#I love my Sandfam | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year

Text

Autumn (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @thisgameissonintendo

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Pure fluff. Friends to more-than-friends. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together.

Warnings: Physical intimacy, kissing.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Happy First Day of Autumn Sandfam! Hope you enjoy this one, would love to hear what you think, and also to know which season is your favourite and why. All my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

--------------------------------------

"Can I open my eyes yet?" You stifle a giggle with the back of your hand, feeling very much like a person awaiting a surprise on their birthday.

"So impatient," Morpheus replies with a teasing lilt to his liquid velvet voice that sets your laughter free.

"Is that a yes?"

"I am simply adding some final touches."

Ever the perfectionist, you think with a grin.

You inhale deeply, making use of one of the only other senses you could use in this situation. The air is crisp, fresh, with an earthy undertone; you are definitely outside, but where, you have no other clues to help guess.

Morpheus had certainly not given anything away when he had found you sketching in the Dreaming's orchard, charcoal in one hand, half-eaten apple in the other. He had simply told you there was something he wanted to show you.

Curiosity mounting, you had eagerly taken your friend's outstretched hand and promised to not look until he gave the word.

Finally, there is movement in the air beside you. Morpheus' fingers ghost your upper arm to signify his proximity.

"You may open your eyes now," he speaks quietly yet authoritatively by your ear.

You look, blinking to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the swaying branches of numerous trees, before taking the view in properly.

You notice the colours first, their vivacity and variety:

Umber, sienna, scarlet, amber, saffron. All under a pale blue, wispy cloud sky.

Leaves are falling thick and fast. They swirl and undulate in the soft breeze, coming to rest on an already leaf-smothered ground.

Little collections of chestnut coloured mushrooms are dotted next to the tree line. Droplets of dew have gathered on their caps, lending a gorgeous sheen to their already lovely appearance.

Everything you saw was a showcase of autumn.

"You remembered," you say breathlessly, referring to a conversation that had taken place a few weeks ago where you had professed your love for the season and all it entailed.

You look to Morpheus with a sunbeam smile, asking for permission to explore. He nods, extending his arm, communicating that it was all yours.

Your steps into the leafy clearing are gleeful and bouncy, creating satisfying rustling and crunching noises as you go towards the well-established trees. Melodic birdsong echoes from the canopy above you. Swathes of moss begin where the layers of leaves end. You carefully hop onto it and enjoy the way your shoes sink a little into the plush, verdant carpet.

Fingertips trail over the greyish, dappled trunk of a sycamore tree before you move to the tactile, deeply ridged bark of an ash.

You slip your arms around the second tree, close your eyes and give it a big hug.

Everything feels right in this moment.

You open your eyes to see Morpheus watching you from several paces away. There is a twinkle in his deep blue eyes; clearly he finds your display amusing.

The rich autumn colours contrast beautifully against his monochrome attire. None of the falling leaves come close to his person, reminding you that even now, even when he looks to be still, there are a multitude of responsibilities ticking away inside his mind, including the control of the objects within this tranquil dreamscape.

A dreamscape that he wanted to share with you.

It is times like these that you are confronted by the truth of just how special your friendship with Morpheus is. There are fleeting moments where you wish it could be more but for now you are simply an Endless and a mortal who find solace in each other's company.

Pushing yourself away from the tree, you come back into the clearing and find a spot among the leaves to sit. Morpheus joins you after you pat the ground and call his name.

No words are exchanged for a while. You simply pick through the surrounding leaves to find the most vibrant example. A scarlet one, fallen from an aspen is what you settle on. You tuck it in your coat pocket and meet Morpheus' wistful gaze.

"Thank you, I really needed this."

He nods formally. "When you said that you found yourself missing the autumn splendours of the Waking World, I decided to make a version for you to visit at your leisure."

You are taken aback. "You made all this for me?"

"Yes," his tone starts off measured as ever but gives way to something you have never heard before. "Does it have your approval?"

The sudden insecurity is impossibly endearing. You reach sideways to touch the back of his hand.

"Approval? Morpheus, it's - well, somewhere I could only dream of."

He bows his head. "It pleases me to hear that."

"I hope it didn't take up too much of your time to make it all, I know how stretched you can get."

"I cannot deny, it has occupied me a little more than the construction of other recent dreams, however, I believe it necessary to put time and effort into making gifts for those whose pleasure and happiness you find important. You deserve to feel those things, Y/N, and being able to contribute to them in some way brings me pleasure of my own."

You don't know if it the fiery colours around you heightening your reactions but hearing Morpheus talk about pleasure is doing something to you.

It is fuel to the embers that had been smouldering within your body for a couple of months now.

It makes you feel delirious. You find your attention languidly drifting between his eyes and his lips.

Blue to pink, pink to blue.

Then he mirrors your action and it all becomes too much.

"I really want to kiss you right now," you admit, the words rushing out without proper consideration.

"Very well," he answers instantly, not allowing you even a fraction of a second to regret your sudden divulgence.

Doubling down on this approach, he turns his body to face yours and gently cups your face in his long-fingered hands.

He's staring at you so intently, his thumbs run back and forth over your cheekbones, the unwavering attention and sensation causing you to shiver and sigh.

He moves closer and his pupils blow out from anticipation.

Morpheus' perfect lips are now mere centimetres from yours. Fluttery nerves fill your insides. You are so overwhelmed that this is actually happening.

You close the gap, testing the waters with a kiss that is soft and tentative. Morpheus is instantly hooked, initiating a second one that allows you to discover just how skilled he is.

Your hands move up to tangle in Morpheus' unruly hair. At present, you cannot remember how long have you been longing to do this but you are not disappointed by how silken it feels under your palms.

The kiss between you becomes intense, his tongue joining the dance with a bone melting deftness, and soon you want to feel more of his body against yours.

You go to lay back on the bed of leaves.

He pulls away, concern etched in his brows, forehead and eyes that questions if he has gone too quickly.

You smile softly to assure him that all is well.

"Come here." You draw him backwards with you, allowing him to straddle you. During the manoeuvre, his coat falls open enough for you to see the galaxies swirling within the lining.

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you once more, starting at your lips and moving to your neck when he senses that you need to breathe.

The touches of his mouth, the feeling of his body covering yours protectively, the weight of his hips aligned with your own; it has you moaning appreciatively.

He withdraws but remains close, astute eyes drinking in every detail and emotion on your smiling face, the halo-like glow shimmering on your hair.

"So beautiful," Morpheus murmurs reverently.

"Your dreams always are," you say, looking past him at the translucent clouds hovering in the sky above you.

His deep voice rumbles deliciously as he speaks his reply, a false admonishment, "You know that's not what I meant."

He playfully nudges his nose against yours. "This dream pales in comparison to you."

You blush as brightly as the leaf that you had stashed within your pocket. Morpheus traces his fingers over the blossoming redness, marvelling in how the extra heat feels under his touch and how his words were the ones that put it there.

"Kiss me, please," you ask in a whisper.

He arranges his coat to cocoon you against the seasonal chill and then obliges you with a deep and passionate kiss that spreads internal warmth right out to the tips of your fingers and toes.

If your winter continues like this, with Morpheus to hold and bond with, it is shaping up to be infinitely more delightful and cosy than any that have come before.

322 notes · View notes

virgo-dream · 1 year

Text

One of Their Own 🏳️‍🌈✨

dreamling / queer joy / fluff / first kiss / 3,6k words

summary: Hob Gadling invites Dream to a meeting of the uni's queer clubs at the New Inn. Dream learns more about his own gender identity, and that he's very much in love with his best friend.

author’s note: this fic, this pairing and this fandom all mean the world to me, so I thought it was fitting to bring it back for pride month!

I’m incredibly thankful for finding Sandman when I did. Since joining this fandom, I’ve made wonderful friends and became part of a community of bright, kind, loving and loyal queer people that I would not trade for anything. I’ve learned more about my community and about myself, and I wave my ace/agender flag proudly now. This fic was written in a moment in my life where I felt hopeless and alone. Now, things couldn’t be more different. Happy pride sandfam! 🏳️‍🌈✨

read here or on ao3

Dream doesn’t get it at first. He never really did get it, but only attributed it to the need humanity had for labels, for packing things into boxes and saying this goes here and that goes there. Sometimes, it leads to this goes to heaven and you go to hell. It seemed to be a very common one, too. He was beyond that; his name said it all, Dream was endless. Not he nor she, not man nor creature, he was all there was to be and the nothingness beyond it. Gender and sexuality need not apply.

Still, it meant so much to Hob, that he’d have dreams about it. Nightmares too, for nights on end, and even if Dream begged Hob to allow him to take them away, Hob always declined, always braving through them. “If you take them, I’ll forget how much it all means. I’ll forget why I’m still fighting.”

They sat at the New Inn one afternoon, while Hob graded papers and Dream had a cup of chamomile tea, but his eyes couldn’t help but focus on a shiny pin on Hob’s jumper shaped like a flag, the shades of pink, purple and blue a spot of proud colour in Hob’s otherwise earthy colour palette.

“It’s the bisexual pride flag.”

“Hm?” Dream’s eyes darted up to meet Hob’s, tilting his head slightly. He wasn’t sure if he should feel bad for being caught, because he wasn’t sure what he was looking at in the first place.

“The pin. I wear it for my students, but also for myself. The kids feel safer I guess, knowing they have at least one of their own in the faculty. Can’t say it doesn’t make me feel good too.”

Hob has a particular tone to his voice that makes Dream’s heart sing in tune to its melody. It’s a fuller sense of self, maybe more than Dream ever had in regards to his own identity. “…one of their own?”

“Oh, I– Sorry, those are pretty recent.” Hob straightened himself up (ha) on the chair, his lecturing posture taking over. Dream liked when he did that. He liked to hear Hob speak of things he had deep knowledge of and passion for. “This one was created in 1988 by a queer activist called Michael Page. Had the pleasure of being there when it was first unveiled, but clearly it took a long time until I was able to wear something like this out in public and not be decked by some bloody homophobe.”

It was starting to sink in.

“…I’m afraid I was not present for these developments.” Dream saw the look on Hob’s face, like he was ready to apologise. He raised a hand to stop him, waving his concern away. “As far as I can remember, queer was not a form of self identification, but only a way to shun out those outside the established norm.”

“Ah, yes. We reclaimed it, though. Or are reclaiming it. The 80s were crazy. All of them were, for me.” Hob smiled at Dream, at their shared secret and at their years of now reestablished friendship.

“I think you’re lonely.”

Could it have been….? Could he have meant…?

“What does it mean for you, then?” Dream asks in a way he hopes sounds inconspicuous, pointing at the pin. He was hesitant to ask, afraid to be getting it all wrong.

“For me? It means I love whoever I love. Man, woman, either or neither.”

The pride coming from Hob’s words filled Dream with hope, something he had not felt in a long, long time. The look in his face then shifted onto something else, something he didn’t quite understand. “…what about you? That is, if you’re okay with talking about that. I don’t want to overstep. Last thing I want is for you to walk out–”

“I won’t, Hob.” Dream knew Hob had reason for feeling that way. “I don’t believe the terminology you have could define my experience. I have laid with mortals and gods alike, and have worn many faces and names. It is beyond human comprehension.”

Hob seems to take a moment to think about what he’d just heard. Dream feels like he might have thrown too much at his human friend. “…I think I get it. But, and tell me to bugger off I’m wrong, do you prefer to be a particular way? To be with a particular sort of being?”

Dream. Didn’t have an answer.

He never thought of what he preferred. He’d never felt in need of any sort of outside validation, but. That was a lie. He needed it. He just never cared to look for it.

Hob’s smile was what broke him out of the spell of his own self doubt. “It’s okay if you don’t have an answer. It takes people a long time to get it, it took me nearly 600 years! Ah! You know what? I’ve got an idea–” He reached inside his brown messenger bag, pulling out a colourful piece of paper, handing it over to Dream. A pamphlet for a meeting. “We’re having a meeting for the uni’s LGBT clubs here at the Inn. I want this to be a safe space for the kids, and to get them to connect with other folks in the community, share their experiences. It’s tomorrow, and I’d love it if you could make it. I’m sure they would too.”

Dream took the pamphlet in hands, looking at the bright colours and bold fonts, taking in every bit of information Hob was giving him and trying to fill in the gaps of the questions he wouldn’t dare ask. After a moment, he looked up at Hob, allowing himself a small smile. “I shall be in attendance, then.”

—————

Dream stood outside the New Inn, hands tucked safely inside the pockets of his coat jacket. He watched as groups of young adults arrived, greeting each other cheerfully. The hair colours and outfits reminded him of his sister, Delirium, but they all seemed to be more in line with her previous self; delighted to be there, happy to meet their friends. A flag danced in the light summer breeze on a pole next to the window, the stripes of colours brightening up the already lively scene. A rainbow, Hob had told him the day before, was the most recognizable symbol of the queer community. It now was accompanied by stripes of light pink and blue, white, black and brown. Dream enjoyed good symbolism, and he could feel the meaning of those colours to all who were present from their daydreams alone.

He, however, still felt like an outsider. Like he wasn't really meant to be there, save for Hob's generous invite. Dream was not defined by the same standards humanity aligned itself with; in fact, he wasn't defined by anything at all. He was not an individual, but the safe arms in which those dreamers rested every night, the common thread in their hopes, in their restful slumber. It would be silly to think that he'd need to identify as one thing or another, really. He was there for Hob . Because Hob invited him. Because he wanted to know more about the everyday life of his dearest friend. Because he wanted to hear him talk, see him inspire others with his tales, wanted to hear the sound of his voice, the gentle way in which he made people feel welcome, cared for, loved, he wanted–

Dream thought it best to wait it out, at least until most people had already arrived, until he had an idea of just how many young, hopeful minds would be in the vicinity. After escaping the Burgess Manor, Dream was faced with a considerable raise in the amount of dreamers under his care. He would not admit it to anyone but himself, but at times, it became too much even for him to bear. The idea of willingly walking into a space with so many people was daunting, to say the least. So he waited, watched as the New Inn became packed with dreamers, feeling his palms dampen inside the pockets of his coat.

Taking the first step towards the door was difficult. Pushing it open was even harder. Dream stepped in, careful not to bump into anyone or to even get too close. The sound of the little bell that was supposed to announce his arrival had no effect, as it was overtaken by the sound of chatter inside the Inn. It was better that way, Dream thought. Not having Hob rush to greet him. That way he could take a moment to adjust to his surroundings, maybe even blend in, become invisible. In hindsight, his usual choice of attire did anything but blend in there. He was a dark little cloud in a sky full of bright colours, like a multi-coloured sunset on a tropical beach. And of course, every sunset had its monarch, shining brightly, commanding the attention. That, of course, was Hob.

"Hello there, kids! Glad to see most of you could make it!" The cheerful, gentle register of Hob's voice filled the room, filtered by the small but potent speaker he'd rented just for the occasion. Dream could hear his voice clearly, and it helped him tune out everything else that wasn't his beloved friend. "This is the first of hopefully many meetings of our beloved Queer Clubs here at my beloved New Inn. I want you all to know this is a safe space for you all no matter what part of the gender and sexuality spectrums you fall on. The only things I won't accept here are discrimination of any kind, and anyone that thinks Lawrence Cheney shouldn't have won season 2 of Drag Race UK. Are we clear on that one?"

Laughter filled the room, and Dream couldn't help but allow his lips a small smile. Hob truly was a marvel. How anyone could shine so brightly was beyond even the dream lord's knowledge, but he was glad to be able to bask in that glow from time to time. He wished he could do it more often.

Hob was saying other things, Dream thought. Instructions on seating arrangements, subjects to be discussed, discounts on food and drinks. All Dream could do was watch as Hob did more than just make everyone feel welcome, but inspired them with hope and joy, a gentle breeze of acceptance, the embrace of a parent, the empathy of an equal. There was much to work with here, much to inspire new dreams. Dreams of comfort and love, of community and pride.

"Dream? You in there, love?"

Hob's voice broke the spell he himself had cast over Dream, who could now see his friend's palm waving in front of his eyes. He'd become lost in thought, it seemed. Dream's nose scrunched up at the interruption, looking at Hob with his usual look of curiosity. There was still much he needed to catch up on when it came to non verbal communication. "Aye. I'm here. Have I not fully manifested my presence?"

Hob chuckled, and his eyes wrinkled at the corners. "Oh, yes. Physically, at least." Dream's brows furrowed in worry, and he was glad Hob was quick enough to notice when something had gone over his head. "Just a joke– hey, I'm glad you could make it. The kids will love meeting you."

"Meeting me? There are far too many people here for you to make introductions. Besides, I know them all, and they all know me. They just do not remember it during waking hours."

This felt like a plausible enough explanation to keep Hob from actually introducing him to everyone in attendance. But Hob was far too optimistic to be dissuaded so easily. "I'm not talking about introducing them to Morpheus. I'd like them to meet my friend, Dream."

"I do not see the difference." He shouldn't say why he couldn't bear the idea of being introduced to so many people. Shouldn't burden Hob with his problems, that wouldn't exist had he just not been captured in the first place. Dream had been good at hiding his discomfort so far, and he'd continue to do so.

…well, maybe he was not so good at it. Not when Hob's eyes so clearly conveyed the worry that had just settled in his heart. It was difficult to deny Hob the truth when his warm, calloused hands took Dream's into his own so carefully, squeezing gently, as if saying you can trust me. I've got you. "It's okay if you'd rather not. I know it can be overwhelming sometimes."

"...thank you." Dream replied with a murmur. Hob gifted him with a smile. It seemed a lot could be said with just the eyes.

————

Even if Dream didn't intend on actually joining in on the conversations being held, he was glad to follow Hob along and listen to the discussions. It was amazing seeing just how bright the kids really were: they spoke of justice and equality, of inclusivity, of respect and love, of family and religion and sex and responsibility. It was a wider range of topics than he'd expected, an awareness of self he didn't think humans would ever possess, and now, he was glad to be proven wrong. He listened to their shared experiences, to the kindness in their eyes as they lifted each other up, the melody of their laughter and the bravery in their voices as they spoke of injustices they'd lived. It was fascinating, really.

What Dream was truly surprised to find was that people had, after all, an understanding of self that went beyond just physical. Hob brought him closer to a group of kids who were in a long discussion on gender identity. Some of them felt comfortable with the gender they'd been "assigned with at birth", others did not feel any affinity for it. Some of them had changed their bodies to fit with how they felt on the inside, and Dream couldn't help but feel enormous empathy for them, for the way they had to fight to exist in a body that didn't feel like a trap. It was something Dream always took for granted, until he himself felt the horror of having no agency over himself. The pain they went through to guarantee they'd have the right to live authentically. Dream's body had never been limited to an exclusive physical manifestation; he was as he felt like. Fluid , as one of the bright colour haired people had pointed out while explaining their own experience. They reminded Dream of his own sibling, Desire. Someone else brought up how they didn't particularly feel like they had a gender, and that the language surrounding it didn't particularly bother them. Agender, the girl said proudly. Dream wondered if there was any right or wrong way to declare oneself fluid or agender. Then he realised the tightness in his chest when the thought occurred to him.

"Are you alright?" Once again, Hob's voice brought him back to the Waking. Dream could now feel Hob's hand on his own again, but he wasn't sure what exactly had warranted it.

"Your hands were shaking."

Once again, Dream's physical form betrayed him. It was also clear how the conversation surrounding them had gone quiet, and more eyes than he would have liked had landed on their linked hands. He didn't like being watched. Like that.

"Oh, Mr. G, is this your boyfriend?" one of them asked, teasingly. "Would have never guessed you had a thing for goths!"

"Marissa, stop!" someone else said, poking the girl on the shoulder apprehensively. The next thing they said was soft as a whisper. "They are clearly not feeling well."

They.

Dream had never considered himself as they. But this person, whoever they were, preferred "not to assume" his gender. And the empathy displayed for his discomfort was something he wasn't expecting either. Hob seemed to be about to say something, but Dream was quicker.

"There is no need to worry for my well-being, but I thank you for your kindness." Dream allowed himself to smile once again. These children were going places, he knew it. "You may address me as he , if necessary. I would not oppose her or them either." It felt liberating to say it, and Dream didn't really know why. He did know, however, that he suddenly felt brave. "I am not Professor Gadlen's boyfriend , but I am honoured to call him my dearest, most cherished friend."

Dream looked at Hob, who seemed to be awestruck by his words. It was amusing to see him like that, and it lit something else inside him. This meeting was making Dream experience a range of feelings he'd forgotten about. He showed Hob a smile, and Hob smiled back at him, warm and gentle as ever. Their hands were still linked together. Dream had no intention of letting go. "Ah, yes. This little prick here is indeed my dearest, oldest friend. I did want them to meet you guys. I'm glad I was right about it."

When Hob said it, it made Dream's heart sing.

"...so you're fuckbuddies?"

" Marissa! "

————

After a few hours and many, many rounds of different conversations, Hob gathered the group once again, thanking them for coming and congratulating everyone on the success of their first meeting. Dream couldn't help but notice how Hob seemed unable to stop smiling. He could feel the pride and relief radiating off of his tanned skin and kind eyes. Dream wished he could have it all directed at himself, that gentleness.

Hob's boyfriend. Now that would be something.

Dream sat on the booth table behind the bar where he and Hob usually held their meetings and waited for everyone to leave. He wanted some time alone with Hob, even if just to hear what his beloved friend had to say about what he thought of the meeting, just to hear Hob's voice, the only music suited for Dream's ears.

He also had so many new feelings inside himself to explore. Those he could tend to later.

"Hey there, handsome stranger." Hob said as he sat across from Dream on the table, taking Dream's hand in his as if it was just the way they always did things. Maybe it could be. It wouldn't hurt (too much) to hope, would it? "Come here often?"

"Only when I'm in search of an epiphany." Dream couldn't bother to hide the fondness in his own voice, nor the relief he felt to have Hob's hand cradling his own again. "I am impressed, Professor Gadlen. You have gathered a group of exceptionally bright minds. It gives me hope for a better future for humanity."

"Wow Dream, that is… that is really high praise, especially coming from you." Hob seemed flushed, and Dream wondered what else he could do to cause that reaction, to see Hob shy and pretty like that again and again. "I learned a long time ago that I have to build the future I want to live in. But in all honesty… I'm more interested in the present right now."

"Oh, is that so?" Hob's optimism was infectious, it seemed. Dream too could only focus on the present moment. "I am glad to be able to share it with you."

There was a short silence shared between them after that. It was as if neither of them were ready to say whatever it was they clearly needed. Dream tried to take comfort in the feeling of Hob's hand in his, rubbing the back of Hob's hand with his thumb.

His mistake was looking up to meet Hob's eyes.

"There is much I have learned today." Dream decided he'd be the one to break the silence. He'd be the one to take the leap, because he knew Hob had made sure he'd make a safe landing. He knew that no matter what happened, no matter how much he could get hurt, he was safe. He could trust Hob with his heart, even if there was a chance that he would break it. "I often make the mistake of thinking there is nothing more to my existence than what I have already discovered. I contain all conscious minds throughout the universe, their lives, hopes and dreams. Yet, I forget that the tales of others cannot substitute one's own experience, only enlighten it."

Hob listened to Dream's words attentively. He looked anxious, but would not interrupt. Dream knew he wouldn't. He knew how much Hob cherished the moments where Dream felt ready to share something new. "Today, you have once more shown me there is much I have to learn. For that, I am grateful, Hob Gadling.”

How could Dream not fall in love with someone that treated him like he was the moon? How could the moon not love the sun?

"I'm grateful for you too, you know. The kids loved you. I'm sure I'll be getting asked about you for the rest of the semester. Maybe even longer." Hob's eyes were so fond it made Dream want to cry.

"And how would you like to answer their inquiries?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you like to tell them of your dearest, oldest friend…" Dream leaned in, bringing Hob's hand to his own cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to Hob's palm, and watched as Hob's eyes followed his every move. There was no turning back from this. "...or would you prefer to tell them about your lover, Hob?"

For a moment, time stopped. Their eyes met, and before Dream could get anxious or regret his words, Hob was already standing and leaning over the table, locking their lips together.

Dream thought he'd heard the sound of people cheering outside one of the windows of the New Inn. Hob would certainly be getting many questions from his students come next monday.

#virgo dream writes #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #dream x Hob #Morpheus x Hob #pride fic #dreamling fic #the sandman fic #remember when I used to write?

189 notes · View notes

z-is-very-tired · 1 year

Text

Viktor Cross Stitch Update #2 !!!

I have made it to 20% with this man finally!!!

More process photos under the cut!

The above two photos were both taken on one night. I made a goal to finish the part of his crutch that is visible between the crook of his pointer finger and the top of his middle finger (circled in the left photo). Before doing this I had spent so much time worried that his hand didn't look good and that I had invested so much time in something that wasn't going to work out. While I was finishing that part of his crutch I could see the depth and dimension come together, and I genuinely cried in relief and joy and wonder at my work. I love cross stitch so much, but it is a very "trust the process" work, and I am very impatient.

Left: a picture when I had just finished his fingers (mostly).

Right: the first picture I took where it really looked like what I hoped it would when I started. I spend so much time with my nose 3 inches away from this thing, and so it's hard to like, see it as more than just individual pixels.

Once again thanking my dears @4typercent @missmacfire of the sandfam discord, and @lonelyfangirl11 and @sirohsisofliver of my irl friendship.

#z cross stitches #cross stitch #viktor arcane #viktor

36 notes · View notes

ineffablyendless · 2 years

Text

Blinks. It seems that I have been tagged to play the Last Line Tag by @dustylovelyrun, which is a lovely surprise. I didnt think anyone was paying attention to my sparse works but, I'm happy to play nonetheless!

Per the rules (well, guidelines), I'm meant to post the last lines of my wip, but since my very last had to be the kidnapped Hob shot im trying to fulfill with Yan and possibly Yue if they ever check their tumblr notifs (😅), I'll post some last lines from my other wips instead

I miss him, a GO/Sandman crossover fic, of Aziraphale traversing the Dreaming in October of 2020, when Crowley had promised to wake up and yet remains stubbornly asleep;

She would have, thought Dream, but when he hears of the battle of the Tadfield Airbase, the reason becomes distressingly clear. She had survived by the hair’s breadth’s bluff. A son of Lucifer could have hurt her, as surely as they had injured the rest of the Horsemen, by Silver Blade and Divine fire.

She wouldn’t have wanted Dream to worry, and his thirst for vengeance was that of legends. Hypocrite, Dream thought fondly. He will be sure to bring it up when she next swoops in for an unannounced visit. Perhaps even a family dinner.

I am Hope, another GO/Sandman wip of the Oldest Game tournament between Dream and Lucifer, from Crowley's POV

He remains suspended, well above the teeming masses, and sees the Unholy Lord and their unsolicited guest where they perch upon the balcony that overlooks them all, and Crowley recognizes him indeed. His preferred form of deathly pallor and feather soft head of hair is unmistakable in their beauty, the persona of all that Yearns and Longs and Hopes.

Dream of the Endless sets a glare upon Lucifer Morningstar that would have been unforgivable by any other entity, but he is a monarch of power of his own right, and he has-as far as Crowley knows-broken no laws. Lucifer simply smiles.

Finally, an untitled dreamling Royal AU, with mysterious Prince Morpheus and Hob being Death's knight

Hob raises a curious brow. "Were you, then?" He prods. "Planning to give someone a sort of shakedown?"

There is a telling silence as Matthew stares down the circle of ale left behind from the slosh of Hob’s cup, shifting uncomfortably. Hob lets him stew in it. His patience is larger than most would suspect of him, not that it takes very long at all.

And of course, tagging @ennas-aesthetic, @wannabecoyote and my favourite Sandfam writers (who no doubt have been tagged multiple times probably), @landwriter @softest-punk @moorishflower @gabessquishytum

Edit: also @wordsinhaled please

#last line tag #thank you for tagging me!#this was fun #some of these drafts seeing the light of day for the first time 😂#and i welcome asks of course if youre curious!#im pretty sure ive shared the whole outline of the royal AU #ill link it if you ask #fanfic #choice of fic

5 notes · View notes

withoutyouimsaskia · 1 year

Text

Low (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @sigurism

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Angst/comfort. Morpheus attempts to bring comfort to a dreamer who is managing depression, while in his cat form.

Warnings: Angst, talk of depression

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Hey Sandfam, can you believe it has been a whole year since series 1 hit our screens? To celebrate, I am sharing a one-shot that features our beloved Dream as Meowpheus. Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think. Would love to know if you're doing anything to commemorate today. All my love, Saskia <3

Sandman Masterlist

--------------------------------------------

If a person were allowed to view what was presently being thought inside your mind and felt within your heart, they would likely notice that your body was being a direct conduit for both.

You were often cited by others as someone who wore their heart on the sleeve. When you had first heard the phrase directed towards you, it had conjured a pleasant connotation. Showing your emotions could not really be a bad thing, could it? Humans loved love, and they loved honesty. However, honesty about less-than-positive feelings; you have come to learn that it doesn't produce the same reaction.

All endearment fades.

Infants, children, adolescents can feel as they wish. Adults must be in control.

Unhappiness is something to be fixed, avoided, quashed; an emotion to be ashamed of, this is what you have been conditioned to believe. And unfortunately, the manner in which a vast majority of people behave in response to your low moods does little to aid in changing your mindset.

"Cheer up, it might never happen", they would say, the flippant words a paralysing gut punch that leaves you wanting to scream: It already did.

You then feel obligated to double down on your efforts to flatten the emotional peaks and troughs. A dangerous pursuit, for repressing sadness in lieu of its acknowledgement allows for it to stack up and up so much that you that run the risk of it spilling forth in unfavourable, non-triggering settings.

You are a human shaped pressure cooker. Doomed to spiral at the petrol station.

There was a time when sleep brought you a refuge. Regardless of how bad your day had been, how leaden your steps, you could always find enough fervour to propel yourself into carrying out your bedtime routine and then contentedly fall asleep.

For in dreams, the act of masking your feelings from observers could be dropped; you were alone in body and mind within the neutrality of your bedroom. Sure, you had nightmares at times but you derived so much pleasure from their dream counterparts that it did not matter in the long term.

You were happy in your dreamscapes to simply be.

Until you suddenly weren't.

A new low was discovered in waking and it has transformed into one you cannot escape from, even in dreams. Each night has become a repetition. You slip into sleep and plummet to the same subconscious rock bottom.

The place where you go, the earth is cold and damp under your prone body. You lay on your side, one arm cradling your head, the other wrapped around your middle.

An ominous drone takes up residence within your mind, a constant reminder of your thoughts and feelings.

Here you remain.

Trapped in the doldrums. Languishing away. Asleep but not seeking fantasies.

Even your usual nightmares are not drawn to you for there is nothing to entice them in. What could you need of a nightmare right now? There was nothing that could be taught.

Morpheus, Dream of the Endless senses the shift. You are a blip in a sea of dreamers. As if your subconscious mind has become a daub of dark matter against a backdrop of glowing galaxies; you exist but your light is extinguished.

There is so much anguish and the King of Dreams and Nightmares feels it all too keenly, as if it were his own.

It grows in strength with each passing day and night, taking your will to carry on. The handiwork of Despair of the Endless is all too apparent, intricate and bold in its ensnarement until you are a focal point of suffering.

Unsurprisingly, this is not the first time that Morpheus has felt the sorrow of a dreamer. Having existed for millennia, he has been witness to every variety. Kinds brought on by grief, shame, fear, longing, loathing to name but a few. There is something additional afoot with you though.

The desolate clearing you have been coming to, the fact that it is the same location every night, unchanging and devoid of hope. It is unusual, and hard to witness.

Despair has you in a chokehold.

What pains Morpheus even further is that he cannot remove his sibling's influence here. He can, however, offer you a reprieve.

He will bring you a dream.

A few moments are spent wandering through your prior dreamscapes, through the aid of the book emblazoned with your name, looking for things that have brought you solace in the past. Morpheus sees a few are inspired by memories.

He knows he must do this in a delicate manner and settles on a reserved option. One that would hopefully not startle you too much. Approaching you in a humanoid form is not feasible. It was other humans that had contributed to your current state, judging by your recent nightmares.

Morpheus enters the frame upon four legs, approaching you on soundless feet. Each step is measured, the pads of each wide paw flattening imperceptibly into the cold, loose ground.

He creeps closer and takes a minute to watch you. Your eyelids are closed, forehead pinched with a frown, mouth set in a grimace.

Morpheus stands beside you and nudges his nose against the hand you are gripping your torso with. Three sensations stand out to you. The soft press of the contact. The warm breath of an exhalation. The delicate tickle of whiskers.

The latter is a something you recognise immediately; it was unlike anything else in the universe.

You open your eyes, unsurprised by the image that greets you.

Next to you stands a cat. At least you think it is a cat.

They are much larger than any feline you have ever laid eyes on, made even more immense by their black fur; wild and mussed but not in a way that suggested they were uncared for, rather that it had been blown about by an unrelenting wind.

"Hello." You push yourself to a cross-legged seated position. "Are you lost?"

The innocent little question is loaded with such pathos that Morpheus has to blink back the hot prick of tears behind his eyes. Here you were, your hope, your life force literally ebbing away and you were worried about him.

He instinctually edges a bit closer to you before you speak again, this time in a whisper.

“I’m afraid I might not be much help. I’m lost too."

You extend your arm, offering the flat of your palm to the cat as a proper introduction, one that he reciprocates by bumping his cheek firmly against your skin.

"I guess we can be lost together."

Your sad smile is utterly devastating as you scratch behind one of his almost wolfish ears. He is unbelievably soft and you reach for the same spot again.

Morpheus puts his front paws on your left knee so you don't have to stretch as far and lets you continue to touch his head.

He is aware of the science of petting a cat with its lowering of blood pressure and alleviation of stress and anxiety, and with every second, he feels a lessening of your most acute pain, like the top layers are being skimmed away.

You feel better physically too, less tightness in your muscles and more awareness in your senses. You begin to notice things like the scent of the air and the ambient temperature. It is damp and mild but nothing you can’t handle, and it is a nice thought to have.

"You're very handsome," You comment, carefully and meticulously running your fingers through the dark fur, starting at his head and ending at the very tip of his bushy tail.

Morpheus, though he was calm before, is instantly and completely disarmed by these long-form strokes and is powerless to stop the deep, rumbling purrs that emanate from within his chest.

You smile widely at your companion’s reaction.

"Would you like to sit on me?" You pat your thigh as an invitation.

Morpheus hesitates, wondering if he would be crossing a boundary of familiarity. You don’t know that he is the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares. To you, he is a cat and according to your dreams, an animal that makes you feel safe and calm.

And right now, you were making him feel the same. This was not in any way a part of his plan when he had shown himself to you but who was he to deny what was clearly happening here?

He climbs up.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” You say encouragingly, delighted by the fact that this beautiful cat has chosen to trust you.

Morpheus takes a moment to settle and then snuggles into the crook of your arm. His warmth and weight are comforting sensations. You resume your gentle stroking, and he resumes his satisfied purring.

He gazes up at you with his striking blue eyes. Stormy in their intensity, oceanic in their colour. They are eyes that seem to hold the depth of a juxtaposed universe within them; wise yet weary. Hopeful yet haunted.

You have never seen anything like them in cats or humans alike.

The more you look, the more the cat's face seems to say: "Feel what you need to. Everything will be okay." How you determine this, you do not know yet you go with it, you are asleep after all.

Overcome with emotion, you screw your eyes shut and bend down to bring your face close to Morpheus' own. You cuddle him and the tears begin to fall.

"Thank you," You say in a hoarse whisper.

A little piece of hope glistens within you. You can do this. You don't have to hide your feelings. You shouldn't.

Morpheus feels his heart bursting at this wavering of your despair.

He decides there and then that he will do this for you every night until you feel strong enough to leave this barren plane.

No words needed. Just a human and a cat. Helping each other feel less alone.

147 notes · View notes