#no longer a dream

[unpredictable-probabilities]

No Longer a Dream || Chapter 1: His End

Main Summary:

Hob had felt a sense of worry about Dream ever since they last saw each other.

When Dream appears on his doorstep a month later, Hob's worries only grow.

But now he has a chance to be there and actually take care of Dream. And by God, he'll do his damnedest to keep his friend safe.

Total Word Count: 13,712

Author's Notes:

This work is a gift for @zzoomacroom as part of the @mr-sadman 2024 Spring Exchange <3 If you prefer to read it on AO3, here's the link~

Heads-up that I haven't read the comics leading up to the Significant Canon Event I mentioned here, I just got information about it from the internet, including the personality of a certain character that hasn't appeared in the show yet. So if the timelines or some other things don't match up, that's why.

Anyway this was really fun to write, and I hope you all have fun reading it too! ^_^

Chapter Summary:

Dream appears on Hob's doorstep injured and barely conscious. Hob helps him recover and worries about what could have happened to hurt his friend that much.

Chapter Word Count: 4,386

---

The butter sizzled on the tagine pot, so Hob lowered the heat on the stove before double-checking if he had evenly coated the chicken wings with the breading before frying them. He had become fond of the mixture of ground cinnamon, ginger, turmeric, pepper, salt, and olive oil ever since he first tried the recipe last Christmas.

While the chicken cooked, Hob got to work on the glaze; simmering honey, a cinnamon stick, and some apricots in a saucepan.

He usually didn't make elaborate dinners after a school night, but seeing as it was a Friday and he had just finished marking the backlogged essays, he figured he deserved it.

After everything was cooked, he set them on the coffee table in front of the telly. Some Jeopardy and then a good book would be the perfect way to end the evening.

Hob put his feet up on the armrest, the plate on his lap, and was about to take a bite of chicken just as the show was starting.

A knock on the door made the fork stop halfway to his mouth.

Hob sighed and put the plate down on the coffee table before walking towards the door.

One downside about living in a flat above The New Inn was that sometimes his staff came up to ask for his input about one thing or other. Tonight could be about the inventory; they usually had to restock for the end-of-month specials.

He opened the door and his eyes widened, any thoughts of the Inn fleeing from his mind.

“Hob…” Dream was standing unsteadily, his voice barely more than a breath.

His black coat was in tatters, and his pale cheekbones seemed more prominent on his bruised face. A cut above his left eyebrow was bleeding.

“Jesus, Dream—” Hob barely got the words out before Dream's legs buckled.

Hob quickly caught him, wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist as Dream slumped against his chest.

“Dream? Dream?” Hob heard the growing panic in his voice when Dream's limp form didn’t respond.

He half-dragged, half-carried Dream to his couch, barely registering the sounds from the TV show.

He propped up Dream's head with a pillow and gently brushed away the lock of hair that was sticking to his forehead.

Was Dream sweating?

Dream’s eyes were half-closed, and he seemed to be mumbling something.

“What? What do you need?” Hob leaned closer to hear him better.

“...leave. I must leave.” Dream looked like he wanted to stand up but couldn’t seem to remember how.

“Leave?” Hob said in surprise. “Mate, you can barely keep your eyes open."

"Must… Keep you safe…"

"I'm perfectly safe. It's you we should worry about. And why’d you come here if you’d just leave immediately?”

Dream shook his head, wincing as if the small movement caused him pain. “I did not… I was brought here.”

“What?” Hob frowned and took a breath. Each answer from Dream just brought up more questions. “That doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is you recover, yeah? Stay here.”

Hob quickly got the first-aid kit from the cabinet and went back to Dream's side. “Just gonna clean up that cut on your forehead. This might sting a bit.”

Dream flinched when the cotton made contact with his skin but didn't seem to have much energy to protest.

“Right then,” Hob said after cleaning up the cut. “I have to remove your coat to see your other injuries. Is that alright?”

Dream frowned and grudgingly nodded, his face contorting in pain as he tried to shrug off his coat.

Hob tried to help as gently as he could, and the coat practically fell apart in his hands with how shredded it already was.

“Jesus…” Hob tried not to think of the last time he saw Dream. His friend visited for a drink, and there had been a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach that made him reluctant to let Dream out of his sight.

The shirt underneath the coat was torn in a lot of places too, and the fabric stuck to Dream's skin with dried blood. Hob frowned and took a closer look. The dark patches of blood had a shimmering quality to them, like there was glitter mixed in. He checked the cotton he had used for the cut on Dream's forehead; it was faint but it was there, the glitter with the dark red.

Alright, so his oldest friend was bleeding starlight on his couch. But more importantly, most of the bleeding seemed to have stopped already. He didn't know if Endless even needed their wounds to be cleaned and disinfected, but it was better to be safe.

“I'd have to cut your shirt off of you to clean the rest of the wounds, sorry. But if you're not comfortable with that, I can… Uh…” Hob racked his brain for an alternative. He knew what Dream had gone through from 1916, and he didn't want to make his friend feel so exposed again, but he didn't want to risk him getting an infection either.

Dream reached for his hand and gave it a weak squeeze. “I trust you.” It was barely a whisper but Hob heard it clearly.

Hob smiled reassuringly at his friend even though he's not sure how well Dream's half-closed eyes could see him.

It didn't take very long to get the shirt out of the way and clean the cuts on Morpheus’ torso. Hob’s army doctor knowledge came naturally to him, and all the while he pushed down his worries about what could have possibly done this much damage to his godlike friend.

Dream's pants were intact and had no cuts, as well as his boots. So after making sure that his face and torso were tended to, Hob removed his boots and gently lifted him up from the sofa, supporting his back and the backs of his legs.

Dream grumbled a noise of protest, but his eyes were fully closed.

“Just taking you to the bed, you'll recover better if you're more comfortable,” Hob explained, carefully walking towards the bedroom so as not to jostle Dream. “So you get the bed tonight and I'll take the couch.”

He placed Dream down on his bed and quickly put the blanket up to his chin.

“There. You rest up, and tomorrow, tell me who I need to fistfight,” Hob said mostly to himself, he suspected that Dream was asleep already.

He sighed and looked down at his friend. He had never seen Dream sleep before, and seeing it now made him feel a surge of protectiveness, not unlike what he felt in 1789 when Lady Johanna’s thug pointed a knife at Dream's throat.

Hob returned to the living room to tidy up before he could fully analyse such feelings.

He tried eating the chicken on his plate, but he had lost his appetite and felt too nauseated with worry to eat properly. He cleaned up and put all the food in the fridge, glancing from time to time at the open doorway to check on Dream.

After everything had been put away, he returned to his bedroom and turned off the lamp on the nightstand. Dream looked much more relaxed now, the crease on his forehead had smoothened and his breathing came more evenly.

Hob knelt down and brushed a strand of hair from Dream’s face, barely touching the skin. “Good night, love,” he whispered, warmth spreading in his chest at how right the words felt.

He stood up and turned to go, deciding to leave the door open in case Dream needed something. But before he could walk away, he felt a hand grab his own.

“Stay,” Dream’s voice said, soft with sleepiness.

Hob looked at him in surprise, unsure if he heard correctly. “You… want me to stay in this room? Okay, um, just give me a moment to get the spare mattress—”

Dream shook his head and blinked blearily at Hob. “Beside me.” He moved aside to make more space on the bed, not letting go of Hob's hand.

Hob swallowed. Dream’s grip on his hand might still be weak, but Hob didn't feel nearly strong enough to pull away. He felt himself nodding. “Of course.”

He climbed in beside Dream, who pulled the blanket over the both of them as soon as he lay down.

Dream pressed in closer to Hob, tucking his head under Hob's chin, his hand over Hob's chest. “You are very warm.”

“Uh,” Hob managed, his brain still trying to process how they ended up here.

Dream felt cool against him, and Hob wondered if he was cold. That would certainly explain why he was suddenly all snuggly.

Hob tentatively turned and put an arm around Dream, making sure that his touch stayed over the blanket and not on Dream's skin. “Is this better?”

Dream made a contented hum, and when he didn't reply several moments later, Hob realised he had fallen asleep.

Hob sighed, resting his chin on Dream's soft hair. Tomorrow, he would ask Dream what had caused his injuries. He'd see what else he could do to help and what else Dream needed.

But for now, they both deserve a good night's rest. And in the darkness of his bedroom under the covers with Dream, Hob allowed himself to believe that he deserved this, too.

***

Hob began to wake up when he felt the mattress shift. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and saw a slim figure get up unsteadily from the bed and onto the floor.

“Dream,” Hob sat up, the events of last night coming back to him all at once. “Is everything all right?”

“I apologise for intruding on you last night. It was not my intention…” Dream trailed off and looked down at his bare chest, seeming to notice it for the first time. His eyes widened fractionally, and Hob was quick to jump out of bed and get to his closet.

“Here, take this.” He got the first black shirt he saw and handed it to Dream.

Dream looked at it uncertainly for a moment before putting it on. It hung loosely around his frame; the sleeves reached down to cover half of his hands and the neckline showed his collarbones. “I thank you for your kindness. I will be sure to repay it soon. But for now I must leave.”

“There’s nothing to repay— Wait, leave? You were barely conscious just hours ago, are you sure you should be going out by yourself already?”

Dream nodded once. “I feel quite alright. You have taken care of my injuries and…” He glanced to the bed and averted his eyes for a moment. “I apologise for my behaviour. It was crude of me to insist upon your company as I did last night.”

Hob shook his head. “Not at all. We’re friends, right? I’m always happy to keep you company.”

Dream gave him the barest hint of a smile. “I must go. I will return your item of clothing as soon as I am able.” He turned and headed for the door.

“Whoa wait,” Hob followed him to the living room. “I don’t care about the shirt. At least let me check on your wounds before you leave.” He kept remembering the way Dream looked when he arrived, how he fell limp and unresponsive in his arms.

“You have done more than enough for me, my friend,” Dream said gently. “By all rights I am… not even supposed to be alive anymore. But I am grateful that it was you to whom they brought me. Regardless, I cannot stay long. I thank you again.”

He walked quickly towards the front door, but Hob was faster.

“Hey,” Hob grabbed his arm and spun him around so they faced each other. “Not supposed to be alive anymore? What are you— You can’t just say that and then leave! What…” he trailed off, looking into Dream’s eyes as he held Hob’s gaze.

“Hob. I must go.” Despite his firm voice, Dream looked conflicted.

Hob couldn’t discern if the conflict meant he wanted to stay longer, or at the very least explain more. But Hob didn’t want to cause him any more distress. He reluctantly let go of Dream’s arm. “Okay, but… will I see you again next week?”

Before Dream had visited him a month ago to say that he was going to do something important, they had seen each other every week since Dream’s return from Fawney Rig.

The second that it took for Dream to answer was enough to make Hob's stomach turn with nervousness.

"I believe so, yes."

Hob nodded. "You take care, alright? If you need anything you know you can always come here."

The smile that Dream gave him was less subtle this time. "You take good care as well, Hob Gadling." He went out the door and closed it behind him.

Hob almost immediately began to pace the floor. There was something he couldn't quite figure out about the conflict in his friend's expression. Maybe two centuries ago Dream would be too prideful to stay or rely on him, but he was different now. Something else was stopping him from staying with Hob even though it seemed like he wanted to.

Hob stopped in his tracks as he remembered something that Dream said last night.

"Must… Keep you safe…"

Dream left to protect him. Dream was worried that whatever attacked him last night might follow him here.

"I am… not even supposed to be alive anymore."

Something was after Dream.

Hob flung open his front door and raced outside, praying to whoever god was listening that his friend hadn't teleported away.

He was just able to see Dream exit the Inn as the door closed behind him.

“Sir? Who was that?” The bartender asked Hob but he was already running to the door.

Dream walked fast. He had already gone a good distance when Hob got out onto the street.

The rush of the morning commute wasn't helping. Three times Hob had lost sight of Dream in the foot traffic, and each time he was afraid that Dream had teleported. Maybe he was overreacting, maybe there was nothing to worry about, but he'd rather not risk it. He had no idea that Dream had been captured and imprisoned for over a century; if Dream went away and died somewhere, would he ever know? Or would he keep waiting century after century for someone who would never come back?

Hob pushed down the wave of nausea that rose with that thought, and focused on keeping his eyes on Dream. He had considered calling out to him, but worried that it might only drive him away further.

Dream turned a right to the park, and Hob followed, keeping his distance.

Dream went to an empty bench and sat down.

Was he waiting for someone? Hob stood half-hidden behind a tree a few feet away, unsure of whether to approach.

“Will you not sit with me, Hob Gadling?” Dream said without looking at him.

Hob was only briefly surprised, then he chuckled to himself and walked over to the bench. “So you knew the whole time, then?” He smiled sheepishly, tugging at his left ear.

“I would recognize your presence anywhere.”

Hob was relieved to see that Dream didn't seem upset and even looked fondly at him—if Hob dared to believe it.

Hob shifted uneasily in his seat, feeling Dream's warmth even though there were a few inches of space between them. “What’s wrong?” he finally asked. “Are you in danger somehow?”

Dream seemed to weigh his words before speaking. “You must not worry about me, Hob. You need not have followed me here.”

“You're my friend, I'll always worry about you. Especially when you pass out in my house and say stuff like you shouldn't be alive anymore,” Hob said pointedly.

Dream looked down for a moment, his long eyelashes catching the light of the sun. “I suppose I do owe you an explanation after all that you have done for me.”

“No, it's not that.” Hob sighed. “You don't owe me, I'm just concerned. And if I can't do anything to help, at least let me be someone you can talk to.”

Dream stared out into the park where families were having picnics and kids ran around with their dogs. “What do you know of the story of Orpheus?”

“The bloke in Greek mythology?” Hob furrowed his eyebrows while trying to remember what jumbled knowledge he had of the myths. “He had a lyre, and he was the one who almost succeeded in getting his wife out of the Underworld, except he looked back when he wasn't supposed to.”

It was one of the more popular stories, and one that stuck with Hob as someone who had also lost a wife too soon. He would have also braved the Underworld to get Eleanor back, and like that poor sod Orpheus he would have also looked back.

“Indeed.” Dream kept his eyes looking in the distance. “Shortly after his failed quest, Orpheus was killed and his body hacked to pieces. His decapitated head remained conscious and was able to provide prophecies to adventurers and travellers alike.”

Hob pondered that for a moment. “What a way to live, eh? Just a talking head. Travelling would certainly be out of the question. Even I'm not sure how long I'd be able to do that.”

Dream was quiet for a few seconds. “He did not wish to continue living like that himself. And in exchange for a boon, he asked me to help him. End his life.”

“...Oh. You knew him, then?”

“Yes.” Dream said calmly. “He was my son.”

Hob stared at Dream, speechless in his surprise. After having known Dream for centuries, he had half-expected that most people in mythology were real. But knowing that Dream lost his son in such a way made him feel a deep sadness; no pain compared to outliving a child.

“And did you…” Hob couldn’t even finish the thought.

Dream nodded. “I asked for his help in finding my brother. In return, he made me promise to help him end his existence as a lone head of an oracle. He was unhappy, and I could not refuse when he asked for my aid.”

Hob fell silent. If he had been in Dream’s place, would he have had the strength to do the same? If Robyn had asked for his help in ending an unhappy existence, would Hob be selfless enough?

“I'm…” Hob trailed off. What could he say? He was sorry that Dream had to help with the death of his own son? Dream wouldn’t want to be pitied. “I'm glad to see you're okay, at least. But what did you mean that you're not supposed to be alive?”

“The old laws forbid us from killing our own blood, on pain of death. When the Kindly Ones found out what I had done for my son, they came to enforce the law.”

Hob could only imagine what it must have felt like for Dream, knowing he would be killed for fulfilling a promise to his son.

“How did you escape?” Hob's voice came out in a whisper, as if speaking any louder would bring the attackers upon them again.

There was a slight frown on Dream's face as he tried to recall what happened. “I am not entirely sure. I had no plans to escape. I regained consciousness shortly before my siblings brought me to your door.”

“You had no plans to escape?” Hob said incredulously, horrified. “You knew that your punishment was death, and what— You just— You just sat there while they tore at you?” He didn't even want to imagine such a scene.

Dream finally looked at him. “You are upset.”

“Of course I'm bloody upset! You just told me you planned to die. Were you ever gonna tell me?” Hob had gotten to his feet. He didn't know when the tears had started to well in his eyes.

“I had said goodbye to you. Before.” Dream looked at him with a sombre expression.

“What…” Hob frowned, processing what that could mean. “When you visited me for drinks a month ago? That's it? Was I supposed to wait for you for an eternity not knowing that you had died?” His voice broke.

“There would have been a funeral,” Dream looked up at him, his voice soft and his eyes resigned. “You would have been invited.”

“Oh, well then that makes everything better, doesn't it?” Hob was almost yelling now. “Centuries of friendship and I'm only supposed to find out about your suicide mission at your bloody funeral?” Hob’s tears began to fall, and Dream's eyes widened as he stood up.

“Hob…” Dream said in concern.

“You don't understand, Dream. You're the only person whose funeral I'm never supposed to attend. I've long since accepted that I would one day lose everyone I care about, but not you! What happened to meeting every century? Why didn't you wish to live?”

Dream stared at him in surprise and confusion. “I… did not think you cared that much. About our meetings. About…” he seemed to struggle in getting the words out. “Me.”

“Of course I care about you,” Hob's voice quieted down. He suddenly felt exhausted. “I never hid that, did I?”

There was conflict again in Dream's eyes, and a moment later he had stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Hob, pulling him in a loose embrace.

“Is this alright?” Dream asked softly.

Hob clenched his fists onto the back of Dream’s shirt and ducked his face into Dream’s chest, letting the last of the tears fall. All his pent-up worries since finding out about Fawney Rig and Dream's visit last month had surged up all at once, and now he was having a meltdown in the middle of a park. He'd be embarrassed if he didn't feel so wrung out.

He gently pulled away once his breathing had evened out. “Sorry, I've cried all over your shirt now.”

“It's your shirt,” Dream said with a hint of playfulness.

Hob chuckled. “Right. But seriously, Dream, are you still in any danger?”

Dream glanced at the sky, as if making sure there wasn't anything approaching. “If the Kindly Ones still wanted me dead, I believe I would be already. Something has happened to stop them, though I do not know what that could be.” He looked at Hob again, and when he spoke his voice was quieter. “I did not want to risk them following me to your home. That is why I had to leave.”

“Yeah I figured that much. But if you said they were only upholding some law, then they'd have no reason to harm me, right?”

Dream paused to consider it. “Indeed. But still I would rather you not encounter them.”

“And I'd rather you have a safe place to stay while you recover. Do you have anywhere to go?” A thought occurred to Hob. “Can you still teleport?”

Dream glanced down and didn't say anything. It would make sense that he was weakened enough not to have his powers; Hob should have realised that sooner.

“Wanna come back to my place and maybe we could figure something out over tea?” Hob asked gently. “There's also the spiced chicken I made for dinner last night, would take no time at all to reheat it.”

“I do not need to eat.”

“But I do. And I'm famished, love.” Hob belatedly realised what endearment he had just said, and he cleared his throat before averting his eyes in what he hoped looked like a nonchalant gesture. “Anyway. Shall we?”

Dream looked at him contemplatively before nodding.

They walked in comfortable silence, just enjoying each other's company while they went past the shops and restaurants. Some couples they came across were holding hands while walking, and Hob vaguely wondered what it would feel like to hold Dream's.

He should probably turn his thoughts to something else now.

“So, if you had a son, does that mean you're married? Is someone out there waiting for you to come home?”

Dream looked caught off-guard for a second and Hob wanted to kick himself. He never could stay quiet when it was the smarter choice. He was about to apologise and take back the question, but Dream was already answering.

“I have not been married in a long time. My former wife and I… We have had our problems even before our son was condemned to being an oracle. We had grieved separately. No one is waiting for me.” Dream's voice held an almost indifferent resignation, and Hob wanted so badly to tell him that he would always wait for him. That he did wait for him, all day and night at The White Horse in 1989, and every day since.

Dream stopped in front of a food stall. “I believe they sell grilled meat and bread over here. Shall we purchase some?”

Hob looked at the stall and raised an eyebrow at Dream teasingly. “I thought you said you don’t need to eat?”

“But you do. Love.” The corner of Dream’s mouth turned up.

Hob felt his face warm and he chuckled nervously. God, this man was going to kill him. “I don't have any money on me. I ran out of my flat in just my pyjamas, you know? Barely managed to put my shoes on. Besides, we're almost back there now,” he rambled, looking at anywhere but Dream.

“Then let us proceed to your home. I would not want to further intrude on your daily routines.” Dream began walking again.

“You're not intruding,” Hob said as he walked beside him. “How many times do I have to say it? I'll whack you over the head until you understand that you're welcome to stay with me anytime.”

Dream looked at him with a frown that Hob would never say he found endearing. “You would not dare.”

“Or what?” Hob challenged.

Dream narrowed his eyes at Hob. “You have grown insolent,” he said without any bite to it.

“Always been,” Hob winked.

Dream looked back at the road again, but not before Hob caught his smile.

---

Note:

I had no idea what a tagine pot was before I wrote this fic, but it sounds pretty cool and I can see Hob owning one.

---

(Chapter 2) ->

(Masterlist)

[s0up1ta]

something about loving you like an alcohol addict

pspsps come get your billford

this was supposed to be longer but dear god that's a lot of work... so here's the storyboard for it:

maybe i'll finish it later,, for the tragic fiddauthor enjoyer in me

ok bye

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[kroosluvr]

i had a dream a while back that maruki's palace was a gorgeous grand cathedral (though dilapidated, abandoned, and overgrown) kinda like this. also in the dream i was goro akechi idk what that's saying abt my subconscious

[firstfullmoon]

Megan Fernandes, “May to December,” in I Do Everything I’m Told

[bookwyrminspiration]

last night I had a dream that there was a tumblr update and the only thing it changed was that for two minutes straight you could sprinkle shredded cheese on other blogs and their posts, and everyone's dashboard was just pandemonium as everyone cheesed each other. two minutes of abominable amounts of shredded cheese raining from the dash. tumblr at its finest. get cheesed

[petrichara]

Trying to remember the last time I played hide and seek. The last time I said hi to everyone on the street or saw the girls I spent every day of six years with. The last time my dad picked me up, or my mum brushed my hair. When was the last time I dressed without consideration? There is so much to think about now. I remember falling on the grass at school and making stories with the clouds. Hanging upside down from the swing and realising how big the world was. I wonder on the path of growing when we stop feeling big. I am taller now, smaller still.

[sethdomain]

someone should write a species swap fic

[aroaceleovaldez]

the dynamic of demigods thinking which other demigod is the most powerful is always amusing to me because. like, we know the big 3 kids are all the most powerful. That's just a fact of their universe. And then we know nearly every character views Percy as the strongest demigod, and most people are very rightfully intimidated by him.

and you look at the powers of the Big 3 kids and there's Percy, but then you realize Nico is just kind of objectively more powerful than him but simply chooses to hang out in Percy's shadow like he's Percy's scary dog privileges. Like, the two of them are pretty equally capable of causing multiple different apocalypses. Nico just also has like four different instakill powers and it's not like he doesn't use them. He very much uses them! Not infrequently, even! And they don't seem to take a significant amount of energy from him! And other demigods are pretty intimidated by both of them! But Nico makes a conscious point to keep his cards close to his chest and not let on exactly how dangerous and scary he can be if he wants to. People are already scared enough of him without knowing anything about him and he doesn't like that. Percy doesn't think about that nearly as much, and so usually just goes in guns blazing and that's part of why he's considered a wildcard. And then Nico himself puts Percy on a pedestal, so those who do know more about Nico's abilities then presume Nico knows something they don't about Percy that implies Percy is even stronger than him.

And even on a meta level Nico's narrative role requires him to be functionally more powerful than Percy, because he very often serves the purpose of getting Percy out of situations he can't handle on his own. That's just part of his function as a character! But also narratively he can't overshadow Percy so he just takes a backseat of his own accord and that's very amusing to me.

[unpredictable-probabilities]

No Longer a Dream || Chapter 2: Visitors of an Old Dreamlord

Summary:

Hob manages to convince Dream to stay with him while recovering. As he does so, three unexpected visitors drop by to check on them.

Word Count: 3,560

---

They reached The New Inn, and Lee, the bartender, looked over in concern when they approached the doorway leading to the stairs to Hob's flat.

“Everything alright, sir?”

“Yeah, just had a little misunderstanding with my friend here so I've invited him over for brunch,” Hob gestured to Dream.

Lee eyed Dream before turning to Hob again. “James was in the morning shift and said he didn't see anyone come up to your place, so we were surprised and wondered if you were chasing a burglar.”

Dream arched an eyebrow, and Hob hurriedly spoke before he could get too offended. “No, no, he arrived last night, that's why James didn't see him.”

“Indeed,” Dream added. “I assure you that I mean no harm. And I had all intentions of returning Hob’s clothing when I walked out the door.”

Lee suddenly seemed to recognize Hob's shirt on Dream, and he visibly appeared to put two and two together. “Oh! Sorry, sir, we didn't realise you had a… uh, guest, last night.”

Hob felt himself flush. “I-It's not like that—”

“Oh, excuse me, sir. Customer.” Lee nodded to the guy who just approached the bar and asked for a menu. “You have a nice time with your friend!” He smiled at him and Dream before talking to the customer.

“Let's just go,” Hob turned to Dream and led the way to the back.

“Is something wrong?” Dream furrowed his eyebrows. “You seemed in distress when your employee called me your guest.”

“Oh, uh, no, it's just—” Hob cleared his throat. “He assumed that you're my, uh, let’s see, paramour. From last night. I was just trying to correct him.”

Dream blinked. “Is that a common occurrence, then? Do you often bring people here to bed them?”

“What, no!” Hob felt his ears warm. “I haven't gone out with anyone in ages. Especially not after you came back. Because I'd been so busy with work,” he hurriedly added.

“Hm. I am sorry to have made such an impression on your employee. I did not realise you were so against the idea of me being your paramour.” Dream said evenly as they climbed the stairs.

“I'm not— I mean I don't mind if people think we—” Hob snapped his mouth shut. He was behaving like a flustered teenager. Get it together, Gadling. “I wanted to correct Lee because I thought you might not like being seen as… you know… my lover or something.” He averted his eyes.

“Hm,” was all Dream said, which made Hob look at him again in curiosity.

“Do you not mind, then…?” Hob could feel the pulse in his throat. “If people see us that way?”

Dream looked at him and opened his mouth to answer, but they had reached the open doorway and Dream's eyes turned to something else.

“Sister,” Dream said in mild surprise. “And… brother.” He said more quietly.

Hob turned and saw two people standing in his living room; a woman with dark curly hair, and a much taller and muscular man with red hair and a beard.

“Morpheus.” The woman walked towards them and immediately pulled Dream into a hug. “We were wondering where you'd gone. I'm sorry we had to leave so quickly after bringing you here.” When she pulled away, there were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. “I trust you have been keeping well? I knew it was the right decision to bring you to Hob.”

The woman smiled at him, and Hob realised she seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he might have seen her.

“Hi, sorry, have we met before?” Hob asked uncertainly.

“No, but in 1389 you called me stupid.”

Hob tried to remember that day all those centuries ago, the first time he met Dream.

“You're Death,” Hob realised. “Thanks are in order, I suppose?” he grinned. Dream had told him when he first came back that it was Death who had given him immortality.

“You have my extremely stubborn little brother to thank for that gift.”

Dream pouted but didn't deign to say anything.

“Here's my other equally stubborn brother, Destruction,” Death looked over her shoulder at the bearded man, who chuckled before stepping forward. 

“I'm afraid I can't argue much with that.”

Despite his build, he radiated friendliness much like Death did. If he and Dream were to stand side by side, Dream—with his quiet and aloof demeanour—might be the one mistaken for Destruction.

“You must be Hob Gadling.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled and held out a hand. “Sorry we just let ourselves in, your door was open. Thank you for looking after our brother. ”

Hob took the hand and shook it. Destruction's grip was firm and callused, and it reminded Hob of all the warriors and soldiers he had known. “It's no problem. The tricky part is convincing him to let himself be looked after.”

“I’ve heard no complaints from you,” Dream pointed out.

Hob chuckled. “Shall we all sit down, then? Maybe have some tea?”

A little over five minutes later, they were all gathered at Hob’s dining table with steaming cups of green tea in front of them.

“We couldn't stay long after bringing you here,” Destruction began to explain, sitting beside Death and across from Dream. “We didn't want to risk The Kindly Ones following our trail.”

“Couldn't they have sensed Dream?” Hob asked. “He's Endless, too.”

Death and Destruction exchanged glances, and Hob felt Dream stiffen beside him.

“Not anymore,” Dream kept his eyes on his siblings. “Am I correct?”

“No,” Death shook her head. “You're still Endless, and you're still our brother, but…”

“You're not Dream anymore, Morpheus,” Destruction said gently, looking at his brother with sombre understanding.

“What does that mean?” Hob looked at each of them in turn.

“Someone else rules the Dreaming,” Dream—Morpheus—said in realisation. “I can feel it. That I am… less, now. Another has taken over my function.”

Death nodded. “Daniel. He's the Dreamlord now. And a benevolent one, so there's no need to worry about the denizens of the Dreaming nor the dreamers who visit.”

“And you can still visit the Dreaming too, as long as the new Dreamlord allows it,” Destruction said. “And we have no doubt that he will.”

“But please take some time to recover first,” Death said. “You only have that one body now, and it has just taken a lot of damage.”

“Why have you returned?” Morpheus asked Destruction with an edge of hurt to his voice. “Why help me escape my fate after centuries of being away from us?”

Destruction shook his head. “You were not obligated to die, brother. Just as I am not obligated to return to my original function. As for why I helped, you had been forced to break the old laws because of your quest to search for me; I would not have you die on my account.”

“What about The Kindly Ones?” Hob asked with a worried frown. “Would they still be after him?”

“No,” Destruction replied, and Hob let out a relieved breath. “We have spoken to them, shortly after bringing Morpheus here. We managed to convince them that an Endless being stripped of his function and forced to live an eternity as a human is as good as dying for them, and therefore enough punishment.”

“After all, no sane creature would crave an eternity of this. Am I right, brother?” Death asked Morpheus in amusement.

A smile twitched at the corner of Morpheus’ lips. “For the purposes of preserving my continued existence, let us say that you are indeed right, my sister.”

“I had thought that you would be more upset at losing your kingship,” Destruction mused. “And yet you are sitting here drinking tea with a human. I first had my doubts when Death said to bring you here, but now I see that this place is good for you. I do not think I have ever seen you more relaxed.”

Morpheus looked down at his cup. “Have you spoken to Delirium?”

“I have. Though I shall not be returning to my function, I have reached an agreement with our little sister that I would not be gone for so long, and endeavour to spend more time with her. Admittedly, I did not think someone could care about me so much,” Destruction smiled.

“Hmm. It would appear that such a trait runs in the family.” Morpheus looked at Hob, and there was no mistaking the affection in his gaze.

***

Death and Destruction bid their farewells eventually, reiterating how happy they were that Morpheus was all right. Morpheus gave a quiet thanks to them for helping him with The Kindly Ones, to which Destruction responded with a tight embrace.

When they had the place all to themselves again, Hob finally got to reheat the food from last night, and served a plate to Morpheus as well.

“I know, I know, you don't need to eat,” Hob said when he saw Morpheus about to protest. “But just eat a little, you're still recovering and it might actually help.”

Morpheus took a tentative bite of the chicken, and he chewed slowly as if savouring the taste on his tongue.

Hob very sternly told himself not to look at Morpheus’ lips as he ate, and he even nearly succeeded.

“I might understand now why you had been looking forward to eating this dish.” Dream stared curiously at the piece of chicken on his fork. “I do not frequently eat, but I recognize that the flavours are balanced and the taste is pleasing to the palate.”

“That's a long-winded way of saying you like my cooking,” Hob quipped to keep himself from staring as Morpheus’ tongue darted out for a moment to lick the bit of grease from his lip.

“I cannot accurately judge your cooking from just one dish. The only way to truly be sure is to sample others.”

Hob took a few seconds to process what Morpheus just said, to realise that his friend was looking at him with a playful glint in his eye. “You want to try more of my cooking?”

“If you have no prior dinner plans.” Morpheus took another bite and he really should stop darting out his tongue like that if he wanted Hob to remain sane for this conversation.

“It's a date,” Hob said without thinking. “I— I mean—”

He was saved from further rambling by a loud tapping on the window.

They looked over to see a black raven sitting on the ledge, hitting its beak repeatedly on the glass.

“Matthew?” Morpheus stood up and went to the window.

Hob followed curiously. Morpheus had told him about Matthew before, but he had never had the opportunity to meet the raven.

He opened it and was immediately met with an indignant squawk.

“So this is where you went, huh?” The bird said as it hopped onto the kitchen counter. “When were you planning on telling me you're alive?”

“Matthew. I have not been able to return to the Dreaming yet. And I had thought that you would be occupied in serving the new Dreamlord.”

“Oh right, you’re not my boss anymore. So I can do this.” Matthew flew up to Morpheus’ eye level and bit his nose.

Morpheus gave a cry and stumbled back. He stared at Matthew with wide eyes and his mouth open, too flabbergasted for words.

“Whoa, what was that about?” Hob said in surprise.

“That’s what he gets!” Matthew snapped at him before turning to face Morpheus again. “You think you can ghost me after ordering me to leave you to be killed? It’s a good thing your sister told me and Lucienne where you were.”

“Ghost you?” Morpheus looked confused.

“You’re lucky Lucienne said not to be mad at you.” Matthew snapped his beak at Morpheus, who instinctively flinched.

“This is you being friendly, then?” Hob quipped.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at him. “You must be the Hob Gadling dude they keep mentioning. Apparently you’re his favourite human or something, so you take care of him, okay? I'll be checking in again once everything's fine and dandy with the new boss.”

Hob grinned despite the threatening glare that the raven was giving him. “Sure, feel free to visit anytime.” He looked at Morpheus. “I wouldn’t wanna lose the ‘favourite human’ title.”

Morpheus’ cheeks turned pink and he turned to Matthew. “I am sorry for upsetting you. But you need not worry about me any longer.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, I don’t take orders from you anymore.” Matthew flew to Morpheus’ shoulder, and for a second Hob thought he was gonna bite his face again. But Matthew gently nuzzled against Morpheus’ cheek. “It’s really good to see you, boss,” he said quietly, his eyes closed.

Morpheus looked surprised before a soft smile appeared on his face. “I am not your boss, Matthew.”

“Shut up,” the raven said before flying back onto the counter. “I can’t stay long, gotta help with announcing to the denizens of the Dreaming that there’s a new king. But you two be careful. Use protection!” he said sternly to both of them before flying out of the window.

Hob’s eyes widened and he felt his face burn. What exactly do the denizens of the Dreaming think his relationship with Morpheus is?

“Protection?” Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows. “From what?”

“Um,” Hob cleared his throat. “Maybe he just meant we gotta look out for each other. Now come on, the food’s getting cold.” He turned away and quickly walked back to the table.

After finishing their meal and cleaning up the kitchen, Hob checked on Morpheus’ wounds again. They had healed up well, with some of them only being faint scars. Morpheus seemed affronted that there were scars at all, pointing out that back then he would have recovered enough for there to be no evidence of injury. Hob gave him some Earl Grey and said they could go shopping for clothes, which worked well enough in improving his mood.

Morpheus reminded Hob more than once to take note of the prices while they were at the shop, saying that he would pay him back once he had the means to. Hob pretended not to hear and changed the subject every time.

Hours later, they were sitting in front of the TV in the living room with plates of the pot roast that Hob had cooked for dinner.

“Remind me again why we are eating on your couch when you have an entire space dedicated for dining?” Morpheus’ imperious expression was softened by the fact that he was wearing a black sweatshirt and grey pyjama pants.

“So we could watch Doctor Who! I’m guessing you haven’t watched a single episode.”

“I had contained the collective unconscious. I am aware of what the show is and I know the dreams of the people that led to its creation.”

“Yes but have you seen an episode?”

Morpheus pouted, and Hob barely stopped himself from calling him adorable.

Four episodes in, and their plates were emptied and set aside on the coffee table. Hob felt the cushions shift and looked to see Morpheus leaning against the armrest with his eyes falling close.

“Morpheus? Would you like to sleep already? You can head to the bedroom now.”

Morpheus got startled and straightened in his seat, blinking. “This is strange. I am not supposed to need sleep.”

“Nothing wrong with needing sleep, or even wanting it. Especially since it's late already,” Hob glanced at the clock, it was past midnight.

“I see. Will you be going to sleep as well given the late hour?”

“In a bit. Just gonna wash the dishes first and brush my teeth.” Hob reached for the remote and turned off the telly.

“Ah yes, I almost forgot. We bought a toothbrush for me as well. Humans brush their teeth before they sleep, correct? Seeing as this body is human, I must take care of it as such. It would not do for me to deteriorate further.”

Hob wanted to say that Morpheus hadn't deteriorated at all, but Morpheus already stood up. Hob watched him with a small smile as he went to the bathroom for his toothbrush. It was good to see that Morpheus wanted to take care of himself, despite his mixed feelings about his newly human body.

***

When his nightly routine was done, Hob went to his room to get an extra pillow and blanket from his closet.

“What are you doing?” a sleepy voice asked.

He turned to see that Morpheus had propped himself up on an elbow to look at him.

“Just getting a pillow for the couch,” Hob held up said pillow. “You can go back to sleep.”

Morpheus sat up entirely and swung his legs off the bed. “The couch? This is your home. I will not take over your sleeping quarters.”

“I don't mind the couch, don't worry. You can have the bed to yourself.”

Morpheus furrowed his eyebrows. “Was it so unpleasant to share the bed with me last night that you do not wish to do it again?”

“No, no,” Hob quickly said. “It wasn't unpleasant at all.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Hob fidgeted with the pillow in his hands. He didn't mind sleeping next to Morpheus, it was the opposite, actually. Last night was one of the most comfortable sleep he'd ever had, but he felt like he would be taking advantage of his friend, since Morpheus had no idea that Hob's been in love with him ever since that first day they spent together at the Inn. Maybe even before that.

“No problem,” Hob finally answered. “I just thought you might be more comfortable having more space.”

“Hob Gadling, will you sleep in your own bed or do I have to pin you to it?” Morpheus said.

Now, there’s a thought. Hob swallowed.

“You really think you’re strong enough to be threatening that?” Hob grinned, instinctively hiding behind humour.

Morpheus narrowed his eyes, and Hob’s grin melted off his face as Morpheus slowly got out of bed and walked towards him.

“You dare question my strength?” Morpheus’ voice was a low rumble as he stood right in front of Hob.

Hob couldn’t look away from those stormy blue eyes, and any clever comebacks he might have had had slipped away from his mind.

Whatever expression he had on his face must have been mistaken as fear by Morpheus, who took a step back and smiled playfully.

“I jest. I simply do not want to keep you from using your own room in your house. If I must, I will take the couch.”

That got Hob back to his senses. “Like hell you will. Have you even slept in a couch before?”

“I have never slept before last night. Not in the way humans do.”

“Right, well, I’m not exiling you to the couch. Come on.” He walked over to the bed, belatedly realising he was still carrying the extra pillow and blanket. There were already two pillows on his bed, and he and Morpheus shared the blanket last night. But it was better that he brought his own now, right? Christ, he was overthinking this.

They settled into bed, with Morpheus pulling the blanket over both of them just as he had the night before. The extra one that Hob was holding had been put aside by the pillows.

“I thank you for letting me stay in your home,” Morpheus said quietly, facing him. “I am not sure how to begin looking for my own place, but—”

“Hey, none of that.” Hob turned to face him properly as well. “You’re welcome here for as long as you’d like. And if it’s money you’re worried about, I already told you way back in 1789 that I’ve learned how to manage my finances, right? If we continue at this rate, I’ll be able to pay for both our living expenses up until the next century at least.”

“I do not wish to be a burden.” Morpheus said it with the weight of something from his past, like it was something he felt he needed to clarify.

“You never are,” Hob said with all the reassurance he could muster. “If you really want to find your own place and even career, I’d be more than happy to help. But I’m telling you that I’m also happy to have you here. I like your company. In case that hasn’t been clear in the last six centuries.”

Morpheus’ answering smile was so fond that it made something flutter in Hob’s chest. “I enjoy your company as well, Hob. You are a good friend. I shall see you in the morning.”

Hob couldn’t help but smile back at that. “You definitely will. Good night, Morpheus.”

“Good night, Hob.”

Morpheus closed his eyes but didn’t turn away, and Hob found himself staring. He wondered how many people got to see Morpheus this relaxed.

This was the man who had stormed off in the rain when Hob dared to say that they were friends. And now, despite all his new human vulnerabilities, he trusted Hob enough to sleep next to him. It was enough to have Hob sigh in contentment as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

---

<- (Chapter 1)

(Chapter 3) ->

(Masterlist)

[flying-cat]

I still cannot get over that specific panel of Katsuki's face something about it is soooooo SOOOOOOOOO 😭

[myuminji]

Ethereal - txmy

[altho-arto]

As much as I respect Ryuu's grasp on english the whole games you cannot convince me he or Susato wouldnt slip up back to their native tongue once in a while ( #bilingual struggle)

Bonus panel (dgs2 spoiler!!) under the read more

[justcallme-ange]

Got some feelings about c!Dream and his whole arc. So I’m making it everyone else's problem XD

The Beginning

The End (Wishful)

Also for those that like Angst: The End (Actual)

[foolbehavior]

Dominoes