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martybaker · 11 months

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Whiskey for the good times

It’s a warm June evening and Dream is sitting at the end of the bar at The New Inn, watching Hob at work.

Priya the bartender called in sick and so Hob is manning the bar himself tonight. The inn is full of patrons and Hob is kept busy, clever fingers handling various bottles of liquor. He chats amicably with regulars and newcomers alike, ever with a kind smile on his face, even though there is a sheen of sweat at his temples, testament to his hard work.

And despite the crowd, whenever there’s a lull in the influx of warm bodies demanding his attention, he finds a moment to wind back to Dream, to give him a refill, a new anecdote, an observation about a patron, or just a smile before he’s called back to duty.

Dream enjoys their conversations, but he enjoys simply watching Hob at work as well, and he has had plenty of opportunities to do so over the last year. Since his escape from Fawney Rig and the subsequent demands of his office, his visits to the Waking world had became much more frequent. But not only because of his duties, but also thanks to the newly rediscovered pleasure of Hob’s company.

They agreed to meet once a month, so Hob could more thoroughly catch Dream up on all the things he has missed during the years of his…detainment, and slowly conversations over a drink turned into invites to, quote, “hang out” with Hob outside of the New Inn as well. Some things are better shown than told, he said, and Dream smiled and complied rather too easily. Their monthly meetings became weekly, and though Dream was notoriously prone to getting lost in his work, he suddenly found himself in the habit of time keeping and counting down days until their next meeting.

Today, however, is special. The calendar on the wall reads June 7th in bold black letters. A day as any other, but also their day.

Dream watches Hob, circling the rim of his glass with his finger.

Currently Hob is held at the other end of the bar by a pair of young giggling women he seems to be familiar with, presumably his students. They keep glancing in Dream’s direction, and Hob’s face is growing redder by the minute. He keeps shaking his head, disputing whatever notion they’re pushing, but the girls seem relentless.

Eventually, when he makes his way back to Dream, Dream cannot help letting his curiosity take over.

“Your students?”

Hob nods, a faint flush still visible on his cheeks.

“What were they inquiring about?”

Hob huffs, shaking his head. “They were making fun of their old history professor, s’wat they been doing.”

Dream rises his eyebrows at him.

Hob sighs, fidgeting under the gaze, but eventually breaks.

“They were asking if you were a good kisser,” he admits, darting away with his gaze as soon as he says it, tugging nervously at his ear.

Dream’s eyebrows shoot up even higher. “Were they? What did you tell them?”

Hob blinks at him. “The truth? That I wouldn’t know?”

“Hmm,” Dream hums, twirling the amber liquid in his glass. He slowly puts it down, then reaches across the bar and pulls Hob towards him, leaning in to join their lips. Hob makes a noise of surpise against him but then falls into the kiss, tasting the whiskey from Dream’s lips.

When Dream pulls back, Hob sways on his feet, looking lost with his mouth hanging open and pupils dilated. His hands clench, frozen in midair as if he wanted to hold onto Dream but wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

There’s a whistle and laughter from the other side of the bar.

Dream picks up his glass again and smiles at Hob beatifically. “There. So you could give them an honest review.”

Hob blinks at him and makes a noise like a squeezed rubber duck.

Dream cannot help the grin tugging on his lips as he nods in the direction of the women, encouraging Hob to return back to them to relay his impressions.

Hob unfreezes slowly, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair and muttering “bloody hell” under his breath before he hesitently makes his way back to the other side of the bar. The students immediately latch onto him, rejuvinated by the display as well as the liquir running through their veins.

When Hob comes back to uncork new bottles for the customers he is unusually quiet and the red on his cheeks seems to have made a permanent residence there.

As he grabs for a bottle of tequilla it slips from his fingers and shatters on the floor, minutely interrupting the rumor of conversations before they’re picked up again.

“Bollocks!” He curses.

Dream hears himself laugh. Not a full on raucous laugh, just a chuckle, but Hob looks at him with wide eyes, as if he was seeing the eight wonder of the world.

Hob laughs too, breaking the moment, and returns his attention to the shattered bottle.

“Look what you’ve done to me!” he says, grabbing for a broom and glancing at Dream with mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Menace.”

Dream hides his smile in his glass. He feels a sparkling feeling in his chest, which doesn’t seem right because alcohol shoud have no effect on him unless he lets it. Perhaps his control is slipping, or perhaps it’s just the pleasent buzz of the evening and good company.

Perhaps he doesn’t mind all that much, letting his control slip tonight.

Having cleaned the mess, Hob comes back to him, as he always does, and gives him a crooked smile. “You’ve just about made their day tonight. I won’t hear the end of it at the uni, thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Dream drawls, leaning his head on his hand. He gives Hob a once-over, gesturing at his shirt that’s been soaked by the alcohol. “You might want to take that off.”

Hob looks at his shirt, then back at Dream, huffing in disbelief. “Was that the plan all along??”

“An unforseen benefit.”

“Uhuh,” Hob says, giving Dream a dubious look. “Heavens, you are in a mood tonight. Should have given me a warning beforehand, I don’t know if I can survive a whole evening of this,” he says, gesturing at the whole of Dream.

“You can survive anything,” Dream reminds him.

“Physically, maybe, but my composure? My dignity? My sanity? I am really not all that sure, love.”

Dream smiles, keeps smiling, really, as he doesn’t seem to be able to do otherwise tonight. He downs the last sip of whiskey along with the sweet tingle of Hob’s endearment.

“Want a refill?” Hob nods at his empty glass. “Or would you like to try something new? Something more daring?” he says, rising his eyebrows in a challenge. “Since that seems to be the vibe tonight.”

Dream hums. “Perhaps i would like to try something old.”

If Dream knew Hob’s reactions to a little bit of flirting would be so entertaining, he would have endeavoured to do so sooner. Hob grows even redder in the face if that’s even possible, huffing and blinking rapidly, seemingly unable to decide what to do with his hands which he twists together, then crosses across his chest, then lets fall against his sides again, smoothing down the seams of his trousers.

He shakes his head and rubs his forehead.

“You’re something else, Dream,” he says with a deep sigh.

“Yes, that is a correct assesment.”

Hob rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Mickey!” He yells at a regular at a nearby table, “would you like to make a quick buck? Can you come over to man the bar for a minute? I need to change.”

“Sure thing, mate!”

Hob takes of his apron, muscles flexing underneath the shirt made half translucent, and Dream wants.

“Do you need assistance,” he asks nonsensically, but Hob understands it for the proposal that it is.

Hob’s eyes grow wide. He laughs, shaking his head. “Christ, if I were really working here I would get fired for this,” he says, but he beckons at Dream who slips from his chair and joins Hob at the other side of the bar. Hob puts his hand on his back and nudges him towards the backroom.

“Lucky you are the owner, then,” Dream points out.

“Yeah, lucky,” Hob says, hand slipping around Dream’s waist from behind, and kisses Dream’s neck as he closes the door behind them.

——————

Happy 7th of June dreamling nation!

Here’s something for ‘Ep6 continuation’ prompt of Dreamling Week :)

#dreamling #dreamlingweek2023 #dreamlingweek #dreamling week #dreamling week 2023 #my writing #the sandman #sandman #dream x hob #hob x dream #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dream the endless #morpheus #sandman dreamling #not beta-ed we die like jessamy

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the-cloudy-dreamer · 11 months

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Peak through at a secret garden in springtime. Promises start out so little, just a peek of green things. And then over time — a hundred years, and then a few hundred more — they grow bigger, and unfurling. It would be impossible to guess what color they would be before they bloomed.

When Dream realized he trails off into wide-eyed quiet. Hob was still touching him, his thumb against the corner of Dream’s mouth. Slowly, he leaned in and let the kiss blossom between them.

Happy Dreamling week from @quillingwords and myself ✨ thank you for writing something specially for my illustration my heart is so warmed my friend 🖤

Also again but thank you to @mr-sadman for organizing this event! Seeing all the fandom together for this has been a delight and I’m so happy we get to share in the dreamling fun!

#the sandman #dreamlingweek2023 #dreamlingweek #dreamling #sandman fanart #dream x hob #dream of the endless #hob gadling #cloudy illustrates #editorial illustration #hire me to illustrate your fanfic please 🙏

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twottie-m8 · 11 months

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Dreamling Week Day 6 || Jealousy

cringefail when you hire your boyfriend to waiter at your restaurant thinking you could flirt with him while on the clock but all the customers fancy him too

#dreamling #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #art #my art #late today because i had no good ideas for this day orz #clip studio paint

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valeriianz · 11 months

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Dreamling Week June 7: 'Fake Dating' | human au

This was a mistake.

Dream sits outside the fitting room, back against a mirror as he waits for Hob to come out and show him his next choice. They were going to a wedding together, which in itself was fine, but the context behind it…

Dream should have said no. Should have scathingly told Hob to grow a pair and just deal with his family’s judgment. It wasn’t a bad thing to be single, but apparently in Hob’s family, being single at 35 years old, and for the past nine years, was a problem.

Dream had often wondered how Hob had remained single for such a long time, he knew his friend was a catch. Charismatic, wicked smart, and roguishly handsome to boot. Dream couldn’t deny how he’d often catch himself staring at Hob, looking twice at him when they went out with friends, his smile wide and posture loose from a couple drinks. Or while Dream would help him build lesson plans, peeking sideways as Hob’s glasses began to slip down his nose and his hair would fall in his face.

Or while he was trying on suits for his cousin’s wedding. Where they would be attending as a couple.

“Hob…” Dream had given him a flat look, controlling his features into something unreadable while his heart threatened to burst from his chest. “This is absurd. Could we not attend as we are– as friends?”

“That’s the easiest part!” Hob’s eyes were wide and imploring. “We’re already friends! They won’t even question it.”

And then he’d gone on a tirade that Dream was quite familiar with, having been Hob’s friend for so long, about how his family had moved on from being subtle to outright dogging Hob about his love life. Why hadn’t he settled down yet? Who was going to continue the Gadling name, if not their only son? At your age… With your talents and charms… Such a waste… on and on and Hob, understandably, was sick of it.

Any further complaints had died on Dream’s tongue. He should have tried harder to convince Hob that this was a stupid idea. That his family’s opinion didn’t matter. That Hob should keep living as he had been in spite of it all. Because honestly, in what universe could this possibly work? How does this not end with Dream vulnerable and weak and wanting?

Because Dream was head over heels obsessed with Hob. No, he wouldn’t say the L word. It wasn’t like that. He knew better than to fall into that trap again. It was easier, somehow, to be a little more deranged about it. A little unhinged… delusional.

Especially as he watched Hob walk out of the little changing room for the third time now, eyes stuck on the jacket around Hob’s shoulders, broad and strong, accentuating the lines of his arms and back, cinched slightly at the waist. His thoughts tripping and staggering as Hob’s long legs move to a full length mirror across from Dream, unashamedly staring at Hob’s thighs, firm and thick, and up to his ass, which the dark blue slacks hugged so well.

Hob is pulling on the collar, turning this way and that, oblivious to the war raging inside of Dream.

“I don’t know about this one…” Hob is murmuring, tugging now on end of the sleeves. “Not sure if blue is my color.”

Blue is absolutely Hob’s color. Dream wants to say how fetching it looks against Hob’s golden brown skin, how it makes him look regal yet soft. How great it would look on the floor of the hotel room they would be staying at– oh fuck, Dream had forgotten about that. They’d be sharing a room.

Dream stood just as Hob kicked a leg out, looking down.

“And the pants are too long.”

“We can get that hemmed,” Dream kept his face impassive as he stepped up behind Hob, briefly meeting his eyes in the mirror before looking at the jacket.

He brushed his hands across Hobs shoulders, dusting off invisible lint, then down his back, straightening out invisible wrinkles. Before looking up again at the floor length mirror across from them.

They are nearly of height, Dream has maybe half an inch on Hob and can see how he stands behind Hob in the reflection. Can see how Hob has stilled and his eyes locked onto his. How he is staring back at Hob, his pupils shaking slightly, like he’s staring at something delicious. Dream swallows, letting his imagination wander.

He thinks about pressing up against Hob’s back, so his groin would slip comfortably against that perfectly round ass, how it might feel to get his hands on Hob’s waist, pulling so he could feel the way Hob’s shoulders fit atop Dream’s chest.

How Dream’s hands would slip around to Hob’s front, getting his fingers inside the fitted jacket and pressing them incessantly– intentionally, along the soft cotton of the white button down, how Hob’s skin might feel against it. How Dream’s hands would trail up to his chest, undoing those buttons as he went, revealing the thick dark hairs there and getting briefly distracted enough to comb his fingers through that mane, tilting his head to growl in Hob’s ear as he tightened his fingers and pulled just to hear what noise Hob would make in return.

And while Dream’s lips were at Hob’s ear, he’d trail them down to his neck, biting into the unmarked flesh, tasting the salt and aftershave with his tongue, peppering kisses even lower as he pulled the fabric of the shirt and jacket off his shoulders completely and imagining the eager, wanton grown that would tumble from Hob’s lips as he tilted his head back, getting his own hand around the back of Dream’s head to pull him in for a sloppy kiss–

Dream blinked and found himself still standing behind Hob, who was fully dressed and looking back at him and– was he breathing heavy?

The daydream only lasted a second, just a flash of a fantasy Dream indulged in, but now he wonders if he’d been too obvious. He’s staring back at Hob, pupils dilated and lips parted slightly, like a panting dog about to pounce.

Dream clears his throat and looks down the length of the mirror, accidentally settling them on the seat of Hob’s pants and distractedly averting his gaze again to Hob’s back, the dark blue fabric before him.

“You look good, Hob.” Dream manages to force the words out, his voice lower than usual, hungry. “I think this is the one.”

“Yeah.” Why does Hob sound breathless? “Yeah I like this one.”

Dream nods and forces every cell in his body to step back, away from Hob and allow him to turn back to the fitting room. He keeps his gaze down, waiting until Hob is conveniently out of sight before he allows the heat he can feel crawling up his neck to make its way to his face.

[for @watercubebee and our shared obsession with seeing Hob in nice clothes and wanting Dream to tear them off of him *handshake*]

#dreamling #hob x dream #dreamlingweek #dreamlingweek2023 #this isn't the smut i promised and for that i apologize lol #some day i will write them fucking in a fitting room #mark my words!#my writing

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mollymagician · 11 months

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Dreamling Week Day 2: stuck in an elevator

Hi guys!! *shows up three days late with a Starbucks, two immortals and an old lady stuck in an elevator*

It was June 7th. Not THE June 7th, not the big one, they’re a few years off from that yet, but a random rainy 7th of June, and Hob was off doing errands. He’d have been a lot more disgruntled about slogging half way around the city in a pelting downpour if he hadn’t known that Dream would pop up somewhere, he always somehow managed it on this specific date.

But it’s still a surprise when he suddenly comes into being just as Hob is about to hop onto the lift at stop #2 on his to-do list.

Hob shoots him a grin. “Fancy seeing you out and about on such a miserable day.”

Dream replied with the small smile that seemed to be his grin-equivalent. “I thought you could use…assistance holding your umbrella?”

There was a ding as the doors slid open, and then began to close behind them as they stepped inside. Suddenly, Dream’s arm shot out, inhumanly quick and totally lacking the primal human fear of getting one’s fingers squished.

The doors sprang back open, revealing a stooped and wrinkled figure shuffling along behind a walker. Her gray hair was bundled into a messy bun, and gray eyes were magnified enormously by the thickest glasses Hob had ever seen.

Her name was Gladys, they would soon come to find out.

She didn’t seem to notice that Dream somehow knew what floor to push for her without asking, just crackled, “Oh, thank you kindly, dearie!” and Hob stifled a snicker. Dearie.

The lift began to rise. They made it to the sixth floor before the power went out.

Gladys sighed and pronounced with feeling, “Oh bugger!”

Gladys was eighty-two years old, never trusted elevators, but was delighted to be stuck in one with “two such handsome young men!”

“Er…I’m sure the power will be back up in a tick,” Hob said. Gladys settled comfortably on the seat of her walker, seemingly very content with her lot.

“So romantic, eh boys? Just like those little stories my granddaughter likes to write!” She gave Hob a wink. Dream’s head tilted and he took on the far-away look he got whenever he was accessing his mental metaphysical Google, or whatever it was he did. Hob could tell when he finally found what he was looking for, because his eyebrows shot up so high they nearly cleared the top of his head.

Fifteen minutes later:

“Well lads, thank the good Lord I had a piddle before I came or we’d be in dire straights right about now!”

Standing behind Gladys, Dream reached into his coat and produced his pouch of sand, giving Hob a look that he could only translate as is it really necessary for us all to be stuck in this box?

Hob wasn’t sure how to telegraph we cannot throw sand at a little old woman and teleport her out of a lift because she will have a STROKE with nothing but expressive eyebrows so he just shook his head and shot Dream his sternest look. It worked on his students…usually. Dream signed and put the sand away obediently.

Another fifteen minutes:

They had heard about Gladys’ late husband, her three grandchildren and how lovely the cardiologist was that she’d been on her way to visit before her morning got derailed. She rummaged around in her purse. “Like a mint, dears?”

Hob swore under his breath at his phone. “Connection is wretched in here. I can’t get through to anyone.” Dream patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. Hob could FEEL him restraining himself from pulling his sand out and dangling it in Hob’s face.

“I’m sure everything will be fine, lovie. I think I have a deck of cards about, somewhere…” More purse-rummaging. “Oh, and a sandwich! Bless, I forgot that was there.”

Ten more minutes:

“So,” Gladys said, “How long have you two been together, eh? I’d have been celebrating fifty years with my Bert this July.”

Silence. Distantly, Hob could hear the rain pounding against the building, echoing down the elevator shaft.

“Er…” he began, eloquently.

“That is…” he continued.

“Oh go on, it’s all right,” Gladys chirped. “My grandson, the one at university, he’s got himself a nice boyfriend. I said to myself, I said, Gladys, you can tell when two lads are sweet on one another, so don’t go challenging anyone to strip poker.” She pulled the deck of cards out of her purse and winked. “Yet.”

“Um,” Hob said.

“Sometimes it feels like six hundred years,” Dream intoned.

Gladys cackled and bopped the Immortal Endless King of Dreams and Nightmares on the arm with her purse. “Oh, listen to this one here!”

“It is…our anniversary,” Dream added.

He reached over to nudge Hob’s jaw shut with a little click, and then tugged Hob into his side like…like it was just something they did. And yes, that was definitely a smirk.

The power chose that moment to come back on.

“Oh…bugger,” Hob said.

——————————————-

They made it back down to the lobby with little incident. Gladys shuffled off to call her daughter, she said, since her doctors appointment was a bust. But first, she gave Hob a surprisingly crushing handshake and thumped Dream on the shoulder and said, loudly, “Well, thank you for the LOVELY time, boys. Let’s hope that the next time you’re stuck in a lift on your anniversary it’s not with an old bird like me hanging around, eh?” She executed a frankly indecent eyebrow wiggle, and shuffled away, humming to herself.

Hob stood for a moment watching her go, and realized he didn’t have the patience for any more of that day’s to-do list. He was to-do’ed out, as it were. Except for one thing. He glanced up at Dream and tried hard to control the idiot grin attempting to take over his face.

“We need to talk,” Hob said.

“That was partially my intent when I came to visit you today,” Dream said, still smirking, the bastard.

“Partially?”

“I must admit, I’d hoped that talking wouldn’t be our only activity.”

Hob sighed. “Right. I’m not hiking back to the tube in this weather. Get back in the lift, dearie. This time you can sand us all you like.”

Dream said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#dreamling #DreamlingWeek2023 #stuck in an elevator #I like to think that a few years later Death pops in on the guys as they’re celebrating yet another anniversary #to tell them Gladys says hello #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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amielot · 11 months

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Assisted Respiration

Been wanting to clean up some January sketches . Dreamling week enabled me -> the ocean prompt

That siren au by @moorishflower

#dreamlingweek2023 #dreamlingweek #dreamling week 2023 #dreamling #12 hours late #time is an illusion #slaps the roof of all the siren aus that exist #these bad boys can fit so much CPR kissing in them #cough #what?#siren au #the art tag #cw drowning #the wine dark sea

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teejaystumbles · 11 months

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for Dreamling Week prompt "ocean" (and "monsterfucking") <3 <3

I made a Pillowfort account just for this - please note the nsfw tag:

LINK

#dreamling #dreamlingweek2023 #hell or high water #merman hob #teejaystumbles #is this my first time drawing sth like this? maybe? hoho #the sandman fanart #monsterfucker morpheus

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inennui · 11 months

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~Sick~ Dreamling Week 2023 hosted by @mr-sadman

#retired dream #human au #You know when you're sick & either shivery too cold or sweaty too hot?#Dream's shivery #Hob's sweltering #the saddest wettest cat #sandman netflix #sandman #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dreamling week 2023 #dreamling week #dreamlingweek #dreamlingweek2023 #myart #fanart #morpheus #my art

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rexwrendraws · 11 months

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Dreamling Week 2023 — Day 2: Dragons

Inspired by Flatter the Mountain Tops by @teejaystumbles and @amielot 's art for the au! (B&W version under the cut :] )

#have been itching to make fanart for this au/fic for a long time and this was the perfect opportunity hehe #two days behind dreamling week but thats okay at least im drawing again!! :D #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #dreamling #the sandman #hob gadling #morpheus #dream of the endless #dc #OH AND HAPPY DREAMLING DAY WHOO #rex draws #the values on this were really fighting with me but thats okay lmao ill draw them again sometime maybe #teejaystumbles #amielot #dragons #dreamling dragons AU

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martybaker · 11 months

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Dreamling week Day 7 - AU

A Knight’s Tale screencap redraws because i cannot stop thinking about this au, it fits them too well

Hob pretending to be a knight, Dream aksing him to lose to prove his feelings, then asking him to win 🙃

Also, I tried drawing Matthew as a human but it didn’t feel right, so for the purposes of this au let’s say he’s a shapeshifter?? 😅

idk we’re sprinkling in a little magic i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also please do zoom in or check out the close ups under read more, the horizontal format makes them so small on the app 🥹

Versions without bg

#dreamling #dreamling week #dreamlingweek #dreamlingweek2023 #dreamling week 2023 #the sandman #hob x dream #dream x hob #my art #sandman #sandman fanart #dream of the endless #dream the endless #hob gadling #a knight’s tale au #dreamling a knight’s tale au #pls don’t percieve the hands i kinda gave up on making them detailed 😅#drawing dream’s hand already took ages agsfdgah

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hardly-an-escape · 10 months

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I'm stuck on you (I'm mighty glad you stayed)

Square: D3 - "Why did you do it?" (June monthly prompt replacement) Rating: M Word Count: 8767 Ship(s): Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Warnings: No archive warnings apply Additional Tags: Dreamling Bingo fill, alternate universe - human, alternate universe - no powers, stuck in an elevator, claustrophobia, panic attacks, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, first kiss, post-break up sex, bog people, poetry recitation, bisexual Hob Gadling Summary: Hob is a secondary school teacher running late to meet his exacting girlfriend for lunch. Morpheus is a famous novelist just trying to fly under the radar on his way home. But when the elevator they’re in together experiences mechanical difficulties, Morpheus’s claustrophobia leads to a bonding experience that changes the lives of both men. Read on AO3 | fill for @dreamlingbingo | prompt from #dreamlingweek2023

The elevator has barely lurched into motion when it suddenly shudders to a stop. Hob is willing to bet it hasn’t even surfaced from the depths of the underground parking garage he is trying to exit. He rolls his eyes, checks his watch, and presses the door open button. Nothing happens. He presses it again, and a third time. Nothing. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “I don’t need this, I’m already late.” He hits the emergency call button with perhaps a little more force than is necessary and glances over his shoulder at the other occupant of the elevator, a handsome, dark-haired man who nods tightly when Hob catches his eye. “Alright, mate?” he asks. But before the man can answer, a tinny voice crackles through the speaker.

Hour Zero, 12:08 PM

Nothing happens.

He presses it again, and a third time. Nothing.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “I don’t need this, I’m already late.”

He hits the emergency call button with perhaps a little more force than is necessary and glances over his shoulder at the other occupant of the elevator, a handsome, dark-haired man who nods tightly when Hob catches his eye.

“Alright, mate?” he asks. But before the man can answer, a tinny voice crackles through the speaker.

“Templeton Elevator Company. Are you experiencing an emergency?”

“Yeah, we’re in the lift at the underground car park on Monteagle and it’s just stopped.”

The tinny voice asks a series of questions, which Hob answers with increasing impatience.

There are two people in the elevator. Yes, they’re both adults. No, they don’t have any food or water with them. No, they don’t have any pressing medical issues (after waiting for a headshake from the stranger). Yes, he’ll hold while they contact technical services.

The tinny voice is replaced with tinny hold music. Hob curses under his breath again.

After a moment the voice returns. The elevator they are currently occupying appears to be experiencing a mechanical failure. High demand on technical services at this time. Their safety is important to the Templeton Elevator Company. A repair technician should arrive within the hour.

Click. And then silence.

“Fuck,” says Hob again, feelingly. “Fucking fuck.”

He sighs. Sits down. Takes out his mobile. No signal, of course. Or wait – maybe one bar? He dashes off a quick text to Gwen and sets the phone down gingerly on the floor in front of the door, thinking vaguely that the signal might filter down through the elevator shaft. It’s probably daft.

Heh. Shaft, daft.

He is going to lose his mind.

Hour One, 12:08-1:08 PM

“My girlfriend’s going to kill me,” he says conversationally. “We’re supposed to be getting lunch with some old school friends of hers. I’m already on thin ice, she’s always getting on me about being late all the time. This’ll probably be the final nail in my coffin.”

“Surely,” says the stranger, “being trapped in an elevator is a reasonable excuse for tardiness.”

“Yeah… She’s a bit strict about some things. I don’t know. She just wants the best for us, she’s just a little intense about it sometimes.” Hob shakes himself. “Sorry, mate. I shouldn’t be whinging to a total stranger. My name’s Hob, by the way. Hob Gadling.”

They are both sitting, now, on opposite sides of the elevator. Hob’s legs are stretched out casually and the stranger has his knees up, his arms wrapped tightly around them, hands gripping his own elbows, knuckles white. He looks almost defensive, Hob thinks, extending his hand across the elevator to shake. After a moment, the stranger takes it, squeezing briefly.

“Hob. That’s an… atypical name,” he says.

“Suppose so,” Hob laughs. “It’s Robert, actually. Hob is an old-fashioned nickname, but I got saddled with it in uni and it just sort of stuck. I studied history,” he adds in explanation.

“I am – you can call me Murphy,” says the stranger. Murphy. It has the flavor of untruth about it, but if a stranger on an elevator doesn’t feel comfortable giving his real name, who is Hob to judge?

“Pleasure. Have we met before? Only there’s something about you that seems familiar.”

“I do not think so.”

Murphy curls, if anything, even tighter in on himself. Hob does not pursue the topic.

They sit in silence for a while as the air grows slowly stuffier.

Hob taps at his phone and tsks when he sees his text has failed to send.

“I don’t suppose you have any service?” he asks hopefully.

Murphy pulls out a slim, expensive-looking phone from the pocket of his slim, expensive-looking suit jacket and gives it a cursory glance.

“I am afraid not,” he says.

“Damn. Oh well. Nothing for it but to wait, I suppose.”

Murphy clears his throat.

“How long has it been now?”

“About… twenty minutes?” Hob looks at his watch. “Twenty-five?”

“Thank you.”

Murphy’s voice is taut, and his knuckles are white where he is gripping his knees. Looking more closely, Hob can see sweat beading on his forehead, and realizes his chest is moving a little too quickly.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“I am fine.”

“No offense, but you don’t look fine, mate.”

“We are not mates,” snaps Murphy. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Okay, okay.” Hob holds up placating hands. “Whatever you say. No need to bite a bloke’s head off.”

Silence reigns for another minute.

“I. Apologize,” says Murphy finally. “That was uncalled for.”

“No worries.”

“The truth is that I am. Not fond. Of confined spaces. I am finding the prospect of being in this elevator for much longer. Distressing.”

“God, I’m sorry. You should have said. I ought to have told the elevator company, I’m sure claustrophobia counts as a medical issue,” says Hob. “Especially under the circumstances.”

But Murphy is already shaking his head.

“It does not rise to the level of a diagnosable condition,” he says.

“Even so,” objects Hob. “Do you want to call back? Tell them? Maybe it’ll get someone here more quickly.”

“It does not matter.”

“Isn’t there… is there anything I can do to help?”

Murphy looks puzzled.

“Why would you want to help? You do not know me.”

“Because I have a basic sense of empathy?” Hob says, slightly appalled. “Because you’re a human being who’s distressed? Jesus, what kind of people do you hang out with?”

“You will probably be shocked to hear,” says Murphy dryly. “That I have very few close associates and even fewer friends.” Hob snorts. “But I. Thank you. For your willingness to help. Unless you happen to have a Xanax somewhere on your person, I doubt there is anything you can do.”

“And here I am fresh out of benzodiazepines. I knew I’d forgotten something at the chemist’s this morning,” Hob says, and is rewarded with a tiny chuckle.

The rest of the hour passes slowly, but not too badly. They chat, stiffly at first, but more fluently after Murphy admits that the conversation is helping to distract him from the little metal box they find themselves in. Hob certainly talks more – but then, Hob generally talks more than everyone, something Gwen not infrequently rolls her eyes at.

He learns they both were graduated from Oxford, although their time there didn’t overlap. Murphy is cagey about what he does for a living, but shares that he studied literature and dabbled in student drama. He seems interested when Hob tells him about the secondary school where he currently works, teaching history.

“It’s funny, I used to picture myself as a professor at a university, you know, doing my own research on the side, publish or perish, all that,” he says. “Gwen – that’s my girlfriend – she thinks that would be better. Sounds better to be a professor, I guess; more money, too. But now that I’m working with teenagers, I can’t imagine doing anything else. They get a bad rap from everyone, you know, but they’re so interested in the world, and all they want is for someone to listen to them and take them seriously…”

Read on AO3 >>>

massive massive thanks to @tryan-a-bex and @karalynlovescake for beta reading. I can't thank you enough!

green = complete, orange = WIP

#the sandman #dreamling #dreamlingweek2023 #dreamling bingo #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #once again coming in hot and barely getting a monthly prompt filled in time lmao

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twottie-m8 · 11 months

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Dreamling Week Day 3 || Road Trip

#dreamling #DreamlingWeek2023 #DreamlingWeek #art #my art #HATED drawing the underside of the car #clip studio paint

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valiantstarlights · 11 months

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[Dreamling Week Day 4: Fake Dating] Fidelity

This is from the Comic!Hob x Show!Dream and Comic!Dream x Show!Hob AU, inspired by @alexxuun 's art. I'm interpreting 'fake dating' to mean miscommunication between 3 parties, where one thinks that the other two are dating, but they're really not.

This is the continuation of (and the actual happy ending I imagined for) The Burning House (AO3 | tumblr).

CW: Comic!Hob being mean, angst (heartache) with a happy ending.

Dream watches Hob, his Hob, the one he has been in love with for a long time, walk away and close the door behind him.

And he cannot, he cannot...

Dream of the Endless does not need to breathe, but he thinks he might be hyperventilating.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

He flinches and shakes off the hand that the other Hob has placed upon his shoulder. "Do not call me that."

"Do not call you--" This Hob, the other, more arrogant one, who does not look like his Hob at all, laughs in his face. "So, what, now that your Hob is back, you're just throwing me away?"

Dream raises his chin. "It was your decision to stay. Not mine."

And it was. He had said and done nothing to convince this Hob to stay or leave. He had still been reeling from the feeling of his Hob suddenly disappearing from this universe, and he had been waiting by the portal that appeared, hoping against hope that his Hob would return to him.

And every second the portal remained open and his Hob isn't stepping through made him think, 'Have I not suffered enough? Am I fated to lose everyone I love?'

Hob, the one constant in his life for 600 years, suddenly taken from him. Not by his sister, but by the universe itself. He had been unable to withstand it.

And then this Hob came and swooped him up. Promising to stay. And Dream, heartbroken beyond fixing, allowed him to touch and to do to him what he wanted his Hob to do to him. He had been held and kissed, and he had received the other Hob's touches like a lifeless doll.

And then his Hob returned.

Returned and seen, misunderstood and left.

Dream cannot take any more heartbreak. He doesn't think he has enough of his heart left to break, but apparently, there are still large enough shards to be crushed under a heel and ground to dust.

This Hob, the other one, the one he does not even love, has a cruel smile on his face. "Fucking typical behavior from a Dream of the Endless," he says, his even teeth bared like fangs. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? You, and the one from my universe."

"You should leave," Dream says.

"And go where?" This Hob asks. "Do you see a portal back to my universe anywhere, sweetheart? Can you conjure one up? You seem pretty helpless awhile ago, looking at the portal like a heartsick maiden waiting for her one true love to come back from the sea."

"The rest of the world is wide enough, is it not?" Dream says. "And if you and my Hob have a similar history, then you must have also sailed around the world in the 1700s."

This Hob snorts. "'My Hob,'" he repeats mockingly. "He's not yours, Dream. Weren't you paying attention? He thinks we're together now."

"And yet we are not."

"You know, this reminds me of when we met in the 1800s, when you claimed you weren't lonely. Well, newsflash, Dream of the Endless, you're so fucking lonely that any Hob would do for you. If my counterpart had not returned, you would have happily spread your legs for me and wept so prettily while crying my name."

Never. Dream would have wept, but he would not have accepted another Hob that isn't his into his body. "An eventuality that will not happen," he says, "since my Hob has returned to me."

This Hob shakes his head, chuckling. "Again with the 'my Hob.' He's not yours, darling. And having seen him for myself, seeing how he looked at us, I know he's never going to take you back. I wouldn't, if I were him. And," this Hob pretends to think about it before he snaps his fingers as if he just remembered something. "Oh yeah. I am him."

"He is not you," Dream says, though he feels himself wavering. The two Hobs might not be the same person, but they still have a similar enough history. Would Dream be able to claim he knows his Hob better than Hob's own counterpart in another universe? "I will...I will talk to him." He will do anything for Hob to look at him again without heartbreak clear in his beloved brown eyes.

This Hob looks at him derisively. "You? Talk about feelings? Not exactly your strong suit, but alright. I'll wish you luck with that, sweetheart." He smiles savagely. "You'll need it."

Dream looks away from him and stands up, not bothering to smooth out his wrinkled clothes and instead just uses his sand to do it for him. A second later, his clothes looked impeccable once more. "You should go, Robert."

"You sure you don't want me to stay and offer you a pity fuck when my counterpart eventually throws your feelings back in your face?"

Dream ignores him and walks down the same path his Hob took and goes down to the Inn.

"That was quick," was what his Hob says the moment he spots Dream sit down on one of the barstools. He says nothing else and goes back to repairing the beer tap.

"Hob."

"Hold on, I need to concentrate on this for a bit or it's gonna spew beer all over the counter."

Dream obeys and watches him fiddle and tinker with the thing in silence. It looks pretty old by modern standards, but Hob still handles it with care.

Just like he handles everything with care.

Dream watches Hob's handsome features, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his rough, capable hands and the muscles on his forearms, the width of his chest and the lock of hair falling down his face...

Hob does not see, but Dream's hands are slightly shaking. He is terrified that anything he says will push Hob further away from him.

That he has all the words in the English language available to him would mean nothing if he cannot put them in the right order to make Hob understand that it's only him for Dream.

He needs to be honest. State his feelings clearly and earnestly so that when his words reach Hob, he will feel the sincerity in Dream's words.

He needs to be brave, even when he's fucking terrified. He thinks inanely that walking through hell isn't half as difficult compared to this.

Hob is sticking his tongue out a little as he concentrates on turning a bolt, spanner in hand, and it draws Dream's eyes to his tongue, then to his lips.

It looks redder than usual.

Dream's nostrils flare in anger as he catches the feeling of something other that clings to Hob's lips like a miasma.

Had the other Dream..? Had he dared--

But of course he did. Dream could not think of anyone who would let his Hob go unkissed. And were he braver and more honest, he himself would not have let Hob depart in 1789 without kissing him senseless. He should have. He had thought of little else ever since Hob came to his defense. It had rained flower petals in the Dreaming for an entire decade. Jessamy had said nothing, but if ravens could smile, she would have worn a shit-eating grin on her face. Mervyn certainly did, while Lucienne had the best poker face of them all.

"Alright," Hob says, a few minutes later, when the beer tap looks in a slightly better condition and he had asked the bartender to call for an actual professional to either do longer lasting repair work, or advise them on the technicalities were they to upgrade to something more modern. "You wanted to talk?" Like his counterpart, his Hob sounds dubious about Dream's conversational skills.

"I will try," Dream says honestly. At least Hob knows not to expect much from him. It's a little disheartening, but Dream hopes it would mean that Hob would forgive him if he comes across like a bumbling fool rather than the actual Prince of Stories. "But before anything else, I would like you to know that you are the one I am in love with."

Hob trips a little on his way to sit on the barstool next to Dream's. It would have been funny had Dream not felt so desperate. "What? But...but you and the other me..."

Dream shakes his head. "I thought you were never coming back," he says, tears once again brimming from his eyes at the thought of Hob being gone from him forever. "I thought...The other you said..."

Hob clenches his fists. "What did he say? That I'm never coming back for you? Is that what he said?"

Dream hesitates, then nods miserably. "He said that you would not want to return because of how I treated you, and that you would pick any other Dream other than me. That I had been too cruel."

The other Hob said many other things, but that was the one that stings the most. The one that hits too close to home.

But Hob is seething in his seat, a coiled snake about to strike. "I'll kill him," he says. "I'll fucking kill him for saying that shit to you." He looks like he's going to get up and leave Dream to do just that to the other Hob, so Dream darts a hand out and squeezes Hob's hand in his.

Hob freezes at the touch, and Dream realizes that this is the first time in 600 years that the two of them had skin-to-skin contact. Hob is looking at their joined hands in shock and wonder. "Dream..."

"Stay with me," Dream says. Pleads.

"Alright," Hob says easily. He sits back down and intertwines their fingers, as if he's afraid that now that Dream has gotten him to stay, he's going to let go of Hob's hand. If it were up to Dream, he'll hold Hob's hand forever and never let go again. "Alright," Hob repeats. "He can live for one more day."

Dream huffs a laugh at the unexpected statement. "You should not kill yourself."

Hob scrunches his nose at how strange the sentence sounds in this context. "Trust me, Dream, if it's that bastard, I'm sure killing myself would feel cathartic."

Dream looks down and huffs a laugh again. He'd laugh a full-bellied laugh if it were just him and Hob in the room, but as it was, he'd rather not frighten both the employees and the customers of the New Inn.

Hob is smiling fondly at him when he looks back up, then clears his throat awkwardly when their eyes meet. "So. Just to be absolutely, perfectly clear on this, you definitely, definitely prefer me over that asshole?"

Dream nods shyly. His heart feels like it's beating too loudly that Hob must hear it. Or at least feel its frantic beat against their intertwined fingers.

He must be courageous and speak his mind. Hob will appreciate it. Hob has always been truthful to him, even at his worst. "It's not just prefer, I'm afraid," he says, slowly and carefully. He wants his words to convey the depth of feeling he has for this man. "I have been in love with you since the 1600s, longed for you the entire time I was imprisoned, especially on the day we were supposed to meet in 1989, but I only realized that it was love I felt for you when I saw you again in 2022, beautiful and waiting for me."

"Fuck, Dream." Hob tightens his hold on his hand. "You can't say things like that and expect me not to kiss you."

Dream unconsciously licks his lips and sees Hob watch the flick of his tongue with avid interest. Fortune favors the bold. "Kiss me."

'Please. I long to feel your body against mine and bask in the warm sunlight of your soul.'

Hob sways forward, but hesitates at the last second. "You're absolutely sure it's me you want?"

"Hob," Dream says, already leaning forward himself to lessen the distance between them. "You, this you, are the only one I have ever loved."

Hob makes a wounded noise and leans the last bit forward to capture Dream's lips in a perfect kiss. Dream kisses him back with all the passion he feels, and perhaps it is a bit too desperate for their first kiss, but he cannot be expected to hold back now. He wants this, has needed this, ever since he saw Hob again after his imprisonment.

Someone wolf-whistles in the background, and Dream realizes that they are still in the Inn. Hob moves as if to break the kiss and Dream whines, gripping Hob's coat tighter.

Not yet. He can't let go of Hob's lips just yet.

Hob calms and returns to kissing him back, and pulls Dream closer to him until they're both just standing in between the two barstools, lips locked like a pair of lovers who have been separated for far too long.

They'll be fine. It's not like anyone would kick Hob out since he owns the place, and Dream doesn't think Hob would let anyone kick Dream out. And besides, they deserve this. It's been a long time coming.

They kiss until Hob has to lean away to take a much needed breath of air, and once that's done, he leans in to kiss Dream again.

They kiss until Dream is satisfied that the other Dream's taste is gone from Hob's lips, until the two of them are wholly each other's Dream and Hob again, as it should be.

"I love you," Dream says. He does not know how much time has passed since they started kissing, but his lips are tingling pleasantly, and his heart feels lighter than it ever has in centuries.

"And I you," Hob says against his lips. There are tears in his eyes as he says this, and Dream leans up to kiss them away. "Gods, Dream, I think I've loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you."

Dream knows he does not deserve this wonderful man, but he's working on becoming someone who does. He's going to make Hob the happiest person in the world. "I apologize if I took too long to return your regard. I--"

Hob laughs and interrupts him with a quick peck. "Hey, none of that. We both got here in the end, didn't we?"

"We did," Dream says. He could not bear to think otherwise. He kisses Hob again to banish any remaining negative thoughts and doubts, and Hob happily returns his kiss.

Hob, his Hob, has chosen to return and come back to him. And Dream chooses him as well. No other Hob would do.

They are both right where they should be.

#happy 634th anniversary to dream and hob! 🥰🥰🥰🎉🎉🎉#dreamling #DreamlingWeek #DreamlingWeek2023 #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #new inn customer A: oh wow how long have they been kissing #new inn customer B: idk like a month maybe?#new inn customer C (who is an old lady): it's been 84 years #meanwhile comic!hob is making his way through all the goth twinks in the world #he'll be fine don't worry about him #showXcomic swap AU

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