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withoutyouimsaskia · 7 months

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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

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Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

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It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

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nxtaliaistyping · 5 days

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Thinking about Morpheus making you ride him as punishment :(

Author’s note: oh my god the season 2 behind the scenes look has me screaming, I’m so excited. I need him back in my life.

18+ nsfw, fem reader, slight bondage

Morpheus is nothing if not an attentive lover, always putting your pleasure first. While you’re in his realm, you don’t have to lift a finger, don’t have to want for anything. He provides.

And while he spends long stretches ravaging you, of taking you apart piece by piece via his long fingers stroking your clit until you squirm and cry for him, or fingering you while your gush around his lithe digits, there’s occasionally times where he finds you…challenging.

That mouth of yours has a tendency to run rampant, undermining his authority. He is a king, a god…more than a god; an endless. And to think a bratty little mortal like you has the audacity to be in his domain, his kingdom, and demand more of his time and energy? Well, you simply need a correction. A simple reminder of your place.

So that’s why you find yourself straddling him, thighs burning as you move up and down. He looks every bit the king of dreams as he sits on his impressive throne, how high you both are allowing you to survey the room while you ride your lover to the best of your capabilities. An unseen force is keeping your hands pinned to the small of your back, not even giving you the slight relief of bracing your weight on his thighs or shoulders.

No, instead you simply have to rut against him, feeling every bit like a concubine, pleasing your ruler.

“Are you getting tired my love? That cannot be the case I’m sure, since you were so eager to have me earlier. Quite…insistent, were you not?”

You whine pitifully at his words, the ache of your limbs at the repetitive motions setting in. Morpheus doesn’t have quite the same need to cum that you do, after all you both are in the dreaming, as much a part of him as he is of it. He can withhold his orgasm for as long as needed, which seems to be long enough that you’re soaking his lap with your needy juices.

“Making a mess I see, so wanton.” He chastises, but still makes no effort to help you move.

“Please…”

“Hm?” He tilts his head, a neutral expression plastered on his regal features. “Is there something you need, dearest?”

God you just want to scream, but your outburst would most likely not help your situation, so you give him a particularly strong slam of your hips before batting your eyelashes. “Please just fuck me.”

Instead of your desired response, he simply tuts. “You misunderstand the situation. This is…correctional. Your penance if you will. After all, you were the one being especially mouthy while in my realm. So it’s only right you prove to me you’re worth the attentions of a king.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how reminding you of his status above you makes you whine and clench your pussy around him. Your body is an instrument he is especially well versed in playing.

“Perhaps I have been too accommodating to your every whim and desire. I have created a spoilt thing it seems, so used to not putting in the work to achieve what she wants. This lesson is needed.”

Knowing no other way, you fight against your bodies’ exhaustion to ride him with vigour, rolling your hips. Pleasant hums occasionally pass his lips, the minuscule praise like a drug as you move faster on his lap.

You must get too carried away, as he gives your hip a light slap. “Now now, do not allow yourself to get carried away. Remember, it’s rhythm that is important in sexual situations such as this. Not just how fast you can move your hips on me.”

At his reprimanding, you nod your understanding and mutter a soft apology, building a rhythm that works. The sheer fact you’re riding him on his throne, in his throne room, really settles in. Anyone could walk in, heaven forbid Matthew flies in and gets the shock of his (after)life.

But you can’t deny how much it turns you on, to be dream of the endless’s favourite mortal, his favourite little pet to entertain him. It’s almost power in a strange sort of way, but it thrills you nonetheless.

Eventually, your lover’s hips start to move up in time with your thrusts, causing the breath to leave your lungs quickly. Your hands are released, and you quickly move them to his shoulders, feeling the material of his black cloak under your fingertips.

“Touch yourself. Feel the pleasure that I allow you to take.”

You don’t need to be told twice, fingers hurriedly rubbing circles on your clit as he fucks up into you with tenacity. “Please…can I cum?”

“You can do better.”

A moan rips its way from your lips before you can stop it. “Please…please my king, I need to cum. Please let me cum, I won’t talk back again, I’ll be so good…please.”

A trace of a smirk tugs on his lips, and he gives a simple nod of his head. Blue eyes trace over your trembling form as you finish all over his lap. A few thrusts later, he’s buried to the hilt inside of your weeping cunt, filling you up. He allows you to slump against him, gentle fingers moving up and down your spine to soothe you, his release warm inside of your spent pussy.

“Was that to your enjoyment?” He mumbles lowly into your ear, and you can’t help the girlish giggle you make as you nod against him. His smirk is now transformed into a soft smile, not allowing you to see this moment of vulnerability as he presses kisses to your hairline.

“Do not make such demands of me again, unless you want your next punishment to not involve climax for you at all.”

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madeleineengland · 2 years

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The Darkling (Shadow & Bone s2)

#the darkling #shadow and bone #ben barnes #alexander morozova #shadow and bone s2 #shadow and bone netflix #aleksander morozova #alina x darkling #darklina #benbarnesedit #darklingedit #thedarklingedit #alina x aleksander #shadow and bone season 2 #my edit #dark lord

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flameobitch · 10 months

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New works, the existence of which I forgot...

I spend the whole of November watching "Startrek: Voyager" and during this time (I watched 6 seasons) Kathryn Janeway managed to die more than five times!!! But in general, I started with a Closer and Major crimes because of Sharon Ryder, but she also died. Then it was decided to watch Voyager, because I finished Discovery in the spring. The Emperor seems to be still alive...

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darklinaforever · 3 months

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People who complain that we not have others fantasy shows like the first 4 seasons of GOT (even if they were generally good adaptations, in terms of adaptation of the magical aspect in the show itself was minimal, and I don't understand the problem with directors of fantasy productions who always try, if they can, to minimize the fantasy / magical aspect of the base work... Why adapt from fantasy if you have a problem with the magical elements ? It's ridiculous...) well actually the thing is that there are plenty of literary stories as good as GRRM's ASOIAF saga, even better !

Except that either the directors didn't get their hands on it, or they did and... adapted it any way they wanted.

The Witcher is a perfect example. The books make for an excellent fantasy saga, but its adaptation is absolutely slammed into the ground.

It's the same with rings of power. Tolkien's universe has tons of stories that could be adapted, but instead the directors went with fanfiction (and poorly done one at that).

And I don't understand why these people aren't able to properly adapt the nuggets they find.

Even at the youth level, we saw the disaster of the attempted adaptations of Eragon and The Wardstone Chronicles.

It's still crazy.

The problem once again is those who try to adapt fantasy works. They either don't seem to like them, or think they're doing better by the original author, or both. And it's frankly tiring.

House of the Dragon itself is a show that ends up being more of a Fire and Blood fanfiction than an adaptation. Borderline a parody at this point.

And I don't understand people who praise this show as an example of good adaptation or good fantasy.

I mean... you saw what Ryan Condal said as bullshit to explain that the Targaryens don't have purple eyes in HOTD beyond simple technical problems that he should have just stuck to instead of continuing to open your mouth ?

Once again, why adapt fantasy by people who don't like its elements ?

It's stupid.

In addition, it also has almost all the flaws of the rings of power, and of the seasons of GOT after the first 4.

The fact is that I drifted. But the main point being, there are plenty of excellent fantasy stories out there. The problem is that they haven't yet been discovered by people working in the field, or when they have them on hand, they adapt them haphazardly.

And sorry, but so far, I haven't seen any fantasy adaptations that could really be described as good (except the trilogy LOTR by Peter Jackson, His Dark Materials - not perfect but still pretty good -, and Arcane for now... of course)

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dotieeee · 2 years

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The Dream That Got Away

Masterlist

Premise:

Morpheus creates you, a Dream that inspires passion in humanity for their daily tasks and helps them discover what they want in life. He names you Mera, derived from the Greek word ‘meraki,’ meaning ‘to do something with passion, with absolute devotion, with undivided attention.’ Perhaps it’s you, his own creation, who inspires him, for he realizes his true want for companionship, and it’s you he decides to fulfill that need. So, what if, after his capture for more than a century, he finds you in love with a mortal and hears of your plans to run away from the Dreaming, from him, forever?

Status: COMPLETE, will revisit for edits

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

Multi-chapter fic

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43126099

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Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

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Chapter 1: The Firsts of Many

Chapter 2: Some Words Are Better Left Unsaid

Chapter 3: True Intentions

Chapter 4: Scarlet Sage

Chapter 5: Your King

Chapter 6: The Sleep Doctor

Chapter 7: Nightmarish Visits

Chapter 8: The Dream Plan

Chapter 9: Courtships with Deadlines

Chapter 10: This Dream is Over

Chapter 11: Your Nightmare, Tenfold

Chapter 12: The Princess in the Tall Tower

Chapter 13: Under the Starry Night Sky

Chapter 14: A Festivity and A Fight

Chapter 15: Your King’s Wish

Chapter 16: Vanilla Ice Cream and Cheese

Chapter 17: Lost and Found, and Lost Again

Chapter 18: A Confession...of Love?

Chapter 19: The Dream That Started It All

Chapter 20: The Abyss Gazes Back

Chatpter 21/Epilogue: A Sibling’s Offer

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spectraling · 1 year

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Started thinking about @lindirs-gaze fancasting bojan actors/characters as lotr characters in their tags occasionally and I am going to add

#dark netflix #1899 netflix #lord of the rings #lotr #claudia tiedemann #gandalf #lisa kreuzer #we could also do hg tannhaus/christian steyer as gandalf and her as saruman but #nah #she's got the gandalf vibe

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ariel-cohen-art · 8 months

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May I interest you in my religion?

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mythicalgeek · 7 months

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The Dark Crystal Age Of Resistance is a tragically underrated work of art.

If your a fan of fantasy like Lord of the rings, Harry Potter and Star Wars please give The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance a watch.

Its a prequel series to the 80s movie and it's one of the best fantasy shows in recent years and goes back to classic fairytales and mythical storytelling.

Everything is mostly done with practical effects and only uses CGI where it's really necessary. The show also brings back puppetry and even though none of the character's are humans there's more humanity in this show than most media we get today.

The world of thra is a magical and strange place that you find yourself immersed in, with all the creatures and beuaty of the natural world at full display you find yourself encanted by it.

The gelfings are really adorable and you can't help but care about them, the main three protagonists have well flushed out personalities and each one has a interesting journey they go on that lead them to start the resistance and the quest to save there world.

The Skekies are really creepy and make for some pretty great villains. There motivation and interactions are giving just as much time as the heros, they rule thra with cruelty and manipulation, stealing the live force of the planet and the then the gelfing. There some of the most terrifying villains we've gottan in the last few years and I gotta say, I was absolutely horrifying by them.

This show does a lot of things right and one of them is how it writes the female characters. Deet and Brea (the two female leads) are very feminine heroines who are kind, empathetic, intuitive, clever and strong without it being showed in our faeces. Even when the female characters are warriors or soldiers there femininity is not devalued or see as a weakness. We also have more complex characters like Seledon and the gelfing leaders (who are all female) and it's just so nice to have a fantasy show that handels the female reputation so beautifully.

At the same time the male character's are also written with the same amount of care and respect, for example Rian (the main male lead) is a soldier who after finding out the truth about the skekies, is faced with the hard challenge of spreading the truth while dealing with loss and trauma, we see plenty of moments where his aloud to be vulnerable and we see him grow into a strong leader for the resistance.

We also have Hup who even though he is a side character, is a lovable podling who steals every sence he's in. He dreams of becoming a hero and has such a heartwarming friendship with Deet it's hard not to love him and want more of him.

All the relationships between the gelfing feel so intimate and pure, wheater there familial, platonic or romantic the show gives us so many beautifully written relationship and dynamics, that add to the emotional core of the story.

There's also some political drama with the gelfling clans and the skekies as they try to hold on to there power, it's done in a way that both kid's and adults can follow.

The action is surprisingly good for show with only puppets, we have sowrd fights, flying gelfings dropping booms, wild carriage rides and it's really exciting and done well.

There is only 1 season unfortunately but it's still worth the watch, I do have to warn everyone that there is a lot of scary and truely horrifying moments so if your sensitive maybe give this a pass, but there's a balance between the dark and whimsical and there's so many funny and sweet moment's that allow you two catch your breath.

This series is a hidden gem in the world of fantasy and that's a dame shame because it is everything you could whant from a epic fantasy story that we just dont see a lot of anymore.

I like shows like The Witcher and Rings of power but none of those shows have captured my imagination or sense of wonder like the dark crystal aor did. I have so much love for this beautiful, weird, creepy, wonderful, magical puppet show and I wish it got more recognition for the work of art it truly is.

The Dark Crystal Age Of Resistance is pure magic and deserve so much more attention. It's on Netflix so check it out if your looking for some good fantasy.

#the dark crystal #the dark crystal age of resistance #Netflix #jim henson #star wars #lord of the rings #harry potter #jim henson company #fantasy

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mooncicadas · 3 months

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One of the saddest things about dark is that in the beginning I was waiting and holding off for the experimented kids to have somehow had a life/ story/ some advantage acquired after their horrible experience.

In episode 2 I was hoping the Stranger was Mads who had gotten a chance to grow up outside time and that the dead body was simply dressed up in his clothes.

But then very slowly you realize they were simply lambs for slaughter for the first few trials of the bunker time machine. Everyone knew the trials with these particular kids will NOT work but it still had to happen so that they could improve it enough that the trial with young Helge will so they ruthlessly make it happen...

And they're just dumped unceremoniously in the past and future where there's no one they knew to even find them and grieve

#dark netflix #dark spoilers #idk do ppl think this sadly abt fkn erik yasin and mads #lord i think all of them had zero lines in the whole fkn show tooocxgfyh #texties

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darklinsblog · 2 years

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Sweet Distraction | Chapter V

Summary: Given your argument with the Lord of Dreams, Jessamy and Lucienne decide to be conciliators in the discussion.

Pairing: Dark! Morpheus x Human! Reader

Chapter List

Author’s note: I truly had no intention of posting today but I was out for most part of the day and I was inspired so enjoy, lovelies!

Ever since Morpheus had called you a slut, things had been different. All the progress you seemed to have made before, vanished. You didn’t speak a word about it, wanting anything but to draw unnecessary attention. In many ways, you both shut down.

You went deathly silent because you didn’t wish to speak words you didn’t mean and aggravate the situation further. In your heart, you knew he didn’t mean what he had said, it was just his anger and frustration speaking, but that didn’t brought you any comfort whatsoever, because he still said it and it still hurt.

This made your sexual encounters tense as well, you wouldn’t speak a single word, not even dared to say his name, you just complied to whatever he wanted and hurried away of the room as soon as you were done.

Morpheus wished to stop you many times, but the embarrassment was too much to handle, so he found a refuge in his duties as king.

Jessamy, Morpheus’ loyal raven had found you once or twice, crying on the palace corridors, she felt sorry for you, truly. You seemed so kind and fragile, she regretted that you would have to silence your pain.

She started approaching you, sometimes she would stand in the book you were reading so you could pet her head, drawing your attention out of your darkest thoughts.

Lucienne too, wasn’t a fan of the situation. She had a great esteem for you, and you were so selfless and hardworking. But she knew the king well enough at this time she knew the Dream Lord was simply hiding, too proud to admit his own fault.

Behind your back, Lucienne and Jessamy came to an agreement to conciliate the situation, setting you up at the library so you could not escape one another.

“I’ll return shortly” Lucienne told you heading off, you hummed in response and just as she reached the door Jessamy appeared. Both of them shared a knowing glance before the librarian left, leaving the door slightly open.

Enough for someone to push it and come in. Jessamy took a deep breath before heading to you, at the sight of her you smiled.

“Hello Jessamy” you greeted her, nuzzling her bright red chest, the bird responded flapping her wings and undertaking her flight above your head, you giggled and stood up from your seat following the raven in her playful demeanor.

“What’s gotten into you, Jessamy?” You teased, too caught up in admiring her to notice the King of Dreams entering and crashing into you. When you looked up at him, your face fell and he seemed ashamed in response, Jessamy then placed herself in Morpheus’ shoulder and looked between the two of you, quietly wondering you would continue to act like fools.

The tension was suffocating you and you decided it was best if you left, Morpheus shared a look with Jessamy.

“You know you must apologize, my lord” Jessamy said, making Morpheus take a deep breath and grab your wrist before you could escape.

“I want to… apologize for what I said” the words struggled to come out, but at last they did, he could feel your eyes burning in him. It took all his willpower to actually look up at you.

“It was uncalled for me to take out my frustrations on you, and calling you as I did” he didn’t even want to pronounce the insult he had spoken, it was vicious and disturbing.

“I accept your apologies, my king” you spoke softly but truthfully, he could see in your eyes that you were forgiving him, even when he perhaps wasn’t worthy of such thing, but your forgiveness did lift a weight off his shoulders.

Soon, Jessamy and Morpheus resumed their duties and you occupied yourself with arranging Lucienne’s desk, exactly how she liked it.

You were humming on the low as Lucienne almost magically appeared.

“I see your mood has brighten, miss” she couldn’t conceal the smile that played in her lips, and you smiled as well, connecting the dots.

“You had something to do with this, didn’t you?” You teased her and she looked away

“I have no idea what you mean” she played dumb, but you both knew the truth, and you were quietly grateful for the intervention.

Early morning came along, and you finally heard a click on the door. Oddly enough, you couldn’t sleep, an anxious, foreign feeling invaded you, it was like some sort of gut feeling that something terrible was approaching, which made no sense, but you couldn’t shake away the preoccupation.

Morpheus sat beside you, seeing you were awake, you sat up straight in his presence.

“Is everything truly forgiven between us? If you still feel some form of resentment towards me, you may speak it” he said, it was important for him to know there were no grudges, because Morpheus didn’t mean to cause you any distress, the voice with which he spoke made your heart fluttered.

He appeared so much vulnerable in this light, and with everything going on in his head, you appreciated he took your feelings into consideration. Sure, he may not have the best forms of expression, he struggled, a lot.

But his heart was always in the right place, which was one of the things you loved most about the king. You reached out to him, cupping his cheek in your delicate hand, your touch sending shivers down his spine.

“Water under the bridge, my lord” you reassured him, he smiled weakly.

“I would be more comfortable if you called me by name, when we’re alone” he said, your eyes glistened. Him allowing you to call him by name during sex was one thing, but this was a different domain. He was allowing you to address him in a personal manner whenever you were alone, which for the Lord of Dreams was a huge step for him, and it felt good that he gave you that vow of confidence.

“Very well, Morpheus…” you said, almost savoring how his name rolled out your tongue, he personally adored it.

You stared at each other, almost frozen in time. Then his eyes fell on your lips, thinking of how badly he wanted to kiss you right now, when looking back up he could see you wanted the same.

Rather slowly, he closed approached you and you mimicked his actions, like two magnets drawn to each other, incapable of avoiding the coalition.

His soft lips crashed into yours and he took the initiative to draw you closer by the waist, his tongue entered your mouth and you created a slow rhythm as you kissed.

This didn’t feel like other times he kissed you, you didn’t felt the urge or blinding lust, this felt more cautious, innocent even. Like two young lovers sharing their very first kiss.

Perhaps you were crazy, caught up in the moment, but you could swear this kiss came from a place of love.

A knock on the door completely disrupted the atmosphere, you both jumped slightly, Morpheus licked his lips while you looked away, blushing madly.

The Endless cleared his throat before going to attended the door, from where you were standing you could see Lucienne at the door frame.

“I’m sorry my lord, but the Corinthian is causing disturbances in the Waking World”

It was beyond words to explain the suffocating anxiety that came over you as you heard Lucienne’s words, something didn’t sit right with you. This wasn’t the first time Morpheus’ nightmare was on the loose and he came back every time.

“I have to attend this…” he apologized, you smiled weakly and he kissed your cheek softly.

“I will return shortly”

“You promise?”

“I promise”

You were certain he was being sincere, but why did it feel like you wouldn’t see him in a long time?

Tag list: @boofy1998 @meganmayhem89 @sandmanraven @deniixlovezelda @maramunsonkay @theamuz @pinksirensong @majorcath

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withoutyouimsaskia · 6 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 5)

GIF: Originally posted by @simply---words

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Language. Kissing. Nudity. First time. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Hello there! How are you all doing? Thank you so much for sticking with me on this. I always hope I can get chapters out quickly and it always turns into 2+ weeks... Special thank you shout out to my IRL bestie @theviridianbunny for giving the chapter a once over ❤️Much love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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Morpheus' eyes glint like onyx stones under firelight as he waits for you to yield. His breathing is as laboured as it was when you initially laid eyes on him, and with each exhale you are exposed more and more to the intoxicating scent that rolls off his alabaster skin.

One hand is braceleted around your wrist, thumb swiping back and forth over the veins there that jump frantically, the other steadies the solid appendage that nudges temptingly against your opening.

"I can see that you want this," he intonates proudly. "Your physical reactions inform me of all that I need to know."

Your attention darts down to the markers that are broadcasting your arousal: first to the hardened peaks of your nipples, and further down to blushing labia framing your swollen clit. Morpheus follows the same path with predatory meticulousness.

"Oh, yes, those reactions are delightfully obvious. Most of all here."

He drags the tip of his erection in a teasing circle around your entrance and smiles sadistically when you stiffen and whimper in response. He brushes his nose against yours, the playfulness of the gesture juxtaposed entirely by his next sentence.

"Your sweet enticing cunt, gushing as it prepares itself for entry."

If you could close your legs to shield yourself from further embarrassment you would, for his dirty words only add to the wetness that he has observed between them. It's now running onto the silk sheets, mingling with the pre-cum that drips from his poised cock.

Morpheus continues to speak, "But I would know from even more subtle signs: the shade of the flush on your chest, the curl of your toes, the arch of your back." He dips his head, breath feathering over the shell of your ear as he whispers, "You want penetration."

He is right. Of course he is.

The desire to be filled is powerful - a base instinct that is relentlessly chiselling away at your resolve. You swear you can hear a voice in your head chanting with every proverbial swing of the hammer:

Do it. Do it. Do it.

A conflicted whine pushes past the clench of your teeth.

Morpheus has fallen silent, his tongue tracing a scintillating path directly over your jugular, an action that makes you automatically twist to offer more of your neck to him. He doesn't oblige, instead he moves his head lazily and stares you down once more.

How was he so good at playing with you like this?

The question spends little time unanswered; the Maiden's words from the tail-end of your conversation with the Fates bounces to the forefront of your brain. "He has been made to be perfect for you."

It's the whole soulmates thing.

Speaking of the soul, to make matters worse, the ache in your chest is returning with ire. It appears that the touch of his skin is no longer enough to pacify the pain. A flash of recognition musters in your mind from the near-imperceptible sudden knit of Morpheus' brows, the tautness in his own chest; subdued cues that he shares this affliction.

You reach out with your free hand and spread your palm across his sternum, feeling the fierce shuddering there that matches yours.

His soul.

It is under the same stress as yours. He had said he could feel the sub-epidermal heat like you but had made no mention of this. Supernatural being or not, Morpheus is grappling with pain and it will simply not do.

Your eyes flick up, your decision made in the next heartbeat.

"I surrender."

Quicksilver flashes through those blackhole irises and with an exultant groan he sheathes himself within you.

You screw your eyes shut and cry out, amazed by how far he is able to push in before he meets resistance. The overstimulation you had been predicting is absent, as is the agony you feared would accompany it. It's just the involuntary constricting of your channel that you contend with, a metronome swinging between discomfort and enjoyment.

"Look at me," Morpheus commands in that velvet voice.

You comply, and when you do you see that his eyes are blue again. A pair of cerulean pools; tranquil, somewhere to shelter. If only you could relax enough to slip into those waters. There's so much tension in your jaw and balled fists, inside you.

"Breathe," he coaxes, guiding you with tenderness, a hand reaching to hold yours to give it a grounding squeeze.

You inhale slowly and shakily, mouth forming a shape of surprise when the muscles slacken and allow Morpheus to sink those last few centimetres within you.

The agony inside your chest ceases and from the small change in Morpheus' posture, you intuit that his has too. Heat like a solar flare envelopes you head to toe and the weight of his lustful stare only adds to the pyre.

"Mmm, that's it," he praises huskily, putting a forearm flat on the bed next to your face. "You feel divine, Y/N."

You nod zealously, unable to concur in any other way as he has robbed you completely of sentence forming. Your walls flutter as you adjust to the stretch, the feeling of this beautiful being bottomed out inside you. Your soulmate, exactly where he needs to be.

Morpheus makes the first move; a languid roll of his hips that grazes every place inside you, and releases breathy moans from you both. Your grab onto him, the spot where neck meets shoulder, as your mind scrambles to process the pleasure. With this initial test completed, he studies your expression, looking for any indication of a wish to stop. He finds none. Only a pair of expectant eyes overflowing with desire for him to keep teaching you like he promised.

He begins to rock into you with lavish, sensual thrusts. Your cunt unfurls even further to ease his movements; you are a moonflower, blooming under the night sky that overlooks the chamber, under his celestial form.

Remembering how much he liked it before, you move your free hand to play with his hair, eliciting deep-seated shudders all down his spine. It is joyous to inspire another such visceral reflex and you feel it pass through into your own body at each point of contact.

If he is a sculptor, you are the clay yielding beneath the presses of his body, shaping you into something entirely new - a lover. Just when he has you in the desired form, he changes everything.

He slows to a stop, still tucked safely within your warmth and secures his hands around your calves to bring them around his slight waist. You're not sure how it's possible but the change in elevation makes him feel even thicker.

His eyes are becoming darker again, gaze centred steadfastly on your face as he once more restrains both your wrists against the midnight coloured sheets. The semiotics give an unmistakable clue to his plan.

He's going to fuck you like he said he wanted.

You brace as he drags his cock back, and then he delivers a bruising thrust, animalistic grunt sounding low in his throat as the jut of his hip bones imprint into your flesh. A measure of dark lust is shot into your bloodstream and immediately you yearn for more of this roughness.

"Please," you say breathlessly.

He indulges you with a barrage of hammering thrusts, moans tumbling from your lips with abandon as warmth settles in your skeleton. His own vocalisations of pleasure syncopate with the completion of each thrust. The sound takes residence in your brain, his touch in every cell. The wish he had to occupy you in entirety is being granted.

You only take your eyes off him for a handful of seconds to look at the place where your bodies are joined, where he is slamming into you, the obscene image of it.

It's like he is an open flame and you are being doused in 99% proof vodka; the fire under your skin is so intense that your moans transform into screams. Morpheus consumes them all with the sudden seal of his mouth over yours.

The smothering action unlocks something inside you. In your chest, where your soul resides, it is vibrating aggressively, much more than it has done in the course of the evening thus far.

Morpheus notices the surge in the shaking and pulls back from the kiss.

"We must be close," he muses.

You feel the orb writhe in retaliation to his statement and your whole body does the same involuntarily.

"Shhh," he says in baritone purrs, pausing in his movements to soothe you. "A little longer and then I will breach the last defence about your soul."

His tone is confident as he restarts the powerful pace he has set, "I will not fail you."

He is stormy waves against a sea wall, bringing with it both the promise of blissful inundation and the threat of drowning. Yet you wouldn't mind drowning in him. A deep-rooted impulse tells you it would be an honour to lose yourself to the King of Dreams and Nightmares.

Your conclusion translates to the contraction of your calf muscles as you pull Morpheus tighter against you, deepening the physical connection to him as well as the emotional; choosing to submit fully to this somewhat scary situation - the tying together of your souls.

Pulling him closer, it's not without cost. The extra exertion, the deeper angle he can now reach, with all the pleasure it brings, quickly takes its toll. You are becoming weaker, his determined expression growing blurry, the edges of your vision field greying and closing in. You can't tell if you're about to climax or pass out.

Morpheus, observant and empathic, interlaces his fingers with yours and grips them tightly, clearly intent on keeping you here, not drifting off into the dimension of unconsciousness. Your returning hold is just as strong, perhaps a tad on the side of overtly vehement, but if it is then he doesn't seem to care. He just keeps railing into you, the warning signs of an oncoming orgasm beginning to daintily pulse through your walls.

A long-fingered hand reaches between your bodies to hover over your clit. With the last of your energy reserves, you arch up into his fingers, determined to reach your high, instinct telling you that it will somehow aid Morpheus in his endeavours.

He grunts sinfully in approval at your enthusiasm and uses the pad of his index finger to stimulate you, a familiar instruction issued as your soul jolts sharply, shockwaves rocking your bones.

"Let go."

The way he says the words, coupled with the movements of his hand and cock brings on the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty seconds elapse where your muscles are clamping down, desiring to keep his still-moving length as deep inside as possible. You loudly say his name, pleasure devouring you whole as you look adoringly into Morpheus' indigo eyes, before you are devastated by a snapping sensation as he breaks your soul open.

You are splintered and for a measure of moments, the exposed edges of the shards threaten to turn your insides to ribbons. Your brace for lacerations is short-lived; his essence, like liquid lapis, pours in to bind the pieces of your soul. Melding with you on a metaphysical level. Waking you from the mortal life you had and greeting you with a new path.

While you have no basis for comparison, an errant thought occurs to you that what is transpiring between you and Morpheus is fulfilling something of unfathomable importance. Something that was borne far from this room, in both the measures of space and time. Primordial. Inexorable. This linking of your soul with his is the culmination of what the Fates have wanted for millennia.

And once your soul is content, your essence begins to reach out in return. Like tender shoots drawn towards solar light, your soul stretches past its boundary to embrace his.

It's the final trigger that allows Morpheus to find his own release. His mouth jumps in astonishment, eyes turning black, then silver, then blue; a broken groan echoing around the low-lit room as he buries his pulsating cock deep inside you and spills his seed into your cunt.

You keen from the warmth of it, and you swear the fast paced breaths he is taking sound like melodies carried on ocean breezes.

The stars above you have been joined by dancing swathes of green and purple - a depiction of the Aurora Borealis at its finest. It swells with each inhale that Morpheus takes, his state having a direct effect on the sky. The colours catch the high points of his face, glowing vibrantly on his cheekbones, nose bridge and cupid's bow.

You wonder if this is the most beautiful sight you will ever see. The perfect face of your ethereal soulmate, framed by celestial splendour, gazing at you with the same devotion that you are casting towards him. But then he smiles. A small, genuine smile that makes your heart soar despite its fatigue, and it's clear that there will never be anything that can compare.

Morpheus then lowers his head to your chest and presses his lips to your healed soul.

"You are complete," he declares.

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Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

Blinding: "Felt it in my fists, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids. Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs. No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone. No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden. No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love with the wrong world."

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