#Dreamling fic ideas

[thebitchesterbrothers]

What if Roderick Burgess wasn’t able to imprison Dream and instead kidnapped that mysterious man people in certain circles started talking about in hope of figuring out how to summon the lord of dreams?

Hob Gadling, the soldier who always seemed to know a bit too much about medieval history and who inexplicably survived fatal battle wounds. Who never even bat an eye when listening to stories of the occult or magic but started to rant when someone praised Shakespeares work. Who looked suspiciously like one of the men from an age old sketch talking in a tavern…every hundred years.

Hob Gadling, the king’s consort of the Dreaming.

Imagine the blinding fury of Dream when Roderick Burgess takes his husband away from him.

#I would read 500000 fucking words of this #I’m a sucker for protective dream and unbothered Hob #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #dreamling fic ideas

[densewentz]

Take Your Kid to Work Day (with Dream's decidedly more alarming version of an artist rendering their kid's drawing)

#dreamling #alternate title: #Hob Gadling's Guide to Being a Supportive Dad Despite the Horrors #hob gadling #dream of the endless #morpheus #matthew the raven #dream x hob #the sandman netflix #the sandman #the sandman fanart #kid fic #my art #dream isnt wearing his robes because im amused by the idea of the anthropomorphized human unconscious being just some Guy in jeans and a t #sometimes love is a puppy-eyed princeling and his fucked up frog friend #hobs going to lilo and stitch it and just tell everyone shes a dog #an older kian this time #as a treat #long post

[linddzz]

Latest idea floating around in my head: a twist on the Hob saving Morpheus from the time-out ball, except that's where they first met each other.

Hob's still immortal, it's just that Death was the one who came and gave him the deal of meeting every 100 years

(is this also bc I'd love Death being Hob's centennial buddy? Her being way less reserved and straight up telling him who she is. Her delight at his delighting over life. The rage in him when Eleanor and Robyn die. Death took them and she wouldn't even say anything to him when she did it. Also I'd like to see him just immediately choke and squirm like a bastard as soon as he starts explaining his new shipping business to her in 1789. Yes and hell yes gimme Hobsie and Death as bros.)

So Hob is trying out new stuff again. He's never tried out being a magus and gets himself in as a member of Burgess' order and eventually an acolyte.

And then he's introduced to the "devil" that Burgess keeps in the dungeon. He's to help study up on strengthening the wards around the sphere and all that. And boy is he deeply, super uncomfortable with the sight of this frail man trapped in a cage.

("Don't let his pretty face fool you." Burgess will tell him, "the thing is a demon who would destroy us all if given half a chance."

To be fair, Morpheus does not help his case at all and his expression clearly says "you fuckin bet I will")

And Hob is Hob. So while he's working on studying up on wards (which so happens to involve a lot of careful, detailed study of the wards around the sphere) he's chatting at the thing in it. He complains about the boss, talks about the War, tells the demon about his day while the demon either glares at him or makes a hilariously big show of not paying attention. Sometimes Hob straight up shirks work (with a winking "you won't tell the boss right?") And just reads books.

And he nearly shrieks in surprise when he's reading some new novel called The Hobbit out loud and looks up to find the demon watching and obviously interested. So of course Hob is gonna keep reading him stories and keep studying those binding spells super closely.

And ok that's where I gotta admit the story doesn't have a solid conclusion in my head yet (besides obviously Hob is gonna bust Dream out and then get kissed a LOT) but I do have one bit where Morpheus first talks to him and of course it's just cryptic weird shit. Because Morpheus has started watching this shit-wizard who won't shut the fuck up back and can tell that something is OFF about him.

So just imagine Hob is yammering away about how he thinks the masters kid and the gardener have something going on, and he nearly shits himself when the "demon" presses a hand against the glass and says

"Death has touched you. I see it now. My siblings marks upon you. Is that what you are here for? To report to them? To let them see how low their family has come? So they do know what has come of me then, and they have sent you to chatter away and truly make it clear that they will do nothing."

Hob's just like. "WHAT?? SIBLINGS?! You TALK??! Hang on you know Death???!" But Morpheus already is back to curling in on himself in a furious pissy sulk

#dreamling #fic cooking #i imagine after Dreams outburst theres a lot more talking going on #idk if i have this fleshed out enough to fully write i just liked the idea of Hob reading Tolkien to the thing in the ball #and Morpheus being wooed with stories #the tension is ruined by me knowing that all it took was smearing the circle kdjfkd #maybe Hob purposely falls asleep to let Morpheus get out via his dreams

[five-and-dimes]

Here’s a headcanon I don’t know what to do with:

Once they get together, at the end of nights when Dream visits, Hob will take his hand and say, “Stay?” and Dream without fail will respond, “Yes.”

Now here’s the thing about this little routine. At no point is a full sentence spoken out loud.

So from Hob’s point of view, every night he is asking “Will you please stay?” and Dream is saying “Yes I will stay because you asked me to.” But from Dream’s point of view, Hob is asking “Do you want to stay?” and Dream is saying “Yes, please allow me to stay.”

Both think the other one is doing them a favor. Both think they are the one making a request and the other is the one fulfilling it. They’re both carrying around gratitude towards the other for being kind enough to “indulge” them and spend extra time together.

I don’t know how they would ever find out about this strange ongoing miscommunication or what the reaction would be. I just think it sounds like something that would happen to them. They're both emotionally compromised idiots.

#Hob: Dream is so nice to stay longer when I ask him to even though he's so busy #Dream: Hob is so kind to allow me to stay in his presence longer even though *gestures at all of himself* #the sandman #dreamling #halfbaked headcanons #finally given up on putting this in one of my own fics I just can't find anywhere it fits or makes sense to come up #but if anyone has any ideas to expand on it by all means share with meeee

[drjholtzmann]

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

------------

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough. 

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.” 

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look. 

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. 

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end. 

“So… it is related?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette. 

“Show me?” 

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned. 

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?” 

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know. 

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.” 

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly. 

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.” 

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.” 

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.” 

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.” 

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile. 

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

#sandman #dreamling #dead boy detectives #sandman fanfic #my fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #charles and edwin get a cameo lets say #im so excited for the show yall have no idea

[avelera]

Ok so I think I need to write a follow-up fic for “my love is thine to teach” where Hob’s university offers some sensitivity training for how to support neurodivergent students and Hob gamely signs up for it because he sure as hell knows by now that there’s a lot of things about the world he could stand to educate himself on

And at some point during the seminar a little lightbulb goes on over his head when they talk about how to support autism spectrum students because that sure as hell sounds a lot like Dream

(In another world, Hob doesn’t become a teacher and the 1989 meeting happens as planned and Hob continues his life as he always has and Dream just continues to mystify him.)

Now, it could just be that Dream is eldritch, right? That’s why he’s a bit odd sometimes…. Right?

(And then Hob meets Death and is like ooooh, it’s not because he’s Endless, Dream is just Like That.)

And anyway, just for the hell of it, Hob decides to employ some of those strategies for how to help neurodivergent students open up and feel comfortable next time Dream comes around.

And it fucking works.

Suddenly, Dream is talking about crafting dreams and nightmares, as engaged as Hob has ever seen him. Suddenly it clicks in Hob’s head why pressing Dream on things like being lonely might have been hurtful to Dream, who saw it as a criticism on a painful subject for him because he struggles to form friendships.

Suddenly Hob (who is probably ADHD the seminar was useful all around, who would have guessed) as a teacher is realizing things he never in that other world would have realized about how to be a better friend to his stranger because the modern world is awesome and finally gave him the tools to help recognize how to do so.

#dreamling #fic idea #I’d need to do more research for this one #as I have adhd but not autism and I’d want it to be a sensitive piece #but it could make for a fluffy one shot

[lemoneyshipz]

They are both stupid AU fic Idea

So we know Hob doesn't die so what if death literally doesn't come for him? And whenever Hob "dies" he isn't actually dead but unconscious or in coma so he ends up in the Dreaming instead.

At first both of them are surprised to find each other and Dream allows him to stay until he’s waking body recovers and stays to comfort him every time.

But being the cryptic asshole that he is he never bothered to tell Hob his name, and Hob as a result assumed Dream is Death because he just shows up in this realm every-time he “dies”, so this place must be afterlife.

And as they hangout more and more and of course starts to fall for each other. And finally on their 1889 meeting Hob tells Dream he is contemplating on dying, only contemplating because there is still so much to live for, but he might be in love with Death and wants to be with them.

And of course Dream does not take this well. He is like WTF AFTER ALL THAT WE HAD WHY WHOULD YOU? HOW COULD YOU ABANDON ME AND GIVE YOURSELF TO MY ELDER SISTER I WILL NOT FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS and hob is confused asf he is like wait a sec you’re not death? of FUCK i messed up but Dream has already stormed out of the door.

Death shows up a moment later infront of Hob and he panics a bit. But she reassures him that she is only here bc “MY brother called me for the first time in years and just started yelling at me, and then was willing to owe me a boon to try to talk you out of dying which was a first time ever. And the whole thing is weird because if you actually wanted to die i would know so I’m just here to check of you since he really likes you. “ and they managed to clear up the misunderstanding but Death doesn't tell hob who Dream is bc "That’s for him to tell you."

Hob plans to confess his feelings the next time he "dies" (in WW2 most likely) but when he did he finds the Dreaming decaying so he immediately knows something is wrong and set on to search for Dream.

He finds Lucienne and she told him he is at the waking world so that narrows it down a bit.

When he finally finds Dream and when Dream finally sees hob again he is like “YOU’RE ALIVE?!”

Hob very much resists an eye-roll and explains everything to Dream and that’s how they got their happily ever after.

in conclusion miscommunication at it’s peak and they’re both stupid but especially Dream

#dreamling #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus #sandman #hob gadling #fic ideas #lemoneyshipz

[cuubism]

some kind of sheltered rich boy dream / feral child hob high school/college au that stuck itself in my brain and won't leave

...

"Did you truly spend your childhood here?"

Hob paused where he was picking up more stones, presumably to chuck them at passing trees, cocking his head at Dream. "D'you mean living in the woods, like a feral animal? I thought we went over that."

Dream sighed. "I meant playing in the woods."

Hob lurched upright again to catch up with where Dream was still walking on the path and, true to Dream's suppositions, hurled one of his scavenged stones off into the underbrush. It made a satisfying swish-thwack sound off in the distance. "Why's that so shocking to you? Kids love mud and frogs and stuff."

"You still love mud and frogs and 'stuff.'"

"Don't you?"

Dream looked up at the tree cover, and the orange rays of sunset filtering through the branches. He had never been to this part of the forest before. It was far enough away from any surrounding towns to still be dense and untamed, the underbrush thick and tangled, the path winding and poorly tended.

Not that Dream had been to any part of the forest much at all, not even the parts closer to home.

"I suppose. I can't say I have much experience with either."

Hob kicked aside some sticks that were blocking the path. He was always so active, so expressive. Dream was so used to clasping his hands that he didn't know what to do with them when no one was watching. "So what'd you do, then? Stay in the house all the time?"

"We have a garden," Dream told him. A very beautiful, very perfect garden. "It's very well tended. I doubt mother would tolerate a frog."

"Should do," said Hob, sadly. "They're brilliant. So you've never been just out in the wild at all?"

"I have not run unattended through the forest like a squirrel, no."

"Shame," said Hob, and then grabbed his hand. "No time like the present, then!"

And he took off down the path, dragging Dream along behind him. Hob was much faster than him, and certainly fitter too, and Dream nearly tripped and fell several times trying to keep up, but didn't let go of Hob's hand. His nice school loafers skidded on the wet leaves. His tie flapped along over his shoulder. Dream could not remember the last time he had been so out of breath, the last time his heart had beaten in his chest like so.

"Shit!" Hob yelled, and skidded to a stop.

Dream was not so fast, and quickly learned what had brought such an abrupt end to Hob's run. The path veered off sharply to the right above a steep embankment, and Dream's momentum carried him right over the edge, dragging Hob with him.

The next few moments were a tumble of dirt and leaves and flashes of sky, Hob's laughter, Dream's very unbecoming shriek. Then a splash, as they landed in the shallow brook at the bottom of the embankment.

Hob was still laughing as Dream pushed himself upright, took stock of himself. His trousers and the back of his blazer were drenched and mud-soaked, certainly ruined; his socks sloshed in his shoes; his tie was twisted and mangled around his neck. Hob looked no better, wet and muddy and with leaves stuck in his hair. Only on Hob, there was a natural ease to it, a sense that he would pick himself up with a grin and go on like that. Dream was certain he himself looked merely disheveled and ridiculous.

"You've discovered mud, good for you," Hob said, grinning at him. How could he still look so bright, with mud smeared over his forehead? "And there's a beetle in your hair."

Dream found it and plucked it out, moved to toss it away or perhaps to crush it, as he might have done at home -- but paused. Held it in his palm instead. Had he ever looked at them before? Its fine, intricate legs were really quite remarkable. Its shell iridescent and changing in the light. Its antennae waved at him.

He put it down on the side of the brook, and when he looked back, found Hob gazing at him with an expression he could only interpret as fond.

"Beetles look good on you," he said, and this brought Dream back from the warm place he had started to slip to, there in the glow of Hob's attention, and to reality again.

"Mother will be furious," he said quietly, and hated himself for the smallness of his voice. Dream had never before wished to be anyone other than himself, even when that self chafed and bled against its surroundings. But since meeting Hob, he'd begun to wish he could be in the world the way Hob was -- unapologetic, exuberant, pushing back.

At first, Hob just looked fondly exasperated, even frustrated, as he'd been on occasion, by Dream's unwillingness to ever break a rule. But he must have caught something in Dream's tone that he hadn't before, for he shifted closer, still in the water and getting even more soaked, expression creasing in concern.

"Hey." He laid a tentative hand on Dream's arm. "It'll be alright, yeah? It's just some clothes, in the end. I bet the dry cleaner's can even get it out."

Dream shook his head. It was not about the clothes. Nothing so reasonable as waste or expense would anger his mother. No, she could buy a new uniform easily enough, but how dare one of her children be seen with a hair out of place, how dare Dream put a foot wrong. Stumble? Fall? As if this weren't bad enough, Dream had also lied about where he was going, because there was no way he would have been allowed out of the house otherwise, and this was already a grave offense, and now there was proof.

It was always very unwise to anger either of Dream's parents.

But no matter what was waiting to come down upon his head, he was not going to cry. It was always unwise to cry. And he did not want Hob to think him even more pathetic than he doubtless already thought Dream was.

Dream steeled himself, clenching his hands in the river bottom for a long moment. The cold slip of the mud, the crunch of the rocks was surprisingly soothing. Then let go, and let the river water wash the dirt away. "You are right, of course. Only. Mud."

"Only that," Hob agreed, smiling at him again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He would have lovely wrinkles there when he was older, Dream thought. Hob took his hand, and looked at his palm, perfectly smooth and clean again after the water had washed over it. "At least you weren't hurt in that tumble, yeah? That's what's most important."

For the moment, Dream let home wash away from him with the river water, and focused on his hand in Hob's. It felt like peace. "What's most important," he echoed. "Yes."

#random fic ideas stop implanting in my head challenge #i have too many wips already #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing

[wolfgirl-valentine]

My final piece for @moorishflower gorgeous story "Us and the moon!!!! I'm sure you all would love it as much as I did 🙏🏼✨ It was an honor and a delight to paint this scenes. This was my first big bang and it was a lot of fun(and anxiety sjsjsj) thanks to everyone involved in this amazing experience, specially to Moorishflower for their wonderful narrative that was a great inspiration 🙏🏼✨

This one's quote is going to be under a cut, because it's the final part and doesn't feel right to be read for the first time this way 😅

"Just us, Dream echoes, quietly delighted, and then takes off running into the dreaming night with Hob yipping at his heels."

"And in London, in the Waking, in a cosy flat miles and centuries away from a shadowed clearing where a seven year-old boy made a deal he did not understand with a little god that he would eventually outlive, two wolves – one dark as night, one burnished bronze and tawny-gold as dawn – lie curled nose-tip to tail-tip in a nest of blankets. Fast asleep, and dreaming of the moon."

#centennial husbands big bang #centennial husbands big bang 2024 #dreamling #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob gadling #dream of the endless #morpheus #art inspired by fic #My art #My phone camera keep fucking the colors 😔 #I had 6 ideas for this beautiful story hopefully I'll make the other at a later date but I can't make promises #English is not my first lenguaje

[myidlehand]

I wanna write a fic where Dream, confused and weak from his time in isolation accidentally didn't go back to the Dreaming but ended up in Hob's appartement.

He didn't mean too but his powers are weak and crossing from the Waking to the Dreaming was too much so his unconscious mind took him to the next best place that was easier to reach.

So in the middle of the night Hob wakes up to a loud noise and find his Stranger naked, pale as death, thin like he's starving and eyes wild with fear. Dream, who hasn't been touch in over a century, completely freaks out when Hob touches his shoulder.

The rest of the fic would be Hob trying to take care of Dream, who's completely silent and freaked out. Hob doesn't really know what to do at first so for the next few days he just offer him little things. First a blanket and then food and water. He doesn't really know if his Stranger needs it but he looks like he's dying of starvation. Everyday he talks to Dream gently, trying to make the man he hasn't seen in over a hundred years talk to him. It takes times for Dream to not flinch every time Hob is near or making a loud sound but eventually he settles enough. Hob spends hours with him just keeping him company, reading out loud, telling him about his days, his life since 1889, until Dream feels better and better. Dream never speaks to Hob but Hob speaks a lot. It doesn't take long for Hob to understand Dream is okay with muffle sounds but isn't used to hearing anything too loud anymore (my headcannon is that Dream mostly was hearing his own heartbeat and breathing in the fishbowl, if he has a heartbeat, and that everything else was muffled which should render any human absolutely crazy). So Hob speaks very very gently. They kind of get into a routine for the next few days/weeks.

One day Hob wakes up and Dream his gone. There's just a note that says "Thank you Hob Gadling". Hob is heartbroken that his Stranger is gone again but happy to know Dream is well enough now.

Then the rest of the season happens up to episode 6 and they meet up again just like the end of the episode.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob gadling #dream x hob #morpheus x hob #dreamling #free fic idea for those who want to use it

[thebitchesterbrothers]

Dream of the Endless is the prince of a small but wealthy and beautiful country. He’s not the oldest child so the crown will go to his oldest sister Death when his parents are going to die or abdicate one day.

He’s not important enough to rule one day but still too known to live an ordinary life. He grew up sheltered in a golden cage with certain expectations from his parents to live by. So he’s not surprised when one day his parents invite possible suitors for a lucrative wedding.

From Dreams perspective they leave him no choice but to flee from his own birthday party where he’s supposed to be sold off to the highest bidder.

And while his furious parents are busy firing his bodyguards Dream wanders through parts of the capital he’s never seen before.

He’s so high on the feeling of finally feeling free and unobserved for the first time in his entire life that he doesn’t pay close attention to his surroundings when he turns the corner.

Stumbling right into the arms of Hob Gadling.

Hob, who had spent the last ten years traveling and living abroad before returning home to finally settle down, maybe start a family of his own.

Hob, who never really kept track of the drama and scandals of the royal family.

Who doesn’t know that the beautiful - but slightly socially awkward and uptight - man in his arms is the most desired bachelor of his native country. And his prince.

But what he knows is that love at first sight most definitely exists because there’s no way in hell he won’t marry this dream of a man.

Needless to say that Dream spends the next week in Hobs tiny and barely renovated flat above the Inn Hob had recently bought. Half of that time he spends in Hobs embrace, the other half in his lap. Dream refuses to let his new love out of sight, clings to him, afraid Hob might find out about his family heritage and will try to get rid of him, trying not to get in trouble for hiding - and deflowering - the prince.

But eventually, on the eighth day Dream confesses he’s the prince everyone is so desperately looking for. The prince who’s supposed to be married off to a proper and, most importantly, rich spouse.

So on the ninth day Hob and Dream say yes to each other in an old chapel by the river, the only witnesses the priest and a tiny black cat who Dream takes home afterwards.

On the tenth day the royal family finds them and Hob finds out what he’s got himself into.

But looking at his gorgeous husband next to him he decides it’s all worth it if he gets to live the rest of his life side by side with him.

#dreamling #dreamling fanfic #Dreamling fic ideas #hob gadling #dream of the endless #morpheus #hob x dream #morpheus x hob #the sandman #prince!au #prince!dream #commoner!hob #the sandman Netflix #please excuse any grammar mistakes #english isn’t my first language

[adventures-in-a-world-of-fiction]

Dreamling and Desire Ficlet Idea

I'm picturing Desire deciding to have a bit of fun playing with the humans, setting up at a summer fete type event like a fortune teller with a sign promising, "I can tell you how to woo the one you most desire."

Hob has gone along to this thing with some friends and they decide to try out the fortune teller thing for a bit of a laugh.

One of the friends goes first and Desire tells them that the object of their desire secretly loves old, cheesy romance films and that if they try to win them by using an idea from [insert classic romcon here] and invite them to a movie night, they will be open to love.

The friends have a bit of a smile because this is generic and the sort of advice they might have said about anyone, so another friend goes next. This person is already in a committed relationship and thinks they can catch Desire out. Desire looks into their eyes and says, "On your first date, you ate chocolate cake together under the stars in an outdoor cafe. If you make them chocolate cake and eat it under the stars together, they will remember how it felt when they first fell in love with you and it will strengthen the desire that's already there."

And now the friends are freaking out slightly because that was super specific and how did they know all that?

But then it's Hob's turn. Desire takes one look at Hob and is just like, "Him?! He's the one you desire most? Seriously?"

#dreamling #fic ideas #the sandman

[magnusbae]

I mean, I can't NOT prompt "Emotions are a luxury I don't have time for." with Dreamling 👀

🤘 five-and-dimes

OKAY ADMITTEDLY it does fit Dreamling very well doesn't it—? I was going to give half an hour per piece and accidently digressed way too much with this one..... whoops...? Thank you for the prompt dear 🥰💖

Dreamling || 1,174w || lowkey hurt/comfort but with ~hope

▾▾▾

“Don’t you feel anythi— fuck.” Hob stops, forcing the words back down with a thick swallow. He cannot afford himself to speak in anger, no matter how badly it burns in his veins, no matter how scourged by Dream’s aloofness he is. It doesn’t matter that he should have the right for anger. Dream is simply not a being you could, or should, be angry with if you hope to keep him in your life.

Angry or not, justified or not. Hob wants him in his life, very much.

“Dream, listen.” Hob starts, running a hand over his own face, nails scratching uncomfortably over the side of his cheek. “I get it, okay.” He really doesn’t but this is not the point “but seriously, you do have feelings, I know that you have…” his voice wavers and he gestures at the space between them, unable to voice it lest Dream would flee again. “Please.” his voice strains with the burden of it all. Wanting so much, needing so much—being forbidden from even voicing it, let alone having it.

"Emotions are a luxury I don't have time for.” Dream’s voice is deep, booming, as aloof as it could possibly get. He sounds like he’s reading a ready-made script, like he’s following the lines long since prepared.

Hob recoils, physically takes a step back, wants a distance between himself and Dream’s rejection. He should have expected it, in fact, he assumed he might get worse and yet— “Bulshit.” The short silence that follows is pregnant with tension, both momentarily silenced by Hob’s boldness. Hob is as surprised by it as Dream, apparently is.

Dream comes around first, eyebrows knotting, storms cracking in the depths of his eyes. His lips thin, the corners tug down and then he opens his mouth to deliver what Hob is sure would be either a really bad reprimand or his final words to him.

He cannot have it. If only for the simple fact that he doesn’t only want Dream in his life, but factually needs him. He doesn’t know what’s life would be worth without knowing that in the end of every story there will be Dream to share it with, a confidant, a keeper of his journey.

“I think that you’re afraid—” the words rush out without a thought, he steps forward, hurrying to finish before this would blow out of proportion “—because I know that I am petrified.” The words burn true on his tongue, there’s a dull ache in his chest, his lungs feel too full and empty of air. “I am horrified that you might leave, I am terrified that you might not lo— accept this, I am…” he swallows, his throat is closing with the emotion of it all. He cannot stop, not now that he had finally started. “I get it Dream, I know that you are, that we are… different but…. “ His hand falls by his side, no amount of gesturing would express what he feels.

He runs out of words. He was so certain he had them all when this conversation started, now he can hardly even remember what brought it about. He didn’t prepare for it as well as he thought, he doesn’t know how to word it, how to phrase it in a way that would convince Dream to give this, them, a chance. Damn.

His chin drops and he stares at the ground, burning disappointment makes his hand tremor. He closes his fist.

He is no poet, no storyteller, no writer. He is no Dream to pick and choose the right words. He’s only a man. Only a man who loves a being beyond his comprehension, very, very much.

Fuck, fuck it all. Fuck. He is about to lose him, isn’t he?

The pain in his gut is a twisting thing, like a knife slicing through the guts. Shitty death, he’d know. He dares to glance up when Dream doesn’t speak, half expecting to see him gone. Instead, there’s something softer in Dream’s eyes when he meets them. For the first time, Hob’s attention is drawn to the unnatural void in those eyes, the glint of distant stats. This is…

“Am I…” his mind struggles through the spell of dizziness, his consciousness readjusting its grasp of the surroundings. The shadows are longer, the shapes are bent a little too far, the colors are not quite right.

“I am dreaming.” He understands when he finally sees the landscape for what it is, Dream, for who he is. “Oh shit.” His cheeks color red, he is aware of the incredibly uncomfortable material of the shirt he used to wear some few hundreds years ago.

“I yanked you into my dream, haven’t I.” This is, even more than before, not how he had hoped to confess. Not even close.

“Hob,” Dream’s voice bleeds to every fiber of the dream-scape, infusing it with power, making it feel tangible, more clear, in focus. “You dream very loudly.” There’s an odd note to his voice, if Hob was to attempt and pinpoint it, he’d have to admit it sounds like astonishment.

“Sorry,” he answers, abashed. “I, uh, suppose you can’t just…” he gestures at his own head with a motion that resembles wiping chalk off of a board. “Maybe…?” he adds, hopefully.

He doesn’t regrets his feelings. He would, though, like to at least be awake when Dream rejects him, It feels only proper.

The idea of simply not raising it up at all is one that had crossed his mind frequently, and yet he knows that sooner or later he’d slip again, that he wouldn’t be able to to continue pretending like this isn’t an integral part of who he is, like this isn’t something that he feels.

Sooner or later, he’d tell Dream of The Endless that he is helplessly, hopelessly, truly and deeply— in lov…

A finger again his lips distracts him from his thoughts. “Very loudly.” Dream scolds quietly, wistfully. He sighs then, the weight of it almost buckles Hob’s knees. Dream seems to ready himself, like he is expecting a great deal of suffering and is braving himself for it. He looks exhausted. Worn down. Won over.

Hob immediately dislikes that look, it speaks too much of Dream’s past. Too much of what had made Dream as closed off as he is. Too much of what hurt him so badly. Hob wants him to be…

“Very well, Hob Gadling.” Dream’s words distract Hob from his thoughts again “We shall speak of it further in the waking world, according to your wishes.” Dream looks away into the distance, his finger lingering on Hob’s lower lip, it’s cool. “I must go now, so long.”

He does not sat farewell. Hob’s mind centers around it. Between one eye blink and another, Dream is gone, golden sand scattering behind.

“What…?” Hob’s mind is already fuzzing into an incoherent haze of shapes and shadows, only distantly concerned with what just transpired.

Only vaguely he wonders if he should feel loss, or…not?

#Listen I had no idea what I was going for as I started and didn't for the entire time. BUT STILL. #My only rule for tonight's write-in is to go along with anything regardless of my personal feelings about the matter XD #So here we are~ I hope you like it!! 💖💖💖 #Dreamling #Dreamling fic #The sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream #hob #buns.w #buns.all #msg #I absolutely should stick to 200-300 words and no rewrites moving on though esgterhbrtdthrt #five-and-dimes

[five-and-dimes]

Sleeping Beauty-esque au where Dream wants to Stop Living but doesn’t want to go through making someone be his replacement (being Dream of the Endless is so hard, how cruel would it be to subject that role to someone else?) and it occurs to him that he is the Dreaming and the Dreaming is him so what if he just… took one of those out of the equation? As long as there is a Dreaming then technically there is a Dream even if he’s not human-shaped anymore and so one day he goes into one of the gardens and he lays down and closes his eyes and lets Dream the Person sink into Dream the Place. 

Matthew comes looking for him and gets lost because his magic-raven-senses, which are supposed to always know where Dream is, are telling him he’s everywhere?? And finally he stumbles upon a body, still breathing but with moss and ivy and briars slowly growing around him, a living body being reclaimed by nature and Matther naturally freaks the fuck out, clawing at the plants and pecking at Dream’s hands and pulling his hair to try to wake him but all it does is make the ivy grow faster and he’s pushed back by a gust of wind that feels like a sigh. 

Cursing as loud as a raven is capable of, he books it back to Lucienne, and it takes a few minutes for her to make sense of his panicked cawing but then she is dropping the book in her hands and rushing to call anyone she can think of, which includes both the rest of the Endless and also one particular immortal human because that’s how desperate she feels. 

And then it’s a line of people taking turns sitting next to Dream the Body, gently pushing back the greenery around him, some of them sobbing when they see how the plants are starting to grow through him, and the body is still breathing but it’s decomposing, sinking deeper into the landscape, and it’s hard to tell but they think Fiddler’s Green is crying, pleading with the Dreaming itself to walk on two legs again. 

I think eventually Hob, who has been coming and speaking every night in his sleep, trying to bribe and barter and goad his friend to come back to them, finally snaps when he comes and sees Dream’s body completely covered by moss and vines, looking for all the world like just an uneven patch of field, and he thrusts his hands into the earth and physically tears Dream out, standing and dragging him away from the plants that reach to take him back, and he starts sobbing and screaming about how Dream isn’t getting rid of him that easily, Hob is immortal by stubbornness alone, if Dream thinks he won’t fall in love with a goddamn patch of grass he’s got another thing coming, he wants Dream to walk with him and live with him, but if he has to marry Dream the Place then that’s what he’ll do, he will make the realm itself his husband and spend eternity nurturing it, give whole new meaning to the term “husbandry”. And the ivy is crawling up Dream’s body, trying to pull him out of Hob’s arms, but before it can cover Dream’s face Hob is kissing him for all he’s worth. 

And then the ivy slows, and the wind seems to shudder, and the land is still but Hob thinks he feels a separating within it, like the red sea parting beneath a blessed hand, and it takes a moment, because so much of Dream has spread like roots throughout the Dreaming and it’s hard in so many different ways to pull it all back into himself, but Hob holds him through it, peppering his face with kisses as the earth falls away from his withered body and being a person again hurts, but Hob’s love soothes it like a balm. 

And then he awakens, opening his eyes for the first time in months, cradled in Hob’s arms, with soft memories of everyone who had tried to bring him back because they wanted him back, and he is still so tired, but. But maybe, he thinks, being awake, being here, is not so bad if there is someone to hold him like this.

Hob kisses him again.

#what is this #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #my writing #I have no idea why I did this #just #thinking about Dream and the Dreaming and how being a landscape has GOT to be easier than being a person #what am I doing with my life #I have actual fics to work on #yeet #Do I want to write a full fic of this? #vote now on your phones

[lostelfwriting]

Hob: "So, uh, I met one of yours today." Dream: "One of mine?" *frowns* Hob: "Well, I guess three of yours?" Dream: "Three of my siblings?!" *confusion intensifies* Hob: "No, I don't think they were your siblings… Like, your grandma, your ma, and your younger sister? Three ladies; gave me a quest." Dream: *faints* Hob: "Not family, then." Hob: "..." Hob: "Three evil exes?"

#dreamling #the sandman #crack #I need someone to use this in a fic #Dream would absolutely faint at the mere idea of Hob being confronted by the Kindly Ones #and Hob would totally be clueless

[avelera]

A twist on the 1589 meeting, but what if Hob had acted fast when he spotted Dream’s interest in Shaxberd and instead of just getting jealous, he’d invited Will and Marlowe to their table as well?

Shaxberd is only barely getting started as a playwright. Hob and Marlowe seem acquainted. They might well have accepted the invitation to all dine together. It would be a natural thing to do at a tavern after all.

Because now I’m imagining the look on Dream’s face when this starving playwright he’s trying to cruise lights up at the prospect of the banquet laid out in front of Hob thus robbing Dream of his convenient escape. And from Shaxberd’s point of view, this is Hob’s guest, right? Hob is clearly a man of some importance and it would be rude to drag his guest away to talk business. Especially if it means a free meal of such quality.

So anyway, this is how Dream got stuck at a four hour long dinner with Hob, Kit Marlowe, and Will Shaxberd over some rather excellent mortal food and a much better time than he ever expected to have and frankly being more than a little pissed off about it and how Death might have been right that hanging out with humans can be fun.

It’s also the story about how Hob got 10x more answers than he ever got before out of his stranger by dint of the longer time together and how awkward it would be for Dream not to answer some of them with two other people present ruining the mystery of it all. It’s also how Hob figured out that Dream likes talking about art and so Hob was able to switch gears in time to actually have a conversation with Dream that didn’t make it look like Dream he would rather gouge his eyes out than listen to another word. Hob might not be the artistic sort but he’s not totally incapable of analyzing a play about a man making a supernatural bargain with the devil, and everyone at the table loved Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus.

And it’s the story of how Marlowe figured out in .2 seconds that an otherworldly creature was at the table with them and subtly helping out Hob direct his questions for best possible effect, and how both Marlowe and Shaxberd got a rich patron out of it.

#dreamling #fic prompt #1589 #I’m already writing a 1589 fic of a different stripe but this idea tickled me #free to a good home