#the sandman female character

[azi-sings-calliope]

The Sandman female characters - why are they buried?

I'm gonna make a series of my thoughts on the female Sandman characters, both critiques of how they're treated and appreciation posts for them. (These are just my opinions, everyone is entitled to their own) Hope you enjoy!

Also tagging @thesandwomen because I'm also very curious to hear your takes on her.

Part 1: Rose Walker

As a character, she gets an obscene amount of hate. Even her actress was bullied terribly when the show came out (which is a whole other issue).

The thing with Rose Walker is that she's strong, complex, powerful, but not in necessarily always visible ways.

She's making her own way in life, traumatized but loving, ambitious and creative. Her inner dialogue and workings is complex and tragic but not in always... I guess cinematic or traditional ways.

She shows the realistic side of someone, specifically someone growing up through tragedy.

She's endlessly creative but she's cursed as this Vortex which destroys and she can't escape that, unless she dies. While she's going through all this she's dragged for not being more dynamic or charismatic.

I found Rose Walkers character to be awfully realistic, because in my eyes, a way of interpreting her story is that one of a young woman, growing up, promising and creative, has been pushed down by society and other people's actions against her. She's creative, loving, ambitious, searching for her brother and making a life for herself. But then she's pulled down into this Vortex, this series of awful and inexplicable events where things are happening around her, she knows she's causing it, and she can't stop it, and the only way to solve it is to die and leave a life she has fought for so hard.

Strange people are telling her what to do, she doesn't understand it entirely, but she does it to the best of her ability. She pushes back at them (Dream and the Corinthian) at times, because what else can she do?

In the end, she ends up with one of her last living relatives dying in front of her and realizing there was no other way for it to turn out. And she's hated, because throughout these events, she isn't entertaining enough.

I'm not someone best suited to talk on the racism that undoubtedly impacted how the fandom impacted the character, but it's worth noting that racism certainly played a role.

Rose Walker shows the sides of a character, specifically a young, strong woman character that I feel like isn't often marketed.

Some of those who claim "girl power" dislike her because she isn't what they're used to seeing. I'm not claiming that she's revolutionary, I'm saying that she IS that type of character, portrayed perhaps more realistically.

She is powerful but she's not cocky and smiley and she won't punch you in the face. Female characters are only perhaps worth paying attention to if they have any qualities that are surface level beneficial or amusing to the audience.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that Rose Walker is disliked because she's realistic, she has no amusing qualities.

Female characters often have stock marketable traits, such as humour, physical strength, or maybe magical. It's almost as if they're being paraded around, but not as a celebration but as a freak show. These are fake empowerment characters, and I feel like a lot of the basis for initial main female characters in big media pieces was written like this.

Rose Walker has marketable traits, but mixed in there are the real thoughts of a young woman, panicked and trapped and loving, and deeply honest. And it's honesty people don't like.

A young woman's struggle isn't fun to watch, it's not funny, there's no action, it's realistic.

I'm not trying to call her the female character of all time, I'm just trying to articulate my thoughts.

Rose Walker can make people uncomfortable. A female character not being pushed into the box of marketable, but real.

I think it's telling that we as a fandom dismissed her because of her lack of marketable qualities, because if you look deeper into the character, there's so much more.

Anyway, I hope this didn't come off as too rant-y, and thanks for reading!

[thelastofthebookworms]

Please reblog if you want others to vote. I'll make polls with other female characters (co)-written by Neil Gaiman, don't hesitate to mention your favorites if you don't find them here.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster 8

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

Chapter Warnings: SMUT A/N: So... I did a sneaky in this chapter. First one to guess correctly gets a 500 word Sandman drabble (you can give me a prompt or let me go wild - your choice). This is the biggest tender!fuck I've ever seen. Like damn. It's an important beat between chapter arcs, and there are some themes/hints ya'll should really take note of. For reasons. All I want for my birthday are comments, my dears! <3 Thank you for your ongoing support.

8. Seal

What happened?

Creeping out of the fog, she swept together the distant pieces of her waking mind, looking for a thought, or a plan, or…

What happened?

She’d had a wonderful dream. Safe. Warm. Happy. If she could fall back asleep and drop back into that place – those arms – she would, but a sleeping mind never followed the same course. She was waking, and it was over.

But she didn’t remember going to bed.

That was all right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten drunk or collapsed after days without sleep. Not a problem.

But –

She hadn’t set her wards.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand sprang out, reaching for the bag of black salt she always kept near her bed in the van. Anything could come, anything could already be there. As she jerked to consciousness, full of half-remembered terror – the mirror, the unseelie, her skin, the dress – long fingers caught her flailing hand. They wove seamlessly between her own, pulling her attention down to starry eyes. Soft lips pressed to her knuckles, calling her back from the brink of delirium.

“All is well.” Morpheus’ thumb rubbed along her throbbing pulse, distracting her from her panic with tactile affection. He read the beat as her memory settled, as she recalled where she was and what they’d shared. He must have felt the spiking rhythm, too, judging by his smirk.

He was beautiful. And definitely naked under the grey silk sheets that gathered over his waist.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words as the butterflies she thought she’d banished sprang back to life in her stomach.

“Hello.”

Yes. Excellent. Definitely the most romantic greeting after waking up for the first time in a lover’s bed. In her fucking eldritch soulmate’s apparent love nest, actually. So far as she could tell, they weren’t even in a room. She could see him easily, but beyond the place where they were lying, she could only see vague, bushy shapes that could’ve been clouds or trees. Lights flickered in them. Maybe stars. Possibly fireflies.

No visible exits. Not even a floor, in fact.

Though it wasn’t like she was in a rush to leave.

“Hello.”

Following his gentle tug, she sank back to rest on her side, facing him.

He was so beautiful. She’d already thought it, but damn if it wasn’t worth thinking twice. With his disheveled raven hair and self-satisfied expression, he looked at least half as debauched as she felt.

Which reminded her.

Oh shit.

She was naked, too.

Her free hand moved towards the sheets that had fallen all the way to her thighs when she sat up, but his disapproving pout made her second guess herself.

Covering bare skin was instinctual. Especially after everything she’d suffered in –

No, no. Not thinking of that. She physically shook her head to banish the flashes of pain and fear trying to manifest.

She was safe. She was happy. Her Dream was real, and she could be vulnerable with him in this world apart. Nothing would hunt her here. Nothing would dare. He would avenge and protect her.

Carefully, consciously, she let her hand drift from the sheets, and Morpheus smiled in the wake of her decision.

“My love,” he purred, looping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, “I want you.”

He nuzzled into her neck, kissing under her ear and finding new places her blood pounded under her skin. She found herself trying to remember language, how to speak in anything but sighs. Prince of Stories. Right. Whatever. Prince of Carnal Brainmelt more like. He made it impossible to think, working little bites over her flesh as he continued his eager assault, leaving her squirming, and desperate, and tongue-tied.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them burning far below her skin. Below flesh and bone. Stars were only cold because of their distance, and she was much too close to see them as anything but suns. She knew it was reckless to look, to stare back and let the heat blind her, but…

She couldn’t pull away now, even if she wanted to. He didn’t need prison bars and pansies to trap her.

Panting, she finally strung together an answer. “I want you, too.”

Her words brought him back to her lips, and he wasted no time licking into her mouth, sharing his heated groans. One hand slipped around to cradle her head. The one he’d used to reel her in crept down, brushing along her waist, squeezing her hip, and settling on her thigh. Strong fingers pulled her leg over his hip, and she groaned back into their kiss as his clear desire brushed her clit.

He didn’t press, only dragging himself through her folds as he explored her mouth. When she stopped for breath, he kissed under her chin, palm flexing just over her knee. She writhed with his slow strokes, enjoying the moment but far from satisfied.

“I need you.” Kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, she sang her yearning. “I need you, Morpheus.”

Her words found him and burned the way his eyes flamed in her soul. She saw them kindling in his gaze as he pulled away to watch her face, swallowing every flicker of expression as he teased her entrance. And pushed inside.

The world hummed.

It was all beginnings and endings and discoveries. Dream was himself, and she was with him.

He moved so slowly, and she clung tight, shaking as the pleasure built with the inexorable pace of sunrise. Clutching his shoulder, his back, she fought to keep breathing, to keep her head above water as he pushed and pulled inside. Gods. He’d drown her, and she’d gladly find death here in his arms.

“You asked what I want.” He wasn’t as helpless to his physical manifestation as she was to her human body, but his rough voice proved how she affected him, and a sunburst of pride glowed in her breast. “Perhaps I was dishonest with myself. I want the measure of your dreams and your waking hours, too.”

He hunted for her fear, waiting for the golden moment to snap under the weight of his confession. His searching eyes flicked over hers, desperate but guarded. She didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything. But she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t threatening her – this was an invitation. And she could only invite him back, let him feel the truths she couldn’t name yet.

Her hands settled on his face, trying to soothe the needles of anxiety, his anticipated despair. She offered more kisses, pulling at his lips, welcoming and reciprocating each touch in an effort to reach deeper. Too feel even more.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and he rolled half over her, leaving his sedate, almost drowsy lovemaking behind. Still tender, but openly needy, he picked up speed, using the new angle to his advantage.

She thought she’d been breathless before – fuck.

“I want… a life. A story. You.” He was begging. Commanding. On the cusp of claiming his own dream.

He didn’t take. He shared. They gave and met in true union, tasting elements beyond bodies to melt through time embrace destiny. A snare of their wyrds. A welcome loss wrapped in discovery.

Her heart would burst. There wasn’t enough of her to hold the love for something so vast as her monster, her Morpheus, and as he hiked her leg even higher on his waist, she grabbed him by the hair. She needed him. She needed his kiss, his breath, or she’d fall apart. He obliged, but she knew she’d go to pieces regardless.

As his thrusts grew more erratic, she broke.

The most exquisite destruction.

He pushed as deep as he could reach as she pulled out his own end, but he didn’t give her space to breathe. Rolling again so she was half draped – entirely boneless – over his chest, he kept his defiantly hard length inside. She’d have rest, but no peace.

Stroking her hair, he murmured into the crown of her head, “Stay, my love. I’m not ready to let you go.”

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Just to minimize my chances of being genuinely misunderstood OR deliberately misinterpreted, and crucified for something I don't think, How Dare You Say We Piss on the Poor website etc...I'm gonna say this right up top. I absolutely understand why people don't like Thessaly as a character, if anyone does completely unironically stan her as some kind of feminist hero who Did Nothing Wrong uwu, I personally see it as a bit of a red flag. I don't like terfs real or fictional. In a vacuum, I could even completely sympathize and agree with the people who want her cut.

HOWEVER.

It's really something to me to see people clamoring for her to be cut, because she carries and expressed an ugly indefensible prejudice (transphobia) in words towards (1) person. Meanwhile Hob fucking Gadling enacted one of the most violent forms of antiblack racism I can even think of against thousands no, millions of people, the ripple effects of which still affect billions more today. Just a little light idk, profiting off the fucking slave trade and had to be told by someone else that it was bad...and he's a fan favorite.

People are saying Thessally being Dream's love interest reflects badly on him or is somehow endorsement by the narrative (?!?!?!?!?!? Didn't she (SPOILER ALERT AS IF IT MATTERS BY NOW) help participate in his extended assisted suicide? She's not painted as a great person to me just another character what are y'all SMOKING whatever fine. It's fine this is fine.) But shipping Dream with Mr. Former Slaver is not only not verboten or frowned on widely in the fandom but its THEE most popular pairing by far. So...why the difference?

Like where are the same fans who are saying Thessaly shouldn't just be more clearly shown to be wrong, she shouldn't even be in the show at all when it comes to Hobert's crimes??? Yes, transphobia is indefensible. Isn't racism?

And I hear the cries of "it's fiction!!!" Already rallying (if anyone who needs to hear this even sees it lol) to which I say:

HORSESHIT. I KNOW you don't, deep down, really agree because if you did, why get upset about Thessaly being included??? Why does what she said to one person matter if it's Just Fiction You Guyze. Fictional characters are allowed to do bad things and fiction isn't reality sweaty....except when you only apply that standard to fictional racists you like and simp for, but fictional transphobes you don't are SO HARMFUL they shouldn't even be portrayed in fiction.

Like. Give me a big fat BREAK. This looks like bullshit, no? I'm sorry, but I'd love for someone to try and give any other explanation besides one personally offended you or hit home for you, and the other doesn't.

And if that bothers you or you feel like it says something negative about you...idk what you want me to say??? You can't control how other people perceive you and that's how people outside this majority-of-the-fandom bubble see it. You don't need to respond, I just wish and genuinely hope this gives you a moment to think about why fans who ARE bothered by both (and not just paying lip service to being bothered by the one but railing against the other) are so frustrated with people saying everyone is welcome but in practice only bending over backwards for the comfort and emotions of themselves, and people they can easily relate to.

You don't have to like Thessaly (I don't. I find her an interesting antagonist, I don't stan her. And frankly imo likability is not. the point of her character) but you'll pardon me for feeling more than a bit cynical and side eying people's motivations for what seems a...pretty obvious double standard, on what fictional crimes related to real world issues matter to y'all, and which clearly don't. Either actually bring the same energy to the table for fictional people who committed atrocities, even if against a group you're not part of and thus don't feel the need to empathize with, or just carry on, but accept that you don't have the SLIGHTEST room to talk about cutting characters who do immoral things. And you also need to accept that you look like a hypocrite when you do.

[morpheusbaby3]

I love how Morpheus is The Sandman but he is constantly humiliated or berated by women. I especially like when Lucienne does this, in canon or in fanfics.

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Fics and Poems

The list gets updated regularly, and I love your comments and thoughts (no, it’s not weird to interact, it’s what fandom is about)…

Fics

Lupē (one-shot for Sandman Rarepair Fest, Ao3) or Tumblr (completed, 615 words, Calliope/Morpheus)

The Self-Love, Sex and Pursuit of the Helm Novels: A Tragicomedy in Three Movements (Ao3) (crack fic in progress, ~4,500/app. 7,000 words, Morpheus/The Helm)

The Light of Stars Tumblr Master Post or straight to Ao3 (completed long fic, ~ 75,000 words, Morpheus/OFC)

Snow Globes and Whisky (one-shot for Christmas, links in with “The Light of Stars”) (Ao3) (completed, ~2,500 words, Morpheus/OFC)

As It Was Before The Otherness Came (one-shot for Sandman Femslash Weekend) (Ao3) or Tumblr (completed, ~3,700 words, Johanna Constantine/Rachel Moodie)

Poetry

Aftermath and Dreams of Light (poems for Sandman Rarepair Fest)

Ode to Death and Requiem (poems for Death Appreciation Week)

Sandtober/Inktober 2023 Haikus (Ao3) or Tumblr (completed)

Incandescent Light (the prompt poem/vignette hybrid that sparked The Lightbif Stars)

Series

Check out the ongoing Dream’s Therapist—a tragicomedy straight from the therapist’s couch…

To avoid disappointment: I don't write for the big ships because

a) I am generally not a shipper and

b) they tend to be m/m, and as a bi woman, my main interest is writing m/f and f/f. It is important to me to write female protagonists, and I prefer to write from a female point of view—her feelings/wants/desires and sexuality without the detour of projecting them onto a man.

Apart from that, I love myself a good crack fic and rare pairs, and you will definitely find those. I only started writing fanfic in 2022, and I spent most of that time writing a longfic called "The Light of Stars". I am fairly proud I saw it through, and the sequel is in the making (apparently, people liked it: Can I just say how excited and grateful I was when someone gifted me the Literary Badge? Thank you, you know who you are 🥹).

TLoS is a Morpheus x OFC fic, but it is not a self-insert or Y/N-fic. I am fairly prickly about that distinction because fandom's tendency to throw them into the same pot regularly drives me up the wall. I write OCs professionally (albeit in a language other than English), so the assumption that they are all straightforward self-inserts always seemed fairly odd to me…

I also love writing short-form poetry—you might find the odd one here, too.

Link to full pinned post with all my stuff

[asimperingswannsong]

A Helpful List of Links:

Wednesday:

Larissa Weems/Alcina Dimitrescu

Rosemary’s Mother 1 2 3 4 5 6

Larissa Weems/Wednesday Addams

Larissa’s Reluctant Romance 1 2 3 4 5 6

Larissa Weems/Ceto (OFC)

Fluffer Fluff 1 2

Larissa Weems/Reader (Requested)

Another Dismal Dance 1

Sandman:

Lucifer Morningstar/Alcina Dimitrescu

The Lightbringer Helps a Lady Drown 1

Game of Thrones:

Brienne of Tarth/Lyla Mooten (OFC)

A Spouse for a Ser? 1 2 3 4 5

Star Wars:

Captain Phasma/Torbi

Torbi’s Journey 1

Flux Gourmet:

Jan Stevens/Deslys (OFC)

The Silent Type: 1 2

The Darkest Minds

Lady Jane/Artemis Carvall (OFC)

Arte’s Intruder 1 2

Personal History of David Copperfield

Jane Murdstone/Almitra Hobbes (OFC)

Miss Murdstone’s Crooked Path 1

Non-Gwen Content

*until someone in charge rectifies this by casting her*

Lady Alcina Dimitrescu (RE8)/ Hetaera Hofer (OFC)

Abject Devotion 1 2 3 4

[b-plot-butch]

"lucienne and death aren't shown as anything other than the supporters of white male characters in the show so that's why i only write them as such in fic" so what. not only is that FALSE, there isn't any graphic tentacle porn in canon either and that doesn't stop anyone from writing it, does it?

[peachesofteal]

Dream of the Endless Masterlist

Main Masterlist

All works are 18+ Minors DNI

Lavender for Luck - Witchling series - fic complete. one shots ongoing. You try to stay away from other magical beings, on principle. The Fragile Ones - one shot Endless aren't meant to love such fragile things. A Tear in Your Hand - fic complete 49.6k words - AO3 only There’s a writer in the Waking World, spinning stories so unimaginable that even the King of Dreams is intrigued. Silent All These Years - series ongoing - AO3 only - Act 2 of ATIYH A story cannot spin itself, especially when the threads of fate have become tangled in an Endless. In the Woods - fic ongoing - AO3 only Mirror mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?

Musings: Tell me Noodles Restless Monster

[greeneyedsigma]

Having talked about Sandman, allow me to tell you about how I imagine Frost. Female Frost specifically, because whenever a game gives me a faceless pair of arms, I tend to project myself onto them...and I am a shameless genderbender, lol. This is going to be another long one.

Sergeant Deena "Frost" Westbrook

33 years old

Pale skin, pale blonde hair and white/blue eyes. One of the two reasons people call her Frost. (The other reason is because she's the master of the icy stare and icy silence.)

5'9, on the curvy side. The military being the highly sexist place that it is, she's been given shit for...just wearing a regular old uniform. Once accused of "being obscene" by a colonel who could keep his eyes (or his hands) to himself. Busty through the chest and muscular thick through hips, thighs and ass. To quote Sandman (in response to the Colonel's bullshit), "Don't give her shit just cause she fills the uniform out a little bit better than the rest of us. She's wearing a regulation uniform with no issues. Just because you can't look at a woman without getting hard doesn't mean Frost should be punished."

She joined the military when she was 23, shortly after she finished college. Enlisting rather than going to OCS (officer candidate school) was a big old middle finger to her dad, General Abraham Westbrook. He wanted her to become an officer, to make him look good, to do the same song and dance as her brothers, plus the added desire for her to hook a high-ranked officer husband (sexism again, thanks, Dad). He disapproved of her enlisting. He disapproved of her joining Delta Force. And he most certainly disapproved of her relationship with Sandman. Frost doesn't really talk to her dad anymore.

She's a jack of all trades when it comes to weapons and skills. If Sandman needs something done, Frost is his go-to.

She has a low tolerance for sexist bullshit. Upon meeting Graves for the first time, she put him into an armbar for calling her "darlin'" and asking her to "be a doll and grab me a coffee." Sandman doesn't even ask if he sees her kicking somebody's ass. Knows she can handle it. Price told Graves it was his own fault. (There exists a list, unbeknownst to Frost, Sandman keeps of men on his shitlist for being douches to Frost. He updates it regularly)

Would pay money to see Sandman in a pair of sweats and nothing else. She is very open about what she likes. And what she likes is Sandman's butt. Once drunkenly invited Price to join her and Sandman in bed. When told later, after she sobered up, stood by that invitation.

[rudie-wr1tes]

Endless Passion - A Sandman Fan Fiction

I. White Noise

Synopsis: A young sleep psychologist has made it her life's duty to rid victims of chronic nightmares of their demons forever. And if it means finding supernatural artifacts to complete her life's devotion, so be it. Reality-altering power in the hands of a mortal... What could possibly go wrong?

An elder patient rested in a dark room in nothing but a backless hospital gown, waiting upright in a chamber of salted water, warmed slightly to her preference. White noise filled the space, soothing tension in her shoulders and stiffened neck. Nurses prepared her, sticking small probes to her temples. But she was numbed to the sensation. All she could focus on was her fatigue. Nights were terrors. She spent her lifetime taking stimulants to block them. Nightmares plagued her thoughts, nothing an herbal remedy could repair. But only one was her last hope. 

A voice broke over the floor’s intercom. 

“Erin?” a gentle voice called over the intercom,  “Erin, can you hear me?” 

The elderly woman nodded slowly, as the nurse stuck a final probe to her temple. A nurse handed her a microphone. 

“Yes, Dr. Kanaka, I hear you.” She said, her voice frail, cataract tainted eyes trailing over to the one way window, where she saw her reflection, and not who stood inside. 

On the other end of the tinted glass, the owner of such a tender voice, was that very psychologist. The young woman smiled, nodding in reassurance as if her patient could see her. Dr. Kanaka’s dark curls were pulled back in a chignon, soft tendrils falling loose and framing her rounded face. Small flicks of liner graced her doe eyes. Her rosebud lips pursed softly as she spoke into the microphone again. Her fresh face contrasted fatigue that often came with nightfall, a drop of sun in the dreary observation room.

“Okay, Erin.” She said, “Now, remember what I said to you yesterday?” 

“No, not really.” Erin replied, “I’m sorry.” 

The sleep psychologist working with Dr. Kanaka heaved a sigh next to her behind the observation booth, pinching her nose. 

“No, that was a bad question.” she chuckled, “Just try and relax for us. I know it’s a little odd sleeping in this water, but we’re just trying to study how your brain works when you’re sleeping, okay?” 

“I’m sorry if I scream.” Erin said sheepishly, “It gets rather frightening, but the warm water will help.” 

“I know it does.” Dr. Kanaka reassured, “That’s why Dr. Mapu and I are here. We’re here to help.” 

Dr. Mapu reassured Dr. Kanaka with a glance, despite the doubt behind her eyes.

“It’s time, Sabine.” She uttered. To some, the doctor could come off brash, but it was just her tone. Sabine knew Quinn well to know she wasn’t crass to the old woman’s case. 

“You can rest, Erin.” Sabine said as the nurses left the room, dimming the lights to a gentle amber. Camera footage flickered in the screens before them, focusing on both her brain and body. Erin’s wrinkled eyelids fell shut almost immediately as she laid back in the salted water. 

Sabine flicked off the microphone with a painted red nail, scratching the neck of her turtleneck. 

“Well, here we go.” Quinn sucked a breath, her notes at the ready, “For someone who struggles to sleep, she sure doesn’t have a problem now.” 

“She’s been awake for three days.” Sabine replied dryly, studying her patient’s face, “They’re getting worse. It doesn’t make any sense. No brain tumors, no history of dementia or alzheimer's. The trauma we flushed out. But the terrors she describes….” 

Quinn’s eyes scrunched into a scowl as she read Erin’s file cover to cover. She shook her head. 

“I mean, the depression was terrible obviously. Generational trauma, war, inflation, divorce, miscarriages. We flushed out everything and now we’re onto this occult-” 

Sabine hushed Quinn as the nurses entered, waiting on standby in case Erin suffered from a heart attack. 

“Hello, ladies.” She said, “Oh, and Karl.” 

Karl waved in the back, all watching Erin. 

Quinn bit back a laugh as Sabine leaned in, jaw tight. 

“It is not occult shit.” She argued while mocking her tone, “It’s an ancient text I saw. About helping someone get rid of bad nightmares. And I think it can work.” 

“That fuckass dreamstone you were talking about?” Quinn remarked, “What, like you went through a mountain on some sort of adventure to find it?” 

Sabine paused for a moment. She looked down in her lap, taking a breath. 

“It’s going to be a long night.” Sabine muttered to herself.

Quinn ceased to speak, looking at her partner as if she lost her mind. And maybe she was correct. Sabine had been chasing the origins of the dreamstone ever since hearing its origins, making dreams into a reality through manifestation. She slipped into the pocket of her coat, thumbing the icy surface of the crimson gemstone, glowing warm in her hand. Her finger nearly pricked the edges of its golden casing.  Her focus was only on her patient. 

Ninety minutes passed in silence and occasional small talk, note taking of the brain waves until she descended into R.E.M. Quinn queued in, pointing a pencil to the scanner, Erin’s brain swept in vibrant shades of blue and green. 

“She’s doing so good so far.” Sabine observed, “For now, at least. It’s never the first ninety minutes. It;s what happened after.” 

Erin twitched, her brows knitting in concern. This was her cue. 

“Here we go.” Quinn nodded, “Now what?”

Sabine remembered everything Erin told her- growing up on a farm in Indiana, Sunday dinners and holding hands in prayer. Being carried over the threshold of her first home by her husband. Imagining a world where war never touched her home, where she could see her cats all over again, where she could see her son not be lost to Desert Storm, and her family was together again. The beauty of these dreams. She also remembered what got her through nightmares. Her father’s voice singing her to sleep as a sick child. Holding a crusty cat in her lap and watching television at night. Journal pages to fill it. Reassurance from a kind face to listen instead of calling her crazy.  Hands holding each other as she got bloodwork done. A kind smile from a doctor with good intentions. The power was overwhelming, the rush filling her with a state of euphoria- and yet, the power felt natural, as if she spent her entire life missing something, the ruby returning in her hands. A ripple simmered through her core. She watched in delight as Erin seemed to relax. 

“It worked.” Sabine said under her breath, “Quinn! Guys! Look over-” 

Everyone was asleep. Quinn flopped back, her mouth wide open in a low snore. Which was an unusual side effect of the ruby. Sabine noticed this when she first tested it in her apartment- the entire building barely stumbled out of bed by the time she came home from work that following morning. The intention wasn’t as bold then. She hoped to god someone didn’t crash in their car from falling asleep. 

This was the second patient whom she helped. The first was her sister, without her knowing, who suffered from nightmares and darkness that she would carry to her grave. Now she marveled at Erin, who seemed to relax her entire face into a warm smile. Sabine leaned into the mic, focusing on the ruby. 

“Let the light outshine the darkness. You are safe. You are loved. Your brain is in survival mode and you deserve to remember the light.” 

Nine hours passed and her brain was at normal levels once more, in comparison to three months prior after suffering from a heart attack out of fear, the difference was night and day. Erin commended her, as well as her second son, who was fatigued but just as grateful. 

As Sabine and Quinn exited the sleep center, Sabine found herself yawning, rubbing her eye and forgetting that the eyeliner on the corner existed. She cursed herself. 

“Well, you wanna get breakfast?” Quinn offered, squinting her eyes. Both women were tall, but Quinn was tall enough to block the sun, even for a moment. 

“I wish.” Sabine sighed, “But I have more notes to make. I think we can adjust the strategy we used today-” 

“Girl, be serious.” Quinn put her hands on her hips and stopped her in the parking lot, “Sabine, I have to ask. Are you okay?” 

Sabine scowled, “Uh, yeah, why?” 

Quinn arched her brow, “You’re throwing yourself into your work. You barely answer my invites to hang outs… You’re obsessed with this whole art, which is fine but like… Is that all?” 

“I have to.” Sabine argued, huffing, “People need my help. I found this amazing thing and… I need to reach more people. This could help so many people get rid of their nightmares. Heal them entirely. And have them sleep better from now on. I’ve seen so many patients struggling to find peace at night and I can’t either until we give them the last few years of their life mercy.” 

Quinn nodded, her gaze softening, “I’m worried about you, sis. Are you sure it isn’t-” 

“No.” Sabine quipped, “It’s not about my grandma, it’s not about my book being rejected  to be published. And it sure as hell isn’t about Alex.” 

Quinn sucked her teeth, “I’m just saying you’ve been a little too preoccupied. You do this. You don’t want to face what’s head on and focus-” 

“If I wanted to be evaluated I’d make an appointment.” Sabine snapped, side eyeing her work best friend. But the insult fell flat, her voice too vulnerable to the jab. A creeping sensation fell over her left shoulder. She checked then, wondering if someone was watching. With the dreamstone in her possession, who knows what coud;’ve pursued her? Quinn snickered, her laugh making Sabine want to laugh even though she was pissed. 

“God damn.” She laughed, “Maybe while you’re dreaming, you can find that lanky little white boy in all black you mentioned months ago.” 

“He was just a pretty face.” Sabine rolled her eyes, smiling, “I’ve seen that face at one point in real life, which is why I dreamt it. It didn’t happen suddenly. Probably just some residue from all the fantasy novels I read in high school and wouldn't shut up to you about.” 

“Whatever it takes bestie, because you need a nap.” Quinn remarked, “Allright, nerd, I’m heading to brunch. You go take your nap, and call me when you wake up. We’re going for drinks.” 

“But Quinn, I-” 

“I don’t want to hear it!” Quinn said, “You are twenty-five years old. You never do anything for yourself. You've dedicated a quarter of your life to this project, more than I ever could with my left fucking hand. You need a break! Now go and get your juice bottle, get your weighted blanket, and rest. You need it.” 

Sabine gave in and sighed, “Fine.” 

“Atta girl.” Quinn unlocked her car, “Let me know if you see Dreamboat again. And ask if he’s got a hot sibling.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sabine shook her head, “If I can get a word in.” 

As both friends parted ways, Sabine’s mood dropped- the sensation of being watched crawled up her shoulders and spine, knotting tension into them. She looked to find its source. A man stood across the street, his figure soon disappearing into a crowd of faces. Before blinking, there were two things she remembered. She was overthinking it again. He was gone in an instant. 

In silence, she returned to the comforting monotony of her apartment, curled up beneath blankets with her tuxedo cat. As she stared at the floor to ceiling shelves of dream journals before her, her thoughts rummaged back to the parking lot. She recalled the figure. He was a strange man with straw blonde hair and rounded glasses was standing at the edge of the street across from them. She had remarked in her head the sad beige phenomenon memes posted about, recalling his suit. The chummy, customer service smile glued onto his face. Something wasn’t right. Maybe he was new. Or drunk. Or just odd. She shrugged off the sensation of being watched, returning to sleep again, hoping to discover something new in the world of her dreams. 

However, something wasn’t right. She was waiting for a sense of awe to come over, after doing what she always hoped- to relieve those suffering from nightmares to be healed. And yet, something shifted inside her. Kalea, her sister, should be at school. She hadn’t had a text from her all day. She quickly got up from her bed, hurrying to the bedroom across the hall, leaving the little cat to be the dreamstone guardian. 

The door creaked open loudly, a dim shade of light washing over the edge of Kalea’s floral bed sheets. There her sister laid, in the same position as she did the night before, when Sabine used the dreamstone, frozen in content sleep. Sabine furrowed her brows. 

“Kalea?” she called in a soft voice, “Kalea, don’t you have an exam today?”

The nineteen year old did not respond. Her eyes fluttered, her long hair laying over the pillow in black ribbons. Sabine sat beside her sleeping sister and rubbed her arm. 

“Sis, don’t mess with me right now.” Sabine remarked, “Come on. Are you that tired?”

Even as a child, Kalea pretended to be asleep to sneak out of chores and school. Sabine huffed, assuming that it was just that. Maybe the night terror from before was so exhausting, she had tuckered herself out. 

“Fine.” Sabine mused, “It’s your grade anyway. I’ll see you later.” 

Sabine failed to notice the way the dreamstone glowed a searing red beneath her own bedroom door. Her cat scrambled out from the cracked doorway. It was calling to someone- or something beyond anyone's understanding.

[beautifulsnake2162020]

Title for my Phantom of the Opera fanfic

There are going to be some Sandman elements (but POTO is still the main lore of the story).

To those who wants more details of the story and who don't mind getting spoiled more details are below the Keep Reading line.

Okay so for those of you who want more details and who don't mind getting spoiled:

1.) So Female OC is essentially Sensuality of the Endless and is the second daughter of Dream of the Endless (from Sandman) and my other OC Life Incarnate:

2.) Among her siblings she is the one seen as the monster among her enemies and all the otherworldly beings (Gods, Spirits, Aliens, etc) in general because as the personification of Sensation she is generally blamed for the irrationality and erraticness of feelings and yet she is also near irresistable (like her older relative Desire);

3.) A common anecdote about her is that you are luckier if you are a mortal because she has more room for mercy, while if you are a God there is only more room for cruelty;

4.) The distinction between her and Desire of the Endless is that she only represents sensation "Sometimes feelings are nothing more than fleeting visitors." You may feel pain but you may not desire or want it - that's the difference between Sensuality and Desire;

5.) Her domain also includes how a being perceives the world (Perception is reality - Josh Scherer 2024 "Try guys ruin Ravioli - Phoning it in"), so a being's ability to see, to hear, to sense pain, to find equilibrium and sense temperature - that's under her domain;

6.) The reason why I made her as Erik's partner/soul mate is because I like the dichotomy of Erik because of his experiences couldn't help but doubt whether someone genuinely romantically loves him because of his hideous face and so he has to resort to actions that make him monsterous to the point wherein he sees himself as either the Faust figure - desperate to feel the worldly delights even if it means selling his soul to the devil himself; or the Devil himself and he is just awaiting for his soul to go there. Meanwhile Sensuality, one of the most attractive beings in the Universe and who can form herself into anything her desired suitor wants - after the initial wave of infatuation from her suitors they end up blaming her or resenting her (I'll show more in the fic), and the few whom she wanted to make as her consort ends up always rejecting her. Both of them question whether someone genuinely romantically loves them or if it is mere pity, compassion, infatuation, or ambition;

7.) This is why it's a polyamorous fanfic - Sensuality is intentionally pushing Erik towards other people so that he will know whether or not his feelings for her are actual romantic love or if it's merely the effects of her nature and domain;

8.) To the Sandman fans who points out that there is a prohibition of the Endless falling in love with mortals otherwise said mortal is doomed - don't worry I made a loophole. Since her mom is Life Incarnate whose very job is to be within the cycle of Life, Death and Rebirth, Sensuality and her siblings could fall in love with mortals as long as it is within a mortal lifetime (Desire and Despair messes with Sensuality's head about this in the story); and finally

9.) I like the idea of two sets of soulmates (Erik and Sensuality; and Raoul and Christine) balancing each other out and entering into a fourway marriage. I fell in love with several Erik x Christine x Raoul fanfics but I also couldn't help but worry that Erik is sometimes left out of this throuple. So I made yet another self-insert to help remedy the situation.

That's all I could divulge without simply writing the plot summary here.

[thelastofthebookworms]

Yes, some characters are still missing. You can only have 10 options per poll. I'll make others, please keep mentioning female characters you'll like to see (yes, I noted Death already).

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Promises Five: The Hunt

Dark!Morpheus x (female)reader, fantasy/medieval AU, 18+

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

A/N: I'll offer song recs to folks who are interested in asks! Still dealing with some mental health issues, but pushing through. HOLY SHIT THE NEXT CHAPTER. 0,0 Liking is sweet, commenting is divine. Talk to the lonely hermit, people. Her dog is tired of her shit.

The hounds sang after the hinds, and their masters followed them under the trees.

In the distance, the high castle sat like a toy house from which all the dolls had escaped, spreading their games and pageantry through the forest with bells and horns to warn away the deer and fox. Huntsmen released other deer, fox, and fowl from prearranged cages out of sight of the king and his swarm of courtiers, so the dolls could play pretend at feats of skill.

The bard kept to the back, holding a tight rein on her grey mare – who didn’t understand why she couldn’t stop and graze if the bard insisted on moving so slowly – in the company of the ladies Alder. Eilwyn, who’d visited the bard’s chamber two nights past, glimmered and glowed, illuminated like a piece of art in the dappled sunlight and the eyes of a few dozen would-be suitors. Officially, no one could pay court until the Endless had his pick. Unofficially, Eilwyn had received six declarations of love, five bad poems about her eyes, one good poem about her hair, and an uninspired puzzle box containing a gaudy necklace without a single gem of value.

Eilwyn loved it all, of course.

But as the younger woman amused herself snaring hearts for her collection, the bard conversed with the Dowager Alder, Eilwyn’s grandmother.

“The city lights are unbearable,” the elder Alder insisted. “My eyes are bad enough as it is, but when every street and tavern glows like the moon, I can hardly make out the planets with my telescope, let alone the fainter stars. With the travel time, I’ll lose whole weeks of work, and gods know if I’ll be alive to note my calculations this time next year.”

Manly shouts and howling dogs suggested something ahead had died, or was about to. The bard wondered how many of these fools in their fine furs would discover the material cost of bloodsport when they couldn’t scrub the stains from their velvets in the morning.

“You say that every year.”

The Elder Alder, on her aged palfrey, squinted at the green canopy shielding her beloved sky and tutted.

“And one year I’ll be right, like I always am in the end.”

The woman was an astronomer, a mathematical magician, and the idea of death hadn’t scared her since the bard first met her as a young maid. The wheel of the heavens moved before her, and it would move after, and that was well enough if she could just understand the damn thing before she shuffled off this mortal coil. She’d written books, and papers, and more books, and the bard wondered if Death would really hold off until the universe held no more mysteries. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Of course, Lady Alder.”

Arthritis had long-since gnarled the lady’s hands, and they twisted over the saddle pommel and a hank of her horse’s main like knobby cypress knees, straining with the roll and sway of her palfrey’s gait.

“How far is the damned camp?”

Another lady – one of the fools hoping to wed her daughter to the Endless riding very far ahead near the king – seized the reins of her precious child’s horse and passed the odd trio. She did not look to the side. She did not look at anything. She lifted her nose far too high. And she nearly trotted over her own servants in passing.

The bard waved, and the daughter gawked with wide eyes as she was spirited away from poor influences and dangerous words. Really, any damage was already done, and fleeing the scene of battle only showed weakness. What kind of lesson would the girl really learn besides the fact that her mother enjoyed making a spectacle of her piety? Parents really had the strangest ideas about children.

“Grandmother!” Eilwyn exclaimed, clearly delighted.

The bard, equally delighted, couldn’t help herself. “Such language from so fair a lady. Shocking.”

The Dowager shifted in her saddle, face puckered in discomfort. “Hush, the both of you.”

Oh, if only she could. She laughed to imagine how much pain and trouble might’ve been saved. And how many adventures missed. They never would’ve been friends at all if the bard kept her own counsel.

“You expect a bard to hold her tongue?”

“The sun will freeze first.” The Dowager made a point of staring down her granddaughter, though, and her granddaughter made a point of smiling very prettily in reply. A lord several lengths ahead called for Lady Eilwyn’s attention, and she brokered an armistice by riding out of her grandmother’s line of sight entirely, leaving the two old companions to fight their own wars.

“My old bones are not made for riding.”

A jolt of pity seared the bard’s belly like the pain after eating a rotten fish. She’d rather purge it and be done, but the prickling discomfort would only grow with age. There was no course but to swallow it down and imagine it hurt much less than it would in time.

“Why didn’t you take the coach then? It could’ve brought you in comfort.”

Swollen knuckles flexing, the lady scoffed. “With the rest of the invalids? Don’t insult me.”

“But it’s so much fun, old friend.”

“Old,” Lady Alder muttered. “Yes. I am that.”

The bard shifted in her own saddle, wondering if she could stomach any of the inevitable banquet awaiting them.

“That wasn’t the word I’d hoped you’d echo.”

An eye sharper than any hawk’s pinned her from the side, and she felt like a child caught sulking. “If you need reassurance as to that, then you are not half so clever as you make yourself out to be.”

She seized on the opportunity for levity and smiled with all her teeth. “You’ve known me for a fool many years, have you not?”

“Aye, but a clever one.” The lady considered. “Most days.”

“Such praise you give me.”

“You fished for it so often the lake is empty.”

“Unfair but not untrue.”

The lady hummed her affirmation, welcoming in a moment of calm as they road in the wake of the hunt’s chaos.

Ahead, those most eager to prove themselves brought down smaller prey on their way to the day’s camp. Once all had a chance to refresh themselves with wine as their horses grazed, most would sally out again in the name of dead beasts. Dusk would bring them back, and they’d spend the night drinking, feasting, and debauching one another just outside the safe ring of torchlight, pretending to be very daring and wild for fucking someone in a bush.  A bit more hunting in the morning for those who could still sit straight in the saddle, and then all would return bloody and victorious to the castle.

The bard struggled to understand those who found the prospect of a royal hunt… thrilling. None worried to go home hungry, and the creatures they met in the wood came hobbled, with teeth filed and tusks blunted.

Rushing down a winding stair risked greater peril.

Bored by the day’s excitement, she let her thoughts spin out in wider and wider passes, circling the crux of the drama.

What did the King of Dreams dream of?

Revenge, she suspected. Vengeance on the king that may boil over on the land he ruled, and she must guide her favorites out of the flood’s path. Those practical answers satisfied the part of her that always craved a direction, a purpose, the next challenge to conquer, but the Dream King’s retribution sat like a wax seal over a longer letter. She would very much like to read that letter, even if it was dangerous, and unwise, and entirely reckless.

The Prince of Stories must have depths unfathomable, millennia upon eon of secrets and experiences carved into his bones. She wanted to dismiss her curiosity as nothing but interest in a vision of her future. Would she be like him in another thousand years? No. She’d still be human, and he was Endless. All the lifetimes of the Earth couldn’t teach her to understand one such as him.

But that didn’t mean she had no desire to try.

From farther up the line, a runner came jogging, peering up at the faces of the mounted company. He looked from one to another, seeking the right address to receive his message. The bard paused, recognizing the Everard house colors on servant’s tabard. Her horse stamped, whickering around the bit as her rider leaned out of the saddle to catch the young man’s eye. He saw her and darted to her side quick as an arrow.

“Is all well?” the bard asked.

“My lady Alis Everard and my lord Tomas Everard request you ride with them.”

The bard looked to Lady Alder. She hardly needed her friend’s permission, and none of the Alders were the sort to cherish grudges over perceived slights. But the bard didn’t want to leave her to ride alone, either. She needed good conversation and someone who cared enough to notice if she swayed on her horse.

“Oh, go tend to your nervous foal.” Lady Alder waved her off. “My own proud filly will see you pass and return to keep me amused. We favor different arts, but she has a sharp enough eye to see trouble riding by.”

“Thank you.” The bard pulled out of the column of riders, careful to avoid the servant at her side. “I’ll see you at the camp.”

Whatever Lady Alder replied was lost to the wind. Finally given her head, the bard’s mare leapt into a canter, her hooves thumping a second heartbeat that rattled up and through her rider. Old loam and the sharp green scent of freshly broken twigs gathered around her like a cloak as she moved just left of the path, removed from the rock and dust of the road.

The bard knew what colors to look for, and she let all definition blur as she moved past lords, ladies, knights, and their scores of attendants. They all looked so strange and out of place in the tunnel of green woods, dressed to stand out in a part of the world where blending in more often preserved life.

Near the front of the cavalcade, she found the Everards. Alis stared with wide eyes as the bard pulled even with her, mare prancing and snorting in frustration as her run came to an end. Her dramatic entrance pulled other eyes, and the king – only a few riders ahead – glanced back with frustrated disgust. Perhaps she should apologize that she wasn’t a stag. For all of the ruckus she’d heard from afar, she saw precious few carcasses dangling from the hunters’ belts.

“Thank you for coming in such haste,” Lord Everard said. Stifled amusement plucked at his lips, trying to lift them into a broad, laughing gale. It would be bad manners to laugh too loudly too near the king over a jest to which he wasn’t party, but Everard clearly struggled.

She answered with the grin he’d tried to school away. “Best way to travel. Now, what is the matter?”

Lord Everard gestured to his daughter, and she in turn tried to sink into the mud of the forest track. She hunched low, like she could melt into her boots. Her complexion had gone pale, despite the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, and her gloves creaked as her dainty hands squeezed into fists. The bard let the merriment fade, looking and listening beyond the girl’s silence.

Alis’s doe eyes flicked towards the shadow who rode beside her king, and the bard understood.

Dream of the Endless wore his customary black, with the blood-red ruby shining on his breast like a heart he’d ripped from his prey. His nightmare mount had teeth where it ought to have eyes, and it laughed with a man’s voice. He carried a raven on his shoulder rather than a hawk on his glove, and anyone who hadn’t met his sister may mistake him for an aspect of Death. Or something worse, perhaps.

Lord of Nightmares indeed.

“He frightens me,” Alis whispered, leaning close. “I’ve had nothing but bad dreams since I came to the castle.”

As she should. A glance at her father confirmed he thought the same. Just because he’d been forced to bring his child to this storm didn’t mean he didn’t fear the lightning. He had too much sense for this farce and too big a heart to let the girl suffer. If his wife were not busy running the estate, she’d be here to shelter and comfort their little girl, but in her absence, he must ask the bard to fill the role, and she gladly pulled Alis’s attention from bad dreams to simpler truths.

“And you’ve never had a nightmare before?” She didn’t chide. She reminded. Even in the security of her own bed in her own home, the girl had touched the darker shores of the Dreaming. Its king would not reach out to swallow her now, even though he prowled so near in the Waking. “Alis, believe me, you are safe.”

Alis pulled her spine straight, taking a deep, intentional breath that shuddered on the way in and trembled on the way out.

“Do you promise?”

“I promise that if I’m wrong, I’ll find a convenient sword to fall on, and you can say you told me so. Does that make you feel better?”

“A little.” Realizing what she’d said, Alis blanched and rushed to add, “But only because I know you’d come back!”

This time her father did laugh, and the bard reached to reassure her with an honest to gods giggle, when chaos erupted at the front. The king and his companions came to a dead stop, and without warning or order, those who rode behind struggled to halt in time. Rearing horses and shouts of alarm rolled down the line like a breaker, and in the wave of confusion that followed, the bard once again left the road to circle forward.

They’d reached the camp.

A glory of golden stitching over swaths of emerald, the vast tents might cover an entire town, and smoke rising with the smells of rosemary and stewed venison hinted at the delights within.

The display paled behind the entity waiting at the edge of the woods, however.

Golden eyes like licks of flame from the sun’s heart smiled over ruby lips. Welcoming and menacing and all-too pleased with themselves.

Power perfumed the air, like honeysuckle and ambergris, clashing with the winter-cold snap of Dream’s clear displeasure. The King of Dreams had lost the veneer of humanity, and he set himself against the intruder like the deepest hour of the night resisting the dawn.

Few creatures could stand up to the king’s guest. Even fewer commanded the presence of function beyond personification. The bard did not know who the stranger was, but she knew what they were.

Another fucking Endless.

Every inch screamed of passion, romance, obsession. Golden hair and loose-fit silks that flowed like water into a garment that was neither tunic nor gown inspired sensual curiosities. They rode a unicorn, a bay mount with cloven hooves, a lion’s tail, and a goat’s beard. The russet horn glinted with flecks of gold, like treasure winking through a smear of blood.

The King of Dreams sneered, lip curling as he shared a frigid greeting.

“Sibling.”

The Endless in their path laughed, bright as bells and smooth brandy. It sounded to the bard’s ears like trouble. “I hope you don’t mind if I join in your hunt. Big brother.”

[mobumi]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, i started to write my answer and completely forgot about it. It's been in my drafts for months, i feel so bad omg! 😭 It was also really difficult to choose and i have only two female characters i am truly ashamed... But thank you very much for this ask, it was fun!

Here's my top 10! 😊

1. Mob/Kageyama Shigeo (Mob Psycho 100 - Anime)

I love him so much! I think he has the most wonderful character development in any anime i've watched! He has such a pure soul and compared to other shonen MCs, he just wants to be a normal teenager and be happy. So much growth and strength with this character, i love it! The series finale was incredible and I was so happy for my boy🥹

2. Megumi Fushiguro (Jujutsu Kaisen - Anime)

I think he's an interesting character with so much potential for the future. I love the way he always appears reserved and cold but he's actually a softie on the inside and how his own sense of justice contrasts with Yuji. He's just a pretty cool character and stronger than he appears to be and he cares so much about his friends. Haven't read the manga but currently watching season 2 so I'm excited about what's in store for him!

3. Dream of the Endless (The Sandman - TV)

New favorite character alert!! Not a surprise 'cause my favorites are always the cold and broody ones tbh I just love how Dream is so imperfect and still learning and his whole vibe, the long black coat and the emo hair like he's in a indie rock band is just chef's kiss! Incredible character on the show, so charismatic and mesmerizing.

4. Five (The Umbrella Academy - TV)

At this point, there's a pattern here. Maybe it's because i'm an INTJ myself, but Five seems like he's very INTJ to me. It's just the whole attitude and the way he calculates and plans everything, very rational and precise, sarcastic and (though pretty mean sometimes), exactly how i like my characters! All his scenes are top tier and his power is very cool (not explored enough on the show unfortunately.)

5. Minho (The Maze Runner - Book series)

The sarcastic character? Asian as main? Hell yes! Finally more Asian representation and not stereotyped! The book series would have not been as good without him! I was pretty gutted when he was barely there in the Death Cure movie, but Ki Hong Lee was so great as Minho, he perfectly captured his smug and smartass attitude that I fell in love with. He's also very courageous and loyal to his friends which I love too. Overall a very cool character!

6. Deadpool/ Wade Wilson (Deadpool - Comics/Movies)

Deadpool is just Deadpool... Bro he's just vibing killing people or whatever. He's completely unhinged, crazy, over the top and just a fun ride. Pansexual king! What else can I say, he's just one of my favorite comic book characters ❤️

7. Miles Morales (Spiderman - Comics/Movies)

Another comic book character in my list. Miles is a cool addition to the Spiderverse and the movies they made are just INCREDIBLE! The animation, everything is top notch. Also Miles is very relatable and has an intesresting development. You get attached to him quickly and he's just so lovable, idk he's my son, i stan.

8. Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf - TV)

Honestly asfghjkl!! I've always loved this character, more so when i was a teenager watching Teen Wolf. Looking back now, the show was not that good but at the time I was pretty obsessed. Stiles was everything i loved about a character: funny, sarcastic, entertaining, likable... He made the show a lot better and kept me watching! He's low on this list only because i'm not into Teen Wolf as much as i was back in the day.

9. Sana Bakkoush (Skam - TV)

She's so cool?? I wish i had been like that when i was a teenager, well for the most part lol. I really like her unbothered attitude and her snarky comments. She is fierce, not afraid to say what she thinks and is loyal to her friends and trustworthy. She's a teenager who has still a lot to learn but she's already wise for her age and just a good character overall. I really like female characters who are confident and charismatic! Her season wasn't perfect, but for me she was the best character in the whole series 😊

10. Sidney Adamu (The Bear - TV)

She's last on the list mostly because she's a new favorite, but she's very cool. I can relate to her, she's fresh and real, she knows her worth, she's courageous, hard-working and just very lovable as a character! Sydney captivated me from the beginning and her scenes were always my favorites. Haven't finished season 2 yet but I can't wait to see where her character goes! ✨

[morpheusbaby3]

I was watching Calliope's episode again and I understand more and more why Morpheus loved her.

She is indeed powerful. I'm not referring to magical power or her being a goddess, but she is a POWERFUL WOMAN.