#purrito of the endless

[notallsandmen]

Blanket Permission

For @academicblorbo and @quillingwords ❤️

Now with amazing art by @quillingwords

***

I knew I should have had him neutered in 1589, Hob thought blearily, having just been yanked from a very pleasant dream and unceremoniously deposited in a mudpuddle outside the Gates of Horn and Ivory. It was apparently monsoon season in the Dreaming again — no thunderclouds this time, but the kind of thick mist of rain that seeped into your bones.

Ah. Right. He should have suspected as much.

Hob hadn’t seen or heard from Morpheus in two weeks, which wasn’t unusual. There had been some kind of diplomatic incident surrounding Thor — who was apparently a) a real, existing god, and b) an absolute moron and a sex pest harrassing all pantheons. Somehow, the latter part made it slightly easier for Hob to not descend into complete existential panic about the whole “gods are real and vaguely beneath me” bombshell Morpheus had casually dropped on him, with the disinterested tone of someone commenting on a disappointing nephew. Every academic institution had their own seemingly unfireable sex pest, so this was at least something Hob could wrap his brain around. But now, the situation had escalated into some kind of divine, eons overdue #metoo movement, and Morpheus had been asked to mediate.

(This was honestly a little rich, given Morpheus’s somewhat checkered romantic past. But, after rescuing Calliope and releasing Nada from Hell, Morpheus was at least showing a willingness to make amends, and that was a step in the right direction.)

So, when his spouse went AWOL for a few weeks, Hob didn’t worry too much.

But Morpheus’s communication style still left a lot to be desired. One recurring and particularly annoying habit was Morpheus’s passive-aggressive tendency to pluck a sleeping Hob from his dreamscape and then drop him somewhere in the Dreaming, forcing Hob to come to him, as if this was some spontaneous lunch-time visit to deliver a coffee order and a snog. Don’t get him wrong — it was bloody adorable, and Hob would do it all the time if he could, but staging this elaborate dance every time instead of just asking him for some loving attention was honestly getting a little ridiculous.

Hob could smell Mervyn’s cigar smoke before he even saw him, giving him a jaunty wave.

“How’s it going?”

“He’s that way,” Mervyn grumbled in response, not even looking up from his moat-digging, nodding his head in the direction of the balcony next to Morpheus’s private chambers.

“Cheers, mate,” Hob said, before sauntering off to collect his sulking paramour in Sulk Zone 1.

But Hob wasn’t quite ready for the sight that met him; an aching tenderness swelling in his throat to the point that he was left a little breathless.

Oh dear. Hob should have known.

Because there on the balcony sat Morpheus, in his cat form. It wasn’t even his majestic ”King of Cats” form, but a scrawny little thing: fur flattened and soaked by the rain, crouching on top of his paws, his tail twitching anxiously, making clipped, pitiful noises that indicated that he was choking down a yowl.

It was heartbreaking, and just a little bit pathetic, and Hob was taken aback by how forcefully he needed to scoop Morpheus up and hold him.

Whenever he turned up at The New Inn or Hob’s flat like this, it usually meant that Morpheus was feeling a little overwhelmed. He would curl up in Hob’s lap, magnanimously allowing himself to be petted until his frantic, self-soothing purring quieted into that of cozy contentment.

However, Hob had never seen Morpheus in his cat form in the Dreaming, before. Maintaining authority, keeping up appearances, and all that — even if Morpheus’s mood swings was probably the poorest kept secret in the realm.

Hob crouched down, reaching out his hand to carefully stir Morpheus from his woe-is-me introspection.

“Hello, darling. Feeling tiny, this morning?”

The sheer force of the needy headbonk against his knuckles was all the answer he needed.

He gazed into the huge, icy-blue eyes: Morpheus’s cat form was pretty much his only non-weepy one, but he knew that the wide-eyed tension around the eyes was the feline equivalent of tear-swollen lids.

Soon, thankfully, something soft swept over his eyes, until Morpheus was slow-blinking affectionally back at Hob.

“There we are, sweetheart. There we are.”

Right. It might be a little bit demeaning, given that they were in the Dreaming — but Hob knew that none of Morpheus’s subjects would dare disturb them, until Morpheus was ready to be seen.

And desperate times called for desperate measures.

Hob closed his eyes, focusing his mind the way Morpheus had taught him. When he opened his eyes again, he was holding a dreamstuff facsimile of the fluffy Starry Night blanket he had purchased from the giftshop after a Van Gogh exhibit, to be used for situations just like these.

Morpheus deflated somewhat, before giving him an obliging nod — a royal edict allowing Hob to tenderly wrap the blanket around him and lift him up, folding it until Morpheus was completely swaddled.

Purrito of the Endless, he thought, biting his lip so as not to show a treasonous smile.

Morpheus melted into his arms with a rumbling purr, kneading his paws into the cloudlike fabric, rubbing his cheek against the palm of Hob’s hand.

After a few seconds, he looked back up at Hob, tilting his head with a tentative, enquiring chirp.

Will you stay?

“Always, my love. I’ll always take care of you. Whatever you need.”

[mh-midnight-wanderer]

[Conservation between G3 Toralei and her mother: Catarina]

Catarina: You know what I think the problem is Toralei. I need to show them that I deserve to be wereruler.

Toralei: *texting on her phone* You don't...

Catarina: They probably see a were-cat like me and think *giggles* she's got it all.

Toralei: They don't.

Catarina: I know it's a silly little title but I don't ask for much.

Toralei: You do.

Catarina: And this is one job *hits car's dashboard* the one job that makes me feel happy.

Toralei: You aren't.

Catarina: I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. I feel I really vibe with everyone.

Toralei: You don't.

Catarina: I'm one of the best employees. If I stopped showing up they'd probably wonder where I went.

Toralei: They wouldn't.

Catarina: Because I'm a nice monster.

Toralei: You're not.

Catarina: I always tip in cash.

Toralei: So.

Catarina: And I can't think of one reason why they wouldn't pick me.

Toralei: I can.

Catarina: Thanks for listening Toralei.

Toralei: I had no choice...

[whereflowersbloom]

Special Mission

Friday evening finds Raven sprawled on the floor of one of the empty rooms in the Titans Tower. Dick had given them permission to convert one of the rooms into a hang out spot since it wasn’t being used for anything else, and tonight the female Titans joined forces with a little help from the guys, to transform it in the biggest, softest, ultra-cozy pillow fort in existence. Tonight was an special occasion. Mar’i was staying over tonight for the first time.

There’s a mountain of pillows, a few bean bag chairs, and soft blankets in light colors covering every inch of the floor. A couple board games are stacked to the side, such as: Chutes and ladders, Race to the treasure, The floor is lava, which isn’t practical if you are playing with a speedster, half-kryptonians and other meta humans, if you asked Rose or Tim. Not too far from there is a television and gaming system Jon and Beast Boy set up. Gar brought some games Mar’i enjoyed last time she visited.

There are a couple of bedsheets hung overhead to give off the effect of a tent, soft fairy lights in pastel colors strung along the edges with adjustable brightness, illuminating the enclosed space. It was Rose’s brilliant idea. The new Titan member claimed to be not good dealing with children but proved to have a gift for decorating.

As soon as Raven stepped inside the room, she thought it definitely contrasted if compared with her room, designed around a dark colors palette. She was completely positive the little girl would like it though. Truth be told Raven was tired and wanted nothing but wrap a blanket around herself and sleep for the next two days. The only thing keeping her from doing it was just little Mar’i standing close to her and looking at everything with wide dreamy eyes, her bare toes wiggling into the softness of blankets. She let out a high-pitched, girlish giggle. The mission tonight was to make certain Mar’i was entertained and safe her first night away from her parents. Piece of cake.

The half-alien girl liked soft and cute things, Raven has noticed. It’s not hard to when she had spent the entire time running her little tanned hands through the fluffy blanket she had been given, wrapping it tightly around herself, calling herself a purrito proudly, needless to explain it was something Beast Boy had taught her.

It was rather enchantingly adorable Raven admitted, a smile curving her lips, meanwhile Donna was snapped a couple of pictures to send to Jon, who immediately replied with endless crying emoticons, unfortunately he was away on a mission with Damian. Quickly Jon sent a text saying they’d probably be home after dinner. Raven was sure Jon showed the picture to his partner, so Robin made proper arrangements to make sure he was at the Tower before his niece’s bedtime. Damian would never acknowledge it, but he secretly relished Mar’i’s attention and adoration.

Mar’i isn’t looking too happy now, she’s looking around as if searching for something or someone, and Raven wonders what went wrong. She replayed the events of the day. Rose entirely disregarded the planned, detailed schedule Robin left for Mar’i’s Grayson visit, declaring it was bullshit and it was time to be spontaneous and have some fun. They all agreed.

They played some of the board games, setting some elementary unbreakable rules, no cheating or using powers. Donna braided the girl’s long dark hair into something overcomplicated but cute. Karen had suggested to watch Netflix, the platform contained a variety of shows appropriate for children. At the end Mar’i had chosen to watch an old cartoon called Adventure Time, that had all of them looking attentively at the television with the same rapt attention all five year olds have, Donna was even gasping and cooing along with Mar’i.

Raven had zero experience babysitting children. They did save children on daily basis, citizens, not her friend’s children. The interaction was limited, this was different to a whole new level. The first time Kori and Dick brought toddler Mar’i, Raven was a bundle of nerves. Thankfully Kori patiently taught her everything she needed to know to look after a child.

And because she’s a organized person, who is little by little becoming a part-time babysitter apparently, she’s fully aware of the the importance of keeping to a schedule as closely as possible. It was also something Damian had repeatedly reminded all of them.

They’re halfway the second season, waiting for the girl to wind down before bed with little success. Raven immediately noticed she wanted something so she patted the little girl’s back, soothing her anxiety away.

“Is there anything you want, Mar’i?” Raven asked in a whisper.

Little Mar’i looked at Raven with teary eyes, tugging her shirt down. “Mar‘i wants Dami.” Oh it made sense. She was looking for a familiar face. Someone that reminded her of his father. Family.

The little girl clung to Raven, clutching onto the fabric of her shirt, she was burying his face in her chest. She obviously missed her parents. But Damian was on the mission with Jon, she doubted they would be back before dinner.

Raven chewed on her lower lip and tries to explain the situation to the five year old. “Damian is away fighting bad guys, like your dad but he will be back after dinner.���

The girl shyly rose her head, the slightest hint of hope sparking in her eyes. “He’ll be back? Really?”

“He promised and Damian always keeps his promises, right?” She smiles warmly at The little half-alien. Thinking of way to stall time before Damian and Jon get home.

Mar’i shook her head, she was wearing a pink dinosaur onesie, curled up on herself, hands in loose fists pressed to her chest, and an apprehensive little frown on her face. “But Mar‘i wants Dami now.”

Raven needs a workable emergency plan. Mar’i hadn’t shown signs of Starfire’s powers but she couldn’t risk upsetting a five year old and unintentionally awake them. This called for backup, a momentary distraction.

Hey Mar’i, would you like to play with someone else?” Raven asked gently, and the girl chewed on her lip and looked down and away. “Do you want me to call Conner?” The Titans pushed and it’s worth it, Mar’i’s head snapped back up to her, glowing green eyes wide with hope, before she looks away again. “I want to play with flyboy.”

“I already texted him. He’ll be here any mi-“ Rose waved her phone at them with a pleased smile on her face only to be abruptly interrupted before Faye could finish speaking.

The door to the room slammed open, making them all jump and jerk their heads towards it. Raven is surprised but already has her shield up, protecting Mar’i who is behind her, her heart hammering in her throat. It took her thirty seconds to recognize the bold invaders.

“What’s wrong with Mar’i? Rose said it was a red code.” Conner urgently demanded, standing in the doorway, a completely destroyed door beyond repair next to him, his electric blue eyes shifting around wildly as if looking for a threat, body braced in a battle stance. “Dude, You didn’t have to destroy the door.” Beast boy appeared, an annoyed expression on his face.

Raven blinks several times, recovering from the shock faster than everyone else, processing Conner’s words. Red code. She gave Rose a reproachful glance.

“What? Could have been one.” Rose said indignantly, and shrugged uninterested. “She wants to play with you, Supernerd.”

“Oh. That’s the emergency?” Conner said in surprise, and straightened up, his face embarrassed, turning red. He shifted a little in place, looking away from them, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously. “Um. Sorry for barging in like that...and breaking the door.”

“Well prepare for trouble.” Gar said with a wide smug smirk on his green face, standing next to Conner, elbowing his partner’s side. “And make it double.” Conner mutters playfully. Well, at least the dynamic duo would keep Mar’i entertained buying them time.

Karen broke the tension by laughing. “Damn Kon-El, that was faster than I expected.“ The rest of them started laughing a little too to shake off the nervous energy in the room. It’s not the first time Conner jumps to action and damages the building, but it’s kind of unsettling to have the intensity of Conner usually reserved for criminals and other threats turned on them. Conner kept apologizing nonstop until he locked eyes with Mar’i.

“Do you like the Superheroes, Mar’i?” Conner said smiling at her and instantly wanted to smack himself, of course the kid liked them, her parents were heroes and the rest of her family. He was still getting used to interaction with children. What would Clark do?

The small girl nodded enthusiastically in reply. “Mar’i likes Titans. I’m going to be like mommy and daddy!” She exclaimed, bounding in excitement. Well, at least Conner had managed to break the shell.

He climbs over the mountain of pillows and blankets and sits down on Mar’i’s other side, and the girl immediately scoots a little closer to him, gripping the hem of his baggy shirt, which has Superman’s distinctive Symbol printed across the chest. Conner instinctually put a hand down on the floor behind her back, giving her more space to press against his side. “Why don’t you tell me what you did with the girls today and after Gar will let you ride him while he’s in his dinosaur form.”

“Mar’i watched Totoro and Adventure time and played Race treasure.“ She spoke struggling with the difficult words and looked up at Kon-El, her eyes shimmering with eagerness and excitement.

“Hey! Don’t talk for others.” beast boy complained, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Come on, BB. Do it for Mar’i.” The little alien approached Gar, opening her arms for a hug. Looking at him with expectant green eyes. “Dactyl.” She kept muttering the word over and over, tugging at Gar’s pants insistently. Gar’s lips turned up ever so slightly, slowly. He looked at her with unsure eyes, and it compelled her to offer a sunny charming smile. When she did beast boy’s face softened, and his shoulders relaxed as he sighed in defeat. “Pterodactyl got it.” He shape-shifted into the flying dinosaur.

They spent around an hour playing ‘catch me’, Mar’i sitting on Gar’s back, Conner flying around the room carefully not to destroy anything else. After ten minutes playing, Donna joined following Raven and the rest of the girls. It was their only chance to act like children, the childhood some never had the opportunity to experience, letting it loose, enjoying at their hearts content. Mar’i was truly a blessing. They decide to take a break when Raven noticed her phone is vibrating. She automatically answered.

“Robin here. Mission was a success. No damage or casualties to report.” Damian said quietly into the phone in his ear, observing the traffic slither along below. “What is the status?” Damian asked tentatively. Part of him was concerned what could happen if he left the Titans looking after Mar’i while he was away. He didn’t doubt Raven was skilled and intelligent, capable of handling the situation. Perhaps he was too alarmed for nothing.

“Under control. We are about to have dinner. Mar’i did ask for you though.” Raven whispered faintly, chewing in her cheek.

Damian took a shaky breath and didn’t hesitate to reply “I’ll let Jon know we are leaving right away. You’re in charge, Raven.” There’s a long silence before Raven realizes Damian hung up. She ran her fingers through her hair. Nothing could Damian Wayne. “It’s time for dinner everyone.” She announced loudly, quickly pulling her attention back to Mar’i.

Everyoone walks towards the kitchen and discussing what they would like to have for dinner: Gar and Conner pizza and she heard Mar’i mention pancakes and mustard.

~~~

That night, dinner was fun. After a few minutes, everyone’s chatting cheerfully, Conner loosened up enough to joke around ever so slightly. He was cautious still, of course, but so was Raven, watching closely Mar’i, she was her responsibility. She seemed to be comfortable with all the Titans. Conner warmed her dinner with his heat vision, making her look in awe. Raven scolded him saying it wasn’t necessary to and it was dangerous. Everyone else laughed merrily. Conner didn’t speak too loud like some of the others, and he wasn’t intimidating, like Damian. There were only few people who could see through Damian’s tough facade. Raven liked his gentle and kindhearted soul. She was sure Mar’i could see them too. When they are almost finish they heard the sound of footsteps approaching. And they were home.

“Where is Mar-Mar? Uncle Jon is here.” A high-pitched voice resonated in the Tower. Followed by a ‘shut your mouth, Kent. You aren’t her uncle.’ Mar’i tilted her head curiously.

"Dami here?" The girl asked, bouncing a little. She cheered when Raven nodded, smiling, thoughts of her uncle Dami whereabouts disappearing from her mind as he walked in, picking her up carefully, she wrapped her small arms round his neck and buried her face in his chest. “Dami.”

“I am here Mar’i.” Damian pats her back affectionately, placing her right on his lap. Damian promised to read her stories until she fell asleep. Jon stood beside him, claiming it was her turn to play with Mar-Mar, and how unfair Damian was being to him, but Damian refused to let go. He had a promise to fulfill and he kept his word.

~~~

It’s dark and comfortable. Raven delighted nights like these the most, when everything feels quiet and unhurried, no drama to deal with. When she can lay down with Damian and just breath, taking comfort in each other’s presence without the need to fill the silence with conversation. It was a much needed break after a long day. Damian for someone who's so tightly packed with muscle, his solid chest, makes an excellent pillow, she decided. A pillow who was currently running his hands through her dark hair. “Did you miss me?” Raven asked teasingly.

“I’d rather be here enjoying your refreshening and warm company than Kent’s” Damian said smugly, voice already rough with sleep. The low sound rumbled through Raven and she finds her mind shutting down without her consent. They were both exhausted.

“It isn’t the same when you aren’t around.” She murmured quietly. Her eyes fluttered, body relaxing as tense muscle melts into jelly.

The door creaked and Damian half twists, lifting his face to look at the door, finding Mar’i in the doorway, standing there in her pajamas, looking unsure and a little scared. “Uhmm. Mar’i wants to sleep with Dami and Rae.” Raven immediately softens and moves making space for her.

“You wanna join us, Mar’i? Come here, it’s snuggle time.” Raven pats the bed, the gesture makes the girl realize it was a sign to get into bed with them.

She pulled the door shut behind her and quickly crawled on the bed, slowly wedging herself under Damian’s arm between Raven and Damian.

“Are you okay?” Damian asked worriedly, sitting up a little. Ready to jump to action if she needed anything. He learnt he couldn’t let his guard down not even when he was relaxing with his soon-to-be girlfriend.

“I couldn’t sleep. I want to watch tv.” Mar’i whispered, her eyes on Damian as if asking for permission. Damian nods approvingly.

“Anything special you want to watch?” Damian questioned, looking over at his niece, as he gets up to get his laptop, placing it in his lap, lifting an arm and putting it over Raven’s shoulders so she can lean back more comfortably and have that little extra space. Mar’i half turns and scoots into a more comfortable position, stretching her tiny legs. “Kiki’s delivery service.” She instantly answered with enthusiasm in her voice.

“Good choice.” Raven grabbed a blue blanket she brought from their new fort room, unfolding it over the three of them.

Mar’i watched the movie with undivided attention, eyelids slowly drooping as the movie flies by until she falls fully asleep pressed against Damian, who was breathing steadily, sleeping peacefully. She felt safe between Raven and Damian, protected, it reminded her of her parents’ warmth and love for her.

~~~

The next morning Damian wakes up to an empty bed. That was not what he excepted. He gets up slowly, mouth uncomfortably dry and with a dull headache from sleeping more than usual. He looked at his phone it read ‘9:00am.’ Tsk. He overslept that was strange but considering how hectic the last weeks has been. It was a possibility his body was suffering extreme fatigue.

Blinking blearily, he made his way downstairs, he stopped when he hears voices from the living room and debated to just say a quick greeting to everyone on his way to the kitchen, or focus on his objective, Raven and Mar’i, but startlingly he gets caught with his mouth half open to speak at the scene in front of him.

“Why is my precious niece floating on a broom?” Damian asked skeptically, not sure of it was a dream or his mind was hallucinating. He finally rubbed the tiredness out of his penetrating keen eyes, watching as Mar’i weightlessly sat on a worn broom, both hands wrapped tightly around it and smiling widely, excitement in her growing green eyes. Raven’s has one hand on the broom, controlling it. So it was real. He reason if she was with Raven she was safe.

“I am a witch like Rae.” She squealed breathlessly.

“Mar’i, I’m not.” Raven shuts her mouth, sighing softly. “You’re a witch. Yes.” She had no idea how Dick and Kori had the energy to deal with the unstoppable hurricane Mar’i Grayson. She supposed it was something she’d find out one day, she told herself. Her violet eyes glancing up to Damian for a second.

It’s here @chromium7sky @andthendk @ravenfan1242 @quoth--the--raven @deep-in-mind67

[notallsandmen]

@quillingwords there’s medieval precedent for Purrito of the Endless 😂

[notallsandmen]

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @reallyintoscience & @beatnikfreakiswriting — thank you darklings❤️

Okay, here we go:

1. How many works do you have on A03?

13

2. What's your total A03 word count?

55,019 (I take so much time writing so few words)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Sandman, WIPS for Hellblazer, The Hour, The Expanse

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Putting Out Fire With Gasoline, Nocturnal emissions, and its sequel License my roving hands (which I WILL finish so help me god), Dream nonsense (my first awkward fic) Defiling the Sublime (my Honk Zone Magnum Opus)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always! It may take me a REALLY long time, or it may be in seconds. If you ask questions, or write long comments, you will get an essay back! ❤️

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I don't write whump, MCD, actually unrequited love, love triangles etc. That being said, I love writing angst when I have plans for a happy ending down the road. My angstiest fic would be Disintegration, which made me so sad that I ended it by hinting at a reconciliatory eldritch incubus visitation 🥰

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The fic that makes ME happiest is Blanket Permission (which I am forever grateful to @quillingwords , for breathing the Purrito into life through her artwork)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, that’s never happened, thankfully.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yes — the kinkier and more historically overcomplicated, the better. I’m particularly invested in relating the smut to history of sexuality and history in general, as well as folklore and mythology.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have two collaborative cross-overs that have been outlined but not yet written: Moulin Rouge AU with @academicblorbo , and Brideshead Revisited AU with @chaosheadspace and @quillingwords. I also have a Joanna Constantine/Death of the Endless WIP that will to some extent be a Sandman/Hellblazer crossover. Also, I really want to write a dreamling The Boat That Rocked smut fic!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. But Fern-Fevered was included in an anthology, which I will never get over

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have started two, but not yet completed them.

14. What's your all time favorite ship?
Freddie Lyon / Bel Rowley from The Hour. Will never get over them

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Straight up copying @reallyintoscience ‘s response here: I exist in a state of optimism where I fully believe I will finish the few Sandman WIPs I have going.

16. What are your writing strengths?
Weaponised bathos (trying to make the beautiful slip on banana peel)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing incredibly slowly, Overcomplicating/overdoing historical research. My latest WIP has a full-on bibliography…

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love peppering in words in other languages related to the plot, as easter eggs to come back to, but I always include translations at the end. I spent an inordinate time trying to translate BDSM terminology into Old Norse for Lullaby, which was frankly such a mad endeavour that it should be mentioned as an example of my writing weaknesses…

19. First fandom you wrote for?

In my head: The Hour. Published online: The Sandman.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Putting Out Fire (With Gasoline) — made infinitely better by @mathomhouse-e ‘s stunning artwork!

Tagging some lovely writers (tagging wildly here, as usual only do it if you have spoons for it):

@imnotcrying-ipromise @im-not-corrupted @hardly-an-escape @honeyteacakes @pellaaearien @karalynlovescake @so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site @tj-dragonblade @two-hands-toward-the-sun @secondjulia @cuubism @dsudis @delta-pavonis @academicblorbo @valeriianz @gabessquishytum @aeon-of-neon @edgedancer77

[notallsandmen]

I am crying and making this the background and screensaver of everything that I own. I love you CJ, thank you for this perfect gift

Blanket Permission

For @academicblorbo and @quillingwords ❤️

***

I knew I should have had him neutered in 1589, Hob thought blearily, having just been yanked from a very pleasant dream and unceremoniously deposited in a mudpuddle outside the Gates of Horn and Ivory. It was apparently monsoon season in the Dreaming again — no thunderclouds this time, but the kind of thick mist of rain that seeped into your bones.

Ah. Right. He should have suspected as much.

Hob hadn’t seen or heard from Morpheus in two weeks, which wasn’t unusual. There had been some kind of diplomatic incident surrounding Thor — who was apparently a) a real, existing god, and b) an absolute moron and a sex pest harrassing all pantheons. Somehow, the latter part made it slightly easier for Hob to not descend into complete existential panic about the whole “gods are real and vaguely beneath me” bombshell Morpheus had casually dropped on him, with the disinterested tone of someone commenting on a disappointing nephew. Every academic institution had their own seemingly unfireable sex pest, so this was at least something Hob could wrap his brain around. But now, the situation had escalated into some kind of divine, eons overdue #metoo movement, and Morpheus had been asked to mediate.

(This was honestly a little rich, given Morpheus’s somewhat checkered romantic past. But, after rescuing Calliope and releasing Nada from Hell, Morpheus was at least showing a willingness to make amends, and that was a step in the right direction.)

So, when his spouse went AWOL for a few weeks, Hob didn’t worry too much.

But Morpheus’s communication style still left a lot to be desired. One recurring and particularly annoying habit was Morpheus’s passive-aggressive tendency to pluck a sleeping Hob from his dreamscape and then drop him somewhere in the Dreaming, forcing Hob to come to him, as if this was some spontaneous lunch-time visit to deliver a coffee order and a snog. Don’t get him wrong — it was bloody adorable, and Hob would do it all the time if he could, but staging this elaborate dance every time instead of just asking him for some loving attention was honestly getting a little ridiculous.

Hob could smell Mervyn’s cigar smoke before he even saw him, giving him a jaunty wave.

“How’s it going?”

“He’s that way,” Mervyn grumbled in response, not even looking up from his moat-digging, nodding his head in the direction of the balcony next to Morpheus’s private chambers.

“Cheers, mate,” Hob said, before sauntering off to collect his sulking paramour in Sulk Zone 1.

But Hob wasn’t quite ready for the sight that met him; an aching tenderness swelling in his throat to the point that he was left a little breathless.

Oh dear. Hob should have known.

Because there on the balcony sat Morpheus, in his cat form. It wasn’t even his majestic ”King of Cats” form, but a scrawny little thing: fur flattened and soaked by the rain, crouching on top of his paws, his tail twitching anxiously, making clipped, pitiful noises that indicated that he was choking down a yowl.

It was heartbreaking, and just a little bit pathetic, and Hob was taken aback by how forcefully he needed to scoop Morpheus up and hold him.

Whenever he turned up at The New Inn or Hob’s flat like this, it usually meant that Morpheus was feeling a little overwhelmed. He would curl up in Hob’s lap, magnanimously allowing himself to be petted until his frantic, self-soothing purring quieted into that of cozy contentment.

However, Hob had never seen Morpheus in his cat form in the Dreaming, before. Maintaining authority, keeping up appearances, and all that — even if Morpheus’s mood swings was probably the poorest kept secret in the realm.

Hob crouched down, reaching out his hand to carefully stir Morpheus from his woe-is-me introspection.

“Hello, darling. Feeling tiny, this morning?”

The sheer force of the needy headbonk against his knuckles was all the answer he needed.

He gazed into the huge, icy-blue eyes: Morpheus’s cat form was pretty much his only non-weepy one, but he knew that the wide-eyed tension around the eyes was the feline equivalent of tear-swollen lids.

Soon, thankfully, something soft swept over his eyes, until Morpheus was slow-blinking affectionally back at Hob.

“There we are, sweetheart. There we are.”

Right. It might be a little bit demeaning, given that they were in the Dreaming — but Hob knew that none of Morpheus’s subjects would dare disturb them, until Morpheus was ready to be seen.

And desperate times called for desperate measures.

Hob closed his eyes, focusing his mind the way Morpheus had taught him. When he opened his eyes again, he was holding a dreamstuff facsimile of the fluffy Starry Sky blanket he had purchased from the giftshop after a Van Gogh exhibit, to be used for situations just like these.

Morpheus deflated somewhat, before giving him an obliging nod — a royal edict allowing Hob to tenderly wrap the blanket around him and lift him up, folding it until Morpheus was completely swaddled.

Purrito of the Endless, he thought, biting his lip so as not to show a treasonous smile.

Morpheus melted into his arms with a rumbling purr, kneading his paws into the cloudlike fabric, rubbing his cheek against the palm of Hob’s hand.

After a few seconds, he looked back up at Hob, tilting his head with a tentative, enquiring chirp.

Will you stay?

“Always, my love. I’ll always take care of you. Whatever you need.”