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#the sandman
bifrostedgalaxy · 19 hours ago
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The Sandman is being review bombed on rotten tomatoes by you guessed it, racists, transphobes and homophobes and of course nobody is doing anything to moderate it
You can tell they’ve never read the comics and know nothing about them by the way they keep crying forced diversity and too many gays
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thepsychoticqueen · 2 days ago
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Dear Fanfic Authors, PLEASE stop deleting your stories! The number of times I have browsed my AO3 bookmarks, just to find several stories marked as deleted, makes me sad thinking about it.
People love your story. Yes they do. Especially when so many have taken care to give it kudos and add it to their bookmarks. So while as an author I understand wanting to distance yourself from old writing, for whatever reason, please remember others love that story and will be sad to see it go. It could have meant a lot to them.
So instead of deleting, please consider pressing that ORPHAN button. That way the story is no longer associated with your AO3 account or username (the story will now say written by Orphan Account) but the people who cherish your story can still enjoy!
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EDIT, since people are getting mad:
I am not demanding anything from authors. I’m an author myself with several fics posted. All I’m saying is to consider it. Repeat, I’m not MAKING you do anything.
I have a story with almost 500 likes and 200 bookmarks. Am I a fan of my writing from 6 years ago? Not exactly. Will I delete it? No, because I know it would make my readers sad.
You don’t have to orphan it if you don’t want to.
So don’t come here on my post and call me freaking entitled for speaking my thoughts. I’ve orphaned several of my works already. However, I understand orphaning isn’t for everyone and respect each authors decision.
Last but not least, on a happier note, go comment again on those bookmarked fics you love!
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jitterbugbby · 2 days ago
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THIS IS TOO GOOD
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imironstark · 2 days ago
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TOM STURRIDGE as Dream of the Endless The Sandman 1.01: "Sleep of the Just"
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raspberryjellybrains · 2 days ago
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it continually blows my mind that Neil Gaiman is not only on here, but has been on here since celebrities first started trying out tumblr. and his sheer goth swag and impenetrable eloquence has kept him here, largely free from widespread attack. furthermore, it blows my mind that I could say he excels at writing sopping wet and pathetic men with unknowable power and he could, theoretically, see it.
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thesuperheroesnetwork · a day ago
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Texts From Superheroes
Facebook | Twitter | Patreon | Instagram
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loveissupernatural · 2 days ago
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···
**read chapter one here** - **read chapter two here** - **read chapter three here**
Morpheus/Dream x fem!reader
In Your Dreams
Chapter 4
“A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
It was like a bomb went off.
Blinding blue light, a suffocating vortex of wind, a bone-shattering tremor of ancient power that sought to pull you apart at the atoms.
You tried in vain to shield your eyes with a shaking hand, hoping to catch even the smallest glimpse of something, anything, to ground you. The basement was shaking. It felt like the floor had been ripped from beneath you, as if some primordial force of nature was drawing every ounce of oxygen from your body. The blustering, lashing gusts were making it almost impossible to breathe.
But then, whipping turned to a gentle touch.
You slowly opened your strained eyes to see glimmering white sand barely shifting in the now-tender breeze. A luminous blue sky opened above your head, dotted with fluffy white clouds and brushes of glowing pink. A gem-colored ocean lazily lapped at the soft sand and a waft of salt water tickled at your nose.
You knew this beach.
You had daydreamed many times here in your youth, using it to escape the confines of your increasingly dull reality. You lost count of how many afternoons waned away in this place with a book of unusual subject and a sleepy smile. It was exactly as you remembered, maybe even more colorful.
A seagull called overhead. But the sound was wrong, forebodingly sharp.
The bird flew over your head and carried with it a dark sky, full of swirling grey clouds. Distant thunder rolled and the landscape began to fade away. The beautiful sea vanished and was replaced with dunes of rough, unforgiving sand. The breeze, no longer a featherlight touch, was dry and strong. It told of a storm coming.
The chill of fear trickled from the top of your spine and creeped underneath your skin. It was ice freezing in your veins.
A figure was beginning to emerge from a wave of reflective heat and blinding light. Its silhouette was growing closer, its gait graceful but powerful. As it drew closer, you recognized the head of wild dark hair and the outline of bone and sinew.
You could see him clearly now – imposing, ethereal, and still gloriously naked.
Your eyes raked from his sharp collarbone and defined shoulders to his icy blue eyes. He was terrifying, but still so beautiful. Your mind was having trouble wrapping around him. He reminded you of a fallen angel, dangerous but with a rippling undercurrent of seduction.
The otherworldly man bent slowly, dark eyes never leaving yours, and stretched his long fingers through the coarse sand beneath his feet. His palm closed, grasping onto the grains with a clenched fist. He rose again to his full height, slow but purposeful, and took a step toward you. For the first time since seeing him inside of that glass prison, you were truly afraid.
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His power was radiating through the air, through every modicum of sand. It was unfettered. It felt limitless and boundless in your bones. You were feeling the brunt of it, not filtered by a binding circle or glass orb, and it felt so incomprehensible that it scared you.
He stopped a few paces in front of you, eyes unblinking and fathomless. Your breathing was shallow and your chest was heaving. You were dizzy.
His head lowered so that his face would be closer to your level. His dark brows were furrowed and framed his penetrating stare in a way that made you gulp.
His full lips parted.
“You have freed me.”
His voice was amber and honey, soft but rumbling like a distant summer storm. The sound poured over you in a warm wave, leaving your skin prickling.
A very uncomfortable combination of fear and awe had congealed in your throat, capturing all of the words that you longed to say. One question finally made its way out of your mouth.
“Who are you?” you asked. Your voice was small and breathy.
He took another step closer, only a few feet away now. His shoulders squared and he drew to his full height, sharp jaw clenching with thinly-veiled pride.
“I am the King of Dreams,” he breathed, his tongue caressing every syllable like a sonnet, “the Ruler of Nightmares. I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless...”
You swallowed hard, so hard that it was painful.
You hadn’t just released any dream creature, any old manipulator of nighttime fantasies—no, you had released a god.
“That’s…” you gulped again, your gaze struggling under the weight of his, “that’s a lot of names.”
His expression was impassive, but he saw something in yours that made him take another step closer. He could not be any closer now without touching you. Was this it? you thought. Was this the moment he killed you?
“You need not be afraid,” he said, voice gentle but flowing with quiet authority. Your heart was thundering painfully in your ears at his proximity, at the pull of his voice. It ghosted across something deep within you.
“Okay,” you whispered. The word was trembling, struggling to break through that lump in your throat.
The king’s head tipped to the side, eyes studying you in a way that made you feel like the exposed one. He was standing so close that most would consider it socially unacceptable even if he was clothed. The Lord of Dreams was so regal, and still so strikingly naked. Your face felt so hot that your cheeks were tingling with numbness.
“You showed me kindness when I had become quite convinced that humanity was incapable,” he breathed. His eyes had been wandering your every feature, like it was some kind of puzzle that he was trying to solve. He was still confused by your empathy.
You couldn’t help it, your gaze darted to his lips before settling on his incredible eyes again. He was so close that you could feel his breath ghosting across your face.
“I… I just did the right thing,” you replied. Your voice was finally starting to return, as pitiful as it sounded. “It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”
The air was filled with a thick silence. He regarded you, head still cocked, bold gaze searching your eyes for anything deceitful. After a beat, he let out a breath through his nose and straightened again to his full height.
“I am grateful,” he stated. His tone was measured, like he was being careful not to come across as emotional, but there was an undercurrent there of feeling that you were sure you weren’t imagining.
The air was charged, the ashy clouds swirling faster. Your fingers itched to touch his alabaster skin, now so very close and unobstructed by glass. You wanted to somehow show him, through your touch, that you expected nothing in return. That you simply cared.
Morpheus moved back, as if he could sense your intentions, and dropped his stare from yours for the first time. Something in your chest deflated. It felt like you had been unplugged.
He turned away from you, heading back toward the direction from which he came. You were stunned by the intensity of just how much you wanted him to stay and you couldn’t stop the plea that burst from your throat.
“Wait!”
He stopped, back rigid and ramrod straight. He did not turn toward you.
“Where – where are you going?”
It came across much more desperate than you would have liked. How contrite your emotion must sound to a god.
“I must attend to unfinished business.”
His tone was full of vengeful promise, the clouds above your head darkening from grey to black. A very ancient human instinct squeezed your stomach, warning you of the danger in the air. You sincerely hoped that one day you would never be on the receiving end of his wrath.
He was walking away again, strut full of menacing purpose. So many questions and pleas burned in your chest: Don’t leave me, Take me with you, Will I ever see you again? But you shoved them down.
Instead, you called out, “Will you be alright?”
He stopped again. This time, he fully turned toward you, something swirling in his icy orbs that took your breath away. He didn’t answer your question.
He breathed your name, his tongue twirling around it and lips caressing it in a way that sent a jolt of heat through your insides. The foreboding landscape dissolved away around you and was replaced with the scorching blue light and thrashing gales.
Through the howling wind, you heard it. So soft, so seductive.
“Sleep.”
The King of Dreams raised his closed fist and opened his long fingers with gentle care, revealing the mound of sand that he had taken from the desert inside of your head. His lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he blew it out of his palm and toward you. The sand expanded and became a dark cloud against the blinding blue light, dancing and snaking around your body with ease.
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It touched your skin like a lover, poured into your mouth like warm syrup, and you were fading from the world. Happily.
Your knees buckled, your body ready to drop to the hard concrete floor. But it didn’t.
Two strong arms caught you.
The hard outline of his body was the last thing you remembered before being lost to that tempting pull of darkness.
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Your sleep was the deepest you experienced in years.
It was almost dreamless.
It was so very warm, so very pleasant, until you were plagued by terrifying visions. You saw it like flashes from a camera bulb, quick but intense. A black cat, a journey down a dark hallway, and a menacing black silhouette with the glowing eyes of a stalking predator.
“Alex! Alex, please! Wake up, darling!”
You were jolted from your sleep, gasping, disoriented. You were in your bed.
Paul’s screams were echoing down the hall in the early morning light, desperate and panicked. You jumped out of bed as fast as your unsteady feet would allow, a choking feeling of despair in your chest. Something inside of you told you what you would find.
You bolted into the master bedroom, hair flying and a sob on the edge of your lips. Alex Burgess was lying in the bed with eyes darting around inside of his closed eyelids. His head was moving back and forth, as if he was fighting something, disturbed whimpers escaping from his lips. The emerging light of the sun through the bedroom windows shined on his sweaty skin.
“He – he won’t wake,” Paul sobbed to you, turning to meet your concerned gaze with eyes full of tears. You gulped back the cries that wanted to rip from your throat, immense guilt enveloping you like a suffocating blanket.
“Paul, I – I’m so—”
You stopped yourself. What were you going to say? Paul, I’m so sorry for releasing the vengeful God of Dreams from your basement that I wasn’t even supposed to know about in the first place? Or what about, Paul, I’m so sorry, but I’m the reason your husband is gone forever?
You exhaled shakily. “I’ll call the doctor.”
The doctor confirmed what you knew in your heart. Alex Burgess had fallen into a coma that he would never return from. An inconsolable Paul looked sick when the basement guards told him that Edwin had quit the night before and never showed up for his shift. When Hattie and Randy saw his tear-streaked face, they knew. They blamed themselves, but Paul, in his infinite grace, did not.
He descended to the basement with you in tow, telling you hoarsely that he wanted to show you something.
Paul opened one of the glass doors for you. You stepped into the dark room slowly, guilty tears stinging your eyes. The binding circle was blurred, the glass was shattered, and the familiar hum that you’d grown to love was gone. The room was empty, dead.
“I should’ve known,” Paul’s sorrowful voice echoed through the shadowy room. “I knew it would happen one day… just not today.”
Your gaze dropped to the glass-covered floor, blinking back the tears that were begging to fall. This was all your fault. You knew, deep down, that this would happen if you released the Dream Lord.
“Those – those guards, they feel awful,” you said hesitantly, unable to meet his eyes. You had been formally introduced to them that morning. You felt awful is what you really wanted to say.
“It’s not Randy or Hattie’s fault,” Paul sighed, taking a step toward the broken orb of glass. He kicked a shard on the floor absentmindedly. “It’s ours. Mine and Alex’s.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because, Roderick Burgess trapped something in this cellar that was never meant to be held,” he replied almost instantly, forlorn. “And we… we were too afraid to fix his mistake.”
You knew in your heart that this was true, that the ultimate fault really did lie with the Burgesses. But you had played your part, and for a kind heart like yours, it was a heavy burden.
“I wish… I wish there was something I could do to help you,” you offered, heart breaking for Paul. The love that you observed between him and his husband for the weeks you were there was truly beautiful to witness.
Paul gave you a watery smile and put a hand on your shoulder.
“Maybe help me with – with some preparations?” His voice broke on the last word.
“I’d be honored.”
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After Alex Burgess’s funeral and a heartfelt goodbye to Paul, you left the Burgess house for good. Not quite ready to go home, you rented a small cottage in a nearby town from a kind elderly lady. Flying back to the States already meant that you would be returning to your old life, the one with something seriously lacking, and you didn’t want to do that. Not yet.
Something inside of you wanted to stay here, in England, at least for now. You wanted to be close to where you met the otherworldly man with eyes that told of universes. You were afraid that the further away you got from the Burgess home, the further away the memories would drift from you.
You never wanted to forget him, the King of Dreams.
You closed your eyes and remembered Alex’s casket and Paul’s tear-brimmed eyes. Don’t forget, you told yourself, he’s the King of Nightmares too.
Despite now knowing who he was—what he was—you couldn’t just let him go. He was powerful, dangerous, something other, but to the despondent ache in your chest none of that mattered. That hum, that vibration that resonated in your very cells… you missed it. Now that you’d experienced it, you weren’t sure that you could ever live without that feeling again.
But you were only human, and he… he was something so ancient that words couldn’t do justice. You were but a blip on his radar, a tiny ant in an ever-expanding universe that he would surely forget if he hadn’t already.
It had only been a week since you released him, but it felt like so much longer. Every time that you fell asleep, you appeared in a world that you recognized as your beloved dream universe. You hadn’t been here in ages, especially since you’d arrived at the Burgess house. Your sleep was fitful, fleeting, and dreamless while Lord Morpheus was locked underneath your feet. Now, it was like a veil had lifted and you were able to return home.
But your haven of escape had changed. Something was different.
You could see past the borders of your own dream now. The hills of tall, green grass that danced in the fragrant breeze ended abruptly, revealing a wasteland of dark rock and churning clouds. Previously, you never even noticed that your dream had a border. But now that you could see the desolation stretching on in the distance, you wondered how you had ever missed it in the first place. It was like someone had removed your rose-colored glasses.
Every night you ventured closer and closer to that border, working up the courage to breach it. You were a consistent lucid dreamer and you were always aware that you weren’t in the real world the moment you closed your eyes. You would fabricate flowers and trees, rivers and brooks, beaches, even small creatures that would roam your little stretch of dreamland. But every time you tried to create something to root beyond the border, it would dissipate into a pile of dark sand and blow away.
You chewed on your lip and twirled the cup of Sleepytime Tea in your hands. It had grown cold. You must have been daydreaming.
The one thing that you longed for more than anything else was to see Dream again. It was a pull in your gut that made you want to sleep every hour of the day. Every night since his release, you called to him in your dream world, but he never came. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was beyond that imposing line, that if you finally had the courage to go poking and prodding into the dark that you would find him.
As you settled into your small bed, you decided that you would venture into the unknown. You would tread the soil untouched by you and test its limits. The emptiness of what lay beyond that border reminded you of a nightmare, but you would search there anyway. Your unbridled curiosity always won over in the end.
You turned off your bedside lamp and closed your eyes. You made a conscious effort to slow your breathing when you noticed swirling shapes begin to dance behind your eyelids. This was always how your dreaming started.
Those shapes flowed, fluttered, and changed colors. They stretched and molded and glimmered until they began to settle at your feet, turning into lush green grass and pirouetting butterflies. The familiar scent of white poppies tickled your nose and you opened your eyes. The two suns that kissed in the sky moved, bringing swaths of pink and orange light with them. They began to set on the horizon of the ocean you’d created the night before, casting vibrant hues that danced in the water.
You turned around.
Behind you, only a few steps away, was the border. Lightning struck in those curling dark clouds, a warning.
Even though you felt like this was something you shouldn’t be doing, that you weren’t allowed to do, you took a deep breath and held it as you scooted a toe past your remaining grass and into the black sand. Thunder rolled over your head, like a growl in the chest of a beast. With bated breath, you moved your other foot away from the soft carpet of green and into the ominous grains.
You stood there for a moment, waiting for lightning to strike you dead or for a gaping mouth of sand to swallow you whole. But nothing happened.
Hesitantly, you stretched your hand out in front of you. It was shaking and damp with sweat. You steeled yourself, then with everything you could muster, you visualized a winding road taking shape before you. You wanted bricks of white, smooth marble to cut through the bare landscape and lead you to Morpheus.
Slowly, so slowly at first that you thought it was just a gust of wind tickling the ground, the sand began to move. It was stubborn, like it didn’t want to move for you, but you just focused every thought on Dream, on how badly you wanted this, of that intoxicating quiver that encased your bones when you were near him. As if giving up, it parted like water, revealing a path of snaking black marble cut with veins of gold.
Well, you were going for white marble. But that’s okay.
You let out a gleeful giggle of disbelief and placed a bare foot onto the road. The golden veins glistened to greet you, as if saying hello.
“Wow,” you sighed appreciatively. You brought you other foot to rest on the marble. It was cold.
You cautiously moved one foot in front of the other, eyes in front of you taking in the ever-parting black sand and stormy clouds. With every step you took, the sand parted a bit more, as if where it was leading you was a secret that would only be revealed once you reached your destination. You felt powerful, but also a bit like you were sticking your hand in a proverbial cookie jar.
You weren’t sure how long you walked through the endless dunes of black, but after what felt like an eternity, an ocean appeared and stretched in front of you. The water was almost as dark as the sand, but it glittered with bits of dancing purple and starlight. The streams of glistening color moved through the calm waves as if alive, as if waiting to shape themselves into something once commanded.
It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
The dark sea sleepily licked the black sand that blew toward it, dancing out of your way. The path was beginning to curve into the water.
With slight trepidation, you edged your big toe into the waves. It swirled around you, tickling your skin, and began to part as well. You placed both feet into the dark ocean with more confidence now. The waves began to divide like the Red Sea. The colorful slivers of starlight were an aurora, swaying through the walls of water. Suddenly, the path dipped deeper into a descending crevice. You couldn’t see the bottom. The edge of sea floor ended abruptly.
Well, you’d made it this far. It would be a shame to turn back now.
With bated breath, you gathered every ounce of courage that you possessed and took the leap. Literally.
You were falling, but it was gentle. The lightless air swirled through your hair like water, but then you realized, it was water. An invisible chord pulled you by your ankle. You were sinking further, further. Your world was shifting and spinning and you didn’t know which way was up.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.
You were emerging from the depths, floating into the air, gasping for cool and forgiving oxygen. The sea dripped off you quickly, as if it couldn’t wait to leave your skin, and you were instantly dry. Gently, almost kindly, the dancing air lowered you onto a dark wooden dock.
The sight that met you was unbelievable.
A gargantuan wall of horn and ivory towered in the distance. It was laced with the most beautiful and intricate carvings of faces, creatures, and landscapes that you had ever seen. Even from this far away, you could tell how utterly massive it was. It stood, erect, in the middle of the black sand beach. Unwavering and unmovable.
The moment your foot kissed the black sand, it twisted and separated for you, revealing the same black marble. The golden veins snaking through the stone glimmered again in greeting, like it was happy you’d made the journey.
A childlike smile tugged at your lips. This was more beautiful than even your wildest imaginings.
You followed the welcoming path all the way to the gates, absolutely enthralled by their sheer size the closer you drew. You noticed a massive carving in the middle of the doors, of something resembling a spine connected to the head of an insect. The image reminded you a bit of an antique gas mask.
With tentative but curious fingers, your touch brushed a white gate door, featherlight. You pulled your hand away to find that golden sand was stuck to your fingertips. It glistened in the faint light of the cloudy night sky.
The sound was so deep and trembling that it made you jump back in surprise. It reverberated through the immense ivory walls, making them shake loose more golden sand. You were afraid that you’d broken something, that a giant monster was finally coming to swallow you for wandering outside of your dream, but the sound stopped.
The echo of an enormous bolt unlatching vibrated through the gate and through your body. The marble beneath your feet hummed. The gates were separating for you.
An ever-widening sliver of a view appeared as the doors continued to open. Expecting to see mind-blowing beauty that you couldn’t formulate in your craziest fantasies, you held your breath and resisted an excited giggle.
The sight that met you stole the breath from your lungs.
It was hollow, dark, desolate; an endless stretch of colorless grounds covered in murky water. And at the middle of it all, a once-glorious castle that was crumbling before your very eyes. Gaping holes sat where towers once stood. Spires were bent and decayed. Arches that spoke of past splendor were disintegrating as you watched. Thunder rolled somewhere in the foggy distance.
You had never seen this place before and you didn’t know how long it had been like this. However, something in your gut told you that this was the ultimate tragedy, that this place was once a shimmering gem in the center of this land. A piece of your heart fell into your stomach like a piece of stone falling from the castle wall.
Your quick footsteps echoed around you in the eerie silence. You were certain that if anyone still resided in that castle, without a doubt, they would hear you coming. You were the only speck of life on this bleak stretch of swamp and sand.
You were overcome by a sense of urgency, a need to enter the castle. Would you finally find him, the King of Dreams that overtook your every waking thought? Your chest ached with a longing that felt quite pitiful, really. You were a bit embarrassed by its intensity.
You walked through the decaying threshold. The castle was falling apart just as much on the inside as it was on the outside. You had to keep your eyes on your bare feet to avoid sharp stone and shards of broken glass.
“Excuse me.”
You jolted in surprise, panicked gaze rising to see a figure approaching you from a cracking entryway. She stood at your height, clad in a neat dark suit with coattails. Her brown skin was smooth and almost glistened. She had no hair to hide her pointed ears or her deductive gaze. Her brown eyes were full of intrigue as they assessed you over the top of her circular spectacles.
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“And who, may I ask, are you?” she questioned. Her tone was business-like but not unfriendly.
You felt like you’d been caught doing something naughty.
“I’m, uh, I’m Y/N,” you replied meekly. The woman’s gaze continued to study you.
“Well, Y/N, I’m afraid you must be lost,” she said, taking a step closer to you, “for you are not supposed to be here.”
You gulped, feeling admonished. So, that gut feeling of doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing was right on, then. The woman’s eyes narrowed curiously and she tipped her head to the side, still reading you.
“How did you get here?” she asked.
You looked down, shyly pushing a dull piece of rock around with your foot. You shrugged.
“I just wanted to explore,” you admitted quietly. “Something told me to venture out of my dream. A path led me here.”
“A path?” she repeated, perfectly shaped brows rising in surprise.
“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes rising from the floor to meet hers. You felt a spark of pride in your chest. “I made one. If you look outside of the gate, you may still be able to see it.”
The woman’s eyelids fluttered in disbelief, taking another step closer to you. She was reviewing you closely now, like if she looked hard enough she would see a clue on your skin.
“You – you created something here in The Dreaming?”
Your brows knitted, confused by her shock.
“Sure. I change things around in my dreams all the time,” you replied, not understanding what the big deal was. You chewed on your lip thoughtfully. “Today was the first time I was able to make something outside of that border, though.”
“Border?” Her voice dripped in incredulity. “You were able to see the border between your dream and another?”
“I haven’t always been able to see it,” you said quickly, like a child trying to placate their parent. “It only started a week ago.”
The woman seemed equal amounts shocked and concerned. Embarrassment poked underneath your skin at her astute stare. She regarded you with a look that made you wonder if you were growing a second head.
“You should not be able to leave your dreams,” she said finally, shaking her head. You thought you detected underlying fear with her concern. “And you should not be able to create whatsoever, let alone a path through the waters to lead you here.”
“Where is here?” you asked, swallowing down your prickling sense of shame.
The woman adjusted her spectacles, sighing. “You are in the heart of The Dreaming.”
“This is the heart?” you asked, looking up at the disintegrating ceiling and destroyed stained glass windows. “It looks… broken.”
“It is,” she said solemnly.
Your reason for being here prodded at the base of your neck, imploring you to ask her what you wanted to know more than anything else.
“Can – can I ask you a question... I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Lucienne,” she replied. Her eyes were suspicious but not unkind.
“Lucienne,” you repeated, giving her a kind smile. “The only reason I left my dream was because I was looking for someone. Hoping to see someone, actually.”
You had piqued her curiosity. She watched you over the edge of her spectacles again.
“And who, pray tell, would that be?”
“Morpheus.”
She blanched, but recovered quickly. “You know Lord Morpheus?”
“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, a bashful smile overtaking your face at the very thought of him, of those eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of your soul. “I released him.”
Lucienne gasped. The sound echoed through your head like a ringing church bell, and suddenly she was gone. The castle melted away and you were surrounded by black nothingness. It was cold. A force pulled at the back of your navel and you were falling, falling, falling…
You shot up in your bed, breathless and gasping for air. Your wobbling hand reached up to your forehead and wiped away a thick layer of sweat.
You collapsed back onto your wet pillow, clamping your eyes shut and punching your soaked sheets.
You were so close.
**read chapter 5 here
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kindlyanni · a day ago
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Well well well if it isn’t another Morpheus doodle
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irlplasticlamb · a day ago
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i am anti-life. the beast of judgement, the dark at the end of everything.
prints available here
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guaaa-camole · 2 days ago
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Tom talks about the days he spent inside the fishbowl in three different interviews 💛as I promised
update: sources 🐟 🥣 🥺
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beaulesbian · 2 days ago
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I’ll tell you what, I’ll be here in 100 years’ time. If you’re here then too, it’ll be because we’re friends. No other reason, right?
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itsjustineffable · 2 days ago
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👀
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raggedy-spaceman · 2 days ago
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Hob could have simply written the new address here but no, he decided to spray paint an arrow all the way from the old tavern to the New Inn just in case because it’s been 700 years, he knows how dense Morpheus is.
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And he literally named the new place The New Inn to be extra sure
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I love them
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isakvaltersoft · a day ago
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What was your favorite nightmare from the Sandman?
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daddyjackfrost · a day ago
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Chapter 1: A Fated Meet
╰┈➤ ❝ [Stay With Me ; Morpheus] ❞
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morpheus x fem!reader
warnings: third person pov, 5k+ words, i have not read the comics
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The air was warm and husk as the full moon illuminated the small village, livelier than it ever was during the day. Peasants swarmed around, singing and drinking. That was the power of the dark, it brought upon such comfort. Hidden, yet not concealed, had been humanity’s favourable way of living.
Death, the maternal eldest sister of her siblings, quite enjoyed small towns. The first act of life and the final act of death felt intimate among villages, and perhaps it was her yearning to understand humanity, but a mourning village was humanity’s greatest display of love.
Walking beside Death, was her younger brother: Dream. Both of the siblings, The Endless, were out in the Waking World for different reasons.
Death, while doing her job, wanted to walk amongst humans with her brother. She wanted him to connect to the living, awake humans that visited his realm. It had been an old conversation that had carried on for thousands of years.
Dream, in all his ancient and sullen glory, had left his realm to appease his sister.
Death smiled at Dream, motioning her head towards the lively tavern to their right. “Let’s go inside, Dream.” Death began walking towards the tavern, her dress following behind her.
Dream held back a sigh. When it came to Death, there was not a single place he would not follow. As much as he disliked leaving his realm, he had yet to decline an offer from Death. For her, Dream would do anything.
Dream’s original impression of the tavern did not do it justice. The inside of the wooden pub was filled with village folk, men and women alike. Loud, overlapping conversations and lit torches welcomed the siblings. In the midst of the chaos, Death and Dream walked slowly through the tavern.
“Must we spend time here, dear sister? I assumed we would visit those who called to you.”
Although the tavern was loud, overwhelmingly so, Dream’s voice wrapped around Death.
“Patience, Dream.” Grabbing two jugs of alcohol, Death handed one to Dream, who looked at her unimpressed. “Look around you. This… this is humanity. This is what they live for.”
Dream scanned the tavern, taking in the scene before him. His eyes trailed their clothes, their hair, and their mannerisms. Dream did not know how his sister could see beyond what mortals were, temporary. Humans were nothing special, not to Dream. They had simply been created to give his siblings and himself a purpose. A job.
“I do not know how one could want to live this life. They are miserable. Why else do they sleep as much as they do? Spend much of their life in my realm?”
Death rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her drink. As she did, Dream placed his drink on an empty table, abandoning it.
“Humans are so much more than you give them credit for, Dream.”
“Doubtful,” Dream said, slightly amused. Death’s relentless pursuit was admirable. “A human could not love this life. This is why they kill and return to you so quickly.”
Death raised an eyebrow, a challenging glint in her eyes. “Is that so?”
Dream nodded, once. He controlled the realm of dreams and nightmares. He was the King of The Dreaming, he knew what humans yearned for, dreamed for, and it was not this. Nightmares for humans consisted of happenings from the Waking World; debt, illness, loss, and fear.
Mortals feared their own creations, as well as his.
Death began walking. “I want to introduce you to someone, Dream. Someone I believe may change your stubborn mind.”
Curious, Dream followed his sister. The Endless were not supposed to mingle with mortals, not unless absolutely necessary. And his sister was not one to break the rules.
Death stopped in her tracks, staring at a table of women. Dream paused next to her, his eyes landing on a woman half standing in her seat, her voice passionately carrying through the tavern.
“I will never die, Karisa. I recommend you do not as well. Look around you,” the woman spread her arms, motioning to the tavern, “there is so much to live for. Why would death take me from a world I was born to love?”
Dream’s eyes darkened. There was something in the woman’s voice that called to him, cut through the noise of the tavern and reached his ears. Intrigued, Dream shifted closer to the woman.
At the slight movement next to her, Death’s lip twitched. She leaned into Dream, speaking quietly.
“This, Dream, is Y/n L/n. A mortal not afraid of death, but afraid of not loving enough.”
Dream stood straighter. “You once asked me if a human could love their life enough to live it forever, and I believe we may have just found our answer.”
Dream hummed in response. With the slight tilt of his head, he considered this human. At first glance, she appeared to look like any other woman that visited his realm. Dream’s eyes travelled the length of the woman. Her hair seemed to shine, her eyes twinkled, and something magical seemed to run in her blood.
It was with distraught as Dream of The Endless realized he found this human to be beautiful.
From the corner of her eyes, Death tried to decipher the look on her brother’s face. Yet, Dream remained stoic and unmoved.
“We all die, Y/n. There is no escaping it.” Karisa, the blonde woman sitting across Y/n, stated.
Y/n shook her head, tucking her escaped hair behind her ear. “No,” she disagreed. “If this life was a gift, Death shall not take it back. Surely it cannot be that hateful.”
Death grinned, and Dream’s soft pink lips twitched.
“Are you hateful, sister?”
Death let out a small laugh. “Not even close,” she whispered back.
“What do you propose, then? How will you live your life to escape death?” Karisa asked, amused.
Death, Dream, and the other women around the table leaned closer, intrigued by Y/n’s answer.
“Simple,” Y/n sat back on her stool. “I will simply live my life, promising to love openly. There is such a wide sea I have yet to explore, land I have yet to see. I know I shall live my life to the fullest. And my love for living will save me.”
Dream let out the softest of sighs. He had never heard a human speak in such a way. The very reason he existed was because when the Waking World left humans wanting and weary, they would enter his realm.
If humans began to love their waking life, would there be a need for The Dreaming?
Dream planned to ask Lucienne about Y/n. What she dreamed of. What scared her. Why did he not recognize her from his realm?
Karisa, seemingly familiar with Y/n’s passion, laughed. “Love is not that strong, my naive dove. It cannot save you.”
Y/n’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, determined. “On the contrary, my dear Karisa, I believe love to be very strong. And I have much to love, much to give my heart to.” With a smile that only a friend could decipher, Y/n said, “you know how much love I have to give.”
Karisa let out a small smile, shaking her head. “Yes, darling. You and your overly large heart.”
Y/n brought her jug to her lips, smiling at her friend.
Death shared a look with Dream. Many, many, eons ago, Death and Dream laid their opinions about humans on the table. Dream, confined to the human unconscious, believed that mortals could never love their lives, hence his very purpose.
Death, closer to humanity than any of her siblings, argued that a human’s capacity to live their life had little to do with eternity, and more with their ability to love.
With a nod, Death straightened and laid her hand upon Dream’s shoulder. “I grant Y/n L/n immortality. For as long as she loves her life and yearns to live, she shall live.” Turning to look at Dream, Death continued. “I, Death of The Endless, grant Dream of The Endless to take her life, if the chance arises.”
Dream tensed under Death’s touch, his lips parting for the slightest of moments at Death’s change of tone. Dream had taken lives before, but Death’s permission seemed intimate, like a ribbon of fate had been tied to his name.
Death released her grip on Dream’s shoulder and smiled at him.
“Learn from Y/n, Dream. Let her guide you to the meaning of humanity. And more importantly,” Death’s voice turned breathy, ancient, “she is yours.”
Dream’s lips twitched down. The air around him grew heavy and darkness crept into the tavern.
“Explain the meaning behind your last sentence, sister.”
Dream’s voice was huskier, taunting. It prickled the nape of Death’s neck. Although Death was older and wiser, she had seemingly forgotten that Death also ruled Nightmares, and his company was not all pleasant.
Stepping away from her brother, Death smiled. “I’m but a messenger of fate, Dream.”
Dream stared at the space Death occupied before she vanished. Flexing his fingers behind his back, Dream slipped into the shadows. He would wait to speak with Y/n, once they were alone.
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Positioned at her highest, brightest point, the moon stood proud as the tavern emptied and the village-folk found their way back to straw mattresses and the cold floor.
Y/n, the last of her friends to remain, walked out of the tavern with the energy of a child. Hours within the crowded bar did little to hinder her appearance. Among the dirty, poorly mannered villagers, Y/n appeared to be a dream.
Dark calculating eyes watch the mortal from the shadows. Dream emerges into the moonlight with grace, his black robes dragging against the dirt road. Hand clasped behind his back, he stands tall as Y/n walks away from him.
“Are you the one who speaks of defying death?”
Dream’s voice is low and he speaks his words slowly, drawing her in. Y/n halts, her back instantly straightening. With caution, she turns and a small gasp escapes her.
Standing before her is a tall, lean man with snow-white skin, and long black hair. She recognizes the embroidery on his black robes as those of the wealthy. Shadows hide his features, but Y/n does not miss his sharp jaw or the downward curve of his lips.
Strange, she thinks, everything about him is dark, except his lips.
“Love, was it?” The stranger’s voice vibrates against Y/n’s spine. “Your love for life will be your saving grace?”
Y/n turned completely, coming face-to-face with a being that resembled a man, yet felt anything but.
“Are you mocking me, sir?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at the man. She had not seen him in the tavern, and the man before her was not dismissable.
“Anything but, human. I find your love for living intriguing.” Dream took one step closer, his voice ticking Y/n’s cheek. “You must tell me how far love gets you.”
Dream’s lips curve upwards briefly, and Y/n pinches her hand. “Let us meet every hundred years, Y/n L/n, and you shall tell me if you truly love this life.”
Before Dream can slip back into his realm, Y/n asks him: “How will you find me?”
Dream had forgotten how conscious humans can be. As Dream prepared to respond, he noticed a glint in Y/n’s eyes, one that seemed to already know his answer, but yearned for the words to be spoken aloud.
“I will find you, Y/n. Even if you may not want me to.”
With that, Dream slipped back into the shadows and into his realm, The Dreaming. Before the gateway closed, Dream caught Y/n’s brief smile and turned his head. He had experienced enough of humanity to last him a thousand years.
Waiting in Dream’s throne room, Lucienne, the chief librarian, stood patiently. She had received word from her Lord to find everything they had on a Y/n L/n, and to Lucienne’s frustration, there was very little.
“Lucienne.”
Lucienne bowed as Dream walked by her and sat on the steps of his throne. Raising her head, Lucienne faced her Lord, smiling. “How was your trip in the Waking World, my Lord?”
Dream paid little attention to the librarian.“Interesting,” he answered, shortly.
His eyes landed on Lucienne’s empty hands and Dream frowned. “I asked for records, Lucienne. Where are they?” Dream’s voice remained as soft and emotionless as it always did, but Lucienne did not miss the flex of his fingers.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I checked very thoroughly and there is no record of Y/n L/n in The Dreaming. The only information I could find was that she is an only child, and her parents died when she was a mere babe.”
Dream rose to his feet, his long black coat following him down the steps until he reached Lucienne.
“How is that possible, Lucienne? Every mortal dreams. We have records of every single human.”
The weight of Dream’s words pressed down on the librarian and she winced. “I know, my Lord. However, Y/n simply does not exist within The Dreaming.”
Dream stared at Lucienne’s earnest expression and let out a small hum. It seemed that Death’s chosen human would be more interesting than Dream thought.
Lucienne cleared her throat and Dream’s eyes shifted to her, attentive. “Perhaps, my Lord…” Lucienne chose her words carefully, “Y/n may not be completely human.”
Dream lightly exhaled through his nose, releasing the tension that had gathered between his shoulder blades. He let himself breathe in the scent of The Dreaming, knowing it cleared his mind/
“A God?” Morpheus questioned, mused.
Lucienne shook her head. “Not quite, sir. I checked the Book of Gods, and did not find her in it.”
Dream walked back to the steps, sitting down. His coat spread out around him dramatically and he rested an arm on his knee, rubbing the skin under his chin.
“If not a God…”
“I am not sure, my Lord. But as you said, mortals dream, yet Y/n does not. She is an enigma.”
“Yes, Lucienne.” Dream thought back to the woman with a profound interest in living. “She is.”
“What will you do, my Lord?” Lucienne tried to keep her curiosity to herself, but she wished to know what her Lord would do. Y/n L/n was unknown to The Dreaming, and therefore, a possible threat.
“Nothing,” Dream answered. “I am not to worry myself with her, Lucienne. I will meet her in a hundred years time, and have my questions answered then.”
Holding her tongue, Lucienne nodded and bowed.
“As you wish, sir.”
As Lucienne walked back to her library, Dream ran his thumb over his lips. There was something about Y/n that irked Morpheus. He was unsure whether it had to do with her overwhelming love for life, or because he did not know her.
“Jessamy,” Dream whispered.
As a master calls upon a servant, a black and white raven landed before Morpheus. The raven bowed at her master, waiting for instructions.
“The mortal, Y/n. I need you to keep an eye on her. You must tell me if she has any relationships with any Gods, or…” Dream paused, “my siblings.”
Jessamy, ever the faithful servant, bowed her head and flew off.
Morpheus stood and dusted off his coat. He would not think about Y/n anymore. He was an Endless, he had a job to do. Responsibilities to adhere to.
Transporting out of his palace and into Fiddler’s Green, Dream clasped his hands behind his back and began walking. He would travel through The Dreaming, visiting each resident and balancing dreams and nightmares, imagination and reality.
As a kingdom does for its King, grass parts for Morpheus and trees loom over him, protective of their King.
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100 Years Later…
Y/n brushed her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose pieces behind her ear. She smoothed out her dress and sat down, pressing her back against the large tree. Although she brought a book to read, the tied pages lay untouched next to her.
A hundred years had passed since Y/n had met that strange man and made an unspoken deal with him. She thought about the man often. His eyes, voice, and most of all, the presence he carried.
Y/n breathed in the fresh air. Her eyes danced across the field, filled with children and their families. A wave of loss washed over Y/n. The man she had loved had died long ago, and her children had grown old.
“I see you are well, Y/n.”
A raspy, lowly pitched voice invades Y/n’s mind, vibrating against her skull. Blinking, she looked up at the figure standing to the left of her.
Y/n’s eyes took in the being clad in black robes. In the sun, Y/n got her first proper look at Dream. His dark raven hair was shorter than she remembered, his eyes held indifference, and his skin looked bone-white. His face was sculpted to perfection, straight nose, sharp jaw, and soft pink lips.
He was beautiful.
“I am, yes.” Y/n smiled at him. “You really did find me.”
“Had you any doubt?” Morpheus asked, curious.
“No,” Y/n answered. “I hope it was not easy, though.”
“Why? Is this a game?” Morpheus’s head tilted to the right slightly.
“Is it not?”
Straightening his form, Dream motioned toward the park. “Will you accompany me on a walk?”
Y/n did not know this man—being—but his voice, soft and raspy, was not asking a question. It was a hidden command, and Y/n was to obey.
Y/n answered by extending her hand to Morpheus, an invitation to appease her curiosity about him. After living longer than anyone she knew, Y/n cared less about etiquette and more about enjoying and loving her life.
Dream’s eyes narrowed at her outstretched hand but his expression remained stoic. With a gentleman’s grace, Morpheus stepped towards Y/n and slipped his curved hand under hers, his thumb resting on her fingers.
Y/n tightened her hold on Morpheus’s hand as he pulled her up. Their hands, locked and pressed together, resembled a sign Y/n had seen once in a book.
Yin and Yang.
Standing, Y/n and Morpheus stood close, their hands no longer connected. Y/n held her breath as she saw a glimpse of stars in his blue eyes, and Morpheus stood still as he recalled Death’s words: “she is yours.”
Morpheus stepped back, turned, and began walking. Y/n let out a breath before running after him. Standing close to him felt uncomfortable, like he knew the secrets kept hidden deep within.
Walking side by side yet with considerable farness, Y/n and Morpheus walked through the forest clearing. Y/n cleared her throat and Dream looked at her from the corner of his eyes.
“Will you ask me?”
Morpheus looked straight ahead. “How has life been for you, Y/n? Do you still love it?”
Y/n laughed, surprising Morpheus. “Life has been hard. My husband, family, and friends have died. Many from famine and the plague. Do you know how hard it is to explain why you are not aging? I think I may have caused mental anguish to some.”
Dream listened attentively. Her words held painful stories, and yet her tone was light, happy. Before making his presence known, Dream had watched Y/n for a moment. She looked content, uncomfortably so.
“Do you wish to die?”
With furrowed eyebrows and a smile, Y/n looked at Dream like he had asked an absurd question.
“Wish to die? Absolutely not, my goodness. The pain of loss dulls over the years, but I love my life. The feeling of falling in love is so enamouring, I wish to feel it again, and again.”
Dream stopped walking, turning towards the strange woman with the same passive expression.
“You love your life?”
“Yes.”
Morpheus nodded, once. “I see.” His tone remained soft, yet rumbling. “I shall meet you in one hundred years, Y/n.”
Before he could slip away from her, Y/n took a step toward him on instinct. Dark blue eyes glanced at her feet before flickering to her face.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Dream considered her words for a moment, before nodding. “If I may ask you one.”
Y/n shrugged, nodding. “What can I call you?”
Morpheus stared into Y/n’s eyes, looking for any ulterior motives. Names were powerful, and Morpheus had many.
Morpheus parted his lips, and changed his mind.
“You may call me Oneiros.”
Y/n tilted her head, her eyes wide with curiosity as she let his words sink in. “Oneiros”, she repeated slowly.
The sound of his name, old, unused, awakened something in Morpheus. He had chosen to give Y/n that name because it existed before her time.
“What does it mean?”
“You have asked your question.”
Y/n’s face dropped before she laughed. “Yes, I suppose I have. What is your question, Oneiros?”
“Do you dream, Y/n?”
For the first time since Morpheus learned about Y/n, she tensed and her lips twitched downward.
“Pardon me?”
Morpheus took a step closer to Y/n, tilting his head to match eye-levels.
“Do you dream, Y/n?” Morpheus’s voice was soft, but his question—and it was a question—felt taunting.
Y/n considered lying, but when Morpheus’s blue eyes caught hers, she knew that lying would be unorthodox. Such eyes, as ancient as they were, would see through her.
“No,” Y/n answered. Surprising herself, and The Dream Lord. “I do not dream when I sleep.”
Oneiros stepped closer to Y/n, until they breathed the same air.
“Why?”
For the first time since Y/n had met Morpheus, she heard the slightest hint of curiosity.
Stretching her lips into an uneasy smile, Y/n took a step back. Needing to breathe her own air.
“You have asked your question, Oneiros.”
Dream blinked, slowly. His lips twitched upwards.
“Yes. I suppose I have.”
Without a word, he slipped back into the shadows. Hidden from mortal view, Morpheus watched as Y/n stared at her hands before clenching them into fists.
When she turned and began walking, Morpheus slipped into The Dreaming.
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200 Years Later…
“Are you on your way to visit the mortal, sir?”
Morpheus nodded at Lucienne. He stood on his palace balcony, taking in the sight of The Dreaming. His affection for his realm was beyond words, and his tenderness towards his creations often rendered him speechless.
“I have been checking the library for any new information on her, but nothing new has appeared.”
Morpheus turned his back to The Dreaming and stood upright as Lucienne spoke.
“Y/n told me she does not dream. She seemed… upset about the fact.”
Lucienne raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”
“Yes. That was all I asked.”
Hiding her frustration, Lucienne smiled. “Right. Well, perhaps you shall find out more today.”
Morpheus slipped into the Waking World. When his eyes opened, Morpheus stood in what he assumed was a library.
Scanning the old, abandoned library, Dream’s eyes landed on Y/n. She sat on her knees, facing an elderly man. The man’s hair was white and his eyes had grown old. Morpheus recognized the man.
Adam Khan.
Using the shadows to get close, Morpheus decided he would remain hidden until Y/n was alone.
“I do not understand,” Y/n said, quietly. “You have many children, why me?”
Adam Khan smiled, and the room brightened. He laid his brown wrinkled hand on top of Y/n’s.
“Because, my dear, you are my child as well. You love these books, this space, more than any of my other children. I will die, but you will not. Let my love for knowledge live through you.”
Dark eyes watched Y/n’s lips tremble. Her emotions were written over her face, empathy had never been painted clearer.
“Thank you, Khan. I will love and protect this library for as long as I live.”
Adam Khan laughed, standing. “I imagine that to be a long time.” He tipped his head and walked away, leaving Y/n alone.
“You can show yourself, Oneiros.”
Morpheus stepped out of the shadows, arms hanging beside him. “How did you know?”
Y/n pushed herself up, standing. She turned to look at him briefly before smoothing out her gown and walking down an aisle. Morpheus followed her, silently.
“The air chilled, and I felt your eyes on me.”
Morpheus hummed. His fingers skimmed the books on either side of him, thinking of Lucienne and her library.
Y/n tried to keep a stable pace as she walked. Dream’s presence behind her had her body on edge, like she needed to outrun a nightmare.
Reaching the end of the aisle, Y/n motioned at the seat facing hers. “Can I get you anything?” After a pause, she tilted her head to the side, eyes calculating. “Do you eat? Human food, I mean.”
Morpheus sat down, smoothing out his coat. “No,” he answered her first question. “And, yes.”
Y/n nodded, realizing that was the second thing she knew about him. “Are you human?” Intrigue coated her voice.
Morpheus took a moment to contemplate his answer. “Would you like to play a game?”
Y/n smiled, leaning forward. “I love games.”
“I will answer two questions, if you answer two of mine.” Morpheus decided to withhold any rules. Why set them if they are not needed.
Y/n kept her calculating eyes on Morpheus. She leaned away from him and crossed her legs.
“What could a being like you want to know about me?”
Morpheus lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “Quite a bit, actually.”
Y/n’s head dipped as she tried to hide her fleeting smile. “Fascinating.” She looked up, meeting Morpheus’s penetrating stare. “What are you?”
Dream’s expression remained impassive. “Have you any guesses?” His voice was honey, soft yet raspy, like a summer storm.
Y/n tilted her head and bit her bottom lip. She had her theories, but Dream’s stare made her feel exposed, hesitant. “You cannot be human. And defining you as a God… feels inadequate.”
Morpheus’s head tipped to the side, his blue eyes studying Y/n in a way a sculptor studies his muse. “I am not a God. I am more. Endless.” His tongue caressing the syllables of the last word as one would a sonnet, or the name of a lover.
“That is not an answer.”
For the very first time since meeting Oneiros, Y/n felt the slightest inkling of fear. Two hundred years ago, Y/n guessed she may have made a deal with the Devil, but she realized that the Devil was a subsidiary among beings like Oneiros, more than a God.
“That is my answer.”
Y/n smiled, uneasily. “Very well. My second question is,” Y/n spared a glance at the wide window, “why does your raven, Jessamy, follow me wherever I go?”
Y/n watched his expression very carefully, looking for any signs of surprise. Morpheus remained still, his eyebrows furrowed and his stare bold, but not withering. Y/n watched hesitancy dance on his lips and awaited his answer.
“To watch you.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped Y/n and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Dream’s eyes narrowed, slightly.
“I know that much, Oneiros. But why?”
Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “You have asked your questions.”
Y/n looked at him, bewildered. “You barely answered them. You are not a conversationalist, are you?”
Ignoring her words, Morpheus leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you not dream?”
Gone was Y/n’s teasing smile. Her lips fell into a frown and she threaded her fingers together, leaning back into her seat, seeking comfort. “I do not know. My slumber has always been dreamless.”
“That is not possible. You are human. Human’s dream.” Morpheus’s voice was gentle, flowing with thinned curiosity. “Do you lie?”
“Is that your second question?”
Morpheus’s lips curve upwards. He had forgotten what a good conversation felt like. “No.” Dream wanted to ask more about who she is, what she is, but at the last second, he changed his mind. “How has your life been this last century?”
Y/n failed to hide her surprise. She was sure he was going to ask something else, but she accepted the change of conversation.
“With honesty?”
Morpheus nodded, once. “I invite honesty. You shall do well to remember it.”
“The last sixty years have been hard. I was called a witch and taken as a slave for a very ruthless man. I escaped, along with Adam Khan’s children. My time as a captor was filled with hardship. Hunger is a feeling I wish upon no man.”
Morpheus leaned back, his hands folded. “Do you wish for death?”
Y/n laughed, and Morpheus’s eyes remained on her.
“Not in the slightest. I had a few hard years, but that does not mean I do not love my life. I escaped, made friends, learned a great deal about humanity and the power of knowledge.” Y/n turned her head to look at the old, withering building. “I have been given this learning center. I have so much to live for.”
Morpheus looked away from Y/n. Her passion and empathy prickled his skin until he had to look away. A small, hidden part of Morpheus was glad she had not asked for Death. He found her company interesting.
A universe studying the atoms it is made of.
Morpheus stood, tipping his head. “Until next time, Y/n.”
“In a hundred years time, Dream.”
Morpheus’s head lifted and his burning gaze fell on Y/n’s smiling face. “Greek is a very beautiful language, agreed?”
Morpheus closed his eyes and slipped back into The Dreaming, a small smile on his face.
That night, in over two hundred years, Y/n dreamed for the first time.
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sic-vita · 2 days ago
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The Sandman |  Hob Gadling and Morpheus (1389 - present day)
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orchidblack · 2 days ago
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The King of Dreams by Yoshitaka Amano.
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