#teacher Hob Gadling

[scifrey]

CLING FAST

Read on Tumblr or Read Edited Version on AO3

Status: Complete

Series: the Hob Adherent series.

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

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Discussions of grief and in-canon character death.

Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Eleanor | Hob Gadling's Wife/Hob Gadling (past)

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Matthew the Raven, Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Patrick the bartender, Harriet Butler, Glenn Davies (plus some cameos from other characters from the Gaiman Television-Literary Universe)

Summary:

Hob Gadling is a clingy bastard, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. He clings to life. He clings to hope. He clings to his love of humanity. He clings to his Stranger. He also, unfortunately, has a habit of clinging to his name.

Which means, when the BBC is looking for a new pet history expert to appear in their educational docudrama series “Elizabethan Manor,” they’re overjoyed to find a professor who (according to their meticulous research) is actually descended from the Master of the National Trust building they’re filming in - Gadlen House.

Only Hob knows how right they are.

Picks up a few hours after the end of Season 01 Episode 6.

READ ON AO3 | VIEW FANART | MY OTHER FANFIC | MY BOOKS

[mortalsilence]

Future fic chapter idea:

Hob Gadling is so used to fake identities, ID cards (maybe he does them, maybe he has the correct aquitances) that one time he uses that to play a prank. It was a time that in within his students starts a pool trying to guess their teacher's age. So, they finally cornered him, and he takes out his fake ID. The real fake ID: an ID card with his original date of birth, original birthplace and everything. They're first confused of their teacher being born in 1956, but then they really read the date and see its 1356. It cannot be that date.

"Well, how cannot be it? I'm really good at teaching medieval history because I lived trought all those years!"

They go away frustrated. First time talking about his real age and used it for a prank.

Btw, after that, Hob framed that ID. He is trying to neither forget his date of birth nor that beautiful prank he made.

[mimisempai]

You will always be my priority

Summary

Hob and Dream are considering the idea of having a pet. While Hob is enthusiastic, this is not quite the case for Dream.

Series : The life of a retired Lord of Dreams

On Ao3

Rating G - 609 words

"Dream, would you like for us to have a pet?

They were in the living room, as they almost always were at night, in their favorite position. Dream rested his head on Hob's lap while Hob read.

They had never discussed pets before.

"I'm not good enough for you anymore?" asked Dream in a sulky voice before he continued without giving Hob time to answer, "I mean, I can turn into a cat or even a dog, so I don't see why you would want one. Besides, a pet needs to be taken care of. With your classes and mine about to start, it would be a lot of work, wouldn't it?"

"But I wouldn't mind taking care of it, you know," Hob replied softly as he began to play with Dream's hair, his lover relaxing as always under the touch.

"But then you would have to take less care of me," Dream replied with the same pouty tone that made Hob smile fondly. 

Dream was much more open about his feelings now, and Hob really enjoyed it. Sometimes he tried to hide it a little, but most of the time he didn't hesitate to express the depth of his thoughts, even the most childish ones.

"You will always be my priority, my sweet lord, you have no reason to be jealous." Hob continued to run his fingers through Dream's hair. He honestly didn't know which of him or Dream would miss it more if he couldn't do that anymore. The gesture soothed him as well as Dream.

Dream seemed to ponder for a moment and replied gently, "I won't stop you if you really want one, but not one that wouldn't fit in our life."

Hob shook his head and said tenderly, "Dream, it doesn't work like that. You know I won't make the decision alone, and I only want a pet if you want it too. I won't force anything on you. It's together or nothing. Even for this. And if you don't want it, I won't hold it against you."

He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Dream's head.

Dream sighed, "I know, I... actually sometimes I worry that you're depriving yourself of things just to satisfy my whims when I'm not making any effort."

Hob resumed his stroking of Dream's hair and replied softly, "It's not about that at all, Dream. We're discussing it, I don't feel deprived of anything, and I'd rather you tell me clearly when you don't want something. It's a two-way street... always. I will never hesitate to tell you."

Dream relaxed again before saying, "I do want a pet, but not too big, and I want to choose its name. The only non-negotiable condition is that if we get one, and I mean us, together, you are not allowed to stop stroking my hair like that," Dream's tone was so serious that Hob found it hard to hold back a laugh.

"You really don't have to worry about that, as long as you allow it, this humble human will never get tired of stroking your beautiful hair, you'd have to cut off my arms to stop me, and even if they were cut off, I'd do it like this..."

He made Dream lie down on the couch, straddled him and leaned over Dream's neck, burying his head in the black hair, which made his lover laugh out loud. 

Yes, Dream had nothing to fear, he would always be Hob's priority.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Dreamling Masterlist here

[fandomgotmeagain]

OMG it's Hob!

[bisexualhobgadling]

Dream of the Endless would be a great professor, but you know what else he'd be amazing at?

Children's Librarian

Kids are full of stories. He would absolutely love to hear them and help nurture that creativity. The really young ones could be read to and have nap time. Parents would love him. Kids would love him. Hob would love him.

also it would just be really cute 😌

[levionok]

Happy [TheSandman] Renewal!

Teacher!Hob my beloved <3

[banancrumbs]

deal

[just-french-me-up]

Endless Sandman Fanfiction Tropes I Adore (2/?) : ➻ Professor Robert "Hob" Gadling

[webonchin]

Comfy⛅

Today I bring the Dreamling ,tomorrow?

probably nothing bc i'm studying (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) so hold on till the weekends ,sowwy.

[ediyo-15]

got an au i kinda wanna write. probably won’t. bone apple teeth

[brightestplanets]

I'm a history teaching major so I'm extremely attached to history professor hob gadling and I think he is immensely passionate about teaching people about the past while having to tone it down so he doesn't make it seem like he was THERE but he is so passionate he was in the thick of many historical events and he has lived many lives he has been a soldier and a lord and a businessman and a teacher and he is the perfect one for Dream to love because Hob is a storyteller at his core. Teachers spread stories. The king of dreams and nightmares and stories picked the perfect man to let live forever because stories live in everything Hob Gadling does. He makes sure the past cannot be forgotten he takes it upon his own shoulders as a teacher because his hands are rough with the callouses from swords that have since turned to dust because Hob Gadling tells history because he IS history. He unwittingly becomes the most devoted storyteller Dream has ever known just by living, loving and teaching.

[mortalsilence]

Touching grass

“He’s your only friend and after half millennia still doesn’t even know your name?”

“...I have plenty of friends.”

“I am not going to take on count your imaginary friends created by you to serve you. You need to go out more. Touch some grass. Have real interactions with people. I don’t care if first you go around snitching in their dreams and then go out. But don’t be so pathetic.”

“...”

“Yes, I’m lecturing you. Go out, buy the poor man a good beer and tell him your name. Now I have to go. I cannot believe I still have to say these things to you. Good bye, brother. For once, tell him I said hi. I will know if you don’t.”

Chapter 3 from A dream come true is out! You can read the rest at Ao3. Be kind, I have no patience for a beta read xdd

[notallsandmen]

Hear me out: Special eds teacher Hob

ADHD Hob being perfect for Dream because he’s understanding of Dream’s time blindness, propensity for hyperfocus, emotional dysregulation and rejection sensitivity.

ADHD Hob becoming a special education teacher, and just taking one solid look at Dream’s more neurodivergent-coded issues and going: ”you know what? I’m going to save this bastard with my unhinged love and Montessori pedagogy.”

Hob asking Matthew to help him remind Dream of things during the day; to maintain contact even when Dream is time-blind and keeps forgetting their dates because he is two weeks deep into a tentacled goat WIP and will stop for no one.

Hob pointing out the hypocrisy of Dream hammering on about sleep hygiene, before helping him implement some hard-line work/life balance rules to prevent burn-out. Hob sneaking a pomodoro timer into the Dreaming to force Dream to take regular breaks.

Lucienne is so relieved that she actually goes on a beach vacation / sex romp with Gault

[rainbowvamp]

There’s a difference between familiar and used to.

The feeling of being so tired after doing nothing like an ache in his bones is familiar. He’s felt it before. He knows what it is. He knows what it means. He knows that he’s going to have to work harder to get out of bed today. That objectively knowing the world is always getting better isn’t going to make him feel better. He knows that there will be lead in his feet all day. And weights on his smile. And a void in his heart. He knows that. It’s familiar.

Familiar doesn’t mean used to.

He thinks if he were used to this, he’d be able to power through it better. He thinks if he just had more self-control. More will power. More desire. He’d be able to talk himself out of his own downward spiral like he might be able to talk himself out of a 1000 meter free fall.

Except you can’t talk your way out of a 1000 meter free fall. Not any more than you can talk yourself out of the familiar ache of Everything is Too Much. He knows the only way out is through. To hit the ground, get patched up at A&E, and spend a while healing. He knows he needs to rest. He knows he needs to eat. He knows he needs to go out into the sun.

He also knows that he has papers to grade. And parents who want to yell at him because the best he can manage isn’t good enough. He knows that the school year isn’t over for another three months and testing season is just around the corner and so things are about to get worse.

He knows that.

He knows that, and it cancels out all the other things he knows.

And he stays in bed on a Sunday. Heavy like lead. Strapped down like his blankets are steel bars. He can’t move. It’s too much. Everything is Too Much.

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that that’s okay.

You can’t embrace life without embracing all of life.

Sometimes life is depression. Sometimes life is overwhelm. Sometimes life is memories of drowning slotted between the feeling you get when there’s more work to do than you can manage and you think you should manage it anyway.

Sometimes that’s what life is. You have to take the good with the bad.

He twitches aside the curtain by his bed. Lets a sliver of sunlight fall across the back of his hand. It’s enough for now. Later he might able to muster more. It’s enough for now.

He lets the sunlight warm the smallest part of his hand and reminds himself that every fall must end. And every testing season must pass. And every parent who has no idea what his job is like eventually moves on to harass some other poor sod and then the thing starts all over again.

And every time it starts over it gets a little better. And he holds onto that hope, strapped into his bed by blankets that feel too heavy to move, and he lets himself sleep another hour, because it’s Sunday and he deserves to rest, even if he doesn’t feel like it. Sometimes rest is what your body needs, even if your brain disagrees.

And if he dreams of a pale hand holding his, sometime in the next century, then that’s no one’s business but his own.

[funeral-clown]

people always hc’ing hob gadling as teaching literature or history. well fie on that i say. too easy. man teaches advanced mathematics bc “it’s been 600 years and math is still math”

seasons change fashion changes but you take 2 and you add 2 and buddy no matter what you got 4. which is WAY easier to keep up with than whatever those bastards in psychology are discovering right now i mean he’d have to do so much extra work to keep up with all the ways it proves itself wrong meanwhile a major mathematical discovery that changes the face of the discipline is much rarer and you get a lot less annoying students telling you that actually they read a book that said you were wrong and could you please address that and waste valuable class time defending something that was IN THE DAMN READING and instead you get hollow eyed sobbing young adults who can’t remember all the formulae and think you are a god for being able to comprehensively explain quadratics

and that’s easier to maintain and i feel like a little bit on consistency would be comforting is all

[landwriter]

I just. Need to get this out of my head. We all see Hob as a university level teacher but what if he wasn't? What if he was an elementary, or even kindergarten/preschool, teacher. He didn't exactly plan to become an Offical Wrangler of 20 Human equivalent of cats, but it lets him showcase his random knowledge and get even more excited about seeing the future.

Get it outta your head, put it into mine, yes, this is the meta I welcome and adore!!! I think my views on Hob tend to run a little bit sharper and darker than the average fandom take. I've never seen him as someone whose chief trait is hope, yanno? It's hunger for me! Never thought, oh yeah, that is a labrador retriever in human form. I have never associated him with a little classroom that has posters about weather and seasons and a map of the world.

And YET. After getting this ask and thinking about it. I am fucking sold and now I will sell you all too. He would be a brilliant teacher of younger kids. Because I don't think you need to be sunny or kind or friendly to be a good teacher of small children. It’s nice. But I do believe you have to be curious. And sensitive. And patient. And those are some of the traits that characterize Hob to me.

He knows more of the variations of life than can be earned in a mortal lifetime alone. He knows loneliness. He knows losing family. He knows poverty. He knows about moving and leaving what feels like your whole life behind you, when you never wanted to go. He would inherently understand why it's better to talk about 'grownups at home' than 'parents', and why you shouldn't make kids share with the class what they did on their summer vacation. 

He is always curious - not just of the world in a way that allows him to passionately transmit that knowledge to his classes like you say OP - but also of his kids. About their dreams and hopes and fears. About how childhood has changed so much. He loves the small stuff. He wants to hear it all. A class of 20 enthusiastic kids might be like herding cats, but it’s also 20 entire lives, mornings and nights and houses and siblings and pets and chaos and weird kid observations and beliefs, and it sates Hob’s bottomless hunger for the human experience far more than a lecture hall filled with a bunch of young adults who are only there three hours a week, whose extent of conversation with him is usually limited to emails asking for paper extensions that he grants each and every time.

He also has this insane sensitivity that you see even in 1389 in the way he pulls back earnestness with humour to match the mood of the room. He is always watching, always feeling, always adjusting. Think of all the little expressions of expectation and irritation and hurt and hope when talking with Dream! I have no doubt he’d ensure each of his students felt seen and understood, even if it's hard at first. Even if it takes a long time to get there. It’s taken him a long time, after all. He is this exquisitely tuned instrument to talk carefully to kids, and to give them back tenfold the sort of validation that a part of him always howled for in those early meetings.

He's good at being earnest. He's good at big feelings. He's good at being funny. He's good at noticing. He's good at these things, in large part, because he's not normal at all.

He’s also as stubborn as a child, but as frighteningly patient as, well, an immortal. It’s probably uncanny to his colleagues. They tell Hob he’s got the patience of a saint, and he thinks, privately, More like the faith of a martyr. But he does. He’s got both.

I think he doesn't get it all right at first. But I think within ten years he’s got so many teaching awards he needs to put up a special shelf for them. Below it, though, are several shelves, already full to bursting, with letters and thank-yous and birthday cards and ‘look at me now’ life updates from former students. Because that is the kind of teacher Hob wants to be.