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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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That said I'm also expanding work on the whole idea of 'Death as a Dream'

And in particular both the backstory and the way this one ends up working out. An obvious challenge with this narrative would be that if Death was a dream, when Dream was captured and the Dreaming fell apart and Dreams were weakening with them (which is IMO exactly why Jessamy died to begin with) then Death would see her powers fall apart too. This could either create a greater crisis if it went for the bad route where actual Endless Death died a long time ago and the being people think is the Endless is just a dream created in her memory.

Or it becomes a twisted kind of Kafka comedy where the Endless is actually living retired and was the first one to retire long, long before Destruction....who runs into her on a beach and the two set out to enjoy the post-titles life together. The dream has her power as essentially a Wizard of Oz illusion.....but the flip side of that is that in this case in a technical sense Burgess did get the right figure for the last 3.5 billion years of the universe's history......and that Desire's motivations are slightly broader.

Due to Death essentially faking her own demise and sodding off to live her own life, the other Endless believe Dream orchestrated their sister's death to hijack her realm and add it to his own. They walk on eggshells around him and even Destruction believes it until he finds his actual sister on that beach and then has a moment of rage 251 million years ago that leads, on Earth, to the event called the Great Dying....and then 300 years ago he joins Death after all that time.

And then Desire and Despair have a gift-wrapped opportunity to get vengeance for the sister they think is murdered.....and as the faux Endless's powers fall apart and dying doesn't they realize Death was never dead the entire time, and thus they end up being the ones stuck in a 'what the fuck just happened' while Dream-Death goes to find the genuine article, who decides she's going to rescue her brother after he's spent 20 years in the fishbowl and meaning she might have to retake her title after all.

And THAT is the basis of the family dramas and clashes here, as Death's ability to hide from Destiny means even HE thought she was genuinely murdered and usurped and her resurrection, in a sense, creates as many problems as it solves.

#death as a dream au #has a two edged sword factor #if death is only a dream then the question of if there ever was an Endless would come up #if she was only a dream then Burgess capturing Dream unravels the idea of death and dying #that would be the bad fork of the AU #where Death of the Endless the actual concept died a long time ago and Dream created the dream in her memory to act in her stead #meaning a full-scale illusion and guaranteed 'creation turns on creator' scenario #in that case it might not be the Corinthian that seeks to exploit Dream's capture or to create it #it could end up being Death-as-a-dream who discovers she was lied to about the nature of her existence #and takes it poorly #hence the bad fork #the good fork is that Death got her ideal world and was free to quit being an Endless and actually lived life for 3.5 billion years #and then Roderick Burgess demolishes her nice retired life #and she's pissed #and then the rest of her family reacts to her faking her own death and fucking off from all of them very poorly #except Dream who knew the entire time and set it up with her #because he gave her her own greatest dream in a very literal sense

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10moonymhrivertam · 2 years

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!!! Finally found my Eccleston-Tennant box set (it was exactly where it was supposed to be I just didn’t think that box was That Deep for some reason) so now I can actually write that Shakespeare Code commentary fic!!!

On the other hand not looking forward to the nostalgia-pain of the Harry Potter love fest, but due to the nature of Dream’s inquiry they do need to tell him about the high before the downfall anyway. I’ll probably just project really hard onto Johanna about it all. (Would project on Hob too but he’ll probably be too busy reminiscing about actual Love’s Labours Won/taking Robyn to the Globe when he could)

#already-dated new who my beloved #due to the constraints of real life everyone used bricks but I doubt Jack would’ve stood for that shit #and then the doc would’ve acquired smart phones for everyone out of habit after #(except Mickey which is partly a teasing thing and partly a ‘do you know what a security nightmare those things are?’)#I think the headcanon I have implemented to explain his enjoyment of HP despite the 2020s #is that the TARDIS just…deliberately has never let him see that. cuz he loves the books so much and it would devastate him #on the other hand that headcanon is quite flimsy cuz when would she ever coddle him #may or may not end up writing stuff for other episodes too may depend on engagement #I would *love* to examine Hob disliking the Professor Yana episode #cuz he doesn’t like the idea that he will eventually be pushed into outlasting literally everyone else or accepting Death #also Johanna realizing Dream is a dumbass who didn’t tell Hob about Burgess #so she uses her own Issues with the Nestene as an excuse to skip the Pandorica episodes #only for there to be something else in a different episode maybe a gunshot or too much focus on reflections or smthng #haven’t decided if I’m even going to acknowledge the Clara thing yet #may give jo my dislike of Clara for the lulz #also at some point matthew will join #and suggest supernatural as something else he should catch up on #…..just realized Dream may actually be inspired to go make that horrific combo monster -#of the Angels the vashta narada and the misprogrammed nanogenes

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userlaylivia · 1 year

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#yes another one lol the other polls except the two I did today will close soon lol #tumblr poll #polls #I'm just interested to see which ship is more popular lol #I only put burgess/roman to fill the space lol

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calder · 3 months

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In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

#dogmeat #v13 #meta #companions #animal death t

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alphynix · 11 months

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The tuzoiids were an enigmatic group of Cambrian invertebrates known mostly just from their spiny bivalved carapaces. Although hundreds of fossils of these arthropods were discovered over the last century or so, only vague fragments of the rest of their bodies have been found even in sites usually known for preserving soft tissue impressions.

…Until late 2022, when several new specimens from the Canadian Burgess Shale deposits (~508 million years ago) were described showing tuzoiid anatomy in exceptional detail, finally giving us an idea of what they looked like and where they fit into the early arthropod evolutionary tree.

Tuzoiids like Tuzoia burgessensis here would have grown up to about 23cm long (~9"). They had large eyes on short stalks, a pair of simple antennae, a horizontal fluke-like tail fan, and twelve pairs of appendages along their body – with the front two pairs at the head end being significantly spinier, and most (or all) of these limbs also bearing paddle-like exopods.

The large carapace enclosed most of the body, and was ornamented with protective spines and a net-like surface pattern that probably increased the strength of the relatively thin chitinous structure.

Together all these anatomical features now indicate that tuzoiids were early mandibulates (part of the lineage including modern myriapods, crustaceans, and insects), and were probably very closely related to the hymenocarines.

Tuzoiids seem to have been active swimmers that probably cruised around just above the seafloor, with their stout legs suggesting they could also walk around if they flexed their valves open. The arrangement of their spiny front limbs wasn't suited to grabbing at fast-swimming prey, but instead may have been used to capture slower seafloor animals or to scavenge from carcasses.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Twitter | Patreon

#science illustration #paleontology #paleoart #palaeoblr #tuzoia #tuzoiidae #hymenocarina #mandibulata #arthropod #invertebrate #cambrian explosion #art #MYSTERY TACO

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linddzz · 4 months

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Latest idea floating around in my head: a twist on the Hob saving Morpheus from the time-out ball, except that's where they first met each other.

Hob's still immortal, it's just that Death was the one who came and gave him the deal of meeting every 100 years

(is this also bc I'd love Death being Hob's centennial buddy? Her being way less reserved and straight up telling him who she is. Her delight at his delighting over life. The rage in him when Eleanor and Robyn die. Death took them and she wouldn't even say anything to him when she did it. Also I'd like to see him just immediately choke and squirm like a bastard as soon as he starts explaining his new shipping business to her in 1789. Yes and hell yes gimme Hobsie and Death as bros.)

So Hob is trying out new stuff again. He's never tried out being a magus and gets himself in as a member of Burgess' order and eventually an acolyte.

And then he's introduced to the "devil" that Burgess keeps in the dungeon. He's to help study up on strengthening the wards around the sphere and all that. And boy is he deeply, super uncomfortable with the sight of this frail man trapped in a cage.

("Don't let his pretty face fool you." Burgess will tell him, "the thing is a demon who would destroy us all if given half a chance."

To be fair, Morpheus does not help his case at all and his expression clearly says "you fuckin bet I will")

And Hob is Hob. So while he's working on studying up on wards (which so happens to involve a lot of careful, detailed study of the wards around the sphere) he's chatting at the thing in it. He complains about the boss, talks about the War, tells the demon about his day while the demon either glares at him or makes a hilariously big show of not paying attention. Sometimes Hob straight up shirks work (with a winking "you won't tell the boss right?") And just reads books.

And he nearly shrieks in surprise when he's reading some new novel called The Hobbit out loud and looks up to find the demon watching and obviously interested. So of course Hob is gonna keep reading him stories and keep studying those binding spells super closely.

And ok that's where I gotta admit the story doesn't have a solid conclusion in my head yet (besides obviously Hob is gonna bust Dream out and then get kissed a LOT) but I do have one bit where Morpheus first talks to him and of course it's just cryptic weird shit. Because Morpheus has started watching this shit-wizard who won't shut the fuck up back and can tell that something is OFF about him.

So just imagine Hob is yammering away about how he thinks the masters kid and the gardener have something going on, and he nearly shits himself when the "demon" presses a hand against the glass and says

"Death has touched you. I see it now. My siblings marks upon you. Is that what you are here for? To report to them? To let them see how low their family has come? So they do know what has come of me then, and they have sent you to chatter away and truly make it clear that they will do nothing."

Hob's just like. "WHAT?? SIBLINGS?! You TALK??! Hang on you know Death???!" But Morpheus already is back to curling in on himself in a furious pissy sulk

#dreamling #fic cooking #i imagine after Dreams outburst theres a lot more talking going on #idk if i have this fleshed out enough to fully write i just liked the idea of Hob reading Tolkien to the thing in the ball #and Morpheus being wooed with stories #the tension is ruined by me knowing that all it took was smearing the circle kdjfkd #maybe Hob purposely falls asleep to let Morpheus get out via his dreams

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theaceace · 5 months

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When Burgess summoned Dream, instead of Dream being completely cut off from the Dreaming, instead the magic pulled all of Fawney Rig into the soft places at the edge of the Dreaming, so like Dream still can't get out of the circle and his subjects can't get in but the Dreaming suffers much less and crucially, he still has access to some tiny fraction of his power

So now the whole house and everyone in it is sort of tied to the Dreaming and there's just oodles of magic coming off it, and the house in the Waking and the house in the Dreaming exist sort of superimposed over each other. Like you can be in one and sort of be aware of the other but you can't really flip between the two

And I want the whole thing to operate on a sort of combo between Aladdin in the cave of wonders/Orpheus leaving with Eurydice rules where it's said that if you enter the house in the Dreaming side and manage to find the Dream king, he'll grant you the thing you've been dreaming of, but the catch is you have to believe you have it. You have to leave the house without checking. So Burgess asks for Randall, but he turns to look almost before they're out of the basement because if he were Dream then he would pull a trick (TBF it wasn't actually Randall, just a dream of him, but Burgess couldn't tell the difference anyway because he was a terrible father and you can't change my mind). After that, he never managed to find the basement again. Never even manages to find the dream house again, only the waking one, although he goes mad looking for it

But like. Someone else asks for riches and the Dream king says they can be found the guy's pocket or whatever, but he can't feel anything? There's no weight there, no shape, his pocket seems empty (it isn't when he checks, but as soon as he gets out of the house, yelling about his triumph, it's gone and the house is mundane again)

Alex, who doesn't ask for anything until after the death of his father (and after he murdered Jessamy) asks for peace. For safety. The Dream king says nothing, and Alex lives the rest of his life in the Dreaming version of the house, too scared to step outside in case whatever peace he's found in his personal prison vanishes

Ethel never makes it to the house in the Dreaming . She takes what she wants from the waking, and when she leaves she doesn't look back once

Time passes, and more and more people find their way to Fawney Rig, but as Dream himself said, the great stories always return to their original forms, so no one succeeds because that's how it goes

And then. And then Hob. Hob who finds his way to the house just looking for an answer. Looking for something he can do to make sure his Stranger is there in 2089, because otherwise he might lose his mind with the what-ifs. So he finds the house, and he meets Alex, who hasn't set foot outside the front door in over 80 years except it's a little hard to feel sorry for him when Hob realises why. He meets Paul, who lives solidly in the waking, and hasn't been able to convince Alex that it would be worth it to leave with him. He finds his way down to the basement, finally, and there he finds his Stranger

And at first he thinks? It's a trick? Because isn't that sort of what this place does, it tricks you? But he speaks to Dream, and he gets the rest of the story from him, and the only thing Hob wants to take from this place is Dream. And he's like I want to get you out of here, but I can't because you're trapped in that circle (which for reasons unknown to the author right now but probably has something to do with the nature of dreams and stories can't just be broken like a regular spell circle) and I can't do anything about it and Dream is all you know the story, Hob Gadling. It is a more powerful magic than the binding. Leave, and don't look back, and trust that I am following

(Dream knows the story. He's sure he knows how it ends. But he also knows that it has to be played out, that he has to give Hob this chance - he finds himself, as he follows, weeping silently for his son and Eurydice)

So then there would be the agonising climb and return through the maze of the house where Hob almost looks back a bunch of times, and eventually he makes it to the door and steps out into the bright sun of the waking, and -

End title

#Dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #On today's episode of 'fics I have so vividly in my head but Simply Cannot Put To Paper'#Have some more angst. Still on the house #Haha get it? On the house? Ey?#Never mind #Trying this again because the formatting went wonky when I first posted it sorry folks

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paradiseinaverno · 2 years

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What about reader playing with Morpheus's hair? I just love his bed hairstyle! 💖

playing with morpheus’ hair (gn!reader)

thank you for the ask !

lowercase intended

morpheus isn’t fond of people touching his hair. he might never admit it, but a surprising amount of effort goes into maintaining his bedroom-chic hair.

and though morpheus probably isn’t the biggest fan of intimacy with just anybody, you on the other hand, are a glimmering exception.

in fact, he’s so accustomed to your touch that he barely notices when your hand ever so slightly brushes a fleck of dust out of his hair.

you’re in the library, helping lucienne, sorting through books, considering the place went upside down after morpheus left. and it takes five minutes of inner frustration before you finally flick it out.

everything seems to stop. morpheus freezes for a moment, then silently just. walks away.

later, lucienne explains how particular he is about his hair, for some reason. you’re relatively new to knowing morpheus in comparison, so you just. accept it.

the next few weeks, you make a conscious effort not to touch his hair. if you hug him, you’ll put your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his eternal bed head.

on the other hand, morpheus is literally burning inside. fine, so his pride and joy is his mussed-up hair, but he can’t forget the feeling of how tenderly you touched him.

so the next time he sees you, and you’re lying in bed, he decides it can’t go on. in the purest way, morpheus wants to be touched. it’s been over a century of every type of deprivation in that damned burgess glass.

you’re lying down, and he nuzzles into you almost, like a cat. absentmindedly, and half asleep, you stroke his head ever so slightly. then your sense hits you, and you retract your hand as quickly as you can.

but he grabs your hand halfway, and you turn to look at his eyes that are oh-so-pleading, and your heart warms to its core.

he hesitates. “i like when you…when you do that.”

“you like when i touch your hair?”

almost childlike, almost uncharacteristically, he nods. it’s strange to see morpheus, so generally cold and firm, now so soft.

you’re almost grateful to see this side of him. he’s beautiful, always, and you take him into your arms. he rests his head across your stomach, and you run your fingers through his hair. he makes a mental note to ask you to do this more often

from then on, you rarely stop. in public, at first, you’re mindful not to touch him, or his hair much

after all, the king of dreams and nightmares has a reputation to uphold

but whenever he’s in your arms, whenever you play with his hair, he turns into putty. it doesn’t take long for lucienne to walk into the throne room one day to find the two of you in the same position

oh matthew would love to hear about this, she thinks

you almost convince him to let you braid it.

“it must be long enough!”

“absolutely not.”

you’re not sure if this king of dreams sleeps, but the few moments you have when he’s closing his eyes, you take advantage of by threading daisies between his dark locks.

morpheus, of course, is entirely awake. but he loves you, and he enjoys the personal attention. it’s not always he gets pampered, so he’ll keep his mouth shut. for now.

#the sandman fanfic #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless fic #morpheus imagines #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman x you #dream the endless x reader #dream the endless imagine

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gabessquishytum · 3 months

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Dress-wearing Hob is out running errands. He's something akin to a Red Riding Hood figure for his little town, except you know an adult - he helps little old ladies; sometimes watches the village babies and kiddos; he bakes the best baked goods in the town (people fight over his bread); he takes care of stray animals.

Hob loves his little patch of the world.

Recently, there has been rumors of a wounded wolf (creature) in the forest. It's seems to be eating wayward livestock and the men of the town are looking to chase it off or kill it, especially the Burgesses.

Hob hates to see an animal, especially an injured one, killed, so he goes out in one of his heavy work dresses to see if he can find the animal first. It doesn't take him long before he finds the massive wolf, injured and snappish, and looking like he's not eaten anything in weeks.

Hob isn't sure how he's going to get the enormous animal back to his house and he can't leave him where he is with the hunting part about. So he starts talking to the wolf -- telling him about the hunting party, about how he wants to get him away from here and danger, how he's not sure how he can carry "Mr. Big Bad Wolf" all by himself, how it would be so much more convenient if Mr. GrowllyPants helped out.

As Hob is walking around to see if he can find strong enough wood to create a stretcher or something to help move the wolf, he hears.......

BIG BAD DREAMY WOLF: I would thank you, but my name is not GrowllyPants.

Hob stopping and turning to stare at the pretty (panting) injured man where the injured wolf used to be.....

LITTLE-BIG MODERATELY-SIZED RED RIDING HOOD OR HOB: Well it will certainly be easier to take you home now.

Moderately-sized Red Riding Hob and Mr Growllypants are my new favourite couple, actually.

Of course Dream is also naked (the perils of being a shifter) and Hob gallantly offers his red cloak to cover his modesty - Dream accepts and stares at Hob in his pretty gingham dress, and quietly falls in love.

And now he's a normal size, Hob can carry him back to his cottage. He gets Dream settled in the (single) bed and begins tending to his wounds: Dream was caught in a trap, managed to escape, but ended up badly hurt. In his human form his leg is pretty mangled, and Hob immediately sets about making poultices and potions for healing. He HATES those awful traps, and he's not going to let Dream die or lose his leg.

Unfortunately the Burgesses put 2 and 2 together when they hear about the injured man at Hob’s cottage (who has been there since the wolf creature mysteriously stopped being sighted). The hunters show up at Hob’s door, only to be greeted by Hob wearing his prettiest dress and holding a VERY large axe. After Roderick nearly gets his hand chopped off, the hunters wisely leave.

Inside Dream is wrapped up snug in Hob’s red cloak, wondering how he can possibly make it so that he never has to leave this wonderful place where he's protected and cared for. At least his wound will take a long time to heal.

And little does he know, Hob has a soft spot for pretty, grumpy men. He may be concocting a plan to run the Burgesses out of town forever... so Dream can stay in safety, and they can live happily ever after!

#the sandman #dreamling

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kirkenovak · 2 years

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Speaking of Hob accidentally building Dream a temple in the form of New Inn… a temple to someone like Morpheus is a rare thing indeed. Even more rare is the fact that Hob, de facto a high priest, was touched by Dream’s divinity; he sat with him, spoke with him, dined with him… such things do not go unnoticed. There are high priests and there are High Priests and there are the anointed ones and Hob is firmly in the latter category.

Soon, the New Inn starts to attract some odd folk. Of course, it’s London, you gonna get some odd folks here and there, but these people are odd in a very precise and focused way.

The dreams and nightmares that escaped to the waking world to find Dream use the Inn as their meeting place. At first, they watch Hob with hawkish eyes hoping he’ll bring them to Dream but when they figure out he knows less than them they continue to use this pleace as their base of operation. This is the place with the strongest presence of Morpheus, it inspires and guides them (or so they believe)

Dream’s creations, occultists wanting to harness the energy, people strongly attracted to things that are unusual, an odd supernatural being here and there, genuine worshippers of ancient gods… everyone who wants to touch the divine flock to the New Inn.

Some ask Hob for his blessing. He is a bit taken aback but he figures that they are probably harmless or maybe those LARPer guys, maybe even students trying to prank him so he jokingly “blesses them”. One woman kisses his hands and starts crying when he does it.

Hob isn’t surprised anymore when he finds odd items lying about the place. Candles, flowers, books, handwritten poems and prayers. Offerings.

Writers and poets find that they are strongly inspired if they spend enough time in the Inn. There are at least dozen books that have a dedications to The New Inn and it’s owner.

The problem with such a great amount of thaumaturgic energy is that it has to flow somewhere but Dream is trapped and imprisoned, the energy cannot flow to him, so it looks for a conduit, a storage, a battery if you will and it finds it in the form of one Hob Gadling. Hob’s dreams start to become more lucid, he finds his way to the library, the House of Mystery, the shores of creation, eventually, the crumbling throne room itself. Hob’s starts to channel the energy of the dreamers. He understands that he’s not exactly human anymore but he struggles to understand what he is.

In the basement under the Burgess manor, the glass bowl starts to crack. The cracks are microscopic, invisible to a naked eye, but Morpheus can see them, can sense them. The runes that trap him are fading quicker and quicker. Eventually they have to be redone daily. The cracks become larger. Something is happening.

Corinthian senses the changes too. Whatever it is, whoever it is, he cannot allow them to free Dream. Finding the source is easy, he is a nightmare after all, he is naturally attracted to the energy of the dreaming. He finds the The New Inn and he finds Hob Gadling, a creature that used to be human but is now something else indeed. Something that has to be killed before it realises its own power. Corinthian confronts Hob who is surprised to recognise him; they never met yet he knows him but Corinthian is not here to talk, he’s here to kill, and so he strikes a killing blow… except how do you kill an immortal? You don’t. You can’t.

But this strike by a nightmare with a knife made with the sand of creation severs the connection between Hob and the power, and suddenly all this cumulative energy of the worshippers and dreamers is free. And where does it all go? Straight to the place where Morpheus is kept, because no amount of runes and glass can separate all this power from its rightful master.

The circle is broken, the orb shatters, Dream of the Endless is free.

Corinthian tries to escape but Dream disposes of him before he can step a foot outside the inn. The energy from the New Inn allows Dream to summon the Moirai and ask about his tools (justice for Gregory). He finds his sand, his helmet, his ruby.

When he returns to the New Inn Hob is still there, still waiting for his friend.

“You waited for me”

“I did”

They smile at each other. It’s a beginning of a beautiful friendship or perhaps something more? Endless cannot involve themselves with humans but Hob Gadling isn’t human anymore. He’s something else. Something else indeed.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman

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cuubism · 7 months

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part 3 of hob encountering dream outside their meetings (except there are 4 total parts now, lol)

Something, Hob thinks, somewhere between his third and fourth glass of whiskey, is terribly wrong.

In another life, he thinks, he would have wandered home drunk, morose, aimless, bereft of his strange patron—Dream—and sure he’d screwed it up. If you come, we must be friends. Well, there’s your answer, Hob.

In this life…

Dream gave his word. And… he is so serious, he is so austere, Hob does not think he is the type to break a promise.

I hope you’re alright out there, he thinks as he gets home to his flat, drunk, but not as much as he really wants to be.

Where is he, anyway? Why wouldn’t he show?

Despair over the matter tries to swamp him, but Hob pushes it aside. Dream. He has his name. Maybe he can find him?

He had never tried in the years since their happenstance meeting during the war. Had wanted to, on and off, but had respected his friend’s wishes on the matter. He had a promise to meet again, after all. That was enough for now. They had eternity.

Tomorrow he can go to the library. Maybe he’ll be able to find something in all those books of history and mythology, if his stranger is a god, like to appear there.

It’s a chance.

For days Hob studies, and mulls, and finds very little. His friend’s name is too common a word to easily search, and likewise too obscure to find in any mythology texts. Hob makes little progress, but he thinks on him more and more. Dream is in his mind like a waking nightmare; Hob keeps going back to his little shy smile on their parting outside the cafe.

He wouldn’t just not show up. He wouldn’t.

And then, several weeks into this obsessive spiral, Hob dreams of him.

Hob is sitting across from his friend, the setting vague, dark, he can’t make it out. Dream is cross-legged in a meditative pose, a loose robe draped around him, and he looks… gaunt. Tired. Hob remembers looking like that himself, during the darker periods of his life, but he would never have expected Dream to break his marble composure.

“Hob,” he says, with some surprise. Blinks starry, dark eyes. “You have been thinking on me very intently, indeed.”

“Of course,” Hob says. Wants to reach out to him but senses, somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible. “Where—”

“Time is brief,” interrupts Dream. Hob is not certain he even heard Hob speak; perhaps whatever this is is a one-way transmission, a message. “My power is contained; this is but a spare moment of luck and coincidence. I owe you much for breaking my vow to you—”

You don’t, Hob thinks, you don’t—

“—But instead I must make a request. As… friends.” He speaks the word as something still unfamiliar and rare. “Find Alex Burgess. Find me. Anything you desire, if it is in my power, in return.”

What an absolutely bizarre way of asking for help. Then again, it is his old stranger speaking. Hob should expect no less.

What kind of mess has he gotten himself into that kept him away from their meeting? What kind of mess could such a being get into?

“I will,” Hob swears. “I will. I won’t leave you alone.”

His friend’s gaze bores into his, glittering like the night sky.

“Hob,” he says, voice resonant and echoing, “be cautious.”

Hob wakes, tacky with sweat, shivers running up his spine. Dream, he thinks, scrubbing a hand through the mess of his hair. Dreams. Fuck. Was it real? It must have been. Dreams.

In the manner of dreams, much of the detail is hazing out, leaving only the strange echo of his friend’s voice, his starry eyes, a name to find, and a warning:

Be cautious.

Yeah, fuck that.

Dream never asks for help, at least not from Hob, though Hob privately doubts he asks for it from anyone. He hardly even shares mundane details of his life. Whatever scrape he’s gotten into now, it must be monumentally terrible to push him to do so.

Hob won’t leave him there.

Alex Burgess, his friend had said. That’s not much, but it’s a start.

Hob had found nothing using Dream’s name, but once he has Alex Burgess’s, it’s shockingly easy. He puts the pieces together in less than a week, and finds himself stewing in anger as a result. How had nobody done anything? Granted, nobody knew who his friend was, but as far as he’s managed to gather, plenty of people had seen him over the years. Nobody had stepped up?

Maybe, deep down, Hob is truly just angry with himself. He should have done something. Somehow, someway. For fuck’s sake, Hob had seen his stranger in 1915, less than a year—if the rumors are to be believed—before he disappeared.

Shouldn’t he have known? Somehow? Some time before their scheduled meeting?

Nothing for it now. Nothing for it but to get him back.

For lack of very much ability to make a plan without blueprints or inside knowledge, Hob ends up throwing caution to the wind and simply breaking into the manor. Fuck those people. Hob has killed men before and he will again, and he doesn’t expect to feel sorry about it.

These are not innocent men, after all. And neither is Hob.

But he does heed Dream’s warning to some extent, only out of concern for Dream himself. Hob cannot afford to get knocked out or killed—temporary though it may be—when he has someone to rescue.

To that effect, he leashes his fury long enough to break into the Burgess manor via a side door, rather than simply breaking down the front door as he’d really like to; he holds his anger by the collar long enough to catch a passing guard around the throat and demand, in a terse whisper, where the door to the basement is, and then knock the guard out and shove him into a coat closet; he tempers his rage long enough to crack open the basement door with a key stolen from the guard’s belt, to creep down the stone steps, to step out into the cavernous room.

And then—

—it’s impossible for Hob to hold back his anger then.

But his instincts don’t let him slow long enough to taste it. Hob has not been a soldier for a long time, but the instincts—the instincts never disappear.

He knocks out one guard with the butt of his gun before the man can even grab his own weapon, then he levels it at the other, whose hands vacillate between surrender and fight.

“I would think very hard about what you’re about to do,” Hob growls, and clicks back the hammer on his revolver.

Apparently, whatever unbridled fury the guard sees in Hob’s eyes is more frightening than the punishment his employer will dish out. He raises his hands in surrender, dropping his gun.

Hob stalks over to him and, though the man raises a hand and shouts, “Wait!”, knocks him out cold as well.

He grits his teeth, forcibly loosening his grip on the gun, and then, only then, does he let himself turn properly to Dream.

And his heart fucking… breaks.

Hob’s old stranger has always been a regal person. No matter the era, no matter how grimy the White Horse was when they met, no matter on what street Hob ran into him—he has always carried himself like royalty.

He still does, now, but by God is Burgess trying to break him of it.

Dream sits cross-legged in the same meditative pose as in Hob’s dream, but this time he is unclothed. Hob doubts that he subscribes to the same strict notions of modesty as human society, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still a violation.

Worse still is the cage. Small, tight, exposed on all sides—his friend is such a private person, Hob hadn’t even gotten a name out of him for five hundred years. This is— this is—

It makes him so incredibly angry.

Dream stares at him with wide eyes. He looks from Hob to the downed guards and back, his muscles tense, spine still rigid. He looks… malnourished, and Hob wonders if it’s truly due to lack of food, or more to lack of freedom.

“Hob Gadling,” he finally murmurs, voice muffled through the glass. “You received my message. I was not certain I’d managed enough power to get it through. I had but a short dream in which to try.”

“Yes.” Hob strides across the room to him quickly, steps and voice echoing strangely in the crypt-like, musty cellar. “I heard you.”

“And you came.”

Hob huffs, crouching down by the glass cage, examining it for rivets or seals or anything that could be cracked open. “No need to sound so surprised.”

“You are angry,” says Dream, watching him intently, delicate hands balanced on delicate knees.

“Yeah, not at you, though.” Hob groans in frustration. “Any way to break this thing open other than shooting at it?”

“Break the circle.” He points to the ring of symbols on the floor. “And I will be able to help you.”

Hob drags the sole of his shoe viciously through the paint. It’s so gratifying to watch it scrape off. Dream shudders, eyes falling shut, and then goes taut, each muscle in relief. Strength comes back to him, power shimmers over his skin. Hob lays a hand on the glass and finds it humming at higher and higher frequency, like the air inside is vibrating, suffused with power it can’t contain.

He jumps back just in time.

The glass shatters into a thousand pieces with a high ringing sound and a flash of bright light. Hob covers his eyes.

When he opens them again, Dream is delicately climbing out of the metal frame of the sphere, his power returned, each step measured and controlled. He looks more otherworldly than Hob’s ever seen him, hair standing on end, his gaze sharp and predatory. But his eyes soften when they land on Hob.

Hob rushes over to offer his arm, and Dream grips it for balance as he picks his way through the glass. Once he’s on safer ground, Hob offers him his coat, and Dream wraps it around his bare shoulders, eyes sparkling with a tiny smile like he finds Hob’s attempts at chivalry amusing.

“Are you okay?” Hob asks, then shakes his head. “Stupid question. What do you need, my friend?”

“I am free,” says Dream. Under his usual stoicism there is a hint of awe. “You have done more than enough, Hob. I thank you.”

“At least let me help you get out of here,” Hob says. He’s still worried that Dream might be hurt, or weakened from his imprisonment, even if he’s standing on his own feet now. “Can get you something to eat, or…?”

Dream looks into the distance, as if seeing, or hearing something Hob can’t. “I’m afraid I have much to attend to. My realm calls me. I have been away a long time.”

Because he’s been imprisoned for a long time. Jesus Christ.

Hob doubts he’ll be able to convince Dream to stay, or rest or anything else. His friend is stubborn, and too proud for such things, he thinks. “Still. If you need help with anything…”

“I require my tools,” Dream says, and Hob straightens up. “But I would not task you with such a thing. They are no longer in this manor and I fear there may be danger involved in retrieving them.”

Hey, Hob thinks, with some indignation. I can handle some danger, thanks very much.

“But first, I have other business to attend to,” Dream continues. His eyes flick upward at the sleeping manor inhabitants on the floors above. “You will face no resistance in leaving.” He turns his gaze briefly to Hob, eyes softening in gratitude. “Fare well, Hob. I shall not forget this.”

Then he turns to go, darkness swirling around him.

“Wait!” Hob grabs his arm. Dream looks down at his hand, but doesn’t pull away. “Will you come back? I— I want to make sure you’re alright.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a half smile. “I will be alright once I have returned to my realm, and regathered my tools. But. Very well. I will come to see you, once I have finished that business. Thank you, Hob.”

And then he’s gone from under Hob’s hand, gone into the night, and Hob sighs, alone in the quiet basement. But really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #fishbowl rescue #my writing

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