#stories to write files

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Headcanon - Vox assumes he can 'fix' Alastor.

This was the original concept for 'Bad Connection' but I went a different way with that when I started typing it.

This is the sort of note I leave myself about a fic idea, so some bits are a bit janky because I'm, well, me.

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Find out the reason V and A only fight via broadcasts is not wanting to be close to V.

In past, Vox tried to convince Alastor to love him with his power, using his cables and eye.

“Don’t worry, I can fix this… fix you. I can make you love me, like I know you want me to…”

Maybe a ‘realise how you fucked up’ story.

Maybe they fight so violently Valentino is the only reason Vox lived because he intervened. Forging a bond that could never be broken.

When they fight after his absence… Valentino and Velvette are there to stand behind the television. A three on one rumble that tests the bounds of Alastor's diminished powers.

Angel’s chain shatters at the same time Husk's starts to fade out, completely, stuttering back like the dying gasps of someone on death's door. They run out to find out what's happening and that's when they see the clash not far away, etc.

Husk overlord comes flooding back with each stutter of the chain.

------------------ Fleshing out concept: Vox has never been denied, since he took his fate in his own hands and rose up the ranks of the media conglomerate in life, from a shitty childhood with dirt for dinner and playtime etc. 

To arrive in hell and fall at the feet of something just as mystifyingly alien as Alastor, whose interest was piqued by the strange signal he was projecting, it felt like FATE. After the horror of realising he was a fucking television robot thing now with somehow both more and less biology than he'd ever had before... because he’d loved his human face, like, a lot. It’d been his brand, his guarantee. 

The reason people tuned into his station at night. He could have bought shares in hairspray from the way his hair had been slick, shiny and strong enough to use as a battering ram in emergencies. Women had fawned for him, men had made the covert passes they could in those days. He'd been DESIRED.

And here? He was a Thing. A fascination, but not in the way he used to be.

Vox is an amusement to the Radio Demon; who was already midway through murdering other overlords, and he offers a small deal to bind them together. A smidgeon of power for the other to help him hone his abilities; Alastor can sense something significant in the other sinner, and the amusement of being the one guiding it delights him. In return, Vox simply needs to wear Alastor’s sigil, keep him close by to do some dirty work. Perhaps he even tries sinner flesh or something, and it's honestly not all that bad. Not the way Al and Rosie cook it, at least.

The hypnosis remains a fascinating little toy that Alastor enjoys seeing him use on the more stubborn miscreants. Not for deals, of course, mostly for clean up… for the occasional punishment too. It only lasts about 30 seconds, most of the time, but Vox is working on building up the skill.

[Connect to Rosie in there somehow. ]

Perhaps Vox is a backup to Niffty (who appears around then and just about shoves her soul into Alastor's hands for reasons Vox never really understood) in a fight, and gets unexpectedly blasted by an overlord with radioactive abilities, which fragment his electronics and damage components in both media based demons.

While the threat is then forced into a broadcast by Alastor, it's a tad late… Vox is just about annihilated, a sparking mess that is almost too fragmented to even regenerate. So Alastor portals them to Rosie’s, whose blood magic has the ability to fix just about any little issue. She’s a bit confused given the mixed biology and circuitry, but Niffty’s from the 50s/ish and recalls how to fix the television her husband had bought… and is able to reconnect a few things. He remains flat, energy-wise, until his overlord shares a little boost of power down the chain, to snap him awake. Something about that day completely changes his view on the radio demon, and his heart (the oddly organic little thing in a metallic form) decides that his focus will be on one person from now on. However, his initial overtures are turned down with amusement. People say the darndest things after a near-second-death experience after all.

He tries to win the favour of Alastor with gifts and acts of service; from a cannibal flower bouquet, to the hearts of a dozen different sinners marinated in different seasonings… and while Alastor does truly enjoy the man’s attention and presence, it is clear what Vox is angling for. Unfortunately, that was not something he was willing or able to give, if he could at all.

Rosie clearly works it out before Alastor and tries to ward Vox off, but it's not working. Finally, Vox breaks his chains by ceasing to be amusing as his own amassed power grows rival to his overlord’s. There's a shift in Pride that day, you could sense when someone hit Sovereign status in the same way your previously damaged bones could twinge when the barometric pressure shifts.

Alastor tries to congratulate the other, delighted to finally have an opponent worthy of him, but Vox misreads it and goes for a kiss.

The screech of static should have been a warning, but he ignores it, mind full of euphoria as he pins the other to the wall with his body, heart thundering so loud he’s not paying attention to the signals he’s being given. [etc]

Then he is shoved back, Alastor’s expression a snarl, reasserting personal space rapidly with his eldritch appendages. “Enough of this japery, I have put up with your shenanigans, podcast… I will allow you to consider this a jest out of excitement, and nothing more.”

“Please, Al… why can’t you just fucking say you love me too? Can’t you see how much I care about you? We’re literally made for each other, audio and visual, our signals have been twinned since the day I arrived in this shitshow!” The disbelief, the utter soul crushing moment of his dreams burning down around him seemed to unhinge the Television. No one has ever turned him down before? What the fuck was this? Didn't Al see ho desperately he loved the idiot, how he'd practically grovelled at his feet?

He grows furious, lashing out with cables; power new to him and violent in its birth. Wildly out of control and a nightmare to behold.

Electricity crackles, pinning and pushing the other back against the wall once more, as Vox’s form writhes and distorts. Shifting back and forth in confusion as the new form asserts itself as something brimming with power and bare-knuckled control…

That’s the secret of Overlords, the larger you are, the less in control, especially to start with. It’s why they usually only brought out their oversized bestial forms as needed, preferring the smaller amalgamations.

Either Way, he’s knocking down the warehouse they’re in. Their opponents are long double-dead, but this… this was putting both of them at risk. With a tap of the cane, a portal opens below, tendrils snaking up to restrain, but surges of electricity pulse back, unconstrained, and dissipate them.

The feedback is like a microphone turned against itself, and the sudden shrilling seems to reach whatever is left of Vox in that giant form. 

He instinctively grabbed for the streak of red, only to see it try to expand in his grasp, fighting electrocution and writhing to be free. Shadows banished beyond the circle of light emitted by the other. 

Vox pulls back on his power, reigning it back frantically as he sees blood starting to drip from the other’s strained smile, his dial eyes.

“Fuck, Al, I didn’t me334aan to…” he booms, vocal subroutines distorted as his form loses size. The electricity being reeled back in like a fisherman hauling in a giant squid, all unconstrained anger, (find better metaphor). 

“Qu-...ite alri-ri-right my good man!” Alastor chirps, voice flickering through different channels and static, something he doesn’t normally do unless his control is on the fritz. “Yoooouuu were just-just-just in high spiriiiits from your ele-VA-tion!” 

Something about the casualness seems to pull Vox back to himself, tethering him to the smaller everyday form. Alastor lolled in his arms for a moment more before shoving away, pushing upright on limbs that still felt the phantom waves shocking his muscles; brushing down his suit in a show of indifference. Of silent forgiveness, because they were friends.

“I say, Picture Box, that was quite the show. How are you feeling after all of that?” 

“How can you be so calm after I fucking attacked you?” his tone like a bleeding wound, raw and agitated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-... it just happened!”

“Vox, take a deep breath and settle yourself.” Alastor warns. “You will find that your new abilities are linked quite closely with your emotions, and it would not do to make such a fuss in public… not before your official debut, of course. We shall have to plan that at once, can't let Zestial's people get a scoop and plaster you across the media before we get a chance to control the narrative, can we?” 

“Al-...” his voice is a whining thing, and his screen flushes at sudden memories of the same tone being used against parents he felt were punishing him unfairly.

“Say no more, it is all under the bridge, dear Vox. Think nothing of it. Why, when I transformed the first time, Rosie herself had to contain me from eating half of Pentagram City!” hysterical laughter intertwined with that of a studio audience, chilling and delightful to experience. 

Something about it twists Vox’s heart the wrong way, and his expression darkens, glitching. “Stop laughing, you fucker! I bared my whole goddamn heart and soul to you, and you’re pretending nothing happened? That it means nothing to you? Are you serious?”

A hand touches the corner of his screen, claws careful not to cause damage; settling the other through shock alone. His brain already encoding the size, the warmth, the shape and weigh of it for him.

“Vox… you are dear to me, naturally, as is Niffty. And while my regard for you is high, you know I am not… like others. Not like you. The love you seek might be buried somewhere in my dead heart, but there would be nothing more to be gained even if you toiled centuries to find it. Best to put your best foot forwards and find someone of equal measure to you, for I cannot and will not be that demon.”

As his heart breaks, a twisted form of hope wedges itself between the shattered edges.

The power surges, even as his mind connects the worst possible idea with his newfound abilities. He Cannot? He CAN’T!

Of course, he just couldn’t do it because something wasn’t right in his head. It all seems so simple! Why Vox'd done it before… maybe not to this scale but, surely… he could do it now? 

And Alastor… he’d thank him, afterwards. Of course he would. 

The demon didn’t know he was broken, but it would make sense after! Right?

Cables surge from the ground once more, wrapping about the deer’s arms, his legs, his throat. Forcing him off the ground and enmeshed in their sparking web, expression between shock and fury, the infamous demonic form surging forth and constrained only by the explosive electricity Vox unleashes directly at the other Sovereign Overlord. 

He’s not going to hurt him… not really, he just can’t have Alastor freeing himself or rampaging right now. 

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay Al. I get it now!” He smiles gently, moving closer and feeling a pulse behind his screen as the power surged anew.

He takes the other’s face in his hands, mind whirring manically and bypassing the sudden fear that tightens Alastor’s grin. His thumbs soothe over the taut cheekbones, trying to encompass his love in the gesture. “Don’t worry, I-... I can fix this, now… fix you. I can make you love me, like I know you want me to… and we can be happy together.”

His eye starts to swirl of its own volition, met with the rage-filled radio dials as Alastor squirmed, trying to bite at the caging hands that held him fast. With a hum of displeasure, Vox instructed the cables to tighten, the voltage to raise just a fraction to ensure compliance… and allowed the desperate adoration in his heart to spill from his eye. The hypnotic ability had always felt like sending out a  warm ray of suggestion towards his target, but this… this was like an inferno spilling out uncontrollably.

His mind trying desperately to slide into Alastor’s own, burrowing deep through those lovely eyes that slowly faded to a dazed red. A faint trace of swirling power echoing in the overlord’s eyes. Something was resisting fiercely, but… it also sensed a trace of Alastor’s power in the other’s magic signature, and so… fell back. 

“Yes, that’s it, just let me in… you can trust me. I know what’s best for us, I can make us work. Deep breaths, and listen to me…” Vox cooed, gentle now that the fight had subsumed the other. He chased the spark of shared power into the other’s mind, his core, etc. 

To have gotten this far was overwhelming. Where to start? Which part of the other sinner would be the best place to start repairing, so that he’d finally be capable of accepting Vox’s love?

Shit, perhaps he should have practiced on someone less important first. He didn’t want to hurt Al, his Al…

With a flick of his hand, the cables placed the other on the ground, gently, and receded. There was no flicker of response as Vox crouched over the other, holding the other’s chin in place carefully, other hand languidly stroking the soft red hair he always wanted to touch. 

“I love you so much, and I know you know that, sort of. But don’t worry, I’m going to fix you so you can love me back, okay Al? We’re going to be fucking magnificent together, and you’ll forgive me for this when you can see it was supposed to happen. This is why we met, and you helped me get my footing as an Overlord, so I can make you whole… and we can rule Hell together, right?”

[fix dialogue of scene]

That sentence seemed to cause a flicker of resistance that grew sharper every passing second, until Alastor was able to force the other out of his mind. The backlash hurling the pair away from one another as if physically struck apart. 

Mind reeling, Alastor pushes himself off the ground, feeling like his whole being had been tampered with and yet… it was all so distant. So fuzzy. Disgusting.

And all his fractured thoughts could focus on was the sickeningly sour taste of betrayal as he stared at Vox.

There was genuine hurt fuelling the rage… but, it was overwhelmed by the sudden revulsion within. To think he’d trusted the other, even begun to suffer through the indignities of what he's realtively sure were feelings for the picture box… and for what?

To be considered broken?

A toy to be repaired and made to pander to the whims of the other?

To be made into something of Vox's desire, a puppet who would always smile and say yes without heed to his actual feelings or whims? An animated little love toy that would bend and break and moan and praise the picture box no matter how mediocre his carnality or how Alastor’s mind would be begging for it to cease? Disgusting.

Beyond loathesome. If they had been alive together, he would have taken his time peeling the flesh from Vox’s human face before sending him to Hell.

Vox feels shredded, the tatters of his power writhing like anemones in the ocean current. Trying to latch back on and finding nothing. Fuck… he’d-... what had he been doing? Something about Alastor… he felt angry, like he’d been betrayed.

Rejection curled heavily in his stomach and it made him sick. 

He was feeling oddly dizzy, far beyond what he normally experienced when disconnecting from an attempted connection to the grid or even a failed mesmerisation attempt. There’s a sugary sweet floral taste filling his mouth, countering the bile he can feel rising there.

They begin to yell at one another, too weakened to do anything more than retreat. 

The room was full of a thickening sickly sweet red smoke that twisted already vague thoughts into nothingness, leaving the television and deer with nothing but raw emotions. The smoke filling their minds, blanking out the little context that remains.

Niffty, her apron about her mouth and nose, gives Vox a piercing glare as she runs past to Alastor, and he drops the both into shadow with some prompting. Seemingly as dazed as Vox was. Fucker.

“Well, well, well… what have we here…?” comes the interested tone from the rafters, and a glitching, barely cognizant Vox notices a moth demon looking down. “Seems you threw your feelings after the wrong demon… that bitch ain’t able to feel love, my little light… but I can. The name’s Valentino… and I think you are going to be fun to play with, little picture box.”

“...Val… I like that.”

“Come along, Voxxy… let’s get you to my place. See if we can fix that screen of yours up.”

[Initial Vees joining together]

[Alastor disappears for several long years around this point. Part of his deal involves a stronger ward against hypnosis, but he’s never quite sure why he asked. Memories fuzzy from that night, but the constrictive fear that tightens his chest when he hears Vox's voice... infuriates him no end.]

Partial memories lead to the pair fighting, Vox’s obsession is rivalled by Alastor’s own, and they never recall when this started. Why. How. What… just that it felt like bile on the back of the tongue whenever the pair looked upon the other.

And then, Vox decides to throw down after the Extermination.

He knows this is too perfect, an injured Overlord he’s always wanted dead, and of course… Val will come along to cheer him on. Hell, Vox wants to see Alastor’s face as they knock him to the bottom of the pecking order. 

Val already called dibs on using whatever’s left in Angel Dust’s next movie, he’s thinking of calling it ‘Oh Deer, Time to Buck!’ or 'Radio Demon's Bam-been a Bad Boy!'

Vox kinda thinks it's dumb, but he loves Val, of course so…

They throw down, Vox and Al first. Then Val gets involved, latching on with his gaping maw and sharp envenomated teeth. Pumping his pheromones at both combatants to fan the flames of the fight, with property damage left and right. The few sinners dumb enough to stay and gawk are crushed, eviscerated or otherwise murdered.

Overlord forms fighting. [Describe in vivid detail]

And that’s when Alastor manages to pin Valentino with his eldritch tentacles, ignoring the ‘Ooh, yes deer daddy’ comment that makes him want to throw up the bystander he just ate. He rips the wings off the other and plunges a hand deep into that purple chest right between the bedazzled nipples (find better descriptors) to tear out his still-writhing heart.

At the hotel, Angel’s collar explodes, shocking the hell out of everyone present. Angel is shaking, tears in his eyes. Val was a fucked up nightmare but this… of course some part of him still kinda cared for the man he thought he knew once, but he was also terrified of this being some cruel trick. 

“What the fuck…” he whispers, hands trembling as Husk moves to comfort him. 

Niffty makes a strangled sound and falls out of a ceiling vent, as Husk pauses, ears going flat against his head as their collars appear, flickering violently and fading out. 

“Shit, that’s not good…” 

Charlie and Vaggie are there, trying to calm Angel down, but the urgency is heightened when they’re tossed to the floor by the ground tremor from a few streets away. Outside, they see that the combatants aren’t far off. 

Valentino’s corpse is shrinking, his blood drowning a few unsuspecting fools as the carcass dwindles. Vox and Alastor aren’t faring much better. Tendrils and cables everywhere, lightning, teeth, claws, and etc. 

Vox gains the upper hand, and slams the other to the ground, his eye spinning, a beam blaring down at the other and he continues to strike the deer’s head into the pavement.

The sounds he’s making aren’t words… its like frequencies that just miss the mark… but they're talking, it seems. Vox is also clawing at Alastor’s chest, tearing open the stitching there to weaken his opponent. 

“We have to stop them!”

“They’re fucking Overlords, Charlie, what do you want us to do?!” Angel gestures, emotionally conflicted at the joy he felt seeing Val’s body, but worried at what that meant for his future. 

“Ah fuck, well… I mean, he did kinda free my favourite patron, so…” Husk grumbled, hurling himself into the air towards the fight. 

“Wait, you can’t just-... oh shit, that’s so hot… did you know he could do that?”

Husk’s form expanded with power, the collar expanding to allow it, as his own overlord form appeared. He physically hurls Vox from Alastor and the computer slams through a number of buildings.

[Fight scene - flesh out. Pussy joke somewhere - 'Well, looks like your pussy can take quite the pounding, Al...' Which gets Vox set on green fire. 'Husker, hairball on his shoes, immediately!' 'Can't do that on command, Al...'] 

Charlie is about to intervene as Husk is blasted with electricity and thrown at the hotel, but Alastor catches him with tendrils outside the gates. It sets off a ward though, and Lucifer appears looking furious. Then confused. Then a little of both.

“Char-Char, my duckling, what the fuck-ling is happening here?” he asks, noting that the bartender is now like 20 foot taller than usual and the spider has about 3% blood in the rest of his body right now. 

“We’re not sure… Two of the Vees seemed to have attacked Alastor, and poof Angel was free because Al killed him we think, but whoosh Vox tried to use his eye to do something, and then Husk did… that… and now they’re fighting and I’m not sure how to stop it!” Charlie gushed, horrified.

Lucifer cracks his knuckles “Alright, let’s put these babies to bed before pentagram city is fucked.” With a flex of power he’s airborne and blasting two of the combatants back apart, Husk is spared only because he’s shrinking down outside the Hotel perimeter. “Alright, you two need to calm the fuck down before I have to fuck you.”

“UP! DAD, PLEASE FINISH THE SENTENCE!” Charlie calls up.

“Up! Yes, thank you sweetie!” Lucifer calls down. “Alright, enough squabbling, power down and come here…” 

There isn’t a choice. They get portalled to the hotel, shrinking in size rapidly. Its clear spite is the only thing keeping Alastor conscious, and Vox seems infuriated at having his prize taken away. 

“Must you bring… the picture box… to the hotel as well? I am certain… there is a junkyard… nearby he could be sold to… for parts.” 

“Oh fuck you, you old timey prick, as if you’re not like 50% outdated technology yourself. You fucking killed Val! He’s gonna be such a little bitch about it when he regenerates…”

“Perhaps… you should think twice… before ambushing someone… two on one, hmmm?” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a goddamn cold-hearted bitch and I wouldn’t have to!” 

“Alright, if you keep that up I’m putting you both in time out.” Lucifer adds.

Niffty is standing a foot from Vox and glaring, she has The Knife. He is suddenly aware that he has no friends here, and he’d just been the main reason their little ahole mascot was bleeding to death again. 

“H-heh, hey everyone, let’s just chalk this up to post-extermination enthusiasm, hmmm?”

“No. I think Vox isn’t a good Bad Boy anymore. He needs to be punished.” Niffty says, quietly.

“Vaggie, can you come here please? You’ve got first aid training and I’m not… sure how to help.” Charlie asks, eyeing off Alastor and Husk. The latter is mostly fine externally, with some charred fur here and there and angry welts on the skin. 

“Well… that’s new. How the hell did he manage to get you like thi-... wait, are those stitches? How long has this been here?”

“Nev-...nevermind… dear.” The tone flickers through radio channels to find the words, and it’s more haunting than the radio effect glitching, somehow. 

“Oh the hell we’re not talking about this later! Right now, I need to stop your dumb ass from bleeding out on the lawn…” 

“Dad, can you…?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yeah… ugh, I mean yeah but it’s That Guy. Do I have to…? Whoa, put those away, you know I can’t resist the puppy dog eyes!” He sighs. “Alright, bellhop, let’s fix this… and… ugh, maybe we can deal with whatever the fuck you two managed to do to your brains, it’s all foggy in there.”

“What?” / What?!

Perfunctory won’t-die-right-now healing, but the big wound will need more later on. Field dressed. As the golden red magic clears the last twisted vestiges of Val’s manipulative smoke and Vox’s thwarted psychic attack from their minds… Alastor immediately snarls and uses an eldritch tentacle to choke Vox.

“You little cretin, how dare you assume the right to alter-...”

“Me?! You’re the ungrateful bastard who wouldn’t let me fix yo-...” he hurls electricity back.

“There is nothing to fix you pompous, self-absorbed overblown-...”

“Oho yes there is, and if you’d be less of a bitch about it, I-...”

“Ooooookaaaaaaay, let’s settle down everyone and stop choking or pummelling the other. Okay? Okay. Can we just go inside and talk this out like rational adults?”

Two overlords glare at her, then immediately attempt to escape through shadow or electricity. The latter succeeds only because Lucifer’s closer to Alastor and can blast the man with divine light before he can shadow portal away. 

“Can we talk about this?”

Sighs. “I suppose you will not let it drop, but inside perhaps. It will be a moment or so before the media legion is set upon us.”

“Um, so I know ya probably didn’t do it for me but… can I hug ya? For killing Val?”

“I-... hmmm, I suppose it shouldn’t be too much of a burden to bear. Just this once.”

Angel just about snaps the man in half. Alastor raises a tentative hand to pat the other on the back. “There there. Husker, are you whole? Splendid. Do take your paramour somewhere to have an emotional crisis.”

“Got it boss.” 

Inside, couches, little discussion.

Anger and disgust at the revelation / recollection of the memory. 

Charlie, “Oh, that’s what Rosie meant by ‘ace in the hole’…”

“What?”

“It just means… uh…” leans in and whispers something. 

“Oh, is that all. Rosie is playing coy with terminology these days, hah!” 

“Wait, so if you’re Ace, that means you-...”

“Dad, no!”

“...don’t give a fuck?!”

“Ugh, that was such low-hanging fruit, dad…”

“Of course it was, Charlie-dear, it’s all he can reach.”

“Oh you FUCKER!”

“I think we just established that I very much am NOT that fucker, Sire.”

“Shit, Smiles has jokes now!” Angel hoots.

Etc.

Val dead, Alastor and Vox healing.

Lucifer realising how chaotic Hell is now. 

Charlie supportive to a horrifying degree. Angel actually surprisingly helpful and validating.

Alastor offers Niffty and Husk their freedom, Husk did not need to go above and beyond like that… Niffty turns it down, but Husk takes it. Once free, he’s like “So now you can’t trying to silence me when I talk about your little deal…”

Before A can explode, that gets attention, and [add part where they work out deal with, why, etc]. 

Something something something.

Maybe we add in the Cain angle for this one.

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

As the Original Murderer, he automatically gains at least partial ownership of any murderer’s soul, they don’t always know and it usually doesn’t impact deals overall, but when it comes to serial killers or those whose murders were especially vile… they belong to him before they even hit the pavement of Pentagram City.

Alastor found out, and tried to get out of it, but Cain decided that he simply liked the other’s attitude, and offered a tangible deal. He technically owned the other’s soul outright so… where’s the harm in sliding some extra fun across the table?

Alastor would continue to kill, each kill of his thralls and even unaware souls providing power to Cain as well as any little favours the man wanted, and Cain wouldn’t bind Alastor’s unusual abilities (broadcast thing, voodoo, other) and leave him without the ability to protect himself. Fail to play ball, and he’d let Vox or the other overlord have Alastor… because it would be more interesting than killing alastor outright.

The hotel? Well, Cain was pretty fucking angry at his family overall.

Adam and Eve were allowed into heaven despite what an awful guy Adam was, and he’s sure Abel got up there because he was the little favourite one. Cain sent Alastor to mind Charlotte’s little hotel thing for a multi pronged reason…

The first and foremost being to fuck with his dad, who would HATE Sinners being redeemed and cheapening his ‘god’s specialest boy’ status.

The second was because he wanted to help Charlie in a way where he wouldn’t be seen to be helping. Because he totally got what it was like to have parents abandon you no matter how hard you tried… Cain had seen the 666 News interview. Which had been… intriguing.

Third… if redemption was possible, then perhaps he could see his mother again.

Fourth, and finally, sending Alastor to deal with charlie was amusing to him. 

Lucifer was a little concerned to realise a rather important mortal figure had been in his realm and amassing power for centuries at this point, and it stings to realise that he had been hidden by Lillith. Whose heart broke for the boy, and he was sort of her nephew through Eve? So she’d taken pains to keep him safe and concealed, powerful but not overly so… until the population began to grow out of control. 

And then? Then they’d all grown busy with their own issues. Lilith with her revolution, and Lucifer in his own head, the Heavenly hierarchy with subjugating the sinners… 

Charlie with her hotel.

Discover Adam has resurrected in Hell, as a demon. Not as powerful as before, but because of his role in the exterminations… he has a glowing chain about one wrist he doesn’t understand.

Alastor hunts the man down, eager for a rematch but ultimately thinks better of it, realising a more delicious irony. One he, himself had had the pleasure of enacting on two occasions… 

And offers Adam to Cain in exchange for his soul. 

Charlie is distressed, not liking the malice of the idea, but… Lucifer decides this is fair.

Lilith returns or not? Unsure. This got more elaborate than needed.

Vox maybe has a ‘hmmm, i fucked up’ moment… and tries to at least patch the rivalry, maybe he is the catalyst for finding Adam. Discovering he’s also owned by Cain, look… sometimes another newscaster had to have an accident so you could get primetime. Sue him. 

Husk hangs around the hotel, enjoying himself.

Alastor makes a deal with Angel (not for his soul), to manage the Vox adult entertainment sector, which he technically now owns (along with the souls therein) through killing Valentino. Angel is given power to change what needs changing, star in what he wants, and alter contracts to free whoever no longer wanted to work there, etc. Alastor may not care for acts of the carnal, but he understood the concept of consent and that the majority of workers were under obligation rather than a strong work ethic.

Angel takes to it with gusto, and Vox gives him whatever he asks for (via a PA). 

Velvette doesn’t really care. Valentino reforms, of course, but belongs to Alastor… and therefore Angel. Alastor lets Angel do whatever he wants.

Which did involve target practice for a bit, but then he locks the other away. There’s food, there’s water and amenities that replenish… but no others. Nothing to play with, no one to play with, nothing to do except read books. No wifi. And spice-infused lubricant in a never-ending pump bottle. And one angry cacti in a decorative pot.

That's more because the greatest punishment is what people do to themselves and all.

The moth loses his mind slowly. It’s fantastic, etc.

Other stuff? When lute does come back for a battle, and Cain uses Adam as a shield.

She stops, shocked and her worldview upended, etc.

[ninakoll]

6 page (pg-13?) rinniki comic inspired by that one rly cute hajime story in which hajime is invited to eat pizza with rinne at niki's place. did this sort of as rinne's bday comic since niki got one too! sorry if its a little ooc i needed them in the Situation for this comic to work...

that dangling spit over someones face as punishment thing is 100% an older sibling forbidden move . anyway.. always fun to draw a short comic. see you aruound space cowboys

[psychomusic]

oc time again! + her town & culture (heavily inspired by pre-roman italic populations)

she is suri sauthon. her story is linked to my swtor imperial agent, tar'x, but most of her life except for the one year away where she meets him, is spent in a town in the mountains of mirial.

despite mirial being cold and desert, and many cities developing underground, her town flourishes thanks to a force nexus, venerated in the form of an ancient, sacred, alive crystal. the ecosystem of that mountain depended on what "the horned crystal" was capable of giving them, but mirialans couldn't live off of that alone, so they developed trade and some rudimental technology, even if oftentimes it was bought thanks to the highly profitable trade of a plant used to make medicines that slowed down aging and had overall healing properties.

note: everything that's generated by this nexus has these healing properties BUT they have to be processed, except for those who bathed in the waters of the cavity under the crystal - the "real" nexus, but not the worshipped one. the waters were sacred but they were not thought to be miraculous, unlike the crystal, who instead was thought of as the keystone of the ecosystem: without it, everything would fall apart (and that is partially true: the cavity was the "real" nexus but thanks to the crystal, also strong in the force, the properties were spread all over the mountains). those who bathed in the cavity's waters - so, all of the town, who had a sort of baptism there - could eat the plant, make whatever food with it, and not only that plant, but everything generated by the nexus, that, again, had similar properties. this allowed people to live up to normal life-spans without advanced medicines or, much, really. to those who didn't live there, though, after the processing, had incredible effects, slowing down aging - for those who took it regularly - and making people able to live up to half a century more than the average]

originally, there were four tribes of nomads that lived thanks to horned farm animals that decided to settle down into one bigger town and other smaller settlements, to live off of transhumance. this division of the tribes stayed into the political and social organization: every person belonged to one tribe specifically, and had slightly different rituals and culture. for examples, each tribe had their own priests and healers, with different techniques and traditions. the town, tho, was guided by a group of people in the high priesthood, a position you could reach only by having earned the trust of all tribes. those high priests had many roles: they guided the people into sacred processions common to all the tribes, they managed the trading with outsiders, they did the maintenance of the temple of the summit (the one that functioned as casket to the crystal) and created a special liquid to offer the crystal that helps it grow.

this particular temple was important because 1. it was very visible, from every angle of the town, and it became an important identity symbol; 2. it stored the venerated horned crystal; 3. it had the altar where sacrifices were made for the crystals. that altar had a hole connected to the cavity, that allowed the liquids to reach the underground; 4. it had various symbols: statues representing each tribe + the high priesthood, and typical mirialan tattoos carved into the wood of the trees that served as columns for the temple, symbolizing 8 values that who dared to enter HAD to have; 5. it was on the way to an important lake (called "mother lake" because the lake the town was built around to depended on the waters of that other lake) where they traveled to in important processions; 6. it was said that a the wizard who unified the tribes made it with its magic, making the plant grow to hold the temple's roof. this wizard was, actually, a force user, obv.

BACK TO HER THOUGH: she's daughter of one of the high priests, who was in charge of managing the trades with outsiders, and lives in a house on the mountains with her mother and him. her parents are from different tribes (that's one of the things that earned him trust from the 4 tribes): when a child is born from two different tribes, they don't pick one to allign to, but they're usually linked automatically to the one with more relatives in it (in her case, the father's tribe: she had many uncles and aunts on his side while her mom only had one sister).

later, though, she got quite tied to her mother's tribe due to a mysterious illness that only her mother's tribe healer was able to cure. she spent 4 years (from 10 to 14 years old) living with the healer and learned her secrets. to better study, she wrote them down. when she returned home, she studied to become a priestess with her father. at 22 (the average age: you can't become priest before your 20s), she was supposed to take a test and become a priestess, but the healer of her mother's tribe died and the tribe asked her to take her place. she couldn't technically do that, but both tribes estimated both her and her parents and she was allowed to become both. she then decided to try to become a high priestess, and became one at 25 (a quite young age). being part of the council, she tried to convince the various tribe healers to unite their knowledges and write them down, and eventually made it. healers still remained tribe based but they now had an "upper, inter-tribe level" similar to high priesthood.

years later, the sacred horned crystal is stolen from the temple by some Hutt mercenaries looking for a profit. given the trust she has earned from all the tribes and the fact that her father is the high priest that deals with outsiders (and she's been hearing stories and advice about it since she was little), she is the one tasked with getting it back. without the growing crystal, the keystone to their ecosystem, the village would have lasted only a few years. in hrr quest, she meets imperial intelligence agent tar'x laran and, as they "solve the mystery" and fight to have it back, they get closer. they'll get married and have a daughter, Vegoia (who's the only one who actually will get to the plot of my story. this was all background)

[chateautae]

hi <3

my lovelies are you still here? i'm thinking of dropping something 🥺

[sysig]

“My streamer” voice: My doctorrrrrr (Patreon)

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[crabsnpersimmons]

🍳 Have You Eaten? story "Show Me Your Love" now on Ao3!!

happy Valentine's Day! have you eaten?

whew! i managed to finish this story just in time for Valentine's Day! I hope you'll enjoy it!

you can read the new story here on Ao3

Summary: 粟米肉粒 suk mai yuk lup or “sweet corn and pork” in English—a simple and cozy Hong Kong dish with a peculiar sounding name. Valentine’s Day is usually associated with rich chocolates, candle-lit dinners, or extravagant meals in fancy restaurants—and your evening could not be farther from that. Tonight your favourite chefs have prepared a special night just for you.

again thanks to @starriegalaxy for proofreading and listening to my deranged yapping as the word count got longer and longer and longer 😂

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Free fic concept which is a trope I like: one of the jedi generals has a campaign go badly in a way they take the blame for and are politically disgraced for, so they lose their rank and go to the front lines as a low ranking trooper instead. They'd stick out like a sore thumb among the clones, of course, but life is full of unexpected twists and turns. Their old clone commander outranks them now. It's a bit awkward.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

#5 for story time DLC De Riva edition if you'd like.

#5 Rook fighting against a Crow from a rival house

Please enjoy this surprise 3,000 word short story set Post-AWR and pre-Veilguard. The prompt is from @hyperions-light's De Riva Story Time Prompts ask game. Magpie Files tag here for more snippets.

Includes all the Dellamortes.

Tags: Outsider POV, pre-canon Rookanis, The Ridiculous Schemes of Magpie "Mags" "Rook" de Riva (in support of Teia's mission to turn the Crows into a family)

Warnings: Fledgling whump, injury, concerns about torture, disassociation.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Crow Games

“Does this scream ‘trap’ to you?” asked the Magpie, with a sidelong glance to their masked companion. The man tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement.

Ludovica Conti tightened her grip around the hilt of her rapier, growing irritated when her target just sighed. “Fight me, damn you,” said Ludovica, raising the tip of her sword. Tonight would mark either her death or her graduation from fledgling to full Crow, and she wasn’t going to give up her life without a fight.

It was an insult that Magpie de Riva didn’t even go for their sword. “Your grip is too tight,” they told her. “You're showing overt signs of stress. Do you even have a real contract, or did Massimo Conti just throw you to the wolves so that he’d be able to demand reparations?”

Licking her lips, Ludovica could admit to herself that it was the latter. It was part of why she hadn’t hidden the heraldry attached to her collar. The fact that she knew the game didn’t make a difference, either: the word of the head of her house was law. She and her little brother had joined the minor Crow house as orphans, and lived at his sufferance. If Massimo got what he wanted out of her death, he might choose to be merciful and not pass the failed contract-that-wasn’t-a-contract along to her brother.

She was also one of the best fencers in her age group. It was correct that he had chosen her.

Her feet were light against the stone, letting her fly toward Magpie. The stance was perfect, the blade raised in absolute precision as it darted toward Magpie’s heart.

An arm caught her around the neck from behind and jerked.

The momentum that had carried Ludovica forward left her gasping now. Her vision reeled as she tried to catch up to the fact that the masked man’s arm was now around her neck. She wheezed in the chokehold, realizing that she hadn’t even seen him move. Her neck hurt—unsurprising given the impact, and she felt nausea build up somewhere in her chest. She tried to establish where Magpie was in the room, but the light was too bright and the spinning sensation didn’t diminish. She couldn’t breathe.

“Yield,” said the man, increasing the pressure.

She dropped the sword.

A chair scraped across the polished stone floor, and it was at this point that the terror sweat began to break out across Ludovica’s body. Being killed outright was one thing, but the sound made it clear that she was to be questioned. She bit back a whimper.

“Mags,” the man said, and there was something in his voice that Ludovica couldn’t place.

“We’ll figure it out,” Magpie said, and this tone was easier to put into words. It was cold and dead, a mask of indifference and purely rational decision-making that all of them learned to put on at will. Ludovica took in a steadying breath as she readied herself for what was to come next.

The two Crows pushed her forward and she retched into a bucket that had been laid in front of her. OK, fine, she thought, struggling to make sense of it as she tasted bile, Smart of them to leave less mess to clean up.

Murmers in another language were passed back and forth between the pair as Magpie systematically searched her for weapons. With each pass, she felt a little more helpless, which was stupid, as she was already helpless. She had miscalculated by attacking Magpie in front of her mysterious ally, who was almost supernaturally good. That was fine. At this point, all she really needed to do was exist until she didn't have to anymore. It's not like she knew anything that Massimo considered valuable.

Her head was forced back, and a liquid was poured down her throat. She tasted elfroot—for the soporific effect, perhaps?—along with comfrey and lavender in some kind of astringent solution. Her stomach heaved, and she struggled against her captors without meaning to. Strong hands held her steady and one of the Crows began tracing soothing circles against the nape of her neck.

It was a mistake to relax into the sensation, and she knew it, but nothing really mattered anymore. She was already dead. Rising from somewhere along her spine, a pleasant floating sensation sunk its hooks into her gut, and she chased the little kindness of that touch for as long as it deigned to last.

For a long moment, there was only calm.

When Ludovica came back to herself—no, there was no coming back; she was already dead. She blinked through the tears as Magpie blurred into her sight. The Crow was seated across from her on their own stark, wooden chair. Their hands were clasped loosely on their lap and their expression was cool and professional. The hands of their companion were on the fledgling’s shoulders. He held her from the back, a clear threat and a warning not to move.

The instant she came back to full alertness, Magpie’s eyes flickered from the partner’s face down to her own, meeting her gaze with cool certainty. “Do you know happen to know,” they said, and the words were carefully neutral, “what the correct course of action for me to take right now is?”

Biting her lip, she found herself wishing she still had the excuse of the disorientation or headache for her poor comportment. Both symptoms had subsided almost entirely.

“Are you—” she coughed into her hand, despairing at the fact that the Crows didn't even feel the need to bind them, and willed her voice into steadiness. “Are you going for the professional mask, then?”

“Well, of the three of us, I'm clearly the one with the best poker face,” said Magpie, raising their eyebrows minutely.

She could barely feel the bruising that should have been laced across her throat as she croaked a laugh. “Does that mean your partner is the sadist, then?” she asked, trying not to break into hysterical giggles. “You’re the reasonable one, and he's the threat? If I tell you everything, will you even let me die?”

The dizziness was back. She was breathing too fast. Magpie didn't move, and the hands on her shoulders tightened just the barest amount and then forced themselves to relax. That was all right. The touch was grounding, if less soothing than the circles that she thought had been Magpie. She would allow it to hold her together until the Crows chose to do otherwise.

“How about we start by getting everyone on the same page,” stated Magpie. Neutral, neutral, neutral. Like Antiva, in a war between Ferelden and Orlais. “Tell me what should be done with you, according to our rules.”

“It would be correct for you to kill me,” she said, trying to flatten her voice. Magpie was patriotically neutral, and so was she.

“No.”

She ignored the fluttering of her pulse as she tried to speak around the dryness in her mouth. “What?”

“That’s incorrect,” said Magpie, and their words grew colder as they leaned forward to set their elbows against their knees. “After failing to find me while I was alone? After failing to even meet my blade, let alone wound me? The correct thing would be for me to tie you up and ship you home to your head of house. That would rather solve most of House de Riva's problems in one swoop.”

There was a scuffle that Ludovica was barely aware of, for all that she had initiated it. On her knees on the polished floor, she realized that her arms were being held at her back by the iron grip of her captor. She strained to look up at Magpie. “Don't,” she begged.

Magpie hadn't moved an inch. “How many people that you love is Massimo holding hostage for your ready sacrifice?”

“Everyone I have left,” said Ludovica, hating herself for it. They had barely touched her and already she was broken. “Please don't take my cowardice out on them.”

Those cold eyes looked deep into her own, and Ludovica shivered with the intensity of them. “Child, if you agree, then I am going to get every one of them out from under Massimo.”

A demon’s bargain. Ludovica licked her lips, not willing to cast aside the potential for a miracle when she had no better options. “How?”

“You're going to sit back in that chair,” said Magpie, their voice going polite and pleasant in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “You're going to tell me everything you know about House Conti and its business. And then House de Riva is going to eat everything that Massimo has ever worked to build.”

The partner released Ludovica, and she caught herself with perfect balance, too unnerved to be grateful. She stood, slowly, and sat back in the chair. A slow turn of her head revealed the man leaning against the back wall, but Ludovica had to turn her back to him to look at Magpie. The man was still wearing his mask, anyway.

She was steadied by the ruthlessness in Magpie’s cold eyes, and she nodded. “What else?”

“We'll neutralize any threats to your family before Massimo learns anything” said Magpie, “but as a member of his house, I'm having you deliver the message to the First Talon that De Riva is making its move.”

“Can you authorize that?” Ludovica asked, instead of shouting, The First Talon?

Magpie tilted their head. “Viago could have me killed for it,” they said, and Ludovica appreciated the honesty, at least.

“Viago wouldn't and we all know it,” the partner interjected from behind her. “Beyond that, I would not allow it.”

“Thank you for that,” Magpie said with a warning look over Ludovica’s shoulder. “Viago would only kill me for it if he was already looking for an excuse. I don't think you realize how small of a player House Conti is.”

A huff from the man still leaning against the wall. “Even if he actually wanted you dead, Teia Cantori knows where he sleeps.”

“They haven't—”

“Well, not yet. But she’s a woman who knows her blueprints.”

Ludovica tuned the couple—who were almost definitely lovers themselves—out as they began to argue about the Fifth and Seventh Talons that they both referred to so familiarly. It was difficult for her to feel foolish when her head of house had underestimated the situation so thoroughly. She knew the game: he had gone after one of the Fifth Talon’s favourites. This might still end with every person she knew and didn't put on a safe list dead by the end of the week, but that was the hand Massimo had chosen to play. She didn't have any say in how it played out, other than what little leverage Magpie allowed her to bargain for.

Magpie’s partner didn't watch her so closely after that. Eventually, he left to get them food from the kitchen. Ludovica struggled to determine the hierarchy of the two Crows’ relationship. His manners were more polished than theirs were, but Magpie didn't defer to him, either.

The sun was starting to rise by the time Magpie (“Just call me Mags, seriously”) called for an end to the questioning. “We're just going to go in circles at this point,” they explained, cleaning off their pen and setting aside the journal that they had been filling with names and dates and gossip. “You’ve memorized the message that you need to deliver?”

Ludovica nodded, and when Magpie handed her the vial, she drank it without question.

When she woke, she was peering into the eyes of the most handsome man she had ever met. She blinked. And blinked again. He was still there, seated on a chair next to the couch she was lying on.

“Did it not work?” Ludovica wondered. “Am I dead?”

He grinned at her, and she blushed as her words caught up to her. “Hardly. The thought that I might make it onto the Maker’s choir?” he said, leaning back and putting a hand to his chest, “Ha! I tend to guide souls along from this side.” He graced her with a wink.

Oh no. The words had fallen right out of her head.

“Ah… but you're rather overwhelmed, are you not?” he asked, looking away and shifting away from her in a way that was rather endearing. Probably deliberately so. “Miss, do you know where you are?”

The pieces resolved in front of Ludovica, and she drew in a breath. “Did I make it to Villa Dellamorte?” she asked.

“Rather spectacularly. When we pulled you out of a shipping crate, we thought you were dead. It’s fortunate for you that the antidote was made so obvious to us.”

She nodded. “I have a message for the First Talon concerning House Conti and House de Riva,” she said with a steady voice. She had rehearsed it.

“I'm Illario, her grandson,” he said. “Please, let me take you to her.”

The Dellamortes weren't idiots, and they obviously knew she was an assassin, but she was also a young and recently-poisoned assassin. Any poison powerful enough to simulate death took at least a little while to throw off, after all. Illario still helped her to her shaky feet, as Ludovica stood up from where she had been lying on a sofa. She really should have guessed that the higher houses were all terrifyingly polite—with the emphasis on terrifying.

Fortunately, she was steadier by the time she was actually admitted to the First Talon’s study. She took a fortifying breath, let go of Illario's arm, and strode into the centre of the room.

Another man stood at the Talon’s right. He straightened from where he had been bent over a piece of parchment. “You don't need me here,” he objected, and Ludovica’s heart turned to ice as she recognized the voice. “The contract is solid as it is.”

But the First Talon's eyes had already found Ludovica.

It would have been less intimidating to be a sparrow caught in the gaze of a bird of prey. The woman was seated in a chair behind the desk as if it were a throne, and her hard eyes glittered like the multi-faceted masterwork of a gemsmith. Ludovica swallowed, feeling a tight, twisting sensation form under her breastbone, but her work tonight was too important. She refused to quail. “First Talon. My name is Ludovica Conti.”

“So I had determined. My name is Catarina. This is my grandson, Lucanis.”

Ludovica tried very hard to keep any expression from her face. “Pleased to meet you both,” she said, trying not to let irony colour the statement. “I have a message from Magpie de Riva on behalf of the Fifth Talon. The head of House Conti has attempted a grave injury upon both myself and Viago de Riva, not bound by the limitations of a contract. The Fifth Talon believes it is his right to enact justice upon House Conti for this, and he asks for your judgement.”

There was a long silence as Ludovica kept her head high. Catarina's stare seemed to bore directly into her soul. Ludovica tried not to think about strong arms holding her down on a chair, the man standing next to Catarina, or secret lovers meeting in a remote location that Ludovica had chosen as her killing ground.

“Granted,” said Catarina, and Ludovica held in a sigh of relief. House Conti was no more.

“That's it?” asked Illario, from where he still stood by the door.

The old woman smiled. “Do you think I don't get my own information on these situations as they develop? You young people are very dramatic,” said Catarina, as Ludovica held back a flinch, “but we must anticipate our allies as well as our enemies. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Illario said stiffly, stepping closer and holding out his arm. “Ludovica, would you like something to eat? I'm sure our House can sort out a meal, even for an unexpected guest.”

Ludovica looked back over the desk and met Lucanis Dellamorte's eyes for a moment. She could see a cool and deliberate distance there. “Thank you for your hospitality, First Talon,” she said, looking back at Catarina. After everything, she truly was grateful for how gently they were going about getting information from her. She brought her hand to Illario's arm and allowed him to lead her through the villa.

She understood enough. Mags de Riva had the full backing of the Fifth Talon and enough sway with the Seventh to make Viago reconsider removing Mags from the board if the Crow ever became a threat. Beyond that, Mags had somehow become the lover of the First Talon’s grandson, and would presumably back his play for the position when the time was right. Ludovica shook her head at the audacity of it all.

Illario smiled at her. “What are you thinking, I wonder?”

“It's just such a big house,” Ludovica gushed, letting her blush colour her face. The man really was very handsome.

But the Magpie had earned—or was about to earn—Ludovica’s loyalty in a way that no one ever had. Mags's allies were also positioned more closely to the First Talon than Ludovica could have imagined, and that made asking for outside help more risky than the possible benefit. Sadly, it also made Illario an enemy of sorts.

Or it would, eventually.

In the meantime, Mags had said not to try to deceive the Dellamortes, so Ludovica told Illario the story. Most of it, anyway.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Later:

MAGS: Why do people think I’m some kind of evil genius?

LUCANIS: Why do people assume Catarina knows everything?

MAGS: Because it’s safer to operate under that assumption.

LUCANIS: There you go.

[moe-broey]

Summoner potential is endless. You get an influencer who has perpetual tiktok voice and everyone considers it to be an accent (it... could be considered one?). And maybe with the right combination of magic and machinery (from Reginn's homeland) they can continue to do what they do. You get a Christian missionary who considers it "Part of His Plan" that they've arrived here to "Do The Lord's work and spread the good word" (this probably has extreme political repercussions whether they are well-meaning or deeply evil using this as a revenue for power/control. It's a whole ass historical domino effect). You get a conspiracy theorist with an INCREDIBLY skewed perception of the world, so whenever any Hero asks Anything about that Summoner's world, you're just getting bunk information. Net-negative information. Summoner, who when the Miriel FBs took place, believes the moon landing was faked and that the earth is flat. You get an evil politician and the Order just kills them within a week and goes back to the drawing board (self indulgent scenario. More compelling hypothetical would be the Order being forced to work with that guy, much like the fallen Heroes, becomes a whole ass political drama. Also might depend on how evil the politician is though, sometimes you do just have to make it look like an accident). You get the opposite end of political radicalization where this Summoner is disenfranchised and among many things is anti-monarchy, making all the royals and nobles within the Order's ranks a bit uncomfortable. You get Jerma985

[anderstrevelyan]

I thiiiink I’m on track to finish kcd2 this long weekend, do we think I’ll get my life back?

(the dlc comes out today) (I want to do hardcore mode) (I can’t decide whether to replay 1 or 2 first)

….hmm

[cringefail-clown]

late 2000s-early 2010s obscure writing forums were fucking wild man. we didnt even get block buttons. the in-group wars between chronically online teens ive witnessed would make a grown man cry. after one of the biggest dramas between mods of one site and us my friend buyed her own domain and made her own forum and started accepting refugees. we were both 13 what the fuck were we doing

[being-so-normal-about-reploids]

The world of 2214 is not kind to reploids, despite X's best efforts. The biosupremacist terrorist group Vanguard grows ever more aggressive, and there's only so much that a scrappy Maverick resistance group can do to combat them, even if that group happens to include the progenitor of all reploids. X finds himself in the precarious position of balancing his public image against his secret life in the underground Maverick city of Enoch, and balancing all of that against his increasingly unstable mental health and crumbling physical health...neither of which are improved by his own fears over having caught and integrated the Maverick Virus into his own code. As the Abel City Police build towards a massive power play over the Maverick Hunters, X and his friends suddenly become the final line of defense between all of reploidkind and those who would see them enslaved, if not destroyed. And if that weren't enough to worry about on its own, X seems to be missing some key memories and also developing some troubling new Viral capabilities of his own. But no pressure or anything, right? It could still be worse. Somehow. At least X finally got that nap. He'll need it...

Part of the Every End A Beginning series, aka the Every Endverse, a post-X5 series exploring a realistic, dystopian take on the setting with a disabled, retired X who trips and falls into a new life with a bunch of Mavericks, forcing him to confront his understanding of what it really is to be irregular. Deals a lot with disability and acceptance, burnout, trauma, grief, finding hope by any means necessary, recovery, and the necessity of community and friends and connection, no matter who you are or where you find yourself.

Plus it's literally the only fic in the world that somehow manages to place X and a C-15 Mettaur in a generally aroace, kitchen table polyamorous relationship along with a hacker and a sexbot without any of it being crack? it's fine don't worry about it

Third and final in the series, with a final word count topping 200k. You'll definitely want to read the rest of the series first if you haven't, because these are all direct sequels and we're now three novel-length fics into the alternate timeline. Do check the content warnings in each, it does get dark and I don't believe in pulling punches, but ultimately they're stories of hope and recovery. Things get worse before they get better, but they do get better.

Anyway, that's enough plugging my own fic for one day. I'm just very excited okay it's been a huge project and very important to me and I'm very stoked to be finally posting it. I hope y'all enjoy it. 🙏

[anjanahalo]

Wayne Vs Fenton 3

start of the madness

pls note I'm putting these numbers in as "what I have written." They're not gonna necessarily be in order. I hope to make a full fic to put on AO3. In the interim, here's stuff I wrote in general as it strikes me in the moment. This bit is from Tim's perspective after Damian and Danny Are Friends become a known quantity in the Wayne household. ~*~

Damian making friends didn’t make sense. Everyone else felt complacent in simply accepting it. Tim wasn’t. Considering his upbringing, autonomous socializing wasn’t part of Damian’s personality. Nor was how calm and patient the former assassin child became with all of his siblings, Tim included. Damian himself insisted he and this “Danny” were friends. Hell, Damian even called the kid by a nickname. Not his last name, not “Daniel.” His actual, preferred nickname. Tim was suspicious and instantly began investigating. Daniel “Danny” Fenton, age 15, moved to Gotham two months ago from Amity Park, Illinois with his godfather and temporary guardian, Vlad Masters, former mayor of Amity Park, head of Vladco Industries, and heir to Wisconsin’s Self Proclaimed Dairy King’s fortune. Child of Jack and Madeline Fenton, doctors of something called ectobiology, former college classmates of Vlad Masters, and founders of FentonWorks, a cottage research facility that developed antighost (Ghosts? Really?) weaponry and equipment. Brother of Jasmine Fenton, currently a student of Yale in their psychology undergraduate program, and already a shoe-in for the Dean’s list. Honestly, of all the people related to him, Danny ended up being the least interesting. Middling grades that dropped in high school along with attendance. That was probably what led to his coming to Gotham. A set of brilliant - if evidentially weird - parents and a rich and involved godfather doing what they could to help their faltering son to succeed by sending him to one of the top schools on the east coast. There was evidence that Amity Park itself had some apparently minor meta vigilante protecting it, but searches for “Phantom” turned up nothing in the Justice League’s database, suggesting whomever this was might be an actual ghost like Deadman and, thus, restricted to access by those with JLD clearance. Tim put aside that issue for later. He could just ask B for privileges later. Besides, the only information he found on this vigilante was on a few amateur fansites and local papers. No major news sites or government listings. It couldn’t be anything major. His focus remained on Daniel Fenton. Except, even when looking into the kid’s socials, there wasn’t anything interesting. He had a couple friends back in Amity, the most interesting of the two was Samantha Mason of the Mason family, though Tim already knew of her from various socialite dinners she looked ready to burn to the ground, pink and lacey dress or not. Her social media was full of activism, conservation movements, and calls for both veganism and something called ultra recycle vegetarianism. Tucker came from an average family of upper middle class parents, nothing odd there, though his social media showed his love of technology and ancient Egypt. Nothing strange there. Danny’s social media, besides his friends, included links to Nasa, occasional rambles about high school life, and, for some reason, a dog photoshopped to look green. From the replies of his few followers, it was an inside joke since they all cooed over the dog and didn’t comment on the green. Again, nothing strange. Even the one time he managed to hack into Damian’s phone to see his messages yielded nothing. He and Danny would meet for what Danny called “playdates.” For some reason, Damian played along with a name Tim knew he’d scoff as childish and beneath him. Even that would be innocuous. One or the other would suggest meeting at various parks, arcades, even the observatory, negotiating dates and times, and that was it.

Danny was a normal kid. Damian was a born and bred assassin. Why in the actual fuck were these two friends? Nothing made sense. Everyone else was happy to ignore it because of the peace the irrationality before them instilled. Tim wouldn’t become complacent. Whatever Danny was hiding, he’d find it.

[honestlyvan]

I do kind of wonder if the implicit assumption that Door is mad at Alan for involving Saga should be re-examined a little bit.

The game is very careful to not frame any of Saga's relationships as paternalistic. Like, repeatedly, with emphasis, especially among the relationships with people who are close to her and have reasons to act protective over her. Having Door primarily be motivated by a sense of righteousness over someone messing with his protectorate goes against theme with her, and would single him out as the only male character whose help Saga does need.

Furthermore, we know Freya didn't seem to think that highly of Door, never telling Saga anything about him and being firm in not wanting to discuss the topic. Her considering Door a potential danger to Saga just like her powers and choosing to hide the truth to protect her wouldn't make sense if she, too, could use her seer powers to confirm that Door did have Saga's best interest at heart, and with Door existing outside of time, I don't think there's adequate signalling that this would be something he would have had a change of heart about.

Furthermore, while Door is very likeable and definitely not a villain or even an antagonist... he is very trickster-like, and seems very cavalier with how he chooses to interfere and when. From his interactions with the Old Gods, spending fourty years on kill-on-sight terms with them only to happily fanboy over having them on his show and collaborate with them to mess with Alan, to the way he almost deigned to let Alan create a hint for Saga about how to use her powers rather than letting Saga and Tim just work it out amongst themselves, he's playing the long game in every situation and seems to enjoy making the story take twists and turns because of his involvement.

So Door is in a weird superposition of meddlesome/hands-off largely because I almost got a sense that with Saga, he's keeping his distance on purpose. Keeping himself concealed and out of the conversation, despite much of her story being discovering her origins and discovering her own supernatural influence. Outside of letting Alan create a single manuscript page about him, he doesn't even hint at his own existence while Saga is in the Dark Place, theoretically right there for him to reach out to.

And if Door does ultimately think that surely any daughter of his can handle herself, there is one another innocent that has been involved in this all by Wake I could see him getting worked up over instead.

[chenziee]

No promises