#notallmaenads

[notallsandmen]

I only got this tumblr to be able to post gratuitous art nouveau vibes that I find while reading the Sandman comics for the first time

[rexwrendraws]

Sandcastles: Year One, A Sandman Fan-Fic Anthology ⏳

To celebrate The Sandman's one year anniversary this past weekend (how has it been a year already!?), I started a self-indulgent project and decided I wanted to take a crack at typesetting for the very first time.

So, I'm very proud to present: Sandcastles, an 180-page digital anthology that celebrates some of my favorite Sandman fics from the past year! Sandcastle collects shorter fics ranging from gen to mature, and is print-ready and available to be downloaded for free. Through this anthology, I hope others can get the same joy from these fics the same way I did over the past year (think of it as a glorified fic rec list)! (And, if anyone's interested, the print-ready files are available for download as well, if anyone wanted to print their own copy of Sandcastles!)

✨ Download Sandcastles here!

Thank you to all the authors for giving me permission to include their work in this anthology! This is my love letter to all of your work! Please check them out and leave a kind word or two!

The fics included in Sandcastles, in order of the Table of Contents, are the following:

Companions - Picture_Yourself (@anthrossandman)

Fridays - hardly_an_escape (@hardly-an-escape)

Warning Sign - issylra (@issylra)

Snacktime - fishydwarrows (@fishfingersandscarves)

Stray - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

Aulon Raid - moorishflower (@moorishflower)

Unbidden Miracles - mostlybuddingthoughts (@mostlybuddingthoughts)

Available - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

Points of View - cuubism (@cuubism)

Fern-Fevered - notallsandmen (notallmaenads) (@notallsandmen)

The Last - secondjulia (@secondjulia)

Scratch a Little Itch - sanyumi (@valeriianz)

Simple Dreams of Comfort - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

The Apocalypse is Nigh! - cuubism (@cuubism)

To Those Who Dare Wonder - Astrophel_Hireath (@mentallyinvernation)

The Perils of Inebriation - Lilibet (@the-slow-arrow)

Touch - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

Passing the Time - Anonymous

I'm Stuck on You (I'm Mighty Glad You Stayed) - hardly_an_escape (@hardly-an-escape)

Hob Gadling vs. The British Museum (Unknown Artist, c. 2022, Oil on Canvas) - TheAllKnowingOwl (@theallknowingowl)

This also counts as my submission for Day 1 of @mr-sadman 's Sandmanniversary 2023 prompts (Collection) :)

_ _ _ _ _ (Post & files updated — 29.08.2023)

[fics-recommendations]

Putting Out Fire With Gasoline

“You are late. I thought it was impolite to keep friends waiting?” “We’re not friends. We’re not… anything. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

Dream does not get fishbowled and does turn up for the 1989 meeting, only to find that Hob does not appear. Hob has not been not captured or detained; he just stands him up. Or — what if Hob was a little less of a forgiving, patient cinnamon roll, and a little bit more of an salty bitch and went: ”You abandon me in the 1889, I will ghost you in 1989.”

Read it here by notallmaenads

[maenadmemes]

Pentheus... ripped limb from limb!

#notallmaenads

I'm totally kidding. We're all this way.

[notallsandmen]

1889. A few hours after their fight, Dream of the Endless uses his orb to call Hob Gadling’s telephone to apologise. Neither of them handle their respective technology in a responsible manner.

Commissioned for @hurrrhurrrhurrr @dreamlingforukraine

[notallsandmen]

Look, I adore the dreamling trope of Hob moaning ”God” and Dream huffing ”I am no mere god”.

But you can’t tell me that an Endless — being at the top of the divinity hierarchy — wouldn’t have a little bit of a mythological creature humiliation kink.

***

Dream pouted.

“You said you wanted it to be a surprise.”

Hob sighed, and cupped Dream’s chin in a fond caress.

“Don’t get me wrong, darkling, it was amazing — I’m just saying that a mara-incubus-ambush kind of warrants a heads-up, or a save-the-date card at least.”

Once Dream had been sufficiently placated, Hob ran his hand over his face, still a little bit shell-shocked by the way the memory of the dream was now beginning to crystallise in full detail.

“God, you’re a menace.”

Dream wrinkled his nose at Hob’s monotheistic faux-pas, before huffing: ”When your lover has spent days crafting an intricate fantasy for you, you could at least do me the courtesy of not denigrating my station.”

”You’re lucky I’m allowing you to even be a god, when you act this bratty. But you know what — keep talking like that, and I’ll keep kicking you one rung down the pantheon ladder until you behave. You’ll be a duck pond nymph by the time I’m done with you.”

It was meant as a joke, but Dream’s horrified but clearly intrigued sepia blush opened up a whole new range of questions for Hob.

The first being, of course, how was this his life?

[notallsandmen]

for the WIP game: you know I'm obsessed with Hob titty fucking, I think everyone else should be too

It was a sveltering London summer day. Hob nearly passes out on the bus home, and he has to stand in the shower for half an hour to cool down.

It didn’t use to be this fucking hot. So much had changed in just a few centuries, and not for the better.

But something as petty as cataclysmic global warming was apparently not enough to stop Dream from popping by for a cheeky afternoon shag: only giving Hob a salutary little bow and a wry half-smile before practically tackling him into bed. Dream’s clothes had melted away with Hob’s remaining resolve; now, they were naked and panting into each other’s mouths. Dream’s damn smirk was somewhat undermined by the rosy-dawning blush spreading from his cheeks all the way down to his navel. Hob had tried to be pragmatic and suggest that they could take this to the Dreaming instead, but apparently Dream was barred due to similar overheating issues, so they were stuck here now. Quite literally — it feels heretical, the way Hob’s sweaty skin cloys for Dream’s sultrily temperate skin.

Hob presses his entire face into Dream’s cool chest and groans so loudly, he can feel it rattle through Dream’s ribcage.

“Are you well, little darling?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hob can see the onyx-lacquered nail tracing orbits into the Hob’s furred thigh.

“I know I have had a penchant for hyperbole in the past. But I’m actually dying. The heat, Dream. The fucking heat.”

Dream nods slowly, as if Hob was just randomly listing the physical properties of their environment, like a rambling toddler losing the thread of the story they’re telling.

It would be condescending if it wasn’t so maddeningly arousing. Hob might have a problem.

“Would you prefer not to have sex, so as to not risk your body over-heating?”

“Would I…?”, Hob chuckles exasperatedly.

“No I would obviously not prefer that, because I’ve evidently lost every remaining survival instinct from disuse.”

He pauses to empty the glass of water on his bedside table.

“Oi, Pillow Prince of Stories — you could be on top, for once, seeing as you’re not as affected by the heat as I am.”

The way Dream solemnly nods, resigning himself to his tragic fate, to again be saddled with the crushing duty of “having to do any work in bed except for coming”, was frankly so adorably melodramatic that the end of Hob’s sentence trailed out into a sputter.

“Fine, fine, if you’re going to pout about it, I yield.”

Still straddling Dream, Hob closes his eyes and tries to estimate what he could realistically be able to perform without ruining the afterglow with fainting salts.

Only now does Hob register the way he was unconsciously dragging his cock over Dream’s blessedly cool chest.

Well, that’s a thought.

Hob can’t deny that he descends into a heart-eyed mess every time he witnesses Dream laying eyes on his own chest hair; making a content little hum as his nimble fingers card through the coarse pelt like a homecoming.

But the idea of doing this, to rut against Dream’s silky-smooth chest, to come all over —

”Hob? Are you having a heat-stroke? Should I consult a physician?”

Dream’s brows furrow in concern, and Hob feels a bit high-maintenance with his autonomic nervous system baggage and everything.

”Like this?”

It was meant to be suggestive, but Hob feels himself sheepishly flush when his voice comes out as a dry croak.

It was hardly the most energy-efficient position, given the heat.

But as a bead of sweat falls from Hob’s temple down onto Dream’s throat, trickling down his breastbone, Hob realizes that he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head, now.

Right — it’s settled. Hob needs to fuck Dream’s tits.

Dream looks down at himself, and then back up at Hob in confusion, pressing two fingers against Hob’s wrist where they grasp his hips, not very discreetly checking his pulse. Dream’s concerns were evidently soothed enough to plummet him back into his ordinary state of perplexed feline imperiousness, scoffing:

”Why would you want that?”

“Why?”, Hob laughs, a little maniacally. As if it would be a hardship. As if he’s not already smearing a drop of pre into the tuft of hair on Dream’s chest.

”Let me show you why.”

Continue to read:

[notallsandmen]

My @dreamlingforukraine fic for @ferelden-loser is finally done!

The prompt idea originally came from @softest-punk (post): ”Delirium and Hob meet in an opium den post-breakup w/Dream and Delirium decides to keep Hob warm for her favourite brother while he's sulking.”

But the historian side of me also wanted to go on a massive detour to debunk some of the mythos surrounding Victorian opium smoking, and things escalated from there.

Also, I thought it was about time that Delirium got to show her eldritch flower form!

[notallsandmen]

Dreamling for Ukraine

Creator- @notallsandmen (Notallmaenads on ao3)

UPDATE: I will keep commissions for the fandom charity drive @dreamlingforukraine open until further notice, with intent to keep it up until the war is over. Slava Ukraini 🇺🇦

That means I'II be creating fanworks in exchange for donations for one of these charities which are providing relief for the victims of the war in Ukraine.

What I offer: Fic in any guise.

Accepting prompts: Yes! I am open to most prompts, particularly your weirdest smut prompts, goofiest joke prompts, or heart-achingly fluffy. In addition to Dreamling, I’d love to try my hand at writing ConstantDeath, Lucienne/Joanna, and Death/Lucienne, and I’d be happy to write any platonic relationships between characters, as well.

My speciality falls under Victorian/Edwardian smut, but any historical fic prompt is also very welcome. Will make sfw, nsfw, pwp, kinks (particularly exhibitionist & BDSM-adjacent), dub-con etc

Won't make: MCD, Daniel-Dream, unrequited love, love triangles, infidelity etc. I can share my more detailed squicks in DMs, and we can brainstorm a compromise if need be.

Suggested Donation Amount: 1€/$/£ or the equivalent in other currency per ~100 words. This means you can donate 10€/$/£ for 1,000 words or 20€/$/£ for 2,000 words and so on.

I accept offers for a minimum of 100 words and a maximum of 5000 words.

Slots: 1

Expected turnaround time: around a month, may be more or less depending on the requested word count. (And it may end up taking a lot longer, resulting in a significantly higher word count free of charge, because my writing pace is chaotic at best)

How to commission me:

* Send a message here on Tumblr, telling me what you'd like me to make for you, and we can brainstorm ideas and discuss further.

* Wait until I reply. Do not donate until I confirm your commission! All money donated to charity is non-refundable.

* Once I confirm your commission, go ahead and donate. PLEASE remember to screencap your receipt and black out your personal details. You need to send me this to prove you've donated.

* Once l've seen your receipt, I'II start working on your project.

* I reserve the right to refuse commissions if l'm not comfortable with them or feel like l'm unable to accept them for lack of time, skill or any other reason.

[notallsandmen]

I can’t let go of the mental image of Hob, being rhythmically jostled against the headboard with every thrust, going ”is this, like, a platonic dryhumping? Frotting between friends? Is that something that people do, nowadays? On the tiktok?”

Meanwhile Dream is going out of his mind and is going to break the bed if Hob dares to call him a friend one more time

[notallsandmen]

Look, the bratty bow has haunted me since September, and frankly, someone had to do something about it.

[notallsandmen]

The mara incubus fic now has a very fluffy epilogue where Hob muses about beating up Neo-Nazis —

a sentence I never would have expected to write, but here we are

[fics-recommendations]

Nocturnal Emissions

Dream had slept. He knew this, because he was roused from sleep by the roaring sounds of Hob’s wet dream. Or — Dream sleeps over, overheards a loud wet dream, and lets himself be selfish for once. 

Read it here by notallmaenads