teejaystumbles
Promises and Left Behinds
call me TeeJay - they/them - 30+ -🥄- hobby artist and illustrator who mostly draws a webcomic called "Behind the Obsidian Mirror". This blog is for fandom stuff and things that visually impress and inspire me. Main fandom atm: The Sandman
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every gay friend group has: the repressed academic, the ska loving "brawn", the formerly mean girl psychic, the match making anime fan, the astrology lover, the lesbian butcher/reluctant big sister, the sexy cat with nine lives, the walrus who runs a magic shop and the local witch who wants to kill everyone
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Truly think Death knows about the Edwin and Charles she just lets them be because they make her job easier by skirting around the bureaucratic nightmare the afterlife has become.
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Dead Boy Detectives is great but you know the best thing? What I think is the coolest thing they did?!!
SPOILER for episode 7 under the cut!! I warned you!
YES YES YES DESPAIR'S REALM!!!!!!!! Despair talking to Edwin! Despair calling Edwin her friend!!! That she'll call on him if she needs him!!!!
I'm having a lot of emotions about that!!!
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i wish birds brought ME presents
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Spare ticket for Ferdie play!!!
Ferdie is sad because I have a spare ticket for his play TOMORROW SATURDAY 27TH APRIL and no one wants it!
Can you make Ferdie happy by getting to London tomorrow to see his play with three other Ferdie fans??? Tickets are row D stalls and I am open to discussing payment options.
Quickest way to contact me is on Discord - xxmalloryxx or in the Mr Sadman server
Please reblog to make Ferdie smile!
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the dead boy/ sandman universe has such insane cat lore and I love it
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edwin's IMMEDIATE glance at charles was so fucking funny helpkhjfsdgkhjfdf
+ bonus bc im losing my minndddddd lmaooo
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Me while editing: *adds a sentence*
*finds nearly identical sentence in the next paragraph*
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He did not just fucking do this to us
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oooh look at these cuties! they're lovely!! 🥰I've never worked with that thick yarn before, I keep seeing it but haven't tried it :3
I have only done dolls and amigurumi with thin cotton wool and doing the tight stitches can hurt pretty badly after a while 😅 but it's worth it! but that's one reason I haven't done another doll yet, lol
I also remembered that I have done two crochet pullovers as well!
I love the versatility in crochet, the way you can actually create a thing with a shape out of nothing but a string of yarn, and I bet knitting offers a lot of that too, but if I make a mistake I can't erase it as easily as when I crochet so it's still my favourite craft :)
thank you for showing me your stuff! <3
The fact you crochet is so cool to know (a fellow yarn user who loves your blog)
I do!! Hello fellow yan lover!! 🥰I started with knitting but never knitted much in my life except a few scarfs and hats, then I discovered crochet and it's way easier for me to handle one needle than two! so I prefer it!
here are some crochet things I did haha you'll forgive my enthusiasm 😅
I've also done a few more scarfs and amigurumi figures, and a T-shirt, and am currently working on a cardigan both for me and for my daughter :3
I also want to use a fairy pattern (with very long thin limbs) I bought to make Dream and Daniel puppets 🤩 one day...
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Get attacked!! ✨🌈SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING🌈✨
I'M FEELING SO ATTACKED RIGHT NOW
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We could be beautiful.
#oh oh damn#feels I forgot are reawakened#tensimm was the best#honestly master/doctor is my weakness#and those two especially#david tennant#john simm#doctor who
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the hold this man has on me | via Almeida Theatre Instagram
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The self-proclaimed Demon King Elios when he isn't a dog thing.
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this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way
(season of mists spoilers)
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It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough.
He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory.
“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again.
“Hob?”
Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.”
“You were calling for me?”
“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”
Morpheus sends him a withering look.
“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”
“It was.”
He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”
Morpheus nods solemnly.
“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”
“Yes. And no.”
“Great. Fab.”
“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”
“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”
Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.
“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”
“What?”
“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”
Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end.
“So… it is related?”
“Perhaps.”
“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette.
“Show me?”
“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned.
Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”
“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”
“I see.”
“Why are they here?”
“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”
“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”
“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”
“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”
Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know.
“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”
There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.
“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.”
“They are causing no harm.”
“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”
“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”
“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”
“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”
“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”
Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly.
“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”
“Precisely.”
“But the boys… aren’t devils?”
“They are not.”
“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”
Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”
“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.”
“You are under no obligations.”
“Oh.”
“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”
“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.
“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.”
“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”
“You cannot save them, Hob.”
“Why not?”
“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.”
“Says who?”
“The universe. Death, herself.”
Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”
And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile.
“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”
“Hob.”
“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”
“I have meetings to attend to.”
“That’s not a no.”
“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”
“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”
“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”
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