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samsalami66 · 14 hours

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Anon I have NO IDEA what happened to your original ask oaisdjaodjoaijasas. I got three asks around the same time so I am assuming they were all from you? If so, I still have those asks, THIS ONE just got deleted. Tumblr either glitched mad hard or I deleted it by accident. But luckily I still have the email notification so I saved it.

Anyways, continuing with the birthday fic posts, here's my fill for your prompt! 💖

[AO3 Link Here]

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Hob Gadling has lived a long life. A long, rich, beautiful life, full of wondrous discoveries and terrible heartbreaks, hard lessons and thrilling adventures.

There are, Hob thinks sometimes, few experiences left in the world that are truly brand new for him. The realization does not make him want to live less, for he always finds a thrill in experiencing something familiar, just in a different way, a different decade, a different century. But he does occasionally mourn the fact that the gap between novel experiences has grown longer and longer.

When the role of Dream of the Endless is passed on, and the facet known as Morpheus is cast off and left to his own devices, he stumbles wide eyed and weary into the arms of his oldest friend. That event alone is an entirely unprecedented experience for Hob, who has never seen Morpheus as anything other than infinite and otherworldly. But in this exact moment Morpheus is mortal, and so very fragile, and Hob vows to himself that he will not let this man walk the earth alone for as long as they both lived.

Over the next few months, Hob rapidly realizes that every experience with Morpheus is something brand new, for both of them. Morpheus has never been anything other than Endless, and Hob has never had to teach anyone the basics of being human. They fumble and fight, laugh and cry, and then at some point through it all, Hob realizes he’s in love.

He has no idea how to go about confessing to his friend of 600+ years though. At least that will be a new experience for them both too.

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On a cold and rainy evening, Hob returns to their shared flat after a long day of lectures. The weather outside was utterly miserable, and he was looking forward to planting himself on the couch and watching TV, while pretending to accidentally cuddle with Morpheus.

Except, Morpheus is fast asleep on said couch. And wearing Hob’s forest green fluffy robe despite very much having his own matching robe in midnight black.

Hob swallows as he takes in the sight. He wants to take out his phone and snap a photo. He wants to burrow himself in Morpheus’s side and never let him go.

Before he can do any of these things, Morpheus stirs awake and yawns, only startling the slightest bit once he notices Hob is home.

“Hob?” Morpheus asks. “I—I apologize, I did not mean to fall asleep here.”

“You looked so cozy I didn’t want to disturb you,” Hob replies, smiling as Morpheus rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks around. Suddenly, the other man’s face pinks, and he must realize what it is he’s wearing, for he wraps his arms around himself, as if that will somehow hide the fact that he’s wearing Hob’s robe.

Hob snorts and then nudges Morpheus’s feet with his knees. The raven-haired man brings in his knees, and Hob flops unceremoniously onto the couch, patting his lap to indicate that his friend could place his feet there. Morpheus does so easily, and Hob tries not to yelp when he realizes just how freezing cold Morpheus’s feet are.

“Green’s a good color on you,” Hob says, placing his hands on Morpheus’s ankles and rubbing small circles to warm them up. He grins, and Morpheus huffs, his blush even more pronounced now that the subject is out in the open.

“Yours was more convenient to locate than mine,” Morpheus replies, still not meeting his gaze. Hob knows that’s utter shit, they hang their robes next to one another over hooks on the bathroom door. But he hums and accepts the flimsy excuse, before he grabs the remote off the side table and turns on the TV.

They watch a silly movie for the next few hours, and settle into easy conversation, Morpheus asking clarifying questions on pop culture references he still doesn’t quite grasp, and Hob explaining some of the minutiae of human chores when they’re mentioned in casual dialogue.

They order take-away eventually, eating peacefully on Hob’s couch, and then the next thing he knows, Hob is waking up with a serious crick in his neck, the TV long turned off due its power saving feature, and with Morpheus curled into his side. Hob jostles the other man lightly, laughing when Morpheus groans in obvious displeasure at having been disturbed.

“Wake up sleepyhead it’s time for bed,” Hob whispers to his friend.

Morpheus blinks up at him, still half asleep and Hob can’t help but lean in close, like he’s ready to tell his friend a secret.

But then Morpheus leans his head up, and their lips brush in an accidental kiss.

Hob freezes, unsure of what to do. His eyes are wide open but Morpheus’s are shut. The other man lets out a pleased hum at first, and then a moment later they snap open as Morpheus belatedly realizes exactly what he’s done. He pulls away and Hob—

Hob leans down and kisses his friend of 600 years on purpose.

Morpheus kisses him back.

Hob sighs happily into the kiss, and Morpheus wraps an arm around his neck, pulling him down onto the other side of the couch. Hob goes easily, carefully placing his body atop his oldest friend’s, all the while refusing to let go of his mouth. Morpheus tastes like starlight, even though Hob knows that shouldn’t be possible. He’s mortal now, or at least as mortal as Hob is, which is to say, not very. But he’s no longer Endless so nothing about him should feel so otherworldly.

But maybe Hob’s just projecting. Maybe he really is that far gone for this man.

“You desire me,” Morpheus whispers, his voice tinged with awe when they take a short break from kissing.

“I do,” Hob answers. “Have for a little while now,” he admits.

Morpheus’s brow furrows.“But…you didn’t before—”

Hob shushes him gently.

“We didn’t spend time like this before,” Hob whispers, pressing his forehead to Morpheus’s. “You were never this accessible before you were human. I’ve always found you beautiful, even when you were still Endless, but it was always look, don’t touch.”

Morpheus nods in understanding. There was never a chance for the idea of them before, not when Morpheus was still Dream, and Dream of the Endless carried the weight of the entire unconscious universe on his shoulders. Not when he held so much baggage he knew Hob could not help him carry.

“But now?” Morpheus breathes, his voice so hopeful, so longing, so human, it nearly breaks Hob’s heart with how much he loves him.

“But now,” Hob replies, touching his hand to Morpheus’s check, admiring the way the other man’s eyes flutter shut in pleasure. “Now we have all the time in the world to love each other, if you’d like.”

“I would—like that,” Morpheus says, opening his eyes once more. “It will be new for me, to love as a human.”

Hob smiles, and presses a kiss to the corner of Morpheus’s mouth.

“It’ll be new for me too,” he replies, grinning against his friend turned lover’s mouth. “Everything is new and beautiful with you.”

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samsalami66 · 14 hours

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Shadowcursed lands

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samsalami66 · 14 hours

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Shadowheart, unblinking, staring at Tav across the campfire because everyone knows they snuck off with Astarion after the tiefling party last night: does fucking a vampire count as necrophilia?

Everyone: *freezes*

Gale: *drops his big spoon into the breakfast pot, spattering some on Lae’zel*

Wyll: *startled coughing fit*

Halsin: *genuinely considering the question*

Karlach: *whispering to Wyll* what is necrophilia? does that mean, like, a thing about necks, or, what…?

Tav: I…I think I need to go lie down.

Astarion, returning from his morning hunt a few moments later, emerging from the woods and taking in the strained camp-mosphere: why is everyone being weird? who died?

Lae’zel, still angrily cleaning herself off: you

Gale: *drops his spoon again, seconds after successfully fishing it out the first time*

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samsalami66 · 14 hours

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Idea/Ask for Mermay?

I love the line: "A bird may love a fish but where would they live?" With mermaid/dreamling twist?

Thanks! :)

this made me go feral over the idea of harpy!Dream and merman Hob! I wrote this in about two-three hours and it's not edited or anything but I hope you like it even if the question where they would live is not answered 😅 I may write more for them/expand on this scene or draw them, but it won't be today. Anyway Happy Mermay everybody! Let's gooooooo!

Dream sees the glint of scales under the waves and veers in its direction. With a smirk he drops down, claws outstretched-

When he realises his mistake it is too late. He cannot break his descent without risking dropping into the sea. His claws glance off the coppery scales, leaving long sharp scratches behind. A long copper coloured fishtail rises from the water and slaps at him, missing Dream's right wing only by a few centimetres. He hastily pulls himself up into the air again with a heavy flap of his wings and stares down in disbelief.

A dark-haired man's head rises from the waves and yells at him, "Oi, mate, watch it! I'm not a fucking sturgeon!"

A merman! Dream has heard of such creatures before but he has never seen one in his life. Admittedly, he has not been around these shores for long. He cocks his head, curious. The merman frowns and shouts, "Hey, I've never seen you around here before. Aren't harpies usually living in the South? Where it's warmer?"

Dream scoffs and flaps his wings again to stay in the air.

"If you want to interrogate me, perhaps you can accompany me to a place where I can rest my wings. I'm not a seagull, I can't just land on the water."

The merman stares at him open-mouthed, a perplexed look on his face. Dream frowns. Has he not used the correct language? But then the merman nods and flaps his tail. There's a blush on his cheeks and he pulls at the fin on the side of his head where an ear would be.

"Yeah, sorry, 'course. Follow me. It's not far, there's a rock close by."

Dream had seen the rock earlier and nods before steering towards it. The merman ducks back into the water and with a flash of his brown-golden fin he is off, faster than Dream expected. He follows, pondering his decision. What is he doing, seeking conversation with this being? He is not usually one for social interaction. He came here to be alone.

Hob notices the shadow above and thinks it’s just a gull flying overhead. He doesn’t look up, there’s no flying predator large for a merman to worry about. When suddenly a sharp line of pain is scored into his flesh he thrashes his tail on instinct, trying to knock the attacker down. What the fuck?

He surfaces quickly and looks up. There’s a giant bird flying above him, flapping his black wings to gain some height and distance from Hob’s fin. Except it’s not a bird. It’s a man with bird wings! A harpy, his memory supplies.

Angry and shocked, he shouts the first thing that comes to mind: "Oi, mate, watch it! I'm not a fucking sturgeon!"

He feels stupid straight afterwards, talking to a stranger like that, what if the harpy can’t even understand him?

Hob has heard about harpies. They don’t live in these colder climates, though, or at least that’s what he’s been told. They stick to the Mediterranean, being sensitive to cold. Shows how much there is to learn still. Hob loves to learn new things.

The bird man cocks his head as if considering Hob’s words. He shouts again, testing if the creature can understand him, "Hey, I've never seen you around here before. Aren't harpies usually living in the South? Where it's warmer?"

The harpy scoffs, a very human sound and says, "If you want to interrogate me, perhaps you can accompany me to a place where I can rest my wings. I'm not a seagull, I can't just land on the water."

Hob gapes at the man. So he can understand him! The harpy’s voice is deep and carries far without being raised. Hob stares at the harpy’s sharp face, his plush lips pouting at him. He narrows his piercing blue eyes at Hob and Hob hastily jerks himself out of his stupor. Embarrassed, he pulls his ear fin.

"Yeah, sorry, 'course. Follow me. It's not far, there's a rock close by."

The creature nods and Hob dives, swimming towards the rocks a few hundred metres away. They are close to the shore and there are plenty of cliffs and rocks nearby.

Hob reaches the rock first and watches the harpy approach. The being lands gracefully, its sharp black claws gripping the rock for support. It has black wings instead of arms and the feathers shimmer purple and blue in the sunlight. Its legs are also densely feathered, plumage covering its body up to the hips. The man’s torso is white, his face human and beautiful with a shock of unruly black hair framing his sharp cheeks and falling over his brows. Hob knows he’s staring but the harpy is the most stunning thing he has ever seen. Dangerous and beautiful, all sharp claws and bones and feathers that look both sharp enough to cut and so soft that Hob desperately wants to touch them to find out how they feel. He restlessly jerks his tail and hisses when he feels the sting of the wound the harpy gave him. He had completely forgotten about it. He lifts his body to the surface to inspect the wound. It’s not that bad, just a shallow scratch. The harpy shifts restlessly behind him.

“I apologise for my error. Do you require medical assistance?”

The harpy’s deep and dulcet voice rolls over Hob like a wave of warm water and he sighs, temporarily forgetting that he has been asked a question. He stares back up at the bird man, lost in a fuzzy haze.

“Are you alright?” the being’s inquiring voice draws him back to reality. Hob blinks and then frowns. He ducks a bit deeper into the water, eyeing the other warily.

“Sorry, I…I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. But tell me,” he says, deciding that it’s better to set things straight right away, “are you a siren? Your voice, it’s…it’s messing with my head.”

Dream’s back stiffens when the merman asks him if he’s a siren. Has he been involuntarily charming the other? He curses himself and carefully focuses on stopping any latent magic from entering his voice when he answers, “I apologise. Again. I was not aware I was doing it. It’s been a long time since I…talked to anyone.”

The merman raises an eyebrow but seems mollified and ready to listen, rather than just swimming off. He seems to be a very curious person, too curious for his own good. Dream sighs and shuffles his wings nervously.

“There is indeed a siren in my family line. Some of her magic has been passed down…to me. And some of my siblings. I do not use it…intentionally.”

No need to tell the merman that the mentioned siren is his mother and that Dream has indeed inherited quite a lot of her powers. He truly is not in the habit of using his voice to charm others. He prefers to not be around others anyway.

The merman blinks, seemingly fascinated. Dream studies him more closely. He is an adult male with copper skin and dark brown, almost black hair that flows over his shoulders and down his chest into the water. Dream wonders how long it is. The man’s face is handsome, with a strong nose that would make any harpy envious and amber eyes that look kindly up at Dream, shining with curiosity and intelligence.

“Apology accepted. Just please don’t use it on me anymore,” the merman says easily and draws himself a bit more onto the rock. Dream notes the length of his hair, the wet ends curling just around his dark brown nipples. The feathers at Dream’s neck stand up as he fights his irritation at the alluring display. He draws his gaze away from the merman’s chest to meet his eyes again. The man is smiling guilelessly.

“My name is Hob,” he says brightly, “can I ask your name, stranger?”

Dream straightens and tries to answer with dignity, hoping the other has not noticed his staring.

“I am called Dream. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Hob.”

He is surprised that he means it.

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samsalami66 · 17 hours

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If you're looking for hurt/comfort prompts, how about trans!Dream coming out to his transphobic parents and it not going well, and ends up in a shouting match where Dream vents all his rage at his parents. Hob, Dream's loving boyfriend is there holding his hand the whole time and comforts him afterwards.

Of course, don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to

i tweaked it just a little bit

In retrospect, Dream probably should have waited to do this until after he was no longer living at home. In retrospect, he should have gone to university on the other side of the planet so he wouldn't be pushed closer to the brink of insanity with every second spent in his parents' house.

Then again, if he had gone to another university he would never have met Hob.

If he had gone to another university he wouldn't have had Hob there with him as he tried to figure himself out. To hold him through crisis after crisis. He wouldn't have had to hear the absolutely wretched things his parents said about Hob, about what a terrible influence he was, how he corrupted Dream, how Dream left for university as their perfect obedient daughter and came back wrong and it was Hob's fault somehow. He wouldn't have had to hear those things. But he also wouldn't have known Hob.

He wouldn't have a key to Hob's flat, and be abusing the privilege now by sitting here on the couch even though Hob's not home yet, even though the term's ended and he didn't think they would see each other for some time, nor that this is necessarily what Hob meant in giving him a key. But he doesn't have anywhere else to go.

The short train ride over gave him time to breathe and he's calmed down, mostly. It may not have been the most well-timed decision, finally snapping on his parents like that, but he just reached his wit's end. It had been another mean comment about Hob--whom his parents had never even met--that did it. He's used to the constant criticisms of himself but he can't bear hearing it about Hob.

So he left. The slammed door and shout of don't come back until you start acting right echoing behind him.

He never would have done that before. And his parents seem to think one year of university made him do a one-eighty turn and become some kind of monster overnight. Dream thinks he was just quiet for so long he forgot what his own voice sounded like.

But he's calm now. He thinks. He's just... going to ask Hob if he can stay the night and then he'll figure out what he's going to do next. That's all.

Keys jangle in the lock. The door swings open and Hob comes in, carrying a bag of groceries.

"Oh!" he says, upon seeing Dream--sounding less surprised than Dream would have expected, considering it's been a few weeks since they've seen each other in person and now Dream is just in his house. "Dream. Should've let me know you were coming, I'd have pushed the grocery run off until tomorrow-- have you been waiting here for ages?"

Dream's calm. He is.

His lower lip wobbles and he bursts into tears.

"Dream." Hob drops the groceries--Dream thinks he hears at least one jar of something shatter on the floor--and rushes over to him. "Dream. Hey. What's going on?"

Dream lets Hob fold him into a hug, and says, "I fought with my parents. Yelled at them. Like I never have before."

"Probably deserved it," Hob says immediately, and Dream lets out a choked laugh.

"They did." It is hard to always be sure of this when they are criticizing him. Easier when they are criticizing Hob. "Only... I don't think they will want me to come back now. Not unless I... recant. On several matters."

"Oh." Hob pulls away far enough to look at him, hands bracing Dream's shoulders. For a moment, his expression creases in sorrow. Then steels in familiar determination. "You'll just have to stay here for the summer then."

"Here?" Dream says. Hob's flat is already tiny; he is on a student budget after all. Now he will share it with Dream, too?

As he does with so many things already. His time, his kindness. His ferocity in insisting that Dream own who he is no matter what anyone has to say about it. His clothes, when he just started transitioning--Dream had had almost enough gender-neutral clothes already to be getting on with, but Hob had still given him one of his jackets, and conveniently never asked for the jumper Dream had already borrowed-slash-stolen back.

His hugs, too. His kisses.

"Yeah, it'll give me a chance to finally fix your hair," Hob says, running one hand through the jagged mess of Dream's hair as he wipes away his tears with the other.

On top of everything else, Hob had been the one to cut Dream's hair once he'd finally worked up the courage to do it. He'd done an admittedly pretty uneven job of it, but Dream hasn't had the heart to fix it because the memory of it makes him smile. The look of horror on Hob's face when he'd seen the end result, his despairing wail of it's so straight and silky when it's long how was I supposed to know it would stick up so much!? And yes, Dream's hair does stick up all over the place now, but it's fluffy and he likes to run his hands through it. And he likes even more when Hob runs his hands through it.

"I like it this way," he says.

Hob smiles crookedly. "Of course."

He scrubs his hand through it again, then cradles Dream's cheek in his palm. God, Dream's missed him so much during these few weeks since the term ended. Hob kisses his cheek, and says, "I'm sorry your parents are such shitheads, darling."

His way of phrasing it makes Dream laugh, and then he wraps his arms around Hob's shoulders again, laughing and crying and leaning in to him, so relieved to have him he could just keel over. He would not have had the courage for any of this if he had not had Hob behind him. Perhaps his parents were right about Hob being a corrupting influence, but in the best way possible.

"Come on, I'll make you dinner," Hob says, tugging him up to his feet. "We can celebrate the new holiday of telling your parents where to shove it. I got pasta and--" he freezes. Lets out a long, whistling breath of realization through his teeth. "That was the sauce I heard shattering before, wasn't it."

"I think so," Dream says, and can't help his giggle. Hob sighs, then smiles.

"Well, you're just going to have to help me figure out something else, then. Come on."

He takes Dream's hand and tows him over to the tiny kitchen. Hob's hand is warm in his, his grip strong, and for the first time since leaving school at the end of term Dream feels like the tension actually leaves his body. With Hob holding him like that, Dream feels like everything will turn out okay.

Somehow, with Hob, it always is.

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samsalami66 · 18 hours

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hurt/comfort you say?

I'm a sucker for party or parties unknown trying to (re)capture Dream or otherwise damage/control him and Hob going absolutely feral to protect him... but what if Hob gets badly wounded protecting Dream and Dream has to take care of him....

I know it's not a new idea but..... I love it...

omg yes i love it. a classic

Hob hadn't thought you could die in dreams.

Okay, you could die, but you didn't actually, well, die. You just woke up in a cold sweat feeling all discombobulated until it faded to a distant bad feeling and then nothing.

Figures he'd only learn otherwise now.

(Really should have paid more attention when Dream kept telling him dreams are real, Hob.)

Fucking figures.

He gasps awake in his bed with a whole sword still stuck through his chest, and then immediately checks back out again. Happens when you've got a sword through your aorta. When he comes back to life, Dream is standing above him, holding the bloody sword flat on his palms. The blade, the murderous expression on his face, the hallway light haloing his hair makes him look like a holy executioner.

Hob's heart is still pumping blood all over the bedsheets. "Dream, the fucking--" he starts trying to say, then just checks out again.

When he wakes again, Dream is gone, and Hob feels speared through the heart in another way entirely. Take a sword through the chest saving a bloke's eternal existence and he just dips out? But no, that's not like him, not anymore--

Then he's gone again, and when he wakes, this time--

--Dream catches him.

"Wha--? Dream?" Everything feels muzzy, and he shakes his head to try to clear it. This... isn't his bedroom. He's lying propped up against Dream's chest, Dream's arms wrapped around him, one hand pressed to the hole in his chest-- to where there was a hole in his chest, it doesn't seem to be bleeding anymore. "Where are we?"

"Don't pay attention to it," Dream says, voice close to Hob's ear. This of course makes Hob want to pay attention to it, but whatever's around him, the sort of nebulous impression of lack of place and vaguely unsettling haze, hurts to look at. Dream tuts in disapproval when he tries to turn. "This is an in-between space. Not for your mind to perceive."

"Great. In between where, exactly?" Hob tries to push himself up, but a bolt of pain to the chest has him collapsing back into Dream's arms.

"Between sleep and waking," says Dream. "Do not move."

Hob's not moving again. His breath wheezes. He feels like there should be a sword stuck through his chest, and there isn't, but he keeps trying to breathe around it. No, wait, Dream took the sword out. "Did I die or not? I thought I died."

Now there's a crease of pain in Dream's voice. "Temporarily."

A shiver of unease runs through Hob. "Dream, you're... not supposed to be able to die in dreams, right? For real?" He's not sure what it means. If his deal with Death extends to whatever kind of soul-death they might be talking about that could happen in the heart of the Dreaming.

"Not in a way that carries through to the waking, but you so love to defy precedent," Dream says, teeth gritted, and Hob feels him shudder, and his hand on Hob's chest grows warmer, like he's... channeling power? "Admittedly, the spell they used to ensnare me had unforeseen effects on the Dreaming."

"Okay." Fuck, he's tired. Too worn out for this questioning. He leans his head against Dream's shoulder. Nice to touch him like this, even considering the circumstances.

"I am unmaking the dream," Dream says, "hence, this liminal space. You have already brought it with you to the waking and so it can no longer be easily reabsorbed into the Dreaming."

"Yeah, I noticed all the blood." He shudders, eyes falling shut. Still as tired as if his body is expelling all its blood somewhere down... wherever. "I saved you though, right? I killed that guy before they could finish the spell?"

"Yes." Dream strokes a hand through Hob's hair, a gentle touch. His voice is softer when he speaks again. "You saved me."

"Good." That's all that matters, in the end. Hob'll live. Always does.

He's... slipping, again, he can still sense Dream's hands on him, but it's distant. "Will I remember it, if you unmake the dream?" he asks. He wants to remember it. Saving Dream, and Dream's hands on him so gently. Even if it means also remembering the slide of the sword between his ribs.

Dream hesitates. "I--"

Hob wakes up.

Again.

In his bedroom this time. He comes to wakefulness groggily, spreads his hands on the sheets. They're dry, no blood--

He shakes himself. What is he saying, blood? Why would there be blood? Fuck his head hurts. And God he had a strange dream--

There's a sword lying across the foot of his bed.

A proper longsword, the metal gleaming unnaturally bright. Hob reaches for it, mesmerized, and as his hand closes around the hilt, a voice comes from his side.

"I thought you might like it for yourself."

Dream. He's perched beside Hob on the bed, looking strained and tired. Reflexively, Hob rubs at his chest with his free hand. Nothing there.

But when he meets Dream's eyes, he catches a feeling in them. A fragile awe. A hunger. He catches it and while the exact details won't come back, he feels the moment, the killing blow, the one that he'd struck and the one that had struck him. And Dream, holding him close after, trying to make it right.

He lets go of the sword -- it doesn't turn back into sand, surprisingly -- and takes Dream's hand instead. Dream watches him, utterly still, then says, "You saved me."

"I know." He knows, even if he can't remember the exact detail of it. Dream did... something to make it sort of not have happened, except it did happen. Sort of. "Course I did." It happened because of course it happened.

"Of course," echoes Dream. And then a tiny smile blooms on his face.

And, of course, Hob chases that smile until they're kissing.

He's not quite managed the boldness to kiss Dream before now. But the echo of Dream's hands in his hair and his palm pressed firm over his heart gives him courage. And it feels so right it's like it's already happened, only he knows it hasn't, he would remember that.

Well, maybe it's happened in his dreams.

Now, he kisses Dream, leaning in, and Dream cradles the back of his head, fingers digging into his hair. He kisses Dream.

And this time he doesn't wake up.

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samsalami66 · 1 day

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Dream got turned around, honestly. He'd been in this city for concerts before, and his habit for walking around the venue after sound check to shake out any final nerves never got him recognized, chased by over-eager fans, and (hounded) into hiding. He didn't want to compound the problem by picking another public place, but he needed to get off the street so he could arrange a pick up.

When he slammed his way into the New Inn at a dead run he was only a few minutes ahead of the crowd - he really needs to stop ditching his bodyguard (and cell phone) - and he hoped he could convince the people inside to hide him.

🎤🍺🎤🍺

When the door of the pub slammed open & shut so loudly before opening, Hob was worried that it was those hooligan kids causing mischief again (as once hooligan himself, Hob understood, but no one messes with his inn.).

Instead he was greeted by world famous (infamous) music phenomenon Dream. He looked ruffled and a little scared (and achingly beautiful), and like he needed help. Helping is a deep part of who Hob is now - half the reason Hob's inn exists is to be a safe place for people who might need help,,, no matter who they might be.

Still Dream might be the most high profile person to ever need Hob's helping hand.

Hob's hullo luv snapped the beautiful head up, allowing Hob to see the rapidly spreading blush. The deep speaking voice that apologized for the trouble (will live in Hob's dreams for the rest of forever) explained that he was being chased be a large group of fans and that Dream needed to hide until they mostly left and he could arrange to get picked up before his concert. Hob never had a better reason to open the inn a little late.

Dream was trying not to stare at the pretty man with tattoos poking out of the neck of his open shirt, that seemed to be designed to show off a little of a soft-looking pelt of chest hair, and tight enough to -cup- accentuate sexy tits 😳. The hair up in a bun,,,,Dream is trying to look "respectfully," but wow is the universe paying him back for being chased through the streets.

ALASKSJSJA love at first sight is always perfect for these adorable idiots <3

Hob is super understanding and kind - he offers his (big, calloused, warm) hand for Dream to take and helps him come around the back of the bar. There's a cozy little nook where Dream gladly sits cross-legged, catching his breath... suddenly realising that he's more or less eye-level with Hob’s very shapely arse. Dream is definitely staring. He can only hope that Hob doesn't feel it.

It's a good thing he's hidden behind the bar, to be honest, because a couple of fans actually come into the inn looking for him. Hob sternly tells them that they ought to leave the poor musician alone, and that if they don't intend to purchase anything then they can skedaddle, please and thank you. Dream falls irrevocably in love with the stern tone of Hob’s voice. He can't help but imagine it ordering him around in bed.....

When the coast is clear, Hob helps Dream up from the floor (once again, those hands are gorgeous and Dream is obsessed). They share a laugh about the awkwardness of the situation... and Dream knows that he's probably got one chance not to totally blow this. He first asks if he can use a phone (to call his poor manager and arrange to be picked up). And then he asks if Hob would like a backstage pass to the concert.

Hob’s trying not to sound too eager with his "Yes, please!" but he really can't bear to let Dream go just yet. The idea of hearing the beautiful man sing is irresistible. And the fact that they're still holding hands at this point is a pretty good indicator of the fact that neither of them really want to be separated just yet...

The press get a few pictures of Dream arriving back at the venue, shyly smiling at a "mystery man" who actually waves at the cameras. But unfortunately, no pictures are taken after the concert when Dream is back in the green room - straddling Hob on the couch, kissing the breath out of him and groping his amazing tits through his shirt. Post-show adrenaline apparently gives Dream the confidence to take what he wants... and Hob truly couldn't be more thrilled about that!!

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samsalami66 · 1 day

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I SEE YOU HAVE A TAKE ON MER HOB MAY I HEAR ABOUT MER HOB

YOU ABSOLUTELY MAY, even if it took me longer to respond than intended, oops. But! Mer-Hob is slowly turning into a different fic than originally imagined last year. Which is fine, and good, because what I'd originally imagined just wasn't working. I think I can confidently place him back on the wip list now with a better idea of the shape he'll have moving forward. And for you, thank you for your patience, here is their freshly-drafted first kiss scene:

"Dream?"

Dream glances to where Hob sits beside him, tail fin drifting idly in the water near Dream's bare feet. Dream had brought chocolate, again; the delight Hob had displayed the first two times was something he wanted to see again, and again, and again. He wanted to find every way possible to bring joy to Hob, to make that warm smile light up, to bring his laughter bubbling forth.

The chocolate has been finished, though, and Hob sounds…tentative; Dream's brow creases. "Yes?"

"I've got a question for you. Or. Well. Not so much a question, as something I'd like to tell you." He's tilted his head slightly, is toying with the lowest spine of his ear-fin. "It's. It's—I've been trying to tell you, like I would another mer, but I don't think you get it. And why would you, culturally, you've got no way to know if I don't explain it first right? So I thought, maybe I should just. Try it the human way?"

Dream is perplexed, not sure he entirely follows what Hob is trying to say, but then Hob is leaning closer, leaning in, as if he means to—

His lips touch Dream's, and Dream's heart stops as his brain catches up. Hob. Is kissing him—

Except it's not exactly a kiss, has none of the common elements aside from two pairs of lips in contact; Hob is very still, holding that touch for another instant, and then he pulls back.

Dream's heart thuds in his chest, tripping faster; he can feel how wide his eyes are and how his mouth has fallen slightly open, but all he can see is the hopeful uncertainty in the warm depthless brown of Hob's eyes.

"I'm sorry if I didn't do it right. But a kiss is how you say you like someone, right?"

"I. Yes." Dream is drowning in the instant-replay inside his own brain. Hob. Had kissed him. Hob had kissed him. Hob had kissed him—

"Well. I like you. And I think maybe…maybe you might um. Like me too?"

Dream manages a nod. "Mmhm." His heart is racing.

"Well!" Hob looks delighted if still nervous, and his tail flicks up in the water with a splash. "That's good, then! Brilliant! Okay!" He smiles, all warmth and happy energy. "Okay."

"Merfolk do not kiss, then?" Dream is slowly processing, still catching up, still circling helplessly around the bright spot of Hob kissed me, Hob LIKES me.

"Not many, nope. And I've never. But I've seen enough humans and human stuff to get the idea. Did I do it right?"

"Right enough. However." Boldness surges up in Dream, riding the bubbling tide of joy curling higher within his chest. "Can I. May I show you, what observation alone does not perhaps convey?"

"Of course," Hob says, curiosity in the tilt of his eyebrows, and Dream leans in.

It's soft, sweet; he fits his lips gently to Hob's and presses, brushes them together and apart and together again, aching with the fulfillment of this long-held wish. He is kissing. Hob. And Hob is kissing back, tentatively matching the movement of Dream's mouth on his, and Dream is dizzy with it. His hands yearn to hold, to touch; he brings one up and lets his fingertips flutter lightly to rest on Hob's cheek, away from the delicate spread of his ear-fin, away from the curve of his neck where his gills are tightly sealed. And when Hob reaches carefully to touch him in kind, Dream's heart soars.

A long moment passes before he ends the kiss at last; he draws back just enough to see, to watch Hob's eyes blink slowly open.

"Oh," Hob breathes, voice full of softness and wonder, and his beautiful eyes shine warm with the same.

~ Mer-Hob wip tag for the other recent chunk and some older little bits that may just wind up orphaned

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samsalami66 · 2 days

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King Robert tends to sneak out of the castle a lot. His advisors and guards despair, trying to impress upon him the danger of the monarch just wandering around villages. They argue even beloved monarchs have enemies who might seek to hurt him while he's dallying about, outside the safety of the palace and his armed guards. The King nods and smiles......and continues to sneak out.

Hob, please don't call him "king" or "Robert," loves getting out of the castle! It's not like regular people really know what a king looks like, even if it's their monarch. When he's out Hob is amazed by his people.

Hob has helped raise a barn, brought in crops, been taught to knit by sweet old ladies, celebrated one of the pagan-ier holidays in a village square (the mead and food were fantastic), got into numerous sword fights to defend the honor of young ladies and men..... It's fantastic and real, and Hob would argue it makes him a better king.

Yes, Hob is aware that his various counselors (and his mom the Dowager Queen) want him to get married and stop venturing out, but all the stuck up potential consorts or soooo stuffy and entitled. Hob does think any of them have helped dig a well for a town that needed water or helped celebrate the birth of a new baby in a village pub!

Besides, there might be this beautiful new artist in town, Dream, who rents a room over the inn and takes simple commissions, who is so lovely. Hob is working so hard to be charming and learn more about him,,,but Dream is tight lipped as to where he's from. Still Hob knows he's wearing him down.....Hob got a small smile from his targeted buffoonery last time!

👑🤴🏽👑🤴🏽

Since they won't stop, Hob has decided he's going to see if he can convince Dream to marry him! Marrying him has to be better than those self serious "royals". But when he goes to see him, Dream is gone,, like he was never there. Hob is heartbroken.

He guesses he's meant to marry one of the snobs. He lets his council choose. They decide to accept the Endless Kingdom's offer - Prince Morpheus.

This is the romcom we ABSOLUTELY deserve with these two beloved idiots <3

Hob is disconsolate after Dream leaves - he doesn't even have the heart to sneak out of the castle. The villagers are quite worried about him until he finally turns up one evening, basically to say goodbye to all his friends. He explains that a spouse has finally been chosen for him, and that as a married man it will be inappropriate to go out gallivanting and putting himself in potential danger. He will have a duty to spend time with his new husband, too. And his friends all understand - they accept his heartfelt invitations to the wedding. He's brought gifts from the castle for all the kids who've basically adopted him as a big brother. And he definitely sheds a few tears in the arms of the old ladies before he leaves.

Meanwhile, Prince Morpheus is en route to his new spouse's kingdom. He doesn't want this marriage at all, but after he ran away (and then got caught and dragged back home) his parents forced him to accept to situation. They won't even tell him where he's going or who he's marrying - a punishment for his disgraceful behaviour! Dream is fully expecting to be married to some awful old man. But when he gets out of the carriage he finds himself in a rather familiar place... he almost laughs out loud! He quickly has to pretend to be heartbroken over the impending marriage, when he really he's nearly vibrating with excitement.

They don't meet until they get to the altar (it's tradition, for royal marriages). Hob’s eyes light up and he looks over towards where his village friends are sitting like "are you seeing this??? it’s dream!!!" Everyone else is quite confused about why King Robert suddenly looks so happy, but his friends are able to heartily applaud the marriage. He truly deserves to be happy!

As for Morpheus - or Dream, as he prefers to be called - with the wedding officially performed, he can throw himself into Hob’s arms. His parents are pissed off to see their wayward son looking so content, but Dream no longer cares. The fates have been kind to him, and delivered him into the arms of the only man he has ever wished to marry. He can't wait to spend many years sneaking out of the castle with Hob, getting up to all kinds of mischief, and finally enjoying life.

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samsalami66 · 5 days

Text

Uno Reverse

Bonus:

@arialerendeair keeps giving me ideas to springboard off of XD

final image was referenced from Calvin and Hobbes :3

462 notes · View notes

samsalami66 · 5 days

Text

Uno Reverse

Bonus:

@arialerendeair keeps giving me ideas to springboard off of XD

final image was referenced from Calvin and Hobbes :3

462 notes · View notes

samsalami66 · 5 days

Note

popping my head in to ask about Mer Hob 👀 from the WIP title ask game

Finally popping my head back up to answer, my apologies for the wait! Mer-Hob came out of server conversations about mer-Dreamling fish assignments and aquatic mating displays, but he kind of fizzled out with the scene I tried to write. Dusting him off for this, though, I think I can breathe the spark back into it. Take it past where I meant to before, so it will have a more satisfactory conclusion. I have scrapped the lackluster 'how did they meet' that was stalling me out and given them new backstory and now I'm unsure how exactly I want to structure this. Start where I've started and then jump back to the meeting, then bring them back to the present? Make the backstory a separate fic? Rearrange the whole thing chronologically, which would require a lot of rework and shortening of the current opening bit? IDK but I'll figure it out. In the meantime, here is a chunky chunk of drafting for their meet-cute (sfw but cut for length):

Dream is not surprised to find a waterline-level cave out on the rock formation in the bay, on the side not visible from shore. Nor is he overly surprised to find someone stretched out in the handsbreadth of water covering the floor with their eyes closed, as the morning light fills the first several feet of the cave brightly in a way that is conducive to sunbathing.

The fact that the sunbather has a bright orange tail with brilliant yellow fins and blue-black leopard-like spots is rather less expected, however, and Dream gasps his surprise.

The sound startles the man—the merman—surely not?—who sits bolt upright, eyes wide and panicking as he locks gazes with Dream not an arm's length away.

Dream's heart skips a beat. He's beautiful—

"Oh, fuck!" The merman—there is no other explanation, no mistaking the flurry of fins and scales as he moves—the merman twists and flops and dives past Dream, a less-than-graceful plunge off the rock and into the sea and then he is gone.

"Wait!" Dream cries, to the bright flick of yellow vanishing into the depths, but of course it is no use.

He could swim back to the boat, could don his diving gear and follow—but no. The merman is already gone, and will be more so by the time Dream could be equipped to give chase.

He swallows back his disappointment, his disbelief, and tells himself resolutely that he surely imagined the entire thing.

But he did not imagine it, he knows this; the knowledge lodges in his mind, burrows down into his consciousness and curls around his common sense, stokes his curiosity.

He saw a merman.

Merpeople do not exist.

But he saw one.

He returns the next day, hoping perhaps to repeat the discovery, but he is the only visitor to the cave in the hours that he spends there. When the tide has gone out and come back in, high enough once more to cover the floor of the cave, when he has spent all day waiting with nothing to show for it, he admits defeat and swims back to his boat.

He returns again, and again, later each day with the drift of the tide, diving to explore beneath the surface when the cave remains empty. He finds nothing of note, nothing to hint at the existence of merfolk, nothing at all out of the ordinary; by day six, he is trying to convince himself to make peace with the likelihood that he will never find any trace of the merman he knows he had seen.

On day seven, the merman is back, sunbathing at the front of the cave again.

Only this time, he has human legs, is wearing swim trunks, is sitting further away from where Dream is treading water, stunned.

"…Hello," Dream manages.

"Hi," the man says, warmly polite. He is cross-legged with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around them, one hand holding the other wrist; he is meant to look casual and relaxed, Dream is certain, but the tension and the nervousness coming off of him are palpable.

He is still beautiful.

"You're. I saw you here, before?" His thoughts are still trying to catch up; he hoists himself into the cave, doesn't move closer.

The man's shoulders drop a tiny fraction. "Yeah, yep! Startled me good, you did!" He chuckles lightly, a carefree and casual sound; the fingers of his dangling hand wriggle, a nervous and distracted sort of gesture that draws Dream's attention to the profusion of hair on his bare legs, and arms, and what Dream can see of his chest.

"You had a. A tail, last time," Dream says, somewhat awkwardly, tearing his gaze from the sprinkling of hair on the man's bare toes.

"Oh, that, yes!" The man grins, bright and disarming. "I'm a mermaid performer, with the, ah, the local carnival."

Dream is convinced this is a lie even as the logical part of his brain points out that this explanation makes far more sense than believing in merfolk. He knows what he saw, the flexing of muscle and the fanning of fins, the bending and twisting that did not match up to the way that human legs would move in that configuration. The merman speaks with casual confidence, but the tension in his frame and the nervous fidget of his clasped hand are easy to read.

"…No, I don't think you are," Dream says, and the man's bright smile dips before returning to full wattage.

"Calling me a liar, are you?" He laughs, a light and enchanting sound that Dream immediately wants to hear more of. "Merfolk, they don't actually exist, I'll have you know."

~ The wip tag has a tiiiny bit more of this one, also.

#YES PLEASE MORE

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samsalami66 · 6 days

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I had to do my taxes today and now I am wondering about a) Hob dealing with the evolution of taxes over six centuries and b) newly human Dream confronting it for the first time and Hob trying not to *graciously* offer to marry him for (selfish) tax purposes.

I like to think Hob has been doing mega tax fraud since before he was immortal and isn't about to stop now but I am also a sucker for any and all fake marriage so:

---

It's a joke when he says it. Really it is.

There's a thump from the kitchen table, and Hob peers around the corner from the living room to see a charmingly bespectacled Dream with his forehead pressed to the top of it.

"Problem?" Hob asks. He'd offered to help Dream with his taxes. It's baby's first ever tax return and he's got all the forged documents to allow him to be a real live taxpayer. He's been having so much fun, working at the library. He'd initially been shocked they were going to pay him at all and he still doesn't really grasp how money works because Hob is not actually a harsh teacher, as it turns out. He can afford to keep one small former Dreamlord without ever even thinking about the cost. Dream spends a portion of his pay on coffee and books and scented candles and has the rest in the best, most basic savings account Hob could find for him. They're never talking about real investments or shares or anything of the kind, because Dream has suffered enough and does not need to add having to understand the economy to his list of lifetime woes.

"No," Dream says, with a level of petulance that would impress a four-year-old.

Hob hums. "I'll leave you to it, then?"

Dream makes an unhappy sound, and turns his face to look at Hob. He looks so sad and defeated that Hob can't quite go through with leaving.

"We could always get married. Then I'd be responsible for your taxes."

This may or may not be true. He suspects it's not. It's a joke.

The way Dream perks up stops him dead in his tracks.

"What would getting married involve?" Dream asks.

Shit.

"Umm..." Hob scratches the back of his neck. "Well, we'd need to get a licence. Quick little... thing down at the council offices or the courts or something. You would have to kiss me," he adds, grinning.

Dream tilts his head. "Just the once?"

Hob blinks, a little stone of disappointment turning over in the pit of his stomach. "Just the once, yeah."

Dream purses his lips. Hob can almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

"Then I accept," Dream says, closing his laptop and pushing it towards Hob. "We will marry, and you will be responsible for my taxes."

So they get married.

"You didn't actually have to kiss me like that," Hob says, face still aflame as they step into the cool air outside, marriage certificate in hand.

"Like what?" Dream asks, so nonchalant it has to be genuine.

Like you were examining my tonsils, Hob doesn't say.

"Doesn't matter. Do you want to grab a bite to eat? In lieu of a proper reception."

"I would like that."

Hob does Dream's taxes, as promised, two days later, and presents him with the confirmation screen.

"You are a good husband," Dream says, dropping a kiss on the top of Hob's head.

Hob sits for several minutes, poleaxed, before getting up to make them both a cup of tea.

The next time they go to the supermarket, Hob almost has a heart attack when Dream's hand curls around his. He looks down, looks at Dream—who isn't even looking at him—and then looks in the direction Dream's looking. At the end of the aisle there's a pair of, Hob assumes, newlyweds holding hands, having an animated discussion about breakfast spread options.

"You don't have to," Hob says softly.

Dream looks at him, blinks, wrinkles his nose, and tugs him towards the cereals.

Life goes on. They've always gone out together a lot, so they keep doing that.

Hob gets Dream a coffee, and hands it to him as they leave the café. Dream accepts it, and before Hob can figure out what's about to happen, darts in and kisses him. It's not the full dental exam the first one was, but it's very definitely happening.

"You are a good husband," Dream says, turning in the direction of the park they're meant to be heading for without another word or backwards glance.

Hob swings by the library to pick Dream up from work, and finds himself being taken by the hand like something being brought in for show-and-tell, around to all Dream's favourite colleagues and regular patrons to be introduced as his husband. It's...

Well, it's quite nice, actually, but it's not...

"You know you're not obliged to make other people believe it, don't you? The tax man isn't going to find out."

Not least of all because it wouldn't make one iota of a difference, but Hob doesn't quite have the heart to explain that at this point. Dream's treating this very seriously.

If it wasn't all an elaborate panto, Hob would be enjoying it a lot.

Dream looks at him like he's an idiot—familiar territory—and gets his coat. Hob helps him into it automatically, and then Dream takes his hand again as they head outside.

Okay, fine. Dream is clearly convinced that they need to convince other people they're married for reasons other than Hob's ability to manipulate a spreadsheet.

It's not as though Hob minds holding his hand or being introduced as his husband—that is literally true, anyway. And even though he knows it's all part of the act Dream's putting on, he really doesn't mind being kissed as a thank you, or a greeting. Or sometimes just because. Sometimes Dream stops him in the street and holds up the foot traffic to kiss him, and Hob really doesn't mind, honestly.

It's fine. It's fine, it's fine. Hob's managed to keep a greater or lesser hold on his sanity for six centuries, and pretending to have the thing he wants most in the whole world isn't going to be what breaks him. Not even if Dream cuddles up to him on the tube on the way home every time they go out. Not even when he shows up at the university, introduces himself to absolutely everyone as Professor Gadling's Husband, and kisses him hello in front of a whole lecture hall full of first years.

At least, not until Hob drops into the library and finds Dream calmly going through something on the computer with a young woman who's obviously been crying. Dream hasn't spotted him yet, and he doesn't quite mean to spy, but he also doesn't want to interrupt.

"Perfectly simple," Dream says, low and soothing. He's good with people who're upset. Some things never change, Hob supposes, and sleep is always restorative. "My husband taught me all of this, so you mustn't be embarrassed. Taxes are complicated."

Except Hob had not, at any point, showed Dream any of it. He'd just done it. There'd been no instructional element. Hob had simply accepted that he'd be responsible for taxes until the sun exploded.

He watches with his jaw hanging as Dream explains patiently and with authority how to do each step, and the two of them whiz through it in the space of ten minutes before the young woman offers Dream a hug—which he accepts—and goes on her merry way.

It's at that point that Dream notices him.

"Hob," he says, widened eyes giving away that he knows he's been busted.

"Have you secretly got a second husband who showed you how to do that?"

Dream bites his lip.

Hob realises extremely belatedly that Dream knows Hob thinks he's adorable. That he knows Hob can't resist him being a little pathetic. That...

"You knew how to do it," Hob says.

Dream hesitates. Hob watches the full spectrum of possible responses pass through his mind, glimmering in his eyes, before he draws a breath to speak.

"It is a simple form and some basic arithmetic."

"And you're billions of years old and smart even for your age," Hob says as he realises it himself. Why had he thought Dream would be defeated by something like a tax return?

Because Dream had also seemed defeated by...

"You know how the kettle works," Hob says.

Dream nods. "I like the way you make tea for me. It is never quite the same twice, but it is made with affection."

"You also know how the telly works," Hob goes on.

"But if you are required to operate it, you will sit with me."

"And you could've done your own taxes," Hob says. His brain feels like a series of knots being untangled. "But... you know me. You know me so well, better than you let on. Because you think it'll freak me out, I suppose. You knew I'd joke about getting married for tax purposes?"

Dream nods in confirmation.

"And you knew you could run with it."

Crafty bugger. But then he can't help it, can he? Dreams are manipulative. You can take the metaphysical concept out of the function, but you can't take the function out of the ex-metaphysical concept, current menace of a flatmate-slash-best-friend-slash-husband.

Dream nods again.

"Because..." Hob lets out a breath. It can't be true, except it's the only logical conclusion. "You wanted us to be married?"

Dream smiles the sort of tiny, proud smile normally witnessed the faces of parents whose children have just managed to say dada for the first time. He takes a step forwards, closing the gap between them.

Hob suspects he ought to be cross, but then Dream takes both of his hands and he can't quite summon the necessary ill-feelings for it past the sudden upswell of happiness and wellbeing he feels whenever Dream touches him.

"I was just dropping by to tell you that we're stuck in a hotel for the night. Kitchen's flooded. Burst pipe, looks like. I packed you a bag."

"You are a very good husband," Dream says. Normally there's a note of playfulness, even laughter, when he says it. But this is different.

Hob glances up to meet his eyes.

Dream kisses him. He's gotten the hang of appropriate depths of kiss for various public settings, so it's soft and gentle, but lingering.

"I really want to be," Hob confesses.

Dream lights up, one of his gorgeous little smiles making his eyes glitter. "Then we are unified in our desires."

"You want me to be a good husband?"

"To continue to be so, yes."

Hob lets out a long breath. Well. This is...

Good, probably. Yeah, good. Who cares how they got here.

"I was also coming to warn you that the insurance has only booked us one room with one bed. Because we're married."

Dream's eyes sparkle in a way Hob genuinely hasn't seen before.

"I believe that is the ideal number of beds," he says. "I will look forward to seeing you tonight."

Hob leaves the library in a daze, with the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. It's almost enough to make him like taxes.

Almost.

#this is literally amazing #had no clue taxes could inspire such sweet of a thing #the sandman #dreamling

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