#can't even tell you how much fun it is to have HOB be the one whose a weird creature

[cuubism]

tormenting dreamling in all new ways in my wip fic about kelpies. get horsed, hob. get shot with a gun, hob. fall in love with a creature that kind of wanted to eat you, dream.

[littledovesnow]

pretty

Request: oh hi! i'm so happy to hear that you're writing fluffy fics for coryo! i need more of this kind of content and i just read your fic and i loved it! could i request a peacekeeper!coryo fic where reader is lucy gray's best friend and she has a crush on coriolanus but gets terribly shy around him like she can't look at him in the eyes, he's just too pretty (she's just like me), lucy gray knows this and makes fun of her while trying to get them close to each other. then one day they go to the lake (just like the scene in the movie) and coryo sits by her side and she's like freaking out on the inside and he asks her if he did anything wrong or something bc he already noticed that she goes silent around him and reader starts talking very nervous about it and admits that she finds him very pretty meanwhile coryo just finds everything so extremely cute? the ending is up to u 💓 sorry if this is too long!

a/n: is this good because i don't know how to write a district!reader (don't even get me started on the Appalachia accent i am doing my ancestors DIRTY)

-----

You laughed at Maude Ivory as she flounced in the water, blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

You and the rest of the Covey had decided to spend the day at the lake, wanting to soak in the warm weather as much as you could before heading to the Hob for an evening of singing.

“You gonna sing that new song I’ve heard you working on every night?” Lucy Gray asked, turning her head to look at you, knowing smile on her face.

Flushing red, you shrugged at the brunette. “Not sure. I don’t know if it’s well and finished yet.”

Lucy Gray hummed, turning back to let the sun’s rays hit her face, eyes closed. “Sejanus said he and Coriolanus would be there tonight, and I think the song is wonderful. Wasn’t sure if you wanted to sing it in front of the muse.”

You chuckled, pulling at the grass around you. “And just how do you know who the song’s about?”

It was Lucy Gray’s turn to chuckle, sitting up and focusing her attention on you. “We’ve been best friends for ages, I can tell when you’ve got your eyes on someone.”

“I-”

“Someone who I know has some pretty strong feelings for you, too.”

Shaking your head, your gaze was deadest on the ground beneath you. “Not possible, why would someone like him take any interest in a woman like me? Don’t forget, Lucy Gray, you may have won the Hunger Games, but we’re all still district. I doubt he even sees me as a person.”

Frowning, Lucy Gray chewed on her lip. “Coriolanus doesn’t think like that. Sejanus is from District Two, and he doesn’t think less of him.”

You sighed, knowing Lucy Gray wouldn’t put this to bed unless you relented. “If I sing my little ballad tonight, will you finally stop trying to set us up?”

Lucy Gray agreed, playful smirk on her face. “Only because he’s going to love it.”

-----

Coriolanus dawdled behind his bunkmates, fiddling with his dog tags as a few handfuls of Peacekeepers made their way to the liveliest barn in all of District 12.

He smiled as he heard Maude Ivory take the stage, eyes traveling around the band to see if he could find you.

“Going to finally nerve up and ask her out tonight?” Sejanus asked, settling into the stool next to his friend.

He snapped his head towards the Plinth boy, who wore a lively smile. “What?”

Sejanus nodded his head towards where you were currently talking to Lucy Gray, both wearing colorful skirts. “Lucy Gray, I always see you watching her while she’s singing. It’s obvious, I’ve seen it since you were her Mentor.”

Coriolanus was tempted to correct his friend on the name, having had a talk with Lucy Gray after her victory, both settling on the fact that there were no real romantic feelings, instead the two had agreed to remain friends so long as Coriolanus was in the District.

“Alright, this next one’s a new number!” Lucy Gray commanded the stage like no other, introducing you. “I’ve been listening to this one while it was being written, and I have to say y’all, it’s one of my favorites!”

You took a deep breath, smile on your face as you began to strum the guitar, voice carrying to all corners of the Hob.

Coriolanus was mesmerized, eyes never leaving your figure as you crooned, face heating up as you two made eye contact, frowning as you quickly averted your gaze to another area of the room.

It was a common occurrence whenever you two had met each other’s eyes, you were often quick to look away and rarely look back in his vicinity again.

At first he wondered if his Peacekeeper uniform was the cause of it, but after seeing him in more casual clothing, you still reacted the same when he looked at you.

You finished your song, introducing Barb Azure before disappearing to the small shed that the Covey used a backstage area.

Lucy Gray gave your hand an encouraging squeeze as she passed you, walking over to her former mentor. “How’s Peacekeeping treating you?”

Coriolanus shrugged, not wanting to go into detail about his work. “Mostly just patrol and catching those damn birds.” He was still in a one-sided fight with the mockingjays and jabberjays.

“Well, we’re going to the lake tomorrow. Wanted to see if you and Sejanus would be interested in joining?”

“The lake?” Coriolanus asked, he wasn’t familiar with a lake within District 12’s limits.

Nodding, Lucy Gray looked back as she heard Barb Azure finish her song. “Just outside of the forest, meet at my place tomorrow and we can all go down together.”

Coriolanus mulled the thought over as he was once again left to his own devices, hand going back to fiddling with the dog tag on his neck.

-----

“You what?” You asked, pulling a ratty pair of shorts over the makeshift bathing suit you had on.

“I invited Coriolanus and Sejanus. They’re my friends, thought they deserved a day at the lake, too!” Lucy Gray acted innocent, though there was an evil glint in her eye.

“D’you think they’ll go swimming?” Maude Ivory asked, eyes light with the prospect of swimming.

You ignored the young girl, instead following Lucy Gray out back to gather some berries for a picnic basket. “You didn’t think to run this by everyone? They’re Peacekeepers, Lucy Gray.”

“They’re Peacekeepers because of me.” She replied, voice void of emotion. “And besides, didn’t think you’d be so against wanting to spend the day with Coriolanus.”

You wanted to reply, wanted nothing more than to scream that there was never going to be anything between you and Coriolanus, but you refrained, knowing Lucy Gray did have a point, and the two men did deserve a day away from their co-Peacekeepers.

Finishing gathering things for the basket, you felt your palms grow clammy as you heard the two men clamoring around in the house, along with Maude Ivory’s cheerful explanation about the lake and surrounding meadow.

Looking up when you heard the door close, you were greeted with the Covey, Sejanus­—who had Maude Ivory on his shoulders—and Coriolanus.

“Hi everyone.” You smiled, quickly looking away from the blonde. “To the lake, we go.”

You walked in a peaceful silence behind everyone, halfway distracted with thoughts of swimming and sunbathing, the crisp and warm air perfect. You watched as Lucy Gray walked alongside Coriolanus, the two seemingly teasing each other as they chatted, laughter flowing freely.

-----

Having spent a short while in the water, you were now sitting along the shore, a short way’s away from where Maude Ivory, Lucy Gray, Sejanus, and Tan Amber were finishing off the picnic foods.

You looked up when you felt a pair of eyes on you, blushing when you saw Coriolanus sitting down next to you, keeping a laugh in as his knee popped.

“Thought you’d want to enjoy the water and fresh air.”

“Can I ask you something?” Coriolanus asked, paying no mind to your attempt to dismiss him.

Looking away from, you squinted as the sun reflected off of the water behind him. “Already did.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” You asked, genuinely wondering what he was talking about.

Coriolanus mulled over his words for a moment, not sure how to go about the conversation. “Whenever we’re in the same room, you always come up with some excuse to leave. You never look at me when you’re on stage. Have I done something wrong?”

You felt your heart grow sore at his question, he sounded helpless, hoping you would be able to explain your actions. “I- no, Coriolanus-”

“Coryo, you can call me Coryo if you want.”

Nodding, you looked at the man. “Coryo. You didn’t do anything wrong, no.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed, head tilting.

You sighed, watching a bird dive down and grab a fish out of the water before taking off again. Oh, how you wish you could fly away right now.”

“You’re different.” You said, setting down the flowers you were weaving. “A lot of the guys here look similar. Tired, faces freckled from the sun, hair permanently tinted with the coal. You- you’re pretty. Your skin free from freckles, hair clean and bright. Well, at least it looked clean on the Games.”

Coriolanus, who had a small smile on his face, spoke up once he realized you were done talking. “You think I’m pretty?”

Taking his tone as him joking, you made a move to stand. “I knew it was a mistake telling you.”

“No, no,” Coriolanus took your hand, stopping you from standing. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way. I just, no one’s ever called me pretty before.”

You were unsure of what to say, so you shrugged lightly, chewing on your lip.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty, too. Beautiful, even.” Coriolanus replied, smile on his face growing.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Don’t let Lucy Gray hear that.”

“Why? She and I both agreed there’s no romance between us.” Coriolanus looked back at the group, seeing Lucy Gray look over at the two of you a few times, stopping to send an encouraging thumbs up.

The two of you laughed at her actions, before Coriolanus turned back to meet your eyes.

This time, you didn’t look away. Instead, you kept his gaze until he broke into a wide smile. “Would it be alright if I take you out tonight?”

“Out where? The Hob?” You joked, the list of possible date locations in District 12 were limited. “But yes, Coryo, you definitely can.”

-----

a/n: will i learn how to end a fic this year? let's wait and see! send requests in!

[gabessquishytum]

Hob likes food okay, he thinks cooking is a act of love, so when he's tapped by HFGTV for his own food show, he knows he's going to do it his own way. His show is sort of Guy Fieri-ish -- Hob will happily eat your burger made of 5 cheeses; that corn dip that was a hit at your town's most recent potluck,,, if it's made with love and care... Hob will happily chow down. He gets to travel and speak (and cook) with normal people who love it as much as he does.

Dream is a Michelin Starred chef; with famous, but popular, restaurants with aggressive wait lists. Food is art and craft; and while he still loves cooking (not that he has time to eat any of it) he finds himself bored of his function.

Dream and Hob bump into each other at an industry event:

M (dripping with distainful disbelief): You're that chef that happily eats oreos dipped in marshmallow fluff, covered in chocolate and deep fried?!

H: 😍 I love your food! You watch my show?!?!!! Wanna go a a date with me, snobby Mc'beautiful man?!

Dream hates himself, a little, that he finds the heathen charming.

This is the cutest thing I've ever seen. I'm MELTING.

So maybe Dream is only in Hob’s part of town for the weekend, just for this event. So Hob persuades him - he'll take Dream for a tour around his favourite food spots. They'll have fun, eat, and maybe Dream will find his love for food again. Maybe they'll also do a little smoochin'. Dream rolls his eyes so hard they nearly fall out BUT he agrees.

It's late morning when they start out so Hob drags Dream for brunch at his favourite little hole in the wall cafe. They do a fusion breakfast menu with traditional British stuff plus breakfast foods from all different regions of India, and you can pick and choose whatever you want to eat. Hob knows all the staff and ends up dragging Dream into the kitchen to chat/try little mouthfuls of food. By the time they sit down to eat Dream has a tiny smile on his face (although he seriously objects to how much ketchup Hob is putting on his plate).

After brunch they walk around a bit and go get boba at Hob’s favourite place because he's scandalised that Dream has never tried it?! Hob also can't help but talk about how much he loves Dream’s food and how he'd eat at his restaurant every single day if he could. Dream can't believe that someone would care so much about his food, but he's very charmed. He even says he'll cook for Hob some time.

Next stop is to get freshly baked gingerbread from a tiny food truck. Hob spends the whole time trying to wheedle the secret recipe out of the owner while Dream is like "don't tell him, he obviously can't keep a secret to save his life." They're basically already an old married couple and they get the gingerbread for free.

At this point Dream needs to lie down because he hasn't eaten so much food in forever, so Hob offers to take him back to his flat and they can drink tea and just talk about food. Dream ends up falling asleep on Hob’s shoulder and when he wakes up, Hob has ordered pizza. Its cheesy and greasy and a little bit terrible, but there's something about it that reminds Dream why he became a chef in the first place.

They end up making out on the sofa for a few hours until Hob pulls away with this face like he just had the best idea. "We need to do a show together. Where we do what we did today and I seduce you with good, honest food."

And although Dream wrinkles up his nose like he hates the thought... he's the one calling up the studio in the morning and demanding to be allowed to pitch the show 😉

[im-not-corrupted]

Well I gotta send in a request now!

How about 4 - "Well, this is rather cliché" with Dreamling? ❤️ (Happy early V-day btw!)

Oooo this one was fun! Happy early Valentine's day!

-------

He has, admittedly, been avoiding Hob Gadling for quite some time now.

There is a valid reason, regardless of whether or not Matthew and Johanna believe him. There is simply too much in his head, his chest a mess of tangled feelings, and he knows already how this ends. This is a story he has lived through plenty of times before; it never ends well, and there are some things that are simply not worth it in the end.

Like ruining the friendship he and Hob have now. It has taken years for them to get to this point, and he values his friend's company far more than he'll ever be able to put into words at this point. He decided, when he realised that his own feelings went a little bit beyond friendship, that it would be simple to just--avoid it all. To not think about it.

Not thinking about it is harder than Dream would like. His thoughts turn to Hob constantly, unbidden, and there is no escaping it, not unless he buries himself in his work. In his writing.

Which he has tried his best to do, only Matthew and Lucienne both seem to believe that isn't healthy of him. This, he supposes, might very well be true, but he doesn't quite have the capacity to care.

Until Matthew and Johanna both decide to interfere. Which is how he ends up in the back of Johanna's car, with Matthew singing terribly off-key to the music blasting from the radio, a situation he thinks might very well be his own personal kind of hell. He already has a headache forming and has a feeling it'll only get worse as the evening goes on--he doesn't have a clue as to why he is here, but it cannot be good.

There is a reason he does not often talk to people. Really, the friendships he has with Johanna and Matthew weren't really his choice--they both wormed their way into his life without asking and somehow managed to stick around.

He is not. Unhappy. With that. He has come to value their friendship, too. They care for him, even if he cannot quite understand why.

Still. He does not often talk to people, and that is simply because that does not go hand-in-hand with his own lifestyle. He wishes to remain inside the walls of his apartment, where he doesn't have to think too hard on...on everything. On his own subconscious insistence on ruining almost every good thing he has. Inside his apartment, he can simply...write. Play music. Get out of his own head until its noise doesn't feel quite so overwhelming, until it becomes manageable.

This. Is not manageable. It is not. And though he is fond of both Matthew and Johanna--he is, even if he has some difficulty showcasing it--he already wishes they had not dragged him out.

"What," he asks eventually, when Matthew grows bored of the radio and the silence grows too heavy, "am I doing here?"

It is a question he has asked at least four times already. It is a question he will continue to ask until he gains an answer. If he does, that is. He has never been very good at surprises--he is not very good at surprises here either.

Matthew twists around in the passenger seat, shooting him a grin that Dream can only describe as 'mischievous'. Which, really, doesn't bode well at all. "Oh, you'll see!"

"I hope you realise just how uncomforting that is," he deadpans.

Johanna tells him, "Get over it. This is for your own fucking good."

He almost asks what that means--almost, because his eyes are trained on the windows, and he knows these streets. Has walked them a couple of times before now.

This is the route to The New Inn. 

"The New Inn?" he asks, and dread opens up, a chasm beneath him. His stomach drops to the floor of the car. "What--"

"The New Inn," Matthew confirms. The grin on his face has only gotten wider, though that fades when he looks at Dream. He sighs before saying, "Listen. Dream. You can't avoid the man forever."

"I can, if you stop interfering," he points out. He would appreciate less interference, actually. He would really appreciate less interference. Avoidance may hurt--and, god, it does, he has ached and ached since he first realised just how foolish he was being by daring to want more--but it is the best option. The only option, at least until he has his own feelings under some semblance of control. He will not allow this to ruin what he has with Hob, something the two of them fought for painstakingly.

It took years. Of Hob's persistence, and his saint-like patience. It took years of Dream avoiding whatever kindness he was offered, believing himself to be above it all, until his life was abruptly ruined by Burgess.

It took a lot of time to get over that one afterwards. But Hob was there, a shoulder to cry on if he needed it, an anchor in the middle of the storm. Johanna and Matthew, he met those two afterwards, but Hob--he was there since the beginning, and held him through it all.

Dream is grateful for him. For him, and for his older sister Death, who decided to offer him kindness, too. He can't ruin their friendship. What would he do without it? Without the chance to see Hob's smile, warm and gentle and loving, every time the two of them saw each other?

He would rather avoid the other man for a few weeks, until his heart outgrows its foolishness, than attempt to pursue anything. It will not end well--he has a long line of failed relationships to prove that one, and doesn't want to add Hob's name onto the end of that list. He will not be the one to ruin Hob.

Johanna snorts. She doesn't look back at him, for she's the one driving and she wisely keeps her eyes on the road, but if she could, Dream just knows she'd give him a very unimpressed glare. She's rather impressive at those. "Fuck off," she says, her voice sharp. "Have you even texted him in the last fucking week? The man's a wreck!"

"...I texted him," he answers. It is weak, though the answer isn't a lie. He has texted Hob, though only once before he decided the best option would be to simply turn off his phone. At least that way his attempts to get over his infatuation will be undisturbed. But he did. He has a feeling, though, that Johanna meant more than just once.

Then the rest of what Johanna said dawns on him, and guilt flares, ready to swallow him whole. "A wreck? Is he alright?"

"Well, you haven't texted him for what--three, four weeks now?" Johanna asked. "What the fuck do you think? He's asked me twice now to make sure you aren't dead in a ditch already."

"You need to talk to him," Matthew piped in. "So neither of you go insane."

"I'm not going insane," he protests, but it falls on deaf ears. Which, he supposes, might be due to the fact that Johanna is pulling up in front of The New Inn now.

It looks...surprisingly empty, despite the lights on in the windows. He blinks at the sight. It is Valentine's Day, so it certainly comes as a surprise. It isn't necessarily the most romantic of places to take a partner, but it does happen. Dream remembers the bustle of last year's Valentine's Day rather well, and he wonders why it is so empty now.

Perhaps Hob simply decided to forgo Valentine's day celebrations this year and leave The New Inn closed for the day. That doesn't quite fit with his perception of Hob, but it is a good and reasonable answer that fits a tiny bit too well with Johanna's previous statement of 'The man's a wreck', which is...discomfiting.

"Alright, in you go," Matthew tells him.

Dream simply stares at the building and makes no attempt to move.

"For fuck's sake, go," he says again. "We'll be here to drive you back if everything goes as bad as you seem to think it will. You need to fucking talk already. It's either that or we sit here all night."

The thing is--the thing is, honestly, that now that the opportunity is close enough for him to grasp, every part of him wants to walk into The New Inn. To see Hob again, to bask in the light of his company, despite every bit of logic telling him that it is, perhaps, the worst idea he's had in years.

But he has never been particularly great at resisting impulses, and certainly not ones he knows will end badly. So he sighs heavily and simply says, long-suffering and exhausted, "Very well."

It is, in the end, an easy feat to open the door of the car. The evening air is cold, stinging his face instantly, and he shivers in his coat as he makes the walk up to The New Inn, deciding it is simply best to ignore Matthew's far too loud call of Go get him, tiger that Dream is fairly sure the entire neighbourhood also heard.

He stands there for a couple of moments. Now that he is really there, that the door is in front of him, crossing that threshold seems suddenly impossible. He should--he should turn back, should leave before it all goes wrong. What was he thinking, deciding this would be a good idea?

He doesn't get to turn back. The door opens before he can put thought into action, and Hob is standing there, haloed by the lights on inside. He looks--well, he looks just as lovely as always, and the one on Dream's face is one so warm that it makes his heart flip in his chest. He rues that, the ease with which all his attempts to put distance between his feelings and himself are made futile simply by glancing at Hob's face.

"You're here," the other man breathes, and without warning, Dream is pulled into a hug.

It is. Warm. Lovely. Everything Dream has wanted these last few weeks, since deciding avoidance was the best route to go down. And he can't help but to hug back, a little awkward but still heartfelt.

It is over sooner than he wants it to be, but he resists the urge to pull Hob back. That, he thinks, really would make distancing himself from his feelings difficult, and things are hard enough as it is.

"Come on, come in," his friend says, and he pulls Dream by the wrist inside. It isn't a particularly rough grip--he is careful with Dream, gentle, and though the prideful part of him always rears its head at the display of tenderness, for he doesn't want to be treated or seen as weak, he is grateful for it--and he can pull away easily, but he follows along instead, soon engulfed by the cosiness of The New Inn instead of the frigid cold outside.

Despite his earlier theories, Hob did not forgo Valentine's Day celebrations. If anything, he seemed to have gone above and beyond, at least with the decorations--there are red and white decorations everywhere. Heart balloons, streamers, little heart-shaped decorations upon the tables--it is an assault on his senses, one he didn't expect, and he takes a second to take in the sight. It certainly requires some adjustment.

"Well, this is..." he starts, but lets the sentence trail off.

Beside him, Hob snorts. When Dream turns to look at him, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Rather cliché, I know," he says wryly. "This was all Matthew. He...thought this would be a good idea? For...some reason? I have to admit, I'm not entirely sure what his thought process here was. I only said I wanted to talk to you, to make sure you were alright, and he did...this."

"...Ah." He has a feeling he understands Matthew's thought process exactly, and resolves to never consult Matthew in such matters again. "I believe I understand what happened."

"Well, I'm glad someone does," Hob says with a quiet laugh. It's not as joyous as his laughs usually are. "Listen, Dream--if I did something wrong, if I was coming on too strong, tell me? I can back off. I don't want to drive you away. You mean a lot to me."

Dream...takes a second to process. Stares at Hob, a bit baffled and not entirely sure he heard that correctly, before asking, "...Coming on too strong?"

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, or anything, only I was sure you felt...similarly. I'm sorry if I got that wrong."

He thinks back to their last interaction--the kindness of Hob's smile, the way he took Dream's hand in his, asking whether Dream wants to Come up to my flat, love? We can watch a movie, or I can make you dinner, whatever you feel like, and looks at it in a new light entirely. "You...Want more. Than friendship. From me."

It does not seem possible, not in any sense of the word. But, god, does Dream want it.

He laughs quietly, self deprecating, and tugs on his earlobe. It is an incredibly endearing action, that, and Dream adores him very much. "I didn't make it obvious enough?" he asks, then shakes his head. "Listen. I want--I want whatever you want. If that's just friendship, that's fine with me. But...yes. Yes, I would like...something more. With you."

The smile that breaks across his face is unbidden, but not necessarily unwelcome. He swallows down the nerves, the anxiety, and considers. If...If Hob wants more, too, if his own wants aren't monstrous, undesired...perhaps there will be no ruining their friendship. Perhaps he can take a chance, if only here.

He steps forward, takes Hob's hand in his. "I am not. Particularly great at this," he admits.

Hob raises a brow. "I might've noticed."

Dream glares at him. He doesn't really mean it. Its effect is significantly weakened by the smile that remains on his face. "But. I would like something more with you, too. If you would have me, still."

Eyes widening, Hob says, "Of course I would, Dream. Of course I would. Now that we're on the same page..." His hand tightens in Dream's. "Do you want to come upstairs? For a movie, or for dinner? For both? And to...talk, we should do that too."

He places a kiss, feather-soft and gentle, to Hob's cheek. "Yes. I think I would like that a lot."

Hob beams at him, and Dream thinks that this cannot be anything other than a good thing.

[landwriter]

1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.

That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.

(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)

Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?

(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)

It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.

I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.

When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?

He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)

I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.

Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.

The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.

Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.

I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!

P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on

[mxcat777]

So what if

Dream is sort of Shakespeare's patron, right? So would that make Shakespeare on of His™? And if so, would he reside in the Dreaming after his death instead of the Sunless Lands?

'cause if so. Consider.

He's still writing. (A lot)

He keeps up with modern literature, but keeps writing (at least mostly) in Early Modern English (that's it, right? Do I have my lit facts straight?). Imagine his recent plays littered with slang, disney references, (un)subtle references to shit that was based on his stuff that he either loves or hates, both are good.

He's kind of a favourite of Dream's. The same way Lucienne and Jessamy and The Corinthian are. He can get away with saying shit, because if he offends Dream he can turn around and start sprouting some poetry at that vain-ass bitch and all is forgiven. (In the worst cases it takes a new play about his royal majesty the Dream King and how generous and benevolent and regal he is)

Fishbowling happens, not sure what Will would do, the plot bunny didn't care.

Dream is back, all is well, he goes to the New Inn, Hob and Dream are now officially Friends.

They meet up more bc friends see each other more often than once a century. Oh yeah friends also know each others' names and such. So Dream tells Hob a bit about himself.

At some point he's like, hey hob u wanna see the dreaming?

Hob's like yES PLz??

Hob gets a tour, and from that point on usually gets the option at night to dream normally or visit the palace.

On one fateful night, Hob decides to take a stroll through the library, goes looking for Marlowe's shelf, because he kind of wonders what other stuff that genius would have written had he lived longer.

Only to (maybe literally) bump into, you guessed it, Will Bloody Shaxberd.

He stares.

Will goes 'hey'.

And then Hob goes somewhat feral.

(no he is not over it, sue him, he's allowed to hold a grudge.)

He goes off on a rant about, see, ofc ur still plagiarizing marlowe he was so much better i can't believe dream left me for you you useless twat you couldn't write shit without him so why did you get the fucking privilege of living with him and knowing him for fucking centuries i had to fight 600 years for his bloody name and i'm guessing you got it right that first meeting hm?

And Will goes oh shit it's you! And then cuts Hob off with a "you're so right! I was an absolute shit playwright before your friend helped me!"

And Hob is... Understandably lost. This was not how it went in his head.

And then Will continues, I was so nervous the time right after that meeting, I knew he was some sort of supernatural being, no clue what though, he's really not good at introductions, is he, so I sort of assumed you were too, and I was waiting for your revenge for stealing your date away, recently found out you're actually human, albeit immortal, and it was not a date, though, speaking of, have you sorted yourselves out yet?

And Hob, quite understandably even more baffled, sort of gapes for a bit.

Before very nervously denying anything of the sort.

Will just stares.

And goes, bruv, you weren't subtle then, still aren't now, spare everyone else the UST, please, for the love of god, you two need to fuck post haste.

And Hob is like, hahaha, eh, yeah, nope, fun seeing you, BYE.

So Will sighs. And goes to see Lucienne, as any sensible person would.

Lucienne sighs as well. At which point Will steps to Dream himself.

"My lord?" "Yes, William?" "Forgive my directness, but so as not to risk any misunderstandings, what exactly is your relationship with Hob Gadling?" "We are friends. Why do you ask? Is that not clear?" "Well, to be perfectly honest, m'lord, I assumed you were... Involved™." "We are not." "But you'd like to be though, right?" "You dare presume to know-" " I dare presume to know what attraction, romance, love, all that looks like, sire. I must do, after portraying it in my plays for over four centuries. After writing several hundreds of sonnets on the topic." "I-" "In my humble opinion, my lord, it is a good match. He understands you, you continue to fascinate each other, he can provide a safe place where you need not be monarch for a moment. And of course, you are quite obviously attracted to one another sexually." "WILLIAM SH-" "Oh calm down! I'm certainly not judging either of you!" "...he is attracted to me?" "..." "Is he?" "YES! Lord give me faith! Kiss him! Go to him and teleport the both of you onto a bed! Or if you want to be sappy go slow and bring him a rose, but please, for the love of the collective sanity, do something!" "But how do you know? What if you misunderstood? What if it is unwelcome? I cannot lose him!"

At which point Will turns around, leaves the throne room, goes back to the library and rant to Lucienne

"I swear I'm going to write a play about them, just to point out how stupid this is. I feel compelled to call it a tragedy, but I think it needs to have a happy ending, otherwise Lord Broodphius would get stuck on the but what if it does end in tragedy, so I suppose a comedy would be fitting, but then again, this is too painful to watch to qualify as a comedy. Tragic comedy? Comic tragedy? I'll figure it out..."

And Lucienne is like, if you'd like to perform it properly I'm sure there are a few dreams who would be more than willing to help out, take on a role.

Hob comes back to the Dreaming a few days later and finds Will up to his elbows in paper, reference books, thesauruses and rhyming dictionaries (handy things those), and empty mugs and the like.

Will looks up, somewhat manic, and is like, Hob! Great! Just the person I wanted to see! Would you help me, please?

Hob's like, sure? Kind of apprehensive, but he gave everything some thought and decided that as long as he could go on dunking on him, he could let go of most of his jealousy (cuz that's what is was, he's mature enough to admit)

Will goes, Awesome! Tell me about you and Morphius! How do you see him, what's your story, I only ever get bits and pieces from his lordship, so I'm in severe need of some context...

And Hob is somewhat suspicious, but he indulges him, and really, telling the story comes too easy, so he gets into it completely and doesn't even notice when he starts slipping into rants about Dream, about how beautiful, and magnificent, and misunderstood, and kind, and way-out-of-his-league-but-god-dammit-he-went-and-fell-in-love-with-the-bastard-anyway he is

And Will takes studious notes.

And then goes like, so some of the sonnets I've written were with you two in mind, you wanna give me some feedback? (Ahem, sonnet 24/29, some others work too, undoubtedly, but I am no Shakespeare expert, unfortunately)

And he does something similar with Dream, maybe citing Hob's dislike of him as the reason he wants to know more about him without having to bother him overly much, like, I want to set things right between us, but I need to know more about him to do that, will you help me, m'lord

And he does

And Will just sits back and takes notes as Dream also spirals into a passion fueled rant about Hob

And all those notes end up in the eventual play

Auditions for the roles happen when Dream and Hob are out on a Not Date™ in the Waking.

There are surprisingly many auditioning for Hob's role, and surprisingly little for Dream's

Until Will points out that Dream would probably be more offended by an unworthy portrayal of his Love that of himself, at which point some of the dreams bow out entirely, bc Will knows how vain their lord is, so they decide not to risk unmaking and tactically retreat

Will is in his fucking element, it's been way too long since he's properly directed a play!

Eventually Will comes up to the Mutually Pining Idiots like, hey m'lord, Hob, I've written a new play, and I've been working with some of the dreams to make it happen, do you want to see??

So they watch. They watch as two absolute fucking idiots stumble around each other, everyone on and off stage can see how stupidly in love they are except for them, and both start sweating profusely when they start recognizing their own words quoted back at them.

The end of the play is something of a direct call-out and a plea from the dreams to please just talk to each other, fuck and get married, preferably in that order, but they're not picky.

Then everyone leaves them alone for the Conversation that is most likely going to happen.

Will stays behing hiding unobtrusively in the shadows tho.

He's not about to let all his work go to waste if these idiots ty to play it off again. He will lock them in a broom closet if he has to, watch him.

They don't.

Luckily.

There are like three sentences total spoken. Then they're aggressively making out.

Will leaves the room very content about his matchmaking skills.

And hey! He got a good play out of it, if he does say so himself!

[chaosheadspace]

Smarch day 25: scent

I made my own take on A/B/O which I don't normally write or read. Very soft. Have fun!

Dream's soft cries echo through the bedroom as Hob fucks into him enthusiastically. It had taken Hob one look at the omega to know, irrevocably, that Dream was his. The Disco hat been loud and crowded, and Hob could feel his blood sing from the second he'd stepped foot inside. He had excused himself from his friends and given in to the sweet, sweet call of pheromones. The second he'd locked gazes with a pair of blue eyes as searching as his, it was over.

Dream had sunk against his chest, content, elated. On the tube on the way to Hob's flat he had lovingly opened two buttons of Hob's shirt so more of Hob's scent would reach his nose. If anybody had noticed, they hadn't said anything. The genetic variations grow rarer and rarer, which makes coincidences like this all the more unlikely. People generally take the chance by the neck if they happen to stumble upon a match by sheer dumb luck. They softly spoke, exchanged names and stories and numbers until they reached Hob's front door, where Dream had put his nose against Hob's neck and moaned.

"It's been years since somebody smelled this good for me," he'd said. "Sorry, I'm a bit drunk on it."

Hob had curled a hand around Dream's neck, reassuring, possessive, and Dream had moaned again. "Don't be sorry, sweetheart," Hob had whispered into his soft black hair and fumbled with his keys. "Your smell is nothing short of an aphrodisiac for me and you know that. I know you can feel it."

Dream had plastered himself against Hob's side even more, burning hot through both of their clothes and licked the shell of his ear. "Hurry up then so you can fuck me, Hob Gadling."

Hob had sworn and almost dropped his keys and then shoved him against the inside of the door, sinking to his knees while almost ripping Dream's trousers off. Had buried his face in the wet mess between his thighs and drank from him until they trembled. They'd barely made it to the bed.

Dream shoves himself back onto Hob's cock with a wild moan. "How can I still want you even when you're inside of me?" He pants.

Hob is laid over his back, chest against spine, one hand at Dream's hip, the other interlaced with Dream's on the covers. It's the kind of close, animalistic sex that makes Hob want to keep going and going until he's wrung every sound, every ounce of pleasure, every possible orgasm out of Dream.

"Do you want me to knot you, sweet one?"

Dream slumps forward into the mattress and wails, the new angle so delicious it takes Hob all but two strokes to add his own hot wetness to the one between Dream's legs.

Dream whines into the pillows as he can feel Hob's knot expand inside him, and when Hob reaches down, he finds him hard and wanting still. So Hob continues to make small rocking motions, buried deep inside, knot tugging at Dream's rim.

Dream's breathing grows erratic. Hob can tell he's very much gone as he tilts his head to the side, exposing more of his neck. "Please bite me, oh God, Hob please, claim me, mark me, make me yours -"

Hob bites his lip until he draws blood. Pure want tries to force his jaw open to do as Dream pleads and bury his teeth into lily-white flesh. He mustn't. He mustn't. They've known each other for maybe three hours. He can't bite a claim into the neck of a stranger, regardless of how pretty his blood might sing for him. It's not right.

Instead, he clamps a hand on the back of Dream's neck to relieve some of his need for pressure there and picks up speed, his hips stuttering with quick, minuscule movements. Dream goes feral under him, squirming and moaning and tugging himself forward so hard Hob's knot almost pops free.

"Hob," Dream pleads again, half delirious and shuddering, "do you not want me? Am I not good? I wanna be good for you. Please, please, Hob, take me, let me be yours, let me, let me -"

"Shhhh," Hob says through the saliva pooling in his mouth, dripping down onto Dream's shoulder, "you are. You're so good for me. So perfect, wet and open. Dream, darling, it's all good, it's all good -" he buries his fingernails into Dream's neck where they both desperately, instinctively want Hob's teeth and Dream comes with a strained shout.

Hob can't help but imagine Dream walking around with a beautiful, days-old purple claim, Hob's claim, and the nauseating wave of want is so tall Hob comes a second time, drooling violently through gritted teeth.

After regaining some of his composure Hob carefully lays them onto the side, avoiding the wet spot Dream has made. Their bodies still locked together he draws the covers over both of them, burying his nose in Dream's delicious scent.

"Do you want me to -" Hob says, unsure, while squeezing Dream's hip. It's entirely possible to work an active knot out again.

"Mmmhhh," Dream rumbles, eyes half lidded, his body warm and pliant like fresh taffy against Hob's front. "Stay. S'nice. Thank - thank you for -"

"My pleasure. It's ok," Hob breathes against his neck, placing slow kisses there.

"Can I - M'gonna - hmm." Dream's voice grows heavier and trails off as he falls asleep. It's how it should be, it's what feels right, even if they both know that it's all just instinct and hormones and entirely possible to ignore. It's nice to give in to it, sometimes. Calming.

So Hob lays there behind Dream, whose first bodily instinct it is to rest after being fucked and knotted, and feels his own body buzzing with post-orgasm endorphins telling him to stay awake and keep watch, to protect. So he nuzzles his face into Dream's hair and does just that, still buried deep.

[windsweptinred]

Wait wait wait, if you're still thinking about that Dream and Desire reconciliation au, I've a few ideas.

What if when Dream was first captured and asking for help Desire came to aid him instead of just sending Allianora. As I understand, Allianora was their attempt at an apology(and we all saw how that went down). I think Desire personally helping Dream reclaim his kingdom would patch up their little spat neatly.

After that they're back to being besties. They also help each other out a lot. For example:

Desire steals a very dangerous and rare artifact and the owner of the artifact is breathing down their neck because they suspect Desire was the one who did it

Desire: Dream! It has been so long, hasn't it since we last talked! I've missed you terribly. how have you been keeping? Are you alright? Have I told you just how-

Dream: what did you do?

Desire: what, I can't just call my darling big brother simply because I love and miss him?

Dream:

Desire:

Desire: I... may have stolen the Morningstar's crown(I'm pretty sure they don't have a crown but just go with me) and I need you to tell them that I've been spending these past few weeks in your realm creating wet dreams with you

Dream: let me get this straight, you want me to lie to the most powerful being in this universe, besides the Creator himself, straight to their face, endangering my own kingdom and future diplomatic relationships because you stole the Morningstar's crown?

Desire: ....yes

Dream: *sighs* just give me a moment

Oh! And imagine if it was Desire instead of Death who dragged him to the white horse(honestly, big brother, it wouldn't kill you to have fun every once in a while🙄🙄) Desire being, well, desire knows that their big brother is really getting tired of this Being an Endless bulshit and really wants to, y'know, kill himself. So they try to help him and what a better way to help than hooking him up with someone!

And would you look at that! Someone who seems just as stubborn as Dream, with a burning desire for life, greedy for everything humanity has to offer. And it looks like Dream and this mystery guy are eyeing each other already. (The mystery guy is Hob, obviously)

(No, I am not sorry for turning this post into a dreamling post)

So Desire makes a deal with Death to keep Hob alive as long as he wishes to live. Death agrees because she doesn't want to loose her baby brother either.

The next century Desire gets Morpheus to agree on another visit to the white horse(come onnn, it was fun the first time wasn't it? Besides, I miss my big brother, you barely spend any time with us anymore!).

When Morpheus sees that the obnoxious mortal he met the last century is still very much alive and well he whips around to demand explanation but Desire just hugs him, says: "have a happy date!" And dissappears. ugh, typical.

Desire is very, very disappointed to discover that his brother and the human have not, in fact, fucked their brains out by the end of the date. They are even more annoyed to discover that out of all the tropes in the world they have chosen mutual pining and idiots to lovers(really, Dream. Aren't you supposed to know better, being the prince of stories and such?)

Burgess still imprisons Morpheus but because Desire and Dream are on good terms this time he gets out of the fishbowl a lot more faster. Either he asks for help or Desire tells Hob and he rescues him instead.

And all the blackmail that comes from knowing someone for ten billion years! Desire is more than happy to tell all the times Dream has fucked up in a magnificent fashion. most embarrassing stories to his new partner. Dream resorts to dirty tricks too and in turn offers Unity all of Desire's embarrassing stories.

That's it for now but there will probably be more. Sorry not sorry for the long ask

Oooooo! I absolutely love it! I love the idea of Dream being indulgently tollerant older brother and Desire being a bratty yet loving little sibling. 🥹❤️ Thank you!!! (Also... 'What did you do? 🤣😂) And never apologise for a long ask. Right me a book, I'll merrily sit down with a cuppa and read every word!

I love the idea of Death and Desire tag teaming to find Hob for Dream. My new personal headcannon is Desire has looked at every partner Dream has brought home over the eons and thought, 'Oh honey, no. Absolutely not! They're terrible for you.' Then in a way only a younger sibling can, nefariously got rid of each and every one. Ofcourse Dream doesn't see it that way. But it's totally for his own good. He's truly appalling at picking partners. Finally Desire and Death find Hob and think, that's the man our brothers going to marry. Whether he knows it or not. 😅

[avelera]

AAAAA i cant tell you how excited i am about your new fic!! Esp Love love love the huge contrast in hob in the first chapter compared to your other fics. (given sanctuary anon back from the ether)

Thank you! Yeah I am having SO VERY MUCH FUN writing 1589 Hob who is by far the most audacious and the least self-aware of all the eras of Hob. He's had 200 years of meteoric rise beyond anything anyone of his birth could hope to attain and not a single setback to check his instincts. As far as 1589 Hob is concerned, the more he pushes for what he wants, the more he wins. Why in the world would he bother with modesty or hesitation, then? He's going to be absolutely awful in the 1589 fic for that reason, though there is still that thread of sincerity to him, particularly with regards to Dream. They are genuinely awful for each other in this era, a powder keg of disdain and irritation and arrogance and attraction to the right person at the wrong time that makes them at once infuriating and irresistible to each other as a result. And I can't wait.

That said, I think one of the reasons I kind of... had to write a bit of 1589 Hob before I could finish up Giving Sanctuary and get into the sequel is because after writing over 100,000 words of Hob at his very lowest in 1689, I kind of needed to go back and remember who he was before all that happened? Like, it would be far too easy to have Hob learn all of these important lessons in GS and find the love of his life and rebuild his broken self confidence as a result, only to keep him in this sort of cringing low self-esteem just because it's what I'm used to writing? So I wanted to take a moment to go all out on who Hob was before the 1600s broke him. Obviously in Giving Sanctuary he's not going to be 1598 Hob, he's grown so much and learned so many lessons since then, but this canny bandit and all-around arrogant fuckboi was there at some point, and Hob regaining his self confidence even if its tempered now with wisdom is going to contain elements of that 1500s nobleman.

Because here's the thing, all my centennial AUs are still the same Hob. The only difference is the one thing went different so they get more time with Dream sooner. So like, obviously Giving Sanctuary doesn't happen in the Joke's On You 'verse, and it also doesn't happen in the Come live with me 'verse, but the Hob you meet in the first chapter of each of those is like... still the same person in my mind? It's still the progression of who he would have been? Which means for as whacky and weird as the 1589 fic is going to be, this is still the Hob we meet in Giving Sanctuary! Like, these "fuck you" thoughts about the nobility are still thoughts that, at one point, Giving Sanctuary Hob had 100 years before the events of the story. I might stress certain characteristics over others depending on the genre, but they're all the same person.

Anyway, Giving Sanctuary's last chapter and sequel is still coming, I promise! All of my fics are. The delay is genuinely a matter of having to hold down a day job, if I could get a month off I'd get so far in all (*checks watch*) four of my Dreamling centennial AU fics? Which I so badly wish I could do ;___;

[cuubism]

Hob will always be grateful that he and Dream got together before Dream's retirement, for so many reasons. One of them is this: that he knows what Dream of the Endless looks like when he laughs, when he's flustered, when he's flushed with pleasure, or warm from a hot shower. Because he knows these things he can fully appreciate the contrast in how Dream--just Dream, himself, not Of The Anything--looks in those moments.

Dream of the Endless had been a work of fine art that never cracked. Hob doesn't think he saw him blush once, ever. His skin was always pale and even, even when Hob made him smile, or cry out in pleasure, or warmed him by the fire. He was how he was.

This Dream, human Dream, his Dream, blushes so easily, and it's a delight. Even human, his complexion is very pale, so the slightest redness is stark on his skin. When Hob surprises him with a kiss he blushes high on his cheeks. When they're gasping for breath after sex--gasping for breath, another thing Dream of the Endless had never done--Dream's face will be flushed red and damp with sweat. He's embarrassed about it, which only makes the blush worse, but Hob finds it incredibly charming.

Or like now: when he's coming out of the shower. Hob has to stifle a laugh. The poor once-dream king's whole chest, neck, and face are splotchy and red from the heat. He does like his showers boiling hot, and he pays for it in this. It's rather un-sexy--Hob's sure Dream would prefer to swan out of the bathroom dripping in a more picturesque and alluring way. But Hob thinks it's all very cute.

Dream scowls at him as he laughs. "You are making fun. Cease that this instant."

"Sorry, Your Highness, it's just that you look like a calico cat that's gone through a forest fire."

Dream throws a towel at him before he's even had a chance to dry his hair with it. When Hob catches it, his scowl only deepens.

Hob steps into his space and starts drying his hair for him. "S'tough when you can't dictate every little bit of your appearance, isn't it?" He's not without sympathy. He knows that even now, for Dream, relinquishing the tiniest bit of control feels like losing a battle.

Dream pokes at one of the red patches on his skin, which is gradually fading. His fingertip leaves a white indent. "I do not know why the blood insists on continually traveling towards the surface. It has other business."

"Perhaps it's just greedy for warmth." He tousles Dream's hair, which earns him another pout. "Like the body it's trying to run, hm?"

"Body," Dream echoes, with distaste. He does not always like having one, Hob knows. Nor especially one that can show his emotions so clearly, and without his agreement.

"It looks good on you," Hob tells him, caressing his cheek. "Warmth. You know."

Warmth, and life. It's worth more than anything to see dream having these moments of life. An overly-hot shower. A blushing smile.

Hob kisses his cheek, and, predictably, he blushes.

"...Perhaps," Dream finally allows. The redness from the shower is fading, but the shade on his cheeks lingers. He's so unbearably lovely.

Hob kisses the corner of his mouth. Murmurs there, "Should we see just how much I can make you blush?"

"This fixation is discomfiting," Dream complains. But he follows agreeably when Hob takes his hands and draws him into the bedroom. He always follows in the end, even if he complains the whole while. Hob thinks that, deep down, Dream wants this life, even if it's sometimes all splotchy. It's just hard to feel like he can have it. It's new and still rubbed raw, and these little changes are as confronting as they are, secretly, comforting.

But Hob loves him in this life, and loves showing him how much he loves him. Especially when he can get that blush to rise all along Dream's chest and throat and cheeks and the tips of his ears. Because another thing that's wonderful about Dream's human body?

It takes kisses so beautifully.

[rey-jake-therapist]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗 (i don't know if you do these sorts of chain-letter things, or if you'd prefer not to, but for my part i do like to know which of their works a given author is especially hype on, so consider this an opportunity to gush!)

Well I've only got 6 fics available online so it's going to be easy to answer that LOL I used to have more, all Reylo fics, but one day I took them all off because 1) they were my first and last experience at writing "AUs" aka at playing dolls with characters I never really shipped in their canon universe (sorry for those who like them but I really don't get the popularity of that ship) 2) they were constantly snubbed so I thought I was a hack who couldn't write. Wrong fandom + imposter syndrome = I woke up one morning and went through a destruction phase. I kept the fics in my docs though. There's one I think I could convert into an original story.... One day 🤣

But back to the subject: I'll start to class them by personal preference rather than by fandom, so sorry if it looks a bit messy... Like the inside of my head haha.

Rise and Shine (The Sandman/Sweetbitter crossover)

I wrote this one as a gift for Tom Sturridge 💜 There was a girl on Twitter who had the wonderful idea of putting together a book containing fan art, fan letters and short fics, with the purpose of giving it to Tom when she'd meet him at the Basinkton Con. So I came up with this one shot, where Jake from Sweetbitter meets Dream of the Endless. Definitely my favorite work.

2. Lost Souls (Sweetbitter)

It's an unfinished project but it's my 2nd favorite fic. I just love this story and even though it's quite clear that I lost my audience lately, probably because I spend too much time on my characters' personal story and not enough on the romaaaaance for most of fanfic readers, I like very much the direction it's taking. I'm actually considering dropping it as a fanfic and turning it into an original novel. Lately I've been sick as hell and unable to write a line, but I thought a lot about this fanfiction thing: I don't get the hang of it. I tried, and tried, but I can't seem to grasp what the average fanfic reader wants. And Lost Souls, well, with a few changes I think I can easily make it an original story. Not to mention that "Jake", yikes.... I really don't like that name. Anyway, I love this fic.

3. Dream a Little Dream of Us (The Sandman)

It's my version of "Johanna Constantine, Nuala the Elf and Hob Gadling walk into a bar..." Except it's happening after Morpheus' death, and they're all dreaming. It's a very sweet fic that I wrote for Sandtober 2023 and I like it very much:

4. It's So Cold (Sherlock, platonic Sherlolly)

I warned you it would be messy, didn't I? 🤣 For this one I put myself in Molly Hooper's shoes and tried to imagine remember how it felt to be in love with a man who doesn't love me.

5. Bitter Sweet Lullaby (The Sandman, Dream x OC)

This short "story" is in fact an excerpt from the Sandman fic I began writing several months ago but that I have reworked so it would stand on its own for Sandtober2023.

It tells a part of Dream's past, where a fae named Eleanora, the princess of Faery, made Dream happy. I'm sorry I can't tell you more about her and what happens to her because it would spoil the fun to come, except that she is post Endless Nights and pre-Vortex but pre-Titiana and pre-Alianora.

In this scene I also include Larri Bea’s lovely song ‘Dream’s lullaby’; as it was written specifically for Dream, it gave me the idea of having it sung to him by the woman he loved :)

[gabessquishytum]

I am feeling Ace!Dream in this Chili's tonight, so-

Can be human au or canon, but Dream and Hob get talking about sexuality stuff, and Dream mentions he's ace and Hob, in honest curiosity and also so he can avoid making Dream uncomfortable in the future, is like "oh rad, so are you sex averse? neutral? positive?" And Dream sort of narrows his eyes and is like "Why would I have sex if I don't feel sexual attraction?" because Dream has had a million experiences of people trying to convince him that they could "change his mind" or that he hasn't found the right one yet, etc. and he's expecting a similar answer from Hob- to tell him that he should have sex just in case he's not REALLY asexual.

But Hob just shrugs and is like, "For fun I guess."

Dream blinks at him. "For... fun?"

"I mean, yeah? Sex is supposed to be fun! But if you don't like it there's nothing wrong with that, I was just curious. Let me know if talking about it makes you uncomfortable, so sorry if I pushed just now."

And Dream. Isn't sex averse. He was just averse to having sex with people who had messed up motives about it and just wanted to "prove something" to him.

But. If SOMEONE *looks pointedly at Hob* just wanted to have sex to have fun and feel good? And would still fully respect Dream's identity without hesitation afterwards?

Well. Sign Dream up 👀👀👀

🦇

This is so great!!! I'm very much vibing with this ace Dream representation!!!

I feel like the concept of fun is generally a bit of a mystery to Dream. He feels like he can't or shouldn't enjoy himself. He's seen sex as a means of reproduction, a means of expressing sexual attraction, even a means of manipulation. But he's never heard sex described as something that could be fun or... recreational? Just something to enjoy for the sake of enjoyment?

Now, Hob does experience sexual attraction but he also enjoys sex because the endorphins feel great, he likes how it makes his body feel and also he enjoys having a silly goofy time?? And he would like to do those things with Dream!! But only if Dream would also like this.

Dream is hesitant, but it is... fun. And interesting, and generally pleasant. When Dream focuses on what he does feel, instead of all the things that he thinks he SHOULD be feeling, sex becomes something that he can enjoy. He doesn't feel like a bad partner. He feels a connection with Hob that goes beyond attraction. A closeness that he hasn't had the opportunity to feel before.

He can't wait to feel it again.

[beautifulsnake2162020]

100 Followers celebration - Beautiful Anomaly: Snippet

OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE 100 FOLLOWERS!

Whether you're an old follower or a new one, I want to say thank you to everyone who loved my works and my posts from any fandom I have participated in 🥰🥲🤧.

For some news for those who are following the "Beautiful Anomaly" series: It will be awhile before Part 3 will be up because I have just been bestowed a large assignment from one of my professors.

So I present to you a post series snippet of a conversation with Life (aka Fem Reader), Morpheus, Death and Hob Gobling. This takes place some time after the ending of the entire story of Beautiful Anomaly and there aren't any spoilers for the next parts. This is also essentially me making fun of myself because this series started with me being horny for Morpheus/Dream. This is also a reassurance from my end: Yes, the series will have a happy ending for Morpheus and Life (I'm like Bette, I'm a sucker for happy endings). It's all about the journey.

Taglist (if you want to be a part of the taglist just comment requesting so) : @winxschester @true-queen-of-mischief @laydreams @memento-mora @daydreamin1220 @kuchokitty @fate-huntress

"I can't believe you"

"Why not? I really haven't seen it."

"You're English, you've lived for what 6 centuries now - and you still haven't watched a single episode of Doctor Who?"

"Well" He shrugs at you and he gives you an expression.

"Come on there is just so much of life to experience."

"Oh, and following your favorite story isn't an experience?"

"Hey, for your information I was in the audience in most of Shakespeare's plays when he was still Shaxbird."

"And how is that different from watching an amazing story unfold in an entire series?" You're both amazed and exasperated. It was only later that you realized you still had your mouth open.

For someone who has chosen to be immortal to experience life to its fullest, it turns out he wasn't that involved with pop culture. You take a breath as you close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Look, I can forgive you for not knowing about Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball Z, and Moriarty the Patriot - I even forgive you for not knowing about Welcome to Nightvale the top fantasy podcast with amazing story telling using an underrated medium."

"Hey! I do listen to podcasts - just not the fantasy type that's all - "

"I forgive you for not knowing about Homestuck - I haven't even finished the entire thing but from what I recall during my school girl days it was amazing and surreal - "

"To be fair you've also not finished Welcome to Nightvale." Morpheus says as he joins the two of you and settles at your side. From your periphery you see Death wearing garnet and topaz bracelets. One on each hand. She volunteered to be the one doing the orders. Probably to force Morpheus to socialize with both you and Hob.

"I was happy with where I left Welcome to Nightvale; Cecil and Carlos reunited and together. Especially the heartache that came with the whole Desert Bluffs fiasco forcing them apart." He smiles at you knowingly. You didn't need to explain it to him after all that you two have been through and after all the things you two have done to resolve various misunderstandings and other communication issues. He understood why. You turn back to Hob to continue your argument.

"Okay fine how about this: What fandoms are you a part of?" Hob gives you a confused look.

"What's a fandom?"

"OH FOR FATE'S SAKE-"

"Are you part of a community that happily admires a story or a piece of work?" Morpheus asks before you began actually cursing.

"Actually...I don't think so. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy entertainment but its more of a passing thing." You feel your mouth open aghast.

"Does your entertainment by any chance include video games?"

"Oh I've always been a bit intimidated by video games. It was one thing when it was just pong, but now with all of the complicated stuff added on, I just feel like it may not be for me."

"How do you know if you haven't tried?" Death asks as she puts down the tray of your orders from the counter. Morpheus stands to help her distribute the coffees teas and pastry snacks that includes your favorite sugar free chocolate cake paired with your favorite tea in this lifetime, Moroccan Mint tea.

"My friend, you just might need someone to help initiate and guide you. She could very well help you out with that." You turn to Morpheus with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm just a casual gamer. All games I've played are coping mechanisms for my stress in my law school classes." He smirks at you as you take a bite from your cake while you wait for your tea to steep for 3 more minutes.

"Coming from someone who has more than a hundred runs playing Hades."

"And who has completed many routes in mobile dating sim games such as Ikemen Sengoku, Ikemen Vampire, and Ikemen Prince. Not to mention you've written plenty of fanfictions-"

"Okay! I get your point you two." You roll your eyes but everyone knows you weren't really offended.

"Um...what's a fanfiction?"

"What the -" You hear a chuckle from your side as your eyes widen. He couldn't restrain it any longer by the admittedly comical cognitive dissonance between you and Hob.

"Why don't I start explaining it first." Death quickly adds before you could comment.

This was going to take awhile.

[a-quiet-borderline-diary]

I haven't written in a while.

I have been feeling a bit down lately because I don't have many friends, and none are as close to me like friends I had when I was younger. I am 32, so I know this is part of getting older because many people are just busy with their lives.. But I just miss it.

Sometimes I blame myself for it, or wonder if the more someone learns about me and gets to know me, the more likely they are to pull away.

I usually tell potential friends that I am bisexual/polyamorous/neurodivergent (adhd) pretty early on and maybe that oversharing is alienating. I'm afraid that if I'm not upfront though, that people will suddenly flip on me later. I have rejection trauma for being bisexual and for being polyamorous.

Although polyamory isn't an identity in the same way as being queer, it is a lifestyle that is often not accepted and sometimes ridiculed by others of all sexualities and genders.

People can say some pretty mean stuff about polyam folks. Like ok, I get it isn't for you. But why are we constantly called degenerates and cucks?? I don't watch my partners do things with others. We simply have multiple relationships. I don't even know why I try to make others understand, because we shouldn't even need to be understood to be respected.

Also, of course, being neurodivergent and mentally ill alienates me from others sometimes as well. I know that because I struggle with chores my house isn't always up to par so I feel self conscious to invite people over. But it seems like on occasions where I actually clean well and plan for guests that not many people even come.

Meds have done a lot for helping me to not get into arguments/fights with friends and partners as much as when I was younger. I lost a lot of friends in the past to this, but now it is too late to salvage those relationships.

I keep trying to start new and it just seems like I never will where I'm living now. I managed to make a few friends to hang out with occasionally but I feel like only my romantic partners (2) really know me and understand me. I feel like I am cursed always masking around friends or potential friends and it prevents me from getting closer. I even heard one girl who I thought was my friend thinks I'm fake. I'm trying to be fucking polite and not be a freak. But ok I guess that makes me fake. I can't win.

I think some of my unmasked behaviors are also just hard to accept. Even my romantic partners think I'm a little cringe sometimes but they love me so they are able to find endearment in it that other people probably won't. I do things like act very childish and make random noises. I fidget twirling my hair and biting at my nailbeds. It might not sound extreme or anything, but my disposition differs pretty greatly from how I behave in public and with friends I have not felt comfortable to unmask around.

A lot of my problem is region based though, and I know that (I live in a rural area, and I'm from a larger city where I had a better opportunity to meet like minded folks.) It doesn't make me feel much better about myself though.

I have over a year until we can move away from this region but it can't come soon enough. I'm 32 and I am afraid my best years are just over. I'm still often told I look 25 and I'm still attractive.. Albeit a little overweight now (but in a milf way!) so I don't feel like I have lost my youth yet but I don't want too much time to pass by where I must remain stagnant.

At least I have my 2 wonderful partners with me every day. We all live together and we are very happy otherwise. My boys are homebodies so they aren't as bothered by being in a rural area as I am though.

My husband is my best friend and our dynamic is very sassy and fun. He has been there for me through many struggles in my life and I have for him as well. We have been married nearly a decade.

My bf is wonderful as well, but a newer relationship. We have been together a bit over a year. He gets along well with my husband and they share a lot of hobbies. He is so gentle and remarkable at solving conflicts. I don't think I've ever truly had a fight with him.

All of us also share similar values and beliefs in general so it feels like I'm with my people. I just wish I had more platonic friends who I felt much closer to.

[ibijau]

How about one where Huaisang accidentally ascended (as in HOB) and Nmj and Lxc have no idea that their Sang-di's a baby god? He can't interfere with anything in the mortal realm, which is why he's always running from martial practice and saying 'i dont know' instead of giving straight answers. He's much more commonly known among the common people than cultivators (god of something simple but sweet?), and Meng Yao is the first to suspect (Can be extended to eventual XiSang where LXC...worships).

Well it only took me like four months to fill this prompt, and then when I finally did I basically ditched everything your suggested except for the “nhs accidentally ascended” part but... hey, if you’re still around after this much time, enjoy??

When Nie Mingjue is twenty and finally given full reign of his sect, there's a huge storm that nearly blows off all the roofs of the Unclean Realm. It is everything he doesn't need, but honestly everything these last three years has been everything he didn't need, starting with his father's death. In the morning, when the storm calms down, he assesses the damage, organises for those wounded by debris to be taken care of, sends disciples in Qinghe and the closest villages to see if they need help.

It isn't a surprise when he learns that the storm only struck the Unclean Realm. There was a taste in the air that did not feel natural.

Hearing this only worsens Nie Mingjue's other concerns. Namely, the disappearance of his prodigy of a little brother. Nobody has seen Nie Huaisang since the storm. His room appears to have been devastated by the winds, everything thrown upside down. His wing of the main residence is the one that has suffered the most damages, the roof apparently blown open.

Initially, Nie Mingjue did not particularly worry. Since the storm was unnatural, it wouldn't be strange for Nie Huaisang to have noticed it and gone after the source of it. It's reckless, and he'll get scolded for it, but it can't be helped. Nie Huaisang cannot see a wrong without wanting to right it. Yet as the hours pass, and then the days, Nie Mingjue gets more and more anxious. Just like the storm that hit them so hard, nobody around has Nie Huaisang. He has simply vanished. Search parties are sent everywhere, inquiries are made to allied clans.

Nothing.

Not a trace.

After a month, Nie Mingjue is starting to consider checking with Qishan Wen when one afternoon, Nie Huaisang simply passes the gate of the Unclean Realm.

Nie Mingjue hugs him and scolds him and demands an explanation, but none comes.

“I got lost,” Nie Huaisang laughs. “I didn't realise so much time had passed. It felt shorter, or I'd have come home sooner, I swear!”

“But where were you?”

“Somewhere I shouldn't have been,” Nie Huaisang evasively replies. “I'm home now. That's what matters.”

It's all Nie Mingjue can get from him. Considering his brother's taste for secrets, he should have expected it.

“Don't do that again,” he orders, before letting the matter drop.

-

Nie Huaisang doesn't train anymore after the storm. At first, he says his long wandering exhausted him. Then he pretends he wants to focus on his calligraphy, on painting, on just anything but martial arts.

Nie Mingjue lets it slide at first. He's long given up on making sense of his brother, and Nie Huaisang has always been a little too wise for his age. Whatever he does, he does for a reason. But as weeks pass and his brother doesn't return to the training grounds, Nie Mingjue has no choice but to corner him about it.

“I don't like it anymore,” Nie Huaisang says. “It's boring.”

“I'm told you also don't meditate. Is that boring as well?”

Nie Huaisang nods firmly.

“What's the point? I now we do this to reach immortality, and maybe even to ascend but... I've given it a lot of thought lately. I don't think it'd be much fun, being a god.”

“What are you even talking about? You... Huaisang, you're good but you're fourteen, it's not like there's any risk of you ascending!”

Nie Huaisang laughs and laughs and laughs.

“Right? I am just fourteen, it'd be so stupid! Still, better not take the risk.”

“Huaisang! Enough now!”

Nie Huaisang pouts, and whines, and gets dragged to the training grounds anyway, where he performs with a mediocrity that he's never shown before. He can't even hold his damn sabre properly, drops it several time. Nie Mingjue is too stunned to even think of punishing him.

Stunned and worried.

This simply isn't like his brother.

-

With help from the elders and some healers, a number of tests are conducted on Nie Huaisang. He is not possessed. He mind is not altered. He hasn't been cursed. His cultivation hasn't been damaged. If anything, it might have risen higher than last time they checked for it.

“Then what's wrong with him?” Nie Mingjue asks.

The elders look at one another, unsure what to say.

“Teenage rebellion?” one of them suggests.

“Gods. That'd be worse than a curse,” Nie Mingjue sighs. “How do we fix that?”

-

Every few weeks, Nie Mingjue gets letters from the Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren is at his wit's end with Nie Huaisang, because there's no way a boy this clever can fail so consistently. He thinks it's done on purpose. Nie Mingjue, after being shown some of his brother's tests, can only agree.

This, too, makes no sense. Nie Huaisang is competitive to a fault and cannot stand it if anyone is better than him at something. In the company of people as famously brilliant as Lan Wangji, Jiang Wanyin, Jin Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian, Nie Huaisang should be thriving and fighting for top position.

Instead, he has taken to drinking and looking at porn.

He still passes his exams, with the best grade of his class.

When asked about it, he just says he didn't feel like going back because the food is really too awful and he missed home.

-

After that year in Gusu, Nie Mingjue gives up on getting his brother back to normal. This is just who Nie Huaisang is now apparently. Gone is the martial prodigy, all Nie Mingjue has now is a bumbling fool who cares for nothing but fans and birds.

Especially birds.

Frequently, Nie Huaisang disappears for days on hand to go birdwatching. That alone is frustrating, since he rarely bothers to say where he's going or for how long. But then, he also systematically leaves his sabre behind, and refuses to take an escort with him, arguing everyone is too loud and will scare away his feathery targets.

Nie Mingjue gives orders that his brother isn't to be allowed outside of the Unclean Realm on his own. Nie Huaisang still manages to get out whenever he damn pleases and laughs it off when his brother gets concerned that there are secret passages in the Unclean Realm.

“An enemy could use that to get inside and slaughter us without warning!” Nie Mingjue points out.

“No, that's not going to happen,” Nie Huaisang replies with a knowing smile. “Nobody can get in. The Unclean Realm will never fall.”

“You don't know that!”

Nie Huaisang laughs.

Nie Mingjue never gets him to reveal how he leaves the Unclean Realm.

-

When the Wens come to the Unclean Realm and demand that Nie Mingjue put his little brother in their hands, he refuses. If they want a war, he's ready to give it to them, even if the rest of the cultivation world would rather grovel at their feet than stand for themselves.

His brother has other ideas. Nie Mingjue finds a note announcing that Nie Huaisang has decided to offer himself as hostage, because he fears they are not ready yet for a war.

Nie Mingjue could kill him for that betrayal.

He knows the Wen might beat him to it.

-

As soon as Nie Huaisang makes it home with a bunch of desperate but unharmed kids from a number of other sects, Nie Mingjue announces that he's sending him to Gusu.

“No, my place is in the Unclean Realm!” Nie Huaisang protests. “I belong here. I know it now, I know this for sure, I have to be here.”

“Are you going to fight at my side then?” Nie Mingjue counters. “Are you going to pick up your sabre at last and help me?”

“I can help without a sabre. Mingjue, don't send me away. I want to be here. This is my home, I need to be here.”

“It's the sabre or Gusu.”

Nie Huaisang whines and pouts and begs and complains and even threatens, to no avail. Nie Mingjue will not bulge from the choice he's giving him.

Without surprise, Nie Huaisang chooses Gusu.

Nie Mingjue wishes it didn't disappoint him.

-

The war is bloody and harsh and it should be hopeless, but it is not.

Several times, they snatch a victory at the last moment through sheer luck. Hope, that most precious of commodities at such a time, never leaves them. Rumours start to circulate among the disciples of those sect who chose to stand against Qishan Wen, although it is many weeks before they reach Nie Mingjue, who never paid much attention to gossip.

In the end, it is Lan Xichen who tells him about it, seemingly rather amused by the stories about...

“A young man wearing a mask who sometimes appears when the situation is desperate,” he explains. “He carries no weapon, but he has a magical fan that he uses when fighting. He is rarely seen in battle, but several people who had been taken prisoner claim that he came down from the heavens to free them before they could be tortured or killed.”

“A rogue cultivator?”

Lan Xichen smiles, but shakes his head.

“A god, apparently.”

Nie Mingjue snorts. Gods don't mess with the affairs of mortals.

“Don't dismiss it so easily,” Lan Xichen scolds him. “I can name more than one sect that decided to join us after hearing about the Faceless God on our side.”

“They even gave him a title?”

“They had to, he never gave his name.”

It's a ridiculous rumour, and it can't be anything more. On a rare letter sent to his brother in Gusu, Nie Mingjue mentions it, guessing that this is the sort of things that might amuse him. He used to like stories of gods and immortals, before he became someone Nie Mingjue doesn't know anymore.

-

It's just a rumour, but even within his own ranks, Nie Mingjue catches a few people praying to the Faceless God on the eve of battle.

He doesn't dissuade them. With the war dragging on and the Wens still so strong in number, people need something to hold on.

Nie Mingjue puts all his faith in his own strength and that of the people he trusts, but he understands that not everybody can be satisfied with this.

-

And then he meets the Faceless God.

-

A young man wearing a mask, Lan Xichen had described him, but all Nie Mingjue sees is a boy in disguise, trying to appear taller and larger than he is.

He carries no weapon, and Nie Mingjue understands why when he sees the fan in the Faceless God's hand. It is one he has seen too many times in the last few years. He wonders if the boy who holds it assumed nobody would recognise it as easily as they might know his sabre.

He rarely joins in battle, but he comes for those who have been captured, like Nie Mingjue dragged before Wen Ruohan, humiliated by Meng Yao who he once trusted above all others.

Both Meng Yao and the Faceless God strike Wen Ruohan at the same time.

Both Meng Yao and the Faceless God cower in fear before Nie Mingjue when he rises to his feet.

Meng Yao kneels before him and swears he was always on their side.

The Faceless God runs away.

It doesn't matter.

Nie Mingjue knows where to find him.

-

It is a while before Nie Mingjue recuperates enough from his injuries to return home. When he finally does, Nie Huaisang is waiting at the gate for him, an uncertain smile on his face and a fan in his hand. Nie Mingjue hugs him and asks for news of the reconstruction in Gusu, unsurprised when the answers remain evasive.

He waits until they are alone in his room to ask the question that really matters.

“It was that storm, wasn't it?”

Nie Huaisang freezes in the act of pouring tea, looking like a rabbit who spotted a hawk. Slowly, hesitantly, he nods.

“If you ascended, why are you here?”

“This is home,” Nie Huaisang simply says. Then, when his brother frowns, he adds: “I never expected to ascend, and when it happened, I realised I didn't want to. They gave me all those rules to follow, they told me I couldn't see you again, couldn't go home again and that was... I belong here. I belong in the Unclean Realm. Maybe when you're gone I'll feel differently, but for now this is home and I'm not going anywhere. The Heavenly Emperor himself could order me to leave and I wouldn't. Which is exactly what I told him before I came back here.”

“You rebelled against the Heavenly Emperor.”

Nie Huaisang nods.

“You're an idiot.”

“I was fourteen!” Nie Huaisang protests. “I should never have ascended! I wasn't prepared for it! I'm still not prepared for it. I don't care about their rules, I don't care about emperors and gods and anything else. But I care about my home, and I care about my people, and I care about what's right.”

Nie Mingjue sighs. This is so wrong, on so many levels. There are reasons why gods don't meddle with mortal affairs, why they stay in their own domain most of the time. This is wrong and it'll bring trouble down the line, he's sure of it, but... but suddenly, so much makes sense, and he's proud of Nie Huaisang.

“I'm not calling you 'Highness',” he warns.

“I sure hope not. I'm still your didi, now and always.”

Nie Mingjue smiles, and pulls his heavenly brother into a tight hug. Everything else is going to be different, but this bond between us will never change, he's certain of that.

[acdeaky]

are you ready for love?

warning: fluff, alcohol consumption, strong language, slight angst?

note: congrats on 4k followers @writingfortoomanyfandoms​​ ! i began writing this and then fell out of love with it, but i (finally) figured out the ending and fell back in love! enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

black lives matter

“what I'm saying is - and this is not a come on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way!” dan spoke, a little too loudly for the restaurant the group was in, trying to voice his (very out-of-date) opinion above the rest of the group. he was met with a lot of voices arguing he was wrong, and a fry from shane’s plate. “what?” he practically whined. 

“just because you want to shag any girl you're friends with, and who doesn't have a boyfriend, doesn't mean that every guy is the same!” harry perked up, practically punching dan in the arm after his comment. 

“it so means every guy is the same,” dan argued, looking over at you. “you and ben are only close because he wants to get in your pants.”

“why did we let him join?” you asked everyone else, basically pretending that dan wasn't sat a few seats away from you. 

“because he's my brother and has no other friends.” erin replied from next to you, a hand resting on your thigh which was pressed against her’s.

“that is not true.”

“oh, dan, sweetie, it is.” erin just smiled sarcastically at her brother, her eyes showing faux sympathy. 

“you all know i’m right, but you don't want to say it,” another chorus of disagreement came from the group, as did another fry from shane’s plate. “mate, would you stop that?” shane just shook his head, wrapping his arm around the back of renee’s chair and lightly brushed his fingers against your shoulder. next to ben, you were definitely closest to shane with him being like a big brother to you. 

somehow, the rest of the meal went without a hitch. dan quieted down with the unpopular opinions and everyone else enjoyed each other’s company as they finished their meals and had a few drinks afterwards. shane and renee were the first ones to leave. both of them had had long days at work, but made it out for the meal, and were now more than ready to collapse into their bed. harry and erin were next. as they paid their part and begun to leave, they dragged dan out with them, keeping him from saying something inappropriate to you and/or lucy. 

after those three left, you and lucy stayed a little longer. it had been a while since the two of you had hung out together alone, and a catchup with definitely needed. 

“so what’s the real reason ben didn’t come tonight? he's definitely not ill else you would be there nursing him back to health.” she teased, giving you a light prod to your side. 

“he didn't want to have to deal with comments from dan,” you stated plainly. “and i’m glad ben didn’t come else he would have had to deal with exactly what he didn't want to deal with.”

“yeh, that's fair. maybe we should stop inviting dan to these things.”

“maybe,” you both giggled, thinking of how much more civilised somethings would be without him. “that's too mean, though. erin would not be happy.” 

“she most definitely wouldn't be, but dan’s a dickhead.”

“oh, yeh.” the two of you sat gigging for a little longer, the few drinks the both of you had had making their way completely into your system. after chatting for a little longer (and realising you should both definitely go home), you paid the rest of the bill and left, still chatting as you got into your car, travelling back to your same apartment building.

the ride home wasn't long. luckily, the group had mutually decided on a restaurant that was close to both of your apartments, meaning it only took about ten minutes to get home. the traffic was light and it seemed that every light turned green just in time for you. sooner than you knew, you were heading out of the garage of the apartment building, heading towards the lift and pressing the ninth floor button for lucy and the tenth floor button for you. as you reached her floor, you shared a slightly emotional goodbye with each other. it took exactly 23 seconds to get from the lift to your apartment (you had counted many times) and as you swung the door open, there was ben, sat idly on your sofa with his feet up and netflix playing on the TV. 

“hello, wanderer.” he teased as he heard you pull off your shoes and collapse onto the sofa next to him. “did you have fun? was dan a dick?”

“when is dan not a dick?” you only replied, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you turned your body into ben’s. one of his hands lifted off of his thigh for you to do so, landing back down on your knee. 

“that's true. what did he say this time?”

“that men and women can't be friends because the sex part gets in the way.”

“well that's not true, look at us!” ben said, his eyes quickly flitting to you and then straight back to the TV. 

“yeh, look at us.” 

“you are woman, i am man. we no sex.” he spoke in a deeper voice, making you giggle at his ridiculous impression of a caveman. 

“i’m just glad you weren't there; another comment from him would have sent your fist through his face.” 

“oh, yeh. but erin would not have been happy.”

“she most definitely wouldn't be.” you giggled again, thinking back to the conversation you had had with lucy. “i’m actually so tired, i think i’m just calling it a night. you stay as long as you like” as you got up, you pointed to ben, giving him a look which said ‘keep it down’ which he replied with a salute. you gave the other a quiet ‘night’ before placing a kiss on his cheek and dragging your feet to your bedroom. 

as you got ready for bed, you couldnt help but think back to what dan had said. if you told erin and lucy (or even ben) that you were contemplating his words, they would have told you to stop and say that ‘dan was just being dan. he didn't mean it’. you just couldn’t help thinking about whether it was true. of course, you were close to shane and harry, but they both had girlfriends, they definitely wouldn't want anything to do with what’s in your pants. but you were also close to ben, and he didn't have a girlfriend. the only explanation for you two being close was that he wanted what was in your pants, not in your head nor your heart. 

it pained you to think of that; ben being here only to try it on. of course, ben was attractive and had sex appeal, but he was also your best friend and you weren't about to jump in to bed with him at the first chance. you have never, and will never, go about relationships like that. to you, it was unbelievable how much you let dan’s comment cloud your mind, yet you almost hoped there was some truth to it. 

only a wall away, ben was sat thinking the exact same thing. the show he was binging was still playing in the background, but in the forefront of his mind was dan’s comment. ben knew men and women could be friends without sex getting involved; he had those relationships with all the girls in the group, except her. although he wouldn't openly admit it to anyone, he had developed feelings, but didn't want to ruin what the two had by trying it on with her. so ben sat back and tried to let his feelings settle. that instantly failed when he continued to hang out with her almost everyday and talk to her everyday. it didn't take him long to realise he was in love. 

ben didn't stay for much longer; his eyes were being to strain to properly see the TV and dan's comment was still lingering in his thoughts. he quietly turned off the TV and left the room, practically tiptoeing past your room as he entered the guest room (which was almost his considering how often he slept in it). all he did was slip out of his jeans, jumper and socks, leaving on his boxers and slid into bed. just like you, it didn't take him long to fall asleep, soon drifting off nestled within the comfy sheets and only imagining what it would be like to hold you in his arms. 

in the morning, ben woke up before you (like usual) and set himself the task of making breakfast. he knew you'd be hungry this morning and, as soon as he got out of bed and put on a pair of shorts, he made his way into the kitchen and began making his famous pancakes. it didn't take long for you to wake up nor did it take long for you to smell the pancakes. 

“morning, chef.” you smiled lazily as you walked into the kitchen. 

“morning to you, too.” like usual in a morning, ben was clad in some shorts and a plain t-shirt as he stood in front of the hob. the teapot had already been filled and there was a half empty cup stood on the side next to the hob. “sleep well?”

“yeh, i guess.” ‘don't tell him’ you thought to yourself. “i just couldn't stop thinking about dan's comment last night.” 

“love, i've told you before to take no notice of him-”

“no, ben, he said something else last night. not just the men and women and sex thing.”

“well, what else did he say?” he asked, less annoyed this time, switching off the ring and giving you his full attention.

“he said that you and i are only close because you want to get into my pants.” although he asked you to tell him (and you would have told him anyway), you couldn’t help but feel ashamed at telling ben. you knew he would be mad that you let something dan said cloud your judgement about him, but you also knew that he would deny it. you wished he wouldn’t.

“you know that’s not true, right?” there it was. “you know i would never do that to you, or anyone for that matter. don’t let him get into your head; he’s a dick.”

“yeh, course.” you mumbled as ben turned back to the pan, flipping out the pancake onto a plate. as both of you ate, you sat talking about anything and everything. you were content just being here with ben, and yet you still couldn’t get those thoughts out of your head.

to ben, all you would be is his best friend; he made that perfectly clear last night and this morning. to you, your feelings would always be there, making it unfair on anyone else you dated. your heart was wrapped around ben indefinitely.

after breakfast was finished and the kitchen was tidy, you said your goodbyes to ben (even though you don’t normally kick him out this early), making up a lie about finishing off some things for work. what you really wanted to do was talk to erin and lucy; you needed to empty your head to someone.

“hey, you guys are okay to chat, right?” you asked as soon as the facetime connected to the both of them.

“yeh, of course!” “i’ve got my wine, i’m ready.” they both replied, supportive smiles already on their faces.

“okay, i’m sorry i’m bringing this up again, but i’m still thinking about dan’s comment last night.”

“which one?” erin giggled, taking a sip of her wine.

“the one about ben only being close to me because he wants to get in my pants.”

“that’s not true.”

“it’s true.”

“what?” you and erin asked lucy, who sat with a slight smirk on her face.

“ben does want to get into your pants, but not as a one time fling or being friends with benefits, he really likes you.”

“he does?”

“yeh,” both you and erin looked at each other, pure shock coming over your face and slight shock on erin’s. “he got drunk with the lads one night and came to my place instead of yours-”

“makes sense,” erin perked up, taking another sip of her wine. “your apartment is literally a floor below Y/N’s.”

“exactly; he miscounted the floor numbers and came to my door. he kept on apologising so i let him in and he just ranted about dan saying stupid things again about the two of you. then he spilt his feelings and almost broke down asking me not to say anything. i told him he should go to your place and tell you himself. he said he would and i assumed he did, but obviously-”

“he didn’t. that night he came up to my apartment and basically passed out on the sofa. i pulled his shoes off and left him a glass of water and some painkillers for the morning. that was it; he didn't really say anything at all until the next morning.” you frowned, thinking at how literally minutes before ben stumbled into your apartment, he'd stumbled out of lucy’s. 

“wow, well i knew benny boy had feelings, but i didn’t know he did that.” erin said, turning and making sure harry hadn't heard any of that conversation. 

“no one knew, i kept ben’s drunk escapade a secret. he couldn’t even remember it happening.” after that, all three of you were slightly stunned into silence. it was a minute before anyone spoke. 

“what are you gonna do?” erin’s voice was small, something that isn't normal for her. her wine glass had been discarded (though half empty) and she and lucy were both looking at you. you knew your face hadn't change. even without looking at your screen, you knew the only look on your face was disbelief. 

“i-i don't know.”

“surely you're gonna do something?” lucy gasped. 

“and say what to him? ‘hey, ben. i've just been chatting to our good friend lucy and it turns out you drunkenly told her about your feelings for me’. i’m not good with confrontation!”

“and that's why you two will never be together!” erin chuckled, shaking her head at you. 

“what do you mean?

“i mean, you're scared of confrontation and ben will never admit his feelings for you because he's scared you’ll reject him.”

“but i wouldn’t-”

“he doesn’t know that.” she was right. ben doesn’t know what you're thinking, and you don't know what he's thinking. right now, the only way to get over the situation is if you say something. yet, you couldn't help but think that ben’s drunken confession was just that: drunken and stupid.

“i need some time to think, girls.”

“okay.” 

“just keep us in the loop, yeh?” lucy asked, pity absolutely drowning her face. 

“will do, bye.” you waved as did lucy and erin, saying their own goodbyes before you ended the call. 

this had changed everything. of course it had. you definitely didn't feel the same way you did before the call, and you definitely didn't feel the same way about ben as you did before the call. you couldn’t help but think if this had changed things, if this had given you the confidence to finally tell ben about how you feel. 

it was something to sleep on, something to cloud your thoughts for another night. 

but you didn’t get the chance to do that. before you had even managed to settle down for the night, there was a loud, and brash, knock at your door. the thought of ignoring them crossed your mind, hoping it would be a drunken fool who had stumbled across the wrong apartment.

yet, no matter how long you stayed laying on your back, staring at the blank canvas of your ceiling, the knocking did not cease. with a grumble, you made your way through your apartment and towards the front door, not bothering to switch on any of the lights on your way.

as soon as your door was open, whoever was on the other side flung themselves inside, stumbling as they attempted to pull off their shoes. you couldn’t even see who the person was, the low light of the hallway doing little to help you figure out who the intruder was.

and, just as you were about to speak up, the person spoke - though it was more of a grumble - and said, “luce, i’m sorry for doin’ this again.” ben. his voice was slurred and his actions were full of haste. the way he threw his shoes to the side and his jacket on to the floor made you realise he truly thought he was on the floor below; everywhere he was throwing things were where lucy had furniture.

then you realised something else; it was happening again. that night lucy had told you about, with ben drinking with the lads, had happened again. though, you weren’t sure if he was drinking alone or not, but whatever had happened to ben had made him feel the need to see lucy, before anything.

“i know it’s prob’ly late, but i can’t stop thinking about her and you’re the only person who knows how i feel.” came ben’s mumbling voice again. he sounded weak, vulnerable, something you’d never heard in any tone of his voice before. well, there were some exceptions, but this voice, this tone, was something else. and it scared you.

but you stayed quiet, waiting for ben to either say something again or... something else to happen, like a meteor hitting the earth, to save the both of you from this conversation.

“fuck, you moved things around in here?” he grumbled, walking around to find something to grip onto or sit on.

your head was screaming to say something, to reply and end whatever this was, yet your heart was screaming to save yourself the heartache (from what, you didn’t know).

it wasn’t until ben managed to find a lightswitch that your heart began to race even faster than before. you were met with his disheveled look, his boots haphazardly pulled off and scattered across your floor and his jacket thrown carelessly across the wood of your dining table mismatched his reddening eyes and mess of his hair.

and, as if time was frozen, ben stood against the wall of your apartment, his eyes as wide as ever and his heart thumping against the case of his chest. you were no better; at least you knew who had stumbled into your apartment, but ben was in shock. because it was you. of course it was you, who else could make ben’s heart beat as fast as you could?

which is why ben stood still, acting as if he stayed deadly still, the predator before him would ignore his very existence. but the elephant was in the room, and you could not ignore the existence of that.

“ben,” you whispered, your voice stretching out to fill the gap between your bodies. instead, it died upon it’s journey, failing to reach the only person who mattered to you at that minute. “ben, it’s okay: i know.”

that didn’t settle his nerves. the only things those two words did was set his heart racing faster and he felt like his world was collapsing in on himself.

“no,” he shook his head, finally pulling his eyes away from your glance, turning his back towards you as his hands made his hair even more of a mess. “no, it’s not okay.”

but it was. it was more than okay because somewhere between ben stumbling through your door and this moment right now, you had found the courage to tell him that you knew, that you felt the same, this it was okay.

taking advantage of his back facing you, you stepped over to him carefully. at first, you were unsure of your movements, letting your hands linger in the air just above ben’s back before you took the final step and pressed them against his t-shirt-covered skin. the muscles in his back tensed and tightened, but he quickly let the warmth and welcoming feeling of you relax him.

only then did you become more confident, letting your hands move lightly over his back, mapping every bump and dimple they found. you ventured down to ben’s hips, covering the skin of his sides before settling around his front on his stomach.

“it’s okay, ben.” you said once again, your voice falling into a quiet whisper next to the shell of his ear as your chin rested on his shoulder. both of hands met yours. they were warm and fit comfortably between yours, something you had always imagined.

“how do you know?” he tested the waters, only letting his voice be loud enough for you to hear, like this was your little secret. you weren’t sure if ben was asking how you knew how he felt or how things would be okay, but you chose the former.

“lucy told me,” you replied in an equal tone, moving your head from his shoulder to press against his back, just between his shoulder blades. “she told me about that night you went to her apartment after you had been out with the boys: she told me how you felt about me.”

“and?” he said soon after, not wanting to wait any longer for a response that could change his life.

“ben, you mean the world to me, and i was always afraid that if we began a relationship, it could ruin our friendship. but i’m not afraid of that anymore, and i just want what i want: you.”

ben had never felt so sober. he had begun the night alone and, somehow, ended it in your arms; one of the places he didn’t think he’d be for a while.

his thumb began tracing small circles on the back of your hand, letting himself know that this was real and this was happening. it also grounded you. it gave you something to focus on when you needed it. but you didn’t want it to be that; you wanted it to be something that happens regularly and often. now, that might happen.

reluctantly, you pulled your hands from his, taking your arms away from his body as you circled around him. once his face met yours, neither of you could hold in the tiny smile which threatened to appear at the corner of your lips. god, you could only imagine what his lips felt like, what they tasted like. and you imagined that they felt like silk.

your hands quickly found purchase on ben’s body once again. this time, you traced the outline of his face, allowing yourself to take your time as you moved along his jawline. as one hand did that, the other tangled it’s fingers into the hair on the nape of his neck - something that he was growing out for a role, but you enjoyed it regardless.

ben was so overwhelmed, the only place he could find to anchor himself to you were your hips. he squeezed and pressed the skin lightly, wanting to live in the moment as much as he could, just in case you slipped through his fingertips, like silk does.

you can’t help but notice that you’ve never seen him like this before, so vulnerable and open to you and your touch. of course, you had touched each other before, but not with the softness and meaning like now.

“i want you, too,” ben finally whispered, never letting his gaze falter from you. his hands seemed to grip your hips a little harder as your hands slid down from his head and onto his shoulders. “that’s all i’ve wanted since i met you.”

just then, you pushed yourself onto the balls of your feet, managing to slightly close the gap between you and ben as his head bowed lower, too. your lips met like a perfect melody, so soft and gentle and better than you could have ever imagined.

slowly, and once again, your hands traced their way up ben’s skin, circling around his neck before toying with those little hairs you had suddenly become so fond of. and, as a response, ben’s hands shifted from your hips to your lower back quicker than you could register, pushing and pulling your body flush with his own.

his hands were warm and big and better than you could have imagined. they were strong, keeping the two of you together in perfect harmony as you explored the other’s touch after so, so long.

but, then ben pulled away, keeping you pressed against his chest while looking down at you, your lips swollen and red and, god, so beautiful. he only smiled, pulling away to grab your hand a second later.

he was your personal guide through your home, taking you towards your bedroom (only after turning off the light he switched on earlier). as soon as you got in the room, ben let you go, turning to close the door as you stood waiting for him; you almost felt like a stranger, standing there in your own room with no feeling of anything but ben.

once the door clicked shut, he turned his attention back to you. while he walked forward, you stumbled backwards, only stopping when the back of your knees hit the side of your bed.

“get in,” he spoke gently, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “i’ll be there in a second.” and so you did. since you were already about to settle down for the night when ben knocked on the door, you just sat underneath the covers again.

seeing the cast of ben’s shadow on your walls from the beaming moon was a sight you knew you would never tire of. the way he moved gracefully as he pulled off his shirt and jeans, leaving on only his boxers and turning back to you.

he was a ghost striding towards you. a vision as his body drifted towards you, so bright and beautiful under the moon, so quiet as he slipped under the covers to lay next to you; his arms open and welcoming.

so you accepted, letting yourself have this, this moment, with ben. you found yourself tucked into his side, one arm dragged across his torso with your head on his chest. his left arm wrapped itself around your shoulders, his right arm laying adjacent to yours, letting your fingertips touch and ghost along one another.

you stayed there, for a minute or two, just getting used to each other’s rise and fall of your chests and the dips and bumps of each other’s skin. neither of you had felt more at peace than in that moment.

and as you lay there in ben’s arms, the steady beating in his heart right below your ear and finally feeling content, you knew that you were ready for love.

-

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