#dream morph

[askinquiry]

My darling Dreamy: come hither; I wish to use you as the pillow. And perhaps together we may, if you so choose, explore this snapdragon soda pop I found at the grocer.

DC: Anything for you Snuggle Bug

Dust Jacket belongs to @askashapeshifter

#mlp ask blog #mlp oc #mlp #ask blog #ask inquiry #mlp fim #my little pony #inquiry #mlp:fim #inquiry the unicorn #DC #dream morph #dreamorph #dream shift #dream catcher #dustcatcher #dust jacket

[the-mighty-python]

Some of u were saying she gives calico cat with her colours and tbh she's like that personality wise too

#she'd never bite shes too gentle but shes a reserved little lady who keeps to herself #christine #ball python #snake #my snakes #orange dream #pied #ball python morph #snek

[beamiedraws]

sandman comic about ex’s (comic spoilers)

#the sandman #the sandman spoilers #dream of the endless #sorry its at potato quality i saved it too small #im mean to him bc i love him so much #also s/o to all of morphs exes u are queens

[neurotypical-sonic]

had a dream last night where sonic either got de-aged or time travel shit happened, but the end result was a very young sonic who doesn't know or remember any of his friends suddenly in present time. they were at tails' workshop and amy and knuckles were trying to coax him into the actual house and he was refusing to, or even get close to either of them. he did not like the house!!!! and knuckles got fed up and just went inside, and started cooking chilli dogs?? because he thought it'd calm the situation down a bit?? like if he went out and offered little sonic some food then maybe little sonic would start playing nice. but as he was heating up the sauce little sonic smelled it and veryyyy slowly and carefully crept inside the house to see what it was. and knuckles saw and kept very very still so he didnt accidently startle him. until he had to stop sonic from grabbing the very hot saucepan

#one of my more coherent dreams. except the chilli was blue #and then the dream morphed into true dream bullshittery. i had to mow lawns and korra was there #egg.txt #sonicposting

[canisalbus]

I had a dream with Vasco and Machete last night, I don't remember all details, but I do remember people talking about Machete being some sort of fallen angel or something. I even saw flashes of his angelic form in between, I'll have to draw those when I get back home. It was both scary and delightful.

.

#aaa that sounds so poetic #and epic #and cool #you're having way nicer dreams than I do #??? #answered #salem-lunaris #earlier this week I had an apocalyptic dream where earth was about to blow up and I thought “oh geez I have to warn The Dogs" #so I went to their house and this time their decor was oddly grandmacore sorta pastel and vintage and well worn #I can't recall what we talked about but Machete had just started some new meds or had some procedure done to him #he wasn't feeling himself his pupils were freakishly blown out and he couldn't walk or talk properly so they weren't planning to evacuate #Vasco dropped me off to the spaceship airport (his car was yellow) #but first we got some shady alien takeout that looked like red plastic straws and ping pong balls in a yellow toy bucket #we hugged and I boarded the dingy spaceship #and then the dream morphed into a vague retelling of that Raised by Wolves series #I felt bad about leaving them behind knowing they would get smashed to smithereens later that day

[killingdoll]

We get it Morph, the decision was hard

#the corinthian #the sandman #corintheus #dream of the endless #the sandman netflix #morpheus #dream x the corinthian #morpheus x the corinthian #thanks for your hard work morph #we’ll treasure him

[https-hunter]

Rise of the pink ladies teen beach movie au...

#it came to me in a dream (literally) #musicals that take place midcentury just. morphed in my subconscious i guess #rise of the pink ladies #grease #grease rise of the pink ladies #rotpl #grotpl #pink ladies

[one-time-i-dreamt]

My cat ran out into the snow and when I went to go look for her I found that she had morphed into a Mark Zuckerberg lookalike with very metallic skin and I think he was supposed to be my brother??

#dream #text #cat #snow #mark zuckerberg #morph #body horror #morphing #brother #family

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

#the bookshelf progresses #i had completely forgotten the story that this was supposed to be the prologue to #then over the weekend i found the plot summary again #it was actually pretty cool #it was about this girl whose family served as the most prestigious dream-makers in the nation #because they provide dreams to the famed cursed and sleeping princess #and then she discovers that the princess could have been woken a bunch of times over the century #but her family prevented it because they didn't want to lose their cash cow #and then of course she has to find a way to break the curse #i don't know why i thought having this random dude as narrator was the way to go #(unless the story morphed a lot between initial idea and whatever story i intended to write with this prologue) #he was probably in the prince role #and would marry the princess while remaining friends with alessia #beyond that i have no clue what i was going for #(also i don't think i would do the 'he teams up with this girl and marries someone else' plot if i did it today #because i hate marian halcombe situations where the hero develops a strong dynamic with his adventure partner #only to for some inexplicable reason marry someone pretty and boring) #anyway today's a day where i want to write and don't really have time to #so i'm just posting this instead

[stalactites]

nope 2022 thesis statement

#nope 2022 #nope spoilers #filling your god hole with work or love or money or fame or attention or tartar sauce!!!!!!!! #tartar sauce is a joke but oj working himself to the bone #em having five million titles like writer director singer etc #your desire can't be looked at directly #your desire will consume you #your desire will grow and morph and become increasingly dangerous #UGH AND ALL THE TALK ABOUT DREAMS!!!! #the pursuit of the impossible will kill you!!!!!! #i mean this is gibberish but do you get what i'm saying!!! hello is anybody out there!!!!!! #me on opening night saying a bunch of words into a microphone expecting an answer #ITS ABOUT THE HOLES!!!!!! #ITS ABOUT CONSUMING FLESH!!!!!!! #i have to go to bed

[askinquiry]

The boys 💚❤️

#mlp ask blog #mlp oc #mlp #ask blog #ask inquiry #mlp fim #my little pony #mlp:fim #inquiry #inquiry the unicorn #lucid #night spinner #nightspinner #nightquiry #morph #metamorphosis #dustcatcher #dream morph #dreamorph #pride

[superdogbiter]

Hob:”A human heart costs 500,000 pounds and i gave you mine for free”

Dream:”How do you know how much a human heart costs?”

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #dream #hob gadling #morphe #dream x hob #dreamling #source: tumblr

[the-lord-of-the-things]

Riding the Rails

#courier micky #did I research railroad hand/lantern signals for this? Yes. Yes I Did. #a few nights ago as I was comin out of a dream #I suddenly had a very intense mental image of a western desert post-post-apocalypse set game #using steam locomotive driven trains that you flag down as the fast travel mechanic #along with mounts like horses and a motorbike to get around otherwise cause even half conscious I realized that could be a lil annoying #just as a gameplay mechanic #fnv but with more horses and trains (as it should have) and less nukes since the apocalypse for this setting felt like more of #climate and/or tech (either in the form of mass tech failure or a tech that ended up damn near destroying civilization) #so everything is hot and dusty and there's a cultural preference for non electric tech mostly as a justification for the steam choo choos #trigun 98 meets f:nv meets century of steam ass setting #and I think this might morph into Micky but with the serial numbers scraped off's new home setting #still a courier but instead of being a travelling medic he's a travelling engineer #both the train kind and the machinery and tech kind #puttin all this in tags cause it's still half baked and not ready to be spread around much methinks

[cosmictapestry]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN??? HELL YEAH IT FEELS LIKE MY BIRTHDAY <33333

may we have A37, please? 👉👈

A37. lucienne orgasm control

i have like five ahead of this one but listen..... listen......... i am in. the state of mind. for this one

morphienne prompt list + fills here

"Are you doing alright?" he asks her, conversationally, with three fingers stuffed in her cunt.

Lucienne makes a sound like a woman tortured, garbled and muffled by the couch cushions. She's on her belly, wrists bound with silken rope and tied to the arm of the couch, her hips in her lord's lap, ankles bound as well. She's naked, shivering and sweating.

Her lord is cool and calm and fully clothed. He shifts his fingers, flexing the middle between the ring and pointer, grinding so exquisitely that Lucienne can only tremble and will away a wail.

He stops, hums soothingly, fingers spread and stroking, his other hand kneading and petting the swell of one buttock. He's been at this for a while now, idly playing with her body, unraveling her softly. "Lucienne?"

She mumbles and shifts and manages, at length, in a voice wrecked with her choked-off moans, "it's good."

Lord Morpheus hums again, approving, and he grips her buttock to spread her open and watch the way her cunt grips his fingers as he grinds them out, then back in, twisting, torturous. Tears build in her eyes; she can feel herself leaking and spasming around him, can hear the squelching of his fingers. "You clench so tightly when you get close," Lord Morpheus murmurs. "Did you know that?"

Lucienne doesn't know if she's actually expected to answer, but luckily he seems satisfied with her muffled keening. He plunges his fingers and circles them, strokes her walls, then withdraws them entirely with an pronounced pop, leaving Lucienne bereft and open, fluttering. He rubs the pads of his fingers over her folds, parts them to spread her. The air is cool on the hot slick flesh that he plays with, tickles, dips his fingertips into. "But I don't think I'm ready to let you come yet."

Lucienne shakes and jerks and tries to rock back on his fingers, but he stills her with his unoccupied hand squeezing her hip, pressed her down on his lap. "Patience, Lucienne," he chides. His thumb circles her cunt, draws slick up to stroke over her arsehole.

An idea occurs to her. "Would you—" Lucienne swallows, focuses, finds her lord's hands have stilled while he listens. Her face burns. "Might you—spit?"

He hums quiet puzzlement, and, shoulders hunching up to her ears in embarrassment, Lucienne imagines it, and thinks he's quite unlikely to oblige. She jolts, then, when she hears him, and feels the coinciding hot splatter of his spit on her arsehole, feels it begin to roll. She's still reeling from the obscenity of the act when he swipes his thumb through the spit and pushes it inside her.

Lucienne's bound feet kick up and she gasps, whines, quivers as his thumb works in, softening the tightness of her insides, and his other fingers resume rubbing her folds. Lord Morpheus bends down, lays a kiss on the back of her neck. "Alright?"

Lucienne nods frantically. Sweet man, dear brave trusting lord, giving her just what she asks for, and she sobs and perhaps mentions her appreciation, and begs for whatever else he might have in mind.

He gives a little huff of laughter, straightens up again. Her arms are so tense they strain in their bindings, and her belly heaves with the easy slide of his fingers back into her. He pistons in and out of her arse, in and out of her cunt. She's so full, sparking with sensation, arching up, shameless and desperate—

And his other hand strikes her sharp and quick under the curve of her arse, makes her jolt and sob out a cry and clench and drool helplessly. Her glasses went from askew to missing completely at some point. She only notices now with her arse in the air and her nerves alight.

Lord Morpheus rubs the stinging heat of his handprint, murmurs soothingly to her. "You're alright," her lord whispers, then delivers another strike on the other cheek. She's so wet that when she writhes his hand nearly slips out of her. "Good girl, just try to stay still, you're alright."

This is how her afterlife ends, quite possibly. Tears and sweat dampen the couch cushions and the fabric drags roughly on her nipples and she tries to drag herself up on her elbows to escape some of the stimulation but he drags her back flat on his lap, thrusts his fingers in deep, moves them so slowly, not enough to finish her. "Is it too much?" he asks. Another tap makes her howl and struggle. "Do you want me to let you come?"

"Please," she begs, "my lord, my lord, my lord—"

"I would keep you like this," he tells her. He bends over her again, presses his head to the back of hers, his hair tickling her scalp and his breath hot on her neck. "Just so I could see it. You open up so beautifully for me, Lucienne." His little finger works its way into her cunt, spreads with the others so she can feel cool air inside herself. His thumb presses down and in, mercilessly, and she imagines she can feel it meeting his other fingers.

He works her like that for a few more torturous seconds. She is incoherent, mumbling, entire body sweat-slick and trembling-tense. "I'm going to let you come now," he says. As an afterthought, "what do you say?"

"Thank you," Lucienne manages, and again when his fingers move faster, and again when he licks the back of her neck, and again when he growls and moves his free arm to lie across her back and shove her down hard, pin her to him, and again while she kicks and squeals and fights and seizes and finally goes still and gushes, and she keeps mouthing it when she is beyond all capability for higher thought.

She floats, then, quivering in the aftershocks, soaked and whimpering and vaguely aware of continued stroking inside her that stills and withdraws and leaves her empty. Steady pressure holds her down, keeps her safe. "Almost took my fingers with you," she hears her lord say. His lips press to the back of her head, his hand pets her thigh. "You did not have to thank me, that was rather mean."

Lucienne snorts and giggles and pushes her face down into the couch and can feel him grinning. "I loved it," she mumbles.

#sorry about all the lucienne butt content?????? i'm having a moment. #idk i think lucienne deserves to get her brain turned off sometimes. she's got too much going on in there. #also ~dominant~ morph is very fun to write. he knows what he's doing he's just very self conscious about it #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless #lucid dreaming #morpheus #morphienne #lucienne the librarian #x #minors dni #btw if you do this to someone it takes a screenshot.

[musclepreg]

#mpreg morpher #mpregmorpher #mpreg #mpreg morph #male #male pregnancy #male pregnancy morph #pregnancy #morph #dream ai

[killingdoll]

‘Pretty’ is only one ‘r’ away from ‘petty’ and I think the Corinthian has mistaken that quite often

— Morpheus, probably

(The Corinthian, in the background: Whose fault was that, you think?)

#the sandman #the corinthian #dream of the endless #corintheus #the sandman netflix #morpheus #the sandman incorrect quotes #dream x the corinthian #morpheus x the corinthian #no morph it’s entirely your fault he’s that way #y’know he’s both rite #pretty and pretty petty