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Vesania

@beauty-of-nyx

Her/She Sy/rup, ParadoxInsanity on ao3

Dreamling Bingo 2023 Masterlist

Thank you so much to the @dreamlingbingo team for doing all the crazy work for this event!

Lil guide: ao3 is full works, usually minimum 1k words. Tumblr links are snippets or drabbles (one double drabble), two art fills that are [tagged], one nsfw fill thats also [tagged] that I greatly apologise for.

B4 - Crossover (2+ Sources): https://archiveofourown.org/works/44758519

I've noticed that some fans within the Sandman are laboring under the mistaken conclusion that Dream doesn't understand certain aspects of human culture, and that this is somehow a shortcoming that he not only has but comes into conflict with. This is mistaken on two counts.

1. Humans aren't the only intelligent species across the universe. There are thousands, stretching from the birth of the first star to death of the last, and his purview is over all of them. He is THE Dream of the Endless, embodiment of all that is not and will never be, and has rather a lot of cultures to be keeping track of considering the number that exist even within one species. So there's a lot to sort through in that facsimile of a noggin any time a character refers to some charming aspect of life, but he sorts through it with such promptness and ease (because that's his job) that we forget he's sorting through anything at all. Now, we can go into the blurry mechanics of aspects/facets/manifestations of a greater whole and how those exist separately yet as one being, but while it's an interesting path to stroll at a different time, that's not what we're here to do.

2. I touched on it before, but Dream does know this stuff somewhere in the vast web of minds that he consists of. Sometimes he acts like he doesn't for his own sanity (so to speak), sometimes for the sake of the individual trying to relate things to him, and sometimes because it's more Dramatic. He knows culture and etiquette and invention, he utilizes this knowledge to be the most politest little gentleman but he also uses it to be a cunt. If there is something he's said that's in poor taste, consider what is going on from Dream's perspective. Is he mad? Is he scared? Is he feeling petty? The answer is probably yes to one of these. When he's upset, he is extraordinarily insensitive because most of his energy goes to not committing horrifying atrocities barely conscienable by the waking mind seeing as how he is a cunt. When he's scared he puffs himself up and acts a cunt. When he's feeling petty he is, you guessed it, intentionally being a cunt. If he doesn't seem to know a certain taboo, he either doesn't care enough to, or does and is intentionally breaking it.

FINALLY!! Sometimes he does know and doesn't grasp for... reasons unclear. For example: he knows about chimneys, but doesn't grasp their significance. Or when people use colloquial phrases and he takes it as literally as possible. He understands humans, just not the experience.

TL;DR—Dream knows what everyone is talking about. He just doesn't care or is being intentionally obtuse when he doesn't seem to, for the most part, and when not applicable he still knows and just doesn't fully grasp it. He is very smart insomuch that intelligence can be measured among endless, he's just also very naive and petty.

So I'm reading through the Sandman comics, and I just got through "Three Septembers and a January" and it is just... SO interesting in terms of the Endless family dynamics.

(This is going to be so disorganized and rambly I just have a lot of feelings I loved this story okay)

Like, yeah okay I'm a Dream apologist, but seriously. Despair calls Dream (not in her gallery and without his sigil- very informal and borderline against the rules- and he still comes!) and challenges him to a game over a mortal's life. Dream is like "No, I don't play your games, I'm a goddamn professional" and Despair shoots back like "WOW you think you're soooo much better than us, not fucking around with people's lives, it's 100% your fault Destruction left" and Dream is like "...fine, hold my beer."

So that alone I'm like. Yeah dude. I get it. And if that's the shit he's been dealing with for all of existence? Yeah I'd be annoyed with my siblings too.

Another part I'm super interested in is seeing when Death shows up and when she doesn't (to be fair, we're following Dream, so it's possible we just don't see certain interactions).

At the very beginning of the challenge, Death shows up to like. Scold Dream for going along with it? She even says "I thought you were an adult" and like. Okay, sure, you think Dream shouldn't be doing this but are you going to talk to Despair and Desire about this? I love Death but a lot of times she gives me the vibe of an adult telling you "Just ignore them they're just doing it to get a reaction" instead of telling the other person to stop antagonizing you, y'know?

At one point Despair says "What's there to understand? He's mortal. He's nothing." And Dream immediately disagrees, and like. That feels like PRIME Death lecture area. Despair doesn't value mortals! The people they serve! Death if you can scold Dream for feeling lost and disconnected from humanity after being tortured for 100 years you can scold Despair for looking down on humans for seemingly no reason.

Desire eventually shows up to try to sway the guy they're following into giving into his desires, but he turns them down. And Desire is SO pissed like "what the FUCK this guy should be mine!!" and Dream's just like "¯\_(:/)_/¯" and then as he leaves is like "Tbh disappointed in you Desire, you weren't very subtle" which to me felt like an "I expected better from you" and, expectedly, Desire gets MORE pissed and as they leave, to themself are like "Oh he wants subtle? I'm gonna make him spill family blood and bring the Kindly Ones down on him!!" Which. To me. Feels like just a bit of an overreaction.

Seriously THAT'S why you want to kill him?? Because he insulted you during a challenge that he didn't even want to be a part of but got provoked into? That's your motivation? Holy shit.

Dream's done some fucked up shit, no lie, but when it comes to the family side of things? Honestly #TeamDream all the way, just leave the poor boy alone, Jesus Christ.

I've encountered a strangely large number of stories online of single men who decide to test the theory that married men are inherently more desirable to women by buying a fake wedding ring and wearing it. They usually report that this works miraculously, women are far friendlier and more approachable, which is immediately interpreted as flirting. The conclusion they draw from the data is that women are inherently cruel, selfish and greedy, because clearly they don't want the man unless they think they're stealing from some other woman.

I wonder how many of these women in these experiments actually just thought they don't need to be wary about this man mistaking friendliness for flirting, since clearly he's not looking to date as he's already making someone else miserable.

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I got halfway through the first paragraph above and thought of course women are nicer to men they think are married, the’re not worried about being hit on

God forbid these men just talk to women before they go off doing “research”.

im bi but when im around younger women and they seem to be stiff and cold with me i just mention being gay and they’re immediately very relieved. like yeah no i get that we’re the only two people at the quilt guild meeting under 50. but do not for an instant think i came here to pick up chicks. im raiding the free fabric table like beatrix potter squirrel.

i mean i would like a girlfriend, probably, but what i really want from a woman is sixty years of experience and a big box of free fabric she needs to put in someone else’s basement.

"What's the matter?" Dream asked when Hob laughed suddenly. "Hm? Nothing, love. Just thinking what we'd say in vows if we had a christian wedding. Since Death won't exactly do us part." "I see. She wouldn't - she believes you're too good for me to take you." "What would you say, darling?" "I would say that I will love you until the last page of Destiny's book. Until stories stop being told. Until the last dreamer stops visiting my realm. Until the universe fuses back into a single mass." Dream breathed, "I love you, Hob Gadling. I will love you forevermore."
"Shit! They're onto us. Come on!" Hob pulled Dream along, slipping into another room as a stampede of hired security stormed down the hall. "We're going to be made out. This is not good, Dream." "We're not going to be made out." Dream snapped, rucking up his shirt and messing up his hair even more. "How much would you like to bet they are significantly discomforted by queer presence?" Realisation dawned, and Hob smirked. "Aren't you a clever little cookie." And then pushed Dream against the wall, kissing him as deeply as he possibly could. Without missing a beat, Dream wrapped a long leg around Hob's waist, groaning into his mouth when Hob yanked it even higher, leaving him even more spread out and exposed. "You taste like- like honey. And mint." "Do you like it?" Dream purred, and then gasped as Hob ground his hips against him. "Please-" The door burst open, and then immediately slammed shut, with the suit grunting in disgust. Hob laughed, running a hand down Dream's hitched leg, and kissing him again. Until Dream pushed him off. "We can make it to the safe before they return. Then reach the second building by roof." "Seriously?"
Dream hissed as Hob yanked at his harness, "It's fine, Gadling. You need not - ow! - truss me up like a mark." "Trust me, I wouldn’t ‘truss up a mark’ like this.” Hob clipped a carabiner into his begrudging partner’s harness, and supported him through the opened skylight. “Simple wrists tied to headboard tie. Maybe legs apart.” Dream spluttered. He didn’t need to know all this about his colleague. Who was maybe very sexy, dressed in all black. “If it was you, I’d tie you up in a way you couldn’t fucking move.” Maybe he did need to know all this.
"I must say," Hob said, pulling Dream against him even more, "1389 me did not expect that the pretty Lordling would become my very own hot-pocket." Dream grumbled, wrapping his warmed arms around Hob, "Your heating broke. Would you prefer I let you simply freeze? Insolent human." "Don't complain, you're enjoying this almost as much as me." Hob pulled the blankets over Dream as well, his graciously generated warmth enough to finally warm Hob's bones. Dream didn't bother to answer, snuggling in as Hob embraced him, and closing his eyes to rest with his lover for the very first time.
Dream of the Endless adored The New Inn. It was a symbol of devotion. Of faith.
Of love.
Hob had even used some gravel and bricks from the White Horse in the construction of the new building. Combined with his intent, the New Inn felt like a place of power, where his essence was much stronger than the rest of the Waking. Dream enjoyed the warmth of his friend in the place of connection and new beginnings, in the comfort of being wrapped in his own power with a degree of separation he could never gain in the Dreaming.
He made it a point to visit the Inn at least twice a week, and Hob welcomed him every time. Even when the human had nothing to say (rare), or was too busy with marking papers to say (much more frequent, now that the term had started), they could sit in a companionable silence, often with Dream resting his head in Hob’s lap, and he could confirm Hob's hospitality was miles better than that of a certain secret society.
Arrogant, prideful, and positively stinking of old money and connections, Dream of the Endless perfectly embodied the type of dancer Hob hated with all his heart.
The worst part?
He was good enough to justify the arrogance.
Trained since the minute he could stand, Dream was graceful, strong, and had developed a style that was so uniquely his that even one performing the exact same choreography couldn’t hope to even compare.
He had already been at the studio for hours before Hob signed in, soft music playing as he worked at the barre. Hob had tried to go say hi, but a loose floorboard had him stumbling and bumping into Dream.
“Kindly attempt to manage your own body.” Dream snapped as he picked himself up, before Hob gathered his wits enough to apologise, let alone offer a hand.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself.” Hob smiled sheepishly. “Since we’re going to be working together and all.”
“Perhaps reconsider your method of introduction, going forward.” Dream moved away from Hob, crossing his arms. He clutched the shoulder Hob had bumped, but Hob knew he hadn’t pushed so hard that he was injured.
Unless he already had a preexisting injury. In that case… Shit.
"Hey Gadling! Your session is over. Pack your filthy pucks and clear out." Dream called out as he laced up his skates. "Gadling?" The aforementioned hockey player was pressed against the boards, clutching at his stick and gasping for air. "Hob!" Dream jumped the board - the first time in two decades - And sped over, foregoing a proper stop in favour of skidding on his knees. Closer, it was obvious that Hob was firmly in the throes of a panic attack, and it was all Dream could do to pull him into his embrace. "Breathe with me, Hob. I have you."
Desire of the Endless enjoyed knocking their older brother down a peg or two, and gloating when he was down doubly so. They visit some time into Dream's imprisonment, when his desire for freedom reaches a crescendo. Their brother doesn't seem to notice them, hunched over in a position that screams hopelessness, and Desire moves to ask why he never called for help. Then they notice. The sigil has a silencing rune. And Desire finally realises just how badly the fucked up. Desire needs to get him out. Thankfully, there's a man who desires nothing more than seeing Dream again.

I dunno if this has been posted yet, but.....

Keep this shit off AO3

We don't want that kind of pearl clutching 'christian' conservative sitting on the AO3 board. Keep Moms For Liberty out of our fanfiction.

this is the second fucking year in a row someone has tried to pull this crap. but if you're still on the fence about it (though fair warning, I am not copying everything she wrote as a response, which you can read on the OTW website):

Would you be in favor of creating a Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion committee? Why or why not? I see no reason creating another committee would help anything in light of the continued staffing issues, and see several ways it could hurt. Lumping nonwhite, and non-English-speaking, and non-American volunteers together in one committee is just tokenism with a bow on top. Those experiences are not singular or universal. The DEI consultant to be hired by the organization will be able to speak to this far better than I can. The cost of becoming a member/voting in elections is prohibitive for many users, particularly disabled, international and POC ones. Do you have any ideas about how this could be improved to make the otw more inclusive and less privileged? No.

Also, just for some proof of the "Republican" part, from Twitter:

like, it's not a pejorative, it's how she's self-identified

also, ENTIRELY unrelated to this crap, but she's only been a volunteer for about a year and a lot of her answers to questions about ongoing problems is "I don't know because I've only been here a year." she doesn't even know what PAC is.

Hob startled awake a few hours later, to the sound of gasping breaths. Dream was sitting up, curled up against the headboard. He had his face hidden in his knees as he desperately tried to be quiet, reluctant to disturb Hob.
He was going to slip out of the room soon. “Dream, you’re okay. It’s June 1st, 2019, you’re safe, you’re with Hob Gadling. Can you repeat that for me?”
Dream shook his head once, jerky and anxious, and his trembling became worse.
Hob blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes, and pulled himself closer. He wrapped his calloused hand around Dream’s dainty ankle, but Dream flinched at the initial contact. Hob winced internally, but chose not to pull it away. Somehow, he had the sense that supporting Dream’s bad ankle would help ground him.
“You’re alright, Dream. Breathe with me?” He counted out loud — four to inhale, seven to hold, and eight to exhale. He tapped out the beats with his thumb, and slowly but surely, Dream’s breathing calmed.
“Calm down, Dream. It’s okay. Slowly, yes… good job. You’re doing well. You’re doing so well.”