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chaosheadspace · 3 months

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A little birthday gift for @seiya-starsniper. May your new year of life be full of happiness and joy! Also tagging @ginoeh, because the start of this is technically me misinterpreting one of her prompts, lol.

Without further ado, have some Dream raiding Hob's dreams post-fishbowl.

Stars twinkle through the window as Hob stands in his kitchen and cooks. It is late, but he is hungry, having forgotten the time grading. He’s got a day off tomorrow though, and so he is making himself a rather elaborate feast, because he feels like it. Because he can.

The light summer breeze coming through the window stirs the various smells about, sauteed onion and tomatoes and beef, spices and fat and broth, warm milk for hot chocolate and the dense, syrupy sweetness of baking apples. He’s never been good at moderation, least of all with food. Sue him. There’s a few candles burning on his kitchen table, decked out with earthenware, and through the speakers of his radio is playing a song he’s quite convinced he’s heard some time in the seventeenth century. It’s really crazy what musicians nowadays dig back up and incorporate into their music.

Just as he stirs the pumpkin soup bubbling on the back burner, there’s a low sound behind him. Hob turns, the dripping spoon still in his hand. “Oh,” he blurts out, “I am dreaming.”

Because there, in front of him, stands his stranger, who snubbed him at their last appointment, who he hasn’t seen in much longer than a hundred years. Who definitely, positively, has deep, black pits for eyes, who looks even more gaunt than usual, malnourished, even, and who is absolutely bang naked. He has to be dreaming. The music suddenly makes a lot more sense. The dishware, too, really.

“You are,” his stranger says, and even his voice is different, cavernous, deep and soft like his eyes.

“You’re welcome here, regardless,” Hob tells him. “You can have a shirt and sweats from me, if you want. Soup will be ready in just a tick.” He can see him swallow, hard, the movement of his Adam's apple on his slim neck stark.

“Very well,” he says, turning away. “See that it is.”

When he comes back, he’s wearing one of Hob’s old band shirts that’s somehow black now, and a pair of pajama pants with little yellow stars on them. Hob smiles, motions for him to sit down, and puts a bowl of the promised soup in front of him, steaming and fragrant, spiced with curry and nutmeg and roasted sesame seeds.

His friend wastes no time, forgoes the spoon entirely and lifts the bowl to his face to drink, his bony fingers clutching the glazed dish tight, uncaring about its heat. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t breathe until the heavy bowl is empty. Then he holds it out to Hob, the rim clutched between three fingers as if it weighs nothing. “More,” he demands, and Hob obliges.

This goes on four more times, and then the pot is empty. Next Hob serves up venison pasties, and he’s more than a little smug as his stranger devours the first one in just three bites, but Hob figures he’s allowed. “They’re good, right?” he says. His friend just glowers at him and reaches for the next one. When the pasties are gone, there’s dumplings and omelette and the apple pie.

It all vanishes, piece by piece, bit by bit, bite for bite, into his stranger. Afterwards, they look at each other in silence, Hob stunned at the speed it all vanished, his stranger apologetic for some reason. Then the silence is cut by the rather loudly growling stomach of his friend.

“I. uhm. I could make you some pasta?” Hob offers. “Maybe some pudding, too, let’s see…”

“No,” he’s interrupted just as he gets up. “I am afraid I have to hurry. There are things I have to tend to rather urgently. I thank you for being so hospitable.”

Suddenly they are standing in the doorway again, from one second to the next, Hob blinking up confusedly intovast, starlit eyes. They’re close, closer than they’ve ever been. There is no warmth emanating from his stranger, just a heavy, almost humming sense of presence that draws Hob in.

“Do you have to go?” He pleads. “Maybe I could—”

“I am afraid I cannot delay my task any further, Hob.” His stranger shakes his head. “I thank you for this.”

“Wait,” Hob says, desperately. “This is a dream, right?”

His stranger turns back around, the look on his face incredulous. “Yes,” he confirms for the second time, “it is.”

“So there’s no harm in doing this then,” Hob murmurs, stepping closer, gently placing one hand upon a lily-white neck. His friend shivers. Hob gets up on his toes and slowly, gently kisses his brow. “I hope you fare well,” he whispers, “and I will not give up hope to see you again when I am awake.”

From one moment to the next, Hob is alone. There is a relieving sense of loss in him, like a splinter being drawn from a wound.

Hob wakes.

#chaosheadspace's writing #Dream of the Endless #Hob gadling #Dreamling if you squint #the sandman

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honeyteacakes · 1 year

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Ten Books to Know Me Better

Tagged by my beloved wife @immacaria <3

Rules: Name 10 books for people to know you better or that you really like.

This one was actually so difficult for me to do. There's so many books that I love, and I had a hard time choosing which ones to list- especially since I haven't been a frequent reader in a long time. I'm working on getting back into the habit, though, so hopefully this will inspire me to keep attacking my To-Read book pile!

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

My favorite YA series. I was obsessed with it during my senior year of high school, and I reread the books while in college. I should probably reread the whole series again. It helped me process a lot as I was striking out on my own.

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

One of my best friends in high school recommended the book to me and I LOVED it. We used to talk about it together all the time, and it's definitely a comfort book for me. She and I were So Excited when the TV series was made. I should probably text her again so we can fangirl about the upcoming second season for old times' sake.

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy

One of my absolute favorite novels. It's got some uncomfortable old-timey bigotry, but the main plot is to DIE for. It's one of the original, if not the original, masked vigilante stories told in English.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

@immacaria and I happen to have this favorite in common. There's something so electric and compelling in Adam's grief and growth over the course of the novel, and the gay little interludes from the ship captain make me giggle. (Yes I'm absolutely convinced that the captain had an unhealthy crush on the grimy half-dead Frankenstein. He had terrible taste but I love him as a narrator anyways.)

Carmilla by J. Sheridan Le Fanu

This one is also a semi-regular reread. I think it might be because (1) I love spooky stories (2) I love women. It's novella length, so it's not too difficult to get through if you have free time and are looking for a fun gothic story. Yes, I understand the author was likely using the Fear of Female Homosexuality in the story, however as a Queer I choose to instead read it as a fucked up little crush that my favorite murder princess has on our darling Laura. I think more women need obsessive vampire girlfriends.

After Virtue by Alasdair MacIntyre

Time to shamefully remind everyone that I read a lot of philosophy shit in college. It's terrible writing stylistically. It makes you want to tear your hair out. Unfortunately, the book's main argument fucks like a champion. It's essentially a history of western moral philosophy, and an exploration about how the chronology of western philosophy affects the language we use to describe morality, and how the language we've developed creates problems for contemporary moral discourse. Again, it's written like the author wants you to throw yourself into traffic, but the book literally changed how I understand my own morality. If anyone wants to talk about this book without having to inflict its Horrors on themself, I'm your gal.

Broken Harbor by Tana French

One of the best, if not *the* best, murder mystery novels that I've ever read. I don't want to give the plot away, but I'd recommend this book to anyone who likes the murder/mystery/suspense genres.

The Sentence by Louise Erdrich

This book is absolutely incredible. It's a ghost story, and a story about self growth, and about running a book shop, and defining yourself, and about the violent colonization of the United States told by a cool and charismatic narrator working at an indie book shop and trying to navigate the Covid pandemic and BLM movement. It's timely; it's fresh; and the plot absolutely FUCKS. I wanted to reread this book immediately after I was done with it.

Style: Lessons in Clarity and Grace by Joseph M. Williams

This isn't a book I'm listing for itself so much as I'm listing it out of nostalgia. This is a book that my favorite English teacher used to instruct our classes. He was an excellent teacher and an all around cool guy. I feel like being in his class taught me a lot, not just about English but about what I wanted to do and who I wanted to try to be. I don't think I would have studied English in college if he hadn't taught me and mentored me in high school.

Instead of a tenth book, which I've been agonizing over choosing, I'm going to request book recommendations. It was difficult for me to think of books that I've felt strongly about because I used up all my energy reading course books for uni, so making this list helped me realize just how disconnected I've felt from so much of the stuff I've studied for the past few years. I'd love recommendations of any kind from anyone, just so I can add more fun/interesting/etc. titles to my to-read list to motivate myself to get back into reading as a hobby.

Tagging: @chaosheadspace ; @quillingwords ; @academicblorbo ; @moorishflower ; @mathomhouse-e ; @gabessquishytum ; @issylra

#quilling i have a friend crush on u just fyi #also moorishflower ik we don't speak you just seem like someone who reads really good books so I have Tagged You #gabe u write a lot and ik we don't speak but your writing makes me curious abt ur reading #vicky you seem like u know Many Things so you have been tagged as well. tell me of ur Books #mathomhouse ily and we don't talk directly much but i'm curious abt ur reading also #chaosheadspace u just give me vibes and so i also am curious what u read #issylra we also don't talk much but i love everything u write and also ur vibes so i just tag u in games all the time lol #honey speaks #tag games

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localcanadiancryptid22 · 3 months

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New tag game: Show me y'all's fucking open tabs (four of them) and the last three things y'all googled. Me first :3. (Because i'm bored as fuck).

Last 3 things i googled:

Ao3

Pop off meaning

Were edric and emira in labyrinth runners

My four open tabs:

Zoophobia comic plot

Our trolls are different tv tropes page

Why is deadpool immortal

Cinco de mayo celebration

@mustard-ketchh-tomatosauce @angst-is-love-angst-is-life @goblinofthelaboratory @i-eat-grease @zegalba @gravemud @star01007 @expressingexperience @wildemaven @selfproclaimedunicorn @vixstarria @sommerregenjuniluft @kuroashims @pizza-feverdream @wildelydawn @chaosheadspace @egg-baby-official @morguemaw @glitchysquidd @rootbeer-queer @nova-raptor @funky-frankie @amethyst-aster @theninjabozo @an-adhd-infested-nerd and anyone else who wants to join. good god this took a while.

#lmao #fave #new tag game #tag chain #tag game #tag games #my posts #i'm bored lol #tagging game #tagging games #tag meme #reblog game

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amielot · 2 months

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✨Last Line Tag Game!✨

@linddzz and @tharkuun tagged me! Thank yah!!!!!!

Heres a horse girl preview :)

in addition, I went unhinged on the sadman discord server and drew Cow Hob and Cat Dream inspired by Gabe’s cat/cow fic. i think on like feb 13th or something.

So uh.... Y’all want a nsfw cat/cow post?

tagging hmmm @pellaaearien @delta-pavonis @landwriter @five-and-dimes @chaosheadspace @lutheban @teejaystumbles and literally anyone else! go for it!

#i also have drawings of sphynx hob i need to compile #which is from moorishflower's fic #shwoooo #oops #i think i drew the cat/cow back on feb 13th #i drew sphynx hob sometime around christmas #theres a lot of art i gotta just wrangle together and post lol.#ive decided to be completely unhinged on main #like i wasnt already

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notallsandmen · 10 months

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The Honk Zone Presents: Absurdist Sandman AUs

Dreamling, but no one likes hair pulling or has a praise kink AU

Hob is just so so on living AU

Witchfinder General Hob AU

Dream, but when Hob calls him a friend he's just like "ok bestie" AU

Dream is a neurotypical extrovert AU

Dream does Eat Pray Love after Calliope divorces him AU

Commitmentphobe Orpheus AU

Incel Basement Dweller Orpheus AU

Death makes time for her siblings AU

True Crime Wine Mom Dream AU

Flat Earther Dream AU

Disney Live Action Sequel Enjoyer Dream AU

Agony Aunt Columnist Destiny AU

Live Laugh Love Author Despair AU

Couple’s Counselor Desire AU

Marie Kondo Organizer Delirium AU

Dreaming Union Leader Mervyn AU

Agoraphobic Destruction AU

Hitchcock’s The Birds (but it's all just Jessamy and Matthew) AU

Anger Management therapist Lyta Hall AU

The Corinthian Ken Barbie AU

Instagram Influencer John Dee AU

Destiny’s Wet Hot Summer AU

Made by myself and @chaosheadspace @ml-nolan @chaosclimber , @beatnikfreakiswriting

#the sandman #neil gaiman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #death of the endless #destiny of the endless #delirium of the endless #destruction of the endless #despair of the endless #desire of the endless #Lyta Hall #orpheus #the sandman comics #John Dee

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ginoeh · 3 months

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medieval archer hob smut?????????????

And for @chaosheadspace as well! I hope the friend you're asking for enjoys this...

Anyway. How am I not surprised I get asked about this one lol. This is a oneshot idea that got born when I accidentially started a conversation about archery and bows in the server. you might remember. possibly.

This is a shameless excuse to write even more shameless smut. (This is your only cw for this post - not nsfw yet)

***

The coronation of a new king is upon the land. Prince Morpheus, soon to be Monarch of the Sleeping Marches, along with more titles than impoverished Sir Hob can possibly remember, has called for a tournament. A simple archer's battle, the Prince has commanded, to let each village and be it yet the tiniest one, have a chance to take part and gain riches: a score years and five without taxes, and enough grains from the royal storehouse to plant their fields with. It is an unheard of favour and the whole country is awash with contestants traveling to the capital for their hometown's fortune.

Hob is the best - and only - archer his village has to send. And the favour he wants to gain supersedes the promised material security his win would promise.

He has seen the Prince, a long time ago, has traveled in his entourage once and laid game at his feet for his pleasure. He can still feel the heat his Prince's eyes had left on his skin when Hob had presented him with the carcass of a full-bodied doe; remembers well the way his eyes had darkened when Hob had come to stand before him, linen tunic long since shucked off in the summer's haze.

Hob knows which prize he wants.

(sordid details under the cut XD)

***

Hob unwinds the favour from his bow. The black silk slips through his fingers like water and catches on his callouses. He wonders if the Prince's skin will feel like that - smooth and cool, soft, pale like milk. He glances over to his Prince where he lounges at the table, thrown nearly indolently across a much too ornately carved chair.

“Will you not come closer, my favoured?” Amusement curls his future King's lips. He twirls the stem of his wineglass between elegant fingers before he sets it next to a vase of rich red roses.

Hob leans his bow against the wall and pulls the door closed behind him.

“If you wish it, my Lord. I am yours to command, after all.”

Prince Morpheus smiles. “Is that so, Sir Gadling?”

On the other hand, maybe the Prince's skin would be warm and slick underneath his hands, beads of salty sweat refracting the glow of candlelight in the dark. Hob would lick a path across unblemished skin, from navel to the pale chest and throat that tempt him so with their coy display from beneath loosely tailored robes.

Maybe the black silk would look good, drawn tight over the Prince's bony wrists.

“Take a seat,” Prince Morpheus says and leans forward. The collar of his robes falls open wider than should be decent. “Supp with me. And take the reward you fought for.”

Hob grips the band of silk tighter. ‘Later’, he thinks to himself, ‘Be careful, take your time.’

His Lord's eyes alight on Hob's hands where he strangles the favour, travel up his arm and biceps to feast upon his broad shoulders and chest. Hob feels a blush rise to his cheeks in the scorching gaze's wake.

The Prince licks his lips.

“We have the whole evening to ourselves, my favoured.” He gestures around himself and smiles from beneath dark lashes. “Enjoy whatever you wish, inside these walls.”

Hob unclasps his traveling cloak and loosens the tightly drawn strings of his chemise's collar before he takes a seat at the table. The spread is rich and worthy of a king, to be true, but his gaze doesn't stray from Prince Morpheus’ when he lays the black silk kerchief next to his plate and runs a finger along it slowly.

“Truly, I intend to, my Lord,” he says and chances a grin.

***

There's sensory deprivation, bound hands, a rose, bow similes and the like lol. The whole nsfw shebang with a bit of d/s undertones bc why not. Not like I've never written actual porn before or something. help how did i get to this point

As you were.

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #ginoeh writes

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bruce-wayne-simp · 4 months

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Based off of this ask for @gabessquishytum

Wanting, Kneading

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Dreamling (human au)

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless, Orpheus (mentioned)

Tagging: @valeriianz, @chaosheadspace, and @tj-dragonblade ❤️❤️

-> Ao3 Link <-

Dream thought hiring a private chef was a good idea. And it was. At first.

He had just gotten full custody of Orpheus and, after a few weeks of disastrous attempts at making dinner– which resulted in burnt food, dishes in the sink, and, ordering out– he had finally decided on a chef named Robert Gadling, or Hob, as he had enthusiastically insisted Dream call him upon their first meeting.

Dream had realized he was screwed when Hob's warm, brown eyes lit up the minute he saw Orpheus. Taking the four year old's tiny hand in his own to shake, and hanging on to every word that came out of his mouth, few that they were.

The fact that he was handsome, too, didn't help Dream's plight in the slightest.

Which is how he has currently found himself standing over the kitchen island with Hob, Orpheus at preschool, brownies cooling on the counter, learning how to knead bread dough.

"It's really quite simple actually." Hob starts as he clears the island. "A lot of people use stand mixers for it. Which is nice if you're in a rush, but I mean, people have been doing it this way for thousands of years, you know? Why change it up now? Besides, I like using my hands."

Hob directs Dream to stand across from him and starts explaining how to work the dough, but Dream is distracted. The other man's sleeves are pushed up, exposing his hairy, thick forearms. His muscles flex and move deliciously under the skin as he kneads the dough, his instructing voice weirdly soothing.

Dream startles as Hob plops the dough ball down in front of Dream. "Your turn."

Dream covers his hands in flour and tries desperately to scrounge up some recollection of what Hob had been doing, and clumsily tries to replicate it. Hob, for his part, is very patient with him, coaching him through it.

Dream huffs after his third failed attempt. "I can't do it."

"Nonsense. Of course you can." Hob smiles and steps around the table toward him.

Dream's breath hitches and he tenses, but forces himself to relax as Hob moves to stand behind him.

The other man gets close. Warm, strong hands grasp his, moving them in order to properly knead the dough.

"Don't be so gentle. You can be rough with it, it will be fine." Hob's breath is hot on his ear, sending chills down his spine, arousal starting to simmer in his belly.

Hob keeps moving their hands, pressing them together, his fingers interlocked with Dream's. He can feel Hob's calluses, rough on the back of his own hand.

Hob presses in even closer– oh fuck– nearly forcing Dream's body into the counter, Hob's chest meeting his back. He can feel the warmth of him through his shirt. His eyes flutter.

On the next downward motion, Dream pushes himself back and feels Hob's prick grind against his ass. He's hard. He hears a stuttering breath against his ear. Hob grinds back against him a bit.

"Dream." He breathes.

"Hob." It comes out as a whine.

"Fuck. Hold on." He lets go of one of Dream's hands to grab the kneaded dough off the counter and slam it back into the bowl with a metallic clang. "It needs to rest."

In one swift motion, Hob turns him around and slots their lips together, crowding him up against the counter. Dream feels dizzy as Hob's tongue enters his mouth. He moans, flour-covered hands moving up into Hob's hair, leaving streaks of white.

"Fuck, Dream." Hob gasps.

Dream grinds his hips against Hob's, making him groan. Hob's hands move to grab the underside of his thighs, hoisting him up so they can grind against each other. Dream's arousal turns sharper at the display of strength.

Dream pulls away and looks him in the eye. "Fuck me."

From his spot on the counter, he watches Hob's eyes darken. The fingers gripping his thighs tighten the slightest bit.

"Yes." Hob leans in and kisses him again, hands petting Dream's sides and hips. Hob tastes sweet, their tongues sliding against each other. Hob's hands slide up to slip underneath his shirt, Dream shudders as his hands stroke the sensitive skin of his belly.

"You're gorgeous." Hob's fingers are carding through his hair now. He tilts his head back and groans.

As Hob kisses him, he reaches around the other man's back to untie his apron. Hob pulls away from his mouth briefly to pull the strap over his head, and Dream tosses it across the kitchen. He returns to kissing Hob with a vengeance, pulling the other man close by his belt loops. Dream rolls his hips sharply, pulling a low groan from him. A thrill shudders through his spine at the sound.

Hob’s hands are under his shirt now, gripping his waist. His hands are slightly sticky from the dough, but Dream could not care less. He pushes his tongue into Hob’s mouth, tasting him.

He starts to unbutton Hob’s shirt, revealing thick, glorious, coarse, brown chest hair that he wants to bury his face in, though he settles for dragging his nails through it. Hob tugs at the edge of his shirt and Dream quickly pulls away to let him pull it up over his head, letting it fall to the floor.

Dream pushes his chest into Hob’s, rough hair tickling his own bare chest. They stay like that for a little bit, grinding slightly, teasing each other, breathing the same air. His eyes are warm, and fond.

God, he’s fucked.

Dream reaches up, slowly pushing the shirt off of Hob’s shoulders. They're broad, strong, dwarfing his own slight build. Hob kisses him again, this time trailing down to start kissing his neck. He tilts his head to the side, sighing at the rough feel of his stubble.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you, darling?” Hob gusts, breath hot against his neck.

“Yes, please.” Dream huffs a breath as Hob steps away for a second, opening a cabinet and grabbing the olive oil.

He sets it down on the counter, yanking Dream off, spinning him around and guiding him to bend over the counter with one strong hand on his back. The show of strength sets his stomach aflutter, anticipation and arousal melding together.

Strong arms encircle his waist as Hob reaches around him to undo his jeans, pulling them down to his thighs. He settles himself against the table as he hears Hob open the oil, soon feeling blunt, slick fingers at his hole.

Hob takes his time fingering him open, kissing anywhere he can reach and driving Dream crazy by switching between ignoring his prostate and steadily rubbing it until he’s begging.

“Fuck, Hob- please, please.” Hob gives him one final hard pass over his prostate, the pleasure zinging up his spine, making his eyes roll a little, before he pulls his fingers out. He strokes a soothing hand along Dream’s spine as he slicks himself up.

Dream groans out a, “Fuck.” As the head of Hob’s cock presses against his hole. Slowly, slowly, Hob slides in. The oil isn't quite as good as the lube he has upstairs, the stretch burning a bit, but it feels incredible, his legs trembling with it.

When Hob finally bottoms out, Dream is breathing hard, his every exhale tinged with a whine. He feels warm lips press against the nape of his neck, a quiet ‘shhh’ soothing him.

They stay like that for a while, Hob running his fingers through Dream's hair and whispering something that Dream can't focus enough to catch.

“Hob-” Dream whines. Hob runs his hands down Dream’s thighs, coming back up to settle at his waist.

“I’ve got you, love.” He pulls out slowly, cock dragging along his inner walls, before thrusting back in again, holding him in place, hips digging slightly into the counter’s edge.

Dream moans, breath hitching with every hard thrust. Hob’s cock is constantly sliding against his prostate, sending pleasure radiating throughout his body, through his abdomen, down to his toes.

Hob starts a fast rhythm, sending Dream higher and higher, the heat building in his belly at a fast pace.

A chocolatey scent fills his nose, and something small and warm is being pushed against his lips, “Open up, love.”

He does, and suddenly his senses are overwhelmed with rich chocolate. The overstimulation of his taste buds, mixed with the pleasure coursing through his body is nearly too much, he doesn't know which to focus on.

“Please, please.” He begs. Hob grabs his hips and somehow starts fucking him even faster.

“Come for me, darling. You can do it.” He pants, his thrusts starting to get erratic.

Dream keens, back arching. He scrabbles to grab ahold of something, anything. Hob’s hand finds his and he squeezes, surely nearly breaking it, as he screams his pleasure.

He feels the warmth of Hob spilling into him a few moments later. Hob leans heavily onto the counter over top of Dream as they come down.

After a few minutes, Hob starts to straighten up. Dream hisses as he pulls out, and Hob breathes a, “Sorry, love.”

They both stand and silently fix themselves up as best they can. Which isn't much, at least in Dream’s case, he has flour covering his chest and face. Irritatingly enough, Hob looks more put together, if a bit flushed. He chuckles at Dream’s scowl.

“Here.” Hob grabs a dish towel, wets it, and gets to work wiping Dream’s face. His index finger is curled under his chin, tilting it up, and Dream can't stop staring at his eyes, focused on his task.

Hob finishes wiping the flour off of his face, and moves down to his chest before he catches Dream staring at him, seeming to realize he may have overstepped. He freezes, face flushing.

“Uh- I. I think you've got that covered, I'll just- uh. Bathroom! I'll go wash and then, uh, start cleaning up in here.” He rushes off, muttering something about, ‘Going to have to bin those brownies.’

Then Dream is left standing dumbly in the middle of his kitchen, the memory of strong hands and warmth all over his body, holding a damp dish towel.

Shit.

Fin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus:

“Bin the ass brownies” - @seiya-starsniper 2024

#dreamling #dreamling fic #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my fic

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immacaria · 3 months

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Hob and Nightmare!Dream?👀

I think it was @chaosheadspace who sent a print about a grandma with bad eyesight who accidently summoned a demon and went on as if everything was normal despite something was clearly wrong. We talked about it happening with Hob and Nightmare!Dream and this happened:

The first time it happened, Hob didn't notice anything different. Well, truth to be told, he did notice something different. It was hard to miss a giant, black shape of something in the middle of your living room even with an eyesight as bad as Hob's. Hob had been crocheting a jacket for Ms Brown's grandson, Jake, when the thing appeared in his living room. The pattern wasn't even halfway done, but he could see why his neighbour had asked him to do this. Ms Brown, for more that Hob loved and cherished her, was involved in serious, problematic things and had a thing for involving him in them as well. The pattern was doubtful, to say the least, and Hob couldn't say he was surprised when this thing appeared right on his rug, looking bloody confused and pissed as hell. The entity was a tall and lanky thing, being easily over two meters even doubled over as it was. Its arms were as long as its entire body, black claws reaching the ground without much effort. There were fangs growing out of its jaw, long and sharp. Whatever this thing was, it was clearly dangerous and not very pleased to be there. “Before you burn anything here, sit down and eat something. You look like you are almost doubling over,” Hob said, getting up and pushing the entity off his rug. It was new, recently cleaned and he didn't fancy it getting full of blood so early in the morning. “Stay right there and don't move,” he added as he pushed the thing to a nearby armchair, leaving the room before anything could be said or done. “I'm getting cake and tea.”

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #tag game #my fanfic #wip game #wip ask game

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chaosheadspace · 2 months

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Hi there! For the Valentine asks: 35 but make it in the Dreaming and we get Dream pilfering snacks for Hob from his Dreamers?

(We were absolute robbed of the 'naked Dream razes the buffet' scene from the comics 🤭)

Hi, thank you for sending an ask! So here is the actual fill for the prompt, not what I first understood lol (not beta-read.)

Dream wills a temperate breeze to gently flow through the open windows of the balcony and into his chambers, gently cooling Hob's dreamscape body, flushed and sweaty with exertion, his limbs intertwined with Dream's, his breath just now calming down.

He adores Hob, how he smiles, how he always draws Dream closer, how he narrows his focus onto Dream's pleasure when they lay together, body and mind both. He feels as if he can let go, to some extent, when he is with Hob; his experience of perceiving everything that is his realm at once filtered through the lens of Hob's body, of his easy laughter and gentle touch.

Dream hungrily nuzzles closer to him, carefully brushes back some strands of sweat-damp hair from his forehead, places a long kiss to the side of his neck. The night in Hob's part of the world is close to waning, and he is loath to let him go.

“Don't tell me you want to go again?” Hob chuckles, the deep tremble of it resonating from his throat into Dream's lips. “You need to give a man a breather, dove.”

“Technically, you do not need one. This is the Dreaming. You are as ready as you think yourself to be,” Dream speaks against Hob's Adams apple, moving to straddle him, to cover Hob's body with his own, craving closeness still.

“Well, technically I also don't need to eat while dreaming, but my stomach seems to disagree,” Hob ponders. Well, they simply can't have that, can they? At least Dream cannot. Hob should not need to want for anything while he is here.

He sinks into his own consciousness, part of him racing down the arborescent paths of his self, touching, tasting, searching—there.

He gently brushes the dream of a lightly slumbering mother, picking up a dark green artisanal bowl from her breakfast table. She dreams of mundane peace, one of her kids is eating, the other quietly scribbling away on a piece of the morning paper she is reading. It is quiet, and her coffee is hot. Dream’s small smile caresses her sleeping mind and her waking body stills, subconscious easing deeper into the fantasy.

He steps from her kitchen into the dream of a young boy, who has vowed mere hours ago that he will become the best pastry chef in the entire universe. Dream steps up to the table, where the flaxen-haired child is kneading dough next to a row of trays with finished delicacies, all of them unseen and unheard of in the Waking. “May I have one of these?” Dream asks. The boy nods, absorbed in his task.

The final dream he visits is also that of a child. They are imagining for themself the ability to fly, or to be more precise, they imagine the air to be as water and for themself to swim. It is filled with bubbles and bird-like fish, with sun-bright starfish and the slow current of a breeze. Dream conjures up a blue glass flagon and fills it, careful not to spill or take too much.

Then he draws himself up through the roots of his realm, back to Hob’s side, and sets down before him the bowl, containing warm porridge with golden honey and soft raspberries and cream; the tall pastry, filled with berries and vanilla and fervent aspirations; and the flagon, heavy with pearly laughter and liquid air.

“Oh,” Hob breathes in wonder, the image of his dreaming self deliciously close to his waking body. “What's all this?”

Dream touches him, still, again, a shining thread weaving together that which mortals perceive as lesser, unreal, and that which Dream can never truly, fully touch; the roots of Hob's mind tying together Dreaming and Waking under Dream's fingertips, against his body.

“This is a small sample of the finest things the Dreaming has to offer,” Dream purrs. “You will never be left wanting here.”

“Yes, but there is a difference between sating a need and spoiling someone rotten, isn't there,” Hob says fondly.

Dream raises one eyebrow. “Is there a rule that forbids me to achieve both?”

“No,” Hob says with a soft smile, craning his neck to kiss him on the forehead, “absolutely not.”

#chaosheadspace's writing #food prompts #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream x hob #dreamling fic

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valeriianz · 4 months

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oh it's been so long, Last Line Tag Game~ tagged by @tharkuun, thanks! have more than a line from the next chapter of Bolt in the Blue:

“Nice hat.” Hob grins as they’ve begun to walk, indicating to the wide brim in Morpheus’ hand. Morpheus knocks his head sideways, leveling Hob with a look that is unable to be parsed beneath those dark shades. “I got it for him, back in Nashville!” Del pipes up. They make a horizontal line on the sidewalk, Morpheus in the middle of them. “And he promised to wear it if I bought it for him so why aren’t you wearing it?” Hob brings his lips in to stifle his laughter, watching how Morpheus gives a theatrical sigh and, as promised, drops the hat back onto his head.

tagging, as always if you want: @delta-pavonis @chaosheadspace @seiya-starsniper @teejaystumbles @tj-dragonblade

#tag game #why do i always find myself busy when inspiration strikes?#incredibly rude

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lenreli · 2 months

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Last line tag game

Was tagged by @chaosheadspace! So, latest stuff from latest thing I've written. :D

This is a quick au, though I've recently gotten over myself with a thing in it which was being difficult.

Model dreamling! Inspired by Ferdie's latest thing because. He's very inspiring.

Hob’s look becomes soft and intense as he undoes the first button of Hob’s shirt ― and he can hear Constantine grumbling, more to herself then them, this might be even better actually―considering Hob’s closer to the chaise lounge, as he gently forces Hob onto it, the awe in those lined brown eyes making him shiver. Or maybe it’s Hob’s hands going to his hips as Dream undoes another button, chest hair showing. The tips of Dream’s fingers tingle and twitch as he slowly unbuttons Hob’s shirt, brain caught on the soft patch of chest hair as he sits on top of Hob, thighs pressed against Hob’s hip, the other’s groin against him, a searing warmth under him as Hob reclines onto the chaise. Dream bites down a shiver as a thumb manages to get under his shirt, the hot touch of it on the skin under his shirt all he can focus on for the moment. Perfect. Make the people wish they were you, he hears Constantine say, and his first thought is that he wishes he was doing this without a full crew in the same room, as he reaches the end of Hob’s shirt, revealing a dark happy trail going into black trousers. His insides clench as he stares at where their bodies meet, and a sound gets pulled from him as Hob’s hand ― furthest from the camera, brushes his jaw, forcing his head up, his eyes meeting Hob’s, and Dream’s own hands rest on the other’s stomach, dark hair under his thumbs. Hob cups his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek in the same tempo of the one under his shirt and Dream’s mind crashes, his hands travelling up Hob’s chest, feeling hair under his fingers and Hob continues to stare at him, devotion simple to see.

Hehe, building UST and tension, a fave thing. :D

Tagging uhhhhhhhhhhhh. @five-and-dimes @beatnikfreakiswriting @seiya-starsniper @rooftopwreck @valeriianz, no pressure ofc~

#dreamling #needed some variety from my other one's and so this #may stop now but i'm happy now that i've got more of it down

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dreamlingforukraine · 11 months

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Dreamling Creators for Ukraine Masterlist

@aeon-of-neon offering fanfic and art

@historyandqueershenanigans offering art

@shootfighting offering fanfic

@staroftheendless offering fanfic

@notallsandmen offering fanfic

@honeyteacakes offering fanfic

@the-cloudy-dreamer offering art

@altair214 offering fanfic

@rainy-days-and-nights /@watercubebee offering art

@chaosheadspace offering fanfic

@seiya-starsniper offering fanfic

@valiantstarlights offering fanfic

@ferelden-loser offering fanfic

@tharkuun offering fanfic

@ml-nolan offering podfic

@kitsune2022-artish offering art

@phinofthestorm offering fanfic

@chrysanthemumskies offering art

@flaielis offering art

#Dreamlingforukraine #creators masterlist #navigation

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ginoeh · 3 months

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Dream’s Coat (TM), pretty please??

@chaosheadspace asked for the same! Here you go, lovelies...

This is probably not what you think it is. Or, idk, maybe it's exactly what you think it is? Because both of you know that I'm actually a little dark angst writer at heart lol.

Okay, so this started a long time ago (read: in March last year) in a wild and hilarious brainstorming session that I saved the transcript of. So far, this is more of an intriguing concept to make Hob suffer and Dream repent - eventually at least. I haven't touched it in a while; I'd have to really dig into Dream's fucking ugly side - the 10000 years in hell side - to get this going.

It all started with a 'what-if' variation of @messmonte 's Saddest Wank (1889 instead of 1989!) because in that drawing, Dream didn't just leave his gloves, he also left his Cloak. Here, this has pretty severe consequences. In SoM, the story gets told of how Dream takes Nada into the Cloak where they have sex unbothered by anyone's gaze. So there we have a ‘magical cloak’ with space-time special features…

~~~

Now here is Hob, in 1889, drunk and sad and wearing Dream's gloves to get himself off in a seedy room above the White Horse. He took the garments his Stranger left behind in a mixture of spite and pathetic hope that he might come back for them. He doesn't, of course.

(Snippets and more details under the cut)

(Hob doesn't know that Jessamy *has* actually come back to get them and gets to witness what is going on. This, as well, has consequences)

After, he rolls over onto the cloak he has been gripping, disgusted with himself but still unable to let go of the pathetic need to be close to the Stranger. But instead of falling asleep, he falls into the star-studded folds of the cloak.

And falls and falls and falls.

He barely manages to keep a grip on the strangely wispy fabric. It's what saves him, at first. Because Hob has just managed to accidentally yeet himself into outer space. The cloak is the only thing that's keeping him whole and sustained as a living being, as it were.

(Jessamy is unfortunate bystander to this. She takes off to the Dreaming immediately and informs Dream of his ‘acquaintance's’ mishap. She's worried - she actually likes Hob and knows that Dream does so, as well. Dream though, is still furious.

“Let him enjoy this new experience then”, he says and Jessamy recognizes the stubborn curl to her Lord's mouth. “May he experience the meaning of true loneliness for a while.”

Jessamy rather thinks that Lord Morpheus is really tipping his hand there about *who* had it right at their meeting but she'd never dare to point that out.

She has a really really bad feeling about what this might mean for Hob Gadling, though. Since her Lord is so intent on forgetting that the immortal is, above all else, human and as such not made to sustain himself outside of his own world.

And besides, he is a Dreamer. Lord Morpheus will surely reconsider soon and bring him back.

But as time passes, he does not.

Hob Gadling is not one of Dream's priorities, after all. In the face of the Universe nearly unravelling, the Corinthian's disobediance and its fallout, Hob Gadling gets forgotten for the better part of a century.)

On the other end of the universe, Hob's life is an unending and undying nightmare. He is neither starving, freezing nor suffocating - not that he knows that he should do the last two - but there is nothing around him but the vastness of space. No sound, no smell, no touch but that of the cloak around his shoulders. He is truly alone for the first time in his existence.

Until, suddenly, he isn't.

“Oh my what do we have here,” a voice resounds inside his head. His perception slides sideways, something breaks somewhere in his mind and then there is the form of a voluptuous, incandescently beautiful woman that takes over everything around him.

“A human - here! Covered in my Dream's regard!”

She stretches a hand towards him and Hob thinks that space has decided to cease existing. Maybe he's going mad.

“If I keep you, do you think my son will visit?”

***

Dream does, of course, remember Hob eventually. The horror that rises in Dream, still caught in Burgess’ basement, over what he has allowed a Dreamer to suffer for his own mistake, is as dark and deep and cold as the black hole he has once been cast into.

After he escapes and has gathered his tools, he searches out his sister.

“Hob Gadling? No, he hasn't asked for me.”

She falls silent for a moment before leveling a longsuffering and suspicious look at him.

“Is there a particular reason you're asking me this?”

Dream closes his eyes and shreds the rest of the mauled baguette between his fingers.

“He may have. Fallen though an actualized piece of my power. Into space. And I may have been. Too angry to care. At the time.”

There is the rustle of clothes and he feels Death kneeling before him. Her voice, when she speaks, is very soft and very serious.

“Dream? When, exactly, has this happened.”

He opens his eyes.

“Hob Gadling has suffered my wrath since 1889, sister. I hurt a Dreamer, unprovoked.”

“Oh, Dream.”

He cannot bear the horrified pity on his sister's face.

“How shall I -” His words fail him.

“Go and get him back, Dream. Now. Hob Gadling hasn't called for me - yet. If that will help you, though, I don't know.”

~~~

Or: A pathetic wank and Dream's canonically bad decision making skills meets the 'meeting the parents trope' but make it eldritch horror. Then add a magical healing journey afterwards an voilá - you get this.

Yeah I can still make this Dreamling despite their horrifically bad start. Watch me lol.

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #death of the endless #ginoeh writes #wip tag game #edit: forgot to @ messmonte who's art started this whole thing lol

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