|| An Independent RP blog for Dream of the Endless from Netflix' 'The Sandman' ||
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This RP Blog is currently looking for other in-character players. Preferencing third-person, narrative-based posts. Please review the Rules and About pages for more information. Open starters are available in the Master List, if desired.
Players: I Am Dream's Game Roster is now FULL as of 20/1/2026
Don't let that stop you! DM or Ask NOW to plan your next game with Morpheus, King of Dreams. Duplicates ALWAYS welcome!
Characters we would like to meet include:
[} Original Characters
Sweetest Sister,
On this day of your mortal birth, I bring you tribute. My heart is with you. I, who have been at your side since the hour of our existence and will continue to walk with you until the last living soul is rendered into your sweet realm and our existence ceases.
You are adored, precious Sister. Every mortal year, your wisdom blossoms and grows like the eternal rose. As does my love of you.
Always and forever,
Your Eternal Brother,
I
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou,
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low,
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With living hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and preserver; hear, oh hear!
II
Thou on whose stream, mid the steep sky's commotion,
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed,
Shook from the tangled boughs of Heaven and Ocean,
Angels of rain and lightning: there are spread
On the blue surface of thine aƫry surge,
Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height,
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge
Of the dying year, to which this closing night
Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail will burst: oh hear!
III
Thou who didst waken from his summer dreams
The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lull'd by the coil of his crystallineĀ streams,
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Quivering within the wave's intenser day,
All overgrown with azure moss and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,
And tremble and despoil themselves: oh hear!
IV
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be
The comrade of thy wanderings over Heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seem'd a vision; I would ne'er have striven
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh, lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A heavy weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd
One too like thee: tameless, and swift, and proud.
V
Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is:
What if my leaves are falling like its own!
The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe
Like wither'd leaves to quicken a new birth!
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
Ode to the West Wind - P.B. Shelley 1820
[ @cybelemami ]
Now that the party is in full swing and that everyone in attendance are enjoying themselves immensely at the moment, I must send a very, oh so very special package to my mirror...
With a smile on his face, the Dream Lord gently pushed the large steel-box in a portal that would lead to his darling mirror's realm
To those curious as to what does the gift contain, it is simply mice and rats trained to Rickroll who ever has to take care of them, along with glitter and...Jess.
Why, you may ask? Well 'She Who Resides In The Great Potato Chip Bag' dared to put corner-stops on every furniture that I owned, all because of the unfortunate mishap that resulted in the stitches you see before you.
i also do not wish to be wrapped in layers of bubble wrap so please, my mirror, keep the box with you long enough so that i do not have to worry about that godforsaken package material. @i-am-dream. i also tied her up with multiple layers of red ribbons while also paying close attention to her wrists, legs, ankles, along with her eyes and mouth :)
Why.... this was .... a curious thing to receive.
Something of its nature inspired him to take the steel box to his private tower and open it with care.
The rats, fat and glossy-furred scurried out at a panic leaving a trail of glitter and poorly selected 80s hits in their wake. He paid them no mind. He knew no fear. Rats were often the servants of his sister Dispair.
But the elegant female tied in red ribbon against the box's bottom was enough to make his tongue quicken in his mouth. This was.... unexpected.
His Mirror, most beloved, had a curious sense of humour when the mood struck him so. What on earth he meant by sending him the Witch Jess in delicate bondage was entirely out of his view. He had been known as slow to comprehend humour on occasion.
Delicately, he leaned low and plucked the ribbon that bound her mouth slowly from her lips.
Before repeating the gesture for the binding at her eyes and wrapped them both around his palm.
He looked down upon her. Pale skin and flushed cheeks. Those lips too red, those eyes too hot.
"Oh, look at you... Trussed up so sweetly." His brow arches elegantly. His smile shimmers for a second.
"My Mirror delivers you to my realm, like a gift. He should know better. I've no need for mortal pets, if mortal is indeed what you are."
It's only a moment, but his tongue is very red against his lower lip. His eyes shine in approval.
"Am I to make a game of you, Jess?" And then, thinking better of it, he adds,
"Don't you dare smile at me like that, it's indecent. His Majesty would not send you to me without good reason. Now stop your writhing and speak plainly. What have you done... and should I get my riding crop?"
[@jg-rp & @king-of-dreams-and-nightmares]
Me smiling is indecent, but the way you're looking at me while threatening me with even more of a good time isn't? *purses her lips before managing to sit up just enough to get her head above the edge of the box and see where they are before laying back down* And in your private quarters, no less!
*sees the impatient look in his eyes and shrugs as best as she can in her bindings* His royal reflection has had a run of bad luck lately. First, he got sick ā which I didn't even know was possible ā and then he managed to bust open his face falling to the floor after someone startled him. I thought maybe some precautions should be taken, so I put soft corner guards on some of his furniture, not all of it. He got offended and decided sending me to you in a box was a just punishment. *more of an aside* Not sure why he thought the rodents would be a punishment, though. Mice and rats are cute, and I straight up told him I like Rick Astley.
*looks him over, briefly biting her lip before going on* The ribbon was my idea, though. But I didn't suggest full-on mummification; that was his idea. *smirks* I thought you might appreciate some gift wrapping as much as I do.
So... does this meet his majesty's approval? Or will I be in need of more discipline?
He was quiet for the longest time.
Azure eyes and human features assessed her through the cool air of the expansive, black-walled chamber.
He was slow to comprehend humour at times, but that did not mean the curious comedy of what had come to pass didn't inspire his lips to quirk slightly at their corners as her story unfolded.
He nodded slowly from time to time in comprehension.
His right brow arched in amused contemplation. Her gaze was hot and disarming even through the protection of his heavy raiment.
Her flirtatious body language and the pull of her lower lip did not escape his notice.
He drew out the moments after her question. Letting the silence settle between them, if for nothing more than to keep her unbalaenced on the edge of discomfort.
Before at last, he strode forward, stopping an inch before the box and bending slightly to take her wrists in his.
He could have disintegrated the ribbon with a mere thought. But in this instance, he wished to experience that tactile sensation that came from slowly and gently unbinding her, loop for loop, for loop.
Upwards now, over he wrists and forearms, above her elbows and shoulders. For every loop of red satin he unbound another inch of mikly flesh was revealed to his eyes.
If the sight moved him, it did not show. His features remained impassive, his eyes focused on his work.
Her arms freed, he moved now his steady, practiced hands to her delicate feet, revealing her toes and ankles. Tender and deliberate as he worked the ribbon free of her calves and knees. Only once he was satisfied the lady would be able to rise and walk of her own accord, did he leave off his delicate labours.
The red ribbon rolled delicately in his hand and then set aside at the foot of the box.
He straightened and smiled almost disarmingly.
"My Mirror is... whimsical." He settled on, "In his manner. But not without intent." He watched her, seemingly looking through the young woman.
"I suggest you make your apologies at your earliest convenience if you seek to keep his confidence. Today, he sends you to me in a six foot steel box bound in ribbon and rodents. Tomorrow, he might hang you by the ankles from the sky tower overlooking an infinite drop into oblivion."
His smile maintained, but the sharpness in his tone suggested trifling would be poorly received.
"It would do you well to remember that my Mirror and I are two separate aspects of the same entity, that exist in different spectrums of time and space. Unless I commune with him directly, I cannot foresee his actions or words, just as he cannot foresee mine. Now perhaps you understand that whatever events he may expereince are outside my sphere of influence. That said, I am in no position to discipline you for actions that appear to have been in compassion to his best interests."
Now he reached forward and offered the young lady his hand.
"No hard feelings, so to speak. Come, take my hand. I have duties to attend, but I would leave you in the care of my gentle handmaids to attend you for a time until you think it prudent to return to the Waking."
He smiled at her again. This time it was a softened, gentle expression.
"And don't tamper with his possessions anymore, Miss Jess. I'm given to understand that his rendition of Mervyn is twice the curmudgeon mine is."
For starters, I ate an entire pan of Taramis's special brownies and now I can hear colors and taste sounds!
AND MY BOYFRIEND KEEPS STEALING MY DAD'S FUCKING CLOTHES!!!
DAD!!! @i-am-dream Ridoc is trying to raid your wardrobe while you're busy and out of the palace!
For heaven's sake, boy! There's a lady present!
Put. On. Some. Trousers.
Absolutely no one needs to see your manhood outlined in such absurdly coloured under garments.
If you were in such dire need of raiment, you should have asked sooner!
Fine!
Take the belt if it will keep your pants buckled to your hips.
What my daughter sees in you I'll never know...
Actually, I recant that - I saw it.
Well played.
I'll conclude my business and be back presently.... With a chastity belt.
For starters, I ate an entire pan of Taramis's special brownies and now I can hear colors and taste sounds!
AND MY BOYFRIEND KEEPS STEALING MY DAD'S FUCKING CLOTHES!!!
DAD!!! @i-am-dream Ridoc is trying to raid your wardrobe while you're busy and out of the palace!
Now that the party is in full swing and that everyone in attendance are enjoying themselves immensely at the moment, I must send a very, oh so very special package to my mirror...
With a smile on his face, the Dream Lord gently pushed the large steel-box in a portal that would lead to his darling mirror's realm
To those curious as to what does the gift contain, it is simply mice and rats trained to Rickroll who ever has to take care of them, along with glitter and...Jess.
Why, you may ask? Well 'She Who Resides In The Great Potato Chip Bag' dared to put corner-stops on every furniture that I owned, all because of the unfortunate mishap that resulted in the stitches you see before you.
i also do not wish to be wrapped in layers of bubble wrap so please, my mirror, keep the box with you long enough so that i do not have to worry about that godforsaken package material. @i-am-dream. i also tied her up with multiple layers of red ribbons while also paying close attention to her wrists, legs, ankles, along with her eyes and mouth :)
Why.... this was .... a curious thing to receive.
Something of its nature inspired him to take the steel box to his private tower and open it with care.
The rats, fat and glossy-furred scurried out at a panic leaving a trail of glitter and poorly selected 80s hits in their wake. He paid them no mind. He knew no fear. Rats were often the servants of his sister Dispair.
But the elegant female tied in red ribbon against the box's bottom was enough to make his tongue quicken in his mouth. This was.... unexpected.
His Mirror, most beloved, had a curious sense of humour when the mood struck him so. What on earth he meant by sending him the Witch Jess in delicate bondage was entirely out of his view. He had been known as slow to comprehend humour on occasion.
Delicately, he leaned low and plucked the ribbon that bound her mouth slowly from her lips.
Before repeating the gesture for the binding at her eyes and wrapped them both around his palm.
He looked down upon her. Pale skin and flushed cheeks. Those lips too red, those eyes too hot.
"Oh, look at you... Trussed up so sweetly." His brow arches elegantly. His smile shimmers for a second.
"My Mirror delivers you to my realm, like a gift. He should know better. I've no need for mortal pets, if mortal is indeed what you are."
It's only a moment, but his tongue is very red against his lower lip. His eyes shine in approval.
"Am I to make a game of you, Jess?" And then, thinking better of it, he adds,
"Don't you dare smile at me like that, it's indecent. His Majesty would not send you to me without good reason. Now stop your writhing and speak plainly. What have you done... and should I get my riding crop?"
[@jg-rp & @king-of-dreams-and-nightmares]
Marry me please? Iād rather not marry that prick Louis. :)
That.... Is a jest you should not make lightly, Dreamer.
Marriage is a sanctuary of devotion given in vow and spirit.
I have only given my vow of marriage to one in this lifetime. That was enough for my every eternity.
Perhaps one day you will find the one that connects your spirit into transecendence, and that will be enough for your every eternity too.
Until then, I will be here to take your hand in mine and guide you through my gentle realm. We will walk together. Speak with each other tenderly. I would serve you, adore you. I assure you, sweetling, my passion far outstrips that of any husband. My protection is all-encompassing. My love is unconditional, raw, nerve-deep.
You've danced with me in your dreams. I leave you with flowers and the taste of sweetness against your tongue.
Your every fantasy is catered for and caressed when you enter my gates and wander my palace.
But when you wake, beloved, our fantasy ends. I shan't see you again until you hear my voice whisper to you sweetly.
"Come to me... tired one... Fall into me... Let me love you as only I can."
But in Waking and sleep, your Louis pledges his immortal vow to you. Its beauty is far greater than any pleasure I might give you so fleetingly.
Now go to him, give him your heart.
And I will see you both when we dance again in sleep.
-A shimmering golden butterfly created by Vanir magic finds its way to Morpheus's throne room. It hovers before him for a moment, then with a soft burst of light it vanishes and an emerald green envelope falls into his hand. His name is elegantly written upon the front in golden ink.-
Happy Valentine's Day, my Darling Morpheus. I hope you are having a splendid day and that your duties are not keeping you too terribly busy.
On this event of our first Valentine's Day, I wish to personally invite you to join me for an evening affair of traditional Vanir celebration. There will be festivities and a play to celebrate this most beloved holiday, and after, a private meal for two consisting of all the delicacies that Vanaheim has to offer.
I await your response with baited breath, my love, and I do so hope that you may have the time to join me.
With all of my love,
Your Rayne
How his heart did sing then!
He turned the letter over in his hand, brought it to his nose to breathe in the delicate scent of perfume that was distinctly hers.
His eyes slid closed, intoxicated. She wanted him. And he wanted her.
The letter was folded neatly and tucked away in the folds of his dark coat. He would cherish this sheet of paper for an eternity.
"My Lord?" Lucienne looked up the winding staircase as her King smiled indulgently to himself.
"A summons, from the Queen of Vanaheim for the day of Saint Valentine." He whispered, rising from his throne. It was no good, he would not be able to focus on his labours now that his heart was so taken.
"The Dreaming is at peace, my Lord. I shall manage duties in your stead. Go to her. All will be well."
His Lucienne. How he adored her.
He decended the stairs, floating rather than walking and paused at thier foot to kiss at her cheek.
"May the Gods keep you, always, Lucienne."
The elegant Librarian flushed rosy at the cheeks. Her Lord must have been in a mood to kiss her so, here in the very throne room.
"I serve no Gods, my Lord, for you alone are my shepherd and Master." She called in his wake. Her own smile wide and indulgent.
"I should expect the day off for this kindness, Lord Morpheus."
The King waved away the request as he sauntered out from the great doors to the sound of her bright laughter.
---
It was later in his private offices within the luxuriant confines of the Northern tower that made up his personal suite of apartments, that the King seated himself to write her reply.
Thus, he wrote:
Immortal Beloved,
My heart burns at the very notion.
There is nothing on Heaven nor Earth that would stop me from joining you on this day. I am yours, always and forever, your servant at arms. Defender of your tender heart.
Know this, not an hour passes where I do not mourn your loss at my side. My Kingdom is nothing but cold without you. I flourish under your care, the tenderest of flowers. Treat me as you would this rose. May my petals tear under your delicate hands so as I may lay upon your bed with your skin atop me.
Yours, forever,
Morpheus
Roses of blood red were pressed to the sandstone parchment. The letter was sealed in black wax with the flying raven impressed upon it.
Matthew alone was tasked with its delivery. Romantic words on black wings.
The palace was quiet that night. The King was absent from his realm.
But all that could and would dream, that night dreamt of nothing but love in its purest form.
Ifā¦ someone were toā¦ y'know, hypothetically speaking,ā¦maybe set... fire to something? Or someone. No one's discriminating here.
Andā¦ hypothetically speakingā¦ that something - OR SOMEONE - was a little importantā¦.?
Would the Dream Lord be - hypothetically speaking - a littleā¦. pissed?
Signed - HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING -
A Nightmare.
[@ridoc-fuckslikeathird-gamlyn]
Gently now, the Dream King folded the note in half and set it aside atop the pile of his other correspondence. If he was irritated by the words written therein, it did not show on his face. At least, not yet.
Rather, he sought to take a fresh sheet of paper from its tidy pile atop his writing desk and reached for his black raven quill pen. The sharpened gold nib was dipped in the black ink pot, dabbed carefully and then applied to the paper.
The words appeared thus, in his elegant, scripted hand.
'Nightmare Ridoc'
His reply began. For he knew exactly who this ridiculous missive came from and wanted the author of that hideous note to know he was about as discreet as an African elephant in a China shop. He continued,
'What is this class of stupidity you invent now by which to waste my time? Have you absolutely no respect for your sovereign? My tolerance of your low-born idiocy is only wavering above the threshold of destruction because my Kyra thinks so fondly of you. But I warn you not to labour under the misconception that we are by any means on terms that would permit you to address me directly in any capacity.
How dare you, wretch! Which of my raven's minds did you pollute to have them slip me that note? What's more, what is this tripe you concoct about "hypothetically burning" something or someone of import to me?! I'm going to find you, dragon rider... There is nothing hypothetical about it or what I'll do to you if my palace staff come upon you in castle grounds unbound from Kyra's leash will be nothing short of biblical annihilation.
Royally Pissed Off,
Your King'
He set down the quill. Let the ink dry, reading over his work.
"Matthew!" His call was sharp in the empty air of the library office.
Nothing for a moment, then the strong, steady flap of wings and the faithful bird landing upon his King's desk proudly.
"Yo Boss! What's the mission?!" The elegant bird said, turning his clever head this way and that.
"Do me a favour, my friend. Find Ridoc, the Dragon Rider of the Forth Wing, whom Kyra has taken such an infatuation with. Give him this note. I'll seal it with wax, thus. He wrote to me. Our carrier ravens dispatched the letter to my desk moments ago. He asks in his own nauseating way if I would be put out at his having burned something or someone in the palace. Tell him the King summons him to the throne room. Do not admit him. Make him wait under arrest of the Royal Guard. Make him sweat it out. Then have the guards drag him before me. It is time I take his fool measure."
Nodding, Matthew casually clacked his talons over the desk and read the note Ridoc had sent, nodding to himself as the picture began to make sense. The great dark bird laughed.
"Hoooo man! You gonna kill him, huh? He didn't mean it, Boss, he's trying to get a rise outta you. Nothing burns in this place without or Merv moaning about it first."
"Matthew... fifteen minutes before this letter's arrival, Mervyn reported a great big bloody dragon pelting down the Southern courtyard. The Wyvern was instructed to halt his procession."
"Oh... uh.... okay... I admit... I wasn't on top of that one. Ehhh... where is this dragon now, please?"
"Under arrest of the Royal Guard. Now, find the boy, give him the letter and investigate what that stupid beast has burned before Mervyn sets a bulldozer to him. Savvy?"
The Raven carefully picked the sealed note from his King's proffered fingers. The mischievous gleam in his eyes barely contained his enjoyment.
"You got it, Boss. Find the boy, and his pet, give 'em the note, bring him back to the throne room and let you kick his ass two points to Sunday. I got it, I got it. Back in few - hang tight!"
The King watched his great black feathered friend take to the air and reclined in his timber seat.
He shook his head and smiled.
"Stupid boy." He whispered to himself before reaching for the next letter.
His passage into the Waking was always a gentle thing. He did not disturb the world around him. Often, he didn't so much as cast a shadow. It simply didn't occur to him. He was transient. His presence was marked by the eyes of an intelligent cat that noted his form. No one else saw him because he wished them not to. He had one intention.
To visit a friend with whom he'd disagreed over a triviality.
His silence had lasted too long.
So he excused himself from the Dreaming, advising Lucienne he would be away an hour in the Waking.
Now he stood at her doorstep wearing the skin of a man and eyes of azure waters. Gently, he knocked at the front door. A book in his free hand that he hoped to give the young woman as a gift.
The cat yawned and stretched as she watched him from atop the timber picket fence, arching her back in the warm midday sun.
"Do you think she'll see me, little friend?" He asked quietly.
The cat sat on her haunches, studying him. She said nothing, but tilted her head.
He could hear footsteps beyond. Coming closer.
[ @jg-rp ]
Jess paused and quirked her head slightly at the gentle knocking. She didn't have any clients scheduled for pick-ups or consults today. Walk-ins had become practically non-existent with all the recent snow turning the half-mile gravel road to her cabin in the woods into a slick stretch of icy mud. That aside, she hadn't heard a car pull up. People had parked on the side of the main road and walked the 10 minutes before, but never during the winter.
She sighed and put her mug on the coffee table in her living room, glad she hadn't sat down and gotten cozy under the throw blanket on her sofa yet. She hurried to the door, tossing her curls casually over her shoulder as she exited the living room. Whoever it was must be desperate if they were seeking her services in the dead of winter.
She opened the door, and felt her heart sink into her stomach before slamming up into the back of her throat.
Dream.
"...Hi..."
It had been weeks since she'd last seen him; or, to be more precise, since they'd both stormed away from one another after he'd baited her into an argument and she'd lost her temper over it. The two of them bickering was nothing new, but this one had been different. Their banter had always been playful and flirty before. But this had felt personal to her right from the start, and that shift in their usual dynamic had caught her off-guard and set her off-balance. Maybe that was why she let her insecurities get the better of her and wound up getting defensive in the worst ways possible.
She'd needed a few days to calm down after waking up with her fists balled tightly around her covers and her eyes stinging with angry tears. When she had calmed, though, she felt awful about letting things escalate in the way they did.
Part of her wanted to apologize immediately. But she didn't want him to think she was okay with how he had handled his end of things. Letting others push at her boundaries had never worked out for her in the past, and she wasn't about to knowingly let someone do it again, no matter how powerful they were.
So she held back, patiently waiting to see if he would send her some sort of messenger or indirect olive branch in her dreams. She didn't expect any sort of outright apology ā he was too proud for her to ever expect that ā but that didn't mean she didn't have hope for some kind of peace offering. The more time that passed without incident, however, the more she realized that wasn't going to happen. The Dream King's cold anger and penchant for holding grudges was infamous. Most of the stories she'd heard about him from the magical community before meeting him involved his temper to some degree. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the realization stung horribly, but she had started slowly accepting the fact that they'd both fucked up, and she was the only one who would want to work things out in this century. She didn't like it, but she really thought he was too upset with her for any sort of interaction any time soon.
Which is why she was so shocked to see him on the other side of her door. She stood stock still with her hand still on the cold doorknob, her eyes wide as a heavy silence dragged on and her breath curled out into the cold winter air between them.
He was here. In the Waking World. On her front porch. Standing with his usual elegant, regal posture in all black designer clothes. And there she stood on the other side of the threshold, in a knee-length, heather grey hoodie dress and black knitted tights, with her cheeks tinging pink from the cold. She suddenly felt under-dressed in her own home.
A soft crunch of snow snapped her out of her daze. She glanced to the side and saw her black "barn" cat, Nyx, moving towards her cat house behind the cabin, being careful to only tread in tracks she'd previously made.
Her eyes flit back to Dream, and she felt her pulse stutter when she realized he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. He looked like he was appraising her, his gaze anticipatory and calculating in a way she wasn't unfamiliar with. But there was something... different beneath it. Something that almost looked soft.
Jess shook her head slightly, trying to snap herself out of her surprised daze and to get herself to stop staring at him.
"It's too cold to talk like this," she said in a hurry while stepping aside and gesturing into the house. "Come in. I just poured myself a mug of tea, so the water in the kettle is still hot if you want some."
She swallowed and took a deep breath in, trying to calm her nerves. "What can I do for you?"
For the longest heartbeats he merely stood, transfixed upon her doorstep. His gentle, compassionate gaze took in the lines of her face. Reading the shifting colours of her eyes. The threshold open to him. Within its inviting warmth, the scent of cloves and nutmeg, fig cream and lemons drifted lazily out into the bitter cold of winterās kiss, seducing him inward with invisible tendrils.
Her eyes were clear and bright, her cheeks flushed ruddy and beautiful. Earth mother. The quiet witch of the new age.
If the cold of the snowstorm sank its nails beneath his skin, it did not show. For the weather did not affect him overly much here in the Waking.
āThank you,ā He said at last. His voice a deep, hypnotic roll of thunder cain velvet. He could taste her subsumed anxiety. Its coils of tension made her pupils constrict and her voice lose its musical tone.
āTeaā¦ would be lovely.ā He admitted, stepping through the portal of her home on the wings of her welcome. His black boots surprisingly quiet beneath his weight. He would not have been overly surprised if she took one look at his dark form through the peep hole of her door and decided not to answer. The fact that she did, and bid him enter, invited him to drink and asked after his intention meant that the communication lines between them had not been as severed as all that.
What he had stretched and damaged was his fault. He was well willing to accept this blame on his part.
Now he waited until the young woman shut the door in his wake and was immediately caressed by the warmth of her home. Tender, autumnal colours and rich, natural textures everywhere he looked. Smell of books and parchment, fresh herbs and delicate meals. And richer scents here too. Scents the human nose were not savvy to. Scent of magicā¦ Its taut, lingering elasticity that transmuted ideas between the veil was something that he felt, skin deep.
He appreciated the warmth here. A great deal more preferable to the sting of the cold that pinched at his skin beneath his expensively tailored clothes of black gabardine, worsted wool and cotton. Though his dark coat was ankle-length, luxuriant, and elegant, it was not perhaps thick enough to block the late winter chill. Even so, he could bear it.
Her question hung in the air. Pregnant and overly formal. As if he were yet another of her clients seeking navigation of this complex life and its intricacies.
It set his jaw firm.
She couldnāt do anything for him. He needed nothing of her and he had never been selfish enough to make demands of any living being beneath him. Quite the reverse. He gave of himself. Like his sandsā¦ like his function and name. He was Endless.
He waited for her to settle within her skin. She lookedā¦ uncomfortable. The heaviness between them needed to be dispelled. So he came forth and cut it through his teeth and lips.
āI thought we could talk.ā Thereā¦ her pupils fluttered. He was watching her breathe. He needed to get deeper.
āItās been too longā¦ And when last we met, our terms ended poorly. Iāve been distantā¦ entrenched in the unending mires of my work as is my function, yes, but Iāve had time to reflect.ā He held her gaze with immovable purpose.
āI should like to amend our past conversation. Move forward. Acknowledge our differences. My faultingā¦ yoursā¦ Put it behind us and try again. Only if you consider it amenable?ā Now it was his question that hung fruitful and heavy.
[ Closed Exclusive RP for @jg-rp ONLY ]
Her breath caught high in her chest at his proposal. This was... unexpected. She'd been certain any attempt from him at resolving things would have been indirect, or possibly even impersonal. Something like sending his raven with a message, or summoning her to the palace while she slept and then acting like nothing had happened. Just the fact that he acknowledged having fault about the whole thing was a surprise. Then again, so was him turning up on her doorstep.
Maybe he wasn't as cold and unyielding as all the stories she'd heard made him out to be.
"Yeah, of course," she agreed, some of the tension easing out of her shoulders. She nodded to the open entryway behind him while continuing, "Let me fix your mug first. I've got a fire going in the living room. We can talk in there. You go sit and make yourself comfortable. I'll be back out in a sec."
Jess turned and hurried through the kitchen's swinging door before he could respond; or worse, change his mind.
She let out a long breath as she opened the cabinet and pulled out one of the first mugs her hand hit along with a bag of green tea, his words echoing in her head while grabbed the still warm kettle off the stove and poured steaming water into the cup.
"It's been too long. ... I've been distant."
So he had been staying away from her on purpose, just as she suspected. But that also implied he didn't want to stay distant ā that he wanted to close the gap between them and mend the rift. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd wanted it for just as long as she did, but was too proud to admit it until now. Maybe one day she'd ask him when things weren't so delicate between them again.
Only once the mug was filled did she realize she had no idea how he liked his tea. She huffed out a sigh of frustration at herself and reached for a serving tray she kept on the counter, continuing to reflect while filling it with a small jar of local wildflower honey; a small plate of dried lemon and orange slices, and a few cinnamon sticks; a small dish of sugar cubes; a cream pitcher full of milk; and a teaspoon.
"Put it behind us and try again."
That sentence alone warmed her in a way she found difficult to articulate. She wasn't great at making and keeping friends; never had been. All of her friendships tended to either slowly fade away or explode after a short, but usually intense, duration. So many people ended up just walking out of her life despite her best efforts. It was something that used to eat at her when she was younger. What was so wrong with her that no one would ever stay? As she'd gotten older, though, she'd learned to live with it and accept it. No relationship lasted forever, regardless of what kind, and that was okay. What was important was to try her best, and to cherish and enjoy the relationships while they lasted. It always hurt when things ended, but she'd learned not to focus on that aspect of them so much over the years (with help from therapy and treating her chronic anxiety with medication, of course).
She couldn't remember the last time someone had seemingly left, only to come back into her life. Dream had been such a rarity in her life to start with, just by virtue of what he was. Him coming into her life was like hearing hooves and finding a zebra. But him willingly coming back into her life and wanting to mend things? He was basically a unicorn. She could not fuck this up.
As present and practical as she'd grown to be, however, her nerves and curiosity still lingered at the back of her mind. Why had he come into her life in the first place? Why her? She had a couple of theories as to why he entertained her and kept her as a friend, but she had no idea why he'd made first contact to begin with. It was something she'd wondered about on occasion since he first used the word friend. She didn't dare ask him about it, though. No use in looking a gift unicorn in the mouth.
Setting the mug amongst the tea things she'd set out, she grabbed the tray and walked out of the kitchen, pushing the door open with her back and her musings out of her head. She needed to focus on the Dream that was here now, not the one in the past or his possible motivations. Which wouldn't be difficult, given how magnetic his presence was.
A small (incredibly thirsty) part of her hoped they could jump right back into their usual rapport once they'd cleared things up. It was by no means the most important part of their dynamic, but she had missed flirting with him something awful. If she'd met him while sober, she doubted she would have been brave enough to purposefully flirt with him, but once he started flirting back while she was sober, she figured she may as well have some fun and see if there could ever be a "with benefits" added to their friendship. It wouldn't ever be necessary for her, but it would be very nice. She'd once heard him described as hot trash because he was extremely attractive, but had a garbage personality. While she didn't disagree with that assessment, she did have to admit she was very much an opossum for his specific type of trash.
There would be plenty of time for a good flirt later, though. For now, she had some mea culpas to say, a bond to reforge and, with any luck, strengthen.
"Sorry for the wait," she said, her pulse quickening again as her eyes landed on him. "I don't know how you like your tea, so I brought some stuff out in case you wanted to add anything.
"So... where do you want to start?"
[[closed RP with @i-am-dream ; image credit for mobile users]]
Heartbeats between them. Simple movement in time whose passage was marked by the subtle, almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest.
His focus on detail unsurpassed. He gazed upon her the way he did all of his creations. With a steady, unrelenting knowing, that deep within the atoms invisible to the naked eye; life was a miracle. He was Endless, yes, but not so brow-beaten and blind as to forget this single fundamental brilliance.Ā
The tension in her posture dissipated and with it so went his own disquiet. She accepted his offer and him in turn.
A difficult thing, for a mortal. She knew himā¦ Intimately, in a way so few others did. Chance and circumstances had thrown them together.
He thanked her for her hospitality and followed her in quiet reverence through the warm, well-appointed cabin. Its walls and alcoves decorated with glass-fronted cabinets that protected any number of magical accoutrements and curiosities. There was art on the walls, books living on shelves and stacked here and there beside lamp tables.
He watched her go. Following instinctively through memory, the chambers of her home until the warmth of the living roomās open hearth invited him to sit and contemplate the flames.
Memory took him in her absence.
His sojourn to the Waking had seen him in need of assistance from transient mediums that understood the veil was thin between one reality and the next. She marked him almost instantly as he came upon her one night in the midst of a ritual she had bungled.
He could not resist the pull of her words, the tension and snap that came as he walked the Moonās Road to the edge of her magic circle and purposely, indelicately broke it with the tip of his polished boot. The ritual interrupted; the sphere of magic broke at his words.
āEnough of that.ā Heād cautioned her. āHeed me, Earth Motherā¦ You disturb the Moon Goddess with this insolence. She wants nothing of your offerings and will not bargain her children into the soulless binding of a mortal, no matter how clever a modern witch she be. Your arts are dying. It is a base thing to entrap the supernatural for your mystical means. I am come to you now, her dark knight. And you will yield this or risk my displeasure.ā
The elegant witch with her shimmering eyes and cascaded hair started, heaving under the strain of the spell. Taken aback, offended at the interruption, she sought to question of his name and origin. He was not the entity she was attempting to commune with. And he was too offended by her reckless daring to care.
āYou know me, mortal. I have been with you since the hour of your birth and will remain at your side until the last breath leaves you. Every time you close your eyes to sleep, your soul travels the astral planes and I guide you to my realm. I am Morpheus. Dream of the Endless. King of all dreams and nightmares.ā
He'd not recalled that memory for a very long time.
The thoughts broke as she returned and the scent of fresh tea served in sturdy simple mugs was placed upon the coffee table before him. One black, one white. This was fitting. There could be no darkness without light. Light lost its meaning without the dark.
Her apology over his preferences made him smile and lower his eyes in gratitude. He enjoyed all food and drink in the physical realm of the Waking. Its taste and texture condensed into such sharp focus here in this space and time.
He gave his thanks, reached for his cup with a gentle, feline elegance and breathed in its aroma. These were good leaves in their silk tea bag, picked in China amongst rolling mountains. Its simplicity was enough to lull his comfort.
āWhere do you want to start?ā Sheād asked of him.
He laid his long, slender fingers upon the book heād set atop her coffee table before the tray and pushed it with a quiet hiss along the timber toward her. A beautiful ox blood coloured, leather bound volume emblazed with gold filigree decorated Arabic script that read āGhĆ¢yat al-įø¤akĆ®mā.
This was the penultimate copy of the Picatrix- an ancient sacred compilation of texts that discussed power exchange between celestial entities and Earthly practitioners. This was the only complete copy in existence that resided within the billowing, brilliant halls of Lucienneās spiralling library in the Dreaming. Now he gave it her. A gift alongside his apology.
āWith a story.ā He offered. Lifting his fingers from the book and gesturing that it was hers to take, before sipping quietly from his cup.
āDo you remember the night we met?ā He asked, reclining back into the cushioned comfort of her sofa. His cool fingers now enveloped the mug whose sturdy black enamel was unable to reflect his shadow. It seemed to swirl and shift out of focus on the cupās surface. Distorted by the fire in the grate.
āYou cursed at me for having disturbed your ritual that had taken months of preparation and so much of your physical essence to execute. You were tasked with calling down a being of the Moon Goddessā celestial gardens. She was to aid you on the fulfilment of your request, but to do so, meant to bind her. To force her to this unnatural plane. To rape her will. Her Excellence would not hear of it and asked of me a boon. To impose and correct this mortal child. I came upon you then in the woodlands and destroyed your circle.Ā You thought me very cruel, didnāt you?ā
Take heed, sweet Beloved,
On this day of Saint Valentine,
You are honoured, treasured, revered and loved. You know me deeply, intimately, sweetly, as I know you. You are the gentle keeper of my romantic heart. Your passions are my passions. Only in dreams do we unfurl together. Your fantasies become my fantasies. Your lovers are my lovers.
Your gentle soul is mine to keep, to love, guide and protect as only I may when you surrender to sleep. I will adore you as no other before me, nor any after.
Your King,
To every Follower, to every Mutual here on Tumblr - You are loved and appreciated. You will always find comfort, friendship and support here. My inbox is always open. You are precious. You are loved.
Thank you for every game you've ever played with me. For every message, every like, every reblog. Thank you. With all my heart, thank you.
For my Endless Family, For my Lovers, For my Immortals, for my Children of the Dreaming. For my friends, new and old -
Your Dream King adores you.
Endless Family:
@endlessly-delirious (Delirium) @golden-eyed-desire (Desire) @cybelemami (Death)
Family, Lovers & Friends:
@king-of-dreams-and-nightmares (My Mirror/Dream of the Endless) @professor-gadling (Hob Gadling) @rayne-of-the-vanir (Rayne of the Vanir) @eyeless-smiles (The Corinthian) @fleurelinathehybrid (Dawn) @dreamer-kyra (Kyra) @ridoc-fuckslikeathird-gamlyn (Ridoc) @ominis-marvolo-gaunt (Ominis) @king-of-underworld (Lucifer Morningstar) @la-petite-poufsouffle (Zoe) @dreamyhopes (Jess)
Immortal Beloveds:
@cybelemami (Robyn Fenty) @leliorisen (Lestat de Lioncourt) @bothbeautyandbeast (Louis de Pointe du Lac) @nicki-de-lenfent (Nicki de Lenfent)
Role Players - If you're looking for some of the finest writers on Tumblr to pit your creative skills against, please take a moment to visit the above-listed blogs. Each of these are independetntly run role players with upwards of 10 years (or more) experience. Some are multi-fandom, others specific to the world of Anne Rice's 'Vampire Chronicles' or Gaimen's 'The Sandman', among many, many others. Please note: all these writers are suitable for audiences 21 and over. Please take a moment to read their rules carefully before connecting with them. I can assure you, they are magnificent! And some of them bite. Hard.
Enjoy yourself!
With Love,
Small Fortunes/I Am Dream
-Kyra siddles up next to him and looks him up and down while squinting. She is clearly deep in thought while her gaze narrows more and more. Finally, she blurts out her question.-
So what exactly does 'fucks like a third' mean? What the fuck is a third? And how does it fuck differently from first or second?
Awww. Aren't you cute!
It means I am infinitely more talented than a First Year, more knowledgeable than a Second, and can make your legs qu-
Wait.
Before I finish my answer....
-looks around, searching- Is your... is your dad lingering around somewhere waiting to mar me for my language? Again?
Well... I can always do that. But, it's especially noteworthy under the circumstances. So basically! You won't be leaving your bed (my bed?) disappointed.
And if that didn't answer your question, then maybe a little hands-on learning is in order?
Within the confines of his office, the King stilled his pen nib over the ledger he worked in. Rows of names and dates, places, events of purpose.
The boy's voice came upon the back of his mind. He listened because Kyra listened, intently in rapt attention. Their private telekinetic bond moved within him, nerve deep and always aware lest he receded his thoughts and quieted her voice along the infinite sea of others.
Delicate and almost jealously respectful of her privacy, he closed his mind to her. But she said his name. Called for him even if it was inadvertent. The mere intention of his title on her lips aroused his attention.
Now he sat rigid as the young man's words echoed like a whipping breeze in the back of her mind. He felt her interest, her attraction. And it bristled him.
Through the Dreaming, his voice came like iron and thunder directly into the dragon rider's subconscious. A single seed implanted. Intangible and irresistible.
"Ridoc.... So help me child. Stop labouring under this delusional miscieption that I am not ever present and listening intently where my daughter is concerned.
You will cherish her company. You will conduct yourself the perfect gentleman. You will entertain her with your wit and what little charm you possess... But if you think you're to have any part of yourself or your dragon between her thighs without my blessing, I will come upon you and set your bones to the foundations of Lucifer's palace. Mark me."
He severed the connection between their minds with a crack and jolt of galvanic energy. Then reclined in his seat and smiled to himself.
'Bastard boy...' He thought. His lips curled as he returned his attention to his ledger.
His passage into the Waking was always a gentle thing. He did not disturb the world around him. Often, he didn't so much as cast a shadow. It simply didn't occur to him. He was transient. His presence was marked by the eyes of an intelligent cat that noted his form. No one else saw him because he wished them not to. He had one intention.
To visit a friend with whom he'd disagreed over a triviality.
His silence had lasted too long.
So he excused himself from the Dreaming, advising Lucienne he would be away an hour in the Waking.
Now he stood at her doorstep wearing the skin of a man and eyes of azure waters. Gently, he knocked at the front door. A book in his free hand that he hoped to give the young woman as a gift.
The cat yawned and stretched as she watched him from atop the timber picket fence, arching her back in the warm midday sun.
"Do you think she'll see me, little friend?" He asked quietly.
The cat sat on her haunches, studying him. She said nothing, but tilted her head.
He could hear footsteps beyond. Coming closer.
[ @jg-rp ]
Jess paused and quirked her head slightly at the gentle knocking. She didn't have any clients scheduled for pick-ups or consults today. Walk-ins had become practically non-existent with all the recent snow turning the half-mile gravel road to her cabin in the woods into a slick stretch of icy mud. That aside, she hadn't heard a car pull up. People had parked on the side of the main road and walked the 10 minutes before, but never during the winter.
She sighed and put her mug on the coffee table in her living room, glad she hadn't sat down and gotten cozy under the throw blanket on her sofa yet. She hurried to the door, tossing her curls casually over her shoulder as she exited the living room. Whoever it was must be desperate if they were seeking her services in the dead of winter.
She opened the door, and felt her heart sink into her stomach before slamming up into the back of her throat.
Dream.
"...Hi..."
It had been weeks since she'd last seen him; or, to be more precise, since they'd both stormed away from one another after he'd baited her into an argument and she'd lost her temper over it. The two of them bickering was nothing new, but this one had been different. Their banter had always been playful and flirty before. But this had felt personal to her right from the start, and that shift in their usual dynamic had caught her off-guard and set her off-balance. Maybe that was why she let her insecurities get the better of her and wound up getting defensive in the worst ways possible.
She'd needed a few days to calm down after waking up with her fists balled tightly around her covers and her eyes stinging with angry tears. When she had calmed, though, she felt awful about letting things escalate in the way they did.
Part of her wanted to apologize immediately. But she didn't want him to think she was okay with how he had handled his end of things. Letting others push at her boundaries had never worked out for her in the past, and she wasn't about to knowingly let someone do it again, no matter how powerful they were.
So she held back, patiently waiting to see if he would send her some sort of messenger or indirect olive branch in her dreams. She didn't expect any sort of outright apology ā he was too proud for her to ever expect that ā but that didn't mean she didn't have hope for some kind of peace offering. The more time that passed without incident, however, the more she realized that wasn't going to happen. The Dream King's cold anger and penchant for holding grudges was infamous. Most of the stories she'd heard about him from the magical community before meeting him involved his temper to some degree. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and the realization stung horribly, but she had started slowly accepting the fact that they'd both fucked up, and she was the only one who would want to work things out in this century. She didn't like it, but she really thought he was too upset with her for any sort of interaction any time soon.
Which is why she was so shocked to see him on the other side of her door. She stood stock still with her hand still on the cold doorknob, her eyes wide as a heavy silence dragged on and her breath curled out into the cold winter air between them.
He was here. In the Waking World. On her front porch. Standing with his usual elegant, regal posture in all black designer clothes. And there she stood on the other side of the threshold, in a knee-length, heather grey hoodie dress and black knitted tights, with her cheeks tinging pink from the cold. She suddenly felt under-dressed in her own home.
A soft crunch of snow snapped her out of her daze. She glanced to the side and saw her black "barn" cat, Nyx, moving towards her cat house behind the cabin, being careful to only tread in tracks she'd previously made.
Her eyes flit back to Dream, and she felt her pulse stutter when she realized he hadn't taken his eyes off of her. He looked like he was appraising her, his gaze anticipatory and calculating in a way she wasn't unfamiliar with. But there was something... different beneath it. Something that almost looked soft.
Jess shook her head slightly, trying to snap herself out of her surprised daze and to get herself to stop staring at him.
"It's too cold to talk like this," she said in a hurry while stepping aside and gesturing into the house. "Come in. I just poured myself a mug of tea, so the water in the kettle is still hot if you want some."
She swallowed and took a deep breath in, trying to calm her nerves. "What can I do for you?"
For the longest heartbeats he merely stood, transfixed upon her doorstep. His gentle, compassionate gaze took in the lines of her face. Reading the shifting colours of her eyes. The threshold open to him. Within its inviting warmth, the scent of cloves and nutmeg, fig cream and lemons drifted lazily out into the bitter cold of winterās kiss, seducing him inward with invisible tendrils.
Her eyes were clear and bright, her cheeks flushed ruddy and beautiful. Earth mother. The quiet witch of the new age.
If the cold of the snowstorm sank its nails beneath his skin, it did not show. For the weather did not affect him overly much here in the Waking.
āThank you,ā He said at last. His voice a deep, hypnotic roll of thunder cain velvet. He could taste her subsumed anxiety. Its coils of tension made her pupils constrict and her voice lose its musical tone.
āTeaā¦ would be lovely.ā He admitted, stepping through the portal of her home on the wings of her welcome. His black boots surprisingly quiet beneath his weight. He would not have been overly surprised if she took one look at his dark form through the peep hole of her door and decided not to answer. The fact that she did, and bid him enter, invited him to drink and asked after his intention meant that the communication lines between them had not been as severed as all that.
What he had stretched and damaged was his fault. He was well willing to accept this blame on his part.
Now he waited until the young woman shut the door in his wake and was immediately caressed by the warmth of her home. Tender, autumnal colours and rich, natural textures everywhere he looked. Smell of books and parchment, fresh herbs and delicate meals. And richer scents here too. Scents the human nose were not savvy to. Scent of magicā¦ Its taut, lingering elasticity that transmuted ideas between the veil was something that he felt, skin deep.
He appreciated the warmth here. A great deal more preferable to the sting of the cold that pinched at his skin beneath his expensively tailored clothes of black gabardine, worsted wool and cotton. Though his dark coat was ankle-length, luxuriant, and elegant, it was not perhaps thick enough to block the late winter chill. Even so, he could bear it.
Her question hung in the air. Pregnant and overly formal. As if he were yet another of her clients seeking navigation of this complex life and its intricacies.
It set his jaw firm.
She couldnāt do anything for him. He needed nothing of her and he had never been selfish enough to make demands of any living being beneath him. Quite the reverse. He gave of himself. Like his sandsā¦ like his function and name. He was Endless.
He waited for her to settle within her skin. She lookedā¦ uncomfortable. The heaviness between them needed to be dispelled. So he came forth and cut it through his teeth and lips.
āI thought we could talk.ā Thereā¦ her pupils fluttered. He was watching her breathe. He needed to get deeper.
āItās been too longā¦ And when last we met, our terms ended poorly. Iāve been distantā¦ entrenched in the unending mires of my work as is my function, yes, but Iāve had time to reflect.ā He held her gaze with immovable purpose.
āI should like to amend our past conversation. Move forward. Acknowledge our differences. My faultingā¦ yoursā¦ Put it behind us and try again. Only if you consider it amenable?ā Now it was his question that hung fruitful and heavy.
[ Closed Exclusive RP for @jg-rp ONLY ]
His passage into the Waking was always a gentle thing. He did not disturb the world around him. Often, he didn't so much as cast a shadow. It simply didn't occur to him. He was transient. His presence was marked by the eyes of an intelligent cat that noted his form. No one else saw him because he wished them not to. He had one intention.
To visit a friend with whom he'd disagreed over a triviality.
His silence had lasted too long.
So he excused himself from the Dreaming, advising Lucienne he would be away an hour in the Waking.
Now he stood at her doorstep wearing the skin of a man and eyes of azure waters. Gently, he knocked at the front door. A book in his free hand that he hoped to give the young woman as a gift.
The cat yawned and stretched as she watched him from atop the timber picket fence, arching her back in the warm midday sun.
"Do you think she'll see me, little friend?" He asked quietly.
The cat sat on her haunches, studying him. She said nothing, but tilted her head.
He could hear footsteps beyond. Coming closer.
[ Exclusive Closed RP Game For: @jg-rp ONLY ]
