#hob WILL teach dream the meaning of friendship

[alteon77]

That Familiar Feeling of Family (or how Hob Gadling ended up as an uncle to his stranger's oftentimes feral children): Chapter 2

It's a pretty universally known thing that families are just strange. As Hob is quickly figuring out, however, this little fact is magnified by AT LEAST a billion when the family in question is Endless.

(A lighthearted story in which Hob Gadling finds out his stranger has married, makes friends with a homicidal maniac/ruler, and manages to become an exemplary uncle to a pack of magically mischievous children. Really, now all he has to do is convince everyone to stop calling his and Dream's weekly meetups "playdates", and then his life will be practically perfect.)

Chapter One here, AO3 here, Masterlist here

In the year 1689, Hob Gadling stumbles into the Tavern of the White Horse dressed in little more than disgusting rags. It doesn't shock him that almost immediately he finds himself having an altercation with the guard they'd placed at the door precisely to keep Hob's type out. But what does shock him is that it's his stranger who intervenes, a passionate fury told on his finely chiseled face that Hob is honestly too tired (and hungry) to overly examine much at the moment. 

"This man is my guest," his stranger says, an authority in his voice that Hob, even in his current state of starvation, guesses is nice enough. With the strange reversal of fortune that Hob's spent the past few decades dealing with, it's reassuring to have someone, anyone, stick up for him. Even if that someone is the enigmatic devil who'd both blessed and cursed Hob with eternal life. 

When he collapses into a chair across from his host for the evening, Hob digs into the bread, consuming it so quickly that he has to remind himself to chew, to breathe as his stomach cramps with its desire to have food in it. And his stranger, usually a bit… well, prudish, only sits back and listens as Hob speaks of his woes, seemingly uncaring of Hob's lack of manners or the solid finger-breadth thick layer of filth covering him. 

Of course, his stranger remains as aloof as he's always been. The cut of his clothing is finely done, making both him and Hob appear as if they're sitting on exact opposite sides of the table in more ways than one given the tattered remnants of Hob's own rags as they hang loose about his body. Though he is also patient this night, speaking pleasantly and pityingly despite that their conversation mainly consists of Hob mumbling things at him around a mouth full of food.

As the meal concludes, Hob is almost… ashamed of the way he doesn't want to leave his stranger's presence. In the years of stormy, utterly bleak upheaval that Hob has known recently, Dream is a bit like a lighthouse on a distant shore, the brightness of him cutting through all the gloom so that Hob is nearly afraid to venture out alone into the gale force winds and darkness of his life now. 

But he does so anyway. 

This is, after all, their arrangement. They meet once every hundred years. No more. No less. 

So Hob stumbles from the tavern, drowsy from his full belly, and finds an alley in which to promptly pass out. For the first time in years, he sleeps deeply. Astoundingly deeply, he'd say. Or he would say, he supposes, were he not practically unconscious and all. In his dreams, he finds himself on a path, its way dotted on each side with large, sprawling trees whose branches hang low with apples, shiny and red and perfect. He plucks one for himself, and despite that he knows he's still full, that he's just gorged himself on a rather large quantity of food during his centennial meeting with his stranger, Hob can't seem to resist taking a bite. 

He moans. It's otherworldly in its perfection, juicy and firm, the taste sweet with just the smallest hint of tartness to it. He chews what's in his mouth, savoring every last masticated piece of it before he swallows. 

When he wakes, the memory of his dream's warmth is still lingering on his skin, and for a moment, it almost feels as if the bright sunshine of that place has followed him here. It's not to last, though. Hob, as an immortal, knows all too well that that's the nature of living. Nothing is forever. 

Well, except for him, apparently. And his stranger. 

Still, the next night it rains, and the deluge that soaks him is bitterly cold. Hob finds another alley, tucking himself as far under the small overhang of a butcher's shop door as he can in some futile effort to stay dry and hopefully avoid freezing to death. It won't kill him, but the thawing of icy limbs is bloody painful, which makes him… reticent to experience such a thing if he can avoid it.  

Sleep takes him again, and he's somewhat surprised to find himself back on that same path from the night before. This time, though, he's starving, and he has three apples before he ventures out from the canopy of trees into a meadow so that he can feel the sun on his skin, can let it warm him in anticipation of how chilled he's sure to be when he's pulled from his slumber to face the harsh reality of his real life. 

A week later, Hob starts thinking that something… odd is going on. His days are still miserable, but his nights are… peaceful, wondrous even, the serene calm he finds in them mending his mind and his body. He aches less. The vicious hunger pains in his belly plague him no longer, as if the apples he consumes in his dreams are sustaining him somehow. But that can't be, can it? How addle-brained has he gone that he's even considering that as a possibility?  

Nonetheless, when next he sleeps, he notices the addition of plum and orange trees. After that, there are pomegranates and pears. And then… one night there's an entire table set with a feast fit for a king. 

And Hob knows he should question this unexpected good fortune after the dismal dreariness of decades of bad luck, but he decides not to. He instead partakes of the bounties he is given and thanks whatever deity strikes his fancy for these gifts of plenty. Even though he is aware that this strange kindness is only a dream. 

PRESENT DAY...

The next night, Hob isn't surprised to find the girl waiting for him.

Aurora is in an embroidered lavender dress made of something like silk or taffeta, the iridescent skirt of it swishing just above the tops of her black boots, boots that Hob's relatively sure are just miniature versions of the ones he'd noticed his stranger wearing the day before. Her pitch black hair is plaited back, though there are a few wayward curls that have worked free and dangle in front of her face. She seems to pay them no mind, however, unbothered by the sure annoyance of them in the way that only children can ever seem to manage. 

"Hi, Mr. Hob!" Aurora greets cheerfully, offering him a brilliant smile as she reaches out to take hold of his hand, using her grasp to pull him with her as she walks. "My mommy sent me to get you."

"Your… mommy?" He doesn't quite know if it's nervousness that he's feeling at the prospect of meeting the newly discovered (to him anyway) Mrs. Stranger. Will she be like Dream? Maybe worse? Maybe more haughty and inhuman? Could she end up hating Hob for being as normal as he is? Might she even try and dissuade Dream from seeing him again?

"Yep. She said Dadda needed a playdate."

Then again, with an answer like that, Hob tells himself that he could be possibly worrying over absolutely nothing. If she's brought him here to see Dream, then obviously it's not to stop them from meeting. Or having a playdate. Which… Playdate? Hob fights his wince, because he can unfortunately imagine the scowl on Dream's face when he hears that particular descriptor applied to their every century gatherings. 

"Well, we're not really due our next get-together for about 98 years," he tells Aurora, careful to emphasize the words get-together so that she might use those in lieu of the term playdate.

"But why?" she asks, glancing up at him with more than a bit of confusion in her shimmery blue eyes, and Hob doesn't understand why exactly they're so… twinkly. He peers down at her, studying them.

"What do you mean?" is his murmured question, and he thinks that… Wait. Are those stars? Does she have literal stars shining out from her eyes?

She blinks, and it snaps him out of his scrutiny like she's just clapped in front of his face and ordered him to focus. "You and Dadda are friends."

"Yes?" He doesn't quite know where she's going with this, but she seems very determined in whatever she's getting at.

"Daniel is my friend, and I see him every we… every week for a playdate."

Oh, no no no. There's that word again. Playdate. He wonders briefly if he should just firmly instruct her not to use it. Would she heed his advice? Is that even his place?

"Your dadda," Hob begins, still not sure how he feels about that word being used in reference to his stranger. "He decided we should have a meeting every century."

"But you're friends."

"Yes. I believe so."

"Mommy said you were."

Even he's not stupid enough to argue with a child about his or her mother and what they've said. When his Robyn had been a small lad, Eleanor's words had been law to the boy, so powerful that his son often acted like they were the building blocks of reality itself. "Oh. Silly me. Then of course we are."

"I think I need to have a talk with my dadda about how he should behave with his friends, then." She sounds resigned, vaguely exasperated, as if she has to do this often with her father. And somehow, Hob thinks that if she were to have that talk, his stranger might actually… listen? It’s an odd thing to consider, this slip of a girl lecturing the unsociable (to put it mildly) Dream of the Endless on how to properly conduct a friendship. Not that Hob doesn't think his stranger couldn't use a healthy dose of lecturing on the matter, since his abilities regarding it are frankly the worst of any he's ever came across.  

"He's very nice," she goes on, and Hob has to forcibly stop himself from laughing at that. Dream? Nice? Hob decides he won't touch that one with a three hundred meter pole. Not in front of Dream's actual child anyway. When Hob gets a chance to properly speak to him, however, he might have a few things to say about his stranger's niceness. Or lack thereof. "And he really tries to always be good, but he… doesn't get it right sometimes."

Sometimes? Pfft. That's an understatement if he's ever heard one, the radioactive icing on a cake made of this poor, naive girl's dross.

Wisely, he doesn't say that either. Instead he asks, "Did your mother tell you that as well?"

"No. But she says that Dadda has as much emotional intell… intell…"

"Intelligence?"

"Yes! She says he has as much of that as the bottoms of my boots do." Aurora frowns like she's thinking over her words very seriously. "Is that something that shoe bottoms have lots of?"

"What? Emotional intelligence?"

"Mmm-hmm."

And Hob really doesn't know how to answer that. He feels like it would be disloyal to Dream were he to confess to this child how… clueless her father is when it comes to interacting with others. Though he wonders why it should strike him as disloyal or why he should have any sense of loyalty at all, since apparently Dream is a repressed git who couldn't even be bothered to tell Hob, his friend by his own admission, that he'd married and had a child. "Er…"

"So… no."

"I dunno, honestly," Hob lies. He refuses to allow himself any guilt about it, either, because sometimes lies are acceptable, especially when they might spare a young child's feelings. "Maybe? Maybe not? I'm not a mum, so I don't even pretend to have any of their mysterious wisdom."

"You might be right, Mr. Hob," Aurora declares after a minute. "My mommy is very smart. And funny. Though Dadda says her sense of humor is horrid."

Ha. Hob bets his stick in the mud personification of a friend understands humor about as well as Hob himself understands how thermodynamic fusion works. And he can imagine that any woman married to Dream would probably benefit from being able to laugh at just what in the hell she'd gotten herself into by wedding and bedding such a standoffish clodpole. 

But he's not going to say that either. The truth is that he's… upset with Dream currently, and he'd rather save all of his anger for when they finally get to have their one on one playdate. He shakes his head, like by doing so he can shake that term from his mind. Not playdate. Meeting. Gathering. Encounter. Literally, he needs to refer to it as anything else besides a playdate. 

Hob tears his gaze away from Aurora, taking a moment to look around wherever they're at, a luxury he hadn't been afforded the day before since he'd been… well, running for his life and all. 

And what he sees there nearly takes his breath away.

He… He knows this place.

Trees line either side of the path they're on, their limbs stretching out over it like a canopy. Amidst the emerald green leaves, apples hang low and heavy, their heft making some of the thinner branches droop, and the scent of the fruit fills up the air, causing his mouth to water with the memory of it. 

It hasn’t changed at all in the centuries since Hob used to find refuge here.

"This is the or…orchard," Aurora supplies, reaching up on her tiptoes to snatch one of the perfect red globes in her free hand before rubbing it on her dress and handing it to him. "You can eat it. The trees are happy to have the weight of them off their arms, and I do it all the time while I'm waiting for cookies to finish baking."

The trees don't… mind? Do they speak here? Is there anything about this place or the being who runs it that's even close to ordinary? But of course not. Hob's known for a long time that his stranger isn't anything close to normal, so he supposes it makes sense that Dream's home would likely be just as outlandish as everything else about him.

"Cookies?" he questions, taking the offering from her, his stomach twisting in remembrance. "Does your dadda… make you those?"

Her eyebrows raise high on her forehead, a look of such childish incredulity on her face that Hob automatically assumes the answer to be a giant no, which is… sort of a relief. The mental image of his stranger wearing a bright pink apron and matching oven mitts while waiting impatiently for a timer to go off is one that could likely make his brain explode in sheer absurdity. 

"No, Mr. Hob. Minnie does the cookies."

"Minnie?"

She grins, standing on her tiptoes again to snatch an apple for herself. "Minnie is one of my favorites. She cooks alllll day and sometimes she even lets me help!"

Minnie… cooks. All day long, apparently. Why is he not surprised that his stranger seems to have his own chef here? His reluctance to consume any food over the centuries certainly makes more sense now. Why in the world would his stranger have eaten at The White Horse when he got to come home to a chef ready to prepare his meals however he liked. 

"Are there… other fruits here?" he questions, unsure as to whether or not he wants the answer given what it might confirm for him, but certain that he has to know regardless. 

"Yep," she supplies. "Oranges and plums and some other kinds I don't like very much."

"Pomegranates and pears, I'd imagine."

"How'd you… know that, Mr Hob?"

"A guess is all." His heart is thudding in his chest though, the realization of why he'd likely had that dream so frequently making his stomach twist in emotion. 

That awkward, aloof…. tosspot. Hob doesn't have a doubt in his mind that Dream had been aware of his escape to this place. Hell and damnation, there's even the chance that he'd started directing him here in some weird show of affection, despite that the plonker hadn't seemed to know what affection was back in those days. Stunned, he thinks over Aurora's declaration earlier that Dream was nice, that he tried to be good.

And kind of hates that she might possibly have been… Well, right.

Not that Hob is an idiot about it. He knows that his stranger isn't exactly a teddy bear or anything. His impression of Dream has always been that the otherworldly entity doesn't seem to much care about others, that the problems of humans are just… insignificant to him, probably as uninteresting as ants milling about on a picnic blanket while they march towards a basket in hopes of plunder. However, to think Dream might have done something so… considerate for Hob, no matter how clueless his stranger can be, makes him feel heavy and light all at the same time, as if he's both touched and overwhelmed by the sentiment inherent in Dream's actions. 

He hasn't the time to think very long on it, however. Aurora, seemingly energetic in a way that Hob has never seen from her father Dream, takes his hand again to lead him further into this odd world. She's quite clearly a tactile child, brushing those fingers of hers not tucked against his palm over blades of grass and flowers along the path while they walk. She hums a tune under her breath like she's talking to the flora they pass, and it's almost as if they're answering, their petals unfurling at her touch, the tightly budded blooms blossoming when she gets near. Still, for as tactile as she surely is, she's also very, very chatty, managing to pepper him with a multitude of questions even as she lavishes attention on the greenery. 

"Do you have a cat?" is her first one, given when she glances expectantly up at him. "Dadda likes cats best, I think."

"No."

"A dog? Like Archibald?" A smile lights up her face. "Does yours turn into a dragon too?"

Not bloody likely, Hob wants to say. It's not that he's a coward, per se, but more that he still has enough of a sense of self preservation to make the idea of even getting near another dragon a properly terrifying one. "No dogs either."

She scrunches her face up like she's trying to think of what other nonhuman companion Hob might have. "A… turtle?" she tries, looking dubious at her own suggestion.

"I don't have any pets, lambkin." He freezes suddenly, sorrow fogging up his mind for a moment. Lambkin. That endearment. It's what he had called his son when he was a little lad, and Hob hadn't meant to say it just then. It had been an unthinking term of affection, one that had rolled off his tongue by sheer instinct. 

When he chances a glance at Aurora, he's alarmed to see that the stars in her eyes have dimmed slightly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hob."

He can't help his frown. This child doesn't know that the loss of his son still hurts him, that sometimes he remembers Robyn's smiling face and his heart clenches tight in grief. "For what?"

"For making you sad," she offers quietly, and that sense of panic washes over him for only a few seconds before he finds himself feeling… warm and comforted, like someone's given his mind a hug. It's disconcerting but also… pleasant? 

Could this girl… be seeing his thoughts? It seems as if she asks far too many questions for that to be a possibility, but… Hob is well aware that Dream is capable of something similar, that he seems to know everyone. And yet he still doesn't hesitate to verbally inquire after the events of Hob's latest century whenever they speak. 

Aurora appears crestfallen, like she's worried that she's misstepped or said something she ought not have, and Hob forces himself to focus on that instead of the turbulent what if's banging about in his head. 

"You didn't make me sad," he rushes to reassure her. "I made myself sad."

"But… why?" Her expression is one of such confusion that Hob could almost laugh if he didn't fear it might hurt her feelings.

"Well, I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"I'm still sorry you feel that way." And she seems so… genuine, so sweet in that way of innocent children, that Hob finds himself grinning at her for it.

He wants to say something funny, something charming that'll draw a giggle out of her, but they step out of the orchard then, and the sight before him is too staggering in its wonder for Hob to really concentrate on anything else. 

It's… beautiful. Magnificent. So incredibly astounding that he… he feels almost as if he cannot breathe from the sheer splendor of it, like the transcendence of it has bypassed his brain and wormed its way into his body instead. 

There's lush grass almost as far as the eye can see, a riotous multitude of fragrant, vibrant flowers dotting it. Their colors, deep crimsons and violets, oranges and yellows, are lovely, almost unreal in how crisp they are, in how heady their scents are. The entirety of the greenery ends just on the banks of a great body of water. A river, maybe? He can make out the blue of it from here, a perfect cerulean that glimmers sporadically with light when the sun's rays hit it just so, making it almost appear like it’s sparkling. 

A ship bobs gently in place, rocking to and fro where it floats. And he thinks he spots a… wooly mammoth on its deck? But that would be utterly ridiculous, right? Then again, given what he's came across already in this topsy turvy world of Dream's, Hob tells himself that on further consideration, it very likely is a wooly mammoth there that's strolling the planks, barking out orders at its helm as if it's the vessel's fluffy captain. Which, weird as this is to witness, Hob’s just grateful that it’s not another bloody dragon so near to him.

He continues his perusal, taking his fascinated gaze from the ship and its crew. Stretching over the river is a giant bridge, one of several it seems, but this one is unique in that he's pretty sure he recognizes it. Just like the Golden Bridge in Vietnam, massive sculpted hands seem to cradle the structure itself, the tips of the carved fingers resting near the railings like they're holding it aloft in midair.

But all of this, as lovely as it is, doesn't even begin to compare to the castle, his stranger's castle. And yeah, Hob's never seen such a prideful symbol of status in all his long life, so he knows that it must be where the most prideful bastard he's ever had the pleasure of meeting has to live. 

It stands tall across the water's edge, looming imposingly on what appears to be a verdant island, the shimmer in the stone it's built of causing it to look like a glittering diamond nestled atop rich green velvet. When they walk closer, Hob can make out more details in the architecture. The designs of this castle are ornate, meticulously done, and Hob is reminded of Grecian temples and Renaissance cathedrals. 

There are huge sculptures, finely wrought despite their size, and Hob takes note of a large Buddha statue flanking a giant portion of the structure's left side. The wider towers are capped with onion domes like the kind seen on Russian churches or Islamic mosques, their metal roofs gleaming in the sun, but the thinner towers have spires atop them. The overall style is Gothic, from the pointed arches to the peek of a flying buttress off to the right. In truth, however, Hob doesn't think he could pin down a main influence if he tried, except to say that opulence seems to be what his stranger had been going for. It makes sense in the grand scheme of things, given that Dream himself had told Hob that he'd existed for longer than humans had. How does a being like that relate to just one time? One place? Instead, this show of status reminds him of nothing so much as a collection, like it's just been made of all the things Dream simply… enjoys, as if he'd wandered through the market of humanity's history, snatching the bits and bobbles he found pleasing to bring them back here and cobble them all together, creating a fantastical marvel in the process.

Then again, Hob has the feeling that he could probably say that about this entire world of Dream's. 

"I assume that's yours," he drawls, finally shifting his gaze from the castle to Aurora. 

"Indeed it is, Hob Gadling."

Hob feels himself go still at the sound of his stranger speaking, and he turns back to say something, to greet him, to respond with anything more eloquent than the highly embarrassing dadda he'd uttered when last he'd addressed Dream.

Not that he really gets the chance, however, since Aurora chooses that moment to let go of his hand and make a beeline to where her father's standing. 

"Dadda!" she yells, excitement like a living thing in her tone as Dream readily sweeps her up into his arms. Aurora settles into his hold, perching on his slim hip while she leans forward to plant a kiss on his angular cheek, and the whole scene kind of…. softens him a bit in Hob's eyes. For centuries, this pale, powerful entity has been so untouchable to Hob, so unrelatable, but watching Aurora giggle and press yet another kiss to his stranger's cheekbone is almost humanizing to see. 

Hob would never actually say it aloud, but here Dream is almost like any other bloke, just some simple (albeit gloomily dressed) chap with a family of his own and a child that he obviously adores.

"Hello, my starshine. Why ever are you out here alone? Given that Archibald is confined to the palace and you need not chase him in an effort to keep him from trouble, I assumed you'd be with your mother."

"Mommy said it was okay. She said we're going to have tea today!"

Dream raises an eyebrow, blatantly studying the girl. "I see. And was this to be before or after she sent you to collect Hob Gadling?"

Now, Hob knows that Aurora was, in fact, sent to collect him, but he also knows enough to keep his mouth firmly shut about it, especially since Dream looks like he's sniffing out some plot against him like it's a truffle and he's a prized truffle hog. Furthermore, Hob has yet to meet Mrs. Stranger, and he thinks it would be a poor first introduction to bring tidings that he had been the one to tip her ornery husband off about her plan, even if he doesn't actually understand what said plan is. 

"Er… hi?" Hob offers instead, immediately fighting the urge to  groan at his apparent inability to speak plainly in Dream's presence these days. He hasn't really been nervous around his stranger since that second meeting in 1489 when he'd been afraid that he'd made a deal with a devil, and he doesn't quite comprehend why he should feel so tongue tied at present. Maybe because he's learning that he didn't know his oldest friend as well as he thought? Maybe because Dream seems so… different now that he's nearly unrecognizable? Maybe even because he's peeled back a layer of the mopey onion that is Dream's personality and found it might actually be… somewhat soft in the middle?

Dream is still a repressed wanker, granted, but Hob considers the possibility that Dream could be a kind, repressed wanker at the end of the day. And the realization of that is more than a bit shocking. 

"Greetings, Hob Gadling," his stranger says, taking a moment to spare Hob a glance. "Am I to assume my wife invited you for tea?"

"Um…" Hob trails off, wondering how in the ever loving hell he's supposed to answer that.

"No Dadda," Aurora cuts in, giggling again. Hob lets out a slow breath in relief. Twice over now he owes his savior for her rescue of him. "I invited him for tea. It was my first real invitation."

"And your mother assisted you, no doubt?"

"Nope. I wanted you to have a playdate."

Oof. She used the word, which is exactly what Hob had been fearing since he'd heard her utter it that initial time. To Hob's surprise, though, Dream doesn't correct her. Instead, he appears as if he's attempting to suss out whether or not his daughter is telling the truth. Which… she likely isn't, if Hob had to guess. 

"Aurora, are you being dishonest?"

She wilts slightly, her eyes going downcast. "No?"

Hob decides then and there that he's going to have to teach this girl the fine art of dishonesty at some point in the future, because her skills in it are sadly lacking. She is, simply put, abysmal at lying. 

"Perhaps it would be best for you to try that anew," is Dream's command, though it's gentle enough that Hob is almost proud of his stranger for it. Has having a child changed Dream that much? Has it allowed him such empathy and love that he is tempering his response to avoid shaming his daughter? 

And Hob is certain that it would indeed shame this girl to be caught. It's plain to see that this child loves her father tremendously, and she's a sweet thing, likely not given to untruths. He opens his mouth to intervene, to have the focus turned on him, only to find out rather quickly that he's not going to have to bother with doing that after all. 

"I love you, Dadda," Aurora tells Dream sweetly, and by the softening in his stranger's features, Hob can see that it's… working? What? How? Never in a million years would he have thought to witness this pouting, emotionally constipated entity felled so completely by an adorable little girl. Granted, she's an adorable little girl who seems to know how to play her father like a Stradivarius, but Hob thinks it's fair to find himself stunned by it nonetheless.

"As I do you, my starshine." Dream drops a kiss atop her head where she's snuggling against him, her tiny face buried in his neck, and they appear comfortable in this embrace, as if they cuddle like this frequently. Almost in a daze, Hob thinks that if he had his phone with him, he'd take a picture of what he's seeing. They're just so precious together that it puts a lump in his throat, one that he swallows down with great difficulty. 

Dream is apparently not as fooled by this cute distraction as Hob had assumed, though, which is evidenced by his next words. "I will, however, have the truth in this matter, daughter mine."

"Dadda, I'm tired," she murmurs. "And you're being rude to your friend. Mommy would call this a bad example."

Hob almost chokes while he tries to smother his laugh at that, especially when his pale stranger merely sighs heavily, his parental exasperation so ordinary and relatable that Hob thinks the mirth threatening to burst out of him on witnessing it is entirely understandable.

"Of course. I should hate if your ability to socialize were jeopardized by any behavior of mine." And… is it Hob's imagination, or is that comment as dry as the Sahara? He doesn't think he's ever heard so much sarcasm laced in a single sentence before. "Hob Gadling, will you join us for tea? I am certain my wife is expecting you."

He doesn't seem angry upon offering this, which surprises Hob. It's quite obvious that this little girl and her mum had absolutely been conspiring together, and despite Aurora's cuteness, Hob had thought there'd be more…. of a temper tantrum? Maybe a bit of storming off into the rain while both Aurora and Hob yelled after him about the virtues of friendship? He can't help but to think that, though. Unbidden, he remembers chasing his stranger when he'd left (i.e. fled) their meeting in 1889, insisting that they were friends, cursing himself the whole while for startling the obstinate, irritable entity by offering him companionship. Which is all to say that Dream assuredly has priors, doesn't he? And who better than Hob knows how ornery his stranger gets when faced with such terrible things as affection and feelings. 

"Come on, Mr Hob," Aurora pipes up, sounding mysteriously no longer tired, which is just further proof that she had been pretending in front of her father only minutes earlier. "You're my very first guest, and it would make me sad if you didn't accept my invitation."

Not that Hob had even been considering not going, but that just cinches the deal for him. After all, it's never been in his nature to say no to a child, especially when that child is as kind and seemingly goodhearted as this one.

And if a shudder goes through him at that realization, if he suddenly feels like that portends some kind of hilarious doom for him, then Hob brushes the feeling aside. It's just a spot of tea with a wildly charming, powerful little girl and her dramatically less charming but probably more powerful father. What, Hob wonders, could really go wrong?

It isn't until two hours later that Hob finds out the answer to that question. And it's… not great. Because as it turns out, a whole lot can (and does) go wrong during Hob and Dream's playdate.

[tj-dragonblade]

Dreamling Fic Masterpost

In honor of Dreamling Week, here's an updated masterpost of everything I've written for them so far, split into SFW and NSFW. Each section is arranged oldest to newest. Links go to Tumblr posts, and each Tumblr fic post has the direct AO3 link also.

You can also find me HERE on AO3.

(Read More for length so it's not ridiculous when pinned)

💕🌼The Fluff and Assorted Other Offerings🌦️❤️‍🩹 If it's rated M there is a brief spicy passage somewhere in the fic but not enough to warrant the full E

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: glasses Rated T, ~330 words Sometimes Hob wears Glasses

Fluffbruary 2023 Prompt: yesterday Rated G, ~470 words Time works different in the Dreaming

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

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

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

Anticipation Rated T, ~700 words Dream chooses Hob’s Halloween costume (spoiler alert: it's the Wavemother's robe from BG3)

Untitled Knight Hob/King Dream Scene Rated M, ~1300 words A synopsis-plus-scene-draft of a potential Knight Hob and King Dream AU that in all likelihood I will never actually go back to, but I like what's here so it goes on the masterlist

The Keeper and the Traveler Rated G, ~1700 words Not-Exactly-Human AU. A campfire folktale about finding what you didn’t know you were searching for, or something like that. Inspired by Nightwish's 'The Islander'

I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm Rated M, ~6900 words It’s winter in London and Hob is interested in sharing various cold-weather human experiences with his distinctly-not-human boyfriend

Shampoo Rated G, ~550 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Scent'. Big changes also mean small changes, and sometimes a loss can bring gain as well

London Fog Rated M, ~3500 words Sequel to Caribbean Sunset. Human AU. Dream does his best to ignore Possibilities while he copes with returning from holiday

Before I Go Rated G, ~850 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Evening'. A Season-of-Mists-style leave-taking visit, some time later in their relationship

Vogue Rated M, ~750 words Fluffbruary 2024 prompt 'Photography'. Human AU. Dream comes home and Hob greets him with a camera.

☂️The Umbrella Boys series, a Human AU☂️ A Sweet Romance Beginning in a Queue Rated T, ~4500 words 🎶Bus stop, wet day, he’s there, I say, ‘Please share my umbrella’🎶 Love Rain Down On Me Rated M, ~2300 words 5 times those Three Little Words go unspoken, and one time they do not.

Chaos and Calm Rated G, ~1550 words Searching for rain boots and meeting friends in the park. No real plot, just meandering domestic parenting vibes.

🔥🌶️The Spice and the Smut🌶️🔥 (aka The Stuff You Hide in the Pantry at Work For) 😉😘

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

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

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

Of Cutoff Shorts and Classic Cars Rated E, ~4300 words Hob has made some very distinct wardrobe choices on a hot day. Dream approves.

Little Indulgences Rated E, ~1000 words A spot of fun with lingerie and sex toys

Caribbean Sunset Rated E, ~5500 words Human AU. Hob hooks up with a beautiful stranger on a Caribbean cruise

My Song Can But Borrow Your Grace Rated E, ~6800 words Fanfic for Flatter the Mountain Tops by Teejaystumbles (linked in the post). Dragon AU. Hob wants Dream in dragon form to fuck him while he stays in human form; Dream is beginning to see there’s more to it than just a size kink.

Appreciation Rated E, ~4300 words Sequel to Anticipation. Hob wears the costume (the Wavemother's Robe from BG3); Dream has his fun.

On the Edge of a Waking Dream Rated M, ~3900 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Ghost'. Human AU. Dream never believed in ghosts until his boyfriend became one

The Beauty of the Beast Rated E, ~3100 words Monsterfucktober Bingo Square 'Were-creature'. Recently-turned werewolf Hob wants to protect Dream from this new side of him. Dream is. Not interested in being protected.

Ambrosia Rated E, ~4000 words An exercise in celebrating the human messiness (and messy humanness) that Dream finds so attractive in Hob

Customer Service Rated E, ~4500 words For the Dreamling Week 2024 June 5 prompt 'Dirty'. Human AU. Mechanic Hob's just trying to fix the rich guy's Porsche but the rich guy is looking at Hob like he's a five-course meal

[gabessquishytum]

You know what concept doesn’t get explored enough in Dreamling fic? Dream teaching Hob how to read. Like, I’ve seen one or two off mentions of it in canon adjacent fic, but nothing that really gives focus to that idea, y’know? And while I think it would be fun in canon, I’m gonna go au real quick.

So Hob as one of those kids unfortunately left behind. Probably a combination of living in poverty and his undiagnosed adhd. And he’s definitely way too embarrassed by this to actually ask anyone to teach him. So now he’s an adult who doesn’t know much more than his own name and his numbers. And while that probably wouldn’t be enough for most people to get by, what Hob DOES have are people skills. His ability to charm people and talk around them let’s him get through life well enough.

Then there’s Dream, mister wet cat himself. If he’s not an Author™️ then he’s definitely a voracious reader. But he has a personality of a damp paper bag. Like, even he has to admit his lack of social skills is actively hindering his life and relationships at this point. Probably add some autism for ✨flavor✨

But Dream does have moments where he’s too observant for his own good. Which is how he clocks that Hob avoids reading like the plague. (I’m envisioning Hob as a bartender at the pub Dream goes to to try and learn human behavior. But idk if he could avoid reading with that job.)

So Dream corners Hob and proposes a trade off: Dream will teach him how to read and Hob will teach him some social skills. Once Hob realizes he’s not being threatened (seriously, Dream really sucks at this talking to people thing) he hesitantly agrees. At least it’s less embarrassing if Dream also needs to be taught something? And it would be rather helpful…

Obviously during the course of their lessons they fall in love 🥰

This means so much to me!!!! I love it. The idea of Hob hiding the fact that he can't read is so heartbreaking but actually so real and its way more common than people imagine.

I also love the idea of Hob + Dream = One Normal Functioning Adult. That's my favourite thing, when they're each other's missing puzzle piece <3

I figure that Hob might have picked up a few words from around the environment of the bar. Like, each tap has a label on and he knows exactly which is which and he can technically read "Guiness" and "Wherry" and a few others, but they're not the most useful words. Anyways, Dream gets the idea that he'll keep using things around the pub to teach Hob to read: menus, newspapers, posters for old gigs, crisp packets. It's a good way for Hob to build confidence before Dream presents him with an actual book.

And similarly Hob uses the bar as a place to teach Dream about social skills. He coaches him through identifying body language and expressions, quizzing Dream on how he thought each customer might be feeling. Then he encourages three way conversations between him, Dream and regular customers. He gives Dream topics to focus on and gives him safe ways to get out of an interaction that he's not vibing with.

By the time Hob stumbles his way through his first novel, Dream is able to talk to a stranger about the weather without any issues. And they're both mutually crushing on each other so hard!! It only seems fitting that the pub which has been such a cornerstone for their friendship and some pretty awesome personal milestones, is also the place where they have their first date.

Hob reads love sonnets to Dream in a hushed undertone. And it's like the whole building sighs happily at the sights of them together <3

[awanderingdeal]

Never too late - 1-3

There were so many things Regulus wanted to do as child that his parents wouldn’t allow, but Leo is adamant that it is never too late to do those things. They make a list of ten things Regulus wants to do before he decides what his next step in life was going to be, because he refuses to grow up before he even got a chance to be young. 

Disclaimer: Of course you don’t have to have do any of things to have a happy and fulfilled childhood, but Regulus didn’t not get to do them because he had other interests or because he didn’t have the means (and usually, if that is the case, parents will ensure their child have other fun memories). It was a case of having controlling parents, who thought the only important things were school and hockey and there was no reason to have fun outside of those things. He watched his friends having experiences and he didn’t get choose in whether he wanted to participate or not. 

CW: mentions of toxic parenting and frequent mentions of food.

Please message me if you feel anything needs to be added to the content warnings.

Rating:T 

Credit for the sweater universe and the characters within it go to @lumosinlove. What a hero.

P.S. I was getting increasingly inebriated as I wrote this and I haven’t read it over so sorry for any errors. I will probably edit tomorrow!

“What do you mean you’ve never had a sleepover?” Leo exclaimed, tea sloshing over the side of his mug with the force that he set it down on the table. “Not even with your cousins?”

“Not even with our cousins,” Regulus shrugged. “Maybe when I was really small? Mother and Father weren’t keen on letting us out of their sight much.” 

“Yeah, that's fucked up,” Leo said resolutely. Sometimes he forgot how lucky he was to have his parents, and conversations with Regulus often made him want to call and tell them how much he loved them. 

“I’m starting to recognise that now,” Regulus hummed quietly, giving Leo a shy look. “Guess I should be grateful to Uncle Alphard for the trust fund. At least I’ll be able to pay for the lifetime of therapy I’m going to require.”

“You and Sirius should milk the media by doing increasingly ridiculous interviews for exorbitant fees,” Leo laughed, looking around the kitchen. “Do you have any cookies in this house?”

“Merde, your stomach is bottomless. We just had lunch!” Regulus rolled his eyes, but waved in the direction of one of the cupboards. 

“I’m a growing boy,” Leo defended, pushing his chair back to source the cookies. “Besides, I’m going to need the energy if we’re going to plan your ‘Regulus had a sucky childhood and this must be rectified list’,” he said, his words muffled due to the fact his head was half-way into the cupboard as he rummaged around for a worthy snack. Moments later, Leo emerged with a triumphant smile and his fingers clasped around a packet of Nutter Butter cookies.

“First of all, what the fuck?” Regulus scoffed, taking a long sip of his coffee. “Secondly, really?” he raised an eyebrow. 

“Admittedly, the name is a work in progress,” Leo sat back down, schooling his features into something he hoped looked indignant. “And, I have a brand to maintain,” he continued, biting into the cookie with an overly loud crunch. 

And that was how Leo and Regulus ended up spending an entire afternoon curating the perfect list of things Regulus wanted to experience before he decided his next step in life. 

1) Have a sleepover! Build a fort, play video games, eat all the snacks, stay up all night and have a pillow fight! 

“Babe, sleepovers are supposed to be fun, not meticulously planned military operations,” Finn teased, peering over Leo’s shoulder to look at the schedule on the laptop screen. 

“There is a lot of enjoyment to be found in structure!” Leo argued, tilting his head back to pout at Finn. “I don’t want to forget anything. I just want Reg to have a good time,” he sighed.

“Sweetheart it’s gonna be fine,” Finn reassured, pecking a kiss on Leo’s lips. “You’ve got pizza, you’ve got Mario Kart, you’ve got -” Finn leaned forward to squint at the screen, “building a blanket fort. Hey, I wanna come to this sleepover! You’re gonna have a great time.” 

Leo smiled up at Finn, his boyfriend had a seemingly infinite ability to make him feel better. 

***

 “Bye! Have fun!” Finn yelled.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Logan added, and then the door slammed. 

Leo reached out to grab his cell off the coffee table before wriggling excitedly in his seat, “Okay! Let the sleepover begin. What pizza do you want?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but his reply betrayed his enthusiasm, “I’ll have an extra large half and half please. One side with ham and pineapple and the other with pepperoni, green peppers, grilled onions, black olives, mushrooms, sausage and extra mozzarella. Oh, and a side of wedges, please.”

Leo spluttered, “Reg!”

“Hey, don’t judge. Your order will be just as big,” Regulus frowned.

“Please,” Leo scoffed. “I live with Finn and Logan. You could order five pizzas and I wouldn’t be phased. No, I am scandalised by your topping choices. Pineapple!” Leo gesticulated his arms widely, “I thought you were better than that. I am seriously re-considering this friendship.” 

“Wow, you really are picking up on Finn’s dramatics,” Regulus laughed.

Leo huffed as he tapped at his phone, “Pineapple on pizza is a very serious matter, thank you very much. Since this is your sleepover, I have ordered the abomination. Consider this a one time pass.” 

“I am honoured.” Regulus drawled, playing up the posh notes of his accents. 

“So you should be,” Leo said, grabbing the cushion from behind him and throwing it at Regulus. 

“Oh, that’s how you want to play it.” Regulus smirked, grasping the cushion that had been thrown at him, as well as the one stuffed behind him. 

“Noooooo!” Leo shrieked. “Pillow fights are not on the plan until -” his words interrupted by a cushion hitting him square in the face. “- 9pm.”

“Oh dear, we can’t mess with your painstakingly designed plan.” Regulus teased, leaning forward to pick up the printed schedule that Leo had shown him earlier. “I believe we are at, 19.30 - play Mario Kart whilst waiting for pizza.”

***

“So, did you boys have fun?” Sirius asked,  as he placed a cup of coffee in front of Regulus, and then Leo. He sounded exactly like Leo’s mother and it was creeping him out. 

“Why are you here?” Regulus grumbled, resting his head against his arms. He titled it to the side and cracked one eye open. 

“Thank you for the coffee, Sirius. You’re the best big brother, Sirius,” Sirius did an uncanny imitation of Regulus’ voice. “We were in the neighbourhood and figured we’d pick you up instead of you getting a taxi back.”

Regulus made another noise that sounded somewhat like a thank you. 

“Did you guys sleep at all last night?” Remus laughed.

“A little bit,” Leo mumbled, staring into his coffee. He wanted it to magically make its way into his stomach without him having to make the effort of lifting it. 

“An hour maybe?” Regulus added. 

Logan snorted as he wandered into the kitchen, “We came in at 3am and they were fast asleep on the couch. We have photo evidence.” 

“And Leo was doing his “I’m having sweet dreams’ snore so I doubt they had only just fallen asleep,” Finn added, following behind Logan.

“I do not have a ‘I’m having sweet dreams’ snore,” Leo said, the tips of his cheeks turning pink. 

Regulus laughed, sitting up-right and swallowing a huge gulp of coffee. 

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you,” Logan began, pouring coffee beans into the espresso machine. “You were drooling.” 

2) Master that chore list! Learn to cook! It’s a bore, but you’ll thank me later.

“This is an excellent idea,” Remus said, “Perhaps now I will stop being woken up by the sound of the fire alarm.” 

“That was one time!” Regulus protested, shoving Remus in the shoulder. “Leave. I have lessons to learn.”

“Try not to burn the kitchen down!” Sirius sang, as he left the kitchen, his arms piled with snacks. 

“You cannot talk, Sirius Black,” Remus laughed. “And don’t you think that is a bit excessive. We’re going to order take-out in two hours anyway.”

***

“Regulus! Your hand,” Leo shouted when he saw the flames. 

“What?” Regulus asked, but then he looked down and saw the edge of the oven mitt he was wearing were alight. He must have had them too close to hob. Leo noticed the panic in eyes and grabbed the end of the mitt that wasn’t on fire and chucked it into the sink, turning the tap on to smother the flames. 

“Okay,” Leo said, “Maybe we should start with something easier. Let’s try the washing machine.”

Regulus whined, “The washing machine scares me.”

“How does the washing machine scare you?” Leo asked, trying his best to hold in the laugh. 

“It’s scary!” Regulus reiterated. “You put stuff in there and they come out tiny or pink or covered in tissue.”

Leo blinked multiple times, registering the words and then he couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer. “Well, those things should only happen if you do it wrong. Pro tip, number one, don’t put tissues in the washing machine,” he said once he had recovered. “Come on, I’ll show you. It’s really not that scary and I’ll teach you how to sort things properly but really I chuck stuff in together all the time and nothing ever turns pink.” 

***

“Regulus. Leo,” Remus called, leaning in the doorway to the lounge. Leo paused the movie they were watching before turning to look at him. “Is there a reason that all our bedding is pink?”

Leo and Regulus shared a sheepish look. 

“No idea, sorry,” Leo said.

“It was Leo’s fault! He said nothing ever turned pink,” Regulus blurted out, shoving his hand over his mouth as soon as the words left it. 

“Never take up a career in espionage,” Leo scoffed, throwing the skittle he conveniently had in his hand at Regulus. 

“And I suppose you had something to do with the glove in the kitchen sink?” Remus chuckled. 

“Oh fuck, I forgot about that,” Leo said, giving Remus his most charming smile. “I’ll buy a new pair.”

3) Go to your first concert, it’ll be a night to remember

Leo had managed to drag half the team into his mission to get tickets to see Fall Out Boy in a couple of months time. It was a band both he and Regulus loved, and Leo had always wanted to see them when he was younger but it never seemed to work out.  

Between them they had twelve laptops that they were constantly refreshing, waiting for the box office to open. 

“Yes! I’m in,” Thomas shouted, wiggling around in  a celebratory dance. “Waiting time is 27 minutes.” A few seconds later, James was chanting about his access. 

“No suh! My wait time is 35 minutes. How is that possible, I was only a few seconds behind Talker,” James griped. 

“It’s a cruel cruel game,” Ollie nodded solemnly. 

In the end, they did manage to get tickets for everybody that wanted them, even if Leo had lost the will to live by the time he had kicked everybody out of their apartment. 

***

Leo noticed that Regulus was sticking pretty close to him as they walked through the halls of the arena, a sign that he was nervous. “Hey, you doing okay?” Leo asked, bumping his shoulder against Regulus’.

“Yeah,” Regulus breathed. “It’s just...a lot,”  he gestured to the crowds of people around him. They had tried to get there early to ease Regulus into things, but between Talker and Noelle running later, and Finn having an absolute meltdown because he couldn’t find his old tour t-shirt, it was already starting to get quite busy. 

“We can always go if it gets too much,” Leo reassured, smiling softly at Regulus. 

“You just paid all that money for the tickets, we can’t just leave,” Regulus argued. 

Leo slung his arm around Regulus, hugging him close. “Your comfort is worth far more than the price of a concert ticket, Reggie.”

“Don’t call me that,” Regulus moaned, but Leo felt him sink into the hug. Their tranquil moment was ruined by Finn who decided it was the perfect moment to burst into a rendition of Dance, Dance, and James immediately joined in. 

***

“I’m sad,” Regulus sighed, wearing one of the t-shirts he had brought at the concert. He’d been deliberating over a few when Leo had told the cashier that they’d take one of all of them. Thankfully, Regulus had learnt that to argue with Leo when he was trying to show love was futile. “Why am I sad? I just had the best night.”

“Post concert blues,” Leo commiserated, sliding a plate of pancakes across the table to Regulus. 

Logan hummed his agreement, drowning his pancakes in maple syrup, “You’ve got to spend the whole day watching the videos you took. Try and get some of the endorphins back. But really, the only thing that cures it, is booking a new concert. You’re gonna be hooked forever.” 

“Is it also normal to still be able to hear the music?” Regulus said, rubbing at his left ear, before cutting into his pancake. 

“Sure, the music is loud,” Finn answered with a chortle.“ You two blasting music until 2am in the morning probably didn’t help. It’s a good job this apartment is soundproof.” 

“Sorry,” Regulus said, looking guilty, “Did we keep you up?” Leo didn’t even remember falling asleep. The last thing he could recall was dancing around his bedroom screaming along to My songs know what you did in the dark, and then was waking up sprawled across Regulus.

“Don’t worry about,” Finn mumbled around a mouthful of food. “It was nice to see you letting go like that.”

“It would be nice if you could learn some table manners,” Logan chirped.

[kbirbpods]

Dear Podficcer,

I thought I'd start with my personal "do not wants" to get them out of the way. I don't want: non-con, dubious consent, infedelity, suicide, adult/minor au, pregnancy, split personality as a trope, or slave-fic (though I do understand that the clones would be considered slaves, so fics that tackle that are okay).

I'm okay with but do not prefer: explicit content in general (mature is fine, I'm just pretty picky with explicit stuff because I'm ace), unhappy endings, A/B/O, cannibalism, or permanent character death. Also I have a weird trigger with cockroaches.

AUs I love: I'm a sucker for a good bookshop/coffee shop/flower shop AU, werewolf AU, fandom crossover (especially the "put them in the story to replace the characters"), no Order-66/Order-66 happens differently, adoption fics, time travel/time travel fix-its (and fix-its in general), modern au, and ESPECIALLY a good soulmate au

Tropes I love: friends-to-lovers, enemies/rivals/exes-to-lovers, fake dating, angst with a happy ending, especially FOUND FAMILY, and secret identities (oops same bed is so fun).

Fandoms, Characters, and Ships: These are not in any order, I have ADHD so it's what popped into my brain. Feel free to check out my AO3 for what I've written/podficced!

Star Wars: Finn/Poe Dameron, Finn/Rey/Poe, Obi-Wan/Cody, Obi-Wan/Satine, PLATONIC Obi-Wan/Anakin, Ahsoka Tano in general, Leia in general, Clone OCs (okay with clone ships, too!!), and pretty much any AU where Hevy lives (I just got really attached to him). Rey as a Kenobi. Exploring Fox/Quin recently so if you find good content, please do! Anything Rogue One focused!

Teen Wolf: Scott Mccall/Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, any AU where Allison lives, Scott/Allison/Isaac

The Locked Tomb: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark, basically any fic in this fandom will make me happy (avoiding triggers of course)

First Kill: Calliope Burns/Juliette Fairmont, fics focusing on Theo

Our Flag Means Death: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet, Jim/Oluande, anything Lucius focused, anything focused on Jim

Marvel: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, anything focused on Kate Bishop (especially femslash)

DC: anything Batfam but especially Jason Todd. I do look at them as a family so I prefer fics that pair them outside of the family. Harley Quinn/Pamela Isley | Poison Ivy. I love Young Justice and Wally West/Artemis!

The Sandman: Dream/Hob Gadling, fics about Dream and Death's sibling relationship

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Spike/Buffy, Willow/Tara

Stranger Things: anything with Robin Buckley (especially exploring her friendship with Steve), Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson.

The Tarot Sequence: Rune Saint John/Addam Saint Nicholas, Rune/Brand/Addam, fics focusing on the friendships between the kids

The Adventure Zone: Taako/Kravitz, Lup/Barry

Venom: Venom/Eddie (this is like the ONE ship that I would 100% be cool with explicit content in, no need to question it)

All for the Game: Jeremy Knox/Jean Moreau, Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker, Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten, Kevin Day being happy in general - note: talking about Andrew's self-harm or past experiences with consent are a-okay here. Same with Jean!

X-Files: Scully/Mulder

Avatar the Last Airbender: Zuko/Sokka

Percy Jackson: Nico/Will, Percy/Annabeth, any of the femslash really

I'm a huge Regency era fan and love anything Jane Austen as well!

Feel free to check out my main fandom blog @themisfitthrone for any specifics.

Some authors I adore with blanket permissions in case you need a starting point: Flowerparrish, isabrella, saiditallbefore, trixree, wanderingjedihistorian, WitchyBee, HSavinien, bzedan, mestiket

I also have BPs as a note!

Offers: Any of the fandoms above! I'll gladly podfic any pairs from them, with the exception of the ships I listed as "do not wants." I again shy away from explicit content but if paired with someone who loves it, I'll do mu best.

[thinktosee]

IRISH HERITAGE MONTH

The Irish Tricolours. Image courtesy Quora

1. INTRODUCTON

March is IRISH HERITAGE MONTH. It is in recognition of People of Irish descent everywhere in this world. As far as David Singh was concerned, any recognition of a People and their Rights deserves our unconditional support. We join the Irish People in this celebration of their Heritage, Culture and Spirit. Your heritage is ours too.

The Irish are an accomplished and indomitable people. They are spread all across the world. Wherever they go, that Strength in Spirit guides them.

Some notable folks of Irish-descent include :

Henry Ford – Founder, Ford Motor (1863-1947)

John F. Kennedy – 35th U.S. President (1917-1963)

Nicole Kidman – Award-winning Actress (1967 - )

Oscar Wilde – Writer (1854-1900)

George Bernard Shaw – Writer, Nobel Prize winner for Literature in 1925 (1856-1950)

St. Brigid of Kildare – Nun, Abbess and Founder of Ireland’s 1st convent (451-525)

U.S. President John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Image courtesy Irish Central

2. CHILDHOOD IRISH FRIENDS

When I was 9 years, an Irish family moved into our neighbourhood. They had 2 children – Tommy, 10 and Michael 8 years old. Their father was with the British Army, which then had a base in singapore. Their mum (who had a very deep Irish accent which I had difficulty understanding her spoken words), worked tirelesly on the home front.

Tommy and Michael became my dear friends. They were a tight-knit family. Dad was one of the fun-nest persons I knew. He’d play practical jokes on the kids. He was also very direct, as direct as they come, which I found very refreshing.

They would invite me to their home now and then for dinner. It was something I always craved since we were sure to be entertained by dad, while mum laid out a sumptuous feast on the dinner table. For a 9-year old then, my world view about the Irish was slowly taking shape – I realized then they were really compassionate and generous. And very intelligent. Tommy was the leader in our play group. He had good leadership skills. He led by example. He never favoured his brother over me except when an argument broke out between us, which it did one day. Like the loyal brother he was, Tommy supported Michael in the fight. After it was all over, and in the evening when their dad came home, he calmly walked over to my house. I was expecting him. He asked me why I had hit Michael. I replied that his son hit me first. I was shaking in my short pants then. Their dad was over 6 feet tall. And then he said to me, “That’s fair enough.” He turned around and walked back to his house.

Image courtesy Depositphotos

The next day, we were back to being friends again. That’s how wonderful being a child was – no harbouring of ill-will. Every transgression is forgiven. Love and friendship mean everything in our little world.

My friends returned to Ireland when I was 11. I missed them dearly for a while. I thought then that when I grew up, I’d visit Ireland to look them up. I still haven’t made that trip and I doubt I’d find them since I never knew their last names! Whatever the case may be, this special family made my life so much more meaningful.

A fantastic book which is part of our family’s collection

3. DAVID’S FRIENDS AND TEACHERS IN HIGH SCHOOL

A few of David’s teachers and friends in school were of Irish descent. Because it was an international school, David’s world view, like mine before, changed…for the better. It was through this interaction that David thrived. He embraced a global perspective to learning. He was very passionate about English Literature (a good part of which is actually of Irish and Scottish origin).

What did these teachers and friends teach David? To maintain an open mind. It is as simple as that. Through an open mind, nothing is impossible. David discovered this new world of limitless knowledge. He set out to learn as much as he possibly could. It was a world of egalitarian rather than elitist methods of teaching and learning. A world of engaging in endless discussions. David decided he was not going to be put down ever again like he was in the singaporean elitist public education system he attended in primary school.

David, Grade 7 front row 3rd from left. His first year in SJI International. Many of his classmates here are scattered today in universities all over the world. It is interesting to note the colours of the school dress are Green and White.  Image courtesy SJI International.

4. CONCLUSION 

The Irish People have been bullied, abused and put down throughout the ages by elitist and imperial powers. And by racism and discrimination. Each time, they persevered and triumphed. As we celebrate this Irish Heritage Month, I close with a poem by W.B. Yeats, whom David admired, for good reason. Please pay very close attention to this great poem.

Yeats, an Irishman, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1923 :

THE STOLEN CHILD

Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that dropp their tears Over the young streams. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939). Image courtesy Shenandoah Literary

In the Spirit of David Cornelius Singh

David’s father

Email : davidnfather@gmail.com

Mar 07, 2018