Nopillows



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    Hob takes in a breath for patience. “Fine. What’s the P-L-O-T device, and how did it get us from ancient cthulhu to—” He waggles his fingers over Dream, who is still sucking contentedly on his blanket. “—calamari?”

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    02 May 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 27

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    Hob is not entirely surprised by Dream's appearances while he sleeps, these days. He's never going to make the mistake of taking the luxury for granted, but it has stopped feeling so entirely foreign, the presence of another living creature in his flat, usually lurking around like an oversized crow waiting for Hob to wake up.

    This morning, however, Hob senses something troubling outside of the general eerie that Dream supplies to the every day. The flat is usually silent even when occupied by Dream. He seems to move without stirring the air, like the human plain of existence isn't entirely sure what the rules are. Even when he handles things like cups, spoons, the sound is muffled - nearly delayed. But this is different. The change in the atoms is palpable even to Hob's rudimentary senses. He gets out of bed hurriedly, smelling ozone and char. Distress.

    "Dream?" He asks. There is no answer, but an awareness in the quiet that does it for him. Progressing into the living room, Hob stalls when he catches sight of Dream. His breath leaves his ribs as if knocked out by the buck of a stallion. "Oh shit-"

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    28 Apr 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    When Hob Gadling needs a plus-one for a colleague's wedding, he does what any reasonable six-hundred-year-old immortal would do: he asks the anthropomorphic personification of dreams to pretend to be his boyfriend.

    What could go wrong?

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    22 Mar 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 4

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    Hob had been watching Morpheus Endless for a long time now. And he was going to approach him tonight, after the ball.

    This was a dangerous dance, he knew that well. Expose his secret to the wrong person - utter ruin, his good name forever tarnished. Imprisonment was a possibility. Death, if he was really unfortunate. But if Morpheus turned out to be the right person to receive such secret... The reward was impossibly high, outweighing the risk in Hob’s foolish mind.

    Because he wanted Morpheus. Even if it was wrong. Even if it killed him.

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    15 Feb 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “I bought you quite more than your drink, in 1689,” Dream countered, the turn of his lips and pinched brow suggesting he hadn't yet decided whether to be offended.

    “And I’ll never forget it,” softer, real, Hob promises, until overtaken by a shit-eating grin. “Which sufficiently made up for the time before that when I barely got three words in before you walked out on me altogether to go make a decent playwright out of Will fucking Shaxberd.”

    And there was the preening, subtle though it was. An elegant eyebrow twitched upward as at some amusement. “You would fashion me in your debt, Hob Gadling?”

    “Nah. I’d see you Tuesday.”

    A beat passed filled with genuine consideration, enough to make Hob’s heart leap, his weight shifting forward in his seat. “Tuesday, then.”

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    30 Jan 2026