un-unavoidableanxiousball

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

This one I wrote when I was 15 and posted on Wattpad as well. I also added some things while editing. I wonder what it says about my mental state that I could so easily get into that mindset... (T-T)

Masterlist

Letting Go

Rating: Mature

Characters: unnamed female character, mental voice,

Tags: venting, nature, heavy angst, depressive and suicidal thoughts as a mental voice, (heavily implied) character death,

! Warnings ! : suicide, s3lf-harm, depression, suicidal thoughts, description of blood, suicide attempt, self-doubt, low self-esteem, death, vomit, self-destructive behaviour

Word count: 1979

Read at your own discretion.

⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎☠︎︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎⚠︎

Have you ever felt hopeless?

That kind of hopelessness which paralyzes you. Not your body — your mind. Or perhaps it's not even your mind, but your emotions. Brain producing or receiving the wrong chemicals — it's guesswork, never paid attention in biology class — to some it might be the soul that faulty.

Paralyzes you in such a way that no matter how many times or for how long your thoughts accuse you of wasting time, to move, be productive, improve! No matter the loudness and frequency of their unheard screams to others — you're stuck. Can't bring yourself to change, because why should you try to when there's billions of people on earth more worthy of the chance called life, everyone dies in the end. What do you put into the world, if human lifespan is so short yet too long as well and there were countless human before you and will be after you.

You're so paralyzed that if in moments of great emotions, you can't bring yourself to care. Can't find guilt after an argument, no anger nor embarrassment after being insulted, somehow no tears are visible when a close member dies and it's time to pay respects. Pleasure is unfound, because you don't know what should bring it. It's full resignation or numbness.

Ever felt like anything you would do just isn't enough for people around you? That no matter how hard you try, how much efford you put in — nobody seems to appreciate it? No visible pride in the people around you. Moreover some see those accomplishments as bare minimum; which hurts so deeply in your heart it can't get through the darkness and unstable walls.

Perhaps the times you accomplished something — something as simple like organising your desk or cleaning your room, eating a meal or just getting out of the wretched bed; damn it you were proud of yourself! You went to share your pride with someone, only to get lectured for not doing anything useful nor helpful for them? For slouching around, being an obstacle, a burden.

You feel more depressed in result. Close yourself off, escape the pesky problems, and whenever you've accomplished something again — you start to doubt if telling somebody else about it will ever bring positive outcome or worse you doubt yourself.

Day by day you re-think each and every action you're about to make to prevent yourself from getting more hurt than you already are.

One after another after another after ano—— and you don't care. You didn't even notice when you stopped caring. Seems like personalised masks became permanent. You have built walls so high to not be hurt as much and as strong as you've been before.

You can't find yourself enjoying the things you've liked or were told you did before. As if the little passion you had — had been drained from you, locked and wasted. Spoiled.

Yet somehow you managed to fake it all and lie to your friends, with a fake smile, a fake enthusiastic voice, fake opinions on whatever topic, which you probably weren't intresting in in any way or just didn't want to be excluded from the little group of friends you managed to have.

But even that loss it's 'spark'. Now, you distance yourself from them too, no matter how it pains you in the inside, no matter the childish voice inside you that tell you "Mama, mama help me, anyone,".

Because you want nothing more than to cry on their shoulder tell them anything and everything that bothers you and weights down on your very soul, to be hugged and feel loved; but you don't do it, won't do it in fear of being judged, laughed at or pushing them away with the state you're in.

No, you can't have that, can you?

Too many times were you ignored to not expect anything else to be the truth.

A certain girl definitely feels that way. She's come so far as to ignore all of her friends. But hey, it's not like they noticed or anything, she always was kind of distant. Introverts, right?

At the moment the girl was standing on a bridge. She's looking at the small river flowing by below her.

She comes to this place almost everyday whenever she feels like getting away from everything. She grew to love it here, the trees around gave great amount of shadow to hide from sun's rays on warmer days, the gentle wind calmed her down whenever she was stressed and the beautiful sound of the river flowing was calming as well.

She spent almost all day in here today.

Today was difficult for her, she couldn't bear it even though nothing bad happened to her. Nothing stands out. She did what she felt like - came to her safe zone to be alone. Of course she couldn't get rid of that voice which somehow made it's way in to her head and controls her heart.

While making her way to a tree to sit down under, she felt tears in her eyes as she heard the voice's mocking words.

"You're weak. You can't even embrace a little truth without taking it out on yourself." it whines, "No wonder you've no friends! Hahahaha—," the laughter continued, "You end up shoving them away to the basement, you starve them and then, and then, ha hahaha, you act surprised when your connections are long dead and starved!"

The girl was full on sobbing.

"Damn, what was it about a lover? Your dreams only. You're ugly. I mean look at yourself! How could you be pretty with those big disgusting cuts?"

"Plus you're lazy, you can't do anything right." it cackled, "I mean... they're such easy tasks, so... What makes you wonder that your Charming One wouldn't look down on you? You're no royalty.."

"Why are you so naive as to have unreachable and unrealistic dreams? I know!" a dramatic pause, "You're stupid."

She was wailing with her legs pressed against her chest. She couldn't stop herself from letting the tears out from her eyes as the voice continued.

"Nobody loves you, because you're useless. Can't you see? You're not good enough, you'll never be. They don't care about you. Why would they? You couldn't care less for them. You're an emotional mess. Not a grain of realness inside you. I pity them. Having to look at you is just painful. No wonder they avoid you."

The girl tried to calm herself but was unable to. Her body was shaking from her ugly sobs. Crying a river of tears, she tried to take deep breaths to maybe stabilise her shallow hiccuping breathing.

"You're such a crybaby. Can't you handle a simple truth?" It scoffed in her mind. "Wait I forgot, we already covered that. Your idiocy is contagious. Bleh."

After some time she succeed to calm down, mainly by beating her thighs repeatedly. Sobs were still escaping her chest every once in a while. She felt the itching on her arms, making it hard not to scratch or reach for her pocket knife in her bag.

"What? You're resisting this urge? Since when? You're not strong to keep it up. You always relive yourself this way, don't you know? Did you forget? Memory too short?" it cruelly went on, "You like the feeling of the blade on your skin and the pain it brings along. And the blood. Mmm. That delicious blood, running, dripping down your arms. There's always blood whenever you cut, don't you hate it? It's entertaining for me to see your disgust, the blood makes you want to throw up or pass out. Are we keeping count?" it intoned, "I'd be lying if I said I was surprised, but then again you're just some psycho who clearly doesn't know how to properly act like one!"

She could hear the sinister tone the voice has. Although it pains her greatly, it was right. She hated the sight of blood and yet she continues to harm herself. It really relived her. She knows it's not healthy nor anything positive. Yet she can't seem to stop.

She slowly rolled up the black sleeve of her hoodie. She put the knife to her arm.

Pressed.

She could feel the smirk, smug satisfaction in to the voice, and also her own satisfaction at the feeling of the blade cutting her skin. She created more cuts in places which weren't covered yet.

Trying to ignore the crimson red liquid flowing down her arm — to focus on anything else but fresh, leaking wounds. Taking deep breaths. No, no no nononono the smell — horrid, terrible — metalic stale.

In and out..

In—

She could practically feel the bole in her mouth. Focus elsewhere, c'mon...

Fresh air filled her lungs with each breath. Wind, chirping birds and slowly flowing river created a pleasant melody.

The water as a beautifully sounding base, the wind played the various instruments, grass, trees, bushes. Birds sang with different voices and tones, each special in their own way. If someone was to listen to the sounds, they most likely wouldn't hear those the same way or just ignore them seeing nothing special unlike her. She apriciates anything that's pretty, elegant, natural moreover can't cause her harm.

"Speaking of which, are you enjoying yourself, bitch? I'm confident you spacing out made a lot of good to those ugly wounds!"

It cackled when it felt her flinching at the mention of the name. Girl's eyes cousiously wandered to her left arm. Immediately she regreted doing so. Her face expressed disgust as she tried not to gag nor vomit at the sight.

Her arm was covered in so many scars now, not a single one of the older ones was visible. The cuts were different lengths, deepths, some were wider, others smaller, some placed horizontally, some vertically. To add more to this mess — the blood was everywhere now, the dirt, her hoodie, on her jeans.

Blood was all coming from the horrible cuts she made which made her even more nauseous.

Averting her eyes, she tried to focus on something else, yet she couldn't. The image haunted her mind, she couldn't block it off.

The girl started to gag, sweet acidic taste filled her mouth.

Abruptly she stood up, making it worse, trying to rush to the river. Her vision got more foggy and unclear as she moved forward. She stumbled on her feet, falling to her hands and knees. Not being really far away from the water she managed to reach it and as soon as she did that she threw up everything her stomach previously contained.

"You do know you can't do anything about your arm right? I mean... you could always add more. You're going to die anyway so what's the point? Bonus Points! — if you'll die here nobody will find you. You're all alone. Nobody cares about your well-being. Not that they care about your being at all..."

More tears continued to stream down her face as she listened to the voice. The pain coming from her arm is getting more unbearable by each passing second.

Her vision starts to fade as she tries to control her sobs, ignore the pain and block out the images of the blood and memories of her family and friends. She could hear the cruel laughter and continuous mocking of the voice but even it starts to quieten.

Being overwhelmed by hurtful sensations, she couldn't seem to feel her body. Her tears were silently from her brown eyes, praying for somebody to find her, to take care of her, to tell her everything will be okay.

But her prayers weren't answered, maybe they didn't reach anyone in the first place. As she was letting go, the darkness took care of her.

Nobody came. Proving to her about her meaninglessness.

"I'm sorry." A mere whisper left her lips.

...

...

#cross posted on wattpad #original work #original character #tw s3lf harm #tw sui attempt #tw depressing thoughts #reupload #heavy topics #heavy angst #rating: mature

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Another work I edited from Wattpad (written at 14) — this one had way less alterations. Enjoy! = ]

᯾᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾☀️☀️᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾᯾

Masterlist

At Peace

Rating: General

Characters: unnamed female character,

Tags: nature, self-expression through work, character study, escapism

Warnings: none

Word count: 343

᯾᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾☀️☀️᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾᯾☀️᯾᯾᯾᯾

The girl ran, ran, ran and ran until she reached her destination. The place that was just on the seaside, outside the city. It wasn't a secret place in any case but she never saw anyone come there. And nobody knows she goes there.

She always does whenever she needs space or just to get away from her life, her problems, her responsibilities. The girl loves it here. Not only is it her chance to get away from everything and everyone but she can also gaze at the beautiful views in front of her. No matter the time of day, there's always a detail or more of difference.

After the girl steadied her breathing, she sat down on the huge rock and took in the view in front of her.

The sun started to set a little while ago so the sun was already half way hidden behind the horizon. The sky looked astonishing. Various shades of purples, pinks, oranges — the way the sun painted it with it's streaks was just breathtaking. Looking at the hiding star hurts her eyes, so she tears them away when it happens. Even though she was here countless of times she never fails to lose her breath at such a sight.

She felt as if every single problem, all of the troubles and doubts she had had vanished, just like that sun on the horizon.

It was...

mesmerising.

The girl closed her eyes as the last sun streaks fade away. She took a breath in and slowly breathed out. Feeling the small breeze hit her body — she smiled.

She's finally feeling at peace. This never fails.

But...

The brunette almost forgot the reason why she got here. She wanted to push it aside, to the back of her mind. She is aware she can't run from problems forever but it doesn't hurt to take a break every once in a while. Right? She'll be fine, at least that's her hope.

The girl stayed there for a few hours, gazing at the stars and eventually... falling asleep...

Again.

#original character #original work #cross posted on wattpad #reupload #rating: g #nature #self expression #escapism

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Hey! Stop for a second!

Please notice that I am a person that too quickly loses passion or rather focus and motivation.

Pssst... ☞︎︎︎ O v e r H e r e ☜︎︎︎

So if there are works/series that I started and are yet to be finished — brace yourself because there is a huge possibility for it to stay that way.

To those that are irked by that I advice steering away from my page or reading only those that are 100% done.

Practically in every work I tag "possible out of character", because I found I have trouble correctly analysing or perceiving characters and their behaviors. Considering I'm not a native english speaker some things tend to fly over my head and my vocabulary might be lacking. Most of my work is based/influenced on mixed information from other fanfics. Plus I seldomly rewatch anything, so with one watch through, not a lot stays in that noggin of mine.

If that too frustrates you, my page is not for you.

To those that none of this puts them off in any way, enjoy reading! =]

☕︎ Tip me with coffee ? ☕︎

I'm in the following fandoms (won't necessarily write for them):

Lucifer TV, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, Shadowhunters TV, The Sandman, Good Omens, Hazbin Hotel, Harry Potter,

Criminal Minds, Dexter, You TV, Sherlock TV, Hannibal, The Mentalist, Castle, House M.D.,

Mirai Nikki, Happy Sugar Life, Plastic Memories,

Obey Me!, Doki Doki Literature Club, Yandere Simulator (ambiguous at best), Crush Crush,

☞︎︎︎ Go Back to Masterlist² ☜︎︎︎

#get to know me #my fandoms

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

It's a little polished story I posted on Wattpad when I was 16. Because I lost interest in Wattpad, I decided to put them here. I'm gonna see if it'll get more traffic here.

When I was editing I was listening to "Circles" by Kira and it influenced a little the story. So I hope it isn't displaced. And you'll enjoy it.

Circles

KIRA

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⇆ㅤ ||◁ㅤ❚❚ㅤ▷||ㅤ ↻

❁❁❁❁❁❁🦋❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁🦋❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁🦋❁❁❁❁❁❁

Masterlist

Quiet Nature

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: unnamed character, unnamed nonbinary character

Tags: nature, imagination, dream, daydreams, self reflection

Warnings: slight violence at the end(animal cruelty)

Word count: 1434

❁❁❁❁❁❁🦋❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁🦋❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁🦋❁❁❁❁❁❁

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♪ So far away from reality

"What a lovely place to be." ♪

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Sun is starting to hide behind the horizon, painting the sky with beautiful pastel hues.

The last remaining rays flee between the swinging leaves of high-reaching trees. Each and every one of them — lead by a patient wind — softly sways creating that calming rustling sound.

There's a river slithering in-between sleeping rocks and thirsty roots and soil. From such a distance the reflected light makes an imitation of shimmering scales. Its water flows quickly as if in a race, impatient and eager to see new picturesque views.

From time to time birds fly from different directions. The occasional owls are the only one I recognize. I imagine they are singing to or talking with each other.

I wonder.

I imagine...

Like with the water which is creating that pleasant low frequency static. I can't tune in. The whistles of the wind — they feel off-pitch, off-putting.

I can't quite remember what they were like.

I can't place neither the feeling of the ground beneath my feet nor sun's heat nor air sliding against my skin.

I don't remember and can't recreate them without flaws.

But it's okay — I don't need them. I might miss them. But I doubt it. If I never payed close attention to those expieriences, how should I miss them? Tell me how, if I never enjoy them for what they are? Why would I change my mind now? Why, when all I feel within is shallow and weak?

However I can still sense when somebody is near me. Can feel and pick up flawlessly the moment somebody gazes at me. Just like today, at this moment.

Staring at the hypnotizing movement of the river. It's mesmerising to look at from above — I wish I could stay forever breathless at this sight.

I feel them sitting down within touching distance. I don't turn. I see them in the corner of my eye. To accompany me of their own volition seems unbelievable. Although they know me well. At times, better than I know myself. Right now I'm glad they don't push. We sit like this quietly for some time.

"Do you ever think of them?" they speak up.

"Sometimes."

"Hmm." they hum, nonchalant yet not condescending.

I lied. I always think about them. Fleeting as they may be. Never about the same characters, things or people. Changing everyday and multiplying from indecision.

"And now?" They turn to look at me. Study me. Detect my lies.

"Yes." Truth.

"Do you miss them?" At this I turn as well to look them in the eye.

Obsessions? Concepts? Stories? Chances? Truths? Or perhaps authenticity and confidence and responsibility?

I sigh, "Constantly."

"How are you coping then?"

Concern tends to rub me the wrong way, creates a fire within me that makes me wish to crawl out of myself. Claw through my soul, my heart and ribcage — screaming with agony. Their concern didn't hurt as much at the beginning, now it doesn't hurt at all. Other things tend to ache.

"Slowly, but I do." I answer. If it was truthfully or not, I cannot distinguish. But just because I said I cope, doesn't mean I don't hurt. In my opinion I got so used to this hurt that I've grown numb. It really seems that way to me.

"Will you ever come back to us?" They must've wanted to ask this for a while. A loaded question indeed. I look away.

I'm reluctant to do so. Numbness spreads in me, consumes me from inside. I don't have any energy in any case.

"Maybe someday." I don't even belive that. It might as well take years and bear no fruits.

"You sound unsure." They say with a bluntness — how refreshing it is to be the recipient of such frank attention. And they're observant as always. That's why I like you.

But I stay silent. I'm not embarrassed or ashamed for being called out. It is quite obvious. Would be to anyone that bothered to look.

"I'd welcome you if you ever decide to."

"You would?" I blurt out, shock and disbelief painting my voice. My head snaps toward them. They still manage to surprise me.

"Of course. Without hesitation." They take hold of my hand.

I focus on our intertwined fingers. Their skin is pleasant, not cold, not sweaty, not big. A hint of warmth to heat my frozen ones.

Our hands fit perfectly together. "I appreciate it." I truly do.

"We miss you." Do you?

I hum in acknowledgement. For a second I might have felt warmth spreading within. It's—

...nice..?

Nice to be wanted.

But I left for a reason. It feels as if so long has passed, they might truly not remember why I left. It was a small thing that set me off. It was a culmination of small things really. Left behind like crumbs for me to find in time. It feels so petty now.

Embarrassing.

"Will you stay here?"

Did they see my reluctance? Understood my hesitation?

"Yes, I try to prolong my time here. It's better." It is — less pain, less responsibility. I can do as I please. I'm aware nothing lasts forever. Although I still wish and wonder of better days, of things I long to have. Without having to lift a finger.

"..."

Oh you know me from inside out. I tend to easily forget that. Must you play so smoothly with my strings? Push buttons I never knew existed or how to protect them from others? You want me to ask, don't you? Very well.

"How...how are they?" Do they live normally without me there? Or do they pretend like I do? I'm not certain if I want to know the answer. What do I even want to accomplish by this? Do I want to learn if they ever felt remorse, if they changed their minds? We parted on less than ideal circumstances after all. I remember being mad at them. Holding tight my impulse to lash out physically. Exchanging some hurtful words and insults. Trying to make them see the wrongs did to me.

Shameful.

"They're fine." they retort.

I see. We're avoiding the topic then. Good.

Neither of us finds it easy to talk about. I do not wish to disturb the silence surounding us. I'm content.

Enjoying nature came flawlessly. We found that out while we were still together, never separating from eachother. We used to play with branches, leaves and rocks. Splashing the water on ourselves — I don't know who won the river war. How we nurtured our first pet. Now the nature we've been fascinated about is something we love to adore and admire.

We look at the landscape and reminise the past. Our thoughts similar yet divided. We stay like this while time is getting more unclear and unrestrictive.

They let go of my hand, stand up and sigh, "I'll leave you to it now. But don't lose yourself, please."

I understand loud and clear so I nod. Even though it feels like my intestines are squeezed at this.

And suddenly I can't sense their person. I'm left alone. It's fine. I can continue to daydream. I'm going to leave, I just don't know when quite yet.

Sun is starting to rise behind the horizon, painting the sky with beautiful and light pastel hues. Intent on waking up fellow plants and animals. The river in early light seems to have slowed down, no longer racing but steadily trekking.

What was I supposed to do?

I sigh and slowly stand up, unsure of my legs not giving out under me.

I extend my hand with my index finger straight. It's worth waiting for.

I look beneath the cliff at the white cold nothingness. I feel myself getting restless. Anticipation sparks my nerves in all the right places.

Finally a beautiful blue-winged butterfly rests upon my finger. I go to stroke its body. Shh...

With quick moves I take hold of its pretty wings and pull and tear—

The last thing it sees shall be my smile. I take grasp of its body and I throw in the river's direction. The remaining wings I add to my pile.

With my back turned at the edge of this cliff — I lean backwards. I'm smiling with closed eyes and falling to achieve awareness.

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I open my eyes. I greet my bedroom, sun peaks through my blinds.

Ughh, I don't want to get up.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

♪ I'll see you again in a dream

So far away...

Repeating, repeating

I'm dying

I'm breathing

Repeating, repeating

I'm crying

I'm healing

Repeating, repeating... ♫︎

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

#original character #original work #teen and up audiences #dreams #imagination #reupload #cross posted on wattpad

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Masterlist²

꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

T e e n W o l f

Oneshots:

Nothing yet...

#masterlist #fanfic #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #peter hale #steter #oneshot

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Masterlist²

꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

O R I G I N A L

W O R K S

Quiet Nature[T]

Where: One person admires nature and has a conversation with an old friend. Though some things are not what they seem.

At Peace [G]

Where: A girl at her place of comfort.

Letting Go[M]

Warnings: suicide, self-harm, depression, description/mention of blood and vomit, low self-esteem, suicidal thoughts, and more

Where: A girl, in her safe haven, goes too far and won't wake up.

#masterlist #original work #no fandom #original character #stories

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

I hereby declare that I have done the same thing I seen other pages have.

And yes, I am talking here about having Ko-Fi!

Your friendly AnxietyVoid can now receive tips!

Now when somebody gets the idea to motivate me or show me some love - they can do so freely-

No, wait-

They can do so with no hesitation! Ha ha!

Thank you! Thank you!

You're all wonderful.

Now, now...

I'm also posting there certain things that won't be uploaded here on tumblr.

So don't be afraid to check it out.

My Ko-Fi page is planned to be a way to view me "behind the scenes". ;]

Anything can change with time, for now I'm a teenager playing desperate. Yet still aiming for improvement.

So if diving head first into my mind or life is your favourite past time - don't let me stop you!

This is just a little sneak peak of my first post on there ☟︎︎︎:

" All stories and tales - deceivers extraordinare,

dreams do not come true.

Desires are useless.

Hope is misleading. "

Yes, my first post on there is a poem by a person that doesn't know the rules.

Get to know my writing style:

Masterlist²

or y'know

Ko-Fi

#poetry #artist on kofi #tip me please #amatour poetry #sneak peak #begginerartist #begginer writer

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

✨ Meowpheus ✨

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Masterlist

Prompt used: Bite, Flashbacks

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of The Endless, random OC Patricia created just for this

Tags: hurt/comfort, possible out of character,

! Warnings ! : flashback (if I succeeded) of an ambush (though it's probably more of a subtext), blood

Word count: 1868

This is one hell of a slippery slope, I swear.

────────────※ ·❆· ※────────────

New Year's Eve is coming up.

Hob has a love-hate relationship of sorts with this holiday. Well... he doesn't have anything against the holiday itself, but what it entails — fireworks. 

It was the sounds that bothered him. That's also the reason for his near half-century hatred of poppers or bang snaps. Reminded him a bit too much of artillery shells bursting in the air. But after his participation in The Great War and WWII?

(However brief that one was. It got too dangerous too fast. Sue him for not wanting a part in that.)

He had found out the hard way that sudden flashes of light have joined "Hob's private party of various PTSD triggers".

He can certainly try to avoid getting triggered. But one can only go so far out of their way to do so. Been there, done that. 

Because surely a notorious tendency to move out of cities around New Year's Eve is such a fantastic habit. Heading to the closest available secluded and unpopulated areas can be a nightmare. There's traffic and weather to consider, and ughh, the iced-over roads. All in all not really ideal in the long run.

Nowadays, at times like this, he opted to staying inside and listening to music or other media with his noise cancelling headphones.

He'd stay holed up in his apartment. High stock of food? — some leftovers from Christmas Dinner, but most just from his excessive grocery runs for Christmas — ✓Check. 

Hob is sure to avoid any reasons to go outside. Whether he succeeds or not is a whole other thing. 

He did actually pick up the habit of listening to music when outdoors. It helps. It's not foolproof, that's for certain, but if it works - it works.

Nonetheless there are moments when taking off those headphones is simply polite and right thing to do. 

Like today.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Dream had found himself on high alert the second Hob had gotten out of bed. There was a tension to him that Dream hasn't seen before. He tried his best to provide comfort for his friend, but it didn't seem to be helping much. 

The entire time the air between them was charged with uncertainty and apprehension. Perhaps Hob can read him - even in cat form - like an open book. It shouldn't be surprising. After all, by their sixth meeting, in 1889, Hob already saw more than Dream had liked or let on at the time. The human hadn't even been afraid to speak his mind.

Dream witnessed how throughout the day it was getting worse. To an unobservant individual nothing would have been amiss. But Dream has known Hob longer, than any human ever could, therefore he saw those changes with no difficulty. Hob lead fewer conversations with even fewer words and little Hob-like expressiveness. 

Dream lazily follows Hob's movement. 

When push came to shove, it took mere seconds for Hob to cave. 

✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎✿︎

Back and forth between the fridge, the oven and the cupboards. 

A melody softly escapes the immortal's lips now and again. Not unfamiliar, but Dream won't delve into its name or by whom. 

After stewing the minced meat, Hob goes ahead with layering the pasta sheets, sliced cheese and prepared meat into a pyrex dish. 

The oven's digital clock struck 17:53 when Hob's phone starts ringing.

"Hello?" 

The response isn't audible that far from the counter Dream lies on. Scratch that, it would be hard to hear from a closer distance anyway, because Hob has earphones plugged in. Whatever it was, it was enough for Hob's shoulders to tense.

"Pat!" Hob turns to turn off the oven. 

"What's wrong? You never call me." Dream lifts his head at the worried tone and is quickly approached. Shaky fingers caress his head and neck. 

"Oh love," his eyes close, "do you need me to come over?" 

Hob slowly opens his eyes, eyebrows raise and with a softer voice, "Do you want me to?"

The answer must be positive, because his friend says, "Take some deep breaths for me, Patts." with that placating type of smile, and  "I'll be right there."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"-bert. Rob, hello. Earth to Robbie Rob Bobby-" 

Hob is shaken from his thoughts, only to be greeted by a finger poking his cheek repeatedly. His gaze flows from the finger up the arm to the shoulders and finally rest on Patricia's irritated face. 

Oops.

"There you are! I've been trying to get your attention for minutes, Rob." 

"Sorry, Patts. I got to lost in my thoughts again." He gives a nervous chuckle, then adds with humor "Who would've thought bloodshed is so enticing." 

"Rob!" She gasps with indignation and hits him upside the head, "I don't need you to protect my honour. I can handle myself." 

"I know. I know you can." He brings up his hands in an "I-mean-you-no-harm" gesture. 

He clears his throat, "So...can we go through it again?"

"You know, if I wanted someone to sit around and ignore me I might as well have chosen Logan." Patricia stands up from the kitchen counter to resume pacing. "You are a fantastic guy, Robert. I need your help, so focus stays here mister."

"Full attention. Got it. No distractions." Hob nods his head and throws a sheepish smile.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Dream settles on Hob's lap and absentmindedly listens to the conversation between Patricia and Hob. From time to time Hob's hand goes down his spine or to scratch his head. That's fine, Dream is here to offer support and comfort. No more or less at the moment.

Patricia's earnest and expressive voice introduces an unnoticeable tune. Electric hum makes for a quiet echoic bass line. Freshly put kettle on the stove awaits its solo part.

It happens some time along Patricia's second retelling - a sudden noise that puts an end to this unheard odd melody and silent calm.

Dream's attention shoots to his friend. Immediately notes the distant yet focused look in Hob's eyes. Dream, not noticing Hob scanning the place, was just about to direct that focus to him, but-

A second cracking sound slips through the open window, and with it- 

Patricia gasps as Hob falls to the ground and scrambles away to a wall.

For a second there was nothing else, but Hob's heavy breathing audible.

Suddenly the kettle started to whistle and all hell broke loose.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Hob holds his breath, strains his ears and waits.

He listens and listens. His heartbeat strong and loud within his chest. Adrenaline rushing through his blood. He scans the room for the best place to hide, the closest weapon. Just in case his ears were right.

He doesn't know how long he waits but there it is again! 

He drops to the ground and swiftly crawls to the wall. Away from any door's or window's view. 

His hand itches. A wooden chair's leg will suffice. He has to break it away.

Not yet.

His heart hammers in his chest. He waits ready for an opportunity to present itself. 

Now!

With precise moves the wooden chair gives out with ease.

A long whistle blast, perfect. Good enough to mask that racket with.

Then he snaps his head around upon hearing a hurt yelp.

Hob for the first time acknowledges the other's presence. He sees Helen cradling her hand to her chest. Sees the blood staining her dress. 

God's wounds. It's one thing to witness fellow comrades being wounded in action. Quite another when it's innocent civilians. 

The sound of an opening window snaps him back to the present. He swings with force at it, anticipating someone to reach through it, to hurt them.

Except - no one did.

Fuck. 

He can't go back to his waiting position, he compromised his location. He closes his eyes and inhales. He needs to think.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Dream jumps on a stool and without hesitation bites Patricia in her left hand. 

She yelps but brings her attention to the cat.

There, at least she's no longer frozen. 

Dream gestures his head toward the window.

Patricia with her hand pressed to her chest, looks back and forth between Dream, Hob and the window. Like she's unsure what Dream wants her to do.

At last she approaches the window and shuts it.

So he narrows his eyes and with theatrical exaggeration snaps his jaws. A clear intent. It's not hard to understand.

Suddenly Hob takes a big swing with the leg and Patricia misses being hit by a hair.

She takes multiple steps backwards. They both see Hob freeze.

In seconds his attention is back on Patricia. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Hob opens his eyes and turns to Helen, and whisper, "Are you okay?"

Why is there so much blood?

"Yeah..." 

He doesn't see her look at him puzzled. With efficiency he tears a fragment of his shirt, approaches her and wraps Helen's hand to stop the bleeding somewhat.

"That should do it."

He grabs her other hand and drags her to the bedroom. Once there Hob makes her sit behind the closet while he, himself, guards the door. Listening and ready to defend. He calms his heart. He looks at her and puts his finger to his lips. 

She nods. Good. 

He closes his eyes and focuses on his hearing.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Dream follows them close behind and stands near the sitting woman, watching closely both humans.

Minutes pass and the impromptu bandage on Patricia's hand is starting to leak. Drop by drop it adds to the main stain on her shirt, expanding it.

At some point Hob slid down the wall to the floor.

Dream in measured steps goes to Hob and decides to lie next to the immortal human's leg.

In took a few long moments, but finally Hob has opened his eyes and noticed Dream.

"Oh."  

Hob lets go of the wooden leg. He groans and thumps his head on the wall behind him.

"You with us now, Robert?" Patricia speaks up shakily, unsure.

"Yep, body and mind in one place." Hob chuckles with no humor.

"You know that cat of yours is very protective of you. I have a wound to prove it." Patricia gestures at her hand. Dream narrows his eyes at the woman. 

Of course I'm protective of him, he's my only friend.

Patricia lets out a thoughtful hum, "I wonder if it'll scar..." 

A breathy exhale leaves Hob.

"Vicious, isn't he?" A crooked smile disappears as quickly as it appeared. Dream in response licks Hob's fingers.

"Are you alright? You gave me quite a scare there Robert. I bet your cat too."

"Hm?" Hob lifts his head, "Oh. Don't worry, I'm fine. It was a long time coming." A poor imitation of a carefree-like voice, but it still holds tention beneath. Such a simple thing betraying one's emotional state.

"If you say so." Patricia's voice is woven with doubt.

"Really, Patts. You don't have to worry." 

"Ok, I believe you.",

Hob raises his eyebrow, "Okay?" 

"Okay," then, "as long as you receive help... not my business."

Hob sends her a grateful smile. "Thanks."

He nods his head and takes deep breaths. Minute long silence passes.

"So listen, about your problem, I dunno if you want my advice or not. But if I were you I'd think it would be for the best if..."

────────────※ ·❆· ※────────────

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

────────────※ ·❆· ※────────────

Also sorry for taking so long to write this. TwT

Positive and constructive criticism is welcome. I'll embrace any advice coming my way.

@fandom-free-bingo

#bingo #dreamling #FrostyEditionBingo #FandomFreeBingo #dreamling fanfic #fanfic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #meowpheus #the sandman #hurt/comfort #my ocs #flashback

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Masterlist²

꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

H a n n i b a l

Oneshots:

Impatience [T]

Where: Hannibal and Will have an argument while Hannibal stitches Will after a hunt.

#masterlist #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannigram #fanfic

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Masterlist²

꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

L u c i f e r T V

Oneshots:

A Parting Gift [T]

Where: Amenadiel takes care of Lucifer's wings and they have a little heart to heart.

#lucifer tv #lucifer #lucifer morningstar #masterlist #fanfic

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Masterlist²

꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

C r i m i n a l M i n d s

Oneshots:

Last Minute [M]

TW: Suicidal thoughts, drug addiction, depression, self-harm

Where: Spencer calls Derek while facing self-inflicted life-threatening situation.

#masterlist #fanfic #oneshot #criminal minds

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Masterlist²

꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷

T h e S a n d m a n

Oneshots:

Day like any Other [G]

Where: Dream visits Hob and share kisses with each other.

Series:

✨ Meowpheus ✨ (unfinished)

Where: Dream is insecure, gets misguided advice, but overall enjoys himself. Hob aquires a cat and lives his life as always. Death interferes, those idiots stop pining and finally get together.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

#the sandman #dreamling fanfic #dream of the endless #dreamling #hob gadling #masterlist

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Wait-!

Please check out this -> post <-!

Before proceeding further and skipping straight to my Masterlist.

I pretty much introduce my blog in there, so...

⚛》》》》》》》》》》》◆《《《《《《《《《《《⚛

Main Masterlist:

Also known as Masterlist² or Master²list

By me.

Original Work Masterlist

Bingo-sort:

Frosty Edition Bingo

Valentine Edition Bingo

Fandom-sort:

The Sandman

Lucifer

Criminal Minds

Hannibal

Teen Wolf

⚛》》》》》》》》》》》◆《《《《《《《《《《《⚛

☕︎ Tip me with coffee ? ☕︎

#masterlist #fandomfreebingo #bingo #fanfic #Masterlist² #master²list #the sandman #hannibal #criminal minds #lucifer tv #teen wolf #original work

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

Darkest Confession = Requested

[Human!Alastor x Serial Killer Enthusiast!Reader]

Everyone have that one thing that really really sets them apart from the group, right? Some can be way too addicted with coffee that they don’t sleep much cause of it, or some can be so obsessed with ducks that they have a whole collection of it (ahem Lucifer ahem anyways…). Either way, usually it’s harmless

No, not you

You were no police officer or detective, or any career related to crime. You were someone simple working from place to place, always moving. Yet you found yourself engrossed with the art of killing. No, you don’t kill yourself. But you love to read about the people that do, specifically, serial killers

To just have the urge to kill and do it then deal with the consequences. It was like the most extreme of goal making. The thing with serial killers is that they mostly pick random people off the streets and kill for whatever reason they have. One can’t link the killings back to the killer because there was none! Oh, how you eat those stories up like a bedtime story

You somewhat study serial killers and their killings, feeling drawn to them enough that you’d move from place to place. It was your drive and your calling. One you keep quite deep down, you’d let this side of you out from time to time, but you had to control it since some might think you deserve the straight jacket or put in a hospital, or just label you as mental

Close friends and your family knew this side of you and said one day you’d be in deep waters for this interest of yours. They had advised you to stop and just push it away, find something else to think. Maybe a romantic partner that you can settle down with?

Hell no! (like Charlie to Val)

You follow serial killer stories from place to place. As sad that it was to know it after the killings were brought to light because of the slow news outlet, you take what you can. You’d mostly maybe catch a glimpse of the killer, behind bars or during trials

There was a few close calls. You recall yourself impersonating a reporter to interview the killer and your interest in them got them to talk, but you had to left before someone caught on you weren’t a reporter. Another time, a writer hired a helper to talk with a killer on trial, you wrote so much notes that the writer wanted you long term

Still no, you left to follow more serial killers when you could

You heard of a serial killer at large. In New Orleans, City in Louisiana. You heard it over the radio from a rising host that took over the hearts of the people, even outside of his hometown. He detailed the killings, even claiming to have seen a few of the bodies alongside the police so he could offer a clearer picture to the listeners of the horrors the killer can do and wasn’t afraid to show off

A serial killer still free and in society. While the other listeners in the cafe shivered and whispers to each other to be cautious or relief that the killer wasn’t in their town or city, you were planning your next travel

Next stop the New Orleans, hunting ground of the Bayou Serial Killer

Settling down was easy since you had been so custom to it. Like always, you wandered a bit, get the feel of the place and its people, the vibe of the city so you can fit in. Then you visited the place where the bodies were found, information provided by the local newspaper and the radio talkshows

You didn’t know then. That someone was following you after a few of your visits to the body dumping grounds. You certainly didn’t know that chance encounter with the radio host was staged

“I’d like coffee, black!” You heard the familiar voice ring. You didn’t have to look up to know the customers and staff members of the cafe all drawn to the man that ordered at the counter. You rolled your eyes. It was the famous radio host, Alastor, he started frequenting this cafe only recently (when you showed up in town) and would take his morning coffee here before he goes live

If only he was a serial killer or someone close to one… You remember the first time seeing him when he entered the cafe. You wanted to approach him, but he was always eyed by the people that put him on a pestasole. You learned to stay clear of people like that because, there were always some fans crazier than the other. Take yourself as an example, with your obsession and addiction to killers

“May I join you, my dear fellow?” Your eyes quickly scanned the place. Why was it so full today? You didn’t say anything and just gestured to the empty seat opposite to you in your booth. Great, now you had to go to work early because you wanted to avoid him. Wait

“Are you writing your script now?” You blinked at the notepad Alastor started to scribble over, you couldn’t just start by asking ‘are you writing your script on the serial killer? Can I see, please?’. Your keen eyes caught the words ‘serial killer’ and ‘bodies’

Alastor chuckled and said he was merely reorganizing his thoughts so he could envision his radio host as smoothly as possible for the listeners. You blink ‘for the listeners’, again with that. But does he really put others first behind himself? Somehow you didn’t think so

Of course his notes got you to put your attention on him. Alastor had to internally grin. He noticed a new face in town after some time. Then he noticed you going to his dumping grounds. He had thought you were a new detective or police to hunt him down by looking over new evidence. He thought he was right when he saw you noting down the surroundings even with the absence of the body

You were followed carefully to check if you had family and/or friends that would make a fuss of your disappearance. When you had none, he thought you were an easy target. But you weren’t a detective nor a police. Imagine his surprise when he only found you returning home. Never once had you went to the police with that notepad of yours

Odd

So he followed some more. It then that he noticed you had a spark in your eyes whenever serial killers or their killings were mentioned. While other would shiver with the sight of fear in their eyes, you had interest and excitement. So odd, but he didn’t dislike it. It fueled his interest in you

He tried striking conversations with you, but you were so plain and common, one he can brush off as a local polite individual. You fitted in with the commonality that quickly and easily. Though his concern was your disinterest and ignorance to him, he once let his assistant to play a pre-recorded show to see your reactions to his killings reported

There it was. You and that spark of yours with that notepad and pen, writing so furiously like you were possessed. You were more expressive and childish even, swaying from side to side, tapping your feet, drumming your fingers. It was like he witnessed your true self. He confirmed it when the topic changed and like a switch, you were that mundane self of yours

It was all so fasincinating to him and he had to talk to the real you. So he staged this meeting. He was right on the money, you would start off with someone common, then poke at your interest, wanting him to start the topic so you’d be involved. Slowly and with time though, you’d just talk outright with him

It was routine for him, meeting you before his show at that cafe and in their secluded booth you basically marked your own when it was in the morning. He’s review his notes with you and then talk about the (his) killings with you, the newest discoveries, the clues that detectives and polices missed, all that juicy details you’d like

Another problem came. You saw him as a friend. He saw you as a romantic interest

To you, it was rare that you could connect this much with someone. No one back home, not even your closest family members and frends, would indulge with you in this interest of yours. No matter how much you spoke your thoughts on serial killers and their killings, Alastor didn’t push you away and even ask questions on your thoughts. You cared so much for him, as a friend, but he wasn’t your interest

To him, you were now one of his reason to kill more. That bloodlust was on par with the spark you’d have in your eyes when he struck again. Some poor victim died and you only focused on him, the killer! He once compared you to his friend Mimzy, she knew and helped his killings, but she didn’t give him the same joy and bubbly emotions he’d have when talking to you about his kills. It wasn’t the same. So were you the one? The one to his cold dark heart.

And he confessed. More than just his feelings

“My dearest darling, I would be so honoured if you’d agree to allow me the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to officially court you.”

“No.” There was no hesitation in your voice, nor was there a pause. “Sorry, Alastor, I just considered myself married to serial killers. Or at least, this one in your town. I love them no matter what. So I can’t accept your feelings. But I hope we can continue being fr—”

Alastor held onto you, it was just a stroke of luck that this place was the secluded forest he was familiar with. He kneeled down on one knee and kissed your knuckles, his eyes staring straight at you with that crazed look in his eyes and that murderous grin he only let his victims see, “Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Alastor, the Bayou Serial Killer.”

Note: I had SO MUCH FUN writing for this. Thank you for suggesting this, Any~ (I’ll just call all the anonymous asks this from now on). I would tag the person but this is anonymous request (╯︿╰)

Requests are open, but keep in mind of what I wrote in the Masterlist. I’ll ultimately decide whether or not to write for them. Thanks!

Circe Y.

MASTERLIST

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

✨ Meowpheus ✨

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<- Previous Part Next Part ->

────────────※ ·❆· ※────────────

Masterlist Masterlist²

Prompt used: Panic Attack

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of The Endless, Hob Gadling

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, possible out of character

Warnings: panic attack

Word count: 936

────────────※ ·❆· ※────────────

╰┈┈➤ PREVIOUSLY

Hob's jaw practically hit the floor. Where before a cat was lying on the couch's armrest, now sits his Stranger.

Silence stretches as Hob's staring wide-eyed at his Friend, and Dream avoids making eye contact.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Spending time with Hob has been a rare delicacy. He got too comfortable.

Oh, how Dream wishes to curse his sister for her timing, but he won't. He has foolishly forgotten it wouldn't last forever, didn't even know when Desire planned to end this charade. He couldn't stand the thought of it ending at all.

The moment Death has come, he was instantly filled with dread. He saw the confusion on Hob's face at Death's actions and could anticipate Hob's realisation, hurt, and inevitably betrayal.

He had to brace himself for rejection and Hob's justified anger.

Perhaps Hob will forgive him again?

No. No, before it was out of his control to miss their meeting. But this— this was intentional. Perhaps it'll be the last straw and Hob will want him to leave and not come back. That thought alone coiled his being tight bringing out a humid storm inside him.

He doesn't want to lose him. Hob is his friend, he takes the loneliness away. He doesn't want to but Hob deserves better. If he'd wish it Dream will go back to being alone again.

Distantly the Dreaming is enveloped in a dense fog, so thick that if one were to slice it, it would only leave a faint cut; making it all that difficult to move. Few unlucky denizens, scrambling for shelter, were slowed down, practically unable to move further. Nightmares with their sharp edges come to rescue dreams not strong enough to manage these conditions.

It will feel wrong, he will feel wrong. Alone again. Too soon.

Hob deserves to be free of him but oh, how he'll miss the human's warmth. It's unfathomable and ultimately unavoidable, he'll get used to being cold again. He must. Hob's worth it.

He can already feel the upcoming cold; a sharp, white noise of irritating itches.

The Dreaming's air stilled as the mist has frozen, dreams and nightmares alike feel disbelief, and andrenaline. The ice is of irregular shape - crystal-like, and sharp shards forming from the rain stab surfaces with hisses and whizzes.

Unbearable, it'd be unbearable but Dream will endure. For Hob.

No. Better not to think of Hob, it'll be too painful. Yet it was the thought of Hob that made him steel his resolve inside the glass.

He hears nothing. Everything? It's ringing, humming?

Hob? Yes Hob. Soft Hob with bright gentle eyes and joyous smiles, comfortable and warm and safe.

Where is he again? Silence is buzzing within him. When did the air go stale?

Wrong. What's wrong? What did he miss? Hob might know. Hob's clever.

Dream stills as melodic notes reach him.

*Fr---d! Dr--m?*

No, not notes, voice. Warm and concerned. Safe... Is that Hob's voice surrounding him?

*...d you to c-me back.*

Hob.

*You're safe. I'm here. You c-*

With Hob, safe. Yes. What is he doing here? Did Burgess get him too?

*-ry later. Gonna touch you now. Okay Friend?*

The moment Hob's hand made contact with Dream, time resumed in the Dreaming. All shards, previously suspended in the air, violently plunge to the ground with a shatter.

Hob's touch was enough to startle Dream back to Hob's flat and away from Burgess's basement. Not yet enough for Dream to calm.

"I need you to focus on me. Alright?" Hob's concerned voice fully reaches Dream. Then hesitant, Dream slowly drags his eyes upwards to Hob's face. That earned him an encouraging smile. "Good. That's it. You're doing great." Hob says and leads Dream's hand to put against his chest, then "I want you to match my breathing now."

Dream mimics the slow and steady movement of Hob's chest. After a while Dream has found his voice; his mind fully present with Hob.

"I'm sorry." He says and then Hob's smile turns sad.

"Nothing to apologise for my Friend. I'm no stranger to panic attacks." Hob says, gentle.

Dream's eyes flutter shut to stop tears from appearing. Why is Hob gentle with him? He surely doesn't deserve it.

"I should leave. I'm sorry for intruding, Hob Gadling."

"Who said anything about leaving? And you truly didn't bother me or intrude." Hob blurts out, hand darting out to grasp Dream's arm as Dream started to stand. "While I can't deny I have questions. They can wait. I'd rather be sure you're alright Stranger." Hob spoke with a strained, nervous grin, his grip on Dream's arm weakening.

"If...I'm alright? Certainly you must wish me gone for invading your privacy..?" Dream questions, unbelieving.

"Not really, no. I-" Hob licks his lips from nerves, "-I think it helped, helped you that is. Spending time with me. I don't know what happened to you Stranger," Dream tenses slightly, "-but you can come by. Anytime, doesn't matter. If it helps, I'll gladly give you my time." Dream glances at Hob's eager, honest eyes.

"You still want my company even-?" Dream begins, voice filled with emotion.

"Of course." Hob cuts him off. "I fought tooth and nail for the title of being your friend, Stranger. You're not getting rid of me that easily." Hob jokes but Dream can see nothing but the truth in that statement.

"I...Thank you Hob, my Friend." Dream nods, then "I owe you an explanation. I shall meet you tomorrow... I have something to attend to."

With that Dream makes his escape to the Dreaming leaving behind a stunned Hob Gadling staring where seconds before stood his friend.

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#dreamling #fanfic bingo #bingo #writing prompts #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #FandomFreeBingo #FrostyEditionBingo #meowpheus #hurt/comfort

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

✨ Meowpheus ✨

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Masterlist

Prompt used: "You Have No Idea", "Let Me See"

Rating: General

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Death of The Endless, Dream of The Endless, Hob Gadling

Tags: crack treated seriously, possible out of character, attempt at humor,

Warnings: none

Word count: 391

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The day after tomorrow is New Year's.

No matter how long he lived Hob finds time always seems to crawl or fly by. Turns out he's not immune to this wonky perception of time, being immortal only widens the scale.

Human lifetimes are longer compared to centuries before which Hob can't help but delight in. But lately his own lifetimes, identities seem to slip away faster and become shorter. He also got used to keeping his life split into parts, marked by the centennial meetings with his Stranger, but even that fell apart. And that's not taking in consideration they might meet up more frequently with a chance of irregularity.

Hob sighs heavily and was about to speak at Dream, when the doorbell rang. Dream lifts his head.

Hob gets up from the couch and makes his way to the door. When he opens it he's greeted with a dark skinned woman. She shoots him a quick apologetic smile. He didn't even have a chance to speak, because the brunette pushed past him inside.

"Dream there you are!" the woman exclaims, "You have no idea how worried I was! Matthew said that you were with Robert." she says sternly. "He commented it was after a talk with me. Me! I don't know why you thought it was a good idea in the first place." She points her finger as if scolding a disobedient child.

Dream seems to make himself smaller in shame. The woman kneels and continues speaking. "Now let me see what they did here.." She hummed and a second later takes off the cat's collar.

Hob's jaw practically hit the floor. Where before a cat was lying on the couch's armrest, now sits his Stranger.

"Now my part is done. I expect you to come to your senses. I'll see you in a bit little brother." She made her way out. Hob didn't pay her any mind, too disbelieving and fascinated to look away from his Friend.

He briefly notes the tension in Dream's jaw.

(Oh! He has a name! He know his Friend's name. Or not? He has called Dream "Dream" as a cat..is it his name? Still he has something by which to call his Friend. Should he even use it?)

Silence stretches as Hob's staring wide-eyed at his Friend, and Dream avoids making eye contact.

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#bingo #hob gadling #dream of the endless #meowpheus #the sandman #FrostyEditionBingo #FandomFreeBingo #fanfic #death of the endless #dreamling #dreamling fanfic

[un-unavoidableanxiousball]

✨Meowpheus ✨

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Masterlist

Prompt used: Wordless Encouragement, Nightmares

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of The Endless

Tags: hurt/comfort, possible out of character,

Warnings: none

Word count: 1237

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Ten days have passed since Hob was given Dream to take care of. He found Dream to be well behaved for a cat. Both of them fell into a routine. Hob brings Dream to his classes, making it more difficult for his students to focus. Since Dream proved to be the ultimate distraction.

One lesson of today touched the topic of slavery. Needless to say Hob went on another tangent about how wrong it is to take away someone else's freedom. Hob suspects Dream can tell he was unsettled, because afterwards the cat didn't stray too far from him and was far more cuddly.

So he's grateful when Dream joins him in bed, settling on his chest. He'll take company over being alone anytime. Hob runs his hand back and forth along Dream's back. He repeats the motion as the low vibrations against his chest ever so slowly lull him to sleep.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Now Hob's hand lies still as he is fully immersed in The Dreaming. Dream continues purring as Hob's heart slows its pace.

It has been somewhat refreshing to see Hob's ongoing and vehement passion. Students hang onto his words, with enjoyment and rapt attention. Minds taught the ways of their predecessors, presented honorable values. Morality shaped little by little and solidified when witnessed by the student's own eyes. Dream isn't even certain if Hob is aware of the influence he has on those he teaches.

Then there is the safety Hob offers. Dream likes to think that had it been anyone else, they wouldn't last six centuries, and if they did - long gone would be their enthusiasm.

But that's just it, Hob isn't anybody else. He basically radiates of excitement, and warmth. Hob's everlasting wish to live let him see worse sides of humanity, the dangers. While they didn't rob him of positivity, Dream can see the phantom touch of suffering on his mind, traces and scars Hob holds secretly within himself.

His inability to shift feels unbearable as if inside his body scorching hot coals were multiplying and dividing at once, sensation similar to that of running the chalk on a chalkboard; like dissonant murmurs inside one's head talking and pulling in every direction, yet each and every one getting ignored.

Does he wish to hold Hob close and tight in his embrace, and tell him he's forgiven him. To tell him again, and again, until he believes, because Hob, singular among men, regrets what he did and inspires to be better.

Suddenly Dream crashes against the floor.

In no time he finds himself on the bed again. This time observing on Hob. Dream notes the human's erratic breathing, and twitching fingers. Then when Dream focuses on Hob's dreamspace, he can feel edges of a nightmare reaching back.

He doesn't interfere. For nightmares serve purpose and to end them would be to rid dreamers of their lessons.

No, the nightmare will run its course. But that doesn't mean he can't comfort him here.

Dream moves closer to Hob's head and then nuzzles into his throat. Like this Dream can feel Hob's heart, so full of life, pumping blood in a repetetive and erratic pace. He places his right paw on Hob's head; then gently and slowly, cautious of his own claws, he adjusts the human's hair. Without the hair in the way, tear tracks were revealed and are glimmering in moonlight. New tear makes its way down Hob's cheekbone. Dream wants to erase them, lick them away, to get rid of Hob's pain. Hob lets out barely hearable words, breathy whispers they are.

Only three were getting to The Waking through Hob's lips "sorry", "please" and "wait". Dream meows in sympathy.

Soon enough Hob's body gives a brief jerk, signaling Dream that Hob is waking up.

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Hob opens his eyes. He sits up and leans against the headboard. His left hand clutches the pyjama top, while the other hand the duvet. Mind's reeling from the nightmare. No longer drowning in dread, regret and sorrow.

With his eyes closed, Hob focuses on calming down his racing heart. He's aware of his chest expanding with each following breath.

Images of furious and disappointed dark eyes flash before him. "I shall take my leave of you and prove you wrong."

He squeezes his eyes and whines in despair. Dream nudges Hob's wrist. *Mreow*

Hob sharply breaths in. The cat's cool damp nose and accompanying meow startled Hob enough from his thoughts. He brings his attention to Dream and starts petting.

"Did I scare you?" He says softly, "I'm okay. Nothing's wrong, little one. Just a nightmare." Hob says, more to comfort himself than Dream. "In fact, I expected it, should've warned you." Hob laughs, his voice shaky. "My fault for scaring you like that."

The cat tilted his head at Hob, a questioning glint in his eyes.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Hob asks, only to get a mew in answer. "Was it when I said I expected having a nightmare?" Hob guesses. At that Dream gives a few quick licks to Hob's fingers. "Ah...well, I'm no stranger to nightmares." He says with an odd tone, "This particular one has been recurring since 1890s. Sometimes there are some changes, but it always ends the same." Hob speaks shrugging his shoulders with fake nonchalance. "Over 600 years is a long time to get familiar with what might influence me. This is no exception." Hob scratches Dream's chin. "I learned that any reminder of my Stranger, like Shakespeare—" he scoffs, "—or the topic of slavery is basically a guarantee for nightmares."

Hob pauses, his fingers however continue their ministrations through the cat's fur. The short silence was broken by Dream's impatient murmur.

"I hoped today would be different." The admission is quiet. So quiet that were it not nighttime it would not be heard, even by Dream. A stray tear made its way down Hob's cheek, the sight made Dream still. Hob speaks slowly, voice low, a mere whisper in the dark bedroom. "Unlike other ones, tonight it—" he clears his throat, "I thought with my Stranger coming back and admitting us friends, it wouldn't be an issue. Not anymore." There's a paw placed on his chest. "Foolish, eh?" Hob's laugh is choked with tentative, fragile hope. "Should've known better. Like flipping a switch. Nothing works like that - I know that. I just hoped that maybe this once it could?" Another tear gleams in moonlight as it runs down Hob's cheek. "Being abandoned isn't fun. And to get that reminder even if my Friend visits me? " His voice strained, "Really sounds like an unnecessary way to torment myself." Dream made a quick chirping noise.

"You know, for a while there I thought you'd be my undoing. You remind me so much of my Friend. Though between you and him, you're way more affectionate." A poor attempt at humor, but it brought a small smile on Hob's face. Though if Dream's expression is anything to go by, it truly wasn't amusing.

It's silent after that. Hob unsure whether to sleep or stay awake, but somehow still lighter after speaking about his troubles.

Dream on the other hand feels heavy with guilt and slight unease. Witnessing the results of his absence was excruciating, yet it didn't compare to the pain at the realisation of how his abrupt escape in 1889 has effected Hob.

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@fandom-free-bingo if tags are incorrect, let me know.

My writing probably went down hill. Midway through I got a writer block or sth and couldn't bring myself to finish this. TwT

Instead I wrote two following parts 5 & 6, yet I can't post them because there's unwritten part 4 standing in the way.

Oh, I almost forgot!

Merry Christmas!🎄🎅

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