#mathomhouse-e

[issylra]

For the word ask game: boot, eye, smile, frown. I know this is more than one, but I have had notorious bad luck with asking words, so either of those would suffice 😅 (I'm gonna yeet myself in the abyss if I'm still unlucky AGAIN)

thank you 💕

Since I can't bear to disappoint you, I'm going to say eye is close enough! Here's a few lines from my "Hob decides to spend his next life renovating a farm" AU:

"Be nice to live forever, eh?" the cashier asks, and Hob's eyes catch on the sight of Dream over his shoulder. He's leaning above the bucket of freshly hatched chicks, the expression on his face so serious that Hob can only imagine the philosophical debate he must be having about the ethics of crawling atop your own sibling to better reach the warmth of a heat lamp.

(send me a word!)

[fishfingersandscarves]

Just wanted to let you know that you are one of my two favourite artists in fanart of all time (right next to Rutobuka). I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I needed to say it at least once. Thank you for everything and be forever well 😘

Oh goodness that is such a high compliment thank you!! 😭

[virgo-dream]

Lucid??

It's chapter three of morpheus' orchestra! can you believe it? lol it actually exists!!!

it's set in 1589. there's a very lustful dream interaction. there's drama. the plot will be plotting.

and this is the song for this chapter by the way:

[immacaria]

Soup Hour

For my dear @mathomhouse-e. I have only two words for you, dear: Soup. Hour.

_________________________________________________________

  Morpheus Endeles — or simply Dream — was not a man to indulge in frivolities. Despite not being as straightforward as his older brother or younger sister, he was also not known for tolerating things that had little interest to him. Most people would call him a cold bitch, but he preferred to call himself ‘selective’. 

  He didn’t have time to waste on things that didn’t matter to him or his employees. His time was to be spent creating, surrounded by art and beautiful things. If not that, it should be spent restoring antique tomes and discovering long hidden stories. 

  However, if pressed, Dream wouldn’t know what to answer about Hob Gadling. 

  They never met personally and, still, the man was a constant presence in Dream's life. The first time they talked it had been by accident, though it hadn’t been their fault either. One day, Dream woke up to a strange message that simply consisted of “Minestrone soup today. You?” and a picture of a steaming, mouthwatering soup right after. 

  At the time, Dream hadn’t known who Hob Gadling was and had simply answered:

  “I do not know you, who are you? And why are you sending me pictures of soup?”. 

  Not even a minute later, came the answer:

  “Death, are you joking with me?” and Dream knew exactly who to blame for this mishap. His dearest older sister, Teleute, had always been known for meddling in his business — Though, if he must confess, always having his best interests in mind. 

  After clearing everything up — That no, this wasn't Death's number, but rather her younger brother's — and directing the man to the right one, Dream thought that may have been the last he had seen of Hob Gadling. Oh, how wrong he had been. 

  The very next, at the very same time, another strange message woke him up. “Miso soup this time”, it read, being quickly followed by a picture of said dish. 

  To say Dream had been surprised to see another one of those texts wouldn't be a lie. To say he was utterly annoyed, would be too accurate. 

  “You already know this is not Death's number. Why still send me these messages?”, Dream had asked, mouth curling in displeasure as he read the following answer. 

  “Don't know, just thought I owed you a ‘thank you’ after your help yesterday. Didn't know what to say or get you, so soup, it is”. 

  And, despite not having been answered, the texts continued to appear the next day. And in the other one. And in the one right after it. And in the following days as well. 

  They always went through at the same time, somewhere around lunchtime, given or taken two or three minutes of difference. It was always soup and it never failed to wake Dream — Who, otherwise, would sleep until late evening, preferring to be awake when there was no sun or people to bother him. 

  Miso soup, chicken noodle soup, gazpacho, chicken and vegetable soup, zuppa toscana. If someone were to name a new type of soup, Dream was mostly certain that Hob Gadling would have tried that one already. Even the most obscure ones, like a duck blood soup, weren’t safe from him.

  Eventually, the wish to know why Hob only ate soup as lunch and why he still sent the photos to him won him over. There was something interesting about this man that didn’t seem bothered by short, curt answers — if there wasn’t even one to be read — and who seemed to cherish anything that Dream sent back. Then, talks about soup eventually become about anything else. Paintings, books they were reading that week, Dream’s nosy neighbour and the dog Hob adopted without meaning to. 

  The soup photos kept coming, marking what Hob affectionately called ‘Soup Hour’, but slowly started to morph into other types of food as well, some even being Dream’s own additions. 

  “What you looking at, boss?” Matthew said one day as Dream rolled his eyes at the screen of his phone. It portrayed another soup photo Hob had sent — A mushroom one, this time — and a single text underneath it (‘I think this one turned out quite alright, don’t you?’). They had been discussing the merits of always having soup for lunch and Hob had been a firm fan of how many different kinds of soup there were out there. A simple ‘No’ sufficed as answer enough. 

  “Nothing, please carry on,” he waved at him, putting his phone down and looking up at where both Matthew and Lucienne were waiting for him to pay attention. “What?”

  “Was that that Hob Gadling lad again?” Matthew asked, leaning over the table before Lucienne pulled him down. There was a small, knowing smile adorning her lips and Dream felt his eyes narrow at the sight of it. “What? It is him!”

  “Keep going, Matthew,” she prompted, but Dream didn’t miss the amused glint in her eyes as she looked between him and his phone. “You were talking about some partnerships that were of interest, I believe.”

  “Oh, yes, some clothing franchise wants to do a partnership with you and one of your nephews wants your help to promote one of his charity’s dinners,” Matthew continued, looking between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows before turning to his tablet again. 

  “Which charity? Which nephew?” Dream asked and his fingers itched when his phone trembled against the table top. He tried not to look at it, but, if Lucienne’s triumphant smile and Matthew’s judging eyes were anything to go by, he failed miserably. “Which franchise?” 

  “The cat one, Thomas and Dior.”

  Silence followed those words as Dream reached for his phone, deft fingers unlocking it at the same time Lucienne said something about taking a break. He nodded, not bothering to look up as he got up from his seat and left the room. Once his screen, two new notifications shone at him, daring and bright as the day. 

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Don’t you wanna come here and try it?’

  And, later when asked about this, Dream would simply smile and say nothing, but, for now, all he said was:   ‘Yes.’

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

Sandman Inktober 2023, Day 1 Dream.

So this was a very ambitious thing to do to begin inktober month! I don’t think I’ll be able to do pieces like this for the whole month but I was both tempted by a whole set of ink brushes as I was by my lovely friend who inspired me to do my own version of a Hypnos Dream of the Endless @mathomhouse-e ( psss if you click here you’ll see her own wonderful Hypnos Dream!)

Thank you @orionsangel86 for organizing this wonderful event! I hope I can do more and see more wonderful art inspired by Sandman 🖤

[tharkuun]

Last line tag thingy

About twenty thousand years ago, @cuubism and @the-apocrypha tagged me in one of these. Well, I'm nearly done this oneshot self-consciously given the temporary title of "Disclaimer i am not a surgeon" that i started about a year and a half ago, and here's a snippet from it!

The first time John Doe has a visitor, he’s accompanied by a couple of detectives. The mood in the ICU is anxious, a breath held in anticipation. The visitor – he’d signed in as 'Robert Gadling' – hesitates at the open doorway. It happens, sometimes, with first-time visitors. People that aren’t used to seeing loved ones fighting for their lives. Sometimes failing. (Too often, failing.) It can be easier to step away and pretend it isn’t happening at all. To his credit, this Robert bloke only seems to hesitate long enough to furtively glance between the wan figure on the bed – skin almost the same colour as the washed-out sheets, wrists again tied to the bedrail to stop him from picking at his skin – and the police at his back. “That your missing friend?” one of the coppers – the woman, with dark skin and a gentle demeanour – asks him. “Yeah,” Robert says. He sounds gutted. Utterly wrecked. “Yeah. That’s my friend. I didn’t even know he was – well.” He clears his throat. “That’s my friend,” he repeats, finally.

tagging @mathomhouse-e, @amielot, @quillingwords, @chaosheadspace, @five-and-dimes if anyone has anything they're working on!

[landwriter]

Oaths | Dream/Hob | 60K | Explicit | COMPLETED 🎉 Ch.12: An Eternity of This (2K)

Falling In Love, Magical Realism, Dream is a Beautiful Fey Creature and Hob is a Handsome Bandit, Protective Hob Gadling, Protective Dream of the Endless, Historical References, Scotland, Middle English, Border Reiving, Adventure & Romance, Fairy Tale Retellings, Alternate Universe - Historical/Medieval/Fairy Tale, finding beauty in hard times, Oaths & Vows, Curses, Outdoor Sex, First Time Blowjobs, Frottage, Anal, Kissing in the Rain, really a lot of banging, Hair Braiding, Dirty Talk, Ballads, Duty, Friendship/Love, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Canon Echoes, Self-Denial, Repression, Tenderness, Confessions, Bathing/Washing, Strangers to Lovers, Lovers to Friends, Friends to Idiots, BAMF Hob Gadling, (absolutely fucking feral Hob Gadling), unhinged words and deeds, or: a man and a fey walk into a meadow and they're both equally insane

Dream woke himself shivering in the morning, limbs trembling, convulsive. He laughed in quiet delight, then had to tightly clench his jaw to stop his teeth from clattering together and waking Hob. For so long, he had been as cold as stone and tree. He’d forgotten what it was like to be warm enough to feel chilled by sleeping on the earth. He ran a hand over the bumps across his skin wonderingly. Gooseflesh, he thought. He reached out and pressed a hand into the damp moss. When he took it away, his fingers ached to the bone. His face ached too. He touched his wet hand to his cheek and discovered it was because he was smiling. Tender and fragile and alive.

A bit of ballad, a sunrise, a prologue.

[Read on AO3]

in truth I can’t believe I’m making this post — not because I didn’t think I would finish — but because I can’t believe I had the audacity to start in the first place. this has been so special to me. thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and sent asks!

I didn’t have a beta, but some of you very much filled the role of honing the fic and/or making me SO stoked to work on it, whether it was with essay-length insightful comments or insane amounts of art or incredible memes or gorgeous playlists or composed music!!! it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or turned out this way without you. @that-banhus @fishfingersandscarves @fancy-rock-dove @mathomhouse-e @btwimkindagay @chubsonthemoon @tj-dragonblade and @mandolinearts

and @ anyone who ever reblogged a fic update post with unhinged tags…you made me beam at my phone like a dummy and i love you

[valeriianz]

it's been a while, but the brainworms would not stop festering until i wrote this little prequal to my original Vampire Hunter!Hob ficclet. dedicated to @mathomhouse-e, the biggest instigator for this au lol. thanks @quillingwords for some mad crazy beta skills <3 i appreciate you!

“Don’t look now, but that guy in the back has been staring at you since we sat down.”

Hob hummed as he took a long sip from his tankard for his mate’s benefit. Hob didn’t have to turn to confirm this; he’d felt the stranger’s eyes on him as soon as he’d entered the crowded pub, though he hadn’t spotted him yet. 

The revelation fascinated Hob now, after weeks and weeks of scattered moments where he had felt that itch of being watched, Hob could recognize the feeling and pinpoint it to one, singular person.

Their eyes had met a handful of times, Hob turning away politely at first, sometimes lengthening the stare with a curious look, or more recently, staring back with challenge in his gaze. Intentionally holding the man’s icy blue– visible even in the murky, darkened room– stare until Hob was forced to look away first, a chill running up his spine.

The feel of the stranger’s eyes on him had become frustratingly familiar. It was a bit hair-raising, to be sure. But it was also… alluring. Inviting. Titillating. 

Hob had begun dreaming of this mysterious man, drafting up introductions in his mind, anticipating a confrontation eventually. Whether their meeting would be easy or difficult was warring within Hob’s chest until he’d finally made a decision to confront the pale man with striking blue eyes. It seemed like divine intervention that, the day after making this decision, the stranger would appear in his usual spot, at Hob’s usual haunt, precisely as he sat down to join his friends.

“Want me to tell him to fuck off for ya?”

“Nah,” Hob downed the remainder of his pint before slipping off the barstool, tossing some coins on the counter. “I got it.”

Hob made his way to the man’s table, tucked away in a corner, where he sat alone. Where he always sat alone. The mud brown of the pub's interior seemed amplified by the yellow glow of the electric sconces on the walls. It made the White Horse’s patrons seem dull and muted, even those who wore many colors or laughed raucously. Hob’s stranger in the corner, however, seemed to push through the soft and warm glow like a supernova.

And strangely enough, he was dressed in all black. Darker than shadows and just as intangible, like the starless night sky when the moon was hiding. The lights hit his cloak and revealed a matte, velvet texture that looked rich and soft and clean. Too clean, too pressed. Like the man had walked straight out of a tailor’s and came right in here. The man stuck out like a sore thumb amongst everyone else, and yet no one seemed to be paying him any mind.

Hob kept eye contact as he drew near, his posture lax, unimposing, though he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. And he wondered, briefly, if his stranger could feel it too. The way his eyes seemed to brighten as Hob approached, the way the corner of his mouth began to curl, making Hob’s stomach twist with a mixture of unease and delight.

“Hello,” Hob greeted as he finally stepped up to the empty chair opposite the man. “May I sit?”

The man lifted one elegant dark brow in response and Hob took that as an affirmative, pulling out the rickety chair and dropping himself into it.

Hob had to remind himself how to breathe, looking upon the man who’d been unashamedly watching him for the past few weeks. The dark clad man was already a vision from across the room, his eyes alone making a statement. But up close he was devastating. His coal dark hair was thick and messy, long tendrils that framed his ghost-white skin and severe cheekbones like a painting. A vision of lust, secrecy, and– Hob realizes belatedly with a stab into his gut– danger.

And he hadn’t even spoken yet.

“Are you aware of how obviously you behave?” Hob managed to find his voice again, dredged up from where it had fled moments prior. “Maybe instead of staring at me all night, you can buy me a drink.”

The man across from him tilted his head a fraction, imperceptible. Hob forced his usual smirk, roguish and sly. The one he used countless times to woo women to his bed, as he waved down a barmaid.

“And what is obvious… about my behavior?” 

Hob looked twice at the man, unable to parse the words at first, convinced he had just heard a rumble of thunder outside. But as he stared, the stranger’s face became more and more curious, waiting for an answer. 

Hob swallowed. The question– spoken in a low murmur, deep and decadent– fluttered around his chest before finally settling somewhere low in his gut. Hob felt his bravado promptly leak out his ears.

“Ah. It’s not exactly what I’m used to,” Hob hid his hands under the table to hide how he began to fidget. “Typically a ‘hello’ or ‘how do you do’ is more acceptable than silently watching.”

The barmaid finally arrived and it gave Hob the excuse to pull his eyes away from the indigo sea swirling before him, almost hypnotic. He took a shuddering breath and blinked, staring up at the woman who was waiting for an order.

Hob ordered two cask ales, forgetting about the bold way he’d suggested the man buy his drink and operating now on autopilot. As the woman left, Hob brought his attention back to the enigmatic man before him, his skin prickling with gooseflesh at the realization he hadn’t moved an inch, piercing gaze still on Hob, posture straight and solid as a wooden stake.

“I was watching,” the man spoke again, his voice soporific. “Because I’m interested.”

Hob’s heart, which had finally calmed down a bit, flipped over in his chest. “In me?”

The man hummed, his chin tilting down, considering, while something akin to a smile tugged on his lips.

“In a way…” he replied cryptically. He spoke slowly, as if mulling each word over, making them deliberate. He closed his eyes for a moment and Hob belatedly realized the man hadn’t blinked once thus far.

“You are an apprentice.”

Hob couldn’t help it, he grinned, pulling one hand back on the table’s wooden surface to drum his fingers.

“How can you tell?”

The man tilted his chin up, taking a moment to study him and Hob felt his smile grow with the attention. Though there was something in the back of his head, tickling his base instincts of self-preservation. It was odd, Hob didn’t feel as though he was in any danger, but there was a certain… air about this gentleman. Hob couldn’t be sure yet, but there was definitely something off about him. Perhaps he was a lord– he certainly dressed the part. With his thick cloak, parted just enough to see an expensive looking waistcoat made from damask, the design threaded in gold that glinted with each microscopic movement.

The way he carried himself too, was with arrogance and power, and without a trace of sympathy. It was cold and hard. It was also breathtaking and Hob delighted in the man’s sharp gaze, his scrutiny, focused solely on him. 

Not just now, Hob had to remind himself with his own smug grin. But for the past few weeks.

“You dress the part,” he nodded down at Hob’s clothes. “But you are still young. I assume you’re in training.”

Hob looked down at himself, hardly dressed for style, but comfort. For easy movement during his training but also leather clad to protect against blunt force and brutal encounters. His coat, which he’d draped over the chair, had deep pockets for concealing weapons and the thick utility  belt around his waist had many compartments to hold his tools… though he had very few at the moment.

And like his stranger, Hob wore all black, to blend in with the night. He wouldn’t say what he was, even if the handsome man asked… it was frightening enough that he’d managed to even guess at his occupation thus far. 

“Good observation,” Hob said, offering nothing else.

The barmaid returned, setting their drinks on the table and leaving again with a smile.

Hob brought his own up for a long drink, for thirst and also to distract his hands, which desperately needed something to take hold of.

A beat passed before the stranger spoke again. “A priest?”

It’s the tone of the question that made Hob set his drink down slowly, swallowing deeply and eyeing his stranger again, his own brow arching. His tone was polite. As if he did know what Hob was and only asked to prompt him to reveal his true work. Like the man was playing dumb.

Hob looked down suddenly at the wooden cross hanging low on his chest, which is what might’ve provoked the inane suggestion. He laughed and he could hear in his own ears the edge to it.

“Far from it,” Hob tucked the cheap jewelry into his shirt. “Just superstitious, is all.”

The man hummed and seemed to relax, imperceptibly, in his chair. Hob took note of it with a curious expression

“And what about you?” Hob leaned back, fiddling with the handle of his pint. “What is your business?”

“Hardly worth mentioning.” The man responded quickly, his words premeditated. “I am curious though, young apprentice. Do I entice you?”

Again, Hob’s heart lurched at the forwardness. His blood racing through his veins and nearly making him dizzy. 

Unexpectedly, the stranger took a slow, deep breath through his nose, his chest rising with it and Hob unconsciously felt himself leaning forward. It is as though the man intended to pull Hob in, like he’d tied a rope around his chest and tugged. Hob caught himself on the table’s edge, forcing his eyes down at the man’s untouched drink and took a shaky breath, stolen from him, back into his lungs.

Hob laughed, shaking his head, pulling himself back up and hoping he hadn’t made too much of a fool of himself. His chest and neck were burning.

“What kind of question is that?”

For the first time all night, the man took his hands from where they’d been hidden under the table and clasped them on the surface. Hob sees no rings but couldn’t help but to fixate on his long pale fingers, his knuckles smooth as silver bullets. Hob wondered if they’d be just as hard and cold, too.

“You approached me. You sat at my table.” His hands turned palm up, fingers spreading wide. “What kind of question do you think it is?”

Hob laughed again, nerves getting the best of him. His young, traitorous heart was like a racehorse galloping along his ribcage.

“I’m afraid to answer that question,” but Hob smirked anyway, taking his drink up again to distract himself.

A small, barely there smile crept through his stranger’s carefully composed visage. A proper smile filled with pure amusement and– Hob blinked dumbly as realization settles in– desire. His eyes seemed to glint with excitement, hunger.

Ah, that was it. Like looking upon something you craved, pupils dilating with it and lips unconsciously parting, which Hob’s stranger did now. It was an intoxicating sight, and Hob could only stare, caught like a mouse in a trap.

Then he rose, so fluidly and gracefully that it took Hob a moment to even register that he was staring up at the man.

“What’s your name?” Hob asked, his voice gone quiet, awestruck.

The man hummed again, eyelids low, considering.

“Next time.”

He set a gold coin on the table, right next to his untouched ale, and left.

[virgo-dream]

today’s dream drawing has a little more of a realistic approach than I usually do! It’s also inspired by my fav sad wet cat dream from @avelera’s giving sanctuary 💖 I also ended up taking a lot of style inspo from @mathomhouse-e’s art without even noticing! It was a pretty fun study indeed ✨

[notallsandmen]

@mathomhouse-e for @dreamlingforukraine gave me the opportunity to write an epilogue to Putting Out Fire With Gasoline — this time, inspired by Depeche Mode’s Enjoy The Silence, and taking place on June 7th, 1990.

And I will yet again leap at the opportunity to share @mathomhouse-e ‘s stunning artwork for this fic, specifically The Bratty Bow

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

Last sentence game

I was tagged by @just-french-me-up! Thank you kindly ❤️

I am sure no one who has been follow me for any significant amount of time will be surprised that I'm giving you a little more than just one line... I just can't help myself ;)

“How did— You.” “Me…?” said Hob, somewhat taken aback. Had this man—his…clustermate?—already caught a glimpse of him without his noticing? The man did not answer, and a second later Hob was swaying back in his chair in the pub with a sensation of having just been bodily kicked out of an exclusive club by an overeager bouncer. He squinted as his eyes tried to readjust themselves to going from sunlight to the much more dimly lit pub, then started as he realised that the strange man had followed him there and stood by the side of the table, taking in the surroundings. “Hm. England.” He turned his head towards the nearest window. “London.” “You—” “The South Bank. Northwestern Greenwich.” His eyes fell to the table, and he reached down to where Hob had left his wallet after paying for the whisky and flipped it open. With deft fingers, he slid the driving licence out and gave it a cursory glance before casually tossing it back on the table. Looking down at Hob with dispassionate disdain, he said, “You may tell your master to employ more careful spies in future, Robert Gadling,” before disappearing again. Hob blinked. When he looked down at the wallet, he found it still closed and undisturbed. “I— What…?”

"Wait," you may say to yourself, "are you writing a Sense8 AU in the year of our Lord 2024?" - Yes. Yes, I am. "Weren't you working on something else?" you may then ask. "Perhaps even two things?" - Yes. "Didn't you say you had a policy against letting yourself have more than two WiPs going at any given time to increase the chances of actually finishing what you've started?" - ...No comment.

I'll go ahead and tag @mathomhouse-e, @aralezinspace, @im-not-corrupted, @beatnikfreakiswriting and @tj-dragonblade this time 😊

[orionsangel86]

Sandtober Day 1 - Your Art for the prompt "Dream"

I absolutely ADORE all the gorgeous Day 1 Sandtober art you guys shared yesterday! Thank you so much to everyone who participated in day 1. Below are all the artworks I could find that were tagged #Sandtober2023

If you missed out on day 1 but still want to participate, please see the Sandtober 2023 prompt list here.

Please do take a look through and reblog/share these artists amazing work for the first days prompt:

Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling by @teejaystumbles

2. Dream of the Endless/Lord Morpheus by @zorawitch

3. Dream of the Endless/Lord Morpheus by @koresephone66

4. "If dreams disappear..." by @klarahimmeltheendless

5. Daniel Hall the new Dream by @thirrith

6. Dream of the Endless and a Haiku by @writing-for-life

7. Dream of the Endless by @missingrache

8. Dream of the Endless by @harukaspiegel

9. Hypnos Dream of the Endless by @the-cloudy-dreamer

10. Lord Morpheus tries on a corset by @parasocialite

11. Hypnos Dream of the Endless by @mathomhouse-e

12. Roman Dream of the Endless by @quillingwords

13. Dream of the Endless by @merinsedai

14. Dream of the Endless by @milune-vox

15. Lord Morpheus by @the-cloudy-dreamer

16. Calligraphy by @chaosclimber

17. Dream of the Endless by @cosmic--static

18. Rose Walker Dreams of Lucien and Morpheus by @crystal46uwu

19. Dream of the Endless by @timesorceror

20. Dream's escape by @mostly-morpheus-and-myths

21. Dream of the Endless by @murphyoftheendless

Bonus! @brunettebeanz shared their beautiful song "Dream's Lullaby" for the day 1 prompt and if you haven't listened to it already please do so now because it is hauntingly beautiful and so fitting for Lord Morpheus. You can find the link here.

It was also really lovely to see plenty of other artists choose to draw Dream of the Endless for the official Inktober prompt list challenge. I am only not showcasing their art here because they are doing the official challenge and not the specific Sandtober2023 art challenge.

If you still want to submit art for the day 1 prompt you absolutely can! Just tag it #Sandtober2023 and tag me too if you want to to make sure I don't miss you!

Day two's prompt is "Nightmare" and I have already seen some gorgeous art for today. Please don't forget to use the Sandtober2023 tag and to tag me too so I don't miss it!

[wizardofgoodfortune]

tagged forever ago by @teejaystumbles & @mathomhouse-e, just remembered to do this now. thank you!!

this little guy maker is so cute!! i started out trying to be as accurate as possible then just went with what looked good color-wise. it all started with the hair; i haven't had pink hair in forever, but thought it would be fun! though i do still have those clothes; just not in those exact colors sadly.

tagging, with no pressure of course (and if you've done it already, show me your lil guy!): @rooftopwreck @ghostboyjules @danexist @maikhiwi00 @backatthebein @quillingwords @maccca-chino @the-cloudy-dreamer @caitlyn-kirammans @milkydonut and whoever sees this and wants to do it!!

[missingrache]

@dsudis tagged me for the last line tag game (hi hello thank you friend!)—but at the moment I only have writing concepts and nothing actually started. They are, in very short terms:

-Dream, Hob, roses owed since 1589

-Hob & Bast, post Wake

-alive!Jessamy, gothic heroine AU, role playing game background fic

-Hadesgame crossover, Nyx is a good mom, Dream gets a fucking hug, Zagreus pov

We will call this an accountability post—I would like to get at least one of these into some kind of actual shape.

In the meantime here is what I am spending my time on, instead of taxes:

Dream’s Special Hat, work in progress, plus Zagreus Hellprince sitting on the pattern pieces.

May I perhaps tag @windsweptinred and @castillon02 and @mathomhouse-e and @finallyhaunted and @fangedprinx? With no pressure involved just I’m thinking of you, friends.

[valeriianz]

last line tag game! tagged by @mathomhouse-e, thanks! <3

i've been in an absolute funk lately, but i actually have something to share! a Hitman's Bodyguard AU that has taken over my brain. here's more than one line, because im very excited for this lol:

The sound of gunshots rain in the air, breaking Dream’s mulling and causing him to sigh deeply, slouching now in his stool.

“And there he goes again,” he speaks to no one in particular; the bartender has ducked down with a horrified yell, but Dream figures he’s as good an audience as he’ll get.

“Even if I did save him. Again.” Dream looks down at the man cowering before him. He can hear how people are screaming around him, running and taking cover. “You know what he’d say? He’d say ‘ooh I had it all figured out. Before you got here.’” Dream scoffs, shaking his head. A bullet zips by his head, but Dream doesn’t flinch. 

“‘I guess my thing’s just better than your thing,’” Dream continues to mock, pitching his voice higher, still holding up the shot glass, but not drinking from it.

“You think he likes me?”

if i didnt have work this thing would be finished today, i swear haha. tagging (for lines or art), with no pressure: @hardly-an-escape @tj-dragonblade @chaosheadspace @rooftopwreck @quillingwords

[the-cloudy-dreamer]

Last Line Tag Game

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Thank you @mathomhouse-e & @ginoehfor tagging me!!

So I was hoping I would be able to write some of my gothic romance dreamling! AU so I could share it with you all but alas...no time! adult life is cruel like that BUT I do have a couple of drawings so here:

A redraw of Levi Ackerman's last panel in the AOT manga:

And my beloved Dream of the Endless:

Both of this are mostly done ( specially Dream's that one just needs a few details here and there) I've been using both of this as testing grounds for some cool color + lighting so I might be able to finish this under the guise of practice this week but we'll see.

I shall tag @virgo-dream @rainy-days-and-nights @wolfgirl-valentineand uhhhh whoever else wants to do it? I'm so bad at tagging people on top of my head, so sorry 😔 !!!