Dreamling

by ranchdiip

“An Endless?” Hob asks, softly, because it feels like a question that needs to be soft.“That’s what we are,” Death responds, trying again for a small smile. “Me and D—”“Don’t,” Hob interrupts, far stronger than he meant to, and Death looks surprised for as long as it takes him to get out, “Don’t, pl

by arahir

Morpheus’s expression melts into unreadability. “Would you have come to my rescue again, Hob Gadling?”“Yes. God, yes, I would have. Of course, I would have."Hob learns where his friend has been, and even Dream of the Endless might, on rare occasion, need a hand.ART BY EV | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | ch

by Magnolia35

Hob has to do a double take because Dream is crying; big, ugly, hiccuping sobs that wrack his skeletal frame to the point where Dream looks like a leaf in the wind. The raven that’d been following the man the last time they met— Mike or Martin or Matthew or something— pecks at the guys shoes.  The s

by tiltingheartand

“Oh shit,” he says, eyes wide. And then, “oh fuck,” as he’s scooting backwards as quick as he can, “sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,” because what else can you say when you realize, oh, that’s not just a version of your friend that your brain conjured up, that’s your actual friend, the anthropomorphic perso

by TinyButFierce

It was beginning to sound like Roderick Burgess had something or someone trapped in his basement.Hob was starting to wonder if he should do something about that.

by sherwoodfox

Over the centuries, Hob had dreamt plenty of dreams about his friend from the tavern. All good dreams, of course.Very good dreams.Usually not dreams that featured either of them wearing very much clothing.But until the talking bird told him otherwise, he hadn't considered that those dreams might be

by astrhae

“You know what kept me going, century after century?” Hob is angry enough, desperate enough, that his voice drops low, quiet. “Even when I had nothing?”The music around them crests, waves crashing against the unyielding shores of time –“Chimneys,” Morpheus answers, bland.Oh, what a bastard.---------

by Picture_Yourself

A detailed examination on just what exactly would happen if Dream figured out he actually cared about Hob half a millennium earlier and Hob was a bit more successful in keeping his "friend's" attention. Aka they fuck by 1889.| fanart of chapter 6 | fanart inspired by this fic |

by Nekromika

It came sudden. His friends head snapped around, fanthomless eyes staring directly at him. One pale hand reached out and took hold of his arm, fingers as long as spider-legs which dug themselves painfully into his flesh.“Find me.”Hob awoke with sweat sticking to his brow, breath caugh in his lungs,

by ScribeofArda

The anthropomorphic personification of dreaming is sitting on his sofa, staring at a sequin cushion in his lap.His day could be weirder, but Hob isn't quite sure how.

by issylra

"He does not wish your friendship, Hob Gadling. He wishes to bed you.""He—" Hob cuts himself off, head tilting slightly like the new information needs just a second to process. Dream wonders when he began to find this kind of confusion more endearing than a test of his patience. In which Dream begi

by ElloPoppet

It’s the right day, but the year is all wrong, and Dream suspects that there’s something else not quite right even before he finds himself standing in front of the shuttered remains of the White Horse Tavern. Still, he’s chilled in a way he’s not accustomed to feeling, reminiscent of the hopeless, f

by mayanpaw

Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too… intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily similar to his fr

by SrirachaBunny

Finding out that your professor is a human, with ties and an actual life beyond the classroom is always a little jarring for students.For the university students in Professor Hob Gadling's history class? It's practically life changing.Now, if only they could figure out who this mystery man is.

by Chrome

In the aftermath of her imprisonment, Calliope is determined to learn to trust humans again, so she finds a roommate and settles in the mortal world. Meanwhile, her former husband has been on another quest that ended in grief, and he seeks her out for solace.What could possibly go wrong?or, “Hey, Z

by Nekromika

Dream and Hob finally have their meeting in the New Inn. "The New Inn?" Dream asked, averting his gaze. "It is yours?""Well, yeah." Hob cleared his throat. "Couldn't bring it over my heart to see the old one be torn down, so I...built a new one.""You," Dream began, their arms brushing between their

by Chrome

“Yes,” he says. “But—humans, do you have it where you are hungry, and you only remain hungry so long, and then you stop being hungry?” His blue eyes meet Hob’s brown ones, and it feels as though they hold a memory between them of Hob at the old inn, wolfing down food. Do you know how hungry you can

by Moorishflower

The New Inn is as close to a church as Hob can build, a monument to stories, a tribute to dreams. He has a baseball bat, 600 years of fighting experience, and an anthropomorphic representation of dreaming to impress.In other words, no neonazis allowed.

by cup_of_lethe

During their first meeting in the twenty-first century, Dream finally reveals his identity to his old friend.

by Nekromika

“I couldn’t really help but pop by. And I do have to say, it is so good to finally meet you.” They drawled, lifting a hand adorned with sharp red nails and placing it gently on his arm. “Uhm...” Hob mumbled intelligently. “Excuse me, but who are you?”“Me?" Red lips streched impossibly wider. "You ma