#primordial chains!au

[michi-beans]

Made a bunch of mini cards for my trigun aus to make threads on my twitter to organize stuff.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Gods, in that au where Macaque struck true, imagine his GUILT when he learns about the first egg. That, in his rage at Wukong and desire to harm the pilgrims, he destroyed what very might as well be his and Wukong's chance at a family.

Because I very much doubt Wukong will allow him to be around this second egg.

Prev. Me and @soniclozdplove do a lot of talking in the Notes.

Macaque learns of the First Egg when enters Diyu. Kṣitigarbha, the Bodhisattva of the dead and unborn, looks at him with a mixture of disappointment and sorrow. Macaque doesn't understand until he sees the egg-shaped mass of soul energy in the god's arms. Silent tears roll down his face as the little soul briefly forms the silhouette of a baby monkey.

He collapses as the realisation hits him like a mountain - Wukong was with child, and Macaque had caused him to miscarry. Macaque weeps and pleads for the Ten Kings to take his soul and spare the unborn in his place, only to receive the curt assurance from the bodhisattva that the little one will be kept safe for until they can reunite with their parent.

Macaque is in such despair at the tragedy he's caused that he fails to notice the chains of a greater force engulf and drag him into the deepest pits of the Underworld - Kṣitigarbha and the Ten Kings themselves left puzzled by what primordial force has taken the spiritual monkey.

Macaque spends half an eternity in pitch darkness, only able to listen to the sounds of the Underworld's waters and the odd gossip of it's inhabitants

Then he hears something truly amazing; the very soul of the child he stole from his mate is to be guided through Naihe Bridge - it is time for them to be reborn! He struggles against his confinement for the first time in over a thousand years - determined to protect the child and reunite with his mate.

Thats when the White Bone Spirit makes her strike. Even though Macaque knows nothing good will come of accepting her offer, he takes the risk - hoping beyond all hope that Wukong may come to forgive him for what he did to their first child.

Macaque does not receive a welcome party when he reaches Flower Fruit Mountain. Fear flashes in Wukong's eyes when he gazes upon his former mate once more - the red sash draped over his swollen belly resembling Macaque's missing scarf. Macaque drops to the ground, kowtowing to his mate about how he had genuinely not known of the First Egg when he had engaged him in battle and how *their* child is soon to reborn as the Second.

Tieshan starts strangling her former-sworn brother before Wukong can respond to Macaque's frenzied sobbing. The rest of Wukong's new found troop are there to witness this sight - the reincarnated Pilgrims horrified when Nezha reveals to them the details of what happened with Wukong's *First* stone egg. The only reason Macaque doesn't reenter Diyu immediately is the appearance of a certain Bodhisattva of Mercy. Guanyin shows their own brand of contempt, but tells them to let the shadow monkey live, sensing that he had returned for not-entirely selfish reasons.

Macaque decides that he must find a way to prove that he's remorseful and wishes to be there for Wukong and the Second/Rainbow Egg. It's pretty difficult to even get close to Wukong to grovel at his feet, his whole adoptive troop ready to tear Macaque apart for his sin.

Ultimately, the only thing Macaque can think of that could bring Wukong or his troop to even consider his apology is something Macaque himself had fought to free him from.

Macaque kneels before Guanyin and begs her to bind him.

Wukong can only blink away tears as he sees the familiar gold Circlet encircle Macaque's brow. Insurance that his former mate can never harm him or his child ever again, at the cost of his divine freedom. Subjecting himself to the same chains he fought to free his King from if it proved just a little bit that he was repentant.

It's a start.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

tagged by @mkdecimation this week (thank you <3)

got some more vampire au goodies for this week just in time for the temperature dropping here and the leaves changing color, it's very much spooky season for me already.

warnings for blood and gore descriptions, but mostly its just Price waxing poetic about his conflicted feelings over his hot vampire gf

It's not the first time he’s seen her in this state. Covered in blood that isn't her own, drenched to the point her clothes are a slick oil spill of black, the fibers so steeped in it they reflect the light. Her mouth drips red, crimson pouring down her chin. It’s always a startling realization to see her in her glory, a beast with prey, rending flesh from bone. The metallic tang of copper hits his nostrils and oozes down the back of his throat. It’s a stench he knows all too well, and not just because he’s involved with a vampire. It's a scent he carries with him. His hippocampus storing it. A reminder linked to memory, to emotion. Fear. Danger… The way she moans. He shakes his head, clearing the thoughts. Refocusing. 

The way she feeds in seclusion, hidden in the dark— this isn’t the way she treats him. There’s no romance here. The way she drinks from him is an act of bonding. Something tender, draped in all of the seductive elegance Rory had always carried with her. This— this is predatory. Violent. Cruel and crude as she satiates her most base need: to eat, to perpetuate her life. Even her undead one still requires sustenance.

That doesn't stop the disgust that burrows deep within him on a level he doesn’t quite understand. That primordial fear of the things in the shadows that go unseen, the reason why man sought fire in the dark. He’s learned not to let his emotions get the better of him when it matters, not to fall prey to instincts that went against his training, but witnessing the woman he loves turn into the very thing that parents have been checking under the bed and in closets for for centuries still needles in his brain.

She’s the top of the food chain, and he knows it.

The complete lack of humanity in her as she feeds on their enemies is a grotesque thing to witness. She had always been cold when it came to her kills, resolute with a trigger, never questioning her motivation to take a shot. Now, the weapon was removed from the equation. This was all just her. No switch flipped or order given. She was in her natural setting. 

Her long, sharp fangs descend and they don’t merely puncture small wounds into the artery to drink. Instead, she rips the layers of skin away with the frenzied delight of a child and a gift’s wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Giving into whatever it was that sustained her, whether disease or curse, he couldn’t be sure. No one did. It was just the truth of things. 

John lingers just out of sight, in the shadows watching, feeling like a voyeur as she grips at this stranger's dark hair, clawing at his scalp as she forces their head back and latches on with the same persistence as a leech. Her lips (the same one he’s fantasized about being on him) wrap around the throbbing pulse point, flooding her throat with their essence. Bleeding them like a stuck pig. Draining them until they're little more than a husk— as dry as the bloody desert. 

He grimaces at the spectacle. The body tossed away from her when done. Discarding the trash. A lesser life form that’s only use is to be fed upon after being a bullet sponge, fodder for some piece of filth they’ve been sent in to deal with.

Her hand drags over her lips as she smacks them and her tongue dips over plump lips, drenched in the color of life while she remains so plainly dead. Pale, pallid. Forever perfect like one of those stone angels guarding over tombs in a cemetery. 

A quiet groan of sated pleasure echoes in the silent room as she stands there, bodies strewn around her, and his breath hitches. He’s caught only the last dregs of her feast, her plate finally cleared. It’s clear Rory has a near insatiable hunger, an unquenchable thirst that constantly drives her, and he can only imagine the sheer will it must take her not to devour an entire base of soldiers when she’s stationed at one. She could do so far too easily. How she hasn’t lost control and torn his throat out yet, he can only imagine. The indomitable strength she carries was something he always recognized in her, it had never been more apparent than in this moment. She glances over her shoulder and the swirling depths of scarlet in her irises regard him as if he’s caught her in a lie, a secret, something that was never meant to be divulged to him. But there's no judgment in his stare, just the same unreadable gaze of a man who’s seen and done monstrous things-– 

Who was he to cast the first stone, after all?

tagging the cod list folks [opt in/out]

@taciturntraveller @writeforfandoms @imagoddamnonionmason @chadillacboseman @efingart

@alypink @roofgeese @harmonyowl @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042

@voidika @strangefable @direwombat @la-grosse-patate @josephseedismyfather

@statichvm @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies

@raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @finding-comfort-in-rain

@imogenkol @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @confidentandgood

[deconstructthesoup]

I saw a D&D AU with the Voices, and I decided that I also wanted to do a D&D AU with the Vessels, so here goes:

*cracks knuckles*

The players are the chapter 2 vessels, who have joined together after they were each mysteriously attacked---and nearly kidnapped---by worshipers of a primordial god only known as The Narrator. Even though they're all vastly different people with vastly different motivations, they have to work together in order to figure out how they've somehow angered a long-forgotten god.

The Tower is a scourge aasimar and an Oath of Conquest paladin, who devoted herself to The Apotheosis, queen of the gods and the embodiment of justice and retribution. She acts as the self-appointed leader of the group, even though a good chunk of the other players are having none of her self-righteousness and narcissism. She doesn't believe that the Narrator actually exists, and considers the quest to just be another heretic-killing spree.

The Adversary is a tiefling Ancestral Guardians barbarian, who grew up in a rough-and-tumble all-barbarian community and is slated to become its next leader. She's just happy to travel around the world bashing heads, and she winds up clashing the most with Tower---mainly due to their very different backgrounds. She genuinely doesn't care who or what the Narrator is, and just wants to kick ass and have a good time.

The Spectre is a ghost and a necromancer wizard, who actually died when she was attacked and has brought herself back in order to track down her killer and to take her revenge. She kind of lost herself in the ivory tower of academia when she was alive, and part of the reason she's sticking with the others is so she can actually form connections before it's truly too late. She's studied several old cults in her time, but the only thing she's found of The Narrator is an old painting of a crow with sharp teeth...

The Nightmare is a dhampir and an Undead warlock, who draws her magic from the dread vampire queen who turned her. She is no stranger to being hunted, for people fear and shun vampires and their spawn, but she knows full well that this time is different. And during the attack, she managed to devour a dream of her would-be captor, getting a little glimpse into the ancient powers of the god that wants her gone... and, well, who can resist the allure of taking down a being as old as time?

The Witch is a tabaxi Circle of Spores druid and an Arcane Trickster rogue, who's been living on her own in the woods after suffering a great betrayal and heartbreak that damaged her trust in anyone. She's only working with the others because she believes she'll get further if she does, and while she initially intends to backstab them once they're no longer useful, she finds herself growing closer to them as their journey continues. All she really wants is to go back to her old life... but her goal may change as her walls begin to come down.

The Prisoner is a human Armorer artificer, who once angered an archfey and was cursed to always be bound in chains. Undeterred, she turned this to her advantage, reforging her chains into armor that she could use as a weapon. She starts traveling with the rest purely due to self-preservation, as every time she resolved to just hide, The Narrator's worshipers found her again---but she's definitely the practical mind that they needed.

The Damsel is a half-elf College of Creation bard and a Beastmaster ranger, and she's a princess whose kingdom was usurped by an evil family member, leaving her on the run. She's very naive about how the world works, mainly due to being sheltered her entire life, and is sure that this situation can be solved with a nice conversation. Thankfully, she has someone to help her...

The Beast is a fey that was cursed to take the form of a barely-sapient panther, and she barely recalls her life in the Feywild. Still, she has a soft spot for the innocent princess she came across in the woods one day, and she will protect her for as long as she can.

The Razor is an elf Soulknife rogue and a College of Swords bard, and she's actually a pretty well-known circus performer. She's absolute chaos personified, and she really doesn't give a shit about The Narrator either way---she's just ready to kick ass, stab people, and hang out with her new best friends. Even if not all of them are super into being friends with the crazy blade lady.

And last but not least, The Stranger is a changeling Divine Soul sorcerer and a Grave Domain cleric, who unknowingly draws their power from the long-forgotten goddess of change, transformation, endings, and new beginnings. They woke up one day with no memory of who they were, and were immediately attacked for reasons they could not explain---so, needless to say, they're pretty traumatized. It also doesn't help that they don't even know what they really look like, so they're constantly changing to reflect what people expect of them... which isn't the most healthy thing, but they're an amnesiac, give them a break.

So... yeah!

[witchofthesouls]

If you have an au of transformers and they are present in some way what is your unicron like? I'm starving for unicron content :(

The various Other!Aus kicked off because of the Unicron-is-Earth connection could have made it possible and I crave more fantasy in Transformers.

Besides all the shitposts of Unicron being Italian, anti-Cybertronian devices are similar to anti-vampire equipment, and how his an older brother/sibling to Gaea, I haven't really delved deep into the guy. More like the other characters that are connected to him, like how Megatronus Prime and Prima are respectively reflections of Unicron and Primus.

If I'm focused on Bayverse, then he acts more like a primordial force of the cosmos that's currently slumbering in the core of the Earth. He is Chaos, and Chaos does what it does.

If I'm focused on Aligned/TFP, then he's a more active player who's trying to subvert the chains that Megatronus (and his descendants) buried into the planet as well as trying to work around (or with) a fledging Gaea who's painfully young on the cosmic scale.

Personally, I align Unicron as a deity of chaos and death. It makes sense as it complements his twin and is a check towards him (and vice versa). That's why I like to think Gaea is supposed to be a wilder, organic reflection of Primus that made use of Unicron's rage and hostility toward Primus (and his creations). Unicron was so off-put by his brother that he warded off his resting place with all the anti-elements he could, which Gaea took advantage of since Unicron needs sustenance to continue his existence.

It nicely bridges the gaps on how Earth and Cybertron are cousins with their weird similarities and gaping differences.

[cookisugarrdraws]

Okay I kinda wanna ramble about my "cosmic dragon au" as I'm dubbing it.

It's technically an au of my Mystreet rewrite however it is tied to @roxxie-spirt MCD rewrite. So, I recommend reading her lore about the divine warriors to kind of get an idea about my cracked au lol.

So, to start, all magic originally came from this primordial cosmic dragon named Mithora. She was originally from the Wyvern Dimension but her magic was so potent, it had been seeping into the overworld for centuries. She's an incredibly old dragon who is/was worshiped as a deity of magic (mostly by witches and such). When the wyverns came over, followed by Mithora who they recognized as their queen, many of the Divine Warriors became nervous. They, of course, began their wyvern hunting spree. Realizing Mithora would be a far more dangerous threat than the wyverns, they befriended her, intent on tricking her. To Mithora, she actually became very close friends with the Divine Warriors. Mithora was eventually betrayed by the DW, a special arrow of poison striking her heart. Although the poison didn't kill her (kinda difficult to insta kill a being as powerful as the source of all magic) it did permanently wound her. She was banished from the overworld via a portal spell and sealed away within her own dimension, unable to escape. The spell chaining her to the dimension would eventually wear off, but by the time it would, she'd be on death's doorstep.

Now for the actual character stuff; in this au, all of the mys characters are reincarnations of their MCD counterparts. This was done via intervention on Aphmau/Irene's behalf when she approached each of her friends (and enemies) when they died. She essentially offered them a second chance at life, although they would not remember anything of their previous life. When this happened and Aph stored the souls of the people who'd accepted her offer in the Irene dimension, Mithora was able to sneak into the Irene dimension while Aph was away. She chose Zane to be the next dragon and to take her place when her magic eventually ran out. She did this, not only because she was sympathetic towards Zane, who'd been robbed of his ties to magic as a half witch, but also as a big fat middle finger to Esmund who'd been the one to first kill a wyvern and the one who'd broken her heart by betraying her. (Mithora did have feelings for him but never mentioned them out of courtesy of his feelings towards Irene).

Well, because of Mithora's marking, Mys Zane ended up being very magically talented, even more than most children his age. By the time S3 rolls around, he's comfortable with his witch heritage and has tutored under Lucinda for some time. It's in s4 (so this would replace what happens in Emerald Secret) where Zane takes up the mantle of the new dragon.

Mithora, on her last ember of life, comes to Zane and explains what she has tutored him to do. (He's had dreams about her since he was a child and she'd teach him various things about magic). I imagine it would be this dramatic moment of Zane being called into the snowy woods, the snowstorm protecting him as he enters the woods but keeping the others away until it's over. So, he accepts, taking up the mantle and protecting magic. This is extra important because magic sustains nearly every facet of their world. Magic would also become far more powerful once Zane takes over since he'd essentially be restoring it to its original strength before the poison overtook Mithora and drained her of her magic.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk. I'll post more about my au when I have more lore to talk about hehe

[rebornofstars]

Don't know if anyone asked this yet but,

4. What is an unsung WIP of yours you'd like to promote?

ooooh! nope, you're the first!

a WIP i'm really excited about right now is the primordials! it's what i like to call the vegan god AU: the chain is convinced time is a god. but he isn't. and time is convinced that the chain are gods. but they aren't. it's stuffed full of comedic misunderstandings, which i love, and switches perspectives for maximum drama as the group travels to different hyrules. it's a great excuse to write something cryptic and magical without taking myself too seriously. they are all so confused in this fic. i love them.

last night i finished drafting the second chapter! it's in beta right now, which is why i'm so excited about it. you can expect to see an update soon 👀

[shallowseeker]

You've shared some things about seeing Jack as a baby as being ableism and I was wondering where you stand on this issue?

I'm assuming this is about the poll I shared. I think where I land right now on this particular issue: I assume the most charitable view I can. Escapism is the point for a lot of folks, so I try not to begrudge them that.

Some other, more rambling thoughts:

1. Jack had a longer anticipation phase: Unlike Amara and Emma, who are also supernatural born-adult cosmic entities, there was a longer anticipatory phase with Kelly, where we were excited about her pregnancy and anticipating her baby.

We journeyed with Kelly through being anguished over her decision-making and bonded with Cas over buying diapers etc etc. We also got to know Kelly (and Kelly's parents) way more than Emma or Amara's human parents. I think this attenuates some of the fandom preferences. NOTE: (Amara refers to herself as a child when she came to earth, saying of Crowley, "He tried to control me when I was a child." So I think the prodromal phase to her primordial emergence isn't as cut-and-dry as we'd like either.) But the thing with all of them is their growth is clearly presented as abnormal and outside the scope of a typical "human" experience. They are all characterized by their powers and their massive, massive intake of information. They all overshadow human sensibilities with their vastness, and overpower humans by leaps and bounds.

Simply put, they're much much much higher on the food chain, and that causes intense anxiety in their human relationships, something AU Michael keys into for Jack in The Spear:

via @spnscripthunt

Jack was afraid Michael was right. That he'd grow into thinking of his familial loyalties the same way we humans think about hamburgers or clothes.

I'm also thinking of this quote:

"As exquisite as the natural world is, however, there exists a violent underbelly that, for some reason, mostly goes unnoticed...In point of fact, the survival of any one species depends entirely on how successfully it's able to willfully kill--and usually eat--its neighboring species. Even human vegans and vegetarians survive by the demise of plants. Moreover, if you're wearing clothes as you read this, you're wearing death." -Randall R Scott from Entanglement is Not Spooky

In physics, the word information is closely related to microstates and probabilities. In some limited circumstances information is functionally similar to entropy. However, information is no substitute for knowledge and experience. I think the cosmic entities have way, way more information than humans, but not always more wisdom, so the power imbalances aren't super cut-and-dry. (This is why I write Jack-Harper like this.)

In fact, I think humans can naively latch onto the "perceived" playfulness and strangeness of the cosmic entities as a means to ease the anxiety of the inherent, extreme power imbalance. (Example: sexual inexperience is not a meaningful indicator of "innocence" when the same character is also an experienced war mongerer and cannibal. For a human to assume that is silly. Naive.)

///

2. The Jack infant pushback analysis is helpful for me: I've found the ableism analysis really helpful for delving into Jack's own perspective of who he is, how he relates to and moves through the world, and how he is perceived by others.

Simply put, I like it.

I'm a weirdo, (I test around 21-23 on the autism quotient, around your average chess champion), but that's a long way from having enough autistic traits to say what is or isn't ableism on this issue.

Even if that's not your primary mode of viewing Jack, I found it helpful for viewing Jack as more than just an accessory, more than fanon wish fulfillment. (Though wanting happiness for character is, as I said above, completely understandable) I really like Jack as a complex character all on his own.

And for that, I love how it tickles my brain. I'll start tagging it #complex jack and #culture hero jack if that helps!

///

3. Is baby Jack my favorite thing? No. But I've decided to focus on just...writing more actual Jack meta instead.

I want to emphasize the complexities of his role as WAR SON and the idea of his effervescence as at least partly defensive performance (a la analogous to performing!Dean). He's a pretty sassy mofo; Kelly Kline is too.

I think a lot of his interiority being similar to Mary is fascinating. (They are both child soldiers.)

I also like how the TFW dads’ views on Jack are often analogous to how they view themselves.

So you'll find I write a lot of that kinda stuff instead.

///

4. Culture hero Jack: I think if I had to characterize where I'm at with Jack as a character, I get the most mileage out of the Born-Sexy-Yesterday trope (Like Vision from the MCU) and Culture Hero myths (which often features babies born as adult males who are at war with their murderous God!grandfathers).

It's not to say that's better or more right. I just dig it. You'll find that I write and share what I find personally compelling.

There are a lot of opinions that I find well-argued that...simply don't do anything for me right now. Sometimes it's a vibe I'm just not feeling, sometimes it's a topic I exhausted in my youth and am just extremely played out on.

For now, I just focus on the ones that do it for me. :-)

Sorry that got rambling.

I hope that answers your question and makes you feel open to me sharing some of this stuff without feeling like maybe I'm bashing you if you enjoy that content? Anyway... :-)

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 48

fandoms: genshin, mdzs, sxf, tgcf

genshin

the earth shudders at the tower asunder by caelitea

Not all gods have long memories.

(Primordial!Travelers AU, in which Lumine and Aether are not just gods, but amongst the oldest ones.)

a geo archon's guide to the modern era by Erina

“Morax,” Xiao says after Zhongli finishes his retelling of the incident. “He thinks you’re a weirdo.”

“No, don’t say that,” Barbatos snickers. “You’ll give him hope that this is salvageable.” He lowers his voice. “Morax, he thinks you’re a boomer.”

(In which Zhongli hibernates for centuries and wakes up in the modern world)

mdzs

we could turn the world to gold by butterflylungs

He does not have a family. All he knows is this satellite. He must have been somewhere else before, he thinks. But ever since he can remember, he has been here.

It did not feel like imprisonment, when he was younger and naïve. Wen Ruohan and his children were all he knew. He wanted to make them proud. He thought, maybe, he would get something like family in return. Maybe they’d let him go to Nightless City to live with them.

-

Lan Zhan has been trapped in a satellite his whole life, unable to escape, rebelling quietly against his captors. That is, until Wei Ying comes along.

Winter Bloom by Niitza

When lotuses bloom in Wei Ying’s pond in the middle of winter, he recognizes them at once for what they really are: an auspicious sign. It cannot be meant for him, though. He is nothing but a modest farmer. Such a miracle has to have appeared for someone else: a cultivator, a nobleman, a king.

And so, he sets off for the capital, with the sole aim of letting the royal family know about it.

Little does he know that this decision will start a chain of events that will help expose a dark scheme against the crown—a fact that will earn him the gratefulness of a king…and the love of a prince.

Bring Your Wonder (Lose Your Faith) by kianspo

(mature)

Canon divergence starting from after the Xuanwu Cave. What if it wasn't Wang Lingjiao who came to Lotus Pier? What if Wen Ruohan had sent Wen Zhuliu instead? The respectful, sensible Wen Zhuliu, who knows how to work the room...

In which Wei Wuxian loses his hand (he gets one better), Lotus Pier is saved, the Lan Clan is said to be dead to the last man, there's a horrible banquet in Nightless City, someone accidentally plays Sleeping Beauty, and there's that awkward moment when you realize Meng Yao is the sane one (except not really). It's a dark, dark night, but the sun will rise eventually.

sxf

hidden by glacialdawn

"Opayshun Sticks gonna fail?" Anya mumbles, fast asleep.

Loid freezes on the spot.

The Woman in Red by nightofnyx8 

(mature)

WISE enlists the help of Thorn Princess to seduce a certain client, much to the displeasure of her husband.

tgcf

say you love me tonight by cangji

(explicit)

disowned heir xie lian is desperate for a job. so desperate that even though he gets hired for a position he’s suspiciously underqualified for, he takes it anyway.

(xie lian is pretty sure the ceo of crimson rain only hired him because he wants to fuck him. he’s not sure he minds.)

Blood and Ashes by sprx77

(explicit)

Four hundred years before canon, Xie Lian wanders into Ghost City. He finds a blood donation center that pays quite well for contributions, and learns that private donors make even more! That's an amazing deal! Xie Lian has So Much blood!

He asks tour guide San Lang, a friendly vampiric ghost native to the city, if he knows anyone looking for a personal blood donor, and San Lang-- who is definitely not a whole entire Ghost King-- jumps on that shit like white on rice. What's he supposed to do, let Xie Lian go to someone else!? Over his dead body!

Or: In which Hua Cheng finds his god four hundred years early, accidentally winds up in the position to (blasphemously) drink his holy, delicious blood, and tries to Pspspsps him into staying forever the night at Paradise Manor while he's at it. This is fine! It's totally fine. He can be cool. He can be so cool.

Ignorance is Bliss by KingfisherPrince

It had happened. The worst had come to pass. Heaven had failed to prevent the birth of a new Calamity, and soon, a new Ghost King would be born.

The last time this had happened, Hua Cheng had felled 33 gods in a single night, made a mockery of the Heavens, terrorised them ever since. A repeat of such an event, possibly even an alliance between the two could be devastating. Who knew what further terrors could be wrought? Blind fear struck the veins of all who heard the news, windows and doors were barred, lights snuffed out in hopes they’d think nobody home.

It was all moot of course. It was now too late to put a stop to. This new horror would find them eventually, just like before. All they could do was hide up in the clouds and wait.

And wait.

...And wait…?

…This was probably too much waiting.

--

In which Xie Lian becomes a Ghost King completely by accident and doesn't realise until after he's ascended for the third time.

[the-white-void]

Dearest Humanity

Puppet AU where Darling is Tiamat from FGO headcannons

Soo... Since Tiamat's occupation is being the Mother of all life and a Primordial God so it would make sense if I would base Darling with her, and I'll make Gudako/Gudao

So let's say that when you first arrived you found yourself inside a ball-jointed doll body and you were tasked to summon someone

For the sake of this headcannon, let's say: the way you were tasked to summon her was that you arrived at an old manor where you accidentally activated a contraption that chained your arms and legs and a book appeared, and the only way to free yourself was to do what the book told you to do

You did what the book said and prepared everything, which was fairly simple as everything was in the room, and started the incantation.

Bing bang stage effects happen and you summon a girl.

Not one you were hoping to get

And the chains dissipate, you were free and about to walk out.

Then the girl jumped behind you, holding you tight,and looked you straight in the eyes

You were pretty startled by her and you notice some details of hers now that she's close to you

And before you could say anything she lets go and gets embarrassed

You didn't know what to do so you just asked "uhmm... who... are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just- uhm... Nevermind" a string of silence came and broke again as she reintroduces herself

"I am Mother... No, that is my role. My name is... ARURU. I have come here as you have called me. Are you surprised, humanity? I am here to lend you my strength. Yes. That is my reason. Are you happy, human?"

You were confused about her but from her choice of words, she might be a being higher than humanity, most likely a god, so maybe you should just roll with it

"Well... ARURU, I don't know how to say it but, I didn't really want to summon you, I just got caught in a situation where I was blackmailed to summon you, soo... can you go back?"

She frowned and looked down as tears were forming in her eyes so you tried to comfort her, but you were left with no choice but to just accept her.

"Well ARURU, do you know your way around this place because I'm a little lost here?"

"Yes I do, don't worry human, ARURU won't get you lost"

Very reassuring to put your trust in a childgod you summoned.

As you both go along your journey she tells you many things hidden from what you saw in-game, specifically, the time before the primordial one, and you were starting to think if she was some secret final boss in the game but kept your mouth shut about it

Her time with you allowed her to recollect her strength, and as time moved on, she finds herself drawing closer to you

"[name] I originally left that contraption there for someone to summon me to regain my strength to protect my pride, but now... I'm here for you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner"

"Well it was pretty obvious that you made it, so I don't mind that much, just don't do it again"

As more power she gained, her form changed along with it

I guess she kind of became your mother figure since she took care of you so often towards your journey

"I have grown up. I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid at all. I won't grieve anymore"

"You always say you care for me, so I'll keep you safe too"

"You've been protecting me for a long time already"

"Hmm... Well... you're right."

Time went on as she continuously grows to match with her power that even she's starting to get scared of it.

She says that at the height of her prime, her power, is something even she fears more than fate. Even her tone began to sadden

"Even if I keep growing bigger... Even if I lose my human speech... Even if I return to my original form... I'll still keep protecting you. Because I want to keep protecting you."

She was starting to scare you from how she described her original form, from how she would lose her human speech, her form growing bigger, and how she might destroy Teyvat as a whole.

But she wouldn't do that, at least, not to you.

She said she'll protect you, so she'd never do that

Right?

[masterqwertster]

For the D&D Spell list, I stumbled upon the Imprisonment spell and thought it could have some interesting implications. Especially the Burial or Minimus Containment variations. And I'm always a sucker for Ashton Hurt/Comfort.

Spell Hurt/Comfort Prompt (though you can just send a D&D spell this time) Imprisonment You create a magical restraint to hold a creature that you can see within 30 feet. The target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or be bound by the spell; if it succeeds, it is immune to this spell if you cast it again. While affected by this spell, the creature doesn't need to breathe, eat, or drink, and it doesn’t age. Divination spells can’t locate or perceive the target. During the 1 minute casting of the spell, in any of its versions, you can specify a condition that will cause the spell to end and release the target. The condition can be as specific or as elaborate as you choose, but the DM must agree that the condition is reasonable and has a likelihood of coming to pass. The conditions can be based on a creature’s name, identity, or deity but otherwise must be based on observable actions or qualities and not based on intangibles such as level, class, or hit points. A Dispel Magic spell can end the spell only if it is cast as a 9th-level spell, targeting either the prison or the special component used to create it. You can use a particular special component to create only one prison at a time. If you cast the spell again using the same component, the target of the first casting is immediately freed from its binding. When you cast the spell, you choose one of the following forms of imprisonment. Burial. The target is entombed far beneath the earth in a sphere of magical force that is just large enough to contain the target. Nothing can pass through the sphere, nor can any creature teleport or use planar travel to get into or out of it. Chaining. Heavy chains, firmly rooted in the ground, hold the target in place. The target is restrained until the spell ends, and it can’t move or be moved by any means until then. Hedged Prison. The spell transports the target into a tiny demiplane that is warded against teleportation and planar travel. The demiplane can be a labyrinth, a cage, a tower, or any similar confined structure or area of your choice. Minimus Containment. The target shrinks to a height of 1 inch and is imprisoned inside a gemstone or similar object. Light can pass through the gemstone normally (allowing the target to see out and other creatures to see in), but nothing else can pass through, even by means of teleportation or planar travel. The gemstone can’t be cut or broken while the spell remains in effect. Slumber. The target falls asleep and can’t be awoken. So this is sort of post-canon, assuming all goes well with stopping Ludinus. Or borderline Accidental Ascension AU. And I used the Minimus Containment.

Being stuck in here is going to drive them fucking insane. Whatever monster those sanctimonious fuckers think they are, Ashton’s almost sure they’ll be worse when they’re released if left alone in this fucking gem too long.

He’s not thirsty or hungry in here. Not in the traditional sense. But Ashton is cut off from his element. There’s not even the distant hum of earth that being on a ship leaves him with. And he fucking needs it. That’s what it means to be from the earth, of the earth, to the earth. What it means to be the heir to the Empress of Earth. Once the Shard had awakened, earth and stone had become too much a part of him to ever feel comfortable without it near.

Though Ashton doesn’t need the earth as much as he needs his family. Too much of his life he’s been starved of love. To be torn away from yet another family, the family that stayed and never sent him away– 

If those zealots want a primordial monster, they’re going to get one with this bullshit.

Especially when they’ve tossed the gem containing him into some forgotten vault. Ashton can’t see in the dark, and his Tremorsense doesn’t even touch the outside of the gem, much less anything beyond it. There is nothing for Ashton to do but think and feel.

And get lost in the infinite weave of possibilities their half-beacon brain feeds them when they sleep. To slowly lose their grip on just which version of them they are.

Fuck. 

Regular old insanity almost sounds better.

___

Ashton doesn’t know how long it’s been when there are lights outside the gem. Lilac and sky blue. They think they like those colors.

They definitely like that there is something happening here. 

(They think they’re awake. Hope they’re awake)

The lights move about, glittering and refracting and casting shadows over the other things in the vault. Whoever has them is searching for something. 

(He dares not hope that it’s him)

Closer and closer, the lights come, their owner’s search continuing. Ashton drinks in as much as they can see so that when the darkness returns they’ll have something new to think about. (Something that is not yet another life they cannot have)

When the lights finally illuminate him, he can see the not-so-small group searching the vault–

…It can’t be. It has to be. They came–?

A hand gently picks up the gem, cradling it close.

They came!

…oh no. Nonononono. What are they thinking?! They’ll be trapped too! Killed! 

They need– 

He needs– 

___

Ashton is in darkness again. 

This time terror and worry are his constant companions.

___

If you succeed in retaking your friend, you will want to release them far, far away from other people. Isolation will do terrible things to a person, and your friend is far too powerful for it to be safe.

___

There is light again. So much light. And colors. Lots and lots of colors.

Are the others safe? Are they okay? What–? 

There is earth beneath Ashton’s hands. Beneath all of him. It sings. It weeps. It rages. It welcomes him.

Ashton wants to wrap themself up in the earth because it’s real. They are not in that fucking gem, can feel the dusted powder of it spread in the dirt beneath them. (The soft shifting feet, the grind of a wheel)

The earth calls, beckons with its safety. Ashton starts sinking into it, ready to burrow away from all possible recapture.

“STOP!”

The call comes in duplicate, laced with magic. One just barely slides off his scattered mind, the other connects and stills his movement (stills the earth he didn’t realize he was shaking).

Arms engulf him, his name said like a prayer, pleading that he stay. (He knows these voices. Has hoped and begged to truly hear them again)

The spell fades.

Ashton doesn’t move. He’s home.

Some quick background stuff on this: Some of the crazier religious types decided that the gods destroying the titans meant titans are a Big No, so they ought to take Ashton, Titan of Blood, out of the picture. ...But, Ashton did help stop the whole Predathos mess. And what can happen once can happen again. (and possibly someone knows about consecution and beacons and how that means Ashton may not stay dead or leave behind a Shard for them to lock up) Also, the gods did not kill Ka'Mort, they sealed her. So instead of killing him, they imprison him to be brought out as a last resort in times of global need. It takes Bells Hells a little while to locate Ashton (and/or possibly figure out this happened at all) since the Imprisonment spell prison is anti-divination. So they had to work their way through the people involved, and call in some favors/help/advice. Plus the time to prepare and execute a raid on a high-security Temple vault. Oh, and locate an area where Ashton can have an earthquaking breakdown once they free him. So at least a week or two of semi-sensory deprivation to drive Ashton a little crazy. But it's all better now! Oh, and I rolled to see if Ashton could resist Imogen and FCG casting Command to keep them from sinking into the ground forever using current (level 11) stats. Ashton just met FCG's spell DC and rolled one under Imogen's spell DC.

[michi-beans]

《Vashwood Week》

Day 7: Mythology AU | Free Day

I'm done I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[quitealotofsodapop]

I jsut had an idea for Slow Boiled Stone Egg au.

Basically, in the base jttw canon story, both Buddha and Guanyin are supposed to be present DURING the fight with Macaque. So you can bet that after a battle like that, Guanyin is going to insist on Wukong getting a checkup, like... he's pregnant for crying out loud and just had to kill his mate. While she is doing that, Gold Star basically comes down to get statements and discovers A) Wukong is a Stone Monkey, B) he pregnant, and C) he very much wants to keep this a secret. Now, Gold Star always liked Wukong. It's why he tried also hard to defend him when the Jade Emperor was all for killing him for his insolence from the get-go. Learning his favorite troublemaker had been a member of his favorite species of extinct primate celestial this time is a big shock to him, and he did so after discovering he had to kill his own mate, who without the magic to keep up a glamour, is now very obviously seen as another Stone Monkey. He's gonna know what that means for Wukong, being ghe msot knowledgeable about Stone Monkeys and their mating habits, and he'll feel a lot of sympathy for him.

I imagine he'll have a talk with the Pilgrims, just letting that they should take it easy on Wukong for a bit after the death of his mate, and offhandedly mentioning the fact Stone Monkeys mate for life. And kindly ask that they follow Wukong's request to keep these facts hidden and secret, and to respect that Wukong is in grieving and likely will not ever truly be able to find romantic love again.

Oh gosh, and Guanyin and Gold Star were likely unaware that Macaque didn't know until the fight was over. Buddha probably did but he has a lot on his cosmic plate rn.

The PIlgrims, the Gods, and even Guanyin herself wanted to step in and stop the fight; but Wukong refused. He demanded that it stay between him and his mate, that he can find a way to calm him down enough to tell him.

In the Jttw Stone Egged au: Wukong is successful.

However, in the Slow Boiled au: he tragically isn't.

Wukong is sobbing, wailing, screaming over the deceased monkey before him. His Pilgrim brothers are so disturbed by what they just seen that they can't even speak. Guanyin is stoney, trying to hide her own tears of sympathy as she tries to approach the monkey to determine his and his unborn's condition. Wukong refuses to move from his spot drapped over his unmoving mate.

Meanwhile, Gold Star stands nearby. A look of dismay, confirmation, and horror upon his face.

I hc that Gold Star has some huge empathy, not only for demons, but for any form of life - as the planet Venus is now scienfically believed to have once had a basis of life similar to what later developed on Earth's pre-Cambrian. The primordial god of Venus had to watch all life on his planet die off, whether due to supernatural or cosmic changes. When he became the Jade Emperor's right-hand man, Gold Star advocates for all life, now matter what - including a little chaos monkey he suspected was a reminder of the far past.

When the Monkey King and the Six Eared Macaque fought and the Macaque died; Gold Star basically witnessed what very well could be the last member of an extinct species kill their mate in self-defence. And upon realising that both monkeys were an extinct species of celestial primate? You might as well have crushed a dodo egg right infront of him.

Stone Monkeys mate for life.

Sun Wukong is an *immortal* Stone Monkey. One that's carrying a Stone egg (!!).

And he has just killed his mate in self-defence.

Gold Star bluntly states the above bullet points to the Pilgrims when asked why he himself is tearing up. All four companions weep with sympathy as the knowledge sets in, Tripitaka in particular blaming himself for banishing Wukong just before the Macaque tried ambushing them. Had the monk maybe have been more trusting of his student then maybe both monkeys could be alive right now.

At some point during the grieving, a mass of chains rise up from the Underworld and pull the six-eared monkey down into the depths, ignoring how the Monkey King screams and digs through the dirt to follow his mate.

The stench of death magic hangs in the air.

Wukong stare blankly at the dirt. His moonlight has been taken into the Underworld. Somewhere he himself is unwelcome.

In the next few years he attempts to bursts through the gates to retrieve his mate, only to recieve word that the Liu'er Mihou is not listed among the dead throughout all the levels of Hell. Wukong cries once more, now bittersweet, that his mate has passed through the Bridge of Naihe into the next life.

Wukong spends the next thousand years waiting.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Morifinwë

Rating: M

Pairing: Melkor x Caranthir

Others: Mairon 

Prompts: Stalking | Attention 

Themes:  Dark | NSFW

Warnings: Revenge | Manipulation | Corruption | Kissing | Possession/ Necromancy

Wordcount: 3.8k words

Summary: After he is humiliated by Fëanor, Melkor devises a way to take revenge

A/n 1: this is the last of the three fics that have been inspired by these prompts by @cilil

A/n 2: In this AU, only Utumno was destroyed, as the Valar did not know yet about Angband. Furthermore, Mairon did not join Melkor prior to his capture and chaining. He still served Aulë, but secretly functioned as Melkor’s lover and spy. This story takes place just after Melkor is released from Lumbi, and before to the Darkening of Valinor

Etymology of Maglor’s wife’s name, Indilien: Indil(Lotus) ien (suf. feminine ending; feminine patronymic). This is her father-name, and Morilindë ("Nightingale"), is her mother-name.

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

The fourth son of Fëanor was whom Melkor sought first, much to Mairon’s dismay. “Of all the sons of that accursed Fëanor,” he asked, incredulous, “why him, my lord?”

Ah, why him, indeed. “Because his father shamed me before the others in Tirion and cursed me,” Melkor returned. They always met in secret, near the dark and lonely slopes of the Hyarmentir, where a primordial being was supposed to have devised their liar. Few came this way for fear running afoul of that dark creature; for Melkor and Mairon, it was a place where they could meet and talk freely, far away from the prying eyes of others. “That is why.”

His most trusted servant did not understand him. “Morifinwë is in a dour mood during the best of times, my lord, and too quick to anger during the worst of it. Besides, his gifts are middling at best. Pray tell me how one such as he would serve your purpose when one of the others would do.”

“Nelyafinwë and Turcafinwë command the affections of the Valar they serve.” Melkor did not lose patience with Mairon. Then again, he never did. The Maia served him diligently and well and loved him the way no other did. And if he was to serve Melkor properly in all things, he needed to know what plans his master had conceived. “And Oromë and Tulkas will stop at nothing to shield them from me.”

“Kanafinwë and Curufinwë the younger, then,” Mairon countered in return. “One is a gifted minstrel; the other is said to be as gifted a craftsman as his lord father. Their corruption would add more luster to your victory over Fëanor, surely.”

“Kanafinwë?” Melkor answered with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Bah! What use would I have for more minstrels? As for Curufinwë the younger… He is too fond of his father, while the warbler everyone swoons over is all too fond of his lady mother. You told me this yourself. I cannot afford to have either of them confiding with their parents; it will ruin all my plans.”

"Which, of course, leaves you with the one everyone calls Moryo and the twins.” Mairon now understood. Trying to influence the other four sons of Fëanor could lead to their undoing, and then all would be lost once the Valar learned of their schemes.

“Yes. Those three will do. They may not be as formidable as their brothers, but I will still have three sons. Three sons, Mairon, to help bring down the mighty Fëanor and heap shame upon his head. It is only proper, I think, given how he shamed me.”

“The twins would be harder to influence,” Mairon pondered aloud. “So, we should start with Morifinwë. He is often by himself; I have seen it with my own eyes. He should be the easiest to convince to join your cause. I will find out what he desires, my lord, and you must offer it to him. You, my lord, and not I. Your path will be easier to traverse after that.”

“And this is why I am convinced I made a wise choice by seeking you out.” Melkor caressed Mairon’s hair, his cheek. The Maia shivered and closed his eyes, coming ever closer to him. “Will you be vexed by this, precious? My seducing others?”

“I take no quarrel with you giving of yourself to others, my lord, so long as I am not expected to just sit in a corner and watch while you enjoy yourself,” Mairon jested, his blazing eyes filling with wicked humor. Melkor threw his head back and laughed.

Thus began the Vala’s quest to corrupt Caranthir and bring him under his influence. He started by listening to Mairon’s tales of where the elf went and what he did. It had been easy for the Maia to coax such information out of the lips of others. He listened to maids and stewards and cooks alike, for they saw and heard more than their lords and ladies ever did. They called on the Great Forge, needing something mended or something new crafted, and they talked with him while they waited. And Mairon took great care to welcome them well and reward them with harmless little tales in return, just enough to rouse their curiosity and encourage them to continue confiding in him.

He discovered much. Caranthir did not just wander off by himself. He was often lonely, having pushed the others away because of his dark moods and fiery temper. Oh, his kin loved him, to be sure, but he made it hard for them most of the time. And he envied his brothers for how each of them had neatly paired off with another, leaving him with no one. That little morsel of knowledge was repeated to him by a cook who had oft seen his lord looking on wistfully while Maedhros listened to Maglor sing, or while Celegorm taught Curufin the finer points of hunting, or while the twins drove everyone and themselves to distraction with their many capers.

And that was not all. “He craves to be known for his own skills,” a handmaid of Nerdanel said. “And he wishes to wed a lady of high birth and fortune. My lady tried to counsel him. She urged him to be patient with himself and to temper his expectations when it comes to marriage, advising him that it is better to wed for love than for wealth. Alas, such is not enough for Lord Caranthir when he weaves his world of dreams.” 

It may not have been enough for Caranthir and his ambitions, but it was certainly enough for Melkor and his. He took advantage of the knowledge Mairon had gleaned from the others and appeared in all the places Caranthir frequented. He would linger just long enough to capture the elf’s particular attention, rewarding him with the occasional smile and going no further than that. Mairon counseled him to conduct himself this way, so that Caranthir approached him first.

“Make certain you are seen by him and by him alone. And wait for your prey to come to you, my lord,” he had urged, “for only then can you truly ensnare him in your clutches.”

Melkor heeded all Mairon had to say, and he agreed the Maia’s way was best.

Melkor listened to all that Mairon had to say, and he agreed the Maia’s way was best. 

And wherever Caranthir went, Melkor was there: in the great library of Tirion, in the city square, walking along the paths of the city’s many gardens, or seated by the edge of a fountain, trailing his hand over the surface of the water. Wherever he found himself, Melkor was there.

It unnerved the elf in the beginning. His father and mother and all the others warned him, saying, “If you should ever come upon him, turn sharply on your heels, and walk away. Melkor is full of cunning and treachery. He will no doubt try to trap you with his lies.”

But Melkor did not approach him, strange as it may have been. The Vala never sought him out and never introduced himself to him. He did not even speak to him. He would simply turn his piercing gaze toward him and then look away. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, Caranthir swore he smiled before he turned his attention elsewhere. The elven lord was amazed, for Melkor was said to be cold and cruel, and the crimes he had committed while he held lordship of Utumno were nigh unspeakable. And yet, there he was, rewarding an elf, a being he was believed to hold in contempt no less, with a sliver of his regard. Caranthir did not utter a word of such encounters, not to his mother and father, and not to his brothers. He thought they would insist that he be accompanied by one of the others, like he was no more than a child. The notion, quite rightly, chafed at him.

And, truth be told, Caranthir found himself enjoying the attention.

“Hail and well met, my lord.” He had espied Melkor seated upon a marble bench and approached him after mustering his courage. He looked around. The gardens were empty; there was no one to see them together. “It is not often I find anyone here at this particular hour.”

Nor would there be, had Mairon not learned of it from the others.

“Hail and well met, my lord Morifinwë,” Melkor replied warmly. “I came here because I was told the gardens were best enjoyed when there was less of a throng moving about them.”

It was a lie. Melkor did not care a whit about the gardens. He missed the smoky mountains he called home, the great keep he delved beneath it, and the ice and snow that lay thick around the great realm he had claimed for himself. Nevertheless, he was willing to endure the growing things that lay all about him if it meant achieving his goal. 

"Indeed, my lord,” Caranthir agreed, and he moved to sit beside the Vala after he was invited to do so. “I too prefer the gardens this way, when the others are not present.”

Do you truly enjoy the gardens when the others are not present, or do you prefer it that way so as not to remind yourself that you are alone? Melkor guarded his tongue even as he studied the elf discretely. Caranthir was ruddy of skin like his mother, and black of hair like his father. His clear amber eyes, a rare thing among his kin, held within them the light of Telperion, as did the eyes of all the elves of the Blessed Realm. And they glittered like new gold.

Find out what he desires and offer it to him. And thanks to his beloved, Melkor now knew what the elf desired: companionship, the affections of one of high birth and rank, and a chance to stand out from among his brothers. Easy things to be sure, and Melkor prepared himself to offer them all. 

“Tis a strange thing to see eyes such as yours,” Melkor observed with a casual air. “Of grey and green and blue and brown I have seen aplenty, but not eyes such as yours. They are like new gold, fresh from the forge.”

Caranthir flushed, never having received such praise before. Oh, he had received praise before, but never like this, and never from one of the Exalted Ones, no less.

“If only the others saw the same,” he grumbled to no one in particular, and looked at the heavens. The stars shone brightly against a vivid indigo and lilac sky. The spectacle took his breath away and made him feel grateful to have someone, even one such as Melkor, seated beside him. It made him feel less alone. “I thank you, my lord, for your words. Pray why are you here? I was told there is a great feast in Valmar for all of the Valar.”

“Feasts and frivolous frolics are of little interest to one such as myself,” Melkor lied again quite easily. In truth, he rather enjoyed the occasional feast; he just did not enjoy being around those that played a role in his downfall and the destruction of Utumno, like Tulkas and Oromë and that dark-haired herald of Manwë, Eönwë. If asked by Mairon, Melkor would admit that he would rather dine with the ravenous creatures of the Void than eat and drink and laugh with the likes of them. “I prefer quieter pursuits, such as enriching my knowledge. The great library is a special favorite of mine.”

“Indeed, I have seen you there myself,” Caranthir said, thinking this explained why Melkor was there at the same time as him. “The solitude and the smell of books are quite wonderful, are they not?”

“Yes,” Melkor agreed, smiling. “They are quite refreshing indeed.”

He invited the Elven Lord to join him for a meal. Alas for Caranthir, he could not tarry for much longer. Maglor had pledged himself to another, and his mother and father had planned a great feast to announce it to the others.

“Lady Indilien is a fine lady, to be sure,” he went on to add, “and everyone is quite pleased with my brother’s choice of bride.”

“Everyone but you, that is?”

“My brother is a prince of the Noldor,” Caranthir answered disdainfully, “and his lady is of low birth. Still, I suppose, it is better than him marrying one of the Teleri, like that half-uncle of mine did.” 

“A prince of such a great House must be mindful of those he invites into his inner circle.” Melkor took care not to overreach his aim. Caranthir was easy to anger and easy to drive away. His plans would still come for naught if he took one misstep even now. “It is well and good that you see it this way. Farewell, Lord Caranthir. I will not keep you here any longer.”

“Farewell, my lord,” said Caranthir. He was pleased to see that Melkor thought the same way as him, for those such as the children of Fëanor had to take care with those they invited into the family. “Until we meet again.”

Caranthir never ceased his visits to the gardens of Tirion, having been intrigued by the Vala he met. He always came when it was devoid of elves and Ainur, and he always came alone. Melkor made certain to be there, seated upon the same marble bench and feigning to admire the starlit indigo and lilac skies, when he arrived and found him.

They talked, and of many things. Caranthir’s ambitions, his thirst to be as known as his brothers, Maedhros and Maglor, and Celegorm and Curufin, his mother and father, and his aspirations when it came to marriage. And Melkor listened to it all, counseling him, guiding him, and steering him down the path he wished for him to follow.

“Hunting and crafting and singing and playing at statecraft is all well and good,” he opined many a day later, after they sat down beneath the still leaves of a mighty oak and indulged in a light supper Melkor had prepared and brought with him to the gardens. It was very good. Fish roasted in herbs with thin disks of fry bread, Caranthir’s favorites. It was another sliver of knowledge Mairon had carefully gleaned from the cook. “And while they may be noteworthy skills, to be sure, they are not the only skills to be had. Has no one spoken to you about this?”

“They have.” Caranthir stopped eating and furrowed his brows in distaste. “Sewing and dancing and poetry and sporting in the arena. I confess, my lord, that while I enjoy such pursuits, I cannot see myself achieving lasting glory with them.”

Because the gifts you possess are middling at best. The Vala said not a word of this. He did not want to insult the elf and prick his pride. Instead, he sought another way to appeal to the elf and his designs for his future. 

“Indeed,” Melkor agreed. “Such unimaginative interests are quite beneath a scion of the noble House of Finwë.” His words were honey, carefully concealing within them the poison he wished to feed to his prey. “There are other skills, my lord Morifinwë; other gifts that could be bestowed upon you. Such things are beyond your wildest imaginings, I am sure. They have been concealed from elves such as yourself in order to keep you shackled to a life of eternal service and your eyes closed to the many glories you could truly achieve. I can help you attain such glory if you like.”

Melkor is full of cunning and treachery. He will no doubt try to trap you with his lies. Those were the words his lady mother and his lord father uttered after Melkor was rebuked before the elves of Tirion and sent away. And each word rang out like a loud bell, warning him of some great and unseen danger.

What if this is another trick of his? he thought, A ploy to get back at father for humiliating him in the full view of others? Am I allowing myself to fall into some sort of trap?

“Is this one of your deceptions?” Caranthir demanded, rising. “Is this all part of some scheme of yours to rake revenge on my father?”

Melkor was perfectly calm, perfectly amiable. “It is no deception, my lord, I assure you.”

The elf was not appeased. “Do you think I am ignorant of all that you have done, my lord?” he snarled. Anger flared in his eyes, hot and sharp, marring his otherwise fair countenance. "You, who my father rightly called the jail-crow of Mandos?” 

Melkor bristled at the insult but maintained his composure all the same. Careful now, he thought, or else all will be lost.

“Forgive me, my lord, for not making myself clearer,” he said, remaining seated. It was another ploy of his to appear humble and contrite. Caranthir had been raised with a prince’s pride, and he did what he could to appeal to it. “I have been thoroughly chastened by my imprisonment and by your lord father, and I consider them lessons well learned. Come, my lord. Sit with me and hear me out. You will see that there is no trickery.”

“I am quite content to stand, my lord.”

“Very well. I have seen you, my Lord Morifinwë. I have seen how you are often by yourself, and I was moved to make myself known to you. And I have heard how you desire to set yourself apart from your brothers, how you wish to be seen as more than just a son of Fëanor. And I know how much you crave the affection of someone worthy of your devotion. Well, here I am, Lord Morifinwë… Moryo… offering all that you desire, and so much more besides. Take my hand, and all that you have envisioned will be made real.”

Caranthir regarded him, his resolve wavering, pondering if Melkor could indeed be trusted, if he would make good on all that he promised.

To have someone such as him for myself, to learn from him, the first and mightiest of the Valar… Oh! There is so much he must know! So much he could teach me! I could finally step away from the shadows cast by others, and make a name for myself. But to join with him, I cannot…

“I see you are still plagued with doubts,” Melkor observed, rising. “So let me show you what you could possess if you heed me.”

He offered his arm, and Caranthir allowed himself to be led down a paved path to a pool gilded in silver and gold. They stood side by side, while the Vala made an elegant gesture with a blackened hand, and the still water rippled as if disturbed by a pebble that had been dropped into it. And Caranthir watched, transfixed, as a vision rose to the surface of the water once it had stilled. 

He saw a mighty keep deep within the bowels of a great mountain, rich in boundless wealth and splendor. Warriors and servants and slaves and mighty beasts roamed freely throughout its many tunnels and passageways, while fires roared in great furnaces and the making of weapons and armor and objects of rare beauty could be seen. Then the water rippled again, and the vision changed. Sprites and fays and other Ainur were seated together in a chamber of dark stone, chanting and swaying, the flames of nearby candles flickering violently with the dark magic they summoned. Shades moved all around them, dreadful spirits that had left the light, and they did as they were commanded, inhabiting the forms of wolves and bats and dead things, allowing themselves to be trapped in vessels of flesh and blood. Caranthir was amazed. To hold such power, to wield the mastery of it, was more than anything he had ever dreamed of. He turned to face Melkor, overawed by what he had witnessed.

“A share of all this I am willing to give you,” Melkor said. He saw golden eyes burn like flames and recognized for himself the slow-creeping hunger for power they concealed. And now that Melkor had found the key, he knew that all he needed to do was to turn it into its proper place, and the fourth son of Fëanor would be his. “All you need to do is accept me into your heart. Accept me, Moryo, and a rich portion of what I have shown, along with my affections, will be yours.”

I would be the first elf to willingly join his cause. Nevertheless, Caranthir still dithered. To accept one such as Melkor meant to stray from the path of light and from his kin. If he left, if he pledged himself to darkness, he would never be able to return to the Blessed Realm nor see his family again.

“You still waver,” Melkor remarked, hiding his sense of triumph. Caranthir was nearly there. All he needed was a gentle shove in the right direction, and Melkor knew exactly how to do it. “Here, Moryo. Let me offer you another morsel of what you could enjoy once you pledge yourself to me.”

Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed Caranthir on the mouth. He kissed the elf for a long while, and then he growled in triumph when his new-found follower clutched desperately at his robes, sighing and kissing him back with something akin to raw hunger. Caranthir had indeed been hungry, and he feasted like an elf that had denied a great many things for an age. His kiss became mostly teeth and tongue, and Melkor more than allowed it. He wrapped his arms around him and offered all that he was willing to give. The elf accepted what was given and yielded easily, growing pliant in the Vala’s embraces and losing himself in Melkor’s smoky fragrance, the welcomed heat of his breath, and the sweet taste of his mouth. And then Melkor drew back, exulting.

Caranthir was his. He could see it in the lust flaring in the elf’s startling eyes.

“That was all so good,” Melkor began, “but it is not enough. Come with me, Moryo, and let me take you somewhere more secluded. I wish to show you the joys of flesh cleaving to flesh.”

What is there for me here, truly? The elf regarded him, then looked over his shoulder at the path he walked down on. What chance is there for me to achieve what I desire if I remain here? And to master the powers that he showed me, to taste more of what he is willing to offer—his knowledge, his body...

When he turned to face him again, a decision had been made.

“Long have I craved to experience this,” he confessed, flushing. “Lead on, my lord.”

Original image: Ed Robertson/Unsplash

[echoing-gravity]

In the double legacy Au how do the gods, montera or Camp react to percies legacy? Does he meet any Northa?

In the Magnus Chase series it's said that Children of Norse gods aren't "detectable" to monsters and gods UNTIL they die. And since Sally's a Legacy of LOKI one of the Norse gods most commonly associated with like misdirection and like avoiding traps (not counting the whole ''i invented the thing that finally caught me'' thing. Please keep nets away from the Jackson family. its like their only weakness. Also Loki being the inventor of nets might have something to do with how Percy was able to host that one Egyptian god, in that one side story, who ALSO invented nets, but that's off topic) the gods just have like, no fucking clue about it. As for the whole legacy of Venus, it's so far down the generational chain that it's barely even noticable, beyond the whole ''singing-charmspeak-siren-powers'' which Sally has basically forbidden/scared?(unintentionally) Percy into never using. By the time anyone (Zeus, Ares, or other ppl who don't like Percy) realizes that Sally's and therefore Percy's heritage is cross-pantheon he's already won the favor of like- ALL the greek minor gods -(did you know that their are over 3100 immortals in the greek-mythos idk how many of that number are gods, compared to like primordials, titans, nymps, giants, and naliads but like that numbers' HUGE)- when he turned down immortality, has the begrudgingly support of Nico's dad, and has like literally saved the world twice. They can't do anything to them without like starting a war. Zeus is like trigger-happy one second from zappo murdering Percy but he CANT because Percy is the Darling. Everyone likes him now, if Zeus were to harm Percy he would have not only both his brothers to deal with but also LITERALLY everyone (minus maybe Athena and Ares) would be out for his blood.

Percy himself doesn't even find out he's a legacy until like after son of Neptune when Venus, says some shit and then his mom tells him what's up after he, Bob, and friendly giant friend get rescued from Tartarus: Ice Age Addition. to help with the final battle. (Speaking of battle Sally helps fight in the battle against Kronos in book 5, with her Seax Knives!(i remembered what her viking weapons was called!))

I have this scene in my head where like Alex Ferrari or however their name is spelt, comes to camp half blood like- 2 weeks post Dirt Fite, because she was told that they need a legacy of loki to help them complete a quest and that legacy was at the camp. and he's arguing with annabeth something like-

"Why would there be a Legacy of Loki HERE?!?!!?!"

"idk, but that's what THEY said"

Percy overhears this and is like 'No.'

'no that is nOt HaPpEnInG'

No you are not taking my mom on a quest when she is 7 months pregnant with his unborn little sister. And ends up joining the quest and that's how they find out cuz Percy asked Alex

"what generation legacy?"

And Alex is like 'why does that matter's and Percy goes off 'cuz either the gods want to force HIS MOM on a quest or they want to take a newborn and... Like...NO!!!' NOT HAPPENING. Percy rage.exe happens, there might have been an earthquake. Alex points out that Percy can just go instead. Nico is also their and ends up tagging along. He is still mad about the whole Percy saving Nico via 'distracting him with a kiss and shoving him in the elevator' in Tartarus thing. (Percy has been avoiding the subject, but now can't cuz they are stuck on a quest together) shenanigans insue.

[witchofthesouls]

Your "June Darby is Megatronus AU" is really neat! Do you have any new thoughts about/for it?

Oh God, I have so many thoughts about the concept of "June Darby is Megatronus Prime."

Honestly, this idea boils down to this thought : What are other Aspects and traits of Megatronus Prime that could have been explored?

I have talked about Megatronus Prime and his possible roles and Aspects: Chaos, Wild, Instincts, Passion, Ritual Madness, and Death. The Thirteen Primes seem to pull a lot of inspiration from the Age of Antiquity and creation myths.

In the canon information, these Primes would form triads amongst each other to complete a mission or goal. The curious thing is there isn't much about Megatronus and his triads, besides the hints of him, Solus, and Liege Maximo.

I bring this up because by the same information, he's viciously ruthless, delusional, paranoid, and incredibly hot-tempered. But yet he was once trusted by Prima (his dark counterpart) and the lover of Solus (the tragedy that surrounds the two lovers)?

History is formed by its victors, so after Megatronus' self-exile, Liege Maximo's death, and Solus' transformation into the Well of Allsparks as well as the death or travels of other friendly Primes, there aren't any to vocally oppose his characterization.

(Prima did not trust Solus either. Read into that as you will.)

I am a proponent that there was something else behind the scenes of the Death of Solus. I think she had something in her mind and Megatronus was key to making it come true...

And then he was gone and everything was off the rails.

Why was he the only confidant of her plan? Because he was ruthless to carry out everything and anything if he was convinced it was the only way.

When Megatronus Fell and became a Primordial deity of Earth, the old chains and broken perceptions of the old pantheon were gone. The once Megatronus could follow their own instincts without anyone deriding their placement. Earth sings of Conflict and Chaos, so its inhabitants follow its call.

The process of Megatronus to June would be a slow one over eons in the making.

In one world where "Megatronus is June," she had forgotten who and what she was. I'm thinking of a cataclysmic event caused by Quintesson invasion that stripped much of herself as a way to defend the planet from them: think of it as a pyrrhic victory. Hiding the planet at the cost of the decline/sealant of magically-inclined Others.

They are still essentially a War deity of the ocean, and War takes on many Aspects. That June is active in the medical field would make sense since it's still her Calling, medicine finds a lot of progress when it comes to warfare: innovation and advancements, both good and terrible. Plus, medical practice tends to be highly chaotic: case-by-case as each patient can show a variety of symptoms and behaviors depending on health and conditions.

In addition, it gives her a form of comfort since Solus and Liege Maximo would have been active in the works of medicine and alchemy as well as her old devout followers.

As for being in the middle of the desert, I think something deeply regrets how everything turned out. That's why she's so fussy, overprotective, and agitated over her son. Deities are territorial creatures. When he was a child, she had far more control and Jack loved spending more time in her lap and by her side. As a teenager, he chafes over restriction and her smothering and needs more space to grow into himself.

Here, she can explore other parts of herself, softer ones, gentler ones. Cybertronians will always remember the bloody wrath of Megatronus, but none of the records will ever describe his laugh, nor his fondness towards bitlets.

I was thinking to make Jack the son of Solus and Liege, but I scrapped that and made him a child of Earth, like another tether binding the once Megatronus to his new home, another separation between him and Cybertron.

Until Jack gets involved with the Autobots...