#Had to make a separate post about this as I'm truly baffled

[samantha-and-nellie]

it's real! it's here!!!

you can check out the pdf via this link. a massive, massive thanks to @raspberryspacecloud for letting me know that this booklet seemed to have been sold at one point with the samantha mini doll, and for pointing me towards a listing where i could purchase it! it was absolutely one of the coolest tumblr experiences i've had to make a post about wanting this book and having someone help me find it:)

in case you missed it, i've also scanned kit's version; the post about that is here. felicity's seems to be on internet archive, which means that lights! camera! molly! is the only one that is not available online afaik.

some other thoughts about this book below the cut!

as you can see, this book was definitely made with idea of it being sold with the mini doll--it fits perfectly on the back of the box. i also saved the stickers from the box and put them on the copyright page, so peep those in the pdf!

its production is also quite a bit cheaper than kit's (and it was made well before her's, so that makes sense). as seen in the above pictures, it is literally held together with a staple, which is honestly quite funny to me (although just getting the book flat to scan meant that the pages are now, unfortunately, a little loose). i'm definitely a bit confused still about its product history since, as is visible in the picture on the right, the booklet itself does have its own price, which makes me think you could somehow buy separately from the mini doll... which then makes the the choice for binding it with just a staple even more baffling??? truly no idea what ag was up to here.

[utilitycaster]

Feels relevant to current discussion about heroes and villains— I wrote a post recently about enjoying the ambiguity of Andor, the way the show doesn’t reveal the inner motivations of some characters, and the audience is left to wonder whether or not they could have been redeemed or not.

And I have had multiple people come on that post to tell me that there actually wasn’t any ambiguity, and explain everybody’s motivations.

And it is absolutely baffling to me how some people in fandom can’t sit with any level of uncertainty, even in a show that’s specifically marketed as being messy and with shades of grey morality.

I would recommend these folks switch to children’s programming, but even Sesame Street deals with more mature concepts than they seem willing to engage with.

It’s exhausting.

So, I don't follow Andor other than having some mutuals and people I follow outside the CR fandom who are big fans of, as I call her, Mom Mothman - I have gathered that it is very good and very nuanced and has no truly morally perfect options and some fans aren't handling that well (not my mutuals, natch) but that's the extent of it.

On the one hand I do think it's very natural and human to want closure and clear answers and I hesitate to condemn anyone for that; but I do think you point out a massive problem that I think ties into the villain thing I mentioned, which is that a lot of people, and unsurprisingly, a lot of people who are extremely online, have developed a very identity-based morality, ie, you are a good person because you check certain demographic boxes and like the right things and have the right intentions, rather than a morality based on actual actions in the real world. Hence people who post about death to the imperial core or whatever but freak out if they have to share a bus with a homeless person and that ilk. You get people who are into villains, but they're so scared of some rando online being like "but the villain did a bad thing, so you are bad for liking them" that they go "well actually the villain was JUSTIFIED AND GOOD" which makes people who are actually smart enough to separate stanning a villainous character from one's irl morality go "uh, wait a second, if you like [bad guy] because they're interesting and pretend that's one thing, but you're now actively defending the practice of mass murder so long as you're sad enough while doing it, and I think that's really questionable" and now everyone thinks they suck because the first group still is like "um you like Bad Guy so you're Bad automatically" so then they double down harder, and it gets worse and worse. Like, that's what I run into when I talk about frustrations with people stanning villains: if you say "Ludinus Da'leth is a fascinating person whose pain is very real but whose actions caused that pain to persist and ricochet across multiple cultures and civilizations who by all rights should have been allowed to rebuild a better world after the Calamity were it not for him exerting his power to keep destroying it" I'm like hell yeah brother; if you're like "no he was right he's just a sad white boy who deserves peace" I'm like "no he's a mass-murderer who's ruined countless lives across the world, who consistently allies with empires and tyrants over the common person while claiming to be a voice for the common person, and never expressed a lick of regret for any of it and it's pretty sus that you're defending this behavior."

Which is to say, yeah, because intention is prioritized over outcome in these fandom circles, the idea that someone's intention might be unknown terrifies people because they're so obsessed with proving that they're a good person by liking the right characters that if you say "well what if we don't know which characters are right, and that's okay" they feel as though you've pulled the rug out from under them. I actually do think some of these people are capable of engaging at a level beyond Sesame Street, intellectually! The issue is primarily one of being terrified to be seen as bad by internet strangers. I don't have a solution for that other than, to be blunt, doing things in real life in your community so that your sense of self and morality is not so fragile as to be destroyed by someone online calling you a bad person for blorbo preferences.

[thatorchiahoe]

regarding the ethel cain/hayden controversy.

i am quite frustrated and baffled by the whole situation.

i started listening to haydens music about a year ago. it got me out of my toughest time. i felt alone and when i discovered preachers daughter, i felt seen. it combined every one of my interests and fears into a whole. i have been a die hard fan ever since. to find out about everything really broke my heart. i, personally, cannot speak on some of the topics such as the racism and the in¢est/SA because i have never experienced either of them. i am truly sorry to anyone who has ever had any of the three happen to them.

im glad that she didnt brush everything off and try to hide it or lie. i'm glad she came out about it when she did. i appreciate the apologie that was put out. i do believe that actions speak louder than words and if anything of this sort happens again (she makes more posts about these topics in a hurtful way, does not change her actions, etc.) i will most likely choose to not listen to her music but thats just how i feel. i do believe in people changing their ways. i think that hayden has grown and wont do this again but im not her so i could be proven wrong. i strongly believe that she wont though.

i will say that i fully understand both sides.

but just because you love an artist doesnt mean that its ok to support horrendous things that have been said and just because you hate an artist doesn't mean that you can harrass them constantly, over and over.

i will still listen to haydens music, i am still excited about the new album and i will keep my theme/posts that are related to her up. when willoughby tucker comes out as well as any other music, i will make a few posts about that. if you have a problem with this, please just dont interact with my page. im going to take a step back from hayden as a person for a little bit. i will try my best to keep the artists life separate from the art.

my conclusion is that i am not fully forgiving her but im not going to hate on her. in time though, i do believe i will be able to forgive her. everything is just so fresh right now im honestly still trying to wrap my head around it all.

one thing i will say is that some of the things that people are doing have gone way too far. doxxing her family and friends, direct trans phobia, and releasing parts of her life that are private. everyone really needs to be mature about this because these are serious topics. fighting fire with fire does not make anything better. to a point, it could cause serious issues like her disappearing from the internet entirely or suicide. and calling her a pedo or a zoophile is.. a little.. questionable. many people just assume trans people are pedos. some of these people are just out for blood. its not cool or quirky to ruin someone's reputation.

this is my opinion on the matter. you can have your own opinion but before making a decision i do suggest that you do your own research and not base your opinion on what others are thinking right now. id love to hear everyones take on this whole thing as well! i truly hope hayden is doing well and is safe. shes a human being at the end of the day and all of the hate can be very overwhelming. i would fully understand and support if she took some time away to heal.

much love to everybody. have a good night (or day depending on where you are) mmmwah! tschüss ♡

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

Hi Mara,

I wanted to say that all of your writing feels extremely genuine, and I am inspired by the honesty and detachment in your retrospective posts, especially when talking about personal—external—influences. I rarely hear others say that their interest in X is simply gone, or admit that they like(d) Y because the ‘context’ seemingly urged them to. A pattern I often notice instead is personal attachment and the unwillingness to let go of ideas and things which no longer resonate or never really have in the first place.

I wish it was easy to distill all of one’s experiences and likes, remember why and how they came to be, be honest as to how one felt about them, separate the wheat from the chaff, and arrive at something that feels truly genuine and ‘you’.

It feels reductive and probably comes with projection on my part, but that’s the impression I get.

Hope the storm didn’t affect you and your family too much.

Good morning, anonymous--thank you very much for such a kind message!

I wrote about this more vaguely in last months subscriber post, reflecting on "how nothing seemed to scare me" lately and how baffling it seemed that people thought Stephen King's Apt Pupil was a terrifying horror story, and incidentally had been thinking about this during the period of having power but having no internet after Hurricane Milton--I had all these videogames I tried to play but realized they all felt completely boring and uninteresting without something to listen (my favorite streamer, my favorite podcast) to while playing (and in turn, that I needed to be doing something somewhat stimulating while listening to something); I had all these anime shows I could be watching, too, but again little interest because they were all just dead boring--and all I could really manage for myself were to read Henry James and rediscover my old Longmont Potion Castle collection to listen to until internet came back;

but, I don't know how much the genuine 'you' matters; I think about something a sculpture professor told me about the hippies and an adage they had that went kill your parents, and the professor added that it was meant not (always) literally, but to disentangle yourself from 'the origin' or: maybe: the most sacred and profane feelings you see yourself as being a-part of;

realizing I basically have zero interest in being an artist might have been a big hurdle for me to disentangle from way-back in Wilderness when I had some ego-fear of losing my identity as Marabarl and what that entailed: divulging everything about myself, being self destructive, seeming crazy, and using it all as oil to art--severing that all seemed like it would drive me more lonely and leave me with nothing but some bare-dry stick of a person that'd few people would be interested in (but glimpsing at this idea also spoke to how 'being an artist' had little to do with my own desire and more to do with maintaining 'connection' with 'invisible others'). I don't know if killing my parent there had left me a more true version of myself, but it severed connections I mostly kept entwined by wholly out of fear of the loneliness or of letting go of a familiar rot and pain. I'm far more boring than the older Mara, because really now all I'd like to do is go to my weekly sandwich shop, cook, clean, read, listen to audiobooks, be monotonously religious, and try to write bad fiction that I never finish because I keep rewriting the same few parts for months at a time.

There's a quote from a book I finished a few days ago, For Thy Great Pain Have Mercy On My Little Pain, by Victoria Mackenzie, that I really loved:

"When the day begins, we say that it is breaking. So with my life. Part of me had to be taken into pieces before I could truly start to live. For in my shewings Jesus had said, 'I shall shatter you for your vain passions and your vicious pride; and after that I shall gather you together and make you humble and meek, pure and holy, be oneing you to me.'

My will was broken and I am glad of it. I am only a thing that moves this broom and sweeps the curled leaves and corpses of insects from one side of my cell to the other."

Each layer of myself, as it seems with age, starts to seem more-and-more to be a vanity that I hold to myself well-after it has separated and shed, out of fear and comfort for the more simple figure that is underneath--morosely, I start to really believe the purest part of my-self comes with death when all has been shed away wholly and the carcass is left as the most simple and un-connected atom of Me, and for others: when the Left are shred out to ash and the Right are ate up to heaven; tears and emotion for the dead, too, a type of vanity over wishing that lost other to not be gone from the identity yet though it is truly just another vain callous now shed and clung-to: Dieth and Daniela who I keep getting mad at in fear of letting go-of;

but even in more simple ways--remembering old loves towards things like Narutaru and not wanting to let go because of how fond and warm they felt just a few years ago, and keeping that old passion around like it were furniture that had gone decrepit past any real function except favor; although, during Hurricane Milton, again between time of Power but no Internet, I rewatched some of FLCL and .hack//sign and wished I could be rewatching Hey Arnold's scary episodes--cause really no-matter how much I think I'm capable of letting go of things that seem all vain, boring, and worthless to the simple self, I am a simple creature who wants comfort in the familiar and to things I've loved and felt loved by. And, luckily, I still love Boogiepop! (I think it's easier to keep a love for those things around because they don't really remind me of bad-times as Narutaru does, but I'd like to always keep an effort to keep Hiroko and cute little Ensof in my heart)

Take care.

[nightmare-foundation]

As someone who does see Ozpin and Ozma as the same person and Ozpin being essentially a defense mechanism and a constructed identity, I don’t think him basically devour souls makes him evil bc that’s Light fault. He tricked Ozma into accepting it. Think the train scene in Invincible, that’s how it is. Light killed those people not Ozma. Oscar is in danger but they will be separated. The merge is a bad thing and needs to be overcomes. Light is Ozma’s villain like how Adam is the Bees’.

I also one of the Ozlem endgame ppl too so that’s prob influences my thinking.

Yeah the merge thing definitely isn't Oz's fault. Light manipulated Ozma into accepting his task and thus the curse. Regardless of how it works, it was never his fault and he definitely isn't evil for it. A lot of people seem to love painting Oz basically as the root of all evil loll.

Generally I never agreed with the idea that Oz just... devours his hosts and his hosts disappear. My thoughts on the merge can be summarized in this video pretty well.

While i don't think he devours his hosts, I definitely don't think the merge is a good thing either lol. While Oscar won't disappear, even if the merge happens, that change is still unwilling on both Oz and Oscars parts. Ozpin as we know him (the mischievous, knowing Headmaster) will functionally cease to exist and Oscar Pine is changed, though the dominant identity will be Oscar, just with the added... 'bonus' of a Gods tyrannical mission, magic, and more memories. Ironwood hit the nail on the head when he said "Eventually, you won't be able to tell who's who anymore." Just in the... opposite direction than he meant, considering he's an unreliable narrator lol.

Generally there's lots of reasons why I don't see it as his hosts disappearing and Oz essentially just stealing their identity as a means to escape from being Ozma. Like, merging souls is bound to legitimately change his identity, considering your aura is YOU. It's your identity. His merge is a merging of identities. It's why Oscar is identifying with Oz's memories, why Oz always frames the merge as an inheritance or Oscar taking from him, etc. Plus there's Oz just... abandoning his old staff and making a cane, and there's the whole theme with your weapon being an extension of yourself- and we've never seen any other character abandon their weapon. Not even Cinder technically did. And he made it after he "[...] learned to work with the lives in which he had been paired."- which is REALLY interesting loll. (Also, adding in here after I finished writing the post- in that same scene, the host is in control of the body, and Oz is briefly seen off to the side, looking the exact same as the host, vs when his first host spoke to him and Ozma jumped back, looking like OZMA, not his host. I think he somehow changed how his curse worked? Which has FASCINATING implications)

Sorry, I love to yap about the merge Oz has to deal with. I have a million thoughts on his merge and how it works, especially tied into the Ozlem reconciliation. Because man, that'd be another reason why Oz is so scared to actually talk to Salem; he wants to reconcile with her so badly, but would she still love him? Would she still care for him even though he's not truly Ozma anymore? And that's just getting past the fear if she ever truly loved him in the first place.

And about Light being the Adam to Oz's Blake- i totally agree. I doubt the parallels are 1:1, especially if I'm wrong about Oz having abandoned Lights mission, but the parallels are definitely there and it's very interesting and sad.

But yeah lol, TL;DR- Oz absolutely isn't evil for his unwilling merge with his hosts. People who demonize him for it baffle me considering it wasn't his choice.

[looselyreadymade]

Part 13: Ahead of the Game

Falling into an AU; Reader AFAB x HH 

TW: threats, swearing, mild torture, sex acts, anxiety, panic, drugs, violence, mild gore, reader x Alastor, reader x Vox, ADDICTION, SEXUAL ASSAULT, DISSOCIATION, ABUSE, DRUG WITHDRAWAL, ACTIVE RECOVERY (this and the last chapter got dark real quick. I'm so sorry. But my god did it feel freeing to write such a painful story arc. Please do not read on if you are under 18 or triggered by the above features or think these themes may affect your mental health. I will post clarification in future chapters when the dark has passed and it's safe to read on if you need to avoid these themes. As it always does, it will get better, I promise. Hope is very strong on the horizon, in life and fanfic <3 )

POV: Anonymous Letters 

The first of the letters arrived on the Monday, delivered by a hooded figure. They knocked, awaited to be let in before giving the letters, avoiding showing their faces to any potential cameras. After handing the letter to Husk at the reception, the demon hastily walked out, not looking back. 

Husk looked at the small envelope with a messy ‘A’ on the front. Assuming it was creepy fan-mail for Angel, he laid it on the desk and returned to his doom scrolling. 

He completely forgot to tell anyone about it by the time everyone came down for dinner. Angel still hadn’t returned from shooting in the studio. The letter remained untouched, forgotten. Alastor had served up a delicious Creole dish with multiple sides that everyone was chowing into when they heard a female voice calling out a “hello?” 

Curiously, Charlie leapt up, followed by Vaggie to greet the potential new guest. They were wearing a pink hoodie, hung low over their face, holding her hands in her pockets. The woman asked if they worked at the hotel; confirming, she passed them the envelope and ran out the door to her parked bike, speeding off. 

Charlie eyed the small envelope, baffled. They brought it into the kitchen with the others, holding it up, asking if this was for Angel, Alastor or someone else? Husk snapped his finger, “oh shit yeah, i forgot. Left it on the side. It’ll be for angel. Alastor doesn’t get letters from fans.” He smirked at the demon, side-eyeing him. Alastor chuckled, waving off the comment and acknowledging it belonging to the famous porn star. Charlie looked at the letter, still confused. “Wait what do you mean? I was literally just given this, right now. When did you get a letter?” 

Surprised, Husk wandered to the front desk, returning with the exact same scrawled letter ‘A’ on an identical envelope. “Two creepy letters? Damn, someone’s trying too hard.” 

Vaggie takes the letters from Charlie and Husk, pocketing them. “They’re for Angel to do what he wants with, creepy or not. Come get some more food, guys.” 

A few hours later, Alastor had slunk to his room while Cherri, Husk and Vaggie watched a movie. Charlie was in the workshop, fixing together a project piece for one of their next activities. 

Angel walks in, stretching out his back. 

“Rough day huh? Got somethin’ to cheer you up.” Husk points to Vaggie, who holds up the letters.  

“Two of ‘em? From the same guy?” 

“They were delivered separately, by different couriers. Husk got one this morning, the second turned up during dinner. Go on, open them.” 

He pulls out the folded sheet, squinting to make out the scrawled writing. “Hey, guys? This ain’t for me, it’s for Alastor. And i think it’s a threat?” He threw one of the letters through the air, Husk catching it neatly.  

They read it, shocked and confused. 

“Hey, Alastor! Get your butt down here! Someone’s threatening your ultimate power!” 

His shadow soared across the hallway into the lobby, down the walls to stand behind Vaggie. “Hmmm?” 

She passed him a letter. His face twists in disgust as he tried to decipher the writing. “This truly is awfully written.... the details though... what does the other note say?” 

“It’s the exact same, chicken scratch and all.” 

He squints, intrigued. “This doesn’t seem much of a threat. Actually, more of a letter of concern. Is someone afeared for my wellbeing? HA!” 

“This is incredibly strange. Two letters, from two separate deliveries, the exact same warning. I think someone went out of their way to stay anonymous here, Al. This might be real, and serious. It literally lists the times and dates you go to cannibal town. Do you think maybe someone could be trying to save you from an ambush?” 

“Ha ha, i doubt it my dear. Even if they were so foolish as to assume i needed the help, i hardly heed anonymous cries for attention. If i wish to see my friend, i shall do so at my whim.” 

Vaggie pinches her chin, thinking. “I mean... maybe it’s not the cannibal town part that they’re warning you about, maybe it’s more the journey there. What if you got a taxi this week, instead?” 

Alastor looked annoyed at the implication. “And avoid my assailants? They no longer have the element of surprise, if that would have made any difference whatsoever. No, i don’t particularly concern myself with this level of half-baked assumption.” 

He discards the letter to the table before strolling back upstairs, unphased. 

Two days later, Lucifer returns to the hotel with minor updates about the Goetia heiress. He had managed to have her looked after by Belphegor, who she got along with hilariously well. Charlie thanked him for ensuring she got somewhere safe, reminiscing on how you made the sacrifice of your own life to save Octavia. Your memory was fond in her mind, aching her chest, but bringing joy for what you had done for someone else. In a horrifyingly beautiful way, it had mirrored the loss of Sir Pentious. Vaggie suggested a movie night to watch a film that you had said you loved the earth version of. Three guests and all the hotel staff crowded into the small lounge corner with snacks, drinks and a sense of family. 

Later that night, towards the end of the movie, the TV changed channel to a city-wide broadcast. Vox took the screen, stood with his chest puffed proudly in a long black and neon trim coat, looking like he owned the world. He introduced his new and improved app, 'VitalityV'. He gestures to an on-screen animation of the app’s user interface, the cyan of his face a shade brighter than the royal blue in the studio background. He introduces the app as a game changer, a platform like no other to express and improve oneself. He invites the audience to attend a grand opening at the Vees tower this Friday night, to welcome everyone into the Vee family. “What we have, we will share with you. Trust us.” The camera zooms in on his hypnotic eye. Everyone in the room covers their eyes except Niffty, who gets hers covered by Alastor after a few seconds. The audio of the commercial becomes a rhythmic song without lyrics. The screen goes black, followed by shimmering light reflected off a curved surface, swinging on the screen. The camera pans, revealing your hips. Your clawed gloves loosely swung by the shiny material. The whole room drops a few degrees in temperature. All at once, they all recognise the gloves... and who wears them. The next shot of you peering over your shoulder, looking unphased as an animation of the app plays in the background. They watched the recording of you interacting with the app, then cuts to the next sultry scene, one after another, barely tied into the theme of an app at all. This was purely to attract attention, and fuck had it worked. The angle of your crouching and licking the blood particularly disturbed the group, especially Charlie, who let out a “Holy Fuck.” followed by Angel’s “Yeah. Fuuuuuck.” 

The commercial ends with your stride to the Vees and touching Vox’s shoulder. The air around the TV went black as the lights flickered. Everyone knew Alastor was freaking out, but they couldn’t look away from the screen. 

The screen flicked back to the forgotten movie before switching off. Three very long seconds passed before everyone started shouting and exclaiming that you weren’t dead, how did you survive, why were you with the Vees, what the hell went wrong. All except Alastor, who’s form was shifted into full Radio Demon, still locking his piercing eyes with the now blank television screen. 

 Lucifer grabs Charlie, exclaiming “it’s her, she’s alive! She’s really alive!” He looks overjoyed until seeing Charlie’s horrified pale face. “What’s wrong Char? Why aren’t you happy? She’s okay!” 

She knew this was far from okay. Very, very far. They had left her. Assumed she was dead when they couldn’t find her. She probably didn’t even know how hard or long they looked, the hellhounds and imps and investigators they hired, how Alastor had torn demons apart trying to find witnesses with information. Oh Shit, Alastor. She looked over to him, still completely paralysed. She was truly afraid to speak to him right now. 

“Charlie?” Lucifer pleaded, not understanding. A tear rolled down her cheek as she blinked and threw her arms around him. “We messed up dad. We really, really messed up. She’s never going to forgive us.” Her sobs quietened some of the shouting from the other characters. Vaggie stopped arguing with Angel about whether you were safe or not in order to comfort Charlie.  

He hugged her close, feeling the pain in her daughter’s voice. “She’s alive, that’s more than we could have ever dreamed of. Whoever those guys are, they must have found her. Can’t we go see her now?” 

A pitch of radio tuning startled them mid conversation. “No.”  

Everyone turned to Alastor, anxiously awaiting for him to continue. 

Eyes still locked on the picture box, he spoke in pure radio static, venomous and cold. “No, you cannot go see her now. She’s in the clutches of some of Hell’s most manipulative, narcissistic, controlling maniacs with God complexes. If you dare to approach them, they will be expecting you. I even believe this may have been a ploy to lead us to them. It’s not common for the trio to extend an open invitation like this, and especially not on that box.” His finger, lengthened by the demonic shift, pointed at the TV. “They will be expecting for us to try to save her. It’s a trap, no doubt. We must prepare our own counter offensive and backup measures. I am familiar with the Vees personally; this will be my mission to lead, if you shall have me as so.” 

Vaggie, hesitant but compassionate, tells him “alright Alastor, you’re definitely the best one for figuring out their motives. You’re right, it’s definitely a trap. But we need to do this carefully. What if they’re trying to get a reaction out of you? Trying to make you go full Radio Demon and trick you somehow? This seems targeted, at us. The app, if it’s really what it sounds like, might be some sort of mind control. I really don’t want us risking losing one of our best allies to their mind games.” 

Alastor relaxes slightly at the compliment, ego swelling. He huffs, frustrated. “I see. Well as long as you utilise the information i give you, i trust we will be in full confidence and high spirits getting back our girl.” 

The look was as much eager as it was menacing. Nobody was comfortable with it. 

Lucifer met Charlie’s eyes again, apologising. “I’m so sorry. If I'd known... i’d never have left her. I swear. I’ll make sure we get her back, no matter what.” Gratefully Charlie hugs him again, needing the reassurance. “I know dad, you did exactly what you were asked, it’s-” 

“If you DARE say ‘not your fault’ i will personally find every angelic blade this side of the pentagram and play acupuncture with ‘his highness’s’ vital organs. Do not doubt me, princess.” 

Vaggie steps in, diffusing before Lucifer could snap back. “Hey, hey, alright, we get it, you’re pissed and Lucifer’s sorry. Turn the page. Let’s work together on this and argue later. Think of her,” gesturing to the blank TV, “and what she’s probably been through. As far as she knows she got shot and left for dead. I doubt they told her about us looking for her. Might have even weaponised that. We need to remember the brainwashing Vox does. Alastor, can you talk us through how it works?” 

The drawing board with pins and strings came out in full force as the group debate the strengths and weaknesses of the Vees. It was difficult for them to acknowledge the full force of their failure to save their friend. They could only make it up to you now by bringing you home. 

POV: Trapping a trapper 

You can feel the buzz in the city as everyone prepares for the app celebration party. Nightclubs and bars across town are alight with people conversing about what to wear, who to bring. You hadn’t braved leaving the Vees tower since you sent out those notes; unfortunately, there’s going to be three very disappointed unpaid demons out there. You’ll try to repay them later, with interest. For now, you just need to survive. 

Vox made you wear a soft velvet choker than matched your gloves. It had a rounded blue pendant dangling from it, slightly glowing with electricity. You had no doubts this was a tracker or recorder of some kind. You made sure to take it off before leaving the bedroom that night. 

Later, after your usual routine, you settled in front of the wall of screens with a plan forming. All the notes and details about the gala were saved in a subfolder that Vox had tried to keep out of logical sight; you knew him well enough to overcome this pathetic hiding attempt. He really did think so fucking little of you, didn’t he? 

You memorised the details, the itinerary, the planned guestlist of VIPs, the ones to watch for. Hazbin Hotel staff included. In bold, red highlight. No surprise there. Next came the coding. You used your VPN and copy-pasting skills to create a secret network of backdoors into the Vee tower’s programming. You planted the keys in the lighting, the fire sprinklers, the automatic doors, the WiFi, the speakers, one by one establishing your escape route. However they assumed this was going to go, you were at least five steps ahead. 

Looking through the keystroke history, you noticed a few visits into the audio file logs during the day, not made by you. Had Vox been exploring the archive? Why? 

The answer came soon enough, bringing the whole exposé to light. Vox had copied segments of the conversation between Alastor and Rosie; particularly the parts about trying to remove Lucifer from the equation and needing Charlie’s power. There were also copies made of the discussion about you, with Alastor bragging about having nearly got you into a contract. There were at least three variant copies of this clip, presumably for different uses. He was collecting evidence to expose Alastor in front of everyone. You strongly doubted warning Alastor not to come would make a difference; at least he could defend his name if he was there.  

Typing and pasting code furiously, sped up by the powerful narcotics, you create a counter-attack that will destroy his weak attempt to ruin Alastor. You just had to pray on any God that would listen that Vox didn’t find your coding before the gala. You were meticulous, setting up a vicious counter move using Vox’s own words against him. Your final step was to weaponize a brutal trojan virus. This thing needed to be contained until the very last moment, or it would ruin everything. Neatly packaged in layer upon layer of cyber security, you set it to detonate and release into every back door you created upon hearing voice activation of four words that you were absolutely unequivocally sure would not be uttered by accident in the same sentence. Or anywhere near each other, really. You’re not even sure YOU could say them. But if Vox wants to destroy the Radio Demon and turn all the people who care for him against him, you had to play really fucking dirty and extremely carefully to stop him. Hell knows how long it will take him to debug this system if you detonate this bomb.

  

POV: If you can’t take me at my worst, personified (at the app release party) 

The doormen had a quick-test kit for filtering out angels. One little stab on the finger; if you bled any colour other than gold then you would be allowed in. They gave no flexibility for the King of Hell, nor Vaggie, despite multiple protests.  

Angel led the group through to the nightclub floor of the Vees tower. A bouncing tune thrummed a steady bass into the room, spotlights and mini disco balls throwing diamonds across the floor and walls. A long black bar spanned the length of the right wall, tended by demons with consistently broad shoulders and cropped hair, highlighting their horns. Guests mingled across the steadily filling room, blocking most of the view to the stage up ahead. They filed through, dodging overexcited patrons recording their videos in the flashy dancefloor. Husk kept his guard up, feeling tense in the upbeat room, as if a calm before the storm was brewing. “I don’t like this, Charlie. You sure she’ll be here?” 

Charlie clutches his hand in a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure she will. Right now, the Vees are flaunting her like an asset on that app. She’s practically the main face of it. She has to be here.” Her firm words were betrayed by her nervous glances around the room, not seeing you anywhere. 

Alastor followed from behind, staring directly ahead to the stage before his expression neutralises into a plastered smile.  

Charlie, uncomfortable without Vaggie as she was barred entry, kept her arms close to her body. Not wanting her to feel so exposed, Angel put an arm around her shoulders, encouraging her to try to relax, nothing was going to happen to the four of them, and Vaggie was safer out there than in here anyway. 

She looked purposefully at him, saying “I know, Angel, thanks. But it’s not us I'm worried about.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “I really think Alastor might start a fight in here. You saw how he was when the commercial aired... Honestly i don’t know which way it would go without Vaggie or dad here.” 

Angels rubs her shoulders, hiding his own similar concerns. Also whispering, he comforts her, “I know Charlie, i know. It can’t be too bad though, right? As long as we can get him to hold off long enough for us to persuade her to come back to the hotel, we should be fine.” 

She smiled at him, remembering their plan. Alastor stepped next to them, cocking his head. “May i be impartial to this discussion?” 

Charlie blinks. “We were just, uh, giving each other moral support. This is a lot, you know? I mean, what if she’s happy here and doesn’t want to come back? Or they own her soul or something? Or what if-” Alastor silences her with a finger pressing against her lips, shushing her. “Now now my dear, speculation is hesitation. We must abide only by facts. And as of now, we know she is alive, and i would say that is miracle enough.” 

Husk shrugs stiffly before complaining more about his gut feeling being off. The group is quiet, not disagreeing. 

The crowd clears enough to see the stage ahead; a large semi-circle of luminous plastic flooring, glowing spotlights and a singular pole in the centre. 

Angel laughs awkwardly, “I guess they must have got someone else to take the stage, they sure didn’t ask me.” 

Charlie and Alastor do not order anything, eager to keep their wits about them. Husk and Angel preferred to ease some of the nerves with a freshly opened bottle of beer each, watching the bartender closely to avoid being spiked.  

The music shifts to a flashy pop song with a breathy female voice and male backup vocals. The stage brightens as all guests look toward a wall of dry ice smoke filtering down the back wall like a waterfall. Emerging from behind the smoke, Vox, Valentino and Velvette stride out, welcoming the applause in the room. Charlie claps politely, unsure what to do, letting her hands drop when the others remained stoic. 

Velvette takes centre stage, announcing their arrival, “Welcome to the party, fuckers! This is the grand celebration for our new and improved app, formerly known as Voxbox. Say hello to the best shit you have ever subscribed to: VitalityV!” 

The room erupts as the lights spin and flip, releasing a cloud of confetti from the ceiling. Angel shrinks slightly, feeling dread pit in his stomach as Valentino meets his eyes with a lecherous grin.  

Valentino speaks next, “You all know how fucking hot we can get it in here. The Vee’s tower is the pinnacle of the sex, drugs, and sin of Pentagram City. I bet you thought we were inviting you to a platform where you can view and share explicit videos without filters. But who the fuck hasn’t got that already nowadays? We have something a little different.” He looks to Velvette to continue speaking.  

“The VitalityV is more than a social media platform, it’s a self-improvement exercise tool. Our success has thrived on the techniques we know WORK, and we think it’s time to share that shit with you, our people.” 

Vox steps forward, cocky. “The best way we can help uplift our citizens of Hell is to ensure you are all well supported, nurtured and encouraged to learn and grow. Hell is no longer a place of suffering and stagnation; we, the Vees, are rising above that. VitalityV brings you video after video of our very own guidance to bring you the power to become who you were always destined to be.” 

Charlie and Angel look at each other, shocked. None of them expected this.  

The Vees continued, marketing their newly branded app for a few more minutes before bowing to a cocophany of applause. The guests seemed genuinely thrilled to be wanting to improve themselves? Isn’t this what the Hazbin Hotel has been fighting for them to do for a couple of years? Where was this reception then, Charlie mused angrily. Alastor placed a hand on her shoulder, seeing the rage building. He gives her a stern warning glance with his eyes, startling in comparison to his usual wide grin. She shakes his hand off and continues to watch the Vees. 

The Vees disperse among the crowd, talking to guests, networking their product.  

 They try to avoid the Vees as much as possible, especially Valentino. They bump into a few people they know from Hell, making distracted small talk until the conversation fizzles out. Alastor barely utters a word, even when asked direct questions.  

Vox is stood by the stage, schmoozing a couple of near-overlord level power players. He meets Charlie’s gaze and raises his martini to her. She panics, giving an incredibly awkward fake smile, bearing her teeth with a nervous wave. He returns to his potential investments, sweet talking with eyebrows raised. 

Charlie covers her eyes with one hand, embarrassed, while Angel laughs sarcastically, “smooth.” 

Husk keeps distracting Angel to keep him occupied. Valentino was focused on making him uncomfortable, successfully. 

Alastor suddenly growls, low and angry. The others spin to see Vox only a metre away, hands behind his back, swinging on his heels as he greets Alastor with false cheer. “You made it, excellent. I was worried you would miss the main event. Have you had a particularly hard time with the loss of your dear friend, Al?” 

Barricading his emotions behind a shield of humour, Alastor laughs vigorously, swatting a hand in the air. “Oh, no! Not at all! You know how i do enjoy a good murder mystery, especially when it remains a mystery. It was quite a disappointment to see her pop back up alive and well. Ruins the intrigue, don’t you think?” 

Vox’s immediate scowl betrayed his facade. “You honestly don’t give a shit about her? Not one?” He raises an eyebrow, smirking. 

He responds casually, eyes slightly narrowing. “If i were to care for the lives of every fallen sinner in Hell i wouldn’t have time for my radio show.  Now that would be a great shame.” 

Vox snickers, seeing through the deflection. He figured it was time to start riling up the old-timey bastard. 

Vox straightens his posture and locked eyes with each of the other Vees before staring back at Alastor, unnerving the Hazbin group. “Alas, if you don’t really care then maybe your time here is wasted. Still, i hope you enjoy the show... It’s all thanks to you.” His savage grin hints at his sadistic meaning. 

Not making any further remarks, Alastor stared him down as the Overlord closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. The room tinted a few shades darker, highlighting the stage ahead. Dry ice filtered from the ceiling again, creeping across the stage as a new song began. 

They froze, hearts stopping in tandem as you walked out onto the stage.  

POV: Onto the stage 

You had no idea if they were there. You assumed they would be, yet you kept your eyes fixed on the stage floor. Vox had made you learn how to dance in stilettos without Alastor’s magic supporting you. It took immense focus to remember the moves to a dance you had given up learning. Once you were this high, you just had to wing it. The Vees were happy enough with the routines you improvised over the last few days. They honestly didn’t care too much; as long as you looked good, didn’t fall over, and made Alastor furious then you had done your job. 

POV: The dance 

Angel gently let out a cry, saying “oh god no, oh god. What the fuck has he done to her.” His eyes were wide with pinpointed irises, an exact mirror of Alastor’s horrified expression. 

Their human friend from the hotel, who they promised to protect and look after, was doped out of her shit in stilettos and a tiny black stripper set. Not an inch of her exposed body was unharmed. The bruises ranged in colour, mostly soft yellows and oranges, with some more vibrant fresh purples and reds. Long scratches etched down every limb, criss-crossing and tracing down every extremity. Her neck was partially hidden by a black choker with a glowing pendant, not wide enough to cover the still fairly fresh bite and scratch marks. Her eyes were unfocused and wide as saucers, unseeing anything beyond the pole. She threw herself into impressive moves, showing off her strength, but there was no passion, no tease, just empty expressions and seductive poses.  

The song reached the second chorus, the energy in the room building. Vox stood at the foot of the stage and looked back over his shoulder, eyeing Alastor. The evil prick lingered his glare for a few seconds before using a finger to gesture to the dancer. Obeying, she swayed her hips as she slowly stepped towards him, kneeling into a crawl as she got near. He stood at the stage, hands on hips. She swung her legs around to straddle Vox, squeezing her thighs suggestively at his hips while leaning back, part of the dance. She ran her hand up his torso, lifting herself back up with an arch in her spine, looking dully with a slightly parted mouth at the Overlord’s screen. He reached up, held her neck and kissed her, slipping something in her mouth with his.  

Releasing her to continue the dance, she lifted her legs to roll into a crawl and dance on the stage floor in front of him, as if it were one of his private dances, slow and suggestive. She braced a foot as she stood, wobbling slightly in the heels, collecting herself as she danced towards the pole and began throwing herself into moves again. She slid down the pole with both hands wrapped around it, knees bending into a slut drop. The drug Vox gave her trickled down the side of her lip. Red, like blood, but with a pink residue. Valentino’s potion. Her eyes rolled as she performed the final moves, beginning to struggle with the loss of focus. The song ended with her dramatically dropping to her knees with the gyrating of her hips on the stage floor. Her head hung forward, breathing hard. The audience applauded enthusiastically, multiple wolf-whistles and cheers heard from across the room.  

Angel didn’t realise he was crying. Husk took his hand, also devastated. The two stared at the shell of the powerful, fierce friend they once knew. 

Charlie couldn’t move as she watched the performance, barely able to breathe. She was shaking, from anger and shock. 

Alastor looked like he was in agony. He clung to his smile like a lifeline, the corners of his lips trembling. He was assessing every single mark on her. Every way Vox had hurt her. Vox had massacred every part of her body he once touched. The thought was excruciating. How long had she been suffering like this?  

She finally lifted her head, rolling it slightly. She made it to her feet, stepping as carefully as she could in the state she was in, off the stage. A servant came to touch up her makeup, removing the dripping potion from her chin. She was shaking her head as if trying to clear it, her movements disjointed and unsteady. Angel tried to go near her, to be with her. Two stocky bodyguards blocked him almost immediately. “Please, she’s my friend. I need to see her, just for a minute. Please, let me in!” 

Valentino came up behind him, grabbing his forearm, whispering, “now Angel Dust, you know the rules. No touching the dancers unless you’re paying for it. Besides, she belongs to Vox now.” 

His eyes darted between Valentino and her. “Vox did this? The bruises?” 

“Lovebites, essentially. He’s not a gentle lover, i can attest to that.” 

Angel felt sick. He’d hurt her in so many ways. The worst thing was... it was like looking into a mirror of his past, before he met Charlie. This was him. High as fucking shit, dancing for a master who assaulted him beyond care nor measure. He let out another cry as the tears welled again. Valentino savoured the sight, admiring Vox’s handiwork. He’d outdone himself this time, he thought. Absolutely wrecked the little hotel demons to their core. 

Charlie pulled Angel out of Valentino’s hands, defending him. The Overlord immediately growled at her, furious at the disrespect. Angel didn’t even care, He was too focused on trying to bargain his way through the guards. 

POV: executing the plan 

You swayed slightly as the heels stung. The narcotics barely cushioned how much they were hurting your feet. You’d already performed, surely now you could just sit down. Maybe take something to help you relax a little more. 

Every so often you realised your eyes were closed. It didn’t matter. Being awake didn’t matter right now. You wanted to sleep so, so badly. 

You felt like you were hallucinating, hearing Angel’s begging voice. You didn’t even look up. It didn’t matter. Valentino still had his contract. You couldn’t help him. 

The assistant cleaning you up took your elbow and started to lead you to the back door. 

You didn’t make it three steps closer to the door before thick black tentacles sliced through the air, slamming the door shut and blocking your way. Alastor. He must be here, you pondered, not able to focus on what that meant.  

The room silenced immediately, the music cutting off abruptly. Thank God, it was giving you a headache.  

“DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE.” 

You turned, stumbling, to figure out where the disembodied voice came from. Near the front of the stage, in thick clouds of black air and vivid green stitches across his mouth and hands, Alastor glared at you. It took a long moment for you to notice the ring of people surrounding him with guns pointed at him, Valentino included. Angel was held off to the side by Charlie, blocking him from Alastor’s lashing out.  

Vox laughed, maintaining the power in the room. “Oh, you want to act like you care? Pity. Perhaps you should have cared more when you left her for dead, bleeding out in the street.” 

“I searched! For days i-” a gun pressed into his throat, cutting him off. His eyes shrunk even further into pinpricks, furious. 

“Alastor, you’re embarrassing yourself. Everyone knows you don’t actually care about anyone except yourself. Not even the poor souls you claim to help rehabilitate in that little hotel of yours, Charlotte.” 

Her demon form took over as she fought back, shouting “he does care! He helped protect the hotel when no one else would! He’s the reason we had all the cannibals supporting us, why we had time to fight off the angels while he took on Adam. He’s far braver than you will ever be, coward!” 

He grins back, unphased. You know they’re falling right into Vox’s plan, taking the bait. Your head swirls as you remember something, you were supposed to say something? To... activate something? What the hell was it? 

Velvette spoke next; striding next to Vox, she faced Charlie with a cocky smile. “Bold of you to assume the hotel is anything less than an advantage in his sick game. Why do you think we’re creating this app? The hotel doesn’t work, because it’s being sabotaged by your own fucking bellhop!”  

Alastor went to speak, quickly silenced by two guns cocking and the barrel against his neck digging in. 

“You’re lying, Alastor is one of us, he believes in us!” 

Many eyes dart to Vox, who is making beeping noises on his smart watch. Your mind starts to clear a little as you realise he’s making his big move. Concentrate for fuck’s sake, focus. This is important, you know it. The cloudiness is just too strong for you to remember why. If only you hadn’t taken that pill off Vox. The kiss. God, his awful, forceful kisses. You hated this, hated everything he’d made you do for so long. All you wanted was to be back at the hotel, whether they wanted you or not. Whether Alastor wanted you or not. Your mind fog dissipates for long enough to realise what you’re thinking. It’s not about whether Alastor wants you, it’s that you need him, whether it’s to save or be saved by him. His human and demon side, both two sides of the same coin, a man incapacitated by years of abuse becoming so incredibly powerful to protect something so vulnerable inside. That was the key, you remembered now. 

The watch brightens as a holograph appears, showing an audio file with numbers for the title. You already know what’s coming. Your face scrunches as you try to remain lucid. He presses play, revealing a playback of the conversation with Rosie, discussing how futile the Hazbin Hotel is. A short fragment, but damning enough to condemn the Radio Demon. Charlie stares, aghast, looking directly at a cornered Alastor. His eyes meet hers, petrified of his own words being used against him. 

Vox swipes, revealing the next snippet of their chat. Alastor and Rosie laughing about how much of a pain it is to have Lucifer around, with him getting in the way of Charlie’s dependence on Alastor.  

Every single face was watching the Radio Demon’s destruction. This was the perfect trap. A massive audience, with no way to escape. Evidence clear as day. 

Charlie spoke, barely above a whisper, “is this real, Alastor? Do you really not care, at all, about the hotel? About us?” 

You watched Alastor, seeing the Radio Demon form shrink. He looked so young. There was no power there, no manipulation. Just fear. Fear that no one and nothing could save him. It came full circle, the same fear birthing a serial killer was what signified his demise. 

He still wasn’t allowed to speak, a firing squad at his neck. 

You were there this time though. 

“You’re lying, Vox” 

Your voice carries, pivoting hundreds of eyes your way. 

“Ex- excuse me? Are you feeling alright, you look a little confused...” Vox appraises you, enraged. 

Your speech is slightly slurred, but clear enough to make out the words. You slice through the velvet on your choker, metaphorically breaking his control. 

“You’re lying. You didn’t make this app. I did. I have been running this mess for so long. You lie and lie and lie, it’s Vox, Vox, Vox, Vee this and Vee that, like you had shit to do with this-” you gesture wildly at the gala, “and you want to lie again, to take out the competition. It won’t work this time Vox. I can prove you’re lying. You’re not in control of the system... thing. I can prove it.” Your head sways as you grimace through the high, feeling nausea and bile rising.  

The Vees are glaring at you furiously, not expecting your outburst. You look at Alastor, still terrified, his eyes pleading for help. 

“Computer... activate... trojan.... keywords: I Love You, Alastor”

 

The room erupted into disarray. Lights fizzed, spasms and bursts of rays distorting the view as sprinklers went haywire. The sound of doors slamming open and shut like guillotines crashed with the rhythm of screeching and jumping speakers. Guests screamed, sheltering from the onslaught of senses. A couple of shots fire towards the ceiling as people panic. You drop to your knees, praying they take this opportunity to run. You’re far too gone to try to get out. You just want to sleep. 

Thick arms grab you, wrenching your body out towards the moonlight. Not arms, tentacles? The tower is in chaos. Still wrapped tightly, you’re facing the Vee’s building, watching the floors flash and burst with sporadic lights like a rave, filled with high pitched screams and glitching music screeching loudly.  

You make a pretty dramatic exit as well as entrance, apparently. 

POV: nursing through the withdrawal 

The news of the sabotaged Vee gala had spread like wildfire across the Pride ring. Rumours about the Vee’s big move being taken apart from the inside lingered in the articles.  

Vaggie and Lucifer were ready, waiting nearby in case of emergency. The spasmodic lighting and musical screeching seemed a pretty good indication that things had just gone wrong. Guests sprinted from the entrance, escaping the pandemonium. Charlie ran out, holding Angel’s arm, followed closely by Husk and Alastor, who had a body hitched over his shoulders, held on by thick black limbs from his back. Lucifer ran forward, meeting them, helping shield them from bullets that began to fly their way. He opened a portal back to the hotel with a blaze of golden light. 

Inside, Alastor lowered you to the lounge sofa. They could see you were fighting the drug-induced cloud, still trying to focus enough to process whether this was real or a hallucination. None of the words you uttered made any sense together.  

Angel explained you had probably overdosed a little, enough to make you lose your grip but not enough to do serious internal damage, hopefully. He said your symptoms would be much worse if it had, especially for a human. 

The group fumbled, disorganised, trying to help in some way, while Angel kept reiterating that coming down from opioids like this wasn’t a quick fix, and that you would be a wreck for the next few days while you wean off the dependency. He gave advice about having a rotational shift to watch over you, like Cherri did for him when he overdosed. He listed the basic self-care needs you wouldn’t be able to manage, like drinking water, eating, bathing, walking to the toilet. You’d need help with everything, to an extent.  

Angel began to organise a roster for watchers when Alaster glowered, stating this was his responsibility and trusted no one else. They could help bring you things if it was needed, but he would ensure you remained safe and stable until you were capable of basic functions.  

“Alastor... what happened at the tower.... I’m so sorry i didn’t see through them. I know they’re full of shit, i really should have challenged them. It just sounded so real, like an actual recording of you talking. I’m sorry, Al.” Charlie came over and hugged him tightly, crying gently as he patted her head, unsure how to respond. Obviously, he HAD said those things. The recording was genuine. It was you who'd lied to save him, to save his bonds with the hotel. After everything you’d suffered, you’d still chosen to lie for his life. He felt sorrow and regret stronger than anything since his Maman was killed. He’d do better this time; he would stay by you until you were healed. No one would harm you while he stood watch. He reiterated this vow as he carried you, still moaning softly from the nausea, to your bedroom. Angel walked around his side, drawing the quilt back from the bed for Alastor to place you in. The last time he was there with you...  

Angel continued to list things to remember. You wouldn’t be able to regulate your temperature properly during the withdrawal, so keep checking the skin and either adding or removing layers. You needed regular bathroom breaks, probably without realising, so every few hours he’d need to walk or carry you to the bathroom. You probably won’t want to eat or drink, but small sips of water through a straw might be manageable. Loose clothing, easy to change in and out of. A lot of the initial sleep period might actually be loss of consciousness, so keep checking pulse and breathing. Keep talking to you when you’re awake, encouraging the mind to fight off the emotional turmoil. It was alarming to everyone how familiar Angel was with this whole scenario.  

The last few hours of the night passed and broke through into a dull grey morning.  

The ambient light began to spread in the room. Your body trembled, first only mild, then became an aggressive shivering and rocking. Pain etched on your face, all you could do was rock while Alastor panicked, trying to soothe you and look for ways to help. The pain was on the inside, burning and contorting. Alastor felt helpless, begging for Angel to think of anything to take the pain away. He couldn’t. He reminded Alastor that this was a recovery process called ‘cold turkey’, severing the dependency at its root. It was going to be fucking agony, and all they could do was help you survive it in the meantime. 

Hour by hour, Alastor made checks. He watched clocks, ensuring you were taken to the bathroom regularly, even if you didn’t need it. He’d leave you in there until listening to your cries through the door got too much.  

He tried to offer water, bringing it to your lips. He wasn’t even sure you were aware of his presence. The violent shivers and convulsions just kept coming until you would pass out again. 

Once, he tried lowering you into a tepid bath to help wash off some of the sweat. He didn’t dare remove your bed gown, too afraid to see more of the marks left across your body. The water, though barely lukewarm, had eased some of the discomfort. Right up until you’d noticed Alastor leaning over you, supporting your head above water. Dissociative from the pain and blindingly terrified, your screams had brought half the hotel running in. In the end, Vaggie and Cherri had to help finish bathing and changing you; anyone male triggered off the same petrified response. 

Intermittently, someone would come to check to see how you were doing, or if Alastor needed anything. He declined offers for his own needs, focusing solely on his ward. 

The next day became slightly easier as loss of consciousness became regular sleep. Alastor sat on the mattress, still observing for signs of deterioration. In all his years, he’d never fought to keep someone alive like this. It felt strange. Human. 

He noticed the pain easing fractionally by that evening. You had accepted water, sipping greedily, much to Alastor’s relief. You still couldn’t tolerate food, however had at least stopped dry heaving and retching up bile. 

In rotation, the Hazbin Hotel staff would periodically bring supplies, initially just for you; until they noticed he hadn’t left the room at all, only drinking water if a glass was left out for him, though he never asked. 

They started bringing him meals and snacks they knew he liked. He initially tried to refuse, then saw the kindness behind it. Even after stabbing them in the back, this little band of misfits cared for him as one of their own. Niffty came in a few times to hug into Alastor’s lap, trying to keep him company. When she started to get talkative he would clear her from the room to stop her disturbing you. 

The third day was the first that you had sat up on your own; such an incredibly small milestone bringing joy to your guardian.  

POV: Embracing the withdrawal 

---------------------- 

“She’s going through withdrawal, you gotta let her body get through it.” 

“She’s in pain! Help her!” 

“I’m sorry, but nothing will fix this but time and care. You gotta just ride it out. I’ve been there. She’ll be ok, just give her time.” 

----------------------- 

“How’s she holding up? 

“Not great, she....” 

-------------------------- 

“Has she had any water?” 

“i keep offering, she keeps pushing it away. She���s in too much pain. Is there nothing we can give?” 

------------------------- 

“Has she slept any more? She looks a little better today. A little less baggy under the eyes. She must be starting to recover, now?” 

“She is. She’s fighting it. You were right, it just takes time.” 

“You need anything? Water, snacks?” 

“No thank you.” 

------------------------ 

You only made out snippets of conversation between waves of agony. Your body twisted and rocked beyond your control, your head caving in on itself. Your stomach heaved, sending your vision into stars and blurs. 

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by. All you could do was count in your head, fighting for sanity to keep from screaming. You would count the seconds going by. Count your breathing. Count the dots in your vision. It would work briefly. Intense waves of pain made it impossible to maintain control. You often felt your throat vibrate as you moaned, clutching your body. Voices seemed so far away. One voice was consistently there though, every time you did manage to focus on it, it was always Alastor answering questions about you to whoever came in to check. You would feel your body lifted and brought to the bathroom; more often than not you were too dehydrated to urinate, but there was always a need to retch. Whether it was dry or bile, the change in position from bed to bathroom brought on another round. 

More senses beyond the pain became easier to tolerate processing. You differentiated the light through cracking your eyelids open, vaguely telling if another night or day had passed. Hunger growled in your belly. You tried to accept a bite of something brought to your lips; not even swallowing yet, the retching began. The first sip of water you managed felt like drinking from an oasis. You wanted to cry with relief, but no tears came. You occasionally noticed your teeth chattering from the shivers, yet you were so overheated. Then, freezing cold, desperately reaching for a blanket that would magically appear on you. 

You started to feel the difference between passing out and falling asleep. Sleep felt softer, slipping away from the cruel battering of your recovery. Each time you awoke was slightly better.  

It was a long journey to being able to control your mind and body. At least a couple of days had passed. Waking to a pounding headache, but a far less suffering body, you sighed in relief. An end was in sight. You eased yourself up onto your arm gradually, pushing at a sloth’s pace into an upright position, leaning on your left arm. Forcing your eyes open, you carefully breathe, keeping nausea and days of hunger at bay. You notice the pointed shoes to your right; you track your eyes upwards, rising to meet his face. “Alastor,” you squeak out, struggling with a parched throat, “you’re still here?” 

He looks absolutely thrilled, genuinely over the moon. You have no idea why. He brings a metal straw in a cup to your lips, leaning over you. Before you were shot, this would have probably excited you. Right now, it sent chills down your spine. You gulp down as much as you can, holding a fist to your mouth to stop the round of nausea that followed. 

He stayed, every day, every hour for the next two days. He barely speaks, only when asked a question by you or a visitor. Anyone who came to see you looked so happy to see you doing better. You must have looked like a fucking wreck then. Superb. 

You realise your mind is working more like normal now, sarcastic thoughts and wandering through memories. Your new normal, anyway. You were concerned with how different it felt being here; it wasn’t the safe, cosy haven you recall. You felt like you had to analyse every interaction, monitor every move, track behaviours. They all seemed so genuine. It must have been a trap. No other logical answer came to mind. 

On what Alastor says was the sixth day, you managed to walk on your own, under his direct supervision, to the kitchen. You had been able to stomach small bites, the sickness fading as you recovered. You might as well have told them you cured cancer for how uncontrollably elated they were seeing you come downstairs like this. 

Growing exhausted, you were picked up without asking, carried to bed by an overprotective demon. 

[cannot-decide-on-a-fandom]

https://www.tumblr.com/cannot-decide-on-a-fandom/754552911759114240/i-dont-think-ive-ever-seen-a-fanbase-talk-so

Your preaching to the choir on this. Especially on twitter where it happens soo much. And it’s so baffling. Like they refuse to accept people can actually learn and grow and do better. And it’s not like he never apologized. He has multiple times. And he’s proven that he’s learned from it and grown from it. And I really don’t think people like Aisha, or Angela would say the positive things they have and continue to say about him if he hadn’t. It was very clear at the time how the cast felt about what happened and in regards to him. And it’s like completely opposite vibes now. And then the way people will say they think he’s so hot and such a good actor and good dad and so brave for talking about his mental health but yet censor his name the entire time is like 💀💀💀💀💀 what are you even doing. You look goofy as hell saying R*yan. Like 💀💀😂

Honestly I try so hard to stay out of saying potentially controversial stuff about real situations (characters are a bit more...I obviously won't tag the character in negative stuff but it's fiction and all) but this has been baffling me and I'm glad some people agree. I just don't understand censoring for this reason most of the time anyway to be honest? Like I heard there was a time when people would censor Oliver's name so he wouldn't see their tweets because he apparently lurked (which is so funny, this is not an Oliver Stark appreciation post but from what I've seen I have to acknowledge that, that man is so funny) and that I get. If you try and censor a name to avoid people finding the post, okay sure.

But censoring problematic or supposedly problematic people's names has somehow morphed and become just an easy out for people who like to talk about someone who has done something wrong in their past (ie-is a human being) without needing to confront what them loving them must mean. Because it's either "I truly think this person is bad but I don't care enough to not talk about them" or acknowledging the fact that it's possible for people to have done fucked up stuff and still be good people after (which seems to be a foreign concept to some people, especially when it comes to celebrities)

If a post is about negative stuff a person did, you can censor it if you want but surely the context would give away you don't support them, and if it's positive stuff, then if you genuinely truly think "this person is a bad person" then buddy you're still fucking saying good stuff about the same person, just because there's an asterix in it doesn't mean you're not.

The only time I really get this type of censoring is if listing a group of people and you wanna make it clear that you're listing them for specificity alone. For example a group photo where one person is shitty, and you're trying to refer to that picture so you list all the people in it, and it's easier to make it clear you think someone in it is a shitty person without needing to write a separate explanation (which I would honestly never expect anyone to...ever have to but it's the internet)

Anyway, this ended up being way longer of a reply than I intended (and I've had a few drinks) but hopefully it made sense. I guess I'll just finish by saying it's bad for people using screen readers too so I sort of think the accessibility of "Hey blind people should be able to be online too" should probably trump "I want everyone to know I'm a good person by hating this guy who did something messed up 5 years ago" (or other instances of similar things)

[tc-doherty]

You reblogged that Fantasy Ask Game, right? I'm assuming, because you sent me one.

I saw your post about Silverwood and you threatening to never shut up. I am calling your bluff. For Silverwood: I know the answer to Hero will be insane. And I'm also going to Wizard you.

Have fun!

@unclear-contributions

I did indeed reblog it and, the consequences of this are entirely on your shoulders.

Before I get started I just want to say that there is nothing metaphorical, allegorical, symbolic, or referential in Silverwood to connect it to any events, people, cultures, or what have you on earth. Certain actions are the same as certain actions taken in real world history but my characters use them for the same reason the people in our history used them, because they work. It doesn't mean one side is representing any specific people.

I am also leaving out a lot of background and explanation but this is already plenty long enough. If you want more information about anything, feel free to ask because as I said, I truly am capable of never shutting up about this.

That being said, here we go!

HERO - What makes someone a hero in this world?

In order to understand what can make someone a hero in this world, I need to set the context a little bit. In brief, a few hundred years before the start of the story the Emperor of Sanirra (Human) desired the wife of Lord Sereman (Drezhein) and sent people to kidnap her. This sparked off a brutal and bloody war between the two races which ultimately ended in a humiliating defeat for Sanirra. However, although the war technically ended, the conflict between the two races never stopped.

So, then, who's a hero in this context?

The cool and calculating Empress Lyris is a hero to her people even though after the death of her first husband she formed an alliance marriage with the current First Lord of the Drezhein, Seilez. She had three children with him, but none of them ever saw the throne as two of them died in ~tragic accidents~ and the third vanished under mysterious circumstances. Her marriage did usher in a brief era of peace, mostly, between the two races and she encouraged Drezhein to move to Sanirra…while at the same time passing restrictive policies that controlled their behavior.

Lord Seilez is a hero to most of the Drezhein who practically worship him because he is incredibly charismatic and they think that he's about to usher them into a new era of prosperity and civility. They are willing to follow his lead when it comes to relations with Sanirra and with his prompting, many of them do move there, despite the increasingly more restrictive laws.

This notably does not work on Ithea because she was basically raised in a cult so she recognizes bullshit when she sees it, and was the only person who was even curious as to why he was working with Lyris on these obviously harmful policies. Unfortunately she is not a hero to anyone because although she did initially have the support of some of the oldest Drezhein who hate Seilez, her actions are erratic and baffling. Before her death she is the most hated person in both countries. It's only much, much later that people begin to understand what she was doing and why.

The human descendants of Empress Lyris are also heroes to their people as they continuously flexed control over Sanirra AND Cylli (with Seilez's help) creating policies designed to drive the Drezhein into extinction. They can't do it with military might but they can by disrupting their culture, separating them from their families and allies, suppressing their language, interfering with their reproduction, so on and so on.

Ro, who lived a quiet life during generations two and three, is considered a hero in generation four because she is the person who figured out how to break and modify the magical trackers that the Sanirran government was putting on the Drezhein to facilitate their control. (Her siblings are so proud of her, she finally became a true Silverwood by breaking the law. Ro is irritated by this, but like her adoptive mother Ithea before her, she was driven to act in order to protect her grandchildren).

And Rona is considered a hero for inciting the Drezhein to result and ultimately leading the charge to toppling the governments of both Sanirra and Cylli!

Taking a break from that conflict for just a second, Empress Tristira is also considered a hero to her people for killing her tyrannical father and restoring order to their country of Daemirra, but that's a whole other kettle of fish with a whole other multi-generational history.

So there's lots of conflict, and there are lots of heroes and villains on both sides!

WIZARD - Who is your favourite character in this WIP? Describe them!

Ithea is turning 20 this year! She's one of my favorite characters I've ever created, and has also been with me through the worst periods of my life. Even aside from that, she's just so much fun. She's complicated. She's arrogant, and she's violent, but she's also cunning and eloquent. She wants what she wants and she does everything to get it, but the things that she chooses to focus on make no sense to anyone else, and that's the way she likes it. She's incredibly glamorous, and also brutal and manipulative and unpredictable. I love her!

Aside from the obvious, I really do have a lot of feelings about Cyan Silverwood who, compared to the rest of her siblings, is not a particularly important character. She has intensely public persona styled somewhat after the glamour of her adopted mother, but she's a very private person and even her siblings don't know much about what she thinks about anything. Anthem and Ithea, one might say, were not particularly good parents. All of the other kids managed to move on and became well-adjusted and had families of their own. But Cyan ended up being put in a position in the past that she has never been able to move on from. After Ithea died, Anthem became increasingly violent and erratic. Cyan asked for help from other adults in their life but didn't end up receiving it and ultimately had to kill her father to protect her siblings. They don't know about that. No one knows about that. But Cyan was incredibly close to her father and although she did what she had to do, it's very difficult for her to live with it. We don't talk about her much but it doesn't mean I don't think about her a lot.

I also really love Ro because honestly she's just hilarious. She dropped out of school and ran away at 14, got married at 19, and lived her perfect little life with her farm and her community and her loving husband and their 10 kids, only to pick up the Silverwood mantle and commit treason much, much later in life. She honestly hates being connected to the Silverwoods. Although she likes her family, the fact that people always call her Ro Silverwood is a source of constant irritation. She just wants to leave her past behind her and be evaluated as her own person!

~Fantasy Ask Game~

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

First I gotta say that I love you and your work, it's incredible and I enjoy every post✨

My brother said that Qui-Gon and Luke are grey jedi and that Luke has a red lightsaber as backup or something like that. And I'm looking at him with mad side eye and just wanted to ask your opinion on it?

❤️❤️❤️ Aaaaaw, so sweet!!!!

... Wait, Luke has a red lightsaber? *furious typing* Ah, yes. It’s in like three Legends books, and therefore worthless. 

Just kidding - but here lies the first problem. What continuity is your brother even working with? Because you cannot - and I will die on this hill even though it’s just basic common sense, cannot - attempt to reconcile the Legends EU and Lucas’ vision for Star Wars into one cohesive universe. The characters don’t work, the themes don’t work, the timelines don’t work, the ideas don’t work. 

Here is a bit of an explanation on why I believe that to be the case, and the quotes backing it up, but basically, Lucas, Filoni and LucasFilms all confirmed that the extended universe was not to be considered on par with the movies and TCW in any way. I’m not saying this to criticize the EU itself, or to say people don’t have a right to find it immensely entertaining/meaningful. I’m saying this to explain why you cannot take pieces of the EU (yes, even the old EU) to try and contextualize the movies - unless Lucas/somebody on the creative team of a piece of ‘higher’ canon expressly admitted to having taken something directly out of Legends.

Now, is there such a thing as a “Grey Jedi” in the movies, or TCW? No, there isn’t, but we’ll come back to that. 

The second problem is the very definition of Grey Jedi. Depending on who you ask, what decades-old Legends book you go on from, Grey Jedi are either individuals capable of using both the Dark and the Light, or simply rogue Jedi. 

Breaking it down case by case: I - Are Luke or Qui-Gon rogue Jedi? II - Do Luke or Qui-Gon use both the Light and the Dark?

I (A) - Qui-Gon is characterized as a bit of maverick, but he is by no means a complete outlier to the Jedi. I’ll just drop these two very interesting posts here and here that are a bit off-topic but make some great points about Qui-Gon loving the Order and definitely identifying as part of it.  We get many, many instances of the Council itself approving of him. They overrule Yoda’s vote to not have Anakin trained, they still assign Qui-Gon very important missions like the one to Naboo, and they don’t pull him out of said missions when Qui-Gon shows up with a random kid he claims to be the incarnation of the Force itself. That is indicative of a high degree of trust, to say the least - so you can say that he is ‘rogue’ in the sense that he used to eff off to wherever to do his own stuff, but he never claimed to be anything other than a Jedi, he never left the Jedi, and he never criticized the Order in the movies or TCW (yes, you can check - he never once directly says anything about them being wrong for not doing things his way; just that he will do what he feels he must.)

"Tu-Anh was something of a maverick. Much like my own master, Qui-Gon Jinn. She would disappear for long periods, conducting rogue investigations. Her activities often unknown to even the Council." ―Obi-Wan Kenobi, to Jen June on Tu-Ahn[src]   

So yeah, rogue somewhat, but still a Jedi Master, trusted to the point that they would have had him on the Council had he chilled a bit. 

He also never does anything in the movies that sets him apart as oh-so-different from his fellow Jedi. Arguing with the Council? Everybody does that. Anakin does, Obi-Wan does, Yoda does, Ahsoka does, the younglings do - they argue with Obi-Wan in the Ilum arc. Being compassionate/nice to people? Check out the Disappeared, two entire episodes that have Mace befriending Jar Jar Binks. Here’s a list of instances of the Council being incredibly nice. Here, here and here is Mace being kind and compassionate. Qui-Gon liking Anakin? Here’s the Council and Anakin bantering. Here’s Yoda caring about Anakin. 

Again, Qui-Gon wanted Anakin trained as a Jedi, and trusted his straight(er)-laced Jedi Padawan with it in the end. There is nothing in the movies or the show saying Qui-Gon was completely separate from the Order, or in radical opposition to them.

I (B) - Luke is the Order reborn, so he cannot be rogue, as the only thing he can measure himself against is himself. There is no longer a standard to be rogue in comparison to. Considering the state of the galaxy when he becomes a Jedi, Luke simply cannot function in the same way the Jedi who came before him did, but that doesn’t say anything about a rejection of the values of the PT Order. What it means to be a Jedi - being kind and compassionate, being in control of yourself, seeking peace before violence - is embodied by Luke. Furthermore, Luke loves Yoda and Obi-Wan - the quintessential Jedi characters - deeply, and finds much of his identity in being a Jedi. 

“I am a Jedi, like my father before me” would be a really weird line if Luke actually meant “but like, not a Jedi like those Jedi. I’m a me-Jedi. A not-like-them-Jedi.”

I can’t make this into a Luke meta, because it’d be too long, but I don’t get the idea that Luke could represent a rogue Jedi when, at the time of his creation, he was the one and only embodiment of an active Jedi Knight we got to see. Like, what were we supposed to compare him to to determine he was rogue/doing things ‘better’? 

Luke’s story is about becoming a Jedi and getting his father to become a Jedi again as well. That story makes little narrative sense if he’s supposed to be defined in opposition to the rest of the Jedi (that, at this point in time, we didn’t know) as instead of being defined as one. 

And again, the Jedi of old display just as much compassion and kindness as Qui-Gon or Luke.

-

II - No, Luke and Qui-Gon don’t use both the Dark Side and the Light, because that’s literally not how the Force works - and don’t take my word for it: here’s Lucas explaining it in details. You don’t get to do both. The Dark is selfishness. You can’t be selfish and selfless and the same time. You can’t crave power and holding innocent people’s lives as more important than even your own.

The words “light side” were never uttered in the movies and only really appear in the Mortis arc, and I dare anyone to claim they truly understand everything about it beyond “it’s a microcosm of the Galaxy/the whole Star Wars saga.” The Jedi never claim adherence to a “light side,” they say they seek balance. The idea that balance is 50% evil and 50% good is baffling to me and I blame the SWTOR video games and their in-game mechanics. (Look, if I pour 50% poison into my sugar when I’m making a cake, everybody is still dead in the end. And if I slaughter only half of the people I’ve got it for and forgive the other half, I’m still creating that many circles of hatred and revenge.)

-

Finally - if Luke or Qui-Gon were meant to be “Grey Jedi” Lucas would have called them that. It’s not the case. It’s not anywhere in the movies or TCW, hence, it’s not what he intended. They can be interpreted this way, but it’s still not what the movies where trying to say. 

[retvenkos]

not asking you who you'd ship me with in the grishaverse because at this point everyone on tumblr knows the answer to that probably (though any chance of getting more of your wonderfully divine headcanons about matthias & I is a chance I gleefully take), but since you are shipping everyone I have to tell you that I've been thinking about Mal & you together for a little while. I just see it so clearly??

I think you'd have a relationship quite like Alina and Mal's, except healthier and less dramatic lol. but Mal is the epitome of friends to lovers and to me you embody exactly that. you're not the unbridled fury that enemies to lovers can be nor the bittersweet inevitability of soulmates, but really this idea of familiarity and comfort that you only unlock after spending a lot of time with a person, probably in childhood. Mal would represent exactly that to you: home, family, and love, and you're not really sure how or when you realize that it's not the same love you used to feel at Keramzin, that your feelings have shifted in the most terrifying yet beautiful way, but they have.

so in this scenario if you are Grisha, you get tested and your powers found out and you get sent to the Little Palace and your goodbyes with Mal are probably the most tearful moment Ravka has ever seen. You're holding on to Mal for dear life because he's really your family and you don't want to leave him behind, they're taking you to an unknown place without him, and you're so scared - but Mal tries to hold it all together because he has to be strong for you, and promises he will write to you every day and you will never truly be separated because he'll find you when he's older and strong.

(as soon as the carriage leaves he locks himself in the dormitory and cries all evening on his bed because your absence is so loud in these silent halls)

Inevitably years pass as you continue your training and Mal's letters become more scarce - sometimes you're the one who forgets to reply for a whole month, sometimes it's him - until you're not in touch anymore but you don't forget him, you never do, and you dream of him so often and all the words you wish you could tell him but never got the courage to

Until one day, almost a decade later, he is received at the Grand Palace for a particularly triumphant feat of his (Mal, always the hero) and the King wants to meet the First army soldier everyone is talking about, and you happen to run into him as he's trying to find his way to the audience room (because how stupidly huge are these Os Alta palaces, really?) And you literally can't believe your eyes.

so you'd be getting the childhood friends to lovers reunited after losing contact for many years which is TOP TIER romance

and Mal has changed obviously but not so much, and so have you; and he's taken aback by your beauty in your purple Kefta, and suddenly all the petty and insulting stereotypes about the Second Army he used to joke about with his regiment friends leave his mind because Saints - who needs a Sun Summoner when you're glowing like all the stars in the sky?

you'd quickly fall back into your common habits because they never left you, they're second nature at this point - Mal has basically forged your personality from the youngest age and you have his, and you fit together so perfectly

he'd be assigned to a more permanent post in Os Alta thanks to his prowesses in battle, maybe as the King's personal guard, meaning you'd get to spend so much time together

People would raise eyebrows at the sight of a couple between the two rival armies, but you don't care one bit - your love for Mal runs in your blood much deeper than arbitrary oppositions based on foolish pride.

If you're not Grisha, I don't think you'd join the First Army; war is probably not for you. I think your paths would separate too when he joins the Army and you leave the orphanage with what little money you saved over the years (sneaking out of Keramzin and reciting or singing your poems on the streets for a little bit of coin, or selling the meat and fur Mal would hunt for you) to move to a bigger city and try to do something with your life. You could be an artisan, or another kind of shopkeep! I can see you being manually gifted and creative, so you'd probably have an artsy business in the capital, like pottery or tapestry or painting on porcelain or something of the sort

and once again Mal is called to Os Alta probably for the same reasons - he just can't help distinguishing himself in combat, can he? - and he steps into your shop by total chance, and he's like. Olive???? Since when do you do sculptures???? And you're like. Malyen Oretsev???? Since when are you taller than me????

(Though the sculpture part doesn't surprise him that much, because you were always so creative and gifted in the arts, and he's always admired you so much for it.)

(But the TALL part??? ok, you are short, but you left him when he was like, thirteen and he was Not That Tall. how can your forever friend have grown that tall so fast???)

And so you ALSO get the long-lost childhood friends rekindle and fall back in love trope because my heart goes mushy for it ❤

your dynamic would be on point, because Mal knows you better than anyone and so he can read you like an open book. Either when he needs to find the teasing comment that will get you all riled up, or when he senses your discomfort or sadness and has to find the words to cheer you up.

You'd just make so many sweet memories with Mal, and he'd be down for every single thing you want to do as long as he gets to spend time with you. Want to be rambunctious on the streets of Os Alta and pull pranks on passerbys like you are 8 again? Yep, can totally do that. Feel like breathing in the fresh air of the wilderness and getting out of town to see a beautiful sunset, like you would in Keramzin? Of course! Just want to chill together doing your own thing and relishing in each other's presence? Absolutely.

he loves when you read to him, whether that be a book you own or a story straight from your imagination that you just wrote, and he's absolutely mesmerized by your voice and how much emotion you put in it. (though he can't help himself from making little jokes every now and then or trying to guess what will happen next in the story because he's what my mom calls a Culo Inquieto™)

you'd generally be such a cute couple who never lost that mischievous but oh so comforting and familiar spark from when you were kids, and is willing to stay with the other through thick and thin. you've found your other half in each other and I'm so soft for that. 💜💜

sorry I rambled but I just think that idea is so cute and you deserve a ship! (also, don't even get me started on the Chaos BFF Duo you would make with Jesper...) my head is killing me so I won't write any more but just know I hold this ship in extremely high regard. <3

clara, i will have you know i waited until i got ice cream in order to read this, because i knew it would be an experience™ and now, i,,, 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 i'm so goddamn soft, how dare you make me yearn????

you mean to tell me you came up with all of this... for me? you think of ships for me??? how—how dare? how dare you be such a good friend, to the point where i am baffled by your kindness??? how dare you be this thoughtful and poetic,,,,,,, and just, big brained, ma'am.

because all of this is so perfect!!!! ohmygod i'm soft. i'm in love. everytime you write a ship or fanfic, i sincerely wish i was a romantic like you so i could have a proclivity toward fathoming such soft romantic scenes,,,,, you, clara, know how to do a ship™.

(also, i have to say i love the childhood friends torn apart, only to come back together,,,, it has laughter lines by bastille energy,,,, listen to this song and tell me it doesn’t have the same vibes that that very specific and heartwarming trope,,,)

but, since you gave me such a beautiful gift, and since i would do anything for you, here are some more headcanons for you and matthias:

first of all, i think that you and matthias would spend a lot of time finding the beauty in small things. i think that it would be good for him, since he’s reevaluating who he is and his place in this grand world, and i think since you’re a romantic, small things would be important to you both.

— for example, you guys definitely star gaze together. it’s hard, since you are in ketterdam and the smoke is impossible to see through, but maybe you guys leave ketterdam for a while, and you spend a lot of time looking up at the stars. matthias loves to learn about everything you know, and repositioning himself underneath the sky is a good start to figuring out who he is. 

— you also like to sit by the water and talk. there’s something about the water that pulls memories from you both. matthias talks about what it was like, far away, in his little village before the drüskelle. (i get the feeling his dad was a fisherman or something,,,, the vibes are there), and you get to talk about people you once knew, dreams you once had. point is, you do a lot of talking - swapping stories and hopes.

— oh! another idea i can’t get out if my head is that matthias asks you so many questions. i feel like it’s a sign of real love and trust, when matthias starts asking you questions, because you have to be like,,, level 50 in order for matthias to admit weaknesses, and one of his biggest is that there’s so much he just doesn’t know. i think you also get really good at just,,,, telling him stuff so that he doesn’t have to ask, and he really just appreciates it.

i also just love the idea of matthias giving you to strongest hugs, or tbh, just holding you, and it’s all because he’s the big, strong one™! you know he’s got a protector complex, so that kind of feeds into his hugs,,, just that intense need to protect you, but also, he’s deathly terrified of losing another person he cares about, so he clings. (but only when you’re alone. the drüskelle in him is too Proud, but if you hang onto him in public,,,, he’s not complaining, just getting used to it)

okay, but i got a little bit ahead of myself, because i didn’t even talk about when you guys first meet, and the whole dynamic that is that™

— so, clearly, you are bffs with nina, whether your a grisha or not, and since i want fluff oNLY we’re just going to pretend like helnik didn’t happen,,,,,, they’re just friends. anyway, she’s the first one to pick up on your feelings for matthias because a) heartrender, and b) you two are the best of friends, and she just knows.

— and so you know a lot of teasing ensues, and almost everyone gets in on it and constantly makes jokes about you and matthias,,,, sometimes while he’s right. there. you’re Mortified But Coping™ and you can’t imagine what is going on through matthias’ head, because there’s no way he can feel the same, right?

— wRONG, we’re all idiots when we’re in love, and no one is more of an idiot than matthias. he is definitely ~soft~ for you but refuses to let it show because (1) the dregs are crass and he doesn’t want to give them fodder, and (2) you seem very uncomfortable about this whole thing, and he doesn’t want to make it worse

after some time, the teasing dies down, because both of you are too boring to tease. it would be funny if one of you freaked out, but you’re just,,,, suffering in silence. boring. and besides, inej and kaz are way more funny to tease. have you seen the murder in both of their eyes whenever you mention anything??? scary, but golden.

for the most part, the jokes die off, and i think after the jokes stop, you and matthias become much more comfortable with one another, and it leads to so! many! good! moments! 

— did i ever tell you matthias is in love with your stupid humor? your enchanting laughter? you’re so infectiously light and it makes him feel like he’s walking on clouds or something,,,,, he’s enchanted by you, but doesn’t have the words to explain it. 

— you know he remembers all of the little things his dad used to say about his mom,,,, and he feels all of that awed respect and soft warmth for you, but what to do with it???? he can’t really remember what his parents would do - it’s been so long and cold without them, but he tries to remember, and it’s the little things he does. he’ll tell you something really sweet in fjerdan and you’re just like ??? but it doesn’t translate super well, so you’re just left with the way he said it, and it means the world (plus, if you really get the courage, you can ask nina to explain it,,,, fair warning though, she scoffs at it every time. because it’s fjerda, alright?)

— you definitely end up reading him some poetry. it’s all under the guise of him ‘learning about the beauty in other cultures’ but really, it’s just an excuse to read him romantic shu poetry (they really know how to do it, let me tell you). and you also end up telling him stories about your childhood and your life, and he finds your rambling so adorable. especially since he has seen your work on paper! he finds it so sweet that your mind is so full of life that it wants to go everywhere at once, and experience every possible detail.

— you definitely end up showing matthias his way around ketterdam, and he keeps all of your hastily drawn maps, and whenever he goes past a street corner, he remembers the way your eyes sparkled in the light of the streetlamps.

i definitely have the feeling that you confess your feelings first. matthias has been trying to get the courage to do it, but he just can’t, and one day you tell him late at night - when, for just a moment, the world is still and quiet, and you can’t hold in all that warmth in your chest. you’re a little shy about it, but so is he, and when he hears you confess, all he can do is smile, because you have all of the confidence and strength he wishes he had. and all that courage laced in his chest, he’s learned it from you.

that’s ll i got for now, but i believe in clara x matthais supremacy.

[tyrorexdmzapp]

The lost recut plans

Rather than just repost all old content or be a complete echo of my other posting spots, I figure I could take a small break and reveal new- or rather, unused content.

While I'm still doing a recut or retelling of The Origami King (after Mario Story Fruit Shake, of course, which is being worked on right now), I had prepared plans between 2017-2019 in case I changed my mind about not doing TOK Recut and doing it after all. I had alluded to this when TOK was first revealed with my thoughts on the first trailer, and I did consider waiting until I published TOK Retold and its EX Story. However, as it's been over two years was released, and it could be a while before Retold alone is fully published, I thought I could explain now.

So two things to explain first. One, these plans were written before certain feedback on the Mario RPG Central server in 2020, regarding CS Recut and a pal of mine's own separate recut of TOK. Therefore, some specific critiques are not amended in the initial plans for Recut 3. Second, like how CS Recut followed on certain plot elements from the fantopic Paper Mario Wonder Journey, these Recut 3 plans proposed following on from Mario Story Fruit Shake, especially certain "sensitive" plot elements. However, Mario Story Fruit Shake hasn't finished being uploaded yet, and with them those plot elements. Therefore, I will not be able to explain everything right now, and may have to skim around certain details. Just know that certain characters and plots would have returned for Recut 3's main story.

Now onto the main event.

Since these plans were written before TOK was even announced, I took an educated guess on what the theme of Modern Paper Mario 3 might be. My guesses were space, data, crafts and or some kind of printer theme. The reason was I suspected the current creative team's (lacking) mindset had deluded them into truly thinking Toads were the only friendly Mario species, and so may want Mario to leave the Mushroom World in a future game to get around that. (Funny enough, Ubisoft's Mario + Rabbids Sparks of Hope would end up doing just that.) The printer theme, meanwhile, was in assumption the devs would double down on the rather unpopular literal paper world angle. In the end, we got origami, so at best, the crafts and printer idea may have been useable.

I also assumed Things would return as the be-all end-all mechanic to do pretty much anything in the game. These plans posited renaming Things to something else, and having them run off a tertiary stat to regulate use of them. I don’t think I ever got to that stage of brainstorming WHAT to call them, though. TOK itself did the really stupid thing (and not in an admirable way) of making Things bosses, and only giving one thing an actual creative design. No, I’m not taking that back- I think the Legion of Stationary was the worst move the devs could have made, rendered even more baffling by the much more creative and interesting Vellumentals, Handaconda, and especially King Olly. At the same time, though, TOK removed Things as a lock-and-key mechanic, letting the Vellumentals handle the work infinitely. (Wow- even in gameplay, the Vellumentals trounce the Legion). Along with the Legion getting redesigns for TOK Retold (except one member), the Thing idea didn’t make it into TOK Retold’s plans either.

Another gameplay change would be the return of CS Recut’s mark system, where enemies on different sides would fight each other in addition to Mario. Since TOK only had Olly as villain and there isn’t really room to add a whole other side in the main story, that idea didn’t make it into TOK Retold’s reformulated plans.

Last on the pure gameplay side would be an EX Story, like what CS Recut got in reimagining Bowser’s role. There were three candidates for it- Perry (an individualized yet composited Goomba from various Paper Mario games), Luigi, or Peach. TOK itself has no alternate playable characters, merely explaining where Luigi was before he performs certain key functions, and Peach…she was not done justice in any sense of the word in the game, despite the entire reason the game was developed the way it was stemming from a dream one of the devs had. Regardless, while TOK Retold will have an EX Story, it won’t be for those three, especially Perry (due to the fantopic intending to follow yet push back more against the restrictions). Luigi does get intermissions, though, and Peach’s role is greatly expanded at least.

Next time, I'll talk more about what was in the pre-2020 plans for Recut 3.