black_hat

So. Tom/Fenrir versus Tom/Desire (from Gaiman's Sandman comics).

So. Tom/Fenrir versus Tom/Desire, Dream/Luna, and Tom/Luna.

Hmmm...

Well, here's the first part of the Tom/Desire, Dream/Luna, and Tom/Luna fic I had a bunny about. I do really have a Tom/Fenrir on my computer but goodness, that's er...rough. >.> I'll get through it sometime but man.

Here's Desire and the Rest of the Endless from wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Desire_%28DC_Comics%29
Desire is a sister-brother, a mixed gender, so Desire is referred to as it in most places. That's what I did here, I just didn't want people to think I couldn't write a gender. :-)

Fire was a dangerous thing, and that was one of the reasons that Dream was clueless. In dreams, the passion was the bitter undercurrent, the trickling behind the rock of the detached mind. It was blasphemy. Plain and Raw Blasphemy.

Desire sat in the Threshold of the Heart, burning and feeling the chaos and the edge of control eroding like a well-used dagger. He/she, the entity of Desire, understands that it is the One that makes the world go round. Adam’s dreadfully, small apple, and Dido’s plunge onto the sword and Ulysses’s journey that scarred the earth in such a way that if one were to look—truly look—they could see his treacherous path. Caesar spent his nights with Desire, and even the small gods welcomed the embrace. Loki had been one of its favorites.

And lo, mark it, Desire would cry within the Heart. I bring change. I move you all. Consequences, ultimately, were unimportant. It’s the pure lack of consequence that made the impetus of Desire all the more powerful.

Their cries as they fell made it wither in ecstasy, and Desire recounted them all, in its four chambers. Desire was on the tip of old Ulysses’s tongue as the walls of water crashed around the ship, blocking out the stars. Lucifer, now old Lucy, had been fun.

The day of the Rebellion in the Heavens, Desire had picked the cloud that afforded the best view. In about three minutes, the Prince of Pride tumbled past it, struggling with chains of fire and wreathes of shame, cursing its name.

Desire waved merrily, adorned in robes of white. “Bye-bye, Mr. Morningstar. Have a nice trip, see you next Fall.”

Mister Clipped-Wings got over the slight eventually. After all, Desire sent him new mortal toys quite often. The real problem was that no one had a sense of humor anymore. Dream was as serious as a freshly-dug grave now, and old Lucy, formerly in the Sky with Diamonds, complained about being a scapegoat for every foul misdoing on earth.

How utterly boring.

With its siblings, Desire felt their envy of its powers. It was only natural, really. But it needed to do more to make sure they were under its influence. Better to be noticed than shunted aside.

Desire.

It looked up to see its glass heart turn oh so red, like the Queen of Hearts. Off with their heads, It whispered, and decided to go along with the family summoning.

“Something has happened,” Dream said, waiting near its portrait, and Desire smiled mockingly. “Why are you late?”

“To piss you off,” Desire answered, shading her features onto its façade. “Of course, you piss yourself off so well already.”

She noticed that Destiny still had re-decorated the walls. Damn, he did it out of spite, surely.

“Did you ever wonder, brother…why the drab grey in the House of Destiny?” It asked, curious of Dream’s mood.

“Because all fates, even our own, are equal here,” Dream responded, moving along the halls. Drab answer. Dull and dreamy…and cold.

“Ah. You’re still just a moth, aren’t you? The greyest of the grey. Those who are always drawn into the flame eventually, despite their struggle. Why did you wait for me, brother? Don’t be coy. You must have something to say.”

“Stay away from this one, Desire.”

So it had felt something earlier. “One of the mortals that deals the cards of Destiny has been born again,” It muttered, amused. “Boy or girl? Or both?”

“A young boy. His mother died giving birth to him, and while she was gathering the woman’s soul, Death has glimpsed his power. She is…concerned.”

Desire blinked, and straightened its hat, changing its visage once more. If Death, the annoyingly perky and forever calm sister, was concerned, then this mortal must indeed be impressive.

“And you want him for yourself, to lure him into a lotus land away from his full potential? You are a selfish bastard, you know.”

“We are to decide who will have him in this meeting, sister-brother.”

“It has been awhile since you’ve acknowledge our relation, brother.”

“As the garden must deal with its worms, I must deal with you.”

Desire felt its eyes turn red but they had reached the counsel. It swore under its breath, its oath to own this child and mould the boy in its image. Purely because it could.

Purely because it would.

“You know the best thing about spring?” Delirium was saying, as Desire took its chair. “It’s the clocks, you know. All their little springs bloom about, and I like springs because then I can jump high, and then the time flies, so I have to have something sticky to net it with, all the flies, because they like honey or is it--.”

“It’s winter,” Desire said. “Not spring, sister dearest. Winter.”

Delirium frowned. “Yes, I know that, Desire. It’s the opposite of spring.”

“No, that’s Fall. Summer is the opposite of winter. Red, hot, and spring-free summer.”

“We should get started,” Death said.

“Oh, you do like it finished, don’t you,” Desire said. “You know, Death, I was thinking. We are a lot alike, you and I. I make love to the mortals with their hearts; you make love to them with worms. Isn’t that right, Dream?”

“Enough,” Destiny said, setting down his book. “I have seen the-,”

“Watch your thoughts, for they become words.

Watch your words, for they become actions.

Watch your actions, for they become rabbits.

Watch your rabbits, for they become character.

Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny,” Delirium sang, her words becoming rabbits in hats, all much too fat, and-.

“It’s habbits!” Desire screamed, flames forming in its hands in case a rabbit came in its direction. “No, for-.”

“Habits,” Death said helpfully, hiding her smile behind a ringed hand.

“No, it’s a rabbit. Hanging much too high.” Delirium looked depressed and suddenly focused. “Oh, rabbits are only real with love. Not…oh. Oh.”

“I see,” Destiny said, and what Desire couldn’t see was Destiny under his cloak. It changed again, like the flame of a candle, and wondered if Destiny knew how Desire controlled him.

“This child, then…is Delirium’s?” Dream asked.

“Don’t be mean!” Delirium said. “I mean, I’m not sure I want him as my own. Let’s share him, please. It may be best to share this time.”

“Yes,” Death said. “Exactly. There has to be a balance in this case. He’s already so powerful as an infant that any further excess will-.”

Desire laughed. “Excess is what makes the greats, Death. You, sister, have everyone, everything in the end.”

“Not everyone, sister-brother,” Dream said, and Death winked at him. Desire ignored this with a spark of something like a shard in its breast.

“The fool boy will be so ‘balanced’ that he won’t have any impetus, any drive at all. What a waste. And how will Death share him when she already has his life line? To top it off, she has already affected him by taking the mother. I will not share this mortal. I may lose him, but I will never, ever share.”

“Indeed, sister-brother, it is against your nature,” Despair said, speaking up, coming to its aid. Desire smiled like a piano wire and extended its nails, sharp and to the point.

“Ooohhh, a game!” Delirium piped up, blue-green fishing swimming in her eyes. “Eeny meenie minie m-.”

“Good idea, Delirium” Death said. “Let’s allow the boy to choose. Desire is right. I will have the boy eventually. As for the rest of you lot, you wait until he’s old enough to make a clear decision.”

“We will wait until the boy reaches the age of eleven.”

“That’s—That’s too late!” Delirium cried out, the fish swimming right out of her eyes. “I can see it’s too late. Children don’t have time. They know, like I know, that time is just a fib-.”

“It’s a deal,” Desire said calmly. “Right, Despair?” Despair nodded. “Dream?”

“It’s an accord,” Dream murmured, folding his arms.

“Children belong to me, though,” Delirium said, shrinking down in her seat. “They like to play with me, and are always so nice.”

“This one is off-limits,” Desire said, laughing again.

“Listen, next time I go for the parent of a child, I’ll be glad to have your help since they are fond of you,” Death said to Delirium who smiled in delight.

“Well, it’s been great. Have to do it again some time,” Desire said, and returned to its Threshold. It was pleased, and could be decidedly patient when the situation called for it.

Endlessly so.

&&&

When the boy, Tom Riddle, turned eleven, Desire noticed it was the coldest night of the year. No matter, it thought…the cold air smelt of hearths and warm sex. There was the sound of alcohol pumping through the veins of men and women and indeed, Desire could deal with the cold.

It saw Dream wandering through the windows of the orphanage, and Desire really couldn’t resist.

“Happy New Year,” Desire screamed, with the aid of some fire-works, and as Dream spun around, nearly tripping on his dark robes, Desire changed its visage once more. The Santa Hat was such a nice touch…especially when it was just a Santa hat, and her visage.

“You dare…”

“Temper, temper, darling brother,” Desire cooed. “Remember that fire! Next time, for the festivities, I will have a head on a platter. I believe you know my choice…and you do know.” It mimicked playing a harp, its smile sharper than ever.

To its surprise, Dream turned. “Your tricks are wearing thin with time. Do you not have anything new for me?”

“For you, never. You have the same heart, though you can change facades.”

“And you have no heart of your own, sister-brother.”

“All the better to…” Dream gave it a warning look. “…See you with.”

“Are we interrupting something?” Death asked, and Desire quickly changed into something a little more suitable.

“I liked your hat,” Delirium said happily. “It looked like an inside out cat.”

“You’re here, sister?” Desire asked Death.

“And there too,” Delirium muttered.

“I am here to make sure everyone remembers the guidelines,” Death said, crossing her arms. And to keep Delirium from driving the boy right out of his skull, Desire thought. There is a thin line between madness and genius, and an eyelash between madness and the catatonic.

“Very well, hurry up. I shall go last.”

“That is a rare offer from you, Desire,” Dream observed.

“As you know, the more you get of a thing, the better it gets. I’m just giving the boy what he deserves…”

“I’ll go first,” Delirium offered, and Death placed an arm around her shoulder. Desire watched as Delirium created a butterfly in her palm, and Desire had to admit it was very beautiful. Too bad she couldn’t burn it.

“I should have brought Barnabas. Boys like doggies. Aren’t they made of puppy dog tails? Oh! Now, I’m glad I didn’t bring Barnabas, since-.”

“A-hem,” Desire said. “Go on, and don’t make him taste too many colors. I want him lucid when I get my turn.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you,” Death said, and together, they entered a sick room. Before the door closed, Desire spied a…a very handsome, beautiful boy on the bed, reading a book. Of course, it might have imagined such a perfect, little matchstick boy, but it didn’t think so.

“I…I must have him,” Desire said, and it felt a weakness that made it thrill inside.

“Since you’ve asked, I will not give him to you. His mind is much too vast for your realm, Desire. After all, what would you be without dreams? The boy will see clearly through all your guises.”

Desire hissed. “What?! You…you are deluded, brother. It is I who create dreams, though you refuse to acknowledge me. I am your reflection, brother, and you cannot stand the sight of yourself.”

“A mirror is just a reflection with a shallow base, dependent on its subjects. Your sigil is not made of diamonds but of glass. I am of the mind and soul.”

“You-.”

There was a pulse of a dark power, suddenly, painfully, and Desire turned towards the sick ward, its attention lost.

Delirium shambled out of the room, and speaking of shapeless, their sister was coming undone. Desire caught her before she collapsed.

“They usually—like me, and I saw too much. I wanted it to be silent. I didn’t want to hear it trickle down the back of my throat anymore.”

“What?” Desire whispered.

“The language of the apocalypse.”

“You know-?”

“Silence, Desire. Where is Death?”

“Such a human boy this is.” Desire looked to see Death standing over them, smiling wistfully. “I think we should have listened to Delirium long ago. Yeah.”

“Is there something wrong with him?” Desire asked quickly, angered at the possibility of a defect in its prize.

“No. He’s the epitome of humanity. You know, like the old days. Yes, it reminds me of before when I wasn’t as I am. I was once the shadow, the monster, and the boogey man. Men. Sometimes…”

“He didn’t like my butterflies,” Delirium murmured sadly. “It was the first time anyone’s been scared of me. Is there something wrong with me? He torn off their wings, and…I brought him yellow, you know. Yellow. Everyone likes…”

“Control,” Death said. “And dearest sister, that is not our realm. Come, let us go. It is between you, Dream, Desire.”

And they left in a cloud of silver springs and a raven.