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thevampiremarie · 1 month ago

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treehouse chapter 34 (tumblr version)

🔞 Dream of the Endless I Lord Morpheus x reader 🔞

Unplanned pregnancy, SMUT

In the Waking World, Morpheus finds the cure to your recent ailment. Read on AO3 here.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, MALIGAYANG PASKO, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! THANKS FOR READING I LOVE YALL SO MUCH! One of my fav things about fanfiction is that oftentimes it can be a more ethical way to consume certain media, especially when the original creator is exposed for doing fuck shit. So consider this guilt free, cruelty free, organic Sandman! This chapter takes place canonically at a made up lake in the Philippines, which I modeled after Lake Sebu. Lake Sebu is notable for its significance to the local indigenous T'boli tribe, who are known as the Dreamweavers. Traditionally T'boli women weave t'nalak, a sacred textile made up of patterns that come to the T'boli weavers at night in their dreams. Thus Lake Sebu is known as the cradle of the Dreamweavers. Additional note: I had to change my usernames everywhere because I was being cyberstalked. As a result I accidentally broke all of my masterlist links, I fixed them

Reader POV:

Shortly after you lose yourself in the pale ivory maze of halls and doorways that capture you the second you step beyond the confines of your chamber, Morpheus finds you.

These halls are a labyrinth without a single splash of color to relieve the oppressive, endless uniformity. White tiles and black tiles forming a checkerboard pattern, then you turn down a path constructed of ivory and ivory alone, another of deep black granite without a shade of light or a window to relieve the deep shadows drowning you.

You hold your hand to your temple to stop the pressure building in your skull, pain churning through your nerves like white-capped waves. Your fingers come back damp with sweat.

It feels as though you’ve been swept away. Carried around the Dreaming by forces you can hardly comprehend, much less control.

Are you still asleep in your feather bed?

“Wake up,” You whisper to yourself. “Wake up.”

“You’re awake,” A deep voice says. The sound distorts between the skewed, unnaturally-placed walls.

You turn on your heel and find yourself face to face with the source of that displeased, rather put out voice.

Morpheus crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against a pillar with pursed lips. “I’ve been looking for you, darling. I had an interesting conversation with Johanna Constantine.” The blush drains out of your face.

Before you can respond, your stomach contracts and twists into itself. Before you even realize it you’re bent over in two, watching the apple cider splatter out of your mouth and onto the floor.

His cool hands pull your loose hair away from your face and back behind your head. “Hardly my best look,” You mumble as you bat away his helping hands and try to stand on your own. You should know better at this point. Morpheus isn’t easily deterred, especially when it comes to you.

He helps you stand anyway, shrugging off your rejection like water rolling off a duck’s back. “Unfortunately, no. But I’ve seen worse.” In your head, you translate that from Endless to English to mean ‘yeah, you do look like shit.’

Tactful as always. “It’s all your fault,” You mutter. When he offers an arm for you to slide under, you do so gladly, clinging to him like a lifeline. It even feels like one, like a lifesaver for two idiots stuck in deep water of their own making.

Your head hurts so much less when your eyes are closed to the Lovecraftian chaos in your surroundings. It’s second nature to bury your face into his shirt and let the soothing rhythm of Morpheus’s heartbeat distract you. “Come along,” He urges you, taking a few steps to some unknown destination without deigning to inform you where.

Despite the kindness in his voice and the softness of his shirt against your cheek, more comforting than any blanket on your great bed, you push back. “No.” Your feet stay where they are. Morpheus would not drag you somewhere. It would be undignified.

After a few seconds pass, Morpheus seems to come to the conclusion you had already decided; that you will not go. “Wait- stop-“ His arms sweep you up off your feet as if you’re nothing more than a flower to be plucked out of the ground.

You open your eyes to see his stupid smirk oozing with victory. “It’s for your own good, little darling. Or would you prefer I put you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes?” It would be even less dignified for you to be treated so and Dream knows you’d refuse it.

He continues on with no further resistance. You haven’t lost all your pride just yet. His lengthy stride carries the two of you farther in a minute than your legs could in an hour and your surroundings fade into a blur, like paint dripped into a bowl of water.

Morpheus doesn’t have to say anything for you to feel the stymied laughter moving his chest. “Stop gloating.” You poke him once, twice, three times. No reaction.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are.” Your legs kick gently in the air to make your point.

Morpheus sighs under his breath and mumbles something that sounds like he’s calling you ‘impossible’. And as you’re very mature, perhaps the most mature person here, you decline to respond. It feels like you’ve won after all.

He pauses for a moment to glance at your surroundings. For all you know, you could be anywhere in the world. But you’re with him and that’s enough to keep you calm. For now. “What you have is called sleepy sickness,” Dream says. When he notices you staring, doe eyed and blushing from being carried in his arms like the queen he calls you, his mouth places the faintest kiss upon your forehead.

A humid breeze brushes your cheeks, warm as a hug and carrying the scent of dew-covered grass and clear running water. “It’s not that bad,” You mutter. You’re lying of course, just to be contrarian. It’s only fair to cause him half the headache he’s caused you.

Morpheus sets you down on a fallen tree trunk covered in soft, jade green moss. His hand lingers on your wrist, as smooth as polished marble, and then he takes a gentle, yet firm hold of your jaw. His fingertips barely skim your cheeks, close enough that you could kiss his hand if you wanted.

Morpheus kneels in the dirt without a care, peering into your eyes for a long moment.

“I do expect an explanation on why it took that… exorcist for me to know you were suffering,” He tells you in a low timbre. “I cannot take care of my love, my queen, my heart itself, and the beloved child you carry without you… talking to me.” Silver moonlight highlights the deep, shadowed worry lines on his face.

Morpheus has called you his heart. He’s wrong. You can see his heart still in him, cracked open for you to observe, not quite on his sleeves but beating through his chest.

Even you have to admit his admonishment is more than fair. No complaints. You duck your head. Anything to get away from his gaze. “…I’m sorry.” You are, truly. He stops your chin from dipping with the same soft touch used between lovers, between those who share knowledge of each other’s souls.

Morpheus hums softly. “Don’t apologize, and don’t do it again.” He calls you out as if he’s approaching a frightened deer, coaxing you towards him with sweet words, the hand cradling your face like petting the raised spine of that startled animal. “Now come - we will remedy your illness now. I’ll not have you spend another second in such a state.” His outstretched hand helps you to your feet.

A canopy of branches stretches above both your heads. The long, friendly finger-like branches of old growth trees dance and wave hello in the wind you felt earlier. Between the gaps in the large leaves, stars wink at you. Some of them even move, and you realize those unique flecks of light aren’t stars. They’re planes flying in the night and satellites spinning through space, chattering back and forth with each other and the rest of humanity.

You recognize the faint red glow of Mars and the pale yellow fleck of Venus in the dark firmament. “Where are we?”

It feels… real. It feels right. What binds your feet to the grassy earth, covered in scattered fallen leaves and the new buds of wildflowers is gravity, not magic mimicking it.

Morpheus leads you through the old growth trees without hesitation. “Ordinary mortals cannot spend unnaturally long periods of time in the Dreaming. It happens but rarely, most recently when I was imprisoned and unable to uphold the laws of the universe that separate the Waking World and the Dreaming,” He says without looking at you. His skin gleams like mother-of-pearl under the silvery moonlight. “The soul wants to stay as much as the body yearns to go. They grow sicker and sicker as the connection that keeps their dreaming souls attached to their waking bodies weakens. Eventually that connection snaps, leaving behind a comatose body and a wandering spirit in my kingdom with no name or face.” Such respectful words for a nightmarish fate.

Through the trees, the moonlight finds something else to reflect off of. The shine beckons you closer and closer, until you see a large, tranquil lake. The water is the clearest you’ve ever seen, tinged a naturally bright turquoise. Through the glass pane surface, you see the sandy surface of the lake bed dotted with small, smooth pebbles, at most a few feet deep. Vibrant pink water lilies spread open their great green pads at the lake’s edge and birds sing songs to each other in the trees. A white heron picks its way through the lake with meticulous, stilted elegance. It stops to consider the pair Morpheus and you make, then magnanimously decides to give you your privacy and fly away

Something stirs at your side, breaking the spell. You turn to watch, still dazed from the sweet, clean air, as Dream gathers your fingers and kisses them. “The only cure is to take you back to the Waking and allow your soul and body to rest as one, as they were meant to,” He apologizes. His lips are so pink, and his eyes are so wide.

“I can breathe again,” You murmur as your lungs fill with the scent of fragrant banana leaves and papaya trees brought out by the humidity.

It’s all real. You tell yourself that over and over. You sink to the ground and bury your fingers into the earth. When you rub your fingers together, you can feel the grains of dust separate and stick to the grooves of your fingerprints.

You want to touch everything. The rough bark on the trees, the ribbed surface of the lily pads. You want to smell the blossoms and feel the cool water of the lake wash away the clinging, disorienting remnants of the Dreaming from your mind.

Dream joins you on the banks of the lake. “I know,” He coos, dabbing away the sweat shining on your cheeks. “That’s it, darling. Feel better?”

Your dirt-marked hands meet his, seeking reassurance that he’s just as real as you. That he won’t slip out of your grasp and flee into the night like a stranger, now that he has delivered you home.

His palms only have a few lines compared to the meandering map of creases on yours and Morpheus patiently lets you explore them until you’re satisfied with what you find. You leave smudges on the backs of his hands. You go to wipe them off, about to mumble an apology, but Dream stops you. He wraps his fingers around yours even tighter, even as you protest that you’ll get him dirty.

“Now listen carefully,” He begins. His grip trembles, a single, uncontrolled movement in the edifice of composure. Chaos, barely leashed. “I want you well. I want you to smile and forget any time you were unhappy because of the Dreaming. But if you run, I’ll come after you. You know I will. Decide for yourself if you’ll take the relief and pleasure I’m offering, or if you want another chase and the tears that come with it.”

A dream is nothing without a dreamer. Morpheus has long since decided that you are his dreamer, so like all dreams, he fears your eventual abandonment. He fears you might decide that he adds nothing to your life and discard him, leaving him purposeless, a book abandoned on the shelf unread watching as you move on and never look back. Pick me up, his eyes beg. Read me, need me, keep me by your side. Find me a home in your home.

Later, you’ll blame it on the sweltering tropical heat. You’ll blame it on the silver tongue of the god of dreams, slithering its way into your head.

“Is the water swimmable?” You ask instead of answering. In the periphery of your vision, he nods.

So you rise.

What need is there for running? You’re home. The wind has danced through your hair before. The trees have whispered secrets to you since you were old enough to look up at their leaves and make up fairytales. You can empathize with how Morpheus and the Dreaming are bound together. You’re bound to here, birthed and raised here.

The sand grows damper the closer you walk to the edge of the water. It sticks to your toes in clumps. You shed your clothes as a snake sheds its skin. You leave them behind you, a trail of breadcrumbs followed by the sight of your back, bared to him.

You hear a sharp inhale. “Are you sure you want-“ Morpheus’s voice is strangled as if he’s fighting his own dark urges, extinguishing them so that the flames won’t singe you.

The water is much warmer than you thought it would be. It ripples gently across your skin and you walk further into the lake’s embrace.

Once the water envelopes your hips, barely brushing where your belly naturally folds over your hips, you turn to look at the god watching you on his knees from the shore.

You’re aware of everything- your nipples hardening, his narrowed dragon-like eyes feasting on your breasts, your soft arms and plush thighs, and a warmth stirring in your core that only Dream can awaken.

But there in your thoughts is the cold reminder of Johanna’s warning. There is no doubt that Morpheus has been cruel and capricious, carelessly tearing apart anything in his path like a tornado ripping trees and telephone poles from the ground.

But he’s yours. He’s pursued you, chosen you, fought for you. He loves you enough that he’s risking letting you go, where before he locked you in his realm like a songbird in a cage.

You hold out your hand. “Join me.”

Morpheus doesn’t make you wait a second longer. “As you wish, Basileia.” He practically rips his shirt off, losing a button or two in the sand in his haste to reach you.

The hard, muscled planes of his chest beckon to you. You could never get tired of Dream, of looking at him, of wanting him. He’s already half hard against his thigh and he walks into the lake with the smooth, prowling gait of a leopard stalking some helpless prey.

His arms catch your waist and pull you closer. You melt into Morpheus’s familiar touch, impossibly strong yet cradling you as if you were as fragile as spun glass. It’s not until you’ve tucked your head into the crook of his neck, his salty skin so close to your lips that you can almost taste him in the air, that Dream finally relaxes. The water wraps the both of you in a warm cocoon, heightening your senses. Every move he makes ripples against your skin and you’re so painfully, acutely aware of his hips, his legs, how close they are to your own…

Droplets of water trickle between your breasts. Dream follows their path with reverent, covetous eyes. Those beads of water are more precious than diamonds to him because they have the privilege of touching you.

Your skin is painfully sensitive. His grip tightens, shifts, he palms your ass and his other hand cradles the back of your neck, warm and possessive. The pregnancy hormones are no joke; you’re starved, desperate to take him apart with your teeth and hands, and to be taken apart in return until all you know is his taste.

You trace his arched cheekbones with damp fingertips and run your thumb over his plump, flushed lower lip. Dream’s white teeth glint as they sink into your thumb. Not deep enough to cut, but just enough to sting .

Your fingers slide through his dark hair. You graze his scalp with your nails, you pause to take a fist full and tighten your grip. You tug. Morpheus gasps, then curves his mouth into a lazy, listless smirk.

When he kisses you, you kiss him back furiously, your mouth dancing with his and one arm slung around his neck to draw him into you. You moan into the kiss and he hums at the back of his throat in response. Dream’s lips leave yours, much to your displeasure, only to settle on the top of your nose, then your eyelids, the corner of your mouth…

Water streams around your thighs as Morpheus practically drags you up, easily holding most of your weight with one of his arms. The heat in this place is such that sweating does nothing to cool your body, and the muggy air makes stitching yourself as close as possible to his body even sweeter. You bare your neck to Dream’s kiss-swollen lips and the hickies he sucks into your skin.

Your thighs quiver, each sensation so much stronger and brighter than they were the last time he knew you like this. A sweet, drawn out sigh tears itself from your chest as he bites down like a wolf marking his mate. Morpheus groans in return, mouthing against your skin like he’s starved. He mutters and growls as he makes his way past your collarbones and his hands shake where they cling on to you.

And when his nimble, clever fingers drift from your back to find your nipples, thumbing them firmly, you shriek and pull on his hair so hard his head snaps back. He stares back at you with eyes of inhuman obsidian and a furious snarl on his face at being denied your body. “Gentle, please, Morpheus. Please,” You whimper, trembling in his arms from the too-intense pain and pleasure echoing through your sensitive tits.

Your chest heaves. The air is so heavy that it feels like you can’t get enough of it into your lungs. Dream makes a wordless noise of an apology before lavishing you with kisses, his lips moving with the most careful pressure across your flushed breasts. “The shore,” You plead with him. “Take me to the shore, my love.” The endearment steals out of your mouth like a thief. It’s the only thing that cuts through Dream’s lust-filled haze.

His beautiful eyes lighten from black to deep sapphire and the silvery fangs you felt earlier at your vulnerable throat retract ever so slightly.

Before you can blink, Morpheus deposits you on the shore with your back to the sand. The stars above bear witness as he kneels between your legs spread open to invite him, joy and love practically fucking radiating off of him. What he told you in the aftermath of his forced unmasking was true. He loves you. No matter what you do or say, if you cry or flee, his love only grows.

His luminous beauty is so overwhelming that it eclipses the world around you. All you see is him. You reach up to make his perfect hair messier, to bring his perfect mouth close enough for you to kiss until he’s ruined.

You push on his shoulders until he rolls over. His strong arms take you with him and help you drape yourself in his lap, grinding your dripping folds into the thick, heavy weight of his cock.

Morpheus tries to reach for your hips first but you bat his straying hands away. “My tigress,” He moans as you show him what your teeth and nails feel like digging into his alabaster skin, running over his abs, returning in abundance the bite marks and hickies he left on you. Your tongue lathes over the red and blue bruises scattered down his chest, warm and wet, and Morpheus’s heart beats so furiously that you can taste his pulse.

“Stay,” You pant as you plant one hand into his sweat-covered chest. Your lips move lower and lower, leaving kisses along the deliciously-firm ridges of muscle that jump whenever you touch them.

You give into every possible intrusive desire. Your fingers trace his hip bones, the long, elongated lines of his thighs tensing as you wander closer to his flushed, veiny dick, and up again to that muscled v at the bottom of his stomach…

“It’s yours,” Dream says hoarsely, his eyes glowing in the night. “I’m yours.”

This is your world. Your home. And your Endless. Saliva gathers under your tongue and Morpheus beckons. He’s somehow even more desperate for you to carve yourself into his body and soul than you are to wield the knife.

You hover over him, about to take him in your hand. You’ve done horrible things for Morpheus with your hands. You ended a person’s life and you’d do it again if you had to.

The tenderness in his voice makes you weep. “I love you.” He knows. You don’t have to say anything in response. You just have to be here with him and be loved.

His cock is warm in your palm, so long and thick that you have trouble understanding how Dream makes it all fit inside of you. Your tongue darts out to lick the salty precum dotted on his shaft and your cunt flexes with need. Soon, soon, you promise yourself, you’ll let him fuck you into the ground until you’ve forgotten your name.

You watch him as you start at the base, kissing your way up his cock until you reach the fat, rounded tip. Morpheus inhales sharply and a brilliant red flush colors his cheeks. You slowly envelope the head of his cock between your lips and his fingers dig into the ground, trying anything to keep him anchored.

His eyes roll back in his skull like you’re quite literally sucking the soul out of him. You briefly flirt with the idea of pulling away, of depriving Morpheus of the sweet torture that has rendered him speechless.

But since you’re his queen, you can be benevolent if you wish. You’ll make him come so hard that no other woman or goddess will ever compare. You’ve never wanted to do this with a partner as badly as you want to do it for him.

Your hand works the part of his shaft you can’t shove into your throat. You build a strong rhythm, alternating between sucking his dick and running your tongue along the underside where the taut skin is most sensitive. His cock jumps in your mouth when you flick your tongue over one particular spot. “Fuck,” He hisses. “You’re so good to me, beloved…” His needle-thin fangs erupt again, only to dig into his bottom lip. Dream grinds his hips up, forcing another inch of his cock into your sloppy mouth dripping with saliva.

Your surprised moan is completely stifled by his thick, painfully erect flesh. He laughs wickedly and finally reaches for your hair. “I know your game,” Morpheus taunts. A faint tingle of pain flashes through your scalp when he wraps your tangled tresses in his fist and takes control. Saliva runs from the corners of your stretched, bruised lips with each thrust.

His salty, musky taste is addictive and you want more, more than what he’s giving you right now. You won’t be satisfied until he’s spilling his seed down your throat.

Your nails run down his thighs, leaving angry red furrows, and you bob your head, relaxing your throat so you can take him even deeper. This god, this great and powerful creature, full of magic and fury, groans and shakes underneath you.

“Wicked creature,” Morpheus accuses between gasps for breath. You smile up at him with your mouth full before returning to your feast.

You turn your spare hand to another task. You’ve never done this before, but Morpheus inspires a boldness in you, a mindless lust for moremoremore. He grits his teeth, holding back guttural moans. You reach out to cradle his heavy balls in your palm and carefully massage them while you redouble your mouth’s efforts on his cock. Your jaw aches something fierce and you gag once, and then again.

He cries out. You can read the thoughts painted across his face. You’re his confessor and his executioner. Only you have this power over him - to bring him to the highest ecstasy or to brutally cast him out of Heaven.

Your reward is so sudden that it surprises you. All it takes to send Morpheus over the edge, into the most beautiful orgasm you’ve dragged out of him yet, is that gentle caress. His eyes widen, glistening with tears, his pupils dilate. His silver tongue has fallen silent. His face contorts in exquisite agony.

He drags you forward until your lips touch the base of his cock and comes with a low, pained groan. Salty cum floods your tongue and you pull back in surprise. His cum drips down the column of your throat and between your tits. You cough, smearing more of the mess on your cheeks.

Morpheus doesn’t give you even a moment to recover. It must be unbearable for him to be separated from you, like breathing with only one lung instead of both. You carry half his soul. His heart beats in your chest. He kisses you and clutches your shoulders, your face. He licks his cum off your cheeks and drags his fingers through the remnants on your breasts. He brings his fingers to your swollen lips. You open your mouth even as your jaw protests and let him feed you his cum. Not a single drop is wasted.

You suck his fingers one last time before he withdraws them. Your doe eyes stare into his lidded, pleasure-drunk gaze. Finally, you answer him. “Perhaps I’ll keep you… if you make yourself useful.” A smile blooms on his angular face, more heavenly than an archangel.

Or perhaps he’s an incubus here to enslave you. “I’ll be gentle,” He promises. Moonlight flashes off his sharp teeth. Your nerves prickle at the contrast of his sweet words against the sheer primordial force that emanates off of him. Your animal hind brain wants to flee, but the rest of you wants to give in, to reach for the bright flame of his love and let it burn you.

His palm caresses your cheek, sliding over your skin as if you’re made of the most precious silk. But you’re not silk and this is not a dream. You’re real. Flesh and bone.

You look at him through your lashes as you sink your teeth into his wrist.

Dream responds as you want him to. His pale hand, white as a sword, around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict blood flow into your brain. Your dark angel looming over you, the Endless simply taking your submission, not just demanding it.

When he guides you to lay on your back once more, you go gladly.

The stars in his irises glow as he takes in the sight of your breasts moving everytime you take a breath and your thighs slowly, slowly parting. “My poor darling, have you been this needy the whole time?” Morpheus asks in that low, raspy voice that makes your stomach twist with desire. His finger trails from your bent knee and down, down towards your inner thighs.

It feels like everything is too hot, too much. You’ve been wet since you took your clothes off, and after making him come so furiously, your pussy is practically crying for him to touch your folds, to fuck you, to remind you who you belong to.

He traces the arousal coating your cunt, playing with the slick but carefully avoiding your pussy. “Morpheus…” You moan, your nipples so hard that every gust of wind feels like the press of his mouth. Playing is a good word for it. Morpheus plays you and your body, teasing you with his hand as he wanders away from your hips and over your chubby belly, always touching, feeling.

Your back arches in the sand. He’s the only one who can do this to you, you think. The only one you’d let have you in such an open, vulnerable way.

Just when Morpheus reaches the curve of your breast, he leans over you and holds your face with both hands. “You come first.” One of his thumbs hook into your mouth and pull your jaw open. You can feel the pad of the thumb wedged against your teeth.

You feel so delicate and fragile underneath him. So helpless, like a flower he plucked from the ground. Your cunt pulses in time with your rapid heartbeats. “Heed my words. You always come first. For next time,” Morpheus commands softly. He’s dead fucking serious.

Rushing sounds fill your ears. “But-“ You murmur around his fingers. You’re dizzy, drunk on the love painted so boldly on his expression. It’s like a solar eclipse. You can’t look away. You come first. That is what would please Dream more than coming himself. You find yourself nodding along.

When he bends down to kiss your forehead, it feels like a brand. You lean into the warmth and let it soothe you. “Obey me, beloved, and you will be rewarded with anything and everything you desire.” You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth. His spit-covered thumb rests in the hollow of your throat.

Morpheus’s fangs prick your bottom lip and you whimper. It’s so easy to surrender to him and it feels so good. “Do you… enjoy that? Obeying?” He pulls away to ask with an uncharacteristic frown marring his smooth forehead.

You murmur something wordless and begging, then loop your hands around his neck, urging him to return to you. He raises a single eyebrow until finally, you turn your attention to the question instead of pouting over his reluctance to kiss you. “I do. I really- I think I do,” You whisper.

It’s the truth. It feels right. And for the most part- if you’re honest with yourself, for the most part, Dream has never failed you.

How do you reconcile these puzzle pieces together that just don’t fit? With each day, your rage and feelings of betrayal fade. Something new has been growing inside to replace it. A strange longing to throw your principles away and give in.

Morpheus nods soberly. “If you decide to keep me, Basileia, we should discuss this later, at length. I know that the relationship you expect might be different from what I can give you.”

It’s far too easy to read between the lines. “What can you give me?” You are critically, keenly aware of the implications of you asking. Why else would you want to know the conditions of a long term, most likely life-long relationship if Dream has his way, if not to seriously consider them?

Well. You’re seriously considering it.

He spreads his fingers out slightly off-center from your sternum, right over your heart. “What I’ve always given you.” He kisses the tip of your nose. Can you trust him with your heart?

Dream is trying to tell you with his actions that you can. That he wants to cradle your heart so gently and hide away where no one else can hurt it. He’d breathe fire on anyone who tried, even himself.

“Care, above all else,” He murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your hair and you gasp. He kisses your soft, delicate skin covered in goosebumps as an apology.

There are spikes of white in his irises like the points of a star. A single black eyelash rests on his cheekbone. You wipe it away with your fingers, utterly fascinated by this strange new intimacy.

It’s so lovely to feel his radiant smile with your fingertips at the same time as seeing it.

You’ve missed it.

“Tending to.” Another kiss, this one on the edge of your jaw. You blush from your scalp all the way down to your toes.

“Possession. Belonging.” His voice drops to a growl and the fingers over your heart curl into claws. Morpheus buries his face into your throat. Some of his hair gets in your mouth and you giggle as you try to pluck it out. He growls again, this time properly, when you try to dislodge him.

His torso presses yours into the sand. He’s like a tall weighted blanket hiding you from the sight of the celestial bodies above.

One of his claws moves to your waist. They open and close rhythmically. Morpheus is kneading you like a cat. “Let me be your compass so you’ll never feel lost again, let me tend to your every scraped knee and anxiety. Trust me to give you commands for your well-being and to fix things when you make mistakes.”

How long have you waited for someone to say these exact words to you? How many years have you spent dreaming about this very moment, where someone grants you your truest wish; to never have to face the world alone? Not just at your side. In front of you, leading you into the future so you have someone to follow.

Finally, he kisses your lips. A chaste, almost innocent kiss, like between a husband and wife on their wedding day. “All I need is your submission to my authority. It’s too much to ask of you at this moment, but you should know these things about me so you can make your decision in the future,” Morpheus says softly.

All he ever had to do was ask.

“We can talk about it later.” You kiss him back firmly, dragging a low moan out of him.

“You’re not opposed?” He says between kisses, between your fingers threading through his hair and his knee nudging between your legs, giving you something to grind against.

Morpheus freezes when you smile at him, as if he’s been hit by lightning. “I’m not,” You promise, your eyes shining more than they ever have before.

He exhales an amused huff. He’s laughing at himself, you realize. “Later then, my queen.” He’s been so silly and wasted so much time. You laugh too, until the two of you are just giggling helplessly in the sand.

He strokes your belly for a moment, then bends and places his cheek over the curve where your baby is growing. Crickets sing and fireflies chase each other through the night sky. Something moist touches your belly. When he lifts his head, he tries to wipe away tears before you notice. You reach for him and dab them away yourself.

“I hope the baby has your eyes,” You whisper.

Morpheus’s hands are as warm as his smile, like a little candle flame in the dark flickering on its own. “I hope the baby looks like you, so the world can see how much I love its mother.”

Maybe his smile will light your way back to each other.

His face is the first thing to shift. His gaze narrows, his mouth flattens into a severe, imperious expression. “Now, where were we?” His muscles coil and tense as he rears up on his knees. His marble skin stretches taught over his prominent bones.

You suddenly remember watching him disintegrate the nightmare that haunted you so, how Morpheus took pleasure when it screamed in pain. This is the god-king, the careless devil, the eater of worlds.

He kisses your knee while massaging the strained muscles in your calf. “You- you were… ah… Morpheus, I can’t focus when you do that.” Your voice is hushed in prayer to the only god you care for. He kisses your thigh again, slightly above your kneecap.

You spread your legs wider, wordlessly begging for more of his attention. “I was instructing you on the importance of obedience, I believe.” He blows a soft puff of air across your heated cunt, and you squirm in the sand. The cold only heightens how sensitive you are.

Morpheus leans in to lick the trail of arousal that has been steadily dripping down your thigh all evening. He laps at your skin over and over in tiny kitten licks.

He waits until you’re looking at him to moan into your skin, his eyes wild with hunger. Another, longer lap of his tongue, still holding eye contact. He can’t get enough of your juices. He wants you to know how much he wants you. Morpheus wants you to witness his devotion. Not want- he commands it.

And still, he won’t touch your pussy. “That feels so good,” You whimper. You draw your legs towards you to try and urge him towards your core. Morpheus teases his fangs along your flesh. You can feel how sharp they are, how easy it would be for him to bite and puncture your skin. He would never, but the suggestion is enough to get your blood running hot.

Morpheus rises up between your legs to grab the long column of your throat. “As much as I love your voice, right now I’d like to hear it only when you’re screaming my name. Understood? Nod for me.” Your mouth waters as you nod. “Good girl.”

You almost feel like crying. This evening has been such a fucking rollercoaster and here you are, getting dicked down for the whole world to see. And Morpheus adores you so much that he wants to possess every part of you, to make you completely beholden to his will.

He releases your throat before grasping one of your heavy tits, palming it greedily. “Your body was made to be adored by me, to be loved and worshiped,” Dream hisses. He swats at your breast, catching your painfully sensitive nipple with the tips of his fingers.

You jerk upright and moan in surprise, making an embarrassing, slutty, needy sound. Pain and pleasure radiate from your swollen nipple and as much as you want to cower away, you want Dream to do it again…

He slaps your neglected other breast and you gasp, tears finally beading in the corner of your eyes. Your cunt drips all the way down to the sand under your ass. You pant, your tits bouncing with the moment. The motion draws an equal groan out of Morpheus and the desire burning in his blue eyes frightens you.

Morpheus leans forward to capture one of your nipples between his lips. He sucks gently, flicking his tongue over the hard, pebbled bud, and you arch your back. He switches to your untouched nipple, sucking and kissing over and over as you shiver and whine beneath him. Maybe he wants to make you come like this, untouched except for the sweet torture he’s subjecting your tits to. You try to grind your hips against his leg, to give your pulsing clit some relief, but he hisses and pushes your hips down with more force than you expect. Message received, though it turns you on even more.

You’re pinned down and there’s nothing you can do but submit. “I am utterly enamored by your breasts, your rich and luscious thighs, and the feel of your soft belly under my fingertips,” Morpheus tells you when he lifts his head. His hand makes good upon his word. His fingers caress your stomach, not just the roundness of your growing baby, but the folds of skin and fat that come with a body like yours, that the rest of the world often finds unattractive.

But he is Endless. The god of dreams himself. Humanity’s mirror cut out of black glass. And your body is so desirable to him that he knocked you up the first time and fucks you like he can somehow get you more pregnant each time. Morpheus kisses the skin below your belly button and you have a feeling that tonight, the whole universe is dreaming of you.

He raises his head and reaches out his fingers to tap against your kiss-swollen lips. “Dampen these for me,” Dream orders. They’re glistening with your saliva by the time he pulls them out of your mouth.

You prop your torso up on your elbows and watch Morpheus inhale quietly as he brushes the pad of his thumb over your clit. You bite back a combined moan of relief and surprise. He does it again, waiting for your hips to jolt and your eyes to flutter. His fingers caress your slick folds, luxuriating in the volume of shiny, sticky arousal that has dripped out of you. He kneels there for a long moment, just playing with you, and your lungs seize when he lingers too long rubbing your clit.

Then Morpheus very unceremoniously shoves one of his palms under your ass, tilting your pelvis up so he can eat you out better. His tongue wanders over your clit and between the folds he was so fascinated by earlier.

You cry out into the night, looking up at the stars while Dream makes you see stars. You moan again and desperately clutch for his hair so you can grind your clit into his mouth. He mutters something to himself, completely lost under your whimpers, before slipping two long fingers into your tight cunt. He sets a fast though gentle rhythm immediately, carefully curling his fingers inside you to stroke your walls as he fucks you with them. Each one of your cries is rewarded with the hot, wet pressure of his tongue or his fingers brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you. It’s almost like Morpheus is trying to make you come faster than you ever have before-

For a single, blindingly bright moment, your lungs stop. You can’t breathe. Your stomach wrenches violently and your walls squeeze his fingers so tight they start to slip out. “Come,” Morpheus demands, his gaze furious and fixated on your slack, pleasure-drunk face. Your pussy opens for his fingers and this time his grip on your thighs is too firm to wriggle out of, forcing you headfirst into the riptide of your orgasm.

Your high-pitched scream rings in your ears and you slump into the ground, boneless and exhausted. Morpheus withdraws his fingers and licks your folds clean, shushing you when you whine from the jolts of overstimulation moving through you. You’re so tired, but it feels so good.

He leans in for one more taste. This time, you tense and push his head away. Your clit is still humming with faint, delicious aftershocks, and even his breath puffing across your swollen folds is painful. Morpheus apologetically kisses your hip. “I could spend eons buried between your legs. Tasting you, touching you, inside of you. Perhaps I should relinquish the Dreaming to some other god so I can spend the rest of eternity serving you, hm? Would my queen enjoy that?”

Pebbles and sand dig into your back but you barely notice. You’re too busy blushing the darkest shade of red possible at the vivid imagery and his unrepentant lust. His smile is wicked. You’re both thinking the exact same thing - you perched on the throne next time, and Morpheus making you come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you can. Knowing him, probably until you black out.

You open your mouth to say something, but his command from earlier holds fast. You want to obey.

Then he nods, releasing you from it.

“Holy shit, I’ve never come that quickly before,” You sigh.

Morpheus straightens up and squares his shoulders. “I know,” He fires back with a lewd smirk, his lips still damp with your juices. Morpheus moans softly as you kiss him. You sweep the rest of your arousal off of his lips with your tongue, your own salty taste filling your senses.

You understand all those little offhand quips now, all the various odd remarks under Dream’s breath about your life and dreams. He knows. Literally. He has stood there in the back of your dreams and watched.

His cock is angrily hard against his pale thigh, flushed red with blood. Morpheus likes to watch. A shiver runs through you. Not a bad one. An eager one. “Fuck you,” You bite back. He’s never looked more beautiful to you, all messy dark hair and your crimson love bites dotting his pale skin.

After too many drawn-out whines and your hands eagerly tugging at his hips, much too far away from yours, Morpheus holds your thighs down. If you were more flexible, you’d have your knees pushed up to your tits.

Starlight shines between strands of his hair, surrounding his face like a dark halo.

Your lips part, wordlessly begging for a kiss. His broad shoulders press you further into the soft sand and he kisses you with fervor. “Be good,” Dream murmurs into your ear.

He eases his cock inside of you slowly. You gasp, your eyelids flutter. He rests his head against your temple, panting as your muscles flutter around his length. His hips cant forward again, nudging your clit. You clutch his shoulders to drag him deeper into your embrace. Your whole world narrows to just Morpheus; the weight of him against your ribs, the whole night sky contained in his eyes, the scent of his skin, his thick cock sinking as deep into your cunt as it can go.

You make a choked, keening noise when he shifts and inadvertently brushes against your g-spot. Maybe not so inadvertently. Morpheus does it again, languidly rolling his hips in a drawn out rhythm. Your stretched cunt milks him, trying to keep him with you, inside of you.

He buries his face in your hair spread out under your head. You feel his moans rumble in the crook of your neck, deep and desperate. It’s too much, too good, like blue flame burning in your veins, and you can practically feel him in your belly.

“Morpheus,” you sob, raking your fingernails down his back, anything to ground you, to keep you from losing your mind as he fucks you, forcing you to feel every inch sliding in and out.

Dream growls, gripping your hips so tightly he’ll leave faint bruises. He rests his forehead on your own and his eyes are screwed shut with pleasure. They shoot open when you scream, your whole body trembling. “Tight, fuck, so tight, feels good- that’s it, darling…” You hear him murmur, voice so low that he’s talking more to himself than to you. It’s like he’s praying to you, worshiping you at the altar of your body.

You spread your legs wider and meet each thrust, moaning in unison with him. The words “Love you-“ steal from your mouth like a thief, fleeing before you register they’re gone.

One of his hands slips between your hips to play with your needy clit. He circles the pads of his fingers over and over across your bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your whole body. The full length of his dick thrusts into you at the same exact time and you forget how to breathe; you can feel how tight the fit is, almost painful but not quite, riding that razor-thin edge of pleasure. A rush of slick gushes from your core and smears onto his skin.

Your head lolls back as your vision starts to go hazy around the edges. “Look at me,” Morpheus’s voice orders. You blink once, twice, too overstimulated to focus.

“Morpheus-“ You sigh breathily. “Ah-“ He switches how he plays with your clit, now teasing you with light, gentle touches so you can listen to him instead of being too cockdrunk to think.

Your lips parts, your tongue tastes the hot, tropical air filled with moans and lust. “Look at me.” You do. His eyes are so blue and bright that they almost blind you. His thrusts grow rougher, faster, and you shake in his embrace and wrap one of your legs around his hips to get closer.

The great, deep blue of the night sky, scattered with stars, is pinning you down and kissing your mouth. The wine-dark ocean lies between your thighs and fucks you mindless, pushing and pulling inside you like the tide.

High, keening noises fall from your open mouth. Your cunt sucks him in, pulsing around his length. Pleasure wracks your body, rushing through your nerves like white lightning. And still you stare up at him and the love for you that he wears so raw and undisguised on his godlike, unfathomably beautiful face.

You’re so close that you can almost taste it, you feel your stomach wrench and your thighs tighten around his hips. “Fuck, that’s it, make yourself feel good. Take what you need.” The sound of his low, raspy voice in your ear guiding you, talking you through it, tips you over the delicious, overwhelming edge.

Every muscle in your body holds itself taut as your orgasm shakes you like an earthquake. You bite into his shoulder hard enough to fill your mouth with golden blood. Your lungs fucking ache from screaming into his skin. He holds your hips down, never pausing the furious pace of his thrusts, and your cunt convulses once, twice. Your mind goes foggy and finally, finally, you can breathe again.

Morpheus comes as your body unlocks, the feeling of your pleasure around his cock too much for his self-control. He clutches onto you desperately, even tilts his head to the side to welcome your bite. Sticky warmth floods your body, once more marking you as his. Hardly a single drop of cum trickles from where he’s buried deep inside of you.

You whine as he suddenly pulls away from you, only to arrange himself on the beach next to you so he doesn’t squish your bump further. You rest your head on Morpheus’s arm and the two of you lie there for a while with intertwined hands as his index finger traces the veins on the back of your hand. The breeze feels cool on your skin - the feverish tropical heat has broken its grasp on your mind and your thoughts are no longer clouded and instinct-driven.

Dream speaks softly, almost fearfully quiet. “You said you loved me.” His fingertip stills where it is on your hand, and you keenly feel the loss of that simple affectionate gesture.

“I…” You begin before stopping just as suddenly. White noise echoes in your ears, a strange buzzing that grows and grows and keeps you from turning to see his face. You’re afraid, you realize.

“If you do not truly feel that way, don’t say it. Ever again. Please. I can’t-“ His voice breaks, breaking the static holding your tongue prisoner with it.

What are you afraid of? The truth?

No, you are not.

You pull your hand away from his. “Morpheus.” When you meet his eyes, he looks away.

He’s rambling now, panicked, rushing to get the words out before it’s too late. “I couldn’t bear it. Anything else. Tell me anything else.”

It’s not too late.

Your hand cradles his angular cheek. Pale blue veins stretch under his skin from his eye to his temple. You are the only person he will let close enough to see them, you realize. “I love you,” You say, waiting long enough to see Morpheus actually register it before leaning in to kiss him. You mean it, cross your heart.

YAAAY WE'RE IN THE KISS AND MAKE UP ERA NOW!!! Thanks everyone so much for reading, we're finally making progress. I'm really excited for what's coming next. See y'all next year!

#treehouse #the sandman #sandman #the sandman comics #sandman comics #the sandman dc #sandman dc #sandman netflix #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless x you #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus #lord morpheus x you #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x reader

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maya-chirps · 1 year ago

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Celebrating Christmas in the Philippines: The Christmas Capital of Asia (Part 1)

A store in the Philippines that sells Filipino Christmas decorations sourced AFP Photo/Noel Celis, posted by Ana Catalina Paje (2021) via Yahoo! News

Filipino Christmas is notorious worldwide for being some of the longest celebrations of the holiday in the world. Often said to start on the month of September and ending at around February, being the main event for almost half the year is nothing to sneeze at. Even with this, how much do you know about Filipino Christmas exactly?

Just like all Christmas traditions from all around the world, the Filipino way is rooted in long tradition and history that stems from colonial, and postcolonial practices that continue to evolve into the present day with many more additions in the future.

Before I start

As usual, it is important for me to recognize that the Philippines is a diverse country with different cultures, traditions, and histories with each community having their own unique practices and experiences with the holidays. There is no way for me to fully encompass every single experience that every Filipino has for this holiday as well as the experiences of those who don't even celebrate the holiday. This is besides the fact that uncovering sources for more specific traditions or practices may be either difficult or impossible for me to access easily.

I also want to note that not all Filipinos celebrate Christmas such as Filipinos of different religious backgrounds such as Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist Filipinos, or of different denominations that may not celebrate Christmas such as members of some Protestant denominations.

I also had to split up this post into two parts because Tumblr wouldn't let me make extremely long posts. Part 2 is linked here.

With that being said, feel free to add your own stories and experiences to this post if you have any to share or even information that I may not had discussed at all.

(This was supposed to go live on the 25th but it got delays because of personal stuff sowwyyyy. I'll just reblog this for next year too lol)

Etymology

In the Philippines, Christmas is primarily called pasko with the season itself called kapaskuhan . It comes from the Spanish word pascua, from the phrase pascua de navidad. Pascua comes from the Latin pascha which then comes from the Greek πάσχα (páskha) which then came from Hebrew's פסח (pesach) originally referred specifically to Passover (Vivas, 2021).

From pascua and, by extension, pasko's usage to refer to Easter (i.e. pascua de resurrección and pasko ng pagkabuhay respectively), the word was then later used to refer to Christmas (i.e. pascua de navidad) as the word often referred to the celebratory aspect of the holiday. The Spanish brought over the dual usage of the term for both holidays during the colonial period.

Certain variations of the word around the country typically follow the same root with pasku or pascu being used in Kapampangan, a closely related language to Tagalog, and some other languages keeping the usage of pascua like the Spanish creole language of Chavacano.

Filipinos today often interchange the usage of pasko and Christmas when discussing the holiday, and sometimes may use an informal Filipinized spelling of Christmas as krismas by spelling the English word by sound (a trait of a lot of Filipino languages) which mimics a Filipino accent but I honestly had not seen this in a while.

History

Surprisingly,according to legend, the story of Christmas in the Philippines doesn't start on 1521, the year Ferdinand Magellan landed on the island of Cebu, nor the subsequent years after that, but on 1324, nearly 200 years before the Spanish came anywhere close to the Philippines islands.

In an old church called Saint James the Great Parish Church found in Bolinao, Pangasinan, exists a marker that makes the interesting claim that the first mass, and by extension the first mass in the history of the Philippines took place in the very place where the church now stood as a thanksgiving mass for their safe landing on the island (Sotelo, 2015). Ocampo (2012) states that there had been claims within Pangasinan folk legends that this first mass was also specifically the first Christmas mass that had taken place in the history of the Philippines which had embedded itself on the town of Bolinao's folklore.

A photo of the plaque found in St. James the Great Parish, Bolinao, Pangasinan showing Fr. Odorico posted by Vera Bajado (2021) via TripAdvisor

The story goes that on a stormy night, during his missionary travels to Asia, Italian Franciscan friar and missionary Blessed Fr. Odorico of Pordenone landed on the islands to take refuge in the town to wait for the rains to pass. It is said that they had met "hostile natives" who later changed their disposition after he proved himself harmless. He later celebrated the mass with his crew and the locals, people attributing these events to have taken place on the 25th of December (Yuvallos, n.d.). The full text for the marker that relays this story was transcribed by the blog Vagabonding with Chu (2017) and reads:

"Blessed Odorico From Friuli (Italy) Franciscan Missionary Born in Pordenone (Italy) around 1275 A.D. – Father Odorico, a courageous and religious Franciscan missionary pioneered the spread of the Gospel in Asia and China. He traveled always barefooted among indescribable difficulties and dangers exhausting his energies in the service of the Kingdom of God. In 1324, after landing and taking refuge in Bolinao, Pangasinan during a stormy weather, Father Odorico celebrated a thanksgiving Mass in honor of their safe journey and his mission. He also indocrinated and baptized many of the Malay immigrants in Bolinao. He returned home to Udine (Friuli) Italy after thirteen years mission. He died a holy death on January 14, 1331. His precious remains are kept in an artistic tomb of the parish church of our Lady of Mount Carmel, in Udine (Italy). Blessed Odorico, Pray for Us." - Marker in front of St. James the Great Parish Church

This claim is contested by historians including Ocampo (2012) who even adds that the additional parts of the story makes it much more unbelievable such as the claim that Fr. Odorico also planted the first Christmas tree which had not been a popular Christmas staple until the 19th Century. The National Historical Commission of the Philippines later affirms that the first mass did not in fact take place on Bolinao, Pangasinan but on Limasawa, Southern Leyte on Easter Sunday 1521 (Yumol, 2020).

The first Christmas mass most likely happened either a little after this time with a celebration possibly taking place during the stay of Miguel Lopez de Legaspi when arrived in the Philippines in an effort to start colonizing the islands. He was able to establish a Spanish settlement called the Villa del Santisimo Nombre de Jesús where he and his men lived in from 1565 - 1569 where celebrations for Christmas definitely must have taken place. The last of the Spanish forces in the country had also, incidentally, left from Cebu on Christmas day 1898 (The Freeman, 2021).

An old map of Villa del Santisimo Nombre de Jesús, now modern day Cebu posted by the Basilica Minore del Sto. Niño de Cebu (2017).

A lot of older traditions persist to the present day but the more modern-looking Christmas, much like in other Western Christian countries didn't become as popular until the late 19th to early 20th Century coming mostly from other European and American influences.

Traditions such as the Christmas tree had not existed in Filipino Christmas celebrations until the late 19th century, with the first seen mentions of it in the writings of Dr. José Rizal both in his translation of Hans Christian Andersen's work as well as a letter he had wrote home from Berlin to his sister Saturnina, who was called Neneng, and her husband Manuel, who was called Maneng, where he translates a story about a sad pine tree with the words"Ang Puno ng Pino" (en. The Pine Tree) next to two drawings of Christmas trees, Ocampo (2012) writes.

Ocampo continues to explain how Rizal wrote about the many German traditions that he had encountered in Berlin, including the decorating of a pine tree for Christmas. Ocampo later transcribes this letter in his article:

"There are some beautiful and good [German] customs, like Christmas, which gives me pleasure to describe here for it is not found in Spain and you have not read about it in Spanish books. On Christmas Eve they bring from the forest a pine tree, and this tree is chosen because, besides being erect, it is the only tree that keeps its leaves during winter—I say it badly; not really leaves, but a kind of needle. It is decorated with tinsel, paper, lights, dolls, candy, fruits, dainties, etc., and at night time, it is shown to the children (who should see the preparation of it), and around this tree the family celebrates Christmas." - Dr. José Rizal in a letter to his sister Saturnina Rizal and her husband Manuel Hidalgo (Ocampo, 2012)

The Christmas tree, however, didn't become fashionable for the wider public's own Christmas celebrations until the arrival of the Americans, of which brought their own American traditions to the Philippines.

Ocampo continues to write that Rizal compared the customs of Germans and the Spanish and said that the Spanish holiday gets ruined because of too much praying. Rizal states that the Germans and those of Northern Europe, celebrate with the idea of preserving some level of childhood innocence and allow children to play unlike the Spanish which he describes as a much more crass culture who don't allow much play for the season and instead make these children pray during the holiday. Ocampo continues to transcribe:

"... the Spaniards do not indulge in poems for children and young people, or as the vulgar expression goes, they do not beat around the bush. They attend more to the positive, or the stomach. And Carambas! they would say; let us amuse ourselves and let children and young people seek their own amusement as best they can. They do seek their own diversion, with the result that the children and young people in Spain lack the charming innocence and candor of those in the North [of Europe], without malice, without great preoccupations (...) This is because here [in Germany] they know how to give age its due, unlike in other countries where children are not allowed to be themselves, to make noise or to play. Instead, they are made to recite the rosary and novena until the poor youngsters become very sleepy and understand nothing of what is going on (...)" - Dr. José Rizal comparing German and Spanish Christmas customs in his letter to his sister Saturnina and her husband Manuel (Ocampo, 2012).

This aligns with the shift in most Western Christian societies from viewing children (mostly white children) as sinful or ignorant smaller adults to a more romanticized ideal of innocence, allowing children more time for play with less responsibilities that wasn't afforded to them in the previous centuries. The romanticized view of childhood shifted the focus of Christmas on prayer and generosity to be more family, and more specifically, child-centered (Cecire, 2020). This was especially true for more industrialized countries of the time including late 19th Century Germany, of which Rizal was living in during the time he sent that letter to his sister and brother-in-law.

Photograph of the "exhibition of Christmas trees"; at Maryknoll Normal College which features students from the 1930s showing off their Christmas trees that they had created during an art class with Sr. Caritas in the center and art teacher Miss Cristobal at the left-side of the photo at the back. The image was sourced from the University of Southern California Libraries' International Mission Photography Archive, ca.1860-ca.1960, Maryknoll Mission Archives posted by John Tewell (2016) via Flickr.

Filipino Christmas continued to be influenced by non-Hispanic Western Christian countries with the turn of the century and the start of the American colonial era. Traditions like greeting cards which the Americans introduced popularized the figure of Santa Claus and white snow as strong associations with the holiday despite the Philippines never experiencing any snow in its entire history (Roa, 2017).

After the American occupation, Filipino Christmas continued to develop into the modern day adding new traditions stemming from older ones, continuing to change and grow even today.

(Part 2: Practices in the Present Day)

(Reference List)

#mayaposts #mayapino #filipino #philippines #filipino culture #christmas #filipino christmas #history #filipino history #christianity #christian history #traditions #christmas traditions #filipino christmas traditions #colonial history #spanish colonial history #american colonial history #long post

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