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themirokai · 8 months

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@windsweptinred had this lovely post which got me thinking about Rose and Gault and then I couldn’t stop thinking about Rose and Gault and then I rewatched Gault’s scenes and then I wrote this story. It’s about 2,500 words, most of it under the cut.

“Gault. Lucienne tells me that you have asked for an audience.”

Gault shivered at the feeling of her creator’s voice in her head. The last time he had spoken to her in this manner was before his imprisonment, when she had been a shapeshifting nightmare. Through the painful episode of her capture and punishment, as well as her joyful resurrection, there had been others present and so he had spoken to her out loud. This felt strangely intimate and viscerally reminded her of why she had requested the audience: she had, after all, inserted herself into someone else’s mind.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then come.”

The space in front of her twisted and was suddenly the throne room. Gault swallowed and stepped forward.

Lord Morpheus was standing on the third step of the staircase, hands behind his back, wearing a cloak of shadows and fire. From beside the stairs Lucienne smiled at her warmly. Gault had hoped that he would see her on the shores of creation or… anywhere else in the Dreaming, really. She hadn’t been here since her punishment, and though his face was calm now, she couldn’t help but picture the cold fury with which he had beheld her on that prior occasion.

Gault took a breath and bowed.

“Speak, Gault,” Lord Morpheus said out loud.

“My lord, as you know, in the time that I was … gone … from the Dreaming, I was living in the dreams of Jed Walker.” She knew it was dangerous to bring up what he likely still considered her insubordination, but she had no choice. His face revealed nothing. “In that time, I became very attached to Jed … and so I wished to ask you if I might be permitted to visit him when he is in the Dreaming.”

“I am aware of your feelings for the boy and this request is not unexpected,” Lord Morpheus said solemnly. “I fear, however, that it may anger Rose Walker, which I am loath to do.”

Gault felt her stomach drop and her wings droop. She looked down at her feet. Of course Rose would only see her as a nightmare who wore her dead mother’s face.

“I will speak with her, little dream.”

Gault gasped and looked up at him. “Really, lord?”

He nodded, glacially slowly. “While I do not condone all of your actions, ultimately you showed the child great kindness. And. The dream you created for him … was … amusing.”

They had never spoken of it. The … dispute over her nature had taken precedence. But the fact remained that she had taken a vulnerable, hurting child, and to make him feel strong and happy, she had given him a ruby and a bag of magic sand, and helped him to fight monsters and protect the innocent. She had given him the names of the creator who had abandoned her.

The creator who was even now staring into her soul.

“More than amusing,” Lord Morpheus said quietly. “It was very touching.”

Gault lowered her head, no longer able to meet his eyes.

“I will let you know the result of my conversation with Rose.”

“Thank you, lord.”

There was grass under her feet again. The throne room was gone.

___

Dream willed himself to the portion of Fiddler’s Green where Rose Walker was chatting with Unity Kincaid. Rose’s eyes immediately snapped to him and she frowned. Unity noticed him as well, but her expression was far more amused.

“Ladies,” Dream said, “please pardon the intrusion.”

“What do you want?” Rose said icily.

“Rose, dear,” Unity said gently, placing her hand on the young woman’s arm, “cut him some slack, he’s not that bad.”

“He killed you, Unity.”

Unity rolled her eyes. “It’s more complicated than that and you know it, dear. And besides, now he pretends not to notice when I visit my husb- spouse.” She gave him a bright smile.

Fondness for Unity outweighed his always-simmering anger with Desire, but it was a near thing. “Crossing between the realms of the Endless is impossible for a human, Unity. … And it is easier to not notice something when it is not directly brought to my attention.”

“See?” Unity said to Rose. “He’s sweet.” She turned back to Dream. “What do you need, Morpheus?”

Dream shifted, clasped his hands behind his back and addressed Rose. “You are a child of the Endless, Rose Walker. You have set boundaries around yourself and your brother Jed. I respect those boundaries. Recently, one of my dreams has asked if she may visit your brother. I told her that I would speak to you on her behalf.”

Rose frowned. “Why would a dream ask permission to visit Jed?”

“She was a nightmare when you met her. Gault.”

“Gault?” Rose asked, incredulous. “The shapeshifter who impersonated my mom?! No! She can’t see him!”

“As I know you are aware, your brother was being badly abused by those charged with his care. Gault provided him a respite in his dreams and came to deeply care for him. She was not a nightmare to Jed. She was a source of comfort when he had little else. And I have since transformed her permanently into a dream.”

Dream could feel Rose softening. She crossed her arms over her chest.

“And what would happen if I say yes?”

“Gault would meet Jed here in the Dreaming. Under your supervision if you prefer.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then I will ensure that she continues to keep her distance from both of you. She … is very skilled at being a dream. She has inspired many people since she was transformed.”

Rose sighed and glanced at Unity who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. She turned back to Dream. “I’ll talk to Jed about it in the morning. Send Matthew to check with me tomorrow and I’ll tell him what I’ve decided.”

Dream inclined his head. “As you wish.”

“But no matter what, she is never allowed to impersonate my mom again, do you understand?” She jabbed a finger at him.

“I understand.”

___

Gault waited in the middle of one of Fiddler’s Green’s meadows. Apparently Rose was comfortable here and trusted Gilbert to ensure that Gault did nothing nefarious or nightmare-ish.

“They are coming.”

Of course, Gilbert wouldn’t be the only one watching. But it wouldn’t do to mention that to Rose.

And then Rose and Jed were walking towards her through the field, holding hands. Jed was taller than when she last saw him (a growth spurt undoubtedly fueled by getting proper nutrition for the first time in years) and he looked more grown up and mature. Gault felt her eyes fill with tears. They stopped a few yards in front of her.

Jed’s head tipped a bit to the side as he studied her. “Did you always have wings?”

Gault shook her head quickly. “No. I got them when I was transformed from a nightmare into a dream.”

“Why did you pretend to be my mom? Did you know she was dead?”

Gault sighed and sat down cross-legged in the grass in front of him. “I did not know your mother had died, Jed.” She looked up at Rose. “I am so sorry for that.” Gault turned back to Jed. “I just picked a shape that I thought would bring you comfort.”

“Our mom wasn’t a ‘shape’.” Rose’s tone was bitter.

Gault nodded and looked down at the grass. “I know. She was important. I’m sorry.” She swallowed and kept talking, still looking away from them. “I found you when I was running away. I felt abandoned by my - by the -“ Gault sighed. “I felt abandoned. And I didn’t know if I was more afraid of… things going back to the way they had been or continuing to be alone.” She looked up at Jed. “And when I found you … you felt a little like … what I had lost.” She knew now that it was his Endless blood. At the time she hadn’t needed a reason. “I knew that you were alone and hurting too. I wanted to help you. And I hoped that in helping you, I could help me too. Or at least I could try to be the kind of dream I wanted to be.”

Jed sat down in front of her. “What about the thing with the rats?”

Gault’s heart twisted at the memory but she kept her voice steady. She could do that for him. “The rat was climbing on you in the waking world, and you brought that into the dream. I tried to get you to shake it off and stay asleep but when it bit you, you had to wake up and then I couldn’t help anymore. I’m sorry.”

“You say ‘sorry’ a lot,” Jed said, narrowing his eyes at her. “I don’t think you need to do that so much.”

Gault chuckled. “Thanks, Jed.”

“Why did you ask Morpheus if you could see him?” Rose, still standing, asked.

“I missed him,” Gault told her, then turned back to Jed. “I wanted to hear what kind of adventures you’ve been having.” She winked at him.

“I live with Rose and Lyta and the baby now!” Jed told her excitedly. “It’s so good! I can eat as much as I want!” He sobered a bit. “But Rose only keeps healthy food in the house. And she worries all the time.”

“I’m sure your sister is working really hard to take care of you,” Gault said gently.

“School sucks,” Jed said. “I’m behind in everything and the kids aren’t nice.”

Gault opened her mouth to ask if he was being bullied but he continued.

“I miss dreaming with you. My dreams are all boring now.”

Gault looked up at Rose. “Jed, do you think your sister and I could talk for a couple minutes?”

Jed frowned. “But you’re my friend!” He paused, as a thought occurred. “You are my friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course I am, Jed,” she assured him. “But Rose is responsible for taking care of you. When I was in your dreams before, the people responsible for you were … well. But now that someone who loves you and is caring for you the right way is in charge, I can’t just show up in your dreams anymore. That’s why I need to talk to Rose.”

From a little ways across the meadow, Fiddler’s Green’s human form appeared and waved. “Ah! Young master Walker! I am so glad you’re here! I wonder if you might tell me more about this … ‘mine craft’ you were describing on your last visit?”

Gault realized that she and Rose were pressing their lips together in matching attempts to hide smiles.

Jed jumped to his feet and waved back. “Hey, Gilbert!” He ran towards the figure.

“That was kind of Fiddler’s Green,” Gault said.

“Gilbert’s a good friend,” Rose said, and sat on the grass beside Gault, so that they could both watch Jed and Gilbert. She sighed. “He knows some of the dream vortex stuff, but he’s had so much going on that I haven’t wanted to drop all the supernatural stuff on him. I haven’t told him about my detente with Morpheus.”

Gault nodded. “I figured as much. There is plenty of time for supernatural stuff when he’s had more time to recover.” She smiled at the sight of Jed gesticulating wildly and Gilbert throwing his head back to laugh, then turned to look at the side of Rose’s face. “You have had to make many difficult decisions. And I certainly understand your reticence with Lord Morpheus. Probably better than most.”

Rose turned to look at her. “You do?”

Gault nodded, looked down at the grass. “He… punished me. After he pulled me out of Jed’s dream. He’s since changed his mind,” she fluttered her wings, “but you’re not wrong to be cautious.” Gault knew the odds were good that Lord Morpheus was listening, and perhaps she should have sought another way to gain Rose’s trust. But she would not say anything false.

“How do you punish a dream?” Rose asked. “Like he did with the Corinthian? He told me he ‘unmade’ him.”

“From what I understand, he completely destroyed the Corinthian,” Gault said. “And good riddance. Lord Morpheus did something similar to me. He… sort of disassembled me and put me back into the dreamstuff, but I was still conscious… was still myself. I was just… hanging in the void.”

“Like solitary confinement?” Rose asked.

Gault considered this. “Something like that.”

“That’s horrible! Was it because of what you did with Jed? You were helping him!”

Gault found Rose’s righteous anger on behalf of a being she had so recently been wary of, incredibly endearing.

“Lord Morpheus was angry that I didn’t return to the Dreaming once it was restored,” Gault told her, “but he was more angry that I wanted to be something different than what he made me. He created me as a nightmare and he was furious that I wanted to be a dream instead.”

Gault half expected Rose to disappear from the Dreaming or for her to find herself in the throne room facing an angry dream lord. But nothing happened. She couldn’t even feel his presence particularly strongly. Perhaps he wasn’t watching after all, and she reminded herself that she only spoke the truth.

“But he changed his mind?” Rose was looking at her intently.

Gault nodded. “I think you may have helped with that. And Lucienne.”

Rose gave a tentative smile. “Is being a dream like how you thought it would be?”

Gault felt herself beaming as she nodded. “I had some experience with Jed, but I love it.” She gave another flap of her wings. “I teach people to fly!”

Rose giggled. “That sounds really nice. Maybe you can teach me sometime.”

“You’re Endless,” Gault told her, “not to mention a former vortex. You hardly need me to teach you. But I’d be happy to help you discover what your soul already knows.”

Rose smiled at her then turned back to look at Jed, who was showing Gilbert a dance move. “Jed told me what you did for him,” she said quietly. “For years the only time he had any happiness was when he was asleep.” Rose faced Gault again. “I am grateful for that. Thank you.”

Gault felt the pressure of tears in her eyes and she smiled warmly. “I was happy to do it. Jed is a wonderful child. He deserves so much better than he got. I’m so relieved that he’s back with you now.”

“Me too,” Rose said. “Though I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time.”

“From what I understand, that is a very common state for parents and others caring for children. What matters is that you love him, and you try to do what is best for him.”

Rose looked at the grass, swallowed and nodded, then turned back to Gault. “Will you come dream with him again?”

Gault knew her smile stretched from ear to ear. “Nothing could make me happier.”

Rose smiled back and turned to Jed, calling, “Hey Jeddy, did you know Gault can teach you to fly?”

A look of wonder spread over Jed’s face. “Really?!”

Gault got to her feet as he ran back over to them. “Really.” She affected a serious expression. “But we’ll need to come up with a new hero name for you. ‘Sandman’ is taken.”

“Oh! I have some ideas!” Jed’s eyes were wide.

Gault put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Okay, let’s hear them.”

~~~

I haven’t quite figured out how we get there yet, but eventually Jed decides that - given the wings - Gault is his fairy godmother.

Thanks so much for reading!

#I hope people don't reach the conclusion from this story that I'm a morpheus hater #I'm absolutely not #but #how he treated gault when he punished her was monstrous #and I think it would have had a lasting impact on her #even though she's now a dream #gault #gault the sandman #rose walker #jed walker #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #mirokai writes #miro does sandman

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themirokai · 2 years

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Um my hand slipped and I wrote 930 words of Matthew being the very best raven a sad emo bastard of a dream lord could ask for.

Matthew wasn’t entirely sure how he navigated the Palace of the Dreaming. It wasn’t like the rooms stayed the same or like the rooms that were almost always there (the Library for example) stayed in the same place. He wasn’t even sure that they had a place as it were.

But if Matthew thought about where he wanted to go and started flying, usually he got there.

Lord Morpheus was easy to find in the Dreaming. He had a gravitational pull, like the entire realm was being gently drawn towards him at all times. All Matthew had to do was follow the current and eventually he would end up on the Dream King’s shoulder.

He thought sometimes about how Jessamy must have felt, separated from that comforting current for decades. It made his feathers stand on end and made him grip Lord Morpheus’s shoulder a little tighter with his talons. It wasn’t at all surprising to Matthew that Jessamy gave her life trying to free Lord Morpheus. He was certain that if he was in her shoes (well, not shoes, birds don’t wear shoes) he would have done the same.

Matthew stood in front of the door and cocked his head, looking at it. Lord Morpheus was on the other side of the door, Matthew could feel his pull. He had been Somewhere Else, not the Dreaming or the waking world, and hadn’t taken Matthew, which had Matthew’s feathers a bit ruffled. But now he was back in the Dreaming and Matthew wanted to go to him. Just to check in. See if he needed anything. Make sure he was ok. And so he had started following the pull but ended up in front of this closed door.

He hadn’t reached a closed door before. Usually walls and doors in the Palace just kind of became insubstantial as he approached them. Maybe this one meant that Lord Morpheus wanted to be alone? Maybe it meant that something was wrong? Matthew considered going to check with Lucienne but what if something was wrong now? What if it would be more wrong in the time it took him to find Lucienne and come back? What if Lucienne would be horrified that Matthew hadn’t tried - really tried - to get to Lord Morpheus?

Matthew took a breath, pictured Lord Morpheus, and pushed -

He tumbled beak over tail feathers into the room.

Matthew got to his feet and shook his feathers back into place, then looked around. Lord Morpheus was sitting on a cushion on the floor in the corner of the room, knees drawn up to his chest. He looked far more like a wet cat than the mighty king of a realm, even though he was in his human form. Matthew hopped a little closer.

“Uh, Boss?”

Lord Morpheus raised his head. His eyes were black with stars in them but still looked wet and shimmering.

“Matthew?”

“Hey,” Matthew hopped up to his feet, “are you ok?”’

Lord Morpheus ran his hand over his face then shifted to sit with his legs crossed in front of him. “I am… ok. I was speaking with my sister, Despair. As always it was a trying experience.”

“Do - uh - do you want me to leave you alone? You had the door closed…”

“No.” The answer came much faster than Matthew was expecting. “No, I find I would be glad of the company.”

Warmed by this, Matthew hopped up onto Lord Morpheus’s knee. “Siblings, huh?”

“Did you have siblings, Matthew?” He rested his head against the wall behind him.

“A little sister,” Matthew replied with a shake of his feathers. “She was a pain in the ass. Not the anthropomorphic personification of despair, mind you, but certainly not pleasant.”

Lord Morpheus chuckled softly and reached out to stroke the back of his index finger over the feathers of Matthew’s chest.

That… huh. That felt really good. Matthew leaned into the contact and Lord Morpheus kept stroking.

“So what did Despair want?”

“The usual,” Lord Morpheus huffed, “to goad me. Under the guise of ‘catching up’ of course.”

“Do you think Desire put her up to it?”

“It is possible. But Despair hardly needs encouragement. She hates me just as much as her twin does, though she is generally less devious in her ways of showing it.”

“Why do they hate you so much?”

“Our realms are close together but I exceed them in power. Death and Destiny are too remote to provoke their ire, but I am near enough to inspire jealousy and competition.”

“Why do you talk to them then if they just bring you grief?”

Lord Morpheus sighed deeply. “Because they are still my family.”

Matthew had never been a hugger as a human and now he didn’t even have arms but he had to do something. He came to a decision and ducked his head under Lord Morpheus’s hand as he reached out to stroke Matthew’s chest. Matthew rubbed his head against the palm in what he hoped was a comforting and affectionate gesture.

Lord Morpheus hesitated a moment and Matthew felt his stomach drop. Had he gone too far? But then Lord Morpheus held out his hand in front of Matthew’s feet and Matthew hesitantly stepped onto it. Lord Morpheus lifted him and brought him close to his chest. Matthew bumped his head gently against him and was rewarded with a stroke down his back. Then another, and another. Before Matthew knew it, he was cradled in the Dream King’s arms, being petted gently.

Matthew sighed happily. The problem with beaks, he thought, was that they couldn’t smile.

Update: I’ve written more of these! Click here for more Matthew the Emotional Support Raven fluff.

#dream needs a hug #he gets raven snuggles instead #it works #miro does sandman #mirokai writes #the sandman netflix #the sandman #dream of the endless #matthew the raven #it's real soft ok

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themirokai · 1 year

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I am beyond lucky that the wildly talented @kulapti is a fan of the Emotional Support Raven series. In addition to the incredible art that she's done for Hanging and Loverboy, she also has fantastic pictures of Matthew and Jessamy together here and here and here. (Go, click the links, look at the great art. Reblog it.)

Those images stayed with me and I wanted to write something for Kulapti that could be the background for how Matthew and Jessamy get to be pals. That story is below. Thanks to the inimitable @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising for the speedy beta read!

(Also, it's not required reading, but the end of this post is now canon for this series and slightly relevant.)

Reunion

Matthew felt the familiar swoop of vertigo that signaled when he had switched from flying up into the sky of the Dreaming to flying down through the sky of the Waking. Below him he saw the black-clad figure that was his goal, and he glided downward in a graceful curve.

Lord Morpheus was talking to someone, so Matthew landed on the ground beside his feet, rather than on his shoulder. Lord Morpheus glanced down at him with the tiniest up-curve of the corner of his mouth, which passed as a warm smile from him. He extended his hand to Matthew, who quickly hopped onto it with one flap of his wings, and was lifted to Lord Morpheus’s shoulder.

Matthew finally looked at Lord Morpheus’s conversation partner who was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But there was something-

“Sister,” Lord Morpheus was saying, “allow me to present my Raven, Matthew. Matthew, this is my sister, the Lady Death.”

The woman’s eyes were warm and her smile bright. “Hello, Matthew.”

Oh.

“I know you.” The words left Matthew’s beak before he could stop them.

Death’s smile faltered for a nanosecond and she tipped her head to the side. “You remember me?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean sort of.”

“Sort of?” Death smiled encouragingly.

“It’s… sort of hazy.” Matthew shifted uncomfortably. “I remember you were there and you were. Um. You were kind. And then… and then I was in a different body and Lucienne was talking to me.”

“Those were the important parts,” Death said gently. “And how are you finding being a raven?”

“I like it.” Matthew glanced at Lord Morpheus. “A lot. It’s a good gig and I like flying.”

“And you’ve got shoulder privileges.” Death beamed. “It took some of your ravens decades to make it to your shoulder, didn’t it, Dream?”

“Perhaps.”

Matthew preened. He knew what ‘perhaps’ meant in the Boss’s lingo.

“Well I’m glad it’s working out.” Death looked distinctly pleased. “But I’m afraid I’ve got work to do.” She grabbed Lord Morpheus’s hand, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “See you later, Dream. Bye, Matthew, keep up the good work!”

“Fare you well, my sister.”

“Bye! Thank you … ma’am,” Matthew finished awkwardly.

Lord Morpheus looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Matthew shrugged his wings.

—

Matthew gave his wings a gentle flap to keep his blood flowing: he had been perched on the tree branch for a long time. He wasn’t sure if this would work, but it was important, and he felt like he had to try. Fortunately Hob had some outing planned for Lord Morpheus in the Waking, so Matthew figured he had plenty of time.

When he decided to try to talk to Death, Matthew considered that he might kill something, a mouse for instance, in order to make contact. The fact that he liked eating mice was something that the formerly human part of his brain gingerly stepped around whenever it came up. But he wasn’t a great hunter by any stretch, he felt odd asking another raven for help with this particular errand, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether a mouse’s demise would mean that Death would show up in the form of a mouse. Plus it might be awkward, and the conversation already had plenty of potential for awkwardness, without adding blood sacrifice to the mix.

Waiting outside a hospice was, he felt, a much safer bet.

Matthew hadn’t seen her enter, but she walked out of the front door after Matthew had been waiting for a few hours. Same black pants and black tank top and black boots. It seemed the fashion sense ran in the family. Matthew took a breath, then flew down to land on the pavement in front of her.

Death pulled up short. “Matthew! Hi!”

Matthew gave a little bow.

“Oh,” Death laughed, “you don’t have to do that with me.”

“Um, thanks.” Matthew looked up at her.

“What’s up?” she asked. “Is Dream okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s fine!” Matthew said quickly. “He’s with Hob. All good. I just - um - I was hoping to talk to you? If that’s okay?”

“Of course!” She smiled. “Can you walk with me though? I should be getting to my next appointment.”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Death started off and Matthew hopped along beside her.

“Do you want a lift?” she asked, patting her shoulder.

“Oh,” Matthew desperately hoped she wouldn’t take offense, “thanks for the offer, but I’m kind of a one shoulder type of guy.”

Death beamed at him. “I get it. So what’s on your mind?” she asked.

Matthew swallowed, steeled himself. “I wanted to ask you about Jessamy. The Raven before me.”

“Mm.” Death’s voice was quiet. “She was Dream’s Raven for a long time, but I can’t say I knew her well. He tends to keep you lot to himself.”

That wasn’t surprising, but Matthew still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it. He filed it away and pressed on. “I actually wanted to ask about her death.”

“Okay…” Death sounded wary.

“It’s just… Lucienne told me that when the Corinthian was killed in the Waking, he re-formed in the Dreaming. And - and Lord Morpheus’s Ravens are dreams, and dreams can’t die, right?”

Death stopped walking and let out a slow breath. Matthew idly wondered if she actually needed to breathe.

“Dream knows far more than I do about how the rules work for his realm and his creations. We mostly stay out of each other’s affairs.”

“Yeah, and that’s worked out really great for your whole family,” Matthew deadpanned.

Death’s eyebrows shot up and she turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

Matthew’s beak fell open as he realized that he had just mouthed off to Death. THE Death!

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean -“

But then her expression broke into a broad grin and she laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”

Matthew let himself breathe again.

Death leaned her back against a tree, propping the sole of one foot up against the trunk. She stuck her hands into her pockets. “But I’m still not sure I have any answers for you.”

“Well, even if you don’t know how dreams work, you know how death works,” Matthew said. “So why didn’t Jessamy go back to the Dreaming when she was murdered?”

“You said the Corinthian was renewed in the Dreaming?”

Matthew nodded.

“That was after Dream escaped, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Death nodded and took a breath. “I’m pretty sure Jessamy couldn’t go back to the Dreaming because Dream wasn’t there,” Death said quietly. “He was cut off from the Dreaming so it couldn’t function to renew her. She wasn’t the only dream who died while he was imprisoned.”

“But she was the most important to him. And she died trying to save him.”

Death inclined her head in acknowledgment.

“So now that he’s back and the Dreaming is working again, could it renew her?”

Death sighed. “Matthew, she’s been dead for decades.”

“Sure, but she was a dream, it’s not like she has a corpse rotting in the ground. And lots of people exist in the Dreaming after they die, even if you don’t count me.”

“She is in the place appointed for her.”

“She’s not though,” Matthew insisted, opening his wings a little, “she’s in whatever shitty place she ended up because things were fucked when she was murdered trying to save your brother. The place appointed for her was the Dreaming. And now that it’s fixed, she should be able to come back.”

“Are you seriously asking me to bring Jessamy back from the dead?” Death crossed her arms over her chest.

“No. She’ll still be dead, I’m just asking you to let her be dead in the Dreaming. Like I am.” Matthew swallowed, pushing away the thought that he was arguing with Death.

“I can't just do that,” she said firmly.

Matthew bobbed his head. “I- I understand that you can’t just do that. But… what happened to Jessamy hurt Lord Morpheus. He’s better than he was but it still hurts him. I don’t know that bringing her back to the Dreaming will fix that hurt. In fact it probably won’t. But I’d bet you a pretty penny that it would help. Please.”

Death sighed and her shoulders slumped a little. “I do worry about him,” she said softly.

“Me too,” Matthew said, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t be asking otherwise.”

Death blew out a long breath and straightened up, pushing off from the tree. “She has to want to come.”

“I didn’t know her, but she was his Raven. She’ll want to come.” There was no doubt in Matthew’s mind.

Death took another deep breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She snapped her fingers and a doorway of white light appeared in front of them. Matthew wondered, as he hopped after her, whether he should feel more nervous about following Death into the light. But he reminded himself that it had worked out pretty well the last time.

—

Matthew had expected labyrinthine pathways, or at least a road, but instead they stepped into a blank white void, and there, laying down with her eyes closed peacefully, was Jessamy. Matthew supposed that Death got to take shortcuts. Jessamy was smaller than him, with a band of white feathers around her torso, and while he had never seen her before he was certain he would know her anywhere.

Death stroked a finger over Jessamy’s head. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Jessamy opened her eyes and blinked at Death, then her beak opened and she got quickly to her feet. “My lady! Hello!”

Death smiled warmly. “I have someone here who wants to talk to you.” She stepped aside so Jessamy could see Matthew.

Before Matthew could speak, Jessamy gasped.

“Oh! You’re his Raven! He got free? Is he alright?!”

“He’s alright,” Matthew said gently, stepping forward. “He’s doing pretty good, actually. He escaped a while ago and got his tools back and rebuilt the Dreaming.”

Jessamy seemed to sag with relief. “Oh, thank goodness!” She paused and shook her head, then looked up at him again. “I am so relieved. Thank you for telling me - ah, what is your name?”

Matthew bobbed his head. “I’m Matthew, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“From… from Lord Morpheus?” Jessamy took a hesitant step towards him.

“Yeah. He misses you a lot. That’s - uh, why I’m here actually.”

Jessamy cocked her head to the side.

“When you were killed you came here instead of going back to the Dreaming because Lord Morpheus was cut off from the realm and it didn’t function right without him. But now that he’s back and has rebuilt it -” Matthew glanced at Death “- Lady Death was kind enough to say you could return.”

Death put her hands on her hips and gave him a wry smile. “You left out the part where you insisted and guilt-tripped me, Matthew.”

Matthew shrugged his wings. “I wanted you to have the credit.”

“I - I can go home?” Jessamy looked from one to another.

Death’s smile warmed and she went down on one knee. “Yes, sweetheart, you can go home if that’s what you want.”

“Oh!” Jessamy hopped towards Death. “Oh, please, my lady! More than anything!”

“You won’t be able to leave,” Death cautioned. “No more flying between realms. You’re still dead, but you can be dead in the Dreaming.”

“I understand!” Jessamy said quickly. “An eternity at home in the Dreaming is all I could ever ask for!”

“Right then.” Death stroked Jessamy’s head again, then stood and snapped her fingers.

Another doorway opened and Matthew could see Lord Morpheus’s throne room on the other side. Lord Morpheus was sitting on the stairs talking to Lucienne when the door caught Lord Morpheus’s attention and he stood with a frown.

“Off you go,” Death said. “Tell Dream I said hello.”

“You’re not coming?” Matthew asked.

“Nah,” she said, scrunching up her nose, “got work to do, and we try not to drop in on each other unannounced. You go enjoy the reunion.”

Jessamy turned and bowed low to Death. “Thank you, my lady. You have my neverending gratitude.”

Death smiled. “You two just take care of my brother.”

Matthew dipped his head. “Thank you, my lady. We will.”

With that, Matthew and Jessamy stepped through the door.

—

As they crossed the threshold Lord Morpheus stopped in his tracks, and his jaw dropped in a silent gasp.

“Jessamy,” he whispered, then turned to Matthew. “Matthew, what is this?”

“It’s me, my lord,” Jessamy said, stepping forward. “Lady Death permitted me to return.”

Lord Morpheus’s breath hitched and he ran forward as Jessamy flew into his arms. He caught her in a hug and dropped to his knees, burying his nose in the feathers of her back.

Matthew watched them, feeling warm from beak to tail feathers.

Lucienne stepped up beside him. “Is that really…” she asked in an undertone.

“Jessamy,” Matthew told her, proudly. “Real, sacrificed-herself-trying-to-save-him, Jessamy.”

“How?” Lucienne asked.

“I had a chat with Death,” Matthew said, his nonchalant tone undermined slightly by his preening. “Pointed out that if the Boss wasn’t locked up when Jessamy was killed, she would have just come back here when she died. So now that the place is fixed up, she should get to come back.”

“Oh, Matthew, well done!”

Lord Morpheus, who had been speaking quietly to Jessamy, looked up, his eyes shining with tears. “Matthew, Jessamy says this was your doing?”

“It was Lady Death, Boss. And she says hi. But I made the suggestion.”

Lord Morpheus held out his hand to Matthew, who flew to it and was brought into an embrace along with Jessamy. He pressed his head against Lord Morpheus’s chest.

“Thank you, Matthew. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Boss.”

He felt a beak combing the feathers at his neck.

“If I had an eternity to choose, I could not find someone better suited for the job of Raven,” Jessamy said.

Matthew was grateful that he couldn’t blush. “Yeah, well, it’ll be nice to have another Raven around the place.”

#matthew the emotional support raven #jessamy the raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #mirokai writes #miro does sandman

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themirokai · 7 months

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It is with very mixed emotions that I present to you

Grave

The final story in the Matthew the Emotional Support Raven series.

Matthew visits his own grave and finds himself in need of some emotional support.

Thanks to @quillsorceress for giving this a read and @aquilathefighter and @kulapti for being my go-to bird experts and answering a totally necessary and vital question about raven anatomy.

Inspiration from this picture. If you follow me you've seen a bunch of @raven-photos 's raven photos under my corvid posting tag, but you should follow them too because they post tons of lovely stuff.

You can read the whole story below the cut or over on AO3. The AO3 version includes a mushy authors note about this being the end of the series, which I won't duplicate here, but I may put some additional thoughts in a reblog later.

~~~

Matthew felt the air pressure in the cemetery change. He hung his head with a sigh.

“Did you need something, Boss?”

“I need only to know that my Raven is well,” Lord Morpheus said from behind him.

“Yeah, you know me,” Matthew said. “Ball of corvid sunshine.”

“Matthew.”

“I haven’t even been gone that long,” Matthew groused.

No response to that. Matthew sighed again and looked around at the gray headstones and dewy grass, sparkling in the morning light.

“How did you find me? You’re not in my head.” He thought for a moment. “Lucienne ratted me out, didn’t she?”

“Lucienne informed me that you had asked for your book. She was concerned for your mental state.”

Matthew huffed. “Do dreams have ‘mental states’?”

“Yes,” Lord Morpheus said simply.

Matthew hung his head again and took a deep breath, then reflected that he wasn’t alive and probably didn’t need to breathe. Which was what had brought him to this cemetery in the first place. He gestured to the headstone in front of him with his wing. “Well, there it is. In all its glory. My grave.”

There was, in fact, no glory. It was a completely unremarkable gray headstone with a curved top. His name and the dates of his birth and death were carved on it, nothing else.

“Why have you come here, Matthew?” Lord Morpheus asked quietly.

“You don’t know? You can’t just read my mind?”

“Not while we are in the Waking.”

“Inconvenient,” Matthew muttered. He ground his beak. Matthew knew that none of this was the boss’s fault. He had made perfectly clear when Matthew first met him that he hadn’t been the one to turn Matthew into a Raven. Matthew shook his head. “I died a year ago.” He turned to face Lord Morpheus. The boss was standing ramrod straight, hands shoved into the pockets of a black pea coat.

“This is not the anniversary of your death, Matthew.”

Matthew flapped his wings. “I know that. I just… started thinking about it. And then I realized that for all the times I’ve come to the Waking, I never saw what my grave looked like.”

“Now you see it.”

“Yeah, and I’m dead in there!” He turned to stare at the ground in front of the headstone. “Like my body - my body that I had my whole life - is just down there. Dead and rotting.” He shivered. “It’s not like I ever took particularly good care of it, but it’s still weird! And that’s before you even get to the fact that I’m a fucking bird.”

“I thought you enjoyed being a Raven.”

“I do!” Matthew said quickly. “This isn’t about that. It’s just… look, one minute I’m an alive human and the next minute I’m a fucking bird and Lucienne is telling me to go follow you and then I’m trying to get you to not throw me out on my ear and then we’re dealing with Constantine and then we’re going to Hell and then you’re fighting the asshole who had your ruby and then I’m spying on Rose and then I’m running errands and delivering messages and meeting all sorts of weird people and- and beings and then…” Matthew breathed out in a rush. “I don’t know. I guess I never really stopped to think about the fact that I’m dead. Like really properly dead. With my body rotting in the ground.”

“Do you feel ‘really properly dead’?”

“No! I don’t feel properly anything! That’s the problem!”

Lord Morpheus kind of folded himself up so that he was sitting cross-legged on the ground, facing Matthew. “You were not expecting to die? When you were human.”

Matthew closed his eyes and shook his head. “I wasn’t that old. And I didn’t exactly have the greatest lifestyle… certainly not what would be considered ‘clean living’ by any stretch. I guess that’s why I had a heart attack… but no. I wasn’t sick or anything. I wasn’t expecting to die.”

Lord Morpheus nodded solemnly. “Most of my past Ravens had been ill or injured or old when they died. Their deaths were much less surprising than yours. And they joined me during… much less chaotic times, when I… shaped the process of them becoming dreams myself.”

Matthew snorted. “Yeah, I know. I’m the unwanted Raven. You don’t have to remind me.”

“You mistake me, Matthew.” Lord Morpheus frowned. “Deliberately, I think.”

“No, I just… you know what I mean.” Matthew looked away from him.

“As I stated,” Lord Morpheus said a bit huffily, “in the Waking I cannot see your thoughts.” They were both quiet for a moment before Lord Morpheus continued. “My intent in bringing up other Ravens was to comfort you with the notion that the… discomfort you are experiencing is understandable, since your transformation to Raven occurred under less than ideal circumstances.”

Matthew tipped his head to the side, looking up at him. “How did I become a Raven if you didn’t make me one?”

A tiny smile on Lord Morpheus’s lips. “Another indication of the frenetic pace of your first year is that we have never talked of this.” He shifted into what Matthew considered to be his ‘storyteller voice’. It was a little deeper, more hypnotic. “I confess that I do not know for sure, though I have my suspicions.”

Matthew would have liked to stay silent but felt an inexorable pressure to ask, “What suspicions?” Must have been the force of the narrative or something.

He was rewarded with another tiny smile.

“It is my suspicion that my sister, Death, selected you… for me.”

Matthew would have frowned if he had lips. “How were your other Ravens selected?”

“The souls of those who die in their sleep linger in the Dreaming until my sister collects them and passes them to whatever afterlife awaits them. When the time comes for me to select a new Raven, I select a soul that… feels right, and begin the transformation process.”

“What if the person doesn’t want to be a Raven?”

It was Lord Morpheus’s turn to frown. “Do you not wish to be a Raven, Matthew?”

Matthew clicked his tongue. “Now who’s mistaking who?”

Lord Morpheus inclined his head. “If the person does not wish to be a Raven, then it will not last. They will move on to whatever is next for them and I will select a new Raven.”

Matthew considered that, but quickly decided that he didn’t want to think too much about whatever was next. “So Death picked me.”

“Yes, I believe so. It is possible that once I had returned to the Dreaming it… automatically selected a random soul and performed the process without my guidance…”

Matthew knew there was more to that sentence. “But?”

Lord Morpheus looked at the headstone. “But. You are too well-chosen to have been a chance selection… and.”

“And?”

“Even if the pain of Jessamy’s murder had not convinced me that I did not want another Raven, I think it unlikely that I would have chosen you.”

Matthew glared at him. “I know that the next thing out of your mouth is going to make that a less shitty thing to hear.”

Lord Morpheus rolled his eyes. “You are well aware how this story ends, Matthew. I would not have chosen you but sometimes my sister knows me better than I know myself. She collected you when I was preoccupied with the Hecate and saw what I would not have seen: that you… were exactly who I needed as my Raven. And then I suspect that she gave the Dreaming a very strong suggestion to perform your transformation.”

Matthew had Death to thank for his current gig. Just add that to the pile of things he didn’t know how to feel about. But. There was the rest of what the boss had said.

Matthew dragged a talon through the grass. “So… you don’t wish you had a different Raven? Someone… I dunno. Dignified or clever or something.”

Lord Morpheus drew himself up and his eyes blackened from their normal Waking world blue to the night sky. “I am Dream of the Endless. I am older than this universe. I suspect I possess enough dignity for us both.”

Matthew was not entirely sure that age and dignity were that closely related but kept quiet as Lord Morpheus continued.

“As far as cleverness… you are perhaps not familiar with great works of poetry or philosophy, but I have never had a Raven who was more skilled at putting others at their ease, or soothing wounded feelings. Anything you lack in courtly manners is more than made up for in kindness and sincerity.” Lord Morpheus sighed and shook his head. “I would not have chosen you, Matthew, but I would have been a fool. You are exactly who I need as my Raven, especially after my imprisonment. My sister saw that, and I am immensely grateful to her.” He held out his hand. Matthew stepped on and was brought into his embrace. “I am sorry that your death was unexpected and jarring for you, Matthew. And I am sorry that the beginning of your tenure as my Raven has been so chaotic. But I cannot bring myself to be sorry that you died when you did, because that timing brought you to me.”

“Oh, Boss,” Matthew sighed.

“So yes, your human body is moldering in that grave. And yes, you are a ‘fucking bird’. But I very much hope that you will remain a ‘fucking bird’ for a very long time to come.”

Ravens, Matthew learned, were not capable of crying. He pressed his head against Lord Morpheus’s chest as Lord Morpheus began stroking his feathers. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

#We all understand that Dream is vastly overestimating his dignity right?#I have so many feelings about ending this series y'all #but it's time #and this is the right story to end on #I really really hope you like it #matthew the emotional support raven #the sandman #the sandman netflix #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #mirokai writes #miro does sandman

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themirokai · 1 year

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I saw this very cute raven video and it made me think Matthew the Emotional Support Raven thoughts. So please enjoy another 1200 words of fluffy Dream & Matthew ficlet. (My first one is over here.)

“Why is this dream so c-cold?” Matthew asked, hopping from foot to foot in the snow.

“It is meant for those who live in the coldest climes,” Lord Morpheus replied, looking around.

Matthew had to admit there was a lot to look at: a soaring snow-capped mountain range in the distance, a glittering frozen waterfall, the edge of a forest of beautiful pine trees. But he was starting to shiver. “D-don’t you th-think they m-might want to d-dream of somewhere warm?”

“That is not the purpose of this dream.” Lord Morpheus looked down at him. “Are you cold, Matthew?”

“J-just a b-bit.”

Lord Morpheus reached down his hand, palm up, in the gesture that invited Matthew to perch. With one flap of his wings Matthew gratefully flew onto Lord Morpheus’s hand and out of the snow. The Dream King lifted him up and placed him on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Boss.” The guy didn’t radiate warmth or anything, but it was much better than standing in the snow.

“You are welcome, Matthew.”

“So, uh, what are we doing here?”

“Wait,” Lord Morpheus said quietly, “and watch.”

Just then a dreamer stepped out of the woods and their jaw dropped at the vista in front of them. Matthew prided himself on the fact that he could tell dreamers from dreams in an instant now. When he first started this gig and was in a dream, it wasn’t always clear to him which of the cast of characters was the one having the dream. But now he’d been at it long enough that he could immediately sense who would be returning to the waking world.

The sun began to move. The sky remained bright blue all over, but the sun began drawing closer to the dreamer, staying the same size it had been, like you could cover it up with your thumb.

“There are places on this world, and others, where the sun is not seen for months at a time. I made this dream for the people living there,” Lord Morpheus said quietly.

The dreamer frowned at the approaching ball of light.

“Is this a dream or a nightmare?” Matthew asked in an undertone.

“A dream. Watch.”

Now hovering a foot away from the dreamer’s face, the sun seemed to give a soft, reassuring tone.

The dreamer frowned more deeply. The sun made another gentle sound, this one in the intonation of a question.

“What?” the dreamer said. “No, that’s weird! Go in the sky if you want to warm me.”

Lord Morpheus sighed and his shoulders drooped a little under Matthew’s feet. He gestured with two fingers and the dreamer became insubstantial and then disappeared.

“I - uh - take it that’s n-not what’s s-supposed to happen?” Matthew asked, ruffling his feathers against the cold.

“No. The sun is meant to enter the dreamer’s heart, to warm them and brighten their spirits through the days of darkness.”

“I c-could use an int-ternal sun right ab-about now,” Matthew said, shivering again.

Lord Morpheus turned to him. “You are still cold, Matthew.”

“S-sorry, B-boss. I d-don’t think-k ravens are m-made for this weather.”

“Hm.” Lord Morpheus held up his hand for Matthew to perch on and Matthew stepped on carefully.

With his other hand, Lord Morpheus made a pulling gesture and out of thin air produced a thick, red, woolen scarf. He quickly wound it around Matthew’s body. Matthew thought about mentioning that he wouldn’t be able to fly like this, but as soon as the scarf was in place, Lord Morpheus tucked him into the crook of his arm. Oh that was good. He already felt warmer.

“Better?” Lord Morpheus asked.

“Yeah, much.” Matthew quickly rubbed his beak against Lord Morpheus’s hand. “Thanks, Boss.”

“Good. Now, this failed dream.”

“Failed?” Matthew asked, looking around from his cozy perch. “It’s beautiful, Boss.”

“Yes, but its purpose is not beauty. At least not scenic beauty.” Lord Morpheus sighed. “None of the dreamers who have come here have accepted the gift of the sun. Be honest, Matthew, as a somewhat recent human, is it an unappealing or… a weird idea? Should I destroy this dream?”

“No!” Matthew squawked quickly. “Don’t destroy it! It’s a lovely idea.” He clicked his beak in thought. “I think people may be more skeptical… less trusting than they were 130 years ago.” Matthew stopped himself. Mentioning Lord Morpheus’s captivity was always touchy.

“Go on,” Lord Morpheus said quietly, “I believe you are correct.”

“Well, is there a way to show dreamers that this is really a good thing and not a trick or something that will hurt them?”

Matthew craned his neck to see Lord Morpheus’s face, and found him deep in thought. He took a deep breath and began to move the hand that was not holding Matthew.

Matthew narrowed his eyes as everything began to feel… nicer. The frozen waterfall seemed more glittery and there was a feeling pushing at his mind of safety and relaxation. Matthew frowned.

“Did you just… turn up the emotion on a landscape?”

“Dreamscape,” Lord Morpheus corrected, “and yes. You can feel it?”

“Yeah, it feels like it’s trying to invade my head.”

“That is because you are a creature of the Dreaming. It should feel natural to the dreamers.”

Matthew adjusted his position, which may have taken the form of snuggling into Lord Morpheus’s side a little closer. “So how long do we have to wait for another dreamer?”

“I can draw one in now,” Lord Morpheus said, gesturing again with his free hand.

Another dreamer stepped out of the forest and looked around in wonder, grinning broadly. This time when the sun began approaching them they gave a delighted gasp and when it stopped and gave its first hum, their eyes filled with happy tears. The dreamer reached out to the ball of the sun, then nodded enthusiastically as it asked its question.

Matthew watched as the dream sun traveled up the dreamer’s arm and then into their chest. The dreamer’s face was blissfully peaceful as they faded away back to the waking world.

Matthew couldn’t help a joyful caw. “You did it!”

Lord Morpheus’s smile was minuscule but Matthew could still tell that he was very pleased.

“I thank you for your assistance, Matthew,” he said, running his finger over Matthew’s beak.

“That’s what I’m here for!” Matthew replied cheerfully.

Lord Morpheus made a sweeping gesture and the space in front of them was suddenly the throne room. He stepped from snow onto stone and Matthew felt the temperature immediately rise.

He was quiet as Lord Morpheus began unwinding the scarf from around him. He wanted his wings free, of course he did, but… well it had been nice and cozy.

Matthew shook himself as the last length of scarf came away.

“Wait!” he cawed, seeing Lord Morpheus about to dismiss the dreamstuff that made up the scarf.

Lord Morpheus raised an eyebrow at him.

“Could I keep that?” Matthew pointed at the scarf with his beak.

Lord Morpheus regarded him with a curious expression and a subtle lift to one corner of his mouth. “If that is what you wish.”

“Yeah, uh, for the cave, you know. I think Eve might like it.”

Lord Morpheus smiled more broadly, then quickly schooled expression. “Certainly.” He folded the scarf over, making it much easier for Matthew to carry.

“Thanks, Boss.” Matthew took the scarf in his beak, bumped his head against Lord Morpheus’s hand, and took off.

Hey, did you like this? I had a lot of fun using a real raven for inspiration and I’d like to try something… if you send me a raven, I’ll write you a ficlet. Send me an ask or a DM with a picture or a video of a real raven and I’ll use it as inspiration for a little Matthew story. I’m excited to see what people come up with!

Update: the master post of my Matthew the Emotional Support Raven ficlets is here.

#mathew the emotional support raven #dream of the endless #lord morpheus #matthew the raven #the sandman #the sandman netflix #miro does sandman #mirokai writes #inspired by a video #send me a raven and I'll write you a ficlet #taking prompts #in a very limited fashion

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themirokai · 1 year

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This Matthew the Emotional Support Raven ficlet was inspired by a prompt from @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising which you can see below. Please give the original post some love as well.

Dream sat at a table in the library, slouching in the comfortable chair with his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He was reading a not-yet-written novel by a teenage girl in Denmark. It was quite good and he was considering what dreams he could send her that would inspire and motivate her to bring the book into being.

He was aware - as he was aware of so many things - when Matthew crossed from the waking world back into the Dreaming. He felt Matthew enter the library shortly thereafter, and then wingbeats were followed by a soft landing on the table. Dream did not look up from his book.

“Was it a dreamstone, Matthew?”

Something hard thunked on the table. That was unexpected, but still not enough to make Dream put the book down.

“No,” Matthew said, “not a dreamstone.”

Dream hummed and turned a page. “Very well. Thank you.”

He had read another two paragraphs before he realized that Matthew hadn’t left yet.

“That’s all for now, Matthew. You are free to go.” Again Dream turned his full attention back to the book.

Talons clicked closer to him on the wood and feathers rustled. The hard object was pushed along the table.

“Was there something else, Matthew?”

“Um yeah, actually.”

Dream read another sentence while he waited for Matthew to elaborate but when no further comment was forthcoming he finally put down his book to see Matthew directly on the other side.

Source

“Yes?”

“Um, I got this. For you.” Matthew ducked his head and pushed forward a large sapphire pendant. “I know you had to let your ruby be destroyed and this isn’t magical or anything, it’s just a rock but it’s a pretty rock and I dunno I thought you might like it.” He made a shrugging gesture with his wings, but the look on his face was distinctly hopeful.

“This is of the waking world,” Dream said. “How did you acquire it, Matthew?”

“Window was open in the fake-dreamstone-lady’s house.”

“You stole it?”

“Well,” Matthew shifted from foot to foot, “I mean, yes, technically, but she’s a bad person! She was taking money from people by convincing them that she had a dreamstone! Is it really stealing if it’s from a bad person?”

“Confidence artists have existed for nearly as long as humans have been telling stories,” Dream told him. “Their use of their own dreams and the dreams of their marks is fascinating.” He picked up the sapphire and held it up to the light as he spoke. It was lovely.

“Ok, but this con artist left her window open. Furthermore, I am a raven and it is shiny. Really any raven in the area could have done the exact same thing.”

Dream lowered the gem and studied his unconventional raven with a sigh, but couldn’t keep the smile from playing at the corner of his mouth.

Matthew shifted uncomfortably. “Look, if you want I can take it back I guess.”

“No,” Dream said, looking down at the gem again, “I accept the gift in the spirit in which it is given.”

Matthew’s expression brightened. “Really? You like it?”

“I do. It is beautiful, Matthew. Thank you.”

Dream pulled the chain over his head and the sapphire sat in the center of his chest.

“You’re welcome!” Matthew fluffed his feathers proudly.

Dream sat back in his chair and reached for the book. “I am going to be reading for a while longer,” he looked away from Matthew so as not to convey any preference, “you may stay if you wish.”

“Yeah, I guess if you don’t mind some company.” Matthew took a tentative step closer.

Dream felt himself smile and reached a hand toward the raven. Matthew stepped on and Dream brought him to his lap, where Matthew quickly settled.

“Is this ok?” Matthew asked.

Dream found his page in the book and began stroking the feathers of Matthew’s back with his free hand. “Yes, Matthew. This is okay.”

It was, Dream idly mused, far more than that.

UPDATE: There is now art of this story by the fantastic @wyvernquill! Check it out and give it some love!

I previously asked for prompts of real ravens and I have one still waiting to be written. Work has been kind of brutal lately so it may take me some time to get to, but if you send me a picture or a video of a real raven, I will (when real life permits) write you a ficlet inspired by it!

Master post of my Matthew the Emotional Support Raven ficlets

#Matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #ravens and dream lords both like shiny things #inspired by a picture #the sandman netflix #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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themirokai · 4 days

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Never say never on returning to wips you love.

In late 2020 and through 2021, I was writing a Mystrade series called His Professional Capacity in which Mycroft is a spymaster. I had the first chapter of a sixth (and probably final) story for the series written, but I never quite figured out where to take it and I moved on to other fandoms.

Now, three years later, I’ve written a five chapter story that nearly doubles the length of the series. It’s getting proofread and beta’d now, but I hope to start posting it soon. Because the vast majority of you followed me after 2021, and I want to entice as many people to read this as possible, I’m going to start posting the stories in the series here. First up:

What He Does

Greg encounters Mycroft's security detail and comes to understand the reasons for it.

~ 2,601 words. I've tweaked some minor things from the AO3 version, which was not Britpicked, but kept the rather American conception of when someone might be carrying a gun, since it's integral to the plot. Please enjoy despite inaccuracies.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Greg pondered whether he should take Mycroft’s arm. Or his hand. Or offer Mycroft his arm. Or put his hand on Mycroft’s back. This whole “dating” thing was confusing. Greg hadn’t dated for decades, and back then it had been women. Not a mature, somewhat intimidating, incredibly posh, devastatingly gorgeous man. He wasn’t quite sure how to act.

Greg would admit that dinner had been a success. The conversation was comfortable, interesting, and somewhat flirty, just as it had been for their previous two dates. And the several meals and drinks they’d shared before that - before Greg had gotten up the nerve to ask Mycroft on a real date. They had chemistry. That was certain. And when the meal ended and Mycroft had suggested they go for a walk to enjoy the fresh fall air, Greg had jumped at the chance to keep the date from ending.

He pondered the possibility of a good night kiss, but wasn’t sure if that should come before or after holding hands or linking arms on a walk. What were the procedures for physical contact with a man who made your stomach do somersaults every time you thought about him? How were those procedures different when the man in question held a highly secretive and incredibly powerful government position? Were they different? Greg settled for moving a little closer to Mycroft as they walked along, allowing the sleeves of their coats to brush against each other.

Mycroft finished the anecdote he was telling about Sherlock as a child, and Greg turned to smile up at him. As he did, movement caught the corner of his eye and Greg glanced behind them. There was a man walking half a block behind them. Greg frowned.

“Shall we take this left?” he asked Mycroft.

“If you like,” Mycroft responded with a soft smile.

They turned and Greg waited about half a block before glancing back. The man behind them made the turn as well. Greg risked a slightly longer look this time and realized with alarm that he recognized the man from the restaurant. His mind immediately ran through possibilities. Mugger. Someone after Greg because of a case he’d worked or was currently working. Someone after Mycroft for whatever shadowy reason. Someone after either or both of them as a way of getting to Sherlock.

“Gregory? Is something wrong?”

No sense in worrying him. Greg could handle this. “No, uh, no. Let’s just - do you mind if we turn down this alley for a moment?”

Now Greg did take Mycroft’s elbow to guide him into the small alley, mentally kicking himself that the first time he touched the man was out of fear and necessity.

“Gregory, what-”

“Please, just stay here a moment and keep quiet, I’m sure it’s nothing, I’ll handle it.”

“Gregory!”

But Greg was not listening, he could hear the man’s footsteps speeding up and getting nearer, and drew his gun. From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Mycroft reaching for him, but he was already committed to whirling around the corner and slamming the oncoming man against the wall, holding him with an arm across his chest and leveling the gun to his cheek. “That’s far enough, mate. Who are you and why are you following us?”

The man slowly raised his hands, but a female voice suddenly cut in. “Drop the gun! Now!”

Greg did not drop the gun, but turned to look down the barrel of another weapon held by a well-dressed woman who Greg was also fairly sure he had seen at the restaurant. Before Greg had a chance to respond, Mycroft stepped out of the alley.

“Stand down, Ms. Bell.” Mycroft sounded tired.

“Sir, please stay back!” the woman responded.

“Ms. Bell, Inspector Lestrade is not a threat.”

“Respectfully, sir, then why is he hustling you into an alley and drawing a gun on your security?” Ms. Bell kept her own gun trained on Greg, who was frozen.

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because he did not know that I have security and thought Mr. Spooner was following us with malicious intentions.” Mycroft squared his shoulders, and put the tone of command into his voice. “Stand down, Ms. Bell. That is an order.” The woman grimaced and holstered her weapon. “Gregory, kindly unhand Mr. Spooner.”

Greg stepped back, but was not quite able to pick his jaw up off the floor. “They work for you?”

“Indeed,” Mycroft said, as Mr. Spooner, with a face like a thundercloud, started brushing off his clothing. “Mr. Spooner and Ms. Bell are … associates of mine and - for the time being at least - they have been charged with ensuring my safety.”

Greg holstered his gun. “Do you always have security?”

“Yes,” Mycroft said simply.

“So the other times we’ve been out together?”

“They were there and you did not notice them. Which is how it should be,” Mycroft lowered a meaningful look at Spooner, who squirmed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Greg asked, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he was apparently trying to date someone who merited two armed guards at all times.

Mycroft sighed. “In retrospect, that was clearly a mistake. I-” he paused, looking at the three of them, then shook his head. “The bar in the hotel across the way is nice and quiet. May I buy you a drink, Gregory? I’m afraid the walk has been a bit ruined.”

“Sure… yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Fifteen minutes later they were ensconced in a booth at a swanky hotel bar. Greg had a single malt Scotch, and Mycroft was twisting the stem of a glass of red wine in his long fingers. Beautiful fingers, Greg thought. Spooner and Bell had taken a table on the other side of the bar where they were too far to hear the conversation, but had clear sight lines to Mycroft.

“So how long have those two been your bodyguards?” Greg asked, nodding at Spooner and Bell.

“They’ve only been on this rotation for about a week. They’ll spend a month with me, before moving on to another assignment and being replaced by another two. And I wouldn’t call them bodyguards. They are field agents.”

“Ms. Bell sure seems like a bodyguard.” Greg took a swig of his drink.

“Ms. Bell knows that she will be held partially accountable for Mr. Spooner’s carelessness. This assignment is meant to give a more experienced agent - in this case, Ms. Bell - an opportunity to train a less experienced agent - Mr. Spooner - in the field. It also allows me to observe agents in the field to get a feel for their strengths and weaknesses. I’m afraid tonight revealed some weaknesses.” Mycroft sipped his wine.

“It’s not their fault you decided to go out with a cop,” Greg grinned.

“Yes, but-” Mycroft stopped himself and smiled. “Yes, you’re right.”

Greg narrowed his eyes. “You expect them to be better than me. It’s alright, you can say it.”

Mycroft considered Greg for a moment before responding. “I expect them to be able to follow their mark unnoticed, even if their mark is accompanied by a particularly intelligent and observant detective.”

“Fair enough, and I’ll take the compliment,” Greg chuckled. “So is that the only reason you have security? For training and observation?”

Mycroft twirled his wine glass in his fingers again before responding. “Gregory… I have enjoyed our time together, and if you are willing I would like to continue to see you.”

Greg grinned. “More than willing.”

Mycroft smiled. “Thank you. There are many things I am unable to talk about with you, for your safety, and mine, and that of others. And even with this I must tread a bit lightly, but … I would like you to go into,” he gestured vaguely between the two of them, “this, with your eyes open.”

“I’m listening.” Greg sat a little straighter.

“The work I do, the work I have done in the past, has risks. I… have enemies. Enemies who would prefer that I were no longer operating. While I am generally able to take care of myself, I am not as young as I was and there have been … close calls, as it were. And so now my security detail is part of the field agents’ rotation.”

“How close were the close calls?”

“Too close.”

“How too close?”

“A few centimeters from a major artery, too close.”

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

They both sipped their drinks. “Well then I’m glad Ms. Bell pulled her gun on me. She was probably right to,” Greg said after a minute. “Don’t be too hard on her tomorrow.”

Mycroft smiled and hesitantly reached across the table to touch Greg’s hand. Greg immediately took the opportunity to grab hold of the long, slender fingers. “You don’t… mind? That I live a life that requires that I am under surveillance?”

“I mean you have some privacy, don’t you?”

“Yes!” A blush was climbing up Mycroft’s cheeks. “Yes, of course! I - um - they - well, I mean-“

The sight of Mycroft Holmes stuttering like a schoolboy melted the last of Greg’s discomfort and he grinned, then squeezed Mycroft’s hand. “Can I safely assume that if I go to kiss you when we leave here that I won’t end up looking down the barrel of Ms. Bell’s gun again?”

Mycroft gaped at him momentarily before recovering. “No - um - no, that would be fine.”

“Just fine?” Greg cocked an eyebrow, leaning in to the newfound confidence.

A slow smile played over Mycroft’s features. “More than fine. Welcome.”

Greg settled back into his seat with a grin. There was one thing sorted.

Greg squinted across the restaurant. “Is Bell wearing a wig?”

Mycroft took a sip of his drink. “Gregory, kindly do not peer at her. She is more effective if it is not clear that there’s a connection between her and I.”

Greg turned his eyes front, but not before he saw Bell glower at him. “Sorry,” he grinned at Mycroft. “Is it a wig though? It’s awful. Don’t you all train in costuming or something?”

Mycroft coughed and wiped his mouth carefully with his napkin, avoiding Greg’s eyes. “I believe she dyed her hair.”

Greg’s jaw dropped. “No. Mycroft, no. Not that colour.” Mycroft cut another bite of his meal without looking up. “Did she do it because of me?” Greg asked, astonished. When Mycroft neither confirmed nor denied, Greg clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“You’ve been… a little too good at spotting her,” Mycroft said after a minute. “But her new assignment starts in a few days. I believe the change in hair colour is more related to that.”

“There is no way that shade is good for any kind of undercover work, darling, you’ve got to get her to change it. It looks like it doesn’t know whether it’s red or purple.”

Mycroft started a bit at the pet name, and watched carefully as Greg applied himself to his meal. After a moment, he relaxed with a smile. “I’ll speak to her.”

“Mycroft.”

“Mm?”

“The chap on the bicycle.”

“What about him?”

“Is he your new security?”

A heavy sigh, then, “Kindly leave your gun holstered, Gregory.”

About a month, a number of dates, and many quite pleasant kisses after their first, Greg and Mycroft lay naked in Mycroft’s bed following their first time having sex. Greg was gently tracing his fingers over one of the several scars that broke the plane of Mycroft’s pale skin. He had seen the scars when he had undressed Mycroft - a lengthier affair than he was used to, with far more buttons - but had been preoccupied at the time. Now he took his time to study them.

“More of these than I was expecting,” Greg said, tracing what he suspected was the remnant of a knife wound to Mycroft’s side.

Mycroft started moving away from him. “I’m sorry. If it bothers you I can-” He was stopped as Greg wrapped an arm around his waist.

Greg pulled Mycroft close. “Don’t be daft. You’re beautiful and I want to see all of you. It’s not like I like the idea of you being stabbed,” he touched the knife scar, “or shot,” his fingers found the scar from a bullet wound on Mycroft’s shoulder, “or shot again,” the scar on Mycroft’s left thigh, “or burned,” the matching marks on the forearms, “or … what is this?” Greg fingered the vaguely triangular scar just above Mycroft’s right hip.

“Stabbed, I suppose you could say,” Mycroft replied quietly. “It was an ice pick.”

“An… ice pick.”

“Indeed. The result of an error in judgment of a much younger man.”

“Just to be clear, you were the younger man with poor judgment, right? There’s not some young tosser running about who caused you to get ice picked?”

“That’s correct. I read a situation erroneously and suffered the consequences.”

“With an ice pick.”

“Just so.”

“Any chance I could get more of the story behind that?”

Mycroft considered for a moment. “If two governments were to permanently fall… no, even then it wouldn’t be unclassified in either of our lifetimes.”

Greg leaned up to kiss Mycroft’s chin. “You’re fascinating. Does anyone actually believe you work for the Department for Transport?”

Mycroft chuckled. “Yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade. People from whom I have not had to take away investigations, and who have not had to deal with my brother, and who have not seen me in a state of undress - essentially everyone in the world who is not you or who has not otherwise encountered me in my professional capacity - generally believe that I am a minor government official.”

Greg planted a kiss on his chest. “People are daft, then. You dress too well to be a minor anything.”

Mycroft’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Thank you. I think.”

“Anyway,” Greg picked up his prior thought. “I don’t like the idea of you being hurt. I hate it in fact. But the scars are part of you. And I like you. I like all of you. Very much.”

Mycroft drew Greg up so that they were face to face and kissed him deeply. “I also like you very much, Gregory,” he breathed when they finally broke apart.

Greg pulled himself tight against Mycroft’s side and rested his head on the other man’s chest. The angle put the bullet wound on Mycroft’s thigh in his line of sight. “This is the newest one,” he murmured, touching it gently.

“Very astute, Gregory.”

“Not a youthful error of judgment, then?”

“No. That one is the reason I have a security detail.”

Greg covered it with his palm. “A few centimeters from your femoral artery.”

“Mm,” Mycroft acknowledged. “The circumstances were such that if my assailant’s shot had been better - or worse, I suppose, given your perspective - I likely would have bled out before assistance could reach me.” Greg hugged him a little tighter. “That caused my superiors to insist that I be under guard,” Mycroft finished.

Greg frowned. “You have superiors?”

“One or two. It’s a bit … complicated.”

Greg huffed. “I bet it is.” He planted a kiss on Mycroft’s chest. “You’ve certainly led an interesting life.”

“I believe the corollary to the traditional curse is ‘may you live an interesting life.’”

“Do you feel cursed?” Greg asked, craning his neck to see Mycroft’s face.

“On the contrary,” Mycroft smiled, “the fact that in spite of all this, or perhaps as a result of all this, I have ended up here, with you, has me feeling incredibly fortunate at the moment.”

“Me too,” Greg grinned.

~*~

Thanks for reading! The next story is now up over here.

#mystrade #his professional capacity #<- will use that tag for this series #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #mirokai writes #mycroft x greg #mycroft holmes x greg lestrade #bbc sherlock

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themirokai · 1 year

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More Matthew the Emotional Support Raven? Don’t mind if I do! @mashumaru sent me this cute raven video, for which I am very grateful. She had tagged it Hob & Matthew (which totally tracks) but wanted to know if I could do a Dream & Matthew story with it. And I did! But it got a teensy tinsy bit angsty. Don’t worry, it ends as fluffy as the rest of these ficlets.

There is one small detail from my “Shiny Things” ficlet in here. That one isn’t required reading but I do hope you’ll check it out if you haven’t already.

Huge thanks to the wonderful @argylepiratewd who has proofreading commissions open now! WD made this story so much better and they can do the same for your work. I highly recommend them for all your proofreading needs. Info here, check it out!

Matthew hopped along beside Lord Morpheus as he strode through the Palace of the Dreaming.

“So, we’re leaving now?”

“We are not going anywhere, Matthew,” Lord Morpheus said from under his helm. “You are to remain in the Dreaming.”

“What?!” Matthew stopped, then had to fly a few feet to catch up. “If you’re not staying in the Dreaming, then I’m not staying in the Dreaming.”

“I frequently travel to the waking world without you.”

“Yeah, to see your boyfriend, who I still haven’t met! And I know you’re not going for a hanky-panky session because you’re all suited up!”

Lord Morpheus halted in his tracks and turned slowly to face Matthew. “A ‘hanky-panky session’?”

Matthew was not about to let himself be sidetracked. “A date! A romantic tryst! Whatever! You’re not doing that because you’ve got all the finery and the spine mask!” He gestured with his wing to encompass the flowing black robe, the folds of which seemed structurally impossible. He noted with a little flare of pride that Lord Morpheus was wearing the sapphire Matthew had given him.

Lord Morpheus sighed and went down on one knee, just as he had the first night Matthew had met him. He reached up to remove the helm and tucked it under his arm.

“I am going to Faerie, Matthew. I do not need you to accompany me, nor do I wish it.”

Matthew shifted from foot to foot and dropped his head, looking up at Lord Morpheus out of the corner of his eye. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Lord Morpheus chuckled and ran a finger over Matthew’s beak. “You have done nothing wrong. It is simply that this journey would not be safe for you.”

“If it’s not safe, then all the more reason for me to come with you!” Matthew exploded with an unintentional flap of his wings.

“Matthew—”

“Boss, I’ve been with you to literal Hell for you to fight literal Lucifer!”

“Yes,” Lord Morpheus said, with a small smile as he stroked Matthew’s beak again, “but when we went to Hell I was not at my full strength, and there was much more jeopardy to me than there was to you.”

Matthew cocked his head. “Why would I be in jeopardy? Do faeries hate birds or something?”

“The Faerie Court functions on a set of incredibly strict rules, Matthew. Failure to follow the rules to the exact letter can result in one’s bound servitude, imprisonment, or death.”

Matthew involuntarily ruffled his feathers.

“And you, my raven,” Lord Morpheus continued with a gentle tap to Matthew’s beak, “have many strengths, but adherence to rules is not among them.”

“But—”

Lord Morpheus stood and put the helm back on. “I shall return in a few days, Matthew. You will help Lucienne keep an eye on things in the Dreaming for me while I am away.” He reached inside his robe for a handful of sand.

Matthew couldn’t just let him go—not if he was only going alone because he thought Matthew couldn’t behave himself. With a flap of his wings, and before he could second guess himself, Matthew leapt and attached his beak to the index finger of Lord Morpheus’s free hand. He gripped hard enough to hang from the finger, but not hard enough to hurt. He hoped. He wasn’t even sure if Lord Morpheus could be hurt in the Dreaming.

Slowly, Lord Morpheus raised his hand to bring the dangling Matthew up to his eye level.

“You realize that you are rather spectacularly proving my point, Matthew?”

“I hro’is I ‘e ‘oo’,” Matthew tried to pronounce around the finger.

Lord Morpheus brought his other hand up and wrapped it around Matthew’s body, pinning his wings in place. He gave a firm tug, and Matthew released his finger.

“Boss, I promise I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll follow the rules! Please, just don’t go alone.”

Lord Morpheus took a breath, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. “Matthew,” he said, voice reverberating more than usual, “I realize that when you first met me I was in an extremely vulnerable position. But I would remind you that I am older than the stars in the sky and infinitely more powerful. Such vulnerability was an aberration that shall not happen again. This means that if I tell you that I require that you stay in the Dreaming, then you shall stay in the Dreaming. Am I understood?”

Matthew bowed his head, worry and guilt twisting his guts. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I overstepped.”

Lord Morpheus stooped to put him down and drew a handful of sand from inside his robe as he straightened. “I shall return in a few days’ time.”

With that, the sand swirled around him, and he was gone.

“Lucienne, when you were a raven, did you ever go to Faerie with Lord Morpheus?”

“Hm. Yes, a few times, I think.” She continued arranging books on shelves without looking at him.

“And perfect Jessamy? She must have gone a bunch.”

“Yes, of course. Why are you—oh.” Lucienne turned to him. “He didn’t take you.”

“And he was being nice about it and then I was an idiot and grabbed onto his finger as he was leaving like a—like a—god, I don’t know. Like a fucking toddler or something!” Matthew felt his wings open in his agitation. “And he got pissed because anyone would but it’s him. I am such a fucking idiot.”

Matthew threw himself down on the floor on his side and Lucienne crouched beside him.

“How did you grab his finger?” she asked.

“In my beak.” Matthew brought a wing up to cover his face. “Like a fucking idiot.”

He heard a strangled sound and moved his wing to see Lucienne trying to stifle her laughter.

“It’s not funny! He’s going to unmake me!”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Matthew,” she said, kindly.

“It was so bad. Lucienne, I’m a failure as a raven. Just like I was a failure as a person.”

“Enough of that,” she said, standing. “Come on, get off the floor.”

Matthew groaned and covered his face with his wing again. “Maybe I can just sink into the wood and become part of the library.”

“Matthew,” Lucienne said sternly, “get up. Now.”

With an aggrieved sigh, Matthew hauled himself to his feet. She patted the back of a chair beside her, and with another sigh, Matthew flew up to it, so that he was nearly level with her eyes.

“You are not a failure as a raven,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. “You are a modern raven, and you are the raven he needs now.”

“But he can’t even take me out of the realm because I’d apparently be a danger to myself!”

“He can’t take you to Faerie, but truly, he doesn’t need you there. He was concerned about your ability to adhere to all the rules, correct?” On Matthew’s nod, she continued. “Do you know who is better than anyone in this or any other universe at following rules?”

“Lord Morpheus,” Matthew muttered.

“That’s correct. He has had good relations with the King and Queen of Faerie for millennia. He really is not in any danger on this trip.”

Matthew searched her face for sincerity and found it. If Lucienne wasn’t worried, he knew he didn’t need to be. Matthew took a deep breath and nodded.

“Matthew, Lord Morpheus does not need a raven who can follow the strictures of Faerie at this point in his immensely long life. He needs a raven who can help him understand modern humanity. He was disconnected from the collective unconscious for over a century. He is out of touch, and he knows it. He’s gotten better in the time he’s been back, but he still needs assistance. He still needs you.”

“As long as he doesn’t unmake me for biting him,” Matthew grumbled.

Lucienne rolled her eyes. “You didn’t bite him,” she admonished. “You tried to hold on to him. It was certainly foolish, but Lord Morpheus has spent enough millennia in the company of ravens to see the difference clearly.”

Some of the worry began to fade from Matthew’s chest.

“He knows you love him, Matthew. And he cares for you, too.”

Matthew gave a long exhale and thought of hours spent getting his feathers stroked. “Yeah…yeah, I guess.”

Matthew was flying laps around the outside of the palace when his ears popped with a change in the barometric pressure. Lord Morpheus had returned to the Dreaming. The gravitational pull was immediate, but Matthew stopped himself from following it. He knew what Lucienne had said, but he still wasn’t sure what kind of reception he would get. Before he could dwell on the subject, an unmistakable voice sounded in his head.

“Matthew. Attend me.”

At least that was one decision he didn’t have to make. Matthew wheeled in the air, and rode the current of the Dreaming to Lord Morpheus.

He found the King of Dreams seated on his throne. Matthew landed a few steps down from the top of the dais. He spread his wings and bowed.

“My lord.”

“That has never been necessary, Matthew, nor is it now.”

Matthew ducked his head. “Thank you.” He took a breath and looked up. “I’m really sorry. About before you left. I was way out of line. I get that, and I want you to know it won’t happen again.”

“I know that, Matthew. Jessamy was my raven for hundreds of years, as was Lucienne. You and I are still learning each other.”

Lord Morpheus extended his hand, inviting Matthew to perch.

“Come, Matthew.”

Matthew landed with a few wing flaps. From his other hand, Lord Morpheus produced a loop of silver chain, about the size of a bracelet. The chain was intricately braided and sparkled in the shifting light of the throne room.

“It’s beautiful,” Matthew breathed.

“I traded a dream for it in Faerie. It is for you.” Lord Morpheus slipped the chain over Matthew’s head so that it sat around his neck.

“Oh, Boss, thank you! I love it!”

“It should be small enough to hide under your feathers when you are in the waking world.”

“Or I could make all the lady ravens swoon!” Matthew said, tilting his head to admire the silver against the black feathers of his chest.

Lord Morpheus chuckled as he stood. “Come, Matthew,” he said, transferring the raven to his shoulder, “we have work to do.”

“Yes, Boss!” Matthew cawed happily.

~~~~

UPDATE: This story has art now!

The detail of Morpheus bringing Matthew a gift came from @wyvernquill 's tags on this awesome art they did of the “Shiny Things” Emotional Support Raven ficlet.

Master Post of Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Ficlets.

As of posting, I am out of raven prompts. Have you seen a picture or a video of a raven? If you send it to me, I will use it to write a ficlet!

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #lucienne #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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themirokai · 10 months

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Hey there Emotional Support Raven fans. It's been a while without Matthew content from me. But after a big ol' writing slump, I'm back! This started as a quickie ficlet to break my creative log jam, and while it's still pretty short (~1,400 words) and pretty silly and pretty rough around the edges (no beta!) I'm actually kind of fond of it and I hope you enjoy it.

Inspiration included a post I can no longer find about birds with leg bands being more successful at reproduction, this post about magpies, @mashumaru's love of hooded crows, and her help on this post and subsequent patience with my inane questions via DM. Thanks, friend!

Not much Dream in this one, it's more of a Matthew adventure. I hope you enjoy!

The thing was, the crow looked really sad and for better or for worse, Matthew had a tender heart.

“Matthew,” Lord Morpheus had said to him, “a pod of undinės wishes to give me a gift in celebration of the summer solstice.”

“Do I want to know what a ‘pod of undinės’ is?”

“A group of rusalka.” Lord Morpheus had blinked. “Mermaids. More or less.”

Mermaids. Sure. It was far from the weirdest thing Matthew had seen since becoming the Raven of the Dreaming.

“While I am grateful to them,” Lord Morpheus had continued, “I cannot leave the Dreaming on the night the gift must be bestowed. You will go to the waking world and convey my heartfelt thanks, as well as my apologies for not being able to attend myself, and you will receive the gift on my behalf then return with it.”

“Convey thanks, give apologies, get gift, come back. Got it, Boss.”

Which was how Matthew had found himself alighting on the shore of a large lake in Lithuania to the sound of ethereal singing. The undinės were jaw-droppingly beautiful, and completely naked except where they were artfully covered by their long, flowing hair. Matthew noted with a flick of interest that the sight didn’t seem to have the same effect on him as he suspected it would have, were he still human. What did get him excited was one of the undinės presenting him with a very shiny blue shell, and telling him that it was just for him to keep. Matthew gratefully clutched it in one of his claws.

When it was his turn to talk, Matthew was quite proud of himself for listing at least five of the Boss’s titles in his introduction, and the undinės seemed perfectly satisfied with his thanks and his apology. One of them brought forward a glowing pink flower with a blossom nearly half the size of Matthew’s body. Each petal was shaped like a small fern and was an ombre of blush pink near the center to fuschia at the tips. She explained that it was a fern flower: a symbol of fertility that can only be harvested during the summer solstice. The undinės wished to present it to the Shaper of Forms in celebration of the fact that his kingdom was once again fertile ground for dreams.

Matthew gently took the stalk in his beak, gave a low bow to the undinės, and took off.

He had been about to fly up into the Dreaming when he saw the hooded crow hunched miserably at the base of a tree. Matthew knew this was not his problem. Knew that he had more than enough to deal with in the Dreaming without involving himself in the issues of waking world birds. But, well, there was nothing for it. He was a softy. The flower was glowing just as gamely as when it was handed to him: it seemed like it would keep.

Matthew swooped down to land in front of the crow, and gently put the fern flower down so he could speak.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

The crow blinked at him. “Are you real?”

Matthew shrugged his wings. He was used to this reaction from other birds. “I’m a dream, but I’m a real dream. I’m really here and I’m really talking to you, and I didn’t come from your imagination.”

“Oh.” The crow blinked at the fern flower. “What’s that? It’s shiny.”

“Magical solstice flower that some mermaids wanted to gift to my boss. King of Dreams. Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? You just looked… really not okay.”

The crow studied the fern flower for another moment then looked back at Matthew and heaved a sigh, letting his head droop further. “I’m hideous.”

Matthew cocked his head to the side. The crow… looked like a normal hooded crow: black head, wings, and tail, gray body. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Um.”

The crow held out his leg. Secured around his ankle was a tiny box on a black band.

“Oh!” Matthew gasped. “Did humans put that on you?”

The crow nodded.

“Does it hurt? Did they hurt you when they put it on?” Matthew felt anger bubbling in his chest.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” the crow sighed.

Oh. Matthew took a breath. “Is it uncomfortable at all?”

The crow shook his head. “I mostly don’t feel it.”

“Does it make it harder to fly or walk?”

The crow gave another mournful sigh. “No.”

Matthew blinked. “Sooo, what’s the problem?”

“It’s ugly!” the crow cried. “Garagalar has been getting all the girls! The humans gave him a green band! Everyone just loves Garagalar’s green band! It’s so pretty! It’s so shiny! And - and this one just looks like - like a blah! Like I have an ugly, bumpy leg!”

Matthew - somehow - managed to swallow down his laughter before it emerged. “Let me guess, Garagalar is being a real dick about it too.”

“If he strutted any harder he’d dislocate a hip,” the crow grumbled, drawing a claw through the dirt.

Matthew did let himself chuckle at that. “Well, I’m not sure I can do anything about Garagalar and his strutting, but I can probably help you get that thing off.”

The crow perked up. “Really?”

“Sure thing. Happy to help.” Matthew let go of the blue shell he had been grasping in his claw and stepped gingerly over the fern flower to get closer. “Let’s see it.”

The crow held out his foot and Matthew inspected the plastic band.

“What’s your name, anyway, pal?”

“Cartagrawk. What’s yours?”

“I’m Matthew. Nice to meet you Cartagrawk.”

“Matthew? That’s a weird name.”

“Yeah,” Matthew agreed, “it’s a long story. Now, I think I can probably just bite this thing. My beak’s pretty strong.”

It took some maneuvering so that Matthew could bite the plastic without hurting Cartagrawk’s leg, and even then he wasn’t able to bite right through, but after a few minutes he was able to put a crack in the plastic and loosen it enough that Cartagrawk could work his foot out of the loop.

“Caw! Thank you!” Cartagrawk gave an excited flap of his wings.

Matthew fluffed up his neck feathers with pride. “You’re welcome.”

Cartagrawk looked out into the forest. “Garagalar will probably still get all the girls with that stupid green band of his. But at least I’ve got more of a chance this way.”

Matthew cocked his head. “Maybe we can give you an even better chance…” he looked down at the fern flower still glowing on the ground. “This thing has something to do with fertility…” Matthew picked up the flower in his beak and gave it a gentle shake over Cartagrawk’s head and back.

Cartagrawk shook his feathers and drew himself up taller. Maybe it was a trick of the light but it did seem like his feathers had more of a shine to them.

Matthew put down the flower and pushed the shiny blue shell closer to Cartagrawk. “Save that for someone special,” Matthew told him.

Cartagrawk’s beak fell open. “Really? You’re giving that to me? It’s beautiful!”

Matthew nodded. “Yeah, I don’t need it. And you have some serious wooing to do.”

“Wow! Thank you! How can I ever repay you?”

“Eh, ya know, pay it forward. Help out someone in need down the line. And don’t let Garagalar throw you off your game.”

“I will! I mean - I won’t! I mean - I will and I won’t!” Cartagrawk was hopping with excitement.

If he had still been human, Matthew would have grinned. “Nice to meet you, Cartagrawk. Good luck out there.”

Matthew gently picked up the fern flower and leapt into the air.

“I hope,” Lord Morpheus said as he took the fern flower from Matthew’s beak, “that you will not make a habit of using unfamiliar magical objects for your own devices, Matthew.”

Matthew could tell he wasn’t mad, not really. He resettled his wings. “There’s no devices, Boss. Just helping out a fellow corvid. One who got screwed by some humans.”

“Be that as it may, had this been something more powerful or nefarious things could have gone badly both for you and the crow.”

“Well,” Matthew said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I figured you wouldn’t have sent me by myself to carry the flower home in my beak if it was dangerous.”

“Hm.” Lord Morpheus pulled a glass bell jar out of thin air and placed the fern flower inside. “Your reasoning is not unsound. And the act was kindly done. Come.” He extended his hand and Matthew hopped on to be transferred to Lord Morpheus’s shoulder. “I believe Lucienne and Jessamy would enjoy seeing this.”

Together, they set out for the Library.

------

I hope any bird experts will excuse inaccuracies in hooded crow behavior and bird banding technology. Thanks for reading!

If you're new to the series (or if you're not) you can find my master post of all the Emotional Support Raven stories and fan art here.

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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themirokai · 1 year

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Hob turned at a landing and his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen this room, of course, but he knew it in an instant. Stone columns, a water-filled moat, and suspended from chains in the middle: a cage of iron-bound glass. Dream was lying in the bottom of the sphere, naked.

After Dream gets stuck in a nightmare of the Fawney Rig basement, Hob and Matthew help him get back to himself.

Seven - A Dreamling & Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Fic by MiroKai

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or below the cut.

This story is a sequel to Loverboy, and while that isn't required reading, it does set up the relationships between Dream, Matthew, and Hob that I've delved into here.

Back in December I raffled off a ficlet in order to get to know new followers, and @icurlybooks was the winner! She asked for a fishbowl rescue fic, and while I didn't have any good ideas for a straight up fishbowl rescue, I was super inspired by Chapter 11 @ibrithir-was-here's Endless Heirs AU which everyone should go read right now. And instead of a ficlet I ended up with over 7k words and 3 chapters! The other two chapters will go up over the next week or so. Enjoy!

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It was getting dark, but Hob wasn’t worried. He continued along the path, using Dream’s pull to find his way through the Dreaming. Dream was probably just dealing with a nightmare, he assured himself.

“CAW!”

There was a flapping in the gloom around Hob’s feet.

“Matthew?!”

“What the fuck, loverboy? You almost stepped on me!”

“Sorry! What are you doing just standing around in the dark?”

Matthew didn’t speak for a moment and Hob squinted to try to see him in the darkness.

“You can feel him, right?” Matthew’s voice was quiet.

“Yeah. He’s nearby. That way.” Hob pointed ahead into the murk.

“Right,” Matthew said. “But I can’t get to him. It’s like… he’s locked me out but without a door. See if you can keep going.”

Hob took a step forward and then another. As he passed Matthew he began to feel resistance, like something was pushing him back. Hob pushed harder and advanced.

“There’s definitely a barrier,” he told Matthew, “but I think I can make it through.”

“Good! Good. Go make sure he’s ok. I’ll - I’ll be here.”

Hob pressed on and the resistance decreased, the barrier apparently traversed. He became aware of the fact that there was a wood floor under his feet and walls around him. Another few steps and he was at the top of a staircase. He could see light flickering at the bottom. That was where Dream was, he could feel it. He took a breath and started downwards.

Dream was lying in the bottom of the sphere, naked.

“Dream!” Hob dashed forward.

Dream flinched at the sound of his voice, then sat up, moving like his muscles had forgotten how.

Hob’s heart twisted at the flinch and shattered when he took in Dream’s body. Hob had seen Dream naked in a variety of forms, but never like this. His lover was all sinew and bone and muscle, as if his body had been stripped down to the least amount of mass needed to hold it together.

“Dream…” Hob whispered, stepping forward more slowly. “My god, love, what’s happened? Where are we?”

Dream brought his knees to his chest and hugged his arms around them, not looking at Hob.

“I was in the Dreaming,” Hob continued, “I saw Matthew and I was coming to find you. Did I cross into somewhere else? Are you alright?”

Dream’s eyes looked wet and he squeezed them shut, then shook his head.

“Can you get out of there, love?”

Still no response.

Hob took a breath. This was wrong. That was definitely Dream in there and he felt certain that they were still in the Dreaming. He and Matthew had both felt Dream’s presence. He had to find a way to fix this.

“Love, will it be alright if I break this? I won’t hurt you will I?”

Dream hugged himself tighter and didn’t respond verbally but in the back of Hob’s mind there was a whisper.

“Binding circle.”

It didn’t happen often, but there were times when Dream couldn’t be bothered to speak out loud in the Dreaming. Usually when they were making love. Hob would just suddenly understand what Dream wanted him to know. This wasn’t quite like receiving direction on how Dream wanted to be touched, but it was familiar enough that Hob didn’t question it.

He looked down at the floor and saw the circle of runes. Hob spit on it, then scuffed his shoe through it, leaving a large gap.

When he turned back to Dream, his lover was finally looking up at him but was now visibly trembling. Hob pressed a hand to the glass.

“I’ve broken the circle, love. Can you get out now?”

Dream stared at him mutely, expression scared and miserable.

Fuck.

Hob took another breath. Okay. Dream had been teaching him how to manipulate the Dreaming. Hob closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to disappear the cage, but he could probably get himself a tool. It would have to be something that he could picture vividly. He thought for a moment.

Hob had spent most of 1865 and 1866 in America, building the Transcontinental Railroad. His Cantonese had never been better. He could still smell the dust and sweat, still taste the horrible coffee and beans, and still feel the sledgehammer in his hand. Hob focused on that memory. From the thick calluses on his palm and fingers, to the grain of the wood handle, to the weight of the thing.

Hob opened his eyes to see the trusty sledgehammer in his right hand. Perfect. He raised it and looked back at Dream.

“I’m going to break the glass, love, alright?”

Dream gave a tiny, slow nod. That would have to be good enough.

“Alright, move back a bit, yeah? I don’t want it to cut you.”

Dream scrabbled backwards until he was against the wall of the sphere farthest from Hob.

Hob gave him a reassuring smile, and raised the sledgehammer.

He didn’t have to hit it hard: the weight of the hammer was enough to break through. The tricky part was wielding it delicately enough to open a hole big enough for Dream to get through without cutting himself, and without bringing the whole thing crashing down on them.

He managed it after a minute, then dropped the sledgehammer, which dissolved into shadows before it hit the ground. Hob reached his hand through the hole towards Dream.

“Come on, love. I’ve got you.”

When Dream hesitated, Hob reached further into the sphere. The only part of Dream he could reach was one foot and ankle, but he gently wrapped his hand over the cold skin and stroked his thumb over Dream’s ankle bone.

“Come out, Dream. Let’s fix this.”

Slowly, moving without any of his normal grace, Dream inched himself out of the sphere and Hob pulled him directly into his arms. Dream was only as tall as Hob’s chin, and he sagged his slight weight against Hob’s chest.

“Hob.” Dream’s voice was faint and cracked.

“I’ve got you,” Hob whispered, stroking Dream’s hair and his back over and over. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

Dream was still trembling in Hob’s embrace.

“How about some clothes, love?” Hob asked gently, wondering if Dream could manifest his robe of shadows or his star-filled coat.

Dream made a small noise in the back of his throat but no clothing appeared.

“Alright,” Hob soothed, rubbing Dream’s arms, “it’s okay. I did well enough with the sledgehammer, let’s see if I can get something.” He thought for a moment. “How about that throw blanket from my couch that you like? The soft blue one.”

Hob closed his eyes and pictured the feel of the fleece blanket. Saw himself pull it off the couch and wrap it around Dream’s shoulders. When he opened his eyes, the blanket was there, enveloping Dream. Hob allowed himself a momentary flare of pride.

Dream took a breath, and the trembling stopped. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Hob wrapped his arm around Dream’s back. “Should we get you back to the palace?”

Dream shook his head quickly. “The Waking. Please.”

Hob frowned, but considering where they were, he supposed the request wasn’t surprising.

“Of course, love. Can we tell Matthew that’s where we’re going? He said you had locked him out. I think he’s already worried sick about you.”

Dream grimaced and a shudder ran through him. A moment later and the scene around them brightened. It was the same horrible room, just slightly less dark.

“Boss?” Matthew was suddenly flying towards them but nearly stopped in the air when he saw where they were. “Holy shit! Boss! What the fuck?”

Dream flinched and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sorry!” Matthew said much more quietly as he landed and hopped towards them. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“We’re going to the Waking,” Hob said, drawing Dream closer. “Matthew, will you tell Lucienne?”

Matthew looked between them, his mouth hanging open before he collected himself. “Yeah, um, of course. Hob, what is going on?”

Hob glanced at Dream then gave Matthew a sympathetic grimace. “I wish I knew, mate. But we’ll figure it out. We’ll be at my flat. Come check in, in a little while, yeah?”

“Yeah. Okay.” The raven’s tone was definitely not okay.

Hob sighed. He knew Matthew was nothing if not resilient so he turned back to his primary concern.

“Dream, if I just wake up will you come with me?”

A tiny nod.

Matthew hopped closer. “Boss, I’m sorry I startled you. I - I just… I just want you to be okay.”

“I know, Matthew,” Dream whispered.

Hob tried to give Matthew an encouraging nod, then forced himself awake.

Hob opened his eyes in his bed. Dream was still in his arms, naked and wrapped in the fuzzy blue blanket. Hob leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “Do you want some clothes?”

“Yes,” Dream whispered. “Please.”

Hob pulled himself out of bed and over to his dresser, where he retrieved a thick sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. He helped Dream into them, then perched beside where he sat on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t need to talk until you’re ready,” Hob said, rubbing Dream’s back. “But if you can tell me anything that you need or want, I’ll make it happen.”

Dream sat with his shoulders hunched and palms pressed into the bed on either side of his legs. “Would you. Open the window?”

Hob glanced outside. “It’s raining.”

“I know.” Dream’s head hung lower. “I … the air. And outside. Please.”

Shit, that damn glass sphere was airtight, wasn’t it?

“Of course!” Hob sprung to his feet. “Of course.”

When Hob returned to the bed, Dream was laying down with his eyes closed. Hob was about to head for the armchair in the corner when thin fingers closed around his wrist.

“Hold me?”

Hob smiled and climbed back into bed.

Hob wasn’t sure how long he dozed, holding Dream’s body against his and listening to the rain.

“There are seven.”

Hob stirred himself. “Seven?”

“Seven people. Living. Who saw me. In the cage.”

Hob was wide awake now and listening intently, his arms tight around Dream’s chest.

“The guards were told that I was a dangerous monster. Trapped in a human form in the cage. But a danger to all mankind if I ever escaped.”

Dream was faced away from him and Hob placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder blade.

“I did nothing to disabuse them of this notion. It was, after all, largely correct.”

Hob pressed his forehead against Dream’s back.

“They all dream of me sometimes.”

Hob felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn’t thought of that. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Dream had told him that Burgess had been punished, but what of the guards?

“At first I was distracted by the search for my tools and rebuilding the Dreaming and then Rose. And lately their dreams of me are mostly nightmares in which a monstrous facsimile of me stalks and preys upon them.”

Good, Hob thought. He hoped they were terrified to close their eyes.

“But one of them. Dreamed the actual memory of me and I -”

Dream curled into himself, squeezed his eyes shut.

Hob pulled him closer. “It’s alright,” he murmured.

“I got caught in it!” Dream’s voice was a harsh whisper. “Ridiculous and weak. It was a dream! The paltry dream of a mortal human!”

Hob freed one of his hands to stroke Dream’s hair. “It wasn’t just a dream though, was it? It was a memory. Your memory of something horrible. There must be precious few mortals in creation who have ever been able to do that to you. And it sounds like there are only seven - in the entire universe - who can do it now. Of course it caught you off guard, love.”

Hob pressed more kisses to Dream’s shoulder, and Dream gave a shuddering breath but seemed to relax a little.

“I only managed to push the dreamer out and close myself off before I was lost in it,” he murmured after a moment.

“You will never stay lost for long again, Dream. I promise you.” Resolve tightened in Hob’s gut. He would keep that promise.

Dream squeezed Hob’s arm in acknowledgment, and they let the silence stretch.

“Um, tap tap?”

Hob and Dream both started and looked up at the window to find a very wet Matthew standing on the sill.

“Sorry,” Matthew said, ducking his head, “I would normally tap on the glass but it’s open so… can I come in?”

“Yes, Matthew,” Dream said, pushing himself up to sit.

Matthew shook himself vigorously, fluffing out his feathers and spraying water over the sill. He looked around him with an expression Hob had come to recognize as embarrassment.

“Uh, sorry Hob.”

Hob, now leaning against the headboard, gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about it.”

Matthew flew to the foot of the bed where he perched.

“Boss? Are you okay?”

“I am… better. Than I was.”

“Good! Good. Um.” Matthew shifted from foot to foot. “Can I … ask what happened?”

Dream pinched the bridge of his nose. “One of the people who guarded my prison dreamed of the memory of me and I was … caught in the dream.”

“Oh shit,” Matthew said quietly, hopping closer to Dream. “That must have been terrible. I’m so sorry.”

Dream grimaced and swallowed, then reached forward to stroke a finger over Matthew’s head.

“Do you know why I was locked out but Hob wasn’t?” Matthew asked.

Dream gave a shuddering sigh. “I did that.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“What? Why? Boss, I could have helped you.”

Hob noted with approval that Matthew kept his tone gentle.

“Jessamy tried to help me,” Dream whispered, drawing into himself.

“Oh, Boss,” Matthew’s voice cracked with emotion and he hopped into Dream’s lap.

Dream gathered the raven into his arms. “I could not bear to see you killed, Matthew.”

Matthew pressed the top of his head against Dream’s chest. “I get it. I’m so sorry you went through that, Boss. But I’m here and you’re here, and it’s gonna be okay.”

Hob moved closer to Dream so that their sides were touching, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He leaned over to kiss Dream’s hair.

Matthew looked up after a beat. “I guess knowing your boyfriend can’t die has some advantages huh?”

Hob chuckled. “One or two.”

They sat quietly for several minutes, Hob holding Dream and Dream stroking Matthew, before Matthew spoke up again.

“So how do we make sure this doesn’t happen again? Or if it does happen, how do we get you out quicker?”

Hob cleared his throat. “I have an idea for the former.”

Both Matthew and Dream looked at him.

“The seven people, the ones who are living and have memories of you that they could dream about, do you know who they are?” Hob asked.

“Their books are in the Library,” Dream answered hesitantly.

Hob nodded. “Good.”

Matthew cocked his head to the side. “Why is that good?”

“It’s good,” Hob said, looking out the window, “because I can borrow the books from Lucienne and then I can find those seven people and I can kill them.”

“What?!” Matthew squawked.

Dream shifted away and turned to look at Hob, holding Matthew closer against his chest. “That is not the purpose of my Library, Hob Gadling.”

Hob shrugged. “If you don’t want me to use the books then I’ll find them another way. They can’t be too hard to track down. I’m resourceful.”

Dream’s frown deepened. “You would take greater vengeance than I myself can take?”

“It’s a bit of vengeance,” Hob said, turning to fully face Dream, “but it’s more to protect you from this happening again. You can’t kill mortals who aren’t active threats, but I can.”

“You’re just going to murder seven people?” Matthew’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head.

Hob sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Matthew, I’ve fought in a dozen wars. I’ve been a criminal of various stripes involving a wide range of violent acts. I’ve been in any number of fights that I’ve chosen to end… decisively. Seven people…” he took a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s a drop in the bucket. A big drop, but still a drop.” He reached out to cup Dream’s cheek, locking eyes with him. “And if it keeps you from this pain?” Hob shrugged. “I’ve done far worse for less.”

“Okay, wait.” Matthew hopped out of Dream’s arms and onto the bed where he could face both of them. “Boss, there has to be another solution than letting Stabby McMurderpants loose on seven people!”

Hob decided that he rather liked ‘Stabby McMurderpants’.

“One of them,” Dream said softly, looking down at his hands, “broke the binding circle, which allowed me to escape. He was Alex Burgess’s lover but he was not involved in Jessamy’s murder or the original trap. I would not see him harmed.”

“Well,” Hob reasoned, “if I take out the other six that will greatly reduce the chances of someone dreaming of you.”

“No,” Matthew said firmly. “There’s another way. Boss, you took away Joanna Constantine’s nightmare memory, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Dream said slowly.

“So you can do that with these people, can’t you?” Matthew asked.

“I … would need to touch the dream to remove it from their minds.”

Hob covered Dream’s hand with his own. “Could you get caught in it if you touched it?”

Dream looked away from both of them and nodded.

“Not worth the risk,” Hob said. “Let me take care of it.” He squeezed Dream’s hand.

“But Boss, what if we were there with you when you touched the dream? Couldn’t we keep you from getting caught?”

“I do not know. Perhaps.”

“Well, Bloodthirsty Killerson here seemed to do a pretty quick job of pulling you out once he got to you so if he was there from the start it seems like he could get you right back out again.”

Hob brought Dream’s hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. “If Matthew’s right and this is a viable way to permanently eliminate those dreams, I could have the sledgehammer ready to go, love.”

-----

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2 is up now!

Thanks to @once-in-a-blue-moon-rising for her encouragement and ridiculously helpful beta reading.

Thanks also to @karalynlovescake and @tryan-a-bex for giving the first two chapters of this an early read when I was craving some feedback.

You can find my master post for the Matthew the Emotional Support Raven series here.

#matthew the emotional support raven #dreamling #the sandman #miro does sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #hob gadling #matthew the raven #mirokai writes #this one's a little angstier than the rest of the series #but still tons of fluff #and some emotional hurt/comfort #there will be a happy ending

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themirokai · 10 months

Text

Mild spoilers for the Sandman comics (Brief Lives & The Kindly Ones specifically) and Season 2 of the show below but I promise this post/story isn’t a bummer.

Over on this post, @orionsangel86 asked which comics character you would ship with comics!Dream. No hesitation, my answer is Pharamond. And the idea of this ship got lodged in my brain and then I wrote this. I think this story takes place some time around the beginning of The Kindly Ones when Morpheus is in his Everything Is Fine I Am Fulfilling My Function workaholic phase but it’s real dark and windy in the Dreaming. In this story Pharamond does NOT know how Morpheus's journey in the waking world ended. I’ve got more notes on how this relates to canon and my general thoughts on the ship at the end. With that said, I hope you enjoy

An Interlude

Pharamond stood at the entrance to the Palace of the Dreaming and looked up at the three guardians. They were enormous, imposing creatures but he had seen worse.

“Our lord is not receiving visitors at this time,” the wyvern rumbled.

“I understand, Guardian.” Pharamond gave a wide smile. “But could I trouble you to let him know that Pharamond of Babylon is here? I thought he might appreciate… an interlude. And I brought wine. I will go if he doesn’t wish to see me, but getting here was no mean feat, even for one as skilled at travel as I.”

“I will inquire.” The griffin went very still and Pharamond waited, gently tapping two fingers against the wine bottle.

The griffin blinked. “Our lord will see you. Follow the path of lights and do not stray.”

The huge doors to the castle creaked open. Pharamond bowed politely to all three guardians, and entered.

The temptation to open one of the many doors, or part one of the curtains he passed was great. It was not Pharamond’s first time within the Palace of the Dreaming, but the last time he had been here was thousands of years ago when he had come with other members of his pantheon and he had not been as well-acquainted with his host as he was now. Pharamond would have loved to get just a peak at Lord Morpheus’s home. What did the King of Dreams keep closest to him in this fantastical place? But, Pharamond knew, it was not worth the risk. Besides, if things went as he was hoping, there may be other opportunities. Perhaps he could even ask for a tour.

The lights ended in front of an intricately carved wooden door. Pharamond raised his fist to knock but before he could, Lord Morpheus’s voice sounded close by his ear.

“Enter, Pharamond.”

Pharamond spun around but he was alone in the hallway. He swallowed, gave the hem of his perfectly-tailored blazer a tug, fixed an easy smile on his face, and opened the door.

The room was sparsely furnished, and Lord Morpheus was seated in one of two straight back chairs by a low table. He was wearing a gray t-shirt and black jeans, his feet bare. It made Pharamond question his own choice of clothing, but he knew the cut of his blue suit was extremely flattering and he was aiming to impress. He gave a sweeping bow. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Lord Morpheus.”

“You are welcome here, Pharamond,” Lord Morpheus said quietly, “though I confess that I do not understand the nature of your visit. What sort of ‘interlude’ do you speak of?”

Pharamond smiled and held up the bottle he had brought. “I was hoping to tempt you with some wine. It’s from Astrapalagica and I think it will be to your taste, if I recall correctly.”

Lord Morpheus gestured to the chair beside him. “Join me.” He waved his hand over the table and a decanter and two glasses appeared.

Pharamond repositioned the chair to face his host before sitting. “I thank you, Lord.” He produced a corkscrew from inside his jacket and used it to open the bottle with a practiced hand.

“Are you in some manner of difficulty, Pharamond?”

Pharamond paused his pouring to raise an eyebrow at Lord Morpheus. “Not at all. My business flourishes. I am prosperous and content. Why do you ask?”

“On a prior occasion when we drank wine together you were in need of some advice.” Lord Morpheus picked up his wine glass.

Pharamond took hold of his own glass with a smile. “I do recall, of course. Though that is not what brings me to you on this occasion.” He touched their glasses together. “To you, Lord. And to our continued… association.”

Lord Morpheus peered at him but inclined his head and accepted the toast.

They both tasted the wine and Lord Morpheus made a small appreciative sound. “This is quite pleasing.”

Pharamond felt a warmth in his gut and his smile widened. “I’m very glad, Lord. I would be happy to procure more from Astrapalagica if you like. Or guide you if you’d like to visit yourself. Just say the word.”

Lord Morpheus narrowed his eyes. “I will speak plainly, Pharamond. Why have you come, and why have you come in such a solicitous manner?”

Pharamond sat back in his seat and set down his wine glass so he could hold out both hands, palms forward. “I assure you that I have no designs beyond the pleasure of your company. I will swear it on the names of my pantheon if you like.”

“The pleasure of my company?” Lord Morpheus sounded skeptical.

Pharamond smiled warmly. “I enjoyed seeing you those months ago. It made me want to renew our acquaintance before another thousand years passed.” He sat forward, elbows on his knees. “And I… have heard some rumors lately.”

“Rumors?” Lord Morpheus’s perfect posture stiffened. “What sort of rumors?”

“Nothing scandalous, I assure you. Just that in the last few months the skies of the Dreaming have been dark and wind blown. I have no desire to pry, but I thought…” he trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant under the weight of the black gaze.

“You thought?” Lord Morpheus prompted.

“I thought that you may appreciate some good wine and some conversation with an old friend.” Pharamond swallowed, hoping that his nonchalant tone adequately hid the beating of his heart.

He knew that time worked differently in the Dreaming, but still the seconds seemed to stretch as Lord Morpheus regarded him in silence. Finally the Dream King took a sip of his wine and sat back in his seat.

“An interlude consisting of wine and conversation?” he asked.

“If you’ll allow it.” Pharamond’s confidence grew.

“Hm.” Lord Morpheus took another sip of his wine. “I shall.”

“Excellent.” Pharamond relaxed back in his seat and crossed his legs. “Shall I tell you of the last time I saw Enkidu? I know how you love a good tale.”

Time, Pharamond knew, was passing. Possibly quite a lot of it. He told Lord Morpheus story after story and the King of Dreams shared a few tales of his own. Well, not of himself. Stories he knew, stories about others. But told in those deep, mesmerizing tones that kept Pharamond glued to his chair.

Pharamond didn’t care about the time. He had set things at work so that he could take a vacation and this was the best place he could think of to be. At some point Pharamond had removed his jacket and slung it over the back of his chair, confident that his pale pink button down shirt clearly showed that his physique was as godlike as ever.

He finished a story about a cruise he had arranged for some wood nymphs and reached for his wine glass, only to see that both it and the decanter were empty. Why hadn’t he thought to bring a second bottle? Pharamond looked up to see a tiny smile on graceful lips.

“The wine is done,” Lord Morpheus said. “Does the interlude end with it?”

Could Pharamond read intent into that question? Perhaps he could dream it.

“Only if you wish to be rid of me. I would stay as long as you permit me.”

Pharamond was nearly certain the smile grew by a fraction.

“Very well.” Lord Morpheus stood and Pharamond, thinking he was being dismissed, felt his stomach dip until Lord Morpheus held out his hand. “Will you step out onto the balcony with me? I believe the weather is pleasant this evening.”

Hardly believing his luck, Pharamond took Lord Morpheus’s hand, and marveled at the strength in that thin frame as he was helped to his feet. He didn’t recall the room having a balcony before but he now saw large glass doors along one wall. As they headed that way, Pharamond thrilled at the feeling of Lord Morpheus’s hand on his back.

The view from the balcony was breathtaking: a patchwork of dream landscapes stretched out below, each covered in its own version of night. Blues and blacks and purples stretched as far as the eye could see. Pharamond had seen much in his millennia on Earth and elsewhere but this rivaled the greatest wonders.

“Magnificent,” he breathed.

He looked up to see a starry sky, the kind he had not seen on Earth for hundreds of years, with clouds moving across, blown by a cool breeze. Pharamond turned his attention back to his host. Lord Morpheus was leaning against the stone railing, arms crossed over his chest, a pleased smirk on his lips.

“You are impressed by my realm?”

Pharamond felt bold enough for a step forward. “I am. And it makes me that much more impressed with the magnificent being who is its creator.”

Lord Morpheus’s eyes narrowed again and his head tipped to the side. “What is it that you want, Pharamond?”

Pharamond took another step forward. Near enough to touch now, but he wouldn’t dare. Yet.

“I thought I was making that very plain.” One more step. Only an inch separating them. “That night in Babylon. After the wine and the good advice. I suspect you recall.”

“Hm. You offered yourself to me.” Lord Morpheus’s voice was soft as velvet.

Pharamond’s heart pounded in his chest. “I did. I do so again.”

“I am not a god.” Lord Morpheus brought a long thin finger up to stroke Pharamond’s cheek. “I require no offerings.”

Through sheer force of will, Pharamond kept his voice steady. “And yet you accepted me in Babylon. I know you were pleased with that decision. Let me please you again.”

Lord Morpheus’s hand came to rest on the back of Pharamond’s neck and he ran his thumb along his jawline. “And what will you ask in return?” Lord Morpheus purred.

Pharamond swallowed, let himself lean closer to those perfect lips, nearly brushing them as he spoke. “The ecstasy of your body is its own reward. Thousands of years have passed and I can still feel you. That is all I want.”

The silence stretched and Pharamond tried to prepare himself to be pushed away.

“Hm. Very well.”

The pressure increased on the back of Pharamond’s neck, and then he was kissing Lord Morpheus.

It was exactly as he remembered. The same sensation that had haunted his dreams and waking hours since Babylon. A burning cold, a feeling of being consumed by the void. A thousand stories and poems reeled through Pharamond’s mind, tales of lust and longing and beauty. He forced himself back to the physical, to the feel of cold lips and tongue and teeth exploring his mouth, hands exploring his body. Pharamond gasped as Lord Morpheus bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. Long fingers pressed against the front of his trousers and his cock strained to meet them.

“You came here to seduce me, Pharamond.”

It was not a question, but still demanded a response.

“Y-yes, Lord,” Pharamond panted.

Lord Morpheus leaned his body against Pharamond’s but tipped his head back to make eye contact. “This is what you want.”

Those black eyes. That long, graceful neck. The cold of his skin. Pharamond was undone. “This and more.”

“Then show me,” Lord Morpheus breathed.

Between one heartbeat and the next they were transported to a lushly furnished bedroom. Pharamond grinned and lowered himself to his knees on the thick carpet.

“With pleasure, Lord.”

~~~

In terms of this story’s relationship to canon, I don’t think comics!Morpheus is okay enough following the events of Brief Lives for this story to happen so… idk. It’s either canon divergent in that Morpheus didn’t just kill Orpheus or it’s canon divergent in that it’s out of character for Morpheus. Pick which one you like best.

I don’t think this ship has long-term relationship or soulmate potential. But I do love the idea of them being friends with benefits and getting together throughout the millennia for the occasional booty call.

With all that said as of this posting there are 9 works that include Pharamond in any capacity on AO3, and there is no ship tag for Dream/Pharamond. My prediction is that when Season 2 of the show airs, that will change. So I’m staking my claim now. Come along on this rare pair ship with me, friends.

Also, I almost never ask for reblogs, but there’s no way anyone is going to find this through tags, so I would be extremely grateful if you would spread this a bit and hopefully it will find people who want to read it. ♥️♥️

#pharamorph #yeah that's the ship name #dream of the endless #pharamond #the sandman #the sandman comics #the sandman comic spoilers #brief lives #morpheus #pharamond x dream of the endless #pharamond/morpheus #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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themirokai · 1 year

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✨Master post of my Matthew the Emotional Support Raven ficlets. ✨

Dream needs a hug. This story has art now!

Matthew is cold

Ravens are excellent mimics

Matthew obtains something shiny. This story has art now!

Matthew hangs on. This story has art now!

Matthew has a confrontation

Matthew is missing. This story has art now!

Loverboy: When Matthew met Hob. This story has art now!

Matthew & Dream take a field trip. This story has art now!

Seven: Sequel to Loverboy.

Reunion with Jessamy. There’s art at the end of that post!

Matthew retrieves a fern flower.

Matthew visits his grave.

This series has made some lovely people think of me as a Corvid Person and have sent me wonderful photos and videos. I reblog them all with the tag #corvid posting.

I have started posting these stories on AO3! For your downloading, bookmarking pleasure.

#Matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #the sandman #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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themirokai · 1 year

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Hello, I love your Matthew the Emotional Support Raven series. I know it's not a video but if you're still looking for prompts, would you possibly be able to maybe do one with Dream panicking over Matthew not coming back from the Waking when he said he would and getting really worried and emotional because of what happened with Jessamy? And Matthew, having just been distracted by stealing something shiny for the Boss, having to break out his Premium Emotional Support abilities?

Hi there! I am very glad you're enjoying the series! I"m loving writing it. I also loved this prompt and I really appreciate you sending it!

As I was thinking about this one, I felt like Dream wouldn't really work himself into a tizzy if Matthew had only been gone for a few hours and Matthew probably wouldn't let himself be more than a few hours late if he was just stealing something. So I came up with a slightly different scenario than the prompt. I hope you like it!

Lucienne wasn’t sure how long she had been absorbed with her shelving when movement outside the window caught her eye. The trees on the palace grounds were lashing back and forth in a strong gale. Oh dear. Lord Morpheus must be concerned about something. Lucienne wondered if she could manage a private word with Matthew to find out what was going on.

But before she could send a message to Matthew, Lord Morpheus himself appeared in the library with a gust of wind that blew several books off the shelves.

“Really, sir,” she admonished.

Lord Morpheus took no notice of her displeasure. “Lucienne, have you seen Matthew?” His eyes shimmered with worry.

Lucienne paused in picking up the dropped books. When had she last seen Matthew? She frowned. “I don't believe I’ve seen him for a few days, my lord.”

Lord Morpheus ran a hand through his hair, making it stand even more on end. “I’m certain that he’s not in the Dreaming. I would be able to feel him here, and he would have come to report to me when he returned. I sent him on a task to the waking world two days ago. He should have been back yesterday.”

“Can you not see through his eyes, my lord?”

“I did not think it necessary for this task so I did not establish the connection before he left the Dreaming. Now that he is in the waking world I cannot find him.” Lord Morpheus paced around the table as another breeze blew through the library. “Why did I not think to connect to him?” he said to himself. “I must do it every time he leaves the Dreaming on his own.”

“My lord, all of your ravens have traveled independently of you. We could hardly fulfill our function as your messenger if you had to be watching all the time.”

He was clearly not listening to her. “Lucienne, what if something has happened to him?”

“I’m sure Matthew is fine, my lord,” she said gently. “His task probably just took longer than anticipated, or he got distracted on his way back to the Dreaming.”

“Or he could be hurt and unable to fly home or-“ Lord Morpheus cut himself off with a shake of his head.

He did not need to say Jessamy’s name for Lucienne to feel the last raven’s presence all around them, along with the horror of her murder. The sky outside the window darkened.

“My lord,” Lucienne stepped towards him and reached out to touch his sleeve. Lord Morpheus stared down at her hand.

When he met her gaze again his eyes were shining.

“Matthew is still so young, Lucienne, and brash and incautious. Something terrible could have happened to him. I must find him.”

Lucienne nodded and took a deep breath. “What task did you send him on, my lord? Where did he go in the waking? We should start there.”

But Lord Morpheus was not listening to her. He was staring at the ceiling.

“Matthew,” he breathed.

Lucienne followed his gaze to see a black spot on the intricate painting of the ceiling start to grow bigger and bigger, revealing some strange splashes of color. The shape resolved itself into Matthew, who flew rapidly to Lord Morpheus’s outstretched hand.

“Boy am I glad to be home,” he said as he landed.

Lord Morpheus pulled him close and embraced him. “Are you hurt? Where were you? Why did you not return sooner?”

Matthew pressed the top of his head against Lord Morpheus’s chest. “I’m okay, Boss. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“His lordship was very worried, Matthew,” Lucienne put in.

Matthew looked up and saw her for the first time. “Oh, hey Loosh.” He turned back to Lord Morpheus. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Boss, but I sort of lost track of time. I- uh… met your sister.”

Lord Morpheus moved Matthew out of his embrace to be able to look at him.

“Which sister?” His tone was dangerous.

Matthew spread his wings placatingly and Lucienne could now see that many of his feathers had been changed to a riot of colors and patterns.

“It was Lady Delirium,” Matthew said.

Lord Morpheus’s eyes grew dark. “She would dare to trap my raven?! I-“

“Boss, don’t get mad,” Matthew interrupted. “I really don’t think she ‘dared’ anything. You know her. She’s just a kid. A millions of years old kid, but just a kid.”

“Tell me what happened, Matthew.”

“Well, I delivered your message to the Queen of Opossums - Queen of Possums? Whatever. She was very happy and asked me to convey her immense gratitude.” Matthew cocked his head to the side. “She also kind of implied that you and she… uh… anyway, she said she would like to see you in person again.”

Lord Morpheus’s face was unreadable. “Continue.”

“Right! So I was on my way back here when I felt a kind of pull. Almost like how I know where you are in the Dreaming. And - I’m sorry, I know now it was really stupid and I should have thought about it more carefully- but I thought it might be you, so I followed it.”

Matthew paused to resettle his wings. “And the pull took me to this house where there was a party with a whole lotta drugs and then I worried that you were in some sort of trouble so I started looking for you.”

Lord Morpheus sighed and began stroking Matthew’s chest with his finger.

“But instead I found Lady Delirium,” Matthew continued. “And she knew who I was. I think. Maybe. And she asked me what was the name of the word for when the weather is almost good but not quite good. And I told her I didn’t think there was one and she said she wanted to make my feathers prettier and then everything got really … weird.”

Matthew shook himself. “By the time I pulled myself together it had been more than a day and I flew right back here.”

He ducked his head under Lord Morpheus’s hand and Lord Morpheus held him close again.

“I’m really sorry, Boss. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

With the hand that was not holding Matthew, Lord Morpheus gently took his wing in his fingers and spread it out to examine the riot of colors: neon green next to mauve polka dots and lavender zigzags and more.

“She certainly had her way with your feathers.”

“Yeah… can you change them back to black? I’m all for shiny, but this isn’t really my style.”

Lord Morpheus nodded and spread his hand over the wing.

“Oh wait!” Matthew said, and Lord Morpheus stopped, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“There’s a couple here…” Matthew twisted his head around, examining himself. “There!” He spread his wings and pointed to two feathers on his left wing and three on his right.

Lucienne squinted at them as she realized they were twinkling. They looked like the night sky.

“I kind of like those,” Matthew said. “They look like the inside of your coat. Could I keep them?”

Lord Morpheus nodded with his tiny smile. He spread his hand over one of Matthew’s wings and then the other, and they were once again black, but now with a bit of night sky.

Matthew bumped his head against Lord Morpheus’s chest. “Thanks, Boss.”

“You are welcome, Matthew.” He transferred Matthew to his shoulder. “I am glad you’re home.”

Thanks again for the prompt!

Check out the fantastic art for this story!

Master Post of Emotional Support Raven Fics is Here.

#matthew the emotional support raven #miro does sandman #mirokai writes #the sandman netflix #the sandman #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #lucienne #delirium of the endless #(mentioned)

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themirokai · 1 year

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Your favorite Emotional Support Raven is back, this time in a ficlet inspired by a prompt from @altair214, which is linked at the end of the story. Spoiler for the Sandman Comics: Dream eventually makes a new Corinthian and does a better job of it than the last time. The new guy is still a terrifying eye eater but he doesn’t run away to the waking to be a serial killer and he doesn’t want to kill Dream. The circumstances under which Dream makes him are complicated but we’re not going to worry about that. For this story, we’re still vaguely after the end of the show. But Dream has made a new Corinthian. Cool? Cool.

Once again, proofreading by the inimitable @argylepiratewd who seriously improved the quality of this ficlet and who has proofreading commissions open.

Matthew found the Corinthian, the new Corinthian, in a clearing of the dark and twisted forest that comprised the Nightmare Realm. He didn’t look new. Same face, same hair, same black glasses. Lord Morpheus had said that he had made this one better, and of course Matthew trusted that he knew what he was doing. Of course. He just… wanted to have a conversation. Get the lay of the insane psycho killer nightmare land.

As he approached, Matthew heard a sssshhhhhink! sssshhhhhink! sound. The Corinthian was sharpening knives. Of course he was.

Matthew landed in front of him.

“Matthew the Raven,” the Corinthian said, with his faux charming smile.

Sssshhhhink!

The smile, just like it was on the old Corinthian, made Matthew’s feathers stand on end.

Sssshhhhink!

“Do you have a message from our lord, good raven?”

“Uh, I - uh, no. I don’t.” The knife looked really very sharp.

“Then to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sssshhhhink!

“I just wanted to talk to you.” Sssshhhhink! “Listen, could you stop doing that?”

The Corinthian immediately set down the whetstone next to the line of knives at his feet, but began spinning the knife he had been sharpening between his fingers. “Better?”

“Yeah, uh - thanks.”

“And what did you want to talk about, good raven?” That calm, pleasant smile… was really obnoxious.

“You got some of the old guy’s memories, right?”

“Yes.” The knife twirled smoothly over and under his fingers.

Matthew tried not to miss having hands. “So you know what he did?”

“My predecessor was in existence for hundreds of years, good raven. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “The Boss said he made you smarter than the last one. Either he’s wrong or he also made you an asshole. As you are well aware, I am talking about murdering people in the waking world for over 100 years, helping to keep Lord Morpheus imprisoned, and then trying to kill him.”

“I do have some memory of those unfortunate events,” the new Corinthian said, with an expression so bland Matthew nearly started pecking.

“‘Unfortunate events’?!” The feathers on Matthew’s neck fluffed outward, and he hopped forward. “Listen bub, you need to understand that I am watching you and instead of mouth-eyes I have really good eye-eyes. And if I get one whiff, one inkling, that you are even trending in the direction of the last guy, I am going to be all over you like white on rice. And I may not have a whole line of stupidly sharp knives but I have talons, and I have a beak, and I am annoying as fuck when I want to be. You are going to be begging Lord Morpheus to unmake you again.”

Matthew was standing very close now, looking directly up at the Corinthian’s face. At least the asshole had stopped spinning the knife. “Do I make myself clear?”

Was that… a flicker of hesitation? The faux charming smile was back, but Matthew was almost sure that it carried a hint of uncertainty.

“You are very clear, good raven.”

Matthew jabbed a wing tip at him. “Good. Don’t forget it.”

With a powerful flap of his wings, he took off and whooshed within inches of the Corinthian’s face as he flew past. He may have even knocked those stupid glasses askew.

~ Elsewhere in the Dreaming ~

“I apologize.” Dream turned his awareness back to Hob Gadling. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed Hob’s knuckles. “I was distracted for a moment, it won’t happen again. What were you saying?”

“Nothing important,” Hob gave him that bright, clear smile and gestured to the purple sand of the beach they were walking along. “Just admiring the scenery. I understand if you need to go take care of something.”

Dream shook his head. “There is nothing that requires my attention at this time. My raven caught my notice without intending to.”

“The used-to-be-a-human-but-died-and-became-your-bird-servant raven?”

“Yes. Matthew.”

Hob looked around. “Is he here?”

“No, he is elsewhere in the Dreaming. He became somewhat agitated in an attempt to protect me.” Dream found himself smiling.

Hob squeezed his hand a little tighter. “If you need protecting, I’m not bad in a fight. You didn’t see all my skills in 1789.”

Dream chuckled and kissed Hob’s knuckles again. “I am perfectly safe. There is a nightmare that threatened me in the past, and though it is no longer a threat, Matthew took it upon himself to give it a rather spirited warning. I strongly suspect he did not want me to know about it.”

“Am I going to get to meet Matthew? I think I’m going to like him.”

Dream turned to look at him, curiosity taking over. “You wish to meet my raven?”

“Sure. I mean, I’ve met Lucienne, if only briefly, and it sounds like Matthew is important to you. I would love to meet him. If that’s alright. And possible.”

“I shall consider this,” Dream said, gently touching Hob’s cheek. “But I am very pleased that you have asked.” He leaned in and kissed Hob’s smile.

So the prompt was this post (which may be a crow, we’re not sure but we’re also not picky) and while I started the story thinking that I was going to have Matthew pick up one of the knives, I think that would have made it goofier than I wanted. So I instead went with the ✨vibes✨ of Matthew wielding a knife.

Also… foreshadowing? In my ficlet? It’s more likely than you think!

Master post of all the Emotional Support Raven ficlets is here.

And I've started posting some of them on AO3 here.

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman netflix #the sandman #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

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