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thenightwolf51 · 9 months

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So i originally had this idea when i reblogged this post by @saphushia but i wanna just seperate it out as its own little prompt.

A quick context is that Danny seems to be roaming around Gotham like some homeless cryptid, kinda Bus to Nowhere style but with more vigilante interaction and casual offerings of first aid. And the batkids are keeping their adoption bait First Aid Cryptid(tm) secret from Batman.

One set of tags in the reblogs from @little-pondhead caught my attention

I came up with both funny answers and an angsty answer for that "#why?" but here's the angsty one (though i promice i actually envision it to be more hurt/comfort with a lot of family fluff)

Actual Prompt⬇️⬇️

Something happens, maybe a reveal gone wrong, maybe he got capture by the GIW, maybe he lost Jazz and his parents somehow.

Whatever it is, it leaves Danny with a need to escaped to a new dimension which just so happens to end up being the DCU. He winds up in Gotham and is just trying to start over, easier said than done but at there's plenty of heros around so he doesn't need to go ghost and he can still patch up the local vigilantes to feed his obsession. He's just not up to being Phantom yet and he's still recovering from whatever happened in Amity, whether it be mentally or physically.

Plus these vigilantes are kinda fun to mess with. Danny can practically see the gears turning as they try to put together and make sense of his little "lore drops", that Red Robin almost reminds him of Wes in a way.

Its not like he really needs to hide anyways. There's no GIW here, no Anti-Ecto Acts, if it really comes down to it he could probably pass as meta and fall under those protection laws. Judging by Signal, Danny's pretty sure Batman's bluffing on the whole "hating metas" thing anyways.

It takes awhile before Danny actually does meet the big bat himself and the reaction he gets is nothing anyone was expecting.

You see theres one little detail danny couldn't have been warned about, and its that there just so happens to be a version of Jazz here.

Except this Jazz lost her Danny when they were in high school, as in full on dead and gone Danny, no halfas here, the portal simply did not work and it was just regular ole lethal electrocution that hit her little brother.

What if she grew up with a young Bruce somehow, whether it be because CPS took her from the Fentons after her Danny's death or Amity Park simply doesn't exist in the DCU making Gotham the city with the thinnest veil and thus where the Fenton's chose to settle down.

This Jazz is an adult in her 40s but was once a kid smart enough to go to Gotham Academy on scholarship (or maybe the Fenton's had enough money from patents?). A kid who took one look at young Bruce's grumpy little face and decided he needed a honest friend, one that wasn't after status or money.

This Jazz grew up being a secondary voice of reason for Bruce, ganging up with Alfred in their own crusade to enforce healthy habits on him in between their weekly tea sessions.

This Jazz lost her brother and could not only understand Bruce's resoning on a minor level but encouraged his planned "journey of self discovery and healing". (Though the bat costume he made when he came back was unexpected and she gave him a look to rival Alfred for it)

This Jazz grew up to be a social worker because if anyone had cared enough to take her away from the Fenton's sooner then her brother might've still been alive

This Jazz being the one Bruce calls when he first gets Dick because holy shit he has no idea what hes doing and "Jazz, i just became a father, help!"

This Jazz being a sort of aunt to all the Batkids and is a major influence that has led to their dynamics being similar to Wayne Family Adventures

Bruce goes pale and later calls Jazz after he finally gets a glimps/meets the so called "First Aid Cryptid" his kids have been obsessed with. Because this kid that he's looking at with the barely visible lichtenberg scars... that's a face he hasn't seen in little over 20 years, that's his old friend's long dead baby brother.

Bruce sees danny and his mind rapidly jumps to all sorts of possibilities. Is this a clone? Is this a trap? Are the Lazarus pits involved somehow? Time travel? He does consider a ghost but this kid is too solid and they're nowhere near the old dilapidated Fenton Works building

Eventually, down the line when they get the full story of Danny being from an alternate dimension, Jazz might try to adopt him. Which has potential to be unhealthy but i fully believe Jazz would be aware enough not to project her decades old grief on this Danny, who is so similar but so different to her brother.

(Because I think a Gotham raised Danny would've been similar to a young Jason in street smarts so this Amity raised Danny is noticeably different)

Danny on the other hand... not sure if i could say the same, especially if he just lost his Jazz before winding up in the DCU. But again, this is an adult Jazz in her late 40s with professional experience dealing with traumatized kids, and she'll do her best to help him through it

Im imagining Jazz and Bruce to have a more platonic friendship, maybe even see each other as family, but you could go with Parent Syndrome if you want

(And because i love to see other peoples ideas and opinions, @omnicrafts @ailithnight @atiyasnake @hdgnj @nelkcats @nerdpoe @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @dcxdpdabbles. Sorry i tag you guys so much but i like your writing, im eager to offer ideas, and your posts have been major sources of joy while ive been hyperfixating on DPxDC)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny fenton #batman #jazz fenton #bruce and jazz know each other #bruce and jazz are childhood friends #at least in another dimension #jason reminded jazz of her danny #she did her best to help with the bat kids #writing prompt #fic prompt #found family #is it found family if one person is your biological sibling from another dimension?

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buckybarnesss · 8 months

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the fact that nobody called Derek out on his sudden "no, no, we shouldn't immediately murder" attitude in season 3B is so funny

Derek killed Peter, Jackson, and wanted to kill Lydia, but when it's Stiles? Nope, suddenly non-violence is the only answer.

it's one of the things i love about 3B so, so, so much.

i think the only people who could reasonably call derek on it would be scott and peter. scott may have noticed but he wouldn't have on this. not when he was desperate. peter sort of did when derek became focused on the chessboard but instead he was kind of helpful about it. perhaps taking a little pity on his nephew.

riddled is such a great episode for various reasons. scott is terrified of what's happening to stiles. the look on his face when isaac suggests after seeing stiles room that it's insanity all but screams scott is thinking about claudia just like the sheriff is. scott may not have known the name of the disease claudia had but he knew enough. it's the first time scott sees the bite as a gift when he all but offers it to stiles. a last resort because they both know stiles really doesn't want it but it's an option and one claudia never had.

but what gets me is scott immediately calls derek. he's scared about stiles's wellbeing. scott hates involving derek in things and usually only contacts him as a last resort but not here.

scott may willfully put his fingers in his ears and close his eyes to the stiles and derek dynamic but we spent time on him realizing that stiles and derek made friends without him in 3A.

so he calls derek knowing derek will help.

derek is the most transparent we ever see him in 3B. derek enjoys having a certain amount of mystery about him with scott and company. he likes his local cryptid status with them. keeps them on their toes.

like yeah derek mellowed somewhat in season 3 but when stiles is in danger all his known methods and strategies go out the window.

he's teaching chemosignals to scott. he's revealing he knows stiles by scent well enough to be able to tell that stiles was having a fight with himself. he's purposefully seeking out argent to gauge how much of a threat he is to stiles.

he investigates what happened on the night with barrow and even takes kira along for the investigation. same guy who saw lydia was immune to a werewolf bite and went "yep absolutely the kanima gotta kill her" instead of looking for other reasons.

this man doesn't even investigate himself when he's losing his powers the next season. derek baby what you doing?

the nogitsune so called him out this by using his loft as essentially a safe place to hide from the oni. it purposefully used derek as protection right beside the sheriff because neither of them could kill stiles and it knew that.

stiles spent 2.5 seasons gaining derek's trust. stiles is the one who learns about derek's past and checks on his wellbeing. stiles is the one who makes an effort to understand him. the only two people we ever see offer derek comfort are stiles and cora.

stiles earned derek's trust so much by this point not only would derek do just about anything to protect stiles but stiles became his anchor.

the derek hale committee for the protection and safety of stiles stilinski founded 2011.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #sterek

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spellboundcities · 6 months

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We crave more Marble Hornets

Could I perhaps request a scrap of Alex and Brian?

Love how you draw them

When you're not busy of course! ^^

they r doing homework and watching movies together......

#I always go for precanon brilex cause their dynamic is everything to me #'oh i don't have a preference for mh pairs' says the man who has made three (3) brilex playlists #local cryptid answers #guest star anon #local cryptid draws #marble hornets #marble hornets fanart #brian thomas #mh brian #alex kralie #mh alex #brilex #mh brilex #these are pretty loose and messy its been a minute since i've drawn #opaline yellowjackets

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incorrectbatfam · 26 days

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Im writing a road trip AU and I need some advice on what each of the batfam's favorite music genres are. And some prompts if you wouldn't mind!!

I have a number of character playlists on my Spotify which you can check out as a starting reference, or you can search up the music tag on my blog as I've answered a number of music-related questions

For some prompts:

If you want fluff and humor...

Tacky roadside attractions

Trying strange local delicacies (looking at you Rocky Mountain oysters)

Hotel room shenanigans

Taking turns driving

Joint trips with other superhero families

Unique family vacation traditions

Accidentally ending up at the border

If you want emotional hurt/comfort...

Late-night campfire talks

Leaving someone behind at a stop

Someone breaking off from the party

Vacation fatigue

Someone/something getting lost

Bringing work on the trip

If you want mystery and heroics...

Cryptid towns like Point Pleasant or Roswell

Seedy motel criminals

Haunted places

Team-ups with other local heroes

Getting stranded in the middle of nowhere

Facing the North American wilderness

Encountering lesser-known urban legends

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swampstew · 2 months

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Really Really

Breaking news: local cryptid @quinloki was found guilty of leaving tasty treats in my ask box. Feeding the thot after midnight. I let the whoremone monster out and it was feeling some type of way♥

Man worth 3 billion berri is still a virgin, so I threw him in the blender. Warnings: spicy; post-time skip Eustass Kid x AFAB Reader; it doesn't go all the way in :) WC: 1.2K

inspired by this gif

Impatient.

Not a word typically used to describe yourself but after six long months aboard the Victoria Punk, the fierce Captain Kid had once again overlooked your playful flirting as he stormed to his workshop; a hint of red on the tips of his ears were the only sign he’d heard what you said.

You weren’t sure what his deal was – you’d never seen him hook up, not with anyone on the crew and not with anyone on islands the crew landed at. Sure he’d go into strip clubs or make out with random people at the bar from time to time but not once had you seen him spend the night off ship. Or seen a one-night stand stumble from his cabin.

It was puzzling.

A devilishly handsome, well-toned man like him had women and men swooning over him, flirting and spoiling him with compliments, drinks, and food to gain his favor. Kid didn’t always accept the tokens and he almost never accepted them from you. Food and drinks yes but flirting? Almost like it went over his spiked hair; a blush, smirk or scowl the only response he gave you.

It made you…desperate.

Was he really that disinterested or was there something else?

Someone else?

So you did what any rational person could do – you got Killer drunk and tried to weasel out information. But the son of a bitch was like a sealed vault, refused to give up anything about his best friend. And he teased you for it.

“D-you like him or something?” the blonde finally asked.

“I—” you stuttered, “I’m just wondering why! Does he not like sex or?”

Killer didn’t answer right away, swirling his cup before taking a contemplative sip from his straw. “It’s not that, so much as…” he took another sip, “He prioritizes his ambitions and dreams. That’s all.”

“What does that have to do with fucking?”

“Absolutely nothing. He just hasn’t.”

“…Hasn’t? As in had sex?”

Killer shrugged, neither confirming nor denying. That stunned you into silence.

“Really? A guy like him??”

“If you’re so interested in finding out – you should ask him yourself.”

“I’ve tried! I flirt with him, wear revealing clothes, he usually ignores me!”

Killer began coughing, putting his drink aside as he shuddered between suppressing laughter and trying to breathe.

“F-ff-ff- ahh no he doesn’t. He just pretends to.”

“WHAT?!”

“He’s not an idiot, he knows what you’re doing. But he won’t do anything about it since you’re his responsibility; unless you were to, well, be aggressively transparent.” With that, Killer left you alone in the galley.

Transparency.

And Kid’s known the whole damn time and not even acknowledged it. That was frustrating. So much so you decided to try again the next day and be as blunt as possible.

You knew his schedule by heart, you skipped breakfast to hide in his workshop. Wearing a short skirt and oversized sweater, you took a pair of scissors and got creative. Carefully snipping away at the fabric, you cut away at your outfit to expose your bra and panties, not quite getting naked, enough to be as blunt as possible about your intentions.

The sound of thudding boots growing closer suddenly made you nervous but you swallowed your anxiety and snipped the strap of your bra before tossing the scissors and turned away from the door.

“The hell are you doing in here? Why weren’t you at breakfast?" stunned to find you in his sanctuary, a place he expressly forbade anyone from.

You turned your head to the side with a pout on your face, “Didn’t want to eat. I want something else.”

Slamming the door shut, Kid removed his coat and threw it on the table before roughly grabbing your shoulder to face him. His face turned bright red as his golden eyes traveled up and down your body. Studying the way the slit up your skirt gave him a view of your panties, the way your breast threatened to spill over the edge of the cup of the destroyed bra.

You heard his breath sharply release from his lips, “What the…the fuck happened to you?”

You narrowed your eyes, “You did. This is what you’ve driven me to.”

He backed away from you with shock and surprise on his face, “I did what?!”

“I want to fuck you,” you walked towards him, hips, thighs, and breasts jiggling with each step, “I’ve tried flirting with you, dropped hints, given you a share of my loot, and literally hand fed you and you’ve NEVER reciprocated in any manner. So, is it me? Do you find me atrocious? Unfuckable?” your voice became gravelly from the internalized resentment and embarrassment you felt from the efforts you’d put in all this time. “Please, tell me. It’s killing me. If you don’t want me, I’ll stop. But just say something. Am I making a fool of myself for wanting you?”

Kid’s back hit the door, eyes wide as he listened to your rant, “I-wha-no! It’s not you, it’s…”

You stopped a few feet from him, so desperate to hear his answer. You could see the bulge outline in his pants.

“FUCK!” he snarled, smacking his own face to cover his flushed expression, fingers digging into his skin until deep red crescents marked him. “I’ve never had sex!” he finally confessed.

“Really?” you asked, not at all expecting that response. “But…why not? You’re hot as fuck!”

“I JUST HAVEN’T OKAY?!” he lashed out, making you step back from him, a little intimidated by his embarrassed rage. “I’ve got more important shit to do than fuck around and spawn a bunch of bastards,” he spat through grit teeth.

“…Condoms exist…”

“I KNOW THAT!”

Your hip clipped the table’s edge and you stumbled backwards. Before you fell, Kid grabbed your arm and pulled you up, in doing so you fell right into his bare chest. You could feel the goosebumps ripple across both your bodies from the touch but he didn’t move away.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, a bit ashamed from the confrontation, “I just needed to know if you found me attractive, at all. I’ll leave you alone.”

Still holding on to you he barked out, “Have you fucking seen yourself? Who wouldn’t be into you?!”

“Well, you? Considering you keep blowing me off,” you mumbled.

That made him laugh, “REALLY? Shit and here I thought I was being a decent Captain by not sleeping with my subordinates.”

“Really? You parroted in shock, that was surprisingly mature and unexpected. “But I’ve never seen you fuck around with anyone so I just thought—”

“Does this seem like I’m not interested?” he huffed, using his metal arm to grab your waist and pull you into him. Felt his erection against your lower belly. “Fuck me for trynna do the right thing.”

He made you walk backwards, still pressing his body into yours, “I get hard every day just looking at you. When you say cheeky shit, I have to come here and jerk off so I can fucking think clearly. You’re my biggest distraction but—” his hand ghosted up your arm to caress your cheek with surprising gentleness, “—I’ve never not been attracted to you.”

“Oh,” you hummed, still as stone to preserve the moment.

With a click of his tongue, Kid grabbed your chin and planted a wet kiss on you.

Your eyes were crossed from the feeling, lost in a haze as you felt him swing your body around until you were pushed back on top of his coat. The withdrawal of his touch brought you to reality, mouth gaping as he stood in front of you but did not initiate further contact.

“Show me what you like,” he rasped out. “Touch yourself. Teach me what to do.”

#eustass kid #what would you teach him first?#dont feed the thot after midnight #she turns into a whoremone monster #swampstew bedtime stories #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x you #eustasscaptainkid #quinloki #sorry for being a tease though #my brain melted #in a good way

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cuubism · 10 months

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I have been absolutely loving Bookstore Cryptid Dream! Offline life got rough for a bit there, but this little universe never failed to make my heart happy. Thank you - and I hope you're planning on more!

i've indeed had one in my drafts so i finished it up for you :)

Hob has been waiting with equal parts anticipation and trepidation to find out exactly what ideas Dream will pull from his romance novels. He still hasn't figured out why he picked romance novels as his manuals. Maybe he needs his sex positions to have narratives. Maybe he's into roleplay. God.

But Hob doesn't get to find out.

He's been busy for a few days--new term at the local uni starting up means the cafe's suddenly gotten busier--and while Dream's popped in and out a few times, they haven't had the chance to spend much time together. It's probably good, Hob tries to convince himself. Puts the brakes on things, just a little.

But when he finally gets a break, hands the reins over to his staff for an evening, he heads to The Library. Even if Dream is busy with his own tasks, Hob's content to just sit in his space. Listen to his stories. It's not something the busy cafe environment usually allows, but The Library is like an alternate world, cool, quiet, and timeless.

Hob strides up the steps and opens The Library door.

And there's nothing inside.

It takes several moments for his tired brain to comprehend what he's looking at, and several more for him to decide that no, he's not dreaming. He steps through the doorway into a dim, empty room, old wood-paneled walls and dust gathering in the corners, and no infinite winding paths of shelves like in Dream's bookshop. Just a shell.

Hob presses his palm to the wall. It's cool, and smooth, and very much real. Not some mad hallucination of his, this empty room.

Blinking hard, Hob steps back outside, closes the door again, as if that might change things. Opens it again. Same room. Does it again. Same room. He calls out into the empty bowels of the once-Library: "Dream!"

No answer, of course.

Hob had known that The Library had a sort of magic to it. But just vanishing into thin air...

And Dream wouldn't...

...would he?

Hob spins in place on the stoop, looking out on the darkened street which suddenly feels so much more eerie. He steps down to the road in a daze, looking around as if The Library might suddenly appear in another doorway. Resists the urge to yell Dream's name into the darkness.

And then, well, fuck it. "Dream!" he calls. All that echoes back to him is his own voice.

Hob sits down on the stoop, defeated. If he hadn't seen Dream just yesterday, kissed him on his way out of the cafe not twenty-four hours ago, he really might have started to think he'd hallucinated all of this. Invented someone he'd wanted to know.

But he didn't invent Dream, he swears he didn't--so then where is he?

Hob doesn't sleep much that night. He doesn't do much of anything else, either--it's not like Dream left a note to track him down, or any evidence of his existence. It's not like Hob can put up missing person posters: have you seen this bookshop? Or force it to reappear.

He's having a very sleep-deprived, very over-caffeinated morning shift in the cafe, contemplating how long one's not-quite-human not-quite-boyfriend needs to be not-quite-missing before it's reasonable to start finding out which parts of London harbor demons and sorcerers--when a man he's never seen before stops at the counter, hands folded before him, and says, "Excuse me, but do you know if there's a bookshop around here?"

Hob has never seen anyone else ever go into The Library or even acknowledge its existence, and Hob's anxiety is so high that he almost leaps over the counter to grab this man by the collar and demand, what do you know about Dream?! Fortunately he belays that impulse. This stranger really does look almost laughably harmless and definitely not like a demon or sorcerer, not that Hob's seen one--and getting arrested for assault is not going to help anything.

"I tried the door," continues the stranger, as Hob just keeps staring at him, conflicted, "only, well. It seems to have vanished."

Well, at least Hob's not hallucinating. Not that a disappearing bookstore is helpful to his sanity.

After what was surely a conspicuously long silence, though his visitor just waits patiently, Hob says, "Have... you been there before?" He feels weirdly defensive of The Library, even if it's currently AWOL. He doesn't know if he wants random people to be able to find Dream.

Or maybe that's just jealousy.

"Oh, no, this is my first time coming this way," says the man, apologetically. "I'm just looking for a certain book."

Damn odd timing for it.

Hob comes out from behind the counter and waves him over to a table. He should probably get some tea. Proper hospitality and all. But he's too worked up and way too sleep-deprived.

His guest sits down primly at the table as Hob slouches against the back of his own seat. "Sorry," Hob finally says, "if I'm--" he waves a vague hand. "Dream's had trouble before, that's all." He holds out his hand to his guest. "Hob."

The man shakes his hand. "Hm. A pleasure. I am Aziraphale. To any associate of--" he tastes the name, "Dream's, that is."

It's interesting that The Library's reputation carries further than knowledge of Dream himself, despite how deeply Dream seems to be tied to the shop.

"Is it meant to be there, then?" asks Aziraphale hopefully. "I wouldn't blame him for moving around to protect the collection; I certainly wouldn't want all and sundry picking through the shelves!" He shudders. "Though I was hoping to find that book."

Hob doesn't bother asking what book. Whatever it is, Dream will certainly have it. What's more important is--

"'Moving around?' Do you know how?" And then, realizing if he wants a chance at info he's going to need to offer some of his own, adds, "You just missed him, it's only today that The Library's been... gone."

"Oh, dear," says Aziraphale, now looking troubled.

"Not sure what pointed you towards this place, but if you've heard anything..." Hob continues, "Dream is my--" what is Dream, anyway? They haven't established it, "...friend."

Looking contemplative, Aziraphale says, "Well it is odd timing, now that you mention it, because--"

That's when the door to The Library flies open.

A lanky man comes hurtling down the steps, limbs akimbo, yelling something over his shoulder that Hob can't hear from within the cafe. "Oh dear," says Aziraphale again, with a mix of concern and consternation. "Crowley!"

Dream storms out of the doorway next, expression thunderous, his hair sticking up in all directions like he'd been struck by lightning. That has Hob lurching to his feet, which Aziraphale does as well, and they both rush outside, just in time to hear--

"Look, it's just one silly book, okay?" The unfamiliar man--Crowley, presumably--says, stopping in the middle of the road and turning towards Dream. "Don't overreact."

Dream is, in fact, clutching a singular heavy book, and looks like he's just about to hurl it, except that Dream would never do something so undignified as that, Hob thinks.

Dream hurls the book at Crowley.

Or not.

Crowley catches it against his chest, stumbling back with the weight. "I do not accept," spits Dream, each word the strike of a nail, "surreptitious rummaging in my library."

"Oh come on," says Crowley, tossing the book to Aziraphale, who's just caught up to him and who catches it with a surprised little umph! sound. Crowley makes a shooing sort of go on, run gesture to Aziraphale, which he doesn't heed. "It's not like I was going to burn the place down. You're just prejudiced against demons."

"I am prejudiced against thieves," hisses Dream. Hob finally reaches his side before he can throw another book or something, lays a hand on Dream's arm. Though all he's really thinking is, demons?!

"Crowley," Aziraphale admonishes. "Please tell me you did not." He finally looks at the cover of the book, and gasps. "Crowley."

Crowley shrugs. "You wanted it, he had it."

Hob frowns, confused. "You don't need to steal from The Library. It's not a museum. Just go in and buy it." Not that Hob's ever actually paid for any of Dream's books.

Both Crowley and Aziraphale turn to him. "One could not simply give away such an artifact," says Aziraphale, caressing the book's leatherbound cover.

"Least not for a steep price," says Crowley, which evidently justifies his trying to swipe it. "I won't be beholden to the likes of you." He points at Dream.

Dream looks affronted. "Now who is prejudiced?"

"Let's back up," Hob says, unsure how he became the voice of reason here. He still has a hand wrapped around Dream's arm, it's grounding after the way Dream had just vanished on him. "What happened? Dream-- I tried to come over and you were just gone." The empty room past The Library doorway is going to continue to be nightmare fuel.

Dream makes an apologetic little sound. "I apologize. I closed all access to The Library for its protection. As it turned out, my assessment of the threat was overstated." He glares at Crowley and adds, darkly, "I thought you were from the school board. Breaking in in the dead of night like so."

Hob momentarily gets stuck on the fact that Dream considers the local school board a greater threat than an actual demon from hell.

"Which," Dream continues, "was utterly unnecessary. You could have simply come to The Library as a visitor and sought out what you were looking for. It would have been granted."

"Oh, so I was just supposed to know you actually sell your books?"

"The books will find their rightful recipients," Dream says stiffly.

"Crowley, you have been very rude," says Aziraphale, though he hasn't given up the book, "I think you should apologize."

"Eh," says Crowley, waving this off. Hob supposes it wouldn't really be given to demons to apologize for things. "You apologize if you really want to."

Aziraphale turns to Dream with a sigh. "I am sorry for my companion's behavior. And... grateful for the book."

Dream nods solemnly at him. It seems his ire does not extend to Aziraphale.

Crowley leans back on his heels, closer to Aziraphale. "Mayyybee we should go now."

Aziraphale nods. "Quite." He tips his head at Dream, and then at Hob. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hob."

Then he turns and hurries away, Crowley slinking along beside him. As they leave, Hob hears Aziraphale admonish, "Do you know how few booksellers there are with truly rare volumes? We cannot afford to make such enemies."

"Yeah, you're welcome, angel."

"...Thank you."

Hob shakes his head in bemusement and turns back to Dream. He takes both of Dream's arms in his hands now, holding onto him, looking him over. Unable to fully vanish the lingering panic of The Library just being gone. "Are you alright? I was... worried. When you disappeared."

"I am annoyed," Dream huffs, like it's a greater point of suffering than any actual injury. Then he leans in close to Hob, pressing a hand to his chest. "I apologize. I did not intend to cause you distress. I had to shut the doors rather quickly, but I hoped to resolve the issue before you had cause to visit The Library."

"It's alright, love. I'm just glad you're okay." He kisses Dream, tentative for how new this all still is. Tastes lightning on his lips. Dream hums with pleasure.

When they pull apart, Hob wraps an arm around Dream's back, starts leading him back towards the cafe, or perhaps just to Hob's flat above. Tea solves everything. "So. The school board, eh?"

Dream sighs with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "They are enthusiastic about banning books."

Hob pulls him against his side, kisses his temple. "Dream against the world."

Dream grumbles, but leans his head on Hob's shoulder, and despite the many strange things of today Hob is going to have to internalize, he feels all soft inside at the gesture.

"Don't worry," he says, "next time your many enemies come calling, just yell and I'll create a diversion."

"And be waiting with tea after I've dealt with them?"

"Got it in one."

As they reach the door to the cafe, Dream turns his head to kiss Hob's shoulder. "You are good to me, Hob Gadling."

And Hob will keep being so. Even when the next strange thing happens.

#hob: yep. same shit as always #idk in what type school boards do or don't exist in the uk maybe that's just an american thing #also realized i never named Hob's cafe lol. i guess now it's just called The Cafe. like The Library #fitting for a man who named his tavern The New Inn #bookstore cryptid dream #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #ask #lunaris1013 #good omens #crowley #aziraphale

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