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#lord morpheus fanfiction
certifiedskywalker · 1 year
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O' Sweet Simplicity - Dream of The Endless
Lord Morpheus does not often indulge, but, when he does, he does with you. 
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“Coffee? Tea?” You paused, teasingly. “Me?”
A chuckle rumbled up his throat before he recognized the sound as such. How long had it been since he last let his joy be heard? How long had it been since he last felt a joy so potent to stir up such a sound? The Lord of Dreams could not recall.
“It is not often that I have to choose between varying degrees of goodness,” he said his low voice breaking through the lingering chuckle caught in his otherwise chronically mirthless throat. “It is not often that I have to choose.”
“Well,” you said, titling on your toes to turn towards him, eyes brightened by your smile. “I’ll make things a little easier for you. Come over here a choose a flavor of tea.”
With the faintest hints of a smile playing on his lips, Morpheus started over towards you. His tread was quiet, bare feet padding against the malleable floor of your Dream. This time, it appeared as an apartment. Sleek and modern save for the scattered trinkets that were you. Morpheus merely filled in the empty spaces.
Like around your waist. There, Morpheus put his arms.
“That is not what I would have chosen.”
You hummed and Morpheus felt the sound bloom as he pulled your back flush to his chest. “Well, then next time, I imagine there will be a little less lip and more choosing.”
Next time. It sounded like a promise. One unmoored and unable to be truly kept, unable to be truly broken. You said it each time he visited you. So, he knew what was coming next.
Lucidity.
Morpheus pressed his face into the crook of your neck. Soft lips pressed into soft flesh, and you careened into the touch. Your head rested atop his with his hair tickling your skin whenever he moved to kiss an untraced spot. Another hum sounded up your throat and Morpheus let the tip of his nose brush against your jaw as he pulled away.
Chasing after him, his touch, you turned in Morpheus’ arms. A pair of glittering, blue eyes were fixed on you, seeing through you, the veil of a Dream. He wondered then, how he appeared to you. Did he look like his chosen form or someone from your past?
Soon, his wondering would matter not.
“You know, I don’t mind this lip,” you murmured, leaning up towards him. Your breath danced along his skin and your hands rested on his bare shoulders for support as you drew in closer. When at last your mouth met his in a perfect seal, Morpheus savored the feeling. His being bled into yours in the truest sense of Endless. It made it so that, when your eyes fluttered closed in time with his, you both saw the cosmos.
His hands felt cool as he rested them on the sides of your warm face. Slender fingers cupped your cheeks with such a tender reverence. He held you like glass as your Dream slipped from his grasp and fully into yours. There it was. He felt it in how your lips moved against his like there was no longer space for him to fill.
Slowly, you pulled away from Morpheus, and so were the last bits of Dream pulled away too. Your hands moved up from his shoulders and skirted about his pronounced collarbone. A swift breath fell from Morpheus’ lips when your palm pressed against his throat.
“You’re awake.”
“Am I?” You asked, tone sharp and fingers tracing the peaks of his pale face as you did each time you broke free. “You only visit when I’m dreaming and you’re still here. Tell me, do you prefer me docile in my Dream or when I’m aware like this?”
Morpheus bit his tongue before his old ways of bitterness fell from the tip of it. At his silence, your hands fell from his face and to your sides, empty. A scowl had replaced the smile you wore before, but it carried a similar heat. With lucidity came the shedding of pretense.
“Well? Which is it?”
“It is not often that I have to choose.”
You let out a huff at his echoed words. “At least tell me why you come back. Why?”
Morpheus glanced around the apartment. Despite your lucidity, the original setting of your Dream remained intact. Even the pieces he curated stayed situated between your trinkets and bobbles. How easily you could erase each trace of him from your Dream, your home; but you chose not to, you chose to keep him around.
“Your Dreams are of such simplicity. A late morning or early night, but always shared.”
“Shared with whatever face you wear before I wake up.”
“But you’re not awake, as you pointed out,” Morpheus mused, craning his neck down towards you. “You chose to stay here, even after you become aware.”
“I like it here,” you countered.
Morpheus leaned in closer until he felt your breath dance along his skin again in a waltz. “You chose me. You keep me here until you truly wake.”
“I like you. I think.”
He loomed now, arms snaking about your waist once more. No space for him made he had no choice but to invade yours. “You think?”
“I do.”
“You are the Master of your Dream now,” Morpheus pressed. “You should know.”“And you, the Master of every other Dream, know?”
He did, but he bit his tongue again. It was you who had to choose. Morpheus had already made his choice. He had made it the first time he indulged in your lucid dreaming. Power was out of his hands, and, for the first time, he found himself enjoying it.
“Well, then let’s not wait until next time.”
Soft lips met soft flesh again, and the Dream changed. The apartment kitchen melted into a bedroom full of space for just the two of you.
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eviesaurusrex · 1 year
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“Does the Sandman dream himself? And if he does, does he have sweet dreams, like with Hob Gadling?”
“How sweet are we talking? 👀”
[And then I couldn’t understand the follow-up question because everyone was still laughing, but it was something about “[…] family like most of us do?”]
“Honestly, I don’t think he does dream. Because I don’t think he sleeps. Uhm, I think that his responsibility is to the collective unconsciousness of the universe and that never stops. And every waking moment, he is fighting to preserve the safety of our dreams. So unfortunately, he does not have time for his own.” — Tom Sturridge
You can be so damn sure that I will write something about this because Morpheus deserves a bit of rest of his world-preserving duties 🥺❤️
You even get my video because I’m generous 👀❤️
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I finished reading the last chapter for Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus, and it was good. Though I wouldn't be opposed to seeing an alternate ending where the Reader lives with Morpheus in the Dreaming and they get their happy ending.
Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus - ALTERNATIVE ENDING
[Check out the full series] | Sandman-inspired playlist | 🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀
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[...]
"Hugo!" you exclaimed. Unable to stop yourself from reaching for the missed pet, you crouched the moment you saw his red fur. "I never thought I'd see you again, you little fiery menace! I was barely six when we bid our farewells."
The feline only meowed again and bumped its small head against your leg. Curiously, he didn't leave paw prints on the white, cold sand. Too busy at the exciting reunion, you never noticed Death's slightly furrowed eyebrows as she stared at the cat. What was it doing there?
Scratching Hugo's chin and head, you noticed something strange about his pendant: it didn't read 'Hugo' anymore, although you knew it did the day he passed away. Instead of his name gracing the small metal plate, there were tally marks - seven, to be exact. You could only wonder what kind of trouble that fearless, silly friend had gotten into since the last time you saw him.
"Seven already?" you asked the pet despite not expecting him to answer. "You have two more left, my friend. Use them wisely."
But Hugo only stared at you with his big, yellowish-green eyes. He sat on the pavement on the boulevard and meowed loudly but not at you:
"You can't keep doing this, Hugo," Death warned the cat as if the deafening meow could actually mean something else than a cry for attention. He only whined again, the tip of his tail moved slightly as though it was a snake ready to pounce. "Alright, one last time."
The orange tabby got up from the cold pavement and trotted towards Morpheus who was still sitting on the white sand with your corpse leaning against him. Perhaps, when his grief subdues he'd realize the awful macabre of that moment but for now, he was drawing out the sensation of something he will never feel again.
Out of the corner of his eye, Morpheus noticed an orange, furry cat. There was a certain excitement or curiosity to its trot. It stopped by your leg, or rather your body's leg, and nuzzled against it, purring ever so loudly. At first, he wanted to chase it away, to stop some flea-bitten stray from touching you but he found himself unable to do anything. Each of his limbs was so weighty, he couldn't move even if he had wanted to. Perhaps his heart was too heavy now for Morpheus to ever leave his spot on the white, cold sand by the murky seawater. In some way, he didn't even want to move: there was no place he could go where this hole inside him would become full again.
You watched the scene from afar until a strange feeling took over your form. Ghosts aren't supposed to experience bodily sensations, are they? Suddenly, a freezing coldness embraced you. A tingling ran through your fingertips but you couldn't move them anymore.
"What's happening?" you asked nervously as you stared at your disappearing hands. Is this what death truly is? A human-shaped mist that dissolves into oblivion?
"Hugo and his charity," Death answered in a tone both fascinated and tired.
It took merely a blink of an eye for you to find yourself back on the white sand and not standing on the concrete boulevard. A hungered, desperate gasp ripped out of your chest, clearly startling Morpheus, who hadn't moved even by an inch.
For a moment, the two of you were looking at each other as if you were seeing your faces for the very first time, surprised at the unforeseen meeting. "How is this possible?" Dream asked in a wavering voice. His eyes were still red but he was no longer crying. Perhaps, he already couldn't.
Hugo forced his pleasantly fluffy head underneath your palm. You looked towards him only to notice something fascinating yet odd: instead of seven tally marks on his pendant, there were eight - he only had one more life left. But by looking at Hugo, you also saw your own hand that he so frantically brushed against. There were no marks on your skin, no sign of a terrifying curse counting your days short.
"The thing about kindness, my lovely Morpheus," you spoke as you turned to look at him again but not in surprise this time; your gaze remained ever so kind and loving, just the way he deserved, "is that it always comes back."
Barely finishing your sentence, you felt his lips touch yours. His skin felt strangely cold but in an unpleasant way. To think you would have left without ever feeling it! Morpheus's kiss was the loudest confession he could have given you, filled with passion and desperation you had never felt before. In that impulsive moment of intimacy, he ripped himself open for you to see.
Cold winter wind brushed against your lips when he pulled away. His face, however, remained at a flustering close distance. "Then let me return yours," he whispered.
Dream's hand firmly grabbed yours. Once again, a tornado of sand circled the two of you. What was once a small town of Southend-on-sea, became a gigantic palace, a true castle, of marble halls and crystal ceilings. It looked nostalgic in its unbearable emptiness as if it had been forgotten by its rightful master, forever haunted by dreams of tomorrows that never came.
To your collective surprise, a quiet meow echoed through the spacious palace. Sure enough, an orange hitchhiker revealed himself. "I did not invite you," Morpheus spoke in a stern voice.
But Hugo paid no attention to the Lord of Dreaming. With his tail standing up straight, he wandered off.
Watching the fiery cat disappear around the corner, undoubtedly on his way to wreak havoc in Dream's kingdom, you recalled the strange moment that preceded your miraculous resurrection. "There's one thing about Hugo I can't quite understand. He brushed against my legs but he is alive and I was a ghost. It makes me think about all the occasions when he meowed or stared at empty corners in my father's mansion. I wonder what he saw there - who he saw there."
As if hearing his own name being mentioned, the cat made its existence known: Jessamy shrieked loudly in the distance.
"Speaking of wonders," Morpheus began as he meaningfully extended his elbow towards you. Without hesitation, you grabbed it. "You should see your new home."
He led you through the palace halls of light and pastel colours. The high ceilings made you think of a cathedral but Morpheus never once appeared to you as a creature that demanded worship. The grandiosity of his home was undoubtedly regal, even emanated appropriate coldness. The spaciousness created a sharp-sounding, loud echo that made you constantly feel like you should look over your shoulder to check for an unwanted follower. In some strange way, you suspected the interior of his palace was a genuine representation of Dream's heart: pearly and crystal, waiting to be inhabited but turning unwelcoming in its involuntary emptiness.
After a long while of walking in silence, you decided to speak up about something that's been bothering you throughout the entire chateau. "Can I share a reflection about the decor?"
Morpheus turned his face to you. "Do you not like it?" he asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.
"It's quite bleak if I may say so." Maybe he was the lord of this place but if you were to take him up on his offer of Dreaming being your new home, you had to be honest with him. And, just maybe, he could do with a little change too. "The hall could use some bold colours... Poinsettias, perhaps? Yes, they'd look lovely in here."
And suddenly, his every thought was sprouting poinsettias.
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And here's the happy ending!
Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose @farintonorth @oo0lady-mad0oo@all-bi-myselfs-blog @piperstofu101 @magic-magnoliaa @kotonei-molyneux @wheresmyboo @supermegapauselouca @sloanexx @rockergirl57 @aizawa-emma @ruyi-years @commanderfreethatdust @sapphireonline @izzicle@mxxny-lupin @shadowluna25 @aralezinspace
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withoutyouimsaskia · 5 months
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Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)
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��GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader
Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...
Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx
Sandman Masterlist
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It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.
He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.
She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.
"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."
Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.
He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."
"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"
"Not at present."
"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."
She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.
Morpheus calls to his friend.
"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."
"I suggest you do the same, sir."
Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.
It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.
He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.
Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.
There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.
Desire.
They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.
A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.
Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.
You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.
Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.
You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.
You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.
The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.
When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.
"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."
He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.
You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.
"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."
He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.
You register this in his stance.
"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"
You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.
Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.
"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."
"Oh," You swallow down your surprise. "Okay."
Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.
He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.
His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.
"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.
"Everywhere," You reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.
He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.
"May I have the honour of tasting you?"
"Yes," You consent, breathless already.
You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.
The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.
He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.
Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.
Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.
He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.
It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.
He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.
He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.
"Whatever you do, please don't stop," You beg.
Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.
Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.
You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.
Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.
He speaks your name in a caring tone. "Are you alright?"
You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.
You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."
Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.
Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?
Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.
"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.
You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.
Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.
It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.
"Morpheus?! What are you -"
"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," He interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.
Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.
"Much better," He purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.
"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"
You nod.
"Verbal consent, please."
It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.
You gasp.
"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."
Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.
Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:
"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"
"Yes," You breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."
He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.
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Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318
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lili-of-the-dream · 2 years
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representation of me (im)patiently waiting for morpheus fanfictions to emerge after finishing the whole season in one day:
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4humankind · 2 years
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Shout-out to all the Sandman fanfic writers, I go absolutely fucking feral when y'all do the thing for when Dream talks.
Y'know. The thing.
Aaah.
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daddyjackfrost · 2 years
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Chapter 1: A Fated Meet
╰┈➤ ❝ [Stay With Me ; Morpheus] ❞
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morpheus x fem!reader
warnings: third person pov, 5k+ words, i have not read the comics
read chapter 2 here
stay with me ; masterlist
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The air was warm and husk as the full moon illuminated the small village, livelier than it ever was during the day. Peasants swarmed around, singing and drinking. That was the power of the dark, it brought upon such comfort. Hidden, yet not concealed, had been humanity’s favourable way of living.
Death, the maternal eldest sister of her siblings, quite enjoyed small towns. The first act of life and the final act of death felt intimate among villages, and perhaps it was her yearning to understand humanity, but a mourning village was humanity’s greatest display of love.
Walking beside Death, was her younger brother: Dream. Both of the siblings, The Endless, were out in the Waking World for different reasons.
Death, while doing her job, wanted to walk amongst humans with her brother. She wanted him to connect to the living, awake humans that visited his realm. It had been an old conversation that had carried on for thousands of years.
Dream, in all his ancient and sullen glory, had left his realm to appease his sister.
Death smiled at Dream, motioning her head towards the lively tavern to their right. “Let’s go inside, Dream.” Death began walking towards the tavern, her dress following behind her.
Dream held back a sigh. When it came to Death, there was not a single place he would not follow. As much as he disliked leaving his realm, he had yet to decline an offer from Death. For her, Dream would do anything.
Dream’s original impression of the tavern did not do it justice. The inside of the wooden pub was filled with village folk, men and women alike. Loud, overlapping conversations and lit torches welcomed the siblings. In the midst of the chaos, Death and Dream walked slowly through the tavern.
“Must we spend time here, dear sister? I assumed we would visit those who called to you.”
Although the tavern was loud, overwhelmingly so, Dream’s voice wrapped around Death.
“Patience, Dream.” Grabbing two jugs of alcohol, Death handed one to Dream, who looked at her unimpressed. “Look around you. This… this is humanity. This is what they live for.”
Dream scanned the tavern, taking in the scene before him. His eyes trailed their clothes, their hair, and their mannerisms. Dream did not know how his sister could see beyond what mortals were, temporary. Humans were nothing special, not to Dream. They had simply been created to give his siblings and himself a purpose. A job.
“I do not know how one could want to live this life. They are miserable. Why else do they sleep as much as they do? Spend much of their life in my realm?”
Death rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her drink. As she did, Dream placed his drink on an empty table, abandoning it.
“Humans are so much more than you give them credit for, Dream.”
“Doubtful,” Dream said, slightly amused. Death’s relentless pursuit was admirable. “A human could not love this life. This is why they kill and return to you so quickly.”
Death raised an eyebrow, a challenging glint in her eyes. “Is that so?”
Dream nodded, once. He controlled the realm of dreams and nightmares. He was the King of The Dreaming, he knew what humans yearned for, dreamed for, and it was not this. Nightmares for humans consisted of happenings from the Waking World; debt, illness, loss, and fear.
Mortals feared their own creations, as well as his.
Death began walking. “I want to introduce you to someone, Dream. Someone I believe may change your stubborn mind.”
Curious, Dream followed his sister. The Endless were not supposed to mingle with mortals, not unless absolutely necessary. And his sister was not one to break the rules.
Death stopped in her tracks, staring at a table of women. Dream paused next to her, his eyes landing on a woman half standing in her seat, her voice passionately carrying through the tavern.
“I will never die, Karisa. I recommend you do not as well. Look around you,” the woman spread her arms, motioning to the tavern, “there is so much to live for. Why would death take me from a world I was born to love?”
Dream’s eyes darkened. There was something in the woman’s voice that called to him, cut through the noise of the tavern and reached his ears. Intrigued, Dream shifted closer to the woman.
At the slight movement next to her, Death’s lip twitched. She leaned into Dream, speaking quietly.
“This, Dream, is Y/n L/n. A mortal not afraid of death, but afraid of not loving enough.”
Dream stood straighter. “You once asked me if a human could love their life enough to live it forever, and I believe we may have just found our answer.”
Dream hummed in response. With the slight tilt of his head, he considered this human. At first glance, she appeared to look like any other woman that visited his realm. Dream’s eyes travelled the length of the woman. Her hair seemed to shine, her eyes twinkled, and something magical seemed to run in her blood.
It was with distraught as Dream of The Endless realized he found this human to be beautiful.
From the corner of her eyes, Death tried to decipher the look on her brother’s face. Yet, Dream remained stoic and unmoved.
“We all die, Y/n. There is no escaping it.” Karisa, the blonde woman sitting across Y/n, stated.
Y/n shook her head, tucking her escaped hair behind her ear. “No,” she disagreed. “If this life was a gift, Death shall not take it back. Surely it cannot be that hateful.”
Death grinned, and Dream’s soft pink lips twitched.
“Are you hateful, sister?”
Death let out a small laugh. “Not even close,” she whispered back.
“What do you propose, then? How will you live your life to escape death?” Karisa asked, amused.
Death, Dream, and the other women around the table leaned closer, intrigued by Y/n’s answer.
“Simple,” Y/n sat back on her stool. “I will simply live my life, promising to love openly. There is such a wide sea I have yet to explore, land I have yet to see. I know I shall live my life to the fullest. And my love for living will save me.”
Dream let out the softest of sighs. He had never heard a human speak in such a way. The very reason he existed was because when the Waking World left humans wanting and weary, they would enter his realm.
If humans began to love their waking life, would there be a need for The Dreaming?
Dream planned to ask Lucienne about Y/n. What she dreamed of. What scared her. Why did he not recognize her from his realm?
Karisa, seemingly familiar with Y/n’s passion, laughed. “Love is not that strong, my naive dove. It cannot save you.”
Y/n��s eyes seemed to glow brighter, determined. “On the contrary, my dear Karisa, I believe love to be very strong. And I have much to love, much to give my heart to.” With a smile that only a friend could decipher, Y/n said, “you know how much love I have to give.”
Karisa let out a small smile, shaking her head. “Yes, darling. You and your overly large heart.”
Y/n brought her jug to her lips, smiling at her friend.
Death shared a look with Dream. Many, many, eons ago, Death and Dream laid their opinions about humans on the table. Dream, confined to the human unconscious, believed that mortals could never love their lives, hence his very purpose.
Death, closer to humanity than any of her siblings, argued that a human’s capacity to live their life had little to do with eternity, and more with their ability to love.
With a nod, Death straightened and laid her hand upon Dream’s shoulder. “I grant Y/n L/n immortality. For as long as she loves her life and yearns to live, she shall live.” Turning to look at Dream, Death continued. “I, Death of The Endless, grant Dream of The Endless to take her life, if the chance arises.”
Dream tensed under Death’s touch, his lips parting for the slightest of moments at Death’s change of tone. Dream had taken lives before, but Death’s permission seemed intimate, like a ribbon of fate had been tied to his name.
Death released her grip on Dream’s shoulder and smiled at him.
“Learn from Y/n, Dream. Let her guide you to the meaning of humanity. And more importantly,” Death’s voice turned breathy, ancient, “she is yours.”
Dream’s lips twitched down. The air around him grew heavy and darkness crept into the tavern.
“Explain the meaning behind your last sentence, sister.”
Dream’s voice was huskier, taunting. It prickled the nape of Death’s neck. Although Death was older and wiser, she had seemingly forgotten that Death also ruled Nightmares, and his company was not all pleasant.
Stepping away from her brother, Death smiled. “I’m but a messenger of fate, Dream.”
Dream stared at the space Death occupied before she vanished. Flexing his fingers behind his back, Dream slipped into the shadows. He would wait to speak with Y/n, once they were alone.
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Positioned at her highest, brightest point, the moon stood proud as the tavern emptied and the village-folk found their way back to straw mattresses and the cold floor.
Y/n, the last of her friends to remain, walked out of the tavern with the energy of a child. Hours within the crowded bar did little to hinder her appearance. Among the dirty, poorly mannered villagers, Y/n appeared to be a dream.
Dark calculating eyes watch the mortal from the shadows. Dream emerges into the moonlight with grace, his black robes dragging against the dirt road. Hand clasped behind his back, he stands tall as Y/n walks away from him.
“Are you the one who speaks of defying death?”
Dream’s voice is low and he speaks his words slowly, drawing her in. Y/n halts, her back instantly straightening. With caution, she turns and a small gasp escapes her.
Standing before her is a tall, lean man with snow-white skin, and long black hair. She recognizes the embroidery on his black robes as those of the wealthy. Shadows hide his features, but Y/n does not miss his sharp jaw or the downward curve of his lips.
Strange, she thinks, everything about him is dark, except his lips.
“Love, was it?” The stranger’s voice vibrates against Y/n’s spine. “Your love for life will be your saving grace?”
Y/n turned completely, coming face-to-face with a being that resembled a man, yet felt anything but.
“Are you mocking me, sir?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at the man. She had not seen him in the tavern, and the man before her was not dismissable.
“Anything but, human. I find your love for living intriguing.” Dream took one step closer, his voice ticking Y/n’s cheek. “You must tell me how far love gets you.”
Dream’s lips curve upwards briefly, and Y/n pinches her hand. “Let us meet every hundred years, Y/n L/n, and you shall tell me if you truly love this life.”
Before Dream can slip back into his realm, Y/n asks him: “How will you find me?”
Dream had forgotten how conscious humans can be. As Dream prepared to respond, he noticed a glint in Y/n’s eyes, one that seemed to already know his answer, but yearned for the words to be spoken aloud.
“I will find you, Y/n. Even if you may not want me to.”
With that, Dream slipped back into the shadows and into his realm, The Dreaming. Before the gateway closed, Dream caught Y/n’s brief smile and turned his head. He had experienced enough of humanity to last him a thousand years.
Waiting in Dream’s throne room, Lucienne, the chief librarian, stood patiently. She had received word from her Lord to find everything they had on a Y/n L/n, and to Lucienne’s frustration, there was very little.
“Lucienne.”
Lucienne bowed as Dream walked by her and sat on the steps of his throne. Raising her head, Lucienne faced her Lord, smiling. “How was your trip in the Waking World, my Lord?”
Dream paid little attention to the librarian.“Interesting,” he answered, shortly.
His eyes landed on Lucienne’s empty hands and Dream frowned. “I asked for records, Lucienne. Where are they?” Dream’s voice remained as soft and emotionless as it always did, but Lucienne did not miss the flex of his fingers.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I checked very thoroughly and there is no record of Y/n L/n in The Dreaming. The only information I could find was that she is an only child, and her parents died when she was a mere babe.”
Dream rose to his feet, his long black coat following him down the steps until he reached Lucienne.
“How is that possible, Lucienne? Every mortal dreams. We have records of every single human.”
The weight of Dream’s words pressed down on the librarian and she winced. “I know, my Lord. However, Y/n simply does not exist within The Dreaming.”
Dream stared at Lucienne’s earnest expression and let out a small hum. It seemed that Death’s chosen human would be more interesting than Dream thought.
Lucienne cleared her throat and Dream’s eyes shifted to her, attentive. “Perhaps, my Lord…” Lucienne chose her words carefully, “Y/n may not be completely human.”
Dream lightly exhaled through his nose, releasing the tension that had gathered between his shoulder blades. He let himself breathe in the scent of The Dreaming, knowing it cleared his mind/
“A God?” Morpheus questioned, mused.
Lucienne shook her head. “Not quite, sir. I checked the Book of Gods, and did not find her in it.”
Dream walked back to the steps, sitting down. His coat spread out around him dramatically and he rested an arm on his knee, rubbing the skin under his chin.
“If not a God…”
“I am not sure, my Lord. But as you said, mortals dream, yet Y/n does not. She is an enigma.”
“Yes, Lucienne.” Dream thought back to the woman with a profound interest in living. “She is.”
“What will you do, my Lord?” Lucienne tried to keep her curiosity to herself, but she wished to know what her Lord would do. Y/n L/n was unknown to The Dreaming, and therefore, a possible threat.
“Nothing,” Dream answered. “I am not to worry myself with her, Lucienne. I will meet her in a hundred years time, and have my questions answered then.”
Holding her tongue, Lucienne nodded and bowed.
“As you wish, sir.”
As Lucienne walked back to her library, Dream ran his thumb over his lips. There was something about Y/n that irked Morpheus. He was unsure whether it had to do with her overwhelming love for life, or because he did not know her.
“Jessamy,” Dream whispered.
As a master calls upon a servant, a black and white raven landed before Morpheus. The raven bowed at her master, waiting for instructions.
“The mortal, Y/n. I need you to keep an eye on her. You must tell me if she has any relationships with any Gods, or…” Dream paused, “my siblings.”
Jessamy, ever the faithful servant, bowed her head and flew off.
Morpheus stood and dusted off his coat. He would not think about Y/n anymore. He was an Endless, he had a job to do. Responsibilities to adhere to.
Transporting out of his palace and into Fiddler’s Green, Dream clasped his hands behind his back and began walking. He would travel through The Dreaming, visiting each resident and balancing dreams and nightmares, imagination and reality.
As a kingdom does for its King, grass parts for Morpheus and trees loom over him, protective of their King.
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100 Years Later…
Y/n brushed her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose pieces behind her ear. She smoothed out her dress and sat down, pressing her back against the large tree. Although she brought a book to read, the tied pages lay untouched next to her.
A hundred years had passed since Y/n had met that strange man and made an unspoken deal with him. She thought about the man often. His eyes, voice, and most of all, the presence he carried.
Y/n breathed in the fresh air. Her eyes danced across the field, filled with children and their families. A wave of loss washed over Y/n. The man she had loved had died long ago, and her children had grown old.
“I see you are well, Y/n.”
A raspy, lowly pitched voice invades Y/n’s mind, vibrating against her skull. Blinking, she looked up at the figure standing to the left of her.
Y/n’s eyes took in the being clad in black robes. In the sun, Y/n got her first proper look at Dream. His dark raven hair was shorter than she remembered, his eyes held indifference, and his skin looked bone-white. His face was sculpted to perfection, straight nose, sharp jaw, and soft pink lips.
He was beautiful.
“I am, yes.” Y/n smiled at him. “You really did find me.”
“Had you any doubt?” Morpheus asked, curious.
“No,” Y/n answered. “I hope it was not easy, though.”
“Why? Is this a game?” Morpheus’s head tilted to the right slightly.
“Is it not?”
Straightening his form, Dream motioned toward the park. “Will you accompany me on a walk?”
Y/n did not know this man—being—but his voice, soft and raspy, was not asking a question. It was a hidden command, and Y/n was to obey.
Y/n answered by extending her hand to Morpheus, an invitation to appease her curiosity about him. After living longer than anyone she knew, Y/n cared less about etiquette and more about enjoying and loving her life.
Dream’s eyes narrowed at her outstretched hand but his expression remained stoic. With a gentleman’s grace, Morpheus stepped towards Y/n and slipped his curved hand under hers, his thumb resting on her fingers.
Y/n tightened her hold on Morpheus’s hand as he pulled her up. Their hands, locked and pressed together, resembled a sign Y/n had seen once in a book.
Yin and Yang.
Standing, Y/n and Morpheus stood close, their hands no longer connected. Y/n held her breath as she saw a glimpse of stars in his blue eyes, and Morpheus stood still as he recalled Death’s words: “she is yours.”
Morpheus stepped back, turned, and began walking. Y/n let out a breath before running after him. Standing close to him felt uncomfortable, like he knew the secrets kept hidden deep within.
Walking side by side yet with considerable farness, Y/n and Morpheus walked through the forest clearing. Y/n cleared her throat and Dream looked at her from the corner of his eyes.
“Will you ask me?”
Morpheus looked straight ahead. “How has life been for you, Y/n? Do you still love it?”
Y/n laughed, surprising Morpheus. “Life has been hard. My husband, family, and friends have died. Many from famine and the plague. Do you know how hard it is to explain why you are not aging? I think I may have caused mental anguish to some.”
Dream listened attentively. Her words held painful stories, and yet her tone was light, happy. Before making his presence known, Dream had watched Y/n for a moment. She looked content, uncomfortably so.
“Do you wish to die?”
With furrowed eyebrows and a smile, Y/n looked at Dream like he had asked an absurd question.
“Wish to die? Absolutely not, my goodness. The pain of loss dulls over the years, but I love my life. The feeling of falling in love is so enamouring, I wish to feel it again, and again.”
Dream stopped walking, turning towards the strange woman with the same passive expression.
“You love your life?”
“Yes.”
Morpheus nodded, once. “I see.” His tone remained soft, yet rumbling. “I shall meet you in one hundred years, Y/n.”
Before he could slip away from her, Y/n took a step toward him on instinct. Dark blue eyes glanced at her feet before flickering to her face.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Dream considered her words for a moment, before nodding. “If I may ask you one.”
Y/n shrugged, nodding. “What can I call you?”
Morpheus stared into Y/n’s eyes, looking for any ulterior motives. Names were powerful, and Morpheus had many.
Morpheus parted his lips, and changed his mind.
“You may call me Oneiros.”
Y/n tilted her head, her eyes wide with curiosity as she let his words sink in. “Oneiros”, she repeated slowly.
The sound of his name, old, unused, awakened something in Morpheus. He had chosen to give Y/n that name because it existed before her time.
“What does it mean?”
“You have asked your question.”
Y/n’s face dropped before she laughed. “Yes, I suppose I have. What is your question, Oneiros?”
“Do you dream, Y/n?”
For the first time since Morpheus learned about Y/n, she tensed and her lips twitched downward.
“Pardon me?”
Morpheus took a step closer to Y/n, tilting his head to match eye-levels.
“Do you dream, Y/n?” Morpheus’s voice was soft, but his question—and it was a question—felt taunting.
Y/n considered lying, but when Morpheus’s blue eyes caught hers, she knew that lying would be unorthodox. Such eyes, as ancient as they were, would see through her.
“No,” Y/n answered. Surprising herself, and The Dream Lord. “I do not dream when I sleep.”
Oneiros stepped closer to Y/n, until they breathed the same air.
“Why?”
For the first time since Y/n had met Morpheus, she heard the slightest hint of curiosity.
Stretching her lips into an uneasy smile, Y/n took a step back. Needing to breathe her own air.
“You have asked your question, Oneiros.”
Dream blinked, slowly. His lips twitched upwards.
“Yes. I suppose I have.”
Without a word, he slipped back into the shadows. Hidden from mortal view, Morpheus watched as Y/n stared at her hands before clenching them into fists.
When she turned and began walking, Morpheus slipped into The Dreaming.
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200 Years Later…
“Are you on your way to visit the mortal, sir?”
Morpheus nodded at Lucienne. He stood on his palace balcony, taking in the sight of The Dreaming. His affection for his realm was beyond words, and his tenderness towards his creations often rendered him speechless.
“I have been checking the library for any new information on her, but nothing new has appeared.”
Morpheus turned his back to The Dreaming and stood upright as Lucienne spoke.
“Y/n told me she does not dream. She seemed… upset about the fact.”
Lucienne raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”
“Yes. That was all I asked.”
Hiding her frustration, Lucienne smiled. “Right. Well, perhaps you shall find out more today.”
Morpheus slipped into the Waking World. When his eyes opened, Morpheus stood in what he assumed was a library.
Scanning the old, abandoned library, Dream’s eyes landed on Y/n. She sat on her knees, facing an elderly man. The man’s hair was white and his eyes had grown old. Morpheus recognized the man.
Adam Khan.
Using the shadows to get close, Morpheus decided he would remain hidden until Y/n was alone.
“I do not understand,” Y/n said, quietly. “You have many children, why me?”
Adam Khan smiled, and the room brightened. He laid his brown wrinkled hand on top of Y/n’s.
“Because, my dear, you are my child as well. You love these books, this space, more than any of my other children. I will die, but you will not. Let my love for knowledge live through you.”
Dark eyes watched Y/n’s lips tremble. Her emotions were written over her face, empathy had never been painted clearer.
“Thank you, Khan. I will love and protect this library for as long as I live.”
Adam Khan laughed, standing. “I imagine that to be a long time.” He tipped his head and walked away, leaving Y/n alone.
“You can show yourself, Oneiros.”
Morpheus stepped out of the shadows, arms hanging beside him. “How did you know?”
Y/n pushed herself up, standing. She turned to look at him briefly before smoothing out her gown and walking down an aisle. Morpheus followed her, silently.
“The air chilled, and I felt your eyes on me.”
Morpheus hummed. His fingers skimmed the books on either side of him, thinking of Lucienne and her library.
Y/n tried to keep a stable pace as she walked. Dream’s presence behind her had her body on edge, like she needed to outrun a nightmare.
Reaching the end of the aisle, Y/n motioned at the seat facing hers. “Can I get you anything?” After a pause, she tilted her head to the side, eyes calculating. “Do you eat? Human food, I mean.”
Morpheus sat down, smoothing out his coat. “No,” he answered her first question. “And, yes.”
Y/n nodded, realizing that was the second thing she knew about him. “Are you human?” Intrigue coated her voice.
Morpheus took a moment to contemplate his answer. “Would you like to play a game?”
Y/n smiled, leaning forward. “I love games.”
“I will answer two questions, if you answer two of mine.” Morpheus decided to withhold any rules. Why set them if they are not needed.
Y/n kept her calculating eyes on Morpheus. She leaned away from him and crossed her legs.
“What could a being like you want to know about me?”
Morpheus lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “Quite a bit, actually.”
Y/n’s head dipped as she tried to hide her fleeting smile. “Fascinating.” She looked up, meeting Morpheus’s penetrating stare. “What are you?”
Dream’s expression remained impassive. “Have you any guesses?” His voice was honey, soft yet raspy, like a summer storm.
Y/n tilted her head and bit her bottom lip. She had her theories, but Dream’s stare made her feel exposed, hesitant. “You cannot be human. And defining you as a God… feels inadequate.”
Morpheus’s head tipped to the side, his blue eyes studying Y/n in a way a sculptor studies his muse. “I am not a God. I am more. Endless.” His tongue caressing the syllables of the last word as one would a sonnet, or the name of a lover.
“That is not an answer.”
For the very first time since meeting Oneiros, Y/n felt the slightest inkling of fear. Two hundred years ago, Y/n guessed she may have made a deal with the Devil, but she realized that the Devil was a subsidiary among beings like Oneiros, more than a God.
“That is my answer.”
Y/n smiled, uneasily. “Very well. My second question is,” Y/n spared a glance at the wide window, “why does your raven, Jessamy, follow me wherever I go?”
Y/n watched his expression very carefully, looking for any signs of surprise. Morpheus remained still, his eyebrows furrowed and his stare bold, but not withering. Y/n watched hesitancy dance on his lips and awaited his answer.
“To watch you.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped Y/n and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Dream’s eyes narrowed, slightly.
“I know that much, Oneiros. But why?”
Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “You have asked your questions.”
Y/n looked at him, bewildered. “You barely answered them. You are not a conversationalist, are you?”
Ignoring her words, Morpheus leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you not dream?”
Gone was Y/n’s teasing smile. Her lips fell into a frown and she threaded her fingers together, leaning back into her seat, seeking comfort. “I do not know. My slumber has always been dreamless.”
“That is not possible. You are human. Human’s dream.” Morpheus’s voice was gentle, flowing with thinned curiosity. “Do you lie?”
“Is that your second question?”
Morpheus’s lips curve upwards. He had forgotten what a good conversation felt like. “No.” Dream wanted to ask more about who she is, what she is, but at the last second, he changed his mind. “How has your life been this last century?”
Y/n failed to hide her surprise. She was sure he was going to ask something else, but she accepted the change of conversation.
“With honesty?”
Morpheus nodded, once. “I invite honesty. You shall do well to remember it.”
“The last sixty years have been hard. I was called a witch and taken as a slave for a very ruthless man. I escaped, along with Adam Khan’s children. My time as a captor was filled with hardship. Hunger is a feeling I wish upon no man.”
Morpheus leaned back, his hands folded. “Do you wish for death?”
Y/n laughed, and Morpheus’s eyes remained on her.
“Not in the slightest. I had a few hard years, but that does not mean I do not love my life. I escaped, made friends, learned a great deal about humanity and the power of knowledge.” Y/n turned her head to look at the old, withering building. “I have been given this learning center. I have so much to live for.”
Morpheus looked away from Y/n. Her passion and empathy prickled his skin until he had to look away. A small, hidden part of Morpheus was glad she had not asked for Death. He found her company interesting.
A universe studying the atoms it is made of.
Morpheus stood, tipping his head. “Until next time, Y/n.”
“In a hundred years time, Dream.”
Morpheus’s head lifted and his burning gaze fell on Y/n’s smiling face. “Greek is a very beautiful language, agreed?”
Morpheus closed his eyes and slipped back into The Dreaming, a small smile on his face.
That night, in over two hundred years, Y/n dreamed for the first time.
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Morpheus is intrigued
TW: He watches her w/o her con
Morpheus was intrigued. Honestly everything you did was intriguing to end but this topped the cake. He had come up from the dreaming to see how you were.
It was a simple check up.
That's why he came when the sun was still out. He knocked on your door but heard no response. He materialised inside but couldn't find you anywhere.
Till he reached your bedroom. He heard your soft sighs first and assumed you were sleeping, but he hadn't sensed your form in the dreaming.
He slowly opened the door, and was greeted to the sight of you. On your back. Legs Spread out. With a hand on your breasts and the other fiddling down on your between you legs.
He closed the door and sat in the one of the chairs in your room. Which gave him a good view of you. No matter how hard you tried tho you couldn't come.
He knew of how humans touched themselves for pleasure. He'd even seen some have certain dreams about it but he never thought you would be one he'd come across.
Interesting
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zzoomacroom · 3 months
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Hey guys, soooo I have never written fanfiction in my life, but this just fell out of my brain for some reason. I don't know what came over me, but here's a little crackfic drabble for ya. Just a thousand words of Matthew being a complete idiot. Enjoy! (Yes, I know this premise has been done to death, but I'm having fun so shhhh)
Edit: now on ao3!
.......
So there Matthew was, just minding his own business, catching up with Merv in the gardens outside the palace, when a goddamned nuclear bomb went off.
"JEEZUS FUCK!" Mervyn bellowed, his cigarette dropping from his open mouth and into the pile of leaves he'd been raking. Matthew squawked and catapulted himself ungracefully to the top of the nearest tree.
Oh, so not a bomb then, thought Matthew as he watched the stunning display of fireworks that had erupted above the palace, gold and crimson embers now drifting lazily towards the ground. Still, what the hell was that all about? He would have to ask the boss--if there was some kind of celebration happening in the Dreaming, he wanted to join the party! Hopefully he'd be off his feathery tits on dream champagne before the day was over.
Matthew launched himself from the tree branch, ears still ringing as he made his way up to the palace. He soared through an open window to the throne room. Hmm, empty. So where was the party? He made his way to the library--Lucienne would know what was up.
"Heya, Loosh," he called as he circled down to the table where Lucienne was occupied with cleaning up a puddle of ink that was spilled all over the yellowed scroll she had been writing on. "What was up with the fireworks?"
"Hmm?" she glanced over to him, preoccupied. "Ah. That sometimes happens when...actually, it's probably better if you don't know. For your own sake," she adds pointedly, peering over her glasses at him.
Uh, wow. Ouch. "What? Aw, come on, don't leave me out of the loop. Ravens aren't invited to the party? Wait, why aren't you at the party?"
Lucienne stared at the raven, confusion and irritation mingling on her face. "What party? Lord Morpheus is in his private chambers, there is no--"
But Matthew was already hopping off the table and flying towards the nearest window. So it was a private, VIP kinda thing, then. He was a little hurt that he wasn't invited, but no matter. He would slip in and infiltrate the event, just in case the boss needed protecting from a disgruntled fae or something. And if he managed to dip his beak into some unattended booze, he felt he was sneaky enough that no one would be the wiser.
"You really don't want to know!" Lucienne called out exasperatedly as he flitted away, not looking up from her work. "Don’t say I didn't warn you!"
Yeah, yeah, he'd been to parties full of snooty elites before. Whatever weird shit they were into couldn't be any worse than what he'd seen during his recent trip to Hell. He circled upwards towards the highest tower and perched on the balcony outside the boss's private chamber. There was definitely something happening in there, judging by the noises coming from inside. It sounded like things were getting crazy--a shout, glass breaking, a thud like a body hitting the ground, a screech that may or may not have been human. Shit, the boss man might be in trouble! Good thing Matthew was here to...well, he wasn't really sure how he could help, but he'd figure something out. And he just really, really wanted to know what was going on! Curiosity may kill the cat, but the raven should be fine, right?
He darted into the darkened room and blinked as his eyes adjusted. Oh. No party, then. The boss was standing in the middle of the room, looking even more like he'd just sucked on a lemon than usual. His robe flicked around him and drooped off one shoulder, like he'd just hastily pulled it on (was that...a tentacle peeking out from under the hem?). And was he sweating? He didn't normally sweat, did he? And hold on--did he have cat ears?? Matthew stared, and just as he noticed the ears they receded down into his disheveled mop of hair and disappeared.
"What is it, Matthew?" the Dreamlord demanded icily.
"Uh...sorry to interrupt whatever...this...is, but I thought maybe you were in trouble. And I was just wondering what was up with the fireworks. Scared the bejeesus outta me and Merv," Matthew explained.
The boss looked confused for a moment before answering. "Ah. My apologies for the disruption," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm even as Matthew failed to get the hint. "The matter has been handled. You need not come to my defense."
At that, a poorly-stifled chuckle sounded from behind a marble pillar. "Sorry," the pillar mumbled sheepishly. The boss shot a withering glare at it and the pillar instantly dissolved into a pile of sand, revealing...
Ohhhh. "Um...hi, Hob," Matthew said with an awkward wave of his wing, wishing very much that he could dissolve into sand right about now. Hell, that may very well be his fate soon enough, based on the way the boss was glaring at him.
"Hey Matt," Hob replied with a bashful smirk. He was mostly naked except for an Elizabethan ruff, white knee-high stockings and a pair of 18th century shoes with little bows on them. And he was wearing the boss's helm. But not on his head (cool, cool, not like Matthew had followed the boss to Hell to get it back or anything). Oh, and he also had cat ears. Wonderful.
"Ya know, I better get going, I think Merv may need some help with--oh, yep, he set the garden on fire." Matthew peered out the window down to where Mervyn was currently shouting at no one and flailing around a steadily growing conflagration. "So I should go deal with that. Just wanted to check in, glad everything's good here. Uhhh nice to see you Hob, Boss. Not that I, uh, saw anything. Okay bye!" Matthew zoomed out the window before either of them could say anything else. God, he really needed a drink now.
.......
Morpheus continued to glare at the spot where Matthew had been perched as Hob came up and wrapped an arm around his waist.
"Right. So where were we?" asked Hob, apparently unphased by the whole incident.
"I think we should take this to the Waking if we wish to avoid any further interruptions," Dream replied through gritted teeth.
Hob chuckled and started to massage the knots out of his lover's shoulders. "Yeah, probably. Kids, right?" he sighed.
Morpheus raised an eyebrow at him. "Matthew is not my child."
"Isn't he, though?" Hob replied with a grin, peering over Dream's shoulder to watch Matthew and Mervyn frantically darting around the flaming pile of leaves, making no progress whatsoever in putting out the blaze. Morpheus merely sighed in exasperation.
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kpopgirlbtssvt · 1 month
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Omggg Sandman peeps!! Imagine this-
Morpheus x Gadling!fem!human!reader where she is in her 20s and is Hob’s daughter (who was born years after 1989 when Morpheus “stood up” Hob when he was trapped), but Morpheus doesn’t know that she’s Hob’s daughter when they meet, and Y/n doesn’t know that her Dad knows Morpheus. And they end up starting to date and are in a serious relationship with each other. Hob doesn’t know that his close friend is dating his daughter either. They both find out when Y/n invites them to the New Inn to “meet” each other and they’re both like, “???”… Dream would be like, “You [Hob] are her father??” and Hob is like, “Really, my daughter???” Y/n is like, “You both know each other??”
@dragon-kazansky @gh0stsp1d3r @roguelov @missdreamofendless @honeybeezgobzzzzz
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igotanidea · 1 year
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Be careful who you bring home : Morpheus x reader
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part 2 is up
request/summary by anon: you know how people get pets for emotional support? reader with anxiety or fear of loneliness finds a big black cat in a park and she is just: yeah, you are coming home with me. cat happens to be post imprisonement!morpheus. he wants to argue, but she quickly takes him to her apartment which is conveniently close to the park. reader cooing to cat: who is my little baby and Matthew seeing it from the street and laughing at his boss. with 142 for reader (maybe he said something while being a cat) and 153 for morpheus.
142 was "it's just your imagination", 153 was "put me down" I might have changed the request a little bit but I hope you'll like it. Also thete is a bit of a twist/ crossover in the story. Wonder if you'll get it :D
***
„Have you ever considered getting a pet?”
The girl in her mid-twenties, dressed in comfy, black clothes sitting in front of the therapist frowned in confusion.
“A pet” she repeated “and why would I need that?”
“You know, it is proven that they have positive effect on people who suffer from depression and anxiety, so maybe this would be a good idea for healing process”
“Do you give such advice to all of your patients, doctor Raynor? Did you give such advice to Bucky, as well?”
“We both know he is not that kind of guy.”
“Really, why not?” the girl shrugged “he had some goats in Wakanda after all.”
“Stop joking around.”
“Jeez, fine. I won’t get a pet. In my current mental state I can barely take care of myself, let alone any other living being. Any other words of wisdom coming from you?”
“Not with this attitude. You may leave for now.”
“You know if I was paying you that would be the shittiest session not worth a dime.” She grabbed her coat and without a word, hands in the pocket left the room and not-so-pleased therapist.
A pet. Good joke. A four legged animal who would wake her up in the morning and at night asking for food or caress. A being that would turn her life upside down since it would require constant care and supervision to avoid destroying her apartment. Nope. Thank you very much. She was good enough by herself. Determined to get her head and broken soul back together and get clearance to get back to SHIELD and field operations. She missed that, but apparently beating up a bunch of bad guys leaves you in emotional trauma and in need of recover. Bullshit! She was an agent, for god’s sake, not a crying mess. Her attitude was far from cheerful and optimistic but just today she had to curb her murderous thoughts since one of her nieces were supposed to visit. Jemma was five years old and was still going through her princesses, pink glitter and unicorns faze. She was a challenge to be around, but definitely worth it. Her father, agent’s sister were supposed to drop her in straight to the house, but just a minute ago she got the message about the change in plans. Since the weather was beautiful and it was not often this time of the year, he took the chance for a little walk in the park and decided to meet his sister there instead of in the four walls. As she approached the park, she noticed her family amongst other walking people. Jemma was running around, picking leaved and jumping into the pools with loud, happy squeals. She could not hold back the tiniest smile on her face.
“She’s gonna get all wet and dirty and then who will tend to that?” the girl mocked while coming closer
“Hm, don’t know. I think at this point she would be someone else’s responsibility.”
“Hello, brother.”
“Hello sister” he hugged her tightly “how you’ve been? Life still kicking you in the guts?”
“I mean, when it doesn’t? You know my line of work….” Her brother was convinces she was just some regular office worker dealing with boring documents, since that was simply safer for everyone.
“Right, so mundane and ordinary…..” he rolled his eyes
“Auntie!” Jemma turned around and run straight to her favorite relatives not caring about the mud she left on her trousers while clutching to her legs.
“Hi, cupcake. Don’t you have to much energy?”
“I have so much to tell you! About the rhyme I’ve learned and some new letters I came across and my friends and everything” little girl jumped around in excitement “And I know a new magic trick dad showed me. But I still don’t quite understand it….” she frowned
“It;s ok, cupcake, we can work on that.”
“Oh, thank god. Like I said, your responsibility now. Good luck.” Girl’s brother was quick to get himself some freedom “just don’t give her too much sweets, you know how she gets after that”
“Yeah, too well. See you in a couple of hours then. Come on, Jemma” she took her niece’s little hand sticky with some mysterious substance “ let’s go home.”
If only it was that easy. They only took a couple steps when the little one broke out from aunt’s grip.
“Look, auntie, a cat!” she run over to the bench where unusually big and beautiful animal was soaking up the sun.  Before he realized what hit him, he was squeezed and carried by a little pair of still sticky hands and it was visible he did not like it.
“Jemma! Leave that animal alone. It may hurt you.”
Do not refer to me as “it”. I am a male personification. And put me down! Immediately!
She could swear she heard something in the back of her mind, but let it go. After all, cats do not talk and she was in therapy for mental trouble so it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her.
“Can we take him home, auntie, he’s so sweet, please” little girl pouted
“No. Of course not, look at… him. He is very good looking, so most probably belongs to someone. Not a chance he’s a stray cat. “
“I can’t see anyone looking for him” a couple tears showed up in Jemma;s eyes. “Please, auntie, please….” Great, now she was crying out loud getting the attention of few pedestrians.
“Ok, fine, fine, just please stop crying.”
“Thank you” Jemma stopped her actions in a second and smiled widely showing the jags in her mouth. “I will carry him so don’t worry about it, auntie” she held the cat even closer not caring about him writing in her embrace.
“Just be careful so he won’t hurt you” she warned following her niece, wondering what the hell she got herself into.
I will not hurt this little mortal.
At this point, the older girl was pretty sure she was going crazy. And to think that Raynor wanted her to have a pet to help her mental health, not deteriorate it.
***
“Auntie, look, I made him pretty”
“Mhm, great” she did not even bother to look up from some records she was currently reading “wait, you did what, Jemma?” a second later she came to realization what a five-year-old girl can mean by saying “made pretty”.
“Look, auntie” said five year old was quick to get the cat out from behind and proudly present it. Despite her rather gloomy attitude the older one could not hold back a laugh. Black fur was now embellished  with colorful glitter and was wearing a crown. If it wasn’t for the lack of resources at home Jemma would probably extend her imagination even more.
“Oh” she cooed “look who’s pretty boy” her grin was now getting wider and wider. She was no expert on animal behavior but the look on its face clearly indicated it was not happy with the situation.
“I wanted to give him a braid, but the fur was too short” Jemma saddened
“Don’t worry sweetie, it looks just perfect. Like a ….”
“Princess!” Jemma squealed and turned around with the cat still in her embrace.
“Don’t you both dare. This is humiliating”. Once again there was this little voice inside girl’s head.
“Ok, honey, why don’t you let go of the cat now. I got a snack for you.”
“Chocolate cake?” Jemma asked innocently while playing with her fingers and shyly looking at the floor
“Apple and carrots”
“That is boooooring. And I don’t like carrots” Jemma whined
“Well, too bad for you. I heard veggies give you strength. And then your skin looks healthy and shines almost like the cat’s fur. Wouldn’t you like to look beautiful?”
“I’d rather be smart” Jemma retorted taking her aunt aback with maturity of this sentence “but I guess beauty can help in future. I saw on TV that pretty girls always have what they want so whatever” she shrugged and rushed towards the kitchen where the snack was already waiting for her.
“Unbelievable” her aunt shook her head “but she’ll be busy for a while, so how about we get you all cleaned up, huh?” she picked the cat from the floor and walked towards the bathroom ignoring the writhing animal, who was not happy about forced wash.
Put me down! It demanded again and the girl stopped looking him straight in the eyes trying to check out if she was really going nuts.
“Oh come on, girl, get yourself together. It’s just your imagination.”
She walked straight into the bathroom and started gently combing out the fur. Surprisingly, her action bring the animal comfort because surprisingly to both of them he started purring.
***
Two hours later, tired and sleepy Jemma was picked up by her father and her aunt could finally let the cat out into the wild. It was impossible earlier since the little girl was checking on him every five minutes, refusing to drop this action.
“Sorry about today. “ she muttered opening the door “but hey, on the bring side at least you have a nice story to tell to your fellow cats. Besides, you really are a pretty animal.” maybe it was another impression or the flicker of lights, but it seemed like the cats fur became a bit reddish and he squinted. “go, now, find your owners, get home safe, fella.”
It was just a couple of hours, but the girls was actually starting to think that maybe, hypothetically, Raynor was right about this whole “emotional support pet” stuff.
***
Morpheus bristled and crossed the street. Only on the other side of the road he changed back into the anthropomorphic personification of dreams.
“Um, boss?” his loyal yet rebellious Raven perched on the branch, tilting his head slightly. If he was still human he would probably laugh himself silly.
“Not a word, Matthew. Not a single word about it. To anyone” he reached for his sand and completely ignoring further words of the bird transported them back to the Dreaming “Do I make myself clear” he made sure before entering the palace.
“Sure thing, boss. But it was funny don’t you think?”
“Hold your tongue, Matthew!”
@somest1 @pinksirensong
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madwomansapologist · 7 months
Note
Hi! Wanted to say that your writing style is so nice and it feels so mushy when I read them. I'm truly amazed, where do you gen an inspiration to write?
Can I please request Morpheus x reader, who picks on their skin? I've always had this stupid habit and in result fingers (and sometimes face) are always in pain or bleeding. And usually you're not notice it until someone points it out for you and things become awkward. 💀 (Also I'm so sorry to bother if your requests are closed, I checked but maybe accidentally skipped it)
It's okay if this may be weird or specific and you don't want to do it, I'm still grateful for your writings. Have a nice day!
morpheus noticing your skin-picking habit would include
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Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Morpheus | AO3
synopsis: Restoring the long-forgotten library of Morpheus's realm, your last concern was what your hands were doing. Concentrated on reorganizing and looking for signs of lost dreams and nightmares, it was Morpheus who noticed a old habit of yours.
warnings: none.
ps: omg. you're literally the best. thank you for that! well mostly of my inspiration comes from things that i personally believe. you know that "write about what you know" advice? i prefer it worded as a "write about what you feel." like the last thing i wrote for Morpheus. it was a request about pregnancy, and I could just write about it, but it didn't really talked to me. but perceiving death and deciding that fuck that, the memories of my family will keep me alive—that talk to me. so mostly i guess is just that Neil Gaiman writing advice: don't be afraid of telling the truth. he said that all books are lies told by people that can put truth in them. i guess i live by that. sorry for the rant, but i'm so passionate about it. either way, hope you like this! my requests weren't close by the time you ask for it (sorry for the long wait, i was working on the birthday event), there is no need to apologize! have a great day, dear! 💙🪩
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• The library wasn't going to restore itself. At least, you don't think it can. Doing whatever Lucienne told you to, it was only natural for you to focus on trying to make this realm reach its glory again. You didn't have time for anything else.
• Cain and Able were surprisely helpful with your task. The brothers may not be exactly healthy with one another, but they know a lot about this place you know so little. With their knowledge and ease of sharing it, you were closer and closer to finally find Brute and Glob.
• By the time you were back with Lucienne, you both had so much to do. It was so easy to forget about anything else. To have a break, to eat something, to sleep for a few hours. So many things to do, so much to repair, that all you could was to focus on your work. Not even an old habit of yours could have won your attention.
• You were picking on your skin. It always surprises you when you noticed, simply because you don't do this on purpose. It is just a thing that happens. Most of the times, you don't noticed until it starts to hurt or bleed. And this time, none of that happened.
• Dive into work, and with Lucienne also worrying about the realm, no one was really paying attention to your skin. Your hands picked and pushed, but with no great amount of pain to warn you about it, you just didn't noticed.
• You both heard when Morpheus entered the library. After one of his many quests to find his tools, it was a surprise that he would come back so early. Or was it late? You can't really tell how time works here.
• When you welcomed him, it took mere seconds for Morpheus' expression to change from tiredness to concern. He walked straight towards you, his hands grabbed your face with care and affection, and asked you what hurted you.
• You undertood quickly what happened. You explained to him, the awkward situation making you more and more embarrassed with every couple of words, feeling suddenly so out of place. But when Morpheus was sure that nothing had inflicted pain on you, his softness made impossible for you to remain embarrassed.
• Morpheus silenced you with sweet kisses. His lips roamed through your face, his feelings penetreting your skin. He kissed you whole before looking at you again. And the way he looked at you, the way Morpheus always look at you, made you feel so... so...
• Wide.
• In front of Morpheus, in between his hands, you feel infinite. Morpheus always finds a way to make you feel like that.
• Morpheus may not be the best person to pick on social clues, but he can read you. When you care about someone in the way he cares about you, it's easy to learn about the person of interest. Morpheus was able to understand that this habit was just another facade of you, and he would never made you feel bad about it.
• Of course Morpheus would pretty much rather you not hurting yourself in anyway, but he would never made you feel bad about it. If he ever notice you doing it again, Morpheus would just grab you hand and kiss it. It's not like being gentle with you was difficult.
• And if you ever pick your skin until it bleed, Morpheus have no problem with helping you to clean it. Morpheus can take care of you, just like you took care of him so many times before. He's just being fair.
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if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.
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undiscovered-horizon · 3 months
Text
Rainy Season - Morpheus x Reader
[Spoilers for Brief Lives I guess?]
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[MASTERLIST] | [Sandman-inspired playlist]
SUMMARY: Fed up with Dream's stubborn and at times childish attitude, you leave Dreaming. But when Morpheus's sorrow makes itself known, Matthew has to fetch you before the kingdom completely floods.
WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.7k
It’s a tumultuous morning in the Dreaming. Even if none of the dreams and nightmares are privy to the ongoing feud, they know something is wrong. It’s as though the air in the kingdom, the marrow of their bones, turned bitter last night. Their skin is crawling but the sun is shining as it did yesterday. They birds chirp the same song they had throughout centuries. And yet, against their better judgment, something is terribly out of place.
To be honest, you don’t even remember how all of this started but the damage is already done.
A frustrated scream ripples through your chest, "The world doesn't revolve around you!" You're fuming. There's only so much patience one person can hold and recently, Morpheus had proven himself exceptional at trying to reach its limit until he, unfortunately, succeeded today. "For someone who's supposed to know every thought ever entertained, you sure can not look past the tip of your own nose."
His eyes, cold and hurt, stare at you in utter confusion. Dark eyebrows furrow. "I do not know what you're expecting of me,” he states in an angry voice. It appears that he really does not understand the reason for your outrage. "I am not human, I am unable to look at the world as you do."
Of course he says that, you think to yourself. It seems to be his favorite line of defense. Dream of the Endless is a strange, eldritch creature. He doesn’t comprehend the world like a mortal does and, or some reason, he treats this fact of nature as an excuse not to try. At first, you thought it charming - to see the universe through the eyes of a creature you can barely begin to understand. Who wouldn’t? The strange wonder of the man in front of you made you seek his company again and again. Truthfully, there’s something poetic about it: the reason you’ve come back to him so many times might be the very reason you bid him farewell. For good.
"Good news, then: you don't need a cardiovascular system to exercise empathy.” Your sarcastic tone has an effect on Morpheus. He frowns, hurt by your words, only to grow angry that he’s so affected. Dream’s pride makes him want to not be influenced by your bitterness. Alas, he cares more than he’s willing to admit. "Not everything is about you, Morpheus, and until you realize that, I don't think we've got more to talk about. Goodbye."
Even after you shut the door behind you, the word echoes through the castle. The stone walls seem to whisper it back to Morpheus, rubbing the salt in his wound. How strange it is - to be haunted by somebody still alive. To be the king of dreams and feel hopeless. It would be funny if it didn’t make him want to be unmade.
A thunder rolls. A blue lightning splits the sky in two. Despite the lovely weather in the morning, it starts to rain in the Dreaming.
The storm doesn’t stop after a few hours nor does it cease after a few days. Black clouds cover the sky as they did four days ago. The only change is in the water level: the kingdom is flooded. When everyone thought the rain is bound to stop soon, no one minded much the rising tide. However, when the situation only worsened with no evidence that it’s going to improve in the near future, worried voices started to reach Lucienne. If the storm doesn’t cease in the next day or two, some parts of the Dreaming will share the fate of Atlantis.
If Morpheus knew he was being observed, he didn’t show it. Perhaps he doesn’t feel up for another confrontation. In any event, he remains still, standing against the balcony reiling, as his friends begin plotting:
"How is he?" Matthew whispers to Lucienne. "Has he moved from there at all? Ate something? Said anything?"
"That's three 'no's, I'm afraid,” she answers slowly. The librarian lets out a heavy sigh. "He's just dramatically standing there, wallowing in pity."
Dream really is 'just standing there’. Drenched. His hair and clothes are stuck to his pasty skin. It can’t be comfortable but it would appear that matters other than cosiness are on his mind at the moment. For the past few days, ever since you left, he hasn’t moved even a quarter of an inch. Truthfully, he looks about as alive as a marble statue, if monuments could appear excruciatingly miserable.
"Should we do something?" The raven continues. What he really wants to ask is 'What should we do?’ but Lucienne seems to catch the undertone of his words nonetheless.
"You could ask her to come back but no guarantee she'll want to,” she thinks out loud. "They've fought before but this time she looked really defeated."
Morpheus, although doesn’t need to breathe, sighs loudly. As he exhales, another lightning tears the sky apart.
"Alright, I'll try to convince her to talk to him again,” Matthew states. His worried voice makes him sound determined to have the two of you reconcile. "Hopefully, we'll be back before you need a canoe."
Lucienne doesn’t respond. As much as she doesn’t want to admit to her pessimism, she knows better than to have much hope in the matter of Dream’s love life.
Repetitive tapping on the window diverts your attention from the dishes you were washing. Seeing the black bird sitting on the outside windowsill, you quickly wipe your hands against the dishrag and jog to open the window.
"Matthew?" you ask in surprise.
He wastes no time pleading his case in a plaintive tone. "You gotta go back to him. Everything's gone to shit."
You furrow your eyebrows. Leaning against the wall, you cross your arms on your chest. "What do you mean?"
The raven hops closer to you. "It's been pouring nonstop since you left. He's just standing there, soaking wet and he won't talk to anyone."
It might sound sadistic but it’s a nice thought that he’s grieving your departure so severely. For what it’s worth, it means he’s not as blase as he likes to appear. Perhaps, Morpheus cares about you more than you’re even aware of.
"How bad is it?" you ask warily.
"How bad?!" Matthew screeches. "The House of Mysteries is so flooded, Abel is fishing."
It sounds like 'bad' is nothing more than an elegant euphemism. In his heartache, Morpheus is willing to let Dreaming decay and fall into partial ruin. If your accusation had been correct and Dream of the Endless truly is unable to care about anyone but himself, such a disaster would never have happened. A selfish ruler wouldn’t let his realm turn to rubble because of a broken heart. And if you’re more important than what he calls home, then…
"I'm assuming that's not a usual feature,” you give the raven a half-hearted response. The thoughts inside your head are in a painful turmoil, trying to lift the truth out of the indications.
"Yeah," he answers sarcastically.
Matthew glares at you in anticipation. Perplexed, you rub your arm without thinking much about it. Right, it's the mature and responsible thing to do but at the same time, why do you have to be the one to cave in every time you two fall out? If Morpheus cares for you as much as his dramatic show of pain and grief would suggest, shouldn’t it be him travelling across world and realms to reach you?
The raven cocks his head. Something about the look in his eyes changes as though his frustration has faded away or grown into desperation if not powerlessness. He’s tired and out of options.
"Alright, let's go," you say with a sigh. "But no promises. I still have pride and self-respect and he's still a stubborn..." you take a deep breath, "nevermind. Let's just go."
Miserable.
That's the only word that comes to your mind as you stare at him from afar. One would think that an entity of his sort can not be or look miserable but maybe this world is even stranger than you've thought. His clothes are drenched to the point of being see-through. Dark, once-tussled hair is now stuck to his face and neck. Dream's body looks even more stringy as his head is hanging low between his shoulders.
The rain is almost deafening. Your cautious, hesitant footsteps shouldn't be audible and yet Morpheus turns around to look at you when you come closer.
"I didn't think you'd come back," he says in a low, groggy voice. Dream's eyes, once blue and cold, are now red and unsettlingly vacant. Has he been crying? "What do you want?"
You take a deep breath. It was vain to expect him to welcome you with open arms. An eldritch being with a bruised ego and a broken heart could never make for a hospitable host. Even to those whom he misses the most.
"I still stand by what I said, it's just..." you hang your voice for a moment to find the proper words. Seeing him so broken by your fight makes some part of you want to renounce everything that lead to your argument. Anything just for him to be alright again. But the more reasonable side of you knows that such an action would only hurt both of you in the long run. "I admit, I could have said it in a more civilized way. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that harshness."
His gaze falls and Morpheus looks away for a moment.
Whether he's doing it consciously or not, the rainstorm ceases. Black clouds slowly drift away to uncover a clear, blue sky. Somewhere in the West, if there are cardinal directions in Dreaming, the sun is beginning to set. Despite the significant improvement, the air remains cold. A harsh wind nips at your drenched form. In a vain attempt to shield yourself from the discomfort of the weather, you put your arms around your torso. Still, your body trembles.
"Perhaps I should have put more effort into understanding your concern. I'm..." he turns silent for a second. His lips are apart but no sound is coming out of his mouth. Dream's hurt gaze meets yours. "Sorry," he whispers finally. Despite his voice being hardly audible, the weight of his confession is almost deafening.
"There's one more thing, Morpheus."
Those sad blue eyes stare at you in anticipation. The misery on his face makes you think that he's expecting to have his heart broken again, instead of mended.
A couple of grey clouds reappear above your heads. Oh no.
"I'm tired of always being the one to reach out," you confess. His gaze is too intense and you quickly look away from him. There's much on his mind. "No matter who's right or wrong, it's me who bridges the gap between us. Even if that angers me, I still do it. Every time. And I don't know what that says about me."
Your body trembles again but this time it doesn't go unnoticed by Morpheus. He, quite literally, pulls a coat out of thin air. Dream's movements are almost fearful as he cautiously places the garment around your shoulders.
"Perhaps in certain aspects, you are better than me," he answers quietly while fixing the coat to fit you better.
You know you're pushing your luck when you look at him again and ask a not-so-innocent question:
"You mean a 'better person'?"
"I'm not-" He bites his tongue just in time. Morpheus is not a person. Both of you are perfectly aware of it. But it was the mention of this very fact that had brought such disastrous rain to Dreaming. "Yes. A better person."
There's not much conviction in his words but there is, however, a silent promise to find it.
______
Now that I’m in mourning, I thought it fitting to finish reading "Brief Lives" and the bittersweetness of it felt all the more pronounced. Reading it prompted me to rewatch the show and long story short I’m kind of back in my Sandman feels.
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withoutyouimsaskia · 1 month
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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
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​GIF: Originally posted by @tavners
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader
Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)
Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.
Word Count: 2.6k
A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx
Sandman Masterlist
---------------------------------------------
Fate.
A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.
Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.
The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.
For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.
For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.
Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.
But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.
It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.
Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.
Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.
What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?
It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.
Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.
Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.
The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.
The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.
With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.
The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.
"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"
He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.
There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.
The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.
He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.
Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.
This foray into the water may be fruitless.
You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.
His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.
Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.
He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.
"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.
The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.
At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.
Then there is a pull.
It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.
You are alive, and you are dreaming.
A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.
Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.
As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.
He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.
A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.
You stand by said window, head turned from him.
Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.
You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.
The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.
What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?
There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.
Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.
The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.
It clicks into place.
What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.
Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.
You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.
You see him.
The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.
Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.
You disappear.
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Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.
Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.
Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.
Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.
All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.
He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.
It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.
Would his triumph drive them to distraction?
It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.
He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.
Tears pool in his eyes.
His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.
"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.
He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.
He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.
It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.
Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.
Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.
Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.
The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.
You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.
Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.
He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.
The Fates were making it transparent.
You were the one.
Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.
He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.
Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.
Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.
Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -
Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.
Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."
He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.
When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.
It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.
It has done the opposite.
His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.
He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.
He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.
He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.
For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.
An erotic idea enters his mind.
Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.
Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.
To give you a taste of what was to come.
A gift that only he could bestow.
The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.
"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."
He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.
-------------------------------------
It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.
The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.
The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.
It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.
Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.
He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.
He doesn't even try to fight it.
The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.
It is surprisingly liberating.
He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.
All he has to do is wait.
The door to the building is pushed open.
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Taglist: @herfantasyworldd
"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."
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Text
Sleep Of The Corrupt- Morpheus x Goddess!Reader
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Hello all! Sorry for not posting in a while, I had some health issues and struggled to get back into my writing schedule. But I am back now!
Summary: “Sleep Of The Just” AU. While searching for your daughter, Elaina, you’re summoned and imprisoned by Roderick Burgess. Mistaking you for Death, he demands the resurrection of his son and other unworthy gifts. Instead of fulfilling his demands, you make him realize his horrific mistake.
TW: None really. Cosmic horror (heavily inspired by H. P. Lovecraft). Some fluff, some angst.
WC: 8.4k (Oof…)
Divider by: @firefly-graphics​
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“Ellie!” You shouted down the palace corridors and in every room, frantically scouring from top to bottom for your little girl- only to come up empty.
This wasn’t like her. Your daughter never ventured beyond Fiddler’s Green and the House of Secrets. No matter where she wandered, Elaina was always under the trusted supervision of dreams, while you and Morpheus tended to your realms and responsibilities.
An irritated huff heaved from your lips as you strode down another corridor. This stressful game of hide and seek was beyond exhausting. Alas, you and Morpheus have no choice but to play.
The abrupt sound of a slamming door clapped through the air like thunder, ascending into the rapid approach of Morpheus’s footsteps.
“Any sign of her?”
He shook his head. “None. The dreams and nightmares have found no sign. Even Jessamy has had little luck.”
“We’ve been searching for hours. How have we not found her?” You huffed in distress, wringing your hands as your thoughts spun in overwhelming worry.
If she was nowhere to be found, then wouldn’t that mean- No. Elaina couldn’t leave The Dreaming on her own… Not unless-
Your heart sank, crumbling into lifeless dust at the horrific possibility. Stressful tears glazed your eyes, lighting your nerves ablaze in a dreadful panic.
“Love, we’ll find her.” Hands warmer than sunshine caressed your shoulders in soothing circles. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. Effective as always, your body slowly relaxed in his arms; against all maternal intuition blaring like an alarm, begging you to search for your daughter. “It’s likely she just wandered off farther than usual.”
“Beyond a dream’s reach?” You muttered dejectedly into his coat. “What if she’s not even here?”
“That shouldn’t be possible unless she had an escort. Besides, where would she go if she had the chance?”
Your eyes grew wide. There was a realm Elaina was highly affiliated with, one she loved to visit every chance she could.
Your birthplace. The Waking World.
“How did we forget?” You grumbled, suddenly pulling yourself from the embrace.
“Forget what?”
Unlike Morpheus and his siblings, your divinity was gifted to you nearly two decades ago, after the former Goddess of Chaos passed her crown and abilities down to you. The succession ultimately stripped you of most of your mortal life; all except your loving parents.
“If she could go anywhere, would it not be The Waking World? To my parents?” You asserted, turning down the corridor in bolting strides.
You both knew how much your parents adored Elaina. Since the day she was born, they were instantly wrapped around her little finger. They spoiled her rotten and treated her like a princess, showering her with new toys and pretty dresses every chance they could.
There was rarely a weekend or holiday where they didn’t invite you and your family over for dinner, or offer to keep Elaina for sleepovers and day trips. (Perhaps to give you and Morpheus some ‘alone time’; hopefully resulting in more grandchildren, you theorized.)
“It’s a valid theory, but an unlikely one,” Morpheus argued as he caught up to your hurried pace. “My dreams are always watching over her. They would’ve noticed her leaving with an escort.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s still a possibility, and far more favorable than others.” You paused your pace and spun to face him; already expecting the heavy skepticism gracing his features.
“One hour. Allow me one hour to search my old home, while you continue the search here. Please,” you negotiated and pleaded with a desperate look in your glistening eyes. “For the sake of my sanity. Before we consider the very worst.”
Morpheus sighed in thought, considering every outcome of your plan.
As much as he loves and adores you, you were still the embodiment of Chaos. He couldn’t deny the potential havoc your mere presence could wreak on The Waking World. Even with your totems, which stabilize and hinder Chaos’s effects, it was still risky. Especially during a world war.
However, if you remained true to your word and wore your crown and pendant, an hour in The Waking World would hardly cause any impact.
“One hour, and not a moment more.”
You smiled in victory, launching yourself to the tips of your toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I won’t be long.” You promised, before disappearing in a whirlwind of black fire.
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You stood before your parents’ home, dark and eerily quiet; not a soul to be found.
Must be out at the tavern, or visiting a friend, you reckoned. An irritable groan rumbled in the back of your throat as you strode down the road with tears brimming in your eyes.
Every hope you had crumbled into dust. Your worst fear has come to fruition. Your little girl was missing; only protected by the Fates’ mercy, wandering whatever realm in careless adventure.
What if she’s hurt? What if I’m too late? What if-
Breathe.
You halted your feverish pace; standing in the gentle trajectory of a cool breeze. It whipped through the sleek satin of your crimson gown in flowing waves, effectively cooling you down.
It was oddly refreshing; recollective in a way. Your thoughts slowly simmered down into a hushed calm, refined to focus on your next move.
“Ellie!” A child’s voice echoed in the distance.
Your vitals halted, skipping several beats as your eyes bulged out of your skull. It couldn’t be, could it-
Your feet moved on their own, taking off into a violent sprint through poorly lit alleyways and side streets.
With every step, the distant, delighted giggles grew louder and clearer, filling the crisp air and echoing into the inky night. You rounded every corner frantically, chasing after the laughter like your life depended on it. Please be her, you prayed. Please be her…
The series of small streets led you straight to the laughing culprits- two young girls swinging on a swing set in a park. Of tangled midnight and sunshine tresses you could instantly pick out of a lineup.
You could finally breathe, praising all the stars in the sky that your daughter was safe. You should’ve known Shivering Jemmy was watching over her, upholding her role as Elaina’s self-sworn protector. The little Lord of Chaos has never left her side since she was born, destined to be her partner in crime from the very beginning.
“Where did you find this place? It’s amazing!” Jemmy exclaimed, thrusting her legs forward to swing higher.
“My grandma brought me here when I stayed over last week,” Elaina said, kicking a rock with her filthy slipper from under her lavender nightgown, thickly caked in mud and grass.
The little vein on your forehead was about to pop. You and that nightgown are getting scrubbed with a brush when we return home…
As quietly as you could, you approached the girls and leaned against the swing set’s A-frame with your arms crossed.
“A bit far from home, are we now?” You said suddenly.
The girls nearly jumped out of their seats. Jemmy dragged her bare feet against the gravel, sputtering to a halt. As white as phantoms, they slowly turned to face your impending wrath.
“H-hi, Mommy…” Elaina greeted in uncertainty with large (E/C) glossed over in a silent plea as her lower lip jutted out in a quivering pout.
“H-hello, Your Grace…” Jemmy muttered quietly with a bowed head.
“Are the play gyms at home no longer to your liking?” You asked with a stern edge to your tone.
“N-no, no, it’s not that!” Your daughter exclaimed, flinching at her loud, impolite tone. A solemn frown fell over her face. “It’s just… I had so much fun when Grandma brought me here, I wanted to show Jemmy. I won’t do it again, I promise! Please don’t be mad, I’m really sorry…”
A small, sad smile twitched on the edges of your lips. You should be angry, you know. You should scold her for disappearing from The Dreaming. You should forbid her from leaving the palace for at least 10 years; solely for the stress and upset her little adventure sparked.
No, you were far too relieved to be angry with her. Jemmy, on the other hand, was a different story…
“I’m not mad.” You shook your head as you settled in the empty swing beside your daughter, swaying back and forth in a gentle rock.
“However, you cannot wander off like this again, Ellie. Not even with Jemmy. Realms like The Waking World are not like The Dreaming, it’s very dangerous to be alone here. That’s why it’s important that someone like me, Daddy, Grandma, or Grandpa are always with you when you’re here. Do you understand?”
Elaina’s dark brows furrowed at your warning. “Why is it dangerous here? Are there monsters?”
Your gaze shifted, falling on the amusement gleaming in Jemmy’s eyes. Oh, if only Elaina knew the irony in her interest…
As products of Chaos, you held the ability to bend Reality itself to create unspeakable horrors and magnificence alike. Powerful in every sense, it struck fear in those who knew the vast scale of your prowess.
Because of this, you’ve been called a monster more times than you could count. Shivering Jemmy even more so. Often by those who were more monstrous than you could ever be, ironically.
“In a way… Most beings are friendly and kind, but some are cruel and monstrous. Some that wish to hurt others…” You said with caution, not wishing to scare her. “That’s why you always need to be careful here. Alright?”
“Okay.” She nodded through a yawn. “Can we go home now?”
“Of course.” You smiled as you stood, holding a hand out to her. “It’s far past your bedtime, sweetheart-”
Here in the darkness…
Here in the darkness…
A chant echoed in the recesses of your mind, growing increasingly louder with every step you took. You froze, suddenly paralyzed by excruciating pain unlike any other. It felt like you were being ripped apart-
Here in the darkness…
Here in the darkness…
You fell to your knees, eyes glistening in fresh tears, choking and gasping for air. What’s happening?
“Mommy! What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Elaina cried, crouching beside you, watching in complete terror as grainy smoke slowly engulfed you.
Here in the darkness…
Here in the darkness…
It took all you could not to scream. The smoke was like a torrential current, pulling you under with unbridled force. You don’t know how much longer you can hold on…
With the last of your strength, your eyes locked with your most trusted Lord of Chaos. “G-get Mor-phe-us!”
You let go- suffocated in unfeeling darkness.
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Here in the darkness…
Here in the darkness…
“I give you a coin made from a stone.”
‘What is this place…?’ You stirred in the void.
Here in the darkness…
Here in the darkness…
“I give you a knife from under the hills, and I give you the blood from out of my vein…”
‘Ugh…’ The void lightens in a crimson hue.
Here in the darkness!
Here in the darkness!
“I give you a song I stole from the dirt, and I give you a feather pulled from an angel’s wing for you to lift up into the heavens…”
Slowly, you ascended from the depths, towards a growing light.
Here in the darkness!
Here in the darkness!
“I summon you with poison!”
You choke; your floating body contorting in unbearable pain.
HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!
HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!
“I summon you with pain!”
‘Yes. Very much in pain…’ You screamed silently into the void, thrashing against its soul-crushing depths.
HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!
HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!
“I open the way, I open the gates…”
‘Let me out!’ The light grows brighter, blinding and burning…
HERE IN THE DARKNESS!
HERE IN THE DARKNESS!
“I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar, Allatu, Morax… Maborym calls you. Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!”
Cold and hard as Reality’s forge, you fall from your otherworldly prison onto stone tiles with a sickening thud. Your ruby crown slipped from its place atop your head, and your matching ornate pendant smacked harshly against your jaw and clattered into your tresses from the brutal impact.
A pained hiss huffed against the stone faster than you could stop it- a sharp ache erupted on the side of your skull in strong, harrowing waves. Faintly, you could feel blood seep in thick rivers from the fracture’s wound, tangling your disheveled strands and staining the tiles below.
You winced at every sharp shift of jagged bone mending back in place; slowly subsiding into a dull throb beating in sync with your pounding heart.
Had you retained your mortality, you would be lucky to be alive, or hindered with severe mental impairments. It was a wonder you were still conscious, even with your godliness rushing to your aid.
The room erupted in hushed whispers and startled gasps. You peeked under the strands of hair slipping over your face. Archaic summoning, based on the binding circle and sigils used. Black robes and hoods? Occult perhaps? Cold stone floor and no windows that you could see. A cellar?
“Alex?” The caster’s voice called out. You slammed your eyes shut as a shadow loomed over you. “Alex!”
You cracked an eye open, as small, timid footsteps slowly approached beside the caster. His face was hard to see, but from their stature, they were young. Perhaps five years older than Elaina, if you were to guess.
“Get that crown for me,” the man barked. “But be careful. Don’t break the binding circle.”
Heedful hands reached forward and gently untangled the woven strands around the crown’s ornate frame.
“Hurry, boy!” The boy gasped in panic, ripping the last few strands free with a sudden tug, and handed it to the man.
“Hmm. Gold and rubies.” The caster inspected it before handing it off to one of his disciples.
You repressed the urge to smirk. They must not know who you are, or the true purpose your jewels served…
“Now the jewel. There.” The man pointed to the dazzling gem around your neck. The child reached forward and snatched the ruby. “Good.”
Fools, you nearly broke your façade.
“Well, let’s see what other treasures you have for us.” The caster said with beaming eyes, as he reached forward and grabbed the neckline notch of your fiery bell sleeve.
“What barbarity…” Your amusement loomed through the air with the cold, harsh sting of venom. The grip on your sleeve was abruptly released with shaken gasps and scuffling footsteps. You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling over with a triumphant grin aimed at your captor. “Disrobing a vulnerable woman? What a disgrace you must be to your lover and mother.”
The man smirked, an unspoken equal to your taunting quips. “Awake, are we?”
You nodded, shifting to your knees under your crimson skirt. “I’ve been. Your spell work is impressive, however, flawed.”
His smirk fell with disdain, rousing your own. “Though, I suppose it performed as intended… Somewhat.” You rose to your feet, radiating the very essence of power- of a true goddess. “So, what do you want?”
“I captured you under the laws of magic. Therefore, I command you, Death, to return my son Randall, who died in the Gallipoli Campaign. If you give him back to me, alive and well, I’ll release you from this binding circle. A fair deal, wouldn’t you agree?”
You chewed on the inside of your cheek, suppressing every mocking quip running through your mind.
Oh, this is rich!
“Barbaric and benighted… I’m afraid your demands are impossible to fulfill.” You smiled, enjoying the fallen look plastered on his face. “Death cannot revive the dead. Especially souls long passed on and corpses reduced to dust and bone. Your efforts are fruitless, Summoner.”
It wasn’t a complete lie, nor the entire truth. There were other ways one could revive the dead- albeit at an extravagant cost, often a life for a life, or paired with severe consequences. Something he may have considered, given his talent in magic. Perhaps he refused to get his hands dirty or aimed at cheating the age-old rules of magic.
“Resurrect him,” Your summoner pressed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “If you wish to regain your freedom, you’ll answer my command.”
Your jaw clenched in your simmering irritation. “Do we speak in different tongues? Death leads souls to the afterlife, not back. Therefore, your request demands what cannot be done. No matter how untimely, Death makes no mistake. Your son was destined to die that day, and you cannot change that!”
Your summoner reeled back in disbelief, abhorred by your words.
Calm down…You sighed deeply, recollecting yourself from your burst of anger. “Please forgive my harsh words, it was incredibly insensitive of me. You have my condolences, I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child. But death is never the end. When your time comes, you shall be reunited with your child on the other side. That’s the only solace I can provide.”
“So, what can you give me?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Since you refuse to fulfill my request, I ask this in compromise: If I were to let you go, if I promise to give back your jewels… Power? Wealth? Immortality? Is there anything you can offer me?” The caster asked with a supercilious smirk.
Your lip curled in disgust. He’s demanding ransom for your tools now? Divine rewards for your freedom, for your totems’ theft, for ripping you away from your daughter?
“All I will offer is my word not to curse you and your followers.” You snarled in rising fury. “Release me and return my belongings and I shall forget this encounter ever happened. You’ll live out the rest of your days in peace, so long as you never cross paths with me or the Endless again.”
His eyes hardened at your harsh tone, visibly dissatisfied with your offer.
“Take the deal.” You hissed through gritted teeth. Your totems’ absence was taking its toll. Chaos’s full effect ran rampant in your veins like pure adrenaline, fanning the flames of latent corruption and masked madness, engulfing all semblance of morality and sanity in mayhem’s blaze. “It’s my most generous offer, given the circumstances. Consider yourself fortunate. Had you summoned any other member of my family, they would not be as kind.”
“Well, then. Make yourself at home in your binding circle. Until you are ready to comply, I’ll enjoy the gifts you’ve already given me.”
A cold, dark cackle echoed throughout the room, sending devastating chills down the followers’ spines. Many glanced at the exit, ready to sprint from your sinister presence at the drop of a hat. “You truly believe a chalk drawing will contain me?”
Scarlet lighting pricked along your fingertips and sparked the surrounding air ablaze in midnight cosmic fire. With each flicker, your power spun hazy tapestries of bleeding crimson stars and humming supernovas, emanating a horrific sense of fear your summoner had never experienced.
What fools they were, they realized too late.
This wasn’t Death. The caster realized in horror, unable to look away at the eldritch magic spinning from your fingertips in glowing waves. “W-what a-are you?!”
“Reality’s nightmare, so to speak.” You smiled darkly, watching the flames of Chaos roll from your fingertips in curling wisps. “You should’ve taken the deal, Magician. All this could’ve been prevented…”
With a twist of your wrist, the golden binding circle floated from its stone canvas and twirled around you at waist level. The gold cracked in a ruby-red glow, streaking slowly around the ring in lightning-like divots.
Your summoner stumbled back with eyes wide in disbelief, watching in horror as weeks of preparation fell effortlessly on the verge of destruction.
A devious, taunting smile curved across your lips, savoring the fear in his eyes.
With a flick of your wrist, the binding circle shattered.
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“Why is it that when something goes awry in this prison, I’m somehow to blame?” The Corinthian huffed in disinterest, twirling his bloody blade while rocking lazily in his chair. His mud-covered heels propped up on the library table, dragging sludge in crusty streaks across the grain.
Lucienne wrinkled her nose at the mess, glaring daggers into the nightmare’s skull.
“Given your rogue nature and hatred of me, it’s hardly unreasonable to question your potential involvement.” Morpheus nearly growled from across the table.
The search in The Dreaming resulted as you predicted: Elaina was nowhere to be found. 
Evidently, the Corinthian’s whereabouts were a bit of a mystery. Morpheus was aware of his murderous escapades in The Waking World; kidnapping, amongst other horrific crimes, was hardly beneath him.
Morpheus gritted his teeth and dug angry crescents into his palms. If possibility became reality, if the Corinthian hurt Elaina in any way, he wouldn’t hesitate to condemn him to fate worthy of his monstrosity. Morpheus already had more than enough reason to destroy his creation, why not make him beg for his demise?
“You really think so ill of me?” He chuckled, tapping the tip of his knife against his smiling lips. “See, if I truly hated you, I would’ve found some way to be rid of you once and for all, and kill that spoiled little brat. As for that powerful beauty you call a wife, I might keep her around for my entertainment… I’m certain she’s a screamer in more ways than one.”
“Do you wish to be unmade? Watch your tongue if you value your existence.” Morpheus hissed through his teeth as his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
A mocking laugh fell from the nightmare’s lips. “Is that your favorite threat? You’ve over worn its impact long ago. It’s just another one of your empty threats-”
“Enough!” His voice boomed in a burst of sinister rage, reverberating in powerful, poignant waves. The library shook with an earthquake’s wrath, toppling magnificent chandeliers and infinite bookshelves to the floor into crashing heaps.
“I’m in no mood to play games, Corinthian.” He warned in a dangerous tone. “Did you harm my daughter? Yes or no?”
All amusement fell from the nightmare’s face, slouching in his chair with a huff. “No.”
“Did you abduct Elaina?”
“No, I didn’t take your kid.” He asserted with an aggravated sigh as he lifted his feet off the table. “As much as I hate to rat myself out, I wasn’t in The Dreaming much today. If you don’t believe me, there are eyes all over your domain, right? Ask any of them if they saw me today; especially before your kid disappeared.”
“Where do you claim to be when Lady Elaina disappeared?” Lucienne inquired.
He smacked his lips together in thought. “Out.”
“So, The Waking World then? Indulging your bloodlust, no doubt-”
“My point is, I had nothing to do with Elaina disappearing. It may come as a shock, but the brat is terrified of me. Every time our paths crossed, she’d dart in the other direction. She’d never let me anywhere near her without screaming her head off.”
He chuckled to himself. “How ‘bout that… The King of Nightmares’ kid is easily frightened. Heh. What a treat...”
Silver eyes scanned the nightmare’s demeanor in harsh scrutiny. All taunting remarks had vanished (mostly) and his inflection felt genuine (for once!). Though he was a brilliant liar and skilled manipulator, Morpheus felt inclined to believe him.
And it drained him of all hope.
Perhaps he was too confident in the Corinthian’s involvement; too focused on ending this heartbreaking search.
He just wanted his little girl home; safe and sound.
“Daddy!” A child’s voice screamed at the top of their lungs, as the pitter-patter of tiny feet rumbled through the library.
Morpheus’s sunken heart leaped in his chest- whipping his head around with enough force to snap his neck.
Please be her…
Please be her…
Instant relief washed over him in icy waves; darting across the piles of strewn books and broken glass, with tangled midnight tresses, and speckled from head to toe in a thin layer of grime, was his missing daughter.
“Ellie…” 
He fell to his knees with his arms extended wide in welcome, careless of the glass shards cutting through his pants. Tears streamed down the young girl’s face in trembling rivers. She sprinted as fast as she could into his outstretched arms, waiting to engulf her shaking frame in a bone-crushing embrace.
He could finally breathe, as mountains of stress and worry dissipated into thin air.
His hope was restored.
Elaina was home.
“I told ya it wasn’t me…” The Corinthian remarked snidely, shifting back in his seat with blatant disinterest and boredom written on his face.
“‘I’m sorry! I’m s-s-so sorry!” She sobbed in breathless heaves against his shoulder. 
“Darling, you’re safe. That’s all that-”
“No!” Elaina cried, ripping herself out of his arms. “There-therewasthisstrangesmoke-and-and-Ididn’tknowwhattodo! Thisisallmyfault! WehavetogosaveMommybeforeithurtsher!”
“Take a deep breath and calm down.” He said in a soothing voice, wiping her streaming tears away with his thumb. “Now, tell me what happened-”
“Ellie!” Another child’s voice called from outside the library. “Where are you?”
Jemmy?
Ragged blonde hair scurried through the entrance. Her wide, mischievous eyes now shimmered in odd distress as they fell on the scene. Without a thought, she sprinted over the scattered mess at a frantic pace and latched a relentless grip on Morpheus’s coat sleeve.
“Come on! Let’s go! Let’s go! We gotta help her!” Jemmy exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve and dragging him towards the door.
Confusion distorted his handsome features. Never had he witnessed these girls behave so distraught and hysterical.
“Girls, tell me what has happened!” He demanded, tugging his arm out of Jemmy’s grasp.
Elaina sniffled. “S-Something took Mommy…”
And just like that, all sense of relief lit furiously ablaze once again.
He froze; stunned and dumbfounded, with wide eyes shining in panic. A deity’s capture was unheard of. Cosmic divinities, such as the Endless and unique gods like you, made virtually impossible prey; even by magical means.
Your captors were either formidable foes or fools graced by dumb luck.
A forced smile curved across his lips; despite his worry and rage crashing over his being in devastating waves. Despite every compelling desire to hunt your captors down like animals and inflict a hell worthy of their actions. (If you hadn’t already). Despite everything, the need to protect you and Elaina took precedence above all else.
“Elaina,” he called out softly. Her tearful (e/c) eyes gleaming with guilt and panic met his own, sending a twinge of pain straight to his heart. 
“Don’t believe for a second that you caused this. In no way is this your fault. Dry your tears, darling. I’ll bring her home.” His hand wiped the lazy streams rolling over her cheeks and tucked her dark locks behind her ear.
“Alright.” The Corinthian huffed as he emerged from his seat. “You got what you wanted. The brat’s safe. Can I leave now?”
“You may,” Morpheus grumbled, glaring lethal daggers at the nightmare. “Leave The Dreaming again, and I will uphold my every threat. Remember, my dreams are always watching...”
The Corinthian rolled his eyes beneath his glasses; falling on Elaina with a sinister smirk. 
The young girl squeaked in distress and cowered into her father’s chest. Morpheus wrapped a protective arm around her in a makeshift shield, glaring a look of a thousand threats at the nightmare.
An animalistic growl rumbled from The Lord of Chaos like ominous thunder; quick to root herself between her best friend and The Corinthian’s vile gaze like a defensive wall.
“Heh. See you around, kid.” He laughed as he sauntered out of the library.
In slow shifts, Morpheus relaxed; only daring to drop his arms from around the frightened girl when every trace of the nightmare’s presence had vanished.
The theatrics of his departure consumed more time than he’d liked. There was no telling what sort of torture you were enduring; or inflicting. He needed to leave soon. Your safety and Reality’s stability depended on it.
“Darling,” Elaina lifted her head with a frown at his gentle tone. “I want you to stay with Lucienne until I return with your mother. Alright?”
With a sniffle, she nodded; throwing her arms around him in one last hug. “Be careful, Daddy.”
He smiled, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Always.”
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Pain. Infinite agony.
Swallowed whole by the corrupted dark and vast emptiness, Burgess crumbled to his knees under the pressure of dreadful despair and maniacal lunacy. The vast abyss resonated in a tormented cacophony of his followers’ frightful screams and deranged cackles. Some begged for death, while others wreaked in its promise. What horrors could warp their minds to such a degree?
“How does it feel, Summoner?” your voice echoed beyond the distorted cosmos.
Burgess stared into the abyss with panic; all rational sense failing to comprehend this cruel reality.
“Confined in an endless cage of my creation…”
This shouldn’t be possible… This cannot be possible! How did it come to this? He followed the grimoire’s instructions down to the punctuation! How could the ritual mistake the Angel of Death for a Chaos Goddess?
With what little strength remained, he lifted himself to his feet. In his hurried desperation, he stumbled- trampling over his writhing followers, either falling into Death’s welcoming embrace or shoving them to their untimely end.
An extended hand shot out instinctively to catch his fall, colliding with the barrier’s edge. Burgess smiled, reveling in the faint glimmer of hope coldly brushing against his fingertips.
So even reality-manipulating deities have their limits, the man mused. How pitiful.
With the wall as his guide, he lurched into a sprint.
“Is this not the fate you designed for Death?”
Boom…
Boom…
Colossal footsteps rumbled like a devastating earthquake. His teeth chattered and knees wobbled under its violent intensity, he clung to the invisible wall for dear life.
“Had you been competent enough to catch her?”
Burgess shuddered at the brutal chill in your taunts and ridicule. What had he done to be punished so harshly? He only sought after what any grieving parent dreamt of achieving by any means necessary. Any entity with a shred of decency or compassion would recognize this!
No, he supposed a chaos demoness like yourself could never understand. Your monstrosity was beyond mercy and reason.
“Ignorance is bliss, my foolish summoner…”
Boom…
Boom…
Intense tremors reverberated in such ungodly strength, Burgess was surprised the vibrations didn’t shatter his bones. He needed to move; he knew. Your footfalls were drawing near, albeit at a sinister snail’s pace. Staying put was suicide, running away guaranteed grave injury in his old age.
As the rumbles died, Burgess bolted. He gritted through the strain ripping at his joints, desperate to get away. If he could somehow evade your wrath and wait out your patience, perhaps he had a chance of escaping with his life and sanity-
BOOM!
BOOM!
His balance rocked and wavered in a fatal stumble; stomach clenching in surprise, quickly throwing a hand out to catch his fall. But found nothing.
With a screech, Burgess fell.
The inky darkness faded into a spectacle of roaring colors and freezing devastation. He screamed, twisting and contorting in an oscillating tunnel of blue and purple clouds twinkling in stardust, plunging into the heart of the universe; the soul of reality.
“Wandering blindly into the dark unknown, far beyond this vast and magical reality…”
Fearful eyes widened as the screech of rushing comets and planet-sized meteors whistled past him in blazing intensity. Stars around him buzzed and blazed in a sweltering dance of dust and light, raising thick beads of sweat on his brows.
Burgess couldn’t move, barely able to shield himself from the bursting blaze of dying stars. Fiery cinders seared like blazing bullets through clothes and bones alike. His cries of excruciating pain and babbling pleads fell on deaf and uncaring ears.
Utterly helpless, an unfortunate victim of reality’s wrath, he plummeted further into the maddening dark.
“Stranded before otherworldly truths and horrors mankind was never meant to witness…”
Swirling galaxies and glittering supernovas warped into a scarlet hollow faintly cracking in thunder’s roar. It emanated a heinous stench- something akin to burning brimstone and rotting meat. It seemed to loom in thick, noxious billows, weaving through the bloody chasm with strange sentience.
A living creature this far down?
Through watering eyes and bile burning his throat, he observed the strange fog dancing in helical patterns through the void. They seemed to move with purpose; for what, he did not know. Besides spreading its horrendous funk.
An improper omen, Burgess realized quickly; a vague warning of what waited in the darkness below. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what real horrors lingered beyond the shadows of time and space.
His eyes widened in their behold, witnessing firsthand the unholy creatures of madness and nightmares.
Beyond misty trails and beats of thunder, the raucous, high-pitched cries of a thousand broken flutes blared in a toneless tune. It was deafening- maddening; ringing in his eardrums like amplified tinnitus.
To his right, short humanoid creatures with pale gaunt faces and fibrous bat wings swarmed a twister-covered islet. They flailed in a strange dance, almost mindlessly, to the blaring broken wail. The rampant vortices easily swept their fluttering bodies in their currents- even that failed to hinder their ridiculous dance.
To his left- may the gods have mercy- colossal tentacles coated in thick scales and blister-like pustules emerged from the dark in sluggish sways. Their scale was incomprehensible; one languid swipe could destroy planets! The godless beast could swallow entire star systems, he feared.
“Lest what semblance of sanity rots into chaos and madness.”
Burgess’s eyes fell forward, to his sanity’s dismay.
Before him was the center of it all. The creator of beasts. Primordial madness.
It was an eyeless cyclopean entity; a bloated and unsightly mass of bulbous knots covered in leathery tendrils and mucus-like sludge. Rows of razor-sharp teeth lined the infinite orifice masking its featureless face; ready to devour any careless creature that fell into its jaws.
Much like Burgess.
His lips peeled back in a hopeless grin under his powerful sobs, cachinnating in a crazed chorus under the flutes’ insipid tune.
So this is the truth behind madness? Behind reality itself? He wondered in chortling delight, falling straight into the jaws of fate.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to tell Randall of this wondrous truth! Of all the majestic, abominable marvels lying dormant at reality’s edge!
This truth… Reality’s glorious truth! It was far superior to power or wealth, beyond the hollow values of humanity and sanity’s restraints.
Here, he was a tiny insignificant speck about to be swallowed by a cosmic leviathan, and never felt more doomed and freed.
***
You hummed with a smile, hovering above the crafted reality with amusement in your fiery eyes. The nonsensical ramblings of madmen never ceased to amuse you. Especially those driven to the brink by your own hand.
A low chuckle spilled from your lips. Oh, how you missed this! Basking in chaotic corruption was such an invigorating thrill! You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so free; so unhinged.
Fiery darkness danced at your fingertips in weaving flicks, fabricating every twinkling star and horrid monstrosity alike. This reality is becoming one of your favorites, you think. It was inspired by the terrifying dreams Morpheus had created for an aspiring writer in America. You were captivated by the concept of unfathomable deities from the depths of the cosmos, able to influence sensitive minds through dreams and evoke chaos and madness with their presence alone.
You wonder what inspired the idea…
Screams of pain pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced into the void- oh, how wonderful! Your summoner impaled himself on a colossal tooth in the monster’s gullet.
You laughed in sadistic delight, watching him wriggle and writhe in his last heaving breath. 
Well, that’s no fun…
With a jerk of your finger, Burgess slid off the tooth in a sickening squelch as the gaping cavity in his chest laced back together like a corset- just enough to keep him alive a little while longer.
Much better! Now then, what else could you inflict on your pompous captor-
“Love, that’s enough.”
You froze; paralyzed by a voice softer than silk. All baleful thoughts halted in their fiery rant, instantly snuffed out by calming tidal waves.
A gentle hand slipped past the cosmic flames’ flicker and curled over your own- silencing every violent and vengeful desire Chaos had spurred in an instant.
His joy clashed with your rage. His hope battled your despair. His light defeated your darkness.
Regretful tears rolled in rivers down your face and fell into the corrupted reality below. How could you have strayed so far? How could you abandon all the goodness that he taught you?
How could you let yourself become the monster so many believed you to be? Including yourself…
You gripped his hand as tight as you could, clinging to the warmth of his touch, terrified of letting go. Of losing control again.
Guilt washed over you with a hurricane’s wrath. Your actions reverberated like a torturous echo; the screams of terror, the pleas for death, the horrific pain your rage created…
What have I done?
In resisting flickers, the blazing black flames slowly suffocated into a dying hush, compelling Reality’s unravel.
***
“Argh-” 
THUD!
“Ugh…” Burgess stirred in the bone-shattering pain coursing through his body. He groaned into something cold and hard like concrete- The belly of the beast? The bottom of reality?
He lifted his head with a sharp jerk, his forehead gleaming in a sheet of sweat and eyes wide with madness- darting in hyper dashes all over the room.
How odd… Wherever he was, it took the likeness of his cellar. No- that can’t be right! Perhaps his new surroundings were so unfathomable, his mind replaced its nonsense with memories.
His thoughts cackled as he rolled onto his back in a careless flop. How curious… The clarity of his memories was exquisite! Insignificant details seemed to burst off of the constructed reality his memories painted. Every speck of dust and cobweb beamed with undeniable certainty; even his (surely) deceased followers writhing and groaning in their stupor beside him seemed too real.
“Love, it’s alright,” Morpheus whispered softly over your muffled cries.
“I-it happened a-again… It’s a-all m-my f-fault…”
A furrow creased Burgess’s white brows; he didn’t recognize that voice. This was a memory! He was certain! Who was this man? How did he get into his head?
Burgess turned his head towards the voice with a twitch in his neck and sparkling paranoia in his eyes. The man was tall like a tree with a face paler than snow and dressed in a black darker than the night sky. He nearly towered over a woman dressed in red, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace and holding her close to his chest.
Another entity perhaps-
That woman! The ethereal goddess of Reality’s truth! Is she an alternate version of the other deity? Was this still a memory, or did she submerge him into another reality? One with secrets that demanded to be explored?
No! No! No! His mind still spiraled in the truth of his former plane of existence!
His sanity would surely combust if he faced another truth!
“…let’s go home,” Morpheus said, and you pulled from his embrace with a sniffle. 
“M-my totems…” Your tearful eyes glanced at Burgess with strange sorrow. 
What for? He should thank you! Praising you, worshiping the ground you walked on for opening his eyes to reality’s wonderful truth!
The man’s steel eyes followed yours, hardening instantly with contempt.
“I’ll handle it.”
Burgess jumped back with a trembling hiss like he had been burned by the entity’s searing stare. His eyes of steel seemed to pierce far beyond flesh and bone, beyond the blood pumping erratically in his veins, and the fluttering ventricles beating out of his chest. He pierced something much more hallowed and precious. Cold and relentless, it intended to punish several lifetimes over.
Billows of fine sand suddenly engulfed the entities into a grainy vortex. His trembling arms were quick to shield his face from the sand’s whipping wrath. 
As quick as it appeared, the wind died down- and the entities had vanished.
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Burgess did not sleep that night.
He couldn’t- he wouldn’t. No- they’ll be waiting for him in his dreams! Those eldritch monsters beyond reality’s veil, lingering in the chaotic dark… Waiting. Biding their time for God knows what.
To swallow the universe whole? Wreak chaos and destruction to every plane?
He paced his study in a hysterical flutter. The pleas of his followers and physicians, even the desperate cries of his son couldn’t reach him. Their voices were all drowned out by the blaring sound of cracked flutes.
It was stuck in his mind, playing on a relentless loop like a tortuous record. Ear-splitting and harmonious, a monotonous symphony!
No! He refused to let his guard down. The dark couldn’t be trusted!
Burgess halted in his pace; dashing to his desk and grabbed a pen from its well.
Godless. He sprawled messily over a loose page. Those abominations were far beyond any god’s reach. Perhaps they were gods themselves…
“How could I be so blind? Randall-” He spun from his desk, facing a cheerful young man in military attire sitting comfortably in an armchair across the room. “My boy, don’t you see? Those monsters must be gods! Everything- molecules, elements, magic!- it all stems from them somehow-”
Meow…
For one blissful, merciful moment of clarity, the consuming madness within him froze in dead silence. A small sense of rationality glimmered in his eyes like diamonds, turning cautiously towards the subtle mew.
Black as night, sat a cat in the lurking shadows just beyond his study’s threshold. Its slitted eyes shone like a freshly minted sixpence in the moonlight. What a magnificent little creature.
Burgess approached the dark feline slowly in cautious measures. His canines pierced the thin delicate tissue of his lips with more force than he knew. Faint crimson streams trickled undetected down his chin in lazy rivers, too immersed in the creature before him to notice.
With a lithe leap and a skip of the man’s heart, the mysterious feline pranced with grace down the corridor. Burgess stuttered in his dash, nearly tripping over the ornamental runners striping the hardwood as he staggered into the hall.
The cat seemed to wait for him; patiently perched on the ornate curtail of an iron-wrought spiral staircase. How odd…
“Wh-what d-do yo-you want?!” The feline only blinked its moonish eyes; unfazed and uncaring, it ascended the staircase.
Every few steps, it would cast those strange eyes over its shoulder, as if it was assuring he followed into the attic space. A sweat broke over the old man’s brow, he heaved in anxious whimpers as paranoia hindered his every step. It was impossible to think; the thunderous pounding of his heart muffled his thoughts, fanning an overwhelming sense of fear like a rousing fire-
Perhaps this was an envoy of sorts from Reality’s Protectress; perhaps to open his eyes once again.
What was there to be afraid of? He knew the Truth; the Goddess protects the Truth; Therefore, She will always protect him!
Anticipation outweighed anxiety; he dashed up the stairs behind the cat with a maniacal smile smearing his face.
His eyes locked on the cat’s back, watching in wild mania as it strutted towards a black ornate chair seated in the corner of the circular attic. It hopped and circled the cushion, sitting powerfully tall in its center; somehow radiating the elegant essence of a king. The feline flashed its silver-slitted eyes in its rest, blinking at Burgess in a torpid blink.
“Hello.”
A dark voice suddenly called out, inciting a surge of fear and dread within the madman. His eyes grew wide and tumbled back in shock, mumbling incoherent huffs and babbling nonsense. Sitting before him sat a shadowy man with eyes of angry white stars burning into his skull.
The man from before, the one that comforted the Goddess. The one that embedded unwavering fear into his soul.
 “N-no…” The man shook at the shadowy man as tears of terror rolled down his cheeks in trembling streams. “Please! Have mercy! I beg of you!”
“Have you any idea what you have done? The torment you inflicted on your own mind and to her?” The dark deity asked calmly, with striking eyes sharpened in rage. He rose from his black throne to his full intimidating height, slowly approaching the whimpering madman sobbing on his knees. “Can you even fathom the damage you could’ve done to your world?”
Those eyes… Colder than ice and sharper than a knife. Utterly relentless in slashing his delicate soul into ribbons! What had he done wrong to deserve his wrath? She gave him a gift! The gift of sight, of freedom, of Reality’s Truth- the glorious Truth!
Burgess cackled through his tears; all fear dissipating under the blissful warmth of this bestowed knowledge. This painful, burdensome, unholy knowledge.
“It was a wonderful mistake! I sought the Angel of Death- instead I gained something much, much more valuable! That woman- that Goddess! She opened my eyes and showed me horrors I can never unsee! They live in my mind now and feast on my brain- how incredible! It hurts! It hurts… Her reality is too cruel, too monstrous to bear. Please, have mercy on me!”
Morpheus frowned at his ramblings, cocking a brow in confusion.
What Chaos ravaged his mind? What reality had you created for this man?
“If her Reality is too cruel, perhaps my Dreams will be kinder.” The deity said as a sudden gust of wind whipped through the room. Through wide, fearful eyes, Burgess watched as wisps of dark thundering clouds emerged from the attic’s shadows, splitting the air in storming light.
The man shrieked as the looming storm drew closer, throwing his arms over his head in panic.
“Don’t fret. Your punishment shall be a gift…” Morpheus reassured, lowering himself before the cowering madman. “I give you this… The gift… of eternal… sleep.”
A hand unfurled before the entity’s lips, blowing sparkling waves of golden sand across Burgess’s eyelids.
Eyes of lead drooped in slumber’s dark embrace, screaming in a nocturnal silence that stirred his raging mind. With no fight left, Burgess surrendered to his nightmarish fate.
***
“Father! Father! Please wake up! Please!” A hysterical child cried, shaking Burgess’s arm as he whimpered and thrashed in his sleep.
“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” A blonde woman asked, dabbing the chilled sweat from the man’s wrinkled brow.
“Blood pressure is normal, lungs are clear, no fever, no signs of trauma… His coma has no apparent cause, I’m afraid.”
Morpheus loomed like a shadow in the bedroom’s threshold with a cold glint in his eyes as they fell upon the sleeping man. His punishment was kindness; entrapped within the darkness of sleep, he was free from the Chaos that ravaged his mind, unable to hurt or capture another soul ever again.
For targeting Death, for ripping his wife from the arms of their daughter, all in the name of a reckless endeavor- this was the most compassion he could muster for this horrid man.
Neither in Dreams, nor in Reality, will you ever know peace again, Roderick Burgess.
He slipped down the corridor like a thief in the night, set to reclaim your stolen jewels.
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Luminous moonlight streaked The Dreaming’s sky in pearlescent radiance, shining brightly in harmony with twinkling stars on the midnight canvas. Most nights, the cosmic brilliance elicited a sense of wonder and happiness; even more so when wrapped in Morpheus’s arms.
But tonight, it felt cold and empty; a terrible reminder of the horror you conjured.
You leaned on the balcony’s stone rail, bathed in the silver light with a cheerless frown aimed at the stars. Harsh thoughts swarmed your head like berating bees, slowly eating you away into an emotionless husk, numb to everything around you.
“Love?” A warm hand brushed over your shoulder, hardly shaking you out of your thoughts.
“Did that man lose his mind?” You asked in a sorrowful voice, eyes still pinned on the vale below.
“He did.” Morpheus said reluctantly as a sad frown claimed his features. “However, from what I gathered, grief and obsession has taken a drastic toll on his sanity. Madness was destined to claim him with or without your hand.”
“And what of the others?” Your question quivered over a lump in your throat.
His hand fell from your shoulder, gripping your fidgeting hands, and tracing soothing circles into your skin. “Flustered. But they’ll recover. They’ll only remember what occurred as a harmless nightmare.”
Your brows twitched in a brief crease, a faint twinkle glossing over your eyes, but only for a moment. So distinct, but unmistakable under his observant gaze; the faint embers of hope flickering in Chaos’s torrential gale.
“Here.” A hand slipped into his coat pocket and retrieved your pendant, glinting in gilded opulence under the silver moon. A sigh of relief fell from your lips with a thankful smile. Morpheus stepped behind you, looping the necklace over your front and fastening the clasp behind your neck.
You closed your eyes as the pendant fell over your heart, basking in the waves of relief flooding through your chest, washing away every speck of dread and despair weighing you down.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, (Y/n). After all they’ve done, they were more than worthy of your wrath.” He said, spinning you around to face him as he pulled your crown from his pocket. “In this instance, your corruption was just.”
He gently placed your crown atop your head with his hands falling to cradle your cheeks. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, sealing it with his own.
Your eyes fluttered shut with a smile, as all turbulent thoughts fell in peaceful silence. Numbness and despair melted away into joyful warmth, as all you could feel now was Morpheus. 
Your light in the darkness. Your hope in despair. Your Dream in this chaotic nightmare.
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Feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!
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Text
Dream (a little Dream)
Summary: Your dreams bring you somewhere they shouldn't be able to bring you. And even Dream himself can't explain why.
Pairing: Dream of the Endless x gn reader
Wordcount: 1.2k
Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of dead parents, a kiss (or two)
A/N: I know nothing about The Sandman except for what I've seen on the show. But I've been thinking about this for a week so here we are.
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“What are you doing here?” 
You looked around, confused for a moment where the voice came from until your eyes landed on a dark dressed figure. A man. No… Not a man… Something…
“I was looking for…. The dream.”
You said to him, his eyes not leaving you as you looked around, taking the room you were standing in in. 
“A dream?”
He asked, and you turned towards him, a small smile on your lips. 
“No The dream. The first dream.”
When you were little you had asked your mother where dreams came from. She did not give you an answer, but she had repeated this question to you only yesterday, right before she died. Wondering what the very first dream was that had been dreamed. 
“The first dream?” 
He asked and stepped towards you, his face still unmoving his eyes taking you in. 
“What was the very first dream? The first dream ever… dreamed?” You asked him. 
“Do you know where you are?” he asked. You shook your head. 
“This should not be possible,” he murmured, getting even closer until he was right in front of you. 
“Who are you?” you whispered. 
“I am Morpheus,” he said and you looked at him with big eyes. 
“Dream of the Endless,” you both said at the same time. 
And you swore you could see the surprise in his face. If only for a millisecond. You smiled at him. 
“So what was the very first dream you… made?”
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Your dreams felt different. 
They were different when he was there. Since the very first time you saw him. 
You knew these were just dreams. Dreams weren’t real. That is what your mother had told you all your life. 
But….
What if they were?
What if they could be real?
It had been almost four years since the first time you met Morpheus.
At least in your adult life. 
When you cleaned up your mothers house to sell it you came over paintings you did when you were a child. And while you weren’t an artist, deep down you knew the man with the dark clothes and the pitch black hair on your drawings must have been him. 
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“Are you real?” You were sitting in the grass overlooking his kingdom, Morpheus sitting beside you like a stature. 
“Are you real?” he asked and you rolled your eyes. 
“Can you ever answer one of my questions, my Lord?” you teased.
“I can,” he said and got up, holding his hand out for you to take. 
“But you won’t,” you said knowingly, taking his hand, letting him help you up. 
“You just have to ask the right question, Starshine,” he said, kissing your forehead, squeezing your hand before he let go. 
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“Do you know why I keep coming here?” you asked, standing in front of him.
“I wish I knew,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over your cheek. 
“Maybe….” you began, but stopped yourself. 
“Maybe?” he asked. 
“Maybe you are the reason I am coming here. Maybe I should be here,” you whispered and tilted your face up to look at him. 
“Maybe,” he whispered, before his lips softly found yours for the very first time. 
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“This is it,” you announced years later as you laid next to him, his fingers brushing over your naked shoulder, your head on his chest, trying to imprint his touch on your skin. 
“I know,” he said and you closed your eyes with a sigh and sat yourself up, taking the covers with you. 
He watched you as you got dressed. You still didn’t know for sure how all of this worked, but apparently just waking up or… walking out wasn’t something you could do with him. 
“I can not continue to live in my dreams. It’s been almost ten years and I… I have to move on. I don’t…. I don’t belong here….” you whispered, looking at him with sad eyes. 
“I know,” he said again and you wanted to cry. To scream. To have him be real. In your real life.
“Make me belong here,” you blinked your tears away, mumbling towards him. 
He got up slowly, crossing the distance until he was in front of you. 
You couldn’t bear to look at him, not when you knew it would be the last time. It had to be the last time. It just had to be. You had to live your life, not chase after dreams. Or more chase after Dream. 
“Is that really what you wish for, Starshine?” he asked and you looked up at him. 
“More than anything,” you whispered looking into his eyes. 
“Wait for me,” he whispered, before he kissed your lips and then your forehead. 
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You woke up with a gasp, blinking your eyes open, finding yourself in your bed. 
For a moment you were disoriented before you realised what just happened, tears gathering in your eyes. 
You were alone. 
Like every time you woke up from your Dream that had become so much more, more like real life than everything you did while you were awake and in your world. 
There was a small part that still wasn’t sure what was real and was not.
The only thing you knew was that you were in love with Dream. 
And he told you to wait for him. 
And you would.
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It was a rainy afternoon almost a month later as you were sitting in your armchair, the radio playing old tunes as you watched raindrops run down your living room window. 
“Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me”
You scoffed, listening to the lines of the song as you cuddled yourself deeper into your blanket.
Did he dream too? What would Morpheus dream about? What would someone responsible for endless dreams and nightmares dream about?
You closed your eyes, trying to envision him in front of you, having not seen him ever since that night. You wondered what he was doing in right this moment. Was he missing you as much as you were missing him? 
You smiled softly to yourself, humming the lines of the song. 
“But in your dreams whatever they be, Dream a little dream of me.” 
You sighed before you opened your eyes, finding him standing in front of you.
You blinked.
Once. 
Twice.
But you weren’t hallucinating. He was there. And he was…
You reached your hand out, touching his hand. 
He was real. 
“Am I….”
“Dreaming? No. No you are awake,” he said. 
You gulped, slowly getting up to your feet so you could get closer, taking his other hand to ground yourself. 
“Are you ready?” he asked. 
“Yes,” you said right away and he almost smiled. 
“Don’t you wish to know for what?” he hummed, stepping closer and you shook your head. 
“Will you be with me?” you asked. He nodded. 
You smiled. 
“Then I am ready.”
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