#WyAnswers

[wyvernquill]

what are your top 5 armandaniel moments from the show? :D

Ah, thank you very much for the ask! Let's see...

#1 - s2ep2, The Lestat-as-co-founder-of-the-Theatre reveal moment, with Daniel putting on the telenovela music and Armand listing some of his other 'conquests' - they're totally messing with each other here, it's petty and weird and theatrical and I grin every time. Honorable mention to the potential for "you shared a boyfriend!" to get very ironic if more Armand/Daniel happened in the past, and also Louis sitting there going "...did you!?" at Armand's story about "Now, Voyager". I don't know, it's just very funny, says a lot about both of them really, and I like it when a ship does A Bit, either together or, like here, *against* each other.

#2 - s2ep6, The argument over the San Francisco memories. As opposed to my #1, this one's raw and bitter and tense (they're still messing with each other, but the stakes are higher and the attacks more vicious...), and I love it very much. "I didn't forgive you" and "why did I owe ~YOU~ my one act of cowardice?" are lines that hit very hard, I enjoy how Daniel keeps not buying the excuses even as Louis begins wavering, even though Armand directed most of them at Daniel to start with... it's a very interesting and powerful scene showcasing the shifting dynamics of these three, and I once more like the potential for recontextualisation if Armand and Daniel have more history than previously advertised.

#3 - s2ep5, All of it, really. Obvious choice maybe, but oh well. I love the juxtaposition of the dramatic past and Louis and Daniel putting their feet into the rock garden in the present, the new angles we see of the characters in a memory of the past that *isn't* very carefully curated for interview purposes, and, I mean, "I could be on my knees in a second" - >small nod to force him to his knees<...

#4 - s1ep7, The reveal, particularly Armand floating so Daniel has to stare up at him. It's a nice mirror to the power dynamic and positioning we see in s2ep5, and overall just a wonderfully dramatic scene with Armand removing his disguise in the back while Daniel is ripping into Louis. The theatralics of it all are very *Armand,* and Daniel being struck nearly speechless by surprise (and maybe awe? something else?) for once is also great, though we all know he's just gearing up to tear into Armand too in s2.

#5 - s1ep6, Daniel dreaming of first meeting Louis in Polynesian Mary's... but, gasp! Inexplicably, 'Rashid' is there, too! And meanwhile, in the waking world, 'Rashid' is probably busy tucking a blanket over Daniel while he sleeps. Honestly I just love the flashback, Daniel and Louis' semi-flirting, the way it sets up the reveal in the next episode, and, well. I do like to imagine that the blanket-tucking was done by Armand and was oddly tender. I just think the whole thing's neat.

I probably forgot a number of moments I really enjoyed, but, well, these were the first five I could think of! Louis has snuck into a lot of them, but that is unsurprising, at least in s1 and s2 all three of them are very tangled up in each other, and it's difficult to pick a moment with two of them that doesn't involve the third somehow (except maybe the Loumand scenes in the past, but they narrate those to Daniel, so...) Looking forward to seeing those dynamics shaken up in s3, I suppose! (also, Devil's Minion in the past, pls? Chase, pls? Pls?)

[wyvernquill]

your newest chapter of True Love is everything, I can't wait to see where you take the rest of this fic, every time you update it makes my day! :D

Are you working on other DM fics at the moment, or are you reading any armandaniel fics? I'd love some fic recs!

Thank you so much!!! <3 I thiiiink there's another third of the fic still to go, roughly? Some of it is written, but not all, so it's difficult to estimate.

Currently, True Love (and other lies) is the only DM fic I'm working on (I also have my older fic The Favourite, though that's all finished, of course), though a recent conversation with a friend did give me an idea for an Armand POV spin-off in which Armand genuinely IS lying about past DM happening and then gets too tangled up in the lie, so, maybe I'll do a crack-treated-seriously oneshot of that once this WIP is done?

Fic recs, let's see, I'll go through my bookmarks...

The Great Daniel Molloy Discourse of 2024/25 by Siria (T) is a fun multimedia thing toying with formatting that I quite enjoyed!

forever's gonna start tonight by trinityofone (E) was also super fun, Daniel and Armand may or may not be vampire sex soulmates and it nearly ruins The Tour. (I also liked the same author's Four-Way Call (E), though the focus of that is of course more on DanLou.)

I'm the Devil's Minion and He Grants My Every Wish (M) by OracleOfTheSea has Rashid!Armand seduce Daniel pre-reveal, and the pining and heartbreak and identity porn got me good.

I don't think I'm all caught up on The Thing You Love Most Is The Detriment (M) by fixation_or_infatuation, but the chapters I read I really enjoyed - Daniel hangs out with Loustat, and drama brews on the rockstar tour bus, especially when Armand shows up...

I hope you'll enjoy these, thank you again! <3

[wyvernquill]

Omg your 'True love' fic is SO good, love the latest chapter!!! I was dying laughing out loud over and over. So many hilarious parts, and I loved the sweet/moving part about Armand and the pillow stealing/scent. Aww. Thank you for posting this fic! It's so fun and funny. I also really liked the interplay of them both trying to mess w/ each other; my favorite was the great customer service of the misspellings that weren't even asked for lmaoooo <3<3

Ah, thank you very much for this lovely ask!!! <3

I'm having a great deal of fun in these early chapters with the more antagonistic dynamic, and how they mess with, and plot against, each other. It's petty and unnecessary and solves absolutely nothing, but I think they both need the outlet. And the description of the horrible not-really-a-coffin-more-a-box, misspellings and all, was also very much my favourite thing to write!

(Because I haven't mentioned it on this blog yet, for the benefit of my other followers: the fic the ask is referring to is my second IWTV Armand/Daniel fic, True Love (and other lies), in which Daniel doesn't recover his memories of their past relationship in the 70s/80s, and simply thinks that Armand is trying to gaslight him into believing a complete fabrication of past love...)

[wyvernquill]

Hello it's me again!

I don't want to sound pushy so you can say a resounding NO!!! if you want to

But it would be okay for me to write something set on your universe post Rings of brass and iron? I just love it so much and would love to explore their dynamics after that whole *gestures vaguely* thing.

Oh, I'd be absolutely delighted, please do!!! I'd love to see more explorations - I'm working on a fic for another fandom now, but I'd lie if I said I hadn't idly wondered what'll happen to them afterwards... - and would be very excited to see your take on them! <3

[wyvernquill]

I'm just in the middle of reading your Neverwhere fanfic and I'm so feral about it and know more about old German architecture than I thought I needed.

Love your characterization and storytelling ability and God I hope to see more of marquis and Richard because we are so poor provided in this section.

Thank you very much, I'm so happy you're enjoying it!!! <3

Fun fact about the old German architecture: I didn't even plan it that way, but at the end I realised that there are four (4) fountains (all within about 10min walking distance of each other in the real world) I somehow managed to make relatively important to the plot. Two of them were designed by the same artist, it turns out! I didn't even *know* one was technically a fountain until I did research on it! The fountain-to-fic ratio really is bafflingly high in this one.

Agreed on Richard and the Marquis - I love the ship, think it's more integral to the novel itself than it seems at first glance, and wish there was more content. I've enjoyed what little there is, scattered around the internet, but it's definitely more of a little rowing boat than a *ship*...

(For my Tumblr followers who might not follow my Ao3: the Neverwhere fic in question is Rings of Brass and Iron (rated M, 37k), which I wrote for the Sufficiently Advanced fic exchange.)

[wyvernquill]

Hi there!

I just recently finished "The Whole Damn World Seemed Upside Down" and absolutely loved it! Your writing style enchanted me,*

*You wouldn't know this, but this means a lot in my mouth, since I usually don't enjoy fanfic at all

the plot was compelling, and the characterization was just... on point. It was definitely the best fanfic I'd read.

I wanted to ask if you have considered going back to "Yes And Please And Thank You"? I started it and read the first chapter before realizing it hadn't been updated since 2020. But the concept seemed to have so much potential, I was already sucked in!

Best wishes,

Average Good Omens enjoyer

Oh, thank you so much!!! That my fic is the exception to the rule, so to speak, is the highest compliment I could possibly receive - I'm very glad you enjoyed it.

As for the fic... Written In The Stars admittedly wasn't on my shortlist of WIPs to work on and finish next. But, funnily enough, the fic you mixed it up with also lay unfinished since 2020, until I spontaneously decided to finish it over the past few weeks - so, you never know!

The interest in the fic is definitely noted, and perhaps I'll return to it sooner rather than later, after all. I've had my love for Good Omens reignited somewhat by s2 coming out, and if there's still some GO fic in me after I've wrapped up my current projects (new end-of-s2 canon divergence fic, and an old Phantom of the Opera AU), Written In The Stars will be next!

Thank you again! ^-^ <3

[wyvernquill]

16, 18, and 29 for the ask meme?

(The Ao3 Wrapped ask game post can be found over here!)

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Overall it's "humor" with 35 fics - I'm a jester by nature, I am - and just this year, it's "humor" and "pining" at a tie with 11. "Illustrations" is also second overall and third this year, because I so often add some art to my fics! (Thanks to this year's Yuletide/Christmas Exchanges spree I went on, "Gift Fic" is also pretty high up there...)

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

Hmmm.... that'll probably be a tie between legendary strategist Kongming in a fic for the anime Ya Boy Kongming!, which was dreadfully difficult to write because I know nothing about the Three Kingdoms and his stratagems, and yet had to write him as appropriately clever - and the other is Perry Rhodan, the lead of an obscure German scifi serial that has been running since the 60s. I wrote a fic for it as a gift to my girlfriend, and... well... Perry Rhodan is the FLATTEST Mary Sue you ever did meet in (at least the first volume of) canon. I practically had to reinvent the bastard entirely to make the fic compelling... and I doubt more than a dozen people will ever read the damn thing, anyway. Ah well. The things you do for love.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I never published it, but that Blackadder fic I was idly writing on in August/September has some gold bits. Here's one of my faves:

“No, Mr. B, I didn’t mean sod off as in you sod off.” Baldrick hurried to explain. “I mean sod off as in that bein’ my name!”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah. Sod-off Baldrick.”

“I see how you thought I already knew it, now.” Blackadder nodded to himself. “Is that the kind of first names your family goes in for, then?”

“Naaaah, everyone else got normal names, like Uncle Billy and Cousin Anna and my little niece, Raddish.” Baldrick smiled fondly to himself, as he always did when telling stories of that flea-ridden rabble he called family. “Though, come to think of it, my grandmother’s maiden name was Christina Getfucked.”

“Sounds like she was a lovely, virtuous woman.”

“Oh yessir. The best! I named a turnip after her.”

“Christina the Turnip?”

“Getfucked the Turnip.”

“Of course.”

Sometimes I randomly say "Getfucked the Turnip" out loud to myself, and giggle.

Thank you for the ask! <3

[wyvernquill]

for the fandom year in review asks! - 1, 9, and and 19?

Oho, hi Panda! Thanks for the ask! <3

(Link to the Fandom Year In Review Ask post - and also the Ao3 Wrapped one I reblogged earlier this week, in case somebody wants to send in more asks for that one, too.)

1. Favourite fictional characters this year?

Gosh, the difficulty of choosing favourites... but if it's for the whole year, I think I'd have to choose some Vampire Dies In No Time characters. Probably Bob (whose actual name is Clergy), who has a special place in my heart, and the year. He first showed up in a flashback chapter at the beginning of the year, February I think, then I accidentally coined the fanon name "Bob" for him which haunted me all year (in a good way), and only at the start of this month, the author revealed that, instead of being dead as we all assumed, he was actually turned into a vampire and is living in the same town as all the other characters. I'm very happy for my boy, and that's why he's getting crowned my favourite.

9. Best new fandom discovery of the year?

Aside from the "Bob being alive" thing? Well, if I read this as "best new fandom I discovered", then it's The Sandman, hands-down, and specifically the kinkmeme softest-punk set up, which really drove my fic productivity up to previously unseen heights!

19. Fandom that made an unexpected comeback?

Don't know if that counts, but I rewatched Blackadder with some friends and it brought it back to my awareness, even wrote some idle fic for fun - and read an absolute masterpiece of a fic, and got another gifted for Yuletide!

(Alternatively, I've certainly seen Black Butler make a comeback on my Tumblr dash specifically, wonder who could've been responsible for that... ;3)

[wyvernquill]

I was rereading Unaching Scars (Which I Should Hide) and wanted to drop a quick compliment for the art!!! The scars are so amazing and really stand out, and I love what you did with the fire background!

Ooooh, thank you! <3 It's been so long that I sat here for about five minutes trying to remember which fic you mean... but then I recalled the Soulmate AU Pact of ages past, and the art I wrote for Pearl's fic, and the lightbulb went on above my head.

I'm glad you like it! At the time, I was still learning how to draw digitally, and just kind of threw brushes at the canvas to see what they did. That one turned out to result in some nice fire effects, lucky me!

[wyvernquill]

for the ask meme 2. and 4. (if 2 is hard to choose then you can append it to 14-16)

Hi Wyrmie! <3 Thanks for the ask!

(Link to the Fandom Year In Review Ask post - and also the Ao3 Wrapped one I reblogged earlier this week, in case somebody wants to send in more asks for that one, too.)

4. Favorite books read this year?

Hmm... I've partially read "Colour of Magic" by proxy because Luc was reading it and kept sending screenshots, and that gets pretty high billing simply by virtue of being by Sir Terry. Dishonourary mention to the first book of the Perry Rhodan series (a German scifi series), which was very interesting as a piece of Cold War literature, but also HORRIBLY misogynisty.

14.-16. Favorite m/f (and f/f, and m/m) ship of the year?

(I've decided to take you up on the split after ship types, so I can have a bit more variety!)

M/F: Now, technically, "M/F" is a bit reductive for them, but I think I'd go The Doctor/The Master from Doctor Who, in incarnations where their genders apply to this, particularly 13/Dhawan!Master (though 12/Missy is always a favourite of mine!)

F/F: Kerori/Gyari from Mairimashita! Iruma-kun! is always a delight, for all that there wasn't much content for them this year. There's also a number of fun F/F Vampire Dies ships, but I don't think I could choose just one from those!

M/M: I've kind of answered this for the other ask game - either Hob/Dream from The Sandman, or Kantarou/Nagiri from The Vampire Dies In No Time - honourary mention to Iruma/Azz from Mairimashita! Iruma-kun!, if there was an OT3 question I'd definitely choose Love Trio.

[wyvernquill]

For the ask game, 9 and 7! ✨

(The Ao3 Wrapped ask game post can be found over here!)

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

Oh gosh, it's so hard to choose... I'm tempted to answer Dream/Hob from the Sandman, since I do enjoy that a lot and wrote plenty of fic about them, but if I'm honest... I'll go a bit more obscure and say it's Kantarou/Nagiri from The Vampire Dies In No Time, I wrote a 50k soulmate AU about them and still feel very passionate about it (there's identity shenanigans and angsty backstories and misunderstandings and everything, a truly delicious ship!)

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

This one's a tie between Queen (a true classic, I've been making good use of them since my Good Omens fandom days) and Puccini, because I wrote a Turandot AU this year, which... made citing the opera practically inevitable, of course.

Thank you very much for the ask!

[wyvernquill]

I am BEGGING for more anastasia au. I need Dream to realize what Hob has done for him twice over and reckon with the fact he sent Hob away so coldly! So cruelly! I wanna grab him by his scrawny shoulders and give him a good rattling to get that brain working!!

Soooo this was HIGHLY requested, Dream Finding Out, and while I did write up the Bad Ending version of that already over here, now it's time for the proper scene! All 3k words of it. It got long. Hope you enjoy, everyone!

I also set up a masterpost for the AU here, which I've pinned and will update as I post new parts!

(Tag list: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-kingdom and finally @acedragontype too because of the ask answer included here.)

Dream is given a room.

It is strange and uncomfortable, to live with his siblings, and in such a humble abode. Part of him misses his palace, the endless expanse of the Dreaming, and another part thinks this is far too grand a place for a man who had spent the past few years mostly sleeping rough.

(And yet another part thinks longingly of modest little inns or ship cabins or train compartments, of uncomfortable train station benches barely wide enough for two but now fitting three, his head on Hob's shoulder as they are both dozing off - but he does not pay much heed to that part.

It was a temporary delusion. A lovely dream.

It's over now.)

Still, he is glad for it. In an exhausted, melancholy way, perhaps, but still he is glad. Before… before Murphy, he had thought he would never see any member of his family again (except, perhaps, Death, at the end), would never walk free, would never regain even a fraction of the powers humanity has robbed him of - this is a gift. This little magical refuge-space for what remains of the Endless, the scraps of magic he feels flickering in his ruby, Matthew faithful by his side - it is more than cruel and greedy humans would have wanted him to have, so he is glad.

Though it is not so easy, some days, to remind himself of that.

"Dream?"

"Dear sister." Dream raises his head from a collection of plays he has found in the House's modest library, and gestures to invite Death into the room. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You weren't at dinner, I wanted to check up on you. See if you were alright. And…" Death holds up a plate. "...also to bring you some sandwiches."

"That is kind of you." Dream avoids her gaze. "I merely felt unfit for company tonight. And require no sustenance, in any case."

"Don't you?" Death sets the plate down on the low table next to Dream's armchair, and pulls another up opposite him. "Destiny does, now. Desire too, I think, though of course they don’t like to admit it. Despair feels heat and cold - you've seen her in her new knitwear, haven't you - and Delirium has a human's sense of balance. Very frustrating for her, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Dream glances up, frowning.

"We have been weakened, Dream. Damaged." Death points out, carefully, gently, with a sad smile. "All of us. We are Endless, still, of course, and we will rebuild, recover our realms and tools and powers eventually - but, for now, perhaps for a long while yet, we aren't as we were. New requirements, new struggles. We don't have daily dinners the way we used to have "family dinners" - our brother and sibling need to eat and drink, and we eat with them to show we care and are there for them in their time of need."

"Ah." Dream swallows. "I will… make efforts to attend. From now on."

"Good." Death smiles, approving. "You were missed, Dream. Dearly missed. We are all ever so glad to have you back."

"Even Desire?"

"Especially Desire."

A moment of silence.

Death nudges the plate of sandwiches closer, and Dream takes one, tearing off bits to feed to Matthew on his shoulder - and, when Death raises an eyebrow, to nibble at himself.

(Sharing all his food with his birds was ever Murphy’s habit, and Dream finds it hard to shake, the pattern of feeding Matthew first and foremost.)

"What of you?" He asks, after a tiny bite.

"Hm?" Death blinks.

"What new painfully human need do you suffer from, sister?"

Death grimaces, a little awkwardly.

"...I need to sleep. Every night." She finally admits. "And I was glad for it."

She leans out of her armchair, putting her hand on his knee.

"It made me feel just a little closer to my lost brother."

Dream regards her hand - and then moves his own from the armrest, covering hers with it.

(Murphy used to scoff at Death of the Endless, offering up immortality for the safe return of her brother. Had thought it foolish, to offer so much for a wisp of hope, to potentially give immortal life to someone cruel and undeserving.

He understands better, now, he remembers - Death loves him, and he loves her, and there is nothing else that could possibly matter.)

"Are… are you okay?" Death asks, softly, concern seeping through the gentle lines of her face. "Be honest, now, Dream. Please. I worry, and if there is anything we can help you with-"

“I am well, my sister.” Dream says. And then, for the sake of honesty, “or as well as one can be, under the circumstances.”

Death keeps watching him with something imploring in her gaze, so he continues, haltingly.

“I… I am ill-used to these circumstances, still, which are a great improvement over my time as… my absence, and are yet much worse than what I was accustomed to before.” Dream confesses, slowly. “My people have been greatly diminished, and I grieve for them. I grieve for my home, my realm - as all of us Endless do. I thank you for your concern, sister, but there is no aid you could render me that I do not already receive.”

“I can at least listen and be there.” A last squeeze to his hand, before she leans back into her seat. “And assure you that your people are much better for having you returned to them. They were flocking here even before, and… to be honest, none of us were entirely sure what to do with them.”

“Lucienne has told me as much.” Dream inclines his head in acknowledgement. “And I shall see what can and must be done. More nightmares have survived and returned than dreams, so I must make some anew to restore the balance - or change nightmares to dreams. Gault has already volunteered, and I shall grant her request as soon as I have strength enough in me to attempt it.”

(In the past, he might have refused - but his years as Murphy have taught Dream many things about the self, about change… and about the discomfort of existing as one thing when part of you yearns to be another. He will not change any against their will, as the Magus attempted and half-succeeded to do to Dream - but this is Gault’s earnest wish, and they have all lost so much, must all arrange themselves with these new circumstances.

He should like to gift her a little happiness, where he can.)

“Good. I’m happy for her.” Death smiles. "Speaking of your Major Arcana - Gilbert is somewhat anxious that you're going to unmake him. Or at least I assume as much, from him asking some rather philosophical questions about whether dreams die the same way living things do."

Dream knows, and Dream knows he should. With his powers reduced so, he cannot risk keeping a Dreaming creature close who might be… convinced to scheme against him and his. Fiddler's Green was equally complicit in the plot to trick the Endless, just as guilty as Hob. And yet…

"I cannot find it in my heart to punish him for his transgression." Dream half-sighs, fondly. Dear, foolhearted Gilbert. "It is in his nature to mean well, that is how I made him. He is not greedy and cruel as humans are."

"Humans aren't 'as greedy and cruel as humans are', Dream." Death points out, frowning lightly. "Some are, yes. I can't and won't deny that. Others are kind and generous and loving in ways we Endless can hardly fathom. Would you say all dreams are horrid things designed to frighten only because nightmares exist?"

"That is not the same."

"Isn't it?"

Another moment of quiet.

And then Death says, knowingly, “it’s not about humanity as a whole at all, is it? You’re angry with Hob Gadling in particular.”

Dream tenses at the name.

“Aren’t you?” He shoots back. “It is you he swindled and schemed against.”

“Who is talking of swindling? What schemes?” Death shrugs. “I asked for my brother back. He delivered. Impeccable service is what I’d call that.”

“Pure happenstance.” Dream would have spat out the words, if that sort of behaviour wasn’t so beneath one of the Endless. “He is a man of good fortune, not of sound morals. I despise him for it.”

“I don’t. I won’t.” His sister insists, unwavering. “He protected you, Dream, he saved your life many times over, and without him, I wouldn’t be sitting here now, talking to my little brother, seeing him alive and well. I’m going to be grateful to Hob Gadling until the heat death of the universe, and perhaps, who knows, in whatever comes afterwards, too.”

Dream swallows a scoff.

"Well. I cannot deny that he fought fiercely… to protect his chance at your boon." He mutters bitterly. "That I represented it was but coincidence. Even now, with his assurance that he will eliminate the assassin who has been pursuing us, I am sure he does so only out of self-interest."

"...what," says Death.

"Did he not tell you? There was a man attempting to kill me - I did not recognise him at the time, though I suspect I might recall him now - and Hob Gadling intends to do away with him." Another scoff that Dream cannot suppress, this time. "I should not trust him with it, but he has offered - and with his newfound immortality, he is quite ideal for the task."

"His immorta-" There is something strange and stricken in his sister's face now. "Dream. Do you think- has he not told you?"

It is Dream's turn now, to say "what", a strange sense of foreboding settling in his chest. Death is fixing him with the sort of expression he recalls from accompanying her on her daily business, tender and compassionate and apologetic, on the brink of imparting the worst of news - though there is a private horror in the depth of her eyes.

"Oh, Dream," she whispers, reaching for his hand again. "Dream."

"My sister, what is it that I do not know?" Dream feels himself teeter on the brink of panic, gripping her fingers tightly. "What has Hob Gadling done?"

"He refused the reward, Dream." Death tells him, with grief and condolences echoing in her voice. "He's as mortal as any man."

"No," says Dream.

"No!" he snarls, tearing his hand from Death's, rising so abruptly that Matthew squawks and flutters off his shoulder. "You lie! He would have- he would have said-"

"Lie? I would never lie to you!" Death rises too, anger sparking in her eyes. "I thought you knew! Lucienne said he spoke to you!"

"Not about this!" Dream thunders, pacing back and forth, robe swirling dark and angrily around his form. He has fallen now, right off of the cliff, into an abyss of terror, and feels himself drowning. "Why would he- impossible! He must be- what if he tricked you-!"

Something bounces off of the side of his head. Death has thrown one of the sandwiches at him.

"Give me some credit here!" She snaps. "I'm Death of the bloody Endless, I know if I've given a guy immortal life or not! And I haven't! Because he said he does not deserve a reward for trying to trick us!"

("I would give you another boon," Death had offered, frowning, after Hob's polite and apologetic - and insincere, he had wanted immortality still and was forcefully and reluctantly denying himself - refusal. "Whatever you wish for. You have given me back my brother, I would see you rewarded for it."

"Unfortunately," Hob had sighed, his eyes sad and yearning and wistful, "I want only two things, first and foremost. One is immortality, which I have not earned. And the other is something you cannot give me, kind lady, and without which immortality would not be half as sweet besides." A bitter laugh. "I am sure I needn't say more."

He had not. Death understood.)

Dream blinks at Death once, twice - and then turns away, pressing his bony palms hard against his eyes (they burn and yet leak fluid both at the same time), breaths coming in short gasps.

He does not normally need to breathe, he doesn't think, but he needs it now, the hollow star-cavern of his chest tight and constricted as if it held human lungs, a human heart - which it does not. It cannot. Not anymore.

“Dream-” He hears Death behind him, Matthew’s worried and imploring caw - but all he can think of is wiping Hob Gadling’s precious life’s blood from his injured cheek, and sharing a breath (nearly more) for one slow, tender second. Of strong hands holding him close, of smiles and winks, of that final exchange and the tears in Hob’s eyes.

Farewell forever, indeed! Hob certainly intended it to be, that accursed man, intended to go and die and leave Dream-

“Do it now!” Dream bursts out - and how shameful it is that he loses control of himself so in his frantic desperation, no better than he was as a human - and whirls around to face Death again. “Sister, you must do it now - give him his immortality, he is a fool, he knows not what he rejects! Ignore his foolish protests, he has served you well, has placed himself in great peril for me, give him his reward!”

“I-” Death begins, but Dream does not let her speak. He swears he can feel a heart thudding a panicked beat in his chest, and it hurts.

“My sister, please!” He grasps her hands, his own shaking. “Whoever pursued us is no match for a mortal man, he is throwing his life away, I know it! Do not let him die, do not take him from me-”

“Dream!” Death’s voice is sharp enough to cause him to falter. “There’s nothing I can do.”

Dream wavers, shivers, and Death gentles, though her face remains lined with worry and frustration.

“The reach of my powers isn’t what it once was, I don’t have that level of control over life and death anymore. I could make him immortal if he stood in front of me, but not… not like this.” Dream can tell it isn’t easy for her to admit this, to not be the supportive, steadfast older sister she has been to her siblings through this disaster. “By the Creator, Dream, why couldn’t you have talked all of this out with him sooner!? Now look at the mess we’ve gotten ourselves in!”

“If he stood in front of you? You could shield him then?” Dream repeats, seizing on those words like a cat on an unsuspecting mouse, grasping at them like a lifeline. “I shall bring him before you, then, if that is what it takes.” A breath, shuddering, not as unnecessary as it by all rights ought to be. “Yes, I shall do that. Lucienne!”

He begins pacing again, as Lucienne slips into the room, her eyes flickering only briefly from Death’s harried expression of concern to Dream’s agitation, stopping only briefly at the thrown sandwich now on the floor - before a mask of professionalism slides over her face.

“I am at your service, my Lord.” She produces a quill and book from thin air. “Your orders?”

Ah, Lucienne. He has missed her, even when he didn’t know who or what he was missing, missed her clipped, practical nature, and unwavering support. She will serve him well, in this matter and any other.

(Sometimes, as Murphy, he stole books he liked the look of, hoarded them with vague plans of giving them to… someone or other, he’d never known who.

Those books are long gone, now. Sold, when the hunger and the cold became too much to bear, taken by police constables who’d caught wise of his thievery, or simply lost to the elements. But he knows who they were for, now. At least that.)

“Gather any suitable dream-creatures and tell them they are to find Hob Gadling and bring him here.” Dream instructs her, hoping the sharpness of his voice will disguise the tremor in it. “He cannot have gotten far - concentrate the search on this city, and impress on them that speed is of the utmost importance. Whoever finds him may name their reward, whatever is in my power they may have, I care not - only bring him here.”

A minute uptick of Lucienne’s brows as she notes this down, but she clearly knows better than to question Dream’s sudden change of policy in the matter of Hob Gadling. He will explain it to her - but not now, when time is of the essence.

“And, Lucienne?” Dream calls after her as she is already slipping out of the room again. “Hob is to be brought to me alive, and of sound body and mind. He is to be handled with care.”

“...alive?” She repeats, gaze once more flickering over to Death, brows drawing together. “Pardon me, but I was under the impression that he-”

“He’s not.” Death shakes her head, as grimly as Dream has ever seen her.

“Oh.” Lucienne blinks - and then says “oh!” again, eyes widening as understanding dawns in them. “...I see.”

A curt bow to Dream, to Death - and then she is gone. Dream has every trust that she will organise the search with all due haste and utmost efficiency, particularly now that she has… some inkling, of what has prompted Dream’s sudden concern for Hob Gadling’s person.

“You as well, Matthew.” Dream runs a finger over the raven’s wing. “Go and find him for me. Call on all the birds in the sky, have them aid us in this search.”

Matthew ducks his head, caws his agreement - and with a beat of his wings, passes through the border of this tucked-away in-between space into the human world, leaving nothing but a few feathers behind.

And then it is only Dream and Death.

For a moment, they stand together in silence.

And then Death walks up to him, and wraps him in her arms, wordlessly, a silent reassurance - silent, because they both know that she cannot in good faith promise him that all will be well, that Hob will be safe.

She has no control over it, and neither does Dream.

Dream turns his face into her hair, and understands, now, how she felt for near a decade; waiting, and fearing, and hoping, always hoping, for the safe return of one she loved.

[wyvernquill]

I only know about Anastasia through the wiki plot summary, but the parts you've posted so far of the Sandman Anastasia AU makes me excited to read more.

Read the part with the Hob and Dream interaction on the staircase and. The Angst. The potential future angst when Dream finds out what reward Hob actually asked for (assuming that's in line with the movie?) and he runs through this exact conversation in his head again! With those last words he spoke to Hob playing on repeat.

An evil part of me wants Hob to die in his efforts tying up loose ends (but succeeding) and for Dream to find out everything when it's too late to change anything. Maybe shortly after Hob's death. Or perhaps he isolates himself from the world and shows up at the inn 100 years later only to then find out the truth. Dream can never make amends and never gets closure. He settles further inside himself, putting up more walls between himself and the world. Or this is his tipping point.

Maybe Hob leaves behind a letter for him, apologizing to Dream asking not for his forgiveness but wishing him well and hoping that everything is good now that he's back to who he was. That he's happy.

Or, Hob does succeed and survive, and lives out his full life. But still dies before the 100th year meeting, that Dream shows up to.

Don't know the extent of Dream's power in the AU, if there's the Dreaming, if he can feel when a dreamer dies or not enter the Dreaming anymore. Bc in either scenario, what if he decides to never contact Hob again, but he feels Hob's death (bc he can't help but to keep tabs on Hob, despite everything), when, since Hob got his reward, !shouldn't! happen? And that's how he finds out.

BUT while that sounds tempting I'd really rather have the Angst train and the Happy Ending.

Thanks for reading my ramblings!

(Anastasia AU masterpost here!)

Thank YOU for sharing them, I enjoyed them very much! :3c

I'm very dedicated to happy endings, so don't worry, there'll be no great final tragedy... HOWEVER, I did feel tempted to write a sad little something, so I'll juuuuuust put that under the cut here....

(This is NOT CANON to the Anastasia AU - think of it as a hypothetical Bad Ending nightmare at most! Also, warning for major character death, of course.)

(I guess I'll still tag @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans and @sunshines-fabulous-legs even though it's not technically canon to the AU...)

A hundred years pass in a blink.

Dream is busy, oh yes, very busy indeed, gathering his surviving dreams and nightmares together, carving out a tiny, miserable approximation of what was once his realm to house them. The New Dreaming is not what it once was, but it is enough - and where it is not, he works harder.

(If he is busy, then there is no opportunity to think of a time where he was once humans, with human needs and wants and loves. He can banish those memories from his mind, push them under layers and layers of plans and tasks, and feel his heart grow only ever so slightly heavier with it.)

His siblings are as busy as him, all trying desperately to recover scraps of their former strength. Sometimes, he helps them if he can, other times he is simply there to lean on and to hold them if he can't.

In those hundred years, Destiny wept - once, only once, but that was already more than Dream should ever have thought possible - in front of him, Desire screamed and howled and heaped verbal abuse on him in their frustration far more frequently, and Delirium clung to him as her physical form wavered and scattered like iridescent oil on a puddle. She slipped through his arms whenever he tried to hold her in return, and that was, perhaps, the worst of it.

No word of Destruction, Despair quiet and reclusive... and Death oh so tired. The humans now walk to The Sunless Lands without her, often refuse her hand if she tries. Dream can tell how it breaks her heart, and how carefully she hides it for her siblings' comfort.

It's a difficult century for them all.

But some things get better.

They heal. They grow. They recover. Humanity loses grip of their hatred, forgets about what they once did to the Endless, or why. It will take many more centuries, perhaps millenia, to undo all the harm that has been done - but be undone it will, that much is clear even after just one hundred years.

They have hope, still and always; and they have each other, and the truly endless love they each feel for their siblings. Dream is no longer lost and alone in the cold and the snow, as he once was as Murphy. He belongs now, something he has always yearned for, and it is a precious thing indeed.

But still he-

Sometimes, he-

(Hob Gadling and his smiles, Hob Gadling and the warmth of his hands, Hob Gadling and his ever-laughing mouth.

Hob Gadling asking 'would you come' in a voice too small and afraid for him, and the tears in his eyes at Dream's response.

He remembers these, sometimes, and wishes he didn't.)

A hundred years have passed by, and something in Dream has... it has softened. Gentled. Murphy, that frightened, furious, heartbroken man, or what remains of him in Dream of the Endless - he has healed, too.

He is beginning to regret his harsh refusal, now.

Is beginning to miss Hob.

Is considering, perhaps, to forgive him, even.

(The Corinthian has never bothered Dream again, has never wreaked havoc among the humans. Hob has succeeded admirably in his task, it seems... and perhaps this is something Dream should have recalled, in his aching fury: people are almost always better than one thinks they are.)

The hundredth anniversary of their final meeting on the stairs draws near...

And on an impulse, on the centennial of that fateful day, Dream calls Matthew to him, and slips out of their safe haven in silence, telling none of his siblings where he is bound - though he suspects, from Destiny quietly watching him leave, that one at least knows.

He treads carefully in the Waking, in the human world, but few care to notice him. The Endless are a fairytale, a horror story. A hundred years have washed the truth out of the tale, and there is none of that sharp suspicion in the humans' eyes he recalls from his journey as Murphy.

He is in London in an instant, at the park where he used to feed the birds and steal purses from passersby. Down the street then, to the White Horse inn, and-

And-

The White Horse is gone.

A ruin stands in its place, closed down. The merciless grind of the gears of time have not spared it, clearly.

Dream is, briefly, at a loss. They have not specified another meeting place, and with his diminished powers it is... difficult, even for one such as him, to find a singular human - only more so if that human is immortal, and surely working hard to remain undetected. How will he-

"So you have come," says a voice behind him, and for a moment Dream's not-heart is beating in his throat, and he turns, relief sparking in his chest, the name Hob on his lips like a sigh...

"...sir," Gilbert finishes, standing there alone, and Dream's heart plummets again.

(Gilbert had taken his leave, after the whole affair, had begged permission to remain in the Waking - and Dream had granted it. Gilbert had been such a painful reminder of a time when he's been both at his most miserable and at his happiest, and sending him away had been... easier, then.)

"Fiddler's Green." Dream inclines his head. "My greetings."

"Gilbert. If it please your majesty." Gilbert corrects quietly. He looks sombre, and tired, a far cry from the curiosity and easy cheer of their journey oh-so-long ago. "May I beg a moment of your time?"

"...I was intending to meet..." Dream gestures vaguely to the White Horse, unable to say the words. Say the name. "Do you, perhaps, know..."

"Yes. Yes, sir. I know who you have come to meet." Gilbert blinks a few times, very quickly. Looks down at his hands followed over the tip of his cane. "Please, follow me. I know a place where we can sit and talk."

Dream hesitates, glancing back at the ruins of the inn - what if Hob should arrive in the meantime? - but then reminds himself how close Hob and Gilbert were, once upon a time. Gilbert would not lead him away if not for good reasons.

Quietly, nervously, he follows.

Gilbert brings him to another pub a few streets down, named The New Inn. A sweet, pleasant place, gentle and warm the way Fiddler's Green once used to be - he spends much time here, Dream can instantly tell.

(His eyes search each table for a familiar face. But he finds none.)

They sit, and Gilbert folds his hands, wrings them nervously, before finally pulling a well-aged envelope from his coat.

"This was given to me many years ago by... our mutual friend." He begins, haltingly. There is something achingly sad, something hushed, in the exhausted slump of his shoulders. "He begged a promise from me, that I would be here, on this day, every hundred years, and give it to you, my Lord, if you ever... he instructed me, in confidence, not to suspect you 'ere half a millennium has passed - you have rather defied his pessimistic expectations."

A smile, then... but tears, the dewdrops on flowers in the morning, gathering in the corners of Gilbert's eyes. Fear gripped Dream's heart, and would not release it.

"Dear Robert. And yet, he never doubted that you would, one day, appear. Such faith he had in you."

"Had?" Dream chokes around the word. On his shoulder, Matthew grows uneasy.

"Read the letter, my Lord." Gilbert's smile is gentle as well as sad, as he pushes the letter across the table. "And you shall know all he wanted you to know."

There is a name on the envelope, Dream of the Endless written in Hob's scrawl, still familiar after so many years - and then, (Murphy) underneath it.

Dream dreads what he will find in this letter - but he opens it with shaking fingers, and begins to read, nonetheless.

My Honoured Lord, Dream of the Endless etc. etc. (My dearest Murphy)

It is my fond and foolish hope that this letter finds you well, and that you have since grown to forgive poor, lowly Hob Gadling - who was ever your friend, if you can bring yourself to believe it. (Perhaps you cannot. I wouldn't blame you. But know that, from the moment I first saw you, I cared for you, and never wished you harm. Hate me for the deception, hate me for my greed - but do not think I did not truly love you. Because I did, Murphy, Dream, whichever name you now prefer. I did.) I've asked Gil to hand you this letter if you ever come to the White Horse. Please don't be cross with him, he fought me on this every step of the way, and even now I am not sure if I have sworn him to secrecy firmly enough. If he's blabbed to you, be happy, his loyalty to you has won out over my pleas, which I do not blame him for at all - and if he hasn't. Well. Thank him for me, will you? He's been a true friend to me, always, and I... appreciate his fealty. Now, the most important thing I have to tell you: I refused your sister's reward. Yes, I know. I'm a fool. After all I did for it, too. But you were right. I didn't deserve it, I was a greedy, manipulative bastard... ...and I was in love with you, of course, and couldn't bear the thought of spending an immortal life being hated by you. (Forgive her, too, for not telling you, please. All on my request, not her fault.) I don't know why exactly I refused, in the end. I was trying to prove something, maybe. To me, to you - it hardly matters. Not anymore, at least. I'm going to see if I can't give our pursuer hell, and that'll likely... not end well for me. But even if I am fortunate enough to survive that encounter, I doubt I'll live to the ripe old age of 130-something, so... I'm sorry I couldn't make our appointment, my friend, my love - and after I was the one to suggest it, too. Unfair of me, perhaps... but at least you'll have this letter, and all I wanted still to tell you. If I died, if I am dead now, you must know that I died happy. You are with your family again, you've returned to your true self, and I could help you achieve that. This time, I could help, and I'm so glad. I love you. Foolish, of a mortal, to love an Endless, but there it is. I loved you as Murphy, and I love you still as Dream, and I am happy to know the one I love safe and free and - I hope, I pray - content and living a life of joy. Be well, Dream of the Endless. Think of me, now and then, if you can bear it - and recall, perhaps, that even low and greedy humans may show themselves to be better than you'd think at first. I love you. Forgive me. And farewell forever. Yours, always, always yours, Hob Gadling

A wet splash as a tear drops onto the letter, old ink running slightly under it; and then another, before Gilbert's gentle hands pull the paper to safety.

Dream sits there for hours, crying like a child, like a human, mourning, regretting...

...and admitting, at last, that he loved Hob, and loves Hob still, even now, when it is far too late for love to change any of it.

He would turn back time if he could, beg his father on his knees for the chance to undo this - but he does not have power enough to even ask, and knows he will be denied either way. He has lost Hob; has lost him to anger and jilted feelings, to secrets and unspoken words. To the Corinthian's dagger, or the tooth of time.

He has lost Hob, and his heart with him.

Gilbert and Matthew bring him home, eventually. His siblings comfort him silently, aching in empathy of his grief.

A century has passed, and soon another will start, and pass, and be gone, over and over and over. Life is rich, and goes on forevermore... only without one never-truly-immortal in it.

And Dream will forever remember Hob Gadling, will think of him at every judgement he passes over a mortal life, at every burst of fury in his chest. Will think of kindness, of forgiveness, of friendship.

And, forever and always, of love.

[wyvernquill]

Did Anastasia!Dream have any opinions on Hob pre-fishbowl sledgehammering, or was he just One of The Guards?

>:3c

I never really intended to flash back to that part, but... this ask inspired me.

(Other Anastasia AU posts: Masterpost here!)

(Tagging @martybaker and @globglobglobglobob, let me know if you want to be tagged for updates too!)

Warning: this part is Dream POV of his imprisonment and suffering during it, in particular him slowly being turned human, so be prepared for it to get darker and read with caution!

---

Dream is cold.

Once upon a time, he wandered the vacuum of space and the eternal ice of earth and the dying dreams of a polar explorer, and felt nothing.

Now, lying on glass and metal in a cellar, he is cold.

.

They come every day at dawn, when humanity wakes, and his connection to the Dreaming is weakest. They come, vile Roderick Burgess at their head, and light their candles, and write their symbols on the floor, and sing their chants. They burn incense and worse things, every dawn anew.

They hold their rituals, and they are beginning to catch, little magical hooks inside him, tearing at him, into him.

Changing him.

.

He feels the eyes of the guards on him at all times, feels their gazes never leave him. Cruel eyes, greedy eyes, hungry eyes, disinterested eyes, disgusted eyes.

Compassionate eyes, one pair of them, sometimes, watching him sympathetically.

But that does not matter. Many of them are compassionate, at the start. Either they rid themselves of their compassion, or they are gotten rid of altogether. Kind eyes, gentle eyes - they will fade.

None of the Burgess’ guards may feel anything but fear and hatred for Dream of the Endless.

.

The change is coming upon him ever quicker.

He has begun to feel hungry, last week. By now, hunger cramps wreak havoc on his body, leaving him shaking and shivering. It hurts, it hurts - everything hurts. His body aches.

Every dawn ritual makes it worse.

.

Soft eyes, guilty eyes. Darkly pleased eyes, greedy for his pain.

Dream hates them both the same, for neither does anything to save him.

.

They cut him, two dawns ago. A blade on a stick, shoved into his prison, carving a line along his ribs.

They cut him, and he bled.

Not much, but for one such as him, a single drop is already an anomaly.

The cut has healed in minutes, but there is a scar, pink, from his sternum to his waist.

They cut him, and left a mark, and Roderick Burgess grinned with triumph.

.

He fears.

He fears that he fears, an emotion alien in its sudden vehemence. An Endless’ fear is a distant thing - this is not.

He fears for himself. More than that, he fears for his siblings.

Was he the first they captured? The only? He hears them speak, sometimes, before and after the dawn, of efforts to pursue the other Endless, but never enough for him to know.

He fears for the ones he loves, and aches with it.

(At the start, he was only furious, indignant that greedy, cruel humans would rise up against him, against his siblings, that they would have the gall to bite the hand that has fed them all these countless millennia, to tear it right from the wrist with such boundless brutality.

He is still angry, and surely always will be - but this terrible fear is choking out all other emotions, and pain numbs the rest.)

.

Sad eyes, thoughtful eyes. Overflowing with pity.

Dream thinks that this is what should have been the Corinthian’s true purpose: to tear out the pitying eyes of those who see true agony and do nothing to help.

.

He draws breath slowly, in and out of his chest, in and out, in and out.

When Dream of the Endless breathed, then it was only for appearance’s sake. The air left his lungs unchanged.

But since after the last dawn, he can taste it, how the air is getting thinner and thinner, oxygen count decreasing molecule after molecule that stays behind in his chest. He is breathing, now, he has need to breathe - not much, but ever more with every minute tick-tick-ticking by.

And the air in his prison is getting thin.

Suffocation will not be a kind way to go, but neither will any other he can hope for, in this cellar, with Burgess and his mad cult.

.

Caring eyes. Dream does not know him. When he could have still Known, in the manner of Endless, he refused to regard his captors with such interest - and now, that sort of Insight slides through his fingers like water, like sand, and he cannot grasp it.

.

“It’s almost done, the ritual. Almost complete.” Burgess told him, last dawn. Hateful, spiteful, grief-mad and cruel eyes, staring down at Dream as if he is a sandcastle he itches to destroy. “Tomorrow, Dream of the Endless. Tomorrow, your time will come.”

Dream glares, and does not speak.

(But something deep in his chest sighs a soft finally)

.

On his final day, the world is blurry, faded. His vision distorts and fades in turns, and he cannot see far beyond his prison, the guards nothing but vague shapes in his periphery.

(He still feels the weight of their eyes on him, heavy, suffocating, hatredguiltdisgustworryfearhope, making his aching skin crawl.)

He meets his own gaze in the glass, and blinks, and finds not darkness and stars looking back at him, but pale-grey-blue human eyes, unfocused and bloodshot; blinks, and sees galaxies again.

He closes his eyes, and dares not open them again.

.

Compassionate eyes. Determined eyes.

Will they watch Dream too, at the end? Will they close, when the object of their fascination, their pity, is extinguished?

Dream might never find out.

He’s so tired.

Night is falling. Burgess said it would be his last.

Will you cry, kind-eyed guard? Will you mourn?

Will you remember, forever and ever, how you saw Dream of the Endless die?

.

All is very quiet - and then, all is very loud.

A shout, the crack of a fist against skin and bone. More shouting. Dream’s head is pounding.

Fierce eyes, frenzied eyes, get back from the glass, get back.

Kind eyes. I’ll get you out.

A grunt of exertion, the sound of air flowing past something heavy.

And then an earth-shattering crack.

The glass breaks, and Dream knows that it was too late in an instant.

To finish the ritual would have killed him - but so will this, the disruption of his prison’s confines like a physical blow to his chest, his changed body rending itself apart at the seams.

He screams, a sound torn from deep within him, hands clawing and scrabbling at the cracking and disintegrating glass around him, and it hurts it hurts it HURTS-

Shocked eyes, scared eyes, shielded from the glass shards behind a hastily-thrown up arm kind eyes kind kind kind so kind only kind thing he has left-

Dream’s cold and he’s hungry and he’s in pain and he’s choking and he’s bleeding and he’s dying and he’s huma-

And then

it

all

goes

.

.

.

dark

[wyvernquill]

What kind of “I recall his yellow cat” moments would Anastasia!Dream have? (Maybe something eerily specific about the palace? Or maybe a particular glade or waterfall in Fiddler’s Green?)

Oh, oh, oh, I've had some ideas there which could give him away a little!

(link to the AU masterpost!)

He calls Delirium "Delight" automatically when listing "his" siblings (because, in this AU, she only became Delirium in the aftermath of the Endless being dethroned). "I know my little sister's name!"

He sometimes speaks/understands ancient languages he proooobably shouldn't have any knowledge of.

He makes an offhanded comment about what sort of dream Fiddler's Green was (a place, a garden, peaceful...), and Gilbert, who has up to that point not mentioned the specifics, goes "...I don't believe I ever told him that???"

very early potential hint: he calls Hob by his full name during their first meeting, even though he only introduced himself with the first before. Hob doesn't notice, of course. (And, of course, the obvious:)

>about Despair< "and I recall her yellow rat" - "oh, right, she had a- what?"

[wyvernquill]

The mental imagine of the other Anastasia endless gathering together for the first time after the overthrowment. Seeing the damage, the new despair, and the moment of comfort in the pain when they all come together…..and the cold realization that of the empty space within them. What were their reactions, when, for their one of their own was beyond their reach?

Thank you for the ask! I'm not going to write this one out fully, I don't think, since the core of the story will be mostly the POVs of Hob, Dream, and Gilbert - so here's a little summary of what the Endless are dealing with at the time!

(Masterpost for the AU is here - and tagging @10moonymhrivertam, @martybaker and @globglobglobglobob!)

At first, the Endless all hope Destiny can provide them with some guidance, but there are only scraps and single pages of his book left, and he seems disorientated, almost helpless, without it.

Even though Death is only the second-oldest, she more or less takes on a head-of-the-family position (in part because Destiny really isn't up to the task at the moment, though the two often sit together and try to piece something together from the scraps of his book). She's the one to call them all together, and tries her best to ensure they don't lose hope/are safe from further attacks.

Desire is absolutely distraught. In this AU, they didn't have a hand in Dream's fishbowling and weren't vortex-plotting, so this came completely out of the blue for them. They might've contemplated a bit of scheming here and there in the past but - they never would've wanted anything like this, and the loss of their realm and powers is hitting them hard. (Though not as hard as the loss of their twin's past aspect, of course...) I did give them a family in Unity as their consort and Rose and Jed as their children, because I thought it would be sweet, so that's something that is keeping them at least a little more stable.

Despair's new form... struggles. Everyone fusses over her, even though, in this situation, she's probably doing better than the rest of them - they're all terribly close to despairing, after all, and though she has the memories of her past self, she has never really known any other state of affairs... Still, an Endless being "reborn" this way isn't an easy process even under the best of circumstances, and hers were the very worst.

Delight was driven to become Delirium by the whole affair (you can tell I'm focusing everything bad that happened to the Endless ever onto this one point in time) and is being fussed over just as much as Despair. Her grasp on reality is tenuous at best, and it frustrates her siblings at times - but just as often it gives them some solace when Delirium talks about something silly and nonsensical, or creates something colourful just because she can.

And then, there's the two missing brothers, of course.

Destruction ran away. He's still in existence and not trapped by humans, they know that much, but he refuses to meet up with the rest of them again. (In part because he blames himself for the destruction wrought upon his siblings, and believes they would be better off without him.) They miss him, but have accepted his choice.

Dream, however... they worry about Dream, and feel his absence keenly. They have no word of him, nothing but rumours and stories among the humans, about one of the Endless bound and turned human, and finally killed in that form. They're horrified by the thought of such a thing happening to one of their own, and only moreso that it could've happened to Dream. Many creatures of the destroyed Dreaming have attempted to contact the Endless for help, for any word of their lord... but there's nothing. With their limited powers, with the danger humanity still poses, the Endless can't very well search for Dream - hence why Death has offered the reward of immortality for his safe return. It's the one thing she could think of doing, and it's half to maintain some sense of hope among her siblings (and for herself), to keep the possibility of Dream still being out there alive...

The first time they all sit together Afterwards is especially horrible. Destiny barely a shade of himself, a new Despair, Delirium in the place of Delight - and two empty seats. "Destruction... isn't coming," Death then says, in answer to an unspoken question among them. "Has anyone heard from Dream?" Silence. Endless eyes glancing back and forth among each other, unease only increasing as nobody is speaking. A realisation dawning, in that silence. The sudden quiet understanding that they've lost even more than previously thought...

(Little bonus info I've already put into a snippet I'm working on: the Endless siblings have also been changed by the loss of their powers in some subtle ways, have become a little human-like in some minor aspects. Some need to eat, others need to thermoregulate, or to sleep. It's distressing, the keen awareness of how low they have been brought, even as they are all relatively certain they will regain their usual powers/realms/domains/abilities eventually. They are Endless, after all. Humanity might have torn them down for now, but they have all the time in the world to recover... Hence why the thought of Dream actually being dead and destroyed entirely frightens them a great deal. The thought that this is something that will remain an empty space among them, something that can never return even remotely to how things once were...)