Random Cook (looking At A Massive Spread Of Sweets): Why Did We Make This Again?

paddington and winnie the pooh would be best friends and i’ll fucking fight anyone who dares to disagree

Listen, I know Dream winning his duel with Lucifer with hope is like... A BIG DEAL and super symbolic and beautiful, HOWEVER I have something that may not be better, but would definitely be FUNNIER. 

Dream loses. He's been locked in a bubble and had his hopes dashed again and again, even though he's still fighting and still hopeful, it's harder for him to reach that and it doesn't come to mind in time for him to win against Lucifer. He's to stay as a servant in Hell and there's no Endless or divine being that can or will come to his aid. He's trapped. Again. 

Only Matthew isn't Jessamy, Matthew knows when the best way to help is a tactical retreat to gather reinforcements. So that's what he does, going immediately to Luciene like, "Hey, so, uh..." And there has to be some way they can help him! Luciene makes it clear that none of the dreaming denizens can. None of the Endless can, no deity would be of any help there against Lucifer. There are Old Laws dictating that Dream lost fair and square and no one can interfere with that. And Matthew's like, "Well what about someone who can challenge Lucifer to win him back? Someone not bound by the Old Laws?" 

"The only beings not bound by the Old Laws are humans. There's no human--" 

Except there is. There's one. One human that Dream would go off once a century to meet, and it's a long shot, but-- 

That's how Hob Gadling finds himself being approached by a talking raven asking him to trek into hell to rescue his boss. "You know, Dream of the Endless? Lord Morpheus?" 

Hob doesn't know who the hell the bird is talking about until Matthew describes him. "Oh, my Stranger!"

"...He seriously didn't even tell you his name?" 

Now, the idea of setting foot into Hell itself to do battle with Lucifer Morningstar is, y'know... Not something he wants to do. He confirms over and over if Matthew is SURE he doesn't have to die to achieve this, because he's not ready to leave yet, and Matthew is like, "Yeah, buddy, shouldn't be a problem." He's lying. He has no idea if it's a problem. (It's not.) 

Hob is like, "Yeah, but... I can't FIGHT Satan himself and expect to win, I AM still human." 

And Matthew's like, "You don't actually have to fight her, it's like a game! But uh... Pretty sure you still feel all the pain and stuff." And he explains the rules, and like, okay, feeling the painful death of whatever kills whatever you decide to be in your round SUCKS, but Hob's been through that before. It's actually a pretty intriguing game, one he thinks he might win. 

See, the way he sees it, it's a combination of the "times infinity" type of game (I love you, I love you more, I love you times two, I love you times a thousand, I love you times a million-- so on and so on) with that counting game where you either say one or two numbers, back and forth with someone, and whoever says 21 loses. Basically, there's one logical conclusion the game is going to reach. Someone is going to bust out the "times infinity" or in this case, "heat death of the universe" or some other completely life-ending thing. And like with the counting game, if you can get your opponent to say specific numbers on the way to 21, you can make sure they're forced to say it. 

There's a strategy if you think ahead enough, and he has an entire walk through Hell to plan it. 

(It SUCKS. He sees Robyn there. It breaks his heart. It's meant to, it's meant to keep him from reaching the palace, seeing his son in Hell, but they don't know Hob. They don't know the grief he's had to overcome in order for him to say, with absolute certainty, that he still wants to live even though it hurts. He reaches that citadel.)

Dream is, of course, horrified to see Hob there. Hob meanwhile is like a jilted exe all, "Yeah, yeah, we're not friends, you stood me up, but I'm still here for you because I'm the bigger person and I fucking care." 

He challenges Lucifer for Dream's helm and their safe passage out of Hell. Lucifer is... Intrigued. She just beat Dream of the Endless, and this human thinks he can beat her when humanity's collective unconsciousness couldn't? His immortality has made him cocky, clearly. So she accepts, and bargains that if Hob loses, he has to give up his immortality. 

There's a good minute where Hob pauses at that and has to really think about whether his arrogant, condescending not-friend is really worth that but yeah, yeah he is. Meanwhile Dream is off to the side. "Don't do this, Hob Gadling. It is not your responsibility to fix my missteps." Basically his version of pleading for Hob to leave and not risk this up until Lucifer is like enough out of you and shuts him up. 

They play. Lucifer starts out with the wolf again, because it's a good starting point to see what direction her opponent plans to take, to get a glimpse into Hob's mindset entering this game. Her plan is, of course, to cause pain enough that Hob will have a hard time thinking, but Hob makes that really fucking hard from the get-go and throws everyone in the room for a loop when his answer is...

"I am the over hunting of the local deer population. Ecosystem destabilizing, predator killing."

Well. Okay. Yeah, sure. Fucking fine. It's hard to kill that painfully. Lucifer manages to come up with, "I am hunting restrictions, nature preserving, ecosystem balancing." 

Hob, by that point, is like, I got this, actually. This might be fun. "I am the expansion of civilization. Forest destroying, hunting law nullifying." 

Matthew, who had been feeling pretty iffy about calling this guy in to help, is no longer questioning that choice. Dream is a little starry-eyed. 

Eventually Hob is the head of the Home Owner's Association. Lucifer is a bear, scrap hunting, person killing. Hob is family, revenge-seeking, bear euthanizing. Lucifer is Pride, argument starter, family destroying. Hob is friendship, blood covenant, thicker than womb water. Lucifer is jealousy, friendship rending, relationship ruining. Hob is personal growth, jealousy ending, apology giving. Lucifer is relapse, progress destroying, confidence killing. Hob is perseverance, step taking, progress rebuilding. On and on until finally Lucifer decides to end this the way she did with Dream and Hob leads her along until it reaches that natural conclusion, the death of all. 

Now there's some temptation there to go with the obvious, since he can't die even if the universe was destroyed. At least he doesn't think so. But he had already decided that it was an obvious choice to go for and he could think of a few clever ways Lucifer might get around that. So instead, Hob goes the far better choice and personal insult of being God, universe creator, life giver. He's very proud of himself when the demons erupt into boos and Lucifer looks about ready to rip his fucking throat out with her teeth. 

The way he sees it, there are two choices for her there, unless she really pulls something unexpected out of her ass. Option one is the whole "what's a god to an atheist" thing in which Hob would have then been a miracle, faith affirming, god-proving. Not much can destroy a miracle. 

But Lucifer, livid and prideful, goes with option two. "I am Lucifer Morningstar, God defying, His Kingdom ripped sunder!" 

And Hob has the absolute glee to grin and go, "I am Hob Gadling, clever, death defying, and triumphant over Lucifer Morningstar."

He and Dream are promptly kicked out of Hell on their asses, Dream's helm is thrown at his head with a force strong enough to break the sound barrier, and the gates are slammed shut behind them. The whole thing is so humiliating that Lucifer has to change their gender and moves to LA to open a nightclub.

So… when people go to Starbucks, they sometimes use celebrity names, right? I saw this post on Pinterest (one of those older Tumblr screenshots) and this person said their name was Tony Stark and they ran into someone who called themselves Bruce Wayne. So that happens, right?

Okay, so, imagine you're working as a barista at some place and you get so many people telling you their name is a pro hero name. The amount of Dekus you have served this week is off the charts and you had no idea Shoto could shape shift into forty different people. In all honesty, though, it's funny and kinda the highlight of your week.

This one day, someone comes in and they tell you there name is Dynamight. Not only does the shy smile on his face tell you, no, it's not Dynamight, but like literally everything else does too. Okay, normal. You place the order and then take the next person in line. This person is also Dynamight. This has happened before and, to prevent confusion, you dub this person Dynamight 1.

The next customer is a stoic man by the name David. The two of you connect eyes, both inwardly laughing at the funny little encounter that just transpired. David is dubbed nice David, a name you mumble and the stoic man hums with joy, you think.

Anyway, after David is—well, a large, intimating man which wild ash-blond hair and sharp crimson eyes which are enhanced by his dark mask. You blink up at him, shocked for a moment before your eyes flicker to Nice David. You both share a look of shock before evil grins appear in your eyes.

Then Dynamight orders and you take his order professionally, not gushing or fan-girling—and not breaking down into a fit of laughter despite so badly wanting to. He gives you his name, a gruff “Dynamight,“ and you bite your cheek.

You take your sharpie—you've chosen orange for obvious reasons—and your write what some may consider your final words. You're optimistic and consider it funny. “Dynamight 2,“ you mumble and the man snaps his head around with such a bizzare, pissed off look you can't stop the laugh. You tried, which turned it into a snort and the rage in his eyes exploded (heh) at the sound. You hid behind the empty coffee cup, pinching your lips together as laughter prodded at your chest.

“The hell did you just say? You think that shit is funny?!“

You did. Then you realized he probably thought you were making fun of his recent drop from number one hero to number two. He was bitter about that, it was no secret. You cleared your throat, back to looking at Dynamight with your professional facade. “Sorry sir, it's just that,“ you paused, sharing a look with Nice David.

“Spit it out,“ the inpatient hero demanded.

You looked back it him, clearing your throat again as a laugh threatened to ruin everything. You laughed when you here nervous and it didn't help that you always found Dynamight's reactions amusing. But you had to keep it together, for the other, no doubt, embarrassed Dynamights in the room. “Well, I'm sorry to say, but Dynamight and Dynamight 1 have already been taken.“

“What?“

It was so short, so curt, and so blunt you almost laughed again. You saw the other two Dynamights flinch and you wanted to scream. What were the odds the real deal would come into the little cafe the same time as two of his fans? Ah, if you were them you'd be too embarrassed to get your coffee. But, since you weren't them, well, you were there to enjoy the comedy gold.

Back to Dynamight 2. The man still awaited an explanation, far too confused to be annoyed at your lack of action. You looked at the two other Dynamights who's eyes were glued to the floor. You looked at your coworkers, all of which were hiding smiles by showing their backs to the giant pro—busying themselves with work. You looked at Kind Dave, both agreeing this was one of—nay, the BEST thing to ever happen in your lives. You looked at Dynamight 2, a man so lost and so confused, so unsure of his identity.

“If you would like, I can use a different name.“

“Huh?“ That snapped him back to the present. “Hell no, I'm Dynamight!“

“Yes.“

“So use Dynamight!“

“It's already been used—“ “Then swap them!“

“I can't. That would just confuse the team—“ “Then I should be Dynamight 1!“

“That's already been taken.“

“Just change it from Dynamight 2, dammit!“

“How about Dynamight 3?“

Oh if looks could kill. “Change. It,“ he order slowly, lowly, and most definitely sternly.

You coughed into your hand to hide the laugh. “Alright sir, I'll change it.“

You assumed he was too angry to listen to your new name for him which was his fault actually. He could most certainly not blame you for what was to come because it was he who left you unsupervised and you lived off of the pain of others.

There were no other customers so, you had the honor of handing out drinks. It was with great joy you took that job and you, again with great joy, read the name on the cup out loud. “Dynamight.“

You saw the hero twitch. His scowl deepened and you would've laughed to yourself if you weren't waiting for Dynamight to show up. You looked at the small group, raising a brow when no one came. “Guess he left,“ you mumbled.

One of your coworkers mumbled a response. “I'd leave too.“

You both shared a small snicker.

Then the next order came up. “Dynamight one?“ you asked, fully aware that person has also slipped out.

That meant two free coffees for the team.

Next was “Kind David,“ you announced proudly.

The man, the myth, the legend walked up to your counter and, as the name implied, kindly took the drink from you, giving you a kind nod of thanks. You both shared a look of amusement before he left, giving Dynamight 2 a small nod as he passed.

It was time. You held the large black coffee with a hint of cinnamon and a helping of whipped cream in your hand. Dynamight liked whipped cream, who knew? You didn't look at the cup to read the name. No. You looked straight into Dynamight's narrowed eyes. He began approaching the counter, glare hardening in suspicion. You announced him and he bristled with anger, lip lifting up to reveal his pink gums as he sneered down at you. Such a large man.

“Number two!“ you announced loudly, cheerfully, and joyously.

Boy. You had never seen a face curl up like that. He towered over you and he opened his mouth to give you a pice of his mind. But you beat him to it. You leaned forward, mischievous glint in your eye. “Don't worry,“ you whispered, “you'll always be number one here, hero.“

And it was supposed to be a funny jab, you said it with a teasing look. It was supposed to make him snatch the coffee outta your hands with a glare. But, well, you couldn't control his emotions.

He grabbed the coffee, taking it out of your hand normally. He glared, a comparatively calm glare. “Watch yourself, shorty.“

And you let your mouth drop in a dramatic scoff, about to give his back a piece of your mind, then you see it. You freeze, mouth gaping in actual shock. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears were the slightest bit red. You thought you were seeing things. You rubbed your eye. Oh boy, you were not seeing things.

It was supposed to be a funny jab. You said it with a teasing look. But hey, if Dynamight got all embarrassed, that was fine too. “We'll be rooting for you!“ you cheered, again, mildly teasing.

He scoffed but you saw the blush grow on the back of his neck. He sent you one glare over his shoulder and your coy grin grew at the pink dusting his upper cheek. Then he left and the cafe was silent before you and your coworkers burst into a series of obnoxious laughs and giggles. You were not giggling, by the way, you were on the floor DYING and wheezing in an ugly, hilarious sort way.

Dynamight was an interesting guy.

Hob is such a naughty little omega. Deep down, he's a very specific type of slut - the type that needs to be roughed up a little before he turns docile, the kind that wants to be cute and pushy until he's overpowered without much effort. A strict voice and firm rules are all well and good, but Hob often yearns for something a little more. He doesn't show it often because he's been raised by society to be good and obedient. However, he knows that it's not his true self.

Having sat on this for awhile, Hob's not sure whether or not to tell his alpha. Dream of the Endless is a gorgeous alpha with an amazing smell and a commanding presence, and Hob had been weak at the knees on the day they first met. He remembers blushing with pride when Dream had picked him as his mate - him, on the large side, rougher looking, not a traditional beauty - despite having his pick of the land. It had been lust and more at first sight, and for the first time in his life, he had found himself wanting to be good, obedient, and perfect enough for Dream.

Dream is from a highly venerated, very old family. One can tell just how respectable Dream is as an alpha, from the restraint he shows around Hob. He doesn't throw his weight around. He's never pushy with Hob, and in public, he certainly doesn't grope, scent or do anything of that nature, even though Hob has more than once fantasized about that prospect. He certainly has been very restrained, even in disciplining Hob (yes, Hob has tried), limiting himself to stern words and statements of expectations for better behaviour. He doesn't even spank Hob! Hob knows Dream does his utter best not to treat him like a baby-bearing little simpleton, and probably even expects him to eventually step up to run a household worthy of an Endless alpha. So Hob doesn't know how he'll handle if it his omega revealed that he wasn't who his alpha thought he was, and was, in fact, far less respectable.

Still, despite all these issues, Hob is very happy. He has a great routine at home. Mornings are for him, afternoons are for chores and the preparation of their dinner. In the evenings, Dream comes home, pounds Hob till he's sore, then forces him to totter off to the kitchen to serve their meal, still unstable at the knees and dripping with cum and slick. The casual show of dominance is almost enough for Hob's slutty hind brain. Dinner is Hob trying to eat as quietly as he can while Dream talks about his day in a smooth, deep voice, highly unconcerned about Hob's discomfort. The chairs have no cushions and his ass is usually sore, or else he's jittery and overstimulated from not being allowed to come. Evenings and nights are pretty much about cuddling, fucking, talking, and other forms of quality time. They love each other very much.

One day, Dream is a little late from work. Hob has developed a Pavlovian response to the seven-o-clock chime of the clock by now, and he just can't help moaning in impatience and getting wet. Where is Dream? He's practically rutting himself into his bed! When Dream finally arrives at 7.30pm, what does Hob do but run out of their apartment, down the stairs, and out the main entrance onto the open street, to jump up with joy and welcome him back.

Unfortunately, in all his horniness, Hob is only wearing his shirt. Passersby on their busy street will swear to seeing a naked man bursting out onto the street with his arms up, a big silly grin, and a wet, flushed dick. Dream gets out the back of his long black car and almost has an aneurysm at the sight.

Upstanding Dream of the iron restraint Endless is this close to losing his restraint. His eyes flare wide for a moment before he acts. He opens his big black coat, steps flush up to Hob, then wraps him up and manhandles him back into their apartment, steep steps and all.

Hob, startled by the sensation of being swooped upon and picked up by Dream, is starting, through his fog of arousal, to realize what he did wrong. Oh. Oh, no. Oh no no no. He, Hob Gadling, the omega of the Dream of the Endless, was seen out prancing in the streets in a highly unbecoming fashion. Surely Dream will punish him now.

Surely Dream will at least bend him over his lap and give his ass (which Hob has kept firm and perky precisely for this occasion) a flurry or two of hot, tight smacks. Surely Dream will lecture him harshly on the importance of omega modesty and self-respect, using proprietary and objectifying language on Hob's body, till Hob is crying in shame and self recrimination. He would surely state in no uncertain terms that Hob's ass and hole and dick and balls, as well as his tits, all belong to him, and on no occasion is he allowed to go around slutting them out for others, even if it's by accident. Dream would have to make clear threats to get the point into Hob's mush brain, maybe threatening to slut him out to random alphas on the street, who will treat him so harshly he runs crying back to Dream, if he really insists on behaving like that sort of street slut. Maybe paddling his backside red all the while to reinforce the point.

Surely.

Slutty omega Hob I love you so much <333

The thing about Dream is that he would love to go all traditional discipline on Hob’s ass (literally), but. BUT. Before they were mated, he solemnly promised himself that he would not allow his own base instincts to rule over him. He and Hob are civilised, intelligent people. There's no need for domestic discipline in this modern age - no matter what Dream’s deranged horny brain may think about it. Unfortunately, the sight of Hob half naked and on display to any passing stranger effectively wipes away Dream’s modern sensibilities... and he completely forgets his intention to treat his omega with cordiality and respect. Oops.

He comes out of his lust and possessive-addled haze some hours later and is horrified at what he has apparently done. Hob is laying across the kitchen table, face down. His arse is a bright, throbbing pink colour - there's a spatula laying on the table too, which clearly made the marks on Hob’s body. The kitchen floor is wet, puddled with slick and cum and probably Hob’s tears. Dream is horrified. His cock is still buried deep inside Hob’s sloppy hole, and he's still actually thrusting into his omega as he stands there and stares.

At that moment Hob turns his head to look at Dream. His beautiful brown eyes are overflowing with tears. Dream is already wondering how he can ever make this up to his poor omega - will Hob leave him? Possibly. He surely won't stand for such treatment.

"Thank you." Hob croaks instead. "This is just what I wanted. If you keep on like this, I promise that I'll be such a good boy."

Dream cums on the spot, and Hob never goes a day without a spanking ever again <3

The fanfic writing community really isn't a nice place to be anymore. Among other problems one thing stands out to me: there are so many posts in writing groups on Tumblr etc about minor things people hate about other people's fics (and I really am talking about minor things here, like using too few paragraph breaks or having a few grammar mistakes because they aren't native speakers, for example) and it's just super discouraging for an insecure writer who sees these comments and takes them to heart. I get that some formatting choices aren't to everyone's liking, but why do people have to get mean about it?

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chishiya in his hoodie psychologically scaring the fuck outta a poor stupid fool in a corner the minute a game begins

Camelot is hit with an amnesia spell to forget their prince. The sorcerer's goal was to make sure Camelot doesn't have an heir.

So, Arthur wakes up, one day, with no servants serving him ane being treated like a thief who invaded the castle.

Not even Morgana, Gwen, or Merlin recognise him and Merlin is apparently not even a servant anymore. Just a full time physician's apprentice.

Arthur: Merlin, I know you don't remember me. No one does, but I'm Prince Arthur!

Merlin: *suspicious* Camelot doesn't have a prince

Arthur: You have to believe me!!! I don't know what kind of spell would do this, but you have to help me!!! Well, technically, I need Gaius help, but you're my best friend and I can't do this without you!

Merlin: aha. I'm not saying I believe you, but I wouldn't mind helping you overthrow the King

Arthur: No, that's not what I- ... What?

Merlin: is that not what this is about? You wanting to be prince? I'll help you if you want. You can't be as bad as Uther.

Arthur: excuse me?

Merlin: you can't be telling me you like Uther. You just told me you want me to find a spell to make you prince.

Arthur: no! I wouldn't go that far- what would you even know about magic?

Merlin: *grabs Arthur by the chin to glare at him threateningly* Nothing *viciously* Obviously. And if I did, you'd be dead if you learned of it

Arthur: *actually intimidated* I-

Merlin: *turning away* I'll do the dirtywork for you, Arthur, was it? In exchange, I need you to lift the ban on magic

Arthur: you can't seriously ask me that -

Merlin: I'm not asking. That's my condition.

Arthur: ... What on earth is going on?

There were a few variants I didn't include so if it's not on this list let me know.

Chill man

best part of having a broken leg? i run out of socks half as fast.

it’s the day again ♥️