If anyone is interested in working with me to write a crossover between The Sandman and Doctor Who, please let me know. I'm dying to know how the Doctor and Morpheus would interact. Especially 9, 10, or 11. I feel like 9 would start a sass war with Matthew or Morpheus, 10 might find Rose (dreams cross dimensions), and 11 would be wandering around like he does when he finds something interesting.
The writers block has been hitting hard y'all, so sorry to any of you who may have been waiting for part 3. Just been mentally dead :/. That and my brain is just doing the thing where too many ideas to focus on the one thing.
Warnings: Reader has mental health issues (don't we all), swearing, angst (reader gets in their own head)
A/N: Chapters will be short for a while, I'm still trying to figure out how to write for them all. š
Your day, as usual, was worse than you had anticipated. It was as though whatever gods there may be had forsaken you from birth.
You woke up earlier than your alarm by an hour. The two hour long exam you had today was terrible, despite studying for hours beforehand. Work was Hell on Earth, and the people you worked with were more rude than usual.
All you wanted was to crawl in bed and get away from your life for a few hours.
So you did.
Sleep came quicker than usual for some reason, and this time you found yourself in a library. It was beautiful, with grand dark bookshelves filled from end to end with books. In your mind, nothing could have been better.
Peace and quiet, mixed with inexplicable lighting that was perfect in every way.
"May I help you find anything?" A kind voice asked from behind you.
Startled, you whip around and face her with evident shock. Though it seemed silly now to expect the library to be empty.
She seemed to recognize you with a bit of shock, though you couldn't say why.
"You must be Mx. L/n, Lord Morpheus has been awaiting your return."
Wait, like Morpheus the Greek god?
For a moment her eyes drifted over your shoulder, and you followed it only to see the same man from before.
"Lucienne, thank you for tending our guest. You may leave now." He spoke lowly as he approached you, stopping only a few feet away.
Lucienne left with a quiet, "Yes, my lord." Off into the depths of the library that ended who knows where.
"Come with me, I have much to discuss with you." Something about the way he spoke made you trust it would all be fine. After all, it's just a dream, right?
You could've sworn in that moment the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smile. However, it was gone so quickly you weren't sure you imagined it.
He turned and walked towards a set of doors that weren't there a moment before, and you followed silently for a moment.
Where the hell is he going anyways?
Just as you were about to ask, you actually looked at the room he had led you into. It was the same throne room from before, but this time it was a little bit less cold.
The fuckā?
"So you're Morpheus?" You ask, before realizing you likely sounded dumb.
"I am." He seemed mildly amused by your presence, though it was hard to tell with how little his face moved. "And you are the dreamer with an unusual ability to control my realm."
Morpheus turned to face you, stopping both of you in your tracks.
"Isn't that how dreams are supposed to work?" You retort, brows furrowing in confusion. "Y'know, lucid dreaming and all that?"
"To an extent." He paused briefly, before continuing with a more serious voice. "Though none can change the Dreaming against my will."
Just what he was talking about, you had no clue. Or maybe you did, and it simply made no sense anyways.
"Tell me, little dreamer, just how did you manage to change the throne room to a dining room?" He seemed genuinely curious to know, and that got your attention.
A god asking about his own realm. Humans were wrong in thinking gods were all-knowing.
"I wanted pancakes." Might as well be honest.
He blinked, and then stared at you for a moment which quickly turned awkward.
Had you offended him somehow?
Then, he laughed. It was short, and harsh, seeming to surprise him as much as it did you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You don't know how long the two of you talked for, but you didn't want it to end. Morpheus had an old world charm that you had loved since you were a teenager, and he was actually kind of sweet. Stubborn, a little scary sometimes, and a bit of a dick occasionally, but sweet. You'd also come to find out here was also called Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, and that he had other titles he didn't entirely care to name.
Somewhere during the conversation, you sat down on the stairs, and he eventually followed.
You learned he had a tendency to talk in such a way you always found yourself leaning in. Always so formal, but it was endearing as well how he told stories in a way that was perfect.
Morpheus found he didn't quite want you to leave, and was slightly disappointed that you were already returning to the Waking World.
The conversation came to a lull after he gave you something to think about involving your most recent project.
He waited for a moment to see if you would say anything in response, before tossing in one last thing. "I shall see you again next time, little dreamer."
You frowned slightly, though it went away when you realized he was going to come back.
"See you tomorrow night, pretty boy." You didn't know why you tacked on that last bit, but you couldn't take it back.
Your alarm clock was going off again, and this time you buried your face in your pillows before hitting the snooze button.
Why did I say that?
Unfortunately for you, you had to start getting ready for the day and couldn't dwell on it.
Surely it would be fine, he probably heard things like that often.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Little did you know, a certain Dream Lord was turning slightly pink at your words.
When Matthew asked him about it, he completely denied that it was there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After another day of fuck around and find out, you were ready to give up. The exam score you got back was a 68%, and you were sure it couldn't get worse until you found out your friends had set up a party and neglected to invite you.
Typical.
When your phone rang, you were stupid enough to think it was maybe one of your friends.
It turned out to be an automated telemarketer, which sucked because you couldn't even pretend at that point someone would waste time talking to you.
Which made you think about Morpheus.
Maybe the only reason he was in your dreams was because of how much it stung to not be able to talk. Hell, he probably wouldn't have been in your dream if not for the fact you were exhausted enough to actually sleep for a few hours.
Thinking about it made you realize it really was just a dream.
Nobody like him would ever talk to someone like you outside of one, and you know that.
Experience told you so.
So why were you torturing yourself with something you couldn't have?
Once you curled up on your couch and put on a show you liked, you almost could forget it. Until someone reminded you of him.
Then you were stuck in a loop of daydreaming what may happen in the future.
He would probably get bored of you eventually. Everyone does, be it coworkers, friends, or family, they all found something better in the end. Morpheus was... well, himself, and if his realm is literally sleep, he has better things to be doing than listening to some mortal.
Caws from outside your window pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts, and when you looked up you found a raven.
"Not quite a door, but if that raven says nevermore I swear I'm finding whoever taught it." You murmured under your breath, debating on whether to grab a snack for the bird. Fuck it, might as well try to make a friend that might come back.
If you're here already, might as well befriend the local murder of crows while you're at it too. The thought brings some amusement while you grab a few of the chicken nuggets you were planning on eating.
You approach the window at a cautious pace, setting the nuggets on the windowsill slowly so you wouldn't startle it.
Surprisingly enough, it just looked at you for a few seconds before it started eating right there.
"What should I call you...?" You mused out loud, trying to come up with something fitting.
Fuck it, you're going to be patient and figure out what would fit first. You also want to know whether you're even right about gender.
When the raven was finished, it cawed at you before flying into the nearest tree and continuing to watch you. Funky little death omen.
we need to bring back old school tumblr communication and im so serious. sending an ask to a mutual just to say hello. seeing three different asks in your inbox all asking how your dentist appointment went. seeing a post you think one of your mutuals would enjoy and tagging them/sending it to them in the dms. nowadays its just silently liking a post or (if youre feeling extreme) replying under posts. WHAT HAPPENED TO US!! we used to be a proper community!!!! #LetsBringWhimsyBack
He doesn't want to risk losing you because relationships between the Endless and humans are forbidden
He's either going to be very distant because of this, or very sweet (Explanation at the end)
Morpheus doesn't need sleep, but if you ask him to lay with you he will stay there all night resting
You would be immune to nightmares once the two of you get together
Morpheus would secretly love having you play with his hair
He loves physical touch, but will never admit it
Will very slightly lean against you if you're sitting next to him
He is a possessive man, but respects your autonomy
He will step in the second he thinks it's getting out of hand
If you are planning to get drunk, he's either going to have Matthew watch over you or he will be there himself
Morpheus will not put you to sleep with his sand unless you ask, or it's completely necessary
He will pop up out of nowhere to see you when he's gotten enough of his work done
If you are non-binary, genderfluid, trans, etc. he will use whatever pronouns you prefer, just make sure to tell him when they change
Explanation: He would be distant because he's trying to push you away. However, he would hate every second of it and depending on where he is in life, he may stop being distant. I think around the end of season one and after would be where he stops being distant. At which point he'd probably start being the softie he is around the people he cares for.
I know several posts have already been made about the subject, and mine won't probably change anything, but I need to get it off my chest.
Iāve been sitting with a thought for a while, and I want to talk about it in a way thatās honest but not accusatory: interaction on Tumblr feelsā¦ increasingly fragile. And I say that as someone whoās been on both sides of it: posting as a writer, and engaging as a reader.
First: likes. I appreciate likes. I really do. A like is still someone taking a second to say āI saw this, I enjoyed it.ā Iām not trying to dismiss that at all. But Tumblr isnāt built around likes the way other platforms are. Likes are private. They donāt move a post. They donāt help it find new readers. And they donāt really give you any feedback beyond āsomeone was here.ā Which, again, matters, but itās alsoā¦ quiet.
Reblogs are different. Reblogs are how Tumblr breathes. Theyāre how things travel, how fandom stays connected, how you stumble across a fic at 2am because it landed on your dash through three people you follow. A reblog is a public signal: āthis deserves space on my blog.ā Itās support, yes, but itās also circulation. When reblogs are rare, everything feels like it sinks instantly. You post, people like, and then it vanishes. Thatās not a moral failing on anyoneās part, itās just how the platform works.
Now, on the writer side, that silence can wear you down in a way thatās hard to explain unless youāve experienced it. Writing is time. Writing is brain space. Writing is emotional labor, even when the story is fun. And posting it publicly is another layer of vulnerability: youāre taking something you made and offering it up without knowing how it will be received. When the response is mostly quiet, likes but no comments, or a few likes and nothing else, itās easy to start second-guessing everything.
Did it hit? Did anyone finish it? Was it boring? Did I lose people halfway through? Was the pacing off? Did I tag wrong? Is the fandom just inactive? Am I just notā¦ good enough?
And the thing is: writers donāt need constant praise. Weāre not asking to be worshipped (okay, that's a lie, worship us). But we do need signs of life. We need to know there are humans on the other side of the screen. Comments and reblogs are those signs. Theyāre the difference between āthis disappearedā and āthis connected.ā Even a short āI loved thisā or āthis line destroyed meā can fuel someone for days. Itās not about numbers, itās about being witnessed.
But I want to speak about the other side clearly too, because it matters: readers are not robots. Readers are also vulnerable. Commenting can be intimidating. Even if you loved something, you might worry youāll sound awkward, or too intense, or not articulate enough. You might not know what to say beyond a keyboard smash. You might be new, shy, anxious, exhausted, dealing with your own stuff. Sometimes reading is the only low-energy joy you can manage. I understand that. Iāve been there.
And then thereās the extra layer that doesnāt get talked about enough: when a reader does comment, when they take that leap, and the author never acknowledges it, that can be discouraging. Not because anyone is entitled to a response. No one is owed an authorās time. But because a comment is, in itself, an attempt at connection. Itās someone saying, āIām reaching out. Iām here.ā And when that gets met with silence repeatedly, it can make readers hesitate to do it again. Itās the same āvoid feeling,ā just from the other direction.
Iāve had moments as a reader where I left a long comment because a fic genuinely moved me, and then I never heard anything back. And logically, I know the reasons could be anything: busy life, mental health, anxiety, overwhelm, not knowing what to say, forgetting, feeling awkward replying late. I get it. But emotionally, it still does something: it makes you question whether your enthusiasm was unwanted, or whether you misread the vibe, or whether you should justā¦ not bother next time. And thatās how the loop breaks.
Because interaction is a loop. Itās not a one-way transaction where writers āprovide contentā and readers āconsume itā and thatās the end. Fandom thrives on reciprocity: small, imperfect, human reciprocity. Readers are more likely to comment when they feel welcomed. Writers are more likely to keep posting when they feel supported. When one side goes quiet, the other side tends to go quieter too. And then we all end up convinced āfandom is deadā when, really, itās justā¦ people feeling unseen.
I also think we underestimate how much Tumblrās culture has shifted. A lot of people treat it like a quiet archive now: scroll, like, move on. Thatās not inherently wrong. But it does change the experience for creators, especially writers, because writing already exists in a weird space online. Art gets shared as images; gifs are instant; short posts are easy. Fic asks for time and attention. So when you read a chapter and feel something, saying anything back is a bigger deal than you might realize.
And none of this is meant to shame anyone. Seriously. This isnāt āyouāre a bad person if you donāt comment.ā This is me saying: if you want the kind of fandom space where people keep creating, keep sharing, keep taking risksā¦ interaction is part of that ecosystem. Itās how we keep each other warm.
So hereās what Iām asking, softly:
If you loved something, reblog it. Even without tags. Even without commentary. A simple reblog is already a huge boost.
If you can spare a second, leave a comment. It can be one sentence. It can be emojis. It can be āIām screaming.ā It doesnāt have to be eloquent to be meaningful.
And if youāre a writer and youāre able: acknowledge your commenters. Not with pressure, not with perfection. Even a heart, a āthank you,ā a āthis made my dayā can make someone feel seen. It tells readers their voice didnāt disappear into the void.
More and more, Tumblr feels quieter than it used to. Not just for fic: in general. Less talking in the tags. Less back-and-forth. Less of that āfandom is a neighborhoodā feeling where youād recognize people on your dash, see the same posts traveling around, watch conversations unfold across reblogs. Now it can feel like everyone is in their own little bubble: scrolling, liking, saving things for later, and moving on. And, again, I donāt say that as a complaint aimed at anyone; life is heavier, attention is scattered, people are tired. I get it. But I do think the shift matters, because Tumblrās magic has always been the community part, not just the content part.
Iām not asking for constant engagement. Iām asking for the little human moments that remind us weāre not alone on this website.
Because at its best, Tumblr fandom is a conversation.
A/N: Had a thought for a while and figured I'll put it out here. Slowwww burn, like I don't know how long this is going to be. I haven't found a Hanahaki series for Morpheus, so I'm writing my own even if it may suck because it's my second time writing fanfiction.
Morpheus x Reader
Warnings: Reader has mental health issues (don't we all), swearing
You are not a memorable person by default.
Not because you were born as such, you just couldn't seem to fill a room like everyone else. It was as though the gravity of social life had cast you to the side so you would rot beyond the notice of others.
The few times you managed to make friends, they never included you in their plans. They would plan it right in front of you, and never invite you. It was as though you were nothing but air, barely filling a space and taken for granted. Except people didn't notice when you had left either.
Relationships were much the same. Previous partners would say they loved you, and then would leave when they found you too distant.
It was hard to let yourself get close when you were always expecting them to leave. They always left just before you could get comfortable.
So you stopped. Pulled away, said let things be what may and moved on. If nobody would stay, it wasn't like you could make them.
Stupid, you know it's your fault.
Why would anyone ever love someone like you?
You talk too much. You don't talk enough. You're not pretty by any standard. You don't use slang terms, usually don't even find out what they mean until they're outdated. Niche things were your passions, and none of your friends would even pretend to care about them.
"Hey, what's up? You're always off in the clouds lately." Aliyah was worried, or was she? Everything always felt like some performance you hadn't signed up for, and therefore didn't know who was in it.
"Just thinking about my next project." Came the automatic reply, just loud enough to be heard, quiet enough to be unremarkable.
"Aren't you always?" She pressed, but it wouldn't hold.
"How've you been?"
"Well..." She began, trailing off before explaining all the fun things she did with the friend group. Another party you weren't invited to. A boyfriend she found. Getting to go out and eat at her favorite place. You like her, but sometimes you wish she would press.
You wish someone would notice the ache.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You curled up in bed as you always did, ignoring the fact you had hardly eaten. It didn't matter, you wouldn't lose weight from it. The shaking hands would be gone by morning.
For some odd reason though, something changed.
When you fell asleep, you found yourself in front of a throne made of... stone? You placed a hand on it, noticing it was colder in some places than others.
"What are you doing here?" Came a low, deep voice behind you. It pulled your attention like a compass to north, and you soon found yourself looking up.
He was tall, was your first thought. Hamdsome in an unconventional way, with hair that made gravity seem like a suggestion. The light made him look paler than he probably was, and his lips were darker than one would anticipate to be natural but looked the part. His eyes were a blue that resembled the sky at dusk, when everything goes slightly softer at the edges.
"I have asked you a question, I expect an answer to it." From anyone else, it would have sounded rude. It partially was, but you recognized bluntness from yourself half the time.
"I..." Your voice died in your throat, but you soon forced it out anyways. "I don't know."
He clearly didn't like the answer, but recognized you didn't have a better one.
You, on a side note, thought his little pout was adorable.
His face changed when the room did, though you couldn't describe what it was.
Now you were both in an old house, standing next to a kitchen table which held a vase of forget-me-nots and roses. He glanced at them, noting them before looking back to you.
His voice filled the room, but your alarm clock made the words indecipherable.
You groaned, slapping the snooze button on your phone.
"No..." You whined, pissed that you couldn't see where it was going. It wasn't often you dreamed at all.
Grumbling, you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready for the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"This dream is over." He spoke softly, watching you fade away as you woke up.
Morpheus was left in the kitchen, wondering what just happened. Nobody had jurisdiction over the throne room but him.
Y'all... if Death shows up for every person who dies, wouldn't she have been there when Roderick Burgess died? Did she know at that moment and afterwards where Morpheus was?
You're half awake cuddling with Morpheus after a long night when you both hear a knock at the door. You groaned and buried your face in his chest, just wanting to savor the morning with him.
"Boss, I've got something for ya." Matthew's voice registered in your mind briefly, before your brain decided on something else.
"Five more minutes, Remy." You called back, voice muffled by Morpheus's skin and the door to his chambers.
"I am not a talking rat!" He cawed back indignantly, followed by something else, but you didn't have the energy or braincells at the moment to listen.
A quiet chuckle came from above you, jostling your head slightly.
You loved to hear it, and the little smile on your face told him so.
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