#bang dream fanfiction

[2jihiir0]

Sea of Waking Dreams by @azrielgreen

read it on ao3!

Steddie BigBang (Team 130)

It was a lovely experience to create art for this project and work alongside the talented and wonderful @azrielgreen !!! 🥰 We couldn't be happier with the final result !! Chapter 2 comes out next week with another illustration.

This story will grip you from the very first sentence and take you on a haunting and passionate journey 🖤✨🌙

Eddie Munson knows Steve Harrington better than anyone. He knows his husband inside and out. They've been together for eleven years, married for eight. Their relationship is everything, it's their world. Their life is built around love, trust and the rules. The rules keep them alive, keep Steve alive. Because their work is dangerous, dark and terrifying. Steve is a powerful psychic medium and Eddie has lost count of the close calls by now, but the rules have always held strong, long after the scars have healed. That is until Will Byers starts writing letters to Steve.

#steddie big bang #steddie big bang 2023 #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanart #steddie #Sea of Waking Dreams

[inennui]

My pieces for The Endless Big Bang hosted by @endlessbigbang

For @ryunyaz who's lovely fic, Closing the Distance, can be found found on ao3 ♥

#the endless big bang #big bang #the sandman #fanart #the sandman fanart #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #myart

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 4th: Rejection | Arsonist’s Lullaby - Hozier | Lost a/n: pre-steddie post-s4, angst with soft, happy ending because I'm a marshmallow. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to series on ao3

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. 

That’s it. There are other hobbies, of course, other things that bring him joy– D&D, fantasy novels, art– but ever since he was a kid, whenever a teacher would ask what he wants to be when he grows up, it’s always the same answer. 

I wanna play music. 

As a kid, it seems less daunting. He just has to practice, he just has to play, he just has to have the passion to make it big. To be the next Kirk Hammett, or Eddie Van Halen, or Ozzy Osbourne if he can teach himself to carry a tune. 

Making friends is hard, but he manages to find a few in middle school who can play the instruments he can’t– drums, bass. Eddie takes the role of frontman, not exactly a singer still but he’s charismatic enough to get away with it at their school talent show.

High school comes, and Corroded Coffin is revamped. New vibe, new members. He’s older now, a little more jaded with each rejection. 

No one wants their EP, recorded by hand in Gareth’s garage onto cheap cassette tapes. 

No venue will let them play, and Eddie knows that it’s probably because they’re in high school but hadn’t The Cure started in high school? 

No one believes in them, trying to push them– especially Eddie– to consider more successful careers, safer paths. 

But eventually, they book a regular gig at The Hideout and Eddie’s certain this is it. This is their big break. Until they play week after week, staring at the same five plastered faces every Tuesday. If they can prove themselves though, the owner will have to let them play on a Friday or Saturday.

He never does. 

The final nail in the proverbial coffin comes after Eddie’s final senior year. Being accused of murder should have beefed up his credibility if nothing else– he’s already been traumatized, terrorized, and hunted like a goddamn dog, nevermind almost killed via hoard of angry mutant bats. Surely, he’ll catch at least one break. 

And then the owner at The Hideout tells him he can’t play there anymore. 

The hoards of people who still blame him for Chrissy Cunningham’s death are too much for him to manage himself and, in his words, Eddie’s driving away good business. His heart shatters, his breath catches, and Eddie leaves without a word because if he were to try to speak, all that would come out is either an enraged scream or a choked sob and Eddie doesn’t want to risk either. 

He drives around aimlessly for an unknown amount of time, just circles around the outskirts of Hawkins. Maybe I’ll just leave, he thinks. Indianapolis might be far enough. Maybe Chicago. Fuck it, maybe Argyle and Jonathan can put me up for awhile in California. Eddie wants to go somewhere that makes him forget just how lost he is, how unwanted and forgotten he’s become. Being the social pariah is only fun when he’s making speeches on cafeteria tables, not when it boots him out of his one and only career path. 

Somehow, he ends up in Loch Nora. He can’t face Wayne right now, he doesn’t want to bother Robin or Nancy, he’s already let Jeff, Gareth, and Freak down in the worst way imaginable, and if he goes to his mom’s or Chrissy’s tombstones with one more sob story, he’s afraid they’ll start haunting him. Steve’s become a friend over the last year or so it makes sense. Process of elimination and all of that. 

He doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to realize that he’d started driving that way before he ruled everyone else out. 

Steve welcomes him like he always does and offers him a beer, sitting with him in companionable silence on the couch as they watch Monty Python and The Holy Grail and laugh at the same parts. Eddie knows Steve can see that he’s upset but instead of asking questions Eddie isn’t ready to answer, he just sits a little closer with their thighs touching and one arm strewn over the back of the couch, just barely grazing Eddie’s shoulder. 

The movie ends and Steve moves to switch the tape when Eddie finally speaks up. 

“The Hideout kicked us out. Can’t play there anymore.” 

Eddie sees Steve freeze from behind before turning, his eyebrows knitted together above his nose. “Are you fucking serious?” 

He nods and sighs, lifting one hand to chew on this thumbnail as he looks at the wall beyond Steve. 

“That’s bullshit, dude. Why? Because of the protestors or whatever?” 

He nods again. 

“Want me to go down there? I’ve still got my bat around here somewhere. It might be nice to swing at something that’s not trying to like, eat me.” 

Eddie huffs a small laugh through his nose and meets Steve’s eyes, their righteous anger blending with his own as he sees Steve cross his arms over his chest. It’s hard not to stare. 

 “Well, then at least I wouldn’t be the only guy in this town wanted for murder.” 

Steve shakes his head and just chooses another movie, Howard the Duck this time, before returning to his spot on the couch. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite movies but he can’t focus to save his life because Steve is even closer now, his arm draped fully across Eddie’s shoulders and creating a space for Eddie to easily just… rest. So he does. 

The title sequence starts and Eddie’s head drops to the side, resting on Steve’s shoulder. It’s one of his favorites but he can’t follow the plot to save his life. All he can focus on is the way Steve’s fingers trace symptoms and shapes against the cotton of his tee shirt, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the feeling of Steve’s head leaning against the top of his. 

“I had a new song and everything,” Eddie whispers, surprising both himself and Steve. 

Steve hums and tightens his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, a ghost of a hug. “Play it for me sometime?”

All Eddie Munson has ever wanted to do is play music. And maybe he still can.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie month #stranger things fanfiction #st fic #myblurbs #eddie month prompts #and then eddie and corroded coffin start playing other small venues outside of hawkins #steve helping however he can and then recruiting everyone else who's available to come cheer #eventually they play the right gig at the right time and bing bang boom eddie's dreams come true <3333 #he's just a little guy and he deserves happiness #duffer bros i'm in your walls

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny was weak. Amity had been destroyed because of his failure to act and it had hit his obsession hard. The other ghosts jumped on him exploiting his moment of weakness and while he was able to defeat them he was left with very little power left.

He was dying.

Again.

Danny had to choke back a sob. He was alone, scared, and in pain in an unfamiliar dimension in an unfamiliar city that had a smell bad enough to make raccoons turn thier noses away. He needed to find a way to feed his obsession and fast.

It was at that moment a very obviously drugged and hurt Red Robin came falling out of the sky and landed with a thud before him and promptly passed out.

Danny could work with this.

Dragging the other teen as far as he could (which wasn't far in the halfas sorry state) he settled down with the supposed hero on the front step of a boarded up store and rested the guys head in Dannys lap. Taking a deep breath he pulled out one of his parents weapons that he had personally modified. A laser gun that if turned up to the highest setting would be a death ray and at the lowest would be powerful enough to blast someone down a few city blocks. Anyone who tries anything would be in for a world of pain.

Unfortunately there were a lot of people who saw the downed bird being protected by a frail kid with what looked like a toy gun and came walking up with crowbars and bats, intending to get revenge only to find out that it was very much not a toy.

The most annoying ones were these wierd people who Just. Would. Not. Give. Up.

The one with a blue bird on his chest had almost convinced him that he was the heros friend, up until he let slip that his brother, Red Hood had tried to murder him. He got blasted away after that.

Red Hood didn't even get down from the rooftop before Danny blasted him. He had so much bad ghost vibes that Danny could feel exactly where he was even five miles away. Hood didn't understand why he couldn't sneak up on this kid.

Batman gets the "on sight" treatment and Danny is convinced he's a supervillian.

The Joker gets vaporized in front of the batfam, whose jaws are on the floor, except for Jason who's cheering. (Jason later throws a party) Everyone who has a bat logo on them gets blasted. No one can get close and nothing they do can get the kid away. Its only when Robin appears before the kid that Danny visibly relaxes. When Robin asks how he knew he was Red Robins ally Danny pointed out the matching colors.

Robin did not understand the logic behind it but was happy to get the civilian that had been giving them so much grief to a hospital and drag RR to the med Bay to see why he hadn't woken up yet. But no, it was not meant to be. Danny revealed he was not human and that his injuries were more severe than they first appeared, which said a lot because his white shirt looked mostly brownish red at this point.

Anyway, Danny was a supernatural entity who protected people and fed off of them, creating a mutually beneficial situation. The people he protected turned on him seeking knowledge about his biology via the "science and a knife" method and he barely escaped. Danny is so weak now that if he let's Red Robin go Danny would quickly die, but if he doesn't let Red Robin go, he won't wake up. So naturally Danny is too terrified of dying to let RR go and as a consequence Tim is getting the best sleep of his life

#danny phantom #fanfiction prompts #prompts #dp x dc #danny fenton #batman #robin #tim drake #damian wayne #red robin #bruce wayne #red hood #jason todd #all the highly trained kung fu detectives are stumped on how this kid keeps defeating them #hes not even getting up from the step and they cant get close #tim is having the best sleep of his life and the sweetest dreams #danny is a ball of pure anxiety #he is badly banged up and all bloody #tw: guns #death ray #murder #nightwing is pouting for about half the fic #Jason is already considering Danny to be his new baby brother #tim is going to be so confused when he wakes up

[kittynannygaming]

Banner (made by myself) for my entry for the @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang

It's a mini-bang, around 5200 words.

Stay tuned, it will be posted soon! This will double as masterlist (11 mini-chapters)

Prologue - 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - Epilogue

Pictures used for the banner: Dog (Griffon Fauve de Bretagne) - Cat (Maine Coon)

#KittyNanny Original Post #KittyNanny Original Work #The Sandman #Fanfiction #Centennial Husbands Big Bang #Centennial Husbands Big Bang 2023 #Dream of the Endless|Morpheus #Robert “Hob” Gadling #Dream of the Endless|Morpheus/Robert “Hob” Gadling #Dreamling #Masterlist

[naminethewriter]

What Dreams Are For - Masterpost

It is time for my biggest story yet, written for @sandersidesbigbang! Be prepared for a lot of confusion, angst and confrontations! Everyone has demons to face this time around and it's not going to be easy... I hope you follow along and enjoy what I cooked up this time 🤭

Summary: Dreams are weird. Especially when you’re metaphysical. There is a distinction between your own dreams and that of your whole. Even though Roman doesn't know at first that he's trapped in a dream, he does know that something is wrong upon waking in an unfamiliar room. He thinks he's in the Imagination but can't say for sure. Just what has he gotten caught up in?

Cast as the evil Prince and forced to act out the twisted storyline of Thomas’ dream, Roman, with help from Patton and Virgil, needs to figure out what is happening while constricted by what his hateful character would do and say which is not at all pleasant.

We dream for a reason. And as much as Roman likes to be the center of attention, this dream isn’t about him. Someone else is crying out for help.

Tags: platonic Dlampr, Intrulogical, Angst With a Happy Ending, Mystery Elements, Partial Mind Control, Sides are forced to stay in character which leads to some of them acting unsympathetically, mainly Patton and Roman

Story here on Ao3!

Chapter One: Wrong

Chapter Two: Rumors

Chapter Three: Unexpected Confrontation

Chapter Four: The Other Side

Chapter Five: Escalation

Chapter Six: Back To Normal?

This Story is currently on hiatus! I will return once more chapter have been written and are ready for posting.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Many thanks to my Betas @edupunkn00b and @starlocked01! You are wonderful 💙💚

Just as great are @failingatfailing and @wolfy-do-art-stuff who did a collaboration piece for this story that you can find here! It turned out superb, thank you so much 💖 💙 💜

#namiswriting #What Dreams Are For #masterpost #ongoing #platonic anaroyality #platonic dlampr #creativitwins #intrulogical #tssbb 2023 #thomas sanders sides big bang 2023 #multichapter fic #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #partial mind control #sanders sides #fanfiction #reblogs are appreciated

[teejaystumbles]

Your Love Is Sunlight

A Guild Wars 2 Dreamling fanfiction

(I wrote the Guild Wars AU I desperately wanted because I think Dream is absolutely made to be Sylvari - born from the Dream, connected to his race via their shared subconscious - it just screamed Dream to me and therefore I made two new characters in GW2 and wrote them a tiny story LOL. This is spoiler-free for Guild Wars, I tried to keep it in the early personal story and not mention major things. You don't need to know anything about Guild Wars to enjoy this, a lot of Sylvari things are actually mentioned and explained in this, anything else is not really important.)

It's a simple escort job through the Gendaran Fields to Lion's Arch but the caravan is big and a few adventurers have been hired as guards. Dream would normally not waste time with something like this, but he is expected in Lion's Arch and therefore joining the caravan is no hassle. He would be faster alone, but something about the colourful wagons and the cheerful atmosphere draws him in and he decides to tag along. The caravan is made up of a troupe of entertainers, actors and musicians, dancers and jugglers. Dream watches them laugh and tease each other with fascination. They are a mixed group, Human, Asura, Norn and even Charr, and despite their different races they seem to be getting along well. There are no Sylvari among the group and Dream is both relieved and disappointed. He had hoped to ask a sibling after their experience with these people, had hoped for new stories. But he doubts his questions would have been welcome. He looks like a member of the Nightmare Court, after all.

The group is setting up a camp for the night when Dream, lost in thought, trips over a root and stumbles into the back of a nearby human. The huge dog at the man's side immediately growls at him and Dream stumbles back as the ranger turns.

"I apologise…" Dream says and keeps a careful eye on the dog, but it goes quiet after only a click of the tongue of its master.

The man, who has a bow and sword strapped to his back, stares at Dream with a wide grin and bright eyes and eagerly takes Dream's hands into his own. "No matter! It is an honour to meet a child of the Pale Tree! Well met, friend!"

Continue reading on AO3 or below the cut!

Dream pulls his hands free and takes a hasty step back. The human's dog sniffs at his leg and he shifts uneasily. 

"Friend…?" Memories of dreams of so-called friends betraying each other fill his mind. 

Smiles and supper shared. Then stabbing him into the back when he turns.

He frowns and shakes his head to disperse them, forcing himself to speak. 

"I don't know you. We are not friends. Trust. Has to be earned."

The human stops smiling and looks at him with an almost pained expression. He brushes his shoulder-length dark hair out of his face and tugs on his earlobe. "You are right. Forgive my haste. My name is Hob Gadling. Just Hob is fine. It's a pleasure to meet you…?"

"...Dream."

The bright smile is back in an instant. "What a wonderful name! Dream. Beautiful, just like you!"

Dream feels himself glow and shrink in on himself, his petals shivering. There is no heart in his body but he feels a heat inside his chest that makes him feel like there should be. No one has called him beautiful before. He is too pale, too dark, too broken by nightmares. His sisters and brothers shy away from him, sensing the turmoil of his dreams, the negative emotions that shaped him. If this human knew him like they know him, would he still smile at Dream in such a way?

He does not dare find out and quickly turns away, leaving the human standing with a hastily mumbled apology. He flees to the far side of the camp and lays out his bedroll. The human had looked taken aback but had not followed him. Dream is - again - both relieved and disappointed at that. He lies down and closes his eyes, willing himself to rest and sleep.

~

He wakes from nightmares in the middle of the night, as usual, and silently slips out of the camp towards the nearby river to watch the moon and the glowing insects until the sun rises and the first people begin to stir.

The next day is uneventful. Except for a few huge glowflies attacking them when they pass through a swampy area, nothing happens that the hired adventurers can’t handle. Dream watches the human from last night  - Hob Gadling - masterfully use both bow and sword to swiftly deal with any aggressive wildlife. Their eyes meet a few times and Hob gives him a friendly smile every time. When they make camp for the night again Dream finds himself close to the man again but feels at a loss for words. Fortunately, Hob does not seem to have any qualms to initiate another conversation.

"Have you been to Lion's Arch before, Dream?"

Dream looks up from inspecting his daggers and sees that the human is busying himself with his pack and quiver, and giving his dog a few strips of dried meat. Dream watches him scratch the dog and coo at it quietly before he finds his voice.

"Yes."

Hob looks back at him. "And how did you find it? I think it's too big for me. I got lost the first few times. Ended up in a cave with a dead pirate playing hide and seek, I almost died - stupid old bastard." He laughs loudly and Dream can only stare in fascination. This human is so. Happy. While telling of a life-threatening situation. It is. Confusing. And fascinating.

Hob has set down his weapons and pack and sits on a log, watching Dream with clear, amber eyes. His smile shows no sign of diminishing.

"Won't you sit with me, Dream? I've always wanted to ask a Sylvari about those dogs some of you are keeping as companions."

Dream slowly and carefully perches on the other end of the log and says: "You mean Sylvan Hounds?"

"Yes! Those!" Hob pats his dog happily and looks at Dream full of anticipation, his eyes bright and friendly. The man seems genuinely nice. Dream will stay alert but simply talking to this human…is probably not that dangerous.

Gaining someone’s trust is the first step to a successful betrayal , a well-known voice in his mind whispers. Dream has always had the suspicion that it is the voice of Cadeyrn, taunting him from the Nightmare…

"They are born just like we are. From the Pale Tree, but they're not…sapient, like us."

"They're like dogs." Hob grins and pat's his hound again. Dream nods. "Yes."

"But they're plants."

"All Sylvari are plants."

"I know, it's fascinating, isn't it? And to imagine that the eldest of you are only, what, about 30 years old?" Hob laughs and shakes his head in wonder. Dream frowns. He does not like that his race is often compared to children. Sylvari have much to learn, that is true, but they are not simple . They are simply new to this world, their history short.

"Is it true that no one knows how old you can actually get?"

Dream lifts his eyes from the forest floor and stares at Hob in bafflement. He can't help a sneer and shifts subtly away from the human.

"It is. Why does that ‘ fascinate’ you? Because we are so young to have so far never died of natural causes? Because this world kills us rather than let us live our life to the fullest?"

Dream feels himself shivering with fury. He doesn't know why he is angry. Hob's question was innocuous enough, something anyone might ask a Sylvari. Death as such is not something the Sylvari view as a terrible fate, they find it interesting and do not share the same fear of it as the other races. His elder sister is constantly researching the topic. Yet Dream feels only rage at the reminder of how many of his siblings have died for Tyria, for the fight against the Elder Dragons. He thinks of his closest siblings, born with him and shortly after him. Destiny, as close to their mother as only the Firstborn are, rarely emerging from her grove. Death, named after what fascinates her most, always wandering, never in one place for long. Despair, dead. Desire, her twin, lost to the Nightmare Court. Delirium, who sleeps and stays inside the Dream rather than face the real world. Destruction, who chose to become soundless. Himself, always courted by the Nightmare, constantly fighting against his dark side.

He thinks of them and feels sadness, and rage. How dare the other races judge them? How dare this human ask him how old a Sylvari can get, when from the moment they are born they have to struggle for survival, for sanity, for recognition as sentient beings, for the simple right to exist?

They will never treat us as anything but expendable curiosities. We have to show them what we are capable of , Cadeyrn whispers in his mind. Dream drops his head into his hands and pulls at his sapphire blue leaves. 

Shut up! Get out of my head!

Hob beside him grows tense and leans forward. When a gentle hand lands on his shoulder, Dream flinches violently and looks up with wide eyes. Hob lets go immediately when he sees his face.

"Hey," the man says, his voice quiet and careful, "are you alright? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried. It's just," he shakes his head and pulls again at his earlobe, "I've always wanted to meet one of your kind and you looked lonely. And I thought you'd like someone to talk to."

Dream stares at him, momentarily lost for words, anger still rolling inside him. Then he jumps up from the log and snarls: “Lonely?! I am connected to the subconscious of my entire race and our mother. I am never alone . You dare make assumptions when you know nothing of my kin and I.”

He grabs his pack and stalks away, ignoring Hob’s soft plea to wait.

~

That night he dreams again of Despair’s death, of Desire’s subsequent descent into madness. How he begged them to stay, how they still turned from him and joined the Nightmare Court. How when he last met them, they had wrapped him in thorny vines and cooed at him to join them, licking the sap running from his throat where the thorns made him bleed.

‘Just let go, sweet Dream. Embrace your deeper urges, your violent tendencies, your love of the night. Come with me, brother. It will finally make you happy…’

Dream surges awake with a gasp and a cry, startling a nearby Asura, who looks at him first with worry, then with typical scientific curiosity. He makes haste to grab his bedroll and pack and leave their vicinity, before he becomes the subject of an Asuran study into Sylvari dreams. He finds himself drifting closer to Hob again during the day. When night falls they make camp for the last time on their journey. They will reach Lion’s Arch tomorrow and Dream will have to meet with Caithe and the other heroes of old to discuss the ongoing threat to Tyria. He might not see any of these people again, and it is that thought that lets him stay when he sees Hob coming towards him and gingerly set down his pack beside him.

Dream is no longer angry. He knows Hob is right in his assessment that Dream is lonely, despite anything he said last night. His connection to other Sylvari through the Dream is tenuous and constantly strained by nightmares, which others can sense when they meet him. He has thought about becoming soundless, like his brother Destruction, but has shied away from taking such a radical step to remove himself from the Dream. He cherishes the sense of love he gets from their mother, even if it is faint. He doesn’t think he could bear to lose it.

Hob approaches him cautiously and sits down on a tree root. He says: “I apologise for yesterday, Dream. I did not mean to offend.”

He smiles gently. "We’ll soon reach Lion’s Arch, and honestly, I could use the company, because…I realised that it is actually me who’s lonely,” he chuckles and tugs again at his earlobe.  Dream’s eyes widen at the man’s words, said softly and with a hint of sadness, but ringing true. 

“How about you ask me questions? I'd love to tell you anything you might want to know."

Dream licks his lips and blinks a few times to clear his mind. Hob's smile is making that warm place in his chest feel tender and mellow again. This human is truly...

"Weird."

"Huh?"

"You are the weirdest human I have ever met." Dream says, his voice rough. His throat is as dry as old bark. Hob laughs. "You're not the first to say that! Although I really don't understand why being friendly gets you called weird in this world."

He grows solemn, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Makes you think, doesn't it?" he muses and looks down at his dog, which is happily lying beside him, head on Hob's feet. Dream watches him closely, intrigued, and takes in more details. Hob is not particularly tall or particularly broad for a human, but he is still a lot broader than Dream. The muscles of his arms and legs are well defined by his shirt and leather trousers. This man is a fighter, his fingers callused by arrows and sword, the backs of his hands littered with scars, but his face is gentle and his whole demeanour one of kindness. Dream catalogues his colours the only way Sylvari can - by comparing them to plants. Hob's hair is as dark as ebony, his skin the colour of an unpeeled almond, and his eyes are like dark apricot tree sap. He has a strong nose and a chin with a cleft and the shadow of a beard that Dream finds fascinating. Hob is handsome, for a human.

"It seems you like animals better than your fellow men." Dream states rather than asks and Hob looks back up at him quickly and gives a small chuckle.

"Well, you're not wrong. I mean, I like people, I do, but animals - they're just easier, you know? A dog will not mind if you love it too much. It will give you its life and loyalty and love and never question yours if you treat it right."

Dream cocks his head and frowns. "Do humans not...like to be loved?" *By you*, he does not say but wonders as he watches Hob pet his dog. Anyone this man loves must be the luckiest person in the world, he thinks and is glad that his skin does not blush and the encroaching darkness of the night makes his stronger glow seem like a natural occurrence. Hob absently scratches his chin and huffs a laugh. "Of course they do. I'm just... too much, it seems. For some." He clears his throat and then adds with a grin: "So please, ask away. I will annoy you long before you can annoy me."

Dream frowns again. "You... are not annoying. You are curious, but kind. I find myself grateful... for your company. Hob." 

The smile Hob levels at him is nearly blinding and Dream feels himself glow even brighter. Hob's eyes twinkle and his delight is plain on his face. "You're glowing! Is that because it's getting dark? Do you only glow at night or also when it's bright? Do you all glow in different colours?"

Dream can't help but duck his head shyly and mumble: "It's...I..."

Hob sharply sucks in a breath and lifts his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry, sorry, here I go again, asking about personal things. You don't have to answer that. I just," he falters and rubs his neck again, a blush rising on his cheeks. "It looks...very beautiful."

Dream feels his glow brighten even more and this time he can see that Hob has caught it. He leans closer and looks at Dream more closely. “It got stronger. Are you…are you blushing ? Is it like a human blush, when your glow-”

“Yes!” Dream blurts out and grips the bark of the root he’s sitting on tightly, his posture growing more and more rigid. Hob stares at him with his mouth open and his eyes wide in wonder. Then he smiles again and Dream knows if he wasn’t wrapped in a cloak he would be lighting up their small corner of the camp like a torch.

“Please stop,” he begs and wraps his arms around himself, “calling me beautiful.”

Hob scoots closer to him and waits until Dream meets his eyes again.

“Why?” he asks softly, “It’s the truth. You are gorgeous, Dream. Has no one ever told you that?”

Dream feels himself start to shiver. “No,” he whispers, “I am. Not used to compliments.” He is used to frightened glances, to suspicious glares, to whispers behind his back. ’He feels off.’ ‘His eyes are like tar pits.’ ‘He’s going to join the Nightmare Court, I’m sure of it.’ ‘Look at that one, are you sure he’s no courtier? Let’s better not get too close.’

Hob puts a hand on Dream’s shaking shoulder and this time Dream doesn’t flinch away. The touch grounds him and he feels himself lean into it. Hob’s hand is warm where it touches him and suddenly Dream craves warmth. He does not need sunlight and prefers the nighttime, having been born of the Cycle of Night, but he does not enjoy being cold. Hob’s touch makes him feel like he has only ever been cold. He can’t remember when someone last touched him with kindness either.

Hob must sense how Dream relaxes because after only a moment he gently coaxes him to lean more firmly against Hob’s shoulder. Dream wants to melt into his arms and feels instantly ashamed of his reaction.

You don’t know anything about this man. Humans are violent creatures of the flesh, always hungry, don’t mistake their intentions.

Dream would give an arm and a leg if it meant being rid of that voice inside his head. He closes his eyes and whispers: “You see me like no one before has. Sometimes I think too many nightmares made their way into my being…that I am tainted beyond help. Does not my appearance prove it? There is no light in my eyes, like in those lost to the Nightmare Court…and my siblings fear me.” The words spill forth almost without his consent.

Hob hums and wraps his arm tighter around Dream’s shoulders. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think they are fools. It is clear to me that you are not evil, Dream, and I find you more than beautiful. Your eyes are like the rarest black pearls,” 

Dream feels a gentle touch on his cheek and opens his eyes to stare into Hob’s warm amber ones, 

“and you’re the most magical thing I have ever seen,” Hob murmurs softly and brushes his fingertips reverently under Dream’s eyes. Dream inhales deeply and feels his gaze drawn to Hob’s mouth. Hob notices and quirks his lips but doesn’t say anything. Dream swallows and decides to take a leap of faith.

“Earlier…I wondered. How anyone could find you…too much. I thought…I would be so lucky. To be loved by someone like you.”

Hob’s nostrils flare and his eyes widen a bit before another one of his brilliant smiles lights up his face. He leans closer and says, lips almost touching Dream’s: “You’re in luck, then. You should know…I fall in love ridiculously easily. And I can tell that loving you,” Dream feels Hob’s breath on his lips and lets his eyes drop closed again, “will be no hardship at all. My Dream.”

Their lips meet and Dream sighs happily into the kiss, feeling Hob’s warmth radiate from his mouth and hands on his shoulders. Hob pulls back after only a moment but strokes Dream’s cheeks gently and gives him another smile that makes Dream feel like the sun has risen again. Still, he cannot help but give voice to his insecurities:

“Please. Hob. Be honest. Do you…fall out of love just as easily?”

Hob lets out a startled laugh and brushes a sapphire leaf out of Dream’s face. “Didn’t I tell you? I usually am told that I’m too much. Once I latch onto someone, it’s hard to get rid of me.”

He brushes his mouth against Dream’s glowing cheek and adds, more softly: “I’m like a dog, Dream. Treat me kindly and let me love you…and I will stay with you forever.”

Dream gasps and turns his face towards Hob’s. His hands come up to touch his cleft chin in awe and feel his stubble, trace the contours of his face and feel the silky texture of his hair. “You are a wonder, Hob Gadling.”

Hob blushes and laughs again and leans in to kiss him again, something Dream is only too happy to grant. He pulls Hob closer and down onto the mossy forest floor, so he can finally have Hob’s warm body cover his lengthwise. They trade kisses and gentle touches, marvelling at the other in the glow of Dream’s bioluminescence. After a while Hob suddenly hums in thought and a tiny frown appears on his forehead as he seems to contemplate something.

"Dreams and nightmares…I’ve heard your mother only puts special memories into the Dream, right? Significant ones?"

Dream nods and shuffles closer into Hob’s embrace.

"Ones with impact, that create significant feelings, good or bad, have a higher chance to resonate with her, and thus within the Dream, yes."

Hob grins and caresses Dream’s back and sides with his broad palms. Dream relishes the heat coming off his hands and body and sighs again happily. He wants to feel them against his skin, but there will be time for that later, he hopes. 

Hob says: "Let me give you a memory to stick, then. Let me give you a thousand . Your mother shall know my love for you and feel proud. I want her to know the depth of my gratitude for having given life to you, my Dream."

Dream pulls back to properly look into Hob’s face. He feels himself smile in what feels like the first time since his sister died.

"Very well. May my memories of you shine so brightly that they vanquish a thousand nightmares the Court has created, Hob Gadling. May your radiant smile live in the Dream as eternal inspiration and delight for our mother and all unborn Sylvari."

#I indulged myself with this and wrote more than half of it last night as a reward for finishing the big bang art #dreamling #dream x hob #guild wars 2 au #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes #own writing

[ginoeh]

Welcome back to the third part of my entry for @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang 2024! All the beautiful art was done by @lalaithquetzallicaresi !

Due to a technical mishap a couple hours ago, gdoc decided to swallow my penultimate chapter. I haven't managed to convince it yet to spit it back out, so you'll have to be content with only chapter five of seven for tonight! I'm so sorry for the delay, I swear I will post the rest of it tomorrow even if I have to rewrite the whole next chapter!

The story is also available on AO3 where I'll post it chapter by chapter!

To the Edge of Night

Explicit HobGadling/Dream of the Endless Part 2 of 4 6k

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*** *** ***

Chapter Five

They leave the throne room in haste. 

There’s no less debris and decay on the balcony Lucienne brings him to than inside but at least it's under open sky and the overwhelming press of power seems easier to bear than in the throne room, less magnified. The feeling of freedom held in fresh air, no matter how saturated by rain, clears his head breath by breath. 

“You may want to make the storm stop, Sir,” Lucienne shouts over the din of the whipping winds. They’re under the awning of the large opening that leads out onto the balcony.   

“That’s a thing I can do now?”

Lucienne smiles a little. 

“Is this truly the first time you have influenced the weather here?” 

Hob thinks back over the months he spent travelling the distant shores. Maybe he could. Maybe he'd simply not noticed the connection because there's been no reason to suspect anything. The sky hadn't ever inconvenienced him after all, it had always been -

Ah. It had always been the perfect weather for the kind of travel he'd done.

“I suppose not.” 

Lucienne watches as Hob tries to concentrate. It’s hard to gather himself in the face of the day he’d had.

Slowly, the rain slows to a drizzle. 

“Don’t think I can do anything about the thunder, though,” he says apologetically over the ominous rumbling in the distance. “I’m… pretty upset to be honest. I’m glad we’re at least not getting drenched anymore.”

“Understandable, Sir,” she says as they cautiously leave the awning’s shelter. 

Hob leans against the balcony railing, trails his hands over it and watches, fascinated, as the broken pieces of masonry slowly start to come together again. It’ll take time to become used to the excess of power, he thinks, in contrast to the insistent and slow care he’d expended before, when reassembling the broken things of the Dreaming.

“What next? My Stra- Drea- Lord Morpheus is still gone.”

And there’s the thing that has been hanging unsaid between them since Lucienne had confirmed what Hob had feared.

“You said he’d never freely part with the stone - I definitely got the same impression there. So that means he-”

“It must mean that our Lord hasn’t left by his own free will.”

There’s an excited hope in Lucienne’s voice that Hob doesn’t understand at all until finally, she starts talking.

*** *** ***

Hob wakes in his armchair in the exact same position he'd taken before willing himself to cross over into the Dreaming. Morning has already risen, foggy and dreary, and the hub of London’s morning rush hour is a quiet drone in the background. 

Hob feels unreal. 

His body is a too tight jacket, not at all big enough to house what he now carries. The mirror isn’t his friend when he mechanically starts to make himself presentable for the tasks he knows he has to do here in the Waking. There are shadows hollowing out his cheeks that don’t have anything to do with bathroom lighting; his eyes are too dark by far, nearly black and on every second blink he thinks his pupils bleed into the whites. He furiously wills them back into the gentle brown he knows. They comply only grudgingly.

Hob can’t do a single thing about the too sharp, black nails.

The Dreaming tugs at him insistently now, a pervading longing to return to it that makes him uncomfortable with his own, human world. Unfortunately, there is no way to find his Stra- Dream from within the Dreaming. 

Lucienne had tried at first, back when it was clear that her Master wasn’t coming back and the Dreaming was still nearly at its full power. Nothing had come up in any of her searches. 

The Dreamstone is the first trace of him that has appeared in all the years since he vanished. They need to find out how it had come into Hob’s hands, they need to trace it back to the moment when it left Dream’s possession.

There used to be books, Lucienne had said, the possibility to trace every dreamer but it’s long since gone and vanished back into raw dreamstuff. Hob hadn’t been able to find it despite Lucienne’s hopeful insistence that he try. He hated having to disappoint her.

So old-school legwork in the Waking is what it has to be. Hob'll have to go back to Mayham Storage's paperwork. If worse comes to worse, he’ll have to show up in person. But contrary to Hob’s expectation it’s a simple, unexciting phone call that yields the first success. 

It’s nearly too easy to be true. 

“A Mister John Dee,” says the voice of Riodan Laughlin, once scrawny emergency manager of Mayham Storage. His voice is tinny over the long distance call and tired besides. 

“There’s no current address, of course. I don’t know which prison he was sent to. Will you come and terminate your lease? You’re one of our biggest customers.”

“Not at the moment, no.” 

“Is there a reason you asked about that one storage unit after so many years?”

Hob frowns at the phone. Such a weird question.

“Not really. I’m simply writing some things down these days, for the grandchildren, you know? Getting maudlin as I get up there in years, I suppose.”

Riordan grunts affirmatively and then audibly hesitates. “He’s been convicted in Springfield, Clark County, it says here.”

“Thank you, Riordan. I’m glad to see that you managed to work out your troubles back then.”

“Thanks Sir. Same back, really.”

Hob ends the connection and stares at his phone for a long while. All the power at his fingertips, all the fantastical possibilities of the Dreaming and yet it’s his existence as a mere human that makes, for the first time in over a century, headway into solving the mystery of the Dreamlord’s disappearance.  

It’s nearly ironic. 

He could have done that at any time in the preceding years. He could have simply investigated on his own once he’d realised that the ruby was more than a simple gem. His body aches with the storm his anger makes of the ruby’s power. He doesn’t want to look into the mirror now; he’s not sure he’d recognize the reflection. 

It’s a mundane task to organise tickets for the next flight to the US. There’s nothing Hob needs to pack, nothing he needs to take with him but a wallet and his passport. He forces himself to slow down once his flight schedule is clear. He makes himself a coffee and throws together a cheese sandwich with the pitiable contents of his fridge.

Both taste like nothing. 

The churning emptiness in his stomach isn’t hunger. He forces the food down anyway and just hopes that it won’t make him nauseous in the long run. 

When he’s already nearly out the door he remembers, with uncomfortable apathy, that he should probably inform at least his friends about his disappearance. 

‘My uncle died’, he writes, ‘might be gone for a week or longer.’ 

Hob sends the message two times, for Emily and Oswin, then forces himself to be more mindful when writing another one out on paper for Martin. If he leaves it in the New Inn’s staff room, the man will find it easily. Then, he sets the phone onto the kitchen counter. He doesn’t think he’ll need it for the rest of his mission; and in any case he isn’t sure if he’s in any state to field condolences over the death of an old part of himself.  

When he leaves he closes the door behind him noiselessly. Bertholt Grant has reached the end of his mostly fictional life. 

***

Travelling turns out to be… interesting. 

The waking world seems to bend around him. He draws eyes, more than he usually does, and he doesn’t know if that’s due to visible changes the ruby and the Dreaming have wrought or if there’s something else, as well. He feels as if he’s trailing fears and nightmares and all those things he can’t rightly contain underneath his too tight skin.

But attention is the last thing he wants and as soon as he tries to stay undetected and be forgotten, nobody notices him at all. As if he’s a centre of gravity and his mere presence and wishes influence the reality of those around him.

It doesn’t help at all with making the Waking seem more real to Hob. 

No one questions it when he slips unhindered past the security officers at Heathrow Airport. No one notices or cares that he has a gem worth more than their yearly salary around his throat. They don't see it, don't see him because Hob doesn't care to be seen. He wonders if that is how his Stranger always felt. Alone and untouched in the middle of humanity. Among them, but separate. He's not sure he cares for it all that much. For now though, it serves him well.  

So this is how Hob finds the protocol of John Dee’s arrest officer, standing in broad daylight in the middle of Springfield’s police station, a mere 36 hours after leaving London, and going through their arrest protocols from late 1993 backwards.

The constant use and control of the Dreaming’s power to bend the world around is taxing, though, exhausting on a level more than bone deep. It takes something that he can replenish by neither sleep nor any of the food he forces himself to eat on the way. For now, he’s strong enough. He’ll see this through to the end, at which hopefully Dream of the Endless, his old friend, regains his Kingdom.

Hob finds the protocol without any problems and no one the wiser and while it doesn’t help him in finding John Dee immediately, it gives him the name of the involved officer. Finding him is absurdly easy. 

It’s what comes after, that turns his world on its head once more.

***

It’s early evening when he finds himself in Springfield’s suburbia. It’s a middle-class dream of picket fences, well-kept lawns and clean streets. Hob hadn’t thought something like this still existed in the 2000s. It feels stifling, somehow. A leftover of a time that reminds Hob of the anguish of many of his lovers and friends, of sad tales of a childhood home in denial, of being cast out of families for the sin of loving wrong. He’s aware that he’s likely inferring too much and too indiscriminately - he doesn’t know the people who live here. Not without letting himself fall into the crashing waves of power he contains and searching out their sleeping minds. But that isn’t what he’s here for.

The house he observes is no different from the others. There's a well-kept pick-up truck in the driveway, abandoned garden tools lean against the veranda balcony and through the living room windows he can see the blue flickering light of a TV. 

A cartoon is on; a kid’s bike leans against the garage wall. There is a kid where Hob had expected only an old, pensioned officer and at most a wife. This complicates things.

“Eric Watson?”, he asks when the man he’s looking for opens the door.

“Can I help ya? We don’t buy anything.”

Hob smiles but judging by the way Eric Watson narrows his eyes, it looks threatening more than charming. He’s really off his game.

“I wanted to ask you a few things about an arrest you made in the late eighties.”

The man’s eyes rove over Hob, evaluating and then disregarding him as a physical threat - not something Hob is used to. He knows the figure he cuts; usually at least. He doesn’t know exactly what the ruby makes him appear like at the moment that he seems physically nonthreatening to a mid-sixties pensioner.   

“I’m not talking about old police cases. Please leave.” 

“It’s about a man named John Dee-”

Eric’s face shutters instantly.

“Get off my lawn.”

“Mr. Watson-”

“I said,” the man repeats quietly and leans in, clearly thinking he has the upper hand, “get off my lawn or I’ll make use of my right to defend my house and property.” 

Hob retreats. It might be easier once his wife and the grandchild are asleep. He’s not here for violence after all and the thing Eric Watson fears are the ghosts of his police work coming to haunt him and claim the lives of those he loves. He has many, many nightmares about it. 

Time moves at a crawl afterwards.

Hob waits and waits and then, finally, he slips into the sleeping house, unseen only due to the power he employs and not the care with which he moves. He’s much too impatient for any kind of caution at this point.

His Stranger, his friend has had to wait much too long already.   

The night embraces Hob like a blanket, a caring extension of the Dreaming. He feels like wisps of the Dreaming's power escape from under his skin and diffuse into the dark of the quaint house. He feels blurred, only half-real. The ruby throws its ominous glow across the interior and makes his own skin shimmer eerily red.

He’s gentle when he wakes Eric Watson where he has slumped on the couch. There is a can of beer and a gun on the couch table. The man rears up, wide awake within a second. He’s not amused at all and Hob really can’t fault him for it. If this were him, he’d take no prisoners. 

“How did you get in?” 

He’s tense, frozen on the couch but he clearly reconsiders the danger Hob poses to him and his loved ones. His fear is bright and loud and Hob feels discomfited. 

“Who- what are you?!”

Hob doesn’t like this. Not at all. It feels like violence, after all. 

The light of the ruby pulsates slowly, threateningly. Eric Watson’s fear hightens, blares across Hob’s senses and for a moment he loses all sense of where he is.

Next, the man has the gun pointed at his head and Hob just reacts. 

Or maybe it’s the Dreaming that reacts and the ruby. He throws himself forward, throws his power with him and then Eric slumps, suddenly lax, gun falling to the side and Hob falls as well. He tumbles onto the end of the couch, barely aware of himself at all, teeters at the edge of something and then he gets pulled into a cold current. 

He knows the feeling intimately. It’s the same cold and wild current that had drawn him into the Dreaming. This time, it's not the Dreaming at the end of the ride. Or, it is but it's a part of it Hob has never seen or interacted with before. With the mental equivalent of his ears popping he steps into a nightmare he knows.

“Hello Sir,” says the Nightmare of Lost Loved Ones. “I thought I’d offer my help. The twins are keeping the child and wife under. They are gentler than I am.”   

“What- what is this,” Hob breathes but even as the question leaves his lips, he already knows. The emotions, the distorted sounds, the amalgamation of unlikely scenes of unimaginable sorrow - and Eric Watson in the middle of it, moaning voicelessly. 

This is the man’s dream, his nightmare and fear. And Hob is a spectator to it all. 

More than a spectator.

“I can influence his experience, can’t I?” He asks the nightmare at his side but the answer is clear in the threads of the power he feels around him. This is what the ruby can do. 

No, this is what Hob can do with the ruby.

***

It is…nearly easy to get the information he seeks. It is a nightmare after all, perfectly willing to help and bend to Hob’s needs. In his nightmare, Eric Watson complies to Hob’s demands and answers his questions.  

But manipulating dreaming minds is taxing, he finds - more than just physically exhausting. 

Hob comes to in the darkness, a headache blooming behind his eyes. He’s still kneeling on the end of the couch. Eric Watson’s skin gleams with the sweaty sheen of fear. Hob feels detached, lost, more shadow than human. The strain of bending his power in such a way has taken something from him and like an athlete who doesn’t replenish the lost calories, Hob feels weak, empty.

He’s hungry.

***

Hob enters the facility that holds John Dee unseen.   

It’s a high-security institution, more of it underground than above, both in the literal and in the metaphorical sense. It’s where the truly dangerous go - and those that could be truly dangerous to someone in a multitude of ways, but where that someone has enough money to make sure it doesn’t get that far.

Hob’s not entirely sure where John Dee falls on that scale but given what he’d seen in Eric Watson’s nightmares, he’s sure that with a woman like Ethel Cripps as the orchestrator of his committal into this institution, John Dee will have little chance of acquittal.    

“Who’re you?” 

John Dee sounds hostile. He lays on a plain bed, bolted to the floor like everything else in his brightly lit room. There is sterile white and surgical steel and not much else inside it.  

He is old. Older than Hob expected. 

There’s something uncanny about him. Something less and more than human. To Hob’s senses he’s… hollow. And too full at the same time - too many nightmares, not enough dreams, too much power, not enough strength. The ruby burns where it hangs on its chain. An eerie familiarity seizes Hob, a resonance that feels sinister and hypnotising. It’s entirely repulsive.

Hob is glad that there is glass and steel between him and John. The ruby’s power swirls wildly, disturbingly undirected. It’s a far cry from the focussed intent he’d felt just hours prior in Eric Watson’s dreams. 

Yes, this man has had the ruby in his possession. Maybe he’d even tried to use its power. Hob doesn’t like the thought and neither does the ruby - or so it feels like. There’s anger there, hurt and a sort of longing that strikes Hob as artificial and fake.  

“You have it, don’t you? I can feel it from here. It’s mine. I made it into my tool. For my perfect world.”

Yes, Hob is unbelievably glad for the security door that separates him from John Dee. He doesn’t want to know what would happen if the ruby fell into John Dee’s hands. 

“You made it? It isn’t yours, John.” He knows the man can hear him even though he whispers. 

“I made it mine. It’s my birthright.”

John Dee rages against the cuffs he’s restrained with.

“It’s mine,” he hisses again and pulls so hard on the cuffs that Hob can see his shoulders distorting under his flimsy pyjamas where he’s on his way to pulling them out of the sockets in his rage.

Somewhere an intercom crackles and then alarms start blaring with flashing red lights. 

There’s not much time left until the wards will arrive and sedate the frothing man. He needs the information and he doesn’t know if induced unconsciousness is a state he can even feel with the ruby much less access like he did with officer Watson.

There’s not much choice. John needs to sleep. 

Hob feels along the ruby and into the place where the Dreaming Sea laps at his empty insides. He’s had no trouble falling into Watson’s dreams. An accident, yes, a reaction born of anger and discomfort but still something the ruby had leapt at eagerly to do.

Now, it is nearly reluctant.

But John Dee needs to sleep and so he will. Hob pulls hard at the ruby, throws its power at John and pushes him under. John slumps, hanging off his bed with his shoulders painfully stretched. 

It works but it doesn’t feel natural. Pulling people from one realm to the other isn’t something that the ruby and the Dreaming can easily do, Hob realises. Maybe… maybe the ruby isn’t the right tool for that.

Still, it is done now and time is of the essence. There are the sounds of footsteps coming closer through the labyrinthine corridors that lead to John’s holding cell. He needs to finish this before either a sedative might take John out of his reach or he is woken up and taken out of the Dreaming.  

This time, he doesn’t need to be pulled to find John’s sleeping mind. 

When he enters John’s dream, Hob immediately wishes it hadn't worked. He wishes he could unsee what John dreams about what he hopes for. He wishes the man hadn’t ever been subjected to the power of the Dreamstone. There is no sanity left in John Dee -there hasn’t been for the longest time.

 It’s nearly too easy to find the information he’s after, a name and a location. John raves about it, after all, about his power and his dream and his birthright. He’s spewing the name and the location at Hob with the barest of prompting and that’s all he wants and everything he needs.

The rest, though, Hob would rather forget. 

John Dee has made a nightmare into his perfect world and if given a chance, Hob knows that he would make that dream come true. When he exits the dreamscape, horrified and numb at once he’s deep within the currents of the Dreaming Sea and the bubble of John Dee’s dreamworld glimmers darkly before him. 

“Sleep well, John,” he murmurs as he reaches for the waters around him.“Your dreams will be your ultimate truth. A world like you envisioned, for the rest of your life.” 

Then he presses the bubble down and down and down until it is swallowed up by the endless darkness of the Dreaming Sea. He can feel it still faintly, buffeted by the gentle but unrelenting pressure of the deep sea. It won’t leave any time soon.

John Dee will likely never wake up again. 

***

Hob manages to keep it together until he’s finally far enough away that he dares to stop the rental car and tumbles out. He heaves but there’s only bile in his stomach and so he waits on his knees at the roadside until the worst of the shaking has stopped. 

“What the fuck did I just do?” 

Hob doesn’t regret it, not at all. He’s still incandescently angry and horrified in equal measure whenever he thinks of the nightmarish vision John Dee had created. His perfect world - no lies, no hopes, no dreams. He’d been so close to achieving it as well with the ruby. It would have been a perversion of unspeakable level.Hob is infinitely glad that instead he was the one who had found it. 

When he finally feels steady enough to at least make it to the next motel without crashing the car, he heaves himself back behind the wheel. He only makes it another few miles before he gives up - he’s nauseous, trembling, the ruby beats a furious tattoo of screaming power against his insides and he has nothing but the roaring of the sea in his stomach.

He’s so hungry.

He doesn’t remember checkin in at the sorry excuse of a motel that he finds himself in. As he stumbles along the badly lit corridors he tries to think whether he talked to anyone at all or if he just snatched a random keycard from the counter. He doesn’t care either way.

His head hurts. He’s angry. There’s a black haze across his vision and when he rubs his eyes, his hands come away with smears of black tears. 

Something is terribly, horribly wrong.

The room the key card opens is stiflingly small. The floral print of the musty bedsheet swims before his eyes. There’s  gnawing hunger eating at his insides, he needs to eat - something, no matter what. 

Hob nearly bashes his head open on the edge of the wardrobe when he staggers to the tiny fridge and haphazardly throws its contents onto the bed. The crisps taste like nothing; neither do the peanuts. The chocolate bar makes him nearly throw up from its consistency alone and still - there’s no taste to anything, nothing makes him feel less hungry.

He’s still ravenous. He’s still angry. He’s still so very afraid for Dream, for his friend.

In the end he gives up and falls bonelessly between the torn wrapping papers, stomach churning and twisting with the push and pull of the Dreaming Sea. He’s given so much, he thinks. He’s given so much and is willing to give much more to help his friend but he suspects that he might not have a lot left to give after all. He’s hollowed out and scraped clean and he knows on some level that he needs to replace that which he has given with something else. 

“Sleep,” he rasps around too sharp teeth and wills himself to Lucienne’s side with a gentle flex of power. 

She’s waiting for him in the cavernous room that leads onto the balcony. There’s apprehension in her eyes and hope when she hurries to Hob’s side on his uncoordinated arrival.  

“I have a name,” he gasps and pushes himself upright where he’d nearly fallen.

“Are you alright, Sir?”

Hob shakes off her hand. There’s no time to lose; impatience and anger itch underneath his skin. On the balcony, the dreary weather unloads in a deluge of rain and lightning.

“I have a name and a location,” he repeats,” The ruby was originally in the possession of Roderick Burgess of Wych Cross, Fawney Rig, London. A magician who summoned and captured the devil in his basement.”

Lucienne rears back and Hob is vindicated in the rage and burning hope he sees mirrored in her. 

“You found him,” she whispers, something unnameable in her voice. “You really found him.” 

He’d been so close. All these years Hob had been so close. He wants to scream or cry or maybe both. The Dreaming screams for him instead with booming thunder. If only he’d looked, if only he’d thought to search for his friend after he’d found the ruby. His vision wavers in a black edged haze and he knows that his fury that runs through him is black as tar. 

“I need to go back to England. I need to get him out, Lucienne.” 

And fast, he thinks. If Dream had been held and captured at Roderick Burgess’s manor for more than a hundred years… He shudders with rage and nausea. Lightning strikes and static runs in bright arcs across Lucienne’s skin. She doesn't seem to notice at all.

“Travelling will take so long.” Hob can’t fathom the horror Dream might have gone through in the magician’s house. He shouldn’t have to wait even one more second. “And I’m not sure I can - corral this power for long enough to go back, right now.” 

It’s hard to admit but Hob feels weak with the exertion he’s expended.

“You could try to travel across dreams. Or even nightmares if that's easier for you. But there is still your human body to consider.” 

Hope is fever-bright in Lucienne’s eyes. This is loyalty, Hob thinks, loyalty and love. This is all for his dear Stranger and Hob wants so much for him to see it, to feel it, how brightly it burns in Lucienne. They haven’t left him in the magician’s hands willingly, no matter how wretched and guilty Hob feels for not acting sooner.   

The pull of the ruby suddenly gets harder and the Dreaming Sea roars deafeningly in his ears. His hollow insides gape emptily in ravenous hunger. All three conjure up the image of the Dreaming Sea.  

“I think there is another solution,” he whispers. “Using the Dreaming's power is … exhausting. To do even more, I’d need to… to regain some of the energy I’ve spent. I'm… hungry,’ he finally admits, defeated,”but the food of the Waking world hasn’t helped at all.”  

The Ruby glows brightly where it hangs on its golden chain. 

Lucienne’s eyes narrow and she looks him up and down, considering. 

“You are right, Sir,” she finally says slowly, “Your story isn’t only one of a journey but it’s also one of metamorphosis. And those like to go full circle. To be of help, you need to finish changing.” 

“What are you saying, exactly?”  

“I think you might know that better than I do, Hob Gadling.” 

He does. He has accepted the ruby and it has taken the place of his heart. He’s yet to fully accept the Dreaming Sea, the nightmares that have brought him here and guided him.

“How fast can we reach the Dreaming Sea from here?”

Lucienne smiles and it's a ferocious, joyous thing. “With the power you brought back into the Realm? Very fast. Follow me.”

***

They step out of a nondescript door at the end of a winding corridor. It vanishes the moment Lucienne closes it behind her. Before Hob lies a welcome, nostalgic sight: endless water, endless sky and between them both a well-worn walkway. The sea is completely still underneath the planks, as smooth as the surface of a mirror.

Lucienne next to him inhales softly. “It’s awaiting you,” she whispers. “The Dreaming… it has waited for you to come back to its very source, can you feel it?”

Hob nods mutely.

There is a strange resonance; the power beneath his breastbone lies quietly waiting. Within moments they are at the end of the walkway, where Hob had once woken so many years ago. 

Hob kneels and bends over the edge to peer into the beckoning darkness of the sea. 

“Sir?”

“It’s alright,” he hears himself say distractedly, “you were right, Lucienne.”

There is a figure rising from water’s depth, a reflection that slowly gains shape as it emerges. Hob knows it already. He’s seen it before, once, when he’s offered a crown to the Monarch of Dreams. Only this time he’s not so sure if it’s a distorted image at all or if it’s him, Hob Gadling, in the form the Dreaming and the ruby have made him take.

It is wearing the flower crown and a sharp, wild smile. 

Then it flickers and wears the face of his Stranger instead, high cheekbones under black-dripping eyes and a sharp-toothed slash of a smile. It stretches both hands towards Hob, and on a paper-white palm it cups a small heap of obsidian black pearls. 

Hob mirrors the motion until they nearly touch at the water’s surface.

“You are hungry,” the sea, the Dreaming, its Lord croons softly.

“I am,” Hob whispers, “ravenous.”  And the sea shudders where his fingertips gently breach the water.

“We do not share,” the sea whispers back. “This is forever. There is no compromise.”

Hob smiles. He hasn’t expected one. After all, nothing about his Stranger has ever spoken of compromise. Neither has his ruby in how it has nestled itself into the place that belonged to Hob's heart and taken it over. 

“I know.”

“Then eat your fill.” 

He's Persephone, this is Hades. This is the last choice.

He’s Kore and in love with the sea and there is no choice worth considering. 

He takes the pearls one by one, rolls them between his not-quite human fingers, contemplates the stains they leave, the black smears that sink into the groves of his skin where they run and flare like darkest ink. When he brings them to his lips, the reflection smiles, the sea hums and sings and churns. 

Waves flood over the dock. Behind him, he hears Lucienne shout something but it is drowned out by the sudden storm. 

The pearls taste like the sea itself - of the salt of tears, the sharp cut of high winds, of dreams and cruelty and heedless adoration - condensed into them lies all the purpose and weight of the Dreaming Sea. They are cool on Hob’s tongue. He chews slowly, deliberately even as they lose consistency, expand and fill his whole mouth. It forces him to swallow fast and then faster to keep from choking.

“Sir!” 

This time he hears Lucienne’s anxious shout but he’s unable to answer. It’s impossible to draw enough air in between the gulps he takes to even think of talking, the water runs down his chin, his hands - it’s black and cold and heavy as the deep sea.

Hob swallows and swallows but he doesn’t try to stop. 

His body burns. The dilapidated motel room flickers before his eyes, and is instantly replaced by dripping shadows. He feels his hands meet the wood of the dock and the sheets of the musty motel bed at the same time. There is water in his mouth and nose, it travels down his throat, lines his stomach and lungs and veins. 

He can’t breathe.

he can’t breathe-

he can’t breathe! 

‘Yes,’ the sea croons with the voices of a thousand and Hob feels it lap at his insides and hollow him out until there is nothing but black endlessness between a vast sea of blinking stars. He exists, for a mere second, lying in a bed that reeks of mould, in a hotel on the east coast of the US and then - 

He is gone. 

There is darkness and water, a current that cocoons him, runs through him, as it propels him forwards, down and down and down until worlds float by in shining bubbles full of impossibilities. 

He is spat out at the dock, on his knees, while around him black waves crash back into the sea of nightmares and dreams. Before him stands Lucienne, something adjacent to shock fading from her eyes.

“Welcome to the Dreaming, Hob Gadling. Sire.”

He stands slowly, unused to limbs that should be familiar but aren’t. Where Hob is expecting strong, tanned hands with chipped nails, there are pale fingers - his own but not quite, tipped with black claws that look like the ones his little nightmare has. It’s fitting, he thinks, for he has drowned himself willingly to finalise this metamorphosis.

His legs are shaky, tangled in something that looks like clothes but feels like an extension of the Dreaming woven through with shadows. The fabric is warm and comforting, his favourite jumper and the manifestation of nightmarish fear at the same time.  

He's not hungry anymore. There is nothing in him that feels hollow. Finally, he has replaced that which he has given with what the Dreaming has offered in recompense. 

“Sire.”  Lucienne repeats, voice is deferring, and Hob becomes aware of more than himself in increments. 

He is in the Dreaming; wholly and completely, for the first time. He has accepted the Dreaming’s offer, and has become complete again after giving and giving and giving to the ruby and the Realm. 

“Lucienne. What am I now?”

He lifts his strange hands, pats over his strange clothes and wonders if there is enough of his human parts left to leave the Dreaming; if there’s anything that’s able to go back into the Waking and live there, thrive in it as he had done for centuries.  

He doesn’t wonder whether it was worth it, though. 

There is conflict in Lucienne’s eyes as she regards him over her glasses, hope and awe warring with apprehension. 

“I don’t know, Sire. A transformation, of course - you are here now, after all. There is no part of you left in the Waking. But beyond that?” 

She scrutinises him, eyes lingering first on the ruby and then on something on his head. When Hob reaches up, he nearly dislodges the object that has caught Lucinenes attention before he manages to grab it. He hadn’t even noticed it. 

It’s a crown of flowers. The crown of flowers. It lies heavy in his hands, a promise and responsibility at once.

“What…”

Lucienne's eyes don’t quite meet his, in deference more than avoidance Hob thinks. 

“No one but Lord Morpheus has ever dared to wear a crown in the Dreaming. For the Dreaming to give one to you…,” she trails off and suddenly bows, deep enough that it makes Hob uncomfortable just on principle. 

“I don’t know what it means either,” he says and doesn’t mention how he’d offered that same circlet of thorny flowers to a too dark pond in the nightmares’ country or the words he’d spoken with it.

Instead, he brings them back to the most important matter. 

“Tell me how to travel between the realms, now that I’m not bound to… to a human body any more.” 

Lucienne obliges eagerly and with a vicious smile on her lips.

#hob gadling #dream of the endless #centennialhusbandsbigbang #centennial husbands big bang #the sandman fanfiction #ginoeh writes

[crystalkisekiarts]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: F/F

Fandoms: BanG Dream! It's MyGO!!!!! (Anime), BanG Dream! Girl's Band Party! (Video Game)

Relationship: Kaname Raana/Shiina Taki

Characters: Kaname Raana, Shiina Taki, Background & Cameo Characters

Additional Tags: Jealousy, Established Relationship, Kissing, Dubious Consent, Rough Kissing, Implied/Referenced Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Swearing, Hugs, Minor One-Sided Shiina Taki/Takamatsu Tomori, Autistic Character, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Minor Past Takamatsu Tomori/Togawa Sakiko, Miscommunication, Nonverbal Communication, Additional Warnings In Author's Note

Language: English

Published: 2024-03-31

Words: 1,839

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Rana hadn't noticed, maybe it had something to do with how Anon says she doesn't pay enough attention all the time. She doesn't know.

Now that she's seen it, she can't see anything else. The way Taki looks at Tomori.

#i did the thing!!!!!!! #skylar writes #my writing #bang dream #bandori #bang dream fanfic #bandori fanfic #mygo #kaname raana #raana kaname #shiina taki #taki shiina #takiraana #raanataki #ao3 #fanfiction

[imaimaxine]

i wrote something for Mygo, AnonSoyo, that's definitely not that good but here anyways

#bang dream girls band party #bang dream #bang dream! #bandori #bandori mygo #mygo #bang dream mygo #band anime #anime #yuri #nagasaki soyo #chihaya anon #fanfic #bandori fanfict #i know i'm bad and it sucks #but i want attention #fanfiction

[anjeez929]

Read my Bandori x Oshi no Ko AU. Featuring Project Sekai characters. Hina is Ai, and Shiho and Shizuku are Aqua and Ruby respectively.

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #oshi no ko #bandori #bang dream #project sekai #hina hikawa #shiho hinomori #shizuku hinomori

[gleefulpoppet]

Klaine 3-2-1 Prompt Bang Fic: Indigo Dreams

Author: @gleefulpoppet

Artist: @gleefulpoppet

Prompt Provided by: @shiraz66

Pairing(s): Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 28,704

Characters:  Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson, Rupert Campion, Unique Adams

Summary: [AU] Blaine Anderson is rich, revered in his profession, and a powerful man in New York. After years of what has become nothing more than a weekly routine, he takes selected clients and models to the trendy, upscale nightclub—Indigo Dreams—to wine, dine and entertain them. What happens when a new dancer takes center stage and captures Blaine’s soul with those beautiful color-changing eyes?

Genre/Tropes:  Meet cute, Smuff, Mutual Pining

#klaine321promptbang2022 #gleefulpoppet writes #indigo dreams #my last short story for the bang #klaine #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #glee

[fleetingblog]

hey!! <3 can i get headcanons of lisa having a s/o who is head over heels for her and loves spending time together 🫶

Of course you can! Thank you for the request!!!

'*•.¸♡ _____________________________♡¸.•*'

'*•.¸♡ _____________________________♡¸.•*'

𝟙) You often study near the convenience store, just to have the occasion to see her,and now she always go out of her work to "breath some fresh hair" when she actually just wanna give you a kiss! She always have to go tho, because she wont let Moca have all the work,but she makes sure to draw a heart on your book before going back to the store.

𝟚) When you go see Roselia's rehearsal, Lisa feels better about her skills, even if she indeed a professional bassist, see your face makes her believe in herself way more, because she knows you love every part of her.

𝟛) You and Lisa does Amigurumi together at your house, and every time she helps you learn new things. You try so hard to make her gifts, and she is always so happy to have them. When she makes you one she smile and says "You can hug it while you sleep, but keep it a secret!" in her lovely attitude.

𝟜) She is very compassionate and thoughtful, she is always open to help you whit your problems, remaining by your side.

𝟝) Lisa has a lot of fans, who admire her so so much, in a way that you get jealous sometimes, but she is very loyal and assure you that you are the only person she loves. Her love for you is different from anyone she met everyday, and she describes it as.. warm like a really good cake!

𝟞) Baking dates are a routine by now. You two have matching apron, whit your nicknames knitted on.

𝟟) Another date you two often do is mall date! It consists in basically going to the mall and then in a clothes shop and choose y'all outfits that you will try on! Like Lisa choose yours and you choose hers. If she can she buys yours and wear it publicly the next day!!

𝟠) Lisa does her best to keep you safe, even in the small things, she notice if you stopped talking about your favourite movie, she notice if you are cold, she notice if your usual routine changes. She worries in a way that isnt oppressive, its rather pure and genuine. She tries to keep being positive and support you trought your journey.

𝟡) She talks about you whit her friends... all...the...time...

𝟙𝟘) Lisa does super beautiful anniversary gifts. She remember all your favorite things and mix them whit something about her. It can be a plushie, flowers whit a drawing, or anything else you can think of. She is very keen to give you a nice gift to make you happy and make you know she loves you!

𝟙𝟙) She does the best cuddles. She loves to caress your hair softly while hugging you. When watching horror movies shes the one that grab your arm when there is a jumpscare.

'*•.¸♡ _____________________________♡¸.•*'

Ooc: this was my first time to write hc, it was very fun! I hope you liked it!!! ♡

#bandori imagines #bandori #bandori fanfictions #bandori request #bang dream #lisa imai #lisa bandori #roselia #lisa imai hc #poppin party #morfonica #hello happy world #raise a suilen #lisa imai x reader #bandori x reader #bandori hc

[kittynannygaming]

[The Sandman] Bound - Epilogue

Title: Bound

Word count: 418

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dreamling, Desunity, Despoe, Hob/Eleanor, Corinthiel, Dream/Past relationships

Rated: T

Warning: NOTHING GRAPHIC BUT Mention of child’s death and adults’ death, mention of suicide, Desire’s scheming

Summary: When you’re 10 (for a human) or the equivalent (for not-human), you’re given (during your sleep) a pet, representation of your soulmate. Thing is, both soulmates need to be born for them to appear. Dream of the Endless thought he didn’t have a soulmate, until a puppy appear near to him while meditating. On Earth, at the same moment, it is the year 1356 and Robert ‘Hob’ Gadling is just born. When he’s 10, he got the poshest, biggest black kitten with a very mean streak. Of course, neither Dream nor Hob see themselves in the other’s pet.

Epilogue: The (many) changes that one little surprise can make.

How having a soulmate and an animal companion changed things for the Endless and Hob.

Things weren’t perfect but they were good.

Let’s begin with Destiny. Everything began with Destiny. 200 years after Dream got out of the fishbowl, his soulmate was born. His companion was a snake-like creature with iridescent scales and 4 eyes the colour of amber named Rainbow. His soulmate (an historian, Mere-phre) was from a planet far from Earth were people could change their gender to adapt to the situation, their companion was a spider named Fatalis.

Death’s soulmate was born a long time ago but they couldn’t met until 2054. Indeed, Death’s soulmate was Hestia, Goddess of Hearth and Home. Death’s companion was her goldfish, Slim. Hestia’s companion was another goldfish named Wandsworth. The two fishes shared an aquarium and their companions, Death’s home. When Death got home, she felt the tension wash away just because of Hestia’s presence.

Dream, the Morpheus version of him, didn’t die. Daniel was always meant to be his successor but now, they could do things at a quieter pace. It was 10 years after the Corinthian was remade that a companion appeared for both him and Daniel. Corinthian had a ram named Cream Puff and Daniel had a wolf named Hunter.

Destruction’s soulmate was a French preschool teacher named Adelaïde Beaubois. When they met, Adelaïde thought his art was his son’s art. It was very awkward but she invited him to teach painting and colours to the 3 to 4 year’s old kids once a week. They absolutely loved him. It wasn’t long before he got an official contract.

Desire’s soulmate, Unity, lived in the Dreaming, after sacrificing herself instead of her dear Rose. She was close enough to Desire’s realm they can meet often. Sugar, the fox met Peacock, the Dove.

Despair’s soulmate was born the 19th January of the year 1809 and was one of Dream’s protegé. His name was Edgar Allan Poe. Despair was surprised when a baby raven appeared near her but she loved Melancholy. Edgar has a very smart rat named Gloom.

Delirium’s soulmate came from a planet not so different of Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland. She was absolutely smitten with Folly, her white rabbit and Liddell, her soulmate, a metamorph, had a wolpertinger named Hat.

Do you remember that Calliope had a raven has a companion (whose name is Luka)? Well, apparently, it was because she had a Raven (or ex-raven really) as a soulmate. Dear Lucienne, who had a hummingbird named Lyra.

They lived and had adventures and reunions and children. But this is another story.

Ram

Beta: In progress

For @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang

Masterlist

#KittyNanny Original Post #KittyNanny Original Work #The Sandman #Fanfiction #Title: Bound #Centennial Husbands Big Bang #Centennial Husbands Big Bang 2023 #Destiny of the Endless|Potmos #Death of the Endless|Teleute #Dream of the Endless|Morpheus #Robert “Hob” Gadling #Daniel Hall #The Corinthian #Destruction of the Endless|Olethros #Desire of the Endless|Epithumia #Despair of the Endless|Aponoia #Delirium of the Endless|Mania #Calliope #Lucienne #Calliope/Lucienne #Dream of the Endless|Morpheus/Robert “Hob” Gadling #Daniel Hall/Corinthian #Desire of the Endless/Unity Kincaid #Dreamling

[rauchendesgnu]

Since the CHBB posting dates are really close, I thought I'd already share with y'all the spotify playlist I've made for the fic. Feel free to give it a listen if you feel like it :)

#dreamling #centennial husbands big bang #dream of the endless #hob gadling #fanfic playlist #sandman fanfiction #spotify #this has a mix of everything i felt fit the vibe #i tried organising it but idk how well that went haha #fanfiction #fanfic writing #my writing #my playlist #help idk what I'm doing #Spotify

[mintykiwi]

i sometimes dream about the opening to a certain movie, fish eggs swirling methodically around a lump of dirt, the protagonist swimming through a narrow, sunlit canal lined with green plants and curiously following a small river boat, but that's never how the actual movie opens

#i coud write the most banging fanfiction if i understood my own dreams #dreams