gives off draws him closer, it’s a very pale light, a gentle white. In a way it reminds him of his intoner. Her hair in his fingers.

Maybe that’s why he gives in to the urge to slip through it, he’s proven them safe before, so he has few qualms about it now. 

The place in which he emerges is totally foreign to him, the walls are clean and white, there is a faint scent of electricity here, like the ozone just before a storm. For some reason, it disconcerts him slightly. Mostly because there’s nowhere he can see to duck behind if something threatening appears. And the close quarters in the hall mean his usual combat style will be difficult. Maybe he should go back?

     There’s a muffled sound from the door next to him, and an intense heat. It makes him curse loudly, hands waving at the sudden plumes of smoke, he immediately goes skittering further down the hall, nose wrinkled, hacking at the scent, well, his portal home was back there so he supposes he’s just fucked for now, lovely. 

“Fucking figures” his voice is an annoyed grumble more than anything as he turns once more to make his way hesitantly down the hall. What’s this? One of the doors opens, medical supplies? Maybe he’ll raid that, can never have enough of that. He’s just debating ransacking it when the distant sound of footfalls reaches him and he turns down the hall to face it, a hand resting warily upon the weapon at his hip, fingertips brushing very softly over the head of the stuffed animal hanging there. Reassuring.

[dltoh]

@floweredchurch​ liked for a starter!

                                    ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    🕊️    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Well I’m sure as shit not touching it.

That had been the first thing he’d said when those...holes, began opening up.  Accord had described them as gaps in reality, little tears where their universe was beginning to leak into others. She’d said a lot of other crap too but he had dubbed it unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Octa had said something lewd, Cent had said something stupid, and Decadus, well, the other Intoner had simply nodded and pondered along. He likes that about Decadus, usually he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

But all of that had happened a while ago now, and the holes showed no signs of going away. Curiosity killed the cat, but no one ever said anything about doves. So here he was circling around one of the odd plumes of inter-dimensional magical interference. The first thing he’d done was pop a stick through it to make sure he wasn’t going to simply end up torn to shreds, but he’d pulled the branch back and it had been fine so he’d moved on to a finger he was willing to lose, and then his hand, then the whole arm, until finally he’d simply stepped through bodily into the world on the other side.

As far as he’s concerned, it beats sitting around back at camp and listening to the other Disciples and that idiot dragon talk about something inane. Or rather, he was avoiding having to do work, like he has time to scour the woods for food when everyone else always tries to bring back garbage, let them learn to do a decent job, he’s done covering for them.

That said, this place doesn’t look terribly different from the one he just left.  Yup, still in the land of forests, what a waste of time. His head hangs for a moment, he feels like top dumbass at the moment, which is impressive, because he knows a few people who usually rank well above him in that regard.

     There is a sound of footsteps behind him, and he tenses fully, spear drawn swiftly from its place hanging at his hip. He moves with a dancer’s grace, turning on a dime to face the source of the sound, weapon readied in defense rather than offense he would hate to be struck down simply for being overly aggressive.

Zero would be displeased if he didn’t come back after all.

[singofruin]

𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕓𝕖 𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕕, 𝕠𝕙 𝕘𝕠𝕕                              𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀'𝕞 𝕒 𝕘𝕦𝕟 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥                             Semi-indie Zero of Drakengard/DoD                          Oc, Multi-muse, and Crossover friendly!                                  Semi-Selective, 18+ Only                                       READ THE RULES                          𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕟 𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙, 𝕣𝕒𝕨 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕥                                                         𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕤

[dltoh]

@singofruin liked for a starter!

                                      ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    💖    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

What does he know of Magic?  As far as he’s concerned, the...Anomalies of this...Branch? That Accord had used to explain the odd little flares in magic that allowed moving from one universe to another are just a pain in the ass, which is why, for now, he’s avoiding them. Pointedly so, as if perhaps they have a mind of their own and he can somehow insult them with his seeming indifference. Like a cat pretending it doesn’t care about what treats are in the bag the kind old lady next door is shaking.

He isn’t sure where Decadus ran off to, or Cent. He isn’t sure where Octa went either, but he decidedly doesn’t care about the last one. For all Dito knows, he’s gotten his dick stuck in one of those strange tears in the universe, part of him hopes so, that would be hilarious. 

It’s still early enough in the evening that the sunset’s fingers are curled over the horizon in mingling shades of pink and gold. He likes this time of day, he likes that palette. It’s soft, it’s beautiful. He likes beautiful things.

It reminds him of spilled fat, it reminds him of the fresh lining of someone’s belly pulled from abdomen into air. He likes that too.

Despite the lingering light there’s a fire going, and he tosses a handful of grass into it just to watch it burn. Here in the land of forests, it’s lush enough that it mostly just makes the fire pop and sizzle, not as satisfying as it could be.

     The fire turns his eyes bright; less molten gold, more molten glass. If he could see them, he would probably want to tear them out, but he can’t, so he doesn’t. Instead, he’s watching her from across the fire, just her and him. Mikhail had toddled off into the woods with the promise to bring back food, though knowing Zero’s dipshit dragon he’ll be shocked if he comes back with anything more edible than a week old carcass and a funny rock he wants to show the intoner.

Part of him debates going to gather up an armful of mushrooms from the woods, someone has to take care of this bunch of idiots. But then, he decides it isn’t going to be him, not tonight, the promise of food doesn’t quite outweigh his desire to not drag his ass through the woods for nothing worthwhile in the way of thanks. 

“How long until Octa loses his cock in one of those gaps in reality?” he speaks after an aching length of silence. “I’m thinking of starting a betting pool.”

He throws another fistfull of grass into the fire.

[dltoh]

{{ Like this for a starter! May get done tonight, may get done tomorrow, depending. }}

[dltoh]

          I ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʀᴇss, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍᴄʜᴀɪʀ, ʏᴏᴜʀ TV;                    ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ Tᴀʟᴋ sʜᴏᴡ ʜᴏsᴛ, ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜɪɴɢ "ʙᴀʙʏ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀꜰᴜʟ"  

                                               Semi-Indie Dito; of Drakengard 3                              Crossover, Original Character, and Multimuse friendly                                                Semi-Sel | Single Verse | Multiship                                                                18+ Only                                                        READ THE RULES

          I ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏɴ sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴏꜰꜰ, ʀᴏʙᴏᴛɪᴄ                                                                                           I ʟᴏsᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏsᴇʟꜰ.