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landwriter · 5 days

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Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

#asks #the sandman #dead boy detectives #fic #crossover? fusion? i guess? who is to say! not me!#dreamling #perhaps some notes of chedwin #(a fabulous ship name btw. i may not get cob but i WILL get chedwin)#author wrote this while sick as dog so please excuse errors :')#might put on ao3 later if i have a chance to clean it up and expand on it a little!#my writing #me yesterday: 'i really don't see the appeal of blending both stories beyond doing it for the sake of it'#me today: 'no you don't understand they NEED each other here is my chart of the interpersonal dynamics and a list of all the ways hob can h #accidentally writing the new inn reunion scene i'd always dreamed of oops

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dwter · 2 years

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hey everyone, so ive had a lot of time at this point to ruminate and have had conversation after conversation about everything going on and i truly and genuinely mean this when i say i think so much of my thinking and immediate reactions were entirely based in fear, anxiety and grief that i didn't give myself the ability to view the situation as it is.

ill say from the beginning ive always chosen to view this in a worst case scenario perspective. not just for myself, but also i think dismissing the victim ESPECIALLY those using anything to dismiss her literally instantly is really icky and so ive always looked at this with the perspective of everything (more or less) being true. now with that in mind--i dont think this entire thing was nearly as black and white as i initially thought it was. im saying it straight to save everyone the time to try and figure out my perspective, but after talking with people and thinking about real life, how people irl would view this and DO view it and other instances of this exact scenario happening both online and in real life: this is truly just not the horrible morally bankrupt incident i thought it was.

i thought a lot about how i wanted to go about explaining my perspective or if i even wanted to bc i really didnt want this to he seen as "dream defense" or align myself with the people who have had that stance since the absolute beginning bc they are srsly insane, but this is more for myself and for anyone who felt like they didnt have a perspective they resonated with throughout all of this. this is one of the first instances where i felt a genuine dissonance between my thoughts and feelings and my friends in the community whose thoughts i have always always valued above anything else, often even my own, especially when i was struggling with feeling conflicted out of fear and grief. i always clung to the people whose opinions i trusted (and still do trust dont get me wrong) because it felt easier than having to sort my guilty and scared conscience into rationality that could possibly oppose the people ive always looked to for guidance in discourse. just that fear on being on the wrong side of history and such. but like i said, this long winded and horribly overserious essay is for me more than anyone else--if not for people who have struggled with the exact same shitty time.

ill say the absolute first thing: it was not grooming. i held this opinion literally the entire time and people calling it grooming are not only using the term wrong but genuinely causing harm to such a serious topic. we are talking about two adults in a relationship with an age difference of four years like holy shit. when the first girl dropped her story, almost everyone came to the conclusion that it just wasnt that serious because he thought she was 18. with the second girl, she was one month from 18 and the dms from before turning such were genuinely the driest conversations in the world that he never initiated or made any notion of pursuing. this isnt to say you cant be icked out--the point of me talking about this isnt to make you suddenly change your views on anything but to try and claim that it was grooming or a crime took place is just wrong and dishonest of everyone. this is such a large part of where my personal dissonance with everyone's takes came from bc the way people were trying to claim that liking an 18 year old as a 22 year old was something akin to literal pedophilia (<- bc people WERE genuinely saying this) made me feel confused but also deeply guilty because i really just did not understand. and now that im less miserable, i can recognize that that confusion wasnt just linked to parasocialism or whatever deep twisted thing i thought was in my soul, it was literally just not the big insane evil everyone made it out to be. again, this isnt to try and say you individually cant be like "i dont like this" or "this is icky to me" or "this was bad judgement on his part" (<- which is my personal view btw) but to pretend it is some strange insane act of an active predator genuinely boggles my mind. i dont want to chalk everything up to being covidbrained but i think its a huge part of where this dissonance to real life comes from because i really do think if most of you sit down with genuinely and utterly normal people, they will not give a fuck about this. ive SEEN people have conversations about this with noemal people irl and have them literally laugh in their face bc of how deeply unserious it is. and again, i want to reenforce that doesnt mean YOU dont have to care, but to act as if this isnt an objectively undeep incident between two people is odd, especially to the degree ive seen.

now i cant just say this and be done so lets talk about the next part that people had an issue with: fan and creator power dynamic. ill also say this very straight: when the stuff came out with both girls i had a much larger issue with the "age gaps" than i did this for so many reasons. ive always, even before all of this, had my own opinions and such about ccs and fans ever having relationships and it usually along the basis of "as long as there is consent and mutuality, i have no real issue." its not strange to me that people want to be with people they like and idealize and vice versa. to keep this as objective as i can with this perspective, i wont get into thoughts that for dream specifically it especially doesnt surprise me in the sense that his past relationship + facing vitriol from every corner of the internet but fans + overall paranoia could have absolutely reenforced the normalcy and reasoning in this judgement call but i digress. i mean just obvious examples of people wanting to get with celebrities, or groupies or even in platonic ways where fans become genuine and actual friends of creators--ccs having relationships with fans was never a big deal to me personally. and since its relevant to mention in this case, ESPECIALLY online ones. im not saying there cant be power imbalances among a fan and a cc/celebrity, but to get like theyre all inherently like that again just makes zero sense to me and never has even before dream. this applies especially online where power dynamics are significantly dampened from what they can be and just i mean logically, dream has been a full blown cc for like a little less than 3 years and only at this level for maybe 1 or 2 without experiencing it in real life too. the idea that he himself would not see an issue with this, especially because it was a mutual exchange of company, is so completely unsurprising. and at its core, there really is no real issue in it of itself. a bad judgement call from dream? yes and ill stand by that since he shouldve been better safe than sorry. morally bankrupt and manipulative? 😭 no, not after really assessing shit rationally. i also want to add that it was a mutual thing. i know people are really trying to tear everything amanda says apart (<- which is incredibly strange btw, especially if that was your instant reaction and you were doing it publicly too), but taking everything shes saying as true, we know that there was a MUTUAL exchange of things of a sexual nature and this wasnt some manipulative one-sided exchange where dream controlled everything and gave nothing in return. this isnt to say that amandas feelings are entirely invalid or anything along those lines, but those feelings stem from miscommunication and not morally bankrupt predatory behaviours. like seeing all of the info and looking at the situation as it is, its very clear dream saw and believed this to be a mutual relationship. i was so confused and scared and panicked seeing words like "groomer", "innocent", "guilty", "predator" and others being thrown around i didnt even want to try viewing it for myself. but now that i have and now that ive talked to others, this entire situation reads as a bad break up more than anything else, not a strange manipulative abuse of power where mutuality is nonexistent.

overall this entire situation was framed so horrifically and i was tearing myself apart so much about feeling confused, it genuinely did not hit me the extent of just how deeply unserious it was until a friend of mine told me how they went out with their normal, most unchronically online friend, told the situation in the most objective way possible, and they literally laughed in their fucking face 😭 i also started thinking about real life instances of this happening like if it was another cc, a random tiktoker, an actor and realizing i literally would not care--and significantly less people who are as up in arms as they are would care too. and that ignores the fact that it was ONLINE, compared to in-person where whatever power dynamic could exist would be amplified by a thousand.

this entire thing is just so entirely subjective and if your personal opinions and values find this all shitty, absolutely no one is going to try and say to feel otherwise, at least not me. but to completely ignore that its just that--personal--values and opinions that determine how you view this, and act as though it is objectively some morally bankrupt, impossible to understand, predatory situation just feels reactionary and disconnected from real life at best and just shitty and even virtue signalling at worst. and also dont get me started on what some of you twisted that charity event in technos memory into because fucking shame on you, but ill make a separate post on that later maybe.

this really isnt meant to be a form of "dream defense" because if i was taught anything this past week it was that the way i connected so much of my own conscience to my ability to defend dream and his pr was and is entirely unhealthy, and it was all a wake up call--just not towards dream. the level of miserable agony i experienced, not even mostly because of what dream did, but because i felt like i couldnt DEFEND it, was dangerously all consuming and i dont want that anymore. its just not a healthy way to engage with any media, the need to constantly justify it in every single instance, and especially not with a cc. i want to be able to just see drama and controversy ride out and not have it feel so utterly all consuming, even if i do choose to comment on it. im making this statement bc like i said, it really sucked to feel like there was no public voice i completely agreed with and i realized that i could do that role if i wanted. and honestly, its just been very cathartic for me to write all of this out after feeling like an echo chamber of other peoples thoughts and my own grief the last week.

this community disappointed me in many ways, both the freaks who jumped on any baseless thread disproving amandas claims, dissected her behaviour, was very strangely dream defensive and chose to do all that shit PUBLICLY too. but also the people who chose to use this as an opportunity to act in the most reactionary strange ways that felt so virtue signal-y it was nauseating. i know the people who held/hold the views i did also dealt with the guilt and fear i did too, and thus no one was willing to so deal with the mortifying ordeal of a) sorting through these thoughts and b) saying them in any kind of public space even with just close friends, but ESP on a public blog. i mean, that was literally me. but it really fucking sucked to have just these two extremely polarizing and extremely isolating opinions be the only available voices 😭 my thoughts are getting very rambley now and i apologize, but i hope my points are getting across.

this is already insanely long, but ill start wrapping up. if you disagree with me, obviously thats fine. like i said, this was never made with the objective to change peoples minds which arguably was what my usual dream discourse essays was meant for sometimes. this was made for me and for this specific perspective to have light for anyone who wants or needs it. all i hope is that if you do come out of this with anything, is some form of awareness. of either real life, your opinions or even just yourself i dont know.

i really did love my time on tumblr so so fucking much. and i loved the people here even more so. i think i owe it all to you guys and just my blog itself to say my thoughts on shit, no matter if any of you agree or not. plus i mean if this flops i surely never have to face the consequences if im leaving anyways so peepoClap. thank you all so much for everything, and if you made it this far, thank you so much for taking the time to read my bullshit. i dont know if after this ill still leave, but regardless, it feels wrong to not make some homage to such an impactful place in my life. impactful people too :)

thank u all for reading again, and good fucking night !

#this is maybe the longest tumblr post ive ever made but i think it needed to be #i bet lots of you are sick of reading about this too but this still felt important to post #i already said so much in the essay itself so i wont keep going in the tags too #just love u all very much. stay safe everyone ❤️#hope this brings some perspective to anyone if they want it :)#dream situation #discourse

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