#until it can rebuild his power - which can take thousands of years to get to a point where home can reconnect with the mortal plane

[tanoraqui]

now that this fic is all published, I can ramble about the things that happen afterward in the timeline! Feel SO free to ask about anything you want more details of.

First off, all three posts about Dave the Balrog are 100% canon to this au, except for where they sometimes contradict the fic's worldbuilding or plot bc I hadn't settled on every detail yet. Also, Dave’s name is probably more like “Drav”, from the Sindarin “drava-”, “to hew.”

That happens much later, though - about 1980 TA. FIRST, immediately, as Celebrimbor says: it's time to save the orcs!

That is, wildly self-indulgent crossover with @ceescedasticity's fic(verse) elves, once, which isn't 100% my headcanon for orcs but it's essentially canon for this au because it makes everything VERY FUNNY in a tragic irony way. I've thought about this so much that it really deserves its own bullet-point post, but highlights include:

- Annatar attempts to conceal the fact that Curufin and Celegorm are orcs, and, y'know, have been since they died. This works until Celebrimbor identifies a bunch of the orc army's weapons as made by his father, even if the style is strange and fell, and the two of the have a HUGE fight in front of representatives of every Elvish kingdom in Middle Earth and most of an army of orcs.

- Bellow/Turgon is having the single strangest, most uncomfortable road trip of his life, and he counts the crossing of the Helcaraxë in that total.

- Turgon tries to convince Galadriel to take Celebrían and Elrond and get out of here, because inevitably this must be a cruel trick and all the orcs will be forced to turn on all the Elves. Galadriel is like, "Honestly, I've been watching Celebrimbor's slow corruption and Sauron's slower un-corruption for about 2,000 years now, and I think we actually have a shot at this. Also, bold of you to assume you can beat me in a fight."

- Curufin and Celegorm had BOOKED IT when Annatar's summoning-compulsion snapped, on the reasonable assumption that any plan the Dark Lord had for them + Celebrimbor could only be cruel to the extreme...so Celebrimbor and Annatar go on a bonus road trip to retrieve them.

- Everyone meets up by the Sea again, but instead of taking (or, obeying) the offer of escape into Ulmo's hands, Turgon and probably a bunch of other orcs volunteer to come help break the Crucible. They Deserve This.

- In the end, as usual, the day is ultimately saved - as are the souls of thousands of trapped elves - by the power of love and overwhelming violence.

AND THEN...

Celebrimbor & Annatar don't actually rebuild Ost-in-Edhil and Eregion as they were. Those days are over, and also the surviving Númenoreans kinda...regard Annatar as Absolute Evil, for some mysterious reason. And those who knew about the whole or even partial conspiracy - namely Tar-Miriel herself - aren't too keen on Celebrimbor, either.

They leave whoever wants to stay and rebuild in Eregion, leadership tbd based on the traditional system of craft-based meritocracy, and take a few decades off to lay low from geopolitics, work on their marriage, and for Celebrimbor to learn a little bit of necromancy so he can manipulate his own fëa and hröa, thank you very much.

They stay with the Witch-Queen of Calador for a while, discreetly because officially that kingdom is also not on good terms with its “former” evil-ish overlord. (The Witch-Queen of Calador and her not really sane, almost certainly unsafe, but arguably consensual relationship with Annatar really deserves her own post, too. She’s my favorite OC of this au. She really loves bats.)

Elrond & Celebrían get married! Elrond always knew his wedding would have to involve stopping drunken brawls from erupting between people who love him but hate each other, but he’d assumed it’d be Iathrim and Fëanorians, not an elderly Queen Miriel going for Annatar’s eyes with a butter knife.

Annatar regards the birth of Elrohir and Elladan with some concern, this alarming lineage now augmented by the blood of Arafinwë (cut off Melkor’s foot) and Galadriel (Melian’s pupil, hates him). But that’s nothing to how freaked out he is by Arwen, who is such an obvious Reprise of Lúthien that it’s now CLEAR that this was all a Melian scheme to assault him, personally.

He can’t just kill her now—Elrond and Galadriel and both right here, not to mention Celebrimbor. And then she’d absolutely be his enemy when she Returned… No, the only solution is to stay in Imladris for a while and become her most beloved uncle whom she would not dream of assaulting, whom she could not bring herself to injure even if circumstance and conscience forced her hand. Love has ever been the undoing of Melian’s line. The Reprise is obvious, but not so established that he cannot twist it into irony, Lúthien’s heir as his devoted student and companion rather than foe.

[smash cut to late 3rd Age Annatar watching the Music settle into place as Arwen interacts with the newest, currently toddling scion of the House of Elendil and nearly killing the child right then because no, no, thats not how this was supposed to Reprise—that’s his jewel of an elf-queen, Singer and trade-manipulator and niece, and he’s going to lose her forever? Killing the brat won’t even work, that would only make her follow him sooner, one way or another���]

Celebrimbor doesn’t want to build a city (and have his heart broken by the loss of the city) again, but he very much does want to ImproveThe World, and also to Make Things With His Hands. So he and Annatar, and whoever of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain wish to join them, set about… “Traveling” is too loose a term; just because they’re not city-building doesn’t mean anyone here wants to live on the road. They need workshops, forges, and ideally a maia-sized cat tree tall tower from which to survey their domain. They are a highly skilled work crew/technical, artistic & management consultants who change cities every 5-200 years, throughout Middle Earth and perhaps even other continents.

This what Celebrimbor and Annatar do, for most of the rest of their time in Middle Earth. A few of the Mírdain travel with them all the time. Others strike out on their own, or in similar small groups. Others stay in rebuilt Ost-in-Edhil, or Rivendell or the Havens or another Elvish kingdom, and come lend a hand when their particular talents are called for. Everyone who “died” in Númenor and was “resuscitated” by Annatar walked away with a strengthened, basically permanent osanwë connection to the simulated workshop group chat, which they’re aware of, and a location tracker and fëa-stamp saying “PROPERTY OF MAIRON, FUCK AROUND AND YOU WILL FIND OUT” which only an Ainu could detect.

They're the mysterious stranger(s) who accept an offer of hospitality on a stormy night and reward you with a magic ring that blesses your farm with fecundity. They arrive in a city in the middle of a cholera outbreak and inform the local rulers that they're here to overhaul the whole wells & sewers system in exchange for room and board; no, the local rulers do not get a choice in this. One time they do oust an evil ruling dynasty and just kinda take over the kingdom for a few centuries, but then Celebrimbor starts to get paranoid of his own growing attachment so Annatar reluctantly agrees to find and raise some honorable candidate for kingship [gender-neutral]. One of the Mírdain with them says, what about the choice of the people? And then after a lot of discussion, partly in collaboration with their local Men, they write up and seal with Power a Constitution that establishes an oversight body of political, economic, craft and etc. experts to oversee and have veto power over popular elections to kingship from a slate of candidates chosen by the current/soon-to-be previous king, on a strict thirty-year schedule. There, that should stabilize the whole messy business of mortal succession!

Also, 1300 years or so into the Third Age when this version of Gondor hits its equivalent of the Kin-Strife, Annatar takes advantage of its weakness to initiate a plan he's been contemplating for a while, especially while gaining local insight into a variety of nation-states and their management, and returns to Oroduin to forge what may he his last Great Work...a new standard of currency.

It’s called, in the common tongue developing from Adúnaic and Sindarin, the “mira”, pl. “miran”, from Quenya “mírë” (“jewel, precious thing). Where pettier currencies are based in gold or silver or the might of some particular empire, these hold value Because a Great Maia Said So—indeed, Sang So, Sang a new line into the Great Music that these coins would always have a value of…whatever he said so, if he updated a petty lyric or two of their Song. Those who use the coins don’t need to know this; they simply intuit, with coins in hand, what they are worth.

(You can lead even the mightiest empire by the nose if you control the price of grain alone, much less other commodities, or one currency relative to another. Each minute adjustment takes Power, especially to shift the natural balance of multiple interlocking goods…but Annatar is a master of the perfectly placed lever with which to shift the world.)

Maybe at some point the Valar are like, “okay, I think they don’t irrationally hate us anymore, I think this could work” and send a small group of Maiar to openly, humbly approach Annatar and Celebrimbor and ask if they might be apprentices in the craft of…whatever the fuck is happening here. Or maybe something adjacent, because Pallandro and Alatar would really like to fuck off into those excellent looking woods and hunt the remnants of Ungoliant’s spawn, and Radagast actually wandered away 5 minutes ago to talk to a bird. He’s gonna be a while. But Curumo and Olórin are listening politely!

…Or maybe not. Maybe it’s just the Jewelsmiths, slowly becoming folklore, bettering the world (and manipulating wide-scale economics) one stone at a time. (They’d still be the “Jewelsmiths” anyway, even if they included those who, in another universe, were called “The Wise.”)

As stated in the third Dave the Balrog post, they do Sail eventually, several centuries after Arwen’s death. Celebrimbor just gets tired, and Annatar can’t fix it. Ossë spends the whole voyage backstroking next to their ship and sarcastically quoting Annatar back at himself, Years of the Trees insults about being made weak and pathetic by love, until Annatar nearly lunges over the side as a wolf to tear his throat out.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I've been wondering about something about Wally's "Warlock staff"....

What the heck is that? A crystal of some kind?? (I've been wondering for so long with the project I'm working on)

that would be a crystal - and a conduit for Home's power! Wally uses it to channel and utilize the magic Home gives him. technically he can cast without it, but casting without a "lightning rod" makes the magic undiluted when used - which is rarely a good thing when your power comes from a demon!

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - Jan 7th - Week 1

It’s the first SteveTony Weekly of the year!! This year, I’m gonna try to personalize the recs, and pick a favorite of the week. We’ll see how long I keep that up. As always, be sure to leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed the fic! 

~*~ 

peace bought with blood and magic by Areiton

There is a legend, older than the Citadel, about the field.

About the king who had ruled for as long as the Thousand Year War had raged. There is a legend about the king and about the one he loved, and it goes--

Note: i had so much fun with this fic, and it left me wanting to write a long version of this as an original project. 

[PODFIC] Maybe this Time by MsErmestH by Pywren

Tony’s better now. You can even say he’s superior. But all the money, alcohol, and sex can’t stop the incursions, and when his world is destroyed, he ends up on an earth ten years younger than his own.

One where Steve goes by the name of Nomad.

If there’s one thing Steve’s good at, it’s reminding him of what really matters, and maybe that makes Nomad the person Tony needs if he's going to save the universe.

Note: the way that Tony slowly begins to feel again and the way he loves Steve is everything to me. I love it. 

Love among the Hydrothermal Vents by DevilDoll

In which Namor has a thing for Steve, an octopus has a thing for Tony, and Steve and Tony eventually have a thing for each other.

Note: I’ve read this before and it’s just as amazing as the first time. Fake dating, pining, Namor in all his…Namor-ness. And the amorous octopus!!! What’s not to love. 

may the angels bow down for you by Anonymous 

He hides.

When the Demon gets loud, when He drinks His poison and tries to hurt him with His palm, or His words, or His power—he hides.

Burgundy. Oak. Shattered glass.

Note: Interesting format for this story. Interspersed with the descriptors, it gave the story a disjointed and urgent air that really worked. 

Working Late by Anonymous 

Some nights, Tony stays up late, building and rebuilding and upgrading his suits, until Steve walks into the workshop, usually already in his pajamas, and wraps his arms around Tony, kissing him until he forgets what he was doing and then dragging him to bed.

A fill for the prompt "Steve sits in Tony's lap and rides him" from last year's Community Gifts prompt list. Because there's really not enough bottom!Steve in the world.

Note: Some very lovely smut. 

The first time I met you (I already had a drawing of you) by Anonymous 

Kissing Tony was a bit like sparing, pushing and pulling and stumbling against furniture. He had no idea why a billionaire cared enough to be this strong, and it was hard to keep in mind he had to pull back his own strength.

or

Tony meets a cute artist in at a Gala event, Steve tries to get over Iron Man, and Bucky just enjoys watching his best friend be a little stupid sometimes.

Note: I love identity porn. It’s one of my favorite things in the fandom. This was a tiny slice of perfection. 

Softer Landing by Anonymous

In which there is a snowstorm, Tony has had a terrible week and Steve might be an idiot.

Note: Miscommunication and reconciliation and snowstorms. Lovely. 

****Exact Measurements Required by trilliath 

That time S.H.I.E.L.D. quartermasters accidentally put Steve's balls in a vise and it goes exactly as well as you'd expect it to. Tony promptly offers to help. Because he's helpful like that. Obviously.

Note: What I especially loved about this was Steve’s humanity and the way Tony was obsessed with him and it took him FOREVER to figure out how serious Tony actually was. 

Father and Son by Anonymous

Peter should have seen it coming.

All hell breaks loose when his secret identity as Spider-Man is revealed. His parents take the news about as well as you'd imagine, and it escalates all too quickly.

But his family wouldn't be his family if they didn't work through it.

Together.

Note: I love Superfamily dynamics, especially when it focuses on Tony and Peter, as this one does. 

opera interlude by starvels (dinosaur) 

They spend their days tumbling through space, hoping they're aiming in the right direction, ignoring the way the ship whispers, waving its shadows at them.

Note: My only thought about this is that it was too short. I loved it and wanted to read so much more. It was lovely. 

The Nearness of You by UisceOneLove 

Steve wasn't thinking when he protected Tony's protege and got a bullet for the move. He doesn't know what to think of Tony Stark showing up at his apartment, either.

Note: I loved this. It was short and sweet but the worldbuilding packed into that short little window was flawless. 

****All We Do by Anonymous 

Tony doesn't mean for anyone to find those recordings. Steve doesn't mean to see them. Between the two of them, there were never the right words spoken, so this just might be a blessing in disguise.

Note: This Endgame fic is so bittersweet and lovely. I loved everything about it. 

Crooner by wirewrappedlily 

There are songs to sing; there are feelings to feel; there are thoughts to think. That makes three things: You can't do three things at the same time.

Singing is easy: shiver off the tongue.

Thinking comes with the tune.

That leaves feeling. And you're not going to catch him feeling.

Tony Stark had a great voice. He had a magical voice, even. But he didn't have the presence for it. Didn't have the pizzazz to make it in the '20s roar.

Note: Early 1900s, with a little bit of Phantom of the Opera vibes, it was super sweet to see Tony & Steve coming together. 

like stepping on the sun by Red (S_Hylor), starksnack

When the Sorcerer Supreme asks the Avengers to go investigate a potential multiverse incursion, Tony is less than impressed. The weather is foul, and it's not even a Tuesday.

The multiverse portal, when it does occur, seems to be a bit of a fizzer, so Tony isn't expecting anything to happen.

He certainly isn't expecting an oversized fuzzy jellybean to come and meddle in his personal life.

Note: tsumtsums are often really hard to take seriously but I LOVE crack treated seriously, and it was handled perfectly! 

don't let the blue sky fade by Myrime 

It was supposed to be a mission without surprises, but then a building collapses on top of them and traps them underground.

Tony is hurt but doesn't tell anyone. Steve just wants Tony to give a damn for once. And Clint, who cannot run away from their bickering since he broke his leg, just hopes they do not kill each other before they get him out of there.

(- Since the End is almost upon us, why not return to the beginning of the Avengers, when everything was still mostly beautiful and they haven't yet hurt each other so much. Simpler times!)

Note: This was fantastic team dynamics--the relationship between Tony and Clint was especially fantastic--with a slow build Stevetony that I adored. Excellent 2012 team fic. Highly recommend. 

[au-sonic-smackdown]

AU Sonic Smackdown - Round 1, Right Side

Click to see full size image

Dark Gaia Sonic AU belongs to @cattyanon

Starhog AU belongs to @perry-88

Read more about them under the cut!

Dark Gaia Sonic AU-

Personality: Mostly the same as normal Sonic but there's some quirks due to the reason for his unsightly transformation. He's more… grim. Not nearly as peppy. Dark humor actually gets a laugh out of him now too.

Backstory: During the time where Dark Gaia takes back it's energy to form itself, including from Sonic, Sonic fights to keep it- He doesn't want Dark Gaia to get any stronger and he'd just come to accept his new werehog form! But something very unexpected happens during this game of tug o war. While trying to take back the energy that Dark Gaia was attempting to steal, Sonic accidentally ends up taking back more energy than he started with. Too much energy. Almost all of it, in fact.

Assuming Dark Gaia had been defeated some how, Chip goes back into the earth with what little of Dark Gaia's original form is left and uses his powers to send Sonic back to where they first met.

Unfortunately it doesn't take long for the consequences of Sonic's (albeit unintentional) actions to unfold in the form of a grueling transformation…

Abilities: Same as the werehog and Dark Gaia.

Etc: There's a constant war in his mind for control of the body, with Sonic just always barely ahead. Because of this he talks in chunks. "Which basically… means he talks… like this…" He's also prone to spacing out because of this too- although this mostly happens during the night since that's when Dark Gaia is at it's strongest. And although this is probably obvious when you think about it, but just as confirmation he is in fact immortal. He also loathes being the way he is now. At least as the werehog he could still run and go places more or less normally. But now? Now he's 147 meters tall… And there's a LOT more downsides to that fact. Namely things he can't really do now. One of the other most devastating beings that, due to them being so small now, he can't taste chilli dogs. Somebody would have to make a REALLY big chili dog for him to taste anything. Or maybe a lot? Either way it'd be a giant (no pun intended, but welcomed) effort to go through.

Starhog AU-

He's basically the Shadow of this AU, instead of shadow and Maria, it's sonic and Elise, he's the youngest of 3 "ultimate lifeforms". (different animals) After Elise sudden death, sonic went dark for the first time, radiating a Chaos blast killing almost everyone in the area. (His 2 siblings were in escape pods.) He became very weak after the blast, he doesn't remember anything between him fatigued of the chaos energy, and crash landing to south Island.

Since he's a part of ristar's species (think of it like, if the black arms were living with the humans for thousands of years) he can stretch his arms but they do have a limit. His paws are like a geckos and he can stick to things.

Tangle is his friend in this AU. He is very protective of her. He'll protect her if she's in danger.

Ivo didn't really know Sonics dangerousness until a fight with metal came and he absolutely demolished him. Ivo had to rebuild metal for 1&1/2 weeks.

Shooting stars (ristar species) were kinda wary of Sonics existence, most are now glad that tangle is with him.

Sonic is (technically) 30 in contrast to shadow being (technically) 50.

[the-firebird69]

So these AirHeads right around yesterday saying that they have the fleet that missed that is missing and they're yelling it and my husband says why do you have to yell it if you have it and I wouldn't obey you only if you had power and why don't you have power if you have it it started to explain all this stuff that didn't make sense is it like you can't reveal it until you've built the lasers and other defenses why would you know my brother took it my brother took it and you didn't get the although you demand you took it and you demand and insist which works for me and he starts blabbing this stuff to everybody and they start blabbing it at the max can't figure out what the fudge happened or what they're saying so they're pulling them in one by one they're capitulating then they're not they said we took them in like in the video and they're screaming it and the max said we have to search all your stuff and get rid of you and they start doing it in a big way yesterday and it's getting bigger and bigger regular people can't stand them and they have to know too and these are things that they are going to kill for shouting and it is a lot they're saying it's up to 0.039% an hour and it is starting to climb

Hera

Olympus

So we're saying is a nightmare and it says I'm a giant on the nightmare Giants or nightmares get over it then wetter bed wetter Jesus Christ you people a little babies and he says that last part and I say this is absolutely right he says he returns the thread we end up dead mince meat everyday and we don't know what we're doing in the first place and he doesn't care we're running around saying stupid s*** bothering him harassing him for his pennies and we die even if we're not even getting any and yeah we're useless

Woody harrelson

We're going to prove some of the projects and we're going to make it work and we do know which ones and some of them are not bad a few of them are crazy some I wouldn't even eat at lunch and talk about but he's got ideas at work and construction is one of them they want to build tons of stuff and we wanted to go ahead takes forever and people are complaining it's a nightmare we have to get moving on it they have jobs and will be quiet if that's true

Gene

It's part of it part of his name and part of the problem the other thing is that people are running around saying fuel costs too much energy is terrible and we have tech and we can figure it out we're not even working on that it won't spending time bothering people to be pissy to come after us that has to stop you see big bunkers getting broken that much better so let's get together in a meeting and do something different insane Pontiac is ready to go Harley-Davidson can start they're making a lot of the 350X and the 500x we know about that and it's true and people need transportation need bike suck e bikes suck I say we got to start doing something and we need a lot of that stuff the nightmare you need new cars 4 or 5 years is too old we have a list of stuff let's try it all sorts of things and you can't do anything and these retards are sticks in the mud cuz they think they have stuff should open huge mental hospitals it says no I don't think so but ton to do stuff this is misery

Robert Duvall

They are approving certain plans for projects and we are going to have to move fast we want to get this done and get more going it's terrible there's so much work so we need to hire and we need to get going we have contracts for five things you will probably or possibly release tomorrow they're huge projects in cities to revitalize and take like four or five boroughs down and rebuild them they're all crap and we're in the process of planting no other planned and we just need to go ahead and we expect it tomorrow this kind of project is going to be prevalent and they'll be hundreds and then maybe a few thousand and tons of other jobs coming up real soon so we want ours to get ready talk about it now you don't talk about it

Thor Freya

[megamindsupremacy]

ROUND TWO

A villain state of mind by mikkeneko

Written for the Norsekink prompt: "SHIELD has Loki in custody, with the gag on to keep him from spellcasting, but they don't really know what to DO with him. They can't give him food or water or attempt to interrogate him with the gag on, and they don't dare take it off. Their solution? Call in a telepath! But Charles Xavier may find more things in Loki's head than SHIELD bargained for…"

-

A different word for bad luck by iguessyouregonnamissthepantyraid

Once again, death fails to stick to the God of Mischief.

As for Claire Temple, apparently even half an apocalypse isn't enough to prevent her from stumbling over another super-powered person that's been beaten half to hell and needs her help. This is starting to become a thing for her, isn't it?

Still. At least last time it wasn't a damn terrorist.

-

By land, by sea by dirigible

“I suppose that’s one good thing, at least.”

The child’s hums mid-drink. “Hm?”

“The branched timelines,” Loki clarifies. “There’s certainly one out there where he never gets pruned at all. Maybe he gets off the planet he isolated himself on, and he makes it back to… wherever his brother is.”

The child scoffs. “Yeah, it’ll only take a couple thousand years.”

Loki pauses.

It’s not so much an idea, really, just an inkling. At least until he takes the TemPad out of his pocket, staring down at the little device and tapping his fingers against it as he thinks. He’d only brought it as a means of escape, should he ever gather his strength enough to be willing to head back to the TVA and fix any of this, but…

“Well, maybe not.” (Or, Loki and Kid Loki decide to honor the old man by giving him a better future. It ends up being exactly what they both needed.)

-

Memento Mori by GwendolynStacy

Of the many people capable of carrying the fate of the universe on their shoulders by travelling back in time, Loki would have been the first choice of exactly nobody. With no allies, no plan and nobody on his side, Loki will just have to wing it.

Or: That awkward moment when you've completed your redemption arc, but nobody else got the memo.

-

Burden of Care by PsychoLynx

In a world where Thor is left alone after Love and Thunder, Loki, God of Stories, reaches out. Maybe, he can help more than just his brother find family again.

-

the only soul I've ever saved by valkyreisms

Heimdall uses the last of his strength to send the both the Hulk and Loki's body flying through space, but only Bruce Banner lands on Earth. After the defeat of Thanos, the reverse of the snap, and the beginnings of rebuilding, Thor thinks Loki's body lost among the stars.

Six months later, he lands in Queens.

-

do not stand at my grave and weep by thecrownlessqueen

Thanos is here. It’s time to see how good of a liar Loki can really be.

-- Or in which Loki fakes his death, and the space stone, and the future changes.

Loki-centric fic recs

Fix it by laeveteinn

“You vs. those self-righteous Avengers … how would you like to win? But not just there! You can kill Thanos! You want the Infinity Gauntlet? Yours. Throne of Asgard? No problem.”

When Miss Minutes offers Loki and Sylvie a happier timeline, they accept.

-

Missed me? By rlybro

The final step of bringing down the TVA is by far Loki’s favourite one: catalyse the branching of the multiverse by messing up the Sacred Timeline.

——

Featuring: Confused Avengers, multiple Gods of Mischief, soft reunions, and one ex-bureaucratic agent who’s just going along for the ride.

-

The Collectible by lizardbeth

Loki lets himself fall at the Bifrost, thinking (hoping) death will follow. But death doesn't come - instead, it's much worse, as he's sold to the Collection of Taneleer Tivan. A telepathic hound becomes his companion in suffering, but their luck is about to change.

-

Monstrous purpose by Duce_gemini

"What a prison I will make of you." Caught in the machinations of a powerful being that is entirely too interested in his "destiny", Loki is cast to Earth and stripped of his power, his magic, and even his voice. Adopted by one of the pitiful ants, a street child named Book, Loki struggles to adjust to his new "prison" while trying to uncover exactly who this power is that has banished him and why it is so interested in the fate he glimpsed while falling in the void between worlds. And without his powers, it is only a matter of time before either his not-brother and his self-righteous friends discover him....or the Chitauri do. (Post Avengers/ Pre-TDW)

-

Half a league onward by lise

When it becomes clear that the Hulk can't beat Thanos, Heimdall sends him to Earth. But he doesn't send him alone.

Or, the one where Loki is going to avenge his brother, and/or die trying.

-

Mistakes made (and corrected) by adreamer67

In a different universe, Hela rebelled sooner. In a different universe, Hela Odinsdottir seduced Laufey with promises of power and convinced him to attack Midgard. In a different universe, Hela got pregnant, and didn't want to be. In a different universe, Hela left her newborn son for dead and went to face her father.

In a different universe, Loki Helajarson is two hundred and fifty years older than Thor. Let's see what happens.

(Aka my retelling of Thor I and the Avengers, but Loki is the oldest because I say so)

[bubblegumbeech]

The Losing Move

Day two Ectoberhaunt:  Scream vs Laugh

AO3

It started with a scream. That’s how Clockwork knew it was finally time. 

He hesitated, of course. There was so much to lose, so much still uncertain, paths branching in different directions, moments shrouded imperfectly from his view, strings of fate tangled and misused. But he was the Master of Time. He could hesitate and no one would ever know. 

Not even them. 

Clockwork made a portal, leaving his Clocktower and walking towards a tall grey rock almost as old as time itself, weathered by age and nothing like the statue it had once been standing proud in a garden of overgrown thorns and long dead leaves. Nocturn appeared next to him, a swirl of inky black void scattered with stars and nebulae. 

“Did you hesitate?” he asked. 

It was a valid question. An important one too, if they were to succeed. Clockwork’s hesitation could lead to an uncertain future, to a failure in their plot. And then they would be lost, set back hundreds of thousands of years again. 

“No.”

Nocturn accepted his answer. Perhaps he knew that Clockwork was lying, perhaps he did not. Either way, they both turned to the stone. 

It wasn’t long before the others appeared. 

Misery Vex was the first, then Sojourn, on and on until they all stood, surrounding the stone. 

Misery turned to Clockwork. “Did it take?” she asked, and he flew forward, taking off one of his gloves to run his hand along the smoothed side of the rock. It hummed, an energy unlike any else, unique to here yet everywhere and nowhere at all. Very chaotic indeed. 

“It has.”

She hummed an affirmative, linking her hand in his before reaching out to take Sojourn’s. Clockwork reached for Nocturn and as they all linked together they formed a shield, thick and impenetrable between their varied talents, around the stone. 

“How long will this take,” Vortex said, ever the impatient one. He was jittery, yellow cords of lightning constantly jumping all over him in a nervous jumble, branching in and out of each other like writhing snakes. 

Clockwork sighed. “Not long.”

“You musn’t get too close,” Misery warned.

“I know.”

“You musn’t go too far,” Nocturn reminded him. 

He knew that too. 

“You’ve failed before,” Misery said, her voice steady and calm. She was not wrong, nor accusatory. He had faltered, it had led to a less than ideal outcome. He would not admit this. 

Clockwork didn’t allow any emotion on his face. “The threat is contained. My faults did not lead to the failure of our mission.”

She scoffed. “No, only to ‘inconvenience’. Right?”

As far as she knew. As far as any of them did. They relied on him, to determine if their future would be a success. He was the only one who could see which path to take, what choices would lead to their victory. He was the only one who knew just how thin the chance was, how precarious the choice. It would not benefit them to know. He did not need their doubt.

“Who was it?” Sojourn asked, referring to the scream that had summoned them here. The scream that had echoed hauntingly throughout the entirety of the Infinite Realms. 

Clockwork hadn’t looked. He looked now. 

“A boy, fourteen years old, between child and adult, between living and dead, between here and there.” 

Nocturn smiled, “How fitting.”

The stone shattered. Power and chaos, magic and will swirled around in a tornado, beating against the solid weight of their shield and making what was once so obviously strong seem weak and pitiful in comparison. 

Vortex’s eyes glowed in excitement. It was a sign, they all knew, that things were getting close. 

Eventually the storm faded and all that was left was a weathered pile of ash and rubble where there had once been a stone, where there had once been a statue, where there had once been nothing at all. 

It would come to nothing once more. 

Soon.

  The Infinite Realms had been lifeless for so long. Nothing more than ambient ectoplasm and void. A place. Nothing more and nothing less than it had to be. Many of the denizens had never seen them alive, existing as they once had. The panic was only natural. The frenzy, exciting and new. The heart of it all beating again. 

There was one ghost in particular, of course, who had only known the realms as they existed now. Sure there might also be others, newly made and newly dead, but this one was the important one. He’d been the one to give his life for the life around them now. 

Or at least, he’d given half of it. 

The Observants, of course, were furious. 

They had attempted to hunt down the Ancients, knowing it was they who had done this, who had planned this and then hidden it from the view of those who watch. Vortex had been taken first, as expected, and Undergrowth had fled to the mortal realm. The others also split, the time for them to come together was over; the time to prepare for the end was nearing. 

Clockwork, of course, their ever loyal subservient pet that could not leave his tower without their knowledge, that could not use his power without their permission, he’d never been looked at twice.

“You told us the threat was neutralized.” Nocturn said, sliding up next to one of Clockwork’s monitors. He watched a scene, where Daniel and Pariah fought. It was not a real fight, of course. Pariah had long shed the haze of bloodlust that had driven him mad, and was now attempting to be endearing, to rebuild a trust Clockwork had never actually had in him. 

Clockwork took a sip of his tea. It was made from some of Pariah’s newly grown coraleander leaves and made a thick, murky green tea that Clockwork quite enjoyed the taste and texture of. Unfortunately that was exactly why Pariah had grown them, and while Clockwork had snuck them away like a petty thief, he doubted that the missing leaves had gone even a moment unnoticed. 

It was infuriating and Clockwork sipped at it slowly, savoring it’s warmth.

“He is no longer the King. In fact, there is no King at all, just as I said it would be.”

Nocturn turned to meet his eyes, tilting his head just slightly in suspicion. “Yes, you did. Though I suppose the others thought you meant he would not escape his sleep. Or at least, that he would not escape his sleep until after .”

Clockwork looked away, towards the monitor. Pariah had soundly defeated Daniel and was laughing. Likely at the way the poor boy looked, his hair a mess and covered in the very coraleander leaves Clockwork was drinking. He’d need to wash them off before he transformed back into a human. While they wouldn’t be immediately deadly to a Half-Ghost, they would form a large, hard to explain, rash. 

“That wasn’t what I said though, was it?” Clockwork met Nocturn’s eyes once more. 

The other ghost just snorted and shook his head. “No, no I guess it wasn’t. Clockwork, the tightrope you’re walking, that future you see that you haven’t told us about? I really hope you get it. I do. Because the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows and I can’t imagine what would happen if you missed.”

Clockwork’s tea had gone cold. He continued to sip it. He ignored Nocturn’s words and he watched the screen as Pariah helped Daniel stand, only for Daniel to tackle him when he wasn’t expecting it. 

“I’ll take that under consideration.” 

It was becoming habit, he found, to lie to Nocturn. 

  Daniel was at the Clocktower, eating a plate of cookies and complaining about some of the varied ghosts he had to deal with and fight on a regular basis in his mortal realm. It was a side effect, of course, of Phantom’s new role as the Heart of The Infinite Realms. The smaller, weaker ghosts, especially younger and newly dead ones, had attempted to flee the Realms when they noticed the sudden changes. 

When the Observants had become so busy trying to find the cause of the change, so busy trying to hunt down what was left of Chaos’ children, that they could no longer micro-manage the state of the Realms. Could no longer constantly overstep their authority and keep their tasteless ‘Order’. 

The Realms had become more and more lively and Clockwork had found himself in a perpetual good mood. He took a cookie for himself. Nocturn caught him baking the other day; his expression had been dry as he congratulated Clockwork on his adoption. It was  a pointed accusation. 

He had shoved it to the back of his mind and decided to make some forgoent tea to go with the cookies. He hadn’t offered any to Nocturn. 

Daniel paused in his musings for a moment before speaking again, his voice careful. “I’ve been visiting Pariah.”

Clockwork hummed, not looking away from his screens. “I am aware.”

“Of course you are.” Daniel rolled his eyes. Then he sighed like he didn't know how to bring up what he was going to say next. “Did you… Did you know he was going to get free if you sent me after that key?” 

Ah, so he’d figured it out then. “It was a possibility. Each and every choice you make creates an entirely new future with entirely new consequences.” 

“He doesn’t seem all that bad…” Daniel argued, as if Clockwork was going to disagree with him. Clockwork raised an eyebrow, the one with the scar Pariah had given him, and looked over to him. “I mean, he just. When he first woke up he was really mad right? But like, I’d also be really mad if I finally woke up from a forced coma only to have Vlad there.”

Anyone would really. 

“And even though he sucked Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, no one actually ended up getting hurt. At least, no more than usual in a ghost attack. And I’ve been talking with the other ghosts that have been ‘Challenging’ him and they all say he's a pretty cool teacher… Like, he knows how to fight and he’s good at showing them how they can use their unique powers-”

Clockwork didn’t interrupt Daniel as he rambled. It was rare, at least since he’d been deposed, to hear lists of Pariah’s more positive aspects. It wasn’t uncomfortable so much as mildly frustrating. Was this part of Pariah’s ploy? Get Daniel to fall all over himself to recite poetics about Pariah to Clockwork. He should have learned by now that whatever affection he might hold for him, it would not be enough. Not to stop his plans, and certainly not to stop the others.

“So uh, you know, he seems… chiller. Without the crown and ring and stuff.”

“Yes, it was the Ring of Rage Daniel, what did you think it was used for?” 

There was a small imperceptible shift in Daniel’s expression, as if he’d realized something and made the choice to file the knowledge away for later. He must have learned that from Pariah as well. “So, if there’s things that can change even powerful ghosts like Pariah, are there things that could change, say… one of the Ancients?”

Was Daniel befriending another Ancient? Clockwork smiled, that was good then. He could hold that against them, the weight of his failure to keep an emotional distance wouldn’t be as stark, if another Ancient or two fell just as easily to Daniel’s pleasant company. He could use that, he simply had to find out which of them it was. Perhaps Sojourn? He was always soft for children, but Clockwork hadn’t been aware of him returning to the Barrens lately, and Daniel rarely went any further than the Time Locked Lands or the Far Frozen. 

“It is good to befriend others Daniel,” he says halfheartedly, searching through his mirrors to locate Sojourn, “but remember not to trust too easily. You never know the goals of those around you, if they might be using you towards their own ends.”

“Of course,” Daniel replied, his voice hard. 

Clockwork looked over to him, he was staring at the dregs of his tea, expression dark. 

“Would you like more tea?” Clockwork offered, wondering what had plummeted the boy’s attitude so suddenly. 

Daniel looked up, a small smile on his lips, “Yes Please.”

Clockwork left to make more, his mind still trying to find which Ancient Daniel had befriended. 

  “The Observants are completely ignorant of your machinations,” Pariah said as Clockwork entered his study. “Of course, they don’t know you as well as they think.”

Clockwork should stop visiting him. Should never have started, a fact that Nocturn was only too happy to remind him of. Sometimes Clockwork wondered if Nocturn got his taste of Chaos from Clockwork's mistakes, he seemed so dedicated to reveling in them. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about the Observants. I have my fill without the need to remark upon them when absent from their presence.” Clockwork was scowling. He could hide his irritation, but despite his lies and trickery he was hardly an accomplished actor. 

Pariah chuckled, flipping another page in the thick book he’d been reading. The title was faded, but Clockwork recognized it easily enough. It was a detailed history of the Infinite Realms after King Dark had been sealed away. It was a long history, though not as long as the history that came before his reign entirely. 

It was also the exact kind of thing Pariah would read cover to cover, like the obsessive monster he was. 

“I suppose you came to warn me away from your ward then?” Pariah asked, his voice casual. Clockwork scoffed, allowing a roll of his eyes before floating over to Pariah’s shelves and grabbing one of the books that looked recently used. It was about old soul binding rituals, much like what had happened to Fright Knight. It was amusing, the thought that Pariah’s oldest friend might still be whining about his little curse. 

“Hardly,” Clockwork said, idly flipping through the pages, “if I could control Daniel I never would have let him near you to begin with.”

Pariah smiled, placing his own book down. “Yes, I imagine you wouldn’t have. It would be a mistake to let me get close to him and realize he is the reason the Infinite Realms have started to sing.”

He’d figured it out then. Of course that wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. Unlike the Observants, Pariah was wickedly intelligent and fully capable of coming to the appropriate conclusions. “Sing? An interesting way to describe it.”

Arms encircled his waist and Clockwork was pulled back into a warm chest. Pariah’s chin rested on Clockwork’s shoulder as he spoke softly into his ear. “Is it enough? The realms feel alive, weaker ghosts are fleeing or banding together once more. It resembles the time we once had, between Chaos and Order. Will you stop here?”

“There’s nothing more I can do,” he lied. 

Pariah hummed an agreement and reached out to flip a few pages through the book Clockwork had been holding. There was a beautifully illustrated drawing of a necklace, bewitched and layered in curses. Pariah must have memorized the pages, of course. “Would you wear jewelry if I made it for you? I would see you decked in gold and finery if I could.”

Clockwork slammed the book closed, just missing Pariah’s fingers. He didn’t think about the earrings Pariah had once gifted him, or how he wore them even now, dangling hidden beneath his hood. “You should know better than to ask that.” 

He felt a smile against his neck. “Then I won’t ask.”

  He held the Thermos in his hand. 

The other Daniel was a menace, truly. But he would not be so desperate to ruin Daniel’s life anymore. It had been long enough for him to realize that his existence was no longer predicated on Daniel’s decisions, or on the loss of his family. 

It would change him, of course. The knowledge that he exists in the same time as his once family will either soften his grief, or sharpen its edges. There were so many paths he could take, and Clockwork could not see them all, did not bother to look much further than the distance he needed him for. 

There was something more important than his grief that he and Clockwork had in common. Something Daniel and Pariah likely had in common with them as well: the detestation of the Observants. 

Clockwork opened the thermos, releasing Daniel’s worst nightmare and not thinking about how the young half-ghost had given it to him so easily, had trusted him so quickly when all Clockwork had done was protect his human family one time. 

The other, once possible, Daniel appeared in an explosion of light and matter and immediately attacked, using his claws to scratch at Clockwork’s face. He was prepared for that though, years trapped in a thermos had eroded much of Dan’s more refined aspects. It would work in Clockworks favor of course, he had made sure of that.

For now, Clockwork froze time and moved behind him. That way his wild attack would meet nothing but ambient ectoplasm and Clockwork could speak his piece. Provided his piece took less than a second to speak.

He allowed time to flow and watched as the other Daniel floundered, confused, only to instantly realize just what Clockwork had done and turn around, ready to attack once more. Clockwork smiled as their eyes met and asked, “Would you like to End the Observants and their Order?”

the other Daniel attacked him, but Clockwork could see the consideration in his eyes. The thought had been implanted, now all he had to do was sit back and watch. the other Daniel had always been rather good at ruining things after all. 

“CLOCKWORK!” Daniel yelled, flying frantically into the Clocktower. “Clockwork Dan escaped somehow! He attacked Amity Park!” 

His desperate flight slowed when he saw Clockwork floating casually at his screens as he always had. He was watching a specific screen now, and pulled the image onto the largest one to share with Daniel. “Yes, I know.”

Daniel looked between him and the screen, his expression growing more and more confused. “But, he was here though. Locked up. How did he escape?”

Clockwork didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m sorry Daniel,” he lied. “Your trust in me was misplaced. He escaped while I was distracted with another matter and I was unable to stop him. It’s my fault.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, searching for something in Clockwork’s expression, and then in Clockwork’s screens. The only thing he saw though, was the other Daniel causing havoc and destruction. After visiting Amity Park and re-traumatising Daniel’s sister, the other Daniel had been driven away by Daniel, whose power had become far superior in the time since they had last met. It was only natural of course, Daniel’s existence was unique and far beyond that of Dan’s mangled pieced together form of conflicting obsessions and damaged cores. 

It was possible, Clockwork knew, for the other Daniel to stabilize properly. Perhaps he could become a proper ghost, perhaps he could stop attempting to restrict what humanity he had left. Either way, it did not matter in the end. If anything, his existence was a fun riddle that would play itself out long after Clockwork’s plans came to fruition. 

Clockwork looked over at Daniel, his expression hidden behind the shadows of his hood. The boy was staring emptily at the corner of the Clocktower that led to the inner dungeons where the other Daniel had been hidden away.  After a moment he turned away, hiding his own expression, and began to walk. As if his legs had become too heavy to fly. 

“It’s fine. I’ll get him back. It won’t happen again.” There was a promise in his voice and it softened to be almost inaudible entirely. “I won’t let it.”

After he left, Clockwork turned back to the screen with the other Daniel on it. He was finished terrorizing the ghost from before, and was now floating listlessly in the void of the Infinite Realms. Likely, he was warring with his obsessions- or his emotions- it was hard to tell which. Eventually though, he shook his head, looked up as if to catch Clockwork’s eye, and flew off.

In the direction of the Observants. 

  It’s eyeball was glaring at him, the normally dull yellow of it’s sclera bright with fury. “You were given responsibility over him! You were entrusted to keep him from destroying the Realms!”

Clockwork’s own eye twitched as he fought back an eyeroll. Those who Watch were as predictable as ever, not showing up at the moment of Dan’s release but instead at the moment he began to take his rage out on the Observants. Their responsibilities had always been superfluous though, a vague excuse to do as they pleased in the name of Order. 

“I failed. He escaped. Woe is me.” He floated over to one of his more intricate gadgets and began to tinker with it, pretending to be busy. “Surely an Order such as yours, full of powerful ghosts that command the Realms, did not come to me in fear though? He attacked you directly, does that not make your vow of inaction void?”

“ You-! ”

“Of course, it would be different if you simply couldn’t defeat him. But… he’s only a decade dead. That would be an embarrassment.”

The other Observant that had come to scold (and demand his servitude) floated in front of its companion so as to cut off a likely incensed reaction. “He’s an abomination, and an amalgamation. Surely you can understand why we wanted him dealt with before it came to this.”

Clockwork inclined his head, playing at civility. “Perhaps then, you should seek to work alongside Phantom. I have it on relatively good authority he’s also trying to deal with your resident menace.”

Both of the Observants took his suggestion as an insult, one even growing red with it. “That Abomination? He should be destroyed along with it!”

“Pity,” Clockwork said, turning back to the screens and watching as the other Daniel tore the core out of another Observant’s chest and crushed it in his palm. He wasn’t even absorbing them for their power. It was a waste, but Clockwork was certain it was a waste born of trauma. Dan’s creation had, after all, been due to a botched absorption with a powerful ghost core. “You can leave now.”

“You must deal with this.”

“I will deal with it when the time is right,” he said in lieu of an answer. 

The Observants, disgruntled and unwilling to leave, as if hiding in Clockwork’s lair would somehow protect them, made comment after comment demanding his action and threatening punishment should he fail. He replied with sarcasm and an aloof attitude that soon had them leaving out the door if only to try and do what they could to tighten his bonds. 

He sighed, there was time still. He should make cookies, that always seemed to calm him, help him to exist in the present and not become impatient for what is yet to be. He headed to the kitchen, only to see an unexpected visitor at his table. 

“Nocturn, you’re early.”

The other Ancient nodded. “Yes, your plan seems to have worked flawlessly. The Authority of the Observants has been shaken. Much of the power they had gained through fear and reputation has dwindled, but…”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow as he opened his cabinets. There was egyptian sand flour left over, it would be dryer than using something more modern, but the age would add a good aftertaste. He just needed to add extra Honey-Wasp bits from the outskirts of The Undergrowth and that should balance it. Maybe some purified ectoplasm. Pariah gifted him a jar after he had somehow managed to create a device to filter it from the Infinite Realms. 

He had also made an absolutely unsubtle offer to join him in his new ‘sauna’ that Clockwork had pointedly refused. 

“But?” he prompted, there was little information he could glean from silence. 

Nocturn watched him prepare the batter. He sighed and stood, grabbing a knife and helping to mince the Honey-Wasps before speaking again. “But they still have their numbers, and much of their actual power. And Clockwork, Pariah has made his move.”

“I know,” Clockwork admitted, “but is that not in our favor as well?”

“Not if he takes more power from them, Pariah on his own is not a fight we can accept lightly. Anything more being beholden to him is hardly something I wish to see.” 

Clockwork cracked a Kraken’s egg into the mixture and moved the bowl closer to Nocturn so he could scoop the Honey-Wasp bits into it as well, without losing any of the juice. Mixing it would be troublesome, some of the more experimental batters attempted to gain sentience and would try to escape the bowl. “It will work in our favor either way. the other Daniel caused havoc, their power was broken across the realms. Pariah is merely salting the ground we have burned.” 

He used a dull knife to cut into the batter and stirred, stopping any attempts at formation. Nocturn grabbed the bowl from him, forcing eye contact. “What if he seeks something else?”

“Haven’t I already escaped the chains he bound me in before?” Clockwork laughed. “Do I not have allies that would find short work of cutting chains that I did not allow to bind me?”

The bowl was set back down and Clockwork and Nocturn both made short work of dividing the dough and setting it into the oven. “We could not break the bindings of the Observants,” Nocturn said as Clockwork closed the oven door. 

“That is different, that was part of our plans. They needed to never suspect me, if we were to get this far.” Clockwork waved him off. “Would you like a cookie?”

“We have to wait for them to cook, Clockwork.” Nocturn said, exasperated.

Clockwork simply rolled his eyes and increased the time surrounding the oven. “I don’t wait.”

Daniel hadn’t visited again since Clockwork allowed the other Daniel  to escape. It was possible, he admitted in the back of his mind, that Daniel blamed him for what happened. As well he should. Yet, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

He was watching the screens again. Aiming them in every direction he could to see everything as it played out. Most were occupied by the remnants of the Order he had set about decimating. A few were dedicated to their interconnected Lair, the place where they held their play courts and kept their prisoners. It was where they kept Vortex before he was freed. One screen though, was aimed at Pariah’s Keep. 

It had been a simple thing that Clockwork had neither encouraged nor discouraged, Daniel’s visits with Pariah. But now that Clockwork’s own visits had come to an end, it had become something distinctly bitter, a feeling that was building in his chest, where his core hummed, that Clockwork was ignoring with all the practice of a man dead set on his goals. 

Daniel would visit again, of course. Clockwork could even tell the exact date and time, or at least the most likely ones. He didn’t look at the futures where Daniel never came back, there was no point in uselessly fretting about it. He’d be fine, there were more important things to deal with now. 

He could feel the pressure of his binds loosening as more and more of the Observants were hunted down. Not all of them were ended by Dan, of course. They had made many enemies. Both Vortex and Undergrowth had gone out of their way to visit quite a number themselves, along with a few of the other Ancients. Clockwork was certainly tempted to do so, alas, the restrictions upon him prevented it still. And the only way for those restrictions to end was for those wielding the reins to End. And well, then there wouldn’t be anyone left to take his ire out upon would there? 

Instead he allowed his own part in their demise to be enough for his bruised ego and the millennia of torment he’d undergone beneath them. Then he ate a cookie and kept watch of his screens. 

Pariah was teaching Daniel how to use a sword. Pandora had attempted to teach him swordsmanship but Daniel had been disinclined to it. He wasn’t particularly elegant to be fair, and the finesse and practiced movement of Pandora’s sword was more akin to an art than anything else. Her limbs risked entanglement if she wasn’t careful and had developed a style suited to such. 

Daniel was much more inclined to blunt, ferocious movements. He often thought with his fist before anything else, even as a ghost with a multitude of powers to command. He used speed and strength to win and outmaneuver his opponents and despite his lack of polish, he often won due to those two traits alone. Pariah was a talented teacher, in that he was clearly taking what Daniel had already in ample supply, and taught him how to wield it appropriately to its maximum use. 

He was still only beginning of course, but Daniel was a fast learner and had grown significantly in a short period of time. 

Clockwork had toyed with the idea of taking Daniel on as an official apprentice once or twice before. Teaching him how to exist beyond the means which he had become accustomed to as a human. While he would not have Clockwork’s inclination for time specifically, Daniel’s connection to the Realms would allow him a level of control over his surroundings and the beings that exist in them that simply does not exist in anyone outside of the Ancients. And even then, Clockwork’s Time was different enough from the others’ domains to be unique in and of itself in a similar vein to Daniel’s powers. Even if they’d only just barely begun to show. 

But it was a risk to do so before everything else came to fruition. If Daniel realized his plans, it would be troublesome. He likely would not agree to the lengths Clockwork is willing to reach, and more than that, there is no guarantee that his existence as half human would not have him attempting to side with Order over Chaos. No, it was better to wait and see how it all played out first. There wasn’t much left to do before the end. 

Yes it would lead to anger. Perhaps even to hatred. It would be fitting for Clockwork. He had never known a love that had yet to turn. That had truly been any kind of unconditional. 

But he would be free. 

Finally, finally free. 

Free from this horrid linear existence, free from his servitude, free from his bonds. The root of him, the core, had been born from Chaos, from the mess of all things and no things, and like any child wishing to cradle in the arms of its mother, Clockwork longed once more for it. 

He had been patient, as had the others. There was little left to do. 

  When Daniel finally visited again Clockwork had made cookies. 

They resembled human chocolate chips, if one squinted, and Clockwork had made sure to take them out of the oven just as Daniel arrived so they would be warm.

“There you are Daniel,” he greeted. The cookies were still moving and he had to give the tray he was holding a bit of a shake to get them to stop. He doubted Daniel would eat them if he thought they were alive. 

The boy didn’t look well. He had deep bags under his eyes, and a skittish, weary look about him. 

Clockwork clicked his tongue. “You need to sleep,” he said, not waiting for Daniel to speak. 

“What?” The boy lifted his head, confused. 

“I said, you should sleep.” Clockwork grabbed one of the amulets from the wall and placed it around Daniel’s neck. “I’ll stop time for a few hours, you can sleep here if you want.”

Daniel just blinked. “Oh.”

Nodding, Clockwork turned back to his screens so he could keep watch. Nocturn had warned that Pariah was making his move and Clockwork was determined to keep an eye on him now, when the timing was most crucial. 

He felt a tug on his sleeve. 

“Clockwork…”

He looked down to catch Daniel’s eyes. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, “thanks.” He grabbed the amulet in one hand, a torn expression on his face. Then he floated off to the room Clockwork had given him to sleep.

Watching as his ward wandered off, Clockwork waited until he was out of sight to grab hold of time and let it rest for a moment. It was the least he could do. 

It wasn’t long after their fall that the final thread snapped and Clockwork opened his eyes in triumph. Everything was available to him now. There were no hidden futures, no shrouded pasts. His screens multiplied around him as even his Lair was freed from its limits. Like a beast stretching from a long hibernation, Clockwork lost himself to his Obsession, revelled in the freedom he had long gambled away. 

The Infinite Realms felt it as he left the Clocktower for no reason other than because he wanted to and he didn’t have to ask. He didn’t have to come up with some convoluted reason as to why this was perfectly acceptable before his own body allowed him to leave the doors of his own Lair. It felt wonderful, he almost took down his hood to see everything around him with the eyes of a free spirit. 

He didn’t though, it would be too much of a hassle to wrangle his hair back and he didn’t really want someone to see him so freely bared. It was enough in every way, that he was finally free. 

“I almost forgot how powerful you were, Clockwork.” He turned to see Misery Vex, lounging comfortably just outside his lair. “The Eyes Around Us are gone then?”

Clockwork nodded, looking to the future, looking to the past. She had been waiting here for him, but not for long. And she wouldn’t have waited much longer. “Are you ready for what happens next?” he asked. 

“Are you?”

He nodded again. There weren’t any more preparations to make, how could he be anything but ready?

They didn’t meet at the Clocktower this time. 

It was no longer necessary after all. This time they met in the night. The soft evening of eternal sleep and dreams, Nocturn’s lair. It was spacious if nothing else, and creative with its decoration. Should one of them wish to sit, they merely needed to chance sitting and see if the space around them would accommodate. It suited him immensely. 

“Have you found her yet?” Misery asked.

Sojourn nodded, a small enthusiastic smile hidden under his beard. “Yes, Clockwork and I were able to locate her shattered core amongst Pandora’s boxes.”

“ It will not be easy to receive her, and it will only be more difficult to revive her,” Nocturn warned, “especially if we wish to keep this to ourselves. Rather than risk the entirety of the realms turning on us as they did the Observants.”

Clockwork nodded, “we shouldn’t do much in more than pairs. Sojourn and Misery should seek Pandora. Nocturn and I can set the ritual once the pieces are complete.”

“And the rest of us?” Undergrowth scowled, he hated Nocturn’s lair. It was cold and empty, barren of any more physical matters and there was nowhere for him to take root. Clockwork suspected half of the reason it was that way was intended to irritate Undergrowth specifically. 

Sojourn clapped his hands together and smiled, his eagerness truly knew no bounds and his obvious delight was nearly infectious. “You’re our escape plan of course! We’ll need help once we locate the right box, Pandora’s obsession is hardly a good one to be on the wrong side of.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Vortex grinned.

Clockwork couldn’t help but agree, what are they waiting for indeed? 

  “What is Chaos, Clockwork?” Daniel asked. But Clockwork was distracted.

He hadn’t expected Daniel to show up today, he hadn’t paid attention to it. There was so much to do, so much to get ready for. The time was now after all. 

He took care to answer anyways, the changes that were to come would affect the boy. At least a little. He was strong enough that he would thrive in Chaos, and it would help to nurture his Obsession, if the weaker denizens of the Realms needed help. And they would

“Chaos was the first, how it all began. Everything started with Chaos or nothing could have been at all.” 

Daniel frowned, a small furrow in his brow. “That… didn’t really-“

Clockwork paused for a moment. “Is something wrong Daniel?”

He sighed. “So if you were made from Chaos, is she like, your mother?”

“No. Chaos is not sentient so much as conceptual.” Clockwork frowned, “though I suppose she predated concepts as well if she was the first. Chaos was neither one thing nor many things. It’s safe to say Chaos was everything and everything came from her. But that did not make her nurturing” 

Clockwork looked back at Daniel, letting time flow smoothly once more. It wouldn’t do to delay. 

There was a hint of something in Daniel’s eyes, a wariness that Clockwork had never seen before. It must have been due to their conversation, but Clockwork couldn’t place what about it would have Daniel on edge. Chaos would not be any more a threat to him than it would be the other Ancients. 

“Clockwork, if Chaos came back…” he paused, as if the words had been stuck in his throat, “what would happen to the humans? The mortals?” 

What a strange question. “Life would not exist as it does now, utter chaos would not permit it.”

It had been something of a sport, to watch Sojourn and Misery in their attempts to find and excavate the remnants of the Core of Chaos. Clockwork and Nocturn had watched it from the safety and comfort of Clockwork’s lair, on the largest of his screens. 

“They’re having fun aren’t they?” Nocturn mused, taking a sip of his tea. He’d made it himself in Clockwork’s kitchen, had been insistent about it when he’d seen Clockwork start to make his own.

“Pandora is a valiant warrior and a good fighter. Misery has been on the sidelines for some time since the end of Pariah’s court.” Clockwork’s tea was cold. He frowned and set it aside.

“Yes, it’s good to see her stretching her limbs. I hadn’t seen all of them since her last fight.”

Clockwork thought back, the fight Nocturn was referring to played on one of the smaller screens. It was a gladiator based competition, where Pariah had sent her as a member of his court to show his power. She had challenged the Lord of Little Crawlers to a duel and shredded him to pieces before even five minutes had passed. Then she had collected herself, reset her veil, and gone right back to Pariah’s Keep. 

Now she was using every extra limb she could against Pandora, swords clashing with long knitting needles and strings of silk. Watching the fight was mesmerizing to be sure, almost akin to a dance, if not for the frustrated vulgarities being thrown around and Sojourn’s overly eager cheering from the back.

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

“Sojourn will remember what they’re supposed to be doing when he almost drops one of the boxes held in his arms. Upon that realization he will sneak away while Pandora is distracted and meet with the others. From there they will come here with their spoils and it will be our turn to prove our worth.” Clockwork answered, easily detailing the future ahead of them. 

Nocturn nodded and took a sip of his tea.

  It didn’t happen exactly like Clockwork had predicted. But it was close enough. Sojourn had bypassed Vortex and Undergrowth completely and simply flown straight to Clockwork‘s lair on his own. Nocturn spared Clockwork a glance, but he remained unaffected. It was still on track to be an ideal future. 

Once Sojourn entered his lair Clockwork grabbed hold of time with his hand and twisted , forcing it to bend and still under his palm. The trip to the Cave was only a step after that and once there, he let loose and released time to settle amicably around them.

“Amazing,” Sonourn said, “I do think I’d like to travel this way more often. It’s quite convenient.”

Nocturn patted him on the shoulder and grabbed one of the delicately detailed boxes he’d been balancing precariously in his arms. “You’d need to be very careful if you did, there’s no telling what might get caught up in all that twisting and turning.”

“It won’t matter much longer after this,” Clockwork said, taking his own box. 

The entirety of Chaos was not here, her core long since mostly destroyed, but there was enough to recreate something should they use the ritual they had devised. 

It needed to be hidden, so they had found a cave. It was ancient, and once thought to be a reliable doorway into the spiritual and mortal realms, every wall was covered in ancient arts and writings. No rhyme or reason between them, a bit of a mess conceptually, but perfect for their purposes. Once Vortex had destroyed it in the mortal realm, it had been simple enough to recreate, especially using Undergrowth and Misery Vex’s powers. 

Most ghosts dared not travel here, where they placed it. It was a deeper part of the Infinite Realms, where the pressures of the ambient ectoplasm was strong enough to kill even some of the more stable spirits, certainly more than any Watcher could have ever handled. 

Clockwork gathered the ashes in the center of their chosen chamber. Three rights from the first left. Nocturn moved around the edges, the walls solid and firm under his hands as he tested them. And Sojourn, setting his own box aside, lit the flames. 

It began. 

They had known the work would be hard, tedious even. Most mortals, when they picture rituals like this, imagine chanting and holding hands, perhaps some use of indomitable will. But this was far more personal, more hands on.

Clockwork took the broken edge of a shattered piece of core, and began to mold it, shaping and soothing it into a puzzle-like shape. He had spent time looking into human carpentry practices, and had come across the traditional Chinese techniques of Lu Ban. 

It had taken more than a human lifetime to learn it properly and then suit it to his own needs, but he put it into practice now, shaping the shattered pieces anew and slotting them together so that they might fit and stay snug.

Sojourn had weaved together layer after layer of treated ectoplasm into a fine cloth and was now sewing it into a fitted dress, each stitch small and tidy, seamless against the weave. 

The one who stoked the flame, who kept its energy strong and the newly forming core well fed, was Nocturn. He kept a measured gaze upon it, not once turning away or getting distracted. 

This continued for an eternity, the creation, or recreation, of something both ancient and now new was exhaustive work. But eventually, Clockwork felt a hum. A small, weak thing that would have left him breathless had he needed to breathe. 

Chaos was born again, though faint, though weak. Not anything close to what she once was, but still, she was there, feeding on the flames of her own ashes, pieces of her own core held together and finally finding life. 

They needed to keep going. This was delicate work, if they got distracted, if there was even one misstep, it would be over. Chaos would be what she is now, what they made of her, and not what she needed to be. 

The fire went out.

“ Damn ,” Nocturn hissed, quickly turning to look around. He did not bother to relight the flame, it was too late. Clockwork felt hollow, had they truly failed? But how? 

He acted quickly, bundling the newly formed and still fragile core into Sojourn’s half sewn garment and thrusting it fully into the other Ancient’s hands. 

“You are the fastest of us, run, hide her away before we lose her entirely.” Sojourn nodded solemnly, flying quickly through the winding tunnels that led out of the cave. 

Nocturn scowled, “whoever is there should be glad I am merciful. Come out now and I shall forgo eternal torment for a quick End.”

There was only silence. 

Clockwork was growing irritated himself and looked to the future, only to see Nocturn tackled into a wall by a familiar black and white blur. 

“Daniel?!” He said, his thoughts screeching to a halt. But, there was no way. He couldn’t have followed them. He would have had to know about the cave and been lying in wait for the exact moment to-

There was a soft sound, like the clinking of a delicate chain, as Clockwork felt a weight upon his neck. All at once he felt the universe stand still, as if he had been trapped in the moment, the singular moment no longer able to spread himself beyond. It was cloying, claustrophobic. Something he never thought he’d experience again. 

And he knew who was behind it. 

“You’ve always been impatient my dear.” Pariah spoke softly, his lips far too close. 

Clockwork fled, slipping between moments to force space between them almost on instinct alone. Pariah simply let him go, a smug smile on his face. No, he wasn’t supposed to be here. How did he know about this place?

What had he placed on Clockwork’s neck?

He lifted a hand, not taking his eyes off of Pariah in case he decided to get any closer, and felt around his neck. It was a chain, delicate and just long enough to have slid over his head and dangle its pendant at a point on his chest, just above the glass. The shape of it was vaguely familiar, but Clockwork couldn’t place it.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, using anger to hide the tremble in his voice.

Pariah’s expression softened and he took a step forward. “Did I not say I would see you decked in gold?”

No…

The necklace…

It had been a cursed necklace, layered in charms meant for protection that slowly twisted into possession and control. It shouldn’t have been strong enough to cause any trouble at all to Clockwork, if something this simple had worked, Pariah would have used it long ago in the peak of his madness. 

Clockwork grabbed the chain, intending to rip it off, but Pariah spoke, startling him. “I wouldn’t, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Then why did you put it on me?” he tugged at the chain in emphasis, without his strength. Pariah never warned for no reason. 

The bastard smiled, like Clockwork had asked a stupid question, one he should know the answer to. Clockwork scowled, and moved further away from him. His back hit a wall. The cave, while earlier it had been comforting, a sign that eternal chaos was close at hand, that all Clockwork had done was paying off in the end, it was now more reminiscent of a stone cage. 

A trap.

He’d walked straight into a trap, one Pariah had been laying since he awoke. And Clockwork had never paid it any heed, had not bothered with his machinations because he assumed Pariah would be too slow, had thought whatever he did would be too weak. He had underestimated him, and now Pariah Dark was walking towards him, a lion stalking its prey.

Clockwork froze time.

He was still moving. Clockwork had frozen time and Pariah was still moving . 

It shouldn’t have been possible, there was nothing restricting Clockwork’s power in that way. He felt the threads of all existence tangled around him, grabbed the ones moving forward and tugged, sharp, desperate, to keep them still. He felt them still. 

Pariah kept moving though. 

“How-?” Everything else had frozen, all around them was silence and the only things that moved were the two of them. It was a strange kind of dance, one stepping closer and the other floating away. 

“I made it myself, the charm. It ties you to me, obviously.” Pariah caught him, gently because he didn’t need to use force, didn’t need to use any of the almost limitless strength behind him. “It’s based off the contract you signed with the Observants, I hadn’t honestly expected it to be so blatantly one sided when I read it. Though I suppose it was on purpose, a miscalculation on your part, in the end.”

Clockwork pulled his hand away, but Pariah simply moved with the action and stepped closer, crowding against him. “It doesn’t work like that,” Clockwork said through clenched teeth. A one-sided contract that gave away so much of himself was necessary. It was also only possible because Clockwork had signed it. Pariah couldn’t mimic that without Clockwork’s consent, that wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how any of this was supposed to work. 

Pariah hummed in agreement. “It wouldn’t be, if that was all I did.” He brushed a lock of hair from Clockwork’s eyes. “The Order of the Observants was in chaos. They were desperate. They wanted someone powerful to protect them. They were willing to give anything for the possibility they might find safety.”

Then he pulled out a medallion of his own, a horribly familiar one.

Oh.

So that was all it took…

Pariah was right, it had been a miscalculation indeed. 

“Even if they gave me to you, the contract dissolved with the Order. I felt it break.” 

“It did,” Pariah took hold of one of Clockwork’s hands and held it to his lips in a kiss, “But I had you for long enough. Long enough to bind you to myself instead. All it took was some craftswork.”

He let go of Clockwork’s hand to touch the pendant hanging from his neck instead. It was a gentle, reverent touch, as if thanking the damned thing for its work in keeping Clockwork trapped for him. “Luckily I was up to date on all the most prominent binding curses. I have a friend who suffers from such an affliction after all.”

“Fuck you.” 

Pariah laughed, a genuine surprised chuckle that truly lit him up from the inside. His eyes were so warm, his hands burned like brands, and Clockwork wanted nothing more than to tear out his other eye with his teeth. “Come Clockwork, you’ve failed. Let’s go home.” 

  Pariah led him back to the Clocktower, his lair. His home and prison. Clockwork stormed past him once they were inside. “And what is your plan now? I can’t imagine I’d be much use in subjecuting the Realms, as you can see I’m quite traitorous by nature. All of my previous masters can attest.”

“Then it’s good I’m keeping you for your sense of humor,” Pariah said as he closed the door behind him. 

It was the first time Pariah Dark had ever been inside Clockwork’s lair. Pariah had always been a cautious ghost, it made sense that he wouldn’t allow himself the vulnerability of being inside another powerful ghost’s lair, a place where they quite literally held all of the power and had all of the control. 

The irony of course, was that the moment Pariah had stepped inside, it was Clockwork that felt vulnerable. Exposed like a raw nerve, every part of him standing on end, tightly coiled and ready to flee. 

“How is this exactly how I have always envisioned it?” Pariah says dryly, his eyes roaming freely, invasively over every nook and cranny. Every randomly placed cog and haphazard ticking machine. It was a chaotic mess, naturally, it was Clockwork. 

Clockwork picked up a twentieth century alarm clock and weighed it in his hands before chucking it as hard as he could towards Pariah. The bastard caught it, of course. And Clockwork scowled.

“Did you often picture yourself waltzing into my Lair?”

Pariah set the clock down carefully, as if it would break. As if it were truly a piece of Clockwork himself. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t have. You were certainly at home in mine.”

“Oh please, half the Realms has access to your Lair. We are not the same.” Clockwork scoffed, crossing his arms and floating awkwardly in the middle of the room. He didn’t want to be any closer to Pariah, but neither did he want to risk being backed into a wall again . It seemed a recurring treat for Pariah, to cage him in that way. 

There was a touch of mischief in Pariah’s smile when he replied. “Perhaps we can change that, would you like more visitors?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

Clockwork grabbed another trinket to throw, this one he had pried from the walls. Pariah handled that just as easily, an uncomfortable expression aimed at the destroyed part of Clockwork’s wall. He was truly the most obnoxious perfectionist. If Clockwork’s mangled mess of a lair was going to bother him he shouldn’t have bothered to come inside.

In fact, if he was going to be disappointed so easily he shouldn’t have chained him in the first place. It wasn’t as if the bindings guaranteed something like loyalty. They couldn’t even force him to act should he not wish to. Clockwork wasn’t going to change from how he had been for eons under the damn Eyes. 

“Why did you do this?” Clockwork asked, “And don’t dare say it’s only because you said you would. You may be meticulous but you are not beholden to simple words.”

Pariah had fixed his wall. And was now attempting to reinstate the very same decoration Clockwork had used as ammunition. It was strangely domestic to see and Clockwork felt rage simmer and build. Would he simply make himself at home then? Perhaps he would seek to combine their lairs in a twisted amalgamation so that he might seek order where it damn well did not belong.

“You were going to leave.” 

What a useless excuse. “Did you lose your ability to reason permanently to that crown?”

This time it was Pariah that rolled his eyes. “Obviously not, if I was able to out-fox Clockwork of all ghosts.”

“You had help.” Clockwork said through grit teeth. He wouldn’t ask who, he didn’t think he could handle having it confirmed.

Pariah’s eyes sparkled. “So you knew?”

“I figured it out.”

“Feeling very betrayed, Clockwork?” This time Pariah’s smile was sharp, a vicious little thing that certainly made him more recognizable as the fallen tyrant he actually was. 

Clockwork refused to rise to the bait. He did not regret, it was impossible to feel regret when every single decision he’d ever made had been so thoroughly calculated. “I wasn’t going to leave. Where would I even go, Pariah?”

“You were leaving me.” Pariah walked towards him, quicker than his usual slow prowl. Clockwork had chanced a step back himself but it only served to darken Pariah’s expression further so he stilled instead and allowed himself to be caught and held. Pariah’s hands were heavy, one landing on his hip and the other reaching for his wrist. “You were disappearing to the flows of Time, one minute here and the next somewhere no one could follow you. You speak of chaos and the freedom it would give you, but you lie to yourself when you say that is all that you desire. The freedom you had so desperately sought, how lonely would it have been.”

Pariah had not been able to talk after that, too busy weathering Clockwork’s sudden violent outrage. 

Nocturn was the first to visit him, to see Clockwork’s anger, his desperate lashing out. He had the same expression he’d always had when the topic of Pariah or Daniel had come up. The look of undisguised pity, as if he had known from the start that Clockwork would fail, that he would be chained in this way, the moment his freedom was closer than at any other time.��

“We do not hate you for your failure, Clockwork,” Nocturn said, and Clockwork bared his teeth. It had been sometime since he’d carved out an eye in petty vengeance but he was not above making it a hobby.

Nocturn simply kept his distance, just one step away with one of those damned medallions around his neck, stopping Clockwork from freezing him in place in his own lair. “You’ve always been easily twisted by affection, too willing to be tied down with familiarity.”

His words hurt, like an arrow piercing through Clockwork’s chest. He hadn’t thought it would be so literal, hadn’t taken Pariah’s threats seriously. Had believed, genuinely, that he would be able to escape whatever bonds Pariah had fashioned for him. Had not thought to protect himself thoroughly enough and now all was for naught. Nocturn said he harbored no ill will, but he should . 

And Clockwork was distraught that he did not. 

He deflated and Nocturn floated closer, just within range. But Clockwork’s arms hung heavy, and he was exhausted now, the weight of it all too much. “You should. Chaos is lost to us.” he spoke, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” Nocturn acquiesced, “but Chaos was lost to us long ago. It was a child’s hope, that we could get it back.”

“You are content then? To rot in containment in an infinite realm of order and stability?”

A laugh escaped Nocturn, perplexing Clockwork and only flaring his temper worse. The other Ancient didn’t even try to hide as he fell into a laughing fit. “I would not be, no. But my oldest friend, I am not the one in containment. I have always known you look too much towards the forest and its tallest trees, very rarely have you ever noticed the grass or the leaves.”

“Speak sense,” Clockwork snapped. It was his job to speak in riddles, he had little patience to hear them now. 

Nocturn did not call him on his hypocrisy though, instead he shook his head and floated closer, relaxing next to Clockwork as if they were two friends taking tea. “It was not, as you believed, an all or nothing gamble.”

“Was it not?”

“No, the realms are back to Anarchy as they should be. The Observants were the last hold in their attempts to tame them, and they have been destroyed. There is no King, not even a sleeping one, and Chaos exists.”

Clockwork listened, the cold weight of failure that had settled in his chest chipped and cracked as Nocturn spoke on. “She does not exist as she had.”

“But perhaps this is a better way,” Nocturn pondered, “last time, Chaos reigned so supreme it seemed all were insistent to seek order. Then order reigned supreme and we sought Chaos. Perhaps now, with the Realms alive once more, and order and Chaos in balance, it will last instead.”

Nocturn placed a hand on the top of Clockwork’s head, petting his hair. “The other Ancients and I shall seek our fun, and find ways to exist in this new existence. It is only you, I am afraid, that will remain trapped.”

Clockwork slapped his hand away, “How comforting, Nocturn. Do you also go to the newly dead and tell them not to weep, at least they were the ones that died and not others?”

Nocturn’s hand returned to pull his hood down over his face and Clockwork had to slap it away again. “It is not in my perogative to comfort the newly dead. I thought only to inform my dearest friend that he had not earned my animosity. A fear he might have had, failing the plan we had painstakingly worked towards for eons.”

“I don’t want to be chained any longer.” Clockwork admitted. It had been so long since he’d had any semblance of freedom. Did he even know what it would feel like anymore?

“We know. Though some, like Misery Vex, believe it karmic, that your attachments, which had led so thoroughly to our defeat, came back in the forms of chains for you alone. But know that if one day it comes to pass that I can free you, unlikely as it may be, I shall make the attempt.” Nocturn stood, leaving Clockwork alone in his tower. 

“Clockwork?” It was Daniel’s voice. It was the first time his young ward had come to visit since the binding. It was not a comfort to hear his voice, to see that he was okay. It was not .

He didn’t acknowledge Daniel when he entered, wouldn’t have let him in the door if he still had complete control of his Lair… But he’d bargained that away long ago in a gamble that had failed him entirely. 

Instead he floated to his screens. Ever since the fall of the Observants, he could see properly at least. Pariah had no interest in obscuring his vision, had even less in controlling what it was he could see. Pariah’s only interest had been binding Clockwork to him so that he might not escape, so that he might not regress, so that he might not lose himself to the chaos of infinity and escape his limited existence.

Clockwork scowled, still ignoring Daniel’s presence, his attempts at conversation. Pariah’s interests should not have mattered. Because Pariah should not have won . Because Pariah had lost before and Clockwork had been so certain that he would again. Because- 

Because Clockwork had made a mistake when he sealed him away. Because Clockwork knew he could not bring himself to end him. Because Clockwork had seen an opportunity to see Pariah again and had known it would be a mistake but had wanted so desperately just to see him again. Wanted to see him free of the haze of anger the ring and crown had obscured him in, but a ghost’s natural state was obsessive. And Pariah had never hid his desire to keep Clockwork as he was, Clockwork had simply brushed it off as words of affection. He should have known better really, Pariah was hardly the type to speak lightly, and had never claimed what he did not mean with his entire core. 

The screen he was watching was boring, most things were now that he had no reason to keep track of the threads, no overarching plan to work towards. It was so simple. A young ghost was trick-or-treating with a watermelon instead of a pumpkin and was turning into a large candy-based monster whenever someone turned them away. 

It was the middle of summer where the ghost was, and Clockwork allowed himself to appreciate the tiny bit of chaos that the ghost was bringing to the small mortal town. Nocturn had told him that not all had been lost, Clockwork may be trapped, but Chaos had been released. 

Just enough. 

He sighed. 

“Why are you here Daniel?” he finally asked.

Daniel straightened up, he’d been rambling, no doubt in an attempt to cajole Clockwork into joining conversation or listening subconsciously. He hadn't been.

He was also carrying a plate of cookies that Clockwork had not seen, because Clockwork had not looked. When would he learn his lesson about that? Why was he always looking too late?

“I wanted to check on you,” Daniel said, setting the plate of cookies down now that he was sure Clockwork had seen them. “Pariah said you were… having a hard time.”

Clockwork scowled, too many things tearing at his chest at once. Damn Pariah, damn him . 

“Having a hard time?” he said with a false calm. “The plans that I made eons ago, plans that had been in work before your mortal realm even knew what time was, were ruined by someone I trusted. Someone I did not think would step so easily between me and my goals. Exactly what kind of time should I be having, chained to my own lair without even the authority to deny entrance to whom I wish?”

There had been a small flinch, Clockwork noticed, when he had mentioned betrayal. But if Daniel felt any guilt he didn’t look it. He raised his head, eyes full of determination. The very same expression Clockwork had seen through his screens so many times, in the fights against the other Ancients. The plans they’d made to make him stronger, to keep him stable, so that when the Chaos had been released he and the Realms with him would survive. 

He had certainly survived. 

“Pariah said this was the only way to save you.” Because of course that was what Pariah had told him. Because Daniel was intelligent, but Daniel was also a child and all too willing to trust any competent adult. A flaw that Clockwork himself had been so quick to take advantage of. A flaw that cursed him now. 

“Do you really believe that Pariah Dark has my best interest at heart?” he would have sneered, if it had been anyone else. If it hadn’t been Daniel, who was practically his own child. Instead, he asked softly, his frustration drowned entirely by exhaustion.

Daniel still answered him though. “You were changing Clockwork,” What? “The same way you told me Pariah had once changed.”

He hadn’t, there was no way it had been so obvious. He hadn’t, it wasn’t as if he had lost himself to his obsession, nor had he gained power that grew out of his control, what was he talking about?

“You were distant, as if you were struggling to stay in any given moment. Sometimes you’d forget everything going on around you, and others you seemed to be somewhere or some-when else entirely. I mean,” Daniel took a breath, “you’ve always been a bit cryptic, but you were losing yourself entirely . Halfway through a conversation you would start talking completely randomly, in languages long dead or unrecognizable. Or you’d start talking about things that had never happened or had happened forever ago.”

He was almost shouting now, his eyes shining with more than just energy and Clockwork felt a sting in his core. He had known that Daniel would disapprove, that he would get angry. But it had not occurred to him that his anger would be pointed towards this rather than his blatant manipulation of Daniel and his friends.

“And your actions! They were reckless, Clockwork!! Releasing Dan? What the hell?! ”

It was Clockwork’s turn to flinch. “Your future self’s release had always been part of the plan. It was why I had you leave him with me to start with. I was not losing myself Daniel, I was revealing who I actually am.”

Daniel made a desperately frustrated noise. “Do you think saying something like that is going to convince me we were wrong, Clockwork? I- I trusted you! I care about you! You’re-”

“So you’d cage me and try to force compliance so that the more unsightly aspects of myself can be filed away? So you can teach me to be better, like some kind of petty human criminal, Daniel?” He let his anger take over instead. It was easier, so much easier. It was what he had always done with Pariah. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “How dramatic,” he said dryly, “Didn’t you do the same thing to Pariah, wasn’t what you did like way worse? You’re throwing a fit just like he said you would.”

“If you trust Pariah Dark so much, why are you even here? Have him make cookies for you. I'm sure he’s fully capable.” Clockwork wasn’t throwing a fit, he was angry. 

Daniel sighed, grabbing one of the cookies he’d brought. They had long gone cold, but it hardly mattered to Clockwork, he wouldn’t be eating them. “Pariah has a lot of faults, and there’s a bunch of things I don’t really like about him. He’s manipulative, methodical. He never lets me half ass anything and he’s really picky. He doesn’t actually care if a person dies or a ghost gets Ended, and we fight about that kind of stuff a lot. But…” he met Clockwork’s eyes, his expression looked hurt, heartbroken. Clockwork didn’t want to see it. Had never wanted to see Daniel like this.

“He’s never outright lied to me. I’ve been checking, ever since… Well. I don’t just trust anyone at their word anymore. So yeah okay, I know he’s manipulating me just like he was manipulating you, but he never lied to either of us about his intentions. He didn’t do what you did.”

Clockwork couldn’t look at him any more. He’d made so many mistakes. If he was truly destined to fail… He should never have revealed his true nature or intentions to the boy. His disappointment burned almost as much as the chain Pariah had placed around Clockwork’s neck.

It didn’t matter though, that Clockwork could not stand to see him, because Daniel flew towards him and grabbed his face gently, hands on either side of his cheeks. 

“I don’t trust you anymore, Clockwork, but I still love you. So does Pariah. We can fix this, okay?” Daniel said and Clockwork’s eyes widened at the threat. 

He had truly lost, hadn’t he?

[bestworstcase]

Not that you have said much about it on your posts before, but there is an idea that eventually, Salem and Oz could possibly get back together. Given what we know of both of these characters, I find that EXTREMELY unlikely. Impossible even. If you propose it IS possible for it to actually happen in the show, or even be implied to happen offscreen by the end, how??? I would imagine there would need to be a whole domino effect of things that would have to happen first, and I haven't the faintest as to what they would be, other than these characters certainly must fundamentally change in some way or another.

two points of clarification before diving in:

1 - all jokes about ozlem being #endgame aside, “reconciliation” (which i expect to happen) isn’t the same thing as “getting back together” (which i think is a small possibility). the depth of betrayal on both ends is so extreme that rebuilding the trust that was broken to the extent that is necessary for a rekindled romantic relationship to even be considered would take a very deliberate effort to fix things well beyond the level of being able to work together against a common enemy—and i’m not sure either of them really *wants* that.

2 - central to my reading of the entire narrative is the idea that salem is, fundamentally, correct in her perception of the gods; that they are indeed monstrous tyrants who must be resisted despite their overwhelming power, and thus ozma’s loyal service to the god of light is his critical moral failure even though he’s right about salem being evil now.

hence: as i see it, the conflict between salem and everyone else is, at its core, an ideological conflict between desperate rebellion against evil on her side and frightened submission to the same on everyone else’s; salem is a well-intentioned extremist doing horrific things for a good reason and everybody else is presently too preoccupied with trying to stop the horrific things salem is doing to consider what it means that they are, in the process, serving the will of a god who wants to obliterate them all. ozma himself is to a significant degree personally responsible for this disconnect between what the conflict is and what everyone except salem thinks it is, because everything his allies know about the gods has been filtered through the lens of his perceptions and his loyalty to the god of light has never really been challenged.

the lost fable, in my view, isn’t a story about ozma getting lured into evil because he trusted salem and she took advantage of that to manipulate him into becoming a pawn in her desire for wanton destruction—ie the standard fanon take. i read it as a story about ozma trying to both be with the woman he loves *and* obey the gods who condemned her to eternal suffering until he is eventually forced, by his own conscience and by salem’s flat refusal to obey her tormentors, to choose, at which point he chooses wrong.

(see also this post)

which is to say, yeah, in order for these characters to reconcile in any way they must first undergo a fundamental change; specifically, ozma needs to renounce his service to the god of light. he needs to correct his original failure of accepting “redeem humanity or be annihilated” as something the gods had a right to demand, and by extension he needs to stop making salem the scapegoat for his inability to fulfill that task; division is an innate and valuable facet of human nature, not an evil embodied by salem that needs to be rooted out and destroyed in order to make humankind worthy of existence.

then—and only then—can the problem of salem’s actions be meaningfully addressed. her “no cost is too great” desperation arises from watching the gods wipe out humanity millions of years ago like it was nothing to them, learning they intended to do it again, and then for thousands of years watching ozma establish religion(s) based on worship of those gods and gather the relics he needed to eventually summon them back for their day of judgment—all while being THE ONLY person on the planet who knew the truth and recognized the gods as the monstrous tyrants and dire threat they really are.

even then, there is i think a lot of evidence that salem is going after the relics with what she considers to be the bare minimum degree of force necessary; the fall of beacon was catastrophic, but afterwards vale was immediately left to rebuild and carry on life as usual even though salem has had agents stationed in the ruins of beacon this whole time. (amity colosseum was also evidently left to just sail back to atlas after the immediate crisis was over.) likewise, not only has mistral been left alone since the lamp was removed, salem planned to TAKE the lamp in a manner that would have been almost entirely bloodless: cinder was to kill the spring maiden and open the vault, lionheart would likely have been assassinated, and then the white fang would have blown up the completely empty campus of haven academy. and then she showed up with a grimm army to lay siege to atlas and did absolutely nothing to attack the utterly defenseless *mantle*—the grimm mantle was dealing with throughout v8 were to all appearances just wild stragglers drawn in by people’s fear, the same as in v7. she’s *not* going out of her way to cause maximum destruction even now (and she’s made consistent if largely unsuccessful efforts to get cinder to stop going for maximum destruction as well.)

which, to me, suggests that if salem were given a chance to pursue her goal of defeating the gods in a less catastrophic way—if, for example, she saw that the ideological argument against the gods isn’t futile, that she can find common ground with the rest of humanity—she would probably take it. she’s never going to change her mind or submit to the gods, but we’ve seen how readily she alters her plans and adjusts her tactics in response to new information or even just recognizing that what she was doing before wasn’t working.

there are also, as i’ve discussed, things happening rn in the dynamic between salem and cinder that seem very likely to end up being catalysts for change in both characters; and the general thrust of my endgame showdown-with-the-gods theory involves a united humanity uno reversing the gods by changing THEIR natures, fixing THEIR brokenness, essentially making them human, likely using silver eyes in some way—which, well. we know salem’s experimenting with combining light and darkness using silver eyes, and she recruited summer fifteen years ago for reasons we still don’t know. she also knows precisely where she went wrong the first time she faced the gods (attacking them head-on with brute force, a battle humanity couldn’t hope to win). in order to have a shot at surviving confrontation with the gods, humans will NEED to turn them against each other—get them focused on their conflict with each other, get them *fighting* to buy time and create the opportunity to change them… and salem a) knows that now, b) understands the psyches of the gods well enough to actually do it, and c) has been honing these exact tactics for thousands of years. meaning, in a confrontation between humanity and the gods, salem would be an INCREDIBLY valuable ally for humanity as a whole, which creates a significant incentive for the heroes to take a chance on trusting her if it comes down to an enemy-of-my-enemy alliance.

its the whole if you can’t beat em make em join you thing but from both sides simultaneously; salem gets everyone to reject the gods, everyone gets salem to join them in an alliance against those gods instead of desperately trying to fight the battle alone, and the gods get either smashed together into their original whole (and by extension humanlike) form or stripped of their divinity and remade into humans themselves

[barad-dur-archivist]

Concerning Sauron’s Physical Form in the Third Age

While some may suggest that Sauron, in the Third Age, lacks a physical body, this rumour is verifiably untrue due to references to his actions in the text— namely the “four-fingered black hand” that tortures Gollum to uncover information about the One Ring.

This begs the question of what sort of physical body Sauron possessed at the end of the Third Age. As his previous fana was destroyed at the end of the War of the Last Alliance in the Second Age, and all others before that had also been destroyed as well, this new one would have needed to be newly-crafted.

As such, due to the unstable nature of Sauron’s spirit, being parted from a great deal of it, almost all that remained of his being would be used to create this new, and last, fana. And even that wouldn’t be enough to create a stable body to house the remnants of his eäla that were not bound up in the One Ring, that he had spent the early Third Age gathering from the corners of the world before first regaining full consciousness almost a thousand years after his defeat.

Between T.A. 1000 and T.A. 2954, while Sauron was strong enough to take a semi-visible form that appeared as a construct of deep shadow, it was not until T.A. 2954 that he had gathered enough of his strength, power, and influence to craft a new fana. After the construction of Barad-dûr is completed, Sauron’s power is restored, as little as it can be without the One Ring, and he is once again able to draw strength from his domain in Mordor. Orodruin, which had lain dormant, erupts for the first time this age, and Sauron crafts his final physical form.

This fana was constructed after the manner of his preferred form from the Years of the Trees onward*, which had been destroyed by Isildur— though it had been far degraded and corrupted by that time. The new fana would be not unlike it in appearance, but smaller, just under man-high rather than its former seven-and-a-half feet, and lacking the color and luminosity that the original fana had possessed before Sauron’s own degrading spirit caused it to fade out. While his former fanar were constructed almost entirely out of flesh and blood (a trait all but unique among the Incarnate Ainur, save for Melian and the Istari), this new one was supplemented by various minerals and metals, elements over which Sauron had greater innate control, in an effort to more effectively use his limited power.

This was not entirely effective, and the result was a poor facsimile of his former preferred fana, smaller and fairly weak, with the tendency to break apart and become damaged easily, though outright destruction would be much more difficult, even should it be cut to pieces it could be put back together. This focus on resilience rather than sturdiness was intentional, and only a small portion of Sauron’s Thought, Resonance, and Song*** was used to create the fana, as, should he be slain again before the recovery of the One, he wished to be able to more easily retain consciousness and rebuild. In addition, he also borrowed from the power he had invested into the One across the weak but increasing link and influence he had over it. This would prove to contribute to his ultimate and complete downfall.

Though the new fana was created in an attempt to replicate the fair form worn by the Lieutenant of Morgoth, and though upon initial creation, should one get past the clawed, soot-black hands and pale, ash-grey skin and hair, with only the faintest remnants of the luminosity of Mairon left, it was not altogether un-beautiful, it proved still to be impossible for Sauron to take a fair form. Not long at all after incarnating into this new fana, the first cracks began to form— thus, injuring him and trapping him within the fana*— and things began to fall apart. Cracks appeared and opened up, pieces of him occasionally falling off, and the index finger of his right hand crumbled to dust and then began to bleed. This fana, unlike others he had crafted, was not made with the ability to bleed as incarnates do, but rather than blood, it seeped a viscous, shimmering, toxic black liquid— a mixture in places, or one or the other, of crude oil and liquid mercury, or at least very near to those things in nature and appearance. This liquid poured forth and dripped from every crack and break in Sauron’s fana, nearly uncontrollable, ever leaving toxic drippings, pools, and puddles around him.

Dismayed at this failure, Sauron quartered himself deep within Barad-dûr, and did not leave. Often, he conjured the Eye** in order to observe his realms, or used his link with the Nazgûl. For all this time, very few were permitted within his presence— the Nazgûl were some, and the Mouth of Sauron, the Lieutenant of Barad-dûr, through whom Sauron had all of his official dealings, aside from those with whom he communicated via the Palantir in his possession. In addition, prisoners were sometimes brought to his chambers for interrogation, but during those times he would don a large cloak not unlike those worn by the Nazgûl, and none of his servants aside from those few completely bent and bound to his will were permitted to lay eyes upon his weakened fana.

In the destruction of the Ring, all of Sauron’s being that was contained within it was broken to shards and scattered to the wind. With this, Mordor, built largely upon the power of the One, crumbled, along with all that stood within that was constructed with the power he had wielded. Despite all of this, had he not drawn upon the power of the One to craft his new fana, the last shards of his being and consciousness might have been preserved and not dashed to pieces, though without all those things poured into the One— chiefly, his Will***, which would have reduced him to an aimless spirit, existing in a state of limbo and depression, but not gone entirely. As it was, though, the link with the now-destroyed One Ring broke apart the energy that his fana was made of, and it too was destroyed.

Having lost both fana and the greater part of his eäla, Sauron’s consciousness was lost entirely, broken so far apart that it was forever unable to be restored by his own will, and would not be restored by the will of others until the end of all things, when he would be reforged once more as Morgoth’s Lieutenant to be at his old master’s side in the Dagor Dagorath, only to be ultimately destroyed and wiped from Arda along with Morgoth.

*see my other notes on fanar and their construction, as well as notes on Mairon’s fanar in particular

**see my notes on the Eye of Sauron and its meanings and nature

***see my notes on the Nature of the Ainur and their components

[robininthelabyrinth]

I am *endlessly* curious about how Wei Wuxian ended up at the Cloud Recess, and very satisfied my internal suspicion that the Lan and the Jiang were busy rebuilding their power/plotting a coup was right. Though I'm now curious about their reaction to 'Meng Yao is being kept around, and as Empress at that'.

spontaneous fic extra for Good Help - ao3 link

-

Good news! one of Nie Huaisang’s letters started, which was never good news. My brother has finally become gainfully employed! He will no longer be a burden on society, a good-for-nothing that does nothing but idle his days away, bringing shame upon our family name.

Wei Wuxian blinked down at the letter. “Jiang Cheng,” he said. “Did I manage to hit my head and wake up in a world where Nie Mingjue is not the Empress?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng said, looking bored. He was officially there on Jin sect business, though everyone politely pretended that he wasn’t very clearly there to see Wei Wuxian or, for those not in the know, sent by his husband, who had virtually no cutsleeve tendencies at all, to get him somewhere that wasn’t Lanling. It was an excuse they used rather a lot to get Jiang Cheng to where he needed to be. “He’s definitely still the Empress. Keep reading.”

Wei Wuxian kept reading.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said a second later. “Someone mistook him for a guard? How?!”

“I mean, it’s not as ridiculous as you might think. No one’s seen him in years,” Jiang Cheng said, finally breaking his mask of boredom in favor of a grin. “He’s always behind all those veils – I’m pretty sure his fashion sense as Empress is ‘how much can I look like the curtain I’m trying to hide behind’.”

“But he’s so –” Wei Wuxian moved his hands around in an attempt to encompass very broad shoulders, a narrow waist, muscles, and also height. “Notable!”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been to court, hasn’t it? He’s always up on that platform far away from everyone else – you know how Wen Ruohan likes to look down on everyone – and everything around him has been resized for him; he looks more proportional that way. And if you didn’t know, and there’s no reason that this Meng Yao fellow would know…”

“Still!”

“No, really, it’s not that strange! You know how Wen Ruohan’s guards of the inner hall are dressed, all fancy Wen sect robes, and that’s all Nie Mingjue has other than his Empress get-up, which obviously isn’t appropriate for when he wants to go outside to train Baxia. He would’ve been wearing the right clothes and walking in the right place, and he is what you’d expect a guard to look like…if you bumped into him at random, as happened here, it’s a reasonable mistake to make.”

“He hired him as his secretary,” Wei Wuxian marveled. “Just – wow. Wow. Mingjue-xiong is going to break him in half, the first time he tries anything.”

“Maybe,” Jiang Cheng said. “Maybe not.”

-

Someone needs to go assassinate this Meng Yao person right away, Nie Huaisang’s next letter – nominally addressed to Lan Wangji this time – said. I think my brother might actually like him. A upstart Jin bastard that worked his way up through the Fire Palace – do you think all these years with Wen Ruohan has rotted da-ge’s sense of taste?

“He doesn’t actually mean that we should assassinate him,” Wei Wuxian told Lan Wangji, who nodded in agreement. “We still need the viceroy to remain in his place as the target. He’s just being dramatic.”

If Nie Huaisang actually wanted Wei Wuxian to assassinate someone, he had other ways of asking.

That was a fair portion of what Wei Wuxian did these days, actually, other than work on his ideas for demonic cultivation and warm Lan Wangji’s bed. Ironically enough, of the three, the last was his actual job: after Wen Chao had his golden core destroyed as punishment for having dared fight back when the Wen sect invaded the Lotus Pier – a temper tantrum at not being allowed to do the same to Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian suspected, since Wen Ruohan had even then already planned to sell the heirs of the Jiang sect to the highest bidder – Lan Wangji had, after quietly rescuing him at Jiang Cheng’s frantic instigation and with Nie Huaisang’s connivance, announced that he was keeping him as a personal pet.  

Wen Ruohan had been pressuring the Lan sect to adopt some vices, simply because he knew it would make them uncomfortable – Lan Qiren had been a particular target – and he’d been satisfied by the notion of one of Lan Qiren’s precious nephews, the Jades of Lan, deciding to keep a whore, even if he’d insisted on having Wei Wuxian inspected to make sure he’d been thoroughly used.

(Proving it had not been a hardship, not when Wei Wuxian had a lover as thorough and tireless as Lan Wangji. Joke’s on you, Wen Ruohan!)

Still, even as Wei Wuxian did (in his opinion) some of his best work on his back and puzzled his way through demonic cultivation as the only possible route for him now – Lan Qiren helped him with some of the musical cultivation bits, and also in arguing to the Lan sect elders that some type of cultivation was better than nothing, and anyway there was a limit to how much trouble he could cause while under close supervision – he had also started up a sideline in taking out their political enemies on account of being the one of them that people would least suspect. No one even remembered his name anymore!

“Maybe we should go to court and check him out,” Wei Wuxian added thoughtfully. “See what he’s like, make sure he’s not leading Nie Mingjue down the wrong path, that sort of thing.”

They could pass along some of Nie Huaisang’s messages, too.

There was that whole coup they were planning, even if it was far less interesting than Nie Mingjue actually making a friend for the first time in over a decade…

“Mm,” Lan Wangji agreed. “Wei Ying has good judgment.”

“I do! If he’s nice – though there’s no chance he’ll be nice, he’s from the Fire Palace – I’ll tell Nie Huaisang that I approve,” Wei Wuxian decided. “If he’s awful, I’ll send a ghost to haunt him until he can’t sleep. If he’s a little awful but seems salvageable, I’ll…I don’t know…I’ll set some dogs on him!”

Lan Wangji’s eyebrows went up.

“You’ll set some dogs on him!”

The eyebrows went down.

“Rude, Lan Zhan. Very rude.”

-

“So having now seen Meng Yao and my da-ge interact with my own two eyes, I’ve decided that they’re going to get married,” Nie Huaisang announced.

“Is that wise?” Wei Wuxian asked, even though he actually thought Meng Yao was pretty cool. He was so good at being nice to people that he disliked, so incredibly efficient, so thoughtful, and best of all only very rarely followed up on the occasional murder-eyes he liked to shoot people when he thought no one was looking; it had actually been the fact that he and Lan Wangji had both vouched for him that had convinced Nie Huaisang to change his plans to account for his brother’s preferences. “Making him the Empress? He’ll be bossing your brother around in no time.”

“He’s already bossing my brother around, and that’s the way my brother likes it,” Nie Huaisang said. “Making Meng Yao the mother of the Empire – above ten thousand, below one – is the ideal way to sate his hunger for power in a way that makes him feel confident that he won’t be so easily replaced the way a viceroy or prime minister would be, and therefore unlikely to betray us. Also, it will make Jin Guangshan have an aneurysm, and that will be hilarious.”

“I like that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Also, didn’t we agree that you were going to be the prime minister?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said patiently. “You are going to be prime minster, and I’m going to be your empty-headed but pretty former Imperial Consort wife.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘former Imperial Consort’ isn’t usually a thing.”

“Yes, well, it’s a coup, we make the rules. It’d be such a shame not to use this nice bureaucracy that Wen Ruohan set up for us…Wei-xiong, what about you?”

“What about me? I’m very happy as Lan Zhan’s whore.”

Jiang Cheng tried to hit him, but Wei Wuxian dodged, cackling. “Maybe I’ll start spending his money on fancy clothing and living it up now that I’m his official mistress,” he said. “I have Wang Lingjiao’s example to look up to, don’t I..?”

“I would like to marry Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji opined, and Wei Wuxian suddenly felt all gooey inside.

“I meant what will we do with him in the government,” Nie Huaisang said, long-suffering. “You’re all useless – though not as useless as me, of course.”

Jiang Cheng pressed a kiss to his cheek. “No one’s as useless as you, my little good-for-nothing.”

“And don’t any of you forget it!” Nie Huasiang exclaimed, then elbowed Jiang Cheng in the ribs. “Don’t touch me, you married man. Get a proper divorce before you try making your way into my bed; what sort of girl do you think I am?”

“You can’t be serious!” Jiang Cheng spluttered. “Jin Zixuan is drawing up the papers right now –”

“I feel like I deserve a proper wedding, don’t you?” Nie Huaisang asked Wei Wuxian, who started laughing. “I didn’t get a proper one the last time around –”

“We’ve been sleeping together for years!”

“We were having a thrilling affair under the nose of an evil tyrannical dictator. Who’s to say that the spark’s still there?”

“Oh you want spark,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’ll give you spark –”

[jasontoddiefor]

AN: Season 2 The Mandalorian finale but Din/Luke.

Yavin was peaceful.

It was peaceful when the thunder roared above like the drums of war, blaster shots against beskar. It was peaceful when the children screamed in delight and not despair. It was peaceful when Din wore his armor despite not needing to fight anywhere but in the sparring ring.

Din had known peace. His childhood, before he had become a foundling, had been flecked with peaceful moments even in the middle of the slaughter that had been the Clone Wars. And later, among his siblings, he had also found moments of joy and rest.

Still, he wasn't quite sure if any of that compared to the calm he found in Yavin's temple. The tranquility was built into the very foundations of this construction. He knew the stories by now, those narrated in old books, datapads, and strange objects called holocrons that he couldn't use himself but had to ask one of the students to open for him. The Jedi and the Mandalorians had been at each other's throat often enough throughout time, Ahsoka's words came to mind, and yet Din found himself wandering their halls, being greeted by the few members of Luke's budding Order as if he were one of them. Maybe it was because the past was so distant, now that both their people knew the pain of having to rebuild from the ground up, from less than nothing.

It was not a pain he wished upon anyone.

The sun had not quite risen yet, tinting the temple's outside in a light golden hue. The building was beautiful, half overgrown as it still was. They had made some efforts to clean it out where the Alliance hadn't done managed to all those years ago. The temple was more of a refugee center, a place to restock, and a New Republic base than it really was a Jedi temple, the number of Force-sensitives low and the number of people Luke was actually teaching even lower.

They would get there someday.

He continued his path, walking further into the jungle, past the greenery, and along a river he had crossed more times than he could count already.

(That was a lie. He knew exactly how often it had been. Twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, stepping into his old footprints.)

The river led him to a wide and open clearing, framed by small flowers in all colors of the rainbow.

They had cleaned it up a little after they had found it, made it more comfortable while ensuring it remained a part of nature. 

Luke had insisted that it was important.

The more you changed the environment, the more you disrupted the flow of the Force, that had been his argument. Din didn't quite know whether to believe him. Luke certainly looked as if he was a Master of that unexplainable power regardless of the environment.

The clearing was empty, which was a surprise for one.

Often, Din would find two or three other students practicing with their Master. All of them had their eyes closed, meditating in whichever way was the most comfortable to them. Luke tended to do handstands of all things and Din knew another girl danced an Alderani ballet she was desperate to pass on to another person.

Right now, Luke was sitting in the middle of the clearing, legs crossed and moving a few stones in a slow circle around him. A few more stones gently floated in the wind in a smaller orbit, carried not by Luke, but by the child on his lap. It fascinated Din that Grogu, despite being the mentally youngest trainee, was the one who was actually working with Luke. When he wasn't with Din, he attached himself to his teacher. A couple of the other kids did, at times, fall asleep next to their Master. Passed out with their heads on his lap, or leaning against him in some other way, drooling.

Gently, Luke and Grogu set the stones to the floor, then opened their eyes.

When they had first met, Din had been too preoccupied with everything surrounding him, the darksaber, which was still clipped to his belt, Moff Gideon, saving his son— he hadn't been able to pay too much attention to Luke Skywalker.

He had taken notice of his strength, of his kindness.

Not of his deep blue eyes, or his smile.

"Come to get us for breakfast?" Luke asked and picked up Grogu as he slowly rose to his feet.

He walked over to Din, ease in his steps that would fade as the day continued on, and only returned when he repeated his ritual.

"As always."

Luke smiled at him and, once he was at Din's side, gently put his forehead to Din's. They remained just so for a moment, then they fell into a comfortable silence, returning home.

Home, what a strange expression. Home had been his ship until he lost it. Before that, it had been the dorms he had shared with the other children, and before even that, it had been his parents' arms. Now it was a temple full of people trying to figure out who they were and who they wanted to be.

He wondered, briefly, what he would have done if he hadn't gone with Luke. If he had hesitated to ask, decided he could leave his son with another. Despite his worries, his love for his child, he had never, not even for one second, expected Luke to take Grogu away. Not without Din's permission, not without the child's own, and even after, when Luke had flown them here, he hadn't thought that he might overstay his welcome someday.

Perhaps that was the reason why he didn't want to leave, why he struggled so with the decision he had to make.

Life here wasn't comfortable, soft, but it was happy and bright, and despite their struggles, Din could feel himself relaxing more and more. He didn't miss the tension in his muscles, the constant anticipation that followed his previous lifestyle.

He was a Mandalorian.

Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language, our leader.

His creed was calling him and Din had to obey it to the best of his abilities. He was following its tenets, took care and protected his own and yet—

The blade at his side burned with the heat of a thousand suns and Din knew his responsibility, but he did not want to follow it. Could not follow it without getting permission first, so that he knew in his heart that he need not fear.

"What is troubling you?"

Luke and Grogu were both looking at him, heads tilted ever so slightly in the manner that Din had come to associate with Force-sensitive people. There was just an edge of sharpness to all their movements, all their words. Like they were seeing and feeling more than everyone else and were so connected to the galaxy that they were not stumbling blindly, wondering what everyone else was thinking and doing.

"I still carry the darksaber," Din said, slowly, deliberately.

Luke hummed in reply. "I know. Leia has sent me a few very urgent messages regarding the state of Mandalore."

Din snorted. Of course, she had. Leia Organa was a force onto herself. While most people were quite happy to leave Din alone here and not bother him about outside responsibilities, she was decidedly not. He feared the day she would meet the Armorer.

Leia called him a coward to his face, but what else to expect of the woman who carried the title of princess as if it were a weapon of destruction.

"I am thinking of leaving. Just for a short while to try to settle the manner."

Din already knew there would be nothing short about it. Mandalore had lain in ruins when he had been only a child. There was no quick or easy solution to its state.

"If you do, we will be here, waiting for you to return," Luke replied. Grogu cooed, reached out for Din, and was quickly transferred into his arms where he could place one of his hands on Din's helmet.

"And if I don't?"

Luke shot him a look, bemusement and fondness all in one. "I suppose then we will have to come to follow you. I crossed half the galaxy for you once, I can do it again."

Alright.

Okay.

Din let out a breath he hadn't noticed holding. All would be well then.

[phoenixyfriend]

I’ve been trying to figure out the best obi wan ship. They all have one slightly problematic thing this way or that. I’ve landed on the idea of obi wan and an equal is pretty top tier. But then I saw a picture of Coran from voltron. Coran and Obiwan might be a disaster but also both are dad shaped, both are bad ass, both are ginger, both have an accent. I think it could work. But another part of me is like Coran is just obi and jarjar mashed together. At the very least they hooked up.

Hey I just had restaurant ramen and Starbucks and actually feel like a human being so let's do something unnecessary but funny. I'm taking this as a challenge, anon.

Also IMO Coran has more in common with C3P0 than with JarJar

So obviously, both of these happen in Big Space, but the difference appears to be density. We see about the same complexity of culture and species interactions, but Voltron covers more galaxies. It's vaguely implied that Earth, at least, is the only planet with sapient life in the Milky Way.

I think the way I want to play this out, culturally, is that the Voltron area of the universe covers a much wider, but much more sparsely populated area, while the SW-verse is just the one very densely populated (in part because apparently humans just went Literally Everywhere) galaxy, where they didn't necessarily bother with developing the tech to go to other galaxies (except Rishi, which only sort of counts) because they haven't really even charted out their own yet. It was never contacted by the Voltron side of things because [checks notecards full of excuses] it's really far away from Altea and all that, and the Force shielded the galaxy from Galra interests because Reasons.

All this to say that the two franchises didn't interact until after the Voltron plotline was already over. We'll say it went mostly canon, except Allura survived because uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck that.

We'll say that this is mid-TCW, you know, before Obi-Wan is a bundle of repressed traumas and bad coping mechanisms that's lost almost everyone he's ever loved to the dark side through death or corruption. He's still (mostly) okay! Anakin's not dark (or at least, not as dark as he could be; Obi-Wan doesn't know about the Tuskens), and Ahsoka's still in good standing and most people are alive and--and okay the army is a massive ethical violation he hates with his very soul and he misses Qui-Gon and Anakin's keeping secrets and pulling away from him every day but He's Fine, Guys.

He's Fine.

In comes a ship from not Wild Space, but beyond that. Intergalactic visitors, from the direction of the deeply concerning Force bullshit they felt a few years ago. Translation tech is decent enough on both sides that they get to talking pretty quickly. The explorer is actually a member of the Blade of Marmora, who gets the absolute most basic info (approximately this many inhabited planets, approximately this many trillions of sapients in the recorded galaxy, basic structure of the government for the past however many years, most recent conflict, etc.)

BoM person is like "cool, okay so you guys are really well set-up so I'm just gonna head back and kick this up a few rungs of the coalition ladder because this is way above my paygrade, I'll make sure you get some diplomats who can maybe help out with the whole galactic civil war situation as neutral parties."

The Voltron Coalition does send a diplomat! They, uh, also send Coran, who isn't technically a diplomat, but he's high-level.

The thing is, okay, that Coran is mostly just... passably competent at things. He's a jack of all trades, master of none type. He knows a lot of things, actually, but his practical knowledge in high pressure situations tends to be up in the air. He knows how to fix the Castle Ship and various technologies, but all of that info is ten thousand years out of date. He was a competent fighter at one point but these days his back gives out. He's very knowledgeable regarding intergalactic politics but, again, that information is ten thousand years out of date. He's also a little prone to social gaffs in dicey situations (e.g. the inciting incident in the Voltron Show episode where he misses the single day with clear skies), but puts in so much goddamn effort to make things happen.

In this manner, he's like a warped mirror of what Obi-Wan is and could be.

THAT SAID

Coran is actually really good with teenagers, and specifically with training them.

And Obi-Wan... isn't.

Obi-Wan's snarky and snippy and sassy, and he's decent enough at teaching and he's great at being a jokey friend and all, but he's not necessarily very good at emotions. And unfortunately for Obi-Wan, the teenagers he spends the most time with are Really Full Of Emotions. He tries, bless him, but he's just... he doesn't respond well to emotional conversations at the best of times.

His son-figure saying "You're like a father to me" leads to a response of... radio silence. Guys. That's not the mark of a man who knows how to talk about his feelings with the people he cares about.

In swans Coran with the various other diplomatic envoys of the visiting extragalactic community. The entire situation is really leading to a lull in the war because nobody wants to risk pissing off this clearly well-funded, well-powered third party. As a result, many of the High Generals can interact with the envoys, even if they spend quite a bit of time eyeing the Separatist representatives on the other side of the room, because clearly Everyone Needs A Seat At This Table.

It's a very tense situation.

Obviously, Coran is exactly the weird uncle that goes around telling plausibly-exaggerated stories about Weblums and Yalmors and Balmeras. I'm going to say at least one former Paladin is there, maybe Hunk. Hunk's fun, and also very willing to help Coran make friends and seem Amicable instead of Distant by correcting some of the exaggerations. There's a nice, calm atmosphere in a bubble around Coran and his nonsense, and it's a weird situation but arguably just... you know. It's good. He's good at making people feel safe around him.

Cue the hissed argument between Skywalker and Kenobi. The actual cause of said argument isn't important, just the fact that, in a dark corner where they're less likely to cause a PR issue, Anakin and Obi-Wan are having it out. Anakin's maybe twenty, still a lanky ragebaby, all that fun stuff. Obi-Wan is a the endpoint of every too-young brotherdad. He's thirty-six but feels like he's sixty-three. He's tired, but trying so damn hard to still connect with Anakin and just--just--

Obi-Wan gives himself a few minutes to calm down before following Anakin. He doesn't even remember what they were arguing about, really, but he has to mend the bridge before it frays even more than it already has. If Anakin goes to Palpatine for advice again, he's going to... do something. Obi-Wan isn't sure what, but he just has to fix this.

What he finds is... well, Anakin did end up going to vent to a man of an earlier generation who acts like a slightly eccentric older relative, but it's not Palpatine for once.

The goofy, slightly abrasive but mostly charming, brightly-colored representative of the Voltron Coalition is standing in the little balcony that Anakin's made it to, listening as Obi-Wan's recently-knighted padawan vents. The man nods and makes noises at the appropriate times, and then asks questions that are... maybe a little too accurate.

"You said that you view him as a father, that he raised you after you left your mother."

"Well, yeah, but he doesn't think I'm ready, or--"

"No parent ever does."

"...my mom thought I was ready to become a Jedi."

"I can't speak for your mother," the representative says, "but the princess of my people, Allura... I half-raised that girl from the beginning, and after the destruction of Altea, we were all the other had left. I watched her lead battles and bring life to planets, trying to rebuild a universe out of the ashes of what we'd left behind... I saw the evidence with my own eyes, and I still, every time, I worried for her."

"Why?"

"I worried that she'd be hurt, that she wasn't ready, that she'd make a decision she regretted. Often, she did, and I had to help her back up, and while she's always come back, stronger than before... she is the closest thing I have ever had to a daughter, and I will always worry for her. Every parent does. Do you think, perhaps, that your own Jedi Master, that you consider a father, may worry because he looks at you like a son? That it's not that he doesn't trust you, but that he doesn't trust the world around you?"

Obi-Wan feels his heart in his throat.

The conversation continues in that vein. While Obi-Wan can't say he likes the fact that this stranger is putting words in his mouth, if only as hypotheticals, he can't deny that there's a part of him that relaxes as Anakin does, as every frustrated fresh-knight question gets a measured elderly-steward response that's angled to consider the interpretation that favors Anakin and Obi-Wan in equal measure. Every word encourages Anakin to talk things out and lay boundaries and express his frustrations to Obi-Wan in the plainest words possible.

There's a story in there, more than one. The representative tends to go off on tangents, ones that Anakin sometimes finds interesting and sometimes just resigns himself to. Mostly, though, it goes well, and Obi-Wan... well, he's always been 'a nosy little bastard,' according to quite a few people.

(In his defense, the terms they'd used about Quinlan's 'investigative personality' had been quite a bit stronger.)

He eavesdrops to the end, and Anakin doesn't notice at all. Obi-Wan's not sure if he should try to address Anakin's lack of awareness of the world around him. He's not technically Anakin's master anymore. The comment may be taken as a criticism of his worth and capability, rather than a sincere desire to see his padawan not die.

He approaches the representative instead. He intends to introduce himself. Instead, the first words that tumble out of his mouth are:

"How do you do it?"

The man--older than he looks from a distance, more wrinkles than the bright hair would suggest, but not quite elderly yet--turns and lifts a brow. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry, I'm--" Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The young man you were just talking to is my former padawan, er, my former apprentice. I've been finding it harder and harder to speak with him over the past few years, and it seems that every interaction we have leads to an argument. How do you... manage that? I can't get him to listen to me at all."

"Ah, teenagers," the man sighs.

"He's twenty."

The representative pauses, and turns to him. "Are you the one he says raised him? The father?"

"Well... yes, I suppose that's one way to phrase it," Obi-Wan says, eyes darting to the side. He doesn't know how to explain the whole attachment situation to someone who barely knows what a Jedi is. He has even less of an idea of how to explain his own broken ability to speak of emotion, the parts of his mind that Bant clucks over and attributes to his own complicated relationship with Qui-Gon. "I had custody as his primary guardian from ages nine to nineteen and was the primary individual for handling his schooling, health, and general upbringing."

"That sounds to me like a very convoluted way of saying you were his father in all but name."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "I'm not exactly old enough to be his father, and I wasn't exactly the person he was supposed to learn from; I was the... back-up option."

"It seems he cares for you very much."

"He didn't have much of a choice," Obi-Wan says, with the kind of helpless smile and awkward shrug he's long gotten used to sharing with people when they ask. "And I assure you he'd have been happier with the man that was meant to teach him."

"I'd say that the 'would have' in this situation is much less important than what is," the representative says. Obi-Wan probably should have paid more attention to his name. "I wasn't in a position to define my relation to Allura or her father in the way that truly suited our situation, by... oh, tradition, social norms, public relations, take your pick. I was a very well-regarded official, of course, but I wasn't royalty, not even nobility, and I certainly wasn't wasn't legally or publicly part of the family. But for all the limitations there, I was still able to find ways to tell her and her family what they meant to me, and they in return. Your apprentice cares for you very much, and I'm sure you care back, but I'd hazard quite the guess that you've no idea how to tell him that."

"I... I shouldn't," Obi-Wan says. "I'm fond of him, of course, but I've no wish to smother him, and to simply say it would be undignified. I imagine he'd laugh in my face."

The representative raises one eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

"Master Kenobi," he says carefully. "Might I suggest you go find your young man, tell him you love him, and perhaps give him a hug?"

Obi-Wan's face flares red. It's been years since anyone short of Yoda has spoken to him like that.

"I'm not a child," he sniffs, trying to angle enough away that the blush isn't as noticeable. He's damnably prone to such things. "You're not that much older than me."

The man laughs, and Obi-Wan lifts his glass to his lips in a futile attempt to hid the embarrassment a little more. "Oh, not counting the stasis, I've well reached the age of six hundred and twenty-four, my boy!"

Obi-Wan chokes on his drink.

The man laughs a little more, but thumps him on the back until he's breathing normally again.

"Yes, most of the humans I've told have had quite the reaction!" the representative assures him. "But yes, even with the times adjusted to what any given local year is, I am significantly longer-lived than most species."

"No kidding," Obi-Wan manages. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and looks over at the representative. He takes in the wrinkles and bright eyes, and says, "Well, I must say you look very well for a near-human of such an age. I can only name one person in that category that has managed better, and I haven't seen her since I was a child."

"I shall take that as the compliment it's intended to be," the representative says, twisting the edge of his mustache and beaming.

The man is... well, goofy, really, and quite a bit older than Obi-Wan had thought, but he's quite the charmer. Obi-Wan faintly compares him to a few different people in the back of his mind, but nothing quite fits. For all that the man is quite the jokester and--going by some things he'd seen from the corner of his eye in the main party--a master of physical comedy, the representative is actually more competent than he looks, and for all his visible age, not bad to look at. He is also, seemingly, an expert in dealing with teenagers and young adults, something Obi-Wan himself is... decidedly not.

He really should go speak with Anakin.

And there's a war to fight.

He doesn't really have much time, even with the recent lull.

He's in no place to be looking at the clean-shaven jaw and wondering what it would feel like under his lips, or to let himself consider whether this man would be the kind to have an hours-long discussion as to the narrative forms common in other galaxies, and whether they have anything paralleled to those in Obi-Wan's own, or if this man would show the same enthusiasm over teas that he'd shown over the hors d'oeuvres inside.

He should... really go find Anakin.

"I suppose it's time to find my padawan," he says, more to fill the air than anything. "Er... thank you, both for speaking with him, and for speaking with me."

"Not a problem at all, Master Kenobi!" the representative says, and Obi-Wan realizes that there's one last thing he may have... forgotten.

"This is terribly embarrassing, but I don't believe I caught your name?" Obi-Wan says.

"Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, at your service!" the man says, with a sweeping bow. "As you can imagine, most simply call me Coran."

"Then I insist you call me Obi-Wan," he says, and before he can stop himself, "Might I bother you with an invitation to a shared tea time? You seem a knowledgeable fellow, and I'd appreciate the chance to... eh, pick your brain, shall we say."

It's not the smoothest come on he's ever put out there, or the most easily interpreted, but... well. Perhaps it's for the best. He's rather often found his tastes going in irresponsible directions, and it'll be much easier to brush this off without diplomatic incident if there's room for Coran to politely ignore the less platonic options.

Obi-Wan hopes he doesn't.

It's very selfish of him, but a dalliance with an older gentleman... well. He does, perhaps, make such irresponsible decisions, even now.

"I do believe I'd enjoy such a thing!" Coran enthuses, grabbing Obi-Wan's hand and shaking it in large, effusive movements.

Oh, this is a terrible idea, Obi-Wan thinks, even as he exchanges comm numbers and says goodbye.

Still.

He likes the idea of having at least a little fun, sedate or less so, while they have some time to themselves.

[butwhatifidothis]

I have thought it would have been a hella better game if Sothis had been the protagonist too! Here’s how I imagine it would be like:

Byleth is the actual reincarnation of Sothis and the child-Sothis we see at the start of the game is actually her subconsciousness. Sothis/Byleth is still the emotionless mercenary with no social skills when the game starts, but she does become more and more emotional and expressive as she begins interacting with specifically Rhea, Flayn and Seteth, her old family. They do form a bond with the lords and the students though (I think the dynamic in AM as a close friend is nice) and most of Byleth’s thoughts are shown through child-Sothis’ commentary.

They can still have the “protagonist being ignorant about Fodlan” thing going on, but with a little twist that it is actually because Sothis keeps confusing the old Fodlan of her era with modern Fodlan and gets blinding headache all the time but actually that is her getting flashbacks. Because of this Jeralt took them away to Morfis (which didn’t exist in her time yet) and they only returned recently after being hired by Rodrigue who had them take care of some bandits in the Kingdom (that is why she has heard of the Tragedy but doesn’t know the details of it).

For example, when she leads the class to the Red Canyon, she mistakenly thinks it is a big, prosperous city that is supposed to be the capital of Fodlan and the lords and Rhea have to explain to her the legend of Zanado. Then she faints and gets a flashback of a beautiful city called Zanado with many humans and dragons living together in peace and unimaginably sophisticated technology located in the exact same valley. She confuses a lot of places with old Fodlan too. To her, Arianrhod is still a small fishing village, Fhirdiad is a food paradise and tourist’s attraction, Goneril is the capital of Agartha, a neighbouring belligerent nation, Enbarr is an ordinary small town where she landed when she first crashed into Fodlan, the Valley of Torment is a fertile valley with a large population focused on agriculture, the Church of Seiros is supposed to be called the Church of Sothis instead and she doesn’t know what the knights are because such concepts did not exist in her time nor Morfis, etc.

Of course, because she often gets so confused by the current Fodlan, the lords and Rhea still have a lot of explaining to do every time they have to travel somewhere like they do in the game. Claude becomes very suspicious of her too.

When she gets attacked by Solon, child-Sothis merges with Sothis, now reincarnated as Byleth, and regains her memories and power as the goddess and from now on her emotions and stuff are back. Then a cutscene showing Sothis’ memory of how and why she came to Fodlan as an alien, how she created the Nabateans and passed her knowledge to the humans in Fodlan, how Fodlan thrived as a nation of Nabateans and humans living together, how Agartha rose as a highly technologically advanced belligerent neighbouring country in the east and how Fodlan and Agartha fought in a war that devastated the entire world so much that she spent centuries healing it until it finally began prospering again and she went to sleep. In her memory we are also shown that the Nabateans all had symbols like the current crests of the 12 Elites and we are misled into thinking those with the crests are the descendants of the Nabateans. The cutscene then ends abruptly when Sothis is jolted from her sleep and the last thing she sees is a wicked man (Nemesis) raising an axe on her and a young girl’s screams that she knows it’s her daughter Seiros.

She is very confused right now because apparently the world she knew is just completely forgotten by the people, and apparently five of her children founded an empire called Adrestia with a human an entire thousand years ago. She knows they can live longer than 1000years and realises they must still be alive now and wants to find them. She also doesn’t know how she died too and is rather panicked that she will be killed again if word gets out she is Sothis. Ah, and she is very curious of the true identities of the 12 Elites as their first names were not recorded and shared the same crests with some of her children. Sothis worries if they were her children who adopted a different surname because that would mean her children fought amongst each other and may be they destroyed each other to the point that Fodlan was in such a ruin that no one remembers the old Fodlan now.

After this cutscene showing the old Fodlan under Sothis’ guidance ends, Byleth who has now remembered her life as Sothis and regained her full power, wakes to Rhea singing a lullaby very popular in old Fodlan so Sothis thinks Rhea may know something about the old Fodlan, but she is paranoid because she thinks there are parts of her memory missing and does not know for sure if Rhea is trustworthy. As a result, she doesn’t immediately tell Rhea she is Sothis and Rhea is not aware that her mother has already come back.

Rhea suggests having Sothis sit on the Holy Throne to jolt her memory and she accepts, hoping to remember what happened to her after the man with the axe showed up. However, before she can sit on the actual throne, Edelgard comes in with her soldiers and battle begins. Then the Imperial army attacks the Monastery before Sothis gets a chance to investigate and talk to Rhea/Seteth/Flayn. Sothis is completely stunned when Rhea turns into a dragon to protect the people because she finally realises Rhea is Seiros all along. She goes back immediately to protect Seiros when she is in danger but gets hit by Thales’ magic energy balls and falls down the cliff. She manages to tell Seiros she is Sothis before falling down the cliff though.

From this point, the route differs into the three non-CF routes.

SS will be a more personal story about Sothis trying to recover her memory and finding out what happened to her family. Sothis will also slowly realise Seteth and Flayn are her family and Macuil and Indech will also join them on this route to help rescue their little sister. Unfortunately, none of them can tell Sothis what exactly happened on the day of the Red Canyon Tragedy because Seiros was the only survivor and the four of them weren’t present in Zanado at the time. They can only tell Sothis that the five of them banded together with Wilhelm, a human and later Seiros’ husband and fought with Nemesis and his 12 Elites who tried to conquer the southern half of the continent and subjugate them to his tyranny. They can confirm the 12 elites were not their siblings and just magically got the crests of their family via unknown means. In the end Sothis rescues her daughter and storms Shambhala. The family are happily reunited and strive to rebuild Fodlan together after Rhea explains what she did to Sothis in her infant state.

VW will be a story about Sothis and Claude learning about what happened to old Fodlan and Agartha. Claude notices that Sothis has been reading up on the founding of the empire/church and the legends about the 12 Elites/saints too. He suggests they team up because he is also doing the same thing. Sothis tells him about the truth of her identity, her missing memory and the old Fodlan she remembers. This clarifies things up for Claude so Claude actually opens up to Sothis and begins trusting her as a friend and the rest follows canon. Rhea will explain what happened in the Tragedy and the fates of their family. Sothis and Claude take down Nemesis to avenge herself and her family. They also learn that Agartha is why Almyra and Fodlan fight all the time.

AM will still focus on Dimitri and the Kingdom but this is how I would frame the story: Sothis thinks the Kingdom nobles descended from the 12 Elites are the descendants of the Nabateans and may know something about her children and what happened to them. Sothis asks Dimitri if he has heard of the Nabateans. Dimitri doesn’t know anything but promises he will help Sothis investigate into this. Everything follows canon until Cornelia’s death, who not only taunts Dimitri about his stepmother but also mocks Byleth that she is assisting the descendants of the 12 elites who slaughtered her entire family 1000 years ago in a war against the descendants of her own children. Sothis in the end comes to term with the possibility that Dimitri’s ancestors might have killed her and her family and continues to support Dimitri as she believes he will make a good king while Edelgard is currently a terrible ruler who has caused the suffering of thousands of people.

CF, on the other hand, will be a much darker story. After Sothis wakes up to Rhea singing to her, she gets to choose between “ask Rhea” and “ask Edelgard” about the saints and the elites. If “ask Edelgard” is chosen, Edelgard will ask why and you can choose “tell Edelgard the truth”. She will lie and convince Sothis into helping her by telling her that Seiros and the four faints did a major cover-up and they were the ones who killed sothis and turned their blades against the rest of their siblings for power. The man Sothis saw in her memory was a bandit hired by the five saints to kill sothis and the other children, known as the 12 elites now, banded together to resist Seiros around a heroic mortal that is Nemesis. When they lost, Seiros hunted down the 12 elites, crafted weapons from their bones and gave their blood to her own allies. The church then lied to the people again that the 12 elites were helping her because one of the five saints didn’t want people to remember their siblings as villains forever. Her own ancestor wilhelm helped Seiros in her unjust war for power and she intends to make things right now and asks if Sothis wants to be a part of that. If Sothis refuses her offer and expresses her scepticism of Edelgard’s claims, the game will immediately end because Edelgard will kill her.

If chooses “yes” then you enter the CF route. Edelgard tells Sothis she intends to declare war on the church to take down Rhea and take back the lands occupied by the evil descendants of the people who slaughtered Sothis’ children, aka Faerghus and Leicester. Edelgard, however, tells Sothis she intends to capture Rhea so Sothis will be able to ask Rhea the same questions to prove her claim. They do not return to the Monastery for the Holy Throne ritual and the coronation scene and war declaration scene play instead. When Sothis returns to the Monastery, she is with the Imperial army intended to conquer the Monastery. Sothis confronts an infuriated Rhea, who is extremely mad about her betrayal, and asks why Rhea/Seiros sent the assassin on her and killed her siblings. Seiros quickly realises Byleth/Sothis is in fact the reincarnation of her mother, but Edelgard notices that and has Thales attack Sothis from behind to prevent Seiros from telling Sothis the truth and swaying her to their side. Sothis falls off the cliff and Seiros tries to kill Edelgard for turning her mother against her and killing her again before she retreats to the Kingdom.

Five years later, Sothis wakes up and rejoins Edelgard’s army only to find out the Empire is on the brink of collapse against the combined might of the Kingdom-Church-Alliance with only Garreg Mach, Gronder, Fort Merceus and Enbarr left in their control. Not all of the Black Eagle students are fighting on their side either - Ferdinand, Dorothea, Petra and Caspar have abandoned the Empire and are fighting for the Kingdom-Church-Alliance army while Linhardt and Bernadetta simply refused to join the war. Instead, Ladislava, Fleche, Randolph, Count Bergliez, Arundel and Jeritza have become your new units.

Sothis continues to help Edelgard in the war and they quickly reclaim the territories lost to the allied powers. As they continue to push forward, Sothis encounters Seteth and the other three saints too (Indech and Macuil joined Rhea after learning of what Edelgard did to Sothis) on the battlefield. They will try to tell Sothis the truth and you have an option between “question Edelgard’s claims and spare them” and “believe in Edelgard’s words and kill them”. If the former is chosen, the game will end immediately as Edelgard will backstab Sothis instantly if she knows Sothis has turned against her. The rest follows canon, but Seiros will try to tell Sothis the truth again on Tailtean. Sothis will be killed if she believes Seiros instead of Edelgard here too. Heartbroken and traumatised by the fact that her mother has killed all of her only remaining family members and has already tried to kill her twice and is about to come and kill her again, Seiros transforms into a dragon in Fhirdiad and sets the city to fire once the citizens have been evacuated, hoping to bring down all of her enemies including her mother with the fire in order to avenge her friends and family.

In the end, Sothis kills Seiros as canon but loses her power and immortality as a goddess because it was Seiros’ magic that kept the creststone alive, and without the protection magic on the stone it would just be an ordinary stone and couldn’t function as a heart. Sothis almost dies without a working heart but the Agarthans save her by a heart replacement surgery on her using Seiros’ heart on the condition that she will give them the Crest of Flames creststone and the sword and share her blood with them regularly. Everything else continues as canon and the route can end with a realistic dark ending (everything crashes and burns) or a fake happy ending (the one in the game).

YOOOO dude this is great! Byleth as a character is so uninteresting, at least to me, because the only actually interesting thing about them is something that was done to them, not something they did. Byleth was born without a heart and was given the heart of a long-dead Goddess to let them live - neat! Intriguing! But nothing else catches your eye like that about them. They live on as a mercenary who apparently only wanted to ever ask questions about anything ever at all once they get to the monastery. The biggest thing they’ve done is make a name for themselves for how well they fight in battle. 

Now, we pivot the idea of Sothis being the protagonist, that’s where things start getting interesting. She fell from the stars and created new life? She helped humans prosper in knowledge only to have that knowledge be used for evil? She healed all of Fodlan from the devastation caused by the war humans enacted and fell into a sleep because of it? Those are all things she does that are worth getting to know more about. Her being murdered during her rest by another greedy human and was reduced to nothing but a dormant consciousness for a thousand years being coupled with the “being given the heart of a long-dead Goddess” being what was done to her isn’t the only interesting thing about them anymore. That’s all stuff that offers so much to the player to want to delve into, especially with a character who is gradually more and more vocal about their want to learn about themselves, with thoughts and feelings about what happened to them, what happened to their family, what they did in the past they can’t remember. 

I especially like all the ways you can just get a game over in CF - in a way that reminds me of that one mission in Sacred Stones where if you beat the boss you get an insta-game over since he was your only way to progress the story lmao, except this is turnt up to 11, and instead of punishing you for being a dingus and fucking up the plot, in a way it’s trying to save you from becoming a kin-killing pawn to a tyrant.

About the only thing I might have a bit of a ehhh with is Agartha being why Almyra and Fodlan feud, just because I find them feuding due to themselves and not a third party to be more interesting to me (personally! That’s just for me lol, it’s not an inherently bad notion!), but thanks you so much for sending this!! 

[bleachluna]

Letters

Ended up skipping day 2 of @hitsukarinweek as I had no ideas for it but here’s my fic for day 3! Also on AO3

Dear Toshiro,

Can you please explain to me how the hell Soul Society managed to copy mobile phones from humans, and even put hollow tracking technology in them, but didn't make them able to send stuff across realms? I know you explained that SS phones in soul society can only contact those in soul society, and when they're here in the human world they can only contact those here, but I only realised how ridiculously stupid that is until after you left. What if there's an emergency and you need to contact someone across realms for whatever reason? Surely you need to get this fixed, I cannot believe if I want to talk to you I'm stuck writing letters like it's the 1800s. I'm even writing more formally than I expected, apparently letter writing brings it out of me and I absolutely hate it. You've gotta fix it. Not to mention I'm not a fan of leaving letters for Urahara to pass on for me, I'm not totally convinced he won't read them.

Anyway, it's been a couple of months since I saw you last. That's probably a good thing, that a captain hasn't been needed here, but I'll admit I wonder about you sometimes, I hope everything is ok on your end! I don't know what it was about turning sixteen but all of a sudden all of this stuff about trying to figure out careers is on me constantly. Yuzu figured out years ago that she wanted to go into healthcare, she took to it way back when we were kids. She was originally planning to go into nursing but her grades have improved a lot recently, she might be a doctor instead, but she's also thinking about midwifery. So there's stuff she's gotta figure out for sure, but at least she knows what area she wants to go into? I don't even have that. I mean how do you figure out what to do with the rest of your life when you're sixteen? I haven't even figured myself out yet. How did you decide to become a shinigami?

Other than that though things are ok. School is a little stressful because grades suddenly feel so much more important, but the work's manageable at least. Hollow level seems to be stable at the minute too which is great, one less thing to worry about! And Urahara improved his reiatsu blocking bracelet thing, I've had this one for almost four months and it hasn't broken so even less chance of getting eaten! Always a plus. But anyway, I hope things are good on your end as well, and that you aren't buried up to your ears in paperwork. Let me know if you ever have any plans to pop up in the human world!

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I sent this on the 22nd of June, let me know when this gets to you/when you send yours, I wanna know what sort of delivery time we're looking at here.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I don't even remotely have the skills or know-how to fix something like that, that's what the Research & Development Team is for. I agree it's a little daft that our mobile phones can't send things across realms, but I'm sure said team knows this and is likely working on it, as you said, it would be unfortunate in an emergency situation. Plus I know Urahara can be a little eccentric, but do you really think he'd read the letters? I'm sure it's fine.

It is a good thing I've not been needed, the last thing Karakura needs is more trouble and destruction. Have they managed to rebuild that major bridge you were talking about yet? Everything is alright here, or at least in my division anyway. I've been kept busy recently, a set of students graduated from the academy last month so I've had 18 new recruits to introduce to squad 10. As for the careers stuff, I honestly assumed from the work you did here and there for the clinic that you were interested in healthcare as well, I take it that's not actually the case then? Do you at least have rough ideas of the sort of thing you'd want to go into? I'm not sure I'll be much help in that respect, I can't wrap my head around half of the jobs that seem to exist in the human world. In some ways I had it easier, the choice was out of my hands. My reiatsu was getting stronger and Hyorinmaru came to me before I even knew what was happening, I needed to go to the academy to make sure my reiatsu didn't become dangerous, therefore I became a shinigami. I never had to wonder what to do with myself in terms of employment.

I'm glad to hear things are going well with you, I'm certainly glad to hear you don't have to worry as much about the bracelet breaking. Is your reiatsu still increasing? If it's stabilising that might be part of why this new bracelet is managing better. I know you're not particularly interested in getting involved with shinigami stuff, which frankly I agree with, but if your reiatsu is still increasing I do think it's worth training you to hide it properly. I am unfortunately always at least a little buried in paperwork, particularly recently with the new recruits, but it's manageable. I don't think I'll be in the human world soon, but I will let you know if I plan to.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 2nd of July, I should be handing this letter over to be sent on the 4th, schedule permitting.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Well I hope you make sure that the research team are working on it, because this really is ridiculous. And you're kidding right? I trust Urahara about as far as I can throw him, which is probably all of three feet.

The bridge is still being rebuilt, but I think they're in the last stages now thank god. All the diversions needed really messed with the traffic, maybe I can finally stop leaving the house half an hour earlier just to get to my soccer club. It's supposed to be twenty minutes max by bus and it's been taking easily twice that. Let me know if you find out which shinigami it was that released their zanpakuto on that bridge, I have some choice words for them.

An entire class of students graduated and you only got 18 newbies at the tenth? Was it a small class or is that the normal kind of numbers you see? I assumed there's like, thousands and thousands of shinigami, is there less than I thought? Is that why I only ever see you and Rukia besides the dude who's currently stationed here? And I don't know about going into healthcare, that's my whole problem! I don't know what I want. Healthcare is fine but I don't feel like it's my life purpose to go into it either so yeah, I don't know. Healthcare would be alright, sports would be cool maybe? But I don't think there's a whole lot of sports careers outside of professional (which is definitely not happening) or teaching, and I'm not convinced I'm the teacher type. I just don't seem to have this strong urge to go in a particular direction like Yuzu does. But wow, I didn't know that, you basically HAD to train to be a shinigami? I didn't know that was a thing that could happen, that your reiatsu can go that far on its own. That kind of sucks though doesn't it? That you had no choice? I hope you enjoy being a shinigami at least.

To be honest I think my reiatsu probably is still going up. I don't think it's as quick as it was before, it's settled a little bit, probably because there hasn't been much danger around recently, but I do think it's still inching up. Is that a huge issue? Obviously it became a huge issue with you so now I'm kinda nervous. I'm not gonna get kidnapped into the shinigami am I? I can train to hide my reiatsu without actually becoming a shinigami right? Frankly I trust you more on this than Urahara. And you better let me know in advance if you can, Yuzu says she wants to make you those dumplings you liked again.

Best Wishes,

Karin

P.S. - I got excited at first thinking that sending these took less than two weeks, that didn't seem that bad considering we're sending them via Urahara whenever someone comes through realms, but then your letter took almost a month to come, it arrived on the 27th :( I'm handing this letter over on the 28th.

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

The Research & Development Team is not under my command, they belong to the twelfth, I cannot make sure that they're working on it, but I shall ask at the next opportunity I get. I think you're selling yourself short, I'm sure you could get at least five feet, but I do see your point, I can't say I fully trust him either, not on an individual basis anyway. I trust him to want the best for everybody, and to work towards that, but I don't think he pays attention to what that means for the individuals in the situation. More of a 'the end justifies the means' sort of person from what I've heard. And I'm afraid I have no idea who it was who damaged the bridge, but given they were fighting a powerful hollow at the time I imagine it was the correct course of action. Better on the bridge than in the middle of town.

I get the impression there is less shinigami than you think. Most squads have just over two hundred or so members, so 18 new recruits is actually a pretty good year. As for why you only really see me or Vice-Captain Kuchiki, it's a combination of needing a strong enough shinigami to deal with the sort of problems that crop up in Karakura, while also needing said shinigami to have a vague clue on how to navigate the human world. Vice-Captain Kuchiki presumably has rather extensive knowledge having lived in the human world for months, and I've been known to visit for years so they know I'm alright with being there as well. I think it's alright to not have an idea of a 'life's purpose' when you're in your second year of high school. Maybe just pick something for now as a sort of in-between while you continue working out what it is you want? Sometimes a job is just a job after all. You could always try a career in sports and see how it goes if it interests you now, and switch later on? I'm sure you'll figure something out. I'll admit I was definitely reluctant to train as a shinigami at first, it was never something I wanted originally, so it was hard to deal with to begin with I suppose, but I don't mind it these days. It's stressful, but at least I'm doing something where I'm trying to keep people safe, that suits me well enough.

Unfortunately yes, in my case my reiatsu continuously going up was an issue, but I don't think it's as serious with you. Firstly, you've not got a zanpakuto knocking on your subconscious as far as I know (the telltale giveaway is weird dreams where someone/something is trying to talk to you and tell you it's name, in case you were worried about that), and the people around you aren't vulnerable. You're unlikely to cause issues with your reiatsu because everyone around you has some degree of spiritual power already. As for the other questions, I certainly hope you won't be kidnapped into the shinigami, and I don't think your brother or even Urahara would let that happen, but it's possible you'll get Soul Society's attention if it keeps going unchecked. Of course with Urahara keeping on eye on it and keeping the reiatsu blocking bracelet on you, I'd argue that it's largely taken care of and shouldn't get other shinigami on you. There isn't much shinigami training you can do without becoming a shinigami, but you can learn to withdraw and hide your reiatsu even as a human so don't worry about that. I would say to ask your brother but he's never been very good at controlling his, Urahara is your other option, or possibly Vice-Captain Kuchiki if she's around. Or if those don't work out and your reiatsu gets to a point where you're truly worried about it let me know, I'll train you in it myself if it comes to it. Also, I appreciate the thought but your sister doesn't need to go to trouble like that for me.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

P.S. - I got your letter on the 17th of August. I think it's safe to say they take anywhere from over a week to just under a month to arrive each time.

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Let me know what the research team says! If they say they're not working on it please heavily suggest that they do, and if they say they are working on it, please ask how long they think it'll take them. Just think how much easier communicating would be if we could just call each other. The end justifies the means is EXACTLY Urahara's vibe, which is exactly why I don't really trust him. So yeah, it wouldn't even remotely surprise me if he's been reading these the entire time, better to assume the worst and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around. I suppose you have a point about the bridge being a better location than in the middle of a bunch of people, I'll put up with inconvenient travel times over unnecessary death.

Only a little over two hundred per squad? There is less than I thought! That's way less than your average university over here, that's crazy! 18 newbies is good in that case, your squad must be pretty popular. And no wonder I only really ever see you or Rukia, you guys clearly need to work on getting more people up to the speed with the human world or you're gonna end up over-worked! I guess I could just go for sports now and switch later? I don't know, you kinda get it into your head that you've gotta figure out what you want and stick to it, but I guess there's nothing actually stopping me from changing paths later. Once school goes back in I'm gonna get a meeting and talk to the careers lady, see what she says. I'm glad you're alright with being a shinigami now, hopefully it isn't stressful too much of the time.

Well, I'll take your word for it, you know more than me on this but I'm still kinda wary. You're right that there's no zanpakto trying to get my attention so far at least so that's something. If I do get kidnapped by the shinigami I'm trusting you to break me back out, but yeah that is kind of the whole point of the bracelet, that it blocks off my reiatsu from others so hollows can't find me so easily (and shinigami apparently, yeesh) so hopefully this won't actually be an issue. I don't really want to ask Urahara to train me but I will if I have to I guess. Asking Rukia's a good idea though! I'll ask whenever she next pops up, she seems like she'd be good at that sort of thing, maybe that'll solve this whole situation. Or you know, you, if you happen to come sooner, whoever comes to the human world next I guess! I'd feel better knowing that I myself could do the thing the bracelet's doing. Although I do have a question, how do you do it in your sleep? Or is it not possible and you're just vulnerable a third of the time? That seems unfortunate. Also you're kidding right? Cooking is the primary way my sister shows her care and affection, if she wants to cook for you there's no stopping her so you can at least give us notice so we can get ingredients and stuff.

Best Wishes,

Karin

- - - - -

Dear Karin,

I will let you know what the research team says as soon as it actually comes up. I can see your point, I suppose it is better to plan for the worst and be pleasantly surprised otherwise. Good to see you have your priorities in order, is the bridge finally finished though?

I remember being surprised by the size of your high school, I assume universities are even bigger? Must be an administrative nightmare to keep track of all those students, I feel like I can have a hard enough time with the 226 members I have. Squad 10 was surprisingly popular this year, the only other squads who had numbers like that were the sixth and the eleventh, both of which always have high numbers. We did have 'human world' classes at the academy at one point, but they ended up being scrapped a decade or so ago, any information learned was rendered almost completely obsolete within a few years, meaning the stuff the students learned was more or less useless by the time they were actually getting stationed in the human world. These days we just give a brief information pack about the human world before they leave, currently being updated semi-regularly by Vice-Captain Kuchiki. Meeting with a staff member whose job it is to deal with career pathways certainly sounds like a good idea, I hope it goes well if it hasn't already taken place.

Once again, I certainly hope Soul Society would try such a thing, it would be incredibly stupid considering I don't think your brother, who damn near took on the whole of Soul Society and pretty much came out on top, would ever let you get kidnapped in the first place. And I'm fairly sure me, a captain, breaking out someone Soul Society captured is probably considered treason of some kind, but I can promise I'll be in your corner one way or another. Not to mention, I don't think most shinigami would be prepared for you anyway, most are too used to sword combat, I don't think the average shinigami would handle your hand to hand very well. I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. As for hiding your reiatsu in your sleep, generally speaking you just practice it enough that it becomes second nature, most shinigami do it subconsciously after a while, including in sleep, although nightmares and the like can interfere a little bit. Your sister has met me what, three times? She feels strongly enough to cook for me? It really is unnecessary although I'm sure the thought is kind. I did say I'd give you notice if I came to the human world though, our sensors are showing an increase in hollow activity in Karakura recently. We're currently just monitoring, we're holding off for now as it might be temporary, but if it gets worse I'm coming to monitor the situation properly and to make sure no incidents happen with the hollow increase. Judging from the current rate, if it keeps going as is I'll probably be there in two weeks or so. With any luck this letter will arrive before I do but if not, I'll make sure to meet up with you somewhere.

Best Wishes,

Toshiro

- - - - -

Dear Toshiro,

Your letter got here super quick, less than a week after I sent mine! Looks like there's increased shinigami activity to match the hollow activity, which boy, you're not kidding that its increased. My reiatsu's jumped up again and I couldn't tell you if it was a response to all the hollows around, or that the hollows arrived because of me. I really hope it's the former. Hopefully you'll be here soon! I think I could do with the training sooner rather than later and if I'm being honest I'd feel safer. But anyway, in response to your letter:

The bridge is actually finished! Just in time for the increased hollows to fuck it up again I'm sure! Most universities are like 10,000 to 30,000 easy, and I think some are bigger than that? So yeah, only two hundred or so shinigami per squad is insane to me. I'm pretty sure the universities have whole administrative teams just for the purpose, does your squad have an admin person at all or is it just you? When I first found out about the shinigami I didn't think I'd sit here wondering about the bureaucracy of it all but here I am. Oh wow I would've loved to sit in one of those human world classes, would've been hilarious I bet. At least you give newly stationed people something, I imagine the culture shock must be a bit much, I'm sure Rukia's information is very accurate given how much time she's spent here. And the careers meeting is actually in two days, I kinda nervous about it to be honest, but hopefully it'll be helpful.

Well I suppose when you put it that way Soul Society kidnapping me would very much be poking the bear huh? I'm extremely saddened to hear that you wouldn't commit treason for me though, what kind of friendship is this??? But I suppose I'll take comfort in you being 'in my corner one way or another', whatever that means. Does it mean in the event of soul society kidnapping me and forcing me to be a shinigami you'd immediately put me in your squad? That's the vibe I'm getting. But that's good to know about the hand to hand combat and the reiatsu withdrawing while still asleep, I'll bear those both in mind. As for your potential visit, given hollows seem to be popping up left right and centre I'm assuming you're probably coming in a week or so, I'll look out for your arrival! I get the impression this letter isn't going to get to you before you arrive in the human world but just in case it does I'll let you know, Yuzu added the dumpling ingredients onto her shopping list. That means you've gotta be at our house for at least one dinner! Consider it repayment for the training I'm gonna demand from you.

Hope you get here safe,

Karin

[numbaoneflaya]

Can I get a list of all ur ocs?

Well anon youve done it, you made me make a list of all my major OCS in one place. I hope your happy with yourself. Under the cut for obvious reasons, may link in my blog desc later.

Modern/BTD verse!!

Jilly- Ferret beastkin little creature, was recently turned into a werewolf by vincent as well so she's running around on full moons in a wereferret wolf hybrid creature form. Chaotic and friendly and wants to be everyone's bestie. She has the most energy in the world and is very kind hearted. Banned from most Claires for stealing and from one Home Depot for climbing the shelves. Prone to living life with rose colored glasses on and seeing the best in everything/everything even when there's nothing there. Socialization is a must for her and is why being basemented/kidnapped broke her psych so quickly and developed severe stockholm. Sometimes overly talkative/enthusiastic and can scare people off. Even if she sees someone shes decided shes friends with be noticeably 'evil', will convince herself it must be for some reason/her fault and ignore it.

Ciggy- Undead punk still learning to harness his powers to interact with the world as a ghost. Was sacrificed by a cult he joined for free concert tickets and to get laid. Likes to cause problems on purpose both pre and prior death and he's not above possessing someone once he learns how to. Was called Rooster in high school before he dropped out because he's loud, obnoxious and always screaming. And also has bright red dyed hair. Looking 4 ways to become less ghosty bcs he wants to be able to help raise his infant daughter, whom he died before he could meet. Bit annoying and in your face, likes poking at bruises, his or others. Kind of a sad heart seeking attention through volume and persistence.

Mike: Vampire loser! Sells drugs and lives at raves. Was turned when she was attacked by a coked out vampire (whom she supplied the product to) and has major scarring on her face and chest. Needs a somewhat constant influx of blood so shell sometimes take victims back to her place and chain them up, slowly draining them over time. Feels bad (ish) about it tho so it is possible to survive her if you are nice and or interesting enough. Kind of desperate for a friend and for love. Is a stalker. If she likes you enough/finds you interesting, she might just appear in your house one night and start rummaging through your fridge like nothing is wrong and youve been besties for years. Its best to indulge her and be friendly, otherwise she could turn violent quickly if her feelings are hurt.

Kilaine- Regular human woman, but fucked up. Born and raised by an elite waspy society she had an interest in the human body and pain tolerance since she was young. Quickly learned that these traits were socially unacceptable in most professions, so she became a doctor. The only family she cared about was her younger sister who she lost in a car accident, where they were flipped over and trapped inside while it was afire. While her sister burned up in front of her Kilaine only lost her left arm and had major burns on her body. This tipped her descent into sadism and she is now madly obsessed with bringing her sister back no matter the cost. Rude and offstandish, clinical.

Dragon age verse!

Thurwen- My main Hero of Ferelden with a bad temper and a heart of gold. City elf from the Denerim Alienage, 18 at the start of origins. She's a reaver warrior with a lot of pent up rage which sometimes scares others when she lets it out in battle. Over the years she's grown less moody as she's had to take the role of Commander. Crude sense of humor and violent impulses, very sensitive to the plights of others and tries often to help. Never seen crying in public but only cries to herself at night- major martyr and hanged man complex.

Caz- My circle mage elf inquisitor who was an apostate before the conclave. Blood magic, but make it sneaky. Wary of strangers and new faces, always dealing with the impulse to flee/find a high vantage point. Endless curiosity about the unknown/ the forbidden/ naughty, was supposed to be made tranquil for it but she escaped. Kind of a little creature as well, lived on her own for a while as an apostate in the woods, filed her teeth down to sharp ends to make herself look more intimidating (shes 5 ft tall) and less cute (her elf ears are huge and expressive, which shes embarrassed about)

Dag and Thagna- Carta twins! Professional lyrium smugglers since birth pretty much. Raised casteless in dust town and had to work their way up the chain of command by themselves. Dag is the brother, Thagna the sister. Their father traded them to the carta for drinking money and their mom died in childbirth so they have somewhat of a codependent relationship. Both charismatic and calculating, friendly and agreeable but won't hesitate to put a dagger in your back. Hard to pin down morally or physically, squirrelly bastards.

Reila: Dalish elf who works for the inquisition/ is the inquisitor in some aus. She has an extreme fixation on elvhen history and rebuilding what they have lost. Not a people person, prefers solitude. Takes some time to warm up to shemhlen as she has a hard history with them. Good friends with Caz, who recruited her in the first place. Doesn't understand very many social cues and finds societal expectations limiting and frustrating. Fondness for halla and hooved animals, which she finds graceful.

Elder scrolls verse!

Valkya: Near seven foot nord woman whos over a thousand years old by the events of skyrim. Tall and buff, two handed warrior and compulsive hero there to bask in the spotlight save the day. She was killed at the start of the events of Elder scrolls online and had her soul ripped out and sent to coldharbor and she's just been a pain in the ass about it since then. Her body can physically die and will not regrow pieces. Her soul however will escape and teleport to the nearest source of power where her body will regrow from an aetherial plasm until its whole again. Loud and brash, friendly and jovial. Actually pretty keen especially after centuries of life but prefers to play dumb as it makes people underestimate her. Plus, she really does enjoy mud wrestling and drinking contests and acting generally like a rambunctious frat boy. Ha developed a bit of a substance problem and a problem with acting out, as after being alive so long she would turn to anything to dull the ache inside of her that never goes away.

Espira- My Dragonborn! Redguard from Hammerfell who was briefly in the Ash’abah due to killing undead while protecting her parents water farm as a child. Ran away from them after years and went to Cyrodille, then to Skyrim and was caught crossing the border. Reserved, kind and soft spoken, she's a sword and shield warrior who's committed herself to doing good in the world by helping others. Dislikes killing and anything messy but believes it is often necessary in order to protect the weak. She blacksmiths often to save money on the upkeep of her own equipment, and takes up metal jewelry working as a hobby with the excess material. Prone to trusting others too much and giving too many second chances, as shes always looking for ways to make even the most hardened criminal a second look at life.

Riley- Espiras little brother who she locked in the wardrobe during the event of the water farm attack. In preventing him from doing violence against the undead she kept him from being conscripted into the Ash’abah. He's way more chaotic than his sister, and suffers from a case of little sibling syndrome in which he will often pester/poke at people just to get a rise out of them. Still kind hearted as his sister, he tries to hide it because he believes that the world is a cruel place and the cruel survive. Despite that belief he is often still unable to force himself to be cruel/careless, only making a show of it so that others leave him alone and don't see that he's very sensitive and emotional. Deaf in one ear due to a magic mishap in his youth, he trained and enchanted his most beloved rats to live for years and sit on his shoulder, alerting him to noises he would not otherwise notice.

Felria: Evil vamp :/ chaotic evil dunmer necromancer. Small and devilish and likes dead bodies too much. Manipulative and cunning, she loves acting. She's a trained assassin for the dark brotherhood and is the speaker. Likes dressing up for missions and wearing disguises like its all a play. Loves toying with people more than she loves killing them, will act in ways that cause as much trauma as possible for other people just for fun and she finds the reactions interesting. Considers herself too far removed from most people's perception of morality and of her so it's hard for her to trust someone or see them as worthy of knowing her. Finds the psychology of grief and fear to be interesting and wants to study them first hand. The hero of kvatch.

Herren: Fifty something year old rat woman looking for something to keep her going. Ran away from her wealthy family in her youth when they wanted her to take charge of the household, instead became an infamous jewel thief and swashbuckler. Spent most of her life traveling and stealing and double dealing. She's smarmy and sarcastic, a serial romancer of the highest caliber. Bit of a show off and a hedonist, always looking for the next good party or new product to snort. Her family died off due to the hard times she wasn't there for and she keeps looking for bigger and bigger heists to fill her appetite as she's chronically bored and lonely, though wont accept intimacy and will scoff at it out of the belief she doesn't deserve it. Irresponsible and selfish, lonely and terrified of any sort of commitment. Fun to party with though!

[nevermindirah]

I am but a sad little trans man who absolutely wants to know your thoughts on immortals capabilities to transition because I have thoughts and they make my depressed little trans heart hurt because how in the world could they transition if their bodies heal everything?

Hi! Sending you hugs because I've been struggling with the exact same thoughts! I wrote this lil meta last month but I don't like it and my brain keeps interrupting things like my job and trips to the grocery store to get me working on this puzzle.

From what we see in the movie, our elderly friends have regular-human healing, just faster and MORE, plus magic. We have canon evidence of how this works with wounds/injuries and can infer from there about how their immortality would handle infections, genetic/physiological/autoimmune/etc disorders, malnutrition/dehydration/etc, mental illnesses, and dental stuff, as well as things that bodies do that aren't necessarily bad but often need medical care — like pregnancy and gender transition. (I’m not a medical professional, just a nerd who loves a good Wikipedia rabbithole.)

Let's start with an easy one. Nile's hand healing after she stuck it in the fire is just a lickety-split version of what would happen to a regular human with a small skin wound: clotting, inflammation, rebuilding, healed.

When Nile yeets herself and pharma bro out the window of the topmost tower, we see the same thing happen again but bigger, plus we see several of her bones pop themselves back into place, and presumably any blood vessels that got torn up magically correct themselves under her skin. Humans have been surviving injuries like major bone fractures for a very long time but a bone that heals without medical intervention to realign the fractured pieces might heal at a new angle, meaning it doesn't work as well anymore, and it might cause damage to surrounding organs/tissues and leave a lot of scar tissue or a chronic wound. But Nile only needs Booker and Nicky keeping her upright for barely a minute and then she's walking around on her own just fine.

A large wound that breaks deeply through the skin, like Nile's sliced throat or Booker's exploded abdomen, can be survivable for a regular human if it doesn't irreparably damage critical organs and if you can get medical attention before you bleed out, but even with modern medical intervention the results are rough. Jay and Dizzy aren't wrong for being deeply weirded out by Nile's flawless neck: even with the best plastic surgeons in the world on the case, closing up a wound like that will leave scar tissue that affects both appearance and function.

So, we've got immortality magic moving bones back into place, restarting stopped hearts and lungs and brains, rebuilding major structures like arteries and intestines, healing up wounds without scar tissue, pushing out bullets, and otherwise handwaving the big stuff. But it's not a magic wand, it’s a process, and bigger wounds take longer. It's like these people's mitochondria have little gnomes in there with schematics to rebuild their bodies to factory default.

From how these bodies handle wounds we can infer that they'd handle pathogens / infectious diseases the same way: inflammation, white blood cells attack, byebye plague see you never. And if these bodies are resetting bones and rebuilding organs, they're probably also correcting genetic disorders and shifting around physiological problems like bone spurs. So let's keep on inferring.

What if, instead of every death erasing hormone replacement therapy and gender-affirming surgery and leaving a trans immortal detransitioned over and fucking over again, what if the magic that governs immortality considers dysphoria-causing body parts just like any other wound to heal?

What if Booker is a trans man, and he's got that sweet muscle mass and that height and that beard that comes all the way up his cheeks because he's been on the wonder drug that is testosterone for over 200 years? What if immortality was all "we see you've been hung from the neck until dead, and your eyes have been pecked out, and also you have all these hormones that turn your body into a shape that makes you miserable — we're gonna fix all that" and then regenerated his pecked-out eyeballs and unsnapped his neck and undid the results of months of insufficient food AND ALSO started pumping him with the fantasy version of HRT so his chest started to reduce and his fat redistributed itself and his beard started coming in?

Who's to say that's not how it works?

All my dysphoria is social — I'm fine with my body for the most part and I CANNOT STAND when people assume things about my gender, because of my body or for any other reason. We see pretty clearly with Booker that mental illness isn't magically healed the way physical injuries are, and I think that's because the causes of mental illness are a combination of physiology/chemistry stuff and things like our beliefs about ourselves and the world, our experiences of trauma, and our experiences of getting our needs met or not. If I were immortal I could maybe break up with my SSRI, but it wouldn't stop me from getting misgendered — I'd still have to find a way to cope with the ongoing trauma of that. Having to navigate hundreds of cultures' ideas about gender when my gender is "uhhhhh" sounds like absolute hell for me, no thank you, do not want.

But for my fellow trans people whose dysphoria is primarily body-related, and for my social-dysphoria pals whose gender is something nearly every human being would recognize and all they need is to pass, how about let's make an executive decision that immortality includes HRT for anybody who needs it, with no psych eval or begging your insurance company or poking yourself with needles, and just like with wound healing it's like regular HRT but faster and more. HRT so powerful and so magical that it gives you the best possible version of the results you want and none of the results you don't. If I had the option to go on HRT for just like one or two changes but not the whole battery of things I would fucking do that, and if I were to join our elderly friends, maybe I could.

This might be easier on transmasc immortals than transfeminine ones, because testosterone's effects are basically impossible to reverse. But also you can't just keep waking back up after repeatedly drowning for 500 years, so fuck it. We're making an executive decision here.

Estrogen that grows your breasts and softens your dick but doesn't lessen your ability to orgasm. Immortality magic that makes your beard go away and maybe shrinks your height an inch or two or six. Maybe Quynh is trans and one time a few thousand years ago she got injured in battle worse than Booker's grenaded belly and she woke up an hour later with a vulva and a uterus and now her body is just like that. Factory reset.

I subscribe to the "God made wheat and grapes but not bread and wine so humans could share in the act of creation" model of transness and I personally feel very weird about the idea of immortality magically giving a trans immortal cisnormative genitals the same way it resets bones. There's no one right way to have a pussy or a dick, you know? Maybe Quynh woke up from a catastrophic gut wound in like 800 BCE with a constructed vagina rivaling the best our modern money can buy, without a uterus but with a clit that's just as magical as anybody else's.

I've been thinking about writing a Book of Nile fic with trans man Booker, which is why the two of them are most of my examples here. It would include porn, because apparently I can't write more than 1500 words about them without writing porn, so I need to think more about what's going to feel good for me and other trans people who might read it and won't accidentally facilitate cis people objectifying us. Like, I've thought in a lot of detail about what a clit enlarged by that many centuries of testosterone might look and feel like, and that specific experience is not mine so I'm treading carefully.

Cis people are welcome to reblog this! Fellow trans folks are welcome to join me in the act of creation on this post ;)