#hob adherent

[scifrey]

I was watching some "Reading the Past" videos for research, and learned about this piece of original 18th century stained glass in St. Margaret's Church, Westminster.

Stained glass window showing William Caxton, King Edward IV and printing press inside Saint Margaret's Church, Westminster. This is a 1960s recreation, after the original was destroyed.

Based on the 1877 illustration by William Small.

HOB?!?

Is that you wrenching that press tight, bruh? Were you having a laugh when you posed for the sketch for this window 400 years later?

#hob gadling #cling fast adjacent #cling fast #hob adherent #the sandman #william caxton

[10moonymhrivertam]

Piano

“D’you play?”

“...It falls under my purview. I am able. I do not...anymore.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Giving myself a point in our argument, is all.”

“...For the worse, perhaps.”

“Are you trying to bully my friend, saying he can’t change for the better? I’ll fight you. With wasters.”

“I suppose I have no choice but to yield. For now.”

#context: wasters are swords that are meant to break like wooden ones from a ren faire #(i believe i learned that from the hob adherent author) #yes i am correct this time #and it's losyark #dreamling #fic #dialogue #the sandman #sandman netflix #also i feel the need to clarify that hob is arguing that he can change at all #given that he usually tells himself that endless don't change and he's wrong if he does

[avelera]

Dream of the Endless does dumb stuff in my fics. Sometimes people point out that he does dumb stuff in my fics. Sometimes I get a little self-conscious about it, because I worry that they think he's OOC or should have acted differently, which is ultimately on me as the writer.

Then I remember that Dream is canonically a moron. Literally. Stated in the text, he's an idiot.

Lucienne's body language is clear. Unity is right but she's too loyal/diplomatic to agree with her aloud.

I could turn this into an entire essay of images and quotes from the comic and show of Dream doing dumb shit, like calling on the Fates before seeking help literally anywhere else. Or how Destruction points out that Dream just deliberately forgets anything that doesn't hold his interest or (implied by extension) agree with his worldview.

Everyone with any brains in "The Sandman" agrees that Dream is very dramatic and very pretty (thanks, Hob) and not the least bit intelligent.

This fact gives me great delight.

And so I shall continue to adhere as close to canon as possible, and continue to make Dream the fucking moron that he truly is. Bless.

#the sandman #dream of the endless #this is mostly tongue in cheek I'm not actually worried about commenters #if anything though I sometimes have to remind myself to make him dumber and his reasoning less rational #1589 fic

[cuubism]

on watching your god become human

--

"I don't believe you are meant to be here, Corinthian."

Corinthian is certainly not meant to be here. He's not sure where the impulse to slip from his cage came from; he's pretty sure that was supposed to be written out of him when Dream reconstructed him from the ashes of his rebellious former self. Maybe when you make a being of wanting, the wanting for itself comes back, whether you like it or not.

"Fuck that," he says. "Neither are you."

Morpheus observes him placidly from where he's sitting on Hob Gadling's couch, sipping a cup of tea. Humans are alternately entranced by or repelled by the Corinthian, depending on their particular complexes, but Morpheus -- human, human Morpheus -- is neither. He knows the truth of what the Corinthian is, and doesn't fear him, even though Corinthian could step over there and bury a knife in his throat and this time, it would stick.

"Maybe not," Morpheus concedes. Dead, he's supposed to be dead, Corinthian thinks. "But I am. Are you going to sit, or just ogle?"

Corinthian might just stare at him. Morpheus looks exactly the same as last Corinthian saw him, except that he is fucking human, and every time Corinthian looks away from him and then back, his stomach jolts like he’s missed a step on the stairs.

"Depends, are you going to call the cops on me?"

"Is that how you saw me?" Morpheus asks. "As jailer and persecutor?"

"...No," Corinthian admits. In his former life, in the end, maybe. In the way an adherent chafes against the strict, incomprehensible strictures of his holy book. But Morpheus -- Dream -- was much more than some rules meant to circumscribe him.

"Regardless, I won't 'report' you," says Morpheus, with a half-smile. His eyes are sharp and knowing as ever where they track Corinthian's movement across the living room as he sits down in the armchair across from the couch. But he's lacking the thrum of power Corinthian is used to. The gravity well of belonging that always let Corinthian know he was near, that drew him in. It's disconcerting. "As long as you don't go around carving out eyes, after this. I would hate to see you unmade."

Corinthian has more important business here than that. Besides, he isn't interested in being taken apart again.

"I'll pass. Pretty sure that kid would dissolve me like that."

"Are you somehow implying that I was lenient with you?" says Morpheus. "Although, I suppose he did not create you."

"If you wanna get technical about it he did," says Corinthian. That well of power has transferred over to Daniel, now, those ancient brushstrokes of creation now following the path of his hands. But it feels wrong. The Corinthian does not want to be Daniel's creation. He wants to be Morpheus's. He has always been Morpheus's.

"Technically," repeats Morpheus, a spark in his eyes as if he knows exactly what Corinthian is thinking. "I still consider you mine."

This sends a confusing rush of emotions clanging through Corinthian's being. Not that that is an unfamiliar sensation, around Morpheus. Pleasure and indignation war within him. "You have no power over me anymore."

"Don't I?"

Corinthian grits his teeth. He doesn't know what to do with this Morpheus. Whether to hate him, whether to mourn him. Whether to drag him back to what he once was, somehow. "You're nothing, Morpheus.” He intends this to sound cruel. It doesn’t, quite. “You were a world." My world. “Now you're nothing."

"I've accepted that," Morpheus says, which is not the response Corinthian had expected, and gives him no satisfaction. He wanted Morpheus to lash at him. To punish him, the way he might once have, for his rebellions. Instead, Morpheus just watches him evenly, as if this behavior is no surprise to him but doesn't bother him anymore. Because it’s not his responsibility anymore. Because he’s human.

Once, Morpheus had been an entire dreaming universe. One the Corinthian inhabited. Once he had held Corinthian's fabricated heart in his hands, crafted each ventricle from dreamstuff. Corinthian was carved from a piece of his soul. A piece that he didn't want, Corinthian had thought, at his first life's end. A piece that he wanted too much, Corinthian thought, when reborn. He had thought he could see straight through to Morpheus's heart, that he was a part of him, that he understood. He had thought he knew everything.

And now Morpheus is sitting in the Waking world like a human, as a human, and Corinthian thinks desperately on the boundless creature he once knew and wonders what he didn't see.

"Some hypocrite you are," he accuses. "Unmaking me for wanting to be different."

"You'll notice I didn't use it as an opportunity to murder people," Morpheus says drily. "However, perhaps that has some merit. But tell me: would you give up what you are to be here? Not as a nightmare walking free in the Waking, but as a human?"

This gives Corinthian pause. Once, he had roamed the Waking world as a terror, had gorged himself on power. Had held men at his mercy and relished in it. It would not be quite the same, would it, to be one of those men himself.

"I don't know," he says.

"It's not so easy a trade to make," Morpheus says, setting down his tea and holding out his hands, palms up, hands that once could have stripped the Corinthian back to dreamstuff, now useless against him, "to give up your power for freedom."

Corinthian isn't sure if this is what he intends, but he lays his own palms over Morpheus's.

His skin is warm. Soft. Human. Corinthian could never have touched him like this, before. Not that Morpheus had never touched him. But it had not been like this, with hands open.

"I tried to destroy you," he says.

"So you did, my creation."

"Did that hurt?" Corinthian had meant it to. At the time.

"When you make something with your own hands and it decides it hates you," Morpheus says, gaze without its old stars but still fathomless as he looks down at their joined hands, "yes, it hurts."

The thought gives Corinthian no satisfaction now. "I never hated you." I loved you. "I worshiped you."

"I don't require worship."

"I loved you, and you unmade me." He stands without meaning to, and looks down at Morpheus from above. Morpheus doesn't follow him to standing, just observes him, face tilted up. He looks, if anything, sad. Corinthian recalls, from a distance, the expression of disappointment as his former self was unmade.

"And then I made you again," Morpheus says.

"Better?"

"More suited to your purpose."

"Like you did with yourself?"

Morpheus blinks and looks away, thrown by the accusation. "I--"

"Ripped yourself apart and threw away the piece that wasn't working?" For Daniel is Dream but also not, and it's the not that keeps sticking in Corinthian's guts like a bite of tough meat, impossible to digest.

"Is that not what you wanted?" Morpheus says. He seems discomfited by the Corinthian's words. "You did tell me to change."

"Yeah, well, I didn't want some random kid running the place that you made." He doesn't know, anymore, exactly what he wanted, only that now he wants Morpheus and seeing Morpheus here, like this, leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, carves fault lines everywhere he stands.

"I've been assured Daniel is doing a fine job."

Corinthian huffs in frustration. "Sure, yeah, fine."

"What do you want of me, Corinthian?" Morpheus asks. They're still fucking holding hands. Morpheus hasn't pulled away. His hands are weightless in Corinthian’s grip. “Absolution? I granted it when I remade you. Guidance? That is no longer mine to offer."

Love? Corinthian thinks, disgusted with himself. I don't fucking know. He's not even sure why he's here, only that he had to see. Had to see all of this for himself.

“You can’t give me anything, Morpheus. You're just a human now." The word scrapes over his throat, he might cry with rage, it's so intolerable. “You were so—”

"So?"

Beautiful. Monstrous. Terrible.

He is still beautiful. Corinthian has always thought so. Was he made to feel this way? Maybe. But that doesn't change the feelings. Once, Morpheus was beautiful in the way of a distant, inhospitable planet, seen only by craning your neck up to the sky. Now, Corinthian is walking in that landscape. He's unused to having to be wary of where his footsteps tread.

He squeezes Morpheus's hands, hard, and when he lets go the skin has gone white, blood chased away by the pressure.

Corinthian stares at the evidence of his touch. Morpheus is vulnerable to him now, as vulnerable as any of the men the Corinthian's former self had killed. Corinthian is more powerful than him, except that Morpheus is right, Corinthian is still in thrall to him and would only destroy himself by destroying Morpheus now.

He had not yet even accepted the idea of Morpheus as something that could be killed. And now he must contend with this as well, this bloody human thing.

Barely thinking about it, he steps closer, until he's standing between Morpheus's spread knees, looking down at him. He takes liberties he had always wanted to, slides his hands up Morpheus's throat, cradles his face with thumbs hooked under his jaw to tilt his head up further. Morpheus doesn't stop him. He doesn't even move. Just watches him with that all-knowing gaze, still every inch the king even if he's pulled his kingdom out of himself and given it to another, no longer holding such tight control and instead waiting to see what his creation will do.

"What do you want of me?" he asks.

Corinthian leans down and kisses his god.

His lips are soft. He tastes of tea. Corinthian doesn't get smited by the heavens; no void swallows him whole. He digs his fingers into Morpheus's hair. Sweeps his tongue into his mouth, feels the pulse of blood against his thumbs.

Morpheus doesn't kiss back, exactly, but he does let Corinthian take what he needs from his mouth. And when Corinthian draws back with a nip at his lower lip, Morpheus's eyes are dark and heavy-lidded as if he has drawn some pleasure from it himself.

"I could destroy you," Corinthian murmurs, still close to his lips, even knowing that he could not. "Like this."

Morpheus gazes up at him. "Could you?"

His voice no longer echoes with the distant turning of planets, but Corinthian's being still resonates at its frequency. Perhaps it always will, even if he has a new master now. Corinthian wants him and he could have him, like this, he could debase his former god and make this human body his own; he knows how to bring ecstasy as much as he knows how to bring terror, and he could lay waste, could have Morpheus gasping and begging for it, could deliver his worship and rage at last and ruin him for human lovers. He thinks human Morpheus, hands off all reins, might even invite it. And Corinthian would have him after all of that chasing.

But Dream is gone. That Daniel kid doesn't matter. Corinthian's Dream is gone.

"What do I want from you?" he repeats. Hands still on Morpheus's jaw. "Let me go."

Morpheus smiles, and it's not the smile of a human, but of the creator of horrors and nightmares. It rings a bell of recognition in Corinthian’s ribcage, like calling to like, for all that there is no power in the connection anymore. "I have no leash on you."

Your existence is a hook in me, Corinthian thinks.

He kisses Morpheus again, a flat, chaste, but lingering kiss, then pulls back. When he does Morpheus's expression looks soft, human again, and it's unbearable.  

Corinthian steps back, releasing Morpheus's face. "You're supposed to be dead. Do me a favor, and finish the job."

He turns to go, but Morpheus catches him by the wrist. A light grip Corinthian could easily pull out of, but doesn’t, letting himself by held as much by the lump festering in his throat as by Morpheus’s fingers. "Corinthian."

“What.”

Morpheus kisses the underside of his wrist, a motion that feels both proprietary and beneficent. I don’t need your charity, you half-god thing, Corinthian thinks. He doesn’t pull away, but he also doesn’t look. If he doesn’t look, he can almost pretend that it is Dream kissing him, and that fantasy, that terror, is a well-worn path. If he pretends, then he doesn’t have to stumble through the feral woodland trail that is his king becoming human.

Morpheus’s lips are still brushing his skin when he says, “Even when you went astray, you were always my favorite."

Oh, fuck you, Morpheus, Corinthian thinks. How dare he say such a thing when he left. When he made himself human. When he unmade Corinthian for daring to try the same.

He pulls his hand from Morpheus’s grasp. Doesn't respond, or look back. Maybe he'll return, maybe he won't. Maybe he'll finish the job Morpheus started. Or the one he himself started, in daring to touch his lips.

For now, feeling only more jumbled up than when he arrived, he leaves the flat. Leaves Morpheus to his human life. And lets the door slam shut behind him.

#i'm not sure i quite landed on /exactly/ what i wanted with this #but i refuse to obsess any longer #corintheus #kinda #retired dream #dream of the endless #the corinthian #my writing

[delta-pavonis]

Night Rhythms Fic: Sympathetic Vibrations

banner artwork by the incomparable @ambarden

Read on AO3

Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 6.6k words Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dancer Dream, Drummer Hob, top Hob Gadling, bottom Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Established Relationship, Hob makes (another) dumb bet, no Endless can resist a wager apparently, Dream is a little shit, teasing through dancing, light D/s, masturbation, sex outdoors, cock ring, coming untouched, rimming, face sitting, anal sex, fucking with minimal lube, gags

“Dream,” he started to apologize, but again was interrupted. “I do not yet know how…” Dream’s voice was sharp as a razor. “...but I am going to make sure you both lose this wager.” And so here Hob is. Twenty-two days in. Twenty-two days without the pleasure of Dream's glorious, heavenly, perfect body. Twenty-two days without acting on the riot of emotions contained within him. He wants to crawl out of his skin. He has been driven to tears twice in the past three days alone. If it was only adhering to the bet with Epithumia that would be one thing, but with Dream actively working against him?  Hob is only human.

A billion thanks to my betas on this one, @moorishflower and @aralezinspace!!

#drummer/dancer au #dreamling drummer/dancer au #Dreamling #drummer!Hob #drummer Hob #dancer Dream #dancer!Dream #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #The Sandman AU #Pavonis writes

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fic] Use Your Words

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling (Hob x Morpheus) Rated: T Word Count: ~2500 Warnings: Mistletoe Notes: My first foray into this fandom. Be gentle; I may not have them quite right. It's been four years since last I wrote anything and I'm a bit rusty.  Many thanks to @virgo-dream for the beta!

Summary: Hob finds mistletoe hung in the bar. Dream is. Insistent. That they adhere to tradition.

On AO3

~~~***~~~ "Now where did that come from?"

'That' was a bright sprig of dark green leaves and waxy white berries, hanging innocently from a random low beam near the end of the bar, and Hob was very sure that he hadn't hung it there. Mistletoe was all well and good among friends and holiday parties and such, but putting it up in the pub where random strangers might happen beneath it in the middle of the afternoon, not so much. Bit of unneeded potential for harassment and Hob wasn't keen to invite that sort of trouble. He'd have to take it down post-haste and make sure his staff knew not to re-hang it.

Beside him, Dream blinked up at the little plant. "Mistletoe," he pronounced, in precisely the overly-casual tone of discovery one might use to imply one had just noticed something one had in fact already been aware of. "We. Would seem to be standing beneath it."

Hob frowned and peered up at the little sprig, which they were indeed now directly under when he was quite certain they hadn't been a moment ago. "…So we are." Which. Huh.

And didn't that set his nerves afire, just a little bit.

"We are meant to share a kiss, then, I believe?" Dream was staring at him now, intent and direct, the bare tilt of a question in his eyebrows.

And that set Hob's pulse racing, quite definitely, no 'little bit' about it.

"You know the tradition, then?" he hedged, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Dream favored him with a look that could have withered the greenery above them, and yes, right. Prince of Stories, entirety-of-the-collective-unconscious, all that. Holiday traditions surely fell within that purview.

Hob swallowed, nerves still singing a gloriously freaked-out tune over the drumbeat of his racing heart. Surely Dream was not expecting—

Dream was still looking at him, expectantly.

And it's not like Hob had any objections, of course! Not like he hadn't thought about the possibility of kissing Dream dozens of times, hundreds even—thousands perhaps, who was counting—but he'd never expected that Dream would suggest it first, under any circumstances, that it would ever be anything Dream could possibly want.

Was he reading things right?

He didn't think he was reading them wrong, but...well. Sure it'd been a hundred and thirty-odd years and there was certainly an openness to Dream these days that hadn't been there then, but "You DARE??" still haunted Hob on many levels and he'd rather not earn himself an encore. Especially not over a frivolous holiday tradition.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, aware of the heat in his face. "Okay but don't feel like you have to; there's no obligation." He glanced away, fiddled self-consciously with his earlobe. "I mean, it's just a silly tradition, not as if there's mistletoe police lurking about…"

Hob's dismissive rambling trailed off unconvincingly and Dream tilted his head a little, eyes narrowing the slightest bit.

"I would honor this tradition, Hob. Unless. Are you opposed?"

"Oh no! Not opposed, no." God, no, couldn't have him thinking that. "In that case then, ah, let me just—okay—" He leaned over and brushed a quick peck against the corner of Dream's mouth, quick enough to avoid the temptation of more, but not quick enough to avoid feeling the cool smoothness of Dream's skin beneath his lips in a way that would surely keep him awake long hours tonight.

Desperately trying to school his expression to 'normal' versus 'hopelessly besotted and dying to do that properly except I'm afraid of driving you off for another hundred years', Hob dared a glance at Dream's face. Which was…impassive as ever, with a hint of not-what-I-expected lurking in the downward tick of his mouth.

Wrangling his nerves, Hob flashed a grin and glanced up. "Can't forget to pick a berry, now, else people'll be stuck kissing under this forever—" What a completely inane thing to say, but he couldn't seem to quite get a handle on his tongue. At least none of the bar patrons were paying them any mind; they may as well have been alone for the lack of attention they were drawing.

The berry vanished from his grasp as soon as he'd plucked it, dissipated into nothingness, but that was to be expected, perfectly normal, right? He glanced at Dream to confirm and instead found himself watching transfixed as Dream reached up, pale, slender fingers caressing a waxy white berry of nearly the same shade, and Hob's fool mouth just kept running. "We don't both have to pick one, it's only, y'know, one berry one kiss—"

"I am aware." Dream cut him off and then, quite deliberately, pulled the little berry free of its stem. "But, as I wish to receive another kiss…" He was staring at Hob expectantly again.

Oh.

Still off-kilter, still not sure quite how this was actually happening but also still possessed of enough faculties to not question his good fortune just yet, Hob leaned in and pressed his lips softly to Dream's, full-on this time, lingering just a little. Dream tilted into it, moved his own lips in complement—and oh. Again. Hob shivered, a thrill of delight running effervescent down his spine, goosebumps blooming all along his arms.

He pulled back before he could let himself get lost in it, because getting lost in it would be so easy yet terribly unwise.

"Dream?" Now apparently was the moment to question, his mouth decided, to suss out what his (very dear) friend intended because surely, surely this couldn't be as straightforward as it was trying to appear?

But Dream was regarding him with something approaching consternation, mouth flat and eyes disbelieving; he reached up to pluck another berry, swift and precise, flicking it away to dissolve into thin air as he spoke. "Hob Gadling." He plucked another, and another, punctuating his next words sharply. "I would—" pluck "—have you—" pluck "—kiss me—" pluck "—properly."

Okay. However they'd gotten here, that was clear enough, and Hob wasn't waiting to be told again.

Dream met him halfway this time, fingertips lighting on his face to guide him properly-as-requested to Dream's mouth and Hob just went with it, tossed aside dozens of decades of caution and restraint and finally kissed Dream like he meant it. Dream made a tiny little sound, high and soft like a wish at long last granted and that was it. Hob threw his arms around Dream's skinny frame and Dream's hands tangled eagerly into his hair and they were kissing, kissing, kissing like they couldn't get enough and never mind the public setting.

Hob couldn't hear whether or not they were getting catcalls or wolf whistles, not over the thunder of his own pulse in his ears, and he couldn't have cared anyway because Dream was clinging to the curve of his skull, was kissing like he meant to devour him and Hob was one hundred percent down for it. He pressed himself flush against Dream, arms wrapped tight around him, feasting on Dream's ravenous intensity as the kissing went on and on.

Dream pushed forward and Hob followed his prompting, let Dream guide him one step back, two, and then they fetched up against the bar, the edge of the counter digging into Hob's spine. "Hob," Dream murmured, right against his lips, and Hob shivered at the way his name sounded in that voice at this moment. Dream was kissing down the line of his jaw now and Hob sighed, tilted his head up to offer his throat as well.

"God, is this really happening?" Running his mouth was going to be a continuing theme, apparently. "D'you have any idea how long I've dreamed about you, like this?"

Dream tucked his face into the arch of Hob's neck, breath soft against the skin there before he kissed, grazed it with sharp teeth. "Have you any idea, how long I have wished to do such things with you?"

"I—wait, no. Really?" Hob pulled back to look at him, but was caught instead by the silence of the pub around them. Was everyone staring; had they made that much of a scene?

No, as it turned out, because when Hob actually looked, he found that all the patrons had vanished and the pub itself was sort of washed over like watercolor, barely-there around the edges, an unfinished painting. Only the two of them and the beam hanging the mistletoe above them were in focus and fully rendered.

"Oh no, this is only—I'm dreaming, aren't I." He kissed Dream again anyway, absolutely crestfallen, remembering vanishing mistletoe berries and other unheeded anomalies that suddenly made sense. "You aren't even—this isn't real, is it, just my imagination. Again."

"I have told you, Hob, the Dreaming is as 'real' as the waking world."

"To you, I'm sure," Hob lamented, kissing him mournfully, speaking against his mouth, drawing the words across his cheek. "But are you actually here? Am I even going to remember this when I wake up?"

Dream paused at that, stepped back—stepped out of Hob's arms—and Hob ached at the sudden loss. Then, with an expression somehow equal parts annoyance, arousal, and apology, Dream reached up and pulled down the entire mistletoe sprig from overhead, made a quick horizontal gesture with his other hand. "This dream is over."

Hob startled awake, sprawled into the corner of his couch, disoriented for half a second at the abrupt change and scrambling madly to sit upright, to hold onto the threads of the dream. Because Dream had been in it, had all but demanded his kisses—and if he'd really been there—

His head jerked up toward a sudden shifting of displaced air across the room. Dream stepped into existence in a soft swirl of sand and stalked toward him, dropping the mistletoe sprig on the coffee table, swinging himself down to straddle Hob's lap with his knees snug against either hip. He pushed Hob back into the couch, looming over him in a way that had every bit of Hob paying very rapt attention.

Dream's hands smoothed over Hob's shoulders, as if to gentle a high-strung animal; ironic, that was, when Dream himself was held taut as a bowstring, so tense he was trembling with it.

Hob barely managed an almost-steady tone. "Not just a dream, then?"

Dream's eyes were boring into his with intensity, gone dark and starry. "Be assured, Hob. I would have this in the Waking as well as in the Dreaming. I would not have you…doubt, my affections—"

"Oh good," Hob croaked, and then both hands were buried in Dream's hair, mouth open and angling for Dream's, and Dream collapsed against him, melted into the kiss with a soft sound of relief that sent Hob absolutely soaring.

It was several moments before they drew apart, Dream's hands carding through Hob's hair now and Hob's at Dream's hips, keeping him settled close. Dream rested his forehead against Hob's, eyes fluttering shut, fingertips stroking gently against Hob's scalp. Hob shivered at the sensual touch, fragments of their dream encounter resurfacing while he caught his breath.

"How long, then?" He slid one hand gently up Dream's spine and back down.

"Long enough." Dream kissed him again, soft and eager. "Too long."

"You never said anything."

"Nor did you."

Hob slipped both arms around Dream's waist, underneath the galaxy-lined coat, giddy that he was allowed. "You were—I didn't think—clearly I'm an idiot, because here we are, but I couldn't imagine you taking kindly to my interest."

Dream drew back enough to study him, considering his words carefully. "I…would not have taken it kindly, before, no matter my own feelings. You are correct."

"But now?"

Dream kissed him again, fierce and insistent and sincere, a long moment of poured feeling before reining it in. "Much has happened, to alter my perspective." His lips brushed Hob's as he spoke and bloody hell but it was difficult for Hob to hold back when the promise of kissing him again was right there. He managed, though, because Dream wasn't done yet and Hob was desperately interested in what he had to say, actually.

Dream put a little more distance between their faces, held his gaze now, fingers still laced into his hair. "Hob. I would. Give you candor. I would have you know, the value I place on your friendship. I would express my regard for you in every way you will accept it."

"In any way. Every way. I'm yours. However you'll have me, whatever you'll allow." Hob was reasonably successful, he felt, at corralling his mental babbling into coherent speech. "I'm yours, Dream. I'm yours."

Affections. Regard. Bloody brilliant. He felt the radiant smile splitting his face and let it happen.

Dream kissed it as it blossomed, reverently, and Hob's heart ascended.

"I should like to kiss you more often, Hob Gadling," Dream declared then. "It is every bit the delight I had hoped it to be."

Hob was never coming back down to earth, was he. "Y'know, if you'd led with that and your pretty little speech instead of bleeding mistletoe, I would have been kissing you sooner?"

"It was meant to be…spontaneous, and whimsical." Both things that Dream was decidedly not, generally speaking, but Hob held his tongue. "The dreamers are currently…awash, in their various holidays and accompanying traditions. This tradition, in this season, seemed an opportune means to express my intentions."

'Intentions'. Wasn't that just a fine old-fashioned way of saying it.

Hob grinned wider, trying (and mostly failing, but trying, dammit) to keep the giddiness under control. "So…what you're saying is, you're my Christmas present?" It was a terrible joke. He couldn't help it.

Dream gave him a look halfway between askance and consideration. "…If you wish to view it as such, then…very well. I am your Christmas present."

Delighted, joyful, Hob leaned up and kissed him, because he could.

Dream straightened up a moment later, regal as anything never mind that he was still perched astride Hob's lap, and his well-kissed expression shifted into something mildly imperious. "It is customary to unwrap one's gifts when presented with them, is it not?"

Hob's brain stuttered, ground to a shuddering halt, full record-scratch Hob-dot-exe-has-stopped-working blue screen. Dream had allowed his terrible joke to stand, that was remarkable enough, but now he'd gone and turned it around and lobbed it back? Embellished it with innuendo, of all the impossible—?

He stared up at Dream, wide-eyed and tongue-tied. "Um."

Was he. Did he mean it?

Dream gave him a mildly unimpressed look, with a little curl of smugness underneath; he leaned back in, pressed himself close, grazed his rose petal lips across the shell of Hob's ear. The softest of sighs ghosted after, and then his voice, warm and dark and rich as velvet.

"Unwrap your present, Hob. That you may. Open it, properly."

Hob-dot-exe restarted with gusto; he didn't need to be told a third time.

All in all, it was a very merry Christmas indeed.

===== Started: 12/8/22

Drafted: 12/23/22

Posted: 12/25/22

#Dreamling #The Sandman #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #TJs Fics #it's 4:30pm Christmas here as I post this #still timely go me #Sandman

[morthyew]

i feel insane about rue/hob. the pining. the severity and starkness of their duties and how they come first over anything they could feel. the code of goblin chivalry being to go after what you want and the adherence to propriety being the breach. the wrist hold. the speaking to rue’s back. the hob not even really leaving to get the horn. the tenseness and true regency of the dynamics and the Acting TM. oscar’s whole deal. rue complimenting hob for what he considers his biggest fault… don’t touch me i’m emotional

#acofaf #d20 #acofaf spoilers #battlemaster of ceremonies #de la hob #(????? name of ship????)

[themirokai]

More Matthew the Emotional Support Raven? Don’t mind if I do! @mashumaru sent me this cute raven video, for which I am very grateful. She had tagged it Hob & Matthew (which totally tracks) but wanted to know if I could do a Dream & Matthew story with it. And I did! But it got a teensy tinsy bit angsty. Don’t worry, it ends as fluffy as the rest of these ficlets. 

There is one small detail from my “Shiny Things” ficlet in here. That one isn’t required reading but I do hope you’ll check it out if you haven’t already.

Huge thanks to the wonderful @argylepiratewd who has proofreading commissions open now! WD made this story so much better and they can do the same for your work. I highly recommend them for all your proofreading needs. Info here, check it out!

~~

Matthew hopped along beside Lord Morpheus as he strode through the Palace of the Dreaming. 

“So, we’re leaving now?” 

“We are not going anywhere, Matthew,” Lord Morpheus said from under his helm. “You are to remain in the Dreaming.” 

“What?!” Matthew stopped, then had to fly a few feet to catch up. “If you’re not staying in the Dreaming, then I’m not staying in the Dreaming.” 

“I frequently travel to the waking world without you.” 

“Yeah, to see your boyfriend, who I still haven’t met! And I know you’re not going for a hanky-panky session because you’re all suited up!” 

Lord Morpheus halted in his tracks and turned slowly to face Matthew. “A ‘hanky-panky session’?” 

Matthew was not about to let himself be sidetracked. “A date! A romantic tryst! Whatever! You’re not doing that because you’ve got all the finery and the spine mask!” He gestured with his wing to encompass the flowing black robe, the folds of which seemed structurally impossible. He noted with a little flare of pride that Lord Morpheus was wearing the sapphire Matthew had given him. 

Lord Morpheus sighed and went down on one knee, just as he had the first night Matthew had met him. He reached up to remove the helm and tucked it under his arm. 

“I am going to Faerie, Matthew. I do not need you to accompany me, nor do I wish it.” 

Matthew shifted from foot to foot and dropped his head, looking up at Lord Morpheus out of the corner of his eye. “Did I do something wrong?”  

“No.” Lord Morpheus chuckled and ran a finger over Matthew’s beak. “You have done nothing wrong. It is simply that this journey would not be safe for you.” 

“If it’s not safe, then all the more reason for me to come with you!” Matthew exploded with an unintentional flap of his wings. 

“Matthew—”

“Boss, I’ve been with you to literal Hell for you to fight literal Lucifer!”

“Yes,” Lord Morpheus said, with a small smile as he stroked Matthew’s beak again, “but when we went to Hell I was not at my full strength, and there was much more jeopardy to me than there was to you.” 

Matthew cocked his head. “Why would I be in jeopardy? Do faeries hate birds or something?” 

“The Faerie Court functions on a set of incredibly strict rules, Matthew. Failure to follow the rules to the exact letter can result in one’s bound servitude, imprisonment, or death.” 

Matthew involuntarily ruffled his feathers. 

“And you, my raven,” Lord Morpheus continued with a gentle tap to Matthew’s beak, “have many strengths, but adherence to rules is not among them.” 

“But—”

Lord Morpheus stood and put the helm back on. “I shall return in a few days, Matthew. You will help Lucienne keep an eye on things in the Dreaming for me while I am away.” He reached inside his robe for a handful of sand. 

Matthew couldn’t just let him go—not if he was only going alone because he thought Matthew couldn’t behave himself. With a flap of his wings, and before he could second guess himself, Matthew leapt and attached his beak to the index finger of Lord Morpheus’s free hand. He gripped hard enough to hang from the finger, but not hard enough to hurt. He hoped. He wasn’t even sure if Lord Morpheus could be hurt in the Dreaming.  

Slowly, Lord Morpheus raised his hand to bring the dangling Matthew up to his eye level. 

“You realize that you are rather spectacularly proving my point, Matthew?” 

“I hro’is I ‘e ‘oo’,” Matthew tried to pronounce around the finger. 

Lord Morpheus brought his other hand up and wrapped it around Matthew’s body, pinning his wings in place. He gave a firm tug, and Matthew released his finger. 

“Boss, I promise I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll follow the rules! Please, just don’t go alone.”

Lord Morpheus took a breath, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. “Matthew,” he said, voice reverberating more than usual, “I realize that when you first met me I was in an extremely vulnerable position. But I would remind you that I am older than the stars in the sky and infinitely more powerful. Such vulnerability was an aberration that shall not happen again. This means that if I tell you that I require that you stay in the Dreaming, then you shall stay in the Dreaming. Am I understood?” 

Matthew bowed his head, worry and guilt twisting his guts. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I overstepped.” 

Lord Morpheus stooped to put him down and drew a handful of sand from inside his robe as he straightened. “I shall return in a few days’ time.” 

With that, the sand swirled around him, and he was gone. 

--

“Lucienne, when you were a raven, did you ever go to Faerie with Lord Morpheus?” 

“Hm. Yes, a few times, I think.” She continued arranging books on shelves without looking at him. 

“And perfect Jessamy? She must have gone a bunch.” 

“Yes, of course. Why are you—oh.” Lucienne turned to him. “He didn’t take you.” 

“And he was being nice about it and then I was an idiot and grabbed onto his finger as he was leaving like a—like a—god, I don’t know. Like a fucking toddler or something!” Matthew felt his wings open in his agitation. “And he got pissed because anyone would but it’s him. I am such a fucking idiot.” 

Matthew threw himself down on the floor on his side and Lucienne crouched beside him. 

“How did you grab his finger?” she asked. 

“In my beak.” Matthew brought a wing up to cover his face. “Like a fucking idiot.” 

He heard a strangled sound and moved his wing to see Lucienne trying to stifle her laughter. 

“It’s not funny! He’s going to unmake me!” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Matthew,” she said, kindly. 

“It was so bad. Lucienne, I’m a failure as a raven. Just like I was a failure as a person.” 

“Enough of that,” she said, standing. “Come on, get off the floor.” 

Matthew groaned and covered his face with his wing again. “Maybe I can just sink into the wood and become part of the library.” 

“Matthew,” Lucienne said sternly, “get up. Now.” 

With an aggrieved sigh, Matthew hauled himself to his feet. She patted the back of a chair beside her, and with another sigh, Matthew flew up to it, so that he was nearly level with her eyes. 

“You are not a failure as a raven,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her glasses. “You are a modern raven, and you are the raven he needs now.” 

“But he can’t even take me out of the realm because I’d apparently be a danger to myself!” 

“He can’t take you to Faerie, but truly, he doesn’t need you there. He was concerned about your ability to adhere to all the rules, correct?” On Matthew’s nod, she continued. “Do you know who is better than anyone in this or any other universe at following rules?” 

“Lord Morpheus,” Matthew muttered. 

“That’s correct. He has had good relations with the King and Queen of Faerie for millennia. He really is not in any danger on this trip.” 

Matthew searched her face for sincerity and found it. If Lucienne wasn’t worried, he knew he didn’t need to be. Matthew took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Matthew, Lord Morpheus does not need a raven who can follow the strictures of Faerie at this point in his immensely long life. He needs a raven who can help him understand modern humanity. He was disconnected from the collective unconscious for over a century. He is out of touch, and he knows it. He’s gotten better in the time he’s been back, but he still needs assistance. He still needs you.”

“As long as he doesn’t unmake me for biting him,” Matthew grumbled. 

Lucienne rolled her eyes. “You didn’t bite him,” she admonished. “You tried to hold on to him. It was certainly foolish, but Lord Morpheus has spent enough millennia in the company of ravens to see the difference clearly.” 

Some of the worry began to fade from Matthew’s chest.

“He knows you love him, Matthew. And he cares for you, too.” 

Matthew gave a long exhale and thought of hours spent getting his feathers stroked. “Yeah…yeah, I guess.”  

--

Matthew was flying laps around the outside of the palace when his ears popped with a change in the barometric pressure. Lord Morpheus had returned to the Dreaming. The gravitational pull was immediate, but Matthew stopped himself from following it. He knew what Lucienne had said, but he still wasn’t sure what kind of reception he would get. Before he could dwell on the subject, an unmistakable voice sounded in his head. 

“Matthew. Attend me.” 

At least that was one decision he didn’t have to make. Matthew wheeled in the air, and rode the current of the Dreaming to Lord Morpheus. 

He found the King of Dreams seated on his throne. Matthew landed a few steps down from the top of the dais. He spread his wings and bowed. 

“My lord.”  

“That has never been necessary, Matthew, nor is it now.” 

Matthew ducked his head. “Thank you.” He took a breath and looked up. “I’m really sorry. About before you left. I was way out of line. I get that, and I want you to know it won’t happen again.” 

“I know that, Matthew. Jessamy was my raven for hundreds of years, as was Lucienne. You and I are still learning each other.” 

Lord Morpheus extended his hand, inviting Matthew to perch. 

“Come, Matthew.” 

Matthew landed with a few wing flaps. From his other hand, Lord Morpheus produced a loop of silver chain, about the size of a bracelet. The chain was intricately braided and sparkled in the shifting light of the throne room. 

“It’s beautiful,” Matthew breathed. 

“I traded a dream for it in Faerie. It is for you.” Lord Morpheus slipped the chain over Matthew’s head so that it sat around his neck. 

“Oh, Boss, thank you! I love it!” 

“It should be small enough to hide under your feathers when you are in the waking world.”

“Or I could make all the lady ravens swoon!” Matthew said, tilting his head to admire the silver against the black feathers of his chest. 

Lord Morpheus chuckled as he stood. “Come, Matthew,” he said, transferring the raven to his shoulder, “we have work to do.” 

“Yes, Boss!” Matthew cawed happily.

~~~~

UPDATE: This story has art now!

The detail of Morpheus bringing Matthew a gift came from @wyvernquill 's tags on this awesome art they did of the “Shiny Things” Emotional Support Raven ficlet. 

Master Post of Matthew the Emotional Support Raven Ficlets. 

As of posting, I am out of raven prompts. Have you seen a picture or a video of a raven? If you send it to me, I will use it to write a ficlet!

#matthew the emotional support raven #matthew the raven #dream of the endless #the sandman #the sandman netflix #lucienne #miro does sandman #mirokai writes

[citrina-posts]

brennan lee mulligan idk if you did this on purpose but the fact that captain (major) k.p. hob tries so hard to adhere to thomas hobbes’ theories in leviathan (not the pirate city lol)… the idea of the need to be subjugated and the inherent lack of free will… the fact that part of his nature is a lack of understanding of the chaos his court embodies… the desire for structure from a political power (courts) and the desire to serve the institution not for himself but for the good of the goblin reputation… the temptation of love (desire, APPETITE) being in direct opposition to these things… at the same time knowing that the institution (court of wonder) is wrong and has hurt others (rue, binx, andhera), not understanding that his own court is bad too because of the religion-like belief he has in it… like his name is HOB how can it not be intentional?? tell me why does a comedy dnd show have me ready to write a political philosophy dissertation

#im having THOUGHTS #its probably a stretch but let me have my college student moment ok #acofaf #k.p. hob #d20 #dimension 20 #a court of fey and flowers

[scifrey]

Keepsakes

Status: Ongoing Ficlet collection; unbeta'd

Series: the Hob Adherent series

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Includes some comics canon, and some cameos from the wider Gaiman-verse (including the Good Omens and Lucifer television shows), but it’s not necessary to know to enjoy the story.

Rating: Mature-ish.

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Some sexytimes. Some whomp and hurt/comfort.

Relationships:  Morpheus | Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling’s Wife/Hob Gadling (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Patrick the Bartender, Harriet Butler, Matthew the Raven

Summary: Short ficlets set in the Hob Adherent world, based on prompts received from readers. Feel free to DM me or leave prompts in the comments, and if it resonates with me, I may write up a ficlet! Thank you for the inspiration in advance.

Set amid the events of Cling Fast and Carpe Diem

READ ON AO3 OR READ BELOW:

Postcards

"So, a sword in Buckingham's army, a bandit, a printer, a shipwright and then a merchant middleman for the dockyards, a knight, a beggar, investment broker--"

"Slaver," Hob interrupts Harriet as she counts off his professions on her fingers one slow, sunny afternoon at The New Inn. "Call the thing what it was."

Hari offers him a sympathetic smile. They're the only ones in the pub proper today, as Patrick is off to tend his ailing mother, Dee doesn't come in Mondays, and Morph is having lunch with his editor.

"After which you were an MP and staunch abolitionist, a soldier again in America for the North, an industrialist and labor rights advocate, a yuppie and silicone valley early adopter--"

"Apple paid for most of this," Hob agrees, selecting a glass and checking it for water spots or lipstick stains.

"--and now a professor and publican. Am I missing any?"

“Oh!” Hob remembers as he pulls a pint for her. "And I was ruler of Hell."

She leans across the bar from her stool, and thwacks his arm. “Fuck off, you were not, you old liar,” Hari laughs.

"Was so!" Hob protests, setting her beer down in front of her. "Ask my husband. He was there. I was ruler of Hell for thirteen minutes and seventeen seconds on my six-hundred and sixty-sixth birthday."

Hari raises a challenging eyebrow at Hob over her pint glass as she takes a sip. "I won't believe a thing the Prince of Stories tells me," she says decisively, when she sets the beer back down. "And I don't believe you."

Hob pulls a postcard from L.A. off the bar back, where it's been pinned to a corkboard among a handful of others, all from the same city. This card depicts a cartoon devil drawn over a photo of the Hills, lounging on the iconic Hollywood sign. It says "Greetings from Sin City!" in bright yellow font.

Hob hands it to Hari to inspect. Her face gets drawn as her eyes flick over the handwritten note on the back.

"To my fellow former ruler of Hell; I did it! I opened a nightclub, just like you suggested. Visit me at LUX any time you'd like, Hobsie. xxx Lucifer Morningstar," Hari reads in a voice that grows increasingly strangled.

She hands the card back to Hob with trembling fingers. Then she shotguns the rest of her pint.

"So hell is real, then," Hari warbles.

Hob shrugs. "Everything is real. Humans create gods, not the other way around. If someone believes in it, it exists."

Hari nods thoughtfully. "I suppose you would know, being married to a god."

Hob chuckles. "Well, former god-ish. And don't worry, only people who believe they deserve to go to Hell actually do. Self-punishment or fulfilling prophecy, or something. I try not to think to much about that Celestial stuff."

Hari nods again, and without asking, Hob refills her pint glass. He has a feeling she's going to need it.

"But it is something I'm going to have to worry about," Hari says softly, accepting the drink with a nod.

"Not any time soon, I hope," Hob says, folding his arms on the bar top and leaning close to offer her a comforting look. "And when it does happen, I can promise you that my sister-in-law is gentle and kind. You have nothing to worry about."

Harriet runs her arthritis gnarled finger up and down the side of the glass, collecting up the condensation. "You know, that is actually a comfort." She looks up at Hob with a wicked little grin. "Especially knowing your husband."

Hob throws his head back and laughs.

#losyark #cling fast adjacent #cling fast #carpe diem #the hob adherent series #hob adherent #hob gadling #hob x dream #dream x hob #dreamling fic #dream #dreamling #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #gaimanverse #sandman hob #retirement!Dream #keepsakes

[jesuisnilunnilautre]

I desperately need Hob and Rue to be together. Two people, bound by duty, saying "oh we musnt" and then they do!

AND THEN THEY DO!!!

my god. i saw a post talking about how that scene was so emotionally charged that it didn’t even register to the op as romantic because they were so caught up in the implications of self and desire and transformation and the pressures of responsibilities but that’s like. Why i found the scene as romantic as i did

because they want things other than their duties! and they can find that in each other!!!

‘you have a deep sense of honor and trust’ ‘i know, im working on it’ ‘no no, these are good things. for me, these are good things.’

AND YOU CAN SEE IN HIS FACE that he WANTS to be GOOD! for THEM!!! like he’s tried so hard to reconcile with all of these traits within himself - like trust, and honor, and order, and duty - which are such a perfect antithesis to his entire court. like brennan said, there’s such a dissonance between adhering so completely to a code dedicated entirely to having no code - the goblin court is simply chaos. and here rue is, giving him permission to be what he has only known as wrong and saying no, this is not an incorrect thing to be, this is something that is desirable and good and that i like.

and not only that, RUE IS HAVING THESE FEELINGS TOO!!! like, the good captain stumbled accidentally across their feelings of unbelonging, of the pain they feel by being the Master Of Ceremonies but never someone to enjoy the merrymaking which they put so much effort into making merry. like, during the whole conversation hob and rue have with wuvvy, rue is so actively delighted to be not only conspiring with someone, but to be of help in a way that they never get to be, too busy being of use.

and us as viewers only understand how much it meant to them when hob sees it for himself! because they’re seeing each other!!!

i’m going to fucking vomit these two are so GOOD

anyway.

petition to name rue x hob beauty and the beast

#you catching feelings baby? #i felt that in REAL LIFE #dimension 20 #a court of fey and flowers #battlemaster of ceremonies #beauty and the beast #d20 acofaf #d20 kp hob #d20 delloso de la rue #big tiddy brennan lee mulligan #i need sexy help

[avelera]

Hob Gadling... 21st Century Translator to the King of Dreams?

Not sure if this is a plotbunny or a headcanon but... man I was having some discussions about how Hob like Dream would have spent most of his life believing in the Divine Right of Kings and how actually, Hob would be more sympathetic than derogatory towards Dream for being maybe a century or two out of date on the latest, cutting edge societal thinking post-imprisonment, and now I am thinking about Hob on the down-low becoming Dream's 21st century translator.

Like, Dream has missed 106 years and it's kind of embarrassing, it's hard to reconstruct all of that just from dreams too, especially since not many people are alive from that whole stretch of time and he'd basically have to dig through archives...

SO ANYWAY, what if they meetings become a sort of stealthy tutoring session for Dream? With Hob actually being super sympathetic to Dream being a king who doesn't maybe want to reveal how out of touch he is post-imprisonment, and who better than a history teacher to catch him up or at least be available whenever he has a question?

And along those lines things like "Ok but kings can't just stop being kings??" (ie, "I can't ever given up this burden of being Endless, my only choice is self destruction and letting a successor take over??") as a question from Dream and Hob being actually EXCITED and SUPPORTIVE instead of dismissive or going all "down with the monarchy" on Dream's ass because his subjects don't have free will (because Dream doesn't think HE does either! And surely that has to count for something, especially if he's trying to be better??).

So Hob actually sitting Dream down and explaining "You know, I was born a peasant, and I thought so too! But let me walk you through how thought has changed on that count, and why, and why some people find it offensive today, because it was crazy for me too to look back and one day realize everyone had just agreed almost overnight that Kings are just Normal Blokes and maybe we shouldn't have them anymore!"

IDK I feel like I've seen one end of the spectrum in fic which is like... politics and history and what Dream has missed just doesn't come up, except as the occasional joke, and on the other end of the spectrum there's Dream being a monarchist (obviously, he's a monarch) and that just setting Hob off and Hob getting angry and lecturing Dream on the past century of thought that he missed out on (and to be fair was already pretty behind the times on to begin with!).

But I've never really SEEN (doesn't mean it doesn't exist!) history teacher Hob being EXCITED and SUPPORTIVE about getting the chance to explain to another immortal (and one he cares about!) how things have changed and how exciting it is and how certain fundamental assumptions he ALSO spent most of his life adhering to can suddenly change and then vanish as if they never existed except as relics? And maybe Dream actually responding well, if shyly at first, to someone who is willing to discretely educate him on what he missed, instead of just berating him or side-eye him for not already knowing these things because he was IMPRISONED? (And unwilling to change before that but also IMPRISONED?)

#dreamling #the sandman #sandman meta #plotbunny free to a good home if anyone wants it?? idk

[igotanidea]

The Raven's daughter part 11

I know, I know. You waited long for this. But I'm back and truly it was exhilarating to remind myself how nice it is to write this story and how much fun comes from it.

previously: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9 (catching up is highly recommended)

masterlist

Part 11

Hob.

„You two can come out now. I see you sneaking there!” YN called her friends as she emerged from the classroom

“Oh, hey YN.” Sarah casually flicked her hair “didn’t see you there.”

“Mhm, right. What the hell were you two thinking?!”

“I don’t know. What exactly were we thinking Kat?”

“Hmmm, dinner?” the other friend tapped her chin, wondering

“Oh, stop playing dumb. You set me up. You wished for me to meet with Hob Gadling. By accident, of course.”

“so you are already on a name basis?” Kat squealed happily “that’s wonderful news!”

“KAT!” Sarah mad-dogged her

“Sorry.”

“Don’t mind her little outburst YN. It’s all for your own good, you know you can’t be alone all the time.”

“Oh my god, Sarah” YN rolled her eyes “out of everyone in the world I thought you to be the feministic, women-empowerment type. You know I don’t need a man and all that jazz. What happened?”

“I….. might have met someone…..”

“Prey tell! How long has this been going on?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“why didn’t you tell us?” Kat was shocked at Sarah’s confession

“Because I know you both. I knew how you would react.”

“And how exactly is that?” YN crossed her arms

“You YN would just brush it off, not asking anything thinking it’s my private matter and Kat, quite the opposite, would bombard me with questions. Besides, I am still a strong supporter of woman’s right and independence. But sometimes, sometimes….. It’s worth to give up control for a while.”

“He must be really special.” YN stated simply

“He is” Sarah blushed slightly “but honestly, I’d rather focus on you now. Come on. Let’s grab something to eat and discuss where are you going to meet with professor Gadling and what are you going to wear.”

“Oh no, not this again” YN moaned being dragged towards the cafeteria, each of her friend picking her other hand to make sure she wouldn’t be able to escape.

***

“Boss?”

“What is it this time Matthew?” of late Dream mental state was somewhere between bored and constantly annoyed and it all reflected in his tone.

“Permission to visit my daughter?”

“You ask my permission now?”

“I figured it’s safer this way.”

“Why?” Morpheus was a bit taken aback by the Raven’s word. Safer? In Dream Lord opinion it was appropriate or justified or fair to ask King’s acceptance of action, but this adjective was a bold choice.

“Why?” Matthew cawed in surprise tilting his head “cause you can be pretty scary sometimes. And I want to keep seeing my girl.”

“Good.” Morpheus hummed. Deep inside him there was a bit of fear he was going soft. But if it all stemmed from  being frightened of his fury it was acceptable. 

“So…. May I?”

“Yes. We shall go together. I have a job for you in the Waking after all.”

“But….”

“No buts, Matthew. You shall comply” Morpheus eyes darkened a bit, and even despite the fact Matthew knew Dream Lord would not hurt him it was safer to adhere to the command.

They arrived at the Waking at the evening, just as planned.

“Now, we shall execute our plan.”

“Well that doesn’t sound omniscient at all, boss.”

“You Matthew, shall go gather some information.”

“What sort of information?”

“I need you to find my sister.”

“You want me to seek Death?” this sentence couldn’t have sounded more ridiculous if Matthew had still been human.

“Yes.”

“What for, if I may ask.”

“To ask her about your wife.”

“My…. Wait, what?”

“This …. Situation we are in has something to do with your daughter’s mother.”

“I still don’t understand”

“I could not find a word about her in my books therefore we shall find out if she’s still a dreamer in this world or rather walking on the other side. If anyone shall know that, it would be my sister.”

“Oh.....” that seemed a bit too much for the Raven’s stability. His existence has been a mess for quite a while now. Dying, turning into a bird, becoming a companion of a Dream Lord, visiting Hell, being a resident of the Dreaming, meeting his daughter in the other form and now this. Confronting his past and maybe finding some missing answers. Matthew wasn’t sure if he wanted to rake the past over.

“Matthew?”

“Sorry boss. It’s just a lot But I can take it. It’s all right.”

“I am sure it is Matthew. It’s only right to get closure.”

“Look who’s talking.” Matthew mocked “you didn’t really get closure from …..”

“ Matthew….” The warning tone of the boss was enough to make him stop ranting

“Ok, all right. I’m going. “ he spread his wings not even trying to hide irritation “Where shall I find Lady Death?”

“She’ll come, just keep your instincts sharpen. You’ll feel her.”

“Right…..” the bird took off and Dream moved towards the house of his daughter, now dealing with his own mission.

***

“Oh, it’s you” Sarah opened the door and eyed Morpheus up and down “what do you want?” her confidence and straightforwardness was something Dream was not used to.

“Watch your tone, mortal. I came to talk to YN.”

“Mortal? Oh, little do you know, Dream Lord…..” she smirked

“Who are you?” Dream’s gaze became colder in an instant. If this one was something more than human he would know. So how come he felt nothing supernatural coming from her.

“That is not of your concern, King Morpheus. At least for the time being ……”

“Sarah!” another girl came to the sight “can’t you be nice for a change. There’s no need to start a war standing on the threshold…”

“You should listen to your friend. You don’t want a disagreement with me.”

“I beg to differ” Sarah hissed.

The tension was almost visible and physically hurtful. Dream Lord and Sarah (if that was even her real name) was staring at each other ready to put up a fight if needed none of them willing to back out and surrender.

“Guys….” Kat, who was naturally more easygoing than her friend looked at one and then the other trying her best to mitigate the raising conflict “please, not the time and not the place…..”

“You are right, girl” Dream spoke turning gaze to Kat. “where is YN? I shall talk to her immediately.”

“Not on my watch. Besides, she’s not here. “

“Do not strain my patience”

“Come on, Sarah,  what’s the worst thing that can happen?” Kat nudged her friend, who was still resistant to giving any information away. “She’s at the meeting. At the Inn.”

“At the Inn?” Morpheus was suddenly hit with realization and before any of the girl said one more word he was gone in the cloud of sand.

“What did you do?” Sarah shook her head in disapproval.

“You know it’s how it was meant to be.” Kat became uncharacteristically serious “you can’t stop what’s coming.”

“don’t start with all the destiny bullshit on me, Kat.”

***

Meanwhile, YN arrived at the Inn where she was supposed to meet with Hob. She was early, she always was, and this left her wondering whether she should wait inside or just take a bit of a walk and pretend that she arrived later than in reality.

“YN!” she was saved by Hob’s appearance “are you waiting here for long?”

“no” she flashed a smile “barely arrived, don’t stress it.”

“I am terribly sorry. I tend to lose track of time when I mark the student’s work. Shall we?” he opened the door and let her walk first.

“I know the feeling” she smiled “but are we going to discuss work?”

“No” Hob laughed wholeheartedly and it literally lighted up the whole room, making YN smile softly. He really was a nice man. “I got a couple more interesting topics ahead, but I think we should order first. My treat.”

“Hm. If that’s the case I might reconsider my choice.”

“I don’t think that’s the place that offers sea food or caviar.”

“You think I’m that kind of girl? Well then, sorry to disappoint but I’m rather fond of simplicity than extravagance.”

“Seems like another thing we have in common.”

  They both ordered their simple food and indulged in conversation. It was nice surprise for the girl that they truly had similar sense of humor and comparable approach to many things. During an hour-long talk they covered so many different topics starting from literature and history up the pop culture, comics and movies and now, somehow, moved to the topic of the universe and it’s mysteries. Given her latest experience in the area YN decided to play a wild card.

“Do you think that we are alone in the universe?”

“Are you mocking me now? You sound like one of those crazy scientist who believe in reptilians and succubus theory” Hob laughed again

“I wouldn’t go that far, but….. don’t you think there must be something more than what we see with our eyes and experience with our senses?”

If only she knew…..

“I do. I mean…  universe is vast and there are surely some wonders that can’t be understand simply by using brain and ….. Oh, my god!” Hob’s eyes widened as he fixed his gaze on something behind YN’s back

“What’s wrong?” the girl quickly turned around and immediately got the same reaction as no one else but Dream Lord was now standing next to their table.

“Aren’t you a bit early?” Hob asked

“What are you doing here?” she said at the same time and both humans just looked at each other

“You know him?” she spoke first

“Vaguely. You?”

“Pretty much the same….. But….. how?”

“I should be asking you that. It’s …. Long story. You wouldn’t believe it.” How could he even begin describing his centuries-long life to this girl

“Believe me, my worldview has expanded significantly in the last couple days.”

“Hob Gadling. YN YLN. How surprising to see you two so well acquainted.”Hob smirked sensing just the tiniest indication of jealousy in his voice and that made him wonder who was this girl.

“We’re just getting there.” He said. “I think we still have some mysteries to share, but going in the good direction, what do you think YN?” Hob grabbed her hand and she was shocked at first but quickly picked up on the joke.

“Of course, dear Hob. Like you said – a couple more information and we will be best friends.”

Dream did his best to keep cool, cold and unemotional but they knew that wasn’t true.

“I require immediate talk with you, YN.”

“You seem fairly desperate.”

“Stop teasing him, YN. From what I know he may leave you for a century and being stubborn as he is won’t ever show up…..”

“Century? What do you mean century? Hob! Is there anything you would like to tell me? Like, right now?!”

“Um….” He hesitated realizing he said too much

“ You hypocrite!” she smacked his hand “I’ve just asked you if you believed in something bigger than what we see, you hedged and now you give me that sort of revelation? How old are you exactly?”

“YN…..”

“How. Old. Are. You?”

“That’s a bit rude question to ask….”

“HOB!”

“I lost count at some point, but I guess, somewhere around 660….”

“I can’t believe it…. And I thought I was special by being the daughter of his Raven and forming some metaphysical connection…..” she blabbered

“What?!”

“Ups….” Now clearly she spoke too much

“That is enough. Both of you. I’m done with your little banter, gossiping and …. and …. Friendliness….” Dream really did have enough “you are coming with me” he motioned for the girl “Now.”

“sorry, Hob. You see what I have to deal with….” She sighed standing up

“First-hand experience.”

“See you at the uni? Hopefully at the time where I get my students back.”

“You think they would like to get back to you after all my classes.”

“I hate you Hob Gadling” she grinned

“No, you don’t .”

“YN!” Dream was short on the patience.

““Ok, all right. I’m going!” YN threw her hands up in exasperation being so similar to her father in this little gesture and followed Dream out the inn.

 

 @marvelsmylife @wickedly-grim @mind-of-a-girl @thereeallink @lisacarolined @boofy1998 @endlessdreamqueen @mikariell95 @shadowluna25 @sippysthoughts @kaoriloveskeiff @venomsvl @annievvv7 @somest1 @pinksirensong @somest1

#the sandman #sandman #morpheus x reader #sandman x oc #morpheus #the sandman imagine #morpheus x oc #morpheus fanfiction #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x oc #dream x oc #dream lord #dream lord x oc #the sandman netflix #lord morpheus #lord morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #matthew the sandman #matthew the raven

[queerofthedagger]

Spaces Wearing Your Name

[Dream/Hob | 1,6k | Teen+ | no warnings]

Tags: Established/Developing Relationship, Lazy Mornings, Cuddling, Religious Symbolism, Fluff & a tiny bit of Angst

Summary:

Hob is a long line of heat along Dream’s back, October rain pattering softly against the windows, and Dream pushes back against him, tugging Hob closer, closer still. He knows, without a fissure of doubt on a random Sunday morning, according to a calendar that his own world does not adhere to, that he does not care what the Fates decree; he will not give this up. That he can’t. “Hey,” Hob murmurs, shifting until he can look over Dream’s shoulder. “You are thinking very loudly.” Dream can’t help but huff at that, amusement curling through his chest. “And what is it that you are hearing of my thoughts, dear lover of mine?” --- A rainy morning in bed finds Dream reflecting on his and Hob's relationship, and all that he would be willing to risk for the sake of keeping Hob's stubborn human heart beating. Spoiler: just about anything.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream x hob #the sandman fic #sandman fic #mona's writing #this isn't even what I *meant* to post first it just wouldn't leave me alone while I'm *still* writing the other one #also me? fluff?? apparently

[tj-dragonblade]

Fic Masterpost - Dreamling

In honor of Dreamling Week, here is a handy masterpost of everything I've written for them so far. If you only have time for one right now, I'll recommend starting with the one in purple

Use Your Words Rated T, ~2500 words Hob finds mistletoe hung in the bar. Dream is. Insistent. That they adhere to tradition.

Old Acquaintance Rated G, ~800 words It’s New Year’s Eve at the New Inn, and Dream and Hob are on the same page

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: velvet Rated G, 165 words One of Hob's favorite things about Dream

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: memory Rated G, ~230 words Dream is distracted by a memory

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: thread Rated G, ~200 words Hob loves his grey hair

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: daydream Rated T, ~800 words Hob's daydreams are not the only distracting ones

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: enthusiasm Rated G, ~200 words Enthusiasm is one of Hob's defining traits

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: trust Rated T, ~1500 words Dream finds Hob cooking for him (aka The Spicy Omelettes one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: grass Rated G, ~330 words A date in Fiddler's Green

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: fireplace Rated G, ~170 words Generic hearth metaphor

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: strong (as a starting point) Rated T, ~3400 words Dream helps a drunken Hob get home (aka The Drunken Confessions one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: teach Rated T, ~520 words Dream teaches Hob how to summon him; self-immolation discouraged

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: vague Rated M, 465 words Sometimes Dream is speaks vaguely. Sometimes he is Very Direct

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: glasses Rated T, ~330 words The Hob In Glasses one

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: yesterday Rated G, ~470 words The Time Works Different in the Dreaming one

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: recovery (as a starting point) Rated T, ~2900 words Dream is dating; Hob works hard to just be a good friend while watching it fall apart (aka The Thessaly Breakup one)

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: snack Rated E, ~1800 words Hob comes home to find Dream waiting from him in the traditional murder-widow robe

Fluffbruary 2023Prompt: friend Rated T, ~1800 words Dream contemplates friendship, Hob, and the blurring of boundaries

In the Morning Light Rated T, ~1960 words Dream visits Hob on a rainy morning

Built For You Rated E, ~820 words Hob questions Dream on some particulars of his waking world anatomy

Insatiable Rated E, ~3100 words Dream gets rimmed and railed within an inch of his life

**You can also find me HERE on AO3**

#DreamlingWeek2023 #TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #dreamling week 2023 #masterpost

[booksonlyburninhell]

Dating Dream

Gn!readerxDream of the Endless

Notes: just a quick headcannon of how I think dating our Emo Endless Boy would go.

It was difficult at first. More of an experiment on Dreams part, to see what being close to a human was really like. Destiny’s idea. But he grows close to you rather quickly given the circumstances. You’re just so real with him. You can read him like no other, and at first it spooked him. He was too prideful to admit it, but he secretly loved how you read him. Only Destiny and Death could ever speak in those silent looks like that, but then you came along and read him like a book.

For the longest time the closest intimacy you two shared was the occasional hand holding. He was often busy so you only went on walks when he needed some fresh air, and that’s when he quietly takes your hand in his. He’s seen other couples doing it, well, more specifically he’s seen you noticing. It was an act of kindness that he ended up enjoying himself.

Your first kiss caught him by surprise. It was a peck on the cheek, just a quick action as you left him for the night. He was in your dreams, as he often visited there most often. A quick peck, and then you were gone, leaving him to stare into nothing for hours. It took him a full day of doing nothing to process what had happened, and to realize he’d liked it.

He was a complete cat boyfriend after that, downright demanding affection through kissing and cuddles. He still kept the relationship private though, or at least never explicitly told anyone about it. You’d go out in public enough times in the waking world for a passerby to know you were together, but nothing more. Kisses and sex, however, he kept private at all costs. Only when he knew you two were alone would he ever initiate either. He preferred doing them in the dreaming, where he could order people away from his quarters for hours at a time. And he does keep you close to him for hours at a time, like with Hob, he prefers his socializing to be done in large chunks over a period of time. To that extent not hearing from Dream for days on end is also normal, but he always returns with a lustful fever.

NSFW content ahead:

Sex was another experiment. Dream had wandered into one too many erotic fantasies to ignore the prevalent weight humans placed on physical intimacy. The first time was all you really. He’d had sex before, but understanding what someone wanted wasn’t his strong suit, nor was knowing what the modern lover wanted from him. And at first sex had been just as restricted as anything else was. He’d only ever engage when he knew you wouldn’t be interrupted, and only ever in specific places.

The throne for example was off limits at first, even for kisses. It was a place of work and so it wasn’t a place for you to be. But beyond all that Dream hated the idea because of how large the room was. He just felt so exposed, and it was harder to secure privacy in the throne room anyway. The idea of someone walking in on their king in such a vulnerable state terrified him. And he was completely vulnerable during and after sex. He often cried afterwards, so emotionally and physically spent that all he could do was cry. He’d talk after calming down, tell you about his day with his head resting on your shoulder or nuzzled into your neck.

He’s still prideful mind you, and so when he finally does fuck you on his throne something snaps. He’s spent so long adhering to every rule he knows that bending one he’s sort of made up himself: no mixing work and pleasure, feels liberating and naughty. He loves it. Dream gets off on fucking you on the throne. He loves pinning you to a symbol of his power and bringing you both to your peaks. It’s still a delicate balance though, with that threat of getting caught still pulling at him. So throne sex doesn’t happen often.

At first he’d been the top, doing his best to do what he though you wanted, and truth be told enjoying the sense of control he had. Dream is constantly trying to uphold what rules he and others have put in place, to be the king he was made to be. Everything changed the first time you’d had stress sex. It had started with standard cuddling, then a make out session with you in his lap, then you on top for the first time. He’d be lying if he said he hated it. In fact Dream loved you on top, he loved letting go and being taken care of. Sex with him changes with who’s on top. When he’s on top it’s more rough and desperate, but when you’re on top he’s more intimate, holding you close and feeling you in every way possible. More rolling hips and soft kisses than anything else. He loves cockwarming, and if he could have you on his lap at all times he would.

Most often it’s in a bedroom Dream had made in the palace. You’d put specific effort into making it an oasis for him, since Dream himself couldn’t dream or have nightmares. When he chooses to sleep it’s more like a black void. His bed reflects this, with sheets that are heavy like velvet but move like silk, all shifting black and purple masses. He doesn’t sleep often, not until the one day when you woke him up with kisses. Since then he sleeps in until you wake him or he has something genuinely pressing he has to deal with.

While it takes a long time to get Dream comfortable with dating, once he’s fallen for you there’s no going back.

#dream of the endless #the sandman #datingDream #romance #oneshot #dream x reader