chaosheadspace - Tumblr blog

[chaosheadspace]

If you're looking for hurt/comfort prompts, how about trans!Dream coming out to his transphobic parents and it not going well, and ends up in a shouting match where Dream vents all his rage at his parents. Hob, Dream's loving boyfriend is there holding his hand the whole time and comforts him afterwards.

Of course, don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to

i tweaked it just a little bit

--

In retrospect, Dream probably should have waited to do this until after he was no longer living at home. In retrospect, he should have gone to university on the other side of the planet so he wouldn't be pushed closer to the brink of insanity with every second spent in his parents' house.

Then again, if he had gone to another university he would never have met Hob.

If he had gone to another university he wouldn't have had Hob there with him as he tried to figure himself out. To hold him through crisis after crisis. He wouldn't have had to hear the absolutely wretched things his parents said about Hob, about what a terrible influence he was, how he corrupted Dream, how Dream left for university as their perfect obedient daughter and came back wrong and it was Hob's fault somehow. He wouldn't have had to hear those things. But he also wouldn't have known Hob.

He wouldn't have a key to Hob's flat, and be abusing the privilege now by sitting here on the couch even though Hob's not home yet, even though the term's ended and he didn't think they would see each other for some time, nor that this is necessarily what Hob meant in giving him a key. But he doesn't have anywhere else to go.

The short train ride over gave him time to breathe and he's calmed down, mostly. It may not have been the most well-timed decision, finally snapping on his parents like that, but he just reached his wit's end. It had been another mean comment about Hob--whom his parents had never even met--that did it. He's used to the constant criticisms of himself but he can't bear hearing it about Hob.

So he left. The slammed door and shout of don't come back until you start acting right echoing behind him.

He never would have done that before. And his parents seem to think one year of university made him do a one-eighty turn and become some kind of monster overnight. Dream thinks he was just quiet for so long he forgot what his own voice sounded like.

But he's calm now. He thinks. He's just... going to ask Hob if he can stay the night and then he'll figure out what he's going to do next. That's all.

Keys jangle in the lock. The door swings open and Hob comes in, carrying a bag of groceries.

"Oh!" he says, upon seeing Dream--sounding less surprised than Dream would have expected, considering it's been a few weeks since they've seen each other in person and now Dream is just in his house. "Dream. Should've let me know you were coming, I'd have pushed the grocery run off until tomorrow-- have you been waiting here for ages?"

Dream's calm. He is.

His lower lip wobbles and he bursts into tears.

"Dream." Hob drops the groceries--Dream thinks he hears at least one jar of something shatter on the floor--and rushes over to him. "Dream. Hey. What's going on?"

Dream lets Hob fold him into a hug, and says, "I fought with my parents. Yelled at them. Like I never have before."

"Probably deserved it," Hob says immediately, and Dream lets out a choked laugh.

"They did." It is hard to always be sure of this when they are criticizing him. Easier when they are criticizing Hob. "Only... I don't think they will want me to come back now. Not unless I... recant. On several matters."

"Oh." Hob pulls away far enough to look at him, hands bracing Dream's shoulders. For a moment, his expression creases in sorrow. Then steels in familiar determination. "You'll just have to stay here for the summer then."

"Here?" Dream says. Hob's flat is already tiny; he is on a student budget after all. Now he will share it with Dream, too?

As he does with so many things already. His time, his kindness. His ferocity in insisting that Dream own who he is no matter what anyone has to say about it. His clothes, when he just started transitioning--Dream had had almost enough gender-neutral clothes already to be getting on with, but Hob had still given him one of his jackets, and conveniently never asked for the jumper Dream had already borrowed-slash-stolen back.

His hugs, too. His kisses.

"Yeah, it'll give me a chance to finally fix your hair," Hob says, running one hand through the jagged mess of Dream's hair as he wipes away his tears with the other.

On top of everything else, Hob had been the one to cut Dream's hair once he'd finally worked up the courage to do it. He'd done an admittedly pretty uneven job of it, but Dream hasn't had the heart to fix it because the memory of it makes him smile. The look of horror on Hob's face when he'd seen the end result, his despairing wail of it's so straight and silky when it's long how was I supposed to know it would stick up so much!? And yes, Dream's hair does stick up all over the place now, but it's fluffy and he likes to run his hands through it. And he likes even more when Hob runs his hands through it.

"I like it this way," he says.

Hob smiles crookedly. "Of course."

He scrubs his hand through it again, then cradles Dream's cheek in his palm. God, Dream's missed him so much during these few weeks since the term ended. Hob kisses his cheek, and says, "I'm sorry your parents are such shitheads, darling."

His way of phrasing it makes Dream laugh, and then he wraps his arms around Hob's shoulders again, laughing and crying and leaning in to him, so relieved to have him he could just keel over. He would not have had the courage for any of this if he had not had Hob behind him. Perhaps his parents were right about Hob being a corrupting influence, but in the best way possible.

"Come on, I'll make you dinner," Hob says, tugging him up to his feet. "We can celebrate the new holiday of telling your parents where to shove it. I got pasta and--" he freezes. Lets out a long, whistling breath of realization through his teeth. "That was the sauce I heard shattering before, wasn't it."

"I think so," Dream says, and can't help his giggle. Hob sighs, then smiles.

"Well, you're just going to have to help me figure out something else, then. Come on."

He takes Dream's hand and tows him over to the tiny kitchen. Hob's hand is warm in his, his grip strong, and for the first time since leaving school at the end of term Dream feels like the tension actually leaves his body. With Hob holding him like that, Dream feels like everything will turn out okay.

Somehow, with Hob, it always is.

[chaosheadspace]

100% convinced that Hob would wear this every single night just to annoy Dream. And maybe to provoke him to rip it off his body

[chaosheadspace]

[chaosheadspace]

Last line tag game, tagged by @tj-dragonblade, thank you! Have some more Beauty and the Beast AU:

Rosie did not like Cornell, although if anyone asked her she wouldn't be able to say why. His smile was too hungry, she thought, more a sneer than a smile. Too much teeth. But as it were, nobody else believed her. About Hob, about the monster. And so she let him in.

"It is real", she said, as she closed the door of the workshop behind Cornell. "I haven't imagined it. I saw. It locked me in the tower."

Cornell turned and looked at her, his smile unwavering. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. I have seen it myself, that monster of yours. You say it kidnapped Hob?”

“It did,” she said cautiously. Cornell would be the first adult to believe her, and somehow that did not reassure her. “Well, kind of. He stayed so I did not have to stay.”

“How noble of him,” Cornell said, and now there was a hint of something sharp in his tone, like steel. “To sacrifice himself for you. How brave.”

Tagging @valeriianz, @rexwrendraws, @amielot, @academicblorbo, @teejaystumbles, @carnelianmeluha (no pressure. If you want, leave it be for half a year or ignore entirely :* )

[chaosheadspace]

Dream has been hearing rumors (those biddies love to gossip about Dream's family) that Orpheus has gotten into an inappropriate relationship. Something, something "sugar baby", something, something f*cking an older man.

Dream doesn't want to interfere in Orpheus's life, but the Endless family, and Dream himself, have money, not as much as in their storied past, but enough that Orpheus doesn't have to whore out his young ass for money.

Dream isn't even judging, he just want his son not to make mistakes similar to the ones that Dream made in his youth. Dream knows how seductive those older men can be....hell Dream is still young himself (not a twink anymore certainly, but Dream had Orpheus young, so he doesn't look like the father of a college student.).

Suffice to say, Dream learns the name of the man supposedly paying for Orpheus's ass and goes to see him, maybe he can warn him off Orpheus. R. Gadling has something like 10 or 15 years on Dream, hopefully Dream can get him to see reason.

💶 💶 💶 💶 💶

Hob would have liked it to be known, if he was interested in talking to those judgmental society b*tches, that he does not need to pay a young man for sex. Thank you very much. He might like to take care of his lovers, but so far he draws the line at 30-year age differences. He is not that much of a creeper.

Orpheus is a fantastic young man, a musical prodigy, and Hob knows some people in the industry. All he did was offer introductions, that Orpheus, with his gift, would have most likely developed on his own, in time. He is not sleeping with a boy young enough to be his son,,,his son Robin introduced them for goodness sake!

When Orpheus's father comes to Hob is high dungeon, judgingly talking about inappropriate relationships and all but screaming at Hob, in his beautiful deep voice, for Hob to stop sleeping with his son -- Hob might have fallen in love on the spot. Blush high on his cheeks, hair a mess, looking like he just woke up from a good f*ck, Hob wanted to bite.

And mess with him a little,,,,,Hob offered (jokingly he thought) to stop sleeping with Orpheus if his father took his place in Hob's bed. He was expecting more yelling, not Morpheus Endless to say yes on the spot.

Oh Dream...... you poor little horny idiot. Trying so hard to be the best dad, but Orpheus is cringing SO hard.

Hob really was joking about exchanging Orpheus for Morpheus, and then Dream goes ahead and looks so sincere and so sexy... but Hob isn't a bad person (not anymore) so he sighs and explains that it was a joke. He's not fucking anyone right now, especially not Dream’s kid. He is in fact in the middle of a very long dry spell, and yes he might be going into too much detail now but at least Morpheus looks like he believes him. He sighs and smoothes down his hair and Hob is almost disappointed to see that anger fade away. Morpheus does at least blush prettily and say "call me Dream", so that's. A nice development.

And then Dream asks if Hob was joking about wanting to sleep with him, and if he thinks that Dream is too old to be a sugarbaby? Because he'd actually be willing to give it a try... And he says it in this teasing, flirty way that goes right to Hob’s dick. He's desperately hoping that his dryspell might finally be over. But he's going to have to pull out all the stops and really woo this delicious man.

Before Dream knows it, he's being whisked off to Hob’s box at the opera for a night of champagne and beautiful music. Hob explains that he doesn't take just anyone up to his box - only pretty boys that he really wants to spoil. Dream nearly melts into a puddle over being called a "boy". And yes, he's still relieved when Hob confirms that he never took Orpheus for a night at the opera.

Apparently Dream’s penchant for older guys really hasn't faded away, because he's getting butterflies whenever Hob puts a hand on his back to guide him, or orders their drinks with polite authority. If Orpheus was fucking Hob, then Dream would absolutely be fighting his own son tooth and nail over this man. Dream is embarrassed by his own horniness but not enough to stop - maybe he's doesn't actually need a sugar daddy, but he sure as hell WANTS this one <3

[chaosheadspace]

Asking for Mermay prompts!🐠🦑

With May coming up I went looking for MerMay prompts, but I didn't feel like using the lists I found. So instead of making my own I wanted to ask my mutuals and followers to send me prompts, preferably short!

It can be anything merpeople related, and, if you want to specify, preferably for Sandman/Dreamling! Dead Boy Detectives is also a new thing I like so feel free to send me prompts for that, too, if you like! If you do not specify your prompt I'll chose which characters to draw or write for. I'd be especially happy if you gave me ideas for Hell or High Water stuff, but something new is also fine! I'll be sure to have fun!

I do not promise fic or art, I will see what your prompt makes me do, alright?

Thank you!! 🥰

[chaosheadspace]

OKAY series of polls about sock preferences because i'm a curious autistic fuck:

(if you don't wear socks don't answer any of the other questions)

[chaosheadspace]

"Robert Gadling, you dare..." "We've been over this, love. Can I kiss you now?" ".............. You may."

(used a still is from the movie Remainder, 2015—i'm so sorry Arsher, my baby TT_TT)

[chaosheadspace]

I SEE YOU HAVE A TAKE ON MER HOB MAY I HEAR ABOUT MER HOB

YOU ABSOLUTELY MAY, even if it took me longer to respond than intended, oops. But! Mer-Hob is slowly turning into a different fic than originally imagined last year. Which is fine, and good, because what I'd originally imagined just wasn't working. I think I can confidently place him back on the wip list now with a better idea of the shape he'll have moving forward. And for you, thank you for your patience, here is their freshly-drafted first kiss scene:

"Dream?"

Dream glances to where Hob sits beside him, tail fin drifting idly in the water near Dream's bare feet. Dream had brought chocolate, again; the delight Hob had displayed the first two times was something he wanted to see again, and again, and again. He wanted to find every way possible to bring joy to Hob, to make that warm smile light up, to bring his laughter bubbling forth.

The chocolate has been finished, though, and Hob sounds…tentative; Dream's brow creases. "Yes?"

"I've got a question for you. Or. Well. Not so much a question, as something I'd like to tell you." He's tilted his head slightly, is toying with the lowest spine of his ear-fin. "It's. It's—I've been trying to tell you, like I would another mer, but I don't think you get it. And why would you, culturally, you've got no way to know if I don't explain it first right? So I thought, maybe I should just. Try it the human way?"

Dream is perplexed, not sure he entirely follows what Hob is trying to say, but then Hob is leaning closer, leaning in, as if he means to—

His lips touch Dream's, and Dream's heart stops as his brain catches up. Hob. Is kissing him—

Except it's not exactly a kiss, has none of the common elements aside from two pairs of lips in contact; Hob is very still, holding that touch for another instant, and then he pulls back.

Dream's heart thuds in his chest, tripping faster; he can feel how wide his eyes are and how his mouth has fallen slightly open, but all he can see is the hopeful uncertainty in the warm depthless brown of Hob's eyes.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right. But a kiss is how you say you like someone, right?"

"I. Yes." Dream is drowning in the instant-replay inside his own brain. Hob. Had kissed him. Hob had kissed him. Hob had kissed him—

"Well. I like you. And I think maybe…maybe you might um. Like me too?"

Dream manages a nod. "Mmhm." His heart is racing.

"Well!" Hob looks delighted if still nervous, and his tail flicks up in the water with a splash. "That's good, then! Brilliant! Okay!" He smiles, all warmth and happy energy. "Okay."

"Merfolk do not kiss, then?" Dream is slowly processing, still catching up, still circling helplessly around the bright spot of Hob kissed me, Hob LIKES me.

"Not many, nope. And I've never. But I've seen enough humans and human stuff to get the idea. Did I do it right?"

"Right enough. However." Boldness surges up in Dream, riding the bubbling tide of joy curling higher within his chest. "Can I. May I show you, what observation alone does not perhaps convey?"

"Of course," Hob says, curiosity in the tilt of his eyebrows, and Dream leans in.

It's soft, sweet; he fits his lips gently to Hob's and presses, brushes them together and apart and together again, aching with the fulfillment of this long-held wish. He is kissing. Hob. And Hob is kissing back, tentatively matching the movement of Dream's mouth on his, and Dream is dizzy with it. His hands yearn to hold, to touch; he brings one up and lets his fingertips flutter lightly to rest on Hob's cheek, away from the delicate spread of his ear-fin, away from the curve of his neck where his gills are tightly sealed. And when Hob reaches carefully to touch him in kind, Dream's heart soars.

A long moment passes before he ends the kiss at last; he draws back just enough to see, to watch Hob's eyes blink slowly open.

"Oh," Hob breathes, voice full of softness and wonder, and his beautiful eyes shine warm with the same.

~ Mer-Hob wip tag for the other recent chunk and some older little bits that may just wind up orphaned

[chaosheadspace]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[chaosheadspace]

sandman

[chaosheadspace]

Dream of The Endless (Lord Morpheus), from The Sandman

Please reblog for a larger sample size.

[chaosheadspace]

i want 60 thousand votes by next thursday

[chaosheadspace]

Mind jumped immediately to a very pouty Dream, serving 1489 Hob some ale because he gave his sister lip about staying connected to humanity and she thought that would be a decent consequence

well Fuck you *puts your blorbo in a serving wench outfit and puts them to work at the local tavern*

[chaosheadspace]

Dreamling x Shrek AU

Time to make everyone angry with this fantastic AU that hit me in the face due to Hob's 1489 outfit. And after a discussion with the wonderful @teejaystumbles I present to you:

Hob:

Dream/Nightmare:

Matthew:

Mother Night and Father Time:

Desire:

Burgess:

The Corinthian:

(although Teejay envisions Hob as Fiona and Dream as Shrek, but we can figure it out 😁)

[chaosheadspace]

So we all know that Tumblr is US-centric. But to what degree? (and can we skew the results of this poll by posting it at a time where they should be asleep?)

Reblog to increase sample size!

[chaosheadspace]

Page 110

Previous

Start from the beginning >>>