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#shaper of forms
4typercent · 5 months
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A super wrinkly update 👉👈 and he's in the sun!
Dream Stitch Update 11 🧵 🪡
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How is this only (almost) 28%?
I'm still blown away by how this looks up close and bamboozled by how striking he looks from afar. This is the larger trail of sand from his hand 👇 *I'm still working on it* It has five different colours so far and many more to come.
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Will I ever sell this pattern? No. Find out here as to why.
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arthurtaylorlester · 2 years
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do you think hob ever sat in his room in 2008 listening to ''Mr.Perfectly Fine'' as it came out?
do you think hob, in 2020, after some online lesson in teaching heard ''right where you left me'' as it shuffled in his new releases?
do you think think, after a sunny day in the summer of 2022, hob listened to ''Lover'' and smiled?
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emeraldpotion · 2 years
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ripegreenfruit · 2 years
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Eyes stars or wet no in between
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magnusbae · 1 year
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I caption it:
"I wish we had Dream's sl... outfits in the show"
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chamblerstara · 2 years
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Were you down there? All this time?
for @oneiros-the-shaper-of-forms
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baeshijima · 2 months
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happy lunar new year everyone 🫶🫶
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burnt-scone · 4 days
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ask-numberjacks · 11 days
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Question for the Numbertaker: This may sound like a weird question, but are you actually human? Or are you some other creature that's just always in a human form? If you are human, then how did you become a Meanie? (I'm sorry if you're confused.)
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Sorry if the image is a bit fuzzy - I don't know what happened there.
Wow deep lore moment Not even lore just ridiculously wild headcanons because technically I can't answer with anything canon because there is no canon answer! So have this lol
Yeah, I'm pretty sure he isn't really human - his Meanie form was just so unstable when he was born that they had to keep him in his human form permanently!
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4typercent · 4 months
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Impressive Dream Stitch Update XII!
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1/3 done!! 🎉 🥳
Aahhh!!! Look how fantastic he looks!! Sanyo Roku remote for scale, he's a big boi!!
Materials used: 14 count Black Aida, 16 colours of DMC. Zoom in for clarity.
Just look at the shading in the sand!!! Ahh!
Pattern is sadly not for sale. Find out why here.
How many skeins of 310 & 3756 have I used? How many more will I use?! Idk man..
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landwriter · 11 months
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WIP Wordsearch Game: Director's Cut Extended Edition
Why not! Courtesy of @softest-punk and @moorishflower - thank you both for tagging me, please enjoy these excessively long excerpts for every word that was a match in the WIPs:
lonely—lighthouses “You’re off your nut. The only thing Keats and I have in common is that we’re broke.”
But later, halfway out the door, leaving for his own lonely apartment, he finds himself asking, “Keats and Shelley were friends, weren’t they?”
“Yes,” says Dream.
He leaves Dream’s apartment with the words What he has offered me is generous, circling around and around in his head like a dog chasing its tail. I would offer the same, he thinks. I would offer more. Anything. He imagines Dream and his mystery love meeting in the cover of darkness, meeting in cars, in parks, imagines Dream’s lips slick with spit instead of grease, and at the end, each time, the other man, who he pictures as older, chiseled, clean-cut — who must surely have a wife — reminding him he loves another, and Dream nodding, serious, straight-backed as his settee. He wonders if they kiss each other. He hopes they don’t.
small—lighthouses “Trying to kill me,” says Dream, sounding scraped raw.
“Nah,” Hob says, handing the soup back, “I don’t think I could do a good Adonais.” Dream looks at him. “Your throat must feel like shit after that. I’m gonna make you some tea. You got honey?”
Dream nods minutely. He’s wearing an unnervingly soft expression that Hob puts down to him being terrifically, deliriously sick. He puts the back of his hand against Dream’s forehead. “Well,” he says. “No fever, at least.”
“Are you sure?” asks Dream, still staring at him. Hob feels a heat of his own spring to his face. He can’t even kid himself that Dream is just asking. But he’s sure Dream would regret it later, and there’s no way Hob is going to take advantage of him when he’s sick, and he - he tells himself he respects himself too much to be used as a surrogate for Dream’s man, for the one he loves and the one who isn’t here to check if he’s okay, to feed him soup and rub his back and want desperately, desperately, to suck his dick; and it’s not strange to want to do all those things, is it, to want to give him every small pleasure there is of life until he recovers.
He wishes they were both feverish. Wishes he was a slightly worse or significantly better person than this. He drops his hand.
“Yeah,” he says, after a weird, too-long silence. “You’re good. Where’s the honey?”
taste—lighthouses “God,” he says, sounding helplessly reverent. “I’m so fucking crazy for you, man. I’m- I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you.”
And Dream smiles, soft, and moves for him, hooking an arm behind Hob’s neck and bringing him close, pressing their bodies together, and Hob feels Dream’s naked chest rising and falling against his own as they kiss, and thinks, I love you, I love you, I love you, and he’s sure Dream can taste it in his mouth.
“I know what I want to do with you,” says Dream.
nose—lighthouses “You,” he says, nuzzling into Dream’s stroking, newly spit-slick hand, trying to gentle him, but he won’t be gentled now, not for anything, “Needy for you, for you, nobody else was the same, nobody else was close.”
Dream’s mouth has fallen slack, eyes glazed with lust. He focuses them, barely, on Hob, “For me,” he says.
“For you,” he promises. “Haven’t even made it with anyone else. Wanted you.”
Dream goes still and breathes in sharply through his nose.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to come, Hob.”
right—lighthouses “I’ll wait,” he says, standing so hard on the knife edge of truth and discretion he thinks he won’t be able to walk away from this, or walk ever again after it. “I’ll wait a hundred years for, for him.”
“You’re too loyal, Hob.” Dream looks disappointed with him. He wonders if it’s obvious, how fucked he is right now. He wonders if his want is rolling off of him, like fog, if Dream sees it. Or feels it clinging to his skin, damp. If he’s repulsed. He doesn’t want to be pitied. Not by Dream. Not for this. There’s nothin’ wrong, being loyal. Nothing wrong waiting.
book—shaper of forms He does not so mind the crowds, with Hob by his side. It is less of an awful clamour, without the dull roar of daydreams. But his own thoughts are louder, even with Hob holding his hand.
He looks at a book display and accidentally catches his own gaze instead. His window-self looks at him in scorn. Gaunt, it assesses. Frail. Weak. As they pass the next shopfront, he glances over again. And again, and again.
Each reflection is a jolt, a shiver, like a wing’d shadow over water. A fish-fear. Nightmare blotting out the sun. Announcing his new station to the world: you are helpless, you are helpless, you are- Helpless. You are only this. Nothing more.
After, he cannot stop looking, resolved to confront himself until he no longer feels surprise and pain at the sight, but a part of him, too, foolishly hoping to see himself restored in the next window. It is the way humans sometimes unconsciously beckon the same dream of missing something over and over, compulsively looking in the Dreaming for what awaits them in the Waking world: their brake pedal, their destination, their child.
This is not a dream. His loss is his own.
tea—shaper of forms Nightmares, he knows, are important to humanity. He is certain this is what is missing. Fear.
Three nights later — long, he thinks, but perhaps none of the Nightmares he created himself would dare visit their former lord, something he cannot resist finding flattering — he feels an innocuous dream start to turn from under him. He’s in Hob’s kitchen, making tea. His hands tremble and the cup slips and shatters on the floor. He knows he will not catch it in a dream, so he does not try. The puddle of black tea spreads across the floor, suddenly thick and ichorous, and then turns milk-white. At first, he is fascinated.
Then the Nightmare who has been called to his sleeping mind rises out of it with hair and suit the same colour, and teeth for eyes. It is not, he thinks, an especially creative choice. He is certain it is not the Corinthian himself.
Certain, until the Nightmare places a gentle hand on his cheek and says, all friendly impertinence, “Wanna hear a joke? Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.”
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darkangel922 · 2 months
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I love these guys
So. Design time
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Ahkmenrah. I find myself intrigued by your kingdom and your subjects. Would you be my guide? Let me meet those who often forget me in waking hours?
- Dream of the Endless ⏳
The museum, my god? Of course, I would be honored to introduce you to my friends. Come, follow me.
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Talk to me about Here We Are? Why does it kill you? Is it a short film?
It's a 10 minute short film, yes! Made in 2019 and it's v good! There's almost no speaking and just a good amount of fun expressive silent acting going on. Also ferdinand kingsley chops wood in a turtleneck and plays the piano in it and....Yeah...
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priestessoflumine · 1 month
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No hate or whatever but people were complaining a little too loud about Moon Caver and Mountain shaper having just NPC forms.
Don't get me wrong, it would have been so cool to see it. Even if we got like a cut-scene or something.
But this is Hoyo after all, are we that surprised they would prioritise female characters? Also they already had a Xianyun design ready; this shows that she probably was already in the works to be playable.
I feel like if they brought in playable-like designs for Moon Caver and Mountain shaper it would have taken away from you know, the character that was being playable.
And who know, maybe they might be in the future.
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b4ldurians-archive · 8 months
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𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒 ; 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄 ; 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄
misc. baba yaga edits
writing partners only may reblog
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