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arbiterlexultionis · 7 months

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Instant Eternity

Time travel involving the infinite realms is truly a bizarre thing. Sometimes it follow one set of rules, and sometimes that set of rules may as well not exist. Usually, however, it works in one of two ways, the first is when the time travel is achieved through artificial means such as clockworks portals and allows for the altering of the timeline as one would expect time travel would allow. The other type of time travel is through natural means, portals usually, and it’s just that, Natural. That portal to the past opened up in the past the same moment it did in the present. If you step into the portal in the year 2000 then you already stepped out of the portal hundreds of years ago. It’s A Thing That Already Happened. Danny himself experienced this, as while chasing Vlad through time they fought in the middle of a Roman coliseum and, whoopsy daisy, set a really big fire. A fire which Danny had learned about years before he even had his accident.

So, the infimap can take the user anywhere, anywhen. And the infimap is just that, a map. It doesn’t make new roads, it just drags you across already existing paths. So it is a natural form of time travel, if you use it to go in time to kill your grandfather in order to insure your never born your interference will result in your grandparents falling in love and your birth.

Danny realizes that anytime he needs to heal from a battle or has gone 156 hours without sleeping or eating he can use the infimap to pop back to the past for a few days and then have the map bring back to the “Present”, exactly one second after he left. A three week vacation that lasted one second. At first he’s really wary about using this, worried about accelerated aging or getting lost in the time stream and a hundred other issues. At first.

It’s been months sense the accident. Sam and Tucker have both shot up several inches. Danny, on the other hand, hasn’t grown sense the accident. At all. They fought a ghost who could rapidly age opponents, a single slap turned Tucker into a decrepit old man. The ghost wrapped his hands around Danny’s throat and spent 5 minutes trying to strangle him while Danny bought time for Sam and Tucker to pull off the plan. The sucked him into the thermos, his influence on time ceased so Tucker returned to his proper state. “Jeez it sure is lucky he didn’t try and age me, right guys? Ha ha ha”. Danny gets blasted through a natural portal while making a trip through the zone and spends years trying to get home, not aging a day.

He can’t deny it after that, can’t ignore it. He’s immortal. He’s going to live forever. He’s going to watch his friends and family whither away and die out. He’s going to have to spend the rest of his life wandering from place to place trying not to get outed as the same 14 year old who save someone’s great great grandma 100 years ago.

After having his first middeath crisis, suddenly the only reasons he had to not spend years on end wandering the world and the past is gone, even if he loses the infimap, worst case scenario he’ll just take the long way home. Suddenly, he’s dreading the next 80 years of the “Present”. He decides that if he’s going to watch his friends and family grow old and frail he’s going to make sure it’s takes as long as it possibly could, from his perspective. By the time they’re 20 Danny’s gonna have 200 years under his belt.

He becomes a temporal tourist, hopping into the past every time the late night fights and schoolwork become to much. Spends years in every civilization imaginable, mastering every skill he can, leaving legends in his wake.

I feel like Danny and his adventures do have a lot of potential for story’s, as it’s a pretty good setup for having Danny in any type of time period or historical event for extended periods of time, fighting in the trenches of World War I, exploring the Americas during the era of colonialism, sailing the seas a swashbuckling vigilante pirate. I, however, have most of my related ideas being based around crossovers. So most of that will be in part two, so that people who like to filter out all that can still see this post.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #fic prompt #dp au #story prompt #writing prompt #danny phantom au #dp #Danny’s Immortal #temporal tourist #Temporal Tourist AU #Danny the next time Vlad goes on and on about his TWenTy YeARs ExperIANce: That’s cute #Dash pulls up to start something and Danny fresh from spending 13 years as a baker in Ancient Rome is just like Who’s this strange child?#He completely forgets about a English project for Lancer and when Lancers standing in front of his desk asking for it #Danny just like “it’s in… Um… in the bathroom “the bathroom? “yes “ okay go get it. Now.#Danny comes back two seconds later with the best project Lancer has ever seen. it’s autographed by Shakespeare #he had to ask what the project was before he left.

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delta-pavonis · 3 months

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Ooh, from the wip game: former mafia hob :D

I know I have posted bits and pieces of this in various places on Tumblr and Discord, but below is probably the largest segment of the WIP I have ever posted at once. And this is maybe about a quarter of it? It features an OC that I made up and then it turned out I was prescient because in my head Sandro looks pretty much exactly like Ethan from Maneskin. Also, to no one's surprise, this gets NSFW at the end. (WHAT?!? SMUT?!?!?! FROM MEEEE?!?!?!)

"And this guy, this Burgess, just had him locked in a giant glass sphere in his basement!"

"A human? Wouldn't he need air?"

Hob was in an ex-pat bar on the south end of Okinawa, doing a very good job of continuing to live completely off the grid just as he had for the past eight years.

The old man started up again and Hob strained to hear him across the length of the bar. "He just looked like a human. I worked there sixteen years and he didn't age a minute, hell he barely moved. I heard Burgess bragging once about how it was the God of Dreams that he caught! All I know for sure is what I heard directly, which is that Burgess kept asking him for things – magic, money, immortality – and the pale fucker just kept glaring at him. Never spoke a word. Just stared daggers with those unearthly blue eyes. I am telling you, if looks could kill, that old bastard would be dead thirty times over. Whenever that fairy King or whatever the fuck that shaved panther of a human-looking thing is gets out…" The guy whistled, leaning back from the bar and shaking his head. "The entire Burgess family tree is going to burn."

This man had Hob’s full attention now. He grabbed his drink and moved around to sit on the barstool next to him.

"I am sorry, where did you say you are from?" Hob asked, trying for casual, sizing up the ex-military guy. He had a muddled accent, but with a heavy dose of south London. His salt-and-pepper hair had been kept buzzed even though he had clearly been out of the service for a long time.

"What's it to you?" The man was immediately bristly, crossed his arms over his chest. He was defensive and closed off and Hob was going to need to work to get more information. Hob sighed. Or take the easy way out… just pay him for the information.

The Okinawan summer was too hot for this. Hob would give it one shot, try to explain, but if that didn't work it was Plan E for Easy. "I have an interest in the supernatural. And you certainly seem to have seen something. Could I ask you a few more questions?" The old-timer just stared at him, completely deadpan, unblinking. It made Hob take a sip of his whisky with its melted ice and then press the glass to his temple. "I can pay you for your time."

He perked up immediately after that.

> > > > > | | < < < < <

Two days later – and after an exchange of enough money to set that old-timer’s family up for generational wealth – Hob was settling into his Business Class seat on the long haul from Tokyo Haneda to Rome Fiumicino. He tapped out an email telling Gio his flight to Palermo was going to get in at 08:20 and would he be so kind as to send around a car? He needed to stop and see il Barone first (because his knee was bad enough as it was without getting kneecapped for failing to pay his respects) and then straight to the grotta. And make sure the shovel is in the car? Grazii.

It was his Stranger. It had to be. The description was uncanny. And the quick sketch Hob had drawn on a bar napkin had resulted in a rather emphatic positive identification.

And even if it wasn’t his Stranger, there was something being kept in that basement that probably needed rescue. There were paltry few things in the world, as Hob had learned over the centuries, that deserved to have their freedom completely taken from them.

Almost 22 hours after sending that email to Gio, Hob stepped out into the salty Mediterranean air of Palermo and sighed. His white linen three-piece suit with light blue shirt fit the aesthetic of the region as much as the weather. The smells, the breeze, the sounds – yeah, okay, Hob had missed it. But this was no time to linger. Focus, Hob! First, he had to give his regards to Salvatore and then he could go dig up his stash from his time in the Family Business. He put on his hat and dark sunglasses and walked out into the sunlight.

In the aftermath of 1889 Hob had, unsurprisingly, a lot of anger and frustration to work out. He ended up falling back on a reliable skill set he hadn't tapped in awhile: violence.

It was bare knuckle boxing first, which earned him enough money to leave for the States without disturbing his securities in the UK. He continued with underground boxing for a bit, because he was fucking good at it, until he got noticed.

Hob got picked up by Giuseppe “the Clutch Hand” Morello and Ignazio “the Wolf” Lupo and the rest was history.

First they took him in as a base-level associate, just another meatheaded guy who could fuck people up for them. And he made it to the Castellammarese War, which was as good a time as any to fake his own death.

But, by pure happenstance and a whole lot of luck, Salvatore D’Aquila caught him in the act, pig's blood everywhere, mutilated body that clearly wasn't Hob at his feet and well. That had required a bit of explaining. Explaining lead to talking, talking lead to negotiating, and suddenly Hob was heading upstate to train with the best.

And so it was, with some excellent mentorship on handling firearms and his innate knack for getting himself out of trouble, Hob became one of the most feared associates in Cosa Nostra.

In fact, he became The Associate.

See, he was never going to be a made man; he didn't have the proof of a Sicilian, or even Italian, heritage that he needed to be a ranking Family member. But any capo worth his salt wasn't going to turn away this level of skill and finesse.

And in return they had kept his secret. Mostly because they knew they had given him the means to kill them all if it was otherwise.

Well, it wasn’t like the entire Family knew. Just Salvatore and his immediate blood relations. Who he needed to stop and say hello to first, then to business.

Once the meeting was done, he headed to the coast.

When Hob left the Family Business he had literally put all of his gear into an air-tight oak box and buried it. One of the things Hob had learned over the centuries was that, more often than not, symbolism mattered. So it wasn't a surprise to find that when Hob opened the wooden box with a crowbar it was like seeing good friends come back from the dead. His shotgun. His sabre. His pistols.

He buried these along with his career in Cosa Nostra in 1998. It should have been earlier, but the six or so years after 1989 were a bit of an alcohol and cocaine tinted haze and it took him another three years after getting sober to work on his exit strategy. But once he was out he had abandoned it all and never looked back.

In fact, it was only in the past few months that Hob had let himself pick up a gun again to do some target shooting. Suddenly he was very glad of that coincidence.

After filling his duffle Hob stared down into the empty casket of his former life. He had never, ever expected to be in this position again, most certainly not less than a decade after abandoning it.

Crouched amongst the sand and the rocks of the beachfront cave, he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and sighed. "The things I do for you, Stranger." He closed the lid.

"Ti Umbra?" Sandro had been watching Hob silently up until now. Even as a little kid, Alessandro had called the thing that haunted Hob his Shadow. He was an eerily perceptive child, often ostracized from his peers because of it – which of course meant that when Hob had arrived in Sicily in the early 1980s they had become easy friends. Now in his early 30s, Sandro was mostly a driver, but knew his way around a weapon, as any son of a Don should. Hob had hoped he would leave, go to college, get out, but Hob never did convince him to. He was a good kid, he didn't deserve this kind of life.

"Si." Hob put his hands on his knees and levered himself up. "I think that he needs my help." A sigh as he kept staring at the box. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me, Bettino." The nickname had come from the diminutive of the diminutive of Roberto, which Sandro’s family knew Hob as. It was an endearment used only between them. "Only He could bring you back to this, to the Family." Hob felt the other man's hand on his shoulder and laid his own over it. The feel of those fingers was achingly familiar. "Let me come with you. You should not go on the rampage you are about to embark on alone, my friend."

Hob picked up Sandro's hand, placed a kiss on the knuckles. "Not a chance. I won't put you in such danger. And I won't let you see me like that." Alessandro hadn’t even been born yet when the Associate was working hardest, in the heydays of Murder, Inc., and all that entailed, when Hob rarely had a night when he wasn’t washing the gunpowder from his hands.

Sandro laughed. "I have seen you every other way, why not this one?" His arms went around Hob's shoulders from behind and he moved his lips to the shell of Hob's ear before dropping into Sicilian. "One more go at it? For old time's sake? Last chance to use me as His stand-in." He laughed even more at Hob's sharp inhale. "You think I didn't know? Oh, Bettino." He nuzzled into the hair at Hob’s nape. "That's how I was able to pretend you really loved me."

"Sandro!" Hob pushed away and whirled around, looking over his former lover’s dark hair and olive-bronze skin, high cheekbones and pouting pink lips, wiry build and black-brown eyes. Not wanting to misspeak, he answered back in English. "I did – and still do – really love you, you know that."

"Yes, but not as you love Him." Sandro shook his head as he moved in to press their foreheads together, arms back around Hob's shoulders. "You would not come back to the Family for me. You would not go to war for me. And that is okay. I know my place. I made my peace with that years ago, when you left." He leaned in to speak against Hob's lips. "But I would ask if you would have me one last time."

Hob let Sandro pull him to the ground amongst the rocks inside the small cave. Hob's shirt and vest were already discarded, his sleeves rolled up and his collar unbuttoned. He unbuttoned Sandro's shirt and pulled it down so it caught in his elbows, draped down his back low enough for Hob to run his lips over the huge tattoo of Santa Rusulia – Patron Saint of Palermo, invoked for protection in times of plague – wearing a crown of roses and standing amidst a copse of lilies outside a cave not so different from the one they are currently in, looking out to the sun setting over the sea, that covered his entire back. Hob drew that image, originally charcoal on paper, while they were sitting on the beach watching the sun set on Sandro's 19th birthday in the early ‘90s. He didn't know that Sandro had even saved the picture until a shootout a year later had Hob ripping off the young man’s shirt to stop the bleeding and found the image permanently inked into his skin.

Sandro knew more about Hob than anyone living. They had spent four years as lovers in the mid-'90s. Hob had gotten sober for Sandro. He had left Cosa Nostra for Sandro, had begged for Sandro to come with him. But he was too scared of his father, Salvatore “the Baron,” to leave. He was worried about the fate of his mother, his sisters. Hob couldn’t begrudge him that. It still stung.

Hob shucked Sandro's pants down his thighs and moved his hand around to his ass, thinking that he would tease him dry before trying to find something slick back in the car. Instead, Hob's fingers found warm, flat silicone. He slumped forward with a moan and his forehead hit between Sandro's shoulder blades. "Oh fuck, Sandro. You have been full with this the entire time?"

"Ready for you, Bettino." He sighed, soft and sweet as candy. He let out a high-pitched cry as Hob slowly pulled the plug out and Christ it was huge Hob would be able to just…

There was a thmpt as the silicone object hit the dense sand a few feet away, flung aside as Hob frantically tried to get his slacks down as quickly as possible. As soon as his cock was free Sandro's hands were reaching back to grab it, lubricant that the horny little weasel must have been carrying in his bloody pocket smeared all over his fingers, readying Hob to just…

Sandro sat back and Hob slid into him to the hilt, all in one stroke, easy as breathing, smooth and perfect.

They stayed that way for a long moment, readjusting to each other. The first movement was Hob's hands stroking from Sandro's thighs up to his chest then pressing them together. When they started rocking Sandro let his head fall back with a sob.

"Did you keep your hair long for me, too?" Hob wrapped the waist-length ponytail around his fist and tugged. It made Sandro moan just as sweetly as it had all those years ago. "That's it, sing for me, bell'uccellino." He snapped his hips up and Sandro wailed; he always was such a vocal lover, his pretty bird.

#yes another mafia AU #in this one Hob is still canon immortal and Dream is still King of Dreams and Nightmares #fishbowl rescue fic #Dreamling #Pavonis writes

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adhdslugcrimes · 20 days

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Immortality is lame au

Wally: let me die, Dick! I've been alive far too long and I can't take this bullshit anymore!

Dick, death's son: noooo, I can't, I love you too much!

Wally: then take me to your place than, I'm tired of doing taxes and talking to idiots! I don't want to work for both my bosses anymore!

Dick: but... The human experience you get to have as a living, breathing creature.

Wally, who been through shit for 80 years still 29yo: it's shit.

#dick grayson #wally west #birdflash #immortality is lame au #Dick is son of death and fell in love with Wally while taking some souls #Wally is tired #he can't even grow old he's 29yo forever #he hates it #he's better than Ra. Dick.#let ya mans die #to pay taxes because you can't die and if you're going to prison it's not gonna be over tax fraud #inspired by the writing prompt Tumblr #but done dumb because it think it's funny #he wants to die #he's so jaded

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minecraftbookshelf · 3 months

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Marriage of State: The King of Rivendell

Xornoth only really has one look throughout the AU, with a few minor variations and, of course, The Armor Edition TM.

Once again the primary sources for inspiration are the skin for the character in question and the architectural style of their home empire, in this case, Rivendell. Rivendell also draws (canonically) on Tolkein's elves, though only incidentally. I've opted to take that and run with it so the original Rivendell, and other elements of Lord of the Rings, both elvish and mortal, are incorporated. The other major contributors are viking-era Scandinavia, and Rohan, also from lotr.

The Elf Xornoth skin is a recolored version of Scott's base Rivendell skin with a few other minor changes (one shoulder cape, long pants)

Technically speaking the Demon Xornoth skin isn't super relevant to their design for the AU, but I wanted to throw it on here anyway, as something to keep in mind.

So the easiest way of doing this is going to be top to toe I think so we'll start with the antlers!

There are three main points (no pun intended) regarding Xornoth's antlers.

They are probably not as big as you think they are, because Xornoth has only had two or three sheds. They are adult antlers, but young adult antlers.

For antler design I've based them off of Scottish Red Deer.

They are made of obsidian and have been ever since Xornoth first allowed Exor into their head.

Under the antlers, Xornoth has magenta hair (just past shoulder length with the slightest bit of curl) and eyes, though the eyes tend to be a bit pinker when they are having A MomentTM

They do wear jewelry but its usually fairly simple. Earrings, an antler ring or two. They only wear their crown when they absolutely have to.

Their wings are Snowy Owl wings

specifically, snowy owl wings with a higher proportion of black on them, as in the images above, especially the one on the right.

Xornoth tends to dress relatively utilitarian as well, in dark colors that stand out among the blues most common in Rivendell, they usually wear black and autumn colors.

As far as style goes, the heaviest inspiration is the lord of the rings films, specifically simpler elvish styles, such as those worn by Legolas, especially in Rivendell or Lothlorien. (The main thing coming from the actual Xornoth skin is the single conclusion of "knee high boots") But with embroidery more akin to what you see in Rohan where it contrasts rather than blends in

Like so.

Rivendell has a lot of embroidery and knotwork incorporated into their clothes, a lot of it with gold-thread as well. Especially for royalty.

Xornoth does wear a cloak, it is designed to be fairly easy to remove for flying reasons, but is a sturdy and warm piece of clothing regardless, due to Xornoth being cold all the time.

Their armor is netherite, in style its basically just this

When Xornoth is older and starts wearing longer robes more often (currently only when they absolutely have to at extremely formal occasions) they will basically just be dressing like Elrond. Color pallet and style and all.

They also usually have at least one sword on them, often two.

Lizzie || Jimmy || Joel ||

Art

Lizzie || Jimmy || Jimmy Eeveelution

#rain rambles #marriage of state au #xornoth #look what i found!#thats one thing checked off the list of 'lost and found in the drafts folder'#mos character designs #empires smp #empires s1 #next up is pixlriffs #also really wanna write a my immortal style description for Xornoth now #mos: worldbuilding #mos: xornoth

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itty-bitty-sunshine · 6 months

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( "Immoral Immortality" — 1K words )

Immortal au writing made by my sweetheart @sukis-artchive based off this comic while we were chatting on discord

⚠️ Warning for violence and blood

—

It started off like any other night. Perkeo preferred the night shift. It was dimmer, quieter, and over all just less to handle. Well...

"Goodnight Pear..."

Moon's voice came from behind them, though thus wasn't the first and far from the last. Perkeo didn't jump at the sound or the menacing words. They quite liked the nickname 'pear', and as for 'goodnight' it wasn't meant to sound like a threat. Merely Moon greeting them, as he couldn't say "good day".

"Hey Moon"

Perkeo sounded happy, yet looked a little tired.

"How have you been?"

Moon had been doing well lately, (Perkeo knew this) but that didn't nothing to ease their mind.

"G-g...g-Gh-ooooD-"

His voice box glitches out. Perkeo refrains from sighing. They knew this would happen eventually, but the short peace with Moon doing well felt good. Too good. They were so close to fixing him. If only he could have held out a little longer. Moon isn't to blame though, he doesn't know.

And so Perkeo repeats the process they made, down to a tea. They learned how to buy the most time by doing this over, and over, and over again. Funny how similar that was to their 'life'. They always had a 2nd... or 87th chance to try again. Maybe get better results.

"Moon?"

They ask hesitantly, as always.

"Are you alright?

They learned not panicking at his silence results in less of a mess.

His pupils turn to red pinpricks, Perkeo isn't surprised, yet their heartrate still spikes. Some things never change.

A bead of sweat starts to form on their cheek, they know what's to come.

Moon reaches out to caress their face. Perkeo has learnt to accept fate.

...

"...Moon?-"

"Moon?"

"...Moon?"

"Moon!" Moon snaps their attention to Perkeo.

"Are you even listenin' to me? Geez." they hold a tablet, bangs barely cover what appears to be a small bandage.

"Sorry, Starlight, my mind was over the moon..." He looks around, getting his bearings, trying to remember what was happening... before that.

"Uh-huh"

The noise pulls him out of his thoughts, he doesn't even know what "that" was. Unable to recall it properly. Strange.

"So what were you saying?" He feels bad ignoring his friend, even if it was accidentally. What's wrong with you?

"I said we're done, you doofus, now go charge because we have a long day tomorrow... I'll close everything."

'All done'? Ohhh it must have been maintenance of his software, that's what the tablet was for. And it explains his forgetfulness, he was always like this after 'check ups'. But he trusts Perkeo.

He gets up off the desk, and reaches to grab them. "I'll leave it to you, then~ nighty night, friend. Sleep well."

He mutters a 'see you tomorrow' under his breath, as they bonk heads. His hand gently holding the sides of their face, fingers threading through their fluffy hair. He doesn't register their rigid posture. Or the slight tremor that courses through their whole body. Not even the small frown gracing their lips.

He walks off to charge, just as they had said.

Perkeo sighs, placing the tablet down. They had held the screen cautiously out of view from Moon the entire time. And start to utter Sun's cleanup chant "Clean up, Clean up".

They had luckily knew thought ahead to leave out the disinfectant. They had never been so grateful that the DCA cannot enter behind the desk, as they look down. Even through the curls falling into their eyes, they can see the crimson smear on the side of the furniture.

Their smear.

A bloody handprint slid across the hard surface.

Perkeo shivered as they walked around the desk. Trying not to look at the red mark. It was so painfully obvious among the bright colours of the daycare. The smell of iron becomes stronger as they get closer. Their stomach twists uncomfortably at the scent.

They reach for the disinfectant, grabbing it as a shudder runs through their body. They ignore it and get back to work. Hmmm, they'd get used to it, eventually.

Grabbing a small cloth, they dab it with disinfectant and get to work. Nose scrunching, they slowly build up the courage to touch the blood. Why is this so hard?

not like it's the first time.

Suddenly the feeling of sickness overwhelms them. They crumple a bit. The sight of their hand lining up perfectly with the print made them gag. It wasn't a pleasant sight, they forgot this would happen.

Memories flash back to them. Of all the other times they made the mistake of touching the handprint like this, instead of wiping it clean immediately.

Then, just like every other time, the other Memories come back.

Well if you can even call them that. 'Memories' sounds happy. Perkeo knew that the connotations don't mean anything though. They've been through too much, and learned that the bad experiences are also 'memories' in a sense.

Their body spasms, as their chest rocks with sobs. They'd never get used to extreme pain. Not even with how many 'deaths' they experienced.

It hurt so bad.

—

Their eyes were swollen and puffy with streaks from their crying. They learned that the only way to live longer was to not fight it. It would toy with them as much as possible, before going for the kill.

It tore into Perkeo like a feast, slicing them with sharp claws. They had been oh so gentle before, Perkeo may never get used to the change.

They didn't want to give it the satisfaction of a scream. It would only make it hurt more then. Perkeo remembers that.

They let it mutilate them. It scratches them, punctures them, drags them by their wounds and hair, pulls them apart. But this was a friend, Perkeo knew it was worth it. It'll all be over soon.

They find some comfort in that, feeling empty otherwise. The small voice of preservation that they thought they long since killed was barely a whisper.

...no....run...

Huh, now that's a surprise. Perkeo thinks, too late. The voice was warning them. Their body even knew what was to come at this point. Oh the irony, the vessel who puts them through this wanting the pain to stop. The only reason Perkeo sticks around here is because of their immortality. If it wasn't for their body, Perkeo wouldn't need to die.

Nothing, not Perkeos experience, nor all the past pain inflicted upon them, could prepare them for what's to come. Perkeo always blocked out this part, it's happened before.

They let out a single cut off screech. Their vocal chords still not fully healed from the last time.

As Moon forces his hand into their socket, violently ripping out their eye.

Blood splatters everywhere, the eyeball bursting in his grip. Perkeo crumbles to the ground.

...should have listened.

The little voice chimed, as Perkeo finally backs away from Moon, for the first time that night. Bad idea, and Perkeo knew it.

Though their immortal side has given them an aloof disposition and immeasurable tolerance. Instinct always found a way to persist.

They knew backing away would make it worse, but it hurt too much now for them to do anything else. They knew this would lead to it ending quicker.

Moon grabs them, claws digging into their flesh. They manage to make it behind the desk, his fingers raking through their skin before losing its grip. They try to pull themselves up, bloodied hands smearing the desk as they use it to push themselves up. They grab the tablet and force a shut down.

Hmmm, this is one of the first times they didn't die...

It takes them hours to fix up themselves and clean the mess, but when they finally do dread starts to well up again. Moon was shut down, but absolutely covered in Perkeos blood. Atleast this time Perkeo remembered to not leave any handprints on Moon. It made this so much harder to clean.

The dread still doesn't subside when they finish, as they pick up the tablet. Connecting it to Moon, they replay the footage. Watching their torture always made it worse.

Deleting the files, they reboot him.

They sigh.

"Hopefully this time we can last a little longer."

#after a few times im sure they'd turn numb to it #there are more important things to care about than the blood on silicone #out of everything what hurts the most is that it wears their friend's face #Suki you're the absolute greatest kissing you kissing you kissing you #immortal au #immortal au writing #dca au #fnaf moon #oc #fnaf y/n #cw blood #cw violence #✨️: suki writing

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whumpy-wyrms · 3 months

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WOAHHHH NEW OC STORY IDEA ALL A SUDDEN

okay so vampire guy works at a morgue and feeds from the dead bodies but it’s never Enough. it keeps him under control but he does needs fresh blood once in a while. anyway this human guy dies, was brought to the morgue, and the vampire guy drains him of all his blood (as he does to every corpse) but this human died recently and his blood was fresher and tastier than the others. vampire leaves the dead human in one of those corpse shelves for the night (vampire guy lives in the morgue somewhere) and the next morning BOOM. the human guy is awake and alive and healthy as if nothing happened. immortality moment!! woah

and the vampire guy is like SWEET!!! new infinite food source of fresh delicious human blood!! now he doesn’t have to feed from those gross corpses anymore or go hunting and risk being killed by pesky vampire hunters.

but vampire guy still has to work at the morgue. that’s his whole business. that’s his home and how he needs to make money to buy food for his new human bloodbag (guy can survive without food but his blood tastes better when he’s not starving).

and it’s strange for the vampire guy sometimes. he’s always spending time around dead humans and this is the first time he’s gotten close to an actual live human before. and even though he’s keeping him captive, he still likes making conversation sometimes. it gets lonely being an immortal vampire who’s hasn’t had a close relationship in decades, and who’s instinct it is to suck the blood out of every human he meets. and since immortal human guy is trapped there and has nothing to do, he might as well talk to him. he’s lonely too and now just found out he’s immortal. he doesn’t wanna be alone forever

but obviously he hates being fed from by a vampire and desperately wants to escape. vampire guy kills him a bunch of times just because he Can. sometimes he drains him of all his blood when he’s extra hungry, sometimes he just kills him for disobeying or trying to escape to teach him a lesson. sometimes he kills him for fun, for the thrill of the hunt. dying is PAINFUL as fuck to the human. he hates dying even though he always comes back fully healed.

sometimes the human wants more things to keep him occupied so he’s not bored all day trapped in the basement of a morgue (or maybe he’s kept locked in a corpse shelf during the day, extremely claustrophobic and dark, with no way out, trapped next to a bunch of human corpses. who knows). but the vampire doesn’t wanna waste his hard-earned cash on buying his human silly unnecessary things just because he’s bored.

so sometimes he lets the human help him work. vampire guy owns the morgue and has no other employees, and only works at night to avoid sunlight, so human wouldn’t be able to call for help anyway. human guy hates being around dead bodies but it gives him something to do and he technically gets paid for it in a way. now vampire guy gets things done twice as fast and has more money and free time too. he buys his human the stuff he wants, like books or puzzles, and they sometimes play games together.

human was a nobody. he probably died from some freak accident and was brought to the morgue by the hospital. he didn’t have a family or any loved ones that claimed his body or set up his funeral. nobody came looking for his body to bury or cremate because Nobody cared that he was gone. and that just makes things a whole lot sadder because even if he does somehow escape the vampire, where’s he gonna go? he’s legally dead. Everyone thinks he’s dead. he’s supposed to be dead. there wouldn’t be anywhere to go or anyone to go to because he obviously can’t tell people he’s immortal, that would just cause more questions, and surely being experimented on by scientists would be worse than whatever he’s going through right now, right?

so human guy has to accept his life now, as an immortal bloodbag for a vampire who works at a morgue. his life is filled with blood and death, but there’s nothing he can do about it. maybe vampire guy eventually gains sympathy for him, and starts to feel bad for his pathetic excuse of a life. maybe they eventually become friends. or maybe the human stabs a wooden stake through the vampire’s heart. who knows

anyway these guys have existed in my head for nearly an hour and they don’t even have names but i am going insane over this holy shit???? RAUHHHH i’ve gotta make picrews dude i gotta draw them. new blorbos. new brainrot. i prommy i’ll still get tllr chapter 13 out today or tomorrow but WOAHH look at these new little guys they’re so silly

#AHHHHH i love vampires and immortals and morgues #3 in 1? YES #if anyone has name recommendations feel free to tell me #i’m most definitely gonna write something about these guys #probably not a long lore driven series like tllr but Something #maybe i will also make an au where the human is taken by Anton and experimented on because Anton wants to learn more about his immortality #there’s just so many possibilities with this concept and i love it i love these silly guyssss #brand new blorbos were born today. happy birthday #wyrms says stuff #no idea what this series will be called either so idk what to tag this as yet #i need name ideas!! ahhhhh #vampires #death #murder #death mention #vampire whumper #immortal whumpee #silas oc #aspen oc

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

Note

A group of downworlders choosing to trust in Alec over Clary, Izzy, and Jace. Alec getting recognition for 'his people' slowly but consistently improving relations, making compromises, and keeping promises vs pretty talk that promises the world but will strike you in the back for speaking against them.

Okay so like this went in such a different direction than I thought it would. I really don’t plan out the fics before I write them. Plots have never worked for me.

I see where the veins of the fic are going and try to flow along with them. So I’m not really sure how this ended up over 4k words of unplanned randomness but i hope you enjoy it

Like half of this fic was a complete accident.

—

Izzy seems shocked, the first time a seelie informant ignores her red lipped and heated smile.

Instead they head to Alec, and then stick by him. Watching the rest of the shadowhunters warily until Alec escorts them out of the institute and thanks them for their information.

“What was that?” She hisses and Alec doesn’t understand what is confusing for her.

“My job?” He asks, flatly but he offers the benefit of the doubt and when she sends him a glare and flounces her hair before stalking off, he squints in her direction. “I thought Izzy was still with Simon, is she looking for something new?”

“No idea, buddy.” Jace says but he also is looking a little putout and so Alec ignores it.

If he paid attention to every alarming thing his siblings and their entanglements did, he wouldn’t have time to breathe.

—

It happens again and again until even Clary is getting upset and Alec doesn’t get it.

“I’m more approachable! I have a better personality!” He hears Jace complaining at one point as Alec escorts a werewolf to Cat’s hospital so he can show her to the magical ward.

Alec once again ignores them as Izzy gestures to herself, “have you seen my outfit today?”

And Alec rolls his eyes because his siblings are ridiculous, thinking that people who are scared or in danger are going to focus on appearances.

And Alec knows he’s the least approachable looking, but that’s never been why he’s becoming the preferrence.

“Tell Magnus thank you.” The werewolf tells him, like it was Magnus who escorted her pregnant body to the hospital rather than Alec.

“I will.” Alec promises, because in all honesty, this has nothing to do with him and everything to do with Magnus.

He’s not being picked because he’s the most approachable or the strongest looking shadowhunter, or because of his personality. And he’s certainly not chosen for his position of authority.

Alec is picked because he’s Magnus’.

And Magnus will never allow what belongs to him to hurt what he protects.

And Alec works hard.

Not to be trustworthy himself, because it’s not his place to be.

He strives to never break the trust Magnus’ people have in Magnus.

The trust that Magnus put on the line when he declared Alexander a safe haven for his people.

And Alec will do whatever he needs to never, ever take this honor for granted, or to hurt Magnus by damaging it.

Because it isn’t that Magnus was declaring that Alec is friendly to downworlder.

He is declaring that he trusted Alec — Magnus’ Alexander — to never purposefully harm anything that was under Magnus' authority.

It’s not about Alec as a person.

It’s about what he means to Magnus.

And Alec is going to protect this, the strongest of Magnus’ declarations of devotion.

And if that means showing up at three in the afternoon to a traffic accident—

— half asleep and with pillow creases on his cheek from how quickly he got there —

— because when he’s being asked for specifically, by a very frantic werewolf who unsuspectingly went into labor in a cab, accidentally causing a crash and risking the exposure of the shadowworld.

Alec goes.

He leaves Magnus sleeping because Magnus has his own job and he trusts Alec to this.

Because a great deal of Magnus’ authority relies on his reputation and Magnus is not someone easily reached.

So Alec goes and he gets her there safely while his team covers up what caused the crash and then he activates his iratze so his fingers can heal as they’re broken and rebroken and he’s honestly relieved.

He’d rather have dozens of his bones broken over and over again than have to catch a baby from a stranger's vagina, but he would do it.

If he had to.

For Magnus.

“Oh thank fuck.” Alec barely manages to get out. He’s kneeling next to the werewolf, holding her hand with his jacket on the floor in case he needs something soft and cleanish.

Apparently they ‘had to wait’ which Alec thinks is hardly fair when her water broke while he was carrying her spasming and forcefully transforming body.

He is burning every article of clothing he’s wearing as soon as he gets home.

Alec gets to his feet and launches across the room, trying not to be too queasy.

“It’s not that bad.” Cat mocks him after the werewolf is magicked calm and wheeled away, and she is smirking at him.

“I wouldn’t touch a woman even if she had a dick.” Alec says dryly, because seelies have no shame and think threesomes should be offered like candy, “but it’s always so much worse when it’s that.” And Alec gestures with a grimace, “magical babies are so much less gross.” He mutters and Cat laughs, smooth and light and comforting after his trauma.

“Babies born from cannibalism, murder and soul destroying power are less gross?” She asks and Alec nods empathically.

“Cat, I have vaginal fluid over most of my body.” And Alec grimaces, “unless Magnus ever got bored of his genitals again, this was never going to be an issue I ever had to deal with. It’s part of our private vows.”

“Oh?” Cat asks like she’s humoring but Alec can tell by the sudden gleam in her tired eyes that she is thriving on his trauma.

“No traumatizing Alec with baby launching parts.” Alec paraphrases and he still feels a little lightheaded. “When Magnus asked me if I was willing to take vows that might set me against the clave, we spent months on it. Going over everything. Every pro and con. And Magnus promised me that while I might have to commit treason, I would never, ever have to deal with stuff like that.” Alec nods decisively, “I’m telling Magnus you kept his promise for him. And that you deserve a day away at the spa. Just the two of you, I’ll watch Madzie if you want.”

And Cat smiles at him, real and warm.

“You know, I didn’t think it would work. Magnus telling people you’d protect them in his stead if they could reach you.” Cat admits and Alec nods, just quietly pleased that she’s recently given permission for him to use her nickname. “But it seems that he’s getting wiser in his old years. Maybe it’s your youth that brings it out in him.”

“I’m going to tell Magnus you implied he is a cradle robber, again.” Alec says, but he’s fighting his own growing smile and Cat is grinning at him.

She reaches out slowly and Alec pretends to duck, butting into her hand like it’s an accident and she gets in a quick ruffle.

“I’d like that.” Cat admits, “if you remind him to bring the good stuff. Even magical spas have weak drinks.” She pauses and looks at him considerably and then adds, “Madzie would love to go to the aquarium again. She threw a fit—“ and when Alec raises a pointed brow Cat laughs and adds, “a very quiet fit, but still a fit. Apparently riding my shoulders isn’t the same as riding yours. She wants you to lift her so she can be up near the sharks and fish.”

And Alec nods, a soft smile on his own face even if his shirt is growing tacky and cold from the… disgusting evidence of new life.

It’s a slow thing, their friendship.

They’re always polite for Magnus’ sake but they both love him too much for it to be enough.

And they all love Madzie and she loves all of them, so they need a genial if not warm relationship.

But Alec is terrible at these things so he gratefully lets Cat lead the path of their friendship and he simply follows.

It’s a big deal for a downworlder. Letting a shadowhunter touch them or touching one. It’s a big deal, Cat letting Alec watch her daughter without Magnus.

Shadowhunters are born to be weapons.

Alec’s body, right down to his bone and blood, is designed and trained and tempered into pure danger.

And the clave doesn’t suffer their warriors to be sympathetic, or empathetic.

Alec’s bare hand is just as dangerous as any blade and unlike shadowhunters, who get to live and die and inflict more pain and trauma in a vicious cycle without consequences.

Warlocks have to live and remember and adapt to never getting justice and always watching the shadows for another glowing blade.

And Alec will never forget the pain in Magnus’ eyes when he explained why some nights, he has to ask Alec to wear a long sleeve turtleneck or a glamour over his runes.

The bad nights, where Magnus is troubled by memories and worried he’ll wake and see runes and think ‘enemy’ instead of ‘mine’.

And Alec stays still and pliable those nights. Covered up with fabric or magic and lets Magnus direct how much they touch and how far they go.

Magnus always marvels at his willingness to adapt to his needs.

And it only makes Alec want to do better, to be better and help heal every single hurt that life has carved into Magnus.

But he keeps his hands where Magnus tells him and he kisses as softly and adoringly as he can when he’s kissed and in the mornings, it’s a little better.

Alec stays still if he wakes first, letting Magnus set the pace for their day and canceling plans if needed.

And he waits to see if Magnus will go to the shower first or sit and slowly strip Alec.

They both always know Alec’s awake at that point, but Alec keeps his eyes closed and his breath even.

And Magnus slowly uses his magic or hands or both to bare Alec’s runes.

And Alec aches to hold Magnus, to thank him for loving Alec inspite of how painful it sometimes is, but Magnus doesn’t want to hear that.

It won’t help.

So Alec bites his lip and lets fingers trace over his runes as Magnus makes sure every rune is in its proper place.

Because even though they sometimes bring up old unhealed hurts, Alec knows that Magnus loves every part of him. Has proven it with mouth and words and kisses as he’s decorated and claimed each angelic mark.

So Alec doesn’t press, doesn’t promise.

He just nods, because this is supposed to be something nice, not stressful.

“I have several days where I'm allowed to be disconnected from the Institute.” Alec shrugs as he talks, “even my phone goes off and Magnus typically hits me with a spell that redirects fire messages. It’s rare but we worked out protocols for it after they almost ruined our anniversary. I can use one, for this.”

It’s a promise that Alec will ensure Madzie never has to see or meet or look at any shadowhunter Cat hasn’t personally vetted.

“You’re very accommodating about this.” Cat says instead of answering and Alec sighs and grimaces when he goes to rub his face and remembers what’s tackily drying on his hands.

“Not really. I mean, the institute isn’t what I would consider a vetted and safe place for her yet.” Alec sighs and closes his eyes, ignoring the hiss of magic and giving Cat a grateful smile as he feels the grime disappear.

He doesn’t like asking for favors and it would be awkward to make an official request for something so small to a newly budding friendship but the cleanliness is a relief.

“It could be years before I have enough respect and control and loyalty over every shadowhunter. It might never be completely safe. And I know you got her right after the event, you know what she was like. What she went through. What she was forced to do there. I don’t want her going there ever again unless we know that the worst she’ll get is a papercut because she tried to color my archives.” Because Alec still remembers how desperate Madzie was to save him, even being threatened and blackmailed and all because they’d shared a quiet smile.

“She’s been asking to visit you there.” Cat admits, “her therapist thinks she might need to walk through it. To process and get past that trauma. She’s not ready to talk about Rouse yet.”

And Alec sighs and he pinches his nose and is relieved when the pressure of his head ebbs a little.

“Okay.” He mutters, “okay I can work with this.”

Cat is giving him a weary but amused look, like she’s exhausted by reality but enjoying his attempts at fixing it.

“Okay. I need to have Magnus come check out the core. We never did a followup after the leylines. And it really is volatile, the clave has reports about it dating back months. I can order an official, clave sanctioned lockdown. It means only myself and my personal team are allowed out of our rooms. Everyone else is sealed into their own rooms with location monitors so sabotage can’t happen.”

Alec ignores the incredulous look he’s getting.

“A lot of shit happened because we didn’t have the right protocols and everyone ignored what we did have.” Alec admits roughly, “so I’ve changed a lot of things. The clave is tentatively letting me, since no one wants to outright argue after the last time they tried to sanction me.”

Magnus had been furious at the attempt and was Alec’s self-appointed advocate. Jia and Imogen both still wince when Alec mentions the love of his life.

“So, after your spa day. Because you’re definitely going to need one after whatever happens and she’ll need a good one before. We can do it. Issue a lockdown. Give Madzie enough time to process a walkthrough and then you’ll get her out of there so Magnus and I can actually do what we need.”

“And your team? Are they loyal? Do you trust them with her?”

And Alec looks at Cat and he grins, dark and feral and furious that he has to protect the child he loves from his own people.

“They know that if they so much as allow Madzie to be hurt in their presence, I’ll take the tripled equivalent of it out of their flesh.” And Alec grins even wider, his lips curling around his maw, “Mirai is my second-in-command and would sacrifice every member of our team and herself to preserve my life and authority. And they all know that I would sacrifice all of them for Magnus, for Madzie.” And he looks at Cat, whose loss would crush Magnus, “and for you.

“My team doesn’t love me, they respect me. They honor me. If they die they want it to be for my cause and in my stead. And it’s what I need, because love can be very fickle. You’ve never met any of them—“ because Alec knows that Cat is trying to ask if his siblings and Clary are a part of his personal team.

They are not.

“But they know the very basics of your identity and Madzie’s and why you’re so important to me. I’ll send you their files later. The unredacted ones.”

The ones even the clave doesn’t have.

“I’ll review it. But if I ask for it, will you be able to keep them away without tipping off anyone else?”

Alec nods, “they can stay in our war room if needed. It’s a new addition, Madzie won’t need to see it. Magnus can seal some of my energy to my tablet so you can use it and watch where each shadowhunter is. Will you need to bring her therapist with her? Magnus will have to trip the wards so their presence isn’t detected.”

The only other person who knows who Madzie’s therapist is, is actually Magnus.

Even Cat doesn’t know for sure.

Alec knows she vetted a group of shadowworld trauma specialists and then gave the only copy of the list to Magnus after they sealed a complicated geas that made her forget the contents.

There’s too much a risk of someone wanting the information Madzie has from Rouse and from Valentine.

So they keep it secret.

So that Madzie is safe.

“This is going to be so incredibly illegal.” Cat mutters but she looks relieved and a little less stressed despite how many clave rules they’ll be… bending.

“Even the portals from Idris go offline.” Alec tries to offer reassurance, “the risk of angelic power backlash is too much of a risk. If anyone catches on to your presence, we say we needed a healer on hand and you couldn’t get a babysitter. No one’s going to be stupid enough to press and not a single person is going to assume it’s happening because of Madzie or her therapy.”

And they wouldn’t because Cat had made her opinion clear on the subject of Madzie being any of the claves business.

Mainly that she was not in fact, their business.

And Magnus and Alec had backed her up.

“Okay. Let me talk to Magnus, and I think if we’re doing this, I'm going to change my mind. I don’t want to, but I think I will need to see all of your memories of her before she came to me.”

And Alec has to suck in a deep breath. Because he offered months ago and the option has been in limbo, Cat worried and unsure if it would help or make things worse.

The door to the maternity ward opens and Alec blinks, astonished that the baby is already born to interrupt their discussion.

Mother and child look thankfully clean, but Alec is still understandably wary as they’re wheeled over to him.

“Do you want to hold her?” The woman asks, eyes glowing as she smiles adoringly over her babe, “maybe Magnus Bane’s magic on you will bless her.”

“Is she—“ and Alec grimaces, “safe?”

And the new mother bares her teeth in offended disdain but Cat just snorts, “yes Alec, the baby is clean. You won’t have to touch ah, what was it you called it earlier, oh yes. ‘Baby launcher fluids?’ You won’t have to touch those again anytime soon.”

And Alec flushes because Cat is paraphrasing and then he’s being laughed at by two women and one of them got very intimate with him medically and the other emotionally.

He scoops up the baby, relieved that she’s clean and warm and healthy and he pets the soft downy hair.

“You’re going to grow up to be very strong.” He soothes as he rocks back and forth on his heels, “and maybe you’ll grow up to have a chocolate allergy but that’s okay. Unlike what Magnus insists, chocolate is not the superior flavor. And even if it was, you’re going to be able to taste sunshine on your tongue and see in the dark and—“ he watches the baby yawn and marvels as a little fist sleepily clutches his finger. “And Magnus is going to keep your home safe—“ he finishes, feeling a little lame because his brain is short circuiting at the strength in the little fist.

“Are all babies this strong or is it just werewolf and nephilim ones?” Alec asks before he can think better of it, he doesn’t see the amused looks pointed his way. He tries to wiggle his finger free but the baby’s face bunches up and Alec freezes.

“Cat—“ he whispers, “do magic. Quick. I can’t tell how much strength to use. What if I break her?.”

And Cat stares at him for a solid minute before she turns, leans against the wall and starts cackling.

Alec counts in his head, trying to keep his breathing as even and slow and possible. Babies are sensitive and if werewolf newborns are anything like nephilim ones, then they come with a set of instincts to protect them.

“Please take your baby back so I don’t wake her up or break her.” He whispers desperately and he gets instead a belly deep laugh and he pettily hopes she wakes up her own baby with all her damn howling.

He stands there, still as he can until Cat finally takes pity and rescues him.

However he’s still holding a grudge and he mutters to her, “you better remember to tell Magnus about what to bring yourself. I am going to conveniently forget.”

It doesn’t make him feel any better when Cat insists on opening a portal and then she shoves him through to the loft’s front door.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks sleepily when Alec finally gets into their room and Alec sighs, trudging over for a kiss before he remembers that magic aside, he’s not actually showered.

“I need sterilization.” He says and misses Magnus’ outstretched hand and startled gaze. Alec is too busy complaining to Cat via text that he can’t take a decontamination shower at Magnus’ and now he has to worry about infecting the loft.

She sends back twenty crying laughing emojis and a kissing heart and a middle finger emoji and Alec gives up.

“You're taking Cat out for a spa day.” He yells as he strips his clothes, still grumpy but sincere in his promises. “But if she asks you for the good stuff to drink, make her work for it!” Because Alec is learning to be petty right up there with Magnus, who is the best.

And Alec is a devoted student.

Alec is very content with himself as he uses his stele to draw a rune so his clothes begin to burn.

Magnus is standing in the doorway, staring at Alec in what he thinks might be shock when Alec finishes.

Which is fair.

Alec is still pretty shook himself.

“Clean first.” Alec promises, because in staying away he’s also denying himself kisses but he won’t subject Magnus to being equally infected.

And then Alec shuts the shower, draws a locking rune on the glass door for good measure and turns the water as hot as it can go.

Magnus is saying something muffled and Alec ignores the flare of his skin as it’s beaten by scalding angry water and just starts dumping bottles of soap over himself.

He manages to get what he feels is decently clean, and then Magnus is ignoring the locking rune, vanishing the entire shower door as he gets an arm around Alec’s waist and hauls him out of the lava masquerading as lava.

“What then actual fuck, Alexsnder?” His amazingly wonderful and incredibly magical Magnus is saying.

“Why is Cat sending me so many emojis? And what does she mean when she says you have occupational trauma?”

And Alec groans because he will forever be haunted.

“I love you.” He tells Magnus, “so much. But please, babe. I will literally happily go back to Edom or commit treason for you, but I cannot handle that again.”

Alec is too relieved at being clean to notice all the things he normally picks up.

So he doesn’t stop Magnus’ frantic call to Cat or Magnus’ horrified amusement at whatever she tells him.

“My poor, traumatized darling.” Magnus says and he presses his mouth to Alec’s forward.

Alec can feel his lips wobbling and he graciously ignores that it’s humor and not sympathy.

“I am.” Alec grumbles, tucking himself closer to Magnus, “traumatized. It was traumatic.” Alec lets out a little mournful sigh, “I really liked how much you liked me in those pants.”

“They could have been washed.” Magnus reminds him and Alec scoffs.

“They. Were. Contaminated. If I’d realized she was going to send me here, I would have refused. I wanted to decontaminate before I came home.”

“How about I draw us a bath?” Magnus asks and he kisses Alec’s shoulder. “

Alec nods and then sighs, “Magnus?” He asks and Magnus immediately makes a listening noise as he sets up the tub. “Can I have a full night's sleep before you never let me live this down?”

“I would never torment you with such a horrific experience.” Magnus lies, like the liar he enjoys being.

Alec gives a deep sigh and Magnus chuckles and kisses his forehead. “For your heroic actions in the face of such dangers, I will give you a full forty-eight hours and I won’t share Cat’s delightful puns until then.”

“How luxurious.” Alec mumbles and he’s falling back asleep, against Magnus and in the water.

Safe and clean.

#shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #immortal husbands #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #lumine writes #prompt fic #prompt fill #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets #shadowhunter au

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drawnfamiliarfaces · 1 month

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Okay, I'll continue talking! So as we all know, RC9GN frequently involves characters being turned into rampaging monsters through no real fault of their own. And then there's Evil Julian, who was a whole thing. What I'm saying is, the Ninja cast are not strangers to the idea of people being forced into evil the way Chase was... but I don't think Chase goes around telling people about his tragic backstory unless he's trying to make a point. So, like, do any of them know Chase is technically under the influence of a mind-altering substance? That he didn't want to be like this, he just didn't want his best friend to leave him behind? Under what circumstances might the First Ninja find out? Under what circumstances might Randy find out?

Of course, what happened to Chase is definitely not the same thing as what happens to people under the Sorcerer's influence. For one, it's a lot more permanent. It's pretty clear in Xiaolin Showdown that Chase is too far gone and can't be cured at this point, if he ever could have been. The only way to stop him from ending a haughty, self-centered dragon would be to stop him from drinking the soup to begin with. And he's still himself on some level. As you said, he still has honor, he can still care, he's still capable of independent rational thought. It seems less like possession and more like very targeted (evil) brain damage. At the same time, this does mean it's technically possible for Chase to turn his back on what he's become. He may never be who he was again, but he can still change, as Omi believes he can. Though jury's out if he believes he can change. Anyway, there's a lot of drama to be wrung out of this, especially if the First Ninja realizes he probably would have liked the man Chase used to be.

Also, I'm just saying, the First Ninja denying that he chained up his evil husband to stop Chase from hurting people while he searches for a cure to the curse that makes Chase evil would be very funny.

OKAY OW HANG ON LISTEN The idea of First deciding to chain up Chase not just because he is an evil menace, but also in order to find a cure for his transformation, hit me so unexpectedly hard in the feels, like FR DUDE???? OW???

(Even if it is a bit of funny mental image AND the wording 'targeted evil brain damage' made me snort so hard, oh my god im so sorry.)

There is an argument/theory about how technically Chase doesn't need to constantly drink the Soup (based on how in alternative future, captured by Jack, Chase didn't drink it in captivity, and as soon as he was released he was kinda bordering on 'feral' lizard mode - Soup helps him keep in control AND keep ahold of his human form, rather that he is absolutely dependant on it), but he does it because he is, well, basically addicted to it.

SO it would be more of First chaining his Evil Brain Damaged Addict of (totally not a) Husband in order for to find a most likely nonexisting cure to his cursed (????) transformation. The ANGST POTENTIAL of it.

And your first points are so interesting and absolutely valid! Chase's situation can be compared to Stank-ification, but you know what would make an even more interesting comparison? The Sorcerer himself.

I think we often forget that technically, Sorcerer situation is him being separated from his humanity and twisted into an immortal monster by Chaos Pearls, because he - as the Peddler - made one decision, one mistake, after being seduced by power greater than him. Sounds familiar doesn't it?

Of course there are a few key differences here:

Sorcerer is literally separated with his human self (soul perhaps??) that is trapped in Land of Shadows, while Chase's humanity seems to have been surpressed and/or muted by his Draconic Self. (or perhaps stolen with his soul by Hannibal, which is a popular theory about how exactly Roy Bean/Soup turned Chase.)

Chase's change is permanent. While Sorcerer situation is possible to fix - it literally happens in the finale.

BUT!!! no one actually knew it was possible to fix before. At least no one gave any indication that it was a known fact about Sorcerer's humanity still existing somewhere in Chaos Realm/Land of Shadows.

I'm pretty sure First/Norisu Clan believed that the Sorcerer was a human changed and twisted into an immortal by chaos. Impossible to kill and impossible to return to normal - that's why he was imprisoned. To keep him contained.

I mean, couldn't First Ninja, after capturing The Sorcerer, try to get his human self from the Land of Shadows himself, if he knew? After all he had access to a Chaos Ball! But he didn't know there was anything to be recovered, that the Sorcerer could be actually unmade just by reuniting him with his human half.

(At least thats my personal HC, but im pretty sure the canon show just retconned/fumbled a bit the whole Sorcerer resolution lol.)

SO just imagine. First learns about Chase's past. And he is freaking aghast. Here is another twisted by evil, but while he and his brothers failed to save those changed that they first encountered (the 'killed first stanked monsters' theory tie in!), they managed to save those that came after. And if First could, he would have tried to save The Sorcerer, no matter how much he hates him. But... Chase is different. There is still something of humanity left in him. Perhaps he can save Chase.

And from Chase's pov? He sees how Ninja saved Stanked people, and he doesn't even consider those situations as similar to his. Sure, people are turned into monsters, but he was turned into a monster by his own choice, there is nothing to save him from. (Isn't there?)

But he watches as First releases those people from the clutches of chaos, watches as he tries so hard to save them... And maybe it makes him yearn, that someone tried just a little bit harder to save the 'him' before he made that choice.

And if First cages Chase and says: "I want to help you. To Cure you." It will certainly enrage Chase - because who does this man think he is, tryin to contain and cure THE Heylin Prince of Darkness, like he is some halpless trapped commoner??? He came to be long before this man's Clan existed and he will be there long after this man will become dust.

But also... maybe deep deep deep inside, Chase is... confused? and pleased? - that someone like Fist Ninja grew to care enough for him to try and save him, even if there is nothing to be saved.

So they would be at this standstill, where First is trying to help a cause that isnt quite possible to fix, and Chase is... well, being Chase.

But, yeah, certainly another amazing thought process from you Anon <3, I've been trying to answer this ask for so long, because every time i start to write i get overcome with emotions about those scenarios like...damn. It's funny, but also the possible drama of all of this... hnnnfgggg

#que?#ninja showdown #chase young #first ninja #my immortal soul #this is one of the asks that pushed me to try and write for NS/MIS because DAMN i want some of those ideas in actual fanfiction...#making notes for my Hidden Chapter AU... maybe i will write an one-shot xD

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