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a place for dreaming

#catblr #art

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Brick by Brick

Dream is not accustomed to being treated with patience.

Those who claim to love him are not shy in only loving the parts they cannot see, the parts they assume. He is cold and aloof and guarded and they do not want those parts of him but that’s okay because surely there is more underneath, surely he is hiding something better. They do not love the locked chest, they love the treasure they assume must be held within it, and they want him to give it to them right now. They fight him for it.

Don’t be so guarded, they say, and they come at him with a pickax.

Open up, they say, crowbar already jammed in a crevice.

And it is terrifying, in a way he would never admit to anyone, can barely admit to himself. He is armor and walls and closed doors and no one loves that part of him, and Dream wonders if there even is anything else, maybe that is all he is, all the way down, an empty chest, walls around a barren field, hollow armor, and it is terrifying to think of the ones he loves (love wholly, loves every part of) ripping him apart just to discover that there is nothing lovable among the rubble.

So Dream closes himself tighter, because he does not think there is a treasure inside him, and so when will they stop? They scrape and break and tear at the shell of him, and he thinks that if they do not find what they want they will just keep going- shatter the armor and then the person underneath without slowing down.

They are determined to break through his walls, even if that means breaking him in the process.

Open up, they say, and they do not knock.

Well. Hob knocks.

But Dream can’t recognize it, just hears a thud against his protections and flinches. Hob says “I think you’re lonely” but all Dream hears is “I will love you with my fists. If you loved me back you’d let me hit something soft”.

So he hits back. Lets the gates slam shut and runs and runs and runs, Hob pounding on the door behind him.

When he is trapped in Fawney Rig, it only seems to prove him right. Cut off from his power, from his home, his purpose, himself, he feels hollow. Scraped out and empty, and he holds fast against Burgess, makes his walls impenetrable even as he realizes there is nothing there to protect. He escapes and finds his home, himself, decayed and rotting and wonders if it has been like this from the beginning. He hunts down the missing pieces of himself, the fragments that feel next to nothing now, thinks that he is next to nothing, just crumbling walls and battered doors and locks damaged from all the people who would rather break them than ask for a key.

Dream sits before Hob, and feels himself settle somewhere between peace and resignation.

Still guarded. Still locked. Still hollow. Worn down and weak, one hit to his defenses and he will crumple, and no one ever hits just once.

Hob smiles at him. Hob offers him food and drink. Hob tells him of all that he has missed in the past century, laughs and gestures enthusiastically, and never once demands, never once pushes or pulls or pries and it is enough for Dream to want to weep with gratitude.

And then, to his confusion and surprise and utter awe, Hob begins to help him rebuild.

They see each other more often, their centennial pattern broken and their friendship declared. Sometimes Dream feels cracked and raw and Hob catches glimpses of his vulnerability, but instead of taking advantage of the openings, he shields them. Dream’s voice cracks when he tries to explain where he’s been, and Hob jumps to make him tea, bustling in the kitchen and chattering about nothing, still there with him but looking away while Dream pulls himself together. Dream’s eyes well with tears the first time Hob tells him he loves him, and Hob smiles and kisses his forehead, says “it’s getting late, shall we talk more tomorrow?” and lets him leave without running away. Dream’s hands shake when he tries to take his clothes off for him, and Hob kisses his fingers and wraps him in blankets until only his face is showing, laughing lightly and talking about the coldest places he’s traveled.

Dream rebuilds his walls and Hob hands him the mortar. Dream barricades the door to his heart and Hob happily sits and calls out his love from the other side.

Hob makes him feel strong. Hob loves Dream, and he loves his walls, his doors, his locks, his armor, too.

And that is precisely the reason Dream invites him in.

#dreamling #the sandman #fic rec

[valiantstarlights]

Miss this

#corintheus #the sandman #the sandman art

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smack

#catblr

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courtly love

prints now available!

#dreamling #the sandman #the sandman art

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Your daily dose of spooky posts

#spooky season #catblr

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Happiness Will Come To You.

#reblog

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Fucking Rain.

#dreamling #the sandman #the sandman art

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How did you find me?

#dreamling #the sandman #the sandman art

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The Knight of Dreams.

Maybe it was medieval AU？

Or maybe it's a knighthood for Hob，From Dream . hhh

#dreamling #the sandman #the sandman art

[valiantstarlights]

Poetry Comics Month is almost here!

Throughout November I’ll share a new poetry comic daily, including guest posts from other great cartoonists. Make your own poetry comics and share them with the tag #poetrycomicsmonth. I’ll post reader submissions toward the end of November.

My upcoming book, POETRY COMICS, is now available for pre-order wherever you get your books.

#art #poetry #catblr

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Elend Venture, Reading at the Ball by Rachel J Russon

#elend venture #mistborn #brandon sanderson #art

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POV: Your Master's thesis on the quantum mechanics of space cat is due in an hour but it's also nap time. 

#catblr #art

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shitty little sketch

#my chemical romance #art

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Twitter | Instagram

#dream of the endless #the corinthian #the sandman #the sandman art

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Here’s the full 24 hour comic I drew yesterday, called “The Fish Wife”.  Thank you to everybody who followed along on twitter and cheered me on <3

PS: if you liked this, there’s a whole book of these comics now!

#art #webcomic

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Morpheus

#dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman art