sleepsonfutons
sleepsonfutons
Here I plaster my internet wall space with the things I find!
Currently consumed by the Witcher and the Sandman fandoms.
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Dream has been hearing rumors (those biddies love to gossip about Dream's family) that Orpheus has gotten into an inappropriate relationship. Something, something "sugar baby", something, something f*cking an older man.
Dream doesn't want to interfere in Orpheus's life, but the Endless family, and Dream himself, have money, not as much as in their storied past, but enough that Orpheus doesn't have to whore out his young ass for money.
Dream isn't even judging, he just want his son not to make mistakes similar to the ones that Dream made in his youth. Dream knows how seductive those older men can be....hell Dream is still young himself (not a twink anymore certainly, but Dream had Orpheus young, so he doesn't look like the father of a college student.).
Suffice to say, Dream learns the name of the man supposedly paying for Orpheus's ass and goes to see him, maybe he can warn him off Orpheus. R. Gadling has something like 10 or 15 years on Dream, hopefully Dream can get him to see reason.
💶 💶 💶 💶 💶
Hob would have liked it to be known, if he was interested in talking to those judgmental society b*tches, that he does not need to pay a young man for sex. Thank you very much. He might like to take care of his lovers, but so far he draws the line at 30-year age differences. He is not that much of a creeper.
Orpheus is a fantastic young man, a musical prodigy, and Hob knows some people in the industry. All he did was offer introductions, that Orpheus, with his gift, would have most likely developed on his own, in time. He is not sleeping with a boy young enough to be his son,,,his son Robin introduced them for goodness sake!
When Orpheus's father comes to Hob is high dungeon, judgingly talking about inappropriate relationships and all but screaming at Hob, in his beautiful deep voice, for Hob to stop sleeping with his son -- Hob might have fallen in love on the spot. Blush high on his cheeks, hair a mess, looking like he just woke up from a good f*ck, Hob wanted to bite.
And mess with him a little,,,,,Hob offered (jokingly he thought) to stop sleeping with Orpheus if his father took his place in Hob's bed. He was expecting more yelling, not Morpheus Endless to say yes on the spot.
Oh Dream...... you poor little horny idiot. Trying so hard to be the best dad, but Orpheus is cringing SO hard.
Hob really was joking about exchanging Orpheus for Morpheus, and then Dream goes ahead and looks so sincere and so sexy... but Hob isn't a bad person (not anymore) so he sighs and explains that it was a joke. He's not fucking anyone right now, especially not Dream’s kid. He is in fact in the middle of a very long dry spell, and yes he might be going into too much detail now but at least Morpheus looks like he believes him. He sighs and smoothes down his hair and Hob is almost disappointed to see that anger fade away. Morpheus does at least blush prettily and say "call me Dream", so that's. A nice development.
And then Dream asks if Hob was joking about wanting to sleep with him, and if he thinks that Dream is too old to be a sugarbaby? Because he'd actually be willing to give it a try... And he says it in this teasing, flirty way that goes right to Hob’s dick. He's desperately hoping that his dryspell might finally be over. But he's going to have to pull out all the stops and really woo this delicious man.
Before Dream knows it, he's being whisked off to Hob’s box at the opera for a night of champagne and beautiful music. Hob explains that he doesn't take just anyone up to his box - only pretty boys that he really wants to spoil. Dream nearly melts into a puddle over being called a "boy". And yes, he's still relieved when Hob confirms that he never took Orpheus for a night at the opera.
Apparently Dream’s penchant for older guys really hasn't faded away, because he's getting butterflies whenever Hob puts a hand on his back to guide him, or orders their drinks with polite authority. If Orpheus was fucking Hob, then Dream would absolutely be fighting his own son tooth and nail over this man. Dream is embarrassed by his own horniness but not enough to stop - maybe he's doesn't actually need a sugar daddy, but he sure as hell WANTS this one <3
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I SEE YOU HAVE A TAKE ON MER HOB MAY I HEAR ABOUT MER HOB
YOU ABSOLUTELY MAY, even if it took me longer to respond than intended, oops. But! Mer-Hob is slowly turning into a different fic than originally imagined last year. Which is fine, and good, because what I'd originally imagined just wasn't working. I think I can confidently place him back on the wip list now with a better idea of the shape he'll have moving forward. And for you, thank you for your patience, here is their freshly-drafted first kiss scene:
"Dream?"
Dream glances to where Hob sits beside him, tail fin drifting idly in the water near Dream's bare feet. Dream had brought chocolate, again; the delight Hob had displayed the first two times was something he wanted to see again, and again, and again. He wanted to find every way possible to bring joy to Hob, to make that warm smile light up, to bring his laughter bubbling forth.
The chocolate has been finished, though, and Hob sounds…tentative; Dream's brow creases. "Yes?"
"I've got a question for you. Or. Well. Not so much a question, as something I'd like to tell you." He's tilted his head slightly, is toying with the lowest spine of his ear-fin. "It's. It's—I've been trying to tell you, like I would another mer, but I don't think you get it. And why would you, culturally, you've got no way to know if I don't explain it first right? So I thought, maybe I should just. Try it the human way?"
Dream is perplexed, not sure he entirely follows what Hob is trying to say, but then Hob is leaning closer, leaning in, as if he means to—
His lips touch Dream's, and Dream's heart stops as his brain catches up. Hob. Is kissing him—
Except it's not exactly a kiss, has none of the common elements aside from two pairs of lips in contact; Hob is very still, holding that touch for another instant, and then he pulls back.
Dream's heart thuds in his chest, tripping faster; he can feel how wide his eyes are and how his mouth has fallen slightly open, but all he can see is the hopeful uncertainty in the warm depthless brown of Hob's eyes.
"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right. But a kiss is how you say you like someone, right?"
"I. Yes." Dream is drowning in the instant-replay inside his own brain. Hob. Had kissed him. Hob had kissed him. Hob had kissed him—
"Well. I like you. And I think maybe…maybe you might um. Like me too?"
Dream manages a nod. "Mmhm." His heart is racing.
"Well!" Hob looks delighted if still nervous, and his tail flicks up in the water with a splash. "That's good, then! Brilliant! Okay!" He smiles, all warmth and happy energy. "Okay."
"Merfolk do not kiss, then?" Dream is slowly processing, still catching up, still circling helplessly around the bright spot of Hob kissed me, Hob LIKES me.
"Not many, nope. And I've never. But I've seen enough humans and human stuff to get the idea. Did I do it right?"
"Right enough. However." Boldness surges up in Dream, riding the bubbling tide of joy curling higher within his chest. "Can I. May I show you, what observation alone does not perhaps convey?"
"Of course," Hob says, curiosity in the tilt of his eyebrows, and Dream leans in.
It's soft, sweet; he fits his lips gently to Hob's and presses, brushes them together and apart and together again, aching with the fulfillment of this long-held wish. He is kissing. Hob. And Hob is kissing back, tentatively matching the movement of Dream's mouth on his, and Dream is dizzy with it. His hands yearn to hold, to touch; he brings one up and lets his fingertips flutter lightly to rest on Hob's cheek, away from the delicate spread of his ear-fin, away from the curve of his neck where his gills are tightly sealed. And when Hob reaches carefully to touch him in kind, Dream's heart soars.
A long moment passes before he ends the kiss at last; he draws back just enough to see, to watch Hob's eyes blink slowly open.
"Oh," Hob breathes, voice full of softness and wonder, and his beautiful eyes shine warm with the same.
~
Mer-Hob wip tag for the other recent chunk and some older little bits that may just wind up orphaned
#*biting my hanky and squealing*#hnnnnnnng you're killing me TJ!! /positive#omgomgomg#THEY KITH#mer!hob#human!dream#Dreamling#dream x hob#the sandman fanfic#fic rec#fic wip
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popping my head in to ask about Mer Hob 👀 from the WIP title ask game
Finally popping my head back up to answer, my apologies for the wait! Mer-Hob came out of server conversations about mer-Dreamling fish assignments and aquatic mating displays, but he kind of fizzled out with the scene I tried to write. Dusting him off for this, though, I think I can breathe the spark back into it. Take it past where I meant to before, so it will have a more satisfactory conclusion. I have scrapped the lackluster 'how did they meet' that was stalling me out and given them new backstory and now I'm unsure how exactly I want to structure this. Start where I've started and then jump back to the meeting, then bring them back to the present? Make the backstory a separate fic? Rearrange the whole thing chronologically, which would require a lot of rework and shortening of the current opening bit? IDK but I'll figure it out. In the meantime, here is a chunky chunk of drafting for their meet-cute (sfw but cut for length):
Dream is not surprised to find a waterline-level cave out on the rock formation in the bay, on the side not visible from shore. Nor is he overly surprised to find someone stretched out in the handsbreadth of water covering the floor with their eyes closed, as the morning light fills the first several feet of the cave brightly in a way that is conducive to sunbathing.
The fact that the sunbather has a bright orange tail with brilliant yellow fins and blue-black leopard-like spots is rather less expected, however, and Dream gasps his surprise.
The sound startles the man—the merman—surely not?—who sits bolt upright, eyes wide and panicking as he locks gazes with Dream not an arm's length away.
Dream's heart skips a beat. He's beautiful—
"Oh, fuck!" The merman—there is no other explanation, no mistaking the flurry of fins and scales as he moves—the merman twists and flops and dives past Dream, a less-than-graceful plunge off the rock and into the sea and then he is gone.
"Wait!" Dream cries, to the bright flick of yellow vanishing into the depths, but of course it is no use.
He could swim back to the boat, could don his diving gear and follow—but no. The merman is already gone, and will be more so by the time Dream could be equipped to give chase.
He swallows back his disappointment, his disbelief, and tells himself resolutely that he surely imagined the entire thing.
But he did not imagine it, he knows this; the knowledge lodges in his mind, burrows down into his consciousness and curls around his common sense, stokes his curiosity.
He saw a merman.
Merpeople do not exist.
But he saw one.
He returns the next day, hoping perhaps to repeat the discovery, but he is the only visitor to the cave in the hours that he spends there. When the tide has gone out and come back in, high enough once more to cover the floor of the cave, when he has spent all day waiting with nothing to show for it, he admits defeat and swims back to his boat.
He returns again, and again, later each day with the drift of the tide, diving to explore beneath the surface when the cave remains empty. He finds nothing of note, nothing to hint at the existence of merfolk, nothing at all out of the ordinary; by day six, he is trying to convince himself to make peace with the likelihood that he will never find any trace of the merman he knows he had seen.
On day seven, the merman is back, sunbathing at the front of the cave again.
Only this time, he has human legs, is wearing swim trunks, is sitting further away from where Dream is treading water, stunned.
"…Hello," Dream manages.
"Hi," the man says, warmly polite. He is cross-legged with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them, one hand holding the other wrist; he is meant to look casual and relaxed, Dream is certain, but the tension and the nervousness coming off of him are palpable.
He is still beautiful.
"You're. I saw you here, before?" His thoughts are still trying to catch up; he hoists himself into the cave, doesn't move closer.
The man's shoulders drop a tiny fraction. "Yeah, yep! Startled me good, you did!" He chuckles lightly, a carefree and casual sound; the fingers of his dangling hand wriggle, a nervous and distracted sort of gesture that draws Dream's attention to the profusion of hair on his bare legs, and arms, and what Dream can see of his chest.
"You had a. A tail, last time," Dream says, somewhat awkwardly, tearing his gaze from the sprinkling of hair on the man's bare toes.
"Oh, that, yes!" The man grins, bright and disarming. "I'm a mermaid performer, with the, ah, the local carnival."
Dream is convinced this is a lie even as the logical part of his brain points out that this explanation makes far more sense than believing in merfolk. He knows what he saw, the flexing of muscle and the fanning of fins, the bending and twisting that did not match up to the way that human legs would move in that configuration. The merman speaks with casual confidence, but the tension in his frame and the nervous fidget of his clasped hand are easy to read.
"…No, I don't think you are," Dream says, and the man's bright smile dips before returning to full wattage.
"Calling me a liar, are you?" He laughs, a light and enchanting sound that Dream immediately wants to hear more of. "Merfolk, they don't actually exist, I'll have you know."
~
The wip tag has a tiiiny bit more of this one, also.
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top/bottom discourse and dom/sub truthers this and that, none of that can touch me because i headcanon them as vers and switch and whatever is best for the bit and therefore always win. look at all the beauty in the world
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Y'all, the world is sleeping on what NASA just pulled off with Voyager 1
The probe has been sending gibberish science data back to Earth, and scientists feared it was just the probe finally dying. You know, after working for 50 GODDAMN YEARS and LEAVING THE GODDAMN SOLAR SYSTEM and STILL CHURNING OUT GODDAMN DATA.
So they analyzed the gibberish and realized that in it was a total readout of EVERYTHING ON THE PROBE. Data, the programming, hardware specs and status, everything. They realized that one of the chips was malfunctioning.
So what do you do when your probe is 22 Billion km away and needs a fix? Why, you just REPROGRAM THAT ENTIRE GODDAMN THING. Told it to avoid the bad chip, store the data elsewhere.
Sent the new code on April 18th. Got a response on April 20th - yeah, it's so far away that it took that long just to transmit.
And the probe is working again.
From a programmer's perspective, that may be the most fucking impressive thing I have ever heard.
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. 𝓟𝓪𝓾𝓵 𝓜𝓾𝓪𝓭'𝓭𝓲𝓫 𝓐𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼 ⋆ 𝓓𝓾𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓐𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓼
...painting illustration study of my favorite feral goth space desert rat Paul Atreides
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I like Dune: Part 2
PRINTS
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Voice of the Outer World
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Beware the false savior
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my heart calls for arrakis
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@just-prime
some Dreamling - Malevolent edition. I've finally listened to the last season finale (episodes 40 part 1+2), hoo boy. I needed to draw this :3
there are a few more scenes that make me itch to draw, but we'll see
#ooooh i know nothing of malevolent#but i am here for these immaculate vibes!!#the sandman#the sandman fanart#dreamling#malevolent#malevolent spoilers#??#dream x hob#hob gadling#dream#dream of the endless
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Tom Sturridge at Comic Con Holland '24
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this may or may not be a fantasy writing exercise for me. please reblog
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My favorite mermaid art is the one of a family photo with a mermaid mother and old sailor father and their sons are both reverse merfolk (human legs with fish heads).
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Goldcrest/kungsfågel. Värmland, Sweden (April 11, 2021).
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Hob hates changing lives.
He tells himself he likes it, a year or so in. He tells himself he enjoys the variety, the meeting new people, and seeing new sights. And he does. Just . . . not now. Now when he's still mourning his old life.
He sits on the couch—a new one, not the one that's formed to him over the last twenty years—and sighs as he stares at the few boxes he was able to bring with him. The small flat in Cardiff was fine, arguably lovely, in fact. He's been excited about it when he's first done the paperwork, and there's a distant part of himself that's still excited. But as he looks up at the unfamiliar walls and listens to the unfamiliar sounds of the street and city below, Hob can't help but feel trapped.
He can't go back. Not for a while. Not until he's forgotten in people's minds. He won't see the New Inn again or any of his friends from KCL or the Chens who knew his order by heart because he couldn't go more than two weeks without craving their food.
Robert Golding was gone to the world. Now he's just Rob Garroway—a nobody who lives in Cardiff who does . . . something. Hob hasn't actually gotten that far into figuring out what job he'll pick up this go-around. Maybe he'll try his hand at writing something other than historical essays for the university. Or maybe he'll buy a boat and become a fisherman. Lots of choices. All of them too overwhelming to even think about.
He collapses into the still-to-firm couch and tosses his arm over his eyes. The day is still young—its barely past one in the afternoon—and already he's exhausted. He can feel that familiar weight settling into his bones, holding him close to the earth. He doesn't even know any good take-out joints yet because Lord knows he won't have any energy to cook for the next week. Or two. Or more.
A problem for future him. For now, Hob turns into the back of the couch, face hidden from the sun and the foreign place he now calls home, closes his eyes, and sleeps.
#i'm not crying you are#hnnnnnnnng#the feels!#the SOMFT!!#*gnashes my teeth*#FRIGGIN LOVE THISSSSS#fic rec#dreamling#dream x hob#dream#dream of the endless#hob gadling#the sandman#the sandman fanfic
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