Xlili-lyraterx - Oneirataxia

📝 Emotion, atmosphere and environment: A writing exercise for show-don't-tell

Before we go any further, I want to make it clear that I'm not aggressively against telling. Sometimes telling works for a whole bunch of valid reasons. If you know me at all, you'll be aware of where I stand on the issue of narrow, prescriptive writing rules (if you don't know me, hi, I despise narrow, prescriptive writing rules)

But "How do I show instead of telling?" is still a thing a lot of newer writers have difficulty with and that's what I'd like to dig into. So here's a writing exercise you could try to help build depth and atmosphere around the emotion your character is feeling...

🧠 First of all, pick an emotional experience.

For illustrative purposes, I'm going with LOSS. Then express that emotional experience in ways that can be perceived physically. The following are just suggestions, not an exhaustive list.

🎨 How could the emotion be expressed as a colour?

Grey, maybe. Slate grey. Or a muted petrol blue, perhaps.

🔊 How could the emotion be expressed as a sound?

Deep silence interrupted only by the sound of a ticking clock.

👋 How could the emotion be expressed as a physical action?

Your hand reaching to grasp for comfort out of habit and hope, fingers curling around something remembered, then dropping back to the coldness of the other side of the bed, empty.

🌄 How could the emotion be expressed as a weather condition or natural phenomenon?

The storm passed an hour ago, leaving only an occasional flurry of sleet that melts on contact with the window, sliding down the glass like tears. Outside, a tree that shed its leaves in autumn bows in tired silhouette against the halo of a single streetlight.

🏡 How could the emotion be expressed as a room?

Your nightstand holds the bottle of water you filled before trudging upstairs at midnight, your phone still plugged in even though the battery was full three hours ago, and the glasses you'll put on again as soon as you wake up after sleep eventually manages to swallow you. The nightstand on the other side of the bed holds a small tear-off calendar showing November eighteenth even though it's now January second and a book lying open and face-down with the spine sinking into itself. In the corner of the room, there's a chair with clothes carelessly draped over it a month and a half ago that you still can't bring yourself to put in the laundry. It's four o'clock in the morning and you'd give anything to hear breathing that wasn't your own.

You could try it for different emotions and different situations, in isolation and then connected to something you're in the process of writing.

How could anger, for example, be expressed differently in an office environment compared to a wilderness landscape? How could joy be shown in summer versus winter? How could fear be embodied in high fantasy compared to cyberpunk?

If relating environments to emotions doesn't click for you straight away, could you focus on single-sense experiences for a while? What colour is regret? What does anticipation taste like?

If you have synesthesia (hello, fellow synesthetes!) this could be a wild ride, but hopefully it'll also be fun and useful for anyone having difficulty connecting to the idea of show-don't-tell.

Happy writing! 💜

Promises Six: The Patron

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

Master List

Chapter warnings: language, violence, (temporary) character death A/N: You're all fucking fabulous. 💖Aiming for another update next week. Wish me luck.

Only two thrones waited in the main tent. The king’s servants rushed to move a third chair to a place of honor beside them, layering it in swaths of silk and velvet designed to hang over the canvas walls, like they could veil the differences in quality and size with a few curtains.

They needn’t have bothered.

Lord Morpheus refused to sit as his sibling lounged on their impromptu throne with the grace of a cat and a shark’s smile. Familial enmity crackled around the two like a storm, and Desire basked in the attention. The King of Meiren hovered, clearly aching to take his seat, but anxious should he disrespect the guest who would not.

Quite a tableau. If only the bard could paint.

She saw her patrons settled before she went to study the drama unfolding around the two Endless and the king who would dare consider himself an equal. Even the most delusional suitors kept their distance now. Alluring as Desire may be, they did not hem in the waves of power as their siblings did. The bard recognized the overwhelming presence of an Endless even when they tried to shutter the worst of the tidal crush when walking among mortals. She’d felt it with Death. She felt it with Dream. But Desire didn’t even pretend to care for the humans’ comfort.

Every scent was sweeter in their presence, every whisper of taste carried on the smoke of the outdoor cooking fires a draw to addiction. The company looked finer. Everyone murmured about the heat and struggled to meet each others’ gaze as they shifted in their tight clothes, fanning away glittering drops of sweat that drew the eye down, and down, and down to the curious places hidden from view by cloth and lace.

Plenty of mistakes would be made that evening. More than the usual wild carousing inspired by fantasies of bloodlust in the woods. She’d already advised her friends and supporters to avoid as much of the spectacle as possible. To keep a hair pin in their pocket to prick themselves and their loved ones back to good sense if needed. She pointed out the horse troughs and water buckets, and reasoned the king couldn’t complain if a few members of his court felt poorly and left before dark after such a long day.

She couldn’t follow them back, of course. Her curiosity forbid it, and she wanted to be near if a spark caught that might ignite the entire kingdom.

Desire made no effort to hide their conversation from the fragmented assembly. Most were too busy wrestling with their influence to take notice, but the bard knew Desire’s family, and – what was far more important – she knew herself and her desires too well to be so easily swayed.

“I heard you’d been offered a bride, and I simply couldn’t help myself.” Desire treated the seat more as a kind of low couch, spreading over the arms in a pose to draw the eye to their long limbs and fiery eyes. Their red lips looked bloodstained as they grinned. “And a mortal at that. What could have possessed you?”

The king stuttered to join in the conversation, his eyes so dilated even the bard could see the dark hollows swallowing his mind. “I-I offered, your… grace? A bargain for the King of Dream’s aid some years ago. He has not chosen, but there are still many days…”

“Hmmm.” Desire dismissed him effortlessly, not even bestowing a wave. Their eyes never turned to his face, and the king finally slumped into his seat, unseen and unheard by his betters. The bard had never seen him so cowed, and gods knew she’d put in the work.

“An offer only.” The Dream King’s hands flexed into fists. Although the bard had thought he couldn’t grow any paler, his knuckles looked deathly white against his pallid skin. “I have accepted no one, and no one in this host has so inspired my attention or affection.”

Somehow, Desire’s smile grew wider, and as they let their head fall back over the arm of their throne, they chuckled through their teeth. “I wonder, big brother. Really, I do. Ah, well.” They straightened, spinning with unnatural fluidity to properly face their kin. “At least I didn’t miss the hunt.”

The close air within the tent fostered the unnatural heat. It stuck to the roof of the bard’s mouth, and she licked her teeth to scrape it off her tongue. The warmth ached where it dripped into her chest, clenched and hungry for every good and wicked thing she could not or should not possess. Her dead mother’s hand to hold. A good cup of tea in a quiet place beside a trusted friend. Wind in her hair, songs in her throat, and someone –

She left the tent.

Out of sight, the waves of Desire’s power didn’t strike with such force, and the bard walked with her hands on her hips, taking deep breaths of fresh air to clear the scent of longing.

A breeze cut through the clearing where the king’s court set camp, and she imagined it cleaned the stench of foiled passions as it combed through her hair, that it brushed aside the bitter shards of unshaped dreams from her mind.

Sometimes she forgot how much harder intrigue and politics were to wash off than dust from the road. It worked into crevices and scars, surprising her with old filth every time she thought herself free of it.

Her time with the Endless would stain her, surely.

Her mother’s acquaintance with Death left more than a mere mark. If she wasn’t so proud of her own legacy and legend, she’d say it defined her. If she had any sense, she would’ve stayed with the dragon and sung him pretty songs until the Endless had fucked off back to the realm he governed. When Desire appeared, she should’ve turned her mare around, packed up her things at the castle, and left a note of apology. But she hadn’t. Couldn’t, honestly. She wanted to know. She wanted to see. She wanted to witness history – or add a few lines of her own.

Really, what was the worst that could happen? She had manners and a frustrating inability to die, so the chances of lasting consequences for her recklessness were slim.

Gradually, her hands slipped off her hips, and she felt she could breathe easily again. The world wore familiar shades, and no one’s power but her own threaded through her blood. Half finished stories and snarls of old songs half forgotten filled her head. The air tasted of dirt and smelled of sweat. All good and human things.

Strolling through the camp, she found an old fortune reader laying out her tools on a red blanket. The woman chose her spot well, a patch of shade that would only grow as the sun set, just beside the smaller tents where the noble families rested.

The bard nodded in passing, but a wizened hand seized her wrist, bringing her up short. Stumbling to a halt, she blinked down, bemused, but only a little surprised. The woman didn’t have many other customers passing at this hour, when most were resting or preparing for the hunt, and plenty of folk stopped the bard in the street.

All her cards, bones, and runes sat in tidy piles and dishes, untouched, but the reader glowered at the bard with a fortune on her lips.

“You have already caught your doom’s eye.”

Smiling, twisting her wrist in a vain attempt to thwart the old woman’s grasp, the bard said, “You must be mistaken, mother. I have no doom.”

Ridged nails sank into the bard’s palm as the fortune teller squeezed.

“Just because you are deathless does not make you fateless, girl.”

A presence too much like the ones she’d left in the king’s tent coursed like deep roots through the old woman’s words. They tapped unseen waters and sprouted a gravity beyond the woman’s ken. Her glare cut across realms, and the bard’s hair stood on end.

“You are become an ache that preys on the heart. A yearning made flesh. And your doom will tear you from the world if you continue this way in the Garden of Forking Paths. Heed my warning.”

A shadow cut across the sun, and the bard looked up, expecting a thunderhead. That sort of fortune ought to be followed by forked lightning and rolling thunder. But as the light returned and the shape passed through the sun’s glare, it roared, and the bard cursed, ripping away from the fortune teller even as the old woman released her grip.

“Fucking hells!”

She tore through the camp, running before she thought to move, knocking guards and bemused nobles out of her way as they stared up at the great, winged beast above. A dragon. A dragon had come to the king’s hunt.

And the bard knew just which idiot dragon it was, too.

She recognized his scaled bulk. His petulant, flaming rumble.

The absolute twat.

What did he think he was doing?

Time rushed against her, precious seconds slipping beneath the soles of her boots as she found her horse, fumbled on the bridle, and swung onto her back. By that time, knights and hunters had stirred themselves. The bard cantered between men-at-arms rushing to their mounts and young archers half-armed and eager.

She flew by the entrance to the king’s tent where the two Endless stood observing the chaos like it was so very far below them. Fair enough. But at the moment, the bard couldn’t care less. Kingdoms and fates be damned. Her patron was going to get himself killed. She barely felt their gazes wash over her, burning like molten gold, sharper than diamond stars. After a life of dragon’s fire and executioners’ blades, they did not make her tremble like a sensible mortal.

Out of the camp, into the woods, galloping along the path in the direction the dragon wheeled. A goodly field stood some distance away, and it was the nearest place her patron might land without risking his wings on the treetops. So she rode, aware the crash of arms and hooves behind her was growing.

She hadn’t stopped for a saddle. Her thighs clenched tight around her mare’s heaving ribs, every bit of energy and intent straining forward, trying to yank the distant break in the trees closer with sheer force of will. The woods pressed too dark and thick, and she couldn’t tell if the crush of noise in her head came from her heart or the dragon ahead.

The ride lasted half an age, but she cleared the tunnel of trees at last, and blinded by sun, she heard rather than saw the huntsfolk who’d gathered from where they kept the caged beasts and dogs. A dragon was much better quarry. As the glare faded, she wheeled her mare between the humans and the fiery beast. They stumbled, clutching weapons and glaring as she swung down, facing the thing they’d planned to capture.

Hands raised, seeking to draw his eye, she marched towards the dark gouges in the earth where her patron landed.

“Glistiven!”

He turned from the lancer he’d been snapping at, flaring his nostrils wide to smell as well as see her. The wind carried her scent across the field, and he lowered his head, creeping low to be on her level.

She hissed at the hunters as she passed, “He’ll burn you all if you scratch him. Your lives aren’t worth the coin the king will forget to pay you.”

A few, convinced, moved back into the trees. The rest at least backed away, cautious, ready to see if the beast would incinerate the bard before they pushed their luck.

Glistiven stood taller than an oak, and his wings could shade a whole village. He looked a fine prize with his glittering scales – and the gold trapped between them – but he’d not grown to such a size for his tame love of humanity.

He’d burned the bard to ash three times before his curiosity won over his bad temper.

A month of stories, songs, and negotiations convinced him that it may be easier to let the local villages sell him their sheep. It was easier than dealing with unwanted visits from every bounty hunter and monster slayer in the kingdom. Every year, she carried his order down from the mountain, and the farmers let the chosen sheep run wild into the dragon’s territory.

He ought to be in the mountain now.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, marching through the tall grass and struggling to look dignified. As if she didn’t have enough to worry over. Two Endless, a fool of a king, and families looking to her for protection she was wholly unqualified to promise. Just because she was old didn’t mean she was powerful. “You great, flaming… Why are you here?”

Though still many yards away, his great sigh sent ripples through her clothes. “You have not finished your story.”

Hells above and heavens below. The petulance in his voice. She noted the remaining huntsfolk shift even further away from the corner of her eye, disturbed by the voice like a landslide in a wildfire. Crackling, and rumbling, and doubtless inhuman. A voice they all felt rattle in their bones. It reminded them that though they be hunters, they might yet be hunted. Many of their kind fell to dragons’ appetites. This one may yet have them.

The bard dropped her hands, forcing her way through the swaying weeds. She’d give her patron a piece of her mind and sort out this mess. He ought to fly home, but if he didn’t, she could tell him where to hide, where to sleep away from the hunter’s hooks and the castle’s ballistas.

A sharp twang cut the words she went to speak from the air.

Pain struck. It pierced through and out, scattering thought and breaking breath. A strange weight sat in her flesh, and as her mouth fell open, desperate for air that would not come, her hands rose to find the wound, the hurt, and the thing that made it. An arrow tip sliced her fingers. A bolt from some great weapon meant to take down boar and the scaled wyverns that sometimes came this far north.

It had taken her heart out of her body. She could feel it with her bleeding fingertips, fluttering around the wooden shaft, half-pinned by broken ribs.

She fell. To her knees. To the grass. To the waiting arms of Death. Her blood pooled ruby over her hands, her body shuddering and jolting with the determination of a broken clock still trying to tick.

The ground shook with Glistiven’s rage, and the heat of his fire curled over her like a blanket as the last heat of waning life bubbled onto the grass.

Here you are again.

A gentle touch settled over the crown of her head. Cold, but soft. A familiar companion she hated to bother. The bard relaxed into the entity’s hold as she lost all sense and feeling, swaddled in the dark.

What have you gone and done to yourself this time?

Top-Tier Villain Motivations

They will be safe. It doesn't matter who else or what else burns as long as They will be safe.

I will be safe. The hunger and the cold will never touch me again.

Fuck any bitch who's prettier(/cooler/better-liked/better at making dumplings) than me.

Yes, Master

Love me. Love me. Love me. Love me. LOVE ME!

I know the terrible things these so-called "heroes" will do if I don't stop them (<- is absolutely wrong)

I don't want a better future, I want a better past!

No other way to get performance art funded these days

Helping Writers Become Authors

Are You a Writer or a Storyteller?

Understanding whether you are more naturally a writer or a storyteller can help you optimize your strengths and holistically address your we

K.M. Weiland is one of my favorite authors on writing. She has an entire series and website devoted to "helping writers become authors."

Sound on if you guys wanna know what a little King Vulture sounds like 👀

𓅨 Sweet Nightmares: Chapter One

Sweet Nightmares: When not even Nightmare Dream can chase you off from visiting his realm whenever you wished, he decides to show his eldritch side. In other words: Dream doesn’t understand why you have such free rein within his realm and tries to scare you off. Jokes on him, you’re into it.

Warnings: Dream in Denial, Explicit Language, Reader Messes W/ Dream, I DON’T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS.

To Note: Eldritch!Dream x AFAB!Reader, Mostly Dream at his Wit’s End with Reader, Part of the ’Sweet Nightmares’ Event by @roguelov.

Word Count: ~7.2k

Masterlist | Next

You often wondered what it would be like to swim in the Ocean of Dreams. It often looked dark and uninviting, surely a representation of its true purpose… but that water also looked so beautiful to you. Things in The Dreaming weren’t what they seemed. Sometimes cold was hot, or sweet was spicy, an apple might taste like a peach, even a sunflower you had been happily looking at had turned into a rose. At times you thought the realm was purposefully fucking with you. No. It was fucking with you. So you liked to fuck with it back.

You were fairly sure that the realm adored it when you interacted with its jokes and mischievous nature.

“If you try swimming in the Ocean of Dreams, it’s just gonna spit you back out.” Imber, the dream of rain, spoke from where she sat next to you, basking in the low pressure of the air. It was going to rain soon. You gave her a pointed look, fingers picking at the edge of your shirt.

“You’re being negative, Im,” You stated, making up your mind and pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it to the towel you had been sitting on. Next you wiggled yourself out of the jeans the Dreaming gave you when you had appeared this night. “And I’m curious… like, what is it like?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “Is it like swimming in a regular ocean? Is it salty? Cold? It kind of looks like it’d be freezing… Does it have the same buoyancy as the oceans in the Waking World? Can I drink from it? Are there fish? Like dream fish? That’d be really awesome if there were dream fish…”

“Please, for the love of the Endless realms, do not drink those waters,” Imber exclaimed, wondering what kind of unhinged mortal would wish to swim in those waters let alone drink the Ocean of Dreams! Apparently you. The dream watched as you deposited the rest of your clothes on your towel and trotted over to the dock extending over the darkened water of the Ocean of Dreams. Your toes gripped the edge of the dock, your eyes staring down into the black water. You saw your reflection, nothing else. The water was dark, black even. So mysterious. You wanted to know what lay beneath. Your reflection tilted its head to the side and smiled at you, then it held its hand out, beckoning for you to jump. “Really, you shouldn’t—”

You stepped off the dock.

Dropping into the water, you were surprised to find that it wasn’t cold at all, or in anyway unpleasant. The water felt like it was pillowing your body, gentle and caring. You kicked your way back to the surface and your head popped out of the water. The look on Imber’s face was priceless. It was like the realm had dropped out beneath her and the universe was ending. Then she was exploding on you.

“What do you think you are doing!?” She screeched, waving her hands and desperately wanting to drag you out, but knowing that she could not enter the water. “The Ocean of Dreams is dangerous!” You blinked at her from where you were treading water, not understanding why she was so upset. Literally nothing was happening to you. “Those waters kill!”

“You are being over dramatic,” You replied pleasantly, wishing you had tried this sooner. It really was quite nice. While Imber went off on a tangent about your apparent need to get out of the ocean, you felt something sliding around your ankle. Ignoring what was going on beneath the waves, you gave Imber a frank look. “Really, Im, I’m fi—” You were sharply pulled beneath the surface of the water by your ankle, only having a moment to take in a gasp of air.

Bubbles streamed around your body as you were tugged down for a few disorienting moments, your hands flailing as you righted yourself. Eyes opening, you found that the water didn’t sting. Nice. You looked around for what had pulled you down, and came face to face with a black form that looked remarkably like yourself. Whoa. The mirror of you smiled deviously, and offered her hand. Now, there was no way this truly was your own reflection/shadow, you knew enough about the Dreaming to know they didn’t exist… but what she was, was most likely the Ocean of Dreams herself. Because it was definitely a she. That excited you, so you reached out and took her hand.

You were pulled along and only moments later you were met with an explosion of colors and wonders that left you shocked. The Ocean of Dreams was truly beautiful. As you went, you could see flashes of dreams, some fairytales, other nightmares. All of which were pure unadulterated beautiful creations. Why was the Ocean of Dreams so forbidden?? This was a paradise to you! The Ocean of Dreams glanced back at you and you beamed at her, her echoing grin was but a mere flash before she was dragging you through a field of kelp at a faster pace.

There were these little flashes of light in front of you now, bursting like tiny canons explosions. You were ignorant to the slow build of uncomfortable pressure within your chest, your lungs straining for fresh oxygen. Deeper and deeper you were pulled, each new sight even more beautiful than the last. A medieval dream full of knights, a princess, and a dragon. Another a zombie apocalypse where the zombies were running from the humans. A child winning a Nobel peace prize for curing cancer…

Your grasp upon the Ocean of Dreams slipped, but the being continued to hold you, eager to show you everything. Your mind slipped into a state of in-between and you felt even more weightless than you had before. Soft songs echoed around you, slowly fading in a hush… unlike the peacefulness you had felt slipping under, coming back was rough and jarring.

Water surged up your throat and out of your mouth as you harshly coughed, suddenly finding your body nestled on the sand with a very worried Imber clutching your shivering and jerking body. Worse? Morpheus was on one knee next to you, his eyes blazing mercury while he glared at you in complete and utter rage. You finished heaving up saline water, curtesy of the dream lord’s touch on your neck coaxing the dream liquid from your body. You rasped and coughed, leaning back on your shins with a grimace.

“Have you no self preservation!?” The dream lord thundered at you, physical thunder and lightning manifesting over the Ocean of Dreams. She was upset that your and her fun was interrupted. You blinked at Morpheus as he raged at you, his words cross, irate, warning. Nothing new to you. He never liked that you pushed the boundaries of his realm and rules. Well he never seemed to like you period. “I have half the mind to banish you for such insolence.”

“I think she’s lonely,” You protested smartly. “You should interact with her more.”

“You dare suggest to tell me how to run my realm?” Morpheus thundered yet again, lightning flashed and struck sand not that far from you. “You are out of line.”

“She deserves attention too you know,” You fired back as the dream lord rose to his feet and promptly stormed away, his coat fluttering behind him. Imber threw her arms around around your neck.

“Don’t ever do that again! You would have drowned if Lord Dream hadn’t rescued you!”  The dream sobbed. Blinking, you tilted your head to the side in confusion. Why had Morpheus pulled you out? Did he not find your antics most annoying within his realm? You figured that if something ever happened to you, he’d just let you die to rid himself of you. He threatened you enough about banishment… While Imber continued to hug you, you stared at the disturbed waters of the Ocean of Dreams. She was already missing you.

The library was one of your favorite places to visit in the Dreaming. The endless amount of books kept you well entertained when your friends were busy with their work. On this day, you were playing hide and seek with Matthew. Shelves moved around you, shifting from letter to letter and genre… Matthew was currently hunting you down (without cheating) and his calls for you echoed throughout the endless library.

Holding back a snicker, you crawled across the top of the bookshelf you were currently perched on. Lucienne had been monitoring your hide and seek game, amused from watching the shelves cleverly hide you from Matthew’s sights. It was clear that the realm liked you, clear that no matter where you went within the Dreaming, the realm itself came alive as you interacted with it. So she was fine with you playing around in the library, as long as nothing happened to the books.

She was currently watching you army crawl across the tops of towering bookshelves, wondering how you had managed to get yourself there in the first place! No doubt the library had helped you up there… and now it was helping to hide you as well. Chuckling beneath her breath, Lucienne shifted her gaze to Matthew fluttering around, calling out to you with sassy remarks.

“Oh come on!” The raven exclaimed, gliding around a corner, only to come to an empty aisle. “Where are you hiding!? This has been going on for like, ten minutes!!”

“Oh come on, Matty!” You teased him, resting on your stomach for a moment while kicking your feet back. “It’s not like I’m playing tricks on you.” Matthew let out a disgruntled snort and dropped to the floor of the library.

“You totally are!” He complained, stamping his foot on the hardened wood beneath him. “How else would this game still be going on!? Isn’t it my turn to hide??”

“You still haven’t found me though,” You sang with a wide grin. Matthew stomped his little feet some more and flapped his wings, clearly at his wits end.

“Fine! Fine!” He exclaimed in a blustery tone. “You win this one! You win this one now just tell me—”

“What are you doing within the Library, Matthew?” Matthew hopped to attention and you leaned closer to the edge of the bookshelf to see that Morpheus had arrived. Who shit in his wheaties this morning?

“Oh, hi sir,” Matthew chittered nervously, shifting from one foot to the other. Morpheus’ intimidating gaze narrowed. “I was just— you know…”

“Matthew was tending to a dreamer, my lord,” Lucienne spoke up, stepping into the picture. “You tasked him with helping around the realm when away from your side, he is doing as such.”

“And where is this dreamer?” Morpheus pressed, turning back to Matthew.

“Oh, you see, sir, we were playing a game of hide and seek so I don’t actually know…” Matthew trailed off the moment blue started glowing silver. Well, he didn’t know where you were, and his boss was clearly going to go nuclear at any moment.

“I’m up here,” Your voice was soft as it floated down to the three beings, and three sets of eyes lifted to stare at you peeking over the edge of the bookshelf you were currently atop. You could have sworn that Morpheus’ eye twitched. Matthew’s beak dropped open as he let out a screech in outrage.

“You were up there the whole time!?” He loudly exclaimed, flapping his wings and taking to the air to flutter up to where you were sprawled out. You grinned at the raven as he landed beside you.

“Yeah, pretty much,” You confirmed, pushing yourself up onto your forearms. Matthew wanted to be mad at you for doing such a thing, but at the same time, he was hella impressed.

“Okay you got me good on that,” He admitted while a storm began brewing below you. Morpheus was not pleased, not pleased at all. How had you gotten up there? And to play such a silly and menial childs games within the grand library of the Dreaming!? Your audacity appeared to have no bounds!

“What are you doing perched atop these sacred shelves?” Morpheus questioned severely, glaring up at your lounging body. You blinked at him, had he not been listening to what Matthew had just said?

“Playing a game of hide and seek, it was Matty’s turn to seek.”

“Yeah, we were just having some harmless fun,” Matthew piped up, hoping his boss wouldn’t go all nightmare on you. He really liked you and didn’t want you to be scared off let alone banished. Outside the palace thunder boomed, shaking the foundation. Your gaze didn’t stray from Morpheus’ bright silver one as you stared him down.

“Harmless… fun,” The dream lord was almost growling now, you nodded before patting the bookshelf beneath you.

“Oh yeah, hide and seek in this library? It’s like the masters edition. Top notch entertainment.” You happily explained, shifting into a sitting position. “Again might I suggest interacting—”

“Enough!” Morpheus cut you off. “Get down from the bookshelf immediately.”

“Spoil all the fun why don’t you, grumpy pants,” You mumbled, moving to climb down from your perch. But as you were doing as he had asked, the library decided to have a little fun of its own. With a shiver and tremble of wood, you lost your grip and tumbled from the bookshelf. A small yelp left your lips while Lucienne gasped and rushed forwards. She of course wouldn’t be able to help you, or catch you in time to prevent a very painful fall… but Morpheus was right there to catch your dropping body.

He easily caught you, surprising himself because did you not irk him to no end so why would he catch you? You and Morpheus spent a moment staring at each other, surprise plastered on both of your faces. What the hell had just happened? Heat creeped up your neck and you were instantly a flustered mess.

“Dream over, bye,” Just as suddenly as you had dropped into his arms, you were gone, leaving behind a dumbstruck Morpheus. He was frozen where he stood, arms out like he was still holding your body. He had a solid blue screen behind his silver eyes. Lucienne rushed up to her lord in a frazzled state.

“Sir? Sir?” She questioned, trying to get a response from the frozen dream lord. He was slowly rebooting. Matthew fluttered down to a nearby table and cocked his head to the side.

“Do ya think Y/N broke him? I’ve never seen them go all peace out on us before…” Matthew commented as Morpheus’ mind finished rebooting. Rage blistered across Morpheus’ features.

“They dare to undermine the rules of my realm and relieve themself from their own dream!?” Morpheus hissed out, finally coming to his senses on what had just happened. You had fallen from the top of the book shelf, he had caught you, and then you had woken yourself up! That was not an ability any regular dreamer should have and you were clearly displaying an unusual source of power.

“Sir, I believe that they are simply trying to enjoy the realm to the fullest—” The glow within Morpheus’ eyes had Lucienne cutting her words off and she watched as he angrily stormed away. Matthew exchanged looks with the librarian.

“So… am I just over thinking it or are they…”

“It would be in your best interest to stay out of their business, Matthew,” Lucienne adjusted her glasses and busied herself. This was not something she was going to stick her nose in unless absolutely necessary.

“If I get trapped in that stupid hour glass you better break me out,” You muttered to Concinō. Your dream friend twitched the corner of his mouth, making the whiskers of his current form, move ever so slightly. He was totally taking pleasure in this, you just knew it. At the start of your night, you’d come across Concinō, the dream of singing harmoniously… and somehow, he had talked you into assisting him with a dream of his. Little did you know that you would end up playing a Disney princess.

Exciting and fun, but you were acutely aware of what happened in Aladdin, and weren’t exactly fond of the idea that Jafar would be setting his sights on you. Memories of being scared as the hourglass full of sand slowly buried Jasmine alive still haunted you, even into adulthood. Not even the fine cloth draped upon your body and jewels enhancing your natural beauty could distract you from that worry.

“You think I will allow any harm to befall you?”

“We are in a dream, Concinō,” You muttered at him beneath your breath. “The psychological mind fuckery I deal with on a nightly basis is getting a bit too much.”

“Which is why I thought to invite you, this is a little girl’s dream, it is not meant to be a nightmare.” You gave Concinō a blank stare for a moment before your ‘father’ came bustling in… in all his short and round gloriousness. It was a nearly comical sight to you and that made you giggle a little and smile. You set down the hairbrush you had been absentmindedly running through Jasmine’s long hair and twisted in your seat.

“Father,” You greeted happily, following along with the script. “I had the most wonderful time,” The little girl watching the dream play out in the corner of Jasmine’s large bedroom giggled and pressed her hands against her little mouth. “I’m so happy!”

“You should be, Jasmine,” Jasmine’s father replied, his eyes glowing an eery red. Jafar had already gotten to him. “I have chosen a husband for you.” The remaining door to your room boomed open and the long faced Jafar appeared, striding towards you with a regal yet smug bird perched on his shoulder.

“You’re speechless, I see. A fine quality in a wife.” Jafar said, taking your hand. You were momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of this dude, but them remembered you had a part to play and jerked back.

“I will never marry you,” You retorted as the little girl pipped up.

“Yeah! She’s never gonna marry a creep like you. You’re mean!” You nearly laughed at her comment but stayed in character. From behind you, Concinō let out a rumble from his chest in warning.

“Father I choose Prince Ali.”

“Prince Ali left,” Jafar retorted smugly.

“Better check your crystal ball again, Jafar,” A voice spoke from behind you. You whirled around in a swirl of blue skirts and proceeded to gawk at the dream that had formed Prince Ali. You wouldn’t mind being swept off your feet by him. The bird on Jafar’s shoulder squawked angrily as Prince Ali stomped up to you, eyes ablaze.

“Tell them the truth, Jafar. You tried to have me killed.” You let out a dramatic gasp, which the little girl did as well. Honestly her reactions were making this whole experience worth the trouble…

“What?” Jafar exclaimed. “Ridiculous nonsense, Your Highness. He’s obviously lying.” 

“Obviously… lying…” Jasmine’s father mumbled, hypnotized by the snake scepter. You stepped in front of him and tried to shake the hypnotism from this mind.

“Father, what is wrong with you!?” Aladdin jumped forwards and snatched the snake scepter.

“I know what’s wrong!” He shouted before smashing the head of the snake on the floor. It broke and Jasmine’s father gasped.

“Oh, my!”

“Your Highness, Jafar’s been controlling you with this.” Aladdin continued, holding out the scepter.

“What?” He stammered. “Jafar? You, you traitor!”

“Get him! Lock him up!” The little girl cheered on. So the guards were called and were slowly dragging him off, but just as soon as Jafar has waltzed into the room, he disappeared in a cloud of red smoke.

“Oh no,” You murmured to yourself as Aladdin stepped up to you and Jasmine’s father began rambling. You let him wrap his arms around your body, and stared into his eyes before muttering at him. “I’m not kissing you.”

A sparkle appeared and his smile widened.

“I’m pretty sure Concinō would bite my head off if I tried,” The dream replied. “Besides, I’m just a side character in this dream.”

That made you chuckle as the dream in question eyed you both scrupulously. Concinō was in charge of this dream, in charge of making the little girl’s dreaming thoughts reality for this night. You had little control over what was going to happen next. Jasmine’s father dragged Aladdin off, talking excitedly about marriage plans and you went to slump down on a sofa with an exasperated sigh.

When it came time for Jafar’s takeover, you hadn’t considered how terrifying it might be to actually experience what Jasmine went through. You didn’t appreciate the crimson outfit you had been forced into, and you certainly didn’t appreciate being in chains at Jafar’s side. You had already thrown wine at the idiot sorcerer, told him off (much to the little girls egging on, she found it very entertaining), and even stomped on his foot.

He wasn’t happy with you.

You had done your best to distract the sorcerer after he had wished for you to fall in love with him. Because hello, one of the big no no’s of Genie magic was no love spells. Jafar didn’t know that yet thankfully, so you were holding his attention while Aladdin snuck in and slowly made his way over to the magic lamp.

“What street rat?” You cooed, delicately brushing your fingers along Jafar’s face. You were never doing this again. But your distraction was doomed to fail and Jafar caught sight of Aladdin in the reflection of the tiara you wore and promptly jerked around to address him. You lurched in front of him and tried to grab the scepter. Fighting against him was a loosing battle and you were flung backwards onto your rump which made you moan.

“Get the lamp!” Aladdin called from where he had taken your place in struggling for the scepter. You scrambled on your hands and knees, lurching up and scurrying over to the throne where the lamp was resting.

“Ah, ah, ah, Princess!” Jafar called, flinging Aladdin to the side. “Your time is up!” He flicked his scepter at you and you felt your body getting thrown back. You had to close your eyes so you didn’t get sick, but the topsy turvy feeling finally dissipated. Opening your eyes, you stared at a wall of glass before panicking and slapping your hands against the glass of the giant hourglass you were stuck in. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had hoped the little girl would deviate from the whole ‘Jasmine almost dies in the hour glass suffocated from sand’ plot. Apparently the little dreamer was a purist.

Sand poured on your head from overhead and you jerked in place, trying to avoid the stream. You slammed your fists harder against the glass, hoping you could break it, you had been able to manipulate some dreams before. But you had no such luck, the glass remained strong and the sand was quickly up to your waist. While Aladdin was tricking afar into wishing to be a Genie, you raked your nails across the glass and desperately searched for the now pint sized Concinō. He was gone, dismissed by a very irate Morpheus who had sensed your meddling yet again.

The dream darkened around you and the disney palace warped. Clawing the sand in front of you, you barely saw Jafar’s figure standing in front of the glass. He looked different now, taller, darker, more menacing. A few gasps for air departed your lips as you stared the irate Morpheus in the eyes. Then sand completely covered you. You panicked against the coarse material, feeling it scrape against your skin and impede your ability to breathe.

The glass holding you trapped disappeared within the hourglass. You fell, sprawling in front of a livid Nightmare Morpheus in a tumble of red fabric and sand. Coughing for a few moments because it seemed like you had breathed in several particles of sand, you slowly lifted your head.

You caught glowing mercury eyes, first glaring at you for being in the dream in the first. The complete and utter audacity! You were so meddlesome! But then Morpheus took in what you were wearing and his mind went blank. Crimson fabric covered your curves, and jewels dotted your throat and head, you looked every bit of the part you had been playing. Beautiful princess trapped in an hourglass filling with sand. It was an… enviable sight and that disturbed the Endless, certainly even more when sand slipped from your shoulders as you shifted in place. It had the luxury of caressing your beauty, beauty he had been unconsciously admiring. Now he wanted you… a… deplorable thought… surely… he would never… absolutely not… you were a pest… a pest he disliked… greatly… he didn’t like you… not one bit…

“Jafar?” A squeaky voice questioned, you glanced to your right to see the little girl confused. Understandable, this was supposed to be a dream, but now it was a nightmare. “You’re supposed to be defeated and stuck in a lamp.” Morpheus didn’t even spare her a glance.

“This dream… is over,” He spoke through gritted teeth. Sand once again spun around you, withdrawing you from the Dreaming and causing you to jerk awake in bed. You breathed heavily, your heart racing. Did he just try and scare you off with a nightmare?

“Dick move, Morpheus, dick move, it was her dream not yours,” You muttered, rolling onto your side. “It’s gonna take more than a nightmare to chase me off.” You closed your eyes and tried to get back to sleep. The only thing Morpheus managed to do was rescue you from a situation that had scared you. Being trapped in that hourglass was scarier than Nightmare Morpheus.

You were lounging with a book in your lap on what should have been a very uncomfortable place to sit… but the Dreaming of course would not have you sitting on something so uncomfortable and had softened the seat of Morpheus’ throne for you. That made his throne a very nice place to sit and read… which you were doing happily until Matthew’s call rang throughout the large throne room. You purposefully kept your eyes trained on the book in your hands, nonchalantly reading your passage.

The moment Morpheus set his eyes upon his throne, and saw you sitting there, he stopped short and took a moment to think. Surely you wouldn’t be this insolent! But there you were, looking quite comfortable and entirely at home. And quite gorgeous— He cleared that daring through from his mind and strode forward, a sour expression on his face.

“Your insolence appears to have no bounds,” He growled at you, rage quickly surfacing once more. You’d been pressing on his nerves, moving onto the next without fail and building his frustration. “Remove yourself at once.”

You eyed him, knowing that this was most likely really irritating him… which was your plan in the first place. Not one dream nor nightmare thought you’d actually sit on Morpheus’ throne. So you had strolled on up to the chair and planted your bottom on it. Now you were watching Morpheus’ patience run thin, worn down by your constant antics within his realm. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that you liked it when he showed the Nightmare side of him. The endless was getting very frustrated that he couldn’t scare you off.

You chose not to push him and just smiled pleasantly and winked yourself out of the Dreaming. The Dreaming refused to change Morpheus’ throne back to its original state for three weeks.

You hadn’t told anyone what your plan was, you just executed it. Morpheus was supposed to be gone from the realm for several days and nights, which gave you the perfect window to pull off your next prank. You’d spent the better part of this visit moving every piece of furniture you could find… an inch over from where it usual was. It wouldn’t be obvious and to most eyes, everything would look normal. But not Morpheus. He was highly sensitive to his realm, could detect every minute change down to a single weed. But he wasn’t in the realm to feel the changes you made directly, so you could get away with the movements without him knowing.

When he returned, everything would look the same, but feel the same? No. And you relished watching him squirm on the inside trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his realm. He was so unflappable at times, stoic and unchanging. Kind of like a marble statue… no, you were sure that a marble statue would show more emotions than Morpheus. Ignoring his angry, glowy eyes he gave you when pissed off. You wondered what he would look like it he smiled for once (something that you knew would never happen), you also wondered what his cosmic form looked like. Lucienne had once told you that while he did have an anthropomorphic form, it was only one form he had.

He was already a stunningly beautiful creature as a mortal, you wondered what his non-human form looked like. Would he even look remotely humanlike? Or would he be all wonky and chaotic, a blob of cosmic energy with no real distinguishable form to be seen.

“Hmm, squishy,” You commented to yourself as you struggled to move his throne exactly an inch to the left. “I wonder what he’d feel like to sleep on if he was like that?”

“What’re you doing?” You jumped in place before relaxing and looking at Matthew.

“Hi Matty,” you greeted before tilting your head. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were with Morpheus?”

“He sent me to check on you because he thinks you’re gonna mess with something while he’s gone.” You bit your lip to stop a bout of laughter that wanted to come up and Matthew hopped forwards, examining you a little closer. “You aren’t… messing with anything right?”

“Course not, absolutely wouldn’t while he’s out, why would he think of such a thing?” You blurted out. Matthew instantly knew you were up to something, and looked closer.

“Okay… why are you touching his throne? He got real mad about that after your last prank. Could’ve sworn the throne actually sulked for a few weeks…” Matthew muttered to himself, immediately deciding that he wanted no part in whatever shenanigan you were up to this time. His boss was getting really wound up by you and ready to implode. Matthew would rather watch this event from the sidelines than be in the midst of it.

“Just looking at the carvings,” You answered, patting the cold marble beneath your fingers. “I’m also wondering what he was thinking of when he made it given the decorations… like how does he even figure that shit out in his head?  Or is it like, automatic? Snap fingers and bam a-la-throne?”

“I… have absolutely no idea,” Matthew replied, his own mind now wondering how Morpheus had designed everything. “I don’t know how any of this Endless magic shit works, ya know?”

“It’s pretty awesome though,” You said while standing up and wiping your hands on your jeans. It was moved just enough. Perfect. Now you just had to wait for Morpheus to get back. While Matthew flew back to give Morpheus a report that you weren’t messing with his realm, you whistled while making your way to the library to find something to read.

Morpheus had gotten so angry at your little stunt (that everyone in the dreaming thought was hilarious) that he had gone all Nightmare on you. Like blazing cosmos eyes, enormous figure, thunder and lightning. Even the palace had trembled. Lucienne had been frightened for you, thinking that perhaps you had finally pushed the Endless one prank too far… only Morpheus had just raged at you while you giggled deviously. Then you had just skittered your way out of the throne room leaving the rather irate Endless to fume. So Lucienne finally decided to intervene.

“Sir, if I may,” She spoke softly, still feeling the echoing rumbles of the realm trembling from Morpheus’ anger. Mercury eyes landed on his trusted librarian.

“What is it, Lucienne? Give me one good reason why I should not have them banished from this realm for all eternity.” The librarian shifted from one foot to the other.

“Sir, I do not believe that you truly dislike having them around.” Morpheus glared at her for the mere insinuation that he liked having you of all creatures around his realm. “You have given many threats of banishment, but have yet to follow through with your words…”

“And why do you believe that is?” Morpheus snapped out, his fingers digging into the armrests of his throne (which he had promptly returned to its rightful place an inch to the right).

“I believe, that perhaps, you have come to enjoy their visits?” Lucienne offered, steeling herself for the blow up that was surely to come. “And might I even add, that you might have come to…” She paused, searching for the correct words to say without getting herself sent to the darkness. “…care for them. Do you not contemplate their arrival within the realm every night before they do so?”

Morpheus was insulted that his library would suggest such a thing and his eyes certainly blazed silver.

“You dare suggest that I have formed feelings for such an insolent mortal!?” His voice came out in a hiss. “They are nothing but a nuisance to me and I wish for them to leave and never come back!”

Lucienne couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“But sir, if you truly wished for that, would you not have already done so?” The librarian bravely spoke. “In order to deal with such… feelings, accordingly, you should decide upon the decision to banish them or not.”

Morpheus hadn’t made a decision on what to do with you. No, he had decided to show you his final form. His true form. A form that would surely scare you off and he’d never had to deal with your incessant pranks, never have to see you walking his halls never, never have to be tempted by your smiles and laughter. You were impervious to many a thing, but he doubted you wouldn’t be scared of his ultimate cosmic form. He didn’t really have a physical body in the anthropomorphic sense, he was just a mass of Endless that was abstractly shaped like his mortal self. Surely you’d be terrified and the temptation that had driving him to the brink of insanity would finally be gone.

But his plan to scare you by showing a side of him that was rarely shown had to be put on hold when his sibling decided to pay a visit. Of all siblings, it had to be Desire. They were still on thin ice with their last trickery that had cost the Dreaming 106 years, what reason did they have to want to visit now? But nonetheless, he relented simply for the sake of keeping an eye on them. Morpheus relented to their wish to wander throughout his realm, but he had every dream and nightmare on alert and several ravens flying overhead should anything go amiss.

When he picked up that you had entered his realm, he had dismissed your presence. He would have to deal with you on the morrow, he was far too busy with his realm at the moment to consider dealing with you and your jokes. Luckily for him, you weren’t planning on pulling off any pranks on this visit. He didn’t, however, consider what would happen should you cross paths with his sibling. No, you were just wandering around the palace gardens smelling different flowers and appreciating the scents and varieties. You had already received a flower from a tulip plant that had kindly offered you the single flower. Everywhere you went, the Dreaming came alive.

“I didn’t expect a dreamer to be so close to the palace,” A smooth voice called, drawing you from your mindless thoughts. Turning your head, you stopped in your tracks when you saw one of the most beautiful beings you had ever seen. Caught between masculine and feminine, they had pale hair and vibrant gold eyes… but you were distracted by the mischievous air that surrounded them. “My brother usually keeps the dreamers away from his more… intimate, of places.”

“Oh, so… I kind of just do what I want here,” You explained, wondering how many siblings Morpheus had. Then you leaned over and ran your fingers over a hydrangea bush. It stretched its leaves towards your touch. “He doesn’t stop me or anything, usually just gives me the glowy eyes, and huffs and puffs at my apparent audacity.”

Desire chuckled softly, amusement sparkling within their incredible golden eyes.

“Oh aren’t you an unusual one,” They mused, moving closer to where you stood. Gold examined every millimeter of your body, there was nothing special about you, clearly… but something made Dream latch onto you. “I can see why he would be intrigued.”

“Who says he’s intrigued?” You questioned, twisting your head to look at them with a raised eyebrow. “Do you know the number of times I’ve been threatened with banishment?”

“Like he would ever find it in his cold, cold, heart to banish a gem like you,” Desire cooed, not helping themself and reaching up to touch your face. They let their finger follow the curve of your jaw. “You’re far too precious.”

“I don’t know about that,” You disagreed, eyes wandering over their features. “Can I ask for your name? Morpheus doesn’t talk about his family, or talk to me at all if he has to…”

“I’m Desire,” Desire purred, eyes thinking with mischief and wonder. There were so many delicious things they could do with you. Ah. That would explain a lot.

“It’s nice to meet you Desire,” You replied happily. “I haven’t learned much about you or the other Endless…

“Hmm, it doesn’t surprise me,” Desire replied, taking a section of your hair between their impeccably manicured fingers. “Dream has always been very hush hush about us, it’s quite saddening actually…”

Something in you told you that it was, in fact, not saddening, to Desire and they were only looking to stir shit up. You were equipped in that category.

“Oh,” You sounded, you’re smiling fading despite your efforts to keep your face straight. You’d never been good at hiding your true emotions. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me, he’s kind of private isn’t he? I don’t blame him for that.” Golden eyes glimmered at you in scrutiny. You were an unusually impervious mortal, usually your kind would be falling at their feet by now in reverence. So they stepped closer and turned on the charm and desire, trying to wrap you up within their twisted influence. Surely you would make for a delicious game.

“Oh? But you are a guest within his realm,” Desire purred, dropping your hair to caress your cheek. While their teasing continued, Morpheus was made aware of his siblings proximity to you, his latest irking problem… and the very thin band of patience you’d been testing the constraints of for the last few months finally began to quiver. Disappearing from this throne room, Morpheus appeared in his garden and fixed his eyes on you and his sibling. Surely they were filling you with more noxious ideas to plague the Dreaming.

“Desire, that is enough,” Morpheus growled, the feet beneath your feet shaking. “Your meddling has gone far enough, leave,” Desire pouted and Nightmare Dream came out, his patience snapping like a violin string. You took a step back, feeling the ground beneath your feet trembling and shaking. Wow, Morpheus was sure getting worked up. You wondered if Desire was going to push his buttons further, but the Endless just smirked and winked out of the Dreaming.

“I think that was a little rude of you,” You commented, only to have the angry Dream Lord round on you and his eyes to brighten in anger almost to the point where you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Rude!? Are you that desperate to irate me that must conspire with my sibling!??” Lightning cracked across the suddenly darkened sky. You blinked and scrunched your nose.

“What? No,” You replied in confusion. Since when had you purposefully annoyed him? All you wanted to do was have fun and explore the Dreaming, and have Morpheus interact with it more because clearly she was missing her lord. You never had any intention of purposefully irritating Morpheus. “I just wanted to—”

“My realm is not yours to do what you wish with mortal,” Morpheus hissed at you, his skin rippling with power. “And for you to conspire with Desire!?”

Your eyes flashed in anger and your hackles bristled.

“I was most certainly not—” Before you even finished your statement the air around you rippled and you felt like you were stuck in a hurricane. Well someone had certainly lost their temper, but you hadn’t seen him lose it like this. A few seconds later you felt yourself getting tossed and turned in place, the ground having long since disappeared from your feet. Flopping around, your arms cartwheeled until you managed to keep yourself stable and you worked the courage up to open your eyes. What the hell…?

In front of you was a swirling mass of cosmos, you could barely make out somewhat of a humanoid shape but it most certainly wasn’t a human. Your body dropped though the air and you flailed yet again before being caught but a shadowy hand.

“You are the bane of my existence with your incessant comings and goings, why do you not act like the rest of your kind!?” Oh. Holy shit. That was Morpheus?? You were rendered speechless, gawking at the inhumane mass of Endless energy. Even now, with Morpheus displaying his worst form, you were still not cowering in fear! “What must I do to rid myself of the irritation you cause me?”

“You are so beautiful,” You whispered, barely able to form any further thoughts as the beauty of the cosmic being in front of you filled your mind. The next few seconds stretched into what felt like years, your words curling and slipping around Morpheus’ monstrous being. You are so beautiful.

Your surroundings trembled and shook, and that topsy turvy feeling returned. Then you found yourself stretched out on a bed with a very bewildered and confused (not to mention worked up) Endless above you. Your eyelashes fluttered as Morpheus grasped your chin in a hard grip. You could feel the pent up energy he was barely holding back.

“You are the most vexing, troubling, meddlesome mortal I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” Morpheus hissed in your face, his nose practically touching yours. Well excuse me! You didn’t exactly ask to meet him either! Your eyes flared with fire and you barked back, poking your finger into his chest.

“Well you are the most hard headed, egotistical, close minded—” Morpheus had-had enough of your lip and insolence, and silenced you the only way his tumultuous mind could think of: by kissing you.

Date Published: 8/11/23

Last Edit: 8/11/23

Masterlist | Next

Promises Three: Subtle Dreaming

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

Master List

Dream of the Endless had been promised a bride.

Chapter track: Rainbow - The Temple of the King - Algal the Bard

It has been... a rough couple weeks. But I'm back! Hope you enjoy! Your comments and questions mean the world! Special thanks to all you lovely rebloggers! I'm still trying to figure out how to respond without essentially reposting half a dozen times, but I see you, you make my week!

Subtle Dreaming

A knock on the door disturbed her work. It was an hour past midnight, when all but the youngest servants and ardent lovers had retired to their beds with heads full of dreams, a time a wandering mice and cat’s work.

But she wasn’t surprised, even less when she opened the door of her windowless chamber to find a young lady in her nightdress, wrapped in a shawl with wary hope in her eyes and a candle in her hand. Alis Everard. The youngest of a large family, and the only child still unmarried – and a child she was, barely thirteen, and of all the reasons the bard hated the king of Meiren, summoning such young suitors for his Endless guest might be the greatest. Her face hadn’t quite lost childhood’s rounded cheeks, and the seams on her nightgown had recently been let out after a growth spurt.

“I see your father is impatient,” the bard said. Wrapped in her own shawl over her own nightgown, she felt more than ever the noble’s equal. After such a long life, she understood better than most how little rank protected one from life and how much a peasant’s child was like a queen’s. She was the girl’s elder by far, but she’d been young once, and what youth didn’t go sneaking down corridors in the dark during their first trip to court?

“He bid me seek your counsel. May I come in?”

Stepping back, she ushered the girl into her sparse little room. “Of course.”

Once the girl was through, she moved to close the door, but a slippered foot darted through the gap to block it. “Not so quicky!”

The foot neatly kicked the door back open as the bard released it, and a young woman – who was, at least, properly a woman – swept by in a dressing gown of satin and a riot of chestnut curls. “I enjoy midnight jaunts, but not being spied on one.”

The bard did her very best not to smile, but failed entirely. She knew this late guest as well. Eilwyn Alder. The third generation in her family the bard had befriended, and she sat next to little Alis on the bed with the casual grace of someone entitled to it.

“My grandmother sent me for your thoughts, though I’m sure she’ll collect them for herself tomorrow. But I am a dutiful granddaughter, so here I am.” She blinked doe eyes as the door finally fell shut, poised and perfect coquettish grace. “So, what news? Or will I lose my beauty sleep for nothing?”

Pulling out a stool from beneath her tiny desk, the bard said, “I haven’t spent an hour in his presence, and I’ve had a long ride, so forgive me if I haven’t yet taken the full measure of the king’s guest and his schemes.”

Alis wriggled on the bed, twisting her hands up in her shawl. Her eyes bounced between shadows, looking for threats like the Dream Lord’s nightmares might crawl out of the walls to exact vengeance for some imagined slight. Not that they couldn’t, but the bard assumed Lord Morpheus had better things to do with his time than torment one overwrought teenager who didn’t want to marry him.

“What if he eats his bride on the wedding night? Like the Lindworm?”

Eilwyn scoffed, and the bard donned a gentle smile, even if she couldn’t keep the laugher from her voice.

“He’s Endless, not a dragon.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means you’d be better off with a dragon.”

The child curled into the corner of the bed, sinking into the blankets with her shawl swallowing the lower half of her face. Looking for comfort where her companions’ mirth had failed. The bard reached over to pat her knee, taking the opportunity to change the subject. “Honestly dragons aren’t so bad. One of my patrons is a dragon, you know. I was attending my yearly visit to his lair when your great, worried, noble parents called for me.”

A whisper of a promised story lured Alis’s eyes away from visions of doom. She glanced at Eilwyn, like she’d confirm the tale. The older girl gladly took up the role of expert.

“Everyone knows that,” she sniffed.

“Is it…” Alis mulled over the idea, confusing herself with her own bevy of questions. “Is it a… nice dragon?”

“These days he is. But he wasn’t always.”

The hook snared Alis’s attention, and her posture softened, though she didn’t leave the corner of the little bed. In fact, she made herself more comfortable, settling like a kitten, and a stab of rage that anyone thought this little girl ought to be considered as a wife seared through the gathering strands of the bard’s story.

She took a blanket and settled it over the child as she began to speak, shielding her from a king’s machinations, a world too big for little hands, and prying eyes.

.O.O.O.

Dream of the Endless retired to the chambers the King set aside for his use, though he had little use for them at all. He would not sleep. He had no intention of entertaining in the parlor, or writing missives at the richly appointed desk. There was no book on the shelves he did not already possess, and he left the food prepared for him to grow cold and stale on the table.

He did sip the wine, and in the darkest hours he found his amusement in wandered the sleeping minds of the castle. Boredom drove him. Cruelty, even. Vengeance called for the king to atone for his wounded pride, and the decade since the human’s error only gave Dream time to image new and wondrous torments. He wanted to watch the king’s schemes crumble in the dread nightmares prowling the would-be suitors’ dreams. He enjoyed the seeds of hate planted in parents’ hearts, the doubt in subjects who’d been nothing but loyal until this gathering.

The king’s story would be a horror, a kind of tragedy that left wounds in his lands and subjects the turn of generations would not heal. These seven days would be the fuse, a prologue to terror and loss. A lesson none would soon forget, lest they bring such punishment on their own loves.

He drifted, savoring the fears he would shape to his own ends. Until words snared his attention. A half-heard tale of a dragon spinning through recent memories of a soft touch and a smile in the face of inescapable dread.

He found a young mind loosely tethered to the Dreaming, caught in the tides running between the conscious and subconscious, where words and images of the Waking cast strange reflections in the fading thoughts before sleep. She led him to a plain, simple room deep in the castle. A place for high-ranking members of staff, perhaps. Utilitarian and uninspiring. Not a place this noble child belonged. But she was not alone, and as she dozed, Dream borrowed her senses.

Voices. One he recognized. The bard the king so detested. He knew her as he knew all dreamers, and he sensed his sister’s touch upon her.

She spoke of him.

“He’s the Prince of Stories. A bride market is beneath him. This is how political unions for picky lords looking for pretty faces are arranged, not how one of the most powerful creatures to ever live seeks a partner,” the bard said.

She was not wrong, of course. The story weaver spied the loose strings in the tale, the ragged ends that did not match, though she had yet to understand the pattern he wove.

“Whatever he wants, it isn’t love or a warm body in his bed. There’s something else. I just have to figure out if that something is a danger to any of you.”

So, loyalty did grow in the king’s court. Just not to the monarch. Dream felt the peace the bard’s presence brought the dreamer half-snared in her sleep. A quiet, sure thing. The confidence children had in oak trees their parents and grandparents climbed when they were young.

The other voice in the room did not speak as a child. This one was old enough for caution, and it worried for the old oak as well as those who sheltered beneath.

“To us, I should think.”

Did the bard not fear him? Had she stood outside as the storyteller for so long she’d forgotten she could be part of them as well?

“Whatever happens, dear, I’ll survive it.” Her only worry was for those she perceived as in her care. The children of children she’d watched grow. A touch carried through the dreamer’s skin and into their subconscious, a kind voice leading her back to the Waking. “It isn’t time to sleep yet. You must return to your room…”

The fragile link collapsed, and the bridge between the servants’ quarters and the noble guest room dissolved.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, sat in his darkened chambers in the court of a damned king, and thought as he sipped from his wine that he would enjoy seeing the bard at work. He must amuse himself for seven days, after all, until the time of the agreement ran out, and she was a surprising creature.

The most surprising he’d seen in some time.

Just a hint of a reveal.