Dream of the Endless

Sleipnir looked at the business card, matte black and blank except for what looked like gas mask in a faint gloss across the length on one side. Two long, confusing numbers that made little to no sense to the untrained eye written in grey. But Sleipnir was no untrained eye.

He looked up at the building it had taken him to, having walked with Sasha by his heel. People were giving him a strange look. He didn’t belong here. That much was certain.

Can I be of assistance to you, sir?

Sleipnir looked down at the doorman, twisting the black card over as he began to think how the fuck he was going to explain this. But he didn’t need to say anything as the older man turned away, using a card to open the door.

“Hello there,” he murmured. He hesitantly reached out pet her head, still a little wary of those teeth. “May I see this?” Dream moved his hand from her head to the doll and slid it away from her. He held it in both hands, examining the doll.

“Is this yours? Mm? We can bring it back with us,” he offered as though she could answer his questions herself. It looked like a well-loved doll, and he wanted Sasha to be happy. Dream couldn’t say why he wanted Sasha to be happy, but he was growing fond of the service dog.

Sasha rose with the man, stretched her back and front legs softly, sticking by Dreams side when he wandered towards Sleipnir again. 

Sleipnir returned, frowning softly at Dreams words. He emerged, arms full of think but neatly packaged comic books covering most of his torso. He looked over his pile of papers, chuckling softly at what laid in Dreams hand. “Yeah…she’s always liked that.” Edith made it. He wanted to add. But it was uncalled for. And Dream didn’t need that kind of weight. 

"Why do you read those?" he asked, nodding to the comics in the box. "Are they not meant for children?"

Not that Dream had been allowed to read comics even as a child. Still, he was curious what the appeal was to Sleip.

He used the coffee table for leverage to stand up, still holding onto the doll. His jaw clenched against the pain as his body protested standing. "We can bring this with us since she likes it so much," he offered.

(aka Dream has a ho phase)

@hobertgadling

Dream hated breakups.

Even when they were necessary, they were still never easy. Especially not when it involved Corinthian.

It was their fifth breakup, and Dream was determined to not have a sixth. Instead, he decided to go back to university with Lucienne to get his first masters degree and her third. She held the opinion he needed to have the uni experience he'd missed the first time around. Namely, he needed to sleep around and party and do the things he'd missed out on when he had been with Corinthian during his first degree.

History seemed like an easy enough degree that he could have some fun without letting his grades slip. It hadn't even taken an entire class for Dream to set his sights on one particular professor: Robert Gadling.

"I uh..." He trailed off as he watched Dream's hand settle on his knee. He swallowed nervously and put his hand on top of the young man's, keeping it right there in its spot. He did not want that hand traveling further up his leg. Well, perhaps he did want that but he couldn't let it happen.

"No, not really. I've been having fun being your TA," he said, tipping his head to look up at him. "I like being around you."

As a child, Dream wanted to grow up to be a dancer and to teach others dance. He was relentless until he achieved that goal, and then focused all of his efforts on keeping what he'd finally gotten. It worked in his benefit that he'd gone to a university closely connected with a ballet company, and he'd earned glowing recommendations from his professors to become a professor himself.

He'd taught part-time while he earned his master's degree on top of being a soloist in the company, and he was relieved when he graduated and transitioned into teaching full time. Dream had been invited to help write curriculum for a course on the history of dance, and he was pleased when the university tapped him to teach it. Or rather, co-teach it.

He had only seen the other professor in passing, but he didn't quite see the point in a formal meeting until it was necessary. The professor arrived early to the classroom on the first day to set up. Dream pushed open the door, pausing when he caught sight of the brown-haired professor. He'd hoped for a few minutes to himself, but it would be a good idea to get acquainted before class.

Steam rose from the shower, and he reluctantly pulled from Hob's embrace to step under the hot water. He let the water run over his shoulders, and he tipped his head forward just slightly to keep his hair from getting wet. It did not need to be washed again, unlike the rest of him.

His cheeks flushed at the compliment and he rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed how pleased it made him. He slid his arms around Dream and pulled him to his chest, hands soothing up and down his back.

"The same could be said about you. I think the students knew I fancied you far before you did," he teased, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Dream's shoulder. The hot water hit his head and when he looked up again, his hair stuck to his forehead and he squinted against the water.

He didn't think he was ready for any kind of relationship again. Not yet. But he also didn't want to discuss it now and ruin the moment when Hob was hugging him so tenderly.

"If you'd like to, of course. I do not mind. It would be nice to have some company," he said.

He stepped out of the shower and shivered as he grabbed a towel for them both. He hurriedly dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. "Gotta go get my bag," he said, slipping out of the bathroom and down the hall to his duffel bag. He scooped it up and followed Dream into the bedroom.

He pulled on his clothing and sat next to Hob. "Do you enjoy running? You are welcome to join me tomorrow," he offered.

Dream inherited Endless nearly exactly a year ago from his mother, Night Endless. Not everyone was a fan of the direction he took the fashion company, and he was well aware of that.

Neither was his decision to promote Lucienne, but he needed someone competent in charge, especially when it came to hiring. He needed a second personal assistant, and he wouldn't trust anyone but Lucienne to find him a decent one. She hired a man named Robert Gadling, and apparently he held a masters degree. Dream hoped that would mean he was as intelligent as he would have to be to make it at Dream's company.

Dream came in early, as he often did. Lucienne was already there sitting at his desk, two coffees resting on top. She nudged one closer to Dream as he sat down, and she looked at him over her glasses. "The new personal assistant is arriving today," she said, flipping open her folder.

He brought the coffee to his lips and removed the lid to blow on it. "Please tell me they will talk less than Matthew," he muttered before taking a sip.

Lucienne let out a soft laugh as she checked her phone. "He was very polite in the interview. Security says he heading up now."

He was bubbly with nerves and a smile played on his lips as he entered Dream's office. The way his boss beckoned him shot anticipation and perhaps a bit of something else down his spine and his face flushed slightly. He approached Dream's desk and put the man's usual coffee order from the shop down the block next to his other coffee cup.

He took a sip of coffee as he considered Hob's question. "Modeling trends tend to be fleeting, and many things that were essential when I modeled are out of fashion now. However, there are some things that are simply good practice, such as finding the light."

Dream paused to glance at Hob to see if the phrase sparked any recognition. "It means you should find the main light source and angle your face towards it so your features are not cast in shadow," he explained.

Sir Robert Gadling was descended from a long line of soldiers and war heroes. His own parents were general's in the King's army and had served for years under the crown. And so it was his duty, and his honor, to do the same.

He had planned his whole life to follow in his parents' calculated footsteps, rising through the ranks until he, one day just as they did, assumed their positions as generals. He trained and fought and strategized and learned. But it was not his destiny.

Against his arguments and pleading, his parents sent him to work directly under the crown as the King's personal knight. He was told he should be grateful for such an esteemed position, so close to the throne. And perhaps, he would've been if he hadn't believed so whole-heartedly that he was destined for greatness on the battlefield.

And so now he found himself, silver armor polished and shined, kneeling before the young ruler, King Morpheus. King of Dreams, ruler of the Dreaming, and son of Time.

Hob kept his head bowed, staring down at the stone floor of the throne room, waiting until the order was given to stand.

"Perhaps, beloved. But for now, I will adore every moment I can spend with you. Every kiss, every laugh, every quickie in the bath." He chuckled and nudged Dream's foot with his own under the water. He leaned forward and kissed his husband on the forehead before pushing himself up and out of the bath.

He climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist. "I'm certain she does." Dream suppressed a sigh. It seemed there were always important things to discuss, and the list only grew longer.

Hob dressed for comfort over formality, thinking their breakfast would only be between them, close family, and Lucienne. Perhaps Matthew, if the courier wished to join. But when they arrived, the knight saw quite a few faces he had not seen in quite some time.

"Hob! Gaddo!" called multiple happy voices. Robert laughed and left Dream's side, running over to a group of his old military friends. They all hugged, some rubbing their knuckles on Hob's head as if he wasn't their commander nor the King's Consort. He hugged them all, one by one, recognizing them all by name, his heart full and his grin happy.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked. They all glanced in between each other, chuckling and giggling before one of them motioned to Matthew, who had been standing off to the side. Matthew produced a puppy from behind his back and brought her over. She was a grey little thing with dark amber eyes and a little wagging tail. Hob gasped and took her from the courier's arms, his eyes wide.

"For me?" His soldiers nodded, all grinning.

"Remember Quill? She had a litter and we just knew you'd love to have one of the pups. We haven't named her yet. Thought we'd leave that up to you," Dillan answered, a soldier Hob considered to be his right hand when they fought together. Robert put an arm around their shoulder and kissed them on the temple.

"Thank you all so much! I... I don't know what to say. She's so adorable." Hob lifted her up to his face and looked into her eyes. She yawned with a whine and he laughed in response. "Everyone, this is my husband. Dre- well, you all know who he is... Stay for breakfast?"

"We'd love to, Gaddo but... the borders..."

Robert sighed and nodded, tucking the puppy against his chest as he made his way through his friends, hugging them all one by one. "I understand. My husband and I are working to end this. I promise you we will end this."

He watched the interaction, eyebrows knitting together. They were all quite familiar with each other, far more familiar than they should be with a king's consort. But that was Hob's style, after all.

"A... a dog...?" he muttered under his breath. How had they sneaked a puppy into his castle? Dream gave Hob's friends a nod of acknowledgement when Hob introduced him, and he tried to keep the discomfort from his face.

Dream sat down next to Hob, leaning away from the dog. What did one even do with a puppy?

"You don't like her, do you?" he asked, his voice far too sad and far too pitiful. He nuzzled the puppy against his face and she licked his cheek. His pout vanished and he chuckled, scrunching his nose at her.

He placed his hand on Hob's shoulder and squeezed it firmly to get his full attention. He had no desire to compete with a dog for his husband's attention, especially not in front of the servants. "However, it is not allowed in our chambers, but it can reside in yours. Is that an acceptable compromise?"

It is safe to say that Corinth looked positively bored throughout the entire wedding ceremony. Only showing a vague interest in anything that was going on when he first laid his deep blue eyes on Dream.

And if the Lord was going to be honest, his raven haired betrothed is fucking gorgeous. In a pouty, miserable kind of way.

It will be fun to break him.

And yet, they had not been able to utter a single word to each other during the ceremony. Only in the eccentric aftermath, when they are sat side by side at the lavish wedding reception, is the blond haired Lord able to lean close to his husband and speak with him.

"What a load of bullshit, this is." He muses past the lip of his wine glass, casting a devilish side glance at his partner while he sips from his drink.

"You're inexperienced, darling. I want to show you what you've been missing out on first." He purrs.

Experience would come with time, surely. But Corinthian is clearly far more experienced. If nothing else, it's obvious from the confidence exuding from the blond and the way he possessively touches his husband.

He clears his throat. "What exactly have I been missing out on?" he asks, lifting his chin defiantly. Dream refuses to let Corinthian shake him. Or at least, shake him any further.

Dream's defiant tone has the Lord chuckle softly against his husband's throat. His lips pressing to ivory skin and slowly trailing gentle kisses along his collar.

"Don't be upset, darling." He murmurs softly as his hand finally slides over the curve of his thigh to gently press his palm into Dream's crotch.

Not yet.

He can feel his body responding to the touch, and he prays their coachman did not hear him exclaim.

This was not in his science books. Dream suddenly feels extremely out of his depth. "What... What does this have to do with consummation?" he asks, feeling like an idiot for needing to ask. But he does not understand why he needs Corinthian's lips and teeth on his neck.

It is safe to say that Corinth looked positively bored throughout the entire wedding ceremony. Only showing a vague interest in anything that was going on when he first laid his deep blue eyes on Dream.

And if the Lord was going to be honest, his raven haired betrothed is fucking gorgeous. In a pouty, miserable kind of way.

It will be fun to break him.

And yet, they had not been able to utter a single word to each other during the ceremony. Only in the eccentric aftermath, when they are sat side by side at the lavish wedding reception, is the blond haired Lord able to lean close to his husband and speak with him.

"What a load of bullshit, this is." He muses past the lip of his wine glass, casting a devilish side glance at his partner while he sips from his drink.

"You're inexperienced, darling. I want to show you what you've been missing out on first." He purrs.

Experience would come with time, surely. But Corinthian is clearly far more experienced. If nothing else, it's obvious from the confidence exuding from the blond and the way he possessively touches his husband.

He clears his throat. "What exactly have I been missing out on?" he asks, lifting his chin defiantly. Dream refuses to let Corinthian shake him. Or at least, shake him any further.

Sleipnir looked at the business card, matte black and blank except for what looked like gas mask in a faint gloss across the length on one side. Two long, confusing numbers that made little to no sense to the untrained eye written in grey. But Sleipnir was no untrained eye.

He looked up at the building it had taken him to, having walked with Sasha by his heel. People were giving him a strange look. He didn’t belong here. That much was certain.

Can I be of assistance to you, sir?

Sleipnir looked down at the doorman, twisting the black card over as he began to think how the fuck he was going to explain this. But he didn’t need to say anything as the older man turned away, using a card to open the door.

"Hello there," he murmured. He hesitantly reached out pet her head, still a little wary of those teeth. "May I see this?" Dream moved his hand from her head to the doll and slid it away from her. He held it in both hands, examining the doll.

"Is this yours? Mm? We can bring it back with us," he offered as though she could answer his questions herself. It looked like a well-loved doll, and he wanted Sasha to be happy. Dream couldn't say why he wanted Sasha to be happy, but he was growing fond of the service dog.

Robert Gadling loved churches. Specifically Catholic ones. He loved their architecture, the way they smelled of incense, and the music that flooded from their doors. He adored the guilt that slithered its way around the limestone halls and the heavenly sin that abounded. He was drawn to them even if they were harmful to him.

He had been a God-fearing Christian man once. Back when he had no choice but to be one. Before he'd been turned. But that was centuries ago and Hob had a strange relationship with religion now. He didn't pray to the God he used to even though he knew there must be something. If there wasn't, why would stepping inside one fell like getting hit by a car?

That was why he found himself lingering outside of the cathedral, watching the people leave from the midnight mass on Christmas Eve. They were all bundled up, chattering excitedly as they hurried to their cars. No one paid Hob any mind as they brushed past him. He was just another man, bundled in coat, standing outside of a church. He wished to step inside. To see how the building was decorated for Christmas. He caught glimpses of it as people flooded out, saw the nativity at the front of the church with the replica baby Jesus in his manger.

As the crowd dwindled and the pipe organ stopped, he stepped up to the doors but did not go inside. He placed his hand on the heavy oak door and peaked in, the flames from the candles reflecting off of his dark eyes. A couple more people pushed past him, telling him 'Happy Christmas' as they did. He smiled and nodded at them but did not wish it back. He did not celebrate Christmas anymore.

He wanted to cross the threshold, to bask in the golden light of the cathedral and to stare up at those wonderful stained glass windows. But he could not.

He quickly shut off the music and hurried to the door, wiping his hands on the rag that hung from his back pocket. He swung open the large front door and winced as the sunlight flooded into his home. He couldn't quite see him but he knew by smell alone that this was Dream.

"Come in, Father! Make yourself at home." He quickly shut the door once Dream was inside and blinked away the spots in his vision from the sunlight. His home, as he had warned the priest, was strange. It looked like the inside of a church, with vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, a choir loft, and an altar. All of the pews were gone and instead, there were pieces of art and historic artifacts on display. There were no normal windows. All light was diffused through the restored stained glass of the original church or from other churches that were torn down. The only thing Hob hadn't fixed was the altar. It was blackened from the fire and untouched besides the cleanup of debris. There was one place untouched by the effects of flame. On the wall was the silhouette of a crucifix, large and imposing.

"This is... this beautiful." It still looked more like a church than a home, which Dream found absolutely fascinating. He gazed up at the crucifix. "Is this the original? Did you restore it yourself?"

"Yes, that's original. I... I found the scorch marks far too beautiful to remove from the altar and the apse but the crucifix was too gorgeous to not restore. Although it was a bit of a painful process," he admitted. It had been logistically painful as well as physically.

"Built in the 1500s, desecrated in the early 1700s by some angry Protestants. Let's just say they weren't the best Christians." He sighed softly and leaned against one of the pillars. "Most of the stained glass is original. Some windows are from other churches and some panes have been replaced by a local stained glass artist. That's one trade I haven't mastered yet. Just know the basics for up-keeping."

Dream nodded eagerly. "I would love to see it. Please." Maybe it was a bad idea to see his room after their last discussion, but he really wanted to see the organ.

"I can play the organ, actually. I took lessons as a child. Mother thought it would be useful." He stopped himself and gave Hob a small, embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go on about myself."

(aka Dream has a ho phase)

@hobertgadling

Dream hated breakups.

Even when they were necessary, they were still never easy. Especially not when it involved Corinthian.

It was their fifth breakup, and Dream was determined to not have a sixth. Instead, he decided to go back to university with Lucienne to get his first masters degree and her third. She held the opinion he needed to have the uni experience he'd missed the first time around. Namely, he needed to sleep around and party and do the things he'd missed out on when he had been with Corinthian during his first degree.

History seemed like an easy enough degree that he could have some fun without letting his grades slip. It hadn't even taken an entire class for Dream to set his sights on one particular professor: Robert Gadling.

He could feel his hand getting closer to the bulge in Dream's pants and his fingers twitched. Wide eyed and uncertain, Hob stared at his student, gaze flicking between his eyes and his lips. He was not in the habit of lying. Even if he knew what he felt was wrong and it was even worse to act on it, he could not bring himself to lie.

He looked up into Dream's lust filled eyes and he felt his breath catch in his chest. It had been a very long time since someone had looked at him like that. Yearning pulled at his heart and he froze. His breathing quickened even more and he yanked his hand away. He pushed Dream off of his lap and scrambled to his feet, retreating to the window.

But if Hob was reacting so strongly, things were not going to go any further, and Dream would not try to persuade him any more. At least not yet. He gave him a little nod and got up to tug his boots on and leave.

He kept things mostly professional over the next few weeks, although he continued to drop hints that he was still interested. Just in case the professor changed his mind.

Hob groaned as he pushed himself out of bed and grabbed his robe, tying it loosely around his waist. He wasn't sure why someone was knocking on his door at this hour but he went to answer it anyway. He pulled his hair up as he padded to the door, a few strands falling back into his eyes as he did so. He opened the door and froze, seeing Dream leaning against the wall.

His eyes traveled up and down Hob, taking in the sight of him in a robe. "Sorry that it's so late. I was out with a friend, and I had to leave early cause I have class tomorrow. Um... Is it okay if I come in? I really don't think I'll be able to get home tonight..."

Hob caught him, bending at the knees so he could maneuver Dream so he could hold most of his weight. He slid his arm around the student's waist and closed the door with his free hand, flicking the lock.

"Come on. Let's get you to the couch," he muttered, walking slowly with Dream into his living room. He deposited the younger man there before stepping away. "I'll make some tea."

He went into the kitchen and put the kettle on before he leaned against the counter and sighed. At least it was the weekend and he didn't need to be up early tomorrow. He had a feeling this might be a long night if Dream didn't pass out soon. A couple minutes later, he came out with two mugs and some crackers on a plate. He set them down on the coffee table and sat down next to Dream.

The student let out a soft laugh in reply. "Maybe a little." He accepted the tea, resting it on the arm of the sofa before grabbing a cracker. Dream nibbled on it before shifting his head to lean it against Hob's shoulder.

"I'm sort of catching up on my uni experience. I didn't get it the first time around because I was so busy with my studies and my parents' expectations. This time around, I'm having a little bit of fun. Maybe a little too much fun, but..."

As a child, Dream wanted to grow up to be a dancer and to teach others dance. He was relentless until he achieved that goal, and then focused all of his efforts on keeping what he'd finally gotten. It worked in his benefit that he'd gone to a university closely connected with a ballet company, and he'd earned glowing recommendations from his professors to become a professor himself.

He'd taught part-time while he earned his master's degree on top of being a soloist in the company, and he was relieved when he graduated and transitioned into teaching full time. Dream had been invited to help write curriculum for a course on the history of dance, and he was pleased when the university tapped him to teach it. Or rather, co-teach it.

He had only seen the other professor in passing, but he didn't quite see the point in a formal meeting until it was necessary. The professor arrived early to the classroom on the first day to set up. Dream pushed open the door, pausing when he caught sight of the brown-haired professor. He'd hoped for a few minutes to himself, but it would be a good idea to get acquainted before class.

Steam rose from the shower, and he reluctantly pulled from Hob's embrace to step under the hot water. He let the water run over his shoulders, and he tipped his head forward just slightly to keep his hair from getting wet. It did not need to be washed again, unlike the rest of him.

His cheeks flushed at the compliment and he rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed how pleased it made him. He slid his arms around Dream and pulled him to his chest, hands soothing up and down his back.

"The same could be said about you. I think the students knew I fancied you far before you did," he teased, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Dream's shoulder. The hot water hit his head and when he looked up again, his hair stuck to his forehead and he squinted against the water.

He didn't think he was ready for any kind of relationship again. Not yet. But he also didn't want to discuss it now and ruin the moment when Hob was hugging him so tenderly.

"If you'd like to, of course. I do not mind. It would be nice to have some company," he said.

Dream inherited Endless nearly exactly a year ago from his mother, Night Endless. Not everyone was a fan of the direction he took the fashion company, and he was well aware of that.

Neither was his decision to promote Lucienne, but he needed someone competent in charge, especially when it came to hiring. He needed a second personal assistant, and he wouldn't trust anyone but Lucienne to find him a decent one. She hired a man named Robert Gadling, and apparently he held a masters degree. Dream hoped that would mean he was as intelligent as he would have to be to make it at Dream's company.

Dream came in early, as he often did. Lucienne was already there sitting at his desk, two coffees resting on top. She nudged one closer to Dream as he sat down, and she looked at him over her glasses. "The new personal assistant is arriving today," she said, flipping open her folder.

He brought the coffee to his lips and removed the lid to blow on it. "Please tell me they will talk less than Matthew," he muttered before taking a sip.

Lucienne let out a soft laugh as she checked her phone. "He was very polite in the interview. Security says he heading up now."

"Yes, sir. Of course. Thank you." He made to turn and leave but stopped. "Would you like anything? I'm caught up on emails and such. I can do whatever you need me to. Anything, really."

Dream rattled off the list without a glance up at Hob, and he flicked through his tablet in search of a particular photo he'd seen earlier His gaze lifted to the assistant for a moment.

He leaned forward and his eyes widened at the sight.

"The cover? I... I don't know if that's good enough to be on the cover." He looked good in the photo, all things considered, but certainly not cover worthy. "I mean, there must be real models you can use instead of the pictures of me."

Dream turned his tablet back around and pulled it towards himself once more. "In fact, I have decided to hire a far broader range of models than Endless has ever employed. My mother--the previous editor in chief--preferred the traditional model figure, but I know well the damage that can have on a person. I have also decided that Endless magazine will no longer retouch models. It is time for fashion to enter a new era."

He wanted to make his mark on the magazine and ensure it was distinct from his mother's reign. Dream also knew it was high time for the fashion world to change, though he was less enthusiastic about internalizing those new ideals.

I want you to model more frequently.... You will be the face of this...

Finally, once Hob regained himself, he nodded. "Alright. I will... I'll let you know this Sunday," he said. That gave him a couple days to talk to Eleanor about this. He didn't need her approval; he could make the decision on his own but Eleanor always served as his voice of reason. She would make sure he thought everything through without rushing into it.

He stepped away, his face still one of shock and turned to leave. He made it to the door before he hesitated. "I'll get all those things done. Um... you know where to find me if you need anything else," he said, giving Dream one more warm smile before slipping out of the door.

He stopped in front of Matthew's desk and stared at the other personal assistant. The man slowly raised his eyes from his computer and raised a brow. "Yes?"

"I'm... I'm gonna be a model," he whispered, still in shock about it. Matthew's jaw dropped and he stood quickly.

"No. Fucking. Way," he gasped, grabbing Robert's shoulders. "I could kiss you I'm so happy for you! I could also smack you because I'm jealous but still! We need to get dinner! Celebrate!" He grabbed Hob's face and pulled him down, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Hob laughed and shook his head.

"Well, I still need to talk to Eleanor about it but-"

"Oh, c'mon! She'll say yes, I'm sure of it. We're going out tonight after work." Hob smiled and nodded, resigning himself to Matthew's overabundant glee.

He gazed down at the cover, and he had to admit to himself that he was particularly proud of the photo of Robert. Hopefully the public would like it just as much. He heard footsteps, and he looked up to see his assistant arriving.

Sir Robert Gadling was descended from a long line of soldiers and war heroes. His own parents were general's in the King's army and had served for years under the crown. And so it was his duty, and his honor, to do the same.

He had planned his whole life to follow in his parents' calculated footsteps, rising through the ranks until he, one day just as they did, assumed their positions as generals. He trained and fought and strategized and learned. But it was not his destiny.

Against his arguments and pleading, his parents sent him to work directly under the crown as the King's personal knight. He was told he should be grateful for such an esteemed position, so close to the throne. And perhaps, he would've been if he hadn't believed so whole-heartedly that he was destined for greatness on the battlefield.

And so now he found himself, silver armor polished and shined, kneeling before the young ruler, King Morpheus. King of Dreams, ruler of the Dreaming, and son of Time.

Hob kept his head bowed, staring down at the stone floor of the throne room, waiting until the order was given to stand.

"Perhaps, beloved. But for now, I will adore every moment I can spend with you. Every kiss, every laugh, every quickie in the bath." He chuckled and nudged Dream's foot with his own under the water. He leaned forward and kissed his husband on the forehead before pushing himself up and out of the bath.

He climbed out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist. "I'm certain she does." Dream suppressed a sigh. It seemed there were always important things to discuss, and the list only grew longer.

Hob dressed for comfort over formality, thinking their breakfast would only be between them, close family, and Lucienne. Perhaps Matthew, if the courier wished to join. But when they arrived, the knight saw quite a few faces he had not seen in quite some time.

"Hob! Gaddo!" called multiple happy voices. Robert laughed and left Dream's side, running over to a group of his old military friends. They all hugged, some rubbing their knuckles on Hob's head as if he wasn't their commander nor the King's Consort. He hugged them all, one by one, recognizing them all by name, his heart full and his grin happy.

"What are you all doing here?" he asked. They all glanced in between each other, chuckling and giggling before one of them motioned to Matthew, who had been standing off to the side. Matthew produced a puppy from behind his back and brought her over. She was a grey little thing with dark amber eyes and a little wagging tail. Hob gasped and took her from the courier's arms, his eyes wide.

"For me?" His soldiers nodded, all grinning.

"Remember Quill? She had a litter and we just knew you'd love to have one of the pups. We haven't named her yet. Thought we'd leave that up to you," Dillan answered, a soldier Hob considered to be his right hand when they fought together. Robert put an arm around their shoulder and kissed them on the temple.

"Thank you all so much! I... I don't know what to say. She's so adorable." Hob lifted her up to his face and looked into her eyes. She yawned with a whine and he laughed in response. "Everyone, this is my husband. Dre- well, you all know who he is... Stay for breakfast?"

"We'd love to, Gaddo but... the borders..."

Robert sighed and nodded, tucking the puppy against his chest as he made his way through his friends, hugging them all one by one. "I understand. My husband and I are working to end this. I promise you we will end this."

He watched the interaction, eyebrows knitting together. They were all quite familiar with each other, far more familiar than they should be with a king's consort. But that was Hob's style, after all.

"A... a dog...?" he muttered under his breath. How had they sneaked a puppy into his castle? Dream gave Hob's friends a nod of acknowledgement when Hob introduced him, and he tried to keep the discomfort from his face.

Dream sat down next to Hob, leaning away from the dog. What did one even do with a puppy?

idontkillorphans​:

idontkillorphans​:

@drcamofthecndless

Sleipnir looked at the business card, matte black and blank except for what looked like gas mask in a faint gloss across the length on one side. Two long, confusing numbers that made little to no sense to the untrained eye written in grey. But Sleipnir was no untrained eye.

He looked up at the building it had taken him to, having walked with Sasha by his heel. People were giving him a strange look. He didn’t belong here. That much was certain.

Can I be of assistance to you, sir?

Sleipnir looked down at the doorman, twisting the black card over as he began to think how the fuck he was going to explain this. But he didn’t need to say anything as the older man turned away, using a card to open the door.

Enjoy your stay, Mr Winthers.

Were. That either meant divorced or dead. Judging by the tender way Sleip adjusted the picture frame and the tenseness of his posture, Dream felt it was fairly safe to assume Edith had passed. Or he still had feelings post-divorce.

"She was beautiful."

If Sleip agreed in the present tense, then she was still alive. If not... Dream knew he'd be glad he didn't press further if that was the case. And there would be no point in apologizing for the loss. Empty sentiments did not seem to be either of their types.

He took another sip of coffee and turned to watch Sleip pack, filing the name away for later. Lucienne could do some digging into it, and it would be easier than asking himself.

Robert Gadling loved churches. Specifically Catholic ones. He loved their architecture, the way they smelled of incense, and the music that flooded from their doors. He adored the guilt that slithered its way around the limestone halls and the heavenly sin that abounded. He was drawn to them even if they were harmful to him.

He had been a God-fearing Christian man once. Back when he had no choice but to be one. Before he'd been turned. But that was centuries ago and Hob had a strange relationship with religion now. He didn't pray to the God he used to even though he knew there must be something. If there wasn't, why would stepping inside one fell like getting hit by a car?

That was why he found himself lingering outside of the cathedral, watching the people leave from the midnight mass on Christmas Eve. They were all bundled up, chattering excitedly as they hurried to their cars. No one paid Hob any mind as they brushed past him. He was just another man, bundled in coat, standing outside of a church. He wished to step inside. To see how the building was decorated for Christmas. He caught glimpses of it as people flooded out, saw the nativity at the front of the church with the replica baby Jesus in his manger.

As the crowd dwindled and the pipe organ stopped, he stepped up to the doors but did not go inside. He placed his hand on the heavy oak door and peaked in, the flames from the candles reflecting off of his dark eyes. A couple more people pushed past him, telling him 'Happy Christmas' as they did. He smiled and nodded at them but did not wish it back. He did not celebrate Christmas anymore.

He wanted to cross the threshold, to bask in the golden light of the cathedral and to stare up at those wonderful stained glass windows. But he could not.

He quickly shut off the music and hurried to the door, wiping his hands on the rag that hung from his back pocket. He swung open the large front door and winced as the sunlight flooded into his home. He couldn't quite see him but he knew by smell alone that this was Dream.

"Come in, Father! Make yourself at home." He quickly shut the door once Dream was inside and blinked away the spots in his vision from the sunlight. His home, as he had warned the priest, was strange. It looked like the inside of a church, with vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows, a choir loft, and an altar. All of the pews were gone and instead, there were pieces of art and historic artifacts on display. There were no normal windows. All light was diffused through the restored stained glass of the original church or from other churches that were torn down. The only thing Hob hadn't fixed was the altar. It was blackened from the fire and untouched besides the cleanup of debris. There was one place untouched by the effects of flame. On the wall was the silhouette of a crucifix, large and imposing.

"This is... this beautiful." It still looked more like a church than a home, which Dream found absolutely fascinating. He gazed up at the crucifix. "Is this the original? Did you restore it yourself?"