#a sort of conditional immortality

[poisonouspastels]

well to summarize

Look Who’s Inside Again - Bo Burnham TW for some minor depictions of gore (zombies and burn injuries) Groda has to deal with the consequences of her actions. White Eyes unfortunately also has to deal with that.

[ervona]

anyway Vim!!! I love her and I love how a lifetime of being a shadowscale prepared her for coming face to face with gods and treating it as another job. how being depersonalized by everyone she meets in Morrowind actually helps her bounce back and reclaim her person by rejecting what identities were woven about her. I love how she enters an assassin whose name isn't necessary, how she's forced into whatever role and leaves a person for herself that doesn't answer to anyone and doesn't owe people who tried to make her a weapon or a symbol anything... she's finally free

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

I can't recall if you take requests but.. The boys with a vampire lover? If you haven't already.. Been thinking about this for awhile, I just had to ask. And if you don't, Then I apologize for asking.

Vampire Lover!

Tags: mostly fluff, monsterxhuman, mention of blood (you’re a vampire duhhhh)

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Sukuna, Choso, Nanami

An: Hi! My requests are open :) No need to apologize! Thank you for the idea <3 I hope this is what you meant btw this is the best I could come up with.. 😭

SATORU

Satoru would definitely be the type to beg you to bite him. You would always deny him and tell him that it’d be wrong for you to feed on him since he’s your boyfriend, but he gets all giddy at the idea of you biting him and drinking from him.

He always makes excuses for why you can’t attend events or different clan meetings if they’re during the day. You’re constantly known for having some sort of sickness that Satoru randomly came up with.

He’s very inquisitive: constantly asking you if people smell different based off their blood types, which blood type is the sweetest etc.

He also has the money to fund all consensual giving of blood to feed you for years on out. You never have to worry about going hungry or having to hunt for food. Another reason why you refuse to drink from him.

Satoru would at first be happy with his humanity. He doesn’t want immortality or to never age. He doesn’t want any more power than he already had. Though, when you randomly bring up to him that you’ll outlive him, he’s suddenly questioning whether being a human is for him or not.

The thought of you going on to live without him for as many years as this earth stands drives him wild. He starts doing a lot of research, and he begins to ask you if you’ve thought about turning him. He’s definitely willing to give up his humanity if it means being by your side.

SUGURU

Suguru insists you drink from him to prevent harm from anyone else. At least, that’s what he tells you. In reality, he loves how much you rely on him. He adores each time you crawl up into his lap and gingerly kiss on his neck, obviously hoping to feed on him.

He’ll always tell you, “Go ahead, baby. Take what you need,” as he brushes his hair back from his neck. His hands would gently caress your back and bottom as you drank from his neck.

He’d never stop you either, even if you took a bit too much from him because that’s when you’re extra doting on him. You’re super apologetic and tend to him like he’s some frail being. It’s the only time in his life that he’s looked at as weak, and he doesn’t mind it, especially not when your apologizing with kisses and bringing him anything he could possibly ask for.

Suguru lies to his found-family that you have a rare skin condition, and you can’t be in the sun at all. He makes sure everyone accepts you into their little group, and he even introduces you to his followers. You expressed fear about being around that many humans, but he loves to watch as you nervously make your way across the room, introducing yourself to everyone. He knows you’ll be itching to feed as soon as everyone’s gone.

Suguru wants to be by your side for forever, but he knows that if you turn him, then you can’t feed on him anymore. He’s stuck in a dilemma of choosing which is more important to him. His humanity isn’t even part of the equation as he gave that up a long time ago.

SUKUNA

Sukuna would be the type to laugh at you for needing blood as substance to keep you alive. He would mock and bully you saying things like, “Look at the worthless creature who’s really no better than a mere mortal.”

He’d tempt you by various means, sometimes even “accidentally” slicing his finger open so you could smell the blood that still somehow pulsed through his veins. Once you finally pled enough for his liking, he’d finally allow you to have a taste.

For the King of Curses, he has some of the sweetest tasting blood that you’ve ever had the pleasure of indulging. Though, he won’t let you drink from him often, instead he gifts you human sacrifices. He thinks of it as a courting present.

When he’s not being a little asshole towards you, he does enjoy lying in bed with you while you theorize about what the future holds for you two. He’d gently pet your hair and tell you not to worry your head about such foolish things.

Everyone in his inner circle already knows about what you are. If they’re fine with being associated with the literal incarnation of evil, then they should be completely okay with a vampire at his side.

He doesn’t have to give up his humanity to be with you for all eternity because he doesn’t have any humanity to begin with. You’re not even sure what would happen if you tried to turn him, but you’re not too keen on finding out.

CHOSO

Choso would be like Satoru in the sense that he’s constantly making sure that you’re fed. Given his blood manipulation cursed technique, he can feed you quite easily through various different means. Though he rather prefers when you bite him.

He relates to you on a deeper level, understanding what it’s like to be not quite human. He sympathizes with your struggles and tries to reassure that some humans will accept you for who you are.

Knowing that you can’t go out in the sunlight, Choso finds so many date ideas and things to do at night. You never feel like you’re missing out on anything because this man will make it happen, no matter what it is.

Only Choso and Yuji know you’re a vampire. He knows he said that humans will accept you, but he also knows some will try to hunt you down, and he’s not willing to take the risk.

Choso doesn’t have to give up his humanity to live forever with you, but he does wonder what would happen to him if he was half-curse and half-vampire. He’d become fixed on the idea, but you’d have to politely remind him that if he turned, his cursed technique would basically become useless.

NANAMI

Nanami would be such a cautious lover to a vampire, not because he’s scared of you. He loves you. He’s just worried about everyone else being around you.

He’d let you feed on him, but he brings around small blood bags for you to enjoy at all times! He even gets jazzy with it and makes you fun little drinks with the blood (while trying not to throw up because it probably repulses him). Nevertheless, the drinks always turn out good.

He holds an umbrella for you constantly if you insist on going out during the day time. If anyone asks why you need an umbrella, he snaps at them to mind their own business.

Nanami would tell no one that you’re a vampire. He doesn’t want anyone potentially leaking that information and bringing you into harm’s way. He prefers that he’s the only one who knows.

Unfortunately, I don’t see Nanami giving up his humanity to be with you forever, and you agree with him. He grows old beside you while you remain the same, and you give him the most fulfilling life possible.

[radiance1]

Witch au but Sam looks far too much like Martha Wayne than a lot of people are comfortable with.

I hear you ask, "but Sam is younger than her in this au" and I tell you that Martha Wayne had the genetic trait of looking younger than she actually was, a trait that was in her family for generations.

Thus, we have Sam who resembles Martha Wayne far too much, the philosopher's stone that makes her immortal, and a genetic trait that has Martha looking younger than she actually is and you get misunderstandings.

So, Sam was just minding her business trying to figure out what exactly for her castle to be anywhere that wasn't Amity Park when someone stepped onto her property and, getting a feel for them she realized that they don't seem to be magical in nature.

Also, scratch that, it was more than one person.

So, she decided to give them a... 'warm' welcome.

A group of people who believed in the supernatural decided to get together one day to explore the castle that spawned randomly one day in Gotham for shits and giggles. So there they were, stepping through the fog, barely able to see the ground let alone each other.

They had to solve a puzzle for the door to the castle to open in those conditions, which was weird but it was also the fun kind of weird so they weren't complaining about it. When they opened the door it was very dark, which made them second guess themselves for a second and then they decided to step in anyway.

They live in Gotham what's the chances of this castle being worse than what they go through weekly?

The door slammed shut behind them as soon as the last person stepped inside, leaving them in total darkness for a moment before candles lit themselves up and they saw the inside of the castle in its full glory.

It looked, very, very beautiful.

So beautiful in fact, that they almost missed the woman stood at the top of the stairs. She looked very, very beautiful and was wearing a dress that looked very expensive (think Blue Diamond from Steven Universe but black) with a red gem right in the middle of her chest.

The lady welcomed them into her castle, and suddenly they found their vision going back as the woman's sinister chuckle echoed all around them and they found themselves in separate rooms of the house.

Fun fact, this group of people were also streamers and streaming everything up to the point of Sam's entrance and then her magicking them all in different rooms. They also had a pretty good following, so safe to say the chats were going crazy over what just happened.

So, the various live streamers investigate the castle to find a way to escape before their assumed death, they solve various puzzles both with their own wit and the help of their chat that were magical in nature. The various puzzles and traps were, genuinely, very fun to solve, both for the chat and the streamers doing them.

All the streamers manage to meet up again, and boy are they genuinely thankful for the fact that-so far at least, this doesn't seem to actually be anything life threatening and just seemed to be a grand time all around.

Then they all headed down a hall together, and the chat just went absolutely ballistic when they saw a large portrait of the witch and another man standing together and smiling.

The chat never got a good look at her before the streamers got teleported to different rooms, but that painting?

It changed everything.

Because the woman standing in that picture-as pointed out by a chat member, looked an awful lot like Martha Wayne, and the man standing next to her? Thoms Wayne.

The streamers, obviously, think they've hit the jack pot because their viewer count is just going up and up because of this new information and also think they've hit some sort of scandal because, wasn't Martha Wayne dead?

Eventually, the find themselves sitting at the dining table with said woman who was silently drinking tea with a bunch of food sitting on the table in front of them. The woman smirked as she placed down her cup, asking if they enjoyed the various puzzles she laid out for them.

Everyone agrees, and the chat is exploding for them to ask if she's actually Martha Wayne.

She doesn't answer save for a cheeky smile and then suddenly they were standing outside of her castle and couldn't get back in.

Safe to say, reporters were flocking to ask various questions.

[blueiight]

theres this quote running around from jacob anderson where he talks about how historically black people have been removed from period dramas and how, as suggested by the interviewer (w/ blueiight embellishment ofc), the very few times black charas would show up in these period pieces theyd be side characters delegated to a raceblind narratively incoherent plot to placate an audience ashamed with / of the nuances of blackness. i rly like how he said louis’s character represents both a ‘black and very human story about a vampire… [Black people] do not usually have the opportunity to play such complex and fluent characters’. i think that brings to heart a lot of why this show has my heart, as an armchair historian and r.n. (dont ask what that stands for). u racebent characters in a way that coheres, situate ur black characters in a specific context, and the story never deludes us into thinking the mere existence of an interracial relationship is enough to end racism. in e2 louis literally says “fledgling sounds like slave, dont call me that” and e3 starts with louis telling lestat the history of dismembering runaway enslaved ppl & placing their bodies on the gates of of jackson square.. in his initiation to vampirism, louis is moved from the historically Black creole treme area he grew up in & is placed into lestat’s townhome in the very white, french, old quarter. vampirism as hes initiated into is a loving, powerful, cruel, and isolating existence for louis. bc of vampirism he is able to kill a racist person and not be lynched for it, hes able to echo the historical dismemberment on the alderman by placing his body on the st louis cathedral, but he is unable to kill racist groups & systems that initiate race riots. his connection to claudia in s1 is not so much by the oedipal, but by both their connection as lestat’s fledglings and as Black [creole] people placed in a part of the city largely alien to them both. this connection can be broken down even further. louis saw claudia as his joychild of sorts, ‘[his] redemption’ for his 5 years of pimping but a big part of her tragedy is that a child being made into a vampire cannot redeem anyone, much less redeem an individual from what was a historical inevitability. claudia is adopted into such a stature that she wouldve otherwise never reached by virtue of being made a vampire, but even then that is conditional. claudia is rendered inert from being anyone’s ‘wife’ forever trapped in the confines of immaturity as a ‘daughter’, only hoping at best to be louis’s ‘sister’ and isnt that resonant to bw.. she’s selectively infantilized both a child ‘meddling in the affairs of her parents’ , ungrateful, arrogant, and adultified - presumed powerful enough to ‘poison louis against [lestat]’ , taking on the role of louis’s ‘knight in vengeful white black’ .. the response lestat has to claudia is characterized by him continuing the cycle of abuse he once faced toward her and with a black claudia who was once a poor girl now adopted into this immortal luxury it takes on a racialized element. “bach is beyond you” and claudia bites back with “yes this french music is hmm. not made for these mongrel ears”. the absence of metaphor is striking!! literally the fact that this show does not shy away from the era its set in is why its so good.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can i get an immortal villain×mortal hero please please please🥺

I'll give you my croissants 🥐🥐🥐

"How would you like to die?" the villain asked. Their eyes were closed where they sat upon a park bench, head tipped back to the cool breeze and the clear blue sky.

The hero stopped, a little uncertain, but not exactly startled.

"I've tried every kind of death," the villain said. "I can make a recommendation if you prefer."

"I'm not going to die."

The villain's lips twisted - a smile, of sorts. "All mortals die. It is the linchpin of their condition."

"I won't die because of you."

The villain's smile broadened. "Drowning, perhaps. Or maybe suffocation. I don't want to disturb the ducks."

"Why those in particular?"

The villain finally deigned to open their eyes at the question, considering the hero where they stood. The hero couldn't quite read the villain's expression, but their voice remained casual. "Everyone always thinks they can survive those ones. If they just thrash, just fight, hard enough. Then they go very still and very quiet when they realise they can't. You have time to realise what's going to happen to you, see."

"Nice to see you at least put thought into your craft."

"What can I say, I'm a sweetheart. You only get one death."

"But you don't."

"You've done some research. Not enough," the villain added, tipping their head, "seeing as you're still standing there talking to me. But some. Kudos. I guess we'll see if you're brave or stupid."

"I'm not trying to kill you."

"Contain me. Incapacitate me." The villain waved a dismissive hand. "You might save your generation, perhaps, if you get lucky. Are you feeling lucky?"

"I'm not trying to do that either."

"Oh?" The villain sat up a little, finally tuning in properly to the conversation. "Are you not a hero? You dress like one."

"I'm hoping to find a more peaceful, effective solution."

The villain slumped, bored, again. "Mm. This should be good."

"Because I have done my research," the hero said, taking another step closer. "You're immortal. You only kill people when they attack you or are in the way of you wanting something."

"As I said, I'm a sweetheart and a saint."

The hero's jaw tightened. The villain had slaughtered thousands across the decades after all. They were many things, and had lived many lives, but in none of them had they ever been a sweetheart or a saint.

"And what you want most," the hero ploughed on, "other than your comfortable life, is not to be bored. There's no end, after all. So you need distraction. Diversion. Something to make time a little less of of a prison."

The villain was silent for a long moment, watching the hero. "I take it back," they said, finally. "I'm going to drive a knife through your ribs. Nice and slow. You know it's much harder to die from a stab wound than people think? Often it's the blood loss that gets ya."

"And then what?"

The villain shrugged. "Feed the ducks. Go back to my book. Make Christmas lights out of your bones. The possibilities are endless!"

"Sounds lonely."

"You think you're the first to try this, don't you?"

"I think you haven't met me before."

"Maybe I will entertain myself with you," the villain said. "Maybe I'll destroy your life and the live of everyone you talk to from now on. That could be fun. It's been a while since I've been so personal a devil."

Despite themselves, the hero swallowed. Despite their resolve, they considered walking away. Just for a moment.

The villain pushed to their feet, tossing their paperback carelessly aside.

The hero squared their shoulders. They felt their suddenly-fragile feeling heart begin to race. They let the villain stop in front of them, they tried not to let out a desperate shudder as the villain's fingers wrapped around their throat.

"Pick an option," the villain said, caressing their pulse. "Lose air. Lose blood. Or lose everything, but get a few more years before you go. If you ask really nicely, I might even make it quick. "

The hero shifted. They passed through the villain's fingers as if it were nothing, as if the villain were nothing. A ghost. Untouchable.

When the villain turned, the hero sat on the bench the villain had vacated. They made a show of picking up the villain's book, willing their once-more solid fingers not to tremble.

The villain raised an eyebrow. "Phasing. Cute."

"I don't age when I'm in ghost mode. Any injuries I have heal. If someone kills me, I stay dead, presumably. I'm mortal, as you say, but..."

"Hard to kill."

"Hardest you'll find. Or does the challenge scare you?"

"Determined little martyr, aren't you?"

"Not like you have anything to lose experimenting. You have all the time in the world."

"You realise I don't have to honour any deal now that you've revealed your hand? I could just hunt you and continue hurting other people, especially now I know how much it bothers me."

"I'll disappear."

"I have all the time in the world. I'd find you eventually."

"I guess then I'd just vanish again, if you don't want to play ball."

"You really are just the cutest, aren't you?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Maybe." The villain held out a hand for their book. "I haven't decided. Buy me lunch. See if you can keep my interest for more than five minutes."

"Lunch."

"There's a new cafe I haven't tried. Apparently they make their own croissants."

"You want to go to lunch with me?"

"No, I want to go to lunch. All this talk of bloodshed is giving me the munchies! But I'm assuming you're currently planning to haunt me, so you may as well pay. Unless you want me to just...kill anyone who tries to charge me."

"No! No."

"That's what I thought. Great minds."

The hero pushed to their feet, as the villain had, tentatively offering them their book back. They weren't entirely sure if that encounter had gone well or not.

The villain smiled, full of teeth, eyes gleaming.

"For your sake, little hero, do try not to be boring."

And, so, they went for lunch.

[maximwtf]

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

Capitano x Reader

Words: 4200

Google Docs Pages: 7ish

Warnings: 5.1 spoilers but just about Capitano, established relationship but everything has to be horrible so it’s not established but kinda is but just when you think it is, it’s not. Angst/ kinda comfort? Idk you try to comfort an immortal man rotting from the inside and see how it goes. I guess like the tiniest amount of fluff but that’s sad too. Bad communication, emotional hurt. I imagine him with more real rot, maybe with some abyssal like Dain? Idk, but this is written based on that :) Rotten man, save us.

Opening: Does he have people to open up to about all the years he’s spent with his condition and the thoughts of regret he’s accumulated? Would he allow himself that comfort even if he did? Because that has been for you to figure out, bit by bit. 

AN// G/N reader. I don’t think yall understand how happy I was to get this lore drop on Capitano. Like wdym they have a suffering old man in the cast, and you kept him from me for this long?! Anyway, I feel like it was my duty to write something for him due to that. Enjoy.

If you have any fic ideas for him, feel free to request :)

“I would endure endless defeats before burdening you.”

The hallway outside was silent, matching the space behind the door at the very end of it. A faint light on a sturdy wooden table, a couple other lights scattered here and there. But no amount of warm candles nor a bigger fire could truly disperse the coldness in the room. The man inhabiting it, so stupefied by it by now that he barely noticed anymore. And the people who had before, dared not mention it anymore either.

The light outside had disappeared some time ago. The sun never truly rose in mid winter, or at the very least it didn’t seem like it did. Especially on the days when the snowfall was so thick it painted the horizon white. Covering the sun along with its soft blanket. And so it had done on this day as well, and by the look of it grown tired by the end. Yielding, and soon the snowflakes turned so small it looked more like powdered sugar from afar. Only a little too late for the sun to make any sort of appearance anymore, the chance for that long gone. 

Did the sun have regrets at the end of days such as this? Had it not tried hard enough to repel the heavy snowfall on this day? And now that it had failed, would the people who’d longed to see it shine once more at the end of the day be disappointed? Would they be blinded enough to not see that it had tried to save the end of the day with a few rays of its light, only to realise it was far too late for that? And that it would try again just as hard if another chance was given. 

Capitano stared outside through the window of his office. These seemingly eternal thoughts running through his mind yet again. At times hoping his mind would rot enough to be able to forget any sort of regret he may have still been holding on to. But a curse seemed to stay as such, unable to forget and let his mind rest. 

Not when small things around could be used to remind him, having to shut his mind from viewing these aspects around him on such a deep level. In truth having nothing to do with the past and the actions taken and left undone. All the more reason to try and forget any regret. 

His eyes gazed outside at the snowfall. It coming down in a straight line, placid as ever as it settled to its rightful place. To perhaps be blown to a new location the next day with a gush of wind. The weather was so calm it almost appeared warmer outside than in the uncomfortably chilly office of his. The cold that would have sent a shiver or two down his spine in the past.

Capitano’s eyes focused on his reflection against the window. A man he’d constructed his outer appearance to be, something to stay unchanging as everything else was torn from him bit by bit. That was a man with no regrets, someone powerful to look up to. Someone he’d once been fortunate enough to truly be and live as.

Not that he wasn’t that now as well. Enjoying the respect of his peers, troops and alliances. But each show of power reminded him of who he wasn’t anymore. The person he could no longer even become. A rare few amongst the people he met even being able to comprehend the status he’d held all those years ago. 

His head lowered, a careful pair of hands taking a hold of the carefully constructed mask. Removing it with a slow, almost dragging motion. Lowering it along with his hands, eyes having returned to peer at his reflection. The space dim enough to not allow his full appearance to truly show off. But he knew exactly what the blurry and darkened out parts looked like. What the mask so diligently hid behind it. 

What the outer man he’d built was concealing underneath. The commander he’d been and the person he’d turned into. Forced into being. Cursed with something others would spend their lives seeking, not understanding the cost of living beyond their years. How the flesh would deteriorate and rot. How even his soldier’s will and self respect wavered under the power this change had. How his mind had to come to terms with what used to be and what was now. Who he had to be and what he could now do in order to use what he’d been given to make a mark. Even if only to himself, he wanted to be able to to make this time count. He’d be a disgrace to his former homeland if he had given up all that time ago and frozen in place. The only option was to move on. Even if this curse was eating him alive. 

A part of him sighed in relief when the silence deep in the hallway was disturbed, releasing his mind of these thoughts. Focusing on figuring out who was nearing his door. There was no knock, steps that were silent as ever and that paused almost right after as the door behind this person closed once more. The silence, almost like a vicious entity, taking over the space like it was guarding it. And just before that Capitano had come to a conclusion, you. 

“Greetings,” he spoke with a surprisingly formal tone. Quick to adapt from his thoughts to the current situation. Not foolish enough to not have a guess as to what you were doing here at this hour, but hopeful enough a conversation might make you change the course. But the sound of your voice as you replied, ‘evening’, suggested there was a little chance you’d yield. 

There was much he could have done to try harder, yet he surrendered so soon. Who was he to resist your sheer will? The same will he’d tried to direct elsewhere in the past multiple times, yet it always returned to him. A seasoned warrior smart enough to recognize a losing battle when stumbling upon one, he would have known. 

Your eyes followed keenly as Capitano placed the mask from his hands onto the table. The man’s eyes looked piercing in the faint light of the room, no doubt even frightening to the less knowing. You couldn’t even see his face, only the broad frame of his back. Only the blue shine from the glistened against the reflection from the window, as if peering back at you. The sight overall something not seen every day, something most never saw.

There was no reason for your eyes to be the ones to be allowed to see, to watch and analyse. Or so you believed, if there was a reason neither of you dared to word it. As if doing so would unleash some sort of a spell neither of you wanted to see the aftermath of. There was only so much change a person could bare to their person, so whatever it was that Capitano refused to word, was good as it was. 

Of course, you hadn’t come here for simply the joy of visiting. That never seemed to have formed into a habit, but instead seeking him out when word of him rose from the troops. Anything alluding to his person, not the more usual reputation talk. If that ever changed was when it felt almost mandatory to see him. A difference in the behaviour of a person such as Capitano was sure to never go unnoticed. 

“How was your day?” You broke the silence, seemingly ignoring the reflection from the window. He wasn’t a man to hide himself from you, yet some part of you liked to imagine that respect made you not bring his condition up. Not so soon. 

Waiting for his response after a deep ‘hmp…’ felt like an eternity. Allowing you a chance to slip closer to his desk, eyes skipping mindlessly on the items he’d left there. His words had a deeper growl in them when he spoke so silently, “nothing out of the ordinary.” Which likely was true. Your eyes had scanned the papers on the table, a very few left there to linger. Nothing important ever left for the prying eyes to catch. Yet it proved his words correct, no straight lies ever told. He had no reason to lie to you, to hide anything. But the both of you knew the question had been intended for a deeper analysis of his day instead of an overall view. He hid things. Not out of malice, you knew better than to think such things. 

“That’s good,” you answered soon after. Straightening out a few of the papers, stacking them so the corners met each other in a straight line. The moment was so heavy and you’d only now started to realise as much. There was never much you could do if the murmurs around the troops turned out to be true. He felt so far away even when he was so close, merely on the other side of the desk.

You knew him, better than most, yet he’d seen more than any mortal could likely wrap their head around. So who were you to tell him that it would simply ‘be okay’ or that you were ‘there for him’ when you started to notice his gaze wander. He was not simply sad, he appeared melancholic. But at times even that seemed to be rooted so deep down within him that you couldn’t find a word to describe the emotion radiating from him. And he was unable to give you a word for it. Leaving the now physical distance between the two of you to form into a deeper pit of confusing aches. 

But there was also the root of the problem. This was by no means the first attempt of coming to him, seeking him out and attempting to figure out why his mind wandered. Where it was trying to get for it to be something he couldn’t word. What was the reason for the superficial answers, as if speaking to any one of his soldiers. Why let someone so close, but keep them at the threshold when they were willing to come in?

Though, thoughts like these felt ironic. Knowing you played along with this act of his, not only to entertain him but because it felt easy. How easy it was to allow him to care and dutifully take care of his tasks as he always had, and when it came time to actually connect with him to just let it slide each time. His actions never held any malice nor betrayal, there was no man more loyal to their own morals and comrades than him. So who were you to simply blame him for not letting you closer, when it was you who indulged in his way of communicating. 

“The men seemed to have lived a different day.” You commented after, hoping Capitano would pick up on what you meant. He was not foolish enough to be fully unaware of what his own men were doing and talking about when his back was turned. 

And you’d been correct, the comment made the man look down at you over his shoulder. The piercing eyes of his holding so much in them, it was hard to put to words, but you could tell he knew what you meant. And so you indulged in this way of communicating once more.

Seeing as he had nothing else to ‘say’, you continued. “Thankfully the snowfall gave in on the way here. It was an honest nuisance today…” Continuing to speak of the things you always did, the things you found slipping from your lips each time instead of the actual questions and words you wanted to say. But what use would that be when it felt as if there was no one who truly received those words. 

“Here’s to hope tomorrow will be better on that front,” you continued on alone but knowing full well he was listening, even if he knew exactly the topics you’d choose. The mantras you repeated. His attention on you while you slowly circled around the desk to his side, hand sliding against the smooth surface of the desk. The act as if a final cry to ask for him to reciprocate. 

The fabric of Capitano’s clothes rustled, the movement appearing heavier than they likely truly were. He gave you space near him, allowing you to join him near the window he’d been so keen on. “Hm, may it be so then.” He replied, leaving the end of his response hanging. As if there was more to be added, but left out due to the everlasting heaviness of the room and the air inside it. But you didn’t need more. Past a certain point the conversations you held as a coverup to attempt to communicate started being more tiring than standing in silence to try and understand him better. 

Your eyes gazed at the window, his reflection. Turning to peer at his face soon after. The rot, having consumed so much of the man he used to be, carved him into someone else. You had not seen how he’d looked all those years ago, but he’d insisted that even his comrades from then wouldn’t have been able to recognize him today. 

So how could you ever understand him truly? You weren’t sure what sort of explanation you were waiting to gain from him to make you understand, when there likely was none. He’d seemingly accepted his fate a long time ago, an eternal life ahead of him each morning he woke. Up until the day his body would falter at last. 

But in your eyes that was not a life worth leading on, not with the regrets you knew he held. How could a man rotting from the inside still yearn to fix something that hadn’t even been within his power to save in the first place?

You’d initially not even realised that was likely what he was thinking when his mind started to wander. Not when you’d first seen his face, seen the state he lived in each day. You’d initially feared he held some form of heaviness within him for the way he looked. For a human, losing everything you had and who you were would have been a fate worse than death. Losing the strength you held and the person you had been. Yet he held himself the same each day, seemingly no shame in his condition, if only a flickering light of anguish against the fate he’d been dealt. 

On top of that, he had seemingly never let himself fall to ruin. The person he’d been might have changed into something unrecognisable that could easily disturb the too comfortable. But this was a man of honour, a dignified soldier. For the sake of others, you’d concluded, he diligently kept himself clean. Kept the rot that bothered him not, from causing disturbances to the rest. 

So it was clear, by no means had he given up. He was in terms with who he was now, yet at times like these it seemed like his mind hadn’t. When you so clearly tried conversing, attempting to get him to speak his mind, he refused. Treating you gently, leading your conversation on for long enough to tire you and finally make you stop worrying for him. 

You gave the mask on the table a look, an attempt to lean back towards the topic. Neither of you had forgotten nor had it gone unnoticed by him either. Not now or earlier. 

Capitano followed your movements, eyes landing on the all too familiar mask. Not having to even gaze upon it to know what was being asked of him. And he wished, internally held up hopes that the rot was messing with his mind, feeding him thoughts that weren’t true. That you hadn’t come back to him out of sheer worry yet again.

He was ready to be moulded by you into any shape, ready to yield in front of you if that’s what you asked of him. He cared about what you thought, but in some sense wanted to keep you from worrying. The burdens he held within were self inflicted, he knew that much. A part of him knew the regrets he had were foolish, he couldn’t have done anything more than he had. So when he wasn’t driven mad by those thoughts, he had time to try and form a bond with you. A bond which he wished to not be based on a worry of him. 

He knew you were curious, that was only natural. That was why he’d been open about who he was now, what he could offer you anymore. But what would have been the point of going further into his thoughts, those were his burdens to bear. A fault in himself which he’d created. 

“Your cheek appears irritated?” You said silently, gazing at his face with keen eyes. Pausing for a moment as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry if that-” Backing away from what you’d said a little, cringing if it had come across mockingly. Capitano raised his hand slightly, pausing your rambling. “I know. No need to apologise, you’re fine,” he said after and watched as your expression softened back to normal. 

But you’d been honest, the irritation was no mere frostbite that’d got him. You’d seen it before when he hadn’t had the time to upkeep the condition. A neglect he didn’t participate willingly, but something his work on some occasions forced him to pick up. And which you’d find he let you take care of on those very certain occasions. The least you could do to ease your own worry and the yearning to communicate with him about himself. 

Your hand moved to brush some of his hair from his shoulder to a better position. Running your fingers through it gently so as to not tug him on accident. And he didn’t move, not even if you had. Watching you with the same fond expression he always seemed to. Following keenly when you turned your back to him, abandoning his hair and the caresses he’d grown fond of by that point. Rummaging through the upper drawer of his desk. 

The light in the room was rather dim, not allowing you to see what you were seeking for at first. But your hand knew the shape of the small jar containing a lotion you were familiar with. It was no match for something as detrimental as his condition, but seemingly if this world carried anything that did anything to combat it, it was worth it. 

You fiddled with the jar for a moment, turning it in your hands before daring to look back up at his towering form. He didn’t move an inch, even without the mask he appeared honourable as ever. To you, maybe even more so now. 

An old ache radiating from unsaid words and praises stung your chest at moments like these. An uncountable amount of exalted thoughts of him that you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, to make him understand that you wanted to share his burdens. None of them would make you view him any differently. No matter how many regrets, scars or rotten flesh would face you, he’d still be the same honourable and respected man in your eyes. 

Your eyes gave him an asking look, almost automatic. The request yet again something you couldn’t put into words, and that would leave an awful ache into your chest for not saying. But you adored how he still always understood, hesitated like he’d always done and still ended up accepting. It was you, after all. 

Capitano sat down on the chair behind him. The old wooden thing let out a small noise under the added weight, the room not falling fully silent after. He watched as you undid the lid of the jar, placed it on the table and carefully leaned closer. Taking some of the product onto your finger and with the same tenderness spreading it on the irritated parts. Yet, even from so close up it felt as if some sort of unremovable distance stayed. Always. 

Capitano closed his eyes for a moment, a low breath escaping him as his form allowed his shoulders to ease ever so slightly. Your touch was always gentle and careful, no matter how far he kept you from his burdens and regrets. So who was he to completely refuse your care? He never wished to turn you down or push you away, but he’d also had the time to rot for 500 years. Building something like this was exceptionally hard, and he’d only now come to figure out what that meant truly. 

You made sure the salve was nicely spread before pulling back, watching as his eyes opened after. Feeling how they followed you when returning back to the lid to put it back on. With movements clearly familiar to the situation, you placed the jar back into its rightful place, closing the drawer with a faint thud. 

“Thank you,” his low voice called out with the familiar growl at the end of his words. Capitano leaned onto his knees, pushing himself up from the chair to return back to the window. His silhouette appeared more frail than when he had the thick cloak on, something that somehow still surprised you every now and then. He was by no means a small man to begin with, yet the cloak changed him so much. Making you wonder if that was why he preferred wearing it so. 

You watched him walk up to the window, this time clearly gazing out rather than at his reflection. Following the now faint snowfall outside in silence. Following along from the side, attention moving back to his reflection at what almost felt like force. Mind so occupied by him it felt impossible to focus on the weather outside. 

You felt almost on edge with how much you wanted to tell him, let him know of what you thought about him to get him to tell you more. It felt almost as if something in your chest stung each time a good moment like this was spent in silence. 

Which was why you almost jumped when he began to speak, not turning around to do so, but nevertheless. “I understand you have your fair share of curiosities about this. But allow me to be selfish, and have you without burdens. And if that by itself is a burden too heavy to carry, you’re not obligated to stay. Know, you are respected even then.” Capitano’s familiar voice spoke, this time for longer than you’d heard during this entire time. Leaving you slightly shaken for a moment, though for an odd reason the air didn’t feel heavy. As if air itself had paused to allow you this conversation. 

And it stayed that way as you walked behind him, hesitating for a moment before placing your forehead against his broad back. Arms sneaking gently around his waist, lose in their hold as your eyes closed. You took a deep breath, mind ticking to form a response. Feeling Capitano tense for a mere moment in the hold before his muscles eased once more. 

Normally, no matter how many walls of protection you shattered from around him, he didn’t seem to react to anything. No matter if he was wearing the helmet or not. A part of you wondering if the corrosion was a sort of a mask itself. 

“I’m not going anywhere. But I don’t want the way I see you to be written on your epitaph. Let me in, make this easier.” The words coming out in a whisper loud enough for him to hear, but not disturb the usual silence. 

A low chuckle escaped Capitano, a part of him amused by the plea. But nevertheless taking it seriously, knowing you’d meant it. “You’re more hopeful than I am,” he replied with a hum. Placing his hands over yours, against himself. Pressing them together lightly, as if hoping that was an answer enough. Aware that it wasn’t, but using it as a way to ask for more time. 

He feared he’d overstep a boundary of sorts, if he told you of his thoughts on a deeper level. He didn’t wish to put them on your shoulders, protecting you from himself in a way. If that was one of the only things he could do for you, not expecting anything from you in return, ever. 

The squeeze from his hands made you lean against him more heavily, a gentle sigh escaping. Not bothering to feel frustrated, not at him. The curse wasn’t his fault, what’d happened to him wasn't his fault and he was in no way obligated to ever let someone so close as he’d allowed you. So even the smallest of actions kept you close to being carefree, in the sense that you didn’t fear that there was no way to help him. There was, and you’d allow him to show that path to you on his own terms. 

[meanbossart]

If DU Drow were to have the natural (long) lifespan of a drow and eventually became elderly and passed away while Astarion didn't age due to vampirism, how badly would Astarion take it?

I think Astarion has had a lot of time to process the special conditions that come with his vampirism. He seems to resent what he is but simultaneously try to embrace it. You get a feel for that when he asks you to compliment his appearance, and the responses that please him the most seem to be related to (but not explicitly about) characteristics that would have been acquired after he became a spawn. I suspect that a non-ascended Astarion would continue to grow in that respect.

Which means he would have to contemplate his own immortality, and hence the mortality of others. He also really desires independence and to develop self-reliability regardless of whether or not he has a partner (See: his reaction to the optional dialogue you have where you swear to protect him after his quest ends).

And, again, there is the fact that for a solid 200 years everyone he saw and was intimate with would immediately die/disappear. Whether he liked any of those people or not, that would leave some sort of long-lasting impression on a person - or lead them to develop mechanisms to cope with it.

So with all of that in mind, I think he wouldn't take it too badly. He'd grieve, he'd miss him, but he'd have a whole lot of un-life ahead of him to look forward to and would have spent a lot of time mentally preparing for the fact that he would outlive his significant other.

This all might seem awfully mature depending on how you take his character, but I just feel like Astarion is very much wired for independence and a "rolling with the punches" mindset if he doesn't ascend, for better or for worst. So he'd be perfectly capable of being very much in love while also ready to move on and build a different life for himself when the time came, while holding the memory dear still.

[agentoffangirling]

Bc of all this stuff of "Billy is the first gay character in the MCU", I have decided to compile a list of queer characters in the MCU, sorted by date so y'all know who the actual firsts are

The conditions are thus:

It is confirmed in the project by either the character themselves or by another person. Maybe they speak of a partner, or say "I'm gay" onscreen

It is confirmed outside of the project by a director, actor, writer, etc. The specific thing about this is that it must be spoken about openly, not just "oh I like that idea!". No, it must be said, "yes, we intended for this" "this character is queer", you get the idea. This means cases like where Chloe Bennet voiced support for an openly bi Daisy Johnson in "Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." will not be counted, for while she does like it, she doesn't confirm Daisy as bi

The project must be set in the MCU timeline. If it is the subject of a multiverse, then that must be when the multiverse started branching out. "Deadpool and Wolverine" counts, but all other X-Men movies will not count

With these conditions, it also means cases like Iceman will not be considered, as even though him being a mutant is written like a coming out scene, he is still treated as being entirely het

Does that make sense? Good, let's get going

Victoria Hand (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 1, 2013-2014): Lesbian, confirmed by actress

Isabelle Hartley (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 2, 2014-2015): Lesbian, stated by actress

Joey Gutierrez (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 3, 2015-2016): Gay, confirmed on screen

Jeri Hogarth (Jessica Jones, 2015-2019): Lesbian, confirmed on screen

Valkyrie (Thor: Ragnarok & Thor: Love and Thunder, 2017/2022): Bisexual, confirmed by actress and later confirmed on screen

Korg (Thor: Ragnarok & Thor: Love and Thunder, 2017/2022): Gay, only confirmed on screen in Love and Thunder

Karolina Dean (Runaways, 2017-2018): Lesbian, confirmed on screen

Nico Minoru (Runaways, 2017-2018): Bisexual, confirmed on screen

Ruby Hale (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 5, 2017-2018): Aesxual, confirmed by actress

Aneka (Black Panther & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, 2018/2022): Lesbian, confirmed by actress

Ayo (Black Panther & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, 2018/2022): Lesbian, confirmed on screen

Unnamed character played by Joe Russo (Avengers: Endgame, 2019): Unknown, confirmed on screen

Marcus Benson (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. season 6, 2019): Gay, confirmed on screen

Loki Laufeyson (Loki, 2021): Genderfluid and bisexual, confirmed on screen (it is worth noting that Loki was only confirmed as queer in the series, ten years after he made his debut, which is why I only count the series here. However our main timeline Loki is suggested to be same)

Sylvie Laufeydottir (Loki, 2021): Bisexual, confirmed by creators

Yelena Belova (Black Widow & Hawkeye, 2021): Aroace, hinted on screen, confirmed by writer

Phastos (Eternals, 2021): Gay, confirmed on screen

America Chavez (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, 2022): Lesbian, confirmed by actress

America's moms (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, 2022): Unknown, confirmed on screen

Mister Immortal (She-Hulk: Attorney at Law, 2022): Bisexual, confirmed on screen

Agatha Harkness (WandaVision & Agatha All Along, 2021/2024): Unknown, potentially sapphic or wlw, confirmed on screen

Rio Vidal (Agatha All Along, 2024): Unknown, potentially sapphic or wlw, confirmed on screen

Billy Maximoff (Agatha All Along, 2024): Gay, confirmed on screen

[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 2)

part 2 / ? .

❝ i’m also worried about me, but i somehow seem to be worried about you more. ❞ ❝ you put the stars to shame. let’s sit here a little while - i want to drink you in. ❞ ❝ i’d tell you not to get in trouble, but i suspect it will find you whether you like it or not. ❞ ❝ well, this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on. ❞ ❝ i just….need some air…clear my head. ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since i shed a tear. i don’t even know how long. ❞ ❝ i had a feeling you’d show up. it’s sort of our thing. like it’s fate or something. ❞ ❝ i do appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's try to restrain ourselves a little. ❞ ❝ if that was an attempt at flirting, i should let you know i prefer the strong, silent type. ❞ ❝ no matter how far you come, you’re still on the road to ruin. ❞ ❝ i thought you a hunter. wrong. you’re prey - small. snivelling. pathetic. ❞ ❝ and what am i owed? what about the injustices i’ve suffered - am i not entitled to anything? ❞ ❝ i can’t help but feel the strangest twinge of disgust as i look upon you. ❞ ❝ i trust that you will continue to remember who is really on your side. ❞ ❝ better a short life built on truth than immortality woven of lies. ❞ ❝ i won’t make excuses. i can’t make amends. but i want to help, if you’ll let me. ❞ ❝ gods, it’s horrifying…and a touch fascinating. ❞ ❝ there are many names for you --- and all of them inspire dread. ❞ ❝ destiny is at your door; won’t you at least twitch the curtain? ❞ ❝ the gravest crimes committed in this world are committed for love. a hunger crueller than bloodlust. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ revenge sounds so sweet until you’ve taken it. then all you have is…no one left to blame. ❞ ❝ some mistakes can’t be resolved with an apology. some mistakes, you have to carry with you, forever. ❞ ❝ you’re plotting something, aren’t you? come on then - out with it. ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ think of all we’ve been through just to get to this moment. that wasn’t luck. that was us. ❞ ❝ feel like i should laugh but i’m just too godsdamned tired. ❞ ❝ there is something i lost…no, had taken from me. i want it all back. ❞ ❝ careful - you’re in very real danger of hurting my feelings. ❞ ❝ one thing i’ve learned - real saviours never label themselves as such. ❞ ❝ less thinking of bad thoughts, and more breaking of bad bones. ❞ ❝ i rather like interfering. it’s kind of my thing. ❞ ❝ evil is evil, even if it once was innocent. ❞ ❝ you know, i've been catching myself smiling more lately. i think that's your fault.. ❞ ❝ oh, i’m no innocent. but evil? you tell me. ❞ ❝ i still want to believe you’re better than that. but even i am having my doubts. ❞ ❝ i can’t afford to lose my nerve. safer to just not think, and keep forging ahead. ❞ ❝ when all this is over, will you stay with me? for good? ❞ ❝ this is not good, if i may state the obvious. ❞ ❝ is there a reason you're always such an utter drip? do you have some sort of condition? honestly, it's like you hate good news. ❞ ❝ all of nature’s beauty pales in comparison to you. ��� ❝ i can’t save you from yourself. it hurts terribly, but i can’t. ❞ ❝ if i seem suddenly flush with hope and soft feeling, you have only yourself to blame. ❞ ❝ is there good and evil within us all? ❞

❝ i’ve been watching you fight. your skills are improving. ❞ ❝ you know, for all the sense of dread and horror seeping through this place, i really feel quite at home here. ❞ ❝ and you? you’re wholly without vice or sin or the occasional lapse in judgement? ❞ ❝ i wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are. but i do. ❞ ❝ one might say you’re paragon of luck. i’ll be there when it runs out. ❞ ❝ i've always had a soft spot for the confident ones…they always disappoint though. ❞ ❝ i concealed nothing from you. i simply left out the details that were not pertinent. ❞ ❝ you’re an odd friend. but, i suppose, a friend still. ❞ ❝ i won’t let you do this. i won’t let you win. ❞ ❝ you are my puppet. make no mistake. without me, you have no value. ❞ ❝ well, this seems like a lovely little spot. the sense of impending doom aside. ❞ ❝ whoever your enemies are, they have good reason to fear you. ❞ ❝ this place is astonishing, a bard’s tale made real. ❞ ❝ i may not regret my actions, but i do regret that they were necessary. ❞ ❝ experience has taught me that no matter how bleak things look, there’s always hope. ❞ ❝ if this adventure has taught me anything, it’s that there are things in this world more valuable than power. ❞ ❝ a wise man learns from his mistakes, and strives not to repeat them. ❞ ❝ no more hiding things from me. agreed? ❞ ❝ my friend. my companion. i adore you. ❞ ❝ your face is sour. by all means leave, if i am so distasteful. ❞ ❝ careful, it’s dark around here. would be a terrible shame to lose you forever. ❞ ❝ you startled me. i…i was miles away. ❞ ❝ you have to know who i was. you have to know who i really am. ❞ ❝ nothing special, of course. you’re only the first person who i truly care for. ❞ ❝ you’ve got a backbone, and the makings of a leader. ❞ ❝ anything you ask, i’ll answer as honestly as i can. ❞

[kiyans-corner]

"the lazarus pit caused his bullshit" "no he was just a completely unhinged psychopath" guys.

GUYS.

every single one of you is ignoring the part where he was kept in a literal cult for anywhere from what, one to three-ish years? do you know how cults work. do you know how they slowly, carefully change your thought patterns to suck you in, even when you know good and damned well it's a cult? do you know what kind of targets they select, the kind of people they prey on? (hint! isolated teens are pretty common prey! especially if they're injured, salty af at the world, and feel like they owe the cult member/s something. like their mind back after being cared for while in that condition, for example)

do you know how much they MINDFUCK YOU ON PURPOSE. hard enough to make dozens to hundreds of people commit mass suicide. hard enough to get VOLUNTARY sex slaves and trafficking victims. hard enough to completely normalize prepubescent kids being married to grown ass adults 30 and up. hard enough that intentionally recruited cult members will recruit people without even realizing that's what's happening. literally after a while all the leader/s have to do is ProfitTM

the league has normalized everything from carefully calculated murder to literal child assassins (to the degree of CASS ffs) to worldwide political meddling (mostly via murder!) to everyone just. being completely chill about this old-ass immortal fuck having/keeping a whole ass grandson for the SOLE PURPOSE of bodyjacking him and then having consistent beef with a literal teenager

do... do any of you know how cult deprogramming works. do you know how long it takes WITH extensive help and support, even with the least fucked up ones that just give you a new spin on a religion and lifestyle so the leader/s can jack your money.

are we really just going to keep ignoring all of this instead of utilizing the more reasonable reasoning (applies with or without long-term pit effects!) to it's full potential

I know they'll never touch it in canon bc DC is lame about actually addressing any sort of interesting new applications of anything for a lot of the more jacked up shit that would provide fun story lines and actual resolution in favor of just never mentioning it again upon pain of death, but not ever having seen this take even once in a discussion or fic makes me sad :(

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Seeking a fresh start, you and three others rent an old house in the countryside. There’s an issue with the boiler, but other than that, the place is in good condition. Your friends fall in love with the mansion’s aged charm and solitude. You wish you could join them in their excitement. Unfortunately, you can’t stop thinking about the basement. Something about the cool, barren atmosphere both tempts and horrifies you. You get the sense that, if you ever tread there, the darkness won’t hesitate to engulf you. Your final breath, as your soul is expelled from your body, will be used to utter the culprit’s name: Alucard. Only in death will you find reprieve. The problem is, he doesn’t intend to let you perish. Pretty puppet, your suffering is merely the beginning of an immortal life by his side. Modern AU.

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors don’t interact), angst, horror, psychological manipulation, sexual themes, violence.

Next l

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

hello yes happy october do some of y’all remember this og story? couldn’t resist rewriting it for spooky season. and make no mistake — when I say spooky season, I don’t just mean october. fall and winter are seasons where odd things happen, usually out in nature. lets make these next few months extra chilling

The Basement’s Monster: Prelude

From the landing and through the open door, stairs made of old, unreliable wood dip down into a black abyss. Stone walls guide their path — wherever it may go — spurring the pleasant scent of damp cement and pungent moss. You can’t see the bottom. And despite this, part of you knows that there’s something there; something that’s ravenous.

You swallow. Both palms gripping the door frame, you feel as though your shoes are embedded in thick glaciers of ice, glueing you firmly in place. There’s a tug in your heart. It implores you to descend. It halfway convinces you that monsters and demons and all beings of lore don’t exist. You’re content that you know better than to indulge in cowardice disguised as logic.

Normally, you don’t believe in this sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in your life that you’ve been incapable of explaining — until now. You don’t know how to conceptualize what you felt upon walking through the door of this decrepit mansion. A mixture of sorrow and yearning, perhaps, with an additional emotion you can’t put your finger on. In any case, it drew you all the way here, to the basement door.

“(F/n)!”

You perk up. Her voice is distant, but that’s your friend. She’s upstairs with the real estate agent and the others. You open your mouth to call back. You can’t muster a sound. With a shaky hand, you rub the front of your neck. The sensation that there’s a palm pressed against it, squeezing only subtly, is unnerving. Predictably, there’s nothing there.

Defeated, you close your dry lips and direct your attention back to the darkness. You peer through the shadows, as though your eyes are capable of slicing through all obscurity, powerful as the Light of Christ. A sobering quote from Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil resounds in your head. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. You would be a fool to think the beast isn’t examining you, too.

On cue, words as bitter and husky as a tannic merlot travel a short distance to rest in your ears. His tone, deep and masculine, grips your shoulders like the talons of a mythical creature. Instantly, it stirs unrest in the pit of your waning soul. You can’t tell if you’re dissociating or on the cusp of a spiritual awakening.

Come, little one. Find me.

Gooseflesh appears on your arms. Your nipples harden when you register the breeze wafting up from the passageway. Your jaw unhooks, teeth chattering softly as you process what just transpired.

Realistically, there’s no way this is real. You hate to sound generic, but you conclude that it must have been your imagination; in fact, all of this probably is. You and your friends have been watching more horror movies than usual to amp up for Halloween. Haunted houses freak you out, and your brain has decided to torture you this evening.

Your knuckles are white from the force with which you’re gripping the frame, frightened that your will, alone, won’t be enough to keep you from exploring. You want to be positive that this truly is all in your head. The basement beckons for you to debunk the reality you’ve dedicated yourself to — the convenient lie that there are solely mortals residing on this plane of existence.

You want to satiate that curiosity of yours, no? Its teasing snicker is innately threatening. Come, pretty human.

Your head spins. Dizziness washes over you, nearly causing a heavy collapse. The voice is anxiety-inducing. You’re hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

You’re going crazy; that’s the only viable solution for this spell of hallucinations and delusions. Ghosts don’t exist. Demons don’t exist. Satan is an arguable concept.

But I classify myself as none of those creatures, sweetness.

When you let your eyelids fall, a silhouette appears in the darkness. You inhale sharply and refrain from blinking. You have to find your friends; unsupervised and weak, you could topple forwards and fall down the stairs.

Though I command fear not unlike the Archfiend, I do so to those who earn it.

Tears pool the bottoms of your strained petals, lubricating your orbs as you battle the trepidation afflicting you. You try to focus on your quivering breath. You can hear its tremble, as well as your quickening heartbeat, in your ears. It’s causing your temples to pound.

You don’t want to blink… but you have to.

You whimper meekly, the demon’s silhouette becoming clearer to you. It’s a being with a blood-coloured fedora and round, reflective lenses. He’s wearing a crimson overcoat, ruffled at his wide shoulders. You can’t decipher any more of his physical features; he’s intentionally shrouded them.

And you have not earned my ire.

In a deranged, wretched way, his claim placates you. If, in any form, this thing that’s haunting you is real, you want to trust that it means you no harm. You know that’s a fool’s game, however; main characters seldom benefit from bearing their neck to the foe.

I’ve been waiting for you, (f/n).

You blink. The silhouette is getting closer to you. Hes halfway up the basement stairs, and you can’t move a fucking inch.

Open your mind to me.

You’re panicking. You don’t want to let him in, but how does one open or close their mind? Again, if this is real, you’re a sitting duck to his influence. He’s far stronger than you could ever hope to be.

Your eyelids shut. He’s almost at the top step. You make out pale skin beneath a white dress shirt that’s accented with a scarlet ascot. Once more and he’ll have you.

That’s it; let me in.

He’s close enough to choke you. These were the hands you could have sworn you felt on your neck earlier; these were the fingers that toyed with the idea of wringing the vitality from your supple soul. Inwardly, you’re frantic. You might have a heart attack before this monster reaches you. Your pupils dilate as the man materializes in the darkness, like a menacing apparition. You wish you could run. Why can’t you run… why can’t you run?!

“(F/n)!”

You gasp. In an instant, his illusion is shattered; the beast retreats in the presence of a love, sucked back into his hole. You blink, and his figure is gone. No part of him, aside from the chilling memories he’s imprinted on you, remains.

You allow yourself to inhale greedily. Your lungs feel empty. Your heart doesn’t cease its galloping — it won’t for a while. An anxiety attack vibrates like thunder in your body. Whether you grasp it or not, this is merely the calm before the storm.

Mindfully, you crane your neck to the side, collecting your gaze from the unpredictable darkness. It’s a feat. The demon doesn’t want to release you from his manipulative hold, but he’s perceivably weaker than before. The presence of another human is diffusing his hypnosis.

There, a few feet away, stands the same friend who was calling your name earlier. Her name’s Ericson. Chocolate brown orbs sweep over you, assessing your physical state. Worry clouds them when she notices your expression. She tucks a long, brown strand behind her ear and swallows.

“Oh, shit… you don’t look so good.”

Fortunately, Ericson isn’t one to waste time. The young woman hooks her elbows beneath your arms and pries you away from the basement door. She helps you into a chair near the landing of the stairs. From there, she does what you were silently begging her to do; she shuts the basement door and secures the latch.

You exhale, unburdened and breathless. Finally, the nightmare has ended. You don’t hear his voice. You don’t see his image. You don’t feel drawn to his domain. You may be free of him. That begs the daunting question, though; if he wasn’t a product of your sanity slipping, what the fuck was he?

You groan, pressing cool fingertips to your warm forehead. Have you been stressed? Sure. Stress, alone, doesn’t warrant hallucinations, however. Until you have further evidence that you’re cracking, you have no choice but to believe what you experienced was beyond what mortals comprehend about existence.

“I… don’t know what just happened.” You confess, at last. “I felt… like I had to see the basement.”

Ericson rubs your shoulders from behind the chair, soothing you. It’s sweet of her. Your thoughts are marathoning at an Olympic pace, but your body is rooted in a slower reality.

“And… there was a guy down there… but… he wasn’t… he wasn’t…”

You’re unable to utter that you don’t think the perpetrator was another human being. It sounds silly, even as you rehearse the sentence in your head. Ericson will think you’re losing it.

“Easy.” She utters gingerly. “Chill out for a sec before you say more.”

She’s right. You could stand to decelerate. You take a moment to recalibrate yourself. What were you doing before this? Right. You were surveying the downstairs portion of the house while the others toured upstairs. You couldn’t shake your compulsion to investigate the basement. From the moment you walked through the front gate of the yard, and ventured up the cobblestone path, an invisible rope was tied around your torso, tugging it towards the monster. Ericson wouldn’t be telling you to settle down if she knew what was lurking directly below her feet.

Did she, or any of the others, feel it, too? You gulp. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

“This whole place feels wrong.” You admit vaguely. “Don’t you think?”

Much to your chagrin, she seems perplexed by your appraisal.

“Actually, we were just saying how peaceful it is here.”

Visibly, you recoil. Oof. Well, you can’t fault them for that. The market for renting a house is steep. You and your friends only found the posting for this estate because you wanted to move further away from the city. The renter — a family member of the previous owner, an old man — is offering the property for an exceptional price. If they don’t go with this one, they may not find a better deal.

“Look.” You start. “I felt something weird when I was standing near the basement… and it freaked me the fuck out.”

Ericson is adhering to you intently.

“What happened? Seriously. You said you saw a guy?”

“It wasn’t a guy so much as it was… like, a ghost or something.”

He wasn’t a ghost or a spectre, a demon or a moniker of Satan; he said so, himself. Nonetheless, at a loss for how else to describe him, that’s the fictional being you elected to choose. He doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, in books of old, in legends transcending cultures, in hieroglyphs from ancient people long gone — he’s something else entirely.

“A ghost?” She echoes.

“I don’t know.”

The two of you are quiet. She doesn’t buy your story. You can feel her judging you as she walks around the chair. Finally, she kneels in front of you. There’s a solemn emotion on her gentle visage.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” She asks. “I can install, like, ten locks on the basement door.”

You smile. It might not permanently solve the problem, but it does make you feel safer. Crazy or not, you want to stay separated from the basement. If you all agree to seal it up tight, you may be willing to accommodate their desire to rent. After all, you have no qualms with it beyond the monster that’s made a home in its guts.

“I’m just sketched out.”

She nods.

“Seems like it.”

“I just— I really think I saw something down there.”

“I believe you.”

She doesn’t, though. It’s uncomfortable to be the sole one who has an issue with this place. To the untrained eye, it looks like you’re purposefully being difficult. Guilt and shame wash over you. Is it fair for you to be writing this home off without hearing the opposite to your opinion?

“You all like it here?”

You prompt your friend.

“We do.” She shrugs. “It’s a forty-five minute drive to work for Nelly.”

That’s another one of your friends. She’s keeping her profession in the city, so it’s necessary for her to approve of the distance between there and her new pad. A commute of under an hour was one of her requests. Her second and final request is that the house is quiet. That’s two for two.

“Cree wants to head into town to look for work.”

Unsurprising. Cree didn’t do anything with his degree. He’s saving up to attend graduate school. As for town, it isn’t anything extravagant. There’s a small grocery store with a liquor hub inside, and a convenience store that’s open ‘til 9 beside it. A pharmacy is on the same strip of land, along with a hardware store. Pump-your-own gas is a couple kilometres down the street. Two cafes and a bookstore caught your eye when you were driving in. A couple of fast food joints, as well. Doesn’t Cree want better opportunities for himself? Maybe he can earn more money elsewhere.

“The previous owner didn’t have access to the Internet, but the realtor tested the connection and didn’t have a problem.” She explains. “So, I’m thinking I’ll do data entry and school.”

That makes sense. Ericson doesn’t need to leave the homestead often, so she’s comfortable in any location with wifi. A chill runs down your spine at the notion of her in this hellhole alone. That would make her easy prey.

“You said you’d need the Internet for work too, right?”

“Oh… yeah.”

That’s true. Your job is remote. You and Ericson can look out for each other, if all else fails. It might not be so bad. With one car shared amongst the four of you, and no community bus stops in this county, it’s not like she can forsake you. Already, the prospect of not being by yourself feels better.

Ericson studies your expression. She can tell you’re deliberating hard on whether or not to move into this option. Biassed, she prays she can convince you. She racks her brain to determine what she can use to show you how secure you’ll be with them. Beyond wanting to live here, she doesn’t care for the fear in your eyes. Although she doesn’t subscribe to the idea of supernatural creatures, she makes it her mission to comfort you.

“Nelly pole dances.”

“What?”

“Nelly pole dances.” She reiterates. “Do you know how much upper body strength that woman has? We’re safe with her.”

You suppose she’s an asset when it comes to physical threats. You ponder. Does the creature in the basement manifest itself into this sphere; could Nelly hurt him?

“And Cree offered to smudge us before we move in.”

You lift a curious brow.

“Smudge us?”

“Yeah. Like, he’ll cleanse the house too, obviously, but he said he wants us all to enter this chapter of our lives in a good place.”

Cree is an indigenous man. Proudly, he bears the same namesake as his people. His father was a healer, and thus, he carries with him similar techniques and energies, passed along by lineage and teaching. Again, you feel safer knowing he’s got the best intentions for you.

“And you know me.” She winks cheekily. “Orange belt.”

You chuckle shortly. She recently graduated from yellow to orange in her adult karate class. Soon after, she admitted that she knows a few defensive moves. She’s certainly not someone you’d want to rely on during a physical altercation, but she’s great for introducing logic into the conversation and, of course, comedic relief.

“With these things considered, would you be willing to give this place a chance?”

You want to be down; you want so badly to be down. You can tell this is where your friends wish to move, but you can’t shake the sensation that renting it would be a horrible idea. It isn’t your anxiety talking; there’s a predator beneath you.

“I need the realtor to check the basement.”

That’s your condition. If the realtor agrees to verify that no one else is in the house, and nothing is amiss in its depths, you’re willing to give the ageing building a shot.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” You authenticate. “And the day we pick up the keys.”

The entity could be attached to one of the former’s tenant’s personal items. If that’s the case, moving his things out will eliminate the issue entirely. You’ve heard stories like that before, wherein a spirit is tied to a belonging and not the house it inhabits.

“Done.” Ericson claps. “Anything else?”

You shake your head. If things get exceptionally bad, you understand that the option of subletting your room will always be there. As much as you don’t want to contemplate having to abandon your companions, this thing only seems to be attacking you for now. Removing yourself could turn out to be the route you have to take in the end, should you want to retain your sanity.

“I’m in, so long as nothing strange happens during the inspections.”

Directly below your feet, the creature hums. Nothing weird. Fine, that’s a condition he can meet if it means he gets to keep you. He’ll shrink himself when the realtor steps into his space. The room will be welcoming. You’ll have no room to argue about a foreboding atmosphere without losing credibility. You’re a smart woman; you won’t disagree with the verdict for the sake of appeasing your friends.

He’s amused by your silly antics to hopelessly protect yourself. Smudging won’t help. He isn’t a spirit, and your ancestors can’t save you from the type of creature he is. Undead, he may be, but not the sort that hovers inches above the ground and howls mournfully through the tombstones; on the contrary, he’s a vampire.

He observes you with pleasant curiosity, as Ericson embraces your silent form giddily. She successfully convinced you to take up residence in this home. He didn’t have to influence her to do so; the house sold itself. But you understand the dangers that lurk down here, don’t you? Yes. Sweet little lamb, your pure heart calls to his pungent blackhole, coaxing him like prey frollicking through a clearing. He will have no choice but to pounce, should he entrance you into his domain.

You were correct to think that he’s bound to an item. He can go no further than the top landing, just beyond the basement door, and therefore, his influence over mortals is weak. The last time he roamed this earth freely was decades ago, in London, England. After a grand battle over two decades ago, he was bound to an amulet by a member of the Hellsing family. Miserably, it was his old master, Integra’s, last bitter gift to him; she never wanted him to taste true freedom.

Unfortunately, the old man has no relation to that family. If he was, the nightstalker might have given him a slow, painful death to make reparations between him and the Hellsings. Unceremoniously, he simply found the amulet at a thrift store. He demanded to see it outside of its locked display case. The second he held it, the vampire took advantage of his feeble nature. He bought the piece of jewellery. From then, until the day his relatives put his home up for rent, one name slithered through his transfixed mind: Alucard. He served only Alucard.

Disappointment rocked him when he realized that the male’s aged body was unable to handle the tasks required for him to be released from the amulet. He can’t kill a woman and spill her blood over his jewel. He can’t restrain you and force the gaudy thing around your neck. And he sure as hell can’t slit his own throat with all the dull blades he has lying around; he lacks the physical strength.

Planning to remove the old man for his senile behaviour — particularly when most of his oddities were spurred by Alucard’s sinister influence — was a rich outcome that the shapeshifter prayed to Death for. He wanted to lure someone like you into his clutches. He was waiting for an opportunity to be freed from his constricting prison.

He knows the amulet can’t be placed anywhere in clear sight. The realtor will see it if he makes the hiding spot too obvious. He’ll have to make one of your roommates discover its location — or, maybe you’re the perfect candidate for the task. He hasn’t decided how he wishes to orchestrate his release from this cursed piece of jewellery yet. One thing’s for certain, though; you’re going to play a crucial role in his resurgence. The others may perish in what is to come, but you? He’s growing a soft spot for you.

You’re guided upstairs to rejoin the rest of your crew. There are two more people on the second floor, not including the agent. He smirks. Oh, how he enjoys culling a delicate herd.

He reflects on his past. Earlier in his life, when he was being stalked along the slopes of Romania by van Hellsing and his crew, he took an interest in two young women. Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker were the epitome of innocence, both in different ways. The true enjoyment lied in corrupting them, sometimes gradually, as they descended into darkness with their hesitant hands in his. Seras Victoria provided a similar rush of exhilaration, centuries later.

Over time, the amulet is weakening, allowing for him to use more of his powers in the confined space that he has. What kind of sharp adrenaline will rush through his icy veins as he hunts you? What sort of lust will you stir in his chest, a dead garden with thorns sharp enough to puncture, and long branches that impale? Perhaps your story as (f/n) will come to a close when his fangs dip into your neck, syphoning your life for his pleasure, and begin anew as his beautiful, undead wife, destined to serve him for several eternities.

[avelera]

A few random thoughts about the comic issue of "Men of Good Fortune" in The Sandman and how they pertain to Dreamling as a ship based on the show.

I get the sense when reading MoGF that it's a... shall we say, "young" story? It's the sort of story that has its seeds in your high school creative writing class. You're learning about English history and you're also writing short stories and you think, "Wouldn't it be cool if two guys met every 100 years to talk about these events I'm learning about and it's the same guys because they're immortal?"

I say this in part because I wrote a similar story in high school without having read MoGF, but also because it's a very simple story with no actual plot arc, nothing actually changes by the end in the original comic. The addition of Dream "missing" the meeting adds a lot of weight and consequence that isn't there in the comic. The closest it gets is, "Dream says he's not going to come to the next 1989 meeting but then a bunch of stuff happens off screen and he shows up anyway, thus confirming they are indeed friends." That is barely a plot beat of any kind, nothing really changes, it just clarifies that they are friends, which we could have suspected the whole time.

Anyway, on that note, I've got a deep-seated suspicion that in the very earliest drafts of this story, Dream was Death. Because it makes sense. Death spares a commoner on the condition that he report back every century to tell about how his life is going. Also, Death is certain that this mortal will want to die at some point because of all the horrible things he's living through, but in the end he doesn't and they become friends.

Again, this is a very simple story, basically a fable. Then this story is lifted into a new setting, the Sandman universe, and the antagonist of Death is turned into Dream but Death is still there, because Death as a figure makes much more sense than Dream as the basis for this wager.

I've commented many times before that Hob has less than nothing to go on as far as guessing Dream's identity but that one very natural conclusion he could come to is that Dream is Death because Death is much easier and thematically consistent with what happens in the story than Dream. Dream even remarks in the show (paraphrased) that, "[He] is far more terrible than Death," which objectively makes very little sense other than in their personal mannerisms.

But Dream's curiosity as to Hob's will to live isn't all that consistent with his function as Lord of Dreams, can you really tell me that the Lord of Dreams can't conceive of a mortal that would want to live forever, who wouldn't dream of living forever? IMO this is one more piece of evidence that the story was lifted from an earlier draft where there is no Dream and Death, there is only Death and Hob, with Death left in as sort of a homage to the original premise and to explain why Dream would get involved at all in such a wager.

It also kind of explains why the implications of this centuries-long friendship get largely ignored until quite late in the Sandman comics. Dream would be Hob's only constant, at least that he can speak to and isn't like the Sun and the Moon or something, and yet our only nod to this is very very late in the comics.

Again, I think this is because in a fable about Death and A Normal Guy meeting over and over as a commentary on English history, it makes perfect sense that you wouldn't really explore the interpersonal implications of how Hob feels about this guy, if Hob cares about this guy, because it's Death, clearly this is just a fable.

But once it's not Death, once it's someone else, once Dream's interactions with this guy actually don't align with his function, actually rather glaringly doesn't align with his function such that his relationship with Hob actually becomes Dream's biggest singular point of individuality, the biggest piece of proof that he is an individual person and not just his function because watching this guy live has nothing to do with his function because he's not Death, then we also begin to wonder how important are these guys to one another, as individuals, because it's not a simple, streamlined fable anymore about Death and Just A Guy meeting.

Basically, I think that as is often the case, the inconsistencies are what give some of Gaiman's juvenilia works the charm that they have. They raise more questions than they answer, because they're not rigorously plotted and the implications of certain story decisions aren't explored, for example even how magic like immortality works in this world doesn't really make consistent sense (ex. Orpheus and Hob have very different immortalities within the same story despite both being gifted by Death, one can't choose to die whenever he wants and there's no explanation as to why this is other than The Story Demands It, which is rather clumsy but does lend to a sense of myth).

It's not until much later in the author's career in the comic and (retconned with) the show that the narratives begins to inquire into things like, "What do these two individuals mean to each other as people. Does Hob mourn Dream, or think of him when he's not there? Does the singularity of Hob in Dream's life matter to him, or give him pause?" all questions that would be absurd in a simplistic fable about Death and Just A Dude but once lifted from that original context, create fascinating inconsistencies that begin to matter and become fodder for deeper explorations as seen in fanfiction and shipping these two characters.

[exactlycleverpirate]

Timeline from Xavier's Perspective Part 1

EDIT: This has been updated to include the endings of all myths as well as some other information.

(Includes spoilers for basically everything, including all myths.)

This is an update of my earlier post. Part 2 here.

If you are interested in more speculation than facts, check out my Half-baked Theories and Wild Theories About Rafayel. For an in-depth exploration of Rafayel’s story, see What Happened to Lemuria and Rafayel and Rafayel's Timeline Redux Part 1. For current game story see Love and Deepspace: the Story So Far Part 1.

Timeline from Xavier's perspective (Part 1/Philos):

Xavier is born on Philos. He is the Crown Prince of the royal family. Life is connected to the core of Philos, making him and most people on Philos immortal while the planet remains. Philos has a fake core that is holding together the separate tectonic plates of former Earth. Travel between these plates is difficult (no oceans?).

214 PT (Philos Time) Xavier went to school with MC in year 214, which is 214 years after the destruction of earth. MC has a fatal heart condition. Some of the professors lived on Earth before its destruction. Xavier is under constant guard and has little freedom. (Anecdote 3)

217 PT MC and Xavier become friends and fall in love. She gives him the star charm tassel that she made.

Xavier finds out MC is dying. They go on a date to see a meteor shower by a salt flat. After this, Xavier disappears for a month.

MC escapes the hospital to go to the salt flat. Xavier finds her there and has the protocore that is supposed to be able to save her, but it is too late. She dies in his arms. Xavier promises to seek her out in her future lives.

Zayne's Myth. Zayne guards the Creatio protocore in a frozen tower as a Foreseer of Astra. The royal family sends him emissaries seeking a prophecy every 100 years, but they never return. MC is a gardener with a fatal heart condition and is seeking the Creatio protocore to save her life. (Is this the same protocore that Xavier found in her first life on Philos?) Zaybe says if she can make the jasmine on the balcony of the Tower bloom, she can go free.

MC and Zayne have been stuck in a loop, where MC seeks out the Creatio to heal her dying heart, Zayne falls in love with her, she dies, his memories are erased (but preserved as fragments in an illusory jasmine garden), and she is reincarnated to do it all again. This is happening because of some sort of resonance link between MC and the Creatio, which makes it so the Creatio can power itself by draining her life.

After the jasmine on the tower blooms, Zaybe remembers what has happened to them in the past. Zayne breaks the cycle by fusing the Creatio to MC's heart, healing her. He is then locked in an eternal slumber in the Tower of Thorns behind an eternal blizzard as punishment by Astra. MC is free, and her heart appears to be healed, but she can no longer get to Zayne.

30,000 PT Assuming the seas dried up when Earth was destroyed and became Philos, Rafayel's Myth takes place around this time. MC was born from the depths of the earth. She has a special heart that makes the people of Philos immortal and is guarded in a palace, treated as a princess, and not allowed to leave.

Child MC is gifted a young Rafayel as a Lemurian slave. She sets him free. (Rafayel later tells her he allowed himself to be caught on purpose.)

MC meets Rafayel as adults while she is attempting to escape the palace. He helps her. They continually meet up and she learns he was the boy she released as a child. Rafayel, Amund, and other Lemurians are killing human nobles. Rafayel tells MC this is not out of revenge, but rather somehow part of an effort to restore Lemuria/the oceans. MC asks how she and Rafayel can be bound as he never gave her one of his scales. He says their bond was formed when the oceans still existed. MC has vague memories of living in a hut on the Island of Songs surrounded by ocean. 

Rafayel and Amund are plotting to recover “the God of the Sea’s (Rafayel’s) heart from MC by cutting it out with a dagger on the Island of Songs. However, the heart must be given willingly. Rafayel is uncertain whether the legends are true about killing MC to restore the oceans and Lemuria. Per the legend, the goal seems to be attaining Absolute Power. According to the legend, “Lemurians who seeketh Absolute Power: Combat the treacherous tides. Dive into The Deep for pearls. Find a true love. When blessed with a true love’s kiss, claim her heart by your own hand. A heart, pure, flawless-and filled with love. It is the best offering humans can give to Lemurians. -Lemurian Ruins, Slate No. 0065, Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God”. (Amund has served multiple Gods of the Sea over the centuries. Are these all reincarnations of Rafayel or are there multiple Gods of the Sea?)

6 months after Rafayel and MC celebrate her birthday, he and Amund take her to the Island of Songs, which she recognizes. She remembers her past life with Rafayel and realizes that Rafayel will fall into eternal slumber and the seas will never be restored if she does not return his heart. She offers to cut it out, but Rafayel refuses, saying he and the Lemurians will have to find their own way to change to story. He attempts to erase her memories and sever their bond to save her. Rafayel calls her his beloved bride.

MC is returned to the palace with no memories of Rafayel, but she watches the blue fish he gave her when they were young and slowly begins to remember. Hearing that the Lemurians are on the verge of being captured, and remembering that Rafayel intends to leave, she runs out of the city to find him, her memories and their bond once more intact.

Unsure how to resolve things, they set out on a camel across the desert to find Whalefall City. Amund is with them. Rafayel suggests that somehow by going to Whalefall City, he’ll be able to show her the sea. (Based on the Tender Moment, Whalefall Lament, it seems likely that Whalefall City is the name of the Lemurian city under the sea that Rafayel grew up in as a child on Earth.) The blue fish in the palace turns into a scale, presumably the one he gifted her to form their bond.

Xavier meets MC again at a Philos Academy as knights in training, sometime near the end of Philos’ life as a planet. Jeremiah goes to the Academy too. Xavier is the Crown Prince, but avoids returning to the royal family, remaining at the Academy instead.

During his Gladius Ceremony in the Starfall Forest, Xavier discovers that the forest contains the hollow heart of Philos and consumes people to power the long-dead core. This creates Wanderers. Xavier realizes protocores used to contain hearts. MC notices his attitude/demeanor changes noticeably after this trial. He rejects his role of Crown Prince after this.

The king dies, and Xavier disappears for about 200 years. 

MC and Xavier meet up again while investigating Starfall Forest. Jeremiah is part of MC’s squad. Xavier reveals what he learned about the forest to MC. He tells her that the royal family used to send human sacrifices into the forest. Then they discovered a truly immortal person who could die and come to life over and over, continually powering the planet. MC does not realize he is talking about her. She realizes the woman who gave him the star tassel is the same woman who reincarnates.

Xavier begins planning a backtracking expedition through spacetime in order to find a way to save MC and Philos. Jeremiah decides to join the team. MC decides to stay and become Queen to protect the people of Philos until Xavier can return. Xavier says that when he returns, he will be her knight. She gives him her little star badge, saying she knows that it can't replace the star tassel. He tells her only one person has ever given him a little star, but she doesn't understand what he means.

Xavier leaves MC’s service, and she fakes his death, claiming he died with honors. He is viewed as a traitor by the people of Philos. MC does not believe he will ever return.

Timejump.

See Part 2 here for Earth Timeline

A thought: Is the reason that MC is considered the only true immortal because she has or is connected to Rafayel/The God of the Sea’s heart? Lemurians appear to be naturally immortal, though not undying.

[infiniteimaginings]

True Loves Kiss (Rumplestiltskin x Male!Reader)

Summary: Rumplestiltskin is an old friend of yours, you've known him for quite a while. He introduced you to his new maid for saving a kingdom from the great ogre war, what will happen when this 'maid' tells you her research for breaking curses? Pronouns: You/Yours, He/Him Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 4.6k A/N: This is specifically because someone asked for it in the comments (@aggsh-shs) and I will always write for once upon a time. This is also way longer than I expected it to be, can you guys tell I'm obsessed with this show?

The enchanted forest, a beautiful and daring realm filled with magic and wonder. A world where fairytales exist, where happy endings are prominent. But, where there is light, there is darkness. Where there is magic, there are loopholes. Where there is good, there is evil.

Within the enchanted forest, there was an extremely powerful man…well, he wasn’t a man per say. Man is humanity, and this creature was far from human. He had green, scaly skin, a dark grin, no sense of morals it seemed. He was a magical being, blessed or cursed with immortality, he was a witch, a monster. This being used his time in the enchanted forest to gain all the knowledge he possibly could by intimidation, he ripped people's hearts out, he created curses, he destroyed lives to be as powerful as possible.

This being, this monster, this crocodile, was named Rumplestiltskin. He was also known as the dark one, a magical entity that is corrupted with darkness, enveloped in the heinous shadows that surround the name, the whispers of the past dark ones swirling in their heads.

He resided in a fairly large dark castle with what seemed to be thousands of floors, rooms, everything. It was such a large castle, yet he was the only one who resided in such a space. No one was concerned if he was lonely though, why would people worry if the monster who comes to their towns and invokes fear into them is lonely?

No one was concerned until Rumplestiltskin had been spinning straw into gold, a usual pastime for him, it helped him think. His thinking time had been ruined by someone walking through a door to the side of his main room, his prize.

By prize it’s more of a condition. He had protected a kingdom from the great ogre war, meaning that he created a magical barrier around the kingdom to keep the ogres at bay. Therefore giving no reason for the kingdom to send their men to kill themselves for. Within this condition, he requested their princess in exchange for his help, the king disagreeing but the princess went ahead and sacrificed herself.

Her name was Belle, she was a bright and well read woman. She also was a prisoner of Rumplestiltskin who couldn’t leave. She was upset of course, but she would do anything to protect her kingdom. Her prisoner rank had been promoted to being a maid, she cleaned, dusted, poured tea, all of the sorts. That, in Rumplestiltskin's opinion, did not involve asking all the questions she decided she wanted to ask.

“Do you ever get lonely?” The brown haired woman asked, dusting along the shelves. She looked at the scaled man with soft eyes, no longer worried about whether he would hurt her or not, if he wanted to he would’ve already.

Rumplestiltskin continued to spin the straw, pulling threads of gold easily without thought. He didn’t even look away from the spinner, “No.” He spoke simply, foot stepping on the press to make the wheel spin. Belle pursed her lips at the vague response and continued to clean, “You must get lonely at least a bit, you’re always by yourself.” She spoke, her English accent ringing through his ears. He sighed, gaze flickering to her before going back to his work, “I’m not by myself…” He spoke to her, his voice in a concentrated mutter. “All the time, at least.” He added on the statement, his features softening slightly before concentrating once more. Belle put her hands on her hips, “I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, but I have not seen anyone else come through here other than that thief.” She told him, walking over to him with the confidence no one truly has to the dark one.

Rumplestiltskin stopped spinning his straw and looked at Belle with a bored expression, “I don’t have tea parties with the people I associate myself with.” He spoke, standing abruptly to walk to the door. Belle stayed near the spinner, frowning slightly, he was so adamant that he wasn’t lonely but, why was he never with anyone?

Just as Rumplestiltskin walked to the main door to exit, someone from the other side had already opened it. It was a man, he was looking down into a satchel overflowed with scrolls, quills, and possibly other things, but from where Belle was she couldn’t see it clearly. A few larger rolls of paper escaped the satchel as the man walked through the door. What surprised Belle though was that Rumplestiltskin wasn’t surprised by the visitor, he had rolled his eyes and picked up the papers, shaking them in front of the man's face.

That man was you. You picked your head up from looking down and smiled graciously, reaching to grab the papers but Rumplestiltskin pulled them away with his devilish smirk. “Your satchel is overflowing, did you steal them? Buy them? I would ask if you intimidated the owners but…” He looked you up and down, tilting his head, unimpressed, “You’re not an intimidating person.” He spoke simply. The scaled man tapped your head with the paper and you gently but swiftly took the papers with a soft glare.

Belle was curious to the interaction, she placed her duster down and walked forward, hands grazing the chairs as she walked closer. The two of you continued to interact until Belle leaned her body into your view, waving, “Hello.” She spoke with a smile but curious eyes.

Your eyes widened in surprise, “Hello…there?” You spoke with a questioning gaze to Rumplestiltskin who shot a dirty look to Belle for interrupting. The dark one nodded reluctantly, gesturing to Belle without looking at her, “Meet my maid, whatever her name is.” He waved his hands around as a movement of not remembering.

“My name is Belle.” She spoke right after him so you would know. You nodded in understanding, humming at the word ‘maid’. You shook her hand and introduced yourself, saying your name and telling her that you’ve known Rumplestiltskin for years.

She tilted her head with intrigue, “How come I’ve never seen you?” She asked, wondering how after all this time a man could show up and just…be well acquainted with someone people find terrifying. Rumplestiltskin sucked his teeth, “He’s been on a long journey for a few months.” He answered plainly, picking at his nails. He suddenly pointed to Belle, “How about you do what actual maids do and make tea instead of asking questions?” He asked, more of an order.

Belle gently smiled, used to the treatment and grabbed the porcelain tea set, “I thought you didn’t have tea parties with people you associate with.” She spoke jokingly, repeating his words from earlier. The man frowned and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “And I thought when I received you, you would be more quiet.” He muttered under his breath, not even looking at Belle. You had gently smacked Rumplestilskin in his shoulder and told him to ‘play nice’ to which he scowled about.

This routine had gone on for a few more weeks. You would appear at the castle, or wake up there after falling asleep on the main room table. You would hold banter and conversation with Rumplestiltskin, the man would go do some errands, Belle would make you tea, the dark one would return and take you into multiple different rooms.

Something Belle noticed was that her captor was very gentle with you. When you would prick your finger on the spinning wheel, a small look of concern would flash across the scaled man's face before he waved his hand and suddenly your wound was gone. He would let you take any book you’d like, as well as touch any treasure of his with no complaints from the owner. As if you could do anything, and he would never darken.

You had leaned across him as he was at his wheel, he was blocking the way to a compartment you needed to get to. You tripped a bit when you pointed your toes to get higher ground and nearly toppled on top of him. You would've if Rumplestiltskin didn’t immediately stop spinning the straw and take hold of your waist. You didn’t even look at him as you just continued trying to grab the crystal like item from the shelf, the man holding you for your balance. You didn’t notice how his eyes would look over your face, his fingers would flex around your waist slightly, how gentle his expression was to you.

Once you had grabbed the crystal item, you moved down, Rumplestiltskin guiding you back down. You thanked him and walked to the table, Belle watching the entire thing as she wiped down a few possessions of her captors.

You had sat at the table, placing a few scrolls on the table and the crystal item next to them. Belle had poured you some tea and placed a cup of it in front of you. The other man didn’t sit at all near the two of you. His eyes followed you from the spinner and he cleared his throat, standing and brushing himself off.

“I’ll be back.” Was all he said before he disappeared with the wave of his hands.

Belle had stood up at this point to continue cleaning in a different area so you could focus but you stopped her, shaking your head. “Please, drink tea with me?” You asked her kindly and she accepted the offer, sitting next to you and pouring herself tea as well. You looked at her a bit before putting your cup down, noticing it was slightly chipped. “You can ask whatever questions you wish.” You said nonchalantly, pulling a few scrolls out, some were maps, some declarations, amongst other things.

You couldn’t pretend like you didn’t see how her eyes lit up at the offer, chuckling to yourself lightly. Belle had taken the chance to ask the millions of questions about you, about Rumplestiltskin, about the castle, about your history, about his history, she asked you everything.

Belle leaned forward, hands around the cup as a safety, smiling gently, “How do you know Rumplestiltskin?” She asked you immediately, curious as to how someone seemingly so kind could be with someone who acted so cruel. You took a sip of your tea, putting it back down on the table, “I know him because we lived in the same village.” You answered her simply.

“He lived in a village?” She spoke, clearly shocked at the new piece of information. “No one was scared of him?” Belle asked you, almost scooching her chair a little closer to you.

“When I met him, he was a man.” You informed her, her lips parting slightly. “It was in an ogre war-” You continued until Belle visibly flinched at the words. Your eyes shifted to her quickly from your cup, “Are you okay?” You asked her, cup now down,hand reaching to hers for comfort. The princess smiled gently at you and nodded with a hesitant breath. “Yes, it’s just…my kingdom..” She began and you nodded, encouraging her to continue.

She didn’t though. She exhaled, the breath sounded shaky and she appreciated your hand offered to her, taking it. “It’s alright, you should continue.” She expressed, her facial expression didn’t convince you completely but you continued for her sake specifically. You looked her in her eyes, nothing but warmth within them, “It was long ago.” You told her, almost as if you were telling a story to a child. “One of the first ogre wars.” Your voice was a little low for suspense, Belle enjoyed it, it was like when her father used to read stories to her. She noticed your words and blinked a bit at you, now leaning forward to you due to her interest, “That was… that was hundreds of years ago.” She responded to your comment and you simply nodded.

“You’ve lived that long?” She asked, “Are you a mortal?” She questioned, brows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t look like Rumplestiltskin with the scales and darkness, but you didn’t look like a fairy, you had no wings. You certainly didn’t look like a seer, those with eyes on their palms, their faces sewed up, thought you could have the powers, she was unsure.

You licked your lips with a huff of a laugh, “A fairy a long time ago told me that I would be needed for something, but I would need to live to that point,” You spoke, nodding, your nose scrunched, “so she granted me immortality.” You finished your comment and Belle nodded slowly. “Are you still��?” Belle began, unsure of how to word her sentence, but you understood. “I am still a man, I just can’t die.” You expressed to her, moving a few papers, your hand still in the comfort of hers.

Belle had many questions about that, but she decided to stick to the questions about the dark one. “Okay…so, he used to be a man?” “Yes, before he became the dark one, he was a man.”

“How did he become the dark one?”

You paused, thinking for a moment, squeezing your hand gently, “It’s not my story to tell of how.” You spoke simply, and before she could speak once more you continued. “The dark one is magical,” You stated the obvious to which the girl in front of you nodded, “and is drowned in darkness until it takes over completely.” You explained to her, pausing once more. You tilted your head, trying to find a way to explain this to her without expressing more information than needed. “But, since it takes over a human host, he’s not complete darkness,” You said, “no matter how much people say otherwise.” You muttered the last part, a flash of annoyance in your expression.

Belle was silent for a moment, thinking. She pulled her hand back, you didn’t mind and simply clasped yours hands in front of you on the table. “So he’s cursed?” Belled asked you after a while of silence. You tilted your head in each direction with an expression that showed you weren’t exactly sure of a correct answer to that, “I guess you could think of it like that.”

She went silent once more, hands in her lap, “True love's kiss can break any curse” She stated to you, eyes flickering into yours before looking back to the cups.

“You truly believe that?”

“Of course!” Belle spoke quickly, “But, I suppose you are not his true love.” She mumbled, playing with her fingers. The comment caused your head to snap to her, slight shock, but mainly confusion in your face. You shook your head lightly with a slightly uncomfortable smile, “How ever would you know that?” You asked her, hands clutching each other tighter. Belle noticed your slight tone, her eyes widening at she stumbled over her words for her explanation, “He is not his original self, so the must mea-“

“Me and Rumplestiltskin have never kissed.”

Your words caused her mouth to open, she was staring at you agape. “You two..have never kissed?” She asked, truly confused which puzzled you even further. She puffed air into her cheeks, “I assumed the two of you were romantically involved since he’s far more gentle with you than anyone else.” She continued to explain, wondering if she saw it differently.

Now it was your turn to stare, agape. You couldn’t ask her why and how she came to that conclusion until Rumplestiltski himself had returned. His vest was covered in blood so he took it off, leaving him in only his long sleeved under shirt. He tossed it to Belle who was utterly disgusted by the blood but used to the action, “Clean this for me, someone didn’t want to be compliant.” He spoke, teeth gritted as he turned on his heel to a different doorway.

He gestured to you to follow, so you stood quickly, sending an apologetic gaze to Belle. The princess, the prisoner of the dark one, stood and walked to a different doorway to where she washed and hung Rumplestiltskin's clothes to dry.

You had followed Rumple, something you call him, into a tower where he worked with potion magic. He had stood in front of a desk, mixing a few bottles of magic together to create something new, you always enjoyed watching him in his element. You looked along the the rows of ingredient bottles or fleshed out potions, looking through the labels and humming as you examined them a bit. Silence was between you two which wasn’t unusual, but you decided to break it. “You want to know something so funny?” You asked him, your backs to each other as you were on the other side of the room. Rumple gave you a hum of acknowledgement, not turning to you, “I highly doubt it will be funny, but continue.” He told you, waving his hand slightly before going back to the potions. “Belle told me that true loves kiss breaks all curses.”

Your statement caused the man behind you to stand up straight, looking directly to the wall. He cocked his head to the side, though you didn’t see it, “Maybe I shouldn’t let her read those books.” He said aloud, looking back down to his potion. You chuckled, rolling your eyes a bit, “I mean, it is true, isn’t it? From everything I've seen at least.” You spoke, messing with a bottle of unicorn hair. Rumple focused on his work but muttered a few words, “She's not wrong, but why would she discuss such a thing with you?” He asked, confused on what brought up the subject matter.

You didn’t tell him that you let her ask questions but you did express why she would bring up the product of the question, “Well, she believes you’re cursed.” You spoke almost too plainly, your mouth getting a little dry as you remembered the cut off conversation from earlier.

Your words had been so unexpected that he had put his potion bottles down a bit harshly, the bottles clinking each other. You turned to him with surprise and he turned, meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry?” He asked, mouth now in a thin line, arms crossed. You didn’t expect such a reaction but you shrugged anyways, “She thinks being the dark one is a curse and it can be lifted with true loves kiss.” You explained and he chuckled slightly in disbelief.

He began to shake his head with closed his eyes, “Don’t tell me she believes not only the ridiculous idea that true loves kiss will lift my name off that damn dagger,” He began, holding his hand out for you due to the way this rattled him ,”but that she thinks she could kiss me and all is well.” He finished, tilting his head at you when he looked up, his shock now wiped into amusement. You crinkled your face into a scrunch, “Not exactly.” You chuckled out, licking your lips subconsciously, looking down.

Rumple waited for you to continue and you kicked the ground, crossing your arms yourself, “She thinks I could be your true love.” You laugh, looking up at him after speaking such a ridiculous idea. You were met with pure silence, silence that was tense and the eye contact with the man in front of you never ceased. “What?” He asked you, his voice had never been so soft, so hesitant.

It caught you off guard so you tilted your head, smiling a bit, “She assumed I wasn’t your true love since you weren’t human, and I had to tell her we’ve never kissed.” You reiterated the moments from a little earlier, and were met with even more silence. “Why are you so quiet?” You asked, pushing yourself off the bookshelf to reach the middle of the room, now half the distance from where you were away from Rumple.

He looked to the ground, a concentrated look on his face before he looked back up, “She believes you could be my true love?” He asked you suddenly and you nodded, “She believed we had a romantic connection.” You told him honestly. You were unsure why the topic was one he was stuck on, he never really cared for such a thing when the topic had been brought up before. He sighed, “And she thinks true loves kiss is going to break whatever this is?” He asked, gesturing his hands down his body and you simply nodded. Your confirmation had brought Rumplestiltskin to shake his head, “Ridiculous.” he spoke, turning back to his project.

Another moment of silence filled between the two of you, once again, you broke it. “Have you ever tried?” You asked, gulping harshly, still standing in the middle of the room, tapping your foot. Rumple was looking at the mixture he created, waving his hand for the potion to glow, “Tried what?” He asked in response, not looking at you. You took a deep breath, now simply hugging yourself. “Looking for a way to not be the dark one without…dying for it?”

Pure silence filled the room, again. You didn’t understand why so much silence was coming between you two.

“Sometimes I think about it.” He answered honestly, voice in a mumble.

“Has it ever gone beyond thinking?” More silence was in response so you tried to stutter out a different response, trying to speak of how he doesn’t have to say, or to move onto a topic.

“No, it hasn’t.”

You walked a little closer, now standing next to him but he wouldn’t look at you, like he was avoiding it. “Do you think it ever will? If you do actually find a way?” You asked him, leaning on the table a bit. He didn’t answer the question, he just put his hands on the table, looking down at the bottles, “…Can I ask you something?” He asked you, taking a few deep breaths.

“Sure.”

“What if true loves kiss could break it somehow?”

You weren’t sure if he meant with you or in general, but you answered honestly regardless, tapping your fingers on the wooden table. “Well, then…” You began, adjusting yourself, “I say you could find Baelfire, and after you do you could kiss your true love and then be happy.” You spoke, shrugging a bit, unsure of if he was actually concerned about it.

“What if you’re my soulmate?” He asked you, head turning to look at you, you turned yours to look at him. “Do you truly believe I could be?” You asked in a slight whisper.

He looked at you, the man in front of him, he saw a flicker of something in your eyes. He couldn’t pin point what it was, you couldn’t even understand what it was. He sighed, rubbing the bottom of his face with his hand, “Even if it somehow was true,” He spoke, now fully turned to you, “being the dark one is a different magic. it’s not a curse.” He told you, seemingly trying to convince himself more than you.

You frowned deeply at him, if you stepped closer, the two of you would be nose to nose. “I do hate when you refer to yourself as the dark one.” You mumbled to him, keeping eye contact with him and he shook his head, a matching frown on his face. The mood was slightly solemn through this conversation, like there was hope for something that would never happen. “Why?” He asked you, “It’s true.”

You inhaled deeply, your chest aching a bit, “You’re just Rumple.” You told him simply, eyes soft. You noticed his harder expression softened as well, his frown more sad than frustrated. “The same man who brought me those skins when I was sick.” You reminded him, eyes glistening slightly. Rumple hadn’t said anything, just looking into your eyes before he realized you finished your sentence. He cleared his throat, standing now, “Children had stronger immune systems than you.” He spoke, biting the inside of his cheek, turning to a journal to write down the products of his potion.

“And yet you still took care of me.” You smiled at his actions, still leaning on the table.

He waved you off, not turning to look at you, “I do not appreciate your sentiment at the moment, go read a book or look over your maps or something.”

You laughed a little louder than you expected and dramatically bowed, “Of course your majesty.” You told him, shaking your head and walking to the door the two of you came in from.

Before you could go he called your name, causing you to turn to him. His back was still to you but your footsteps stopped so he spoke. “Why did Belle believe we were romantically involved?” He asked you, the question was strange to you but you answered anyway.

“She said something about how you look at me far more gently than anyone else.” You expressed to him honestly, not thinking much of it.

“Do you believe her?”

“I am not sure. We have been friends for a long time, I’m sure it’s a little more gentle.”

He was quiet for a moment, before turning to you, expression unreadable. “If we were true loves, and if I was back to being a man-”

“Rumple, I don’t mind that you're..” You began walking forward to him but he interrupted you. “A monster?” He asked and your eyes lidded and your pursed your lips, “The dark one.” You finished your phrase, the words making him go silent. You were now face to face with him, “I’ve known you long enough to know that you’re not all darkness.” You explained, his eyes looking into yours, “There’s something inside you, there’s light, there’s the Rumple I knew and still know.” You expressed to him, fingers tingling to grab hold of his but you decided against it.

His breath hitched when he noticed your fingers twitch a bit to him, “That light is because of-”

“Baelfire.” You had known the answer, you knew of his son. You knew his son and how much joy he brought to his father.

Rumple nodded but continued anyways, “And you.” You were a little shocked, your face showing that. He grabbed your hands, his rougher than yours, “You’re my hope for finding him.”

A smile had broken out on your face a bit, “I’ve never seen you get sentimental.” You teased a bit, but he didn’t smile. He held your hands, looking down at them. “I think I can only be with you.” His words were heavy and they caused your heart to beat quickly and loudly. “I don’t want to be soft, but you melt me.” He explained, eyes looking back into yours, he seemed so gentle in this moment with you, like the old Rumple. “And there’s so many things I want to say and do But I don't want to risk…”

“True loves kiss?”

He hesitated before closing his eyes, sighing, and nodding. “Yes…there’s just too much on the line.”

You understood, if you were his true love and you kissed him, it’s possible he wouldn’t be the dark one anymore. He wouldn’t have the power and strength to get Bae back, and you didn’t want to be the reason he never saw his son again. You stepped a little closer, kissing his cheek gently, the action was quick, faster than he could process. When he finally did, he touched his cheek and looked at you with big eyes.

You were smiling softly, hands still in his, “How about that for now?” You asked him and for the first time that day, he replicated your smile. “Perfect.” He told you, gazing into your eyes with a fire he’s never had before. Well, the fire you’ve never noticed before now.

[thekitsunesiren]

mind if I give a dp×dc prompt?

Constantine means to summon the ghost king but instead summons the ghost prince who is currently has a fork hanging out of his mouth.

Damian just wanted to eat lunch with his adoptive father king phantom, in peace.

I just want to put that I love this prompt, and will enjoy writing this so much!

Now, onto the big question: How did Damian become the Ghost Prince of the Infinite Realms in the first place?

And of course, the answer is obviously because of Ra's al Ghul. I could think of it as two ways.

One would be Ra's summoned the Ghost King and offered his son in exchange for immortality. Danny not only denies him, but still takes Damian with him because he's obviously better off anywhere but there.

The other way would be Damian would be forced to watch the summoning as Ra's possibly wanted to show him his ascent into being immortal. Though, when summoning Danny, he just looked around, saw Damian, grabbed him, and disappeared back through the summoning circle while flipping off Ra's al Ghul.

Now, what's the Ghost King supposed to do with the human kid he just kidnapped without a second thought?

Sure, the kids previous living conditions probably wasn't the best. I mean, how would it when the man had an entire pit of rotten ectoplasm? But Danny was pretty much still a kid himself. And he had his kingly duties on top of that. But that doesn't mean he was just going to dump the kid somewhere else and hope for the best.

So what does Danny do? He goes to his sister.

Jazz is conflicted about the whole ordeal. On one hand, it was good for Danny to rescue the child from the possible dangerous situation. On the other, they had a whole child that they didn't know what to do with.

Damian was confused about the entire situation. He was there with his grandfather (whether by force or his own accord depending how he got there) to watch him summon the King of the Dead in order to establish himself as one of the higher beings in this world to rule it. Instead, the King, who turned out to be no more older than him, denied his grandfather upright before grabbing him and vanishing back into the same portal he was summoned from.

Now, he was sitting between the Ghost King and an older teen. Sister, maybe? Either way, he was unsure as to what to do now. He had no idea how far he was away from the hideout of the League. And if the King was as powerful as legends told, he doubted he would make it far if he were to run anywhere before he was caught.

So, Damian believed that the best thing to do in this situation was to try and get onto the Ghost King's good side until he could find what would be the next step. So his next words shocked both him and the woman he was talking with.

"I want to stay with you, Great King of the Dead."

So! Damian decided that staying with the Ghost King, or Phantom, as he preferred to be called at most, would be best. Of course, his request threw the king off guard along with the girl. But it was all he had up his sleeve and he was going to use it.

And now that that was settled, a lot of things followed suite:

Danny, with the gain of a new charge, called in Sam and Tucker for a full on meeting on what to do with the kid along with Jazz.

Of course with Danny officially kidnapping him, he was under Danny's care. The Ghost King's care. That was basically signing some sort of second death wish.

With all of his friends and family being alive, they decide the best place for him to leave was in his castle in the Ghost Zone. There was plenty of room there! And he was sure that it would be safe. Maybe. Hopefully. You know what? He'll probably have to do a quick check before he officially brought to the castle.

That being said, he would also have to warn those who stayed in the castle the arrival of his....guest? Kidnappee? Ward? A kid that he took from the environment that was not safe for him!

Surprisingly, the ghosts were excited about the development. So excited, in fact, that when he returned to the castle with Damian in turn, there was already talk about the Ghost King's heir was already going around of all the realms. That was fine though. If the word spread around fast enough, hopefully that that meant he would be easily protected against any possible attacks.

Danny introduces to some of those he can. A few members of his Rogue Gallery who he gotten closer to over the time, Ellie ("It's big sister Ellie, now! I can't believe you just kidnapped a kid like that!")

Others were introduced to him as well. Especially Frost Bite and Fright Knight. Both of which were interested in meeting his sudden charge. (But with the way he saw the kid eyeing Fright Knight's sword, it's best their unsupervised interactions were kept to a minimum.)

And seeing that he was a kid himself, it was going to be weird raising one that's probably not much younger than him. Clockwork sure did get a kick out of it though.

Here is a list of possible outcomes that come from Danny and his friends & family raising Damian:

He doesn't grow up to be as stiff and cold as before. With Danny and the others around (especially Jazz's "Aunt Jazz, Damian," Aunt Jazz's mandatory sessions about his life with the League of Assassin's) his formality is more royalty like instead of an assassin waiting to strike. Though, there is a bit still there.

Training. As being accepted as the ward and possible heir of the Ghost King, it meant that that Damian would have protection and would have to learn the ways of the Infinite Realms. Both its politics and ways of combat. That was fine, Damian was sure he could handle it. He was raised by the League of Assassins after all. But he was wrong...so wrong. His first training session showed how he fared as a human against a ghost. But he wasn't deterred and continued fighting. (It was alright in the end, because he got his own ghost sword. Of course, it didn't send the opponent into a realm of neverending nightmares, but it was still good. Danny was sure he heard Damian cackle madly when the sword was presented to him.)

Bonding time with Danny and his friends. He would most likely learn about Danny about how he became Phantom and King of the Infinite Realms, as well as a bit of his friends and family that was with him the entire time.

Even if he is Danny's ward, that doesn't mean that he keeps him in the Infinite Realms the entire time. He often took Damian out to various spots that he deemed alright for some bonding between the two to get to know each other a bit more personally.

He would even allow Damian some time alone in the human realm if he wanted it. Of course, he would only leave him for about an hour or two before picking him up again. During that time he would simply work on some kingly duties he couldn't do with Damian around.

Overtime, Damian would become more liminal than most due to all the exposure in the realms. Of course he wasn't a full on ghost, but the most he could do was float, fly and even turn invisible. But even that would take a lot out of him for too long.

After a while, Damian would be referred as "Little Prince" or "Prince of the Infinite Realms".

All. The. Animals. With all of the ecto-based animals along with the blob ghosts, he would be in absolute heaven.

Now, I want to bring something else up to this prompt: How would Bruce react?

Depending on how Danny kidnapped adopted Damian, there are two ways that Bruce could find out.

Bruce gains word from Talia after a League of Assassins member finds her and tells her of the passing of Ra's al Ghul and the kidnapping of his grandson. Both of which happened by the hands of the Ghost King.

Words gets out that Ra's failed to get the Ghost King under his control to grant his wish of immortality and that the Ghost King took his grandson as well.

Either way would be how Bruce managed to have a biological son that he was unaware of. Which could also lead to him digging into anything he could find about the King of the Infinite Realms, even seeking JL Dark for any information. Of course, their information isn't up to date and he think that Damian has been kidnapped by the cruel Ghost King Pariah Dark instead of Danny Phantom: The King who can't say no to a kid with a sword bigger than his own body.

So yes. This whole ordeal would just be chaos from beginning to end.