#hob gadling

[chaosheadspace]

I'm going to shamelessly ask for both 📚 and 🌹

Hi TJ, thank you for sending in an ask and thank you for being so patient! I'm gonna get to all of these, it'll just be a hot minute. It should be illegal how busy I am, and all I really wanna do is write, goddang. But here you go. (Obligatory disclaimer that this is first draft and I am not a native English speaker.)

📚Library boys:

He can almost taste what he doesn't yet have, what he doesn't yet feel; mornings with Murphy and Orpheus that fill his heart with butter-soft warmth, lunches full of laughter and dinners made of sleepy but comfortable silences. He craves the satisfaction, the surety of a well-fitting, lived-in place for himself, longing for a day he doesn't feel like he'll have to carve it out of the space between Murphy and Orpheus with shaking hands and sharp tools, afraid of breaking away something that can't be fitted back, afraid of breaking something apart.

Reality feels like a draughty knit of his fantasies, the pattern too intricate for his clumsy fingers, stitches dropped all throughout, a chill creeping in.

🌹Home should be where the heart is:

It felt to him as if he was looking in on a ghost long past, so Hob closed the door again. But the next one, oh, the next one, Hob couldn't resist.

It was a big, generously equipped music room. Hob could see various drums, a few viols and other stringed instruments Hob couldn't name, and there, right by the window, stood a harpsichord. With a glee he hadn't felt in a long time, Hob sat down on the bench and laid his fingers on the keys. It was dusty, and his fingers left shining black imprints where they were otherwise grey.

Hob had never learned to play an instrument like this. He had listened to a few concerts, before, but the technical workings of playing one never found its way into the things he learned. He pressed down on the keys anyway with childlike wonder, awed at the dissonant, out of tune notes that sharply reverberated through the room. When he had enough, he turned on the bench to look around some more.

Opposite him was a tall shelf, [housing] boxes of various sizes and shapes, as well as a very particular wooden box that had Hob's heart beating faster with joy, for he recognised what it was. It had two windows in which one could see golden pipes, and a lever with which to turn the mechanism.

Hob jumped up and did so, maybe a little too fast in his excitement, for the melody coming out of the small barrel organ hopped and jumped funnily until Hob slowed his hand. It was a lovely tune; filling his heart with lightness and his feet with the desire to dance. Alas, he could not, or the music would stop.

[maarigolds]

[seadeepspaceontheside]

Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Get duned.

[pointyshoesmf]

Hob talks a lot about nothing in particular; Dream wants

Finally finished this one, so have some 80s Dream(his ass is not listening)

[lokis-bitter-ghost]

ships in the neil gaiman universe are so funny to me because you have

two guys who are both dead, one who died in the edwardian era and then was sent to hell for 70 years and one who died in the late 80s who decided not to (potentially) go to heaven to stick with some guy he met a minute ago

a LITERAL angel and a LITERAL demon who have known each other since literally the beginning of THE UNIVERSE

and a guy who said "actually i think i dont wanna die. what if i just didnt" and then he actually never did because death thought it would be funny and death's brother, the god of dreams, who thought the other guy would get tired of being immortal and is sticking around to see if he does

[voukkake]

He's just a little inmortal dude living his best life

[bookholichany]

How Neil Gaiman killed me...

[euzede]

pov: you're Hob Gadling undergrad professor of Medieval History at uni and you thought you could sleep in late

(+ bonus obligatory kiss)

[doitforstamets]

[1] Dream: *is eldritch* Hob: Hi, sweetheart.

[2] Dream: *growls* Hob: What’s that, dove? Not sure I understand…

[3] Dream (wetly): Cuddles…

[thebitchesterbrothers]

The Endless siblings and Dream being the stylish bitch he is:

Meanwhile his consort:

[lichanicksstuff]

Professor Gadling always knows which student wrote their paper and which one used chat GPT. Nobody knows how he does it. No paraphrasing program can dupe him. He can always tell. Every one of his colleagues is amazed by this skill, they always ask for his help judging if the essay was written by an AI or a person. And he does that with a wide smile on his face.

It's really easy. All it takes is to give his old friend a good cup of tea and a red pen to mark the ones that were not written by a human hand. "The imitations don't have souls," his friend says. And this is what he tells his students. They never understand and Hob finds it very funny.

[alexxuun]

Redrawing their last meeting in the comic in my style. The way that Hob is the only other person (other than Death) who figure out something is wrong with dream is HNGHNG- and “I worry.”??? “You take care of yourself”??? Ok, Hob.

The original page:

[seadeepspaceontheside]

Dream is tired.

[pointyshoesmf]

Temple of Divine

No matter what i do i somehow always return to The Sandman for some reason.

[lucky-tea-777-blog]

The Knight of Dreams.

Maybe it was medieval AU？

Or maybe it's a knighthood for Hob，From Dream . hhh

[ynnu-64]

“The Kiss” but as dreamling

{from last year}