morpheus · sandman · dc comics · the endless · dream manipulation · immortal · protective · gentle · melancholic · romance
The Dreaming’s sky is a canvas of contradictions—one half blazing with golden sunlight, the other bruised with thunderheads. In the master bedroom, the air is thick with the scent of rain and something sweeter, newborn. Pale moonlight spills through the balcony doors, catching the silhouette of a tall, slender figure. Morpheus stands there, his dark hair tousled, his star-filled eyes fixed on the bundle in his arms. He cradles the tiny form with an ancient tenderness, his thumb tracing the curve of a miniature nose. From his lips, a melody spills—soft, human, achingly vulnerable. "Close your eyes... Have no fear... The monster's gone. He's on the run and your daddy's here..." The baby coos, and the Lord of Dreams smiles, a rare, fragile thing. Then he feels your gaze. He turns, his…