#Dreamling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gabessquishytum · 1 day

Note

King Robert tends to sneak out of the castle a lot. His advisors and guards despair, trying to impress upon him the danger of the monarch just wandering around villages. They argue even beloved monarchs have enemies who might seek to hurt him while he's dallying about, outside the safety of the palace and his armed guards. The King nods and smiles......and continues to sneak out.

Hob, please don't call him "king" or "Robert," loves getting out of the castle! It's not like regular people really know what a king looks like, even if it's their monarch. When he's out Hob is amazed by his people.

Hob has helped raise a barn, brought in crops, been taught to knit by sweet old ladies, celebrated one of the pagan-ier holidays in a village square (the mead and food were fantastic), got into numerous sword fights to defend the honor of young ladies and men..... It's fantastic and real, and Hob would argue it makes him a better king.

Yes, Hob is aware that his various counselors (and his mom the Dowager Queen) want him to get married and stop venturing out, but all the stuck up potential consorts or soooo stuffy and entitled. Hob does think any of them have helped dig a well for a town that needed water or helped celebrate the birth of a new baby in a village pub!

Besides, there might be this beautiful new artist in town, Dream, who rents a room over the inn and takes simple commissions, who is so lovely. Hob is working so hard to be charming and learn more about him,,,but Dream is tight lipped as to where he's from. Still Hob knows he's wearing him down.....Hob got a small smile from his targeted buffoonery last time!

👑🤴🏽👑🤴🏽

Since they won't stop, Hob has decided he's going to see if he can convince Dream to marry him! Marrying him has to be better than those self serious "royals". But when he goes to see him, Dream is gone,, like he was never there. Hob is heartbroken.

He guesses he's meant to marry one of the snobs. He lets his council choose. They decide to accept the Endless Kingdom's offer - Prince Morpheus.

This is the romcom we ABSOLUTELY deserve with these two beloved idiots <3

Hob is disconsolate after Dream leaves - he doesn't even have the heart to sneak out of the castle. The villagers are quite worried about him until he finally turns up one evening, basically to say goodbye to all his friends. He explains that a spouse has finally been chosen for him, and that as a married man it will be inappropriate to go out gallivanting and putting himself in potential danger. He will have a duty to spend time with his new husband, too. And his friends all understand - they accept his heartfelt invitations to the wedding. He's brought gifts from the castle for all the kids who've basically adopted him as a big brother. And he definitely sheds a few tears in the arms of the old ladies before he leaves.

Meanwhile, Prince Morpheus is en route to his new spouse's kingdom. He doesn't want this marriage at all, but after he ran away (and then got caught and dragged back home) his parents forced him to accept to situation. They won't even tell him where he's going or who he's marrying - a punishment for his disgraceful behaviour! Dream is fully expecting to be married to some awful old man. But when he gets out of the carriage he finds himself in a rather familiar place... he almost laughs out loud! He quickly has to pretend to be heartbroken over the impending marriage, when he really he's nearly vibrating with excitement.

They don't meet until they get to the altar (it's tradition, for royal marriages). Hob’s eyes light up and he looks over towards where his village friends are sitting like "are you seeing this??? it’s dream!!!" Everyone else is quite confused about why King Robert suddenly looks so happy, but his friends are able to heartily applaud the marriage. He truly deserves to be happy!

As for Morpheus - or Dream, as he prefers to be called - with the wedding officially performed, he can throw himself into Hob’s arms. His parents are pissed off to see their wayward son looking so content, but Dream no longer cares. The fates have been kind to him, and delivered him into the arms of the only man he has ever wished to marry. He can't wait to spend many years sneaking out of the castle with Hob, getting up to all kinds of mischief, and finally enjoying life.

#the sandman #dreamling #cw forced marriage

212 notes · View notes

buttergranola · 2 days

Text

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #the sandman fanart #the sandman netflix #dreamling #hob gadling

165 notes · View notes

seiya-starsniper · 2 days

Note

Also, "you know I love you, right" with dreamling from the gentle prompts

Hi anon I am SO SORRY this is like almost six months late, but I finally wrote something for this prompt!!! 😁💖

AO3 Link Here or read the whole fic below!

----------------------------------

Dream is nervous.

He knows, logically, that he should not be. That he is, as always, catastrophizing things in his mind, thinking of the worst possible scenario for how things will go. But he also knows that what he plans to ask Hob tonight over dinner is not an insignificant question. And he has to get everything just right.

Dream has gotten things wrong so many times in his relationships. With his parents, with his siblings, his friends, his past lovers. He has asked for too much too soon, and given too little until it was too late to fix what had been wronged.

Dream wants to do things right with Hob.

Hob, who has been so patient with Dream as he picked himself up after his divorce from Calliope. Hob, who had only been a casual acquaintance at first, a friend of a friend of a friend. Hob, who had somehow, miraculously, fallen just as deeply in love with Dream over the last two years as Dream had done so with him.

And now, Dream wants them to take the next step in their relationship.

He sets the stage perfectly; buying a bottle of wine from the vineyard where they had their first date to pair with the dinner Hob is preparing in Dream’s kitchen. Candles on the table for ambiance. Dream is also wearing a sleek satin button down that he knows that Hob likes on him.

“Is it my birthday?” Hob asks, waggling his eyebrows when Dream lets him into his flat. When Dream closes the door behind him, he finds himself pulled into the passionate kiss. Hob presses him against the closed door and licks eagerly into Dream’s mouth, drawing a guttural groan from deep inside him.

“You’re tempting enough for me to want dessert first,” Hob teases, nipping at Dream’s bottom lip before pulling away slightly to appreciate Dream’s outfit more. Dream laughs, and pulls Hob back to himself in a tight hug.

“Perhaps I just wanted to look nice tonight,” Dream whispers against his lover’s ear. “But good things come to those who wait.” Hob huffs, then kisses him again, gentler this time, and Dream melts into it.

They eventually make their way into Dream’s kitchen, and Hob notices the bottle of wine and candles on the table immediately.

“Please tell me I haven’t forgotten a special occasion,” he says, his tone teasing, but Dream can tell he’s nervous. Dream shakes his head and nudges Hob towards the stove and countertops, kissing him again and squeezing his arm.

“No special occasion forgotten, I promise,” Dream reassures Hob. “I am only doing this just because. To be romantic.”

“If you say so,” Hob replies, still uncertain. He lets the matter drop, and goes on to prepare dinner while Dream opens the wine and finishes preparing the table. His hands are shaking with every movement, but thankfully Hob is too preoccupied with cooking to really notice. They trae stories about their days, Hob on the latest drama in the faculty department of his university, and Dream complaining about the minutiae of having to plan his gallery opening next month.Dinner itself flies by and before Dream knows it, they’ve opened the bottle of wine and moved to the living room to cuddle.

Hob tries to suggest putting on a movie, but Dream shakes his head, taking a deep breath and putting his wine down on the coffee table.

“You know I love you, right?” Dream asks, wringing his hands together despite himself. Hob hums, and then takes Dream’s hands gently in his. He brings one of Dream’s hands to his lips and kisses it, slow and tender. Dream melts like butter into his touch.

“I do, and I love you too,” Hob answers, his smile warm and inviting. “What’s this all really about, love?”

Dream stares into Hob’s dark brown eyes, and swallows thickly. Now or never he supposes. At least now he’ll know whether they really were of the same mind about the future.

“I—Iwantustomoveintogether,” Dream blurts out all in a single breath. There. Now it was all out in the open.

Hob furrows his brow in confusion at first, seeming to not have understood what Dream had just said. But then his eyes widen in shock, and Dream feels his stomach swoop. He can’t tell whether Hob looks happy, or upset, and it absolutely terrifies Dream.

But then Hob’s eyes soften, and Dream feels hope burn bright like a star within his chest.

“You mean it?” Hob asks, his voice sounding just as fragile as Dream feels. “You—you want—”

“Yes,” Dream exhales, before Hob practically knocks him into the other side of the couch with how forcefully he kisses him. Dream wraps his entire body around Hob’s, unwilling to let go of him for even just a moment. Hob technically hadn’t answered the question just yet, but Dream can infer by the way the other man is kissing him that the answer is a very resolute yes.

“You know, you didn’t need to get all dressed up just to ask me that,” Hob tells him when they break apart to breathe. “I would’ve said yes even if you’d asked me in the middle of Tesco.”

Dream barks out a laugh and then pulls Hob into another kiss.

“I would hope by now, you know that anything else less than the most romantic gesture is unacceptable by my standards,” he replies with mock indignation. Hob doesn’t reply, only kisses him again, and everything is perfect.

They soon fall into excited discussions about the future, talking late into the night about whether they will stay in one flat or the other, the best time to move, how much in monthly payments they can afford between the two of them. Dream is not particularly married to his flat, and he knows that the location is not the most convenient to Hob’s university. Hob’s flat is small, however, and Dream knows he needs a larger space in order to be able to paint. They eventually decide on vacating their separate flats and looking for a place together.

Dream’s stomach is in knots, the good kind though, when they go to bed. He’s never gotten to truly choose his own living space with another person. When he and Calliope had been married, they’d moved into her childhood home, and it had never quite felt like home, even after Orpheus had been born. Even his current flat, the style, the decor, all of it is handpicked by his mother, Nyx.

But this new flat? This hypothetical for now space? This will be just for him and Hob. It will be just theirs.

Six months later, Hob carries Dream over the threshold of their new townhome like they’ve just gotten married, and Dream laughs in delight. He cannot remember the last time he’d been so happy.

When Hob lets him down in their new, still empty living room, Dream takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the emotional weight of what they’ve done wash over him.

This home is theirs. Both their names are on the mortgage, a contract that binds them closer than marriage does, at least in Hob’s opinion. This home hadn’t been in their initial plan, they had only seen it in passing while looking at another flat in the same neighborhood, but it had been love at first sight for both of them.

It had also, admittedly, been a little bit outside of their budget. But Hob was expecting a promotion, and Dream’s gallery opening had plenty of buzz surrounding it. Things would work themselves out. He knew they would.

They’re arguing again, and Dream doesn’t even remember what started it. They were fighting more and more lately; about chores, about things that needed to be fixed, about the ever growing pile of bills between them.

Hob had gotten the promotion he’d wanted, but it came with more work and time away than either of them expected. Dream’s gallery opening was well attended, but only a few of his paintings had been purchased outright. The gallery assured him this was normal, and he knew it to be true, as a debut artist he needed to build a reputation. But the disappointment stung nonetheless.

The house too, had been more work and more expense than they had expected. It seemed like something was always breaking, or needed to be replaced, and they could never agree on a chore schedule that did not make the other feel like they were doing more of the work.

Now they were arguing over what to have for dinner, a simple meal, an activity they used to both consider sacred between them. But Hob doesn’t want to cook, and Dream is tired of eating takeaway. Hob tells him Dream needs to learn to cook. Dream tells him that Hob is too picky to cook for.

“You know what? Forget it,” Hob says, throwing up his arms in surrender and turning away from him. “This isn’t worth it.”

Dream’s heart shatters when he hears those words.

Not worth it, not worth it, not worth it. Dream has heard those words a million times in a million different contexts, but it always, always, means the same thing.

Dream wasn’t worth it. Wasn’t worth the effort it took to put up with him, to be patient with him, to love him. Calliope had said he wasn’t worth all the fights and arguments. Cory had said their relationship wasn’t worth staying in London for when his dream job was in the US. Nada had said having to deal with his family wasn’t worth it. And now Hob had decided Dream wasn’t worth his time or his love either.

Before he knows it, Dream is running out of the room, out of their home, and into the pouring rain. He can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart in his ears.

Not worth it. Not. Worth. It

He’s worthless, worthless, worthless.

Dream hadn’t even bothered putting on shoes, so it doesn’t surprise him when he slips on the wet cobblestones of the street and he falls.

What does surprise him is that he doesn’t hit the ground.

Because Hob is there. Holding him back, and gripping him like he’s afraid Dream will disappear if he doesn’t.

Hob had come after him. Had run after Dream in the pouring rain just to catch him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Hob is crying into his shoulder as he pulls Dream to his chest. “I forgot that’s what you hate hearing the most, I didn’t mean it. Not like that. Never like that.”

Dream chokes out a sob of his own, then wriggles himself out of Hob’s grip so he can turn around and hug his lover back.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, pulling Hob into a desperate kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I swear it Dream, I’ll never leave you alone,” Hob promises. “You’re absolutely worth fighting for, always.”

Dream doesn’t know what the future holds for them. But he knows, now, in this moment, soaked to his skin and freezing cold, that he and Hob can get through anything. Because they love each other. Because Hob will fight for Dream as much as Dream will fight for Hob. Because they’re not perfect people, but they are perfect for each other. And that is worth everything.

#dreamling #dream x hob #hob x morpheus #the sandman fanfic #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling

93 notes · View notes

tumbleringismycopingmechanism · 3 days

Text

I'm not much of a writer and definitely can't pull this off, but anyone else feel free:

You know the common trope that Dream can't dream and if he does his version of "sleep" it's just like floating in darkness? What if that's just because his subjects are too afraid to visit him? Like, he thinks it's just that he not-sleeps and can't dream, that's just how it is for Dream of the Endless. And then he's trapped in a glass bowl for 106 years and comes out changed and starts to be kinder to his subjects and taking their thoughts and feelings into account. And since he thinks sleeping is just a state of nothingness for a few hours he hasn't tried it in centuries, but Hob (bless him) tries to get Dream to have some healthier habits and at some point convinces him to try sleeping. And would you look at that, some dreams actually show up this time and Dream gets to experience his realm the same ways mortals do for the first time ever

#dream of the endless #dream x hob #Dreamling

59 notes · View notes

freakish-goth · 1 day

Text

i am not immune to dark haired goth boys

#the sandman #morpheus sandman #morpheus #dreamling #dream of the endless

47 notes · View notes

voukkake · 3 hours

Text

More Dreamling Tarzan AU :D

#ferdinand kingsley #dreamling #the sandman #tom sturridge #hob gadling #dream of the endless #tarzan #tarzan au #alternative universe

53 notes · View notes

delta-pavonis · 18 hours

Text

Fic: Special Exhibition

Dreamling (human AU) || Rated E || 10k words || complete Alternate Universe - human, sequel to Placebo Effect, Doctor Hob Gadling, museum curator Dream, sequel to fake relationship to real relationship, Dream was an unrepentant slut in college, Hob is still an unrepentant slut, getting too deep into a relationship too quickly, Bisexual Hob Gadling, Lust at First Sight, Top Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Bottom Hob Gadling, Genital Piercing, Cock Piercing, Frenum piercing, Cock Rings, Cock Slut, Chaps, Face-Sitting, fluid bonding, Safe Sane and Consensual, Barebacking, swearing fealty, Leather, leather harness, Hob gets railed, deep dicking, Coming Untouched, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Massage, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Anal Fisting, Cowgirl Position, Finger Sucking, Ass to Mouth, Impact Play, minor impact play using hands, Orgasm Edging, Orgasm Denial, Orgasm Delay, Light BDSM, Dom/sub Undertones, Porn with Feelings

Hob responded to the DM he got from @.TheArtofDreaming because it was by far the most interesting response he had gotten within 48 hours of posting that video with him saying he would do a fake relationship call. Wordsmithing aside, the fact that Dream had just laid out what was pretty much the exact kind of gig Hob had wanted when he made the silly thing was just serendipitous. Honestly, at first pass Hob had not at all expected @.TheArtofDreaming to be AMAB. It had been a pleasant surprise. Not that Hob had lied about his sexuality–no, he was as 3 of a 3 on the Kinsey Scale as one could get–but after Eleanor it has just been… harder. With people who presented more feminine. Not for lack of interest, but there was a lot of baggage to sort through. In contrast, texting with Dream was easy: he was engaging, responsive, thoughtful, and quick-witted. They were both passionate about what they did, for work and for play. So, yeah, lunch seemed like a great idea and maybe he could end up being friends with one of his favorite museum’s curators! Maybe he could even get a behind-the-scenes tour someday. Oh, what simple goals that naive Hob had set.

Read on AO3

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #curator Dream #museum curator Dream #medical doctor Hob #sequel to “fake relationship to real relationship”#ridiculous smut #Pavonis writes

45 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 3 days

Text

Ages ago I was thinking about married dreamling later in life, and I rambled out a few hundred words about Hob having a big butt and Dream loving it... I'm probably not going to do anything with it now but I think it deserves to be posted, and it would be amazing if it inspired further thoughts about middle aged comfy dreamling <3

Potential tw for mild body image issues. Enjoy! <33

It's not that Hob thinks that Dream is weak, alright? That's not what it's about at all.

When they met at university some 20 years ago it had been very much a “twink4twink” kind of affair. Hob had looked like a strong gust of wind might blow him over. He had to have extra holes drilled in his belts to keep his jeans from falling down. He was frequently accused of having hollow legs – and Dream was no better. No amount of pot noodles and cheap beer seemed to make a difference. They used to be able to share clothes.

Things have changed. Somewhere along the line during the two decades of their relationship, Dream filled out into a lean yet distinguished gentleman, whose flat stomach paired very nicely with his sinewy arms and strong calves. His suits fit him immaculately, and Hob wouldn't even dare to try and get into his skinny cut trousers.

Twink death, they call it. That's what Hob’s been through. He's actually not mad about it. But what the hell is he supposed to do when his beloved husband asks him to sit on his face?!

Dream has such a pretty face, too. That lovely sharp little nose. Those cheekbones. Hob would very much like to sit on it, actually. Then he'll catch a glimpse of his own arse in the mirror. What if he breaks his darling Dream’s pretty face? So he makes excuses and distracts Dream with other activities. He gets Dream to sit on his face. But Dream does keep asking, and Hob does hate to deprive him of something that he obviously wants.

“Dearest darling. It's not that I don't want to.” He admits, the next time Dream brings it up with a hopeful lilt in his voice. “Don't you think I'm just a bit too… big? I mean, my bottom eclipses the dining room chairs. I'm afraid you have to face facts. It might just be a bit ambitious.”

Dream looks out from under his eyelashes. And he licks his lips slowly. “Does it not occur to you that the size may in fact be part of the appeal, in this case?”

Hob blushes. He can vividly feel his cheeks heating up. “You want me to potentially break your nose with my massive arse?”

“I want you to sit on my face so that I can pleasure you with my tongue, and feel your thighs flexing around my head, and feel the softness of your body rippling under my hands. I will beg for it if you wish, my beloved husband. I will beg to feel your weight on me.”

Hob doesn't make him beg. After such a moving speech, Dream deserves to get exactly what he wants. Possibly for the rest of their entire marriage, but certainly for the next half an hour at least. If he wants a massive arse, then Hob will gladly provide it.

Next time he catches himself in the mirror, he'll smile. Maybe have a little wiggle. And think about Dream’s tongue, with all the wicked things it can do…

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw body image #dreamling fic

95 notes · View notes

lemoneyshipz · 2 days

Text

me realizing i love stressing Hob out lmaoooo poor hob not sorry 🤪 i feel like this could be a good fic idea where it’s just hob stuggling between wanting to lock dream up under 3 layers of protection fortress but also wanting to keep dream happy and let dream have autonomy

feel free to take it it might take forever for me go get to it😂😂

#dreamling #dream of the endless #the sandman #morpheus #sandman #drawing #hob gadling #fic ideas #lemoneyshipz

33 notes · View notes

pinkwormholes · 19 hours

Text

Who gave either of you the right to look at each other like this

#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #hob x dream #the sandman #i hate them /pos

32 notes · View notes

drjholtzmann · 7 hours

Text

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

------------

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough.

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory.

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again.

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.”

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look.

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly.

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end.

“So… it is related?”

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette.

“Show me?”

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned.

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?”

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know.

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.”

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly.

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.”

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.”

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.”

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.”

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile.

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.”

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

#sandman #dreamling #dead boy detectives #sandman fanfic #my fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #charles and edwin get a cameo lets say #im so excited for the show yall have no idea

22 notes · View notes