#now the issue is more deciding which movie to start with lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seiya-starsniper · 4 months ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where...

…Hob is a little insecure about his body in comparison to Dream. Dream is wondering why his love only wants to have sex in the dark…

I need some hurt/comfort 🥹

Oh man friend, I started writing this thinking it wouldn't be super long and then 9.7k words later...😅

Still gonna post the whole thing on tumblr since this IS a tumblr prompt, but it's probably best read on AO3 for length reasons lmao. I hope you enjoy this angst train!

AO3 Link: Cruel Summer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - America, Developing Relationship, Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, body image issues

Also tagging @dreamlingbingo as I'm using this fill for my free space!

-----------------

The first time it happens, Dream doesn't think too much about it. There's not a lot of thinking going on period, not really. Dream's only focused on the touch and taste and feel of Hob Gadling’s body against his as they drunkenly make out against the latter’s front door.

They’d been out tonight celebrating with their friends, all of them having finally achieved some hard earned life goal. Matthew and Jessamy were engaged, and planning a marriage out on Cape Cod the following summer, Lucienne had gotten promoted as an archivist at Harvard, Mervyn had finally launched his own cybersecurity firm, and Dream had just signed a publishing deal for the novel he’d been working on for the past two years. His editing team was even based out of Boston, even if their main headquarters was in New York, which made Dream’s life much easier.

Hob…well. Hob’s celebration was more muted than the rest. He’d just landed a job at Harvard as well, working as a professor, so he and Lucienne were now technically coworkers. And while it was a fantastic opportunity with decent pay, and mostly free summers, it had come at the cost of his relationship with Eleanor, his longtime girlfriend.

Eleanor had accepted a job across the country working as a marketing lead for a lifestyle clothing brand based out of Seattle. She’d wanted the position more than anything, but Hob hadn’t wanted to move, so they broke up. Hob insists it was all amicable, and that he’d miss everyone too much if he’d actually left, but they all knew Hob had been thinking about proposing.

Dream knows all this, and yet, when it had just been the two of the left at the bar and Hob had started openly flirting with him alone, instead of just playfully flirting with every single one of their friends, Dream had decided, “why not”, and matched the other man’s energy until they were suddenly making out just outside the bar while they waited for the Uber Hob called for them. It’s still the beginning of summer and not terribly hot outside, but Dream’s still grateful for the cool AC of the car that eventually comes to get them to drive the short distance back to Hob’s apartment.

When Hob finally unlocks the door and they practically fall into the front hall, Dream messily kicks off his shoes and works his way towards undoing Hob’s belt in between kisses. Hob wrangles them down the hall and towards his bedroom and Dream thinks vaguely about turning on the lights when they finally cross the threshold. But then Hob pushes him down into the mattress and Dream stops thinking about anything at all.

-----------------

The second time that it happens, a little over a month later, Dream is helping Hob clean up his apartment after their monthly movie night with their friends. They had all decided on rewatching Jurassic Park after Mervyn and Lucienne had gotten into a debate on whether or not dinosaurs looked stupid with or without feathers. But it had taken the group some time for them to even start the movie, since they had mostly gotten wrapped up with different bits of work and life gossip. It was rare that they were all able to get together like this, so the movie was a secondary concern for them.

During the movie, however, Matthew and Jessamy’s wedding planner called them about something that needed their attention immediately, and though they said it was fine to keep the movie running, they’d paused it anyways. Not even ten minutes after they wrapped up their call, Mervyn had to take a work call from a client suffering from some server issues.

Needless to say, it was nearly midnight by the time they finished the movie, and since only Dream and Hob had nothing to do the next morning, Dream had offered to stay late to help clean up and then crash on Hob’s couch for the night.

That is, at least, the story they tell their friends. The dishes and the food end up abandoned as Hob pushes Dream into the couch cushions and palms his cock through his black jeans. Dream moans and ruts beneath the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling Hob in for a desperate, filthy kiss. They make out like teenagers for what seems like hours, the taste of buttery popcorn and overly sweet margarita mix mingled in every kiss. Dream isn’t nearly as drunk as he was that first night, but he’s got a pleasant buzz going, which really only adds to the whole illicit nature of what they’re doing. Neither of them had mentioned the first time they’d fucked to any of their friends, they’d barely talked about just between the two of them, really.

Dream had figured maybe they could talk about it tonight after everyone had gone home but well. He’d gotten distracted with Hob’s mouth.

When they finally move from the couch to the bedroom, Dream turns the lights on, but then Hob turns them right back off as Dream’s getting undressed.

“Are you one of those people who prefers to have sex in the dark?” Dream asks, laughing as Hob crawls on top of him, shedding his shirt and underwear along the way.

“Mmmm,” Hob says, putting his mouth on Dream’s neck instead of answering the question. Dream gasps as the other man bites down on that one sensitive spot just below his ear. “Don’t wanna get up later to turn them off.”

Dream hums, and that’s the end of that conversation as his mind floats away to far more interesting pursuits.

-----------------

The third time almost feels like a date. Almost. They don’t exactly plan to get together, just the two of them, it just sort of happens because Matthew had gotten sick, and Jessamy hadn’t wanted to leave him alone to fend for himself. She also wasn’t entirely sure if she was contagious herself and wanted to be safe. Mervyn was on call for a client this weekend so he wasn’t going out with them anyways, and Lucienne had decided she’d rather stay at home and catch up on some of her backlogged work rather than attend the Oktoberfest event they’d all bought tickets to.

Hob had texted Dream individually and suggested they go out anyway, just the two of them, and Dream’s heart had stuttered in his chest when he’d read the message. Hob had suggested a new restaurant that had opened up near his apartment, and while it wasn’t necessarily a first date sort of place, it was still a bit nicer than any of the places they’d go with their friends for just drinks or a quick bite to eat.

Dream agonizes for over an hour on what he should wear, before he ultimately defaults to what feels most natural to him, black jeans and a solid black polo instead of his usual band t-shirt, which he then pairs with a charcoal gray blazer, just to look a little nicer. But not too nice, just in case this isn’t a date.

Hob, much to Dream’s disappointment, is in his regular outfit of a graphic tee and sweats when Dream arrives. He’s not terribly out of place in the restaurant, but he’s clearly not dressed to impress. He eyes Dream very appreciatively though, and doesn’t comment on why Dream’s a little more dressed up than usual. What he does do, however, is spend the evening whispering into Dream’s ear about how he’d like to peel that blazer off Dream and make him wear it while they fuck.

They only make it through a single round of drinks before they leave, with Hob leaving their server behind a more than generous tip for wrapping up their bill so quickly.

Hob wastes no time divesting Dream of his blazer and tossing it down the hallway towards the bedroom before turning his attention back to kissing Dream senseless. He sinks to his knees and Dream moans as the other man then works at peeling his jeans off so he can blow Dream right in the front hall, up against the front door where anyone can walk by and hear. It makes everything that much hotter.

Later, when all Dream is left wearing is his blazer and nothing else, Hob gets up from where they’re kissing on the bed to turn off the lights and Dream frowns.

“You can just leave the lights on,” Dream says, before he coyly spreads his legs and shows off his best seductive pose to tempt Hob back to bed. Hob stares, transfixed at Dream’s posturing, before he huffs and then clicks off the lights anyways. Dream groans in annoyance and Hob laughs before he kisses Dream again.

“Sorry, just easier with the lights off,” Hob says, not sounding sorry at all. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

But Dream does worry. He doesn’t in the moment, but he does later, when they’re lying beside each other, Hob snoring away while Dream thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how Hob always wants the lights off, and how he never cuddles with Dream after sex. He thinks about how they really only ever get together when it's convenient, but they've never made plans on their own, at least, not since Hob and Eleanor have broken up.

Dream realizes, with a growing dread, that maybe Hob still isn't over Eleanor, that maybe all there is between them is sex, and nothing else. It makes an awful sort of sense; in the dark, Dream can't tell if Hob’s thinking about someone else, hoping for someone that's not Dream. Eleanor and Dream couldn't be anymore different but that hardly matters to a man with a broken heart. A warm body is a warm body after all, and Dream's the only other single person in their friend group.

If Hob's a little bit confused as to why Dream is a bit short with him in the morning he doesn't show it. Somehow that makes the pit in Dream's stomach worse.

-----------------

The fourth time—there isn’t a fourth time because Dream fucks it all up.

Dream had met with his publisher earlier in the day, and the meeting had gone rather…poorly. His editor had straight up told him that he’d needed to make significant changes to the book, and Dream had argued until he was hoarse but to no avail. He’d then been told to go home and sleep on things, effectively being dismissed like a petulant child who’d thrown a tantrum in public.

Dream knew he had a good story. He also knew that some of the suggested changes were good ones, while others would fundamentally change the story he was trying to tell. But still, the sheer amount of changes had overwhelmed him, and Dream had lost his temper. He already knows, with a growing dread, that he’ll have to make some apologies the next day.

He’s about to go home, but Dream decides instead he’d like to get as drunk as humanly possible to wash the bitter taste of the day from his mind. He texts the group chat, and since it’s a Friday night, they all respond with enthusiasm to blow off some steam for the weekend. Everyone except for Hob, who says he’s not feeling like socializing tonight, but he’s sorry Dream had such a shitty day.

Dream tries not to be disappointed that Hob won’t show up. He wonders if he’d just invited Hob by himself, instead of texting their group, would he have come out, just for Dream? But they don’t do things like that, even with how long they’ve been friends. Before they started sleeping together, Hob and Dream had always just sort of existed together in the same circle of friends. Dream had actually met Eleanor first, and Hob only when they started dating. Dream has never spent any amount of alone time with Hob before now, and he still doesn’t know what sort of relationship they even have, if any at all.

Dream’s worries leave his mind when the others show up. Mervyn stays for only one round of drinks, and Matthew and Jessamy only two before they head out for the evening. They have an early appointment with the planner the next day to do some cake tastings. Lucienne stays the longest, though she really only nurses the same glass of wine the entire night. She talks Dream through his frustrations with his editors, and his overall story. She’s been with him every step of the way to getting this publishing deal, and Dream hasn’t told her yet, but she’s going to be the front page of his acknowledgements.

He’s so tempted to unload on her about Hob as well, but before he can gather the courage to broach the subject, she gets a text from someone and blushes furiously when she reads it. Dream pokes and prods until she admits she’s started seeing someone. Johanna. She’s not sure if it’s serious yet but well. They’re definitely physically compatible, and while she won’t show Dream her phone, he already knows she’s been sent something particularly provocative. So Dream lets her go, and then debates between ordering another drink or going home.

He does neither of those things, and instead pulls out his phone and texts Hob, outside their group chat. The alcohol has more than loosened Dream’s inhibitions and right now, he’s lonely and horny. Lucienne’s reserved but still elated expression as she had happily explained Johanna had made Dream miss Hob. So he texts the other man and tells him he’d like to come over.

Hob’s response isn’t what he’s hoping for: are you drunk?

Dream frowns at his phone and then his initial message: aree tou busy?? Can i comeocer?

Okay, maybe he was a little more drunk than he realized. He asks Hob if it matters, being careful this time to make sure he types everything out carefully, and then closes out his tab while he waits for a response. Nothing comes. Dream’s annoyed and disappointed, but not surprised, so he starts to make his way to the train platform to head home.

While he’s waiting, he finally gets a response back from Hob: okay. come over.

Dream changes platforms immediately and heads in the direction of Hob’s apartment.

When he arrives, Hob pushes a glass of water towards him, which Dream drinks down greedily. When he’s done, he joins Hob on the couch and crawls into his lap to kiss him, but Hob pushes him away after only a few moments. Dream lets out an annoyed noise when Hob does it again.

“Dream, not tonight,” Hob says, pushing him away when Dream tries to kiss him again.

“What do you mean?” Dream asks, now confused.

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Hob replies, before he pushes Dream off of him and back onto the couch, going back to watching whatever crime drama he’d had on before Dream arrived.

Dream stares, open mouthed and hurt, as Hob decidedly ignores him for Netflix. He gets up angrily and stomps around the kitchen, tearing open the cabinets looking for something to eat, and also more water because now he has a pounding headache as his body struggles to sober up now that he’s no longer drinking.

“Dream!” Hob exclaims, getting up when Dream slams more than one cabinet door closed. “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” Dream sneers, stuffing a potato chip into his mouth angrily. “I came all this way just to fuck you, didn’t I?”

“You’re drunk,” Hob points out.

“I’m always drunk when we have sex,” Dream argues, crossing his arms, chip bag still in hand. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Yeah well, I’m not drunk now, and I’m also not in the mood,” Hob replies angrily.

“Then why the hell did you invite me over?” Dream growls.

“I don’t know!” Hob exclaims, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” he adds, then gestures to Dream. “How was I supposed to know you’d be like this?”

Dream huffs, then carelessly tosses the bag of chips onto the counter. A few stray chips scatter across the counter, but Dream doesn’t care. Clearly Hob didn’t want him around, not for sex, and definitely not to comfort Dream after the awful day he’d had, so there was no point in staying.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Dream says, moving towards the door where he’d kicked off his shoes. He decides he’ll check the train times on the walk over.

“Dream,” Hob says, grabbing his arm before he can make it to the hallway. “It’s late. Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

“I can get home on my own just fine,” Dream argues, raising his chin defiantly.

“No,” Hob replies, his voice stern as he grips Dream’s arm tighter. “Come on, let’s just go to bed. You need to sleep this off.”

“I can sleep on the couch,” Dream says, yanking his arm out of Hob’s grip. “Since you’re not interested in fucking my bad day out of me.”

“Dream, stop being so fucking difficult!” Hob yells, shocking both of them.

The echo of Hob’s roar hangs tensely between them, and Hob steps back from Dream with a hand over his mouth, clearly horrified at what he’s done. Dream also feels the prick of tears in his eyes as he processes just how angry Hob actually has been with him all night.

How the hell had this night gotten worse? Dream doesn’t know, but what he does know is that he needs to leave before he starts drunkenly crying in Hob’s apartment, and Hob is the last person Dream wants to see him like this.

Dream tries making his way towards the door again, but Hob seems to regain his senses and physically blocks him. Dream tries to push him, then tries to hit Hob’s shoulder to make him move, but Hob grabs Dream’s wrist to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” Hob says, his voice much softer this time, laced with regret and pity. Dream hates it. “I lost my temper, I shouldn’t have done that,” he adds.

“Fuck off!” Dream yells, and oh. No. No, no, no, no. Dream furiously blinks back the tears before they can start falling, even if he can’t stop the pained hiccups that betray his emotional state from leaving his mouth.

“Just—” Dream gasps, then forces himself to breathe, slow and deep, and then counts to five. “Let me go home. You don’t—” his breath hitches again, cutting off what he wants to say. Fuck. He couldn’t even string together a full sentence if he tried.

“Dream, please,” Hob replies, his voice practically begging now. “Don’t leave. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” Dream turns to meet Hob eyes, and his anger dissipates slightly when he sees how devastated Hob looks.

Despite how awful Dream feels, even he knows it’d be a mistake to go home in his current state. He’s highly emotional, drunk, and likely wouldn’t be paying attention to his surroundings. He could get mugged, or worse.

“Fine,” Dream finally relents. Hob lets out a sigh of relief, and hugs him. Dream doesn’t hug him back. He’s still angry after all.

But Dream lets Hob wrangle him down the hall to the bedroom, and then he strips down to his underwear to sleep, since he doesn’t have any of his own clothes here. And why would he? It’s not like they’re anything other than an occasional hookup after all.

Hob does offer Dream a shirt and pajama pants to wear, but Dream tosses them away from him without so much as a second glance. Hob sighs at Dream, and then shuts off the lights, turning away from Dream without another word to sleep. He’s clearly still frustrated with Dream too.

Dream lies there next to Hob, feeling cold and rejected and lonely. He hates everything about this. Hates that Hob let him come over and make a fool out of himself when he could have easily just told Dream to fuck off and go home instead. Hates that Hob even came onto him in the first place, all those months ago, and now they’re here, in this weird in-between state where they're together but not together.

Dream realizes too late that he really hadn’t cared if they had sex or not either. He’d wanted comfort more than anything, comfort from Hob specifically. But the only comfort he knew that came from Hob was sex. And that’s the worst part of it. Dream knows now, without a doubt, that he has feelings for Hob. That he wants more out of this than what they’re doing now, but he’s not sure Hob does. At this point, he’s too afraid to ask.

Hob’s bedroom suddenly feels like a suffocating prison as all of Dream’s feelings hit him at once. He’s going to cry again if he stays, and he really doesn’t want Hob to see him like this. He doesn’t want Hob to know just how badly he’s gotten under Dream’s skin.

Dream realizes he needs to leave. He’s stone cold sober now, having laid here in the dark with nothing but his thoughts and his third glass of water now emptied on the bedside table. He listens carefully for the evening out of Hob’s breath, then shuffles around in bed to see if any of his movements disturb the other man. When he’s certain that Hob is deep in sleep, Dream hurriedly dresses himself, checks to see that there’s still trains running this late at night, and then rushes out when he sees the next one is in just 15 minutes. Hob lives about 12 minutes from the nearest station. Dream can make it if he runs.

The front door slams loudly behind him as he leaves, but Dream doesn’t care. Hob probably won’t even notice that he’s gone.

Dream makes it to the station just as the train is pulling into the stop. As he’s getting on, he hears yelling and frantic running, the sounds of someone about to miss the train. Dream considers holding the doors until he sees just who's rushing towards the train.

It's Hob. Hob who is barely dressed, and running down the steps to the train platform in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. He catches Dream's eyes and waves frantically to get his attention. Dream’s heart flutters momentarily, and he imagines that maybe he was wrong about everything after all. That maybe there’s more to what’s been happening between them than just rebound sex.

Dream gets on the train anyways, and the doors shut just as Hob reaches the platform, and the train pulls away.

-----------------

They pretend like nothing is wrong after that night. Hob had texted Dream the next morning to ask if he’d gotten home okay, and Dream had left him on read. He had far more important things to worry about that morning, like his pounding headache and the fact that he needed to talk to his editor at some point.

When he finally fights off the last of his hangover, Dream has a much more pleasant conversation with his editing team, who he apologizes to for losing his temper. His team apologizes to him as well, which he doesn’t expect, but they reassure him it’s their job to encourage him, not discourage him from writing. They have a candid conversation about communication, and then agree on a plan to move forward with his book.

Dream happily shares the good news with his group chat, still ignoring the direct message from Hob. He credits Lucienne for talking him off the ledge the night before, and the flood of positive and congratulatory messages flows easily after that. Even from Hob.

Dream sighs when he reads the other man’s message in their group chat, then flips back to their private conversation. He really should apologize for his behavior as well, but he has no idea how to explain himself without revealing more than he’s comfortable with. So Dream turns off his phone, and goes back to working on his novel, hoping that maybe he’ll come up with something to say later in the evening.

He never does end up replying. Hob doesn’t privately message him either after that.

-----------------

It’s trivia night at the White Horse, and Dream would normally be excited to go and show off his arcane knowledge, but tonight he’s dreading the occasion. It’s been a month since he and Hob had last seen each other and he really has no idea how he’s supposed to act around the other man. Do they pretend like nothing ever happened between them? They haven’t spoken since, so things were clearly over between them.

Dream’s still trying to tell himself it’s better this way. They were hurtling towards disaster, and Dream should’ve really known better, should’ve known that he really can’t do casual after all, and now he’s probably permanently fucked up his friendship with Hob because he couldn’t keep his own feelings in check. He still hasn’t apologized, he doesn’t know if Hob even wants an apology from him at this point, or if he just wants to forget about everything that ever happened between them.

So when Dream’s sister texts him and tells him she’s in town for a few days, Dream jumps at the opportunity to meet her and cancel on trivia night plans. He receives a variety of boos and ‘we’ll lose without you!’ responses, all of which make him smile despite himself. Even Hob laments the loss of Dream’s knowledge for the evening.

When Dream arrives at The New Inn later that night, it’s not only his sister that greets him. Eleanor is with her. Dream hasn’t seen her since she and Hob broke up. When she’d moved across the country, she left the group chat and hasn’t really talked to anyone since. Dream had missed her, if he were being honest with himself. Even though Hob had said the breakup was amicable, and that Eleanor had only left the chat because she couldn’t be part of their plans any longer, Dream was still sad to see her go. He realizes he could’ve tried harder to keep in touch with her, but then everything with Hob had happened and well.

Dream wants to hug Eleanor and also scream at her. Wants to unload what a horrible last month he’s had, and also wants her to never find out he’d been sleeping with her ex. It’s not her fault that Dream fell into bed with Hob knowing he wasn’t over his relationship with her yet. It’s entirely her fault for being so perfect, however, that there’s no way Dream could ever compare, and that’s why Hob won’t look at him when they have sex.

When they had sex. Dream and Hob have barely spoken since that night, and only in their group chat. He’s pretty sure Hob doesn’t want to even be in the same room as Dream right now, for how ugly Dream had acted over what was supposed to be just a casual hookup.

“Not that I’m unhappy to see you, Ellie,” Dream says, giving both her and his sister a hug before taking a seat across from them. “But what are you doing back in town?”

“Dream—” Didi starts, but then Eleanor places a hand on her shoulder and stops her.

“We’re dating,” Eleanor says bluntly, moving her hand from Didi’s shoulder down to her hand. Their fingers interlace and Dream’s eyes boggle as he looks between them, shocked.

“When did this happen?” he asks, settling himself in for what must be an extremely interesting story.

Eleanor and Didi take turns recalling the story of how they met through a local meetup for knitters in Seattle, and how Didi had recognized Eleanor from one time she’d come out drinking with Dream and his friends years ago. Happy to have a familiar face, Didi and Eleanor had become fast friends, and they both realized they had a lot in common too.

Before either of them knew it, Eleanor was inviting Didi out everywhere as they explored their new city together, and Didi became accustomed to calling Eleanor after every shift at the hospital. One thing led to another, and then another, and now they’re practically attached at the hip. Didi even shyly admits they’ve talked about moving in together.

The two of them beam at him when they’re done with their story and Dream wants to congratulate them. Wants to be happy that his favorite sister is dating one of his oldest friends. He wants to make plans to visit them in their new home, maybe even help them move if he can work out the logistics. He hasn’t been out to Seattle in some time, and he really could use a vacation.

“I started sleeping with Hob after you left,” is what Dream says instead.

Eleanor spits her (thankfully white) wine all over Didi, who freezes in place, staring at Dream in shock. Dream stares back, horrified both at what he just said, and what followed after. He braces himself, expecting Eleanor to explode on him, to call him a slut, a bad friend, a terrible human being.

Instead, Eleanor starts laughing. Didi does too eventually.

“Oh my god, of course he did,” Eleanor wheezes as she doubles over in her seat. Their server rushes over, bringing some extra napkins and Didi excuses herself to the restroom to wipe off the rest of the wine. Dream and Eleanor are left staring at one another in silence, before Eleanor breaks the tension with another giggle.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I’m not laughing at you, really, just the whole situation. Imagine if you brought Hob with you tonight?” she practically squeals.

“I—you’re not mad?” Dream asks, more shocked than anything. Eleanor just shrugs and drinks from her water glass this time, instead of her wine.

“I mean, did Hob at least wait a day before he tried to make a move on you?” Eleanor asks. “Not that it matters really, we were broken up before I left but well, you know. Respectful turnaround time and all that.”

“I—” Dream stutters, trying desperately to recall when that first time with Hob actually happened. “I mean, I think it was a few weeks after you left?”

Eleanor snorts. “Good enough, I guess.”

“Sorry,” Dream says, shaking his head as Didi returns and sits back down next to Eleanor. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this. Did you know he wanted to—?”

“Oh no, no,” Eleanor says then starts laughing again. “Our breakup wasn’t planned or anything, don’t worry. It’s just that, well. He told me he wanted to stay with you guys more than me, so I’m not that surprised?”

“What?” Dream says, dumbly. “But you both said the breakup was mutual.” Eleanor sighs.

“I mean,” she replies. “It was technically mutual. But Hob wanted to stay in Boston, and I didn’t. And one of our last arguments before I left was about abandoning our friends.” She shrugs again. “I love you all, don’t get me wrong, but I really love living out in Seattle more. Especially the company.” She smiles at Didi, who kisses her on the cheek. “It kind of sucked that Hob really didn’t want to move, but it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to do it all just for me and my career goals.”

“Oh,” Dream says dumbly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Dream wouldn’t have wanted to leave Boston for any reason either, so it makes sense, he thinks. Boston is just that. It’s home.

“It’ll make double dating a little weird, though,” Eleanor adds, and Didi laughs.

“I think we’ll be fine though,” Didi adds, then turns her focus to Dream. “So tell us about you and Hob,” she says.

“I—we’re not,” Dream stammers, unsure of how to proceed further with the conversation. Eleanor and Didi’s expressions both fall.

“Oh, Dream,” Didi says, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” Dream says though he feels anything but. “I don’t—it didn’t last long between us,” he admits.

“Wow, he fumbled the bag on you?” Eleanor interjects, shock clearly painted on her face. “My god, he really is an idiot.”

“No I—we had a fight,” Dream says, unsure of why he feels the need to clarify. “It was my fault really. I shouldn’t have—he wasn’t ready to commit.”

Eleanor makes a confused face.

“That—doesn’t sound like Hob,” Eleanor says after a moment, and Dream huffs in annoyance.

“You only knew him while you were dating, how would you know that?” Dream retorts.

“Because he told me he’s never done casual,” Eleanor replies. “When we first started seeing each other, he basically said just that. That’s what I liked about him, he wanted to do the whole commitment thing right away, even if it didn’t end up working out.”

“Well maybe he’s changed,” Dream says, far more grumpily than he intended. “He’s never said shit to me about anything, and still hasn’t, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Dream,” Didi says gently, squeezing his hand. “Are you okay?”

“It’s fine,” Dream insists, not wanting to go into the details of how he’d terribly fucked up his situation with Hob.

“You don’t sound fine at all,” Didi replies.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have this conversation at dinner though?” Eleanor interjects, looking concernedly at him. Dream huffs and then pouts. Eleanor was always hyper attuned to when people were upset, especially Dream.

But Dream does want to talk about it, even if it is a bit awkward, all things considered. Eleanor seems to at least be willing to hear Dream out, if nothing else.

They wrap up their bill quickly, taking some of their dinner to go, and find their way over to Dream’s apartment, where he spends the rest of the night wrapped up in a blanket while he recounts the past six months to his sister and Eleanor. There’s also, perhaps, a lot of wine involved. Solely because Eleanor had decided it was also girls night and they needed a lot of wine for a proper one.

“I’m going to murder him myself,” Eleanor says, holding up her bottle of wine when Dream finishes telling her everything that had happened up until now.

“El, no,” Dream whines. He’s really more embarrassed about the whole situation now than anything. Talking things over with the two of them had really helped, and Dream wonders if he should’ve talked to Lucienne, or even Jessamy and Matthew to start. Maybe he wouldn’t have let things go so far the way they did between him and Hob.

“Nah, he deserves it,” Eleanor replies, taking another swig from her bottle.

“It’s really my fault,” Dream tries to insist, knowing it’s useless to defend Hob to his own ex. “I knew he wasn’t over you and I—”

“No, Dream, listen to me,” Eleanor says, taking Dream’s face in her hands. “He never—” she turns away from him suddenly and then burps. Dream laughs, despite himself.

“He never what?” Dream asks when Eleanor turns back to face him. She sighs.

“He never told you why he turns off the lights, and that’s on him,” Eleanor tells him.

“I—what?” Dream says dumbly. Hob turned off the lights with Eleanor too?

“Yeah, he—” Eleanor hiccups and then starts giggling. She releases Dream’s face and then falls back onto Didi, who’s sitting behind her on the couch. “He’s sensitive, you know? About—” she gestures at her front, “All the hair he has. Hates it when people see it. I think we had sex with the lights on like, twice, at most.” She pauses and then regards Dream, her expression sombering. “I thought you knew.”

“Why would I know that?” Dream asks, dumfounded. Hob had never given any indicator that he was sensitive about any part of his body, and no one in their friend group had ever commented on it.

“Because,” Eleanor replies, gesturing wildly. “Think about it. Whenever we went to the beach or anything together, did you ever see him take his shirt off? Or at the pool at Matthew and Jessamy’s place?”

“I—” Dream filters through his memory, which is an especially difficult task considering how drunk they are. He realizes that Eleanor’s right.

“Shit.” Dream groans. “I think I fucked up.”

“No, no, he did,” Eleanor insists. “I always told him I didn’t mind all the hair,” she adds then sighs. “I mean it’s a lot, but it never bothered me, you know?”

“It’s never bothered me either,” Dream admits. He’d rather liked the differences in their bodies actually. Hob was broad where Dream was lanky, naturally tan and sunkissed where Dream was pale. Dream had never had an opinion on chest hair before, what little hair he’d had it was so fine and thin that his chest looked bare anyways. But Eleanor was right. Dream had never really seen Hob casually uncovered. And while he was always eager to undress Dream when the lights were still on, Hob almost never fully undressed himself until after he’d shut them off.

It seems so obvious now, in retrospect. But Dream had been caught up in his own insecurities to really notice that Hob had any of his own to address.

“I honestly thought he didn’t want to look at me when he turned off the lights,” Dream confesses. “That maybe he was hoping he could pretend I was someone else in the dark.”

“Okay, I’m with my girlfriend,” Didi says suddenly, a murderous look in her eyes. “I’m a doctor, I can make it look like an accident,” she adds, holding up her weird hand mixed cocktail that has hot sauce in it.

“Didi!” Dream exclaims. “No murder,” he orders, then laughs at the absurdity of the entire situation. They all start laughing, and Dream feels something unwind in his chest when they do. He thinks about texting Hob, but ultimately decides against it. What he wants to tell him, he wants to do it sober, and in person.

Dream wakes up the next morning extremely hungover, and orders breakfast for delivery. Didi and Eleanor try to insist on paying him back, but he waves away their money, and tells them they can buy him dinner when he flies out to see them move. They both hug him fiercely on their way out and make him promise to see them at least one more time before they fly back to Seattle.

-----------------

A week after his conversation with his sister and Eleanor, Dream is outside Hob’s apartment door, pacing nervously as he rehearses everything he wants to say to Hob. His apology. His request to start things over, if Hob still wants to try. How he’s really been feeling about their whole not-relationship status.

Really, he’s just stalling knocking on Hob’s door. What if Hob doesn’t answer when he sees it’s Dream? What if he tells Dream to go away without even hearing him out? What if—

Dream groans and then mentally slaps himself. He needs to stop worrying himself unnecessarily. Either Hob will want to hear him out or he won’t. But Dream needs to at least try.

He’s about to raise his hand to finally knock on the door, when suddenly he hears Hob’s voice, distinctly from not inside the apartment.

“Dream?” Hob asks. Dream turns in the direction of his voice and finds Hob standing at the end of the hall, groceries in hand. Dream realizes he’s been an idiot standing in front of a completely empty apartment.

“Hi,” Dream says, every rehearsed speech and romantic gesture he’d just been rehearsing evaporating from his mind like wisps of smoke.

“Hi,” Hob replies, his voice flat. He looks tired, but not angry at least, to see Dream. “Did you need something?” he asks as he walks slowly towards his front door, eyeing Dream a little suspiciously. Dream can’t really blame him. Their last interaction had ended rather poorly.

“I—can we talk?” Dream asks, stepping aside so Hob can put his key in the lock. Hob sighs and his shoulders droop, like he’s been dreading this exact situation.

“Sure,” Hob replies, putting on a fake cheerful demeanor as he opens the door to let himself and Dream in.

“Do you need help with anything?” Dream asks, trailing Hob towards the kitchen.

“If you want,” Hob replies, setting the groceries down onto the counter. But before Dream can start unpacking anything, he sighs again and groans.

“Actually, Dream,” Hob says, turning around and facing him head on. “Let’s just talk now.”

“Uhm—okay,” Dream replies, now feeling incredibly nervous. Hob looks at him expectantly, crossing his arms as he waits for Dream to gather his thoughts.

Finally, Dream says, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. About everything that happened last time I was here.”

His apology seems to surprise Hob, who suddenly straightens up from his leaning position against the counter.

“Oh,” Hob replies, sounding dumbstruck. “I—I’m sorry too,” he offers, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his hair. Dream realizes it’s longer than the last time he’d seen it. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper at you that night.”

“To be fair, I was being an ass,” Dream admits, even though it pains him to do so.

“Yeah but you had a reason to be,” Hob says. “I was just feeling sorry for myself for no reason and I took it out on you.”

“I still took my shitty day out on you,” Dream replies, shrugging. “So I guess we were both not at our best that night.”

“I guess not,” Hob accepts, with a small smile. “We’re okay then?”

Dream nods. “Yes,” he says, offering a small smile himself, then stepping towards Hob. “Why were you feeling sorry for yourself?” Hob’s expression shutters closed again, and he shakes his head.

“It’s not important,” he says, turning away and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.

“Hob,” Dream says, taking another step closer and reaching out to take the other man’s hand in his. “It’s important to me,” he adds.

Hob sighs, and then turns his eyes to the ceiling. When he meets Dream’s gaze again, he looks pained.

“I’m not good at being casual Dream,” Hob tells him bluntly, and Dream feels a sense of deja vu run through him like a live wire. “If we’re going to keep doing…this, I want there to be a commitment. It’s not just sex to me.”

It’s almost identical to what Eleanor had said about Hob to Dream a week prior. Dream suddenly feels wretched for not noticing sooner, but also indignant, because why had Hob assumed that wasn’t what Dream wanted as well?

“Hob,” Dream says, as calmly as he can manage, before he squeezes Hob’s hand tightly. “What made you think I didn’t want the same things?”

Hob’s face falls. He looks intently at Dream’s face, and whatever he finds there only seems to upset him further.

“I—I don’t know,” Hob admits, before he groans and places his free hand over his face. Dream finds it a bit comforting that he hasn’t tried to remove Dream’s hand over his other one.

“I’ve read this whole thing wrong, haven’t I?” Hob says through his hand, before slapping his forehead. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Dream says, before he takes Hob’s free hand as well. “And to be fair,” he adds, “it’s occurred to me recently that I may have, as well. We’ve never talked about—about this,” he gestures between them. “Us. We just sort of skip to the sex.”

“Well, we have been drunk every time,” Hob replies. “You said so yourself.”

“Not—every time,” Dream says. “After Matthew got food poisoning, when I thought that you had invited me out on a date, we only had one drink each that we didn’t finish.”

“Wait,” Hob stutters, his whole body going rigid. “You thought I had invited you out for a date? That’s why—,” his eyes widen suddenly. “That’s why you wore the blazer.”

Dream blushes furiously and now it is his turn to look away from Hob’s scrutinizing gaze. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“No I’m not I—,” Hob groans again, and then, unexpectedly, pulls his hands free before dropping his head down on Dream’s shoulder. Dream startles when he feels Hob’s arms suddenly wrap around his waist shortly after.

“I had no idea. None at all,” Hob confesses, then groans again. “God I would’ve taken you somewhere nicer if I knew you wanted it to be a date.”

Dream shrugs, then reaches up to pat Hob on the back. “It’s fine. Really.”

“Not really, but we can agree to disagree,” Hob replies, before he tilts his head slightly up to look at Dream “Can I get a do-over on that then?” he asks. “Take you out on a proper date?”

Dream wants that, he realizes. Desperately. So he nods.

“I do want that,” Dream says honestly. “But—”

“Oh God, there’s a ‘but’,” Hob groans before he straightens and untangles himself from Dream. Dream already misses the warmth of Hob’s body.

“It’s not a bad ‘but’,” Dream replies. “But there’s something that’s been bothering me since we—since all this started,” he finishes. “I want to make sure we’re really on the same page.”

Hob nods. “Okay, sure. What is it?” he asks.

Dream takes a deep breath to brace himself, and then looks Hob directly in the eye. Now or never, he supposes.

“Why do you turn off the lights?” Dream asks.

Hob blinks, slow, then suddenly blushes a furious red before he buries his face in his hands.

“Aw, come on Dream,” Hob sighs. “It’s really embarrassing.”

Dream softens a bit, but remains resolute. Eleanor had told him what she thought had been the problem all along, but he still needs to hear it from Hob himself.

“I need to know, Hob,” Dream insists.

“Why?” Hob asks, then sighs again. “I mean, I don’t know, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it? I’m not really much to look at, you know,” he says, gesturing to himself.

“Not much to look at?” Dream asks, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“I know, it’s stupid,” Hob sighs, running a hand over his face. “But I mean, Dream, look at you. You’re gorgeous and I’m…I don’t know, not that?”

“I’m still not following,” Dream says, still confused but also growing more and more uneasy about what Hob is implying. “Did you…did you really not think I was attracted to you? At all?”

“No, I—I just—,” Hob stutters. “I don’t know what I thought, honestly,” he says, looking guilty. “I just—I’m not as confident as you about how I look naked,” he adds, gesturing to his front, and Dream’s heart sinks at the confirmation of yet another thing Eleanor had told him. “I thought…maybe you’d change your mind about being with me. If you saw, well— everything.”

“Everything,” Dream replies flatly.

“I mean, you know I’m really…hairy,” Hob says, before he winces. “And well, I’m not really in shape or anything like that either…” he trails off, looking even more guilty with every new word that comes out of his mouth. Like he’s only just realizing now that he pushed his anxieties about his body onto Dream, who clearly hasn't noticed any of the things Hob's insecure about.

“So…what?” Dream says, suddenly feeling indignance and hurt creep into his voice. “You just assumed I wouldn’t find you attractive unless I was drunk and we had sex in the dark?”

“Wait, what?” Hob exclaims.

“Am I really that shallow sounding to you?” Dream continues, already feeling his emotions start to get the better of him.

“No, oh god, no,” Hob replies immediately. “Dream, I don’t know what’s brought this on, but swear it had nothing to do with you. I was just stupid and insecure about myself, and I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry, I really had no idea it bothered you so much.”

A somewhat tense and awkward silence falls between them. Dream mulls over what Hob has told him, feeling wretched about how deeply they’ve both misunderstood one another. But he had come here to clear those misunderstandings after all. Hob had admitted his insecurities. Now Dream had to as well.

“I actually thought—” Dream says, then takes a shuddering breath to calm himself. “I thought you turned the lights off because you didn’t want to look at me,” he finally admits. “Because I wasn’t who you really wanted to be with.”

Hob’s eyes widen, first in shock, then horror. “Wait you thought that I—”

“Was using me as a stand-in for Eleanor?” Dream finishes. He wraps his arms around himself and then looks away, refusing to meet Hob’s eyes. He feels like a coward for doing so but Dream knows he’ll lose his resolve to admit everything he’d been bottling up if he does. “The first time we slept together, I assumed you were only looking for a rebound. And when we never talked about it after, or told our friends I—”

“Fuck, Dream,” Hob interrupts, grabbing him suddenly and hugging Dream to his chest. “I had no idea, I—fuck, I’m so sorry I made you feel like that.”

Dream sniffles, wrapping his own arms around Hob, shrugging helplessly.

“I should have said something sooner,” Dream says. “But I let it—fester instead. I had no idea that you thought you weren’t attractive to me either. But Hob,” he adds, turning his head to meet Hob’s eyes again, hoping he looks as serious as he feels. “I don’t just sleep with people I’m not attracted to. Regardless of how much alcohol is involved.”

Hob nods. “Yeah. I—I’m still sorry about everything though.”

“Me too,” Dream replies, then adds, a bit more quietly. “I like the hair, actually.” Hob chokes out a noise that seems half between a laugh and a sob.

“You don’t have to say—” he starts but Dream shushes him.

“I mean it, Hob,” Dream says, before he works a hand between them to pet the small patch of hair peeking out from beneath Hob’s shirt. “I think it suits you. And I would like to be able to fully appreciate it.”

When he looks up at Hob, the other man’s eyes are a bit watery. But then Hob blinks rapidly, and sniffles, before he hugs Dream even more tightly to himself.

“Stay the night?” Hob asks. “Not for—not for sex. Just stay with me?”

Dream nods against Hob’s shoulder. “Okay.”

Hob makes a decision to order takeout instead of making dinner like he originally planned, citing that he’d rather spend time talking with Dream anyways. They still put away the groceries, which helps release a lot of the emotional tension that had built up between them, and Dream enjoys the warm, domestic feel of the activity.

Once their food arrives, they settle on Hob’s couch and talk late into the night about everything and nothing. Hob catches Dream up on what missed during trivia when he was out with Didi, and Dream shyly admits that Didi had not been the only person he’d talked to that evening. Hob stares at him, equal parts awestruck and mortified, as Dream recalls his conversations with Eleanor and Didi, and how he found out they were dating.

“So what you’re saying is, I’m lucky to have my bits still attached?” Hob jokes.

“Hob,” Dream chastises him, bumping their shoulders together. “That’s not nice.”

“You didn’t date Eleanor,” Hob retorts. “She’s terrifying, do you know how many serial killer documentaries she used to watch?”

Dream did, in fact, know this. He had been subject to many episodes of Cold Case Files growing up with Didi, and his knowledge had been how he and Eleanor had first become friends. Dream suspects Eleanor’s deep passion for them is actually one of the reasons why she and Didi get along so well.

“Hob,” Dream says, a new worry now crossing his mind. “Are you—okay—with all of this?” he waves vaguely. “With Didi dating your ex while we—?” He trails off. They still haven’t really decided on what their official relationship status would be going forward, and Dream doesn’t want to presume.

Hob nudges Dream with his shoulder, and then kisses the top of his head.

“Yeah, I am,” Hob answers sincerely. “I mean—it’s never not going to suck that we broke up,” he adds. “But we had our time, and if she’s happy then I’m happy too.”

Dream nods. “That’s good to hear,” he says.

“Are you okay with it?” Hob asks. Dream hums.

“I am,” he answers, then huffs a laugh. “I did offer to help them move into their new place, though.”

Hob groans. “Does this mean I have to help too as part of my good boyfriend duties?” he asks.

Dream’s potsticker falls out of his mouth mid chew, hits his knee, and then falls to the floor.

“Shit!” Dream exclaims, putting his food on the coffee table before bending down to pick up the stray dumpling.

“I—did I say something wrong?” Hob asks, worry now clear in his voice. Dream shakes his head and then flops against Hob’s shoulder.

“You said nothing wrong,” Dream says into Hob’s shoulder, his face now flushed with embarrassment. “I was just surprised, is all. You—you said it so easily.”

“Boyfriend, you mean?” Hob asks, now in a teasing tone. “Do you like it?”

Dream nods, feeling ridiculous about being done in by a single word. But Hob doesn’t seem to mind.

“I like it too,” is all he says, before he places a hand underneath Dream’s chin and kisses him.

-----------------

As they’re getting ready for bed, Dream feels a thrum of excitement, even though they’ve still agreed that sex is off the table for the night. They’re both far too tired and emotionally drained from the evening to put in the effort anyways.

But then Hob is holding out his arm for Dream to snuggle into, and Dream feels like a teenanger as he curls up against Hob’s chest and rests his head on it.

“Fair warning that you’re going to wake up sweaty if you stay here all night,” Hob tells him. Dream knows he doesn’t mean to sound so self-deprecating, but now that he knows just how deep Hob’s insecurities run, it breaks his heart a little.

“That’s fine,” Dream says, pressing himself even closer. He can feel Hob’s chest hair poking through the thin material of his undershirt. Dream rubs his face into it, enjoying the rough, scratchy texture against his check. Hob laughs at Dream’s actions, and Dream hums in contentment. He really did like the feel of Hob’s chest hair. It was surprisingly soft in certain places, and warm. Maybe Dream would wake up because he’s too warm in the middle of the night. Maybe he won’t. He’s just glad that now he gets the opportunity to find out.

“You don’t have to pretend to be enthusiastic about it,” Hob says as Dream nuzzles him again.

“I’m not,” Dream replies, rolling his eyes. “It feels…nice.”

“Sure,” Hob replies. “Say that again in the morning.”

Dream does in fact, say something similar to that effect in the morning. He says it while he sits atop Hob’s lap, Dream gripping the thick pelt of hair for purchase as he ruts himself desperately against Hob.

They’ve never had sex in the morning. In the bright light of day. Somehow it’s even more intimate than what Dream imagines having sex with the lights on must feel like and he loves it. Hob is looking at Dream like he’s something divine, like he can’t quite believe that what they’re doing is really happening. Dream thinks he’ll never let Hob turn off the lights again when they do this. He never again wants to miss a single second of seeing the way Hob looks at him, at how stunning Hob’s entire body looks and feels when pressed against Dream’s. His new goal, for however long it takes, is that Hob never questions Dream’s attraction to him ever again.

When they’ve both reached their peaks, Dream collapses on top of Hob, uncaring of the sticky mess between them. Hob’s chest is warm and broad, and Dream finds himself slowly drifting back to sleep. Hob groans after a while, however, wriggling beneath the weight of Dream's body, and disturbing his otherwise peaceful post-coital rest.

“Okay, this is sweet and all, but now I’m the one that's too hot,” Hob whines, pushing gently at Dream’s shoulder. Dream laughs, a brazen, awful honking noise that he’s always been insecure about. But Hob had told him the night before that he loves Dream’s laugh, and Dream can see now that the other man wasn’t lying. He’s looking at Dream softly, so full of affection that Dream nearly forgets he needs to move and just stares at Hob for a while.

“What?” Hob asks, his eyes crinkled with happiness.

“Nothing,” Dream replies, smiling back before he moves off of his boyfriend’s chest.

Hob gets up from the bed once Dream rolls off of him and heads towards the bathroom. He comes back with two warm washcloths to wipe themselves off with. When they’re both done, he tosses both cloths in the direction of the hamper, missing his target by mere inches.

“Close enough,” Hob says.

“That’ll leave a wet spot on your carpet,” Dream tells him, already seeing his prediction start to come true.

“I’ll get to it later,” Hob replies before he kisses Dream, languid and slow and perfect. “I have more important things to do today.”

#dreamling #dream of the endless/hob gadling #hob x morpheus #dreamling bingo #dreamling bingo 2024 #seiya writes #seiya writes dreamling #angst angst angst

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sameschmidtdiffname · 10 months ago

Note

MIKE SMUT SMTH ABT HIS THIGHS AND HE S ALSO SUBBY PLSSSSS

DAAAAAAAAAARLIIIIIIIIIIING!

GUESS WHO JUST BROKE THEIR TWO WEEK BREEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAK!

Pretty

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Men are so pretty. And they can be so stupid. And who doesn't like stupid, pretty toys?

Tags: No specified sex for Reader, Reader is referred to with a male title at one point for sexual purposes (which one I won't say, but it's not daddy! I will say that), otherwise no gendered pronouns used for Reader, sub! Mike, dom! Reader, dynamic switch, accidental kink reveal, thigh admiration (this was not as focused on thighs as I intended, honestly. I'm sorry lmao), Mike gets used like a BITCH, and I mean a BITCH. Bro gets DOGGED, bro gets USED, bro may be PREGNANT after this (he ain't, no mpreg, I'm just being funny), humping, biting, french kissing, marking, choking, just have fun with this. It's a treat for all!

Notes: I'M STILL ON A BREAK! BUT, you guys have been so sweet and so nice. So, a drabble, because I love you all and you deserve it <3

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I've always admired hands.

Strong hands, working hands. One of the first things I look for in men is if their hands look like they're capable of long lasting, almost back breaking labor.

The second thing I look for is shoulders. Preferably broad, capable of holding the third thing I look for. Which would be

Thighs.

I don't even have a particular taste for what those look like. The desire doesn't lie within the looks, although I could certainly spend a fair amount of my time stealing glances towards a fine, large pair. Straining against the material of their pants, spread out over a chair, doubling in size once someone sits. No, the desire lies in how sensitive they seem to be. Just a ghostly touch of your hands or lips upon the soft skin can usually send someone reeling. Can make someone sing such a soft, quiet note so raw and genuine before you've even drawn near to the area they want you the most.

I should've touched him sooner like this.

Mike Schmidt doesn't pretend to be a macho man. He's not insecure of his masculinity, he raises his little sister, goes to work, comes to bed. He doesn't have time to worry about being a man's man.

I can attest, however. Once in the bedroom, he has absolutely no issue with expressing his masculinity.

In any way, shape or form.

"Touch me," he moans breathily, bucking his fully clothed hips towards me in a desperate, needing manner.

I never said masculinity involves domination.

It'd just started with us cuddling on the couch. Abby out at a friend's, us snuggled under a warm blanket at home on the couch. The comforter to his bed, to be specific. Everything else was too small or too cold for us, so we just dragged it out. The old TV in front of us displaying a rerun of a movie we were only halfway paying attention to, both of us beginning to drift in and out of sleep. Mike had wrapped me under his arm, placing a soft kiss on my forehead every now and then when he decided it'd been too long since he last had. I was pressed against his side, one hand on his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing circles.

Here's the fun thing about guys. Half the time they are so touch starved, it takes nothing to get them going. And that's fun.

I didn't realize why Mike was beginning to shift in his seat some. Why his heartbeat against my ear had picked up, why his breathing was getting somewhat shaky. Tell tale signs of something, but honestly I figured it was the movie. It wasn't until he pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, then trailed down to my cheek, my jaw, and began nipping at my neck that it began to dawn on me.

"What's got you in a mood?" I chuckled, my fingers digging I just a little more to his warm, covered flesh.

"Nothing," he said breathily in my ear, his tongue beginning to trace my jawline. "Just thought you looked pretty."

I call his bluff when I dig into a tense muscle, a loud, pathetic moan escaping him that he tries to quickly stiffle in my neck. Moaning and biting at me, his hand beginning to search my chest to graze his fingers against my sensitive nipples, easy to play with under the smooth material of Mike's stolen, cotton shirt.

"Ah," I say, continuing to rub as he pants eagerly against me. "I see."

Mike's trying to maneuver us so that he can position himself on top of me, and regularly I would agree, but I'm not quite done with my new toy just yet.

"Let me up," I say into his ear, trying to pull away. Mike simply moans into my skin, biting harder as his fingers finally wrap around my already stiff nipple, tugging at it, making me moan in harmony to him. "Mike," I say, trying to ground us both.

Mike doesn't care, his other hand searching for my thighs, knowing how much I like for mine to be played with before he spends hours between my legs, gasping, choking, and grinning ear to ear with pride after swallowing whatever amount of cum I'd given him. His teeth sink into my neck again, this time not just playful. Digging in and making me cry out in slight pain, yet pleasure coursing through me as my eyes roll back into my head.

"So pretty," Mike moans against me, his voice soft and high. His lashes flutter butterfly kisses against my forming bruises while his lips trail to my collarbone, his stiff cock brushing against my hand as he shifts.

This is what settles the idea in my mind.

My hand snaps up, pulling harshly at Mike's dark, almost black curls, tugging until his head had snapped all the way backwards, exposing the tan skin of his throat to me. Eagerly, I lick a long, wide stripe up his throat, from bottom to top until I can clearly feel the prickly stubble of his facial hair on my tongue. His adams apple bobs under the wet muscle as he moans openly, a moan that only increases in volume and pitch once I bite roughly into the side of his neck, not allowing him a chance to escape as I keep my tight grip on his curls.

"Fu-ck," he drawls, his voice breaking as he begins to allow me to guide him to my desires, laying him on his back against the worn down couch, his hips subconsciously rolling towards me in anxiety for my touch.

"So pretty," I breathe in his ear, a soft whimper escaping him as his blush deepens, accenting the subtle freckles that decorate his skin like the stars decorate the night sky. I've tried to kiss each one, knowing the task was futile, but was well rewarded by the puddle of mush he'd dissolved into as my lips had trailed against his tan skin. Mike tries to turn his face away from me to hide the blush, unsure of how else to handle the compliment.

God, I love men. They're idiots.

I grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open and adoring the pathetic whine that escapes him as I shove my tongue into his mouth, his eyes half open, watching me as he gives in to the kiss, his hands tugging at my shirt as he humps against nothing, pent up and stupid underneath of me.

They're so cute, right?

When I pull away, a long string of spit still connects us, his eyes obediently trained on me as I pin him down against the couch by his throat, anticipating my next move. I move myself to tower over him, his mouth still open as he pants, and I spit into his mouth. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't complain. Hell, by the glint in his eyes, you'd think he'd thank me. Though he doesn't.

It's fine. He will soon enough.

I lower myself along his body, my hands once more finding his thick thighs and squeezing them, admiring the firmness underneath of his shorts.

"Have I told you I love your thighs?" I ask, my breath fanning against his covered erection. Mike simply moans.

"I do. Watch them all the time. Don't even realize I'm doing it, honestly," I say. I lean down, placing a feather light kiss on his hip. He whines. "They're so pretty. Just like the rest of you."

His hips buck towards me, his cock obviously twitching underneath the material.

"Touch me," he moans, his face pink and halfway covered with his hand. I reach up and grab his hand away, smacking swiftly at his thigh.

"Be good," I snap, earning me a sharp gasp as he writhes underneath of me, mumbling some sort of agreement.

"Good," I praise softly. "Good. See, that wasn't so hard."

My lips start at his knee, kissing there and beginning to work their way up as he clasps his hands above his head, teeth gritted in an attempt to stay quiet.

"You can moan," I tell him, my other hand slipping underneath the pant legs of his shorts. "I like the pretty sounds you make."

Pretty. I didn't know that was his trick word. The word that could force him into a pathetic, begging mess that can't even keep eye contact. Oh, he's beautiful. Bite marks blooming against his skin, such a deep blush, tossled curls. His soft abdomen shutters with each unsteady breath, slightly exposed, his happy trail dark against his skin and leading to the place that shows how he wants me. His tongue darting out to lick his lips so often they'll be chapped by the end of the night from overstimulation. That's his tell that he's close.

"What, pretty boy gonna cum in his pants?" I ask, my hand trailing along his hot skin and digging my nails in to make him sing. His back arches slightly, eyes trained on the ceiling as his mouth opens in an almost silent gasp.

"No," he clearly lies, his hips subtly moving of their own accord.

"You look like such a pretty mess!" I chuckle against his skin, pressing a soft kiss on his lower thigh. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."

He doesn't respond to this, clearly lost in his thoughts.

"Michael," I say, voice slightly firm. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Mike rolls his eyes, huffing and not obeying. Aw. Cute.

My hands grip underneath of his knees, quickly shoving them to meet his shoulders, eyes wide as he gasps at the maneuver he's done to me so many times I can't even count. Shoved into a mating press, I grind my hips against him, pounding against him quickly and harshly, relishing the broken sounds he makes as I hump him hard enough his head is bouncing against the arm of the couch, his eyes fluttering shut as they roll into the back of his head.

"It's a simple request," I hiss against his skin, rewarded with a loud moan. "I didn't ask for your fuckin' attitude."

The glint in his eyes when they open unintentionally shows he's fine with this response, happy to take more and more until he really does cum with hardly any stimulation to his cock. His mouth is open, tongue peaking out from behind his bottom teeth, his breathing on the cusp of hyperventilating as he submits to my touch.

"Is it so hard?" I ask, keeping even time with my abusive pace. "To just listen to me?"

"No, sir," Mike moans happily.

Oh?

"What was that?" I ask, leaning closer as I shove his knees harder against his shoulders. His eyes snap open, dead ahead on the ceiling as his mind clearly tries to process what to say next.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

"Bullshit," I snap, adjusting my grip so one arm pins his knees so that my hand can snake down between us and smack at his ass in scolding. "Repeat yourself."

"I don't know what I said," he says quickly, avoiding eye contact.

I smack again, this time hard enough he cries out.

"Say it," I seethe, increasing my tempo and pounding harder against him until he looks like he may cry, his eyes squeezed shut and mouth open as he pants like a whore underneath of me.

"Sir," he finally admits, shame burning bright in his cheeks. "I called you sir."

I toss his legs onto my shoulders, my hand now finding his throat as I hump him into the bed, rewarding his honestly.

"I see," I drawl, not relenting my pace nor strength. "Someone's into getting used."

This seems to roll him over the edge, his face bright and relaxing as his eyes flutter shut, only for me to bite at his bottom lip, causing them to open again.

"Watch me," I command, biting harshly into his lip. "I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum like a good toy."

His eyes widen slightly, his mouth slack as he obeys. The moment I release his lip his tongue darts out to wet it, lingering over the soft bite marks.

"It's alright, you can do it," I say softly, choking him slightly harder. "Let me watch, then I'll let you fuck me however you want."

His eyes are pleading, begging for more.

"You want something? Use your words," I tell him, slamming particularly hard this time, hard enough his head slams into the couch concerningly. But he doesn't mind, does he?

"Kiss me," he breathes, so light, the request sounds innocent and sweet compared to the way I'm abusing him on his own couch. I comply, pressing my lips against his in a soft, sweet kiss that he whines into, his lips parting and tongue slipping against my lips in a sloppy, pleading, silent request. And how can I say no?

I part my lips for him, enjoying the way he arches into the kiss, moaning as our tongues slide together in a messy, graceless fight for control. My lips trap the tip of his tongue, sucking on it and tugging it upwards harshly as he cries out, his hips beating against mine as his lashes flutter shut once more, but this time I don't scold him. I simply grind against him as hard and as fast as my tiring body will allow, guiding him through his overwhelming orgasm, the sounds of his crystal clear moans cutting through the air, perfectly complimenting his red face, glistening eyes and shaking body.

"That's it," I coo in his ear. "That's a good toy. Just let me fuck you."

He's stupid and lost to the world, his cock twitching pathetically as thick ropes of cum decorate the inside of his shorts, making the material stick to his skin, overstimulating him as I begin to lessen my pace, beginning to give him grace he no longer has words to ask for.

"So pretty," I whisper as I try to kiss each tiny freckle on his beet red nose, his breath hot against my throat as he tries to regain his focus. "So pretty, and mine."

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Mike slurs stupidly underneath of me, his legs still trembling on my shoulders.

I giggle, smiling as I lean down to place another kiss, sweet this time, against Mike's swollen, glossy lips.

"I dunno," I say, shrugging. Mike whimpers as I pull away.

"Guess I just thought you were pretty."

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm 100% gonna be late for work because of this, but worth it

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

•▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

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oiblackestsheep · 1 month ago

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Hooooy! MBTI types as movies? :D

HELLO, and thanks for waiting so long for me to do this 😭 I literally typed all the movies like a million years ago and just haven't had any time to put together the little analysis blurbs but I'M HERE NOW SO LETS DO IT.

Also sidenote: I am notriously terrible for remembering the full plots of movies (and don't watch a ton of movie in general) so if anything seems off in these analyses (aside from the fact that I tried not to go FULL STEREOTYPE), I would bet it is more of a problem with remembering the movie than it is understanding MBTI, but hey, what do I know lmao

MBTI Types as Movies

INTP: The Matrix

The GOATed movie for the GOATed type, what can I say. LMAO, just jokes, just jokes on both accounts. I mean, they're both great, but you know, I mean no offense. Still, I think this fits well because you spend so much of the movie how things work in the Matrix because the rules of reality start getting wonkier the more they investigate. Ti loves figuring things out and Ne is all about things being new and/or different, so it was an easy pick. Maybe a bit stereotypical, but hey, at least it wasn't Lord of the Rings or Star Wars (also great movies, but come on, it's been said a million times, we gotta shake it up a LITTLE).

ENTP: Jurassic Park

Watch the scene where Dr. Ian Malcom tells everyone "you were so preoccupied with whether or not you could that you didn't stop to think if you should" and TELL me this isn't an ENTP movie lmao. Jurassic park is ALL about how new and interesting of a possibility modern-day dinosaurs could be, and they had the Ti and science to back up their ambitions. And also the tert Fe to decide to make it a theme park I guess? Lmao, it's like, okay, sure, kinda weird, but I GUESS people will like it.

INFP: Scott Pilgrim vs The World

The movie is very Fi portraying Scott's life because you can feel just how everything is so personalized and tailored to his lifestyle and preferences that even things like his band feel like an extension of himself. The same goes for the other characters in the band too; even minor characters have so much individuality with such little screentime, which appears very Fi-dom to me. And also just like, cartoon + anime logic to fight Ramona's evil ex's is such an Ne premise because of how different and sometime random it is - I love it. Sidenote: Scott Pilgrim Takes Off on Netflix is a super good miniseries!

ENFP: Inside Out

A fun and zaney way of expressing your own personified emotions that all interact with each other and are interwoven with your real life struggles and choices? Can that get any more ENFP if it tried? Not to mention that people have taken to creating their OWN versions of their primary emotions, too. Explain to me how Bing Bong could ever exist without a massive super dose of Ne, lmao.

INTJ: Dune

A futuristic sci-fi universe with complex and realistic political unrest, economic corruption, and ecological issues to demonstrate examples of the abuse of power all wrapped up in one big collection is like the epitome of an INTJ and dominant Ni to me. As silly as this might sound, I really did NOT follow this movie super well, even though it SOUNDS like it should be up my alley as an INTP, and that in part lead me to think it might be more of an INTJ movie. It's got a lot of the same ingredients, but you can tell it's just built different because of the massive world-building.

ENTJ: The Truman Show

I would say the premise of staging Truman's entire life with the expectation that it will persist all the way into his old age as a way of capitalizing on it for profit and TV show ratings is a pretty Dom-Te, Aux-Ni, ENTJ kind of thing to do. A BAD ENTJ thing to do, but ENTJ nonetheless. Everything that happened to Truman had an intended purpose, which was to keep audience engagement with the show. I COULD see an argument made for this being an ENFJ thing, but I decided ENTJ because at the end of the day, they cared more about and prioritized the boons to be gained from continuing the show, not necessarily the emotional reactions of Truman, themselves.

INFJ: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Probably my favorite movie of all time (if you couldn't tell, I really like Jim Carrey) has to go to INFJ. This movie really takes you so far into his head, and really captures what it is like to be doing that dom-Ni thing of looking for and assigning symbolic meaning to things (often times other people's thoughts and actions), especially in such a way that can be dangerous, and seems to be a major cause of both main characters' debilitating depession and self-confidece issues. Not to say all INFJs are like that, of course, but a lot of the themes that come up in this movie are great examples of just how wrong things can go with unhealthy Ni-Fe.

ENFJ: Gone Girl

Similar to ENTJ, Gone Girl has some very potent ENFJ vibes, again, also BAD ENFJ vibes, but still ENFJ vibes. The main antagonist really shows off all of the classic techniques for emotional manipulation via Fe, and the seamlessness of it all as she consistently remains one step ahead of the protagonist the entire time really demonstrates the forthought that can come with Ni. Sometimes she is so far ahead of the protagonist, he even has a hard time decifering what she is even planning to do next, or the intended outcome. ENFJs being Fe-doms lends themselve to still be outcome-driven like ENTJs, but here, the intended outcomes are emotionally and socially colored.

ISTP: Good Will Hunting

The ISTP gets all the glory for being aloof, and dangerous to mess with, and that isn't NOT present in his movie, but what they DON'T get enough credit for is their capacity for an impressive intellect. ISTPs are Ti-doms just like INTPs, so it should follow that they have incredibly logical and curious minds that have an aptitude for understanding how things work - that's a big plot point for our protagonist who solves the infamously difficult equation on the chalkboard, only to find out that he isn't stuff academic like everyone EXPECTED him to be. Grounded by his Se, he even mocks students attending the university for spending so much money on their education, when he has learned just as much for free with his library card. Raw intellect with no fluff (and no fucks to give) is ISTP through-and-through.

ESTP: Catch Me If You Can

Read the book for a school project back in the day and loved it. The quick thinking-on-the-feet to be able to bullshit his way through so many different scenarios, pretending to be a pilot so well that they PUT THE GUY IN THE COCKPIT is absolutely wild to me. This might also touch a fair bit on what developed tertiary Fe can get you if you abuse it a bit too much. I could see an argument made for higher Fe placements too, but I attributed a lot of his ability to say the right things and adapt because a lot of times, he did not seem like he had much of a detailed plan going in, which sounds a lot more dom Se to me.

ISFP: Titanic

Instant classic and based on a true story, which I think really appeals to Se (same for ESTP above, actually!), and is a big reason why I picked it. Overall, a pretty introverted and definitely emotional story because it mostly focuses on the developing relationship between the two main characters and, of course, the tragedy, too. It's such a personal story that does a good job of bringing you into the first person perspective of the main character's feelings and experiences from start to finish - it can be a bit visceral, even. I know it's a romance, but I REALLY didn't want to be like "mushy isfp? idk romance i guess", so hopefully this lands well.

ESFP: La La Land

Ahh, La La Land. Similar to the ISFP and Titanic in that it is still a very personal story that zeros in on the emotional experience of the main characters to the relationship and how they feel about it, but with a lot more sensory stimulation, and intoxication - and not necessarily even alcoholic intoxication, but like, infatuation with life experiences that they get to share with each other and assign their personal value to. Also kind of tragedy in it's own way since it doesn't end since they don't end up together, and despite all of the highs and experiences they share, and despite how much they love each other, but they each have their own vested personal interests that they want to achieve even more.

ISTJ: Indiana Jones

Thought Indiana Jones would go to ISTP, did you? Surprised? It's not that it COULDN'T be an ISTP movie, it's just that Jones constantly talking about how much things belong in museums just REALLY screams ISTJ to me. It just seems way more dom Si to be that passionate about preserving artifacts so that you can study them, reference them, compare them, etc. forever and ever. Not to mention he's got that tertiary Fi that gives him a soft spot and a vested interest in protecting those artifacts. He takes the protection of the those artifacts very personally in a way that I wouldn't expect to see from an inferior Fe user like an ISTP.

ESTJ: Men in Black

The only thing separating this movie from just being a straight up FBI movie is the aliens; most everything else is pretty familiar and grounded in reality. They've got their FBI protocols and directives and a clear objective that is their job: contain the aliens. These attributes make it very Te-Si to me because they work in teams to accomplish their goals, and they do their best to stick to their codes and procedures (and ofc they break them sometimes because it's a movie it has to be exciting). Throw in some wacky stuff like aliens to please the ESTJ's tertiary Ne's craving for a little random fun, and you've got the MIBs.

ISFJ: Groundhog day

Constantly reliving the same day over and over again, having the same conversations with the same people, sometimes getting the same results, and sometimes getting different outcomes by making different choices sounds like an ISFJs inferior Ne kind of personal hell, but it does sort of cover most of the ISFJ experience, even if it's in a difficult context. Special shout out to the montage of Bill Murray killing himself like 100 times because he doesn't know how to break the cycle and is tired of having the same conversations with everyone. It cracks me up every time and seems like very tertiary Ti logic to me lmao

ESFJ: Little Women

Loosely based on a true story, period piece that focuses on the protagonists' relationships with each other (many of them sisters), as well as their places in society, also many of which end up growing into very DIFFERENT roles in society so as to contrast them as they age. This is especially interesting (and also Si lmao) when you take note that you see how they all started out on similar life paths as full-blooded siblings growing up in the same home. Great story, very dom-Fe for comparing some many different relationships that interweave and change over time.

#mbti #mbti types #mbti personalities #mbti personality types #16 personalities #ask #tigreblvnc #intp #entp #intj #entj #infp #enfp #infj #enfj #istp #estp #isfp #esfp #istj #estj #isfj #esfj

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the1975attheirverybest · 11 months ago

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Matty, ATVB, Simulacra and Simulation

responding to a question that someone asked ( which @abiiors has been kind enough to pass on to me). Here’s a brief explanation that I hope makes some kind of sense. ( please easy on my friends yall. Their blogs aren’t means of contacting me🩷)

it’s all very ✨meta✨ and ✨postmodern✨ I’m not really joking this is the kind of philosophy that Matty is referencing when he calls things “postmodern” or “meta.” So, strap in. Grab a snack or a drink or a joint.

ANYWAYS!

The relationship between art/ media, and “reality” has been a hot issue of contention for philosophy going alllllll the way back to Ancient Greece where Plato argued that artists are “liars” who “copy” reality and try to pass it off as real.

This obviously brings up questions regarding imitation, invention, recording, copying, representation, transcribing, etc etc etc.

the book that Matty is referencing Simulacra and Simulation takes up these issues in the context of our current society (postmodernist, late stage capitalist society).

The book argues that we have become sooo obsessed with media that we have replaced “real life” with it. We treat images, recordings, video, memes, etc as real as the things that they are based on (real life).

In this way, what we know now as reality is actually a simulation of reality.

According to the book, this did not happen overnight. It’s something that we moved towards over centuries. The real move likely started in the 1600s and it took until the 20th century to get us to the point where we are now.

“Simulacra” is all the excessive media that we have used to replace the real world. Signs, symbols, ads, billboards, video, sound bites, etc.

simulacra are NOT “pretending” to be real or “hiding” the truth. They have simply BECOME THE TRUTH because we treat them as true.

The book refers to this phenomenon as “hyper reality.” Like more real than the real. The thing that we started off simply recording or copying (“real life”) has turned into “less real” than thecopy of it (the video, picture, movie, insta post, etc).

The book makes a dramatic analogy of this by telling a hypothetical scenario where someone decided to make a map of a giant empire that is soooo detailed and accurate that it becomes as large as the empire itself. So people start to treated as if it ISSSS the empire. Not a map of it.

Fun fuckin fact: this book came out in the 80s lmao. So before social media. Imagine how wild it would be today?

Why is Matty referencing this book?

Well, let’s take a look at his Instagram posts (pause for a moment to consider the irony that he’s posting an Instagram story of a book about how everything is basically an Instagram story of reality. Peak Matty Healy? I think so. )

The first quote that he posted is

Simulating is not pretending: "Whoever fakes an illness can simply stay in bed and make everyone believe he is ill. Whoever simulates an illness produces in himself some of the symptoms.”

As I said above, simulation is not meant to “trick you” its not covering something real underneath. It IS the thing now. It’s acquired the status of being real. So, if someone goes so far as to act sick, stay in bed, make themselves sneeze, cough, stay up all night so that their eyes are red and they haven’t slept and they’re super tired, they might as well BE SICK. in fact now they AREEEE SICK they’re not pretending.

2. The second quote is

Therefore, pretending...leaves the principle of reality intact: the difference is always clear, it is simply masked, whereas simulation threatens the difference between the "true" and the “false,the real" and the imaginary

“Pretending” would be considered lying. Like there is a truth distinct from what you are portraying and you seek to hide the truth by portraying it differently. “Simulation” however doesn’t leave any difference between what’s true and what you show publicly, the two collapse into one another.

What does this have to do with ATVB?

Well, Matty is taking us back to “If it’s method acting but what you’re acting is actually your real life then what’s acting and what’s real?” Right?

There are, of course, other ways to extend this conundrum in light of 2023. That is, what’s rhetorical difference between “Truman Black” and “Matty Healy”? What’s the difference between the public perception of Matty Healy and the “real” Matty Healy? (Is there even such a thing?) If he commits to a joke or a bit AI HARD is the “bit” even a bit anymore? If not, does it lose its effectiveness? Cuz obviously people do acts BECAUSE they’re acts. They’re not reality. Except we now live in a world where all “acts” can and are indeed real.

Furthermore: is there a difference between the first and the second halves of the show? During SATVB NA the answer was no most of the time. Because they blended the setlist. BFIAFL and greatest hits were no longer clearly separated. They played bits of both at the same time.

If all of this is true, what then does it even mean to be “sincere” or “earnest” in a world where everything has an equal degree of reality all the time?

DOES THIS MAKE ANY SENSE TO ANYBODY AT ALL OR AM I INSANEEEE

#matty healy #atvb #simulacra #simulation #the 1975 #atvb2024 #SATVB #ross macdonald #the 1975 satvb #george daniel #adam hann

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petals2fish · 1 year ago

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Hello! I was thinking about you recently and realized your petalstofish account was gone, and I started to worry about you. Because that’s what I do. Maybe you said something about leaving your previous accounts and I missed it, that would be likely on my part. So I was thrilled when Dumbest Witch Alive showed up in my inbox and I found you here again! I hope you’re well!

Hi friend!! thank you so much for reaching out and for reading DWA!!!!I told @gryffindormischief last night that I genuinely threw up words onto paper and that’s the mess that came out lmao

Alsoooooo…I am so sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. I had mentioned only a couple of times that I was dealing with some health issues, but I never went into full detail, so I’m sure it looked odd when I just disappeared. 2023 was really hard year, and I stepped away from all social media except for my instagram for quite some time…but I’m really really excited to be back here and feeling more like Petals again. I missed everyone, and even in the year or so away, I knew eventually I would come back. I just didn’t want anyone to worry if I told them what was going on, so I figured a cold cut was easiest ♥️

Short story:

I was very ill, but I’m feeling SO much better!

Long Story:

Essentially, I had just moved back to Florida after being gone for four years in Arizona. When my old doctor in Florida saw me, they decided that the plaquinil treatments that I have been taking for my chronic illness for the last few years in Arizona had not been working. They decided to put me on this drug called methotrexate. It was chemotherapy in pill form, low dose, and it’s commonly used for people who have rheumatoid arthritis and lupus. My genetics love me so I have both RA and Lupus. So they thought it was a perfect match for me. It’s rare for people to have a super bad reaction to it, usually just fatigue and hair loss, but of course I managed to have like the worst reaction of all.

Due to multiple side effects, I ended up bed bound within a few days of starting my daily doses. During this time I could barely sit up and eat a meal. My mental health was plummeting anytime I allowed myself to have my phone in bed. I knew I had to do something else, before I totally crashed off the deep end. I would go on and see all my friends at Taylor’s era tour, and I’d had to sell my tickets. I was missing birthdays, movies, long planned trips with friends. I was SO lost in a way I can’t even begin to describe.

Even though my wonderful parents moved me in with them and got me a second opinion, by the time the new doctor got me off of the methotrexate and onto a new drug, it took another few months for my body to complete expel it from my system. So I was down for the count from March to October.

Thankfully, I’m feeling SOOO much better now and have a wonderful doctor who listens to me and never tells me my feelings aren’t valid. Once I had a better grasp mentally and physically, and I felt okay enough to start writing and reading and reviewing again, I decided to return to social media. Im actually super excited because I start physical therapy this week, which is a huge step, and I no longer need to use FMLA every week at work. Yay!

ALSOOOO not wholly related but some bot stole PetalsToFish SO HERE I AM WITH A NEW NAME. THANKS BOTS🤪

Xoxo

If u read all the way thru this I owe you an ice cream sundae

#petals talks #a long explanation #some know #some don’t #figured I’d explain for anyone who cares

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ao3-oner · 6 months ago

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i really love the gen.g members in your LCKverse ! can you please share a few random gen.g headcannons

Thank you so much for the ask! I love them so much too and am always happy to share more about them. For now, here's an assorted handbasket of hcs:

Kiin LOVES dogs, has wanted one ever since he was a little kid, but his parents never let him get one because they said it was too much responsibility. He wants to get one as soon as he retires from pro-gaming and has his own place, and has even pitched the idea of getting a team dog back when he was on KDF, but the idea got shot down. He likes cats, too, but is extremely allergic to them so sadly he has to keep his distance :(

Canyon has a sweet tooth, which may not seem like that big of a deal but for those of you who don't know ShowMaker hates anything sweet or sugary, so Canyon's kept this a secret for years. He may or may not have gotten busted by deokdam while sneaking a caramel from the Dplus dorm stash at 3 am back in '22 but he was fiercely sworn to silence and the issue never came to light. On GenG, he lets himself indulge a bit more, but he'll still freeze up on occasion when someone enters the room as he's unwrapping a sweet or mid-bite of a dessert.

Chovy has prepared for the event of one of his friends/colleagues getting stuck in a timeloop by preparing a specific loop codephrase that only he knows, so that if anyone else says it to him, he'll know they've lived through that same day before. He's also already started brainstorming a list of likely reasons why he or someone else might get stuck in a timeloop so that if someone does approach him he has a few ideas of what to try. No one knows why he felt the need to prepare so much for this hyperspecific fantasy scenario, but some have speculated that he watched a movie about it when he was young and ever since has had an irrational fear of groundhog-daying. Else maybe he just read the handful of LoLRPF fics about time loops and wanted to be ready, lmao-

Peyz first started playing League after watching Faker win Worlds in 2017 - prior to that, he primarily played solo-play games like card battlers and online board games. When he was eleven, he overheard some of his classmates talking about League and decided to watch the World Finals in hopes of making friends that way. After that, he gave it a try, and learned that he really liked working with other players - he did need to be in a carry role, though, in case the rest of his team wasn't up to standard. It was a few years later when he told his parents that his dream was to become a pro-gamer.

Lehends watched a TON of b-tier soap operas (k-dramas?) growing up and it used to drive his family crazy because he'd recite the most random lines from it at inopportune times (cue young Siwoo in detention because he told the teacher 'you only think that because you're pregnant with her husband's child', which is evidently not an appropriate response to being told he answered the math problem incorrectly). His television use was regulated after that, but then he discovered webtoons and got his tacky romance fix that way. If he's having a bad day, sometimes he'll still queue up one of his old favorites, maybe an episode of a drama that he can recite every word to, and curl up under the covers with snacks and act out the whole thing to himself.

That's one for everyone, but their group dynamic is very fun as well! If you watch their streams/vods you know that they all play arena with each other pretty regularly, and I love how they all take care of each other, especially how they all tend to Peyz. In my mind, Gen.G is essentially Peyz's adopted father (Canyon), mother (Chovy), tired uncle (Kiin) and wine aunt (Lehends), which is kind of hilarious because Peyz already has a way better home life than any of the four of them, yet they're all so devoted to taking care of him.

Thanks again for the ask, and have a great day <3

#oner-answers #rpf #oner-hcs

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shydaydreamer28 · 11 months ago

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DSMOM - PalmerStrange Rant

One finally I wanna let out. I only just watched this film for the first time last November, so the anger & rant-mode is still fresh in my system compared to folks who ripped this band-aid off 2 years ago when this film came out.

Imo, this movie utterly character assassinated Strange. But the biggest crime is the character assassination the PalmerStrange subplot did to him. And I wanna get out 1 big rant to cover all the cringe & issues I had with this regressive subplot.

First things first, we already see the garbage that is to come at the start of the film. Strange decides to go to Christine's wedding. This by itself is fine since the first film establishes that Christine still cares for Strange as a friend & loved one. Him going to support someone he cares for, perfectly fine.

The issue comes when you have our "hero" attempting to be a homewrecker at his ex's WEDDING RECEPTION!!!!! 🤬

Gotta show off & flex for her a bit first.

Christine has just told Strange that her husband is a big fan of his.

But why care about that when your first order of business is to try to steal the man's wife AT THEIR WEDDING? I am going to keep emphasizing the bold. Lmao

So Strange goes on his sob story about regretting their failed romance DURING HER WEDDING RECEPTION.

Christine is very patient with him on this nonsense. She never gets short with him and pollitely tells him their relationship was not meant to be despite the fact she is very clearly uncomfortable having to listen to that AT HER WEDDING.

Rather than let it go, Strange has to make things more awkward for both of them by insisting on an elaboration AT HER WEDDING - as if that's gonna change anything at that point.

Christine pollitely gives her answer he insisted on.

Now Strange gets to stand there looking (even more) awkward. But considering the tackiness of this exchange he insisted on, ever bit of his discomfort is deserved. Lol

Now that Christine has admitted she does not love him & never could, he realizes he ain't pulling her and backpedals. Having lost the exchange, he does the ONLY thing he ever should have to begin with & gives her his best wishes, very forcedly, with the fakest smile he could half-ass muster. lol

This entire scene made Strange look pathetic & tacky asf. We're already off to a bad start.

For me, it's hard to give af about rooting for a protagonist who is tacky & desperate enough to harrass his ex ON HER WEDDING DAY about their failed romance from 10 years ago and tries to bag her right after she JUST GOT MARRIED -trying to break up a family that's barely started. Now film opens establishing Strange as a desperate & tacky creep. Lets continue, shall we. 😁

Later in the film, he & America have officially started their multiversial journey in the 838 universe where we get the memory lane scene and his most important memory is his ex giving him a watch. Remember this. I will be coming back to it later.

After Stranges tries to comfort America about losing her mothers, she asks about Christine whom she knows from Defender Strange. Strange asks America if they were together - again, like that should matter to him. Log this away. It will also come back later.

Note this shows also shows his selfishness. Rather than a menory of them having a genuine moment & connection as lovers, his biggest thing is her giving him gifts. As usual, Christine giving & Strange leaching. Anyway, moving on.

After being captured by 838 Mordo, Strange comes face to face with 838 Christine who explains the situation. Having his priorities 100% straight, Strange asks the hard-hitting question -

Got a child in danger you claim to wanna protect & a murderous witch after you. But lets focus on what really matters. Anywho Christine gives her answer, which he again awkwardly does not like.

She makes a point to tell him that she doesn't care to know him & whatever she was to him where he came from is moot.

Again, not being able to let it go, his desperate creep ass asks her why.

I guess not being able to understand why a woman he just met doesn't care about his romantic interest. 838 Christine looks like our Christine. But at the end of the day, she isn't. Keep this in mind as well.

Strange gets taken away for judgement by the Illuminati. In this scene we learn that they executed their Strange after he royally screwed up. Xavier shows Strange exactly what happened. Again rather than focus on anything genuinely important, his only concern is he Christine knows - I guess hoping she didn't under belief that she'd enever work for his killers. No luck for him there. lol

No matter what he learns about his variants & potential wrong-doings he could fall prey to, the only concern he ever finds imporant is Christine - somehow he always loops everything back to her.

Lets skip ahead to meeting Sinister Strange where some of my earlier observations come back around.

He meets this variant who asks him to prove he's the real deal. This is where we hear Donna mentioned for the first time (only having this scene because Benedict insisted & knows how important Donna should be).

Strange is clearly upset thinking & talking about his sister's death & BC kills the performance.

Sadly, this scene gets undercut when the Memory Lane scene depicted his biggest thing as his ex giving him a watch 10 years ago. So I guess his ex giving him a gift & leaving him hurts him more than his little sister dying.

If that is the case, Strange's character has NOT been done any favors. His obsession with his ex overrides family tragedy, I guess. Benedict was right to insist on this scene. Waldron was wrong to make Memory Lane all about Christine. Have a scene of Strange & Donna playing together as children, then hit hard when Strange reveals what happens to her later.

What we got was disjointed asf and removes any sympathy you could have for Strange when the film makes CHRISTINE the only thing that matters to him in life. His most important memory is her - so if he barely gives a damn about his sister compared to his narcissistic desire to reclaim an ex, why should we feel sympathy? I would go further & ask why we should care about Strange at ail? I mean, if his priorities are so fucked up that an old flame dumping him is more traumatic than watching his sister die right in front of him, you have written a character that shouldn't be cared for or sympathized with - rather a character that needs to be put out of his own & everyone else's misery. Lets move on.

Strange talks with Sinister who brings up Christine & her wedding. He went the same route our Strange did, being asked if he was happy & lying about it. Our Strange seems to have the realization he is not on a good path based on the same events that lead Sinsiter to where he is now.

Another early point coming back around. Sinsiter says he used the Darkhold to find a universe where he had Christine.

Our Strange was doing this as well. He wasn't using the Darkhold yet. But anytime he was confronted about other universes, he felt the need to ask if he & Christine were together in them, showing his own fixation with that. Keeping in mind the similar paths our Strange shared with Sinsiter, it is important to note where he obsession was going to go.

Sinister bluntly tells Strange he can use the Darkhold in exchange for Christine.

This reveals Sinsiter has gotten to the point of his obsession that Christine is on the same level as an object to be traded. Again, he wanted her because he wanted her & didn't care what she wanted anymore.

Our Strange had not made it there yet since he refuses on the grounds that Christine would not want that. Our Strange has not gotten to the forceful "take what I want" part of his obssession yet. However, it's safe to say he would have given the similar path he was already on.

It would seem getting dragged into Wanda & America's chase changed the course for him & let him see the shittiness of himself.

Now lets move ahead to our final stretch. Even after seeing a universal pattern & learning how bad things went for Sinister in his obssession, rather than take that lesson in & learn, Strange has to try again to hook up with Christine. We come to the big (in)famous scene.

He wants to take her back to his universe. Worth noting both times Strange gave his crap sob confessions, both Christines look uncomfortable asf.

We got his cringe & unearned confession line.

Also worth noting that after he gives this big theatrical confession, all Christine does is smile & nod awkwardly.

Again, she does not love him. Maybe she loved her Stephen once upon a time. But the man in front of her is not her Stephen. So once again, she's got no reason to love him.

Anyway, we see Strange give a slight eyebrow raise & stand there like an idiot when she doesn't have much to say in response.

Almost reads as "Damn, I just poured my heart out & she still don't want me."

Christine once again, pollitely rejects him. To another point I made earlier. THIS IS A VARIANT! This is not the Christine he shared his history with. She is a different person who shares looks with his Christine. But obssession doesn't care. He's still allowing his fixation & inability to accept loss affect him to the point of trying to hook up with a lookalike if he can - but even the lookalikes don't want him.

Again, this scene makes Strange look pathetic. This was not romantic or sympathetic. It was Simp Pathetic. lol Sorry dad joke.

But closing out the PalmerStrange rant, the relationship subplot depicts Strange as an obsessive stalker. If he didn't destroy the universe first like Supreme & Sinister, then the latter shows how dangerous Strange's limerence was going to get. And Christine has no protection because who's gonna stop Strange when he kidnaps her? The police & Charles can't do anything - and that's only if the latter isn't killed by Strange before he takes Christine.

We have an interview from Walnuts where he says PalmerStrange needed closure & 838 Christine pushes him forward to move on & love again. Link

The problem? Derrickson already did that in his first film 6 years prior. Strange still had feelings for Christine & it's made clear.

The awkward kiss cements that they will not be lovers again but have repaired their friendship and can part ways on a loving note contrary to their bad fight in the beginning.

The ship served the purpose Derrickson wanted which was giving Strange a personal tether in his previous life that he would have to leave behind. This was a mature ending of the relationship where they both accept their different life paths, and Strange doesn't look sprung & obsessive.

Waldron's writing didn't give closure or porgress. He regressed the character to do his own shittier version of the story while gaslighting fans in interviews to believe that it was a needed development rather than crappie retread of an already nicely concluded arc.

Strange is written as someone who's desperate asf.

He can't seem to recognize that obssessive desire is not love and can't stand the fact or fathum the idea that Christine couldn't want him, making their relationship all about what he's feeling when he insists on conversations about their past & grilling her for answers & justifications for why he can't have her.

His feelings here are pretty much the same as Spike's feelings for Buffy in seasons 5 and 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And I hated Spike and his toxic relationship with Buffy. When the real thing didn't want him, he had a sex-bot of her made. Strange is in that same boat when he loses his Christine to another man, and started eyeing up variants. That's sad as hell.

In addition to regressing & character assassiating him in his Christine arc, Walnuts also regressed another arc which was the Ancient One teaching him that everything is not about him - because again, he makes the basis for his entire relationship with Christine about him. He refuses to take no for an answer. People like that can become dangerous.

In BTVS, we saw the worst case scenario of someone who can't let go & take no for an answer. Buffy calls off the abusive relationship with Spike and tries to give him more respect than he deserves in ending it. LIke Strange, he can't take no for an answer and won't respect that she is finished with him. It all comes to a head when Spike finally tries to rape her before realizing why their relationship was problematic and he had some changing to do.

And honestly, with the way Strange is written & what we got from Sinister, the infamous Buffy scene was a real possibility for Christine as well. Again, Sinsister wanted to trade the Darkhold for her, so her consent was evidently not something he was worried about so long as he was satisfied.

On to Clea

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Now we move on to Clea as a love interest. This film created a multitude of problems for that, as well as Walnuts' words in the above-linked interview not matching his half-assed writing.

He talks up Clea as being this great love for Strange and saying he needed closure from Christine before he'd be ready to meet his real love. There are a couple of problems with that statement. First is the aforementioned fact that Strange already got that closure with Derrickson at the end of the first film. Walnuts regressed that development. Next is how he can say that crap with a straight face despite his writing showing the total opposite - which I will get to now.

If Walnuts truly thinks Clea is the love of Strange's life, why the Hell would he write Strange as being obssessed over another woman for 10 years throughout the film, and professing multiversial love to her lookalike just 10 min. before adding Clea in a nameless cameo in mid-credits?

If Walnuts absolutely had to write something relating to PalmerStrange closure, here is a better scenario. Strange congradulates her at her wedding, wishes her happiness, then both acknowlege that they'll always share a bond & cherrish the friendship their lives led them to. Maybe have them share a hug, then let that be it. Short, sweet, and to the point without any inappropriateness & obssessive stalker tendencies on Strange's end.

After that, you bring in Clea for the rest of the film, to go with him & America on their multiversial journey. You don't bring in a variant of his ex that you already knew he didn't need to be with.

Also if one is serious about Clea being a great love to Strange, no writer worth a damn is gonna write him as a obssessive stalker over another woman throughout the film right up until the last 3 min.

"I love you in every universe" is not a line one writes to show that a character is getting over & moving on from someone. That's the line of someone who's still very much trying to get what they want.

In the following scene with Wong, Strange outright admits he is not happy after the film's events. Again, this is NOT writing him as a man who's moved on.

Strange talks to America, goes back to the Sanctum, now all of a sudden he's over Christine, smiling & happy with life?

NO! That's some terrible ass writing - a totally forced & unearned "happy" ending. Strange was unhappy, obssessed, and depressed right up through his scene with Wong. How did we get from that to magical out of nowhere happiness & acceptance? Clearly there was a time jump. But ultimately the film kept him static in his unhappiness & obssession with the "development" into happiness & moving on being off-screen. Lmao

This brings us to the final issues. This film forces PalmerStrange out of nowhere, and makes it into a bigger deal than it ever was in Derrickson's film. They were love interests but not the star-crossed great loves that MoM tried to sell.

We learn from Kevin Feige that he loved the Strange Supreme What If episode, and told Waldron to watch it. In that universe, Strange & Christine were together but tragically ended. And it seems Waldron used that as the basis for the ship in this film rather than what Derrickson already established in the film that this was meant as a sequel to - the version which dealt with our characters, not variants of them with a totally different & unrelated bond.

Gassing PalmerStrange up like he did knowing he wanted to bring in Clea (or so he claims) was terrible. Because now, he put too much emphasis on Strange's feelings for Christine to take Clea seriously. Again, Clea's introduction was very half-assed. She just randomly & namelessly shows up out of nowhere during the credits. That's not the kind of intro a good writer would give a character whom they genuinely believe to be important.

Christine got first billing with Clea tossed as an afterthought.

The MCU will have to work extra hard to sell & sail this ship since they decided to spend the last 3 years shoving Christine down our throats. As it stands with the horrible writing now, Clea looks like Strange's rebound chick since 2 versions of his first choice rejected him, and 2 others he finds out either married someone else or didn't talk to him anymore.

Their future relationship will need MANY defining moments to show she is Strange's great love & not a sex prop he gonna get off on while visualizing Christine. Sadly, the horrific writing gives the impression of the latter.

Christine got "I love you in every universe." It's a beautiful line made cringe by the fact it was wasted on the wrong relationship by a person whose feelings were toxic obssession they mistake for love because they're spoiled & can't take not getting what they want.

So what are they gonna give Clea? Will the next writer even make an effort with the ship & give them anything? Or are we gonna skip the developement & have them just already married in the next film they share? That really fuels the rebound interpretation when we skip from Strange obssessing over Christine for 10 years in "his" sequel to married out of nowhere to a random woman he met in credits of said film.

It would really take a couple of films to give the ship proper devotion & build while moving all the pieces of the bigger story. And I don't think we are gonna get that at this point. Strange probably only has 2 or 3 more film appearances before he gets killed off, including DS3 which is rumored to be a segue into other events, and we saw how much Strange mattered when it comes to transition solo films.

Overall Strange's character in general (not just his love life) needs extreme focus & development. He's been around for almost a decade with little to no development since his first film in 2016. When I look at the character in the comics vs. him in the MCU, it's enough to make me wanna scream at how one-note the latter has made him, and how dirty they have done him. MCU Strange is basically the biggest one-note loser there is. Cumberbatch is the only saving grace for the character atm.

#marvel #dr. strange #stephen strange #doctor strange #mcu multiverse #multiverse of madness #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe #Clea Strange #PalmerStrange #what if...?#christine palmer #DSMOM #doctor stephen strange

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