✧ selective multi-muse // multi-fandom ✧ ✧ writer - wren ✧ ✧ pronouns - they/them ✧ ✧ age - 26 ✧ (( previously @/menageriie - in process of reorganizing ))

(( currently i am snuggled up on my couch watching the sandman episode 6 watchparty with some of the cast and neil, and per usual i am so emotional about dream. magneto is another character i am extremely passionate about, and i have realized just how much he and dream have in common, at their core. so i might sound delusional, but i will try and explain and list my reasons here. read if you like, but i HAD to get these ideas written out, and out of my head. ))

it was a, for lack of better terms, unique experience — being unmade.

and while he didn’t have much to say in favor of non-existence, being remade was arguably the better way to go. the last memory he had was of dream’s face, swirling sand, and the all too familiar feeling of being dismantled — ripped apart atom by atom.

then nothingness.

and nothingness, bled into feeling.

sensation.

as particles shifted and gathered, solidified into human(ish) form - he could feel the ground beneath his feet once more. a cool breeze ruffled blonde locks. there was a presence nearby, he could sense. morpheus.

the corinthian finally opened his eyes - and immediately noticed something was off. this wasn’t like last time, he felt different.

the dreaming looked different.

one hand moved to examine his face, pausing in utter bewilderment at the absence of two additional sets of teeth within his countenance.

letting out a slight chuckle, the corinthian shook his head in disbelief.

he took a few hesitant breaths before opening his mouth to speak as well. ( though unneeded, it was nice to know everything appeared to be functioning like normal. )

“ — you’ve taken some creative liberties, i see. ”

he turned to face dream now, taking in the other man’s oddly pleasant demeanor with a puzzled tilt of the head. their last interaction had been nothing short of a disaster, and now, here he was, rebuilding the corinthian, welcoming him like an old friend.

a sudden rush of anger and suspicion immediately squashed any last feelings of bewilderment.

“ what did you do… what exactly— ” he paused, pointing a finger at the dream lord. “ wh- what’s your angle here— ? ” he finally stuttered out a response, his normally articulate self finding it hard to choose the right words in this moment.

creative liberties. that almost drew a chuckle from him. dream kept his composure as the newly formed dream took everything in, only acting again once the corinthian jutted an accusatory finger in his direction.

“i do not have an angle. i promise you that. please, take a moment to center yourself. we have time to talk, for me to answer any questions you may have.” he kept his hands at his sides but took a tentative step forward— testing the waters, expression calm and curious.

“you are different. it is no surprise that you feel it, and i am sure it must be strange.” dream continued, slow and steady. “not only have you changed physically, but you have been granted a new purpose— new meaning. one that i sincerely hope you find fulfilling. you are, for lack of better words, the first of your kind.”

so far, morpheus was pleased with how this was going. he was learning to listen, to let the moment develop, to let the ones around him be what they are. to feel something, instead of holding the world around him in a chokehold so that he could escape with his vulnerability still hidden away. 

in a small corner of the dreaming, soft shadows from the slow moving leaves danced across the plains of fiddler’s green. just as they did everyday, day after day. endlessly. peacefully. this was a realm where anything was possible, and one of its many wonders was an always trustworthy friend. there for you when you needed it. comforting and welcoming, warm and serene. gilbert, as he called himself in the waking world– revealed by the former dream vortex rose walker. even beautiful views and clear waters can contain multitudes in the world of dreams. like has been said– anything was possible.

gentle footsteps entered the field at the edge of the dream, muffled slightly by the sweeping tail of a black coat moving in the breeze. the dream lord took care when moving about his kingdom, but especially here. dreams like this were as close to sacred as he would ever be able to make. morpheus dared not disturb or scar that which he created, for it was just as much his job to watch and protect them as it was to keep the order. he would be much more careful now, after lessons learned over the past century. he would watch, he would protect, and he would keep the order– but no longer would he do it to the detriment of those he was meant to look after, mortal or not. he needed to do better, to be better. this was his new beginning, one that he wasn’t quite sure he deserved.

once he reached the tree line the shadows flittered across his features, turning his pale skin to ashy white– like porcelain not touched in lost years, dust gathering as it remained there forgotten and unneeded. in the fleeting moments away from the light, his blue eyes turned black and glittered with the cosmos as they stayed glued to the ground with each step. in his hand, enclosed by a fist, dream of the endless held the entire potential of a new entity– a nightmare that once escaped his grasp, and a mistake he was eager to correct. though alone when he entered, dream was determined to leave fiddler’s green with a new creation by his side. something he had done more times than any could fathom– and yet today he found himself uneasy. nervous. for this was not just any nightmare. this was the corinthian. and there was no room for failure this time around.

dream stopped once he reached the water and the silence surrounded him. slowly he adjusted to the sounds of the forest– the wind rustling through the trees, the water finding its way around the rocks it traveled over, songbirds calling to one another. it was a kind of silence and peace that dream heard too little of. what was the human expression? it was important to stop and smell the roses? he noted that there were no roses here in fiddler’s green, but perhaps that wasn’t the point. dream thought he understood humans but he had been shown that he had much to learn. and much to learn about himself, as well.

after a few moments of reflection he held out his closed fist in front of him, then unclasped his fingers. revealed beneath them was a small skull, balanced on the center of his palm, looking back at him with eyes permanently frozen in a scowl. it was the only thing left after taking apart the corinthian– an unexpected souvenir, curious and strange and unique. morpheus had set it aside, kept safe by lucienne until he was ready to face his failure again. 

“i am sorry for keeping you waiting.” dream spoke in almost a whisper, head tilting slightly as he spoke to the relic in his hand. “but i did not want to bring you back until my intentions were clear. you were a failure, but the fault was my own. and you.. you deserve better than that. we have all changed.” the words briefly caught in his throat, but he continued. “i regret that i did not change sooner. for your sake. and for humanity’s.”

there was a moment of pause, and then dream set the corinthian’s reincarnation into motion. the skull lifted from his palm and a cloud of gold began to form and swirl around it, glittering in the sun like sand and metal, cut through with smoke. the new dream formed from the ground up, and morpheus took a step back as the new corinthian appeared before him.

the entity remained motionless, eyes closed and body still, as dream looked him over. so familiar, yet so new. the beginning of a smile pulled at one corner of dream’s lips, happy with his work.

eddie’s answer is perplexing, if not totally expected.

the other boy was never an open book when it came to sharing his emotions, a process stan was all too familiar with. but he doesn’t pry. what kind of a friend would he be if he did? — eddie will tell him in due time. and if he doesn’t? so be it.

the most stanley can do for him in this moment is be here. another calming presence, dedicated to reducing the stressors in eddie’s life, not contributing to them.

he sits up finally, after a few short moments of introspection regarding his friend’s dilemma. the blanket they’ve been laying on is wrinkled, and stan absentmindedly straightens out the fabric, still unsure of what to say in response. the clouds continue to drift ahead, the richie-cloud slowly moving out of view. he turns to eddie, but not before plucking a clover from the grass beside him and offering it to his friend in apology.

‘ okay. that’s fine, ’ is all he eventually manages to spit out, and stan hopes that his tone is nonchalant enough to come across as understanding and not cold and aloof.

eddie’s eyes glance to the small flower being offered to him, even though he doesn’t turn his head at first. he takes half a second to think about it, and then one of his hands moves to take it. as he does, he sits up.

there’s a hint of a smile as he slowly turns the little clover over in his fingers, choosing to focus on it instead of looking at stan. he also notices how the blanket is almost wrinkle-free over next to stan after his friend straightened it out, and how it was completely bunched together next to him. eddie hastily takes his free hand and squashes the wrinkles, trying to get it to match. he doesn’t do a very good job.

“you ever— you ever think about what it’s going to be like when we grow up?” eddie goes back to staring at the round flower in his hand. he has his arm resting atop one of his knees, while the other helps him stay propped upright. “like, will we all still be friends? or uhm, i don’t know. do you think we’ll still like each other after high school? do our parents still have friends from when they were our age? i can’t remember if my mom has ever said anything about old friends before.”