endlcssdreamiing

[endlcssdreamiing]

It is fair damning, that the Corinthian opts to respond with impertinence. The very realm responds to it in turn- the waters in which the Nightmare waded swirling in tandem with the blossoming irritation of the Dream Lord; gripping the creation and heaving it's body up and out of the crashing waves to land - none-too-gentle - upon iron-black sand.

A landing that places the Corinthian at the gradually manifesting feet of his Creator; sand swirling- theatre his plaything -and materialising the Endless grain by grain.

"Avoiding you...?" Clarifying query is laced with every edge of cool ice - be careful now, little nightmare - though his features momentarily remain expressionless once they manifest. "I have plenty of business in the Dreaming that does not concern you, Corinthian. Do you... think yourself fierce enough to intimidate me?"

A whisper of his name carried by the winds succeeds in stalling the Nightmare's efforts to wade into the depths. Stilling with dark waters lapping at his waistline, the Nightmare half turns with the expectation to see his Lord standing upon the shore. But Dream encompasses everything that his Realm is. The Nightmare could look and see nothing, yet still be addressed by his Creator. Still feel the weight of his disapproval mounting upon broad shoulders. Feel the need for explanation crawling up his throats.

Forgive me. His maws want to scream. To cut loose his Creator's ire before it festers.

The Corinthian remains silent. Staring back at the dark beach whilst the scrambling claws and appendages of half-baked Nightmares begin to paw at his submerged legs.

"My Lord." The Nightmare formally addresses, wearing a disarmingly courteous smile. An expression unfit for a delinquent caught in the act of defiance.

"I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

[endlcssdreamiing]

verse tag dump? we'll think of more eventually.

toss him in a ball and yeet it down the stairs just to see what happens-

v. - verse sv. - ship verse (whenever i think of them)

will i use these reliably? ...an effort will be made.

[endlcssdreamiing]

He said, “Listen to my words: When there is a prophet among you, I, the Lord, reveal myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams."

Numbers 12:6, NIV

[endlcssdreamiing]

[ writing anything for morpheus is a bit of a tooth-pull in terms of giving my partners things to work with, because he is such an introspective muse. much of his reactions are also muted and limited to his eyes - that i adhere to comic canon with them being nebulous despite my icons being tom's pretty blues - that if one isn't close enough they'll miss.

he doesn't flounce or move around a whole lot unless he has a specific destination in mind. which is a bit new in terms of muse, so i am very grateful to everyone who is patient with me as i wiggle my fingies and continue to feel/figure him out. ]

[endlcssdreamiing]

“The iron bars you have erected around your forgiveness—do they serve you well?” (@griefacquainted)

The query itself - peaceful sounding, yet feeling deliberately pointed - pours reticence and shame in equal measure - white-hot - through the cosmology of the Dream Lord the same as it invites acidic indignation that flares - just as his eyes do, widening - as NAPALM.

How DARE you--!!

The Carpenter speaks of no specific event, and yet Dream feels every one of them as pinpricks within the nebulous swath behind his eyes -- watching each event in turn that had earned his grudge. From lovers to creations to siblings, there is plenty to which He could be referring.

It is unsettling, and as ever when the Lord Shaper is unseated, he yearns to leave. To be gone from the physical space ethereally umbral frame occupies. Dreamsand even begins to swirl at his feet in anticipation of such inevitable departure.

" Your input is unwanted, and furthermore inaccurate, Son of Man. You have learned nothing from Your days of Rome. " It is not quite a threat as intended- Morpheus knows better. What is IS, is the attempt to divert awareness from his intent of escape.

[endlcssdreamiing]

Check out that metaphysical damage. Remind me to write a hc on this later.

Dream IS the Dreaming, and the Dreaming IS Dream. One hundred years and the entirety of him is scorched earth, cracked foundation, and rubble. He is metaphorically AND literally in pieces.

utterly wounded both outside, and in the deepest recesses of himself. again, i'm losing my mind over the symbolism. his sanctum, his most private center is rubble and shattered glass.

also hey @byteing - I would call this 'metaphysical devastation'~.

[endlcssdreamiing]

yeah it's happening. let me shove this rake-thin yet infinite concept back into the pear wiggler.

if anyone wants to discuss or plot feel free to dm me here or on discord (if you have it!)- or just send me things!

Rewatching the first episode is GOING to make me want englobed threads. Mark me. It'll happen.

[endlcssdreamiing]

Rewatching the first episode is GOING to make me want englobed threads. Mark me. It'll happen.

[endlcssdreamiing]

Dream gives the Fallen Star a strangely contemplative look- nebulous gaze actively swirling as if in mimicry of his thoughts. If it is a challenge of stamina Lucifer deigns to lay, it is one Dream is more than capable of matching. Yet . . .

It doesn't seem to be a genuine one. A pity.

"I can." Initially, such seems to be the only words he deems fit to speak, a hand curling - calling sand silently into his palm. "...from the ancient ages to the modern day- you exist within my halls. To see these dreams, however, as a dreamer would have them- you must be willing to succumb to sleep. To submit." To me.

Lucifer's lips quirk upwards at the mention of stamina. "Who knows how much my organ can take - Perhaps we should try it out sometime, conduct an experiment and see just how resilient I am."

"Absolutely - I want to see it all." Lucifer's curiosity is insatiable. Especially when it has the potential to feed his ego. "Can you show me?"

[endlcssdreamiing]

And the first finished drawing of the year will be a King Dream/Morpheus, from @five-and-dimes 's medieval Sandman AU Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly.

Can someone give Tom Sturridge an Elvish/fantasy role, please????

(I think colored pencil on colored/black paper is my new passion❤️)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55626781

[endlcssdreamiing]

“And what do you dream of?” (@griefacquainted)

The ocean does not swim, was his first thought.

Yet there are so many aspects of him that do not require sleep. On those, perhaps, he will be able to answer. It doesn't quite allow itself to contemplate personal desires; if only for the avoidance of opening such boxes Pandora would be horrified.

" Perhaps we are a mirror, Carpenter. Creators both- I dream and shape many things within my realm, as you have made all within Yours. " Including the Endless- if Night and Time had been His first gifts. Morpheus isn't sure anymore-- the upsurge of angry atheism and neo- and old world pagan sentiments colouring the history written in the Dreaming. " ...if I were to be... vulnerable; I dream of love undying. "

[endlcssdreamiing]

The Sandman in a nutshell:

[endlcssdreamiing]

❛ you don't love me quite so fiercely now , ❜ ( from desire, bitterly ) | @saturnmused

it looks at them with thinly veiled contempt- wary of their purpose here within this space. for what purpose was such brought up now- long after anything could be done? hope curls acrid within cosmic chest, yet he brushes her away.

" and who's fault would that be, sibling mine? " no- nothing good could come from this. he was certain.

[endlcssdreamiing]

we got a deal, pretty boy? // From hob | @neptunemused

there is, perhaps, a lilt of hungry danger to the gaze of the lord shaper as it drags over it's longest Waking friend. pinpricks of light set within the void itself this day; as it'd previously agreed to allow hob gadling to see more of it.

far too long, has it simply been 'stranger'. now, he is 'morpheus'- hob only the second to know the name.

" i suppose... a more frequent visitation would not go amiss. though i would hear from your own lips as to the source of such desire. pretty boy. " beg sweetly now.

[endlcssdreamiing]

“When I first met him… he was the most gallant of lovers. He knew so many things. He delighted in sharing his knowledge. He had a castle full of treasures, and he took such pleasure in showing them, giving them to me. He was so gentle, and his skin felt like white silk against my skin. And I gave what I could give to one such as he. When we made love, it was like a flame: I felt utterly engulfed, utterly loved. Treasured. I have been with many poets, many dreamers… but his love alone was ice and fire. His eyes were stars.”

— Calliope, in The Sandman #71, by Neil Gaiman