thinking again about dream’s utter reluctance to kill rose, and what that says about him
like, sure, he told himself he was keeping her alive so she’d find the missing dreams, and that was definitely useful to him, but even after she did so, he hesitates. there was absolutely no benefit to keeping her alive after that point, and he has been explicitly going against the rules this entire time in letting her power grow at all - dream, the most lawful character in this story (aside from perhaps destiny), he doesn’t even try to kill her until he gets her explicit permission.
and dream is very aware of the potential consequences here. for show fans who haven’t read the comics, when dream said he failed in his duty and an entire universe was lost? that’s actually how he got trapped by burgess in the first place - he couldn’t kill the vortex, he cared too much about her, so he let the dream spread. even once his siblings forced his hand, he didn’t finish the job, he ran away. and it kept getting bigger and bigger, until it consumed literally everything, and dream had to essentially remake the universe by taking a dream where he never made that mistake and turning it real. but the energy expended to do that drained him of so much power that it left him vulnerable to magic like burgess’ - magic that could never normally come close to touching an endless, it’s why he got dream and not death.
dream is still recovering from the last time he made this kind of mistake. but none of that knowledge is enough to override who he is as a person
i think a lot, about dream's protests here.
because for all that killing a dream vortex is explicitly a part of his duty, it also runs entirely counter to who he is
he's literally made up of every dream anyone has ever had, he exists because people dream, because they hope. like he says in his speech to john in episode 5, people need dreams to keep living. and it goes the other way round, too. because there's no way to kill a dream, no matter how shitty a situation you put a person in, they can always hope that things will change, that they will get better. but if you kill a person, that's the only way to ensure they can never dream again, the only way to permanently stop a dream. of course he can't bring himself to do so willingly, of course he's going to object to it - in order for him to even exist, he has to believe that there's always another way
and he's spent so long being punished for that mercy. which is why i love the doll's house plot, because this time, his hesitation means unity has time to figure out what's going on, and keep him from falling into desire's trap
for once, the fact that he couldn't kill someone saves his life
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Sandman prompt: Dreamling roadtrip
"Remind me why I am allowing this," says Dream.
Hob casts a sidelong glance at him. Dream, in his car. Dream, stuck in the crawl of London traffic with him. Imagine that.
He reels off Dream's succession of unfortunate choices with poorly smothered glee. "Because your sister said you should spend more time among us humans, which you mentioned in passing to Matthew yesterday, who suggested a road trip, then had to explain to you that a road trip meant 'Just driving somewhere for a while', and you apparently you said-," Hob pauses to pitch his voice as low and poncy as possible, "'Ah, a pilgrimage, then. A journey for self-knowledge.' And Matthew said 'That's right, boss' and you said you would, in fact, be curious about such an experience."
"False pretenses," says Dream, darkly, under his breath.
"Indeed," says Hob, who thinks he loves false pretenses now. Matthew had shown up at his flat laughing so hard he couldn't even speak. When he finally recounted the conversation (after Hob had gotten very concerned and asked if Matthew needed a human counselor or an animal vet, and Matthew had shaken his head and wheezed 'No, a driver', before falling into fits of laughter again), Hob had immediately agreed.
"And then I canceled my plans for the weekend because I'm the only human you know who has a car, it turns out," (A reliable and bright red Vauxhall Corsa, thank you for asking.) "And because I'm a very good friend," he adds. He still relishes the new-word feel of it. It had only been four months since Dream had shown up at The New Inn. Hob was skiving off marking midterm papers for this, actually.
"Yes," says Dream. Hob realizes he'd skive off the whole term for this.
How could he turn down the prospect? His friend, literally strapped into the Corsa for at least the next several hours. Assuming Dream didn't leap out and flee on foot down the M1 - which seemed so thoroughly undignified for a being of Dream's station that Hob felt utterly assured of his company. It had all rather gone to his head.
"This will be fun," he promises. "Feel the grass under your feet, and that."
Dream looks out the window bitterly as a lorry overtakes them. Hob has never been the fastest of drivers. Never really took to it, to be honest. Bit of the medieval peasant in him, he thinks, can't quite make himself go over fifty miles per hour. But he's very safe. Hardly any accidents. Mostly minor rear-end damage.
"I see no grass," says Dream.
"Surely the Lord of Stories is familiar with figurative speech," says Hob, and glows under the heat of Dream's glare in reply.
"Anyways," he continues, "We're getting to that bit. Literally. In, uh, six hours or so? It's a great spot. But in the mean time, this is part of it too." Hob takes a hand off the wheel to gesture with a flourish at the sea of sensible hatchbacks and work vans around them, swimming like fish in the asphalt rivers of London's outer burbs. "Humanity," he pronounces, and the car drifts a little into the next lane. Humanity honks rudely at him and then accelerates safely out of Hob's radius.
Dream's sulking seems to have pushed him fully into the realm of catatonia, because Hob's passengers are usually more animated when he does exciting little things like that. Hob looks over in concern and this time the car barely follows with him.
"Bit rusty," he offers.
Dream deigns to snort softly at that. "My sister is far worse," he says.
Hob raises his eyebrows. It was hard to imagine Death bad at anything, frankly. Dream must see his look because he clarifies.
"Another sister. Delirium. An official of the carriageway stopped us. He would not have us continue our passage. So she gave him delusion of bugs crawling across his skin. Forever."
"Well, that's one way to get out of a ticket," says Hob, and makes a mental note to ask Death for a complete list of siblings and how to avoid angering them.
"He was being rude," adds Dream. He suddenly sounds very much like an older brother.
"Oh, fair play, then," says Hob affably. He'd had little sisters once. He understood.
They drive in silence for a few minutes. Hob thinks about putting on a playlist, and has just decided that nineties Britpop is perfect for this occasion when they pass a junction sign and he exclaims in recognition.
"The M25! Funny story, I know just the loveliest antiquarian book dealer who says his partner - uh, I'm assuming there, but if you heard the way he talks about him - anyways, his partner designed it. Some kind of high-flying civil engineer, I reckon."
"Really," says Dream. "A...high-flying...civil engineer." He sounds fascinated.
Hob hadn't expected Dream to be interested in road design.
"Something like that, definitely," he says, looking over to see Dream, staring at him, rapt. He looks back and brakes just in time to avoid hitting the car in front of him as it turns off onto the motorway in question. "Sorry. Saw him once in passing, actually. Dresses like you. Very fancy and dark."
"Perhaps you should keep your focus on the road, Hob," says Dream, but he sounds like he's smiling.
"Oh, we're not for a while yet," says Hob. Half truth, half optimism.
"Where are we going?" asks Dream. Hob beams. He's just won a bet with Matthew.
"It's a surprise" he says. "Now, have you heard of this band called Oasis?"
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