tochka
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Dream of the Endless does not have a secondary gender. He is not human, has never been human, and has no intention of starting now. This is a fact he has been comfortable with for the entirety of his billions of years of existence.
It is also, as of today, no longer true.
This is Hob Gadling's fault. Dream is almost certain of it.
Bookmarked by tochka
14 Jun 2026
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“You were loud,” he says, whispering the words through his teeth. “Sloppy.”
“And you let me do it,” Hob shoots back, dipping his chin, mouth almost a caress over Dream’s. The scent of him, of them, sparks like wildfire, and Hob wants to dig his teeth into it. “Didn’t stop me. Didn’t say a word. Just held my hair and took it.”
Dream’s breath catches. It’s quick, but Hob sees it.
“I think you liked coming apart in my hands,” Hob says, voice edged with challenge. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Dream’s eyes flash with something too bright and too furious, a beautiful crack in that perfect, cold face of his.
(Or: The horrible ordeal of falling for the one person who always manages to get under your skin.)
Bookmarked by tochka
13 Jun 2026
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It’s 1959, and Hob Gadling is working at a London auction house, amazing his colleagues with his uncanny knowledge of art and artifacts from the 14th century on. When he gets the assignment to catalogue a family library at a place called Fawney Rig, he looks forward to a working vacation in the country. What he finds is a house with a preternatural chill where odd disturbances happen daily, an ornate carved door with a secret clearly hidden behind it, and visions of his mysterious stranger every time he turns around.
Bookmarked by tochka
21 May 2026
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"Does it bother you? The—" Hob gestured vaguely towards the front door, encompassing Max and, by extension, the entire catalogue of bodies that had preceded him through it. "All of them. Does it bother you?"
Yes, Dream thought, with a force and immediacy that startled him. Yes, it bothers me. Every face, every mark on every throat, every time I arrive to find the space around you already occupied by someone whose presence I must accommodate before I can have you to myself—
"No," he said. "Why would it?"
Bookmarked by tochka
10 May 2026
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Summary
Dream is given a second chance. Terrified by loneliness and drowning in humanity, he goes to find the only fixed point he has ever known. Hob Gadling.
Dream found himself explaining everything, the words tumbling out of him in a halting confession. The Kindly Ones, the choice to end or change. His siblings’ intervention.
“They… found a compromise. This form, it is mortal-adjacent. I must eat, sleep and breathe. I feel the cold. I grow weary.” He looked down at his own hands, pale against the dark fabric of his trousers. “I am, in all ways that matter now, very much like you, Hob Gadling. My body will not age. It cannot die. Unless I choose to accept my sister’s gift. I am… suspended. Between what I was and what men are.”
Bookmarked by tochka
18 Apr 2026