#matthew is looking at Lucienne like ‘is he already going too far?’ and Lucienne is like ‘I know but also this is him going slow’

[im-not-corrupted]

Well I gotta send in a request now!

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the route to The New Inn. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thepaintedlady00]

The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

TW: dragged to Hell, blood, gore, violence, witnessing attempts of suicide, mentions of nudity, protective!Dream, we're in Hell y'all, buckle up it's gonna be a ride! 😈

Chapter 7: Hell Has 1825 Doors

Morpheus couldn't take his eyes off of her as she stepped out into the downpour of rain and smiled at him. She was so beautiful, far more than he'd remembered. Everything about her felt like it was part of some dream, one of his own making. She was warm and bright, smelled of lilac and peonies and rain, she was kind and thoughtful and far too good for him. Penelope Barlow, the girl he shared a bond with, the girl that had tried to free him, the girl whose smile and eyes held the entire night's sky within them… the girl he adored with every part of him was far, far too good for him. It was so much easier to love her when she was dead… Easier because he didn't have to fight against it every second. Now, standing with her within his reach he struggled to resist pulling her into his arms and never letting go.

He watched her twirl and laugh as she danced through the courtyard, a sight he never thought he'd get to see. He watched her until she disappeared beyond the buildings and went on her way back to her home. Home. He thought, reminding himself of her life here, the life she deserved to live without him complicating it more than he already had. Roderick Burgess may have been her captor, but he had been the one that doomed her to share in his isolated torment. Dream didn't care that it had been out of his control, he only cared about the part he had played and in his mind that made him just as bad as the all the others that had hurt her. He would make up for it, he'd decided not long after she'd given him Jessamys' ashes, that he would not allow Penelope to lose anything else because of him. Even if it meant he had to swallow his heated thoughts and push the constant ache for her touch down into the depths of his shattered soul.

From the ground beside him Matthew cawed. "So… You and Penny?"

"I am not discussing this with you..." He replied harshly before adding, "There is nothing to discuss."

"Riiighht, whatever you say." His annoyingly mocking tone had Dream sending the bird a pointed glare. "So, what's our next move?"

"I am going in search of my helm. And you are going back to the Dreaming."

"Or, hear me out, you can take me with you and we'll never have to have this conversation again!"

"That does sound tempting," he admitted when something occurred to him. Lucienne. He'd already spent a century away from home without giving her any warning or explanation. Looking down at the raven he decided, I will not risk abandoning her with no warning again. Kneeling down in front of Matthew he said, "In fact, where I am going I may have need of you."

This visibly caused Matthew to perk up. "Yeah? Where are we going?"

"Hell."

"Hell. Hell as in Hell-Hell or are you being metaphorical? Either way we should probably check in with Lucienne first right?" He chuckled nervously. "See how she's feeling about it. I'm gonna go out on a limb, which is something birds actually do, and say she will not be in favor of hell going."

Standing he retrieved his pouch from within his coat, pouring it out over his palm watching the bird ramble on as the sand swirled around them. "Buuutt I don't get the sense that you're listening so fuck it, let's go to hell!"

As soon as Dream's feet hit the dry ground he could feel it, an unnerving scream forced down the bond, and the mark on his wrist ached in a way that made his stomach twist. Something was wrong, and as he looked out over the vast ash covered realm that was Hell, he had a strong suspicion as to who was responsible.

***

Lucifer Morningstar. The devil stood before me clothed in white robes with great bat-like wings spread out on either side of them. As I looked up at their face through the fire that stood between us I realized why Lucifer had been God's favorite. They were so beautiful, their skin smooth as marble, their heavenly eyes, golden hair that curled around their face. They looked angelic, all except their smile… The cold upturn of their lips held no joy, at least not true joy, only the mocking facade of it.

They moved gracefully, like the flames of the fire, as they tucked their wings in and stepped around the table, moving closer to me. With one mere twitch of their fingers two demons pulled me up from the ground, their hands course and their grip far too tight. A finger lifted my chin and their eyes examined my face closely. "Such a beautiful thing you are. So bright, even here, even after everything that's tormented you. Tell me your name, mortal."

My mouth stayed closed. Out of defiance perhaps, or more likely it was simple fear that stilled my tongue. Their smile widened. "It appears the mortal needs encouragement."

A gnarled hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing and lifting me up off the ground. In a voice that made my ears ring it spoke a simple command, "Your name."

The grip loosened ever so slightly, only enough for me to suck in a tiny breath. "P…Pe… Penelope."

Lucifer waved their hand and I was dropped to the ground, gasping for air. When I looked back up a woman stood in front of me, silver plates of armor glistened in the firelight, dark hair falling over her shoulder and the entire left side of her face melted and burnt away to the bone. Without a word she grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet before following Lucifer to the other side of the table. They beckoned me with a finger, but before I could move on my own one of the demons had grabbed me and thrown me into the side of the table. 

My ribs cracked, if not snapped, and all the breath was sucked from my lungs and I held onto the edge and gasped. "Sit." The demon growled. Slowly seating myself in the chair beside me I glared up through the now dwindling fire at the now pleased grin of the devil as they took a seat opposite mine.

"I must say I'm... Disappointed." Lucifer said with a sigh. "You don't seem nearly as frightened as I'd hoped."

"Oh I'm terrified," I admitted. "I'm in hell, getting thrown around by demons and having a conversation with the actual devil."

They tilted their head. "Yet I see no tears, hear no begging!"

"I'm not much of a beggar," I said, trying not to focus on all the horrible possibilities this meeting of ours could end with. "And I have a feeling that if you'd wanted me dead or strung up and tortured we wouldn't be sitting here. You want something."

They restrained a smile. "Clever, aren't you?"

"No, not at all. You're just making it obvious."

The fire in the room roared. "I'd heard the rumor ages ago, the great Dream of the Endless soul bound to a mortal girl, a preposterous thing." Soul bound? My mind caught the words and clung to them. Now wasn't the time for questions, but later… If there would still be one. "Still, I was curious and I sent my demons to see if these rumors had any merit. For years nothing and then all of a sudden… You. All it took was one bump to the shoulder and there you were."

My jaw clenched at the recollection of last nights near accident on the sidewalk. The demons guttural groans echoed as he, they, moved to stand behind me. "I'm still confused as to what I have that you want."

"Oh nothing!" They laughed lowly. "But you do make a lovely piece of bait for our dear sweet Dream. He's on his way here now, and I wanted to have something grand to greet him with."

"He's not stupid enough to fall for that."

Lucifer pursed their lips. "You don't know how important to him you are do you?"

"Not more important than saving his realm."

"We shall see." They motioned again. "Sagthes, please prepare our guest for The Journey."

Before I could ask what they meant a heavy mass slammed into the side of my head, knocking me out.

***

They had followed Squaterbloat, played his games with the forests of mists and bodies and Nada, until, at last they came to the path to the palace. If Dream hadn't been angry before he certainly was now. The memories of Nada curling around him like a thorned vine, squeezing a part of him that still felt love for her, a part of him that regretted his cruel response to her refusal. It hadn't bothered him before, not like this, not at all, but things had changed since then. It was now more clear than ever as to why he and Nada could not have been together.

For all he'd loved about her, for everything they'd been to one another Nada though strong, wise and everything he had wanted would not have truly been his equal, nor had she wanted to be. Dream knew, somewhere deep down that Nada had never desired eternity with him, or perhaps eternity at all. She did not want to be a goddess nor did she want to be his queen and he hated her for it as much as he hated that he let himself be so hurt by her refusal. He also knew somewhere deep down that his siblings part in their relationship had caused at least some of this outcome, but the decision of her fate had been his. Nada would have been a great lady and queen, but she would not have been his lady, his queen. Those titles belonged to another.

He saw now, more clearly than ever, that Nada had not been forever. None of his past lovers had. Penelope, however much he wanted to keep her far from him, he could not deny was something… Someone that would be. He felt it through their bond, her undoubting and unwavering feelings for him. If he asked her for forever she would say yes, but he would never ask… He could not. Her usual hum of strong emotions had gone silent since they neared the palace. Whatever game Lucifer was playing, Dream feared he'd have to play along. His only hope now was that this game was one he could win and one Penelope could survive. 

He entered the mountain palace with an iron grip holding his anger in check. No matter how badly Dream wanted to storm the palace, demand the release of that which belonged to him and kill any that had even dared to breathe the same air as her, he could not. He was a guest, above that he was weakened. He ascended the stairs to the large circular room and through the fire Lucifer's tall wings and white garb stood out against the grey skies and black rock. 

He clasped his hands together in front of him, gripping them tightly as he said, "Hello."

Wings turned as Lucifer smiled at him. Wordlessly they descended from the balcony, dimming the fire of the large round table in the center of the ornate room, and stood in front of him. "Hello, Dream."

"Greetings to you, Lucifer Morningstar." He said calmly, every inch of him vibrating with the want to say her name, to demand her safe return to his side. His eyes shifted to the figure lurking behind one of the tall gold adorned pillars. "And to you Mazikeen of the Lillim."

"Greetings, Dream Lord," Mazikeen said.

Lucifer smiled. "You look well, Dream. Are you well? And your family, Destiny, Death, Despair, and the others?"

His smile was tight, forced. "I presume the Ruler of Hell knows this is no social call."

"Have you come to join forces then?" They tilted their head slightly. "To ally your realm to ours? To acknowledge the sovereignty of Hell?"

Do they truly intend to draw this out? He thought his jaw clenching. "You know my feelings on that, Lightbringer."

"Feelings change. Especially when one has been caught and imprisoned by mortals. We expected better of you, sweet Morpheus."

"I have come because my helm of state was stolen from me. I believe one of your demons has it. I should like it back, along with the mortal  you've taken." His voice strained as he tried to sound calm. "Now."

"We've taken many mortals, which is it you're searching for?"

He strangled a low growl. "You know which one. The girl."

They tilted their head. "Her name, Dream... Say it."

"Penelope."

Their wide smile and a fake look of sympathy nearly sent him over the edge. "Oh, Dream, if only it were that easy. But, there are rules, you see, protocols that must be followed." They turned, moving back toward the fire. "Which will come first I wonder? Your helm or the girl?" He stiffened. "Such a pretty thing she was."

"Where is she?" His words were dark and angry.

Lucifer turned to him, still smiling. "Why, she's here… Resting."

He took a step up forward bringing Mazikeen out into the light. "What have you done to her?"

"Is she what you wish to discuss first then, Morpheus? Not your helm?"

"Yes." He answered , his voice laced with the anger he felt. "Now tell me what you've done with her."

"The girl is safe, for now." They said. "But, I'm afraid our laws demand a challenge be completed to buy her freedom."

"You dare abduct my lady from the waking world and then demand I play your games to win her freedom?" He seethed.

"Lady?" Lucifer questioned with a quiet chuckle. "Was this title officially bestowed?"

Damn them. "No." 

"Then we have broken no laws, and this is one of ours, Dream. The laws of Hell do not bend for you." Lucifer did not budge.

"She may not have the official title of my lady, but she is still soul bound to me. That law you have broken."

A soft hum. "Perhaps. If it's only her body you want, you may take it with you upon your departure, but her soul will remain with me unless it is won."

Disgust roiled in him hearing them speak of her as if she was nothing. He ground his teeth, doing all in his power not to let his face show his rage or his fear. "What challenge would you have me complete then?"

"An old one." They said, "One of our oldest."

Off to where the side room had been now stood a path leading to a metal door with the number one scratched into it. He stepped closer to it, the pit of fear sinking lower. "The Journey."

"Yes, one of our favorites, though it never lasts long. Most mortals don't survive past door two."

"How many?" How much pain would she have to endure, survive, to at last be back beside him?

"1825." Lucifer said, the joy clear in their tone. "Your Lady has quite a lot of tormented memories."

Five years, he thought. The years still missing in their history, the ones that it seemed were too painful for her to even think of. If they were anything like what he'd witnessed in their shared prison of the Burgess home this was going to be difficult indeed. "Tell me the rules then, Lightbringer and let us get on with it."

"It's quite simple, at the end of the doors lies your lady, all you have to do is walk forward. If you lose yourself to her memories you'll both be trapped within them indefinitely. If you reach the end and she has died you will be free to go, but she will remain." They chuckled softly. "On the off chance you both manage to survive, her freedom will have been won. Do you accept our terms?"

"I accept," he said, moving to approach the door.

"Good luck to you, Dream. And to, Penelope."

As he walked the landscape stretched into a well tended lawn and a long straight pathway leading up to the brick building he could only assume was the asylum. It was larger than the Burgess mansion and looked well kept, if he hadn't known better he'd think it a normal facility, but the memory of her manic laughter and disheveled appearance was forefront in his mind.

Beside him Matthew hopped along the path. "Are we really gonna do this? You don't think this is kind of... I don't know, an invasion of Penny's privacy?"

"It may be," Dream said roughly, unable to think of how she would feel about such painful things being revealed to them without her say so. "But it is the only way to free her."

A loud caw echoed. "What is this place anyway?"

For a moment Dream had forgotten the raven wasn't with them in the years in captivity. "An asylum for the insane. Our shared captor, Roderick Burgess, sent her here when it became clear she'd no intention of helping him."

"Okay… That sounds pretty bad, but what happened here that makes it Hell worthy?"

"I do not know."

"So we have absolutely no idea what we're walking into?" Matthew sighed. "Perfect."

The door stood before them and with one last look to the raven Dream said, "Prepare yourself, whatever lies beyond these doors we cannot let it consume us. These are memories, the past, and nothing we do will change them."

That would be more difficult that the dream king imagined. As the metal door swung open with an eerie creak the white walls and shining floors echoed with the wails and screams of the poor souls damned here. It wasn't unlike Hell, a Hell for the waking world. Beside him Matthew cursed under his breath. Dream felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of Penelope running frantically down the hall towards him. The other patients either cheered her on or chanted for her to fall. It took everything in him not to open his arms to her as she drew closer.

She looked so afraid, so desperate as she dodged the tall men in white for as long as she could before they grabbed her and threw her to the ground. The whole vision around them shook and the next door appeared beyond the sight of her thrashing and biting and screaming. Dream walked around them and went through the next door, relieved to find himself in a normal looking room, less so to find Penelope curled into the corner.

The door opened and a man in a long white coat entered, fixing his glasses and looking at the paper in front of him. "Ms. Barlow?" She only answered him with a glare. "My name is Doctor Elias Shenton. I'm here to help you get better."

"I'm not sick." She spat.

"That may be so, but your behavior as of late certainly doesn't reflect that." He looked down at his papers again. "Twenty escape attempts in the last two months, five stabbings, twelve broken bones and the list goes on."

Dream felt the echo of pride. The doctor stepped closer and knelt down with a smile. "I do not think you're sick, Ms. Barlow, but I do think you're special."

They walked through the next door as the room shook and horror filled him. Penelope was strapped to a table, a gag of some sort in her mouth, trashing and clawing in attempts to escape while the doctor stood at the top of her head, holding two rods that connected to an odd little machine. The doctor smiled at her and he felt the rage in him triple. "You'll want to bite down on that hard Ms. Barlow, this can be quite uncomfortable."

The instant the rods touched her temples her entire body seized and he could feel the current rush through him, stealing the breath from his lungs. The door appeared and Dream made his way to it instantly. He had to see more, had to know what they had done to her, all of it. Door after door the same mistreatment. Starvation, beatings, shock treatments, isolation, so many drugs he'd lost count. It wasn't until door fifty that things changed for the worse.

This time when he opened it the first thing he saw was blood, her blood. They were cutting her open, testing the limits of healing they'd discovered in their other cruel acts. Dream looked down at her face, unconscious but only barely. His gaze turned to the doctor who raved about how miraculous the disturbed operation was. He clenched his fists and took a step towards him when Matthew cawed, "We can't change anything, remember? This has already happened boss, we need to keep moving forward if we want to help her."

Matthew was right. He could not hurt this man. Not yet at least. He could not save her from this torment because she had already been through it. She had survived, he told himself, trying to keep the thought in his mind to help push him through. She was alive and waiting beyond these doors, he just had to keep going forward.

Now behind every door was one grotesque operation… Experiment after another, all to see what made Penelope different. Behind every door was the sounds of knives slicing her skin and her blood spilling to the floor. Door after door the sound of the doctor's voice speaking about Penelope as though she was nothing more than a pig brought before him for slaughter. Door after door Morpheus felt his anger knot and twist inside him. He watched every memory, committing all that took part in her torment to his own. If any of them still lived they would pay, he would see to it personally.

Door three hundred and seventy four was when things descended further. The drugs had now stopped working, so in the middle of every procedure Penelope awoke and felt every second. This time they used a hand drill, held by a shaky intern, to dig into her back. This time when she woke her scream was one he'd only heard before here in Hell itself. Still they pressed on. He tried not to feel the deep ache that filled him at the sight of her losing her will to fight, to live door after door.

The sight before him, like all the others, was one of blood and pain and torment. Is this what lay behind all the remaining doors? he wondered looking down at the vision, the memory, of her strapped to the table screaming. With a deep sigh he reminded himself of his purpose and turned towards the door. Her hand shot out and grabbed his, her grip was tight, desperate. It felt so real that for a moment he'd forgotten it wasn't. "Please..." His heart broke at the sound. "Please kill me..." With tears in his eyes he pulled his hand free, moving for the next door as her wails echoed behind him. She is alive and waiting for us. He had to keep repeating it to himself to make his legs move forward, to not turn and go to vision of her.

The shaking of the memories had grown constant and so strong he could scarcely walk. Penelope was holding on, but the pain was too strong for even her to ignore. So he continued, pushing forward through the blood and the screams until one memory made him stop. She was in her cell, beating her head against the wall, throwing all her body weight into every motion until blood began to paint the space behind her. She continued, a determined look in her eyes that Dream feared. He wanted to tell her to stop, wanted to console her, but knew he couldn't. The white coats stopped her, but he knew this would not be the only time he'd have to watch her attempt to take her life. Beside him Matthew whispered a quiet, "Oh god."

Door five hundred and one. This memory he knew would plague him for the rest of his life. The doctor and his staff had left the room, Penelope lay, tube shoved down her throat and head bound in place, her ribs practically exposed as they poked and prodded at her lungs. Above them a hazy vision of the night sky swirled. When she broke her hand free of the restraints and grabbed the small blade Morpheus almost looked away, he almost had to. When she dug the blade into her own arm his eyes closed tightly, tears escaping down his cheeks. The scar on her arm that she'd tried to hide from him in Constantines' office had been carved by her own hand. The shame, the fear, he'd felt then made sense now.

She had spent all those years away enduring a fate far worse than he could have ever imagined, a fate that made Rodericks barbaric beatings seem like a blessing… A fate worse than death. Every door only added to the well of anger he'd built over the last eighty years, so much so that every part of him longed for the moment his power was restored and he could hunt down every last one of these monsters. He would show them what fear was, what pain was. Every scar they gave her, or forced her to give herself they would pay for.

Finally nearing the end, door one thousand eight hundred and ten revealed her father, old and worn with leathery skin and a receding hair. He was exactly how Dream pictured him, a miserable and hollow shell of a man that used fear and threats to intimidate his way to power. Not unlike Roderick. He watched him spit threats down at Penelope, her arms bound to her sides and ankles shackled to the bedpost. He watched something pass on her face, a fleeting rage, before she sat up and tore his throat open with her teeth. For the first time in ages he saw that fire return to her eyes, and while the sight of her covered in blood made the guilt and pain in him twist further, he was proud. Even after all the horror and pain she still held that fire, it was a feat not many could claim.

At last the final door. It began the same as almost the others, blood and screams and insane ramblings, but this one ended with Paul. As he watched the memory, listened to her as she fought and pleaded with Paul to let her free the sandman, him. "I tried to bargain with them for you too." He had much to make up for, much to repay and so as Morpheus turned to the last unnumbered door he made a silent promise to himself and to her. Never again will she be alone. Never again would she have to plead to anyone for anything.

The visions faded away as he opened the door to a decrepit garden covered in frost. There in the center, naked on an altar with gnarled vines and twisted roots wrapping around her lay Penelope, pale, bruised and covered in dead leaves and ash. As he drew closer the vines and roots unwound and slithered away from him. He looked down at her, fear filling him. Had he been too late? With gentle hands he lifted her head, cradling her face. Her lips were practically blue and her skin felt ice cold, even under his touch. "Penelope."

A small breath filled her lungs as her eyes opened ever so slightly. "Dream…" Her lips curled into a weak smile as her body trembled. "I knew you'd come."

He smiled as he pulled away and shed his coat, wrapping her in it tenderly. "For you, nothing could keep me away."

Lifting her into his arms he let out a relieved sigh at the feel of her curling into him. She was alive. She was back where she belonged and he'd be damned if he ever let her go again.

***

The pain of the memories faded with each step Dream took with me curled into his arms. He was warm, which was weird for him, but I pressed further into it anyway, my forehead practically glued into the side of his neck. Eventually the ground shifted from ash to black stone and heat wrapped around us, burning against my skin.

"I'm impressed," Lucifer's voice sent a shiver down my spine and Dreams' arms tightened around me. "No ordinary mortal would have survived such horrors. She is truly special, your lady."

"I need to attend to her, then I shall have words with the demons that left these marks upon her skin, as your laws say is my right." His voice was raw power. "And then, Lightbringer, we will discuss the return of my helm."

"But of course, Dream. My side room is open to you and the needs of your lady." Though the words were kind, the tone of their voice was angry and tense. Their plan hadn't played out and Lucifer was pissed.

Once in the next room Dream addressed Matthew, who'd been silently following us the whole way back. "Go wait. Keep them out until we return."

"You want me to keep the devil out of a room in their own palace," he questioned. I assumed the glare Morpheus gave him was what changed his tune as he followed with, "I, uh, I'll do my best."

"Can you stand?" He asked me, throat vibrating against my head.

I nodded, pulling away and letting him set my feet on the warm floor. My legs shook a little, but Morpheus kept me from falling. He moved only slightly when he was certain I was steady, his eyes roaming over me as I clutched his coat in my fingers. A fleeting feeling of contentment and longing filled me before being replaced by the storm of rage that filled him, but before I could ask he moved to a table where the blood stained and torn up remains of my dress, necklace and shoes sat.

"May I?" He asked, gesturing to the clothes, his voice almost a whisper. 

I nodded again, unable to form the words, unable to comprehend that Dream of the Endless wanted to help with such a lowly task. He pulled me closer to the table and moved to stand behind me, a gesture meant to help soothe my nerves no doubt. He slid his coat off my shoulders with a gentleness I was still so foreign to. The air around us stung, the warmth of the fires still trying to heat my chilled skin. I curled my arms over my chest, naked and exposed and vulnerable in front of him. 

If this had been different I would have made a joke, something to try and unwind the tight knot of rage that had settled in my stomach, his rage. He'd grabbed what remained of my tattered dress and held it behind me for a moment, when it came back into view it was changed, a simple gown of pale blue silk. I wanted to ask how, but quickly forgot the question as he pressed a kiss, soft and warm, to the long jagged scar along my shoulder. That kiss solidified the fear I'd been trying not to let consume me. He'd seen it. He'd seen all the memories that had plagued me on that altar.

I swallowed a hard lump as he helped ease the dress over my head and helped pull my arms through the thin sleeves. He kept my right arm in his hand and lifted it so he could press a long kiss to the scar from over my shoulder. A shuddering breath left me. Did he pity me now? Did seeing the insanity I'd fallen into make him think less of me? Were the attempts I made to end my life enough for him to hate me?

He moved to stand in front of me, sliding my necklace over my head and pressing another kiss to the scars Roderick had left on my neck and collarbone before he sank to his knees. One of his hands, now beginning to feel cold against my warming skin, gently lifted the hem of the dress up and cupping the back of my leg to examine the long scratches that marred the skin. He hummed, a noise that sounded like a strangled growl as he pressed his lips to my thigh, earning a sharp gasp I hadn't been able to contain. "I shall see to it that this offense is answered."

With a gentle wave of his hands I felt a soft thread wind around my calf, wrapping the cuts gently. He grabbed my shoes off the table and slid them onto my feet, using whatever magic he had been to turn them into more comfortable flats. This was too much. It had to be out of some sense of pity or an attempt to ease the blow of his coming disgust… something other than what was obvious. As he lowered my dress and began rising to his feet I squeezed my eyes shut, a few soft tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I am sorry you were forced to relive the horrors of that place," He whispered in a pained tone, thinking my tears were from the memories.

"That's not..." I sighed. "I've relieved it all before. That's… It's not what I'm afraid of."

"Then what is?"

I closed my eyes tighter. "I... I don't want it to have changed how you see me."

"Penelope." Cool fingers lifted my chin. My eyes stayed shut, terrified of what I'd see when they opened. Pity? Disgust? Disappointment? "Penelope, look at me." Not a whisper, but a gentle command.

With a deep breath I followed his instructions and opened my wet eyes, slowly meeting his. There was no pity, no disgust, only him. He looked sad, but he felt angry, more angry than I'd ever felt before. It wasn't aimed at me, but at what they had done to me. My lip quivered at the realization and as he wiped the tears from my eyes I whispered, "I'm sorry."

"You are beautiful. All of you." He said it so easily, said it like it was a fact everyone knew. "Nothing would ever change how I see you."

Our faces drifted closer until we shared the same breath. His blue eyes glistened in the dull firelight, looking at me with want. His hands dug into my hips as I pushed into him more, tilting my head back further. More. More. More. My body sang. Wings beating echoed from the doorway as Matthew returned. "Hey boss, they're getting kind of, oh! OH! Uh, sorry, I'll just... umm… See myself out…"

Morpheus' jaw clenched. Frustration and disappointment filled us both, pushing and pulling between us like ocean waves, the echoes of want flowing with them. I lowered myself back onto the flats of my feet and pressed a soft kiss to his throat. His hands squeezed my hips tighter before they released me entirely. "Thank you for coming for me."

His lips returned the gesture to my forehead, his cold breath fanning down my face as he answered, "Always."

"Well," I cleared my throat, "We shouldn't keep the devil waiting."

He chuckled. "I suppose not."

He offered me his arm and led me back into the main room where Lucifer and their silver armored friend stood with The demon Lucifer had called, Sagathes and another demon kneeling before them. A forced smile spread on their lips. "The demons responsible for the harm done to your lady, Dream."

"Their names?" he said from my side.

"The Sagathes," Lucifer gestured to the demon I'd seen in the elevator. "And Vornen." Their hand moved to the other demon, the one I assumed had thrown me into the table. "In accordance with our laws you may choose their punishment."

He thought for a moment before saying in a lethally calm voice, "I choose The Pits."

Lucifer nearly sneered. "Very well, a fight to the death it is."

After Lucifer turned and announced the display to whatever crowd was at the bottom of the balcony, cheers erupted through the palace and the two demons evaporated into smoke. They turned back to Morpheus and shrugged a shoulder. "Satisfied?"

"At present. Now, onto the matter of my helm."

"Which demon has your helm? Name it and we shall bring it here."

"I confess I do not know the name." He moved closer to the balcony, beside Lucifer, and gave my arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Your punishment has summoned all of them." The sight from the balcony was as far as the eye could see filled with demons and large pits of flame. In the center of the cheering crowd the Sagathes and Vornen pitted against each other, fighting with a cruel brutality that I'd never seen before, nor did I want to see again. "There, now, Dream you may inquire. Which demon has your helmet? Shall we summon them one at a time or…"

"That won't be necessary." Dream gave Lucifer a look and turned back to the main room, leading me toward the stairs where Matthew waited.

"It surprises us how easily you would give up, Dream. We know how you relied upon your tools. But, tools are the subtlest of traps. We come to rely upon them, and in their absence we become vulnerable, weak, defenseless."

"Not entirely." He let go of my arm with a quiet request for me to wait beside Matthew as he handled his remaining business. Turning to Lucifer he pulled the pouch from his coat and knelt, dumping some of it into the stone floor. "I have recovered my sand. It brought me to Hell. Now it brings that which is mine in Hell to me."

The sand began to swirl around him, glittering in the firelight as it moved and swirled a few steps away. A figure appeared in the center, holding what I assumed was the helm he was here to retrieve. The demon turned, clutching the helmet tightly as Dream stood back up, glaring at him with dark eyes. "Tell me your name, demon."

Glancing at Lucifer he replied, "Do I have to tell him?"

"That is Choronzon. A Duke of Hell." Lucifer said, sounding less than pleased at this development.

"Choronzon," Dream said. "The helm is mine. You must return it to me."

"No. It's mine now. I traded it from a mortal for a paltry thing. It was a fair trade. I've broken no laws and if the Dream King wants his helm back, he will have to fight me for it."

My heart hammered in my chest. Surely Dream wouldn't agree to fight a demon in Hell. Surely there was some other way to- "Very well." God damn it. "I challenge you, Choronzon."

The demon chuckled, stepping closer to Dream. "You know the rules, Dream Lord."

"If I win you will return my helmet."

"And if you lose, you'll serve as my slave in Hell for eternity."

"I accept the terms." Matthew cawed from beside me, equally as not into this plan.

Lucifer looked too happy as they said, "And whom shall you choose to represent you in the battle?"

This is a trap. "I shall represent myself."

A concealed smile. "Choronzon, whom will you choose to represent you?" 

"Hmm…" The Demon stepped closer. "I choose you, sire."

Lucifer smiled and in the blink of an eye was dressed in shining black leather armor as they stepped behind Dream, who smirked at their clever plan playing out. "Apologies Dream, but the laws of Hell demand that I become his champion. But if you would not fight me."

"I have accepted the terms." When he turned to Lucifer he was also dressed in leather armor. "Let the challenge begin."

Lucifer first proclaimed the winner of the Pit fights as Vornen, who’d joined us in the room, standing beside the woman I learned was named Mazikeen, then Choronzon took over and began the announcement of the current fight. As Dream joined Lucifer and Choronzon on the balcony to announce the challenge Matthew tutted beside me. "So, this is like the worst idea ever right?"

"Oh absolutely," I answered, my eyes glued to Dreams leather clad back. Damn him and that leather, tight in all the right places. His head tilted slightly, reminding me that he could in fact hear my thoughts. Or some of them… The dirty ones it would seem. I felt the heat rise to my face. 

Matthew hopped up onto my shoulder. "Sorry about going through your memories, by the way, you didn't deserve that… Or what those people did to you."

I smiled, sadly.. "Thank you, Matthew. For all of your help."

"Oh, and, uh, sorry about walking in on the, uh… thing going on in the side room."

If my blush hadn't been noticeable before, it was now. "It… It's okay. You didn't…" my voice trailed off. Didn't interrupt anything? But he had… we were going to kiss, or at least I was going to kiss him. I hadn't even thought of asking if he wanted to kiss me first. God I'm an idiot. Of course he didn't want to kiss me we're in HELL trying to get his things back! I hardly noticed Dream walking towards us until he had grabbed hold of my arm and gently pulled me aside.

"Matthew, I need you to return to the Dreaming with Penelope."

"What? No!" The bird said before I could.

"It is the only reason I allowed you to come here."

"So I could leave you?" 

"If I should not be allowed to leave this place I would not have Lucienne left alone with no word as to my fate, not again." He looked back up to me. "The sand will take you both back."

"I'm not leaving you." I said firmly.

He sighed. "We do not have time to argue."

"There is no argument." I took his face in my hands. "I will not leave you. Not again. So, if you want me out of Hell you're going to have to walk out with me."

"Morpheus," Lucifer's false sweet voice said from beside us. "Am I interrupting a preliminary bout of some kind?"

Matthew hopped between us and bowed. "Just a ringside pep talk, Your Majesty. We came here for the helm and we're not leaving without it."

"We shall see." They smiled, turning to stand in the center of the room.

Matthew flew up to one of the pillars as I let go of Dreams face. He looked at me for a moment before saying, as casually as he could. "This may... perhaps be a good time for a token of luck. A kiss perhaps."

Clever, I thought as I smoothed my hands over his leather clad chest until they came to shoulders. I internally groaned. You have no right looking this good in leather, my lord. I thought, knowing he'd hear. His eyes flared as the words reached him. I lifted myself up using his shoulders as leverage to press a kiss to his cheek beside his lips. Once my feet were back on the ground I smiled up at him. "Win and I'll give you a real kiss, Dream Lord."

He smirked, bowing his head. "As my lady commands."

I did my best to ignore the way his words made my stomach flip as he walked up the stairs and took his place in front of Lucifer. Matthew flew down to my shoulder as I took my place out of the way. “You think he’s got a shot?”

“Of course he does,” I replied. “If not, you might want to get used to the scenery.”

Dream looked over at us for a moment, shoulders tense and eyes swimming with stormy night. I smiled, a simple thing to try and reassure him that no matter what happened Matthew and I would be beside him. He was going to win. He had to, or we were all stuck here.

“As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move.” Lucifer had done a poor job at hiding their glee ever since Dream had accepted the challenge. 

“Very well,” he replied, “Make your move.”

“I am… a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler.” A vision of the great wolf growling entered my mind. It was odd, as was the sensation that washed over me, but from what I gathered part of whatever this game was.

“I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.” A horse and its rider entered the vision, the rider a hunter, drawing his bow he shot down at the wolf. Lucifer groaned in pain, lurching forward holding their abdomen with their hands. I saw a flash of red on their palm before they stood up straight and continued.

“I am a serpent. Horse-biting, poison-toothed.” A snake struck out of the darkness, teeth digging into the leg of the hunter's horse. Dreams' head twisted to the side revealing dark veins consuming his neck and face, pooling his eye with red. The mark burned on my arm, drawing out a startled breath from my lungs. Dream’s eyes fixed on me for a moment before he spoke.

“I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping.” The hawke swooped down and grabbed the snake, twisting its talons into the scaled creature. Lucifer’s head whipped down, as if they’d just been struck, their hand cupping their cheek.

“I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying.” Dream was on his knees, arms holding onto himself as his face lifted revealing black splotches of decaying flesh taking form. The mark burned more, and I grit my teeth to keep from screaming. His eyes met mine again, dark and desperate.

“I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing.” All around were fields of green and bright sun filled skies. Lucifer looked around for a moment as the birds chirped and life hummed in the air.

“I am a nova. All-exploding, planet-cremating.” The sky filled with a bright ball of searing light. Fire tore through the green field, burning everything away until nothing but ash remained. Dream lay on the ground, skin burnt and breath weak. I gripped onto my arm tight, nails digging into my skin, trying to lessen or dull the pain any way I could. He needed to focus on winning, not on worrying about me.

“I am a universe. All things encompassing, all life embracing.” The beautiful array of bright stars and cosmic clouds filled the vision.

“I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgment. The dark at the end of everything.” Darkness quickly overtook the stars and clouds until there was nothing but darkness. Something I’d grown tired of seeing. Dream, still on the floor, turned deathly pale, his cheeks began to hollow as he gasped trying to find breath. “What will you be then, Dream Lord?”

Black veins began to spread on my arm, the mark burning so hot now I could hardly breathe. I leaned back against the pillar, trying to keep myself on my feet as Dream tried to push himself up off the ground. “I…”

Matthew flew from my shoulder, hopping toward him. “Boss… Hey boss!”

“Still with us Dream?” Lucifer purred.

“He is, and it’s his move, Your Majesty.” 

Lucifer looked down at him. “There are no more moves. What can survive the anti-life?”

Matthew glanced over at me before turning to Dream. “Hey, boss. Listen to me…" The voice of the raven dipped so low I couldn't hear it.

Dream glanced up at Lucifer and then his eyes met mine. Through the pain, through the spinning of the room I smiled at him. Come on, Sandy. Not an inch, remember? I pushed the thought to him as hard as I could, only hoping that somehow it was one he heard. “I… Am…” He slowly began rising from the floor as Matthew cawed beside him. “Hope.”

The room flooded with bright light as Dream rose to his feet, his eyes meeting Lucifers'. Their voice was laced with disbelief, “Hope.”

“Well, Lightbringer? It’s your move. What is it that kills hope?” The pain gripping me vanished along with the light. I caught my breath for a few seconds before ignoring any possible formalities and going to Dreams' side. I put one hand on his arm and the other on the side of his face, examining him for any injuries as he lifted my marked wrist to his lips. “Are you alright?”

I smiled, trying to stifle the relieved laugh that built up in my chest. “You just dueled the devil, I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to ask you that.”

Lucifer had twisted around, voice no longer light and pleasant but dark and growling. “Choronzon, give him his helm.”

The demon clutched it tighter. “No. I won’t. It’s mine. Please.”

Vornen and Mazikeen both moved, predators stalking their prey. Mazikeen grabbed the helm while Vornen threw Choronzon off the balcony and into the cheering crowd below. Mazikeen handed the helm to Vornen, who turned and presented it to Dream. “Your winnings, Dream Lord.”

Dream bowed his head slightly, but did not thank the demon, instead he said in a cold voice. “If you should ever seek out that which is mine again nothing shall stand in my way of retribution, do you understand.”

“Yes, Dream Lord.” the demon said, casting his eyes down.

Helm tucked under one arm and his other curled keeping me safely behind him, Dream turned to Lucifer. “Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honorable, indeed. I will not forget this.”

“Honorable?” Lucifer's face twisted into a sneer. “You joke, surely. Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all… What power have dreams in Hell?”

“You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell… Tell me Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those imprisoned here were not able to dream of Heaven.”

Lucifer's lips twitched. “One day, Morpheus… We shall destroy you and everything you hold dear.”

Dream bowed slightly, eyes never leaving theirs. “Until that day, Lightbringer.”

He placed a hand on my back and began leading me towards the stairs when Lucifer suddenly called out, “Penelope.” My jaw clenched and every inch of me crawled at the sound of my name from their mouth. “One last thing, before you leave us. A gift.”

I didn’t turn, but Morpheus’ eyes darkened slightly before he looked down at me. I was about to ask what was wrong, and then a voice I hadn’t heard since the night of Roderick Burgess’ party echoed off the stone. “Pen… Penelope.”

I turned slowly, a quiet sob catching in my throat at the sight of my mother knelt in chains before the devil, eyes looking at me filled with guilt and desperation. “Is this real?” I whispered to Dream.

“Yes.”

“Please, Penelope,” My mother begged. “Please.”

I looked at Lucifer. “What is the purpose of this?”

They smiled. “Your mother is here because she, while not directly, sent you on the path of torment you've endured. She wronged you, betrayed you, denied you the life you wanted. Only you have the power to free her.”

“Free her?” I asked. "How would I free her?"

“Your forgiveness,” Lucifer clarified, eyes looking past me to Dream, who’d stiffened beside me.

I looked at her, small and shaking bound in chains, not unlike I’d been for those eight long years of being a captive. Ascending back up the stairs until I stood in front of her, I asked. “Did you know?”

She sniffled. “I… I…”

“Did you know what they were doing to me?” I asked again, louder. “Did you know where they sent me after they were done?”

She looked down at the floor. “Yes.”

I clenched my jaw and blinked away tears, drawing in a deep, hot breath. She’d done nothing to directly hurt me, but just like Alex, her inaction added to the suffering I’d endured. She should rot here. Part of me thought. But, as I listened to the rowdy cheering crowd of demons and watched Lucifer smile… No. I knelt down in front of her, lifting her face with a soft hand. “I want you to know, in whatever afterlife awaits you, that you are no longer my family. You are nothing to me. I forgive you."

Rising to my feet I watched the chains that bound her turn to dust for a moment before I turned, putting her begging and pleading at me to hear her out… to let her explain herself, behind as I walked back to Morpheus’ side and took his arm once again, leaving the palace of Hell together. All while we walked I could feel him watching me, could feel the question lingering in him. “You’re wondering why I forgave her.”

“Yes,” He admitted softly. “She contributed to your pain and she deserved to suffer for it.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But her suffering wouldn’t have brought me peace. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Ultimately by giving her my forgiveness I’ve set not only her free, but myself.”

“Yourself?” he pressed curiously.

I shrugged. “For so long I held onto that endless and suffocating anger towards her. But anger is a consuming thing, Dream, the longer you hold it the more it takes from you.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before we came to a stop. "I can send you home now."

"I'm coming with you," I stated.

"Penelope…"

"The last time we parted ways I ended up getting dragged to hell."

"That will not happen again. You are going home, where I know you'll be safe while I recover my ruby." His stone-like features told me this wasn't a fight I was going to win. "Please."

I sighed. "Fine, but… Please be careful. No more duels with devils."

He smiled. "My ruby is the last of my tools I must recover, and it should be the most simple."

"Will you come find me when you're done?" I asked, almost embarrassed at how desperate it sounded.

A cold hand stroked my cheek. "I will. I promise."

He grabbed his pouch and poured the sand into his palm. With one blow it swirled around me, faster and faster until Dream and Hell were no longer visible. When the sand fell away I was standing in the middle of a road. What the fuck? I looked around, trying to find anything familiar, but I didn't know this place. Why would the sand send me here?

I quickly made my way towards the little diner I'd popped up by, maybe someone inside would be able to help me figure out where I was. The little bell rang and the waitress, a lovely woman with black hair and a green uniform, hollered out, "Be with you in a minute hon, just grab a seat!"

She sounded American, and that certainly didn't bode well. I hadn't been back to America for a long time, not since the cult had followed me here. The little diner was quaint, kind of exactly what you pictured when you heard the word diner. The checkered floors were worn from years of foot traffic, the green accents and walls were adorned with old American posters and random décor, the lights were all old and every leather seat and booth was scuffed and scratched. It felt oddly homey.

I moved to the counter, hoping that if I stayed close enough to the door I'd be easier for her to remember. She ran around between tables, filled cups of coffee and ran back to the kitchen a few times before she huffed and settled in front of me. "Hi! What can I help you with?"

"Um, hi, I think I'm a little l-"

"Lost?" She finished my thought and then smiled. "Don't you worry. We get a lot of lost out of towers around here, let me go grab you a map sweetie."

The bell rang again and a hum of power rolled over me. I knew that feeling. Turning toward the door I looked at the man standing there, clothed in striped pajamas and slippers and carrying a dimly glowing ruby in his hand. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

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@22carolina08

@just-annie-things

@asexualaromosafezone

@sirrandyfiddlesticks

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@fate-huntress

@sdawn03

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@literal-cat

@omancthad

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[clickbait-official]

Hi, I’m obsessed with your Morpheus content and I was wondering if you could do something angsty where they argue? If you’re comfortable with it ❤️

omg anon?? i love you <3 je t’aime

also what POV do you guys like best? second person? First? pls tell me i’m never sure which one to go with

masterlist

~~~

A strange book caught my eye as I meandered through the library. I grabbed at the reddish-orange cover, pulling it into my hands. I flip to the first page.

“Try as he might, the god cannot love the mortal in his entirety. He burns far too bright, too endlessly - and no mortal can withstand that intensity. So the god becomes so dreadfully alone - as there is no one who can return his love in the way he needs.”

I remembered then that I was meant to meet with Morpheus in Fiddler’s Green. He had asked me - quite formally, might I add - to meet him there so that we might talk, as friends do.

I won’t tell you how my heart leapt. I’m sure you already know it.

I rushed over quickly, hoping I wasn’t late. The grassy path led me to my favorite spot in all of the Dreaming - the pond.

Waterfalls cascaded down, splashing delightfully with the water below. Birds and butterflies and bees flew and fluttered, buzzed and sang.

It felt like home, almost.

And just the thought of this being home made my heart sing. Though, not as much as the prospect of him wanting to talk to me did.

But as I looked around, peering through the shades of green and brown, I saw no Morpheus.

Maybe I was early?

I’ve got all the time in the world. Might as well wait for him.

I sit down in shade, just watching the world go by. The grass below me was soft, tickling my legs not unlike how it would in the real world. A white tulip sprang up from the ground, alerting me that Fiddler’s Green himself as coming to me.

And there he was, walking from the woods. He dipped his head in greeting as he sat beside me.

“Hello, dreamer,” he said, tone like the gentle waterfall near us. “What brings you to my meadow today?”

“Hello Fiddler's Green,” I said, a small grin appearing on my lips. “It’s nice to see you. Dream asked me here today. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”

His brow furrowed in concentration.

“No,” he said with an unsure tone. “No, he never mentioned anything like that today. Perhaps he forgot to tell me?”

It was an easy excuse. Both of us knew that Morpheus never forgot these sorts of things: he always remembered everything, as any Endless would. So it was rather strange to hear Fiddler's Green talk about him in such a manner. It was …strange.

"The god loves so fiercely, burns so brightly. And like the sands of time, he will fall in love over and over.

He doesn't like to think about it. So instead, he chooses to forget."

Birds still chirped and bees still buzzed. Butterflies flew and waterfalls - well, they fell. The world continued on even though my heart was racing. 

“He has been rather busy recently,” said the man beside me. “Maybe it’s just the busyness of it all.” We simmer in silence for a moment before-

"No matter,” he says, cheering up. His demeanor instantly shifts. “We can have plenty of fun together - even without Dream.”

Despite his offer, I respectfully declined. I wanted to know what Morpheus was doing and why he stood me up. 

He nodded his agreement but warned me: "Be careful: My lord tends to get antagonistic when stressed."

I said my goodbyes to him and walked back the way I came.  The view was just as beautiful, just as sublime. It felt like home in a sense.

And as I walked my way back to the castle, I pondered my relation to the Dreaming and all who inhabit it. I adored Lucienne and Fiddler's Green and Mervyn and especially Matthew. I especially liked his little quips.

Before I knew it I was already inside, right in front of the throne. He flipped through pages of a book, before sighing and setting it aside. There were books and pages and articles everywhere. Perhaps he was looking for something?

"The loneliness has birthed violence in his heart. It has made him cold, colder than the loneliness he knows now as a friend. It is the curse of becoming a god."

"Why do you seek to interrupt my work?" His voice seemed to echo and bounce off the walls of the castle.

Stars seemed to reflect from his eyes, and he was beautiful. I almost didn't hear his question.

"Oh! Um, you said that you'd go with me to Fiddler's Green today, and I was wondering...if you'd like to go now?" My voice betrayed my anxiety asking him that question. Suddenly he seemed so intimidating, so terrifying.

It was easy to see why he was King of Nightmares, too.

He leveled me with a flat stare. His face pinched, curling into a snarl. "Why would I make an effort for you?"

The words sent me reeling.

I took an unsteady step back unconsciously, swallowing hard.

"Oh...Oh. Ok, I'll go!" I squeak, turning around, shakingly making my way out of the room.

"You better." He muttered, turning back to his work.

He never heard my teardrops hit the floor.

"Love is something premeditated. It is something beautiful and something horrific. Love is a home.

The god does not know what home feels like. Now, perhaps he never will."

~~~

Matthew caws, and makes his landing right before the Endless.

"Hey, boss! Aren't you supposed to be with the dreamer?"

A simple question, but one that makes the King of Dreams pause.

"...What are you referring to?"

The raven caws again, shifting from foot to foot. "Yeah, they came in the other night practically glowing. Said you'd invited them to Fiddler's Green. Almost looked like love, if you ask me."

Matthew looks up, noticing how his lord has gone deathly still.

"...love?" Morpheus looks lost in thought, which is not a sight Matthew is used to.

"Yeah, but they were running out of here crying 'fore waking up. Couldn't you have let 'em down easy?"

Dream of the Endless stands up abruptly, towering over his raven. He strides towards the door, ignoring Matthew's caws to stop.

Could someone as perfect as you really love him? Did he ruin it all? He stops, peering around. The palace is silent - per Morpheus's request.

And his dreamer is nowhere in the Dreaming.

Oh. Oh no.

What have I done?

~~~

requests and asks are open!

(request here)

[bowieandqueen11]

Trick or Treating With Dream Would Include...

Request: Hi Dont know if your Halloween askbox is still open but is it possible for a trick or treat hcs for baby sweety honey morphy please ? -Sarah

You managed to get the last slot aha but I hope you enjoy these my love!

If you enjoy, please help me out by leaving a comment!

(I do not own the Sandman or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @beaulesbian).

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

My BOII!!!! IT’S BEEN FAR TOO LONG you droopy ass feral lounging cat man just dumped out of the trash can, with your sad sniffing onions constantly eyes and mouth like you’re judging the runway, your so adorable and pathetic I just want to wrap you up in a blanket and send you spinning round the tumble dryer cause honestly your hair looks like it already does that so iconic of you king.

At first when you asked Dream to go trick or treating with you, it was met with a pair of furrowed eyebrows and a resounding ‘no’ that reverberated through the marble rafters of the throne room. With one wide eye glancing at you with immense scepticism, he just turned back to flipping through the latest census and pretended to ignore the wide pout spreading across your face. I mean... it is Dream, though, and it is you: his one weakness, so the whole mopey important scrungly king of dreams act didn’t last very long. After about two minutes of you just standing on the top step, arms crossed and giving him your head tilted disapproving stare, he became so disgruntled that he started fidgeting in his seat; yet he still didn’t look up, nose so buried in the pages there was no possibly he could read any of Lucienne’s words. After a few more minutes, he began to do that lowly, irritated moan that comes grumbling up from his chest, yet you still didn’t give in. Eventually, once the stained glass had stopped shaking with the intensity of his moans, he thumped the book with a tepid thop by his feet and finally looked up at you with disapproving petulance pursing his lips.

You just tap your foot against the edge of his coat, catching it under your toes so he couldn’t skulk off anywhere as soon as you blinked. For a further five minutes, the two of you had a staring match as Dream’s eyes started to glow a lustrous flit of bursting nebulas and stardust streaked irises that made even Lucienne just nod her head and back out of the room again. You knew he wasn’t angry, though; his eyes only glowed like this in your presence, well... because of your presence. In fact, the corners of his lips curling up made you only too aware of the enjoyment he was getting out of this, until he finally caved in and held out his arms for you. More than happy to oblige, you ran gleaming into his arms. After a tight squeeze around his torso, and a thank you whispered against the fringes of his hair, you run off to find Matthew to help sort costumes out.

For a moment, the shock of you coming running back in shakes away all the merriment he felt in his heart before. For the first time in centuries, he nearly laughed at your black shirt, long black coat and the way you’ve mussed up your hair to look ‘as raggedy and like something a feral cat would drag in sideways through the door’, as you so eloquently put it. He can’t help the smile that pulls at the tired, unused muscles on his face when you link arms with him and pull him out towards the front gates of the realm, Lucienne hiding a snicker into her handkerchief as the two of you saunter past. He’s too busy chuckling down at the eyeliner around your waterlines to notice though; too preoccupied, as you waver through the nestling sands, in cupping your cheeks and ever so gently guiding his thumbs to wipe away a smudge by the crease of your eyelid.

He does turn into ‘angry racoon hissing at everyone from a bush’ mode for a minute when you sneak out the cat ears you borrowed from Desire and pop them onto his head, though. Any chance of getting him to wear a different outfit, even for one night, completely disappears as he whips them off and throws them off into the deserted plains.

He soon comes back to himself though, and eventually after a lot of coaxing from your end and stroking up and down his linked arm, finds himself smiling again when you land on the streets of the waking world. Even though you’re dressed as him, he still untangles his arm from yours and in turn wraps it around your waist, tucking you into the side of his coat like a nestling hedgehog. He’s still Dream, and he’s still protective of the one thing in all the realms and all the galaxies his heart has always yearned for, cried for, and so he’s still careful. He knows you’re in no real danger though, even with all these monsters and witches and even little superhero Sandman’s running screaming and jostling down the crooked lantern and strikingly incandescent jack-o-lantern lit streets past you. He finds it fascinating to walk along the waking realm around this time of year: in fact, so many children have had dreams of trick or treating recently, that it feels like second nature to him now... just with a lot less werewolves, zombies and nightmare induced vampires running around the towns.

He does eventually get bored of just going from door to door though, especially as he never even eats the candy the two of you collect anyway - but he’ll suffer through it, if only for you and you alone. After a few blocks of indulging you, he eventually caves to your pleas and figures you’ll be safe, as long as he doesn’t stray too far away. He leans against the patio of the house, against some wonky hale bale with a chattering skeleton sitting similarly on top of it. He looks an akin sight, you almost snort into your hand at how well he blends into the Halloween decorations; the only difference being that the skeleton danced as people passed it, and Dream just glared instead, swishing his coat out of the way so it isn’t dirtied by the straw. When you’re finally done though, it’s like a switch flickers and turns on the bulb inside of his head as he catches sight of you running up the steps and back out to him. When he sees you, it’s like he’s been locked away inside a stagnant, isolated, lonely box and suddenly you’re the key letting in the sunlight. His whole face seems to flush with the weight of it, his whole body shivering with the anticipation of needing it, until the only thing he can do to keep himself whole is to cave over and cup your cheeks with a love-struck grin. He kisses the top of your head, as if slotting the missing piece of himself back where it belongs, before allowing you to grab his arm again and drag him on through the darkness.

At one point, you tried to sneak back round the corner of a bungalow to try and scare Dream by jumping on his back. The only problem is this mf’s reflexes are so fast that he ends up catching your thighs and begrudgingly gives you a piggy back ride down the boulevard and onto the next row of houses. The kisses you reach round and press against his flushed forehead after you point out the row of smoking pumpkins seem like a fair payment to him, though, and one he will gladly accept without grievance.

Sometimes he’ll be so distracted by trying to join in and feel your exuberance and exhilaration, though, that catching people running past him with creepy masks from the corner of his eyes can put him on edge. He’s still so wary, after the Corinthians escape, that somehow he misread the ledger and he’s voluntarily sauntered out into the perfect night for a nightmare to find the two of you; the thought that he’s willingly led you out straight into the arrow sharp path of danger makes him seethe down to the convulsing pit of his stomach. You have to drag his hand away from his face and yank him away from accidentally blowing sand into some poor random person’s eyes and making them fall asleep in the middle of the pavement.

Anytime he sees someone dressed up as a grim reaper, he kind of bristles up like a prodded cat, mainly because he’s just exasperated on behalf of his sister lmao. 

Since he doesn’t eat your fine little collection of sweets you’ve managed to gather during the night, he gives away his half to the person with the best Sandman outfit he can find; he dumps everything out, pouring through his fingers like clumpy sand, bless his heart, and he looks pleased and content all the while at the way their face lights up. It just feels nice, for once, to have a positive impact on a realm that isn’t just his own. You do try and make him taste at least one, though, just for the experience, so you sneak out a caramel bar into your coat pocket before you tuck back into Dream’s side.

The two of you stop off at a nearby bus stop before heading home: just to soak in the cold night air, the glimmering star shine that seemed to overshadow the romance of the full moon, the scent of candy apples and cinnamon that drifted its way like mist through the dying laughter. While he’s distracted, you reach up and feed Dream the first bite of the bar, trying not to feel guilty at how disgusted he looks as he solemnly chews. Even though he doesn’t like it, he sees how happy it makes you to share something so intimately with him. So, he just tugs you to lie with your back resting against the side of his chest, wrapping his arms with a feather light grace around your midriff until he soaks up all the frostiness that bites at your skin and replaces it with his own kindly, soul blushing, radiating warmth. And you can bet, every time you reach up to press the candy bar against his twisted lips and share the next bite with him, he’ll gladly take it every time you offer.

The gooey marshmallow kiss he leans forward to slowly and tenderly give you once the two of you are finished does make him smile against your lips (even if he is upside down), and makes it all worth it. Mainly due to the fact that he’s managed to smear a bit of the caramel against the tip of his nose, and you giggling as you reach up to rub it off gives him an excellent excuse to hover over you and gaze into your eyes with more bursting adoration and exultation than any universe in any creation could even dream to muster.

[gabessquishytum]

i'm a big fan of dream and hob finally getting their act together and confessing and getting together only to be the absolute worst to be around. like, hob's colleagues had been telling him for *months* that he needed to man up and ask dream out already, because even they could tell how in love with each other they were, and honestly it was getting really annoying watching them do this weird little dance around each other for so long. so when hob finally tells them that they have nothing to worry about anymore, they're dating now :)! they're all so relieved. except then dream (ever the possessive and clingy bastard) never leaves hob alone and trails behind him constantly and they realize that they should've been grateful before.

especially when hob doesn't stop him, hell, he definitely encourages him, and they also realize that the two of them cant be left alone together, like, ever. dream shows up to hob's office hours with coffee for him? give it five minutes and one of them will have the other bent over the desk struggling to take their clothes off. dream comes to a work gala of some sort? at some point everyone else vacates the room to go look at something/talk to someone/listen to a speech in another room and by the time they come back the two of them are noticeably more disheveled than before and might be wearing each other's belts. it gets to a point where they cant even carpool together without getting caught making out in the drivers seat because someone leaned too far back and honked the horn (it was dream. hob laughed until he cried and didnt even care when someone walking to their car saw them and dream hid his face in hob's neck out of rather uncharacteristic shame)

it probably goes for in the dreaming, too. matthew is relieved that his boss is finally getting laid and visibly holds less tension in his shoulders, but as soon as he walks in on lucienne lecturing dream and hob about making it a point to please not fuck in the library, with half their clothes still on the floor and a rather criminalizing amount of spit making its way down dreams chin, he decides he's not gonna bother dream for the next twenty years until he's got all his pent up frustrations out of his system. (he soon realizes dream's [canonical!!!] habit of accidentally flashing the entire dreaming every time he gets fucked and gets over his general uncomfort pretty quick. you know, exposure therapy n stuff)

-🖊

Oh you just know that everyone loves to hate these idiots. Hob went from normal, well adjusted dude to horny lovestruck teenager literally overnight, and everyone who knows him is at their wit’s end. He should know better but he absolutely Does Not and he is utterly unrepentant about it. He’s been pining for several lifetimes and the sexual energy is overwhelming!!! He doesn’t discourage Dream from sitting on his lap, or giving him hickeys in public, or crawling under his desk during office hours and not coming out until there’s something suspicious and white dribbling from the corner of his mouth…

Nobody is safe from the shenanigans. The new inn patrons just have to get used to the sounds of creaking floorboards from upstairs. Why Dream has to insist on fucking on the floor, nobody knows. The bar staff learn to turn up the music. No one wants to hear their boss screaming Middle English profanities through his third orgasm of the night.

It’s even worse in the dreaming, because Dream is the dreaming, so technically… the dreaming is getting laid? And it certainly isn’t shy about that fact. The throne room is looking very… phallic, recently. Matthew is just praying that the windows don’t produce more LITERAL PORNOGRAPHIC IMAGES. Please, can he just have one day without seeing Hob Gadling’s (ok, admittedly impressive) penis? Please? No? Ok.

[theaceace]

right so because actual writing doesn’t seem to be happening any time soon does anyone want the outline of a fantasy age of sail Dreamling fic, psyche I’m going to tell you all anyway

The general worldbuilding premise is that the Dreaming (a very fine clipper that can outpace the hordes of hell itself, so they say) is on the tail of a star that is, according to Lucienne's star charts (yes I know that's not how they work but she also has ones for navigation) due to fall. Lucienne is the Quartermaster (using pirate rankings, rather than merchant or naval), making her the second in command, skilled in navigation, and generally a voice of reason to the Captain

Dream and Lucienne know very well that fallen stars fetch a huge amount of money and are pretty magical in their own right, so all of the ships capable of traversing the Sea of Stars will be after it (to get to the Sea of Stars, you need to sail to the edge of the world and catch a storm, which lifts the boat and flips it upside down so its sailing on the sky which is ACTUALLY A SEA BECAUSE I SAID SO, like the boat feelings like it's sailing normally and if you could reach down far enough overboard you'd feel water, but that water is actually the sky and contains stars and if you looked up you'd see the normal ocean above you I don't even know if that makes sense but whatever)

So anyway the ships Threshold and Sunless Lands and Furies and a bunch of others are also going to be after the star

Now the biggest issue is I don’t know if I’d prefer Hob be the figurehead that comes to life and Morpheus the magical captain, or do I have Dream be the captain and figurehead (literally a part of the Dreaming and it’s magic??) with Hob the newest human member of the crew, so HERE’S THE PLOTS FOR THEM BOTH

With Hob as the newest member of the Dreaming and Dream as figurehead, then Hob claims he joined the crew for the sake of his wife and son (Dream is super bummed about this because it means that once Hob is rich he'll leave the Dreaming and also Dream can't smooch him) but during a moment of heightened tension (a battle? A vortex whirlpool?) Dream is trying to protect Hob because hes in love that's what figureheads do, and he's like 'you need to get back to Eleanor and Robyn!' BUT turns out they've been dead the whole time and everyone on the mainland thinks Hob did it, he didn't join the Dreaming to get rich he did it to escape the gallows, and to use the star to buy/wish/whatever himself a new life but he's already found a new life here on the ship!

So they eventually catch up to the star at the same time as the Furies and it's a big ol' battle and the Dreaming is almost destroyed, Dream is basically the only thing holding it together long enough for the Threshold to arrive and start scooping up the crew from the water, but oh no!

Hob has been fatally wounded, so using his Ruby and the last of his magic that had been keeping the ship together (maybe the ruby was left over from a previous fallen star?) He heals Hob, but in doing so is himself turned back into wood and Hob is too weak while healing to grab him and he sinks into the Sea of Stars and it's all terribly tragic except MVP Matthew (a former stowaway, now invaluable crew member who spends most of his time in the raven’s crow’s nest/rigging) totally managed to nab the star in all the chaos and confusion, so the Furies left thinking the star had already fallen (/sunk too deep to retrieve) and Hob uses the star to remake the Dreaming and bring Dream back (and possibly the help of Desire and Death) with the crew's blessing because like fuck would they just sell it after all that

OR

Hob used to be the figurehead of a ship captained by Eleanor and her son Robyn, and he wasn't really conscious or animate yet (that didn't happen until Dream came along) but he still loved them and felt like he'd failed when he could protect them, so when Dream built his ship out of the discarded dreams pieces of other ships that had been wrecked/broken down for parts, he chose Hob as his figurehead and breathed life into him, and oh boy what a life, Hob is going to make the most of it because that's the sort of person he is, and he'd never just give that up!

So, similar to before, off they merrily go to get the star, and Hob is so much more full of life than Dream has ever been and he's teaching Dream to feel joy! There are late night rendezvous! Dream watches Hob experience the wind and rain and sun on his skin for the first time! He's radiant with joy, Matthew is making gagging motions behind their backs!

  But, of course, things go wrong as before, and Dream is catastrophically injured and the Dreaming is falling apart as Dream is dying because he put so much of himself into it, and Hob returns the ruby Dream gave him (he has to literally kiss Dream and slip it over his head because Dream is so insistent that Hob not save him) and Hob goes still with his hand still curved in the shape of Dream's cheek although he was careful to let quickly let go so that there was no chance of him dragging Dream down with him. And I forgot to mention before but for bullshit magic reasons I would think of later, the ruby fizzles out at this point, can't be used again 

And in this one maybe Desire has the star and Dream knows they'll never give it to him except they DO because this is the first time they've seen their brother actually really WANT something for himself and not just for the Dreaming so they give it to him and Dream is going to be in their debt forever but he doesn't CARE. When they get back to the mainland he sets about rebuilding the Dreaming, and it's the first time he's made something from scratch in a REALLY LONG TIME probably for trauma reasons idk, and Hob is the last thing he carves, when everything else is perfect, and finally, FINALLY he uses the whole entire star to bring Hob back, so he's a real boy alive properly and off they all sail happily ever after

[grigori77]

REASONS TO LOVE Netflix’ The Sandman series

WARNING!!!  If you haven’t watched it (particularly if you haven’t read the graphic novels, although it’s not essential for enjoying it) there are potentially some serious spoilers coming up here, so be warned ...

...

...

Neil Gaiman basically shepherded the whole thing in, so this is VERY MUCH EXACTLY what he always intended a Sandman series to be.  Long may he remain on the show, because this is about as perfect as a TV series can get, especially an adaptation of SUCH A BELOVED PROPERTY as this ...

Tom Sturridge is PEAK casting genius.  Not only is he spectacularly spot-on with Dream’s speech and mannerisms, but he just LOOKS like the character stepped right out of the comic pages.

But I also love how, while the series IS about the Dream King himself, he’s not necessarily the main, DOMINANT character here.  Sure, in the first half of the season (essentially adapting volume one, Preludes & Nocturnes) it’s very much about his imprisonment, escape and the subsequent battle for him to regain his powers and kingdom, but EVEN HERE there are times he’s more like a supporting player in his own story, letting other characters into the spotlight, especially in the second half when the show adapts volume two (The Doll’s House), when it becomes far more about Rose Walker ...

Speaking of which, Rose is FANTASTIC.  Kyo Ra is a sweetheart and her Rose is adorable and lovely and just the purest cinnamon roll and must be protected at all costs.

Matthew the Raven.  OMG Patton Oswalt.  I knew right away he was gonna be great in this but he surapassed all my expectations as one of my very favourite characters.

The relationship between Dream and Lucienne is PERFECT.  She respects her boss immensely but is not prepared to put up with his shit for a MICROSECOND, and if that means letting him dangle to prove a point she’s gonna do it.

So what if John Constantine is genderbent?  Jernna Coleman’s always AWESOME and she just GOT the character.

Episode 6, The Sound of Her Wings.  Sweet mercy that is a PERFECT HOUR of television right there, completely flawless.  In a season that’s already pretty legendary in its faithfulness, this note-perfect transplant of Gaimain’s flawless writing is a solid gold JOY to experience.

Kirby Howell-Baptiste as Death ... OH MY GOD.  My girl was brought to life with flawless perfection, I’m a happy puppy after this.

The Corinthian.  Boyd Holbrook’s another example of perfect casting here, and the rogue nightmare is a PERFECT Big Bad for this first season ...

Lucifer ... yeah, I love Tom Ellis in the show as much as anybody, but Gwendoline Christie is GOLD.  She just GOT the role, clearly.

The duel in hell is AWESOME.  Perfectly done.

Merv Pumpkinhead!  Mark Hammil ladies and gentlemen!  The man can do no wrong.

The Diner Experiment in Episode 5 gave me CHILLS.  That was as close to the perfect nightmare that scenario could have gone, but thankfully without going QUITE as far as it did in the comic.  THAT might have been a bit TOO MUCH.

While we’re there, David Thewlis’ John Burgess is a fantastically complicated and enjoyably HUMAN supervillain, and you’re never quite sure if he’s ENTIRELY WRONG, which worries me greatly.  As it should ...

Also Charles Dance once again proves he’s incapable of delivering a bad performance.

Cain and Abel are a darkly comic delight.

Stephen Fry as Gilbert!  YAY!!  Love that man in everything, he was born to play Fiddler’s Green in human form.

I loved how they got the motley collection of misfits in the Cape Kennedy B&B absolutely right.  Hal, Barbie and Ken, Chantal and Zelda, I love you all, you’re adorable.

Yay!  Martin Tenbones!  Looking forward to seeing him again when they do A Game of You in one of the later seasons.

The “Cereal” Convention.  Haliariously funny in a jet black way guaranteed to get your skin crawling too ...

Desire and Despair.  Sure, they’re only in this a little bit, but like Death I’m looking forward to seeing more of them in the future, they’re both spot-on.

The Gault and the way she protects Jed despite being a nightmare, that’s so wonderful.  I love the idea that a constructed creature can try to be something other than it was intended to be, just like the rest of us.  Gaiman is so spectacularly deep.  And then we get that beautiful payoff at the end of the season where Dream’s learned his lesson and lets her change for the better ...

This whole season is just pitch-perfect in the visual effects and the sound and the music and the design and the wayit’s shot and cut.  It’s a feast for the eyes and I’m glad Netflix were willing to spend the money to let Neil realise his vision without restraint.

Netflix, this is PERFECT.  Give us a full series, let Neil do the entire story through to the end, no matter if it takes more than your holy three seasons to do it.  This is TOO GOOD for you to NOT let him do it ...

[t-t-t-trasher]

since i havent seen anything on this yet ima do it myself

SANDMAN HOGWARTS AU LETS GO!!

(this is my first time doing smth like this so im basically throwing pasta at the wall here seeing what sticks n what not so be nice n if u have smth to add or say please do!)

sorting n basics

• dream is ravenclaw (obviously) with lucienne!

• hob is hufflepuff (obviously well actually he could be gryffindor too but hes literal sunshine boy so)

• rose n jed are gryffindor

• constantine is slytherin

• MERVYN IS A GHOST pumpkin headed ghost w many opinnions n cuss words harassing the younger students n so on

• matthew is still dreams raven (obviously) n can still speak bc magic!

• i wana add the endless siblings here too bc the absolute shenanigans they would be up to

• they are in their own way like the weasleys ig? everyone knows the big old n powerful endless family n they r all kinda weird n unique in their own way n dress all black (exept desire) but yeah recognizeble if u know what to look for

• they r all in different years n ages

• desire n despair r slytherin n absolute menaces there :D

• destiny is the oldest n ravenclaw

• always w his book n prolly graduated already or maybe became a teacher/TA there?

• absolute legend at divination

• death is gryffindor! social, nice n well liked by all

• delirium is also ravenclaw kinda aloof n v much like luna. doing her own thing n living her best life

• destruction in not in hogwarts but in durmstrang

• calliope is hufflepuff but chages to beauxbaton in 4th year

shenanigans

• twins being tricksters. despair is calmer than his brother but is ride or die w desire who is unhinged

• lucienne ja dream r v good friends n often break into library to read forbidden books

• in fact by 5th year lucienne has read every book in hogwarts

• is dream a bit bratty about this? we will never know

• hob n death r v good friends n also v popular bc who doesnt like them ???

• also death, desire n despair know all the rumors n wich of them r true n not

• death is still not a gossip tho she just listens n is good judge of character

• desire also loves to make rumors (about dream n his crushes)

• constantine n dream r friends

• she sometimes warns dream about twins next prank but only when she thinks they r going too far

• actually there is no bad shit so everone gets to be magical teens in peace but ofc theres drama n what not cuz its hogwarts

• delirium is just vibin n having the best time w fairies n what not

• she is considerd bit weird but if anyone was ever going to be ass about would they face the absolute wrath of endless family

• i wana say that the endless D theme is like a family tradition n actually they all go their second names aka the D theme n everyone just call them by those names or by endless

• for example morpheus dream endless aka dream

• why? bc names r poweful n hold power n also they r the endless so they get a pass on that by staff

• do ppl even know their first names? no but al least hob is determinated to find out (he does)

• dream n hob meet in their first year n like in the TV show hob says smth stupid n to prove him (n death) wrong dream makes a bet w hob

• death is playing the long game for dream to have friends basically but dream doesnt have to know that

• bet goes accordingly n they talk basically once a year

• maybe the bet was about test results or house cup? no one remembers anymore (hob, death n dream do)

• anyway they they become friends like in year 4 over some magic drama

• maybe more later wink wink

• hob n rose bond over being muggleborn n tecnology nerds

• they make a competition of who can bring muggle stuff to hogwarts n make it work there too

• despair knows n chats w every ghost in hogwards its her own rumormill

• so does delirium but she doesnt care about gossip at all they r her friends :)!

• corinthian is slytherin n has self-proclaimed to be dreams rival

• big flirt n know for it

• dream thinks hes annoying but they r childhood friends so dream tolerates him or at least he says its only that

• hob knows all the secret tunnels n shortcuts n is trying his damn best to find n figure out all the secrets of hogwarts

am i forgetting someone? would ppl like to hear more 👁👄👁? i would love to talk about more hogwarts AU bc i literally cant stop thinkin about it

N IF SOMEONE WOULD LIKE TO WRITE ABOUT THIS BLEASE DO CUZ IM NO WRITER

[sugar-spice-and-pretty-men]

Sandman ep 3+4 impressions - Joanna Constantine was surprisingly cooperative. When she pointedly told Morpheus to fuck off and only cared about her job I thought we’d spend the whole episode playing bullshit game to get her to help, but she actually didn’t mind lending him a hand, which was a breath of fresh air after the first ep where 90% of people involved refused to compromise whatsoever. Granted she only wanted to get rid of the nightmare and did try to slip away, but overall that went well enough. - Matthew my dude, the reason why she got away was because you distracted Morpheus! Speaking of which, Matthew was a human who died and the next thing he knew, he was a raven. Dude sure took it in stride, just shrugged it off and went on with his new job. - Poor Rachel falling in love with the wrong person and suffered terribly for it. Still, 6 months and no one went to check on her?? Where the heck were her friends and family?! - Now I know why Morpheus was stuck in the basement for a decade, it has been 10000 years and he still hasn’t forgiven Nada, dude’s just petty as fuck. Then again Gods and the Divines in mythologies are rarely known for being forgiving lol. Really curious what happened between them though. - Morpheus owe both Lucienne and Matthew a heartfelt thank for looking after his ass. - I thought Morpheus was going to get his ass kicked by Lucifer, but then they started playing a game of who is stronger Naruto vs Goku... - I feel like I missed something with the “hope” one, wouldn’t despair kill hope? Or did that not count because Despair is his sibling? Why did Lucifer look so shaken? I didn’t quite get that part. - I have seen Neil Gaiman hyped up Lucifer’s casting a lot, so I was looking forward to Lucifer’s performance but honestly I was disappointed. First of all the hairstyle they chose for her fucking sucked, her face was already so round and soft, so that puffy curly hair just made her look like a Karen. She didn’t look ethereal and threatening at all, she looked like a childish middle-aged woman ready to throw a tantrum. The only thing I liked about her was her height, I liked how they used the camera angle to show her dwarfing over Morpheus, that was cool. Also her outfits were dope. - Rosemary my dear, showing too much kindness to the wrong person will only result in disaster. That amulet John gave you, please for the love of all good thing in the world, throw it into a fucking lake or something. That will only cause trouble, you don’t want to accidentally have some people fucking explode while defending yourself. At least she’s alive though, god I was afraid she was gonna die. - Ethel was a great character, I feel conflicted about her. She genuinely loved her son but she was also a terrible mother, she accidentally created a monster and didn’t know how to deal with it. - If I understood it right, Ethel was 116 years old when she died, she had John when she was fairly young, like when she was 20-ish? So John must be around 90 years old? Wait that doesn’t feel right, he’s too mobile and clear-minded for a 90 years old. He seems more like 70-ish to me. But let’s say he’s 90yrs old and was kept fairly young because of magic or whatever, he said he had been locked up for 30 years. So he stole the ruby and made a mess at... 60 yrs old...? Like really? Rebellion at the retire age...? - The timeline is kinda fucked, like Morpheus said he was imprisoned for a decade, but Alex already looked like 8-9 yrs old when Morpheus got caught. How the fuck did both Alex and Paul come to be in such great shape at like 110 years old?? As far as I know they had no magic shit lying around because Ethel stole them already, and Alex wasn’t really taught magic by his father. So what the heck? It’s especially confusing when you consider how Alex wasn’t that much younger than Ethel. He was already like a late teenager when they met, and Ethel was like only a few years older than him. Without the Amulet of Protection, Ethel crumbled to death, but Alex was healthy enough to be able to stand and walk a little by himself. The characters’ age is kind of a fuckery. I should have paid more attention to the date but I’m also not sure if that would helped lol.

[thepaintedlady00]

Hi again! I hope it doesn’t bother you for me to drop here again, if so feel free to ignore this. I saw this amazing art

https://at.tumblr.com/yoolkon/700705536213221376/uqrmu2klc7nt

And I keep laughing just thinking on how dream would struggle with technology. I know you have already done something similar, but I need more about reader trying to teach him to use new things

I absolutely do not mind getting sent amazing art! I totally didn't just spend the last 30 minutes consuming every single thing they have on their blog. Dream learning the ways of technology will never not be funny! 😂

Since you and Dream had begun courting one another keeping in touch between realms had been a bit of an adjustment. You saw one another every night when you went to sleep, oftentimes even before then, but during the day's Dream of the Endless had duties to see to which left you missing him. You'd expressed this feeling to him a few times, to which the immortal being made a suggestion you hadn't expected.

"I could get one of those devices humans use. Cell phones I believe you call them."

"You could?" You asked, looking at him over the library table. "Would that even work here?"

Dream looked to Lucienne, who shrugged her shoulders. "There's only one way to find out for certain."

Matthew chuckled. "This is going to be hilarious."

"I am eons old," Dream replied bitterly. "I am quite sure I am capable of figuring out a measly piece of human technology."

Both you and Matthew shared a look. "Of course, you can. It's not really that hard once you get the hang of the basics. I can help you!"

He smiled at you. "Thank you for the offer my love, should I need such I will come to you."

At first, you thought he would forget, he was quite busy ruling over the entire unconscious collective of the world, but the very next night he appeared in your apartment with a cell phone. You helped him put your number in and went over a few basics with him, calling, text messages, and so on. As the days passed he'd sent you messages, either far too long or far too short, during the days. At night you showed him emojis, which he had yet to figure out.

What was perhaps the most entertaining was the phone calls. Dream's cloak could hold any object he wished, including the phone he'd forgotten to hang up. You listened to the white noise of his star-filled coat as well as the sound of his muffled voice until he realized he'd forgotten to hang up. "My love? How is this still on?"

You laughed quietly. "Hi! Sounds like you're having a busy day."

"How is this happening?"

"You forgot to hit the big red button after you were done," you said, giggling even more when the call abruptly ended as he'd tested the truth behind your words.

Dream was already waiting for you when you got home, looking at the phone with narrow eyes. "I dislike this human nonsense."

You set your things down and joined him on the couch, curling into his side and kissing his cheek. "It can be a lot."

"I do not understand why your kind insist on such things. Would it not be better to simply go to whomever you wished to speak to?"

"It would be, but not everyone can teleport with magic sand, dear." You held your hand out to the phone and quickly opened his camera. "Smile."

He didn't, but that only made the photo look better in your eyes. You showed your picture to him and watched the corners of his mouth twitch upward. Dream was stoic by nature and so he'd never admit it, but he loved pictures of the two of you together. "I suppose that is a useful function."

"You don't have to keep it if you don't want to," you told him.

"You wished to speak with me more," he answered.

With a smile, you nodded. "Of course, I want to talk to you more. I love you. But I don't want you to have to worry about figuring a dumb phone out on top of all your other duties. Seeing you every night is enough for me."

Dream hummed quietly, pulling you into his arms and lounging back on your couch. "I shall keep it. I'll not be as fluent in this odd form of communication as you, but it is nice to have the option should I need it."

"You, Dream of the Endless, are amazing."

"As are you." He kissed your head and then asked, "What do these images mean? Matthew told me to "text" them to you." You looked down at the screen and clamped your hand over your mouth to conceal your fit of laughter. "How is an eggplant humorous?"