dreamscrawl

[dreamscrawl]

aah readers are still leaving kudos on my little dream fic on ao3.🥹🤚 thanks for reading.

you must have gone through a lot of pages to get to that fic. 🙇‍♀️💖

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reblog if you’re a writer who feels guilt whenever they’re not writing and being productive, so I know I’m not the only one lol

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thinking of you becoming price's personal lucky charm :)

cw: f!reader. slightly nsfw. very rushed/unedited. idk shit about casinos or card games lol. part one | part two

when your friend begged you to dress up fancy and go out with them, a casino was not what you had in mind. especially not an underground one, entrance hardly visible in the dimly lit street, where you even needed a password to get in.

despite being far from your definition of a night out, you decide to give one of the games a chance. the roulette seemed the easiest, with seemingly less rules to learn, and to your surprise, you're crushing it. starting with safe outside bets, you make your way to straight bets and stay winning every single one of them. 

at your winning streak, you sense two sets of eyes on you, almost burning your flesh with the heat that crawls to your cheeks. you peek over your shoulder and meet two burly men, one with an icy stare and half-covered face, the other with an adorable boyish smirk and a mohawk. still, both glare at you with an intense puzzled gaze, laced with curiosity and an underlying hunger that makes you shiver. 

suddenly, you feel a rough hand settling on your lower back, nearly making you jump on your seat, “what does the pretty lady think about heading to the vip section?” the man says, pearly smile doing a perfectly good job in luring you in, “all that luck needs to be put to good use.”

you ponder for a second, fearing that once you’re in, all your fortune will slip out your fingers and the beginner’s luck will be gone forever. but his sweet brown eyes are too convincing, and you nod, taking his hand and walking through a mysterious door.

“i– i don’t know how to play poker,” you stutter, brows knitted together at the sight of a round table with piles of chips in the center.

"don't worry, love, you're not here to play," a bearded man says, gruff voice followed by a puff of his cigar. he seems a bit older than the one who brought you inside or the two observers, ocean-blue eyes looking at you tenderly, but the sly smirk on his face doesn't go unnoticed.

he pats his thigh, gesturing for you to sit, "my men say you've been quite lucky out there," a smoke cloud forms in front of him, mingling with the strong scent of his cologne, "let's check."

hesitantly, you comply, plush thighs meeting his firm one. he chuckles at your shyness and pulls you closer to his torso by your waist, positioning your ass right above his growing bulge and you bite back a squeal, "name's John."

the game restarts and you watch the dealer distributing the cards. you glance at his hand and he holds five cards, all hearts, which must be a good sign, given the way he squeezed your hip, certainly hard enough to leave a bruise. not that you minded, considering the damp spot forming between your legs.

"would you look at that, straight flush," he flashes you a grin, cigar dangling from his lips as his laugh echoes amongst the annoyed huffs of other players.

his fingers trace your spine, teasingly edging the waistband of your skirt as you try your best not to squirm, "mighty luck you have, love," he whispers in your ear, beard gently grazing your neck.

he hands you one of his golden chips, "for you, as a thank you," your eyes widen at the number 1000 etched in the back, promptly pushing back the gift. he shakes his head, palm sneaking its way to your inner thigh, "there's way more where that came from."

it's safe to say you might become an avid gambler after tonight.

[dreamscrawl]

Hi, hello! It’s been a while. I just wanna pop in and say thanks to everyone who read this little thing (on here and at AO3)—Thank you for reading! I will continue this of course. The second short story is still in the works. Life just got a little busy and overwhelming.

I’m very excited for S2!

🫶

A WAKING CONVERSATION WITH DREAM | The Sandman Fan Fiction

or Morpheus initiating a conversation with you who, he realized, was spending too much time in The Dreaming. | An Endless House short story.

Pair: Dream of the Endless × f!Reader Word Count: 1.1k | Warnings: None Themes: Mental Health (Implied)

“[Y/N].”

His voice was like cold breeze in the night, a little hoarse, made ominous by the darkened room. It didn’t appeal to you well how he could appear out of nowhere—how any of the Endless could do such a thing. It was fascinating, sure, but troubling. (What if you were doing something? Surely, they would know timing, right?) You always tried to hear the whistling of sand or the shuffling trail of his coat, but somehow it always slipped your ears, no matter how attentive you were.

Keep reading

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A violet in the youth of primy nature.

ig credit: ophelia.thorn.

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The Raft of the Medusa by Théodore Géricault.

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’Cause we survived the Great War...

Taylor Swift - The Great War (2022)

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A Sandman thing I’m working on:

Please tell me your thoughts!

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The rumours are true. Well, the good ones are, anyway. Netflix is delighted and thrilled that so many of you, all over the world, have been watching and loving Sandman, which means that the thing we were all hoping would happen...? Well, it's happened...

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write that book. publish that blog. apply for that job. dye your hair. cut your bangs. pick up that hobby that you’ve always wanted to try. wear that outfit that you loved but were too afraid to put on in public. life is way too short. be whoever you want to be, and do whatever you want. stop waiting for the right moment, because there will never be one. sometimes you just gotta say fuck it, and do it! live your life the way you want, and don’t ask for anyone’s approval.

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Midnights lyric prompt list

1. “you don’t ever say too much”

2. “how the hell did we lose sight of us again?”

3. “i should not be left to my own device”

4. “you wanting me tonight feels impossible”

5. “you’ve got no reason to be afraid”

6. “i never think of him, except on midnights like this”

7. “i don’t remember who i was before you”

8. “don’t get sad, get even”

9. “i made you my world”

10. “i’ll be getting over you my whole life”

11. “karma’s a relaxing thought”

12. “i find myself running home”

13. “i told u none of it was accidental”

tagging some people i don’t mind annoying and also who reblogged the last ones: @sgtbuckyybarnes @katiekinswrites @witchofinterest @ceruleanmusings @starcrossedjedis @eddiemunscns @steveshcrringtons

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Quick guide to “Show not tell”

We’re always told to do more showing and less telling in our work, but rarely told what that means. What exactly should you show and what should you tell? Really, the rule is simple - show us things that are important to your story, and tell us those that aren’t pivotal.

Telling isn’t always the worst thing you could possibly do, but you should know when to do it. Sometimes, trying to show absolutely everything in your story can get exhausting to the reader, and you might be in danger of losing the point you were trying to get across. 

Make sure when you show us something, it’s of importance to your overall story!

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When people hear Dream talk about Hob Gadling they assume he’s a deity or at the very least the most fascinating, utterly captivating and powerful creature that ever walked the face of this Earth…

And then they actually meet Hob, this textbook mediocre Honda Civic of a man, whose defining personality trait is that he loves the Great British Bake Off and they go: “Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, Your Majesty with all due respect are you sure we’re talking about the same person??”

And Dream’s just watching Hob in his backyard making small talk with the neighbor lady about the weather while he’s struggling with a lawnmower or some absolute mediocre shit like that and Dream, who’s older than creation, who contains the entire subconscious of all living things gets this utterly besotted look and says, “Isn’t he magnificent?” Just as Hob steps on a rake and gets hit in the head so hard it knocks him out cold.

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BEJEWELED dir. Taylor Swift (2022)

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me in planning stages of writing: this fucks. this is gonna be so fun.

me the minute i sit down to write: language is an unwieldy cudgel we use to beat the human experience to death in an attempt at ever communicating fully with another being. i wish intelligent life had never evolved. i want to go back to the cell stage like in spore

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The Physicality of Sitcoms

(Morpheus x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You watch a sitcom with Morpheus and discover something interesting.

Warnings: Suggestive situation

Word Count: 521

A/N: This is a little fluffy fic for 100+ followers! Thank you for all the love and support you've shown me. It means the world!

You and Morpheus sat on your couch, watching a sitcom you had been raving about for the past week. A blanket was thrown over both of your laps, and your head was on his shoulder. One wouldn’t think it by looking at him, but Morpheus enjoyed physical contact nearly as much as you. He just used small gestures instead.

He’d interlock his pinky with yours, graze his fingertips down your arm, and rest his hand on your back. Though, he never pulled away when you initiated contact. He would intertwine his fingers with yours when you grabbed his hand. If you’d wrap your arms around his waist, he’d wrap his around your shoulders and kiss your head.

You hadn’t been together long, but you’d never felt such peace with another person.

The episode ended, so you turned to him.

“Now that you’ve seen a few, what do you think?” you asked. Morpheus' face remained relaxed yet stoic throughout the show. You’d gotten better at reading his microexpressions, but sometimes it was difficult.

He took a moment before speaking. “I enjoyed it. I can see why humans dream about the characters.”

“Wait. Which characters do people dream about?” Maybe this was considered prying, but you didn’t feel too bad. You’ve had your fair share of characters popping up in a dream.

“The awkward man and older gentleman I’ve seen frequently. And the shorter woman. Though I’ve seen them all at one point or another.” He thought about something, the corner of his lip ticking up. “You’ve also had some intriguing dreams with film characters.”

Your eyes widened, and your face grew hot.

“You said you wouldn’t go through my book!” You straightened.

“That was before you accepted me,” he said. “I accidentally stumbled across it.”

There was no way that was an accident.

You covered your face with your hands.

“That is so embarrassing.” Your words were muffled.

“Enough.” He pulled your hands into his and lowered his voice. “I couldn’t help noticing some…similarities…between this character and myself.”

You tried not to squirm and avoided his eyes.

“I hoped those similarities meant something,” he whispered, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “Did they, darling?”

When you had that dream, you wouldn’t have picked up on how closely Morpheus and that character looked alike. However, a few nights later, you had that same dream after Morpheus had asked you on a date. It wasn’t until you woke up and remembered your dream that Morpheus’ face replaced the character's.

You slowly nodded, glancing up.

The smirk you heard on his lips was now a gentle smile. One he only gave to those closest to him.

He brought you in for a quick kiss that sent a shot of heat through you.

“Could you…show me what happened in those dreams? So I may know what to recreate for you—in the Dreaming, of course.” That glint in his eyes held so much mischief, so much promise.

“Okay,” you breathed, slotting your mouth against his.

He picked you up by your thighs as he stood. And when he passed your bedroom door, shut it with his foot.

[dreamscrawl]

i finished this one already, like a month ago. i just need to polish and edit. :)

You can probably tell where this scene is going. It’s from a new Endless House short called, Pretty and Petty. Posting it on Friday, hopefully.