i've seen a lot of different ideas in fics where morpheus has innate knowledge of when hob is dreaming about him, or where he can always see the dreams, or where he's automatically summoned to dreams about himself, etc
but i think i prefer the idea of some poor long-suffering low-level schmuck of a dream who's been forced to take on the appearance of morpheus over and over again for the last 600 years because apparently that's what this particular human wants to dream about (and fuck humans don't typically live this long do they?) and they're too aggrieved and mortified to ever think of telling their literal king about it
Good Omens and the Forbidden book, chap 1
Prologue
Chap 2
Mother Earth: And to you, Human, I shall give you great Endurance and a thick skin, remarkable mimicry and visual tracking skills, strong inner bones which heal back even stronger when broken, an omnivorous diet with acute palates and resistance to most poisons, a pack organization, skin-stealing skills and the ability to throw things with ease and accuracy using your upper limbs, so you shall reign the hot savannahs and deserts as the greatest pursuit predator ever. Also as primates you shall not be bound to mating seasons and with your strong self-healing instincts and great adaptability, you shall rise and be numerous as ever.
Human: Mkay but what's that nice little red fruit outta there
Mother Earth: ... That's a pepper. Do not eat it, as it contains capsaicin, and you're still a mammal. This is a fruit for the birds.
Human: But it look tasty
Mother Earth: I mean, unless you want to be curling yourself down on utter pain, you should not...
Human: *already biting it* tast y
Mother Earth: HUMAN PLEASE STOP--
Human: *already crying, curling themself up down and shedding tears of pain*
Mother Earth: I told you. Stay away from that fruit
Human: *takes another bite despite the pain*
Mother Earth: What the everloving Big Bang, HUMAN PLEASE STOP IT'S TO YOUR OWN GOOD
Human: *crying* T A S T YYYY
Mother Earth: *concerned motherworld noises*
The leprechaun and the golfer
A golfer playing in Ireland hooked his drive into the woods. Looking for his ball, he found a little Leprechaun flat on his back, a big bump on his head and the golfer’s ball beside him.
Horrified, the golfer got his water bottle from the cart and poured it over the little guy, reviving him.
‘Arrgh! What happened?’ the Leprechaun asked.
'I’m afraid I hit you with my golf ball,’ the golfer says.
'Oh, I see. Well, ye got me fair and square. Ye get three wishes, so whaddya want?’
'Thank God, you’re all right!’ the golfer answers in relief. 'I don’t want anything, I’m just glad you’re OK, and I apologize.’
And the golfer walks off.
'What a nice guy,’ the Leprechaun says to himself.
I have to do something for him. I’ll give him the three things I would want… a great golf game, all the money he ever needs, and a fantastic sex life.’
A year goes by and the golfer is back. On the same hole, he again hits a bad drive into the woods and the Leprechaun is there waiting for him.
'Twas me that made ye hit the ball here, ’ the little guy says. 'I just want to ask ye, how’s yer golf game?’
'My game is fantastic!’ the golfer answers. 'I’m an internationally famous golfer now.’ He adds, 'By the way, it’s good to see you’re all right.’
'Oh, I’m fine now, thank ye. I did that fer yer golf game, you know. And tell me, how’s yer money situation?’
'Why, it’s just wonderful!’ the golfer says cheerfully. 'When I need cash, I just reach in my pocket and pull out $100 bills I didn’t even know were there!’
'I did that fer ye also.’ And tell me, how’s yer sex life?’
The golfer blushes, turns his head away in embarrassment, and says shyly, 'It’s OK.’
'C'mon, c'mon now,’ urged the Leprechaun, 'I’m wanting to know if I did a good job. How many times a week?’
Blushing even more, the golfer looks around then whispers, 'Once, sometimes twice a week.’
'What??’ responds the Leprechaun in shock. 'That’s all? Only once or twice a week?’
'Well,’ says the golfer, 'I figure that’s not bad for a Catholic priest in a small parish.’
It's almost that time of year fellas
Expressive Snake Portraits by Ben Simon Rehn Capture Serpentine Elegance in Brilliant Hues
Hydra Agent: I lured you all to my lair because I crave the deadliest game-
Bucky: [nodding] Knife monopoly
Sam:
Sharon:
Hydra Agent: I was actually going to hunt you all for sport, but now I’m interested in whatever knife monopoly is.
au where eberytjings the same but they have to go to five guyd
“What do you do in your free time!”
”oh uh-“
(Not mine just found it)
au where eberytjings the same but they have to go to five guyd