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cuubism · 24 days

Note

I tried to be creative for a hurt/comfort thing but you know what, I'm a very predictable creature of habit who likes what I like lol

A go-to headcanon of mine for canon or human au is that Hob's love language is providing food just as like, a caretaking thing. But of course Dream interprets it as Hob thinking he's ugly for being so skinny. 🥺

🤘five-and-dimes

@five-and-dimes this slots in well with math au so it had to be math au ☺️

"Dream?"

Dream doesn't realize he's drifted off mentally until Hob calls his name. It's possible he's called it more than once and Dream didn't hear. It must be some special level of dysfunction to be able to get so distracted during sex. All week he has thought about Hob, watched the play of his hands on his keyboard and wished they were on his skin, watched the flex of his arms as he ties his hair back, studied his mouth as he chewed on the end of a pen. Now he is here, and yet he's not. Here.

"Are you alright?" Hob continues when Dream just kind of keeps staring at him. "You're like. Not with me at all. I don't know where you are."

Dream doesn't know where Dream is either. Technically he is lying in bed with Hob kneeling between his thighs, and they haven't even gotten fully undressed yet. Hob's hands are still resting lightly on his hips, thumbs hooked under the waistband of his jeans. Dream is suddenly aware of just how sharp his hipbones are when he lies like that, the jut of bone visible through his skin.

He pushes himself up to sitting, dislodging Hob's hands. "I am fine."

"Sure," Hob says, not wholly convinced. "Long day I guess?"

Dream hums noncommittally.

"Want to watch a movie instead?"

"Yes," Dream says, though still distracted, "very well."

Hob moves away to grab his shirt, and Dream watches the flex of his shoulders, the strength of his back and bend of his neck. And he wants, and for a moment he considers saying, no, come back, I want-- but when Hob turns back to him it dies in his throat.

He puts on his own shirt, and Hob pulls him close, lets him settle between his legs, his back to Hob's chest, as he takes his laptop from the nightstand. "I heard about this one, supposed to be using maths to solve time travel. Figured we could watch and you could tell me all the ways they're wrong and stupid."

Hob knows him too well. "You have no confidence that the maths could be correct?" he says.

"Do you?"

"...No," Dream admits, and Hob laughs.

"It'd be no fun if it was right, anyway. Your commentary makes it way more entertaining."

Dream leans back in his arms as Hob boots up the movie, and then it feels easy again, comfortable again, as they fall back into their familiar pattern.

He doesn't know what was wrong with him before.

Dream likes to steal Hob's sweatshirts. He runs cold, but often forgets to bring extra layers with him when he goes places. Or perhaps he is intentionally forgetting to bring his own, so he can steal Hob's. Hob never seems to mind, after all.

And Hob's clothes are not so different in size to his own, they are almost the same height. Hob has broader shoulders than he does, but Dream never feels like he is swimming in Hob's clothes.

Except for now.

He's studying the way the sleeves of Hob's sweatshirt lie on his wrists, comparing it to the way they had looked on Hob's wrists when he had worn the same sweatshirt just this morning, before Dream had stolen it. Have his wrists always been this narrow? The jut of the ulna so sharp where the hem of the sleeve hangs? Has he always looked this bony, when contrasted with soft fabric?

"Hey, love, you hungry? I made you something."

Hob is standing before him, holding a bowl. He places it down on the table before Dream.

"Made me something?" Dream echoes.

"Dinner," Hob says. "You didn't eat anything today."

Did he? Perhaps not. He often doesn't, at least not until Hob reminds him. Which he often does.

"It's green curry," Hob says, pushing the bowl closer to him as if trying to tempt him to take a treat. "One of your favorites?"

Dream does not know if he is really hungry, but Hob is a good cook and besides, it will make him happy if Dream eats it, so he takes it.

Seeming satisfied, Hob gets his own bowl and sits down across from him, tucking in as Dream starts delicately picking at pieces of green bean and pepper, small spoonfuls of rice soaked in curry. It is, in fact, very good. He is just. Out of sorts, perhaps.

But he eats it, slowly, because he knows Hob will be happy. Hob is always happy when he manages to feed him. Perhaps Dream truly doesn't eat enough. Perhaps he is getting too bony.

He tries not to study his wrists as he holds the spoon.

Dream is... not having a good day. He doesn't fully know why. He often doesn't. Regardless, he's lying in bed, music blaring in his headphones, staring blankly at the wall, when Hob gets back from class in the evening.

He doesn't realize it's time for Hob to come back until Hob is creaking open the bedroom door, letting a sliver of light into the cocoon Dream's created. He says something, which Dream doesn't hear on account of the music he's blasting at maximum volume.

He takes out his earbuds as Hob repeats it. "Hey, love. You want some tea? A snack?"

Dream lifts his head to find that Hob's set down a cup of tea and a piece of toast with what looks like almond butter and honey on the nightstand.

"It's seven p.m.," Hob continues. Dream hadn't realized it was so late. He doesn't remember exactly when he laid down. "Have you eaten?"

He's sure Hob already knows the answer to that.

Dream sits up and takes the toast, as bidden. And then just. Stares at it.

Hob lays the back of his hand against Dream's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I don't know," Dream says. But he is not sick in the way that Hob means. He sets the toast back down and takes the tea instead, sipping it slowly.

"You don't feel warm." Hob lets his hand fall. "Should eat the toast, if you can. Do you want company, or should I leave you be?"

Dream swallows hard to clear the lump in his throat. Hob is... so tolerant of his oddities. "Company. If you can tolerate my silence."

"I can cope." Hob fetches his things, and soon enough he's sitting beside Dream in bed, laptop open. Dream leans against his shoulder. Hob's body is soft enough to be comfortable to lie against, while Dream's shoulder is... sharp. When Hob lies against him, are all of Dream's bones just jutting into him?

He sits up again, picks up the toast. If he ate enough almond butter toast he might not be so sharp-edged. But eating an amount of toast that hits even a baseline caloric requirement is already hard enough.

He eats it slowly and tries to pretend it doesn't stick on the way down.

When they were teenagers, Desire used to make fun of Dream for being too skinny. "It's all in the name of love," they'd sing, "just don't want you to end up alone, that's all." Then they'd poke him in the ribs--"You're so bony"--and start giggling.

It didn't help that Dream had jumped ahead two levels in school, and already felt gangly and awkward in comparison to everyone else in his year, who were invariably older. As years passed, he grew out of those awkward teenage proportions, but never lost his thin, angular frame.

Hob, for his part, still has a bit of youthful ranginess to him, but Dream thinks he will fill out wonderfully as he gets older. He does not know what will happen to himself.

What he does know is that Hob keeps trying to feed him.

He'll make breakfast for him, if he stays over. Even if Hob himself needs to run out the door to class with nothing more than a granola bar, he somehow manages to make sure there is something for Dream. He's always making Dream's favorite foods for dinner, more often than not foods Dream barely remembers ever mentioning. He brings him tea in a thermos when Dream is up late working in his favorite classroom.

Dream does not know what to do with this. He is finding it harder and harder to eat what Hob makes. He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

When he gets home from class, he finds that Hob is gone, but he's left an entire container of muffins on Dream's kitchen counter. Zucchini muffins!! the note taped to the lid reads. Very tasty and nutritious too!! ❤️

Dream stares at them for a long time, a lump in his throat. Then he closes the lid, carefully latches it so they won't go stale, and retreats to his bedroom.

Dream is straddling Hob's lap and he should be enjoying himself but he cannot. Stop. Thinking.

About how sharp his knees and ankles look. How Hob can definitely feel his ribs where his hands are laid on Dream's waist. About the deep cut of his collarbone, made more evident by the way he's wrapping his arms around Hob's shoulders as they kiss. Does Hob think about it? Does he look at Dream and wish there was softness to touch, instead of these hard edges?

"Dream," Hob says, still close enough that Dream feels his breath as he pulls away from the kiss. "Where are you, love? Because it's not with me."

It all feels so obvious when Dream thinks about it now. He got used to not thinking about his own body but it's impossible to ignore when he's pressed up against Hob, when he's only in his underwear. Hob has seen him, and touched him, and is always trying to feed him, and he would never say anything because he isn't mean but it must bother him, that Dream is so, is so--

"Do you think I am wrong?" he asks.

Hob just stares at him, thrown. "What?" he asks. "Wrong about what?"

"Wrong," Dream repeats. And suddenly he can't stand to be exposed like he is, and disentangles himself from Hob, reaching for the nearest article of clothing--which ends up being Hob's sweatshirt, the one he likes to steal. And so he ends up just holding it to his chest instead of putting it on, frozen.

Hob reaches for him, then lets his hands fall. "I don't understand."

"You want me to eat more," Dream says.

"I-- yeah? You barely eat one meal a day, of course I want you to eat more?"

Dream nods to himself, clutching Hob's sweatshirt closer. It all makes sense now. He doesn't know why he didn't understand it earlier. Or perhaps he did, subconsciously.

The wave of sadness that catches him under his lungs is more powerful than he anticipated. But at least now he understands.

"I don't know what conclusion you're making, but somehow I don't think it's right," Hob says. He reaches for Dream again, and this time wraps his hand around his wrist, slides down over the bones there until their fingers are tangled together. Their knuckles lock, bone to bone.

"I am hideous to you," he says, braced by Hob's touch enough to voice it.

"What?" Dream expects Hob to move away, but he doesn't, though he does sound... hurt. "How could you think that?"

"You think I should eat more," Dream says. Even as he says it, he feels himself curl inwards again, though it only makes the angles of his limbs more prominent.

"Yeah because you can't survive on one piece of toast every two days? I don't want you to starve yourself?" Hob sounds increasingly desperate as he says it. "Honestly you've been freaking me out, I feel like even when I make stuff you like you want to eat it even less."

"I... like what you make," Dream says quietly. He slowly thinks through what Hob's said. "I thought that... you felt I was too skinny. That you would be more attracted to me if I was not so... bony. And sharp."

He is very sharp-edged all around. And Hob already tolerates the sharp edges of his personality.

"Dream." Now Hob takes both of his hands. "Don't you know I was so attracted to you the moment I saw you? I wanted you so bad. And your attention. Your interest." He plays with Dream's fingers. "Look how beautiful your hands are." He cups Dream's face in his hand. "Your jawline is literally to die for. Modeling agencies would sign you."

Dream makes an expression of distaste at the thought, and Hob laughs.

"I know, you'd hate that." He kisses the tip of Dream's nose. "But the point stands. You're gorgeous." He runs his hand through Dream's hair, making it stick up all over the place. And the way Hob looks at him then makes any objection die in Dream's throat, makes him want to crawl into Hob's lap and press against Hob's body and let Hob do anything to him. "I mean, look at you."

A blush rises to Dream's cheeks. "So. You do not want me to eat so that I will gain weight."

"I want you to eat so you don't fucking die," Hob says, and something about the dramatic phrasing of it makes Dream laugh, and then Hob laughs, too, and pulls him close, pressing Dream's head into his shoulder.

"I am like a recalcitrant pet to you, then," Dream says, and Hob chuckles.

"Too right. You can lead a Dream to avocado toast..."

Perhaps... Dream might be better at being led. Now that he knows why Hob is doing the leading.

“I love you,” Hob says, kissing Dream’s temple. “And your ridiculous cheekbones, you angelic creature. You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Dream’s blush only deepens, and he hides his face in Hob’s shoulder. Hob rubs a hand up and down his bare back, catching on the knobs of his spine. He holds Dream close until Dream’s embarrassment subsides and he feels able to lift his head again.

When their eyes meet again, Hob just smiles. “Can I show you?” He traces his thumb over Dream’s lower lip. “How much I want you?”

Dream nods, tongue dabbing at Hob's thumb. Yes, he wants. He wants Hob. And he wants Hob to want him, desperately he wants it, for Hob to think he is desirable, no matter how embarrassing it may be to feel that want.

Hob kisses him again, pulling him close so Dream is half in his lap, tangled up in him again. Dream chases his mouth. And each touch of Hob's hands over the hard bend of his hips or the sharp wings of his shoulder blades, just as passionate and determined as Dream could have ever hoped for, makes him feel better, until he's not thinking about the shape of himself at all, just the feeling of Hob's touch, and his own pleasure.

And, maybe, the tea Hob might make for him afterward.

#dream has literally the exact opposite body issues that i do and yet somehow it's relatable...#complex mathematics #my writing #dreamling #ask #five-and-dimes #wow this got real sappy at the end tbh #disordered eating

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magnusbae · 5 months

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I mean, I can't NOT prompt "Emotions are a luxury I don't have time for." with Dreamling 👀

🤘 five-and-dimes

OKAY ADMITTEDLY it does fit Dreamling very well doesn't it—? I was going to give half an hour per piece and accidently digressed way too much with this one..... whoops...? Thank you for the prompt dear 🥰💖

Dreamling || 1,174w || lowkey hurt/comfort but with ~hope

▾▾▾

“Don’t you feel anythi— fuck.” Hob stops, forcing the words back down with a thick swallow. He cannot afford himself to speak in anger, no matter how badly it burns in his veins, no matter how scourged by Dream’s aloofness he is. It doesn’t matter that he should have the right for anger. Dream is simply not a being you could, or should, be angry with if you hope to keep him in your life.

Angry or not, justified or not. Hob wants him in his life, very much.

“Dream, listen.” Hob starts, running a hand over his own face, nails scratching uncomfortably over the side of his cheek. “I get it, okay.” He really doesn’t but this is not the point “but seriously, you do have feelings, I know that you have…” his voice wavers and he gestures at the space between them, unable to voice it lest Dream would flee again. “Please.” his voice strains with the burden of it all. Wanting so much, needing so much—being forbidden from even voicing it, let alone having it.

"Emotions are a luxury I don't have time for.” Dream’s voice is deep, booming, as aloof as it could possibly get. He sounds like he’s reading a ready-made script, like he’s following the lines long since prepared.

Hob recoils, physically takes a step back, wants a distance between himself and Dream’s rejection. He should have expected it, in fact, he assumed he might get worse and yet— “Bulshit.” The short silence that follows is pregnant with tension, both momentarily silenced by Hob’s boldness. Hob is as surprised by it as Dream, apparently is.

Dream comes around first, eyebrows knotting, storms cracking in the depths of his eyes. His lips thin, the corners tug down and then he opens his mouth to deliver what Hob is sure would be either a really bad reprimand or his final words to him.

He cannot have it. If only for the simple fact that he doesn’t only want Dream in his life, but factually needs him. He doesn’t know what’s life would be worth without knowing that in the end of every story there will be Dream to share it with, a confidant, a keeper of his journey.

“I think that you’re afraid—” the words rush out without a thought, he steps forward, hurrying to finish before this would blow out of proportion “—because I know that I am petrified.” The words burn true on his tongue, there’s a dull ache in his chest, his lungs feel too full and empty of air. “I am horrified that you might leave, I am terrified that you might not lo— accept this, I am…” he swallows, his throat is closing with the emotion of it all. He cannot stop, not now that he had finally started. “I get it Dream, I know that you are, that we are… different but…. “ His hand falls by his side, no amount of gesturing would express what he feels.

He runs out of words. He was so certain he had them all when this conversation started, now he can hardly even remember what brought it about. He didn’t prepare for it as well as he thought, he doesn’t know how to word it, how to phrase it in a way that would convince Dream to give this, them, a chance. Damn.

His chin drops and he stares at the ground, burning disappointment makes his hand tremor. He closes his fist.

He is no poet, no storyteller, no writer. He is no Dream to pick and choose the right words. He’s only a man. Only a man who loves a being beyond his comprehension, very, very much.

Fuck, fuck it all. Fuck. He is about to lose him, isn’t he?

The pain in his gut is a twisting thing, like a knife slicing through the guts. Shitty death, he’d know. He dares to glance up when Dream doesn’t speak, half expecting to see him gone. Instead, there’s something softer in Dream’s eyes when he meets them. For the first time, Hob’s attention is drawn to the unnatural void in those eyes, the glint of distant stats. This is…

“Am I…” his mind struggles through the spell of dizziness, his consciousness readjusting its grasp of the surroundings. The shadows are longer, the shapes are bent a little too far, the colors are not quite right.

“I am dreaming.” He understands when he finally sees the landscape for what it is, Dream, for who he is. “Oh shit.” His cheeks color red, he is aware of the incredibly uncomfortable material of the shirt he used to wear some few hundreds years ago.

“I yanked you into my dream, haven’t I.” This is, even more than before, not how he had hoped to confess. Not even close.

“Hob,” Dream’s voice bleeds to every fiber of the dream-scape, infusing it with power, making it feel tangible, more clear, in focus. “You dream very loudly.” There’s an odd note to his voice, if Hob was to attempt and pinpoint it, he’d have to admit it sounds like astonishment.

“Sorry,” he answers, abashed. “I, uh, suppose you can’t just…” he gestures at his own head with a motion that resembles wiping chalk off of a board. “Maybe…?” he adds, hopefully.

He doesn’t regrets his feelings. He would, though, like to at least be awake when Dream rejects him, It feels only proper.

The idea of simply not raising it up at all is one that had crossed his mind frequently, and yet he knows that sooner or later he’d slip again, that he wouldn’t be able to to continue pretending like this isn’t an integral part of who he is, like this isn’t something that he feels.

Sooner or later, he’d tell Dream of The Endless that he is helplessly, hopelessly, truly and deeply— in lov…

A finger again his lips distracts him from his thoughts. “Very loudly.” Dream scolds quietly, wistfully. He sighs then, the weight of it almost buckles Hob’s knees. Dream seems to ready himself, like he is expecting a great deal of suffering and is braving himself for it. He looks exhausted. Worn down. Won over.

Hob immediately dislikes that look, it speaks too much of Dream’s past. Too much of what had made Dream as closed off as he is. Too much of what hurt him so badly. Hob wants him to be…

“Very well, Hob Gadling.” Dream’s words distract Hob from his thoughts again “We shall speak of it further in the waking world, according to your wishes.” Dream looks away into the distance, his finger lingering on Hob’s lower lip, it’s cool. “I must go now, so long.”

He does not sat farewell. Hob’s mind centers around it. Between one eye blink and another, Dream is gone, golden sand scattering behind.

“What…?” Hob’s mind is already fuzzing into an incoherent haze of shapes and shadows, only distantly concerned with what just transpired.

Only vaguely he wonders if he should feel loss, or…not?

#Listen I had no idea what I was going for as I started and didn't for the entire time. BUT STILL.#My only rule for tonight's write-in is to go along with anything regardless of my personal feelings about the matter XD #So here we are~ I hope you like it!! 💖💖💖#Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #msg #I absolutely should stick to 200-300 words and no rewrites moving on though esgterhbrtdthrt #five-and-dimes

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oldshowbiz · 2 months

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Arrow Cut Rate

#department store #five and dime #vintage

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im-not-corrupted · 2 months

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Oh I would adore to hear about bygone sin, I’m obsessed with that fic! (🤘five-and-dimes)

Of course!

Chapter five is actually mostly complete! I say mostly because I haven't begun edits yet, and I'm still incredibly unsure whether it's what I need it to be. But once I finish stuff for the Sandman fic exchange, I'll start edits.

”Dream,” he murmured, and he seemed—unsure. Nervous. “I know I asked already, but are you—are you sure you’re alright?” When Dream didn’t reply, he lowered his voice. It was but a whisper, now, shared only between the two of them. Perhaps, in another circumstance, Dream might’ve found it…somewhat intimate. Perhaps. ”It’s okay if you aren’t,” Hob assured him. “You’re allowed to not be okay.” He tensed again. That, there—that was anger, flashing bright red and ugly, but it was familiar. It was heated, melted away the remnants of fear that gripped him when that glass shattered like it did, and he glared up at Hob Gadling, who simply stared back, unafraid. Later, he’d wonder when that had happened. When Hob Gadling became unafraid of him. When they had grown familiar enough to warrant only a soft sigh, one that sounded almost disappointed. For now, though—for now, he allowed himself to ask through gritted teeth, “Why would I not be alright, Robert Gadling?” To not be is a weakness, Dream wanted to add. Do you think me weak? He thought of his hand, bleeding from a knife wound, and the tenderness with which Hob cared for him. He thought of the comfort offered and bestowed upon him as though it was so easy. It was not the suggestion of weakness that inspired anger, not really. It was the knowledge that, in the end, Hob Gadling was right. Dream was weak—he relied so heavily on these meetings that he attended only to repay a damned debt, he sought out Hob’s company not because his presence was owed to the other man but because, somehow, Hob had started to…to represent something. Warmth. Friendship. Care, which was the most baffling out of all of them. Hob offered all these things easily, simply, as though Dream was deserving of such things. As though he thought him worthy of it. He was not. He was not, but he was too selfish to deny it for himself. Those warm welcomes, the way Hob continued to hold open the door to his apartment above The New Inn even though Dream still didn’t understand what led him to do so, the soft smiles tender touches be was offered—they meant too much, and he was terribly selfish. Too much so to consider letting this go.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #the sandman fic #morpheus dream of the endless #eris writes things #my fic #like atonement for a bygone sin - fic #wip title tag game #five-and-dimes #fun fact: you are the sole reason chapter five is in its half-done state five-and-dimes #you asked about it the last time i got tagged in this game and it prompted me to finish the rest of the chapter lol

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fortunaestalta · 2 months

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#artists on tumblr #ai artwork #alternative #fantasy art #1950's style #“Down at the Local Five and Dime”#ordering a vanilla shake

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sodrippy · 2 months

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wheres the post about. dont get wine drunk unless you have a man to feel up

#sorry everyone i swear ill be normal in five days i just have to make it that far #and then ill stop drinking on my parents dime too so I'll be extra normal. i prommy.#<- prommy haters unfollow me

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brandinotbroke · 10 months

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I cringe whenever I hear that someone pays for their spotify

#here's your daily reminder that spotify barely pays the artists a dime #and getting rid of ads for free literally takes five seconds #I am not exaggerating it takes five seconds

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matthewdwhite · 2 years

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Rayne, LA 3/08

#louisiana #rayne #five and dime #photographers on tumblr #swla #deep south #acadia parish

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two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat · 12 days

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Man the vending machine in the break room only takes cash T-T

I wanted a cherry coke

And I dont think I have enough change

#my water bottle didnt make it into the dishwasher over the weeken #so i stuck it in there before i left in case my dad runs it today #but unfortunately that means i have no liquids to consume #ive gotten used to vending machines accepting cards #ive got a dollar fifty in quarters #OH #dollar seventy five #idk how much a can of soda from a vending machine costs these days #i have some dimes too #WAIT #2 dollars in quarters #and a dollar in dimes #3 dollars is probably more than enough right?#......my anxiety has me over here googling things like “how to use a vending machine”#i couldnt remember if you made your choice first or paid first #choose first #👍👍👍👍👍#there might be other people in there when i go back so i dont wanna be in there not knowing what the fuck im doing #the trains on the other side of the street but it feels like it goes over the damn building when youre inside

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girl-drink-drunk · 1 month

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the only person who's got it right is neve cambell in the reefer madness musical. she's got it.

goals

#currently rewatching the musical and i think all my problems would be solved if i was her #i wanna be the gal who runs the five and dime and does a tango with steven weber #i think i deserve it #reefer madness the musical #neve campbell

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cuubism · 2 months

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If you’re still doing it you KNOW I’m a slut for the physical therapy au 👀👀👀 (🤘five-and-dimes)

@five-and-dimes I had to go and actually WRITE more but here it is XD. don't know if this is in the end of chapter 9 or if there'll have to be an epilogue. fuck.

Dream is fidgeting. Shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, rubbing his fingers together. Hob watches this for a few minutes before finally saying something. “Are you worried he’s going to show up? Because I’ll throw him out.” “I know you will,” Dream says. Still, he keeps watching the room nervously, all the people meandering around, chatting amongst themselves. “It’s not that. It’s… what if they all hate it?” Hob takes his hand and squeezes it. “Did you used to get nervous before?” “Sometimes. But I knew, at least, that I felt confident in what I had made. What anyone else thought of it was of less importance.” He looks up at the painting they’re closest to, a large, cool-toned piece. “I still feel sometimes that it is not right, now.” “Maybe it’s right for now,” Hob says, and Dream looks at him questioningly. “Didn’t most famous artists have seasons? They didn’t always work in the same style for their whole careers.” “I suppose that’s true.” He sighs. “I am still getting used to it.” “You also don’t have to sell them, if you don’t want to,” Hob points out. “Remove that whole bit from the equation.” “I want to know that I can,” says Dream. “That this, as a career, is not hopeless.” “I’ll buy them,” Hob swears. “One, that would result in a net of zero money coming in. Two—” his lips twitch up— “you can’t afford me.” “You’re right, I can’t. You should have tipped your physical therapist, then maybe I could.” “I’m already sleeping with my physical therapist, now I have to pay you as well?” “Sex can’t buy paintings, Dream,” Hob says sadly. “Well, unless…” “Hmm. Perhaps I’ll just do a portrait of you for my next exhibition,” Dream muses. “A nude one.” “Hell yeah,” Hob says, and Dream, evidently anticipating a no, starts giggling. “Just don’t sell it. Makes me feel weird to think of some random guy with one of my nudes above their mantlepiece.” “One of your nudes?” Dream asks, raising an eyebrow. “There are others I’m unaware of?” Hob just winks at him.

#dream's exhibition #physical therapy fic #ask #five-and-dimes #:)

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angeltism · 7 months

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HAI ANGEL !! ( our ) kangel says hi too :3 ( not in front or anything but she wants me to say hi for kiss so ! )

hello there to you, and hello to kangel!

#➳ the fool's mail box #➳ sender; lollite #if aqua had a dime for each kangel and/or ame he knew #that's like four dimes (five if you include her fragment of ame)#kangel army...... we could all take over the internet together. or something. that sounds like it'd be fun.#💻

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krispyweiss · 11 months

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youtube

Song Review: John Prine & Kelsey Waldon - “Love at the Five & Dime”

It’s a shame John Prine and Kelsey Waldon didn’t get more chances to sing together because his ravaged voice dances beautifully with her twangy warble from the long ago.

The pair’s recording of “Love at the Five & Dime” is confirmation of the chemistry first demonstrated with 2019’s “Kentucky Means Paradise.” It’s out to preview the various artists’ collection More than a Whisper: Celebrating the Music of Nanci Griffith.

It’s a corny country song. But Prine, who died in 2020, and Waldon, who is signed to his Oh Boy Records, add depth as they with alternate verses and come together on the chorus.

Out Sept. 22, More than a Whisper also includes contributions from Shawn Colvin, Iris Dement, Steve Earle, Emmylou Harris, Sarah Jarosz, Lyle Lovett and Kathy Mattea, Todd Snider, Billy Strings and Molly Tuttle, Aaron Lee Tasjan and others.

Grade card: John Prine & Kelsey Waldon - “Love at the Five & Dime” - B

7/19/23

#Youtube #john prine #kelsey waldon #nanci griffith #more than a whisper #live at the five & dime #shawn colvin #iris dement #emmylou harris #steve earle #sarah jarosz #lyle lovett #kathy mattea #todd snider #billy strings #molly tuttle #aaron lee tasjan

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im-not-corrupted · 4 months

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So hard to choose just one but I'm dying to know more about the next part of "like atonement for a bygone sin" 👀

🤘five-and-dimes

Oh yes! Chapter five is roughly 4k words so far (and hopefully shouldn’t be much more than that), and features a: yet more misunderstandings from Dream (he’s really bad at this friendship thing) and b: Hob being Deeply Concerned while Dream brushes away his problems. Here’s a lil snippet <3

———

A hand found itself on his shoulder, a sudden pressure that made him jolt in his seat. They didn’t touch him down in Fawney Rig—the cage was always in the way. For one hundred and six years, he was deprived of something as small as touch. He never realised how much he could miss something so simple, something he didn’t let himself have even before that.

You aren’t there, he told himself again, tearing his eyes from the man who knocked over the glass, landing them on Hob. Hob stood before him, leaning over the bar so he could place that hand on his shoulder. His eyes were concerned, brow drawn together in a frown. Distantly, Dream had the urge to reach out and smooth that frown away with the pad of his thumb. It didn’t belong on the fact of one so joyful as he.

”Dream?” he murmured softly, low enough so the word was only heard by the two of them. “Are you alright? You seemed a little…distant there for a moment.”

He blinked. Hob’s face was nothing but earnest, and Dream…didn’t know how to reply to that. He could still hear the shattering of glass. His hands slipped beneath the bar, his nails digging into his palms. He let it sting faintly, a small anchor grounding him where he was. In The New Inn, at one of Hob’s workplaces. Not in Fawney Rig, where he hadn’t been for months now. He got out. He got out.

“I am fine,” he managed. It sounded like a lie even to his own ears—a little too strangled, a little too faint.

Hob’s frown deepened a little. “Are you sure, love? You can go upstairs if you need to? I have some more time here, but I’ll join you as soon as I can, unless you just want to leave entirely?”

In truth, he was not sure at all. He was even less sure that he wished to remain in the Waking—it was too loud, all of a sudden. If anything, he wished to return to the Dreaming, wished to find comfort in his own realm, no longer torn from him. But he could not. He had only been here for a couple minutes at best—not even a full hour. He could not leave now, when he had yet to offer enough of his time, and he didn’t trust himself to remain upstairs if he were to make himself comfortable in Hob’s apartment for a while.

He clenched his jaw for a moment, staring resolutely at Hob. He had a debt to repay, and he would do it. He could cope a little longer in the Waking for the sake of that debt and his friendship with Hob, even if the realm seemed to grate on him suddenly, even if a part of him could still hear Alexander’s voice inside his head and the shattering of glass to accompany it.

He was not there. He got out. That was enough. It had to be. “I am fine,” he repeated firmly.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #morpheus dream of the endless #the sandman fic #my fic #eris writes things #atonement fic #five-and-dimes #my asks #wip tag game

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