#amazing hob gadling

[emihotaru]

Crying babiiiiies (I love them)

would you be up for drawing some dreamling soft comfort? like maybe one of them crying and the other one comforting them? just a humble suggestion. i love your art :)

Thank you so much! ✨ I LIVE for softness and comfort so absolutely. I do not know why they are crying, but now I am also crying 🫠

[emihotaru]

Hey, I just finished this!

I love them when they want to be sexy ❤️

[webonchin]

Morning serenity

...

in other words AAAAAAAAAA *rips off my hair* i'm jumping!!! them!!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ This one is special because it's based of my first fanart from one year ago(link) yay!! wich I still find hilarious

[mayhemspreadingguy]

I did these illustrations for @beholdingthegaytimes 's fic 'It's Only Forever, Not Long At All' which is a part of The Endless Big Bang 2023.

[emihotaru]

ONE OF MY FAVORITE DREAMLING AU FANFIC! and this Hob is amazing!! Really well done @designtheendless !

I've got some fanarts ideas about this story too, I can't wait to have some time to draw them^^ (so many WIP and no time at all... 😭)

So I commissioned the lovely @designtheendless to draw Hob from my Library AU and they did such a good job! He turned out so marvellous, I can't stop staring at him.

It's a scene taken from chapter 9:

In passing, he signals Sylvia that he needs five more minutes until he'll relieve her from her shift and then prints out a DIN A4 page saying "Closed for maintenance." He shoves the sellotape into his back pocket and hurries to the staff kitchen, flips the switch on the kettle and dumps the rest of the cocoa powder into the largest pot he can find. Waiting for the water to boil, he grabs a mug and the bowl with the assorted sweets he personally filled to the brim this morning. Sylvia shoots him a weird look as he shuffles past circulation. His arms are full with a pot, the treat bowl, a mug, and the sheet of paper fluttering between his teeth, and the outline of the sellotape holder is visible in his back pocket. He winks at her.

[five-and-dimes]

Hob: *smiles fondly at something Dream said/did*

Dream, internally: This is great. I am going to get a good grade in Boyfriend. Something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. 

[iamonlypartlymajestic]

My first Dreamling art! This is some fan art for the fanfic, To the Edge of Night, by @ginoeh on Ao3.

**SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 5**

[virgo-dream]

Flowing

based on this lovely post and @softest-punk’s ficlet on the reblogs. it scratched my brain so good I actually wrote something!!! this miracle took at least 76 lazari.

dreamling, t4t, fluff, all that good stuff. not beta’ed we die like Hob doesn’t yadda yadda yadda, idk how many words it’s 4:30am and I’m eepy and hungy wow

Dream’s fingers run over the keyboard on his laptop in a staccato rhythm. He feels his fingers clicking against each individual key clumsily, almost as if for a moment, he’d forgotten how words should be strung together. He hits the backspace, once, twice, holds it like he means to suffocate the words on the screen. Like they scare him, like his chest is being torn open by a fictional claw.

It’s not flowing, he tells himself. It hasn’t been flowing for a while now.

Still, he pushes through, typing away, forcing the words out, until a hand much warmer and steadier than his own reaches out, stopping Dream in his tracks.

“Dove, I can hear the cogs turning in your head. What’s the matter? You’ve been jumpy all day.”

Dream’s eyes stay focused on the screen, and time starts to dilate in his mind. He’s not sure why, but his chest tightens. He’s not sure if he’s ready to bring a name to that feeling either. Still, it’s impossible not to look at Hob, whose expression is full of warmth and kindness, and unlike Dream, seems to have his chest open and ready to bring his wreck of a lover into an embrace.

Hob wears the scars on his chest like a badge of honour. A body of his own making, a body Dream could sense from afar even before Hob had started growing into it.

“I… I’m not sure.” The words to describe his anxiety are there, Dream knows that. He’s trying to reach out for them, but he falls short.

Hob’s lips curl into a soft smile as he carefully reaches for the computer resting on Dream’s lap. “That’s alright. But maybe you’ve done enough writing for today. No point in frying your brain like that.”

Dream feels his heart climb up to his throat, hands gripping the sides of the laptop as if his life depended on it. “—I’ll stop. You’re right. There’s nothing more I can put on the page for now.” He shuts the laptop down, pulling it away from Hob and placing it on the nightstand.

He’s got nothing to hide from Hob. He’s got plenty to hide from himself. Dream can tell from how Hob’s eyebrows raise that whatever it is, he’s going to have to face it sooner rather than later.

“…ooookay. I wasn’t going to look, you know? I only want to read what you want to show me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the room as Dream and Hob look at each other. He can tell Hob is not going to push, but oh, how Dream wishes he would. Maybe a push is just what he needs. Maybe Hob is the only person who can do it for him.

Dream looks at Hob’s chest once more. Open, welcoming, light. Free. At his eyes, loving, wanting, sincere. At his arms, reaching out for Dream, wanting to bring him closer, to protect him, to give him strength. “Duck, is there anything you—“

“—could you use they for me sometimes? I don’t think I’m… I don’t think I’m a he. All the time. Maybe.”

Silence now sucks the air out of Dream’s lungs. They stare at each other as his— their words move through both Dream and Hob’s brains. For a split second, Dream feels a surge of fear and shame, the horrifying possibility that everything went wrong and somehow a line was crossed. A line he cannot possibly ignore now.

Before he can dive into any more assumptions, Hob’s arms are around him in a firm embrace, almost crushing. A hand goes to rest on the back of their hair, fingers tangling with the soft, dark strands. Hob holds Dream like they are the most precious thing to ever exist. “—oh duck, I’ll call you whatever makes you feel good. Thank you for trusting me, I know how difficult this is. Thank you, Dream. I love you.”

Hob’s words feel like a soothing balm to Dream’s crumpled chest, that now opens up as they take a breath, as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted off their shoulders. Hob’s embrace feels like permission, like comprehension, like support. And love, so much love, so much that Dream doesn’t know what to do with it other than let their hands go to Hob’s softly stubbled cheeks and direct his face to meet Dream’s in the middle, lips crashing clumsily at first.

When Dream opens their eyes again, they are rimmed with tears. It’s okay, though. Hob would not denounce him for crying. Hob accepts it, celebrates their moments of emotional release.

“I know. It’s scary. You did something very big right now. I’m proud of you.” Hob presses a gentle kiss to Dream’s forehead, and doesn’t let of them. Dream is not bothered by it, in fact settling into Hob’s arms, like their bodies were always meant to rest against one another.

Dream wonders if Hob knew all along, like they somehow sensed Hob’s truth years before it came to light.

The next morning, their words are flowing again.

[ryal-is-reading]

“Fine. If any eldritch horror suddenly attacks us, I’ll punch it for you. Come on, love. Let’s go eat.”

There is a slight but notable pause, as Morpheus pointedly elects not to comment on any of the words that just came out of Hob’s mouth.

~@qqueenofhades

[addiuchiha]

Gyatt 🔥🔥!

[emihotaru]

Well, this is a special one, a Sandman fanart from a wonderful fanfic from @purplesauris , "And Though I Burn (How Could I Fall)", where Hob is summoned with Dream and trapped in the Fishbowl with him for 80 years... it's a heartbreaking story, but it's very very good.

I'm quite happy how this one turned! I was afraid of the light from above, and the fishbowl reflection, but I think it went well^^

[robotshowtunes]

Happy 634th Anniversary, Dreamling! 🏳️‍🌈

[immacaria]

Fluffbruary: February 6 - Trust

Tags: Fluff; A wild appearance of Robyn and Orpheus; Humans AU; College Professor AU; Parent Trap AU; Yes, Robyn and Orpheus are trying to get their dads together; Mediaeval History Professor Hob; Psychology Professor Dream; I’m using my very limited experience on this, be kind; Crack

Please ignore that I am three days late for this one and enjoy Robyn and Orpheus trying to make their dads date. Also, this is for @firemandeanbuck just so you can see that I still write fluff, it just takes longer than the angst.

  "Walk, walk, walk, old man," Robyn says behind Hob, pushing him out of the movie theatre with all the force he had. He has been doing this since he was a kid, pushing or pulling Hob with all the force he had in his little, puny arms.

  Doesn't mean he is letting his son win any time soon anyway.

  "Hey, hey, now, young man, who do you think you are talking with?" Hob says, leaning back against him and bracketing his feet.

  "Would you trust me this once, Dad? We are going to lose the freaking cab!" Robyn has turned around, his shoulder replacing his hands as he tries to make him move. "Old man, move!" With all his force, Robyn pushes him and Hob starts to laugh, loud and clear as he stumbles ahead.

  The people getting out of the theatre look at them out the side eyes, but Hob doesn't care. His boy is rolling his eyes at him, the smile on his face too much like Eleanor's and his heart is full. Robyn has grown up so much since her death, changed so much and it's so good to see him smiling like this, open and wide, happy.

  "I love you, Robyn, you are my pride and joy," he says, his hand coming up to Robyn's cheek.

  "Thank you, Dad," he says, voice soft and gentle and Hob knows he knows it's true.

  Ever since Eleanor's death, Hob did everything he could, possible and impossible, to make sure Robyn knew he was loved. All the time he could find, he passed with him. School meetings, doctor appointments, all the hobbies.

  He tried to do everything he could for his little boy, letting the grief appear only when he was alone. Their kitchen had hidden his tears one too many times until he learned how to live with the hole in chest. Robin, thankfully, turned well, maybe a little bit too much like him but Hob thinks Eleanor would have liked that.

  Robyn is in college now, English classics like his mother. He is living at the dormitory, despite their  house being only three hours away and Hob going almost every day there because of his classes. Almost every day they see each other at lunch, just to talk or sit together.

  "This address, please," Robyn says to the driver, showing the address on his phone the moment they got into the cab.

  "Why don't you say the address, boy? Where are you taking me?" Hob says, leaning against the door and lifting an eyebrow.

  "It's a surprise, Dad," Robyn says, sitting back down and rolling his eyes at him. Grey eyes stare back at him, one more thing he inherited from his mother, and Hob makes a face at him, pulling his upper lip up and scrounging his nose. A laugh bursts out of both of them when Robyn does the same face, crossing his eyes and shaking his head to the sides.

  People tend to say, when they see both of them together, that they do not look like father-son, but rather two friends. Not only because Robyn looks more like Eleanor than like him, but because they apparently joke too much together to truly be father and son. Hob particularly finds that bullshit, it's not because they joke together that there isn't respect between them.

  The only one to understand that has been Robyn's roommate's father, Morpheus. Like him, he is a teacher at the college the boys study, one of the big names of the Psychology department. The first time they met was an accident. Robin and him were lunching together when he saw his roommate from far away and called him to sit with them. Morpheus appeared along with him.

  After that, there were few occasions when they found each other again. Once when Hob was running from one lecture to another and found the man in the hallway, looking utterly lost, he had to stop to help him. Needless to say that he was late for his second lecture. There was another time where they found each other, but none of them were lost this time.

  He liked Morpheus. For the few times they talked, he seemed like a decent guy who loved his son more than anything in this world. More than that, the man was beautiful as fuck, the type to inspire tells and stories about his beauty and eyes.

  "How is Auntie Pru?" Robyn says beside him, taking him out of his thoughts.

  "Prudence is alright, I think. Didn't see her much this week," Hob shrugs, turning to him. "And you? What have you and Orpheus been up to?"

  "Nothing much, studying, planning, plotting. Why didn't you see Auntie Pru these last days? She found a boyfriend?" He asks, both eyebrows up and staring at him with shining eyes.

  "That I know of, no, I was just too busy with classes," and thinking about it now, most of his week was spent either in class or talking with Morpheus. "Why do you ask?"

  "Oh, look we are here!"

  Behind him, the facade of one of the most expensive restaurants in London shines right into Hob's face. There are couples coming in and out, families standing at the side while they wait for the valet to bring their car. All of them are wearing designer clothes, some of which he is sure would cost a year of his salary.

  This is not a place they usually go and certainly not one he inured Robyn to frequent. So, why the fuck are they here?

  "Err, Robyn? What are we doing here?" He asks as his son climbs out of the car and pays the driver, waving goodbye to him.

  "C'mon, Dad, it's a surprise! Trust me on this one!" Robyn says and waves for him to get out of the car.

  "Everytime you say that, I get more and more afraid of what you are doing," he is shaking his head, trying to decipher what the hell is his son doing when he hears a voice that gives him goosebumps down his spine.

  "Afraid of your own son, Professor Gadling?"

  "Of his machinations," he says, looking up to see Morpheus standing between Orpheus and Robyn. His hair is as wild as ever, but his clothes seem more soft and casual than Hob has ever seen him using before.

  Orpheus is smiling beside him, waving to him, and Hob feels his eyebrows furrow. There is something wrong here, but he can't point out exactly what it is. He just knows there is something wrong.

  "What a coincidence, right, Dad?" Robyn says and Hob squints his eyes at him.

  "Yeah, what a coincidence..." he says through his teeth and turns to Morpheus. "What are you doing here?"

  "I could ask you the same thing," Morpheus retorts, a smirk on his face, as he helps him out of the car.

  "Oh, then the two of them can have dinner with us! We just arrived," Orpheus says, hands deep on his pocket, and turns to Morpheus with a smile on his face. By the look on Morpheus' face, he is finding this just as strange as Hob.

  "If you two are hungry, we wouldn't mind," He says slowly, still looking at him.

  "Amazing!" Robyn says and then promptly wraps his arm around Orpheus and turns to the restaurant. They watch as the two of them walk in the restaurant talking with the woman at the front - God, Hob doesn't even know what he should call her - and point to them, saying some thing more and nodding before finally disappearing inside.

  "What do you think they are doing?" Hob asks, still watching the restaurant in front of them warily.

  "I do not know, but it does seem like they are trying hard to make us spend some time together,"

  "Should we tell them that we are seeing each other?" Morpheus shrugs by his side before shaking his head.

  "No, let's see how far they can go with this." And after a beat, he adds. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

  "Oh yes!" Hob nods and then follows him up to the restaurant.

  Let the kids figure out what they want. They have their own plans.

[wolfgirl-valentine]

Lyrics from Strangers in The Night by Frank Sinatra

I was very anxious about posting this, so all my gratitude to @watercubebee for encoraunging me to do it!! Muchas gracias!!!!

Sorry fot the low quality I only have my phone camera.

[ahli-stuff]

I ate some kbbq today and I swear the sandman brainrot is growing mold inside my brain because all I could think about was making a comic series which explores hob taking dream to all kinds of different restaurants from different cultures and having him try the food in the waking

In a kbbq, hob would show dream how to properly grill meat and to eat it and space it between the sour, salty, spicy refreshing banchan and show him how the sauces can completely transform the taste of the bolgogi based on the diff combos. Dream would be reserved, but still, with interest sparkling in his eyes because he’s right in front of this instead of experiencing it through a dreamer—and there are so many choices and ways to approach this meal. (Dream thinks hob doesn’t notice when he subtly leans in. Hob does. He’s very endeared by it!)

This thought was inspired by the fanfiction pie of birds and grief and ocean water by Chrome

Hob is the embodiment of the enjoyment of every kind of human pleasure from grand to simple—and of course of the most simplest yet grandest pleasures of being human is tasting the awesome foods that people have come up with over the years. As a medieval peasant constantly worrying about his next meal and being destitute during several periods of history, hob knows well how potent the simple joy of a full stomach can be. How can be compounded by being with a dear friend.

And dream, dream is millions of years old, of course he’s very familiar with food from all kinds of cultures and the idea of what it tastes smells and looks like and he’s starved before—for a hundred years—(even though it wasn’t shown in the show, he was really really hungry after he escaped his imprisonment) but food is more of a formality. Its to keep up appearances at family gatherings and to foster hospitality between important lords and ladies. Like occasionally eating, dream only does most of what he does because he has too.

And hob, eager to share with dream the joys of what he has experienced, sticks a spoonful of salted steamed egg into dreams mouth and dream—in the company his close friend, not starving or having to pretend out of politeness—feels the tension drain out of his shoulder when the taste spreads throughout his human tongue and warms his stomach with the smile of his oldest friend in front of him and he simply. enjoys.

(I didn’t get a pic of our steamed egg because we ate it so quickly but it was so good guys it was SO GOOD)

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

Disraeli Gears by @quillingwords is an amazingly dreamling Professor AU! and I encourage you all to read it ✨

“Yes of course. The floor is yours, professor – ” the beautiful young man – Hob gave himself a kick mentally; he really needed to stop thinking about a student this way – paused in his reply in order to reach across the table for a copy of the syllabus, scanning it quickly. “Professor Gadling.”

( and if you enjoy my art there’s going to be some more of it to follow along this fluffy AU)