#good!Proto AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redladydeath · 2 months ago

Text

Major leak discussion

Mfw I give Alastor and Vox more parallels without even realizing it

Okay, so ever since Prototype Vox was discovered, I've been slowly putting together this backstory for him and it's gotten... uh... long. Every section of this post was written at a different time, so you can track the development of this story as it goes on. Just wanted to share it again with the new additions included.

Alastor goes to speak with another overlord, trying to decide whether or not he should kill them. While there, he notices that said overlord has the most fascinating little toy/pet/jester. Such novel technology… he thinks he’ll take it, whether the overlord wants him to or not!

Alastor keeps Vox around because he’s cute and entertaining. As time goes on, a legitimate friendship starts to form as Alastor realizes that Vox is far more than meets the eye— tricksy, devious, and intelligent. He learns that before he arrived in Hell, Vox was a handsome, well-respected adult man, and he isn’t too keen on constantly being mistaken for a child and treated like a joke by other sinners. A pity he has to live like that… but it’s not like there’s anything to be done for it! And Alastor must say, he’s fond of his little picture box the way he is.

With Alastor’s guidance, Vox slowly accumulates knowledge and resources and discovers that he can modify his body. He jumps on the opportunity at once— he doesn’t want to live like this anymore, and he’ll do anything to be respected (or at least taken seriously) by other people again. Alastor disapproves but holds his tongue.

Time passes, and Vox changes more and more things about himself until he’s almost unrecognizable. He and Alastor get into arguments about it. It’s galling to Vox that Alastor keeps insisting he was better off in a form he hated. Mix all this together with the modernity and “morality”/standards stuff, and you eventually get Vox and Alastor falling out.

Years later, Vox hates that he was ever that weak and can’t stand being reminded of Alastor, their old relationship, or his early life in Hell. He works hard to destroy/bury any traces of who he used to be, but Alastor is a walking, eternal reminder of the past he’d rather forget. Alastor is loathe to admit it, but he still misses his old friend. Sometimes, he wonders if he ever truly knew him at all.

---

Freshly fallen Vox seeking out an overlord’s protection because holy shit, if he tries to survive on the streets any longer, he’s gonna get killed, or worse. Most sinners get asked if they can do anything useful when they go to an overlord; Vox gets asked if he can sing, dance, and do comedy routines. He can, so he’s quickly scooped up by the overlord. He supposes he should be grateful that he was able to score a comfortable job doing something not terribly unpleasant, but the dehumanization of being treated like a doll or an adorable purse dog grates on him. He remembers who he really is (or used to be) and would do anything to be seen as a man again rather than a novelty.

---

Imagine feeling so utterly desexed by your body, finding someone you think you can trust to respect you, confessing that you’re in love with them, and they laugh in your face for thinking such a thing was even remotely possible. Alastor doesn’t do a great job clarifying that he’s disinterested in a relationship out of personal preference rather than because he doesn’t respect Vox, and Vox walks away from the encounter seething, believing that Alastor never saw him as anything more than a pet or a clown.

---

Man, this would especially suck for my hc version of Vox, who used to be a small-time Vaudevillian when he was a child. Like. Yaaaayyy, time to dance around and act cutesy for people who have complete power over you… again…… when you’re pushing forty…………

---

Vox was REALLY starting to feel like he'd made an irreversible mistake before Alastor came into his life. He'd been in the employ of his overlord for four years, and he could count the number of times he'd been allowed to leave their compound on two (four-fingered) hands. They weren't cruel to him per se, but they really did seem to see him as a pet– something to trail after them all day, do tricks on demand, and show off to colleagues at parties. Any plans he had for carving out a dignified, powerful life for himself were going up in smoke. He knew a lot of things from constantly overhearing conversations about the overlord's business, but he didn't have anyone to trade that information to because of his restricted mobility. He understood that he had some pretty unique powers, but he'd never gotten the chance to use them in combat, only to perform. It was becoming clear to Vox that the only way he was going to escape this doltish, embarrassing life was if someone killed his overlord (something he couldn't do himself due to the deal they struck).

And then the Radio Demon came walking through the door.

---

Vox really has no idea what Alastor's deal is when they first meet. Like. He kidnaps him but also says Vox can leave whenever he wants. But like. where is he supposed to go??? Alastor just killed his overlord, which, yeah, Vox wanted to happen, but now he's homeless and isn't sure how to proceed. Is it safe to stay with Alastor, or is he just going to kill him next?

Vox keeps up the "silly little cartoon" persona for a while because Alastor seems to find it amusing, but things gradually slip through the cracks. He's scared Alastor will abandon or kill him if he grows bored or dissatisfied with him, but... Alastor seems to like the real him? He actually lets him speak freely and talk about whatever he wants? He uses his tech powers to turn off the in-built censors that keep Vox from swearing?? When he realizes that Vox is actually really cunning, he wants to hear his feedback on things??? Sure, he still kinda talks down to him, but Alastor's like that with everyone. This... maybe this could be more than just trading one master for another.

---

Random thoughts about Vox’s overlord

She was enamored with him from the first moment she saw him. He was just so precious! And he was willing to do anything to receive her protection!

Her industry had nothing to do with entertainment; she took Vox in purely to be her own personal jester.

Not sure if she owned his soul or just had a deal with him to give him a safe place to live in exchange for his services.

Loved treating him like a doll. Would dress him in cute, oversized outfits, carry him around in her arms, and occasionally bring him to bed and cuddle him like some sort of plushie.

There were occasions, especially towards the beginning, when Vox would snap at her or reveal elements of his real personality. Those incidents would only lead to her doubling down on the demeaning treatment. She’d experienced mistreatment at the hands of men like him when she was alive and saw asserting her power over him as cathartic and karmic.

Usually brought him with her everywhere, but would sometimes leave him locked in her office/room by himself if she had something important scheduled. Vox had initially thought he could leave or at least walk around when she didn’t need him, but no. Besides, why would he want to leave? The streets of Hell were no place for a tiny, fragile thing like him!

Vox fucking hated her and was glad to see Alastor bash her brains in and feature her on his show.

---

Mainverse Vox died by being electrocuted by an ungrounded mic at work right before they went live. This Vox died by being electrocuted while trying to fix the family TV. His kids had been begging him to at least try to fix it since the repairman couldn’t come until the next day, and they didn’t want to miss their favorite cartoon. He was feeling indulgent that day and felt that, as the man of the house, he should be able to fix things without always calling someone else to do it for him. It didn’t end well.

---

Thinking about Vox and Alastor’s first encounter.

Alastor might have seen Vox before at an overlord event, being shown off by his boss or performing for her friends. He may have seen him for the first time when he walked into Vox’s overlord’s office and saw her toying with him. Either way, Alastor was immediately intrigued. He hadn’t seen many sinners like Vox, with his screen head and cartoony body, and could instantly tell he was a highly skilled performer. His eyes followed him, even as Vox’s overlord put him aside and ordered him to go get her and Alastor drinks. Vox could tell Alastor was watching him but wasn’t sure what to do about it. It’s probably not a good sign when the infamous Radio Demon is eying you like you’re his next meal.

Eventually, the overlord noticed that Alastor was not paying full attention to their conversation and was preoccupied with Vox. The topic briefly switched to him before Alastor inquired if she’d be willing to bargain for him. Vox was horrified. The overlord attempted to politely decline; she couldn’t bear to part with her precious little poppet. He was hers, and it would be cruel to separate them— they adored each other so much, after all. Alastor just smiled blithely and clarified: he wasn’t asking.

All hell broke loose in an instant. One moment, Vox was observing a conversation between his boss and her colleague; the next, the office was crawling with shadows, and his overlord was pinned to the wall, impaled on a tentacle. Vox panicked and tried to flee, but there was no escaping that room. There are two options for what happens next: either Vox is seized by Alastor and teleported out of the building, or Vox’s boss screams at him to help her, only for him to glance between her and Alastor and fix her with an icy stare.

No matter what happens, the outcome is the same: Vox found himself teleported onto the streets of Hell with Alastor looming over him. He frantically attempted to talk Alastor out of killing him, but Al just laughed jovially and told Vox that he had no intention of harming him. Vox was free to leave whenever he wanted, but Alastor would like to see just how entertaining he truly was.

---

As they're walking, Alastor notices a weird clicking sound coming from Vox. He asks what it is, and Vox awkwardly explains that he's wearing tap shoes and starts trying to take them off as he walks. Alastor is amused and tells him not to bother. He'd love to see him dance sometime.

---

Val: Baby? What were things like before you met me? Vox: Awesome. I had- I had women all over me, they just couldn’t get enough. Everyone was always dying to see my shows. I was voted the hottest person in Hell. It was great. Vox’s actual early career in Hell:

---

Thinking about one of the times Vox “mouthed off” to his overlord. He may be a performer, but there’s only so long he can stay in character, especially when said character is so undignified. He refused to play along with one of her little games and snapped at her that he was a man, not a fucking show dog.

Next thing Vox knew, he was nearly blinded by pain as his boss twisted his antenna almost to its breaking point. Her voice sickeningly sweet, she told him that she knew exactly what kind of man he had been— Earth’s crawling with them. But those days are over now. Respect has to be earned in Hell; it’s not just going to be handed to him like when he was alive. The afterlife has made him a joke, and the sooner he accepts that, the happier he'll be. That’s what he signed up for when they made their little arrangement, after all. She asked if she was understood and kept twisting his antenna until she got a loud-and-clear “Yes, ma’am” out of him. With that, she snapped back to normal and either cheerfully ushered him towards [whatever she was forcing him to do] or dismissed him in her typical patronizing manner.

Vox broke half the items in his room that night in a rage. He tried to leave gouges on his skin and dents in his head, but he couldn’t manage it, what with his stupid, soft little hands.

---

It doesn’t really fit with my headcanon that Alastor was super white-passing when he was alive and spent most of his life pretending to be white in order to have more opportunities, but I feel like he may have felt a kinship with Proto-Vox due to them both being “outsiders”— people who are/were constantly dismissed by those in power and have to work twice as hard in order to be taken seriously, even though they’re more skilled and competent than everyone else in the room. And so it hurt all the more when Vox leapt at the first opportunity to change who he was in order to join the class of people who has once looked down on him. It didn’t fully click with Alastor that Vox wasn’t always like this– that he was trying to return to who he once was rather than abandoning who he’d always been.

---

Vox wasn’t exactly doing himself any favors in terms of connecting with the other sinners who worked under his overlord. He was so desperate to reestablish at least some control over his situation that, on the rare occasion he got to interact with people without his boss looming over them, he was insufferable, acting as though his position as their overlord's constant companion made him superior to regular employees. It never actually made him feel any better though, since most people either just rolled their eyes or testily reminded him that his oh-so-important job was to make a fool of himself all day and be doted on by his "owner."

---

To most outside observers, it really looked as though the relationship between Vox and his overlord was genuinely loving. She’s was just so affectionate with him. There was never a moment when she wasn’t tittering away at his jokes, or playing with his antennas or plug tail, or scooping him up into her arms or lap, or hugging or tickling or cuddling him, or covering him in kisses, or coming up with adorable pet names, or showing him off to others as though he were the rarest gem she’d ever come across. No one ever seemed to notice that Vox was never the one to initiate these kind of interactions. Depending on who you asked, it was either the most adoring master-servant arrangement Hell had ever seen, a (possibly biological?) mother-son dynamic, or just an INCREDIBLY kinky relationship. Vox played his part well, laughing along and hardly ever letting the smiling mask slip. No one ever could’ve guessed just how much he loathed her and the entire humiliating situation, or how cruel she could be whenever he dared drop the act.

Well, no one except Alastor, that is.

---

Imo, Proto Vox would just sound like normal Vox slightly pitched up, but man, Hell giving him a lisp or some other "funny" way of speaking on top of everything else would be such a gut punch for him. His good looks and his charismatic manner of speech were key to his success when he was alive, and now both of those lifelines have been severed.

---

Personal, headcanon-specific thoughts:

Proto Vox’s outfit is very similar to a costume he wore during his childhood on Vaudeville.

Alternate option: While I hc that sinners spawn naked, if they don’t, then Vox spawned in the exact 1920s sailor suit he used to wear during most of his childhood performances.

His Hell form is a punishment not only because it robs him of all dignity, but because it’s a constant reminder of a part of his life when he had no power over his situation and was treated like an object meant only to entertain.

---

Thinking about how Alastor’s “a smile is a means of maintaining control” philosophy might strike a chord with Proto Vox. When he was alive (and later, in his career as an overlord), putting on a smile was a way for him to project the person he wanted others to perceive him as. If he looked the part, then people would believe he was the confident, steady, trustworthy man he presented as. After he arrived in Hell, though, a smile became a mask he could not take off. Hell had chosen a role for him, and if he failed to play it well enough, he risked permanent death or worse. He resented having to keep that mindless grin on his face at all times. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. This wasn’t who he was. The idea that he could use that iron mask to regain control over his life was foreign to him, but it made sense. Now that he was no longer chained to a master who kept him locked into that hated role at all times, he had a choice in how he wanted to use it— for day-to-day survival or to further his true ambitions?

---

Vox and Alastor’s first encounter was at an overlord party like something out of a Regency romance, except Vox was three feet tall and didn’t notice Alastor was watching him because he was too busy performing for his boss’ overlord friends. Alastor appreciated the skill on display in Vox’s routine and was intrigued by the unusual way his “owner” treated him. Sure, some overlords treat those under them as pets, but she was so overly cutesy and “loving” with him that it stood out, especially given the way Vox feigned reciprocation. Interesting.

---

A scene/story idea: Vox is sitting at a desk in a grand, spacious office. It’s late, and he’s just killing time, wishing he had a cigar (and a mouth to smoke it with) and occasionally scribbling down notes for future reference. The stationary he’s using has the date printed at the top, though. It’s his daughter’s tenth birthday. He reflects on how it’s been three years since he last saw her and the rest of his family and how he’ll likely never see them again. He hopes his wife is throwing her an appropriately extravagant party, at least. They’d gone all-out for their son’s tenth birthday; half the neighborhood was there, even one or two of the ladies from work who had blown him in exchange for putting in a good word with the producers. It was a great time.

And then his boss comes walking in, complaining about what a stressful day she’s had, and the illusion that this is Vox’s office shatters. He hops down to the floor, taking his dance/comedy routine notes with him. His boss is busy getting herself a drink, so he hopes she didn’t notice him sitting in her chair. He starts trying to engage her in conversation, switching to his work persona (cheerful, cutesy, and childish). She did notice him, but she just smiles indulgently and says he always knows just what to do to cheer her up— he looked so silly sitting at her big, important desk. Now, she needs a bit of comfort; they’ll be going to bed now. She scoops Vox up as easily as if he were a doll and carries him off to serve as her (very angular) teddy bear. Vox keeps the adoring smile plastered on his face and tries to put aside the burning shame and rage that this is what the afterlife has reduced him to: a child, a pet, a toy meant to entertain those who wield the actual power.

---

You know, come to think of it, there’s actually some basis to Alastor feeling a bit of a kinship with Vox. Aside from the obvious shared trait of them both being communications/entertainment demons, Alastor’s demonic form is a prey animal. Al never had to deal with the consequences of having that kind of form since he spawned so powerful (unless we’re going with the theory that he made his mystery deal right when he got to Hell and draws the majority of his power from it (which would be pretty interesting in this context…)), but still.

---

Made Vox's room in the Sims

---

Vox tried to walk out of his job, once. His boss pushed him too far, and he snapped, yelling at her to find someone else to play this fucked up game with; he’d rather take his chances on the streets. Next thing he knew, he was bound, muted, and blindfolded, being crammed into a tiny suitcase. His overlord told him to reflect on what he’d said. There’s no life after second death, only nothingness. Is that really a risk he wants to take?

Vox was in “storage” for the next week. He didn’t try to leave again after that.

---

When Vox’s boss finally decided he’d had enough time to reflect, she opened the trunk to find Vox barely able to move under his own power. He was trembling like a freezing cat, having spent seven whole days bound in the fetal position, unable to move, speak, hear, or see. He couldn’t even unfurl himself from said position without her help. When she took him into her arms, he clung to her, any thoughts of hate or anger gone, replaced with a desperate desire for human connection after a week of nothingness. She cradled him in her arms— sweet as a lamb and without a shred of that odious pride she’d been working so hard to stamp out of him. Whispering kind, soothing words, she stroked his shaking, silent body as she carried him back to her bedroom. She dozed off with him in her arms, secure in the knowledge that her darling little doll had learned his lesson: being her toy is a privilege, and the only possible alternative for him is oblivion.

---

Thinking about Proto Vox and body dysmorphia

Vox hated everything about his body.

He hated being so small, not even half the size of most other sinners.

He hated his face, cute and goofy-looking. He hated his “missing tooth,” which only added to his childish appearance.

He hated his head, oversized and heavy. He hated how clumsy it made him at first, before he became accustomed to it.

He hated not having a physical mouth and being unable to eat.

He hated his voice, higher pitched than it had been when he was alive. He hated the childish-sounding lisp he had been afflicted with.

He hated how he couldn’t swear or talk about adult topics without his voice being drowned out by an in-built censor.

He hated his body and its strange combination of wood and metal, both of which bent in ways that shouldn’t’ve been possible.

He hated his hands, soft and rounded and nailless.

He hated how he had spawned without genitals, completely smooth and sexless, like a doll.

He hated how no one perceived him as anything even remotely resembling a sexual being, even though he was a fully grown man who had once had his pick of beautiful women when he was alive.

He hated how he weighed almost nothing, making him easy for others to pick up or restrain.

He hated the way nothing in Hell was built to accommodate sinners his size, forcing him to climb (or be lifted onto) things as simple as chairs.

He hated the way his boss made him dress; in baggy outfits that made his smallness even more apparent, in children’s clothes, in silly, oh-so adorable costumes. He especially hated when she insisted on dressing him herself, as if he was her doll.

He hated how often people mistook him for a child or deliberately talked down to him as though he was stupid, just because of his ridiculous body.

He hated how people laughed at him and how he had no choice but to make them laugh in order to keep himself alive.

He hated how, in one fell swoop, Hell had robbed him of everything that had made him him. His good looks, his charisma, his respectability— everything. Never in a million years would he have anticipated that this would be his punishment for his misdeeds on Earth, for looking down on others and treating them like objects to be pushed around, but he had to admit, it was a pretty potent punishment nonetheless. And he would do anything to escape it.

---

Vox’s boss was kind of massively projecting her own resentments and trauma onto him. She didn’t actually know that much about him. It was pure luck that her impression of him as an arrogant chauvinist who had treated the people in his life poorly was… you know… accurate.

---

Vox realized that he had a voyeurism kink the third time his boss had sex with someone while he was still in the room. Probably not the outcome she intended, but it wasn’t like Vox could do anything about it anyway. He still felt sexual desire, but he’d spawned in Hell without genitals, so that energy had nowhere to go. Just another lovely part of Vox’s Wonderful Afterlife.

---

Most sinners are horrified when they see their new forms for the first time. Vox was just devastated.

He was horrified when he first woke up, of course– transported to a strange new place, surrounded by giant monsters, and barely able to keep from swaying under the weight of his oversized head. No one paid him or his panic any mind, save for a few smirks and chuckles. Vox found himself pressed up against a wall, out of the way of the flow of pedestrians, trying to process what was going on. Once he realized something was wrong with his body, he ducked into a nearby store, desperate to find a mirror (and get away from the crowds of fellow sinners). The store clerk let him in; they weren’t supposed to let newlydead into the shop since they usually just cause a scene, but Vox looked harmless, and they felt a little bad for such a tiny, fearful sinner. Vox made a beeline for the nearest mirror.

When his reflection finally came into view, Vox… he was lost for words. Seeing his childlike proportions, it finally registered that the world hadn’t gotten bigger; he’d gotten smaller. His body… there was something wrong with it. It was made of wood and metal, like a puppet, only the materials seemed to bend like rubber. Worse than that, it was completely smooth and featureless; his genitals were simply gone. His hands were soft, rounded, and nailless, more like stuffed gloves than human hands. His head was encased— no, not encased, replaced with a television set that looked like it made up the majority of his body weight. Displayed on its screen was a face like something out of a cartoon: large, shiny, googly eyes, a wide mouth, and one conspicuously absent tooth. All topped off with a pair of floppy, overly long antennas that made him resemble some kind of insect.

Vox was speechless, staring at his new body. He felt tears bubbling up as he examined each part of it. He wasn’t sure how, but some part of him knew this wasn’t a dream and that this form would not be temporary. No tears fell though, trapped behind the glass of the— his screen. He couldn’t recall the moment of his death, but the realization of where he must be began to dawn on him. A soft, despairing sound escaped him, and Vox realized his voice, too, had been changed. He was not himself anymore, just this tiny, adorable thing, right out of one of the cartoons he’d been trying to repair the TV so his children could watch. A joke.

Suddenly, Vox felt someone grab him by the arm, dragging him away from the mirror, his feet barely brushing the floor. The owner had noticed a newlydead had snuck in and was having the prerequisite “What have I become?” freakout in their store. Carelessly, they shoved/threw Vox back onto the street and slammed the door behind them. Reeling, trying to wrap his mind around the gravity of the situation, Vox stumbled and collapsed on the sidewalk, surrounded by sinners who either stepped around him like he was nothing or paused for a moment to chuckle at the clumsy newlydead struggling to regain his balance under the weight of his massive head.

---

Vox's own shitty beliefs ended up being used against him during his early years in Hell.

In life, he'd treated his wife and son poorly because they complained about being unhappy with the way things were. Vox believed that if all your physical needs were met and you were able to live comfortably, you had no right to complain. He provided them with everything, and all he asked for in return was for them to be the happy, perfect wife and son he expected them to be. What was so hard about that?!

In death, the tables were turned. Vox was able to live comfortably in a safe environment, doing a job that most sinners would describe as incredibly cushy, but he was desperately unhappy. He was forced to play an inauthentic, demeaning role 24/7 and couldn't complain about it unless he wanted to be punished. Just sit there quietly and smile while the "grownups" are talking. No one wants to hear your silly little opinions. You should be grateful that you're even allowed to be here.

---

Words were Vox's boss' preferred weapon when it came to surreptitiously tormenting him, but she wasn't above using physical violence as a means of "discipline" either. Aside from the antenna and "storage" incidents, she'd occasionally employ "percussive maintenance" at the beginning of his time with her in response to breaks in character or sullen comments. Once or twice, she burnt him with cigarettes in response to particularly "bad" offenses.

---

Vox's boss would give him gifts sometimes. Little presents wrapped up all pretty with a bow. Sometimes, they were for special occasions, like the anniversary of his "coming to live with her"; sometimes, they were "rewards for good behavior." Vox would accept the presents graciously and then never open them, leaving them to collect dust in his room. There were a few occasions when she made him open them in front of her, though. Usually, they were just quaint little trinkets or clothes, but once, she gifted him a goldfish (or the Hellish equivalent) in a tiny bowl. It was the closest she'd gotten to something he'd actually want, yet it still felt like a veiled taunt. It didn't take long for the fish to die; its bowl was simply too small.

---

Vox does his absolute best to keep his past a secret from everyone, particularly Valentino. He knows on some level that it wouldn’t really change anything, other than give Val and Vel something else to tease him about, but Vox’s ego is so fragile that he feels like he’d die if they found out. Unfortunately for him, Valentino is incredibly observant when he wants to be. He doesn’t know the specifics, but based on various little things from throughout the years and the pointed insults he’s heard Alastor throw at Vox, he can guess that Vox’s early days in Hell were... less than auspicious. However, he assumes Vox was just some corporate toady, and he would be just as shocked as anyone else to learn how Vox actually began his afterlife.

---

Playing with the idea that Vox’s boss hired him with no ulterior motives; she simply thought he was cute and would be an easy source of entertainment. However, as time went on and she got a better sense of what kind of person Vox was, she began deliberately tormenting him. The abuse and humiliation started off under the pretext that she was only doing it to “correct an attitude problem,” but it soon became clear that her real issue with Vox had nothing to his abilities as a performer.

---

It doesn’t really fit with the “lore” I’ve been putting together for this AU, but the idea of Vox trying to go in for various media/performance auditions and either being laughed out of them or told to look into less dignified roles is compelling to me. He looks and sounds so much like a goofy little child, why on Earth would anyone even consider him, especially when there are countless other sinners looking for work whose forms aren’t so distractingly cutesy?

I’ll be honest, Babydoll from Batman TAS is a significant influence on how I conceptualize Proto Vox.

---

Reminds me of @fakeannafromthebox's Caterpillar Val AU. Vox is so miserable. He wants to be back in his modified body NOW, but it's going to take a while for them to rebuild it. Val and Vel tease him about it at first... until they realize that Vox is genuinely really hurt by it. He never wanted them to see him like this.

The denizens of Hell are confused why Vox is suddenly on a month-long hiatus when he's literally never taken a break from the media before.

---

Been considering whether it should just be happenstance that brings Vox and Alastor together, or if Vox should hit his breaking point, go behind his boss' back, and send Alastor a false message in her name, hoping that it will provoke him into killing her.

---

Had a mental image today of Vox sitting in on one of his boss’ conversations with a colleague, as per usual. He’s bored and miserable until the two overlords start discussing the Radio Demon. Vox has heard stories— might’ve even caught one or two of Alastor’s broadcasts— but he’s never heard him discussed like an actual person rather than an urban legend. Vox’s boss starts shittalking Alastor, and Vox suddenly gets an idea. He begins secretly recording her, capturing all her private complaints about him on tape. Vox is terrified what she might do to him if she found out what he was doing, but at this point, he was so good at masking his true emotions that she doesn’t even notice anything is off. Vox held onto that recording until he gained access to a communications device. He hesitated for a moment, thinking of all the ways this plan could go wrong and result in his permanent death, but… he couldn’t pass up this opportunity. He couldn’t bear to stay here any longer.

Alastor figured out it was Vox who sent him that message a couple years into their friendship, but he didn’t hold it against him. In fact, he was impressed with Vox’s determination, taking his fate back into his hands regardless of the risks. He eventually told Vox so himself when the topic came up years later.

---

Vox once made the mistake of snapping that he was not a child at one of his boss’ colleagues who had been talking about him like he was too stupid to understand what they were saying. Honestly, the momentary shock on the colleague’s face was not worth the ensuing, agonizing conversation where his boss muted him, apologized to the other overlord, then prompted them to try to guess his real age, and took far too much pleasure in explaining to them that despite Vox’s appearance, he was actually 41.

---

Thinking about Proto Vox sitting in on his boss' overlord meetings like the Egg Bois in episode 3. Most of the time, his boss would hold him in her lap like a doll, but sometimes she'd leave him sitting on the ground until the meeting ended. He wished he had a way to put the information he was “eavesdropping” on to good use, but he wasn't allowed to leave the stupid compound without being accompanied by his boss.

---

One particularly dehumanizing experience Vox remembers far more vividly than he would like was the first time his overlord stripped him naked without his consent so she could redress him in a new outfit she’d picked out. This became a semi-frequent occurrence, but it never stopped making his skin crawl. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to someone like him, and yet here he was, robbed not only of the freedom to choose his own clothes, but even to dress himself if his boss so willed it.

Even over half a century later, Vox still needs to be coaxed and convinced by Valentino to surrender control during sex. He has no intention of ever telling Val why having someone else undress him puts him on edge.

---

cw sexual assault

The first time Vox’s overlord stripped him naked was also when she discovered that he had no genitals. Of course, she couldn’t let that fact go uncommented on and groped between his legs to confirm, cooing all the while about how perfect Vox was. Vox didn’t even have time to dissociate during the experience; it all happened so fast. Before he had time to process what happened, he was already being redressed in whatever stupid outfit she’d picked out for him that time. The dissociation came later.

In hindsight, Vox thinks it’s sort of darkly funny how he felt as though he’d been sexually assaulted despite not having any sex organs at the time. It’s really not.

---

Oh, I'm glad you liked the post!

Yeah, I can see Alastor giving that roach speech to Vox when he's trying to convince him to stop modifying himself. Vox is just like "You think I'm a bug???" He never noticed; he was too focused on the cartoon/TV thing. Message not received.

Alastor probably has weird feelings about the way Vox's old boss treated him. On one hand, it's kind of funny, and Alastor's clearly not opposed to treating people like pets given his later relationship with Husk. On the other... he feels a weird sort of kinship with Vox in so many regards, and his relationship with his overlord... [leak discussion] it's uncomfortably similar to Alastor's with his contract holder– tricked into a bad deal, treated with condescension, and forced to pretend to adore them in public [end leak discussion]. Alastor likes the idea of helping Vox gain power and rise above his station, but not him changing himself in order to accomplish that goal– he sees too much of himself in Vox to stand that.

Vox doing ad reads/voice overs for Alastor's show is a great idea. Perfect way to get back into the industry without opening himself up to mockery, plus he's got a wonderful voice. Would also give him another reason to hate radio once he and Al split: audio-only work will always be a reminder of a time when he couldn't bear to be seen.

---

Might incorporate how long it’s taking me to come up with a name for Vox’s boss by making it so he’s only allowed to call her “Ma’am”/“Madam”/“Miss” instead of her actual sinner name.

---

Thoughts on Proto Vox in the RAM verse

Proto Vox thoughts that heavily feature my OCs

---

Once he finally gained the ability to project a functioning mouth onto his screen, Vox got himself into some… interesting situations trying to keep up with Alastor whenever they went out for drinks. He didn’t care that he was half Alastor’s size; he’s drinking just as much as he is! Maybe even more!!

Those were some of the funniest nights Alastor had (and still has) ever experienced.

---

Thinking about Vox, dead for a week or so, with cracks in his screen and dressed only in a button up shirt he stripped off a corpse double his size, attempting to pitch himself to his soon-to-be overlord and trying not to come across as desperate as he truly was. The streets of Hell aren't kind to anyone, but especially not to defenseless-looking, newly arrived sinners with body parts that could potentially be resold. In his short time in Hell, Vox had already had multiple people try to strip him for parts, and had only escaped them by the skin of his teeth. He'd barely been able to sleep since he arrived, constantly on-guard for more attackers. He looked a fucking wreck, but that only added to his charm in his boss' opinion. He looked like a starving Victorian orphan trying to give a serious business pitch– so cute!

#idk i just think it's a funny coincidence #like i could see vox and his overlord having their own version of this #just change a few lines and throw in a tap solo and we're good #vox's boss and [REDACTED] would get along #proto vox au

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malcontentonline · 8 months ago

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your time travel au is so cool

Using this ask as another opportunity to info dump about it thanks anon!

I've been drawing some of Gai's main students in the au recently! My boi ends up with a proto-genin team :>

All of them are considered hopeless by the Uchiha in one way or another but here are their vibes individually:

Ichigo - (9) the youngest, he’s a talentless nobody who’s only survived this long through luck alone, he is extremely bad at controlling his chakra to the point that he’s not even competent at most jutsu. He’s ok at fighting with kunai but that’s about it. His lack of skill isn’t the only reason he’s been put on Gai’s squad however, he also finds it impossible to connect with others and since the sharingan awakens through loss an orphan with no connections in the world has a low chance of ever even getting a single Tomoe. Personally wise he’s a reckless troublemaker, always up for a challenge and always happy to learn new techniques, he’s just never had a proper teacher as he’s far too much trouble for most to handle.

Yuki - (13) the oldest, he’s a quite skilled ninja, mastering multiple jutsu from different chakra natures, he would have had a bright future in the clan if it wasn’t for the fact he was born with very poor eyesight that has only gotten worse over the years, it’s unlikely he would be able to properly use a regular sharingan even if he ever manifested it so he believes his only hope is to gain a mangekyou sharingan - since its powers are based on the individual he may be able to use them with his limited vision. (Also since he’s already going blind he would not mind the cost of it) Personally wise he’s quite shy and reserved - even at times a little naive. He finds communicating with others confusing and difficult, leading him to usually try copying the vibe of the people he is around.

Awaki - (11) pretty much the brain cell of the group. She was an incredibly talented ninja, she prided herself on her nin and genjutsu abilities (she’d even invented several jutsus). That all changed when, at the age of Nine, she was in a fight and lost one of her hands. She was completely devastated - and to make a bad situation worse - she hadn’t managed to activate her sharingan like she assumed she would have. This situation led the uchiha elders to believe she may have an emotional threshold for activation that is far higher than normal people. Since she wasn’t able to weave the complex hand signs she used to be known for she was encouraged to retire, but she refused to let it stop her, she taught herself how to weave simple jutsu with one hand and now using scrolls is the main way she fights (as it allows her to prepare attacks before hand and simply unseal them when she needs them). Personally wise she’s very serious and strict with herself and others, she also absolutely hates people treating her like she can’t take care of herself. Over all though she is very good at keeping calm and level headed in stressful situations.

Here are some doodles of the squad:

#my art #might guy #time travel au #madara uchiha #naruto oc #sorry I know no one really cares about ocs for the most part but these lil guys have really monopolised all of my brain space recently #madagai #Yes I named one of them ichigo #i thought it was funny #I also felt bad removing Gai from the timeline before he got his Genin team because I love team gai #so I thought I’d make discount uchiha brand team gai instead :>

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switchnx · 3 months ago

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It was recently revealed that X2 was originally going to have a plot twist that Zero was a modified Roll? I had an AU idea of if that had happened much earlier in the timeline. (Basically Roll becoming a FtM kid Zero like how Star is a MtF Mega Man)

Presenting: Zero R

What I was thinking was that it could possibly take place after the OVA after Roll attacks Wily, which ends up giving him an idea. He could also catch wind of her armor by using Reggae as a spy drone or something. Late one night he sneaks into Light Labs. Roll notices him, dons her armor and attempts to sneak attack him. Unfortunately, Wily was counting on this, and uses this to kidnap her and bring her back to his base before anyone notices. As a distraction, he goes to his usual shtick of unleashing 8 robot masters to terrorize the world the next morning. In the meantime he began the conversion process. However, in between the redesign process and the brainwashing process, he gets distracted. Zero comes to and manages to escape and sneak off to join the battle. Zero realizes that he might actually be able to use his new design to his advantage. Since in the OVA, Mega Man didn’t want Roll fighting (admittedly it never sat right with me that he wouldn’t support her, but it works surprisingly well for this plot), if he’s not recognized at first it could pose less of a conflict. Of course this works out perfectly, as when Mega Man and Proto Man are having trouble against a particularly difficult boss, Zero shows up (introducing himself as such) and takes it down. Not only that, but to his surprise they also mistake him for a boy, though he decides not to correct them. This turns out to be a good decision, as over the course of the adventure leading up to the big reveal, Zero notices that being referred to as male just feels right for some reason.

#tumblr #megaman #rockman #mega man #roll #megaman roll #roll light #roll megaman #rockman roll #mega man roll #zero #mega man zero #trans #zero r

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megamanrecut · 1 year ago

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I have a Mega Man AU where Roll was the prototype to the robot masters instead of Blues

and I remembered there was a similar sort of swap scenario in an episode of season two of recut where Rock and Proto swapped roles temporarily

So I thought I'd ask, what do you think would be different if Proto had swapped roles with Roll instead of Rock? I, for one, imagine proto just punching the robot masters instead of having the arm gadget that roll has.

Haha, really cool concept, your AU sounds awesome!

So for Recut, like if Roll was the older sister who became Wily's second-in-command, and Rock and Proto were twins? Lots of thoughts on this (this would be really fun to draw too~ like one of those style swaps I did awhile back, with Red Bomber Roll and Jumpsuit/Utility Arm Proto or whatever)

So Roll is still Roll, but like even cooler? So more of a 'cool badass' with the effortless charisma canon!Proto has, rather than a 'hotheaded badass' that canon!Roll is, yet also with a personal beef against Dr. Light that caused the original rift for her to defect (Maybe she too got bored?)

Meanwhile the sibling rivalry would be much more intense between Rock and Proto, with Proto especially feeling like he's been passed over. Not sure if this would make Proto more tempted to join his older sister, or if like canon!Roll he just blindly hates Wily and his second-in-command too much to ever consider this lol. But I think things would be very bitter between him and Rock at times

As for Proto's weapon, idk all the Light siblings are inventors like their father to an extent; Proto definitely likes hand-to-hand combat so punching definitely makes sense, I could still see him maybe making his own blaster like Roll did too, or maybe he does his own thing where he specializes in combat vehicles (like mini fighter jets, or a skycycle equipped with laser canons!)

Since Roll is the older sister, she'd definitely try to coax her younger brothers to join Wily, but also strive to get them to get along with each other (which they'd probably hate lol, though would also grudgingly think she is pretty cool for a bad guy)

So basically the sibling drama would still mostly be between Rock and Proto hahaha

But the real question is...would Roll have the scarf, or would that still be Proto's thing? Hmmm

Thanks for the question!

#questiom time #recut au #good!Proto au #master of disaster #roll #mega man #proto man #also would Roll be 'Roll Woman' or just Roll #I kinda like Break Woman too though lol idk #this got rambly lol I'm so tired

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wolfoftonight · 3 months ago

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ITS THE BROTHERSSSSSS

What's this? Megaman art? From me? Been a hot minute! But yes, this is a commission for @wolfoftonight They wanted their oc and Protoman hugging :D

———————————– My Commissions | .Carrd | Ko-Fi

#reblog #proto swap au #rs!proto #pm!mega #oh and your watermark is in a good spot too #nice #no transparency issues yayyy #EXPLODES #WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE OF CUTENESS OVERLOAD NOW

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askprotoroll · 11 months ago

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Ayo! Decided to share some drawings I did of the roll-proto swap au version of Proto

Plus a bonus with Blues and Proto

The design for proto is mainly based on the design @megamanrecut did here

Kinda tried emulating the style, too?? My style kinda snuck in at the end, I think.

#recut au #good!proto au #mega man #prototype roll au #au #blues and roll swap au #megaman #megaman au #rockman #alternate au #art #i hate how i couldn't keep his face and hair consistent #might draw up the rolls too later

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hiwelcometothemonstersancturary · 10 months ago

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Do you have ideas for how the Angel and The Prototype ship would occur and progress? (Like, who would get feelings for who first, who would they get advice from, how the toys would react, if it would be an even bigger romcom than Dogday and Catnap…)

FINALLY, MY TIME HAS ARRIVED.

Angel x Prototype in the Everyone Is Saved AU first starts after Angel finds a nice house for all the toys to live in. After everyone is moved out and settled in, Catnap convinces Prototype to leave the abandoned factory. Prototype reluctantly agrees, making sure to grab every single document he can find with him. I know Prototype is known by the authorities because Angel had to tell them about him, but not by the general public. When he leaves Playtime, it's a very quick and effective escape and into a small hut outside the farm.

This new place is way smaller than Playtime, physically wise, but it feels so much better in every way possible. Prototype is weirded out by everything at this point, even the sound of the toys playing with each other and talking like normal kids and young adults would do instead of trying to hunt each other for food like before. Elliot's mind is full, all the memories from the toys he absorbed together with his own, and now his brain finally has time to work out through the +10 years of trauma. He dissociates a lot, his hallucinations get weirder, all the good stuff about dealing with trauma, and the only ones who are there for him are Catnap and Angel.

Oh, Angel...

So we all can agree that Angel is also suffering from PTSD, right? And on top of that, they're taking care of +80 kids! Yeah some of them are young adults, but from Angel's POV those are still THEIR kids, and they have no idea how they work. Except Prototype does, and thus their relationship evolves from merely two adults desperate to give a better life to monster toys to two adults having no fucking idea what they're supposed to do for them. Prototype feels like he will never be able to repay for his sins, Angel feels like they'll never be able to provide everything the kids need. So one day Angel stays up late in Prototype's hut just talking about the toys, with Proto/Elliot also talking about them, and the two just go "this feels so overbearing, right?", and the other agrees.

When Prototype's relationship with Catnap finally gets better when they have some important conversations about the decade-long post Hour of Joy, there's a notable shift in his behavior, because now that he feels like he has his kid back it's like things can indeed be better. Cue to Angel getting better at dealing with the other toys, and as months go by their bond becomes stronger and more than just "hey the kids gave me a lot of work today and I need to drink/smoke, i'll stay at your hut so I won't be a bad example to them".

The really good stuff hits only after Poppy finds out that Prototype = Elliot Ludwig = her actual dad, because it's Angel grabbing Proto around and going "TALK. WITH. YOUR. KIDS", and it's the first time in decades since someone ever did that to him, because who in their right mind would bicker with a monster like HIM? And then Angel does exactly that. Smacks him with a newspaper and demands him to get his shit together instead of spiraling further into depression.

Somewhere during the months where Prototype is being promoted to parent #2 by each toy, one by one, is when Angel realizes that their friendship is getting a bit Funky(tm), but they just. Ignore it. Two years post-Playtime Co. go by and Angel is just there like "what I feel for parent #2 is entirely platonic and I do not think of him as anything else than a friend at all hahaha it would be weird right. Because he still talks to me about how he misses his wife (they divorced each other +70 years ago) and how he feels like he failed literally everyone important to him. I mean he didn't fail me what I see is just a guy struggling to be better and honestly I'm worse than him and- oh wait What" until like, they go to a family trip and Prototype decides to stay behind to watch over the farm, and Angel misses him way more than they think they would just miss a dear friend, and it's not just because he helps them with the kids.

Anyways Angel is panicking in all levels except physical when one day Prototype is talking with Catnap and Poppy (they're having a three-toy "tea party" because Pop wanted them to have a small family gathering) and she looks at him in the eye(s) and says "dad, are you sure you don't feel anything else for Angel?", and Proto is just "why are you asking me that???". Cue to Catnap staring at him like

And then Prototype realizes it's not very normal kind of platonic two months later when Angel, as per usual, is called by a scammer. And, as per house protocol, all the toys immediately go to the living room as Angel says "hold up, can you talk to my husband for a moment?" and gives Prototype the phone and tells him to do his thing and annoy the scammer. And Prototype feels weirdly a tiny bit too happy about pretending to be someone else's husband.

At this point the other toys are eyeing the two of them and going "no way..." as the two IDIOTS show them that yeah, yeah, they're witnessing the second romcom of the house, after Catnap and Dogday's telenovela-level worthy levels of drama. Some of them, like Kickin and Dogday himself, think it's no big deal, just two people being friendly, that's all, and then some time later Prototype accidentally sleeps over Angel's room during a thunderstorm (Angel is afraid he'll get struck by lightning so he stays in the main house for safety), and Angel, a genius Made In Brazil, decides to sleep in their room anyways because why not, Proto is just giving free teddybear vibes.

Proto wakes up and just accepts his fate (he's happy with that). Angel is half-asleep and very content with the setup.

... Anyways. Next day goes by, surprise surprise, the family's cuddle pile for movie night now has Prototype added to it, and it's not because Angel sleeps better when he's around. Nope.

Poppy and Catnap are considering start doing some bets to see how long it'll take their parents to realize It's Not Normal Platonic Anymore(TM) at this point, and are unimpressed when Prototype goes to them, sighs, and agrees that Poppy indeed was right. Meanwhile Angel has NO IDEA what to do because it's Prototype/Elliot, no way they have a chance, they'll just end up ruining their little weird family structure, and Dogday and Mommy Long Legs calm them down.

Bobby Bearhug and Craftycorn are working with the other toys to see if they can make Angel realize they need to do something, because Prototype is NOT going to do ANYTHING because his therapy is going strong but his communication issues are stronger. Hoppy and Picky know all about it and try to make Prototype do something about it, while Kickin and Bubba are Dissapointed But Not Surprised at the Situationship going on. "Guess Dogday and Catnap aren't the only ones with communication issues...", they agree, not realizing they also have communication issues. Mommy Long Legs is losing her fucking mind because HOW can one household have SO MANY IDIOTS RUNNING AROUND AND WHY ARE HER ADOPTIVE PARENTS LIKE THAT. AAAAAA. It's good drama tho.

Poppy tasks herself with keeping tabs on what's happening between her two parents. Catnap is watching in the background like "stop being so dramatic over this, Pop, they're working adults, they sure can talk". He may or may have not be gathering information to share with the old ladies at the church he goes to, because those girls LOVE Angel and are all curious as to how their relationship with the kids' "second parent" going. Catnap never tells them much asides from "my mother is, once again, terrible at communication, but has been doing well", but even he starts getting a bit impatient at one point.

Prototype and Angel's big telenovela-level worthy of romance drama lasts a few months, mostly because they both need lots of time with themselves in order to figure out what to do, and also mostly because at some point Angel is pretty content with just being Prototype's non queerplatonic/romantic partner. They're just going with the flow, initial anxiety being left behind and all of that.

Also Angel is a really big freaking dumbass, because Prototype's way of affection is through pampering, and he has been pampering Angel for MONTHS at this point and our human just didn't notice it's not platonic pampering. Prototype gets them more than one flower bouquet and Angel is just "oh this will be very nice for the house, Bobby and Long Legs love red roses!", and he keeps giving them the bouquets because it makes Angel happy, thus making him happy.

No, Elliot doesn't realize Angel is also stupid. He just tries to flirt like it's the 1930s while Angel is flirting like "haha what if we were married. Just kidding! Unless...?"

I think Angel doesn't exactly confess to Prototype in a traditional way. One night they're both chilling at either the hut or Angel's room after a long day and Angel gathers the courage to ask him what they even are. "You're the children's Parent, and I am Elliot Ludwig". Angel reworks their question to be "I don't think we're just platonic friends anymore".

"Do you want to be more?", Prototype asks, hopeful. Angel pauses, then agrees. "Then we can be more". After some talk they settle on either queerplatonic or romantic - I don't know which one would work best, but I think they aren't just platonic or just romantic. Angel and Prototype understand and respect each other a lot, and their relationship, for me, can't be defined with a simple "it's romance" definition. They're just them, and that's what matters.

Also Prototype goes "I WAS TRYING TO GET YOUR ATTENTION FOR MONTHS!" and Angel goes "I WAS REFERRING TO YOU AS MY HUSBAND ALL THE TIME AND YOU JUST THOUGHT I WAS JOKING AND BEING A SMARTASS????"

... Also Angel can wear a ring now! Prototype as well. They tell the kids about their new Situationship and Poppy very happily says "I won our bet!" to Catnap. Everyone else is glad for their parents but also their real-life telenovela is no more..,....

Anyways, I think this post is getting too long, I may share hcs about how their relationship works later, if anyone is interested!

#poppy playtime #save everyone au #poppy worldwide #the angel #experiment 1006 #poppy playtime prototype #i'll convert this entire fandom to love this crackship #c'mon everyone we can do it #also girl help???? i need a ship name!#angel x prototype

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wolfoftonight · 3 months ago

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Written by my very good friend! <3

As usual, Wily’s scheme was interrupted by the Blue Bomber (it felt weird to also call his counterpart Megaman. But at the same time, he wasn’t going to stoop to his brother’s level and call the fighter ‘Mega Dweeb’. He’d never tell Proto but it was a little embarrassing. Seriously, he’d heard better insults on the dystopian streets of the city.)

The plan Doctor Wily concocted this time was for them to harvest a rare mineral from an abandoned mine in Upstate New York. The material only being discovered by special equipment just released to the industry, meaning there would be a race to re-open old tunnels and such. And Wily wanted to be the first and only person in line.

With the special properties of the mineral, it was guaranteed to upgrade the doctor’s arsenal to great defensive power.

Megaman wasn’t completely sold on everything that the mad scientist did, but reinforcing their defenses so no one got hurt?

That was something Megaman would fight for.

So with Protoman and the other bots, they headed out on Wily’s orders, managing to get a good chunk of the mineral dug out and processed.

Which was when the plan inevitably got ruined by the heroic interloper.

“Stay back lil bro! This is my fight.”

They were up top now, in the quarry section, dull colored rocks and gravel surrounded them. His brother transformed his hand into his buster and boasted to all who could hear about his rivalry with the blue counterpart. Not an uncommon occurrence.

Yet still, it did nothing to comfort him. Protoman refused to let Megs be his protection during this fight!

“Protoman!” he begged. His eyes scanned the scene that consisted of the Blue Bomber taking on Drill man and Stoneman. Proto would be barreling straight into a close combat situation, guns blazing. It was needlessly reckless. Megs could just snipe the target from here. But that wasn’t his brother’s style.

“You’re tough, but you’re also smart Megs. Can’t say that about the others,” Protoman fired another barrage of plasma blasts from afar, looking all too ready to run off unto danger, holding back only for him, “I want you to make sure that stuff gets to Wily before Mega Jerk can steal it or trash it.”

His hands itched to fight. However, Megaman relented, holstering his weapon. “Okay.”

“There’s a good bot!” He got a quick pat on the shoulder from Protoman for his response, “Knew I could trust you!”

And his brother threw himself into the fight completely, launching himself over Drill Man so he could get up close and personal with the Blue Bomber.

Three against one hardly seemed fair. But in this game they played, the hero always won.

Megaman sighed, then waved to get Cutman and Gutsman attention, shouting orders and pointing them in the direction of the mining equipment. That should take care of that part. He then began to rush in the other direction to the mineral processor.

Even gathering up half of the mineral deposits would be enough to reinforce all the robot masters! The tanks and the other machines could wait. This was far more important.

Gravel crunched under his heavy steps. He needed to get this to the Skullker and fast–

The sound of plasma shots close by forced him to stumble in his run, and duck in reflex. But nothing hit close by. Megaman stood up, leg tweaking. He winced, and attempted to pull his foot from the crevice in the ground.

Nothing budged.

Great.

A deep rumbling and grinding of boulders echoed from above, interrupting his irritation. It was a tell tale sign of a rock slide.

Shit, the blaster fire may have not been targeting him, but that didn’t mean Megaman was going to come out unscathed—!!

He still couldn’t move, trapped as he was. The large stones seemed to loom over him as they fell, casting a gigantic shadow as they moved in what seemed like slow motion.

Until something slammed into him with the force of a truck.

The momentum dislodged (and probably dislocated) his foot joint, and he and the other force went tumbling. Dings, scratches, and dents collected as he rolled across the gravel ground, and when he stopped, he could still feel the remnants of the tackle.

Things took a second to recalibrate, gyroscope resetting to the new angle, processor cataloging the events in playback.

Megaman finally registered then the presence getting back up next to him.

That other Protoman.

Dusting himself off, white powder going airborne every time he patted the poncho off of the debris. Full face mask obscuring his entire expression. He seemed completely unaffected by the whole situation.

“Y-you saved me.”

It was more of a statement than a question. He was the only one who could have saved Megaman.

The adult robot turned that blank mask towards him. “Anything broken?”

Megaman shook his head no.

“That’s good.”

He tensed, because this wasn’t right. What did this Protoman want?

“Are you going to take me away again?”

The other robot jolted, as though electricity rocketed through him.

“No, no I’m not going to do that.”

The vehement that was able to fit in that robotic synth surprised him. And against his will, Megs relaxed. He was so confused.

“Then why did you—?”

A boom collided near the two of them, leaving a crater in its wake. When a red streak bolted at them, he knew who it had to be. Protoman, the familiar face he’d come to know, was fastly approaching.

“Leave my brother ALONE!!”

Protoman snarled, the whine of the blaster charging emanating the air the closer he got.

However, like he came, the other robot vanished in a burst of speed, almost like Quickman in pace. There was no doubt who was outmatched here. Proto arrived unable to do anything but fume.

“Chh, what a creep.” Protoman scoffed, then reached out a hand to lift Megaman up, “Ya alright? Didn’t spook you too bad? ‘Cause I swear, next time he shows his helmet head I’ll—”

“No, it’s okay. He…did save me. I’m just,” He hissed out a noise, a spark shooting up his leg circuits. Definitely out of place, the sharp parts must have knocked a few wires too.

His brother’s expression shifted to that rare concerned look. The one that made Megs feel cared for. Like he was something precious that could be lost. “Let’s get Doc to take a look at that.”

“What about the minerals?”

Protoman knelt and helped get Megaman situated into a position where he could carry him on his back. The troubled frown turned into a carefree smirk. He jabbed his thumb at the field, and lo and behold, the other robot masters lay defeated in a pile, slowly trying to get back up, “Ehhhhhh, I think we’re pretty soundly beat Megs. Don’t worry. We’ll get ‘em next time!”

And Megs held on tight as his brother and the rest of the group retreated back home. And though Protoman made many attempts to get a conversation started, Megaman kept silent.

Why had the other Protoman let him go?

He had to find out why.

#submission #proto swap au #pm!mega #rs!proto #pm!proto #writing #explodes explodes explodes #this is still so fun and good #thank youuuuuu #this marks the beginning of the new status quo hehe

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yourlocalcorviddad · 1 year ago

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Ok ok but, this piqued my song story writer heart.

Hosier has a song, Work Song, and just, agh, ramble under the cut

* followed by italics denote the beginning and end of a lyric excerpt.

Three ~ are a line break.

*Boy's was working on empty; is that the kinda way to face the burning heat?*

The pounding of his head and ache in his chest was the first thing he felt, the throbbing of the likely concussion and the likely fractured ribs beating a strange symphony. It felt like a hangover from hell, but he knew it wasn't something so simple.

*Boys when my baby found me, I was three days on a drunken sin.*

He felt a couch under him, the back of the couch pressed against one of his arms, a pillow under his neck but the face mask still on. So either a known person who didn't need to look.

Or an unknown who actually respected his privacy.

*I woke with their walls around me; nothing in the room but an empty crib*

When he finally opened his eyes, he was careful to try and make it seem like he'd not woken yet, just in case. He didn't recognize the apartment. Walls covered in a mural of a galaxy in space. Done likely by hand and well crafted, even he could tell that. Opposite the couch he was on, across a coffee table littered with both baking magazines and books as well as space books as science magazines, was a crib, seemingly empty but used recently from the rumpled blankets, so not a newborn considering the crib had toys in it appropriate for a baby or young toddler.

Another sweep of the room would have to wait till his head stopped throbbing, the light in the room giving his headache new energy as he carefully regulated his breathing to manage it.

How long had he been there? It was clearly day time from the light from the window he could see from the corner of his eyes, so it's been a few hours. Last thing he remembered was a fight with one of scarecrow's more tenacious minions getting a good hit in on his head and falling from the roof into a dumpster before blacking out.

He'd expected to wake up in the dumpster, or tied up to use as a experiment by the rogue doctor, or, if he was lucky (don't think about how he wasn't lucky, how you were to late, always to late) maybe Alfred had realised something was wrong and came and got him.

But this was none of those and he wasn't sure quite what level of concern was needed.

He'd realized his suit was taken off, before having seen it folded beside the coffee table, due to the extra large soft shirt he was wearing over bandages.

"You're awake. How's your head? Took quite a tumble last night." The Midwestern accented voice startled him, but he kept the reaction contained to just opening his eyes, braced for the pain the light brought only to find the window blinds pulled and the room not dar but dimmer, and much easier on his head.

"Where am I?" He didn't dare ask more than that. His head felt like he was feverish, likely the fog in his thoughts from the confusion, but it made his movements slightly less subtle. He was sure it was obvious as he looked over the person who's couch he was likely sleeping on.

*And I was burning up a fever; I didn't care much how long I lived,*

Loose jeans set low on slightly wide hips, flour dusted on the thighs in almost hand prints from clearly having dusted them off on it, with a t shirt with a different galaxy printed on it. Both were hidden under an apron that, when he looked, was tied higher up, just at rib level, and didn't quite sit flat like one would expect with the lithe body they had, a slight curve that-only due to research and interactions with others-implied pregnancy, at least with the slight darkening of the eye and nose bridge area differently than the olive tone the other supported on their face.

What confirmed his suspicions-as well as relaxed him a bit, rarely were parents as much a risk in cases like this, when they're sure there's no danger to their children-was the almost instinctively driven brush of a hand over their stomach as they noticed him looking them over.

*But I swear I thought I dreamed them; They didn't ask me once about the wrong I did.*

"Found you outside of my bakery in the dumpster, bleeding pretty badly from a head wound. I couldn't quite leave you there and I didn't know where your haunt was, so I just took you here. Don't worry, I didn't take your mask off, just the cowl part to clean and patch your injury, carefully washed the blood off before I put it back on too. How are you feeling? Your ribs likely hurt too, a few seemed broken, those always are a right pain to heal." The voice was decidedly low, but honest sounding.

They spoke from experience, he could tell. It made a spark of worry light up in his chest, covent l concern not unlike what had him bring Dick, and Jason, into his home, but not quite the same.

"My name's Danyal, but call me Danny please, I -" he was interrupted by a curious sounding chirp and half babble, a face similar enough to Danny's on the toddler as Danny was used as a stationary object to stand with before being picked up and settled with ease of practice on a hip, carefully positioned as to avoid the stomach.

"Sorry, Jordan here's been watching you curiously since I brought you in. He likes your cowl I think." He said it as if he didn't know, but he had that tone and look like any parent that knew what their kid meant when talking about something random.

~~~

*My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done.*

He'd stayed there a few days, until Danny, confirmed using he/him, felt safe letting him "go throw himself into danger again like it personally wronged him", but he found himself drifting back now and then.

He'd looked into Danyal Nightingale of course, but what information that he found implied fleeing from a bad situation, not someone who was hiding something, and considering they were at least a family of metas if not not entirely human, he didn't blame them.

But that didn't explain why he kept coming back.

Tim was who first pointed it out. After forcing his way into the cave and the Robin suit-having apparently gotten permission from Dick, who was also showing up more in costume, and had even come to dinner one night recent-he'd noticed the pattern.

*If the lord don't forgive me*

The grief was still there, it ached some days more than he had felt since he was 8.

On those nights, usually having a shadow clinging tighter to remind him of his humanity.

*I'd still have my babe and my babe would have me.*

It was Danny who suggested a solution he'd not thought of yet.

"Why not have him tried federally and in a neutral court away from here. They'll find him guilty and considering the meditations of his actions, there's no way he'll be able to use the insanity excuse."

Soon the Joker was out of his city and while he was still somehow communicating with his goons to cause trouble, it was easier to handle, and the grief was easier now, knowing, Jason's killer, after long last, was gone.

*In the low lamp light I was free; heaven and hell were words to me.*

So he didn't question much when he kept returning to the bakery, and eventually the apartment each night.

Tim and Alfred and Dick all encouraged it, and the therapy it prompted him to get to process the grief.

He didn't question the night he was invited in, Jordan, "Dan", asleep in his room, just him and Danny, when he took off his cowl and mask fully, remover wipe in hand to remove the extra layer of khol that hid what the masks didn't. Didn't question the gentle hand on his cheek.

He did question when Danyal, Daniel, told him about his past, about his former caped past. About friends lost to family that decided he was a monster that needed to be destroyed, about hiding in a time away from time and recovering with his mirror family turned children, one he currently carried and the other sleeping in the other room. But he was expected to ask, and given information to help protect others as much as to protect Danny.

Soon it wasn't just him stopping by the bakery, it was Danny and Jordan stopping by the mansion. Of dinners joined.

Even as far along as he was with Ellie, Danny helped when Tim's family were gone, comforted him as well, and helped Bruce bring him home officially when Tim had been unofficially theirs for weeks at that point.

The guest room set up for Danny was at one point never used again, as Bruce found more and more reason to sleep in his own bed instead of working to exhaustion every night.

A cool back to his front, arms protectively around Danny as they slept.

Prompt 129

Danny, now an adult, has just moved to the city of Gotham. Actually he’s been an adult for a while, but every once in a while he has to end his life, at least legally, lest someone get suspicious. Usually whenever Dan or Ellie does an oopsie and pulls a firebird with being reborn through their core.

So legally, one Danyal Nightingale, has just moved to Gotham to open a bakery (Thank you for the wonderful recipes and bonding Clockwork) while taking care of his practically newborn son Jordan. Of course Elnath- Ellie- had to pull a core retreat too, which is just his luck.

It wouldn’t be a problem, but he’s trying to not be so broody. A ghost- even a half-ghost- carrying another core though, has instincts turned up to like, eleven. Which again, wouldn’t be much of a problem if not for someone falling into his dumpster late at night bleeding. A vigilante, which he’s sworn to stay away from that life years ago. And it’s not a lethal wound…

But his instincts are screaming to not let the person bleed all around his nest, and he knows from experience that it would continue to bother him. Which is how he ends up with Batman on his couch to Dan’s glee if the ghost chirps are to go by.

#dpxdc #trans danny phantom #baker Danny au #spirit Halloween ship #Danny/Bruce #i don't know exactly what to do with Jason returning but i know Talia isn't good in this case #she's obsessed in this one which is why she made Damian #told him they'd had a thing when they didn't #Jason getting told Joker was still alive and all #but conveniently skipping over the “jailed for the rest of his natural life and put there by Bruce” part #so maybe no titans tower scene but he confronts at the bakery instead?#and gets the help his little proto-halfa core needs

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goblinhoursinsomniaramblings · 3 months ago

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me last week: jesus i am bad at the task i have set out to do. what am i thinking, trying to write mpreg of the type i like. i'm just not good enough to pull this off so other people would like it--

me today: *jams out an entire part 1 in one evening after five drafts just out of queer spite and self-indulgence* be queer do thoughtcrimes

Part 1 of the Clone Gestation AU. expect other parts to have more characters, plots and dialogue, but I need the setup out or I'll feel weird about the other completely self-indulgent scenes percolating in my head.

Also: do not go into this expecting real science, you're getting comic book science at most.

In Vlad’s defense, the theory had been sound.

Every ghost had a… he had heard many terms, but in his research he had gone with ‘ectonucleus’ rather than the more colloquial ‘core’. Even his Plasmius form was no different, a shell of ectoplasm projected from an organ simple enough to barely count as such. Vlad’s human mind drove it, but many ghosts lacked a living brain to truly take advantage of their power. One of the many reasons he kept pulling off so many of his schemes plans in full. Ghosts seemed to be all emotion and obsession, no thought or patience.

The ectonucleus had many ectobiological functions. It processed ectoplasm, functioned as a rudimentary nervous system in response to stimuli, and most importantly for his current project, it stored what passed for genetic information–except instead of copying it into trillions of individually specialized cells, it took the information as a whole and shaped raw ectoplasm around it. Ghosts could even use it reproductively, something Vlad had decided to skip past with the cloning.

Though, admittedly, some of the early readings on the control subject’s cohesion had been… worrying. Which shouldn’t have been possible. The cloning tank was full of ectoplasm that had been subjected to so many layers of filtration he could legitimately label it as surgical-grade. There shouldn’t have been a problem making a stable filtration barrier between the ectonucleus and the surrounding ectoplasm.

He hissed as he felt a painful lurching from his ghost half, leaning against the occupied cloning tank with one arm. This had been occurring with regularity since he had first seen the decline in the results, and it really was not helping him solve the problem! His Plasmius side, as powerful as it made him, was maddeningly psychoreactive–it wasn’t the first time it had thrown one of these tantrums, and if it kept this up he would dig out those schematics for–

He felt it, before he saw it. A probe of something too aimless and unformed to be curiosity. He looked up to see the little ectonucleus up against the wall of the tank, barely outlined by a little firefly glow, as though it could tell he was there.

It couldn’t, obviously. It was only reacting in response to stimuli, extending feelers of presence, for lack of a better term, to decide if the way ahead was safe. There was no way it could fumble blindly to him unless–

A somewhat less painful lurch in his chest answered his thought. Ah. Of course. Ghost ‘biology’ strikes again.

No. He knew what this was now, absolutely not. He was already too emotionally invested in the outcome of this project, and the control subject was already showing signs of eventual non-viability–

And the smaller proto-presence flickered away. He felt a jolt as he tried to figure out what happened, but his eyes soon caught the faint glimmer of the cloned ectonucleus, on the far side of the tank.

Alright. This was… ideal. It was better to keep some distance while the process was still unstable.

And if his ghost half was unhappy about it, it would be so much worse if he let himself get too attached close.

***

Years later, when Vlad discovers what, exactly, ghosts are powered by, he will think back on this and laugh for far, far too long.

***

The ectonucleus doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s far enough away, even when Plasmius tries to signal it. Still, inevitably he will brush by the tank, or work near to it, taking readings on the purity of the medical ectoplasm or checking the integrity of the tank, and when he looks up–

“Again? Really?!”

The little proto-ghost seems to press itself against the tank at the sound of his voice. He knows it is just responding because it isn’t exposed constantly to his voice, making him new, worth investigation. But Plasmius seemed to respond like it was cute, and oh, he had no idea his ghost half had that particular set of feelings.

(‘Sublimation’ would become a very familiar word to him one day.)

He could reinforce the tank. Make it impossible for the unformed, barely-there clone to notice him. Maybe, in another life, he does exactly that.

Instead, he heaves a sigh, and decides he will simply have to make his voice less novel. Didn’t he hear somewhere, once, that speaking to still-forming humans was necessary for development? The ectonucleus had yet to project a human body, but it was a clone of a halfa, so perhaps–

He would have to keep an eye on the medical readings to see if this was pop science (pointless, in other words) or was worth doing, but… how badly could he compromise himself, talking to something with all the personality of an amoeba?

***

“... and that is why I even bothered to show up! Honestly, Jack should count his lucky stars he’s worth more to me alive than dead right now!”

The proto-clone glimmered at the steady flow of Vlad’s voice. It truly didn’t seem to matter what he spoke of, it just… wanted to be near his voice. Even when Plasmius didn’t overtly signal it.

It was heartwarming distressing how much he loved her already for that craved even that level of attention. How lonely he felt every time he visited Jack and Maddie, and came back with nothing to show for it but more envy fury over what he never had the chance to have.

Originally, the plan had been to introduce a combination of subliminal training, organic nutrients, and a rapid growth solution to the tank to get the clone close to Daniel’s age and development. But…

“Jack kept blathering on about old stories of Jasmine and Daniel. Showed me pictures. Showed me baby pictures.”

He had realized just how much he would be skipping. How much he would still feel had been taken from him.

He had quietly struck that stage from the planning before sitting with the tank for the proto-clone’s regular enrichment session. Not only would it have made him thoroughly depressed angry to falsify an entire childhood for the clone he wouldn’t actually get to experience… he had the feeling doing the full accelerated growth regimen would have irreversibly worsened the cohesion damage.

It hadn’t exactly improved, but regular stimulation had greatly lessened the rate of damage over time. The problem came down to the filtration barrier. It was the equivalent to a cell wall, and ghosts usually had a much stronger one around their ectonuclei than his the control subject was capable of forming.

He hunched forward a little when Plasmius again made his chest lurch unpleasantly, hand rising unbidden to his sternum. Oh yes, he was fully aware of his ghost half’s input on the subject. Instincts were a powerful driving force.

When a ghost reproduced, there was a stage where the unformed proto-ghost would parasitize the parent’s core, and siphon ectoplasm to produce a stable filtration barrier. From there, they could generally be removed and placed somewhere safe so the parent could get back to their usual life as it finished developing, filtering the ambient atmosphere of the ghost zone until it had enough power to project a body. Even into maturation, a ghost could generally fend off destabilization by placing their essence into something, or even someone, formed of ectoplasm until they could reform on their own, a reflex honed at that very early stage.

Vlad was beginning to believe his instincts were responding to a ghost too underdeveloped to form its own barrier. Something it might only be able to learn by example.

Vlad leaned his head back against the tank. He had not wanted this step to even be on the table. The control subject was still damaged, with no guarantee he could reverse it. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t get attached without a guarantee of viability and this…

He let himself finally address it. This may not have been the same as the human equivalent, but it was so close it was impossible not to draw a parallel. It was essentially a ghost pregnancy, and the intensity of his ghost self’s psychoreactive nature practically guaranteed he would be thoroughly attached to this adorable awful little amoeba.

Perhaps he could do this in stages. Yes. Just a little at a time, until it could form its own barrier. Then, back in the tank.

“You are entirely too demanding. This is how children end up spoiled rotten, you know,” he scolded the single-celled nuisance.

It had the nerve to just glitter back at him. Such an attitude already.

He wondered if it was too late to go back to that tank-insulation plan.

It absolutely was.

***

He changed into Plasmius for the extraction. It seemed more conducive to holding something crafted purely from ectoplasm. He had barely placed his hand in the tank when the ephemeral little thing swam to him, settling in his palm snugly. He went intangible, and it hesitantly sank into his hand, then poked around, gradually finding its way to his own ectonucleus.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. A strand of pink energy wound around the little proto-ghost, and it let itself be cradled as the energy gently wove around it, flashes of light from within signaling a repeating cycle of weave, dispel, weave. Teaching it the ghost equivalent to homeostasis.

Now, however, came the real test. He transformed back to human…

And he still felt the new dimension to his so-called ‘core’, almost equivalent to a heartbeat. It was capable of existing flush with Plasmius, wherever his ghostly side rested when he was human again.

This felt promising. He didn’t exactly trust that.

He was so very tired of broken promises.

***

He still spoke to it. It had become a bonding exercise habit by this point. He would be sending email, or reading, or combing through footage from his many invasive discreet hidden cameras, and find himself talking as though it were listening. He listened back, as well, for the steady pulse of energy in, energy scattered, outlining the gradually strengthening core ectonucleus of his child control subject.

The only step left was to remove it as a ghost would and see if it learned to make a barrier on its own.

***

He may have put off the removal too long.

Those early reports of cohesion damage may have swayed his decision a little more than he wanted to admit. It was just easier… not knowing, until he was certain it could do this very basic thing. He would be staring at the tank, having gone to his lab specifically to see if it could function away from him like it would as a developing ghost and some new variable would come to him.

He should do a full cycling of the medical ectoplasm, just to be sure it’s as clean as possible for reintroduction.

He should make sure he has some emergency supplies on hand for his ghost side, just in case Plasmius fights him on this subconsciously and damages something.

He should go over lab security just in case, check the footage.

Really, it’s been too long since the tanks had a full maintenance cycle.

He had felt his ectonucleus shifting position a little. He needs to wait until it settles for a while.

(He really should have paid attention to where, exactly, his core was traveling to.)

On, and on, just him and the pulse of ectoplasm signaling all was, currently well. Although it did catch his attention that his ghost self seemed to be siphoning off some ectoplasm somewhere, even when he was human, that wasn’t accounted for in the energy transfer of barrier formation. It seemed to be evenly distributed over his entire body, some odd ectoplasmic underpinning to his circulatory system.

Initially, he just wrote it off as some sort of mapping of his human body. After all, the proto-clone was a halfa. It would need some extra education for when it projected a human body. There were some ‘vessels’ that terminated abruptly, but he couldn’t see to what purpose. Maybe it was waiting for something else to be finished, once it got enough of a boost.

He would have plenty of time to get the child control subject back in the tank, given the rate of growth.

***

He hadn’t been expecting a flare-up of his ecto-acne. He certainly wasn’t expecting it to behave extremely differently from every time previously. Truthfully, he only guessed what it was because on examination in the mirror, his eyes were glowing and spots appeared on his face. Itchy, awful, conspicuous spots.

No ectoplasm in them, however. Odd.

Almost like something was siphoning it off before it could–

***

By the time the Fentons helped him confirm his suspicion–and was that ever an awkward encounter–it was far too late to correct course. Well, technically, he could have worked something out. If anyone could have, he could.

‘Would’ was another matter entirely, though. Blame loneliness, a long-thwarted desire for family, age, loneliness, sentimentality, loneliness.

If going from a ghost pregnancy to an actual pregnancy was the price to pay for finally feeling connected to someone?

He had finally gone long enough without to do anything for that feeling. Up to and including planning the murder of anyone stupid brave enough to tell him otherwise.

Though he would have appreciated a warning about the word ‘clone’ no longer applying.

***

@vladdyissues I DID THE FUCKING THING i have no idea if you'll find introspective yet still in denial vlad being tsundere about wanting to be pregnant and getting hopelessly attached to as yet unnamed Dani nearly as appealing as I do but I still thank you for prodding me to do this fucker regardless

-manifesting a complete lack of fucks for the gender binary through a cis male character who would willingly be pregnant to have a kid ain't the usual way but fuck it, that's my coping method right now

#clone gestation au #vlad masters #ghost pregnancy #mpreg

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