#magnusbae

[mayhemspreadingguy]

teething-puppy.png

A gift for my beloved @magnusbae ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡).

[cuubism]

I complained that Morpheus's season 2 cemetery fit wasn't tits-out, @magnusbae said "tits in outfits are so devastating because you know there's tits to be seen but they're in," I decided that's something Hob would say while drunk and that he should say it to Dream's face. And here we are.

--

“Listen,” Hob says, with the slurred, utter conviction of the very intoxicated, “listen. This’s. Important.”

“I am sure,” Dream agrees, sipping his wine. He himself is not drunk, but he’s gaining a surprising amount of amusement from watching Hob.

“You listening?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” Hob sighs, looking down into his glass. “You’re a good listener.”

Before Dream can respond to this, Hob shakes himself.

“But listen. S’such a tragedy you know?”

“What is?”

“Tits,” Hob says passionately, and Dream chokes on his wine.

“In,” he manages, once he’s swallowed and not asphyxiated, which felt dangerously possible despite his nonhuman form, “what way?”

“Always covered up,” Hob says mournfully, face crumbling. “Should be more societal—” he stumbles over the words, tongue heavy in his mouth, “socially acceptable to just. Be tits out. You know?”

Dream is not certain he himself has a strong opinion on the matter. He does not spend much time contemplating others’ breast tissue.

“Perhaps one day it will be,” he says, in an attempt to soothe Hob’s devastated expression.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Hob agrees, and raises his glass to Dream’s in a toast to the matter.

Dream obligingly clinks their glasses, and after Hob has drunk, swaps Hob’s glass of beer for a glass of water. Hob doesn’t seem to notice.

“Horrible to know that they’re there and you can’t even see them,” Hob continues.

“Torturous,” Dream agrees. “Unsurvivable.”

“Nah nah nah,” Hob counters, waving a hand. “Tits is a reason to survive.”

“I see,” Dream says, hiding a smile. He suspects Hob will be too hungover to even remember this in the morning. Probably it is for the best.

“Eleanor had great tits,” Hob sighs. “Among other things.”

For a moment Dream worries his cheerful drunkenness will tip over into melancholy, but then Hob adds, seemingly oblivious to how he’s blowing past his usual boundaries, “You know. I always thought—” he hiccups “—that you would have. Fuckin’. Bangin’ tits.”

Dream drops his wine glass.

It shatters against the table, but he pays it no mind as he stares at Hob, who’s looking off into the middle distance, lost in a memory.

“Dunno why,” he says. “You’re always so. Covered up. But I know there’s something there. You’re beautiful, you’re…” he trails off.

Dream does not know what to say to this, to the revelation that Hob is thinking of him in such a way. It strikes him more strongly than even hearing the word tits applied to his person, which is its own hard shock indeed.

Perhaps he is more drunk than he’d thought, for the first response that does come to his mind is would you like to see them?

This is undoubtedly a cue to end the evening.

“I think perhaps you should have some water and sleep now, Hob,” he says. “Your body will not thank you tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” Hob says, not really listening to him. “Yeah…”

Dream takes him by the arm and pulls him up from the table, manages to maneuver a stumbling Hob to the stairs at the back of the inn, to his bedroom, where he lays Hob down on the bed, pulling off his shoes. Hob reaches for him, and for a moment Dream is afraid Hob is going to grab at his chest, but he doesn’t, just lightly touches Dream’s cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words all blurred together, and something in Dream’s chest tightens.

“Sleep now, Hob.” He brushes a hand over Hob’s forehead, and Hob falls asleep instantly, relaxing into the pillow.

Dream lays a blanket over him, leaves water and aspirin on the nightstand. Stands, observing Hob, for longer than is proper or necessary. And then takes his leave to the Dreaming, where Hob’s words, drunken ramblings though they were, circle him for hours afterwards.

--

The fact of the matter is. Dream wants Hob. And has for some time. He does not know when exactly it struck him, only that he has increasingly become fixated on Hob’s hands, on the breadth of his shoulders, the warmth of his eyes. He has not known how to broach the topic. He has never had a lover who was a friend before.

Nor had he known whether Hob would be receptive to such a thing.

He supposes he has that answer now.

Hob has also handed him, though he probably did not realize it, an easy way to convey his interest. It will also, Dream thinks with a little smile, be somewhat… amusing to surprise Hob with the reality of his desire. Likely he never thought that would be the outcome of ranting to Dream about his breasts, such as they are.

I will visit him tits out, he resolves. Tomorrow, when he wakes.

--

Dream is no stranger to more revealing attire, though he has not cared to wear it since his captivity. This, he thinks, is worthy of making the change. He garbs himself in normal slacks and boots, his usual long coat open and unbuttoned— but under it is a sheer, long sleeved shirt, ruffled collar, cut out over the chest precisely as Hob had requested, drunk though he was. Truly, Dream thinks, observing the look in the mirror he has manifested in his chambers, the fashion of this decade is interesting indeed.

Thus clothed to the requirements, Dream commands his sand to take him to Hob’s flat, now that he can feel Hob has woken. He stands in Hob’s living room, and he waits.

Hob comes into the living room at the sound of his arrival, rubbing his eyes, still sleepy and hungover. He’s still in pajamas, and clearly has not been awake long. “Listen, Dream, I’m so fucking sorry, I should not have said— oh holy fuck.”

“I thought this would appeal,” Dream says, and watches Hob reel, eyes wide.

“Appeal. Appeal? Appeal to what, my fucking dick? Oh Jesus Mary and God-fucking-dammit, I’m making it worse—”

Dream is feeling very validated in his choice now. He smirks, taking a step closer. “You were very passionate last night. I thought perhaps. You would like to test your theory.”

Hob’s eyes are still huge. He swallows, throat bobbing, gaze bouncing between Dream’s eyes and his lips and his bare chest.

“My theory,” Hob says faintly. “Are you coming onto me? Please tell me you’re coming onto me and not just trying to break me. Because you broke me, I’m broken.”

“Until you spoke last night I… did not know that you thought of me like that,” Dream admits.

“Didn’t know? And here I thought I was the most obvious—” he bites the sentence off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not dreaming, am I? I guess it could still be you…”

“You are not dreaming,” Dream confirms.

Hob steps closer to him, then, as if hypnotized. Strokes a thumb lightly over one of Dream’s bare nipples, and Dream shivers at the touch. Then Hob presses his hands flat to Dream’s chest, cups what little flesh is there in his palms. Dream does not have a particularly substantial chest but Hob seems compelled anyway.

“Are my ‘tits,’” Dream asks, quoting Hob from last night, “‘banging,’ Hob Gadling?”

Hob goes bright red, but doesn’t remove his hands. “Yeah, Dream,” he says, strangled, “you have the prettiest little titties I ever saw.”

This is not something Dream has ever cared about or even considered about himself, but he preens anyway.

“And if you’ve no objections I’d really like to get my mouth on them,” Hob continues. “You free now? Or did you come just to upend my world and run?”

“I am ‘free,’” Dream confirms. This is, in fact, his desired outcome. “Is that the only place you will put your mouth?”

“Fucking hell.” Hob kisses him then, rough and hot, hands going to Dream’s waist to pull him in so their bellies are touching. Dream hums in pleasure. And Hob pushes his coat off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, unheeded. “No, I want to fucking bite you. Kiss you everywhere. And I dunno what you have going on down there, but I’m going for that, too.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “‘What I have going on down there?’”

Hob huffs. “Well I don’t know, you personification of insanity. What do you have going on down there?”

“What would you like me to have going on?”

“No,” Hob says, half a whine. “Don’t say shit like that, I’m not a strong man. Come on.”

He takes Dream by the hand, drags him towards his bedroom. And Dream smiles to himself. A desired outcome, indeed.

[valeriianz]

Here's a thought for you re: Hob's daydream's affecting Dream.

Hob, it seems, is oral fixated today.

Dream's attention is divided between Hob's mundane chatter about his students, the attention he always saves to the Dreaming, and... the firm press against his lips, against his tongue, nearly reaching the back of his throat in it's vulgar audacity.

Hob's words trail at those moments, he sounds distracted and like he doesn't really notice the way his words repeat, his gaze dropping again and again, fist clenching when Dream swallows.

Dream huffs through his nose, very well, he will indulge him, if he must.

Subtly, he flicks his tongue across his lips, glancing just in time to see Hob frozen, words forgotten, staring intensely.

And there it is, the push against his lips, the persistent request to open his lips and take, take, take. wrote it, sent it, didn't look twice, peace

nsfwish under the cut

Dream’s jaw almost drops with the immediate response that garners him, not from surprise, but because he feels as if he needs to. 

Hob is hot and huge in his mouth, in his projection, stretching him open and reaching further and further. Hob helping himself to Dream like he’s allowed this– brazen, indecent. Dream swallows again, his amusement veering off course, transforming into something selfish and carnal, something Dream realizes might not work out in his favor.

But he can’t help but tease, just a little. Hoping to catch Hob off-guard and subdue him.

“Something the matter?”

Dream’s voice catches both of them by surprise. It’s low rumble sounding smothered, spoken behind closed lips, or muffled around an over-eager cock, as it were.

Hob looks Dream in the eyes, studying them, perhaps realizing that he’d fallen quiet and was staring at Dream’s lips for a fraction of a second too long, too obvious. Friends don’t look at each other’s lips, don’t stutter over their words, and certainly don’t fantasize– Christ, Dream’s knees hitting the hardwood floor and staring up at Hob, as if in worship, in supplication. 

The utter audacity.

“You seem. Distracted.” Dream is proud of how his words remain steady, even as his knees begin to sting and his mouth throbs.

“Do I?” Hob laughs, a tinge of hysteria rolling off it. He finally forces himself to relax, shaking his head, clearing the illusion. Dream’s entire body slumps forward slightly, like he’d been released from a bond that tied him straight and upright.

[virgo-dream]

This is the BOOP#02 game! You've been BOOPED. Now you gotta Boop someone else's ask box too 🐾 🐾 🐾

OH!!!! The boops still live!!!!

Boop right back at ya!!!! 🐾

[issylra]

23 :)

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

I'd love to write a true enemies to lovers. Several thousand words of tension-fueled bickering. Or even better, exes to lovers. There's something really delicious about two people with a lot of history picking at each other, because they know exactly how to do it to really make it hurt. Just the angst, but also the lingering chemistry. The pining. Because I've not written enough pining (lies).

(for the writer's ask game)

[nancylou444]

This is the BOOP#02 game! You've been BOOPED. Now you gotta Boop someone else's ask box too 🐾 🐾 🐾

Right back at you. ♥️ 🐾🐾

I miss boops. ☹️

[marvolord]

This is the BOOP#02 game! You've been BOOPED. Now you gotta Boop someone else's ask box too 🐾 🐾 🐾

I'll boop and boop and boop and boop and bo-

[karkii]

[aigoos]

Date Me Art by StrawberryReddy

Ahhh! This gorgeous art is by @strawberryreddy, who drew this based on my fic, "Date Me". This is the first Star Wars / Obikin fic I wrote, all thanks to @magnusbae amazing plot bunny. College AU has always been a love of mine, so it was fun to write this, and even better to see the art done by someone so talented. The warm palette and the lighting of this art make me super happy. Plus, who can say no to Professor Obi-Wan and college student Anakin? I know I can't!

Thank you so much, @strawberryreddy for doing this beautiful art! After a long, hard day at work, this cheered me up greatly!

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae pitched the idea of Dream with curly hair

So here's a silly doodle of his hair curling up when he's happy 😌💕

[cuubism]

@magnusbae a surprise for you. finally, more silly rabbit au

--

Dream always listened intently when Hob spoke about his workday. Dream had mentioned, at least once, actually coming to Hob’s lectures to “experience his expertise in person.” Yet somehow, none of this had translated in Hob’s mind into the actual, heart attack-inducing experience of seeing Dream walk into his lecture hall.

He hadn’t really believed it would happen. Not for lack of trusting Dream’s word, but because his presence seemed so incongruous. This was Hob’s normal life. His normal human life of work and chores and errands and bureaucracy.

Dream, meanwhile, was from Hob’s other life, the one made of secret meetings in taverns with an ethereal stranger, the life that knew that magic, in some way, was real. That life seemed, in some ways, realer, for all that it was brief, hidden, threaded between lifetimes of normality. Being with Dream was to dip back into a deeper well of truth he usually had to lock away; his own truth, their truth.

That was not a life that was supposed to be striding down the stairs of his lecture hall and taking a seat in the front row.

“So, um…” Hob trailed to an uneven stop halfway through his description of the first printing press. Dream just smirked at him from where he’d sat down. He’d taken off his coat and everything, as if he really was settling in to listen to the lecture.

A few students’ heads swiveled in his direction, drawn by Dream’s not-so-subtle entrance and Hob’s uncharacteristic stumble. Dream’s gaze didn't leave Hob's.

“So.” Hob forced himself back into motion. “So, in 1482—”

It was only his years of experience that got Hob through that lecture without breaking, and even then, it was a close thing. Every second, he could feel Dream’s eyes on him. Saw more than one of the students looking at Dream, too. God, what was he doing here?

But Hob did manage it, and ignored the curious glances of the students as they filed out of class, leaving only Dream behind. Dream, who stalked over to him with a predatory little smile, stopping by the podium where Hob was shutting his laptop.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Hob asked idly, trying to pretend Dream’s presence here, in this normal part of his life, wasn’t throwing him completely off balance.

“I merely wanted the see the professor at work,” Dream drawled.

Hob chuckled and leaned in quick to kiss him on the cheek. “Not much of a show, to be honest.”

Dream’s brow pinched as if he hadn’t quite gotten the reaction he expected. “Does it bother you for me to be here?”

“No, no, of course not.” Hob held Dream’s arms tight, made sure he was looking at him. “I always want to have you wherever I am.”

Dream’s expression eased, and he tilted his head, waiting for the other half of Hob’s explanation he knew was forthcoming.

“It’s just… a bit odd to have you in such a normal place,” Hob tried to explain. “This is like… my ordinary life. And you, you’re anything but ordinary. I got used to thinking of our meetings as… kind of separate from all this, I guess. Like, you know. A dream.”

Or perhaps it was Hob’s ordinary life that was the dream, for everything snapped back into multicolored focus whenever he saw Dream himself.

“I have not been around for much of this… normal life,” Dream conceded. “I do wish now that I could have seen more of it.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Hob rubbed up and down his arms. “Though not sure how interesting you’ll find it all, to be honest.”

“Everything about you is interesting to me,” Dream said. He seemed completely sincere about it, too.

“You’re sweet.” Hob kissed him on the cheek. It was flattering—if occasionally unbelievable—to be interesting to The King of Dreams. Though Hob supposed Dream had had vanishingly little normality in his long life, to the point where what should have been mundane had become novel.

“I only hope I am not a disturbance,” Dream said. “You have always managed your life independently. I do not wish to derail it.”

Hob sighed. “My love, even if you were a disturbance, which you are not, I wouldn’t care? I love this job, don’t get me wrong, but you’re so much more important than that.”

Dream’s brow furrowed. “You have always held life most dear.”

“Well, life, sure, but life has infinite variations, doesn’t it? This version falls apart, I’ll make a new one. So long as you’re there.”

Dream still seemed confused, and Hob couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have Dream questioning his importance in Hob’s life.

“Look, you like pictures, right? I’ll draw it for you.”

Hob picked up a blue marker and drew a series of circles on the board, all in a line, touching end to end. “See those? That’s my life. Well, each of my lives, every time I have to start a new one. See how they’re all separate and only touch once one’s had to stop? Well.” He picked up another marker, this one black, and drew a line through the middle of the series, from one end to the other, bisecting each circle. “That’s you. Now do you get the difference?”

“I would have said that your ‘lives’ were more like concentric circles, compounding on each other, not in series,” Dream said, but it sounded weak, an automatic retort.

“The timeline accuracy doesn’t matter. This—” Hob touched the black line. “This matters.”

Dream studied the line. “That is a heavy meaning to draw from me,” he finally said.

Hob stepped back into his space, laid his hands lightly along his hips. “You’re the king of dreams, don’t people make meaning of you all the time?”

“Through me,” Dream said. “But you. See it— in me.”

How could I not? Hob thought. When you’re… it. You’re so much of it. “That’s what it’s like when you love someone.”

“Love,” repeated Dream, with the same awe he seemed to feel every time Hob said it.

“So yeah,” Hob said, “you can join my normal human life if you want to. Only don’t complain to me when it can’t compare to the crazy spectacles of your dreams.”

“You could not be uninteresting to me,” repeated Dream.

Hob leaned in to kiss his cheek again. “Sweet thing,” he said, and felt Dream’s tiny smile against his lips.

Dream clutched onto his hand as Hob packed up the rest of his things, and Hob let him, even though it made the process twice as long. “So did the lecture compel you, then?”

“I know these historical facts, but I enjoy your retelling of them,” Dream said. “However, the students seemed distracted.”

“Ha! That’s your fault, love.” He started leading Dream towards the door. “You created a spectacle. They’ll be mad curious now.”

“I was attempting to be unobtrusive,” Dream said with a frown.

"Oh, unobtrusive, is it? That's what that devious little look meant, hm?"

"...To draw your attention," Dream conceded. "Not the students'. I was affecting an appearance of average humanity.”

Hob snorted. “My love, I don’t think you could be convincingly human if you committed the rest of your eternal existence to the study of it.”

He led Dream out into the hall, and closed and locked the lecture hall door behind them. Dream’s nose scrunched adorably. “Oh? What am I doing wrong, then?”

“For one, you’re too pretty.” Hob tugged him close and kissed the tip of Dream’s nose. “Pretty like a fairy tale creature that’s meant to lure you into the woods. Don’t you dare change it, by the way!” he added, and Dream smirked.

“Is that all?”

“Nope. The other thing is, it is impossible to look at you…” he stepped in close to hold Dream by his hips— “and forget that you are a king.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “You seem to forget frequently.”

“Willfully ignoring is not the same as forgetting,” Hob told him, grinning. “Besides, I’m not one of your subjects. It’s my job to ignore it and get you to let your hair down.” He scrubbed a hand through Dream’s already-messy hair, which Dream made no move to stop. “But I picked out the regality on you all the way back when we first met, it’s all in your jaw, and the tilt of your brow, and your spine—” he touched each spot as he spoke— “and especially in those eyes. Humans might play at being kings, but you are a king. Divine right and all. You’re a king from another world, a story, or—” he smiled— “a dream.”

“You have made a proper study of me.” They were standing very close now, hovering in the doorway to the lecture hall.

“Only for seven hundred years,” Hob told him. “Still think there’s lots to learn in Dream Interpreting, though.”

Dream touched his face to Hob’s cheek, leaning in close. “Interpret, then.”

Hob turned and kissed him, hands falling to Dream’s hips as Dream’s fingers curled around his jacket. and for a long moment, he forgot they were meant to be going home, as the wet heat of Dream’s mouth kept him firmly in place.

“Um. Professor Gadling?” squeaked a nervous voice from beside them, and they  broke apart, still holding onto each other.

One of Hob’s younger students was standing there, blushing furiously, binder held tight to their chest as if it could somehow block the embarrassment of witnessing their professor snogging on campus.

Hob could just see Dream smirking out of the corner of his eye, and poked him in the side. “Yes, Lily?”

“Um.” The student’s blush only deepened. “Do. Are you still supposed to have office hours after class?”

Fuck.

Hob looked at Dream. The bastard looked triumphant now. He sighed and turned back to his student. “No, I don’t think so. But email me and I’ll find time for you, okay?”

“Thanks,” they whispered, and practically fled, scurrying back down the hall.

Hob turned to glare at Dream. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Me?” said Dream, duly offended. “Govern your own behavior, Professor. I am an unobtrusive bystander. I am not even here.”

“Oh, unobtrusive my arse, you—”

But Dream was gone, only a swirl of sand and a tiny smirk left in his wake.

“Bastard,” Hob swore to the empty hallway. Then went to go find him, inevitably, at home.

[magnusbae]

@brieflyinfatuated

@cuubism @mayhemspreadingguy @magnusbae is there a silly rabbit pastry chef au?

@cuubism

#i like how silly rabbit has aus of aus now XD#closest thing in that verse would be morpheus deciding 'yeah i can create stuff surely a twelve layer cake is within my abilities 🙄 how#hard can it be'#turns out you can't force baking soda to do your bidding morpheus#morpheus in beginners home ec class is the funniest thing i can think of#meanwhile hob is an expert at baking bread. doesn't even have to try at it at this point in life#silly rabbit au#adjacent XD

HAVE I BEEN SUMMONED— Silly Rabbit AU //is// AUs plural!!!

Every story Silly Rabbit tells is a story of it's own. If he would decide to be a pastry chef, he WILL be one. Baking Soda be damned. If he has to tear a hole in the fabric of reality and pull out the most divine cake out of the most renounced chef's dream—he will.

And yet, where's the challenge in that? He shall master the kitchen and be Hob's house wifey au. He watched 1 (one) video of husband meal preps and now he wishes to live out that high.

In his mind, he can see the students asking Hob where he got such amazing lunch boxes, and Hob slightly red cheeked would glance at him AND THEY'LL KNOW.

That would make for such a satisfying story / rumor. That he, the local scandal goth / student / lover / ???? is also Hob's malewife.

Also yes for MORE aus for this au???

[quietschfidel]

Inspired by @cuubism and @magnusbae's memes about their AU in which Hob and Death are together first in a fully-functional open/no-strings-attached relationship, but then Dream comes along and neither Hob nor Dream can be normal about it

(click on the picture to see the full drawing)

[issylra]

SEGA WAS THE SHIT. Did you have the turtles game?

Was that the side-scrolling fighting game one? Because I distinctly remember getting to play as a ninja turtle and beating up random goons (probably because I was little and only knew how to mash buttons). Also, Street Fighter II! Let me go back in time to when the hardest decision of my day was which Street Fighter character I was going to beat up my little brother with 😂

[notallsandmen]

Tagged by @academicblorbo @chaosheadspace @reallyintoscience @teejaystumbles @valeriianz to make my own little guy

(yes, I am a 32-year-old academic who still dresses like a schoolgirl porno / hungover Sailor Moon character)

Tagging @beholdme @ml-nolan @cuubism @magnusbae @duckland @orionsangel86 @nyxneon

[marvolord]

added a sw tag because of me, you have? ┐(˵¯͒ ∀¯͒˵) sorry, i am not.

Because of you it is indeed

After watching ahsoka my love for Hayden reactivated haha and you post so much about sw that I just could not help myself, and also Obikin?? Yes?? Never heard about it before tbh but daaammnnnnn