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pianokantzart · 1 year

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Broken Warp Pipe AU

Based off of a concept by @multicolour-ink and @wiz-witch where the warp pipe in Brooklyn breaks down, leaving Mario and Luigi stranded separate dimensions: X.

From there I just went off the rails.

Mario (Brooklyn Side)

Mario has not stopped working toward finding a way to The Mushroom Kingdom since he and Luigi were separated, and has run himself ragged in the process.

He started off trying to discover if there is a working warp pipe somewhere else in the world. After all, if there was one just under their noses in Brooklyn, surely there’s another somewhere! He just needs to search, and search hard.

He’s always on the move, working some side-gigs to stay afloat while spending every second of free time pursuing and studying warp pipes. He eats bad, sleeps bad, and even smokes sometimes when he’s sleep deprived and can’t focus (though he always feels guilty about it afterward. Luigi would NOT approve.)

Mario hates being alone, but spends most of his time alone, because he feels that’s what he deserves at this point. He’s reached so many dead ends he feels like he’s already failed his brother, but refuses to slow down all the same.

When he’s feeling particularly hopeless or lonely, sometimes he talks to nobody as though he’s talking to Luigi. This helps a little.

He calls his family every couple of months to let them know he’s okay, and to see if there’s any sign that the Brooklyn warp pipe is working again. These phone calls are brief, and he never properly explains where he is or what he’s doing.

Mario has stolen (and usually returned) many ancient artifacts and documents, and broken into many a location trying to uncover a warp pipe. He hasn’t hurt anyone, but his impatience and determination has earned him a bit of a criminal record in the human world.

In his travels, Mario found one or two working warp pipes, but they led to weird alternative dimensions not even close to The Mushroom Kingdom. He has done some heroism in these places whenever the situation presents itself (he’s still a good guy), and has been rewarded with helpful information about warp pipes and how they work.

Through knowledge he gleaned from his travels, combined his own advanced skills with traditional plumbing, Mario eventually pieces together how to repair warp pipes, which he uses to fix his own pipe back in Brooklyn.

Luigi (Mushroom Kingdom Side)

When Mario first got trapped in Brooklyn, Luigi desperately tried to fill his brother’s shoes until he returned. When Bowser inevitably reattempted to destroy The Mushroom Kingdom, Luigi tried to channel his brother by taking the tyrant on alone. He was very nearly killed as a result. DK, Toad, and Peach successfully fended off Bowser in the end, but Luigi was left physically and emotionally scarred in a way he has not quite recovered from.

Luigi still does his best to be a hero despite everything, but is only barely functional unless he has someone backing him up. Princess Peach sticks close to him whenever possible, and Toad is ecstatic to have him as a friend and adventuring buddy.

Luigi has an official place on the Toad Brigade, and is happiest when he’s doing missions with them.

He eventually develops into one of the most formidable heroes in the dimension, especially after he gains the powers of the thunder hand. He rarely gets recognition for this though, because he very much does not behave like the traditional hero, and far prefers the sidekick position. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Luigi does not spend a lot of time in his and Mario’s house, save to keep it clean and tidy. He has not moved any of his brothers things, except to keep them dusted. A part of him still holds out hope that he’ll be back one day.

Princess Peach hooked Luigi up with an apprenticeship with Professor E. Gadd during one of his slumps, and he spends most of his nights sleeping over at the lab. The professor is happy to have him around; Luigi keeps the place so neat and organized, and makes the best cup of coffee!

Though they have some wardrobe changes, both Mario and Luigi have their original hats, and are extremely protective of them.

#My Art #Mario AU #Not really an AU so much as a 'what if' tbh #Super Mario Bros #SMB Movie #Super Mario #Luigi #Mario #Long post #This idea has been on my mind for a bit. Can you tell?#They are disasters without each other. But they are brave disasters that never say die #It's up to interpretation how long it takes for Mario to learn to fix the Brooklyn warp pipe and go back to The Mushroom Kingdom #but it's at least a couple of years #excruciating years #and if you believe time flows faster in Brooklyn than it does in The Mushroom Kingdom.... OOF

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tswwwit · 8 months

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i’m sooo curious on bill meeting dipper’s parents. i think i remember you mentioning at one point they kinda sucked and treated dip especially bad. i’m sure that’s caused a lot of his long term mental health/self esteem issues and i can’t help but think his husband wouldn’t be too thrilled about that. also they don’t even know he’s married so that’s a whole other thing lol

In the Familiar AU, Dipper's parents shipped him and Mabel off to Grunkle Stan back when they were twelve, actually!

This was initially excused as the twins 'needing to get used to having magic'. Which makes sense! Magical puberty is a heck of a thing, and getting some training's useful to cut down on random magic surges.

But by the end of the summer, they hadn't made any plans for picking the kids up. This when Stan twigged to the real situation.

And by the end of that year, Dipper knew his 'paranoid' assumption was absolutely correct.

So the twins grew up in Gravity Falls, with only very occasional visits back 'home'. Contact's been sporadic, and Mabel's been the one who's clung more to their parent's attention. Dipper hasn't spoken to them unless forced to in years.

So yeah! Bill's not exactly thrilled with the parents - but lucky for them, they haven't met him yet! And they definitely don't know about the marriage. Much less anything else.

#answers #In summary: The twins' parents found out their kids were magical and decided they Just Couldn't Deal with that #They're not magical themselves and giving your kids some Magic Training is a good idea #But at some point you need to actually *take them back*#Which they just. Didn't #Dipper abso-friggin-lutely has a whole mess of issues from that #Abandonment's a big one. Being worth something and good at something? Yep that's an issue right there #Not the least of which is that Mabel as a more Talented and Powerful magic user got more attention when they were still there #Then continued to get more attention via phone call when they weren't #Mabel's got some REALLY rose-colored glasses on about the situation #Dipper sees it for the 'well my kids are freaks but at least one of them is a Cool Freak' it is #That's a fact he's been stewing on for *ages*. A fact bomb that he could theoretically drop on his sister but never did #Needless to say he got the brunt of the Issues™ but Mabel's got her own in turn #I'm also betting there's more than a dash of homophobia in their parents considering their reaction just to Magic #So the parents aren't going to be very thrilled about either of their partners #In my head I picture the parents wanting a Totally Picturesque Family #And creating the visual of one is easier if you only have Pictures of the kids instead of them being there and being themselves #In summary: Yeah The Parents Suck #I started a fic for this once and I still intend to write one but that's a later type of project #I gotta have the right start for it to flow well

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deiaiko · 4 months

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#19.3 Unravel

It had been some time since Agni felt this nervous. Not even talking with Jinsung Ha recently had made him feel like this. He fiddled with the mask on his hand as he waited for Grace to come back. He had thought hard on how to deliver the news, but he knew that no matter how he phrased it, Grace would be upset. Velt nuzzled under his palm and Agni gave her a few pats, before deciding that she would be better inside her bowl in his lighthouse, just in case the shinsu acted up around Grace after he received the news.

Grace came back wearing the comfiest shirt and shorts Agni knew Grace liked to wear on lazy days. He joined him on the floor, and they ate dinner together. Agni always finished last, so while waiting for him to finish his meal, Grace told him about his day with Bam. Grace was intrigued by how much his way of thinking had changed, and how glad he was to be able to be by Bam's side when he was having a bad day. It reminded Agni of the hidden floor, when Grace faced his sworn enemy.

They left the used bowls on the coffee table and went to brush their teeth. Afterwards, they turned off the light and went upstairs to sit on their bed. Grace's curious gaze never left him, and Agni curled his feet nervously.

Grace was the one who broke the silence. "So…what is it?"

Agni's breath hitched. This was the part he dreaded most. "I talked with the crocodile earlier. Did you know that he could manipulate stone already?"

"Huh." Grace needed a few seconds to let the information sink in. "Didn't Rak learn it on the Hell train? How does he know it?"

"Turns out our crocodile also traveled back to the past like us. He found the young crocodile and taught him."

"What?!" Grace gasped, wide eyed. "That means our Rak is–!!"

"He's dead." Agni quickly snuffed out that hope. They had been in delusion for long enough; it was time that they faced the bitter truth. "He suffered a fatal injury from the explosion. He couldn't have lasted long without proper help." Agni omitted the actual cause for Rak's death, but still kept his words true. "I'm sorry."

"…Oh." Grace looked lost, just like Agni was. His lips parted a little, but they closed before any sound escaped.

Agni gently squeezed Grace's hand, encouraging and comforting as he let the silence stretch on, giving Grace some time to process the information.

"Agni…" Grace whispered, "do you think Hatz and Isu…?"

Agni bit his lip and avoided his gaze, as the nightmare of that day replayed in his mind. He witnessed Hatz get his arms ripped off when trying to protect him. He could still recall the clang of a sword hitting the floor, and Hatz's suppressed scream that gnawed deep at his guilt. He witnessed Isu get beheaded after being taken hostage, the memory of warm blood painting them both still vivid like it happened yesterday.

Agni refused to acknowledge their possible deaths, because it felt like a nightmare that one day he could hopefully wake up from. He avoided the topic when Grace brought it up, so he wouldn't have to say it aloud and make it real. He had been so hard on himself, because he couldn't get rid of the feeling that he had failed Grace and everyone else involved.

Agni knew this had to change if he wanted to live better, now that they had gotten a second chance. So he swallowed down the lump in his throat that had built up over the years and asked mostly to himself; "What are the odds of their survival?"

"There's always a chance–"

"Grace." Agni looked him straight in the eye. "They were already severely injured before the explosion hit."

Grace fell silent and went still.

Agni felt a pang of guilt upon witnessing Grace's reaction. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Agni fiddled with his hands. He realized that he didn't know how much Grace knew of what happened. "My scar…do you know how I got it?"

"I…was told it was from the family heads' battle." Grace looked thoughtful. Agni knew he was trying to be careful with his words. "A stray attack?"

"It could have been worse." The memory of the scorching heat on his skin felt like it had only happened yesterday. He passed out right when he was about to heal Isu, and only found out later that he also lost sweetfish at that time. The days he spent recovering from the burn, to withstand the excruciating pain every second he was conscious, and finally coming to terms that it'd be a permanent scar, was one of the turning points that had changed him forever. Were Grace not there to care for him, he might have ended up destroying himself even more.

Agni hadn't realized he had his left hand clawing on his cheek until Grace pried his hand off and frowned, "You're doing it again."

"Maybe I should wear the mask…" Agni muttered to himself. After all, Grace gave it to him less so he could hide the scar but more to prevent him from unconsciously hurting himself. The only time he could safely take it off was when Grace was around.

Agni bit his lip nervously when Grace didn't reply. He no longer had the courage to look Grace in the eye that spoke so much concern, so he leaned close and rested his head on Grace's chest. "Rak, Isu, Hatz and Hwaryun were trying to get me out of that damned place. But we were caught while escaping, and…it was a bloodbath. I was…too occupied to react to the incoming heat. Rak shielded us from the explosion. And when I woke up…"

"They weren’t with you," Grace finished it for him after Agni trailed off a moment too long.

Agni nodded dazedly, "I've been telling myself that they're still alive, after a blow that could kill rankers. But…who am I kidding? I was lucky enough to survive with just this little–" Agni vaguely pointed to himself– "inconvenience."

Agni felt a hand gripping his arm, and he pulled away to see Grace looking at him with a pained expression. His eyes were glossy and his lips were pulled into a thin line. Trusting his instinct, Agni reached out to gently trace and cup Grace's cheek with his free hand.

"I'm sorry," Agni muttered. "I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner."

Agni silently witnessed tears that streamed down on his love's face. It was a bitter sight that Agni wished he'd never have to see again, that he had tried to avoid for so long by not telling him. He pulled Grace in and held him close to his chest, as if Agni was trying to gather his own crumbled heart back together.

Grace mumbled their late best friends' names as he held onto him tighter, shaking from each breath he took between sniffles.

Agni felt his own eyes sting with unshed tears. He remembered the years he spent climbing the tower together with his old team. Despite their banter being his source of headaches, Agni knew he too had come to acknowledge them as his cherished friends. Only when they were gone did Agni realize how much he'd miss having them around. Seeing the younger them didn't exactly close the gaping hole in his heart, but at least the emptiness was more filled.

Agni squeezed Grace tighter. "We have their younger selves with us now. We will protect them better this time."

Grace only nodded and sank further into his embrace. And Agni planted kisses on his hair, relishing the thought that after everything he had gone through, Grace was still a constant in his life. As long as he had him, everything would be okay.

When Grace started shaking again, Agni caressed his hair and hummed a comfort song they had known by heart. Still, it didn't make falling asleep any easier for Agni, especially not after admitting that his nightmare was very much real. However, as he had been through grief…this, too, would pass.

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#Whee we get to know some of their past. Specifically their turning point #I hope it flows nicely because i have rewritten this like 3 times now 😭😭😭 dialogues are just not my specialty #like how to make them reveal such information without making them come out of the blue #writing style aside. let's talk about why Agni behaves this way #I will save the details on the what and how for the prologue. but basically Agni had been through hell that he couldn't escape alone #Rak Hatz and Isu saved him (or attempted to). and Agni owed them for saving his life. thus the strong attachment that Khun doesn't have #also let me mention that Agni had trouble differentiating between hallucination and reality after the incident. So he was kind of in denial #maybe Agni had come to a conclusion that they might be dead months after that. but he was too afraid to admit it to Grace #because he thought it was partly his fault for being incompetent. and Grace would hate him for letting their friends die #not wanting to risk being left by Grace. he just put himself (and inevitably Grace too) in the illusion of truth #that there's still a chance their friends are still alive because they have no proof of their deaths #so when Agni was offered to go back to the past. he agreed to it. Already expecting that Rak Hatz Isu aren't the same ones that he looks fo #but it was as good as he could get to redeem himself. Plus they get to meet everyone else who they couldn't save #Anyway. I'm taking hiatus until April. In return I will answer if you have any questions whether it is written in the tags or sent via ask #see ya folks <3 we'll get more brothers and team bonding when I return #tower of god #tog #two sides of the same coin fic #my fic #my art #bam #25th bam #jue viole grace #khun #khun aguero agnis #khunbam #shibisu #ship leesoo #rak wraithraiser #hatz

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akkivee · 6 months

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ichiro threw gales of wind and kuukou had all this water falling imagery attached to him in the rap mv, oh they know they were cooking

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saviourkingslut · 2 months

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not to be about opera again but to be about opera again. as an art form it has the reputation of being super stuffy and something for snobs who don't know how to have fun only but honestly this was one of, perhaps even THE main theatrical entertainment for centuries. i wish people knew how hard these things can go and how engaging they can be. like characters kill and die and fight wars and (almost) commit human sacrifice left and right. characters fall in love they mourn they're ecstatic they cry they're furious it's an extremely dramatic and emotional art form! and i understand that opera does not appear approachable bc of the general conventions of the art form but i promise old works can be fun and engaging if you go watch them with some preparation beforehand (reading the libretto helps) - not to mention not all operas are old bc there are so many modern operas which engage with topical events! also the music slaps.

#le triomphe de trajan (1807) out here calling for a man's execution with this banger:#point de grace pour ce perfide; que tout sons sang coule sur un autel #(no grace for this treacherous man; let all his blood flow on an altar)#this is also annoying to me when people write historical fic and the characters treat the opera as this elitist thing #that they don't know anything about.#you know when they go to the opera reluctantly and then they have no idea what's going on on stage or who the composer is.#which is. very unlikely for anyone with the money to attend an opera in certain opera houses in the 19th c. tbqh #like im more of an expert on paris and vienna idk what it was like in london #but if you were decently (upper) middle class or nobility (esp in paris) you went regularly. this was like a whole social space too #i recently read a fanfic and one of the characters was like 'oh it's in italian. i don't know that' and the other character went like #'it's by a man called donizetti what did you expect'#(this was situated in 19th century london)#like first of all. donizetti was NOT a librettist he was a composer he did not write the text #and second of all. he worked on french operas ?? so did rossini. and spontini.#opera was an incredibly international art form. also bc productions would be performed in different countries all the time #(sometimes changed and/or translated but not necessarily)#and again like i said. this was one of THE main forms of entertainment. people were familiar with its conventions! it was well-liked!#ofc bc of the seating prices it was not very accessible to lower classes most of the time #but lbr most characters that get written into an opera scene in fiction are at the very least decently bourgeois lol #i wish people knew how to properly historicise forms of entertainment whose reputation has changed in the modern era #from what it was a century or more ago #very adjacent to people 'cancelling' old lit bc of 'bad takes' like idk how to tell you this but people thought different back then #completely different world view from what we have today. that does not make lit from that era irredeemable it is just from a diff. time #acknowledging that and reading the text critically but also still enjoying it are things that go tgt here #ok rant over (it is never over)#curry rambles

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whisperprime · 2 years

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Hob has not had this dream in a very long time.

Even before his stunt as a stand in, he hasn't seen it in a while.

He remembers the first time he'd dreamt of that wretched orb. The first time he'd seen Dream - the Dream of the other timeline - within it.

He'd thought it was just a morbid recreation of the story he'd heard. That his mind was just trying to process this horrible thing he'd heard.

He'd descended down into the basement as if in a trance only to become aware with terrible clarity upon passing through a gate that had opened far too easily. He remembered the horror and rage at seeing his friend contained and demeaned in such a way. Remembered the grief that he had gone through such a thing.

Remembered the no small amount of guilt at the fact that he had never looked. 1989 was a poor time to start, but it would have been something.

He had been completely lucid from the moment he passed through the gate, but had retained all the power that came from being within a dream. He'd used it to smudge the circle and shatter the glass.

Dream had later explained - apologized - that he had not meant to draw Hob there. He would have better control next time, he'd promised.

Hob had in turn countered that this was what friends were for: to help each other in their darkest moments. If Dream didn't want his help, that was his choice and Hob would understand, but the immortal human highly recommended talking to someone who could lend him support.

Dream had not been thrilled with the vulnerability that came with admitting he needed help, forgetting asking for it.

Still, when it happened, not once more but twice more, he had given in. Had called Hob for help. Even if it was only subconsciously. To this day, Hob didn't know what he'd said to convince his friend to trust him, but he had done his upmost best to help where he could.

It had seemed like it might be helping.

And then, the Other Dream had died.

And the dreams continued to happen. Not frequently, but they did happen.

Each time, Hob followed the stars down into the basement. Each time he found the same set up.

But, in these sequent revisitations, the orb was always empty.

Hob had heard that the Dream he had known was just an aspect. A point of view. That a new one had come to reside over the Dreaming

He had always wondered if this was a lingering wound that persevered, but didn't affect the new Dream.

Hob never got the chance to ask. He supposed he never would, now.

Hob pulled his eyes away from the cage, turning to face the gate he had been leaning against. He raised his hands and then pressed his palms to the metal. Every time he had come here in the past, he had passed through this gate.

Yet this time, he hadn't.

Since the Other Dream's death and Hob's visits here since, he had always found the gates open, before and after he passed through them. He could always leave at anytime.

But now, the gates were closed. When he presses on them, they hold. He could feel, somehow, that they would yield if he pushed, but there was also the intuitive knowledge that if he did do so he might cause damage.

Slowly, he withdraws his hands. Something is different, perhaps gone sideways. He just doesn't know if it is good or bad. He weighs his options, what little he knows about his situation. Comes to the conclusion that he can afford to wait a bit and see how things progress before making any hasty moves.

It is while he ponders that he feels something shift behind him. There isn’t any sound, per se. Just this sudden absolute knowledge that he is not alone in the dream anymore.

Hob spins around, not sure what to expect. Nothing has ever come in here save for the Other Dream, and he hasn’t been here for over two hundred years, so who--

He spots the intruder and freezes, all thoughts tumbling out of his head in confused fear. There is a familiar figure within the orb where none had been before. Although he is curled up, Hob would know this being anywhere.

“Dream?” The name falls from his lips without his consent. For a moment, he thinks this is some specter, a shadow of the original having taken form within the dream. But nothing like this has ever happened before. He knows how this goes. There is only one Dream of the Endless and for him to be here is for this to be the original. The Dream of the new timeline.

To dream of me is to invite me in.

Hob near catapults himself across the basement in his haste to reach the cage. Dream doesn’t respond to the sound of his voice or to his approach. Doesn’t respond when Hob knocks on the glass to attempt to get some kind of reaction.

“Shit!” Panic is clawing at his throat and Hob is barely keeping to his calm by the skin of his teeth. “Dream, snap out of it.” He again knocks on the glass.

And again he receives no response.

He curses to himself, mutters, “Why is he being affected by this?” Hob presses his hands to the glass, willing the being inside to respond. He doesn’t understand. “This didn’t happen.” So how is it affecting Dream to the point that he seems lost in it?

Hob glances frantically around the room, until his eyes land on the pair of chairs the guards used to sit at. The table is still set to some random hand of cards. All at once, Hob remembers that he isn’t powerless. That the Other Dream had given him the power to help drag him back from the edge of this waking nightmare. It cuts through his panic like a hot knife through butter.

Plan in mind, Hob turns back to the unresponsive Dream. “Hold on,” he tells him. He is loathe to leave, but he must to retrieve the chair. “I'll get you out of there.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He sprints back across the moat and near yanks up the chair. It should be heavy, but like the three times he’s wielded it before, it’s light as a feather. He pivots, prize in hand, to return back to the orb.

Dream has still not moved. Hob’s fingers flex around the chair, worried. He only had a handful of experiences with this to judge by with the Other Dream. He has no frame of reference for the Dream in front of him. He swallows back his trepidation.

Dream can get mad at him later. As soon as he’s back to himself.

“Got just the thing to get you out,” he says, because he always explains what he’s doing. Tries to use outside stimulation as an anchor, because he’s so far out of his depth. “You might want to move away from this side.”

Like before, he does not wait for an answer. He can feel that time is of the essence and he does not want to wait around to see what it will take before Dream comes back to himself. He swipes a foot through the damn summoning spell, perhaps taking a little vicious satisfaction in seeing it break like he’s never been able to see it in the Waking world.

Coming around, he raises and draws back the chair.

Dream has finally moved. Startled, wide eyes catching his, just as Hob brings the chair around and shatters the glass.

Dream gasps like he’s been under water and has just finally reached the surface. He doesn’t resist as Hob reaches in and gently pulls him out like he’d done with the Other Dream the handful of times they’d done this. Clings tight as he shudders, as if a weight has settled on him.

Dream weights the same as he always does: light in physical form but heavy in concept. Hob’s mind struggles with it, can never get used to it. Bears it regardless, as he makes his way across the moot and away from the cage. He’s just thinking of putting Dream down, when all of a sudden, the Dream Lord seems to just dissolve, shadows slipping through his arms like water.

And just like that, Hob knows that whatever weakness he’s witnessed has passed. He stares at his empty hands and mourns the fact that this is likely the last time he will ever feel that weight again. He lowers his hands and turns in the direction the shadows had slithered away in. Finds Dream, fully clothed and on his feet as if nothing had ever been amiss. Still, he asks, “Are you okay?”

Given past experience, he’s not surprised when he receives no response to his query. He watches as Dream takes in the room. Sees the moment it dawns on him what he’s looking at. What this place is. Hob wonders how much of the truth was contained in whatever he’d experienced when he entered this place.

Dream turns on him with a certain level of hostility. His often blue eyes in the Waking has been replaced by a dark, deep vastness that near screams with barely checked threat. In one instant to the next, he goes from being across the room to bearing down upon Hob.

“If you ever wish to leave here, you will not dodge my questions. What is this place?”

Hob feels a wave of regret, of resignation, for this thing that he could not hide. For this thing that has somehow followed him and affected the being before him. He had so wanted to spare him this knowledge, yet is seems that choice is gone now. “This was your prison, the first time around.”

Dragging his gaze away from those bottomless pits takes Herculean effort, but their pull holds little candle to the weight of his guilt. He looks out across the room, eyes no longer seeing the shattered remains of a construction that only exists in his memory and this dream, but rather the basement as it existed for the last one hundred years. “It's where I was imprisoned, the second time around.”

The temperature around him plummets. It is this that makes him shiver, instead of the way that Dream’s eyes flash with intensity of a distant super nova. The shadows around them darken as he demands, “Hob Gadling, what have you done?”

Hob is all too aware of what this creature can do. Knows there’s so much more he isn’t aware of. But he spent the better part of a century under the knife of a literal Prince of Hell and he feels that entitles him to a little recklessness. It is with this thought that he rounds back on Dream, glaring at him as he snips back, “I saved the universe from being prematurely destroyed.” He draws himself up until they’re nearly nose to nose with each other. “The rules demanded a fair trade and we gave it one as best as we could.”

And oh, how the time line had fought against the changes. But in the end, the changes held. Hob clung to that victory, to the fact that Dream had not spent that century here this time around.

Dream’s expression turned tumultuous in the same way it had just before he’d gone storming off in a hissy fit. Was this ire over the idea that a mere mortal could be a stand in for an Endless as far as the rules that governed the universe were concerned or was it something else? “You have messed with things you cannot understand. There is no telling what consequences you have invited upon yourself.”

This isn’t telling Hob anything he doesn’t already know. He doesn’t back down. “I’ve made my choice. Better me than someone else.” Including you, he does not say, but Dream seems to hear it anyway.

For the first time in their long acquaintance, Dream loses his cool first. To drive him to frustration. “Imprudent human!” The edges of the dream waver as the shadows around them roil with his fury and Hob is very, very nearly is thrown back into the Waking. “Why would you do something so foolish?”

Like a wave, Hob can feel a sudden exhaustion wash over him. They have gotten so very far away from anywhere he wants them to be that he can’t see a way back. Wonders helplessly if there is a way back.

It is with the same stubbornness that urges him to rise with each day, no matter how terrible the night before, that he clings to the fact that he knows in his bones that things can get better, that they always get better. He shifts his weight and makes his decision.

Honesty is sometimes the only path forward.

“Because I love you.”

Silence. Then, “What?”

Hob places his hands on his hips to hide the way they tremble. “You heard me, you great spook. Because I love you.” He’s thrilled when his voice doesn’t even shake.

Dream seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen into, some of the steam taken out of his sails. Something between incredulous and confused crosses his expression. “Do you expect me to thank you for what you’ve done?”

Hob huffs, feeling insulted. “Oh, come off it. Of course I didn’t do it for anyone’s thanks.” He gestures to the ceiling in lieu of the universe at large. “I did it because I wanted to continue to experience everything life had to offer.” He softened, adds, “I would have done it regardless, but, yes, it was a massive bonus that in the process you were spared this experience.” He looks up at this ridiculous, impossible creature, and says with feeling, “Say what you will, but you did not deserve this either.”

There is a war going on behind Dream’s lack of expression. Hob waits, patiently seeing what is going to win out. Braces himself for the worse and he hopes for the best.

Then, “I do not know what you expect to come out of this.”

Could be better. Could have been worse.

Hob shrugs. “I don’t expect anything to come out of this.”

Dream seems to struggle with this. Slowly, as if parsing the words out, he says “And yet you said it anyway.”

Hob nods. “Because you asked why I would take your place.”

Another struggle. Another war. This is clearly not the direction the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares expected this conversation to go. “I am not him.”

I will not give you the vulnerability he gave you, lays like a gauntlet between them.

Hob suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, no matter how good the childish behavior would feel in the moment. It won't help. “I didn't just love him for who his trauma turned him into.” He gestures to the sphere. “I'm not going to lie. He did change after this.”

He brings that same hand around to point at the insufferable git in front of him. Dream's eyes somehow give the impression they have gone cross-eyed, despite having no pupils. Hob would have laughed at the sheer affront coming off him, if this was any other situation. “But don't you dare insinuate that's all it was. I have loved you for seven hundred years. I loved you when you showed me kindness when I was at my lowest and I still loved you when you turned your back on me and walked away. I will likely love you until the day I die. Lord only knows why, but I will.” At this last part, he withdraws, his ire dulling.

Dream, it seems, is not willing to let go of his stubborn streak yet, for he says, “You cannot pick up with me where you left off with him.”

Hob looks to the ceiling as if anyone up there will give him the strength to deal with this terribly, terribly dense creature. But he knows he has done this to himself and he must walk this path himself.

Besides, he thinks he knows what this is truly about. He's seen that look before. Seen that same look on men who would deny themselves what they want most for fear they shouldn't have it.

Well, bullocks to that.

“We were never together. I never told him.”

Dream blinks at him. It's the most off guard Hob has ever seen him. “Pardon?”

Hob, patiently, repeated himself, "I never told him."

“Why?” Why tell me? Why now? Dream doesn't ask, but it's heard regardless.

Hob does not feel like explaining that he had been a coward and as such had missed his chance, so he goes for a close enough truth. “It just never happened.”

The look Dream give him suggested he isn't quite satisfied with that answer, but thankfully, he does not push.

Hob can feel the dream around them start to get the first hints of haziness. The tell tale signs that he will be waking soon.

Dream must feel it, too. The shadows around them grow heavy, to pull at him with almost the same force. Hob knows that if this being before him wishes to keep him here, he will not wake, no matter what his natural circadian rhythm says.

As suddenly as they come on, the shadows retreat. The hold loosens a fraction to where the threat is no longer there, but Hob isn’t quite in danger of prematurely escaping this conversation until Dream is done with him.

“We will return to this matter another time. I will consider the information you have given me.” Dream eyes him up and down, something considering poking through his ire. “All of the information you have given me.”

Hob feels a thrill race up his spine at the implications of that particular line. Before he can respond, however, and because the cheeky git always has to have the last line, Dream commands in a voice that rings with power: “It is time to wake, Hob Gadling.”

And Hob wakes.

Part 12

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