#i imagined this happening near the end of her mortal life but this can be whenever really | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fatecantstopme · 2 years

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could make an imagine where reader fem is a goddess or an immortal being who is caught and imprisoned along with morpheus and after a century spent in that bubble with the infinite being and keeping each other company, she created affection for the same however free now she she doesn't know if dream wants her by his side, since now he has responsibility and a kingdom to rebuild, and she has a lost century to chase.🤗🤗

A/N: Okay, I love this idea...hope you do too! 💜

My Hope

Pairing: Morpheus x immortal!reader

Summary: Reader is an immortal who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and was captured alongside Morpheus when Roderick Burgess cast his spell to imprison death. The two form a bond during their century of captivity, but what happens after they're free?

Warnings: Angst (obvi), and definitely a fluffy ending. Discussions of captivity and Jessamy's death.

You were walking down a dark road at night, completely alone, with not a single concern for your safety. You often took walks late at night to ease your mind and help you sleep. You had lived far longer than any of your human companions could ever dream, but such a life took its toll on you. The loneliness had begun to creep in after a lifetime of losing everyone you had ever loved, again and again, with no end in sight.

You were nothing special, not a goddess or a powerful being of any kind. You were once mortal, but you had been granted a gift long ago by a woman you had befriended, the only woman who had managed to live as long as you. You had known her as Teleute, though others would call her Death.

You had been sick, dying, and Teleute had come to you in the moments preceding what should have been your death. She was your friend and you knew her well, but in that moment, you saw her for what she was. Unlike many of the people she had guided in her Endless life, you were not afraid, not of her, nor of the Sunless Lands. Although it was her duty, Teleute could not bring herself to watch your life come to a close. Instead, she gifted you immortality, the chance to live endless lives, the opportunity to spread your warmth and compassion to countless others in the coming centuries.

It was a gift you did not waste, nor did you wish to return it, but it had become a heavy burden at times like these. Moments when you laid to rest someone you had loved, whether it be friend or lover, it hurt all the same.

This particular evening, you wandered the dark streets, plagued by memories of those you had lost, sleep a distant dream. Just up ahead, you heard voices, one sounded frightened, but it was the other that caught your attention. The voice was impossibly deep, and it carried with it an authority you felt deep in your bones. The voice reminded you of black velvet, thick and luxuriously laid across your skin, warming you from the outside in.

As you neared the source of the voices, you suddenly felt a strange pull, and the world around you disappeared. You landed with a painful thud on a cold concrete floor, in a place you did not recognize. When your eyes fluttered open, you saw several people standing around you, and a cloaked figure lying on the floor beside you. You watched in horror as they removed each item of clothing from the figure, including a helmet of sorts, a leather pouch, and what appeared to be a ruby necklace. When all was stripped away, the figure of a man laid bare before you.

Though you did not know him, anger rippled through you at the cruel and careless treatment shown to him. "Who are you?" you angrily demanded of the man you deemed to be in charge.

"I am Roderick Burgess, the Magus, and I have captured Death."

You let out a hoarse laugh. "I do not know who this man is, but I can assure you he is not Death, nor, for the record, am I."

The man, Burgess, did not look convinced. "My spell brought you both to me, so if you are not Death, then who are you?"

You shrugged. "No one of consequence, at least not to you. So it seems your spells may need a bit of work."

He leaned in closer to you, careful to avoid the circle that surrounded you, a circle, you quickly realized, that was a boundary spell. "Perhaps some time alone in the darkness will soften you a bit. I have demands that one or both you must meet if you wish to see the light of day again." He paused, then gestured towards his acolytes. "But first, you will be stripped of your belongings, much like your friend."

To your horror, several men grabbed at your clothing and quickly rid you of it, down to nothing but your slip. You shivered in the cold, most of your skin bare for everyone to see, feeling the flames of rage settle into your bones. "You will pay for this disgrace, Roderick Burgess, of that, I promise you."

He did not seem bothered by your words, instead letting out a barked laugh as he walked away, his acolytes trailing behind him.

Your anger dissipated slightly when the spectators had left, turning instead to concern for the being laying next to you. You had nothing to cover him with, though you desperately wished for even a scrap of cloth you could share with him. He had to be cold, lying bare against in the concrete floor. "Are you alright?" you asked softly.

The man did not respond, but you could see the rise and fall of his chest, assuring you he was alive. "My name is (Y/N)," you said gently, just in case he could hear you. "I do not know why we are here, nor where exactly here is, but I will not leave you. I offer you what protection I can and I offer the promise of my companionship for as long as we are bound to this place."

While the man did not respond, you had a distinct feeling he could hear every word you said. His tense form seemed to relax slightly as you spoke, the obvious pain in his muscles seeming to fade away little by little.

Hours passed, how many, you did not know, but the man beside you never stirred, never woke. What you were unaware of was what was happening just above your heads, in the office of Roderick Burgess...

**********

"He is Dream of the Endless," The Corinthian said.

"And what of the woman?" Burgess asked.

Corinthian looked confused. "What woman?"

"I captured a woman with him. She will not tell me who she is."

"Was she wearing an ankh necklace?"

"No."

"Hmm...then I am unsure of who she is. My apologies. But I would recommend placing her in the same cell as Dream, to be safe."

"Cell?"

Corinthian sighed. He was surprised that a man as dense as Burgess had managed to capture an Endless, but pleased nonetheless. "Yes, a cell. An orb of sorts. Do exactly as I say and he will never escape."

**********

Down in the dungeon, you watched as men built a giant glass sphere, a sphere you assumed was intended for you and your companion, a companion who still had not woken. Much to your dismay, and perhaps your annoyance, you were correct in your assumption.

Your companion was unceremoniously tossed into this sphere upon its completion and though you fought with all your strength, you were tossed in along with him. You sat at the edge of the sphere, legs pulled up to your chest, desperately attempting to cover as much of yourself as you could with the tiny slip dress you wore. Your companion was curled up in the other corner, pain evident in his features, and you felt the rage build up in you again.

"You're a monster," you said to Burgess as he entered the room.

He laughed. "Perhaps, but if you give me what I want, I will free you."

"It does not matter what you wish for, I cannot give it."

"The you had better hope your friend can, or you will die in this glass cage, here in my dungeon."

You did not speak, choosing instead to level a steely glare at the man who had imprisoned you. Something in your gaze clearly frightened him, and he quickly left the dungeon, but not before ordering two of his men to stay behind and watch you.

You chose to ignore the men who stared at you, clearly trying to get a sneak peak at your body beneath the thin slip you wore. You instead turned your attention to the man beside you, whispering words of encouragement in his direction. You were worried about him, fearing the worst, but his chest still rose and fell rhythmically, at least for the moment.

**********

You were unsure how much time had passed when the man beside you finally stirred. You felt his presence more strongly than you had before, as if his soul had just now returned to his body. He was slow to move, as if each movement caused him pain, and your heart ached for him.

"Are you alright?" you asked gently, voice a soft murmur.

His gaze turned to you and you inhaled sharply. His eyes were deep pools of blue, but there was a distinct ethereal quality about them that took your breath away. You might have been nothing special, but there was certainly something special about the being beside you.

He did not speak, at least not audibly, but you heard a gentle voice inside your head, a voice you instantly recognized. "I am weak, but alive, thanks to your kindness."

It was the voice you had heard the night you were captured, the one that you felt inexplicably drawn to. "My name is (Y/N)," you whispered.

"I am Dream of the Endless," his voice replied in your head.

Hearing his name brought back memories, memories of your dear friend. "I know your sister, Teleute."

Surprise lit up his features and he eyed you closely. His voice was hesitant as he spoke in your mind, "You know of Death?"

You nodded. "She has been my friend for centuries. I live only because she allowed it."

Realization crossed his face, remembering his sister describing the woman she had gifted immortality to. He had never met her, but he felt as though he knew her simply through Death's stories. He did not know how to relay that information to you without verbal words in his current state. He was barely strong enough to speak short sentences within your mind.

As if you understood what he was thinking, you placed a gentle hand against his and whispered, "Rest now, we can speak later."

He appreciated your kindness, but also the warmth of your hand against his. He nodded and leaned back against the cold glass, eyes closing again.

You felt instinctively protective of Dream, in part because of your connection with Death, but also because much like Death had spoken to Dream of you, she had also told you about him. He was every bit as she had described him, though smaller and more fragile than you had expected. You realized it was likely because everything had been taken from him, things he relied upon for strength and power. You knew there was not much you could do for him in the way of protection, but you silently vowed that you would do everything in your power to ensure you both got out of this alive.

**********

The years passed by, Dream never speaking a word aloud, Burgess never backing down from his demands, and you refusing to give Burgess the satisfaction of your emotional reactions. You were as silent as the Endless beside you, but when Burgess left, you would speak softly to the dream lord, and he would reply in your head.

As time passed, he grew strong enough to speak long, slow sentences in your mind, telling you of his home, The Dreaming, and of the dream folk who resided there. He spoke of Lucienne, his librarian, and of Jessamy, his beloved Raven.

There were moments, when he spoke, that is eyes seemed to glow with starlight. It was a beautiful sight, but it never lasted more than a moment, the realization of his predicament always dampening any glimmer of hope he held in his soul.

Unbeknownst to you, he had found hope in you. You were like a light in the darkness, keeping him from falling into complete despair. Your soft words and your gentle reassurances were enough to keep him going despite the hell you both remained in.

One morning, much to your surprise, and to his, you heard the sound of wings flapping outside the sphere. When you looked up, you saw a beautiful raven with a patch of white on her chest and you knew instantly this was Jessamy, Dream's beloved raven companion.

Dream's face lit up for the first time in years. You saw the hope in his eyes and the pure delight at seeing his friend. Jessamy frantically pecked against the glass, desperately trying to break it and set her master free.

As the glass began to crack, you heard a loud gunshot ring out and the beautiful bird fell to the floor, bloody and broken.

You felt Dream's pain and your heart broke for him, and for his sweet raven. When your eyes fell on the man--no, boy--who had committed this heinous act, you felt a venomous rage build up within you.

As the boy's father yelled at him and demanded he clean up the mess he'd made, you sat silent beside the dream lord, like two statues refusing to show emotion.

When the boy and his father left, leaving the two of you alone with your guards, you turned to Dream, expression soft and sad. "Dream?" you asked gently.

He turned to look at you, eyes haunted and filled with unshed tears.

You did not ask for his permission, you simply wrapped him in a hug and held him close. He would not cry, you knew, but you would not let him mourn alone.

After several minutes, the dream lord laid down beside you and placed his head in your lap. Your fingers ran through his soft hair, soothing him as he closed his eyes and tried to rid himself of the painful image forever burned in his mind.

**********

It had been 50 years since the two of you had been imprisoned when things began to change between you both. Your companionship had long-since turned to friendship, but now was blossoming into something more. Every time you spoke or looked his way, Dream felt a warmth in his chest he hadn't felt in centuries. And you relished in the sound of his voice resonating in your mind, and in the way his eyes held your gaze, unspoken emotions swimming deep within them.

You had told him of your life, the good and the bad, and you had spent most of the last 50 years wide awake, whether you wanted to or not. Dream had noticed this several years prior and asked you if you wished to sleep. At the time, your answer had been no, you had not wished to relive your life's worst moments, but now, after the passage of so much time, you were exhausted. Your mind had been foggy for ages, a fog Dream was painfully aware of every time he spoke words into your mind.

"Perhaps I can gift you a peaceful sleep? One lacking in any dreams at all," he spoke softly in your mind.

His words barely registered at all and you said nothing. Dream felt a deep worry in his heart and he reached out again. When you still did not reply, he reached a hand out and placed it against your arm, rousing you from your trance-like state.

You turned your head to look at him and he once again asked you if you would like to sleep. This time, you nodded your head and he closed his eyes, taking a moment to gather what little strength he had. He could not do much in his current state, but he was determined to give you this.

You slowly closed your eyes and drifted off into a silent, dreamless sleep, a gift from the lord of dreams himself. Your body went limp and you slumped against his shoulder, breath deepening as you relaxed into a peaceful slumber.

Dream's body tensed at first at the feeling of your head against his shoulder, but he soon relaxed, enjoying the feeling of your body so close to his.

You slept for days, a deep, restful sleep you had not realized you were so desperately in need of. When you finally awoke, you found yourself cradled against Dream's chest, the gentle beating of his heart soothing your worried mind.

You did not wish to alert him to your waking, but he felt it all the same. He was, after all, the god of sleep. "Did you sleep well?" he asked in your mind, a mind that was much sharper and clearer than it had been in years.

"I did, yes," you lifted your head and looked up into his eyes, surprised at the deep emotion you saw within them. If you had not known better, you would have described those beautiful pools as affectionate, even loving. "Thank you," you whispered.

"It was my pleasure."

**********

Another 50 years passed and by this point, you were starting to lose hope that you would ever escape. Your only pleasure was the companionship you had gained over the last century. The dream lord was unlike any being you had ever met and you'd found yourself falling in love with him, despite the terrible situation you were in.

You had not said a word to him, nor would you, at least not while in captivity. You did not want him to think you cared for him only because he was all there was. Now that you knew him, truly knew him, you knew that was exactly the way he would think.

On this particular day, Alex and his husband, Paul, had come to visit you one last time. As they left, Paul broke the boundary spell that had held you both for a century. He turned and gave you a look of acknowledgment before leaving the dungeon for the final time.

Your eyes met Dream's in a hopeful glance and he inclined his head slightly to acknowledge you. He knew what you were asking without speaking and he answered without words.

You watched as the scene unfolded before you. You did not know what images Dream had placed into the guard's mind, all you knew was that the glass was broken and you were finally free.

Dream took your hand and you felt the power in his veins that had been missing for a century. He was suddenly clothed, his long cloak returning to him. He turned to you and placed a soft kiss against your forehead as you stood there in the dungeon, bullets flying around you. You felt warm clothes cover your body and your eyes locked onto the dream lord's face. You knew what he was doing, and you did not fault him for it.

When he was finished, his eyes fluttered open and he pulled you in close, holding you tightly before you both disappeared, leaving the waking world entirely.

You landed in what felt like soft sand, but you could not figure out where you were. There was a breeze and the sound of waves, but you could not feel Dream's body any more.

You heard the sound of a voice you did not know and then you heard the warmth of Dream's voice covering you like waves on the beach. "Dream?" you called out.

"I am here," he said softly, reaching down to help you to your feet.

Your eyes adjusted to your new surroundings, seeing light for the first time in a century. You looked around, taking in what really did appear to be a beach, and a giant walled...city? Memories came flooding back to you and you realized this was Dream's home. "The Dreaming," you said in awe.

Dream smiled at you warmly. "Welcome, (Y/N), to my realm."

Your eyes landed on a woman you knew instantly, though you had never met. "You must be Lucienne," you said warmly.

The librarian looked surprised. "You know me?"

You looked up at Dream. "We had some time to talk..."

He winced slightly, but nodded his agreement. He began to walk towards the massive gates, you following behind him, and Lucienne just behind you.

"Sir?" Lucienne called.

Dream turned to her. "What is it, Lucienne?"

"The Dreaming sir, it is not as you left it."

"What do you mean?"

She gestured to the gates. "See for yourself."

The gates opened as if they sensed their master. When you saw what laid beyond them, you gasped in surprise.

Dream turned to Lucienne and whispered, "Who did this?"

Lucienne explained that The Dreaming had simply deteriorated over the century he had been gone...and that most of the dream folk had long since left.

Your heart immediately went out to Dream, the pain on his face evident as he took in the remains of his home. You stepped forward and slipped your hand into his, a gentle reassurance as well as a reminder that you were there for him, whatever he needed.

Although he did not speak, he was incredibly thankful to have you by his side, to give him strength when all seemed hopeless. But to you, the outside observer, all you could see was cold sorrow, none of the warmth that he had shown you over the years.

"I must gather my tools and rebuild," he said simply, a fierce determination lacing his voice. He pulled away from you and began to walk towards what remained of his palace, a king on his way to a broken throne.

You turned to look at Lucienne, seeking some sort of guidance, or perhaps comfort, in her eyes. What you saw was a piercing sadness, not just for The Dreaming, or for Dream himself, but for you. In her eyes, you saw her view of Dream, the cold, distant ruler of a dying realm.

You looked at Dream's retreating form and you saw it too, for the first time in a century, you saw the coldness that Dream showed the rest of the world. You had hoped that your years together in captivity, and the love that had seemingly grown between you, would form an everlasting bond between the two of you. It seemed, at least from your view, that perhaps you had misjudged the dream lord, and a deep sadness settled into your soul, unlike any you had yet faced.

**********

Dream seemed to forget about you as he went about trying to collect his tools so he could return to his former strength and rebuild his realm.

The more effort he put into his search, the more distant he became. Until a time in which you decided that you could not live this way, a mere shadow of the past living in a cold, unwelcoming present. So you left The Dreaming, returning once again to the waking world, in search of the hope you had once found in the lord of dreams.

Dream noticed your absence immediately and sought Lucienne for explanation. "Where is she?" he asked when he found the librarian conducting her census.

"Where is who, my lord?"

"(Y/N)."

Lucienne was surprised at the tone of hurt in her master's voice as he spoke your name. "Well, my lord, I believe she returned to the waking world."

"Why? Is The Dreaming not to her liking? I am doing my best to restore it, but I do not have my ruby as of yet and I feel I cannot complete my tasks until I have it."

"No, my lord, it is not The Dreaming she took issue with."

Dream looked confused and he shook his head passionately. "Then what could have possibly driven her away?"

Lucienne was quiet, afraid to upset her master further.

"Please, Lucienne, if you know something, speak."

"Sir, you have been very busy, both with the rebuilding of the kingdom and the search for your tools." She paused. "Perhaps you have been a bit too busy."

His look was pure annoyance...the audacity of her to think that he would have ever forgotten about you... Realization dawned on his face and his expression softened tremendously. "I have neglected her in my haste to repair the damage caused by my absence."

Lucienne nodded slowly, allowing Dream to come to his own conclusions.

"She was by my side through every moment of the last century, every painful part of it, she was there like a guiding light, the brightest soul I have ever encountered. How could I have let her feel this way? As if she is unimportant to me."

Lucienne knew better than to answer his question. It was not really meant for her anyway. "Perhaps, my lord, you should seek her out in the waking world?"

He knew the search for his ruby should take priority, but his heart ached at your absence. He did not wish to return to a realm without you in it, regardless of the presence of all his tools. "I believe you are right, Lucienne. I must find her."

Lucienne was slightly surprised that he admitted she was right, but she could not help but feel joy that he wished to seek you out.

"Can you, I mean, in my absence will you--?" Dream could not seem to find the words he wanted.

Lucienne smiled. "Of course, my lord."

He knew she would understand, as she always did. He pulled a small handful of sand from his pouch and disappeared into the waking world, desperate to find the hope he had lost.

**********

It felt good to be in the waking world, to be free to do whatever you wished. You loved the way the sunlight felt against your skin, the breeze in your hair...all the things you had missed in your century of captivity. None of it, however, could fill the emptiness in your heart, emptiness only a certain Endless could fill.

You were sitting on a park bench, enjoying the beautiful summer day, when you noticed someone sit down beside you. You did not need to turn your head to know who it was. "Teleute," you said warmly. "It has been far too long."

"Indeed it has. How are you, (Y/N)?"

You turned to look at your friend, her expression telling you she knew exactly how you were doing. "I spent the last century in captivity, Death. How do you think I am?"

Death winced at your tone and you sighed, feeling bad for snapping at her. She did not deserve such venom...she was not the Endless you were upset with. "My apologies, Teleute."

Death waved off your apology. "Unnecessary. I understand why you would be upset. You have every right to be."

"In all honesty, it is not the captivity that has me in this mood."

"Ahh," Death said as she sat back against the bench. "The moodiest of all the Endless got to you too?"

Your head whipped towards her, surprise evident in your expression. "Excuse me?"

Death smiled. "My dear brother, Dream. I assume he is the cause of your mood?"

"How do you know...?"

"Oh, please, (Y/N). You should know by now...I know everything."

You shook your head. "I think that is unlikely, Teleute, even for you. You know, Burgess was looking for you when he captured us."

Death nodded, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I know."

"I will not ask you why you did not help us. I think that is something I already know. I also understand why Burgess was able to capture Dream, but why me? What did I have to do with it? I'm not an Endless."

"It is nothing more than a theory, but I believe that is entirely my fault. When I saved your life, granted you immortality, I left a piece of my soul with you. That small piece of me lives within you, and I believe is what caused you to be snared by his spell."

You allowed yourself a moment to absorb her words. Her theory made sense, but it did not provide you much comfort. "100 years is a long time, even for an immortal," you began softly. "I cannot even begin to imagine how terrible it would have been to spend those years alone. While I would give anything for Dream to have never experienced such agony, I am glad to have been there with him."

Death laid her hand on yours. "I am sure he feels the same way."

You gave her a look that clearly voiced your disagreement. "If he felt the same way, do you think I would be moping on this park bench in the middle of London?"

Death chuckled. "My brother is moody at the best of times, and downright sullen at the worst. It may take him a moment or two to realize he cannot be that way with you, but I do think he will come to that realization. You are good for him, and I think, perhaps, he could be good for you." As if sensing something, Death stood suddenly. "I must go, (Y/N)."

You stood and gave her a hug. "Do not be a stranger, Teleute."

"Never," she said with a smile. "Do not give up on him. He is a pain in the behind, but his love is worth it. I promise." With that, Death disappeared as if she had never been there at all.

You sat back down on the bench, mulling over your friend's words. You desperately wanted to believe her, but if she was right, then where was Dream now?

As if you had personally summoned him, the dream lord himself appeared on the bench beside you, jolting you out of your thoughts. "Good lord!" you yelped.

He winced. "My apologies, I did not intend to startle you."

"Well then do not magically appear beside people without warning, Dream." You placed a hand over your heart and slowly calmed your breathing. "If I were a mortal, you could have given me a heart attack."

"Thankfully, you are not."

You turned to look at him and were surprised to find a sadness in his eyes. A sadness that mimicked your own. "How did you find me?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you truly think there is anywhere you could go where I would not feel you?"

Your lips parted in surprise and words failed you. "I--uh--well, I--"

He turned his body to face you, tentatively reaching out to take your hand in his. "I wish to know why you left."

"You were a bit preoccupied with more important things than me, Dream."

"Nothing is more important than you. Not me, nor my tools, nor even my realm. You are the part of me I have always sought, without even realizing it. You are the light to my darkness, the other half of my soul that I have yearned for throughout all of space and time. You are the hope that saved me in the darkest moments of my life, and for that I will treasure you always."

If you had a hard time speaking before, you were completely mute now, as if words were utterly foreign to you. You simply stared at the man in front of you in stunned silence. A silence so long, he began to worry.

"(Y/N)?" he asked softly. "Have I upset you?"

"Gods, no," you said quickly, recovering from your moment of muteness. You took both of his hands in yours and gave them a loving squeeze. "You simply took me by surprise, Dream."

"Will you call me by my name?" he asked softly, eyes filled with hope.

You looked confused. "Is Dream not your name?"

"It is, but much in the way you know Death as Teleute, I wish you to know me by my name."

"What name would that be?"

"Morpheus," he replied.

"I should have known that," you said with a chuckle. "Morpheus. Hmm, I quite like it."

He blushed slightly. "Thank you. I enjoy hearing you say it."

"Then I will have to remember to say it often," you paused dramatically before leaning forward and whispering, "Morpheus."

His body shuddered involuntarily and you grinned. He gave you a warning look, but you were much too happy to care.

"May I ask you something?" he asked suddenly.

"Of course."

"Is there any way, any world, any universe, in which you might feel the same?"

If Morpheus did not know you, you would worry he might think you were a bumbling idiot. You were once again stunned to silence by the dream lord's words...as if there was a universe in which you did not feel the same.

"First, stop saying things that render me speechless," you insisted. "Second, do you really need to ask? I would walk through Hellfire for you, Morpheus. There is not a battle I would not fight, nor a danger I would not face, if it meant protecting you. You are my heart, in every meaning of the word."

Now it was his turn to be speechless. Though he was much quicker to recover than you. "I am undeserving of such adoration, beloved, but I shall do everything in my power to earn it."

You smiled and gently touched his cheek. "You already have, my love. You already have."

#morpheus x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #morpheus x reader fluff #fluff #angst #dream of the endless #morpheus

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 9 months

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Hello, my dear, I see that your requests are open so may I throw in my own request?

Okay here it is... how about a fic where reader is moving in with Loki in the Asgardian palace and she gets lost somewhere and starts wandering endlessly before she finds a door and beyond the door, she finds Loki!

I purposefully left the details of what is behind the door out so you could do it! Could be a garden, just his rooms or a secret portal to a comfort place! Let your imagination run wild!

I love you and your work!

~LRM

“An Oasis”- A Prince!Loki x Reader one shot

Summary: Prince Loki brought you to Asgard as his lover in order to protect you from the looming threat of Midgard’s destruction. Unfortunately, the end of your world may be less terrible than the taunts and sneers of the jealous Asgardians targeting you for being brought into their pristine, perfect, eternal realm. Lost and afraid, you find yourself desperate for comfort, for solace, perhaps for a place where you can be fully alone to enjoy Loki’s affections…

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Reader Genre: Angst, fluff Content Warning: Detailed descriptions of war and speculative IRL apocalyptic events, Reader is heavily bullied (specifically, fatphobia), getting physically lost, descriptions of panic attack symptoms, angst, fluffy ending Word Count: 2.9k

When the bombs began to fall around your home, you couldn’t believe your fortune, as silly as it sounded, for it just so happened that you were in love…

…and love would ultimately save your life.

Loki, Prince of Asgard and occasional visitor to Earth (or Midgard, as he called it), had discovered you, alone in the world and working a dead-end job, and found himself fascinated with a mortal for the first time in his life. You could keep him engaged with deep conversation for days without rest, and in turn, he amused you with his wit and flirtations.

Of course, his looks didn’t hurt either. You weren’t sure if it was his shiny, cascading black hair that glistened in the sun, or his radiant grin that somehow could be inviting and threatening all at once, or his musculature, promising safety or sensual delight depending on what you asked for. Perhaps it was how he chose to dress in tight leather leggings and dazzling armor whenever he was in public, like a proud peacock bragging his aesthetic superiority to the entire city. Whatever feature it was that finally triggered your need for his touch, you quickly lost track of the blurring world around you as your bond with Loki tumbled deeper and deeper into love before you knew it.

Meanwhile, the world around you was crumbling, a decaying testament to the follies of humanity. The missiles became stronger, the discourse more extreme. Russia had shoved through Ukraine (to much global weeping), and now they’d decided to try on Romania for size. In the States where you lived, the extreme right-wing parties had succeeded in warping the federal system to ensure their constant supermajority in DC, and now they were nearing completion on turning your country into a theocracy.

The sweeping love story you had with the Prince of Asgard was your inner sanctum, and you were thankful, for most others didn’t have such a profound shelter in the bosom of their true love to retreat to at night.

However, Loki had one day had enough.

“I will not see my mistress living and dying under these conditions that stupid mortals have put before her,” he insisted sternly, only quickly answering your questions as he prepared you for a new life in his palace. On the news, things had escalated in Europe, and now the government was handing out brochures and advisory messages about fallout shelters and life after an apocalyptic event. You and Loki hadn’t said as much to one another, but you both knew the missiles were coming, and that Midgard’s days were numbered.

Finally, two missiles had launched, and one had landed less than three hundred miles from your city. It was that minute, as the people out on the street below your apartment began to scramble in panic, that Loki took you into his arms and called out for Heimdall to open the Bifrost for you. His heavy, muscled arms refused to allow you breath, as if loosening his grip would make you fall through them. You felt him hyperventilate as you traveled through the realms, finally landing at the gates of Asgard to a bewildered gatekeeper.

“My Prince, may I ask who the uninvited mortal may be?” asked Heimdall, his lip twisted in skepticism.

Loki finally released you, aside from your hand which he gripped protectively. “Midgard is falling. She seeks asylum, in my home and in my arms.”

Heimdall sighed heavily. “I suppose I cannot deny my Prince--”

“--then don’t,” Loki asserted with authority.

Heimdall didn’t wince or react, aside from acquiescing with a head bow and a smile in your direction. “Welcome to Asgard, maiden.”

Hence, your life as an emigrant on Asgard began, and Loki saw to it that from Day One, your life was an endless line of luxurious days and decadent nights rolling around on the furs he layered on his bed, the firelight bouncing off of your bare skin, painting your flesh a warm, inviting orange. He knew he had duties to perform, so from the first second, he had his fellow palace-dwellers, the nobles, royals, and high-status companions, keep you company, showing you the palace and the Asgardian way of life while he saw to the endless matters of state a Prince had to address daily.

“I have a lot of back work that I ignored during my time on Midgard with you, sparrow, so I may be scarce for a number of days, if you can mind that,” he warned. You’d just been happy to be there, so you nodded before dragging him to bed, barely minding anything he said.

However, there was one thing even Loki couldn’t control, and it was how the Asgardians treated you while his back was turned. They’d chosen to make it evident that they all disapproved of a pointless little mortal being elevated to a status above theirs. Instead of showing you every nook of the palace to give you a sense of knowing your way around, they purposefully left you out of their daily walks, only knocking on your chamber doors to acknowledge your existences at the most basic level. This meant that after a week, you still were lost the instant you stepped outside of your apartments.

After a few days, they’d grown bold enough to make the taunting verbal.

“Little worthless bitch.” “What a whore.” “She has a spell on him, I’m sure of it.” “I hope the little slut chokes to death on his cock.”

And those were to your back. To your face, they were even worse.

“Could you EAT any more, pig?” laughed one concubine, walking by as you left an empty tray of food outside of your door to be collected. “You may as well take that down to the kitchens yourself. Get any fatter and you’ll be working in the scullery for sure!”

You’d tried to make your way around the palace on your own, but no one would help you when you asked for directions. At best, the servants and nobles ignored you. At worst, they stuck a toe out from under their robes to trip you and chuckle at your clumsiness. This was done to you at least daily.

“His last lover was a dancer with the Asgardian Dancers Guild,” mocked a witness dressed head-to-toe in gold. “And here you plod along like a retired hunting hound! Loki must be out of his skull to want you!”

You didn’t get up for several minutes, ashamed to reveal your reddened face to the small assembly now gathered to watch the confrontation conclude. You waited until the clacking of their heeled shoes and boots subsided, leaving you to slowly withdraw back to your rooms to wait for Loki.

You knew the only way to end your torment would be to tell him of your struggle with the locals, but after just an hour you thought better of it. Would Loki even believe you? Here were his friends, his companions of centuries, and you were his little blip-on-the-radar, guaranteed to die in perhaps seventy years if you were lucky, which was hardly a sneeze to the near-immortal God. You felt as if any word against his friends would be seen as an act of aggression, or perhaps an expression of regret for ever being led to Asgard in the first place.

I should take things gracefully. Perhaps they will grow tired of it and let me be, you hoped. Of course, things got worse as your first few days progressed, and soon, you weren’t sure if you could find shelter in Loki’s heart any more. The negative thoughts quickly became your own, invading your mind at the worst times. You started to crack under the pressure and the taunts.

On the evening of the eighth day, you’d finally had enough. Having rung for supper, you’d open your door to receive your tray just as the two daughters of one of Loki’s sentries threw the contents of the platter at you, the hot food landing all over your skin and robes before you could shut the door again. You could hear the girls giggling and oinking as they skipped away.

Gritting your teeth, you began to shake as you held back tears. Okay, I don’t care if this means going back to a burning ash pile. Home is better than here!

After quickly cleaning up and changing into a loose green robe, you took off down the hall, determined to find Loki’s study no matter where it was, and no matter how lost you became. You were determined to come clean to him, and then to ask him where the hell he’d been this week. If this was how scarce he would be, then why did he even bother bringing you here if he knew he’d be forced to go back to his studies and war rooms while you bore the teasing and abuse at the hands of his friends?

The hallways seemed longer as the shadows of dusk elongated then, giving your path a creepy, unnerving feeling as you become more and more lost in the gilded labyrinth. Your footsteps echoed off the mirrored walls, reminding you of the hallways of Versailles. Your heart began to beat faster against your ribcage, causing your chest muscles to restrict with anxiety.

I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs, or unraveled a ball of yarn…

An hour passed. The sun (or whatever the Asgardians called their source of daylight) set completely, leaving the flickering torches lining the walls your only guiding light. The other nobles walking the halls of the palace retired to their parlor parties and gambling tables, leaving you alone as you realized that you had to be miles from either your chambers or Loki’s.

“L…Loki?” you finally verbalized your fear. “Loki? Darling?!”

You shuffled along, the panic rising in your throat, burning like bile, threatening to spill over into a full attack that would surely send you up against the wall.

I really can’t handle this…what have I gotten myself into??

Tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes. Your skin went red and hot, beads of sweat prickling your forehead as your ears buzzed. You decided before you lost control completely to duck into an empty room to ride it out, and then perhaps said room would have a bell you could use to summon a servant. Then, perhaps you could pull rank and force them to bring you back without a barrage of cruel names for once--

--then you saw it: a crack of bright light escaping from a doorway nearby on your left that was just slightly ajar. Sanctuary!

You threw the door open without peeking inside, slamming it behind you just in time for you to sink to your knees behind it, letting the tears come pouring silently down your cheeks. After a moment, you’d managed to gather yourself enough to get to your feet, and it occurred to you that you may have just burst into someone’s private meeting to cry, which wasn’t going to help your already-abysmal reputation.

You dusted yourself off and got your first look at your chosen hiding place.

It was a library. Easily the grandest you’d ever seen.

You’d entered into an atrium in the center of the circular room, and your eyes first followed three floors of balcony in a continuous spiral rising off the floor and winding against the walls and shelves until it hit a mosaic on the ceiling of winding morning glories along a trellis. The entirety of the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and all were overstocked with tomes, old and new, of every genre, language, and topic you could fathom, plus more. Stacks of books piled the floors as ancient, musty stalagmites. The beauty and scale of the room was enough to make your jaw drop and forget the woes of moments ago.

Directly in front of you, underneath the first floor of the winding balcony, was a pit tucked within an alcove, along the far wall of which was a corner-to-corner fireplace, lit and roaring with flame, in front of two large lounge chairs, a table in between. You wandered over to the alcove and stepped into the pit, and it was instantly remarkable how cozy the reading room was compared to the huge scale of the library outside.

It was everything you’d dreamed your room in Heaven would look like as a kid. I will hide here until I’m ready to find Loki in the morning, you decided. It’s as if this place was made for me…

“Y/N? Dearest? How did you find your way here? I wasn’t quite ready for you!”

Loki appeared behind you, just outside of the alcove, looking pleasantly surprised, at least until you turned around, and he saw your tear-lined face. His face fell, and he opened his arms, stepping inside as you stumbled to meet his embrace.

“They’ve been so mean to me….everyone…” you managed to articulate beyond your sobs. Loki rocked you slowly back and forth, slowly tempering your shakes.

Loki sighed sadly. “I wish you would have told me sooner--”

“--you…you…y--you haven’t been around!” you whispered back. You felt Loki grip you tighter, as tightly as he had the day he brought you away from the carnage of Midgard.

He was silent for a moment. “I hadn’t realized…I’d been busy--”

“--with work, I know, and I’m not mad, I just, they don’t think I’m worthy of you, and--” you began to babble before Loki loosened his hold on you to put a gente finger against your lips, softly pressing against the delicate skin with a ‘shh!’

“I will see to them later, and I assure you they will pay dearly for their insolence,” Loki promised. “But first, an apology, and then, a gift.”

He caressed your damp, hot cheek with a cool hand. “I should not have left you to your own devices as soon as I brought you here. It was thoughtless of me.”

“I don’t even know where in the palace I am, or where my rooms are!” you exclaimed. “They refused to show me anywhere. I got so lost…”

“...if you are ever lost again, know that I will always find you, princess, and that you will always be my equal in worth and splendor,” Loki vowed softly, laying a soft, quiet kiss across your lips that brought your heart rate to a hum. You got the feeling Loki’s kiss would always have this effect on you. “I am deeply sorry, please trust that I will never act so carelessly again.”

You smiled in relief, knowing that in spite of what any Midgardian logic would tell you, your heart knew the earnestness in his promise. “My soul is yours, Prince Loki,” you whispered affectionately, batting your eyelashes with a coquettish air, one you knew he couldn’t resist.

He returned the look with one of his own, one with his signature mischievous twitch along the left corner of his lip, which always gave him away to you. “What?” you asked cautiously.

“Your gift,” he said, backing away from you and taking your hands in his, guiding you out of the alcove and back into the open atrium. Once he placed you in the middle of the room, he stepped away to execute a show-off’s twirl, his open arms gleefully presenting the library to you. “All of this is yours, if you like it.”

You didn’t know what to say, other than pointing around you and nodding. “This? Whole room?”

Loki grinned, the present clearly having the effect on you that he’d hoped for. “And every volume within! I know how you are such a fervent reader, dearest, and I thought you may want a special retreat outside of your chambers, so I took the--”

You stopped his train of thought with a kiss, littered intermittently with a hundred ‘thank yous.’ Loki chuckled at your enthusiastic approval and swept you across the marble floors.

When you finally calmed down enough to take a deep breath and look around again, Loki took the opportunity to make a suggestion. “Shall I show you around, and how everything is arranged? The New York Public Library…um, shall we say…kindly donated these in the hours before the Midgardian Wars began in full,” he explained with a wink.

“You stole from a library?” you asked with mock shock.

Loki ran a finger over your smiling lip. “I stole for a library, princess. Now, where do you want to begin?”

You shook your head. Quickly going over to the nearest pile of books, reaching to your waist, you grabbed the first book, and without looking at the title, pressed it into your lover’s hands. “Read to me in front of the fire,” you asked. “All night.”

He looked at you quizzically. “You don't even know what this book is about?”

You beckoned Loki toward the alcove again. “I don’t care. I just want to hear your voice. Then I’ll know I am forever safe.”

💗 Hi LRM! Sorry this took ages! I'm still struggling a bit with my muses. I hope this satisfies! :) I love you too! 💗

No-Pressure Taggies: @holdmytesseract @lokisgoodgirl @anukulee @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @chantsdemarins @coldnique @joyful-enchantress @kellatron55 @xorpsbane @lovelysizzlingbluebird @gigglingtiggerv2

#loki #fanfiction #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki/reader #loki angst #loki fluff #bullying #asgard #MCU #FLUFF ENDING

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chloe-caulfield94 · 9 months

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Bae is the good ending, actually

I would argue that not only is Bae the good and moral ending, Bay is the evil, immoral and - dare I say - selfish ending.

Let’s start by stating the obvious - the ending choice of Season 1 is a form of trolley problem.

A trolley problem is a type of thought experiment which presents you with a moral problem. The basic parameters are as follows: You find yourself near railroad tracks. There is a main track and a side track. There is a trolley coming down the main track. There are people both on the main track and on the side track. The people standing on the track the trolley is travelling down are in mortal danger. You can’t stop the trolley, or remove people from the track. The only thing you can do is to pull the lever and direct the trolley to the side track, thereby sparing people on the main track, but killing those on the side track.

Obviously, in the scenario we are analysing, the trolley is the approaching storm, the town of Arcadia Bay and all its denizens are located on the main track, Chloe finds herself on the side track and Max can pull the lever to divert the deadly danger from Arcadia Bay towards Chloe by using the photograph to erase the events of the week.

Since the last choice of Season 1 is a trolley problem, I think the moral solution is the same as with all other trolley problems – do nothing and let things happen. Let me explain.

Often, when presented with a trolley problem, people instinctively adopt a utilitarian approach. Utilitarianism is an ethical system which favours actions that decrease the amount of suffering in the world.

If there are two people on the main track and only one person on the side track, the utilitarian solution would be to pull the lever, because two deaths would cause more suffering in the world than one.

If there’s a young person on the main track and an old person on the side track, the utilitarian solution would be to pull the lever, because the young person hasn’t had the chance to live out their life to the fullest yet, so their death would cause more suffering.

If there is a person with a big family on the main track and a lonely person on the side track, the utilitarian solution is once again to pull the lever, because the death of someone who would be missed by many would cause more suffering than the death of someone who wouldn’t be missed by anyone.

I imagine that most people would be instinctively willing to agree with the first solution. Saving two people instead of one person? That makes sense. But I think (or at least hope) that most people would disagree with the next two examples, of the old person and of the lonely person. Who are we to judge who is more “worthy” of life and whose death would cause more suffering? But realize this - when you consider the quantity of lives at stake, your thought process is exactly the same as when you consider their quality.

If you choose to pull the lever in a trolley problem, you have usurped for yourself the right to judge who is more worthy of life. You have usurped for yourself the right to kill the people on the side track. Even if it’s an entire town on the main track and only one person on the side track. When you pull the lever and direct the trolley to the side track, you kill that one person. The fact that you saved the people on the main track doesn't erase that. Ends do not justify the means.

From my point of view, the moral answer to any trolley problem is to do nothing, because no matter how insignificant the life of the person on the side track may seem, nobody has the right to judge them unworthy of life.

A purely utilitarian approach to a trolley problem fails to take into account the substantive difference between letting things happen and actively causing someone’s death.

The final choice is made not on Monday, but on Friday. On Friday, Chloe is no longer in danger. Max can redirect the mortal danger from the town to Chloe, but it requires her action. On Friday, the "natural" course of events which doesn't require any input from Max is for the storm to level the town. If you sacrifice Chloe on Friday, you're killing her. You're pushing her back onto the barrel of Nathan's gun. But if Max sacrifices the town, she's only letting things that have been in motion since Monday proceed. She lets them proceed, because to stop the storm, she would have to kill someone. Max simply refuses to pay such a high price.

Having established the sheer immorality of sacrificing someone "for the greater good", let's move on to the selfish part. If Max sacrifices Chloe, that means she values her guilty conscience more than Chloe's life. That she doesn't want to live with guilt more than she wants to live with Chloe. Notice that when the storm comes, Chloe says it all happens for a reason and it couldn't be any other way. Only when she sees how distraught Max is, she does a 180 and offers her sacrifice. Her offer is mainly motivated by the desire to save Max from her guilt. The selfish thing would be to accept Chloe's sacrifice.

#chloe price #pricefield #max caulfield #life is strange #storm #LiS

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slaythebirdman · 6 months

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post "And? What happens next?" where despite leaving as mortals and not gods both quiet and the princess maintain a little bit of their weirdness. like the princess' appearance and personality still changes at least a little from day to day

💗 love love love this ask. it's perfect since it's the only ending we've gotten so far. also, i've never heard birdie be called the quiet before, so that's neat. i'll address him as such in this post. this also ended up being a bit more than you asked for, but oh well. i also imagined them eventually getting/building a house together!

And? What happens next?

The Princess: -She's... still figuring herself out. Sometimes her appearance will shift depending on how the Quiet sees her. For example, one time, the Quiet forgot to clean the dishes when it was his turn, and when the Princess found out and yelled for the Quiet, she grew horns and her teeth became sharp. Her personality feels like spinning a wheel some mornings, too. There are days where she's softer and more agreeable, kinder with her words and actions, and there are others where she feels more like a goddess that every being should kneel before and beg for their lives, and others still where all she wants to do is fight until she can feel something again... She and the Quiet are both working through these changes together. -She is so over the dresses and is very open to trying other clothes now that she isn't tied down to what the narrative says she should wear. She does eventually lean more into wearing warmer clothes though because: -She's afraid of feeling cold. It terrifies her that one day, those hands will manifest and drag her away from this life they've built for themselves. There are sweaters and warm house slippers lying all over their house, and the Quiet will wrap his wings around her tightly to warm her up if he notices her clutching her arms and looking panicked. The Quiet: -He still catches himself talking to no one and expecting a response in his head. It's... lonely. Unnerving. Even when he's talking with the Princess, there's an uneasy feeling he gets when he asks a question in his head and receives an infinite silence in return. -Along the same vein, ironically, the Quiet has a difficult time dealing with the quiet. It's oppressive, constraining. There always has to be some noise, preferably someone else talking, whether from a podcast or a radio or a television depending on how advanced the technology is in the world you imagine the two stepping into post-game. -His appearance also changes from time to time, though it is nowhere near to the extent of the Princess's changes. It's more subtle, though that doesn't mean it isn't noticeable when he finds himself to be more bony one morning than he was the night before. It doesn't bother him too much, though. -Their house changes as well. Not the outside, just the interior. It's nothing as drastic as before, but the color and pattern of the wallpaper with occasionally shift, and the wooden floorboards will become stone, or linoleum, or carpet. Sometimes the change will happen within a day, and sometimes it takes weeks. When the Quiet comes home and sees the living room looking a bit more... voidy than usual, he knows that the Princess is in a particularly bad mood. -Crows. Something in his chest aches terribly at the sight of them, longing and hurt and regretful. It's bittersweet, though some days it tastes much, much more bitter than it does sweet. -Similarly, the Quiet avoids mirrors at all costs. Not even his reflection, just specifically mirrors. He gets too emotional, too lost in his own head, and it's a worse place to be stuck in now than it was before without anyone in there to talk with. There aren't many mirrors in their house, and the ones they do have, the Princess keeps covered.

#Slay the Princess #STP #STP Imagines #STP Headcanons #Slay the Princess Spoilers #Slay the Princess Headcanons #The Princess #MC x The Princess #MC #STP MC #The Long Quiet #Mod Pink 💗#i've never had a tumblr ask blog before so this is fun and new for me!#hope i didn't make any mistakes (●>ω<)ﾉﾞ #ask

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iheartmyspotify · 1 year

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The Redfields are sleeping over [Resident Evil Contemporary AU]

Claire Redfield x Chris Redfield x GN reader HEADCANONS

A/N: there are NO sexual or romantic themes. Enjoy the good time and have fun reading this! The link to the spotify playlist is on the title.

TW: reader and Chris are the same age (19) and both are nic addicts. Slight mentions of alcohol and cigarettes usage, along with swearing from time to time. If ur not comfortable, feel free to skip the paras that mention this. Btw y'all live in Raccoon City and the outbreak had never happened.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

⛧ your parents are on a business trip this weekend and allowed Chris and Claire to sleepover as much as they want

⛧ you guys had planned this moment for weeks already

⛧ ''No sleeping bags allowed and NOBODY sleeps on the floor. My bed is big enough for all of us!''

⛧ even if Claire is six years younger than you, her presence doesn't bother you at all. she's actually like a little sister to you and spending the weekend together has never sounded this good!

⛧ using the money you all put up together, Chris went out the night before and bought the snacks. he also managed to sneak in a few beer cans, a whole 34oz bottle of vodka and some other stuff that if Claire finds out about, she'll tell her parents and her big brother is going to be in some big big shit

⛧ the night starts straight wild. The neighbours come by from time to time, but after the third visit you decided to just ingore the loud pounds on the door.

⛧ Chris comes closers to you and whispers ''I had to suck some good dick to get these without and ID.'', then passes you a pack of Dunhill Blues. His words made you laugh your lungs out.

⛧ Just Dance, Mortal Kombat and Karaoke made your whole night

⛧ your and Chris' special song is Telephone by Lady Gaga. No one else is allowed to sing it. He sings Beyoncé's part and you Gaga's

⛧ the music y'all chose is such a vibe i swear

⛧ Chris made the playlist and you sent the songs

⛧ he's a sucker for oldies, especially Modern Talking and y2k europop

⛧ Jill comes over after you told her to and she spent the friday night with you all

⛧ while smoking on the balcony, trying do hide from Claire, she finds you and Chris outside and threatens her big bro she'll tell mom if he won't let her do his makeup

⛧ you locked the doors, Jill cuffs his hand and feet with some scarfs and Claire makes the magic happen

⛧ he's so slay istg😻 claire took the photo and sent it to their family group chat

⛧ Claire gets bored first and goes to sleep around 3AM the second night

⛧ you and Chris insert the big ass speakers from the living room into the bedroom and blast machinegun sounds to wake her up. She stars crying on the spot

⛧ y'all get hungry and try cooking some fancy meal, but you ended up almost burning the kitchen

⛧ around 5AM the deep thoughts start to kick in, so you go out and things get serious. No laughs, no jokes, just sentimental moments that bond your friendship even more

⛧ ''So? Did you guys had fun this weekend?'' your parents ask.

''Eh, it was alright."

⛧ whatever happened those nights it's in the past and it should never be brought up, especially near your parents.

__________________________________________________________

ㅤIdk about you, but I had so much fun writing this. I always imagine how nice life would be if I had a sleepover from time to time with the Redfields. Also, they've been through so much pain that i hope that in a paralel universe they get to party and relax all of the time.

ㅤI hope you enjoyed it and please don't hesitate to request me anything you want. I love recieving ideas.

xoxo

#first post #headcanon #resident evil headcanons #imagine #resident evil #jill valentine #chris redfield #claire redfield #resident evil series #contemporary au #sleepover #chris redfeild x reader #claire redfield x reader #jill valentine x reader #gender neutral reader

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 8 months

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To Make a Heaven of Hell (6/?)

----

After messing up cooking canned soup, Virgil decides maybe he'll try his luck going to a restaurant with some of the others instead.

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| <- Previous | First | Next -> |

Chapter warnings: None as far as I'm aware.

Notes:

It feels like it's been ages - I'm not sure if it actually has or not, or if I'm just imagining time passing again, but hey.

Chapter 6! We're getting new characters next chapter baybee

Just for copywrite sake btw, unless I specify otherwise I did not come up with any place names in this fic lmao. All credit to that goes to Jaysea.

“So,” Emile said sitting Virgil down on a nearby bench, “How’re you finding the Hellp Desk?”

“Oh- uhm- it’s pretty good?” Virgil said, frowning, they hadn’t quite been expecting an interrogation when they got down here, then again, maybe Emile was just curious? “I mean - they’re all really nice? And I’m glad I’m allowed to stay with them - gives me something to do.”

“That’s great! Keeping busy is such fun, and I’ve heard the desk is great for some catharsis too,” Emile winked, Virgil was pretty sure that was referring to beating up pedophiles with spiked bats, but he couldn’t be certain.

“Yeah,” Virgil nodded, “Judy makes great snacks too.”

“Oh her pies are just the best aren’t they?” Emile laughed, “She shares them with us sometimes - oh! So whats your paradise like? Assuming you have one, of course?”

“Oh-” Virgil said, trying to keep himself from visibly recoiling at the question, but already he felt that sick feeling pool back into his stomach, what would Emile think? When he found out that Virgil was still to much of a coward to even approach his door? “I…”

Emile watched him for a moment, face falling, “Oh… are you like Ruggy? A hell-bound soul working for the desk?”

“No- no, I have a paradise I just…” Virgil quickly corrected, before mumbling, “Can’t accept it…”

The demon’s frown turned into something a lot more sympathetic as he patted Virgil on the shoulder - giving him a second to move away before doing so. Virgil accepted the touch just a little stiffly.

“I see, well - we have a lot of souls come through here, ones sent and ones who have paradise,” Emile said, “You’re more thna welcome to come down here to chat whenever you’d like.”

“Really?”

“Sure as sugar’s sweet!” Emile grinned, standing back up, “I gotta get back to work, but I'll see you round?”

“Sure,” Virgil shrugged, Emile winked at him before walking away, tail swaying behind him.

Well. That was something that just happened.

Virgil didn’t move from that bench for a long moment - long enough for another one of the demons to stop and ask if he was alright - but eventually he stsod up, ran himself through one of the breathing exercises an old friend had taught him back in the mortal world and walked out of level one as confidently as he could possibly manage.

—-

Another night, a few days later, Virgil had been left alone in Lily’s house once again. She had left a couple things out in the kitchen that he could make up for dinner - and she’d also given him the names of a few decent restaurants and pubs he could go to instead the second night he had stayed with her.

It was odd, Virgil thought as he attempted to cook up a can of soup using the stove, how quickly he’d adapted to this lifestyle. He wasn’t even so scared of going near the oven now.

But it was strange, too, because Virgil hadn’t had a parental figure in his life for… a few years, and even when his parents were around they weren’t… good.

They wondered if the relationship they seemed to be gaining with Lily was something like what a parent was supposed to be. At least to a teenager.

There was no reference point - nothing in his previous life was at all similar to this, especially not his own parents. So this was uncharted territory. Virgil felt a little bit like he was wading through the ocean wearing a blindfold, he had no clue which step would end up with a rock through his foot.

And he knew he was being overly cautious. Lily wouldn’t hurt him, he knew that now. The old fear was just still there nagging at the back of his mind.

The soup was… disappointing. Virgil didn’t think you should be able to fuck up canned soup - especially not in paradise, literally all he needed to do was heat it up, but somehow he’d messed it up anyway. They sighed and got rid of the disgusting soup before looking - for the first proper time - at the list of restaurants Lily had stuck to the fridge.

None of the names were familiar to him - maybe one or two he had heard in passing, but he hadn’t yet been anywhere other than Common Grounds. Going out somewhere would mean good food, but it would also mean eating alone around strangers and potentially getting lost. So, for obvious reasons, Virgil didn’t really want to do that.

Maybe he didn’t have to go alone, though.

Pulling out their phone, Virgil opened up the groupchat Lily had added him to and contemplated sending a message.

The groupchat consisted of everyone they knew at the Hellp Desk - as well as a number of users he didn’t know the identities of. He was fairly certain that one of them was Remus’ twin brother, specifically the one with a Disney profile picture with the nickname ‘Your Prince Charming’ who constantly talked about theatre and insulted Remus. Two of the chat members had matching profile pictures (of the angel and demon characters from that one show he’d seen all over tumblr a few months before they died but had never gotten round to watching) and Virgil was fairly certain they were Emile and his husband now that he’d met the demon.

There were a few users who he couldn’t guess the identities of, though, he assumed they were just more of Lily’s friends and family and tried his best not to throw his phone whenever one of them talked to him. He was used to interacting with people online, it wasn’t that different if he had the very real chance of meeting these people he kept sending dumb memes to in person at some point.

Currently there were no conversations going on - but it was rare for the groupchat to be quiet for long. Virgil wouldn’t be interrupting anyone if they sent a message, so why were they so nervous about it? Maybe because he’d never been the first to start a conversation here before? Maybe it’s because he was making a request this time, and not just sending a reactive meme or responding to a conversation.

Virgil took a deep breath and let it out with a shake of their head, this was a non-issue, barely even a problem, not something to be stressed about, just send the damn message.

<xx4llpanic-nod!scoxx> Hey guys - is anyone around? I wanna get something to eat but don’t wanna go alone ._.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Just wondering if anyone wanted to come with maybe - haven’t decided where yet or anything

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> I don’t want to get lost

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> or stared at, yknow. But it’s fine if not no pressure.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Sorry I’m spamming - i’ll shut up.

Virgil paused in their word vomit, trying to take deep breaths, they’d sent something now and that was great. Now he just had to wait for a response - oh, and he should probably apologise about the smell in Lily’s kitchen.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Oh, wanted to say sorry abt the smell in ur kitchen @Nearamir I fucked up canned soup.

<TacoTime> How do you fuck up canned soup??

<Your Prince Charming> I’ve done it.

<TacoTime> Yeah but you’re you, I’m asking how baby V fucked up canned soup.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Literally no idea man idk what to tell u.

<Nickel> Greg and I are spending tonight in my paradise - sorry V! I hope someone will go with you <3 (also, are you okay?)

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> Other than the crushing weight of eternal existence? I’m fien, soups not tho.

Virgil sighed, unsure if he’d even get a response at this point. They all seemed distracted by the soup disaster, but hey-! Only one person had actually said they couldn’t go so far. Of course, he knew that meant Greg couldn’t either, Lily and Bel were all out doing something too, so they wouldn’t be able to either, which left…. Not many people. Now that he thought about it.

<TheMonsterUnderUrBed> HEy emo u wanna come w/ me and the front deathk nerd we were gonna register for trivia at luckyleaf if u wanna come n get smth 2 eat??

Virgil sighed in relief, okay, maybe it was Remus - who he wasn’t sure he was comfortable eating around - but Logan would be there too. Seeing him again would be pretty cool, he still needed to say thank you properly for the help when Virgil first arrived. Besides, Logan seemed nice, he wouldn’t mind seeing if they could be friends… Lily had said eternity was better the more friends you made. Virgil thought it would be worth a shot.

<xx4llpanic-nod!sc0xx> K cool! I’ll tag along - where should I meet u?”

<TheMonsterUnderUrBed> yk tir na nog? meet us in 15?

Virgil sent back a hasty thumbs up before rushing back to his bedroom to find something to wear more appropriate for generally being outside than what he was currently wearing (a cat t-shirt and sweatpants, to be exact). He was fairly certain the gate to Tír na nÓg was just along a hallway he passed on the way to Hell. He just hoped he was remembering right.

Once he’d changed into something far more appropriate for leaving Lily’s house and fixed his hair, he rushed back out - nearly disturbing Max - and grabbed a bag too, just in case.

After checking themself over in the mirror, Virgil headed out into the paradise realm.

Fifteen minutes after seeing Remus’ message, nearly on the dot, Virgil found himself stood waiting outside of the gate to Tír na nÓg, he could actually see the pub Remus had mentioned a little further down the hall, but he’d been told to wait here, so wait here he would. As Virgil waited for Remus to arrive with Logan, he began to wonder if he had actually missed them, or read the message wrong - or gone to the wrong place, maybe. But almost ten minutes later, Remus arrived, bouncing along the corridor with a disgruntled and ruffled looking Logan in tow.

“Hi!” Remus grinned once they’d stopped in front of him, “Logan, emo, emo, Logan.”

“We’ve met,” Logan said, straightening the tie he wore under a blue diamond patterned sweater vest. Virgil wilted a little at Logan’s harsh tone, did he not want to be here? - or did he not want Virgil here?

“Hi,” Virgil said weakly.

“Hello, Virgil, I’m glad to see you made it out on the right side,” Logan said, tone immediately becoming less harsh, though it still had that same professional air about it - Virgil wondered if Logan was just like that.

“Yup, I’m glad I’m here too,” Virgil chuckled, “Um…”

“I heard you had taken up a position with Hell’s help desk,” Logan prompted as they began to walk, Remus seemed happy to walk alongside them, humming along to some tune and swinging Logan’s hand - which Logan either hadn’t noticed that bay’d grabbed or didn’t care about.

“Oh yeah - I uh- Judy introduced me to them and Lily sorta… adopted me, I think,” Virgil chuckled, “Oh wait- Remus?”

“Yesss?” Remus said, letting go of Logan’s hand and turning to walk backwards so xa could look at Virgil, “What’s up?”

“You mentioned signing up for trivia-” Virgil started, before being cut off.

“Oh yeah! I almost forgot! Me and Lo are signing up a team for the trivia!” Remus giggled.

“Yes,” Logan nodded, before noting Virgil’s confusion, “Every month Luckyleaf hosts a large trivia night, in which varied teams will compete, Remus has convinced me to enter a team with him and a few others this month.”

“Oh cool, sounds fun,” Virgil said, smiling, “Who’s on your team?”

“Me, the nerd, obviously, the shark, the intern,” Remus listed off on fizz fingers, “Oh, pinkie-pie and the coffee angel, though we’re one person short.”

Virgil stared in confusion as Remus raised an eyebrow, Logan sighed.

“Remus and I, Sharkie, Dantillian, Emile and his husband Remy, our team is called ‘Logan and the nincompoops.’ which I personally find distasteful but Remus is certain it’s humorous.”

Virgil snorted, “You said you were one person short?”

“Yeahh - we can’t find anyone else who’s chill with just doing this for fun, they’re all too competitive, and I heard Jan was on the Roman deity’s team again so we’re gonna get crushed anyway.”

“I am only doing this because Remus believes it will be funny.” Logan said, “Especially if we somehow do decently.”

“Remus is right, that is funny,” Virgil laughed, “Is anyone allowed to participate?”

“Yeah! Anyone!,” Remus nodded, “Why, d’you wanna?”

Virgil couldn’t help how he blushed and went quiet. He did want to join, a trivia tournament where he wasn’t actually expected to be super smart sounded like a lot of fun, they’d know everyone there - except Emile’s husband, they wondered what he was like - but if Remus didn’t want them…

“You’re welcome to be part of our team, if you would like to join,” Logan followed up on Remus’ comment, “We’d be glad to have you.”

“I’m no good at trivia,” Virgil said, before frowning, “Well - I suppose unless ‘Tumblr trends and holidays’ comes up as a topic.”

Remus snorted, “I mean, maybe, we’ve had some weird shit in there before, but yea, it’s chill - we’re called ‘Logan and the Nincompoops’ for a reason, y’know.”

“Right,” Virgil said, looking around at both of them, Remus looked to be vibrating out of eir skin with excitement, while Logan was more subdued, Virgil could see the hopeful glint in his eyes, “Yeah, sure, I’d love to join.”

----

General tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @reptilianrapscallion420 @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

Hell's Belles AU tags: @awitchbravestheverge @twoalpacas @goldnskyart @anxious-mess19 @doteddestroyer :)

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#sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #my fic #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides virgil #remus sanders #ts remus #logan sanders #ts logan

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catofadifferentcolor · 11 months

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Terrible Fic Ideas #45: Game of Thrones, but make it Reincarnation

I am a huge fan of eternal recurrence in media - the idea that all this has happened before, all this will happen again. I therefore have a tendency towards seeing patterns in works that were not perhaps intended by their authors, or, if they were, taking them to the utmost extreme.

Or: What if Jon Snow and Daenerys Stormborn are the latest incarnations of doomed Targaryen lovers?

Aka: The Aelor the Accursed Fic

Bear with me:

Prince Aelor was married to his twin sister Princess Aelora and died because of a mishap at her hand.

Before that Baelor Breakspear died of a mortal blow struck by the future King Maekor during the Tourney at Ashford Meadow.

Before that Prince Lucerys fell into Shipbreaker Bay during a fight with Prince Aemond...

...and because we know next to nothing about Aegon the Conqueror's forebears, there's no reason that, say, his ancestor Aenor the Exile couldn't be responsible for the death of his unknown great-grandmother through some mishap.

And since Game of Thrones is a world of magic, where the blood of kings can preform miracles and the dead can come back to life, there's no reason why all these tragedies can't have occurred between the same two reincarnated souls throughout history.

Or: Jon Snow is the reincarnation of Prince Aelor, Baelor Breakspear, Prince Lucerys, and Aenar's unknown wife, while Daenerys is the reincarnation of Princess Aelora, King Maekor, Prince Aemond, and Aenar the Exile.

Just imagine it:

Events proceed as per canon, but Jon and Dany are haunted in dreams by memories they shouldn't have and can't fully recall upon waking. Jon, on some level, is always afraid he will be killed by the one he loves - and believes this has come true when he's killed by brothers of the Night's Watch after narrowly escaping death at Ygritte's hand. Dany, similarly, always feels like she is responsible for the death of the ones she loves - and believes this has come true with her mother, brother, first husband, and son.

Yet these dreams become worse when they finally meet.

The War for the Dawn is fought against the backdrop of an endless series of memories - Jon and Dany growing closer and falling apart as new memories coming to the forefront.

Jon wants to trust Dany, but all his dreams tell him that he must kill her before she kills him, whereas Dany is afraid about being the death of yet another person she loves.

The revelation of Jon's parentage is tangled up in the revelation of their reincarnations.

As Jon and Dany try to reconcile all of their past lives and all of the terrible things their past lives have done to each other, they reunite the Seven Kingdoms. Even as they marry and are crowned the co-rulers of Westeros - Jon taking the dynastic name Aelor I - they're still trying to overcome the actions of their past selves.

They spend the rest of their lives trying to break the cycle, with at least three notable near-misses. They succeed in the end, but have a relationship far more fraught than bards who tell the story of their meeting make out. Later historians are baffled by the dynamic, but place it down as Targaryen oddity.

Bonuses include: 1) Jon having an instinctual knowledge of High Valyrian because of the dreams and not realizing it until the first time Maester Aemon slips into the language in his presence; 2) The inherent complication that comes from having five sets of memories - perhaps even more from before the Doom - that tell you not to trust your lover, who will destroy you even if they don't intend it, and plunge the country you've just rebuilt into war; 3) The inherent complication of having five sets of memories - perhaps even more - that tell you that you can't be trusted, that you destroy everything you touch, and will inevitably lead the country you've just rebuilt back into war; and 4) A whole host of concerned friends and family members looking at Jon and Dany's relationship from the outside and being very concerned about their strange dynamic.

...and that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you ever do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

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faerywhimsy · 1 year

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TD;DR

No one: …

Me: So I know Lestat's the main character of Prince Lestat, but did any of the other beloved characters see the warning signs of the Voice/Amel in the world before it started going around compelling the old ones into killing younglings.

Sorry, killing young ones. And what might those warning signs have looked like?

Prince Lestat is meant to be read as a sequel to Queen of the Damned and, structurally, its many view points succeeds in that goal. However, thematically, there was so much a missed opportunity in actually seeing many of our favourite characters still existing in the aftermath of maybe as little as a decade still scrambling with the grief and loss and so many abruptly silenced minds...

None of them were... doing well... post-Akasha. But then the tension begins to build again.

Slowly, at first. Disconnected fragments across the continents of the world.

Because it's not like these immortals have ever been the best at communicating directly:—

The Coven and the Courtiers - A Guide (QotD 1.5)

Khayman is with Maharet, never straying too far from the jungles of the Amazon, when he picks up the first murmurings of malcontent from the spirit they moved from Akasha into Mekare. It is not happy within its new host. But perhaps it wasn't happy in its previous host either. Akasha sat as a statue under Marius for centuries before ever waking up. Khayman wonders if they're going to have that long again.

Marius is in Brazil with Daniel. He cannot help himself from scanning nearby minds, even as he claims a hope to remain on the sidelines of their world after the disastrous end of his two millennia caring for the Mother and Father. Marius is therefore one of the first who hears word of a very early and isolated Burning that doesn't seem to have any connection back to Akasha. But it would be foolish to ignore them completely, especially when the last Burnings are still so recent.

Pandora's returned to Arjun in India, but he has begun to act strangely. Because of the veil between their minds, she can only ever understand it through the words he offers for explanation. He wishes for the sanctuary of the earth. Inwardly, Pandora wonders if it was her urge to rush to Marius' aid when he was encased in the ice. She doesn't think it was her alliance with Santino, who is now of course dead to them all. She watches Arjun—before he goes into the ground—because he is the love of her life. She watches him because something deep within tells her something's not right.

Mael was filled with a profound sense of purpose during the first Burning. He would look after Maharet and Jesse. Yet, he had failed in that. Since the Burning, Khayman has taken over as Maharet's consort and companion and that's left Mael with... nothing. His maker Avicus has a new coven in Geneva now, with immortals as old as Gregory and as young as Davis. If Avicus thinks of Mael at all, he has no cause to think it. He's had a very long life but, without any sense of purpose calling him, there is no long any care in him. Not for himself, not for any his kind.

Bianca's in Paris with her new fledgling. They never imagine anything could hurt them. Why would they? The first Burning passed them over without so much as coming near them. There's a rumour passed around Europe lately that bringing one into the blood no longer seems to be happening the way it used to. Tales of mute zombies with hearts that won't beat—truly dead things in the place of fledglings—abound. But even that's easy to ignore when Bianca and her own fledgling feel so young, and in love, and immortal.

David is one of three who were mortal during the last interaction with a Queen of Vampires. He and Jesse talk about it sometimes. Jesse has kept up contact with the Great Family in South America, just as David kept some of his contacts within the Talamasca in Britain, younger ones who didn't mind seem to mind when he became a vampire. The same ones Marius' maker Teskhamen has also given his life into the hands of. They're the ones to bring David's attention to Burnings-related incidents as they start making the news on human television stations. They're the ones to ask him if this is something they should be worried about.

Gabrielle alone is able to say that—when the Queen descended on them the last time—she was the one in risk of losing her only remaining son. She knows many think her cold, but they don't know the pain of burying a child born of their womb. Gabrielle has hardened herself because it's the only protection she's found for her heart and her time in Turkey with the ancient handmaid Sevraine has not her changed utterly. Oh, Gabrielle's not blind, she knows her son will not let this world come to an end. Nor is she—first fledgling of Lestat—unaware of the Voice that whispers to him now.

Killer is in Philadelphia and is only just a century in the blood and one of the youngest outside the "Coven of the Articulate" to have survived Akasha's massacre. Killer makes up part of the Fang Gang, the coven that lies closest to Armand in New York City, less than two hours away. He may only be notable for his proximity to Armand, and his prior connection to Davis, but even he senses the change in Armand as word begins to trickle back to Trinity Gate and the Fang Gang are forced to disband.

Armand knows already he will protect his chosen family at all costs, from any future threats or Burnings. Was there a moment he considered taking them all underground where none would find them should anything resurface? Yes, though he'll never admit it. There was always that concern that the Sacred Core residing in Mekare would corrupt her. Is that what they are starting to see now?

Louis can hear nothing for himself, of course. But Lestat's visits to Trinity Gate begin to grow more and more sporadic and Louis can see Armand grows steadily more tightly wound as the world around them changes again. But still Louis counsels his love and companion to pause. Wait. Be vigilant, but if Khayman and Marius have told them they are already watchful of possible threat, they are likely not the only old ones to do so.

Benji's too much like Armand; he will protect the ones he considers his tribe. He never really understood how the old ones isolate themselves, hasn't really had enough interaction with them to recognise it in any real way. For him, immortals live like they do in Trinity Gate. Benji's radio show begins slowly, like a modern analog of Armand's Thé��tre des Vampires, in that no human hearing it will believe, but blood drinkers will find what they need.

I was going to suggest Lestat's probably one of the youngest immortal to actually hear Amel's voice. Then I remembered how strong in the blood Daniel's always been depicted for his age. So yeah he's mad, but that's not helped by the fact Amel started yammering at him from the same point as Lestat. "He rages," said Daniel. "When he's gotten into my head, he's raged."

Cause it's a psychic blast, people. Even Lestat acknowledges, "the Voice is working on a number of fronts".

In any case, all of this is more or less the outline of what I've been thinking of as the QotD 1.5 head canon, something that's being played out in How They Get to Trinity Gate as we get to the pointy end of the fic.

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lucienne-thee-librarian · 1 year

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Desunity 😏

HERE WE GO 😤🥂

when I started shipping it if I did: Not that long ago, just a couple months after I'd seen the show versions. When I first saw the show's change to make it something like an actual relationship, I thought "huh that's an interesting take". And then a few weeks later I saw some memes and art by @fishfingersandscarves that made me laugh....and then a few days later read a semi-humorous fic that still awakened Emotions and Thoughts. And then the wheels started turning in my brain and I somehow I blacked out and woke up in a pile of drafted half coherent DM metas and a whole goddamn playlist and a new set of shrimp emotions about this, so.

my thoughts: The possibilities opened up by making this an actual relationship are FASCINATING because there's so many directions you can go with this. You can lean into the tragedy and psychological horror potential still there, make it a dark comedy of this good hearted girlboss and amoral but devoted cat-spouse/catwifeband, look for the sweet moments in between the beginning and the inevitable end...there's so much you can play with.

What makes me happy about them: Unity spoke so fondly of her golden eyed stranger and you Know she had to suspect they weren't entirely who they seemed. And yet she still loved them. She probably thought they were a vampire or who knows, an actual god for all she knew and she just rolled with it. Hence why it's actually quite easy to imagine that while for their purposes Desire appeared to her mainly in the form of a man, and they probably didn't feel they should show off their true gender-transcending nature to an early-20th century gal without breaking her brain or scaring her off, they might have let slip glimpses of it, playing with gender in more understandable, to her, ways via "cross-dressing". Also because it's difficult to imagine Desire being willing to tie themselves to any one gender performance for very long. (This is fully a headcanon but it's one of my favorites.) Oh, and the fact that since their life together basically happens in the Dreaming means they can go ANYWHERE together, and they have a buffet of experiences to sample. Unity wants to go to space? They can go, Unity wants to go travel the world in dreams, the pair can do that. The opportunities are, well, endless:)

What makes me sad about them: That imo, it's totally impossible for them to have a truly happy ending, unless you're doing an au or some serious and specific canon divergence to make Desire basically come clean early or call off the whole vortex scheme somehow - or unless you can somehow completely ignore the horroresque implications of what Unity is being just straight up lied to about or not told in order to keep the happy family going. Because...Desire fully sowed the seeds of the destruction of not just their own children, or grand/greatgrandkids here but of the possibility for the relationship to last, by doing this. Even if they end up catching genuine feelings for Unity along the way - like is someone like her who loves Rose and Jed so much really going to be able to forgive that easily, if at all? Plus she's mortal, and Desire asking Death for a Hob Gadling-style boon has the teensy little problem of...risking having their sister who like Unity, is NOT stupid but UNlike Unity, knows the millions of years long track record of their bullshit, poking around and figuring out the whole plot. Which I believe is the primary unspoken threat Dream was delivering in that confrontation scene near the end. He didn't tell Death and the others about what Desire did for a reason, because if he did they would be PISSED and despite everything deep down he does love his sibling. So no matter what, this relationship was doomed from the start by the way Desire started things, or by them fathering a child with her. It has an inevitable time limit one way or the other. They painted themselves and their relationship into a corner here. Mind you, the tragedy is part of the appeal for me, I have developed a taste for problematic charismatic bitches accidentally sowing the seeds of their own downfall, getting caught in their own honeytrap, so to speak. Also there really is something to the sweet sweet irony of the idea of Desire of the Endless, who always pokes fun at how easily enslaved Dream is and mortals are by love and desire...falling into the same exact hole. But imo, in the canon universe, a tragic ending one way or the other is unavoidable. If you're doing an au or a divergent canon ofc the rules can be different.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: I haven't seen it often, but if somebody includes the events as laid out in show canon and then just. Has these two meet and make up later easily no muss no fuss. I get it's about wish fulfillment (fittingly, lol) but I just don't see Unity as a character having it in her to forgive, certainly not easily, someone who whether their feelings for her end up being genuine or not, still started this as part of a plot to use their children, Desire's and Unity's descendants, as walking time bombs to get to Dream. Not without her being basically lied to forever. (Now depending on how well the fic is written it might not be a deal breaker because fam the pool of choice here is TINY. Tiny)

things I look for in fanfic: These characters to be together and finding moments of happiness, maybe in another world where things didn't get ruined from the beginning so they could end happily maybe, or explorations of the tragedy...I just want more lol, but above all I want the unconventionality and spice that would makes these two characters compelling together. Like, that unique blend of fucked-up-but-still-with-shockingly-sincere-doomed-mutual-love canon compliance OR an au where their relationship is still not exactly conventional in some way, it raises people's eyebrows but these two don't care because they're happy together, whatever they have works for them. The one thing it won't ever be is boring.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Unity and peace of mind lmfao, Desire - honestly I don't really have any other ships for them that come to mind, they're already an essay and a half's worth of character on their own *shrug* also the aro/ace/aroace Desire headcanons are equally fascinating AND imo, actually matches what we see of them in the series a lot more than you'd think.

My happily ever after for them: In an au tbh xD where they get to start on a foundation that was built on something honest and forge their own unique bond and just be who they are, together.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: At first it's mainly Unity as the little spoon but over time they switch more, Unity loves to be cuddled but also to cuddle her minx, who ofc, absolutely does not mind being spoiled

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Dancing. Attending the opera or a ballet together. Unity has a genuinely captivating passion for the arts that Desire shares and appreciates. Even if they have Opinions about when a singer/dancer is underperforming and won't hesitate to mutter comments under their breath to make Unity elbow them or start giggling to the point where if this wasn't the Dreaming they'd get kicked out of the theater.

#desunity #unity x desire #unity kincaid #desire #ship and characters meme #a desire for unity #the pain of shipping something but not only is it a rarepair its often in *such* a specific way you need to see it

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thecampjuicebox · 4 months

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"... she was near impossible to wrangle. A strong one she is."

"... they wrestle something to the floor, little yelps and squeaks of struggle perking his ears up. Just as quickly as they came, the two fiends blink away in another flurry of red magic, ..."

I'm not sure if you intended it come across this way, but I can't help imagining the two messenger cambions are just silently thinking "Oh, thank the Nine Circles we don't have deal with this woman anymore!" and trying to finish up the delivery as fast as possible so they can get the heck out of there. They don't want to be remembered as a fiend who was sent to simply deliver an otherwise random mortal but instead ended up being asphyxiated by said mortal while she was naked and using what they tied her up with to strangle them...

... Too many of Mephistopheles' fiends have already died that way trying to capture and contain this one blasted woman as it is.

at this point, they're pretty sure if it happened again that Mephistopheles would somehow drag the poor wretch back to life just to kill them himself

Oh yes, those two messengers were absolutely DONE with Tav's shit. In every sense of the phrase. Not only had she made their job unreasonably difficult, they almost lost her quite a few times during the delivery, which would've just come down on their heads in the end.

Sure, she was naked and bound, but that means nothing. A strong one, she is.

At first they were convinced it would be an easy capture. One and done. What's a stupid little elf to them - big beefy cambions. Boy, were they wrong. Considering the other fiends DIED in the process, I'm going to assume Mephistopheles left out the IMPORTANT information about just how difficult this job was going to be. Just kinda sent them in blind.

The delivery was rushed and the niceties were spared as much as possible because you're correct, they wanted OUT OF THERE. Away from the HoH, and away from that WRETCH of a woman. Once she was in Raphael's care, that was it.

As much as she would have liked to give them exactly what they gave her, she was occupied with something much more important. So while the scene would've been really fun to watch, they survived this one time. Next time, she may not be so forgiving.

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salty-dracon · 1 year

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I Think Hraesvelgr FFXIV Is An Asshole Actually, Explained Through Violent Fictional Suburban Drama

TW child death, animal death

...

Okay, so imagine you’re a person who lives in a suburban neighborhood and doesn’t own a dog. You don’t hate them, you don’t love them, and you’re just fine with them harmlessly existing. You’re dog-neutral. So are most of your neighbors. But a few of them have dogs, like that newlywed couple that lives down the street (miniature poodle) or that one middle-aged woman who lives near the stop sign (three-legged medium sized terrier of some sort), or that sports guy who goes running with his Husky every morning. That’s fine, you don’t interact with them much, and you’re aware that they live in the neighborhood, but you’re personally not a dog person.

And then there are some people who hate dogs. Old Man Jenkins down the road, for one. You heard from this lady named Marsha at the neighborhood Fourth of July party that Jenkins watched his little brother get mauled by a neighbor’s violent, unrestrained Labrador when he was like twelve years old, and that kind of fucked him up for life. I mean, it would fuck anyone up. You get it. Jenkins thinks dogs are a menace, and he’s entitled to those thoughts (your mom hates dogs too), but maybe he should really get some therapy.

And then one day the newlywed couple’s miniature poodle ends up dead. Someone fed her a dog treat with a nail hidden inside, and the poor thing’s dead. The couple’s distraught, and you’re not quite sure how to help them out. But you feel terrible for the poor poodle.

And then one week later, the middle aged woman’s three-legged terrier mix is dead, because it was out in the yard, sleeping in its doghouse, and someone unlocked the fence and somehow attacked it while it was sleeping. It couldn’t get on its feet fast enough to fight back. That’s awful. You talked to her, and you brought a meal, because you worried she wasn’t eating, and she said, ‘Buttercup never hurt anyone! What kind of monster would just break into my house and kill her?!’ before bursting into tears.

And then one day later, the sports guy’s Siberian Husky is found with a stab wound in its side. It’s pretty small, probably a rusty nail, but it was howling all night until its owner woke up and rushed it to the animal hospital. He’ll live, but when you went to go visit him, the dog whined when he saw you. Sports guy gave a sad look and said that he was scared of people now. Wow, that’s just awful.

So by now, law enforcement is getting involved. More dogs are being killed. It’s sickening to watch, and people want to move out. Even Marsha, who doesn’t own a dog but does have three kids, is scared of them being hurt. But eventually a stray security camera manages to catch someone in the acts.

It was Jenkins who killed all those dogs.

They’re formally questioning him, but everyone knows that it’s because of what happened when he was twelve, and he watched the neighbor’s dog attack his own younger brother. That was messed up. Still, the death toll is, what, nine dogs now? And you just can’t help but think that all of those dogs are innocent in all of this. Sure, you’ve never hung out with most of them, but the middle aged woman’s terrier mix was disabled, and you’d seen it have trouble walking before. Why would someone kill it?

But no, it’s because a Labrador killed his brother, he’s just got to kill all of those other dogs, who have committed no mortal dog sins of their own.

And all of your neighbors agree- what happened to Jenkins’ brother was fucked up. We know we’ve never met him, and we know we can never feel the pain he’s feeling, but what gives him the right to attack the neighborhood’s other dogs?

And these dogs had lives, families, favorite toys, memories, and some of them had owners who had gone to college and were waiting eagerly for their return or something. Some of them had doggy siblings. They were just dogs, and Jenkins decided they didn’t deserve to live.

So then at some point you go to meet Edith. Edith is Jenkins’ brother, and heard about everything that happened. She didn’t witness the murder of their brother, but she was devastated by it. She swore off dogs entirely... until her daughter fell sick with cancer, and asked her mother to take care of it for her. And then Edith fell in love with the dog (a Yorkshire terrier) and began to treat it like the daughter who’d left her home long ago. The two are practically inseparable now.

You ask Edith for her opinion on the situation, and she’s got Poochie on her lap, and she says “I think Jenkins was in the right.” And you’re like, what? And she’s like “Yes, those dogs are all a menace. They murdered my baby brother.” And you’re like, that was ONE dog. And she’s like “Yes, but they all deserve to die, honestly. They’re wolves inside. They’re all hiding their instincts to kill humans and animals.” And you look at Poochie. And you ask, “What about Poochie?” And she says, “I’m angry enough at those dogs to kill nine more. But, Poochie would be mad at me if I did it, so I won’t.”

So, your only reason to not kill a few dogs is because it would make your companion- a dog- upset. Despite all the hurt and pain that your brother has caused, EDITH.

Isn’t Edith an asshole?

Okay, now replace humans with dragons, dogs with humans, Jenkins with Nidhogg, and Edith with Hraesvelgr.

Anyway, yeah, I think Hraesvelgr is an asshole.

#ffxiv #i'm too acepilled for heavensward #but writing all this fictional dog drama was very fun #but yeah i'm like. not defending him in the least. 'the only reason i'm not killing you is because i love my wife' go fuck yourself dude #and don't anyone give me shit about how dragons remember stuff really good or comprehend time differently.#if humans can have sympathy for dogs despite our vastly different timescales then dragons can do the same for humans.#idk this is just the second youtuber i've seen defend nidhogg and hraesvelgr ffxiv and i felt the need to. be an asshole #final fantasy 14

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