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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 2 years ago

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𓅨 Fortuna: Chapter Five

Fortuna: Born with what seemed to be the worst luck in the world, you have managed to get into, and out of, life-threatening situations all your life. That is until the plague of 1514. You had escaped Mother Death countless times before, but not this time. Mother Death has taken a liking to you, and with your kindling relationship, you become that which historians whisper about. You are the great Fortuna, Goddess Incarnate of luck, and ruler over fortune and fate. No one could have anticipated what your ties with Death would bring you: Pain. Torture. Death. Love.

Warnings: Emotional Breakdown, That Scene, Blood, Murder, Gore, Death.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x ImmortalSpanish!Reader, Reader’s nickname is Fortuna. Fortuna is the Roman Goddess of personified luck and ruler over fortune and fate.

Word Count: ~2.0k

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1926

You were picking wildflowers in the field just past your village, placing them in the basket you had brought with you upon departing from your cottage. You had tulips, gladiolus, and lavender… at the moment you were picking honeysuckle. It smelled heavenly and brought a smile to your lips from the memories of your mother filling the cottage with bunches of sweet-smelling flowers. You placed the honeysuckle in your basket and rose to your feet, basket in hand. As you turned back towards the village, one of the little girls in the village ran up to you. Her face was dirty and her dress ripped, but the smile on her face shone so brightly it rivaled that light of the sun. Peering down at her, you raised your eyebrow.

“Please tell me you weren’t roughhousing with the boys again, Sofía,” You chided her, eyeing the rips on her dress more closely. “You know your mother can’t keep sewing your kirtle back together, she struggles enough with your brothers outgrowing their clothing.” Sofía kicked out her barefoot and didn’t look the least apologetic. You took that as a yes, she had been roughhousing with the boys again, but the stubborn little girl was not going to apologize for it. She reminded you of yourself.

“Alejandro and Javier said I couldn’t play with them because I wouldn’t be able to keep up… so I proved them wrong.” Ah, yes, that would do it. Sofía, when told she couldn’t do something, tended to do it anyways just to prove that she could. You set the basket of flowers down and tried to neaten Sofía’s hair a little so her mother wouldn’t be as cross… but there wasn’t much you could do about her ripped dress. You looked up into Sofía’s brown eyes with your eyebrows raised.

“I think your brothers were taunting you, Sofía,” She scowled at you and you chuckled. Then your eyes caught sight of someone leaning against one of the buildings in the village, watching you. You looked back to Sofía and held her hands. “Why don’t you run home before you get into any more trouble and give your mother even more grey hairs, yes?” Sofía huffed, but agreed and darted off. You picked up your basket of flowers and walked over to where Morpheus was leaning. “You know you could say hello, she doesn’t bite… that much.” Morpheus chuckled at your words and raised a dark eyebrow.

“I could, but I enjoy watching you with the little ones.” He slowly drew out, his lips twitching and his voice, once again, making you shiver in delight. That was a secret of yours you were bound and determined to keep: you loved his voice. It was his secret vice to just watch you putter around your dream in happiness. Your smile was blinding and he had long since fallen in love with it. Well, he had long since fallen in love with you. You gave Morpheus a frank snort and tapped your basket absentmindedly.

“Alright then, stay in your shadows, Dream Lord,” You teased him. “I would offer you coffee to drink but seeing as you never actually drink any…” Morpheus smirked at your jab.

“I do not need sustenance, Fortuna,” You rolled your eyes and mumbled under your breath about his rather unadventurous lifestyle. Your muttered words only amused Morpheus further as he followed you back to your cottage, in stride with yours. Entering the cottage, you set the basket of flowers on the kitchen table and started gathering a bunch to put into a glass. They would be a nice addition to your simple kitchen. As you did so, Morpheus watched you carefully, noting that ever so often your face would scrunch in slight pain and you would shift your weight. He dropped his eyes to your hidden ankle. Even in dreams the old wound still gave you grief. “Fortuna,” He broached. You paused what you were doing and looked at him in curiosity.

“Is something wrong, Morpheus?” Morpheus tilted his head to the side and eyed the lone chair in the room.

“I should like you to sit down.” He spoke. You didn’t need to question why he asked you such a question. There wasn’t anything you could hide from him. So setting the flowers down, you made a spectacle of sitting down as asked, exaggerating your movement. Morpheus raised an eyebrow at you, amused by your response. Once seated, you tilted your head to the side and smiled innocently.

“Is there anything else you should like me to do, my lord?” Morpheus chuckled at your facetious comment.

“I fear you have been on your ankle far too long,” Morpheus spoke, lowering himself to one knee and reaching for your aching limb. He pulled your foot free of your skirts and lightly ran his fingers over your scarred flesh. His touch eased the ache and you sighed. “You should be taking more breaks, do not cause yourself pain you do not need to suffer,” Morpheus said, his star-like eyes peering into yours. You chewed on the edge of your lip and looked back down at the ankle he held.

“Well I’m not doing it on purpos—“ You were jarred from your dream, jerking slightly in Morpheus’s arms. Your head, which had been resting on his shoulder as you slept, lifted as you blinked in confusion. What caused you to wake up? You had slept like a rock in the past decade thanks to Morpheus. Not only did he cradle you gently within his arms day and night, but he kept you from turning to ice with his body heat. You had no idea how he stayed so warm in the cold basement, never seeming to be affected by the environment you both were stuck in. Morpheus had also long since adopted a grasp on your body to give you the best chance of modesty from the guards that constantly watched you both.

In the ten years, you had been trapped with Morpheus, your ankle had healed, leaving you with an unsightly scar wrapping around the circumference of your skin, and your relationship with the Endless had been kindled to one strong enough that he had asked you to call him Morpheus. You did, and it was perhaps one of the few things that brought a smile to his lips during your dreams. In fact, you were the only thing that

gave the Endless any type of positive feeling. Your burning refusal to bow to Roderick Burgess was inspiring and commendable, but the longer you remained trapped, the less your eyes glowed with fire. Morpheus could see the flames of fight in you slowly dying. The confines of the glass cage were taking their toll.

You looked around in confusion, wondering what had disturbed you from your sleep, but then you realized that Morpheus was staring at something. At the metal gates across the moat, perched on forged iron, was a black bird with a swatch of white. No, this was no blackbird, this was a raven. Morpheus’s raven, Jessamy. You scrambled out of Morpheus’s arms and stood up, your hands pressing against the glass as Jessamy swooped through the grates in the gate. Then Jessamy fluttered up to the top of the glass cage and started viciously banging against it with her beak. Morpheus rose to his feet behind you, the heat from his skin pressing into your back. Hope bloomed in your chest for the first time since your capture and you pressed your palm over the place the raven repeatedly pecked at.

“Pajarito, me alegra verte,” (Little bird, I'm glad to see you.) You whispered against the glass, little black eyes staring into yours as Jessamy hit the glass harder. Over and over and over again. You felt Morpheus place a hand on your hip, you could even feel his hope radiating from his body. But just as suddenly as your hope had come, it was taken away from your most violently. A gunshot rang out and Jessamy exploded, painting the glass in front of you with crimson and onyx. You jerked back with a choked gasp, violently colliding into Morpheus, who caught and supported your shaking body. For a few moments you felt like you couldn’t breathe, then your eyes burned viciously and the first of many tears to come started to fall. Jessamy, little beautiful Jessamy, now lay dead on the binding circle. You thought you might throw up and twist around, flinging yourself into Morpheus’s chest and holding onto him for dear life as you tried to stifle the sobs emerging from your mouth.

Morpheus’s grip on your body tightened as he felt your hot tears drip onto his skin, he could feel his own as he stared down at all that remained of his beloved raven, Jessamy. He wished he could feel something at this moment, even if it was upset or distress like you, anything but this taxing and void feeling of nothingness. Shock. He was definitely feeling shocked to the point of nearly not understanding what had just happened.

“You idiot! You could have shattered the glass!” The voice of Roderick Burgess was explosive in the deathly quiet of the room. You flinched at his voice, digging your fingers into Morpheus’s back and holding him that much tighter. The pain you felt had to be a thousand times worse for Morpheus. Morpheus sank back down to the base of the cage, carefully collecting your shaking body. Your trembles, shakes, and hiccups continued as Morpheus pressed his face into your hair. Your tears were endless against his skin, and it was only when you had cried yourself to sleep that your body finally relaxed. Morpheus was quick to join you in your dreams, needing your comfort just as much as you needed his. It became obvious that you were nowhere near your usual spots.

The fields were empty, the church as well, the village square with its foundation was devoid of life… Morpheus could only surmise that you had holed yourself up in your cottage. Pushing the door to your cottage open, Morpheus stepped inside to see your chair lying on its side and the glass of flowers spilled on the floor, you were nowhere in the main living area. You could only be in one place: your bedroom. Morpheus pushed the door open quietly and found you curled up in a ball on your bed, your fingers digging into your scalp in a white-knuckled grip. You were sobbing in despair and utter devastation. He could feel the rippling waves of guilt that burned in your veins and the pain you currently felt in your heart was worse than anything you had felt before. He called your name, and you shriveled in a tighter circle.

“Fortuna,” Morpheus called again, his hands begging to wrap around your body for an ounce of the comfort you carried.

“Traigo la muerte,” (I bring death.) You whispered out, fully believing your words. Morpheus walked forwards and wrapped his arms around your curled body, his hands searching for yours. He found them and wove his fingers with yours.

“You do not bring death, Y/N,” He said softly, his face burying into the back of your neck. It was rare that he called you by your birth name. Actually, you couldn’t even remember the last time someone had called you by it. You were Fortuna now, the Goddess Incarnate, your mortal life, and name long since dead. Your hands trembled violently around his and you shook your head furiously.

“How do you think I became friends with Mother Death!?” You exclaimed, more tears leaking from your eyes and dribbling down your already tear-streaked face. “I am a harbinger of death, Morpheus.” Morpheus breathed in the scent of your perfumed skin, determined not to let you fall into despair.

“A harbinger of death does not possess a smile as radiant as yours, nor is it as compassionate as you are. You are exactly as you appear to be,” Morpheus murmured, holding you tighter and soaking in the comfort of your soft body.

“And what is that?”

“A Goddess,” He gently whispered to you. That night you spent wrapped around each other, endless tears falling from your eyes.

Date Published: 11/27/22

Last Edit: 11/27/22

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#morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman netflix

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conradrasputin · 2 years ago

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scraps of an idea I’m stuck on

gonna really au/bend canon quite a bit; Logan meets what he thinks are two twins but they’re actually escapees of the test tube baby biological military weapons program (an early variation of what happened a la ‘Logan’ film). Cory would be the actual original born mutant (edit his eyes to Sandman teeth eyes upper right btw), part of the subdivision experiments, ‘The Morpheus project’ (see what I did there, ooh subtle), with strength and the power to enter people’s dreams and hunt them in their newly turned nightmares. Still bitter because he recollects the dark haired scientist that he followed since he could remember, who called him his greatest creation, and gladly assisted every experiment, only to be abandoned when he starts harming the guards in real life instead of in their dreams (wasn’t this what he was designed to do?)

Donald is a clone of Cory, from an attempt to alter mutant dna, into human dna. Almost 100% physical copy of young Cory but he comes out missing one hand. He’s almost terminated then and there, except they find he’s strong and has a mild control over technology which keeps the scientists interested (a power I kinda garner from wiki, but tbh the comic is a lot less interesting than the movie/what Bunny is doing) Donald’s clone birth came into the picture after Cory was acting up and his creator abandoned him. Donald takes to Cory right away, and Cory may be pissy, but when Donald tears the tongue out of another scientist with his teeth when they try to sedate Cory, he warms up to him.

So something something these twinks escape the facility in glorified violence and make their way into the world, tasting life one daddy (and daddy eyeballs) at a time. Donald cuts his blond locks short and dyes Cory’s hair pink when he convinces Cory it’ll double the eyeballs that’ll look at them. They hitchhike and travel all over with their tight clothes and bright lips, Cory in sunglasses for obvious reasons, Donald with stolen prescription lenses for his mildly defective blurry vision from his cloning. They’re making their usual bar daddy run to see who can treat them to a decent meal and fuck before Cory can get his eyeball dessert.

Enter this BUILT dilf with the handlebar sideburns who isn’t even LOOKING at them, just nursing his drink and cigar, his muscles obvious under his clothes, and his huge bulge even more obvious. Cory’s interested, but he can see Donald is a GONER, taking Cory to a dark corner ‘that one, I want to KEEP that one!’ and Cory’s a bit pouty because how is this going to work with his very obvious mutation behind his sunglasses plus he wanted his ocular dessert, but hey, there’s always a chance this buff daddy will be a bad lay and he can get rid of him (although he doubts it the way those muscles are coiled up.) He agrees, with Donald lifting Cory’s sunglasses up so he can give a sweet affectionate kiss to each mouth.

Donald goes in first, and it’s a laugh, the guy is still only looking at his drink and every pissy remark waved with his cigar is having Donald making involuntary horny squeaks, not becoming of his dilf seducing abilities. Cory decides to jump in and cut the shit, full out asks whether or not this guy wants to work out his frustrations in a fuck, or in a fight? The guy actually looks up to scoff and stops short when he gets a proper look at them. Donald’s all flushed and blushy with his red mouth open in embarrassment and Cory’s mouth is at full pissed off pink pout and giving a waiting stare behind his shades. The guy takes a moment, a real quick stock to ask himself if he’s a fucking idiot in more than one way, and says ‘Alright. I got a room.’

‘Well how wonderful. Lead the way’ Cory drawls, all sarcastic southern belle, and the guy is clearly realizing the similarities in their looks and vocal twangs. ‘You guys twins?’ and Cory could tell it wouldn’t matter, given the guy’s growing package starting to strain loudly against his belt.

‘The answer ranges from, it’s complicated, to not really,’ Donald adds with his own drawl, getting back into his groove, ‘but how about you take off our clothes and find out?’

The guy grunts and reigns in the urge to heave both of them up and over his shoulders to his room. Donald reigns in nothing and finally settles onto his lap.’You got a name daddy?’ moving his hips up and down.

‘Logan.’ and he hungrily licks into Donald’s mouth and pins one huge arm around his waist, using his other arm to drag Cory closer. Cory doesn’t have time to appreciate it because his shades fall off from the force. Logan turns a lustful gaze at him before freezing and everything is still.

It’s dark in their corner of the bar, but Logan can clearly see all three sets of Cory’s teeth. Donald is reluctantly braced to end this night badly, but Logan takes a breath and strokes a gentler hand on Cory’s face. Cory’s still startled and even more so when Logan brings his own hand out of the way and watches sharp steel start protruding into full claws that look like they could tear him to shreds.

‘We all have our secrets.’ Logan says, before they slide back. . Donald slides off Logan’s lap and puts Cory’s sunglasses back on for him, and they’re both staring at Logan. Logan gives a grimace, tries to feel out the room. ‘...Your names?’

Donald and Cory give them, and then they’re BOTH on each side of Logan’s lap, getting their mouths wherever they can reach (and Cory’s other mouths are already drooling under the shades as well) and Logan says fuck it, and hauls them over his shoulders after all. From there it’s a frenzy to Logan’s room, with Cory and Donald realizing that while their past dilfs only handled one or the other, or only one at a time, LOGAN is taking them apart at the same time.

They’ve all torn the clothes off of each other, Cory’s shades happily lost somewhere, and the boys are slobbering their pink lips all over Logan’s cock, actually gagging when that’s NEVER happened before, licking mindlessly on Logan’s huge balls before Logan hauls them into bed and stacks them on each other to spank them red, licking and fingering their holes deep, Cory and Donald squealing until Logan lies down and arranges them on each arm, telling one of them to sit on his cock while the other can wait by sitting on his face. Donald has no dignity scrambling on top of Logan’s cock, but Cory’s not going to complain, smothering Logan’s face with his cheeks.

I’ve got no gift for smut, but ergo, one on Logan’s face, one on Logan’s knot, and you know Logan is planting his feet on the bed to take Donald on a mechanical bull ride while pinning Cory against his face to get every inch of his tongue in that bussy. Then they switch of course, and then some, and then it’s blissful post coital rubbing with Logan softly kissing them (all four mouths, to be clear.)

Cut to a post fuckfest night where for one reason or another, the boys wake up the morning after, alone because Logan probably got caught up in some deadly fight getting his boys some breakfast, and either it takes him too far way, or he wins, but either way, he feels his life is too much of a danger to put Donald and Cory in the life endangering shit he goes through too often, so he leaves them behind.

Cut to years later when the even older dilf finds out the boys have grown not only into incredibly filled out bodies, but he finds out he accidentally left a parting gift in their last meeting that have Donald and Cory put the M in Milf.

#loganxdonald #loganxcorinthian #prompt #also along with the teeth imagine the tats on mr holebrook but I needed that tit picture'#my brain could barely put this up but you get the idea'#I also have some wants to get x24 or even richard involved but it's like branch off au au #have a knot au

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kitkatpadywaks · 2 years ago

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In Another Universe

Mini-Series: Part 2/?

Welcome To Hell.

Pairing: Morpheus x Fem!Reader

Story: Dancing With The Devil (Alternate path from the end of part 2 of the story onwards)

Warnings: Third Person. Will Mostly Be Referred To As She (Called Y/N When Her Nickname IS Being Used and Will Occasionally Be Called By Her 'Angel' Name). She Has Kids. Major Daddy Issues. She's Treading on Eggshells. Her Brother Tried to Kill Her. But It's All Good Now.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Major Spoilers for the Story (Klaus Mikaelson fic), like this existing spoils the mystery of who my character is as well as her character arc.

This will also be posted to my Wattpad.

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The siblings spend the next few days laying low, after what had happened in the house they now know is called Fawney Rig, as the locals of Wych Cross so politely informed them. Those few days spent with Raphael trying to convince her it's impossible that the man in the basement is her soulmate, that her actual soulmate is dead.

Both of the Archangels thought it best to keep their heads down, as the last thing they wanted was attention, especially from their father. So they waited, waited for this universe's version of the Fates to contact them like every version always had.

It takes nearly an entire month for that to happen, long enough for the siblings to integrate themselves fully into this universe's modern-day England. Where the eldest of the siblings had befriended a young woman by the name of Johanna Constantine, who was rather skilled in the occult, which was useful in understanding how this particular world worked.

She looks out of the window of the living room of the small two-bedroom apartment, she and her brother share, waiting for Raphael to come back from drinking with some history professor he met the other day, who he called his friend but she thought his eyes lit up a little too bright for their relationship to be just friends.

The Angel eyes the three women who appeared and introduced themselves as the Kindly Ones, briefly wondering if her little brother found himself in the same situation she has. If they had both found their soulmates in an entirely different universe and if these, Kindly Ones had anything to do with it, if they even had that power. The Maiden smiles prettily at her. Something she might have found attractive and done something about once upon a time if she wasn't thinking so much about the man she released from the glass prison.

Keys jingle in the kitchen and the apartment's door swings open. "Sister, I'm home." The slurred voice of Raphael echoes in the nearly bare apartment. She doesn't answer, letting him enjoy his buzz a little while longer as she turns to stare at the Fates. She watches in her peripheral as her brother enters the living room, the setting sun illuminating his face as he sobers up at the sight of the three women, knowing the last month of fun had come to an end.

"Ladies." He nods politely.

"Okay, so Raph's here. What did you want to tell us?" Raphael throws her a glare, knowing from experience that her clipped tone tends to incite anger.

"Oh, such an impatient little Angel." The Crone says mockingly.

"You would be too if you had to deal with the shit I have." She rebuffs, secretly glad that they didn't take offence to her tone, as she had no idea how much power compared to the Fates she know, who, despite taking great interest in the fate of their universe, couldn't do much in the grand scheme of things.

The Maiden giggles, "The Dream Lord will have fun with you."

She raises an eyebrow in response, throwing Raphael a look to take lead and get what they need, before zoning out to get a better grip on her emotions. Which have been spiralling since she entered this universe, not helped by her lack of sleep. Even though she didn't technically need any, sleep tended to be a good way of resetting herself, but unfortunately, like many other things, her father had taken that luxury away from her. The curse he plagued her with over two thousand years ago was always threatening to drag her back to her own personal hell, ironically. Getting her father to break her curse, which even the combination of Heaven and the few million angels that live there couldn't fully do, was one of the main reasons she was on this mission. The other was making sure he wouldn't come back and kill her daughters, but that was a whole other thing.

"We appreciate your help, Kindly Ones." Raphael inclines his head in respect. She does the same, ignoring the Crone's knowing look. The Kindly Ones realised she wasn't listening to anything that was being said the moment Raphael started talking.

Raphael waits for the Kindly Ones to leave, to disappear into thin air before hitting his sister's arm. "You're lucky they seemed to be in a good mood." He huffs, flopping down onto the large sofa they somehow managed to squeeze into the apartment.

"Sorry." She shrugs, genuine despite her nonchalance, "So what are we doing then?"

She watches Raphael heave a sigh, "I have to visit Heaven to talk to..." he hesitates, trying to find a way not to say their father's name "this universe's version of our father, myself and our siblings." He lists off while staring at the ceiling.

"Let me guess, I have to go to Hell." She smiles ruefully as Raphael turns his head to look at her, nodding.

"Then we have to talk to one of the Endless."

"The Endless?"

Raphael shrugs, "Your guess is as good as mine."

"Does this 'Endless' have a name?"

"Umm, Dream? I think they said." He shrugs again.

She didn't miss the cold. The kind of cold that soaked into your bones and paralysed you. She didn't miss the moans of pain or the screams of the damned. She didn't miss any aspect of Hell. This version anyway, her version had undergone some serious changes in the last twenty years, starting when she was taken out of her curse to what it was when she left it in the capable hand of Lilith, the person or, Demon best suited to the new job, better than she ever was.

She breathes in the scent of sulphur as she walks behind the Demon escorting her to the palace, the building in question looming over her as they walk up to the gates. The Demon, whose name she didn't pay attention to, grins a cruel smile at her as the doors open and blood spills out. She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Making the Demon growl in disappointment as she walks through the blood and the doorway. She continues walking further into the palace, the Demon's murmured taunts getting quieter the longer she walks. Taking in how different her Hell's palace looks compared to this one, the dark wood and red velvet of the palace she knows are much more welcoming than the black rock and the abundance of questionable liquids she'd rather not put a name to.

She follows the path and turns the corner, coming face to face with a new Demon, her face, half beautiful-half charred to the bone. She nods politely as the Demon gestures for her to enter a room ringed with black marble columns. She walks into the room, stopping in front of the fire in the centre of the room, opposite this universe's version of her. Whose black, bat-like wings sit against the white-clad back of the Devil of this universe.

"And who are you?" The angelic voice of Lucifer Morningstar reaches her ears, making her back straighten at the thinly veiled anger at her unannounced arrival.

"Do you want the long answer or the short one?" She can't help but taunt, even if she might be in danger, as there was no telling how their power compared to her own.

The Devil's entire body whips around to face her, quickly taking in the intruders appearance and the sight of the hilt of a sword strapped to her back.

"Who do you think you are?..."

"You." She interrupts, smirking at the brief confusion that crosses their face. "I'm you from another universe."

The Devil signals for the Demon to stop her advance on the intruder, who had noticed her despite the Demon's best efforts. "The Kindly Ones sent me here to alert you to my presence so there are no complications while I'm on my mission."

"You expect me to believe, that you are me from another universe." The Devil chuckles.

"I don't expect anything from you and I don't particularly care if you believe me or not. I'm just doing what I'm told..." she hesitates, "which I realise, probably isn't helping to convince you I'm another universe's version of you." She watches the Devil tilt their head, a thought popping into her head as she looks at their bat-like wings. She releases her wings, nearly hitting the Demon, realising that while it'd be great to convince them she's them, she could at the very least show them she's an Angel.

The Devil stares at their bright-white wings, so similar to what their wings looked like before they fell. "If you're me from another universe..." They gesture towards the wings.

"Oh, it's a very different universe..." A bolt of electricity shoots down her spine, "Very different..." she mutters as she suppresses a shiver, unsuccessfully, judging from the analysing look the Devil and the Demon shoot her. Her wings retreat into her back once again.

"What are you doing in this universe then, Lucifer?"

The way they say her name makes her want to punch them, "I'm hunting my father." The shock on their face is as clear as day.

"God?"

She smirks at the Devil, nodding while repressing a flinch at his name. "He has a lot to answer for." She chuckles, "And our siblings agree, might I add."

"All of them?"

"All of them. Even Michael." She pauses, letting the Devil take the information in before adding, "Raphael tried to kill me for trying to get Heaven to see who he really is... and now he's in this universe with me trying to bring him to justice."

"Where is he then?" The Devil inquires, shocked at the information that her sibling would try to kill her. They couldn't imagine their siblings attempting to do the same, even with the hostility between them.

"Heaven, having the same conversation I'm having with you. Though probably more civilly." She smiles a fake smile at the Devil as they look at her, before their eyes flicker behind her.

Caw!

"Hello"

She tenses, her body reacting in a way that tells her it's him. The man she freed from the glass cage, whom she felt entered Hell without even realising it.

"Hello, Dream."

Dream. Is he the Endless the Kindly Ones talked about? She moves to the side to face the Demon, so she can see him and the Devil.

"Greetings to you, Lucifer Morningstar."

She shiver at the sound of him saying her name, even if he doesn't realise it.

"And to you, Mazikeen of the Lillim."

She zones out as his entire presence takes over her being. I'm starting to understand why my siblings are the way they are. The Devil coughs lightly to get her attention.

"Give him hell."

She smirks at the Devil, understanding she's being dismissed and bow slightly to show her respect. She nods at Mazikeen before turning to face the man she hasn't stopped thinking about since she first saw him, she nods at him and walks past him as he nods back, leaving the room. She forces herself to keep going, forces herself to put one foot in front of the other until she's walking out of the palace where she releases her wings and takes to Hell's skies, flying out of the realm and into the mortal one.

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Thank you for reading!

The next part will be up next Friday.

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spacecadetspe · 4 months ago

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A snippet from last year...

Aug. 7, 2023

Last night was the second night of the full moon, and Morpheus and the others have been planning a shindig for awhile. About 50 of the elder oneiroi were planning on reuniting for a family portrait, with Nyx as the centerpiece. There were, of course, those who refused the invitation, and others who were skeptical about the event. The oneiroi haven't gathered like this in... well... ever. For the most part, they keep to their factions.

Phantasos, who invited me as his plus-one, explained that, with all the oneiroi gathered, if a random dreamer should appear and everyone tries to process them at once... He likened it to a schizophrenic zombie apocalypse.

He explained that this was also why he was wearing so many "mati," which one might recognize as a blue glass drop that looks like an eye. When held to the ear, they seem to chime like bells. The louder the chime, the closer we are to trouble.

At first, I poked fun at Phantasos for worrying so much. By far the most colorful of the bunch, he wore a beautiful embroidered vest with gold hems and a fringe and a pair of billowing, cream-colored pants and matching gold shoes. Somewhat Arabic in fashion, I think, with the exception of his multicolored hair. And then of course, the mati jewelry around each wrist and a single bright blue earring.

A quick look around the banquet hall told me that it was bound to be a crowded night. Moni was off in the corner, being a wallflower. I was glad she had come, even so. Nia was busy barking orders in Cassia's absence, but Cassia looked like she couldn't quite focus on the festivities, and was yearning back toward the kitchen. Morpheus and Phobetor were talking... animatedly... which is a bad thing. Watching those two wave their hands around is never a good sign.

But Phantasos broke me out of my worrying and made me laugh over at the punchbowl, talking about our annoying family members and comforting me when I didn't know everyone's faces. He handed me a cup of kykeon and explained to me that it was one of the things the oneiroi used to invoke Nyx.

Aloro is the sommelier of the kitchen staff, but Phantasos told me in secret that Dimitrios actually makes better kykeon than him! Unfortunately, how he learned it was not a happy story.

Pasithea named Dimitrios after her aunt, Demeter. Apparently he kicked her belly more vigorously whenever the goddess of plenty was about. When Dimitrios was small, Pasithea brought him and a few others to Olympus to visit her mother, Hera. There, they met Demeter during a dinner, and Dimitrios got a bit too curious (as children do), and accidentally spilled a cup. Demeter grew enraged and demanded not only that Dimitrios clean up the mess, but remake the drink to her liking. And she made him do it over and over, berating him the entire time.

Dimitrios hasn't returned to Olympus since.

Aside from the sad story, I thought that would be the end of the excitement for the night. Nyx would come down, the portrait would be painted (or whatever art the artist had in mind), and we would all enjoy ourselves until dawn.

But luck was not on our side. At least, not for the entire night.

During the Mystery of Nyx, a thief stole his way into the Dream World, broke into the castle, and attempted to ransack the guards' locker room. And it was clear that he was after a Dream Nail.

Luckily, Phantasos was wearing no less than three lucky mati charms, and the thief was caught by morning. By the time I woke up, he was gagged and bound hand and foot, and Phantasos was literally sitting on top of him. He was yelling through his gag, so he probably hadn't been there for very long.

I removed the gag, and he started yelling in... something that wasn't English. I waved for him to wait, and then tapped the Dream Staff so it would translate for me.

"Unhand me!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

I cringed. I hadn't even had my cup of coffee yet. "That's not how this works. You broke into my home and tried to take something that wasn't yours. You don't get to demand anything."

"He was trying to steal the guards' Dream Nails," Phantasos confirmed.

I furrowed my brow. "Why?" I asked. "They're bound to their users. They don't work for anyone else."

The thief tried to gesture with his bound hands. "A sigil on my hand allows me to manipulate them."

I took a look at his hand, but neither Phantasos nor I had any idea what it meant. But I knew who might; Orpheus.

Phantasos suggested we take a chariot, and it was a nice day to have a ride, so I agreed. Pegasi are much wilder than horses, but even so, I got the feeling we were being followed. Phantasos had a look around, and replied that the thief had placed one of those sigils on the bottom of the chariot, much like a gps.

So we unhooked the chariot and let the pegasus wander for awhile, and took off toward the hidden glen where the Prophetic faction secreted its temple. Epivlepsi (Hindsight) met us there and showed us the way to the chamber where Orpheus was playing.

After finishing his music, Orpheus told us that the sigils belonged to the Maenads, of which he was once a member. The Maenads, who follow Bacchus (Zagreus' brother-aspect, for anyone keeping track), were the same ones who ritually sacrificed him. Orpheus claimed that his ritual sacrifice was how he found his way into being an astral guide. I don't know how all this works; frankly it seems contrived.

Either way, I got to call Zagreus and Bacchus, who at first both wondered if they were in trouble. Since the thief hadn't hurt anyone, or even been successful stealing what he had come for, it didn't seem right to kill him. So we went back to the palace to confront him.

Upon seeing his patrons, the thief prostrated himself and began sobbing apologies and begging forgiveness. He explained that Orpheus had been the guide for the cult, and since his departure, the "flame of olympus" had gone out, and no one had been able to rekindle it.

Oh boy...

I sighed. "Do you know who I am?" I finally asked.

He looked from me to Bacchus, and then to Zagreus, unsure of what to say.

"I would much rather you be ignorant."

He shook his head. "I do not."

I straightened. Good. A lesson could be learned. "I am Hope; that is my role in the cosmos. I can do anything at all, have killed beings you can't possibly imagine, carried my children to greatness, taken the role of Dream Lord from Morpheus, and am consort to Lord Hades. The rainbow fire you speak of... I am her daughter."

The man's eyes grew wide, and he began begging and crying again.

"Enough!" I said. "As I told one of my children, not so long ago; you cannot make people do what you want. They don't like it. If you want them to do something for you, you must give them a good reason."

He stopped weeping and thought for a moment. "Orpheus was our guide," he said. "He was the only one for whom the fire would stay lit. Without it, we are lost. Part of the cult has gone rogue, searching for ways to reignite it. The Mysteries are what led me here, hoping to find Orpheus."

"There are a hundred million ways of lighting that fire, and you are so fixated on that one way that you have forgotten there are others," I said. "When one goes out, you find another. This is your opportunity to branch out; to learn to find the divine flame for yourself."

Zag leaned over to his brother. "I guess this is how we can tell we're not in trouble."

"That's true, but the cult is still your responsibility," I said. "You may deal with this one how you see fit."

Bacchus took a swig of his wine, grabbed the man by his collar, and spat in his eye. The thief's eye began to take on an iridescent glow. Zagreus tied a cloth over the man's eyes and gave him a curse. "Should you remove that cloth yourself, you will go mad with the very visions you wanted so badly. And after that... well... you'll lose a lot of weight very quickly." That was to imply that he would leave his body behind.

And with that, the brothers opened a portal and threw the thief back into his world.

They took bets on how long it would take him to go mad. Whoever won gets the poor man's soul. But I doubt it's quite so simple. With that amount of divine fire, it's possible the cult will use him as its next guide, or even kill him themselves.

I wagered a conservative three days.

Phantasos asked me why I don't have a cult, and frankly... I don't like the idea. I don't like sycophants and two-faced people. I don't keep fake friends, so the idea of a cult fawning over me is... kind of gross. He told me that Phobetor incarnated once; a cult leader of some sort. That's hardly surprising... but... even if he led another cult, I probably wouldn't like the idea. Maybe that's just me.

#mythology and folklore #dreams #magic #shadow work

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banancrumbs · 2 years ago

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a night in a club through hob’s memories, in the dreaming!

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7-wonders · 2 years ago

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Morpheus Does Not Understand Millennial/Gen-Z Humor (Morpheus x reader)

Sometimes, it's difficult to remember that Morpheus is an anthropomorphic personification of a concept that is likely billions of years old. When you look at him, after all, he looks like a regular man (an unfairly pretty regular man, but a man all the same)

Morpheus was also locked up underground for over a century, which adds another layer of complexity to him

This leads to some pretty...interesting interactions with him

Let's face it: Millennials and Gen-Z'ers are nihilists on their best days

We've seen manmade horror after manmade horror our entire lives while living in the midst of late-stage capitalism, which has given all of us a pretty odd sense of humor

When you begin to date/court/see Morpheus, he becomes privy to this in the worst of ways

The first time is when you're attempting to look something up on your phone and you drop it

The device lands face-down on the ground, and you stare at what has now become Schrödinger's phone for a long moment

After letting out a long, pained sigh, you go to pick it up and mutter "I swear to god if this screen shattered, I'm gonna fucking kill myself"

Morpheus, of course, heard you perfectly clear

When you straighten up and look at him after checking your phone (no damage, thankfully), you see his horrified gaze

"I—You will do no such thing. I positively forbid it."

He looks torn between lecturing you and sitting you down for an intervention, so you grab one of his hands to stop his spiraling before it can go any further

"No I don't actually wanna kill myself, it's a..." What is it? A figure of speech? A meme? A joke? Finally, you settle on, "It's just something people say when faced with a minor inconvenience."

Morpheus is not at all impressed with this, and it shows very clearly on his face. "That is ridiculous, that one would become suicidal over something as trivial as their cellular device falling."

You just shrug in a "what can you do?" expression

This isn't the only instance that Morpheus gets to see generational humor at play

One time you're at the New Inn bc Hob is trying to curate a new cocktail menu and needs an outside opinion (Morpheus is just standing in the corner like 🧍‍♂️)

After you try your favorite one you're like, "Hob this SLAPS"

Hob's beaming bc he understands what you're saying since he teaches college students, but Morpheus pipes up and says, "The drink does not have arms with which to slap you"

This sends you and Hob into hysterics

Don't even try to open TikTok when he's anywhere near you bc he WILL want to see what you're laughing at and having to explain a TikTok takes all of the humor out of it

( "Well it's funny because she said that the rats don't run the city like it's a declaration of war against the rats"

"What is it then?"

"...I'm changing the subject")

Matthew has become your gossip buddy because he sees everything, and one night in the Dreaming he finds you in the library with Morpheus

He's doing excited little raven hops across the table and you say, "Matthew, do you have tea for me?"

Matthew's about to reply that, yes he does and you had better buckle up, when Morpheus beats him

"Would you like tea, my love? I can arrange that for you."

You smile at him like he's a child that just said something funny. "No, 'tea' means gossip. Matthew looks like he has gossip."

You whisper popular TikTok sounds under your breath a lot and Morpheus has just learned to not even ask when he hears you mutter something like, "Interior crocodile alligator, I drive a Chevrolet movie theater."

You're just glad you've never been in a car with him, because you know that the instinctive "Road work ahead? Uh YEAH I SURE HOPE IT DOES" that you won't be able to stop yourself from saying when you see a 'Road Work Ahead' sign will probably make his poor head explode

#morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman imagine #the sandman

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hollybell51 · 2 years ago

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I promise

Masterpost

Corinthian x gn!Reader

The Sandman (2022 Netflix series)

Word count: 4814

Summary: having been alone in the Waking World since your departure from the Dreaming, you’re glad to see a familiar and sorely missed face. So is the Corinthian.

Content: no use of (Y/N), use of pet names (“sweetheart”), canon-typical horror elements and referenced violence, referenced murder/gore/violence (it’s the Corinthian guys), drinking (as in drinking a grand total of two alcoholic drinks each), reader is a nightmare, weirdly deep ruminations on the nature of love, pseudo-love confessions (you’ll see). Smut (because I feel like this needs its own category of tags): smut with feelings, oral sex, making out, hickeys, slight possessiveness, slightly pervy Corinthian I guess (???), slightly dom-y reader, slightly dom-y Corinthian, they kinda swap around, maybe I should have just said “switch”, but I mean slightly when I say slightly so I don’t really even think it’s worth labelling, penetrative sex

Notes: I am so attracted to this man it’s actually kind of depressing. Thank you Neil Gaiman and Boyd Holbrook. Also I was quite torn writing this because obviously he's a gay man in the comics which is a huge part of him and very deliberate decision (I really recommend checking out this post) but also the pansexual element of the show, so I've done this as a gender neutral reader so I guess you can take it where you want... anyways, enjoy!

Also I literally could not decide which of the many gorgeous GIFs of this man to put because holy shit he is just so hot in literally everything he does but I like his little "hmf" kinda smile near the end in this one so it's what you get <3

Your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a notification from the news network.

“Anything good?” the bartender queried as you idly opened it, skimming the headline. You smiled. The Corinthian strikes again, police warn local citizens to exercise caution.

“Must be something,” he continued, seeing your smile.

“No,” you replied.

“So what’s got you smiling?”

“Nothing, really.”

The bartender shrugged, deftly wiping a glass and sliding it into place behind him. You idly spun the plain band of metal that circled your little finger – your promise finger – as you continued scanning the article, looking for anything that might be a clue to you. Apparently the body wasn’t found too far from where you were now, but that wasn’t helpful. He could move fast, and he did. The whole thing was riddled with the usual useless vagaries, police stating that they were working hard and that everyone should just be careful when going out at night. Everything they always said, none of it any more helpful than any other time.

It had been too long since you’d last seen the Corinthian, somewhere around half a century. You’d stopped keeping track of the years when it got to thirty. You hadn’t realised at the time that you wouldn’t be seeing him again, you’d laughed off his talk of the two of you leaving the Dreaming for the Waking World as nothing more than that; talk of grand plans as you lay wrapped in each other's arms, bodies pleasantly exhausted from the night’s activities. He’d held you close, kissed you very gently, then said nothing more on the matter. It wasn’t until you went to look for him later that it sunk in. He’d been serious, and he’d left.

Then, of course, there had been the whole debacle with the ruler of your home simply vanishing one day. You’d thought of the Corinthian, wondered what he was doing. You’d tried to look for him in people’s dreams, but you were a small nightmare and didn’t possess the power he did. And with Lord Morpheus gone, the Dreaming had begun to crumble as people succumbed to what the humans were calling “the sleepy sickness”.

There came a time around the twenty year mark of your king’s absence that you’d caved as many dreams had and slipped quietly into the realm of humanity, sliding through them like a snake through long grass. They fascinated you, and after a while you’d started to see the appeal of living among them. You didn’t exactly see their best side – you were a nightmare, after all, and like attracts like – but nonetheless you gulped every drop of their lives you could get.

You’d become aware of the Corinthian’s little hobby purely by chance, the random drop of a hat – or newspaper, since it was a dirty and battered tabloid blowing across the street in front of you just around a decade ago that had set the ball rolling. His name stood out to you like it was glowing, the description of the crime tactfully vague yet somehow more horrifying because of it cementing in your mind that it was him, that it was your Corinthian. You’d followed it like a hound follows a deer ever since, scouring every discussion, every article, every word printed on it with a comb so fine it was surprising anything at all could even get through. Yet something must have, because here you were, still searching.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender was asking someone, not you. You could feel them slide into the seat beside you, despite the bar being almost empty. Whatever, you wouldn’t be here much longer anyway.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.”

You froze. What were the chances, now, after all this time? You’d always imagined you would be the one to find him, had played out the scenario in your head to no end. You’d find a clue, follow it, everything would fall into place and there he’d be, sitting in a dark corner of a bar or pub, watching people around him through those dark glasses he always wore. You’d slip into the seat beside him just as he was now doing to you. He’d be shocked to see you, he’d give some wonderful explanation as to why he hadn’t come looking for you, then he’d laugh that beautiful laugh of his and shoot you that special admiring grin he reserved just for you. Maybe you’d be coy, maybe you’d give in and slip right back into his arms as if he’d never left.

“Reading something interesting, sweetheart?”

A smile tugged persistently at the corners of your mouth, your stomach flipping at the familiar accent, the beloved pet name. No, it looked like coy was off the table. “Something that reminds me of someone who’s been gone way too long.”

“Cut ‘em some slack,” the Corinthian said, humming appreciatively at the whiskey, “they’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, finally looking up, “they certainly have.”

He looked the same as the last time you’d seen him, exactly as you’d imagined he would. Dark glasses obscuring his eyes, pale coat, neat swathe of blonde hair cast in gold by the yellow lighting of the bar. And he was smiling at you as he took another sip of his drink, a wide grin that made your heart soar. Shit, you’d missed him more than you’d realised.

“Do you–” you started, just he said “what do you say–”

“Sorry.” You stopped, gesturing for him to continue.

“Should we get out of here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

He nodded, downing the last of his drink and paying the bartender. He glanced from the money to you, then back to the Corinthian. As the realisation dawned, you quickly started to tell him that he didn’t have to pay for you, that you could buy your own long since empty drink, fumbling in your pockets for the money you knew was there but seemed to be eluding you almost deliberately.

“My treat, sweetheart,” the nightmare said, watching you idly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t have to–”

He held up a hand, stopping you mid sentence. “Consider it an apology. For being gone way too long.”

You sighed, giving in. “Alright.”

He nodded, pleased with himself, and offered you his arm. Casting a hasty farewell to the bartender – smiling at what must have looked like a dream couple – you slipped your hand into the crook of the Corinthian’s elbow and allowed him to lead you out onto the dark street. He may have been a nightmare, but nobody could say he wasn’t a gentleman.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“I’m taking you home with me.” Then, at your laugh; “something funny about that?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “The real human experience, huh? Picking someone up from a bar and taking them home.”

“Not just anyone,” he corrected. “Someone real special and real pretty.”

“You do this a lot?” You tried to keep the question light, but something of your thoughts must have come through in your voice.

“Jealous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, fighting the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “No, just curious.”

“Well let me tell you this,” he said softly, bending down close enough that his whiskey scented breath brushed your cheek, “no one can even come close to you.”

“And no one can come close to you,” you replied, ignoring the bolt of warmth the words sent through you. Yep, you’d missed him way more than you realised.

“Do you do this a lot?” he asked, his ever present grin dancing around his mouth.

You shrugged, your hand drifting to his own, much larger one. “The novelty tends to wear off a bit.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “that sounded like a yes to me.”

“Has all your time in the noise of the Waking World clogged up your ears, Corinthian?”

“Maybe, but it’s cleared my head.” The mirth had fled from his features, his brows drawing together seriously. “I didn’t realise how much I’d miss you when I left.”

“Why didn’t you come and find me?”

“I tried. For about the first twenty years or so. I even went back to the Dreaming, but I guess you left before I got there.”

You sighed, bringing your hand up to pull his arm across your shoulders. “I didn’t realise you were serious when you asked me to leave with you. If I knew, I would have come with you.”

“You’re here now,” he shrugged. His fingers stroked yours, hesitating momentarily as he felt the cold metal on your littlest one.

“Yeah. You were right,” you added. “It’s nice to have more than just people’s minds to explore. I like seeing the real things that dreams only echo.”

He hummed in agreement, drawing you closer to his side. He smelled the same as he had when he’d left, dark and woody and if you had to describe it in a word, like something expensive. He smelled like home. If you were uncreated right then and there, you thought, you’d go happily.

“This is me,” he said after a few blocks traversed in comfortable silence. The building wasn’t new, but it wasn’t old either. It wasn’t exactly large, but it wasn’t small. It was just an apartment building in the city, nothing about it really stood out. Except that the Corinthian was opening the door and holding it for you, inviting you inside. And you were going inside, following him into the elevator as you imagined countless humans had done before you. The thought might have disturbed you if it had been anyone but him, but you trusted the nightmare with your very soul and knew that he trusted you in the same way. He would never hurt you, and you would never hurt him.

The elevator dinged, you followed him down the corridor. He opened the door, you followed him inside. He took your coat, the strange intimacy of the gesture sending shivers down your spine as you watched him hang it beside his own, letting your eyes linger on the perfect way his muscles moved under his skin, the smoothness and preciseness of each movement. Even if you didn’t know it was true, you’d have believed anyone who told you he was hand sculpted by a God. More than a God, in fact; an Endless.

“Take a seat. Can I get you another drink?” he asked as he moved to the kitchen, his fingers trailing lightly over the bench top.

“Sure,” you said, settling yourself on a stool. “Surprise me.”

He shot you another grin, deftly pouring a glass of wine as red as blood and sliding it across to you. You didn’t catch the label, but something about it made you think it was probably the fancy kind. The Corinthian loved fancy things, and he loved giving them to you. You remembered the Dreaming, how no matter where you went you were sure to find beautiful little gifts left for you in his wake. What you wouldn’t give to relive that time, when it had been you and him and nothing between you but space, which could easily be crossed.

He came around to your side of the bench, leaning against it with his own glass in hand. He watched you take a sip, satisfaction tugging at the corner of his mouth as you made a faint sound of pleasure. Yeah, you’d been right, this was the good stuff. He’d always liked seeing you receive things he gave you, another thing that didn’t seem to have changed.

“So,” he said after a few minutes’ silence in which you drank sip for sip, savouring the richly layered flavours and aromas.

“So,” you echoed. He was close enough that you could see every detail of him, and every detail of yourself reflected in those dark glasses, like two pools of black on his face. Even if you couldn't see his eyes – or mouths, you supposed – you could feel the intensity of his gaze, sending shivers down you spine. Then he leaned down, brushing your lips with his so lightly and quickly that you weren’t even sure he’d actually done it. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, blood rushing in your ears as he drew closer still, and this time you were sure. He kissed you with all the warmth and care that he always had, his lips silken as they’d always been against yours. The soft “clink” of his glass being set gently on the table barely registered with you as his hands slid up your thighs, over your hips, around your waist.

You pulled away softly, taking a moment to catch your breath and place your own drink far enough back on the counter that you weren’t at risk of knocking it over. The Corinthian watched you, a faint furrow marring his brow.

“Come here,” you said softly, holding out your hands to him. He pushed himself off the bench, standing directly before you in all his towering glory. You’d almost forgotten just how tall he was, but you were starkly reminded now. He let you place your hands on his face, sighing at the contact as you smiled. Just as he pressed his cheek into your palm, your fingers skirted deftly to his glasses. You hesitated, then at his near imperceptible nod, drew them away. You folded them neatly, slowly, setting them on the bench beside the two half drunk wine glasses. Then you turned back to him, smiling.

His face had been the second you ever saw, and as such, it would never be anything other than beautiful in your mind. He’d been there when Morpheus had breathed life into you, he’d been there in the beginning when you were learning how to live and he would be there at the end when you were finished, you were sure of it. Truth be told, you’d never really understood why he kept his glasses on even when it was just the two of you. When pressured, he simply shrugged and said “habit” in that nonchalant tone of his, but you saw the way he nearly cringed away from you the first time you’d removed the dark lenses. He was apprehensive even now, the idea that something in his very being could elicit such visceral reactions from humans – even you, nightmare as you were – deeply ingrained into his psyche. It wasn’t fair, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t resent Morpheus just a little. He hadn’t given either of you a choice in what you were, but at least you didn’t have to hide a part of yourself that was so significant as your eyes. They were the windows to the soul, after all.

“Beautiful,” you whispered, stretching up to place a kiss on each of his little mouths, then returning once more to his real mouth. He was smiling too, you could feel it. The whole thing was slow and warm and soft as your hands ran over his jaw, his cheeks, his neck, finally fixing in his soft hair. He was pulling you towards him, so hard you were almost entirely standing on the floor now, your butt just touching the stool you’d been sitting on.

“Come on,” he murmured between kisses, taking your hand. “I got somewhere better than the kitchen.”

You allowed him to lead you through a narrow doorway, down a short corridor and into a modest bedroom. You’d barely set foot through the door before he was on you again, hungrier and more insistent this time. You gave as good as you got, pushing him back across the carpeted floor until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down with a soft “oof”, pulling you with him. You settled into place as if you’d never left, straddling his hips with your hands tangled in the front of his shirt.

You attacked his neck with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, fighting not to moan yourself at the sounds he was making. The muscles of his throat flexed and twitched under your ministrations, a growing hardness forming where your hips met his. You ground softly against him, humming at the heat it conjured.

“Shit darlin’,” he groaned as you sucked at a spot right over his jugular. “You’re so, hm, good.”

“Hm?” you drew back, observing the scattering of dark marks you’d left on his skin before reattaching your lips to his own. He was yours, all yours. You pulled his hair lightly, stifling his moan with your mouth. He knew exactly what his words were doing to you.

“Take this off,” he whispered, tugging at your shirt.

“You do it,” you replied.

He drew back, stilling your hands. “Stand up,” he told you. “Stand up and take your clothes off.”

You paused for a moment, then smiled and did as he asked. “This is new,” you said as you shed layer after layer of your garments until you were bare and they were in a pile on the floor, watching his face carefully.

He shrugged. “I like watching humans do it, figured it’d be a million times better with you.”

“And?”

“I was right,” he grinned. Many people, you knew, would have felt self conscious in your position. Hell, you’d felt it when taking off your clothes in front of humans you took to your bed a few times, despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be in your nature. You were a nightmare, a creature beyond them, and you had been crafted by an Endless just as the Corinthian had. But it had been there. Now, however, you felt a warm glow spread through you as his toothy gaze scanned your body, drinking it in like he was a man dying of thirst. You felt seen with him, for who you were.

You returned his grin, leaning forward to place your hands on his thighs. His fingers cupped your jaw, gently enough that you were still able to sink to your knees at the edge of the bed and begin undoing his belt buckle. You’d felt how hard he was sitting on his lap, and right now you wanted nothing more than the warm weight of his cock in your mouth.

“Can I?” you asked softly, your face inches from his crotch.

He didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on your hand. Or more specifically, the band of metal around your finger. “Still got it,” he whispered, almost in awe.

“Yeah,” you said, “of course I do.” The ring had been one of his many gifts, but it was perhaps your most treasured. He’d slipped it onto your finger back in the Dreaming as you lay against his chest, covering your hand with kisses. When you’d asked what it was he’d told you it was promise, though you’d never found out what the promise was for.

Now, he shook his head in wonder and smiled. You could’ve just sat and looked at that smile forever.

“So…?” you prompted instead, your hands still resting lightly on his crotch.

“Go ahead,” he told you. His fingers tangled gently in your hair as you took his dick in your hands, licking the tip ever so gently. “Stop teasing, sweetheart,” he said breathily.

“Magic word?” you murmured, your breath ghosting over his hot skin.

“Please,” he grunted. You smiled, licking your lips before sinking down on him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking.

“Alright?” you asked as he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair.

The Corinthian nodded. “Don’t stop.”

You nodded too, going down on him again. You were mindful of your teeth, instead using mostly your tongue and your hands where your mouth wouldn’t fit. He was familiar, this was familiar, but you would hate to choke on him because you were too enthusiastic about sucking him off. But you needn’t have worried, it was like listening to a song from when you were younger, the Corinthian’s heavy breathing and hand in your hair guiding you in the familiar movements. You could never forget this, no matter how much time had passed.

You let a moan escape you, which in turn made his hips jolt. You hummed again, and his hold on your hair tightened.

“That’s it sweetheart,” he whispered. “You look so good.”

That really made you moan, an embarrassingly desperate sound to accompany the embarrassingly desperate way your thighs rubbed together in search of any friction. He was driving you insane, and you were completely helpless.

You didn’t stop your increasingly messy sucking and licking, completely enraptured by the little breaths and gasps your attention was conjuring from the nightmare, revelling in his hand in your hair and the occasional curses or words of praise he let slip. You probably could have stayed there forever, listening to him forever, feeling his hot weight in your mouth forever, if he hadn’t brought his hand to your face and gently eased you off him. He surveyed your face carefully, running his thumb across your reddened and swollen lips.

“Hm?” you asked, parting your lips to allow his fingers into your mouth. You sucked lightly, keeping eye contact the whole time.

“Come up here,” he told you, patting his lap.

“If I get to take your clothes off,” you replied. “It’s hardly fair that I’m here naked and you look like you just walked in.” That was a gross exaggeration, between the hickeys on his neck and his dishevelled hair he certainly did not look like he'd just walked in.

“Just walked in, huh?” he raised an eyebrow, glancing pointedly at his rock hard dick shining with your spit.

“Maybe not just,” you yielded. “Either way, it’s not fair.”

“Cause you’ve always been so big on fair.” It came out as mocking, but there was softness in his face as he said it. Yes, you were big on fairness, something he knew very well. How many of your rants about what was fair had he endured? How many had he cut short with kisses, and how many more had he simply nodded along with until you were finished before producing some trinket or other that would distract you until the next slight of justice occurred?

Either way, he didn’t resist as you pulled his shirt over his head, and offered assistance when you eased his pants and underpants off his legs. Only when he was naked before you did you resume your earlier place straddling his hips. You ran your hands over his smooth, warm chest, down his arms, back up again and then down once more over the subtle planes of his stomach. His body reacted to your touch instinctively, goosebumps forming in the wake of your hands, his breath hitching in his throat.

Your insides clenched as he spat into his hand, adding to the wetness already coating his dick. He glanced at you, a silent “are you ready?”, then at your breathed “yes” and lifted hips, slid into you. It was like a missing piece had fallen into place. You’d had others in his absence, but what you’d said to him earlier had been true; they’d all paled compared to him. He fit inside you perfectly, a blissful stretch and familiar, beloved burn as your bodies adjusted to each other after too long apart.

He whispered your name like a prayer, lightly kissing your neck before settling in the hollow where it met your shoulder. “You feel too good,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I forgot how good you feel.”

“Me too,” you sighed, then rocked your hips over his. His fingers dug into your flesh as you moved, guiding you and bracing himself all at once. He continued to deliver the same wet, open-mouthed kisses to your neck and collar bone as you’d given him earlier, leaving a trail of dark marks behind. Shit, how you’d missed those. Nothing could even come close to how he did this with you. Just as he was yours, you were his. All his and nobody else’s.

You reached between the two of you, touching yourself as the Corinthian’s dick slid seamlessly in and out of you, every movement an explosion of pure bliss. His teeth grazed your skin and you pressed your lips together, frantically stifling the moan that threatened to burst from you.

“Don’t try to be quiet,” he said. “I wanna hear you.”

“Ok,” you panted, breaking off in another moan. The sound seemed to spur him to go harder, faster, the warmth of his mouth on your neck combined with his hands on your hips and his cock in you almost too much to bear.

The sensation built in your stomach, gradually more and more until you felt a single tear leak from your eye. The Cotinthian was holding you so close to him he may as well have been trying to absorb your body into his, his sweat and spit mixing where his face was pressed into your shoulder as he frantically delivered more hickeys to your skin. You would be covered in them come morning. He whispered your name, every syllable like a prayer as it fell from his lips. He twitched inside you, and you shivered involuntarily.

“Yes,” you hissed, reaching down once more to touch yourself. He spilled with a curse inside you, his head falling back and his eyes closed. Fuck, he was gorgeous, and you’d brought him undone.

Your own climax flooded through you, all your muscles tensing together at once, a shuddering, desperate cry of his name torn from your throat. You rode him through your combined pleasure, until your legs were no longer shaking and his breathing had evened out.

Yet still, neither of you moved.

The Corinthian rested his forehead against your chest, his arms circling your waist. You held him, his hair tickling your face and neck where it brushed against you. He gently kissed over the dark marks he’d left on your skin, soothing and warm, and you let your lips rest against the silk of his hair. Even with sweat beeding his skin and the whole room smelling of sex, he still smelled good, like home. You couldn't get enough.

Eventually, he pulled out of you, lifting your boneless body onto the bed beside him. You whined at the loss of contact, but he simply smiled and assured you that he was just getting you a towel, that he’d be back in a minute. He kept his word, returning and gently wiping over your skin before sliding onto the mattress beside you.

You wriggled sideways, laying your head on his chest where you could feel his heart beating under your cheek. This was the part where most humans fell asleep, but you didn’t. You were a nightmare, and nightmares didn’t sleep.

The Corinthian’s arm snaked around you, his fingers lacing with your own. This, you thought, is what love must be like. You’d given the matter a lot of thought since you’d arrived in the Waking World and had come to the conclusion that Lord Morpheus probably hadn’t made you to love. You were to scare humans, force them to confront their fears and darker selves, not to love. Maybe dreams could, but you didn’t think it was something for nightmares.

Still, you’d devoured all the resources on the subject that you could. Humans didn’t seem to know what it was either, and had very different opinions on the matter. You wanted to love the Corinthian, and some would say that in itself was the real thing. Others would say that you loved him because you’d missed him so much, others still would say that you couldn’t love him because love was what made them human and you certainly were not human. Maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. But anyone who saw the two of you now, twined together so tightly you were nothing more than a mess of limbs would have thought it was.

“If we can…” you started, licking your lips, unsure of yourself. “If we can love, I love you.”

He was quiet for a moment, then he drew your hand to his lips and kissed it softly, running his fingers over the ring. “And I love you. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to leave again,” you whispered.

“I won’t.” The Corinthian leaned over, flipping you onto your back and pressing your still linked hands into the mattress. “I promise,” he said, kissing you softly. “I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

“Alright,” you replied. You kissed him, softly and sweetly, basking in the warmth of his body pressing down on you and pleasant heaviness of your own. If he ever asked you to go somewhere with him, you told yourself silently, you would. You’d never let him go again.

HOW HOT IS HE AND WHY IS HE THIS HOT it's genuinely unfair

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years ago

Text

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part VII.

GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Hello there, hope you have had a nice weekend. Three chapters in one week! It might be the only thing that is keeping me sane with work and trying to sort out my new house. Long live creative refuges. Would love to hear what you think. Have a great day, Saskia

Sandman Masterlist

---------------

The hands wrapped round your throat constrict so much that you are truly convinced that you are going to die.

You are thrashing silently; there is no air left to scream with.

Then, you begin to feel the unmistakable oblivion of dissociation.

Your body doesn't feel like it belongs to you. It is a dead weight while your brain is in free fall.

Shadows rush up around you and you wonder if this is this is your last moment on Earth.

The choke hold disappears.

You remain catatonic. Breaths are coming so fast yet provide so little oxygen. The deficiency scrambles your mind.

You can barely remember where you are.

You can't even use your sense of sight to confirm your location. Your eyes burn and blur with tears making it impossible to see.

You desperately try to recall what happened.

His face flashes in your prefrontal cortex.

Morpheus.

He had put you into a nightmare. One that had transformed into three, all running into one another. Keeping you trapped. You remember the themes; persecution, home invasion, drowning. Then the encounter with your ex.

And how they followed you from the lake side to literally trying to murder you in your bed.

Or at least that was how it had felt at the time until you somehow managed to break out of the parasomnia episode.

Safe in the knowledge that none of it had been real, your body and mind re-synchronise.

Your name is being called.

You open your eyes. Morpheus is sat on the mattress next to you like he had the previous night. He gazes down at you. He seems pleased with himself.

“I know what is happening to you now.”

His tone gives evidence to your prior observation.

You flinch away from him, backing away to the vacant side of the bed.

Mystification sits in his eyes. “I thought you would be pleased.”

“Pleased? After what you just put me through?”

His lack of regret riles you further.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? I feel like a fucking science experiment.” You point an angry index finger at him. “Actually, no. I feel like a torture victim.”

"I recognise that my methods could be construed as extreme however it did get the result that we wanted.”

“Well, next time, find another way to prove it instead of forcing someone through all that.”

You sit, chest still heaving from the adrenaline and anger.

He goes to say something but you cut him off in your rage.

“No. I’m not listening to anything else you have to say until I have a drink.”

You push yourself off the bed and grab an oversized jumper before storming from the room.

***

A steady stream of water vapour rises from the earthenware mug that you hold in your hands.

Morpheus stands as far away from you as he can in your small kitchen, a little pout on his face.

You haven’t stopped glaring at him since he followed you downstairs.

“When you said about having a drink, this was not what I had imagined.”

“I’m an adult who lives in the UK, Morpheus. This is what we do when things go to shit.”

You take a long gulp of the last of the decaffeinated tea and set the mug down.

"Right, lay it on me. What have you managed to ascertain?”

His expression is stern.

“The things that you have been seeing in the past week, they are not as a result of your lucidity, nor are they hallucinations. You have the ability to create temporary holes in the Dreaming and pull entities through.”

A flutter of alarm elevates your pulse.

“That sounds... serious.”

“It will be if the breaches become permanent. To be able to weaken the walls between the Dreaming and the Waking World, it poses great danger to both realms and their inhabitants.”

You’re gripping the edge of the worktop with both hands, dread filling you up from head to toe.

“They were right, I am a plague,” you speak quietly to yourself, remembering the words that your ex had spoken in the nightmare.

Morpheus is suddenly right beside you.

“You are not a plague, Y/N.”

You close your eyes in an attempt to hide your tears.

“But you just told me that I’m dangerous.”

He says your name in a gentle timbre but with a commanding undercurrent that forces you to look right at him.

He adopts a comforting tone.

“We will figure this out. Together. You have my word.”

The kindness in his deep blue eyes is so concentrated that you want to pull him into an embrace.

You instead opt for something less physical.

“Thank you,” you whisper as your tears overflow.

His hand twitches as if to reach out and take one of your own. He doesn’t quite make contact; you feel the ghost of a touch but nothing more.

Morpheus stays close to you as you cry and once your well starts to run dry, he takes a risk and asks a question.

“Who was the person at the end of the nightmare?”

Your face contorts.

“Someone I hurt recently.”

“Are they the reason behind the anxiety you mentioned?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask what happened?”

You keep your eyes downcast as you recount the tale.

“They wanted to fast track things; buy a house, get married, start a family all within the next year. I started to feel pressured, trapped. I wasn’t ready for that level of commitment so I ended things.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose. “I feel so guilty.”

“You shouldn’t. Going along with it would have only caused more pain further down the line. There is nothing wrong with realising that your paths were diverging and acting on it.”

“I broke their heart.”

“Time mends all things.”

You look directly at him then. The sincerity in his voice makes you wonder if he is speaking from experience.

For a moment, his eyes glisten with something that looks like tears.

And then he is speaking again and the quality melts away.

“I believe that we should discuss your sleeping arrangements.”

“Um, okay.”

“I wish for you to return to the Dreaming-”

You interrupt him, shaking your head vigorously. “Nope. Definitely not. I don’t ever want to sleep again. It would be irresponsible of me. And even if I wanted to, I couldn’t because I don’t even feel tired right now.”

Your body betrays you and soon you are stifling a yawn with your hand.

“Shit.”

Morpheus smirks.

“I admire your caution but you did not allow me to finish: I would like you to be my companion for the remainder of the night.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

"You will be safe with me.”

“And what about the safety of your realm?”

“That is precisely why I want you by my side. Based on what I just witnessed, I would feel uneasy leaving you unattended. With me, I can protect you and step in should there be an incident.”

You are frowning.

He says your name. “Trust me.”

His coaxing works like a treat.

“Fine. But if anything happens, I’m blaming you.”

He smiles.

“You underestimate my power, Y/N.”

He takes a step towards the kitchen door way. “I will change that soon enough.”

-----------------------------------------

"A woman is a changeling. Always shifting shape. Just when you think you have it figured out. Something new begins to take."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998 @dotieeee

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pinksirensong · 2 years ago

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Hey, I'm not sure if you accept ideas for one-shots, but you could write about the reader being human and she tells Morpheus that she goes to a club with her friends, and like most girls of our time, she wears dresses short and tight, and Morpheus is all jealous when he sees what she's wearing

Sweetie I'm so so soooo sorry for taking so long! I do accept ideas and I'm deeply sorry for taking so long, sometimes the inspiration for certain things take some time. I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind, but even though is kind pf short...I liked it 😏

Y/N never thought that dating an Endless would be easy, but nobody had the decency to tell her how hard it would be to date Dream of the Endless. They were together for more than a year, her being human was a problem at the beginning but later it was actually something good because Y/N worked at night just like him and with that had plenty of time for each other.

Being a bartender wasn't easy, a lot of pick up lines and disgusting men throwing themselves at her, but it was fun to take a moment to dance with her friends and enjoy the night. Morpheus knew what she did, but never actually got to see her getting ready for it or working at all, for him it was just like the guy who served drinks at Hob's pub.

"I am certain that there is missing fabric on your dress, beloved." was the first thing he said when he, without actually being invited, entered her room. That night he decided that Lucienne could guard the Dreaming and he would be able to be the last and first face Y/N saw. It was supposed to be romantic, but Morpheus couldn't expect to see his beloved in such a short and tight red dress that highlighted her curves in a way that made him want to keep her in bed all night.

"We are in 2022, sweetie."

"You are going to work with that…dress?"

"No, of course not. Today is my free day and the boss said me and my friends could have some fun for free."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I will not allow you to leave dressed like this. You must know all men will keep their eyes on you." he was angry but more than that, Morpheus was jealous.

"You don't allow me anything because you don't own me. Since you don't know much about modern times I will let it pass, but you don't control me."

"I am not trying to control you, this is me trying to take care of you. Protect you!"

"Well, if that's the case you can come with me and if any men try getting close you will be there for me."

"I do not go to such places…"

"Then I'll go all alone with my girls. Totally unprotected and dressed all pretty." as she talked, Y/N got closer to him and pressed her body to his. She grabbed his hand and put it on her right thigh, guiding it up a little bit. "I would feel safer with you there…" her lips now closer to his ear, sending shivers through the Endless' body.

"I do not dance." his voice cracking a little.

"I could be…persuaded." both of Morpheus hands were on her hips, pressing her closer to his body.

"Not even if I say please?" now Y/N was spreading light kisses through his neck.

"Just think about it…I could dance very close to you…" she dragged her leg up brushing in his, Dream's hand immediately went to grab it and keep it there, giving a little squeeze. "And everyone would know that I'm yours." losing all his self control, Morpheus brought her in for a passionate kiss. Y/N never knew how to explain how it felt kissing him, it was like someone was taking all the breath she had and yet gave her life in exchange. It was like flying without the fear of falling, being with him was intense and unique. She loved it…loved him. It was like ages went by as the kissed, when in reality it was not even minutes. "Did I plead my case correctly, my lord?"

"There is nothing I would not do for you, my love." indeed there wasn't, no rules could be strong enough to keep him from making her happy.

"In that case…" she gave him one last peck on his lips. "If you behave tonight, I'll let you tear this dress into pieces." Y/N grabbed her purse and went to get her car keys, giving Morpheus a really nice view on her back. No, he wouldn't stop being jealous and scaring off men that tried to get close to what was his…but perhaps this sort of dress wasn't that bad. Especially later that night when there would be just the two of them in her bedroom.

#morpheus x reader #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus x oc

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ohraicodoll · 2 years ago

Text

Possession | Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating: Mature Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Complicated Relationships, General complicated feelings, Dream is an IDIOT, they both have baggage, Past Relationships, Angst, OFC: Dahlia,1st POV

Summary: Lines are crossed.

3rd in the Fragments Series | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Previous in Series: Touch Starved Next in Series: Interwoven Chapter Warning: Trauma response, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, angst, toxic behavior, abuse, violence CHAPTER 3: How to Draw the Line Between Wrath and Mercy

Work the next day was a struggle. I felt drained, physically and emotionally. Waking up to an empty room always left a bittersweet taste in my mouth but after the night before I had felt even worse. The coldness of Morpheus’ voice haunted me throughout the day, mixing and churning with echoes of voices from my past. It was like being trapped in my own waking nightmare, something I hadn’t dealt with in a long time. The passing thought of “I should probably go back to therapy” rattled around but explaining that you were kinda seeing an anthropomorphic being in your dreams was a hard sale and definitely would have gotten me sent for a psych eval. I hated feeling like this. Sad and small and depressed, not quite knowing what to do. I had been so upset the night before, the news a shock to my system, but now I wasn’t sure what to do. He said I mattered, that I wasn’t exactly in the wrong for questioning but at the same time that didn’t mean he was going to start sharing. We were both blank books to each other and neither were eager to reveal the hidden contents. Anissa passed by my desk for a third time and I could feel her eyes on me, watching as I slowly typed in another report on the new release that had launched a few weeks ago. I knew she could see the bags under my eyes and the way my clothes were just slightly in disarray. After she circled back around for another drive-by, I stopped and stared straight at her. “What?” I dryly commented, raising an eyebrow at her. Her red brow lifted and she played off nonchalance, shrugging, “Nothing! Just seeing what you were up to?” “Mmhmm,” I narrowed my eyes at her, “Working, like you should be. Just spit it out, Nissa.” She whistled under her breath and leaned against the wall of my cubicle, “Someone sure is grouchy today, Miss Dahlia. I would say I’m sensing man troubles, but someone keeps insisting she’s not actually seeing someone.” “Because I’m not,” I grumbled. Last night made that clear…ish. Anissa clapped her hands, grin on her face, “Well good! Then you have no reason not to come out for drinks after work tonight!” I wanted to groan and say I wasn’t interested immediately. I wasn’t really interested in socializing and my stomach was already in knots since Morpheus had said he would make it up to me tonight. I was anxious, angry, hurt, not completely over what had happened and how I had so easily slipped back into my old trauma reactions. But I still wanted to see him, wanted that easy comfort we seemed to have around each other. I wanted him to like me. The small, indigent part of me reared its head up again. Why shouldn’t I? I had my own life in the Waking world, my own friends and goals and things I wanted to accomplish. It wasn’t all about him, waiting around to go to the Dreaming. At the end of the day, I didn’t get to stay there and had to come back to this life. It’s not like he had made the same effort to visit me that often outside of his own realm. It was dumb and petty but true. I could sit at home alone, moping and waiting to go to sleep, or I could go out for a bit, relax, and hang out with Anissa. She was a good friend if a bit of an airhead and a little self-focused, but I knew she cared. She’d been the first one to reach out when I got the job and been there through a lot of ups and downs. Why shouldn’t I go out with her? So even though my inner hermit wanted to scream no, I sighed and forced a smile, “Fine, I will go. But! I don’t want to stay out too long, I’m tired and want to get to sleep.” Because I had a date with the King of Dreams. She clapped excitedly, a grin spreading on her face, “Yes! Honestly, Dahl, you need a drink and I think it would be good for you to get out of that sad little apartment of yours.” I rolled my eyes and went back to my report, “Thanks, now go away.” Her laughter trailed after her as she walked away. I fought to keep the anxious need to cancel at bay, to find Anissa and say nevermind all the rest of the day. Bravery and frustration had fueled me to say yes but now as I waited for the day to end, I was regretting it. I wanted to go home and mope. But the clock continued and as the work day ended, Anissa swung by so we could walk out together and head to our usual bar down the road. Friday would mean after work happy hour and a crowd but it was a nice place and usually only inhabited by the older working crowd and not a bunch of drunk college kids. I pulled my cardigan close to me over my work dress, staving off the Autumn chill during the walk. “Alright, so spill the deets. What’s been going on with you?” Anissa said as soon as we sat down inside at a tall table in the back corner. Chatter surrounded us and the lights were warm and inviting as the jukebox played an older tune. “And don’t say nothing, you’re an awful liar!” she cut me off as I opened my mouth. I sighed, “It’s…just me getting stuck in my head. I’m just feeling a little insecure at the moment.” A waitress came by and took our drink orders and I defaulted to my usual cranberry vodka since I didn’t plan on drinking much and beer tasted awful to me. My friend narrowed her eyes at me, lips pursed, “This is about that guy you started hooking up with after Thomas, isn’t it?” I cringed at the term ‘hooking up’ but couldn’t exactly deny it. That is what me and Morpheus were doing, it just sounded odd in relation to Dream of the Endless, Lord of the Dreaming and King of the Nightmare Realms. “No-” “Dahl.” “Okay, yes-” I relented, groaning, “But it’s not a big deal. We’re not dating, it’s only something casual. I just…got confused about where we stood. It’s all taken care of though, things are fine.” She frowned, thanking the waitress as she dropped off the drinks and taking a healthy sip of her own, “You know when I said there’s no harm in having a little fun after a breakup…you usually don’t keep the fun around for long. Like then it becomes less fun and more messy. Feelings get involved, shit gets complicated, lines get blurred-” “Okay, I get it-” I cut her off, “I know. I know! It wasn’t like I intended for all this…it just happened.” Her face softened to sympathy and I knew she was thinking I was a sad lonely girl who didn’t know what I was doing. She wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t want other people to know that. She gave me a small, sympathetic smile, “Fun is good but I think you deserve someone that will make you feel comfortable, love you, accept you as you are! I know you’ve had some issues in the past-” “That’s an understatement,” I muttered. “-But! I know you deserve someone that will see it and accept it and be considerate to what you need. You’re having fun for now but maybe when the fun starts to make you sad, it’s time to call it,” Anissa finished. The ice in my glass clinked and I looked away from her to stare at my drink.

It sounded so much simpler in theory, but seeing Dream was addicting. I loved the Dreaming, I loved the way he made me feel and the attention he gave me, the way this being that had seen so much had decided that I was interesting enough to spend time with. But the thought left an acrid taste in my mouth and I felt an echo of my younger self. Sixteen and thrilled that a guy older than me thought I was beautiful, wanted to be around me. I took a large gulp of my drink, the vodka burning my throat and the sweetness of the cranberry coating my mouth. Anissa luckily changed the topic, switching to talking about work and her sister’s wedding that was coming up, throwing out the idea that I should join her for the holidays on a trip. I didn’t have any family and usually stayed home, drowning out the outside world, ignoring the commercials about family get-togethers and Christmas mornings. I let her ramble and take over, doing what she did best as I listened and nodded along. The bar grew more full, the crowd filling the floor and taking over the tables. Every now and then it felt like the space in my back was burning, like someone was staring and I was worried maybe Thomas had shown up, but when I looked around I couldn’t see anything. I chalked it up to my own paranoia, reasoning that he preferred the other bar further down the road. The time passed and I was getting ready to cut Nissa off and head back home so I could get settled and go meet Morpheus. It was getting close to the normal time I’d pass out and go there, something that had become clockwork over the past months. As I was getting ready to flag down the waitress, my friend grinned at someone in the crowd and raised her hand high, waving. I frowned and glanced over, trying to see who she was focused on and my stomach dropped slightly. I looked at Anissa and glared.

“Tell me you didn’t invite Cam?” I growled under my breath, staring her down. She only turned to me and smiled innocently, shrugging. “He must have just shown up!” she feigned nonchalance, grinning as our tall dark haired co-worker saddled up to the table. Cameron had started working in our department a few months back, but only recently had been added to our project group for one of the new releases. He was nice, sweet, lean with a mop of dark brown hair and tanned skin. Sometimes a little awkward, but we’d gotten along easily once we got to work together more. And he had a crush on me…as Anissa liked to mention all the time in her attempt to matchmake. He was a good guy, but I wasn’t really interested. Something I had told her before. Multiple times. “Hey, Cam!” Nissa cheerfully greeted him. He glanced my way with a small smile and I returned him, greeting him as well. He grabbed an empty chair and pulled it up, still in the same dark blue button up shirt he had worn at work. “Hey, Dahlia,” he nodded at me, rubbing the back of his neck. I sent a glance at Anissa, a small glare out the corner of my eyes, “Hey, funny to see you here. Did you only just leave work now?” Cameron shrugged, “Yeah, I had to stay late to finish up a few things since I’ll be out on Monday. That report Kransky wanted done was a nightmare and I knew I’d be getting a thousand emails while I was out if I didn’t finish it now.” Quarterly wrap up was soon and we’d all been stressed, but I didn’t envy him staying so late in the office, “Well I’m glad you got it knocked out the way so you can enjoy your time away from the office. As soon as Quarterly is finished, I’m half tempted to take a mental health day.” Anissa looked between us, abruptly standing up, “I’m gonna go get another drink! Cam, want anything? I’ll buy!” If I could burn her to cinders with my eyes, I would. I stared her down as Cameron looked at her, seeing her wide grin. He ordered a beer and I watched her disappear into the crowd, swallowed out of sight, and leaving me alone with him. The burning on my back intensified and I glanced again into the crowd, not seeing anything. For a moment I thought I saw the familiar shape of Dream’s coat but it was Autumn so everyone wore the same jackets. “Sorry for popping up,” Cameron started, wincing, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your hang out session.” I turned back to him and gave him a smile, “It’s totally fine. Anissa dragged me out here and we’ve only been chit chatting. No biggie.” He braced his elbows on the table, lips turning up in the corner, “Dragged you out, huh? Socializing that bad for you?” Laughing softly, my fingers traced circles in the condensation of my glass, “Not always. I think I’m just a homebody. I’ve never been big on crowds or even drinking, that’s more her scene.” “More of a books and tea kind of gal?” Cameron teased and swayed, bumping his shoulder into mine. I rolled my eyes, bumping his shoulder back, “Yes, I am that stereotype, thank you. I do work in the book industry, after all.” “There is absolutely nothing wrong with that!” he placated and grinned, “A good story can be infinitely better than being in a crowd while a bunch of drunken dudes shout at the TV and your shoes stick to the floor.” “Speaking of good stories,” I raised my brow and leaned in, almost whispering conspiratorially, “You hear about the Richard Madoc shit show? Thank god we’re not having to handle that.” The burning at my back continued and I rubbed at my spine, wondering if a bug had bit me or something that was making my skin hot. Cameron grinned, leaning forward, “I heard they found him with his fingers all cut up and writing in his own blood. Like how does someone even have a breakdown like that?” We talked about gossip and work, the different projects and complained about our bosses. At some point I glanced at my phone, seeing the time. I had meant to leave, meant to head back home. Our usual meeting time had come and gone somehow and a part of me felt guilty. But another part of me didn’t want to leave yet. It was small and petty, but it said fuck it. Like I had thought earlier, this was my life. It didn’t center around the Dream King and even if I wasn’t interested in Cameron, he was a nice guy and we got along well. He was still a good friend to have and I’m sure Morpheus had plenty to keep himself busy with until I would show up. So I stayed. I could be a little late, it was fine. He’d kept me waiting most of the night anyways. Anissa came back at some point, having taken a ridiculously long time getting drinks and brought me another as well. She had her own gossip to share and I ignored her knowing glances when Cameron would tease me, poking my arm or bumping into me. I wasn’t going to let her push me into anything and it was all good fun. “-you should have seen his face!” Cameron laughed, lifting the beer bottle to his lips, “You would think for a writer a few basic questions wouldn’t stump him.” I grinned and laughed, “That’s what I’m saying! I totally think it’s a ghost writer! If you listen to that man talk, he sounds nothing like his books.” “You guys are mean!” Anissa cackled, “Stop! I actually like his books!” Cameron and I looked at each other and busted out laughing again before he raised his brow, “Well when his ghost writer continues then you’ll have even more books to like!” We both laughed at her fake pout, her holding back a smile. Cam patted the table, pushing away, “Alright, I gotta go to the restroom real fast. Dahl, you want another drink on my way back?” I pointedly ignored the fact he had only asked me, rolling my eyes, “Of course you have to pee, that shitty IPA you drink wants to return to its natural form. And no, I’m good, thank you!” He rolled his eyes back, pointing a finger at me, “You lack refined taste! It’s a craft beer, it’s supposed to taste like pee!” I laughed and watched him walk to the back where the restrooms were before turning to Anissa and her shit eating grin. “Yall are so cute,” she cackled. “Stop,” I hissed but with a small smile, “I’m not interested. He’s a good friend, but I am capable of being friends with a guy without dating him.” She groaned and flopped forward, sprawling on the table, “But he’s so sweet and you can tell from a mile away that he likes you! Plus, a cute guy who is into books! Goldmine!” “That’s a pretty low standard, Nissa,” I deadpanned. “Ugh,” the red head threw her hands in the air, “Dahlia Morrowland, I love you. Dearly. But I want you to seriously consider something.” A lump formed in my throat, anxiety kicking off at the sudden serious tone she was taking and the way her lips turned downward, “Cameron is a nice guy who likes you. I know you’re attached to your mystery man, but I think maybe it’s time you consider an actual relationship with someone who isn’t going to lead you around because you deserve that after-” “Okay, Anissa, I understand your concern,” I cut her off, “It’s…complicated, but I’ll think about it.” She patted my arm, eyes full of understanding and sympathy, “That’s all I ask. Now, since Cam lovingly did not ask if I wanted another drink, I’m gonna go grab one. I’ll be right back!” I watched as she slipped out of her chair and made her way to the bar, the crowd having thinned out considerably now. It was close to eleven at night, now far past my usual bedtime, but the alcohol was loosening my nerves and I needed that. Needed the liquid courage to brave facing Dream again and the aftermath of our fight. Anissa’s words swirled in my mind though. Cameron was nice, but… I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready to end things yet with Morpheus and as he had said, I was his and he was mine. I didn’t want to give him up, didn’t want him to give me up. Sure, things were a bit of a mess and I really didn’t know where we stood with each other even with us claiming the other, but it was worth it still. I drank more of my watered down alcohol, the condensation dripping and sliding down my arm like a cool touch. In the blurred image at the bottom of my glass, I thought I could see two stars gleaming at me and I slammed my drink down, looking around me quickly. He wasn’t there, but out the corner of my eyes were glimpses of pale, alabaster skin and black ink hair. I looked again and there was nothing, but that feeling of burning pinpricks stayed on my back and I realized I knew what it felt like. Eyes watching me. The concentrated focus of magic and power. My heart seized and I struggled to swallow, hoping I was imagining it all or that the alcohol was causing me to be more paranoid. It’s not like I had done anything. I went out for drinks with friends. Sure, I’d picked that over being on time to a date with King of Dreams but it wasn’t like I was bailing completely. He couldn’t possibly be mad about that, right? There was a sudden commotion in the back of the bar, near the restrooms. Cameron came bursting out the door, the wood slamming against the wall and picture frames clattering to the ground. He collapsed onto the ground and started crawling backwards as he stared at the room in horror, panic causing his limbs to move jerkily. His face was drained of color and fear had blown out his pupils, sweat drenching him. The bar went silent in the wake of his frantic, desperate whimpers as he scuttled backwards and attempted to get to his feet. I stood from the table, shocked and worried, headed to him as cold dread settled into my stomach. He spun around, looking everywhere in terror as people tried to help him up and settle him. Anissa came up beside him and asked what was wrong, but he could only spout a jumbled mess of words as fear coated every inch of him, shirt rumpled. As I moved closer, the words, “. ..shadow…nightmare…monster… ” reached me as he sputtered with tears in his eyes. I stopped as he made eye contact with me, eyes widening even more, and he backed away. And I could see it in the eyes, the sheer terror of witnessing something that didn’t make sense but pure instinct driving you. Pushing the arms off him, he ran for the door and left the bar without another word, taking off at a dead sprint. Nightmare. My breath was coming in short, rasps as I stared at the door Cameron had run out of…and the black coat of the Nightmare King following shortly after. He’d been there. He wouldn’t. He had. I was staring but not seeing, the sound in my ear muffled as a high pitch screeching sounded over and over again. I couldn’t feel, couldn’t breathe. The room was a blur as I blinked unstaring at the door, ignoring Anissa grabbing me and asking questions. Morpheus had been there, watching me. Watching Cameron. I do not share. Anger burned white hot through me, burning away reason or logic or excuses. I had the vague recollection of Anissa trying to get my attention, but I couldn’t hear her anymore beyond the rage that flared through me. How dare he? How fucking dare he? I made an excuse that I had to head out and left the bar, not even feeling the chill on my skin from how hot I burned. The walk home was a blur, feet carrying me while my mind churned and churned. Morpheus had done something to Cameron, had scared him, terrified him, made him scared of me. What right did he have? Especially after the night before? My door was before me in a blink and even before I opened it, I knew what would be on the other side. Who would be on the other side. His power itched along my skin, expanding past the walls of the apartment, stinging and dangerous. The apartment was dark except for the moonlight coming through the windows. Morpheus sat on my couch, legs crossed, and drenched in shadow. Twin points of light stared at me from a cloaked dour face, arms crossed. His power was radiating and I knew that even if I could feel it through the door, he was barely keeping it leashed. The Nightmare King sat in the dark of my home as if it were his throne room and I was entering his domain. I slammed the door shut and flicked on the lights, blue eyes meeting mine. “Were you there?” I shouted, my bag thrown to the ground and my finger pointing into the distance. He didn’t shift, didn’t blink, only continued to stare at me with a face so pale it looked like moonlight and eyes that glittered dangerously.

My breath was coming out in heavy pants, drink turning sour in my stomach, “Did you do that?!” The Endless’ chin raised, high and mighty, lips pressed together tightly as he growled, “The mortal should count himself lucky for I could have been far more terrible.” I huffed out the air from my lungs in anger, disbelief flooding me as I placed my hands on my hips and stared down at the carpeted floor. Hearing it out loud, hearing him all but confirm his involvement, made it all sink in so much worse, “Cameron did nothing wrong, he didn’t deserve whatever you did!” “So you would defend him?” Morpheus asked with a curled lip. He stood from the couch, tall and dark in the warm light of my very human apartment. His coat bordered on solid and smoke, the edges hazy as he struggled to keep his mortal appearance. “I would defend a coworker and friend who didn’t deserve to have the Nightmare King sicced on him for simply being around me!” I yelled and stepped closer. Dream’s eyes were a swirling miasma of stars and chaos, almost black with anger as he towered over me, “Did nothing wrong? The mortal was clearly interested in you, kept touching you-” I shook my head, not believing what I was hearing, “Because he flirted with me, you punished him? Are you kidding me? Do you not see how that is such bullshit?” My blood was racing and fingers clenched into tight fists. Morpheus stepped closer, only a foot away so I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze, “You did not deter him and I warned you. I do not share. You were told that, told that I would not be able to control myself.” “Oh so you gave yourself an excuse ahead of time, wonderful,” I hissed at him sarcastically, “I’m so sorry, your majesty, I guess that makes it all better! I was being friendly. He’s just a friend. What, I can’t be around another man now without you freaking the fuck out on him but you can go see your ex-wife and I can’t say shit?” “That was different,” he argued. “It’s not!” I screamed and wanted to throw something out of frustration, “Fucks sake, for an immortal you seem like every other guy and their double standards. You left and didn’t tell me at all almost all night, but I’m just supposed to trust that it meant nothing?! Trust goes both ways, Morpheus! If you want me to trust you then you have to trust me.” “The mortal-” “Stop! This isn’t even about him really!” I pushed him back slightly, trying to get space, keep him from lording over me and talk down like I was a disagreeable child, “You know me! It doesn’t matter what he does, you should have trusted that I wouldn’t do anything! I would never have betrayed you like that, but you didn’t even give me a chance.” He snarled, “I did give you a chance. I watched you and not once did you dissuade his advances.” “Yes, you watched me which was a violation on its own,” my throat was thick with emotion, eyes stinging with anger and exhaustion and disbelief, “I have a life, Morpheus. I don’t get to stay in the Dreaming. I have to go to work, make money, interact with people on a daily basis. He’s my coworker, I work with him. If he asked me, I would have said I’m not interested but I was being friendly without making it awkward which is what humans do! So are you going to try and forbid me from being around other men?” The lights flickered and the air in the room was so oppressive it was hard to breathe, anger painting his face. I could see that red star in the shadowed half of his face, the way his jaw was sharp in rage.

He stepped closer and grabbed my chin tightly in his hand, forcing our eyes to meet, “I could. The difference between us is that I am a monarch with my own responsibilities that you cannot possibly fathom, not an indignant child to be berated. I will do as I wish as I see fit and the human deserved punishment for touching that which is mine. You did not come to me so I found you there with him. You have only yourself to blame for his fear.” “This is your fault!” “I did it because of you.” The memory seized me, hard and shocking. A different hand gripping my face in a bruising hold, spit and the hot smell of alcohol on my cheeks, hands scrambling for a hold as my balance was off kilter- My hand stung as it connected with his face hard, barely even shifting him as tears streamed down my cheeks. He didn’t react, didn’t move, fingers still on my chin. I pushed him, shoved, desperate and panicked like a wild animal until he let go and only the ache of his fingers on my face was left. “Get out,” I half sobbed, barely holding myself together, “Get the fuck out!” Anger still painted his face but it lessened as his eyes lightened and watched as I tried to keep from breaking down completely in front of him. His cheek was slowly turning red in the low light. My knees shook and I sank to the ground, hands digging into the carpet as I trembled and sobbed my throat raw. No sound except for my heaving breaths filled the room as I struggled not to hyperventilate, tears coming hot and fast. I wasn’t sure when he disappeared from in front of me, the air lightening a bit at one point, but I was too lost to even fully notice. I curled into a huddled ball on the floor, sobbing and wondering how it had all gone wrong.

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brainrotcharacters · 2 years ago

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@brainrotcharacters masterlist

(set during Inversion) I Was Going To. sfw. angst. Babe and Angel pov while waiting outside the ward. They try not to be scared. They fail.

(writing prompt not mine) "Your enemy stands before you bragging about how he can copy your power and use it against you. Learning that, you point out how dumb that is since unlike you, he has no experience using that power." - In The Middle of Nowhere. enemies to lovers but I cut it before they could be lovers.

(writing prompt not mine) "You became a "supervillain", not out of any particular desire to do evil deeds or take over the world or whatever, but just because your friend is a somewhat underpowered superhero, and you wanted to make sure they had a "nemesis" who wouldn't actually hurt them." - My Bitch My Buddy.

(writing prompt not mine) "Pick a god and pray" - Pick.

(Logan/The Worst Wolverine x Wade Wilson/Deadpool) - The Almost Breakup. sfw. angst action. What would it take for Wade to want to get rid of Logan?

(Logan/The Worst Wolverine x Wade Wilson/Deadpool) - Real and Mine. sfw. angst fluff. occurs after the events of the movie. demanded by the gods.

(Klahadore/Kuro x fem!painter!reader) Colors - fluff. no established relationship. reader paints and sketches. requested by angeli-fucking-cat

(Nami x fem!reader) Drink - fluff. no established relationship yet. sfw. female reader. it's a meet cute where alcohol was involved. requested by 0amy5.

(Nami x fem!reader) - fluff comfort. sfw. female reader. domesticated moments of dating the girlboss. requested by fairy-geek-ackerman.

(Luffy x reader) Lifeline - angst comfort. sfw. gender neutral reader. I thought my meltdown was done but it wasn't, so I chose the live action as a coping mechanism.

(Price x filo!141!reader) Legacy - angst comfort. sfw. gender neutral reader. I awakened my daddy issues and create a little something for the platonic dad Price lovers of the fandom.

(Ghost x 141!reader) She Wasn’t Always Like That pt 1 pt 2 - angst comfort. sfw. she/her. In Ghost’s humble opinion, the rest of the world isn’t appreciating her as much as they should.

(MCU crossover) MCU Moon Knight + Scarlet Scarab come to Talokan - sfw. headcanons.

(MCU/COD crossover) MCU Falcon as a member of 141/Los Vaqueros - sfw. situationship.

(Morpheus x f!OC) The Flying, The Falling - comfort. sfw. she/her. I remember the last dream I had where I flew, and I completely used it as reference. no use of Y/n because I said so.

(Steven x Marc x Layla x reader) You all right, love? - angst/comfort. sfw. she/her. mentions of suicide and death. Layla only arrives near the end. now beta'd.

(Steven x reader) The Home I Choose - sfw. she/her. Steven and reader simp for each other, established relationship, reader writes to cope but can't write

(Steven x Marc canon timeline) Not Without Steven - Steven is rejected by the Field of Reeds, told through Marc's perspective

(Steven x reader) Name Me - she/her. Steven vs reader's parents, obvious avoidance of a last name, Steven fighting as Mr. Knight, reader gets kidnapped, crime + violence + blood because it is the spine of every superhero project ever, idk how sedatives and adrenaline shots work, reader is also a dual wielder.

(Marc x reader) With me, sweetheart - sfw. she/her. Gender neutral reader. marc’s love language is actually sparring.

(Layla x reader) The Blue - sfw. she/her. reader uses painting as an outlet, reader's period doesn't sync with Layla's, established relationship, metaphorical dialogue, angst/fluff

(Layla x Marc x Steven post-canon timeline) All It Took - spectormobile is featured which means Jake is lurking but not addressed, Taweret the therapist friend

(Matt Murdock x reader) - Not A Bother If It's You - sfw. she/her. mutual pining, parents worry about their child's future, angst comfort

(Ayato Kirishima x f!human!reader) - You're a ghoul? Cool,cool. - she/her. established relationship

#eliza is sort of good with words #eliza writes #brainrotcharacters #brainrotcharacters masterlist

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ibrithir-was-here · 2 years ago

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So I've sat down and thought out a really basic Actual Sort of Plot for my Crack Treated Seriously thing for my OC Thanastasia and the Corinthian xD

For wibbly wobbly Crack Plot reasons, Ana gets pulled into the Sandman universe in the 80s, and after she's done freaking out about it, she starts doing what she does best-- hunting monsters, both supernatural and mundane.

And the 'Collectors' soon have a killer terrorizing them.

The serial killers start to call her things "'The Angel of Death', due to how she can appear from seemingly nowhere, has superhuman strength and speed, and never fails to kill her target.

There's only a few eyewitness reports of her, from the victims she's saved, who give fuzzy reports about shining white hair and red eyes.

Ana both in her own reality and in Sandman survives by drinking the blood of the killers she takes out, making sure to slash their throats to cover up the blood loss/bite marks.

But the Corinthian gains an interest in this new and clearly supernatural player, and starts trying to seek her out.

He's originally only interested seeing just what she is and then in clearing her out of the way

But after finding her and getting the fight of his life out of it, ending in a draw, he's genuinely impressed, and more determined than ever to figure out just who Ana is, ao he invites her home for a beer.

(Ana can eat/drink human food a little but its like junk food, it does nothing to keep her actually full or healthy)

And so begins their own weird sort of Morpheus and Hob meet up, only instead of 100 years its The Corinthian seeking her out every six months or so to see if one of them has gotten good enough to kill the other yet.

And they fight tooth and nail before getting a drink and talking a little bit more about themselves in the vaguest terms as neither is about to admit they're from basically a parallel dimension/universe, even if they can both tell the other is paranormal

Ana is incredibly weirded out by this whole thing at first. She's somehow gained a charming and murderous stalker who's an even match for her so she can't kill him

And she can't report him or the police are gonna get onto her tail for all the killing she's done/having no real IDs/living out of a car she stole

But despite herself she finds that she kinda looks forward to the fights/drinks?

All her other friends are back home and with all the traveling around she has to do to keep ahead of the police and all the criminals/monsters trying to kill her she hasn't had time to really make new ones

So The Corinthian becomes this one weird stable thing she has where she can be her full self and (mostly) not worry about it.

(And he is almost supernaturally charming)

Things hit a turning point when some of the other Collectors /or maybe some vampire hunters or both together teamed up manage to track down Ana and try to kill her

But luckily for her the Corinthian has been keeping an eye on her and shows up to help in the fight, as now in his mind he's the only one with a right to kill her---and he really doesn't want her dead yet

They manage to take out all the attackers and The Corinthian takes Ana back to his safe house/apt to patch her up cuz she did take a beating

And she's having a bit of a panic from the adrenaline and trauma of almost dying since her attackers where actually prepared to fight a vampire

So Cori starts telling her random stuff about his past in the Dreaming to help focus her mind back on the present. And she ends up finally telling him her name and some more about herself and her past and they start seeing some real parallels in each other

Cori sees a lot of his younger self in Ana, her dedication to what she feels is her calling, and the loyalty she feels to the person who inspired her, along with a lust for life mixed with anger at how she can never truly escape being a vampire even as she tries to turn her hunger to fit her views.

And Ana sees in him something of what she might have become under different circumstances, harsher, angerier, bloodier. But with those same confused mix of passion and trauma and desire to twist what you can't escape to your own will, rule it instead of letting it rule you

Ana ends up spending the night on the couch, and when Cori finds out she's been living in a car he gives her a standing invitation to drop by his place whenever she needs a safer place to crash

And this starts the phase where they stop trying to kill each other and start gravitating towards each other, both becoming enamored against their better judgment of the opportunity to have someone actually know them--and have that mean something safe and maybe even soft, instead of something to be worried about.

This is when Cori starts offering to let Ana drink his blood when she needs it as he's not human and won't die or turn if she does

(These are older pictures with their modern day designs but it still works)

And she knows this won't help the attachment issues she's trying to fight but honestly she's so tired of running and killing and he's offering…

And they're dancing around the growing fondness they have for eachother, something more than friends but less then lovers and honestly they're both happy with it like that

But they kinda just keep getting wound up tighter and closer while both knowing that eventually something will have to give. One of them will have to finally cross over to the other side if they want to stay together or they'll have to go back to trying to kill each other eventually with one of them succeeding.

And …i haven't figured out the exact ending but they're definitely 'broken up' by the time of the show--but that ring on The Corinthians wedding finger is Ana's

They've only ever literally slept together, no sex, a few kisses maybe. I can't see either of them wanting the other that way but they're something special to each other, and maybe they only got married for tax or hijinks purposes and they're for all intents and purposes divorced now-- but he keeps it still...

#my art #my writing #dang my 80s Corinthian looks like Malibu Ken xD #the corinthian #thanastasia thresher #my ocs #the sandman #sandman #corinthian #vampires #tw blood #CorinthiAna

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