#hob gadling family values

[moorishflower]

That long lost!Addams ficlet is a delight. You KNOW Gomez would be so absurdly proud if his new great x100 uncle then managed to bag an actual eldritch terror as a partner. Wouldn't even miss a beat.

"Hob Gadling," Dream says, and Hob makes a frankly embarrassing sound -- not a shriek, nothing like that, but maybe a startled yelp -- and jerks off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Dust from beneath the bed settles immediately in his hair, and the floorboards creak alarmingly under his weight, but, after a tense and breathless moment, nothing happens. Hob exhales, and finds himself looking up between Dream's long and slender legs. He's wearing skinny jeans, Hob notes, and he can't resist the urge to grab hold of both of Dream's calves, just above the ankle, and Christ, but he's so skinny Hob can nearly get his fingers to touch.

Dream only raises an eyebrow at him. "Why do you keep the company of witches?" he asks, and Hob strokes up the length of his legs, as high as he can reach, humming softly. His heart is still hammering with excess adrenaline, and he's got to channel it somewhere. Lust for his lover (partner? boyfriend? they haven't really discussed --) is as good a cause as any.

"Hello," he says, attempting to maintain some manner of social nicety. "Good to see you, darling, how's your day been, mine's been fine --"

"Hob."

"-- I only learned that I've apparently got relatives, still," he finishes, and Dream's other eyebrow joins the first. Hob uses Dream's ankles to hoist himself further from the edge of the bed, and then picks himself up gingerly, brushing dust from his hair, his shoulders. It falls down from him in a grey cloud, and he's not able to suppress a sneeze before he says, "Loads of them. From my mam's side of the family. Apparently she had a sister."

"And you decided to visit."

"There were extenuating circumstances," Hob says, thinking of the diary, the bidding war, Gomez's unflappable enthusiasm for the esoteric. "But yes. What's this about witches?"

"Many of your relatives are. Though this explains, somewhat. How swiftly and easily you took to immortality."

Witches are real? sits on the tip of his tongue, and Hob only narrowly swallows it back. "Am I a witch?" he asks, half-fearing the answer. It'd make his drowning in the 1600s a lot less poignant, maybe. If he's been a witch this whole bloody time, if 'witch' is a thing that's somehow separate and distinct from human...

"No," Dream says, and all the tension leaves Hob's shoulders at once. He sits back down on the bed with a shuddering sigh. It's a nice bed, a four-poster with a canopy, and Gomez and Morticia had reassured him that this room did not contain anything that lived under the mattress. The sheets are heavy velvet, in deference to the cold Chicago winter, and yesterday morning he'd woken up to the sight of Wednesday Addams standing over his bed with a morningstar in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She had been contemplating the best way to wake him: by cutting his hair (he'd needed to explain to her that it would take time to grow back), or by caving his chest in (requiring a totally different, but no less important, conversation of its own).

"Good," he says, and Dream makes a low, thrumming noise, and straddles Hob's lap.

"You did not tell me where you were going," he murmurs, and strokes his thumbs down Hob's cheeks, catches his nail on Hob's bottom lip and pulls it down slightly to expose his teeth. "I felt you, still. In the Dreaming. But The New Inn was bereft of you."

"I didn't realize I was coming here until the second I did it," Hob admits, and Dream seems to take this in stride. "Besides. I've got no way to contact you. I sort of hoped you'd just...feel where I was."

"I did. I do. And yet. To hear it from your lips would also be...pleasing."

"You're allowed to say you're miffed, love," Hob says, and lays his hands in the cup of Dream's hips. Thin and bony and his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going. Maybe we can figure out some way we can talk not through the Dreaming, in future. Dunno if you get cell service there."

He means it as a joke, but Dream tilts his head to the side, considering. His thumb sweeps up from Hob's lip, touches just below his eye, the firm bone of the orbit.

"I will consider it," he says, and then bends down and gently covers Hob's mouth with his own. His lips are soft, and Dream always runs closer to lukewarm than he does body temperature, but now Hob gasps because Dream's mouth, when it opens against him, is chilled. Sweet and cool as wintermint, and his tongue licking at Hob's lips is like a round of ice that thaws and melts and slowly slips inside, until Hob can drink him the way he would snowmelt, held in the cupped chalice of his tongue --

"Dios mío," comes a familiar voice at the door, and Hob frantically pulls his hands from where they had been inching over Dream's arse, and then just as frantically tries to rearrange himself so that his erection isn't immediately visible. He's not sure how he manages this last, since he feels hard enough that it could be seen from space, but if that's the cross he must bear, then so be it.

Dream, as always, is utterly unflappable, and turns to the bedroom door looking every inch a king; he's wild-haired, Hob realizes, and the skinny jeans aren't so much gone as they are flickering, like a projector caught between two slides, flipping back and forth between Dream's usual peacoat and jeans, and what Hob's become used to seeing him wear in the Dreaming, what he thinks of as Dream's robe of office, flowing like ink, black as the starless sky.

Gomez, standing in the doorway, looks between Dream and Hob, and then a wide and cheery grin nearly splits his face in half.

"Mi querido niño! You did not tell me you had a paramour! And who is this enchanting creature? Gomez Addams, my friend, at your service!"

Dream blinks slowly, and Gomez, to his credit, does not come forward with a proffered hand or, thank God, a hug. Only beams at Dream from the doorway, until Hob's increasingly eldritch lover breaks the silence at last.

"I am called Morpheus," he says, "Lord of Dreams and King of Nightmares. Shaper of Form and Prince of Stories." He inclines his head slightly, and Gomez looks as though he might faint with delight. "And lover of Hob Gadling."

"You did not tell me you were royalty," Gomez says. He strides into the bedroom, and thankfully it's Hob he's bound for, Hob's hand that he grabs. "Royalty! Why, the Addams haven't hosted a king since good old Henry!"

"Which Henry?" Hob gets out, as he's forcibly removed from the bed and dragged, almost bodily, towards the door. Gomez is strong. He keeps forgetting.

"It doesn't matter! They're all quite dead. But yours isn't! Come, my liege! Allow me to escort you and your Prince Consort on a promenade of the grounds! Have you ever been to America before, sir?"

"I am a representation of all sleeping minds, and of the dreaming subconscious of all living things," Dream says, sweeping behind them, stately and imposing. "So. Yes."

"Oh, splendid! That means I don't have to explain baseball."

"What is happening," Hob whispers, as he's manhandled out into the hall. His mind is caught somewhere on prince consort and doesn't quite want to let go of it, but he feels like that's a conversation he ought to have with Dream in private.

And Dream looks at him, smirking faintly, his starlit eyes flicking from Hob's mussed hair to his kiss-pinked lips, and down to the way that Gomez so effortlessly steers him by the shoulder out into the manor proper.

"Family," Dream says, and reaches out, and laces his fingers with Hob's.

[lokilokilolki]

Hob/Morpheus Fic Rec

With smut warnings (on a scale of low-high, none, or chapter warnings)

Contents:

Mixed

Hob Saves Dream

Jelouse/Possesive Morpheus

Hob and Endless family

Hob/Morphues + Aziriphale/Crowley Crossover Fics

Alternate Universe

One-Shots

Hob Whump

Take Me in Your Loving Ropes  23k 

Aetheltrythh 

Smut: Yes-High 

Hob invites Morpheus to attend his shibari performance, to show him what it is about. Morpheus finds it a little too much to his liking :D. 

: This one was so amazing, a nice slow burn with a sprinkle of jealous Dream and soft Hob 

If you would have me  19k  

HanaSheralHaminail 

Smut: None (Making out fanart at the end) 

“Hanging from a chain around my familiar’s neck is the key to my chambers.” 

In his cat form, Dream stretched out his body and yawned languidly. The key shimmered into existence, pulled from the dream of a young writer who fashioned stories of fae queens and mortal sailors, of treasure chests and friendship forged through hardship. 

“The person who first takes the key from him shall become my spouse.” 

: I LOVE this one, based on that one popular prompt post, and a good slow-burn with soft!dream. 

Hob saves Dream  

For Want of Caution 20k 

Mayanpaw 

Smut: None 

Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too… intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily like his friend. 

This one is just pure feels with some Hob whump and besotted Dream thrown in. 

little by little, and in great leaps  21k  

she_who_loves_dreamling (all_fandoms_reader) 

In one world, Jessamy and Death depart for the Sunless lands, and it will be long years before Dream is free. 

This is not that world. 

 : Hob saves Dream and they both pine after each other like idiots I love them 

~ 

Hob is eating breakfast on Tuesday, August 10th, in the year of our Lord 1926, when Death comes knocking. 

Sing Me To Sleep  3k  

BisforBread 

Smut: Light 

Dream’s hands were cold as they cupped Hob’s face, desperate to hold on to this reality. 

“I’m here, I’m real,” Hob said, wrapping the coat around Morpheus’ shoulders, drawing it around his thin frame. 

: Jessamy goating out and getting Hob 

(THIS IS A SEQUEL FIC AND CAN BE READ ALONE BUT THE FIRST ONE IS REALLY GOOD TOO) 

Body and Soul, Always and Forever  50k  

SigniorBenedickofPadua 

Smut: None 

In 1916, Hob is summoned by Roderick Burgess. One hundred and six years later, he is rescued by Dream. Soon after that, he finds himself in love and engaged to the King of Dreams and Nightmares, and now it's just happy days for the rest of their Endless existence, right? 

Well, it turns out that when you get engaged to a king, it comes with baggage, such as being given titles, being knighted, and entertaining delegations from Faerie. And when the king is captured by a mysterious Order, suddenly you're standing there as Lord Protector of the Dreaming, having to balance saving a magical realm with saving your fiancé. Easy peasy. 

: BAMF regent Hob saving Dream, Desire being just a silly little brother, and very unorganized cults. 

Jealous/Possessive Morpheus  

What in wanting is freely given and in madness is taken away  7k 

Imnotcryingipromise 

Smut: None 

: I love this one! Hob saving Calliope, and Dream getting insanely jealous and possessive 

warning sign 8k 

Issylra 

Smut: None 

“He does not wish your friendship, Hob Gadling. He wishes to bed you." 

: Dream is emotionally constipated and gets jealous and possessive over Hob 

Turning Blue  3k 

LaurytheLatrator 

Smut: None 

It had not occurred to Dream that Hob would not be at the first place he looked. It’s this feeling of a strange, thwarted serendipity that sets Dream on edge. 

: This one is just pure angst all the way through; Protective Dream and Hob whump 

Jealousy Does Not Become Him  3k  

Aria_Lerendeair 

Smut: Light 

Dream was not jealous. 

Dream did not get jealous. 

Yet he watched Hob Gadling laugh, his face lit up, the joy obvious in his heart, and felt the desperate, clawing creature within him snarl its fury. 

But he wasn't jealous. He couldn't be. 

: Dream not being sad and jealoue and Hob storming the realm cause he’s being an idiot. 

Trying to Recognize Myself (When I Feel I've Been Replaced)  13k  

Purplesauris 

Smut:  High (second chapter) 

"You'll regret saying no," they say suddenly, snapping Hob back onto the mortal plane, their glamor falling back into place as they scowl. "You could have helped me— and you refused." 

"Hospitality doesn't beget I give up pieces of my body," Hob replies. "And you've officially worn out your welcome." 

: A wondering supernatural entity pulls a lover body swap on Hob not knowing his husband is a possessive eldritch horror. 

“Defiling the Sublime: emerging technologies and their methodological implications”, by Hob Gadling, PhD  2k  

notallsandmen (notallmaenads) 

Smut: Yes-High 

Dream surprises Hob during a Zoom conference and blows him under his desk. Exactly what it says on the tin. 

: Dream being a brat and Hob trying to hang onto the last thread of sanity 

Watching You Dance  347 words 

Aquilathefighter 

Smut: Suggestive Content 

Hob has a side job as a stripper. He invites Dream to come watch him, knowing that his boyfriend's possessive streak will be activated when he's surrounded by the lustful daydreams of the patrons. 

: Dream can sense daydreams, which is unfortunate when all anybody is thinking about is your boyfriend currently on a pole.

 

Hob & Endless Family 

Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes  5k 

Imaginationisrainbowcoloured 

Smut: None 

Wanings: Drug Use 

Hob has always been the kind of person to try anything once. Unfortunately, that applies to literal anything and that is exactly the reason he finds himself in this situation. 

: Hobb and Deliriums interactions throughout the years + Protective Dream 

Misery Loves Company  5k 

icarus_chained 

Smut: None 

Warning: Depression 

Over the course of his life, Hob has been more than well acquainted with despair. Comes with the territory, a bit. Not even immortals have infinite strength. It took some centuries, though, before he became acquainted with Despair. In the flesh, as it were. Is it strange to find a degree of comfort in the personification of abject misery? Probably. But there've been times when she's been there, and that made all the difference. 

: Hobb's interactions with Despair over the years + Protective Dream 

Endless Family Values  1k 

TheCosmicMushroom 

Smut: None 

“Now, now,” Hob intercedes with a grin that’s only slightly forced. “Can we save the in-fighting for the actual dinner part of this family dinner?” 

: Hob finally meets the family. 

A Study in Impressing the In-Laws  2k 

Purplesauris 

Smut: None 

The next time that Hob meets one of Dream's siblings, he almost expects it. 

A Touch of Bitterness  2k 

Darci 

Smut: Light-Suggestive 

Warning: Homophobia 

Hob has not been led to have high expectations regarding Morpheus' family. Somehow, they're worse than he expected. Poor Morpheus never stood a chance of being normal. 

: Hob meets the fam and there weird as shit, but it’s his weird of shit now 

Fuckboi Hob vs The Endless Family Dinner  41k 

Dancinbutterfly 

Smut: Yes (Chapters 5 and 6 only) 

It was supposed to be a joke listing. Bring a line cook parolee covered in body art in active recovery as your plus one to a family dys-function as revenge, haha, very funny. Only the posh stranger who reaches out to take Hob up on the ludicrous offer turns out to be wound so tight over his upcoming New Year's Eve dinner that Hob decides to make himself everyone's fucking problem. Dream's family won't know what hit them. 

: Hob is a boyfriend for hire and then immediately falls in love. Love this fic, nails the family dynamic and has a lot of wholesome moments between everyone. 

Family Jewels 10k 

MissAlrauna 

Smut: Light 

The Endless family is made up of seven siblings, no parents, just children. It's difficult between them, sometimes hostile, sometimes loving, but never boring / One Shot Collection, very Delirium and Dream centric 

: These are all one-shots and can be read independently, they focus on the the endless as humans and their family dynamics (centered more heavily on Dream and Delirium) Very well characterized and heart-warming. 

The worst family gathering in history  4k 

Ihatepants 

Smut: Light-Implied 

Basically, Dream is forced to spend time with his siblings every now and then. Just them in a room, with a lot of alcohol. 

How long does it take until they find out he’s been shagging? 

: A lot of endless family dinner crack  

Life Couldn't Get Much Sweeter  17k  

DrAdrianMilk 

Smut: Yes (Chapters 4 and 5 centric) 

Dream and Hob finally have their wedding ten months after getting married (eleven months after meeting). Hob is determined to make the day perfect for Dream and if he has to fight both of Dream's parents to do it? So be it. 

: Hob and Dream get married (alt universe humans) and its Hob’s job to help with Dreams fucked up family. Fr I really love this fic especially how they integrated destruction into it.  

Whatever You Desire  9k 

MintyEcco 

Smut: None 

Messing with their older brother Dream is a perfectly entertaining past time for Desire, though after the incident with Unity Kincaid and Rose Walker they're looking for something a little more low-key. And then they stumble upon Hob Gadling. 

: Desire is a coniving little shit and Dream is possessive

 

Sandman & Good Omens Crossover Fics 

Heaven is a good book, or several hundred good books... 5k 

Summertime_Queen 

Smut: None 

Hob stumbles across a strange little bookshop wandering down the streets of Soho which seems to be as long-lived as he... 

: Hob and his interesting interactions with the strange man who never ages in a bookshop in Soho. With some Dream fluff of course.  

dreaming of a miracle 2k 

Lifelights 

Smut: None 

Aziraphale has never been summoned before. He feels a bit honored. More put out, though. He’d been in the middle of organizing the shop, and he’d been planning to get dinner at a new little place by the Thames. Maybe if he hurries, he can still make his reservation. 

“Um, hello,” he says, following the words with a little wave. “May I help you?” 

: Rodrick Burgess accidentally summons Aziraphale after Dream and must face a not-so-happy demon. 

A Tavern Tale  19k 

for_storys_sake 

Smut: None 

Dream is not the only encounter Hob has in a tavern (or around one). 

: Hob meets Agnus Nutter in the 1600’s and gives him three prophecies, some of which may include a certain angel, demon, duck, raven, and anthropomorphic personification of dreams.  

Park Morning Meeting  1k  

obaewankenope (rexthranduil) 

Smut: None 

“Anthony J Crowley,” Dream of the Endless intoned in that strangely deep, yet still somehow soft voice of his. The kind of voice that, written down, the dialogue would be bold and italicized for emphasis. 

“Uh, yep, that’s me!” Crowley, in a decidedly less imposing and cosmically empowered tone of voice, acknowledged the Endless in front of him. 

; Dream and Crowley have a little chat 

strange friends in strange places  11k 

multifandom_fanfic_writer 

Smut: None 

Hob makes a friend at the Classic Car Convention and stumbles upon a strange bookshop. When his Stranger asks him for help to find a certain grimoire, things get even more confusing. 

: Hob and Crowley are car besties whose husbands have a pension for misunderstandings. 

The Beating of Will Shaxberg  1k  

DianOfTheCity_County 

Smut: Implied 

Hob and Crowley are drinking buddies (insert we cry together about our unrequired *requiered* love life's) they both hate Shakespeare who has the entire intellectual attention of their beloveds. Wouldn't it be great to punch the bastard? Wait! Destiny is a cunning bitch. ENTER SHAKESPEARE. 

: Exactly what it sounds like just a lot of crack 

Alternate Universe 

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?  2k 

SadRumiHours 

Smut: Yes-High 

Lord Morpheus Burgess, tired of his cheating husband and his lonely existence, seeks out comfort in the form of a famous actor; Robert Gadling. 

: Dream is Princess Diana basically, short but sweet. I would totally recommend you read the second part of this two-part series first. 

It's Only Forever, Not Long At All  25k  

BeholdingTheGaytimes 

Smut: Yes-High 

Hob should know by now not to go along with Death’s schemes, but here he is at a masquerade ball for her baby brother. He’s never met him, but Death's told Hob that he was indeed that pale lord that left the White Horse in a stink just before Death sauntered up and gave Hob immortality. 

Surrounded by impossible creatures and otherworldly beings, one specific person catches his attention: an inhumanly beautiful dark-haired man in a raven mask. Hob loses track of him and the night spirals out in mayhem as Hob gets himself into trouble. Fey trouble to be exact. 

: Vampire!Dream meets his sister's immortal friend Hob Gadling who accidently got themselves in an ownership battle with the fae.  

One-Shots  

'cause every Dreamlord's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man  4k  

hardly_an_escape 

Smut: Suggestive-Light 

Hob and Dream attend a university fundraising gala 

: Dream is probed into attending Professor Hob’s fundraising gala 

Impractical Design  1k  

Anonymous 

Smut: None 

Hob reread the instructions carefully, read them again, and then checked that he had all the right parts for what felt like the thousandth time. He ignored the steadily rising tide of confusion, the sheer incomprehension he felt—Hob had lived for hundreds of years and he knew how to build things—projecting what he hoped was a convincing aura of calm. 

: just the fluffiest IKEA furniture struggle fic 

Summer Rain  4k  

Aria_Lerendeair 

Smut: None 

Hob is mourning the decline of scent marking as a habit in society, and Dream steps in to remind him that not everyone has forgotten it, and is willing to forgo it. 

: Best of mutual pining and adorable Dream 

Make My Lullaby a Fairytale  4k  

Purplesauris 

Smut: None 

Hob has a penchant for helping others, and when that means taking care of a baby, he isn't quite ready for the way his eldtritch partner reacts. (Much better than he expected) 

: Dream + Hob + Tiny baby, the fluffiest of fluffs Dream is so soft and parental here 

The Things Dreams and Lies Share in Common  4k  

crowgee 

Smut: Yes-Mild 

Recently heart broken, Dream finds his little sister, Delirium, at his door step wishing for him to come with her to find their brother. She even wrote a list - a list of people they must meet people who can help. On that list the name 'Hob Gadling' catches on the glints of stars that flicker and burn in Dream's eye. 

; Dream having no concept of communicating feelings properly and having to fix it  

It's Raining, It's Pouring  2k  

TheLibraryoftheForest 

Smut: None 

Dream has always loved the rain, just as much, if not more than the sunlight. He knows it's not a shared opinion amongst everyone, but when it starts affecting his creations, what Dream loves starts to become the problem rather than the solution. Enter: Hob Gadling. 

; Hob being a literal ray of sunshine 

Which Betokeneth Concorde 1k   

Dira Sudis (dsudis) 

Smut: None-Suggestive 

Dream had been dimly aware that one of the many things he would have to face, as the price of courting Hob Gadling, was his own refusal to dance. 

: Dream doesn’t dance but he likes to watch his idiot dance 

Minute Affections  2k  

Wwhand 

Smut: None 

The simple joy of having a person you're fond of, who is also a cat. 

: Adorable fluffy Cat!Dream and Hob 

If we have each other, then we'll both be fine  3k   

Altair2714 

Smut: Suggestive Content 

Hob relocates to the Appalachian Mountains and Dream meets him at a bar there. The two philosophize about change, death, the unknown, and companionship. They come to an understanding. 

: Hob and Dream philosophize about the world and there growing relationship 

The reason we have hands (holding) 

Karalyn 

Smut: None 

Morpheus watches Hob casually touch the other humans in his life. He thinks that, just maybe, his friend will extend that same gesture to him. 

: Technically a two-shot but one-shot is more of an atmosphere than anything, very fluffy very cute features Dream having very serious conversations with kittens + Jealous Dream 

sometime of the night  2k  

scienceblues 

Smut:  None 

He doesn’t realize that this is one of those times where Dream has decided they’ll be spending time together, no matter what Hob might have to say to the contrary, until a large black cat leaps onto his desk. 

: Dream being a bitchy cat and Hob loving it (sort of) 

Tropetember 2022 - Dreamling Edition  30 one shots 

Geekygirl24 

Smut: None 

A series of Dream/Hob Gadling one shots, all focusing on the daily prompts of Tropetember 2022 

: Just a bunch of minds soothing Dreamling domestic one-shots for the soul 

In Sickness and In Health  7k 

littledreamling (k_crow) 

Smut: None 

“Will you help me?” 

“Of course,” Dream replied easily. Hob made a vague noise, deep in his throat, and let his forehead fall forward to bonk gently against Dream’s shoulder as if the mere whisper of effort was overwhelming. Dream had to admit, he had never succumbed to human illness—maybe it truly was overwhelming. The sight of his love, trembling and miserable, made his entire chest ache and he gave in to the impulse to press a gentle kiss into Hob’s hair. 

: The king of dreams and nightmares trying to make soup for his sick boyfriend 

A Different Kind of Hold  4k  

FluidMimikyu 

Smut: Mild-Implied  

"Though Hob Gadling was only human, he caught the attention of most everyone everywhere he went." 

A one-shot not only based other fanfics on here and posts elsewhere stating Dream is possessive of those he loves, but also on the Wiki stating, "Despite his cold exterior, Dream is often passionate and infatuated with his lovers." 

: Dream collars Hob, very cute and domestic 

Hob Whump 

A sweet dream  1k  

Starsniper 

Smut: None 

Hob is captured instead of Dream. But when Dream finally finds him, he may be too late. 

: One of those Fics that make your heart physically clench a little 

My Stranger, My Dream  67k   

SigniorBenedickofPadua 

Smut: Yes (Chapter 24 only) 

Hob has been around death. Living in London throughout multiple plague outbreaks and fires, as well as making a living soldiering and dabbling in banditry, will do that to you. What he doesn't know is that Death has been around Hob as well. He has no idea that when his Stranger left him that night in 1389 after their first meeting, the woman who came up to him, laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Good luck, friend,” was Death incarnate. 

Hob doesn’t know that he is one of few things in this world that has been Touched by Death and lived. Had he known this, he might not have been as confused as he is when his body slams into the floor of a dim, candle-lit cellar and he finds himself surrounded by hooded figures and a gold circle on the floor. That is all he manages to perceive before everything goes blurry and consciousness slips away from him again. 

 - 

Roderick Burgess' spell does not summon Death, but someone who has been touched by Death. Hob Gadling ends up in his cellar instead of Dream. 

: This one was a GREAT fic, a total slowburn between Hob and Dream, and nice plot and relationship progression featuring traumatized Hob and Smitten Dream. The author graciously made a SEQUEL, which is every bit as fantastic as this one 

SEQUEL TO “My Stranger, My Dream”  (Categorized under “Hob saves Dream” as well) 

Body and Soul, Always and Forever  50k  

SigniorBenedickofPadua 

Smut: None 

In 1916, Hob is summoned by Roderick Burgess. One hundred and six years later, he is rescued by Dream. Soon after that, he finds himself in love and engaged to the King of Dreams and Nightmares, and now it's just happy days for the rest of their Endless existence, right? 

Well, it turns out that when you get engaged to a king, it comes with baggage, such as being given titles, being knighted, and entertaining delegations from Faerie. And when the king is captured by a mysterious Order, suddenly you're standing there as Lord Protector of the Dreaming, having to balance saving a magical realm with saving your fiancé. Easy peasy. 

: BAMF regent Hob saving Dream, Desire being just a silly little brother, and very unorganized cults. 

Limbo  (ART comic, VERY well done; check out the artist they are AMAZING) 

NathanWonderwolf 

Smut: None 

AU, in which Robert sacrifices himself for Morpheus, does not die in the usual sense, but falls into Limbo. A place where people's consciousness is in a coma. The dream wants to return its knight but does not expect to find him. 

: I adore this interpretation of how Hob might meet his demise. 

When the end of the world came, I sat there and sipped my Early Grey  1k  

for_storys_sake 

Smut: None 

He looks back down at the book he is reading. Only twenty words left. He wants to know how the story finishes and it won’t do to wait to read it before he goes to sleep, because he doesn’t plan to go to sleep again. 

His eyes glide off the last sentences and he smiles at it. A happy ending. At the bottom of the page, the last word. Fin. 

: Death puts up the chairs to the universe and brings Hob Gadling with her at last.  

Who will save you when you fall?  1k 

Daviesroyal 

Smut: None 

Dream has escaped his prison and recovered his tools. The Dreaming is recovering. All that is left for him to do is settle things with Hob Gadling, the way he should have done in 1889. 

: Pure angst and absolutely no comfort 

Prometheus, Bound.  18k  

LeotheLionathefootofOrion 

Smut: None 

In the year 1916, Roderick Burgess attempts to summon and capture Death. He misses his mark in quite a way, but he’s never been one to waste an opportunity. 

: Hob gets violently tortured, and the Corinthian is the Corinthian 

[orionsangel86]

Subtext Glorious Subtext! A Dreamling on Netflix analysis in The Sandman - Part 1

A Walk With Death

In order to make the story flow better, the show moved Men of Good Fortune forward so that it takes place directly after The Sound of Her Wings. This choice was brilliant for several reasons, and I already talked about that extensively in this post. The Sound of Her Wings comes at a point where Dream feels lost and without purpose, and his sister shows him the value in his role, and in hers, and reminds him of the beauty of humanity, and how to love it again. Then as Tom Sturridge has been quoted as saying, Dream realised that if he could feel so much for the people he met so fleetingly at the moment of their deaths, what did he feel for the man he had known for 600 years?

To help bridge the two separate issues into one episode of television, we get some new short conversations between Death and Dream that don’t occur at all in the comics, where Death asked Dream about Hob.

Death: “...And then there’s your ongoing project. How’s he bearing up after all this time?”

Dream: “Who? Hob Gadling? I don’t know I was forced to miss our last appointment.”

Death: “Well I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

They briefly speak of him again before they part when Dream says:

Dream: “I too am late for an appointment.”

Death: “Tell him I said hello.”

Whilst these exchanges seem minor, and are added to make the episode flow better, Death implies two things here that are non existent in the comics - 1. That she keeps tabs on Hob, or at least has her own assumptions about the nature of his and Dream’s relationship, given the emphasis she puts into the word “love”. 2. That she believes Dream tells Hob about his family, or at least her, and if he doesn’t, that he should.

In the comics, Dream never reveals who he is to Hob, and Hob only really figures it out during the Wake and then after when talking to Death. Hob is a character who is usually isolated from the main storyline. He doesn’t interact with anyone else other than Dream until his conversation with Death in the Wake, other than the one off story in World’s End told from Jim’s POV (Which I have written about separately here where I consider how Hob's relationship with Jim has the potential to add him to the long list of canonically queer characters in the Sandman TV show.)

In the show, Death telling Dream to tell Hob that she said hello gives some prompt that this Dream, in the show, should be revealling who he is AND telling Hob about his sister. Whether he does or not remains a mystery, but the implication is there. It puts an expectation in the minds of the audience, one that comic readers wouldn’t have. There is a prompt for audiences to imagine how Dream and Hob’s reunion should go, and that it should include him revealling himself and telling Hob about his sister. It ultimately encourages the audience to expect Hob and Dream to be closer automatically than they ever are in the comics.

Return to the White Horse

I could wax poetic about Tom Sturridge’s micro expressions as Dream, but there is already a really nice post from @mimisempai​ about his expressions in his scenes with Hob here which I love. When Dream first leaves Death in the park and sets off to find Hob we follow him as he makes the surprisingly short walk from Richmond to Greenwich (lol, its a 4 hour walk, 1 hour drive, and 2 hours by train FYI - though funnily enough the New Inn is actually right by Richmond Park so Dream would have to walk all the way back there from the White Horse Tavern. But the London that exists in The Sandman is clearly a different place entirely!) It is a connector scene between two comic issues that I think give some lovely little insights into Dream's state of mind at the time.

In the comics, Dream meets with Hob after dealing with Hector and Lyta Hall, and it is his desire to meet with Hob that leads him to neglect Lyta and not explain anything to her fully. Ironically Dream wanting to repair his relationship with Hob in the comics is very partially to blame for the bad impression he leaves on Lyta, which ultimately ends in the whole mess in The Kindly Ones. There is no such connection between Hob and Dream's untimely end in the show (which is an interesting element given how the show swaps out comic!Dream's foreshadowed ending in The Kindly Ones in The Sound of Her Wings with his happy reunion with Hob as well.)

Instead, we get to see Dream walking nervously through the busy streets of London. He smiles awkwardly to the man in the doorway, an attempt at human interaction that he fails at spectacularly when the man recoils, simply because Dream is strange and offputting to normal humans (which makes Hob’s reaction to him later even more meaningful). His reaction to the school kids is to close in on himself, shrugging his shoulders and looking down, as if wishing he was invisible. All of these moments indicate how uncomfortable he is in this setting, and also possibly nervous at this appointment he is late for. All of these moments are added in contradiction to how comfortable he is with Hob at the end of this episode. Still so freshly free from his traumatic experience in the glass cage, having had nothing but cruel words and mistreatment from humans for over a century, it is clear he is still getting used to being out among them again now that his sister isn't a comfortable presence by his side. The music in this scene swells and adds anticipation. This is building to something important.

When he arrives at the White Horse we get that beautiful zoom in of his face as he realises the tavern has closed down. The shock and hurt and loss flickering across his face. At this point the audience still doesn’t know the meaning of this, but it is the emphasis that remains in mind as the scene changes and we get a different Dream, with a paler face, a sour expression, and a terrible hair cut. I love this transition because it makes it so clear how he has already changed. If the microexpressions weren’t obvious before, they are now. This is a different Dream, and one you don’t really want to meet. A Dream who hasn't been unconsciously building a friendship over 6 centuries. A Dream who thinks very little of the humans in his charge.

It is this Dream who first meets Hob Gadling, in 1389. Please read on to Part 2 to dig into that meeting. :)

[seiya-starsniper]

It is still technically @pintobordeaux's birthday in my timezone so I am dedicating today's Smapril prompt to them 💖💖 Because friends gift each other smut, isn't that right @staroftheendless? 😁

Day 5 - "Do as I say."

tags: omegaverse

When Dream presents as an omega, he feels as if he were a puppet with its strings cut off.

Were he born to any other family than his own, he could have started heat suppressants. Completed schooling. Perhaps even entered society passing as a beta without having to ever acknowledge his second nature until he was ready to settle down and have a child.

The Endless family, however, has different aspirations.

Dream is passed along from suitor to suitor, and each one he finds lacking in some way or another. His blood does not sing for these men and women, his instincts do not call for any of them to be his other half. It is a fortunate thing for him that a mating cannot be completed without the full consent of the omega, else Dream feels his family would have married him off to the first willing suitor. But forced mates do not make successful pregnancies, and the Endless values their lineage above all else.

Then one day, Hob Gadling comes along.

Hob is the only alpha son of the Gadling family, and his failure to find a suitable omega mate at the age of 35 is nearly as scandalous as Dream’s unmated status at age 28. Dream knows little else about the man, but he learns many things one night when the man crowds Dream against a bookshelf alone in the Endless family library.

Dream has met and been courted by many alphas, but there are no alphas like Hob Gadling.

“Do as I say,” Hob whispers, trailing kisses along the line of Dream’s neck. “For the next few days…and we can both have what we want.”

“What could you possibly know of what I want?” Dream growls in response.

“I can smell your want, my little nightmare,” Hob growls back. “Were I a lesser gentleman, I would have you right here on the library floor.”

Dream wants to push him away, to swallow down this heat that has erupted between them. But he can feel the slick pooling between his legs, can smell the arousal from Hob’s body, and Dream wants, for the first time, to have an alpha knot inside of him.

Instead of voicing these thoughts, he says, “What’s stopping you?”

Hob practically howls as he picks Dream up from against the bookshelf and then drops him into the nearest chaise lounge in the far back corner of the library. Dream whines loudly when the alpha’s head drops between his legs and noses at the wet spot quickly forming at the seat of his trousers.

“Tell me, my pretty little nightmare,” Hob whispers to his cunt. “Tell me how you want me to touch you, how to worship you. I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.”

[qqueenofhades]

Okay – so! Thank you for all that you do for fandom and The History side of tumblr- it’s a LOT.

 I’m struggling with mapping a historical accuracy/fanon vs. canon concept. I hope you can help me untangle my thoughts on this.  Diverse representation in media is very important to me; and I’m also aware of the damage that the ‘colour-blind’ casting can do.  So! I’m trying to reconcile a common fandom perception that Hob Gadling is of South-East Asian decent.   (I know that Ferdie is!- I also have seen zero evidence that he claims Desi Diaspora as part of his identity. It makes me really uncomfortable that fandom might be projecting their desire for ‘Representation’ onto a man who lives outside his ancestral culture.)

What I do know is that Hob is a medieval freeman (?) from the south of England in the 1300s. I wonder at the possibility of his CHARACTER being of mixed race? I know that Briton and Europe and Africa were in trade. I know that People of colour moved freely around the continents!

  I’ve done some research into London population polls from the time, but I’m not certain of their degree of accuracy/usefulness.  They describe immigrants as ‘aliens’.. and most I’ve seen are European. I haven’t even come across evidence of Muslim or ‘Moorish’ people settling in London???!

The written history I’ve read tells me the Europeans didn’t establish trade with India until the mid 1400s. (How it’s possible they didn’t know about each other is Baffling and seems impossible??) Anyway. The crux of the matter is:  would Hob Gadling possibly been of mixed heritage?

I mean yes, technically, he COULD be. The most logical route for that would be to give him some family heritage from somewhere in Spain, or Iberia, which was a fully mixed-race society until well into the 13th/14th century, and was in regular trade and communication with England. The medieval Iberian Christian kingdoms of Castile-León, Aragon, and Navarre particularly were close trading partners and English/Iberian royalty married each other fairly often. It was somewhat less the case by the time Hob was born in the 1350s, but there is certainly enough previous contact to make it feasible. Muslims, Christians, and Jews all lived in Iberia (how much they all co-existed has long been one of the most debated questions in religious/historical studies), and Muslims had a presence in Spain for over 700 years, since the first arrivals in 711 CE following the collapse of the Umayyad dynasty in Baghdad, until their final expulsion under Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492.

The question, however, is if he SHOULD be headcanoned or identified as mixed-race, and while I am the least fandom-policey person ever and respect people's right to enjoy their own ideas in peace, it personally makes me a little uncomfortable. It feels related to the "fandom activism!" mindset where you should ship a more Morally Pure OTP, or your favorite is "better" if they can be somehow identified with a marginalized group, regardless of whether this fits or makes sense for the character. And in this case, Hob’s background as a good-looking white British bloke with an appropriately English-sounding name, as I describe him in AITWW, is central to both his character arc, his major mistakes, and how he has to learn and grow over time. It was absolutely vital to me that in AITWW, he had to explicitly confront the massive amounts of unearned privilege that he enjoyed over the centuries by being born into that body, and how it would be very different for him if he hadn't been. As his friend Julia puts it in their discussion in chapter 13, he had the luck to be born into a body that society automatically privileges and values and places into positions of power whether or not he deserves it, and as a black woman, she thinks immortality sounds absolutely awful. Why would she want to put up with the absolute shit it would be to live 600 years, at least in the Western world/America/Europe, in that embodiment?

Likewise, Hob agrees and admits that of course it's easy for him to want to live forever and maintain enthusiasm for life, because whatever difficulties he has faced, his race and gender have not contributed to them (which is the essence of white privilege in a nutshell). And of course, the urge to make him mixed-race might reflect some discomfort with his actual canon background and involvement in slavery, no matter if he obviously feels terribly guilty and driven to atone for over 200 years after that (as he SHOULD). In some sense, making him mixed-race might seem to mitigate that or give some reason to make him "sympathetic" while he was doing it, and frankly, I don't think 18th-century Hob deserves to get off the hook for being yet another British white man who might have felt bad about what he was doing at times, but continued to do it anyway. I'm not saying this is anyone's motive or intention, but it does trouble me, especially since Hob’s whiteness, the damage of that whiteness, and the way he has to deliberately and extensively unlearn that urge to just live life on easy mode regardless of the damage it does to others is what I find so interesting about his character. In short, if Hob was part of a racially marginalized group already, he might have made different choices, but he didn't, and now he is forced to literally live with that guilt and shame forever. He doesn't get to exonerate himself, and nor do I do it for him.

Lastly, I think this reflects a very modern and somewhat over-simplified way of thinking; to our modern and institutionally-racist-pickled brains, race is the chief category that can be explicitly constructed as Otherness, and doesn't reflect the very unclear way this was perceived and experienced in the 14th century. I.e., you note that immigrants to England "were mostly European" -- which is true, but does not reflect the dizzying array then as now, in which local, national, ethnic, and religious identities were constructed. One unattractive feature of the English national character over many centuries has been their hostility and distrust of foreigners, and this was especially the case in the 14th and especially late-14th, post-Black Plague society. For example, the Flemish were regarded as "morally inferior" since they ran several well-known brothels and red-light districts in Southwark, across the Thames from London (now part of the city), and that meant they were purveying immorality, rather than being there since the English desired their services. Xenophobia was especially rampant against "strangers" of any type, especially against Jews again post-Black Death for sadly predictable anti-Semitic reasons, and even being from continental Europe would not have made someone "English" in their eyes. Even by the Elizabethan era, it was almost impossible for a foreign-born citizen (or "denizen," meaning something akin to "permanent resident") to get licensed as a guildsman in the city of London, and without that license, you could not run a business, practice a trade, or engage in substantial paid work in any way.

Likewise, medieval notions of race were fluid, uncertain, and often linked to religion more than ethnic origin. There are several Arthurian legendarium reworkings, and epic poems such as The King of Tars, where the "happy" ending is that the mixed-race, Muslim, or black hero is converted to Christianity and abandons whatever untrue pagan religion he has been following before. This is often accompanied with a literal physical transformation turning him from black- or dark-skinned (impure) to white (pure). So yes, racial thinking and categories did exist, but it wasn't seen as fixed or unalterable, and again, wasn't really the first or primary way in which Otherness was constructed (compared to say, "Saracen," which functioned throughout almost the entire medieval era as a marker of difference and had varied racial, religious, sexual, and ethnic connotations, but originally came from the term for Muslims).

So anyway: hopefully that all makes sense and provides some context in both my historical and fandom thinking on the matter. Thanks for the question!

[twenty-qs]

Was thinking about Hob Gadling and Dream and I find it interesting how fundamentally different they are. Because on the one hand, there’s the Sandman, Lord of Dreams, Shaper of Forms, etc etc, and he’s all about hidden longings and subconscious fears. He’s the god of all the stories we tell to make sense of the world, and he’s the god of the madness that comes when we stray too far from reality. He’s the reason we have hopes for the future and nostalgia for the past.

And on the other hand, there’s Hob Gadling, Just Some Guy Who Won’t Die. I absolutely adore his reason for not dying—he just loves living too much. While he enjoys stories for the pleasure they give him, he doesn’t feel that signature Dream urge to make stories. He never expresses any specific hopes for the future or unrealized desires. He doesn’t presume that he must live because he has some grandiose purpose. All he needs for life to be worth living is simply to live. It’s also amusing to me that it took him, like, 300 years to finally fall in love with someone and start a family, and basically immediately after he did, they all died and he never did it again. The only other time he’s expressed emotional reliance on another person was when he built the New Inn and waited there for Dream for 30 years.

I just find it fitting that Dream’s only real human friend is, in some ways, the antithesis of everything Dream stands for. No wonder it took Dream 600 years give or take to finally understand the man. It’s not so much that Hob doesn’t dream, but the way he does it is so…grounded in reality, somehow? I often feel like I’m so consumed by plans and worries and fantasies that I forget to be present in my own life, so I find Hob really admirable for his ability to consistently be happy with just…living. Maybe this is something like what Dream feels and why he values his relationship with Hob so much.

[aceofwhump]

Hi! I hope you’re having a good day! (Or evening, depending on what time it is). If it isn’t too much trouble, do you have any fic recs for Morpheus whump from The Sandman, please?

I am having a lovely day! Thank you for asking! I hope you are too!

Oh my gosh DO I! I've been reading a lot of Sandman fics lately so I've got quite a few recs for you!

Dream of Death by Gueniver Summary: What if Jessamy had managed to escape from Alex's gun and could inform the Endless of Dream's Capture? What if Death could save Dream only after a few years of capture? The tools are still lost, but he has his sibling's help.

Losing control by Random_writer (SB_95) Summary: When everything seemed too much for him to manage, Dream seeks refuge in the house of his only friend. The problem is that the situation is not so simple, and now his family decides that they want to help him solve his problems, even without him asking for help. However, Dream only wants help from one person, and is not a Endless.

Shall We Dream (of a Brighter Future)? by Merianon Summary: In which: Alexander Burgess is a little more curious and open-minded as a child; Jessamy the Raven takes a risk; Dream of the Endless just wants out of the snow globe; Paul McGuire thinks Alex should have done this years ago. Now featuring Hob, who's very happy that his "not"-friend might be a little more than that.

A shift in the sand by purplegardenshark Summary: Alex Burgess makes better decisions, and a friend. The story shifts accordingly.

slow burn by arahir Summary: Morpheus’s expression melts into unreadability. “Would you have come to my rescue again, Hob Gadling?” “Yes. God, yes, I would have. Of course, I would have." Hob learns where his friend has been, and even Dream of the Endless might, on rare occasion, need a hand.

Darker, Still by CeruleanHeart Summary: When Dream doesn't show up for their appointment in 1989, Hob decides to devote a part of his immortality to looking for his mysterious friend. He is dedicated not to wait and hope for another century for the slim chance of seeing him again. Even if he has to bribe, lie and steal, use every trick in the book he's learned in the past 600 years, he will find him. After over a century, Dream has almost given up on the hope of ever escaping his prison when help finally shows up in the form of someone least expected, compelling him to re-evaluate the nature of his interest in an old acquaintance.

And I'll kneel down, wait for now by Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish Summary: As the night comes, Hob waits. The person that arrives is not his usual companion. But they certainly direct him to his wayward friend.

Looking For A Dream by Picture_Yourself Summary: A prequel to my fic I'm Morpheus, Please Dance With Me. It's 1989, and Hob Gadling is waiting for his friend to show up. But unfortunately, Dream is still trapped in the Burgess estate with no way to escape. Now Hob needs to find out what happened to his friend and help him the best he can. On his adventures he meets a... colorful collection of ordinary and fantastical characters.

Discontinued until further notice :(

For Want of Caution by mayanpaw Summary: Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too��� intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily similar to his friend.

I just wanna sing until I die by creativefuckerzspring Summary: First, He turns up 130 or so years later. Then, he turns up 6 years later at his doorstep, shivering and drenched like a wet cat. Hob is utterly confused why the lonely Not Friend of his is breaking patterns so severely.

Baby Brother by Anonymous Summary: Death has known for years why Dream had fallen silent and where he was being held, but she's been unable to act upon her knowledge until he'd been locked up for over thirty years. When she finally has the time to save him, she is horrified to see what they've been doing to her baby brother all these years.

Stubborn, Prideful, Dear by two_hundred_percent_trash Summary: First, Lucienne was Dream’s raven. Then, she became his librarian. Through it all, she was always by his side. It was always the two of them, together. ~*~ A queerplatonic interpretation/relationship study of Morpheus and Lucienne’s relationship.

Step by Step by Hopeful_Foolx Summary: After all that happened, that the Lord of Dreams gets sick is a surprise ... to nobody but himself. Three chapter with three (or more) people that are there for him.

To Learn to Breathe Again by ironlin Summary: Upon returning back to the Dreaming, Dream finds himself struggling. Thankfully, Lucienne is there to help.

Better to love whether you win or lose or die by WitchyBee Summary:

The life and times of one Robert Gadling. - - Excerpt: Hob ought to take the hint; he knows he should. A crystal-clear rejection of his friendship. Message received. But Hob Gadling didn’t survive plague and war, weather years of hardships and heartbreak and Thatcher-era Britain, without a profound sense of stubbornness about him. Unyielding hope, however foolish it seemed sometimes, got him here. It’s why he’s still alive

Regis Sanguinem by AllOfTheChaos Summary: Alexander stands up on shaking feet. “I can’t do this anymore.” He takes a few steps back and his eyes shift towards Dream. “I’m sorry.” He whispers before turning around and heading up the stairs, one of the guards quickly follows after him, a hand on young man’s back to steady him. “Alex! Alex, get back here right now!” Roderick hollers back. He turns to the Endless and growls. “You’re never getting out of here.” Before following after his son. *** Roderick Burgess doesn't meet a fatal end and after his son leaves him, things take a dark turn. In his desperate attempt to take power from his prisoner, Roderick Burgess resorts to twisted ways to force the Endless to give him what he desired: Immortality. Dream never thought humans capable of such cruelty and yet here he was now scared and in pain, hoping for salvation.

More often than not. by TrainWreakBeck Summary: “Is that why you missed our meeting then? Some fucker had you in a cage?” There’s a slight growl in Hobs voice as he has to speak his friend's fate aloud, he expects him to again be amused by Hobs anger but he simply looks away towards the window with no clear expression. “…perhaps.” There’s no real intonation in his tone and Hob feels a brief stab of anxiety over what that could mean.

In which Dream and Hob have a conversation which quickly leads them to decide that meeting once every hundred years isn’t quite enough for them anymore.

which is worse, life without death or sleep without dreams? by galaxy_of_pi Summary:

It had been thirty three years since he was abandoned. It had been a hundred and thirty three years. It had been a lifetime, and it had been an instant. But Hob was waiting, and would always be waiting, because his Stranger was worth it. AKA the heist to break Dream out of his snowglobe prison

Bones Don't Rust by not_whelmed_yet Summary: The same capture & rescue fic everyone has written, but playing off two ideas: - I wanted to see Dream’s physical recovery take long enough that he could begin his mental/emotional recovery before heading back to the Dreaming - There’s a lot of ways to hurt an anthropomorphic entity without taking them out of their snowglobe

[scifrey]

Hold Tight (5/6)

Status: Complete. Unbeta’d, we die like Hob doesn’t.

Series: The Hob Adherent series.

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

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death. Also includes some erotic content. Please curate your internet experience accordingly.

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

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Lyta Trevor-Hall, Daniel Hall, Rose Walker, Jed Walker 

Summary:

Hob is tasked with his first quest as Vassal of the Endless, Morpheus is bad at using his words, Destiny thinks he’s so clever, Desire makes a confession, Rose Walker meets her Uncle’s boyfriend, and Lyta Hall punches Dream of the Endless in the nose. Or, the one where Hob Gadling turns into everyone’s therapist, and honestly, he ain’t mad about it.

Set at the end of Cling Fast - after the premiere of “Elizabethan Manor”, but before the Epilogue.

READ ON AO3 or below:

Chapter Five

Hob saw the punch telegraphed from a mile away, and could have stopped it. He just assumed that Morpheus would stop it himself, and his intervention wouldn’t be necessary.

More fool Hob.

Morpheus tips backwards in surprise, landing hard on his arse on the ground, shock and pain warring on his aristocratic face. Hob holds out a hand to him and Morpheus bats it away, mortified.

Fine, stay on the ground then, Hob thinks genially, amused by his lover’s tantrum.

“Whatever you think he did to deserve that,” Hob says, turning to face the furious woman. "He probably did. Hi. We're supposed to be meeting Morpheus' niece and nephew, but you're a nice surprise."

It’s an utter lie, but Hob knows the value of sprinkling in little white ones occasionally.

"Nice to finally meet you in person, Dr. Gadlen. I'm Rose," says the young black woman with the multicoloured dreadlocks. She has leapt forward to keep her friend from kicking Morpheus in the head while he's down, otherwise Hob would offer her his hand. "That's my brother Jed."  

Jed waves from where he's taken the stroller with the infant a good few paces away. The cherub with the wise green gaze watches all of the action with wide-eyed delight. Lyta Trevor-Hall bucks in her hold, and Rose makes an oof sound.

"Uh, Uncle Dream didn't say he was coming with you,” Jed says. He's looking warily between the two groups of adults, unsure whose side he wants to be on just yet.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Hob says, and wiggles his fingers in a little jazz hand shimmy. "Surprise!"

"Helluva fucking surprise," Lyta snarls.

“I elpída mou, ” Morpheus burbles, wide-eyed and betrayed from where he is splayed out in the grass. Purple-black starstuff leaks from his nose. 

"Oh come on," Hob says, helping Morpheus to his feet. This time Morpheus lets him. “That was funny.”

Once Hob has dusted Morpheus off, then sticks out his hand. “Hi, I’m Robert Gadlen, but you can call me Hob. And you are…?” he asks, as if he didn't already know. Polite was polite, after all.

“Lyta Trevor-Hall,” she says, so shocked by his blase gregariousness that she stops struggling. With nothing else to do, she takes his hand and shakes it. 

Problem solved.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lyta,” Hob says. "And you, Rose, and Jed, and young master Hall. And now that the world’s worst family reunion has begun, why don't we find somewhere to sit down and down and use our words instead of our fists.”

“I have nothing to say to him,” Lyta spits at Morpheus.

“You don’t have to,” Hob says, and crowds Morpheus down onto the nearest park bench, putting himself between his boyfriend and his attacker. "He's surprisingly terrible at polite conversation for being the Prince of Stories."

“Hob Gadling," Morpheus says, using his full-on intimidating Dream of the Endless voice, the egocentric ponce. " Do not manhandle me–”

“Just clean your face, duckie,” Hob says sternly, but he squeezes Morpheus’ shoulder affectionately, just to let him know that he’s not mad. “Let me handle this.”

"Here, Uncle Dream,” Jed Walker says. He pulls a handful of napkins from his jacket pocket, and Morpheus takes them grumpily, and dabs at his face.

“You know what he is?” Lyta hisses at Hob. Her voice is quivering as lifts the baby in the stroller onto her hip, pressing him close against her heart. “What he did to me?”

Hob glances over his shoulder to see how Morpheus will react to that, but he’s just glaring back at the woman, face once more impassive and imperious.

“Yes. I know who and what he is." Hob tucks his hands into his pockets, rounds his shoulders, does his best to look like a harmless, non-toxic professor in a nebbish jumper. "And I’m going to go out on a limb and say it has something to do with…” he looks meaningfully, politely, at the child.

“He murdered my husband!” Lyta grinds out between clenched teeth, fury in every syllable, in the mottled flush of her face, in the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes.

“I did not,” Morpheus says gravely.

Rose squeezes Lyta’s shoulder comfortingly, “Lyta, honey, Hector was already dead. We’ve been over this.”

“I only returned him to where he belonged.”

“You killed him,” Lyta sobs. “You could have saved him!”

At this, Morpheus does look chagrined. “I could not,” he says gently, earnestly. “No more than Rose Walker could, as a Dream Vortex. The granting of life when there was none is not within the timae of my power.”

“Hector was just a dream,” Rose says gently, leading Lyta to the bench set slightly apart from Morpheus and Hob's. “And that doesn’t make it any less real, but he couldn’t have crossed through to the Waking. I’m so sorry.”

Hob shivers, thinking of Death, and Time, and how he has clearly been luckier than this Hector Hall, whoever he was.

Jed pulls over the stroller and sits too, so the Walkers are bracketing the Halls protectively. Hob hopes that Jed hasn’t just given Lyta access to a projectile weapon. Though, he’s reasonably sure he can catch a rattle or a diaper bag before it hits either him, or his boyfriend in the head. Maybe.

“He was real, and our baby is too!” Lyta sniffs hard, unappeased and uncaring that people around them are starting to stare. “And then, do you know what that monster tells me? He says he has a right to my son, that he has a claim to him, and you expect me to just sit here and play nice when-w-when–”

"When your son is the heir,” Hob finishes gently.

Lyta stumbles to a stop, gawping at Hob. “The what? The heir to what?"

Wait, Hob thinks, catching up. Wait a minute. I thought I was the only one out of the loop but… oh my god, the tight-lipped bastard! "You didn't tell her, Morpheus?"

"What did he tell you, because he–”

“Okay, okay,” Hob says, “I think we all need to just take a breath and–”

“Is it now?” Lyta interrupts. "He threatened to come back and take my child away from me. Is that why you’re here? Well you can pry Daniel out of my cold, dead–"

“He what,” Hob says, rounding on Morpheus. “You actually said that to her?”

“My precise wording may have been–”

“You unbelievable twat!” Hob pushes away from Morpheus. He stands, fury zinging through his veins, and fists his hands on his hips or he might be tempted to punch Morpheus in the nose himself.

Morpheus immediately looks contrite. “Hob–”

“Nuh-uh, don’t you try to sweet talk me, you dickhead," Hob says. " How could you say that to her? After the whole spiel you gave me about not being able to unmake the kid, and us being the fathers of dead sons, and you… you just said that? Have you even heard of the soft approach?”

“The child is largely dreamstuff, erasti," Morpheus protests. "Without the intervention of the Endless, the child will not survive in the Waking–”

“My baby is going to die?” Lyta howls.

"Enough!" Hob snarls, and feels like seven kinds of asshole when Lyta flinches back, covering the baby's head with her hand. Daniel wails, finally picking up on the tense atmosphere, and Jed immediately leans around Lyta's arm to try to soothe him. "Enough," Hob repeats gently. "I think we all need a moment to reset, and move this conversation somewhere less public."

"My apartment is just on the other side of the park," Rose says. "If Uncle Dream can—"

"Hold the image of your home in your mind, Rose Walker," Morpheus offers, a little too eagerly, and in a swirl of sand, suddenly they're all in a cozy, well-appointed living room.

Lyta looks like she's about to be sick, and Jed immediately takes the baby from her and retreats into a bedroom that’s visible beyond an open-shelf divider. The child starts crying as soon as he's separated from his mother, fat tears rolling down fat cheeks, little frightened howls piercing Hob straight through the heart.

Lyta gags and coughs. Rose urges her towards the bathroom, but Lyta won't go.

Instead she puts her body in the doorway, between the two young fellows and Hob.

"Don't you… don't you dare use that shit on me ever again, don't you—" she says instead, hunched and advancing on Morpheus.

"I apologize," Morpheus says immediately, backing away from Lyta and her shaking, pointing finger. " I am… I am at a loss what… Hob? I do not understand the rancor with which—"

"You don't understand it?" Hob asks him, aghast. "You remember what it’s like to be a father, I know you do."

“I did not mean—of course I remember, that is why I—I want to protect the child!”

“That’s not what it sounds like!”

"Daniel Hall is made of the Dreaming, please understand," Morpheus says, pleading and desperation in his voice in a way that Hob's never heard before. "He is as much my blood as Rose and Jed. I could no more harm him than slit my own throat. He is a part of me."

"Harm him, no, but you'll steal him away like a… a Goblin King!" Lyta screams.

Morpheus rears back and pauses, tilting his head to the side as he accesses his mental rolodex of pop-culture references. When he finds it, his expression sours, his nose wrinkling up. "I do not maintain a Bog of Eternal Stench."

The extent of his affronted horror is enough to make Lyta burst into hysterical laughter.

Rose and Jed follow soon after, their humour more genuine, and soon Hob is dragged into it, the punchy cackling contagious. Only Morpheus doesn't laugh, crossing his arms and retreating to a corner of the kitchen to sulk.

And just like that, the terrible tension is broken. The laughter dissipates. They're all left staring warily at one another, while Daniel sniffs and whines, and generally makes his displeasure with the world known.

"Okay, I'm making some tea," Rose says. "Do you drink tea, Uncle Dream?"

"No."

"Yes, he does," Hob says, chivying Morpheus into one of the seats around the kitchen table. "And he takes it with as much sugar as will dissolve in it."

"Ew," Jed says, handing Daniel over to his mother, before coming to sit beside Morpheus. "You'll get cavities."

"I do not have teeth." 

Jed laughs again, like this is the funniest thing he has ever heard in his life. He leans against Morpheus' shoulder, and instead of pushing the boy back, Morpheus instead lifts his arms and allows Jed to tuck into his side. He runs a protective palm down Jed's arm, and Hob feels all the anger inside him melt away.

It is very telling that Jed sees Morpheus as a safe harbor.

Daniel quiets down, watching Morpheus from over his mother's arms, snot-nosed and flushed with tears, misery entirely forgotten. The quiet stretches out, only the burble of the water in the kettle slowly coming to a boil to interrupt it.

Lyta hesitates for a moment, then turns her eyes to Jed, clearly thinking the same as Hob and assessing Jed's comfort with the creature she has until now only seen as a threat. She sits at the table, though she perches on the edge of her chair, ready to bolt at any moment.

"Are you really a father?" she whispers, smoothing Daniel's curls up off his sweaty neck.

Morpheus meets her solemn gaze with his own. "I was. He died. I begged my siblings to spare him his fate, but they would not." Something in his aloof expression cracks, and a bit of the pain and self recrimination shows through. "No, I must be fair to them and their Functions. They could not. I knew this, but I could not accept it."

Hob sits now himself, wanting to take Morpheus' hand, to comfort him. But his lover is proud, and may not want to show that side of himself before these people. Hob will let Morpheus reach for him, if he's wanted.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” Lyta says, and sounds like she means it.

Morpheus pauses to choose his next words carefully. "The pain I suffered was so great that I hardened my heart against all love thereafter. I abandoned his mother to the burden of her own grief alone, and eventually she—rightly—left me. I neglected my creations and my realm—they suffered. And in my arrogance and pain, I shunned and abused my siblings, until in their aggrieved resentment, they sought to harm me in return." Here he squeezes Jed close, and turns an apologetic look to Rose, the living and innocent result of those schemes. "And in my pride, I would not ask them for help when I needed it most.  As a result,  was not here to manage the Vortex, and young master Daniel is the culmination of those errors. Though I cannot regret his existence, for I am very pleased and esteem him dearly, I regret that your pain was the price of my hubris." Morpheus meets Hob's eyes meaningfully, and they both know he's talking about the Burgesses. Then he turns his eyes to the woman across from him, and her son. " And for that, I apologize.”

Lyta listens to his apology thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip as the kettle clicks off. Rose fills a teapot on the counter. Hob helps her ferry mugs, milk, and sugar to the table, and is acutely reminded of the first night he and Morpheus bared their souls to one another.

"What happened to him?" Rose asks, when they've each doctored their tea to their liking. "Your son, I mean. If you don't mind talking about it."

"You already know what happened to him, Rose Walker," Morpheus says sadly. "His name was Orpheus."

Lyta gasps, and clutches Daniel closer. Rose covers her mouth with a startled oh, and Jed looks around and clocks that now isn't the best time to ask for clarification. Daniel fusses, pushing back so he's not smothered in Lyta's chest, and surprises them all by reaching across the table for Morpheus.

"No, little one, " Morpheus tells the babe. "I am as eager to strengthen our bond as you, but your mother is in greater need of your comfort than I." 

Lyta gasps in surprise, eye bouncing between Daniel and Morpheus. “You.. you’re talking with him?”

"Of course you speak baby," Hob says, feeling a smirk pulling against his cheeks. He hides it in his mug.

“He sleeps, and when he sleeps, just as you do, he dreams. He spends much of his time in my throne room. As such, we converse often,” Morpheus tells her. Daniel babbles something angry and huffy sounding, and Morpheus chuckles. "Come now, that is hardly a kingly turn of phrase."

Lyta stares down at Daniel in shock, and no little amount of growing hurt. "Did he insult me?"

"Quite the opposite," Morpheus assures her. "He was being very complimentary to you, but quite demanding of me. Imperious little Prince."

"Prince," Lyta says slowly, then drags her eyes up to Hob. "You called him 'the heir', too. What does it mean?"

"Very broadly speaking, " Morpheus says, before Hob can try to answer. " I am all dreams, and all dreams are me. Everything you see in the Dreaming, everything you experience and taste and touch, it is made of my essence, my dreamstuff."

"Even Hector?" Lyta asks, catching on quickly.

"Even Hector, " Morpheus agrees. "His soul was his own, pulled from the Sunless Lands by Rose's power, and your yearning. But his body was dreamstuff. So, when he lay with you…" Morpheus trails off uncomfortably, gazing over at Jed.

"I know how babies are made, Uncle Dream," the boy huffs. "I'm not a little kid."

"Quite, my heroic Sandman," Morpheus agrees. "And so while Daniel is human, he is also of the Dreaming. He is, in the most base way of understanding… my son. And therefore heir to the Dreaming."

"No," Lyta says immediately. "Hector was his father. Not you."

"Okay," Hob cuts in, when it seems like Morpheus is about to protest. He already knows that this will be a losing battle before Morpheus even tries to fight it. "What about uncle, then? Is that acceptable?"

"We already call him Uncle Dream," Rose adds gently. "It makes sense for Danny to call him that too."

"What if I don't want you to have any part of his life?" Lyta challenges.

Again, Morpheus begins to puff up like an affronted pigeon, and again Hob interrupts him.

"Hey, that's her choice," Hob tells Morpheus. "And we'll respect it, won't we?"

He doesn't add that it doesn't matter if Lyta doesn't want Morpheus in Daniel's life; she can't police her son's sleeping hours. That seems a needlessly cruel thing to point out, and a surefire way to get Lyta to issue an ultimatum. Better to talk her around to them, than to throw down a gauntlet.

"And what are you in all of this?" Lyta asks, "Speaking for him?"

"Oh me?" Hob laughs, tugging on his earlobe. "I'm nobody important. I'm just the one who communicates with humans on his behalf because he’s a bit rubbish at it, sometimes. I’m just the boyfriend, aren't I, duckie?"

Morpheus scowls at him. "You are not 'nobody'. You are my hope."

"Hope?" Lyta echoes, confused.

Rose's expression dawns into understanding and warm delight. " Oooohhh, I get it! Like Hopes and Dreams. Are you Endless, too?"

"No," Hob says quickly. "It's just one of his nicknames for me."

"So you're human, like us?" Lyta asks, intrigued.

"Human, yes," Hob allows, tugging on his ear again. He hates admitting this, especially since she's lost her husband, and it might come as a slap in the face to know that there are ways to grant people everlasting life. "Like you, no. Not for, eugh, six and a half centuries or so."

"Wow," Jed says. "You've been dating for six and half centuries and you're still just the boyfriend? Uncle Dream! When you gonna put a ring on it?"

"Jeddy!" Rose hisses, but behind her mock ire she's amused.

"To be fair, we've only been dating for a little under a year," Hob clarifies.

"I do not need to debase our relationship by 'putting a ring on it' to keep Hob by my side. Our affinity transcends human rituals and vows."

"Oh, it does, does it?" Hob asks with an arched eyebrow, choosing not to be upset because he knows there's no point in it. "You're lucky I love you."

"I have offended you," Morpheus points out hastily. He's getting faster at recognizing when he does it, at least. "How have I offended you, agápi mou?"

"You intimated that you don't need to marry me because I'm a sure thing."

Morpheus' eyebrows draw downward in confusion. "But you are a sure thing, Hob Gadling. Or are you not sure in your affection for me? If this is true, you must tell me so—"

"No, no, duckie, I'm fine. I love you," Hob reassures him, twining the fingers of Morpheus' closest hand in his own, and lifting it to kiss the knuckles. "You're stuck with me."

"Okay, I… I see it now," Lyta admits, looking back and forth between him. "He is a terrible communicator." She pets Daniel's hair again, looking down at her son. "So when you said 'claim' my baby, you really meant… that you just want be a part of his life?"

Daniel looks up at his mother and babbles something very serious, and very meaningful. Then he looks over to Morpheus to translate.

"An excellent compromise, " Morpheus concedes. "You shall be Daniel in the Waking, my protege in the Dreaming, and when the time comes for you to step into your Function, I will continue to act as your mentor in my own mortal sleeping hours."

"So… my baby won't be taken away?" Lyta asks.

"No, " Morpheus says. "He wishes to remain your child, and to grow up as mortal children do. This way, when he shepherds the humanity's Dreaming, he can do so with a fuller understanding of what it means to be human. It is a very wise suggestion. I was never human. I came into being as a fully formed adult, and as a result, I have had to turn to others to guide me through the human experience."

Now it's his turn to kiss the back of Hob's hand.

Lyta's shoulders slowly lower, and she finally relaxes into her chair. "This being two different people at the same time, it won't harm him?"

"No."

"And him being the… the culmination of all Dreams, that won't hurt him either?"

"No."

"And what about him here, the… the human Daniel. Will he be safe?"

Morpheus hesitates, and Hob could kick him, because it makes Lyta tense up again.

"Listen, Lyta, he'll be fine. I promise," Hob says seriously. "He'll have the anthropomorphic personification of Nightmares watching over him, and for anything that gets past Morpheus, there's me. I literally cannot be killed, and believe me, a lot of people have tried in a lot of very creative ways. I promise you, with every breath in my body I will protect Daniel."

"There, see?" Jed says to Daniel. "Uncle Dream and Uncle Hob won't let anything bad happen to you, Danny."

Hob lets loose a startled laugh. "Well, I'm only his uncle if it's through marriage. And as we’ve established…" He lifts his left hand and does the Beyoncé flip.

"Then through marriage it must be," Morpheus says regally, with a firm nod. 

It's the kind of nod he uses when he's struck a bargain. Morpheus lifts his hand, palm up, and plucks a golden ring out of the air. It's lustrous and heavy, with a cushion-cut ruby embedded in the band itself.

"I'm sorry," Hob chuckles, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline in surprise. "Is this you proposing?"

"Yes? " Morpheus says, confusion crawling over his face again. "Does the ring not make that clear, Hob?"

"Oh my god," Lyta laughs, and it is free and genuine for the first time. "You really are bad at communicating, aren't you!"

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

[moorishflower]

Re: Your Addams Family Post, I now have the mental image of Gomez pretty much adopting Hob as another brother/cousin/what have you. "Children! Met your new Uncle!"

It starts with the auction.

Hob doesn't think of himself as a collector, but he's also self-aware enough that his doing so is more of a defense mechanism than anything else. Because he does. He collects. He can't help himself -- so much of his life can only be traced backwards through the shapes he's left behind, his self, of a necessity, always needing to vanish into the background. He follows his own history through letters to Dear Robert Gadlyn, portraits painted with one of his hats in the background, an authentic Victorian jacket supposedly worn by Wilde himself, and which Hob vividly remembers shucking from Oscar's shoulders, leaving it to puddle forgotten on the floor while they'd kissed in sweet silence on the settee.

So when he gets an email from his friend Kev at Hansons, a "check this book out mate" sort of deal with an eyes emoji appended to it, Hob is already intrigued. Kev is good at finding him the more esoteric things for his not-collection, and hasn't steered him wrong before, and he's not disappointed when he opens the link to find a listing for a book. A book, specifically, from the 1600s. Being an Account of the Dread Pirate Sylvia, her Ancestors, her Descendants, and Her Pets, it says, though it's not the title that catches his eye so much as the provided scans of some of the pages. The handwriting is beautiful, flowing and elegant and heavy on the page, and it makes his heart ache for a time before keyboards and typewriters, when gorgeous penmanship could be counted as a virtue and not just a hobby. There are sketches of fantastical sea beasts, navigational maps, the most beautifully-rendered charcoal drawing of an orca he's ever seen, and.

And a drawing of him.

Not him as he was in 1699, when this was apparently written, but him in 1374. Him, younger, fresh-faced, just a slip of a beard still, his head tilted back, laughing. Great great etc grandmother's cousin, says a caption beneath it, in that same heavy and flowing hand. Late 1300s? Must track him down

Motherfucker, Hob thinks, and sends a few emails.

Twenty-four hours later, he's the proud owner of a fantastically well-preserved diary/travelogue/grimoire, having shelled out a significant amount of funds to even get the thing, on account of some American trying to outbid him at every turn. He's not surprised, then, when he gets an email shortly after his final bid has been locked in, from the rather posh-sounding addamsfamilypatriarch@addams.com

The contents of the email, though. Are, to say the least, alarming.

I say my dear boy, it starts, I don't suppose we could come to an agreement as to a different price for Lady Penelope Addams' only surviving diary? If you're interested in antiques of rich and unusual history, I am certain I can provide. Only it contains one of very few references to a lost branch of our family, the Lady Penelope's great great etc grandmother and her kin, and I, being invested in genealogy, am eager to explore this hidden part of our family tree.

Absolutely not, Hob thinks, shutting his laptop with a click. Absolutely buggering bloody fuck not, he thinks, shoving a sweater into his suitcase, because it's winter, and it's Chicago, and he has no idea what sort of weather to expect. This is fucking insanity, he thinks, hands folded in his lap on the plane.

What are you doing? he asks himself, as the door to the grand gothic manor opens, and Hob, who has just trekked a portion of a mile through a swamp and had to kick an alligator to keep it from lunging at his suitcase, looks down at the man who had identified himself in emails as Gomez Addams, his. His relative. Somehow, far distant, but his.

"Robert Gadling," he says, with obvious relish, and Hob feels himself hooked by the crook of his elbow, hauled into the foyer with surprising force. "Come in! Come in! Children! Come meet your new uncle!"