#of course dream has to storm out after hob says i love you! it is only the natural course of things

[wizardofgoodfortune]

i have been lurking in your asks for this moment: for the spotify wrapped fic prompt, #10!!

i'm going to ignore the very obvious and very painful daniel/hob implications of this song because i want to finish the comics first before writing anything outside of the show's canon. so have this instead!!

--

Dream had been visiting Hob more frequently than he'd like to admit. It all started with Dream wanting to carve out a small place of solace in his life, and what place was more perfect than The New Inn? Built for him like an altar for an absent god.

Though these days, he'd been more present than ever. He wished he had the privilege to say he'd been drunk the first night it happened, or the next night, and the next. But Dream, Lord of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares, always knew what was going on, and what desires he'd recklessly indulged in again and again.

Tonight was no different. By now, Hob was a veteran in making Dream feel more than welcome. It was all too easy to fall into Hob's arms and into his bed above The New Inn. Somewhere down the line, Dream had made himself vulnerable to Desire's machinations.

But he had somehow convinced himself that it was alright, as long as Hob wasn't vulnerable.

Some nights they talked afterwards, and Dream wasn't quite sure whether it amplified or quieted his regrets. This was one of those nights.

"Tell me about the Dreaming," Hob said, his head propped up on his arm as he looked down at Dream.

"What do you wish to know?"

"I don't know. Everything. You don't work alone, do you?"

"...No, I suppose I don't, anymore. I have Lucienne. And Matthew."

"Ah, Matthew, yeah, we've met. Why does he talk by the way? Nearly gave me a heart attack the first time he spoke to me."

"He was human, before. He died in his sleep and became a raven of the Dreaming."

"Oh," Hob said. He paused. Dream observed the shadows cast on his face by the moonlight. "So if I die in my sleep, I get to stay at your place? As a raven?"

Dream felt the corners of his mouth lift up. A silly notion. "You do not have to die. You will always be welcome in the Dreaming, Hob."

Hob smiled down at him, and Dream felt a warm fire in his chest. "Thank you, love. But what I meant is I never had the chance to visit your, y'know. Your place. Is it a castle?"

"Yes, I suppose you could call it a castle," Dream said.

Hob hummed, and tapped Dream's chest with his free hand. "A wild thing," he said after a few seconds.

"What is?" Dream asked.

"I was just some peasant when we first met," Hob said, his eyes lost in memory. "Thought you were some ignorant lord. In the back of my mind, I thought were you just making fun of me, asking to meet you after a hundred years. Never thought this," he gestured to their bodies, naked under the covers, "would ever happen. Y'know? A wild thing."

Dream hummed in agreement.

"Guess I'm lucky, huh?" Hob chuckled, his fingers still tapping on Dream's chest. "Hey. Would you bring me to your castle some day, show me around?"

"Perhaps," Dream replied.

"Tease," Hob chastised. Then he pressed a kiss on Dream's forehead, then on his nose, and finally on his lips. "I adore you. You know that? I love you, Dream."

Dream froze. He looked into Hob's eyes, saw the fondness in them, and knew that he meant it.

This was just supposed to be a brief respite, some semblance of comfort that he did not have in his day-to-day life. He thought it was the same for Hob, that Dream was just someone immortal to hold onto once in a while. But it wasn't. Not anymore.

I should not have come here, he thought, tearing his gaze away from Hob's. He did not have the heart to say it out loud.

Dream stood up from the bed, already clothed.

This will be the last time, he thought. It was what he thought every time. And maybe tonight it will finally come true. No, it should come true. Lest he destroy even Hob Gadling, like he has many times to his other lovers before. It always ended in tragedy, whether Desire was involved or not, and Dream didn't want that for him.

A hand shot up from the covers to grip his wrist.

"Stay. Stay, darling," Hob said, sitting up. "Won't you stay?"

Dream turned.

Hob's eyes shone, watery in the moonlight.

It should not be fair, Dream thought, for Desire to easily toy with me like this.

"I cannot stay any longer," Dream said.

"Why not?" Hob said, with all the petulance of a child. "Come back. Just for a while."

Dream resisted the urge to climb back in the covers with him. That was his sibling speaking.

"I apologize. I will make sure your dreams are pleasant tonight, and on every other night."

"Will you be coming back?" Hob asked. "You sound like you're never coming back."

Dream said nothing.

"I can wait. I will."

"I know," Dream said. He didn't add, "beloved."

"I'm not sorry," Hob said, gripping Dream's wrist even tighter. "But I won't say it again, if it means you'll stay."

Something cold and heavy sat in Dream's chest.

"So don't go," Hob said, "please."

Dream dissipated into thin air, but not quickly enough that he did not see a tear roll down Hob's cheek. He can still feel his grip on his wrist.

[delta-pavonis]

Dream Journal Rescue for the wip game, please

WHOO! Thank you for asking about this one, Nonny.

For the 2022 Dreamling Secret Santa I took a risk and wrote something that can be very divisive in fanfic and in fiction in general: first person narrative. I wrote the first half of i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) as a dream journal that Hob used to record his dreams after they came back when Dream got out of the fishbowl in 2021. It draws both from the early comics and from the TV show in terms of events/timeline. This fic got significantly less attention than the others I had written at the time, but it was also the one I was most proud of that year (and that's with Eros in Pragma and Hypnopompia turtur in there!). I am still extremely proud of it because it is, for me, I think very poetic writing. However, the first version of i had a dream wasn't post-fishbowl, but actually started before the fishbowl. Hob still kept a dream journal, and it still started in first person, but the idea originally was that Hob would figure out that something had happened to his Stranger because of his dreams stopping. Which meant that they needed to have enough of a relationship/rapport by the 1910s that Hob would trust that Dream would not miss a dream "date" of theirs without very good reason. Hence, "dream journal rescue" as the name. I only have pieces of the fic, but I keep them because I still viscerally love what I did with i had a dream SO FUCKING MUCH that I want to return to that style at some point. If you have read i had a dream you will see the bits I took from this and transferred to that.

This is totally G-rated and starts before 1889, as Hob is anticipating that next meeting, and then keeps going into 1914. Here's what I have in that WIP file:

1:

21 October 1885

I think I need to write these down. Olive suggested I start writing these down. She is usually right about such things.  

Maybe it will bring some clarity to this… mess. 

I’m in the White Horse Inn. (It is always the White Horse.) 

The year is not obvious from the decor, which is a riotous mix of 1389 and 1489 and 1789. Delicate teacups and straw-covered floor and fireplaces with chimneys. Of course chimneys. But I know, in the way of dreams, that it is the day of our annual appointment, the next one, in 1889. 

I shake my coat and hat free of the London morning rain. I am many hours before the time of our appointment. This my usual - I always arrive early. To ready the table and, more importantly, myself for our meeting. 

But in this dream I enter the White Horse to find the Stranger already there. He looks exactly as he did in 1789. Which must say something about my imagination since he has always been in impeccable fashion specific to the era of our meeting. 

Or perhaps it is because he looks at me with the same burning intensity that made our last appointment so spectacular. His eyes devour me, just as they did when we parted last, and I am absolutely helpless to resist.

I am sitting then, across from him, cups of tea and venison pasties between us. His beautiful pale fingers trace around the gilded edge of the teacup. I am speaking, words tumbling forth, I can hear the droning vibrations in my ears and throat, but it is not where my attention lies. 

My attention is riding the wave in his coalblack hair. My attention is wafting the bob of his throat above his high collar. My attention is tracing the sweet pout of his pink lips. My attention is flying through storm-sky eyes. 

He reaches across and

Fuck. I can’t write this.

2:

[There are several attempts at starting entries after the previous one. None manage more than a sentence.]

[No attempts at entries are made after 1889.]

3:

1 November 1898

I woke up still drunk and still in very rural Wales (note: never ever always maybe return for Nos Calan Gaeaf in the future) and found this old journal in the bottom of my trunk, so I suppose I shall once again make a valiant attempt to take dear Olive’s advice to sort out the dreams of my Stranger that ever plague me.

(I have heard tell of work by a man named Freud who claims dreams can be used to better understand someone’s psychology and potentially even relieve psychosis. He'd have a field day with me. May I never come within 400 miles of him.)

My drunk mind lacks creativity for scenery and so when I sleep this night I find myself in the same village square I was in only hours prior… however, I am back in time about 400 years? Long before the industrialization of the region, before the extermination of these old traditions by the expansion of “civilization.”

I have just won the silly harvest mare from the clutches of the other young men bringing the last of the harvest in, a horse-shaped horror made from the final stalks of grain reaped. I am now expected to try to sneak this rustling beast into the home where the bulk of the feast is being prepared by the womenfolk without one of them dousing me with washwater. If I succeed in getting into the kitchen unscathed I will win their finest beer and an honored seat at the feast-table. I am always up for new games.

(This is all Iwan’s fault for convincing me to accompany him home for the holiday yesterday and for me getting drunk while they all told me stories of the Old Days. Let it never be said that I abandon a friend in their time of need.)

I easily weave through the crowds of women and children, in their dresses and aprons and smocks, clothing I haven’t seen in centuries but are still as real as yesterday, and cross the kitchen threshold only to find the room empty. An empty kitchen except for the crackle of the hearthfire and my Stranger sat on a barrel in front of it. 

The large fire paints him in oranges and golds and he looks warm and inviting in a way that I have never experienced outside of my mind. It is the moment I know for certain that this is a dream. 

When he looks up to me he appears confused, brows drawn, lips parted. 

I am the first to speak, although words do not come easily to me. “What…?” After our parting in 1889 I can scarce understand why I am seeing him before me now. Although nightmares of the night plagued me in the months afterwards, I had been blessedly free of any night-time visits from my Stranger for almost a decade now. It has been an unexpected boon after so many years of dreaming of him more carnally. I know these facts within the dream. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t stand, cranes his neck back to look up at me, and I realize he has a low collar this night, lower than it had been even in 1489. I can see flame-gold arcing around the shadowed hollow of his throat.

“It is a Ysbrydnos.” He explains in perfect Welsh, as if I am some child. I do not question why I can so easily understand him despite my mediocre grasp of the language. It is a dream, after all. “Many call on me such nights.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes, ‘tis a Spirit Night and you a spirit.” 

He tilts his head to the side, bird-like and distinctly not human. “Not as such. But I will attend the dreams of many who call me here this night.” The Stranger’s voice is just as rich and decadent as it is in person. This detail my memory - traitorous bastard it is - does not neglect. 

“Of course. Even the version of you I make for my dreams gives non-answers and evasions.” I can feel my whole body hunch in defeat. I wrap my arms around myself, look to the floor. “Just why…” Even my dream cannot steady my voice. “Why does my mind show you to me now? Why this torment?”

“Ah.” Now his voice is choked and staccato. “You did not call me here yourself this night.” Perhaps he is surprised, or ashamed, I cannot tell. 

Still, I want to scream. “After last time…” I grit my teeth and continue to stare at the floor. 

I see the toes of his black shoes enter my field of view. His chest is perhaps a handspan from mine. “Do you truly wish to never dream of me?” This inquiry is a mocking echo of his usual question, but there is no mockery in his tone. “Given…" He shakes his head, unable to say the words. Say the words he should say: Given what I did to you… Instead he restarts the sentence, "It would be well within your right to request it.”

I sigh. He almost sounds remorseful. What a fantasy this is. How contrived. “No.” And if I ever doubted before that this was a dream the tiny bits of relief I see wash over my Stranger confirms it. His eyes soften minutely. His shoulders relax a hair's breadth. “This might be the only chance I have to ever see you again. And I would take the machinations of my mind, I would take delusions of your regard, over nothing.”

He hums, looking back to the fire as he takes a step away from me. I feel cold and bereft. “This dream is over.”

And then I woke up.

3: 

1 Nov 1898  I have not dreamed of him in six months. one year.         three years.         seven          ten          fifteen 

4:

25 May 1914

After almost 17 years I found myself dreaming of the White Horse last night and when I focused upon it in my mind’s eye I almost burst into tears.

Wait, Olive always said that this was more effective if I narrated as if I was reliving the dream. That I would get more details back that way.

I begin the dream standing outside the White Horse Inn and knowing that I am dreaming. It is the first time I have begun a dream this aware and therefore it is noteworthy. 

When I enter I feel his presence before I see it. Through the doors in the back, to the private room that had been set aside for us in 1789. He is once again in front of a fireplace, standing this time, hands clasped at the small of his back as he looks down into the flames. 

(Note: Ponder this pattern more later, that I associate him in dreams with fire.)

The door to the room automatically closes behind me and he turns. Despite the venue, he is dressed, as always, in the pinnacle of fashion. All black - of course - but a suit with long jacket and waistcoat and tie nonetheless. The ever-present ruby sits heavy and dark just below his throat.

“I did not intend the delay, Hob.” And doesn’t that throw me for a loop. I did not know prior to that moment that one could get dizzy in their own dreams. “I sometimes forget that time flows… differently… for you humans. But I did think on our last conversation.”

Thirty questions stampede through my mind at once. Everything from ‘Did he just directly admit that he is not human?’ to ‘Which last time?’ I throw all of these aside and instead opt for a cautiously lilted “And?”

A magnanimous wave of his hand and we are sitting, the same tea and sweets that were present in 1789 grace the table between us. I hold my breath. “Perhaps we can pick up, as much as we can, where we were in 1789 before the Lady Constantine interrupted us.” I am so taken aback by the turn this dream has taken that I cannot for the life of me think of what to say next. Luckily, my mind does not require me to as he continues. “I believe you asked my name.”

I almost fall over myself to give him leave to avoid it. “Only if you wish it.” Just don't leave again.

He smiles, something brighter than usual, and it feels like looking into the Sun. “I have a list of titles, which we can get to later, but the simplest name is Dream.”

I clamp down on the anguish that’s in my throat, but it still comes out as a high-pitched wheeze from between my teeth. “Dream?! DREAM?!?” I let myself slump boneless into the chair, impropriety be damned, and splay my legs out in front of me, hands over my face. “Oh fuck my mind and these GAMES. Why can it not send me sweet dreams of you? Of COURSE you are named Dream… you are a dream! Has my subconscious no creativity? Christ in heaven…”

“Hob!” He shouts. He has never shouted at me before. I look to him through my fingers, meet twilight-blue eyes. “My name is Dream of the Endless and I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

Shock, bright white and violent, runs through me and I quite literally fall out of my chair.

And then I wake up.

5:

26 May 1914

I do not think I have ever been more wrong about something in my long long life.

Fuck. 

My Stranger is Dream. He lords over dreams and nightmares. They are his Domain, his Kingdom. 

F U C K

I knew that he was something Other. But this. This. 

We met again last night, in my dreams. I don’t need to work at this anymore (thanks for trying, Olive) because he asked me last night if I wanted to remember this, remember meeting him. Apparently he has some manner of control over such things.

I told him yes. Of course I said yes. But I think I want to continue to keep track of what has happened, what will happen, in my dreams, here in this journal. If only so that I have something to refer to later when I have absolutely zero confidence that this is real. Some proof that I haven’t gone completely barmy. 

Last night we talked. Just talked. It was in a liminal space, barely distinct as containing a floor and walls and chairs. All monotone, in blacks and greys and faint whites. It still reminded me of the back room from 1789.

He - Dream - told me so much. More than he had ever said to me in one go ever before. He told me some of his other names: Lord Morpheus (or just Morpheus), Prince of Stories, Oneiros, Shaper of Forms. He has a kingdom, home to dreams and nightmares alike. They are not only his citizens, but he creates them. Creates!

I have so so many questions.

But I must parcel them out carefully. Each answer is a treasure I will hoard. 

I returned his generosity with words of my own.

[gabessquishytum]

more trans hob period sex thoughts, this time featuring the corinthian because i think it could be very funny. so! newly remade corinthian gets his first unchaperoned trip back to the waking as a reward for good behaviour, and he decides that the best use of the opportunity is definitely to go see his immortal fuckbuddy. and hob's thrilled to see him, he was... admittedly kind of worried about how long it had been since he'd seen him? but also dream's back and coming by more often and it's got hob absolutely desperate to get his back blown out, thanks. and he's even on his period, which always makes cori go absolutely wild(er than usual).

this time's no exception, hob tries for a bit of small talk but the second cori gets a good smell of him hob's in bed on his back with cori between his legs. no complaints from hob! at least not until there's a knock on his door.

because dream's been keeping an eye on the corinthian, naturally, and he's... a little worried and a lot confused about why his nightmare would go straight to hob when as far as dream knows, they've never met. so he goes to check, the corinthian can tell it's dream at the door and he's throughly annoyed about it, hob does not know it's dream and a minute after cori storms out of the bedroom hob's brain comes back online and realizes. fuck. answering the door with a face covered in blood. not ideal.

the corinthian very nearly gets unmade again when he answered the door covered in blood. it... doesn't exactly help when hob staggers out of the bedroom, boxers hasilty pulled on and not doing much to hide the bloody fingerprints all over his thighs and belly.

hob does manage to talk dream down. eventually. and then has to explain that yes, cori was welcome here. no, it wasn't the first time. hey what do you mean he's a nightmare. ("robbie, baby, you didn't think i was human, did you?" "what the fuck, of course i didn't, i'm not an idiot. i figured you were a vampire! you show up at night and i've never seen your eyes and you're obsessed with blood i think vampire was a reasonable assumption!?")

something something the corinthian takes off his glasses, hob remembers that he's still horny and hey he's actually more horny now, dream gets invited to join in, and hob learns that at just the right angle, cori can eat hob out and get one of his eye-mouths on his clit at the same time. which should probably be very very terrifying but actually just makes hob come so hard he blacks out for a second.

-🐈‍⬛

VERY amused and horny about this. I love the Corinthian just simply not realising The Implications of answering the door with his mouth covered in blood. Like, baby boy, even if it WASN'T Dream on the other side, you're gonna arouse one or two suspicions.

Also LOVE Dream lowkey going into suspicious parent mode when he sees Cori showing up at Hob’s place. He's trying not think the worst but the Corinthian is still very much a nightmare and it's not beyond the realms of possibility to imagine him targeting Dream’s literal only friend.

Meanwhile: Hob is just very tired and horny and he was really hoping for an orgasm or two, not a supernatural slanging match on his doorstep. He tells Dream and Cori that they can both come in and make him cum, or they can bugger off somewhere else.

They're both sensible enough to do as Hob says. They can both smell the blood and Hob’s other fluids twining together to make the most delicious scent, and eating him out sounds like the best idea right now.

Hob gets Dream’s lovely, big satisfying cock in his arse while Cori absolutely devours his cunt with all three mouths. He feels so full, like the empty crampy place inside has been perfectly filled up. And he's obsessed with the new sensation of Cori's two tiny tongues licking his clit and labia. He's got his hand tangled in Cori's hair while Dream gently bounces him up and down on his cock, and none of them can stop making noises of pure delight. Cori hasnt had such a good meal since he's been on probation in the dreaming, and he cums untouched purely from the taste of Hob’s cunt.

Hob promptly falls asleep when they're finished with him, and Dream and Cori can't exactly leave (they're being forcibly cuddled by their favourite human, what are they supposed to do?!), and they don't feel like fighting anymore... seems like a good idea to collaborate and see if they can make Hob cum in his sleep, right?

[kydrogendragon]

Hob learns to trust again?

This one's a 5+1 type fic (or at least, that's how I planned it) but after their 2022 meeting, Dream's like, "Yup! I do so love this man now and must do as I always do and shower him with affection and love and everything."

Hob, however is like, "Okay, hold on, slow down, I'm still getting used to the idea that you want to be my friend and aren't planning on storming out on me. Give me time, yeah?"

1.) It starts with Dream gifting a bouquet of flowers plucked from the Dreaming, delivered by himself. Hob, at first, takes it as a very kind gesture as his flat does need a bit of color and it’s only polite to bring round a gift when you’ve been invited over, right? The Endless have manners too, he supposed, and doesn’t think much of it beyond the fact that they’re downright gorgeous flowers.

2.) Then, just a day later, Dream whisks Hob from his usual dream to a wondrous picnic on an impossible grassy plain below the Pillars of Creation. Of course, Hob’s not going to turn down good food and an incredible view, even if it is a dream. Besides, Dream brought venison pastries, how could he say no? He thinks it’s just that Dream wants to show off his abilities since his friend has begun to share more of himself since he first came to the New Inn those few months back. But then he feels Dream’s hand atop his own, and sure, Hob’s not against some good ol’ platonic affection, but Dream’s never been one for that. They’ve barely even brushed fingers before and now he’s holding Hob’s hand in his own? Hob says nothing of it. Perhaps this is how Dream is when he feels comfortable. Hob feels conflicted at the quickening pace of his heart.

3.) A month later, Dream crafts a fanciful wooden spoon with detailed engravings depicting a raven, the sun, a heart, Celtic knots, and a horse (white horse tavern) on it. (Love Spoon, Welsh courting tradition from 17th century) Hob doesn’t officially know it’s from Dream, but it was laying on his pillow as he got ready for bed that night. He’d heard of this tradition, one of carving a wooden spoon for your future spouse. It was more a Welsh tradition than an English one, but he’d lived close enough in the 17th century to recognize the spoon for what it was.

4.) After Hob fell asleep that same night, Dream gives him a tour of his kingdom and gifts him a ring made of Dreamstuff to wear so that he may come into the Dreaming not as a Dreamer, but as his guest, whenever he wishes. Hob is stunned for a while, halfway taking everything in, but also because his best friend for millennia has just gifted him a ring. He’s in the process of thanking, but also refusing because, hello!  It’s a ring and the look in Dream’s star eye says that there’s a reason it’s a ring and not a bracelet or something else, but as he’s mid sentence, he’s pulled from the Dreaming by his alarm clock going off.

5.) When Hob seems hesitant to reciprocate in the same way, Dream has Matthew deliver a handwritten letter expressing Dream’s affection, all of which is incredibly sweet and Hob loves hearing it cause yeah, you know, there's a spot in his heart that's growing to love Dream. Especially now that he knows his name and what he is. But the memories of how their past meetings have been still lingers. The hurt still lingers.

1+) That’s when Hob has a Heart-To-Heart with his friend and basically tells him, "Listen, first and foremost, you are my friend and that will never change. The love I have for you in that regard will never go away. And there's a piece of me that's beginning to love you back the way you seem to love me, but darling, you've got every scrap of power in this relationship and you always have. I have no way to reach you, you can come and go at will, you only tell me what you feel is acceptable for me to know and I'm kept in the dark otherwise. So until you can prove it to me that you're serious here, that you want us to be a partners and all the equality that that entails, until you can prove that you trust me and that I can trust you, I can't accept this. I'm so sorry."

[hexenmond]

A dreamling fic idea

Haven't posted here in forever, and the first thing pouring out of me is a wild writing prompt I came up with today, having spent more than two months devouring dreamling fanfic (which is wild in itself, maybe I'll write about that as well. The devouring I mean).

Most of the idea comes from À Cœur Vaillant by WyvernQuill. It's a fishbowl rescue fic, but the one who does the actual rescuing is a still very young Alex Burgess, who in turn gets saved from his father's ire by Paul McGuire. So that's lovely. (Go read it!)

And in general I like it when people who have done shitty things come around at some point. Like Hob got involved in the slave trade and came to see just how wrong that was. Because we're humans, and we fuck up sometimes, and it can take us a long time to be able to see it – and then what happens? How do we deal with our own shittiness once it has irrevocably happened? Do we try to be better, or shy away from the mess?

So I thought, what if Dream's in the bowl, and Alex shoots Jessamy, and old Roderick dies, and Alex is left with a prisoner he never wanted but is too cowardly to set free (canon so far). And Paul tells him it's wrong, repeatedly, but is a coward himself, so nothing actually changes.

But some time before 1989, Paul McGuire finds it within himself to put his foot down – and there are several interesting things that could make this change of heart happen. Possibly a coincidental chat with a certain immortal about regrets, or just some life event that shakes him awake. And he goes to Alex and says, hey, this is wrong and can't go on. In your heart of hearts, you know that as well as I do. We should free him, even if that means we'll die. We aren't free while he is not free.

And Alex protests and all of course, and tries to talk him out of it again, and panics, and flips his shit – but when Paul is still determined after some days and takes him by the hand to go downstairs, he goes along. Scared to death, but between knowing Paul is right and loving him, he doesn't fight.

So Paul stands before the fishbowl, scared but determined, holding Alex next to him, who is on the verge of collapsing, and he addresses Dream, basically saying something along the lines of "we should have done this straight after the old codger died, and we didn't out of cowardice, but now we're going to set you free, and hope that you have some mercy on us for this". And he breaks the circle and the glass, or whatever it takes.

Now, this might happen just very shortly before Dream's scheduled meeting with Hob, and like I've read in a couple of other fics, Dream might have been agonising over having to miss this appointment. So getting to go after all might just temper his wrath the teensiest bit, if not immediately then maybe at a later point.

I can see this going two ways at this point: he takes great pleasure in trapping Alex in eternal nightmares for killing Jessamy, the guards as well for good measure, but he leaves Paul unscathed for being the driving force behind his release and doing it before June 7th, 1989. And then he storms off to find his tools and sulk and get ready for his not-date.

Or, he does that but Paul has already geared himself up to be incredibly brave that day and so dares to ask what Dream has done to Alex, and Dream says "best of my nightmares around the clock", and Paul takes one deep breath and then begs him to split the nightmares between them both, so that they would share nightmares every night but still be awake together during the day. And Dream says, oh well, your funeral, and makes it so, and then storms off.

In both cases Paul is very miserable (nightmares every night forever is bound to leave you permanently sleep-deprived, or else he has to live with Alex's screams and permasleep). And at some point he might speak to Hob. Again, bundle of possible scenarios:

he'd talked to Hob before (see above) and they have some previous acquaintance;

he just washes up in The New Inn like a commoner and starts drinking, and Hob is a barkeeper with many years of experience;

they might talk while Dream is still picking up his tools and before the appointment, or afterwards.

And at some point Hob makes some connection, depending on this and also how open Dream is after his imprisonment.

Since I personally feel that revenge does not bring lasting satisfaction, let alone joy, I could see Hob helping Dream grieve Jessamy, and also appreciate the understanding he gained while in involuntary timeout. And maybe he relents after some time, maybe because he took a good look at Alex and Paul's nightmares. Or gives them a task to accomplish.

The end? I don't know. Depends on the story you want to tell, who and what it's really about. But I like the premise, is what I wanted to say.

[wolfgirl-valentine]

Dreamling Week 2023 Friday 9 - Confession

(A continuation of Day 7 submit)

After Matthew flew away they were left in a very uncomfortable silence, only cut occasionally by Hob coughing.

Dream was again looking at his hands as if they held the secrets of the universe,  Hob waited for him to deny his raven's statement, but when this didn't happen Hob took a deep breath(or as deep as his poor burned throat let him).

“so” he suppressed another cough “a date?” he tried to sound casual but between his injury and the surprise he sounded a little strangled

Dream closes his eyes and sighs heavily, regretting the promise he made to Hob of not leaving in the middle of their conversations unless is a real emergency (as in, the universe is in danger emergency) 

“I apologize Hob, I’ll understand if you want our meetings to be every 100 years again, or if you want them to stop altogether”  

“What?? NO! fuck, Dream look at me” he didn’t  sound upset, but then again, his voice is deeply affected by his earlier accident.

Dream takes a deep breath he doesn't really need, before looking at Hob, only to gasp in surprise at Hob's expression, a big smile and soft eyes.

“There you are, now listen to me please” He reaches to take his hands over the table “I’m not upset to learn you want to be more than friends, I only would have liked to know by your own words and not by your raven ratting on you” 

Dream looks at him astonished, surely he doesn't mean…

“Would you be…amenable to be courted by me?”

“Oh Dream, I would loved nothing more in at least the last three hundred years”

“Then why you did not say anything?”

Hob winced with a pained smile “I was afraid of making you storm out on me again”

Dream didn't flinch, exactly, but it was something close, he tried to retrieve his hands, but Hob clenched them.

“Hey no, I already told you, that's all in the past, we both make mistakes that night, don't let it prevent us of making a good choice now”

“My love has proven to be a calamity for mortals in the past” a voice inside him was screaming for him to shut up, but Hob needed to know what he was getting into.

“Well, good thing I’m immortal right?”

“I do not think that is how it works”

“Even so, I think I have proven in the past to be a stubborn idiot when I really want something”

“And what do you want now?”

“I want to love you…if you let me”

Dream feel breathless again, at how Hob makes it sound like the most natural thing in the world.

“I…may be amenable to let you”

Hob's smile gets even brighter, and reaching out he puts his hand on Dream cheek, which makes him let out a little gasp, before melting on the caress, like a cat.

“Would you let me kiss you?

“Please” It would be embarrassing the quickness of his response, but he can’t care less when Hob si moving towards him, stopping briefly as of to let him back track if he wanted, but Dream have found to be weak when is about Hob, and so he cross the last distance to press their lips together.

Suddenly centuries of tension between them broke free, and not much time passed before the kiss had turned frantic, Hob hands burying in his hair, moving him in a better position to deepen the kiss.

It feels too soon when they need to part, both panting, one of Hob hands has moved to his coat, clenching on its lapel,  and he lets go and tries to smother it in vain.

“Alright, I think you are indeed in another place”

“Hm” his palpable displeasure makes Hob chuckle

“Tell you what, you go and attend whatever ‘dream’ business you are needed for, and meanwhile I go and prepare to make a dinner for two back at my apartment?”

“I think it is a good course of action”

“It's a date then” Hob gives him another quick kiss, before letting him go, with promises of making up for all the time they have been oblivious fools.

Dream finally forces himself to return to the Dreaming, he has duties to attend and a raven to thank.

And later, a date.

(I have a diferent idea for today, but @hsdreamling wondered what happened with this two after Matthew escaped, hope this its at least enjoyable!)

(english is still not my first lenguage)

[heartsoulrocknroll]

AEW Collision 4/20/24

Nigel on Copeland winning the TNT Championship. "If at first you don't succeed, try again and again and again and again until you are finally able to steal what is rightfully someone else's." Lmao.

Adam Copeland, Mark Briscoe, and Eddie Kingston vs. Top Flight and Action Andretti -- Some nice exploder suplexes by Mark. Flippy stuff from Top Flight and Andretti. Dumb spot with all six guys colliding with lariats at the same time. Copeland with an impaler DDT. Mark with a Jay Driller on Darius. Backfist by Eddie, spear by Copeland, Froggy Bow by Mark on Dante, then Eddie covers Dante for the pinfall.

I honestly didn't like this at all. Technically, it was fine. But everyone was in the ring at the same time for a lot of the match, and that bothers me a lot more when the action is lackluster or not my taste like this. Rating: 2.5

House of Black show up on the screen after the match. Matthews says HOB will eradicate all their dreams at Dynasty. Black says HOB will dig so deep that they will feel like they are close to hell. And for people like himself and Copeland, hell is where the heart is.

Powerhouse Hobbs vs. CJ Esparza -- Hobbs squshes Esparza with slams on the apron and a torture rack. The ref stops the match. Rating: SQUASH

Callis on the mic. He says he was directly responsible for Omega winning the IWGP Heavyweight Championship. He says he was also responsible for the biggest match in the history of Japanese wrestling, Jericho/Omega at the Tokyo Dome in 2018, which set New Japan on a course to new heights and success, which they still enjoy to this day. He says when New Japan thanked him for this, he said he would need a favor in return one day. And he has cashed in all his favors to make Moxley vs. Hobbs next week a match the IWGP World Heavyweight Championship. That is so stupid. Hate that.

Jericho promo backstage. He apologizes for his conduct on Wednesday and for pushing Taz. He mentions his match with Hook for the FTW Championship at Dynasty. He says the Learning Tree is going to teach Hook one of the hardest lessons he will have to learn. A lesson in humility and losing something that means a lot to you.

The Gunns vs. The Acclaimed -- The Gunns try to leave, but Schiavone tells them that TK said they won't get their match at Dynasty tomorrow if they walk out tonight. Awkward. The Acclaimed jump them and land Scissor Me Timbers early on. Bowens with some nice rolling elbows, a fireman's carry neckbreaker on the knee, then a running knee on Colten for two. Colten lands a Fameasser on Bowens for two. The Gunns land a neckbreaker on Bowens for two. Caster tags in with a DVD on Colten. The Gunns land 3:10 to Yuma on Bowens, but Caster breaks up the pin with an elbow off the top. Colten rolls Bowens up and Jay hands him the bat and holds on for leverage for the pinfall.

This was a perfectly fine match. A lot better than I expected it to be, but still not really exciting in any way. Good, screwy finish. Rating: 3

Danielson interview backstage. He is asked about the Bunkhouse Brawl tonight and the match with Ospreay tomorrow. He says that sounds like a lot, but he feels alive. It seems like something is going on with the Don Callis Family. He wonders if Callis doesn't have quite as much faith in Ospreay as he says he does. He feels alive, because Takeshita dropped him on his head Wednesday, and tonight he gets to get revenge in a bunkhouse match. And tomorrow he gets to test himself against Ospreay, who calls himself one of the best in the world, and he gets to find out for himself. Ospreay comes in and tells Danielson that he has had nothing to do with any of the things the rest of the Callis Family has been doing. He says he wants Danielson at 100% for their match. Danielson says right. Ospreay says come on, Danielson has to believe him.

Excellent promo by Danielson as usual. Love to hear that man talk.

Toni Storm promo from Wednesday after Thunder Rosa's attack is shown. She wants to leave this in full color, so everyone can see exactly what Rosa has done to her. Rosa wants to be a hero? Wants to be a martyr? Wants to rally up the troops? There is nothing more disgusting than a wrestler who says they are not selfish. This is a business, this is not a charity. If Rosa wanted to uplift women, she should have stayed a social worker. Rosa doesn't want this title because she used to hold it. She wants it because of everything Storm made this title be, when Rosa could not. Rosa basks in the glow of the sun that shines right out of her ass. Rosa wants to drag her soul to hell? Rosa better check the address, sweetheart, because hell is in her bedroom and she makes love to her demons every night, and at Dynasty, Rosa can just watch.

Holy SHIT, what a promo. I am legit losing my mind over this. Hilarious, but serious at the same time. Legendary, career-defining promo.

Bryan Danielson and Claudio Castagnoli vs. Konosuke Takeshita and Kyle Fletcher (Bunkhouse Brawl) -- Fletcher and Takeshita jump Danielson and Claudio during their entrance. Claudio runs down the arena stairs with a lariat to Fletcher! Danielson slams Fletcher's head into the announce table! Takeshita takes a hammer to Claudio! Danielson wraps a cord around Fletcher's neck! Claudio swings Takeshita into a dropkick by Danielsion! Claudio locks in a Sharpshooter on Takeshita. Fletcher hurls a chair at Danielson's head, then lands something on Claudio inside. Fletcher with a thrust kick and a powerbomb on Claudio for two! Danielson is busted open, and Takeshita takes his fingers to the open wound. Fletcher nails Claudio with a hammer repeatedly. Fletcher hurls a chair at Claudio. Danielson and Takeshita trade elbows inside, Takeshita gets the best of it, sending Danielson outside. Takeshita goes for a brainbuster on the ramp again, but Danielson reverses into a DDT on the ramp! Claudio takes the hammer to Fletcher, then hurls him into the barricade, then slams his head into the steps repeatedly! Now Fletcher is bleeding. Claudio drapes Takeshita over the rope and holds him while Danielson lands a knee off the top to the back of his head/neck. Round kicks from Danielson to Takeshita, then a big round kick to the head! Danielson sets up for the Busaiku knee, but Fletcher grabs his foot from outside, and Takeshita lands a Helluva kick! Takeshita lands a German suplex on Claudio. Stereo brainbusters by Fletcher and Takeshita, then double covers for two. Takeshita goes for a rolling elbow with a steel chain around his arm, but Danielson blocks.

Double rear naked chokes, then stereo hammer and anvil elbows by Claudio and Danielson, then they transition into stereo LeBell locks! Hobbs comes in with spinebusters! Moxley comes out bald as hell to even the odds and take out Hobbs. Fletcher hands Danielson to Takeshita on the top, and Takeshita goes for a powerbomb onto a chair, but Danielson reverses into a rana off the top on Takeshita, sending him back-first onto a chair!!!! Geez! Claudio lands uppercuts and a lariat on Fletcher with a chain wrapped around his arm!! Claudio lands a senton off the apron on Takeshita outside! Danielson lands the Busaiku knee and locks in the LeBell lock with the chain around Fletcher's face for the submission!

That slapped!!!!!! Nonstop, violent action!! Perfect mix of outside-the-ring brawling, weapon spots, and inside-the-ring wrestling. I loved it all. Rating: 4

Danielson grabs a mic after the match. He says a lot of people are asking him why the hell he is doing a bunkhouse match the night before he wrestles Ospreay. It's because when some people think of heaven, they think of streets of gold, but that's not him. His spirit is a part of this. When he dies, his heaven will be standing in this ring, bleeding in front of all these people, having a whole crew of people trying to break his neck before he wrestles one of the best in the world, and telling them there's no way they can do it!! "Tomorrow, Will Ospreay, I am going to beat your ass." HELL YEAH!!!! There is nothing like a fired up Danielson promo. Cannot wait for this match!

Willow and Statlander promo backstage with Stokely. Statlander says you know what they are? Fired up. Fired up is long for FU. Stokely says where he comes from, FU means something different, so he will say FU to Brody and Julia. Willow asks if a confident champion takes a chain and hits their opponent days before a championship match? She doesn't think so. Willow says she is going to lift Julia up and powerbomb her through that mat. Because tomorrow, she's taking the TBS Championship, you bitch! Lol, this was good.

Skye Blue vs. Leyla Hirsch -- Hirsch reverses a Code Blue attempt into a running knee strike. Blue lands a hanging neckbreaker off the apron. Big elbows by Hirsch, then Blue with one of her own. Blue cartwheels into an elbow in the corner. Hirsch lands two nice suplexes, then a German suplex off the top! Hirsch goes to the top and falls. Blue lands a fireman's carry neckbreaker, then locks in a dragon sleeper for the submission. Short match, but solid action. Rating: 2.75

Kazuchika Okada and The Young Bucks vs. Pac and FTR -- Okada's arm hits the announce table early on. Okada and Dax trade uppercuts and elbows! Pac locks in the Brutalizer on Okada, but the Bucks break it up with stomps. Pac slams Okada's head into the apron and stomps on his throat on the floor!!! Nice!!! Okada and Matt pull Cash crotch-first into the ring post. Okada lands a slingshot senton over the ropes on Cash inside. Pac runs the ropes and lands a beautiful flying elbow, then a series of hard kicks, then a brainbuster on Nick for two! Pac lands a quick German suplex on Okada, then dives over the ropes onto the Bucks outside. Dax and Pac land an assisted spike piledriver on Okada for two! The Bucks stop a Black Arrow attempt by Pac, and Okada nails Pac with a big boot. Okada holds the ref, while the Bucks shove Pac into the ring steps and pummel him outside on the floor. They roll Pac inside, and Okada lands a nice flapjack. Pac with a vicious tilt-a-whirl backbreaker on Nick! Beautiful!!! Dax comes in with big jabs, a lariat, and nasty chops to Nick! Dax slingshots Nick off the ropes into Pac's hands, and Pac lands a German suplex, then Cash flies in with a jacknife on Nick for two! Nice sequence!!!! Dax ducks a superkick by Matt, Matt kicks Nick instead, Dax lands a DDT on Matt, then Okada comes in with a DDT on Dax!

Okada tells Dax to hit him!! Dax responds with vicious elbows to the jaw and chops to the chest! Okada dropkicks Dax! Dax ducks a Rainmaker attempt and locks in a Sharpshooter, but the Bucks break it up with superkicks!! Triple team running back elbow and double enziguris in the corner by Okada and the Bucks! Okada lands a neckbreaker on the knee, Nick lands a running knee strike, and Matt lands an elbow off the top on Dax and covers, but Cash breaks up the pin! Dax lands a superplex, Cash lands a frog splash off the top, and Pac lands a 450 off the top on Matt! Cash covers, but the others break up the pin! Superkicks by the Bucks, then they land Shatter Matchine on Pac for two! The Bucks land a BTE Trigger on Pac, but Cash breaks up the pin! FTR land Shatter Machine on Matt, but Okada and Nick pull Dax out of the ring. Superkick by Nick, and DDT on the floor by Okada!! Cash with a topé to the outside! Pac lands the Black Arrow on Matt inside for the pinfall!!

This was a really great match. Constant action from start to finish. I loved the exchanges between Okada and Pac, and cannot wait for their match at Dynasty. But I also loved the exchanges between Okada and Dax! What a nice, unexpected treat. Rating: 4

Okada and the Bucks try to attack Pac and FTR after the match. Daniel Garcia comes out to help Pac and FTR. Pac jumps on Okada's back with a hanging Brutalizer!! Okada drops to the mat, and Pac holds on until the Bucks pull Okada out of the ring! Pac and Okada stare at each other, Pac in the ring and Okada on the ramp!!! I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS MATCH!!! AAAAHHH!!

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Not to be 'that bitch' but I'm gonna be.......Part 10 of the foursome? Perhaps sometime soon? I KNOW you were finishing it up earlier K I LOVE YOU BYEEEEEEEE 💛💛💛💛

Aren’t you just the luckiest little bug! I’ve been on a writing spree since I have finally been a good girl and charted out the entire end of the foursome. Clap and a half for meeee! 

Here is part 10 for you all! 

——————————————————————————————

PART 10

Y/N

While she would never admit it to any of the boys, especially Duncan…Jerome was an absolute dream. There was nothing that grossed him out or was too much of an inconvenience. He helped Y/N with her morning sickness, made her whatever she was craving to eat and even gave her a foot-rub last night. 

For the most of it, Duncan held his tongue. His hours had only increased as the Media Mogul worked overtime to make-up for the hiatus he took. Y/N would often find Duncan slumped over a stack of paperwork, the man only stirring when she runs her fingers gently through his hair, took his hand and led the way to bed. Y/N slept with Duncan. That was a non negotiable agreement and sometimes the only moments when they would see each other in the day. Y/N would be curved into Duncan’s chest, the little spoon while his hand rests protectively over her stomach, which was only getting bigger with each passing month. But despite Duncan’s best efforts, Y/N saw the resentment in his eyes last night. The way his eyes roved over her bump, her smile lazy with ease as Jerome worked out the tension in the ball of her foot. 

He’d gone straight to bed without a word, forcing Y/N to sneak in after him in the middle of the night. The bed was empty when she woke, as usual. But unlike every other morning, the was no breakfast wafting from the kitchen. 

Making her way into the kitchen, there sits Duncan at the breakfast bar, a coffee in one hand and the paper on the counter. He’s got his reading glasses on, a new development from staring at screens too long. 

They suit him. Give him that wise boss look as Duncan smirks at her, ‘Morning.’ 

‘You’re not at work?’ 

‘Took the day off.’ Duncan’s clearly proud of himself, ‘You have a big appointment today.’ 

Y/N grabs a croissant, ‘Jerome is happily taking me. You didn’t need to cancel work, I know you have a big deal closing.’ 

‘I want to be there.’ Duncan has that stubborn tone in his voice, the one you cannot argue with. 

Y/N takes a seat opposite him. ‘It won’t be pretty. They’re going to have to check me everywhere. Do the ultrasound and if things have taken a bad turn…’ 

Duncan’s hand slides across the table to take hers, ‘I’ll be right there with you.’ She can feel the tears welling in her eyes. Duncan regards her with such open honesty, such love in his eyes. ’Don’t you dare start feeling guilty again.’ He continues, ‘I’m okay. I’ve…dealt with it. Our arrangement is pretty good at the minute, wouldn’t you say.’

‘I feel like I can breathe for the first time in a while, yes.’ Y/N squeezes his hand, ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss seeing Jim playing Xbox in the mornings, or Michael walking about in just a towel, his hair in a bun-‘

‘It’s just not the best idea right now.’ 

Y/N has to agree. While Michael and Jim are more than eager to spend time with her, to keep her company and dote on her every need, them together is just a powder keg. Jim is still hurting, badly. His lips spit vitriol every time they crossover, his eyes dark and full of snide comments. Michael does his best to let them all slide off, but Y/N still caught him crying in the elevator on his way out of the lobby. He never saw her, but Y/N’s heart aches every time she thinks of him, alone with his thoughts. 

Both of them…cannot really be alone. 

‘This appointment has to go well.’ She murmurs, seeking Duncan’s eyes. 

‘Have faith then.’ 

‘A croissant is not nearly enough for a Mom with two babies on the way.’ Jerome breezes into the kitchen, still in his pyjamas. He sets to work turning on the hob and cracking open some eggs. ‘Now I can do scrambled, poached, fried or an omelette. We’ll go omelette, more protein there for you.’ 

‘I don’t think we’ll have time, Jerome.’ Duncan watches him, ‘We’re leaving in twenty.’ 

Jerome wheels round, only just realising Duncan is in the room. ‘You’re….home?’

‘I do that sometimes.’  

Jerome nods, ’It’s fine, I just…’

‘Wanted to make Y/N an omelette.’ Duncan leans back on his stool, ready to play the game. ‘You’ve been a great help, Jerome. You’ve really been there for Y/N.’

‘Duncan.’ Y/N’s voice turns to ice, ‘Do not.’ 

Jerome takes the pan off the heat, ‘She’s a good friend. I want to give her all the support I can.’

‘She has plenty.’ 

‘Of course she does.’

Duncan stands at once, ‘What does that mean?’

Y/N dumps her croissant in the bin and heads to grab a coat. The macho fight was inevitable, but that doesn’t mean she has to stick around to hear the egos go at it again. The voice fade away as she buttons up her Rain Mac, the buttons straining from her large bump. Y/N rolls out her shoulders a couple times, feeling the usual nags and aches from carrying so much extra weight and returns to the kitchen. 

‘You’re all fighting over Y/N like she’s some prize to be won. You’ve even divided up the damn apartment, there’s visiting hours for the daddies, but who’s stopping to think about what Y/N wants?’ 

She stops dead upon entering the kitchen. Duncan and Jerome are inches apart. 

‘Say that again.’ Duncan’s practically spitting in Jerome’s face. 

‘We’re leaving.’ Y/N calls over, ‘Now. Duncan.’ 

Duncan extracts himself from the situation, his eyes never leaving Jerome. The Salesman stands tall, his arms folded over each other. ‘You think about that.’ Jerome calls, ‘You start putting Y/N first or I’m taking her out of this shit-storm.’

‘No one is putting me anywhere I don’t want to be.’ Y/N wheels back to glower at Jerome, ‘Thank you for your honesty. You’re right, Jerome. But I need them while I’m going through this. After the babies are born…that’s a different matter.’ 

Y/N swings her bag over her shoulder and calls the elevator. She steps in, not bothering to wait for Duncan. HE slips inside just in time, eyes wide and out of breath. ‘What the fuck do you mean by that?’ 

————————————————————————————

JIM

He rolls the car keys between his fingers. Jim’s focus is on the penthouse apartment, and then back to the streets. He didn’t miss them did he? 

No. He’s been vigilant. 

Jim checks his phone and there’s nothing. No new texts or missed calls…not even a software update. 

He has to know and Jim is already highly offended no one has bothered to call him. His stomach has been in knots for weeks, he can’t eat, he can rarely sleep. Not while that monster could be sucking the life out of his child. 

Jim will not let that happen. 

The car pulls up and Duncan steps out first. He offers his hand to Y/N who struggles to emerge gracefully from the car. She stumbles a little, but Duncan’s got her safe. 

He always does. 

They talk for a moment outside, perhaps discussing their next move. Jim’s fingers itch towards the door handle, to surprise them and demand to know the outcome of the appointment. But he bides his time as Duncan kisses Y/N’s cheek and then makes his way into the lobby. 

Y/N seems to dawdle, as if waiting for someone. 

Michael.

Jim holds his breath, waiting for the Antichrist to skulk out of his shadows and speak to her. But no one comes, Y/N pulls her coat tighter round her and Jim notices it’s new. The old one was just beginning to strain. Of course Duncan noticed something like that. He can’t have Y/N looking like she’s struggling at all, not when he can pour handfuls of money down her throat. 

Y/N’s head turns and looks directly at him. 

Jim swallows.

Shit. 

She makes her way across the road and knocks on the car window. Jim rolls it down, trying his best to remain cool. ‘You gonna hide in your car all day?’

‘I thought you were waiting on someone else.’ 

Y/N rests a hand against the car for some leverage, ‘I know you, Jim. You’re desperate enough to stalk the house and you have every right to.’ 

Jim hates her calling him desperate, but he can’t help himself. ‘So…?’

‘Michael’s child is larger at the moment.’ Y/N reports, ‘Our baby is the…runt I guess you could call it.’  

‘Fantastic.’ 

‘But the danger doesn’t seem to be there.’ Y/N continues quickly, ‘We’re just…going to monitor it. I’ve got appointments every two weeks just to be sure. The Doctor thought we were a little crazy but Duncan gave him enough money to schedule us in.’ 

Y/N’s leaning over so her hair spills down her chest. God he’s missed her. It just isn’t the same when Duncan or Jerome are around to supervise their visits. Jim just wants an hour alone with Y/N. Is that too much to ask for?  

‘Do you…regret it?’

Y/N takes in a deep breath, ‘No. Michael….I think he needed this. After everything he’s been through, family should be something positive for him. I’m not taking that away from him.’ 

‘I meant joining this.’

‘This?’

‘Whatever the fuck we are,’ Jim emphasises. His fingers tighten on his car keys. He’s running out of time if he wants to do something. Y/N searches him with those eyes he adores. The way the light catches in them from this angle… 

She pushes away from the car, ’Don’t you dare start spouting this shit. You didn’t have to join either, you could have turned me down flat at the beach. You didn’t have to pay for my ice-cream or agree to meet Duncan and Michael. You made those decisions yourself, Jim. And I am done feeling guilty and responsible for just trying to live my life.’ 

Her fingers run through her hair, Y/N anger distracting her just enough. There’s no one around. If Jim is going to act, he needs to do it now. Jim opens the car door, ‘No I didn’t have to do any of the nice shit I have done for you over the years. I didn’t even have to take you to PV. I panicked, okay? I saw Duncan’s shit and I just panicked and did what I do best. I run. I ran from my Mom after rehab, I ran from University when I couldn’t afford it. That’s what I do.’ Jim’s hand slides into his back pocket, for the cloth ready and waiting. ‘I wanted to get to know you, not the others. But we sat in that diner and we all got close, we all got on and they reeled me in. Despite everything I’m here, completely dependent on you. You’re the mother of my child, my baby who is in danger, Y/N. I’m here still trying to make things work with you because I can’t ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’ 

He takes a cautious step forwards, right as Y/N steps back. ‘I’m going upstairs.’ She says, ‘I am going to run a bath, put on some damn candles and get some Taco Bell with Duncan and Jerome. If you can join us and be okay with this situation…maybe there’s a chance for us. But you do what you want Jim. I’m not gonna tell anyone what to do.’ 

Y/N crosses the street quickly, looking over her shoulder once to check if he’s going to join. 

Jim hesitates, the fabric tickling the pads of his fingers. He tosses the cloth back into the car and locks up, quickly running over and sliding his arm round her waist. Jim calls the elevator, hoping to God he made the right decision. 

No more games. 

No more underhanded tactics. 

He’ll pour the chloroform down the sink the second he gets back to the hotel. 

———————————————————————————

DUNCAN

If there is one good reason for having Jerome around, it would be his cooking. For a guy on the road, the Travelling Salesman can make a mean steak. Duncan heaps Bordelaise sauce on top, nearly drinking right from the gravy boat itself. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you went to culinary school.’ 

‘Who says I didn’t?’ Jerome replies, the corner of his lip tugging. 

‘It’ll be that time spent in France.’ Y/N concludes, ’Though what you were doing there-’

‘I’d be in breech of many contracts if I told you.’ Jerome answers quickly, his eyes twinkling. 

‘Government shit?’ Duncan concludes. 

‘Maybe.’ 

‘Black market goods,’ Y/N guesses. 

Duncan could swear that twinkle just grew slightly bigger, ‘Now that’s more like me wouldn’t you say?’ 

Jim has hardly touched his food. He seems incapable of communicating much at all, he just watches Y/N most of the time. He’s addicted, drunk on her and the news of his baby is only cementing Jim’s psyche. If Y/N wasn’t Jim’s world before, she is now. 

In the three months that have passed, Duncan has been Switzerland. The go between. He’s listened to Jim’s rants, the pent-up rage and witnessed just how carefully he helps Y/N. Duncan has caught Jim talking to Y/N’s bump when she’s fallen asleep on the couch, unable to detach from her. On the other hand, Duncan has talked Michael off the ledge, stopped the Antichrist from using him magic. Duncan has had no choice but to placate Michael, to promise him that no matter what, his baby will be born. 

But where does this leave him? 

Y/N’s hand rests in his atop the table, a fact Jim has been eying throughout the night. Jerome continues to tell story and story of his time in Venezuela, Morocco, Haiti. He gestures wildly, an entertainer and Duncan is reminded of the circus at once. Jerome is quiet, poised and observant but when he’s talking about what he loves, the man comes to life. For the first time in a while, there’s peace at the dinner table. 

About time too. Duncan couldn’t take another fucking takeout. 

He cleans up the plates, pushing his reading glasses back up his nose. He checks the stack of work emails for anything urgent, but it seems fate has smiled on him tonight. A night in with the people he loves, such a rarity these days. 

‘If you leave the plates to soak for a while in hot water, it’s easier to get the food off.’ 

Jerome stands in the doorway, watching Duncan with a smirk. 

‘I know how to wash up.’ Duncan says, ‘Not incompetent.’ 

‘No you aren’t.’

Duncan’s getting slightly more used to Jerome’s presence round the apartment. Ever since their bust-up Duncan’s been doing some thinking. He had nothing else to do while in the car with Y/N. But that doesn’t mean he likes having him here. ‘Don’t you have something better to do than critique how I do things? Isn’t there a hot water bottle for you to prepare, a bed to make or something.’ 

Jerome chuckles, ‘I got all that finished earlier. Unlike most people I find housework rather…relaxing.’ 

‘You’re so weird.’ 

‘It focuses me.’ Jerome explains, ‘De-stresses me so I can think about better, more exciting things.’ 

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Duncan bites back, ‘I had a maid all my childhood.’ 

‘And you’ve got a Nanny now.’

‘Apparently.’ 

Duncan drops the plates in the sink, eager to be out of the awkward environment. He needs to talk to Jim, to clear the air or…make-up for lost time. He needs to do something to make the Beach Boy feel more at home while he’s here. 

‘If you’re asking for his blessing, you’d better lift his mood a little.’ 

Duncan freezes. 

‘I’ve done an alright job.’ Jerome continues, ‘But I’m not family.’ Duncan remains glued to the spot. His heart has jumped up to his throat, gagging any word from coming out. His glasses slip again and he shoves him into his pocket as Jerome approaches. ‘I truly didn’t mean to see it, sport. Y/N wanted one of your shirts to wear and I found it in the bottom drawer.’ 

‘My boxers are in that drawer.’ 

Jerome nods, ‘My mistake.’ 

He can’t say anything. Duncan’s mortified. He had it all planned out, the perfect moment and the perfect setting. All he had to do first was speak to Jim, Michael had already given his permission the last time they spoke. He takes a shaky step, before Jerome calls him back again. ‘Out of the three of you…if it had to be one of you, I’m glad it’ll be you.’ 

‘She has to say yes.’ Duncan’s voice is a murmur, a terrified little whisper. ‘Jim has to be good with it.’

Jerome sidles past him, ‘Well…I think Y/N’s going to do what she wants. No matter who is upset, or who gets hurt along the way.’ He pats Duncan on the shoulder, ‘I wouldn’t worry, sport.’ 

There’s a horrid feeling of something hanging in the air. Jerome leaves the kitchen and launches into another story; Duncan can hear him from where he stands. He sags against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jim’s laugh rises into the air, so distinctive, so full of life. 

Duncan misses that sound. 

He always thought if there would be anyone Duncan would commit himself to, it’d be the floppy-haired, bronzed boy in the other room. But over the past months… 

Michael has a child coming.

Jim has a child coming.

The least they can give him, is Y/N hand in marriage. 

—————————————————————————————-

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[gabessquishytum]

'I know those eyes/ this man is dead' with Hob being Mercedes and Dream being Edmond. They see each other in a supernatural reunion/group meeting before Dream has the chance to see Hob after his escape from the fishbowl.

That's it.

That's the ask 🤡

---

🦩

Ohhh this is wild!!! I love it!!! The Count of Monte Cristo is such a vibe. And this song!!! It works so well for dreamling!!!

Hob: I know those eyes, following me, dark and familiar, deep as the sea... in eyes so familiar, a stranger I see, with so many words left to say...

Dream: This man is dead, he is no more. Like a thief [Fawney Rigg] has stolen him away... you are confused, the man you seek is long gone.

Fortunately I think Hob is too stubborn to let Dream get away without an explanation for where he's been for the last 133 years - He is definitely angry that Dream is apparently alive and well but just,,, didn't want to see him? But he doesn't storm out and he of course breaks down immediately when he finds out what has happened to his friend. And he feels so bad for forcing Dream to explain when he obviously wasn't ready to relive that trauma.

I would like to think that Dream gets a big Hob-hug. It wouldn't fix everything, but it would be a good start.

[gabessquishytum]

just because i love a side of angst with my uh. everything. the thing that always gets me about sub!hob acting out is that i feel like whenever he's misbehaving or pushing boundaries there's always a part of him that's, on some level, back in that alley in 1889 watching dream walk away. whenever he starts feeling at all insecure there's always a part of him that thinks it's only a matter of time until he does something bad enough that dream will leave again, and he could wait around for it to happen or he could try to get it over with, and he usually opts for trying to get it over with. so he acts out, dream punishes him and then cares for him after, and hob's reassured that dream won't leave, at least until the cycle starts up all over again.

and maybe that continues until hob does something serious enough to cause an actual problem for dream or puts hob in serious danger or something. dream's angry enough that he can't punish hob right away, he knows he doesn't have the control he needs just now and he's bound to go too far, so he leaves hob safely tucked away in his flat with clear orders to stay there and wait until dream comes back to deal with him.

and hob is devastated. he's fully convinced that he's done it this time, he's fucked up badly enough that this is it, if dream comes back at all it'll only be to tell him that they're done, and if he's very, very lucky and he begs enough maybe dream will agree to see him in a hundred years. dream, of course, has no idea. until he feels himself pulled to hob's nightmares. because hob's dreaming of him, of the look on dream's face in 1889, except this time it's dream storming out of hob's flat and leaving hob naked on his bed.

and then of course because happy endings are critical. dream immediately wakes hob up and follows him into the waking so he can hold him and kiss him and promise that no matter how angry he is, he won't leave. he left hob once and he'll regret that for the rest of his existence and he will never, never do it again. (and hob still gets punished, of course, because they both need it. but after that hob sticks to being a brat in ways that are fun for both of them.)

-🐈‍⬛

I HAVE to talk about this real quick before I go to sleep bc omg. You punched me in the chest with this.

I feel like Hob oscillates wildly between thinking that he needs to be the best lover ever, the most pleasing, the most perfect, the one who never says or does anything to upset Dream, because if he tries really hard to be perfect then Dream won’t leave, right? But then there’s the other end of his psyche which is like, he’s got to push the boundaries, he’s got to get it over with before he gets even deeper into this relationship, he knows it’s inevitable because he’s far from perfect and Dream already left once, it’s only a matter of time before Hob fucks up again. Neither of these mindsets are ideal, of course. And Dream sort of gets it but not quite, not enough to be able to put Hob’s mind at ease, so the cycle perpetuates.

And Hob is really good at self destructing, ok. He’s had a lot of practice. He knows how to be irritating and awful and downright unbearable, he knows which behaviours are the most irksome to Dream. He knows, he keeps pushing, and Dream stays until. Hob finds a limit. Pushes too hard. It’s a cocaine binge, or an important occasion missed and ignored, or a door slammed in Dream’s face. Possibly all at once. And Dream is pissed, and he really does walk away.

Hob thought he’d be prepared, because it’s already happened once but god. His heart absolutely shatters. His brain is telling him that he’s the worst person in the world and he deserves Dream’s hatred, he deserves to suffer because he’s awful and he hurt the one person who loves him. A whole day passes and Dream doesn’t come back, doesn’t go through the usual evening routine with Hob, he isn’t there to take care of him or inspect his body as he usually does. There’s no spanking, no corner time, just the empty flat. And the nightmares.

And Dream is upset, of course, but mostly he’s worried about Hob. He’s always alarmed when his lover acts out in a non fun way, and this time he wants to resolve the problem for real. So he takes a little time, maybe visits the library for some insight, until he’s forcefully tugged across his realm by Hob’s agony. It’s the dream that hurts the most, the nightmare where Dream walks away and leaves Hob vulnerable and alone. All those terrible things which Hob thinks about himself reverberate around the dream and he’s so cold, and scared.

And then Hob is awake, and Dream holds him and for some reason Dream is apologising, but Hob won’t let him because this is all his fault. But Dream tells him that maybe… maybe they both need to stop ascribing blame? And Hob is wondering when Dream got so wise about this kind of thing, and Dream says that he’s just trying to be. For Hob. Because they’re both fucked up but that doesn’t have to rule their relationship.

Dream introduces Hob to maintenance discipline, and also puts more emphasis on rewarding good behaviour. And Hob works on his abandonment issues, and expressing himself in words. And Dream makes sure that that one nightmare stays away for a while. It’s all very far from ideal or perfect, but it’s peaceful and gentle and better every day <3