#sandman shitpost

[sweet-like-cinnamon-5]

Matthew when Morpheus goes traveling and doesn't bring him

[zzoomacroom]

Crackfic idea: Retired Dream misses his helm; he used to wear it to calm down and ground himself when he would get overwhelmed (it's never clear in canon what exactly the helm does, but I feel like in addition to whatever power it has, it would also be the eldritch equivalent of noise-cancelling headphones).

Anyway, now he has a collection of helm substitutes, ranging from balaclavas to custom motorcycle helmets to Halloween masks. It's not the same as his old helm, but he does find it oddly calming to wear them. He doesn't like to wear them out in public because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself or embarrass Hob, but Hob encourages him to use them if he needs to. He keeps one of the motorcycle helmets in his car and says if anyone asks, he'll just tell them Dream is a famous DJ.

It's also not uncommon for Hob to come home and find his boyfriend puttering around the flat in nothing but his underwear and one of the historically accurate knight helmet replicas that Hob just has lying around (because of course he does). And sometimes he'll find Dream curled up on the couch, and when he pulls the blanket down he's like, "Ah, I see. I'm so sorry you're having a bad day, duck. Do you think you could take off the Darth Vader mask and have some dinner?"

[writing-for-life]

Family Dinner Vibes!

Or: The curious case of the pirate suit

[Well, they had to do something to avoid her going starkers I guess. Despair is fierce in this universe]

And then there was…

No wait… It’s the friggin’ black coat again. Give the man the pirate suit!

[darklinsblog]

Bring Me To Life| Sandman Imagine

Summary: Y/N is part of the Burgess family, somewhat of a black sheep, when she finds the prisoner her family has kept for 90 years, your father finds a way to dispose of his own daughter. Imprisoning her with The Dream Lord.

Pairing: Morpheus x Burguess! Reader

Requested: Yes

Author’s note: Will be updating my tag list so please comment if you want in on out of it!

You were always aware you were different from your family, they were always so shallow, empty, even.

Your father was nephew of the wealthy Roderick Burgess, and if Roderick was cruel and despicable, your father Maurice was much more worse.

For starters, he had way too many children, you were clearly the one in the middle, having many responsibilities that no child should have at your age, and even when you did everything you could to earn your father’s love and acceptance, you only got hatred in return.

He genuinely hated your guts.

His words, not yours.

But still someone a part of you was holding onto hope that maybe one day he would learn to love you.

While you waited for that day to come, you did your best to blend into the background, which for the record, wasn’t hard at all with six teens running around the house screaming all day long.

By your twenties you were a master of truly “minding your shit” as your father used to tell you, one particular day, everyone had gone hunting as the only female, it was easy to leave you behind.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t bored out of your mind after a while, and then like a light switch, you remembered the house had a basement.

As any forgotten part of the house, you were told multiple times to leave it, to never even think of it, but at least the mysterious basement had to be more interesting than this empty mansion.

What you did not prepare for, was to find some… being trapped in a glass prison, he seemed like a man but something about him felt supernatural, extraordinary even.

His eyes followed even the slightest of your moves. As your fingertips merely crashed the cold surface of the glass, the eyes of the “man” opened wider, a distorted reflection of your father’s knowing figure, holding s large object, but before you could turn to face him.

All was suddenly black after a sharp pain hit the back of your neck and a buzz on your ears.

As you regained consciousness, your senses buzzed, everything somehow felt colder, lonelier, wrong…

When turning your head, you noticed the being you were staring at on the other side of the glass; only this time, he was right beside you.

Completely startled you backed away, until you met the cold surface of the bubble you were now trapped in.

You noticed more now the nakedness of the man (that is to refer to him because quite frankly, he was anything but human), which made your cheeks turn red and more than ever you appreciated your own clothes.

Tears were streaming down your face quietly and you wiped them away as soon as the left your eyes, embarrassed for this stranger to see you at your very worst.

“Morpheus”.

A voice inside your head spoke calmly but loudly, you turned to see the man beside you, empathy could be seen in his features, his hand softly grazing yours.

It had been so long since he last touched anyone, your skin felt soft and warm to the touch, it was something that now his heart longed for.

You didn’t know what it was, maybe the despair of being trapped here for God knows how long, the confusion and anger that came as to why you were here or the overall sadness.

Whatever it might’ve been, you found yourself embracing Morpheus softly by the neck, hiding your face as you sobbed lightly.

The Dream Lord was startled at first, but delicately his hands found a place in your back and to your waist he was letting you have complete control over this moment, he did not wish to touch you in any way that would make you uncomfortable.

He let you hold onto him as long and as hard as you needed to, but he knew his role there was only to contain your sadness until it went away.

“It is nice to know you, Morpheus” you whispered in his ear after a long period of sadness.

Ten long years had passed since you were trapped in the bubble prison with Morpheus, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a particular affection towards each other as well as a complex non-spoken communication between the two, he would let his voice echo your mind every now and then, but mostly, by simply looking at each other it was enough to know it all.

It hurt to think that nobody was looking for you, but then again, you would not be surprised by this, yet, a naive part of you thought maybe they were looking. Truth be told, if they were, they would’ve found you by now. After all, you were still in the same damn house.

But today something happened, Alex Burgess, your uncle, had gone down to see you two, it had been years since you saw him, but he was indeed, fragile and old, almost at the end of his days.

His eyes fell on you, you could see the sense of recognition in his gaze but quickly his eyes diverted to the King of dreams, completely disregarding your presence.

You held onto Morpheus’ arm trying to hold back on your anger as Alex Burgess went on his monologue to the King of Dreams about how he had done wrong in not wanting to be free all those years ago.

But you understood his motives as to why he didn’t chose freedom, his companion deserved that the perpetrators of her cold blooded murder paid the price.

Truth be told, it also did rub the wrong way to Morpheus how your own blood ignored you, after spending a decade by your side, he had gotten to know your very essence and in full honesty, you deserved something better than the rotten tree you were born in.

But something happened, as Alex turned his wheels to leave, the restraining runes were slightly wiped off.

You both looked at one another, acknowledging the window of opportunity you were given by the neglect of Alex.

For the first time in a decade you recognized in the eyes of the other, the almost foreign sentiment of hope, you step aside, letting Morpheus concentrate as you understood the only one who could set you free now was him.

Everything to you, seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, the cracks, the breaking, the shots fired and as Morpheus conjured some sort of vortex, he stretched out his hand for you to reach.

Going with him, was tempting, but you knew now as you stood in front of him, your journeys were very different, he had a kingdom to restore while you had to figure your own identity outside of the Burgess last name, to find if, you had any other living relatives, to find answers to all your questions.

You smiled at him, in a way which he understood it all.

“There will always be a place for you in the Dreaming Y/N Burgess” he finally spoke, after all those ages of silence, it wasn’t just a voice echoing in your brain, it was real.

You nodded, at the very edge of tears, the mixture of relief and nostalgia for this chapter of your life ending becoming all so overwhelming.

“I’ll come and find you, King of Dreams” you promised to him, the corners of his mouth lifting in the ghost of a smile.

“Till we meet again” he said taking your hand and planting a subtle kiss on it before going back to his world.

Leaving you be in yours.

But even as the chapter of your imprisonment came to and end, you knew, deep in your heart, your story with the myth in the flesh, was far from over.

Taglist: @emiemiemiii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay @aurorarevenclaw1927 @adishax @meganmayhem89 @mrs-captainsteverogers @hb8301 @sarahbullet235 @bambooing-shenanigans @queenshelby @characterxreaderimagine @emarich7 @carolcrysis @sister-of-stars @coolsnowker @vvsdreaming @jesllianaquilesrolon @supermegapauselouca

[writing-for-life]

30 years of unhealthy obsession with the sparkly man. It waxes and wanes, but it’s only ever dormant, never gone. It’s an incurable disease (maybe glitter-herpes, don’t know).

@marlowe-zara @rey-jake-therapist @tickldpnk8 I’m sorry (no I’m not).

People need to get over this phase of abandoning fandoms so fast. There are 70 year old women still into Spirk and you people can’t hold onto a man for a month. Shape up and stop abandoning your gently used blorbos in wet cardboard boxes on the side of the highway after a week

[lichanicksstuff]

Professor Gadling always knows which student wrote their paper and which one used chat GPT. Nobody knows how he does it. No paraphrasing program can dupe him. He can always tell. Every one of his colleagues is amazed by this skill, they always ask for his help judging if the essay was written by an AI or a person. And he does that with a wide smile on his face.

It's really easy. All it takes is to give his old friend a good cup of tea and a red pen to mark the ones that were not written by a human hand. "The imitations don't have souls," his friend says. And this is what he tells his students. They never understand and Hob finds it very funny.

[fandomfoundmyart]

oh my god edwin pick a struggle (affectionate)

[pellaaearien]

[writing-for-life]

@ml-nolan , please don’t leave these absolute gems in the tags:

Because that’s it, right there! Mystery of the no-dance-rule solved. Tits out is no problem for our boy, we know that. But if the whole thing slips. Nope. Can’t have that.

Bonus: Dream wearing essentially nothing but a sheet and a loadbearing ruby to his son’s wedding

[zzoomacroom]

Hob Gadling Headcanons

He has a big dick

He unironically loves "live laugh love" signs. I mean, it's his whole philosophy on life, right? He has several of these signs around his home and office. Back when he was Sir Robert Gadlen it was inscribed on his family crest. He coined the expression and he's only mildly annoyed that he can't take credit for it.

The song "All Star" by Smash Mouth has been his personal anthem for the past 20 years or so. The lyrics just really resonate with him and he listens to it every morning to get psyched up for his day.

He cried for hours the first time he saw the "Jurassic Bark" episode of Futurama. You know, the one with the dead dog? The ending just hit way too close to home for him.

His hatred of Shakespeare is actually justified, but not because he ruined his date with Dream. The two of them were casually acquainted and Shakespeare thought Hob was rather obnoxious and arrogant, so he wrote a character inspired by Hob into one of his plays. When Hob first saw A Midsummer Night's Dream he immediately recognized that Nick Bottom was a dig at him, but he couldn't say anything without looking like even more of, well, an ass. Why the name Bottom? Well, you see,

[writing-for-life]

The Endless—Michael Allred

Honestly, I still believe they’re all trying to outslut each other in this one.

Dream tits out as always, Destruction goes, “Yeah, but I’ve got chest hair!” Death is about to pull a Sharon Stone, Desire’s already in the middle of it and just needs to will away their kit, Despair’s like, “Groan, you’re all so complicated, be naked, be free!”

Destiny: “Nope, you’re all doing it wrong, subtle, fully clothed stoicism is way hotter.” But then he proceeds to lean against the pillar as if he’s waiting for someone to buy him a drink and turns out his hip. Just a bit of course.

And Del’s just Del 🤣

[darklinsblog]

Little Prince | Sandman Imagine

Summary: You ask Morpheus to read to you your favorite story growing up, The Little Prince

Pairing: Morpheus x Human! Reader

Requested: Yes

Author’s note: Special mention to @saraicus who made spoil a tad bit of this imagine hehe

Ever since you could recall, you had loved the book of the Little Prince, from a child to now as an adult it was just some sort of safe space, something you could always revisit whenever.

Whether you were feeling sad or you simply wanted to reminisce on your memories linked to this very specific book, you found yourself reading it over and over again.

Each time you read it, you found something new, maybe another lesson to be learned or just something in the book itself you hadn’t notice before.

As usual you entered the library and grabbed a set of books and Lucienne, the librarian and dear friend of yours was already stretching your comfort story into your direction.

You smiled holding back a laugh

“Am I really that predictable?”

“I firmly believe that every single one of us needs a book to comfort us” she spoke sweetly.

“Even if it’s a children’s book?”

“A child will always possess an infinite imagination, maybe as a adults we see more beauty to the world through the eyes of a child”

Maybe she was write, perhaps it was a good thing, maybe you were keeping your inner child close while still learning about diverse topics.

Truth be told, you spend most of your time at the library, it was quiet, peaceful and it could be just you and whatever story you would immerse yourself in.

As you read, you were softly interrupted by a kiss at the top of your head, you looked up to see Morpheus softly smiling down at you.

“Enjoying your read?” He asked softly, making you smile and nod.

“Very much so” you said, you were writing a mythology book, but by the corner of his eye he noticed the very familiar book to you.

He stretched out to grab it, feeling the sense of the book cover, the pages, he had seen this book countless times over the years but now, it held a special place in his heart.

Morpheus could not get even a simple glance at the book without his eyes glistening or a soft smile forming on his lips.

Because now this book, inherently reminded him of you, the one object of all his affection, longing and hope.

“What’s on your mind, my king?” You questioned him with a hint of curiosity

“Mind if I read this to you, later tonight?” He asked quite cautiously, not being sure of how you would react, but as he saw your eyes glistening, air seemed to find its way back to his lungs.

“That would be lovely”

You were quite excited to have Morpheus read for you, because he knew how much this reading meant for you.

Something you loved was that Morpheus never fault a single promise and today was no different because at night time, right after finishing his duties he was ready to read for you.

He sat on the bed, signaling you to come closer, you carefully laid on his chest and he grabbed the book of the Little Prince and started reading out loud for you.

His voice was so relaxing and listening to the story on his voice made you love it more and be more attentive.

“It is only with the heart that one can see clearly…” he went on narrating and this time you could help yourself to finish the sentence you knew so well.

“…What is essential is invisible to the eye”

This time you looked at your lover, who smiled at you and kissed your cheek, he closed the book and embraced you fully, keeping you warm and safe.

Your whole body felt loose under him and right now you wished this moment would last forever, that you could stay like this, almost frozen in time.

Like nothing truly mattered.

The King of Dreams could feel you slowly falling asleep in his arms and it was reassuring for him to know you were comfortable enough to let yourself drift into your sleep.

“Rest, my lady. We have countless days ahead of us” he murmured in your ear and was the last thing you heard as you finally fell asleep.

Taglist: @emiemiemiii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay @aurorarevenclaw1927 @adishax @meganmayhem89 @mrs-captainsteverogers @hb8301 @bambooing-shenanigans @queenshelby @characterxreaderimagine @emarich7 @carolcrysis @coolsnowker @jesllianaquilesrolon @supermegapauselouca @vvsdreaming

[writing-for-life]

I feel so honoured!

It is the unbearable pull in two directions: Thinker, Deep Psychologiser and Philosophiser, and Queen of the Sparkle Content Realms.

We’re all vaguely sauntering downwards…

me trying to get into heaven:

god:

[throwingbread]

Fandom needs less “Hob enjoys perfect health forever” and more “Hob has has caught and died of every disease ever and now he’s developed his own personal rating system for how much they suck.”

[thoughtsfromlayla]

For you ♡

[zzoomacroom]

Hob: So in the Dreaming, for currency do you use--

Dream: Don't say it.

Hob: --SAND DOLLARS??

Dream: You know what, I changed my mind we're not friends actually