#progress on hob

[luckybyrdrobyn]

Here’s your update #1 for tonight

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

My controversial opinion about Hob Gadling is that I believe he’s absolutely the sort of guy that “puts things behind him”, and tries to wash his hands clean of the things he feels icky about. This is implied pretty well in the show, with him blithely moving from soldiering and robbery to printing, from slaving to… whatever it was he was doing in the 19th century instead. That being said, this is not at all the same as actively trying to atone, or even making a concerted effort to be a better person, and I really wish fandom could tell the difference!

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Extremely late Dreamling Day post.

It’s just a WIP but it’s all I’ve managed to be able to do.

[theunromanticized]

Just wanted to share a picture of a thing I'm working on rn 'v'

[dragonnan]

Am I working on my next art based on a recent Mermaid!Dream AU ask sent to @gabessquishytum?

Possibly...

[avelera]

My "Hob loses 100 years of memory per day" amnesia fic "one-shot" is at 32,000 words and I just got to 1489 lollll

[secondjulia]

"I've known a lot of people, girlie."

This morning, instead of laboring for capital as required, I was daydreaming about how — canonically & in contrast to the typical fanfic portrayal — Hob never actually becomes less of a jerk. And my brain was arguing like Well, he was kind of sweet with Gwen, wasn't he? So I went back and read that last scene at the Ren Faire &... I mean, no, he becomes morally a better person, but he's still kinda a jerk. And I 100% forgot about him calling Death GIRLIE!

😳

I mean, oh boy, are you lucky she's so understanding, Hob!

[nightshadelemonade]

Working on a Hualian piece... We're all, collectively, gonna ignore the umbrella, Kay? Kay. It'll get better. I swear.

[rriavian]

Lemon balm-- sympathy. "Oh no. We aren't as different as I thought."

For Hobrinthian! :)

I had two different ideas for this but forgot one of them until I'd scrolled through my notes in my phone. Still! I hope you enjoy. This is actually part of a larger fic I'm writing but does (or should) make sense as a standalone. This is also so so rough but I keep staring at it and not changing anything so I need to just post it. This is a new pairing for me and I’m a little nervous but I hope you like it! :)

Lemon balm-- sympathy. "Oh no. We aren't as different as I thought."

-

1689

-

The less said about that year the better. 

But what Hob will say is this. 

The years leading up to that meeting could have been far far different, but even though Hob has been ignoring him since Eleanor died the Corinthian doesn’t let the mob drown him.

Somehow he knows—another instance of that same strange preternatural awareness that has befuddled Hob for centuries—has learned the townsfolks plans in time to thwart them. The result is that the Corinthian storms into his house before they arrive, ignores Hob’s alarmed shout as he drags him from it by a fistful of his hair and shoves him into a carriage waiting nearby. An explanation comes then, stilted, clipped, and then the Corinthian is half climbing inside just as Hob gathers his wits enough to stutter out an almost unintelligible plea for one last memento, the pictures he always carries not enough, there something else he doesn’t want to be lost in that house.

The Corinthian growls.

For a moment Hob fears he won’t listen—something feral in the baring of his teeth, the half snarl so familiar even twisted in anger—the golden blond of his hair turned white by the light of the moon. It glances off the lenses of the glasses too, refracts, turns them into eyes that gleam in the dark like a silver mirror of Hob’s Stranger. Then the Corinthian turns away, shoves backwards from the carriage as if needing to release tension, storms back to the house, returns far quicker than Hob thought he would. A small box is tossed his way with a sneer, an expression that remains as the Corinthian sits down opposite him without saying a single word.

Instead he raps sharply on the wood to signal they are ready to depart.

The sudden lurch into jolting movements is not so destabilising as this, as sitting opposite this unchanged creature Hob has known for two hundred years and trying not to shudder under his glare.

For a long time Hob doesn’t dare speak, has to adjust to this first, to the weight of whatever the Corinthian really is rearing out of the luring guise he wears. There is no sensual smirk obscuring it, no seduction here; Hob thinks that seething anger has never been so well communicated as in this stillness, as in how he’s being watched like prey to be culled instead of kept. It’s silence laying like a shroud, an imposition of the Corinthian’s will, but as Hob adjusts to it he thinks that, unlike the Stranger, this quiet is not quite in his gift.

It’s effective but it isn’t quite so natural.

And Hob still has time for jokes.

“Thanks for not letting me die.” He says wryly; hesitates, wonders if that sounded too glib, thinks of the box clutched in his hands and adds. “I would have been fine you know.”

“Be grateful they did not plan to try and burn you,” The Corinthian says softly; the first words he’s spoken since that curt explanation, both a stinging rebuke and an odd sort of rapture in his rolling tone, an almost longing in the picture he paints with words. “I may have been tempted to allow that.”

Hob can’t help but shudder at the very thought. 

Then he opens his mouth to reply and is immediately cut off.

“Sulking for eighty odd years like a fool. Crumbling after barely three hundred years of life. You’d have deserved it if they had.” The Corinthian continues viciously, disgusted, repulsed as if he considers Hob’s admittedly pathetic state contagious. “I could have left you to die, to resurrect with the lesson still choking your lungs, allowed you to continue this pathetic cycle until you finally broke. But—“

This time the stillness makes Hob shiver.

The Corinthian’s expression is unreadable in a different way than usual.

There is an almost softness in the lines of his face, lurking in the corners of his mouth, an almost pain. Hob remembers that the Corinthian had known Eleanor too, remembers two hundred years of encounters, of being shoved down onto a bed and held there. Sometimes Hob had been the one doing the shoving. He remembers the Stranger’s question in 1589, his affront at not being asked for permission, how the Corinthian had come to him slyly that evening and laughed when Hob had glared at him because why didn’t you warn me.

“But?” Hob asks.

The expression begins to sour, some of the almost softness fading from view.

“You are his too.”

A scowl. 

“So start acting like it.”

[magnusbae]

Y'all made "You dare" a meme while its equal is right fucking there:

[valiantstarlights]

Oh my that’s a lot of WIPs 🤣 How about Which hob?

'Which hob' is actually short for 'Which Hob Gadling Are You? Quiz.' 😂 It's just something I made for fun, and not meant to be taken seriously.

(A few hours later...) Okay, it's done! 💃 I've queued it up, so please wait for it! 🙇‍♀️😊

Ask about my WIPs

[luckybyrdrobyn]

I have spent far too much time drawing this funky little guy my lord

Lineart version under cut

[strandhai]

So this is Wip wednesday and @rockerboyrepo tagged me to share one of my WIP's with you all. Well currently I just have the one of the second fic in my The Sandman Series "Rêves d'amour et de mort" (Dreams of love an death)

This Part is called "Notre amour dure toujours" (our love still lasts)

And before we start I will tag some people too:

@mrssimply because you helped with the french AND mostly because RockerboyRepo is right, you are writing something, aren't you? Also @m-lter , because well I think you now why xD and @sandyman-on-a-pirateship because I am curious how your writing is going.

Now enjoy my WIP

Warning for massive Comic Spoilers

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Hey look one of those 15-20 WIPs I have to do…

[brownlupine]

Next diorama piece will be FengQing related

[lunylune]

~The goblin court~

Summary:

After the heart hunt Hob came face to face with lady Boil and lord Blemish. Dear oh dear… Lady Boil lifted an eyebrow. “Care to explain that whole interaction?” Right, Hob hadn’t realized that the members of the courts might have been observing, amusing themselves with the competition. Throwing things too in case of the goblins, probably, causing a ruckus. Hob raked a hand over his snout, frantic. “I don’t know…!”

One might think the tone Hob was taking with Lady Boil was improper. But you see, there weren’t really any titles in the goblin “court”. No lords, ladies and nonbinary royalty. Only the underlings and the ruler. This newest iteration of the goblin court under the most recent king was much more of a family. And... Hob was that king... And no one but the goblin court knew about it. This was a problem when he was rapidly falling in love with the mistrex of ceremonies, Delloso de la Rue.

~~~~~~~~~~

An AU where Hob is actually the goblin king (but he would rather be anything else) and the goblin court has a bit more going on than just throwing it back. The other courts aren't ready for this in the slightest.